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Thanks to Yagi, Izuku’s internship is with Sir Nighteye. There’s tension between Sir Nighteye and Yagi, that much Izuku already knows. But during Izuku’s first year— with his head still stuck in a dark depression cloud that has gradually shifted to a gentle mist— something happened to Sir Nighteye that spooked Yagi into reaching out and rekindling their friendship. Or at least that’s what Izuku is able to put together. He wasn’t the most observant that year and now he’s too nervous to pry for more answers.
Regardless, Yagi sends him off to his internship with Sir Nighteye with nothing but well wishes. Inasa and Camie both tell him to text them everything. Well, Camie says everything. Inasa tells him to text, but knowing his puppy-like attitude, he’ll want to know everything as well. Izuku promises that he will, but doubts that he actually will follow through. He’s never been the best texter.
It’s unnerving being back in Musutafu— everything looks the same, feels the same, but the memories of it have soured. It’s his first time being back since he left. And if Izuku is being honest with himself, he never thought he would be back here at all. Sure, he has friends here and everything but so far, they’ve all visited him, an unspoken agreement between them all that Izuku wasn’t going back to Musutafu.
But he’s back now and Izuku takes a deep breath and walks into Sir Nighteye’s building.
The first floor is a lobby, almost nondescript in its plainness. There’s nothing here to indicate that it’s a hero’s headquarters. If Izuku didn’t check (and double and triple check because how awful would it have been if Izuku went someplace else?) the address, he would have thought he walked into the wrong place. This looks more like an office than a hero’s building, but Izuku gathers his courage and walks right up to the secretary, hands over his Shiketsu student ID, and tells her that he’s here for his internship.
“Oh, you’re Midoriya, right?” the woman says. She picks up Izuku’s ID and turns it over in her hands. She doesn’t look much like a secretary with her outfit that looks more like— Wait.
“Are you Bubble Girl?” comes flying out of Izuku’s mouth. Despite it all, he’s still a fanboy, still so eager and excited by everything that has to do with heroism. And the woman in front of him is not a secretary at all. It’s Bubble Girl, one of Sir Nighteye’s only sidekicks. She’s dressed in her hero uniform, which is a bit more fashionable than functional, but still is undeniably a hero’s outfit.
Bubble Girl gleams, her smile taking over her entire blue face. “You know me? Oh my god, this is the first time this has happened.”
“Of course I know you!” Izuku says, mouth going faster than his brain can keep up. He spirals into a talk about her most recent jobs, one of which was a massive drug bust led by Sir Nighteye. Izuku had read everything publicly available about that case, and then got Yagi to get him some information that wasn’t available to the public. It was a difficult case, but beautiful in its execution, and Izuku tells Bubble Girl as much. By the time he’s done with his spiel, he’s panting, chasing for breath. It’s been a while since he let his fanboy self loose.
“Oh,” Bubble Girl says, still smiling, “We’re so going to get along.”
Awata (Because “Bubble Girl is what you call me on patrol. Here, it’s just Awata, okay?”) takes him upstairs. She explains that normally she isn’t the secretary, but that the actual secretary is out with a bad case of the flu and so she, Centipeder, and Sir Nighteye’s other sidekick have been taking turns manning the station. “It’s so much work, oh my god. I can’t wait until she’s back,” Awata finishes, the elevator door opening onto the main floor of the building.
Izuku hasn’t been in many hero buildings, but he’s expecting more than an open concept office with a few cubicles, a kitchenette station, and a lone couch that looks like it has seen better days. There are floor to ceiling windows across two of the walls, though, giving Izuku a great look out onto the skyline. It probably looks beautiful at nighttime with the city lights, but now it’s a dull and hazy brown, the smog obscuring most of the view.
“It’s not the prettiest office out there,” Awata explains, either catching onto Izuku’s underwhelmed mood or anticipating it. “But it’s ours. We do mostly investigative work, so there’s no reason for all the bells and whistles that other heroes have, you know? Come on, let me take you on a little tour. I can show you where you will be staying. The living quarters are on another floor.”
Awata starts to walk, but before she can take more than two steps, someone is in front of Izuku. Someone tall and broad and loud. Izuku’s first instinct is to wilt and make himself as small as possible. But he’s quick to remind himself— weirdly in a voice that sounds too much like Inasa to not be slightly creepy— that this is going to be a good experience. Yagi had told him that he had talked to Sir Nighteye about everything that went on, so at least Sir Nighteye was aware of what baggage he was coming in with. And while Sir Nighteye most likely didn’t broadcast “The New Intern Has Issues”, he probably did at least give the team a subtle heads up. So Izuku straightens himself up and looks right into Togata Mirio’s face.
And of course Izuku knows who he is. Sir Nighteye’s newest sidekick, the new wunderkind breaking into the hero scene as the best graduate UA has seen in ages. He was part of the Big Three of UA, the top of the top of the top. He was an intern with Sir Nighteye and now a sidekick and then in a few years will be a fully fledged hero. He’s the living and breathing definition of making your way up through the ranks. He’s everything that Izuku aspires to be, and more.
“Midoriya, right?” Togata says, beaming. Does everyone in this office have so much positive energy? Izuku was fine with Awata and her smiles, because she was nice and comforting and had a friendly face. But Togata is overwhelming in his approach, even if there is no malicious intention coming off of him. “Oh my god, you’re from Shiketsu, right? I haven’t really met anyone from Shiketsu. Your uniform is so cool.”
“I, uh, yeah. I’m a second year student at Shiketsu,” Izuku says. He half bows. He’s wearing his school uniform, sans hat because it never does actually fit well on top of his hair. His hero uniform is packed neatly into his backpack. “Thank you for having me.”
“Is this your first internship?” Togata asks and Izuku nods. “Oh yeah, Shiketsu does things differently than UA, huh? Cool. Cool. Actually—”
“You can ask him all your questions later, Mirio,” Awata interrupts easily, like she’s used to cutting off Togata’s rambles before they pick up enough steam. “I have to finish the tour and get him his paperwork and ID for the week. And then you can talk as much as you want, okay?”
Togata frowns, but just for a second. He points at Izuku. “Find me after you’re done, okay?”
Izuku freezes and then, not knowing what else to do, nods.
“Great!” And then Togata is bounding away, leaving Awata and Izuku alone again.
“Forgive him,” Awata says. “He’s excited because he finally has an underclassman to take care of. Sir doesn’t take on a lot of interns, you know? The novelty will probably wear off soon. He’s a really nice kid, but he’s a bit intense sometimes. I guess we all are here.” Awata shrugs and then the small tour continues.
The novelty does not wear off. On the second to last day of the week-long internship, Togata is still peppering Izuku with questions about Shiketsu and his life there. They’re topical questions, small talk. What are the teachers like? How many exams do you take a semester? What does the layout of your gym look like?
Izuku was at first wary to respond, wondering if there was a hidden side to his questions, wondering if Togata was looking at the differences in a negative light, as a way to prove that UA was better than the rest. He wondered if Togata actually knew everything, knew about Izuku running away with his tail between his legs, and was trying to pry it out of him, bit by bit. But eventually Izuku realized that Togata was like a small child, curious about how the world beyond him worked. And so Izuku’s answers went from clipped, one-word replies to rambling sentences and long-winded conversions about everything, even the minor differences in the first-aid courses.
“Your hero name is cool,” Togata says as they finish up their patrol route for the day. This is essentially the last day because tomorrow isn’t going to be anything more than a morning debrief and then he’s off. But they aren’t done— not quite— as they ran interference for two different instances today and have to finish the paperwork back at the office. Izuku is glad for all the hands-on learning, but also paperwork. It’s indispensable to the hero system, but it’s the worst part of being a hero. “How did you come up with it?”
Izuku thinks. Togata doesn’t know about the truth of his quirk, even if he’s close to Sir Nighteye and Sir knows it. So he gives the reason that he and Inasa came up with at the end of his first year: “Well my quirk deals with energy, right?” Izuku powers up One For All, his arms laced with green sparks of electricity, just to make his point. “All about different forms of energy manipulation. I can channel it inward, or outward. So Kinetic Energy. Kinetic for short, but I think I like that better.”
Togata nods along, following Izuku’s logic. “That’s such a cool hero name.”
Izuku is about to return the favor, ask exactly how Togata settled on Lemillion when their hero devices— a thin, yet sturdy metal wristband that emits a hologram with all the hero information one could ever need— begin to blare. Both of their holograms pop up, a bright red URGENT REQUEST FOR BACKUP written across it. It gives them coordinates for a location a few blocks over. They could run, but they could also jump.
It’s a move that Izuku is still practicing, but if done right the one jump is the closest that Izuku is going to get to flying. Togata looks at him, eyebrow quirked. Izuku nods and extends out his arm for Togata to take and then with an OFA-powered jump, they’re soaring in the air.
The landing is the hard part, but they both make it without trouble. Izuku ducks and rolls, using his momentum to erupt onto the scene. Togata uses his quirk to sink through the ground and then shoots back up a second later. It’s a robbery that has evolved into a hostage situation. It’s a rush of adrenaline, but since they’re both lower on the ranks, they are only there as backup, to take orders and fulfill them.
An hour later, they’re dismissed as the last hostages are taken away by ambulances. There weren’t any casualties but they were all taken in to be looked at, as is protocol.
“Hungry?” Togata asks, slinging an arm around Izuku’s shoulders. Izuku is still on the shorter side though he goes through so much food in a day that it’s as if he’s going through a growth spurt. The fuel probably goes straight to powering his ever-growing quirk, and then to his height. “There’s a fast food place nearby that’s pretty good. It’s open 24/7 too. I go all the time.”
Izuku hums a noncommittal sound. Food does sound good, but he already has leftovers in the communal fridge that he was planning on eating for dinner. Besides, Izuku can feel his mood start to sour. It happens when there is a lot going on, like being back in a city that he thought he left behind with a demanding (yet very fulfilling) internship and having a longer than usual day of patrol. And on top of that, he hasn’t been sleeping well. He never sleeps well when he isn’t at home. He wants to go back to the office dormitory, shower, and shove his face into a pillow and browse the internet until he passes out.
“What if I pay?” Togata asks, sensing Izuku’s hesitance. “Let me be a good senior to you. Come on.” Togata doesn’t give Izuku time to respond. Instead, he shifts his arm from across Izuku’s shoulders to grab at his upper arm, all but dragging him for a few steps. Izuku gets his bearings quickly, realizes that saying no would be quite rude at this point, and then they’re walking and walking and walking.
People stare at them— Togata has already been making the headlines less than a year after his debut and he’s climbing up the sidekick ranks as well. By the time he’s a fully fledged hero, he’s going to be someone to look out for. Izuku, who frequents hero forums too much, has already seen and read the buzz about him. And they stare at Izuku too because of the proximity.
The eyes rub Izuku’s skin raw. Usually, he’s able to let them slide off of him, but it’s been a long day (a long week) and they were supposed to be done by now. Paperwork and all. And so the eyes, the looks, the presence of the other people are acidic. Izuku’s gotten better at standing tall, but it’s easier when he’s thinking about himself in a hero-sort of way. Because Izuku as a hero, a sidekick, as Kinetic, is brave and daring and smart and capable and Izuku himself is just a boy. A tired, cranky boy.
“And we’re here!” Togata says, stopping in front of a dingy fast food chain that Izuku has never eaten at, but sees everywhere. Growing up, Izuku and his mom didn’t go out for food a lot, and when they did it was usually to the local katsudon place, never a fast food joint. They walk in together and Togata tells Izuku to find a seat. Izuku sits in a booth at the back, because there is no one sitting nearby. No one to stare at them and their hero uniforms. He slides into the seat and then puts his arms on the table and rests his head.
He breathes, his chest tighter than it should be. He really, really, doesn’t want to be here. But Izuku can’t say that. So he rests for a second and lets the breakdown start. He gives himself thirty seconds to feel, to be tired and irritable and annoyed. Togata comes with their food a minute later, a minute in which Izuku has spent putting himself back together. He’s done this a million and half times in his life, fall apart halfway and pick himself up, so that he doesn’t even have to think about it.
“Burger and fries and a shake for me,” Togata says, sitting across from Izuku. The food is on sticky trays, and looks greasy and heavenly at the same time. “And burger and fries and a shake for you too. I got vanilla and chocolate. Which one do you want?”
Izuku says vanilla and Togata pushes the vanilla shake over to him. Izuku usually talks while he eats, waves his hands around while doing so and sometimes gets food all over the place. Inasa has taken to calling the seat next to Izuku the splash zone because of his antics. But now, Izuku is quiet as he eats his food. It’s good, as Togata said it would be. And when he finishes his burger and moves onto the fries, he tells Togata just as much.
“I know right!” Togata says, mouth full so the sounds come out all round. Togata hasn’t been talking either, but it seems that Izuku’s words opened a floodgate for Togata to start and never stop. “I came here all the time when I was an intern. Awata showed me, actually, because it’s pretty close to the agency. And now I am passing the tradition onto you. When you come back next term, we’ll come here together, okay? And when you’re a sidekick too, if I’m still in the area— heck even if I’m not— we’ll come again.”
Izuku chokes on his french fry. He coughs a small piece of it out and it lands in the middle of the linoleum table, a soggy, salty, chewed up mess. He rubs at his mouth with a napkin. “Sorry. Went down the wrong pipe.”
Togata smiles, a 100 watt thing. “No worries. Happens to the best of us. But I’m serious, Izuku— can I call you Izuku? You can call me Mirio.”
If Izuku had food in his mouth, he would choke again. But because his mouth is empty, he ends up gaping. And then quickly realizes he is gaping and shuts his mouth so quickly that he bites his tongue. He winces, but pushes the pain down. “Uh, sure?”
Togata —well, Mirio, but that sounds weird— narrows his eyes and oh god, here it comes. Here he’s going to realize that Izuku really isn’t all that great, that he shouldn’t come back. That Izuku should be much better at controlling his quirk by now, that he should be better at everything, really, and he got a lucky fluke with this internship. And then another voice, softer and weaker than the first one, reminds Izuku to not be so hard on himself, to not jump to conclusions, that he’s thinking this because he’s tired, but it’s so quiet that Izuku can’t hear it through the rush of his blood in his ears.
“Are you okay?” Toga— Mirio, fuck now Izuku can’t even get his name right. Even though he asked to be called Mirio. Izuku can’t even get that one small thing right. He’s here in a city that doesn’t want him, breaking down and getting things wrong because he can’t— can’t—- can’t. “You don’t look okay.”
“I’m fine,” Izuku says, very much not fine. But what is he going to do? Burden Mirio with all of his issues? All of his damn baggage? That’s not fair, especially when they don’t really know each other. When they’re not friends. Mirio is being nice to him because he has to do, because that is what he’s supposed to do to his underclassmen. He doesn’t actually care.
Izuku can’t breathe, but it doesn’t freak him out. If anything, it makes him feel calmer, relieved. He knows these feelings so well that they wrap around him with ease, like a suffocating and painful hug. It consumes him, uses himself as tinder for its burning flame. And then there’s a hand on his back, a big hand that’s rubbing circles in a smooth, consistent motion. And then there’s someone saying his name, but it sounds like Izuku is underwater, the noise muffled and distorted. He’s on fire and underwater, an existing contradiction.
The hands keep moving and the name becomes clearer and clearer until Izuku realizes that Mirio is sitting next to him, rubbing his back and saying his name over and over again. And then the pain in Izuku's chest becomes sharp and he takes in a gulping breath, tears streaming down his face.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Mirio repeats and repeats. The meaning of the words don’t sink into Izuku’s head, but the sound of them is reassuring. Mirio speaks fondly, softly. Izuku knows he should be embarrassed by his breakdown, but he’s too tired for that. Those feelings can wait until he’s slept at least for twelve hours. Eventually, Izuku’s tears stop and his breathing evens out. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Izuku shakes his head and thankfully Mirio doesn’t push it any further. He simply gathers their empty trays, puts them away, and then asks if he is ready to go. Izuku is more than ready, but his body is slow to respond. It takes almost too much effort to stand up, but Izuku pushes through.
They’re close to Sir Nighteye’s building. Mirio did say that the proximity was one of the reasons he frequented that place after all. They scan themselves into the building, go up to the dorms, and Izuku mindlessly goes through his bedtime routine. He showers, brushes his sleep, and is about to crawl into bed when he realizes that Mirio is lingering awkwardly outside of the room, still in his hero uniform and smelling like sweat and grease.
He’s probably here to remind Izuku that he needs to finish the paperwork before he goes to bed. A rock settles into the pit of Izuku’s stomach. He can’t believe he forgot about the paperwork. “I can get to the paperwork now,” Izuku says, his voice gruff and scratchy. “You don’t have to do it with me. I got it. You probably want to go home.”
“What?” Mirio tilts his head, like a big confused dog. “I’m here to ask if you want to talk about what happened?”
“I don’t,” Izuku says immediately, sharp and serrated. Regret floods his system, sour and crippling. He takes a breath. He really, really wants to sleep and forget this even happened. He already knows that Mirio is going to report back to Sir that Izuku isn’t worth the hassle, that they shouldn’t ask for him back. Izuku has taken this golden chance and squandered it and it hurts, the reality of ruining the good things he’s been given. “Sorry, I just want to sleep?”
Mirio nods and takes a step back. “I get it,” he says, voice soft. “But if you want to talk, I’ll be around. I’m probably crashing here tonight too.” He looks at Izuku as if waiting for a reply. When Izuku doesn’t say anything, he just nods and then walks down the hallway. Izuku stalls until Togata has turned a corner before going into his room, climbing into his bed, staring at the ceiling for the entire night, and waiting until unconsciously crashes into him.
Sleep lands right out of his reach.
At an appropriate time in the morning, Izuku rolls himself out of bed. He got, maybe, half an hour of true rest. Tonight, back in the safety of his own room, Izuku is going to sleep an entire day away. Maybe even more. But for now, Izuku packs up all of his things into his backpack and then snags an energy drink from the communal fridge. And then makes himself a cup of coffee when the energy drink isn’t enough to keep his eyelids from falling close.
Mirio is waiting by the kitchenette. He nods when Izuku and him make eye contact, but he blissfully stays quiet. They go through the morning like this, quiet and unsure. It isn’t until Sir Nighteye makes his way into the building at nine sharp that Mirio perks up.
Izuku doesn’t pay attention to what’s happening, he only knows that Sir Nighteye is having him fill out exit paperwork and is saying something about his performance. Izuku doesn’t want to listen because he already knows that Sir doesn’t sugarcoat things. He delivers them exactly as they are. With how he behaved last night, there is no way that the agency is going to want Izuku back. There’s no need for a hero that can’t hold their own weight.
So Izuku is more than surprised when Sir sticks out his hand for a final handshake and tells Izuku that he wants to see him next semester for his internship. “Are you going to shake my hand?” Sir asks a few seconds later, when Izuku still hasn’t moved.
Izuku thrusts his hand out. Sir’s grip is firm while Izuku knows his is limp. But Sir seems satisfied with the handshake, so Izuku tries not to think too much about it.
“Mirio has told me that he wants to escort you to the station,” Sir says. “It’s been a pleasure having you.”
Izuku mutters out a Thanks and then that’s that. His internship is over and for some reason, they actually want him back. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but all Izuku really wants to do now is sleep, not overthink. Mirio takes his backpack for him, which he really doesn’t have to, but he insists on doing. They have to take a bus to get to the train station, and both of them are silent except for a few instances of “We turn here” and “I think the next stop is ours”.
The other shoe drops as they get to the station.
“Izuku,” Mirio says. “Can I talk to you about something?”
“Uh,” Izuku responds. He wants to say No and then grab his bag and get out of here. But instead he goes: “Sure?”
“I just wanted to ask if you were okay,” Mirio says. “And if I could help in any way…? I have this, uh, friend and you remind me a lot of him, actually. He gets stuck in his own head a lot, but he’s gotten a lot better over the years. I’ve known him forever, so I think I know a little of what it’s like.” He grips Izuku’s bag like a lifeline. And Izuku stares. “Or, not. Just wanted to say something since we’ll probably be seeing more of each other in the future.”
There’s… a lot going on here. Too much for Izuku to comprehend right here and now. Izuku settles on: “Thanks.”
Mirio nods, a small smile on his face. “Can we exchange numbers?” Mirio reaches into his pocket to grab his phone. He realizes that he still has Izuku’s bag in his hands and quickly hands it over. They exchange contact info and then Izuku has to leave to make sure he gets on the train. “See ya’,” Mirio says and then there’s an awkward moment (Come on, a voice says in Izuku’s head. This has been awkward the whole time.) where they both stare at each other, waiting for the other to take a step away first. Eventually, Mirio is the one to move. He waves goodbye and then that’s that.
Izuku’s phone buzzes. He hasn’t looked at it much this week, which is bad of him. Izuku is expecting a final goodbye from Mirio. Instead it’s from Camie: hows ur last day mister i never answer my text messages !!!!! still on to hang when u get back ?? ive missed u <3 3333
Izuku lets himself smile. It’s easy, when he’s back in place he never thought he would be, surrounded by all new people and new things, sleep-deprived and anxious, to forget that he has people waiting for him that care about him. That know he’s not going to reply right away to their messages but still text him anyway.
long week, sorry. im exhausted, so idk, Izuku texts back and then the loudspeakers above him announce that he has one minute to get to his train. Izuku runs, and manages to make it just on time. He slides into a window seat.
He looks once more at his phone. Camie has texted him a string of sad faces, but also: totally get it. keep me updated!
And then there’s one more message from Mirio. A simple: Have a safe trip back!
Izuku doesn’t respond to either. He has a lot to think about. But first, he needs to catch up on rest. He leans his head against the side of the train and lets the consistent vibrations lull him to a quick sleep.