Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A Council discussion on possible movement towards a plan regarding instability in Timeline Alpha B-NHA

Date: 7^th-8^th July LST (Living Standard Time), year 249 A.P. (After Pariah)

Recorded by Council Recordkeeper Friar Tech; arbitrated by Council Peacekeeper Renegade Rose

Since the abdication of the throne by the former King, recorded in denizen history books as Nova Statera; the bringer of Balance, the Council of Ancients convenes every year following the holiday truce. Formed by Nova Statera and the strongest of the Ancients, the meetings are meant to discuss a litany of problems that may plagues the Infinite Realms, and possible solutions that can be done to remedy those issues.

The following discussion begins swiftly. Amongst the attending council members are such;.

Clockwork, Ancient of Time and Foresight; Equinox, Ancient of Space and Curiosity. Nocturne, Ancient of Night and Dreams; Pandora, Ancient of Day and Hope; and the three Observant representatives, Mizaru, Kikazaru, Iwazaru. In attendance are Friar Tech, the Council’s recordkeeper, the Ancient of Technology and Knowledge, and Renegade Rose, the Ancient of the Wild and Pestilence, the Council’s peacekeeper.

“I bring to the table a concern regarding the balance of one of the Alpha timelines, Alpha B-HNA.” Clockwork is always terse with their words. It is rare for them to bring up a concern quickly after the beginning of the meeting. The fact that they are starting the meeting, instead of the other Ancients present, is troubling.

The balance one of the Alpha timelines—one of many timelines that are intertwined closely with the Infinite Realms, as compared to the other Omega timelines—is an incredibly dire topic, to be fair. One that they would be acutely familiar with, being the Ancient of Time, and all.  

“Was the small change we offered not enough for stability?” Equinox asks, brows furrowing in confusion. The rings of ectoplasmic stardust and particles that form around his head spin with anxiety as he leans back in his Council seat.

To that, Mizaru, speaks up, her one eye sealed shut. “It was too minor of a change to affect the timeline as a whole. It swayed the destabilization, but only by a few centuries, at most.”

“We introduced the next step of human evolution early in that timeline, I would argue that it wasn’t a minor change.” Equinox replies, crossing his arms. “What has changed since our last meeting that has prevented its improvement?”

“There are many ways that the timeline could have gone right and gone wrong.” Clockwork explains. “Meandering timelines have broken off from the Alpha timeline, and managed to stabilize themselves, for the time being. However, there is a core issue with the main timeline that we have yet to properly address.”

“If it is what I think you’re suggesting—”

“It is the best option, Equinox.” Pandora interrupts. Her golden armor shines bright in the light of the Council’s meeting room. “Without a Champion—”

“Other timelines have existed just fine without a Champion. Why should this one need one as well?”

“I hesitate to agree with Equinox, but he does have a point.” Nocturne speaks up. Usually, they are rather quiet, only adding their own opinion when they deem necessary. Even if when they deem necessary is when it is least appreciated. “Other Alpha timelines have persisted and kept their stability.”

“The issue comes down to the nature of this Alpha timeline.” Clockwork says. They unconsciously shift in appearance from their adult form to their elder form. “Other Alpha timelines have no need for a Champion because they have not crossed the threshold into the Infinite Realms in such a dramatic way. While this timeline’s history and connection to ours faded centuries ago, there is still leftover energy in their realm that is impacting them. We had voted to interfere last human year to speed up the process of our energy affecting the humans that still reside in it, thinking that speeding up the evolution of the human race in that realm would help to stabilize it completely. But the connection still exists, and where a connection exists, a Champion must be chosen.”

“Do we have any say in who that Champion may be, or will the Realms decide herself?” Equinox asks, his tone turning dark. The stars that make up the fabric of his cape flicker out, one by one.

The Council is silent. The question was rhetorical, anyway; Equinox knows that they have no choice. They all know who the chosen Champion will become. They cannot put a name or a face to it, but they know, deep down in their cores, that the Realms longs for another champion, just like she had many centuries ago.

“I’m sorry, but I have to refuse the notion.” Equinox breaks the silence, which explodes into an uproar.

“What do you mean, refuse—”

“Just because you were once the King, Equinox—”

“The collapse of an Alpha timeline could jeopardize the existence of the Realms!”

From atop her bench above the Council, the Arbiter Renegade Rose slams her gavel down loudly, three times, ushering in order. She doesn’t even need to use any of her words, though her words were like venom when she spoke. Thorns began to climb around her bench, threatening to blossom into bright violet roses.

All the Ancients slowly quiet down.

Mizaru clears her throat. “It is a necessary action we may have to do, Equinox, for the better of the Realms.”

“I have pledged myself to the Realms since the day I took the throne those centuries ago. I created this council to leave the control of the Realms in the hands of more than one capable ancient, so decisions could be agreed upon unanimously and equally, instead of by a single higher figure.” Equinox says, standing up as he does. His voice cracks as he continues, “I have given my life and my afterlife to her, and it has caused me much so pain. As much as I love her, I cannot on good conscience allow her to do to another child what she has done to me.”

The silence is nearly deafening, as the Ancients all watch as Equinox wipes away at the tears that are slowly spilling down his face. Most of the Ancients do not remember their Deaths, but since Equinox is the youngest among him, the wounds are still, ironically, fresh, despite centuries of time.

Equinox turns to Clockwork. “Is this the only way?”

“Time does not deal in absolutes.” Clockwork responds as they shift from their elder form to their child form. “There may be other ways to stabilize the Alpha timeline that do not involve allowing a new Champion to be chosen. But this… It may be the best solution to lead to the safest stability.”

A beat of silence. From the corner of the council room, recordkeeper Friar Tech glances up from his seat, and he meets the glance of Renegade Rose. They both had known Equinox in life, death, and afterlife; they had both been alive at the time most of what he experienced occurred. But neither of them knew it as intimately as Equinox had.

Being chosen as a Champion for the Infinite Realms is not an easy feat. It involves a lot of pain and suffering, to become an impossibility.

Equinox sighs, falling back to his seat. “I still cannot condone the action, but I am aware that I will be outvoted by the Council. If we must go through with this, may I make a suggestion?”

“What shall it be, young Ancient?” Pandora asks, seated to his right. She leans in close, resting one of her four hands on his shoulder. Condolences? Pity? Her expression is unreadable.

“When they are chosen, I would like to speak to them. I would prefer to do it in just one dream, if you would allow me, Nocturne.”

“And whatever would you say to them?” Kikazaru, the prickliest of the Observant representatives, asks, eye narrowing.

“Nothing that could jeopardize the timeline any further. I believe we all learned the consequences of that a long time ago.” At that, Equinox nervously glances to his left, where Clockwork smirks and shifts from their child form to their adult form, and shudders. “I just… I want to apologize to them, when the time comes.”

Nocturne, the Ancient of Dreams, hums on that, for a moment. “Equinox, you are the Ancient I like the least.”

“I am keenly aware of that.”

“But, if this will allow us to stabilize the Alpha timeline, I suppose I shall allow it… with my supervision, of course.”

“Nocturne—” Kikazaru scoffs.

Pandora interrupts. “All in favor of allowing the Realms to choose the new Champion of Balance, say aye.”

“Aye.”

“Aye for the three of us.”

“Aye.”

“Aye. All opposing?”

Equinox is the only one to speak. “Nay.”

“Then it is settled. We shall allow the Realms to choose her new Champion and allow Equinox one visit to their dreams shortly thereafter.” Pandora says. “Discussion settled. Are there any other pending issues we ought to attend to?”

“Well.” The quietest of the Observants, Iwazaru, says. “Um. There is the one issue of that sorcerer’s compounding paperwork in Timeline Beta D-C?”

All of the Ancients glance at Iwazaru, who shrinks down a bit in their seat. They nervously laugh.

“Or, we could, um. Just… wait on that a little bit longer. I am sure it can settle itself out on its own, eventually…?”

Chapter Text

Midoriya Izuku isn’t a stranger to weird dreams, but his newest one leaves him waking up oddly confused.

Most of his dreams are quite simple. Or the ones he remembers, anyway—those are the only ones worth thinking about. He wakes up one day, with a quirk. Or maybe he was born with a quirk in the first place. The circumstances of how he gets a quirk are always different, varied from dream to dream. but no matter what, he has a quirk. And he isn’t useless anymore!

No, he can save people. He can help people. He can be the hero he’s always wanted to be! And his classmates don’t hate him anymore, and he doesn’t get left out of anything anymore, and he’s not told to kill himself over and over again by his classmates like his nightmares.

The quirks he dreams up for himself are always varied. Sometimes they are realistic—he has a fraction of his mother’s power, Attraction of Small Objects, that he takes time to strengthen into a strong telekinetic quirk. He’s never dreamed about receiving his father’s Fire-Breath quirk, but he does dream of flames being able to reach out to him and dance upon his fingertips without getting hurt, a mixture of his parents’ quirks.

Sometimes they’re strange and unusual. One day he wakes up, part-elephant. Another day he’s born with lobster claws for hands. Sometimes the quirks are based on other heroes. He can manipulate his voice and copy sounds, like Present Mic’s sound-based quirk. He’s super strong, like All Might. He can jump as high as Mirko or fly in the air with Hawks.

But in the end, they’re all just that—dreams. Dreams of lives Izuku wishes he even had a chance of. The dreams are better realities that he would like to escape to, forever, but unfortunately, life isn’t that nice to him.

He always wakes up, always Quirkless, always useless.

But that one morning, a day he will always remember, Izuku wakes up after what he’s going to assume is the strangest, fever-induced dream ever.

There was someone else in his dream. A tall, elegant man—or maybe some sort of higher being? Perhaps a fae of some sort, his ears were quite pointed and long, but Izuku had never read about a fae having blue skin before. Planets and constellations danced around him like magic, stars sparking across his face and in his eyes. He looked like a prince, or maybe a king, with a crown made of the same rings that Saturn had.

And the person-deity-fae-thing said something… Even stranger to him.

“I am sorry for what you are about to go through. But you will not have to go through it alone, I promise.”

It wasn’t the effect of a quirk—or at least, Izuku doesn’t think it was. Nothing shows up on the news if his neighborhood of Musutafu was attacked by a villain with a weird dream quirk, and the only classmates that ever got too close to Izuku at school were Kacchan and his friends. Most of the time their encounters ended violently, with either Izuku’s belongings or his skin charred by Kacchan’s explosions, but none of Kacchan’s friends have any sort of dream-related quirk.

Nobody Izuku knows has a dream-related quirk. And Izuku knows the quirks of most of the people around him. So that wasn’t a possibility.

Was it just a weird dream, then? He felt like he was floating in the void, cold and dark, but also—oddly comforting. The smell of ozone still lingered in his mind that morning as he rolled out of bed, kicking his All Might bedsheets off, and—

Oh. All Might.

… Right.

“You can’t be a hero without a quirk.”

Hm. He hadn’t even thought about taking down all of his All Might memorabilia last night. He’d gotten home, showered and gotten all the sludge villain gunk off of him, and called it a night. Luckily, it was the end of their school week, so he could get away with sleeping in as long as he wants to.

His mom wasn’t home. Midoriya Inko was a busy woman, providing for them both. She was a nurse at the Musutafu General Hospital, and while it didn’t have the best hours, she still made enough money to keep them afloat. And made enough money to keep purchasing new gakuran for Izuku when his old ones get too blown up by Kacchan.

Izuku didn’t think she knew about the way Kacchan—that is to say, Bakugou Katsuki—had been treating him since his diagnosis as Quirkless, but she never said anything. She helped teach him how to patch up the holes when they wore down, bought him new supplies when they’d been ruined by bullies, and stayed by his side when he needed a moment.

“I’m so sorry, Izuku…”

She wasn’t that good with words. Izuku remembered, painfully, how she had reacted to his own reaction to his diagnosis.

The apartment was quiet, as normal. Rain plastered his windows, but a quick check at the weather app showed it would clear up in the next hour. Spring was beginning to pick up speed, if the cherry blossoms that lined their streets in Musutafu had anything to say about that.

Izuku goes through his usual motions for the morning. He’ll take a quick shower, get dressed—he avoids any of his All Might merchandise, opting for a plain gray hoodie and jeans for the day—and make breakfast. They were running low on some groceries, so he made himself a bowl of fruit. Some of it was starting to get too soft, and he threw out the pieces that had started growing mold.  

His phone pings loudly as he eats breakfast. He’s a part of many different JANGL servers; most of them are focused on hero discussions, one or two about different popular hero games. He’d withdrawn from the All Might server the night before. 

Being in a server dedicated to the number one pro hero so shortly after having his dreams crushed by the very same hero was too much. He’d miss the discussion, but honestly, it’d been getting a little stale in the chat anyway due to All Might’s infrequent appearances. 

Most of it was a tiring debate on whether or not he was retiring. Which, honestly, maybe he should— the man’s been in the hero industry for so long, where’s the new faces?

Izuku checks his phone; it’s from one of the smaller servers he was on. Not entirely focused on hero discussion, but there were plenty of chat rooms in it for that. 

ENDEAVORFANNO1: anyone see endeavor take down that villain last night???? he is so cool!!!

He rolls his eyes, closing out the app. 

Izuku knows that there is homework he should do. His teachers at school, especially Okoru-sensei, his homeroom and history teacher, tended to pile up homework without much concern for the other classes. He felt like, somehow, Izuku got handed twice as much as his peers. He probably did, knowing how his teachers didn’t like him all that much because he’s Quirkless.

“Just not realistic…” 

No. Izuku shakes his head as if it would magically will the thoughts away. He wants to be a hero, he’s gonna be a hero, he has to be a hero. Even though everyone keeps telling him no, everyone keeps crushing his dreams (intentionally or unintentionally), he wants to help people.

He has to.

Izuku glances back at the fridge as he rinses off his plate and leaves it to try. Sending a quick text to his mom, he grabs his wallet, and the apartment keys, slips on his outdoor shoes, and walks out the door.

ME: I’m going to go out on a walk, I’ll be back in a bit!

MOM: Okay, be safe, sweetie!

The rain had subsided a bit by then. The clouds are still gray, and the air is still humid, but a small bit of blue sky is trying to break through. It might not be enough, but Izuku needs to just get out of the apartment for a bit. Out of the apartment and far away from his All Might collection.

That collection cost quite a lot of money, money which Izuku knew his mom picked up extra shifts to cover because it was something that he cared so deeply about. And now what? He couldn’t just throw it away without his mom knowing something was wrong, right? He could just pack it all up and hide it under his bed and in his closet, but then he’d have to get new sheets and pillowcases for his bed. 

Why’d All Might have to turn out to be a Quirkist asshole?

Izuku pauses at the thought. He sighs. He doesn’t know what he should have expected, from the number one hero. The same hero who didn’t call for any medical assistance after freeing Izuku from the sludge villain, who didn’t hesitate to make sure that Izuku could get down from the rooftop where he left him, standing. The same hero who probably had a quirk like his handed to him on a golden platter.

Izuku loves heroes, still. His phone buzzes with a notification of a fight occurring on the other side of Musutafu, between an unnamed villain and Kamui Woods. 

If he sprinted across town, he could still catch it— no, wait, damn it, he left his notebook at home. He could record the fight on his phone, and play it back later? But he’s running out of storage space from all the other hero fights he’s recorded—

“Hey! Watch it, kid!” A woman pushes by him roughly, nearly knocking him off balance. 

Oh, yeah, he’s in the middle of the sidewalk. He should probably keep moving.

✨👻✨

Izuku isn’t quite sure where he’s ended up. He took a turn into the more desolate parts of Musutafu, mostly to avoid a few of Kacchan’s friends he’d seen wandering the streets. He didn’t see Kacchan, but Izuku couldn’t trust his own eyes to not know if he was there or not. His ‘friend’, if one could even call him that, could have just fallen behind the friend group. 

Izuku knew what happened last time they’d encountered each other in public like that, and he could still hear the pop-pop-pop of Kacchan’s explosions from behind.

But he’d taken one turn too many, and now… he doesn’t know where he os. Of course, his phone is charged, and he could easily route himself back to his house, and he would soon, but this neighborhood in Musutafu was peaceful.

Abandoned, of course, and some of the buildings were covered in graffiti, but it’s quiet. He can hear the ocean in the distance, so he figures he isn;t too far from any main roads, maybe even near that old beach full of trash. It’d almost be a perfect place to just sit for a moment, to get away from the crowds and bustling city streets.

Aside from the rumbling of thunder overhead. Oh, great. Is today just Make Everything Bad For Izuku Day?

Izuku didn’t even open his mouth, but the gods above curse him more, anyway. He ducks into the doorway of one of the abandoned buildings seconds before it starts to pour down. “Great. Can this day get any worse?”

A flash of lightning above him answers that question. Screw you, Midoriya Izuku, the weather seemingly says. 

He groans, pulling his phone back out. There’s some new notifications on it from the different servers he was on, and a private message from one of his server friends.

CATNYAP, or just Cat, as he introduced himself, was one of the few people Izuku had met online and felt a kinship with. He doesn’t know Izuku is Quirkless, and Izuku didn’t know his quirk. As much as he wanted to, it was a sore subject for Cat, so he left it alone, just as Cat did his. They were both around the same age and lived closer than they had expected. Cat is only in the next city over, and they could meet up in real life if they wanted to, but…

Cat is one of Izuku’s only friends. If he finds out, when they met up, that Izuku was Quirkless, and hates him for it…No, Izuku can’t stand the thought.

CATNYAP: hey mini, you good?

ME: Yeah, I am. Why?

CATNYAP: you changed your pic from all might to just a picture of some flowers. ive never seen you without an all might pic. 

ME: I just wanted a change!!! That’s all, nothing suspicious!!!

CATNYAP: u said it, not me

CATNYAP: everything ok tho? it’s not k again, is it?

ME: K had nothing to do with the change!

ME: But, um.

Izuku sighs.

Cat is a lot smarter than he let on. He knows a lot about underground heroes, which is how he and Izuku started to bond two years ago.

Specifically talking about underground heroes. Cat had been able to spot one of their favorite ones, Eraserhead, on a patrol once, and when he shared that story in a mutual server, Izuku was the only one who had believed him. They started privately messaging each other about underground heroes, and whatever information they could dig up, but they also started to talk about their personal lives, too.

Cat is living with just his dad, and they don't really get along. He's also bullied, just like Izuku is. They don’t go into the reasons why the people around them were cruel, but it’s nice to find solace with someone online going through a similar struggle, even if neither of them had all the details.

ME: Some stuff happened yesterday. I guess you shouldn’t meet your heroes.

ME: I got caught out in some rain, I’ll explain when I get home!

Another roar of thunder takes Izuku off guard, and he jumps, banging his back into the door of the building. Whatever it had been made with, it wasn’t that sturdy, or maybe the wood had begun to rot. Either way, the door slams open with a loud thud the moment Izuku hit it, and he stumbles backwards into the dark of the building.

…well, it is better shelter than just hiding in the doorway, at least. A quick glance at his phones’ weather app tells him that the rain  should be passing in about ten minutes, so there’s nothing wrong with taking shelter in a creepy, decrepit, old, abandoned building, right?

The main room is dark and empty.

He turns his phone flashlight on.

There aren’t many things in the main room, but what did exist, were covered in old, rotting tarps. A table with a missing leg sat collapsed in the center of the room. No pictures, or any decorations, are up on the walls, but there was something about the way things had been abandoned that were alarming to Izuku. Things had been abandoned in hast. But… Why?

He takes another step into the building. Of course, he knows that this is eerily similar to one horror movie he’d watched the other week, but there’s no way this building is haunted by the ghost of a scorned Quirkless girl who wanted revenge on the adults in her life that wronged her.

… right?

Well, Izuku doesn’t fully believe in ghosts, but maybe there is more out there than the human mind can comprehend.

They can’t even understand the origin of quirks, after all! Many theories exist as to why humans reached their next stage of evolution as such, from mice carrying disease like the pre-quirk era pandemics or solar flare nonsense affecting people’s DNA. The religious believe that they were blessings or curses from the gods they worship. 

Maybe Quirks came from ghosts—now, that’s a crack theory, he thinks to himself, with a scoff.

Of course, some heroes took on ghost-like themes for their gimmicks. The hero Ectoplasm, while not being made of what ghosts are theorized to be made of, did pick his name and look from somewhere.

In the old tales of old pre-quirk heroes, many different ones could see ghosts, interact with the supernatural, or somehow hunt them. Ghost hunting shows are all scams, anyway, but they were fun to watch in Izuku’s downtime. Watching grown adults get scared at their own shadows is funny to Izuku, for some reason. 

But there hasn’t been any actual case of someone claiming to have a Quirk that allows them to see ghosts being the truth. Most of them are charlatans in the end.

Curiously, Izuku takes another few steps into the building. A flash of lightning outside illuminates the room more. To his left, there’s a decaying staircase going up to what he imagines is a second floor, and to his right, the remains of a kitchen. There aren’t any appliances, looking like they’d been taken long ago, but their outlines had been imprinted on the walls.

Psst!

In the corner of his eye, Izuku catches a strange flicker of something. A bug, or dust? Whatever it is, it disappears before he can focus too much on it.

No, silly. Over here!

It isn’t exactly a voice that Izuku is hearing. It feels like something else—something strange. It vibrates in his chest and the understanding is there. Another flash of light catches his attention in the corner of his eye, and he turns again, the other way. Nothing’s there.

Probably just a cruel prank, he thinks. Or maybe it’s a villain? A villain, luring him into an abandoned building to, what, kill him? Steal his organs? Hold him for ransom?

Not that they’d get enough money for him, anyway. Even if it weren’t for the fact that they’re not the most well-off folk in Musutafu, he’s Quirkless, and something tells him that his organs wouldn’t sell all that well on the black market.

And then, a third time—

Follow me! Follow me!

The light materializes right in front of Izuku, sending a chill down his spine. It looks like a small blue flame, and it flies around him like a curious bug or moth, spinning around him, before disappearing into the darkness of the house.

What the hell?

Izuku knows better than to follow something like that into the darkness. It’s suspicious. A Quirk at work? Trying to make him look stupid? Trying to hurt him? He can’t just trust a random light that appears in front of him.

After a few seconds of waiting for it to come back, he sighs. It’s probably his imagination—he knows it’s a bit overactive at the worst times, which might be why he’s so obsessed with trying to be a hero, imagining a better world not just for Quirkless people like him, but everyone, everywhere.

He shines his flashlight towards the direction the blue light disappears to, and it leads to a strange tarp, draped across the back wall of the building. A clap of thunder shakes the building, and a gust of wind shoots into the building from the still-open door, and there’s definitely a hole behind the tarp.

Izuku checks his weather app; it says the storm should only be about another ten minutes, before letting up for enough time for him to get home. He doesn’t want to wander back out onto the streets now, he’s already chilled from the sudden rain pouring on him with no notice, but he doesn’t want to stay sheltered in the abandoned building anymore.

He glances to the open, and then, back to the tarp. What’s behind it, though?

You know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat.

He takes a few careful steps forward to avoid the broken glass on the ground, before reaching out to the tarp and pulling it back. He was expecting a stairway, or a hole in the wall that needed patching up that was never properly fixed, but he doesn’t find either of those. It’s a metal stairwell, descending into the darkness. A faint glow reflects from the bottom of the stairs from his phone’s flashlight.

“Um… hello?” His voice echoes and bounces off the walls of the large, open room. Then it’s quiet. No response to his question, or greeting. It doesn’t look like anything is at the bottom of the stairs. Maybe this building is actually abandoned, and his paranoid, overactive imagination is filling up with the worst-case scenarios?

And then, it happens again. The small blue light materializes at the bottom of the stairs, before fading slowly into the darkness, as if it were a campfire slowly dying.

He takes a hesitant step on the stairs, testing his weight. It doesn’t buckle under him or break, so he takes another step, reaching for the metal railing to his side. Hugging the railing, he angles his phone down so he doesn’t miss any steps before he hits the bottom of the stairs. A light switch is on the wall to his left, and he flips it, not expecting the lights to turn on.

But they do.

The lights illuminate the room to life around him. It looks like some sort of… laboratory. But in the most cartoonish way possible. Izuku imagines what this could have looked like in its prime, clean and pristine tile floors, metal walls, the instruments and equipment neatly and readily stored on the shelves.

But what it is now is a bit of a disappointment. Strange items are scattered on the tables and floors, half-broken or decayed from age. Some of them are odd to find in a lab. Izuku spots a butterfly net and a thermos among a pile of what look like guns, but they’re large, silver weapons with barrels too large to fit an average bullet. They look more like laser guns from a budget science fiction movie.

Maybe this is a film set? Oh, no, am I stumbling into a film set, about to ruin everything? The thought is pushed aside as he notices the dust floating in the air around him, and coating everything else in the room. Unless someone on a film set had a Quirk that would allow them to control dust—a cool thought, what would the limits be on that?—he doubts he’s stumbled onto a film set like this.

But what else could it be? If heroes had raided this building would definitely reach the news. Izuku’s lived in Musutafu his whole life, and he’s been a hero nerd since birth, but no case comes to mind that would match what he’s stumbled into.

I should leave, Izuku thinks, as he hears the thunder clap above him again, though more distant and muffled than before. Surely now, there’d be no threat.

Yet, he finds himself carefully walking through the ruins of the lab, looking at everything that had been abandoned. Blueprints of some of the machines are strewn about are, interestingly, written in English. He can read a few of the English words, but most of it is lost on him.

Thermos… Catcher… Net?.. Fen- ton. Fenton?

What catches his eye is the back wall again. Unlike the tarp, this hole in this wall is clearly visible, and somehow, even more confusing. He couldn’t think of any sort of science that would require the researchers to build a large, hexagonal-shaped hole into the back wall.

Loose cords catch his ankle as he steps forward, and he kicks them aside. That’s a bit of a tripping hazard for him, but he’s too focused on the hexagonal hole.

“What is this thing?” He wonders aloud. The hexagonal hole is smooth on the inside, with a few larger screws sticking out on one side. Papers strewn about don’t help him in identifying it past a pad of decaying papers left on the nearest table.

Activation instructions…? Instructions! For the Fen-ton—Fenton, must be their name, or organization—Ghost… Portal?

Most of the instructions in the packet have been worn off with age, but the last words make Izuku pause. Ghost Portal?

To, what, ghosts?

Izuku holds back a laugh, leaning over the table to leaf through the papers. Most of it is English, and he can’t understand it all, but the idea is too absurd to not look into. A ghost portal? How could one even build a portal to “ghosts”? Or maybe it was a portal to the afterlife? Or something had been mistranslated, or Ghost means something different here.

Or maybe it’s a cult.

That’s a definite possibility. Izuku needs to brush up on his early Quirk-Era history a bit more, but many cults popped up during the early days that claimed certain deities were responsible for Quirks; whether as blessings or curses.

He puts the papers back on the table.

“I should probably get some photos in here, and tell a hero about this place.” Izuku mumbles to himself, glancing around the lab again. He’ll probably get told off—again—by whatever hero he brings this to, but a building like this, with these strange weapons in it, wasn’t safe. Especially if it’s open enough for a junior high student like Izuku to stumble into it and poke around.

Izuku turns back, again, to face the ghost portal, glancing inside it.

It’s a stupid move to take a step into it, but Izuku’s curious. He kicks aside another loose cord, feeling along the cold, smooth metal of the wall of the hexagonal hole. Despite its age, there were no signs of rust or decay, almost like it had been built yesterday. Aside from the cords threatening to ensnare his feet and knock him down, of course.

Well, that’s enough adventure for today. The storm had surely passed by then, and he should be heading home. He’ll bring the photos to the police tomorrow, or something, and hopefully they’ll believe him, and not think he’s trying to prank the local, overworked, under-funded police department.

Just as he turns, the cords Izuku kicked aside before catch his foot. “Oh, c’mon—” Izuku mumbles, and sets his right hand on the wall to help him balance as he untangles the cord.

Click.

A click?

Izuku moves his hand away from the wall, and in the faint light of the lab spilling in, it isn’t a loose screw he had seen before. It was a much larger button, bright green, with the word “ON” scribbled in white chalk over it.

The next thing Izuku remembers was the ghost portal humming to life, and pain.

✨👻✨

Aizawa Shouta isn’t technically on a patrol. It’s mid-afternoon, right after a storm had cleared through Musutafu, and he was taking a short-cut to Dagobah Beach through

Dagobah Beach, where he had agreed to meet Shinsou Hitoshi for training the next day. The boy had caught his eye on patrol a few nights ago. It was reckless to be a child and to walk around at night by oneself, but he did so, anyway. The quirk usage was something else, though. While he’d caught him in an act of illegal quirk usage, Shouta was impressed by the boy’s control of the quirk.

Brainwashing.

He’d understood the boy’s plight, being looked down upon for having a scary quirk. His was Erasure, after all, an ability that stopped others quirks from working, even occasionally, working on mutant-types. Of course, everybody had been afraid of Shouta in school, and he continuously had to fight back against the stereotypes and boxes other people had tried to put him in.

His crawl from junior high to U.A.’s General Education to finally, the Heroics Department, was a painful, grueling process. One that made him who he was today, but one that was unnecessarily cruel to him. He’d vowed to himself, the day when he stood on that stage for graduation in his class of a bunch of heroes who later went on to become great on their own, if he had a chance to he would try to make things better for people with quirks like him.

It was only logical, of course. There was an emotional, biased drive to it, sure, but the world he was in was a world focused on the flashiest, strongest quirks. As each generation began to get stronger than their predecessors, those with the weaker quirks, the scarier quirks, would get thrown aside, even when the potential to do great things with them was stronger than the next idiot who walked into U.A.’s hallways with a quirk that made them super strong or super fast.

He wanted to get to Dagobah Beach the day before, to make sure that there would be no prying eyes during their training. The beach was a trash pit, of course. Many things had been dumped there over the years or had drifted ashore from the sea. Not many people went to Dagobah Beach unless it was to mourn the loss of what he had heard was, in all cases, a decent beach.

He wouldn’t be training Shinsou at that beach. It was probably full of risks, from falling refrigerators to rusty microwaves, and he wasn’t sure how far Shinsou was on his vaccinations. Though, it was an iconic meeting place that he’d hoped the teen would remember, one where people wouldn’t notice anything strange or unusual, and a spot right in the middle between his Musutafu apartment complex, Shinsou’s foster home, and the buildings where he’d planned to take Shinsou to train.

The sudden storm had stopped him in his path, though he didn’t mind having to spend an extra thirty minutes at the cat café he had sheltered himself in (totally not planned on his route, it just so happened to be there, whatsoever). Once it had cleared up, he starts his walk again, cutting through a small street of abandoned buildings, when something catches his eye.

A person’s collapsed on the sidewalk, not moving.

Musutafu isn't the nicest neighborhood in their area of Japan. It’s the sort of neighborhood that heroes kept safe during the day, but abandoned at night, which is where the crime mainly happened. A few vigilantes and two underground heroes kept the city safe, occasionally Shouta if he’s in the area, but those numbers had dwindled in the last few years. The more abandoned parts of the city brought less of that safety, day or night, though the street Shouta has decided to cut through was most definitely one of the streets that was straight-up abandoned by both the good guys and the bad guys.

The street is too short and small to carry out any major operations on either side. There were other better, more logical locations to do business.

The person laying on the sidewalk does set off an alarm in his mind, and Shouta steps closer. He feels something inside him freeze. They’re not just a short person, they’re a child. Once he realizes this—a few seconds after initially noticing them, and he curses at himself for not realizing the moment he saw them—he runs over to their side, and drops down.

Pulse? It takes a moment to find, but it’s there. Faint and slow. There’s a faint scent of electricity and ozone in the air and burned skin. Their clothes were singed by something—electricity, Shouta figures, but how could they be hit with electricity in the middle of the city—

The storm. Had the child—a boy, by the look of his messy curly hair, face with still too much baby fat on it, dusted with freckles—been stuck out in the storm, and struck by lightning? How long had he been here? Did his family even know?

Focus, Shouta. Trying to focus on the details was a distraction from the current reality. He pulls out his phone and immediately dials for help.

“I need an ambulance right away. There’s an injured minor, showing no signs of consciousness, at the end of Jaku Street, right before Dagobah Beach. There is a faint pulse, and signs that they might have been struck by lightning…”

Chapter Text

Occasionally, as humans can become ecto-contaminated, or Liminal, due to overexposure to ectoplasmic energy, so can non-sentient buildings.

This is the case for the larger phenomena known as “liminal spaces”. These spaces tend to reject any material logic for any person who unwillingly falls into them, and they vary depending on exposure and location. Though individual morality is irrelevant, these liminal spaces develop something similar to consciousness or sentience over time.

They can offer various experiences to humans who unknowingly stumble into them. They can be benevolent spaces, and offer those struggling an escape or a shortcut to safety, and prevent any harm or abusers who may be attempting to follow. They can also be malevolent spaces, and seek to trap humans to consume on their energy, either releasing them when no longer necessary or until they fully consume the human both mentally and physically.

Due to their various natures, it’s hard to properly research these locations. Which is why if one ever finds themselves in a liminal space, they must pray it will be kind to them…

--Excerpt from “A preliminary study into the phenomena of ectoplasmically contaminated liminal spaces”, By Dr. Danica Nightingale, PhD.

✨👻✨

The doctors at Musutafu General Hospital treated him as some sort of medical marvel, a walking miracle. He had to have survived thousands of volts of electricity from the lightning strike that hit him in the center of his palm, but he was healing at such an astonishing rate, they didn’t see a need to prescribe him any pain medication unless he asked for it.

But they also didn’t treat him… well, outside of it. Well, we don’t know exactly why your heart-rate is so slow, and why your body temperature has dipped, but you seem to be fine. You’re alive, still. We don’t know enough about Quirkless people to know if this is the norm, but it probably is?

How could they not know enough about Quirkless bodies? Were 10,000-odd years of prior medical knowledge completely erased from the knowledge of every research database, public or private, after the dawn of quirks? A Quirkless human is the same as a human pre-Quirk era. Why would they not know otherwise?

Give-or-take a few years of evolution, of course, his biology is mostly the same. He knows his green hair is a strange genetic mutation passed down from his great-great-grandmother, but other than that, his biology should be roughly the same.

His mom isn’t happy, either, with how the doctors were treating him—either espousing him as a medical miracle or not knowing how to treat him—but it isn’t worth trying to fight a battle they know she won’t win. Such is the way of Izuku’s existence.  

Three days post-Accident, Izuku is released from the hospital to bed rest at home for a few days, with phone numbers to call for physical therapy, and a prescription of weaker pain medication, if he needs it.

The pain isn’t that bad, luckily. His right arm is a little numb and sore, and the nerves in his fingers go from feeling dead to feeling everything all at once, but other than that, Izuku’s just tired from everything.

But once Izuku’s by himself, he starts noticing weird things.

Firstly, his dreams are more haunting than before. The strange deity that appeared to him in his one dream—whatever that was, Izuku still doesn’t know—hasn’t appeared since, but he’s having dreams of the Accident again, and stumbling out of the building, crawling up the metal stairs, and seeing his reflection in the windows. It’s warped to a nightmarish degree.

White floating hair. Toxic, vibrant, neon cyan irises. Sickly pale, corpse-like skin.

But they’re just dreams. They’re just dreams. That’s it, right?

Then he wakes up in the middle of the night and finds himself floating a foot above his bed. He’d write that off as another dream, if the sudden jolt of gravity grabbing him again and the way his head hit the mattress at an awkward angle didn’t hurt so badly.

And then he starts noticing that he hasn’t become clumsier as a result of nerve damage in his hand, the items he keeps dropping are passing through them. His feet go intangible, fall through the floor, and trip him up. His limbs will even occasionally go invisible.

He can’t write this off as dreams, because his mom notices him getting clumsier, but somehow, doesn’t notice any of his limbs starting to go invisible.

At first, he’s ecstatic. Had his dreams of having a Quirk finally come true? Maybe he was an exception to his Quirkless diagnosis. Maybe he had a strange, random, genetic mutation where his toes would show up like a Quirkless person’s, and he just needed to, what—get struck with hundreds of volts of electricity to finally activate his quirk. Kill himself for his own Quirk?

No.

That can’t be right.

The blood tests came back at the hospital reading as Quirkless. If they hadn’t, the doctors would have treated him nicer; and they even pointed out the extra toe joint.

By all counts, biologically, he is still useless, Quirkless, Midoriya Izuku.

So that leaves the question as why. Why is he floating? Why is he having these strange dreams that feel like he’s looking at his own ghost? Why can he suddenly go through solid objects, turn invisible?

Floating… Intangibility… Invisibility…

Oh, god, is he…

…Is he dead?

It all sounds like what a ghost could do. The floating, the intangibility, the invisibility. He stepped into a thing called a Ghost Portal, even if nobody knew that but him. He could have died and become a Ghost. But that’s impossible. He has a heartbeat, still! He’s breathing! He can’t be dead!

(But his heartbeat is slower. He breathes slower. He’s cold.)

He’s not dead.

(Or, maybe– not fully. Is that possible? To be half-ghost? There had been weirder things to happen in the world, admittedly. If ghosts did exist, and Izuku found himself becoming one, maybe he could be half-ghost? To be half-dead…?)

As the week home he has from school goes on, he finds more oddities about this new… existence.

There’s a buzz in the core his chest, too; one he can’t quite explain. It buzzes with the ebb and flow of his strange… powers. The floating, intangibility, and invisibility. It has to be connected to that, maybe it’s the source of his power, but Izuku doesn’t know what it is, how it works, or why he has it.  

Unfortunately for Izuku, any credible writing on ghosts seemed to be incredulous reports of small towns in America being over-run with “post-conscious, non-sentient, ectoplasmic beings”, or responses to those reports claiming ghosts had their own society and culture that they innately learned at death. And these reports were buried in his search engines. It took hours for him to find them, but on the nights he couldn’t sleep, it provided a decent distraction.

Nothing on his sort of situation. Help I accidentally killed myself but I’m also still alive?! That search results in zero reports or articles.

He also tries to find any reports of Quirkless people developing a Quirk suddenly, like an Awakening of sorts.

And unfortunately, that answer was a resounding no.

Most of the time, the Quirkless person was misidentified by their doctor as Quirkless but had an invisible quirk. One that wouldn’t activate, unless under certain circumstances. One that no one would ever even notice. Maybe slightly better senses of taste or smell, but nothing extraordinary; maybe something that only works in a vacuum like space or underwater.

Sometimes they would have invisible quirks that would go through an Awakening– a sudden evolution of their quirk due to a life-or-death situation– but they would have had to have been misdiagnosed, if you will, as Quirkless.

The toe-joint test is old, unsurprisingly, but it still has a 95% accuracy, with 5% wiggle room set aside for genuine human error. Blood tests are what determine whether or not a Quirk factor was present, and Izuku has seen his x-rays, and hears what doctors say when they think he’s not paying attention.

(There’s a reason most Quirkless people don’t live until their thirties.)

He gets up, goes to the bathroom, and finds himself staring at his reflection. There’s no white hair, no cyan eyes, no pallor. Just himself, maybe a little paler, with Lichtenberg figures dancing up from his right palm to his shoulder.

What have I become?

✨👻✨

Even with his medical records and the doctor’s notes, Izuku is still expected to return to Aldera Junior High by the end of the week. Of course, they don’t give a shit about him. The only person who does is his mom, and she’s kinda required to care about him.

He’s not in any pain anymore, aside from a mild headache that goes thump-thump-thump with his heartbeat, and a queasy feeling in his stomach. As he’s started to eat more solid foods over the week, he’s been unfortunately learning that salty foods seem to disagree with him more than before. Surviving off a diet of plain rice, egg, and frozen peas isn’t quite the life he wants to live, but it’s the only food in the house he could safely keep down.

But he can’t afford to miss any more days at Aldera. If he does, the school’s threatened to report his mom to the Office for Child Safety Services and hold him back a year. He’s been doing his school work since he got discharged from the hospital, and his mom has been stopping by the school on her way home to pick up his new homework packets, and he’s still getting his usual high grades. Why they have an issue with Izuku staying away from the school when they seem to hate him so much, he doesn’t know.

Izuku shuffles into the old building and is immediately assaulted by the stench of mold and mildew forming under the tiles under his feet. Aldera has always had that old building smell, but with the loud buzz of fluorescent lights above him, and the queasy feeling in his stomach, and the small headache, it seems worse today.

Izuku’s not in a good mood.

It gets worse when he has to throw out lilies that have been placed by his locker. The indoor shoes don’t look like they’ve been messed with, but he’s in a habit of holding them upside down in the nearest trashcan and shaking them before putting them on. For once, no pins, tacks, or rocks fall out of them. That’s nice, at least.

They still left lilies.

The strange buzz in his chest feels angry-furious-betrayed at the thought. It feels like it has its own sentience sometimes, which could be concerning, but at the moment, Izuku couldn’t bring himself to care. He buries the feelings deeper. If the lilies weren’t dried out so badly, he would bring them home for his mom, but they flake apart in his hands when he pulls them off his locker.

As Izuku shuffles through the hallways to his classes, early enough to avoid most other students, his phone buzzes, again.

CATNYAP: good luck with school today, mini!

ME: Thanks, Cat! :D

Cat didn’t know the whole story of why Izuku was out of school for more than a week, but Izuku had confided in him a bit, talking about a health scare. Yeah, a health scare.

Becoming something other than human definitely counts as a “health scare”.

He isn’t sure why his brain has locked in on the theory that Izuku is something other. Maybe it’s because he’s used to feeling other. And the sudden collection of powers he’s amassed feels too good to be true, especially the way he seems to have received them.

Izuku can imagine all he wants about what it’d be like to have a Quirk, but he’s pretty sure they don’t tend to feel like… This.

Okoru-sensei is sitting in the classroom, looking over test review sheets, when Izuku makes it to the door. He is always wearing some sort of argyle-print sweater vest (in the ugliest of colors, but nobody will ever tell that to his face) over a white button-up and slacks. Despite the “no quirks in class rule”, Okoru-sensei’s Quirk, Green Thumb, gives him the ability to understand exactly what a plant needs, and their classroom has more potted plants than the other junior high homeroom classes.

Not that anybody minds. Most of the building is old and stuffy, anyway. Having plants in the classroom helps on certain days.

Okoru-sensei almost doesn’t notice Izuku as he enters. He only glances up at the sound of movement down the hallway and notices Izuku when he’s already halfway across the room. Okoru-sensei jumps a bit at his sudden appearance. “Oh. G-Good morning, Midoriya.” He pauses. “That’s strange, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Good morning, sensei.” Izuku responds quietly, setting his bag down by his desk.

Of course, his desk is covered with cards and notes from his classmates and peers. This isn’t the first time that his classmates believed he died. The previous year, a group of girls started a rumor that Izuku had died in a freak accident when he just missed a few days of school for a funeral out of town for one of his dad’s old friends.

He doesn’t take the time to look at them. He knows what they’re full of. False pleasantries. Maybe apologies for bullying, but they were never genuine. He picks up all the cards and immediately walks them over to the trash can in the corner of the room.

“Midoriya, that’s rather rude, isn’t it? Your classmates cared enough to leave messages for you while you were… out.” Okoru-sensei reprimands him near immediately.

Izuku feels himself shrink under his teacher’s gaze a bit. He glances down at his hands full of the cards, and sighs, taking them back to his desk to at least give them a chance. The odds of his classmates suddenly having a change of heart are slim to none, but maybe?

A group of girls enter his class. Izuku’s bad with their names, but he’s better with their Quirks. Not that they ever really talk to him, anyway, though once they see him messing with the pile of cards and letters left on his desk, they immediately start whispering to each other. Whether they’re purposefully being loud about it, or are just unaware they’re loud, Izuku can hear everything they say.

“Is that Midoriya?”

“Oh my god, he’s actually back?”

“I thought he really died for once!”

“Hey, Midoriya!” One of the girls yells across the classroom. “What happened? We thought you actually died!”

Well. “I, u-um. I didn’t–”

The girls start laughing the moment he starts speaking.

Izuku sighs, sits down at his desk, and pulls out one of his notebooks– hero analysis 12. It’s technically a rewritten copy of the first, painstakingly copied over the days he was home after The Accident from memory. Some of the words aren’t right, and he hasn’t yet printed out the photos from the Mt. Lady fight again, so the pages are empty.

The door swings open with a bang, and in comes Bakugou.

He looks down again. He wants, so desperately, to disappear, but now that he can literally do that, he holds back those thoughts as he watches his right hand disappear from view. Izuku hides it under the desk and grabs the pen with his other hand.

Bakugou sits in front of Izuku, though, so he is bound to notice Izuku eventually. He saunters over to his seat and kicks it out from under the desk with one of his legs, and stares directly at Izuku.

But Ka–Bakugou– doesn’t do anything. He looks Izuku up and down, and grunts. “You’re not dead. Guess you didn’t take my advice the other day.”

(“Take a swan-dive off the roof and pray you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life!”

“--Be realistic–”

“--Quirkless–”)

Bakugou sits.

There’s a chill in Izuku’s body, and he feels the buzzing in his chest grow louder, louder, louder– anger, resentment, why, why, why-- but he can’t handle the possibility of accidentally disappearing in front of his whole class, and he quickly buries the feelings. Or he tries to, at least.

Overhead, the lights start to flicker on and off. Everyone already gathered in the classroom glances up, and so does Izuku, and the room falls quiet.

No, way. Izuku takes a deep breath, feeling the buzzing grow quieter. The lights stop flickering once he feels the buzzing calm down. He’d taken a deep breath to test his theory, and it was proven correct immediately. That was me? I can affect wiring, too?!

“Oh, freaky!” someone in class says, but everyone chalks it up to faulty wiring.

It’s not the first time, Aldera Junior High is in an old building. And, well, now that Izuku can apparently make them do that—it might not be the last time.

Okoru-sensei clears his throat as the last few students enter class.

✨👻✨

Toxic green. It’s surrounding him. It’s suffocating him.

He floats in the void. His hair is white-black-green. His eyes are cyan, toxic, staring back at him. He knows it’s him, but it isn’t him, at the same time; it’s a twisted mirror version of him. White hair, cyan eyes, not the familiar green from his reflection.

It’s a memory-it’s a dream. He’s sitting down in that weird lab in the weird building, the ghost portal sparked to life behind him. Everything smells like fire and ozone.

Nothing smells.

Nothing exists.

Nothing, nothing, nothing

He’s numb.

He is torn between existence, half-alive, half-dead–--

“OI!” Bakugou slamming on his desk startles Izuku out of his thoughts.

Daydream. Vision. Flashback? God, Izuku doesn’t even know at this point.

His mind is a little foggy; it’s, strangely, Bakugou who pulls him out of it. The final bell has rung, and they’re officially done with cleaning duty for the day. He finds himself in his homeroom classroom, broom in hand.

The broom closet is open. Was he putting it back?

“What the fuck are you doing, Deku?”

“I, um. Sorry. What?”

“You keep staring off into space all creepy-eyed. It’s fucking annoying!” Bakugou says, immediately walking into Izuku’s personal space. Even before he got his Quirk as a child, when he was a loud, explosive four-year-old, he didn’t have much respect for space, either. Bakugou rips the broom from Izuku’s hands. “Did the lightning fry your brain and make you more useless than before, or were you always this stupid?”

I wasn’t hit by lightning, actually, Izuku wants to correct. He stays silent, but clenches his fists as Bakugou turns his back, and throws the broom into the broom closet. He feels the buzz in his chest, in his core, begin to churn with energy. Anger. Upset. Betrayal. No-friend. Hurt. Hurt, hurt, hurt.

The lights flicker overhead, again. Off-on-off, off-off-off, on-off, on-off-off, on-off, off-on-off-off. Almost like a code. Go away.

It’s only Bakugou, his two friends-slash-lackeys in the classroom, and Izuku. He hadn’t paid attention when his other classmates were leaving, which meant he was left at their mercy. Both of Bakugou’s friends block the two doors in and out of their classroom, crossing their arms and smirking as Bakugou slams the broom closet shut, and turns on his heel to face Izuku.

“You didn’t try to off yourself the other day, did you?”

“What? N-No, I–”

“Stop the fucking stuttering and answer my question,” Bakugou responds, grabbing a hold of Izuku’s shoulder tightly.

“No, um, I didn’t–”

“Good.” His hands are warm. Very warm. Izuku knows the sensation well—not an explosion, but Bakugou can terrify people by just increasing the temperature on his palms. It’s cool, a cool intimidation technique, but it sucks when it’s used on Izuku. “If I find out you’re lying to me, Deku. I’ll be fucking pissed.”

Why? Izuku wants to ask. He feels his core churn again. Why would you be pissed? YOU told ME to go of myself! If I had, the blame would be on YOU and every other classmate who pushed me to that!

He doesn’t say anything. Anger-anger-ANGER flows through his core, and the lights start flickering even more, before one of them sparks out, shattering, right above one of Bakugou’s “friends”. It's the light that hangs right above Izuku's desk as well. He yelps, running away immediately, as the glass shatters on the floor.

“What the hell!” The boy—Izuku doesn’t know his name, but his quirk allows him to grow and shrink his fingernails to whatever length he wants—yelps. “Damn, Aldera’s really gotta fix that wiring problem.”

Bakugou glances at his “friend”, the remnants of the lightbulb, and then back at Izuku. There’s an indecipherable look to his face, as he backs up a bit. “Freaky Deku,” Bakugou muttered, before turning around and waving his lackeys out of the room.

Chapter Text

Something’s different about Deku, and it’s infuriating that nobody else is acknowledging it.

Really—Bakugou Katsuki is meant to be the first (and only) student from Aldera Junior High to get to U.A., because he’s the only one observant enough to notice that Deku is fucking stranger than ever before.

Why is nobody fucking talking about this?

The two extras that like to hang around him—Katsuki can’t even bother to remember their names or learn them, no matter how much they claim they’re going to try for U.A., too, they’re both too stupid and their Quirks are too weak to get them in—don’t acknowledge it past “if that’s what you think, Bakugou”, which is hardly an acknowledgment.

Midoriya Izuku changed. He’s still a sniveling little Quirkless wimp, but his presence has suddenly become ten times freakier. He still flinches and pouts when Katsuki, or any other of his classmates, try to put him in his proper place, but his eyes are hollower. He feels, like…

Well, Deku feels like he walked out of a horror, or some shit. Katsuki doesn’t care much for movies unless they’re about heroes beating up bad guys, but he gets the gist of the horror movies. Something happened and he changed, and nobody is talking about it and it’s making Katsuki so mad.

“You didn’t try to off yourself the other day, did you?” He asks, trying to hold back the explosions in his hands as he snaps Deku out of one of his weird freaky-ass trances.

The nerd jumps and starts to stutter. “N-No, I didn’t—”

He grabs the nerd and pulls him in tightly. Katsuki can feel the heat emanating from his palms, the heat that always let to a burst, and he makes sure the nerd feels it, too. “Stop the fucking stuttering and answer my question already.”

Take a swan dive off the roof, and pray you get a Quirk in your next life!

The words had tumbled out of him the other day—the day after that, Deku had gotten himself struck by lightning. It felt like an accident, their teacher said Midoriya was in an accident, and he’ll be out for a while, and he’d seen Auntie Inko picking up packets of homework for Deku to keep up with once he’s better, but who gets themselves struck by lightning in a metropolitan place like Musutafu?

It'd be different if Deku was in the middle of nowhere, and the lightning attracted itself to the tallest thing. But Deku is, amongst other things, a bit of a runt, and everything else around him in a street should have been struck first.

Why is nobody else asking this? Why is everyone pitying him? Something is up with Deku.

“No, I didn’t—” Deku says, though his voice is still shaking.

“Good.” Katsuki says, and for once, he means it, for once. He makes sure that Deku can feel his warming hands through their school uniform. As much as he hates Deku, he doesn’t want the useless loser to actually die. It’d hurt Auntie Inko, who lost her husband shortly before Deku was born. It wouldn’t hurt many other people because Deku was a bit of a lonely loser but it’d hurt Auntie Inko, and he doesn’t think he’d ever be able to look her in the face if he was the catalyst, the one responsible, for Izuku—for Deku—dying. “If I find out you’re lying to me, Deku. I’ll be fucking pissed.”

Katsuki forces a smile, but it’s more like a wild dog baring its teeth.

But then something changes.

There’s a heaviness to the air. The lights above flicker. They had been flickering all day, though, and Aldera’s a shithole, so that’s no surprise.

Katsuki looks into Deku’s eyes, and for a second, it looks like—well, it’s gotta be the trick of the light, because it looks like his eyes glow an unnatural cyan, for just a second. It’s unnerving. It’s inhuman. It’s—different.

Before he can think too much about it, ask Deku what the hell was that, he’s distracted by the shattering of the glass of one of the fluorescent lights right above one of the extras who always hangs out with him. It’s a small, mini-explosion—the extra jumps out of the way right before glass and small bits of metal wiring hit him, at least, but he still screams like a little baby girl when it happens.

He looks back at Deku. His face is shocked and confused, just like everybody else, but there’s—there’s a knowing there.

Could…?

No. No fucking way. He was Quirkless. Useless. Unless he’d, somehow, someway, set the light to short out right above his own damn desk like that, there’s no way that he was responsible for that.

The cyan eyes flicker back into his mind.

“Freaky Deku,” Katsuki mumbles under his breath, before turning on his heels.

There’s something weird about Deku, and nobody is talking about it.

✨👻✨

He can’t sleep.

Normally, that’s not a problem for Izuku. Sometimes insomnia does plague him, once or twice a month, whenever he’s particularly hyperfixated on analyzing a new hero or learning something that would seem unrelated, but still connects to his primary interests. For example, orcas in the wild can get caught up in ‘fads’ similar to humans—in the early 1980s, a population of them was found to be wearing salmon fish just as a human would wear a hat. Gang Orca is known to be rather fashionable and up-to-date with the current fashion trends, even though he never changes his hero costume.

But whenever he realizes it’s past one in the morning, he manages to make himself sleep, or at least, lay down with his eyes closed for a bit, not moving. He needs sleep, because he constantly needs to be on guard at school, or he’ll end up hurt worse by his classmates by the end of the day. If he’s rested enough, he can avoid the problematic areas.

Except, now… Well, Izuku can’t sleep, no matter what he tries.

It’s been an exponentially growing problem since his accident. He can get a few good night’s rest, before his body is too awake to sleep. He’s tried tea to help doze off, and melatonin to hopefully knock him out. While it isn’t a bad problem yet to need stronger medications for it, he still doesn’t want it to be a problem.

But it is.

Izuku doesn’t know why he isn’t able to sleep, but it started right after the accident, so it has to be connected to his new, strange, powers… Right? Right?

He’d started a new journal on his powers. Journal number thirteen—an unlucky number in the west, if he remembers correctly—hidden underneath the mattress of his bed, where his mom isn’t lucky to find it.

Not that he’d really… mind, if she found it. Izuku’s mom is good about not reading through his stuff. But at the same time, he doesn’t even know how to tell her. Or what to tell her. Or if he should tell her.

Yeah, mom, remember that Accident? Oh, no, it wasn’t lightning. I think I became some sort of freakazoid monster?

… No. That wouldn’t do.

He kicks off the sheets, the All Might duvet flipped over so only the golden yellow underneath color is visible now. He’d slowly been taking All Might merch down, shoving it in a corner of his room. While it was getting it mostly out of the way, the way he’d ended up stacking everything started to become almost like a shrine to All Might, which wasn’t that great of a thought in the long run, but it at least doesn’t look like he’s so suddenly lost the obsession he’s had with the number one hero.

Looking at it reminds him—

An interview from a few days before Izuku met All Might, where he says, “You can be a hero, as long as you put all your MIGHT into it–”

“Yeah, right.” Izuku scoffs, mumbling to himself. “Unless you’re Quirkless, then it isn’t realistic.”

It was a bit of a shock that All Might had been so… Callous, with his wording. Izuku didn’t even know what he should have expected. He grabbed onto All Might so quickly, so suddenly, without even thinking. And he asked the question, and All Might told him, honestly, kid, you gotta be realistic, completely breaking the smiling façade so many people around the world had come to love, and left Izuku there, alone, on the rooftop.

But.

But.

Izuku isn’t Quirkless anymore. Not technically. He’s been falling through things, turning invisible, floating. He glances down at his hands, focusing on the buzzing under his skin, in his chest, in his core. It feels like the buzzing of electricity in old buildings, of lightbulbs about to die, of the wind in the middle of a thunderstorm. He’s not powerless.

Something settles in his mind. He’s got a lot of questions, and only one place will have the answers he seeks. He grabs a hoodie from his closet, and slips off his flannel PJ pants for a pair of jeans. Pausing at his doorway, Izuku creaks it open slowly, holding his breath to listen to the sound of his mom’s gentle snoring.

When she’s out, she’s usually out like a light. Izuku could definitely sneak out for an hour or so, and be back before sunrise. He isn’t grounded after his “Accident”, even though she threatened to do so after he first woke up in the hospital. As far as she—or anybody else knew—Izuku had been struck by a stray bolt of lightning, not fried in what could possibly be an interdimensional portal in the basement of an abandoned building.

…The more Izuku thinks about it, the more bizarre his life seems to become.

He grabs his shoes and keys from the front entryway and shoves his phone into his pocket. He doesn’t need his phone for light, but if anything bad were to happen—again, hopefully not though—he’d need it right away.

Not to mention, this probably isn’t the safest thing to do.

Musutafu is a city built strangely. In the hills of the city sit U.A., of course; a good twenty-minute train-ride from Izuku’s apartment. Some mansions, too, close to U.A., house pro heroes and their families.

But if one goes down the hills, closer to the beach, it becomes more unsafe. While it isn’t a place where a lot of big hero action happens, such as large raids on criminal organizations, it still gets its fair share of crime and debauchery. Vigilantes and the occasional underground hero are the only ones who patrol the parts of the city where Izuku lives, which isn’t ideal.

As he walks down the street, he tugs his hood over his face. The city at night is a dangerous, unknown territory, but the buzzing in his chest isn’t going to shut up, and he needs to find the answers to what the hell happened to him. Hopefully, he could find something; or at least a place to start his research, if he returns to the abandoned building again.

There’s the sound of a random party coming from a building. A group of drunk businessmen trying to drink the pain of work away at cheap bars walk by on the other side of the street, singing an off-tune song from decades ago. Older teens and young adults that society forgot about lean up against the walls and share cheap cigarettes, barely glancing at Izuku as he passes.

He rounds the corner to the beach by Musutafu Bay– Dagobah. The moonlight reflecting on the ocean waves would have looked beautiful if the beach wasn’t covered in trash as it was.

That beach is where his mom and dad met, many years ago, but it had been slowly becoming a junkyard before Izuku was even born. His dad never had to see the beautiful beach where he later proposed to his mom as the ugly mess it is now, at least.

Someone should get to cleaning that soon, Izuku thinks, absentmindedly, before turning onto Jaku Street.

Izuku passes the beach and ends up on Jaku Street again. The same worn, abandoned buildings exist, the street empty and dark. There’s no signs of life or death, eerily quiet as the day that Izuku found it, minus the storm that had been tormenting him. He can’t see anyone nearby, but he keeps close to the sides of the buildings anyway.

If a car were to drive by, the driver drunk, to strike him and kill him fully?

Well, first of all, how embarrassing.

Second of all, Izuku wouldn’t know how to deal with that sort of shit luck.

The buzz in his chest seems to echo with his nervous heartbeat. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. Izuku glances at the time on his phone—it’s 1:00 in the morning, which is the latest Izuku can ever think about staying up, or being outside of his home. He’s definitely breaking some sort of curfew, but he needs to find the building.

He makes his way up the street. It was the second house on Jaku Street, so it should be easy to find.

As he makes his way up the street, he feels his heart and his core sink into his stomach. He speeds up his walk, skipping his steps into nearly a run, before skidding to a stop in front of the abandoned building.

Or where the abandoned building should be. The entire building was gone.

What? No, no, no—how? Why? Glancing around, there’s no construction equipment or even evidence of any demolition that had to have occurred. The lot was empty, just pure dirt, between the two buildings, and looking at it, the building definitely felt a lot bigger than the plot it had once stood in. There isn’t a sign for anything at all. Just… Dirt.

Now what do I do? Izuku can’t help but let out a little whine. Sad-upset-sad, his core sings.

The abandoned building was a mystery to begin with. The strange technology, the “ghost portal” that did this to Izuku… It couldn’t have been a fever dream brought on by being struck by lightning. Izuku can clench and flex his right hand and still feel a bit of nerve damage in it. He can see it in the scarring across his tissue, Lichtenberg figures dancing up his arm and to his chest. He can see it in how his body floats, falls through things, and disappears. He sees it in his dreams, where his eyes turn neon blue, and his hair turns snow white.

How could it disappear so quickly, with no stories online covering it?

His eyes threaten to overwhelm him with tears, and he tugs on the strings of his hoodie, bringing the fabric over them. Of course. Of course. Of course, this had to happen to Izuku. Nothing that was going on was making any sense. The universe took one look at Izuku, and decided that he had to have one of the worst lives he could have (see: Quirkless diagnosis, age 4), and then decided to kill him, or partially kill him?

What luck was this?

He sighs, and pushes his hood back off his face, wiping furiously at his cheeks in an attempt to dry them after his waterworks. Fine. Fine, I’ll figure something else out.

But what?

 ✨👻✨

He walks past Dagobah Beach, again. He remembers the story that his mom told him so many times; the day that she met his father, the day they fell in love.

Mom and Auntie Mitsuki were having a beach day, during a college break. The sun was shining and the weather was warm, and the water was sparkling blue. Mom was reading a book, and Mitsuki was tanning.

All of a sudden, bam—a volleyball hit Mom in the side of her face. Her glasses cracked, and a very embarrassed and guilty Midoriya Hisashi ran over to apologize.

Izuku never knew the beach when it was clean. The story goes as such; the beach was closed by the city for a while, following a villain attack that had left bits of shrapnel in the sand. They had promised the beach would be clean the following summer, but that didn’t happen. They then promised the next summer, and then the next summer, and so on. Eventually, people stopped asking; and someone dumped their trash on the beach one night. Once one piece of trash was dumped, it began to pile up.

And now it sits as Musutafu’s junk yard.

Which is a shame. Izuku’s seen the photos, and he can only imagine what the beach would look like at its peak.

A glance at his phone tells him the time, again—it’s now inching closer to two in the morning, which isn’t ideal. His home isn’t much further, of course, but he should start heading home if he wants to be in bed before his mom wakes up and finds him missing. But he can’t help but stop, and stare at the abandoned, forgotten beach, and peer past it to see the ocean waves, glimmering in the starlight.

The ocean is dangerous. The ocean claimed his father, shortly after Izuku was born. Yet, he can’t help but pause and watch it, as the waves go in and out, in and out…

–Dangerous–

– Not safe–

–Better of as a police officer, or paramedic, if you wanna save people–

The thoughts sneak up on him, reminders of the things that other people have said to him, have called him. They tend to do that when he isn’t expecting them the most, and they’ve stopped sounding like other people, and more like his own voice.

--Useless—

No. Izuku isn’t useless. He hasn’t ever been useless. Nobody is born useless. They all have a reason to exist.

--Be realistic--

No. Is that not the point of a dream? To be so unrealistic to reach out to, to strive for, so when one finally does achieve the impossible, the world is changed?

He clenches his fists and feels his core sing in his chest. Change, change, be a hero, show them they’re wrong, show them you’re worthy.

He’s going to show the world. He’s going to be a hero. No matter what anyone else says. He has powers now, he has the responsibility to do good, just like everybody else in the world. He doesn’t know how to use the powers, sure—he’s behind his classmates in terms of that. He doesn’t even know if he wants to register them yet, to come out and say, yeah, I got in a freak lab accident, but he’s going to figure it out. Somehow.

Izuku glances around. There’s a lot of trash in front of him.

And an idea begins to form.

Chapter Text

There are many theories on the origins of Quirks. A random mutation in humanity, the next step of evolution. A plague, carried by disease-bourne rats, like the plagues of old, infecting humanity one by one, causing these mutations. An act of God, an act of the Devil.

But the truth is much, much, more complicated.

In the year 2004 In a small town in Amity Park, a young boy opened a portal to a place known as the Infinite Realms. The ectoplasmic radiation that leaked out from that portal first spread to the town, and then the neighboring towns, and then the state, and eventually, the world…

-- On The True Origin of Quirks, a blog post by native Amity Park resident Daniyah Gray, year 2140.

✨👻✨

The plan is, actually, quite simple.

He thinks it over the following day, after getting home and getting an hour of sleep he didn’t necessarily need, and throughout all of his classes, barely paying attention to the lectures.

Izuku doesn’t need as much sleep as a normal person does. Not anymore. He needs about half; he can get away with three full nights of sleep at the very least. Four at the most, but Izuku can live off less sleep than normal, especially as summer vacation is rolling around, and not much will be happening between now and the U.A. Entrance Exams in the spring.

That is what he wants to train for, isn’t it? He could apply to Shiketsu, too, or maybe any other number of hero schools across Japan, but U.A. is not only the best, but the closest.  There, he could learn how to be a hero properly. He could do it. He could show them all he has what it takes to be a hero. Kacchan, All Might, all his teachers and classmates who doubted him, his mom, he’d show them all.

As simple as it is, the plan is still a little rough.

Clean up Dagobah Beach, using my new powers.

Simple and to the point; but where would the trash go? He could haul it to scrap yards that would take it, or maybe pile it up in only one corner of the beach, where he could get someone to pick it up when he isn’t there. Maybe he could take the smaller things and sell them for extra cash, and the larger things he could leave and let someone else take them? Extra cash would be very handy.

What could he do with his powers? He doesn’t know his limits yet. He doesn’t even know how to measure them properly! But he does, as he does best; he starts jotting down even more notes in his thirteenth journal.

My Quirk Powers

Name: “Ghost”

(I don’t even know if I need to even name this really, but this feels right somehow)

Invisibility
Intangibility/Phasing
Floating (could also be full flight?)
Electrical interference
Enhanced senses
Healing factor
Somehow, I don’t feel like this is it

CAUSE:

Electrical accident in the basement of an abandoned building on Jaku Street, in something called the “Fenton Ghost Portal”. Does that mean the Accident killed me? I still have a heat heartbeat and I’m still breathing, which leads to another question—

What am I?

…What is he?

“--Izuku?”

He snaps his head up. He was so lost in the zone of writing, that he hadn’t realized his mom had walked in. Izuku tries to nervously close his notebook and turn his desk chair to face his mom.

“Sorry, mom! I was, um. Lost in thought.” Izuku says. His mom laughs and flicks the light overhead on. He hadn’t even noticed when the sun had gone down; he’d been sitting in the dark.

“I could tell, sweetie. If you’re gonna stay up later, you should at least have your light on. You’ll strain your eyes, Izuku.” His mom says, smiling. “Also, good news. I managed to get this Saturday off. So, we can… We can do whatever you want, Izuku. Together.”

A day with his mom? They hadn’t had one in ages. Definitely not since before his accident. I should tell her, he thinks, but smiles at his mom, “That sounds… great, Mom.”

“Yeah. I did have to cover someone’s shifts for the next few Saturdays, so you’ll be on your own for those nights, but we can at least go to the mall, or get dinner out somewhere. How does that sound?”

“Perfect.” Izuku replies. He pauses. Gets a thought. “Hey, um. Mom?”

“Yes, Izuku?”

“Do…” He takes a deep breath, trying to not think of the journal in front of him. He doubts his mom would be able to read any of the writing in it with the angle she’s at; also, Izuku’s handwriting is a little atrocious. “Do you think there’s more out there than just quirks?”

Izuku’s mom hesitates, for a moment. She cocks her head to the side. Looks Izuku up and down, before shrugging. “I mean, I don’t know, sweetie. There’s not a lot of evidence for that stuff, right?”

“...Right.” Izuku turns back to his notebook. Number thirteen. Bad luck.

“But I can’t say I’m not an optimist about stuff.” She adds. “Maybe there is– we don’t know a lot about quirks, or even about the world.” Izuku’s mom leans in and fluffs up Izuku’s hair. “I’m sure you’d be able to figure that out, with that big brain of yours.”

“Mooomm…” Izuku flushes, pushing his hand away. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no. Which is… Good. Really good. But then again, he doesn’t know how to tell her the truth about what really happened the day of the accident. He needs to think it over a bit, to get the words right, so she doesn’t freak out. Izuku’s freaked out enough. But if he can prove to her that he can control these powers, and use them for good, maybe that’ll be enough.

“What brought this up?”

“I—um, nothing, just thinking.”

Izuku’s mom chuckles. “Well, maybe those things can exist. Maybe someone out there has a quirk like it. You’d be the one to figure that stuff out, not me.” She wraps her arms around Izuku’s shoulders, pulling him in for an awkward one-person standing, one-person sitting hug. It was nice, though.

She was… she was warm.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“--Oh, you’re still cold, Izuku!” She pulls back quickly, grabbing a loose blanket (Present Mic-printed, not an All Might print), and drapes it around him. “You sure you’ve been feeling better?”

“I’m—I’m fine. The doctors said it might be a side effect from the, um. The accident, remember?” He clears his throat. “Anyway, uh, I should probably get to bed. I’ve got a test in math tomorrow, and I don’t want to, uh, fall asleep in the middle of it!” His lying could use a bit of work, but his mom is none the wiser.

“Right. Well, goodnight, sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you, mom.”

“Love you, too, Izuku.” She quietly shuts the door behind him, leaving him alone in his room.

Of course, he doesn’t go to sleep. It’s one of his nights where he stays awake, and on this night, he tosses his notebook number thirteen, a couple of pens, and a bottle of water into his bag and when he can tell his mom fully falls asleep for the night, he leaves out the front door again, on his way to Dagobah Beach, to finalize his plans.

✨👻✨

Equinox tells the other ghosts that he doesn’t fully remember his halfa days, especially the earlier days, but in truth, he remembers them quite well.

The strange confusion at the new senses, the buzz of his core underneath his skin, the feeling of not quite right, not quite life, not quite death. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember those feelings. It got better as he interacted with more ghosts from the Realms, of course. When humans die, and become ghosts—or denizens of the Realms, as some call them—they already know everything there is to be about being a ghost. They have that built-in knowledge once they form. I am a ghost, my obsession is this. They don’t change, they don’t grow.

But Equinox—when he was still human, when he was still Danny—didn’t have that. Neither did Vlad; but he had years before Danny to master his own otherworldly abilities, and even then, he didn’t have the potential that Danny had been remade for. He wasn’t chosen by the Realms to be the Champion of Balance; Danny had been chosen.

Now, Equinox sits in the Clocktower, watching the screens his once mentor took much time to tend to, watching as the newest champion begins his own journey.

“Equinox.” Clockwork’s voice echoes above him. The Ancient of Time floats down, to stay right next to him. Their face is indecipherable, even more so in their child form; he can’t tell exactly what they’re feeling, or what they’re thinking. “It is late, is it not?”

“Maybe.” Equinox curves his ghostly tail into him, pulling it into his chest.

“You don’t need to be watching the new Champion. All is as it should be.”

“I know, I know. I just—” Equinox sighs. “When I first died and became the first Champion, the ghost portal was there, and it was giving me a connection to the Zone so I could learn everything about being a ghost. But he—he doesn’t have that. The Liminal Space is gone, now, and there’s no telling if it will ever come back, and he’s just on his own. And I hate it.”

“I am aware, Equinox,” Clockwork says. “Everyone’s journey will not be the same. That would make life rather dull, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess, but—I hate not knowing what’s going to happen to him. Not even you know what’s going to happen to him, and you’re the Ancient of Time.”

“I never knew what would happen to you, either. I never knew whether you would fall to your violent urges and level off Amity Park, or whether you would rise above and become the Realms’ greatest hero. My worries grew tenfold when you defeated Pariah Dark many years ago. Even though I was never supposed to grow attached to any particular timeline, you changed that.” Clockwork shifts from child to adult, but their maturity remains the same. “Yet you even tore apart time itself in order to save your friends and family. Have faith in the new Champion, my friend.”

“I’ll… I’ll try.” Equinox says, leaning back. “I guess I should give you some, heh, space, then?”

“It would be appreciated. Even though you are an Ancient now, you should still seek some rest, or distraction from this, for a bit.” Clockwork says, with a small smirk, not acknowledging Equinox’s horrible pun. “Before you go, Equinox… You are not an Observant as I am. Remember that.”

Right, right. When he’d established the Council so many years ago and ascended into an Ancient, Equinox made it his mission to avoid being drafted into their all-seeing, never interfering nonsense. Of course, the Council voted to stay as neutral as possible, only interfering a bit if they must, as long as a vote was cast. That’s why the Alpha Timeline B-HNA had been set forward faster in human evolution compared to the other timelines, and why many small changes had been made to stabilize other timelines, too.

However, he typically had no reason to interfere on his own, and if he did, it would be seen socially as unbecoming, because of his Council position. But he was an adult ghost who could make his own adult ghost decisions now.

Hm. Well, he wouldn’t directly interfere, but as the Ancient of Space, if one of the ghosts that had become his allies, or had a debt to pay to him, ended up near the new Champion to help him, well—Equinox would neither confirm nor deny it was his doing.

With a large, toothy smirk, Equinox flew off into the Realms to find that ghost.

✨👻✨

“Midoriya, uh, a moment before you go, please?”

The day had started pretty long for Izuku. It was day one of his “Clear Dagobah Beach” mission, and while he had been pretty successful to the plan (a fridge had been moved to the side of the road, where someone would pick it up to sell for their own; Izuku took a box full of microwaves and scrapped kitchen appliances to a scrap metal place and gotten quite a wad of cash for it), Izuku’s body ached like crazy.

He was still a little new to his ‘Quirk’, and still figuring out how exactly to activate it. It acted on its own when he was in danger, instinctually, but never off his own volition, which was annoying.

And, of course, it was a school day. He got home, showered, and headed off to Aldera, where it was hell like any other day. A few kids his age from the other homeroom class surrounded him in the entrance hall, spitting taunts and screaming profanities in his face because he dared to bump into one of them. He took it all, as he usually did.

So, it isn’t a surprise that something else would happen. As his classmates cleared off their desks and headed out to lunch, one of them sneered, “Oooh, Midoriya’s in trouble!” as they left.

Izuku nervously walks to the front of the classroom. The light above his desk, that he had accidentally burst the other day, still wasn’t on, which set the classroom in a bit of darkness, even with bright sunlight pouring in.

Okoru-sensei organizes a pile of papers in front of him. “I wanted to talk to you about something we’ve previously discussed. You put in an application to U.A.”

“Y-Yes, sir.” Izuku forgot that his teachers would be able to see his application, and they might be contacted for personal statements. Though the applications wouldn’t be outright denied if a personal statement was less than ideal for a student, it was a good baseline for the school to whether or not he would be able to take any test at their school. Not quite a black mark, but the possibility of one— though, at Aldera, Izuku knows he’s probably accumulated a few black marks against his behavior (for nothing but defending himself, of course).

Okoru-sensei looks him in the eye. There’s a bit of anger, but mostly… Disappointment. His teacher had pulled him aside a few days before the accident, and asked the same thing—are you sure that you want to apply for the hero department? With your grades, you could at least get into their general education department, and wouldn’t that be enough?

It’s too dangerous to risk your life like this, he had said. Or it felt like that’s what he said.

“I advised against it multiple times, didn’t I?” Not just that one time, either. And not just Okoru-sensei, either. Any time a teacher caught wind that Izuku was going to try for U.A. they would all find a way to crush Izuku’s dream in whatever way they could.

“Y-yes, but—”

“A few of your other teachers here at Aldera and I agreed that it would be best if we informed U.A. of your… biological limitations when we were asked for personal statements. Not to mention, you had only had that accident a few weeks ago, and while you are up and moving around, there’s nothing to say you won’t get in another one at U.A., and it would be their responsibility.” Okoru-sensei explains.

No. No, no, no. Izuku bit his lip to avoid the feeling that was rising up in his throat. His core starts to hum, louder and louder, WHY-NO-DON’T-NO-HURT, the lights above flicker overhead. He does his best to squash the feelings building up inside of him.

“I am just trying to look out for you as my student, Midoriya.” Okoru-sensei pulls out a folder of papers. Probably alternative schools to apply to. Izuku takes the folder as its handed to him, though he doesn’t plan to keep it. He’ll probably tear it to shreds the moment he’s alone. “You’re just not cut out to be a hero, and it’s about time you got a wake-up call for your silly dream.”

He pushes the feelings down enough to feel empty. He looks down at the folder, and he doesn’t even want to open it. The lights stop flickering overhead, at least; Okoru-sensei looks him in the eye, though Izuku can’t quite ignore the slight… terror, his teacher has in them. The temperature of the room has dropped a few noticeable degrees, and with the lights flickering like they have been, maybe his teacher is beginning to believe the rumors that Aldera’s haunted.

“Alright, you can go to lunch, now. Don’t expect to hear anything from U.A.’s hero department, now.” Okoru-sensei waves his hand, and Izuku nods. He slides the classroom door behind him shut with a soft thud.

He had a plan. Clean Dagobah Beach was his plan to learn how to use his powers, to try and catch up to his peers, to just try to get into U.A., or any other hero school. But now those chances were shot. If he tried for any other hero school, they would contact Aldera, and the same thing would happen. He’d get kicked out before any of it began.

U.A. even got rid of their Quirkless rule the previous year, so there had been a chance, but a chance he wasn’t going to be able to take, because his damn teachers, his damn life, was so impossibly against him.

Izuku makes his way to the nearest bathroom, where he immediately tears the folder he’s been handed to shreds. Nobody would believe he could be a hero. Nobody could ever believe in him. The world’s failed him, and there’s no changing that.

“Take a swan-dive off the roof, and pray you’re born with a Quirk in the next life!”

It wouldn’t do any good, now; the swan-dive. Izuku’s pretty sure he’s a little more resistant to death, now, being… Well, whatever he is, he isn’t quite sure yet. But he isn’t Quirkless, not anymore. He has power, he wants to use it for good, but—

What if…

No. No, Izuku, no, he shakes his head at himself. It’s a stupid thought. He didn’t even know where to start with that idea.

But if I don’t technically have a Quirk or a Quirk Factor, I’m not breaking any laws, am I? He thinks, making his way over to the sink, where he can look at his reflection in the mirror. For a second, his vision flashes—white hair, cyan eyes, there’s more to this power than I know—but it’s replaced by his normal reflection a moment later.

No, that’s a stupid idea. You’re only gonna get yourself killed…

The lights flicker overhead again. Izuku looks into the mirror.

…You can’t kill something that’s already dead.

Chapter Text

The Entrance Exams are, as always, quite dull for Shouta.

Of course, he pays attention. He’s paid— rather handsomely— to do so. He keeps his eyes peeled for any sort of true potential. There’s quite a lot in this year’s class, too.

He also tries to avoid suspicion of favoritism over Shinsou. Of course, he’s been training the boy for months, and it’d be illogical to lie and say he wasn’t proud of how far the boy had come. Even though Shinsou was still a teen, he’d managed to put on a decent bit of muscle. The lean and lithe sort of muscle a dancer would have. The boy weaves through robots with a pipe in one hand, taking out robot after robot. He helps other students as well, too; he isn’t aware of the rescue points, but Shinsou’s reaction to the danger around him isn’t to just beat ‘em up, but to make sure everyone is okay.

A good quality to have.

“Oh, wow, look at student number 667!” Nedzu says, pulling Shouta out of his thoughts. The big screen changes to focus on the student that the principal is talking about— a boy that Shouta recognizes as Bakugou Katsuki. Great potential for heroics, if his teachers had anything to say about it.

And they had a lot to say about it. Unending praise—Shouta’s a little alarmed by the amount of praise that the boy got, compared to how he’s currently acting. Things aren’t adding up.

“Looks like he’s on track to getting the highest score ever since All Might!” Vlad exclaims.

“Without any rescue points.” Shouta adds. He puts a mental tab on that. He wants Bakugou Katsuki in his class. If the boy was as… explosive as his quirk, he needed a level-headed teacher to instruct him.

Not Vlad.

“While on the other hand, we have student number 432,” Nedzu says. The camera refocuses on Shinsou. Shouta bites back a prideful smile. Not now. “Very low in terms of villain points, but…”

Multiple quick re-plays occur of Shinsou helping fellow contestants. Getting a group of people to help drag a girl out from under smashed rubble from someone else’s quirk. Distracting robots that were targeting unsuspecting students. It flickers back to a live feed, showing multiple angles of other students, flickering between them.

“Ah, does nobody have potential, Aizawa?” Vlad asks with a smirk, nudging him with a teasing tone.

Shouta rolls his eyes. Nedzu leans into All Might— whose civilian form Shouta still needs a bit of time getting used to, so much had happened that day between getting ready for the exams, Nedzu should have told him sooner— to explain the beef.

“Quite a few. It’d be illogical to assume that nobody applying for an exam like this would.” He retorts. A few gasps in the room. Their banter is usually like this, though. As much as he detests Vlad King, there’s not total animosity there. He can work with the other man amicably. But they do get on each other’s nerves, quite a bit. “I won’t tell you who, though.”

“Aww, c’mon, ‘Zawa!” Hizashi adds, leaning in with a smirk. “You don’t want Vlad getting the students you want?” Shouta rolls his eyes and returns to the feeds. A silent signal for everyone to stop.

Still, he can’t help but watch, and wonder about the students before him. The potential is there. The potential is there in everybody, realistically; nobody ought to be defined by their Quirk, as much as society relies on it. From louder, flashy Quirks like Bakugou Katsuki’s Explosion, Kaminari Denki’s Electrification, or Iida Tenya’s Engine, to the quieter quirks like Shinsou Hitoshi and Brainwashing or Monoma Neito’s Copy, there seemed to be decent pickings this year.

It'll be tricky to root out the good ones for his class. But he’ll do his best to snag them all before Vlad can get to them, again.

You miss one Entrance Exam because of a literal stab wound, and he takes all the good students…

No matter. He’s sure that he’ll get the students he wants more, and will work better with-- Nedzu will be a tie breaker and will wave things more in Shouta’s favor, just as he had years before.

Except last year, of course.

Damn stab wound.

✨👻✨

Izuku feels a pang of jealousy when their sensei pulls Bakugou to the front of the class to announce he made it into U.A. The boy beams with energy and delight at the praise he gets showered with, meanwhile Izuku is stuck in the back of the classroom, wondering what exactly his teachers said about him to get his application rejected.

He should be up there. The energy in his chest buzzes in anger. He’d gotten a letter from U.A. few days after Okoru-sensei spoke to him. Izuku didn’t want to open it. He knew what it said.

Dear Quirkless Loser,

We’re NOT sorry you can’t get in because you’re too useless. Hopefully, this won’t send you on a villain arc LMAO!

K thnx bye,

-- U.A.

…Well, it wouldn’t be that dramatic, but that’s probably what it does say, and Izuku doesn’t want to see any of it.

He sinks into his desk a little more.

“Bakugou, we’d love to give you a sincere congratulations for your acceptance into U.A.!” Okoru-sensei is full of pride for a student who he’s probably going to talk about in the news as an absolute darling of a student when Kacchan goes pro. Because he has such a powerful quirk.

Of course. Quirks.

It always came down to Quirks.

Once upon a time, they were something Izuku reveled in. He loved them more than he loved himself, most of the time. He and his mother had spent hundreds of dollars on quirk-related books about theory and application before he had The Accident. He’d spend nights dreaming and praying to every god and every pantheon for a quirk.

But now? He didn’t know exactly what to feel.

The Accident was horrible. His fingers on his right hand go numb occasionally— rarer now than it once was, at least— but the scar was still there, a permanent reminder. He had a chance-- a chance to chase his dreams. Maybe if he’d said something sooner, hadn’t waffled about on his new powers, this situation could be avoided.

But it wasn't enough. Izuku is never enough. No matter how hard he tries.

There’s always another way, his brain supplies for him. The thought of doing that—of saying screw the system, I’m gonna be a hero no matter what—makes his core hum with excitement. Even with his work on Dagobah, he doesn’t feel like he’s making any progress with his abilities, past not accidentally activating them. It feels like there’s some sort of block there, preventing him from fully accessing his abilities, and he can’t quite figure that out. But by now, at least; he’s not turning invisible and falling through things as often as he once was.

He wonders if his mother is content now that his dreams were crushed by everyone. By his teachers. By other heroes. By society.

…By All Might.

Be realistic. Take a swan dive off the roof. What would it hurt, anyway? Maybe if you did, maybe there would be consequences for once. Maybe the crushing pain would go away—

Okay, nope. No, bad thoughts. Izuku pushes that away and goes back to focusing on the other bad thoughts he was trying to avoid because contemplating becoming a vigilante was a better place for his brain to be than contemplating, well—taking a lot of people’s advice.

Well, there is a bright side to it all; the announcement of Bakugou Katsuki being Aldera’s first and only student attending U.A means that Izuku isn’t going to have to deal with Kacchan ever again. No more burnt school uniforms, no more suicide baits, nothing. He’s jealous, of course, of the other boy’s Quirk and power, but there’s a bright side to everything, as his mom likes to say.

The final bell rings, and class gets dismissed for the day. Izuku isn’t on any cleaning duty for the afternoon, so he grabs his things, and ducks out of the classroom as fast as he can.

There’s always another way, Izuku…

✨👻✨

The beach cleaning is going by slower than Izuku wants it to, but he’s happy with the progress, nonetheless. Most of the smaller bits of trash he’s collected have been sold as scrap metal and cleared out. The larger, heavier bits like the literal refrigerators and stoves and old CRT televisions were being picked up by someone—Izuku doesn’t know who, exactly, but he leaves them near the street and someone comes to pick them up and hauling them away. Hopefully they aren’t being used for evil purposes, but Izuku wipes his hands clear of that because they could’ve raided the beach long before then for the trash and didn’t.

He was also expecting to gain, maybe, a little bit of muscle. It’s been a slog of two months, going out for three nights a week, clearing what he can between one and three in the morning, before walking across town to get to the scrap metal trader when they open up at 4 am. But despite everything, he’s hardly gained any muscle. His limbs are definitely stronger than before, but his body is still rather small. He’s lither than before, at least; but that’s hardly any change.

He told his mom he’s doing morning runs, not cleaning up trash at Dagobah beach, if he ever gets home late. The money he gets from the scrap metal either gets tucked inside his mom’s wallet when she isn’t paying attention, or in a small shoe box under Izuku’s bed.

It’s not much, but it’s a little more cash than Izuku’s used to getting.

There’s a good section cleared out, right by the waves, where Izuku can sit and watch the sunrise some mornings, if he wants to.

It’s peaceful, despite knowing those same waves took his dad from him before he was born. Midoriya Hisashi was a utility worker on a ship, which took him away from Musutafu a lot, but Midoriya Inko never loved him any less for it. It was a tragic accident at sea, an unexpected storm, that took his dad away. Despite knowing the tumultuous relationship Izuku’s family has with the sea, there’s no denying that the rush of the waves on the beach don’t help calm Izuku’s mind when he watches the waves.

One morning after a particularly rough haul finds him staring at the waves as the sun rises again. Moving a fridge ended up with him discovering he somehow has enhanced strength as well and dropping it on top of himself out of shock. He managed to turn intangible and climb out of it, unharmed and only a little mentally scarred from the incident. Not the way Izuku wanted to learn what the inside of a fridge looked like, though.

After that, he kept it pretty simple, keeping only to the microwaves. He could work on the strength when he wasn’t too shaky from accidentally dropping a fridge on his whole body. As the sun begins to rise, Izuku grabs his bottle of water, and sits in the clearing he’d made at the beach and starts to watch the waves.

Izuku doesn’t even register when he hiccups for the first time. Hiccups weren’t that common for him, unless he’d just had a good cry or gotten himself out of a panic attack, but it isn’t something he gets a lot.

Hiccup.

He groans mid-hiccup, twisting something in his chest, which makes him want to groan again. He hates the hiccups. They come on so suddenly, and it’s all Izuku can focus on now. After everything that’s happened over the last few weeks, having something normal and mundane happen to him is nice. But it’s still… off.

He hiccups, again. And a small puff of air, a small cloud, comes out of his mouth.

…What?

Izuku covers his mouth with his hands, stifling another hiccup. He watches the tiny cloud float up a bit into the air, before veering to the left, and then behind him into the maze of trash, and dissolving.

“What is even going on anymore,” Izuku says, exasperated. He hiccups again, and another cloud pops out of his mouth. They look like small, cirrocumulus clouds, the white and fluffy ones that fly high in the sky. It, too, veers to the left, making it deeper into the trash maze, where Izuku can’t see it dissolve.

It’s like… His hiccups are leading him to something. Someone? Somewhere? Mystery hiccups now, too?

Alright. Well, curiosity can’t kill the cat any more than it already has. Izuku pushes himself back up, leaving his bottle of water in the sand where he was sitting, and waits for another hiccup.

Hiccup. The small cloud is a lot faster now, but Izuku keeps up with it as it disappears into the junk surrounding him. Hiccup.

Not the best of abilities to develop suddenly. Hiccupping clouds? How does that even relate to ghost-stuff?

The hiccups lead him through the trash, and towards the street. Another hiccup takes him to the road where he usually leaves the larger pieces of trash by to get picked up. The fridge that crushed him earlier is still there, and Izuku notices the accidental dent he made in the sidewalk when he dropped it (but, to be fair, Izuku wasn’t expecting to be able to carry it, he had dragged all the other ones he’d dropped off before). His pause gets interrupted by another hiccup, and the cloud points him down an alleyway.

Izuku looks around, nervously, before poking around the corner.

There’s someone else in the alleyway. Which is strange, because Izuku doesn’t think he heard anybody before. Their back is turned to him, and all Izuku can see is a black slouch hat and a black-and-red trench coat, long enough to be hitting the ground.

What stands out the most, though, is that this person is glowing.

Despite his instincts telling him to leave it alone, Izuku’s too curious to not keep watching.

(What happened last time you got curious? You DIED, you idiot!)

The person steps back, where Izuku can see a small plate full of wet cat food.  They throw the can and lid of the can into the dumpster right next to where they stand, and a shy cat comes out of the shadows, poking at the food with its tongue.

“There you go. Good kitty…” There’s a dissonant echo to the person’s words. It doesn’t quite sound like Japanese, or any other language Izuku knows (which is marginally more English than his classmates, since his dad was American), but he also understands it perfectly. They turn around, and Izuku tries to not gasp in shock.

This person—person? —is completely gray, and has no face, whatsoever. The only thing they have are old glasses with red lenses, but even then, Izuku isn’t sure how they’re staying on this person’s face with no ears or nose. Everything is smooth, like a cheap morph suit costume, but unsettlingly too real.

“Oh.” And the person sees Izuku. He steps back, trying to pretend he wasn’t caught, but when he turns to run the other way, the person(?) is right there.

Izuku yelps, falling back.

“You did see me!” The person says. They don’t have any legs. They’re floating.

Something in Izuku’s core resonates, a bit, and he feels the hiccups ease. Does that mean…

“Must be one of your fancy human powers, being able to see and understand ghosts, yeah? Though, I’m pretty sure that power or not, everybody should be able to at least see a denizen…”

“D-Denizen?”

“Yeah, denizens are the official name, but we’re colloquially known as ghosts.” The ghost pauses, and Izuku imagines if they had a face, they’d be narrowing their eyes at Izuku. “You seem familiar, greenie.”

“I—I don’t—” Izuku feels his core rumble with confusion. Who-what-who--

Something else buzzes back, in a language Izuku knows deeply and intimately, despite never hearing before. CONFUSION-GHOST-BABY? The ghost looks Izuku up and down, before reeling back. “Oh, Ancients. You’re— No. No way.”

“W-What? What are you talking about? Who are you?”

The ghost looks like they’re about to say something, but they clear their throat. If they even have a throat? They make the sound as if they have a throat, at least, before their face starts morphing and changing, shifting into a mouth with teeth. Too many teeth, definitely about 40, all pointed and razor-sharp.

“Well. My name is Amorphous D. Shifter, but my friends and enemies call me Amorpho.” The ghost introduces. They stretch out a hand—and Izuku is hesitant, but he reaches out and returns the shake. They notice Izuku’s uneasiness, and their mouth disappears back into their slate-gray skin. “My apologies. I am still trying to learn the human customs, but I can never get the mouth right.”

KIND-NICE-HI BABY.

Izuku’s mouth is full of cotton, but he hesitates to share his name with this strange person—ghost. “W-Why are you calling me a baby?”

“Well, you’re a baby.”

“I’m—I’m fourteen.” Almost. Close enough to count.

“Well, in human years, you were. But in ghost time, you’ve been dead for, like, a month? Maybe a little more? My core is just recognizing you as a baby.” Amorpho explains, crossing their arms. “Though, you’re not exactly all the way dead, are you?”

“What? What are you talking—talking about?”

“I mean, we’re ghosts, but you’re definitely different..” Amorpho says, as if it explains anything. It doesn’t, really. “What’s your name, greenie?”

“M-Midoriya—”

“No, not your living name.” Amorpho sighs, pinching the bride of where their nose should be.. “Ancients, do you not know anything?”

Izuku shakes his head.

“I thought—well, maybe cause Billy’s parents…” Amorpho trails off, silently. Who’s Billy? An American? “Look, kid, did you happen to step into any sort of weird, mysterious, glowing portals, recently? Or get into something that gave you a bit of a zap?”

Izuku glances down at his right hand, before silently nodding.

“Great. Great. Of course, I have to be—” ANNOYED-SAD-UPSET, HOW? Amorpho sighs. “I hate to break it to you like this, greenie, but you kinda died.”

“I—I um, figured?”

“Okay, good, good. You’re smarter than him, at least… But you didn’t fully die.”

“U-um. What?”

It was something he was kinda aware of already—he died, but he didn’t fully die. Not as in, he was revived after temporarily dying. But something deeper. Something that changed his body irrevocably.

“It’s a rare thing, I’m not quite sure how it happens, but sometimes, if a human is exposed to enough ectoplasmic energy when they die, it brings them back, and turns them into… Well, we’ve called them halfas in the past, but I’m not sure if that’s entirely politically correct anymore? It’s been a while since I’ve been out of the ‘Zone…” Amorpho trails off, mumbling things Izuku doesn’t understand.

But Izuku doesn’t need to understand anything else. He focuses on the one word that the ghost said.

Halfas… Half-ghost, half-human? Ectoplasmic energy?

Something clicks in Izuku. The answers to all of his questions just stumbled into his path, after not being able to find anything for a month. Izuku thought he’d be all on his own, but not anymore—

He looks at Amorpho, the ghost floating in front of him. “P-Please, tell me more!"

Chapter Text

While Cores can take anywhere between a few months to a few human years to develop, the first thing that a ghost is aware of once they form is their Obsession.

Obsessions are, simply, what drives a ghost to continue existing. Ghosts are more than just ectoplasmically charged emotions, they are also parts of a human soul, determined to keep on going after an untimely death. The Obsession is the driver for that determination. A ghost unsatisfied with life, having missed a goal or dream they wished to achieve, may form an Obsession around that. The strength of the ghost is determined by their specific Obsession.

For example, if a ghost forms after being murdered by someone they trusted, their Obsession may be justice or the truth, where they will continue to haunt their killer until justice is served, and they will be able to move on into the Beyond. As long as their killer is free, they will exist, seeking justice or vengeance. Their strength is dependent on how badly they felt betrayed, or how badly they wish to see justice prevail.

On the other hand, a ghost who dies and leaves family behind and worries for their family may form their Obsession around their family. They might be weaker, but longer lasting, than most other ghosts, depending on whether they attach to a specific family member, or their lineage. Usually, these ghosts weaken into spirits overtime, if they do not eventually join their family in the Beyond.

Obsessions can be changed, if a ghost wills it enough, though typically this could end in destruction or serious harm to their core.

Halfas, however, are different from most denizens. As they have not fully died, they still have a connection to life and humanity, and thusly, the nature of change. Their Obsessions are more fluid than other ghosts due to this. While it isn’t common for ghosts to form more than one Obsession, Halfas are able to have upwards of two or three Obsessions at one time, and they are able to change and adapt and grow depending on the ghost’s will with very little damage to their core.

-- “All About Ghosts and Obsessions—A Ectoanthropological Study by Dr. Jasmine Fenton, PhD, 2007.”

✨👻✨

 “Oh, are you sure about this, Izuku?” His mom asks.

They both hover over Izuku's laptop. On the screen is the highest-rated online school in Japan. Totally remote; aside from exams. The classes could be taken at the student’s own pace, until the final exams scheduled at the end of each semester.

The program also offered a need-based scholarship program, which the Midoriya family definitely qualified for. In fact, Izuku had already put in all of their information, wrote the whole essay on why he would need it (leaving out his Quirkless status, which doesn’t even count for the program anyway), and they’d gotten an email saying that it’d be a full ride. A full ride for the highest-rated online high school in all of Japan.

Not too shabby, Izuku thinks to himself.

“I’m—I’m sure.”

“You won’t be getting the regular high school experience with this, you know.” His mom repeats.

“I know.” Izuku knows, one day, he’ll tell her everything—about the bullying, about the cruelty of his teachers and classmates—but it isn’t now. And really, if he can’t get into a hero school, what’s the point of trying to get into an actual high school, where his classmates could be just as cruel as before?

Plus, “regular high school” experiences are overrated, anyway.  

“You’ll be alone a lot, though. Not just we me working, Izuku. I don’t know if you’re going to make friends with this. Are you absolutely sure about this?”

“Yes, mom.” Izuku nods.

“Okay, well— we can do this, under one condition.”

Izuku pauses and turns to look up at his mom.

“I just want you to try and find some sort of after-school program, or club to join.” His mom says. It’s a little unfortunate that socialization, which is what Izuku is trying to avoid, is the condition to go to this school, but Izuku can see why she’s making him do this. Making him try, at least; Izuku doesn’t know what sort of clubs would be successful for someone like him, but, well.

He'd try. If this is the condition for a relatively peaceful education for once in his life, he’d try it for her.

“Sure. I’ll—I’ll, um. Try.”

✨👻✨

“Hey, greenie. There you are.”

Amorpho does spook Izuku just a little bit, even with Izuku’s warning hiccups, but it’s fine.

It’s two weeks into what Amorpho is quite literally calling “Ghost 101: What To Expect When You’ve Untimely Expired” (copyright pending, apparently). They’re calling it half-lecture, half-practical, which makes Izuku wonder if Amorpho had any experience with educational settings when they were alive, but Izuku can’t ask that information.

“Rule number one about ghosts—never, ever, ask how they died. Or who they were in life.”

Fair enough, Izuku supposes. He does get uncomfortable when strangers ask about the scars that travel up his arm. He’s just lucky that he runs cold enough now that a long-sleeved shirt in the summertime doesn’t bother him. But still, Izuku’s curious about Amorpho’s life. Maybe they’ll share with Izuku one day, voluntarily.

“Think of a name yet?”

“Rule number—er, five? Six? I’ve lost count—don’t use your living name with other ghosts.”

“N-Not yet.” Izuku replies, hunching over a bit. Greenie is just Amorpho’s nickname for him at the moment, since a ghost’s living name is, like, very important, or something? Izuku isn’t quite sure he grasps the concept all the way, but it’s like some pro heroes who still have secret identities. It keeps the life separate from the afterlife; whatever had happened in their life, has no hold over them now, but maybe some ghosts don’t want to hear it so they don’t have to relive their living memories?

It's strange for Izuku, since he’s still, y’know, half-alive, so maybe that’s why he doesn’t quite get it yet.

“You’ll think of something. It took me a few times before I settled on my name.” Amorpho says. “Anyway, I think it’s time for a more practical lesson today.”

He resists the urge to groan; Amorpho’s practical lessons are the worst. Maybe the ghost had a background in some sort of physical education or training—as funny as it would be to think of Amorpho has a gym teacher, it doesn’t feel right—because there was something sadistic about their practical lessons.

Apparently, the reason Izuku is having trouble accessing his full set of ghost powers—yeah, a full set, so there’s probably more than Izuku can keep track of—is because he isn’t in his “ghost form” yet, something that all halfas tend to have. His ectoplasm is leaking out through his human form because he’s not using his ghost form enough, and he’s off balance.

“Relax, relax, greenie. I’m not gonna try to fully kill you.”

Izuku glares at Amorpho.

“Fully. This time. Ancients, the fridge was unintentional.”

At least Izuku has experience with fridges landing and crushing his body, so he knew what the inside of one looked like already. That wasn’t a shock. It suddenly dropping on him from five feet above him? That was a shock.

“What’s the lesson, then?”

The ghost floats around Izuku, humming an unfamiliar tune, before pushing him down to his bottom. “Trying to shock you into your ghost form isn’t working, so we’re going to try a more… meditative, approach.”

Meditative? How so? Izuku wants to ask, but he knows interrupting Amorpho can cause both of them to go on unrelated tangents. He wonders if Amorpho was diagnosed with ADHD or something when they were alive, but kicks that thought aside.

“You can feel it, can’t you? Your core. It feels different for everybody, but even though you’re a halfa, it should still be there.” Amorpho curls their ghostly tail in, getting lower to the ground but still floating a few inches off the sand. “I think, if you focus on it enough, you should be able to get yourself to transform just by…. I dunno, pulling on it?”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about halfas.”

“Still really don’t. I’m basing this off my shapeshifting, greenie.” Amorpho says. “Now, close your eyes and focus, already!”

So Izuku does. He crosses his legs, closes his eyes, and focuses on the buzzing underneath his skin.

It’s an odd sensation, one that he’s come to accept and find comfort in over the last month since his accident. The hum of his core, deep in his chest, stretching out to his limbs whenever he goes invisible, or intangible, or the feeling of weightlessness whenever he floats even just an inch off the ground, it’s comforting, in the same way a hot mug of tea or a warm hug from his mom is.

As he’s focusing on it, he feels a cold shadow fall over him.

“Amorpho, if I open my eyes and see a fridge over me again, I swear—"

✨👻✨

With what extra money Izuku has from cleaning the beach, he finds himself wandering into multiple different stores one rainy afternoon. Despite the ambiance of a storm above him, he feels—rather content, surprisingly, given the last time he wandered around in public in a storm led to his death.

His death wasn’t all that bad, really; it was painful and it sucked, sure. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the feeling back in his right arm quite right. But it led him to something even more amazing—something he dreamed about for as long as he could remember.

Even if he couldn’t achieve it his dreams the typical way.

He wanders in and out of stores, just looking, keeping himself small and meekly to keep eyes off him. It isn’t a power of his in the way that his invisibility or intangibility are, it’s a carefully practiced skill for existing as a Quirkless person in public. Put headphones on, seem smaller than you appear, and the world will look past you. It was the better outcome of just existing in public for Izuku.

He wanders into a sports store. The shelves are packed high with different sports equipment. Cricket bats, baseball bats, hockey sticks, boxing gloves, ice skates—he isn’t quite sure what he wanders in here for, but once he spots it, he knows what he’s going to get.

It isn’t the best protection, but it’s something. Knee pads, elbow pads, wrist braces, and padded fingerless gloves.

The cashier gives him an odd look when he piles all of his to-be belongings on the counter, but doesn’t particularly care about what a small child is going to do with knee pads and elbow pads. Maybe skating. She checks him out anyway, popping her bubblegum loudly as she hands him the receipt and the bag.

He finds himself in a thrift store, next. Thrift stores are usually the best place for Izuku to get clothes, even outside of… Well, what he was doing, he was embarrassed to even admit it to himself, because it might be a stupid idea, but it’s something he feels like he has to do. Deep down in his core.

He picks up a dark gray hoodie and durable pants his size. The hoodie is a little over-sized, but when he tries it on with the dark pants in the changing room, and slips the knee and elbow braces over it, he sees himself in the mirror and he looks like a vigilante—

It’s just a thought. He throws the pads back into their bag, purchases his hoodie, and is on his way quickly.

This is a dumb idea, he thinks to himself, as he catches the train that’ll take him back to his apartment faster than walking. But it might be the only way I can be a hero, now.

✨👻✨

They’re sitting on the beach again. Izuku’s done with his ‘meditation’ for today—that’s the easiest thing to call it, since ‘trying to transform into my ghost form’ is a little bit of a mouthful in his head, after all. He’s in his human form (still, hasn’t gotten ahold of that yet), and Amorpho has taken the form of a young teenager this time, almost a mirror copy of Izuku with messy hair that covers one of his two bright, red eyes. It’s weird, seeing his own face reflected back at him, but Amorpho hasn’t had a human to practice on in a while, so it’s fine to copy Izuku as long as no shenanigans happen.

(Amorpho has promised none of that, which means something might end up happening.)

He’s staring at the waves as the sun comes up, enjoying a brief moment of tranquility, when a question pops into his mind. “Hey, um, Amorpho?”

“Yeah, greenie?”

“Do—uh. Um. How come there aren’t more ghosts around? Ghosts form after violent deaths, right? Shouldn’t they, y’know, be… everywhere?” Since he’d been half-killed, Amorpho is the only ghost that Izuku has met so far. But with how violent life has just become, especially in Musutafu, there should be more around, from victims of villains, or even villains killed ruthlessly by heroes.

Or people who perished in accidents, like his own father.

“Well, it’s… It’s a lot more complicated than just the violent death part.” Amorpho says. “I’m not too sure of it myself, but I think because the way Quirks work, it prevents a ghost from forming. …In a way? Honestly, I don’t know much about this stuff.”

He remembers that lesson well—Quirks come from ectoplasm. Ectoplasmic radiation, to be specific, that has slowly surrounded the world without their detection for centuries since the first ghost portal was fully opened in America so many years ago. Perhaps…

No, that’s a silly thought—but it might make sense. If Quirks come from ectoplasmic radiation, and all ghosts tend to have a core, is it possible that Quirks become their own core? A small one, maybe. Maybe only 1/100th of a core; but a core, nonetheless. And maybe, if a core—maybe that’s what the mystery behind Quirk factor is!—if a core is present, maybe that obstructs the formation of a ghost, and people who die violent deaths are unable to form into a ghost, due to the ectoplasmic radiation that they already have in them? But wouldn’t it make more sense if—

“Greenie, you’re mumbling, and I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“Oh. Um. Sorry!” Izuku says. “It’s just—you said that Quirks are mutations from ectoplasmic radiation, and maybe that messes with the formation of a ghost? Like, they can’t form a ghost if they already have a core? But their core is probably really tiny, maybe not even a core, maybe like, 1/100^th of a core—”

“Still losin’ me, greenie.” Amorpho responds, and then smirks, showing off too many teeth again. “Hey, maybe your name will Mumbler, given how much you do that.” The ghost laughs, but their laughter dissolves into a coughing fit.

A coughing fit?

“Amorpho? A-Are you okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine, greenie.” They shift from their human disguise to their normal form with a sigh. “Just… been out of the ‘Zone for too long, I think.”

Oh. Right.

Izuku feels himself shrink down, a bit. Amorpho isn’t going to be able to stay forever, even though Izuku’s grown quite fond of the shapeshifting ghost. Sure, the ghost gets their trickery out by trying to throw pieces of trash when Izuku isn’t looking (for “training”, of course), but Amorpho is one of the rare ghosts who doesn’t fight, which leaves them slowly running low on ectoplasm. Being near Izuku is helping them a bit, they’ve compared Izuku to a renewable energy source multiple times, but this can’t last forever.

Just a little longer.

“Anyway. It’s your last week of school, eh, greenie? I should probably let you go and get ready for it.” Amorpho pushes themselves back up into the air easily. “I’ll hang around a graveyard or cemetery for a bit to recharge, don’t worry about me.”

“I—If you say so, Amorpho.” Izuku responds. He stands up too, grabbing his water bottle and shoving it in the small gym bag he’s been bringing with him for training and beach-cleaning. The beach has been getting a lot cleaner over the last few weeks, between Izuku’s training and just general work. It isn’t done yet, but it’s getting there. He’ll be done by the end of the summer, for sure. “I’ll, um. I’ll see you later.”

“Later, greenie.”

Izuku waves goodbye, pulling his hood up to cover his head as he makes his way into the streets of Musutafu.

He makes his way down Jaku Street, pausing for only a moment before continuing on.

It’s only about three in the morning, but sunrise would probably be starting within the hour. As long as he got home before then, before his mom would notice him missing, he’d be fine. She’s a heavy sleeper, anyway, and why would she have reason to think Izuku wasn’t also asleep in his room, too?

The city is quiet.

… almost too quiet.

Izuku keeps his eyes and ears out for any sort of trouble. There’s no heroes to patrol usually, and the vigilantes that have done it before—well, they’ve unfortunately all been caught or stopped within the last few months. He heard Eraserhead was in town, which Izuku is kinda lucky he didn’t run into that hero, but also, disappointed at the same time, because it’s Eraserhead! Probably the coolest of Underground heroes! What hero nerd wouldn’t want to meet the Eraserhead!

But he hasn’t been spotted for a while, so this part of Musutafu city runs a little… wild, with crime, sometimes.

He’s halfway down the main street he takes to get home when he hears it. A cry.

For help.

Without even thinking, Izuku follows it to a street alley corner, a few buildings down from the largest bar in Musutafu. He slowly creeps to the corner of the building, and turns his head down the alleyway.

He feels everything inside him run ice cold.

There’s a woman—late twenties, early thirties, maybe?—in a tie top and a short skirt and heels. She’s obviously a little inebriated, but not too drunk to not process the world around her. No sign of a visible Quirk, so it might be something small or passive, like a majority of the population. Her mascara is smudged. She’s terrified, and Izuku—he feels the fear from her, even ten feet away.

Standing in front of her, blocking her entrance, is a person Izuku never thought he’d see again.

It felt like months ago, when it had happened.

“Take a swan dive off the roof, and pray you’re born with a Quirk in the next life!”

He remembers All Might standing in front of him, with a villain made of sludge securely in an emptied liter bottle of soda.

“I’m afraid it’s not realistic, to be a hero without a Quirk.”

Izuku remembers the eyes glaring back at him as All Might vaulted into the sky again, grip held tightly on the bottle.

He remembers the feeling of the sludge surrounding him, compressing on his chest, choking him. Killing him, slowly.

“You’ll be a perfect new skin suit!”

Izuku doesn’t even think—he charges into the alleyway without a second thought, feeling his core hum loudly in his chest. It’s nearly deafening, but he doesn’t have time to think about it, as he focuses on the task at hand. Save her, save her, save her.

“Hey!” Izuku yells, and he chucks his small gym bag towards the sludge villain. “Leave her alone!”

Something shifts. Izuku doesn’t focus on what, though. There’s a task at hand. Save her, save her, save her!

(Shinya Hedero, if he remembers correctly, after seeing the arrest record pop up online. Quirk; Sludge Body. A mutant-type Quirk that makes his entire body out of sludge, but if he gets enough of his gunk in somebody, he can control them like a puppet. He doesn’t need to kill his host, but Shinya doesn’t seem too bothered if it does happen.)

Shinya’s eyes turn around to face him, but it’s a mistake. Izuku can hear his bag—which only really had his bottle of water in it, a metal water bottle practically indestructible—thunk against one of the eyes, and Shinya growls in pain.

“What the hell—who the hell are you?” Shinya asks, recoiling back.

…He doesn’t recognize me? Izuku wonders. He knows he isn’t the most memorable, but maybe he got overshadowed by All Might? Izuku doesn’t focus on that right now, and instead, brings his fists up in what he’d assume is a defensive position, but he can’t exactly say is a good one.

And then he notices something.

His fists—there’s a faint glow around them, and his skin is a little paler than before. He feels his core buzz loudly in his chest, and if he focuses, he can still hear the usual ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump of his own heart, but it feels millions of miles way. He’s—he’s a ghost.

Izuku grins to himself, and then looks back at Shinya. “I’m the one who’s going to stop you.”

Shinya looks at Izuku and laughs. “Whatever, glow-boy. What are you going to do, blind me to death?”

Not exactly. He remembers how viscous and gross the mutant-type quirk felt when it was on his skin. It was thick and muddy, and he isn’t quite sure how All Might caught him, because Izuku was a little knocked out at the time, but not all of the sludge is necessary for Shinya’s survival. There’s not a lot of options in the alleyway. His bag is behind the poor woman who’s gotten wrapped up in this, and he probably won’t be able to get it back any time soon with the sludge villain in the way.

Shinya charges at Izuku, and he throws any plan he was trying to concoct in his brain out of the way. Think on the fly. He has a mutant-type quirk, doesn’t have a visible brain. Obviously don’t wanna kill him, but he probably can’t be hurt in the normal ways. What can I do? The intangibility comes instinctually, Izuku feels the buzz roar over his skin, and Shinya passes easily through Izuku, nearly into the road.

“Oh, you’ve got one of those Quirks, huh?” Shinya growls, collecting himself so that he’s taller. “Whatever, I don’t need you!” He lunges, trying to go past Izuku towards the woman.

Izuku jumps back towards the woman, and takes the hit directly for her. She screeches as he does, and

“Fine! I’ll just take you for myself! A Quirk like yours will make my life a lot easier!”

It’s an uncomfortable feeling, being surrounded by the sludge again. Trying to force his way into Izuku, trying to take control, and he feels it in him, and it feels like, well, this is where Izuku fully dies, isn’t it?

—Wait a second.

Izuku’s a ghost. He can feel his core hum loudly within him. He doesn’t… Have lungs. He doesn’t need to breathe.

And suddenly, the pressure feels lighter on him. He’s struggling against the force of the sludge, and he can look up and see the eyes of Shinya looking down on him with malicious glee, noticing Izuku’s laugh of struggle and laughing.

“There, there—you’ll be a perfect new skin suit!”

No, thanks! Izuku thinks, and turns his arms intangible to break through the gunk, before grabbing Shinya’s eyeballs.

The sludge villain screams. I was right, his weakness! Shinya’s body is completely made of sludge, but there’s only one solid point in his entire body—his eyeballs, and maybe a few teeth floating here and there, but the eyes must have mutated with his quirk to act as both vision and control of the body, because Izuku definitely can’t feel for an actual brain somewhere in the gunk. It would explain their size, too, and Izuku turns intangible to get out of the gunk, keeping ahold of the eyes (which, also turn intangible in his grasp, interesting, can he turn other objects and other people intangible, too?).

“Ma’am, could you get me my bag, please?”

The woman, staring at Izuku with her mouth partially agape, snaps back into reality and nods, turning around and grabbing Izuku’s bag. He really liked his water bottle, but he asks the woman to dump it, and he shoves Shinya’s eyeballs into it and screws it tightly.

“Hey! C’mon! It’s so dark in here!”

His protests go unnoticed.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

“I’m—I’m fine, but are you okay? You shouldn’t be out this late, you know, young man.”

Ah. Getting a lecture from the woman she saved. Izuku shrinks under her voice for a second.

“…Well, thank you, anyway. Do you have a name, kid?”

“U-Um, please take care of yourself on your way home, ma’am!” Izuku swings his bag around his shoulder, before speeding off into the night, completely forgetting that he could fly, as a ghost.

✨👻✨

“H-hey, um, sir?”

“What is it, officer?”

“There’s a water bottle left here, on the front steps. It’s got a sticky note on it.”

“What, did someone leave their bottle behind?”

“N-no, sir. Um. It says that Shinya Hedero is inside it?”

“W-What!?”

Chapter Text

ONE MONTH LATER…

“Oh, Izuku, would you look at this!” His mom is holding up a copy of the Musutafu Times. The front page has quite a few different articles, but the headline catches his attention.

DAGOBAH BEACH CLEANED

Izuku tries his best to hide his smirk, but he still can’t help but smile. Once he finally mastered his ghostly transformation—which took a few weeks—the cleaning got a lot faster and easier. There are still a few piles of larger trash on the side of the street, last Izuku checked, but it seemed like the city decided it was more beneficial to put up “NO LITTERING” signs all over the place.

“That’s amazing, mom!”

“It doesn’t look like anybody’s claimed the cleaning yet.” Midoriya Inko sighs, with a small smile. “Oh, Hisashi, if only you could see it now…” She trails off with a mumble.

Izuku wonders what his father would think about all of it. Unfortunately, his theory of people with Quirks is most likely true, and he won’t be seeing his father’s ghost anytime soon. But it was a nice thought, at least.

He gets a glance at the smaller headlines on the page. 

ALL MIGHT ON RETIREMENT RUMORS: "ABSOLUTELY ABSURD".

HAWKS NO. 1 IN POPULARITY POLL, BEATS ALL MIGHT FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER. The second one makes his ego feel a little higher.

Ha, take that, All Might.

“Oh, dear, look at the time, Izuku. I need to be getting to bed. You should, too, mister. Summer break doesn’t mean you can stay up all night, you know!”

“O-Okay, mom. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, Izuku. See you in the morning.”

Izuku nods, before going to his room and shutting the door closed behind him. He, of course, isn’t going to be going to bed that night. It’s one of his awake nights, and this time, he’s going to do it. He’s going to go out as a vigilante, for the first, official time.

The incident with Shinya doesn’t count, since it was so accidental. But this time, he’s got a purpose. He turns off his lights, pretends to go to sleep and waits until he’s certain his mom is asleep, and tugs on the feelings deep in his chest.

His transformation into a ghost is—surprisingly—simple. It’s a small burst of light, a small flash, a static feeling in his mouth, and bam, he’s a ghost. He waits an extra minute after he transforms, just to make sure the flash didn’t alert his mom to anything, but it doesn’t, which means he can get a glance at himself in the mirror.

Izuku’s ghost form is the strange reflection he’d been seeing in his dreams. The snow-white hair, the neon, cyan-colored eyes, the deathly pale skin. He was worried he would be stuck in the same clothes he died in, but he was able to change out of them, and put on the clothes he picked out for his vigilantism, and the protective pads, and they actually stayed in his ghost form. He tested it a few times, transforming back and forth when his mom was at work, and they stayed, which was great. He had a built-in vigilante costume, and everything!

The old clothes dissolved into ectoplasm the moment he changed back into a human, and he’s glad he left them on the bathroom floor when he tried that, or that would’ve bleached the carpet on his floor. Easier to clean ectoplasm, which is a vibrant, toxic green, off tile, than off carpet.

Izuku cracks open the window in his bedroom, and then pauses. Just because he’s a ghost, and nearly unrecognizable with his color swap, doesn’t mean he should just have his face fully out. He grabs one of the extra facemasks, stored in his desk drawer, and puts it on. Easy protection.

And so, Izuku’s first night as a vigilante begins.

✨👻✨

Of course, Izuku’s first time out as a vigilante, and he manages to get arrested.

It isn’t the best start to what might be his future “career”. Quite frankly, Izuku isn’t quite sure how far this vigilante stint will go, maybe he could win the public over enough with his adorable personality and they’d convince the hero commission to give him a license, what a field day that would be. But all he knows is what burns deeply in his core—he needs to be a hero. It’s one of his obsessions, or at least, it probably is. Doing this makes his core feel fuzzy and right, so it’s gotta be, right?

Yet he doesn’t know what he should have expected, going out on the street, this late at night, with only a month-ish of training with his powers. He’s in his ghost form—he’s been building up to staying in it for at least two hours, which is his limit at the moment, so it wasn’t even meant to be a full-fledged patrol, it was a quick pop out, go down the street, go home, and sleep.

But there was a mugging, and Izuku couldn’t ignore it, but someone already called the police, and by the time he managed to take out the mugger, the police were there with their guns trained on him and he didn’t know what else to do, so he let them cuff him, too, even though he’s just a kind Samaritan who wanted to help, and threw him in the back of one of the patrol cars.

They didn’t go for his mask or anything, at least; these officers weren’t all that good at their job. Though, hopefully nobody would really recognize Izuku’s face in his ghost form, and any pictures or identifying looks they got would lead nowhere in the investigation.

The cuffs were quirk suppressing ones, of course. Par for the course for any sort of police officer, especially in Musutafu. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but now that he’s sitting in the back of the patrol car with the two officers—he didn’t get their names, so they’ll just be Officer One and Two—in the front seat, it doesn’t feel very suppressing.

It just feels… tight. Like he’s wrapped in a tight hug from his mom, or something. He can still feel his core humming under his skin, and he wonders…

“—good job tonight, huh?” Two asks, with a grin. They’ve got beetle-like eyes and antenna; some sort of bug mutant-type, but not unsettling enough to be considered monstrous. More on the cutesey side. Probably how they got their job in the police department. Not mutant enough to be freaky, but mutant enough to fill a diversity quota.

“Yeah, got a few speeding tickets, and caught a nobody vigilante before they could even start. I think we can call that a night!” One doesn’t have a visible quirk characteristic or any sort of genetic mutation, so Izuku supposes they might be an emitter or transformation-type quirk, or something mental, too. Weak enough that he wouldn’t try and be a hero, but strong enough that he could become an officer, something to that extent.

Izuku shifts in the backseat quietly. He’s not buckled in, which could probably count as child endangerment if he wanted it to, but his arms are sore from the way they’re twisted behind his back.

“Hey, did you think of a name, before you got out there, man?” Two asks, craning their neck back to look at Izuku. “I think Glowboy has a ring to it!”

“Nah, he’s more of a Sparkle-man, I think.” One says, thankfully, keeping his eyes on the road as they start to drive away from the scene, and probably towards the Musutafu Precinct, where Izuku will be processed as a vigilante and charged for illegal usage of quirk.

Two laughs. “Oh, Sparkle-man! Like that one comic hero, except sparkles instead of spiders.”

Izuku doesn’t respond, still focused on the buzz of his core under his skin. He knows that he’s glowing, but out of curiosity, he glances down at his legs. He focuses on the tingling of his core, willing them to disappear, disappear, and—his left one does, with a bit more effort than normal.

Oh.

Oh!

That’s… interesting.

From what he remembers from one of Amorpho’s lectures, all quirks come from ectoplasmic radiation over the years, since the first Ghost Portal was opened in America. Izuku’s own theory of Quirks—of them being roughly about 1/100^th of a typical ghost core—meant that anything Quirk-suppressing would probably be unknowingly ectoplasmic-based, but it might not have enough power to properly affect Izuku. It would need maybe a hundred times more power to actually get Izuku.

And this is exactly the case.

There’s still a delay in his powers, he should be careful to not get caught again after this, but there’s still an escape for him.

He allows his leg to turn visible again, and focuses on his hands and wrists, willing them intangible. It takes almost half a minute for them to fully phase out of the cuffs, but once they’re off, he feels his core surge, and his chest lightens, and he tries his best to hide his smirk. He’s still wearing his face mask, but he isn’t sure the glee wouldn’t be visible with his glow turning a little brighter, or within his eyes, which were visible. He catches the cuffs in his hands before they jingle onto the seat behind his back, and he slowly sets them down in the back of the patrol car.

They—the police can’t do anything with his powers.

Maybe no hero can. Izuku doesn’t have a Quirk Factor, technically—he might have hundreds of them, bundled up into his core. Anything that affects the Quirk Factor would need to be hundreds of times stronger.

That’s horrifying.

They can’t do anything to his core unless they bring out things that are maybe a hundred times stronger than they already have. God—if Izuku was too scorned by the failure of hero society and became a villain, he’d be unstoppable. Thankfully, he inherited the Midoriya Stubbornness™ from his dad that would make giving up nearly impossible. Well, there’s no use sitting in the patrol car anymore. He’s not being held, he can just… Leave, now.

“Damn, the stupid hero fight this morning took out our usual route. Hey, Sparkle-man, are you comfortable back there?” One asks, glancing in the rearview mirror. His eyes widen with shock, though, and he curses, and the car swerves wildly to the right, and Two turns around and also says some very, very naughty words for a fourteen-year-old to be hearing, because as far as they know, Izuku is just… gone.

He’d turned invisible for a second because he wanted to revel in their reaction before he phases out of the police car, landing roughly on the ground with a thud. The car skids to a chaotic stop, and both of the officers hop out and immediately start yelling for him, One reaching for a radio, but by the time they’re looking for him, Izuku’s long gone.

He turns visible once he’s sure out of their sight and lost them. Izuku can’t help but laugh, leaning against the cold stone of the building behind him. Of course, out of all the people to become a halfa like this, it’s him—useless Izuku, useless Deku, a Quirkless embodiment of a punching bag for every adult and peer in his life, suddenly more powerful than anyone could fathom.

It's terrifying, too.

He’s got the equivalent of at least four powerful Quirks in his body (his transformation, his flight, intangibility, invisibility), and maybe numerous small, passive Quirks, and there’s nothing anyone could do to stop him without inventing the World’s Strongest Quirk Suppressants.

Oh—if Izuku ever became a villain, the world would be so screwed.

✨👻✨

“You’re leaving? Now?” Izuku knows that this would have happened eventually, one way or the other; part of him knows that nothing good can stay, especially in his half-life, but he wasn’t expecting Amorpho to be ready to leave so soon. Amorpho would have to go back to the Ghost Zone, the Infinite Realms, eventually. There isn’t enough ambient ectoplasm to fuel their existence. “B-But what about teaching me everything? I, I still don’t know what my obsession is, or—or my core, either—"

Izuku just didn’t expect it to be so… soon. It felt like they’d hardly helped Izuku out. It felt like they’d just met. The mountains of trash no longer piled around them. Any free time Izuku had, was spent at Dagobah, clearing it to his best of his abilities, only leaving enough to hide any of his own power training from passerby's, but it isn't like there were many at all, especially at night, when he met up with Amorpho.

(In fact, it's kinda surprising to Izuku that nobody ever got any pics of him cleaning up Dagobah beach, but he's fine with the credit anonymously. He doesn't need the credit.)

“Sorry, greenie.” Amorpho says. They’re not as solid as they have been for the last few days. “I’ve pushed it a little too much, and I’d really not like to start destabilizing in front of you. I’ll be catching a flight back to America in the morning.”

Catching a flight back to America, they say, casually, as if it’s a business trip. Izuku nods, though he can’t help but feel somber about the whole thing. It feels like he’s losing a friend, his first good friend he’s had for a long time.

He doesn’t know if Amorpho would consider themselves his friend, but Izuku found the other ghost’s existence, advice, and knowledge helpful and comforting over the last few weeks.

“And, anyway, your obsession is something you gotta figure out on your own, I’m afraid. But you can do it. I believe in you, greenie.”

“Um. T-Thanks for believing in me.” I guess. It’s nice to have someone else believe in me other than my mom, sometimes.  

Amorpho chuckles, before leaning forward and ruffling Izuku’s hair. Izuku’s in his ghost form, trying to keep it for the two hours straight is exhausting, but he needs to build up his stamina in this form if he does become a vigilante. “Y’know, you look just like Billy when he was younger. Except your eyes are a little different.”

“Billy?”

“Yeah, good ol’ Invis-o-bill.” Amorpho explains. “He was the halfa I knew. We go way back.”

“Oh. I-is he, um?”

“Dead? Well, fully now, yeah. He’s got a whole story to him. I’m sure you’ll hear it eventually.” Amorpho adds with a shrug. “You figure out a name yet, greenie?”

Since he’s a halfa, he doesn’t immediately form with a name in his mind. He doesn’t know what he would call himself in his ghost form—perhaps some hero name? But all of his hero names before had been All Might inspired, and Izuku hadn’t even thought of that pro hero in such a long time.

As much as Izuku would love to be able to flip the hero off and become the first Quirkless hero, well; clearly fate had other plans for him. He’s happy with the outcome, happy he finally has powers (and maybe he’ll register one of his powers as a Quirk, so he can at least escape the widespread Quirkless discrimination, but it’ll have to be a smaller, more common one so he doesn’t get connected to his vigilante persona); but it would’ve been more satisfying to show everyone that a Quirkless person is just as good as a Quirked person.

He wouldn’t give up on that fight, though. He wouldn’t forget the experiences that shaped him to become the human (and half-ghost) that he is.

“Well, don’t get yourself stuck with Invis-o-bill, or something equally as stupid. You wouldn’t live it down for the rest of your afterlife.”

“I’ll—I’ll try not to.” Izuku stutters out with a small laugh. “I’ll miss you, Amorpho. T-Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t mention it, greenie.” Amorpho says. Though they don’t have a mouth, Izuku can still pick up on their own core for a bit—PRIDE-GLAD-HAPPY-PROUD.

Izuku feels his own core resonate, too. HAPPY-SAD-GREATFUL-THANK YOU.

Amorpho sighs, before floating up straighter. “Well, I better get going. Gotta get a flight to hitchhike to. If you’re ever in the Zone, give me a call, yeah? I’ll show you around.”

Izuku isn’t quite sure how he’d ever get to the Infinite Realms, but he nods, anyway, and forces a smile out, despite the mess of feelings churning in his chest. “That’d be great.”

“See you on the flip side, greenie!”

Chapter Text

Multiple reports are emerging about a mysterious new vigilante roaming the streets of Musutafu. This vigilante, dubbed the Musutafu Phantom, due to his ghost-like abilities, has made quite a name for himself over the last few weeks, stopping muggings and thefts before heroes can get involved. Despite efforts from the police department, no clues about who they are, or what their Quirk may be, have been discovered.

Officer Sasuke from the Musutafu Police Force stated, "We are actively investigating to reveal their identity and bring them to justice. Vigilantism is prohibited in our country for a reason. To the individual behind these actions, if you are reading this, consider leaving heroics to the professionals.”

A local resident, Otani Shizuka, claims that her daughter had been the first victim that Phantom had saved. “She told me he wasn’t all that much, just a young man who saved her from a mugging, with very unusual abilities. But we’re all very thankful my daughter came home safe that night. These parts of Musutafu are so under-patrolled by heroes, both day and night. It’s nice to finally feel like somebody is looking out for us.”

Any reports of Phantom on the streets should be turned into the Musutafu Police Department, 555-2368.

~ SHINSOU JUN, The Musutafu Times

✨👻✨

“So, they’re sending pros after me now, huh?” The Musutafu Phantom asks, without even turning around. He’s sitting on the edge of a building, his legs hanging off the side, and if Shouta didn’t know that the vigilante could phase through things, he’d be using his capture weapon immediately and grabbing the vigilante before he could even think about getting away.

Phantom is a mystery to everybody, even the press, who have barely gotten a few looks at him.

For someone with such a visibly identifiable quirk—glowing, white hair, bright cyan eyes, etc.—they haven’t found anyone matching that appearance in any database. There’s a possibility that he might know somebody with a quirk that changes appearances, but they’ve scrubbed the Quirk Registry in Japan and the only person with a quirk like that is an elderly lady in rural Hokkaido who had no connection to Musutafu whatsoever, so unless this guy travels hours to do patrols at night, there’s no way he knows that lady.

An unregistered local quirk is possible, too, but the whole theory doesn’t seem that likely.

So, they’re at square one with Phantom, and haven’t been able to move much further than that. Infuriating for everybody, but Shouta can’t lie and say he’s not intrigued by the vigilante.

Especially given how small he is. He’s tiny, in comparison to the other vigilantes Shouta has encountered. Which could mean many things, but given Phantom’s small size and higher voice, they might be dealing with a teen vigilante, a whole different headache on its own.

Tsukauchi asked Shouta to help out as a favor, knowing that he’s going to be staying in the area for a bit longer as U.A. classes are set to begin, and they’re hoping that his quirk might work on the vigilante, due to how… Slippery, he is.

He got out of quirk-suppressant cuffs.

While it might not always be the hardest thing to imagine, as Shouta’s encountered a few villains who can and will just break their thumbs or are double-jointed enough to slip out of them on their own. Though, it is unusual how easily Phantom can escape.

“It’ll be easier if you come with me.” Shouta says. From what they’ve observed, Phantom has three different abilities, or some strange aspects of his quirk. Invisibility, intangibility, and floating, though Shouta wouldn’t be surprised if the boy could straight-up fly, given how he seems to disappear so quickly, and end up on other sides of the city so quickly. Flying will definitely cut down on foot traffic; even jumping from building to building was taxing and not always the fastest option.

The three aspects were theorized to be some sort of atomic manipulation—as in, Phantom could manipulate the literal atoms of his own body—but that seems a little wild, even for Shouta.

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” Phantom turns his head around, and his eyes widen. The soft glow around his body spikes for a second. “Oh my god, wait, are you Eraserhead?!”

What.

The hell.

Shouta didn’t exactly know how to respond to that; sure, villains tended to know his name, mostly out of notoriety, but it wasn’t a commonplace name. Underground heroes didn’t have popularity polls, or any sort of numeric system, like the daytime heroes did. That would defeat the point of going underground, after all. 

“How do you know that name—"

Phantom interrupts him before he can even finish that question, jumping up from his sitting position and into the air, and just—staying there. Floating. His legs seem to blur together at one point. “You are Eraserhead! Oh, this is amazing! They sent you because they thought they thought you could cancel my ‘quirk’, right?” Phantom laughs, though it’s a bit muffled through his face mask.

Shouta narrows his eyes. “Enough playing, Phantom. You can either come in willingly, or I’ll have to force you.”

“Well, good luck with that, Eraserhead! Oh, can I just call you Eraser? Eraser-san?” Phantom asks, the threat completely bouncing off him like water on a duck.

Shouta ignores Phantom’s quips and activates his quirk. He’s expecting Phantom to fall from his floating position onto the ground, where he can easily use his capture weapon on the vigilante, but—

Nothing happens.

He ignores the urge to blink, but after a second, he has to, anyway.

It’s—it’s—what.

How.

This shouldn’t be… possible?

There is a possibility that Phantom’s quirk is a mutant-type after all, which would explain the glowing, and the deathly pale skin color, but he tries again, and still, nothing happens. But Erasure should have done something to Phantom, even if it was a mutant-type quirk. Something should have—stopped, or Phantom should have flinched, or something, but nothing happens.

Phantom blinks at him. His eyes are almost like a cat’s eyes; the pupils aren’t round like a human’s, they’re a little sharp and pointy. “Your quirk didn’t work on me, did it?” He giggles, as if it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all day. “Y’know, I keep trying to tell people, I don’t have a quirk, but nobody ever listens.” Phantom shrugs, flipping in the air nonchalantly. “Anyway, I’m sure I’ll see you again sometime, Eraser-san, but I’ve gotta go! Ghost-boy, out!”

Phantom blinks out of existence before Shouta’s very eyes. He stands there for a second, looking around, half-expecting Phantom to appear again, and maybe taunt him more, but he doesn’t. Phantom had his fun, and disappeared, just like he’s done to every other hero and police officer who tried to catch him. He might be—no, that shouldn’t be possible. Every person had their limit. They would just need to find Phantom’s limit. One night he’ll mess up, go too far, and hurt himself, and as much as Shouta hates to think it, he hopes it’s soon, because if Phantom is as young as he seems to be…

No, he doesn’t want to think about what might happen.

Fine. He’ll do things the slow way.

There’s no denying that Phantom is a useful vigilante, especially in a part of Musutafu that doesn’t get patrolled by heroes as often. Shouta tries to help out where he can during the school year, when he’s in the city around U.A., but usually his patrols lined up closer to the school, so he could get in and out of his staff apartment easier.

But maybe this year he’ll have to hang out on this side of the city. Keep an eye on Phantom. If he really is a kid, then, well, Shouta should try and teach him to not get himself killed, at least. Maybe he could get Phantom to come willingly with him, maybe he could even get Phantom into U.A., or help him get a proper hero license through a rehabilitation program. He’s done it before with other vigilantes. It wouldn’t be anything new to Shouta.

He keeps an eye out still, before sighing, and dropping down onto the fire escape with a soft thunk. Not loud enough to wake anybody up nearby sleeping, though there shouldn’t be any apartments or residential homes nearby him in this part of the city.

One thing sticks in Shouta’s brain.

I don’t have a quirk, Phantom said.

He obviously does. Quirkless people can’t walk through walls, disappear, and fly.

What kind of quirk, though, was the question. If they could figure that out, they could figure out how to trap him easier.

Once down on the ground, making sure nothing else was going around him, Shouta pulls out his phone and dials up Tsukauchi.

“My quirk doesn’t work on him.” Shouta says, without a greeting.

“Damn it… I was afraid of that.” Tsukauchi sighs on the other end. “Well, thanks for the hand, Eraserhead. I guess we’ll just need to figure something else out.”

“Keep me on the case.” Shouta clarifies, though there’s a strange feeling that someone is watching him from behind. He turns, and sees nothing but darkness. Though, his gut is telling him, maybe Phantom’s still out there, and didn’t leave, so he starts walking out on the sidewalk and away from the alleyway. Walking out of it gets rid of the creepy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Keep me on the case, and I’ll see if I can get him in the long way.”

“Er—Aizawa, thank you for that offer. I don’t know if I could ask you to do that, though.”

“I have an apartment at U.A. during the school year, so I will be in the city. It’s just a matter of changing the patrol route to keep up with him.” Shouta sighs. “He’s a kid.”

“What do you mean, a kid? Like, twenties or—or younger?”

“Younger. He can’t be any younger than a first-year I deal with.”

“Well, shit. That makes everything more complicated.” Tsukauchi audibly shudders on the other end of the line. Shouta glances both ways before crossing the street in front of him. “…I really hope his quirk is just something that gives him ghost powers. I’d hate to think…”

Shouta tries to not chuckle as he responds. “Tsukauchi, ghosts don’t exist.”

✨👻✨

Shinsou Hitoshi is still in awe that he’s a U.A. student.

Of course, the help Hitoshi got from Aizawa-sensei—who is now his homeroom teacher, what gives, not even a heads up on that?—is what helped push him through the Entrance Exam. If he hadn’t been strength-training for those months beforehand, there’s no way that he would have been able to pass it as well as he did. He didn’t do the best, but he was roughly in the middle of the pack.

The surprise of rescue points is what saved his ass the most in the end. He hadn’t even thought much about the aid he’d been giving to the other students, trying to take the test with him. His competitors, with the stronger, flashier Quirks-- like the boy who could make explosions or the girl with the earphone jacks on her earlobes—were going beat him, no matter what, in a fight against robots. Hitoshi didn’t even use his Quirk once during the test.

But he still got in. On his strength alone (by prying metal pieces from the robots and using them to make a makeshift weapon to beat other robots into pieces) and by his refusal to leave anyone behind, even if they were supposed to be against him.

Their first day is… Well, it’s something.

“A Quirk apprehension test?” One of the girls, with her brown hair cut in a bob, asks next to him.

Aizawa-sensei asked (well, more like demanded) everyone in Class 1-A to meet him at one of the fields, changed into their gym clothes, instead of heading to their orientation in the main auditorium. Hitoshi knows that U.A. is going to be a different experience form his junior high days, but he isn’t quite sure what to expect.

“Bakugou Katsuki.” Aizawa-sensei grunts, turning to the explosive blond boy. “How far was your ball throw in junior high?”

“Sixty-seven meters.” Bakugou says.

“Now. Try it with your Quirk.”

With his Quirk? Bakugou steps up without fear, taking the ball from Aizawa-sense and stepping into the circle by the ball pitch. The only rule is: don’t step out of the circle. Bakugou glances down at the ball before smirking, a look that send a shiver down Hitoshi’s spine, before he wound back up and threw the ball with a loud explosion, yelling, “DIE!”

…Die?

Aizawa-sensei watches the ball fly off, before it lands quite a distance away. He turns back to the class, and shows from the screen of his tablet—750 meters. The students around Hitoshi gasp, and break out into a mixture of applause and chatter.

“750 meters? Seriously?”

“Did anyone notice he yelled ‘die’, or was that just me?”

“We can use our Quirks as much as we want? This will be fun!”

“Fun?” Aizawa-sensei’s voice breaks through the chatter, cold as ice. It’s not quite the same voice Hitoshi could ever imagine hearing, but knowing the pro-hero as Eraserhead, it sounds like the voice he would probably use on villains. “You have three years to learn how to be a hero here. Hero work is not fun. Hero work can and will kill you, if you’re not careful. It can be quick and painless if you’re lucky, but if you’re not, it will be a slow and painful death.”

The girl who said it would be fun—the girl with horns and pink skin—shrinks back to hide behind Hitoshi.

“There will be eight tests today. Whoever ends up in last place will be expelled.”

Expelled? Hitoshi knows that Aizawa-sensei has tough standards on hero work. When the man would take him training, he would be judgmental on every wrong movement, every wrong position, you’re leaning too far to your left. Tuck your arms in more. Look up when you move. Don’t think, act, but this doesn’t feel like the same teacher he knows. Or maybe it is the same teacher he knows, and Hitoshi is just used to the high standards on everything around him?

He knows heroism is no laughing matter. Not just because Hitoshi has experienced heroism before—in fact, he’s experienced quite the opposite. Brainwashing isn’t all that heroic of a Quirk, even though it very well could be, if used properly. But people don’t think about Quirks that way, the way that sees them as tools, and not moral judgements of character or manifestations of one’s true self.

He hopes U.A. will be different with stuff about that.

The tests are all physical; eight tests that will determine the strength, speed, and stamina of their bodies, using their Quirks to their full strength, no holding back. Use their Quirk. No holding back.

Hopefully this place will be better with bullies than Hitoshi’s old school.

✨👻✨

“He’s calling himself what now?”

“It was not something he chose, my friend. It’s just a name that was assigned to him, but I do believe he’s living up to Phantom very well, don’t you think?”

…

“Equinox, are you crying?”

“U-Uh, no! You’re—you’re the one crying, Clockwork!”

"...Yes. Of course, I am the one crying..."

✨👻✨

And so, things begin to settle as such for Izuku.

Once the summer ends, and Dagobah beach is finally clean, Izuku finds himself with even more free-time to dedicate to vigilantism. He doesn’t plan on taking on any serious cases or crimes. He just needs to help, to be a hero—it’s his obsession, after all. It’s only natura for him.

High school begins, and for once in Izuku’s life, he’s excited for classes to start. All online, covered by tuition, to be taken at his own rate.

For once—for once, things are going great.

(Of course, these things aren’t going to last forever.

Just like the poet Robert Frost says,

So dawn goes down to day,

Nothing gold can stay.)

Chapter Text

Katsuki isn’t quite sure how to explain this feeling.

Of course, there’s the rage, underneath everything. There has always been that rage, hot and bubbling, underneath his skin. Maybe it was his Quirk, that gave him such an explosive personality; maybe it was his youth being unchecked by every other adult in his life because of his powerful Quirk. Maybe it was a mix of the two, or maybe, he just had anger issues for some random other goddamned reason. Whatever the reason for it, the rage is always there.

But on top of the white-hot boiling rage is… Confusion, is the best way he can put it.

It starts at U.A. Fuckin’ U.A. The best hero school in the country, nay, perhaps the best in the world, and Katsuki is the first one from shitty Aldera to get in. Not even Deku tried, which is good; the runt might’ve grown a spine in the last few weeks of their junior high year, but that doesn’t make him any less useful than before.

Katsuki knew he should’ve expected strong students. It’s U.A.; again, the best school for heroism, like, maybe ever. They only accept the best of the best. And his class is full of people with, admittedly, powerful Quirks. There’s Shitty Hair and his Hardening Quirk, Rich Girl and her creating Quirk, Two-Tone with his ice and fire Quirk (which, he never seemed to use the fire other than for melting ice, what a weirdo). And other Quirks Katsuki hasn’t really paid attention to or caught yet, but they’re all strong, but he was stronger.

He was the best! Everyone has always said so. You’re the best of us, Bakugou. If you can make it, you’ll make us proud. We know you can do it, everyone always told him.

But he’s sitting in the observation room, his hands burning at his sides, watching his classmates take part in their first exercise, and he’s… Confused. Angry and confused.

He lost.

He fucking lost, first time in his hero class.

How? How could this have happened? Surely, if Deku were here, he’d be able to explain a play-by-play of how exactly Katsuki lost, which is good he isn’t here, because Katsuki would have decked Deku across the room if he’d started with anything, but he can’t ignore the fact that the nerd is fucking smart, so of course he’d be able to figure out where things went wrong.

Maybe it was his partner? Engine-legs guy. Katsuki is pretty sure he’s related to Ingenium, with their weird mutant engine Quirks, but he’s not going to bother asking. Why should he be curious? It doesn’t matter. He’s just another extra.

… But, no. It isn’t Engine-legs’ fault.

Is it… My fault…?

A ridiculous thought. Fucking stupid. He shouldn’t even bother with it.

But…

Katsuki glances across the room. Shitty Hair and Pikachu are going up against the little purple pervert and Rich Girl on the screens, but he doesn’t really care about what’s going on (though, that little purple pervert is definitely ogling at Rich Girl’s breasts and if Katsuki was there he’d sock him) because he’s focused on the other purple-haired kid in their classroom, the one with the deep eyebags and the fucking—Brainwashing quirk.

He'd never felt so… Helpless. It was disgusting. It made his skin crawl, just thinking about it. Eyebags had asked Katsuki a question, a question Katsuki couldn’t even remember, and the next thing he knew, he had tied himself up with the capture tape. Eyebags hadn’t even landed a single hit on him and Katsuki was already out. Bullshit.

But All Might wouldn’t agree to a rematch, it was all “That battle was won fair and square, young Bakugou” this and “Please return to the observation room now” that. Bullshit. Bullshit! This was all so fucking stupid! Katsuki was supposed to be the strongest, the best, he’s going to be the Number-One hero! He can’t be beat by some nobody with eyebags and a brainwashing Quirk. He couldn’t be—he couldn’t be useless, like Deku is. He couldn’t be seen as a liability, like Deku. He couldn’t--

“Man, Bakugou, you look like you’re about to blow a fuse.” Alien Girl giggles next to him.

“Shut the hell up.” Katsuki isn’t afraid of snapping back. He never has been, and never will be. It’s what got him all the power at Aldera.

(Was the power really worth it, though, Katsuki?)

Shitty Hair and Pikachu win the round, of course. It’s hard for Rich Girl to focus on any sort of strategy or plan when the purple pervert is too focused on ogling her than actually completing their task at hand.

✨👻✨

Trigger.

Izuku is very aware of what kind of drug it is. It’s talked about in school on a different level than just weed and alcohol; taking it is dangerous not just for the user, but also, for everyone around the user. Your Quirk would get stronger, yes; ten times as strong. But you would quickly run out of control of your newfound power. Your tongue would turn a soot black, and you would start to rampage until it worked its way out of the system, in anywhere between an hour or a day, depending on your metabolism.

Many people deal with it in the smallest doses they can get away with before the rampage takes over. Enhancing their Quirk for just a little time. Stimulants, more or less; Izuku’s sure that a few junior high students would try and buy it and use it before big entrance exams, like for the U.A. exam, but they’d be caught pretty easily. Even just the smallest amount of Trigger has signs, the smallest bit of an unnaturally black tongue would have them pulled and disqualified immediately. The risks were not worth it except for the most desperate.

Izuku doesn’t plan on going to bust any drug trafficking rings, especially on his own. His priorities are more aligned with the simplest of vigilante actions—helping people. He’s stopped seventeen muggers in his month of vigilantism so far, stopped two bank robberies, eight assaults, and has managed to luckily get away from the police four times.

He’s sure they know by now that the Quirk suppressant cuffs don’t work that well on him. Officer Two the other day—hello again!—slapped two on his wrists the second time they tried to take him in. Izuku knows he could just easily get away before the police arrive, but, well—if they sneak up on him, he’s not entirely sure what to do? Like, yes, he can just escape, but that still feels awkward.

Damn societal conventions trapping him!

Still, it is a bit of a surprise when Izuku is doing his usual patrol, floating as invisibly as he can over the streets of Musutafu, and sees what he thinks is just a regular drug deal. Drugs were not his wheelhouse—Izuku doesn’t really wanna do anything too risky quite yet, he’s fine with what he’s doing—but then someone pulls out a gun, and, well, he can’t not just drop down and help out, even if everyone in the situation is somewhat in the morally wrong.

Just because someone is wrong, doesn’t mean they should die.

Izuku lands in-between the dealers and the buyer, turning the buyer intangible moments before the bullet hits them.

“Ah, hey—”

“What the hell?!”

“Sorry to drop in on you like this!” Izuku chuckles, hiding a toothy grin behind his mask. “Can’t help but notice that gun you got there, friend. Any chance you’d just give that to me easily?”

“Oh, shit, it’s you.” The man with the gun—he has no visible Quirk that Izuku can tell—grunts. In one hand is the gun (and Izuku needs to brush up on the different types of guns, because he has no idea how many bullets that gun can have), in the other hand is the case, presumably, with the drugs. “How about you mind your own business, kid, and not interrupt when the adults are talking?”

“Unfortunately, I have a genetic condition that makes it impossible for me to mind my own business. How about we just all take a step back, and—” Izuku hears the buyer yelp, and they duck behind a dumpster in the middle of the alleyway as the gun takes a shot at Izuku again. He’s quick to turn intangible. “Okay, well, I can’t say I didn’t try to talk you guys down.”

The two dealers—the lookout, whose skin looks as hard as stone, and the gunman—yell and charge at Izuku. The gun shoots off again, the bullet richocheting through Izuku—really, would they not realize by now?—and bouncing off the ground, before lodging itself in one of the walls. The lookout turns his fists into large boulders (heteromorphic-type Quirk, just avoid getting hit over the head with the arms, should be easy) and takes a few swings at Izuku.

He jumps out of the way and into the air with a spin, before letting gravity take him back and landing a kick hard on the lookout’s head.

Which is also stone. Which also hurts. Ouch. Didn’t think that one through too much. So the lookout’s entire skin turns to stone whenever the Quirk is used, good to know.

In the single moment Izuku is stunned from kicking the stone, he hears the gun go off again, and something tears through his arm. He hasn’t found too many limits to his abilities other than his own reaction time, which isn’t the best at times. The wound starts oozing bright green ectoplasm instead of blood.

Wait, ectoplasm? He bleeds ectoplasm. Okay, that’s cool to note. Something he will write down in the future, because he’s managed to survive vigilantism for quite a bit without getting any major wounds other than small cuts (that he doesn’t even notice until he’s human again and they bleed red) and lots of bruises.

“What the fuck, why is your blood green?!” The gunman yells, his eyes widening with shock.

“I eat my veggies!” Izuku responds, ignoring the pain in his arm to swing again at the gunman. A good hit to the face knocks him sideways, and the gun goes spinning on the ground with the gunman hitting the dumpster. Hopefully that’s only minor brain damage.

The lookout charges at Izuku again, fists stone again, but Izuku keeps himself intangible (and the wound starts to really burn when he uses his power) and the lookout runs himself straight into the wall, knocking himself down as well.

Izuku sighs, turning tangible again. “Really, you’d think they would learn once I did it to them once.” He turns back to the gunman, knocked out, and reaches into the pocket of his

He doesn’t steal rope, or cuffs, from anyone. He has an unfortunately large stash of zip-ties that he keeps in his pockets. Sure, the lookout could probably break out of them when he wakes up, but it’s just easier to keep the zip-ties when he’s done taking care of the bad guys and hoping an officer is close enough to pick them up before they can get out. He makes sure that both of the knocked-out villains have pulses, before he turns to the case.

Curiosity gets the better of him, as it always does (and it probably is his obsession, at this rate), and it easily clicks open with the thumbprint of the gunman.

Inside are four small vials of a green liquid. Trigger.

Oh. Oh, no.

Izuku stands up, holding the case still, and he turns around. The buyer—still terrified—is peeking out from behind the dumpster, and their eyes flicker from Izuku, to the Trigger, and then back to Izuku.

They were trying to buy Trigger? Izuku closes the case, setting it down gently, and steps over to the buyer.

“P-Please! Don’t hurt me!”

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Izuku says. The buyer is trying to dig themselves into a corner by the dumpster, but a tall, fully-grown lanky adult doesn’t have that ability. “Relax. I just want to ask you a question, okay?”

The buyer, still nervous, eyes wide, nods.

“Why were you trying to buy Trigger? You know what it does, don’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, I do. I—” The buyer stumbles over their words, before taking a deep breath to soothe their nerves. “I—I just got into this really, um, really big law school. I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer, it’s my dream. They’ve got some after-class tutoring if you need it, but I have to miss it a lot because my dad is sick, and I can’t risk falling behind, or I’ll get kicked out. Then I thought, hey, my Quirk boosts my learning speed, so maybe if I take just a little bit of Trigger, I don’t have to worry about—about falling behind.” They sigh. “It’s stupid. I’m sorry. You can tie me up now.”

“Tie you up? Why would I do that?”

“B-Because, um. I was trying to buy Trigger to use it?”

“But you didn’t buy it. And you didn’t use it.” Izuku responds. He can’t ignore the feeling in his core, the hum of resonance with this person here. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Junji Rei.”

“Junji, I know what it’s like to have a dream like that.” Izuku pulls down his mask, to humanize himself more. It settles the remaining nerves in Junji’s face. “Obviously, if you couldn’t tell, it was my dream to be a hero. I can’t judge anyone for trying to follow their dreams. So how about I make you a deal here?”

“A—a deal?”

“You go to your teachers, or your professors, and you tell them what’s going on with your dad. You ask if there’s any way that they can work with you in this tough time. Teachers—they can suck sometimes, sure, but I think they’ll listen to you. Or reach out to your classmates, see if you can form a tutor group of your own that can meet at better times.” Izuku smiles at Junji. “People will help you. You just have to ask.”

“A-Ask? But I…” Junji take a deep breath, before nodding. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I could ask from you.” Izuku grins. He pulls his mask up again, and pulls out his burner phone from his pocket. It’s a brick of an old phone that can only call emergency hotlines, but it’s all that Izuku needs. “I’m gonna call the police and tell them about the dealers here. You can decide whether or not you wanna stick around, okay?”

“I—okay. Yeah.” Junji jumps up, long limbs and all, and looks at Izuku. Their brown eyes are full of—something. There’s a bubbling of a feeling deep within Izuku’s core that he recognizes as some sort of emotion, but it’s indescribable. “Phantom? Thank you.”

“Of course. Follow your dream, Junji! Be the best lawyer you can be!”

✨👻✨

“Hey, Phantom!”

Izuku stops, mid-flight. He figured it was foggy enough at night where he wouldn’t be an immediate beacon if he flew around, especially in the residential areas in Musutafu, for just a little bit. The streets were quiet that night, Izuku only came across one attempted mugging, and that’s as far as it went—attempted. Izuku’s been getting faster at taking out these bad guys, though he’s also only just fighting people trying to mug others, so he might not be on a level to take on villains quite yet.

The bullet wound in his arm isn’t actively bleeding anymore, but it still hurts a bit. It’s not

Keeping himself invisible for longer periods of time is also getting easier, but it’s still bit a strain to be out for more than three hours most nights, especially with all the travel he has to do. Especially with this wound, too.

But his ghost form is getting stronger, and so is he. He just needs to work on his stamina.

“Down here!”

He glances down. There’s a figure on the top of one of the buildings, waving at him. They don’t seem—well, too bad, so he floats down a little closer, just out of each.

They’re a skinny twig of a man. Maybe early-twenties, or late teens, at the very least. Messy hair that doesn’t look like it’s been brushed in a long time, which is a little gross, but Izuku can’t judge people for their own hygiene habits, sometimes depression just is like that, he gets it.

“I was hoping we could ask you a question.”

“W-We?”

The shadow underneath the man stretches out, and swallows them whole, faster than Izuku can react. It isn’t the darkness that’s familiar with death, but it is a darkness that’s unsettling. Wrong. His core panics at the feeling, but just as quickly as it happens, it’s over, and Izuku finds himself landing butt-first on the floor of a bar, and the darkness shifts into the form of a rather well-dressed human behind the counter of the bar, and the man from before takes a seat at the bar.

“Come, sit. I have some questions for you.”

“I have questions for you, too. Uh, where are we? Who are you? Why did you kidnap me?”

“Easy, easy, Phantom. I believe we’re on the same side, here.” The man explains. He motions to the bar. “Drink?”

“Um.” Izuku shakes his head, standing up. “No, thanks.” He doesn’t want to just say, I’m not a legal adult, and also, he doesn’t trust the people who just kidnapped him on his way home from patrol. Cautiously, Izuku takes a seat at the bar, a few spots down from where the man sits.

The bartender pays no mind to it and goes about making a drink. It doesn’t look like there’s a lot of alcohol involved. In fact, in the corner of his eye, Izuku can spot a bottle of ginger ale being poured into a glass, with a few drops of a random red liquid, before a cherry is dropped on top and passed over to the man.

“Alright, Phantom. I’ve got a proposition for you. You’re a vigilante, right?”

Izuku slowly nods, keeping his eyes on the shadow-person. He doesn’t seem like an active threat, but if it’s his quirk that brought Izuku here, he doesn’t know exactly what to think about it. Nor does he know if he tries to escape, if they can track him and grab him again so he just sits, making sure his mask is covering his face.

“You don’t like hero society, then, right?” Izuku nods again, and the man continues. “Neither do we. Everything they’ve built, everything they strive for—it’s wrong. It’s the true evil in the world. Do you play games, Phantom?”

“Um. S-Sometimes?”

“Well, we’ve got a plan to take them down.” The man says. “We’re assembling a party to do it, and we need a rouge to help out. Do you want in?”

A game plan? To take them down? A party? Oh. Oh, no, no no no. Izuku shudders, and his core twists in his chest. “What are you planning?”

“We’re going to strike them where it hurts the most. We’re going to kill All Might.”

Kill All Might?

The number one hero, the symbol of peace? Izuku might hold contempt for the man, still, after what he’d told Izuku on that rooftop months ago, but it doesn’t mean that Izuku wants the hero dead. In fact, he would rather prefer All Might stayed alive long enough for Izuku to show him, to prove to him, that he could be a hero.

“K--kill All Might?” Izuku repeats, shocked, once the true terror lets him go. He’s been kidnapped by villains. Not just random people. Villains, who have a plan to kill All Might. That want him in on it. “What--what’s that going to achieve?”

“It’s going to send a message, to everybody, that the League of Villains are here, and we’re going to break down society so we can build it back even better than before.” The man says with a wide, manic grin. He takes another sip of his drink, pinkie raised, before setting the cup back down on the bar. “So, what do you say, Phantom?”

“I—I—” Izuku needs a second to find his words. He glances around the bar as quickly as he can, looking for exits, though he could probably disappear and just go through the ceiling and into the air, to try and get as far away from them as he possibly could.

The likelihood of them being able to find him again is sparse, though the villain with the warp quirk that brought him here—the human made of shadow behind the bar, looking at him with bright, glowing, yellow eyes—might have a quirk that could find him. But most teleportation quirks like that could only work when the user can visualize their location, or has been there before, not just chasing down a random person.

“It’s true, that hero society is bad. It’s caused me a lot of pain and suffering through my life, but I don’t think killing the number one hero is going to change anything about it.” Izuku stands up from the bar stool, his core humming loudly in his chest.

The man looks at him and his face darkens. He then wraps all of his fingers around the empty glass, letting it completely decay into ashes with his touch.

Oh, that’s probably not a good quirk to get hit with, Izuku thinks.

“You don’t know anything about it, then!” The man explodes into anger and tries to lunge towards Izuku. Izuku’s intangible in mere seconds, and the man can’t decay what he can’t touch, and Izuku jumps to the other side of the bar.

The shadow man doesn’t look any less indifferent to the man with the decaying quirk having what looks like a temper-tantrum in the middle of his bar. In fact, the shadow man just leans over the bar with a duster and dustpan and cleans up the dust of the glass.

“You might call yourself a vigilante, but you’re not any better than those good-for-nothing heroes! Newsflash, Phantom—they’re never going to accept you within their ranks! You’re never going to be anything but a vigilante to most, a villain to some. Why wouldn’t you want to join the winning team?”

I’m not in it for myself, Izuku wants to reply. I’m in it because I want to be a hero, and I couldn’t do it typically. I probably can’t even do it typically, still. It’s confusing, it’s something you clearly understand, you sweaty, gross, gamer!

He doesn’t say that. Instead, he says, with no hesitation, “You’re stupid, if you think this plan is going to work.”

At that, the man shrieks, and lunges for Izuku again, not realizing Izuku is still intangible, so he falls through and this time lands on the floor. Izuku takes that opportunity to turn invisible, too, before rocketing up into the ceiling as fast as he could go.

The floors above were pretty empty, and once he hit the skies, he could see he was in Hosu, of all places, which was quite a flight from Musutafu, so he pulled up his GPS on his phone, figured out the direction he needed to go in, and flew as fast as he could muster towards home.

Chapter Text

“Do you remember what I told you about cores, when you first became king?”

“Um, kinda? ...Not really, Clockwork.”

“It has been a while. I can forgive that… For now.”

“Hey! Not all of us are all-seeing gods of time, you know.”

“No, some of us are all-seeing gods of space, now.”

“… Fair point. Anyway, what were you saying about cores?”

“A ghost’s core forms separately from their body after death. You would expect it to form around the cause of one’s death, but, in reality, a ghost’s core forms in relation to what they required most in life.”

“Oh, yeah! That’s why I have an ice core, and not an electric core, right?”

“Precisely, Equinox. You wanted stability in your life, between your parents and the bullying you experienced at school. Thus, your ice core. Plasmius, on the other hand, wanted passion and the warmth of another, and his core formed into a fiery plasma core. It’s not too hard to figure out other's ghost cores, either, when you know of their life.”

“I see, I see… Well, what do you think of the new Phantom’s core?”

“Midoriya Izuku… I do not know yet. We will just have to see."

✨👻✨

It’s the middle of the day, so it isn’t a time that Izuku would go out on a patrol. He tries to not let his nightly activities catch up on him during the day time-- his brain is still swirling with the information from the night before, from that guy who said he wanted to kill All Might-- but he can't let it affect his day life, or his grades, or his relationship with his mom. If any of those things got seriously hit because of his vigilantism, well; Izuku doesn't know what would happen other than he'd end up fumbling and getting caught for real and ruining everything he's built so far. He tries not to think about it.

But he’s finished with his classwork for the day, and there’s a bit of cash left on the counter for him to go pick up some groceries, so a little late-afternoon grocery run won’t hurt.

He doesn’t even intend to use his powers. He intends to just walk down the street, get his groceries in peace, listen to his music, and enjoy the nice weather.

Not all is well in Musutafu.

The first thing he notices is the smell of something in the air. Smoke? When Endeavor ends up in the city, no matter where he fights, there is a stagnant smell of smoke that wafts through the buildings for days afterwards, so maybe it’s just that?

It’s strong. Not just because Izuku’s senses are stronger now (which, is very strange, by the way. If Izuku died, shouldn’t they be weaker, or something), but it’s something other people are noticing to.

He stops at an intersection, and looks up in the air. Sure enough, there’s a huge cloud of smoke high in the sky. He can’t tell where it is though, other than the fact that it’s there. Well, there are plenty of daylight heroes out. They don’t need a nobody vigilante to go help out, do they?

When Izuku walks into the store, he gets his first hint at what exactly is going on.

He has to duck behind another person as they walk through the sliding doors. For whatever reason, any sort of motion sensors don’t work on Izuku in either form anymore. He can’t figure that out—unintended electrical interference from his core? His body doesn’t have as much presence as a Quirked person? It’s an annoying little lowercase-quirk of his new powers. It's easy to get around, at least. Just wait for somebody else to go in, and even though it's the middle of the afternoon, the small grocery store is quite busy.

He slides his headphones off and grabs a basket, stopping as a couple passes by, chatting to each other. His ears perk up at their conversation.

“I can’t believe that fire happening at the Musutafu Times building right now.”

“I know, it’s so large. I’m surprised they haven’t called in any heroes yet who could put it out.”

“Maybe they’re waiting for something?”

A fire. At the Musutafu Times building? The only newspaper in all of Musutafu is on fire, right now?

Oh, Izuku has to see this.

He’s never transformed mid-day before, or out in the open like this. Even in a store, dropping everything and transforming would be quite obvious. His transformations are noticeable at home, but he makes sure to do it in the bathroom or in his bedroom with his door shut when his mom is asleep or not there. But the grocery store he’s at is a chain, and there’s public restrooms available, and nobody is going to notice if he just zips into a stall and transforms, right?

His steps are quiet as he gets to the nearest bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. Public bathrooms have always sucked, but these are, at least, very clean. There’s another man in one of the stalls, and Izuku takes the one furthest from the occupied one, and holds his breath.

Flush. The man’s humming a tune. Probably hasn’t even noticed Izuku enter. Once Izuku hears the tell-tale sign of the bathroom door opening and closing, he grabs a hold of his core and transforms as fast as he can. The flash of light is bright, but nobody yelps or asks about it, so he’s safe to assume he’s alone, and Izuku lets intangibility wash over him as he flies up through the ceiling and roof of the building.

Even though he’s never been to the Musutafu Times building before, it’s easy to find. It’s a large, brutalist building in the center of Musutafu’s more metropolitan districts, and also, there’s a large cloud of smoke coming straight off the building acting as a large neon sign saying THE FIRE IS HERE.

And, yeah, the building is definitely on fire. It’s almost amazing, how on-fire it is. There’s as many fire trucks and rescue heroes as Musutafu could afford, but Izuku can’t spot any heroes with water quirks in the crowd. Strange.

It looks like someone had an issue with an article written about something, because the fire lights up half of the building. It's also the middle of the day; an unusual time for arsonists to strike, but this arsonist must have wanted to send some kind of message.

What message, Izuku doesn’t know. But he is curious, so he is probably going to find out, somehow. Damn Obsession.

“--Toshi? Toshi!”

The sound of a man’s voice crying out for somebody breaks Izuku out of his momentary stupor, witnessing the Musutafu Times building lit ablaze. It was a horrifying sight, seeing the six-story building up in flames, but there were enough heroes on the scene, he really didn’t see the need to interfere, except—

The man calling out for someone—named Toshi—looks incredibly distraught. He’s dressed exactly how Izuku would imagine a journalist to be dressed, including a visible outline of a notebook in his upper shirt pocket and a pen sticking out, but his messy dark indigo hair, deep eyebags, and five o’clock shadow describe something else.

He walks up to a few people who just stumbled out of the building. “Excuse me, please—have you seen my son? Have you seen Hitoshi?”

Nobody he asks is able to say anything for certain. They all have the vague familiarity of colleagues between them, but nobody’s able to correctly locate the man’s son Hitoshi anywhere.

Well. All the other heroes are distracted with rescuing the main floors and getting the fire out, not looking for a single person.

“Excuse me, sir?” Izuku drops his invisibility on the other side of the man, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. “Who are you looking for?”

“My son, Hitoshi. He’s not answering his phone, and, oh, god, he was just doing his homework in my office, and I—” The man holds back a sob. “He just got into U.A., he can’t die like this, he wants to be a hero so badly, and I—I can’t lose him, too.”

A U.A. student, huh? Izuku muses to himself. “Which floor is your office on, sir?”

“The fifth floor—wait, where are you going? Hold on, kid, wait—"

Izuku jumps up into the air and flies off in the blink of an eye. Even though the building is only six-stories high, it’s wider than it is taller, and most of the flame is coming out of the fourth and fifth floors, which isn’t a good sign for Hitoshi’s sake. Hitoshi is probably his given name, but Izuku can’t be bothered to figure out the boy’s surname, so he phases into the fifth floor and keeps himself intangible, looking around.

Izuku’s glad he doesn’t need to breathe. The floor is absolutely ablaze. Beams are beginning to collapse in on themselves, and the heat is intolerable. It’s stronger than the fiery pop-pop-pop of Bakugou’s explosions.

He keeps himself intangible, and phases through the open walls. “Hello? Is anybody out here? Hello?”

He’s hopeful that Hitoshi was able to escape with the other crowds, and get out of the building, but something deep in his core is telling him to look, look, look. He doesn’t ignore the gut feelings from his core, not anymore. He phases through another wall, before noticing—there!

A boy is on the ground, his shirt lifted around his mouth to stop the smoke inhalation, but he doesn’t look all that good. Izuku can see the familiarity in the man in this boy, the eyebags and messy hair, though the boy’s hair is a vibrant violet. Still, that’s gotta be him.

“Are you Hitoshi?”

The boy jumps at his name, and he turns around. His eyes are watering a lot from the heat and the smoke, and he barely croaks out, “Who’re you?”

“Hi! You can call me Phantom.” The Musutafu Phantom is his full name, assigned by the press, but Phantom is just easier. Phantom. He won’t deny it doesn’t have a good ring to it. “I’m here to get you out of here.”

Hitoshi’s hesitant, which is good. He doesn’t seem to have heard of Phantom, which is also good, Izuku supposes. There’s a bit of trust there, at least; hopefully Hitoshi thinks that Phantom is a hero and will come with him willingly. “H-How?”

“My powers, duh.” Izuku floats over to him, glancing around at the fire. They really can’t stay much longer. Hitoshi is looking pale, and his white uniform shirt—he is a U.A. student, oh dear—is covered in soot. Without thinking, Izuku pulls off his own mask, and hands it over to Hitoshi. “Here, this’ll filter things better.”

“What about—” The boy coughs. “—y-you?”

“Oh, I don’t actually breathe!” Izuku responds with a grin, before hearing a loud creeaak above him. “Alright, time to get us outta here.” He swings his arms underneath Hitoshi’s body and picks him up bridal-style. Hitoshi slips the mask on, and Izuku barely moves them out of the way in time before a large beam, very much on fire, smashes down where Hitoshi is still sitting.

“This might feel a little tingly.”

He hadn’t had much time to experiment with his intangibility before, but if he could pass it onto other objects he was holding, and onto the eyeballs of that gross slime villain months ago, then surely, he could pass it onto over living things? The small glow that covers Izuku whenever he’s intangible spreads to Hitoshi as well. I can spread this to other people! Sweet! It’s short-lived, though, as the sound of the fire and more coughing from Hitoshi brings him back to the current moment. Right. Building on fire. Focus, Izuku. 

Izuku spirits them out of the nearest window he can find, which is also conveniently shattered from the heat around them. Hitoshi coughs and wheezes in the fresh air, and dares a look down, before turning into Izuku more and holding onto his hoodie for dear life.

“Not a big fan of heights?”

It feels like something grabs a hold of Izuku, deep in his core. The next few words out of Hitoshi’s mouth feel commanding. “Just put me down, Phantom.”

“Aye-aye, Hitoshi!” Izuku’s gentle about it. He’s never carried another person flying before like this, and while he’s sure his ghost form has some sort of adaptations that makes the motion sickness of flying easier, like many other flight Quirks, he’s sure Hitoshi doesn’t have it. He spots Hitoshi’s dad in the crowd, and carefully lowers himself down, setting Hitoshi down on the ground as softly as possible.

“Toshi! Oh, thank god, you’re okay!”

Izuku glances around, spotting paramedics nearby. “Hey! Paramedics! Over here!” One of them spots Izuku and points, and shouts something, but Izuku can’t exactly hear what it is over the crowd of people. It looks like they say vigilante, or maybe, Vicanti, but it’s probably the first option there.

“Phantom?” The man asks, his eyes wide. But he looks at his son, and then back at Izuku. Whatever thought he had about Izuku seems to vanish in an instant with his son safe in his arms. “Thank you. I—I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost Hitoshi.”

“Of course, sir!” He jumps back into the air, spotting a hero running towards them alongside the paramedics. “Well, looks like I gotta get outta here. Take care, Hitoshi, hope to see you as a hero someday!”

He doesn’t even remember leaving his mask with Hitoshi.

✨👻✨

CATNYAP: MINI

CATNYAP: MINI GET ON RIGHT NOW

CATNYAP: YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED

MINIGHOST: What just happened?

CATNYAP: ok did you hear about the fire at the musutafu times

MINIGHOST: I did! Did they already find who set the building on fire?

CATNYAP: not yet

CATNYAP: but look

CATNYAP: when i tell you this, trust that i am fine and i’ve been discharged from the hospital already

MINIGHOST: You were at the hospital?!

CATNYAP: yes look my dad works at the Musutafu times

CATNYAP: sometimes i do my homework in his office cause it’s quieter and not at home with the cats

CATNYAP: anyway i got trapped in the building when it was on fire and that new vigilante Phantom saved me

MINIGHOST: Phantom saved you?

CATNYAP: yeah!!! they were really cool!!!!

CATNYAP: apparently they don’t need to breathe. which is. unsettling but kinda sick

MINIGHOST: You think Phantom is cool?

CATNYAP: yeah ik vigilantes get a bad rap sometimes but my dad wrote the original article and it’s just. idk kinda nice to know that there’s someone like phantom looking out for us in musutafu, y’know?

MINIGHOST: Yeah, I do know.

MINIGHOST: I’m glad you’re okay, Cat!

CATNYAP: me too. god it’d be so cringe to miss one of my first days at UA because i had to go to the hospital because of smoke inhalation

CATNYAP: but i’m good, got lucky with that

CATNYAP: anyway. that’s my adventure for today how’s your day been

MINIGHOST: It’s been fine. Just did some classwork and picked up some groceries. My mom is gonna teach me to make katsudon tonight!

CATNYAP: sick! have fun

MINIGHOST: Yeah, I hope it all works out!

MINIGHOST: Also, hey, Cat? Remember how we said we should meet up in person, one day?

MINIGHOST: Well, I know you’re a U.A. student and you’ll probably be busy, but I think we should plan something for the future. Sometime soon.

MINIGHOST: Only if you want, though! No pressure at all!

CATNYAP: actually, that’d be fun.

CATNYAP: you free this weekend?

Chapter Text

Izuku doesn’t exactly know what one is supposed to do when one meets up with their friends—in his defense, he hasn’t had friends in years, the last time he had friends, he still had to rely on his mom and their parents to coordinate playdates. Now, it’s a simple don’t go out when it’s actively storming out anymore rule with his mom, and, he’s let loose on the streets of Musutafu.

The streets have been feeling a little safter, as of late. Izuku can’t tell if it’s his own confidence growing (turns out being away from bullies for a few months does wonders for your own mental health), or if it’s because of the actual work he’s been doing as a vigilante. Musutafu isn’t an unsafe city in the day, especially as he and his online friend—who is Shinsou Hitoshi, who he saved the other day, what the fu—agree to meet in an open, public place. Izuku’s mom is the one who suggested it, and Shinsou’s dad—the same journalist who gave him his vigilante names mall world—agreed, once Shinsou had asked.

But, like. What is he supposed to do when he ‘hangs out’ with a friend? He’s never done this before!

Izuku tries to put on the nicest clothes he owns, but all he owns is hero merch and one nice white button-up shirt, so he throws on a simple Mirko shirt and a pair of shorts. The pale pink of his t-shirt looks good with the olive green shorts, and the only reason he knows that they’ll look decent together is because one of his electives in his online school is a Fashion History class. Most of the other art classes were taken, and he needs one to graduate, but it’s kinda interesting learning about clothing and stuff through his lectures. Satisfied with his outfit, he quickly heads out to the mall.

It doesn’t take long to get where they agreed to meet up. Izuku’s anxious and leaves early because, well, what-ifs started to fly through his brain faster than he could even think, and his core was humming louder than the thump of his heartbeat in his chest, so he arrives at the Musutafu Mall about ten minutes before they’d agreed to meet right outside by the fountain.

It seems like Shinsou is nervous, too, as Izuku can spot the boy nervously sitting at one of the benches, looking at something on his phone.

Honestly, Izuku’s glad they sent awkward selfies to each other the night before so they’d know what each other was supposed to look like, even though Izuku technically knows already. He can just play it off, like, oh, yeah, I just really remember faces, and not, I’m the vigilante Phantom who saved you the other day. For some reason, the image of Shinsou’s messy hair and violet eyes got burned into his mind after he saved him the week before, especially after he found out he saved Shinsou. He saved Shinsou.

It’s still wild for him to think about.

Shinsou doesn’t seem to have enough situational awareness, or is probably too invested in a cat video on his phone. Izuku takes a deep breath, in for seven, out for seven, before slowly approaching.

“Um, hello—"

Shinsou jumps up like someone stabs him, but he relaxes once he sees who it is.

“Oh, Jesus—sorry, I wasn’t, um. I didn’t see you there.”

Izuku shakes his head, waving his hands nervously. He hadn’t meant to scare Shinsou like that, it just— happens, sometimes. Even before he’d half-died, Izuku had learned the uncanny ability of quiet walking, and unfortunately had scared his classmates before in school multiple times on accident. “No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

Shinsou looks at Izuku. They look at each other for a bit, before Izuku nervously laughs, breaking the tension.

“Uh, it’s nice to finally meet you in person! I’m, um, Midoriya Izuku, but you probably already knew that—” Izuku awkwardly holds his hand out.

Shinsou stands, pocketing his phone, and takes it. He smirks. “Shinsou Hitoshi. It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Mini.”

Izuku smiles back. “Y-You too, Cat!”

“You’re shorter than I was expecting. I see why you picked the name, Mini.”

“H-hey!” Izuku crosses his arms. “I’m—I’m not that short.”

“You kinda are.”

(He is, unfortunately, short; so is his mom, and Izuku’s father was an average-height. He’s taken after his mom a lot more than his father, only really carrying over his father’s curly hair genes and the freckles.

Electrocuting himself to half-death probably isn’t going to help with growing any taller, either, probably.)

“W-Well, anyway, what do you want to do?”

Shinsou blinks at him, and then looks away. “I—I dunno, what do you wanna do?”

“I was, um, kinda hoping you’d know what to do. I’ve never hung out with a friend like this before”

“I haven’t either.”

Ah. Well. That complicates things. Surely one of them would have to take the initiative, and move, or something? After a moment of awkward-er silence, Izuku takes another breath. “Well, c’mon, let’s go inside.”

Izuku hasn’t been to the Musutafu Mall all that often, aside from two specific stores (a basic clothing store and, of course, the huge hero merch store) but he knows it’s where a lot of people his age tended to hang out. For one, people didn’t have to typically spend money to exist in the mall. His mom gave him a bit of extra cash she’d had on hand to buy himself some lunch and maybe something small, if he gets a smaller lunch, but not much else.

It's a lot larger than Izuku realizes it is. He and Shinsou make small talk—not too different from their messages on the phone, but this time, they’re in person, which makes it so much cooler—as they walk by the different stores. They both stopped to get small boba drinks, a brown sugar milk tea for Izuku, and a fruity dragonfruit tea for Shinsou.

“Yeah, the teachers at U.A. are very… interesting.”

“Are the rumors true that All Might is teaching there?”

Shinsou nods. “Yeah. A bunch of press broke into the grounds the other day to get their interviews in.” He sighs.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Shinsou takes a sip of his drink. They pass by Izuku’s favorite store, the hero store, and they stop at the windows to peer in. “It was a mess. Even my dad thought they went too far.”

Ah, right, Shinsou’s dad—Shinsou Jun, who wrote the article that named Izuku’s vigilante form. The name that had settled right into his core and felt right, felt like home. He’s glad he didn’t get stuck with a stupid name.  

Still—a bunch of press breaking into U.A.? Something about that doesn’t feel quite right. He isn’t quite sure if he’s feeling it within his core, or within his gut, but it doesn’t make sense for the press to break into U.A., even if they do tend to go feral around any heroes within the top ten rankings. To recklessly get onto the grounds, knowing they could get in a lot of trouble with both the school and the law?

Something didn’t feel right. Izuku takes a pensive sip of his drink, chewing on the boba pearl that shoots into his mouth.

They continue to do their loop around the mall. Nothing seemed to stand out to either of them specifically, but it’s nice to be doing something outside with someone Izuku considers a friend, for once. Just chatting about their lives, and it comes to Izuku’s mind that he doesn’t have a very interesting life. He takes online classes, helps his mom out with chores sometimes, and that’s it. His mom asked him to promise he’d find some sort of ‘after-school’ club or group to join, but most of them specifically exclude Quirkless people. Maybe he could find a part-time job somewhere that didn’t suck to do with his daytime hours. Or maybe—

No. Daytime patrols as a vigilante would be too dangerous. He’s fine with having underground heroes like Eraserhead on his tail, because underground heroes tend to be lenient when it comes to vigilantes, as long as the vigilantes stay in their own lane and don’t turn down a path of villainy. And that isn’t something Izuku plans to do too soon.

As they turn a corner in the mall, Izuku spots familiar people ahead, and freezes.

Them. It’s odd seeing Kacchan—Bakugou’s—old friends without Bakugou around. But those boys weren’t ever really friends with Bakugou. Not that Izuku can’t imagine Bakugou having friends, and he’s sure that one day, someone can befriend that prickly cactus of a human being, but the boys from Aldera Junior High (who probably all moved onto Aldera High) weren’t his friends. They claimed they were for the power and prestige of being friends with the one student who would actually make it as a hero, who had the strongest quirk in class.

“--Midoriya?” Izuku doesn’t even take time to think, he just grabs Shinsou by the arm and drags him into the nearest storefront. It’s an old technology shop, but he’s not interested in any of the tech. He’s not alone, he can’t just turn invisible, even though he really wants to, because as far as Shinsou knows, Midoriya Izuku is Quirkless.

There’s a little spot right by the storefront window, where Izuku can see a sliver of mall outside of it. Nobody would

“Midoriya, what’s wrong?”

“I—Sorry. Um.” He sees the group of three boys pass by, loud and rowdy as usual. They’ve taken up a more delinquient style, not that Izuku is all that surprised. “Saw somebody I knew. And, uh…”

Shinsou’s flickers his eyes out to the mall, and then Izuku. And then—oh, Shinsou gets it.

“No, I get it.” Shinsou says, after a moment. “I wouldn’t want to see any of my bullies anywhere, either. Especially now that I got into U.A.”

“Wouldn’t they leave you alone, now?” Izuku pokes his head out, making sure the group of boys are actually gone, before they start back on their walk. They’re not even window shopping for anything, anymore—they’re just walking around a mall like two weirdos.

“You’d think that, but, well…” Shinsou sighs. “They’d probably still blame it all on my Quirk.”

Ah, right—Shinsou’s Quirk. Izuku still doesn’t know exactly what it is, other than it’s what he’s been bullied over for his whole life, and it’s something that’s seen as villainous. He’s never wanted to pry too much into Shinsou’s personal life, especially when they were still online strangers, but there’s a resonance in his core that he recognizes as curiosity.

“If you, um, don’t mind me asking—what is your Quirk?”

Shinsou stops walking, and chews on his straw for a minute. “It’s, uh. Brainwashing.”

“Brainwashing?”

“Yeah, I can, uh—take control of anyone who verbally responds to me.”

“That is…” Izuku’s core hums loudly, and he’s honestly surprised that it’s a sound that Shinsou can’t hear. “…so cool!”

He clearly isn’t expecting Izuku’s reaction, and Shinsou’s face freezes, brows furrowed. “I’m sorry—uh, what?”

“Brainwashing is such a versatile Quirk!” Izuku responds back. “Is it limited to only coherent responses, or are you able to control someone who makes a sound in response? Like, could you control somebody who laughs at your joke, or scoffs at something you say, or does it have to be a verbal response?”

“I, uh.” Shinsou blanks. “I haven’t thought of that, actually?”

“You should definitely try it!” Izuku replies. “Maybe you could take some pointers from heroes like Ms. Joke! I don’t think her Quirk necessarily needs someone to laugh at a joke for it to work, but I think humor is definitely a weapon you could use to your advantage in a fight. Maybe even study some comedians, too?” He glances over to Shinsou.

Shinsou is staring at him, mouth somewhat agape. If it weren’t for the tight grip he has on his drink, Izuku’s sure it would have fallen to the ground and spilled already.

“Uh, sorry. I really, um. Like Quirks. Y’know.” Embarrassment-Shy-Awkward.

“You’re fine, Midoriya. I—I mean, I’ve always known you like Quirk Analysis, but did you just pull all of that out of your head? Just now?”

Izuku shrugs. “Yeah? It’s not like it’s hard.” He’s never found analysis particularly hard. It’s one of the few hobbies Izuku has stuck with his whole life, and it’s something that he might have considered jotting down as a fake Quirk, once upon a time.

To pretend he just has a very minor intelligence Quirk, instead of nothing at all. It isn’t like there weren’t any Quirkless people who didn’t do that, either accidentally or purposefully, but even if it’s illegal, sometimes it’s better in the long run to pretend you have a Quirk instead of being cast out as Quirkless forever.

“Midoriya, I don’t think I know anybody who could just do that, except actual professionals.” Shinsou adds. He glances down at his drink again. “Do you think you could, um, help me out with my Quirk a bit, sometime?”

“Help you?” The U.A. student? You have access to thousands of resources like that. Why would you want to go with me?

“Most of my classmates have Quirks that are physical. I’m already behind on them with that, and now that they know what my Quirk is and how it works, I don’t know how I’m ever going to beat them outside of just normal combat.” He explains. “I’m just… I don’t want to fall behind.”

I don’t want to fall behind.

Junji Rei’s voice echoes in the back of Izuku’s mind again.

“Yeah, of course I’ll help, Shinsou!”

✨👻✨

Don’t get involved in Trigger, he’s warned.

You’re just a kid, you don’t need to risk your life to stop a few drug dealers, he’s told.

But, well, it isn’t like Izuku is purposefully searching out Trigger dealers in Musutafu right now. Actually, it’s quite the opposite; he would love to not deal with all of this. Izuku doesn’t want to get too involved in Trigger deals, just the normal nonsense on the streets. Stuff that people could take without causing a huge nightmare with their Quirk.

Unfortunately for Izuku, it’s either his rotten luck, or just a coincidence, that he’s ended up involved in two separate deals going wrong so shortly after meeting the lawyer Junji.

It’s not a huge surprise that a random villain-of-the-day got her hands on Trigger and sought out to create as much chaos as she could on the streets while she did something comparatively mundane-- a heist on a museum. He still can’t figure out her reason for the heist, but while the heroes in the area—one of which being Endeavor, kinda cool—focus on taking down the three people she’d shot with Trigger-infused bullets, Izuku follows her quietly and invisibly into the museum.

Screw him, he’s curious what she’s after. Maybe if he sees what she’s after, he can piece together her motive?

The villain is in a black skin-tight suit that obscures most of her features, except for her hair, which is done in an extravagant up-do. A hot pink Sakura flower is designed into the back of her suit, and she has a gun in the holster of her belt, and a vine-like whip on the other side. She didn’t announce her name, and Izuku had never heard of her before, so she’s either a subtle villain, or perhaps new at this.

Izuku follows her into an exhibit with old, early Quirk era books on display. This wing of the museum is dedicated completely to early Quirk era “artifacts”, even if some of the items in the glass cases are only a few generations old, and don’t look too much different from items Izuku could see for sale in the modern day.

“Aha!” She eventually finds what she’s looking for, dropping down from the rafters where Izuku is following her.

It’s a… book. The villain shatters the glass, not even bothered by an alarm getting set off, and picks up the book, leafing through a few pages. Izuku can’t read it from where he’s floating, a few feet above her, but, really, a book?

All the chaos—shooting three innocent bystanders with Trigger, causing them to go on a chaotic rampage through the city—for a book?

“You know, you could’ve probably borrowed this book out from the library, instead.” Izuku says, shooting down and grabbing the book from her grasp as he turns visible.

“What the—you! You’re that little kid vigilante, aren’t you?”

“Yep! The name’s Phantom. Don’t wear it out.” Izuku flies high out of her reach, and leafs through a few pages of the book. It’s not even a published book—it’s somebody’s personal journal. “You’re stealing somebody’s diary?”

The villain grabs her whip, and it shoots out to grab the rafters of the building again. It’s an interesting design choice, for a museum to have completely open rafters and vents, but Izuku’s not one to judge interior design too much. She pulls herself up with it, swinging to kick at Izuku. She doesn’t collide with him, but she does startle Izuku enough (he was not expecting that) to the point where he drops the book, and the villain grabs it easily.

The villain swings again, and twirls into the air to land on the rafter. Her movement in the air is mesmerizing—Izuku’s pretty sure that sort of experience would come with being a trapeze artist in a circus, or something similar. Her movements are too graceful. “I’m not one to question what my clients ask for. I just grab it, cause a little chaos, and get out of there.”

She’s not grabbing it for herself, then. “Oh, you’re a thief-for-hire?”

“Curious little thing, aren’t you?” The villain asks with a smirk, ducking as Izuku shoots out for her, trying to grab the book from her grasp again. “I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of me before. You can call me Sakura, little kid.”

Sakura, huh? It doesn’t give Izuku any hints towards her Quirk. He turns intangible right before she could grab him with her whip. That has something to do with it, for sure. Perhaps some sort of plant manipulation ability?

Also, youch. Izuku’s gotten used to the villains and thugs he fights underestimating him for being a kid, but it still doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less. But they’re supposed to be trying to hurt him, so, well, at least he can tell them when they get arrested, yeah, you were really mean, you did a good job in villain!

Her whip shoots out again, before it stops mid-air, and goes slack. Sakura’s face scrunches up in anger, as shooting it out again does nothing. “My Quirk…?”

No Quirk. That means—Izuku spots him, hiding in the shadows. Eraserhead! Izuku figured the hero would be around at some point during the night. It’s not like Izuku has the guy’s patrol schedule memorized, or anything (see: he totally does, but it’s not for a creepy reason, it’s so Izuku can keep an eye and make sure the underground hero isn’t getting too close to Izuku’s home, for obvious reasons).

Eraserhead shoots out his own capture weapon towards Sakura, but she ducks out of the way of it, and starts running alongside the rafters, towards the opening she’d made in the skylights moments before. Eraserhead shoots after her, and Izuku isn’t too far behind, staying close to the pro as he does. It’s far enough that they might be able to catch up.

The hero grunts at Izuku. “What did I tell you about getting involved with this stuff?”

“Hey! I’m technically not getting involved in the people who were hit by Trigger, so I’m not involved with Trigger!” Argue with my logic, I dare you. Izuku wants to say, but they’ve got to focus on the issue at hand, not banter.

Sakura is able to use her Quirk again for a second when Eraserhead blinks, and she takes advantage of it, by whipping herself further ahead on the rafters. She’s already almost to the skylights she shattered to get in. Eraserhead and Izuku aren’t too far behind, but they’re far enough that the capture weapon isn’t able to reach her.

How can I go faster? Izuku wonders, his eyes glancing around the space he’s in. Turning intangible means he won’t have to deal about weaving around the bulky vents around them, and maybe if he turns intangible, he can get rid of the air that is resisting around him as he’s flying? Well, no time for thinking too much on whether it’d be possible, time to try it out. Izuku turns intangible and pushes himself just a little bit faster. The lack of resistance in the air means he shoots out faster than he’s ever flown before, and Izuku is able to reach the shattered skylight and land on the rafters in front of Sakura.

She skids to a stop, and turns, but Eraserhead is across from her. Behind her is the back wall of the roof, and to her left is the direction they’d just come from, which is also risky.

Eraserhead activates his Quirk again, his dark hair floating into the air, and Sakura flinches. She doesn’t hide it very well.

She grunts, and reaches for the other thing on her belt. The gun in its holster. “Fine. I was hoping to save the last one of these, but this’ll make an easier escape.”

She still has more bullets. Izuku’s brain thinks faster than his body for a second, and then, his body acts on its own.

Everything happens in slow motion. Sakura grabs the gun, and aims it towards Eraserhead, who blinks and drops his own Quirk. She pulls the trigger, and Izuku flies into its path.

He’d been shot before, but only once—the bullet was easy to pull out of him, and once he got it out, Izuku’s body healed as fast as it could. He didn’t even need to worry about figuring out how to stitch himself back up when he got home from patrol, by the time he stumbled into his room at four in the morning all Izuku needed to do was wrap his arm up in some gauze, and the wound had scarred over by that afternoon, and faded completely the next day. His fast healing wasn’t the main reason Izuku’s brain immediately went to taking the bullet for Eraserhead. He just didn’t want to deal with a pro hero that got drugged up on Trigger.

Though, he doesn’t quite know what Trigger would do to his own body.

The bullet rips through the air and clips Izuku in his stomach, right where his intestines would be. The pain immediately explodes, and Izuku falls.

Well, I guess I’m about to find out, Izuku thinks, grimly. At least it would give Eraserhead time to catch Sakura. Trigger can take a minute or two to hit in the systems of people with Quirks, but Izuku didn’t know what that’d mean for someone who had the strength equivalent of 100 Quirks in his body.

He doesn’t hit the ground, though—he hears Eraserhead’s capture weapon shoot out and it wraps around him instead, though, it isn’t constrictive. What?

Izuku glances up, as Eraserhead pulls Izuku up through the open skylight and onto the roof.

“Shit. Look, kid, it’s going to be okay—”

Izuku blinks up at Eraserhead, as he’s set onto the roof. The capture weapon unwinds around him, and folds back around Eraserhead’s neck. The pro hero is already kneeling down on the ground with Izuku. “B-But Sakura—”

“Sakura is a thief who has gotten away from hundreds of robberies, and will no doubt be making another one soon. She can be caught another day.” Eraserhead explains. It’s not the most logical reason, but there’s a twinge of fear in the pro hero’s eyes.

Ah, right. Probably the strongest thing anyone has ever seen has gotten hit by Trigger. No doubt everybody is afraid of what’s going to happen.

Speaking of that. It’s definitely been long enough for Trigger to kick in, hasn’t it? Izuku doesn’t really feel all that different, except for the pain exploding in his midsection. He winces as he tries to sit up all the way; Eraserhead helps him lean back up against a turned-off air conditioning unit.

“Phantom. Listen to me, alright? We’re going to need to get that bullet out now. We can’t let too much Trigger get into your system.”

“O-Okay. Um.” It’s hard with the elbow braces on, but Izuku wiggles out of his hoodie quickly. The light gray t-shirt underneath is already soaked with ectoplasm from the gushing wound, which is just a little bit to the left of his belly button. “Ouch. That’s gross.”

“You’re bleeding green.” Eraserhead deadpans. “Is that normal?”

“Yeah. I think so?”

“When was the last time you’ve been to a hospital?”

“Um.” Izuku shrugs. Another shock of pain goes through his body. Oh, yeah, he’ll definitely be out of patrol for a few days. “Doesn’t matter. It’s a bullet we’re trying to dig out, right?”

Eraserhead grunts, but says nothing. He reaches into one of the small utility bags along his belt, and pulls out a small battle first-aid kit. Izuku would imagine that typically, keeping a bullet in a wound is the best option until they can actually get him to a hospital, but two things are different. One, Izuku is not, and never will be, going to a hospital. If they find out about his whacky anatomy and existence, well, somebody might try and put him under lock and key, or maybe the Hero Commission—either way, no thanks. And, two—the bullet supposedly has Trigger in it, and the faster they can get it out, the less Trigger will be in Izuku’s system.

But he hasn’t felt anything yet but the pain from the gunshot. So, maybe—

Eraserhead doesn’t need to even dig through Izuku’s abdomen to find the bullet. It’s a solid, non-ectoplasmic item lodged in Izuku, and he just needs a moment to turn intangible, and it drops to the ground right under him.

“Uh. Here’s the bullet?” Izuku picks it up. It’s covered in ectoplasm, which will definitely dissolve over time once it’s out of his body. Hopefully it won’t corrode the bullet itself. Izuku would feel bad if he accidentally destroyed the evidence.

Eraserhead takes the bullet carefully, sliding it into a small plastic baggie. He definitely splurges for the highest quality bandages for his first aid kit, and the gauze is wrapped tightly around Izuku’s midsection quickly. Izuku drops the shirt, and tries to ignore the thumping pain in his stomach, but he can feel his core already starting to loudly hum as it starts to work on healing the wound.

“Alright, once we get you to the hospital, we can get you the antidote, and…” Eraserhead pauses, and looks down at Izuku. “How are you feeling with that?”

“Uh, no different than normal, I guess?” Izuku replies. He sticks his tongue out to the hero. “Ish my tongue black?”

“It’s not.” Eraserhead says. “Well, you’re past the window for the kick-in, so either this bullet didn’t have Trigger in it, or… You know what, no, I’m not even going to consider that idea. C’mon, kid, let’s get you to the hospital.”

“No! No hospital!”

“You’ve been shot. You’re going to the hospital.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Izuku replies, sitting up. He ignores the pain that explodes in his abdomen again, but it’s not as intense as it was moments ago? “I heal fast.”

Eraserhead blinks at him, and then pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of course you do. But you still should get checked out—”

“And, what, get caught for vigilantism? Thanks for the concern Eraserhead, but I’m not that dumb.” Standing is a little tricky, and floating is a little harder. “I’ll just sleep it off, I’ll probably be fine by the end of the week.”

“Phantom, wait—”

But it’s too late. Izuku disappears, ignoring the pain that explodes in both his core and his stomach, before flying off home as fast as he can. At least Eraserhead gave him really nice bandages. A lot nicer than the stuff Izuku has in the first aid kid in his bathroom.

✨👻✨

“Good evening!” Hirata Ani likes to think of herself as quite punctual, once she completes a job for a client. She arrives at the dinky bar in Hosu after sticking around for just a moment to watch the remaining chaos from the three civilians she shot with Trigger. Endeavor was on scene, and he’d burned one of the poor souls pretty severely.

Oh, and that vigilante kid. Phantom. She wanted to see what sort of damage he could cause on Trigger, but she didn’t want to stay too late. She had a job to do, after all.

The gentleman made of void—Kurogiri, he had been introduced as—and the man-child Shigaraki Tomura are both sitting at the bar. Shigaraki is drinking some sort of non-alcoholic mocktail, not one that Ani can recognize.

“You’re back, already?” Shigaraki asks.

“I like to get my jobs done fast and efficiently.” Ani explains, setting the gun down on the bar. “I would have liked to keep the Trigger bullets, they were quite handy.”

“You used all four?”

Ani nods. “Had to. That little Phantom punk got in the way.” She pauses. “I wonder how he’s doing now.” She did feel a little bit of guilt for shooting a child, but, well, that pro-hero Eraserhead was right with him. He could get the little gremlin the antidote quickly, and he’d probably have to go to the hospital, so that’d be one less vigilante on the streets.

“Well, no matter. You got the item Sensei requested, didn’t you?” Shigaraki ask, scratching feverishly at his neck.

Ani drops the thick journal on the bar, next to the gun. “I don’t know what your boss wants with this old journal, but got it in one piece.”

“Perfect.” Kurogiri speaks before the man-child can. “We will have the remaining funds deposited in the account you gave us tomorrow morning.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna join our raid party, Sakura?” Shigaraki adds. “We could use a rouge like you.”

“I told you before, Shigaraki. I’m a thief, I’m not a fighter.” Ani retorts, crossing her arms. Her Quirk, Whip, could be used pretty effectively for fighting, but she never saw the point in fighting. If she could be quick, get in and out of a place, why would she need to fight? “I’m not against working with you all again, though. If you have anything else you need me to swipe, you’ve got my contact information.

“We will pass along the sentiment. Thank you for your work, Sakura.” Kurogiri says. “I am sure our master will contact you if we need your assistance again.”

Ani was sure about that, too.

Chapter Text

Izuku was hoping that Trigger wouldn’t affect him at all. If it impacts Quirk Factors, and Izuku’s core is 100x a Quirk Factor, then by all accounts, it should work similarly to Quirk-suppressants. Hardly impact him, if anything. Maybe it’d be just a little, five-second boost that he wouldn’t even notice, because he’s already high on the ghostly equivalent of adrenaline as he gets out of Eraserhead’s sight.

But of course, since it’s Izuku, it’s gotta be weird.

Once he gets into his apartment again, making sure his mom is still asleep before he detransforms, Izuku checks on the gunshot wound in the bathroom. Despite changing, he’s still covered in a bit of ectoplasm. Not all of it changes to blood when he transforms, it seems, but ectoplasm comes off easily, so he’s not too worried. What shocks him the most is when he unrolls his bandages, there isn’t a wound.

Um.

What?

There’s not even a scratch or a dent where the bullet tore through his stomach. A bit of dried ectoplasmic goop is caked into his skin, and it would be an easy thing to wash off, but there’s not a single mark where he’d been shot.

Which is… That’s interesting. He unwinds the bandages completely before wrapping them in a wad of toilet paper and dropping them underneath the trash already in his bathroom’s trash can. While his mother’s salary wasn’t much, in comparison to most other people’s, it could at least afford an apartment with two bathrooms, which was good for Izuku and his vigilantism. He could take the trash out unsuspiciously in the morning and his mom would be none the wiser about his nightly activities.

Now that he’s at home and can breathe though, Izuku does notice something odd, too. There’s no fatigue or sleepiness taking ahold of his brain after a long patrol out. He’s just as awake and alert as he was before his patrol, or like he’d slept in a little later on one of his non-patrol nights. In fact, it feels more like Izuku downed a cup of caffeinated tea or coffee, with how awake he is.

Trigger? He wonders, as he changes quickly into his pajamas. Of course, Trigger wouldn’t work on someone without a Quirk Factor. The drug attaches to the Quirk Factor through some science (which Izuku is probably going to look up now, he’s curious) and increases the strength of a person’s Quirk with the downside of it being too strong for a person to handle. He imagined that Trigger would affect him similarly to any Quirk-suppressants he’d dealt with from the police force—it would barely work on him, and if it did, Izuku would be able to get away without it getting too dangerous. It would have to be a hundred times’ stronger to actually affect him.

But maybe… Izuku crawls under the covers of his bed, but he stares up at the ceiling, his mind running miles at a second.

The night that he had gotten involved in the first Trigger deal, he hadn’t kept too close of an eye on the drug in the case, after getting Junji Rei’s story. The only thing he could remember about Trigger is that the small vials were green. They weren’t ectoplasmic green, or if they were, they didn’t have that signature glow that Izuku quickly got used to after getting shot twice already on patrols, but the fact that they were green itself, couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

Could Trigger be ectoplasm-based? It’s what makes the most sense; Izuku’s theory of the formation of Quirks is sounding more and more likely as he learns about his own ghostly nature. Normal Quirked people would have a bad reaction to ectoplasm due to their small, 1/100^th of a core rejecting ectoplasm, but Izuku? Izuku has a core.

He makes his own ectoplasm, he’s a whole generator at this point for his own natural energy, so if Trigger was somehow ectoplasmic in nature—

I should test this, he thinks, closing his eyes. But how? Should I—

No. Stupid, idiot, dumb brain. Izuku is not going to use the remainder of his money from the beach cleaning to purchase the most dangerous drug on the streets to use on himself. What if something goes horribly wrong, and he just lucked out this time and didn’t actually get Trigger in his system, or if the thief Sakura was lying about there actually being trigger so she could get away? He can’t be stopped by normal heroes. Izuku isn’t sure he can actually be killed anymore, at this rate.  

But how else am I supposed to know what it actually does to me? The curiosity in him shifts, a bit, and his core churns at the thought. What if it’s what healed me?

That’d be ironic.

Trigger, the most dangerous drug on the streets, being able to heal Izuku.

… Knowing his luck, that’d be exactly what it does to him.

✨👻✨

“Oh, geez, Shouta. What wrong side of bed did you wake up on this morning?”

Shouta ignores Hizashi’s snide comment when he walks into the staff office the following morning. He’s got the largest to-go cup of coffee on the market in one hand, and graded papers from his Ethics class underneath his other arm that isn’t even set to be handed back until the end of the week. He’s sure his eyebags are darker than normal, and he’d hardly brushed his hair before he left his apartment that morning to get to his day job.

He'd been up too late, tormented with thoughts about Phantom. It didn’t seem that the kid had too much Trigger in his system—or maybe, thanks to his weird anatomy, it didn’t affect him at all, which doesn’t make sense, because Trigger affects a Quirk Factor in the same way that Shouta’s own Quirk does.

“I don’t have a Quirk,” Phantom had told him, once.

If he doesn’t have a Quirk, then—what else could he have? What else could he be?

“Didn’t go to bed.” Shouta responds with a huff. He’s glad he keeps a spare sleeping bag in the staff office for days like this. He could get to 1-A, make sure his kids don’t cause too much chaos during homeroom, and nap until lunchtime. He sets down the coffee cup and the graded papers on his desk.

“You look like you just rolled out of your grave. No offense, Shou.” Hizashi’s incessant nicknames aren’t even annoying him this morning. That’s probably a bad sign.

“Just a case.” Shouta responds. He’s not sure that there’s any rule to him sharing information about the Musutafu Phantom’s case with other heroes. Typically, cases that involve villains or vigilantes are an open book for any hero, limelight or underground, to read into, to get the most feet on the ground to stop the vigilantes. Only civilians weren’t able to access some of that stuff. But the daytime heroes weren’t going to pursue vigilantes who mostly acted at night, and the underground heroes wouldn’t even go too far in these cases unless the vigilante started to become a threat.

All Phantom had done so far was—well, all good stuff. With abilities like his, he could be a formidable villain, especially given the fact that Quirk suppressants don’t work. They didn’t know what his weaknesses were, or if he even had a weakness. But Phantom’s case is a little different, a little more sensitive, due to the fact that they might be dealing with a minor committing acts of vigilantism, which makes the case a very specific case indeed. It’s not that Shouta can’t share more information; he doesn’t want to, because Shouta knows that if any of the big-time heroes get involved in the case, someone is going to get hurt, badly.

“Ugh. I know how bad cases can get sometimes. If you need anyone to vent to, you know I’m here, right, Shou?” Hizashi smiles—a genuine one, not his usual, over-the-top, too bright to be real smile—and pats Shouta on the back, gently.

And Shouta knows, that, yes, he technically does have friends. Hizashi, Nemuri and even Tensei would all throw down whatever they’re working on to help him. Bringing Tensei in on the Phantom case might not be that bad of an idea, he had to deal with Crawler for a whole until they were able to finally get him into a program that would “rehabilitate” him (and also work on getting him a proper license so he could be a proper hero), so Tensei has the experience. Nemuri might be able to help, too, if Shouta wasn’t sure that Phantom saw the act of breathing as merely optional. Tsukauchi might not even object to them being brought on.

Eh, he’ll ask them about it later.

He has a group of twenty students to wrangle together. They’ve got a field trip next week, and Shouta was dreading it a little bit. 

✨👻✨

Trigger Experiment No. 1 (Hopefully I only have to do one for now)

Hypothesis: Trigger is a form of synthetic ectoplasm.

Results:

After using Trigger following a minor injury, it completely healed me and gave me a bit of a boost of energy. After a bit of research, I have discovered Trigger’s official drug name is “Ectopinephrine”, which is a synthetic ectoplasm based off of human adrenaline. Knowing how most people react to being injected with ectoplasm, it seems like it makes sense?

Of course, I can’t do a molecular comparison. I don’t have the equipment, and even if I did, I don’t know how long I could keep my own ectoplasm stable outside of my body long enough to get a good look at it. Maybe one day I’ll be able to actually figure it out, but I shouldn’t use Trigger for minor wounds like this. I’m healed, feel like I’ve had six cups of coffee to drink.

The larger the wound, the less I’ll probably feel the energy boost, probably? Seems likely.

I don’t want to do any more experimentation like this, but I think I can safely conclude the following;

• Trigger is a synthetic ectoplasm.
• I am able to use it to heal myself up in a pinch.
• Keep a vial of trigger in the bottom of my first aid kit.

If I ever were to get hurt enough, I can use Trigger to keep myself alive. Or as alive I could hope to be.

I really hope my mom doesn’t find this notebook.

✨👻✨

“Eraser-san! How’re the kids treating you?”

Shouta would normally have to resist the urge to groan upon hearing the voice of the vigilante Phantom, but right now—he couldn’t be happier. It’d been a few days since the kid had gone radio silent on his end, and nobody had heard from Phantom since he’d gotten shot by Trigger. The only reported interaction was from a Trigger dealer, who said a kid who looked like Phantom approached him asking for Trigger, but he couldn’t remember much of the interaction due to memory issues. Because of course.

But the vigilante appearing out of the blue right in front of Shouta—as much as it makes him nearly drop his coffee out of surprise—settles something that’d been bubbling underneath his skin for the last few days.

“Phantom. You’ve been gone for a bit. Are you alright?”

“Wh—huh?” The kid freezes mid-air, arms drooping. “Um. Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“The last time anyone had actually seen you, you had been shot with a bullet laced with Trigger.” Shouta explains, setting his coffee down. He’s sitting on the ledge of a building—actually taking a break for once, Hizashi can’t get on his ass for taking a break now—but he pushes himself up to be on eye-level with the child vigilante. The problem child. “And you pointedly refused to go to the hospital.”

He looked fine—in fact, Phantom didn’t even look like he had been shot just a few days prior.

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about that.”

How do you almost forget about being shot? Shouta thinks, and then stops, remembering all the times he can’t remember even getting shot or being stabbed until after the perpetrator got arrested, and he realized he was bleeding. Nevermind. I’m an exception here, obviously.

“Did you get help for it, or are you on your own?”

“I—no, I didn’t get help, but not for the reason you thought!” Phantom waves his hands in the air nervously. “By the time I got back to my ap—back to my house, all was well! I told you I heal fast.”

Even the fastest healing Quirks couldn’t fix up a bullet wound like that overnight. Phantom even raised his shirt to show, look, no wound, no scar, nothing to prove it, which did settle his nerves a bit more, but it still didn’t make sense. It’s hard to tell if and when Phantom lies, because it seems like everything he says has both a lie to it and a grain of truth mixed together.

He’s lying about not having a Quirk, obviously; but he’s telling the truth about it, at the same time. Someone must have raised him to believe his Quirk was something else, something inhuman—and if Shouta got his hands on them—

Whoa. Whoa. No need for him to get too attached to the vigilante right now. He needs to stay logical about everything, even if Shouta wants to take Phantom out of the streets and shove him into a U.A. uniform so he can at least learn how to be a hero properly, if he so badly wants to do this.

“I am going to trust you this time, but if you get hurt while you’re out here, come find me, alright?” Shouta says, picking up his coffee before he accidentally knocks it over the edge of the roof. “If you don’t want to go to a hospital, I can take you somewhere else if you need it.”

“Aw, really? You do care, Eraser-san!”

I need you to trust me, Shouta thinks. I need you to trust me so I can stop you from risking your life like this right now. I need you to trust me.

“Anyway, you never answered my question! How’s your class this year?”

“They are… Fine, and none of your business.” Shouta is curious to know how exactly Phantom knows that he’s a teacher. It’s not like it’s exactly public information. While he doesn’t have a secret identity as Eraserhead, formidable underground pro-hero, the staff page on U.A.’s website doesn’t list all of the staff and teachers, due to privacy concerns. He’s sure he’s not on there, or he’s going to have to go hunt down the principal to see if anything changed.

There is a possibility—an ironic possibility—that Phantom is a U.A. student. Perhaps someone in General Education? Vlad does have a girl in his class, Shouta’s blanking on her name, whose Quirk is Poltergeist, a medium-strength telekinetic Quirk, but unless she hasn’t registered the truth about her Quirk legally, there’s no what that Phantom is that girl. But there’s a possibility he’s a student nonetheless.

But it doesn’t make sense. If he is a student, why is he risking his life out at night as a vigilante? Even if he is a General Education student, it doesn’t make sense why he would take that risk.

“Fine?” The vigilante lands onto the building, next to him. “Wow, mighty praise for Mr. ‘I Expelled My Entire Class Last Year’. There’s no issues, at all?”

“How do you even know I teach?” How do you even know I expelled my entire class?

“I have my ways!” Phantom says, very clearly smirking underneath his mask.

Well, that explains absolutely nothing. If Phantom isn’t a U.A. student, he must be friends with one of them. Hopefully as a civilian, though, knowing his class, Shouta wouldn’t be surprised if any of them were brave or stupid enough to befriend a vigilante.

 “I said, none of your business.” Unless you join them, one day, Shouta wants to add, but keeps his mouth shut, taking a sip of his coffee. “Is that all you need from me?”

“Actually, no, I wanted to show you something!” Phantom said, pushing himself back up into the air.

Flight Quirks are incredibly rare in this day and age. Some heroes, of course, could fly as a result of their Quirk—All Might can take huge leaps and cross over cities in seconds without breaking a sweat, current number-three hero Hawks is, obviously, a bird heteromorph, so his wings help him fly. But a Flight quirk with no strings attached, like with Phantom, where he can just disregard the laws of gravity, something like that has to be registered somewhere, right? With how easily he does it, maybe the police search needs to narrow down on anti-gravity Quirks as well. Even if it's mistaken to be a small floating ability, it could be a clue.

Phantom floats back a few feet, before landing on the ground again. He stretches out his arms in front of him, and closes his eyes tightly, focusing on… Something. Shouta’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, until he sees it. It flickers a bit, but eventually, a solid dome made of some sort of green energy (the same color as Phantom’s blood, the color that’s been haunting Shouta’s dreams a bit since the kid got shot) materializes around him.

“Cool, huh?” His voice echoes strangely in the dome as Phantom drops his arms, and lets the energy dissipate.  

Shouta tries to ignore the awful feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. Phantom’s clearly excited to show him this. “How in the world did you do that?”

His Quirk lets him walk through walls, disappear, and fly. We thought we were looking for an atomic manipulation Quirk, but—is it possible it’s some sort of energy-based Quirk? But that makes no sense, either way—what is this kid’s Quirk?

“I just closed my eyes, and—”

“I’m not asking you literally, kid.” Shouta clarifies. “Your Quirk— what exactly is it?”

“I told you, Eraser-san, I don’t have a Quirk.”

Shouta rolls his eyes. This again. He’s sure they’re dealing with a kid who was told his mutant-type Quirk made him something other, something inhuman, his whole life, and Phantom’s probably internalized it. But maybe it’d be better to play along with it? “Okay, sure—you don’t have a Quirk. Then how are you doing all of… this?”

“That’s easy. I’m a ghost!”

But ghosts—they don’t exist, Shouta wants to say, but again, this seems to be something that Phantom has deeply internalized. “You’re a ghost, then. But what does that have to do with the energy shield you just made?”

Phantom takes a second to think about it. “I actually haven’t taken a second to think about that, yet. But I guess—the shields are clearly based off my own ectoplasmic energy, so maybe it’s not just specifically shields then, maybe it’s just a subsect of manipulating my own ectoplasmic energy instead?” Phantom turns on his heel, his back facing Shouta for a second. “I wonder…” He stretches just his left arm out this time.

Shouta approaches slowly, but he keeps a little distance between himself and the vigilante. What is Phantom doing?

Before he can ask anything, a burst of light explodes from the palm of Phantom’s left hand and hits the brick of the building next to them. Luckily these buildings are abandoned and vacant, or an unfortunate scorch mark would have been left in the side of someone’s apartment complex.

And it’s smoking. Whatever energy Phantom had just shot out from his hand hit the brick building next to them and left a small, smoking crater. In the brick.

Holy shit. What kind of powerhouse is this kid? He might be stronger than All Might.

“Yes! I was right. It’s just basic ectoplasmic manipulation, then.” He leans forward, a bit. “I probably shouldn’t use that attack on humans, I really don’t wanna know what that could do to someone’s skin.”

Well. Shit.

Shouta buries the feeling in his stomach again—his gut is telling him it’s fear, which is reasonable. The Quirk Singularity Theory has been around for a few years now, debates on whether Quirks are going to be one day too strong for a mortal body to handle are getting tiring at this point, but he feels like when he looks at Phantom, Shouta can see the theory in real life. But Phantom’s body is built to handle all the Quirks—

Oh, god. Could Phantom be an experiment, sent out by villains? Clearly if they were looking to cause chaos, it isn’t working, given how incredibly helpful Phantom is as a vigilante. But maybe he’d escaped from experimentation, and that’s why he doesn’t recognize he has a Quirk, and thinks he’s something other?

But who could put so many Quirks into a small child, and why would they do that?

“Eraser-san? Are you okay?”

“Just thinking of the paperwork I have to do when I get off my patrol.” Shouta replies quickly. It’s only a bit of a lie—he does have paperwork to fill out, and tests to grade. At the look of Phantom’s panicked face, he adds, “Nothing about you this time, Problem Child. It’s a quiet night, why don’t you call it a night and get home?”

“Okay, yeah. I’ve probably been out—uh, yeah, I can call it a night!” Phantom stumbles over his words. “Have a great night, Eraser-san!”

“Get to bed, problem child!”

“I will, and—oh, wait, you work at U.A., don’t you?”

“…Yes?”

“I meant to tell someone about this when it happened last week, but all this Trigger stuff took over my life. Uh, I got asked by some villain guy out at a bar in Hosu to join a team he’s making to kill All Might. Obviously, I said no, but I just wanted to pass that along.”

Kill All Might? Well, many groups get up in arms to try and take down the number-one hero every day. The threats aren’t really that serious. Shouta’s seen what the man can do; even as injured as he is now (and now that Shouta knows this, too), he hates to admit it, but it’s impressive, and even though All Might is weaker now, he’s not weak enough to be taken down by a group.

Still, a group that had asked a vigilante to join is concerning…

“Thanks, kid. I’ll pass it along.” Tsukauchi’s going to get a very long call after this.

“Okay, great! See you later, Eraser-san!” Phantom takes off into the night sky like a bullet. He’s visible, still, which makes him look like a shooting star arcing across the clear night sky.

Hopefully they’re getting a little closer to uncovering Phantom’s identity now.

Chapter Text

As the second week of the new school year rolls around, it’s time for what Shouta has been dreading the most. The field trip.

Of course, he didn’t see much of this sort of action last year. He helped chaperone Vlad King’s field trip to the USJ the previous year, but it was mostly self-sufficient. Once Thirteen got ahold of the class, he and Vlad watched from the observation decks as they led class 1-B through the different simulations. It was less of a practical demonstration, and more of a tour.

This year, though; Shouta actually has a class. That he needs to watch over. He actually has to do his job. It doesn't help that most of the U.A. staff is still on edge after the media break-in a few days prior.

It reeked of something. One section of the tall wall that surrounds campus had been completely decayed; dust by the time Shouta discovered it, hours after the last journalist was rounded up by the police officers and taken away for questioning. The vultures stomped through the moment they could; as comedic as it was, it caused such a massive headache.

He glances over his class as they shuffle onto the bus. Yayorozu was an excellent class representative, and Iida Tenya was, while overbearing, a great vice-representative. Class 1-A hadn’t had major pitfalls so far, or any pitfalls that Shouta was aware of, though he had been keeping an eye on Mineta Minoru after hearing some unsavory rumors about his attitude around his female classmates.

Shinsou Hitoshi, his little protégé, even though he would never call the boy that, was fitting in as well. A little awkward and shy, he’d found himself surrounded by Uraraka Ochako and the aforementioned Iida Tenya. A strange group of friends, but there was a familiarity to it that made his heart ache.

No. He should focus. He sits in the seat at the front and closes his eyes. Not quite a nap—he’s still able to overhear conversation behind him.

“I don’t think Bakugou will be a very good hero.” Tsuyu Asui speaks her mind, always. Shouta is baffled by the bravery of her blunt statement and has to stifle a chuckle under his breath with a cough.

“What’s that supposed to mean, frog-face?” Bakugou Katsuki yells.

“See?” Tsuyu says, casually, unafraid of the blond’s insults.

“I’ll take you on!”

“Please, you’ll fight anyone.” Despite the bristling of the blond boy and his explosive personality, he doesn’t really own the class like he thinks he should. Kirishima Eijiro says the last statement.

“I’ll fight you, too! I’ll take you both on!”

“You already have, bro!” The bus erupts into laughter. Not all of it is nervous laughter.

“Keep it down.” Shouta says, clearing his throat. “We’ve got five minutes until we get there, and I don’t want to have to ask again.”

The bus goes silent. A few awkward mumbles and yes, sensei, echo through the crowd. Shouta keeps his eye on Bakugou, who glares back at him.

That might be a problem.

Most of his class is rather good. There are doubts, of course, with some of his students. Yayorozu Momo needs to be more assertive. Todoroki Shouto seems to avoid using half of his quirk, to his detriment. Shinsou needs to break out of his shell more. Bakugou Katsuki is… well, pretty similar to his Quirk. A rather explosive personality. Mineta Minoru is very obviously not cut out for the hero’s life. It’d be nice if the boy dropped out before Shouta had to expel him, expelling students is a lot of paperwork, and then—

No. Shouta shakes the thought away. Though, he can’t deny how beneficial having Phantom join Class 1-A would be on both ends. Phantom could still learn how to be a hero, could focus on all the good he can do in the world, without worrying about getting dragged into Trigger drug deals gone bad, getting killed for recklessness, and his record could get wiped clean.

That is, if Phantom would ever consider it. The vigilante seems to have distaste for many things with hero society. Not so much on the rumored Hero Killer’s level, but it was pretty high for a vigilante, all things considered.

Shouta is the first one to notice when they arrive at USJ. USJ—the Unforseen Simulation Joint—is a marvel on U.A.’s campus. Well, technically, it was a sister campus to U.A. The building was a good few miles out of Musutafu, but still close enough to U.A. that one could conceivably walk to USJ if they wished to, only about five kilometers away from the main campus. The entire facility is run by U.A., but rented out by other schools for rescue training for their own hero students. One of the many ways U.A. is able to keep up with its students without bleeding money, among other things.

He shuffles off the bus before his students, meeting Thirteen at the front door. He hadn’t seen the Space Hero, Kurose Anan, since the school year started, but even though their face is obscured by their helmet, Shouta can still see the confusion from them.

As the students try their best to follow Iida’s instructions to get off the bus in an orderly fashion, Kurose looks at Shouta. “Wasn’t All Might supposed to be here?”

Shouta sighs. Ever since he learned the truth about All Might, and his deflated form—a requisite for any staff members at U.A., once the number one hero had been hired—it felt like a headache on top of a headache. Of course the number one hero in all of Japan, the symbol of peace himself, had a limit with his Quirk, now, and was slowly getting weaker. “Idiot ran out of time earlier.”

“Senpai, that isn’t very nice.” Kurose says, crossing her arms. “But, well—I suppose he was only going to stand back and watch, so his presence isn’t required. If the students get into any trouble, we should be able to help them out ourselves.”

Yeah, Shouta was expecting that. His class was a troublesome bunch of hell spawn. Whatever they had fed this generation, he wanted no part in, no thank you—he’s definite that Phantom is around their age as well, given that he acts pretty identical to Shouta’s students.

Eventually, Class 1-A groups up in front of the USJ doors, and Kurose can start her usual speech as they walk in.

If only he’d known what were about to happen.

✨👻✨

This is a bad idea, this is a bad idea, this is a bad idea! Izuku’s thoughts couldn’t stop screaming at him, as he held his breath. Even though he doesn’t need to breathe in his ghost form, it still felt like one small mistake, one small mistep, and the villains around him would realize that he wasn’t supposed to be here, and start attacking him instead.

When that man—Shigaraki, Izuku learned easily—approached him a few nights into Izuku’s school year, offering him a job to get back at the symbol of peace, Izuku wanted to brush it off as a random wannabe villain that wanted to kill All Might. There’d been many of them before, and will be many until All Might eventually retires (which, Izuku wished desperately, was soon), and probably after it, as well.

He'd told Eraserhead last week that this is going to happen, but the pro-hero didn't seem to feel the sense of urgency. And he's not sure why they would, given the fact that All Might has probably dealt with many death threats every single day since he'd first debuted, but there was something not sitting right in Izuku's core. And it wasn't just the curiosity driving him, this time, Izuku didn't know what it was, but something felt wrong.

Over the last week, things had started getting more… concerning, too. He doesn’t like diving into the underworld around Musutafu that much, even though he knows he should as a vigilante it’s his responsibility to help people, and he’s trying to see how he can bring some of these low-level villains out of the darkness and into rehabilitation programs, but he’d overheard someone talking about an offer of a lot of money to go with the man Shigaraki, and, hey, Izuku hadn’t been offered any money!

What the hell, man? That is so not fair! Maybe Izuku would've been more interested in listening to the leader Shigaraki's plans if the man had started with the offer of payment first.

Well, not that Izuku would've taken it-- he didn't wish for the hero to die. It'd be a bit hypocritical of Izuku, of all people. All Might is just a bit of a Quirkist, but who isn’t in this society?

So Izuku made an executive decision that day. Most of his online classes were a breeze to get through, and he was weeks ahead, so he could skip one day and figure out what Shigaraki was up to. What his plan was to “kill All Might”. It was an infiltration mission. Izuku would sneak in, figure out what Shigaraki was up to, and pass the information on to the police and other heroes.

It’s his first time, though, and he’s nervous, and even though Izuku’s keeping it together and keeping himself invisible and intangible, he still feels like one small move is going to out him, and he’s going to have an army of low-rate villains at his neck ready to kill him.

Well, maybe not kill. Just briefly incapacitate him. Izuku isn’t quite sure if he can die again—but those are issues for future Izuku to panic about. Now, he needs to focus, as the warp-man from before expands, and the low-rate villains begin pouring through to the other side.

Izuku’s gotta focus.

This isn’t just a meeting. No, no, no—it’s something much worse.

Shigaraki has gathered an army. And, with very little plan, he’s already sending them on an attack.

An attack? To who? But where? He grabs ahold of a scarf of an unsuspecting villain, holding tightly as they follow their friends through the warp gate villain, and to the other side.

It’s…

Izuku feels everything in him run cold. They come to in a small plaza, where there’s a pleasant little fountain for decoration. Paths spread out in every direction, to small enclosures. He recognizes this place. He’s at the USJ—the Unforeseen Simulation Joint—just a few miles out of Musutafu. Part of U.A.’s campus, where they focused on teaching rescue work.

And right up the stairs, by the main entrance, is a class.

They’re attacking a class. Izuku lets go of the scarf of the villain, pushing himself quietly into the air, above everything. The small class is outnumbered by the villains, at least ten to one, not even including the two teachers, who are—Shit, this is Eraserhead’s class. Shit, shit, shit.

Which means—Izuku spots a spiky-haired blond in the back, with large grenade gauntlets around his arms. Give it to Bakugou to keep the idea he had when they were kids about the large, sweat-containing gauntlets. Izuku hopes he’ll never see the wrong end of those things. He also spots a familiar mess of violet hair. Shinsou, too.

Can’t this get any worse?!

The warp villain settles down into his more humanoid form, the shape Izuku remembers from the bar the other night. Shigaraki, covered in the weird hands (Izuku doesn’t even want to ask about that, he didn’t have those hands before), crosses his arms, as he looks on the crowd.

“Thirteen and Eraserhead? That’s odd. We were informed that All Might was supposed to be present today as well.” The shadow villain’s voice booms across the plaza.

Plan to kill All Might. Yep, this is the worst. Izuku’s eyes flicker from the villains, to the two heroes, and the students behind them.

“Where is he?!” Shigaraki yells, scratching violently at his neck. “I went through all the trouble of bringing the cavalry, I got everyone gathered and ready to go, and he doesn’t even show his face.” He pauses and takes a deep breath, and speaks at a normal register, tilting his head to the shadow villain. “Kurogiri, I wonder if he’ll come if we kill some kids.”

Alright, well. Izuku came here to just do some information gathering. He wasn’t expecting a full-out invasion on U.A.’s grounds.

But, hey. Izuku’s not a vigilante for nothing. And with Eraserhead so outnumbered—he knows that Eraserhead has taken on many before, he’s seen it in action and it’s so cool!—surely the pros won’t mind an extra helping hand to deal with this issue.

Eraserhead jumps off the steps without hesitation, shooting down into the main plaza to deal with the villains. Thirteen—oh, so cool, Thirteen is here! Wait, focus, Izuku, focus—backs away with the students, pushing them back towards the entrance. The two pros communicated between themselves without words what the plan would be; Thirteen would get the students to safety, Eraserhead would take on the cavalry and buy them time. So cool!

Speaking of entrances. Izuku ought to make his now, too. He lets himself become visible again and drops to the ground in the middle of the fighting, creating a small impact crater in the process. Two villains by him go flying into others, and a few of the group turn to face him.

“Hey, asshole! Watch what you’re—” One of the villains starts, but Izuku doesn’t stop, instead; he runs to the villain and decks them right in the face with his right hand.

It starts off a chain reaction. A few villains near him try and jump him, but they’re not thinking through a strategy very well. The fortunate thing about this situation is that Shigaraki’s army is nothing more than a collection of low-level villains and thugs who are in it for the money. Some might get gratification out of killing and fighting, too, but the majority of them are in it for the money, and there’s no plan to it, other than being the distraction. The bait. The bodies for Shigaraki to climb atop on to get to his end goal.

We’re going to kill All Might!

Izuku easily goes intangible, and the three villains go flying into each other. Pathetically easy knockouts.

“W-Wait a second, that’s—”

Izuku disappears, easily weaving through the crowds of villains, before getting to Eraserhead’s side. A villain is going for the pro’s back, but Izuku reaches out and pops out an ecto-shield behind him, appearing seconds later.

“Hey, Eraser-san! Need a hand?”

Eraserhead grunts. It’s one that’s a little full of surprise. Izuku is sure he’s thinking, You’re here? What the hell? Luckily for Izuku, reading minds is not one of his specialties. That’d be too much for him.

(That he knows of. He’s trying to ignore the possible empathetic abilities growing from deep within his core.)

“Should I even be surprised you’re here?” Eraserhead grunts, as his capture weapon wraps around the legs of a villain charging him, and he swings her around, knocking away three others in the process.

Izuku ducks under the villain, creating another ecto-shield and pushing it towards a large group of them, knocking them away easily. “Well, I didn’t intend to come here, if that makes it any better!” He responds with a toothy grin.

They fall into sync pretty quickly, despite only having worked in a few fights like this. It’s easy to pick up on Eraserhead’s little quirks and glances. Though his Quirk doesn’t quite work on Izuku, he does feel a little pinprick on the back of his neck every time Eraserhead glances his way with his Quirk active. A small, nonverbal warning of look out, here it comes, behind you.

They’re still outnumbered, the two of them. Surrounded, on all ends.

It’s too easy for the warp villain—Kurogiri, he heard the name—to disappear.

Shit—the warp villain!

Chapter Text

Shouta keeps his eyes on Phantom, even as the vigilante blinks in and out of visibility. It isn’t much; he knows that he can’t stop his Quirk, and nothing probably can stop that powerhouse of a problem child, but it’s still nice to know that there’s someone else out there trying to help, even if he’s technically breaking the law to do so.

And probably going to give him gray hairs much earlier than he needs to get them. Hizashi is going to make fun of him for sure.

Just looking into some stuff, huh? Shouta thinks, grunting as he wraps his capture weapon around a villain, and throws her off into the distance. They’re trying to overwhelm Shouta with numbers, so he can’t get out and try and find his students, his kids. The warp villain disappeared, and took them who knows where, at this point. Hopefully they would all be within the building, still. Hopefully they would all be okay, safe, and alive. They're hero students, of course-- they're going to have to deal with villains soon enough-- but not now. Not in their first year of high school.

But they'll be fine. They're strong. They have strong Quirks, they can protect themselves and each other.

He spots the vigilante in the distance, again, hood fallen off to reveal a head of curly white hair. Why is Phantom still here?

Of course, he appreciates the help from the vigilante, as irritating as the kid could be sometimes. Poking his nose around in things such as this, without even thinking of consequences, is incredibly reckless. He could get killed doing that. But why hasn’t Phantom left? His Quirk is what gets him easily out of situations, with his powers that let him mimic a ghost. What's the point in a vigilante staying for a fight like this?

Though, what kind of ghost can summon energy shields? That’s still strange for Shouta, and he'd seen it in action a few days ago. When the vigilante had warned him there's a villainous group setting out to kill All Might.

And strange that just a few days after Phantom's warning, a group attacks one of All Might's classes to kill the man. It's happenstance that they're not here-- it's pure chance that the man had used up his time heroing on his way to work that he wouldn't be able to hold his stupid hero form for the two hour field trip they'd scheduled for the day. Shouta had sent the message along, but clearly, the hero had dealt with so many death threats that something like this-- a brazen attack on a U.A. campus-- would be laughed at.

As if, but here they are, fighting against a brazen attack.

Still, he can’t bother to think too much about anything other than the villains around him. One distraction, one small thought to pull his attention away, and someone could die. He needs to narrow his focus—on the main villain, the one at the front, covered in hands. Shigaraki, Phantom had called him. With Phantom taking a brunt of the villains attacking them, Shouta can get his shot in at Shigaraki and end this for good.

The villain army isn’t that strong or unified. Once they’re down, most of them aren’t trying to get back up. No order, just a mess of chaos, like they’d been put together last-minute.

Now. Phantom pushes aside a villain behind him, and Shouta sprints for Shigaraki. It’s easy to wrap his capture weapon around the man’s arm and pull him down from the small ledge he stood upon, watching the chaos unfold in front of him. He stabs his elbows into his rib cage, which gets a grunt from the man, but it doesn’t seem like he’s just the leader. There’s some fight in him, too.

Fine. I’ll still take him out.

“You know, it’s hard to see because you keep moving around, but there’s a second where your hair falls.” The villain chuckles, grabbing tightly onto Shouta’s elbow. “For a hero like yourself, you should really work on your weaknesses, shouldn’t you?”

Don’t blink, don’t blink—his eyes are so dry. It’s burning, it’s burning, he’s trying to ignore the burning, but Shouta has to blink, and he does. It’s only a second of brief relief, but it’s enough for Shigaraki’s Quirk to activate, as he wraps all of his fingers around Shouta’s elbow and the fabric begins to turn to ash, followed shortly by his skin.

Shit. He doesn’t even think, he goes for the cheapest shot he can get (just a little above the villain’s crotch, he should’ve aimed lower) and jumps back. The flesh on his elbow has all but decayed, exposing delicate red muscle underneath. It isn’t the worst wound he’s ever experienced, but it’s not a walk in the park, as every small movement in his arm explodes into pain.

“Eraserhead—” He hears Phantom yell, but it’s distant.

“You’re not good at this, are you, Eraserhead? You’re the sort of player that’s good at surprise attacks. Taking the enemy out quickly. Speed over defense.” Okay, the man is starting to lose Shouta with the analogies a bit. But so do all villains, after a while. Once they start monologuing, it’s usually the same thing. I’m going to rule the world, I’m going to destroy everything, yada yada yada.  “But even so, you still jumped in to take us out from the front. You and your little student over there. Do you think it’s noble, allowing your student to sacrifice himself for the rest of your team, like this?”

Shouta doesn’t think it’s worth responding to the villain, Shigaraki. He’s starting to spout nonsense. Phantom’s taken care of most of the villains in the plaza by himself (impressive), but there’s still a small line between him and Shouta. They’re attacking Phantom too quickly—nobody seems to really recognize Phantom as the vigilante.

“By the way, Eraserhead. I’m not the last boss.”

The shadow that had been standing right by Shigaraki—a large villain with a mutant-type Quirk that Shouta had barely focused on, since they had just been stood still the whole time—is right next to him now. The villain raises an arm, and—

The world goes dark.

✨👻✨

Izuku’s an idiot. He didn’t even take a glance towards the large villain that was standing by Shigaraki’s side like an obedient soldier. The whole time, standing perfectly still.

Why would he, if there were so many other villains around him? He had to help Eraserhead. He had to. He couldn’t let him down, if he was here, he had to help, Izuku has to help. His core feels like it’s about to burst inside of his chest, but the large villain moving at an amazing speed makes him freeze for a second, and that hesitation, that brief hesitation—Izuku will never, ever pause like that again in a battle, because villains have their arms around Izuku, pulling him back, as the large villain smashes Eraserhead’s face into the ground.

“Meet the Nomu!” Shigaraki says, laughing with glee as the villain—the Nomu—smashes their hand onto Eraserhead’s other elbow. Even from so far away, Izuku can hear a small crack as the bones shatter underneath.

No.

No, no, no, no—

It’s child’s play to break out of the grasp from the villains. Easy as intangibility. The villains should’ve expected it, but they stumble into each other once Izuku is free from their grasp, as he bolts across the plaza, straight for the Nomu.

“My Nomu is quite the creation, isn’t it?” Shigaraki taunts to Eraserhead. “Oh, it’s such a shame that All Might isn’t here to meet his shadow.”

As Izuku gets closer, he can feel something emanating from the Nomu. Something he’d written off before, but it feels—it feels strong. Something catches in his throat. It almost feels like his ghost sense is activating, but it isn’t quite there. But there’s a feeling—

PAIN-PAIN-PAIN-PAIN

--too many feelings—

PAIN-PAIN-PAIN-PAIN

--coming from the Nomu, as if it had a ghost core of its own.

Oh, whatever scientific nightmare the Nomu was, Izuku isn’t curious enough to unpack all of that now. He focuses on the target, and Izuku shoots himself at the Nomu, using his palms to knock the creature off of Eraserhead’s back, sending it flying a few feet away.

The Nomu stays still once the momentum stops, waiting for its next order. The pause gives Izuku a chance to look down at Eraserhead. He finds a pulse quickly, but it’s not as high as it should be. It’s slower-- not as slow as his human's heartrate, but still slow enough to be dangerous. Shit. I need to get you out of here. But how...?

“—What the hell? Who are—” Shigaraki balks, before his voice darkens. “You! I thought you were one of those NPC students, but you’re not. What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” Izuku yells back. He stands up from kneeling by Eraserhead.  “You tried to recruit me into your “kill All Might plan”, did you think I would just forget about it?”

Shigaraki growls at him but doesn’t respond.

“Oh, yeah, sure, I might hate hero society as much as the next vigilante, but it doesn’t mean I’m willing to kill people for it, Shigaraki.” Izuku adds. “You’re stupid if you think otherwise.”

“I don’t have time to deal with a cheater like you. Nomu! Kill him!”

Kill me? Ha! Izuku looks to his side, watching as the Nomu stands up and charges towards him. He braces for impact, summoning an ecto-shield from deep within his core. It isn’t strong enough; it cracks under the pressure from the Nomu’s fists, but it holds the Nomu in place long enough for Izuku to get a closer look at the creature. Tall, built like a brick house, with ink-black skin, and a beak. Muscly brain is exposed at the top of the creature's head-- a weakness or an oversight, Izuku didn't know, but what catches him off guard is what the Nomu sounds like. It doesn't make any verbal sound, but he can hear a song coming from deep within its chest, a song that resonates within Izuku's own core.

PAIN-PAIN-PAIN-PAIN

Quirks are just itty-bitty micro ghost cores. Every Quirked person has one, a roughly 1/100th of an actual ghost core, Izuku thinks, repeats in his head, like a mantra. Someone—or something—would need to be hundreds of times stronger than me to get my powers out of commission.

But he can look into the Nomu, and he sees it. Stitched together, somehow, he can see the tiny, itty bity Quirk factors, mushed together into a horrifying mess. There’s gotta be ten, maybe even twenty, Quirk Factors haphazardly sewn together, like a child's art project. It's uneven and sharp in some places, but even and smooth in other places-- completely chaotic. This is a science experiment, a creature made from life and death, just like—

Just like him.

Izuku pulses his core out to the creature. LET-ME-HELP

PAIN-PAIN-PAIN-PAIN

There’s too much going on within the Nomu to focus on one specific Quirk factor. It’s fighting too much inside, and on top of that, the Nomu only seems to listen to Shigaraki.

Izuku’s shield shatters, but he catches the Nomu’s fists with his hands.

“You’re strong, I’ll give you that, Phantom. But my Nomu is stronger than All Might. You are going to die!” Shigaraki says.

Izuku tries not to, but he laughs. He laughs loudly and proudly. He cranes his neck to look at Shigaraki, pushing back against the Nomu with all the strength he could. “You're wrong about that-- you can’t kill something that’s already dead!”

He pushes, and sends the Nomu flying across the plaza again. As it’s temporarily dazed, Izuku takes his time to dig his arms underneath Eraserhead’s body, and he picks him up. It’s a little awkward, because Izuku is still a pretty short teenager and Eraserhead is  a lanky full-grown man, but with his flight, it’s pretty easy to get high enough in the air and away from the Nomu.

But where should he go? There’s no guaranteed safe spot, and Izuku’s going to have take on the Nomu. He's probably the only one strong enough to do that, right now. But he doesn’t want Shigaraki or the large being made of multiple Quirks to have a shot and hurting Eraserhead even more. Then where...?

There. Across the plaza, Izuku can see three students emerging from the shipwreck zone. Most of the low-rate thugs are either out of commission from both Eraserhead and Izuku's combined efforts, or deciding that the tide is turning and they're trying to escape. Izuku shoots—carefully-- towards the students. One of them is Shinsou, which he recognizes, and he carefully falls back down to the ground to meet them halfway across the plaza.

✨👻✨

The day seemed to happen too fast. Hitoshi was ready for a nice little field trip. It was just to a place on the grounds, so technically, they didn’t need to fill out any permission slips for it. But he wishes that they had handed those out, and that his father maybe would’ve questioned it, and Hitoshi would have gone in more cynically, because maybe then, he would’ve been ready for the villain attack.

And there were so many of them. Aizawa-sensei took out a lot on his own, which is pretty cool, but Hitoshi got warped away from it before his class could escape. He ended up in the Shipwreck zone, with Tsuyu and Mineta, which sucked, but Tsuyu’s pretty chill, at least. It was a combined effort with Tsuyu shooting them as far as she could across the shipwreck zone with Shinsou on her back (and Mineta, too, but Mineta weighs as much as a bag of grapes). The only useful thing Mineta had done was throw some of his sticky purple balls into the water, which trapped a few of the villains together.

And then he sees him. Phantom? Here? How did he...?

The vigilante shoots over to where he and his two classmates are trying to auspiciously get across the plaza to escape. Luckily, most of the villains have either been taken down, or decided it isn’t worth it anymore. Phantom’s almost as beat-up as their sensei, but he doesn’t seem to notice, even with the vibrant green blood that’s pouring from lacerations cut into his clothes.

Green blood? No time to unpack that.

His hood is down, exposing a mess of curly white, glowing hair, but he has his mask again. The one he'd given to Hitoshi dissolved into a weird puddle of goop shortly after he'd disappeared following Hitoshi's rescue, which was odd, but not the weirdest thing he'd ever heard of.

“Hi, no time to explain why I’m here, here’s Eraser-san, uh, try not to let him die, please? I’m supposed to be the only dead man walking here.” Phantom speaks fast, faster than Hitoshi has ever heard. It's almost like he doesn't even need to breathe. But, to be fair to Phantom, there are other pressing manners, namely: one giant fucking monster on the other side of the plaza who looks like it wants to eat them all alive, and is the cause for their teacher’s current state in the first place.

Phantom locks his cyan eyes with Hitoshi, first.

“Shinsou, I know you can brainwash anyone that comes nearby. If any villain approaches you, try and get the upper-hand verbally.” Phantom looks over at Tsuyu, and his eyes flicker around, clearly thinking of something. “Miss, I can see you’ve got a frog-like Quirk, use it to defend Shinsou if he can’t brainwash anybody. And you—”

He turns to Mineta.

Mineta looks like he’s about to start sobbing.

“—Um, don’t worry about anything. Okay, bye!”

And just like that, he’s gone again, and Aizawa-sensei is left on the ground in front of them. Hitoshi immediately dives for their teacher, and—there’s a pulse, it’s there, he isn’t dead yet, but that doesn’t mean they should count on it staying like that. Tsuyu helps Hitoshi hoist their teacher over his shoulder, and Tsu uses what strength she has in her upper-body to pick up Aizawa-sensei’s legs so they don’t drag on the ground behind them.

“Who was that, Shinsou-kun?”

“Um. Well, have you heard of the Musutafu Phantom?”

“No, I haven’t.”

Mineta decides to be the only thing he could be: the most useless person possible. “Oh my god, I have! He’s a vigilante, isn’t he? What is he doing here? Is he working for those villains?”

“Shut it, Mineta,” Tsuyu uses her tongue to slap Mineta upside the head. “If he’s working for the villains, why would he fighting that…  that thing?”

Hitoshi glances across the plaza. Phantom is fighting that monster, and barely keeping up with it.

“How do you know that vigilante, Shinsou-kun?”

“He saved me, once.” Hitoshi explains. He’s really glad that he wasn’t sent to the fire zone. He still feels like he’s going to wake up one day and find himself back in his dad’s old office, surrounded by the flames. It was one of the coolest moments of his life, probably second or third to getting into U.A.'s hero course and meeting Eraserhead. As excited as he should be, there's something cold settling within Hitoshi.  "But I have no fucking idea how he knows what my Quirk is."

✨👻✨

Once he’s sure Eraserhead is in the most capable hands he can find, Izuku shoots back across the plaza. The Nomu is waiting for him, and catches Izuku’s flying-punch easily.

They trade blows for a bit—Izuku’s lucky his ghost form is a lot more durable than a mere human form, or he’d probably be fully dead by now. The Nomu has a shock-resistance, or maybe has a shock-absorbance (or maybe both) Quirk. It would explain why he can take Izuku’s hits so easily. It's hard to tell what the other Quirks are that are stitched together into the unliving abomination of science in front of him. At least a shock absorption Quirk, and maybe a regeneration Quirk, given how quickly it recovers and enhanced strength, too--

The Nomu wraps its large hands around Izuku’s wrist, and swings him up into the air, and hits him right in the middle of his chest. If Izuku had ribs, they would all be broken (and by the time this fight is over, he might have broken ribs, or at least, he’s going to have a lot of bruises). Izuku is sent flying away, landing on his back. It feels like something crunches underneath him. He hopes it's not anything important.

Still, he has to keep going.

PAIN-PAIN-PAIN-PAIN

There has to be a way—

The Nomu charges at him again, grabbing Izuku and swinging him up, again. This time it lets Izuku just fall to the ground without any more hits.

Izuku’s core screams. LET ME HELP YOU, LET ME HELP YOU!

PAIN-PAIN-PAIN-PAIN

And then, a small voice,

“Help?”

“Y-yes.” Izuku stumbles over his words, ignoring the pain eating away at him. He can feel his core working overtime to heal him up faster, hopefully it would be enough. Izuku keeps his voice low and soft, like he’s talking to a small child. The voice sounded small, after all-- God, please don’t let the Nomu be made from children.  “I—I can help you. I-I think. I think I can make the pain go away.”

PAIN-PAIN-PAIN

“Help us? You can help us?”

“I’ll try. You just need to—”

The Nomu rears back, lifting both fists in the air as Izuku lays under it.

“—let me!”

PAIN-PAIN

PAIN

Well, this is probably it, isn’t it? Izuku’s going to find out if he can fully die or not. He probably can’t, knowing his luck, but this final hit will definitely knock him out, and then he’ll transform back for sure, and that’ll be the end of his vigilante life. He had a good run. Three months now, being a vigilante, helping take down evil guys? He'll probably get arrested and maybe even tried as an adult, or maybe sent off to some scientists to figure out how the hell he ticks, but it was fun while it lasted.

He closes his eyes, and waits for the blow.

After a second of it not hitting him, he opens one eye. The fists are frozen, inches above Izuku’s head.

“--What? Nomu, what are you doing?”

“You said you can help us,” the mini-core hums at Izuku, in a language only he can understand. It sounds like overlapping voices. It's TV static and the sound of the wind during a thunderstorm and dew falling off of leaves in the morning. Perhaps whatever it is-- whoever it is-- is a memory, an echo, left in a Quirk factor after its body dies. Science says matter cannot be created or destroyed, so perhaps a Quirk factor is the same way? It prevents people from becoming ghosts when they die, but maybe there are small, little Quirk-factors floating about, leftover from people’s deaths that no one can see.

The Nomu starts making garbled noises, a mess that Izuku can’t understand. The Quirk Factors, talking to each other, in a language only the Nomu could know.

“What are you going to do?” It asks.

Izuku sits up, ignoring the burning pain in his chest. The Nomu’s arms fall limp to its sides.

Shigaraki screeches now. “Nomu, stop this! Kill him, kill him, kill the little brat, already!”

“I—we don’t—” The Nomu rears back a bit, and it grabs their head in pain. Clearly, there’s something inside the Nomu that makes it built to obey the commands of its master. "Want-- shut up, shut up!"

But the thing about human beings, that Izuku is slowly learning, is that their souls are pretty indomitable. Izuku pushes himself up, and reaches out towards the Nomu, and lets his arm turn intangible and he reaches in, until he feels it.

It’s small, and weak, and it feels like tangled-up string. But it’s there. The smallest of cores, built from many, many Quirks. Some from people who have passed on, others are from people who are still there, stuck, suffering, in pain. Stitched together, glued together, stuck together. Too many memories, too many shades and echoes of what and who people used to be, clashing against each other in a painful rage. It'd be beautiful, in a way, if the way it had been made was not so dark and evil.

Izuku grabs it, and pulls.

(“Mama! Mama! What if I get your Quirk?”

“My Quirk? Well, it’s nothing special, Izuku. I can just pull small things towards me.”

“But it is cool! It’s so cool! If you train it more, I bet you can be a hero, too!”

“That’s very sweet of you, honey. But I don’t think pulling small things is very heroic.”

“You never know!”)

It’s so small, the core. But once Izuku pulls it out, the Nomu stops in their tracks.

“What are you—what are you doing?!”

He ignores the screams from the villain, even as he can see the warp villain, Kurogiri, appear by Shigaraki’s side again. The mini core is so small and tangled, and wouldn’t last on its own outside in the world.

“Thank you,” the core says, voices unified for just a moment, and Izuku could give it a little bit of ectoplasm to sustain it. But what would the point of it be? The core wants to go. They all want to go.

So Izuku lets them. The tangled strings untangle themselves, and fade, one by one. All that’s left is a husk of what used to be—technically a dead body, but it wasn’t all that alive to begin with. The body falls to the side, motionless and lifeless, but was it ever alive to begin with?

“Nomu! Nomu, get up, and kill him already! Why isn’t it listening to me, Kurogiri! Why—”

Before Shigaraki can continue his tantrum, an explosion at the front catches everybody’s attention. The door goes flying, and a large figure jumps into the air, before landing in the dust of the plaza.

It’s him. Izuku can tell who it is before he can even see him.

All Might. Here.

Well, that’s Izuku’s cue to leave. The heroes have finally arrived, which is both good and bad. Good, because the students, and especially Eraserhead, can get help. They’ll all need medical help. But bad, because, well—Izuku’s weak enough from the fight that they might actually have a shot at catching him for once. He doesn’t have much time left in his ghost form. His legs are starting to feel shaky, his chest burns, and Izuku feels like he’s going to vomit.

It’s his best chance to get the hell out of there now, as everybody’s distracted by the arrival of All Might.

Izuku slips invisible, and pushes whatever energy he has left into his body, soaring up and through the roof of the USJ, higher and higher until he nearly hits the clouds. This high up, he can see the ocean, and even a bit of beach. He doesn’t know where he is, and doesn’t have his phone on him, so he’s just going to have to find his way back home using the beach and the ocean. Izuku picks a direction, and hopes for the best.

Chapter Text

It’s all over the news later that evening.

USJ Attacked by League of Villains – Who Is Responsible?

Is U.A. Really The Best Hero School?

Students, Teachers Wounded in attack at Hero School Campus

Izuku’s half-paying attention to the news as it cycles through different stories from the attack. None of the students of Class 1-A—Shinsou’s class, oh god, Shinsou’s class—had been interviewed or had made statements. U.A. is keen on protecting their students from the media, at least. More could be said for protecting them against villains, but hey, to be fair, how would they have protected their students from a man who could make portals out of his own body.

His other half is paying attention to his latest notebook. He’s up to number fifteen now. Thirteen isn’t all the way full, but it’s the notebook he chronicles his adventures with his powers in, so it doesn’t fit very well in his analysis series books. He should really just re-number fourteen and fifteen, but he can’t be bothered to scribble out the pen because then that’d look ugly. He’s scribbling down everything he could remember from the villains he fought at USJ.

He really, really hopes his mom never gets curious and looks through some of his stuff. But she’s nice, she wouldn’t breach his privacy like that for no reason. So, he should be fine. He should be fine. She never has before. But his classmates back at Aldera—

Izuku shakes the thoughts away, jotting down a few more notes.

Shigaraki

Somewhere around his mid 20s, could be 18 at the least. Skinny, not a lot of muscle, but knows how to fight.

Quirk: Unnamed Decay Quirk (Prob. just Decay)

Five-point contact Emitter Quirk. The user’s touch will decay anything it holds, both organic and inorganic.

A thought comes to him. The other day with Shinsou, he told Izuku about a bunch of journalists who broke into U.A.—what if this Shigaraki person was somehow involved? To create a diversion to sneak into U.A., grab something like a schedule of sorts for All Might, to plan their attack at the USJ? What if it’s all connected?

Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe it was just a coincidence. But things are rarely ever just coincidences.  

Potential weaknesses:

Obv. can’t be used if the user is wearing gloves that cover all their fingers, and needs constant physical contact to work.

Might not work on non-solid materials, such as viscous liquids or water.

Izuku quickly sketches out the outfit that he remembers Shigaraki wearing. A simple outfit aside from the weird collection of hands covering the man’s body; just a black long-sleeve shirt and black jeans, with red sneakers.

Red sneakers?

Izuku glances up, and looks towards the entryway of his apartment. Izuku has red sneakers, too; only a few businesses in the local area sell shoes made specifically for Quirkless people, due to the fact that their feet are shaped just a little different than normal people. Most of the people Izuku sees wearing them are older, elderly people.

Could it…? How would that even be possible, for a Quirkless individual to gain a Quirk as destructive as something like the decaying Quirk?

He quickly jots down those thoughts, nearly lost in the frenzy of writing when he hears the door to his apartment open.

“I’m home, Izuku!” His mom calls out. Izuku’s up late, sure; but to be fair he doesn’t have to worry about getting up at a certain time for his online classes, since they’re all self-guided, which has been amazing for him so far. He can stay up late, get his every-few-days sleep in, or go out on a patrol at night without worrying about falling behind in high school. “Oh goodness, honey, you need to fix up that posture!”

“Sorry, mom!” Izuku says, immediately straightening up his back from the shrimp-like position he was in before. He hadn’t even noticed how bad it got until his mom points it out. “How was work?”

“A little crazy, as usual.” His mom says, taking off her shoes and sliding into her slippers, and she drops her bag on the kitchen table. “Did you eat anything tonight, Izuku?”

Izuku nods, sliding the pen into the pages of his notebooks as a makeshift bookmark. “There’s leftover miso soup in the fridge, if you want any!” He had been practicing some cooking during the hour he takes for his lunch breaks when he does online classes, but the miso soup isn't one of his own concoctions. He ordered it to be delivered after crashing once he got home following his escape from the USJ and woke up starving. Most of his lacerations had healed up nicely, scabbing over fast. The bumps and bruises from other injuries will take a longer to heal, but luckily he avoided getting his face hit, so most of his wounds could easily be hidden underneath his hoodie.

It doesn't mean he's not in pain; his body aches when he moves, but it's a familiar sort of ache after an intense workout. I will never take you for granted, enhanced healing, he thinks, glad he didn't have to take a chance on his theory about Trigger this time.

“Aw, Izuku, thank you! You’re so sweet.”

I should tell her, Izuku thinks, watching as his mom pours a bit of soup into a pot to heat it up over their stove. I should tell her the truth. About who I am. About what I am.

But what if she—he shakes that thought away. He can ignore the angsty thoughts for now. Izuku stretches and fakes a yawn. It’s ten in the evening, now—typically when he does go to bed. “I think I’m gonna head off to bed. Goodnight, mom.”

“Oh, yes, it is late. Sleep well, sweetie.”

“You, too.”

Of course, “go to bed” in Izuku’s terminology has quickly transformed into a 50% chance he was going to go out on a vigilante patrol once the moon was high in the sky, but that isn’t something that she should know right now. Not to mention, after all the fighting he’d done with those group of villains today, his body is starting to ache like crazy. He hasn’t used that many shields since he’s started practicing with them, and all the hits he’d unintentionally taken from not just the low-rate villains but the Nomu as well had left him covered in bruises. So, safe to say, he definitely isn’t going to go on a patrol tonight.

Sleep would be nice. Even if he'd slept half the afternoon away, more sleep sounds absolutely divine. His body hits the bed and he doesn't even crawl under his covers before he falls into a dreamless slumber.

✨👻✨

“Tsukauchi! It’s been a while since we last talked. How are things with you?”

It’s nice to hear the voice of Tsukauchi Naomasa’s dear friend on the other end. It had, admittedly, been a while since they had talked any further than just simple text messages to each other, but there were things he felt like his friend All Might (or, as he knew him, Yagi Toshinori) ought to know.

They had technically seen each other in person, earlier that day, at the aftermath of what the media has been calling the 'USJ Attack'. But Naomasa had been busy talking to the different students to get their facts straight, and Yagi had been helping the rest of U.A.’s staff clear out the rest of the villains who were hiding in the building still. It’d been too chaotic to try to catch Yagi in person, so a phone call hours later would have to suffice.

“I am well. I hope you are, too, after everything that’s happened today.”

“By the time I arrived, it seems like the major threat had already been defeated by that one vigilante.” Yagi says. There’s a sound of something crackling on the other end—probably the old stove that’s in his apartment. It’s a little late for dinnertime, but Naomasa can’t judge. “What is their name again?”

“Phantom.” Naomasa replies.

“Phantom! Yes. Thank you.”

“Of course. Phantom is actually why I wanted to call you in the first place. What do you know about him, Yagi?”

“Well, I’m afraid not much more than the rest of the media does. Since taking up the teaching position at U.A., I haven’t been able to do much more than a short patrol on my way to and from the school now. Some sort of ghost-like Quirk, right?”

Well. From his limited interactions with the vigilante—which is usually seeing his shadow fly away right after they arrive at the scene of a crime that Phantom has already taken care of—Yagi isn’t wrong that it might be some sort of ghost-like Quirk. Even if the vigilante—a child, Naomasa reminds himself—has called himself a straight-up ghost in multiple reports by Aizawa, there’s no way that he’s an actual ghost.

But, well, it’s still an unsettling thought for him. He isn’t quite sure where he is in his belief in the afterlife, but maybe there’s a small possibility…? No, no thanks, no disturbing thoughts about mortality today please and thank you.

Naomasa is lucky most vigilante cases fall under an unofficial fair use sort of deal between police departments. Because priorities should always be get them off the streets no matter what, it wasn’t unheard of for individual officers or detectives to ask heroes or hero-adjacents with proper clearance for assistance on cases such as this. But something about what he’d heard today from all of those poor students is sending a shudder down his spine, and he needs to talk to Yagi about it, because Yagi is the only other person who would understand that feeling.

“Yes, that’s what we figured when he first started. Either a ghost-like Quirk, or something that would allow himself to manipulate his own molecules to turn invisible and pass through things. But after today… Yagi, I’m not too sure about it.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, according to what some of your students had to say today, along with some of the more agreeable villains we captured, Phantom seems to have developed a new, unrelated, Quirk. He’s able to make some sort of energy shield, now.”

“Developed a new… Quirk?”

“Exactly. Yagi, are you sure—”

A sigh from the other end of the phone interrupts Naomasa. “I would love to be sure that All For One is dead and buried, but with what I’ve been hearing about the strange Nomu creature that attacked my class, I cannot be too sure of that anymore. Do you believe Phantom is related to… him, somehow?”

“Somehow. It would explain Phantom’s numerous Quirks, and his white hair.”

“Phantom has white hair?”

“Ah, yes. Our unofficial description puts Phantom as a young teen or an adult, with bright cyan eyes and white hair.” Naomasa adds. "Most of the time his hair is hidden under his hood, but it seems like it'd fallen off when he was fighting today."

“Hhn.” The sound of a kettle goes off on Yagi’s end. There’s a bit of shuffling as he continues. “I don’t know if All for One ever had a family past his relationship to the first holder of One for All. But it could be possible he may have had a partner and children without anyone knowing.”

“That’s my thought, too.” Naomasa sighs. “We’re lucky for the moment, as it looks like the only laws Phantom is breaking are numerous vigilante laws. It’s hard to tell if it’s a ploy to build up trust between him and multiple pro-heroes or if it’s a teenage rebellion against All for One. For now, Aizawa is on the case to try and bring him in.”

“Aizawa-san is, you say?” Yagi asks, clearly a little shocked. “I would have never thought…”

“Yes. Aizawa has been helping out with the case for a while now, though since he was hurt badly in the attack today, he’ll probably be taking a break.” He better, Naomasa thinks, or they’re going to have to sic the whole wrath of U.A. on one Aizawa Shouta.

For a second, Naomasa wonders if Phantom would be dumb enough to try and visit the pro-hero in the hospital. It’d be a risky move. If anywhere had tranquilizers or enough Quirk suppressants to take out Phantom, it would either be Tartarus itself or any general hospital in the world.

“Tsukauchi. May I lend a hand in the investigation into Phantom?”

“Sure. It’s a vigilante case, so it’s open book. Maybe if the Symbol of Peace started looking into Phantom, it’d get him to stop being so risky.” Stopping wannabe drug dealers and thugs is handy sometimes, but Phantom’s just a kid. Phantom obviously loves heroes, so maybe the number-one hero can talk some sense into him?

✨👻✨

CATNYAP: mido mido mido mido

MINIGHOST: Shinsou Shinsou Shinsou Shinsou

CATNYAP: sos

MINIGHOST: Everything okay??

CATNYAP: so we’ve got the rest of the week off from class after that villain attack

CATNYAP: a bunch of my classmates are organizing a big outing to that big mall out in Tokyo tomorrow

CATNYAP: the kiyashi ward one

CATNYAP: SOS

MINIGHOST: That mall is huge! Your classmates are organizing a trip to it?

CATNYAP: it was this one girl’s idea to help us get to know each other better as a class

CATNYAP: almost everyone is going but idk what to do

MINIGHOST: You should go! If your classmates invited you, it’s clear they want to be your friends.

CATNYAP: hnnanannnhhh

CATNYAP: social interaction,,,,

MINIGHOST: You’re going to U.A., Shinsou! You’re going to have to do a lot of networking and socializing as a hero, whether you go underground or not.

CATNYAP: fhsafdfsafsd

CATNYAP: i hat eit that ur right

MINIGHOST: Do it! Go! Have fun!

CATNYAP: y’know what

CATNYAP: i will go but you’re gonna come with

CATNYAP: ur the only one who will keep me sane

MINIGHOST: Huh????

CATNYAP: i might’ve mentioned you to a few of my classmates and they wanna meet u

MINIGHOST: What? They wanna meet me???

CATNYAP: yeah, probably because you’re a pretty cool person midoriya

CATNYAP: ik you go to that fancy online school, are you able to get one day off to come with??

MINIGHOST: Well, I need to ask my mom, too.

MINIGHOST: I’m ahead on most of my lessons anyway, so I’m sure missing one day won’t hurt.

CATNYAP: ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ

MINIGHOST:  Okay, I just asked my mom. She said I needed to be back before 6.

MINIGHOST: But I can go.

CATNYAP: lfggg

CATNYAP: i can txt u the details in a bit

Izuku stares at his phone. The cursor in the messaging app is still blinking back at him.

Did that… just happen? Izuku knows that Shinsou is in Class 1-A. He got invited to an outing with Shinsou’s classmates. He got invited to meet kids from U.A. High School. Class 1-A.

His core is humming loudly in his chest, almost purring, but it pauses, for a moment.

Wait, what if—

MINIGHOST: is, uh, Bakugou Katsuki gonna be there

CATNYAP: bakugou?

CATNYAP: WAIT

CATNYAP: IS HE K??????????

CATNYAP: THATS WHY HIS QUIRK WAS SO FAMILIAR

MINIGHOST: Yeah, he is.

MINIGHOST: I don’t wanna make a big deal about it, but if he’s gonna be there, I don’t know if I can go

CATNYAP: dw midoriya!! i don’t think he’ll be there. he doesn’t seem too interested in most of us.

CATNYAP: idk if anyone in my class even has his number tbh

CATNYAP: but ill check and make sure

MINIGHOST: Okay, yep, that sounds just like him. And thank you for checking, too.

Chapter Text

Kiyashi Ward Shopping Mall lives up to its hype. It’s a majestic piece of architectural work and engineering. During warmer months and sunnier days, the roof is programmed to open up to let in the fresh air and beautiful sunshine, but when it’s cold or rainy, the roof will close so people are still able to walk around freely without worrying about the weather. Inside its four stories are a smorgasbord of different stores.

Kiyashi Ward is most notorious for its abundance of clothing stores tailored to fit people of various shapes and sizes, regardless of Quirk-type. Some stores sell clothing made for people with tails in mind, some stores sell clothing made for people with wings, and other stores will sell lotions and self-care products for people with Quirks that change their skin.

There are also normal stores as well, for those with typical bodies, along with a large food court stocked full of different fast-food chains and even a grocery store and large café. The mall wasn’t limited to just people with Quirks that changed the way their body works, but it was one of the few in the world that accommodates them to such a level, that it has become quite a popular place in the last few decades.

Most of the stores would be useless for someone like Izuku, who had no Quirk at all, but it’s strangely nice to be invited to something like this. Even if he doesn’t know all the people he’s going to meet.

Shinsou texted the meeting location to him late the previous night, and all should have been well, but Izuku stayed up half the night trying to figure out what he was going to do, what he would say, what he would wear. He’d never been too worried about these things, even after clearing out most of his closet to get rid of his All Might clothing, he still had a decent amount of hero merch, and would it be weird? Would he be too much of a fanboy?

Izuku eventually settles on a pair of gray cargo shorts and a simple blue t-shirt with an embroidered black hole in the top right. It’s technically hero merch from the hero Thirteen, and he remembers asking his mom to buy it years ago since it was a shirt being sold to help a disaster relief fundraiser Thirteen was the face of. One lucky buyer would get an autograph included with their order to encourage more purchases, and while Izuku wanted the autograph, he wouldn’t be upset getting one since the money was all going to a good cause, anyway. He didn’t get it, but he did get a cool, good quality t-shirt out of it, so it’s a win for him!

Once the day comes, his mom leaves a pretty large sum of money on the counter for him in the morning. It’s not much by the Midoriya standards, of course—Izuku’s almost all out of the money he got from cleaning Dagobah Beach—but it’s enough to buy a new pair of shoes. As his mom suggests in the note she leaves.

There is a custom shoe seller at the Kiyashi Ward mall that sells shoes for Quirkless people, and maybe owning more than just a single pair of red sneakers is probably a good idea. He slides the money into his wallet, puts on his sneakers, and decides against getting on the train, transforming in the comfort of his apartment for a quick flight over to Tokyo. It’d save a few extra yen in case Izuku wants to get a snack or some food in the food court with Shinsou’s classmates.

Shinsou’s classmates. He’d technically seen a few of them before, aside from knowing both Shinsou and Bakugou. He wonders, as he flies through the air invisibly, if he’d officially meet the frog-girl. Her Quirk seems super cool! Or maybe—

Well, Izuku wouldn’t mind not meeting that purple orb hair kid who just about burst into tears with his appearance at the USJ. Maybe he misjudged the kid on a first look, but something about that kid gave Izuku the heebie-jeebies.

Izuku’s been getting faster with his flying over the last two months of patrol, so it’s not too long until he spots Kiyashi Ward Mall in the distance. Glancing around, Izuku finds a surreptitious and closed off alleyway in walking distance, where he lands quietly. After checking for security cameras, Izuku detransforms, and walks out of the alley casually, blending into the crowds of people.

Shinsou is there early, too, with another girl. Unfamiliar—not the frog girl—but she looks nice. Her hair is cut into a brown bob, and her cheeks are bright pink. It’s hard to tell if it’s make-up or if it’s natural. She’s wearing just a simple black v-neck and mauve colored shorts, with a brown bag swung over one of her shoulders.

“Midoriya, over here!” Shinsou spots him and waves him over.

Izuku takes a deep breath, ignoring the jitter in his hands, and walks over to Shinsou and the girl.

“U-Um, h-hi.”

“Hi! You’re Shinsou’s friend, yeah?” The girl smiles brightly. “I’m Uraraka Ochako! Nice to meet you!”

“M-Midoriya Izuku. And, um, same!” Woo, first successful conversation of the day. Maybe Izuku can break his record today.

Shinsou glances down as his phone buzzes. He pulls it out. “Ah. Looks like the others are just about here, too.”

“Awesome! This is gonna be so much fun. I’ve never been to a mall this big, before.”

“M-Me either.” Izuku’s hesitant to add, but he does, anyway. If Shinsou has to suffer with the mortifying idea of making friends, Izuku should try it out, too. He doubts that Shinsou’s classmates in 1-A would really want to be his friends, especially if they find out about his Quirklessness, but it’s still something he could dream about. “So, um. How many people are coming, again?”

“Not too many, actually.” Uraraka says. “I think it’s only Mina and Jiro who are coming.”

That’s only two people? That’s not actually a lot, yet it feels like it is, Izuku thinks, but buries the fear deep inside of him. It’s fine. It’s fine. He’s only going to be hanging out with actual hero course students. There’s nothing to worry about.

Nothing to worry about at all. It’s all going to go just fine, he just needs the paranoid part of his brain to shut up for a few minutes, and maybe for his core’s buzzing to settle down, too.

It’s only a few moments later when the other four hero course students arrive, and it’s obvious who they are when they walk up. Ashido Mina—who insists on being just Mina to everybody—has bright pink skin, dark sclera with yellow eyes, and two golden horns sticking out from her pink hair. She definitely stands out in a crowd. Jiro Kyoka, on the other hand, stands out because she’s the least energetic. Her earlobes stretch out into earphone jacks past her shoulders.

They’re so cool. Izuku can’t believe how cool these people are. He’s definitely jealous of Shinsou, for getting such cool classmates, while Izuku’s safest option is an online school where he doesn’t have to interact with people at all. It’s an unfortunate part of life, since he’s Quirkless.

Everyone hates the Quirkless. Izuku’s fine with just being in the presence of these cool people, honestly! He doesn’t really need to shop anywhere right now. He can just fly back on a day he has off to get new shoes, he doesn’t need to worry about that.

“What about you, Midoriya?”

“Hm?” He was spacing out a bit for a moment, so Mina’s question caught him off guard.

“You live in Musutafu, too, right?” Mina asks, and Izuku nods in response. “So, what do you think about the vigilante Phantom?”

Phantom? She’s asking me about—me?! Izuku really should have been paying more attention, but he can’t change the past. Hopefully he can just lie his way out of this. “Well, um, I haven’t seen him in person, but I hear he’s pretty cool?” Well, I can’t technically see myself in person, only in reflections, so it isn’t even a lie.

“Really?” Shinsou asks. “I would’ve thought you would have more to say.”

Izuku shrugs. “I-I mean, uh, I guess I’ve just been too focused on other things?”

He can see out of the corner of his eye Jiro is staring at him. She’s stayed pretty quiet the whole trip, too, just like Shinsou—they were probably the introverts being dragged along by their extrovert friends for once. Or in Izuku’s case, being dragged by his introvert friend Shinsou, who was in turn, being dragged by an extrovert. But she’s staring at him with an unreadable expression.

“Well, I think Phantom is awesome!” Uraraka interrupts. She swings her fists in the air as she adds, “You should’ve seen him the other day! He was like all, pow-pow-pow! Those villains didn’t know they had it coming?”

“W-Where did you see Phantom?”

“Oh, right, it might not be in the news. Phantom was there at the USJ attack!” Mina adds. “Uraraka and I were stuck by the entrance, so we didn’t get to see much of anything, but Shinsou got a close look!”

Right. I know that, because I was there. Izuku tries to look shocked, or at least, interested in the story. “R-Really?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t the, uh, first time I’ve seen him, though.”

“Oh, yeah, you told us that!” Mina says. “He saved you from that fire at your dad’s job, right?”

This is so weird! Izuku thinks, as the people around him start talking about him, without knowing it’s him. Even Jiro makes a comment, like, yeah I don’t think I’ve heard much about him, but she doesn’t take her eyes off Izuku for a while.

✨👻✨

Jiro Kyoka’s a little surprised that there aren’t as many people going to the Kiyashi Ward Mall outing as they are; it’s just her, Mina, Uraraka and Shinsou, in the end. But then Shinsou asks if he can bring his one friend, Midoriya Izuku, along with them, and everybody is fine with it. They’re all fine with him, and it makes sense.

Midoriya Izuku is an unassuming person. Short, with curly green hair and freckles. The only thing of note that stands out to Kyoka is the strange scars that run up his right arm, but nobody wants to ask about that, obviously, because asking people you just met about vicious scars on their body is kinda rude. It’d be like asking Todoroki about his scar over his one eye, like, how rude.

But that’s not what freaks Kyoka out the most. What her classmates don’t understand yet about her Quirk is that she passively has better hearing than everybody else. If her Earphone Jacks aren’t plugged in anywhere or covered, she has what could be very weak superhuman hearing. Which wouldn’t matter that much to her, she’s long since learned to drown out the sounds of people around her, whether they be eating, talking, or even the sound of their heartbeats.

Midoriya’s heartbeat is slow.

Too slow.

It picks up a bit when they start talking about Phantom, but Kyoka can’t tell if it’s because he knows more than he’s letting on, or if he’s nervous about being included in a conversation. Same, dude, she wants to say, the vigilante Phantom’s barely on Kyoka’s radar. She only knows he exists because of the USJ attack a few days ago.

Eventually the conversation of Phantom quiets down, as Mina and Uraraka get distracted by a pastel pink shop. Shinsou excuses himself for a quick bathroom break, which leaves Kyoka alone with Midoriya for a few minutes.

She looks at him. He nervously flickers his eyes to her, and then away.

Eventually, he gets the courage to speak. “U-Um, why are you starting at me?”

“Your heart is really slow. Do you know that?”

“U-Uh, yeah. I do.” Midoriya waves his right hand, showing off the scars decorating it. It’s a fascinating pattern. She can’t put a word to it, but it’s an intricate pattern of tessellating scar tissue, looking more like frost on a window than an actual scar. “I was, um—struck by lightning a few months ago, and the doctors said my heart’s just beating slower because of it, now.”

“How?” That doesn’t make much sense to Kyoka. Her family might not be doctors—they’re all musicians, of course—but even that doesn’t make sense.

Midoriya shrugs. “Dunno. The doctors didn’t explain it to me.”

“They’re doctors, why wouldn’t they?”

“It’s. Um. A long story, I guess.” Midoriya replies, looking down at his feet. “Sorry. I’d rather not talk about it.”

Kyoka nods. “Sorry for bringing it up. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“T-thank you. So is, uh, that your Quirk, then? Enhanced hearing?”

Kyoka nods. She swings one of her earlobes in the air. “Yeah, basically. I can plug my earphone jacks into walls and stuff to focus on hearing something, and I can channel my heartbeat through it to break stuff. It’s not much.”

A switch goes off in Midoriya. The meek, shy kid her age seems to disappear in an instant; instead, his eyes fill with stars, and for a second, it looks like they pulse a soft, blue glow. “It’s not much? That’s such a cool Quirk, Jiro! You have support tech that will help you amplify that noise, right?"

"U-Uh, yeah--" Shinsou decides to make that his turn to return, just as Midoriya starts prattling off about her Quirk, asking questions left and right. Her classmate smirks. She glances at him and asked in a hushed voice, “Is he always like this?”

Midoriya keeps talking. It’s good analysis, and Kyoka should be paying attention, but she isn’t.

“You got him talking about your Quirk, didn’t you?” Shinsou’s learned how to do Aizawa-sensei’s smirk, somehow, and it’s just as unsettling as when their teacher does it.

It would’ve been nice to at least get a warning that this is what Midoriya can be like.

✨👻✨

“I am still unsure of how that boy destroyed the Nomu, master.”

“Don’t concern yourself over the Nomu we lost. Dr. Garaki. How is development going on our new experiments?”

“Very well, master. Two of the four Nomu we have been working on seem to be responding positively to the changes to their Quirk Factors. The third Nomu is unfortunately rejecting the changes, while I have yet to add any additional changes to the fourth’s factors.”

“When do you believe these Nomu will be done?”

“I am sure I can have them done soon. Not before the Sports Festival, unfortunately.”

“That is fine. We do not need to risk any more attacks after the failure of the USJ invasion. It will be more beneficial to watch the festival, anyway.”

“How so, Sensei?”

“It will be the easiest way for us to see the potential in the next generation, after all…”

Chapter Text

Shouta’s only out for a day.

Shuzenji was able to heal most of his wounds after he’d been rescued by Phantom from that monster of a creature, but the exhaustion and lack of stamina caught up to him. He wakes up in the middle of the night inside a hospital room, the only noise being the heart monitor attached to him beeping in sync with his heartbeats.

It’s quiet, and Shouta would love to just roll over to sleep, but something’s nagging at him. It feels like he’s being watched. And then he understands.

“…Phantom?” His voice is a little raw and scratchy, and he mumbles it out, but sure enough, the vigilante appears in his room just a moment later.

“Hi, Eraser-san.” Phantom’s voice—usually the annoying teen voice—is softer, now. The hood that is usually up, covering most of his hair, is down, letting the curly white hair loose. His mask is, strangely, down, showing off what Shouta had feared the most, once upon a time—a child’s face stares back. The baby fat still sits snugly in his cheeks, and his face is decorated with a dusting of glowing freckles.

Shouta had hoped if he had ever seen Phantom’s face, that he would recognize the boy.

Preferably as a student at U.A., it didn’t have to be his class, but any class. He’d begun memorizing the faces of all the General Education students just in case. The likeliness was low, but if anyone were to try to become a vigilante, it would probably be a General Education student who had been snubbed by the Entrance Exam for a weaker Quirk.

At least, if he could recognize Phantom, he could find Phantom in his civilian life and get him to stop it. Before the police got involved. A teenage vigilante situation is delicate. Not entirely unheard of, of course, Shouta had seen and heard of a few teenage vigilantes in his lifetime, but they’re extremely fragile. Whether that be the hormones of puberty or their life circumstances, teenage vigilantes tended to have more capricious lives than adults. Police could scare them off easier, and then they wouldn’t be caught, again. Adult villains would take advantage of them, groom them into villains on their own, and they’d be lost to the vicious cycle, again.

He doesn’t know whether to be upset or glad that Phantom doesn’t look familiar to him. Well, not entirely—there’s something about the way Phantom’s cyan eyes look at Shouta that rings as something in Shouta, but he can’t tell. Perhaps he had saved Phantom, once, as a civilian? That would be impossible to narrow down—Shouta saved a lot of people, all the time.

“What are you doing here?” Shouta asks, keeping his voice as low as possible. It might be the middle of the night in a hospital, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any prying ears or eyes. The only way he had been able to convince Tsukauchi to get rid of the undercover officers guarding him was to say that Phantom wouldn’t even consider the risk of visiting a hospital wing because it might be the only place that had enough suppressants to actually take him down.

Yet, clearly, Phantom didn’t even think—or care—about that possibility, as here he is, floating in Shouta’s room.

He’s only partially visible, though. Shouta can see the wall and chair across the room through the boy. Maybe, he did think something through (for once) with this reckless idea.

“I just wanted to check in on you.” Phantom says. “How are you doing?”

“I’m…” Shouta pauses for a moment, and studies Phantom again. He tries to memorize the way the boy’s face curves, the way his nose looks, anything about him, so maybe Shouta could try and find him as a civilian, but his brain still feels like tired mush from everything. “The doctors said I’ll be fine, just some scarring.”

Phantom nods, though Shouta can’t help but notice the way he falls, a bit.

“You did the best you could, Phantom.”

“I—I know, I just.” Phantom sighs. He curls his legs into his body while he’s floating a few feet off the ground. “I don’t feel like I did enough.”

Ah, yes. That’s a feeling Shouta knows well. He sighs, ignoring the pain in his ribs that flares up when he does. “You were reckless. I don’t know how, or why you were with that group of villains in the first place, and when you got to the USJ, you could have easily flown off and fled instead of getting involved like you did.” Phantom flinches at the scolding. God, Shouta feels like he’s scolding one of his students right now. And maybe that’s not too far off—Phantom does feel like a student, enrolled or not. “But I can’t say that your help that day wasn’t… appreciated.”

“Oh. Uh. T-Thanks.” Phantom glances away, nervously pulling his mask up to hide his face again.

This kid, Shouta thinks, before continuing. “I heard about what happened with that creature—the Nomu. I know it’s hard, sometimes, but killing—”

“I didn’t kill it.” Phantom interrupts, sharply. It’s uncharacteristic enough that Shouta stops completely, and just blinks at the vigilante. “I—it—they—they were already dead to begin with, like me. I just freed them.”

Dead to begin with. The words echo in Shouta’s mind. Like me. Like me, dead to begin with. I’m a ghost. I don’t have a Quirk. I’m a ghost, I’m a ghost, I’m a ghost—

Shouta doesn’t believe in ghosts. He never has—it’s an illogical thought. If human souls—if that concept even exists—were to persist after death, wouldn’t they have figured that out by now? Wouldn’t one of those charlatans on the TV who claimed to have a Quirk that allowed them to communicate with the dead be found to be fully, 100% truthful? Wouldn’t there be some sort of evidence? Some sort of proof?

Phantom speaks about death and ghost with such conviction, such familiarity that Shouta’s starting to doubt his beliefs.

“Oh.” Shouta finally formulates his response. “I’m sure they… appreciated… it.”

“It’s okay if you don’t believe me.” Phantom says, quietly flickering out of view. “Nobody’s ever believed me.”

After a few moments, it feels like Shouta is by himself. Even though he’s alone, he still calls out to Phantom. “Don’t do anything reckless, kid.”

I can’t help you if I’m stuck in here, he wants to say.

The chill disappears from the room, and Shouta eventually falls back into a dreamless sleep.

✨👻✨

Don’t do anything reckless, kid.

Izuku feels a little hurt by Eraserhead’s comment, but he supposes it is fair advice. But he’s not going to be doing anything reckless, no sirree! Nothing reckless. Just—maybe he’s doing to be patrolling an extra night or two in the week (when he’s already doing three patrols a week) just to try and help out a bit more while Eraserhead is out of commission.

It’s not going to be a permanent thing. Izuku needs his sleep as much as any other human, he just needs marginally less than a full human. He can survive for a little bit with a little less sleep if that means one more person is able to go home to their family every night. One less victim on the streets. One less body to count.

It’s not like it hasn’t been weighing on him—everything, really, but specifically the Nomu “thing”. He hears their voices in his dreams, sometimes. Calling out for help. Crying out in pain.

Who did this? Why would they do this? How could they do this to people?

Innocent or not, people died to make that Nomu. Something that Izuku couldn’t stand for.

A hunt into more information on the League of Villains leads nowhere on the streets. For any low-rate villains Izuku is able to find, they just say that they didn’t take Shigaraki up on the cash offer (it smelled bad, or wasn’t worth it, in their words), or they don’t know anything about the League of Villains. The police arrested most of the villains who had attacked the USJ days ago, but Izuku isn’t interested in trying his luck with breaking into prison.

The hospital might’ve been risky, but he needed to know if Eraserhead was okay or not. Seeing the hero bandaged up—but alive, alive, he’s alive—lifted Izuku’s spirits that night (pun intended). But don’t do anything reckless—when has Izuku ever done anything reckless?

Well, except the time he got into the Accident. Oh, and the time he’d stopped a mugger, when he transformed for the first time. And the other crimes he’s stopped. And the theft with Sakura where he got shot with Trigger. And the experiment he did with Trigger. And sneaking into the League of Villain’s meeting that led to the USJ—okay Eraserhead might have a point with Izuku’s reckless behavior, actually. But Izuku’s not going to let a small reckless streak stop him.

He’ll only stop this when he’s either caught or fully dead, and Izuku’s pretty sure the latter can’t even happen to him.

It’s another gang of villains he’s stopping. There’s four of them, three of them have visible Quirks—the lady can control the length of her hair, one man has a penguin-mutant Quirk, the other man has either an alligator or crocodile tail, can’t tell the difference from this far away—but he can’t get a guess on the blond dude with the face mask.

“Shit, it’s Phantom!” Crocodile tail yells, once Izuku drops his visibility and jumps into the fray.

It started out as a cruel four-versus-one attack. A random guy was surrounded by these four villains, some sort of mugging or attempted theft. Once Izuku jumps into the fight, he can see from the corner of his eye the man run away as fast as he could, good for him. Hopefully he’ll call the police.

He doesn’t realize he’s in a bit over his head at first. Fighting four people at once—after what happened at the USJ—seems too easy. Crocodile tail gets his tail grabbed and he’s flung into the wall of one of the buildings, not enough to kill him, but it winds him enough and he doesn’t get back up. Izuku flies in a twirling motion around hair-lady to get her hair tangled up and knotted around her body, tying herself and penguin-guy in the process.

It just leaves the blond guy left.

“You’re Phantom, eh?” The blond guy chuckles. “Aren’t you supposed to be more talkative?”

“Aren’t you supposed to not try and mug people?” Izuku bites back with a wide grin, though they probably can’t see that under the mask.

Blond guy laughs and claps his hands together. A spark of electricity lights up between them, and Izuku feels something… churn in his body.

Some sort of fear, deep in his core—electricity?

Of course, electric-based Quirks aren’t all that common. They’re incredibly rare—Shinsou mentioned one of his classmates at U.A. has an electricity-based Quirk that always fries his brain when he uses it too much, and that’s the only one Izuku can think of other than the Pro-Hero Spark, who’s technically based out in America.

And even then, most people with electricity-based Quirks don’t go into heroics. They’re valued more in the workforce in trade jobs.

But electricity. It is what—technically—killed him. It makes sense he’d be afraid, but the absolute fear he feels coming out of his core is worrying on its own. He’s afraid—and why is this happening? Why is he afraid?

The blond man’s quirk seems to be similar to Bakugou’s in its application, Izuku notes, as he dodges as the man lunges for him. He claps, and the electricity surges for a few moments, like his hands are AED defibrillators. That’d be so useful in the medical field, Izuku thinks glumly, as the man grunts and turns on his heel again. Why are you trying to be a criminal with it?

The man claps his hands again and grabs for Izuku’s leg. Izuku tries to push himself higher into the air and out of the man’s grasp, but the man manages to grab Izuku’s shoe, and—

The pain—

EXPLODES.

Izuku isn’t quite sure how long the electricity stays in his system. He feels just a little bit in his foot, and suddenly, the overwhelming sense of pain overtakes his system. Izuku thrashes out of the man’s grip, but crashes to the ground. There’s another yell and a crash, too.

After what feels like forever, his vision starts to clear, but the pain is still overwhelming. He can feel his transformation threatening to burst—Izuku holds it back with all his might, but the pain from the electricity might win him over. He looks around in the alleyway. The blond guy is on top of the dumpster, unconscious. Hair-lady and penguin-guy are still tangled up together, and the crocodile-guy is slowly getting his bearings.

I can’t stay here. He takes what strength he can muster and shoots himself up into the sky. Not as fast as he’d typically like, but everything hurts and it’s so painful and disorienting. He flies, and flies, and flies as far as he can away from the scene of the crime. He isn’t sure what direction he’s flying in until he notices he’s slowly losing altitude, and eventually, he crashes next to a dumpster in another alleyway between apartments.

It's one of Musutafu’s residential areas, at least; less likely a crime would occur here. Which is good, because Izuku is in an ungodly amount of pain right now.

It feels like he’s dying again. The electricity is crawling up and down his arms, and it feels like he’s being pulled apart and stitched back together again. His transformation threatens, again, but he pushes it down. He just needs to—wait. Be patient. Let the pain subside, then get home. Should be easy enough.

He isn’t sure how long he sits here, but he eventually hears footsteps from the other end of the alleyway, and a light shines down them.

“Hello?” A familiar voice asks.

Izuku glances around the dumpster, keeping his arms pulled tightly to his chest as another wave of pain hits him.

It’s Shinsou.

Chapter Text

Izuku tries to turn invisible, or at least, squeeze himself behind the dumpster, but it’s too late. Shinsou’s already spotted him.

“Phantom? Is that you?”

“N-No, I am—I’m just a f-figment of your, ah, imagination—” Izuku stumbles over his words as another wave of pain hits. “P-pay no attention to the g-ghost behind the d-dumpster!”

“What the--?” Shinsou takes a few steps forward. “What happened to you? You sound like you’re dying, do you need me to call an ambulance?”

“No! N-No ambulance! I am a-okay.” Izuku forces the pain down, but he feels his transformation threaten again. This time it forms itself into a white halo around his midsection. That’s new. “I’m okay and you can just go back to your house, random citizen I do not know.”

A beat of silence. Izuku peers around the dumpster, and Shinsou is standing another step closer. He’s in his PJs—they’re cat-themed, very on brand, Izuku thinks, with pawprint patterned pants  and a t-shirt with the outline of a cat head and whiskers. If Izuku was not in so much pain right now, he’d try and crack a joke, but the halo forms again and Izuku has to force it away.

“Yeah, right, Phantom.” Shinsou deadpans. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but you sound like you’re hurt. And I want to help?”

“H-Help? So you can just t-turn me into the police?”

“What? No. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Y-You are a hero student.” Izuku retorts. “I’m surprised y-you haven’t gotten a—” Izuku whines as the pain hits him again. “—a class on “how to deal with vigilantes” yet.”

“You helped my class out at the USJ. You saved me from that fire.” Shinsou says. “Look, I have no idea how you knew what my Quirk is that day, it’s a little freaky. But I promise I won’t turn you in if you let me help you.”

“Y-Yeah, but—” The ring appears again. Izuku forces it down, but he feels his transformation flash, suddenly—his heartbeat appearing and disappearing in quick succession cuts off his sentence.

If Shinsou helps him, he’ll know Izuku’s identity. Izuku can’t hold onto his transformation for much longer. Turning human again might help ease the pain, but he’s conflicted. On the one hand, if he had to trust anybody with his identity, it would be Shinsou. They’ve been online friends for years, and they’ve told each other nearly everything about their lives. Izuku knows how many fights he and his dad have been in, Izuku knows that Shinsou’s mom is in jail for something (he’s never explained what), Shinsou knows that Izuku’s been bullied his whole life, his dad is dead, and that he’s supposed to be Quirkless.

But he still can’t help but fear—what if, what if, what if? What if Shinsou doesn’t believe me? What if he calls the police anyway? What if he turns me into scientists? What if he tells his dad and he tells my mom? What if—

Another bolt of fiery hot pain explodes through Izuku, and he feels his body spark again. The switch between ghost-human-ghost-human-ghost is almost as painful as the first time, and Izuku tries to get it to stop, to stop, please, dear god, stop.

He has to remind himself that he isn’t dying again, it isn’t quite as strong as that initial flash in the portal all those months ago, but damn, is it close to that.

Unfortunately, it feels like he’s out of options.

Shinsou is there, right at the end of the alleyway, and Izuku has a feeling that his friend is going to figure this out eventually. There’s no going around it. Izuku slipped up already with his identity, revealing that Phantom somehow knows what Shinsou’s Quirk is, so it’s only a matter of time. No matter what Izuku wants, though, it seems like something is about to break. His mask. Well, the brief anonymity of vigilantism was great while it lasted--

He groans, trying to ignore the pain.

“S-Shinsou—” Izuku ignores another flash of pain. He can’t see Shinsou, of course; he’s at the end of the alleyway, only taken a few hesitant steps in. The quick transformations, the side effect of him trying to desperately hold onto his ghost form as long as possible, even though it’s causing issues to begin with, are starting to give Izuku a bit of a headache. “—Shinsou, please, I need you to listen to me.”

“Okay. What?”

“If you—” Izuku shudders as another bolt of pain explodes. They’re becoming less common—further apart, at least, so maybe the attack is starting to wear off, at least. “—if you come closer, I need you to swear that you’ll trust every word I say.”

“H-huh?”

“I’ll explain it all, I promise, I just—” Ouch, ouch, ouch. “—look, if you come any closer to me, you’re going to have to promise everything I tell you will stay a secret, and you’ll trust every word I say. Because I—who I am, what I am, is going to completely change everything you know about this world, a-and about Quirks.”

“I, uh—”

“You promise?” Izuku feels his voice echo and distort on the last word a bit, ectoplasm shooting through him in a desperate attempt to help ease the pain, but hopefully it was all understood.

“I—Sure, I promise.”

Okay. Okay.

Shinsou promised, so hopefully—Izuku finally stops struggling with his core, and the bright light flashes one last time before he hears his heart beating loudly in his chest. Izuku can hear Shinsou’s footsteps echo through the alleyway as he approaches, and he can’t help but bury his face into his legs, pulling his body close to him as the pain starts to subside.

It’s better this way—now he doesn’t have to look at Shinsou as he approaches. He can pretend to hide away. Pretend this isn’t happening, for just a moment.

The footsteps eventually stop, and Izuku hears Shinsou take a sharp breath.

“M-Midoriya?”

Yep. That’s the exact tone that Izuku is expecting to hear.

He groggily lifts his head. It feels like his mouth is full of cotton. His ears are burning a bit, and his scar is thumping with pain in sync with his heartbeat.

Okay, say something cool. Say something cool, because this feels like a really un-cool moment. Sure, you and Shinsou are friends, but you should try and impress him with something, here.

“H-howdy…?”

God damn it.

✨👻✨

Hitoshi sighs. “So, let me get this straight.”

Midoriya is sitting on his bed, at two in the morning. He looks a little better than he did when Hitoshi had found him out in the alleyway by his apartment building an hour ago. And frankly, Midoriya should be lucky that it was Hitoshi and his irritating insomnia that had found him first, and not any other adult in the building. Any other adult would’ve called the cops, and Midoriya would’ve been arrested.

Because, he—Quirkless Midoriya Izuku—is the vigilante Phantom. The one who had saved him from a burning building, who had saved his class from the weirdos of the League of Villains, who had destroyed the monster-thing that they brought with them.

He.

Midoriya Izuku. Who has told him he is Quirkless, who has gotten bullied his whole life for being useless and Quirkless.

Is Phantom.

A quick cup of microwavable ramen noodles seems to be helping him recover his energy, at least, as he tries to not-too-loudly slurp it up, even though Hitoshi told him multiple times that his dad is out of town on a business trip to some Journalism conference.

“You’re Phantom.”

Midoriya nods, taking a large slurp from the instant noodles.

“Ghosts are real. And you are a ghost?”

“Half-ghost, technically.” Midoriya interjects.

“Half-ghost…?” Hitoshi pinches the bridge of his nose. “How is that even possible?”

“Well, do you want the long answer, or the quick one?”

“You have two answers to that question?” Hitoshi wants to hit his head against the wall. Because of course this might as well happen.

It at least explains a lot.

The vague familiarity with Midoriya’s voice when they first met in person—Hitoshi had thought it was just a voice he’d heard somewhere before on the streets, and that would’ve made sense, given they both live in Musutafu, they probably passed each other at one point.

But nope, apparently, the reason Hitoshi recognized his best friend’s face upon meeting him in real life for the first time is because he had just been saved by Midoriya’s vigilante persona!

And it explains how Phantom knew his Quirk at the USJ attack—which makes Hitoshi feel, at least, a little better, given how things can go with his Quirk. It isn’t some sort of weird, underground secret. His Quirk isn’t well-known in the vigilante world because of his ties to his mother, it’s because Midoriya made a mistake and slipped up during a stressful situation.

“Might as well just give me the whole story.” Hitoshi says. He’s not going to let Midoriya out of his sight for a bit after he’d found him having that horrible reaction to the electricity Quirk used on him. Not to mention—he’s very curious as well, sue him. His friend who has been Quirkless for his whole life has a Quirk? Even though he has the genetic mutation that makes Quirks impossible, and makes him wear those stupid red shoes—which he’s currently in his PJs, so he doesn’t have them, but Hitoshi can see that the pinkie toes on Izuku’s feet do look different than Hitoshi’s own.

Not that he’s staring at Midoriya’s feet like that, but it’s like—it’s like whenever someone has a mutant-type Quirk in public. The differences are strange to notice sometimes.

Midoriya stretches out his arm. Specifically, the one covered in the heaviest scarring. Hitoshi didn’t want to pry about those scars (nowadays, scars are a dime a dozen due to how often people get caught up in villain attacks, or accidents with their Quirks), but he had been wondering about them. Midoriya had said he had a health scare a few months ago, but he said was fine—wait, was that it…?

“Everyone thinks I got struck by lightning, but that isn’t true.” Midoriya says, his voice dropping a bit. “I mean, yeah, it was storming heavily that day, but it wasn’t from that. I ducked into an abandoned building for shelter. That was my first mistake. I ended up wandering into the basement of that building and finding ruins to something called a Ghost Portal.”

“A Ghost Portal?”

“Yeah.”

“To where? Ghosts?”

“Kinda? It’s a place called the Infinite Realms.” Midoriya explains. He sets the instant noodle cup—completely empty now— down on Hitoshi’s nightstand.

He pulls his legs into his body a bit more. His PJs are simple-- flannel plaid pants and a T-shirt that has a horribly drawn ghost on it with the word “boo” scribbled in English. Very on the nose.

“It’s kinda—well, I haven’t been there before, but it’s like… the place where everyone goes where they die. It’s organized off into different afterlives and realms, enough to be infinite, given its name. The Ghost Portal is supposed to lead there.”

“So there’s a Ghost Portal, how did—” The scars. The powers. Oh. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah, I got a little too curious, I guess.” Midoriya laughs, nervously, showing off his scarred palm. “I got hit with a lot of electricity and ectoplasm at once from the portal opening on top of me. So, while it killed me, it also revived me, but not all the way? They call me a halfa—half human, half ghost.”

Halfa… It’s an interesting name, for sure. Hitoshi would think it would be too insane if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Midoriya Izuku is explaining it to him.

“It’s actually really interesting because I figured out where Quirks come from in the process!” Midoriya adds, and he gets a sparkle in his eyes—literally. So, Hitoshi hadn’t imagined it the other day at the mall, when his eyes flashed a bright cyan for just a second. “There’s a lot of debate on the true origin of Quirks, but I’ve been able to figure out that a couple of centuries ago, a ghost portal had been opened somewhere in America by someone like me. The ectoplasmic radiation spread all around the world and mutated people in the process, forming mini-cores in people that would develop into Quirks! Though, because of these mini-cores, people aren’t actually forming ghosts anymore, unless they’re Quirkless. Which is how I survived the accident. If I hadn’t been born Quirkless, I’d be really, really dead, so my biggest weakness actually saved some of my life in the end, huh?”

All that information came out at a much faster speed, and Hitoshi is barely able to keep up with Midoriya. “Mido—slow down. What? Cores?”

“Oh! Yeah. For a ghost to form, it needs two things—a strong source ectoplasmic energy nearby, and very strong emotions. Or maybe three things, cause it also needs to be Quirkless, now, technically? Anyway, the emotions mixing with the ectoplasm forms a core, which is a ghost’s brain and heart, I guess.” Midoriya adds. “But for people with Quirks, there’s already a mini-core in their system due to their Quirk Factor! It kinda varies between Quirk and Quirk Factor, but I’ve theorized that the mini-cores tend to be around 1/100^th of an actual core.”

Oh. Theorized. 1/100^th. “So, wait, I have a core?” Hitoshi asks.

“Yeah! Every person with a Quirk has a very small mini-core, due to generations of ectoplasmic radiation mutating our bodies.”

That fact doesn’t sit well with Hitoshi. He leans back in his desk chair.

“This is a lot of information, I know. Sorry for just… Dumping it on you.” Midoriya says, after a pause. “I haven’t had anyone to talk to about ghost stuff since—well, for a while. At least, anyone who would believe me about this stuff.” He pauses again. “You do believe me, right?”

“If I hadn’t watched you defeat that Nomu thing, I might not have believed you.” Hitoshi says. The image still replays in his mind—even though Hitoshi is far away from that action and violence, he can see, barely, Phantom reaching his hand up through the Nomu’s chest and pulling something out, and then the Nomu falling to the ground.

Midoriya’s face falls a bit, and he bites his lip. “Yeah, I—I don’t know what the Nomu was. Someone had found a way to take multiple Quirk Factors and stitch them together into one being.”

Multiple Quirks? Hitoshi hadn’t really talked much to his classmates—other than Uraraka and Iida, and Tsu now, too—after the USJ attack. There were rumors, of course, that the Nomu was a genetically modified creature with multiple Quirks.

Hearing the confirmation from Midoriya so casually is a little chilling to Hitoshi, but he brushes it off.

“I now understand how my dad feels when he needs a drink.” Hitoshi deadpans.

“Wh—hey! I’m not that bad! Okay, look, I’d offer to drop off all my notes about ghosts, but I started writing them in code in case anybody stumbled upon them, so they’d be kinda useless. This is the best I can do with no preparation.”

“What could you do with preparation?”

“A PowerPoint, probably.”

“A PowerPoint?!”

“I have had to make so many PowerPoints in my online classes, I’m basically a PowerPoint Pro now. I’m lucky that I don’t have to present them live, and I just record myself. Do you know how easy it is to dispense information with a quick, PowerPoint presentation?”

“Midoriya, you’re insane.”

“Shinsou, I’m well aware.” He smiles, and for a second, it looks like his teeth are just a little sharper than normal. It would’ve been unsettling, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s Midoriya Izuku.

They sit in the silence of Hitoshi’s room for a bit. Midoriya does look like some color has come back to his skin now, at least. Not to say there was ever much to begin with, and now Hitoshi knows why. Half-ghost, huh?

It’s a huge secret. Hitoshi can see why Midoriya was so hesitant to let him help. Sure, his “help” was just helping Izuku up to his apartment and getting some food in the boy, but still. Midoriya’s secret is world-changing, and Hitoshi isn’t quite sure he can wrap his whole brain around it yet. He’s powerful. He’s got strength unrivaled by other pros by miles in his puny, scrawny, twiggy little body. He knows the origin of Quirks, he’s figured out the centuries-long question that has plagued scientists and researchers for years. If Midoriya’s secret ever gets out, it could be such a huge mess.

Not to mention, what would happen if the HPSC got ahold of him? Or rouge scientists, like the ones that might’ve put that Nomu together?

It’s not fair that Hitoshi knows all of this just because he stumbled into it. It’s not fair that Midoriya wasn’t the one who was able to tell him, and it all just happened like this. Life isn’t fair, though, he thinks.

“Did I ever tell you why my mom’s in jail?”

“H-Huh? Um, no?” Midoriya’s confidence seems to only exist as Phantom, as he’s back to stumbling on his words just like Hitoshi’s used to.

“She, uh, she was an assassin.”

“W-What?!”

“Yeah. Uh.” Hitoshi never likes talking about his mom. He mentions off-handedly that his mom is in jail sometimes, it’s his response if the question gets asked of him, but he never willingly shares it like this. “Her Quirk allows her to put ideas into people’s heads. She’d get paid to get big politicians and powerful heroes to kill themselves. She turned herself in after I was born and confessed, basically.”

“That’s—uh. Not what I expected.” Midoriya stammers. “Um, I’m sorry about your mom.”

“It’s fine. It’s her own decisions that led her there.” Hitoshi adds. “I get letters from her, sometimes. Dad visits her a lot. It’s… weird, y’know.”

“Y-yeah, I can’t imagine what that’d be like.” Midoriya pauses. “Um, why did you share that? N-Not that I mind, of course, I’m glad you feel like you can trust me with that stuff but I’m just curious—”

Hitoshi smiles and rolls his eyes. Oh, Midoriya…

 “You shared your biggest secret with me. I thought I’d share my biggest secret with you.”

Chapter Text

Shouta wishes that he didn’t have to come back to work today. Because maybe he wouldn’t have to deal with the news—

“What? We’re still hosting the Sports Festival this year?”

-- being repeated at a louder volume by Hizashi.

It isn’t unusual for Nedzu to call most of the staff in—at least, the teaching staff, not the staff that deals with the more mundane things, like administration or janitorial duties—for an early morning meeting before classes start. Shouta never likes them himself, but he’ll go if they’re important enough, and by the vocabulary used in the email he got when he first woke up this morning, it’s a necessary and important one.

The email’s subject line had read as following:

Important Morning Meeting Before Classes – Please Attend! That Means You, Too, Aizawa-san!

But Shouta wasn’t expecting… this.

He’s still a little bandaged up, but due to Phantom’s quick rescue of him at the USJ incident, he isn’t covered head-to-toe in bandages. His arm that had been hit by that villain’s quirk is still wrapped (annoying), but other than that, he’s just dealing with a bout of drier-than-normal eye from Quirk overuse that day. He’s glad he can get back as soon as classes start; he can’t imagine what would happen if one of the teachers who didn’t have a homeroom (such as Nemuri) took over for him. Or if they just mixed with Class 1-B while he was recovering.

That’d be worse.

Vlad, dealing with his students?

Actually—it might be fun to witness Vlad try and deal with his students, namely Bakugou.

“We are going to be changing how the Sports Festival will work this year.” Nedzu adds, though the tone in his voice is also… Annoyed? Melancholic? It isn’t as cheer and chipper as normal, which means something else is happening behind the scenes. Shouta has been around the rat-principal of U.A. for long enough to tell when something is off.

Strange.

Nedzu clears his throat, before he begins the explanation. “For starters, we are not following our model of typical admission. In previous years, the general public has been able to purchase tickets to attend in-person, but due to the USJ Incident, we will be switching to a more limited model. Tickets will be given out to U.A. alumni, professional heroes and their agencies who request it, and the families of U.A. students who will be attending. I have left individual packets for each student for the homeroom teachers to pass out during their morning class today. Each student will receive three tickets, but they are more than welcome to share or trade if they need to.”

That’s not… the worst, Shouta thinks. He’s never been a fan of the Sports Festival, for many reasons. The announcement of Quirks to the whole world was rather ridiculous; if a student wished to go underground, it might make it trickier if their Quirk was more unique or only had specific uses. Names and identities would be released, and while Shouta himself has gotten lucky that his case (of a general education student transferring to the hero course) was a rare case; it wasn’t the first and certainly won’t be the last, as long as he has something to say about it.

But limiting admission would definitely help; it would, at least, protect the students from the villains, if they dare to attack again.

“While we cannot break our contracts with several networks who will be broadcasting the festival, we have amended the details to limit the spread of the personal information of our students, especially including our first-year students.” Nedzu continues. “While our live commentary will still be done by Yamada-san and Aizawa-san, the networks have all agreed to use their own talent for their own commentary, and they will be given the basic details of the attending student and their quirks.”

Ugh. Shouta had tried to get out of it. He really, truly did—but all of his attempts failed. It’s your turn, Aizawa-san, the rat had told him. But at least now, instead of his voice being broadcast all across Japan, it would only be done for the live event. Still sucked he would be stuck up in the presenter’s booth with Hizashi—who always volunteers to do this—but it’d be better circumstances, at least.

All Might—or Yagi, as he is now, in his shrunken form—speaks up. “The Sports Festival is U.A.’s pride and joy, and the time to show off to the world what our students are capable of. Why are we going through this much effort to keep our students hidden away?”

“Great question. Yagi-san.” Nedzu doesn’t even flinch at Yagi’s tone. Shouta can’t even think of anyone who could intimidate Nedzu. “While it is, of course, an honor to have the number one hero teaching at our school here, we should not ignore the threats that we have been receiving lately, especially with the attack on our sister campus last week. If we host the Sports Festival open to the public as we usually do, it may encourage the villainous group to try again, or it may encourage copycat attacks.” Nedzu pauses only to take another sip of tea before he continues. “While we could not cancel this soon due to contracts and sponsors that have already been lined up, this modified version of the Sports Festival ought to provide our students with the correct eyes on them while putting them in the least amount of danger from villains, for now.”

Yagi blinks, before he clears his throat. “Ah, yes. I suppose that makes sense.”

Nice to see him get humbled every now and then, Shouta thinks.

After that, the rest of the meeting goes as they typically do—it was Nedzu’s only announcement, so most of the staff excuse themselves to get ready for their classes for the day. Shouta holds back, watching his co-workers exchange pleasantries on the way out, until it’s just the two of them in the room.

“What’s the real reason, Nedzu?” Shouta asks.

Nedzu’s smile never falters—it’s very rare when he bears a more serious look. But there’s a twitch in his eye, and he audibly sighs. “As you are aware, every year the HPSC is one of our largest donors and sponsors. Due to their unfortunate size and influence, they were against a complete cancellation of the event. It took a while to convince them to even go through with that we are doing for this year, and even then, not all of them are supportive of the modified plan.” He glances down at the paperwork in front of him, shuffling the papers together neatly.

Ugh. Of course. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. Shouta can’t think of any hero like himself—that is to say, an underground hero, or a hero who doesn’t care about the attention and notoriety of celebrityhood—that has had a positive interaction with the Hero Public Safety Commission. While the HPSC did have some good attributes about them, as they administered the hero licenses many pros use in order to get their job done, it doesn’t mean they weren’t shady as hell. Madam President—or, Sayaka Hidenka, though her full name is hardly used— seems too perfect, to good to be true in her position.

Nobody can be that perfect without hiding some shady shit.

Especially if the rumors about some of the top heroes are true.

“Well, no matter. While it might be risky to still host the sports festival this year, we have at the very least put in precautions for our students for the time being.” Nedzu perks up, though with the constant smile he has on his face, it isn’t clear that he ever was down. “Perhaps if this model works well, we can adapt it for future sports festivals as well. I always found it unnecessary to broadcast it live.”

You and me both, Nedzu, Shouta thinks, nodding. You and me both.

“Now, Aizawa-san, may I ask about a case you have been working on for the last few months.”

At that, Shouta perks up. He was about to walk to class, but—well his students are used to him being late, and while the lecture he would get from Iida would be a little annoying, being held up by the principal is at least a valid excuse. But the question is a little odd—during the year, Shouta finds himself juggling at least two or three cases at the time, but they tend to be smaller ones. Murder investigations, drug ring investigations, boring stuff. He probably knows which one Nedzu is asking about, but he still asks. “Which one?”

“Why, the one of the young vigilante, of course!” Nedzu says. “I myself am quite curious about him. While I haven’t done too much digging myself, it is very interesting how his identity has yet to be figured out by any hero, this late into his career!”

“We have it narrowed down.” Shouta replies. “A young teen who was probably not accepted into any hero school, with an unregistered ghost-like Quirk.” I’ve seen his face, too, Shouta thinks, but doesn’t add. He’s young. He’s as old as my students. Who could look at this boy and tell him no? That he couldn’t be a hero?

“Yes, I am aware of what is on file.” Nedzu replies, hopping off his chair and collecting his papers. “May I join you on your walk to your homeroom class so we can discuss this further?”

Ugh, of course Nedzu is interested. Though, the rat’s help might be what finally gets Phantom locked down—and maybe they can engineer a way for Phantom to get into a hero school, preferably U.A., where he could learn to properly use his Quirk to be a hero the right way.

“You are usually quite detailed in your reports after patrols every night, though for the ones where you encounter Phantom, the details are quite sparse. Is there a reason for that?”

And, of course, he’s already calling me out. Shouta thinks, as they step out of the room they use for their meetings. At least it’s Nedzu who’s noticing, and not any of the officers.

“The details of my encounters are usually irrelevant.” And typically, they are—Phantom helped with a mugging. Phantom helped with a drug deal gone wrong. Phantom helped a cat get out of a tree. The details, past that, are usually—well, Shouta wouldn’t call them personal, per say, but he thinks they give more information about who Phantom is as a person than Shouta would like to share with the police.

While he’s working with the police—and he would trust someone like Tsukauchi with his life—he doesn’t trust the police to do the right thing when it comes to Phantom. They’d arrest him, charge him. But while vigilantism is illegal—Quirk use is typically against the law in most places globally, except in instances of self-defense—Phantom hasn’t fallen into any other criminal activities, as far as Shouta is aware. Arresting him and charging him would put an end to the good that Phantom is doing, and it would put an end to any career that Phantom could have as a pro.

He doesn’t doubt Phantom’s potential as a hero. His skills are weak, of course, he doesn’t know how to hit right, but he seems to be good enough at dodging attacks to not worry about being hit too hard. But that won’t be enough for him.

He belongs in a place like U.A.

He belongs in a place where he can learn how to be a hero.

“If you say so, Aizawa-san.” Nedzu says. “Though, just between you and me, if you are able to convince Phantom to stop the vigilantism, there may be a position open here at U.A. waiting for him.” He grins like a madman. Or maybe, a mad-rat? Eh, it doesn’t matter—the grin is enough to send a shudder down Shouta’s spine. “Oh, would you look at that! We are already at your classroom door. Have a wonderful morning, Aizawa-san, and I will see you at lunch!”

That damn rat… Shouta clenches his fist, before opening the door to his chattering students. He can already feel the headache threatening to form.

✨👻✨

Sayaka Hidenka has worked hard for her position at the Hero Public Safety Commission, though she never knew this is where her life would lead when she first graduated from U.A. High’s General Education track.

Hidenka had always been fascinated by the world of heroes, but never saw herself becoming one. Her Quirk isn’t the strongest. Track, the name she gave it, allowed her to place mental pins on objects or people that would share their location with her at all times, but she only could get up to four pins at once before she started to feel sick. But she wanted to work with heroes nonetheless and ended up getting a pretty decent job at the Hero Public Safety Commission following her graduation.

Working up to become Madame President was tricky. Taking on the name and iconography of a hero without actually being one was even harder—though, very few outside of the Commission knew that Hidenka never was a hero to begin with, and had been a civilian who donned the personability of a hero. It was necessary, to get things done with the Commission. There was much to be fixed.

Vigilantes ran wild. Heroes were turning left and right, lost without a sense of direction. Potential heroes were being left on the streets to suffer and starve while spoiled brats from families of means became the heroes instead. The world was a mess—and it was up to Hidenka to fix it.

She started programs, like the Potential Heroes Initiative (PHI, or Φ), to help those on the streets with strong Quirks become the heroes they were destined to be. Not all of them worked, of course-- Tsutsumi Kaina, one of their first potential heroes, rebelled and became a no-good villain—but the program was rather successful. Hawks is number-three, and if the rumors of All Might’s retirement are true, he may soon claim the number-one hero spot.

PHI’s success rate is through the roof. Some heroes were honest about where they came from—the HPSC is very known for helping people in tough times, of course—but there are heroes who do not share their connections to the HPSC publicly. They’re not required to, of course—Hidenka doesn’t mind what her heroes do, as long as they listen to her, of course.

But there’s one small problem she needs to deal with, still.

“A-Ah, Madame President?” The voice of her personal secretary breaks her train of thought, as he nervously squeaks the door to her office open, and stutters on his words like an old-fashioned train.

“Yes, Klaus?” Klaus might be a foreigner—born and raised in Scandinavia—but he took to the Japanese language well, aside from, of course, his annoying stutter.

“W-Well, u-um.” Klaus accidentally lets the door shut behind him loudly, and he adds an apology before continuing. “W-We got, u-um, the report f-from the Musu—Musutafu—polive department that y-you asked f-for.”

Ah. Yes. The small problem.

Typically, Madame President does not pay attention to vigilantes. They’re usually no-names, they come and go like the clouds in the sky. The trash tends to take themselves out—literally. Either by getting themselves killed, or falling too deep into the dark side of villainy to be saved. They don’t last more than a few months on the street. There are a few individualized rehabilitation programs that the HPSC sponsors, of course, but that’s nothing more than tossing a few hundred thousand yen towards the programs every year.

But there’s one vigilante that has caught Hidenka’s eyes.

Phantom.

Typically, Hidenka would not have even heard of him, were it not for the Hero Vlad King—one of their proud PHI heroes, though he was not public of his connection. The name drop was by accident in one of his meetings with his handler, a woman named Ryu; the investigation started immediately.

“Set it on my desk, please, Klaus.”

“O-Of course, M-Madame President.” Hidenka hears the shuffling of papers, and the dropping of a few, before they’re unceremoniously dropped in the middle of her desk. “I-Is there anything, uh, anything e-else, M-Madame President?”

Hidenka turns her chair around to face Klaus. “Let Mera know I will be late for our meeting this afternoon. Actually, reschedule it for some time tomorrow for me, please. I need to take my time with this report.”

Phantom. A young vigilante, with a powerful Quirk.

A perfect candidate for their PHI program, if you ask her.  

✨👻✨

“Danny! Danny! Is it true?”

There are very few spirits in the realms that use Equinox’s living name, still; he’s not surprised when he turns around in his lair and finds Ellie has invited herself inside. She’s a part of his Fraid, so she’s able to get away with her unannounced visits, but even if she wasn’t, Equinox is sure she would find her way inside.

Ellie is an interesting being. Because she was never born as a living person, she never died as a living being, and still has access to both a ghost form and a human form. She’s a genetic clone, a chimera of Danny’s DNA (mixed with a little bit of Plasmius’, which, ew, gross, Equinox tries to not think about it) and ectoplasm. She’s not a halfa, even though he is technically half-human, half-ghost, but how can one live and die when they were never born in the first place?

“There’s a lot happening all the time, can you be a bit more specific?”

“Rumors are going around that the Realms chose a new Champion. Is it true?”

Ah, yes.  Word gets around fast in the Realms, despite how large and—literally—infinite it can be. The fact that young Midoriya Izuku is the new Champion of Balance still weighs heavily on Equinox’s shoulders. While he’s lucky to be stuck in a time and place where there’s very little anti-ghost technology and very little can hurt him, it’s also a curse. He has no access to the realms.

Amorpho owed King Phantom one last favor, so Equinox sent him to Musutafu, Japan, to help Midoriya Izuku out with his powers just enough so that the young halfa wouldn’t be entirely alone. Halfas are strong, he won’t need access to the Infinite Realms for many years to come (especially with the ambient ectoplasmic radiation that had spread around the globe following Equinox’s ascension into the King of the Realms, that led to the mutation of humans and the development of “quirks”), but he’s still cut off from his people.

Midoriya Izuku, after all, is the Champion of Balance—for both the living and the dead-- so, he is of both realms. Just as Equinox used to be.

“Ah, yeah.” Equinox sighs. “We had very little choice. The Alpha timeline would’ve destabilized, and that would’ve been an even bigger mess to fix.” Thank the Ancients that the Realms only requires one Champion of Balance to survive, he thinks, biting down on his lip.

“Wow.” Ellie says. She sets an arm on his shoulder gently, and Equinox can feel her core resonate with his. Since they’ve been ghosts for so long now, their cores don’t even translate the feelings between them anymore. Just the feelings. “Are they okay?”

“Yes. For now, at least.” Equinox perks up a bit. He isn’t—he isn’t going to deny the fact that he has quickly grown attached to the new Champion of Balance, but he isn’t going to outright confirm it. Of course, his core sung out when he learned that Midoriya had taken on the name of Phantom, albeit unintentionally.

After a moment of silence, Ellie speaks up, again. “Are you okay?”

Ah. Equinox isn’t surprised that Ellie picks up on it too quickly. Her core is resonating with his, still, of course, so of course she’s picked up the feelings bubbling inside him that he can’t describe in words. Resentment is too tough of a word, disappointment is too gentle. Something in-between perhaps, but even then, it’s too rough to figure out.

“As okay as I can be.” Equinox finally responds. “It is not in my control. The Realms need their Champion to keep the balance, after all. We would have had to cave to Her will eventually, or everything we’ve built would be at stake.”

“Still, that doesn’t mean you can’t not feel okay. Or, wait. You can feel not okay. Uh.” Ellie shakes her head. “Either way. You’re allowed to feel upset by this all.”

Equinox rolls his eyes. “Have you been hanging out with Jazz, lately?”

Ellie freezes, clenching her teeth. “I will neither confirm nor deny any association or recent visit to our sister—”

“Yeah, sure. How is she, by the way?”

“Doing fine. You know, you’re not King anymore, so you can go visit her when you want.”

“I—I know. A lot has happened.”

“Maybe talking to Jazz, the former Princess of the Realms, and current Ghost Therapist, will help!” Ellie suggests. “Well, I mean, she can’t really therapize you because you’re related and all, but she can probably provide better sisterly advice than I can.”

“You’re right. Maybe I will stop by and visit her.” Equinox nods, leaning on his staff. “Where have you been recently, anyway?”

Ellie groans, tugging on the hood of her cloak. “Well, Clockwork had me on a mission to fix timeline Beta D-C’s sorcerer issue. That was a logistical nightmare.”

“You’re the one who decided to become their apprentice.”

“Yeah, ‘cause they said I would be able to travel more to different realms and timelines and stuff! I didn’t imagine it would be so much fucking paperwork to be Time’s Apprentice!” Ellie sighs. “But, well, they don’t have anything for me to work on right now, so I’m free for a bit. I just picked a direction and flew, and then I ended up at your Haunt!”

The Haunt of the Ancient of Space isn’t as easy to find as the typical Haunt. He made sure it was built far away from Pariah’s Keep, but close enough to the central realms that he wouldn’t be disconnected from everything like Clockwork could be, sometimes. It’s not much—a floating island like many other haunts, a large observatory where he can observe the stars and planets of many different timelines and realms in peace. But it’s his home, it’s what he always imagined his home would be.

Equinox chuckles. “Well, I’m glad to see you back, then. Will you stay for long?”

“Maybe! Though, now that there’s a halfa around, I might head to the Alpha timeline and check ‘em out.”

“Elle, no.” Equinox interrupts.

“Elle, yes!”

“I don’t think he could handle a ghost like you—”

“Ha! I wouldn’t beat him up too much, don’t worry.” Ellie grins, all sharp teeth like a shark.

“At least explain the ghost customs before you fight, please?”

“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.”

“Elle. Elle, wait—” She’s already flying off.

Great. Equinox sighs. His position on the council doesn’t bind him to the observants, so nothing is technically stopping him from visiting the young new Champion himself, either; it’s his own thoughts that are getting in the way. He’s too torn on everything to decide—his first time meeting an Ancient was a rough one, and he doesn’t want that for young Izuku. But at the same time, he does want to meet the new Champion, a little bit, and help guide him in a way he should have been guided long ago when he first became the Champion of Balance.

Do I mentor him?

Can he do it on his own, with the world the way that it is now? Or will he need help?

How do I help him without overstepping?

✨👻✨

Only time will tell what happens to young Midoriya Izuku.

And Clockwork is keeping their eye on him.

Chapter Text

Izuku expected a lot of things to change when Shinsou learned his identity as Phantom, but in reality, nothing really changed.

Well, one thing changed. Izuku was now incredibly and irrevocably aware of his weakness to electricity. It made sense, in a way; the thing that killed him would be one of his weaknesses, wouldn’t it? The threat of tasers on police officers, the danger of subtle or unseen electricity quirks on strangers, be it friend or foe—heck, even just getting zapped by a power outlet might cause a lot more pain than it would a normal person.

He knew that the obvious thing to do would be to find out a way to combat this weakness. Luckily, the electric quirk user who had been able to zap him before had been knocked out quickly after his initial attack and didn’t remember Izuku’s full reaction to the sensation of volts tearing his body apart again. Well, hopefully. Izuku isn’t about to break into a prison—even if it isn’t as high security as Tartarus—and talk (or: vaguely threaten as much as he could when he still looks twelve) to the guy and find out. Nope, no sirree.

But how? How would he go about doing that, other than wrapping himself up in rubber to keep the electricity away from him? It’d have to be something he thought on, for a while.

Other than the sudden awareness of his one weakness, his Achilles’ heel, nothing changed. Shinsou knows, now, sure. No police officers have shown up at his door to arrest him, he hasn’t gotten accosted in broad daylight as just Midoriya Izuku by any pro heroes trying to take him in. Nothing. Shinsou is keeping his secret, which is a weight off Izuku’s chest that he did not expect to be as heavy as it was.

“Midoriya.”

“Hm?” Izuku’s blinks when he hears Shinsou call his name.

They agreed to meet at a local café this time; not a cat café, but just a small café, to get homework done together. Even though they go to different schools, some of the things they’re learning—math and science and history—are still the same. He’s trying to ignore the way that Shinsou has been not-so-subtle-y angling one of his notebooks where Izuku could see it. One about hero stuff from his hero classes.

I shouldn’t read it but I’m so curious, he thinks, but he’s trying to focus on his own homework, an essay for his Fashion History class, but he can’t help but try and sneak little peeks at it.

“Can I… Uh, ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“So, for the Sports Festival, I’m sure you heard how they’re doing it this year.”

Yeah, Izuku thinks, glumly. Hearing that it was not going to be broadcast live from U.A., but live highlights would be shared with a ten-minute delay with local sports stations instead, was a bummer. And tickets would only be offered to pro-heroes and the students families, too, bigger bummer. Sure, Izuku could probably just… sneak in and watch from the sidelines invisible and cheer Shinsou and Shinsou’s friends on, but still.

He gets it, though—probably more than any other “civilian”, given the fact he was at the USJ when they were attacked and helped fight back against the evil team. But still. A little sad.

“I, uh. I was wondering if you’d like my extra ticket. All of us got three tickets, but someone was asking for just one more, and since it’s just my dad who was coming, I still have an extra one. Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you want to, and if you can, then, uh, it’s an open offer?” Shinsou starts to ramble a bit, but Izuku’s brain has already fried.

Ticket. To the sports festival. To see it. Live. Shinsou should have just gotten down on one knee and proposed—platonically, of course, Izuku doesn’t really see anyone romantically like that—instead.

“Shinsou.” Izuku hisses, bringing his voice down low.

“Ah—huh?”

“Yes. Yes, of course!” Oh my god, a ticket to the sports festival? To see everything live? To see all those hero students and Quirks, live and in person? To try that delicious looking food that people always talk about? Izuku doesn’t realize how loud he responds until Shinsou flinches at the sound of his voice. He lowers it, quickly, ignoring the looks a few of the other café-goers are giving them now. “Who do you think I am? Of course I’d love to see the U.A. Sports Festival live!”

“Ah—well, I figured.” Shinsou replied. “Didn’t know if you already had plans to sneak in, though.”

“What, me? Sneak in?” Izuku laughs, nervously, trying to ignore the fact that there was a very detailed plan of how to sneak into the Sports Festival, see all the different classes participating, and manage to find a way to annoy Eraser-san in the process, hiding under the pillow of his bed. “That’s a… ridiculous… thought…”

“Mhm. Sure.” Shinsou rolls his eyes, smirking a bit, the nerves from before all but gone. “The school is requiring background checks of everybody who gets a ticket, just a heads-up.”

“I have never committed a crime in my life, ever.”

“That’s a lie and we both know it.”

Oh, right. It’s strange to remember Shinsou knows, Shinsou knows I’m Phantom, because of how tight Izuku keeps his secret to his chest. But of course, Shinsou knows. Izuku mends his previous statement. “I have never committed a crime that could be connected to me.”

“Of course, of course, right. Midoriya Izuku has never committed a crime.” Shinsou smirks a little wider. “The ticket will come in an email and you’ll either need it on your phone or printed.”

“Easy-peasy.” Izuku’s dad invested in a used laser printer before he was born and the old thing is still kicking in the corner of his mom’s bedroom. “Also, call me Izuku now.”

“W-What?”

“You’re probably my best friend.” Izuku pauses. “You’re also my only friend so I don’t have much to compare it to, but still. You’re my best friend. You can call me just Izuku now.”

“Okay, Mi—Izuku. You can call me Hitoshi, then.”

Hitoshi. Izuku smiles wide, not even caring about the weird looks he’s getting.

It’s not so bad having a friend.

✨👻✨

“Eraser-san! Welcome back!”

Oh, god, please, no. It’s only two in the morning. It’s too early for this. He doesn’t want to deal with the problem child this early.

Phantom swings out of the heavens to greet Shouta, landing on the roof that he’s standing on. The vigilante has two travel mugs in his hand, and he holds one out to Shouta. Phantom looks as innocent as he can be—or as innocent as Nedzu can be, honestly, that comparison alone is too creepy for Shouta to dwell on—but Shouta hesitates.

“I don’t—”

“Coffee with two creams, one sugar, and a spoonful of honey.” Phantom interrupts, without a breath. “That’s what you always get, right?”

He’s right, but Shouta tries to not let the fact that Phantom somehow knows his coffee order perfectly phase him. He replies with a grunt, taking the cup from Phantom and taking a sip. It is, in fact, coffee with two creams, one sugar, and a spoonful of honey. The honey is always the strangest addition, Hizashi makes fun of him a lot when they happen to end up grading papers together at the café down the road from U.A. instead of in their offices separately, but it’s good.

“You better not be drinking coffee.”

“Oh, no, it’s hot cocoa.” Phantom replies, taking a sip. “Don’t like coffee. Gives me a headache. Makes me hyper.”

Shouta is an atheist, but he sends a prayer up to whatever god is in the heavens right now thanking them for that. He’s experienced a hyper Phantom before, but the fact that he doesn’t like coffee feels like it’s a life-saver.

They stay there in silence, for a bit. Shouta has his earpiece in, tapped into the local police radio, but it seems to be a quiet night. Phantom is floating, legs crossed mid-air, slowly taking sips from his cup of hot cocoa. His hood and mask are down, and his white hair is floating in the slight breeze. There’s still that faint familiarity to Phantom’s face, but he can’t quite put it together; though, that’s not what he’s thinking about now.

Shouta’s been pulled up to date by Tsukauchi since returning to patrols. The main theory about Phantom now is that he is somehow related to one of the largest boogeymen of the underground villain network, a man known as All For One, who has lived for hundreds of years with a Quirk that supposedly could take other Quirks away. Did he believe the theory?

There was… Some credence to it, he can’t deny it.

It would explain the multiple Quirks, but if Phantom was indeed related to this All For One, it doesn’t explain a lot of things. Why would he be a hero? Why now? His Quirk is not like the one All For One is rumored to have. Rumored, because Shouta can’t quite trust the words that come out of All Might’s mouth sometimes, sure, of course, there’s no way that Bakugou isn’t aggressively violent to some of his classmates, that sure isn’t a problem.

Phantom claims, up and down, to not even have a Quirk, either. Shouta doubts that’s the full truth, the poor kid was probably raised to believe that his Quirk wasn’t a Quirk, perhaps a deformity or curse. But even then, his Quirk doesn’t match what All For One is supposed to have.

Phantom’s powers make sense, together. The energy manipulation is strange, sure—but they’re made of the same weird, green energy that seems to make up his blood, then how is that not just a Quirk similar to Vlad’s?

Phantom cuts off his thoughts. “You’ve got a thinkin’ face on. What’s up, Eraser-san? Drug gangs to bust? Muggers to beat up? Villains to catch?”

“No.” Shouta responds.

“Oh.”

“Phantom.”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this?” Shouta asks. “Risking your life. Coming out every night to put yourself in danger. Isn’t there someone at home who would worry about you doing this?”

Phantom pauses, mid-sip, before his arm slowly lowers. He looks away from Shouta, into the distance of the with its sparking lights and night life. The glow around him flickers, a bit; the bright cyan in his eyes fades, too.

“Eraser-san, I…” Phantom sighs. “For my whole life, I was told I couldn’t be a hero, no matter what. That I was just useless, pathetic. People tried to drive me to suicide because of my dreams. I never gave in, until… I met my biggest hero, and he told me the same thing. That it’s unrealistic.”

No… Shouta stays silent, allowing the vigilante to continue without interruption, but he can’t ignore the pit in his stomach that’s starting to grow.

“I didn’t want to give up, but it all felt hopeless.” Phantom looks down at the cup, picking a malformed piece of plastic from the lid off. “I didn’t—I didn’t kill myself on purpose, if that’s what you’re wondering. It was an accident. But then, I found myself with these amazing powers, and I couldn’t just stand by when I can make actual good in the world, you know? I didn’t intend to become a vigilante like this, but it was helping people out one after another and the next thing I know, I’m here on a rooftop with one of the coolest underground heroes ever. I can’t say I don’t regret dying, but I can say that it did change my life for the better.”

I didn’t kill myself on purpose.

I don’t regret dying.

An accident.

Shouta doesn’t believe in ghosts—there’s no empirical evidence to back them up. It’s illogical to think about lives after death and what happens to people when they die when he has to focus on not letting people around him die.

But the familiarity with death that Phantom talks about—it makes Shouta wonder and pause. Not on the fact that Phantom could be a full, 100% ghost—but Quirks are weird.

Is it not impossible to wonder if a Quirk could mutate and only be activated after the body dies?

“Why not try to get into a hero school, then?” Shouta asks, after the silence stretches out for too long. With your Quirk, you could be a great hero, he could say, but that doesn’t feel right. Instead, he settles for, “They could teach you how to use your… powers and teach you how to use them for the greater good.”

Phantom lands on the ground, crumpling the now empty cup in his hands. He pulls the mask back up to cover his face. “I tried, but Eraser-san, I was Quirkless, before. No hero school would ever let a Quirkless person in.”

U.A. would, Shouta wants to bite back, but he freezes. Would they? Would they ever let a Quirkless person into their school? Of course, there’s no saying a Quirkless hero would be a bad hero. They would be able to do a great number of good, and their immunity to drugs such as Trigger would be a huge benefit for the underground drug rings. But they would need to rely on technology to protect themselves, weapons and support items a teenager wouldn’t normally have access to.

They’d be overlooked. Overshadowed by their peers. They’d have to work more than twice as hard as their naturally blessed classmates for just a crumb of what others are easily able to do.

“A Quirk isn’t what makes a person a hero.” Shouta finally finds some words to say to the young vigilante. They feel a little clunky as they come out of his mouth, but he hopes that Phantom will find some comfort in them. “A hero isn’t somebody with a flashy Quirk, either. How you were treated was wrong, Phantom. I hope you understand that, now.”

Phantom looks at Shouta, his eyes filling with tears. After a beat, he flickers out of view, empty and bent cup of hot cocoa left behind. 

I was Quirkless before.

Quirkless, huh?

That helps narrow down Shouta’s list, though, in the seemingly never-ending hunt for the vigilante’s identity.

Chapter Text

It’s unfortunate that the biggest clue to Phantom’s identity is plopped into Shouta’s lap right before the biggest event of the year—the Sports Festival—but he’s able to at least meet with Tsukauchi the night before to discuss the new development.

“Quirkless?” Tsukauchi repeats.

“Don’t make me say it again.” Shouta replies. He hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep over the last few days—from his patrols starting back up again, to dealing with Phantom, and his own students (who would probably adore the vigilante if they ever met him), and grading homework and helping get ready for the Sports Festival, and, wow, maybe he should consider using some of that PTO he’s built up over the last few years sooner rather than later.

…Nah, he’ll relax when he’s dead.

“That explains… So much, and nothing at all.”

I know. It explains how they haven’t been able to find anyone with a Quirk similar to Phantom’s. Why they haven’t been able to get any leads on Phantom since the vigilante appeared. Why the small bits of facial detail Shouta could remember, from those moments where Phantom took off the face mask, brought up nothing in any system.

“We’ll need to focus the search on Quirkless teens who died within the last… Year, or maybe two years.” Shouta adds.

“Died, but why…?” Tsukauchi stops, and then his face pales, a bit. “Oh, god.”

“Quirks are strange. I wouldn’t be surprised if a Quirk were to activate after the user’s… death…” Shouta ignores the way his voice catches, ever so slightly, in his throat. He continues. “Phantom told me it was an accident, but by the way it sounded, it wasn’t by the hand of someone else. We might need to focus on those ruled suicides--”

“--Yes, of course. But, uh, Aizawa, do you--”

“What?” Shouta bites back, a little curtly. Damn, he needs more coffee. The two cups in the last few hours haven’t been enough. “Sorry, haven’t gotten a lot of sleep. What’s wrong with that?”

“Do you… know how many of those there will be?” Tsukauchi asks, crossing his arms. He looks tired, too; probably tired because Shouta let himself into Tsukauchi’s, unannounced, right after a patrol ended, and promptly woke him up. He’s barely wrapped in a bathrobe, and his five o’clock shadow is growing back strong. “Aizawa. There’s a reason that there’s such a high mortality rate for Quirkless people. Looking for Phantom’s identity might be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Precincts all around Japan get calls on a weekly basis about young Quirkless people who harm or kill themselves.”

High mortality rate.

“I never gave in, until… I met my biggest hero, and he told me the same thing. That it’s unrealistic.”

“Ah. Right.” Shouta slows down. He hadn’t even considered that to be a factor—another major roadblock. Of course, he had been bullied mercilessly by his own peers for his Quirk when he was younger—he could not imagine what a Quirkless person would go through, especially if they wanted to be a hero as much as the next person. How many times would they be pushed, goaded, taunted into giving up on their dreams, because of the way they were born?

At least Shouta had a Quirk. A chance.

And now, well—Phantom did, too.

It was an accident.

If only he hadn’t had to die in order to get the chance.

✨👻✨

Hidenka is meticulous. Hidenka is timely. Hidenka is up late at night, waiting for someone to visit her.

It’s not uncommon for Hidenka to stay up late, especially during times as these. Nothing was amiss in Tokyo or the greater Japan area, of course; she’s up late at night getting everything finalized for U.A.’s Sports Festival the following day. Last-moment adjustments and changes—ever so annoying, but the HPSC relies on the help of U.A. as much as U.A. relies on them.

It’s a mutually beneficial agreement.

One that the little rat Nedzu is messing with.

Hidenka isn’t racist, of course. She respects every Quirked person she comes in contact with, but if she was given the chance to punt the rat into the sun she would take it, no questions asked.

When he’d been promoted to be U.A.’s new principal following a long tenure as a Heroics instructor, Hidenka had hoped that he would be just as easy to get along with as his predecessor.

But it seems that Nedzu has bigger plans for U.A., some of which don’t include the support of the HPSC. He’s been able to divest away most of the funds that they give to the best hero school in the country, sourcing it from other, more local needs. What the HPSC does provide covers the large, expensive, showy occasions. Sports Festivals every year, the temporary hero support staff during entrance exams and final exams, the whole nine yards. But even there, Nedzu has slowly been requesting less, and less, and U.A. is slowly slipping from Hidenka’s grip.

… From the hands of the HPSC, of course.

Their last proposal to all but cancel the Sports Festival because a few students got too close to some villains was, in Hidenka’s eyes, ridiculous. They’re Hero students, they’re going to be dealing with villains at some point in the future. An early encounter with villains such as the “League of Villains”—a pity of a dumb name, to begin with—only gives them an advantage over their peers. More experience in dealing with actual situations, not the silly training exercises the school puts on for them. Canceling the Sports Festival to protect the students of Class 1-A, the class that had been attacked, robs the other students of the opportunity to show themselves off to the rest of the world, to the professionals who will offer internships, to the villains to show that the world will not bend to the darkness. It’s ridiculous, and Hidenka told Nedzu so.

“Well, I suppose we may differ there. What sort of compromise can we come to, Sayaka-san?”

Oh, and always with those honorifics, too. She’d never been called Madame President in the entire time that she’s known Nedzu, even in their brief encounters before he ascended to the throne of principal of U.A. High. Hidenka might not have been a hero by training or by blood, but she earned the title of—

“--Ah, Madame President?” Her assistant, Mera clears his throat as he steps into her office. A smaller shadow is following right behind him. “Hawks has arrived.”

Ah, Hawks. Hidenka can’t stop the small smile that forms on her face. Hawks is the latest—and the best—graduate of the PHI program. Rescued from poverty and suffering at such a young age, he’d grown into a strappingly handsome and incredible hero, already at the number-three spot in only four short years of graduating.

Hidenka remembers the day that she had first seen Takami Keigo. He was so small when they had first met—only three, or maybe nearly four—with large, golden eyes. He was a rather quiet child, and shyly hid behind his caseworker as she introduced him to Hidenka.

When the Quirk had first popped up in Quirk Registry—Wings—it hadn’t stuck out as much. But, oh, Hidenka knows a good Quirk when she sees it. Wings might not have been much when it first formed, but the way that Keigo had not only managed to develop his Quirk to manipulate his feathers, and use them as successful weapons? Well, they had a hero on their hands there.

“Thank you, Mera.” Hidenka nods, subtly motioning for him to leave the room. Mera nods back, and turns on his heel, being sure to carefully close the door behind him.

Hawks doesn’t look too confused. It’s not an uncommon thing—for Hidenka to invite him at such a late time, for something such as this. There are a few small bags under his eyes, but he’s dressed in his official hero costume, only a little disheveled. Probably just off a nighttime patrol when Hidenka had requested him.

“Madame President.” Hawks says. He’s definitely a little tired—Hidenka will be sure to offer him his room at the HPSC for the night.

“Hawks. How have you been, darling?” It isn’t a lie that Hidenka has felt a little—well, motherly—over him since the day they’d first met. Of course, Hidenka never planned to be a mother, or birth any children, but when a child’s basic hygiene and bodily needs are taken care of for her, it’s much more fun to pretend to be a mother. Not to mention, Keigo’s mother never, ever, cared to contact him again once she had been paid the full stipend.

To be fair, she had died a few years after Keigo was accepted to the PHI program. Not that Keigo knew about it. It isn’t necessary information.

“I’m good. Just a little tired, long patrol tonight.” He stretches out his wings—shrunken down and small now, to better fit within the building—and yawns as he speaks. “You said you wanted to talk to me, boss?”

“No need for the ‘boss’, Keigo.” Hidenka chuckles. “I have known you since you were little. Sayaka-san is fine.” She doesn’t let many call her Sayaka-san, but for Keigo, for any of her PHI program graduates, she can make an exception.

He ignores her request. He’s always been the most rebellious of her students—other than the one who shall not be named, of course—but in a playful way. “So? What’s goin’ on? New mission, or something?”

“Ah, yes, I do have a mission for you.” Hidenka replies, turning back to her desk. “I do wish one day we could meet up on unofficial business, just like we used to, but such is adult life, I suppose. Allow me to grab the files.” They’re right out on her desk. She had been glancing through them before working on finalizing last-minute changes for the Sports Festival.

Keigo watches her, carefully. His golden eyes always remind her of a hawk; which, she supposes, fits him the best, as his wings closely resemble a red-tailed hawk. She makes sure the papers are securely in their folder before passing it off to Keigo.

“I’m not sure if you have heard of the new vigilante working out of Musutafu. Phantom, he calls himself.” Hidenka explains, watching as her little bird opens the folder up curiously, and reads through the first page. The collection is all the police reports that she could legally get her hands on, and a few pages provided by a police officer friend she knew that weren’t public information. “There’s no official name for his Quirk, but it’s very, very strong. Flight, intangibility, invisibility…”

“So, he’s a ghost?”

“He claims to be one.” Hidenka adds.

Keigo’s brows furrow. “And, what do you want me to do with him? I can’t kill—”

“No, no, Keigo! I do not want you to harm him. No, I want—we want—to help him.” Hidenka clasps her hands together. “Remember the program you were a part of, many years ago, that brought you here?”

Keigo pauses, and then nods.

“Our little vigilante Phantom here is a perfect candidate for the next… class, so to speak. A powerful Quirk and a drive to be a hero, all traits you and your predecessors showed me so many years ago. I want you to reach out to him, and convince him to join our program, and we will be able to offer him the life he wants without him breaking the law anymore.” Hidenka explains.

“And what if he doesn’t want to join?” Keigo asks.

“Of course he’ll want to join.”

“But what if—”

“Keigo.” Hidenka snaps. The already quiet room falls silent, and Hawks’ eyes grow wide.

Such a strange expression to see on his face. The face of a bird of prey—terrified, scared, prey himself.

She takes a second, clearing her throat. “If—by chance—Phantom does not wish to come willingly, then we will have to get him off of the streets some other way. He’s not immortal, Keigo. He’s a child. He will have a weakness.”

Keigo nods. The terrified expression fades a bit, but it’s still there.

“Oh, Keigo, darling, I’m so sorry for snapping at you. But you get caught up in your head sometimes about these what-ifs and who’s-its, and it’ll distract you from your mission at hand.” Hidenka rests her arms on Keigo’s shoulders, keeping her voice soft and low. “Phantom is a vigilante, but he is also a child, and inexperienced. You just need to do what you do best. Make him your friend, and I’m sure he’ll see reason.”

“R-Right. Of course.” Keigo says.

“Perfect. Now, darling, I know it’s a long flight back to your apartment. Why not spend the night in your room here? It will give you some time to go over your new mission properly.”

He doesn’t say anything. He nods, mutely, bowing to her a bit.

“Goodnight, Sayaka-san.”

“Goodnight, Keigo. Sleep well, little bird.” She watches as Keigo leaves her office, files in hand, before she turns back to look at the night sky. From her view at the top of the HPSC tower in the middle of Tokyo, she can see a storm brewing in the distance.

✨👻✨

I

It’s been a long time since she’s been to the world of the living.

Or, well; in this specific timeline, at least.

Eleanor “Ellie” Myling goes through a lot of different timelines. When Clockwork had approached her, many eons ago, offering stability in her life, well; she had been hesitant to take it. She had only just found some semblance of an identity all on her own—no longer Dani-with-an-I Phantom, she had taken on new names. New names that were hers, nobody else.

Eleanor—it was a name that belonged to her DNA donor’s mother. Madeline Eleanor Fenton was her full name, but the name Madeline and Maddie had been so terribly tainted by one man. But Eleanor was nice. Eleanor—and Elle, too—fit right. She heard the name and she knew that it was not just her name, but her Name. Just as Danny had become Phantom and then Equinox, i became her Name.

Now, she didn’t need a last name, herself. She was, after all, a ghost, and a Neverborn at that, so she didn’t need more or less than just Elle. But Ellie was different than other Neverborn, she was sentient and had thoughts and feelings and knew how to express them more than just with vibrations of her core, and while Phantom no longer fit nor belonged to her, it felt like there was an empty space in her core that needed filled, so she went on a journey to fill it.

And what a journey it was! Traveling across Europe for the—fourth, maybe fifth time?—right as the Alpha timeline started developing their own superpowers. It was rough, she won’t deny it. The way that those with powers—those with Quirks, as they would later be called—were hunted, hurt, killed by the people who didn’t have them, just because they were different? It was horrible. Even more so when she realized that those people killed couldn’t form ghosts of their own and seek revenge.

She was train-hopping in Scandinavia when another wanderer like herself—a young mom and her teenage son—introduced her to a small group of these Quirked individuals after seeing her shoplift in a small town by phasing items into her body. An old trick she learned from Danny. They sat around a small compound in the wilderness, told stories about the creatures that roamed the night, and one story stood out to her.

The myling. Ghosts of children, murdered by their parents when they were deemed unwanted, forced to wander the earth until they were able to be buried and put to rest properly. The story stood out to Ellie because, well—obviously there was a kinship to it, other than the fact that the myling of old were probably a little more murderous than she could ever be.

After destabilizing so many times, the sight of blood—both red and green—would make Ellie nauseous.

But the story of the myling stood out to her. She was one of those myling herself, was she not? Created by someone only to be sentenced to death, forced to wander the Earth until she could find someone to help put her to rest. Of course, Ellie never wanted to move on to the Beyond—she doubted she could, given how she was made—but in every journey she took, her core longed for a purpose. She was built to destroy Danny, all those years ago, but she rebelled, and now what?

What is her purpose?

Clockwork had offered her a purpose. To be their apprentice, their assistant. They oversaw all timelines, all different threats of the great woven blanket of time, but even they had their own limits. They could not fix the holes that broken in the blanket of time, and it was slowly getting ratty. They needed another ghost to help stitch the holes in time up, and that became Elle’s job.

She was hesitant at first. She had never known stability in her life. But Clockwork never leads anyone wrong, and now here she is, time’s own apprentice.

It left her pretty busy, especially as the Alpha timeline threatened to destabilize, but it had recently stabilized, finding a new Champion of Balance.

And oh, is Ellie excited to meet him.

She takes out her compass. Enchanted, just as the Infini-Map had been; to always lead her to where she needed to go, a gift from Clockwork after she had gotten lost on a few of her first missions. Holding it up to the green atmosphere of the Ghost Zone, she channels the Infinite Realms’ power into her words as she says, “Take me to the new champion!”

The needle of the compass spins rapidly, as it aways does, charging with the ambient ectoplasm in the air. She should make sure to keep it charged, so she can find a natural portal that would take her home when she’s done. She isn’t sure how much ambient ectoplasm is in the Alpha timeline’s air anymore, but she puts those thoughts aside as the needle of the compass fixes itself in the direction she needs to go.

She’s not like her brother, Equinox. She doesn’t like to think about her actions too much; she follows the whims of her artificially beating heart and core. She wants to meet the new Champion of Balance, and so, she will.

Midoriya Izuku, I’m coming for you!

Chapter Text

The Sports Festival.

By far, U.A.’s largest event. Even their other events, such as the Entrance Exam or the Culture Festival, pale in comparison to the Sport’s Festival. The Sports Festival is the thing to see—Japan’s modern Olympics. Every single student across every single grade will get a chance to show not just all of Japan, but the whole world what they are made of. An opportunity for students to show off their Quirks, to begin the endless process of proving themselves to be worthy of the title of hero, to catch the attention of professionals and agencies who might scout them one day.

It's the event, for both the students, and all the audience members.

Though, Izuku can’t help but feel a little jealousy take over as he walks through the crowds at the Sports Festival. Most of the students are crowded away in their respective arenas, the crowds being made of a mixture of family and friends, and pro-heroes, of course. The opening ceremony for the first-year class, the one that Izuku specifically has a ticket to, starts in about thirty minutes, so he has time to wander around the crowds.

Due to the way the Sports Festival is being held, most of the attendees are professional heroes, or family members of the students. There are a few kids closer to Izuku’s age, too; mostly younger siblings or friends of students participating, but it’s not like Izuku can just walk up to anybody and say, hey, how are you, I’m Izuku. No, that’s awkward, and Izuku is notoriously bad at making friends.

Being around the heroes is more nerve-wracking than he thought it’d be. After meeting up with Hitoshi’s dad (since they both got the tickets from Hitoshi, their seats are next to each other, and it is a little awkward to be sitting next to his best friend’s dad but whatever Izuku is at the Sports Festival so who cares), Izuku wanted to take a second to look around. Typical Sports Festivals would have U.A. merch, featuring some of the more marketable upperclassmen who might have already made early brand deals, and many, many different food tents, but due to their limitations this year, there’s no merch.

There’s still a lot of food tents, and Izuku passes by a few that sell non-Japanese food, like hotdogs and popcorn.

Popcorn! The last time Izuku had popcorn was—well, a long time ago. He digs into his pockets, searching for his wallet, when someone bumps into him from behind.

“Oh, excuse me, young man.”

“O-Oh, no, you’re fine!” Izuku immediately stutters over his words, turning to apologize to the person who hit ran into him instead (knowing himself, he’s probably standing right in the middle of the flow of the crowd), but his voice gives out when he sees the man behind him.

Be realistic.

--You can’t be a hero--

Izuku isn’t quite sure that All Might recognizes him—though, Izuku could barely recognize All Might in this shrunken form of his.

He’d almost forgotten about learning the greatest hero’s most ashamed secret, his own identity. An injury from many years before Izuku was even a thought in his mother’s mind, crippling the number one hero further and further. It wasn’t the main detail that stuck in Izuku’s mind after meeting him, though. It was the other things that All Might said—

You can’t be a hero.

Wonder if that injury hit his brain somehow, a snarky part of Izuku thinks, though, mostly he stays quiet, because there’s something different about All Might now, in his shrunken form.

The shrunken man nervously clears his throat, bringing Izuku’s attention back from the depths of his mind. “A-Are you alright?”

Izuku is a little surprised by the strange, deadpan respond he hears come out of his own mouth. “I’m fine. Sorry. Have a good day.” And he turns to look back at the popcorn, trying to put the thoughts out of his head, but his core is buzzing with too many emotions. Anger, resentment, sadness, pain, triumph, you can’t be a hero you can’t be a hero—

All Might awkwardly shuffles away, and Izuku took a moment to take a deep breath. He’d told Hitoshi nearly everything about the day he had died, but some things are still staying a secret. Of course, All Might’s words did not drive him to his Accident—emphasis on the accident part—but they’re a part of what drives him. Plus, if Izuku admitted to Hitoshi that All Might is not as good of a hero as he actually is (see: leaving Izuku on his own after being attacked by a villain and then shortly leaving him on a rooftop)—he doesn’t want to ruin All Might’s reputation, as much as he’d like to knock the man down a peg.

After staring at the popcorn sign for a few minutes, he finally feels the buzzing in his chest easing. The poor minimum wage employee of the popcorn stand is staring at Izuku like he’d just crawled out of his grave, and now Izuku feels even worse, so he orders a small bag of plain, non-buttery popcorn and heads back to the bleachers by Hitoshi’s dad.

✨👻✨

“CAN I GET A HEYYYY?! IT’S TIME FOR THE FIRST-YEAR EVENTS TO BEGIN!”

✨👻✨

Hitoshi isn’t quite sure what to expect with the first event. Of course, he’d watched Sports Festivals before—and Izuku made sure they went over the highlights of the last few years to “study” before today—but they were always different and varied. Last year, the first-years had to deal with an obstacle course, followed by a cavalry battle; the year before, it was a triathlon followed by a game of cricket. The events would follow similar structures, some sort of large, race-like game followed by a team game to weed out the top 16 before the tournament matches.

There was a pattern, simply put. And with Hitoshi’s best guess, it would be the same this year, too. Though, it would be just his rotten luck if things suddenly changed.

Iida all runs through the door to alert everybody that they’ve been called out to the opening ceremony.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I’m so nervous!” Uraraka squeals next to him as Iida attempts to organize everybody into a single line. He takes his elected job of class vice president rather well; Yayorozu looks exasperated at his attempts, but she doesn’t do much to stop him. “How are you keeping so cool, Shinsou?”

“I’m not cool.” Hitoshi deadpans. Because the truth is, he isn’t—Hitoshi is absolutely dying inside. “I’m freaking out, too.”

“Wow, Shinsou-kun.” Tsuyu comments from in front of him (her efforts to get him to call her by her first name finally won over Hitoshi’s stubbornness to not). At least a few people are trying to organize together following Iida’s orders, even if it isn’t a perfect single file line. “You’re hiding it really well.”

Hitoshi doesn’t feel like he’s hiding it really well, and all he can offer to her is a shrug in return as they step out into the middle of the arena.

“The first ones out on the field are none other than Class 1-A! These students may not look like much, but they already have the experience of handling low-rate villains.”

It’s not as packed as he would have expected. It looks like most seats are filled, and he might be able to spot Izuku’s nest of green hair somewhere in the crowds if he looks close enough. But the seats aren’t all completely filled, with rows at the top completely empty, and a few sections at the front of the stadium sectioned off (probably for the students who lose).

“Don’t let it fool ya—Class 1-B isn’t one to scoff at either! All these students fought tooth and nail to get into U.A. to begin with, after all!”

The following announcements for the other classes fade into background noise as Hitoshi takes a nervous glance around.

A small stage has been set up in the center of the arena, and Midnight stands in the center of it, holding a microphone. Two large stereos sit on both ends of it, and she smiles as not only Class 1-A emerges from the sides, but so do the other first year classes. Both hero classes, all three general education classes, and three support classes converge in the middle together.

The business class students are notably absent, but Hitoshi figures they have better things to do, like mooching around with heroes in the stands, than participate in an active event.

“There you have it, folks! All first-year classes are accounted for! And now, our umpire Midnight will introduce the top student for the opening statement!”

Top student? Hitoshi narrows his eyes. Who would the top student be? Obviously not him, because Hitoshi isn’t top anything. He barely made it into Class 1-A as it was; he’s in the middle of the class grades wise, and he isn’t spectacular. Iida, maybe, or Yayorozu? Or maybe even Todoroki, though the son of the number two hero hasn’t really talked much—

“Alright, kids!” Midnight’s voice could carry on its own, no speakers necessary, but Hitoshi wasn’t expecting how loud it would be. “Representing the first-year students is the top score on the entrance exam this year—Bakugou Katsuki!”

Oh. Oh, oh no. Hitoshi doesn’t like the sound of it. He hears a few of his fellow Class 1-A students gasp, as Bakugou steps forward and up onto the stage, slouching the whole way.

This isn’t going to be good.

Midnight holds the mic out to him, and after a brief second of hesitation, Bakugou takes it. He looks out into the crowd, and for a moment, it seems—maybe he’ll actually say something nice?

“I’m going to beat you all.” He says.

Gasps echo out through the rest of the classes, and a few yell out. Hitoshi doesn’t know why he actually had hope for something nice coming out of Bakugou’s mouth.

“Hey, what the heck!?”

“Stop messing around!”

“Why so rude, dude?”

“You sludge bastard!”

“I knew Class 1-A was full of themselves!”

Ah, so Hitoshi wasn’t just imagining things, either; the other classes were all looking at them funny. He’d gotten used to the sensation because of his Quirk, but it made more sense that the ire was directed at everybody in his class. With the glorious introduction they received from Present Mic when they entered to Bakugou’s stupid-ass speech, Hitoshi knows that he’s going to be in for a fun time.

He doesn’t even take a second to say anything else. Bakugou drops the mic on the ground, resulting in instant feedback, and jumps off the side of the stage as Midnight quickly grabs the mic. It’s an effective heel turn, and Hitoshi kinda admires Bakugou for having the guts to even do it, but the way it’s painting a target on the back of every single member of Class 1-A isn’t fun.

“Well! What great…. Words!” Midnight recovers it quickly, at least. “With that out of the way, let’s get started with the first event! This what some may call the qualifying round—only the first eighty of you will be getting through!”

Only the first eighty? There had to be way more students than that around them. Hitoshi couldn’t count them all, of course, but if each class had twenty students, it could be almost two-hundred students. To cull that many that quickly? It makes him a little more nervous, especially given his lack of a particularly strong Quirk.

You have a great Quirk, Hitoshi! Izuku’s voice echoes in his head. Hitoshi glances up to the crowds, trying to spot the nest of green hair, among them. You can do this! I believe in you!

Well, having one of the best vigilantes out there rooting for him does boost his spirits a bit, pun not intended.

“Now! Here is the fateful first game!” A holographic screen pops up behind Midnight. Kanji blurs for a second, before it lands on the first event.

LABYRINTH.

…Labyrinth?

“Ah! The labyrinth! Or, more simply put, a maze!”

A maze. The first round of the Sports Festival is going to be a maze?

There’s more to this, I know it. How else are they going to literally cull more than half the students standing?

“This game is inspired by the Greek myth of legend, except, there’s a twist! Instead of starting at the outside of the maze, you all will be starting at the center and finding your way out!”

As Midnight finishes her sentence, the ground begins to rumble a bit. Hitoshi feels something in his chest sink. It’s under us. The maze is under us. And sure enough, only a few seconds later, large maze walls rise from the ground beneath them, at least ten to fifteen feet tall. Smooth stone as well, making it harder to climb.

“As for the specific rules, anything goes! Do whatever you can to get out of the maze! Oh, and just a fair warning—watch out for the bulls!” The ground rumbles again, the distant sound of machinery whirring in the distance.

“A labyrinth? This is so scary!”

“They didn’t bring in actual bulls, did they?”

“I don’t think they would. I’m sure it’s just robots again.”

Robots. Hitoshi sighs. Here we go again.

Chapter Text

“THE LABYRINTH IS DESIGNED BY NONE OTHER THAN OUT AMAZING PRINCIPAL HIMSELF, NEDZU! WITH A NETTING OVER THE TOP TO PREVENT ANY STUDENTS FROM FLINGING THEMSELVES OUT OF THERE AND REINFORCED WALLS TO PREVENT COMPLETE DESTRUCTION, IT SEEMS LIKE THE ONLY WAY FOR OUR BRAVE STUDENTS TO GET OUT OF THERE IS THROUGH IT!”

“Do you even need me here?”

“WHY YES, MY BELOVED COHOST, YOUR PRESENCE IS NECESSARY. ANYWAY, WHERE WAS I? OH, YES! TALKING ABOUT THE FIRST YEAR STUDENT QUALIFYING ROUND! WITH MIDNIGHT OUT OF THERE, THE QUESTION IS—WHICH STUDENT IS GOING TO GO FIRST?”

✨👻✨

Katsuki doesn’t have a lot to regret in his life. He doesn’t live his life by the things he regrets not doing. He lives it filled with anger, of the mistakes he made in the past, of the anger that builds so hot in his chest sometimes that it has to explode out of him.

But maybe the first thing he’ll ever come to regret is not moving first when the horn went off.

He wasn’t the only student who hesitated. A large maze had just formed around them, after all, with two different entrances to the maze surrounding them. He could probably blow his way through the walls to the other side—but if it was indeed designed by their rat of a principal, there’s no way in hell these walls aren’t fortified against that sort of damage. That means that the only way he’s going to get through is by blowing through his competition. Literally.

But that IcyHot prick is faster with his plan and doesn’t hesitate to start running off to the left exit, the ground freezing underneath him to slow the other students down. That bastard.

“LOOKS LIKE TODOROKI SHOUTO HAS TAKEN OFF FIRST! THE SON OF THE PRO HERO ENDEAVOR AND ONE OF THE FOUR RECCOMENDATION STUDENTS ADMITTED EVERY YEAR, TODOROKI’S QUIRK HALF-HOT, HALF-COLD ALLOWS HIM TO GENERATE ICE FROM HIS RIGHT SIDE AND FIRE FROM HIS LEFT SIDE! FREEZING THE GROUND PREVENTS OTHER STUDENTS FROM FOLLOWING HIM—BUT WHAT IF THAT WAY ENDS IN JUST A DEAD-END?!”

“Hey! What the hell, man?!” One of the nobodies around him yells out to IcyHot as he freezes the ground, but there’s no response. IcyHot is focused, and Katsuki should be, too. He lets his palms warm up before firing off explosions to send him flying off to the right entrance, which leads to a long corridor that leads both left and right.

The distant grating of machinery to his right turns Katsuki to the left, and deep into the maze. No more hesitation. He’s going to show them—he’s going to show them all—he’s the strongest and the best that U.A. has to offer.

Mazes aren’t the hardest thing to get through. As soon as Bakugou gets to the end of the corridor, the ground starts to fall away beneath him, giving way to a pitfall trap.

“LOOKS LIKE THE EXPLOSIVE BAKUGOU KATSUKI OF 1-A HAS FOUND ONE OF THE MANHY SECRETS OF THE LABYRINTH! A TRAP! OF COURSE, THIS CAN’T JUST BE A NORMAL MAZE WITH NO SECRET TRICKS, NEDZU MADE IT, AFTER ALL!”

“Do you ever not yell at one of these?”

“THE PEOPLE NEED TO HEAR ME, ERASERHEAD!”

“I would appreciate being able to retain my hearing after this.”

Of course. Not only fucking robots, but traps, too? That rat is insane! He snarls, backing up before setting off a larger explosion to bridge the gap between himself and the other side. A few other students had already caught up to him, including the frog girl from his class.

“WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! ASUI TSUYU FROM CLASS 1-A IS SCALING THE WALLS! HOW IS SHE DOING THAT? WELL, WITH HER QUIRK, OF COURSE! ASUI’S QUIRK FROG ALLOWS HER TO, SIMPLY PUT, DO ANYTHING A FROG DOES! IT SEEMS THAT THE SMOOTH TEXTURE IS NO MATCH FOR HER STICKY QUIRK!”

Oh, fuck, Katsuki is going to have to listen to Present Mic’s commentary the whole round, isn’t he?

✨👻✨

“Hey, you!”

“Huh—” The effect is almost instant—the general education student’s face falls, their eyes glossing over as Hitoshi’s Quirk took control.

“Tell me your name and Quirk.” Keeping commands simple helps Hitoshi maintain more control over his—well, his victims, but he doesn’t like to think about them as victims. Izuku suggested he calls the people he brainwashes his “friends”, but that feels like it’s stepping into actual villain territory there.

He already has another under control-- Tsuburaba Kosei from class 1-B, Quirk; Solid Air.

Her voice drops to a monotone as she responds. “Togeike Chikuchi. My Quirk is called Forecast, and it lets me predict the weather for the next day. There will be light rain tomorrow.”

Forecast. Well. At least Hitoshi knows that he’ll need to bring his rain jacket to school tomorrow. He sighs. The Quirk isn’t ideal, but what does Izuku always say? Think outside the box. Tsuburaba’s Quirk allows him to solidify air, so he can make platforms over the ice that Todoroki made, meaning that Hitoshi can get through the right side.

He can’t keep more than two people brainwashed at once now, though. “Tsuburaba, make a solid air platform over the ice.” He turns back to Togeike. “Forget this happened.” Hitoshi adds, and releases the control. Togeike blinks, unaware of what just happened.

He’d never tried a memory wipe, but Togeike doesn’t look like she all-out hates him, or is really aware of her surroundings. By the time she’ll collect herself, Hitoshi will be long gone. Tsuburaba’s solid platforms allow the two of them to jump over the frozen grown Todoroki made, and he makes it to the other side quickly.

There’s a lot of ice over the ground in the distance. As he and Tsuburaba approach, it looks like a pitfall trap had been frozen over. The ice is too thick to see the bottom, but Hitoshi doesn’t want to take a chance. He tells Tsuburaba to make more solid air platforms, and the two of them make their way through the maze.

Present Mic’s voice blaring through the speakers nearly sends Hitoshi panicking.

“IT LOOKS LIKE A FEW UNLIKELY ALLIANCES HAVE BEEN MADE! ON ONE SIDE, WE HAVE SHINSOU HITOSHI FROM 1-A AND TSUBURABA KOSEI FROM 1-B MAKING THEIR WAY OVER TODOROKI’S ICE TOGETHER. ON THE OTHER END, WE HAVE 1-A’S URARAKA OCHAKO AND AOYAMA YUGA FIGHTING A ROBOT BULL, AND—OH, NO, AOYAMA IS PINNED, BUT URARAKA ISN’T GOING TO LEAVE HIM BEHIND!”

Hitoshi is sure that Present Mic’s interruptions are meant to be distracting, as Tsuburaba sets off another trap accidentally. Hitoshi doesn’t hesitate and pulls him out of the way as arrows begin to shoot out of small holes in the walls. After they stop, Hitoshi picks one up off the ground. The arrowhead is rounded, meaning it wouldn’t pierce the skin, but knowing how crazy they are at U.A., he wouldn’t be surprised.

A few more students start making their way after Hitoshi and his Class 1-B jockey, so he pushes Tsuburaba forward and makes sure to toss the arrow back onto the pressure plate to activate the trap behind him again.

Hitoshi knows the odds aren’t in his favor for winning. He has a mental Quirk; he can only brainwash people. He’s not super strong, he can’t control fire, he can’t make things float. All he can do is make people do the heavy work for him. While his fighting skills and general strength have increased, from both training with Aizawa-sensei and in general heroics classes, he’s still behind his peers. He’s not strong enough.

Yet.

He still has to try. He still has to try and prove it. Mostly for himself—prove that even he can make it, a nobody with a mental Quirk. But maybe, there’s a small part of him that wants to prove it to anybody who has stood against him and said, no, you can’t be a hero with a Quirk like that, and say, yes, I can, look at me, yes I can.

He felt the control slipping through his fingers as he got lost in thought jogging down the corridors next to Tsuburaba, but he quickly fixed that, grabbing the mental reigns and pulling again.

✨👻✨

“IT LOOKS LIKE A FEW STUDENTS FROM CLASS 1-H ARE GETTING TURNED AROUND THERE! DEAD END AFTER DEAD END—WILL THE MADNESS OF THE LABYRINTH EVER END?”

“You do realize we’re not on live TV right now. You can talk like a normal person. You don’t need to be dramatic.”

“AH, BUT AU CONTRAIRE MY FRIEND, WHY BE BORING WHEN YOU CAN BE EXTRAORDINARY?”

“Right. I completely forgot who I was talking to here.”

“OH! WHAT IS THIS! IT LOOKS LIKE BULLS HAVE BEEN RELEASED FROM THE CENTER. RUN, STUDENTS, RUN!”

✨👻✨

Todoroki Shouto is many things.

He’s Endeavor’s son. He’s the heir to the fame and fortune of being the number-two hero’s son. He’s powerful. His Quirk was genetically designed to be that way. He’s rich. He’s a recommendation student.

He’s also very, very tired.

The chill that seeps into his bones is back. It never seems to leave him; he’s always a little cold, shivering in the AC of classrooms and even in the sunlight outside. He was tempted to wear the long-sleeve gym uniform today, but that would just show a weakness.

And of all the things Todoroki shouldn’t be, it’s that. Weak. He can’t show weakness. Weakness means pain. Weakness means hiding bruises and cuts and more training, more training, more training.

His body almost instinctively wants to warm up. There’s a feeling of warm embers in his chest, but he buries it. Smothers it. Allows the cold to take over and grow, because fire is bad. Just like his father. Fire is bad and ice is good, and he can’t use his fire, no matter how badly his body wants to use it, because Todoroki Shouto is many things but another thing he is not is his father.

The last person he wants to be is his father.

Shouto makes another turn around a corner, ignoring the chill in his fingertips as he swings an arm out, summoning the ice from within. It hits the bull robot dead-on, a large icicle spearing straight through the beast’s heart. Or where the heart would be, if it were a living thing like Shouto.

“EVEN THOUGH THEY BOTH WENT IN SEPARATE DIRECTIONS, IT LOOKS LIKE BOTH TODOROKI SHOUTO AND BAKUGOU KATSUKI ARE TIED IN DISTANCES TO THE EXIT! THE QUESTION WILL BE—WHO WILL GET THERE FIRST?”

Right. Shouto has to keep going. He has a lot to prove today, mostly to his father. The chill seeps into his bones again, a prickling sensation in the tips of his fingers. Neither are a good sign. He is not immune to frostbite or to burns like his siblings.

The Todoroki family genetics are odd. Fire and ice don’t tend to mix, but Shouto’s father was determined to get it right. His oldest brother, Touya, who he only remembers in small, faint memories, was not immune to the hot fire his own body produced, unusual in cases of fire Quirks. His brother Natsuo has no Quirk, though they claim that it’s a very weak version of their mother’s for the sake of publicity; the fire and ice cancelled out in his body, leaving him with nothing but an inclination to cooler weather. Fuyumi, his older sister, doesn’t burn, nor can she get frostbite. But she cannot produce any of her own ice or fire.

Shouto is the perfect mixture. Half of his body runs hot like wildfire, the other is cold as ice. They’re balanced, a perfect heir for his father. But Shouto does not want to be his father’s heir.

He doesn’t even know if he wants to be a hero.

Todoroki Shouto is many things— but he is not in control of his own destiny. He does not have a choice in the matter. With a strong, powerful Quirk like his, he is meant to be a hero, whether or not he wants to be one.

He picks up the pace and breaks out into a faster jog. With more movement, his body can warm up naturally, not with his Quirk, and it fights off the pinpricks in his fingers and the chill in his bones. It doesn’t stave it off completely, but it gives him more chances to attack with his ice. The light around him seems to be getting brighter, but of course, there’s more obstacles in his way.

“IT LOOKS LIKE TODOROKI SHOUTO HAS FOUND THE LAST BOSS OF THE LABYRINTH, THE MINOTAUR!”

U.A.’s style of robots is pretty common. Boxy and rectangular, with exposed wires and loose limbs to destroy easier. One of their first hero classes, after the battle trials, was team-up attack drills against robot dummies. He’d been paired with that purple boy—Mineta, eugh—who didn’t do anything except stare at the girls the entire time, which was annoying.

The robots in the maze had been a little different. Quadrupedal, with a vaguely bovine-esque structure. The heads were still loose like the boxy ones and there wasn’t much to distinguish them from each other color-wise, but they had the shape of a bull, sharp horns and all. They were easy to take down. Child’s play, compared to the stuff Endeavor would throw at Shouto.

But this one is unique. It’s twice Shouto’s height, nearly to the limit of the walls above them. The bottom half of the robot is detailed and eerily human-like, almost similar to the construction of that monster they had seen during the USJ attack. The head shines silver instead of their usual army green, and is built like the bulls before, but very clearly higher quality.

He grunts and ignores the growing threat of the ice in his bones and summons the largest glacier that he can. It’s not as impressive as he would have liked it, and the walls around him are a little limiting, but the Minotaur is surrounded by ice completely before it can attack. The head sticks out oddly, before the ice slowly melts through the cracks and it pops off, rolling down the incline and past Shouto’s feet.

Child’s play.

“AND WE HAVE OUR FIRST ESCAPEE! TODOROKI SHOUTO FROM CLASS 1-A!”

✨👻✨

TODOROKI SHOUTO

CLASS: 1-A

QUIRK: HALF-HOT, HALF-COLD

According to Present Mic, Todoroki’s Quirk allows him to produce ice from the right side of his body and fire from the left side of his body. That must have taken pretty precise genetics to get it to work that perfectly, and it’s very strong as well, as Todoroki is able to summon large glaciers of ice without breaking a sweat!

Though he hasn’t used his fire at all. Maybe it isn’t as strong? Maybe it just acts as a thermoregulator, but Todoroki was looking cold on those screens. Maybe it’s a mental thing—is he immune to frostbite? He has a large burn scar covering his face, so he isn’t immune to that. And how did that happen, anywayyyyy--

“You, uh, sure like to take notes down, Midoriya.”

“A-Ah!” Izuku yelps a bit, and the last word he had been scribbling awkwardly fizzled out as he jumps. Hitoshi’s dad is looking over his shoulder. “U-Um, yeah, I—I really do enjoy learning about Quirks, Shinsou-san.”

“It’s good to have an inquisitive mind, Midoriya.” Hitoshi’s dad says. “You know, that’s how I got started in journalism. I had so many questions, and I wanted the answers to all of them. Sometimes I’d get doors slammed in my faces, but other times, I’d get them opened and a warm welcome in.”

“T-That’s, um, cool.”

“Hey, if you ever are curious about being a journalist, too, let me know! I can give you a few pointers!”

“A-Ah, thank you, Shinsou-san, but I’m just interested in Quirks, that’s all.” It’s still so awkward talking to Hitoshi’s dad like this. Like, he’s the guy who gave me the name Phantom, but he’s none the wiser! This is so awkward! Izuku makes an awkward point towards the arena.  “Oh, look, more people are getting out of the maze! Maybe Hitoshi’s among them!”

✨👻✨

“AND IT LOOKS LIKE WE HAVE OUR FIRST EIGHTY OUT OF THE LABYRINTH! WHAT DO YOU THINK, ERASERHEAD?”

“I think I need to look for some migraine pills when I get out of here.”

“CHILL OUT, SOURPUSS! LET’S LOOK AT THE RESULTS! TODOROKI SHOUTO, FIRST PLACE. BAKUGOU KATSUKI, SECOND PLACE. URARAKA OCHAKO, THIRD PLACE—AND, OH, WE DON’T NEED TO GO THROUGH ALL EIGHTY NOW, do we?”

“We do not need to.”

“…ALL OF OUR HERO STUDENTS HAVE MADE IT THROUGH IN BOTH CLASSES, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! THE REST ARE THE GENERAL EDUCATION STUDENTS AND THREE SUPPROT CLASS STUDENTS! THE REST OF YOU STILL STUCK IN THE MAZE, HANG TIGHT, AND WE’LL BE ON THE WAY TO GET YOU SOON! THOSE OF YOU OUT OF THE MAZE, GO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOUR BREAK BEFORE THE NEXT ROUND!”

Chapter Text

CAN I GEY A HEYYY! IT’S TIME FOR THE SECOND EVENT!”

“Oh, god, we’re not even halfway through?”

“C’MON, ERASER, WORK WITH ME HERE!”

“I’m being forced to be here.”

“AAALRIGHT ANYWAY, THE SECOND EVENT IS THE TEAM GAME! I HOPE ALL THE FIRST YEARS WHO MADE IT THROUGH THE QUALIFYING ROUND ARE OUT ON THE FIELD NOW OR YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BE GOING MUCH FURTHER!!! ERASER, WHAT IS THE SECOND EVENT GOING TO BE?”

“…No.”

“YOU DON’T WANNA EXPLAIN IT? OKAY! I WILL THEN! MORE TIME FOR THE LISTENERS TO HEAR MY DULCET TONES! THE SECOND EVENT IS… A CHARIOT BATTLE!”

✨👻✨

Chariot battle?

Well, Uraraka Ochako thinks, looking around at the field—which no longer contained that terrifying labyrinth, euch, she can still feel all those robot-spiders crawling over her skin—that makes sense. Hand-drawn carts with large wheels are scattered across the sidelines.

She takes a deep breath. She can do this. She was third place in the Labyrinth run, after all. She can do this. She can win the Sports Festival. Just thinking about it sends even more jitters through her body, which she shakes her hands to try and get rid of them.

“WHAT IS A CHARIOT BATTLE, YOU MAY BE ASKING? WELL, WE HAVE MIDNIGHT BACK ON THE FIELD, READY TO EXPLAIN!”

Midnight steps back onto the field, holding a mic in one hand. “The Chariot Battle will be our team game! You can organize yourself into teams of at least three or four! These chariots you see all around us are designed to be drawn by two students, with one student as the driver! Your goal? Knock as many students out of the ring as you possibly can!”

Knock them out of the ring? Ochako nods to herself. That’s easy. That’s something she can do. She could do it pretty easily herself, though—but it’s a team fight! She should look for someone to be on her team!

Oh! I know! She listens intently to the rest of Midnight’s explanation as she scans the crowd. I know he got through, where is he?

“Just like with the Labyrinth, anything goes, just avoid any serious harm, maiming, or injury. You will get a red card for that, and I will have paperwork to fill out. Please, do not make me fill out paperwork today.”

Ah! There he is!

A counter appears on the screen floating behind Midnight. “You have fifteen minutes to make your teams. Now, go!”

Ochako is off instantly, running to the side of one of her friends. Well, she considers Shinsou a friend. He’s kinda awkward in a charming way, which is great because Ochako feels a little awkward sometimes, too, and they both helped each other out at their entrance exams, and they hang out at the lunch table all the time, so they’ve gotta be friends.

It’s a classic extrovert adopting introvert situation. “Shinsou! Shinsou, be on my team!”

“H-Huh?!”

“C’mon! We’ll make a great team!” Ochako says. The plan is already forming in her mind. “I can make the chariot a little lighter so it’s easier to pull, and you can mind-control people to go out of the circle on their own!”

“Ah, I guess so.” Shinsou says. “We’ll need at least one more person, though.”

True. They can’t be a team with just two people. Ochako scans the crowd again, looking for any people who are by themselves or with one other person. Iida is with a group already—darn, he would’ve been perfect to grab! —Tsu is with Iida’s team, and—Oh!

She doesn’t need to even walk up to the person she spots, the person walks right up to her. She’s not familiar to Ochako—probably general studies, or maybe the support class, with how much gear she has?

“Third place, right? Please, please let me and my babies join your team!”

Ochako nearly yelps. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Shinsou pale a bit. “B-Babies?!”

“Yes! My babies!” The girl holds up the one piece of gear she’s holding, some sort of strange box. “Hatsume Mei from the Support Course, at your service!”

Oh. Oh. Ochako lets out a sigh of relief—the babies are just what she’s calling her inventions, then. Okay. That makes a lot more sense, actually. “I’m Uraraka Ochako, and this is Shinsou Hitoshi. It’s nice to meet you, Hatsume!”

“You too, third place!” Hatsume replies, with a grin. “Not the placement I was looking to team with, but you’ll have to do!”

Placement? Huh? Ochako feels like she needs to take a step back.  

“Mhm! And you, purple-hair boy! You seem like someone who’s going to make it to the finals, too!” She continues, oblivious to the people around her. “Yes, yes! This will be perfect! With the two of you on my team, that’ll get plenty of eyes on my babies!”

“Are you sure about this, Uraraka?” Shinsou mumbles under his breath.

“It’s not right to judge a book by its cover.” Ochako replies with a nervous laugh. Though, maybe sometimes it’s right to judge a book but she’s trying to be nice and non-judgmental, so she lets Hatsume continue on for the next few minutes, talking about her different “babies” that she brought with her, including items like grappling hooks, rocket launchers, jetpacks, and surprises she promises won’t explode.

As Hatsume keeps prattling on, she feels a tap on her shoulder. Ochako turns and finds Koda standing right behind her, shy as ever. She hadn’t even heard him walk up behind them. “Oh! Koda! I didn’t see you there?”

It’s hard to communicate with Koda sometimes; most of Class 1-A has been learning JSL to understand what he says, but it’s still off to a bit of a rough start for Ochako. Even though he doesn’t speak much, he still manages to convey and communicate his thoughts and ideas.

He nervously taps his fingers together, looking at Ochako.

“Do you wanna team with us, Koda?”

He nods, nervously.

“Alright! That gives us four people then!” Ochako smiles and drags him a bit closer to the group. It’s nice, too; even though he doesn’t use it, Koda has an impressive strength she has only witnessed the time a squirrel got stuck under a large rock during training, and Koda picked it up, no problem, and the squirrel was able to get back into the trees. She was a little worried that she’d have to try and pull someone on the kart, but with Koda’s strength alone, that’s no problem.

Hmm… Ochako looks at her mismatched team; of Class 1-A students and a Support Class girl with her many gadgets. They were running out of time to strategize, but thoughts start swirling in her mind. Ideas, of ways Zero Gravity and Anivoice and Brainwashing and—well, whatever Hatsume’s Quirk is—how all their Quirks can work together to make a solid plan.

It’ll be a little messy, but Uraraka Ochako is the daughter of construction workers.

She’s used to getting messy.

✨👻✨

Just as the Chariot Battles are about to start, Izuku gets distracted by a hiccup. Normally, it wouldn’t be anything to note, but since his death, hiccups haven’t been a thing, unless it means something is nearby. And he covers his mouth, barely muffling the cloud that threatens to claw its way out.

A ghost? Here? Izuku glances around wildly, though it seems like nothing is out of the ordinary. Most of the students below them have already started the Chariot Battles; grabbing ahold of the nearest chariot and starting around the course. It’s starting out as a simple race; a few teams got the idea to drive circular around the field to cover their bases, even at the higher risk of being thrown out of the ring, since it gives them more field to attack from. It’s anyone’s game at this point in Izuku’s mind, though he wouldn’t doubt it if Ka—Bakugou—or Endeavor’s son manage to get their teams to the tournament round.

But still; he hates to miss it, but the hiccup sends a shudder down his spine. He stands up, almost too quickly, accidentally knocking his notebook out of his lap. It’s not an important notebook (well, all his notebooks are important, but this one is specifically not for anything ghostly) so he almost doesn’t mind dropping it, but he still picks it up. “Ah, I need to go to the bathroom! I’ll be right back!”

“Oh, okay, uh, Midoriya—” Hitoshi’s dad’s voice faces off as Izuku nearly high-tails it out of the seating and into the hallways of the stadium behind them.

With the event going on, the back hallways are quiet, save for a few people stepping into the A.C. inside or other people also taking quick bathroom breaks before it truly starts kicking off. Plenty of TV screens are available for those on the inside to see the highlights and hear Present Mic and Eraserhead’s commentary still.

“AND THERE GOES KAIBARA’S TEAM, KNOCKED OUT OF THE CIRCLE BY TODOROKI’S TEAM. THE FIRST ELIMINATION OF THE ROUND!”

Aw, man, he’s going to miss so much! But, Izuku also rationalizes, if there’s a ghost here, that’ll need to be dealt with.

“Listen up, greenie. Not all the ghosts you meet are gonna be as chill as me. You gotta be prepared for that moment.”

Izuku’s world can’t even handle him at a fraction of his power—he’s seen the way that the police officers he often flies by look at him, the way that Eraserhead’s tired eyes constantly keep a vigilant eye on him as he flies through the air—so what would happen if a full ghost were to attack somewhere?

He’s the only one who would have a fraction of a chance; and even then, Izuku’s never fought another ghost.

The few people who are out in the hallways don’t pay him any attention as he glances around for a bathroom sign, but he doesn’t even find it before seeing her.

She’s not exactly a ghost, but Izuku hiccups again, and muffles the cloud again with his hands, so she’s something. She’s floating off the ground, slightly, wearing a hero costume that isn’t familiar to him at all. Long black hair is pulled up into a tight bun, and her eyes stare into Izuku’s soul, a pure white. She’s not like Amorpho, who was solid unless they didn’t want to be. She was more of an… echo, maybe, of something or someone that once was?

But how?

Before Izuku can approach—which he also considers would be a little weird, to just walk up to empty air and talk to it like something is there—someone comes around the corner again. The echo looks at Izuku, before turning around and vanishing, and All Might’s shrunken form comes into view.

Huh? What?

Him again?

All Might notices him, again, though there’s a strange look in his eyes that he can’t quite place. He takes a few steps forward, and then another few steps, before asking, “Excuse me, young man. Can I ask you a question?”

Izuku’s mouth moves before his mind can. “You just did.”

“Ah. Well. You know what I mean.” All Might says. “You look familiar, but I can’t quite place you. Have we met before?”

You look familiar.

Have we met before?

Present Mic’s announcements break through the awkward silence. “AND WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! TEAM URARAKA IS SOARING ABOVE THEIR COMPETITION, LITERALLY! IS THIS EVEN ALLOWED?!”

“As long as they stay within the confines of the circle, it’s fine.”

“No. We haven’t.” Izuku lies through his teeth, before turning around. There’s something even stranger about All Might now, aside from his strange, bizarre circumstances, but Izuku doesn’t want to deal with it. If All Might is being haunted, well– that’s his problem. 

✨👻✨

“I have a plan.”

Hitoshi learns quickly when Uraraka formulates a plan, it’s going to be the most batshit insane thing he’ll ever hear. At first, it sounds pretty reasonable; she and Koda would be the “horses” for the chariot, probably the strongest two out of their team. Hitoshi and Hatsume would be the riders, and their aim was simple; defense and escape.

How would they accomplish this, with only one Quirk strong enough for combat purposes?

Well, luckily for them, Hatsume had dragged an entire box full of her “babies”—that is to say, her inventions—along with her, and they got a look at everything in it and outfitted themselves with the gear.

Hitoshi didn’t have much; Hatsume passed him a retractable bo staff. “It’s not fully operational yet, it’s supposed to have a taser at the end but Power Loader-sensei wouldn’t let me add it yet!”; but a staff is still a stick he can hit people with and it’s long-ranged.

Uraraka grabbed hover boots and metal cufflinks from the pile. The cufflinks were junk that Hatsume had accidentally brought along, but they slid on her wrists perfectly, mimicking the braces she had on her hero costume to help with the nausea pinpoints. Hover boots as well, which would give her the ability to float upwards without the use of her Quirk.

Koda hadn’t grabbed anything but had been shoved the jetpack. Luckily, Hatsume was all about accessibility and wearability for people with different body sizes, and the straps of the jetpack were made of a stretchy but firm nylon material that snug to the user’s body.

Hatsume had her goggles, of course, to help her Quirk—Zoom, she called it, and from what Hitoshi understood, it was as simple as the name suggested—but she also had a few other things shoved in the pockets of her gym pants.

“This is a smoke grenade, this is a glitter bomb, ooh, I forgot I packed these—”

“What are those?” Hitoshi asks, narrowing his eyes at the small orbs that looked different from the rest.

“Just explosive putty bombs I’ve been working on! Here, you can have them, you probably have better aim than me, but be careful, if they shake too much, they might explode on you. That won’t be fun!”

Ah. Okay. He carefully pockets the explosive putty bombs, feeling like one wrong move could end the whole game, all of a sudden.

With Hatsume and Hitoshi as the riders and Uraraka and Koda as the horses, the game was set to begin. There was no fanfare or excitement built, Midnight-sensei simply stood upon her podium with a flare gun, and shot it off into the air.

Everyone stayed still for a moment, and then it all burst into chaos.

Most teams gunned it immediately for the outer ring, all having a similar idea. The inner ring might have been safer, but there was less movement available. Iida’s team—with Kirishima and a boy Hitoshi didn’t recognize on it—sped out first, of course. Iida was built like a brick house and had the strength to pull the other two boys on it with ease, of course, and with his speed, it spun up a cloud of dust around the teams.

But other teams weren’t far behind. Bakugou’s team—surprised he was able to get enough people to be a group of four—barreled right behind Iida and Todoroki’s team wasn’t far behind.

“Stay out of their way, hopefully other teams will be too busy to try to knock the others out than go after us.” Uraraka said. Right, the plan; evade and defend. It’s a little hard to defend, but Hitoshi has the putty bombs and a retractable bo staff, and a few birds that Koda had called out to after their first round had begun to gather on the edges of the ring.

It isn’t long before the first team goes flying; a group of Class 1-B students goes flying after Todoroki shoots off a glacier at them, destroying their wheel. They land before they get knocked into the walls of the stadium, but still; it doesn’t look pleasant.

“AND THERE GOES KAIBARA’S TEAM, KNOCKED OUT OF THE CIRCLE BY TODOROKI’S TEAM. THE FIRST ELIMINATION OF THE ROUND!”

One team down, twenty to go. Somehow, they had ended up with an uneven number, and he’d seen Yayorozu summon a very similarly built Chariot for her own team. Midnight didn’t seem to mind, at least, and allowed it. But still, the odds weren’t ever in Hitoshi’s favor.

“To the right!” Hatsume orders, and Uraraka and Koda start pulling, barely dodging out of a swipe from 1-B students. One of the boys on the chariot charging at them is Tsuburaba, and Hitoshi can’t get a word out before a solid air of wall forms right to Koda’s right side, and they run into it. He crashes into Hatsume as they hit the wall.

Hitoshi doesn’t hesitate, and extends the bo staff, swinging indiscriminately. He’s been able to barely keep up with his classmates in physical training, but his body isn’t bulking up to a muscular state like his other male classmates. His is more lean and lithe; which sucks, given the fact that he needs to be strong to fight people, especially given that he fights Quirkless. Aizawa-sensei’s training before the Entrance Exam helped him a lot more than he was expecting, but he’s still lacking.

My Quirk isn’t physical. I can’t do anything.

The blond boy—Hitoshi’s heard him called Monoma before, after he’d all but declared war on Class 1-A a week prior—reaches out and grabs Hitoshi by his sleeve. “Let’s see what Class 1-A has on their side, shall we?”

Hitoshi doesn’t know what to expect, except he feels something very off in his chest, for just a second. A blip. And then it’s gone.

“A mental Quirk, ugh.” Monoma scoffs. “That’s pretty useless.”

He resists the urge to curse at the boy. Uraraka and Koda pick up again, running forward, away from Monoma and Tsuburaba’s team, but they stay right on their heels. The two class 1-B people on their team, more people Hitoshi doesn’t know the name or Quirk of, unfortunately, are pretty quick on their feet.

Think, think—Monoma knows that Hitoshi’s Quirk is a mental Quirk, but he doesn’t seem to know quite what it is. Or how to use it. A copying Quirk, probably. But does it give him the knowledge of how to use Hitoshi’s Quirk?

Given that Monoma doesn’t attempt any more goading remarks, Hitoshi takes it as a no. So he might have a chance to get him, but how?

Something Izuku told him a while ago pops into his head. “I think humor is definitely a weapon you could use to your advantage in a fight. Maybe even study some comedians, too?”

He hadn’t studied any comedians recently, and honestly, Hitoshi’s humor is not that funny. He’s deadpan and sarcastic and could probably only do dark humor as a stand-up comedian, but he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. And that is a horrible dad joke his own father had told him right as he hopped out of the car when they got to campus.

“W-What did the pirate get on his report card?”

“What.” Monoma blanks, but it’s enough of a response for Hitoshi to grab a hold of him, and he does. It’s obvious Monoma is the brains of the situation, so Hitoshi goes for a simple answer.

“Lead your team off the ring.”

“OH, WHAT’S THIS? MONOMA NEITO FROM 1-B, FIGHTING WITH HIS OWN TEAM MATES? AND OH, NO, THEY’RE OUT OF THE RING!”

“Nice work, purple hair!” Hatsume grins widely. Hitoshi grins back.

They continue this small back-and-forth game for a bit. Of course, the teams start to dwindle, and most of them have at least one Class 1-A student on them, so Hitoshi’s plan of attack against other people won’t be as affective when they’ve probably been warned of his Quirk. This is why he needs to go underground, because, sheesh, too many people knowing about his Quirk will make it nearly impossible for him to fight villains. Still, with Hatsume’s inventions—namely, her glitter bombs—they’re able to keep most of the attention away from them, as Bakugou and Todoroki fight for first place.

We don’t need first place, Hitoshi thinks, we just need to not be last. That’s more than enough. The glory of first place would be nice, but they just need to survive to get there.

Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen… The numbers start going down, and as less chaos exists on the ring, the more they’re getting attention. A few teams center their focus on them, instead; it’s less worth it to try and get the chariots on the outside of the ring out when they’re so powerful and obviously going after each other, now.

Time for part two, I guess. Uraraka skids to a stop, motioning for Koda to do the same. “Ready, guys?”

Hatsume looks absolutely feral with her smile, and nods excitedly, nearly knocking off her goggles in the process. Hitoshi gulps, but nods as well, queasy with the sudden height they’ll get, but it’s a good way to get out of everybody’s way.

“Let’s do this, then!” Uraraka slaps the chariot with one hand, and the zero gravity already starts to take effect. Koda is pretty quick with his jetpack, at least, after Hatsume showed him dozens of times how to get it properly started, and Uraraka clicks her hover boots together like they’re ruby slippers, and their team shoots up into the sky.

“AND WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! TEAM URARAKA IS SOARING ABOVE THEIR COMPETITION, LITERALLY! IS THIS EVEN ALLOWED?!” Present Mic’s roaring voice booms through the stadium as attendees, some heroes, some families, cheer in racous applause.

“As long as they stay within the confines of the circle, it’s fine.” Aizawa-sensei says, voice cool and monotone as ever.

While they can’t stay up here forever—they’re now prime targets for being knocked away with one of Todoroki’s growing glaciers—they can at least cause some more damage. Hatsume pulls the tag out of one of her smoke grenades and pitches it down with the strength and energy a baseball player would be jealous of.

Oh! An idea pops in Hitoshi’s mind, and he carefully pulls out the putty bombs. They’re small, maybe a few inches in diameter, and look more like bouncy balls than anything too lethal, but by some miracle, they’d stayed perfectly safe in Hitoshi’s pockets. He starts chucking them down, one, two, three, and can’t help but revel in the sound of people getting stuck in the expanding putty below them.

“OH, AND THAT’S FOUR KNOCKOUTS IN THE RING! IF YOUR CHARIOT BREAKS, YOU CAN’T PARTICIPATE ANYMORE. SORRY ABOUT THAT, TEAMS!”

They land, a little haphazardly, a few minutes later, when Uraraka starts looking a little pale. Hitoshi is impressed she held out as long as she could. Koda whistles, and the small flock of birds forming around the stadium leap into action and start swooping at the remaining teams, knocking their horses off course. One knocks into another, and they go sprawling. He feels bad, knocking out his classmates, but to be fair, Mineta and Aoyama wouldn’t make it that far in the tournament, anyway, and Mineta was too distracted staring at Yayorozu’s cleavage to notice the chariot flying towards them.

Six, five… Five teams left. One more out, and then it’d be over. One more, one more.

“GET BACK HERE, YOU ICY-HOT BASTARD!”

“WHAT IS THIS? BAKUGOU KATSUKI HAS FINALLY HAD ENOUGH OF TODOROKI’S GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE, AND FLUNG HIMSELF OFF OF HIS CHARIOT. ERASER, IS THIS EVEN ALLOWED?”

Midnight’s voice cuts in. “As long as he doesn’t touch the ground, his team will stay in!”

It’s clever; Bakugou is using his explosions to propel himself and fly right at Todoroki, who is, by all counts, looking the most fatigued Hitoshi has ever seen. Frost is crawing up at his sides, and while he’s not the only rider—it looks like, for some reason, Hagakure, of all people, is Todoroki’s fellow rider, while Kaminari and Sato are his horses. It’s a strange, hodgepodge team, but it’s been working out for him by some miracle, so Hitoshi isn’t going to complain.

Right as he’s distracted, something flies by his side, and grabs his bo staff out of his hands. He turns, and sees Tsu on Iida’s team, her tongue whizzing back to her, wrapped around his staff. It’s not made of the sturdiest material, so he’s not surprised she snaps it easily with just her bare hands, but that leaves them open and vulnerable.

“Hatsume, quick, do you have anything else?”

“Hahhh, let me see…” She grabs ahold of the chariot with one hand, and starts digging in her pockets. “This is all I’ve got left.”

She hands him a rock.

A rock.

“Hatsume, this is a rock.”

“It was a very nice rock I found during the labyrinth. I was hoping to keep it, but you can have it.”

“What, am I supposed to do, with a rock.”

“I dunno, chuck it at someone?”

Well. That’s one thing. Hitoshi doesn’t think that it would work out, but he sees another team start to charge him from behind. Not Tsu and Iida’s team, but one of the last teams of fully Class 1-B kids. Without a second thought, Hitoshi chucks the rock at one of the horses.

He misses. The rock hits the ground not too far away.

Well, I tried. Dad, Izuku, I hope you’re proud of me for making it at least to the third round. Uraraka, Koda, I’m sorry about this.

But, before the team can get to them, one of the wheels gets stuck on the rock in just the right spot, and right as Uraraka and Koda move them out of the way, the last team goes stumbling with a broken wheel off the ring and into the grass around them.

What the fuck.

A blast goes off from Midnight-sensei’s flare again.

✨👻✨

“AND THERE WE HAVE IT FOLKS! THE FOUR TEAMS THAT WILL BE MAKING IT TO THE TOURNAMENT ROUND! TEAM TODOROKI, FEATURING HAGAKURE TORU, SATO AIKIDO, AND KAMINARI DENKI! TEAM BAKUGOU, FEATURING ASHIDO MINA, SERO HANATA, AND KENDO ITSUKA! TEAM URARAKA, FEATURING SHINSOU HITOSHI, KODA KOJI, AND HATSUME MEI FROM THE SUPPORT CLASS! AND FINALLY, TEAM IIDA, FEATURING ASUI TSUYU, KIRISHIMA EJIRO, AND RIN HIRYU! WHAT DO YOU THINK, ERASERHEAD?”

“Hmph.”

“WISE WORDS, MY ELOQUENT FRIEND. IT LOOKS LIKE CLASS 1-A HAS WHAT IT TAKES, WITH MORE THAN 80 PERCENT OF THE FINALISTS HAILING FROM THERE! BUT WE CAN’T LET OUTSELVES GET DISTRACTED BY THE EFFORTS OF THE OTHER CLASSES, AND THE FINAL ROUND WILL BE ANYONE’S GAME…”

Chapter Text

 “NOW, WE’RE GOING TO BREAK FOR A BRIEF INTERMISSION, EVERYBODY, TO ALLOW OUR DEAR STUDENTS A CHANCE TO EAT LUNCH! WE WILL BE BACK BY TWO FOR ROUND THREE, THE TOURNAMENT ROUND!”

✨👻✨

Finally!

Ellie stretches her legs as the plane finally makes a landing. She doesn’t normally fly in planes—after all, she can fly herself, so what’s the point?—but there’s a fun novelty to it.

Bad airplane food hasn’t changed since she was created, but the seats had finally started to become more comfortable in the last few visits to the Alpha timeline. Not to mention, it was definitely less work to hitch a ride on an airplane than to fly halfway across the globe, following her compass to the new Champion.

It's a rather uneventful plane ride. It lands just in the later hours of the morning, and Ellie is one of the few in the first class section. There are other businesspeople with their business-type dress, and one person with a mutant superpower that needs more space to keep their larger stony body and long tail. Oh, what are they called again—Quirks, right!

The living and their silly names for silly things. She’s not going to say she’d be any better at it, but still. Quirks are a fun silly name for superpowers that mutated from ectoplasmic radiation that swept across the globe after Danny—Equinox-- was coronated. Even when the monarchy was dissolved a century or so ago, the radiation still remained, and here they are.

She flashes her passport at customs when she arrives. It’s fake, given that Ellie is technically older than Quirks. But those few families left in Amity Park who know the truth about everything, descendants of the Fenton family, are really good at faking paperwork when it’s needed, and whenever Ellie comes to the timeline, they always welcome her with open arms. Aunt Jenny had her second child recently, and named her daughter Eleanor—Ellie could not contain herself at that news.

It gets her through, and that’s what matters. She doesn’t have a return flight planned, but nobody in the airport stops her, even if she is a young American girl with just a single backpack. They’re all too absorbed in their own worlds, in their phones, or on the TV screens of some sort of event going on in Japan.

She walks up to one of the screens. It’s playing highlights of something, but Japanese kanji is harder for her to read than just simply understanding the language. She glances to a man standing not too far off, watching the screen as well.

“Excuse me, sir?” As a clone, she does have a similar Allspeak ability to her donor. Unfortunately, sometimes it takes a few minutes to warm it up, and it makes her sound like a tourist at first. Oh well. “What is playing on the television right now?”

“Huh? An American?” The man asks, in English, a little awkwardly. “Ah, the U.A. Sports Festival.”

“Sports Festival?” Ellie repeats in English. “And I can speak Japanese, too.”

The man slips back into his native tongue. “The U.A. Sports Festival is going on today. For the number one hero school?”

The hero school rings a bell in her head. Clockwork had sent her to Japan a few decades ago to do… Something. They send her on so many missions, it can be hard to keep up with it sometimes, but she did do something that was supposed to benefit U.A, or at least, she hopes that’s what she was supposed to do. Clockwork is a little cryptic like that. Apparently things were a little glitchy in the Alpha timeline, and they needed someone to go in and do the dirty work, someone who wasn’t being observed by the old eyeballs. And Ellie was the right candidate for the job.

She nods, and gives the innocent man a smile. “Ah! Thank you, sir. Have a great day!”

“You, too, miss.” The man replies, turning back to the screen, enthralled by the highlights.

Ellie couldn’t really be bothered with it. As fun as it’d be to go sneak in and watch it, she has a mission. Not an official mission from Clockwork—she’d know if the Ancient of Time wanted her do to something, and they hadn’t popped in on her yet—but a personal mission.

Once she gets through the airport security, Ellie digs out the compass again. In her human form—which hasn’t changed since she’d turned eighteen so many years ago—she keeps it on a chain as a necklace. A bit of a tacky one, but nobody looks at her strange for it. Stepping aside and out of the crowds, she holds up the compass again. The needle twirls, before pointing her in the direction that she needs to go.

And then her stomach growls.

Ellie is a neverborn halfa; something that shouldn’t quite exist, yet she does. She never died, but she was never born to begin with. She might still have a “human” form that functions similarly to an actual human body, but it doesn’t usually require much more than a nap every now and again. But the smell of the small restaurant kiosks in the airport did make her mouth water, as much as she tried to deny it.

“Take me to food, first, actually.” She mutters to the compass in a language no one else around her could understand, and the needle swings into the opposite direction. She’s not on a time crunch, after all; Ellie can meet the new Champion of Balance whenever she wants to.

✨👻✨

Lunch break for the students at the Sports. Festival is pretty long; an hour for students to rest and recover after the first two rounds before the final round. Hitoshi is pretty glad that they’re not trapped by anything, once they return to their locker rooms after the second round, the students are free to get a free lunch from the cafeteria (made by Lunch Rush, of course) or catch up with their family and friends before the final round.

This time is also supposed to be when they can schmooze with heroes, or when heroes can talk to them, but despite Hitoshi’s performance so far, he melts into the background of the crowds.

“Hitoshi!” Izuku’s voice catches his attention immediately, and he can spot the other jumping through the crowd to get his attention. Jumping pretty high, really—he wonders if he’s using his ghost-powers to do that…

Which, wow.

He isn’t sure he’s given himself the time or energy to properly process everything from the last week; from the last-minute sports festival training to discovering his first and best friend is a vigilante who also isn’t all that human. It doesn’t change Hitoshi’s opinion of Izuku, of course. But it makes things really, really bizarre, all of a sudden.

“You’re looking amazing out there, Hitoshi!” Izuku says the moment that he’s sure Hitoshi will hear. “Like yeah you’re not in first place, but first place is kind-of overrated, isn’t it? I’m sure that K—Bakugou and the Todoroki boy will definitely place top five, but that isn’t to say you don’t have a chance, either! The great thing about your position so far is that Present Mic hasn’t announced your Quirk yet, so you can really use that to your advantage—”

Too fast. “Izuku.” Hitoshi interrupts. “Are you even breathing right now?”

“Uh.” Izuku glances around. Hitoshi’s dad stepped aside to get them some festival food. “I forgot?”

“You… forgot?”

“Well, when I’m… Y’know.” Izuku nervously clears his throat, lowering his voice. Loud enough for Hitoshi to hear, but a passersby might miss the details. Nor would they really care to pay attention, though, about the discussion from a Quirkless boy (the shoes are a giveaway, now that Hitoshi knows what they mean) to another boy who is good at blending into the background and not being seen. “I don’t need to breathe. So, I guess, when I’m me-me, I don’t need to breathe… that much?”

“Ah.” That makes sense but feels a little more—pun intended—haunting. “Right.”

“Anyway. I think you still have a shot to make it into the top ten! Maybe even top five, if you get lucky with who you’re against.” Izuku continues, as if their awkward conversation about how he doesn’t need to breathe that much to live anymore. Like, they’re just going to move on.

“Back up. We’re just going to move on from the whole… breathing thing?”

“I mean—I guess, yeah?” Izuku shrugs, nervously playing with the edges of the notebook he brought with him. “U-Uh, sorry. I guess, on a second thought, it does sound kinda. Creepy when I explain it more.”

“No, when you say it that nonchalantly, it’s a little odd, but it’s not creepy.”

“Oh.” Izuku’s face falls, a bit.

Hitoshi shakes his head. He’d invited Izuku to have fun, and wasn’t expecting to somehow insult him in the process. His dad is still haggling with the stand owner for a lower price, so he tries to push the awkward conversation aside. “Look, let’s just. Uh. Move on. You think I could make top ten?”

“Top ten? Of course!” Izuku perks up almost immediately. “It’s not just all based on luck, either. You just have to be smart with your Quirk.”

Smart? With my Quirk? Hitoshi has pretty good grades, sure—but he’s not top-of-the-class smart. He’s average all around, really. “How can I be smarter than some of my classmates? Some of them are, like, geniuses, you know, and they know my Quirk.”

“Well, then, maybe don’t use it?”

“What?”

“Well, that’s what they’ll be expecting, right?” Izuku asks. Hitoshi doesn’t answer, so he continues. “You’ve been training your body and your Quirk for the last few weeks for this, and you have the self-defense training with your teacher, too. Your classmates will expect you to try and trick them out of the ring immediately with your Quirk, so they won’t be responsive, but they won’t expect you to not use it. Especially since this is the biggest event in all of Japan!”

Don’t use your Quirk? Hm. It’s an interesting strategy, for sure. “But what about Todoroki? He’ll just glacier me right out of the stadium and it’s over for me.”

“That’s true, his Quirk is really powerful. Hypothetically you could try to outlast him and let him freeze himself, but he has fire, though, doesn’t he?”

“I think. I’ve never seen him use it.”

“Even still, you’d need something to help you against the ice.” Izuku hums, opening his notebook that was now full of notes from just about every member of Hitoshi’s class and then some. “Does he like jokes?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him smile.” Hitoshi says. Then, he pauses. He hasn’t seen Todoroki’s smile. Why is this now noticeable?

“Oh. That’s. Hm. Interesting.” Izuku grabs a pencil from his pocket and scribble something onto his notebook page. By then, Hitoshi’s dad has haggled the festival vendor’s price down, and is bringing two orders of takoyaki and one order of taiyaki for Izuku. They find a picnic table that’s out of the way and sit down at it.

Takoyaki probably isn’t the best food to eat at the Sports Festival when Hitoshi feels like he’s staring down immediate doom, but it’s better than nothing. He might swipe an onigiri from the cafeteria before their hour lunch break is up to help tide him over, but he’s not even all that hungry.

It feels like Hitoshi is in a shark tank, and he’s bleeding.

“I think the best strategy is to just try to think outside the box against your opponent, yeah?” Izuku suggests, having already swallowed his order of taiyaki almost whole. “They might expect you to use your Quirk, so don’t. Or do it when you finally get their guard down! Or just play the cool, silent type the whole match!”

“You’ve got this, Hitoshi.” His dad adds. He still looks a little pale after having watched Izuku swallow the taiyaki nearly whole. It was definitely a slightly terrifying experience.

“Thanks, I guess.” He mutters, poking at his Takoyaki. It’s nice that at least two people have faith in them, but he has a feeling that faith is mostly unjustified.

✨👻✨

“WELCOME BACK MY BEAUTIFUL LISTENERS! THAT WAS SOME REALLY GOOD GRUB, WASN’T IT? BUT DON’T REST UP ON YOUR LAURELS JUST YET, STUDENTS! SIXTEEN OF YOU STILL HAVE THE FINAL ROUND AHEAD OF YOU—THE TOURNAMENT ROUND! MY DEAREST CO-HOST, CARE TO EXPLAIN THE RULES?”

“No.”

“PLEASE?”

“No.”

“OKAY, I GUESS I WILL. BUT THE RULES ARE PRETTY SIMPLE. A ONE-ON-ONE MATCH AGAINST A FELLOW STUDENT. WHOEVER GETS KNOCKED OUT OF THE ARENA FIRST OR CAN NO LONGER PARTICIPATE LOSES! THE WINNER WILL MOVE ON UNTIL WE HAVE ONE REMAINING! EASY, RIGHT?”

“A child could understand this. I don’t see why we have to explain it.”

“FOR THE AUDIENCE, MY DEAREST CO-HOST! FOR THE AUDIENCE!”

“Please, end me.”

Chapter Text

The students gather around the main stage, watching as the screen pops up with the first rounds. Hitoshi watches, eyes wide, as the names pop up on the screen.

Bakugou and Hatsume? That’ll be interesting. Kaminari and Iida? Iida will definitely win. Where am I, where am I…?

TODOROKI SHOUTO
RIN HIRYU

KENDO ITSUKA
URARAKA OCHAKO

KAMINARI DENKI
IIDA TENYA

BAKUGOU KATSUKI
HATSUME MEI

HAGAKURE TORU
KIRISHIMA EIJIRO

SERO HANTA
SHINSOU HITOSHI

SATO AIKIDO
ASUI TSUYU

ASHIDO MINA
KODA KOJI

Ah! Hitoshi spots his name. The second to last fight of the first round, which gives him more time to relax. Or even more time to panic and freak out and make himself anxious over everything. But who’s he against…?

…Sero?!

He hadn’t talked to Sero all that much. Usually, Sero was a part of Bakugou’s friend group. If one could even call it a “friend” group, but Bakugou had at least stopped the foaming at the mouth routine whenever Ashido, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero would sit by him at lunch, so it was some sort of friendly group? It was one Hitoshi avoided nevertheless. Not only was Bakugou’s personality too much, but he was also Izuku’s number-one bully for his whole life, so maybe Hitoshi is holding a grudge.

It's not a good look to hold a grudge as a hero but fuck that, honestly.

Sero isn’t what he expected, sure. He’s a skinny beanpole of a kid, even skinnier than Hitoshi himself, but with his long legs and Quirk, he’s got leverage against Hitoshi. Leverage and a physical Quirk, too.

But the Quirk itself—it was similar to Aizawa-sensei’s capture weapon. So, maybe…

Think outside the box, Izuku said.

Hopefully, he can.

✨👻✨

Shouto doesn’t know who Rin Hiryu is, but he’s up against them as the first match of the final round. He’s obviously from Class 1-B; a fellow hero student. One that a part of Shouto wishes he didn’t have to fight. Even not knowing his Quirk, Shouto knows that this match is stacked in his favor.

He just has to ignore the boiling in his blood to deliver a swift and cold victory.

Shouto’s father had stopped him at lunch, as he was heading back to the locker rooms before the hour was over. He isn’t even sure how or why that man was there; he just was. Probably used his number-two status to get back there. Either way, it was unexpected, and it’s left Shouto with a fiery hot anger he’s trying his best to extinguish before it grows into a blazing inferno out of control.

“You must stop this childish game immediately, Shouto! Your Quirk is not just Ice, it is also Fire! Your senseis have told me you have not been using your Quirk to the fullest. How dare you disrespect me like this!”

No, no, no, no no no no--

Shouto takes a deep breath. He steps onto the arena stage.

Rin is staring at him from across the way. He offers a polite smile and a wave.

Shouto doesn’t return it. He’s focused on getting the fire to cool off, to freeze over, so it doesn’t break through again. He’s usually good about focusing on his ice—only his ice—but there are times where it slips out, suddenly, before Shouto can stop it. Those times have only ever happened at home, after training with his father goes a hair too far, and he’s left beaten and broken on the mats and begging for relief and for it to stop—

The sound of the flag in the wind catches Shouto’s attention, bringing him out of his thoughts and bad memories. Rin’s arms stiffen up into emerald green scales. That must be his Quirk.

It’s unfortunate that it isn’t enough. Shouto locks eyes with Rin before Rin charges, but by then, it’s already too late. It’s a simple movement, a turn of his right heel. The ice explodes from underfoot, and it spreads like a glacier across the arena, freezing Rin solid, mid-attack.

“IT LOOKS LIKE WE ALREADY HAVE A WINNER! TODOROKI SHOUTO, WITH ANOTHER FABULOUS GLACIER OF ICE!”

The ice kills the heat threatening to build up in Shouto. Just a little bit.

“WE’RE GOING TO TAKE FIVE MINUTES TO THAW OUT THIS GLACIER, AND THEN WE’LL MOVE ON TO THE SECOND MATCH, Y’ALL!”

“We’re in Japan, why the hell are you using ‘y’all’.”

✨👻✨

Katsuki isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be expecting going against that pink-haired freak. She’s from one of the Support Classes and the only non-hero department student to get to the tournament round.

When he steps on stage, she steps just as eager, but her head looks like it’s in her own little world. Katsuki assumes it’ll be an easy win.

She’s a Support Class weirdo, after all. They build stuff and make their hero costumes. He doubts that she has any sort of offensive Quirk, especially with all the tech she brings on stage with her. She’s got weird metal boots up to her knees, braces around her wrists, something around her belt, and stupid-ass goggles, along with a silver bag on her back. He can’t tell if she’s just got a thing for things in silver or if she made a bag literally from silver.  

Deku would’ve been good in the Support Class, he thinks to himself, but pushes that thought out of his head almost immediately.

The sniveling coward wouldn’t be anywhere near U.A. if Katsuki had something to say about it—and he has a lot he could say about it. He hadn’t heard from the Quirkless idiot since he’d left Aldera, but looking through the crowd, it looks like a head of curly green hair is sitting amongst the crowd in the distance—no, no, no.

Focus, Katsuki.

Focus!

The speakers squeal to life, and Present Mic’s voice cracks over them.

“LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR THE FOURTH FIGHT OF THE AFTERNOON! WE’RE ALREADY HALFWAY THROUGH THE FIRST BATCH, ISN’T THAT CRAZY!?”

Hobo-sensei’s voice is picked up over the mic, but barely. “Time passes.”

“AS IT DOES, MY FRIEND! ANYWAY, WHO DO WE HAVE FIGHTING HERE, YOU MIGHT BE ASKING? FROM CLASS 1-A, THE HOT-SHOT, HOT-HEADED, HOT-BLOODED, EXPLOSIVE, BAKUGOU KATSUKI! FROM 1-H, THE ONLY NON-HERO STUDENT IN THE FINAL ROUND, IT’S THE TALENTED, BRILLIANT, AND ALSO EXPLOSIVE-PRONE HATSUME MEI!”

Just to show off, Katsuki allows a few small fireworks to go off in his palms.

Goggles doesn’t look too intimidated by it. In fact, she’s not even looking directly at him. She’s looking at the crowd, her eyes wide and sparkling.

“GET READY FOR AN INTERESTING MATCH, FOLKS!”

“It’ll be quick, too!” Katsuki snarls, holding back as Midnight-sensei raises her flag. On the count of three, she drops it, signaling the start of the first match.

Katsuki charges, but Goggles is faster. She taps the heels of her metal boots together, and a burst of fire explodes from right under them, shooting her up into the air. It’s fast and instantaneous enough that it nearly sends him careening out the edge of the arena, which wouldn’t be good because that would disqualify him. He barely catches himself before he crosses the line.

Bitch! He thinks, again, glancing up. Goggles grabs something from her pocket. Is that a fucking microphone?!

“Greetings, ladies, gentlemen, and esteemed nonbinary guests!” Goggles says, and her voice picks up in the speakers around them. “I’m Hatsume Mei, it’s a pleasure to meet you all! Now, I’m an inventor, not a fighter, so let’s talk inventions. More specifically—my babies!”

What.

The.

Fuck.

✨👻✨

The last few matches were very… interesting.

Bakugou is still hilariously steaming over the match he had with the 1-H support girl, Hatsume, and Hitoshi definitely enjoyed every second of that. Any time that the blond had tried to jump into the air and knock her down, she managed to effortlessly dodge and float to the side. Hatsume went in with a mission to pitch herself, and when her pitch was over, she landed and walked right off the stage before Bakugou could do anything.

Unfortunately for Kaminari, Iida had managed to defeat him in record time. After short-circuiting his brain with a huge electric attack that Iida managed to power through, he’d been flipped out of the arena with very little fanfare.

Other matches were more tense. Uraraka managed to hold her own against a girl from 1-B, Kendo, long enough to knock her out of the ring. Kirishima had a rough time against Hagakure after the girl had completely disappeared on him, and Hitoshi really, really hopes that she’s not completely nude out there, but Kirishima was able to squeak out a win against her by hardening his hands into the dirt of the arena floor and sending dust into the air, which clung to Hagakure enough for him to see.

And of course, there was the match with Todoroki and Rin, from Class 1-B. But that match was over before it even started.

Now it’s Hitoshi’s turn, and he feels like he’s going to explode. Explode into a big bloody mess that lines the walls of U.A.’s stadium. They’ll have to use spatulas to peel his body off of the sides. It’ll be embarrassing. Izuku might even laugh at him.

Okay, that’s enough catastrophizing for now, he thinks, taking a deep breath.  

Sero is not the dumbest of the class, and he’s versatile with his Quirk. In comparison to Hitoshi’s own Quirk, Sero has the power and skill above him, not to mention, Sero knows what Hitoshi’s Quirk is, so he won’t fall for any of his tricks to get a response.

It’s times like these where Hitoshi wishes he’d been born different. Born with a different Quirk—something strong, something powerful. But he’s stuck with what he’s got right now, and right now, he needs a plan, even though he feels like he’s about to melt right out of his uniform.

“WE’RE ALMOST THROUGH THE FIRST ROUND, FOLKS! ISN’T THAT AWESOME?! NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, THE THIRD-TO-LAST MATCH… SERO HANTA VERSUS SHINSOU HITOSHI, BOTH OF CLASS 1-A!”

“Hey, Shinsou!” Sero’s smiling and confident, because, well, of course he is—as far as everyone knows, Sero has this match in the bag. All he has to do is knock Hitoshi out of the ring, and he can do that from the other side. “No hard feelings, right?”

No hard feelings. Hitoshi bites back a laugh but still nods. His voice is a little quieter, but Sero is able to hear it over the roaring crowd. “No hard feelings.”

Think outside of the box, Izuku’s voice reminds him.

Midnight’s flag swings in the air, the fabric catching in the wind.

The match begins.

Sero technically moves first, knocking his forearms back to shoot out his cellophane tape. It shoots out immediately, right for Hitoshi, but he ducks under it just in time.

Even Hitoshi is surprised that he managed to dodge the first attack, but he takes the chance to sprint at Sero, keeping his mouth shut. Sero shoots his tape out again, just from one elbow, and Hitoshi grabs onto the piece and pulls down on it, pulling Sero with it.

“Whoa—hey!” Sero yelps, stumbling forward.

Hitoshi doesn’t give him a second to bounce back from the attack. Quiet, close, and quick. As Sero stumbles forward, Hitoshi kicks his leg up, and his knee connects with Sero’s chest. Quiet, close, and quick.

From the classes that Hitoshi could remember before the Sports Festival, he had noticed that Sero kept himself at a distance in training. He never engaged in anything up close, not a lot of hand-to-hand combat, just relying on his Quirk.

But Hitoshi has to fight Quirkless. He has to fight Quirkless against his classmates most of the time. A few of them (Kaminari) are easier to trick than others with his own Quirk, but most of his classmates know Brainwash now. Not all of them are that comfortable with being controlled, either, which sucks because Hitoshi needs to strengthen his Quirk, but not many people are willing to lose the control they have of their mind and body.

Managing to wind Sero with the kick to the chest, Hitoshi panics. He didn’t think he’d get this far with Sero. He was expecting the first attack to wrap him up or throw him out of bounds, but by some miracle, Hitoshi dodged it. Quickly quickly quickly--

One of his hands is still stuck to the piece of tape that Sero had shot out. Without a lot of plan and mostly prayers to whatever deities might be watching him, he took the piece of tape (about a foot long) and quickly wrapped it around Sero’s right arm, sticking his own elbows together. The slits on his elbows are barely covered. He could probably still break out easily, but at least Hitoshi can say he’d attempted to use Sero’s Quirk against him and he can say he made it this far in the finals.

“WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! SHINSOU HAS MANAGED TO GET SERO WRAPPED UP IN HIS OWN TAPE! HOPEFULLY HE’S STRONG ENOUGH TO BREAK OUT OF IT ON HIS OWN, OR HE’LL BE FIGHTING WITHOUT HIS QUIRK!”

Sero breaks out of Hitoshi’s grasp and jumps back. Still in the ring, unfortunately. He smirks, still confident in the match, even with the tape around his elbows. “Smart thinking! I’m surprised you haven’t said anything yet, though. Cat got your tongue?”

He might fall for it now, Hitoshi thinks. I could try and end it now. But he doesn’t, holding his tongue. It might be missing his shot, but like Izuku had suggested—he needs to stay unpredictable. Plus, if he doesn’t use his Quirk, it won’t be announced to the audience and the other students fighting.

Even though most of them are 1-A students who know his Quirk.

Sero charges at Hitoshi, arms still stuck together, swinging them like a bludgeoning weapon. Even without his Quirk, Sero’s still pretty fast. Hitoshi gets knocked in the side by Sero’s arms, nearly knocking him over.

Present Mic’s commentary isn’t helping with his match. “OUCH! THAT’LL LEAVE A BRUISE!”

“I’ve gotta give it to you, Shinsou. I wasn’t expecting this much of a fight from you!” Sero laughs. “No offense, dude, but your Quirk—”

Hitoshi was getting really tired of what people were saying about his Quirk at this point. Without even thinking, he charged again, ignoring the pain erupting in his side, and he swung at Sero’s face. His fist connected—for once— with a crack, and it sent Sero down.

“OUCH! THAT WAS A STRONG HIT FROM SHINSOU! CAN SERO RECOVER IN TIME?”

Sero glances up, a bit of blood leaking from his nose. “What the hell, dude—I think you broke my nose!”

“IS SERO GOING TO GET BACK UP AGAIN? OR WILL SHINSOU CLAIM THE VICTORY THIS ROUND?”

Midnight clears her throat, and Hitoshi glances to where she’s standing. Her eyes are trained right on Sero. “Are you still able to fight?”

“I—” Sero tries to push himself up, but with his elbows still tied together, and the bloody nose, it doesn’t go very well. “—Probably not, actually. Ouch. You have a mean left hook, Shinsou.”

Midnight nods, and swings the flag into the air.

“AND THERE WE HAVE IT, FOLKS! SHINSOU HITOSHI MOVES ONTO THE NEXT ROUND OF THE TOURNAMENT, WITHOUT EVEN USING HIS QUIRK!”

He did it.

Hitoshi actually did it.

He reaches down and helps pull Sero up. “Sorry about the punch. And the, uh. Taping your arms up.”

“No, it was a good idea!” Sero admits. “I underestimated you. I thought you’d go right for your Quirk. It was smart, getting me in close quarters. Guess I need to work on that!”

“Aizawa-sensei is going to grill you on this.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll suck. Good luck with the next round, Shinsou.”

I probably won’t make it much farther, Hitoshi thinks, but he doesn’t say it aloud. “…Thanks.”

Chapter Text

Ochako is nervous.

Of course, she’s thankful to have made it this far in the Sports Festival. The Labyrinth was scary, but she’d made it through. Her team-up with Shinsou in the team game helped propel her this far. And Hatsume had even given her a business card—a business card—with some tips and ideas for inventions that could be used to help her Quirk. So, she’d made a new friend (though, the friend part is a little questionable). The fight with Kendo, the girl from 1-B, was hard, but she’d pulled through! She was getting so far!

But now she knows she’s about to walk into a match that she is going to lose.

“You can’t feel too discouraged, Uraraka!” Iida tries cheering her up, but even his silly, signature hand gestures aren’t cheering her up. “Todoroki might be powerful and strong, but you’ve made it just as far as he did!”

“You might lose.”

“S—Shinsou, we’re here to try to help cheer Uraraka up!” Iida chastises. “Not make her feel worse!”

“It’s okay, Iida, really!” Ochako sighs. “You know, I made it this far— and we’re only first-years, you know! I have two more shots to make it even higher after this!”

Scratch that. Ochako is terrified and has been terrified ever since she’d seen her name pop up next to one Todoroki Shouto.

It’s not an overexaggeration to say that Todoroki is probably the most powerful student in their class. Even though he’s reserved and quiet, he’s a powerhouse with his ice. As should be expected of the son of the No. 2 Hero, Endeavor. Supposedly he can control fire, too, but he doesn’t seem to ever use that aspect of his Quirk.

(Ochako doesn’t know why, it seems like it’d be pretty helpful with his ice. Maybe he’s scared of fire? That brings up the next question—if his father, Endeavor, can control fire, too, why would he be scared of it?)

But that’s not the point, anyway. The point is—Ochako is set to fight Todoroki next, and she knows she is going to lose. No matter what sort of plan her brain tries to come up with—getting her out of the air before Todoroki can make her an Ochako-popsicle in a glacier like he’d done to that poor 1-B kid is her best option. But using her Quirk on herself would make her too nauseous to fight. She doesn’t have the braces from her hero costumes, since they’re not technically considered a support item like Aoyama’s belt is.

There’s also not enough on the field that qualifies as debris. She could try to hack off some ice with her bare hands to float back towards him, but ice is cold. She knows how cold winters get, especially when the heaters don’t work, and she never likes it. Winter is just too cold.

Shinsou interrupts her thoughts. “Well, if you’re set on losing, at least have a fun time with it.”

“Shinsou!” Iida chastises, again.

It makes Ochako laugh, at least, and Shinsou awkwardly smirks.

✨👻✨

“Um, uh, I’m going to run to the bathroom!”

Shinsou’s dad glances at him over his sunglasses. “You, uh, don’t need to tell me when you’re going. But you’ll miss the next match, Midoriya.”

Right, right… Izuku wishes he could stay to watch the match, but it’s obvious what’s going to happen. Iida Tenya versus Bakugou Katsuki? Kacchan is going to demolish his competition, just as he always does. It sucks for Iida, but it’s predictable. Bakugou is gonna start with his right hook, and then it will all be over there for him.

“Bakugou’s gonna win. It’ll be over in, like, ten minutes at most.” Izuku replies casually, slipping his notebook and pen into his bag and tucking it under the stadium seat before awkwardly squeezing by Shinsou’s dad and walking down the stairs.

Something’s nagging at Izuku.

That something being the one boy.

Todoroki Shouto.

Now, maybe it’s his experience being the vigilante Phantom for the last few months that’s made him this way, maybe it’s his half-death and his obsession to know things, or maybe it’s just the way Izuku has always been—he’s not good at minding his own business. He knows he used to creep people out when he asked them about their Quirks on the streets, and he stopped doing that after he’d been yelled at too many times by strangers when just asking simple questions. He stopped sharing analysis with his so-called “friends” when they started to mock and tease him for not having the one thing he so desperately wished for, a Quirk of his own. Most of it was kept to himself, now.

But he can’t ignore the feeling in his core right now.

Transforming on not only U.A.’s highly guarded grounds, surrounded by hundreds, if not, thousands of pro-heroes, is not a good idea. He might get picked up by sensors he can’t even see, Quirks he doesn’t even know exist, and could easily be apprehended.

But. He’s getting a little dizzy ignoring the feeling in his core, to go, go, go, and figure out what the Todoroki boy’s deal is with his Quirk. He finds himself in the stalls of the stadium bathrooms, which are completely empty, with everybody watching the match with pure glee. A television hastily added into the bathrooms is giving the same highlights that the larger screens are giving, and the match between Bakugou and Iida Tenya starts the moment Izuku locks the stall door.

It's an easy change, allowing the two rings to wash over his body. It’s definitely a lot less obvious than his bright flashes of light, and once he feels weightless and free again, Izuku lets himself disappear and tries to juggle intangibility at the same time. It’s not something he’s done often, but it is something he should try to practice more, because going completely undetectable like this is really, really handy.

He flies through a few of the floors below the main seating a little quickly. He isn’t sure how he’s going to find Todoroki, but from what Izuku could see, he wasn’t sitting with his classmates across the stadium, so he had to be somewhere down below them, right? Maybe in a waiting room or one of the locker rooms, since his match is right after this one, and it’ll be coming quickly.

Izuku drops down to the main floor, landing as quietly as he can. He keeps ahold of his invisibility and looks around at the hallway intersection he’s come to.

Endeavor walks in from one side.

Izuku’s never seen Endeavor this up-close before. The No. 2 Hero isn’t one of Izuku’s favorites, especially for the amount of property and collateral damage the man seems to cause without a single care in the world. But Izuku can’t deny that the flames aren’t oddly comforting, to him. Flames like the ones his father was said to breathe out.

Izuku wonders if he had been born with a Quirk, if genetics would have played out to give him similar abilities to the No. 2 hero. If he wasn’t born Quirkless, probably.

Right behind him is his son, the youngest Todoroki.

And he looks…

Terrified.

The pro-hero stops the two of them in the hallway intersection. Endeavor must’ve caught his son walking to one of the waiting rooms, it seems. And Todoroki doesn’t look pleased, under the terror he’s so desperately trying to hide.

Endeavor huffs angrily, the flames around his face glowing brighter. “We are going to need to train this fear out of you, Shouto. This is ridiculous.”

“It’s not a fear.” Todoroki mutters back.

“It is something childish and outright stupid.” Endeavor bites back at his son. “I did not have to spend all those years training you, Shouto. I did it because I am your father, and you will be the hero that will surpass all other heroes.”

Todoroki Shouto opens his mouth to reply, but clearly thinks better of it, closing it instead.

“If you do not use your fire in your next few rounds at the Sports Festival, we will just have to spend more time coaxing it out at home.” Endeavor adds, crossing his arms behind his back. “Am I clear, Shouto?”

Todoroki looks small. He nods.

“Am I clear?” Endeavor repeats, louder.

“Yes, sir.” Todoroki replies.

Izuku wasn’t sure what to expect with this—but this was not it. A raging, white hot fury felt like it was building up in his core. He couldn’t turn visible—not now, not in front of the No. 2 hero, without causing a bigger scene than needed, but what the hell did he just witness? It’s known that Endeavor can be brazen and uncouth; but most people believe it’s just an act to go with his hero persona. Most people hoped it was just an act, Izuku included.

Well, they say never meet your heroes. Izuku met All Might, and now look at where he is. And while he didn’t technically meet Endeavor right here, and he quietly floats above the pro-hero as he walks away and leaves his son behind; he kinda met one of his back-up favorite heroes and they also managed to crush all his hopes and dreams again. Or, well, his hopes that heroes are generally good people.

He's still doing good, though, Izuku sighs. But how can we measure someone’s character in public when they’re like this in private?

And poor Todoroki—now Izuku understands why he doesn’t use the fire of his Quirk.

But it’s his Quirk. It’s Todoroki’s Quirk. The fire aspect might have come from Endeavor—and Izuku assumes the ice is from his mother—but they merged together to create Todoroki’s own Quirk. They came together to bring Todoroki into this world, but he’s not anybody’s property. He’s his own person.

Izuku now feels like he’s added another thing to his mental to-do list. Help Todoroki Shouto. Easier said than done, of course, but hey—Izuku isn’t one to back down from a challenge.

Todoroki watches his father walk away. His fists clench at his side, and ice frosts over one, while steam rises from the other. “Bastard,” Todoroki mutters in perfect English, before sauntering off in the opposite direction, probably towards the waiting rooms.

Izuku should probably try to sneak back, now, before Hitoshi’s dad starts to really wonder where he is at this point.

✨👻✨

She can’t tell if Todoroki’s few-second hesitation at the start of the match is an attempt to give her a fair fight or not, but if Ochako is going to lose, she’s at least going to try to go down swinging.

Without a glacier against her, she taps her gym clothes to make her lighter, a trick she learned a long time ago, and bolts for Todoroki. He seems to snap out of whatever funk he was in soon after that. The glacier he summons is large, but not as large as the one he used against the 1-B student, Rin. Uraraka ducks and rolls around it, before jumping back up on her feet.

Her plan is a little simple—but it doesn’t need to be a complicated strategy. She just needs to get close enough to grab ahold of Todoroki, and when he’s weightless, fling him out of the arena.

The odds of that happening, though?

Close to zero, in all honesty. Ochako knows that she’s a little outmatched by the strongest kid in her class. But, hey, she’s going to give it her best try.

Todoroki doesn’t stutter again, and another glacier rises from her side with a flick of his wrist. He’s probably picked up on her simple, easy plan—or perhaps he just figures that it’s what Ochako would go with anyway. She notices that he does shiver, a bit, with summoning the next glacier, and his breath looks a little frosty.

Why, though?

Present Mic had explained Todoroki’s Quirk earlier, on the speakers, but it didn’t make any sense to Ochako then, and it doesn’t now. In all the time of knowing him, she’s never seen him use the “fire” side of his Quirk. Never. Not even in training. Not even on accident. Something is keeping the flames buried within. What is it, and why? He could be so much stronger with a blast of fire, too; and he could easily warm himself up without the risk of frostbite. So why--?

The ice circles Ochako quickly. She’s not completely frozen in, but slippery ice is surrounding her in every direction. The ice even creates a dome over her before she can even consider trying to float out of the top, which sucks. He was so fast and quick with it, his control of his Quirk is impressive, and Ochako is jealous.

“IT LOOKS LIKE TODOROKI HAS URARAKA TRAPPED! WILL SHE BE ABLE TO GET OUT, OR WILL THE MATCH END HERE?”

I’ll try, Ochako thinks, and sprints to one of the sides of ice. It does chip under her when she hits her body into it, but not enough to get through. Still, she tries again, even if the cold air of the dome is really, really, cold. She can see her own breath. The ice chips more, but not enough. Of course, it’s not enough.

“IT LOOKS LIKE OCHAKO IS FROZEN IN!”

Well, at least she’d tried. Bummer she didn’t even get a good hit in on Todoroki, but she’s lasted the longest out of everyone who’s ever tried to go against the number-one student of Class 1-A. So-- hey, that's something to be proud of.

✨👻✨

“Hey, Shinsou!” Kirishima yells from across the arena as their match starts.

Of course, he’s up against not only a close-range fighter, but he’s up against Kirishima, of all people. Hitoshi can’t rely on Quirkless fighting alone; he has to be even smarter in comparison to his last match.

Kirishima charges, arms already hardened and swinging. The last thing Hitoshi needs is to be hit by one of those.

“I kinda had a thought! I know how your Quirk works from training, so as long as I keep talking, you can’t get a word in! Isn’t that a great idea?”

Oh, and he even came in with a plan. Well, isn’t that great.

Hitoshi holds his tongue, though not that it would help, any. Kirishima is still, somehow talking.

“So, I’m just gonna talk about something random and drown out your own voice! Anyway, I was walking home from school the other day, and—”

He starts into a story about spotting Aizawa-sensei after class a few weeks ago, but Hitoshi isn’t really paying attention. He’s focused on not getting hit by Kirishima’s jabs and punches. Even if they weren’t as rock-solid and concrete-breaking with his Quirk, being hit by Kirishima hurts normally. The other boy is a lot stronger and bulkier than Hitoshi is, probably due to his Quirk and a touch of genetics.

Hitoshi is lean and not as muscular, but he’s just a little bit faster, which is barely enough to dodge what Kirishima is throwing his way.

He’s talking to himself so loudly so he can’t hear what I have to say, and he’s stronger than me, physically. How do I get this fight in my favor?

Think outside the box. Think outside the box.

“Can you believe it? Aizawa-sensei was baby-talking to a little cat! I don’t think I’ve ever heard his voice that soft before! He was so gentle with the cat. It really made me re-consider the persona he puts on in class, yeah?” Kirishima is still prattling on, but he is getting a little breathless with it.

And then a thought comes to Hitoshi.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ll still take him seriously—"

He stops, mid-action, right as Kirishima slides to his left. In a loud, monotone voice, Hitoshi announces, “This isn’t worth it. I might as well just step out.” He turns around, and starts walking towards the edge of the arena.

That catches Kirishima’s attention, mid-sentence. Even Midnight starts to raise her flag, but she waits for Hitoshi to make his step over the line. “Wh—really?!”

Yes! It’s enough of a response. Hitoshi grabs at Kirishima’s mind, and pulls as hard as he can. The lights in Kirishima’s eyes flicker out quickly, and Hitoshi can feel him completely under control.

“WHAT’S THIS?! KIRISHIMA HAS COMPLETELY STOPPED HIS ATTACKS! WHAT IS GOING ON?”

“Walk out of the arena.” Hitoshi commands, and Kirishima turns around, mind lost in a fog, and starts walking towards the edge of the arena, right next to Hitoshi. “And stay there.”

“AND KIRISHIMA IS WALKING OUT OF BOUNDS! OH, HOW THE TABLES HAVE TURNED! ARE YOU SEEING THIS?”

“Yes, I am. I am right next to you. I can see everything.”

Present Mic’s voice ignores Aizawa-sensei’s comment. “BUT WHAT’S GOING ON, YOU MAY BE ASKING! WELL, DEAR LISTENERS, THAT’S SHINSOU HITOSHI’S QUIRK IN ACTION! BRAINWASH—IF HE GETS A RESPONSE, HE CAN TELL YA WHAT TO DO! AND OH, NO, KIRISHIMA IS OUT OF BOUNDS, MEANING THAT THE MATCH GOES TO SHINSOU!”

It was a close call, really. And he was lucky enough to trick Kirishima. Once the match is called, Hitoshi releases his grasp on Kirishima’s mind, and the boy blinks, before loudly groaning.

“Man! I thought I had the best plan!”

“It was good.” Hitoshi says, stepping off next to where he stood. “You got a little too excited that I said I was going to quit.”

Kirishima laughs, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, that cost me, didn’t it? I should really expect that from you, though! You’re all tricky and smart with your words like that.”

Hitoshi shrugs in response. Most of the time, he doesn’t exactly mean what he’s saying. Calling people names and making fun of them is one of the easiest ways to make people reply to him, but when people are already aware of his Quirk, it makes it a little more difficult. Still, he does try his best.

He’ll probably get knocked out in the next round, but hey—he made it to the top four, so that’s definitely enough to be proud of, there. Hopefully Izuku and his dad are still cheering on him from the crowd.

✨👻✨

Of all the times to get a call from someone that Toshinori used to know, it has to be in the middle of the Sports Festival, of all things! The caller ID nearly makes him jump out of his skin. He wasn’t expecting him, of all people, to know exactly how to use a cell phone.

Hell, that old man emails him every few months with the same question. Suddenly getting a phone call from him is definitely worthy of a jump. And maybe a drink, later.

“So, you find any successor at that fancy-schmancy school, yet?”

“I—uh, well—” Toshinori glances out of the booth he’s in. One of the many teacher booths scattered throughout the first-year’s stadium. The match between Kirishima Ejiro and Shinsou Hitoshi had just ended. “A few, uh, there are a few I’m narrowed down to.”

“A few?! You don’t have that much time left, Yagi Toshinori!” Oh, god, no, not the full name. It makes him feel like he’s being scolded by his parents. “Look, you’ve gotta settle on a successor in the next two weeks, right? That’s what your stupid deal with Sir was. Which, by the way, I do have a lot to say about that thing—”

“Oh—crrsh—uh oh, Torino-san, uh—crshh—duty calls, gotta go!” Toshinori hangs up without even saying goodbye. He ignores the following ringtone of his phone, and shoves it as deep into his pockets as his phone can go.

Torino is right, though—Toshinori doesn’t have that much time left. The deadline for the deal he made with his old partner, Sir, all those years ago is coming up. It’s the only thing Sir had spoken to him about in the last few years, just a simple question asking if he even remembered the deal. Toshinori almost didn’t, and was almost so overwhelmed by an old friend reaching to speak to him again he almost forgot why they’d had a falling out.

If you can’t find a successor by your 48^th birthday, then I’ll find someone for you.

It’d been a promise to each other, so very long ago. Toshinori didn’t even think Sir still thought or cared about him like that, but having his old friend reach out with the same promise, even after all they’d said to each other… It was a little heartwarming, at least.

But still. The choice isn’t something that should be taken too lightly; and Toshinori doesn’t want somebody to take the choice away from him.

He glances back down to the field, as both Shinsou and Kirishima leave it, and Cementoss comes on stage to brush it off. Not a lot of mess had occurred during that match, but Nedzu demanded every arena stage be as clean as possible for each and every match, even if the students didn’t cause a lot of damage. A strange rat-man, the principal was… Either way, his thoughts wandered to those two boys.

I wonder…

Chapter Text

It’s scary how fast the rest of the Sports Festival passes for Hitoshi.

After he defeats Kirishima, the matches line up as follows:

TODOROKI SHOUTO
BAKUGOU KATSUKI

SHINSOU HITOSHI
ASUI TSUYU

He's against Tsuyu in the semifinal round, but that’s not the fight that’s getting people’s attention. No, it’s Todoroki Shouto and Bakugou Katsuki that will draw the attention for the afternoon.

Which he supposes is good, because then his failure against Tsuyu will probably be forgotten by the crowd in favor of everything.

It’s an interesting match-up. Ice and fire, cold and hot. Even though Todoroki’s Quirk supposedly has a fire aspect to it—not one anyone has ever seen, and there are some rumors going around at the Sports Festival between matches about why—he’s reliant on his ice. Bakugou, on the other hand, is pure heat and fire with his explosions. He can shatter the ice quite easily. But Todoroki seems to have regained a little more color since his fight with Uraraka, and as the two of them step out onto stage, Shinsou can’t help but look on from the bleachers.

“Uh, Shinsou?” Uraraka asks, a little nervously. “Shouldn’t you be in the locker-room downstairs, getting ready?”

“Eh.” He replies with a shrug, not looking up from his phone as it chimes with another message from Izuku.

MINIGHOST
It’s super hard to say which one will make it through the fight. Bakugou’s Quirk is based on his explosive sweat, so all Todoroki needs to do is freeze Bakugou out. But!!! Bakugou is fast and has probably been working up a sweat all day, so he can probably get a good hit in before Todoroki can do that, too. It’s one of the few matches that feel like a total toss-up, but I’m putting my money on Todoroki winning.

CATNYAP
are you just saying that cause you want k to lose

MINIGHOST
I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation.

CATNYAP
anyway that didn’t answer my original question.

MINIGHOST
Right, sorry! But you definitely have enough time to watch the match from the stadium seats here. Even if the match isn’t long, there’s going to be enough destruction to hold yours off a bit

CATNYAP
great more time to put off my inevitable failure

MINIGHOST
You don’t know that! You could definitely win against Asui!

MINIGHOST
Either way, I’m still super proud of how far you made it, Toshi!

“They’re going to completely destroy the field, anyway.” Hitoshi says, pocketing his phone. He glances around. “Where’d Iida go, anyway?”

“Um, I don’t actually know.” Uraraka replies, shrugging. “He got a phone call during your fight with Kirishima, and he had to leave early. I think it was a family emergency.”

Oh. “I, uh, hope everything’s okay with him.”

“I do, too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that… darkly serious? Like, he’s a pretty serious guy, but he just looked… I dunno, so sad, I guess.” Uraraka sighs, turning back to the field, as Midnight motioned for the match to start.

He’ll have to give Izuku credit for the predictions of what would happen, because what Izuku suggested did happen. He’d also have to ask if prophetic visions of the future are another ghost power, because he was creepily accurate with everything, too. Even the fact that Bakugou started the fight with a right hook, that Todoroki easily blocked with a shield made of ice before that shattered into hundreds of pieces.

It does take a bit longer than expected, and there’s a lot of damage on the field when it’s done. Todoroki is half-frozen over by the end of their battle, covered in layers of hoar frost that they could see all the way from the stands, and Bakugou looks more like a popsicle than a human at the end of it. The ends of both of their hair are white from ice and frost, and the chill is starting to creep up the sides of the arena towards the spectators.

Also, Bakugou is frozen completely in ice except for his head.

“WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! IMPRESSIVE WORK DONE BY BOTH SIDES, BUT TODOROKI SHOUTO EMERGES VICTORIOUS!”

“YOU BASTARD!” Bakugou’s voice somehow carries over the loudspeakers in the stadium. “YOU’RE NOT EVEN FIGHTING ME AT FULL POWER! WHAT THE HELL! I WANT A RE-MATCH!” Never mind the fact that he’s immobilized and so cold he isn’t sweating anymore.

His phone buzzes as he steps out and down towards the locker rooms to wait.

MINIGHOST
This is like a dream come true.

CATNYAP
what, the sports festival?

MINIGHOST
No, seeing K get humbled like this.

Hitoshi chuckles.

CATNYAP
anyway gtg about to get owned by tsuyu

And, as he’d thought, he did end up getting his ass kicked by a frog.

✨👻✨

Can any person say it’s surprising how the Sports Festival ended up?

Shouta probably couldn’t say it was.

Shinsou making it to the finals and tying with Bakugou for third place was definitely a bit of a surprise, and he could see the shock on his face when he was escorted out onto the platform next to the other boy. But it wasn’t completely unexpected. The boy is smart and quick; he needs to acknowledge it more in class. Maybe for their finals…

No, that’s a decent time away, still. He’s not even going to deal with thinking about that for now.

The odds were against Shinsou from the very start. Without a physical Quirk, he could have easily been left behind by his peers, but he works hard enough in and outside of class to still keep up with most of them. He doesn’t rely on his Quirk like the others, either; it’s just another tool in his arsenal, as all his kids students should see it. Just something he’ll have to beat into their heads before the end of the year.

Bakugou isn’t as thrilled as being third place on the podium. Compared to his classmates, though; he was easy to figure out and rile up. Had Shinsou been against Bakugou instead of Asui, there might have been a chance for him to place higher, but the matches were as randomized as they could be (a process that involved Hizashi pulling names out of a stupid old hat). Asui had strength and speed over Hitoshi, but he’d made it pretty far with barely using his Quirk, unlike the rest of his class.

“AND THERE YOU HAVE IT, FOLKS!” Hizashi’s voice just as loud in-person as Shouta imagines it is out on the field, as the fireworks start, and ceremonial music starts to play. “ANOTHER SPORTS FESTIVAL COMES TO A CLOSE. THANK YOU ALL FOR ATTENDING, AND AS ALWAYS… PLUS ULTRA!”

Plus ultra! The crowd cheers. Family members, U.A. alumni, pro-heroes—they all cheer for not just the four first years on the podium, but for the rest of the students who might not have placed as high up. Everyone did their best (well, almost everybody, Shouta was dreading the conversation he’s gonna have with Mineta after this), and that does deserve a little bit of appreciation, at the very least.

But thank god it’s finally over. Shouta takes off the headphones and sighs, the ceremonial music fading in the distance.

“That was fantastic, Shou!” Hizashi says, once he’s unplugged and his mic is turned off as well. “Your students—all of them were the top winners for this year! Vlad is going to be so pissed.”

“Good. He should be.” Shouta replies, stretching his legs out.

“And that one boy, Shinsou—he’s practically a mini-you at this point. Did you see his smile up there? It looked just like yours when you’d won the Sports Festival our first year.” Hizashi adds, glancing off into the distance, as if mesmerized by the memories.

Shouta tries to not remember that. Working his way up from the General Education department to the Heroics Department, and eventually being drafted into Nedzu’s special one-student class was enough for him to remember. He doesn’t need to think about all the dirty tricks he’d done on future colleagues to get there. Well, none of them really remembered or cared at that point.

“Do you remember—”

“Nope.” Shouta interrupts before Hizashi can pull him down memory lane, too. He stands up quickly, kicking out the desk chair from behind him. He pulls out his phone, unlocking it to check the time. 4:02. Not that bad. “I’ve got work to do, now.”

“Oh, Shou, c’mon! The Sports Fest just ended; can’t you wait until—”

There’s a missed message on his phone from somebody; and unknown number. Shouta stops in his tracks, ignoring Hizashi’s pleas. It’d been sent an hour ago, about the time Iida had to be excused for a family emergency.

Iida. A family emergency.

Oh no.

UNKNOWN NUMBER
Hello, is this Aizawa Shouta?

“…Shou? Is everything okay?”

Heart pounding, Shouta responds quickly.

ME
Yes, this is. Who is asking?

UNKNOWN NUMBER
This is Iida Masamichi, Tensei’s father.

UNKNOWN NUMBER
I have some bad news.

✨👻✨

“That was amazing!” Izuku says as he and Hitoshi walk back to Hitoshi’s apartment.

His mom had given him permission to stay late with the Shinsou family to celebrate Hitoshi’s win. She’d seen highlights between her shifts at work, and having met Hitoshi and his dad just a week before, was more than willing to let him come home a little later than curfew normally just this once.

“I can’t believe it, either.”

“People were recognizing you in the store, too!”

“Were they?”

“I—they looked like they were recognizing you, at least.” Izuku adds.

Hitoshi smirks, taking a sip of his to-go order of coffee. Izuku didn’t think he needed any more caffeine after everything he’d drank at the Sports Festival, but there’s a time and place, and, hey, he had been tied third place, so as far as Izuku was concerned, Hitoshi could drink as much coffee as his human heart could handle.

“Or were they too distracted by your attempts to try to use the automatic door?”

Izuku flushes. That’s a downside he’s found to the whole “dead” thing. Some things don’t work the same for him anymore. Anything electronic that is supposed to sense a presence doesn’t apply for him anymore—sensors especially, like the ones in automatic, sliding doors. Hitoshi had even stepped back and watched Izuku attempt it a few times before finally relenting, the bastard.

He laughed! At poor Izuku’s suffering!

“No, they were definitely recognizing you.” Izuku replies, though a few of them were likely to have been confused by that whole situation. He takes a sip of the water he’d bought.

For a moment, they’re silent together, walking back down the path they’d traveled many times before to Hitoshi’s apartment. Izuku had told his mom he’d be catching the train pretty soon, and while he didn’t technically have to catch the train anymore, it was nice to still use it sometimes. Simplicity and ease, perhaps? Or maybe less energy spent flying back and forth? Or both, really.

But the moment of silence is broken up by a noise.

Izuku hiccups, and he feels the puff of air escape from his lips.

Oh no.

Hitoshi hadn’t noticed, luckily; glanced away at one of the stores they’d passed for a second.

“Hitoshi—” Is all Izuku can get out before he feels something invisible slam into him and take him down into the ground.

It’s disorienting, being flung through the ground like this. Of course, Izuku’s traveled through the ground before during his vigilante escapades. It’s an easy way to get from one place to another. But he doesn’t do it that often—even though he doesn’t feel a thing when he’s doing it, it still feels cramped. Claustrophobic. He only ever tries to do it in short spurts, when he knows where he’ll jump out at the other person and not end up half-phased into a wall again.

But being flung into the ground and pulled with the mysterious force—a ghost, no doubt, by his weird hiccups—is disorienting and terrifying. It feels like they’re flying through there for hours, and he can’t even get a good look at his attacker, the dirt and concrete and stone flying by fast enough to make him dizzy.

And then it stops.

They soar up from the ground. First, through the water, which Izuku chokes on a bit of saltwater, and then into the air above the ocean. His attacker flings him up, and in the moment where Izuku stops going up and starts free-fall, he lets himself transform into his ghost half, clenching his fists and glancing down at his attacker as gravity lets go of its hold on him.

“Hey, what the heck was that?!”

“A test.” The ghost says. She’s pretty small—close to Izuku’s size—but looks like she’s in her twenties, at most. White hair like his is pulled back into a ponytail, wisping out into the air. She’s wearing a monochromatic outfit of stark black jeans, complimented with a black tank-top and a white cropped jacket. A large and heavy object hangs from a chain around her neck. Her eyes are a vibrant green, the color of ectoplasm, and they narrow at Izuku. “Your reaction time sucks.”

“Wh—” Before Izuku can even start another question, the ghost girl raises one hand and shoots out a quick and fast blast of ectoplasm right to Izuku. He’s barely able to dodge it. “Hey!”

“Okay, that was a little better. Still sucks though.” She disappears completely on Izuku, before reappearing behind him and shooting at him again.

Izuku doesn’t dodge this one fast enough, and he feels it graze his arm. A little annoyed at this situation, he twists quickly in the air before firing off the strongest ectoplasmic blast back. It’s not something he likes to practice a lot, because he’s fighting humans, after all, and the accidental damage he’s seen it done just to buildings and stone makes him think that it would really, really hurt a human.

The ghost girl doesn’t look impressed, summoning up a shield in front of her to bounce the blast back off. “Lame.” She fires off three blasts in quick succession. Izuku dodges two of the three, and the third one strikes him in his other arm, and he can feel the sizzle of the ectoplasmic energy hitting his skin. It burns, but it’s not the worst pain in the world.

“C’mon, kid! Give me everything you’ve got!”

Izuku tries to fire back, but the ghost girl easily dodges it, instead, twisting around him and throwing a good old fashioned jab to the stomach. This one Izuku dodges easily, used to the physical attacks from the wannabe villains and thugs he often fights.

He doesn’t know how long they fight mid-air. It’s a trade of punches, kicks, and jabs from Izuku; fiery hot ectoplasmic blasts and jabs from the girl. Izuku starts using his own shields to reflect attacks, giving up on trying to shoot her on his own (since it seems to not work at all). Eventually, the anger threatening to bubble in Izuku’s core subsides as the sun starts to sink closer into the horizon, and he’s covered in a thin layer of sweat.

He didn’t even know ghosts could sweat. Or that he could in his ghost form. Weird!

They don’t quite draw to a standstill. The ghost girl draws back, crossing her arms, floating a few feet above him, mid-air.

She smirks, showing off her fangs. “You’re pretty good at close combat. It’s when you have to rely on long-distance attacks where you suck ass.”

Izuku blinks at her. “Uh. What?”

“Hello, test? I’m testing you? C’mon, you’re not that dense, are you, kid? Or should I say… Phantom?” The ghost girl snickers.

Izuku clenches his fists again. He’s low on power—and time, he’s got a curfew and Hitoshi is probably worried sick since Izuku had literally just up and vanished on him—and doesn’t have much more fight in him. Not even for a quick patrol tonight, but the nights of the Sports Festival are usually quite quiet in Musutafu due to the high hero presence, and most heroes stay the night in the city and leave in the morning. He should be able to at least get himself home.

“Who are you, anyway?”

The ghost girl looks at him. Her skin is already pale, but Izuku swears it goes paler.

“Oh, Ancients, I forgot to introduce myself, didn’t I?” She asks herself. “Damn it! I said I would do this properly, but I finally found you and I got so excited and I just jumped into it—” She sighs. “Sorry. I should have introduced myself properly. Hi! I’m Ellie Myling! Nice to meet you, Phantom! Or do you prefer Midoriya Izuku?” She stretches her hand out—a very American greeting, though her Japanese sounds perfect. It’s hard to tell with ghosts (but, granted, Izuku’s only ever met Amorpho before).

Izuku freezes. “Wh—how do you know…”

“Your name? Uh, you’re kinda the talk of the ‘Zone right now.” Ellie says. “Though, I don’t think many ghosts know your living name. I could just keep it to Phantom, if that’s what your comfortable with?”

“I…” Izuku trails off, still a little in shock that this random ghost who had attacked him out of nowhere just suddenly knows his name. Does she know his address, too? Is he going to have to convince his mom to move (somehow) or worse, run away from home so she doesn’t get hurt?

“…I’ll just keep it to Phantom. Okay.” Ellie says. “Anyway. Sorry for not introducing myself. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. You need to work on having more long-distance attacks. Your aim is pretty okay with your ectoplasmic energy blasts, but your power and speed are abysmal. Do you even practice with that?”

Izuku blinks at her.

He’s so done with this already.

“I’m going home.” The coastline of Japan is barely visible in the distance. Or, at least, Izuku hopes it’s Japan. Since they were intangible in the water, at least his phone made it through alright, so he could GPS himself back home if he needs to. Izuku drops a bit, before flying to the closest land mass he could see.

“Wait—hey!” Ellie flies after him. “Look, I’m sorry for not introducing myself earlier, yeah? I just got really, really excited… And I guess I could’ve explained the whole attacking thing, too, huh?”

“Maybe you should have,” Izuku replies, stopping.

“Right, right. Hold on.” She reaches into her pockets, before pulling out a small notepad. Ellie snaps, and a pen manifests out of nowhere. She scribbles something onto the paper. “I’ll be in Japan for a while. This is the hotel room I’m staying in. Room 250B. Right on the end. Meet me there tomorrow night, and I can try my best to explain things better then.” She passes it over to him.

It's a hotel in Musutafu, which is nice, since it’s so close. “Why does a ghost need a hotel room?” He asks.

“I hate to break it to you, but you have to sleep, even when you’re dead.” Ellie says, with a bit of a chuckle. “If you don’t wanna talk to me now, that’s fine, I know I messed up by not explaining things, but maybe give me a second chance, yeah? It seems like Amorpho didn’t explain a lot to you when they were here.”

And just like that, the mystery ghost girl Ellie vanishes, leaving Izuku floating above the ocean by his lonesome.

Chapter Text

Aoki Tamashi (9 June 2123 - 24 August 2202) was a Japanese philanthropist, civil rights activist, writer, and journalist. He was notably known for his support of Meta Civil Rights movements at the start of the Modern Quirk Era.

Born the only son of the wealthy Aoki family, Tamashi travelled the world at least seventeen times before he turned sixteen, according to the many memoirs he published when he was older. On those travels, Tamashi collected many items, including artworks, original writing, and artifacts from pre-Quirk history and Meta Rights Activists.

-- “About the Exhibit”, from the webpage of the Musutafu Pre-Quirk History Museum

✨👻✨

CATNYAP
r u gonna do it?

MINIGHOST
I think I might? But I’m not too sure

CATNYAP
yeah go talk to the girl who kidnapped you and then beat you up for an hour. sure that’ll go well

MINIGHOST
Okay, look, she didn’t beat me up. Technically. I just got shot at for a bit.

CATNYAP
those bruises say otherwise

MINIGHOST
And those bruises are already gone!

MINIGHOST
But, like, despite the way that she acted, Ellie wasn’t really that actively hostile. And she apologized!

MINIGHOST
I haven’t had a ghost offer to help me since Amorpho, Hitoshi. I’m learning all this stuff on my own, right now. You’ve got heroes teaching you to be a hero. Why shouldn’t I at least try to hear her out?

CATNYAP
alright. your funeral

MINIGHOST
If I don’t reply to you by tomorrow, please call the police.

✨👻✨

“Ah! Hello there, young man. Welcome to Hotel Taiyo. What room are you delivering to today?”

Izuku freezes when the receptionist’s eyes meet his. He hadn’t been expecting to be, well, noticed this easily. He usually blends in with crowds around him.

Then again, Izuku had tried for a good few minutes to get into the building when the automatic doors wouldn’t work on him. And he obviously didn’t want to be caught on camera using one of his very well recognizable ghost powers especially in his human form, so he had to eventually wait for a group of American tourists to activate the door for him to slip in.

“Ah, I’m not delivering. Uh—” His mind races through possibilities, before he stutters out, “I’m here to meet, um, meet my aunt.”

The woman looks at him, eyes narrowed, but she nods. “Alright. Do you know what room you’re looking for?”

Izuku nods, and shows her the piece of paper with Ellie’s room number written down on it. The lady nods, before picking up the phone, looking at something on the screen quickly, and dialing a number. He can hear it ring a few minutes on the other end before it finally connects.

“Good evening, Fenton-san. I have a young man here saying that he’s your nephew, and here to meet you?” The receptionist pauses, listening to some sort of response. Izuku can’t quite make it out.

He didn’t even talk to Ellie before—and well, this could’ve been easier just sneaking in as a ghost, but Izuku was a little paranoid about things. He was just hoping to slip in. What if she doesn’t get the memo? What if—

 “Yes, yes. Of course. I will send him on up. Have a wonderful evening.” 

Izuku holds in a sigh of relief as the receptionist hangs up. “Alright, your…” She hesitates, doubtful of the entire story, looking Izuku up and down. “… Your aunt is waiting for you. Go on up.”

He nods, muttering a quick thanks before all but bolting to the elevator. She’s only on the second floor, so his ride with a random strange-smelling man wasn’t all that awful. Izuku gets off his stop, and the man continues on up, to engrossed in his phone.

Izuku hadn’t really ever been to a hotel before. Not that his mom didn’t try to take him places when he was younger for fun—she and Bakugou’s mom would try and take them out when they were really little, before Quirks got between them, on fun trips. Back when his mom wasn’t as financially stressed as she is now, back when things seemed to be going right for the Midoriya family. But those were day trips. They never ventured too far from Musutafu, trips that could be completed in a single day instead of multiple. The only time he’d really stepped in a hotel was a school trip when they were still in primary school, and Izuku didn’t even spend the night there. They’d gone to that hotel just to use the fancy meeting rooms for something that Izuku can’t really remember. Something academia related.

So, this is his first time really in a hotel. He scans the paper again, looking over the chicken-scratch of handwriting that Ellie had given him, before following the numbers along the hallway. It’s quiet. Uncomfortably quiet, but it is late. Most people are probably asleep, or winding down for the day, or perhaps out on the town drinking. Whatever adults do in their freetime.

The hallways are long, too. It’s a little uncanny. The walls and carpet on the floor are the same color, or within similar shades, and they seem to stretch on into infinity. He can see a window at the end of a hallway, but is it really a window, or just more hallway? There’s a haunting air to a hotel, and Izuku isn’t quite sure he likes it.

Eventually, he finds room 250B. B, because they’re on the left side of the building, or something? Izuku isn’t sure. But he knows it’s the right room, because before he can lift his hand to awkwardly knock, he hiccups, and a small cloud escapes from him and drifts into the air.

Well. Hopefully I don’t die fully.

Izuku knocks.

A beat of silence. And then—

“I’m coming, I’m coming—” There’s stumbling on the side of the door, and a lock clicks. And a young woman in her twenties opens the door.

Her skin is dark, but smooth with very little imperfections. Long dark hair is pulled out of her face with a high ponytail, accentuating the shaved undercut underneath. Two blue eyes blink at Izuku. Her face looks familiar, almost like the face of the ghost who’d attacked him the day previous, but there’s no way, right?

Izuku quickly stumbles over his words, feeling his face flush bright. “Oh, um, I’m sorry, ma’am, I think, uh, I think I might have gotten the wrong room—”

The woman smiles at him, baring her teeth. They’re sharp, just like—huh?

The woman laughs, too. “Midoriya? No, it’s me. Sorry.” It sounds just like Ellie, but this woman is human, which makes no sense—

Wait.

Izuku blinks. “What?”

“Long story. Come in, yeah?” Ellie motions him into the hotel room, and Izuku suddenly becomes very aware of the situation he’s just put himself in. Going to a random young woman’s hotel room, late at night, lying and saying she’s his aunt. No wonder the receptionist gave him that weird look and called Ellie. Ugh, god, Izuku doesn’t really think about this stuff until he’s faced with this situation.

“Or, not. But it’s not exactly a conversation we wanna have in the hallway, yeah?”

He blinks, snapping himself out of his thoughts. “S-Sorry. Um.” He nervously steps into the room.

It’s a nice hotel room. One of the largest beds Izuku has ever seen, accented with a shimmer of gold (probably fake) on the headboard. White sheets and the duvet cover are sprawled out chaotically, though. A few empty bottles sit on the nightstand to the left. The one on the right has the hotel phone on it, along with a few crumbled-up snack bags. There’s a pile of clothes in one corner of the room, and an open suitcase in the other.

…Why does a ghost need a suitcase?

“You probably have a lot of questions, yeah?” Ellie asks and she jumps up into the air. Gravity lets go of her for a moment, and she floats over to the edge of the bed.

“Y-You could say that.”

“Well, for starters, let’s get the obvious out of the way.” She says. “Yes, it’s still me. This is my human form.”

Human form? Like—

“My existence is… complicated. I function like a halfa would, except I’m not technically a halfa? To be one, you have to have been born alive to begin with, and I was actually made a clone of the first ever halfa.” She explains. Two white rings appear at her midsection and transform her swiftly into the ghost he had been attacked by the day before. “Most ghosts call me a Neverborn, because I was never born. Ghost aren’t really creative with names.”

Izuku nods, mentally noting that down for later. He takes a second, before speaking up and asking the question he’s been dying (not literally) to have an answer for. “Why… Why did you attack me?”

“I was a little hopeful Amorpho would’ve explained it to you when they were here, but Amorpho’s not strong enough to be out of the realms for that long. So, here’s the thing about ghosts. Ghosts tend to brawl a lot, to get to know each other, or just to have fun. It’s like—uh, I don’t know what an equivalent would be. Going out to coffee, or something?” Ellie muses. “Anyway. It’s hard to explain. But I attacked you because I wanted to get to know you. You are, after all, the new champion, and I kinda didn’t even think in that moment.”

That’s strange. Wait. “Champion?”

Ellie nods. “Yeah, did—okay, so what did Amorpho explain to you, exactly?”

Not a lot. They were limited on time. There’s a little twinge in his core, thinking about his first ghostly mentor, and wondering what they were up to now, but he pushes it aside. “A lot of training on my powers, so I don’t accidentally reveal myself. They also tried to help me transform… mostly by dropping refrigerators on me.”

Ellie laughs, as if the peril of having a nearly 300 pound kitchen appliance being dropped on you randomly is the funniest thing in the world. Maybe in hindsight, trying to put Izuku in danger so he had no choice but to transform was the best Amorpho could do with limited time, but still. At least Izuku knew he was pretty good at dodging hits by then.

“Okay, anything else?”

“Some stuff about the Ghost Zone and the Realms. That’s kinda it.”

“Wow. Amorpho didn’t teach you a lot, did they?” Ellie asks, though it doesn’t feel like it’s a question directed specifically at Izuku. “Wanna fly and chat?”

Izuku hesitates, before nodding. Flying in the sky would be preferrable to sitting in a random stranger’s hotel room. He transforms, not as fast as Ellie, and they both fly through the open hotel window and into the night sky.

✨👻✨

“What’s the champion?”

Ellie stops. She hadn’t expected to have to explain this to Midoriya. Or, Phantom. Perhaps she should stick with this name in his ghost form. She’d hoped Amorpho did the job. But that’s wishful thinking. That trickster probably spent a few days causing some irrelevant chaos and mayhem before actually looking for Midoriya like they’d been asked to. “The Champion of Balance is a being whose existence is necessary for the stability of the timeline and of the entire Infinite Realms.”

Phantom stops, too. His already pale face looks like it pales a little more. “Oh.”

“No pressure, though! You literally have, like, your whole life and afterlife with the title. However long either of those are.” It does sound like a lot—the Champion of Balance. The Chosen One, picked out by the Infinite Realms Herself, to keep not just the Alpha Timeline stable, but every other timeline as well. But in all her time as Clockwork’s apprentice, most of the lecture the Ancient had given her— it didn’t seem like a lot at all. “Mostly, it’s acting as a peacekeeper and a hero. And I think you’re already doing a pretty good job at that, Phantom.”

The kid’s pale face turns a few shades green from the praise. He’d shed the mask shortly after they took to the sky. After all, what’s the point in hiding his identity, when every ghost in a twenty mile radius would know who he is, no matter the form he’s in? It’s a miracle that Danny had kept his identity a secret for so long.

“You’re like—you’re like a fulcrum. You have a very important role, you help keep the balance of the Living Realms and the Infinite Realms. You’re lucky, right now things have been pretty peaceful in the Realms with the council and stuff, so you probably don’t have to worry about that part until, I dunno, a war breaks out or something.”

“W-War?!” Midoriya’s voice cracks, and his blazing cyan eyes flicker with anxiety.

She nervously waves her hands in the air. “Hey! No worries, Phantom. You’re not alone as the Champion. There’s a whole lot of ghosts who would readily support you with anything. You might be what everything kinda balances on, but you’re not alone with that. Sorry. It’s stuff you probably won’t have to worry about for a while. Maybe we should change the subject?”

“Maybe.” Phantom says, floating a little over her. “So, what are your powers?”

“My powers?” Ellie smirks. “Why are you asking, kid?”

“I—I don’t know how strong I am, and I know you said you aren’t really a halfa, but you’re the only comparison I have. So, I was thinking, if you show me what you can do, then maybe it can help me figure out my own power limits and—” The kid’s muttering up a storm. He’s not even stopping to breathe. Not that he needs to, of course. But, still. Ellie’s impressed.

“Alright, alright.” Ellie finally winds him down, but she can’t help the smirk that crosses her face. “How about a practical presentation?”

✨👻✨

MYSTERIOUS LIGHTS OVER THE OCEAN – A SIGN OF THE END-TIMES, OR A STRANGE QUIRK ACTIVATION?

BY SHINSOU JUN

On the night of XX XY, many reports were called in to the news station regarding a strange light phenomenon occurring over the Pacific just outside the city of Musutafu, Japan--

“What are you listening to, master?”

Ah. It seems that Tomura has come to visit him again. He smiles, softly, feeling the presence of the boy in the distance, and turns down the volume on the audio player.

“Just an interesting article, Tomura.” He says. “It is fun to pay attention to the news, sometimes. How has your newest project been going?”

“It’s stupid! The U.A. Sports Festival was supposed to be live on television this year, but they changed it last minute! What a bunch of cowardly scrubs.” Tomura huffs, angrily. There’s the sound of a chair squeaking on the concrete floor, and a flop indicates to him that Tomura has dropped himself onto the chair. “Some of it is obvious, and we can get some other things from public records, but it’s so much grinding, it’s annoying.”

“Grinding is what you need to do to get to a higher level, though, isn’t it?”

“Well. Yeah. But it’s not fun, grinding.”

“What’s fun, then?”

“Beating up the biggest enemy you can find and reaping all the EXP for yourself in one fight.” Tomura explains. “It’s what killing All Might was meant to do, but that stupid—cheater—got in the way.”

Ah, yes. The cheater, as Tomura refers to him. Or, as the world sees him, Phantom. The Musutafu Phantom. Vigilantes don’t tend to appear much on his radar until they defect from the side of “good”; or, when they see what the world is really like, and defer to the side for the people, not the institution. It’s unfortunate that most vigilantes die shortly after that.

But Phantom is an interesting case. There’s not much more known about the vigilante other than what’s in private police reports and articles that the public can access. The main hero handling his case—Eraserhead, of course, how he wished he hadn’t missed grabbing that man when he was a boy instead of the Shirakumo boy—was surprisingly sparse in his details regarding his interactions with the vigilante. But from what they can gleam, he’s got a powerful Quirk.

…

Or is it?

“Tomura, my boy.” He interrupts Tomura’s rant about grinding, or Phantom, or whatever it was. He doesn’t really care. “How has the transcribing gone for the journal Sakura had so kindly retrieved for us?”

“Uh. Almost done.” Scratch scratch. The downside of obtaining an enhanced hearing Quirk so many years ago is when all of his other senses are dulled, the hearing is stronger and much more noticeable. He can hear the scratch of Tomura’s nails against his dry skin. The sound of breathing in another room. “I still think we should get Kurogiri to record it for you.”

“Your voice will do splendid, Tomura. You should have more faith in your oral skills, especially if you wish to take over when I am gone.” He says, trying to sprinkle in little seeds of encouragement in his young protégé.

“Whatever. It’s a weird journal. Just a bunch of weird stuff about ghosts, or whatever. Why’d you even ask Sakura to get that, anyway?”

“It may surprise you what knowledge may come in handy one day, Tomura. That’s why you should spend your time learning as much as you can.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” The nonchalant attitude isn’t the worst that he’d gotten from Tomura, at least. So he would let it slide, for now. Allow Tomura to go back to his “grinding”, and he would lay in wait for the day that Phantom would one day be before him.

Quirk or not, the vigilante is very, very, interesting.

Chapter Text

“That is all for today. Oh, and Shinsou, All Might would like to meet with you in Conference Room 2.”

Aizawa-sensei is interesting for a homeroom teacher; doubly so for an Ethics teacher. It’s definitely the subject that he could see the pro-hero teaching. The lectures are pretty interesting, too, though it does look like a few of his classmates had dozed off near the end of it.

(Notably, they have been a little duller than before. Aizawa-sensei’s under eyebags also looked darker than before. Probably just a case though, right? Nothing unusual.)

But, wait-- All Might wants to see him, of all the students in the class? Why Hitoshi? It's not like he's the best in the class. He's pretty middle ground, rounded up a bit with his grades in English and Literature. He's not the strongest, but with Aizawa-sensei’s extra training before the entrance exam, he's not the weakest, either.

He is, as Kaminari would say, mid. Which has a more negative connotation and Hitoshi pointed that out to the blond when he said that, and Kaminari tried to backpedal and say well I mean it in a good way!, but it still kind of hurt.

Because he is. He is mid. He is average; painfully so. Unlike his other classmates, he has a mental Quirk. He can't make things float or create objects from the lipids in his body or electrify things. He's just normal, not normal enough to be dangerous to his existence but normal enough that he just stands out. He doesn't stand out much– not that he wants to stand out– so having the number one hero in Japan ask to meet with him personally is… weird.

An anxious thought pops into his head before he can stop it. Did they catch Izuku? Do they know who he is? Am I a suspect? Izuku is strong and powerful as a halfa, but he isn't… Well, Hitoshi wouldn't call him stupid, Izuku is a crazy genius (and emphasis on the crazy) but he's not the most… Aware, socially or spatially.

For being one of the strongest heroes (because he is a hero at this point) Hitoshi knows, whenever they hang out when Izuku is just plain, old, Midoriya Izuku, somehow, he's just as clumsy and clueless as ever. It's like a lever switches when he transforms, but Hitoshi knows that's not true.

Either way, being called to one of the offices to meet with All Might is a little embarrassing. A few of his classmates ooooh at him as soon as the bell rings for the next class. Kaminari asks if he's in trouble, and all Hitoshi does is shrug as they awkwardly break for lunch. Luckily, lunch is pretty long at U.A., providing some of the more studious students time to study or train with their free time, so he isn't worried about missing anything to eat. He does steal a glance towards Iida, who shuffles out of the room silently, and his eyes lock with Uraraka for a second.

The news articles flash in his mind again.

HERO INGENIUM FOUND WOUNDED BY HERO KILLER.

He can’t even imagine what Iida’s going through. There’s been no news on whether or not Ingenium has woken up. Sparse details of being found half-dead in an alleyway by a citizen, wounds obviously from the Hero Killer himself, Stain. A story that Hitoshi hadn’t been that interested in following until he finds it suddenly connected to himself.

The days after the Sports Festival were supposed to be fun, right? Rumor says they’re going to be picking their hero names by the end of the week. Their hero names. And they’re going on a weekend-long internship the next week, too! Things are supposed to be getting better—especially after the USJ Incident—so why do things just feel like they’re starting to crumble?

Hitoshi pushes those thoughts away. You’re catastrophizing, a voice in his head (that sounds eerily like Izuku) reminds him. You’re catastrophizing. Things aren’t falling apart completely. Your friend is going through a rough time. Hopefully you can find a way to support him. Talking didn’t seem to help. Iida dodged any questions about his brother like a professional dodgeball player. Even one-on-one, his friend assured him that he was fine, and that he was lucky, because not many of the Hero Killer’s victims survived to tell the tale. Less about me, now.

He shuffles towards the staff offices and conference rooms. They weren’t rooms typically used by any of the students—or, at least, the first-years. Hitoshi’s pretty sure he’s seen Snipe or Midnight host small lectures in the conference rooms before to upperclassmen on specific techniques or hero training before. Most that Hitoshi would have contact with these offices is if he ever did anything too bad—or comparatively, really good—but he’s not anything, really.

Sure, he got third place in the Sports Festival, but he tied with explosion-boy McGee Bakugou Katsuki who definitely soaked up the spotlight and attention more. Even if he was fuming at being “beat by IcyHot at half his power”, or whatever bullshit nonsense he was on. Shinsou Hitoshi blends into a crowd, and maybe it’s a strength, but it still never feels good enough.

All Might is waiting outside one of the conference rooms, a bright smile on his face. When he spots Shinsou, he waves at him immediately. “Ah! Shinsou Hitoshi! I suppose Aizawa got my message then!”

Hitoshi wonders what kind of texter or email-er All Might is like. Does he type everything in all caps, just like he sounds like he’s always yelling at something, or is it something normal and professional?

“Come in, come in, I would like to discuss something with you!”

Hitoshi stops, right outside the door. He tenses. “Am I in trouble?”

“Trouble? No! You’re not in trouble. As far as I know, at least!” All Might laughs.

It eases his anxiety a bit, but he doesn’t feel a whole lot better about it. Still, it’s enough that he steps into the room and awkwardly sits on the couch opposite All Might. It’s odd, being this close to the Number-One hero in Japan. Well, the official Number-One hero in Japan. Hitoshi thinks that Izuku has what it takes, and Phantom is number-one in his heart, but maybe that’s because Hitoshi’s been actually saved by Phantom before, while All Might has always been this distant paragon, a caricature of a person that Hitoshi doubts is real.

The go-lucky hero façade drops as soon as the door is shut. “Now, Shinsou. What I want to tell you here, I do not wish to leave the room. No blabbing to your classmates, or anyone online about this. It is a secret that I hold very close to me… the truth about my Quirk.”

His… Quirk?

“Many generations ago, at the Dawn of Quirks, a man rose to power in the criminal underworld. His name was… All For One.” 

✨👻✨

“Y’know, Phantom, you’re pretty good at this hero thing!”

“Thanks, I try.” Izuku shrugs, landing on top of the roof.

Eraserhead hasn’t been on patrol for a few days—Izuku’s ignoring the worry slowly eating away at his core—but Ellie has been popping in to help out. Invisibly and out of sight, of course, for anyone but Izuku. She’s still helping him, through training him between muggings and fights. It’s actually been really great so far.

And luckily for Izuku, nothing major has been happening in the criminal underworld, either. There have been a few attempted robberies of the bank that he stopped, and muggings here and there, but nothing huge to report. Not even any Trigger deals on the street.

Ingenium being attacked by the Hero Killer just outside Musutafu might have scared some of the lowest-ranking villains out. Which, while obviously Ingenium being attacked and nearly killed is horrible and Izuku wishes the best in the pro hero’s recover, it’s at least nice to have a few easier nights, even without Ellie’s background help.

“No, I mean it, Phantom.” Ellie floats, cross-legged, over the roof. “You’re good at this. Which is good, it helps your core develop stronger, when you indulge your Obsession.”

“It does?” Izuku asks. “Indulging in an Obsession makes you stronger?”

“Well, it depends on the ghost. It can sometimes cause a small power boost in a Ghost. One might go from a level two to a level three if they indulge their obsession enough, but it could be only temporary if the ghost’s obsession is, like, fishing or something.” Ellie explains. “My obsession has been freedom. The ability to travel where I want and do what I want. I can’t always do it, but I do feel more in my element when I am. But since you’re a halfa, it’s different. It just makes you… I dunno, get stronger faster?”

That’s…

Awesome! Izuku feels his core buzz in excitement. The stronger he is, the more people he can save. Maybe if he saves enough people, the HPSC will see him worthy of a license, and he’ll actually be the hero he’s always dreamed of? Oh, that makes him want to—to---

Ellie yawns, interrupting Izuku’s thoughts. “Sorry. I’m exhausted. I ran around Harajuku all day today and I’m beat. Same time tomorrow?”

“It’s my day off patrol tomorrow.” Izuku says. He needs sleep, too—he’s been running on a little less, and if Eraserhead pops out on patrol again and sees Izuku running off fumes for the second time, Izuku’s pretty sure Eraserhead would find a way to arrest him on the spot. Maybe do a salt circle, or use iron, or whatever weaknesses ghosts are supposed to have. “Night after next?”

“That works! See you then, Phantom. Ellie, out!” And just like that—she flickers out of existence. Whether she disappears and flies away invisibly or can teleport, Izuku can’t figure it out. And he hasn’t been able to ask yet. No matter—it seems like Ellie is able to stay in the human world a lot longer than Amorpho was ever able to, so he’s sure he’ll be stumbling into her again soon.

He stands on the top of that roof for a moment longer, staring upward. He remembers when the stars weren’t as visible in the night sky—but it seems like everything has gotten a lot brighter and louder for him since his death, and the stars are more radiant than ever. It’s transfixing for a moment—he had never considered how small humans truly were. Many space programs were abandoned a long, long time ago during the dawn of Quirks.

After all—why would they need to venture out there, when there were fantastic and extraordinary things happening on their own planet?

The thoughts wander a bit more, and he finds himself sitting on the edge of the building. He should really head home soon—the streets have been pretty quiet all night—but he doesn’t really want to.

Sure, there’s always the possibility that his mom wakes up suddenly and gets the urge to check in on him, but that’s rather unlikely given how deep of a sleeper she is.

So, he can spare a few extra moments by himself, surely—

Except, suddenly, something whizzes by Izuku’s ear. He flinches, turning his upper half intangible nearly on instinct, and jumps to his feet, glancing behind him to see what it was that nearly hit him.

A feather, ruby in color, is lodged in the concrete of the rooftop right next to him. Deep, too—something strong and forceful. What kind of Quirk…?

Izuku feels his stomach drop. He recognizes the feather. It doesn’t take a genius to, really—there aren’t many people with wing Quirks around, less so in heroics, so that means—

“Hey there, Phantom!” The number four hero lands behind to him quietly. Izuku doesn’t even need to turn around to recognize Hawks’ voice, though it is wild hearing it in person and not over a recording. There’s a higher pitch to it than he expected. “Mind sparing a few minutes to chat?”

Izuku turns on his heel—sure enough, it is the Hawks, not some sort of duplicate or illusion. He glances around, stopping his (voluntary) breathing to see if he can hear any other chatter or people nearby, but it’s a quiet night still. It’s only Izuku and Hawks up on the top of this building, only ones awake, at least. Despite the fact that Hawks is clearly dressed up in most of his hero costume, there’s a causality to it. Not everything is prim and proper, like it is on TV or in the papers. His hair is a little more wind-swept and ruffled, the earmuffs are around his neck, his glasses are pushed up, and his wings are tucked neatly behind him.

“Chat?” Izuku echoes. He stays where he’s standing, but he digs his feet into the ground a bit more. Ready to pounce—not towards Hawks, but ready to flee, more or less. The last thing Izuku wants on his heel is one of the top ten pro-heroes. Eraserhead was good and enough for him, thank you very much. “About what?”

Hawks shrugs. “I dunno. You’re pretty new to the hero thing, yeah?”

“I… Yeah.” He pauses. “But I don’t think most people see me as a hero.”

“You’ve saved lives. That’s being a hero in my book, at least.” He flaps his wings, but not in a predatory sort of way—a bit more playful and mischievous, if Izuku could really understand bird language. “You’re doing pretty good, too, for just a vigilante with little training.”

“I—Thanks? I guess?” Izuku hesitates, but takes a step forward. “What is this all about? Trying to talk me out of being a vigilante? No offense, Hawks, but you wouldn’t be the first to try this.”

“Who said I was trying to talk you out of things?” Hawks’ smile seems… genuine enough. There’s a bit of an unsettling feeling in Izuku’s core. He can’t quite make out what it is, nor what Hawks is trying to push forward here, either. “In fact—don’t tell anyone I’m telling you this, yeah?—I think you’re doing better work than most heroes out there.”

Izuku blanks. He feels like his brain bluescreens for a second. “What?”

Hawks laughs. When he does, his wings flap a bit more with his breaths. “Well, most of us heroes? We can’t be bothered cleaning up the shit in-between the cracks. We take on the big things. The villains who want world domination, who want to kill and injure as many people as possible, the ones that want to send a message.” He points a finger towards Izuku. “But you guys? You vigilantes? You’re the ones doing the grunt work. You’re trying to keep the streets safer, and you’re doing it for no pay, no benefits, and it’s technically a crime, too. I think that’s more respectful than what the lot of us professionals do.”

Oh. Oh. Izuku isn’t quite sure if he should take it as a compliment. But it’s charming, the way it’s said—maybe it’s Hawks’ voice, or maybe it’s just his attitude, but what sounds like it might be an insult has somehow turned into something that makes Izuku’s core buzz with happiness, and whatnot?

“Um. Thanks.”

“Of course, Phantom. I mean it, I really do.” He shuffles a little closer, across the rooftop. “If you ever need anyone to talk about hero stuff, you can always come to me.”

“And you won’t turn me in?”

“Ugh, no. You know how much paperwork that is?” Hawks laughs, again, and Izuku can’t help but nervously join in with a few chuckles of his own. “Anyway. As long as you don’t, like, kill anyone or turn to the dark side anytime soon, you’re good to keep on doing what you’re doing, Phantom. If you ever need any help, just let me know.” He puts one of his hands in his pockets, and pulls out a cell phone. “Here.”

“I don’t have a phone number.” Izuku replies, immediately.

“No. Not for that.” He’s a bit forceful, in taking Izuku’s hand and setting the cellphone in it. It’s a bit older—a flip phone, Izuku has never actually held one before—and it’s heavier than he expects it. “In case you ever need to call me.”

“You’re just—giving me a phone?” Izuku blinks. “How can I be sure it doesn’t have a tracker in it?”

“Trust? I don’t know much about phone stuff.” He digs into one of his pockets again, and Hawks pulls out a receipt that’s about half of Izuku’s height. Izuku recognizes the name of the general store that the phone was bought in, the ones that always print out seventeen million coupons on the end of their paper receipts. “Here, look. Literally just bought and set it up, like, an hour ago.”

Izuku takes the receipt. Sure enough, it was bought not even an hour ago—forty-two minutes, specifically—and it’s just one of those cheap cellphones that doesn’t have much power for anything other than phone calls. Izuku would have to learn how to text using the number pad if he ever wanted to send a text message. There’s no box to it, but Izuku glances over the phone, looking for any obvious signs of tampering or a tracking device on it, but it seems pretty clean.

“Anyway. You don’t have to keep it.” Hawks says, taking the receipt back from Izuku and crumpling it up in his hands. “Just… Think of it as an emergency phone, yeah? If you ever need any help, you know who to call, right?”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” An extra burner phone would be a very good investment, if Izuku wanted to keep up with vigilantism. He could add Eraserhead’s phone number, if he could get it from the hero. Opening it up, it looks like the phone already has Hawks’ contact photo saved, though it takes Izuku a few moments to find it. “Why are you helping me?”

“I like vigilantes. I really do. It sucks when they die. Or turn evil. Either way.” Hawks speaks so candidly. It’s incredible. Izuku wishes he could find that sort of courage and comfort to do that, too, one day. “I’d hate to see that happen to you, Phantom.”

I’d hate to see that happen to you, Phantom. Something about that makes Izuku’s core hum, but he does feel himself bristle under the praise a bit. It’s a nice gesture, but from the number four pro hero, of all people? There’s no way there’s not something ulterior going on, right?

There’s not really anything like that happening with Eraserhead. Well, the underground hero does try to convince Izuku to just turn himself in sometimes. He tries to wring out more information about Izuku, probably in hopes of uncovering Phantom’s true identity, but there’s no way that Eraserhead would be able to connect the dead, glowing ghost called Phantom to the alive, breathing human Midoriya Izuku. Or, at the very least—not for a long, long time. The man doesn’t believe in ghosts, yet he works alongside one almost every other night!

Izuku slides the phone into his pocket. He hasn’t taken any sort of class on mechanics or engineering, but he can definitely take the phone apart and pick it apart in case of a tracker. It wouldn’t be that hard, especially with the aid of a YouTube tutorial. He takes the phone as an offer of good will, for now.

Izuku jumps up into the air, letting go of gravity. “Well, I’ve gotta go find some bad guys to haunt. Thanks for the phone, Hawks.”

“Anytime, Phantom. Maybe we can go flying sometime? I’ve never had anyone to fly with before.”

Fly? With Hawks? Oh, be still my beating heart—Izuku won’t deny the inner fanboy in him nearly just exploded. With a nod and a toothy grin (that unfortunately, Hawks can’t see underneath his mask), Izuku shoots off into the sky, high above the clouds and into the night.

✨👻✨

All For One is an old story.

A long time ago, at the start of the dawn of Quirks, a man was born with the ability to take and give Quirks as he pleased. He deemed himself righteous and morally correct and took from others what was not rightfully his—the story of many men who find themselves with much power. He became a collector of the odd and unusual Quirk, too. Many people began to follow him, for his words and ideas made sense in the chaotic changes of the world.

Except for his younger brother. His younger brother, seemingly powerless, disagreed with what his older brother was trying to do. The world that All For One wanted to make. But the younger brother was sickly, and he had always been, since birth. Maybe All For One had been too greedy in the womb, too.

But All For One didn’t care about his younger brother’s opinions, especially since his younger brother had no say in the fight, being powerless as he was. Having pity on his younger brother, All For One gave him a Quirk that he had collected—one that allowed the user to stockpile power. Not a particularly useful one. All For One had no use for it, and didn’t care to keep it. Giving it to his younger brother was more like giving a young child trash to play with; not something he particularly cared about.

But what All For One didn’t know, is that the younger brother did have a Quirk. One that allowed its user to transfer itself to someone else. The Stockpile Quirk and the Transfer Quirk merged together in the younger brother’s body, and became a new Quirk, one later called…

...One For All...

"...And young Shinsou, this is the power I wish to give to you."

It’s 1 AM. Izuku is still most likely out on patrol, and from the sounds of it, had a pretty busy day, training with that ghost lady. Not something Hitoshi wants to interrupt.

Hitoshi isn’t jealous. He would never say that. Well, maybe a little jealous but he would never say it aloud because Izuku is a dear friend to him, and he doesn’t want to cause problems in his friendship with Izuku. Maybe he doesn’t trust the random ghost lady who attacked Izuku, but he also doesn’t understand ghost stuff. Izuku said it was a way ghosts just interacted, brawling and sparring, so maybe it was a social thing he just couldn’t understand as a human?

But damn it. He needs to talk to someone. All Might said to keep everything he’d told Hitoshi a secret, but—he doesn’t know what to do. The number-one hero in all of Japan just offered him something extraordinary. A Quirk, that can transfer from one to another, and all the power that came with it. The strength.

Hitoshi had wanted to be underground. His Quirk isn’t suited for daytime heroics, after all—if he was in the limelight, the villains would know his Quirk, and then it wouldn’t work.

But, on the other hand—being offered immense power and strength and training from the number-one hero? It’s an opportunity that he can’t pass up. Especially since then he’d finally have a physical Quirk, and he’d fit in with all his classmates.

He turns in his bed again. It’s 1:02, according to the digital clock that blinks at him angrily from his nightstand. Hitoshi’s two melatonin gummies haven’t done shit at getting him to sleep yet.

....Another one wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Chapter Text

The steady hum of the heartbeat monitor haunts Shouta’s dreams. It’s not like he hasn’t had experience with this before—he’s not always lucky to get to someone in time on patrol. Some of them are lucky and survive but injured or disabled. Others don’t make it. But those people, those victims—there’s a separation between them and him. They’re people, people Shouta is meant to protect, but they’re still strangers to him.

But this? It makes his stomach flip, looking at the unconscious form of Iida Tensei.

A ventilator is shoved deep down his throat to help him breathe. So many different wires and cords are plugged in around him. He’s deathly pale, too, which doesn’t ease anything. Deathly pale, breathing slow, and barely there—but still, hanging on.

It hurts, knowing the victim before him for once.

Even if they hadn’t been classmates at U.A., Shouta would probably still have visited Tensei once or twice in the hospital, if things turned out the same. Tensei’s younger brother, Tenya, is, after all, one of Shouta’s students. He’s responsible for the youngr Iida, for at least eight hours a day. It wouldn’t be the same—it wouldn’t hurt the same—but Shouta would still devote whatever time he had to make sure both Iida brothers were okay.

Iida Tenya had just left a few hours ago with his father. This wing of the hospital is particularly quiet and dark—a special section specifically for heroes and their families, in emergencies only. Tensei has already had five surgeries to repair the damages. He’s been out for all of it. He’d fallen under once he’d arrived at Musutafu Private Hospital and hadn’t woken up since.

His vitals, by some miracle, were improving, but his injuries? He might not be able to walk again.

If he even wakes up, Shouta wants to add but buries that deep down. Not every moment needs his brand of dark pessimism.

It’s painful to look at sometimes, but Shouta stomachs it, nonetheless. He and Tensei weren’t the closest out of their rag-tag friend group at U.A. They were friends, of course—mostly of Hizashi, but they hung out a decent amount together. Never really just the two of them, except for class projects and team-building exercises. And even then, Shouta and Tensei had different ambitions for the hero industry—Tensei would carry the family name of Ingenium proudly, while Shouta would stick to the dark streets, where Eraserhead would only be whispered as a ghostly threat.

Tensei wanted to do good, to make a name for himself. And, well—he did do good, and he had a decent name to him, but--

The Hero Killer. Stain.

Most of his victims weren’t good. Of course, they were heroes—they all did good deeds, protected people, saved the day, as heroes do—but they weren’t good people. Something had corrupted. Embezzlement, fraud, and even sexual assault on an intern. They deserved punishment for their misdeeds, justice for their victims, not a brutal death at the hands of a vigilante gone rouge.

Why Tensei? Tensei is a good man. There’s no way that anything wrong could have been happening at the Team Idaten agency—right?

Serial killers—which is what Stain is at this point—have a pattern. A type of victim, a favored method, something that repeats in each crime. Unless there’s something dark about Shouta’s friend, then Tensei is a break in the pattern. Not to mention, Tensei was attacked in the middle of the day, in Musutafu, during a time where the most heroes were attending the Sports Festival at U.A. A risky attack, a risky play…

Shouta pinches the bridge of his nose. He’d offered his assistance in this case—the Stain case—because, yet again, Shouta can’t not get himself involved somehow. It was a great asset for heroics. It was something he hoped his students would learn, in moderation. When to be nosy, when to not be nosy. An important hero trait. But it can be a little bit of an issue when Shouta has the mystery of Phantom, the League of Villains, and now the Hero Killer on his plate while also juggling regular patrol and being a teacher.

…Well, he knew it wouldn’t be an easy life, when he chose it.

Still. The Hero Killer broke the pattern, and Shouta can’t figure out why. Unfortunately, the best clue to why was currently unconscious in front of him with a ventilator down his throat.

“Wake up soon, please.” Shouta mutters to himself, flipping through the reports he’d brought with him. All sightings of the Hero Killer, mostly in and out of Hosu, but a few in Musutafu. Internships are coming up for his students, and he’s not doubting a few of the more troublesome children will get involved. Both the ones in his class, and the one outside of it.

✨👻✨

Everyone is still living off the high of the Sports Festival a few days later. Hitoshi isn’t surprised—most of his classmates have been recognized by strangers, out on the street. Not just for being the notorious Class 1-A, the students that were attacked on a field trip. This time, for things they actually did in the Sports Festival, their Quirks, their strengths.

He hadn’t been recognized much after the first day. Hitoshi’s glad for that, especially so that since the event wasn’t broadcast live, nobody knew what his Quirk was. It was a secret, still.

He shuffles into U.A. on a particularly rainy day, shaking his umbrella outside to dry before dropping it in the cubby. Everything is finally starting to settle down, at least, for the most part. Hitoshi’s brain is still swimming from the offer he’d gotten a few days ago from All Might.

"...And young Shinsou, this is the power I wish to give to you."

He still hadn’t decided. All Might said he could take all the time he needed. But clearly, if the time limit on All Might’s ability to do anything before shrinking into a skinny twig of a man who coughs up blood every few minutes is saying something, it’s saying he really doesn’t have all the time he can to decide. Hitoshi doesn’t have to say yes. He could still do his original plan, just like he’d dreamed of. Use his mental Quirk and become an underground hero, just like Aizawa-sensei.

But… He can’t deny there’s a temptation there, of power. More than Hitoshi could ever imagine. The Number-One Hero had his eyes on Hitoshi, now. What else could he say? What else could he do?

Hitoshi wishes he could talk to Izuku about it, but it isn’t Hitoshi’s secret to spill. Not yet, at least—if Hitoshi does take it. He doesn’t know about anyone with two quirks. He’s pretty sure it’s impossible. Todoroki might seem to have two quirks, but it’s a mutation in his body that allows for the control of ice and fire on different sides. Two aspects of the same Quirk.

Would Brainwashing and One For All even work together? Or would something bad happen to him? All Might assured him that nothing would happen. Previous holders of One For All had Quirks, too. All Might was the only Quirkless one (and to think about that—the number one hero in Japan, born Quirkless! Oh, if only Izuku could know…) in its existence. It could just buff Brainwashing completely. Hitoshi might not even need a verbal response to it.

The power. It’s tempting. It’d be a big break on Hitoshi—finally make things easier for him, instead of the Sisyphean struggle of trying to be a hero with a non-physical Quirk. But, still. So many things to think about.

“Hi, Shinsou!” Uraraka greets him at the front door to their classroom. She’s big on that—greeting people as they enter. She told him, once, she does it so everyone feels welcome. There’s only two students she doesn’t greet in the morning. Mineta, obviously. And Iida, since Iida is always there before her. “Hey, can I ask you a question about the math homework?”

And that’s how it usually goes, in the boring mornings in Class 1-A. They chatter amongst themselves until Aizawa-sensei arrives. He has a few announcements and then sleeps for the rest of their homeroom block, which mostly turns into a tiny study hall. And then their classes start for the day. It’s a nice routine, which is weird when it’s broken up by Aizawa-sensei walking into the room without a sleeping bag with Midnight-sensei not too far behind.

“Quiet down.” Aizawa-sensei says, as everyone jumps into their seats. “We’re having a special hero class today.”

Special? All Might was nowhere in sight. Of course, it could just be a lecture from Aizawa-sensei about something. A pop quiz? Another Quirk test? But Midnight-sensei was there. So, what could it mean?

 “That’s right, kids!” Midnight-sensei says, and winks. “You’ll have a big task ahead of you this morning~!”

Aizawa-sensei looks over at Midnight with a dead look on his face, before turning back to the class. “Hero names. Today, you will be choosing your hero names, in order to prepare for your upcoming internships.”

Oh. Hitoshi lets out a small sigh of relief. Nothing too big. Well, it was something big, as most heroes stuck with the name they choose in high school. But it wasn’t something Hitoshi had forgotten to study for, or anything.

It was a little exciting, too—his classmates cheered, relieved that there wasn’t a pop-quiz to deal with or any more scary Quirk tests that threatened expulsion. Something somewhat normal, and somewhat exciting, too.

The internships had been dropped on them last-minute before dismissal the day before. Because of what Class 1-A (and some of Class 1-B, too) had shown off, in both the Sports Festival and the USJ Incident, many pro heroes were curious and interested in the students already. Internship offers weren’t usually sent out to first-year students without approval from Nedzu, but it seemed like the principal was interested in starting a tiny internship program. A full weekend—Friday, Saturday, and Sunday—that was less of an internship and more of a job shadowing opportunity. Many of Hitoshi’s classmates had gotten requests and offers from big pro hero agencies already.

Hitoshi hadn’t done too bad himself, with sixteen offers. But he was on the lower end of that. Which made sense—his Quirk wasn’t all that flashy, and while he did get tied third place, it was tied third place. Not as good as second or first.

“Calm down, kiddos!” Midnight-sensei says, slapping her hand down on Aizawa-sensei’s podium. It gets most of the class to settle back down into their seats. “Now, your dear homeroom teacher here isn’t the best when it comes to names—”

Hitoshi swears he hears Aizawa-sensei mutter something not very nice directed at Midnight.

“—so he’d enlisted me to help you!” She winks again, smirking. “Now, there are a few ground rules before we start this, alright? No swears, no slurs, no stupid names. Obviously. I am the judge, jury, and executioner of your names. We’ll try and keep this lighthearted and fun. If you end up with a stupid name for yourself and get stuck with it for the rest of your life, that’s on you, not me.”

Makes sense.

Aizawa-sensei clears his throat. “When you give yourself a name, you’ll get a more concrete idea of who you want to be in the future. What sort of hero you want to be. What you want to inspire in other people. Consider who you want to be in the future when you do this. It cannot easily be changed later.”

Hitoshi had ideas for what he wanted his hero name to be. Midnight asks for a bit of assistance, and Iida helps pass out whiteboards and markers to his classmates to write their hero name ideas on. The classroom goes quiet for a few moments. The only sound is the scrrrr of dry erase marker on whiteboard as people write, erase bad ideas, and rewrite good ones.

After a good ten minutes or so, Hitoshi feels like he’s satisfied enough with his name choice, but still doesn’t seem too confident.

Midnight-sensei clears her throat.

“Alright! Let’s start presenting some of these names already. Who’s ready?”

Presenting? Hitoshi resists the urge to sink down into his seat. He knows if he tries that, Midnight will call on him first. Well, it might be nice to go first and get the ordeal done and over with, but still.

Luckily, nobody has to be picked off first. In fact, it’s Aoyama who volunteers to go first.

“Here I go! The Shining Hero: I Can Not Stop Twinkling!”

… It’s not a surprising name, knowing Aoyama.

Midnight looks at the sloppy English handwriting on the whiteboard, and scratches at her chin. “It’s a great start, but a little too long, Aoyama-san. How about you erase the I, and shorten the “can not” to just “can’t”?”

The Shining Hero: Can’t Stop Twinkling. It’s still a mouthful. He’d probably just get called Twinkle, or something, which isn’t the worst hero name. It definitely captures Aoyama’s… vibes.

“You’re right, mademoiselle! It still captures my sparkling aura but is slightly easier to say!”

“Perfect! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Can’t Stop Twinkling!”

It actually worked. Holy shit, Hitoshi thinks to himself, as Aoyama bounces back to his seat.

“Oh! Oh! I’ll go next!” Mina jumps out of her seat, and runs up with her own whiteboard. “Alien Queen!”

“A-Alien Queen?” Midnight jumps a bit, her face paling. “Like the ones in those scary movies that spit acid? Maybe reconsider naming yourself after a horror movie monster!”

“Aw, okay.” Mina sulks back to her seat.

Tsu ends up on the podium third. She’s not at all mortified or embarrassed by being up there, not one bit. “I’ve had this idea since I was in elementary school. Rainy Season Hero: Froppy!”

“That is adorable, Tsu-chan~!” Midnight says, with a big smile on her face. “Approved! Hello, Froppy!”

Thankfully, the choice of Froppy seems to bring the vibes in the room back to normal. For the next twenty minutes or so, it follows a pretty simple pattern—someone will walk up and present their hero name. Midnight-sensei will approve or disapprove. They’ll go back to their seat, and if they have to, think of a new idea. And then someone else will walk up. It’s pretty voluntary, but as much as Hitoshi wishes to be able to turn invisible like Izuku can, he knows he can’t put it off for long.

Uraraka goes before him. “It, um, it took me a bit, but I came up with this… Uravity!”

“Stylish! A mixture of your name and the word gravity, right?” Midnight-sensei asks. “Approved. Hello, Uravity!”

And then it’s Hitoshi’s turn. He tries to ignore the way his palms sweat on the whiteboard as he walks up. Bearing a part of yourself, a thought or an idea, to your classroom for judgement is hard. He doesn’t know how some of his classmates can do it for so long. But he has to do it, just like everyone else, so might as well rip off the band-aid, right?

“…Lethe?” Midnight reads aloud, tilting her head. “I’m not familiar with that.”

For the first time in a while, Aizawa-sensei clears his throat. Hitoshi had thought the man had fallen asleep standing up until that moment. “Greek mythology. One of the rivers in Hades, correct?”

“Y-yes.” Hitoshi responds, flinching at the stutter in his words. God, this is so embarrassing.

“The river of forgetfulness. Interesting choice, Shinsou.” Aizawa-sensei says.

“Forgetfulness, huh?” Midnight repeats. “Kinda like your Quirk, but not quite. Sounds good to me!”

Lethe. Uraraka claps for him, and a few of his classmates compliment the name. Not too much fanfare, but just enough for it to count. So not too bad. It could’ve gone worse, right?

“King Explosion Murder!”

“Um... No.”

✨👻✨

“How high up do you think you can fly?”

“Huh?” Izuku glances up to Ellie.

She’d been helping him hone his more ghostly abilities since she’d first fought him. His ecto-blasts (which he still refuses to ever use on a human) have gotten stronger, though they aren’t as strong as hers yet. He’s focusing more on accuracy and speed, not particularly strength. This was just another night—a few bad guys beat up, and a few sparring sessions with Ellie. With Eraserhead having been out of the picture for a bit, probably just working on another case, the only interaction Izuku has been getting are these training sessions with Ellie and his twice-a-week flight around the city with Hawks.

“Every time I’ve come to train you, you always stay low.” Ellie explains, crossing her legs to sit mid-air. Her wispy white hair floats up into the night sky. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

I used to be, Izuku wants to say. There were times where he’d be afraid of being too high up. When he first started to experiment with his ghost powers, he couldn’t go too high up without a bit of vertigo. But he built up at it. Bit by bit, until he could comfortably fly at the level of clouds.

“No,” is what he says instead.

“Well, c’mon, then!” Ellie says, starting to float higher up.

“W-What? Wait, where are you—” Izuku stumbles over his words, but floats up at the same speed of Ellie. They’ve got a good foot of space between them now. “—Ellie! Ellie, wait—”

“It’s okay, Phantom! C’mon!” She floats higher and higher, through the clouds, leaving an Ellie-shaped hole in them.

Izuku stops, right at the bottom of the clouds. He’s soared above them before, but never this high. He doesn’t feel the vertigo looking down anymore (there’s some sort of comfort in the height, he finds), but he’s high, and it’s a little nerve-wracking. Not quite fear. He’s not afraid. He’s just—he’s nervous. He’s never tested his limits on flight before, other than speed. Why would he? Why would he need to go higher than anyone else can, when everything he cares about is so close to the ground?

“Phantom?” Ellie’s head pops back through the clouds. There’s a light layer of mist over her skin. It’s hard to remember that she’s technically over two hundred years old. She doesn’t look a day over eighteen. Her head cocks to the side. “You good?”

“I’ve never gone this high up.” He replies. He bites his lip, though she doesn’t see it under his mask.

“It’s okay. I won’t let you fall.” Ellie reaches out a hand to him, and he hesitates, before taking it. She helps pull him up through the clouds and above it.

They keep at a steady pace, like they’re climbing a mountain. He watches as the world below him shrinks underneath, the air getting thinner as they go higher, and higher. He reminds himself he doesn’t need to breathe, and stops it, just as they get to the top of the stratosphere.

“Isn’t this neat?” Ellie asks.

“It… It is.” Izuku mutters. Everything looks so small, from this high up. He can see most of his small corner of Japan. The place he’s called home for so long. A place that hasn’t been nice to him, but a place that he holds dear in his heart, nonetheless. “Why did you take me this high?”

Ellie smiles—it’s softer than her usual smirks. “Even though I’m a neverborn, I can’t stay away from the Infinite Realms for too long. I start to get all gloopy.” When she says this, her face shifts, mimicking a melting effect. Her eyeball nearly drops out, before she fixes herself back up again. “Just like that.”

“Oh.” Izuku nods. He remembers how weak Amorpho had gotten during their last few weeks together. “Why don’t I have to go to the Realms?”

“You’re a halfa. You’re still living. You’re, like, a solar-powered generator. You create your own energy.” She shrugs. “At least, that’s what I’ve been told. You probably should visit the Realms soon, though. Dr. Frostbite would love to meet you. So would a lot of ghosts, actually.”

Right. The Realms. A place Izuku has thought about going, once or twice, but can’t exactly figure out how to. He curls his legs underneath him, like he’s kneeling on the ground. He stares back down at Japan. It looks so small, from this high up.

“Anyway. I’m not leaving yet. I’ll still be in the city for a few more days. But…” She reaches for her neck, and grabs the chain that Izuku’s noticed around it. It’s a golden chain that reflects the streetlights when they’re sparring, and holds something heavier than just a regular little charm. A thick piece of metal, circular, the size of Izuku’s palm, is at the very end of the chain. “I want you to have this.”

Izuku takes it carefully, not wanting to drop it. There’s a little latch on one side of it, and he presses it. The piece of metal turns out to be a compass. The small needle is pointing directly towards north for him. “A compass?” Izuku asks.

“Not just any compass! It’s a tool made by combining the power of some of the strongest Ancients ever in the Realms!” Ellie says. “A long time ago, we used to have what was called an Infi-Map, a map that would take you wherever you needed to go in the Infinite Realms. It was a highly treasured artefact, and it was stolen, like, so many times, and it was eventually destroyed in hellfire.”

Hellfire? Izuku wonders. Does… does hell exist?!

Ellie continues, as if she hadn’t dropped a large bomb on Izuku. “And against what anyone else says, it was totally not my fault. Anyway, when I became an apprentice to the Ancient of Time—really cool ghost by the way, hope you meet them soon—they gave me this! It’s an Infi-compass!” She adds jazz hands to the end of her sentence for the effect.

“Infi-compass…?”

“Or just a compass. Whatever. Anyway, the point is, this compass can take you anywhere you need to go. You need some hot, greasy fast food? Ask the compass, and it’ll take you there. It’ll take you to the closest one, or the one you need to go to. You wanna go to the Infinite Realms? Well, this bad boy will take you straight to the closest natural portal. Of course, it could be miles away, but it will still take you in the direction you need to go.”

“And you’re, just… giving me this?” Izuku feels almost as small as Japan does.

“Yeah! I’m sure I can get ol’ Clocky to make me a new one. They’ve probably seen this coming already anyway. Look, Phantom. You’re the Champion of Balance, you should get something that can actually help you see the other realm you’re supposed to be helping.” Ellie says. She pauses, looking down at the world below them. “I get what it’s like—feeling like you’re all alone. I wasn’t the first of my kind, technically, but I’m the only surviving one. And some people just can’t understand what you’re going through, no matter how hard they try. But I want you to know—You’re never alone. You’ve got a whole squad of ghosts cheering you on from the flip side. And if you ever need any help, don’t be afraid to call.”

Izuku glances down at the compass again. The chain is thinner than he expected, but there’s a decent weight to it. He loops the chain around his neck, before tucking the compass underneath the hoodie for safe keeping. “T—Thank you, Ellie.”

“No prob, Bob!” She winks, and it’s like the sentimentality that was once in her voice had been thrown out the window, and the usual mischief was back. “Hey, you ever wanna know what a meteorite feels like?”

Chapter Text

Hitoshi is getting too busy with U.A. to hang out as often. It hurts, just a little bit—there’s a dull ache in his core whenever he has to call off a study session or a hangout in favor of training or the like. And he’s mentioned a weekend-long internship program coming up, and Izuku tried to not feel too hurt by it—but it does hurt. It really does.

Ellie’s leaving, and Izuku’s only other friend, his only other ally who knows his identity, is too busy to hang out. It’s fine, though. Izuku’s sped through his online classes, and with very little work to do otherwise, it’s left a pretty decent gap in his schedule to do vigilante things.

Like, research! There’s still something bothering Izuku, deep down, about the way the youngest Todoroki child acted at the Sport’s Festival. He had beaten Bakugou, but only by a hair—and that was with only using half of his Quirk. If it weren’t for Bakugou’s Quirk being Explosions, where the heat could help thaw away Todoroki’s frost, Izuku isn’t quite sure he would have won. The vibes Endeavor gave off stank, and if that overheard conversation wasn’t suspicious enough, Izuku’s been digging up quite a few buried headlines of Endeavor’s widespread property damage.

Sure, every hero has a hate article written about them every now and then. Izuku’s seen a few pop up about him, but mostly they’re anti-vigilante pieces written by rich people who have never actually stepped foot in Musutafu, so what do they know, anyway? But at least Izuku keeps the property damage low, and to the alleyways and streets that are easier to replace, than homes and private residences like a certain number-two hero.

But there’s nothing else to dig into on a surface level. Mean tweets about Endeavor being rude to fans, but that’s just his personality—what the hero world calls the “performance”—so there are plenty of posts defending Endeavor online and even swooning over the brooding pro-hero. Izuku can’t accuse Endeavor of any wrongdoing without evidence, and who would take the word of a fourteen-year-old vigilante over a forty-something pro hero?

So that investigation has led him to a bit of a dead end, for now. As it currently stands, Izuku can’t prove any sort of child abuse without proof or testimony from the Todoroki family, and there is no way in hell he’s going to try and sneak onto their private grounds when the patriarch could easily set him ablaze. Even with Izuku’s quick healing plus an emergency Trigger shot, he’s going to end up deep fried and probably arrested. He regrets doing it, but he has to put it on the backburner for a bit, because there’s another pressing issue.

The Hero Killer.

Izuku has heard the name whispered on the streets for a bit. The Hero Killer—alias, Stain—has been making moves through Hosu and the neighborhoods near Musutafu. A silent killer. He’s taken down a few heroes already, including the pro hero Ingenium (in broad fucking daylight, too, the utter gall and bravery). Most of his victims don’t survive. There hasn’t been any word on Ingenium yet, either, at least to the public.

But he’s on the hunt for something. He has a type! It’s so easy to see! All of the heroes Stain had killed have had accusations thrown around their name—mostly financial crimes, but he did kill a hero with a few accusations of sexual assault. Izuku doesn’t like death—he’s had enough experience with it—but they shouldn’t be killing people wildly like this. The hero deserved punishment for his actions, not a death that allowed him to get away with it without proper justice for his victims.

“Hope I’m not too late to the party.” Hawks’ voice interrupts his thoughts as the hero lands on the roof behind him, where Izuku is sitting, legs swung over the side of the rooftop.

Izuku sighs, and looks back at Hawks. It’s been a long patrol— stopping muggings, involving himself in problems that aren’t his own— and all he wants to do is curl up in his bed and sleep for a few hours. “You don’t have to keep checking in on me, Hawks. I’m doing fine.”

He won’t lie. He misses Eraserhead a lot. The other pro-hero was a steady rock in his life. He hasn’t seen Eraserhead for a few days. He’s sure that he’s busy with other things— Hitoshi mentioned Class 1-A was going to be doing a shadowing program at the end of next week with pro-heroes, so maybe Eraserhead was busy with that? Still; a little warning would have been nice.

Hawks he sits down on the side of the building beside Izuku. “You good, kid? You’re not as energetic as usual tonight.”

Izuku shrugs, looking away. “Just… Thinking about stuff. It’s been a lot, recently. Things change fast.”

Hawks nods, his voice suddenly softer. “I get that.” He pauses, tilting his head to look at Izuku. “You’re just a kid. You shouldn’t have to deal with all this vigilante stuff, you know? It’s not an easy pass. Especially alone.”

"It's... Complicated. You wouldn't get it."

Hawks raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press immediately. “Yeah? You sure about that?” His tone is light, but there’s a subtle prodding behind it. “I mean, I know a lot of things, kid. Trust me. Complicated’s my middle name.”

Izuku doesn’t respond, but the pain that swells in his chest is unmistakable. The truth is, Ellie would get it. Ellie always understood him in a way that nobody else did. She was the only one who felt like home—another ghost, someone who could truly empathize with Izuku’s situation. They weren’t just fighting for something bigger than themselves. They were just existing in a way that felt real. But now she’s gone.

“You wouldn’t get it.” Izuku replies. Nobody would get it. Ellie would. Ellie always did— and something about being so close to another ghost, another denizen of the Infinite Realms, something Izuku hasn’t even seen, felt amazing. The ways they would just go at each other, fighting, not to protect someone or something, but just let things be? It was natural, it was fun, it was exhilarating. She truly understood Izuku. But now she isn’t there anymore. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got all night, Phantom.” Hawks says, with a cheeky smile.

Izuku smiles back, faintly, before looking away. He doesn’t say anything more.

Hawks huffs— Izuku can tell he’s a bit annoyed, but Hawks doesn’t do anything to act on it. “You don’t have to do this alone, Phantom. I get that you want to make a difference, try and save people, but it’s hard doing it on your own. Hell, even I’ve got people to trust and lean on. Do you even have anyone?”

Izuku’s breath hitches for a second. He has Hitoshi, of course. He has Eraserhead. And Ellie, in a way. He even has the Infini-Compass now, a reminder that there are others out there who understand him. But... he’s not sure. Not entirely.

“I do.” His voice is firm, but the uncertainty still lingers beneath the surface.

Hawks tilts his head, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Mhm. Sure.” He sounds unconvinced, like he’s not buying it. “But, you know... sometimes it’s hard to really count on people, isn’t it? I mean, who else is really there for you when things get rough?”

Izuku feels the weight of Hawks’ words pressing on him. It’s not what he says—it’s how he says it, as though he’s gently poking at a wound he knows Izuku is trying to hide. A part of him resents it, but another part—one he’s reluctant to admit—wants to believe Hawks. Wants to believe that someone does have his back. Maybe Hawks is right, maybe he is alone.

“Look,” Hawks continues, voice softening with feigned sincerity. “I know we’ve only known each other for a little while, but if you ever need help—just call me. Seriously. I’m not going anywhere.”

Izuku freezes for a moment, then looks down at his hands. There’s something in the way Hawks says it. Something that makes the offer feel less like an invitation and more like a subtle push. A reminder that, when it comes down to it, Hawks is someone Izuku could rely on. Maybe someone who could offer more than just advice.

Izuku swallows, his heart pounding in his chest. “I… I’ll think about it.”

Hawks grins, his wings flexing slightly behind him. “Good. Because, Phantom... you really don’t have to do this alone. Not when there’s someone who’s got your back.”

Izuku nods. He can feel the burner phone from Hawks in his pocket, and it feels like it’s burning a hole in it. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Hawks stands up, stretching his wings once more as he looks down at Izuku with that same relaxed smile. “I’m here when you need me, kid. And hey, I mean it—you don’t have to use the phone. It’s just there if you need it.”

Izuku nods, still unsure about everything, but he holds onto the phone, his fingers wrapped around it like a lifeline. “Thanks, Hawks.”

“You got it.” Hawks gives a little wink as he takes off into the night, his wings slicing through the air with ease. “Take care of yourself, Phantom. I’ll see you around.”

Izuku watches him go, the faint thrum of unease still at the back of his mind. He doesn’t know if he should trust Hawks this easily, but there’s something about the hero that feels... familiar, like he understands what Izuku is going through.

Yet-- Izuku can’t shake the feeling that he’s just been handed something he wasn’t quite ready for.

✨👻✨

As Izuku rounds the last corner before heading home, a crash echoes through the streets, drawing his attention immediately. He freezes, mid-flight, barely keeping himself invisible, and he looks around, before he spots a figure in an alleyway below, clearly looking for something. He feels his blood—or, well, his ectoplasm in this form, technically—run cold when he recognizes the messy hair, the sharp chin, and the twin swords on the figure’s back.

Stain.

The Hero Killer.

What is he doing in Musutafu? Izuku scans the streets quickly—there’s no heroes or bodies or anything he should immediately worry about. Izuku shifts a little lower, keeping himself invisible still, getting a little closer to the villain below him. The Hero Killer looks like he’s waiting for someone.

Oh.

He’s waiting for me.

Izuku quietly lands behind Stain, but Stain moves faster. A dagger is pulled out from his belt, and thrown at Izuku’s still invisible body. If it weren’t for his quick reflexes, it would have nailed him in his shoulder. His invisibility drops, but he turns intangible, the weapon slicing right through it.

Stain turns, an evil grin plastered on his face.

“What do you want?” Izuku asks, narrowing his eyes, falling back into a more defensive position.

“Ah, the little ghost-boy himself. Phantom.”

Izuku’s stance tightens. His pulse quickens, but he doesn’t let his guard slip. “What do you want, Stain?” He repeats.

“Nothing much.” Stain replies coolly. “Just a little conversation. I’ve heard quite a bit about you. Interesting, isn’t it? The ‘vigilante’ everyone’s talking about these days.” His voice carries a dark amusement that sends a shiver down Izuku’s back. He takes a step forward, and Izuku takes a step back. “The one who’s been cleaning up the streets. Still breathing, too. Quite impressive.”

Actually, not breathing, I’m dead, Izuku bites back the urge to quip back. He stays still, keeping an eye on the Hero Killer’s movements. His frown deepens a bit. “What’s your point?”

Stain’s gaze is haunting. It looks like he’s pulling Izuku apart in his mind and trying to figure out how the pieces fit back together. One hand rests cooly on the hilt of one of the swords on his back, and the other, a tight fist at his side, ready to attack or block if Izuku moves first. But both of them know Izuku isn’t the shoot first, ask questions later sort of hero. So, it’s meant more to intimidate Izuku—a show of strength from Stain.

“You’re different from the others.” Stain eventually says. “You’re not like all those other heroes, with their fancy masks and their showy acts. The ones that run society into the ground. But you? You’ve been doing the job they should be doing for them, with no reward in return. You keep the streets clean, you do things right.”

Izuku’s frown deepens a bit. “What’s your point?” He asks, taking a step back.

Stain steps closer. “You’re different from the others. You’re not trying to be anything but yourself. But, tell me, kid—how long do you think you can keep this up?”

Izuku stays quiet.

Stain continues. “You can’t fix a broken system by pretending it isn’t broken, kid.”

“I’m not pretending.” Izuku retorts. “I’m just—I’m trying to focus on saving people. I don’t care about the system.”

“And you think that’s enough?” Stain unsheaths one of his blades.

Izuku steps back again, kicking off the ground to float in the air. “I don’t—I don’t know, but—”

“You’re just one kid, Phantom. One kid with a power you barely understand. How old are you, anyway? Twelve? Thirteen?”

Izuku doesn’t respond.

“You’re just playing a game you don’t understand.” Stain steps back, suddenly, smirking. “But what happens when it gets too hard? What happens when people die on you, kid? When someone kills in front of you? What happens when you realize… idealism isn’t enough?”

A hot tear runs down Izuku’s cheek, but he doesn’t respond.

“You’re an interesting kid, Phantom. You’re brave. But naïve. You’re going to break—or you’ll become the thing you hate.” Stain chuckles. “I’ll be watching you. Let’s see what you become.”

And, just like that—Stain is gone.