No One Mourns the Quirkless

by PrismaticColor

Summary:

This story follows Veridian and Viví.
Viví is a genius, only hindered mentally by the fact she is quirkless.
Veridian is a vigilante, she meddles in places she really shouldn’t and gets stabbed so many times she’s basically a pincushion.
If you think the names look similar, it’s because they are the same person.
Viví “Veridian” Midoriya goes to UA and pulls at strings she shouldn’t be, but changes the people around her’s lives, for better or for worse.
———————————————
The story follows almost every character at some point, and everyone has a backstory and a side plot. Just check the tags, those give a slight idea as to what is to come.
Also, Viví is not a genderbent Izuku. 😔

Currently the story is set during the entrance exam’s. (I will update this as the story progresses)

Notes:

The beginning part is very important btw, just not for like a hundred chapters 🤭

Chapter 1: Fork in the Road

Notes:

Incase your wondering what Viví/Veridian looks like-

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1HfE6U86lhd1rOCTBQ9ZfTB0TQEBVUzeRFw7W57v306s/edit?usp=drivesdk

Sometimes life sets you in positions to choose. 

In cartoons this is usually depicted as a split path. Maybe two rivers leading different ways, or maybe two roads stemming from one. Perchance, a fork in the road?

 

2 notes:

1. That's the title of the chapter
2. You can’t just say perchance

 

 

Basically, life has you being pulled towards two different sides and or directions.

 

Currently Veridian was being pulled in two directions, her legs towards the right and her upper body towards the left.

 

Searing pain bloomed in her midsection, as she was being quite literally ripped in half. Well, sort of. Her body was ripping in multiple places. 

 

The scar she’s had since she was nine, tore and took her eye with it. Her vision explodes in static. One eye floods with light and red and burning, hot, sharp, uncontainable. Blood drips down her cheek, coating her lips. Her jaw clenched so tight it hurts. She’s screaming. She thinks she’s screaming. She can’t hear it over the ringing.

 

She looks- tries to look- for someone. Anyone. Her family. Her people. Her brothe-

A hand yanks her backward like a puppet on a wire. Fingers wrap around her ribs like they own them. Something gets shoved into her. Not a blade. Worse.

A quirk.

Then another.

And another.

And another.

They don’t sit right. They scratch and claw and fight inside her, snapping nerves, eating oxygen. Her body is folding inside itself. Her body is like a balloon about to pop.

 

Then, a gunshot.

 

 

☆ ᕱ⑅ᕱ

ପ(„• ༝ •„)ଓ

┏━∪∪━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

 

This is not the beginning of the story. This is how Viví’s life was split in half. Literally and figuratively. Split between Viví and Veridian. Now to tell her story: I don’t want to start at the beginning. 

I’m not ready to tell you how I got there. I’m not even sure i understand it myself.

But I am aware, normally one would start at the beginning. 

My backstory.

Uh, no, sorry- 

My Tragic Backstory™

How I became Veridian, the greatest vigilante.

 

Well fuck you im starting in the middle. 

 

☆ ᕱ⑅ᕱ

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┏━∪∪━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

 

 

Livid. Annoyed. Pissed. Angry. Upset. Shit just throw in violence while you're at it. Maybe even a sprinkle of suicidal.

 

Eraserhead had been minding his business, drinking his coffee and strolling down the street enjoying his life and free time.
Granted he was just coming home from school and he was going to be on patrol in like ten minutes but I digress.

As he stalks down the street, he hears footsteps pounding behind him and getting closer. 

Instinctively he goes to intercept but they shoulder check him and keep running. They slammed into his shoulder so hard his coffee went flying through the air.

His coffee arcs beautifully through the air, slow-motion style. 

I can visibly see the moment where he loses faith in life. 

“Fuck. my. life.” Is what she imagined going through that poor man’s head. By the look on his face he is planning a murder. It could be his own.. or the man who just spilled his coffee.. and by the way he was now looking at her it could be Veridian…

Oh shit he spotted me.

The rooftop where Veridian perched in all her glory, like a rabbit themed Batman without a cape, had the best view of the fight. Eraser was up against one guy, or so he thought, and was currently winning. 

She’d been chasing these two thieves, keyword two, all across her patrol zone. Despite not being on patrol. She was going to get lunch (boba and candy) with her brother but she overheard these two planning a heist and had to step in cause she is such a Good Samaritan.

Pause. 

Who in their right mind calls it a heist. That’s like calling a phone a telephone. That’s like calling a car a horseless carriage. What century are we in?? 

But like, is there a better way to put it? 

Planning a stealing related crime.. 

planning a burglary… 

planning a pilferage…

Planning a robbery! 

Robbery is a much better word than heist. Glad we sorted that out. 

Resume. 

Point is, their patrols ended up getting tangled due to the pair of thieves deciding to commit robbery from a deli shop. 

One of them went in, eyes bloodshot and slightly glowing pink, and grabbed everything they set their peachy eyes on. The other stood outside with her eyes glowing a dark pink. It would be beautiful if it didn’t mean she was using her quirk on him. 

Veridian ended up trying to step in between them but they both dashed. The puppeteer ran one way and the other guy snagged her glove so she kinda had to chase after him. 

In my defense, he made it personal. I can’t walk around with one glove, what am I, OJ?

If it doesn’t fit, you must acquit my ass.

Back to now, Eraser was fighting off the one with the physical quirk but he’d clearly lost the upper hand. 

Not sure what happened in the three paragraph recap but now he is losing.

Veridian continued surveying the area for the girl he was with. She knew the way to get him out was to get the puppet master, but she didn’t know where the other bitch was so she waited until she stepped out. 

Eventually the other guy begins to slow down his fighting and realize what’s happening. He was still swinging, but his mouth was catching up to his brain and trying to explain what happened. Veridian concluded her hold on him was probably wearing off. 

The Puppet Master stepped out, trying to lock eyes with her target. Viví jumped down, hit the ground hard, and rolled to absorb the impact. Viví hit her across the face with a metal pipe on the ground. The puppeteer slumped mid-sentence, unconscious. Probably concussed. Based on the loud smack she just heard, that was the puppet being put down by Eraser. She slapped some cuffs she stole from Tsukauchi on her and dusted herself off.

Eraser stalked over, and he looked MAD. Like ready to commit murder mad. Veridian concluded he was still seriously upset about the coffee that had been spilled earlier. Understandable.

“What took you so long,” Eraser deadpanned, side eyeing her, “checking for split ends?” 

“No, I was checking for the other perso- do I have split ends?” Veridian panicked and pulled a piece of hair out of her ponytail and observed it. She squinted at it like she was trying to read a map, but nope. Too dark. We are lost.

“Need a light?” A soft glow illuminated her hair, and she looked up to thank him… but she saw he had his hands on his scarf once again. His eyes locked onto her. She let out a groan and rolled hers. 

If she was anyone else she would feel a light tug then an empty feeling wherever her quirk manifested. Unfortunately, there wasn't a quirk for Eraser to erase. Loser.

“Girl. I just helped you, really.” Veridian whined, already regretting opening her mouth. 

Veridian thanked god she was outside the alleyway so she wasn't cornered. She didn’t look behind her, cause the second she did he would probably kick her or something. He was so aggressive sometimes! Instead she tried bargaining. 

“I’ll get you a new coffee?” 

Eraserheads hands twitched under the scarf. He scoffed, then lunged.

In a blink, he was where she had been.

She, however, was flying upward, holding tight to her grappling hook line.

I created it myself. Pretty cool if I do say so myself. 

The two heroes jumped from rooftop to rooftop in a dance they had perfected. 

☆ ᕱ⑅ᕱ

ପ(„• ༝ •„)ଓ

┏━∪∪━━━━━━━━━━━━

Like half an hour later and two towns over she finally ditches him. 

He really likes his coffee so understandably he was really upset. 

BUT IT WASN'T ME WHO KNOCKED IT OVER??????? 

Sighhh, I literally cannot with that man.

Viví tossed her mask and hoodie back into her bag, then slung it over her shoulder and began towards the boba shop a couple streets over. 

She was supposed to be meeting up with her brother, and was going to be there right after school but she overheard the two people planning and she just got tied up. She waits for a bit, calls him, no response. 

Weird. But not weird-weird. Probably. 

Instead of waiting for him, she buys him a boba and leaves to go home, assuming he’s there. 

On her way home, she passed some wreckage of a hero fight. The area was destroyed, sludge tossed all around the walls and in puddles mixed with rainwater. Viví made her way through the small crowd, getting a quick look at the police before ducking under the tape. She was in “stealth mode”, keeping under the radar and looking around. Basically she didn’t talk and didn’t fan girl about all the heroes around. 

Hoe, I do not “Fan Girl.” I analyze. Thank you very much.

Viví reached for her hero notebook- same as Izuku’s, worn and scribbled in. She opened it up, just incase there was anything worth remembering. There usually was.

Purley out of curiosity. 

I may be a bunny but curiosity kills bunny’s too. 

The place kinda stank of sewage but also of smoke. Like a lot of smoke. Viví never really liked the smell of smoke, it reminded her of her father and of Kacchan.. well. Speak of the devil. 

“Vandal!” 

Ah. He still calls me that. Even though he knows it wasn’t me! And it was half a decade ago! How funny, right? Good times. (Very very bad times)

“What the hell are you doing here, and where did Deku go?” Kacchan walked up, drenched in sludge, hair plastered to his forehead, and looking like an absolute disaster.

“Katsuki! The medics haven’t cleared you yet, come back over here! Oh! Viví, are you here for Izuku?” Uncle Masaru walked over and laid a hand on his son's shoulder. He looked pale, and a bit shaken up from whatever happened here. 

Viví ignored Kacchan’s burning glare and focused on her Uncle, “I was just passing by and saw you two, so I came to see what happened. What happened with Izuku?” 

Masaru went to speak but Kacchan spoke before him, “Damn deku tried to kill himself!” 

Her pulse stopped, “What.” Her ears rang. That couldn’t be right. 

His father quickly jumped in upon seeing Viví become distraught, “Your brother is alright, he just jumped into a fight to save Katsuki.” 

Aweee like brother like sister. He’s so me!

“Are you alright Kacchan, what happened?” 

“I don’t gotta tell you crap, Vandal.” He growled and went to shove her but Mitsuki came up behind him and yanked him back. 

“Oh Viví! Is Izuku okay?” She rushed over, arms already reaching for Viví. She stiffened and meagerly wrapped her arms around her auntie as well. 

“I tried to call him, but… he didn’t answer.” 

“Katsuki was attacked by this sludge monster. Your brother ran in when none of the heroes did. He saved my boy.” Auntie looked like she was about to cry. Dammit, if the hero’s got a statement they would find out he was quirkless and do something they would regret. 

“Right after the incident he ran away… not letting any of the heroes talk to him.” 

Oh, sick.

“Is there anything you need, or anything I can do?” Viví waited for her aunt to pull away and wipe her tears. She went to speak but Kacchan spoke for her.

“Tsk, there’s nothing you can do, Vandal. Like I said, go home or go to wherever the hell that freak would go. Make sure he’s okay.” Kacchan gasped, grunted- and fell to the ground. Paramedics rushed over to check on him. 

Her auntie immediately dropped down to her son, and helped the men get him back onto the stretcher. A woman in a police uniform caught her eye. Her expression was weird. Yea, time to leave. In moments Viví was out of the crowd and on her way back home.

☆ ᕱ⑅ᕱ

ପ(„• ༝ •„)ଓ

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“Worthless Viví, nothing but a smudge on the walls of this school.” The principal passed a photo of the mural painted on the side of the school to Hisashi, “And then there were flowers drawn all around it, spider lilies to be specific.”

The office was relatively small, but the lack of oxygen in Viví’s lungs made the room feel like a cardboard box. Her father looked at the photo with a grim look. Small streams of smoke fell from his lips which made it even harder for Viví to breath. 

“Now, Mr. Midoriya, we don’t take kindly to vandalism in this school. It’s unbecoming. Now we have reason to suspect the vandal was Viví as her name is on-“ 

“Are you kidding me! You think it’s me because my name is on it?” She bolted upright in her chair, “I’ll have you know the-” there was a sharp pain in the back of her head, and the front. Her fathers hand smacked and pushed her head into the desk in front of her. 

“I am so sorry for Viví. She doesn’t know how to respect authority.” He gave her a glare that promised pain when she got home, “she will take any sort of detentions or punishment as you see fit.” 

“Ah, I was going to go with expulsion… but I feel like we can find a better solution.” 

“Expulsion rarely teaches the kind of lessons we need,” the principal said, flipping open a manila folder with Viví’s name on the tab. “But there are… alternative programs. Private. Off the record.”

He didn’t look at Viví. He didn’t have to.

“There’s one in particular, specializes in behavioral reconditioning. Full immersion, full isolation. Highly secure. It’s had great results with other problem children.”

He tapped a paper clipped form with a clean, clinical logo at the top.

“It’s called The Burrow.”

Her father exhaled slowly, a trail of smoke curling toward the ceiling. He didn’t ask what it was.

He just said, “Do it.”

Walking out of the office felt like a deep breath of air, but when they left all she heard was whispers. 

Vandal, they called her. 

A worthless Deku, and a rejected Vandal. Just them against the world.

 

☆ ᕱ⑅ᕱ

ପ(„• ༝ •„)ଓ

┏━∪∪━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The front door creaked open as Viví stepped inside, hanging her hoodie up next to the door and leaving her shoes below it. The apartment smelled like microwaved rice and chicken. All the lights were dimmed except for the living room, where the TV’s glow was across the walls.

On the couch, Izuku was absolutely beaming. He sat cross-legged, starry-eyed, watching an old All Might video on loop. 

“…Izuku?”

He spun around, practically jumping off the cushions.

“Ah! Viví!” He launched himself off the couch cushions to greet her, “Today was AMAZING! I need to tell you what happened!”

“I got a little bit of it from Kacchan,” she muttered. She stepped over a pair of his sneakers and passed him the boba, still barley cold, she’d bought nearly an hour ago. 

Izuku took it and set it aside while recounting his day to his sister. Viví wandered into the kitchen and started rummaging through the cabinets, her voice muffled by a bag of rice crackers.

“And when I was walking through the thingy over by Cont Street… a VILLAIN POPS OUT OF THE SEWER!”

She dropped the crackers. Viví peeked around the corner of the cabinet door, a cracker dangling from her mouth. 

“What?? Are you okay?”

“I sustained no bodily damage.”

“Okay what the FUCK does that mean?”

“I mean,” he said matter-of-factly, “when I was being choked out by this sludgy thing-”

“Choked out?”

“-and I was about to pass out-”

“Pass out?!?”

“I SAW ALL MIGHT.”

Viví threw herself over the counter and over to the couch while squealing so loud she almost cracked the window.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT, ALL MIGHT??”

“He saved me!” Izuku swooned mid-sip.

“Hoe, I’m gonna need you to lock in,” Viví grabbed his shoulders and shook him, “Did you get to talk to him?!”

Izuku froze. The mood shifted.

“….”

Viví let go, suddenly still. “Oh?”

“I asked the question,” he mumbled. “If us quirkless can be heroes.”

There was a silence.

Izuku shook his head once. Then, tears. Quick, messy, both of them sniffling in opposite directions like they were allergic to sincerity. Viví’s nose twitched in the way it only did when she was truly upset. Then Izuku actually locked in, eyes focused and he stopped sniffling.

Izuku huffed, and turned back to his sister, “But… okay, he made me promise not to tell anyone. Anyone.”

“Okay???” She said wiping at her stinging nose like she got punched. 

“You’re my sister, though. I trust you with everything. But you have to promise me not to tell.”

Viví groaned and flopped backwards over the couch arm.

“God, I hate when you tell stories. You literally take forever. Anyway, yes, I promise.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.

“He… offered me a quirk.”

Viví sat up so fast her spine cracked, and weirdly enough her elbows.

“Call the police. That is not All Might, that’s a predator.”

Izuku doubled over laughing, nearly spilling his boba.

She stared at him, completely serious. “I mean it.”

Between wheezes, he explained the whole story: the villain fight, All Might’s injury, the power being passed down, and the insane, secret legacy of One for All.

Viví nodded along, occasionally interrupting with a dry, “911, What’s your emergency?” or “Yeah, there’s a grown man offering his quirk to minors please send backup.”

“Wait wait wait, back the fuck up,” she said suddenly. “What would make him want to give away All for One?”

“No- it’s One for All. Not All for One.”

“Okay.”

“And it’s because of this villain- like, bad villain, I don’t know the name-”

“Maybe it was All for One.”

“Shut up. This villain-”

“All for One.”

“-Apparently jacked up his organs so bad, he can only use it for three hours a day.”

“Jesus… All for One really did a number on him.” 

Izuku facepalms, “Enough. Please. All for One doesn’t exist.” 

Viví chuckles and finally lets him continue.

“Anyways, after three hours he… deflates.”

A long pause. Viví doesn’t blink.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

Viví stared at him. Her mouth opened slightly, then closed again. She blinked twice.

She said nothing.

They both stared.

Ten seconds. 

Fifteen.

Viví began a one-sided staring contest. 

She lost. 

“I’m gonna ignore the inflatable man thing… How can you trust him?” she asked instead.

“I don’t know,” Izuku said quietly. “But this feels like… a last chance. And it’s coming from the number 1 hero himself.”

“Sigh.” Viví said.

“Don’t audibly say ‘sigh.’ It’s weird.” Izuku gave her his boba cup to throw away.

“Sighs louder…” She paused for a moment and was going to say something but just shook her head, “I’m making dinner.”

 She got up and turned, opened the fridge, stared inside. Then closed it. Opened it again. 

 “…What the hell does deflate mean?”

Notes:

I hope you enjoy <33 there will also prolly be a couple side story's as well, but this is the main story. Also, updates will be VERY slow as this first chapter took me almost a year to actually post. But I also got side tracked with some other stuff, and now I have the whole summer to write!

Chapter 2: Telephone

Summary:

This chapter starts right at the chase when Veridian loses Aizawa in the previous chapter. It follows him to tsukauchis office, then to Tsukauchi getting the tea from Toshinori about his new successor.

There was a cat on the roof across from him. Just a stray, stretched long and getting sunbaked ledge, one eye cracked open, twitching at nothing. 

Aizawa envied it.

He moved at a jog, scarf around his shoulders, boots hitting the roof with practiced silence. Below, traffic was loud. School had ended not too long ago. Students still swarmed the sidewalks, noisy, predictable. Up here, it was only him and her, and the cat.

Veridian.

She darted across the rooftops like she’d been doing for years. Like Aizawa taught her. Her silhouette flickered between AC units and rusted vents, arms swinging and hands grabbing, rabbit mask catching just enough light to shimmer. She moved better than last month, clearly healed from whatever injury she had been hiding. Cleaner lines, tighter turns. Also, the grappling hook was new.

She didn’t stumble anymore. She didn’t hesitate. Her landings were almost quiet.

Aizawa exhaled slowly. He didn’t speed up.

He could catch her. He knew that. Probably. But then what?

Haul her in? Lecture her again about jurisdiction and responsibility? Threaten her with the law? The same person who created that ridiculous green suit that had more lock picks sewn into it than threads? Same girl who jumped off a roof and onto (yes, ontop of) Hawks to escape getting caught? Who was able to get out of his scarf by chewing through it? 

…Right.

Ahead, she vaulted over a ledge and disappeared. A hook fired, metal screamed, and she was gone. It felt like when she first started.

Aizawa stopped. Looked down at the alley where she’d vanished.

Gone. Again.

He didn’t sigh. He didn’t roll his eyes. He just turned on his heel and walked. 

 

         /\_/\

    = ( • . • ) =    

┏━/        \━━━5 Years ago━━━━━

Eraserhead and Veridian met on a very dark and wet night. The perfect word to use would be moist. It wasn’t pouring, but it was very foggy and heavy. Despite this, Viví brought her new notebook out and hoped it didn’t get ruined.

Viví was nine, and had only been running around and looking at hero fights for a couple weeks at most. She hadn’t even been labeled as Veridian by the streets yet. Most heros hadn’t seen her, but there were rumors of a small rabbit roaming the streets and stalking heros. 

All she had was her mask, which she got from… the… the place she escaped a few months back. 

God. She couldn’t even bring herself to say the name of it. 

After her fathers passing, and the whole “Apartment complex getting set on fire and watching her dad get turned into ashes” thing, Viví decided she seriously needed something to get her mind off of everything. 

Hence the running around and watching hero fights.

Eraserhead was finishing off a patrol in the warehouse district. He was fighting a smaller man with the ability to create chewing gum by spitting. It was gross. Like legitimately disgusting. Veridian remembers wondering what flavor it was, and if he could change the flavor though. So apparently it wasn’t that gross. Oh! And if it was always pre-chewed. 

Luckily, he was very easy to take down. He decided getting into a fight with Eraserhead while drunk was better than just calling a friend and getting a ride. 

As he was slapping the cuffs on him and waiting for the police to show up, he saw a rabbit ear poking over the side up over the roof across the alleyway.

Just a silhouette, barely lit by the glow of a streetlamp.

He didn’t move. Neither did the ears.

Then they dipped out of sight.

He kept watching

Seconds later, a small girl peaked her head back up once again. Her mask was a green and white rabbit mask, and she had dark hair tied up in a ponytail. He didn’t know this yet, but the mask was tinkered with to be able to see from as far as the roof, despite my injury. She was able to obsessively watch the scene unfold and keep her distance. Eraserhead learned about all its features a couple years later. 

Viví saw the bad guy was still on the ground, but Eraserhead was gone. He left him alone.

She wrote that down. 

Up on the rooftop, Eraserhead stood beside the stairwell exit, invisible in shadow. He could see her crouched low, flipping rapidly through her notebook. This was the closest anyone had gotten, and the most anyone had seen of her. 

She stayed low for a minute longer, scribbling furiously. Her band t-shirt sagged off one shoulder. She had no armor. No comms. No backup. Her red shoes were taped, with what appeared to be duct tape. 

When thinks of me now, he probably grimaces. 

The boots are now reinforced with metal (still an annoying red color) with stabilizing ground poles. My gear is custom, smarter, and sleeker. Courtesy of yours truly. The mask has been given the most upgrades. It has a better locking feature with a keypad near the ear, it now has a HUD so I can watch routes and such without having to look at my phone. Anyways, enough about how tech savvy I am. 

Aizawa tilted his head, watching the way she shifted her weight when she leaned over the roof. It was deliberate, balancing her weight by stacking it onto the balls of her feet. He’d seen professionals balance worse.

He silently stepped closer. She unfortunately had terrible spatial awareness. As he got closer he could see what the notebook was… 

“V’s guide to underground heroes.” 

Eraserhead assumed she was V. 

She flipped through the pages, and he saw almost 20 pages dedicated to him. He was elusive, and there was zero footage online of his fighting style, so that meant she had to have been tailing him for a while. 

She muttered and wrote down random things she noticed, like a specific way he used his scarf or how he treated the villain afterwards. 

This tiny rabbit-masked kid(?) was trying to map out his fighting style.

Aizawa let out a breath through his nose. He should’ve turned her in. Called her out. Told her to go home before she got herself killed. Instead: 

“Hm, you spelt goggles wrong. It’s goggles, not googles.” 

Viví screamed, hurled her notebook at him, and ran like hell.

He caught the notebook mid-air. He didn’t throw it back.

He flipped through it then skimmed a page. Notes. Actual notes. Diagrams of his scarf grip. Predictions about quirk timing. She was analyzing. 

Eraserhead really didn’t want to, but he knew exactly who he had to bring this too.. 

 

Nedzu. 

Fucking rat.

         /\_/\

    = ( • . • ) =    

┏━/        \━━━Present time━━━━━

The station was quieter than usual. A few people here and there, a couple heroes in the break room or the dropping off criminals.

After filing the paperwork out for both the puppet and the puppeteer, Aizawa made his way to Tsukauchis office. 

He dropped a pair of cuffs onto the stack of papers by the detective’s elbow.

“She borrowed these,” he said.

Tsukauchi didn’t look up from his file. “She always returns what she steals. That’s polite, at least.”

Aizawa grunted. Rubbed the back of his neck.

“She’s getting faster.”

“Or you’re getting slower.”

“Shut up.”

He finally looked up at Aizawa and placed the file down, “First time you’ve seen her in what, week and a half?”

“She doesn’t seem injured still, so hopefully she actually went to a hospital.” Veridian had not been on patrol, that they had seen, after she fell off a roof. She had been jumping and got a call. 

Note to self: Don't jump from roofs and text.

Aizawa left a bit after that, and Tsukauchi finished up on the mountains of paperwork he had.

      

          /\_/\

    = ( • . • ) =    

┏━/        \ ̿̿ ━━━━━━━━━

 

The sun was just starting to fall by the time Tsukauchi stepped off the precinct steps. His trenchcoat hung loose, flying in the breeze around his frame. For once, he didn’t have files he had to bring home to finish. The city around him screamed like always. Too many feet, too much neon, too much everything.

But the block he lived on? Quiet. Slower. Just an old apartment building with cracked steps leading up to it. Those steps had seen better days. So had he.

He reached for his keys automatically as he rounded the corner.. then paused.

Toshinori Yagi was standing in front of his door.

Tall, looming, lanky, out of place in a way only he could be. His hand was half-raised in a knock. His other hand was curled tightly into a fist, like he was bracing himself against something. It was strange because usually he would just walk in and lounge around until Tsukauchi came home.

Tsukauchi blinked. “…Toshi?”

All Might turned and his eyes lit up, his smile wider than Tsukauchi had seen in a while “I’ve got great news, my friend.”

“Do you?” he asked, letting a smile pull at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s about a successor.”

The detective stilled.

All Might stepped back slightly, letting himself some room to breathe. “I found him. The smile dimmed into something softer. “He’s young. Quirkless. But… I’ve never seen anything like him.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “The way he jumped in to save a friend, from a foe I didn’t. No hesitation. It reminded me of-” He stopped. Sighed. “I don’t know, Naomasa. I really don’t know.”

Tsukauchi stared at him for a long moment. Then he stepped past and unlocked the door.

“Come inside,” he said quietly. Toshinori didn’t hesitate, and followed behind him. 

The door closed behind them.

Notes:

This is such a confusing story, and I rlly need to just like, not make it so confusing. Yea. That would be perfect.

Chapter 3: Checkmate

Summary:

Viví gets into a fight at school, then bitches to nedzu about how the teachers are always on her dick. Nedzu is zero help. He also needs to vent his thoughts, and his once a year socialization with his coworkers happens.

The school doors screeched open like they were mad at Viví specifically.

The twins stepped inside, Izuku had his hoodie drawn tight around his face and  was avoiding eye contact with everyone.  

Y/N lookin ahh. Haha, jk, he looks suicidal. 

Viví had her earbuds jammed in and had music blasting. The good kind of music, old music. Hamilton. Music from the 21st century was so peak it’s not even funny. 

Nowadays music has been infested by quirks. Not all of it is bad, but dear god a lot of it just sounds like AI. 

Viví tugged her bag closer to her chest and weaved through the sea of students in the entry hall. 

I have to keep it close to me because just like the 21st century, bully’s wanna knock shit out of my hands. 

Her left shoulder throbbed from last night’s rooftop fight. It was with a pigeon. She was fighting some guy with a bird controlling quirk, but he was knocked out and Veridian thought the bird was still controlled. It was not. That poor bird did not deserve the absolutely insane uppercut it got. 

Viví has been doing the vigilante thing for years, since she was nine. Her whole body used to scream “Go home and drink so much Nyquil you sleep forever” or “Jump off a roof so you can sleep forever” but now she barely even feels sleep deprived! I still want to go do Nyquil shots… but it’s less of a need and more of a want. 

“Tch. Freak.”

She didn’t look. Didn’t have to. That voice had been burned into her spinal cord since second grade. Apparently she had been muttering out loud again. A nasty habit both her and Izuku had. 

Viví walked faster. Tightened her grip on her notebook. She heard small pops and crackles, then a squeal from Izuku.

It was going to be a long fucking day.

 

☆ ᕱ⑅ᕱ

ପ(„• ༝ •„)ଓ

┏━∪∪━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Second period felt like what most people assume a sauna feels like, but a million times worse. 

Steam being sprayed onto your body constantly which means the sweat can’t evaporate so you can’t actually cool down. 

It was only because Viví’s desk was directly in the sun. Also, if you couldn’t tell, Viví has a major fear of saunas! 

Speaking of the devil, Viví is curled in her chair in a way that would make a chiropractor hang themselves. She is halfway through a poorly drawn diagram of Hawks’ wing span and how it might be used for silent long-distance mobility if removed from the body and preserved posthumously.

Very scientific stuff. Trust. 

Her notebook was an art piece: Random speculation, lots of hero redesigns with sarcastic annotations like- 

“Pros: Hot. Cons: Will definitely die by 28.”

beneath an absolutely jacked sketch of Mt. Lady in leather and combat boots.

Katsuki was across the room, muttering under his breath about whatever worksheet had been passed out. Izuku sat near the window, hunched over his own notes, pretending not to exist. Which honestly? Mood.

She barely registered what the teacher was saying. Something about quirk regulation ethics. Or maybe math. Hard to say.

Then a hushed voice cut through the fog.

“Hey, Midoriya.”

She didn’t look up.

“Wrist check!”

A couple kids chuckled.

Some kid, Tsubasa, maybe? She couldn’t remember, grinned across the aisle. He was in the middle of dapping up the kid next to him when Viví stood up.

She blinked once. Twice.

“Haha,” she said with a dead-eyed smile. “How about a fist check?”

And then she decked him.

No hesitation. One clean right hook to the jaw. The kind that came from muscle memory, not decision-making. 

Tsubasa hit the floor with a yelp and a thud.

Gasps. Scraping chairs. Someone screamed “OH MY GOD.”

Izuku audibly choked and Kacchan looked surprised.

The teacher dropped her clipboard, and pointed to the door. Viví immediately left before Tsubasa could get a hit in.

 

☆ ᕱ⑅ᕱ

ପ(„• ༝ •„)ଓ

┏━∪∪━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The detention room smelled like printer ink and piss. The whole school kinda smells like piss, but the detention room DEFINITELY smelt like piss.

Viví sat in the back corner, legs up on the desk, chewing on her finger nails because all the time in the principal's office made her miss lunch. I swear they do it on purpose. I miss lunch almost 3 times a week, if it wasn’t for Tsukauchi leaving me food like I’m a stray cat I would probably have withered away by now. 

A history packet sat in front of her. Five pages of dense, over-glorified hero propaganda that Viví had already learned years ago from an online class. She squinted at it, head tilted slightly. Her right hand held a pencil while her left hand rested loosely over her scarred eye.

She always did that. Covered it, shut it, blocked the blur. Her eye wasn’t totally blind, but it was bad enough that trying to read with both open gave her a headache and a wave of nausea that felt like a hangover. 

In battle it’s an advantage, having her vision split means she has a larger peripheral area on her right. But outside of fights, it’s a whole different story.

As for the backstory: An “incident” with my father and a beer bottle left my eye split in half. 

 

From the front of the room, someone cleared their throat. Loudly.

“Midoriya.”

She didn’t answer.

“Midoriya,” the teacher repeated, voice sharper this time. Mr. Watanabe. Quirk: heat touch. He used it to dry test papers. Real thrilling stuff.

Viví lowered the pencil but didn’t look up.

“Yes, sir.”

“Eyes up. Both of them. You know the rule.”

She stared at the packet. Didn’t move.

“There’s no sleeping or hiding in detention. And I’ve told you before, it's disrespectful to ignore a teacher’s presence.”

“I’m not sleeping,” she said flatly. “Just… compensating for the part of my face that doesn’t work right. But go off, I guess.”

Mr. Watanabe walked closer, arms folded.

“You’re not special, Midoriya. If you have a condition, you need to take it up with the school nurse. In this room, we expect everyone to show equal effort.”

“Right. Totally. Equal effort.” She smiled without showing any teeth. “Tell that to the kid who mocked my disability and didn’t get detention.”

His jaw tensed.

He didn’t respond. Just walked away.

She uncovered her eye. Not for him… just because she was tired. The light from the window hit the desk wrong. Her vision blurred. She blinked hard, kept writing.

 

┏━ —̳͟͞͞ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ ━━━━━━━━

 

Chess Master (Baiters)

Today 4:30 PM

 

LittleBunnyVV:

 AND I'M JUST SO SICK OF THEIR SHIT

RatKing: 

Sounds quite awful! Perhaps you should try suing?

 

LittleBunnyVV:

 bitch please. -Kg2

 

RatKing: 

If you came to me in person I believe your problems could easily be sued away. I am a genius after all! -Rb2

 

LittleBunnyVV:

 it doesn’t matter if I’m a genius, I just can’t sue them. My teacher can make my life hell. -Rh4

 

RatKing: 

Still, I would still like to see you again soon. - Kd5, pawn captured 

 

LittleBunnyVV:

 AH SHIT MY PAWN. Darn. And I already told you, I’m much more pleasant over a game of chess. -Kf3. 

 

RatKing: 

Perhaps we should play in reality sometime. -Kc5.

 

LittleBunnyVV: 

no. HAHHAHAHA I GOT YOUR PAWNNNN!! -Ke3, pawn captured

 

RatKing: 

One day.  -Rb3, Checkmate

 

LittleBunnyVV: 

oh shit I gtg, ttyl rat <333

 

RatKing: 

Talk to you later as well, Veridian. 

 

Nedzu stared at the chat screen on his laptop. He sighed. Veridian’s moves had been nearly perfect. She was talented… brilliant, even. 

They had met 4 years prior. Nedzu had been kidnapped… by the same place that had created him. Long story short, the two of them escaped together. 

As the school year was coming to a close, finals almost done and students graduating he has been trying very hard to get her to enroll. 

It was quite simple: she could match his smarts, and he wanted her to go to UA. Should be easy!

However, Veridian has not given Nedzu any clues. All she has said is “You wouldn't like me without my mask.” Such a shame, truely. 

He closed the laptop and rose, smoothing his vest and his composure. He was not one for idle chatter, but this was worth stepping away from isolation.

 

┏━ —̳͟͞͞ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ ━☆━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The lounge door hissed open. He slipped inside, silent as ever. Aizawa napped on the break room sofa, never fully asleep, just detached. Kayama, Yamada, and Thirteen clustered around the coffee table, playing Go Fish. 

Nedzu concluded none of them were winning, because they were all lying to each other and stuffing cards under the table. Eventually they would put all the cards under the table. Nedzu would not be around that long. 

“Tea,” he announced to vacant air. A brief nod from each. They still played even with his presence.

Tea in hand, he sat at their table. Kayama grinned and reached to pat his head. Instinctively, Nedzu flashed his teeth. She yelped, then laughed. 

“Hello, playtime’s over,” he said dryly. They bristled, curious now.

He set down his teacup. “I need to get Veridian to UA.”

They all glanced at each other then actually listened to what he was going to be going on about. Even Aizawa sat up. Of course he did, Veridian has practically been his child for years.

“The school year is coming to a close, and I feel like they just have to work here next year.”

Kayama nodded her head, “They’re adult, vocal, brilliant…”

“And bitchy,” Mic added, voice chipper.

“She mentioned being discriminated against, at her.. workplace. She is smart so I'm assuming somewhere well paying and of high regard. I’d like to bring her here. Better paying, higher regard.” 

Nedzu knew Veridian has worked very hard to keep her age a secret. That’s why he kept it under the ruse of wanting to hire her and saying her “workplace” instead of school. He knew she was only thirteen, as they escaped four years ago, when she was nine. 

Aizawa rubbed his eyes. “Sounds like… I don’t know.” He went back to his sleeping bag. 

Kayama tentatively added, “Maybe she could teach Quirk Law? I know she loves the law.” She winked at Mic who sputtered and cackled. It was a joke about how Veridian was very intelligent when it came to breaking the law. 

Nedzu nodded. “I’ve tried everything to convince her. Even letting her make up her own class.”

Thirteen nodded slowly, “Uh, good luck with that, principal.”

Nedzu’s gaze narrowed, calm and precise. He grabbed his tea, and exited the room just before Thirteen and Mic caught each other hiding cards. 

One day, he would see her again. One day, she would come back and they would take over the world together. Or, maybe he could just mentor her and she could be the next principal of UA.

Chapter 4: Just think about it?

Summary:

Izuku trys to convince all might to let him tell viví about one for all, he also battles with a great enemy… his stomach. He is hungry. And he is slightly delirious because he isn’t drinking enough water (probably)

Notes:

I don’t like the short things split up by the bunny’s (or other animals depending on the POV) but I genuinely cannot blend scenes together for the LIFE of me. It also makes it less overstimulating to reread it, but that might just be a me thing.

The wind off Dagobah Beach carried the scent of salt, sweat, DEFINITELY tears, and strangely enough- ramen. Like. Very heavily. 

Izuku’s shoes pushed against the sand as he hauled an old bike frame into the growing metal pile. Somewhere behind him, a broken vending machine fell down the pile and back with the rest of the trash. I feel a little like Sisyphus at this moment. I also feel a little bit of pain. And by a little I mean a lot. I wanna jump off a roof.

“Lift with your legs, not your back, Young Midoriya!” All Might shouted from his perch atop the stone wall that lined the beach. He sipped from a Dunkin cup with something vibrant blue and green. Disgusting. Looks like something Viví would drink.

“I am lifting with my legs!” Izuku shouted back.

“Then your legs are weak!”

Izuku collapsed to the sand while panting. Sand got all up in his hair, and he really started to feel his muscles burning in this moment. 

This wasn’t even the intense part of the training. This was the easy part. The “let’s see if you survive cardio” portion was after this. But Izuku’s head wasn’t in it. 

All Might made his way over, arms crossed, casting a comically large shadow in the afternoon sun. “You’ve got ten more minutes of cleaning before we move to cardio.”

Izuku sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. “I need a timeout.”

All Might blinked. “A what?”

“A time out! A pause. A temporary ceasefire. I’m invoking a time out.”

“There’s no such thing as-”

“Okay but just- listen!” Izuku flailed one hand in the air. “If someone just… got a quirk. Like, just woke up one day and started bench pressing vending machines- that would be suspicious, right?”

All Might narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t what I think it is.. is it?”

Izuku jumped to his feet. “She’s my sister, All Might! My best friend. My built-in best friend/bouncer/shoulder to cry on/blackmail knower! If I randomly start firing lasers out of my knees or whatever your quirk will do, she’s gonna be the first person to call me out!” Suddenly “Slash” didn’t sound like a word. Like when you repeat a word too many times it just doesn’t sound real. That just happened with slash. It’s bugging me now. Slaaash.. yea.. I’m losing it. 

All Might shifted, the usual humor slipping just slightly from his face.

“She can’t know.”

“But why not?” Izuku took a step forward, eyes wide. “You already told me three other people know. She’s not gonna magically become a target just because I told her something. She’s been my only friend since forever. And she’s already starting to suspect something, I swear.” He stuttered through his reasoning, just now realizing he was slightly yelling at his hero. 

“Midoriya-”

“No, seriously! She asked me yesterday why I was drinking protein shakes. I told her I was trying to bulk and she said, ‘For what, our math test?’ She’s onto me.” 

All Might ran a hand down his face.

“I get it,” Izuku said, quieter now. “You’re trying to protect her.”

All Might looked at him with a look that told him to drop it, “I don’t want her to get hurt,” he said. “I’ve made enough mistakes.”

There was a long pause.

Then Izuku muttered, “She’s never been safe.”

All Might didn’t respond.

“She’s not some kid who needs protecting. Besides, She will know something is up, she has been researching our family’s quirk history for years. So if I was to get a quirk, she would know some outside force caused it.”

Still nothing.

“Just… just think about it. Please.”

Izuku went back to hauling garbage around, while All Might went back to supervising. 

 

          ᕬ ᕬ

         („. .„)

 ┏━🍓⊂ )━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

 

The park near the beach smelled like wet grass and honeysuckle. Still the faint smell of ramen followed Izuku. It made Izuku want ramen. Which is gross, because the ramen smell came from the disgusting beach so I really shouldn’t want ramen.. but I really want ramen.  Fingers crossed that either mama or Viví didn’t finish their leftovers that we got from that Korean place last night… that was nice. Finally getting to hang out with the two of them. And I got bomb ass bulgogi. I’m such a big back. I need to lock in. 

Izuku tore past the playground, sneakers pounding against the dirt path. Sweat trailed down his temple, and his eyes were laser focused. His breathing was ragged but rhythmic. The boy looked possessed. For a man just thinking about food, you would have guessed he was having war flashbacks.

Beside him, All Might cruised gently along the walking trail on a black electric scooter. An extremely ridiculous sight, especially given the fact he has to slightly bend over due to his height, but the park had a “no vehicles over 10mph” rule, and he refused to jog. 

“Keep it steady, Young Midoriya!” he called out, one hand waving like he was on a parade float. 

Izuku nodded, and didn't speak.

All Might returned to his internal weather report. Clear skies. Light breeze. Trash pickup day. That one tree still looks like it’s flipping me off. Should probably have watered Tsukauchí plants for him. Oh, I left my windows open, didn’t I?

Then he looked up and nearly swerved into the trees.

Izuku was flying.

Not literally, but close enough. His form was tighter. His stride was smoother. There was something hungry in the way he moved. All Might checked his stopwatch.

A minute and forty-five seconds faster than his usual mile pace.

All Might blinked. “What the hell?”

When Izuku finally looped back around, he slowed to a jog, then a walk. His shoulders sagged forward as he dropped onto the nearest bench, gasping. His hands trembled slightly from adrenaline, but he was grinning, wild and flushed.

All Might skidded to a gentle stop.

“I don’t suppose that burst of energy was related to pure cardio joy?” he asked, suspicious.

Izuku shook his head, still catching his breath.

“I was… thinking about Viví.”

“Ohhh, suuuuure,” All Might drawled, stretching the words annoyingly, recalling the chat from earlier. “A sentimental memory? That’s what shaved two minutes off your personal record?”

Izuku gave him an unimpressed look. “I’m serious.”

All Might raised a brow but sat down beside him.

“When we were younger,” Izuku said slowly, “we used to watch your fight videos. Like, religiously. I’d point out stuff like your costume or something dumb, and Viví would be like, ‘That’s cute, but you missed the strategy.’”

He laughed lightly, recalling the two of them squished into the same chair and mumbling random things together.

“She used to pause your footage every few seconds and make me guess what you’d do next. Then she’d explain the ten betrer moves you could have gone with.”

All Might gave a mock gasp. “Blasphemy!”

“I mean, she wasn’t wrong though,” Izuku said. “She always sees the stuff no one else catches.”

They sat for a moment and just breathed.

“She’s always been smarter than me. Way smarter. I just never minded. She made me feel like being smart was cool. She was the first person who ever made me believe being quirkless didn’t mean useless.”

All Might didn’t say anything.

Not yet.

 

          ᕬ ᕬ

         („. .„)

 ┏━🍓⊂ )━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Izuku kicked sand out of his shoes while gathering his bag. He was about to reach for the water bottle half-buried in the sand when All Might gestured toward the rock wall facing the ocean.

“Sit with me, Young Midoriya.”

Izuku obeyed without argument, sitting on top of the stone. His legs ached, and his face was still flushed from the run. 

All Might stood beside him for a moment, silent. Then he sat down too, hands behind him propping him up which his legs stretched out. A stark contrast to Izuku who had his knees hugged to his chest. He was expecting to be scolded or something, even though he couldn’t think of what.

All Might didn’t speak right away.

Just watched the sun fall lower. The waves crashing and catching the sun's orangey glow. 

Then:

“Does she want to be a hero?”

Izuku blinked. “What?”

“Your sister. Viví.”

A beat. Then Izuku nodded. “Yeah. In her own way. Support tech.” 

Another pause.

“Does she look like you?”

“She’s my twin. She just has longer hair and a scar on her eye, real badass looking.”

A soft chuckle from All Might. “And is she… a good person?”

Izuku looked out toward the water.

“Genuinely? Yeah. She’s a good person who’s had bad people make her think otherwise.”

All Might nodded once.

“And can she protect herself?”

Izuku scoffed. “She’s been protecting both of us since we were four. Though I’m not sure how good at actual combat she is.”

All Might’s mouth twitched.

He stood and puffed his chest out while turning his quirk on, he flashed his heroic smile and clasped Izuku on the back, “Text her. Tell her the Symbol of Peace is buying.”

Izuku lit up, Vidibly. Giddy, despite the exhaustion, he scrambled for his phone. His thumbs moved fast.

 

Bitch ass Mf’er 

Today 7:20 PM

You: 

Uhm. Viví. So. Crazy idea. Meet us (yes us) at Sweet Slush? Like. Soon? Pls don’t kill me. <3

Read: just now

 

All Might leaned down, grabbed Izuku’s gym bag like it weighed nothing, and turned toward the car parked near the sea wall.

“Come on, Young Midoriya,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll drive.”

Izuku nearly tripped catching up.

Notes:

I was gonna put a slushy shop that’s near me, but I didn’t do that because I don’t want people knowing where I live. Also, sweet slush is a genius name. Trust 😛😛

Chapter 5: Are you there All Might, it’s me Viví?

Summary:

Viví gets Izuku’s message and rushes to meet her hero. She is kinda rude to him but softens up. Then she runs to tell the girlys about it (Tsukauchi, Eraser, and Mic)

The sun hadn’t fully disappeared, but the city had already started glowing. Soft yellows in apartment windows. Red tail lights going through intersections, a few street lights flickering on with the growing darkness. It was just past dusk, Veridian’s favorite time of day.

The beginning of patrol in the summer is dusk, which is way better than during the school year. I have an alarm to wake back up and get ready at 12:30 am, then I have to be home by like 4. Summer means I have more time out on the streets!

Veridian sat on the edge of a rooftop, legs dangling in the breeze. Beside her, Aizawa was perched like a cat. He had his scarf loose around his shoulders and a black thermos tucked in both hands. Steam blew away from his thermos, and despite it being obviously hot he took a sip. 

They didn’t talk. 

They never really needed to.

The only sound was the occasional clink of her monster can when it hit her mask. 

The jaw plate of her mask had been unlatched and tucked against her chin, just enough to be able to drink but not take the full mask off. Beneath it was a more flexible, skin-tight mouth covering. It was mostly for identity, partially for comfort. Yes, she did drink through the mouth covering. Yes, it is terrible. Yes, she does have MAJOR trust issues. 

Fuck you dawg, I don’t wanna go to jail. You know what happens to handsome guys like me in jail? It rhymes with grape… It rhymes with grape… 

It was silent between them. It was nice. Normal even.  And then:

“I AM HERE!!!!!!!”

A flicker on the HUD screen of her mask. Lower left. A soft green alert sliding in, over the cityscape in her peripheral vision.

Eraser scoffed at her All Might text tone. Bitch ass hater.

New message:

Dickhead 🥰🔫

Today 7:20 PM

Dickhead 🥰🔫: 

Uhm. Viví. So. Crazy idea. Meet us (yes us) at Sweet Slush? Like. Soon? Pls don’t kill me.

 

Veridian stared.

She blinked.

She pressed a small button on the right side of her helmet to expand the message and reread it. Just to make sure she hadn’t hallucinated it.

She hadn’t.

 

 

She sprayed Ultra Rosa off the side of the roof like a pressure washer, and started coughing like crazy.

Aizawa didn’t even flinch. “…Down the wrong pipe?”

“Nope. Nope. Nope. Just- uh.”

She stood suddenly, almost tripping over her own legs trying to not be near the ledge.

“So… I have to go. Meet someone. Very important. Like, world-altering important. So sorry. Love you. Patrol safe. Don’t die.”

Aizawa narrowed his eyes. “What-”

She hugged him before he could protest. It was fast, awkward, and very unwanted on his end.

“I said don’t die!” she repeated, already halfway into a sprint.

“Veridian!”

But she was gone.

She disappeared into the night, only thing left was the sound of her boots scraping against concrete, gear flapping, and her mask already re-sealing against her face. 

Aizawa sighed, sipping his coffee.

“Idiot.” 

He didn’t follow.

He had only had like two sips of his coffee so he probably wouldn’t have caught her anyway. 

 

          ᕬ ᕬ

         („. .„)

 ┏━🍓⊂ )━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The door was pushed open, then slammed shut again in the same second. Viví stumbled into the entryways, yanking her boots off one foot at a time like they were on fire. She rushed into her room like she was being chased by Ingenium again. For the fourth time. 

She tossed her tool belt onto her dresser and her mask onto her bed. Her hoodie landed somewhere near the lamp and unplugged her fan. 

“WHY didn’t he warn me?!” she yelled to no one, practically clawing at her drawers. “A HEADS UP WOULD’VE BEEN NICE.”

She pulled out a few things. First- a shirt. 

Black. Oversized. A “HANDS UP: Radio” T-Shirt. It was a collectible, very old. She jammed it on over her head while hopping into baggy pants that had too many pockets, one of which held a mini hero notebook.

Her red Converse were destroyed beyond help- paint flecks, duct tape on one sole, laces knotted five times.

She pulled them on anyway.

Jewelry next.

All Might bracelet, faded gold with fraying cord, one she made herself.

Friendship bracelet from elementary school- dark green beads, worn and stretched. I+K+V 4EVR.

She twisted that one on slowly.

Then the last one.

One with a tiny black kitty charm.

She looked at it for a second before slipping it on.

Black kitty for him. White rabbit for me.

Aizawa’s matched. He never said anything about it, but he never took it off either.

She bolted out the door with a Present Mic jacket barely on and hair only kind of brushed. By kinda brushed I mean I ran my fingers through it. 

While she ran, her fingers drifted between the bracelets, just fidgeting with them.

They were little pieces of people.

Viví never said things out loud. But she wore them. She couldn’t wear them as Veridian, but Viví would never go anywhere without them. 

        ᕬ ᕬ

       („. .„)

 ┏━🍓⊂ )━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

 

No. I did not trip. I swear to you, I did not trip. I would never. Anyways, I had to run back home and get bandages for a scraped knee. 

Viví stopped across the street from the Sweet Slush. 

She caught her breath.

Checked her phone.

No new texts.

She looked down at her outfit, tugged at her shirt like it would somehow be less wrinkled if she fidgeted hard enough. Her bracelets clinked against each other when she crossed her arms.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself. “Okay. Just All Might. No big deal. Just the literal face of modern heroism. No pressure. Totally fine.”

She crossed the street.

Inside, the shop was very cold, and smelt like slushies. Yea. Yea I wonder why you dumb fuck. The walls were painted in pastel blues and purples, and the counter glowed with LED lights that made everything in the shop a deep blue. It was calming. But not calming enough.

Izuku was already seated. Hoodie half-zipped. Leg bouncing at a dangerous speed.

And next to him (omfg) was casually (omfg), smiling (omfg), larger than life- was All Might. 

He was exactly like Izuku described. Thin and lanky. He had a hoodie, baseball cap, but unmistakable yellow hair.

Viví’s brain short-circuited. Just for a second.

Then she walked over. 

“Ah,” she said, voice a little higher than intended. “So this is what deflated means.”

Izuku visibly tensed in preparation.

All Might chuckled warmly. “You must be Viví. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

Viví tilted her head.

She didn’t sit right away.

Instead, she looked him up and down. Like she was checking for weapons. 

Then: “You look in pain. Have you seen a specialist?”

Izuku choked on his straw.

All Might blinked.

“I’m just saying,” Viví continued, slipping into the seat across from him like she owned the building and wasn’t just trying to play it cool, “You're leaning to the left like it’s in pain, and you’ve been compensating on your right side for at least a year. That’s gonna mess up your spinal alignment.”

A long pause.

Then: laughter.

All Might clutched his stomach, shoulders shaking.

“I see you’re as observant as Midoriya warned me.”

Viví shrugged, but her fingers were already twisting the bracelet with the kitty charm.

“I grew up watching your fights. It was either get good at analyzing or lose arguments to my brother. And I hate losing arguments.”

Izuku grinned, sipping his boba like it was keeping him alive.

“So,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Let’s talk about the suspiciously powerful quirk my brother suddenly has access to.”

All Might straightened slightly.

“Of course. I see Midoriya has already told you?” All Might side eyed Izuku. Hard. 

Viví snickered, and waved her hand, “You can yell at him another day. Also, please, Viví and Izuku. Calling us both Midoriya will get extremely confusing.”

All Might nodded and smiled, “Then you can call me Toshinori. Now, as for my power…”

        ᕬ ᕬ

       („. .„)

 ┏━🍓⊂ )━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The conversation between Viví and Toshinori went like a rollercoaster. Light. Then deep. Then light again.

Viví fired off question after question, half of them rhetorical:

“How does the quirk store energy without destroying the host?” 

“What’s your actual top speed?”

“Do you have like… a sickness?”

Toshinori answered some. He dodged others. But he always looked her in the eye. That’s what mattered to Viví.

At some point, Izuku stopped trying to mediate. He just sat back and let it happen. He was watching two halves of his life finally come together.

Eventually, the convorsation slowed and their boba cups were half-empty.

Viví leaned back in the booth, arms crossed.

Toshinori coughed into a napkin, then set his drink down gently and looked at her.

“You’re… remarkable,” he said.

She blinked. “You’re weird.”

“I mean it. I’ve met a lot of people. Heroes, students, critics. You’re different.”

“You sound fake, but okay.” 

He smiled. “You’re observant and fearless. You see things other people don’t.”

Viví shifted.

Something in her expression wavered. Just for a second she put her guard back up.

Toshinori didn’t push.

He just added: “I don’t know where your path leads. But I think you’re someone who could change the world, too.”

She made a face. “Gross.”

Izuku wheezed.

Toshinori stood slowly, cracking his back.

“Come on. I’ll drive you both home.”

As they stepped outside, Izuku and Viví both called shotgun, then immediately bolted to the car to fight over who would get to sit in the front seat next to All Might. 

 

        ᕬ ᕬ

       („. .„)

 ┏━🍓⊂ )━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

 

The hot summer air blew past Veridian’s skin as she climbed down a fire escape and launched herself onto the steps of the police station with a graceless thud. Her limbs felt loose. Floaty. A little bit like how she felt when she hopped on Hawk’s back and flew around for a solid ten minutes. 

She pushed open the door with both hands like she was entering a stage, boots scuffing across the tile. Every step had bounce in it. Her mask hid the grin, but not the vibe. 

Aizawa and Tsukauchi were by the front desk. Present Mic was perched on the arm of a couch, sipping canned coffee like it was a fine wine.

The three of them looked up at the same time. 

Veridian raised both hands and started doing jazz hands, then Vogueing while giggling and falling onto the ground. Present Mic was hyping her up, and Eraser was mumbling about going to get a breathalyzer. 

“Okay wait wait wait,” she said, “before anyone asks- yes, I ditched patrol. But I had a very good reason.”

Aizawa stared; still 100% convinced she was high.

“…Do I even want to know?” Tsukauchi muttered. 

Veridian grabbed both Tsukauchis coat sleeve and Eraserheads before dragging them over to the couch area where Present Mic was.

She flopped onto the couch next to Mic, her legs flew over the armrest, and she unhooked her masks jaw so she could breathe. “I just met the love of my life.”

Mic snorted.

Aizawa blinked once. “You what.”

Tsukauchi narrowed his eyes. “Ooo,” he said with no real enthusiasm, “Veridian’s got a crush.” 

“No- no, not like that. Not like- like love of my life,” she said, waving her hands realizing how she was describing it. She’s very used to talking to Izuku about her fan crush on All Might. Usually it is Izuku fanboying out and foaming at the mouth but I finally got to meet the guy in person so give me a break. 

“I just mean- this guy. I met this guy. And he thought I was cool. Immediately. Like, no hesitation.”

She flailed one hand, knocking a stack of case files onto the floor. No one moved to grab them, they were much too focused on Veridian’s words. She never talked about people in her civilian persona’s life.

“He said I was remarkable. And that I could change the world.”

The room was quiet.

Then Eraserhead raised an eyebrow. “And… you’re so shocked about this, why?”

Veridian let her head fall back over the couch. “You don’t get it. People don’t say that to me. Not people like him. Not to people like me.”

She rolled her hand over, hitting one of Mic’s shoelaces.

“I spend half my life convincing people I’m not a liability. And he just looked at me and said- you matter.” She continued to swat at his shoelace like a cat. Mic gently kicked her hand.

Aizawa squinted.

Tsukauchi softened.

“…Who was he?” Tsuki asked.

Veridian smiled behind her mask.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Veridian.”

“C’mon, Tsuki,” she cooed. “Let me enjoy my identity-based validation without the threat of interrogation.”

Mic let out a low whistle. “She’s spiraling again.”

“She’s always spiraling,” Aizawa muttered.

“SPIRALING WITH HAPPINESS,” she shouted from the couch right before falling off and onto the case files.

Chapter 6: Hope?

Summary:

Everyone is freaking out.
Viví debates on committing suicide, ends up applying for the analysis track at UA instead.

There always used to be that one kid in PE that would be all red faced, and sweating, and sounding like they had undiagnosed asthma. 

I mean no shade to those kids. As I was one of them. Trust me. Before All Might started training me to be his successor, the most “workout” I got was running from Kacchan. 

His legs burned and lungs burned and the sun burned and everything burned. Summer makes me miss Kacchan. Get it, Burned? Makes me think of Kacchan? Cause Kacchan used to burn me? I lowkey need to invest in a diary. 

His arms ached from the weight circuits they’d finished at the gym half an hour ago, and he still had beach clean up pulls to go. 

We actually saw one of my old classmates there. Sometimes people have like “summer glow ups” and I think he was trying to have that. I also think he was trying to tan, and ended up getting a little sunburn. And by a little I mean poor guy had blisters that were yellow. And he had the AUDACITY to ask me why a “Piggy twiggy twink” like me was at the gym. Ate with the alliteration, but also that’s mea-

“Keep up the work young Midoriya,” All Mights' booming voice pulled Izuku out of his mental spiral, “Keep going- you still have almost 3 minutes!” he called, checking his stopwatch.

All Might stood just off the edge of the beach, still in his skinny form, hoodie up, holding a clipboard in one hand and a pocket watch in the other. He continued shouting encouragement and kept Izuku out of his random mental spirals.

Each step dug a trench into the packed sand behind him.

“You’re driving more from your hips this time. Better posture!”

Izuku didn’t answer. Just grit his teeth and hauled. 

He’d spiraled five times today. Random things set his train off the tracks. All Might adding an extra sugar in his coffee than normal, the beach gaining more trash, the UA registration and exams coming up, a seagull almost landing on him, the UA registration and exams coming up.

Oh yeah, also the UA exams and registerion is coming up soon.

He wasn’t worried.

He was terrified.

He wasn’t scared of the exam.

He was scared of failing it alone.

What if I pass, and Viví doesn’t?

What if she said goodbye without actually saying it?

What if-

He stumbled. Caught himself.

Breathed.

Stoped spiraling.

Kept going.

All Might checked the time, seeing Izuku was done with the section for today. “Two minutes faster than Tuesday.”

Izuku smiled and dropped into the sand. “Nice.”

“Proud?”

“Tired.”

All Might offered him a towel and gave Izuku a pat on the back that rattled his teeth. Then he grabbed his notebook which was full of his scrawled workout sheets. 

He turned the page.

A section labeled Leg Day: Week 4.

He scribbled:

Section 6 cleaned- 30 minute time limit

2 min PR :)

• legs stable 
• hips good 
• lungs dying.

All Might hovered nearby and glanced over his shoulder. “Think Young Viví would be impressed?”

Izuku snorted. “She’d probably circle ‘lungs dying’ and write ‘hydration, dumbass.’”

All Might chuckled. “She sounds like a good coach.”

Izuku didn’t respond right away.

Then, quietly: “She’s the best one I’ve had.”

Izuku then proceeded to down almost 30 ounces of water. 

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was past 2 a.m, maybe. She wasn’t really looking at the time. Viví rolled her ankle a few nights ago and decided to take a week off of patrols. Instead of going on patrol, she tortured herself. 

The only light in her room came from the pale green glow of her mask’s HUD and from her laptop. 

She should’ve been asleep but her legs wouldn’t stay still. She had been rolling around so much she fell off her bed twice. Just like her body, her brain wouldn’t shut up.

Izuku has been training like his life depends on it. And maybe it does.

What if he gets in?

What if he leaves?

She didn’t want to admit she was spiraling. So she told herself it was research.

She opened the UA admissions page.

Scrolled past the splashy “Hero Track” banners. The glittering “Support Program.” The “Business Wing” tab she clicked on once just to hate-watch it. 

Every single sports festival I used to go through and pay attention to every single student. I’d go back and make notes on their quirks, and everything about them. The only people I didn’t do this for are the fuckass business students. They really are just keeping busy and doing jack shit! I hate them.

Viví spotted something in the Support program, at the very bottom.

It had a very tiny font and a gray border.

Analyst Track.

She froze, and after a few seconds of staring (with both eyes) she clicked it.

Then it began to load. 

It tried to load. Apparently the link was made on an IPhode 2 and took thirty seven minutes to fully load. Thirty seven.

I debated on comiting suicide but I decided against it. I had Thirty Seven minutes to debate on it. Both sides were for it, I was just debating on a gun or a rope.

Luckily it loaded just as the rope's defender had started making some good points.

The graphics were actually making Viví’s eyes hurt. It was a white background with black text which seemed to have been made before quirk started popping up. It had just a text box, a brief course description, and one small note at the top:

Reinstated after a four-year hiatus due to applicant interest. 

Viví sat up straighter.

The description was clinical and cold but everything in it made her pulse tick up:

Focus: combat analysis, field strategy, quirk synergy prediction, hero-case study deconstruction, tactical logistics, data coordination.

She scrolled faster.

Entrance exam? Tentative/Subject to change.

Required skills? Observation, analytical retention, strategic patterning, field logic.

Viví laughed under her breath.

This was her.

This was built for her.

I wasn’t going to apply.

She looked back at the screen.

Izuku’s smile flashed in her head. Wild, hopeful, a genuine smile she hadn’t seen in years.

I wasn’t going to apply. But I can’t let him go alone.

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Viví’s floor was gone.

The carpet was gone under the books, printouts, colored pens, energy drink cans, and not a single water bottle in sight.

The center of the chaos was her- notebooks open, laptop fan whirring, hair up in a messy bun (not in a y/n way, but in a “I accidentally kept eating my hair so I put it up while being really annoyed at it”), and her hoodie sleeves shoved up. 

Her mask rested beside her on the pillow up on her bed, the HUD was detached and plugged into her tablet so she could run feed through it. She had thousands of videos in the mask of fighting hundreds of different people and different quirks.

She had five browser windows open, two dozen tabs, and every one had a different slice of “What The Hell Is UA Looking For.”

The Analyst Track was more complicated than it looked. She had to predict hero formations, read quirks on the fly, map exit routes in hypothetical hostage scenarios.

Which is what I do almost every night. As Veridian. And I’m really fucking good at it. But, there could be people that are better due to quirks so even if I’m decent, I have to get better to have a shot.

Also, I have to dumb myself down. I forgot to mention that. 

Veridian has a very specific way of being a vigilante. Viví will have to be different so Nedzu and whatever hero’s also work at UA won’t recognize her. 

As an example: Veridian is more flight than fight. Most of her fights include running her opponent in circles to get them trapped. Viví would have to be more of a fight than flight. It’s confusing, I know, but my identity has never really been in jeopardy cause I don’t go out in public a lot or interact with people. 

But now if I do get in I’ll be around people that I’ve probably helped or talked too before and have to pretend I don’t have a clue who they are. 

And if I run into Nedzu there is a very good chance that he will know it’s me. I try to keep Veridian and Viví separate but whenever I talk to him they seem to blend which means that the second I talktohimhewillprobablyrecognisemyspeechpaternsandhesgonnacallmeoutandhavemeputinjailomfgimcooked-

To stop herself from spiraling more she flipped a page in her notebook, and scrawled out an aggressive title:

IF THEY LET ME IN: CONTINGENCY DRAFT

Beneath it, bullet points:

• Develop speech mod for field comms
  
  
• Adapt personality slightly- Act ditzy? Act bitchy? Maybe quiet is better.
  
  
• Learn to work with morons (study Bakugou notebooks)
  
  

She chewed the cap of her pen. She would keep making bullet points for hypothetical situations… but that’s not helping her stop spiraling. It would probably set off another spiral. 

Her mouse shifted and clicked on a new tab. One began playing a muted video: All Might’s debut video.

It was grainy, and she’d watched it a million times. 

Still, her hand moved on instinct. She sketched frames and mapped out the area and how he moved.

It felt like middle school again.

Except this time, she had other memories layered over it.

Like the time he bought her and Izuku popsicles, and the both of them got All Might popsicles. He had never seen them before, and they were the silly ones that never quite looked right. She still has the photo of him making the same stupid face of the popsicle. 

Or when he tried to help with math homework and held the pencil like a fork. Genuinely like a fork. It looked painful.

Or when they ran through the park and he got attacked by a pigeon. 

Viví paused her sketch. Caught herself smiling.

“God, this is the guy I look up to,” she muttered and yanked her hoodie up over her head. 

He is her hero. He is THE hero. 

Viví used to pretend to be this other person. Quieter, shyer, less of a person, more of a fly on the wall. The only person in her life who was ever normal too was Izuku. And now she had this random guy. The only person she would ever turn to was Izuku, and now she could go to her hero when she had a problem. 

Izuku would always be her number one shoulder to cry on, but now she could turn to him. 

Seriously what the hell is with the spiraling! Like, my brain keeps just going and going and going and it’s annoying… maybe I need to drink some water. Or go to bed. Bed also sounds good. 

Before climbing under the covers, she scribbled a note at the bottom of the open page of her notebook:

Ask about how to socialize better if I get to UA. 

She stared at it. Crossed it out. 

Ask if I have a shot of getting into UA.

Again, crossed out. She thought for a moment, then smiled.

Ask if he wants to come over for dinner sometime.

(If you feel like it.)

 

 

Notes:

The ammount of big words I put into this goes crazy.
“Synergy” DONT EVEN PLAY. Yes I asked google for difficult concepts related to thinking and problem analysis, no i don’t feel shame. Call me lobotomized kirishima the way idgaf 😚

Chapter 7: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MIDORIYA TWINS

Summary:

Izuku and Viví spend their birthday with Toshinori.
Veridian spends her birthNIGHT terrorizing heroes.

Notes:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SWEETEST BOY IZUKU!! When I tell you I rushed on this. I rushed HARD. I’m even rushing now, it’s 11:56 PM and I wanna post this for their birthday. So maybe I should stop typing!

Viví reached for the coffee pot, and the sunlight from the window reflected into her eyes causing a jolt through her entire sleepy body. I didn’t go on patrol last night, but I still woke up at eleven like usual and couldn’t fall back asleep until like three. 

“Ugh.” she muttered a couple expletives and tugged her hoodie further over her head to shield herself from the light. She took a sip straight from the coffee pot and Izuku practically gagged. Bitch I’m fucking tired and you refused to pass me a mug. I am well aware I didn’t ask you for a mug but use your context clues. Your on the side of the counter with the mugs.

Izuku has flour on his face, a pan in one hand, and is wearing a very optimistic All Might apron. Ts pmo. He is flipping pancakes with what could only be described as determined anxiety. He stared at them and counted out loud to not burn them, but he also kept messing up and stuttering. 

“You’re gonna burn them,” Viví announced, throwing izuku off his rhythm once more. Get ragebaited loser.

“I’m not gonna burn them,” Izuku replied, voice filled with concentration. “These are birthday pancakes. They are sacred.” Izuku relented and passed her a mug so she would stop drinking straight out of the pot. 

Viví accepted it and poured her drink in. She heard a sigh from Izuku and raised an eyebrow.

Izuku flipped a pancake and missed the plate by a clean two inches.

“You can take a break, ill take ov-”

“I got it! I can make pancakes,” he protested, staring at the spatula with another sigh. “Tradition.”

Viví made a stab in the dark as to what could be bothering him. “Tradition would be Mom calling us at lunch because she forgot again.” 

“I texted her last night,” Izuku said, setting down the final pancake. “She said she’ll call during her break.”

“Mm. What a caring mother. Totally remembered her kids were born.”

“Viví…”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m grateful.” She smirked. “Especially for this burnt masterpiece you’ve made me.”

Izuku shoved the plate toward her. “Eat your sacred breakfast.”

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

 

 

The pancakes didn’t last long. Viví had started breaking small pieces and tossing them at Izuku. They were halfway to beginning a food fight when Viví’s phone buzzed.

All Might’s fan club

Toshinori:

Happy Birthday, kiddos! I am outside your home. 

 

What’s with old people and sending texts so scarily??

Izuku read over her shoulder. “He’s what?”

Viví blinked. “Outside.” 

They shared a look… then scrambled for the door.

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Toshinori Yagi was leaning against the hood of his absurdly shiny car, dressed in a nice outfit and carrying a bag and a box. 

“You’re not supposed to be standing around like this,” Viví called as she jogged down the steps. “What if you spontaneously cough up a lung or something?” 

“I am perfectly capable of standing, thank you very much,” Toshinori replied. “Now- gifts.”

“Gifts?” Izuku echoed.

Viví rushed past him and climbed into the driver's seat and over the console into the passenger seat. “Shotgun. I’m older.”

“By five minutes!” Izuku complained, climbing in after her.

Toshinori handed Izuku the bag and Viví the box. Izuku ripped the paper out first, and immediately gasped like a cartoon character. 

“No way,” he breathed, pulling out a first-generation All Might figurine, signed in gold ink.

“Is it authentic?!” he asked, practically vibrating.

Toshinori chuckled. “From my own personal collection. Happy birthday, Izuku.”

Izuku shrieked. Then in a fit of pure joy, tried to hug him through the seat. It resulted in something that looked like strangulation, but Toshinori hugged back with grace. 

Viví opened hers with a little more caution, she removed the ribbon and opened it up. Inside was a black leather notebook, heavy and worn at the edges.

“…What’s this?” she asked.

“I know you’ve been curious,” Toshinori said gently, “about One For All. So I’ve been compiling something. Each chapter is a different previous user. Notes, memories… what I could find.”

Viví stared at him. She didn’t speak. She just lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him, nearly knocking him out the door.

“I’ll take that as a thank-you,” he wheezed.

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

They spent lunch at a ridiculously nice restaurant that Toshinori claimed was “affordable by Symbol of Peace standards.” It had glass chandeliers, individual menus printed on thick cardstock, and a waiter who looked personally offended by Viví’s hoodie.

Izuku and Toshinori ordered the fanciest things on the menu purely out of spite.

Izuku sat there with the figurine propped up next to his water glass like it was part of the family. Toshinori just watched them with a look Viví couldn’t quite place. Pride, maybe. 

“Y’know,” she said, swirling her glass around and taking a sip (it’s water), “we could get used to this.”

Toshinori raised an eyebrow. “Birthday lunches?”

“No. Having a dad.”

Izuku nearly choked on his breadstick.

Viví just grinned.

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

The rest of the day was spent at various places such as a bowling alley, an arcade, a hero shop per Izuku’s request and a history museum per Viví's request. Dinner was somewhere quieter than the fancy lunch place to end the day with something small. By the time they got home, it was dark out and the air smelled like rain.

Izuku had made a cake. It was burnt on the inside and raw on the outside (yes i said that right, I don’t know how he managed to do that but he’s just built different) and it had slanted and had uneven green frosting writing out “Happy Birthday, Pookie.”

Viví had made one, too. It was smaller and darker and had a giant frosting “BITE ME” written in red.

“You shouldn’t have,” they said in unison. Then promptly shoved cake into each other’s faces.

Toshinori got the worst of it, somehow.

They collapsed onto the couch, sticky and laughing.

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Later that night, Viví lay awake in her room. The leather notebook curled against her chest. She flipped it open one last time, reading the words scrawled onto the first page in Toshinori’s handwriting.

“One day, you will be held up on a pedestal as one of the world's greatest heroes just like them.”

She smiled. He's so cheesy. Then turned off the light.

 

 

 

 

And thirty minutes later she turned it right back on.

 

The clock on the microwave blinked 8:00 PM as Viví stood in the kitchen, tightening her toolbelt around her waist. 

Usually she would throw on her metal plated hoodie and stash some knives into various pockets, but today she left the house in a paint stained shirt and a pair of jeans. She clicked her mask into place, hissing as it sealed.

“Birthday girl time,” she whispered. “Time to terrorize some heroes.”

She slipped out the window and darted across power lines and over streetlamps, cutting through alleyways with practiced ease.

By the time she got to the station, she was vibrating. Physically vibrating.

Veridian slammed into Eraserhead from behind with her full force, almost knocking the both of them down to the ground. He instinctively reached for his scarf, but she just hooked her arms around his neck, dangling like a child on a jungle gym.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEEEE,” she screeched in his ear.

Eraserhead nearly punched her.

Tsukauchi looked up from his desk and flinched.

Mic, already in the room, pointed two finger guns at her and cheered, “BIRTHDAY VIGILANTE! Let’s gooo!”

She dismounted with grace and pulled out a folded paper list the size of a scroll. It’s blank. I wrote down everything I’m gonna do in my notes app.

“Gentlemen,” she said, bowing dramatically. “I will be having a little fun tonight.”

All three paled instantly.

“Veridian-” Tsukauchi began.

“Don’t. It’s my day. Let me have this.”

Yamada coughed. “Please say you’re not breaking into anyone’s house.”

She just smiled. “Who said anything about breaking in?”

…

“Okay I'm definitely breaking into a lot of places.”

A collective sigh overcame the room. 

Eraser gave her a small pat on the head, “Happy birthday.”

 

She smiled, then left as quickly as she came.

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

First stop: Best Jeanist’s Agency.

She met him a few times, he tried to comb her hair. Which she let him, obviously. Veridian would never pass up a free head massage 

The man was meticulous. Every outfit had crisp lines and pressed collars. The personification of denim.

Which made what she was about to do practically a war crime.

Inside his studio- where Veridian had definitely not made a spare key a few months ago- she moved like the flash. Everything that had denim was replaced. The chair seats, the curtains, everything was replaced with a white cotton which had printed with detailed sketches of penis’s in wildly different proportions. Some had top hats, a couple had googly eyes, the largest one was taped to the front door. It had a rabbit mask on the head just like Veridian.

She stood back, taking in the chaos of her first prank.

“Fashion-forward,” she whispered. “Avant-penis.”

She left a note:

“Dicks out for denim. -V”

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Endeavor’s Home was her next target.

This one was tricky; High security, surveillance, a literal wildfire sleeping two floors up.

This was a man she had only encountered once and she hoped to never repeat it ever again. He burned her back so bad she had to take a month off of school in 7th grade. 

Despite her terror and the challenge ahead of her, Viví came prepared.

She’d spent the last week researching blueprints, maintenance schedules, fire weaknesses. The whole house had been fire proofed due to both Endeavor and his sons powers. 

During the twenty minutes his house’s outer cameras reset, she slipped in through the bathroom window of the son's room. She carried tarps, and pulled the water hose through the window. She saw the kid sleeping, and he stirred slightly. Veridian panicked, and paused. He stuffed his face into the pillow and didn't wake up. 

Veridian kept walking and missed the multicolored hair sitting up in bed.

She pulled the hose to Endeavor's room, and just five minutes later the room was tarped up and filled with six inches of lukewarm water.

She nearly screamed when she saw the son leaning on the wall across from her. He said nothing, but brushed past her to place a small rubber duck on the water and head back to bed. 

Veridian left a note on Endeavors door:

“Sorry your quirk can’t do anything here, good luck <3.”

She signed it with a terribly drawn rabbit flipping him off.

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Kamui Woods is the third victim. 

She hasn't run into him before, but she has tripped over random roots on roofs from places he has fought.  

He is a peaceful man, a plant dad. Which made this even funnier.

She left toy chainsaws she got from a dollar tree in a trail from his bed to the front door. At the end: a gift card to a botanical shop and a note.

“This is rooted in hatred. -V”

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Mirko

Veridian didn’t dare break into her apartment. So she broke into her agency. The entire lobby was now carpeted in rabbit feed and hay.

And a sticky note on the front desk:

“From one bunny to another. Hoppily yours, V.”

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Hawks’ Penthouse.

She had been there once or twice, whether that be one of them needing intel or just going to annoy him. 

God she hated this one.

But in their truce-turned-weird-friendship, they’d made a silent agreement: pranks were fair game. 

He had once thrown a pigeon at her- don't ask- so she released thirty-seven pigeons into his penthouse. They pooped on his sound system and one of them started nesting in his giant bean bag.

She left a little tin of birdseed and a note taped to the TV:

“Flock around and find out.”

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Midnight’s Apartment was empty for the night as she was out on patrol. 

Midnight’s decor kind of scared Veridian. I mean, most people have posters of shows they watch or something. Not usually strippers. I saw one poster that I thought was one of those “identifying flowers” posters… it was not flowers. It was sex positions. 

Viví replaced her black silk bedsheets with penis-print fabric leftovers from Jeanist’s prank. She also got some nun outfits (don’t ask how) and replaced all her scandalous outfits with them. 

She left one of those obnoxious scented candles labeled “Midnight Heat” on the windowsill. The room immediately smelled like bergamot. 

Note:

“Your kink’s aren’t subtle. Neither am I. -V”

 

         /)/)

        ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Thirteen had such a cute little home, which made the prank even easier.

She placed a thousand-piece LEGO space station across Thirteen’s floor. The instructions were stacked neatly on the bedside table.

A note was left on top of the instructions:

“I hope you see this BEFORE you get out of bed. -V”

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Mt. Lady was a very insecure woman, but only when it came to Midnight.

Of course this means Veridian broke in and put up hundreds of posters of Midnight in provocative poses.

In her bathroom, her bedroom, the fridge, one on each of the microwave walls.

One was even in the sink lining. She had to disassemble the whole thing to do it would be worth it in twenty years when she needs to get it fixed. 

She put a cardboard cut out right next to her bed with text:

“She’s taller. -V”

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bubble Girl was such a sweet heart, Nightye however creeped her out big time. 

Her office would have no door handle when she arrived the next morning. That would be the first clue. The second was the soft glow under the door and the strange humidity in the hallway.

She would probably open it with a credit card, because of course she would.

Bubbles. Wall-to-wall bubbles.

Floating. Popping. Drifting gently from a small portable generator Viví had borrowed from Tsukauchi’s supply closet.

There was a sticky note on the generator.

“Who needs a quirk when you’ve got Amazon? -V”

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

Cementoss and Veridian have sat down for tea very many times. It's very random, but Veridian just LOVES his quirk so she had to ask him about it which resulted in a strange friendship. 

He was usually unbothered by the world so this would really annoy him, but his walls had to be graffitied in chalk.

“Non-permanent!” Veridian wrote on a sticky note, clapping chalk dust off her gloves as she surveyed the mural. It was all smiley faces, cartoon bricks, and a very poorly drawn Cementoss because why not.

She left him a tic-tac-toe box labeled “Your Turn.”

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

Gang Orca had the biggest pool Veridian had ever seen. She may or may not have taken a little dip before continuing with her prank. 

One industrial-sized bottle of food-safe pink dye and after mixing it with a pool skimmer like a witch making a potion in a caldron: his personal pool was fuchsia.

Neon fuchsia. Miami Barbie Dreamhouse fuchsia.

Floating in the middle was a waterproof sign taped to an inflatable flamingo:

“Flamingo Season, Baby! - V”

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Snipe was the last on the list.

Viví snuck into the training range with a duffel bag full of replacement targets.

Instead of standard silhouettes, she mounted exaggerated caricatures of local politicians, all posed dramatically and edited to have cartoon scowls and bullseyes on their foreheads.

She even added sound effects. Every time a shot landed:

“Oof!”

“That’s slander!”

“You’ll be hearing from my office!”

Snipe would’ve been mad but he was busy laughing so hard he missed his first three shots.

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

 

Veridian perched on a rooftop at 11:59 PM smiling as it turned to 12:00 AM. She hopped her way home, hooting and hollering the whole way there. 

It truly was a perfect birthday. It’s gonna get way better in the morning though!

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

The video starts mid-sigh.

Hawks, shirtless, hair sticking in every direction, blinking like he woke up seconds ago, speaks directly into the camera.

“LISTEN. I know- I KNOW- I threw a pigeon at you one time, okay? It was one time. ONE. TIME.”

 

He flips the camera around to reveal chaos.

 

A swarm of pigeons flap around his luxury penthouse, perched on countertops, chirping on the rim of his sink. One stares directly into the lens like it’s been possessed.

 

“But that does NOT mean you fill my entire apartment with birds!”

 

A feather floats by that is not Hawks bright red feather. A pigeon poops in the sink.

 

“God. Vigilantes are so annoying. Happy birthday, V.”

 

End stream.

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Jeanist posts on his IG Story at 8:02 AM. 

The video opens with him standing before a rack of what used to be carefully arranged denim.

Now it is all white, glittery, and covered in various different types of penises.

He speaks surprisingly calmly, “Whoever did this… I just want to talk. In a courtroom. Under oath. With a full jury present.”

“Happy birthday, V.” End video. 

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Mirko posts to both her IG and her snap story at 8:17AM.

 

Mirko, already suited up, sits cross-legged on the floor of her agency which is now ankle-deep in rabbit feed and hay.

 

She shrugs and crunches a carrot from one of those little plastic baggies every public school has.

 

“I respect it. That’s commitment. Happy birthday, you chaotic bitch.”

 

She winks at the camera. 

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

Thirteen posts to her IG story at 8:32 AM

There is rustling for a moment, before she mumbles, “I stepped on a LEGO.”

Cut to her boots. One is now duct-taped together.

“There was a full space station set. Manual and all. I didn’t even know they still made these.”

“If I wasn’t bleeding? I’d be impressed.”

She gives a thumbs up and a quick camera pan to her room and the thousand Lego’s on her floor.

“Happy birthday, Veri.”

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mount Lady posted- then deleted- a TikTok at 8:54AM.

Mount Lady flips her camera around, showing every wall in her apartment plastered with signed posters of Midnight. Some being questionable in nature.

Her voice cracks.

“HOW. DID. SHE. GET. INSIDE?”

“Who even is V?!”

“I’m definitely at least half an inch taller.” 

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Cementoss made a Forum Post. Because of course he did.

Title:

“My Room Is An Art Exhibit Now”

Attached image: The chalk mural of “Cement Daddy” finger-gunning on the back wall.

His caption:

“This better be washable. But… the lighting’s kinda nice.”

 

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

For a final laugh, a photo is posted on an account that hasn’t posted in almost a year. 

Endeavor’s. 

In the foreground: Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shoto, squished together for a selfie, all with different flavors of chaos in their smiles. 

Behind them the door to Endeavor’s bedroom is wide open and revealing the scene Veridian had laid out the previous night.

The entire room is flooded ankle-deep with water.

Floating nearby is a sad, soggy Enji Todoroki, still asleep, face down on a mattress slowly bobbing like a pool toy.

His flaming clock is short-circuited and blinking “2:17AM” over and over.

A lone rubber duck bobs beside him.

Caption:

“Happy birthday, V. He’s gonna kill you :)”

 

 

 

Comments:

@Squawk: LMAOOOO

@SaveAHorse: Should we be concerned?

@HoesAreLying: …I’m not investigating this. Cause ik exactly who did it.

@passion4fashion: You guys got waterproof mattresses??

@Shoto: It was worth it.

@EnjiTodoroki: (edited by Fuyumi): I am deeply honored to be a victim of such inspired villainy. Happy birthday, V! (edited 1x by @FuyumiT)

          /)/)

         ( . .) 

 ┏━( づ♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Viví finally went to bed at 9:01 AM. She would worry about the press and the public another day. 

Notes:

This is kinda terrible but I had a day to write it. I’ve had it planned but I didn’t realize how close Izuku’s birthday was so I had to write most of it in one day!
Also- extra credit if you can guess who’s username is who’s for the comments.

Chapter 8: my mind just can’t catch up

Summary:

The title is that because this chapter goes so fast and takes a lot of turns that you might struggle to keep up!
Also because a certain little mind freak is gonna finally join the story!!!!!!!!!!!

 

It’s past midnight when Viví slips out the door.

She didn’t grab any gear because she didn’t have patrol. She just grabbed an oversized hoodie, some dark pants, and a beat-up pair of red sneakers. She also brought her notebook in case she encountered a new quirk she wanted to write about. Analysing quirks might be a part of the analysis course entrance exam. If it is, I'm not worried about it, but if it isn't then I'll be a little upset cause it's fun. 

Viví’s earbuds were in, only one. The other dangled by her collarbone, like she’s daring the universe to give her something interesting to listen to. Also because I stepped on it earlier and the music sounds a little distorted. 

Viví doesn’t have a destination, she just has too much in her head. 

The Analysis Program.

The exams.

Studying. 

Also some heroes that want revenge for her pranking them. ( Mt.Lady. )

She thinks of Izuku who’s been making workout plans like he’s gonna ace the hero course, like he hasn’t been quirkless for thirteen years and terrified for all of them. I know he's still scared of letting down Toshinori. The past weeks he has gotten so little sleep from the stress of inheriting OFA, and thank god he has my shoulder to cry on or he would be spiraling out of his mind. 

She thinks of Toshinori. He’s been by her and Izuku’s side for what felt like years. For some odd reason, he has faith in both Izuku and Viví. Izuku will always try to hide his fears from him, but usually we end up going to him for everything. Just this morning I went to him to read over an analysis of a hero's quirk that he had worked with. He gave me a gold star. I love that guy. 

She thinks of Eraser. Someone she tries to keep at a distance but fails miserably. Somehow she got in his good graces, and he thinks she’s a good person. He’s slowly stopped trying to find out my identity and just get to know Veridian as a person. Like Izuku he's been there since I was much younger and it's kinda scary that he's stayed by my side all this time. 

She thinks of all the people she didn’t have when she was younger, and she keeps walking. She keeps moving. She's at a perfect place in life, but she has to keep moving. 

She walks past the bakery that Eraser got her first ever coffee from when she was ten that very quickly became her favorite place. Past the spot that used to have a dumpster but Izuku and Toshinori stole borrowed temporarily tt to use at the beach. Public nuisances, I swear. 

She passes the spot where she landed wrong last week, and subconsciously shakes her ankle out. 

She walks a little slower. She walks one block, then two. The quiet in the dead of night always makes her head feel clearer. Steadier than anything she’s had all month, with the soft hum of music in her ear.

Until-

“Oi! Say that again, Mind Rapist!”

Viví stops.

Freezes.

The actual FUCK?

A voice pushed through the night air from an alley and straight to the ear that was void of an earbud. 

She steps off the sidewalk and into the alley without thinking.

No gear. No mask. No plan.

All she had was her instinct.

There were footsteps, and shouting, and the sound of something dull hitting pavement.

 

She counts five kids- maybe six ( one of them is either really short or a dog )- three standing, two crouched near someone on the ground. The short one is leaning on the wall.

Viví doesn’t wait.

Her foot kicks something metallic. It’s an old pipe that’s been bent clean in half and she snatches it up mid-step. The first guy barely has time to turn before she slams the end of the pipe into his side and shoves him hard into the wall. The shorter guy ( not a dog ) bounces, leaving a circle sticky thing on the wall. Hm. I’ll look in to that later. Maybe- FOCUS WOMAN. 

“Back the fuck off,” one of them growls.

Viví doesn’t freeze at his words, she moves at her fast. She shoulder checks the next one and swings low, knocking their legs out from under them. Her stance is bad, her form worse, but she’s fast and reckless and they didn’t expect anyone which gave her the upper hand. 

It takes less than fifteen seconds before the group scatters. One of them limps away another cries. All of them run for the streets.

The alley is quiet again. Viví lets the pipe clatter to the pavement. She turns to the boy on the ground.

He’s sitting now with his knees bent like they’re trying to protect something. His hood is tugged low on his face with purple and messy hair spilling out of it. Most notably is a split lip up to a split nostril, and a few thin scratches along his throat.

He doesn’t back away when she approaches, but he’s still shaking. He doesn’t speak or say anything when viví offers her hand. 

Viví cocks her head slightly.

She's not offended or upset or even scared.

Just… curious.

She watches him in silence.

“…A mind quirk, hm?” she says softly. Then louder: “I’m assuming brain control by the things they were calling you. “Mind Rapist” is just awful.”

His shoulders twitch.

She drops onto the ground across from him, legs folded into a pretzel like she’s sitting on a couch and watching her favorite show. She’s watching the way his jaw tenses, the way his fingers twitch like he’s ready to bolt. The way he won’t meet her eyes. The way his shoulders still tremble just slightly from fear and pain. He has a hand placed just at his chest, inching up to guard his throat. 

“You’re not reaching for me, so not a touch-based quirk. None of those dickheads were wearing gloves, so that rules out skin contact. You also keep dodging my eyes… so maybe it’s eye contact?” She taps her chin. “But you're also being silent. Maybe your eyes when you're speaking? Is it just the speaking part? I have to be speaking?”

The boy peeks up.

“Checkmate!” she grins. “I’m a genius. So. Verbal, huh?”

He stares.

“What are you doing?”

“Ah- so he speaks! I’m trying to guess your-”

Like flipping a switch, Viví’s shoulders fall slack. Her face goes flat. Still. Silent. Gone.

The boy stands slowly, limping slightly. He turns to look at her once before continuing.

He only makes it halfway down the alley before she snaps out of it, blinking fast, shaking her head like water got in her ears.

“The fuck?”

She spots him just as he turns, expecting to be yelled at. Instead, she lights up like a kid who got told school was canceled. 

“THAT IS SO SKIBIDI SIGMA.” 

He blinks and flinches when Viví rushes forward. She bounced a little on the balls of her feet, and practically skipping.

“Wait, wait- do you know how useful that would be in a rescue mission? Or like- like a hostage situation! Or evacuations! You could just go ‘Don’t you wanna evacuate’ and BAM! compliance! Dude, do you understand what you have?! That’s, like, top ten support potential, heck, maybe top five! And the fact that it’s so short-range and condition-based actually makes it- wait, hang on-”

She stops rambling on and gets a good look at the kid.

He’s staring at her.

His eyes are wide and he looks slightly horrified. His shoulders are still shaking and he seems to be having trouble breathing.

“Oh,” she says, suddenly quieter. “Yeah. You’re… probably overstimulated.”

He doesn’t answer, but the way he exhales like he’s been holding it since she first spoke says enough.

“Sorry. I talk too much when I get excited. It’s a problem.”

A hush falls on the two.

She rocks back on her heels, and fidgets with her bracelets before nodding towards the edge of the alley. 

“There’s a coffee place still open a few blocks from here. You hungry? I’m pretty sure I owe you a coffee or something after… uh… yelling at you after you just got the shit kicked out of you.”

Still no answer.

Then just barely audible:

“Okay.”

She smiles; not as big this time but more welcoming.

“Cool.”

And they walk.

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The coffee shop is half-closed, but Viví tips well enough that the barista doesn’t turn them away. 

Viví takes a seat by the window and Shinso drops into the chair across from her like he’s never sat down before in his life.

They’re quiet for a while. Not the bad kind of a quiet though. Just the kind where neither of them knows who they are to each other yet. 

It’s ( surprisingly ) Shinso who speaks first.

“Hitoshi Shinso.”

Viví blinks and looks up at him.

Her face softens. “That’s a lovely name! I’m Viví Midoriya. I prefer Viví over my surname ‘cause then people get me and my twin confused.” 

He stares before relaxing a smidge.

“You talk a lot.”

She sips her drink. “I get told that a lot.” Viví snickers at her own words, “…Can I ask why those jerks were, for lack of a better phrase, beating the shit out of you?”

Shinso shrugs. “My quirk.”

“Right…” she squints. “No seriously.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Strange.”

“Tell me about it.”

A little bit of a grin appears on Shinso’s face. It's barely there but real enough.

They drink in silence again. Lots of silences with these two. 

Shinso watches the girl, drinking her drink and pulling at her bracelets. Not nervously like she’s scared to be around him, it seems to just be fidgeting. She is clearly thinking, tapping her fingers before pausing them.

“Do you wanna be a hero?” she asks.

“No.” Shinso doesn’t blink. “I don’t just want to be. I’m going to be a hero.”

Viví whistles softly. “Well not with the way you let those guys pick on you, silly.”

He scowls faintly. “I just have to learn to use my quirk-”

“Or fight back. Fighting back works too.”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead he looks at her again, really looks.

His sharp purple eyes study her slouchy posture that’s made up for by sitting back in her chair, her curly hair that tangles in itself yet appears to be perfect, the fresh scrape on her knuckle from earlier peaking out from under the hand hiding it. 

He thinks of that moment. Getting kicked in the ribs. Then out of the darkness comes- her. 

Small, fast, and angry. Her true self. 

Like someone had pressed “play” on a fight scene and she’d just leapt into frame. She beat the shit out of them and barely even broke a sweat. 

Clearly she is a strange woman. He doesn’t think she’s psychopathic, but he was slightly kidnapped by her. Well, he could just leave. But he’s never met someone like her. Someone so upfront, yet clearly hiding a lot. She is pushy and fighty but also.. welcoming. 

Everyone always hears about life setting things in the palm of people's hands, but that’s never happened to Shinso. Ever. 

Until now. 

“This is gonna sound weird,” he mutters.

She focuses in on his words, already loving whatever it’s gonna be. 

“…Will you teach me how to fight?”

Viví smiles and aggressively grabs his shoulder. “Abso-friggin-lutely. If your planning on being a hero, knowing how to fight should be your number uno priority, especially because of your quirk. I’ll walk you home and give you my number, I have basically the whole summer free so I can go based on your schedule."

He hesitates. “Uh…”

“What? Oh, no phone. Gotcha.”

“No. I don’t really have the other thing.”

She tilts her head.

“The home thing.”

“Oh.” She pauses. 

“So you’re actually staying with me now.”

Shinso blinks. “What no- I didn’t mean-”

She raises an eyebrow. “What, you wanna sleep on a rooftop? You think you’re a stray cat?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s a complicated situation. But I don’t need that.”

“Well you’re not sleeping on the street tonight,” she says flatly. “I know I know, you obvi have trust issues. Just for tonight if that makes you feel better. I have a spare bedroom. I have food. I have blankets. You like blankets, Shinso?”

He opens his mouth… then closes it again.

“And,” she adds quickly, “it gives you time to tell me your tragic backstory. C’mon. I told you mine. Sort of. You owe me.”

“You didn’t tell me anything.”

“Exactly. So I win.”

He sighs deeply and dramatically.

But when they get up to leave, he doesn’t say no.

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Shinso keeps a careful distance of half a step behind Viví. She keeps slowing down slight to be parallel to him, but she then speeds up a bit without realizing and slows down once again. She seems kinda insane. 

“So…” she starts, voice soft. “Why are you for the streets, you thug?”

He grunts and rolls his eyes, shrugging.

“Just… because?"

Viví tilts her head. “Sleeping on the streets, just because? Weird hobby.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Okay, I suppose we’re doing this again,” she says brightly.

Suddenly she spins on her heel, walking backward in front of him, arms crossed and eyes sharp as scalpels. Perfect for dissecting him.

“Out on the street,” she says, gesturing, “but wearing clothes with a laundry tag still on ’em. Different name than yours, by the way.”

Shinso glances down, scowling. Sure enough, inside the hoodie is a tiny white sticker with faded kanji:

Aoi, Suzuki

His foster mom.

“Not an orphan,” she continues. “At least, not yet.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Next,” she says, “you’ve got piercings. Multiple. Gauged ears, too. Which I LOVE, by the way- seriously, the snakebite rings? Iconic. Anyway, not cheap. So not broke. So…”

“Okay okay,” he huffs, waving a hand. “You can stop analyzing me. I’ll tell you.”

“By the way,” he adds, squinting at her, “is your quirk analysis or something?”

“Hah,” she smirks. “Nope. You’re not changing the topic that easy.”

He groans.

“My parents kicked me out.”

Viví doesn’t miss a beat.

“Ah. Abusive parents. Or neglectful. Basically the same thing.”

He glances at her sideways. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“No,” she shrugs. “I say it like I understand.”

The words land harder than they should.

They walk in silence for a few seconds.

Then Shinso mutters, “Should I be staying at your house?”

Viví throws her arms up. “Oh no, don’t worry about it. The abusive one is dead and the neglectful one’s never home. Which tracks. So we’re all set.”

He blinks.

“Alrighty then.”

Viví grins at him.

Not pitying.

Not awkward.

Just… unbothered. Like they’ve been doing this for years.

She doesn’t walk in front anymore.

Now they walk side by side.

Viví kicks a pebble down the curb and mutters, almost like she doesn’t mean to say it out loud:

“I don’t know why I’m dragging you around with me…”

Shinso raises an eyebrow.

“…But I have a good feeling about you.”

He snorts. “You trust way too easily.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” she shrugs. “I just met this guy a month or two ago, he’s mentoring my brother now, and I’d literally die for him. Like. Jump-in-front-of-a-car levels of trust. I have issues.”

Shinso exhales slowly through his nose. “Right. I’m probably not gonna be around that long.”

Viví throws a look over her shoulder, exaggeratedly offended.

“Oh, you’re so funny,” she says, grinning. “I’m getting you out of the foster care system and making you live with me forever.”

“How did you-“

“Different last name on the hoodie,” she says without missing a beat. “I assumed correctly.”

Shinso blinks with his mouth half open.

“You scare me,” he mutters. “I feel like I just got dragged into something really bad.”

Viví doesn’t stop walking.

Just shrugs, half-smiling.

“You have no idea.”

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Viví unlocks the door to the Midoriya apartment and walks in like she owns the place. Technically, she does. Sort of. 

“Izuku, I’m home,” she calls, already kicking her shoes off into the corner near the door. “Also, I brought a stray.”

From the kitchen, a soft clink.

Izuku Midoriya is sitting on the counter criss-cross-applesauce in an All Might onesie, a bowl of cereal balanced on his knee. One sock is green, the other is All Might’s face. 

He looks up with zero surprise. “Hey twin.”

Viví jerks a thumb at Shinso behind her. “This is my new hoe.”

Izuku chews, swallows, and nods.

“Hey hoe.”

Shinso blinks. “Hey…?”

Izuku studies him for half a second. Shrugs. “He seems chill. Want some cereal?”

Viví tosses her bag on the couch and heads toward the hallway. “Interact with him, Shinso. I’m gonna go set up the guest room.”

Shinso watches her disappear down the hall. Izuku gestures vaguely at the cabinet. “We have, like, five kinds of cereal. I recommend the marshmallow one with chocolate milk. Genuinely better than sex.”

He eats another spoonful.

Shinso, still standing in the doorway, looks around at the messy little space, the insane twin energy, the completely unearned comfort they offer like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“This is so weird,” he mutters.

Izuku doesn’t look up.

“Welcome to the Midoriya household.”

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

It’s well past midnight by the time Viví emerges from the guest room.

Shinso is still perched at the kitchen counter, now wearing one of Izuku’s old hoodies that is navy blue and two sizes too small, but warmer than what he had. A half-empty bowl of cereal sits in front of him, soggy and sad. 

Izuku went to bed already. He wasn’t an insomniac like Shinso or a person who usually slept during the day like Viví. 

Viví quickly gave Shinso a quick once over. His knuckles are scraped. His bottom lip was still bleeding faintly but he doesn’t seem to care.

Viví tosses a neon pink med bag onto the counter beside him. He jumps at least an inch.

“What the hell is that?”

She unzips it with flourish. “The healing cabinet in bag form.”

Inside is everything: gauze, wraps, splints, scissors, antiseptic, a thermometer shaped like a frog, even a glue gun ( for reasons, she says ). It’s the kind of bag that looks like it belongs in a makeshift trauma bay.

“You rob a hospital?” he asks.

She snorts. “No, our mom’s a nurse. She just brings home stuff on the rare occasion she comes home. Me and Izuku got beat up a lot growing up, so she came prepared.”

Shinso squints, “You got beat up?”

Viví gestures vaguely at her face while dabbing antiseptic on his cheek. “Yeah, well, Izuku doesn’t know how to fight back and I usually start it. Can’t help it, especially when everyone’s already decided you’re the problem.” 

Shinso stares.

“You…” he looks her up and down. “You took down five guys. With a pipe. I’m not counting the short one.”

“I also got my ass handed to me in seventh grade by a kid named Taro who could pull his eyes out of his head and had serious anger issues.”

Shinso huffs. “I have so many questions. So very many.”

Viví shrugs, starts wrapping his wrist. “Okay then. Let’s play twenty questions. Easy way to dump trauma and keep the plot moving.”

He chuckles. “Alright. What’s your quirk?”

Viví smirks. “Wow. Starting heavy.”

“Go big or go home.”

“Quirkless,” she says simply.

He stares at her like she just told him she eats drywall.

“Damn. So you’re just a genius, then?”

“Perhaps,” she says coyly, picking a piece of lint off his sleeve. “My turn. Parents’ names?”

He frowns. “Aoi Suzuki and Akita Suzuki.”

She hums. “Mhm. Okay I need to find my death note.”

Shinso laughs and its not just a little breath through the nose. An actual, real giggle.

It startles them both.

“I haven’t laughed like that in a while,” he says, almost sheepishly.

Viví beams.

“Your turn.”

Shinso shifts. “What school are you applying to?”

“UA, baby!” she throws her arms up. “Analysis track. I’m gonna make a bunch of graphs and weird little maps and boss people around. Fingers crossed. What about you?”

“Hero track.”

“And if you don’t, I’ll kill someone,” she says cheerfully.

“Noted.”

She rips open a fresh bandaid. “Alright. Deep question time. Why’d your adoptive parents kick you out?”

He looks away from Viví and sighs.

“…They found out I was applying for UA,” he mutters. “Said I had a villain quirk that would get people killed. That I’d never be a hero. Gave me an ultimatum, drop the application or get out.”

“And so you left.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t seem like there was a point in staying.”

Viví nods once. “So looks like you’re never going back! Hip hip hooray!”

Shinso almost smiles.

“My turn,” he says. “You mentioned one of your parents was abusive?”

Viví freezes just a second then she nods.

“Ah yes,” she says quietly. “My father. He did this.”

She gestures to the scar that cuts through her eye- an old, jagged thing that catches the light above her.

Shinso nods slowly, gaze lingering on the jagged scar that cuts down her forehead, bisecting eyebrow and cheek. Under the kitchen light, her right pupil is faintly split, the black shifting in two different directions like a glitch in her eye.

“Pretty cool, right?” Viví chirps, leaning closer.

Shinso squints. “Cool is one word for it.”

Viví beams.

“Okay, my turn againnnn,” she says. “Favorite hero??”

“Probably… I don’t really know. All Might is the safe choice.” 

 

“All Might is the only choice.” Shinso and Viví scream, seeing Izuku slinking down the stairs- still in his onesie. 

Viví and Shinso look at each other for a second, before they burst out laughing. 

Izuku ends up joined them for the game of questions, then eventually they move to just dance. 

After only an hour or so izuku had passed out on the couch in his All Might onesie, his fifth bowl of cereal slowly going soggy in his lap.

Viví tiptoed past her twin and motioned for Shinso to follow. She cracked open a door just past the hallway. 

“Guest room,” she whispered. “Or, y’know. Your room now. For however long you need, and whenever you need.”

Shinso stepped in, backpack hanging low on his shoulders. The room wasn’t big, but it was clean- mostly. Posters on the wall, mostly band logos and a single All Might cutout with cat ears drawn on and a feathered boa. The bed was made and there were extra blankets folded in a basket. A charging cable was already plugged into the wall.

Viví hovered awkwardly by the door.

“Hey, uh. Before you crash…”

Shinso turned. He looked like a kid in a museum- like he was scared touching anything might break it.

“Look. I know you’ve probably been overstimulated and terrified and worried, like, all day. And probably your whole life, honestly. But me dragging and pushing you around has probably made it a little worse.”

Shinso blinked.

“I know you’re gonna have a lot of issues and a lot of worries and I wanna be there to help with those. You’re my friend now. Kidnapped or not.”

He snorted softly. The first laugh of the night that didn’t sound fully nervous.

Viví shrugged one shoulder and rubbed her eye. “Just… don’t think you have to tread around me or whatever. You’re not a guest. You’re, like, family now or whatever. Even if you’re weird and goth and emotionally repressed. You just got adopted!”

“You know eventually I’m gonna have to talk to the foster adgency.”

“Details for the future.” She waved it off. “I don’t know what I’m saying anymore, I haven’t slept in like three days, GOOOODNIGHTTTT-”

Before he could reply, she stepped forward, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

Then, deadpan:

“No homo.”

And she slinked away into the hallway, stopping at Izuku’s door to pop in and say “ily and goodnight” before slipping into another door which was her room.

Shinso stood frozen in the doorway for a long moment.

Then he smiled a bit.

“I think my life just turned around.”

He closed the door behind him.

Chapter 9: Keep up, I'm too fast

Summary:

Hawks and Veridian meet once again! It does not go well once again!!!!

Notes:

NO THIS IS NOT VERIDIAN/HAWKS EVEN AT ALL IN THE SLIGHTEST I DONT SHIP THEM, it is joked about and used as a coverup but they do not actually hold any sort of romantic or other feelings for each other. Yes this note will make sense in a few minutes.

“Almost fifty different cameras. FIFTY.”

A pen slammed against the table. Madam President loomed over him from her desk and gave him a look. Not a dramatic, villainous kind of look- just a dull bureaucratic rage filled look.

“Ma’am,” Hawks started, half-laughing, slouched in his chair, legs stretched out. “Technically, in the moment, only 23 were running. Most of them shut off in the dead of night.”

“Forty-seven cameras. A full-time security team. Locked rooftop access. A restricted ID elevator. And somehow this- this person- gets in, with an entire flock of pigeons.”

The wall behind them flickered to life. Surveillance footage. It was in black and white with a timestamp in the corner. It rolled for a few seconds before Veridian crawled through a ventilation duct just slightly out of frame.

Then she drops to the floor, and opens her coat. Something falls out, and as if rehearsed pigeons fly out from Hawks’ window in synchronized waves.

And finally: the crown jewel. Footage of Hawks standing in his kitchen, shirtless and half-asleep, feeding one of the birds from his palm and murmuring, “You’re a little guy, huh?” while scratching under its wing.

Hawks chuckled. “Okay, yeah. That one’s a little funny.”

“We’re not laughing.”

“Oh, c’mon, you can’t blame the pigeons.”

Silence.

One of the suited Commission agents leaned forward, hands folded like this was a courtroom and not the eighth time this month Hawks had been dragged in for ‘nonstandard activity.’

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I am,” Hawks said, sitting up straighter. “I just think if we’re going to talk security breaches, we should maybe be a little more concerned about how she got into a government building with a flock of pigeons and not the fact that I gave one sunflower seeds.”

Silence fell on the members again. One of them slid a folder across the table toward him.

“We don’t care about the birds.”

“Bold stance.”

“We care that Veridian- a known, high-level vigilante with a four-year evasion record- has not only repeatedly crossed paths with you, but seems to be playing you like a fiddle.”

“Little harsh,” Hawks muttered, flipping open the folder.

Inside were screenshots, photos, and reports from his own incident logs. Two major encounters were highlighted in red.

Encounter 1: Hostile. Veridian injured (shoulder puncture).

 

Encounter 2: Non-lethal engagement. Near-fall incident on Shibuya rooftop.

Subject escaped.

He gave a low whistle. “You’re still keeping tabs on me, huh? I thought we were over this when I turned twenty.”

“We’re keeping tabs on her,” the agent snapped. “You’ve gotten too comfortable. She’s a threat.”

“Really? Because she seemed pretty helpful the last time I-”

He stopped.

The agent tilted his head. “The last time you what?”

Hawks smiled. “The last time she ran across a rooftop and tripped over her own grappling hook. Very threatening stuff.”

The man sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“We’ve let this go too long. She’s been operating uncontested for years. Musutafu’s crime rate drops by almost 2% and people call her a hero. A legend. And legends are dangerous.”

Hawks closed the file slowly.

They didn’t know about the bleeding alley. The shattered radio. The moment Veridian pulled him out from behind a collapsing fire escape and stitched him up without having to be told twice. Like he hadn’t almost killed her. Her voice that night had been quiet, almost bored, as she muttered, “Don’t die, bird brain. You’re too annoying to replace.”

They didn’t know.

He stood up, wings flapping a little with the motion.

“I’ll keep my eyes on her.”

“You’ll report everything.”

“Of course,” he lied.

And with a lazy wave, he strutted out of the room, a half-smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

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The second Hawks unlocked his door, the scent of lavender cleaner punched him in the face. Oh how wonderful. Just what I want to come home too after patrol. I hate Lavender.

“Lavender again? I said Bergamont.” He stepped inside anyway, the last of the housekeeping staff slipping out with a quiet “Have a good night, Hawks-san.”

He gave them a casual two-finger salute, then dropped face-first onto the absurdly expensive couch in the center of the penthouse.

Twelve seconds was how long he could lay there.

Just twelve.

He sat up with a sigh, ran a hand through his mess of golden hair, and stood. He moved through the apartment with ease and grabbed only the necessities. A black jacket with a backup comm in the pocket plus a small hidden blade up his sleeve. His usual goggles were placed right at his hairline.

He wasn’t putting on gear besides the goggles. 

Night patrol just wasn’t his thing. That was for quiet, more grim heroes without flashy quirks. Hawks? Hawks was for the sunlight. He liked the cameras, the crowds, being a smiling blur across the sky that people could look up to.

But not tonight. Tonight, he wasn’t patrolling. He was hunting.

The commission had told him to keep tabs on her. They’d said Veridian had been free too long, moving through alleys and rooftops too comfortably. But Hawks already knew that.

He also knew she was more careful than most pros.

So if he wanted to find a rabbit, he needed someone who had already tracked her.

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Hawks landed on the roof of the building, a brief gust of wind trailing behind him as his wings tucked neatly to his back. His boots barely made a sound against the concrete as he landed on the front steps of the precinct.

The guard at the front desk blinked at him as he stepped inside. “Hawks-san?”

“Yo,” Hawks said, flashing him a grin and his ID with the same motion. “I’m looking for a certain tired-looking man with a permanent scowl and a problem with hairbrushes.”

“You mean Eraserhead?”

“I mean Eraserhead.”

The guard gestured toward the stairwell. “Holding Room C. Brought in a couple of slime-types earlier. He’s finishing paperwork.”

“Appreciate you.

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Aizawa was exactly where he always was- leaning over a desk, hair tied half-heartedly back, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and low-level disdain. I feel like I should have brought him coffee. 

Two cuffed perps sat slouched on a bench nearby, one with goo dripping from his hair.

“Rough night?” Hawks asked as he stepped in.

Aizawa didn’t look up.

“Not really. Then you showed up.”

“Ouch. That’s cold, Eraser.” Definitely should have brought coffee. 

“What do you want?”

Hawks walked up beside him and perched against the edge of the desk.

“Got a question. About a mutual friend.”

Aizawa’s pen didn’t stop moving. “You don’t have friends.”

“Again, ouch.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a small photo, sliding it across the desk.

The image was of a blurry figure crouched on a rooftop beside Aizawa, rabbit mask glinting in the moonlight. Aizawa’s pen stopped as he glanced at the image. 

“You haven’t seen her recently, have you?”

Aizawa slowly capped his pen.

“You really think I’d give her up to you? To the Commission?”

Hawks smiled, but there was steel beneath it. “No. I think you’d tell me if she was in danger. That’s all I’m asking.”

“She’s always in danger,” Aizawa said flatly. “That’s kind of her whole thing.”  

Hawks let the quiet stretch.

“You know, it’s funny.”

“What?”

“I threw a feather through her shoulder once. And I still think she trusts me more than she trusts the system.”

“That’s because she’s not stupid.”

Hawks exhaled slowly. “Thanks, Eraser. You were very helpful.”

He turned to leave.

“Don’t chase her,” Aizawa said.

Hawks paused in the doorway.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not chasing.”

His smile faded.

“I’m circling.”

“That was really corny, can you please leave now?” 

I most definitely 100% should have brought coffee. 

 

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So absolutely no help from Eraserhead.

Not that he was really expecting any. The man was a vault when it came to Veridian. If he knew her secret identity, I doubt even the commission's interrogation tactics could get it out of him. Trust, they can get anything out of anyone. 

No leads from Eraser meant he was back to square one. Which was flying blind and hoping instinct (and a healthy dose of dumb luck) would get him closer to Veridian.

Not a plan, exactly. More like… winging it. 

Ha.. aha.. get it. Get it? I’m so hilarious, this is why people love me.

Hawks shot back into the sky with a rush of wind, wings flapping against the night. Maybe she was in the usual spots- the warehouse sector, the rail line underpasses, the alleys behind that one cafe with the weird alley cats. 

Suddenly he sparked an idea. 

He clicked on his comms and tuned to the non-emergency 911 channel. It was public, monitored by the support staff and the lesser-known hero patrols, often flooded with amateur hero chatter or false alarms.

Still, if Tsukauchi wasn’t on tonight she couldn’t directly text him when she got a criminal. So she used the line. Maybe…

Just as he adjusted his comms to filter by district, he heard it.

“Ello, ello, ello, Veridian here- I have an attempted robber restrained behind the Sumida aquarium, zip-tied to a dumpster. Go easy on him, his quirk causes tremors when scared. Bit of a wet blanket. Literally. I should mention he attempted to steal a fish.”

There was a pause. 

Her voice broke through again, barely muffled static, like she was leaning too close to the mic.

“Oh! And he asked for a blanket, actually. Maybe one or two. Thanks, babes!”

A slow, lazy grin crept across Hawks’ face.

“Gotcha, bitch.”

With a flick of his wings, he shot toward the Sumida aquarium.

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Veridian’s fingers flew over her phone.

She’d dropped the guy off like a good civilian vigilante. She used zip ties and minimal bruising. Plus they had a nice supportive chat about anxiety control methods that didn’t involve kidnapping a fish for emotional support. He was sitting upright and very politely zip tied to the dumpster. 

All in all, a successful pit stop.

She opened her phone to see a text from Eraser.

Adopt me pleASE

Today 4:30 PM

 

Dadzawa: 

Hawks is on you. What did you do this time?

 

LittleBunnyVV:

bruh i lotteraeally didant do anythinag

Dadzawa: 

Are you running?

LittleBunnyVV:

Sí, i jusgave my locacisson over the nonemorgoncyou hotilaine, he meight have heurd

Dadzawa: 

Dear god. Focus on either running or typing. Pick one. Also, turn on autocorrect. 

 

LittleBunnyVV:

Ustocorect doesant work wsxhen yor smpell something too badf😘

Dadzawa: 

I am not even gonna bother trying to decode anything you just said. 

Veridian puts the phone in her pocket and focuses on running. At least for a few blocks. 

Then she vaulted up a fire escape and onto a roof and nestled herself into the space beneath a water tower. She had her legs pulled close to her chin, and swapped the texting on her phone to her HUD screen. She clicked a few buttons on the side, so it would type for her. 

 

LittleBunnyVV:

Kay I’m hiding

 

Dadzawa: 

And I’m trying to do paperwork. 

 

LittleBunnyVV:

Did hawks seem super upset or anything

 

Dadzawa: 

No. I think he just wanted to talk.

 

LittleBunnyVV:

Kay! Bye again, gn <3333

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Hawks touched down silently on the roof of the aquarium, scanning with narrowed eyes. 

There, zip-tied to a dumpster, was the attempted robber. The guy perked up when he saw Hawks’ silhouette land, feathers trailing behind him.

“Yo,” Hawks said, crouching. “She leave you comfortable?”

“She gave me almond vanilla granola,” the man said hoarsely. “But called me a ‘sad little fish man.’”

“Yeah, that sounds like her.”

Hawks looked around. There was no rabbit mask in sight. No movement, no lingering presence, just a faint smell of fish.

He stood, wings twitching once.

“Alright. Let’s see how long you want to run.”

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Hawks was fast but Veridian was unpredictable.

She didn’t stick to alleys or rooftops or roads. She twisted through construction scaffolding, running into stores then double back out after he flys in. She vaulted over a parked car by the beach just to disappear into the water below. It wasn’t that she was losing him.

It was that he didn’t know if she even knew where she was going.

And that- that was a problem.

Because Hawks was fast, and he liked being able to catch up to people. He liked knowing all their exits, all their plays. She didn’t play by any rules he knew. She didn’t run by vigilante rules, not commission rules, not civilian rules.

He sent off four feathers, each veering down a different side street. 

Nothing.

Nothing.

Footsteps.

He turned his head sharply. He definitely recognized those footsteps. 

Her.

He recalled the feathers and darted down the direction of the sound. His boots barely made a sound on the rooftop.

One turn. Two. A broken fence. A pile of crates. Just down this alley-

Just her phone.

It was lying on the pavement, cracked screen up, playing a recording of footsteps on a loop.

His eyes narrowed.

“…Really?”

 

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A whistle cut through the air behind him.

“WELL, WELL, WELL!” came her voice from the shadows, dramatically theatrical.

 

“I didn’t even hear the footsteps on the phone, I heard the ones of you hiding. Idiot.” This is true. Which is why I stopped by the park to get her a little present when I realized it was a “trap.”

Veridian rolled her eyes as Hawks slowly turned around.

“Sure, buddy. Sure. Now then,” She said, voice deadpan. “I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“Oh yeah…?” Hawks said, holding his hands behind his back and smiled sweetly, too sweetly.

Veridian took another step forward, and Hawks lifted something from behind his back like a magician.

A pigeon.

Not just any pigeon. Timmy.

One of the ones that roams around the park Veridian likes to hang at. She knows it’s Timmy because he has a neon orange wing from spray paint. 

His feathers fluffed nervously in Hawks’ hand, but he didn’t flutter away.

Veridian gasped. “NOT TIMMY.”

The sheer audacity of it made her wheeze, and she broke down in full chaotic laughter, clutching her stomach as she stepped forward with a hand over her mouth. She shuffled up to him with tears in her eyes. She scooped the phone up from the pavement and gave Timmy two apologetic pats.

“Timmy, I’m so sorry,” she muttered. “He’s too strong, Timmy. I was weak.”

 

She sighed and looked up at him, “I’m done running for tonight,” she said more softly, but still with that tone that made her sound like she might bolt any second. “Wanna get food or something and talk?”

There was a long pause. Hawks blinked and Timmy cooed.

“You’re buying,” he said, finally. 

“I swear it works every single time,” Veridian yapped, “Oh you just got the shit kicked out of you? Let's go get food! I need info on a case? I'll buy you dinner. Literally the secret to everything is food.” 

Hawks threw Timmy up in the air, and Timmy flew straight back to the park.

 

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They ended up at a takoyaki stall tucked between two office buildings. 

Veridian was half-certain she’d just convinced Japan’s Number Two hero to grab dinner. That felt like a loss but she’ll consider it a win cause food smelt really good. But her pigeon was held hostage… I’ll get my revenge on his next birthday… which I have to find out when that is. For now I know how i can get a little payback. 

“You’re buying. You’re rich.”

Hawks raised a brow. “You’re the one who broke into my house with like forty birds.”

Veridian tilted her head, unbothered. “Your honor, I plead not guilty by reason of artistic expression.”

Hawks exhaled through his nose. “Yeah, okay, Banksy. Get in line.” 

He gently pushed her into line, leaning his arm on her shoulders for a second while waving to some fans.  

Veridian insisted they buy four different sauces. Hawks added five more and paid for the entire thing with an absent flick of his card and a tip so big the stall owner had to sit down for a second.

“You’re ridiculous,” Veridian muttered, stuffing napkins into the side of the bag.

“I’m generous,” Hawks corrected. “And rich. A dangerous combo.”

They stepped out onto the sidewalk, still debating where to eat.

“Somewhere quiet.”

“Somewhere with a view.”

“Somewhere people won’t see you with an illegal vigilante," she added cheerfully.

“Somewhere you can’t run off the second I blink,” he said with a grin.

Before she could shoot back something smug, he turned and plopped the bag of food right into her arms.

“What-“

And then he was gone, with nothing but the woosh of his wings.

Only for a second though.

She barely had time to blink before she felt arms loop under her shoulders, firm and steady, a gust of wind around her ankles.

Her boots left the ground.

“HAWKS!”

“Relax, I’m a pro,” he murmured, amused. “Don’t drop the food.”

“Don’t drop me!”

He just laughed.

 

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The wind wrapped around them like a blanket, hitting her face and making her mask feel like it was about to fly off. The city lights got dimmer in her vision as they rose, faster than Veridian expected, and her arms reflexively tightened around the paper bags. How they have lasted this long is insane, they rarely last long enough to go from the car to the door. 

Being carried was very undignified for a vigilante. And extremely overstimulating. Especially when she was curled against his chest.

Warm. Too warm. She was overheating. Definitely dying.

Finally they landed.

A rooftop she didn’t recognize, but clearly a favorite. Cracked tile floor, a railing that looked like it’d seen better decades, but the view was almost unfair. The whole skyline stretched out from the beach all the way to the city. Heavy pollution turned the clouds colors from peach to deep magenta.

Hawks set her down like she weighed nothing and took the food from her arms so she didn’t drop it in case she had jelly legs.

Veridian stumbled and almost fell because she was less focused on staying upright than making sure her mask was still on. 

He caught her by the elbow.

He raised a brow. “Dizzy?”

“I hate you.”

“Just wait till you see the view.”

She didn’t answer, already taking it in. The city of Musutafu glimmered below them.

“…Okay,” she said after a moment. “You win. This is kinda perfect.”

Hawks smirked, unfolding the paper bags onto a blanket she hadn’t seen him pull out of anywhere. 

He opened up the food and handed her a skewer.

He sat cross-legged, wings stretching behind him. Veridian sat down beside him, getting out the eleven different sauces and various other sides they got. It was like a picnic! Actually, I think it is a picnic. Genius over here.

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The two had been chatting, about everything and nothing. Everything from recent cases to latest hero gossip. Somehow Veridian had more gossip then Hawks, and she wasn’t even a hero! 

“So,” she said with a mouthful of food, “this is bomb af. Official rating: six out of five stars. Also, very expensive. Also, this view? Oh my days. My good sir. You are so sweet. I can’t.”

Hawks snorted. “You talk like an internet guru.”

She smiled, beaming at him, cheeks full of food.

God, she really was-

Everything he wished he could be.

She’s free, unbranded, uncuffed. 

She saved people for her own reasons with no salary so she probably had a civilian job, no backing so she was always in danger, but no permission so she never had to hesitate before rushing in to save someone. She wasn’t bound by rules. She never had to attend a single committee meeting. Lucky bitch. Still… Everyone on the street knew the name Veridian.

The public may not truly know her, but amongst the heroes she was one of them. And she didn’t have to sell her soul to get there. It made his stomach twist.

She was what he was supposed to be.

He wasn’t sure if he hated her for it. Or if he wanted to be closer. Closer than anyone else.

He smiled, and watched her for a second. Really bad and cheesy pickup line time!

“I don’t know what’s prettier, the sky or you.”

She blinked at him, cheeks still full.

He leaned in, resting his hand casually on her thigh. Smooooooth, very smooth. A thumb brushing just slightly, not forcefully. 

There was a pause.

The kind of pause where the air starts to feel different. Where one person finally picks up what the other has been laying down for the last five minutes.

Veridian blinked again. Her whole body froze. Her eyes dropped to his hand. Then slowly, very slowly, back up to his face. 

You really are the lady’s man aren’t you?

 

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There was a second in Veridian’s mind, maybe less than that, where it clicked. Where all the little jokes and the food and the flight and the view shifted in meaning.

“Oh,” she said.

Her voice was light, not flirty or sweet. But inside, something shrieked.

He thinks I’m twenty-one. 

Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he? I wear a mask. I work like an adult. Talk like one, most of the time. My fake height didn’t help. My reputation didn’t help. I've lived more in 13 years than most people did in 30.

Okay. Deep breathes. Ha-ha. A joke. Just push it off like a joke. Like I always do.

Veridian gave him a tight little smile. She nudged his arm, lightly. A friendly tease that also put just the smallest bit of distance between them.

“Y’know,” she said, voice higher than she wanted, “I gotta say- if this is how you treat all your dates, you’re gonna go broke on takeout.” 

1. NO YOU DUMB BITCH. NOW YOU BASICALLT ADMITTED THAT THIS IS A DATE WHY THE FUCK-

 

He chuckled quietly, but he was just watching her with that dumb smile.

His hand was still resting on her thigh. It was light and very present. He was looking at her like the city wasn’t lit up behind her, like she was the damn skyline.

She swallowed.

Her jaw plate had been popped off enough to eat, jaw and cheeks fully visible in the low rooftop glow. She laughed slightly and covered her face, just to feel even a slight sense of protection. She’d forgotten it was down. Or maybe she hadn’t. Either way, he could see her now and she didn’t like how he was looking at her. 

Maybe the way she had too pointy of a nose, her slightly yellow teeth, what if the bottom half of her scar was poking out and he had an identifiable feature to arrest h- 

( The galaxy of freckles. The soft curve of her face. The way she giggled and immediately covered her mouth like she was hiding. A curl of hair brushing her cheek. Hawks committed all of it to memory. )

He leaned in further, one hand stabilizing himself by being planted behind her back. His voice dipped as he got closer. 

“And what if I told you-”

His hand shifted slightly, fingers brushing the inside of her knee.

“-you’re the only one I’ve ever brought this high up?”

Her stomach twisted.

Okay. No. No, I don’t know how to stop him. I can’t- I don’t know I’m scared and why is he still-

He was still staring.

Oh god. He’s going to kiss me.

She laughed- or tried to. But it cracked on the way out.

“Sooo,” she started, leaning slightly away without making it look like she was, “You know I’m still emotionally married to my kindergarten husband-”

Hawks didn’t let the joke land.

One hand slid around her waist, gentle but confident. The other lifted, reaching up to her cheek like something straight out of a drama. He brushed the curl, taking its job of caressing her cheek.

His eyes were soft. Too soft. Still staring at her.

She panicked.

He was close enough that she could smell the cologne on his collarbone, something expensive and faintly citrusy, like bottled golden hour.

His voice dropped to that smug whisper he probably used in interviews and alleyways and hotel bars. He said something but she couldn’t hear it over the ringing in her ears. Too close. His wings shifted behind him, practically closing around them. His breath was warm. He closed his eyes. 

“Wait,” her voice broke.

And when he didn’t stop- to fucking close.

“THIRTEEN.”

He froze.

Not dramatically or slowly.

He just… stopped.

His body went still, like someone hit pause on a remote.

 

“…What?”

Veridian’s hands trembled in her lap. She didn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

“I am…” her voice cracked. “I am thirteen.”

 

In the span of a second, a gust of feathers and wind shot past her so fast it left her hair fluttering behind. Hawks was suddenly ten feet away, crouched on the opposite ledge of the roof like he’d touched a live wire.

“What the-”

His voice was ragged and terror filled. He didn’t finish the sentence.

He stared at her like he’d just been told she had contagious cancer or something. 

“You’re-”

His fingers shook. “Thirteen?”

She gave a jerky nod, eyes wide. “Yeah. Yeah. Not uh, not super obvious I guess, huh?”

He blinked. Hard.

Then again. Then again.

“Holy shit.” His voice was faint. “Holy- holy shit.”

“I’m not twenty-one, I’m not a college dropout, I’m not even in high school yet, I’m literally- I just- I haven’t even gotten my learner’s permit, dude.” she blurted. 

“I thought you were twenty one!”

He stopped himself.

“Everyone does!” She slightly shouted. “That’s the point!”

He looked like he wanted to be sick.

“Everyone thinks I’m twenty-one,” she said quickly, rambling. “Because of the suit, and the reputation, and the voice distortion in the mask. They thought I was seventeen when i started and it's been four years so people just assumed twenty one and I didn’t correct them and then it kept going and I figured it was safer if people thought I was older and-”

“I almost flirted with a middle schooler.”

“You did flirt with a middle schooler.”

He grabbed his hair with both hands and turned in a tight circle, muttering something in another language under his breath. Veridian recognised it slightly as Hakata. So she knew he was REALLY panicking. 

“I’m sorry,” Veridian said, miserably. “I swear I wasn’t trying to catfish you or something. I don’t- I don’t think like that.”

“I grabbed your leg. I caressed your cheek. I tried to kiss you.”

“You did. That happened. Not great. In the past.”

“I’m gonna have to turn myself in. That’s it. This is the end of Hawks.”

Veridian gave a dry little snort. “At least pick a cool mugshot pose.”

He looked at her, eyes still wide with panic. Slowly, he dropped to a crouch, wings slumped behind him.

“Thirteen…” he whispered again. “You’re a kid.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

 

She suddenly felt like a kid again.

Not Veridian.

Not the Vigilante that invoked safety and fear. Not the one that was smart and cool and lots of people liked. 

Just Viví. A thirteen year old weird quirkless freak of nature. 

 

“I’m gonna-” he jerked a thumb toward the skyline, “go get hit by traffic, real quick. Is that chill?”

“Please don’t,” she deadpanned. “I don't feel like calling an ambulance.”

Veridian let her head fall back onto the blanket and groaned.

“God, I need to start telling people I’m in middle school.”

“YEA. YEA YOU DO.”

     <(● )

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Thirteen. 13. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13. 

1 mississippi 2 mississippi 3 mississippi 4 mississippi 5 mississippi 6 mississippi 7 mississippi 8 mississippi 9 mississippi 10 mississippi 11 mississippi  12 mississippi 13 fucking mississippi. 

I flirted with a fucking thirteen year old. I have to pay my penance or some shit, go like… go donate all my money to an orphanage. 

Is she an orphan, where the hell are her parents!! Wait if shes thirteen, shes been doing this four years OH MY FUCK SHES BEEN DOING THIS SHIT SINCE SHE WAS NINE???? 

 

…

 

She was the same age as when I joined the commission. 

She's only ten year… four. She's only four years younger than me. 

Hawks looked up to get a good look at her. She had been forced to tell him her secret cause he was going to kiss- i’d rather forget about that part. But the message still stood. She was forced to tell him her age. She wasn't able to trust him with that information, so he forced it out of her. He was no better than the commission. Time for him to repay her.

Veridian sat stiff on the blanket, spine locked, breath shallow. 

Across from her, Hawks stood near the edge of the building like the wind might blow him right off. He looked ready to bolt- or fall. Maybe both.

They didn’t speak.

She gave him a minute or two to think. 

 

Hawks said something way too quiet to catch. The sound was almost lost beneath a distant train horn.

“Hm?”

“Seventeen,” he said again, louder.

She blinked, assuming he was referencing her younger age. “No, I’m thirteen.”

His eyes finally met hers. “No- I meant I’m seventeen.”

 

He ran a hand through his hair, feathers twitching like live wires behind him. “’Japan’s Youngest Pro Hero,’ right? Doesn’t have the same impact when the hero’s still technically a teenager. So the Commission tells everyone I’m twenty-three. Makes me seem more legal.”

He offered her a crooked smile. “Your lie protects your identity. Mine protects my brand.”

Veridian’s jaw moved, but no sound came out. That... was not what she expected.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

“Why did you ?”

There was a beat.

Then he let out a small, broken laugh. “Because I was being a predator.”

Veridian grimaced. “Hey you didn’t know, and apparently you weren’t because you're seventeen so-“

Before she could pivot the moment with her bad joke, Hawks dropped to the ground hard.

He sank down, elbows on his knees, hands running into his hair like he could scrub the panic out. His wings curled close around him.

“I wasn’t supposed to say that,” he muttered, voice cracking. “The Commission would kill me. I wasn’t even supposed to think about telling anyone. If they find out I said anything they could strip me of everything-“

His voice trailed and his shoulders trembled.

Veridian’s heart twisted watching him begin to have a panic attack. She stood and crossed to him quickly, crouching beside him with careful movements.

She placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey. It’s okay. They won’t find out.”

He didn’t look up.

She leaned in, voice gentle now. “You’re a good hero, Hawks. They need you. And even if I wanted to tell someone… I couldn’t.”

He glanced sideways, red-ringed eyes locking onto hers.

“Why?”

She smiled crookedly. “Because you know my age. So. Mutually assured destruction.”

He stared. Then snorted- a real laugh this time, short and stunned.

“That… actually makes me feel better. Thanks.”

She plopped back onto the blanket beside him and nudged his elbow.

“Now. Wanna finish the non-date?”

Hawks chuckled softly. “Yeah. Why not.”

A beat passed, then Veridian squinted.

“So wait. Why’d you freak out so hard when I said I’m thirteen if you’re only seventeen?”

“Reflex,” Hawks muttered, “Sometimes I forget I’m seventeen.”

“You don’t even look it. Like… at all.”

“Testosterone. Looooots of testosterone.”

“Ah.”

She reached down and tapped her boots- bright red with a thick sole.

“Very tall shoes,” Hawks noted. “Helps with height.” He stuck out his own heeled boots. He didn't exactly need help with height but he did like the extra inch. 

“Not just that.” She clicked a hidden button. A short pipe shot from the heel, like a support spike. “Anchors into pavement during wind quirks. Or makes me look taller than your average middle schooler. My brother got all the height between us.”

“You have a brother?”

“...............No…………?”

She sighed, flopping backward and gazing up at the stars.

“Recently I told this kid I kidnapped that I trust people way too easily. Now the second I share the smallest thing with you I'm like, ‘Oh I have a brother and my mom is a nurse and I don't have any allergies except apples but not real apples specifically the apples they put in the fake apple juice boxes and blah blah blah.’ I really need to keep working on not sharing personal things with people I barely know.”

“Im.. gonna ignore the kidnapping part for my own peace of mind. And the part about your entire family for your piece of mind. And the apple part because I just don't have anything to say on that. But, I can see the fact that you're learning to stop trusting everyone but also trust new people. Well, a few years ago I wouldn't have. No one was even able to see you a few years ago, but now if there is a working coffee machine in the break room nine times out of ten you'll be found there.”

“I’ve been working on it,” she said. “Which is why I’m not going to tell you my name.”

“Okay.”

“Yep. I’m learning.”

“Don’t tell me,” Hawks said quietly. “Because if the Commission ever tried to get it out of me with their methods… I don’t think I could stop them.”

Veridian raised an eyebrow. “Their methods ?”

“Oh hey, look at the time!” Hawks was suddenly on his feet, clearing the entire picnic into one neat bag with a blur of motion. “Would you look at that? Time flies.”

He extended a hand. “I can drop you anywhere. Free of charge.”

“I’d actually rather die than fly with you again.”

She popped her mask back on, gave him finger guns, and bounded off the rooftop into the night.

Right where she jumped off was a piece of paper, with a number on it. Not Veridian’s number for police and other heroes, but her personal one. Viví’s number.

Notes:

I understand how I wrote the scene. “OMG HAWKS WAS ABOUT TO ASSAULT HER.” No, he was not. The scene is from Veridian’s pov, so she is dramatizing and over analysing every single thing, also most of the things she did would be seen (from an outside perspective) as a slight push and pull/being a little flirty. Keep in mind, she has had a single boyfriend ever, from KINDER-GARDEN. She has also been slightly shunned from society so she has zero experience being genuinely asked out or how to reject someone.

Also the kindergarten boyfriend was not a throwaway comment, that does come back later 😛.

Chapter 10: What’s up, Brother ☝️🤓

Summary:

Shinso finds out something hes not supposed too, then veridian introduces him to aizawa! We also meet three of the Erasermic cats. 3/12 found.

Notes:

I’ve decided the story is set in, drum roll please, 2225! Yes. Applaud me. Also, the amount of math I had to do was appalling, genuinely hurt my brain.
So Viví and Izuku’s birthday are 2212, July 15th!

You ever lose a staring contest to a cardboard cut out of all might with cat ears drawn on and a feathered boa? Never thought I would, but here I am. 

 

Shinso sat with one knee pulled to his chest, headphones in his ears and the feathered boa hanging loose around his neck ( What. I was salty about losing. ), some MSI playing. He wasn't really listening to it. He just kept it there like background noise for his thoughts.

He hadn’t slept again. There is just too much in his head. Too much that didn’t make sense. Like this girl.

Viví Midoriya.

This blunt-force trauma of a person who pushed him around and called herself a genius and gave him a place to sleep like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t some random loser kid with a villain quirk and a duffle bag full of regrets. He had been staying for about a week and his anxiety has been steadily growing. 

Something about Viví was off. She saved him but she was hiding something. Nobody would take someone off the street and into their home without some sort of ulterior motive. After staying in what felt like a hundred different houses, and a few group homes, Shinso has learned to read people. She is hiding something, but other than that one single thing everything about her seems genuine. 

She hadn’t flinched when he used his quirk on her in the alleyway. She hadn’t judged him when he told her he was homeless. Or accused him of being ungrateful when she found him awake in the middle of the night crying in the kitchen two nights ago. Or looked at him with even a second of fear every time he got silent or snappy. 

She didn’t even flinch when responding to his questions. 

He’s had homes put muzzles on him for saying hello, and then this girl comes in and answers his questions like they are normal and not something that could render her brainwashed! 

What the hell was he supposed to do with that? 

And how the hell was he supposed to explain this to the foster system when they inevitably came looking?

“Yeah sorry, I got taken in by some girl who lives in an apartment with her twin brother whose mom basically neglects them but it's lowkey the safest house I've ever been in. Can I keep staying here? Please?”

He closed his eyes for a second to feel the cool breeze on his face from the cracked window. It was these quiet moments that the anxiety crept up on him ( if you couldn’t already tell ), but it was also the moments where it could be the lowest. He just needed to breathe. 

Shhh-thk.

 

Huh?

A soft sliding noise came from the window beside the room he's staying in. 

He opened one eye, turned his head toward the window into Viví’s room.

Shinso blinked.

What . The. Fuck.

Viví. 

Except not Viví?

Viví wearing a rabbit mask.

She was crawling into the window with the grace of a drunk college guy sneaking back into his parents house. She muttered something under her breath as she paused, checked the belt at her hip, and visibly cursed when she realized she’d forgotten something. Her foot kicked wildly in the air as she reached inside, half of her torso gone, the rest of her hanging out of the window.

She finally wriggled her way back out- arms filled with papers that looked like police files- and turned around right into his face. Shinso had leaned too far out the window and was half outside, one hand clinging to the frame, the other on the side of the building keeping him from falling out.

They locked eyes. Or, well, her mask eyes locked with his.

A long beat of silence. 

“…Hey.” Viví’s voice came out slightly distorted, deeper than her normal voice but clearly panicked.

Shinso just stared. “Bunny?”

Viví stared back.

Then groaned, loudly, and hit her head onto the side of the window. 

“You weren’t supposed to see this.”

Shinso blinked again. “Who are you?”

Viví tilted her head like a dog caught in a lie. “Viví?”

“YOU’RE VERIDIAN.” he hissed as it finally clicked. “The one everyone says is fake! That half the police force is tracking! The one that pranked everyone on… on you and Izuku’s birthday.” I knew she was hiding something. I suppose this is what it was. Not at ALL what I thought it was gonna be. 

She paused and held up a finger.

“…Technically the police have given up trying to track me.”

Shinso gawked at her. “You’re-”

She reached forward and yanked him back inside by the collar. “Alright, moment’s over. Get in here.”

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━  

 

The rabbit mask got tossed onto the counter, clattering slightly. Viví hopped up onto the counter next to it. Shinso sat down in the chair in front of her, leaning his face on the counter and letting out a huge sigh. 

Viví gave him a few seconds while she sipped the Pacific Cooler juice pouch, btw worst flavor out of all of them. It’s like the orange popsicle of Capri-Suns. It’s just awful. 

Shinso let out another huge sigh. 

 

“…You okay there, bud?” she finally asked, resting a gentle hand on his head. He flinched, duh bro is like an abused cat or something, and let out a third sigh.

“You’re Veridian.”

She made a so-so gesture with the juice box. “Technically.”

“The Veridian.”

“You’ve said that three times now.”

“The one that cracked open that one huge underground drug ring last month. You saved me last week… The one that used to be hunted down. The one-” 

“It’s like 1AM,” she deadpanned, setting it down on the counter, “I also just had a very awkward talk with hawks, can’t you just sleep this off?” Hes not even saying anything. Just pointing random things out. Like, Joe you need SLEEP. PLEASE. 

He didn’t want to sleep it off apparently. “You?! You’re Veridian? You?!”

“Yeah. I know. Shocking. Would you like a Capri Sun or do you want to keep having an existential crisis?”

Shinso sat up a bit, and shook her hand out of his hair before finally getting a good look at her. “You’ve gotta start from the top.”

She nodded and drained the juice box. “Okay. But I’m not giving you everything. I still need to keep my mysterious aura.”

“Great. Love that for me.”

Viví sighed, placing her hands on the counter behind her and leaning on them. “I started when I was nine. Damn, second time tonight I’ve had to talk about this.”

“Nine?”

“Yup.”

Shinso made a noise between a whistle and a yeesh.

“Everyone who knows about Veridian thinks she started when she was seventeen, the first ever news report said she was at least nineteen. That was when I was eleven though, I had a voice changer and heeled shoes at this point. But nah. Started in  2221. Mostly just running around and analysing hero fights or jumping off roofs.”

“…What?”

“I made most of my jumps."

“WHAT!”

She grinned. “Hm… what other facts are important.. oh! Back then I was like, super strict. Never took my mask off. Balaclava under it and hair in a hair net. Full black body suit so they couldn’t even tell what color I was. Though they did just assume black for a little while. Racist much? White girls can be vigilantes too, you know? Gloves so I didn’t leave finger prints. I didn’t even speak. Granted I hadn’t built the voice box into the mask, but even so I wouldn’t engage with pro heroes at all. Actually, I ran the second I heard sirens.”

Shinso blinked at her for a moment. Nowadays Veridian would be spotted in the back of people’s photos giving them bunny ears or breaking into heroes houses to make them breakfast for TikTok. “Why?”

“Because I had to care,” she said, a little quieter. “I couldn’t get caught. I couldn’t leave evidence. I thought it was the only way I could keep doing what I was doing.”

Shinso was quiet for a moment. Viví grabbed another juice box and tossed it at him. He caught it, barely.

“But now?” she shrugged, sipping. “I’m tired. I work alongside the cops half the time. I get patched up by heroes. I use police scanners. I get little anonymous thank-you cards.”

“…Isn’t that good?”

“Sure. Feels fake sometimes, though.” She leaned back in her chair. “The Hero Commission keeps sending me rehab offers.”

Shinso blinked. “Wait. Like the villain/vigilante rehab program?”

“Yeah.”

“And you said no?!”

Viví’s eyebrow twitched. “I think they’d kick me out.”

“Why?”

She didn’t answer for a second. She just  chewed on the straw in her pouch.

“…Because I’m quirkless,” she said, finally.

Shinso’ nodded in understanding. But he didn’t get it. Not really. 

Shinso stared. “You’re… you’re quirkless, but you’ve survived being a vigilante for years. They wouldn’t do that just because your… you know…”

“Yea. Yea they would.”

“They should make documentaries about you.”

“Already started writing one. I’m gonna publish on AO3 it under the pseudonym  ‘Endeavor’s left nut sack.’ People are gonna love it.”

He shook his head, ignoring the words that just came out of her mouth.  “I have so many questions.”

Viví leaned forward, her grin lazy and lopsided. “Hit me.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

Viví gave him a look. “Shinso.”

“Okay. Would you?”

She paused, then said softly, “Only if I had to.”

“Worst thing you ever did to a hero?”

“Threw salt in Eraser’s eyes.”

“Worst thing a hero ever did to you?”

“Throw a fucking pigeon at me.”

“If you could share your identity without consequences would you?” 

“…no. No I don’t think I would.”

Shinso nodded. “Okay.”

Viví blinked. “That’s it?”

“I’m still terrified of you. But like. Respectfully terrified.”

She laughed. “That’s valid.”

“So now you know,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “You wanna run? Try to turn me in? Maybe we could go get ice cream and play catch instead of either of those two options?”

Shinso thought for a long moment.

Then peeled the straw wrapper off his juice box and stabbed it in.

“I still think you’re insane.”

Viví raised a brow.

“…But you’re the first person who’s ever looked at my quirk and didn’t see a villain.”

Her face softened, just slightly.

“So I guess we’re even. You don’t look at me like a villain, I don’t look at you like your a vigilante. Your a hero.”

“Woah woah woah, I appreciate the sentiment but I am a vigilante. I know a lot of people may think “oh but vigilantism is the act of using one’s quirk to do heroing without a license” but I still commit a fuck ton of other crimes. You can save the hero title for yourself.”

Shinso slurped the last of his juice box empty, still staring at Viví like he was trying to decode her very existence.

And then he blurted it out:

“You are seriously so fucking cool.”

Viví raised an eyebrow, not at all expecting that. 

“Please, please, teach me how to fight at some point. Like- actually. I know I asked before, and I just assumed you knew the basics but you actually fight people like on the daily. I wanna do what you do. You know stuff. Well, you know stuff about fighting. You don’t really know stuff about socializing”

Viví snorted, leaning her elbow on the counter and watching him with a slowly spreading grin.

“Well look who’s talking,” she said, and she was still weighing the idea, “but…. I still have patrol tonight. Never actually got to make my rounds because I was being hunted by Hawks. I also have to go drop off papers at the police department, which I forgot to do before I even went out. But I can do that another day.”

Shinso’s eyes widened. “Wait. Seriously?”

“Hell yea, brother.” She hopped off the counter, stretching her arms over her head. “Let’s go find you a mask and some cool little gadgets, then we’ll hit the roofs. I’ll teach you the basics; defending, attacking, sneaking, what gear you should be using, the whole starter pack.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’d never joke about teaching someone how to keep themselves safe.”

Shinso’s jaw slackened just enough to look absolutely stunned.

“Get up, come on.” Viví started toward her room, waving for him to follow. “I think I have an old utility belt that might fit you if we cinch it tight. You’re scrawny.”

“I’m wiry.”

“Sure, buddy, sure. Now let’s get you vigilante-fied.”

Shinso followed partly out of awe, and partly because she was already halfway down the hallway without him.

Somewhere between digging through her cute cotton masks and her giving him a ponytail that wouldn’t fall out while running and jumping a lot he realized something.

He really, really didn’t want this life to be temporary.

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Veridian sips from a stolen thermos of iced coffee, her hood up, jawplate of her mask detached and hanging from one ear like a lopsided helmet. Her legs dangle over the edge of the building, one knee bouncing.

Next to her, Shinso tries- tries- to mimic the same perch.

But he’s not a percher. His center of gravity is tragically against him. He wobbles around and struggles. He sort of crouches in what looks more like someone trying to poop in the woods.

“You look like you’re trying to lay an egg,” Veridian deadpans.

“I am trying,” Shinso mutters through clenched teeth.

They sit in silence for a beat.

“Be honest,” Veridian says, tipping her cup toward him. “What are you thinking right now.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I mean,” she waves her hand vaguely, “I just told you I’m a random vigilante, I kind of kidnapped you a week ago, possibly committed a felony or two, and I can’t remember what else, but probably a few other illegal things.”

Shinso sips his coffee. “I dunno… you seem more genuine.”

“Huh.”

“You’re nonchalant.”

“Nonchalant dreadhead.”

Shinso glares. “Sure. But you… I don’t know. You’re very special-“

“My mommy says I’m special,” she says with a grin.

“Let me guess,” Shinso says dryly. “She makes you ride the short bus?”

“No,” Veridian replies. “The abnormally tall bus. Just like me. I’m abnormally tall.”

Shinso stares at her. Flat. Deadpan. “Uh-huh. Right. Clearly.”

He’s at least a foot taller than her.

She squints. “I will push you off this roof.”

“Sure,” he shrugs. “That’s another thing. You don’t seem like the type to try and kill me. You did save my life. So if you did kill me, I think karma would balance out.”

Veridian raises a brow. “Yes. Me saving you with my awesome fighting skills. That’s exactly what we came here to do.”

“I’ve also noticed,” Shinso says, brushing dirt off his knees, “you’re incredibly scatterbrained. ADHD.”

She gasps, offended. “I happen to be 100% neurotypical, thank you very much.”

“Again…” He sips his coffee. “Clearly.”

She swings around and punches him- right in the gut. Not too hard but just enough to catch him off guard.

He huffs, blinks, tries not to throw up, and smiles.

“First up,” Veridian says smugly, straightening her posture like a sensei. “How to block a punch.”

Shinso coughs, grinning despite himself.

“Great,” he says. “Lesson one. Assault.”

Veridian beams. “You’re gonna do great, Robin.”

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Training sucks. But also, it’s the best thing I’ve ever done.

It’s a mess of movement. Veridian dragging Shinso through every basic thing she can think of. He does rooftop sprints which leaves him panting. Fire escapes as monkey bars that make his arms burn. Quick jabs in alley shadows which gets him hit in every part of his body. Shoulder rolls in a parking garage. Shinso biffs it six times. Then five. Then three. Then once.

She beams every time he gets better.

They’re jogging along a row of storefronts when Veridian suddenly stops short, causing Shinso to almost ram into her back.

She points upward with both fingers. “Is that a wild Eraserhead I spot? Quick! Where’s my pokeball!”

Shinso looks up and freezes, while Veridian is searching her toolbelt.

Hanging upside-down by his capture scarf, just swaying from the streetlamp like a possum, is Eraserhead.

Eraser narrows his eyes, glaring at the two like he’s trying to decide if its worth it to engage with them or just leave. Veridian snickers, and gets a small pokeball keychain out of her toolbelt and throws it at him. He grabs it, and throws it right back. 

“I see you made a friend,” he says dryly. “Didn’t know you were capable of that.”

“Oh don’t be jealous,” Veridian chirps. “He’s just my side piece.” She winks and shoots him double finger guns. She throws it at him again, aiming for his face.

Shinso, completely red-faced now, “I’m right here. Also. What are you guys doing?”

Eraser stares blankly. Then slowly retracts his scarf and lowers himself to the sidewalk.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t drag you both into the station right now.”

“Uhh,” Shinso offers weakly, “please don’t?”

“You can drag me in,” Veridian says, throwing a thumb at herself. “That’s fine. He hasn’t done anything. I’ve been teaching him how to fight!”

Eraserhead pauses, and tilts his head at Shinso. 

“…Teaching him to fight?” Eraserhead repeats.

“Yessir!” she says proudly. “Been using what you taught me. He’s applying to UA. Going for the hero course.”

Without missing a beat, “Why are you hanging out with middle schoolers?”

Shinso opens his mouth. Regrets it instantly. “She found me getting beat up and kidnapped me.”

Veridian gasps. “No! That’s not.. well. Okay, that’s technically what happened. But I met him like, a week ago and he already knows my deepest trauma and also my secret identity.”

Aizawa sighs and turns to Shinso, deadpan. “Care to share with the class?”

“I’m no snitch,” Shinso says immediately.

“Good. I don’t teach snitches how to fight.”

Veridian explodes. “GASP. IS THIS WHAT I THINK IT IS???”

Shinso sighed, “I’m scared.”

Veridian practically skips. “Oh my god oh my god oh my GOD, like three years ago, this man taught me how to fight. And now,”

Eraserhead drops to the concrete beside them.

“I’m gonna teach you how to fight,” he says to Shinso. “Because if Veridian trusts you, then chances are you’ll end up in danger sooner or later.”

Veridian practically squeals, “Aww! Say it again. Slower.”

Aizawa rolls his eyes and starts walking.

“Let’s go,” he mutters. “If she’s taught you the basics there is a good chance your sloppy. I’m gonna fix that, or you’ll end up in a mortuary.”

As they trail behind him, Veridian’s still grinning ear to ear.

“God, I love it when he threatens like that.”

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

They end up in the back of a long-abandoned school gym. The kind with dust-stained windows and broken tile patches and enough drafty air to make their breath fog.

Aizawa drops his duffel bag without ceremony. It lands with a dull thud. We did a quirk pit stop so he could get training equipment like punch pad thingys and a first aid kit.

Shinso shifts on his feet beside Veridian, who’s now spinning her coffee thermos like it’s a baton. The jaw plate is reattached, hiding her grin. 

“Rule one,” Aizawa declares, “don’t look impressive. Be impressive.”

Shinso blinks.

Veridian mutters, “That’s his version of a warm welcome.”

“Rule two,” Aizawa continues, not bothering to look up, “you’ll learn by doing. This is the only lecture. There will be no pacing, Absolutly zero bouncy motivational speeches,” He side eyes Veridian, “You hit. You get hit. And you’ll remember.”

“God I missed this,” Veridian stage-whispers.

“Rule three,” Aizawa finishes, pulling his hair into a loose tie and cracking his neck, “don’t die.”

He nods to Shinso.

“Come at me.”

Shinso does a full double-take. “Wait. Right now?”

“Did I stutter?”

Shinso glances at Veridian, who offers a double thumbs-up and backs away like she’s expecting him to attack her instead. “Don’t worry, he only hurts you physically not emotionally!”

Shinso steps forward, trying to remember what she’d shown him on the rooftops. He leads with his left foot… bad choice. Aizawa grabs his elbow mid-motion and flips him. It’s not elegant or dramatic. It’s efficient. Twas a little bit dramatic. Shinso’s fucking face was priceless. I swear I saw him reach for me.

Shinso hits the mat with a groan.

“Wrong foot,” Aizawa says simply. “Again.”

 

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Two hours in, Shinso’s hoodie is tied around his waist, his shirt is sweat-soaked, and his knuckles are raw from getting up so much. Not from punching, he hasn’t gotten a single hit so far. He has gotten hit a lot. 

Veridian perched on the folded bleachers, redoing her braid for the sixth time now, occasionally tossing Shinso pointers.

“Lean into the roll, not away from it. Don’t fight gravity, fight Eraser.”

“Drop your shoulder on the punch or he’ll throw you like that again.”

“No offense but your stance looks like a… I can’t think of a comparison. That’s how you know it’s bad.”

To Shinso’s credit, he’s learning. By the end of the third hour, he ducks Aizawa’s strike, twists to the left, and plants his heel into the older man’s thigh, not enough to knock him down, but enough to land a hit.

Aizawa grunts and nods.

“Good. Better.”

He turns to Veridian. “You weren’t wrong. He’s a quick study.”

She beams. “See? Told you. He’d be the perfect mentee.”

“You never said that.” 

“No but I thought it.” 

Eraser turns to Shinso, and Veridian steps away to give them a moment to speak. 

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

“You did well,” Aizawa says, voice low enough it barely qualifies as praise.

Shinso straightens up a little. He doesn’t say anything.

“I mean it.”

“You're going to apply to UA, and you're going to get in.”

It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to him.

Veridian swings by and drapes an arm over Shinso’s shoulders. He winces, and shrugs her off.

She pats his chest with one finger. “Heroics course here you come!” 

Shinso rolls his eyes. Eraser looks down at Veridian, and Veridian steps up to him with her arms out. 

“Come on, bring it in.” 

 

He bolts for the exit.

Shinso watches him go, then glances sideways at Veridian.

“…That was actually kind of amazing.”

She grins, smug as hell. “He’s wonderful. Like the father I never had.”

Shinso side eyes Veridian, who is now staring longingly at the door, before shaking his head. 

“Vi- er. Veridian?”

“Yeah?”

He shifts, a bit sheepish.

“Thanks. For… y’know. All of it.”

She shrugs. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Don’t. It will inflate my ego way too much.” 

“Oh, also, does any one else know about,” He gestures to her in the rabbit mask.

“No. You are the only person. Well, Hawk’s knows about my age. Because of a very awkward chat earlier.” 

“Do I wanna know?”

“I’ll tell you when your older, hito- er Shinso.”

“Nah, you can call me Hitoshi.” 

“Awee, now that’s going straight to my ego!”

The two walked home, Hitoshi leaning on her for support and Viví offering way to many times to just give him a piggy back ride.

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The sun felt wrong on her mask.

Veridian tugged her hood farther forward, one hand deep in her coat pocket as she tapped her fingers together. Day patrol wasn’t her thing, people could see her. Cameras could catch details the shadows usually hid. But whatever. She had a mission. 

The automatic doors of the precinct hissed open and she made her way down the too-bright halls. Everything looks so weird during the daytime, I can actually read the plaques on the walls. Her boots squeaked on the waxed floor. Every officer she passed pretended not to look. She appreciated that.

Tsukauchi’s office door was cracked slightly, light spilling out. She knocked once. Just enough to announce herself.

“Yo, you’re early-” Hawks stopped mid-sentence as she stepped in.

Veridian bowed respectfully, her voice smooth through the voice modulator. “Number Two.”

Hawks smirked. “Veridian.”

He gave a casual bow in return. Veridian’s heart did not race. Hawk’s heart did not race. Nope.

Tsukauchi didn’t even look up from his desk. “What do you want, kid?”

“I need an address.”

Hawks raised an eyebrow. Tsukauchi sighed.

“Can’t you just hack into that?”

“I could. Shouldn’t. But could.” She leaned on the desk, fingers tapping rhythmically. “Eraser told me once I could crash at his place if I needed, way back when. Problem is, I don’t remember where that was.”

Tsukauchi finally looked up. Narrowed his eyes. “You forget? I thought you had a photographic memory.”

“I don’t. But I almost never forget things. Usually I forget unimportant details like that.” Her voice wobbled for a second, just a fraction. “It’s just… fuzzy.”

Tsukauchi clicked his pen, scribbled something on a yellow sticky note, and slid it across the desk.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“I’ll make you proud.” She snatched the note.

And before he could scowl too hard, she hugged him. A real hug. Not the one-armed slap-on-the-back crap. A genuine squeeze.

Tsukauchi let out a breath. Then reluctantly he hugged her back. 

“I better not get a call saying you broke into his laundry room again,” he muttered.

“Once,” she whispered dramatically, backing out of the room with a mock air kiss and a wink. “It happened once.”

She gave Hawk’s a fake kiss, like the one the French do, on the way out. He rolled his eyes but smiled. Tsukauchi raised an eyebrow but said nothing and went back to his work.

 

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

It was a very nice apartment complex. They even had a security guard! She scaled over the side so she didn’t need to worry about him though. She got to the number on the note. She knocked once, quick and sharp.

The door opened almost immediately.

Veridian blinked up into a beam of sunshine and the wide grin of-

“Present Mic?”

He looked just as startled. “Hoo boy, wasn’t expecting you.”

Veridian took a step back, her mask tilting slightly. “I- sorry. I was looking for Eraserhead. I think I might have the wrong address.”

“Wrong?” Present Mic laughed and leaned against the doorframe. “No no, you’re at the right place. He lives here too!”

“Oh. Didn’t know you guys lived together.” Her shoulders relaxed a little, even if she was still unsure how to react.

“Come on in,” he said, stepping aside and waving her through. “He’s probably passed out in bed. I’ll try and wake him.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

She stepped into the living room, and Present Mic gestured to the couch.

“Make yourself at home. He’ll take a minute to wake up.” 

She nodded and lowered herself onto the edge of the couch, mask still on, gloved hands fidgeting.

She hated the sun. Hopefully this will be worth it.

She pulled her legs to her chest and took in her surroundings. The place was cozy in a lived-in, worn-sweater kind of way. Soft rugs, warm lighting, a guitar on a stand in the corner, and a mug tree that held exactly two mugs. One shaped like a cat, and one covered in tiny skulls. 

Three pride flags hung across the far wall like banners: a pan flag, and a nonbianary flag. Mic used he/him pronouns for Eraser so that would make Mic the enby! I’m so observant. 

Photos lined the living room. 

Quite a few featured Midnight. A very cute one was at a bar, her laughing with a microphone in one hand. 

There was a wedding photo on the mantle under the TV. Mic wore an electric yellow and had his hair all the way down and perfectly done. Eraser looked exactly the same as he did now, just in a tie... and supporting a smile. 

Right next to that one was a grainy photo that showed the two of them as teenagers, standing beside a third man with pale, wispy hair, who she didn’t recognize, but something about the photo made her chest twinge. 

On a shelf by one of the windows sat a miniature shrine of sorts: a dozen framed photos of cats, one of a fox, all of them labeled with names in blocky marker. A few photos were turned downward, placed beside old bells and tiny toys. Veridian felt the stillness of it, a kind of reverence. She didn’t go over to touch anything, even though she wanted to get a batter look.

She was back on the couch staring at the door when something soft brushed beneath her chin. Her whole body stilled. A fluffy orange tail began aggressively smacking her in the shoulder.

Veridian twisted, and found herself nose-to-nose with a red-orange cat who looked like a shrimp in cat form. Long body, curled tail, and fur puffed. Before she could react, a calico leapt onto the couch beside her and smacked a paw against her mask. “Yo!” she protested, holding up both hands. “Personal space-“

A  third cat appeared. This one was a sleek Siamese with one eye. They crawled straight into her lap, kneaded once, and made herself comfortable.

Eraserhead shuffled into the living room wearing neon pink sweats, a black t-shirt, and the most suspicious look a man could manage. His hair was in a messy bun but also half-down, like he gave up mid way, he walked over and waved his hands at the cats, “Shrimp. Cali. Sammy. Out. Off, go on.” he muttered.

Shrimp slunk away with a tail flick. Cali gave her one last dramatic side-eye before hopping down. But Sammy stayed. Curled up and purred like Viví’s lap was her rightful throne.

Veridian smiled softly beneath the mask, fingers gently stroking the sleek fur behind the cat’s ears. Her gloved hand paused briefly over the missing eye. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Same.”

“…I’ve never seen you in the light of day,” Eraser said slowly, scratching the side of his face and rubbing his eyes.

“Could say the same about you,” she replied evenly. She continued to pet the cat but gave Eraser her attention.

He grunted and dropped into the armchair across from her, studying her in the quiet way he always did- like every tick and shift of her fingers meant something.

“Is everything alright?”

“Kinda,” Veridian said, tone a touch hesitant. “My friend… the one from last night. He’s in a bit of a situation, and I’m not sure what to do.”

Eraserhead raised an eyebrow. “I figured he wasn’t exactly safe, considering you had me training him to defend himself before the moon even came up.”

She smiled slightly behind the mask. “Yeah. Home life wasn’t so good.”

“…Wasn’t?”

“They kicked him out. So he was homeless.” She shifted in her seat. “Even though he’s my ag- He’s like fourteen. So he’s staying with me now.”

He stared at her and blinked..

“Do you have a foster license?”

Veridian paused.

“No,” she admitted. “Which is the problem. If someone calls the cops, says he’s missing, or says I took him, we’re both toast. I can’t let him go back into the system.”

Just then, the aroma of exactly right coffee filled the room.

Present Mic sauntered in holding a tray with three mugs. One black, one with foam hearts in it, and one with whipped cream and sprinkles on top like it belonged in a cartoon.

They handed Eraserhead his first, then Veridian’s, and finally plopped into the other armchair.

“We have a foster license,” Mic said cheerfully.

Veridian stared at them. “Mic, you haven’t even met him yet.”

“Call me Yamada,” he grinned. “And Sho was talking about your friend last night. Said he had potential. That he wanted to see him make it into UA.”

Veridian turned her gaze to Eraserhead, masks eyes narrowing playfully. “Ohhh? Is that so?”

Eraserhead sipped his coffee. “Brainwashing is a strong quirk, even though I haven’t seen it in action yet. He’s rough around the edges, sure, but that’s what training’s for. Now I know why he’s rough.”

“He’s cool,” Yamada added brightly. “I wanna meet him!”

Eraserhead shot them a look over his mug. “It’s a big thing. We’ll have to think about it.”

Veridian tilted her head, then grinned under the mask. “Wait… are you two married?”

They both turned to her.

Yamada blinked.

Eraserhead sighed into his cup. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?”

“Okay my gaydar has been SO off recently.”

Yamada raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t even realize Hitoshi was gay until this morning! At least I'm pretty sure he was flirting with my- friend.” Brother. He was flirting with my brother over eggs. On GOD. 

Eraser pinched the bridge of his nose, “You know you just outed him, right?”

“Oh yea… I don’t even know how I’m gonna approach that with him. Let alone talk to him about being fostered by yall!” 

Yamada got up to make himself another drink, and tossed a look over their shoulder, “Maybe just sit him down and tell him. What are you worried about?”

“He’s been though so many different houses I’m worried he’ll think I’m abandoning him. And I don’t know if he will trust you, it took me way to long to let him know I wouldn’t muzzle him for asking questions.”

“What the fuck?” “Pardon.” 

“Long story.” 

Yamada nodded their head, and brought back over another monster of a drink. “Yep. Yea we’re adopting this kid, and immediately getting him into therapy.” 

Veridian held her now half-empty mug with both hands. The gears behind her mask were turning, but her voice stayed light.

“I’ll still need to talk to him,” she repeated. “He’s not exactly the trusting type. Might take a lot of convincing…” Sammy stepped off Veridian’s lap, and sat off to the side like she knew what Veridian was about to do.

Without much more warning than a flicker of movement, she stood and launched herself across the room to practically tackle Yamada in a hug. They let out an “oof!” and stumbled half a step, but caught her easily, grinning wide.

“Thanks, Yamada. Seriously.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

Then she pivoted, and- despite knowing full well what was about to happen- Eraserhead barely braced in time before she flung herself at him too. His arms stayed stiff for half a second before giving in, letting her wrap around him in a brief, tight hug. Her mask bumped his shoulder.

“Thanks for not arresting me,” she murmured.

“Yet,” he muttered back.

She stepped back and gave a deep, dramatic bow to them both. “Your generosity shall not be forgotten. May the record show, this was very heroic of you.”

She turned toward the door- but paused when Eraser’s voice stopped her.

“Veridian.”

She turned back, mask tilted.

“You’ve known me for almost half a decade now. You call me Aizawa.”

There was a long beat. A little smile behind the mask.

“Aizawa,” she said. She took a deep breath, and nodded her head, “feels kinda weird saying that. Anyways-”

“You, you are like a father to me. So you know what you can call me?”

Yamada’s eyes widened for a moment, but Aizawa didn’t fall for it.

“Batman.”

Without giving them a second to react, she booked it for the nearest open window.

“Wait- Veridian-!” Yamada took a step forward.

Too late.

She was already gone, leaping from roof to roof in the sunlight. Sammy hopped up onto the window sill that she had just jumped out of.

Aizawa watched her vanish, sipped his coffee, and sighed.

“She could’ve just used the door.”

“She’s a drama queen,” Yamada said, sipping their whipped cream mountain. “You love it.”

“Don’t.”

“You so do.”

Aizawa rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of something softer in them as he turned back toward the couch she’d just been sitting on. 

 

Chapter 11: I said I’m fine, Mama

Summary:

We finally get to see katsuki out of the background!

 

“Three weeks of therapy and I’ve seen massive improvement. I don’t believe I need to be of service to you anymore! Let’s do one more session, just to make sure. What you went through was a major trauma, but you’ve recovered remarkably. That’s a hero’s skill, Bakugou. I’m very proud of you.”

 

The words rang in his ears. They rang the same frequency as the usual ringing. 

 

Bakugou stepped out of the office stiff legged. His hand tightened around the strap of his bag. Sweat seeped from his palms, and forehead. He’d blame it on the sun before he blamed it on stress. 

 

The receptionist smiled at him, that fake smile therapists teach to everyone in the building. Somehow it’s threatening, and it enhances their wrinkles. Everyone in this fucking building is ugly, has saggy tits or is balding. 

“See you next week, Bakugo-kun!”

He didn’t answer. Saggy tit having mother fucker. You can’t look sixty when you're only forty if you don’t want to be insulted. 

The door swung shut behind him.

Sunlight hit his face and he began to sweat more. Just walking out of the building felt like a slap in the face. Not to mention what had actually happened in there for the past three weeks. Now that, that was a slap in the face. 

Walking out like this wasn’t a win. This was just… being dismissed.

Like she was done with him. 

The therapist had said a lot of things over the last few weeks:

That he was “remarkably resilient,” that “trauma doesn’t need to be processed when it’s been overcome so well,” that he had “excellent compartmentalization.”

Every one of those was code for “you’re angry and I don’t want to deal with you.” Most people call their therapists “over analysers” . Well this bitch is an under analyzer. And she’s also underdeveloped. 

He gave the bitch what she wanted. Said he felt “lighter.” Said he was “ready to move forward.” Told her the nightmares stopped. ( They hadn’t. ) Told her he stopped hearing the sludge dripping in his ears. ( He hadn’t. ) That no, every time he drank something he didnt feel like he was about to fucking drown. ( Dear god he did. )

She didn’t ask for details. Just wrote something in her file and told him he was “done.”

Fucking joke.

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The walk home was quiet. Not peaceful. Just silent. The silence made the ringing in his ears seem louder than before. 

He hated that. Silence made it too easy to hear his own heartbeat in his teeth. Especially since his ears were still healing, having been ruptured by sludge. He has gone through quite a few doctor's tests and gets his new hearing aids soon. 

By the time he got home, the tension in his shoulders had almost doubled. He took off his shoes in the entryway and immediately heard it. 

“Katsuki!”

His mom’s voice, echoing from the kitchen.

He clenched his jaw. “What?!”

Mitsuki stepped into view, drying her hands on a towel. “How was therapy?”

He paused. “Fine.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

Katsuki dropped his bag by the stairs and muttered, “It was fine. She said I’m good. I don’t need to go back.”

“You’re not good,” she shot back. “You don’t act good. You snap at everything, Katsuki. You’re not sleeping. You barely eat.”

“I’m fine, mama.”

“You’re not-”

“Drop it!”

It came out louder than he meant. 

“You think yelling makes you right?” she asked, her voice rising with his. “That therapist said you need to talk, and now you come home and slam around the house like I’m the villain!”

He turned away.

“Don’t you walk away from me.”

He spun back. “Then stop making everything worse!” 

They were both yelling now.

“You’re acting like a little brat,” Mitsuki snapped. “Maybe if you actually opened your mouth and said something useful in therapy instead of bottling it all up, you wouldn’t be turning into your father!”

“Shut up!”

“Make me!”

Then- 

“ENOUGH!”

Both of them froze.

Masaru’s voice cut through the air like a knife. He stood at the front door, his coat still on, briefcase dangling from one hand.

“What is going on?”

Mitsuki took a breath like she was about to keep going.

Masaru raised a hand.

“No. Don’t.”

Bakugo stood, panting slightly, staring at the floor.

Masaru sighed. “Katsuki. Upstairs.”

He didn’t argue. Just grabbed his bag and stormed up the stairs, not slamming his door but very nearly.

 

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Katsuki didn’t flinch when the door creaked open. He just let his eyes stay shut, let his breaths fall slow and even. Fake enough to fool mom, but never dad.

He heard the soft clink of ceramic. A plate being set on his nightstand. The familiar scent of dinner- rice, egg, and two strips of bacon- rose up in the dim room. He hadn’t gone down when they called. He never did lately. His appetite had been steadily decreasing even though it should have been increasing with training. 

 

Masaru sat gently on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped with his weight.

 

“That’s the fourth time this week I’ve walked home from work and you two are at each other’s throats.”

 

His voice was quiet, and shook slightly like he was afraid. Masaru never sounded terrified. Just a base level of scared, plus a later of worry. His voice was so full of concern that it made Katsuki feel like a kid again.

 

“Therapy’s not working for you.”

Katsuki didn’t answer, he couldn’t. Your right. I feel like shit. I’m scared. I’m not strong like she says I am. I’m not resilient like she told me I was. I’m weak…

 

“I couldn’t just stand there and watch you die.”

 

His shoulders trembled just slightly. He clenched his jaw to stop it, but it didn’t help.

 

The weight of his dad’s hand stopped the shaking. Just a gentle pressure on his shoulder. Warm and grounding. His thumb rubbed softly over his hoodie seam.

Katsuki felt him shift, then felt a kiss on the crown of his head.

“I’m very worried about you, kiddo. So’s your mom.”

 

Katsuki’s eyes squeezed shut. The tears didn’t fall. He refused to let them. Not right now. Not when his dad was still in the room.

 

“I promise we’re both here for you… have a good night, buddy.”

 

The bed shifted as Masaru stood. Footsteps padded out into the hall. The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence, again. Ringing, again.

 

Katsuki stared at the wall for a long moment, barely blinking.

 

Wow. He pulled out “kiddo” and “buddy.” That’s bad. That’s really bad. I must really not seem fine.

A deep breath filled his chest. It hurt on the way out.

 

Fine. Okay. Fucking lady, you win.

Tomorrow, he’d tell the therapist she was right. He was cured. She had worked enough of her magic that he was okay again. No more sludge dreams, no more fights, no more choking in his sleep, no more blowing up at the slightest things.

 

He’d work on it. He’d fix his attitude. He’d figure out how to look healed, even if he didn’t feel it.

 

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━  c( づ★‧₊˚⋆━━━━━━━━━━━━

The scratch of pencil on paper did little to drown out the sound of Izuku getting body-slammed into the grass again. Twist at the hips before the chest, having separation, so your punch holds more power.

 

Viví didn’t look up. She didn’t need to in order to know what he did wrong. Her eyes stayed locked on the page. Notes on hero costumes for different quirks she saw walking along in the park along with a list of the quirks categorized by threat level and terrain compatibility. It was nonsense. None of it made sense today.

 

She erased the same sentence for the third time and rewrote it again, her handwriting getting tighter and messier by the second.

Her leg bounced. Her fingers tapped the edge of the notebook. Her heart had been thudding unevenly since breakfast and it was pissing her off.

 

I’m fine. I’m totally fine. No reason to not be fine. You told Hawks you were thirteen. And that you have a brother. And that your mom is a nurse. That’s not enough to give away your true identity. But you told Hitoshi the truth. That’s fine. You didn’t die. Nobody yelled. Everything’s great. Everything’s perfect. Nobody suspects you. Nobody’s gonna care. You’re fine. You’re-

 

“Hey, Viví?”

 

Her whole body jerked.

 

She spun halfway around and swung her elbow back and immediately made contact with something solid.

 

“MOTHERFU-!”

 

A thud, followed by a wheeze.

 

Viví’s eyes went wide as she whipped around. “OH MY GOD- IZUKU?!”

 

Izuku staggered back, clutching his stomach. “It’s- ow- fine, just- ow- air, that’s all, I still have some air left-”

 

“OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY- OH GOD- SORRY SORRY SORRY I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS YOU, YOU SCARED ME, ARE YOU OKAY, DO YOU NEED A HUG, DO YOU NEED CPR, OH YOUR CRYING, TOSHI-!!”

 

From across the training field, Toshinori turned at the commotion and immediately doubled over with laughter. Like, full chest-clutching, wheezing laughter.

 

Izuku started to laugh too. Mostly from pain and partially from habit. Viví, stricken with secondhand giggles and guilt, couldn’t help but laugh too, half-panicked and half-manic.

 

She slapped a hand to her face. “I'm crashing out. I’m genuinely tweaked out. Oh my days.” 

 

Izuku leaned against the back of the bench, still wheezing out soft chuckles. “Honestly, if anyone deserves it, it’s me. I should’ve known better. I know you’re jumpy right now.”

 

Viví opened her mouth to respond but stopped. 

 

Her laughter faded slowly. Her fingers curled into the spiral of her notebook, and her smile thinned.

 

“…Yeah,” she said, too quietly.

 

Toshinori was still laughing in the distance, heading to find Izuku’s bag so they could head out. 

 

Izuku nudged her shoulder gently. “You okay? You’ve been… I dunno. More on edge than usual. Even your stress doodles are getting violent.”

 

Viví blinked down at her notebook.

 

On the bottom corner of the page, she’d drawn a very detailed and anatomically correct doodle of a rabbit exploding. A rabbit with green fur.

 

“…Oh,” she said. “Yeah. That’s a little concerning.”

 

Izuku didn’t laugh this time. Just waited.

 

Viví exhaled slowly and forced another grin. “I’m good. Just study stress. You know how I get before anything with a scantron.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “There’s no scantron in the entrance exam. I don’t think those exist anymore. Not since like 2078.”

 

“Mentally, there’s always a scantron. Also since 2034 when standardized tests became fully digitalized but they made a comeback in 2134 after the hacker group “Big Dick Hackers” got into all the tests so-“

 

“WHY DO YOU KNOW THAT.”

 

Izuku didn’t push for answers about if she was actually okay and continued to berate her for her knowledge. Rude. She knew he wouldn’t. That’s the problem with being his twin. He can tell I’m lying, but he’s polite enough to wait until I’m ready.

 

She hated that. 

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━  c( づ★‧₊˚⋆━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You could go full body,” Toshinori mused as they walked, gesturing with one hand as if sketching the design in air. “Something reinforced at the joints, light materials. Tactical gear, really. You need flexibility more than brute durability.”

 

Izuku bounced a little with each step, practically vibrating. “I want it to be All Might themed! Ears like the hair!”

 

Viví hummed behind them, not looking up from her phone. “You’re gonna have to wait to see how One for All reacts with your body before you can figure out the specifics of your hero suit.”

 

“It’s gonna make me super strong and super fast,” Izuku said happily. “Like Toshinori.”

 

“That’s not guaranteed."

 

Toshinori chuckled under his breath. “Honestly, most likely will. My mentor-”

 

“Nana Shimura. Strong woman, but she wasn’t just strong and fast. She was able to utilize her quirk “float” along with One for All, but as seen in All Might when there isn’t a previous quirk to latch onto you may think it’s just speed and strength- but there is a chance One for All will allow you to-“ 

As they turned the corner, the faint hiss of the espresso machine came into earshot. Viví stopped yapping and ran into the cafe in front of them. Viví spotted Hitoshi through the front glass, mopping behind the counter with the haunted posture of a Victorian ghost.

 

They stepped inside, and Hitoshi looked up, startled.

“Hey,” he greeted, mostly toward Viví- and then his eyes flicked to Toshinori.

Toshinori nodded politely, offering his usual low, gravel-soft, “Hello, young man.”

Hitoshi nodded back, but barely. His shoulders twitched slightly as he set the mop aside and disappeared behind the counter, mumbling something to a coworker before reappearing and joining them at the back table.

Viví slid into the booth first, her hand idly tapping the bottom of the table. Izuku followed, already launching into something about practice drills and his UA application checklist.

Toshinori took the outside seat like a bodyguard pretending not to be one.

Hitoshi sipped an iced coffee and said almost nothing. His eyes stayed on Toshinori like he expected the man to lunge at him mid-sentence. The way he kept one hand on his side pocket made Viví twitch. Not because he was tense, but because she was.

She should’ve told him not to come out on break. Or told Toshinori not to come here. Or never introduced them at all. Stupid. So stupid.

“So you’re both applying for the Hero Course at UA?” Toshinori asked, smile easy but eyes observant.

Shinso shifted. “Trying to. Not sure if it’ll pan out for me, though.”

Izuku cut in fast. “You’ll get in! Shinso’s smart, and his quirk is really unique, and he’s got great reflexes-“

Viví broke in without lifting her eyes from the table. “UA’s Hero Course accepts a wide range of skills and quirks. Top percentile cognitive adaptability matters more than flashy offense. Especially in support-based team rankings.”

Shinso blinked. “You just thought of that?”

“Nope.” She still didn’t look up. “It’s in their testing criteria. Line seven, paragraph three.”

Izuku grinned. “Told you she reads everything.”

Shinso smiled a little, and the tension finally started to melt from his shoulders.

They stayed like that for a while. Chatting until the wall clock finally ticked past the half-hour.

Shinso stood up reluctantly. “Break’s over. Gotta get back to making espresso and mopping milk.”

Toshinori stood as well, offering another handshake. “It was good to meet you, Shinso.”

Shinso accepted it, eyes still wary, but less so than before.

Izuku and Viví turned to go. Viví was already halfway to the door when she heard it:

“Bye, Veri- Viví. Bye Viví.”

It was quiet. Reflexive. Not accusatory. He didn’t mean to, he fixed it quickly. Veri. Veridian. Or just a stutter of Viví. 

But it cracked something wide open.

Viví’s body didn’t flinch. She didn’t stumble or freeze or say anything at all. She just kept walking.

Toshinori and Izuku chatted in the car about weather conditions and entrance exam history. Viví didn’t hear any of it. Her mind blanked like static, like someone had unplugged the feed.

They were home.

She wasn’t sure how.

As soon as her shoes hit the mat by the front door, Viví mumbled something and disappeared down the hallway. Her room door shut gently behind her.

And then it locked.

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Plates clinked as Izuku and Inko sat across from one another. The TV murmured from the living room with commercials and weather updates. Izuku was halfway through rambling about shoulder rotation exercises Toshinori had recommended when the sound of steps came down the stairs.

Viví rounded the corner into the kitchen.

Inko glanced up with a smile. “Oh, Viví, good evening! I thought you were resting.”

Viví didn’t answer.

She reached for a half-full bag of salt and vinegar chips from the counter and sat down across from her brother at the kitchen table.

Izuku blinked at her, his chopsticks mid-air.

“You good?”

“Fine,” she said too quickly. 

Izuku didn’t believe her, but didn’t push. He never does.

Inko returned to her task, plating food for later. “For your next workout with Yagi are you going to do those leg pull things?”

“Deadlifts,” Izuku supplied.

“Yes, those.”

Izuku nodded, glancing between his mom and his sister. “Yea, like I said I’ve been struggling with those a lot. Actually, Shinso said he would come work out with me. After his shift though.”

“Mm, that boy works too hard,” Inko said, smiling a little.

Viví watched her, quiet.

The front door clicked a moment later, and Shinso wandered in, backpack slung low, earbuds in. His shirt had coffee stains and small print that said “death before decaf.”

“Evening,” he mumbled.

“Hi, Shinso,” Inko said, her voice lifting automatically. “There’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry. You can heat it up or I can warm it for you?”

“I got it, thank you,” he said, shoulders loosening a little.

He offered Viví a glance- something quiet and concerned in it- but she didn’t meet his eyes.

Izuku scraped his bowl clean and stood. “C’mon, you still wanna go over form adjustments?”

Shinso nodded, grabbing a spoon and already heading down the hallway. “I also wanna review that footwork stuff you mentioned.”

The boys disappeared down the hall, still talking excitedly. The silence that followed felt… colder.

Inko took her time cleaning the stovetop. Viví sat there, crumpling the chip bag without meaning to.

She finally said, “You didn’t ask me if I wanted dinner.”

Inko didn’t turn. “You never eat with us.”

“I’m sitting here right now.”

“I didn’t know you’d be coming down.”

Viví didn’t respond. Just twisted the plastic bag tighter.

Inko wiped the counter again. 

Viví leaned back in her chair, watching her mother with that flat, observant stare she’d picked up somewhere between growing up too fast and not fast enough.

“You’re good with him.”

“Hmm?”

“Hitoshi.”

Inko paused.

“You’re patient. Gentle. You smile at him when he walks in the door. Ask if he needs anything.”

Inko didn’t answer right away.

“I’m just saying, you’re very good at being a mom,” Viví said. “Just not to me.”

That made Inko freeze.

She forced a smile. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No,” Viví said, standing, “I’m being honest.”

“You’ve had a hard week, Viví. You’re not sleeping. You’re snappish-”

“I’ve always been this way. Since the diagnosis. Or since 2219.. when dad… That’s the problem, right?”

Inko set down the sponge slowly. “You always take things so personally.”

“No. You always make them personal and then act like it’s just logic.” Viví crossed her arms. “You treat me like I’m the one that failed you.”

Inko’s face went still.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Viví said. “Say it. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Inko looked down at the counter. “I don’t have the energy for this tonight. I just got off a 25 hour shift-”

“Right. Of course not.”

Viví’s voice didn’t shake. But her hands did, just barely.

“I want to go see someone,” she said. “A doctor. Or a therapist. I think I need help.”

Inko looked up.

“Well,” she said, slowly. “You’re old enough to go by yourself. Just schedule it. Don’t bother me about it.”

Viví blinked. “That’s all?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” Viví admitted, softer now. “I guess I just… wanted to hear that you think I’m worth helping.”

Inko looked at her daughter, and for a fraction of a second, the expression on her face wasn’t cold.

It was scared.

She looked at Viví like she was staring down the younger version of herself.

“I think,” she said, voice a little rougher, “that I don’t know how to help someone who is still hurting in all the same places I am.”

And then she turned off the light above the stove and walked out of the kitchen.

Viví stood in the dark a while longer, then walked right out the front door.

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Morning rolled around eventually, but Viví hadn't gone home that night. She wandered through back alleys and the parks all the way till the sun came up. When it was a respectable time in the afternoon she pulled up her Waze to find the clinic their school offered. If you went to Aldera you got a discount. The clinic wasn’t far. The closer she got, the more her chest started to buzz.

She shouldn’t have skipped breakfast. Or maybe she should’ve skipped the coffee. Or maybe she shouldn’t be here at all. She hadn’t told Izuku where she was going. She didn’t want him to worry. He was already worrying. So much. About everything. 

She was doing this for him. So she wouldn’t have to tack on more worry onto everything else he was dealing with.

The front doors to the clinic opened just as she reached the bottom step, and someone stepped out.

Viví stopped short.

Katsuki stopped short too, a half-finished note clutched in one hand like he’d been about to crumple it. His hair was messy, and his eyes were still puffy like he hadn’t slept. He had that look he always wore when someone said something that hit too close to home. 

His gaze snapped to her, and for a second, they just stared.

“…Uh,” she managed.

Katsuki squinted, like he was trying to decide if she was real or just a sleep-deprived hallucination.

Then he muttered, “Hey, Vandal. Not worth it.”

“Huh?”

“Therapist. Don’t waste your time. I’d find someone better.”

She blinked. “Oh. Uh. Thanks, Kacchan-”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” he snapped. He started past her without another word.

“…Okay- ah, sorry-“

“…”

“…”

 

Neither of them moved. Katsuki paused three steps down. 

She stared at the back of his head, waiting for him to keep walking forward and vanish.

But instead, he shifted. 

He turned around and started walking back up beside her.

Viví stiffened automatically. Not from fear... okay it was definitely from fear. She was never the one he came for. That was always Izuku. She was always adjacent to the abuse. He never looked her directly in the face like this.

They walked side by side in silence for a bit. Neither one of them had direction. Both their homes were in the opposite direction.

Katsuki was the first to speak.

“You saw the wreckage. From the sludge villain thing.”

Viví glanced over, startled. “Yeah. I talked to you while you were still there.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “I forgot about that.”

“You just kept telling me to check on Izuku. Then you like… passed out or something.”

“Seizure.” He rolled his eyes. “Lack of oxygen. Messes you up.”

“I never really asked what happened. Something else came up with Izuku right after…”

Like, y’know… All Might giving him his quirk.

Katsuki sneered. “More important than me almost dying?”

She didn’t flinch.

“Kinda,” she said. “But I didn’t know how bad it was. What actually happened?”

He slowed down. Looked around. Then, without a word, grabbed her shoulder and steered her off the sidewalk into the empty park nearby.

Viví followed, no resistance. “Am I gonna get jumped?”

“No, dipshit.”

They found a shady bench tucked beneath an old tree. He sat first, hands shoved into his pockets, jaw clenched tight.

She didn’t say anything. Just sat down beside him and waited.

“…Stupid hag made me go to therapy for it,” he said after a while.

Viví nodded. That tracked. Of course Auntie did. She actually cared about her son, something terrible happened to him and she wanted him to get better. Inko would never

“But the therapist- she keeps saying I’m doing good. That I’m resilient. That bouncing back is a heroic trait. Like it’s an award.” He scoffed. “She barely even asked me what happened. Said talking about it would hinder my progress.”

Viví frowned. “That’s not how therapy is supposed to work.”

“I know that,” he snapped. “But what am I supposed to do? Tell her she sucks at her job? She’s got a paper trail now. Says I’m doing great. I can’t argue with that without sounding crazy.”

“…Fuck that woman.”

“SHUT UP. Don’t- don’t make me agree with you.”

“Okay, sorry,” Viví said, biting the inside of her cheek.

He sat in silence for a minute.

“I was walking through the alley. Then this huge sludge freak jumped me. I barely got a sound out before he was choking me out. Just… liquid everywhere. Like drowning in snot. Heroes showed up eventually, but none of them did anything. They just fucking stood there. Watching me die.”

Viví didn’t blink. She was fully locked in now. Legs pulled up, chin on her knees.

“Even I did more than them,” he said. “I was blasting the sludge off my face. I clawed and kicked. Nothing worked. I was seconds from blacking out.”

He paused. His hands had curled into fists.

“Then your dumbass brother jumped in. Just. Outta nowhere.”

She didn’t say anything.

“I was face to face with him. While I was dying. This weakass nobody just ran straight in.”

“…It’s because you were dying,” Viví said quietly.

He blinked. “What?”

“That’s why he did it. Because you were dying.”

Katsuki stared at her, eyes narrowing.

“No, it’s because that quirkless fucker thought he was better than me. Thought he could save me and be-“

“He didn’t think he was better than you,” she said. “He thought he was disposable.”

That made him look away.

“…You think?”

“I know.”

Silence.

Then, softer than she’d ever heard him:

“If it was you… would you’ve jumped in?”

She considered.

“Maybe. I’d have hesitated, though. Izuku? Izuku never hesitates when it comes to you. Despite what you’ve done to him he still loves you.”

He exhaled through his nose. She wasn’t sure if it was a laugh or a scoff.

Abruptly he stood up.

She stayed seated.

He didn’t look back, but she saw him wipe his eyes once with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Have a good summer, Kacchan,” she said gently.

“…Go die, Vandal.”

She smiled and didn’t say anything else.

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━   c( づ★‧₊˚⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Viví kicked a pebble as she walked, keeping her head down. She kept her hoodie on despite the heat of summer. It had been getting less hot as summer's end neared. Autumn will be beginning soon. She tried to think of the good that came of that. But she couldn’t get him out of her head.

Kacchan’s voice echoed in her skull.

“I was seconds from blacking out.”

“Your dumbass brother jumped in.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

 

He walked out of that clinic looking like he was gonna puke. Like the appointment had peeled a layer off he didn’t know was missing. She didn’t know what happened in there, but clearly it had taken a chunk of his soul.

But after their talk?

He walked away different. Still angry. Still sharp. But lighter .

Like he was finally letting go of something, even if he didn’t realize it.

Viví crossed the street without looking at the light. Her feet knew where they were supposed to go. Her head wasn’t as sure anymore. 

Therapy obviously didn’t work. If it didn’t work for Kacchan it wouldn’t work for her. But she couldn’t talk to anyone about this. The only people who know are Hitoshi… and kinda Hawks. She can’t talk to Hawk’s because she will end up revealing something and he won’t be able to not tell the hero commission. 

She couldn’t tell Hitoshi. Yes he knew, but he had his own things. Plus what would she tell him, “ Hey I’m really fucking anxious to the point I’ve had almost three panic attacks in the last two days because I told you about my secret which I never actually told you, you accidentally found out cause I’m a dumbass please don’t hate me your like a brother to me.” And then he leaves and tells everyone I’m Veridian cause I insulted him to his face. What the fuck am I to do? 

✨Compartmentalize until further notice! ✨

Ah. It’s great being a genius. 

Notes:

I wanna make katsuki an absolute bitch, then when he starst seeing hound dog he actually gets better. But for now hes basically just a normal teenage boy, very agrivating and rude and youll probably find him annoying as hell. Hopefully.

Chapter 12: Dinner of distress, despair, and dread

Summary:

Dinner time!

Notes:

TW: Child Abuse
It is the italic portion after Hizashi is cleaning.

Also TW, idk how a hot topic works. Just assue this is a hot topic that is like target and has changing rooms and stuff.

Adopt me pleASE

Today 8:34 AM

 

Dadzawa:

Our house. Today. 6:30.

 

LittlebunnyVV:

Huh??

 

MamaMic:

YOU’RE HAVING DINNER WITH USSSS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

 

LittlebunnyVV:

Uhhh idk I might be busy with… stuff

 

Dadzawa:

Bring Shinso.

It’s a better way for him to get to know us.

And get familiar with the house.

 

LittlebunnyVV:

Lemme guess

Y’all also do this for new foster cats? Didn’t you do this for Ankle Biter a whole MONTH until she finally gave in and was calm at the house 

 

MamaMic:

HELL YEA WE DO. Also ankle biter is never calm at the house.

 

LittlebunnyVV:

Lmaoo

I’ll tell him.

 

Dadzawa:

See you then.

Viví stared at her phone for a second longer than she meant to. Then set it face-down on her chest.

Across the room, Hitoshi peeked up from his spot on the floor where he was absently organizing the contents of his new utility belt.

“Everything okay?”

Viví stared at the ceiling. “Aizawa and Yamada just invited us to dinner.”

Shinso paused. “Did we do something wrong?”

“Nah. Yamada just really wants to meet you.”

“How does he know about me?”

“Aizawa probably brags to them about how you're doing great in training.”

Viví rolled over on the couch and chucked a throw pillow in his general direction. It missed, dramatically. Hitoshi gave her a tf was that for bitch? look and threw it back.

“Anyway,” she said, “you free tonight?”

He smirked. “I mean, I was supposed to have training but…”

Viví grinned.

“Here’s your new training. Socializing.”

 

Adopt me pleASE 

Today 9:02 AM 

 

LittlebunnyVV added +81 (96)-3456-7765  to the group chat

Dadzawa: 

???

 

LittleBunnyVV:

Hitoshi’s number

 

LittlebunnyVV changed +81 (96)-3456-7765  name to bitch

Bitch: 

Rude 

 

Mamamic: 

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 

 

Bitch: 

Hi 

 

LittlebunnyVV: 

Okay bye again me and Hitoshi are going to the mall to find clothes for tonight 😝😝

 

Dadzawa: 

Just wear clothes?? 

 

Bitch: 

But shopping 

 

LittlebunnyVV:

Yea, but shopping

 

Izuku, overhearing them while halfway out the door with a protein shake on his way to training, blinked. “Wait- mall? I thought you hated public-”

“Closet emergency,” Viví snapped, then snickered, “Ha. That should be your nickname. Get it? Cause you're in the closet and you're always in a state of emergency. I’m so genuinely hilarious.” 

“I’m gonna stab you to death with a knife.”

“Yea okay buddy, call if you die. Say hi to Toshinori for me. Love you.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and pulled Hitoshi out the door behind her. 

Hitoshi waved lazily. “Good luck with the whole… being punched in the face thing.” He also gave Izuku a quick kiss on the cheek. They had been steadily growing as friends, with Viví pulling them together then usually leaving them to hang out while she studies. 

Izuku mumbled something about them always doing fun things while he had training. 

 

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━  c( づ★‧₊˚⋆━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Viví and Shinso arrived at the mall like they were on a secret mission. Which, to be fair, they kind of were. Secret Operation: Look Like Functional Teens In Front Of Adoptive Dads. Although Hitoshi still didn’t know about the whole adoption thing. So. Hitoshi’s didn’t know about the goal. Their first stop was the best place to accomplish that.

First stop you ask?

Hot Topic.

Of course.

The second they stepped in, Viví sighed like she’d entered a cathedral.

“I love the smell of capitalism and synthetic leather in the morning.”

“It’s literally 2PM.”

They split up like it was a heist: Shinso went to the graphic tees, Viví to the boots and jewelry. Ten minutes later they met back in front of the fitting rooms with their arms full. Hitoshi went in first, grabbing a few things that matched and trying them on.

 

Adopt me pleASE

Today 1:47 PM

LittlebunnyVV:

Added a photo

(Hitoshi staring at items in hot topic with cat ears drawn on and the caption 'hoe')

 

Mamamic: 

Now I wanna go shopping

I need new rings lowkey

 

Dadzawa: 

You have Amazon on your phone. 

 

Mamamic: 

Oh yea, I forgor that existed 

 

LittlebunnyVV: 

never buy rings from Amazon, I did that once and I think I got metal poisoning on my finger

 

Bitch: 

Girl quit texting in the changing room

 

Mamamic: 

Yea girl. Quit texting in the changing room. 

 

Dadzawa: 

Put the phone down and try on clothes. 

 

LittlebunnyVV: 

STOP ATTACKING ME

Viví kicked the door which made Hitoshi jump, and went back to trying clothes on. Eventually she stepped out and tossed the clothes into the return bin as none of them were what she was looking for. Hitoshi’s turn again! Viví dug through the piles they had grabbed while he tried on clothes. We put back up most of the jewelry that was didn’t want but we just tossed the clothes into the bin.

While piling the clothes she didn’t want into the bin she noticed something. Upon further inspection, she gasped and tossed a long-sleeve distressed black crop top with chain details and a purple plaid skirt over the stall door. It matched Shinso’s a little too well. “This is cute, but is it too much?” I don’t give a FUCK if it’s to much. I’m still getting it cause it’s cute as all hell. 

Hitoshi stepped out, currently holding three different jackets and a pair of high heeled boots, looking her dead in the eye. “We’re going to dinner with a retired goth and a former punk-rock DJ. There is no such thing as too much.”

“Good point.” 

They began chatting about how Aizawa was 100% a retired goth and about how they should listen to Yamada’s old music on the walk home. After maybe an hour and a half they found some clothes and accessories that they liked. 

At the counter, Viví paused, distracted by the cashier girl.

She had earphone jacks coming out of her earlobes- quirk-based, naturally- curved like plugs and adorned with dangling charm caps that looked custom made. They poked at the register, while the girl worked with her hand on the tags. She looked younger, maybe Viví and Hitoshi’s age.

“Your quirk’s gorgeous,” Viví said casually as the girl rang her up.

The cashier blinked, then grinned. “Thanks! Yours?”

Viví smiled crookedly. “Analysing.”

The girl stared for a beat, then nodded and smiled. “Sick.”

Viví tapped her phone on the pay thing, using her mom’s Apple Pay for everything. They changed into their new clothes immediately after purchasing them because obviously. You don’t go to a mall and not strut around in your freshly bought clothes.

 

               /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━  c( づ★‧₊˚⋆━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Back at the house, Hitoshi and Viví sprinted around like headless chickens trying to finish their looks.

Viví styled her hair perfectly, helped Hitoshi reapplied his eyeliner, and after several outfit-adjustment panics she threw on her thigh holster and wristband communicator “just in case.” She grabbed her mask from under the floorboard, making sure it was tight and secure. 

She detached the jaw plate and made sure her scar wasn’t peeking out or anything. She’d take the jaw plate off when she got to the house but in case she was seen in public she would keep it on. 

Hitoshi finished with the clasp of his necklace and started in the mirror, “We look…”

“Like divassss,” she finished, hugging him and almost pushing him into the mirror. 

“Time to go do the scariest thing of my life”

Viví rolled her eyes, “Youll feel better when you meet their other kids.” 

“Yeah- wait other kids?” 

“Mhm! They have 12, although I’ve only met like 7.” 

“TWELVE??”

“Yep. Twelve cats.” 

 

“Oh my god you are not funny. Actually go jump in a hole and die.” 

 

“So basically your telling me you want me to put bricks in my pockets and walk into the ocean.” 

 

“Please, you can’t even fit your phone in your pocket let alone a brick.” 

 

“Kys.” 

 

The two of them continued bickering while they went downstairs to talk to Inko and inform her they would be over at a friend's house for dinner. 

 

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━  c( づ★‧₊˚⋆━━━━━━━━━━━━

Veridian stood on the doorstep, flowers in hand.

Hitoshi beside her held a plate of still-warm cookies wrapped in plastic wrap, tied with a green ribbon. Inko had shoved it into his hands last second with a smile and a soft, “Be polite. And thank them for letting you stay.” 

He nodded and mumbled a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” She’s a very sweet lady. I wish I could stay with her and Viví and Izuku forever but eventually the foster care system is going to come knocking x 

Now, he was knocking on the unfamiliar door. He knocked gently like every tap made the door come closer to shoving whipped cream in his face. Or exploding. One or the other. 

“I should’ve brought a knife,” he muttered.

“You did, it’s in your boot,” Veridian replied casually, adjusting her mask. “Anyway, smile. Aizawa already likes you, and Yamada is gonna love you.”

“I’m not good at socializing."

“Neither are they.”

Before he could argue, the door opened.

“OH HELLO!!!!”

Yamada exploded into the doorway with full energy. He had a high pony tail, and was supporting crocs and a neon pink “Kiss the cook (no really, do it)” apron on. He bounced over and greeted Hitoshi and Veridian.

“SHOUTAAAA, KID AND VERIDIAN ARE HEREEE!!!!” He boomed, already halfway hugging Veridian. “You must be Shinso!! I’m Present Mic, but just call me Yamada! Or Hizashi! Or anything you want, really! Mama Mic, Papa Mic, Dadzashi, or whatever you like!”

Hitoshi blinked. ““Uh- y-yes, sir. Um. Thank you for having me. I’m Hitoshi Shinso. ”

Veridian leaned over and whispered behind her hand, “Breathe, dawg.”

He offered the plate of cookies like a small peace offering.

“Ohhhh! Sweet treats!” Yamada practically sparkled, taking the plate. “My guy, you’re already killin’ it!”

Behind them, Aizawa Shouta leaned against the hallway wall in a black hoodie, some sweatpants and calico cat socks, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded as always. He was probably woken up from his nap like ten minutes ago. 

“You’re lucky it’s not Aizawa’s turn to cook,” Veridian said, slipping in past them. She finally detached the jaw plate and kissed Yamada on each cheek. smooch smooch.

Then she turned to Aizawa.

“No,” he said immediately, backing up a step.

Veridian ignored him. She grabbed his shirt collar and kissed the bridge of his nose anyway. Smooch. 

He grumbled. “You’re getting too bold.”

“You love me.”

“…Unfortunately.”

 

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━  c( づ★‧₊˚⋆━━━━━━━━━━━━

They settled into the living room.

Hitoshi looked around a bit, taking in some photos- plus some flags. He didn’t recognize them, so maybe they were for Yamada and Aizawa’s homelands? They seem native to Japan but you never know. 

Hitoshi got a text on his phone, glancing at it and seeing it was from Veridian. She was talking to Aizawa and Yamada so he had no idea when she had time to send a test. 

Viví: 

Yamada used they/them pronouns dawg

Hitoshi had heard of that before. He couldn’t remember where, but it was a small thing he would try his hardest to remember. He almost forgot the second he got swallowed by the couch. 

It was sunken and huge and completely dominated by soft blankets and a sprawling cat tree in the corner. It looked like it had been purchased by people who really only cared about two things. Cats and sleeping. 

Veridian barely had time to sit down before Sammy, the round, crème brulee looking Siamese cat who considered her thighs personal property vaulted into her lap.

“Oh hello, my love,” she cooed, scratching him behind the ears. “Yes, yes, mommy’s here.”

 

In seconds- just seconds- the cats descended.

Hitoshi blinked.

First was a half black, half ginger, and apparently half-starved for flesh. They gnawed affectionately on his wrist like they hadn’t been fed in years. 

Next was a foxlike cat who, despite having only three legs, launched onto his head and nestled into his hair

The fluffiest gray cat Hitoshi had ever seen began winding in figure-eights through his ankles, chirping and occasionally licking him.

Spot, a cow-patterned older cat with the heft of a weighted blanket, chose Hitoshi’s arm and settled there with no intention of moving. He already felt his arm getting numb.

A completely white cat strutted up and smacked the foxlike in the face with a paw before climbing up herself. The fox cat fell off. Hitoshi caught her. Now he had two cats in his lap.

A very large (big as a dog) brown tabby with enormous round eyes, curled up beside them and made herself at home.

Hitoshi was gone and had been replaced by a pile of cats. 

He looked down at the masses of fur crawling across his limbs.

He was smiling like an idiot.

“They’re all so adorable I’m gonna tweak out,” Hitoshi said. His fingers moved to pet the Fox one, who rolled over like a stuffed toy and promptly fell off the couch.

“They do not like most people,” Yamada added, voice quieter than usual. “Pearl swatted Veridians mask off once. Best moment of my life.” He- they gestured to the white one on his head.

“Managed to get a claw under the suction seal. But not to fret, my baby Sammy sat on my face to hide my identity cause she loves me,” Veridian said, planting kisses on Sammy’s face.

“Cats,” Hitoshi replied, eyes shining. “I love cats.”

Aizawa came over, a blueish cat climbing into his lap the second he sat down. Veridian was murmuring sweet nothings to Sammy who swatted at her chin. 

 

“Aizawa I'm too locked in with Sammy, you introduce all my cats.”

 

“ My cats, but whatever. You have Pearl.” He gestured to the pure white one standing on Hitoshi’s head like he was a pedestal. 

 

“Ankle biter is the one actively trying to eat you-” He pointed at the half black half ginger. According to TikTok that makes him full black. 

 

Veridian chimed in, “See it’s funny, they call him ankle biter but he mostly bites wrists.” 

 

“Yea.. anyways. There is Foxy.” The three legged fox like cat finally climbed back onto the couch, “There is Lover-“ 

 

Veridian chimed in again, “I call him Bleh. Cause his tongue is always sticking out.” 

 

“Lover slash Bleh, then there is Spot-“ 

 

Veridian chimed in for a third time, “Like Spot from The spiderverse. Yamada is a comic nerd.” Hitoshi thought about that, remembering seeing a lot- a LOT of comics in Izuku’s room. 

 

Aizawa glared at Veridian for interrupting him again, but continued anyways, “The largest cat you’ll ever see is Doe.” Doe looked up at Hitoshi, and he felt a shiver go down his spine. She wasn’t a meaty cat by any means, Shinso could slightly feel her bones, but she was just.. abnormally large. 

 

He nodded, running though the names and pointing at them while doing so. Then Ankle Biter bit his finger. 

 

“Veridian said there were twelve cats?”

 

“Twelve or thirteen. Depends on how you look at it. The others are Sammy-“ 

 

Veridian held up Sammy, who said nothing. 

“This is my baby, I love them. They deserve the whole world.” 

 

“If you don’t stop interrupting me I will put Sammy in time out and let her sleep in my room.” Yamada gasped from across the room. 

 

Veridian held Sammy to her chest and gasped along with Yamada, “You wouldn’t dare.” 

 

“Oh I would. Anyways there is Sammy, Husky, Shrimp, and-“ Aizawa gestured to the blueish grey cat in his lap, “this is Oboro. He is very, very, old. Fourteen to be specific. He will bite if you try to pet him, and if you get too close he will run up a wall and leap at you.”

 

“Don’t forget cat!” Yamada called from the kitchen. Veridian looked confused at this too. 

 

“Cat will come out later and they can meet her.” Aizawa said ominously 

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━  c( づ★‧₊˚⋆━━━━━━━━━━━━

Shinso spent his time with the cats, and Veridian was helping Yamada in the kitchen.

She stood beside them, wielding a knife like a katana and a pair of sunglasses for cutting onions. “It’s the juices that make you cry, the sunglasses block you from being a huge baby!”

Yamada was dicing vegetables while beatboxing to himself. “Microwave the onion first. Way less crying.”

“Personally, I’m not crying cause of the juices, I'm crying because the onion had a very loving family,” Veridian replied cheerfully, cutting the onion wrong and almost chopping her finger off. “So I’m basically better.”

From the living room, Aizawa sipped his coffee, rolling his eyes. “How are you so good at fighting people with knives, yet you are terrible at cutting things. 

“You tryna fight?”

“You can’t take me in a fight.”

“I literally have, old man-”

“By cheating.”

“By being better.”

Hitoshi listened to them bicker with something caught between admiration and secondhand exhaustion. He wasn’t used to this kind of household. He wasn’t sure it was real.

His eyes drifted toward the far corner of the living room, where a low bookshelf held something strange.

Not books, but photos.

Dozens of framed pictures lined the surface, each one focused on a cat. Some were curled in windowsills, some playing in blankets, others mid-yawn or glaring directly into the camera. One was a point five of Sammy with Veridian in the background. That one was newer, as it didn’t have the same layer of dust the others did. Each photo had a nameplate beneath it, some neatly labeled and some with scrawled handwriting.

Some had a tiny red dot sticker in the corner. Others had their frames turned face-down.

Hitoshi tilted his head.

“Curious?” Aizawa asked behind him.

Hitoshi startled as he hadn’t heard him move.

“Yeah. A little.”

Aizawa walked over and gestured toward the small couch in front of the shrine. Hitoshi followed. The moment he sat, three cats jumped up to join him but he gently moved them aside, then settled back into the cushions.

Aizawa didn’t sit for a long moment. He just stood, looking down at the pictures.

“This,” he said quietly, “is the shrine.”

Hitoshi eyes widened slightly. “…A cat shrine.”

“Yes.” He finally sat beside him. “Every cat we’ve taken in gets a spot here.”

Shinso scanned the display again. “There’s a lot.”

Aizawa nodded once.

“Twenty-eight so far.”

Hitoshi’s brows lifted.

“Some were found on the street. Others were abandoned. A few were pulled from hoarder situations. We rehabilitate the ones we can, rehome a few when it’s safe.” He gestured at the photos. “The face-down ones are cats we had to say goodbye to. Mostly due to age, sometimes illness. One… accident.”

Hitoshi looked over the downturned frames, heart twisting.

“Some have red dots.”

Aizawa’s voice stayed steady. “Rehomed. Some were only with us a few months. Some stayed years. Doesn’t matter. They all earned a spot.”

Hitoshi leaned forward, pointing at a Maine-Coone with heterocromia eyes.

“That one?”

“Husky. Had a Husky sibling named Maine, when their family lost Maine they abandoned Husky. So we took her in.”

He nodded sadly, and pointed to one of the cats he had been suffocated by a few minutes ago. “Pearl?”

“Would only eat from my hand for months, but she had too because she had a skin issue due to malnourishment. And she was completely bald due to malnourishment as well, but now she has shiny soft fur.” Hitoshi smiled, looking over to see a cat who seemed on top of the world. It hurt to think she used to be a malnourished dying cat.”

“Foxy?”

Aizawa’s tone shifted, just slightly.

“Missing a leg when we found her. Hit by a car, probably. Severely malnourished, even worse than Pearl. Scared. He almost didn’t make it. But now…” he paused, watching the little tripod fox curl in a sunbeam by the window, “He owns the place despite getting bullied by Pearl and Ankle Biter.”

Shinso stayed quiet for a while. He looked over to Sammy that Veridian had in her arms. Veridian had her thumb pressed gently over the cats eye, mirroring the way he sometimes saw her do when working on something that needed a screen. 

“…Sammy?”

“Lost an eye in a fight. Wandered into our alley. Hizashi took one look at him and said, ‘That cat’s mine now.’”

Another pause.

Aizawa then added, more quietly, “We don’t keep track of how broken they are when they arrive. Just who they are when they leave. Or stay.”

Hitoshi’s throat tightened unexpectedly.

He looked around the room.

At the cats curled on chairs and shelves and scratching posts. At the faint smell of dinner mixing with air freshener and cat litter. Minor decor, only ten photos tops. 

It wasn’t a flashy house.

But it was warm.

It was… safe.

I was out on the street.

I was malnourished.

He looked down at his sleeves. At his wrists, a small movement made a clicking noise. He was still healing from weeks of sleeping on rooftops and park benches. I may have fibbed a little to Viví about how long I was on the street. 

The bruises under his eyes hadn’t faded completely. He still got phantom headaches when it rained too hard. Still noted when nights would be colder or hotter in case he was back out of the street.

And yet…

Here he was. Sitting next to a pro hero. Surrounded by cats. In a house that kept a shrine to strays. Somewhere in his mind he realized he’d asked almost ten questions without hesitating. Before he had only been able to do that with Viví. 

His mind flashed to Viví.

The way she found him.

Dragged him inside.

Gave him love and a bed and let him talk. Or not. If he stayed silent she filled the void.

He hadn’t asked for any of it.

But she did it anyway…

She planned this.

She brought him here for a reason.

A household that knew how to keep strays.

Because that’s what he was.

Shinso blinked fast and looked back at Aizawa.

“I think I get it now,” he murmured.

Aizawa looked over at him.

Shinso smiled faintly.

“You don’t just keep cats.”

Aizawa didn’t smile but his gaze softened.

“…No,” he said. “No, we don’t.”

 

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━  c( づ★‧₊˚⋆━━━━━━━━━━━━

The table was set. Yamada and Veridian walked carefully from the kitchen with plates in hand. Veridian had the proud air of a five-star chef even though Yamada had done most of the cooking, and she’d mostly been in charge of aesthetics.

“Look at this presentation,” she said as she set down the last plate. “This could be on a billboard.”

“It’s dinner, not MasterChef,” Aizawa replied flatly.

“And yet, I expect applause,” Veridian countered, already sitting down and fanning herself dramatically with a napkin.

But before anyone could dig in the door creaked open from the side hallway.

A low pat-pat-pat of paws echoed in. Different from a cat.

From around the corner a creature waddled in that was most certainly not a cat.

Shinso froze mid-sit, one chopstick in his hand.

Veridian gasped, audibly.

“Is that-?”

“A fox???” Shinso finished.

The creature trotted forward with confidence, its red-orange fur a little too shaggy, tail far too long and for lack of a better word, fox-like, to be feline. Its ears twitched toward the group as it sniffed the air, stepping into the living room.

“CAT!” Yamada sang, dropping into a crouch instantly. “Hey, buddy! You’re early!”

He offered his hand, and the fox- Cat, apparently- stepped up, gave it a sniff, then licked their fingers and sat like a perfectly well-behaved house guest.

Veridian looked between the fox and the heroes.

Then back at the fox.

Then at the heroes.

“You… you have a fox named Cat?”

Aizawa sighed heavily from his spot at the table. “Yes. Veridian, Shinso… meet Cat. Cat, meet Shinso and Veridian.”

Hitoshi blinked. “Is it even… is it legal to keep a fox?”

“I don’t know,” Aizawa muttered.

“I’m so sorry,” Veridian said, clutching her chest like she was about to have a heartattack. “You have a fox named Cat. You two are the literal loves of my life. I’m proposing to both of you, right now. Say yes.”

“I decline,” Aizawa said immediately.

“I’ll put it in my calendar,” Yamada grinned.

Veridian turned to the fox, kneeling down next to Yamada as Cat sniffed her boots.

“I have so many questions.”

“Shouta was out on patrol,” Yamada explained as they scratched behind Cat’s ears. “Came home with this guy wrapped in his scarf and announced, ‘I have brought back a cat.’”

Veridian wheezed.

“A very weird-looking cat,” Yamada added. “And upon further inspection…”

“It was not a cat,” Aizawa finished dryly.

“I can’t breathe,” Veridian laughed, reaching to pet the creature. Cat leaned into her palm immediately.

Shinso reached out next. Cat’s wet nose bumped into his fingers, then curled up at his side without hesitation.

“Of course he likes you,” Veridian muttered, eyeing him slightly. “Now I wanna fox.”

“No,” Aizawa said.

“Yes, he is more well behaved than any of the cats.” Yamada whispered behind his hand.

The group finally made it to the table, plates passed around, Cat settled on a blanket near the couch, cleaning his paw with clear boredom. 

Dinner was warm, loud, and filled with laughter. Even Aizawa laughed once or twice. 

Veridian stole a bite of Shinso’s karaage and whispered behind her hand, “Next mission: sneak Cat into my apartment.”

“Next mission: you get arrested for wildlife smuggling,” he replied, deadpan.

“WORTH IT.”

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━  c( づ★‧₊˚⋆━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The table was littered with empty plates and the last crumbs of the cheesecake Hizashi had brought out for dessert. Veridian was already halfway to the kitchen with an armful of dishes.

“Let me help clean up- please,” she pleaded, already angling toward the sink.

“Nope,” Hizashi intercepted, plucking the plates right out of her hands. “Guests don’t do dishes in this house. Especially when it’s late and when you have patrol tonight.”

“It’s not that late,” Veridian argued.

“V, my internal clock says otherwise,” Hizashi said, already stacking bowls.

Shouta leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “He’s right. Go home before you miss your train or something.”

“We didn’t take a train,” Shinso muttered, standing from the table.

“Go anyway,” Shouta deadpanned.

Veridian sighed like she’d been banished from paradise, but she still slung her bag over her shoulder. “Fine, fine. But I’m not leaving without a proper goodbye.”

She stepped up to Hizashi first, giving him a kiss on each cheek, which made him beam like he’d just won a medal. Then she turned to Shouta, who instinctively leaned back but not far enough to avoid her planting a quick kiss on his forehead.

“Stop doing that,” he grumbled.

“Not in this lifetime,” she shot back with a grin.

Shinso got a much more subdued farewell. A nod from Shouta, and then Hizashi clapped a big hand on his head, ruffling his hair.

“Good meeting you, Shinso,” he said warmly.

“Yeah,” Shinso muttered, and slightly moved away from the contact. He nodded curtly, then went to Veridian’s side.

They stepped out into the cool night air, Veridian immediately breaking into a run in a random direction with Shinso in tow.

Inside, Hizashi started gathering up the plates while Shouta moved toward the sink.

“I’ve got it,” Hizashi said over his shoulder.

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Shouta replied, already heading toward their room with a blanket in hand. He needed to decompress from the overstimulation of Hizashi and Veridian in the same room for an hour or two. 

The dishes clinked in the sink, warm water running over Hizashi’s hands. He was still grinning from the way Shinso had been mobbed by cats at the table, but the smile kept faltering. 

 

Hizashi had a good memory. Nothing like Nedzu’s or Veridians, but he could remember things that sparked his interest and or emotions. Like a good night out on the town with Nemuri would be remembered but doing boring paperwork would go right out the window. 

Which is why he remembered a single comment from the first time Veridian had come to their house,

“…muzzle him from asking questions.”

Veridian had said it in passing weeks ago. He’d brushed it off at the time.

Now it sat in his chest like glass, and the smell of the dish soap was replaced with one much worse. 

 

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━  c( づ★‧₊˚⋆━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he crouched in the closet, shirt pulled over his nose to block out the reek of stale beer and cheap cigarettes. His parents were screaming again- sharp, ugly words that bent into each other until all he heard was noise. His father could suggest things using his words, and his mom could push small things away from her. Except for when she was pissed, then she could push his father across the room. 

Hizashi heard his body slam on his door, then his father opened it and practically crawled inside away from her.

Hizashi kept his mouth shut. That was the rule. Don’t make a sound. Don’t make it worse.

The door yanked open.

The light stabbed his eyes, and then his father’s fist was in the collar of his shirt, dragging him out so fast his knee slammed into the frame.

“You think hiding’s funny?” His father’s breath was hot and sour.

Hizashi didn’t answer.

The metal thing in his other hand clinked when it shifted. Leather straps dangled, stiff and cracked. The inside was lined with short, sharp studs that were just long enough to break skin.

He’d seen it before.

“No-” Hizashi’s voice cracked, and that was enough. The thing was shoved over his mouth, buckles cinched tight until his jaw ached.

The first panicked sound he made tore skin from his lip. Warm blood slid down his chin, and the sting doubled when he swallowed it by reflex.

His father smirked. “Now you’ll shut up.” 

Hizashi’s chest heaved, but every breath was shallow because the leather reeked of sweat and rust. The studs pressed into him with every tiny movement. The taste of blood thickened.

He sat there on his bedroom floor while his parents kept shouting at each other, his father occasionally glancing down to make sure he hadn’t moved.

Every time he swallowed, the points reminded him: this is what happens when you make noise.

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━  c( づ★‧₊˚⋆━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The sink water was still running when he came back to himself. Hizashi shut it off and leaned on the counter, shoulders tight. His hands trembled as he unscrewed the angel bites from his lip, setting them down one at a time.

The little white scars they covered caught the light. He quickly finished up the dishes and various other chores before heading to bed.

When he stepped into the bedroom, Shouta’s eyes went straight to his mouth.

“You took them out,” Shouta said, barely even awake.

Hizashi crossed the room and kissed him- just enough to taste the steadiness he didn’t have. “Yeah.”

“Why? You always complain about how they hurt to put back in.” 

“That thing Veridian said. About the muzzle the first time she came over,” Hizashi muttered, words heavier than he wanted them to be. “I just… couldn’t stop thinking about it. And him. Shinso’s not- he’s not gonna go through what I did. Not if we can help it.”

Shouta’s eyebrows raised, clearly caught off guard but he held no judgement. 

Hizashi’s voice broke. “Please. Let’s adopt him. Get him in therapy with Inui. Give him a home where he’s safe.”

Shouta studied him for a long, slow moment. Then he nodded once. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

Something in Hizashi eased, though his chest still ached. Shouta tugged him down into bed, one arm hooked around his neck.

“Lie down,” Shouta murmured.

“I’m fine-”

“Lie down.”

So he did. And for the first time all night, the past stayed quiet.

Hizashi was curled against Shouta’s chest, their legs tangled, his hair spilling across Shouta’s arm in a mess that would take hours to brush out.

Neither of them had moved for a long time, maybe an hour or two.

Shouta’s voice broke it- low, almost thoughtful. “Aizawa-Yamada.”

Hizashi cracked one eye open. “Bro. It’s like eleven at night. What?”

“His last name,” Shouta said, like it was obvious. “When we adopt him. Aizawa-Yamada.”

Hizashi groaned, half into the pillow. “Fuck no. Yamada-Aizawa.”

“That sounds ridiculous.”

“It rolls off the tongue.”

“I’ll roll you off the bed,” Shouta muttered.

Hizashi shifted so he could glare at him in the dark. “Say it out loud. Yamada-Aizawa.”

“…No.”

“Yamada-Aizawa.”

“No.”

“Ya-ma-da-”

“Shut up.”

There was a pause.

“Yamazawa?” Hizashi offered.

They both went silent for a beat, processing it.

“Sounds like a cheap whiskey,” Shouta finally said.

“Sounds like a brand of ramen,” Hizashi countered.

They both hated it instantly, and the shared disgust made them chuckle under their breath.

“Fine,” Hizashi mumbled, settling back into him. “We’ll just keep our names. He can pick if he wants.”

“Fine,” Shouta said, eyes already closing.

Within a minute, they were asleep once again- hair tangled, legs tangled, everything else left for tomorrow. Actually, Shouta was asleep. Hizashi not so much.

              /)/)

             ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)

 ┏━  c( づ★‧₊˚⋆━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Veridian adjusted her mask, jaw plate firmly attached. She was still buzzing from dinner. The warmth of Yamada’s cooking, the sound of Hitoshi’s laugh under a pile of cats, the way Aizawa had almost smiled. It all clung to her.

Hitoshi had stayed home, claiming he needed to “decompress.” Veridian suspected that meant “lie on his bed and stare at the ceiling for two hours while listening to music loud as hell,” but she wasn’t going to call him out on it.

Her patrol had been easy enough. A couple of guys looking for trouble; taken care of. Some lost tourists; redirected. Two drunk college kids; walked home without incident.

She was just about to head into the police station to talk to Tsukauchi- “Boo!”

Veridian jumped, instincts flaring, only to feel arms wrap tight around her from behind.

“YAMADA-” she hissed, the tension melting into a laugh as she hugged back. “You can’t sneak up on people like that! My heart’s gonna tap out one of these days.”

Yamada’s voice was vibrating with unspent energy. “SHOUTA SAID YES.”

She stumbled a little, momentarily dizzy from the sheer volume- both physical and Quirk-enhanced. “Okay, buddy, deep breaths. I’ll talk to Hitoshi tomorrow.”

Yamada was practically bouncing, but managed a dramatic inhale. He still had his PJ’s on which was a little concerning. Veridian assumed if Shouta said yes to trying to adopt Hitoshi then the first person he would go to would be Tsukauchi. Probably should have been an adoption lawyer, but I digress. 

“Oh, also,” he said, as if it were an afterthought, “Tsukauchi wanted me to fetch you. Says he needs you for a mission.” 

Her eyes lit up instantly. “Oooooo, I haven’t done a mission in, like… a month. I was starting to think he forgot about me!”

Yamada grinned, slinging an arm over her shoulder. “Guess you’re memorable after all.”

The two of them went on patrol together, and Veridian felt butterflies in her stomach thinking about what the mission might be.

Notes:

Now a couple things to note-

1. the cats pronouns change a whole lot, just pretend they are genderfluid.
2. If you noticed you can tell whos pov is whos based on names. When it swaps to Hizashi's pov Aizawa turns to Shouta and Hitoshi turns to shinso.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1HYEQwPqymYDJgHYLbPY4LcbXw09dPrTo11k-N4O5oEs/edit?usp=sharing- Photo Veridian sent plus the two's Outfits
https://docs.google.com/document/d/17BLaDFXgWNf7qUNmc-jZJI_DWBdowG6G0g8UGgH7ON0/edit?usp=sharing- Photo's of each Kitty plus their backstory's

Chapter 13: The calm before the storm

Summary:

Uh oh!

Notes:

Chapter thirteen! You know it’s gonna be good when it’s the unlucky thirteenth chapter.

Viví sat on the stone wall, legs swinging over the sand. Her hair was tied up in a loose knot, glasses perched low on her nose as she scribbled into a bright All Might–themed notebook. The previous night she had been briefed on the mission, and she hadn’t stopped stressing about it since. Typically Viví tries not to do any work as Veridian while out as Viví but this was too important.

 

A party hosted by Jack’s son, Wang.

Basically villain central. 

I’m gonna go in before all the heroes and write down each of their quirks so they have a better idea of what they’re walking into. It’s mostly harmless, and as long as I’m far enough away, I might be able to bring Hitoshi so he can help scout.

She tapped the pen against the page, glancing up when Toshinori’s voice carried across the sand. He was talking to Izuku about U.A. applications. They were due today. Viví’s pen stilled.

Down on the beach, Izuku jogged back and forth, hauling trash bags, muttering pep talks to driftwood and bottle caps. Toshinori, now in his thinner form, shuffled over and sat beside her, the tiny paper cup in his hand looking comically smaller still in his long fingers.

“He’s giving everything he drags a pep talk,” Toshinori said, his voice warm with amusement.

“Oh yeah,” Viví replied. “He used to do that with his stuffed animals.”

He chuckled. “Of course he did.”

They watched in companionable silence for a moment, Izuku nearly tripping over the same log for the third time.

Izuku Midoriya. He’ll be the world's greatest hero. He’s been training like hell with All Might to prepare himself for his quirk. I wonder how that’s gonna take, and how the world will do without.. without All Might.

“Do you think you’ll miss it?” she asked suddenly. They both knew she was referencing being a hero.

Toshinori hesitated, cup halfway to his mouth. “I already miss pieces of it,” he admitted. “The adrenaline. The clarity. The way everything slowed down when it mattered.” He sipped, then added with a faint grin, “I also miss being able to lift a bus.”

She snorted, then fell quiet again.

“Have you decided what class you’re applying for? I know you’ve been on the fence about applying at all.”

She hesitated before answering. “Analysis.”

His brows lifted, pleasantly surprised. “Ah. Makes sense. I remember when they shut that program down, but it’s perfect for you. I’m glad you decided- you know Izuku was worried you wouldn’t.”

“It’s the only one that fits. I don’t wanna fight… not like, fist-to-fist. But I want to be there. I want to know what’s going on. I want to call the plays. And I figure an analysis program can help me.”

“You’re really good at analyzing quirks… even though you’re quirkless.” He froze, fumbling with his hands. “Ah- sorry, that came out wrong-“

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m used to people saying quirkless like it’s a disease.”

He went still, then gave her a small, almost shy smile. “First time someone said it to me in a kind way, I didn’t think I heard them right.”

Viví blinked. “Wait… what?”

“I guess I never mentioned this,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was quirkless before I was given One For All. Probably should’ve put myself in that booklet I gave you.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You were-?”

“My mentor told me, ‘Being quirkless doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of my power. It doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of a good life.’”

She studied him. “You remember the exact quote?”

“I wrote it down. Put it in my shoe.”

“That’s weird.”

“I was seventeen.”

“That explains nothing.”

He laughed, quiet, from somewhere deeper than his lungs.

She didn’t exactly smile back. But her foot stopped tapping against the stone.

Her gaze flicked to her notebook again, the mission notes waiting for her, and she sighed, pen placed back on the notebook cover.

Neither of them said anything. Toshinori did look like he wanted to say something though. When he did, it was gentle.

“So,” he said. “How are you doing?”

She groaned immediately. “You did not just therapy-voice me.”

“I’m serious.”

“Gross.”

“You’re deflecting.”

She huffed. “Deflect deez nuts.”

They sat in silence a few seconds longer. Izuku’s muffled pep talks drifted up from the sand below, every now and then punctuated by the clatter of another can or bottle hitting the pile.

Viví spoke in a voice quieter than before, “I wasn’t gonna apply.”

Toshinori didn’t move.

“U.A., I mean,” she continued, still staring straight ahead. “I was just gonna… stay. Do my thing. Help where I could. Patch Izuku up when he got himself half-killed, chasing his dreams.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be part of his future,” she said. “That was never the plan.”

Toshinori glanced at her, but didn’t interrupt.

“I’m quirkless,” she said bluntly. “Still am. That means most people- hell, everyone - decided who I was before I even got a chance to. I got used to being the ghost in the room. Smart, sure. Useful, sometimes. But never the one in the photo. Never the story.”

Her voice didn’t crack.

But something in her posture did.

She pulled her sleeves down over her hands.

“I started looking at the Analyst Track because Izuku was gonna be there. But now… I think I want to go even if he wasn’t.”

Toshinori set his coffee cup down beside him.

She glanced over, guarded.

“Why him?” she asked. “Why Izuku? Why pick someone like him for something that big?”

He smiled without teeth. Just that soft little curve of the mouth that only showed up when he wasn’t being All Might, but just Toshinori.

“Because he runs toward danger,” he said. “Always has.”

“Why me?” she pressed. “Why haven’t you made me sign an NDA or get out of his path of greatness?”

“There’s a reason he doesn’t get hurt when he runs toward danger,” Toshinori said. “You taught him to see. You taught him to think while he moves. You taught him how to stay alive.”

She blinked.

Twice.

Then scrunched her nose. “God, that’s so cheesy. Ew. Take it back.”

“Nope.”

“I’m gonna file a complaint with HR.”

“I am HR.”

“Unbelievable.”

Izuku stumbled up the path from the sand, shirt sticking to his back and sleeves rolled unevenly. A bag of trash clinked behind him as he dragged it toward the stolen dumpster near the boardwalk.

He gave them both a thumbs-up. “Thirty bags. Four crabs rescued. One meaningful conversation with a hermit shell.”

Viví blinked slowly. “You smell like gym socks.”

“I am gym socks.”

“You and Toshinori hang out too much.”

All Might suddenly got a lot taller and had his signature grin. “You’re making great progress.”

“I’ve lost all concept of time.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Viví tossed him a water bottle. It hit him in the face and dropped into the sand. It got all covered in sand due to the condensation. 

“I was being helpful,” she said, deadpan.

“I think you bruised my nose.”

She hopped off the wall and landed beside him, hands on her hips. “Good. You’re not symmetrical enough. I’m doing you a favor.”

“Can you two please pretend to like each other?” All Might asked.

“We do,” they said in unison.

“…Oh,” he said. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Viví leaned down and grabbed her bag from where she’d left it tucked beside the seawall.

“We’re gonna head bring Izuku’s application in, you coming?” All Might asked.

She didn’t answer right away.

Just adjusted the strap, slinging it across her back. Then nodded, barely.

“I’m walking with you guys, right?” she said. “I mean-I just happen to be heading in the same direction. And I happen to have my letter…”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “Subtle.”

“I am subtle.”

“You’re about as subtle as a lighthouse.”

All Might watched them bicker as they started walking. He stayed a step behind but just close enough to hear the rhythm of it.

He looked back once.

The tide had come in. The beach was cleaner than it had been in years. 

 

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The bass from the party below rattled up through the concrete, a steady beat under Veridian’s boots.

She crouched on the rooftop edge, the city air heavy with exhaust and perfume drifting up from the open balcony doors two stories down.

Her notebook was against her knee, pen scratching in sharp, fast bursts.

Except- she wasn’t looking at it.

Hitoshi leaned against the vent behind her, arms folded, watching her eyes flick from one person to the next through the glass walls of the penthouse. Her voice was low and flat, almost mechanical.

“Right corner, gold dress- Quirk: pheromone projection, range about ten feet, probable trigger is eye contact. Guy in the vest- Quirk: density shift, only on skin. The one with the fugly ahh hat- Quirk: thermal manipulation, small-scale.”

She didn’t pause to check her spelling. Didn’t pause at all.

Hitoshi pressed a finger to his earpiece. “Pheromone projector, density shifter, thermal manipulator- clock positions are one, four, and ten. Marking possible high-threat on the first two.” He sounds so formal, I trained him so well! Aizawa had zero part. 

Tsukauchi’s voice crackled back, clipped and calm. “Copy. Keep going.”

Inside, champagne glasses clinked, a waiter slipped between bodies with a silver tray, and the whole room gleamed under a ridiculous chandelier.

Suddenly everything went dark.

The chandelier died first, a ripple of black swallowing the gold light. Spotlights blinked once, twice, and then a faint blue glow flared on the small stage near the far wall.

A man stood there.

Veridian shifted her weight, head tilting. “Need to hear him,” she muttered, already scanning for a path closer.

“V, wait-” Hitoshi started.

But she was already moving, slipping down the fire escape, cutting across the narrow rooftop that butted up against the penthouse terrace. The voices below sharpened as she crept along the edge.

“…tonight,” the man was saying, “we show them the cost of looking away.”

His voice rolled like heat in the air, but Veridian’s attention snagged on the faint shimmer crawling over his skin- like sunlight skimming water.

Shit.

The light caught on the edge of Hitoshi’s binoculars across the gap. Just for a second.

It was enough.

Shouts erupted inside, the crowd surging back toward the doors. Glass shattered. Heroes in black and red tactical gear poured into the room, their comms barking orders over the noise.

Veridian swore under her breath, vaulted the railing, and sprinted back toward the opposite rooftop.

“Hitoshi- move!”

She saw him rise from behind the vent just as the scrape of claws on concrete cut through the chaos.

She didn’t have to look long to know the man chasing her wasn’t a guest, but security.

Tall. Fast. Muscles stacked like armor plates under his shirt, and jagged white spikes jutting from his knuckles, forearms, even the ridges of his shoulders. 

Great. Just great. Exactly the kind of guy I’d avoid. No avoiding him now though.

Veridian didn’t fight to win- she fought to buy seconds. Just enough for Hitoshi to bolt. But for some reason, he stayed. Like he was paralyzed by his own quirk.

“Veridian’s under attack,” Hitoshi’s voice snapped over the comms, ragged with breath. “Two rooftops over. Heavy physical enhancement, multiple spikes.”

Aizawa’s reply was instant and blistering. “I told every single one of you he shouldn’t be here-” His voice cut off, replaced by pounding footfalls.

Veridian clicked the side off her mask, “Oh no you didn’t, you said it might be-“ She ducked a punch, “A valuable learning lesson and should be mostly-“ A bone spike swiped her leg, causing her to scream, “MOSTLY SAFE-“

Veridian got a few good hits in. She got a solid elbow to the ribs, a boot hooking his knee. But he was stronger. Every time she landed a strike, he slammed her back into the wall, cracking brick and rattling her bones.

Hitoshi made it halfway down the alley before the man lunged- spike driving straight for his face- 

And then she was there.

Her body took the blow, shoving him aside. The bone tore through the back of her suit and out her stomach, just enough to graze Hitoshi’s cheek.

 

Blood makes everything else around feel colder. That’s something she learned when she was nine when blood ran down her cheek and suddenly the rest of her body ran cold. She remembers thinking: Oh. I’m inside my body, but now my body’s outside me.

Veridian hit the wall hard, gasping.

The bone guy didn’t even say anything.

Just fought like someone who enjoyed it.

She was outmatched from the first blow.

Suddenly a shot rang through the alleyway, and there was also a hole in bone guys forehead. 

“HA- how’s it feel to take a-“ Veridian took a shuddered breath, “A deep breath through your FUCKING FOREHEAD.”

Her gloves were soaked. Her breathing was shallow and hissed. She pressed her back to the alley wall. Vision doubled.

Then came the scarf.

It wrapped around her waist like a steel trap, pulling her into Eraserhead.

“Veridian!” he hissed, already scanning for further threats. “You’re bleeding out- oh god that’s a lot of blood- I’m taking you in. Don’t argue.”

She struggled against him, weakly.

She twisted weakly in his hold. “I’m-” her stomach lurched, blood spilling inside the mask and dripping from the chin guard, “-fine-”

“You’re throwing up blood.” Hitoshi pointed out the blood dripping out of the mask. Hitoshi looked terrified, so she gave him a thumbs up.

“I’ve had worse-”

“You haven’t-”

“I SAID I’M FINE!”

She shoved Aizawa.

He didn’t let go. But he loosened, just barely.

“I can’t go to a hospital,” she said through clenched teeth. “I can’t. I’m still in the system. If they run my name-”

He cursed.

“Who cares, your going to die-“ 

“No. You’ll report it.”

“Veridian-”

“Please.”

Her voice cracked. Then Aizawa’s nose got cracked. She hooked him straight in the face. Then poof, Veridian’s gone.

Disappeared into the dark with only the sound of her footfalls and a blood trail marking the way.

Her HUD was glitching.

But the mask’s nav was still semi-functional. It led her through backstreets, over rooftops, between buildings she barely remembered crossing.

She thought she was heading home. She was wrong.

The address flickered once. 

Destination: Toshinori Yagi

She didn’t question it. Didn’t have the strength to.

She stumbled up the stairwell. Each step sent shocks up her spine. Her hand was inside trying to slow the bleeding. She didn’t dare pull it. Didn’t even dare to look.

She knocked once.

Weak.

Then again.

Harder.

The door creaked open.

And there he was.

He looked tired in a comfortable hoodie with his hair tied back.

She looked up at him, half-conscious, swaying-

“…Hi.”

Her voice was thin. Distant.

“I think I made a mistake.”

Then she collapsed.

Right into Toshinori’s arms.

Notes:

sooo... any thoughts and feelings we wanna share with the class? Also im gonna do a trashy writer thing and have her heal really quickly. Not like super quick, but quicker than she should have. Trustttttt.

Also srry for such a short chapter, the next one may be longer idk.

Chapter 14: TRAGIC BACKSTORY??? Well, ½ a tragic backstory.

Summary:

Viví gets stabbed in the stomach then stabbed in the heart!

Notes:

Viví finally talks to SOMEONE. I swear this bitch, and ykw at least it isn’t like that one girl who used her chat gpt as a therapist. Then the clanker convinced her that her irl real HUMAN therapist was in love with her.

There was a weight in her ribs.

Not the heavy kind you carry when you’re sad.

The sharp kind.

The kind that meant something important was leaking out of you.

Light pressed against her eyelids, but she couldn’t open them quite yet. They clung to the darkness, the cold. A chill went through her spine, and she took a shuddered breath. With it came sensation. The sting of the air, the hum of her blood, her thoughts whispering for her mind to wake up. Her sense of sound finally came back as her mind finally booted back up. 

“-stupid. Stupid, stupid. What were you thinking-”

Someone was speaking.

They are angry- no, scared. 

“Bleeding out, you absolute- this is why we go to hospitals-”

The voice cracked, then steadied.

Viví’s eyes fluttered open.

The ceiling was unfamiliar. It was yellowed and streaked with water damage in the corners. The lights above hit her vision too hard and her eyes began to water. The air smelled like antiseptic making her nose sting.

Her side burned. Her hand slowly crept to her stomach, flinching the second her fingers grazed a bandage. 

Running, then the jump, the air tearing past her mask. Hitoshi’s face, wide-eyed but alive. A shadow moving too fast. The pull of a scarf. Too late. Something is wrong. My hands- why are my hands wet- why is it so cold-

Toshinori was kneeling beside her on the floor, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a first aid kit open and raided for all it was worth. His hands, shaking and slick with blood, pressed gauze into her side. Her shirt was on the floor behind him, a hole going through it so she could see the hardwood under it. Her wound had been stitched roughly and fast, with pressure pads still taped in place. 

It hurt. God, my stomach hurts. My dad made me hot coco when my tummy hurt. I want my dad. I want…

“Hospital,” he muttered, reaching for a phone with one hand. “You need a hospital. Internal bleeding, infection, shock- this is beyond-”

Viví twitched. Her body screamed like every nerve was being lit on fire.

Her gaze snapped to the phone.

Something flickered behind her eyes. Not a thought, not even a memory. Just instinct, fast and violent. 

Her arm snapped upward- faster than even she expected- and cracked. The phone split in two in his hand. Toshinori flinched as pieces scattered across the hardwood floor. 

Viví’s breathing hitched.

“I’m…” she tried, voice small and wet. Wet by blood, which was now dribbling down her cheek.

He looked at her, fear curling up in his stomach. Her eyelids were already sinking.

“I’m sorry…”

And she was gone again.

           ᕬ ᕬ

          („. .„)

 ┏━ 🍓⊂ ) ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Viví stirred, groaning softly. Everything hurts. Literally everything. But she no longer had this haze in her head, she could think clearly once again. 

The couch beneath her creaked.

Every single part of her body was covered in sweat. Her hair stuck to her neck, and it felt like she had been dipped in a pool. Her stomach was in this weird inbetween, like that feeling of almost sneezing, but it was the feeling of almost lurching. She felt like a kid kneeling on the bathroom floor, Izuku behind her holding her hair, while she tried not to throw up. 

Toshinori was seated in the kitchen just across from her- still in his thin form, elbows on the counter, mug between both hands like he was trying to pull warmth from it. The blood had been washed from his hands, and the medkit had been cleaned up. He was breathing in the steam from the tea. Understandable, it smelt wonderful. I want some.

He didn’t look up right away.

“I made tea,” he said, like that could undo everything.

She blinked at him, went to speak but he cut her off,  “You passed out. Lost a lot of blood.”

“I… tried to call a hospital,” he added softly.

She stiffened.

“You broke my phone.”

She blinked harder, tears spilling over the edges. 

“Oh… Sorry. I’ll uh, buy you a new one.”

He finally looked over. His eyes were too soft, they held an understanding that both confused and enraged Viví. 

She hated it. Being looked down on like this. He liked her, he had let Izuku and her call him dad. Now she bled out on his doorstep, and broke his phone, and now he pities her. Now he hates her. 

“I didn’t know,” he said, quietly. “You and Izuku… you never talk about your mom. I just assumed she was busy. I should’ve known the statistics of abuse against quirkless kids. Hell I should’ve known because of my own father. But now, you had to almost die for me to realize-”

Viví sat up too fast. The room tilted, her stomach finally lurched. 

“No- what?” she mumbled.

He didn’t push. Didn’t finish the sentence as he looked at her side. Blood seeping from the bandage slightly.

At the others, a few bandaids on her arms and one on her leg. At the bruise above her hip.

At the scar under her eye. The scars all around her body. 

She saw the shape of what he was thinking.

And she hated it.

Viví pushed the blanket off and swung her legs around, wincing, blood dribbling from her lips once again. 

“I need air,” she muttered.

“You shouldn’t-”

“Just- just a second.”

She shoved the sliding door open and stepped out onto the porch of the apartment complex.

She slammed into the wall, and crouched slowly beside the small potted plant in the corner- some little yellow thing, barely holding on in the summer heat.

She reached in, then behind.

Toshinori stepped into the doorway behind her, confused and terrified at the blood trail from the couch to the pot. He was wondering how she hadn't passed out yet. 

Viví pulled out a rabbit mask.

Cracked at the jaw. Dried blood under the chin. White and green paint chipped at the edges. She figured she put it there while delirious and bleeding out. 

Toshinori went completely still.

“…What is that?” he asked, even though he knew. 

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t look up.

She just sat there, mask in hand, eyes down, shoulders pulled inward. A hand came to her stomach as it lurched once again. 

 

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

 

   

           ᕬ ᕬ

          („. .„)

 ┏━ 🍓⊂ ) ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Viví perched on the edge of the couch, knees tucked slightly, hands fidgeting with her hair. Her eyes flickered from Toshinori to the rabbit mask on the table. It seemed to glare back at her. The air between them felt heavy and thick enough to taste. It tasted like anxiety.

On the other side of the couch, Toshinori slouched into the couch cushions, one arm draped over the back and the other resting on his knee. His eyes were wide, blinking like he still hadn't registered the image of Viví holding the mask in what seemed like a confession. His mouth twitched as if to speak, but nothing came. 

Viví shifted again, biting the inside of her cheek, her scarred eye seeming to burn with tears threatening to fall. “You… you're not saying anything.” she murmured as her throat got tighter and tighter. 

Toshinori’s hand shifted, fingers holding onto the armrest because he needed to grasp something. He couldn't physically grasp the concept of Viví, his illegitimate child, being a vigilante. He finally let out a breath that was between a laugh and a sigh. 

Viví’s knee bounced, her heel tapping the floor. Finally, she broke. “Can you say something?”

Her voice was barely a whisper. She looked up, but not at him- just at the corner of the room. Like she couldn’t quite bear the direct hit.

“You’re a hero.”

Viví audibly gasped.

“I’ve heard the stories,” he said, quietly. “Police reports. Backchannel rumors. I’ve heard about the blur that stopped a human trafficking ring. About the vigilante who pulled a kid out of a collapsing warehouse five seconds before rescue arrived. About the person who dropped off a binder full of villain behavior patterns to Tsukauchi’s desk and disappeared before he could say thank you.”

She didn’t move.

“The crime rate dropped by nearly 1.5% in your patrol zone over the past few years,” he continued. “No hero agency covers it. No one’s officially assigned. But that dip is real. And no one could explain it.”

He turned his gaze to the mask.

“A lot of people don’t even believe you exist,” he said. “They think you’re a myth. A shared delusion.”

Then he looked at her directly. Viví tried not to cry.

“And now you’re sitting on my couch.”

She looked down.

“You’re just a girl,” he said. “Thirteen. Depressed. Quirkless. Barely breathing.”

She slumped lower with each word. Pressure being placed on the bandage felt better than what she thought he was going to say.

“But clearly…”

He hesitated, trying to find the words. 

“Clearly you are more than meets the eye.”

Viví flinched like he’d hit her.

Toshinori could read her. She thought he was disappointed, she thought she’d ruined it.

Viví didn’t speak.

Her head dropped further, chin nearly on her knees. The silence filled the apartment again- but this time, it was louder. Like something inside her was holding its breath.

Toshinori leaned forward.

“Hey.”

She didn’t look up.

“I’m not mad.”

Her shoulders twitched.

“I’m not angry. And I’m not going to tell anyone. Not the police. Not Izuku. Not even Tsukauchi. Who, by the way, lives right next door. I had to tell him a homeless man had gotten hurt and was on his way to the hospital when he asked about the blood on the porch.”

Viví’s breath caught in what sounded like a laugh. 

“Ignoring that, I meant what I said,” he continued. “You’re a hero.”

“Not legally,” she muttered.

“I’ve never cared much for the legal part.”

That finally got a small, hoarse laugh out of her.

“Why?” Toshinori blurted out.

“Why do all this?” he said. “Why become Veridian? Why risk your life, your safety, your future- for a city that wouldn’t give you the time of day?”

Viví opened her mouth then closed it again.

“It’s a long story.”

Toshinori nodded.

“You’re going to be staying here for a few days while you heal,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So we have time.”

Viví stared at him.

No disbelief.

No panic.

Just… pause.

She took a deep breath. Like it was the first breath after being underwater too long. She would need her oxygen for this story. 

She spoke softly- a flattened voice, all her usual sharp edges worn down by memory.

“I was eight. It started with a mural,” she said. “These kids had drawn this piece on the side of the school. Spray paint, stencils, and some chalk flowers. It lowkey wasn’t even that good. They signed it with ‘worthless viví, nothing but a smudge on the walls of this school.”

She huffed a bitter little laugh.

“The principal concluded that my name was on it, therefore I had done it.”

Toshinori listened without speaking.

Viví’s hands twisted in her sleeves.

“Next thing I knew, my dad was in the principal’s office. I remember the photo. Spider lilies. They said it was unbecoming.”

Then her voice changed. Detached. As if the words were already burned into her.

“We don’t take kindly to vandalism. There are alternative programs. Private. Off the record.”

“There’s one in particular, specializes in behavioral reconditioning. Full immersion, full isolation. Highly secure. It’s had great results with other problem children.”

“It’s called The Burrow.”

Viví blinked, tears brimming already. Her skull throbbed. 

“He told everyone I was going to America. To see family.”

Toshinori finally reached forward. Not a big gesture, just placed a hand gently over hers, anchoring her to the here and now.

Viví didn’t pull away. She just closed her eyes. 

“This is a pretty gruesome story I really don’t think-“

“Please. You said this happened when you were eight, and clearly you’ve never told anyone. Clearly, you need to.” Toshinori gave her a look that let her know she could let it out. 

Viví took a deep breath and recalled… 

           ᕬ ᕬ

          („. .„)

 ┏━ 🍓⊂ ) ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sky was gray that morning.

She had been woken up early to pack. Viví hated waking up early during the summer. But it was worth it, she was gonna get to see her auntie’s and uncle’s! 

Viví sat in the passenger seat of her father’s car, her knees pulled up, her backpack hugging her shins. A small suitcase rested between her feet. One pair of shoes. Two shirts. A blanket she’d stolen from Izuku’s bed the night before. Also his second favorite All Might plushy. 

“I’ll be back in a week, right?” she asked, glancing over at him.

Hisashi took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled through the cracked window. He didn’t answer.

“Izuku said he wants me to bring him back a snow globe,” she tried again. “For, like, America. Do they even make those anymore?”

Silence.

She stared out the window.

They were past the city now. Roads were thinning down to one lane. Trees were growing taller and tighter. Her stomach felt like a fist. Then the turn came. She didn’t recognize it. Viví remembered the path they took a couple years ago, this wasn’t it. 

The car veered off the main road and onto a narrow, paved lane flanked by chain-link fences and dead grass.

Viví sat up straighter. “Where are we?”

Still, no answer.

Ahead was a tall gate with a “private property” sign. 

Two men in black jackets stood beside it. As the car slowed, they stepped forward. One of them knocked on her window.

Her heartbeat doubled.

“Dad?”

The door opened.

And then… hands.

Rough hands, big hands, cold hands. 

She kicked them and screamed and twisted like a cat in a bag. She even bit one of them.

“LET GO! LET GO OF ME-“

One of them cuffed her wrists. Another grabbed her jaw, forced her still. 

She saw her father through the windshield.

He was lighting another cigarette and flicking through a fat stack of cash. 

She screamed again.

One of them men pushed something onto her face. 

It sealed over her mouth and nose before she could even take a breath. She clawed at it, nails scraping, but it locked tight with a hiss- like a jar lid twisting shut.

She stared at her reflection in the car window. White. Blank. A painted grin stretched across the jawline, wide and empty.

Her own scream bounced back at her, muffled and warped inside the shell. Each inhale stuck in her throat, shallow and sharp, because the mask could choose when to give air and when to choke it off.

She tried to rip it away. It didn’t budge. A click sounded at the hinge, and the man holding her wrists laughed under his breath.

“Password locked,” he muttered, almost casual. “It’s yours now.”

Through the eyeholes, everything looked too bright. Too close. Her father pocketed the money, smoke curling out the window. He finally looked at her. Smiled and waved. The mask smiled for her.

She couldn’t.

 

           ᕬ ᕬ

          („. .„)

 ┏━ 🍓⊂ ) ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

She’s not crying.

That would’ve been easier to understand.

Viví sits cross-legged on the floor, head bowed, The living room is dim. Outside the window, the sun’s slowly coming up.

The rabbit mask still sits on the coffee table.

It’s been changed. There’s a splash of green, and ears now. The ears were added as extra antennae, along with the whiskers. The green was because she had to modify that side due to her eye injury, but she couldn’t find the same plastic they used. She could only find it in green. 

Toshinori watches her from the couch, looking absolutely disgusted. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he moves.

Slowly and without making any sudden sounds. Likes she’s a wild animal he has to be cautious around.

He kneels beside her, unfolding a blanket in his hands. Gently, he drapes it over her shoulders.

She flinches again. Only a little. She leans into him. It’s the kind of lean that happens when you’re tired and you stop pretending you aren’t. Her shoulder presses against his. Her head tilts slightly, resting near his arm.

“They ran tests,” she says. Voice thin, brittle. “Bloodwork first. Took… so many samples. Said they were checking for dormant quirk genes. Which-like, okay, I’m twelve. Diagnosed quirkless for seven years, I even have the toe joint.” She chuckled and looked down at her obnoxious red shoes, the quirkless brand. 

Toshinori looked kinda confused, never having heard of this fact. He didn’t mention it and let her continue.

Viví took a shaky breath, this was the easy part.

“They hooked wires up to my head next. Lights. Sound triggers. I don’t even remember half of it. Just the cold. And the lights.”

Viví’s hands shift to a bracelet. The one with the tiny plastic cat, her friendship bracelet with Aizawa. Her fingers tremble. She needed something to hold.

“They tested intelligence next. Puzzles. Reflexes. Memory. I think I broke their scoring system.”

Her voice flattens. Like she’s quoting something.

“‘This subject scored at 99.99th percentile for executive reasoning and abstract thought. Potential asset. Recommend Hex Code sorting.’”

She pauses, smiled spreading. 

“That’s how I got my own name.”

“Name?” Toshinori asks quietly.

Viví nods once.

“The higher the score, the more they cared about you. People they didn’t care about were just numbered, people who were in certain groups would have different letters and such. People who were important, got colors. Hex Codes.”

A beat.

“They started to call me 40826D. Like it was cute. Like I’d won something.”

Her small smile turned into a shit eating grin.

“That’s where I met him.”

Toshinori turns slightly. “Who?”

Viví finally looks up.

“The 100th percentile..”

“885f01, hex code for Rat Brown. Or as you would know him, Nedzu.”

 

           ᕬ ᕬ

          („. .„)

 ┏━ 🍓⊂ ) ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sometimes, they took the mask off.

Not for kindness but for tests. If they needed to do sedation, or to let them see their faces so they don’t go insane.

After the bloodwork. After the reflex drills. After they hooked wires to her skull and asked her to watch blinking shapes for hours. They’d take it off, wipe her face, and strap her back into a chair in the corner of her room. It was a shared room. Highest security. She shared it with 885f01. 

She didn’t know why she was there and not with the other quirkless kids. They didn’t tell her she was a genius, or that she was important. They just shoved her around. The only time she got to herself was when she was alone with 885f01.

That’s when she’d talk.

Not to them.

To the wall.

She’d speak softly, sometimes barely above a whisper.

“Izuku’s probably still at the bus stop,” she’d say, more to herself than anything. “He always double checks the schedule even though he’s memorized it. Dork.”

She’d press her cheek against the wall’s cold metal.

“Kacchan used to like hanging out with me. I remember he used to push me on the swings, making it so super fast with his explosions.”

No response.

“Mom hasn’t been home in weeks,” she murmured once. “I don’t think she likes to look at us anymore. She still loves Izuku though. I’m glad they have each other."

Silence.

She never talked much about her father.

She didn’t like what her voice sounded like when she tried.

Sometimes she played games to keep the quiet from swallowing her.

“Do you have a seven?” she asked the ceiling once. “Any threes? Go fish.”

She let the silence answer.

“Ahah! Blackjack! Jack of spades and ace of hearts!”

“Ouuu, straight to the boardwalk. And I own it, gimmy a thousand dollars.” 

“King to F5.”

A pause.

Faint, from the corner of the room came a tired and slightly squeaky voice-

“Pawn to C7.”

Viví froze.

Turned her head.

The shadowy bars in the corner of the room were speaking to her. Nobody had ever spoken. She thought the room was empty. But someone had answered.

“After that,” she says now, mind back in Toshinori’s living room instead of her prison cell, “everything changed.”

They played chess by any means necessary. Speaking. Morse code. Sign language. Blinking. Scratching moves into the wall with nails or stolen pen caps. They changed methods constantly-because the guards noticed. Because the orderlies tried to stop it.

It became a game within the game.

“They’d move our rooms. We’d find each other again. They took away paper, so we carved coordinates into our plastic utensils. It was kinda fun.”

Viví doesn’t laugh when she says it.

Toshinori doesn’t either.

“Then we realized,” she continues, “if we could play chess… we could communicate.”

It became intel.

Viví told him everything she’d seen: the hallways, the doors, the guards’ rotations. What codes they punched.

He told her how he’d been taken, walking down the steps of UA. Definitely targeted.

They shared everything they knew.

They made a plan.

A dangerous one.

And it worked.

Mostly.

“We made it out,” she whispers. “But we had to run. I lost him.”

Toshinori leans in. “Does he know who you are?”

Viví shakes her head. “I only had my number. Even if he saw glimpses of my face is was probably all puffy and bloodied from the suction. So to him I was just a voice and a mask.”

“All he knew about me… was my number.”

She takes off a thin metal plate from the mask that was worn nearly smooth.

She presses it into Toshinori’s hand.

“40826D,” she says.

“Hex code for Veridian.”

 

Toshinori turns the metal over in his hand.

40826D.

It’s crude, scratched into aluminum or cheap steel, the kind of plaque you’d find in a hospital-except colder. This one wasn’t meant to identify someone in case they got lost. It was meant to mark her as lost.

A code instead of a name.

Viví curls against the arm of the couch, legs tucked under her. Her eyes are open, barely. Her hair sticks to her temple where the sweat from her fever hasn’t quite dried.

She looks like a kid again.

Like a kid who never got to be one.

Toshinori stares at the bracelet.

This whole time…

This tiny, foul-mouthed, caffeine-drunk kid-

The sister to his successor.

The vigilante the police have been chasing for four years. Tsukauchi’s, his best friend’s, biggest headache.

And she was right in front of him, drinking energy drinks and calling his muscle form “All Muscle No Brain.”

And her story-her real story-it’s not even done yet.

He breathes slowly through his nose.

“So…” he says, “that’s why you’re a vigilante? To fight the people who hurt you? To… find justice?”

Viví stares at the ceiling for a moment.

Then smirks.

“Mostly,” she says. “There was also the whole thing with my dad cutting my face up then a villain burning my house down and killing him, but that’s a story for another time.”

The man was too stunned to speak.

She yawns, slow and wide, then flops onto her side like a fainting goat.

Her hand presses lightly to the bandage on her side, the same way someone might hold a stomachache.

“Anyway. I’m sleepy.”

Toshinori just watches her for a few seconds longer.

Then set the piece of metal carefully on the table.

He stays sitting beside her.

Notes:

Ik what you’re thinking. “Omggg not another experimentation OC!” Yes. Another experimentation oc. Trust the burrow is not just a throwaway topic, it’s very important. Also I fear I should’ve mentioned this but the story does not follow the og plot of MHA.

Chapter 15: Panic

Summary:

People are panicking!

Notes:

HOUSE MD???? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY MHA FANFIC??

The crack came first.

It was sickening, and wet. Hitoshi has broken many bones, he knows the sound, but this was worse. So much worse.

Then there was the scream.

Not his.

Her.

Veridian screaming- and then laughing, her manic cackle echoing off the walls while she staggered, holding herself together with nothing. She was clearly out of it, double stepping and shuffling, her words slurred and tumbled over each other like she couldn’t even control her tongue anymore. 

Then there was a gunshot, and Hitoshi was covered in more blood. And brains.

The man’s body was laying on the ground dead. Veridian was dying. There was blood on the walls, and there was blood on his face. 

Arguing and yelling, her fighting back.

In the blink of an eye he was in a car.

The seatbelt cut across his chest painfully. His hands were red. Not just red but shining with blood, still tacky in the cracks of his fingernails. He stared down at them, barely recognizing they were his. His own face stung, a cut dripping sluggishly under his eye where the bone spike had grazed him. The bone sticking out of her stomach swiping close to my eye, god it hurt but there was so much blood oh no where is Viví-

In front of him, Yamada was driving like a maniac, their knuckles bone-white on the wheel. Aizawa was twisted halfway in his seat, eyes darting over Hitoshi with straight terror. “You’re fine,” Aizawa muttered, more to himself than to Hitoshi. His scarf was still dripping with blood from when it was wrapped around her waist. “You’re okay. She’s okay. She’ll- she’s…” His voice faltered, and he ground his teeth together.

Hitoshi couldn’t hear the rest. Couldn’t think past the red. His hands. His clothes. The taste of copper on his tongue where he’d bit his lip. 

And the sound- her scream- burned into his ears, ringing and looping over and over and over an d over and over and over STOP.

He pressed his palms over them, smearing blood across his face. “Make it stop,” he whispered, so faint it was almost lost under the hum of the engine. “Make it stop, make it-”

Yamada’s voice broke, desperate and too loud in the enclosed car. “Shinso, hey- hey, look at me, kiddo! You’re safe! You’re with us!”

But Hitoshi couldn’t lift his head. He couldn't unclench his jaw. The moment kept looping, over and over and over, until the world was nothing but blood and screaming. 

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Hitoshi couldn’t stop shaking, and had screamed once or twice. Though they were majorly drowned out by Yamada’s quirked screams. Aizawa and Yamada had to physically drag Hitoshi into the house, as he kept clinging to everything he got his hands on. 

They would have to fix their mailbox another day. 

His chest rattled with shallow, broken gasps, each one more painful than the last. His nails dragged down his own arms, streaking blood already there with new angry marks. His eyes were wide but unfocused, darting from wall to wall like he could still see her bleeding in front of him. Blood splattering into his face, her slamming into the ground, getting up and heading face first for the wall with blood everywhere that much blood shouldn’t be outside the body. There’s no way she could survive that nobody loses that much blood..

“Kid- hey Hitoshi- eyes on me.” Yamada’s voice strained from too much yelling, Aizawa across the room turning the lights down, desperate to calm him down at least slightly.. “You’re here, not there. You’re here with us, okay?”

But Hitoshi folded forward with a choking sound that wasn’t words, fists pressed against his head like he could claw the memory out.

Aizawa crouched low, face unreadable but steady, voice deep and even like a lifeline. “In,” he instructed, drawing his own slow breath for Hitoshi to follow. “Out. That’s the only job you have right now. In. Out.”

The boy sucked air too fast, coughed, gagged, tried again, still failing his lungs are failing I can’t breathe. His body trembled, shoulders jerking with every desperate inhale. 

Aizawa didn’t look away. “She’s alive,” he said firmly. “She- She has to be alive. I know she…” Aizawa paused for a moment, his face slowly twisting into one of distraught.

The words barely touched Hitoshi, and Aizawa couldn't convince himself at all. Hitoshi took one look at his face and wailed.

Yamada’s throat burned. Their fingers twitched, wanting to grab, to hug, to do something- anything- but Aizawa shot them a look: Be steady. Don’t overwhelm him. 

All Yamada could do was hold Aizawa’s hand. The sight of Yamada comforting Aizawa somehow stunned Hitoshi enough for him to get a breath in. He was still sobbing, but he was less completely panicked and out of his mind and more just scared for his friend. Adults never do that. Usually they tell me to shut up or they break an arm and give me something to actually cry. Veridian probably cracked a rib and is bleeding out and dying before ever saying goodbye to her brother’s she can’t leave me I need her.

A knock rattled the front door.

Yamada froze. Another knock, louder this time. The sound traveled through the room. 

Aizawa’s eyes flicked up for only a second before locking back on Hitoshi. His hand settled firm and grounding against the boy’s shoulder. “Go,” he murmured.

Yamada swallowed hard, pushed to their feet. Their stomach was already sinking, some old instinct warning them this wasn’t just a neighbor. Their steps felt heavy, every one dragging against the carpet as the knock came again, deliberate, impatient.

They reached the door, hand hovering just a beat too long over the knob before they yanked it open. 

Two figures stood there. Badges clipped, clipboards in hand, neat pressed clothes. Their eyes went immediately over Yamada’s shoulder, scanning the noise inside.

Foster care badges. Fuck. They had started the process of talking to foster care so they knew they were going to show up at some point, but this was quite possibly the WORST point. 

Hitoshi’s vision was blurred, wet and salt-stung. Shapes twisted on the porch, tall and sharp, like monsters dressed in fancy clothes. His stomach plummeted.

He knew these two. They were two that had been there from the start. Mr. Takahashi and Mr. Takana. 

He knew what they meant.

Mr. Takahashi smiled at him, but Mr. Takana glared at him. Then he flashed his teeth, and to anyone else would look like a smile. Hitoshi knew better.

The sound he made wasn’t even human anymore. He jolted back, knees scraping on the floor as he scrambled for Aizawa’s side. His hands clawed desperately at fabric, clinging, sobbing so hard his breath came in shrieks.

“No- no no no no- don’t let them take me- don’t let them-” His voice cracked into helpless crying, his whole body trembling like he was a little kid again, begging not to be sent to a new home but still waiting for them to drag him away.

Yamada’s chest went tight, their hand already snapping to the knob and slammed the door shut so hard the frame rattled.

The two caseworkers startled back, one raising a brow, the other frowning down at their clipboard. Mr. Takahashi had never seen him so distraught, usually he was quiet and a shell of a child. Takana has seen me this distraught. He knows why. Sick son of a bitch.

Yamada’s pulse roared in his ears. He turned, checking Aizawa- steady hand on Hitoshi, grounding him, his dark eyes flicking up with a silent order.

Yamada exhaled, forced their jaw loose, then opened the door again.

“Good evening,” one of the caseworkers began smoothly, already holding up an ID. “I’m Takana, this is Takahashi, We’re with-”

SLAM.

Their words cut off by the door being slammed in their face once again. 

The taller one, Takahashi, blinked, clearly irritated now.

Yamada leaned their forehead briefly against the door, muttering under their breath, “Shitshitshitshit.” Their heart thudded like a drum. They couldn’t keep slamming the door in their faces. That would only make it worse.

On the third try, they forced themself out onto the porch, shutting the door tight behind them.

“Listen,” they started, hands up like they was calming a crowd. “You’re hearing him cry, you’re seeing the blood… yeah. But you need to know, my husband and I, we’re pro-heroes. Licensed. We were on a mission, the kid was supposed to be far enough away and just observing. The kid got hurt when things went sideways.”

Mr. Takana eyed his clipboard, pen hovering. “Why was a child present at all?”

Yamada swallowed. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that-”

Mr. Takahashi crossed his arms. “And why wasn’t he taken to a hospital if he was injured?” 

“He’s safer here,” Yamada snapped, then immediately regretted how sharp it came out. Logically they really did know how this looked, but it was a special scenario they didn’t understand. They tried again, softer. “Eraserhead is patching him up now. He's not too hurt physically, but he saw.. He saw a friend of his get stabbed.”

Both caseworkers exchanged a look. Not unsympathetic but not convinced either.

“You realize how this sounds?” Mr. Takana said evenly. “A child, injured, emotionally distressed, in the custody of two men who have not explained why they have him, and have had him for at least a week and haven't given him back to his actual foster family. We can’t ignore that.”

Yamada’s stomach dropped.

Inside, Hitoshi’s sobs bled faintly through the walls. 

The agent adjusted his clipboard, flipping through papers with an audible snap.

“We were supposed to check on Hitoshi Shinsou at his foster placement tonight, then report back to Officer Tsukauchi about his status so you could move on with the adoption process. His guardians reported, however, that he'd run away.”

Yamada bit their tongue. “They- what?”

The man’s lips pressed into a line. “They said he was unstable, resistant to rules. That he took off. They assumed he’d come back eventually, but-” he gave Yamada a long, pointed look- “instead he’s here.”

Behind the door, muffled but clear, Hitoshi froze. Every muscle went rigid. His tears slowed, not because he calmed, but because something colder than panic was crawling over his skin.

Ran away.

That’s what they told them. 

They had told him to get out. That heroes had to survive, so if he wanted to be a hero that bad to get out on the streets. Either give up his UA application or get out.

His chest ached, but he was glad for the shock so he could get some deep breathes in. His foster parents had lied, of course they had. Aizawa and Yamada were put in a very tough position right now and Hitoshi sobbing didn’t help at all. But his mind kept flashing back and suddenly he’s crying again. 

Aizawa’s gaze flicked to him, sharp and cutting. He didn’t speak- he just continued cleaning the wound under his eye. Hitoshi barely felt it. His ears were buzzing, every word outside drilling into him.

“Alright,” the taller agent said briskly, stepping inside. “That settles it. He’s coming with us tonight.”

Hitoshi’s vision blurred again. Run, run like Viví did. Punch them in the face and never look back, follow her, get out get- leave me here please. He pressed his fists into his eyes but it didn’t stop the wet from spilling out, hot streaks against his cold skin.

“No-” he whispered, voice cracking. “No, don’t-”

Aizawa heard them. His whole posture changed, shoulders rolling back and neck cracking. When he spoke, his voice was low.

“You’re not taking him anywhere.”

The two agents stiffened. Takahashi squared his jaw, but Aizawa was already leaning into the threat.

“This child is under my roof. My license. If you think I’m letting strangers drag him out after what he’s just been through- you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

Yamada’s hands shot up between them, their grin forced and desperate.

“Hey, hey, let’s all breathe, yeah? Look, he’s traumatized, he’s bleeding, he’s terrified out of his skull. Please, just… Please don’t make him move again tonight. Let him stay where he feels safe.”

One of the men shook their head, not unkind but unmovable. “You don’t understand. If we ignore a placement violation and something happens to him, it’s our careers. Our liability. The report already shows red flags. From what we see he is not safe here. We have to follow procedure.”

Takana pulled out a phone and Yamada restrained themself from smacking it into the air and strangling the man. “We’ll call transport. Get him to a holding facility until the morning.”

Hitoshi heard every word.

Holding facility.

Until morning.

He curled in on himself, trembling, breath shallow.

It didn’t matter what they said. It didn't matter that Aizawa’s voice had dropped into a growl, or that Yamada was practically begging. The message was clear- 

He was something to be handled. Moved around. A problem to file away.

Just like before.

Aizawa’s phone was already in his hand, thumb scrolling with practiced speed. His voice stayed level, clipped. The phone was to his ear, and he spoke with urgency. 

“Foster care is here. Yes. Now. I don’t care what time it is.”

He glanced up at the workers, eyes narrowing. “You’ll wait.”

Takahashi approached Hitoshi. He had a kind face, voice softer than the other who was yelling at Aizawa. He shifted uncomfortably before crouching near Hitoshi.

“Hey there,” he said quietly, like someone coaxing a frightened animal. “I know this is scary. But we need to get you somewhere safe for tonight.”

Hitoshi flinched back, fists twisting in the fabric of Aizawa's shirt.

“Don’t wanna,” he mumbled, voice wet and shaky. “Don’t- don’t take me- ”

The man tried again, gentler. “I promise it won’t be for long. Just until we can figure things out in the morning. You’ll have a bed, food, people to-“

“NO!” Hitoshi’s voice cracked, rising into a raw sob. He pressed his face into Aizawa’s side, clutching him like he was the only solid thing left. “I’m not leaving! My sister- my sister’s out there, I can’t- don’t make me-”

Aizawa’s arms closed around him instantly, his chest tight with helpless anger. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re not going anywhere,” he murmured into Hitoshi’s hair, though his eyes were locked on the agent with fire.

The worker sat back on his heels, caught between procedure and the sight of a bleeding, terrified boy clinging for dear life. He looked at Yamada, silently asking for direction.

Aizawa clicked his phone off, jaw tight. 

Hitoshi let out a breath, then looked up at the two case workers. “You guys will wait, right?”

“Wait for what?” “What do you mean?” 

Both adgents faces fell, they stumbled for a moment. Their eyes turned to static, and Hitoshi’s voice dropped.

“Sit on the couch. You want to stay and wait for… whatever Aizawa called for. You will hear them out, and your going to let me stay.” Hitoshi’s gaze was unreadable, voice low and sure.

They sat down, clipboards dropping from Takana’s hands. They sat across from the three. Yamada waved a hand in front of the two for a second, before whistling. 

Aizawa patted Hitohshi on the back, “Someone’s coming to sort this out.”

Yamada snickered, “Man.. that is so cool.” 

“I don’t know how long I can hold them…” Hitoshi closed his eyes, two fingers on his temple as he sat back and focused his hold. Aizawa pulled him to his side, smiling slightly at Yamada. 

The room had gone hushed again. Hitoshi had exhausted himself into silence, his face hidden against Aizawa’s sleeve. The boy’s shoulders still trembled with his focus, but his fists had finally loosened, one knotted in the fabric of Aizawa’s hoodie instead of tearing at his own skin. 

Yamada smoothed a hand down his hair, humming softly under his breath. The workers sat in front of them, stiff and uneasy, minds trapped in a haze.

The faintest vibration hit the walls. First a loud engine.. then… Ayesha Erotica? 

The agents frowned, glancing toward the window. Hitoshi had lost his hold, but it didn’t matter because they stayed seated. 

Outside, tires screeched against the curb, the tail-end of a wild drift. A car door slammed but the music stayed. 

“LISTEN UP, BITCH, I CAME TO EAT.”

The door slammed open and there was a mix of dread from the social workers and relief from the heroes when it opened to show…

A rat? 

It clicked its car keys and the music stopped. 

Hitoshi was so confused. On the porch stood a rat. Or, more precisely, a creature not quite rat, not quite dog, not quite bear. It had polished fur, neat vest, beady eyes that gleamed in the porch light.

“Good evening,” Nedzu said warmly, clasping his tiny paws together. “I hear we have a misunderstanding.”

“W-what…” one of them muttered.

“Gentlemen,” Nedzu greeted, voice bright as if he’d just arrived at a tea party, “thank you for waiting. I do hope you don’t mind my intrusion, but I’d like to cut through the usual paperwork shuffle.”

He stepped past the door and immediately hopped onto the coffee table like it was built for him. The briefcase clicked open.

Inside- files. Photos. Medical reports. Copies of complaints and case notes stamped with dates. Every thread of Hitoshi’s foster care record laid bare.

Takahashi leaned forward despite himself. “How did you-?” Me

Nedzu smiled with all his tiny teeth. “Preparedness is a professional habit. And as you can see, the boy in question has been… mishandled.” He flipped through pages with quick claws, tapping certain damning lines with a paw. “Neglect, repeated absences, emotional distress, physical harm unaccounted for- shall I continue?”

Both men looked stricken. They had been majorly outmaneuvered.

“And finally,” Nedzu said, pulling free a crisp set of papers with official stamps already in place, “you’ll find these are provisional adoption forms. Filed correctly, I assure you, and witnessed by appropriate authorities. Shouta Aizawa and Hizashi Yamada are cleared under the emergency guardianship clause.”

The room was silent, save for Hitoshi’s shaky breaths against Aizawa’s side.

The workers exchanged a look. They weren’t paid enough for this- not for briefcases full of receipts and adoption papers signed and dated before they’d even stepped in the house.

At last, Takana sighed. “We’ll take this back to our supervisors. For tonight… the boy stays. Hitoshi, you have our number. If these men do anything-”

“Excellent choice,” Nedzu chirped, snapping the briefcase shut, cutting him off. “Also, man, Non-Binary.” Nedzu pointed at Aizawa then Yamada. “We will be seeing a lot of each other, so it’s preferable you keep that in mind.”

The men left with their burden of paper, still glancing back sadly at Hitoshi like a prayer he would be okay. 

Hitoshi was still clutching Aizawa’s sleeve, his swollen eyes dragged up to the small creature perched on the table. He stared and gulped, recognition flashing in his eyes. 

“…You’re… Nedzu?”

The rat tilted his head. “Ah? Do I know you?”

Hitoshi’s voice cracked. “Veridian. Play’s chess with you sometimes. I sometimes watch over her shoulder.”

Nedzu’s beady eyes gleamed. A single nod.

“Yes. This is true.”

Aizawa and Yamada gently eased Hitoshi up, murmuring between themselves. They led him upstairs, Yamada’s hand brushing his shoulder every so often, Aizawa silent but steady just ahead. The door creaked open to a small guest room. It had plain walls, a bed made with mismatched sheets, a desk tucked under the window. It wasn’t much, but it was now his.

Yamada pushed the door wider. “Alright, this is home base, Hitoshi. Not fancy, but better than the couch, yeah?”

Something in the way he said it- Hitoshi, not “kid,” not “Shinso”- made the boy hesitate in the doorway. He swallowed, blinking hard, and muttered, “…Thanks.”

Aizawa leaned against the frame, arms folded. “Get some rest. We’ll sort the rest out tomorrow.”

Hitoshi shifted, then glanced up at him. His voice cracked, but he tried anyway. “…Okay, Shouta.”

That earned the faintest arch of an eyebrow, but Shouta didn’t correct him. Hizashi just sniffled, overly dramatic, dragging their sleeve over their eyes. “Aw man, he said it! Right in the feels.”

Hitoshi almost smiled, almost. He sat on the bed with a smile but looked up at them with a grimace. His shoulders hunched, his fists curling at his sides. “…We’ll find her, right?” His throat worked hard at this moment. “I know we’ll find her. But… will we find her alive?”

The air turned heavy.

Hizashi rubbed the back of their neck, looking anywhere but the kid. “I don’t know, kiddo. I really don’t know.”

Shouta crouched down so they were eye-level. His tone was firm, but softer than usual. “I think Veridian would want us to keep hope. To keep fighting.”

Hitoshi let out a shaky laugh. “Let’s be real- she’d want us to buy food for the feast when she comes back.”

That broke the tension just enough. Hizashi snickered, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. Shouta’s mouth tugged in the ghost of a smile.

“Good night, Hitoshi,” Shouta murmured. 

“Night, kiddo,” Hizashi added.

They left him with the door cracked open. The room felt too big, the sheets smelled like laundry soap, but for once, he wasn’t bracing for someone to yank the pillow away. His body gave up before his mind could. He was asleep the second the door clicked.

They came back to Nedzu, who had already poured himself tea from nowhere, perched calm and perfect amid the wreckage of the night.

“So,”  Shouta muttered, dropping onto the couch beside him, “what the hell do we do now?”

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Izuku shot upright in bed, chest heaving. 

The fuck? Who the fuck wakes up like that? I didn’t even have a nightmare or anything, I just.. panicked. It kinda felt like that feeling when you're about to fall asleep then you feel like you're falling. Except I already fell asleep and I’m just waking up. 

Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. He scrubbed at his face with shaky hands, trying to wipe away the sleep, but it didn’t stop the unease in his chest.

He didn’t know why.

He didn’t know what was wrong.

But something was.

The room was too quiet.

Izuku has anxiety. He has a LOT of anxiety. 

I used to have panic attacks in elementary school like, every week. Mom sent me to a therapist and they told me I had it and they gave me meds and stuff but I don’t take them anymore. If I’m waking up like THIS though, maybe I should ask mom about getting back on them. 

He turned, squinting at the clock on his nightstand. It was almost ten. 

His stomach dropped. Oh okay, nevermind. Something is actually wrong.

Viví always woke him before ten. Always. Even on Sundays, even when she was hungover on energy drinks, even when she was half-dead after some late-night studying. She never let him sleep in. 

When we were younger and lived in our first apartment complex, before it burned down, she used to wait until exactly 7:30 to shake me awake. Then we would wrestle or something until mom called us for breakfast. 

He threw off the blanket, bare feet hitting the floor, and padded across the hall. Her door was half-shut. He pushed it open with trembling fingers.

“Viví?”

Clothes were scattered across the floor from yesterday. Her jacket hung half off the desk chair.

Her bed was empty and not made. 

Don’t even start, I don’t think she’s made her bed ever in her entire life. Viví making her bed is like Kacchan being sweet or Hitoshi getting a good nights rest. It just never happens. She will take the notebooks and books off sometimes, or maybe clean her bedside table but she NEVER makes her bed. So… not totally unusual yet. 

Izuku let out a breath.

He then bolted to the kitchen. Maybe she was there, maybe she was making pancakes or fiddling with some stupid gadget. But the counters gleamed, untouched. The sink was dry. Everything was perfectly in place.

Which meant Viví wasn’t there.

Okay not that the place being nice and clean means that Viví isn’t it in. She may not be a very clean person, but she also a isn’t disgusting. Except for her room. SHE HAS LIKE FIFTEEN CUPS ON HER BEDSIDE TABLE LIKE YOU DONT NEED ALL OF THEM- making fun of Viví doesn’t make the anxiety go away. Something bad might have actually happened.

His throat tightened. He fumbled for his phone.

Bitchass Mf’r.

Viví’s contact.

It rang.

And rang.

And went to voicemail.

He called again.

And again.

And again.

Nothing.

His fingers flew over the screen, shooting texts one after another. 

wya

pookie

pookums 

viví answer me

please just answer

are you ok

The read receipt never appeared.

He swallowed hard, forced air into his lungs, and scrolled to another contact.

Hitoshi.

The line rang, some bland music playing until it too, went dead.

Izuku stared at the phone, heart beating.

Then he turned and ran to his mother’s room.

Izuku shoved her door open.

“Mom?”

The curtains were drawn, the room heavy with stale air and the faint, sour tang of wine. Inko stirred under the blanket, groaning as he shook her shoulder.

“Mom, wake up- please- Viví’s not here, I can’t find her-”

Her hand waved blindly, shooing him away. 

“Oh, honey… momma’s got a nasty hangover.” Her words slurred together. “Ask your sister…”

Izuku froze. The words hit like a brick to the chest.

“She’s not here!” His voice cracked, higher than he meant. “She’s gone!”

Inko pulled the blanket higher over her head. “Later, baby. I need to sleep. I have to work in like an hour…”

Izuku stood there, fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. His throat burned. For one terrifying second he thought he might cry, and if he started crying he’d never stop.

He stumbled backward out of the room, breath hitching, and fumbled with his phone again. His hands shook so badly he nearly dropped it. He scrolled and pressed the name.

My Hero 💛💙❤️

The line clicked.

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Toshinori had just managed to coax Viví into sitting on the rug, hands braced against her thighs as she leaned forward carefully, forcing her muscles to loosen instead of seize. The frying pan hissed on the stove, the smell of bacon filling the apartment. He’d been thinking about how absurdly normal it felt, given everything- until the phone buzzed.

The name lit up the screen. 

💚Izuku 💚

Toshinori’s stomach dropped.

“Uh,” he said, voice a little too tight, “your brother. He’s calling.”

Viví froze mid-stretch, eyes snapping open. For a split second, something unguarded passed across her face. Maybe fear, or maybe guilt. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, forcing a crooked grin.

“Well, shit.” She exhaled sharply through her nose. “Pick it up. Tell him I’m here, and that I got in a scuffle. He’ll understand, and it can explain why I’m hurt. Geniussss.”

“Viví-” Toshinori began, but she waved him off, still stretching, her mouth pulling into something between a smirk and a grimace.

“Trust me. I know how the bruzz’s mind works.”

The phone kept buzzing in his hand, relentless.

He swallowed hard, thumb hovering over accept.

The phone connected with a click, and immediately Toshinori had to hold it away from his ear.

“HEYIMSORRYBUTICANRFINDMYSISTERANDMYMOMISNTHELPINGANDSHESNOTANSWERINGANDIDONTKNOWWHATTODOHELPWHATIFSHEDIED-”

Izuku’s voice cracked halfway through, every word tumbling over the next, ragged and frantic. Toshinori could hear the tears, the raw panic scraping his throat.

“Slow down, my boy,” Toshinori said quickly, trying to steady his voice. “Your sister is safe with me. She got into a fight… this morning.”

He felt the air shift before he saw her. Viví, already pushing herself up, one hand pressed to her bandaged side, the other outstretched. She yanked the phone out of his hand with surprising force.

“Deeeeeep breaths, brochacho.” Her voice softened, but still carried that tone, like she was teasing him even now. “I’m good. I was getting some snacks and I ran into Kacchan. He was apparently in a bad mood. You know how he is.”

There was silence on the other end. Just shaky breathing. Then a small, broken, “…oh.”

“You get it now?” Viví asked, leaning against the counter, wincing but trying not to show it. “Angry man. Boom. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Izuku sniffled audibly. “Send me the location. Please. I-I need to see you.”

Viví glanced at Toshinori, the grin still stuck on her mouth but her eyes suddenly sharp.

Viví didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, I’ll send it. Don’t trip on the way over, dawg.” She hung up before Izuku could argue.

The second the line went dead, she shoved the phone back into Toshinori’s hands and limped straight to the medkit.

“Viví-” he started, half-warning, half-pleading.

“I know, I know,” she muttered, already digging. “But if he sees stitches and blood, he’ll lose his shit. Sooo-” She pulled out a tube of burn cream, twisting the cap with her teeth. The smell of aloe and chemicals hit the air.

She smeared a layer around the edge of her bandage, then wrapped a clean roll of gauze overtop in practiced, efficient motions. When she was finished, she set the tube right on the counter where it couldn’t be missed.

“There. He’ll assume it’s a burn. Panic averted.”

Toshinori rubbed his face with one massive hand, groaning low in his throat. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

Viví leaned back against the counter, pale and shaking but still smirking. “Nah. Just good at lying. Difference.”

Toshinori leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, narrowing his eyes at her. “Who else knows? I’m assuming Izuku doesn’t.”

Viví fiddled with the edge of her bandage like she was counting names on her fingers. “Our friend Hitoshi knows. I’ll introduce him to you soon, just to keep everyone in the loop. You know now…” She snapped her fingers, “Oh, Hawks knows I’m thirteen. That’s about it though.”

“You’re fourteen,” Toshinori corrected flatly.

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh. Oh yeaaa. Our birthday was last month.” She blinked a few times, then snorted. “Damn, I should probably tell him that.”

Toshinori pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nevermind, I guess you’re not that smart.”

“Bruh.” She threw the empty gauze roll at him. “Leave me alone.”

Before Toshinori could fire back, there came a frantic knock knock knock from the hallway.

Viví perked up. “That’s him.”

But when they opened their door, they didn’t see Izuku. They heard another door creak open down the hall.

Izuku stood there, cheeks blotchy, clutching his phone in both hands like a lifeline. He’d knocked on the wrong apartment. This dumbass. How do you get the wrong apartment??? 

The one who answered was Tsukauchi. 

The detective stared blearily at the boy, then squinted as Toshinori and Viví leaned halfway out of the other doorway.

“Wrong apartment, buddy,” Toshinori called, waving Izuku over.

Tsukauchi rubbed his face. “Dude. What are you doing?” 

Toshinori straightened up, instantly sheepish. “This is my successor. We have training this morning, so I invited him over to plan.” 

And I’MMMMM the liar??????????? Well it’s technically true, they do have training, which is probably why Tsukauchi’s quirk didn’t flair up.

“It’s too early for this,” Tsukauchi muttered, shutting his door without another word. 

Izuku ran straight across the hall, eyes brimming, and Viví barely braced herself before he wrapped her in a hug. Her ribs screamed, her stomach clenched, and for a second she thought she’d lose it right there on his shoulder- but she just grit her teeth and patted his back.

“Easy,” she wheezed, forcing a grin. “I’m good. Promise.” 

Izuku pulled back, searching her face, but let her drag him inside. Viví watches his eyes dart to the burn cream, and to the hand on her stomach, and he gets the gist without her saying anything. 

Brother passing away or whatever, BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. 

I need to get off TikTok. 

 

The apartment filled with their chatter, Izuku’s voice panicked and hers too steady, the two of them yapping like nothing bad had happened at all. Toshinori continued to cook, and tried to ignore the anxiety and weight of the secret he had been let in on. 

Now he knows how Izuku felt, cause all he wants to do is run next door and tell Tsukauchi. 

Unlike how Izuku telling Viví really didn’t cause harm, Toshinori telling Tsukauchi could be catastrophic for Viví. 

 

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Tsukauchi shut the door on All Might’s overeager “successor” and immediately turned back to the phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear.

“Yes, I heard you,” he muttered, pacing toward the window. “Yes, the paperwork was filed. Aizawa and Yamada aren’t just temporary guardians, they’re requesting permanence. The kid’s foster record speaks for itself-” He stopped, pressing his forehead to the glass, lowering his voice. “I know. I know the agency won’t like it. That’s why I’m calling you first, counselor. Just… keep it on your desk. Don’t move it up the chain yet.”

He hung up and instantly dialed again. A gruff voice answered on the second ring.

“Eraserhead.”

“Any word on the girl?” Tsukauchi asked. He kept his tone professional, but his gut twisted.

There was a pause. On the other end, Yamada’s muffled voice rose, raw from crying. Then Aizawa’s sigh, “No. She gave us numbers. None of them are ringing through. Hawks told us he’s doing surveillance of rooftops to see if she could be...” 

Tsukauchi pinched the bridge of his nose. “So we’re assuming the worst.”

Silence. That was confirmation enough.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll head down.”

He slipped his coat on, tucking his badge out of sight, and left the apartment without another word.

The drive wasn’t long, but his mind ran ahead of him. Veridian bleeding out on some rooftop. Eraser and Mic mourning one of their friends. It isn’t the first time she’s been injured badly, and Tsukauchi could only pray it wouldn’t be the last. 

He hoped the house he was heading to would be a better sight than grieving.

When he pushed open the door he was met with an odd sight.

Nedzu was perched comfortably in an armchair, steaming tea in hand, surrounded by stacks of files, a briefcase cracked open at his feet. Aizawa sat opposite him, dark eyes unreadable. Yamada was hunched on the armrest, foot bouncing, rubbing the back of his neck raw.

“Good morning, detective,” Nedzu said without looking up, sliding a form across the table with one clawed paw. “We’re working out how to ensure one child has a home and I’m calculating whether our friend is even still alive.”

Tsukauchi lowered himself into the couch with a quiet grunt. No one spoke for a while, just the ticking of the wall clock, and the faint shuffle of Nedzu rearranging papers like chess pieces.

Aizawa looked rough. He was looking through papers that Nedzu brought. He barely even blinked. 

Yamada looked even worse. He scrolled through online law books, just grasping at straws.

Both of them were completely guarded and trying to ignore everything 

Behind them were soft footsteps on the stairs.

Hitoshi appeared, pale, hair sticking down instead of up like he’d been brushing it. He clutched his phone in both hand’s.

“I tried calling Veridian,” he said. His voice was hoarse.

Aizawa sat forward a fraction, elbows on his knees. “We’ve been trying too, buddy. She’s…” He let the silence finish the sentence.

“I also tried…” Hitoshi’s eyes darted down to the phone, thumb caressing edge. “Uh. Someone she knows. A family member. He didn’t answer. Even though he was calling me earlier, probably asking about her.”

Yamada straightened. “Is her friend alright?”

Hitoshi hesitated, then nodded. “Uh, I think so. But he’s definitely worried about her. And if she didn’t go to him… I don’t know where else she might have gone.”

Nedzu finally looked up, ears twitching. His voice was calm, but carried a weight. “She wouldn’t have gone to her friend. I believe you are the only other person who knows her identity, Shinso. She wouldn’t risk exposure. Much more likely she tried to stitch herself up… or she sought out a hospital under her civilian name.”

Hitoshi froze. Hospital. Her mom was a nurse. Viví couldn’t even risk going to a hospital.

The adults exchanged glances.

Nedzu tilted his head. “That realization means something to you, doesn’t it?”

Hitoshi’s breathing quickened. “She wouldn’t have gone to a hospital.”

Tsukauchi leaned forward, brow furrowed. “Because they’d run her details. They’d find her in the system or whatever.”

“No, she has-” Hitoshi cut in, too fast, too revealing. He stopped short, eyes widening. His hand slapped over his mouth like he could shove the words back in.

The silence turned sharp. Aizawa’s gaze was heavy, Nedzu’s sharper still.

“Uh… I’m gonna keep trying to call her,” Hitoshi muttered, ducking his head and practically fleeing the living room, phone clutched to his chest.

The adults watched him go.

Hitoshi hadn’t even made it halfway up the stairs before his phone buzzed in his palm. He froze, then whipped around and jogged back into the living room.

He didn’t sit down. He launched himself over the back of the couch, landing squarely between Yamada and Aizawa. His hair stuck in all directions from the momentum.

“HEY MAN, HAVE YOU SEEN V… uh, have you seen your, uh…” His voice faltered. Couldn’t say her name. Couldn’t say your sister. His wide, desperate eyes just searched the adults’ faces, praying Izuku understood.

The room went still. Then Hitoshi slapped a hand over his own mouth.

“Oh thank the stars,” a boy’s voice crackled from the phone. Hitoshi sat back with exhausted relief. “Tell her I’m gonna fucking slaughter her.”

Aizawa’s brow twitched. Yamada mouthed, language, but didn’t dare interrupt.

Izuku kept rambling. “Ah, well, she left to see our mom at the hospital. But you can tell her yourself. Also, where are you?”

“Uh…” Hitoshi shifted, shoulders tightening. “I’m at a new foster home?”

There was a sharp squeal on the other end, loud enough that the adults winced.

“REALLY!!! That’s amazing, Toshi! No, not you, Toshinori, I’m talking to my friend Hitoshi. I know too many Toshi’s. Sorry. Hitoshi, I gotta go. Love you, man.”

“Love you too, dawg,” Hitoshi muttered automatically, then hung up.

For a beat, he just stared at the phone like it had personally cursed him. Then he tossed it onto the cushion and dragged both hands down his face, groaning.

“That was the deepest sigh I’ve ever heard,” Yamada said softly.

“She’s okay,” Hitoshi finally got out, sinking lower into the couch. His chest loosened as he spoke the words. “She’s… okay. She went in her civilian form to a hospital.”

Nedzu’s nose twitched, “Told you so.” 

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The hospital was wild. People were yelling for help, doctors running around, hundreds of different beeps. Viví tugged the hood of her sweatshirt lower, pressing one hand discreetly to her bandaged stomach as she stepped up to the reception desk.

“Um… I’m here to see Inko Midoriya?” Her voice came out a little too high. 

The nurse gave her a once-over, recognising her, then nodded and made a quick call. A few minutes later, Viví was ushered into a small staff office.

Her mother was already there, coat half-buttoned, hair a little mussed from the long shift. She was ushering a coworker out, one with a cane, while telling him to stop trying to cut into people. She sat down at her desk, head leaning on the table. 

 

Inko looked up and for just a fraction of a second, her eyes softened, almost too much.

Viví closed the door behind her. “I, uh… need help.”

Inko didn’t ask a single question. She just motioned to the chair. Her hands were gentle but efficient, rolling up Viví’s sweatshirt, carefully undoing the rough first aid job Toshinori had left behind. It wasn’t terrible per se. He had his own stomach injury, so he was pretty good at dealing with it.

 

Suddenly Ink ran out of the room to get some needles and thread, plus the worst thing in the world. Antiseptic. The sting made Viví grip the chair so hard her knuckles cracked, but she bit her lip and stayed still.

When it was done, Inko smoothed the gauze down, leaned in, and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead quickly, like a ritual. “Be more careful,” she whispered.

Her pager beeped, and the man with the cane was back. She sighed, already standing. “What happened?”

“I took out a piece of her brain and she went blind but her cancer is gone.” 

“….House, I am going to give you three seconds to run.” 

The man gestured to his cane, “Well that’s ableist.” 

Viví stood, sliding a paper bag across the desk before Inko could leave. “Picked this up for you on my way here.”

Inko peeked inside, and a small laugh broke out of her. “How did you…”

A bottle of wine. Shaking her head, she tucked it aside. “You shouldn’t have. But thank you.” She squeezed Viví’s shoulder, warmth slipping through the fatigue. “Say hi to Izuku for me, alright?”

“Yeah,” Viví murmured. “Of course.”

Her mother was already moving to catch up with the other doctor, talking about some patient or medical procedure. Viví pulled her hood up again, tugged her sleeves down, and slipped out of the office.

She didn’t go home. Her feet carried her in the opposite direction. 

In about 30 minutes, it took so long because her tummy hurt, she jumped through an open window and barely stuck the landing. 

“GUESS WHO’S BAAAAAAAAAACK!”

Veridian half-stumbled, half-swagged, as she dropped in. Her mask was now strapped to her face. Dried blood caked the edges, but the painted jaw plate grinned for her like nothing was wrong.

Two small children being fed gave her a strange look, and their mother dropped the spoon. 

“Uh… is this 5 Pleasant Street?” Veridian looked out the window for a number.

“N-no. This is 4 Pleasant Street.” 

“Ah… I apologize deeply.” 

“That’s alright. Have a good day sweetie.” The mom picked back up the spoon, and continued feeding her kids. 

“You too, Ma’am. Adorable kids by the way.” 

I now understand how Izuku got the wrong apartment. 

Veridian slipped back out the window and ran across their yard to the house right next to them. She shimmied the window open Hitoshi shot off the couch like a bullet before she even got both feet on the ground. 

He crashed into her before anyone could stop him. Her knees buckled, and she let out a sharp yelp, coughing into her mask. A little fleck of red made its way onto the screen. 

Make a mental note to pick up Clorox wipes. And baby wipes to wipe up Hitoshi’s tears cause he’s a CRYBABYYYY. 

“Careful, dude,” she rasped, trying to pat his back without wincing. “I’m not fully healed yet.” 

Inside, Nedzu and Tsukauchi were waiting with Aizawa and Yamada. Veridian spotted them, mask tilting in a crooked grin.

“Awwww, all my favorite people in one room!” She flopped onto the couch like she owned it. “So, I heard about a little foster care drama?”

Tsukauchi gave her a pointed look, “How did you…”

“Don’t worry about it, Tsuki!” She whipped a thick folder out of nowhere, tossing it onto the coffee table with a thunk. 

“Proof,” she declared, propping her boots up next to it. “That Hitoshi’s been with me for at least a month. His foster parents? Didn’t even try to find him. Didn’t alert anyone. Oh, and here’s him trying to reach out to them-” she flipped open the folder with a flourish, “-only to be brushed off..”

Hitoshi blinked at the pile of documents. “How did you even get that?”

She finger-gunned him without missing a beat. “Don’t worry about it, Toshi!”

Across the room, Nedzu was trying (and failing) not to snicker. Veridian slid down onto the couch beside him, slinging an arm over his tiny shoulders in a lazy side hug.

“Heya, Nezzy. You get all the boring adoption paperwork squared away?”

“Indeed,” Nedzu said, eyes glinting with sharp amusement. “Though for me, it’s not boring at all.”

“Yeah, yeah. Boring people find boring things fun. No offense.”

“Offense taken,” Nedzu replied smoothly, and they both smirked like they were in on some private joke.

The tension drained from the room. Plans were spread across the table, Veridian chattering ideas like she’d never been gone. Hitoshi curled up beside Aizawa, calmer than anyone had seen him in weeks.

And somewhere else in the city, Izuku sat with Toshinori, fussing over breakfast and training talk, oblivious to how close the world had come to fracturing.

For now, at least, things felt… lighter.

Notes:

chat who wants me to give someone lupis.

Chapter 16: Eat This!

Summary:

Izuku thinks of katsuki, while everyone else around him worrys about the upcoming entrance exams.

Notes:

No, this is not BakuDeku outright. Idk if i mentioned it, but there are a lot of relationships that you can choose to view as platonic or romantic. No, izuku is not a hoe.

 

Izuku was climbing.

The bark was rough under his palms, scratching, splintering, but he didn’t stop. Kacchan was already above him, tiny hands and feet kicking and pushing as he hauled himself higher.

“C’mon, Deku!” Kacchan yelled down, voice sharp but not cruel, not yet. “You’re so slow!”

Izuku panted, dragging himself up the next branch. His shoes slipped, twice, his knee scrapped against the trunk, but he kept going. He had to catch up.

When he finally reached Kacchan’s branch, he plopped down beside him, legs swinging, cheeks hot with the effort.

Kacchan smirked. “’Bout time.”

But Izuku didn’t stop. He grabbed the next branch. Then the next. His little arms burned, his fingers ached, but he was climbing higher.

“Deku- hey, Deku! Stop!” Kacchan’s voice cracked, younger than he remembered it ever being. “That’s too high! You’re gonna fall!”

Izuku didn’t listen.

He broke through the canopy, breath catching as sunlight poured over him. The world was wide and gold above the trees. Birds swooped past in formations. The air smelled like summer and childlike wonder.

He clung to the trunk with one hand, reaching the other out, stretching for the sun. It was so close. He could almost-

“Deku!” Kacchan screamed from below. Desperate. “Don’t climb that high, you're gonna get hurt, IZUKU!”

Izuku froze, torn. His hand trembled in the air.

And then, slowly, he climbed down.

 

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The wind was sharp against Hitoshi’s face, each breath burning his throat. His legs screamed. His chest screamed. He might have screamed.

And Izuku, damn him , was still running like it was nothing.

“C’mon, Hitoshi!” Izuku called over his shoulder, his curly hair bouncing with every step. “One more block! You’ve got this!”

Hitoshi staggered, clutching his side. “You… said that… three blocks ago.”

Izuku slowed just enough to jog alongside him. He was muttering under his breath, little half-whispers like, “You can do this, just one more step, don’t give up now.” It wasn’t even aimed at Hitoshi, he realized. 

“Why are you-” Hitoshi wheezed, “-pep-talking yourself and me?”

“Because it works!” Izuku grinned, teeth flashing, and then pumped his fists like he was playing that one boxing game at an arcade. “C’mon, one more block, and then we can head back for water.”

Hitoshi narrowed his eyes. “If I die here, Izuku, I’m haunting you. Forever. You’ll never sleep again. Every time you lay your head on a pillow I'll whisper “bitch” in your ear.”

Izuku nearly tripped because he was laughing so hard.

They turned the corner together- Izuku still bounding, Hitoshi dragging his feet like a corpse- and the building they started at came into view. Hitoshi let out a strangled noise halfway between a groan and a whimper. 

“See? You made it!” Izuku cheered.

Hitoshi flipped him off weakly. “I hate you.”

Izuku just laughed harder.

“Now you just have to walk up two flights of stares!”

“k. y. s.” 

 

         /)  /)

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 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Toshinori stood over the stove, humming softly, spatula in hand. He looked oddly at peace, tall frame bent just slightly as if he could pretend, for a moment, to be just another tired man cooking breakfast.

That illusion shattered the instant Viví popped her head around the doorway.

“Chef Toshiii!” she sing-songed, limping in and leaning against him. “What are we making? Pancakes? Omelets? Human sacrifices?”

“Eggs,” Toshinori said, voice even, like he hadn’t heard the last option. “Toast.”

Viví’s nose wrinkled. “Laaaame. Where’s the flair? The pizzazz? The culinary artistry?”

“You’re welcome to take over,” Toshinori replied dryly, sliding another egg into the pan.

Viví darted forward, snatched a slice of toast off the plate, and took a big bite. Crumbs went everywhere. “Mmmm,” she said, chewing obnoxiously. “Five stars. Michelin chef. Gordon Ramsay would cry.”

Toshinori gave her the world’s flattest look, “This is why I told you not to have an energy drink.”

Viví leaned against the counter, swinging her legs and kicking against the cabinets. “So. Break today, right? You, me, bitch ass Izuku, Hitoshi?”

Toshinori sighed. “Why have you started using that as his moniker."

“Now that you pointed it out I have to stop.”

Instead of saying anything, he slid the finished eggs onto two plates and handed one to her.

“Eat properly,” he said.

She saluted with the toast, getting crumbs in her eye. “Yes, sir!”

The front door rattled open and slammed shut again.

“I’M BACK!” Izuku yelled, breathless but still bouncing on his feet like he hadn’t just run twice the distance of a normal human. His curls were plastered to his forehead, sweat dripping down his temples, but his eyes were still glowing with energy.

“Welcome home,” Toshinori called from the kitchen, calm as ever.

Izuku kicked off his shoes and jogged inside.

Hitoshi however immediately crumped to the ground and sprawled out on the living room floor, arms thrown wide, chest heaving. He looked like a chalk outline at a crime scene.

“OH MY GOD!” Izuku dropped to his knees beside him. “Hitoshi! Are you okay? Do you need water? An ambulance?? CPR???”

Hitoshi cracked one eye open. His voice came out hoarse, ragged: “Tell my… story…”

Izuku paled. “What story?? What are you talking about??”

“Tell the world… I was cool…” Hitoshi whispered, then went limp, tongue hanging out for dramatic effect.

Izuku’s was about to smack him away. 

Hitoshi quickly skittered away, “Bro, I’m kidding.” Hitoshi wheezed a laugh, too tired to sit up.

Izuku blinked at him, then tackled him. “I’ll give you a real reason to be passing out!”

They began to wrestle, Izuku throwing pillows and Hitoshi just lunging at him. 

“HEY. Enough.” 

Both boys whipped their heads toward the doorway. Viví was perched on the counter, glaring at them.

“Viví! Why are you yelling…” Izuku shouted, scandalized.

“What?” she said around a mouthful of toast. “This isn’t our apartment. Your going to break something.”

Toshinori pinched the bridge of his nose, “I don’t mind. Nothing in here is something I can’t replace.” 

By the time Hitoshi finally dragged himself upright (with Izuku’s very dramatic assistance), Toshinori had shepherded them all toward the dining table. Plates clattered, chairs scraped, and suddenly it was far less “calm breakfast” and more “feeding time at the zoo.”

Izuku wolfed down his eggs like someone might steal them, talking all the while. “So- gulp- I was thinking, maybe we- Om nom nom- could run to the river later? I read that it helps stamina- chew chew swallow.”

“You,” Hitoshi muttered, stabbing his toast with the menace of a man betrayed, “are a monster.”

“Can someone comment on him saying verbaling chew chew swallow and om nom nom?”

Hitoshi pointed his fork at him, glaring daggers.

Izuku blinked, mid-bite. “Huh?”

“You ran an extra lap.”

“Well yeah.” Izuku shrugged. “That’s training.”

“That’s cruelty,” Hitoshi shot back. “That’s actual villain behavior. Someone call the pros.”

Izuku groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Viví grinned wide, scooping more eggs onto her plate, then immediately into her mouth. 

“You already don’t get up before ten, so I have only a few hours to go run with you,” Izuku mumbled through his palms, “and if I try to get her to run at all I’ll get stabbed or yelled at or she’s gonna give me homework.”

“EXACTLY. Problem solved-“ 

“Nothing was solved?”

“Yep! Anyways, I’m gonna go take a quick shower. Y'all are so gross it’s making ME feel gross.”

Across the table, Toshinori sighed into his mug. He’d been a Symbol of Peace, a Number One hero, the man who stared down death countless times. Yet somehow, this breakfast table was the most exhausting battlefield he’d ever seen.

 

         /)  /)

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Hitoshi leaned against the counter, half-drying a dish with a towel, while Izuku stacked utensils with meticulous precision. Toshinori busied himself at the sink, sleeves rolled up, pretending not to hover.

“So…” Izuku broke the silence first, shifting from foot to foot. “Entrance exams are in, what- two days?”

“One and a half,” Hitoshi corrected instantly, like he’d been counting down to doomsday. His voice had that flat, almost sarcastic edge. “But sure, let’s round up. That’ll make it less terrifying.”

Izuku’s grip on the cutlery tightened. “I wasn’t! I just meant, you know… it’s coming fast.”

“Fast? It’s coming like a freight train, Midoriya. And I’m gonna get flattened.” Hitoshi tossed the towel onto the counter, dragging a hand down his face. “Aizawa’s been drilling me, sure, but… it’s a practical. What if my quirk just- doesn’t do anything? I’m not flashy. I’m not-”

Izuku interrupted without meaning to, words tumbling. “But your quirk is amazing! You can shut someone down instantly! That’s- strategically- that’s-” He stopped himself, cheeks burning. “Sorry. I just… I think you’ll do great.”

Hitoshi squinted at him, lips twitching. “You sound like your sister. Which is slightly unsettling.”

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed but stubborn. “Well, she’s not wrong. And neither am I.”

Across the sink, Toshinori cleared his throat softly, a little smile hidden in the steam. “Both of you boys are overthinking. You’ll do fine. Exams test more than quirks- they test heart. And I know you both have plenty of that.”

Hitoshi groaned, dramatic. “If I hear one more adult say ‘heart,’ I’m dropping out and becoming a barber.”

Izuku blinked. “A barber?”

“Yeah. At least then, if I fail, people won’t be shocked. They’ll just have bad haircuts.”

Toshinori laughed under his breath, shaking his head. Izuku, despite himself, laughed too.

The kitchen felt lighter. But the countdown in both their heads ticked on.

Viví padded into the kitchen with damp hair and a Toshinori’s hoodie which was three sizes too big, plopping herself onto the couch with zero ceremony. She immediately stole the pillow from the armrest and hugged it like it owed her money.

“So,” Toshinori said casually, drying his hands on a towel. “We were just talking about the entrance exams.”

Izuku perked up. “Yeah, uh- how are you feeling about yours, Viví?”

Hitoshi smirked. “Yeah, Viví. Confident?”

Viví froze, eyes darting between them. Then, in slow motion, she inhaled as deep as her lungs would allow-

-and screamed directly into the pillow.

The noise was so long and so guttural that Toshinori actually stepped back like he’d been hit with a pressure wave. Hitoshi blinked, impressed. Izuku just looked alarmed.

When she finally came up for air, hair sticking out in every direction, Viví rasped, “At least you hero kids know you’re fighting something. Big scary robots, whatever. Punch. Kick. Strategy. Easy to imagine. But me?” She jabbed a finger into her chest. “Analysis track? I don’t even know if I’m supposed to fight, think, or- what if they just give me a pop quiz on villain tax codes?!”

Hitoshi snorted. “Villain tax codes? What even is that?”

“Don’t laugh at me, Hitoshi! It could happen!” She sat up, flailing. “Do you know how many things I’ve had to memorize? Court rulings, emergency protocols, tactical formations, obscure bylaws about quirk registration- and I’m on my fucking cycle! They could ask anything. And then-” She dropped dramatically onto her back, throwing the pillow over her face. “And then I’ll get seated next to some other kid with a brain-based quirk and boom! Insta-failure. Why even try?”

Izuku flailed his hands, trying to reassure her. “No! No, Viví, you’re- you’re amazing at this stuff! You’ll crush it, I swear!”

“Easy for you to say,” came her muffled voice. “You don’t have to compete with mind-readers.”

Hitoshi arched a brow. “You think someone’s quirk is going to literally be better studying?”

“Yes!” Viví shot up again, glaring at him like he’d just questioned gravity. “And I’m gonna lose to them. And then I’ll have to be an accountant.”

“An accountant?” Izuku echoed.

“Yup.”

 

“…”

“…”

 

“An accountant and a barber. All we need now is a prostitute and you’ve got the setup for a great joke.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Izuku.” 

 

Toshinori finally chuckled, shaking his head. “You worry more than both of them combined, young lady.”

Viví threw her arms wide. “Because one of us has to! Oh I need to breathe before I start actually tweaking.

         /)  /)

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 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Later at night the little group split apart. Hitoshi back to his new dad’s home, Izuku back to their apartment, and Viví still staying with Toshinori. 

Hitoshi shoved his hands deep into his hoodie pocket, muttering something about not wanting to miss curfew. “Don’t let him feed you anything too weird,” he threw over his shoulder at Viví.

“Bruh,” she groaned, lounging against Toshinori’s doorframe with a bandage still snug around her stomach. “You act like I won’t eat anything put in front of me. I’ll survive.”

Toshinori raised a brow. “I’ll have you know I make a very decent omelet.”

“Keyword decent,” Hitoshi called back, smirking faintly before disappearing around the corner.

“Pretty sure omelets are the only thing you make.” 

Izuku lingered a moment longer. “I, um… I should go home, too. Dinner with Mom. And it’s not Omelets.”

Viví gave him a lazy smile. “Go eat, Izuku. Don’t let her worry.”

“Text me when you’re gonna go to bed, yeah?” Izuku said quickly. “Just so I know you’re okay.”

“Promise.”

That was enough. He nodded, cheeks pink, and started the walk back to his apartment. His sneakers scuffed against the sidewalk in a steady rhythm. Normally, Viví would’ve been there beside him, teasing him for walking too fast, or suggesting a detour for good snacks. Without her, the silence pressed heavily.

His mind began to drift.

It drifted where it always did. The one thing- person. The one person that always echoed in his thoughts. Especially when it came to his future as a hero.

Kacchan.

He pictured the dream from the morning. The tree, Katsuki’s voice screaming at him to get down, the sun just out of reach. 

Katsuki had always been like that. Always ahead of him, and always furious when Izuku tried to climb higher. To reach for more.

Izuku’s fists tightened around the straps of his backpack. Part of him wanted to believe things could go back to the way they were when they were five or six, before everything broke. Before the shouting, before the explosions. When Katsuki was still just… Kacchan. 

But then he remembered Viví’s words from when she got burned. 

“Ran into Kacchan, bad mood, you know how he is” The knot in his stomach twisted.

What if Kacchan never stopped trying to hurt them?

Izuku shook his head hard, as though the motion could scatter the thoughts away. He forced his steps faster, toward the warmth of home and his mother’s cooking. But the image clung to him anyway; Katsuki’s glare, sharp as sparks, and the sound of him yelling, Don’t climb higher. You’ll get hurt.

But right on the heels of fear came something else. That same sharp pang he’d always felt, all the way back to childhood. 

Admiration.

Because Kacchan was amazing and brilliant and unstoppable. He was the kind of hero Izuku had wanted to be ever since they were little. Loud, bright, impossible to ignore just like All Might. Even when Kacchan knocked him down, Izuku still looked up to him. Still wanted him to see him, to think just once- “Deku isn’t useless. Deku’s strong too.”

His fists tightened around his backpack straps. 

Soon he would have One For All.

The thought made his stomach flip. An incredible power. A power, passed down from All Might himself. And it was going to be his to wield. He just had to finish cleaning that damn beach. 

And for the first time, the idea of standing beside Kacchan didn’t feel like a fantasy.

He pictured it, Kacchan blasting forward, palms sparking, and him right there too, shoulder to shoulder, running into danger as equals.

Or maybe… maybe even passing him. 

Izuku swallowed hard. What would Kacchan say if he found out? Would he hate him for it? Would he explode? Or- Izuku’s chest squeezed- would he finally, finally look at him with something other than contempt?

Would he be proud?

The thought made Izuku’s cheeks burn.

He ducked his head, scuffing his sneaker against the concrete a little harder. The street stretched ahead, glowing under the sunset. His apartment was just around the corner. But his mind was a storm, circling around the same truth over and over.

He wanted to be a hero.

He wanted to be strong.

But more than anything- he wanted Kacchan to see him.

Kacchan’s face wouldn’t leave his mind. The raw anger in his body. The sharpness in his voice. The passion in his eyes. 

Izuku wanted to be scared. Part of him was. But tangled in that fear was the same knot he’d carried since he was four years old. His mind filled with admiration, longing, something almost like love.

All Might’s words echoed in his head. “When you finish cleaning this beach, I’ll pass it to you. That’s when you’ll be ready.”

Izuku’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. Not at all. The exam was two days away, and the beach was still a wasteland. There were rusting refrigerators, crumpled cans, tires sunk deep into the sand. It wasn’t beautiful or clean.

Not done.

He pulled out his phone, thumb shaking as he typed out a message to his mom.

Sorry, Mom. I won’t be home for dinner. Love you.

 

He hesitated, but hit send. He stuffed the phone into his pocket.

When he looked up, his feet had already carried him to the beach.

The smell of salt and garbage hit him like a wave. Trash was piled high, silhouetted against the darkening sky. He dropped his bag onto the sand, rolled up his sleeves, and stared at the chaos in front of him.

Two days.

If he didn’t finish tonight, he’d fail.

Not just the exam. Not just his shot at being a hero.

He’d fail All Might.

He’d fail Viví.

He’d fail Kacchan.

Izuku clenched his fists. His lungs burned, his arms ached, but he bent down and grabbed the nearest hunk of twisted metal anyway.

He had to finish. Tonight.

 

         /)  /)

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 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The last rusted pipe clattered onto the growing scrap heap behind him, and Izuku collapsed into the sand, chest heaving, arms trembling like jelly. His lungs burned, his legs shook, and every inch of his uniform was streaked with salt, dirt, and grease. Izuku was pretty sure he had eaten sand. 

But despite that when he sat up the beach was empty.

No fridge carcasses. No mountain of cans. No ocean of tires. Just smooth, open sand stretching down to the boardwalk with shops and closed for the night food trucks. The horizon just started to show sunrise.

Izuku blinked, stunned. Then his face split into the wildest grin.

He laughed. At first shaky, then rising uncontrollably until it was a half-delirious scream. He tore across the sand, arms flailing, kicking up clouds as he ran. “I DID IT! I DID IT I DID IT I DID ITTTT!” His voice cracked halfway through, but he didn’t care.

He spun, almost tripped, then dove belly-first at his phone, yanking it out of the sand where he’d left it. His fingers flew. A brand-new group chat: “FUCK YEAAA” with Toshinori, Hitoshi, and Viví added in.

Without hesitation, he hit record.

The video was chaos. It was shaky footage of Izuku with wild hair plastered to his forehead, sweat dripping off his chin, breathless but beaming. Behind him, the beach stretched out like a new world.

“LOOK! LOOK AT THIS!! IT’S CLEAN!!” His voice cracked again, higher this time. He spun the camera to show the spotless sand, then turned it back on his face, eyes gleaming with tears and manic pride. “I DID IT!! IT’S BEAUTIFUL!!”

He screamed one more time, a raw noise somewhere between laughter and victory howl, before tripping over his own feet and sending the camera spinning. The last thing the video caught was Izuku diving face-first into the sand and shrieking into the mic:

“I FREAKIN’ DID IT!”

Send.

And then he lay there, gasping, sand stuck to his teeth, phone buzzing in his hand as he waited for replies.

Izuku’s phone buzzed.

Viví: BRT [Read 5:07 AM]

Hitoshi: dude. [Read 5:08 AM]

Viví: NO WORDS, JUST RUNNING.

Hitoshi: same.

And that was it. No explanation, no reassurance. Just the dreaded double-read receipts.

Izuku blinked at the screen, sitting up, confused. Then another buzz shook his hands.

Toshinori: Stay put, my boy. I’ll drive us over.

         /)  /)

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By the time the sun was fully over the water, a car pulled up at the far end of the boardwalk. Viví tumbled out first, hair a complete mess, still half in pajamas, clutching her phone and scanning the area for her twin. Hitoshi followed at a calmer pace, yawning so wide his jaw cracked, but still there.

And Toshinori- bony and pale in his civilian form and pj’s- took in the stretch of shining sand and the clear ocean breeze. His eyes softened. For the first time in a long time, he let himself just admire.

On the dumpster mound that stood like a defeated mountain at the edge of the lot, Izuku was king. Hair wild, arms thrown up, voice carrying across the waves:

“I DID IIIIIIT!!”

Viví screeched back, “OH MY GOD.” She snapped a photo so fast her camera clicked twice. “This is going in the scrapbook that I’ve been saying I’d make for years. Look at you, you raccoon!”

Hitoshi didn’t even try for words. He just clapped, slow and sarcastic but with a little smile tugging at his mouth.

Izuku turned redder than the sunrise.

Toshinori, hands tucked into his coat pockets, let out a low whistle. “Magnificent…” he murmured, though no one was sure whether he meant the beach or the boy.

Izuku puffed out his chest on top of the dumpster pile, still glowing with triumph, when Viví cupped her hands around her mouth.

“Question!” she yelled.

Izuku blinked down at her.

“Did you even go home last night, or have you been screaming on this beach for twelve hours straight?”

Izuku opened his mouth, but Hitoshi cut in, pointing lazily up at him. “Better question. Where the hell is your shirt.”

Sure enough, Izuku was standing there in sweatpants and shoes… but no shirt. His chest and arms were covered in streaks of grime and sand.

Izuku sputtered, flailing. “I- it got- I was sweating, and- I don’t know where it-”

“Lost to the sea, clearly,” Viví said solemnly. “The ocean demanded a sacrifice.”

Before Izuku could combust, Toshinori clapped his hands together with finality.

“Breakfast?”

Both kids froze mid-tease. Viví’s head snapped toward him, and Hitoshi immediately nodded.

“Breakfast,” they said in unison.

Izuku’s protests about his shirt died instantly.

 

         /)  /)

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The diner smelled like frying oil and coffee, the kind of place that stuck to your clothes long after you left. 

Izuku was wolfing down a stack of pancakes like he hadn’t eaten in days, and in all fairness he did skip dinner. Which Toshinori properly scolded him for. 

Hitoshi sat slouched in the booth, poking at his hash browns with a look that said he hadn’t slept in a week. 

Viví, on the other hand, had a plate of French toast drowning in whipped cream and strawberries and raspberry drizzle with powdered sugar, looking very proud of herself.

Halfway through shoving another forkful in her mouth, she gasped. Then she choked on her French toast. She took a second, everyone’s eyes on her, before finally getting words out.

“SO,” she announced, slamming her fork down dramatically. “Today is the final day of summer without anxiety over school-”

Izuku giggled. “Viví, you’ve had anxiety about school since we graduated middle school.”

“Shut. Up.” She pointed her fork at him like it was a weapon. “The point is- tomorrow is the entrance exams. Which means TODAY is the last day of freedom. And the beach is clean now…” Her eyes sparkled like she’d just solved world peace. “WE SHOULD HAVE A BEACH DAY.”

Hitoshi froze mid-bite, mouth stuffed with pancake. Izuku slowly raised a brow.

Toshinori, sipping his orange juice in the corner, made the mistake of muttering, “…Izuku did just spent the whole night cleaning that beach…”

Viví whipped around, finger raised. “EXACTLY. It’s destiny. What better way to honor Izuku’s heroic victory than to christen the beach with fun?”

Hitoshi muttered around a fry, “Translation: she just wants an excuse to make us carry an umbrella and cooler.”

Viví slammed her hand down on the table like a judge. “We’re going. End of story.”

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

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Each of the kids went to get their bathing suits. Toshinori just got a chair, umbrella, and a book. 

Izuku had a basic pair of All Might themed swim shorts, Hitoshi had black shorts and a black long sleeve shirt, and Viví had a full body wetsuit. Kidding! She had a one piece with long sleeves and legs. Which is also a full body wetsuit. Is there a difference between a normal bathing suit and a wetsuit other than one of them has long sleeves and the other doesn’t? Either way, I am NAWT getting skin cancer. The sun can suck my ass. 

Viví splashed water at Hitoshi, her laugh sharp and triumphant. He groaned dramatically, lifting both arms like he’d been mortally wounded, before diving under the water to return fire. Izuku cheered them on, all sunburnt cheeks and wild splashing, while Toshinori sat planted on a beach chair under a wide umbrella. He looked like a scarecrow in sunglasses, book placed neatly on his knee.

Everything smelled like salt, sunscreen, and fried food drifting from the boardwalk. For once, nothing hurt. It was strange, in just a day of the beach being cleaned people were already coming down. Not many, but more than there had been in years.

Viví stopped mid-laugh. The grin fell off her face, her dripping hair plastering to her jaw. She was staring past the waterline, past the bright umbrellas and squealing children.

Izuku followed her eyes.

Kacchan.

Standing on the boardwalk, hands in his pockets, chin tilted low. No one walked with him. He wasn’t storming or shouting. Just… standing watch. His mouth pressed into a line that was almost more curiosity than scowl, though annoyance flickered there too, like he wasn’t sure why he came.

Viví muttered, “Oh for fuck’s sake.” She assumed he didn’t notice them, and was just enjoying some of the final days of summer. Unfortunately the only thing Viví could think about was the lie she told Izuku. 

Izuku’s chest squeezed tight, his heart clawing against his ribs. “I’m gonna- I should- I need to- he burned you! I should-”

Viví’s wet hand snapped onto his wrist, firm enough to sting. Her eyes cut sharp into him. “No. Not here. Not like this.”

Izuku swallowed, throat dry as sandpaper. His fists trembled but all the heat left his body. He stumbled backward, then ran out of the water and ducked down behind Toshinori’s chair like a kid.

“…my boy?” Toshinori’s sunglasses slid down his nose as he peeked at the huddled shape now crouched in his shade.

Hitoshi caught the whole thing, eyes flicking from Kacchan to Izuku’s hiding spot. Then he smirked faintly, muttered, “Now’s a good time as ever to reapply sunscreen,” and plopped down next to Izuku in the sand.

Kacchan didn’t yell. Didn’t march down the boardwalk like he usually would. 

He just stood there, eyes hooded, taking in the spotless beach, the laughing families, the three kids cowering under a bony old man’s umbrella. 

His gaze returned to Viví.

His hand lifted. Two fingers twitched toward himself. A silent “Come here.”

He didn’t bother looking at the others, just her. 

Viví let out a long breath. “Guess I’m the chosen sacrifice.” She peeled her towel off her shoulders and placed it on the back of Toshinori’s chair.

“Hey, wait-” Izuku whispered, eyes wide.

She ignored him, trudging up the sand with seawater still dripping down her temple. 

The beach around her carried on, people having fun, splashing in the water and getting food. Izuku being buried by Hitoshi. But in her ears, it was dead quiet. Just the beat of her pulse. Just the way Kacchan’s eyes never left her as she came closer.

Viví stopped just short of the boardwalk, brushing her wet hair out of her face. 

“Hey… Kacchan. Whatcha doing here?”

Kacchan didn’t meet her eyes right away. His gaze flicked over the clean stretch of sand, the polished waves of the ocean. “I heard screams. Thought there was a villain fight. Turns out some bastard finally cleaned up this garbage dump.”

Viví paused for a moment. Typically he doesn’t like when anyone speaks to him, especially quirkless folk. Well, no. Especially Izuku and Viví. She took a very deep breath before responding. “Would you believe me if I told you it was Izuku?”

Kacchan’s nose wrinkled. His reply was immediate, sharp. “No it wasn’t.”

She tugged her phone out of her pocket, thumb swiping. The first video played: Izuku lugging trash bags, sweat-drenched but grinning. The next clip popped up: Izuku, filthy and shirtless, screaming like a maniac from the top of a mountain of garbage.

Viví flipped the phone around. “It was his summer training.”

Kacchan’s brows dipped low. His mouth pressed into a thin line before he muttered, “…guess that means the damn nerd is still trying for U.A.”

“All three of us are.”

That got his eyes snapping back to her. “Huh? Three?”

Viví rocked back on her heels, a smirk spreading. “Yeah. We’ve got a new sibling. Hitoshi. He’s shooting for the hero course like Izuku.”

Kacchan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not?”

“Nah.” Viví shoved her phone back into her pocket. “I’m going for the analysis program.”

For the first time, Kacchan’s lip twitched into something close to approval. “Good. Picking that over the Hero course. I’m glad you gave up on being a hero, Vandal. You would’ve gotten yourself killed.”

Her stomach gave a sharp throb under the bandages, as if the words themselves pressed into the wound. An injury from where I almost got myself killed playing hero. He really knows how to cut deep. She managed to keep her expression level. “…You’re right.” She took a breath, forcing a flicker of pride into her voice. “But Izuku won’t.”

“You quirkless people,” Lacchan started, voice rough with the usual bite. “Why is it-”

He stopped himself. The words jammed in his throat. Something flashed in his eyes. His shoulders sank a fraction, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “…How’s Izuku doing? Is he nervous?”

Viví softened just a little. “We all are. You should be too.”

Kacchan’s eyes snapped wide. “WHY?? You don’t think I’m good enough to get in???”

She flinched and waved her hands around. “Well, no! You- we should be nervous about what the exam is! Could be a total curveball you don’t see coming.”

He clicked his tongue, looking away. “Tch. Whatever. I’ll get past it.”

“I never doubted that.”

Kacchan blew out a sigh, shoulders unclenching.

“Good. I’ll see you there. I guess.”

Viví came back across the sand, wiping her hands on her pants like she’d just dealt with something sticky. Kacchan was gone. Hitoshi leaned back in his seat beside Toshinori, chin tilted toward where Kacchan had been standing.

“What’s his deal?” he asked flatly.

Viví just gave him a sideways glance, her eyes softening. “C’mon, I’ll give you the backstory.” She nodded toward the shoreline, already walking. 

Hitoshi raised a brow but followed her, leaving Toshinori and Izuku alone under the umbrella.

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Izuku was halfway buried in sand, only his knees sticking out as he scooped more over his legs. His eyes were somewhere far away.

Toshinori’s voice pulled him back. “You know… now is probably the perfect time to do this.”

Izuku blinked. “Huh?”

“I told you,” Toshinori said, his voice deepening, steady, as though rehearsing a line he’d waited years to deliver. “When you finished cleaning this beach, you would inherit my power.”

Izuku’s hands froze mid-scoop. His heart slammed in his chest. HOLY SHIT IT’S HAPPENING. OH MY AHHHH. He scrambled to his feet, grains of sand spilling from his shorts. His eyes shone like emerald’s, locked onto Toshinori.

The older man rose, dusting his trousers before straightening to his full, looming height. His muscles surged, cape of smoke rolling around him as he transformed into his All Might form. The shadow of him stretched across the sand.

“My boy,” he boomed, sunlight glinting off his teeth. “It is time for you to inherit One for All!”

From down the beach came a squeal, “ALL MIGHT?!”

Toshinori deflated instantly, coughing into his fist, shoulders shrinking until he was back to his frail frame. “Ah- sorry about that.”

Izuku didn’t waver. He stood tall, squaring his shoulders, fists clenched at his sides. His voice shook, but it carried a rare certainty.

“I’ve been preparing for this moment… for like 5 months.”

Toshinori smiled, soft with pride. Then he reached up, yanked a single blond hair from his head, and held it out between two fingers.

“EAT THIS.”

“…Uh.” Izuku stared. “…You know… I think I’m actually all set with that…”

“Oh, shush,” Toshinori said, waving the hair in front of his nose. “The power has to transfer through DNA, and I don’t feel like cutting myself or anything.”

Izuku blinked down at it. His brain whirred. Every possible way it could go wrong rushed into his head, rapid-fire. Blood, no that carries diseases. Spit, ew. Nope. Gross. Tears? I don’t wanna make him cry. Uhh. Ugh.  He searched for an alternative- but came up empty. He finally let out a weak laugh.

“Yeah, I… I can’t find a less gross way to do this.”

Grimacing, he plucked the strand from Toshinori’s hand. “Alright.”

Viví strolled back across the sand, hands on her hips like she’d just finished a TED talk. Hitoshi trailed after her, hands shoved in his pockets, his usual unimpressed face plastered on.

“…and that’s Izuku and Kacchan’s whole backstory, and the beef between them!” she finished, jabbing her finger at the air for emphasis.

Hitoshi blinked. “…what? Sorry, I zoned out. Wasn’t listening.”

Viví stopped dead, jaw dropping. “…I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

By the time they got back to the umbrella, Toshinori was lounging in his chair, book open, calmly sipping a drink like the picture of serenity.

Izuku was the opposite of serene. He was on all fours in the sand, coughing his lungs out, face red and eyes watering as he gagged violently.

Viví froze. “…The fuck happened to you???”

Hitoshi tilted his head. “Did you eat sand or something?”

Izuku jerked his head up, wheezing. He opened his mouth, but the sound that came out was another hacking cough. He slapped a fist against his chest, tried again.

“Well- cough- I did actually- hack hack- eat sand-” Another round of gagging cut him off.

Viví just stared, unimpressed, before crouching beside him and patting his back. “If you’re that hungry, let’s just go get some food, man.”

Izuku wheezed into the sand like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

Toshinori didn’t even look up from his book. “You’ll be fine in a moment.”

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The car rolled up to the curb outside Aizawa and Yamada’s place. Hitoshi leaned back in his seat, earbuds half in, watching out the window with his usual neutral face. When the engine stopped, Toshinori twisted around with his usual polite grin.

“Here we are, Shinso. Say hello to Aizawa and Yamada for me. Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Hitoshi muttered, sliding out. He lifted a hand in a lazy wave, then disappeared up the walkway.

The car door shut, and there was a comfortable silence.

Izuku was grinning like he’d just won the lottery, muffling little bursts of laughter into his hands. His shoulders shook, and he nearly pressed his forehead against the glass to hide it. 

Viví narrowed her eyes. “Did I miss something?”

Izuku sat up straight, wiping his face with both palms. “Oh, nothing really.”

Toshinori, ever the subtle one, added casually, “Just the fact that he inherited my power.”

“WHAT. WHAT. WHAT. WHAT. WHEN? HOW DID I MISS THAT. WHAT??? HOW??”

Izuku was still grinning, trying to hold it in. “…I had to eat his hair.”

Viví’s whole body lurched forward. She slapped her palm against the seat in front of her. “I don’t even wanna respond to that. I don’t. I can’t. That’s… that’s disgusting.”

Izuku only laughed harder.

Viví yanked her bag onto her lap, practically ripping it open. She fished out a notebook and pen, already flipping to a blank page. “Alright, no, nope, we’re doing this properly. How do you feel? Any changes physically? Any changes inside, mentally?” She was scribbling furiously before he could even answer. “Rate your current energy level from one to ten. How would you describe your awareness of your own quirk factor. Any tingling in the arms, legs, chest, anywhere? Vision blurring? Sense of smell enhanced?”

Izuku opened his mouth, still half-giggling. “Uh-”

“Heartbeat irregularities? Do you feel a sort of sixth sense? Do you smell smoke? Every time you move do you feel like you can put more power into your next move? How fast do you think you could run right now? You got any extra limbs? Are you giving Dua Lipa as in are you levitating? Significant changes in your muscles?”

“Viví take a deep breath.” Toshinori chuckled, reaching behind him and swatting the notebook out of her hand.

Izuku’s cheeks went red, still smiling. “…I don’t… really feel any different at all.”

Viví froze, pen hovering in the air before she reached down and picked it back up. She started scribbling again, muttering under her breath: “No initial changes. Subject possibly not attuned yet. May require stressor or situational trigger to activate. Hair ingestion method remains questionable.” She scribbled out questionable and wrote disgusting. 

Izuku groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

Toshinori just smiled faintly at the road ahead.

 

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Izuku’s breathing was uneven. His body lay tangled in his sheets, chest rising and falling too fast.

In his mind, he was back in the forest- at the highest treetop. The sun stretched above him, golden and blinding, and his hand reached toward it with everything he had.

Behind him, Kacchan was screaming. He was angry and desperate. Voice echoing like thunder. It began to rain. Izuku felt the warm summer rain trailing down his cheeks.

“DEKU! You can’t just- DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE ME BEHIND!”

Izuku didn’t turn. His palm was open, fingers trembling against the brilliance of the sun. For once, he wasn’t listening. For once, he didn’t care. He didn’t care about the rain, he didn’t care about Kacchan’s yells.

The warmth hit him like fire in his veins. It burned but it was good. It felt right.

And deep in the real world, his skin began to glow.

         /)  /)

      ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡

 ┏━/づ  づ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

It was relatively early in the morning but Viví couldn’t sleep. Not with the exams being TODAY. Well, today in two minutes. It’s 11:58 pm, so technically tomorrow but we’ll call it today because semantics make me wanna blow my brains out. 

As soon as she crossed past Izuku’s door, something caught her eye- light seeping out from beneath it, white-green, pulsing.

She yawned and gently knocked on the door. “…Zuku?”

There was no answer. Just that strange hum, like the air itself was vibrating. Maybe he left his iPad on, but she ditched them when she heard a sob.

She burst into his room and gaped at the sight.

Inside, Izuku was glowing. His hands clenched the blanket, sweat dripping, but the light bled from his skin as though his body couldn’t contain it. His freckles glimmered like tiny stars. 

Viví’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck-”

Izuku’s lips moved, barely a whisper. “Kacchan…”

The glow surged, shaking the bedframe. Viví stumbled forward, grabbing his shoulders.

“IZUKU! Hey! Hey- wake up!”

His eyes snapped open- blazing with green fire.

The green blaze in Izuku’s eyes sharpened- and suddenly his whole body jerked. Power lashed outward like a shockwave. 

Viví didn’t even have time to brace. One second she was gripping his shoulders, the next she was airborne and being slammed against the far wall with a crash that rattled picture frames.

Her head spun and she almost threw up. The breath was knocked right out of her chest.

“VIVÍ!!” Izuku’s voice cracked, almost a scream. He shot upright in bed, hands shaking, hair wild with static. “I-I didn’t mean- oh no, oh no no no no, I didn’t mean it, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

His words tumbled out too fast, half-choked with terror. He scrambled off the mattress, stumbling toward her on unsteady legs, like the glow had hollowed him out.

Viví blinked, trying to get her vision to stop spinning. “…I’m… I’m good,” she croaked, even though her shoulder felt like it had been cracked out of place.

But Izuku didn’t hear her. He was on his knees in front of her, babbling apologies, clutching at his hair as if he could tear the guilt out of himself. “I hurt you, I flung you across the room and hit your head you need your head for your test oh no if you can’t take the test because you have a concussion it’s all my fault I need to-”

Her dazed gaze softened just a fraction, watching the lightning patterns on his skin move with each of his movements. 

“…Zuku,” she rasped, reaching up to tug his sleeve weakly. “Shut up. I said I’m fine.”

His glowing hands hovered, trembling inches from her like he was afraid to touch again.

The bedroom door slammed open again, and Inko Midoriya nearly tripped over the threshold.

Her eyes went wide at the glow radiating off Izuku, at the plaster cracked inward where Viví had hit the wall.

“Izuku…” her voice shook between fear and disbelief. “What is happening?”

Izuku’s light flared brighter. His words tumbled out in a rush, desperate and unconvincing:

“I-I think… a quirk manifested? Maybe? Just now?”

Viví’s voice croaked from the floor, still catching her breath. “I-it makes sense? Exams are today. Huge stressor. Probably triggered some… late quirk manifestation is relatively common nowadays-”

“Shut up.” Inko’s tone cracked sharper than either of them expected. She pressed trembling fingers against her temples. “Just- enough. It’s too early for this. I… I don’t know. Just…” She swallowed hard, eyes darting between the dent in the wall and her son’s glowing skin. “Go back to bed.”

Silence pressed in after she left, shutting the door quickly as if to block out what she’d seen.

Izuku and Viví stared at each other in the dim light. His glow had started to fade, flickering like a dying bulb, but his hands still shook. 

“…We’re not sleeping again,” Viví muttered, dragging herself upright.

“Yeah,” Izuku whispered hoarsely, running both hands over his face. “No way.”

So they dressed in silence, nerves taut, avoiding each other’s eyes as they got ready for the entrance exams that were suddenly heavier than either of them imagined. 

They did actually end up heading back to sleep. The two of them passed out on the couch, Viví laying on top of him and Izuku dreaming once again about Kacchan. 

 

Notes:

My school year starts soon, so im going to only be posting maybe once a week and if your lucky twice. I like posting one after another but i fear i cannot. Hope you liked the chapter!

Chapter 17: Quizzes

Summary:

EXAM TIMEEEEE

Notes:

There will be shorter chapters, and maybe once a week postings because of school starting back up!

The sidewalk toward U.A. stretches longer than it should. 

Izuku is halfway through a sentence when he starts a new one. 

“I’ve calculated, statistically, my chances of passing are somewhere around sixy-seven percent, but that’s not accounting for the zero-point robot which, according to older exam formats, if the leak is legit, makes the whole math shift and then, then if I don’t get enough points in combat-”

“Breathe, robot,” Viví mutters.

He doesn’t.

Hitoshi walks on Izuku’s other side, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket. “Do you ever stop talking?”

Izuku flushes. “I-I’m just- thinking aloud-”

“Yeah. Loudly. Also, do you ever finish your sentences?” Hitoshi’s mouth quirks, just barely. 

Viví glances sideways. Izuku’s jacket is pulled tight like he’s trying to vanish into the fabric. He’s chewing the inside of his cheek and holding his notebook like a Bible mid-sermon. When izuku gets nervous he rambles. He picked it up from me, except over the years ive keep my rambling inside my head. His has gotten louder outside his mouth. 

Hitoshi seems relatively calm, but he isn’t speaking as much. That sentence was the longest one he said to them all morning. I figured out thats how he shows his nervousness. Silence. I would try to engage in a conversation but typically that makes him worse. 

Viví doesn’t say she’s nervous. She doesn’t have to. Her fingers haven’t stopped moving in minutes- tapping her palm, then her wrist, then her thumb to each finger like she’s checking a silent count.

That kid with the long brown hair has a sleep quirk. That girl up ahead is crackling. Lightning-type. Quirk instability risk: high. That one’s already looking at me weird. That guy has goggles- either a visual enhancement or just terrible fashion-

“-and I’ve been training with All Might for months but that doesn’t mean I’ll perform well and what if-”

“Bro,” Viví says gently, “you’re gonna crush it.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do know that,” she grins. “Because If you don’t I’ll sue.”

Izuku side-eyes her. “Actually shut up right now you are no help.”

That gets him to stop yapping.

Which is good.

She wants to keep him laughing. Say something dumb. 

So she leans in and stage-whispers, “Hey. If you win the whole thing, I think they legally have to give you the school.”

Izuku looks really confused. “That’s not how-”

“-Or at least name a hallway after you. Or a urinal.”

Hitoshi hums. “The urinal sounds fitting.”

“Thank you, Hitoshi,” Viví says with a nod.

Izuku groans. Suddenly he feels a violent urge towards his sister. 

He bumps her with his shoulder, shoving her off to the side. She stumbled for a moment, before smiling at him. She steps to him and shoulder checks him to the side. He stumbles, then trips, then falls. Right into a very broad, very confused guy with glasses.

“Oh my god,” Viví gasps just as a second hand appears and catches them both.

Uraraka blinks between the pile of limbs. “Whoa! You two okay?” 

Izuku is redder than any natural human has the right to be. The first guy is floating above the ground. And Izuku, this dumbass, is basically on top of the poor guy, arms wrapped around his waist, “I-!-I’m-! I’m fine! I tripped! I’m-!”

Viví is wheezing.

“You fell into a handsome man’s arms and then a cute girl saved you. Oh my god. Can I call you a hoe now?”

“I am not-”

“Awe you think I’m cute?” The girl who made the float adds. 

Viví blushed a little, and Hitoshi chimed in to save her.

“If he’s a hoe does that make you an incel?” Hitoshi deadpans. 

“Fuck you man,” Viví answers immediately. “If I’m an incel you’re…”

“Go on.” 

“…”

“Fuck you.”

The boy with the glasses ( who Izuku was still kinda clinging to) steps back with precision, bowing and holding his hand out. 

“I apologize for not stabilizing you more swiftly! I’m Tenya Iida, from Somei Private Academy.” OH MY GOD, THIS IS  INGENIUMS LITTLE BROTHER. I LOVE THAT GUY!! We had lunch one time and he tried to arrest me. He’s very sweet, hopefully his brother is like him. 

“Uh… I’m Izuku Midoriya from… Aldera public school?” Izuku shyly shakes his hand.

The brown haired girl just giggles at the scene, waves, and jogs off. 

They stare after her, and Iida leaves as well. They rush inside for the exam, like the three others should be. Izuku is defending himself from Hitoshi who is pointing out his blush, and Viví is thinking about how similar Iida and… and Iida look. Iida and Iida. Iida and Ingenium look? Iida and Tensei? Tensei and… what was it? Tonga? Tonga and Tensei look very alike. Who would name their kid Tonga? There’s no way that’s correct. Unless his parents hate him. My brain is too filled with quirks and hero shit to be remembering names. I’m actually cooked-

There were footsteps behind them. Shoes smacking on the concret. Hitoshi didn’t bother to turn around, but the twins did. It was a familiar sound that made both of their stomachs drop.

Kacchan.

Viví’s shoulders tense.

Izuku stands straighter.

Hitoshi just squints, recognizing him from the beach.

They expect a growl. A snarl. A “ what the hell are you doing here ?”

But he just walks past without a glance or a word.

He looks tired. Bone deep exhaustion. 

He looks like someone who survived something he can’t explain.

Viví knows about his feelings, but it still confuses her. He disappears into the crowd.

Viví says nothing.

Izuku stares after him.

“…I thought he’d scream at us,” he says quietly.

Viví nods once. “Me too.”

Hitoshi finally asks, low: “…What’s his deal again?”

Viví takes a deep breathe, “I ALREADY FUCKING TOLD YOU AT THE BEACH BUT YOU WERENT LISTENING YOU DUMB CUNT.”

“…that’s my bad.”

“YEA THAT'S YOUR BAD. Anyways.”

 

 

“Heroics applicants to the main hall!” a voice calls out over the loudspeakers.

“Support applicants, head left! Auditorium Two!” 

“General study’s exams will be conducted after hero and support exams.” 

 

Izuku looks at Viví.

Viví shrugs like this is just any other day of their lives and not the literal turning point of their futures.

“Don’t explode,” she says.

“You too,” he whispers.

They split.

 

          .         ⊹ ₊

             __  ♡

        ⊂⊂  • )  

           /     | 

 ┏━ ⊂_﹏u ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Viví watches Hitoshi and Izuku leave shoulder to shoulder. I thought they were about to start holding hands or something. 

The heroics stream heads straight- Izuku lost in a crowd of flashy quirks and flying egos. Viví watches him vanish around the corner. She grips her backpack and veers left.

Support Course kids are fewer in number, and weirder in energy.

Some already have gear strapped to them. Others carry massive crates. One girl has a hoverboard. Someone in the back is wheeling an entire metal crate labeled DO NOT OPEN.

Viví takes a breath.

This is fine.

“HEY NEW FRIEND,” someone says at 300% volume, “DO YOU THINK IT’S LEGALLY POSSIBLE TO ATTACH A THRUSTER TO YOUR SPINE?”

Viví flinches so hard she falls into a wall. The girl immediately steps up to her, nose almost touching Viví. 

The girl is all goggles and grease, hands talking even faster than her mouth.

Viví blinks. “Um. Maybe?”

“WE SHOULD TRY IT. OR NOT. MAYBE TOO MUCH SPINAL COMPRESSION. WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”

“Viví.”

“AWESOME. I’M MEI. MEI HATSUNE. I BUILD THINGS THAT SHOULDN’T WORK BUT SOMETIMES DO AND THAT MAKES THEM AWESOME.”

Viví shudders at the volume, “That’s.. that’s great man.”

The auditorium doors open. A mechanical voice tells them to find a seat.

Viví picks the furthest seat in the third row. Mei sits next to her immediately without asking.

“I MADE TWELVE BABIES FOR THIS EXAM,” Mei stage whispers, people stare. “I NAME THEM ALL. THIS ONE’S BABY EIGHT.”

She slaps a gauntlet twice her arm’s width onto her desk.

It whirs ominously.

Viví nods slowly.

“Nice.”

“WHAT’D YOU BRING?”

“Just my brain.”

Mei pauses then snorts.

Viví doesn’t smile, but she allows herself a quiet breath of victory.

PowerLoader enters stage right, brushing sawdust off his jacket. He’s one of the heroes I don’t get to interact with often because he is always at UA. Even during the summer. His mask is clipped to his belt and he’s already muttering before the mic’s even on. 

“Alright-Support applicants, welcome to the annual U.A. Entrance Exam. You won’t be fighting robots for points. You’ll be doing what we do best- solving problems.”

He taps a button.

The screen behind him shifts to a layout of cubicles.

“You each have a station-tools, materials, a workbench, and five cameras. You’ve got exactly two hours to show us what you can build, repurpose, or improve. Impress us. Doesn’t have to be flashy. Just have to be smart. Clear?”

Nods.

Mei salutes.

Viví is already halfway out of her chair when PowerLoader calls out.

“Viví Midoriya?”

She heads over to him, a confused look on her face.

“Uh. Here?”

He scans his clipboard. Then looks up at her, squinting. “You’re not on the Support list.”

“Correct,” she says, stepping forward. “I’m Analysis.”

PowerLoader blinks very slowly.

“Analysis?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, that’s still open?”

Viví shrugs. “It was on the site. I clicked it.”

The silence in the room shifts.

PowerLoader rubs his temples. “No one’s taken that class in like.. ever.”

“Well,” Viví mutters, “guess I’m annoying.”

He sighs once, loudly. Then points toward the side exit. “Come on. I’m gonna venture to guess the principal’s handling your test.”

She pauses. “Like, the principal? Of the school?”

“Yea. That’s what I said. Good luck.”

 

          .         ⊹ ₊

             __  ♡

        ⊂⊂  • )  

           /     | 

 ┏━ ⊂_﹏u ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

PowerLoader doesn’t walk so much as shuffle stomp.

Viví follows three steps behind, her boots squeaking against the tile. The hallway smells like fresh paint and nerves.

“Analysis…” he mutters. “Can’t believe the damn thing still exists. What kind of kid even applies for that in this day and age?”

Viví shrugs, hands in her pockets. “Kids with no muscle mass that don’t know how to throw a punch.”

He raises an eyebrow. “That you?”

“Maybe.”

He doesn’t laugh, but his pace slows just a little. A silent fair enough.

They reach a side elevator-one with a keycard scanner instead of a button. PowerLoader taps his ID, and the doors glide open.

Inside, there are no floor numbers. Just a single labeled panel saying OBSERVATION FLOOR.

“Oh,” Viví says. “So I am being dissected.”

“Nope,” PowerLoader replies. “That’s below us.”

“Lovely.”

The elevator hums upward, smooth and a little too quiet.

When it opens, they step into a short, high-security hallway. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead. The walls are too clean. Too polished. This is where the staff go to watch.

Up ahead was another a thick metal door with a scanning panel. Above it, a sign that says U.A. STAFF OBSERVATION DECK  RESTRICTED.

PowerLoader steps forward and casually swipes his card.

It beeps then there is a red light.

Viví tilts her head.

“That a bad beep?”

He tries again, swiping slower.

Beep. Red light. Door is still shut.

“Definitely a bad beep.”

PowerLoader frowns. “That’s weird.”

Viví crosses her arms. “Define ‘weird.’”

“Define ‘locked out of a room I’m usually allowed into.’”

He flips the card around and taps the scanner instead of swiping.

Still red light, still annoying beep.

The lights in the hallway flicker once then settle.

Viví steps back just one pace.

“Maybe it’s broken?” She says.

“Principal’s probably doing something sensitive,” PowerLoader mutters, staring at the lock. “He’s got override protocols. Weird that he didn’t tell me to hold off on bringing you.”

Viví squints at the door.

From behind it, there’s nothing. No whisper’s or footstep’s.

Just silence.

“…Maybe I’m being evaluated on how long I can stand in a hallway before I throw hands with a metal door.”

PowerLoader sighs and takes a step back. “Could be worse.”

“Could be a pop quiz.” Viví took another step back, just as PowerLoader swiped his card.

 

Click.

Viví’s head snaps toward the door.

The light that was once red turns green.

She steps back up to him but the door doesn’t open and the light turns back to red.

PowerLoader raises a brow.

Viví narrows her eyes.

Behind the glass slit of the door, something moves.

Viví leans forward, eye level with the seam of the metal door.

It still hasn’t opened.

The red light that flashed moments ago has faded, but the silence remains. 

Then she spots something.

A faint square of tape residue, barely visible unless you’re looking. It’s wrapped around a section of floor just in front of the door. And just above it, nestled into the ceiling corner, is a pinhole camera.

Oh.

Oh, that’s cute.

She glances sideways at PowerLoader. “Try your card again.”

He shrugs and steps forward, swiping.

Beep.

Green light.

The door slides open.

PowerLoader moves to step in and Viví follows, just a foot behind-and the second her toe brushes the inside of the tape square-

SLAM.

The door seals shut with a clunk.

PowerLoader jumps backward like he’s been hit with a taser. “What the hell?!”

Viví blinks then slowly steps backward.

The camera clicks once. The door opens again.

PowerLoader stares at it, stunned.

Viví clasps her hands behind her back. “I believe this is the first part of my test.”

“What?”

She says nothing but turns on her heel and walks away. 

“Wait-hey! Where are you-?”

Too late.

She’s gone.

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        ⊂⊂  • )  

           /     | 

 ┏━ ⊂_﹏u ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The room is dimly lit and built more like a theater than a classroom. Monitors line the walls, some on some off. Voices carry in from the other room, heroes and teachers getting settled to watch the tests. Sitting in front of the door to the room is principal Nedzu.

He sips a cup of tea as beeps ring out from behind the door. It opens once, then twice, then a third time and PowerLoader shuffles in.

“We’ve got… kind of a situation,” he says.

“Oh?” Nedzu asks.

“That kid. Viví Midoriya. She triggered the lock somehow. Wouldn’t come in. Said it was part of the test.”

Nedzu hums.

“Is she incorrect?”

PowerLoader blinks, majorly confused. “I… guess not.”

Nedzu raises one paw, before standing up and walking away from the desk.

Suddenly a ceiling tile explodes.

Viví falls through it-arms tucked, eyes narrowed- falling onto the chair where Nedzu was just sitting. She stood with the poise of someone who’s definitely broken into buildings before.

PowerLoader yelps and nearly drops his clipboard.

Viví looks up, breathless.

“Hi.”

Nedzu grins.

“Ah! You did wonderful on the first part of your exam. I’m very glad you recognized it immediately, now then, for the difficult part.”

Notes:

I litterally said this last chapter, but there are a lot of relationships that could be seen as romantic or platonic.
With Izuku there are a LOT of those. So far there is Bakudeku, Shindeku, DekuIidachaco, and trust there will be more to come. But once again, platonic or romanic whatever you would like.

Chapter 18: Genius

Summary:

Genius VS genius

Notes:

me when Sicilian Defense.

The observation deck is humming with quiet conversation and passive judgment. 

Large monitors stretch across the walls-each broadcasting live footage from one of the battle zones. A couple have already started, and Present Mic was announcing to another area that their test would be starting. Students were already charging in, hundreds of them on every screen.

Most of the teachers are sitting at a long conference-style table, murmuring about scores and slip-ups. Present Mic’s laugh echoes too loud. Snipe is chewing gum. Cementoss has a pencil behind each ear. They keep their eyes on the students but they aren’t too focused, knowing they would be reviewing the footage over and over again in the coming weeks.

Suddenly there was a bang in the room next to them.

Every head turns.

PowerLoader enters first, rubbing the back of his neck. “That noise? Ceiling. A kid came through the ceiling.”

Nedzu follows, tail flicking.

Viví enters last.

Quiet, bits of plaster in her hair and her shoulders hunched.

Aizawa raises a brow.

Midnight leans forward, curious.

Toshinori resists smiling and waving at her. He knows that she probably wants to keep their relationship a secret for now, at least until she gets into UA. Instead he focuses back on the screen that held Izuku.

“Analysis student,” PowerLoader mutters as he waves toward her. “Only one this year.”

“Only one in six years,” Nedzu corrects, pleased.

Nedzu and Viví break off from the group, walking toward a smaller raised platform to the side of the room-slightly elevated, just enough to feel separate.

A chair waits for Nedzu. A second one has clearly been dragged into place last-minute.

Viví sits without being told.

Nedzu offers her a notebook but she politely rejects and pulls out her own. It’s an OCD thing. 

“Battlefield B-14,” he says, gesturing to the monitor in front of them. “Thirty-two students. Your task is to record and identify every quirk you see, if you wish you may add observations about effectiveness, limitations, and tactical application.”

Viví doesn’t nod, she just opens the notebook and starts writing. She writes very fast.

Her eyes move like a camera. Her brain moves faster. She thanks the rat god ( in my head) that the topic is quirk analysis. The one thing she can confidently say she isn’t terrible at. 

There’s a kid launching bursts of wind- probably air pressure manipulation. Another using beams of glowing light from his stomach. Maybe energy compression? The girl vaulting off walls without touching them has some sort of kinetic tether.

Nedzu sips his tea.

Being this close to him is worrying. She’s seen him with her mask on of course. Never with it off. Maybe he would recognize her. He doesn’t look at her like she is familiar. 

Her eyes dart to Aizawa and Yamada across the room. They are focused on the screens as well. Both watching the same one with a grimace. Aizawa has to tear his eyes away from the screen.

Viví prayed they weren’t watching Hitoshi. 

Toshinori threw her a thumbs up and she smiled at him before heading back to writing. She writes half a page. A full page then two.

 

“Pawn E4,” Nedzu chirps.

Her pencil freezes mid-word. Just for a second before it moves again even faster than before. Of course. Of course he’s pulling chess into this. Wait. Chess is our thing. Does he know I’m Veridian? Would this tell him I’m Veridian? Maybe he will recognize my playing style, so I should go for something different! Yea, yea yea, instead of the normal English opening I’ll go for the Sicilian defense. Basic yet recognizable and shows a person has done some research into chess. 

“Pawn C5,” she murmurs, barely audible.

Her script changes slightly-quicker, more angular. It’s all still notes. But now there’s a second track. A second game being played alongside her train of analysis.

She doesn’t look at him. This would be difficult. She has to continue to analyze thirty something quirks while also playing chess. She can’t do her normal moves, but she also can’t throw the game cause she wants to get into UA. God damnit. He knows it’s me doesn’t he. Setting me up. Damn you, Nedzu.

He doesn’t look at her.

She flips the page.

“Knight F3.”

He clicks his claws against the table once, content.

“Pawn D6.”

Another student is flying themselves across rubble with their tongue. Quirk: frog.  

She writes it down.

She also subconsciously writes: Queen side castling likely after rook development.

 

Move by move, page by page, they continue. Two prodigies playing high-speed chess inside a battle simulation while surrounded by pro heroes who have no idea. 

Viví doesn’t smile but there’s fire in her eyes now. Ah fuck it. I’d rather try to win if he already knows. But what if he doesn’t? The only thing he has to technically go on is I’m smart. Maybe he’ll think I have an analysis quirk. Wait no, maybe he still thinks Veridian has an analysis quirk, so he’ll think I’m quirkless therefore I can’t be Veridian. 

Nedzu sips his tea again.

Perfect .

 

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        ⊂⊂  • )  

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 ┏━ ⊂_﹏u ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The battlefields are down to the final skirmishes. The smoke is clearing and dust is settling. One student flips a two-point robot over the exam walls.

Viví exhales through her nose.

Her notebook- now on page fifteen- is filled corner to corner. Symbols, shorthand, diagrams. Doodles of weird goggles. Some annotations just say things like- 

Too confident. Could be baited.

Low reaction speed. Might be scared of heights.

Cute jeans. (Your cute jeans)

Chess moves still weave through the pages. Hidden in the margins of the notebook and her mind. Then Nedzu hums. 

“Oh! Miss Midoriya, before we wrap up, I believe it’s time for a choice.”

She doesn’t stop writing. 

“Choice?”

“Yes. You can either write down and identify the quirks from every other test site or you can beat me in our game.”

She freezes and looks up.

“…You’re serious.”

“Deadly.”

Viví stares at him for a few seconds then bolts from her chair.

Present Mic yelps as she nearly crashes into his knee. Toshinori’s eyes go wide as he starts running around while writing in her notebook. 

She skids across the observation deck, notebook in hand, scanning monitors. She scribbles fast without hesitation. Half the time she doesn’t even sit-just hovers by a screen, watches for twenty seconds, and moves on.

Energy absorption.

Purple sticky balls.

Body liquefaction, ew. 

Tail combat. That kid’s really good with his tail. Kinda disturbing.

Explosions. Kacchan?

 

She doesn’t linger and keeps going.

But it’s too much. Too many screens. Dozens of students. Not enough time. She takes a minute to looks at all the screens, saving them to her memory. 

She snaps her head back to Nedzu’s table, then rushes back, panting slightly.

Some of the teachers are no longer watching the exams.

They’re watching her.

Nedzu is calm as ever, paws folded under his chin.

Viví slams into her chair, doesn’t sit. Just leans over the table.

“Knight to D2,” she snaps. “Pawn capture.”

“Queen D2, check.”

“Castle to F4.”

Nedzu clicks his claws. “Queen to B6.”

Viví cackles. “Wrong! I put my rook on D1 five moves ago, you can’t move your queen again off the D line without putting yourself in check.”

“Oh dear,” he hums.

She sweeps another bishop, loses a rook, then captures a pawn with her king. 

She is basically yelling, and completely locked into the game, before flinching at a super loud noise behind her.

The final buzzer sounds. Hero and support exams are over.

Across the deck, Present Mic sighs and stretches back in his chair.

“Aww man!! I was rooting for you, girl!”

Viví doesn’t flinch.

She just turns, deadpan. “What do you mean?”

He blinks. “Didn’t beat him, right? Or am I tweaking, you win chess with a checkmate?”

She lifts the second notebook from her chair.

The one she’d been quietly writing in the book the whole time.

Viví tosses the notebook to nedzu who flicks through it reading the whole thing, “I finished, sir.” 

Nedzu sets the notebook down. He had read through all of it in just a few seconds and it was magnificent. Well, except the final page but he would let that go. “ Purple sticky balls” wasn’t the best way to describe the quirk but it did technically fit. 

Midnight mutters, “She had both going?”

Viví leans forward, teeth bared in a grin.

“Knight to G5. Checkmate.”

Nedzu pauses and smiles.

“Well. Technically, it’s only a check- I could block with my Queen.”

Viví raises an eyebrow.

He sets down his cup and nods.

“But I forfeit.”

Nedzu clasps his tiny paws together, beaming like a child on Christmas morning.

“Miss Midoriya,” he chirps, hopping down from his chair and extending one paw toward her, “welcome to U.A.’s- and my personal- Analysis Program.”

Viví blinks, stunned. Holy shit. Holy shit. I did it. I FUCKING DID IT. 

“You are now my personal student!”

Everything in her brain slams to a stop.

Her mouth opens-

Suddenly the floor shudders and she falls back onto her chair. 

A vibration rumbles through the building, low and heavy, like something very large just hit the ground.

Heads turn.

One of the screens flickers.

It shows Battlefield B-14.

A student in green is falling from the sky, limp and spiraling.

Viví goes rigid.

Two broken arms is what everyone else is focused on. The familiar mop of curls calls to Viví. 

“Izuku!” she screams.

Her voice echoes through the deck like a siren.

Just before he hits the ground- he stops.

He is floating. That girl from outside the school saved him.

He lands and is still alive.

Viví exhales like she’s been stabbed.

Her mind is blank, the biggest victory in her entire life is overshadowed with fear for her brother. She whips toward Nedzu.

“Where are the injured kids brought?”

Nedzu doesn’t miss a beat. “Recovery Girl’s ward. West wing.”

She’s already moving and sprinting through the exit.

Teachers call after her, but she doesn’t look back.

Not when her brother’s in pain.

Not when it’s him.

Notes:

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHDOUWEAHFOQEJNGLKMALSFKDPIOQEJPTG ALSKMFLKJNAEPOGIFJMNA KPOIG E _(QTPIP PT TPUT PUITE )I{T#PTQ PJ# PJI PJ#TQ JI TJI YPQ#IJGY:UIQO#UTOUHW TJN yes

Chapter 19: Pass or Fail? Fail or Pass? Pass or Pass? Fail or Fail? Or or Or?

Summary:

OOoooOOooOOOOoOo will they pass or will they fail??? will we even find out this chapter or am i gonna not tell you OOooooOOooooOoOoO

Notes:

school has been draining my life force, and im trying not to let it affect my writing, but next chapter hath been affected and i need to fix it. Or veridian ends up stabbed again. and i just did that. so. im changing it, dw, but i really wanna stab her again lowkey

Hitoshi picked the very last row. Distance was better. From here, he could watch all the loud, flashy applicants without being swallowed by them. Izuku however, was drawn to sit with that loud blond. Viví told me the story between them. I got bits and pieces, like quirks separating them and just general drifting apart.

Hitoshi hoped everyone would be more inclined to sit at the very front, but tragically the seat beside him dropped, creaking under the weight of someone who radiated energy like static electricity.

“Yo!” The guy’s grin nearly split his face in half. He had yellow hair spiked like lightning bolts and the aura of a man who’d downed three energy drinks on the way here. “You nervous? I’m nervous. Name’s Denki Kaminari, what’s yours?”

Hitoshi blinked at him. “…Shinsou.”

Kaminari nodded like that was the greatest name he’d ever heard.

“Cool, cool. Hey, maybe we’ll end up in the same class!”

God, he’s like Yamada, Hitoshi thought, sinking further into his seat. Same boundless chatter. Same buzz of volume.

The doors at the front slammed open.

“YEEEEAAAAHHH!”

Speak of the devil. 

The voice punched through the auditorium like a shockwave. Several kids flinched. One kid actually ducked.

For a beat, the room was dead silent.

“YEAH!!” Izuku Midoriya, three rows up, fists clenched, voice cracking with sheer nervous energy.

Hitoshi sighed. Raised one hand half-heartedly. “Yeah.”

Mic’s eyes immediately found the two of them. He pointed like they’d just won a prize.

“THAT’S THE SPIRIT! KEEP THAT ENERGY UP, LISTENERS!”

Kaminari nearly leapt out of his chair. “That’s Present Mic! THE Present Mic! Oh my god, he’s- he’s right here!”

Hitoshi slouched deeper, tugging his hood forward just enough to shadow his eyes. The hype washed over him like a storm he had no intention of standing in. 

Mic threw up a holographic projection of city blocks and mechanical silhouettes.

“ALRIGHT, HERO HOPEFULS! HERE’S THE DEAL- MULTIPLE ZONES, MULTIPLE ROBOTS, MULTIPLE POINTS. YOU TAKE ‘EM DOWN, YOU RACK ‘EM UP! YA FEEL ME?!”

A hush fell on the crowd. 

“C’MON, YA FEEL ME?!”

“YES SIR!” Izuku barked, too sharp, too fast.

“…yeah,” Hitoshi muttered again.

Kaminari, vibrating beside him, threw both hands up. “HELL YEAH!!”

Hitoshi leaned an elbow on the desk, staring at the blueprints on the screen. All the hype meant nothing. The exam was simple: outscore the competition, stay alive doing it.

Denki Kaminari hadn’t stopped moving since he sat down. His knees bounced. His hands twisted together. Now he was rocking back and forth in his chair like a malfunctioning metronome.

“Duuuude,” he whispered loudly, grinning like this was all a joke. “I’m so nervy!! Like- what if the robots actually try to kill us? That would be so not rizztacular!!!”

Hitoshi glanced at him, blank. Then looked straight back at the glowing projection at the front.

No. Absolutely not . You will not associate with this man. Who in the actual FUCK uses rizztacular as a word. He needs to go. 

Kaminari didn’t seem to notice or care. He just kept fidgeting, like his body was trying to escape itself.

Hitoshi stayed quiet. He always did, when nerves started chewing on him. The less noise he made the less chance he had to mess up. 

Halfway through the presentation, the squeak of a chair breaking free cut through the room. The handsome guy from outside that caught Izuku. Viví’s words, not mine. Also, “caught” Izuku is a strong word. 

“Excuse me, Present Mic! You have made an error! The pamphlet lists four types of villains, but the screen only shows three! This is most irregular for-“

Hitoshi tuned out the lecture until the kid spun like a turret and jabbed a finger forward.

“At the very least, the green-haired boy should cease his incessant muttering! It is distracting!”

The room went dead quiet.

Izuku froze mid-whisper. His face went scarlet. Katsuki, who was sitting beside him, smirked and rolled his eyes.

Hitoshi, sitting comfortably in the back row, couldn’t help it. A short snicker slipped out.

Izuku’s head whipped around. Their eyes met. Without thinking, Izuku shot him the finger. Hitoshi’s grin widened.

Unfortunately, to everyone else- including Mr. Hot Guy- the gesture looked like it was aimed directly at him.

The kid recoiled, scandalized. “H-HOW RUDE!”

Murmurs rippled. A few chuckles came from around the room.

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!” Yamada’s voice boomed, rattling the seats. “LET’S CUT THE DRAMA, LISTENERS! SAVE IT FOR THE ARENA!”

Hitoshi leaned back, arms crossed, watching Izuku bury his face in his hands.

Damn. This might actually be fun.

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        ⊂⊂  • )  

           /     | 

 ┏━ ⊂_﹏u ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“BEGIN!”

The gates swung open, and the flood of students exploded forward. Quirks lit the air- flames, ice, lasers, a tongue, jet engines. It was chaos.

Hitoshi stood frozen for a second too long, then bolted after them.

This is not fun. I’m so fucking cooked. This is not rizztacular- I’m gonna kill myself.

Robots twice his size barreled down alleys. Students shredded them apart before he even got within range. His quirk- the thing that always made people stop and obey- was useless against metal. No minds inside the machines. There was nothing to hook into.

He ducked a wild energy blast, coughing on smoke. Every time he got close to a target, someone else swooped in, grabbed the points, and left him with nothing but shrapnel.

His fists hurt and his lungs burned. His score? Still zero.

“…damn it.”

He kicked a piece of broken bot, and it clattered down the street like mockery.

Somewhere deeper in the zone, a roar shook the buildings. There was a large dust cloud. The zero-pointer. 

Hitoshi staggered to a stop, eyes wide as the shadow of the colossal machine swallowed a whole block. Around him, students screamed and scattered. Oh fuck no. There is still general studies at least. Hitoshi ran for the entrance. 

The ground began to rumbled. A single shockwave cracked the air.

Hitoshi turned in time to see a green blur launch itself upward, fist raised, then smash down with a blow so insane it sent the zero-pointer collapsing like a demolished tower. 

There were gasp’s, then silence. And in the middle of it all: Izuku, bones snapped and his body crumpled on the ground.

Hitoshi stared. For once, he couldn’t even think of a sarcastic comment. 

The med-bots rolled past, sirens blaring. The test was finished. Students filed out in silence, buzzing with shock.

Hitoshi trudged toward the exit, numb. Another failure to add to the list.

He was just about to make his way to the general studies exam, when he saw a flash of motion and a blur of dark clothes. Viví, sprinting past him. Not toward the gates but away. Without hesitation, his legs moved to follow her.

“Viví, wait!” he called, breaking into a run.

Whatever she was doing, whatever trouble she was running toward he wasn’t about to let her go alone.

She stopped, pushing against his chest. 

“Hitoshi, you still have to go take the general study’s exam. I’ll deal with Izuku. Don’t worry, I’ll tell him where you are.” 

Hitoshi was torn between still having a shot at his future or seeing his brother. Viví pushed him, and he decided that she had it handled.

He went and took the exam, then walked back to Viví and Izuku’s apartment because he wouldn’t dare to look Hizashi or Shouta in the eyes after his failure. 

He made sure to text them, then didn’t answer anything else. He knew it would be worrying, but he just couldn’t deal with it. 

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 ┏━ ⊂_﹏u ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Two figures are slouched on the bench across from the nurses bed that held Izuku. 

Viví is curled into Toshinori’s side- head on his shoulder, one fist loosely gripping the edge of his coat. Her eyes are shut, breathing even. Her legs are pulled up half onto the bench.

Toshinori’s arm is wrapped around her shoulders, and his chin rests against the top of her head. One leg twitches now and then like he’s dreaming about running.

Neither of them wakes when Izuku stirs.

“…ghhh…?”

It’s barely a sound. Recovery Girl is already beside him with her cane, smiling.

“Well well,” she says, patting his arm. “Took you long enough.”

Izuku groans. “Did… did I win? Do I get a urinal?”

“No,” she says flatly. “You fought a robot and broke both arms.”

She checks his vitals, eyes his bandages, mutters something about “damn kids and their spines,” then sighs and nods.

“You’re good to go. Just don’t punch any more skyscraper-sized death machines for the next 48 hours, please.”

Izuku blinks up at her and says nothing. Her lips stretch out and kiss him on the forehead. There’s a brief glow and his bruises fade.

The rest, bone, tendon, whatever survived the impact, will need time. But the worst is patched.

“Sleepy?” she asks, ruffling his hair.

He nods slowly, blinking harder now.

“Good. That means it worked.”

Across the room, Viví stirs.

She lifts her head from Toshinori’s shoulder with a squint, then spots Izuku sitting up. She yawns and stretches while mumbling.

“Zukuchan?”

“Hi,” he mumbles.

She’s up before he can say more, grabbing her bag and crossing the room in two strides.

He sways slightly as he tries to sit, and she ducks to steady him.

“Okay, okay. Don’t die. Again.”

“I’m fine,” he mutters. “I’m just… sleepy.”

“Recovery Girl Kiss of Healing,” she nods. “So cool. I am gonna need to interview her about her quirk sometime!”

Toshinori stretches behind her, groaning as he stands. “C’mon then, you two. Let’s get you home.”

Izuku is half-asleep again by the time Toshinori unlocks the car.

Viví climbs into the back with him, letting him lean his head against her shoulder. She quietly straps him in like they’re five years old again.

The ride is quiet. Toshinori glances in the mirror once. Viví mouths thank you. He reaches back and pats her leg, a small comfort.

At the apartment, getting Izuku upstairs is a team effort.

Toshinori takes his arm, Viví carries his bag. He’s dead on his feet, but they get him to his bed without incident. He flops face-first onto his comforter and makes a noise like a dying whale.

Toshinori takes a moment to look at all of the All Might memorabilia. He knew Izuku was an All Might fanboy, so he wasn’t surprised by the amount of merch. He did smile at the framed photo that Toshinori took of him at the start of his training journey. 

Viví tosses a blanket over Izuku, and stuffs a random All Might plush into his arms.

“You did good, Izuku,” she whispers.

He grunts and immediately clocks out of awakeness. She pads out to the kitchen.

Toshinori lingers in the hallway. “You sure you don’t need help getting him settled?”

“He’s down for the count. Trust me, nothing short of setting the kitchen on fire would wake him.”

She opens the fridge and pulls out rice and eggs. Also something frozen and questionable that might’ve once been dumplings. 

“Dinner?” She offers, seeing Toshinori halfway to the door. “Stay. I’ll tell you how our exams went.”

Toshinori sits at the small kitchen table, elbows resting on knees, gaze soft.

Viví stirs the pan of eggs and frozen dumplings with one hand and narrates with the other.

“So first off,” she says, flipping a dumpling, “the test was kinda crazy. I’m sure you heard parts of it, especially when I started running around. There wasn’t even a test. Not like, not really.”

Toshinori chuckles, voice light. “I saw you running around, near the end. Though I was more focused on Young Izuku. Sorry.”

“That’s alright. You missed me almost beat Nedzu in chess.”

His head lifts. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been playing him online for years. He doesn’t know I’m Veridian, obviously. But it helped. A lot.”

She tosses a grin over her shoulder. “I didn’t win, but I backed him into a corner. He forfeited.”

Toshinori lets out a low whistle.

Viví sets the spatula down, wiping her hands on her shorts. “He offered me a spot. Said I’d be his personal student.”

He visibly shudders. Viví raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen his personal student’s,” he mutters. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

She laughs. “Too late.”

He leans back in the chair, eyes softening. “I’m extremely proud of you, you know.”

Viví’s breath hitches for half a second. She shrugs it off. “Yeah well, I'm just lucky nobody else applied for it. Which is kinda strange, but people are just losers.” Later I found out the day I clicked on it and applied, it was taken off the website. Damn chimera.

She hesitates, before finally breaking the ice. “…And Izuku?” She flips a dumpling with too much force.

“It… didn’t go great.” Toshinori leans back, hand combing through his hair.

Viví sighs and lowers the heat.

“I only saw bits and pieces. I was running around gathering quirk data, but I looked up just in time to see him fall. Like, really fall. He broke both arms saving someone, right? Present Mic was about to hit the emergency kill-switch.” Viví picks at her thumbnail. 

“He technically got zero points.” Toshinori’s hand clenches slightly on the table edge.

Her stomach sinks.

“But,” she adds quickly, “there- there’s something else going on. Like, a second system.”

Toshinori looks up, eyebrows raised. She meets his gaze, eyes sharp.

“He saved a girl from dying. I remember, she saved him outside from total embarrassment,” she laughed with no real joy, “Even without a quirk. Even with no points on the board. If there’s even one competent person on the exam board- which, you know, hopefully- then there’s gotta be something like… ‘Hero Points.’ Or ‘Moral Points.’ Or ‘Hey, that kid almost died for a stranger’ points.”

Her voice falters for the first time.

“…If I’m wrong. And they don’t have that…”

She doesn’t finish. Her nose begins to twitch. Toshinori knows that means the waterworks are about to start. Midoriya’s both have their own tells for when the waterworks are about to start. Izuku before he’s about to cry goes really quiet, and Viví’s nose starts to twitch. Toshinori stands, steps over, and pulls her into a hug.

“You’re not wrong,” he says, firmly. “He’s going to pass.”

She nods into his shirt, tears spilling over the sides. “Okay.”

They stand like that for a moment.

In the next room, Izuku snores once. Loudly.

Both of them laugh, just a little.

Viví is wiping her tears away when the front door clicks open.

Viví and Toshinori pull apart.

Standing in the entryway, bag over her shoulder, uniform still half-buttoned from her hospital shift-

Inko Midoriya.

She freezes and looks between the two of them.

Nobody speaks.

Inko froze in the doorway, her gaze darting between Viví and Toshinori. She walked to the dining room table. Her keys jingled once, then clattered against the wood. 

Her voice cracked the silence flatly, heavy with exhaustion, “Is he going to kill you or rob us?”

Viví’s throat locked. Her cheeks burned. She shot Toshinori a frantic glance, then blurted,  “No. He’s Izuku’s mentor.”

Inko blinked at him once and rolled her eyes.

“…whatever.”

She kicked off her shoes with a clumsy stumble, one toppling sideways into the wall. The faint, sour trace of alcohol followed her as she padded down the short hall, tugging her cardigan half off one shoulder.

Her door clicked shut a beat later and silence returned.

Viví stared down at the pan, mortified, spatula clenched tight in her hand. Heat crawled up her neck and ears. She could feel Toshinori’s presence behind her, waiting for him to say something, anything.

He didn’t.

The chair creaked softly as he sat back down. He picked up a dumpling with his chopsticks, chewed once, twice.

Not a word.

Viví wanted to sink through the floor.

Then there was a creak from the hallway again. Viví begged it wasn’t her mother coming back to say more, and let out a sigh when she saw who it was.

Hitoshi padded out, hoodie wrinkled, hair sticking every direction like he’d been pressing his face into a pillow for hours. His eyes were rimmed red. He blinked once at Toshinori, then gave a stiff nod.

“…Good evening, Mr. Yagi.”

The formality made Toshinori pause mid-bite. He inclined his head politely, as if they were strangers meeting at a common space.

Hitoshi didn’t wait for an answer. He crossed the room in three steps and slumped into Viví’s arms. She caught him automatically, patting his back once, awkward and gentle.

“I saw Aizawa and Yamada’s faces,” she murmured, low enough that it was half-confession.

Hitoshi’s reply was muffled against her shoulder. “I’m praying studying with you helped me get into at least general studies.”

Toshinori set his chopsticks down, thoughtful. “You are Aizawa and Yamada’s kid. There’s no way you won’t get it. Surprisingly, they have a lot of pull. Well, Aizawa does at least, from what I’ve heard.”

Hitoshi stirred, lifting his head just enough to protest. “But I wa-”

“You wanted to get in on your own,” Viví cut in, smoothing the back of his hair. Her tone was quiet, steady. “They aren’t gonna pull you into the hero course, no matter how much leverage they have. Probably just general studies. Then you can prove yourself and get into heroics another way.”

Hitoshi’s mouth pressed thin. He didn’t argue. He didn’t agree. He just reached sideways, plucked a dumpling off Toshinori’s plate without asking, and trudged back toward the spare room.

The door shut behind him with a dull click.

Viví exhaled, leaning both hands against the counter. Toshinori didn’t comment. He picked his chopsticks back up, and grabbed a dumpling to hold out to her. She ate it, and accidentally took one of his chopsticks with it. 

After another thirty minutes of chatter the two finished their meal. Toshinori stacked his empty plate, rinsed it in the sink and loaded it back onto the shelf. He got his coat off the back of his chair, and straightened it out as he slid it on.

“I should be heading home,” he said, his voice carrying that careful warmth of someone who didn’t want to overstay.

Viví stood to walk him out, but he stopped her halfway through the doorway. One long arm bent, wrapping her in a hug. Gentle, but steady, like it came from years of love yet only held months of familiarity. Before she could make a joke or squirm away, he bent slightly and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

“Rest well, Young Viví,” he murmured, before straightening and stepping into the hall. The door clicked shut behind him.

Viví lingered, one hand absently brushing over her hair. With a sigh she grabbed two glasses, filled them with water and ice, and padded barefoot down the hall.

The spare room was dim, lit only by the glow of Hitoshi’s phone. He was propped against the headboard, hoodie bunched around his chin, tears still streaking his face. The faint sound of whatever playlist he had running bled into the air.

She nudged the door open with her elbow and held out the glass. “Crying a bunch makes you dehydrated,” she said, matter-of-fact. “You don’t wanna have a headache on top of being sad, do you?”

Hitoshi didn’t answer. Just stared at her, eyes heavy, as if weighing whether he could roll them or not.

She placed the glass on his nightstand anyway, then crawled right into the bed beside him. She tugged him down by the shoulder until he was lying flat, then tucked herself at his side, warm and present.

“You’re pathetic,” she muttered- not cruel, more like the way someone teases a cat for getting stuck in a box.

He huffed, but didn’t pull away.

Without warning, she grabbed his phone, scrolled through, and opened the first thing she found. A random All Might fanfic on AO3. She read the opening line out loud, her voice deadpan.

Shinso’s laugh tore out of him before he could stop it, loud and cracked from crying. His hands moved, pointing once at her, then sticking his pinky and thumb out while circling aggressively over his mouth. “ You're ridiculous.”

“I’m gonna assume you said I’m both mystical and magical,” Hitoshi smiled, then lifted his hand again and did some finger spelling.

“Wait, go slower, do it again.”

“ R-I-Z-Z-T-A-C-U-L-A-R. ”

“I will smother you with this pillow if you EVER call me that again.” she replied, flipping to a random horror fic next without explanation. She read the opening in the same flat tone, free hand moving up to rake slowly through his hair.

Hitoshi didn’t laugh this time. He just listened, eyelids heavier with each sentence, until his breathing slowed against her arm.

Viví kept scrolling, kept reading nonsense, until finally- his head slipped sideways onto the sheets, his body sinking fully into sleep.

          .         ⊹ ₊

             __  ♡

        ⊂⊂  • )  

           /     | 

 ┏━ ⊂_﹏u ━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The first thing on Hitoshi’s mind when he stirred was the test.

The way his quirk had felt useless. The way his fists had clenched but his feet wouldn’t move fast enough. The way he’d failed. The sick, sour certainty that he’d never make it as a hero.

It burned through him for a heartbeat- until the weight under his cheek shifted, and reality caught up.

He wasn’t in his own bed.

Or rather, he was. His bed at the Midoriya’s. But not alone?

He was curled on top of Viví, his head tucked under her chin like some stray cat that had made itself too comfortable. Her arm was looped lazily around him, asleep still, hair in her face.

Hitoshi froze.

Then, slowly- very slowly - he rolled off her.

Except there wasn’t much bed left.

He hit the floor with a dull thump.

Viví stirred at the noise, one eye cracking open. “…Huh? Oh…” She yawned, stretched, then mumbled, “Great way to start the day. I agree.”

And without another thought, she rolled straight off the mattress after him- landing squarely on his chest.

“OW! Hitoshi wheezed.

Viví grinned, half-asleep, sprawled on top of him like dead weight.

“Morning, sunshine.”

Notes:

Hitoshi and Vivi make me wanna throw up. i love them sm. and then theres izuku.

Chapter 20: whine whine whine!

Summary:

Yay! Yay! awe shucks!

Izuku paced a lot, and typically went from the couch to the window and back again.

He has been doing this for years. He does it so much, there is a dent in the carpet from his path of pacing. Currently Izuku is muttering under his breath with each pass. His brain replayed the test on an endless loop. Running back and forth through the alleys, not getting a single point. He broke his arm. And didn’t get a single point.

“No points, no points, no points,” he whispered, fingers twisting at the hem of his shirt. “Zero. I got zero points. That’s - that’s failure, that’s literal failure. They’re not even going to - they’ll laugh, they’ll laugh, they’ll -”

“Baby,” Inko said softly from the couch, “you’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I already am sick!” he yelped, hair sticking to his forehead in damp curls. “I didn’t even hit anything! I didn’t - I - the zero-pointer -” His words tangled into incoherent babble, hands flailing like he could wrestle the memory out of the air. His wrist still hurts.

Viví sat cross-legged on the floor, notebook propped on her knees. She hadn’t said a word in an hour. Her pencil scratched idly, like she was taking notes on his breakdown.

He stopped, spun on her. “You’re writing this down?!”

She looked up, deadpan. “Case study.”

His jaw dropped. Before he could explode, Hitoshi’s muffled voice floated from the spare room, “Izuku, please, some of us are trying to be depressed in peace.”

Izuku made a strangled noise that wasn’t quite human. He buried his face in his palms, muttering furiously to himself.

Knock knock knock.

Everyone froze.

Izuku’s head shot toward the door. His chest felt like it collapsed inward, heart clawing its way up into his throat.

Another knock.

He tripped over his own foot sprinting for it. His hands shook so badly he almost dropped the envelope the second he saw it. A thick and very heavy envelope. His name printed in bold.

He staggered back into the living room, clutching it like it might explode. “It’s here, oh god, it’s actually here in my hands.” First full sentence this man has said in days without interjecting himself with “I failed” or “I’m never gonna be a hero.”

“Open it,” Viví said. Her pencil tapped against her knee.

His hands wouldn’t obey. He stared at the seal until it blurred. Inko gently took it, ripped it clean, and pressed it back into his palms.

Light bloomed from a small disk, and Izuku panicked and dropped it.

A hologram flickered up, bright and golden.

“All Might?!” Izuku shrieked, stumbling backward so hard he nearly toppled over the coffee table.

The hologram smiled that impossible smile, voice booming, “Young Midoriya!”

Izuku’s breath hitched. His whole body shook.

All Might spoke of courage, of rushing headlong without a thought for points, of saving with every ounce of himself. His words crashed through the room like a storm. The footage played: Izuku breaking his body against the zero-pointer, rubble trembling from the impact, the girl saved below. Then the videos of the stuck-up and pretty girl played, them asking to give their points to him.

By the time All Might declared, “Welcome to the Hero Course of U.A. High School!” Izuku’s face was soaked.

He collapsed forward onto his knees, sobbing. Inko’s arms wrapped around him from behind, crying just as hard.

Over his shoulder, Viví’s pencil had finally stilled. Her expression unreadable.

 

          .         ⊹ ₊

             __  ♡

        ⊂⊂  • )  

           /     | 

 ┏━⊂_﹏u━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

Hitoshi had decided hours ago he wouldn’t check the mail.

It wasn’t worth it.

The test had been a disaster. He hadn’t landed a single blow, hadn’t saved anyone, hadn’t shown anything that looked remotely like heroism. He’d walked out of the gates of U.A. with his shoulders slumped and his throat raw from holding back a scream of humiliation.

So when the knock came, when Izuku practically tackled the door, Hitoshi stayed in the spare bedroom, staring at the ceiling.

He told himself he didn’t care.

He told himself there would be nothing. Or worse. One word: Rejected.

But then another knock came.

Inko’s voice filtered soft through the hall, “Shinso, sweetie? There’s one for you, too.”

For a second he couldn’t breathe.

His feet carried him to the door anyway. He opened it just enough for the envelope to be slipped through. He stepped outside to make sure Inko had gone back to congratulating Izuku. 

The note felt light. Too light for good news.

Hands trembling, he tore it open.

It was just paper, folded crisp.

Congratulations, Shinso Hitoshi. You have been accepted into U.A. High School’s General Studies Department.

The words blurred behind tears. He sat down on the floor. Right there, in the doorway.

General Studies.

Not Heroics. He’d known that. He’d expected worse. He’d prepared himself to be shut out completely.

But this- this was something. A foothold. He could climb, even if he was starting at rock bottom. 

His throat tightened anyway. His chest ached. He pressed the letter to his forehead and laughed once shakily.

“…Guess I didn’t bomb as bad as I thought.”

From the living room, he could hear Izuku crying, his mother crying with him. He couldn’t hear Viví.

Hitoshi sat in the quiet of the hall, emotions simmering. His eyes stung, and whispered to himself, “I’ll prove it. I’ll make them see. This isn’t the end.”

Viví padded down the hall, notebook tucked neatly under her arm. She expected him to be asleep in bed, and not to stumble straight into Hitoshi sitting cross-legged on the floor with an envelope crushed in his hand.

He looked up. His eyes were swollen but burning. She assumed the worst.

“…I got in,” he whispered.

Viví blinked. “…What?”

“General Studies. I got in.”

Her jaw dropped. Without thinking she shrieked at the top of her lungs. Hitoshi actually flinched.

“You got in!” she laughed, seizing his sleeve and yanking him to his feet. “You- oh my god- you GOT IN.”

He barely had time to stammer before she was dragging him down the hall, straight toward the living room.

“Izuku- Izuku, he did it- Hitoshi got in!”

The door slammed open so hard it rattled the frame. Izuku stumbled in, cheeks blotchy from tears but glowing brighter than a star. “No way- seriously?!”

Hitoshi shoved the paper at him, and Izuku grabbed it with both hands like it was the single most precious thing he’d ever touched. His eyes darted back and forth, reading the words over and over as though they might disappear if he blinked too much.

“This is amazing!” Izuku gasped, his voice cracking with joy. “We all - we all…” His words faltered, shoulders hitching, the sentence dissolving into a ragged breath. “We made it.”

 

             __  ♡

        ⊂⊂  • )  

           /     | 

 ┏━⊂_﹏u━━━━━━━━━━━━

 

The word we hung in the air like smoke.

Because at the table, Inko was already sifting through the neat little pile of envelopes the mailman had left behind. Bills, flyers, letters, way too many college letters asking the Midoriya’s to consider their school. 

There was not one thing addressed to Viví.

Inko’s eyes flicked up. They darted to the sides and landed back on her. They were filled with only one emotion, pity. 

The exact same look Viví had grown up seeing- on neighbors’ faces when they whispered, on teachers when they moved past her desk too quickly, on strangers when they realized oh, she’s the one without a quirk.

No quirk meant no chance. Well guess what, she’s wrong this time.

Hitoshi noticed first. His grin faltered. His eyes slid to her. Then Izuku, still beaming, still clutching the letter, caught the silence and turned too. Both boys’ gazes fell heavy on her.

“…Why are you all staring at me?” Viví’s voice cut through the room.

“You didn’t get a letter,” Hitoshi muttered, words landing heavy.

Viví’s mouth opened- ready to fire back, ready to joke, ready to anything.

But Inko spoke first, calm and unbothered. So casual it was almost cruel.

“Well. I suppose you really do need a quirk to be a hero. Shame.”

The world tilted.

Something inside Viví snapped, a thread pulled too far and finally broke. Her vision seared at the edges, burning like a migraine. Her fingernails dug crescents into her palms until the sting of her own skin was the only thing keeping her upright.

But when she answered, her voice wasn’t broken. It wasn’t even shaky. It was steady, it was filled with pride.

“I didn’t say anything,” she said slowly, “because you two had such a bad exam I didn’t want to parade during your rain. But I got in. Nedzu told me after my test I’d officially be his personal student for the analysis track.”

The room went still.

Then both boys erupted.

“You WHAT?!”

“You didn’t TELL us?!”

Their voices tangled, overlapping in a chaotic storm with half fury and half celebration. Hitoshi grabbed her by the shoulders like he might shake the truth out of her. Izuku practically bounced on his heels, torn between demanding every detail and hugging her until her ribs cracked.

“You’re literally- Viví- you’re literally the principal’s student?!”

“That’s insane, why wouldn’t you SAY anything?!”

Their joy was loud, chaotic, and overwhelming.

And Viví- Viví let herself smirk, just a little, the corner of her mouth tugging upward. She could celebrate with them. But over their shouts, one person said nothing.

Inko didn’t look up. Didn’t congratulate, or take back what she said. 

She just restacked the mail, neat and orderly, paper edges lined up perfectly as though it mattered more than anything else in the room.

As though her daughter hadn’t spoken at all.

The room burst alive with sound.

Izuku whooped so loud the windows rattled, waving Hitoshi’s acceptance letter like a victory flag. Hitoshi grabbed Viví by the arm, shaking her back and forth, his own voice rising to match. The two of them crowded around her, hands tugging, words tumbling over each other in a storm of disbelief and joy.

Their laughter tangled with hers, wild and messy, bouncing off the walls like fireworks. Viví yelled with them, let herself be pulled into the noise, her voice raw with exhilaration. She threw her head back and laughed too loud, too sharp, drowning out the burn in her chest.

Because if she didn’t laugh, she’d scream.

She had done it. She had clawed her way through years of abuse, through pitying looks and locked doors. She had reached her dream with her own two hands. 

And her mother didn’t even have the decency to look at her.

Inko quietly turned heel, back to her room. 

Turned heel. To most it means she planted her foot, and turned on her heel. But it’s also a wrestling term. A wrestler “turning heel” means they adopt a villainous persona. And right now as I’m watching Inko walk away from me, probably to drown herself in a bottle wine, all I see is a villain. A woman with a heart so full of hate, it makes me wonder if it’s genetic. Because right now I as well, am full of hate. Hate, hate for her. Hate for being quirkless. Hate for what she did. And what she didn’t do.

Not once did she lift her head.

Not once did her mouth twitch into a smile.

No once did she turn around and even look Viví in the eyes.

Not once did she take back what she’d said.

“Well. I suppose you really do need a quirk to be a hero. Shame.”

 

The words still hung in the air like smoke. She hadn’t swallowed them. She hadn’t apologized. She hadn’t even acknowledged that Viví had spoken afterward.

She just moved on, headed back to her room. That, more than anything, made Viví’s blood boil.

She kept laughing with Izuku and Hitoshi, louder, brighter, teeth bared in a grin. Her voice rose above theirs, masking the fury that surged hotter with every second.

Because even in her triumph- even at the peak of everything she had fought for- her mother still looked at her the same way everyone else had.

As if she was nothing at all.

Notes:

ive just been writing and letting it take me somewhere
but i promise in a few chaptera well get them to UA i swear.

Notes:

This story has such a loose plot, so if anything doesn't make sense its not you its the story <333
I have planned it out slightly, but for the most part i'm just free writing the chapters and adding new things in the middle all the time which is why it might feel kinda rushed or very choppy. But also i'm not a professional writer either, i barely passed english last semester /jkjkjk