Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Despite what many later came to believe, Izuku Midoriya was not born a villain.

He wasn't born with a knife in his hand and a bright, menacing grin on his face. He didn't spend his childhood years hunting down small animals or ripping the wings off insects. He didn't spend his early teenage years watching crowds and thinking about how he could kill each person he passed using only the contents of his pockets.

But that's not the story most people came to know. Not the version of him that got spread around the internet and printed on the front of newspapers.

As far as most people knew, what Izuku Midoriya became was what he was born to be. The inevitable outcome for someone like him. Foreseen and expected.

The villainous son of a villainous father.

Predictable.

And there was no money to be made in talking about a kind, loving boy who got involved in something he never chose, something he hadn't really understood until he was too entwined with it to leave. Not when there was a far juicier story about a boy who was born to do bad things. A boy born to evil. With a darkness in his blood and in his genes that could never be untangled from the rest of him. Even if that version of the story wasn't true.

In a society when heroes ruled over all, there was no money to be made in showing a villain as human. Not when all the world decided he was a monster.

But that's the end of the story. The conclusion most people saw as forgone the moment they learnt who his father was.

The story begins with a boy who didn't know his father beyond the visits he made every few years and the stories Inko told. Short visits that consisted of telling his father about what he'd been up to for the last few years, missing out the bad parts he wasn't willing to tell a mostly stranger, games that always had him feeling his father was three steps ahead of him, and watching Inko smile at his father like he was the most beautiful thing she'd seen.

If you'd asked him back then, he'd have told you that he loved his father. Looking back, he suspects that was more an obligation than a feeling. That he felt like he had to love the man who seemed to care but never stayed and who made Inko shine with joy.

Looking back, Inko must have known what he was. That's the only reason Izuku can think of for why she acted like she did the day his quirk developed.

He had been ten. Far later than most quirks developed. Every doctor, every teacher, every classmate had brushed him off as a quirkless nobody. He's spent so long living like that he could barely remember what it was like to be worth anything to anyone but Inko.

The burns weren't new. They covered his arms with reddened skin that itched and stung. Bright spots of red against pale skin.

Kacchan… Bakugo wasn't new, and his treatment of Izuku wasn't either.

The teachers didn't care. They never did. Izuku was a quirkless loser, Bakugo was a shoe in for heroics. Between the two of them, it was clear which they'd chosen to prioritise, which they'd chosen to focus on. The burns on Izuku’s skin weren't worth the mark on Bakugo's records. Not when a sign of his less than exemplary behaviour could risk his future as a hero. And he had such a bright future as a hero, they were all certain.

Izuku had never asked them for help. When he was younger, it was because he'd hoped Bakugo would stop by himself. They'd been friends, so surely he'd realise what he was doing and forgive Izuku for being born wrong soon enough. When that failed to happen, when the pieces finally clicked together in Izuku’s mind and he realised it wasn't going to stop, he'd already seen one too many teachers purposefully turn their backs when he cried over reddened skin.

It had been a day like any other, and that meant a day of hurting.

“Shitty nerd.” Bakugo scoffed, towering over Izuku.

Izuku’s bag was burnt and smoking next to the locker he was pushing himself back into. Trying to put some distance between him and his attackers. They had come out of nowhere, but he supposes he should have seen it coming. It wasn't the first time Bakugo had waited in the entrance hall for him after class.

Bakugo's current lackeys were gathered around, all laughing at the tears that Izuku tried to hold back. When one went to kick him, he flinched away, hitting his back against the locker. He ended up awkwardly curled up on the ground, trying so desperately to keep his distance, even as metal dug into his shoulder blades.

The laughter grew louder. Bakugo said some jeers that fell of deaf ears. Too focused on the noise, on the sound of that harsh laughter to pick out words beyond the ones echoing in his own head.

Please stop.

Please.

There was a flash and Izuku looked up just in time to see Bakugo reaching out to grab the front of his uniform. Dragging him up as best he could with explosions popping in his other hand. The words washed over him again. The sounds blurring into a mess of disdain and hate.

Izuku couldn't look him in the eye. Couldn't stomach what he knew was looking back at him. His eyes darted around, only to fix on something on top of one of the lockers, just above Bakugo's head. An old lunchbox, the worn face of All Might smiling out from the side. A bright grin covered in dust.

Please. Make it stop.

Something pulled, something inside Izuku. A feeling in his chest that flowed through his body until it reached his finger tips, echoing out. Like a string of elastic, wrapped through his muscles and bones, through his being, being stretched, sliding through his body until the end slipped free and sprang loose in a snap.

The lunchbox shifted, just enough for it to tip over the edge. The edge of it hit Bakugo's head as it fell.

Bakugo dropped Izuku, swearing more than a ten year old should be able to and looked for what hit him. His lackeys paused in their laughter to see what their leader had been distracted by.

Izuku grabbed his bag and ran.

And, as he ran, though his body ached from burns and bruises, though tears were still falling from his eyes in cascades, he grinned. He smiled and skipped and felt laughter bubbling up as much as the tears.

He had a quirk after all. He wasn't the useless Deku they said he was. He wasn't worthless. They wouldn't kick him down anymore because he had a quirk! He was worth something!

He could be a hero.

Of course, his first instinct was to tell his mum. To go running up to Inko the moment he got through the front door and start telling her all about it, spilling every detail and sitting down with her, trying his quirk on any other object within reach.

But she was on the phone when he got home. She noticed his bright smile and smiled back, mouthing a hello. He waved to her as she went back to talking to whoever was on the other line, then skipped off to his room

No matter, he can practise his quirk on his own then show her later. She'd be so happy!

Inko came into his room to get him for dinner an hour later to find Izuku sitting on the floor, staring at one of his All Might figurines with as much concentration as a ten year old could manage, half the contents on his bookshelf now strewn around the floor. She blinked a few times, taking in the mess.

“Izuku, honey?”

He looked up at her, concentration still lining his face and she felt something… strange.

Like a string, wrapped through and around her organs pulling. It felt similar to how it felt to use her quirk, only the end didn't spring loose, didn't snap tight and pull the object with it. It slid, unravelling from her. Something in her bones, in her blood, strung through her muscles, through each of her fingers, pulling loose. Sliding through her body with that gentle but insistent pull until her body was left empty except for a ball of it in her chest.

There was something in her throat. Something rising, pushing its way out of her. Something warm and solid and familiar. She found herself trying to choke it back down without knowing why, just knowing that whoever was forcing its way out of her was part of her. But it kept pushing, forcing her teeth apart and sliding out between them.

An orb floated in the air in front of her face. The insides flowing around itself, alight with energy. The light dimmed and the movement slowed, the orb solidifying.

A small, green marble fell to the floor between them.

And Inko knew with the same certainty she'd know her own face in the mirror that it was a part of her. Ripped from her body. It was hers and it didn't belong on the floor, surrounded by books and All Might merchandise.

They both stared at it.

She held her hand out towards it, going to use her quirk to pull it back to her. But there was no energy in her body, no shifting of something between her muscles to pull it. Her body was empty, just flesh with nothing more inside. It didn't move.

She bent down to pick it up and it felt warm against her skin. It felt like it was gently pulling at her fingers, just a gentle tug with no real power behind it.

What power could her quirk have when it was no longer part of her person?

She stared at her own quirk, solid in her hands.

“Mum?” Izuku’s voice was small, his eyes flickering between the marble and Inko's face. She took a moment to compose herself, still holding her quirk in her hands. She smiled at Izuku, though it seemed cracked and forced, and reminded him that dinner was ready.

It wasn't until years later that Izuku realised what he'd seen on her face that day. She'd been scared. Scared because he had his father's power.

They sat down to eat. And Inko spent the rest of the night trying to work out how to get her quirk back. She finally managed it by pushing the marble into her chest, watching it dissolve and flow into her, wrapping itself around inside her again, settling into place. She tested her quirk on one of her own books, seeing it float towards her as she pulled.

The next day, she smiled and told Izuku that he shouldn't tell his classmates about his quirk.

He remembered the look on her face the night before and agreed.

***

Inko always closed the blinds when Izuku was practising his quirk. She'd shut them tight and do a check around the house, though he never knew what she was looking for. Sometimes they'd leave home for the weekend, heading out to a small house in the middle of the countryside — when he asked, she'd say it belonged to his father — and he'd get to practise his quirk outside, always with her watching over the surroundings.

He lifted books and All Might figurines at home. At the hidden house, he'd carry logs without touching them. He kept a notebook to detail everything new he learnt about his quirk, which Inko would hide when he wasn't using it.

He could pick up objects without touching them. It got harder the heavier they were, but he practised and practised in those precious times he got when Inko said he could. By the time he was thirteen, he could lift himself off the ground, though that always got tiring quickly and Inko never let him fly higher than a foot.

At the countryside house, he'd pick out a rock and lift it, then move backwards and pick it up again. He'd keep going until it was too far away for him to do anything, then have Inko measure the distance. Over the years, that number grew: ten meters to twelve to fifteen. Inko would cheer for him each time he reached a new milestone.

He didn't like practising taking quirks. Each time he'd watch that green marble appear from Inko would feel like the first time, tinged with the same fear and uncertainty. But Inko always gently told him it was good to practise. She never forced him, always happy to cheer him on lifting rocks and books and his All Might figures instead, but she started smiling each time she'd push that marble back into her chest. It became less shaky over the years, more pride and happiness for her son than fear over what he could do. But she still didn't let him try it at home, only in the countryside house where there was no one for miles to see what he was doing. She still closed the blinds anyway.

She gently suggested he try using her quirk once. He'd pressed the marble into his own chest and felt it slide through his body, but it felt like oil. Slick and dark, still moving and pushing against his insides even as it settled into place. He tried using it and almost threw up from the feeling of that oil winding through his fingers, some of it pushing at his throat. He pulled it out of himself without even really thinking about it and she never asked again.

He never knew if she told his father about what was going on, about his quirk. He'd stopped visiting shortly after Izuku first discovered his quirk. Inko told him it wasn't related, that his father's sudden absence had nothing to do with him, but didn't know anything more.

He named his power Quirk Shift, writing it over the cover of his notebook.

Inko smiled, running her fingers over the name and told him it was a good name for his quirk, then went to put the notebook back in its hiding place.

Izuku thought Bakugo knew there was something going on. He still called him a quirkless loser, a shitty nerd, useless, worthless, but something in his tone shifted over the years. Becoming less certain in its claimed superiority. Maybe he could just see how Izuku stopped taking his words as gospel. How the insults stopped grating at him as Izuku now knew them to be untrue, based on a lie Bakugo thought to be the truth.

He was not quirkless. Even as Bakugo looked down on him for his supposed lack of power, he gazed up at him and remembers dropping a lunchbox on his head without moving a muscle. Watched him lean back in his chair, proclaiming his dominance and knew he could push that chair back a little further, just far enough to tip Bakugo out of it, without getting out of his own seat. He never did, though. He never would.

The harsh words bounced off him and he stopped thinking of himself as Bakugo's lesser, as someone weaker and less worthy. It never crossed his mind to see himself as better, as more than Bakugo in some unquantifiable way. For all Bakugo looked down on him, he saw himself standing beside him as an equal. A friend, as they had once been.

Maybe it would have been easier if he'd seen himself as better. If he could have just seen Bakugo as someone inferior, mouthing off to try and assert a position in the pecking order he didn't have and never would. The words didn't hurt as they used to, but the burns still stung, still turned skin red and angry. Maybe it would have been easier if he could have seen them as nothing but someone smaller trying to look big, like a bird puffing up its feathers.

The burn cream floated off the shelf and into his hand, gently rubbed over reddened skin. A simple shift that, after so long, came as second nature. It stung.

Bakugo cornered him, yelling about his uselessness and grabbing one of his analysis notebooks out of his hands. The notebook fell out of Bakugo’s hands, though his grip didn't weaken enough to drop it, it was just pulled away by an invisible force. Izuku grabbed it from the floor and scurried away.

Bakugo started approaching Izuku after class one day with that smug look on his face, only to trip over someone's school bag that wasn't as tucked in as it had been a moment before. He started swearing at the bag's owner for it, and Izuku purposely bumped into him to draw his ire away from the trembling student. Not used to the screaming and the insults as Izuku was.

Bakugo started yelling at him during a lunch break and Izuku began to feel his quirk pulling at Bakugo. At something inside him. Izuku's fear of the burns that may have been coming  being manifested. He gave a stuttering response that sounded too much like an insult so Bakugo hit him, stopping his quirk in its tracks. Bakugo’s quirk stayed safely nestled inside his body.

He told Inko about that last incident and she looked worried, offering to head up to the country house for the weekend, to practise his control. It didn't help. She promised to talk to someone about it, but didn't tell him who. He was too focused on his feat of getting found out, being revealed as a liar — though she still hasn't actually told him why that would have consequences — to notice.

“Izuku?” She appeared in his doorway. The blinds of his room were closed, as he had one of his notebooks floating in front of him, so her face was lit by the warm, yellow light of a lamp and what little daylight made it through the curtains, around the edges of the thick fabric.

Her face was covered in tear tracks, but her expression was resilient. She clutches her phone in one hand, the screen still lit up with the words ‘call ended’ displayed across it, ‘Hisashi’ written below in clear, white letters.

“Mum, what's wrong?” His notebook fell to the floor and he stood up, face uncertain.

She took a breath and sat down on Izuku’s bed, patting the space next to her. He sat down beside her and she wrapped an arm around him, hugging him to her side, talking slowly and quietly, her voice still a little raspy from crying.

“I talked to your father, about your quirk.” She started, pausing as she tried to find the wording. “He… thinks it would be best if you go to live with him for a while, so he can teach you to control it. I won't… I won't be able to go with you.”

He didn't have a response for that.

It had been three years since he'd last seen his father, a longer gap than usually came between his visits but not hugely noteworthy. Gaps of years between his visits weren't uncommon, and each of his visits was short. In many ways, Izuku wasn't sure how well he actually knew the man. And Inko wanted him to go and live with him. A man he knew more of through what Inko told him than through the conversation he'd actually had with the man himself.

And it would mean not seeing her.

“How long for?” He asked. Her face grew grim and the tears started to flow again, following the tracks already laid out on her face. 

“I don't know. Just… until he thinks you have it under control. It might be a while.” She tried to make her voice reassuring. To imbue it with the reminder of how this would be good for Izuku. But her tears said more than her tone.

He looked down at his hands.

The longest he'd been away from her before that was a school trip the year before. That had only been a week, and he'd missed her the entire time, even if they spent each night talking on the phone, Izuku relaying each place they'd gone to during that day. Telling her everything as though she were sat beside him.

He didn't know how long “a while” was, but he was guessing it was longer than a week. He knew enough about quirk training — mostly from the research he'd done into heroes and their training methods — to know these things weren't quick.

“It'll be good for you. He'll help you. I'll call every night and I'm sure he'll let you come back here a lot. I'll still be here, and this will still be your home, okay?”

He's not sure if she was reassuring him or herself. So he just hugged her.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close to her chest, her chin resting on his head. She rubbed his back and he could feel tears dripping into his hair, his own soaking into her cardigan. She pressed a kiss to his head and squeezed him tighter.

“It's not forever. Just until you have it under control. I'll still be here. I'll always be here.”

She had sounded so sure.

***

When he'd gotten the All Might suitcase, it had mostly been because it was a limited edition item. When he'd gone on trips before, he'd used one of the suitcases Inko had, an old, beaten brown case. He hadn't wanted to risk damaging his All Might case. This time, he packed his things inside it, wanting to have that smiling face there to reassure him on the journey.

Inko helped him pack, going through his things and working out what he might want to have with him over the next… however long. He packed his notebooks, a few of his favourite All Might figurines to decorate whatever room his dad would give him, a framed picture of him and his mum that usually sat on the side in the living room, as well as all the essentials.

Inko got him a large selection of snacks (which came with a reminder not to eat them all at once) and helped him pick out what things he might want to have with him during the journey itself. She didn't seem to know how long it would be, how far away he was going, so made sure he had enough in his All Might themed backpack for a long trip.

When the day came for him to leave, he pulled on his All Might hoodie on top of his clothes and had breakfast with Inko — his favourite, she made sure. She told him that his father would collect him around ten, so they spent breakfast talking about Izuku’s father. Inko was happy to repeat stories he'd already heard about the man, with that same, warm smile on her face she always wore when he was there.

It didn't completely get rid of the worry in his gut, but it did lessen it. He knew the kind of person he was going to stay with, even if he remembers little about the man himself.

She helped him bring his things into the kitchen, right by the front door, ready to be carried out, as it got closer to ten. They both waited, sitting together, arms slung around each other, both already crying at the idea of Izuku leaving, waiting for that knock on the front door that would send him away.

It never came.

Instead, when it hit ten, something appeared in the kitchen beside them. A dark mass of mist, lined with purple, that grew and grew. Izuku backed away from it, but Inko stood firm, a look of mild surprise on her face, but not fear. Not concern for anything but Izuku’s imminent departure.

The mist swirled around itself as Inko pulled Izuku into a hug. “I'll call you tonight, okay? And tomorrow night. You'll be okay, I love you.”

He held her tight, his eyes still on the mist. They hugged for a long time, but, eventually, she let him go and gently led him towards the mist, the portal, grabbing his bags and handing them to him. It took him a while to let go of her hand long enough to take them.

He looked back at her and she gave him a gentle smile, tears still falling. The last time he'd get to see her for who knows how long.

He walked into the mist and she disappeared behind him.

The room he found himself in was dark. There was a light, but it seemed to do little to light up the room when all the walls seemed to be bland, utilitarian stone and wood. There was furniture dotted around which did little to make the place feel comfortable, with its high ceiling and large size, everything seeming so far apart, unlike the small, cozy home he'd just left.

There was a small kitchen area in one corner, clean counters and neat cupboards lining the walls. Some sofas were set out in the middle of the room, a pale, orange rug there did its best to make that area look warm and inviting but failed miserably. And another corner was dotted with screens, a computer and a wide variety of consoles and disks strewn around. Then there was one area that just contained exercise equipment. The rest was just uninviting empty space, stretching between those points of interest.

The upstairs area hung over the room, a window from one of those higher rooms looking out over him. It seemed to be the only window in the building, the only one Izuku could see, with the rest of the walls blank and unadorned. It might have been ten in the morning, but there was no sunlight in the room. No way for it to get in.

He assumed the area he was in was a basement level as there didn't actually appear to be a front door either. Just the door to the upstairs area.

In front of him stood three people.

A man dressed in a neat shirt and waistcoat, a metal brace around his neck. His face and hands seemed to be made of the same dark and purple mist that brought Izuku there. The only facial features that could be made out were two, glowing yellow eyes that peered out from the mist, regarding Izuku.

On the other side was someone who couldn't be more than eighteen or so, dressed in dark clothes and a hoodie. His messy, pale hair came down to his chin, his face cracked and dried out, like he had a bad case of eczema. He looked Izuku over with disdain in his eyes, seemingly growing the more he looked. His eyes flickered from Izuku’s hoodie, to his backpack, to his suitcase. “What the fuck?”

“Language, Tomura. We are here to greet him.” The person in the middle spoke. He was dressed in a suit and Izuku couldn't make out any of his features because of the dark, metal mask wrapped around his head.

None of them looked like his father.

He backed away.

“Izuku,” the man in the middle stepped forward, his voice echoing slightly in the large room, distorted slightly by the mask. “I am your father.”

That line and the mask remind Izuku of one of those old, pre-quirk films he watched with his mum and he almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. But he didn't. That strange building didn't feel like a safe place to do that.

“I apologise that I look different than you may recall, but the mask is an… unfortunate necessity. I am certain you will grow used to it.” His tone left no room for doubt or questions.

The man might not have looked like his father, but the voice and that way of speaking very much sounded like the man who used to visit. As creepy as it may have been, it was better than having been kidnapped. Probably.

His father didn't seem bothered by Izuku’s lack of response, carrying on as though he'd expected this. “Kurogiri here can take your bags,” he gestured to the mist headed man, “and can show you to where you will be sleeping during your stay. I'm sure Tomura here will also be happy to assist you in becoming comfortable.”

Izuku didn't like the way he said “comfortable”. There was something dark in that tone, something threatening. He glanced towards the pale haired boy — Tomura — and saw he was still looking at him with disdain. No, not at him, at his hoodie. The design that matched All Might's hero costume and the plush tufts sewn onto the hood like his hair.

Izuku folded himself into his hoodie more, burying his hands in the pocket.

Kurogiri stepped forward, picking up the suitcase and looked to Izuku before heading off towards the staircase, expecting him to follow. Izuku glanced towards his father once more before doing so.

They headed up the stairs and through the door into a small hallway. As soon as the door shut, he could hear voices behind it. He heard Tomura say something about his All Might merchandise, but had to hurry along to keep up with Kurogiri.

He was led to the room at the end of the hallway. “You will be staying here,” Kurogiri explained. “You are free to request anything you want for the room. Tomura Shigaraki is in the room beside yours, and I am at the other end of the hall. The door between mine and Tomura’s is the bathroom.”

The room was bland. A bed, a wardrobe and a bookshelf and nothing else. There wasn't a window in there either. No way for natural light to get in.

Kurogiri placed the suitcase beside the bed and turned to face Izuku. “Do you want any help unpacking?” Izuku slowly shook his head. “Then I shall leave you to it. Myself and Tomura Shigaraki will be here if you require anything.”

He left and Izuku moved to sit on his bed, staring at the blank wall opposite him.

His father wasn't what he remembered him being. And he hadn't heard anything about Tomura or Kurogiri, hadn't known there'd be anyone else there but him and his father. Hadn't expected the place he'd be sent would be so cold and utilitarian. That his room would look so much like how he imagined prison cells to look.

Inko hadn't told him about any of this.

That gave him a thought and he took off his backpack, opening one of the side pockets and taking out his phone. He could call her, let her know what this place was actually like and she could have him come home, or could reassure him that it wasn't as bad as it looked or something. She'd probably tell him he was worrying too much, that she loved him and that she's sure his father did too and would do everything he could to make it comfortable. She'd be able to fix this, even if just with reassurances.

He found her number and pressed dial.

Nothing happened.

His phone didn't connect to anything. No service, no internet. He couldn't call her.

Maybe his room was just too far away from the router?

He got up, walking towards the door, his eyes still fixed on the screen. He paused before slowly opening it, peering out to see the hallway was empty. He opened the door fully and walked out, still looking at his phone, waiting for a symbol to appear, showing it had connected to something. He walked all the way down the corridor without anything connecting.

He eyed the door to the main room. The three people he'd met would probably be in there. He wasn't sure he wanted them to know he was trying to call Inko.

He backtracked to the window overlooking the lower room. He couldn't see anyone, but he knew some of the room wouldn't be visible through there, with how the upstairs hung over everything. Was it worth heading downstairs? Maybe he could just go partway down the stairs and see if there was anyone there? But, no, there was a door at the top of the stairs, and what if there was someone down there and they heard him opening it?

A toilet flushed somewhere behind him and he jumped, turning to look at the door Kurogiri had said led to the bathroom. It opened and Tomura stood there. He paused as he saw Izuku, his eyes going straight to the All Might hoodie and he snarled.

Izuku slowly backed towards his room and Tomura looked somehow vindicated by his retreat.

Back in his room, Izuku reluctantly started unpacking. Clothes hung up in the cupboard, notebooks and figurines placed carefully up on the shelves. He considered for a moment, then hung his All Might hoodie up on the hooks by the door, picking a plain black one and putting that on instead. He didn't like the idea of ditching an item that brought him comfort, but Tomura didn't seem to like it, so maybe this would make him act friendlier? Izuku had no idea, but he was willing to try, if only to have one less thing to worry about.

He picked his Quirk Shift notebook out from the bottom of the suitcase and hesitated. He was here to practise his quirk, of course, but having it out in the open with the rest of his notebooks felt wrong, after years of Inko hiding it away.

He looked at the bookshelf for a moment, then put it in one of his wardrobe’s draws. That worked. Easily grabbed, but out of sight.

Someone knocked at the door.

Izuku took a deep breath before saying the first words he had since leaving Inko. “Come in.”

Kurogiri pushed the door open. Izuku wished he had more than just those yellow eyes to try to figure out his expression from as he peered down at him. “Do you have a preference for food or anything in particular you want for lunch?”

He thought for a moment. “Could, uh… Would katsudon be okay?”

Kurogiri nodded. “That should be fine. I believe Tomura is downstairs if you wish to familiarise yourself with him.”

“Oh, right.” Izuku had no idea whether doing that was a good idea or not. “Is, uh, is my father around?”

“He left.”

“Oh. When's he coming back?”

Kurogiri considered for a moment. “His visits can be somewhat erratic, and I'm unsure of how your introduction might influence them. If you wish to see him, I can pass on a message.”

“He doesn't live here?”

“He doesn't. Only myself, Tomura and now you live here.”

This really wasn't turning out like Izuku had expected it to. When he'd been told he was going to be living with his father he had, naturally, assumed that meant actually living with his father, not his… his… he still had no idea what Kurogiri and Tomura actually were to his father. Friends? Family? Kurogiri seemed to act more like a butler than anything, but that couldn't be right, could it?

Would it be rude to ask that? Maybe they assumed he already knew what was going on here. None of them had offered anything in the way of explanation, after all. Maybe he should just ask.

“Would you like me to call for you when food is prepared? It is no issue if you wish to eat on your own schedule instead.”

Kurogiri seemed nice, and, if eating when food was prepared means the three living in that house — building? It didn't seem to be set out like a house — eating together, then that might be easier than trying to talk to Tomura alone. Maybe he'd be less aggressive with both Kurogiri and food there. “Yeah, could you, please?”

“Of course.” Kurogiri paused in the door, waiting in case Izuku had anything else to ask. He did. He had far, far too much to ask, enough that he couldn't quite figure out how to actually ask any of it when it was all so tangled in his brain. Kurogiri took his silence as an end to the conversation and gave a small bow, leaving Izuku alone.

Izuku went back to staring at his notebooks, all neatly lined up on the shelf. He picked one up, flipped to the blank pages and started writing about Kurogiri and his quirk, what he'd seen so far, to take his mind off things.

A warp gate or portal quirk was interesting. Teleportation quirks were pretty uncommon, especially ones that allowed for multiple people to be teleported at once, which, he assumed, Kurogiri could do from his quirk’s portal-like appearance, though he'd still need to check to be sure about that. Most of what he wrote were just guesses, assumptions, but there was a familiarity to the writing, to the thought process. It was one he'd gone through a hundred times with different heroes.

Kurogiri appeared in the doorway to tell him lunch was ready, and he headed down, his notebook tucked under his arm and pen in hand.

The three sat down around the small dining table, pushed up against the wall in the large room downstairs. Kurogiri politely waited for Izuku to choose his seat before presenting him with his food and sitting down beside him. Tomura didn't. He sat cross-legged in his seat, holding a handheld gaming console, pausing his game every few moments to take a bite of his food, his focus clearly more on the game than eating. Kurogiri didn't seem overly surprised by this.

Izuku put his notebook on the table next to his plate and ate. It was good. Really good. He hadn't actually expected that, somehow. Everything had been so strange so far that the idea of an actually delicious, home cooked meal hadn't been something he'd thought he'd get. He ate his way through half the bowl before his eyes fell on the notebook and he glanced up at Kurogiri.

Watching Kurogiri eat was a little strange. He raised a bite of food and it disappeared into the mist of his head, then, when he lowered his hand, the food was gone. Izuku had questions about that. Did he have a solid face under there and was eating the food as normal, or did the mist somehow dissolve the food and that was how he ate? The brace suggested he probably did have a solid body. Did being at least partially made of mist impact what he needed to eat? Did he need to eat something that could provide the chemicals needed to make the mist, or was it just one of those quirk things that didn't have a clear scientific explanation? What was the mist made out of?

“Shut the fuck up.” Tomura snapped.

Izuku looked up to see Tomura glaring at him. Well, occasionally looking up to glare at him. His focus still seemed to mostly be on whatever game he was playing.

Izuku realised he'd been muttering again and shrunk back into his seat a little.

Kurogiri spoke next, his tone gentle. “To answer your questions, I do have a physical body, as you guessed. My quirk doesn't give me any specific dietary requirements, I am able to eat anything most people can, excluding allergies and intolerances. The chemical make up of my mist has been tested, though results were inconclusive as the only mist that can be truly separated from myself is that which makes my warp gates.”

Izuku nodded along, then grabbed the notebook from the table and started adding that to the page on Kurogiri. He finished adding that and smiled up at Kurogiri. “Can I ask you about your quirk?”

Kurogiri nodded and Izuku beamed. Tomura scoffed.

“How do you determine where your warp gates go? Is it coordinate based or maybe a visualisation thing? Do you have to have been there? Can you only create them around yourself, or could you warp someone who wasn't near you somewhere else away from you? How many can you open at once? Is there a limit on how many people can go through or how long they can stay open? Oh, is there a limit in their size? Do you have to be circular or can you change the shape? Can you—”

Kurogiri held up a hand. “You may need to give me time to answer each question in turn, though I appreciate your enthusiasm. Would you like me to give you an overview of my quirk, perhaps, before asking more detailed questions?”

Izuku nodded and Kurogiri began to explain his quirk. When Izuku had questions, he answered them as best he could while Izuku scribbled the answers in his notebook. Tomura rolled his eyes at the exchange, finishing his own food quickly and retreating to the corner of the room set up with all kinds of screens and games.

Kurogiri paused Izuku every now and again to remind him he should finish his food before it went cold, but continued answering so long as Izuku remembered to take bites between his questions. He was also happy to sit still while Izuku did a quick sketch on him on his page — he could always add the details later.

Once Izuku ran out of questions, Kurogiri presented him with a small slip of paper. On it was a series of random numbers and letters.

“The WiFi password.” Kurogiri explained. “I apologise for forgetting to give it to you earlier. I imagine you have a lot to talk about with your mother.”

Izuku smiled and thanked him. He offered to help wash up, but Kurogiri refused, saying it was his first day there and he should be focused on settling in.

He went back to his room, then sat and finished the drawing of Kurogiri as he talked to Inko. She seemed as surprised as him by the living arrangements, but said she'd heard about Kurogiri from his father previously, even if she'd never met him. She was sure it was fine, even if things were a little strange, and Kurogiri did sound nice, Tomura would also probably just need some time to adjust and get used to having Izuku around. Everything would sort itself out in time.

Even if he'd talked to her only a few hours ago, he wanted the familiarity of her there with him, so they stayed on the phone for most of the afternoon, talking about everything and nothing.

Tomura didn't really talk to him during dinner either. He did sit down with Izuku and Kurogiri in the small lounge area in the middle of the downstairs room, but seemed to purposefully sit as far away from Izuku as possible. One of the sofas faced the TV, the other was at a right angle to it. Izuku sat facing the TV, and Tomura took the furthest seat on the other sofa.

Kurogiri let Izuku choose what they watched, and he found that the latest episode of a show he'd watched with Inko was playing, so put that on. Kurogiri wasn't familiar with it, so Izuku quietly explained it as they watched.

Tomura only looked up from his game every few minutes to make some comment about how the plot was awful, or how this character sucked, or how Izuku needed to shut up because he couldn't focus on his game with all the incessant chattering. Kurogiri gave him a stern look for that one and he glared at Izuku one last time before returning to his game.

When the show finished, the evening news came on. Apparently All Might had been involved in a fight that day and Izuku watched the footage with a starry eyed delight, planning on looking for better footage later so he could analyse it.

Tomura reacted to All Might suddenly appearing on the screen like a distressed cat. He made a sort of angry hissing sound and seemed to puff himself up a little, glaring at the screen more than he had at Izuku the whole day. When the footage showed All Might taking a hit, he grinned, then frowned as it didn't seem to actually affect him at all. When All Might inevitably won, he muttered something darkly and went back to his game with far more intensity than he'd had before.

Izuku had no idea what he was supposed to think about any of that.

But Izuku did discover what Tomura’s quirk was during that meal. He'd already noticed the way he always kept his pinky fingers held up when he played his games or touched anything. A five point activation quirk seemed likely, but he didn't have any idea what it could be until Tomura dropped his plate.

He'd been focused on his game, staring at it and moving his fingers with impressive speed when his elbow knocked the edge of the plate where it rested in his lap and it started to tip. Tomura clearly noticed as he let go of his game with one hand, going to grab the plate before it hit the floor.

His hand wrapped around it, all five fingers touching it. The plate turned grey, then dissolved into dust.

Tomura swore.

Kurogiri put his own plate down on the coffee table and went to get a dustpan and brush. He swept up the remains of the plate and threw it away before collecting Tomura’s cutlery from the floor and putting them by the kitchen sink.

After dinner, Izuku called his mum again, just to hear her voice. They talked about the episode, about where they were hoping the show would go next, and about the dinner. Inko offered to text Izuku the recipes for his favourite meals so Kurogiri could make them and he happily agreed. He missed Inko’s cooking already. They talked and talked and talked.

Izuku said goodnight and hung up at a reasonable hour, but spent several more hours adding a drawing of Tomura to the page after Kurogiri's and writing down what he knew and could guess about his quirk. He then grabbed one of his other notebooks and watched the fight All Might had taken part in that day, adding more to the many pages of notes he already had on him.

He fell asleep late. In a bed that wasn't his own, in a room without a window.

***

He woke up late the next day. Kurogiri greeted him as he left his room, asking if he slept well. Izuku said he did and it wasn't a complete lie. He had slept okay and the bed was very comfortable, even if it had taken a long time to actually get relaxed enough to try and sleep.

Tomura didn't seem to be around. Or, at least, Izuku couldn't see him anywhere. The large room didn't give many places to hide, so unless he was up in his room, he wasn't there. He didn't show up at any point while Izuku ate breakfast and there was no noise coming from his room when Izuku passed it. When he asked Kurogiri, he was told that Tomura was training today.

Izuku spent the morning looking around more, getting used to the place. There weren't many rooms, and the only ones he hadn't seen so far were Kurogiri and Tomura’s bedrooms, but he hadn't really looked around, more focused on the people than the place.

The kitchen seemed well stocked and, when he looked through the cupboards and the fridge, he found that a few foods he'd told Kurogiri he liked had already made their way there. He smiled at that, grabbing his favourite drink and taking it with him as he walked.

The lounge area seemed pretty simple, nothing he hadn't noticed before, just a couple of sofas, a coffee table and the TV. He had a quick look around and realised the drawer on the TV stand contains blankets and cushions, stored out of sight for some reason.

One corner had a few shelves which he looked through. He was a little surprised to find a few small items of exercise equipment there, in addition to those already laid out. They were all clean, not a speck of dust on them, so clearly someone was using them. He pulled a box out from one of the lower shelves and was surprised for a moment to find it full of weapons. He took a moment to think and decided they must be fake or props. Maybe Tomura likes pretending to be the characters from his games or something — like cosplay, or roleplaying. He didn't touch them anyway. Just in case.

The next corner was full of screens. There was a desk set up with three monitors and a very expensive looking computer that Izuku decided not to touch. He guessed it was Tomura’s and he wasn't sure how he'd react to Izuku touching his things. Still, he took a moment to look over the computer. It was definitely better than anything he'd used before — better than the old computer Inko had at home and the computers at his school — all sleek and high tech.

Next to the desk was a TV bigger than the one in the lounge area of the room, though it seemed to be set up just for games, judging by the numerous consoles plugged into it. The cabinet next to it turned out to just be full of more games and equipment for them. Izuku had no idea how much the whole collection must be worth but he guessed it was more than the entire contents of his little room upstairs.

He gave the bathroom a quick look over. It was pretty small and he'd been in there already so he didn't expect to find much. But, when he opened the cupboard under the sink, he discovered medicines and first aid supplies. That wasn't unusual, it was a normal place to keep those things, but there was so much of it. There were bottles for medicines Izuku didn't recognise the names of, the labels handwritten rather than anything printed. There were needles and thread in there for stitches, boxes of gauze piled up, some pieces of equipment he'd never seen outside of a doctor's office and didn't know the use of. Far more than a household of three should need.

He didn't peek into Kurogiri or Tomura’s bedrooms, not then. He didn't so much as look at those doors until he came to a realisation.

There wasn't a front door.

He'd looked around most of the building, and there weren't any windows except the one in the upstairs hallway that looked over the lower floor. The only doors he'd seen were the ones into the bedrooms and bathroom. There was no door on the lower floor that might lead outside, none upstairs unless getting outside meant going through Kurogiri or Tomura’s bedrooms, and who would set a building out like that?

Then again, who would set a building out to not have any windows or doors leading out?

He goes around the downstairs room again, this time looking at the walls. No doors, no windows, not even any areas where it looks like there used to be one that got bricked up. The upstairs hallway didn't show any signs of bricked up areas either.

He checked that Kurogiri was still downstairs, then poked his head into his room. Kurogiri's room was blank. Walls unpainted stone and nothing in there but a bed, a few shelves under it that seemed to only hold identical copies of the same clothes Kurogiri wore now. There wasn't even a bedside table, just a single, neatly made bed. No doors or windows.

He collected himself before peeking into Tomura’s room next. The place was a mess, clothes over the floor and the bed unmade. There was another desk with a computer in there and a wardrobe that was left open, vomiting clothes onto the floor. No doors or windows. He backed out of there quickly.

In the entire building, there wasn't a single route that led outside. Not even the bricked up remnants of one.

The only way in or out was through Kurogiri's warp gates, it seemed. Not unless he wanted to break his way through a wall.

Who the hell created a building like that? With no entrance or exit? Had his father built this place like this or just bought it from someone else who somehow thought this was a good idea? Why would he have the three of them living here?

Where actually was “here”? No one had even told Izuku what city this building was in, if it even was in a city. There was no skyline to guess by, no obvious signs of his location. He tried to check the GPS on his phone but it wouldn't connect. He was connected to the internet, but his location wouldn't load.

He went back to his room and started writing down everything strange he'd seen in the back of one of his notebooks, hoping it would help him put it together.

• No doors or windows — built like that. Kurogiri's quirk is the only way out. Was it built with him in mind?

• Strange set up for a house — the downstairs room seemed far too big

• The GPS on my phone isn't working — why not? Where actually is this place?

• My father's appearance with that strange mask. Why would that be necessary?

• Kurogiri seems to act almost like a butler, or like a servant or something — just kindness or something else?

• Tomura’s training

• Tomura’s apparent hatred of All Might

• Tomura’s dislike of me

• Kurogiri's empty room — why doesn't he have any stuff?

• Expensive stuff — is my father rich? Mum never mentioned that before, though he did own that country house

• My father not living here — aren't I supposed to be living with him? Isn't he supposed to be here to teach me?

• Tomura and Kurogiri living here. Who are they to my father? Why was I sent to live with them rather than him?

• The box of fake weapons. Why do they need those? As they cosplay props or just toys or something?

• The first aid supplies — why do they need so much? And why did some of it seem to be for serious injuries? Why would they need to get stitches at home?

He looked over his list, reading through it a few times and couldn't think of anything that made any sense, only more questions. He went through the list and reorganised it. One list of questions about Tomura and Kurogiri, one about the house, and one about his father. He had hoped the organisation, grouping things together like that, might have helped him come up with something but he still had nothing.

He sighed and put the notebook back on the shelf. He clearly wasn't going to get answers by staring at it, and maybe clearing his head of it would help him think.

He left his room, planning on getting another drink but paused as he passed the bathroom.

The light was on and the door slightly ajar. He could hear quiet swearing coming from inside and a hiss of pain.

He peered in and saw Tomura sat on the closed toilet lid. His shirt was on the floor next to him and his torso… there were bruises over his skin, a few cuts along his ribs and arms. They all looked fresh, a few of the cuts still seeping blood. The blood slowly dripped down onto the floor, red splashes against pale blue tiles.

He was treating one of the cuts on his upper arm. Slowly stitching it shut, but his hands were shaking. He swore as he clearly stuck the needle in the wrong place, pulling it back out and trying to hold his hands steady enough to keep going.

Izuku must have made a noise as he suddenly looked up, scowling as he saw Izuku watching him.

There was a moment of silence as they both stared at each other. Izuku glanced down at Tomura’s shaking hands, at the cut across his bicep. Deep and red.

“Are you… okay?” He winced a little as he asked. That was probably a stupid question. “Should I get Kurogiri?”

“I don't need Kurogiri.” Tomura growled at him, turning back to the stitches.

Izuku opened his mouth to insist, then paused. He'd hidden injuries from Inko. Every time Bakugo hurt him, he'd deal with it himself rather than getting her to help him. He didn't want her to worry, didn't want her to fret over what couldn't be fixed. So long as he was quirkless Deku it would keep happening, so why should she have to worry about it as well?

Maybe that's what Tomura was doing. Izuku didn't agree with it, but he also understood and he didn't want to make Tomura uncomfortable when he didn't like him already. And how much of a hypocrite would he be for revealing Tomura’s injuries when he had a history of hiding his own?

He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. “Can I help? I, uh, I won't tell Kurogiri if, if you don't want me to.”

“Why would you want to help?” Tomura almost sounded insulted by the idea, but Izuku pressed on.

“Because you look like you need it? I mean, uh, I'm not saying you can't deal with things yourself, just, that, well, it might be easier if I do it?”

Tomura’s eyes narrowed. “You expect me to believe you want to help me for no reason?”

“Uh… Yes?”

Tomura watched him for a moment, scanning him like he'd see something other than a young, normal looking boy looking back at him. Another drop of blood splashed onto the floor.

“Fine.”

Izuku blinked. He hadn't actually expected Tomura to agree.

Tomura still watched him closely as he approached, gently taking the needle from his hands. He didn't know how he was supposed to do stitches, but he could see the ones Tomura had already done. They looked a little wonky, but they at least showed him the basics of what he was supposed to do. And Inko had taught him to sew — though that was fabric, not skin.

He took a deep breath then pushed the needle through Tomura’s skin. Tomura didn't seem to react to it, just watching Izuku’s face and hands.

“Uh, how do I tie it off?” There was probably some specific knot you were supposed to use for this, right? The closest he knew about was what he'd learnt when sewing but he was guessing it was different when you were sewing flesh rather than fabric.

Tomura’s brow furrowed. “The normal way?”

That didn't help. “What's the normal way?”

Tomura looked at him like he was an idiot. “Just the normal way you tie a stitch.”

“I… don't know what that is.”

“How do you not know what that is? It's stitches.”

“I've never had to do stitches before.” Tomura stared at him in confusion. Izuku was suddenly struck with the thought that this is the longest conversation the two of them have actually had. “Could you tell me how to do it?”

Tomura looked at him like he was an idiot again but did guide him through it. His explanation was a little disjointed and hard to follow, but Izuku managed it — though that was mostly by guessing at what he thought Tomura meant and seeing if Tomura thought he was doing something stupid again.

He finished the stitches on Tomura’s arm and took a breath, leaning back a little. He asked if any of the other cuts needed stitches, and Tomura reluctantly directed him to one on his back, saying he should check it. He had to ask how to tell if it needed stitches or not and, after Tomura’s annoyed explanation, decided it didn't.

“Why are you here?” Tomura spoke up as Izuku collected the gauze from the cupboard, neatly packing the needle and thread away.

“You needed help?” He thought he'd already explained that, though Tomura hadn't seemed to believe him. Maybe he just needed to hear it again.

“No. Why are you here? Why are you living here now?” He was using that tone like he thought Izuku was being dumb again.

“Oh! Uh, well, my mum said my father could help me learn to control my quirk.” That wasn’t a secret from Tomura, right? Inko might have kept it all very hidden, but his father had left him with Tomura so it must be okay to tell him.

He turned to look at Tomura, now holding the gauze and starts picking through it to find something the right size. “I, um, I have a telekinetic quirk, but sometimes I, sometimes it does things without me really… trying to use it. So mum sent me here, to, uh, to practise.”

He started putting the gauze over the cut on Tomura’s back, carefully tapping it in place with practised hands — this part he knew how to do — when Tomura spoke again. “‘Your father’ is training you.”

Izuku paused. Tomura’s tone was strange. Harsh but quiet, and he put a weird emphasis on it being his father. There was something almost bitter in his voice, something cold and… hurt, maybe?

He took some more tape and placed it over the gauze.

“You know I'm not… You know I'm not trying to replace you, right?” He moved to treat one of the wounds on Tomura’s chest, taking the chance to glance up at his face. “I don't know what's going on with you and my father, but… I'm not trying to take your place or, I don't know, stop him paying attention to you. Or anything like that.”

Tomura scoffed.

“I'm not. I mean, I don't actually… know him that well? He, he only visited occasionally, maybe every few months at most, sometimes only every few years, and never for long. I don't really… know much about him, actually. You probably know him better than I do.”

That actually seemed to get Tomura thinking. He watched Izuku as he backed away, the wounds were all dealt with, but he wasn’t going to put everything away just yet. The two sat in silence for a moment as Tomura seemed to consider everything.

“You're an idiot.”

Izuku didn't have a response to that. Nor was it a surprise Tomura thought that.

Tomura scoffed again and grabbed his shirt from the floor, pulling it on. He gave Izuku one last look then left, leaving the door open behind him.

Izuku stayed kneeling on the floor for a moment, then remembered the first aid supplies and started putting those away, then cleaned up the spots of blood from the floor. There already seemed to be cleaning supplies in there, including, Izuku noticed, hydrogen peroxide.

He wasn't sure if what had just happened was progress or not, but he had managed to hold a conversation with Tomura. That was good, right?

And he had a few more things to add to his lists of weird things going on.

• Tomura’s injuries — where did he get all those cuts and bruises? Was it from the training Kurogiri said he was doing? Why not have Kurogiri treat them? Why didn't they seem to bother him?

• Tomura knows how to do stitches and seemed to think it was a normal skill to have?

• Tomura getting jealous (?) — is my father like a father figure to him?

***

Izuku got woken up the next day by something hitting him on the head.

He shot upright, looking around for what had hit him. Tomura was standing in the door to his room, and there was a controller on the ground by Izuku’s bed. He rubbed his head and picked up the controller, looking over at Tomura.

“We're playing a game.” Tomura announced, no room in his tone for a refusal, so Izuku just nodded.

“What game?”

“Heroes Vs Villains: Quirk Showdown.”

Izuku knew the game and nodded, getting out of bed. Tomura seemed pleased by this and kept standing by the door, so Izuku followed him downstairs in his pyjamas.

The game was simple enough. One hero team, one villain team. Each team picks four characters to play, once one gets knocked out, you switch to the next until one team is completely down. He'd bought it when it came out and played it a few times with Inko, but not for quite a while.

He hadn't played the game in a while for the same reasons it hadn't done very well. For one, no one wanted to play as the villain team, and, two, if you did get suckered into playing as the villains, the person playing the heroes could just pick All Might as their starter and basically just one shot their way through your entire team. Realistic power levels for each character were not so good for actually playing when one was significantly stronger than all the others.

Given all of that, he assumed that, when he sat down with Tomura in front of the large TV in the corner, Tomura would immediately pick the heroes team. He probably wanted to wipe the floor with Izuku. After all, he still didn't seem to like him much. But, no, Tomura had chosen the villains before Izuku even sat down.

It changed to the character selection screen and Izuku paused to think. He could put All Might as his first and win like that, but he was trying to be friends with Tomura, or at least not be hated by him. Tomura seemed to really care about his games, so maybe completely destroying him would be unfair.

He picked Hawks, Best Jeanist, Miruko, then All Might as his last character. While he might not want to beat Tomura too badly, he also didn't want to leave All Might out of his team.

Tomura looked over his choices then went through and picked out his team.

The game had barely finished loading before Hawks went down.

Oh, well, maybe Izuku hadn't quite been paying as much attention as he should have. He was still thinking more about Tomura’s choices and the fact they were playing together at all than about the actual game. He must have just not reacted quickly enough.

Best Jeanist appeared with his little animation. Izuku used one of his capture attacks but Tomura just dodged and charges right up to him. It barely lasted another second before Jeanist went down too.

Izuku supposed that wasn't unexpected. Best Jeanist took a lot more finesse than some of the other characters and it had been a long while since he'd played. Maybe he should have started out with some power type heroes instead so he stood more of a chance, but that's alright.

But then Miruko went down just as quickly.

All Might appeared on screen with his catchphrase and Tomura gripped his controller tighter. Izuku supposed it might be alright if he just one shots Tomura’s characters now. He has already taken three of his out, so he couldn't hold that against him, right?

Izuku did not one shot Tomura’s character. He tried to, only to have Tomura get behind him and bombard him with attacks. He couldn't actually get a hit on him before All Might went down.

“Villains Win!”

Tomura laughed. Izuku blinked at the screen in confusion.

“Sucks to suck!”

Izuku looked at Tomura, grinning down at him with glee.

“Rematch?”

The rematch did not go better for him. Nor did the game after that.

A few games in, Izuku started watching Tomura’s hands more than the screen, trying to see what buttons he was pressing. It turned out that Tomura was able to press the buttons incredibly fast, especially for someone who couldn't touch the controller with all five fingers. He started to realise that it's less that he was out of practice and more that Tomura was just insanely good at this.

A few more games in and Tomura started giving him advice. When Izuku smiled at him, he just said he didn't want to be stuck playing his local multiplayer games with someone who sucks. Izuku grinned wider at the idea that Tomura wanted to play more games with him.

Even with the advice, he still didn't win. Tomura seemed to really enjoy his victories, laughing and grinning each time one of Izuku’s heroes went down.

Kurogiri approached them to remind Izuku he hadn't had any breakfast. When it becomes clear Izuku wants to keep playing, he simply hands him a granola bar so he at least has something to eat. He gave Tomura one as well and they both quickly ate them before starting another round.

Izuku managed to take one of Tomura’s villains down and did a little happy dance to celebrate, only for Tomura to take the distraction to knock his last hero out. Izuku just laughed as Tomura said something smug about it.

Maybe this was okay.

Things were weird and didn't make much sense, but Kurogiri was nice and Tomura did seem to be warming to him. There were still questions and he missed Inko, but Izuku thought he could be quite happy to live like this for a while. It wasn't too bad.

Right?

• Tomura’s dislike of me