Chapter Text
“Young Midoriya.” The skeletal man addresses. The two of them are in an office adjacent to the teachers lounge, a private space. The man’s mouth is pulled down, his hollowed out eyes and fragile figure only adding to the serious air he is giving off. “We need to discuss some things about One for All.”
Himiko, disguised as Izuku, blinks. “Yes?” Don’t panic, Himiko. This whole day has been good infiltration practice. It even has the Izuku stamp of approval! She’d been itching meet his school friends and see what it was like, even if she couldn’t go as herself. The only condition being she stay as far away from someone who ‘looked like a skinny, unhealthy All Might’. A shame Izuku couldn’t join her, but having two of him around would be mighty suspicious surrounded by heroes.
The skeletal man opposite Himiko tells a long tale of One for All and All for One, about a villain who can give and take quirks, about how his predecessors have all been hunted down by this villain. About how the skeletal man went up against All for One and thought he had defeated the villain, but that he is beginning to suspect that wasn’t the case.
“You must understand, my boy, I had thought I’d dealt with him for good. However there has been a recent incident that leads me to suspect that wasn’t the case, and I worry for the safety of you and your fellow classmates.”
See, if it were actually Izuku sitting across from All Might, he might have asked questions to subtly push the man in the direction of the drug known as Trigger, which (rather conveniently), is connected to another drug that can permanently destroy someone’s quirk and (also conveniently) was something Overhaul himself had been working on.
Perhaps he would have talked to the man about how there is a world full of different quirks, and surely there are similar quirks out there to the one a man developed two hundred years ago. He would have explained his theories and pulled out one of those horrible PowerPoint presentation of his that still makes Himiko (and the rest of the League) shudder.
Or maybe, being the terrible liar he is, he would have opted to throw himself out the third floor window rather than risk saying something like, “oh yeah he’s definitely alive. And I have his quirk. And he’s technically-not-technically my dad. It’s complicated.”
Really, it’s quite fortunate Himiko is here today instead. Not knowing quite what to do but reassured anyway, she nods along to All Might. If the one sided discussion about upping training regimes and spending more time focusing on mentoring and sending Izuku to go and train with someone who has experience with previous One for All holders is anything to go by, it doesn’t seem like her choice in action raised any suspicion.
(The only reason it doesn’t is because All Might never took the time to get to know enough about Izuku to be able to recognise when someone is definitely not him. Otherwise the ‘reassuring’ smile Himiko gives him would have given her away then and there.
Instead All Might makes a note to… teach young Midoriya to smile in a way that is less… happily murderous.)
Oh, when Himiko tells Izuku what happened he’s going to cry. She doesn’t like it when he cries. It’s much better when he bleeds, his blood is much prettier.
Izuku does, in fact, cry.
Just a little. A sob, really. He’s going to be getting even less sleep than usual now.
Shouta stares at the shelves of tea, Hizashi chattering next to him. One hand is clenched around the handle of his shopping basket, the other is hovering over a specific brand of loose leaf green tea. Hizashi pauses when he notices what he’s hovering over.
“Shouta, wasn’t that Oboro’s favouite-?” His husband remembers. Of course he remembers. They all remember (except the one person who doesn’t), clinging to everything they can of their lost friend.
And it’s silly of him, really. To be thinking about this so much, especially after so long. But Shouta has been going to the bar for coffee whenever he’s in the area, and he’s been taking more time to patrol the area, and there’s something-
There’s definitely something.
He puts the tea in the basket. A gift for his new (old?) friend.
Izuku takes one look at Gran Torino lying sprawled out on the floor, turns around, and goes back the way he came from. The action is very reminiscent of how Tomura left the USJ. All Might isn’t going to be happy with him, but then, what else is new?
“Young Midoriya.” All Might says. As predicted, he does not look happy. “I have been told you didn’t go to your training session with Gran Torino.”
“I didn’t.” Izuku agrees easily. Maybe now is the time for him to stand up, to straighten his posture into something powerful and commanding, throw on a perfectly pressed suit and tie and reveal to the number one hero his betrayal. Except, it isn’t really a betrayal. He isn’t some evil mastermind set on destroying the world.
He doesn’t even like wearing suits (much to his dad’s dismay, when five year old Izuku pulled off a miniature replica of his dad’s classic Villainous Overlord suit, threw it to the ground and kicked dirt all over it, the man had been in tears).
“Young Midoriya-” All Might starts to continue, and it is no doubt going to be a lecture. Another statement of how disappointed the hero is in him. Something has to give. Something should have given a long time ago.
“All Might.” Izuku cuts off. “Did you know that One for All isn’t a quirk that stockpiles strength, but one that stockpiles experiences and quirks?” No, of course he didn’t. The man looks baffled. “I’ve been spending my spare time learning how to use each of the other holder’s quirks, I’ve spent it training and learning, and I’ve been working on my physical body. Because the physical power aspect of the quirk will tear me apart piece by piece if I don’t prepare myself before using it.”
He demonstrates his words by using Float. Perhaps it’s cruel, to so blatantly use the seventh’s quirk in front of the eighth when there is undeniably a history between the two of them, something raw and ugly and shrouded in tragedy. But-
But Izuku is tired of this little dance.
He doesn’t leave the quirk activated for long, dropping back into his chair with ease. All Might looks even more sickly pale than before, like he has seen a ghost.
“My boy…” The number one hero starts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Izuku blinks at the man, a smile tugging at his lips. It’s a bitter thing, his smile. “It was never bought up.”
You’ve never asked me anything, is left unsaid, but Izuku thinks he gets the point across.
Something like recognition flickers in yellow pools as Kurogiri accepts the gift being handed to him. He takes the box from Shouta before setting it to the side on the bar counter with a; “thank you.”
They stay there in silence, Shouta sitting with (the best damn) coffee in his hands, and Kurogiri behind the bar. The air feels heavy with something unnamed, a tension that shouldn’t be there. A hesitance. Shouta is starting to think he has miscalculated, that he has been foolishly chasing ghosts and projected one onto his student’s villainous associate.
Then the warp user sighs, flickers.
“I used to know you from before, didn’t I?”
And there it is, that spark of hope. “I think so.” Shouta answers honestly, because despite everything there is still a shadow of doubt, and what if he ruins some poor amnesiac’s life by telling him he was someone he wasn’t? “You knew how to make my coffee exactly how I liked it in high school.” It feels silly, now that he is admitting it aloud, what his suspicions are based on.
“I have flickers of memories, sometimes.” Kurogiri explains. “Things seem familiar, you seem familiar. But I do not want to know who I once was. I am happy, now.”
Shouta blinks, something suspiciously wet in his eyes.
“Then that’s what matters most. You deserve to be happy.”
Izuku looks up from the papers in his hand (homework, because despite everything he does, in fact, go to school, and while Eraserhead sympathises with his group of villains and nightly activities, that doesn’t stop the man from giving him homework), looks back down at them, then looks back up again.
“Kurogiri.” He says slowly, calmly. White locks of hair that really needs cutting fall into illuminated eyes, intimidating. Internally, he’s trying his best not to squeal like the excited hero-fanboy he is. “Who let the Number Four pro hero Hawks into the bar.”
Before the warp user can answer, said Number Four ranked professional hero Hawks beats him to it.
“I followed that one.” He’s gesturing, with the casual air of someone who, if it came down to it, could take down most (if not all) of the League in a fight, to Dabi. Dabi who probably knew the pro hero was following him and just didn’t care. Of coure. The asshole. “And I’m here to join the League.”
Izuku sighs. A spy, then. Why the Commission would send one of the top ten heroes to spy on an, admittedly small (but with a two hundred year old supervillain providing the funding, so perhaps not so small), criminal organisation is beyond him. Especially a spy so obvious.
Oh well, it’s not like Hawks knows there’s a person in the room that can take his quirk. Even just using One for All Izuku is fairly certain he can be fast enough to get to the pro hero and take before anything too destructive happens in the bar.
Let the recruitment process begin.
“What made you decide to come to the League instead of the other villainous organisations out there?”
“...the healthcare?”
Bullshit. Their healthcare is a doctor with an unhealthy fondness for human experimentation. Most people who go to him come back with their brains exposed, or don’t come back at all.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?”
“Well, if I don’t figure something out soon, as a very roasted chicken.”
“And why is that?”
“I’ve been stealing Endeavours ice-cream for the past three months and he’s finally figured out it was me.”
On the couch nearby, both Dabi and Shoto crackle. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Tomura pulls ahead of the two in the game of Mario Kart running on the TV.
“How does Endeavour even eat ice-cream?”
“Exactly! He doesn’t, just let’s it melt and go to waste like a monster.”
“What do you see yourself achieving in life, and how does becoming part of the League tie in with it?”
“I’d like to see hero society crumble and villains take control of the world.”
Izuku sighs. The room stills. Kurogiri lets out a sound that’s suspiciously word-like, “oh god please no not again.”
“I’ll be right back.” He says to Hawks, ignoring the others. A minute later he returns from his room, setting up his trusty projector and powering it on.
(One long presentation about villainous stereotypes and the impact quirk discrimination has on the rise of criminal activity, a definitely failed job interview and the discovery of Endeavour’s missing son later, and Hawks is about ready to curl up into a ball and cry. Why did the Commission give him this job?
It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t tell anyone about the missing Todoroki boy, or about much of anything else really. The League is just a bunch of outcast kids, after all, there’s not much damage they can do.
Right?
Right??)
A day after his meeting with the kid at the League of Villains, Hawks gets a message.
Unknown Number: We regret to inform you that your application to join us has been rejected. If you are looking for alternatives, we recommend the Meta Liberation Army. They are full of corrupt government officials who would love to get their hands on a hero of your status.
Sincerely,
The League of Villains
The Meta Liberation Army, huh. Maybe he can look into that.
A small, quiet cafe. Two teens sitting at a booth in the corner. One white haired, milkshake in hand. The other, definitely-not-the-missing-Todoroki-boy-just-wearing-a-slightly-off-centre-black-wig with a cup of tea sitting to his right. The tea has long since cooled to his touch.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Definitely-not-Shoto-in-a-wig nods. “I do.”
“And you know that it’ll be out there now, right? There’s no going back.”
“Izuku.” Definitely-not-Shoto-in-a-wig says, voice fond. “I know.” He puts his hands over Izuku’s, pulling them away from his drink and holding them gently. “You don’t have to worry. No matter how things go, you’ve already saved me.”
“Okay then.” Izuku says, a wry smile spreading across his face. “I’ll let dad’s technology guy know we’re ready.”
(Yes, All for One has a technology guy. Always keeping up with two hundred years worth of technological advancements is very important for the supervillain. Even if he doesn’t understand how to use the comment section on HeroTube.)
“Holy shit have you seen the news?”
“That has to be fake, right?”
“Nah, it doesn’t look like it. That shit, it’s-”
“-it’s being taken down, but keeps on coming back up-”
“Why would it be taken down if they weren’t trying to cover something up?”
“Still… for a hero to do something like that… it’s-”
“-it’s not that surprisingly, really. My ma’s first husband was a hero, and she barely got out alive. Tried to take ‘im to court after and everything. There was plenty of proof.”
“And they didn’t hold him accountable?”
“Nah, heroes can get away with a lot these days.”
Shouta stares at the article on his phone. His apartment is oddly quiet, especially given that his husband is there with him. The TV is on, an especially brave news anchor reporting on the contents he himself is going over.
It’s evidence. Notes and observations and journal entries dating back since before the school year had begun, and even some during. All of it well documented, damning. But nothing quite more condemning than the photos. Burns and bruises, some dating back two, three years. He suspects that it has been going on much longer then that.
No, he knows it has been.
“Shouta.” His husband sounds calm. Too calm. The man is as angry as Shouta himself feels. “For the sake of Endeavour’s ears and fucking brain, please tell me none of this is real.”
And Shouta can’t reassure Hizashi, can’t lie to him. Not when there is so much else he hasn’t been telling his husband these days. Not when it involves one of his student’s and the horrific domestic violence revealed to the world.
“It’s real.”
People talk, news spreads. Victims come out of the woodwork to share their own experiences. Hesitant at first, but once it becomes obvious that people are listening, more and more take a step forward.
It makes it harder to trust heroes, plants seeds of doubt around every corner. Endeavour keeps his spot as the Number Two hero despite it all, though he is often even more aggressive, quick to anger. It does not help his reputation. The fragile trust the man has gained from people over the years lessens and lessens.
Any chance Endeavour has in being the Number One hero, in living up to something so bright and shining as the Symbol of Peace, is crushed. Because even when All Might retires and the man is officially dubbed Number One, all civilians will see is the face of a man who hurts his family behind closed doors.
(Though there will still be those who look at him in awe, in wonder. Those who justify what the man did as a part of the greater good. All it will do is create more divide.)
Still, Endeavour continues heroics despite everything. He declines questioning, especially in regards to his search for his missing son, and more and more people are beginning to look closer at Todoroki Shoto’s case, and that means more people are beginning to think he wasn’t taken, that he ran away.
Not that it matters. The League will keep Shoto safe, safe until the storm has settled and they are ready to enact phase two of project Take Endeavour Down and Probably Destroy Hero Society in The Process.
For the time being, Shoto allows himself to relax, head in Izuku’s lap as his friend drags gentle, ungloved fingers through his hair. The motion soothing enough that he beings to drift off.
Here, he is safe here.
“I’m jealous.” Himiko pouts.
Dabi rolls his eyes at her.
Izuku looks up at the two of them. “There’s enough room for you to squeeze in next to me.” He pats the empty space on the couch with his free hand. “Just be quiet and try not to wake up Shoto, please. He’s had a long week.”
Himiko beams, quietly bouncing up to Izuku. She sits down next to him, and he wraps his spare arm around her, careful not to jostle the boy in his lap. She snuggles up into his side. A whisper into his ear.
“You’re the best, Izu.”
It is not long after that both Himiko and Izuku join Shoto in the wonderful world of sleep.
It is not the first time he has seen them, the ones that came before him. The ones that were never taken out of their tanks.
The failures.
He has seen them before, but never before has he been awake enough to really notice them. Never before has be been aware enough that there is something so very wrong. The way their limbs are tangled and disfigured, pieces missing and misplaced. All bare a resemblance to him, white hair and pale skin, apart from the ones who either don’t have skin or hair.
They are the closest anything can ever come to being like him, but even then they are not. They never will be.
They are empty shells, fragile beings with decaying forms. Twisted and ugly and hollow. Izuku is more like them than he is other people, and he wonders if that makes him not a person at all. But even they will never have the chance to be like Izuku.
Izuku is the only Izuku.
“We were about to give up on this project,” the man in the suit explains, “but then, against all odds, you stabilised. I wonder… what makes you so different from the rest?”
U.A. doesn’t normally do parent-teacher meetings on a grand scale.
U.A. doesn’t normally have to deal with the media fallback of it having a domestic violence incident involving one of their top first years seemingly go unnoticed, and without action. These two facts are connected, though no one will outright admit it. Nezu is scrambling to prevent any more backlash before it has the chance to occur.
What the scoop-hungry minds of the media don’t seem to realise is that, up until the information leak, going up against Endeavour seemed impossible. That in most cases of domestic violence, U.A. handles them with professionalism, the resources to make sure their students are safe. And on the occasion they aren’t able to something, often the perpetrators are confronted by a shady figure and a baseball bat these days anyway.
It still is impossible, to go up against the number two hero, for the most part. Shouta has a sneaking suspicion it won’t be like that for long.
He also has a suspicion that the next few weeks of overtime are going to be an absolute nightmare.
“Parent teacher meetings are coming up.”
“Well then,” All for One, back in his prime with a full set of hair and healthy, smooth skin, says, “we can’t disappoint that home room teacher of yours, now can we? I’ve been eager to meet him.”
He’s reacting exactly as Izuku predicted. That crosses out asking if Kurogiri or even Garaki can go instead. Time to compromise. Also you look like you’re in your late twenties and that might raise some questions, Izuku thinks. Knowing his dad won’t listen, he says; “you’re wearing a wig. And don’t go looking for All Might to torment.”
“Very well.” His dad agrees easily enough.
His dad is smiling now. This doesn’t bode well.
Oh well, Eraserhead was the one who said the meetings were mandatory, knowing full well he had a student with a two hundred year old supervillain for a parent. Really, it’s on the underground hero at that point.
Yagi sees the coverage of the leaked documents, and he seethes. He is angry at his fellow hero, a righteous fury only the absolute scummiest of villains have the unfortunate privilege to encounter. To think that the other hero would do something like that to his own family. That is not a hero.
But he is also angry at the fool who put all of that condemning, calculated evidence out for the world to see. The person behind this is a villain, he is sure of it. A villain with a dastardly motive and the resources to back it up. Taking advantage of a horrific situation to further their own goals.
The seeds of distrust planted, in a world where people should believe in heroes.
Scales have been tipped, public faith in the inherent goodness of heroes is being questioned at every turn. Crime has yet to increase more than it already had been, but where once people were stopped by trust in the system, that things would work out okay, they are now stopping in fear. Yagi can see it.
(What Yagi doesn’t realise is that people have always stopped in fear. They just aren’t hiding it as well anymore now that their fears have been proven logical. If a hero of such high status as Endeavour can get away with doing that to his family, then what could he do to a petty criminal or shop lifter?)
And while he is angry at Endeavour, furious and disgusted, he knows why the man was able to get away with it. Why he still needs to be able to get away with it. He is the second most powerful hero in the country, they cannot afford to lose such a powerful hero simply because he has hit his child.
Especially not when Yagi is so close to reaching his limit for good. Society cannot afford to lose its two most powerful heroes at the same time.
The balance of power would shift, society would tip and change and no one would be safe. Not when All for One is still out there somewhere.
He pushes those thoughts aside, along with the fear that rises up with it. For now, he is going to work on his successor. He is going to make as much of an effort as he can to make the boy a hero.
And, if the parent-teacher meetings are anything to go by, he’s soon going to meet the boy’s parents. He promises himself he will take the chance to get to know young Midoriya better.
Izuku pats the curly green wig that sits atop his dad’s head, nodding to himself. He pulls away, walking around the man and taking in the slightly-too-tight hoodie the man wears (it was the baggiest Izuku had, in these desperate times), the tracksuit pants, and the red running sneakers.
The great and mighty All for One certainly looks uncomfortable in casual clothes.
And, more importantly, he hopefully looks unrecognisable from a distance should any stray All Mights catch a glimpse of him.
“Alright, you’re ready.”
“I look hideous.”
“You look like me. This was a very last minute idea and it was either that, or the crop-top Dabi offered you.”
“…”
(Garaki thinks All for One would look rather nice in a crop-top, but he dares not say it aloud.)
Shouta takes one look at problem child’s father, one Midoriya Hisashi, and concludes that yes, this is an ancient supervillain with the full capability to destroy society as he knows it, probably with the just one wave of his hand.
There’s just something in the way he looks at Shouta with sharp red eyes that has the underground hero’s brain screaming runrunrunfuckingrun, even with the young girl he has sitting on his lap, silent but wide-eyed and in awe.
A hacking sound comes from next to Shouta. He turns to see Yagi coughing up blood (not a particularly unusual occurrence). The absolute terror on the number one hero’s face is new, though. It’s not often one witnesses All Might in a moment of fear.
He told the man not to worry about joining in with the meetings, that they only needed to be done with the students’ homeroom teacher. This’ll teach Yagi about being nosy, and not even bothering to bring a coffee offering with him.
(Shouta could really use some coffee right now. He wonders if Kurogiri would warp him one if he messaged. He probably would, the great friend that he is.)
The problem child looks like he’s trying to hide how startled he is by the presence of All Might, as though the strategist of a criminal organisation didn’t take into consideration the possibility that his hero mentor might want to meet his father.
Knowing how poor of a teacher Yagi is through weeks of working with the man, it doesn’t particularly surprise Shouta that that is the case.
There is a tense moment where Shouta realises that Yagi looks about to buff up and go PLUS ULTRA! on the Problem Child’s father’s face. The action is stopped when Midoriya Hisashi holds out his hand to Shouta.
Shouta, knowing full well how All for One takes quirks, accepts the handshake in a (probably foolish, but he’s too tired for this shit) sign of trust. He’s fairly sure Midoriya’s father doesn’t intend to take his quirk.
Mostly.
Hopefully.
...probably.
“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, I’ve heard many good things from my son about his homeroom teacher. I’m Midoriya Hisashi, and this is my lovely granddaughter Eri.”
“Aizawa Shouta.” Short. Abrupt. Tired. By the end of the handshake, it doesn’t feel like his quirk has been taken. That’s good. Shouta nods towards a horrified All Might. “This is my co-worker and fellow teacher, Yagi.” A pause. Then he adds; “he’s new.”
The supervillain’s lip tips upwards in amusement. He’s making a good first impression (by throwing Yagi under the bus), good. The problem child looks torn between wanting to laugh and cry.
“I do apologise for my state of dress.” The supervillain says, and politely, sincerely apologetic at that. “Someone insisted I go without my usual suit and tie.” He gives the problem child a pointed look, probably to say; “see? It was pointless trying to make me less identifiable from a distance when All Might has ended up sitting right across from us”.
Midoriya puts his head in his hands as Yagi falls victim to another coughing fit. Now the supervillain in the room just looks smug. Shouta is becoming more and more tempted to send Kurogiri a message. The warp could bring some much needed coffee, possibly even some alcohol, and maybe even advice on how to reign in his boss before a city-leveling fight breaks out.
“It’s fine.” Shouta reassures. “You are far from the worse I’ve seen today.”
He thinks he hears the Problem Child mutter, “should have made you wear Dabi’s crop-top,” and the child on the supervillain’s lap ask as low as she can, “what’s a crop-top?”
“That isn’t particularly reassuring. One would expect a certain standard of dress from the most prestigious hero school in the country.” Ah, an unimpressed supervillain, how lovely.
Shouta is going to need a drink by the time today ends.
“The students have a strict uniform policy they must adhere to unless their quirk or something else makes them unable, then appropriate alternatives are provided.” Shouta explains. “However we had made no mention of a dress code requirement when arranging these parent-teacher meetings, and it was not expected for the parents to show up particularly well presented.”
And then, because he is tired and maybe just a little self-destructive; “If you’d like to talk more about our uniform policy, then perhaps our first topic of conversation should be about your son’s ability to tie a tie. Or lack thereof.”
In the corner of his eye, Shouta notes that Yagi seems to be reaching to put a (bloodied) hand over his mouth. Probably to get him to stop talking. Too bad. Shouta, moves away from the hand. It is a well known fact that he’s been digging his own grave long before he decided to help out teenage vigilantes and turn a blind eye to their criminal organisations.
“Ah yes.” Midoriya Hisashi acknowledges. A regretful sigh. “My son takes after me in many ways-” Yagi makes some concerning noises, like a dying weasel on steroids, “-but unfortunately I could never convince him of the importance of making oneself look presentable. I own my own business, you see, and the first step to maintaining successful interactions is in conveying the power you hold. Of course, I love my son all the same, and he certainly has the potential to inherit the family business. Really, I was rather surprised to learn he ended up in the hero course of all things.”
The word hero is said with such disdain Shouta can almost taste the rot in the supervillain’s voice.
And of course, it’s those words that flip the switch in the co-worker sitting next to him.
Izuku sees the moment his dad pushes too far (really, he can’t take the man anywhere).
He sees the moment All Might forgets there is a young, timid child cradled safely on his dad’s lap. And sure, his dad can take care of both himself and Eri easily enough without the girl coming to any harm, but that doesn’t mean he wants that next One for All versus All for One battle to take place in the middle of his high school (or in front of Eri, she’s been traumatised enough).
There would be no high school left, and he’s pretty sure the required repairs would make Cementoss cry.
So he moves, a quick mashup of quirks with One for All backing them, to pull Eri off his dad’s lap and to safety on the other side of the room before anyone has the chance to so much as blink.
In that same moment, All for One takes note of All Might’s movements, of the girl who is no longer on his lap, and then of the glowing red eyes of the man who is his son’s favourite teacher.
He takes a calculated hit to the face. There is enough force in it to send him tumbling backwards out of his chair, but nowhere near enough to blast him to pieces. Thank god for Erasure. His hands itch go get hold of that quirk himself. That handshake would have been the perfect opportunity.
Or perhaps not.
...Izuku would probably give him The Look of Disappointment if he did.
He doesn’t like disappointing the boy.
“Eraserhead!” Yagi growls as Shouta’s capture weapon holds him back. Shouta knows he’d have no hope of continuing to restrain the other hero if he blinked, even now it is difficult. The man is a monster in strength even with his innards destroyed. His eyes itch. “Let me go! You must understand- that man is-”
Shouta sighs. As soon as this is over he’s getting coffee. “Yagi, you’ve just assaulted the parent of one of my students. I’m not letting go until you calm down and the situation has been deescalated.”
“That man is a villain. A dangerous one! He cannot be allowed to roam free!”
“He is the parent of one of my students.” Shouta repeats. “Villain or not, he is here to discuss his child’s progress in school.” He notes movement on the floor, the supervillain making a show of rubbing his already swelling cheek as he slowly sits up. The problem child and the other kid are both by his side now, looking at his injury.
His student looks far more exasperated than worried. That’s… probably a good sign?
Seeing the two children by the fallen man’s side must strike something in Yagi. The strain on Shouta’s capture weapon lessens until there is no longer any need for him to be using it.
“But he…” The number one hero starts, looking lost. Weakly; “he’s wearing a wig.”
And so the supervillain is. It’s crooked now, hanging to the side to reveal the short white hair beneath.
“Another thing my son insisted I do before coming.” The supervillain brings a hand up to ruffle Eri’s hair, then the Problem Child’s, before moving to his feet and dusting himself off. “Really, I can’t say I’m impressed by what just happened, but I do appreciate your intervention, Eraserhead. I can see why my son likes you.”
“I’d like to apologise for the actions of my co-worker.” Shouta says. “I’d ask you not to press charges, but I think that’s pointless.”
The supervillain laughs. “Ah yes. Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be much point in doing so. Heroes get away with so much these days. Why even the Number Two is still getting away with-”
“Dad,” the problem child cuts in, “please stop antagonising All Might. He’s going into shock.”
(It says something about his students that that wasn’t the worst parent-teacher meeting of the week. At least when Bakugo walks into the room with his parents, Shouta has had the chance to learn from his past mistakes and messages Kurogiri to warp him a coffee. Spiked with whisky, of course.)
They’re once again sitting in the office adjacent to the teacher’s lounge. Mentor and student sitting across from one another in a tense silence.
Yagi, after panicked calls to Gran Torino and Naomasa, has had time to calm down. To think about this rationally. To squash down the feeling of betrayal that just keeps bubbling up no matter how many times he tells himself there must be an explanation, young Midoriya is a good kid damn it!
“Young Midoriya.” He starts. A pause. He is very out of his depth. There are two possibilities here, and he does not like either of them. “Are you aware that your father is the villain All for One?”
The boy blinks at him. “He’s not technically my father-” oh thank god, “-but yes, I did know.” Ah, there’s that betrayal bubbling up again. Or is that blood? Yagi coughs.
It’s both.
“Why did you never mention it?”
His successor shrugs, casual. Like his father isn’t the worst villain Yagi has ever come across, like the man hasn’t killed every One for All successor before the eighth. Like the boy knows, and just doesn’t care.
Like the boy is just like his father.
“You never asked.”
“The original fuckendeavour was Fuyumi all along.”
“How’d you find out, little bro?”
“She posted a video of herself hitting dad with a cast iron pan.”
“…”
“She even gave a peace sign at the end.”
“Huh.”
Dabi makes a note to pay their sister a visit sometime.
And to maybe bring a peace offering.