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It was around this point that Izuku realized he was in over his head.
To his credit, there was no panic involved. There wasn’t even any fear, at least not yet. But somewhere between throwing himself flat under a concentrated fire blast, dodging a volley of javelin-like spikes, and failing to dodge a glancing punch to the face, the thought of I may be in over my head made its way through his head at least once. It was almost casual. He probably would have panicked more over the realization that he’d left the oven on.
Which sort of made sense. He could dodge attacks and counter them, contact nearby heroes for help, and find his way to less concentrated areas of conflict, but if he’d left the oven on, there wasn’t much he could do besides hope and pray that it wouldn’t catch fire before he got back to turn it off.
There were either six or seven villains after him at the moment. It was difficult to tell for sure; they kept moving, and two of them looked alike enough that it was possible he was dealing with a cloning quirk. One of them had some fairly heavy-duty flames at her disposal, another was leaping and flipping like a flea on a hot pan, and a third was absolutely bristling with barbed half-meter spines, which he could apparently fire at will like arrows.
A concentrated group of villains had struck simultaneously and were wreaking havoc across town, calling all available heroes to action. This included provisional heroes, as well; Izuku was in the thick of it, as were quite a few of his classmates. Not ten minutes ago he’d seen Kacchan, fresh out of the makeup training course, fighting alongside Kirishima and Uraraka. Between the provisional heroes and the official licensed pros, it seemed like everyone was out in force.
And yet, here he was, dodging and fighting for his life on the roof of a one-story building, on his own and outnumbered, just barely staying ahead of serious injury.
His thoughts from that point where a stream. Heavy pyrokinesis, nowhere near Endeavor’s level but what she lacks in raw power she makes up for in precision. Increased agility on him—that kind of jumping power isn’t possible without equipment or a quirk. Those thorns, probably hardened keratin, maximum range is anyone’s guess but he’s been shooting me without any problems. Possible cloning quirk—the villain’s form rippled, and a third identical figure appeared. Definitely a cloning quirk, limits uncertain, eight against one is poor odds.
The agility villain lunged, aiming a vicious kick to Izuku’s gut. Izuku simultaneously braced himself and twisted. He was barely fast enough; the steel-toed boot hit his midriff at an angle instead of straight on. It would leave a nasty bruise, but a bruise was better than damaged organs.
Izuku threw a glance over each shoulder. He was still technically surrounded, but only because he was drawing closer to the edge of the roof. They meant to trap him there. If he was nimble enough, and lucky enough, hopefully that wouldn’t be a possibility for them. His stomach turned with dread at the thought, but he forced the possibility into his mind. It was only a one-story building, after all.
Fiery pain lit up in his shoulder as one of the thorn villain’s darts glanced over it, ripping through his costume and the flesh beneath it. The dart buried itself in the roof behind him, and Izuku threw caution to the wind. Turning, ignoring the sting, he took two steps and launched himself into empty space.
In the end he was very nimble, and very lucky. He landed on flat grass, muddy from recent rainfall, and managed to tuck and roll to lessen the shock of his landing. As soon as his feet were under him, he shoved himself upright and took off running again, hoping to put as much distance between himself and the villains as he could. He looked over his shoulder, and his heart sank when he saw the agility villain, the three clones, and one of the villains whose quirk he hadn’t identified, all hot on his heels. The latter’s power was no longer a mystery; even with Full Cowl activated, the woman was gaining on him fast. Enhanced speed. Probably dressed in friction-resistant fabric, to keep it from wearing out or heating up.
Another dart glanced off his leg, turned away by the braces on his costume. Range on the thorn quirk is at least fifty meters.
He felt the woman catch up to him before he heard her or saw her. Izuku dodged to the side, only for the woman to kick his feet out from under him. At the speed he was going, he only just managed to bring his arms up to protect his face when he hit the ground and rolled with the impact. He came to a halt flat on his back, just in time to see her coming at him again; it was more reflex than quick thinking that bright his right foot up and out. The sole of his boot caught her full in the stomach and sent her flying. Izuku rolled again and planted his hands on the ground to shove himself up.
Someone’s elbow slammed into his lower back, knocking him face-first into the pavement. The wind left his lungs with a faint whoosh, leaving him gasping for breath. Before he had the chance to recover, his attacker grabbed a fistful of his hair and hauled him up to his knees, and he found himself face to face with one of the clones. His scalp stung as he struggled and twisted around to see where the others were. The clones were surrounding him, and the agility villain was leaping in to join the fray. Izuku grabbed the clone villain’s wrist and twisted, until he was rewarded by a cry of pain as the hand released his hair. He was just getting his breath back when the villain retaliated with a knee to his gut. Izuku retched and tasted bile. He was surrounded on all sides, and it was only a matter of time before the villains he’d left behind caught up to them.
“Drop!”
The voice was a familiar one. Powerfully familiar - just the sound of it loosened the fear and pressure knotted in Izuku’s chest. The conscious part of Izuku’s mind was too occupied to put a name to it, but he dropped to a crouch, clutching at his sore stomach, and a wave of intense heat passed over his head, missing him by inches. Shouts of alarm rang out from the villains, and the suffocating feeling of being surrounded suddenly left him. Even with the bruised feeling in his ribs, even with his abdomen aching with every breath, Izuku could suddenly breathe.
He didn’t quite see the hand offered to him, but he felt it there, and when he reached out to grasp it, it chilled him to the bone. Grinning, Izuku raised his eyes as he was pulled to his feet.
“Thanks, Todoroki.”
“You looked a little out of your depth.”
There was no time for more words. Five on one had become seven on two; the cloning villain had sprouted another copy, and the woman wielding fire had finally caught up. Izuku exchanged one more look with Todoroki, and the pair of them threw themselves back into the fight—Todoroki froze the speed villain’s feet to the ground and ran to confront the pyrokinetic, while Izuku faced off against the clones.
There was a downside to the cloning quirk, Izuku realized after a few moments of fighting. There were four of them now, and each of them was slower than they were when there were only three. He kicked out at one, and it was almost too easy to send him flying into another.
Izuku’s shoulder still burned, and his right eye was rapidly swelling shut, but he fought on. One of the clones vanished, and the remaining three regained strength and speed. Abilities are distributed among clones. The more clones, the weaker they are individually. The best way to combat this, of course, was to force them to fight individually. With Todoroki and the pyrokinetic throwing fire and ice at each other and the agile one getting caught in the crossfire, it wasn’t difficult. Divide and conquer became the strategy of the hour; he met Todoroki’s eyes, and the two of them reached a silent agreement.
Using the chaos of Todoroki’s fight to his advantage, Izuku wore down the clones until three became two, and finally the villain gave up on using his quirk and came at him as one person instead. Izuku was barely ready; the villain aimed a kick at his head with enough power to knock him unconscious if it had made direct contact. As it was, just a glancing blow when Izuku dodged was enough to send him reeling for a moment. A well-timed blast of flames from Todoroki sent the agility villain hurtling into the cloner, giving Izuku time to recover his senses.
The agility villain was out for the count after that, and Izuku finally subdued his opponent right before Todoroki wore the pyrokinetic to exhaustion. Izuku stepped back, still dizzy from the kick to the head, just as Todoroki’s opponent blew her last drop of power and fainted dead away on the ruined pavement. Both of them were breathing hard, and Izuku shifted his footing as his balance continued to waver.
“All right?” Todoroki asked.
“Yeah, just… just a little rattled.” Izuku almost shook his head to try to clear it, but decided that adding more stress to his brain probably wasn’t a good idea. “Thanks for that.”
The look that Todoroki gave him was close enough to a smile that it might as well be called that. “It’s no trouble. You looked like you could-” Mid-sentence, Todoroki stopped talking. His eyes locked on something behind Izuku, and he moved faster than Izuku could blink. A blast of ice sent Todoroki hurtling past him at a breakneck speed, and a split-second later the familiar creaking of heavy ice reached Izuku’s ears—the unmistakable sound of Todoroki sending up a frozen shield. As Izuku whipped around, the creaking was followed by a barrage of hollow, cracking thuds. Dazed, Izuku regained his balance and blinked in astonishment as his brain caught up with what he was seeing.
Todoroki stood with his back to him, hands outstretched from summoning the wall of ice. It was too thick to see through it clearly, but Izuku recognized the sharp tips that had punched through to their side. The thorn-throwing villain had caught up; if Todoroki hadn’t seen him coming, half of that volley would have ended up in Izuku’s back.
Izuku suppressed a shudder. Sudden retroactive terror over his near-miss registered as shaky laughter. “That was close,” he breathed. “Thanks, Todoroki, you just saved me twice in… a row…” His voice trailed off.
Before him, Todoroki’s arms slowly lowered to his sides, and his head dipped as he stared down at something Izuku couldn’t see. He swayed on his feet.
An icy claw of fear gripped Izuku’s heart before he could properly register why. “Todoroki?”
“Sorry.” His friend’s voice was almost too quiet to hear. “Sorry, Midoriya.” He stepped back on unsteady feet. “I thought I’d be faster-”
Izuku barely managed to catch Todoroki as he staggered and collapsed back against him. Alarmed, Izuku struggled to hold him upright, until he made the mistake of looking over Todoroki’s shoulder. The base of a bloodied spike protruding from the left side of his stomach.
“Todoroki-” Bile rose in his throat, and panic threatened to overtake him. With Todoroki’s back pressed against his chest, Izuku was dimly aware of a warm wetness leaking against his stomach—it went through, it went all the way through—
Somehow he ended up on his knees, cradling Todoroki and trying to remember the steps that went into breathing in and out. A wet cough wracked his friend’s body. Todoroki’s head lolled back against Izuku’s chest, and his mismatched eyes were glassy with pain as he stared up at Izuku’s face.
Later, Izuku would be at a loss to explain the next few seconds. There was no sound, no indication that an attack was coming, but in that instant, he knew with every fiber of his being that there was. It wasn’t too different from the day Kacchan was attacked, six months before he’d set foot anywhere near UA—without a single command from his brain, Izuku’s body moved.
One For All cloaked him. Weariness, pain, and even the weight of Todoroki’s body faded into the background. Izuku gathered his friend into his arms and launched himself away from the ice wall. More thorns thudded into the ground in his wake, where he and Todoroki had been barely a second before.
He didn’t look back. There wasn’t time to look back. With Todoroki limp in his arms, Izuku ran.
Without Full Cowl, he never would have made it. Todoroki’s weight threw off his balance, but One For All kept him on his feet and racing through the battle-torn streets. With his hands free, he could have drawn circles around his pursuer and left him in the dust. But with Todoroki heavy in his arms, Izuku barely kept out of his reach.
His mental map took him through alleys and side streets, over dumpsters and fences as he raced toward the evacuation area. There were paramedics there, and heroes guarding it. They wouldn’t thank him for leading a villain straight to it, but Izuku was past caring about that at the moment.
Finally, his luck held. Izuku ducked into a side street, spring-boarded off of a dumpster, and ran a few steps along the side of a building to clear a chain-link fence, and it was only then that he shook his pursuer. Izuku almost sobbed with relief—he was almost there.
One final leap, up a few steps and over a wall, and Izuku reached the guarded evacuation area. On the way down, he angled himself so that he took the brunt of the landing instead of Todoroki, and finally they were in the clear. Other heroes were still bringing injured civilians as Izuku sprang in among them. When his voice rang out, he almost didn’t recognize it—rough and raw and forceful, demanding nothing less than attention.
“Need help over here!”
It took time for help to come, and Todoroki was running short on time. Izuku laid him down as gently as he could, shielding the back of his head from the hard ground with one hand, and pressing the other gingerly around the spine impaling him in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. Todoroki’s breath came in short, rough gasps, and his face was pale and frozen with pain.
“Hey.” Izuku smiled down at him. He didn’t want to smile. He wanted to scream and cry and maybe throw up a little, but he smiled, even though it had never hurt so much to smile before. “Todoroki, we made it. We’re safe, it’s gonna be fine, just—stay awake, okay? Don’t fall asleep on me. I need you to stay awake for me.” His eyes stung, tears gathered and threatened to blur his vision, but he smiled and talked and kept his friend’s unfocused eyes open until medics reached them.
Gently but firmly, they guided him back and away from Todoroki. Someone was talking to him, but Izuku’s ears might as well have been filled with cotton. He nodded, and maybe he thanked someone, before finally moving off.
He spotted a familiar face nearby—Iida was carefully lowering an injured girl from his back, passing her into the care of the medical team. He stood up again, smiling, face set with determination, and turned to return to the fight.
Right. There was still a fight going on. People still needed help. Other heroes were still suppressing the villains. He could still be of use. Izuku gave Iida a weak wave as he moved to follow him, but—and this was odd—he couldn’t quite manage a smile.
Iida met his eyes from the distance, and when Izuku caught up to him, Iida placed a careful hand on his uninjured shoulder and gently steered him back. Too dazed to protest, Izuku let his friend press him down to sit, and waited while Iida brought over one of the medics. If he said anything, Izuku was too disoriented to register it. All he would later remember was the light, friendly squeeze to his shoulder before Iida left.
The world was slowly returning to him, and it brought with it a fiery, stinging pain in his side. He looked down, surprised, and found his costume torn above his right hip and matted with blood. Another spine had grazed him from behind, ripping through his side as he ran, and he hadn’t even noticed. Numbly, Izuku looked at the deep, burning gash along his hip, and then at the dark stains smeared over his gloves, his sleeves, and the front of his costume.
Izuku tore his eyes away from the sight and let the medics work on his injuries.
For nearly an hour after that, heroes continued to clean up the attacking villains. Izuku thought about joining in again to help, but the medics forbade it. He was only a provisional hero, after all. And even if he hadn’t been, it only took a few tests to determine that the kick to the head had left him with a minor concussion. In his dazed state, it was easy for them to gently bully him into going to the hospital.
He wasn’t sure how long he ended up sitting in a quieter hallway, judged safe to send home but without the presence of mind to call someone. He was still in his costume, though he’d been divested of his gloves at some point. It was probably for the best; the sight of Todoroki’s literal blood on his hands was too much for him.
The sound of a bag hitting the floor near him brought the world back with an abruptness that made him twitch, but a familiar hand on his shoulder stilled him.
“Just me, Midoriya.” All-Might gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Sorry it took so long—it took a while for me to track you down. Thought you might appreciate a change of clothes.”
Izuku managed to stammer out his thanks before All-Might pushed a folded set of clothes into his hands and shooed him off to the nearest bathroom to change. He emerged a few minutes later in a clean T-shirt and jeans, his costume bundled up, the bloodstains tucked out of sight. All-Might, in the meantime, had dragged another chair over and was sitting in it, waiting for him.
As Izuku lowered himself back into the chair next to his mentor, he felt his throat close, and his breath hitched in the suddenly too-small space.
“Most of the UA staff have been helping with relief efforts,” All-Might said. “There’s not much I can do anymore, in that respect, but I’ve been keeping tabs on hospitals.” His voice was light and casual, almost deceptively so. “I, ah, just visited young Ojiro at another hospital—he’s all right, by the way—when I got word that you had checked in here. It’s… I’m very glad to see that your injuries aren’t serious.”
Izuku barely nodded. He didn’t trust himself not to burst into tears if he tried to speak, and All-Might was always saying that he needed to cry less often.
“Ah, and I heard young Todoroki was here, as well,” All-Might said, and Izuku’s stomach lurched. “I haven’t been to see him yet. Can’t seem to get any solid answers on how he’s doing-”
Izuku choked back a sob. He gripped the edges of his chair so hard that it turned his knuckles white, and he tucked his chin against his chest and bit his lip to keep from making another noise like that. He was trying, he was trying. His hands hurt and he was biting so hard he could taste blood, but he was trying.
All-Might’s hand settled on his back, right between his shoulder blades. “Midoriya?” His teacher’s voice was low and gentle. “Midoriya, tell me what’s wrong.”
Izuku squeezed his eyelids shut and shook his head slowly. Not yet. He needed a minute—if he talked now, and if he talked about what had happened to Todoroki, then he would definitely cry.
“Izuku.”
When he looked up, All-Might’s face was already blurring through a film of tears.
“It’s all right, my boy.”
“No,” Izuku whispered back. “It’s not.” It all came out then, words and tears spilling into the open. All-Might simply listened, rubbing comforting circles against his back as Izuku told him everything that had happened. “It’s my fault.” His voice was a shaking, cracking mess; Izuku himself was a mess, breaking down in a quiet hospital hallway in front of the man he’d looked up to since before he’d learned to read. “It’s my fault, he– he was watching my back, and-”
Wordlessly, All-Might drew him into a hug. It was too late to worry about crying now, so Izuku simply clung to him, buried his face in All-Might’s chest, and sobbed himself dry.
When it finally died down, All-Might pulled back with his hands on Izuku’s shoulders. “Stay here a moment—here, it slipped my mind before. You forgot your phone.” He slipped the device out of his pocket and pressed it into Izuku’s hands. “Contact your friends—call your mother—make sure everyone knows you’re all right. I’m going to go ask at the front desk again, see if I can’t get more information out of them. Understand?”
Izuku nodded.
“Good. I’ll be right back.”
All-Might left his side, and Izuku shakily wiped his eyes and tried to get his breathing steady again. At some point, a medic with a healing quirk had taken care of the gashes on his shoulder and side, but they were still sore, and he’d probably re-injure himself if he pushed it.
He checked his messages. He didn’t have too many; most of his friends had been busy with the relief efforts and suppressing the villains. With a jolt, he saw that Todoroki had contacted him at some point — “They’ve sent out the call to every available hero. I’m on my way out now - should we meet up?” Izuku had to pause, put his phone aside, and breathe for a few moments before continuing. He had a few texts from Iida and Uraraka, one from Tsuyu, and even one from Mineta. At some point Kaminari, who had stayed in that day to make up an essay he’d failed, had sent out a mass text asking what was going on.
Mom had called, though. She’d called several times.
Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he wrote up a quick message — “at hinari hospital, waiting on news. i’m ok but it looks like i’m done for the day. stay safe everyone!” — and sent it as a mass text to all his friends. It wasn’t until he’d already hit Send that he remembered that Todoroki would be getting that message, too.
A moment more to compose himself, and he called his mother.
“Hi, Mom, I’m okay,” he said when she picked up. It was half a lie and half a truth; he was in one piece, and relatively uninjured now that he’d been given the okay by the hospital. But he hurt. He hurt more than he ever had before, and he was so far from okay that he couldn’t have seen it through a telescope.
“Izuku! Oh, thank goodness! I’ve been watching the news, but I couldn’t reach you, so—I thought, no news is good news, if something happened then… then someone would hear about it, and… you’re all right?”
“Yeah, Mom.” Izuku’s voice shook. “Sorry. I left my phone when I went out, and All-Might just brought it to me. I’m, um. I’m not hurt. Hit my head a little, but… I’ll be okay. I just…” His breath caught in his throat. “One of my friends got hurt. I’m waiting to make sure he’s okay.” He swallowed hard. “I think it’s mostly over, Mom. I’m fine.”
Her sigh of relief rasped over the phone. “Good. Good. Izuku?”
“Yes?”
“You’re out there…” A wobbly chuckle cut off her words. “Fighting villains, saving people… you’re really cool, you know that?”
He was glad this was a phone conversation. In that moment, Izuku could only be desperately grateful that she couldn’t see his face. “Thanks, Mom,” he said. “I’ll, uh, call you later, okay?”
“Okay. I love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you too. Bye mom.” Izuku hung up right before a fresh wave of tears came flooding out.
When they finally stopped, Izuku looked up to see All-Might striding back down the hallway. He sat up straighter, half hopeful and half dreading what his teacher might say.
“Finally talked to the right person,” All-Might told him. “Breathe, Midoriya.” The smile that All-Might gave him was strained, but it wasn’t pasted-on or fake. “He just came out of surgery. He’s stable.”
It was a good thing that Izuku was sitting, because he felt his muscles turn to liquid. “He’s okay?”
“He’s out of danger for now.” All-Might’s hand came to rest lightly on Izuku’s head. “Apparently, it was a matter of getting to him in time.”
In any other set of circumstances, Izuku might have cried with relief. But this time, it seemed he’d used up all his tears for now.
All-Might gave his hair a comforting ruffle. “Come on, my boy. If we’re polite, they’ll let us see him.”
There wasn’t much to see, with Todoroki still under anaesthesia. A half hour later Izuku walked out into the waiting room to clear his head, and was immediately swamped on all sides by familiar faces.
“Deku!” Uraraka was still in costume as she leaped into a hug. “Omigosh, you’re okay! I got your text and you said you were in the hospital, and I was kind of freaking out but I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Clenching his teeth, Izuku bit back a whimper of pain when Uraraka’s enthusiastic embrace jarred his tender shoulder. “Sorry to worry you,” he managed to say. He briefly returned it, then gingerly extricated himself from Uraraka’s arms. Along with Uraraka were Tsuyu, Iida, Sero, Mineta, and Kirishima, all of them looking eager to see him.
“It’s all right,” Tsuyu assured him. “We were worried but not really surprised. You’re like a magnet for trouble, Midoriya.”
“Seriously!” Mineta piped up. “It’s like your thing, Midoriya, you always end up right in the middle of everything!”
Izuku’s breath caught in his throat, and he almost choked on perfectly good air. “I… I wasn’t…” he stammered. “It wasn’t the middle, I just got unlucky, that’s all.”
“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m still glad I didn’t run into you, otherwise I’d’ve been scared for my own li-mmmff!” Iida, borrowing a piece of tape from Sero, was quick to gag him.
“Is there a right way to take that?” Tsuyu wondered out loud.
Kirishima snickered as Mineta tried with little success to voice his indignation through the tape. “So Midoriya, do you know if anybody else we know is here, or are we the first people you’ve run into?”
Izuku’s blood ran cold. They didn’t know about Todoroki, and why would they? In all the confusion, word probably hadn’t gotten out yet. Hospitals only called family—and for that matter, was Endeavor going to show up at some point?
“Uhh,” he began, before Kirishima’s eyes locked on something behind him, and a smile spread across his face.
“Hey, All-Might’s here too, why didn’t you say so?”
By some miracle, Kirishima kept his voice low enough not to alert everyone in the waiting room that the former number-one hero was cautiously making his way down the open hallway. Izuku breathed a sigh of relief as his classmates rushed past him to greet their teacher.
“Hey, Sensei!”
“What’re you doing here?”
“All-Might, you’ll never guess what I did, there was this lizard guy, and I totally-”
“I helped!”
As the others gathered excitedly around All-Might, meeting him in the hallway just short of the entrance to the waiting room, Iida pulled Izuku aside.
“Midoriya, are you really all right?”
Izuku blinked up at his friend, bewildered. “I—yes. W-why wouldn’t I be?”
His friend’s face was almost always serious, but even now there was a note of gravity that wasn’t usually there. “Midoriya, I saw you at the evacuation area. It frightened me half to death to see you in such a state—I wanted to speak with you then, but you didn’t seem to be in the best place to talk. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m… well… no.” Izuku’s voice cracked.
“Midoriya?” Iida’s voice went from grave to gentle, and his serious expression softened with concern. “What’s wrong?”
His stomach turned. “S-something… bad happened,” Izuku forced out. “Look, Iida, I don’t know how to-”
Deku!” Uraraka’s call made him jump. He had barely recovered when she came hurrying back, eyes wide. Bracing himself, he waited until she had reached them and caught hold of his elbow. “Deku, you didn’t say Todoroki was here, too!”
“I didn’t… get the chance…” Izuku said weakly. Beside him, Iida was close enough for Izuku to feel him tense up.
Uraraka stared at him, wide-eyed with quiet alarm. “All-Might says he’s still in really bad shape,” she said in a soft, tremulous voice. “Do you know what happened?”
Izuku ground his teeth until his jaw cracked.
“Uraraka, c’mon,” Tsuyu called over. “Don’t crowd Midoriya, let’s just go see for ourselves.”
“Oh! Right, coming!”
He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until Uraraka left his side, at which point he let it out shakily. HIs head swam, but he wasn’t sure if it was guilt or the concussion he was feeling.
“Midoriya?”
Iida’s hand was on his uninjured shoulder again. Forcing himself to look his friend in the eye, Izuku found Iida watching him in shock, concern, and growing understanding.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Izuku whispered.
For a moment he was afraid Iida might protest, might insist that Izuku tell him everything, but instead his friend simply nodded. “Anything I can do?”
“Let’s just go.”
They caught up with the others just in time to hear bad news; there were too many of them, and they weren’t going to be allowed to see him either way. Not even All-Might would be allowed back in.
“I know you’re worried,” the frazzled, apologetic nurse told them. She had to pitch her voice above Kirishima’s groan of protest. “But we can’t allow all of you in at once, especially now – it’s been a little disorganized since all of this started, but I just spoke with the head nurse, and from here on out we’re only allowing access to family and next of kin, especially where injured heroes are concerned.”
Kirishima opened his mouth as if to protest again, Iida beat him to the punch. “And of course, we understand your position perfectly,” he said, with a brief, severe look in Kirishima’s direction. “And it is very sensible of you to do so. Would it be possible for you to tell us how he’s doing, at least?”
“The boy in 341, right?” the nurse said. All-Might nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” With that, she hurried off again. The group was left standing in the hallway, tense and nervous with too few answers.
“Midoriya, you were here first, right?” Tsuyu tapped his arm. “Did you get to see him?”
“Uh, y-yes.” Izuku swallowed, but it didn’t do much about the lump in his throat. “H-he’s, uh… he’s been unconscious, the whole time, so… I couldn’t tell you much about how he’s doing.”
“Do you know what happened?” Sero asked.
“U-um.” His eyes burned. No, he couldn’t cry, not now. If he cried then he’d give himself away, and he’d have to explain and then they’d know it was his fault-
“Midoriya, you were injured as well, weren’t you?” Iida broke in.
“Oh, yes,” Izuku replied, startled. “Just—my shoulder, and my side, but the medics took care of it. And, um… they said I had a mild concussion, but I’m okay to go home, so…”
“Oh my gosh, Deku I’m so sorry-” Uraraka spluttered. “I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have gotten in your face if I’d known-”
“I-it’s okay! It’s okay.” At a loss for what else to do, Izuku put on the brightest smile he could manage. “I’ve had worse. I didn’t even break a bone this time. I’ll be fine, I’m just a little rattled, that’s all.”
“Glad you’re okay, buddy,” Kirishima said with a razor-sharp grin. “And, uh, Bakugou would probably say the same thing if he was here, but he decided not to come with.”
“I’m pretty sure he’d never actually say that,” Tsuyu muttered.
The nurse returned presently. “Your friend came in with a stab wound to his abdomen,” she explained. “Right now he’s stable and being kept under anesthesia. His injuries were too severe for healing quirks to take care of, but we were able to get him into surgery in time.” She gave them a reassuring smile. “Barring any unforeseen complications, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t make a full recovery. Again, I’m sorry we can’t let you in to see him, but I’m sure he’ll be happy to know you were so concerned, once he wakes up.”
There was a collective sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” Iida murmured.
All-Might gave the woman a polite nod. “Thank you very much, nurse.”
“It’s no trouble.”
The nurse left. Izuku had been staring at the wall throughout her explanation, eyes watering. It was nothing he didn’t already know, but it comforted him and stirred up his guilt in equal measure. Todoroki would be fine. It might be Izuku’s fault that he was in here in the first place, but he would be all right.
“You okay, Midoriya?” It was Tsuyu who noticed him first. Izuku jerked his head up, blinked back his tears, and managed to force another smile into place.
“Yeah, just… close call, you know?”
“Sounds like it,” Sero agreed.
Mineta sighed and sagged a little. “I’m just glad it wasn’t me.”
Izuku could feel All-Might watching him, and avoided looking back at him. So far, All-Might was the only one who knew. He’d worried that Iida might know something, and he did; he’d seen Izuku at the evacuation site, dazed and spattered in Todoroki’s blood. But he didn’t know the specifics. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know why.
He’d tell him. He’d tell them all what happened—but later. For now, he kept his smile in place, trying desperately to trick the fear and the pressure that had been building within him from the moment Todoroki had collapsed bleeding in his arms.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He’d known it would happen eventually. Frankly, it was a bigger surprise that it hadn’t happened sooner.
But Izuku had far too many things on his mind, and so it came as an unpleasant surprise when Endeavor finally made an appearance.
Word had spread via text messaging; more of their classmates arrived at the hospital. Jirou, Yaoyorozu, Tokoyami, and Shouji all showed up, bringing news that Ojiro had been injured, but not severely. In that time, Izuku had gained a new respect for All-Might over the past hour. Surrounded by his classmates, carrying around his churning feelings like a dead weight, smiling was becoming more and more of a strain. He wasn’t tricking his fear so much as masking it, and from time to time Izuku slipped away from his classmates to wander aimlessly through the hospital and clear his head. If he cried a little while he was doing it, then that was nobody’s business but his own.
He’d lost count of the times he passed through the hallway where Todoroki’s hospital room was. He still wasn’t allowed in; there were sensors at each room’s door that, when activated, sent a silent alarm to the hospital’s security team if anyone without a special pass tried to enter. But he could still wander the hallways, and pass by the room on the pretense of finding a bathroom.
Now, he found his feet taking him in that direction again. Only this time, when he rounded the corner, he found Endeavor pacing in and out of the doorway.
Izuku flailed a little as he ducked back around the corner and pressed himself flat against the wall, breathing shallowly and listening. Had Endeavor spotted him? He didn’t relish the thought of running into Endeavor on the best of days, but today? Izuku doubted he could have handled it with his fraying nerves intact.
He heard Endeavor’s voice clearly enough in the quiet hallway, but he was speaking to someone else. He hadn’t spotted Izuku.
“I’ve looked in on him,” the Flame Hero said gruffly. He sounded like he was on the phone with someone. Izuku kept still, heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t know an awful lot about Endeavor beyond what other people had told him (what Todoroki had told him) but one thing he was sure of was that Endeavor didn’t like him. And if he already didn’t like him, then he certainly wouldn’t be pleased to find Izuku skulking around Todoroki’s hospital room. “I’ve spoken with the nurses, as well. There’s no danger—he’ll recover.”
Something about Endeavor’s tone of voice—dismissive, lukewarm, unworried—set Izuku’s teeth to grinding.
“I put feelers out to find out how he let this happen,” Endeavor went on. “Apparently, his classmate brought him to the field medics. That classmate. All-Might’s little favorite.” His tone curled with contempt.
Izuku had long given up any hope—or desire, for that matter—of gaining Endeavor’s good opinion. But still, his gut wrenched at the open scorn in Endeavor’s voice. His jaw creaked from clenching. He ought to leave. He wasn’t meant to be hearing this, and it would only make him feel worse, but something kept his feet rooted to the spot.
“Pathetic,” Endeavor spat. Izuku flinched. “No, I’m more disappointed than anything else. A real outing, a chance to test himself, and this is how it turns out. I expected better out of him than an obvious defeat, to say nothing of the fact that he had to be carried to safety by a student he should be working to surpass.”
Izuku’s nails bit into his palms. He stared at the floor, trying to ignore the sudden shade of red in his vision.
“Well, he isn’t dead, so it’s not a total loss,” Endeavor went on. “Thank goodness for small mercies. I’ve invested far too much in that boy for him to be wasted so pointlessly.”
Izuku finally shifted then, pushing himself away from the wall. He didn’t run; running might give him away, and somehow he still had the presence of mind to realize that. So he walked, quickly and quietly, until Endeavor’s voice finally faded from his ears.
His jaw hurt. His fists hurt. His palms stung where his nails had left half-moon dints.
He’d never doubted Todoroki’s word. He’d never even questioned it, not once. He’d never wondered if his friend was being honest; even back at the Sports Festival, it had never even entered into his mind that Todoroki was telling anything but the truth. But there was a difference between knowing from a distance about what kind of person Endeavor was, and standing five meters away while Endeavor spat that verbal poison in the very room where his son was unconscious and injured.
For the first time since he’d set foot in this hospital, the fear and pressure and sickening guilt faded into the background, replaced with a burning, roiling disgust.
When Midoriya returned to the waiting room where the rest of the class had gathered, the first thing Iida noticed was that he wasn’t smiling.
It wasn’t just that he wasn’t smiling. Midoriya was bright, optimistic, and determinedly friendly, but Iida had certainly seen his friend frown before. He’d seen Midoriya look scared, startled, saddened, determined, serious, and any number of other emotions that didn’t require a smile. Just that day, he’d seen what Midoriya looked like in shock—which was something that Iida quietly hoped he’d never have to see again.
But, thinking back, Iida wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Midoriya look angry.
Iida wasn’t the only one to take notice. It was Tsuyu who spoke up first. “Something wrong, Midoriya?”
“I’m fine,” he said tersely, and fooled precisely no one.
“You don’t look fine,” Kirishima said bluntly.
“I don’t-” Midoriya looked like he was about to snap and say something unkind, but he seemed to catch himself just in time. “-feel like talking about it,” he finished.
“You sure?” Kirishima asked. “I mean, that’s cool, you do you, but you kinda look ready to kill someone right now and it’s freaking me out a little.”
Midoriya stared at him for a moment. “Well all right then,” he said simply, and turned on his heel and started walking out again.
Several glares were sent Kirishima’s way. “Nice going,” Jirou muttered.
To Kirishima’s credit, he looked instantly contrite. “Wait a—Midoriya, I didn’t mean-”
“It’s fine,” Midoriya interrupted, but he was still walking away.
All-Might stood then, moving to Midoriya’s side and settling a calming hand on his shoulder. “Come on, my boy. Let’s see if the cafeteria in this place has anything edible.”
On an impulse, Iida stood quickly and moved to catch up, nearly bumping into Uraraka when she did the same. “An excellent idea, I think,” he said. “Would you mind if I accompanied you?”
“Me too?” Uraraka offered.
All-Might blinked gratefully at them. “I don’t see why not. Midoriya?”
“It’s fine.” It most definitely was not fine, and Iida was determined to get to the bottom of this.
It wasn’t until they were well out of earshot from the others that Iida ventured to speak up. “Midoriya,” he said cautiously. “I don’t mean to pry. But I’m a bit concerned for you.”
Uraraka nodded vigorously in agreement. “Same here,” she said. “You’ve been smiling this whole time, but if it’s really putting a strain on you, you don’t have to put on an act for us.”
“If something is upsetting you, it’s better not to keep it in,” Iida told him. “Are you sure it wouldn’t help to talk? It has for me, in the past.” He didn’t miss the look of concern that passed from All-Might to Midoriya. Whatever this was, Iida was willing to bet their teacher knew about it.
Midoriya’s face crumpled a little. “It’s… a bunch of things,” he said. “And some of it I can’t talk about, okay?”
“If you’re sure…” Uraraka looked uncertain.
“Well… that is…” Iida cleared his throat. “Midoriya, we are friends, are we not? I trust you with my life. If something is troubling you, then I would like to help. It’s… really the least I can do, considering… certain things.”
“And if you don’t want us to, we won’t breathe a word to anyone else,” Uraraka added. “You can trust us, Deku.”
All-Might gave Midoriya’s uninjured shoulder another comforting squeeze. Midoriya bit his lip, but did not reply.
Not immediately, at least. They were halfway to the cafeteria, passing close by the hallway where Todoroki’s hospital room was, when Midoriya seemed to brace himself. “Look, guys, here’s… here’s what happened. Iida, when you ran into me, at the evacu-”
He didn’t get further than that. At that moment, a tall, imposing figure stepped out from an intersecting hallway, and Midoriya stopped dead in his tracks. Uraraka let out a quiet squeak.
Iida blinked, confused and then shocked and… somewhat star-struck, if he were perfectly honest. At first he didn’t recognize the man whose path they were crossing; it was rare to see the hero Endeavor out in public without flames encircling his body as part of his imposing costume. But that made sense; the hospital would hardly approve of that.
“Endeavor,” All-Might greeted him. His voice was soft, almost gentle, as if he were trying to fit an essay’s worth of compassion into a single word.
Todoroki’s father looked back at him coolly, his face unreadable. “All-Might,” he said shortly. Iida saw his eyes flicker briefly to Midoriya, then back to his former colleague.
“You must be worried,” All-Might said. “After a close call like that. I apologize, this must be a difficult time for you.”
“It is what it is.” Endeavor’s expression didn’t change.
All-Might gave him a comforting smile. “Our thoughts are with young Todoroki. Take heart, my friend. Your son is strong—he’ll pull through.”
Endeavor grunted in reply.
“Y-yeah!” Uraraka spoke up, summoning up her courage. “A bunch of us from class came. We’re all waiting… all his friends are here.”
“Hm.” Endeavor barely seemed to acknowledge her. He made as if to move on again, then stopped and turned to Midoriya.
Iida wasn’t sure why, but he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
“I heard something interesting, from some fairly reliable sources,” Endeavor said. “They told me it was you who brought my son to safety, after he was injured.”
Uraraka gasped. Iida had guessed something of the sort. Considering the state in which he’d first found Midoriya, coupled with the fact that he was already with Todoroki in the hospital when Iida and the others had arrived, it had been a strong possibility.
“Deku, is that true?” Uraraka burst out. “You never said!”
Midoriya flinched.
“It’s somewhat embarrassing that he needed your assistance,” Endeavor went on. Iida blinked, confused and faintly uncomfortable. There was something in the way Endeavor put emphasis on the word “your” that sounded… off, somehow. “Nevertheless… I suppose I ought to thank you,” he finished grudgingly. “And express my hopes that he can survive his next fight without your intervention.”
Midoriya was staring at the floor instead of at Endeavor. His hands were at his sides, curling into tight fists.
“It’s a learning process, I believe,” All-Might said. “For now, we’re all just happy that young Todoroki will be all right.”
Endeavor grunted again, and moved to continue walking. All-Might did the same, and Uraraka darted shyly out of Endeavor’s way to join him. Frowning thoughtfully, Iida moved past Midoriya to catch up to them. What an odd exchange—Iida couldn’t help but think that he was missing some context.
“Hey, Endeavor.”
Iida looked back. Midoriya hadn’t moved from his spot, not even to turn and look at the man he was addressing.
“I have a question for you.” The sound of Midoriya’s voice—cold, tightly wound, and shaking—sent chills spider-crawling along Iida’s spine.
“What is it,” Endeavor said.
Midoriya turned his head, raising his eyes to look at Endeavor’s face for the first time, and Iida’s muscles tensed. The look on his friend’s face was beyond anger—it was frozen, nearly blank, as if there was so much feeling behind it that none of it could quite show through. Only his eyes were different, glinting dangerously as his voice dripped with venom.
“Are you happier that I saved your son’s life?” Midoriya asked, voice shaking with held-back temper. “Or that I protected your investment.”
There was a muted, almost noiseless whump, as Endeavor burst into flames. Heated air buffeted Iida’s face, driving him a few steps back.
“How dare you-” Endeavor snarled, towering over Midoriya. Iida looked frantically to his friend, expecting to see him staggering back, retreating, flinching in the face of the enraged flame hero.
Midoriya stood his ground, now facing Endeavor fully. He didn’t just stand his ground; he responded in kind. Less than half Endeavor’s size, Midoriya squared up to him, energy crackling along his skin with the technique he called Full Cowl. For a moment, Iida was too dumbstruck to react. The strongest active hero was wreathed in flames and looming over his friend, menacing him, and Midoriya was responding with a threat display of his own.
And then All-Might was between them, facing Endeavor just as unflinchingly as he placed a hand to Midoriya’s chest and shoved him roughly behind him. Iida and Uraraka, their thoughts in sync, moved in to draw Midoriya further back.
“There’s no need!” All-Might said sharply, holding out both hands in a placating gesture. “Endeavor. Remember where you are.”
The flames vanish, but Endeavor’s face was still twisted with fury.
“You’ll have to excuse young Midoriya,” All-Might went on with forced calm. “The stress of the day must be getting to him. Go see to your son, do whatever you need to do—I’ll have a word with him.”
Without another word, Endeavor turned and stormed off. All-Might took hold of Midoriya’s arm, gave a jerk of his head, and led them farther down the hallway.
Once they had gone a safe distance, away from prying eyes, All-Might rounded on Midoriya with such a thunderous look on his face that Iida could only pity his friend.
“Do not ever—Midoriya Izuku, you will look at me when I am talking to you.” Midoriya cringed, and left off scowling at the floor to raise his head and reluctantly look All-Might in the eye. “Don’t you ever use your quirk like that again, do you understand me?” Midoriya looked away again. “Am I clear, Midoriya.”
Iida was close enough to feel Midoriya shaking, but his friend jerkily nodded.
“Care to tell me what that was all about?” All-Might asked sternly. “For heaven’s sake, Midoriya, that’s his son in the hospital. What were you thinking, speaking that way to him?”
Midoriya didn’t answer. He was too busy quietly seething. His fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white.
“Deku?” Uraraka said cautiously. “Deku that was… I’m not gonna lie, that was a little scary.”
“I…” Midoriya’s hands shook as he raised them to his face, running them through his hair until his fingers twisted and snagged in his curls. He didn’t look at anyone, but it was easy to see the tears gathering in his eyes.
There probably wasn’t a single student in Class 1-A who was a stranger to Midoriya crying. Midoriya crying was at least a biweekly occurrence. But Iida had never seen Midoriya cry out of anger before.
“Shit.” He breathed the curse out in a hiss, raised his head, and jerked his hands free of his hair. “I’m an idiot, that was stupid, I-” He turned back, and for a moment the anger on his face flickered to something more like fear.
“Midoriya,” All-Might said sternly, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder. But Midoriya shrugged the hand off and broke away.
“I’ll—I’ll be right back, I just need to-” He didn’t bother finishing the sentence. Before any of them had the chance to stop him, he raced back the way he’d come.
“Midoriya, where are you-?” All-Might called after him. He broke off, coughing.
Iida shared a single look with Uraraka, and the two of them took off after their friend.
Izuku cursed himself. He cursed his stupid, blind-idiot temper and his stupid, gigantic idiot mouth.
He’d been about to tell them that he couldn’t explain himself, not fully, not without betraying someone’s trust. It wasn’t his place to tell, and if Todoroki wasn’t more open about it, then that meant he wouldn’t want Izuku running his mouth behind his back.
Which led to the realization that there was probably a reason Todoroki didn’t like telling it around. And the realization that Endeavor probably wouldn’t like it spreading, either.
He forced himself to keep from sprinting; if he got caught running in the hospital hallways, he’d probably get yelled at, and that would slow him up before he had the chance to catch up with Endeavor.
Izuku… did not want to do this. There were many hard, terrible, unpleasant things that he would rather have done. But he had to, and it was his own fault for being a short-sighted idiot.
Relief and dread clashed within him when he spotted Endeavor’s retreating back. He glanced around; it seemed quiet enough here. It would have to be good enough.
Screwing up his courage, he slowed to a brisk walk and took a deep breath. “E-Endeavor?”
The Flame Hero turned, shoulders drawn up aggressively. Izuku could see his eyes flicker about, taking in that he had come alone. Stomach churning, Izuku halted a few meters away from him, buried his dislike and revulsion, and forced his face into a neutral expression.
Endeavor crossed his arms, regarding him with cold, open hostility.
For a moment the words stuck in his throat, but Izuku wrung his hands at his sides and forced himself calm. This wasn’t for him, and it certainly wasn’t for Endeavor. “I would like to apologize, if you’ll let me,” he began, and the thoughts in his head clashed viciously with the words coming out of his mouth. I would rather eat dirt than apologize. He kept his eyes respectfully lowered, unable to look at Endeavor’s face. “About what I said before…” I meant every word. “It was uncalled for, and undeserved.” It was called for, and you deserve it and so much more. “I… I overheard something out of context, and I jumped to conclusions. That was foolish of me.” I know exactly what the context was. “I-I’m afraid for my friend, but that’s no excuse. I should have known better than to let my emotions get the better of me. And for that, I deeply apologize.” That, at least, was true. Izuku bent at the waist and bowed low, hating what he was doing, glad that Endeavor couldn’t see the look of revulsion on his face. “I’m very sorry that I spoke so unkindly to you during such a difficult time. I promise it won’t happen again.” I won’t be stupid enough to make you angry again, because I can’t trust you not to take it out on him.
After a moment, he straightened again, though he kept his head bowed and focused on Endeavor’s knees instead of his face. For a long time, Endeavor did not reply. Izuku’s heart was in his throat as he waited; would it work? Was that enough to appease him?
“Well,” Endeavor said abruptly, and Izuku tried not to twitch. “You were right about what you said that day, when you told me you weren’t him.” Startled, Izuku finally raised his head, to find Endeavor looking at him with distaste but far less animosity. “All-Might was never this courteous.”
It was petty, and it stung, but Izuku lowered his eyes again and forced himself blank. “It won’t happen again,” he repeated.
“See that it doesn’t.” Endeavor turned on his heel and continued walking.
Izuku stayed still and focused on breathing in and out until he was gone. Once Endeavor’s footsteps had faded, he sagged. His eyes stung, and he could feel himself puddling up again. How much had he cried today? Wasn’t he done yet?
“That was very big of you, Midoriya.”
Izuku started, barely biting back a yelp of surprise. He turned, and found himself staring at Iida and Uraraka as they stepped out from around the nearest corner. They both looked more than a little relieved as they caught up to him.
“I don’t quite know what all that was about,” Iida went on. “But I’m proud of you, Midoriya. It takes a lot of courage to admit a wrongdoing.”
“Yeah, well, some people are cowards,” Izuku blurted, wiping his eyes. “And I don’t want to be anything like them.”
“I’m so relieved,” Uraraka sighed. “I thought we were gonna have to stop you from doing something stupid. No offense.”
In spite of himself, Izuku managed to cough out a laugh. “None taken. Where’s All-Might?”
“I don’t think he could keep up, so-” Iida began. Then, as if on cue, All-Might appeared from a corner and made his way down the hall toward them, at his own easy pace. His steps quickened when he spotted them.
“What was that about?” he asked as he approached them.
“Everything’s okay now, we think,” Uraraka answered brightly. “Deku just apologized to Endeavor—that’s why he ran off.”
“Oh.” There was no missing All-Might’s relief. “Good. That’s good.”
Guilt twisted in the pit of Izuku’s stomach, and shame made his face feel hot. “I’m sorry,” he burst out. “I’m really sorry, All-Might, that was really stupid, and it made you look bad, and I used On- I used my quirk just because I lost my temper, and that was wrong and it won’t happen again, I promise.”
All-Might spent a long moment searching Izuku’s face before he finally sighed. “Well. I was on my way to scold you, but it seems you’ve taken the words out of my mouth already.” He rested his hand on Izuku’s shoulder, making him look up. “Endeavor is a poor enemy to make, my boy. He may be rough around the edges, but he makes a much better ally.”
It felt like the contents of Izuku’s stomach were curdling. He wanted to agree with All-Might, to say “you’re right” and move on, if only to end this conversation. But after what he’d just done, he didn’t have the emotional energy left to compromise over his own feelings.
So instead, he said simply, “I don’t like him.”
All-Might blinked. “And why ever not?”
“That was a rather ungracious thank-you,” Iida remarked quietly. All-Might blinked at him, and he shrugged an apology. “It was.”
“Todoroki’s hurt,” Uraraka reminded him. “Just think, Endeavor must be so scared. Some people just act weird and say rude things when they’re scared.”
“I don’t like him,” Izuku repeated, biting down on the storm of corrections on the tip of his tongue. “For personal reasons. I think…” He was tired. More than anything, he was tired. “I think I’m just gonna head back to the others. You guys go on to the cafeteria if you want, I just…”
“That was only really for your benefit,” All-Might admitted. He looked to the other two. “Unless you two were feeling hungry?”
“No.” Uraraka winced a little. “I overused my quirk a little. I don’t think I’m gonna feel hungry for the rest of today.
“I’m fine as well,” Iida said.
The others were talking quietly amongst themselves when they returned. A few greetings were thrown their way, and Izuku found his way to an empty chair and sank down into it. He tilted his head back, rested it against the back of the seat, and focused on the clean white ceiling. Iida and All-Might sat on either side of him, while Uraraka got drawn into the conversation between Tsuyu and Jirou.
“...still wish we knew how it happened.” Kirishima’s voice floated over to him from where his classmate sat on the floor with Kaminari and Shouji. “I mean, it’s Todoroki. He’s like, one of the strongest people we know. I mean, Ojiro got hurt too, but it wasn’t nearly this bad. I’m kinda wondering what happened to take him down like this.”
“Battles like this are full of confusion,” Shouji pointed out. “Unless there were witnesses, we might not find out at all.”
Wordlessly, All-Might reached over to pat Izuku’s hand comfortingly, and maybe that was what gave him the sudden burst of courage to open his mouth and speak so that all his classmates could hear.
“It was my fault.”
The way the conversations hushed, he knew they’d heard, and he knew that they were probably all looking at him, but he didn’t move. He simply kept staring up at the ceiling, hoping that gravity would keep the damned tears in his eyes.
He couldn’t wax poetic or go into minute detail, or even give them a proper play-by-play. The longer he talked, the more likely it was that he’d cry, and he was sick and tired of crying.
“I needed help, and he showed up,” he went on. His eyes stung, but stayed dry. “We fought together. And then-” His voice caught, and when he blinked, the ceiling above him blurred. “I wasn’t watching my back. He was. But Todoroki—um. He couldn’t shield us both at the same time. Wasn’t fast enough.” His throat burned. “Not his fault. I should’ve been watching.”
He heard Uraraka’s hushed voice whisper, “Oh, Deku.”
“So I was fine, but he—wasn’t,” Izuku said. “I brought him back but I was scared I’d be too slow, too.” He blinked again, and tears spilled from the corners of his eyes. “I thought he was gonna die because of me.”
Silence met his quiet confession. All-Might’s hand rested on his arm, a silent comforting pressure. Izuku didn’t move or try to look at any of them. He didn’t want to see their reactions, or the looks on their faces.
“Damn.” That was Kirishima, his voice hushed with awe. “Damn. Todoroki is hardcore.”
“I disagree!” Iida said sharply. “Not—not about Todoroki being hardcore, though that’s not the word I would have used. But I disagree with what you said, Midoriya, about this being your fault.”
There was a chorus of agreement, so sudden and forceful that it made Izuku look up.
“Of course it’s not your fault.” Jirou looked almost offended by the suggestion.
“They’re totally right, Midoriya,” Kaminari added.
“I’d say it’s nobody’s fault except the villains that attacked you guys,” Sero said.
Izuku gaped at his classmates, helpless and overwhelmed. “I… well, maybe, but I still could’ve-”
“Besides which,” Yaoyorozu interrupted. “It’s not as if you hid behind him, did you?”
Izuku’s throat seized at that. “I’d never-”
“Exactly,” she cut him off again. “And no one here believes that you would. He was the one who made the choice to protect your back, wasn’t he? So it’s not your fault. You didn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to.”
“That’s a sensible way to look at it,” All-Might said, speaking up finally. “As heroes, every one of you will be risking your lives for the good of the people you protect. And that means putting your lives on the line for each other, as well.” He gave Izuku’s arm a comforting pat. “You’re all heroes. You are your brothers’ and your sisters’ keepers, and they are yours. You’re all taking the same risks.” He looked at Izuku, catching his eye.
“I was still slow,” Izuku murmured.
“I can’t be a proper judge of that, since I wasn’t there,” All-Might told him. “However, whatever mistakes you may or may not have made, both you and young Todoroki will survive and recover, yes?”
Izuku nodded.
“Then my advice to you is this,” All-Might said kindly. “Put it down to experience.”
“I’ll… I’ll try.” Izuku shook his head. “I-I mean, of course. I’ll do that. I’ll learn from it.”
“That’s all anyone can ask of you, my boy.”
“Midoriya,” Tsuyu piped up then. Her eyes were bright. “Midoriya, did you really get him back to safety? All by yourself?”
“W-well, I… yes?” Izuku looked away. “I guess.”
This brought on another storm of encouragement, along with a generous helping of praise and a little awe. It was overwhelming, to say the least. But Izuku’s eyes had stopped burning, and the guilt that had twisted into an impossible snarl in his chest was finally beginning to loosen.
The world returned to Shouto one piece at a time.
The first piece was his sense of smell. He knew very well how hospitals smelled, and so the first thought in his gradually-waking mind was that he was in a hospital, even though he was still too groggy to remember why.
More came to him gradually. The stiffness of sterile sheets, the whir of machinery, and hushed voices. Familiar hushed voices.
Not familiar in a way that made his chest clench and filled him with dread; familiar in a way that made him relax even deeper into the mattress beneath him.
At last he opened his eyes.
He wasn’t alone. Three more shapes were there, and as his vision came back into focus, he recognized them. Yaoyorozu and Uraraka were sitting nearby, heads together over a book—classwork? And slightly closer, nodding over a textbook in his lap—
Relief filled him, which only made him drowsier.
He must have moved, or breathed differently, or done something, because in the next moment, Midoriya was sitting up straight, nearly spilling the book to the floor. “Todoroki?”
The girls hushed and looked over, relieved smiles breaking out over their faces. Shouto stared at them in faint bewilderment before turning his eyes back to Midoriya.
“You’re alive,” was the first thing out of his mouth.
Uraraka giggled.
Midoriya managed a lopsided grin at him. “You sound surprised.”
“I…” Shouto blinked blearily as memories slowly returned. “I passed out. Couldn’t be sure you didn’t do anything… stupid.”
“That’s fair,” Midoriya conceded.
“I’ll go tell the others.” Yaoyorozu got to her feet. “Good to see you’re all right, Todoroki.”
Shouto managed to nod.
“Oh, wait up, I’ll come with you,” Uraraka offered, and the girls left their books on the chairs to hurry out of the room.
“Who else is here?” Shouto managed to ask.
“Uh, kind of the whole class at this point,” Midoriya replied, setting aside his textbook. “Ever since they finally started letting us in to see you. Plus All-Might, and Aizawa-sensei’s been checking in, too, now that everybody else who was injured is okay now.”
“Anyone else?” Shouto pressed. “Is—is he here?”
Midoriya blinked, and understanding flooded his face. “O-oh. Um… I mean, he comes and goes. He’s been really busy, so he’s not here all the time. Like, not now. He left a while ago.”
Shouto relaxed. “Good.” He shut his eyes briefly, then opened them to look at Midoriya again. “Did he, um… say anything?”
“I, uh…” Midoriya averted his eyes.
“Oh.” Shouto’s heart sank. It wasn’t like he’d expected a good answer to that question. “Did he talk to anyone?”
“Well, to All-Might,” Midoriya answered cautiously. “And… and to me, a little.”
“What’d he say?”
“Just… he heard about, um, that I was the one that brought you in,” Izuku said. “And I guess he… thanked me? Sort of?”
“Oh.” He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“And, I, um… well, I’ll tell you later.”
“Tell me what.” Suddenly he felt more awake. Maybe it was the guilty look on Midoriya’s face, or the idea that his father had been talking to any of his classmates.
“Well, uh… it wasn’t really…”
“Midoriya.”
“I did do something stupid,” Midoriya blurted out. “I’m sorry, I was really mad and I shouldn’t have said it and I went back and apologized but if Endeavor already didn’t like me before then he definitely doesn’t like me now.”
Dread filled Shouto. “What did you do.”
“I, um. Might have implied that he didn’t care about you being hurt. Beyond being an…” For a split second, Midoriya’s face twisted into a look of distaste. “Investment.”
Shouto closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure what filled him with more dread, the reminder that Endeavor still didn’t quite see him as a person, or the news that Midoriya had called him on it. It was probably the second one; the first one he’d been dealing with all his life. But the knowledge that Midoriya had challenged Endeavor, even if it was for his sake…
Mother used to do that. She’d learned, very quickly, that it was better not to, because it was never her that Endeavor punished for it.
Shouto’s breath hitched a little. Thank God for the dorms. Thank God he didn’t have to go home.
“I’m sorry,” Midoriya whispered.
“It’s… it’s fine. Wait-” He opened his eyes again. “You said you apologized?”
“Oh. Well, yeah.”
Fear and dread had been creeping in on him, the insidious crawling feeling that tightened around his heart until he could barely breathe. But now it was loosening, receding, leaving him calmer and just daring to be hopeful. His throat bobbed as he swallowed the painful lump in his throat. “That couldn’t have been easy.”
“It was…” Midoriya pulled a face. “I don’t want to have to do that again. I bowed so low I almost headbutted the floor like Yoarashi.” That startled a quiet laugh out of Shouto. “I mean I really sucked up, it was pathetic. But I think it got through.”
“…Oh.” The last dregs of fear drained away. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly.
“Of course I did.” Midoriya’s hands curled and uncurled in his lap. “After I snapped at him, I got scared. I didn’t want to get you in trouble with him.”
There was a funny feeling replacing the fear in Shouto’s chest, one that he couldn’t quite name. The closest word he could think of was “gratitude,” but it sounded too shallow in his head.
“I didn’t want to do that to you,” Midoriya went on. “Not after you saved me like that.”
Shouto felt his throat close, which kept him from speaking. So instead he nodded.
“I wanted to say thanks for that,” Midoriya went on. “And… also sorry? I didn’t mean for you to get hurt because of me.”
Speech returned to him then. “It was an easy choice,” he said, and meant it. “Sorry for worrying everyone.”
Midoriya smiled, just as the sounds of their classmates’ voices reached them from the hallway, and for a moment Shouto could only bask wonderingly in how alone he didn’t feel.
He tried, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up feeling so safe.