“Midoriya!”

Izuku’s hands twitched as Uraraka rushed towards him, getting much too close for comfort. He was still on edge from the USJ and seeing Giran again, not to mention Shinsou had almost gotten fired from his job for not showing up when he was visiting him. He was grateful his friend had cared enough to take the risk, but they needed all the income they could get.

“Hey,” Izuku said tiredly.

“We didn’t see you at all after you got taken away by the ambulance! We have to exchange phone numbers!”

As if summoned by the noise, Iida also rose from his seat. “Uraraka! It is disrespectful to yell in a classroom setting!”

Izuku blinked. “You’re even louder than her.”

While Iida tried to respond, Uraraka shoved her phone at him. “Put your number in.” She ordered.

There was basically no point in doing so, seeing as his was a burner and Izuku would never be stupid enough to have something that could be used to track him but-

Well it would be weird if he didn’t. It wasn’t like he had a good non-suspicious excuse. Something told him saying sorry I can’t. I’ve gotta keep the international criminal organization off my back wouldn’t go over well.

Obediently typing his temporary number in, Izuku made his way to his seat, waving off his classmates’ concerns over the brace on his leg. “The doctors say I’ll heal with no complications.” That seemed to assuage the majority of them, and those who were undeterred soon had to sit down anyway as Aizawa entered the room.

He still had his arm in a cast, but the bandages on his face had been removed, revealing a new jagged scar across his cheek. He looked tired, but that was nothing new.

“Quiet down.” The room went silent almost instantly. “In light of what happened at the USJ, everyone who was present is getting mandatory therapy from Hound Dog.”

Bakugou scoffed. “I ain’t some weakass bitch who needs t-!”

Aizawa’s glare cut him off, red eyes flashing. Looks like he knows his Quirk is back. “There is no weakness in seeing a therapist. There is no weakness in admitting you need help. You all went through something traumatic and there is no shame in being affected by that.” He met each of their gazes, lingering on Izuku just a millisecond longer. “You’ll get an email telling you your appointment times. If you miss an appointment without a legitimate reason or warning than you will get a warning. Do it up to three times and you may be removed from the Hero Course.”

Whispers erupted after the statement, only to be disappear as Aizawa narrowed his eyes.

“Not to mention, you’re not even out of the woods yet.”

Oh for fucks sake-

“The Sports Festival is coming up, and you all need to be ready.”

Ignoring the excited murmurs, Izuku slumped further into his seat. That whole event was going to be such a pain. He already knew he couldn’t get out of participating and preforming low enough so that he got knocked out immediately would be suspicious to those who already had an inkling of his abilities. The best he could do was just try not to draw too much attention to himself. The last thing he needed was someone recognising him and being able to track him down. U.A.’s Sports Festival was public for some stupid reason, so there would be no hiding.

“Is that safe though? What if the Villain’s attack again?” Yaoyorozu questioned.

Aizawa let out a sigh. “The security is being upgraded. If they do attack they’ll be faced with much more firepower than they were at USJ. You’ll be safe.”

Ha! Izuku’s never been safe a day in his life.

He essentially tuned out the rest of class-it wasn’t like he didn’t know most of these subjects anyway and only really started paying attention when Uraraka stared yelling again.

Why is everyone always so loud?

“Let’s do our best at the Sports Festival!” Uraraka pumped her fist in the air, a determined gleam in her eye.

Iida waved his arm aggressively. “Yes! It is important that we represent U.A. properly!”

“All you losers are gonna eat my dust!” Bakugou snarled, slamming the door open with much more force than necessary. “Haah?! What the fuck are you extras doing?!”

Standing in front of the doorway was a crowd of other students, another blond boy standing at the forefront. Izuku couldn’t see Shinsou’s trademark purple hair and considered just making a break for it. He could probably make it out the window.

“My, my, I guess class 1A is filled with arrogant assholes.” The leader drawled. “Guess you don’t deserve the hype.”

Uraraka frowned. “What’s going on?”

The more explosive blond sneered. “Isn’t it obvious? The useless bastards have come to scope out the competition. Not that it’ll help.” It didn’t surprise Izuku that the crowd parted to let Bakugou leave, Kirishima, Mina, Sero, and Kaminari on his tail.

“Keep that attitude up while you still can!” The other blond announced. “Class 1B will beat you all at the Sports Festival, so watch your backs!”

No, the window probably wouldn’t work. Izuku slowly shuffled himself to the front of the door. “Are you done?”

“And nothing will stand in our-what?”

Izuku blinked slowly at him. I need a nap. “I want food. Are you done doing-” he made a vague half hearted gesture. “Whatever this is?”

That had apparently been the wrong thing to say, because the boy seemingly swelled with rage. “I guess I should have expected such rudeness from class 1A. Don’t think that just because you fought actual Villains that you’re better than us!"

Izuku stilled. “Excuse me?” His voice was little more than a whisper.

Ignorant of the danger around him, the blond continued. “I bet you wanted the Villains to attack. That way you could get free publicity and free exposure. Honestly, how arrogant can you be?”

A frigid ice spread its way from Izuku’s center through the rest of his limbs.

Momo Yaoyorozu was smart.

She had to be, to use her Quirk with any semblance of usefulness. She had textbooks upon textbooks memorized, could tell you the molecular make up of just about anything, and had gotten in U.A. from recommendations.

Momo was smart, and that was why, when she saw Midoriya go very, very, still after a boy from class 1B had started ranting, she grabbed Jiro and tried to drag her out of the danger zone.

The first time she’d seen him fight, something about the way he moved had bothered her. At first, she dismissed it, but the thought wouldn’t leave her alone, so she picked apart his Battle Trial over and over until she could recite the whole thing backwards and-

And she realized now, what she hadn’t been able to place.

While Midoriya was far from the only strong fighter in class-Bakugou’s massacre of a fight and Todoroki’s overwhelming victory had made that clear-the latter two boys had been fighting to win, aiming to subdue their opponents. It became clear to her now that Midoriya’s blows had been aiming to kill.

If Mineta’s head had been just the slightest bit higher, Midoriya would have crushed his windpipe, and he very well could have suffocated before anyone would have been able to save him.

And as Midoriya stared at the blond, Momo felt dread creep through her, the same dread she had felt during the Battle Trials, only amplified.

The fact that he hadn’t moved somehow only made it worse.

“Arrogant?” Midoriya asked, expression deceivingly light. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Before the blond could do more than open his mouth, Midoriya continued.

“We were in a life-threatening situation with very little training, facing adults who had no qualms killing us. We didn’t ask for that to happen. We didn’t open the doors and invite them inside.”

Seemingly taken aback, the blonde’s eyes widened before narrowing sharply and spitting out, “Oh please, there were Pro Heroes on the scene. Freaking All Might was there. How dangerous could it have possibly been?”

Midoriya rocked back on his heels, his posture slouched and non-threatening, but you would have to be blind not to see the predator lurking in his gaze. “Eleven.”

The leader blinked. “What?”

“It took eleven minutes for both Eraserhead and Thirteen to be incapacitated. Another fifteen before All Might arrived. Do you know, what can happen in fifteen minutes?”

The hall and class were dead silent.

“You can bleed out in less than fifteen minutes, you can break over half the bones in your body. You can die. In a fight, fifteen minutes is an eternity. You can see your classmates slaughtered around you. We had been separated, we had no idea if anyoe else was alive.”

Midoriya stalked forward, leaning right into the blonde’s personal space.

 “I had been sent to the shipwreck zone, full of aquatic Villains and water deeper than anyone with a non-related Quirk would be able to swim.”

A chilling smile made its way onto Midoriya face.

“By the time the Pro Heroes arrived, I had more blood on my costume than water, and you know what?”

He whispered something into the other boy’s ear, causing the latter to go paper white.

Midoriya patted the blonde’s shoulder. “We should probably head to lunch now. We wouldn’t want to not have enough time to eat.”

Yes, Momo is smart, and that’s why she’s going to be staying as far away as possible from Izuku Midoriya.

Hitoshi was used to people being afraid of him.

It had been a staple in his life ever since he’d gotten his Quirk. Even his parents had carried that fear inside of them-for all it stopped them from hitting him-and there had been times, more than he wanted to admit, that he had thought about proving them right. Thought about ordering his parents to walk into traffic or telling his bullies to destroy their own possessions.

He'd always been able to talk himself off of that ledge, to reign himself in before he crossed a line he knew he’d regret.

As Midoriya sat in the bathroom, knees curled to his chest and hands fisted in his hair, he knew that for the first time, he’d have to do that for someone else.

“Use your Quirk on me.”

Hitoshi blinked. “What?”

Midoriya’s wild eyes met his. “Use. Your. Quirk. On. Me. If I have full control right now, I am going to hurt someone.”

“Are you sure?”

Midoriya snarled and the bathroom began to shake. “Yes.”

That was all Hitoshi needed. Grasping the mental string that appeared, he activated his Quirk.

The shaking stopped.

Hitoshi had only caught the latter part of the confrontation, but had gathered enough to know that the blonde boy was way out of line, practically blaming class 1A for getting attacked. As someone who had seen one of the victims in a hospital, who had witnessed Midoriya wake up screaming the night he'd been discharged, it made his blood boil.

He could only imagine what Midoriya must be feeling.

Hitoshi had never had a friend before Midoriya, had never had to comfort anyone beyond himself, so he wasn’t quite sure what to do, what to say.

“I think…if I hadn’t ran away I would be a Villain at this point.” That was not what he’d been planning to say, but it was too late to back out now.

There was this…strange unspoken rule between the two of them. Midoriya never questioned why Hitoshi had run away, though he probably suspected, and Hitoshi never asked why Midoriya had more forged documents than a corrupt politician and no place to stay. Hitoshi hadn’t dug around, when Midoriya had explained that his uncle had escorted him out of the hospital, hadn’t asked why he wasn’t living with him.

They didn’t owe anyone an explanation, even each other, and they were fine with that. They were still friends.

Now, seeing Midoriya on the edge of something, and not fully understand why, Hitoshi knew he needed to speak up.

“My mom has a Quirk that lets her read peoples thoughts for three seconds after they respond to her, and my dad can implant suggestions in animals. No one was expecting my Quirk to be so strong.”

Midoriya couldn’t answer like this, but Hitoshi knew he could hear him.

“I couldn’t control it well as a kid, so my dad told me that if I couldn't control it I wasn't allowed to talk at all. My mom would read my mind and use my angry thoughts as an excuse to lock me in my room. They said that they were preventing a future Villain."

An old familiar rage crept through him.

“School was another hell entirely, but at least most of the kids there were too scared to fight me physically. As time went by every little thing I did was used as an excuse as punishment.”

There was a reason Hitoshi had insomnia, and it wasn’t a medical condition. More often than not, if he fell asleep in his room, one of his parents would come barreling in to destroy something of his. Weekends had been the worst, because their drinking was that much heavier.

“Two days after I graduated middle school my mother started wailing on me worse than usual, so I used my Quirk to make her stop. My dad saw what happened and said that if he ever saw me again he would call the police on me. I didn’t try coming back after that.”

The first few weeks had been horrible, and Hitoshi knew the only reason he hadn’t died was because of his Quirk. It had been vital in convincing some people to leave him alone.

“I found the warehouse and just figured things out from there.” Hitoshi’s voice was rough, but he refused to cry about people who had never loved him, never thought of him as more than a potential threat. “I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to hurt them, wanted to give them a real reason to be afraid. If I had stayed…I think I would have.”

It…hurt, to admit out loud, having spent so long refusing that he would ever become a Villain. If he had told someone else, well, then he was just proving them right, wasn’t he? More than anything else, he wanted to be a Hero, but there had been days, and there still were days, that Hitoshi considered just…stopping. Stop pushing the boulder uphill, stop refuting every comment, stop reigning himself in.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what he’d become if he did.

A sudden strain appeared on his connection to Midoriya. It was very slight, and similar to the one he’d felt when Hitoshi had first used his Quirk on him.

“Do you want me to release you?” He asked.

The strain doubled, making him wince.

Releasing the connection was easy, and Midoriya’s eyes lost their blank look. Hitoshi slowly slid down the wall, sitting close enough that he could feel the other’s body heat.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said into the silence. “I didn’t-I didn’t say all that to make you feel obliged to-to tell me anything.”

Midoriya looked up. “I-I can’t tell you. Not right now.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything. Ever.” Hitoshi said, shifting so that he could wrap an arm around the smaller teen.

Midoriya’s smile was heartbreakingly sad. “I will. One day.”

And that promise was more than enough.

Neito Monoma had been confronted before.

He’d had people yell, berate, and scold him people, more physically intimidating than a freckled boy who looked like a strong wind could knock him over.

Yet no one had ever made him feel quite so threatened.

Neito wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, especially one from 1A.

“By the time the Pro Heroes arrived, I had more blood on my costume than water, and you know what?” The boy’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It wasn’t mine.”