A/N:

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So, uh... nice... weather we're having? *sips tea*. I am SO SORRY that I've been gone for so long. For those of you who aren't part of my Discord, I'm sure you've been worried. I promise I'm fine. Overworked, but okay. I got a seasonal promotion at work about 9 months ago, and things have been H E C T I C. My schedule's been flickering between days and nights and I feel like I've snagged as much sleep as Aizawa chasing after Viridian.

That aside, I want to thank everyone for your patience! I'm actively working on my stories again (my interview for the permanent spot is tomorrow!! Send me good luck please!!) and I hope to have at least one of my mainstream bnha fics updated for the holidays, so keep an eye on your inbox! ;)

For those of you who are unaware, I have a discord! You can join us here [ https://discord.gg/zgqMjcBqRx ] if you'd like! Lurkers are welcome. :) By joining, you might also get sneak peeks at future updates or unpublished stories, so drop by if you're interested.

Lastly, thank you everyone for your patience and dedication! I am still working on stories like Viridian, Swan Dive, Instinct, and more, so keep your chin up! I hope you enjoy this little oneshot. :) Happy Reading!

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Summary

It was one little thing that pushed Izuku over the edge. One tiny change that brought his situation to Nezu's attention. One single visit from a hero to his middle school that changed everything.

Looking back on it, Midoriya Izuku would wonder if it was fate. He wasn't necessarily one to believe in destiny, but if events had lined up just slightly to the left, things never would've worked out so well. One little change—one tiny thing that sent him over the edge—was all it took.

Izuku was no stranger to bullying. He'd been bullied for most of his life—ever since he was diagnosed as Quirkless at age four. Over the years he grew used to being shoved in the hallways, ignored or unfairly judged by teachers, and even beat up by the other kids. There were many things he'd grown accustomed to—most of which would make a Quirked child balk. But it was normal for him—expected, even—because he was Quirkless.

Useless.

Worthless.

Unwanted.

Defective.

But there were some lines that just ought not to be crossed. Some lines that even Izuku knew were forbidden territory—Quirkless or otherwise.

He'd had a really shitty day. Hell, he'd had a fucking shitty week. His mother was working long hours again. He hardly ever saw her anymore. She wasn't even home after his televised villain attack, and had only received a simple text asking if he was all right.

Beyond that, All Might's words kept echoing in his mind, right alongside Kacchan's. Despite the fact that he'd saved the blonde, he couldn't help but loop both All Might's devastating answer and Kacchan's horrible advice in his mind. After all, he really had done nothing during the second Slime Villain encounter, hadn't he?  ̶H̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶d̶.̶ ̶T̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶o̶e̶s̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶d̶o̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶K̶a̶c̶c̶h̶a̶n̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶'̶v̶e̶ ̶d̶i̶e̶d̶—̶

So one would have to forgive Izuku for being skeptical of the hushed silence as he walked into the classroom that Monday. Muffled snickers and eager glances were the only things that told him to expect something bad—perhaps as bad as that time he found a dead bird mutilated on his desk with broken wings.

He knew by now to expect graffiti on his desk telling him to disappear and never return. To expect 'gifts' and even nasty notes or damaged belongings that'd gone missing the week prior. He took a breath and lifted his gaze, as prepared as he felt he would get for whatever sorry excuse for a joke his classmates had decided to subject him to.

But he wasn't ready. He thought the bird back in second year had been bad—and it had been, even the teacher knew they'd gone too far that time and it was the only time Izuku could ever remember a teacher lecturing the class about boundaries—but this? In a sense, this was worse.

At first, he wasn't quite sure if what he was seeing was real. But there it sat, in a beautiful crystalline vase with tints of vermillion—a red spider lily. In fact, there was a whole damn bouquet of them.

He felt himself pale and flush with anger at the same time. Izuku had put up with many, many things. But that?

That was a line.

For the first time in a long time, he felt angry. It wasn't right. Why was he the only one who had to endure this?! What, just because he couldn't pull his eyes out of their sockets?!

"Stop causing a distraction, Midoriya. Take your seat." The teacher scowled lightly. "Oh, and keep the vase." There was something nasty in his voice at that. It seemed even the teacher had participated this time. Something in Izuku snapped.

"This is wrong." He stated softly, voice trembling with anger. Kacchan's eyes flitted between him and the flowers with something like surprise—like even he thought this was a bit much. Ironic, considering the blonde had told him quite directly to off himself just a few days beforehand.

"What was that? Are you talking back to me?" The teacher's voice dipped into a dangerous tone, but for once Izuku took no heed.

"This is wrong!" Izuku glared, startling several people. "Why is any of this okay?! Yeah, I'm Quirkless, but I'm still a human being!" He was shouting now. For some reason, he didn't really care. It was too much—all of it was just too much. Ten years of festering anger and humiliation was swelling within him, and he felt like nothing could stop the torrent of emotion bursting from him. "I am alive and have the same emotions as the rest of you! If anyone else was treated this way, there'd be court fees and suing and all kinds of interventions, but why is this okay when it's me?! Just because I don't have a Quirk?! Fuck you!"

There was utter silence in the classroom as Izuku panted for breath, his glare burning holes into the teacher who stood at the front. It was the first time Izuku had ever stood up for himself. The first time he'd ever snapped under a decade of pressure and bullying. The first time in his memory that he'd spoken his mind.

And... it felt good.

Even Iwatsu-sensei seemed taken aback by his uncharacteristic outburst. After a moment, something in his expression hardened, and Izuku instinctively stiffened. "Midoriya." His voice was smooth and low, holding an edge of fury and glee, almost like he'd been waiting for this moment. Izuku's body suddenly fell into fight or flight mode. This didn't bode well for him. "I believe there's been a... misunderstanding here." He activated his Quirk, reaching his hand towards the back of the classroom to the locked cabinet. "You may be... human," he hissed the word with disdain, as if sharing a species with Izuku was personally insulting, "but you are not like the rest of us. You are lesser. A few rungs short of the evolutionary ladder. That alone makes you negligible in society's eyes. We are merely preparing you for what the world is like out there. We're doing you a kindness. Do not delude yourself into thinking you deserve the same things people get."

"I—" Izuku's protest fell short when he saw the hand retract, holding an object he'd only ever seen in videos of hero rescues—the kind where they rescued people who'd been sold as slaves, or trafficked.

It was a muzzle. A child-sized muzzle. Izuku was pretty sure they were illegal. They were labeled as torture devices in several countries, and he was certain the only places someone could get ahold of one in Japan involved many shady connections. So... how did his teacher...?

More snickers echoed around the room, and Izuku's momentary bravery—snatched from the coals of his fury—flickered and died in the face of this new fear. "N-no." He took a step back, but the man's hand had already closed the door behind him. Familiar panic swirled in his chest.

"You need to learn your place, Midoriya." He stepped closer. Izuku's vision narrowed until all he could see was the muzzle.

"HEY!" Kacchan's voice broke the trance Izuku was in, and he sank to the floor in a mixture of emotions he didn't dare name. "The fuck are you doing?! Even Deku doesn't deserve that!" It was good to know Kacchan still had some kind of moral compass. The blonde was out of his seat and shielding Izuku in less than a second.

Iwatsu-sensei gave him a sour, disappointed look. "You must understand, Bakugo. This is for his own safety. If Midoriya were to spout such nonsense in the real world, he'd be killed. I'm merely... teaching him manners."

"The fuck." Kacchan snarled, hands braced at his sides and fingers slightly splayed like he was ready to use his Quirk. "That's too damn far."

"On the contrary, it's exactly what he needs. We can break that annoying muttering habit of his while we're at it. Now step aside."

"No." There was a rage bubbling under the deceptive calmness of his voice—a tone Izuku had only heard twice in his entire life. It was a protective fury that Izuku wasn't sure he'd ever hear from him again. "No, I will not step aside. If you put that fucking thing on him, I'll call a hero right fucking now."

Iwatsu-sensei's frown deepened. "I didn't want to do this to my star student, Bakugo, but you're giving me no choice. Detention for disobeying a teacher." There was a breathless moment of utter silence. Never had Bakugo Katsuki gotten in trouble with a teacher before.

"Fucking fine! Give me a damn detention, then! I still won't let you fucking do this!" A few pops from his palms made Izuku flinch lightly.

"If you continue on, I'll have no choice but to take further disciplinary action. It will go on your permanent record, and that will heavily affect your chances at UA." The words were stern and Kacchan flinched, color draining from his face at the threat.

There was a high chance the teacher was bluffing. Everyone knew that the entire staff of Aldera wanted bragging rights of one of their students becoming a Hero through UA. But on the other hand, this was Izuku. The most hated student in the school. Kids with high academic scores had been expelled for trying to befriend him, so there was still a chance that this wasn't a bluff.

"You wouldn't." Kacchan snarled, but there was a waver to his tone now. A hesitance in his voice.

"I would." Iwatsu-sensei suddenly looked very cold. "There will always come another child with a Quirk just as good as yours. You are an amazing student, but you are not our only option."

Izuku looked between the two, shoving his fear as far back into his mind as he dared. "Kacchan. Go sit down."

The blonde whipped around, shock evident in his face. "What?"

"I'll be fine." He tried to smile. "It's just like a facemask. I'll be okay." He was lying through his teeth, but Izuku couldn't ask Kacchan to give up his shot at UA for him. He'd never be able to live with himself if he took away his childhood friend's shot at their dream.

Iwatsu briskly walked past Kacchan, who was still numb with shock, staring at Izuku with bright red eyes like he'd never seen him before. A moment later, the muzzle was on his face before he even had time to register what was going on.

There was an instinctive raw panic as the muzzle was tightened around his face—he was certain that it wasn't supposed to be this tight. The soft velvet cushions pressed uncomfortably against his cheeks and nose, while another cushioned brace was cinched beneath his jaw—preventing him from opening his mouth. A thick wall of plush pressed against his lips and chin, preventing him from even murmuring through the muzzle—barely able to breathe properly.

A clicking sound from behind him had him freezing as his teacher finally retracted his hands, holding the key with a smug grin. Kacchan fumed and looked like he had half a mind to keep arguing when the teacher leveled him with a stern look. "Bakugo. I understand that this situation displeases you. And you'd be right to be furious if this was a Quirked child, but it is not. The sad truth of the matter is that Midoriya is Quirkless. If he spouts such ideals out there among villains and other people who aren't as understanding as this class is, he would find himself dead... or worse. Now go take your seat."

Kacchan's jaw was clenched so tightly that Izuku could see the muscles bulge beneath his skin. He knew the signs, the tells of his best friend before he blew something up. He already had a detention, Izuku wasn't about to let this go to waste.

Izuku reached for Kacchan's hand hesitantly, and the moment those red eyes landed on him, they softened tremendously. The fight in his eyes simmered down to something manageable and Izuku felt something warm in his chest. This... was new. This wasn't the same Kacchan that'd told him to leap off a building last week. This was the Kacchan that had initially earned his nickname. This was Izuku's brother.

He gently tugged him towards their seats, fighting the panic that swirled within him. Kacchan shifted his hand to grasp Izuku's back, and gave a soft squeeze. There were no words exchanged between them—not that Izuku could speak at the moment—but there didn't need to be.

Kacchan sent their teacher the most hateful glare Izuku had ever seen a person make as they retook their seats. The blonde made a point of taking the vase off Izuku's desk and setting it on his own, shooting a fierce glare around the room to ensure nobody said a thing about it.

Iwatsu gave a sigh, as if this entire thing had been a mere inconvenience to him. "Now that that's all taken care of, let's get started with homeroom, shall we?"

Izuku clenched a fist under his desk. If Iwatsu was willing to go this far just to get Izuku to shut up, then he really didn't want to know what else the man was capable of. He was sure Kacchan had come to the same conclusion as well.

Izuku made a point of glaring at his teacher all throughout class. It was the first time he didn't bother taking notes.

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By the time the lunch bell rang, Izuku's jaw was aching. His teeth throbbed in time with his heartbeat and he'd finally figured out a somewhat less uncomfortable way to breathe through his nose with the fabric of the muzzle pressed so tightly against his face.

Iwatsu-sen—no, he wasn't a man Izuku considered a teacher anymore. Iwatsu had left the room without a second glance Izuku's way, so he knew that any hope of being freed from the hellish contraption was zilch. Looked like his lunch would go to waste. At least he couldn't smell too well with the muzzle on.

Kacchan had stayed behind, sitting in the empty classroom with Izuku. "This isn't right." His voice broke softly. "I... why is this...?"

Izuku gave a sad smile, unseen through the fabric of his muzzle. He grabbed a piece of paper and started writing. 'It's always been this way. Haven't you noticed? I've never been human to them.'

The blonde's hands trembled as he read the page. "That doesn't make it fucking right!"

'And yet... you've never done anything before.' He couldn't pretend that he held the same trust he used to for Kacchan. There was a time in his life where he would've trusted the blonde with his very soul, but now he wouldn't even trust him with his back. Not after all the hell he'd been put through. Not when those same hands had scarred his skin more times than he could count.

The blonde's expression fell the moment he read the paper. "I..."

'I don't want an answer now.' Izuku shoved it in front of his face with one hand while scribbling away with the other, making use of the speed his penmanship had gained over years of Quirk Analysis. 'I want you to think about everything these last ten years have been. For me. For us. I will give you one last chance. After what you said, you're lucky I'm giving you that much.'

He flinched violently as he read, a look of surprise flickering across his face before something like determination settled in his expression. He didn't say anything, but he did give him a firm nod.

The rest of the day, Kacchan kept any bullies away from him. He watched with baleful eyes as their teacher removed the muzzle at the end of the day, and all but shoved a sandwich in his arms before walking home alone. Izuku wondered what his answer would be.

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The muzzle became the norm. He'd arrive to class, get muzzled, suffer through the day—unable to even eat lunch due to the hellish contraption on his face—and be forced to wait until anywhere from ten minutes to an hour after school until his teacher decided to take the muzzle off. Though the latter had only happened once, when Kacchan left school after Izuku silently assured him he was okay to go on ahead. It was the only time he'd left Izuku before seeing the muzzle come off.

Kacchan's answer came on Saturday, after school had ended. Japan as a whole only had Sundays off from school. It was only one day, but he'd take whatever he could get. Of course the special schools like UA had two days for a weekend, and Izuku silently envied that.

They were walking home when he finally brought it up. The blonde had been a permanent fixture to Izuku's side all week, keeping other bullies at bay and snarling at any teacher that tried to force punishment on Izuku.

"I'm sorry." It was spoken so softly that he almost didn't hear it.

"What?" Izuku's own voice was starting to go quiet. His jaw was starting to give him some aches and pains, and the metal bits on the sides that weren't padded were starting to create cuts on his cheeks. If he opened his mouth too wide, the scabs would break and he'd start bleeding again—of course, it was pointless when the muzzle made things worse every time it was put back on.

"I said I'm sorry." Kacchan shouted, eyes wrenched shut to keep what looked like tears at bay. "I never should've treated you the way I did! Damnit, I'm just like them!"

They were words Izuku had never thought he'd hear. Never did he think Kacchan would ever apologize to him. Before he could even think of formulating a response, the blonde continued.

"The hell kind of hero hurts someone? You've... that look in your eyes... it wasn't you looking down on me. You were afraid of me." His voice dropped to a heartbroken whisper. "That day in the classroom... Those words were a mistake the moment I said them, and I knew it. I... I was just so angry and I didn't think. It's not an excuse. Nothing can excuse that, but... But I owe you an apology. And... I owe you a thanks. For saving me from that Slime villain."

Tears rolled thickly down Izuku's cheeks. "Kacchan." The name was whispered with the same warmth of their childhood days.

"Zukkun." He gave a watery smile. "I wasn't there for you when I should've been. But I'll be here for you now." He held out a fist between them. "You and me, right? Heroes together, like we always planned?"

He blinked rapidly to clear his vision as he let his fist rest against Kacchan's. "Yeah. I'll be the world's first Quirkless Hero. A-and you'll be the Number One. I'll go Underground and hit the number one rankings there."

"Yeah, with your big brain and creepy analysis shit you can definitely go that route." Kacchan smirked. "C'mon. Let's get those wounds on your face treated before the old hag gets home."

Maybe... maybe things might actually turn out okay.

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It was Sunday. The one day Izuku didn't have to go to school. His mother was working long hours again, so he was able to hide the marks on his cheeks from her. He wasn't sure what she'd do if she saw it, but he knew the results of it wouldn't be pretty for him. The last time he'd let her try to fix the issues he had at school, the teachers had locked him in the closet and lied to her about how Izuku was the one that started all the trouble, or how he was just misunderstanding the situation because he was too fragile to handle even a playful shove.

Of course, that was back when she'd pretended to care.

He couldn't do this. He didn't want to go back to school. He didn't want to be muzzled and bullied and suicide baited. He was sick of only seeing his mother once every month or two—he knew she just didn't want to deal with him and his problems.

He was sick of existing. Of living in this hell. No matter what he did, nothing was...

"Enough." He slapped his cheeks as he tried to keep his mind from wandering down the same old paths. His voice was quiet—his jaw would have long-term issues if this muzzle thing kept up. His sores and wounds on his face from the contraption were only going to get worse, and finally understood what the online forums meant when they mentioned muzzle scars.

He padded over towards the radio. He loved listening to Present Mic's show—he'd been a frequent caller as a young child. He hadn't listened to it since that day with the Slime Villain, but maybe the familiarity would do him some good. He didn't feel like bugging Kacchan tonight. Not when they'd hung out earlier that day.

And wasn't that a strange and thrilling concept? That the two of them could just hang out like they used to without injury? Izuku had even hesitantly shown Kacchan the page he'd made in his notebook of his explosive Quirk and the different ways he could utilize it and improve it. And Kacchan had asked for a copy.

But even a little good in his life didn't erase over a decade of bad. Izuku glanced at the clock as music filled the room. He was tuning in right in the middle of the caller segment—which was always dappled with song requests and oldies that took Izuku back to better days—days before Quirks and burns and bruises and pop, pop, pop—

"Aaand you're live! Welcome to Put Your Hands UP! Radio!" Present Mic's voice smoothly sliced through his thoughts, and Izuku felt a smile creep on his face.

"Yes, I have a question for you." The caller was a woman. She sounded stern and none-too-happy.

"Go right ahead!" Of course, Mic didn't falter in the least.

"You are a teacher at UA High, correct?"

"That's right! I teach English!" The hero's grin was audible, and Izuku took a moment to fantasize about being able to attend the school—to be taught English by Present Mic. He wondered what other heroes worked as teachers there? Some weren't listed on the online site due to privacy and security concerns, which told him there was at least one Underground hero on their payroll.

"Yes, well... My daughter was thinking about going there, but there's one issue. I hear your school accepts... Quirkless applicants." Izuku froze at the far-too-familiar tone in her voice. "But... that's just a publicity stunt, right? You don't actually accept those things."

It was the longest pause Izuku had ever heard from the Voice Hero. His hand hovered over the channel button. He should turn it off. He should switch the dial before yet another hero was ruined for him, just like All Might—

"Miss." Mic's voice was... off. Off in a way Izuku had never heard before. If he had to guess, he would call it... almost angry. "UA is open to all children who are willing to go Plus Ultra. Quirk or no Quirk. And yes, we do have Quirkless students, and we are proud of them."

Izuku's heart pounded in his chest. Was he... really hearing this? Was Present Mic... Defending the Quirkless?

"I–"

"I will not tolerate Quirkism on my radio show." Mic's voice was somewhat hard. "They are people just like you and I. So what if they don't have a Quirk? Every child—every person—deserves to be treated equally. I will never judge someone for their Quirk, or lack thereof." There was a beeping sound as the woman hung up. Izuku wasn't sure if Mic had disconnected her, or if she'd disconnected herself, but his breath was caught in his throat.

"Listeners, I'm sorry you had to hear that." Mic was starting to sound like his normal self again, if a bit more subdued. "In light of this, I feel the need to say something. To all of you out there listening—whether you have a Quirk or not—you matter. You are important, even if you may not feel like you are. And if you ever need someone, I'm here for you. Not just me, either! There's tons of heroes that're willing to help you if you're in a tough spot!" There was a pause as he let that settle. "Haha. I think we've gotten off track enough, yeah? Let's play some oldies to get those smiles back!"

And just like that, the show went on. But Izuku wasn't listening to the radio anymore—it was now the background noise he'd initially intended it to be. No, his mind was racing. In all his years as a Quirkless child, he'd never had someone validate him like Present Mic had—even if it was just over the radio like that.

He gently ran his fingers over the wounds that marred his face—something he'd taken to covering up with a facemask when out and about. Things... couldn't continue on like this. He was part of several Quirkless Community Platforms online, and while he'd never had the courage to write anything, he lurked plenty. He knew that the flowers and muzzles were signs of a spike of violence. Every forum had warned against standing up against his peers and teachers, but he hadn't listened.

If things went on like this, he might really die.

The thought frightened him. He didn't want to die.  ̶Y̶e̶s̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶d̶i̶d̶,̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶d̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶l̶i̶v̶e̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶o̶.̶ He wanted to live.  ̶B̶u̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶v̶i̶n̶g̶,̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶e̶x̶i̶s̶t̶i̶n̶g̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶s̶i̶c̶k̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶i̶t̶.̶ He...  ̶H̶e̶ ̶d̶i̶d̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶a̶n̶y̶m̶o̶r̶e̶,̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶k̶n̶e̶w̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶s̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶w̶r̶o̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶ ̶n̶e̶e̶d̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶c̶h̶a̶n̶g̶e̶.̶

He took a deep breath. He needed help. This was beyond whatever he could do. ̶I̶t̶ ̶a̶l̶w̶a̶y̶s̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶,̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶a̶w̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶n̶o̶w̶.̶ But who? Present Mic said he could help, but... but even if he was serious, he couldn't stop Izuku's teachers. Sure, he might be able to arrest Iwatsu, but that wouldn't stop the principal from hiring someone else. It wouldn't stop the other teachers doing the same thing. It wouldn't stop teachers in other schools doing to other kids what was being done to Izuku.

Just like the lady that'd called on the radio—this issue was too widespread. Opinions on Quirkless people were too ingrained in society for one kid to change them. How could he fix that? The more he thought about it, the more his head hurt. Videos would be taken down, and he wasn't good enough with technology to be able to code it or hack it to get them to pop back up. Besides, there was no way he could record everything that went on at school without getting caught. And Izuku was a terrible liar.

Audio recordings might be possible—he could sneak something into his backpack and hope nobody messed with it. It wasn't much, but it was something at least. Still... that wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't do enough. He needed something with impact, something... a message of some kind.

He needed a solid plan. But for as smart as Izuku was, and as adept as he was with Quirk analysis, he was still just a fourteen year old kid. He didn't know how to go about making a plan to change the world.

But... His eyes landed on an old poster he'd snagged from a HeroCon seven years ago. It was a UA Poster. He'd snagged it because that was the year UA first opened its exams to Quirkless kids. There is someone who can...

He took a deep breath and tried to quell the shaking in his hands as he turned towards his computer. "Now or never, Izuku." He muttered to himself. "You can do this. This isn't just for you, it's for all the kids. Every Quirkless person in Japan. You can do this. Worst he can say is no... right?" He released his breath slowly. "Okay. Here goes... literally everything."

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Nezu flicked his tail in interest. He nearly deleted the email before he'd even opened it, almost mistaking it for spam before a gut feeling had him stopping the motion, mouse hovering over the little trash can icon in the corner. There was something about this email that was different. He may not have been a cat, but Nezu was a curious fellow. He shifted his mouse and opened it instead.

Honorable Principal Nezu,

I have no idea how to start this. My name is Midoriya Izuku, and I'm a third-year at Aldera Middle School. I desperately need your help. I am Quirkless. Please hear me out. For years, I've put up with... less than favorable circumstances at my school. Bullying, rampant Quirk usage, negligent teachers... All because I don't have a Quirk. But if this was just about me, I wouldn't even be bothering to write to you. I don't want to just stop this, I want to FIX it. To keep it from happening to other kids like me—not just the Quirkless, but those with weak or villainous Quirks too! Nobody deserves this... but I'm just one kid. I don't know what I can do other than provide you with my story.

Please. You're one of the smartest beings in the world. If anyone can change this corrupt system, it's you. I've attached some audio files (if they send). They're recordings I've managed to get of my treatment at school. You can use them for whatever you need. You don't need to help me, but please... help them. Help the other kids. Don't let them...

I've wasted enough of your time. I'm going to send this before I can second-guess myself again.

Sincerely, Midoriya Izuku.

If Nezu had lips, they'd be thin and white. Instead, his tail was thrashing furiously behind him. "This," he decided, "will not do." He glanced at the screen to his right and pulled up a new email even as he started opening the audio files sent by the child.

A furious wave of anger and indignation overcame him as he listened to what must've been an average day for the child. He couldn't hold back a low growl as he realized that they were using a very illegal item on him as well.

He set his cup of tea down, lest he break it in his anger. Changing the system could wait a while longer. Nezu may not have been human, but he was still a hero. And he had a child to save.

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When Izuku first heard that Aldera was expecting a talent scout from UA, he felt hope flare to life in his soul. He'd heard nothing back from Nezu, nor had he mentioned it to Kacchan at all, but it hadn't even been a week. He knew the principal was an incredibly busy person. There was no saying how often he bothered to check his emails, and there was certainly no obligation to even read Izuku's. Even so, he couldn't help but feel disappointed when his inbox remained empty.

So hearing that a representative from UA was suddenly coming to Aldera of all places—which even the shitty hero schools hadn't sent a talent scout to, that's how bad of a school they were—well, one would have to forgive Izuku for thinking it was due to his email.

Kacchan sent him a pensive look at lunch that day. "Was this you?"

Izuku would've grinned if the muzzle had let him. He nodded eagerly, scribbling on a piece of paper. 'I sent an email to Nezu. I didn't ask for anyone to come here, but I was hoping he could help other kids like me.'

"Hah..." Kacchan dragged a hand down his face. "Knowing you, you didn't go by halves. Did you send him videos or something?"

Izuku pulled a cheap recorder out of his bag sheepishly as the blonde leveled him with a dry look.

"And you didn't think he'd send someone after that because...?"

'First, I wasn't sure if he'd even read the email. Second... well, he wouldn't be the first hero to leave me.'

"The hell does that mean?"

Izuku blinked at him for a long moment before remembering that Kacchan had been away from school that week. His mother's uncle had passed away, so he'd been excused from classes for a whole week, and it just so happened to have been the same week their school got caught in the crosshairs of a villain attack.

'Remember when our school caught fire when you were gone in first year?'

"Yeah, the shitty extras wouldn't shut up about it."

'Well...' Izuku hesitated. The experience had shattered his perception of heroes irrevocably. Did he have the right to do that to Kacchan too?

"Just fucking say it."

'I was locked in the classroom on the second floor. The hero was going to get me out after hearing me call for help, but one of the other kids with him outed me as Quirkless. The hero turned away and left.'

The blonde went still, ruby eyes wide and disbelieving as they flickered across the words on the paper several times, as if hoping he'd misread them. "They... did they really...?"

'Heroes are only human, Kacchan.' Izuku sadly slid the paper towards him. 'Humans have their faults.'

"I'll be better than them." He crumpled the page in his hand until it began to smoke. "I promise you. I'll never leave someone behind if I can save them. No matter what."

Izuku gently rested his head on the blonde's shoulder, closing his eyes as he took in the moment. The silent gratitude floated between them. They stayed like that until the bell rang.

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The week leading up to the UA visit was unlike anything Aldera had been through before. The teachers constantly coached the students on what was and was not okay to say and do around the representative. Reminding them that Quirk usage was definitely not okay unless the representative asked about it, and that 'horseplay' should be kept to a minimum.

They were also under very strict instructions to pretend that Deku did not exist. That Izuku didn't exist. Kacchan was livid with that, but Izuku kept him quiet. The Quirkless boy wasn't sure how he felt, realizing that his teachers were fully aware that the way he was treated was not okay.

He thought that perhaps, in light of the upcoming visit, Iwatsu would stop using the muzzle. After all, if a hero saw those marks surely it would be a bad thing! But he didn't. In fact, Iwatsu-sensei and the other teachers didn't even discourage the regular beat-downs Izuku faced, though Kacchan put a firm stop to any who tried.

That didn't mean a few people didn't occasionally corner Izuku in the bathrooms. At least Kacchan could keep him company while he patched himself up at lunch, and was even starting to ask Izuku how to go about treating certain kinds of injuries. Perhaps it was easier on them both to put it all down to 'experience they'd need as heroes'. That's how Izuku had to think of it at first, too.

He hoped Kacchan wouldn't get used to the reality of his life like Izuku had to.

Finally, the day of the visit came. Kacchan was late that morning. They'd taken to walking to school together, but when Izuku was waiting for him outside his house, the blonde had shouted for him to go on ahead. He'd apparently misplaced something that Izuku hadn't caught, and was going to be a little late.

That had been the start of Izuku's bad feeling. It worsened when he walked into the classroom and Iwatsu had forced the muzzle back on him. Why would he put it on him when the representative was coming today? Even Iwatsu wasn't stupid enough to think that a hero would see this and think it was fine, regardless of if he was Quirkless or not!

"You will be silent." He hissed as he dragged Izuku down into the broiler room. The boy's eyes went wide as panic started to claw at his throat. They weren't seriously going to hide him, were they?!

But that seemed to be exactly Iwatsu's plan. He grabbed a key and jammed it in the lock, using his Quirk to keep himself out of range of Izuku's fierce kicks and wild swings. With a cold glare, he shoved him inside and firmly locked the utility closet. He swore he heard the rattling of chains as well. It was dark and small and Izuku hated it.

"You will not make a sound." Iwatsu hissed through the door. "When the UA representative leaves, we'll let you out... if you behave." A low chuckle accompanied the sound of polished shoes clacking on the floor and Izuku let out a small whimper.

Great. His phone wouldn't even pick up a signal down there. He took as deep of a breath as he was able with the muzzle and buried his face in his knees. His only hope now was that Kacchan would find him.

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Yamada Hizashi was a people person. Through and through, he adored human interaction—thrived on it. He flourished in environments where he could chatter amongst multiple social circles and make people smile. And of all the types of interactions he had experienced, he found he enjoyed working with kids the most.

Perhaps because of this, he found himself eager to take on the role of a talent scout. At least, he would be, had Nezu not informed him of the story behind it. That this school was supposedly hurting kids. So, with his grouch of a husband on speed dial and a rooftop away should anything go wrong, and Recovery Girl on standby at UA in case things were far worse than expected, Hizashi parked his car and walked up the steps of what had to be one of the shittiest middle schools he'd ever seen. And he'd seen Shouta's middle school.

"Ah, welcome! Welcome! You must be the representative from UA!" The man that greeted him was short and squat with a balding hairline and a suit as cheap as his hair dye. A simpering smile accompanied seedy brown eyes, and it took all of Hizashi's hard-earned people skills to smile in the face of someone that every hero instinct within him wanted to punch.

"Yes." He gave a bright grin. "I'm Pro Hero Present Mic!" He, like his husband, didn't like giving out his civilian name to just anyone (though it was admittedly public knowledge if one were to look). He certainly wasn't about to give this man permission to use his actual name.

"It is such an honor. I am Principal Urageki Bisir."

Hizashi filed the name away, idly wondering where the foreign sounding name was from. He listened with half an ear as the principal started the tour, showing him the facilities of the building and introducing him to the staff.

Almost every single staff member rubbed him the wrong way. The only one that seemed halfway decent was the secretary to the principal, who barely even got an introduction. She had a look that Hizashi instantly recognized—someone who felt trapped and scared, like she knew something was wrong but couldn't do or say anything without repercussions. She looked at him like he was a ray of hope in a cold dark world. He often saw the look on victims of domestic violence. The fact that he saw it on a middle school secretary set off several alarm bells in his mind. He mentally noted that he'd need to find a way to speak with her in private later—without the principal hovering over his shoulder like a demented nightmare dog waiting for a treat.

It wasn't until he was introduced to Class 3–A that a different kind of wrongness tickled the back of his mind. Nezu had told him the email was written by a young Quirkless boy named Midoriya Izuku—a third year he was supposed to find and speak with while he was here. Nezu had asked him to check up on the kid and do his best to keep him safe. He was even shown a picture of the boy to make sure he could recognize him in case he was too timid to speak up.

Hizashi had been introduced to all the third year classes thus far, with the exception of this one. The principal had claimed he was 'saving the best for last', and since the other years had a full class (likely because nobody wanted to miss out on the UA representative) he'd assumed the kid would be in class A.

There was no Midoriya Izuku in Class 3–A. But there was an empty desk. His hero instincts curdled at the sight of the pristine desk—it looked new, like nobody had ever used it before. (He couldn't help but feel like they'd put it there just because Hizashi had come).

He went about his script with an easy smile, thanking his natural gift of gab as he spoke about UA and all of its different courses. When the bell rang for lunch, he was swarmed with kids. But the blonde one with red eyes had another look he recognized—the distinct mix of worry and confusion that happened when an important routine was broken without warning. There was also fear and fury in equal measure shining in those ruby eyes. The part that intrigued Hizashi was the fact that he kept looking at the mysterious empty desk.

"You okay, Listener?" Hizashi waved the other kids on as he turned his full attention towards the kid—Bakugo Katsuki, the principal and teacher had eagerly introduced when he'd walked into the room earlier.

The boy's gaze flickered towards Hizashi as if he were just noticing his presence. "He's not here."

"Who?" Hizashi's concern spiked dramatically.

"He's always here. He..." The kid cut himself off when the homeroom teacher—Iwatsu, was it?—came over, and Hizashi found himself mentally cursing the man as his grin tightened slightly.

"I see you've met our star student! Bakugo Katsuki! He's going to be applying to UA next year. He's got the perfect hero's Quirk. Such a model student, really!"

"Shut up." Bakugo growled lowly, bangs shadowing his eyes.

"Now, Bakugo, why don't you introduce yourself to the UA—"

"I said shut up!" The blonde exploded—quite literally, from the palms of his hand. Hizashi's eyes widened in surprise. "Where is he?! Where is Zukkun?! I know he's here! He left before me, but now he's gone! What did you do with him?!"

Hizashi's posture straightened at once. This was not the situation he was expecting at all. Especially when the teacher and principal started stuttering out excuses.

Zukkun... it might've been a nickname for Izuku—the name of the kid who tipped them off about the school. Midoriya Izuku, who was Quirkless.

"Listener. Where is Midoriya Izuku?"

The adults in the room flinched at the name, and something in Hizashi's gut sank like a rock.

"I don't fucking know." Bakugo snarled, shooting an impressive glare at the teachers behind him. "Ask them."

Hizashi's smile nearly morphed into a scowl, and it took every ounce of his hero experience to keep his expression something befitting of his Present Mic image. He dearly hoped that they hadn't done anything to the child other than send him home, but he knew better than to ignore his gut.

"He's been sent home today, that's all." Iwatsu dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. "He wasn't feeling well."

"Bullshit." Bakugo spat. "Zukkun's never missed a fucking day of school in his life. He's fucking here somewhere. You shits did something to him."

Hizashi's gaze sharpened. This was looking to be more worrisome than he'd initially expected. The fact that the staff was trying something under a hero's nose said a lot about how corrupt this place was.

"Check the broiler room." Hizashi's gaze snapped towards the doorway, where the secretary from earlier stood. She ignored the glare from the principal as she strode confidently into the room, but the hero could see her hands trembling like leaves.

"Now hold it here, he has no reaso—"

"You shut your mouth." The woman snapped. "Fire me for all I care, but if you think for one moment I'll let you get away with... with..." She sniffled and held out a key towards Hizashi. "Please help him."

"I'll do everything I can." Hizashi promised as he gently placed a hand on Bakugo's shoulder. "Do you want to come along, Listener?" He had a feeling the boy wasn't going to back down and go home even if Hizashi asked.

"Not even a fucking question." He'd ignore the language considering the situation, but if the kid made it into UA, he'd definitely need to tone it down.

"N-now please see reason, Present Mic!"

"No." Hizashi gave the principal the same smile he gave villains. "I think this little game of talent scout is over, don't you?" Without waiting for a response, he shoved his way past the two adults and strode out of the room. There was a kid who was possibly in danger, and that was something that couldn't wait.

He remembered where the broiler room was from his tour earlier. He took the stairs two at a time, looking around the place with a sharp gaze honed from years of hero work.

"Hello? Is there anyone there?" He called out, turning up his hero grade hearing aids as he held his breath. For a moment, all he heard was silence.

Thump.

Hizashi's head whipped around as his heart froze. "Listener?"

Thump, thump, thump—

"Those fucking—" He tuned out the cursing of the explosive blonde as he followed the near frantic thumping sounds. They led him to a utility closet locked with a padlock and chains. His breath hitched as he pulled out his hero-grade foldable bolt cutters from his pocket.

"Hang in there. I'm a hero—I'll get you outta there in just a second." He could hear what sounded like muffled sobs, but there was something wrong with the sound—something that burned the back of his mind like a bad memory.

With a loud clatter, the chains fell away. He distantly heard the sound of yelling and hurried footsteps behind him—likely the rest of the staff having been rallied by the principal, who'd vanished as he'd headed for the broiler room—but he hardly registered that.

Because Hizashi had finally found Midoriya Izuku, and this was far worse than he could've ever imagined. The kid was thin—way too thin to just be school-related—and he was trembling from head to toe, bruises littering his skin. But the thing that really caught Hizashi off-guard was the muzzle strapped and locked to his face. The sight of it made Hizashi's old scars itch, especially when he caught sight of dried crusted blood around the edges—a telltale sign that this was not the first time it'd been used.

His heart shattered when the kid looked up at him with shimmering, adoring emerald orbs. For all that this kid had gone through, the moment recognition flashed in them, the fear was gone. The kid still trusted him. He'd be damned if he broke that trust.

"Hey, Little Listener. It's okay now. I'm here." He carefully pulled the kid into a hug, and the boy melted. Silent sobs shook his tiny form and it was just about the only thing keeping Hizashi from saying 'fuck legalities' and using his Quirk to demolish the whole school—teachers included. His husband would bail him out of jail (or break him out—one of the two).

"Th-this isn't what it looks like!" The principal huffed the moment he was within sight. Hizashi didn't miss the way the kid in his arms flinched the moment the homeroom teacher came into view. Bakugo glowered with rage, but the hero spoke first.

"No." Hizashi's voice was low and cold, smile noticeably absent from his face. The two men froze, and he felt a little bad about the way Bakugo flinched and stared at him in something like surprise. "No. You don't get to do this to a child and pretend everything's okay."

"I-it's just Midoriya!" The homeroom teacher—Iwatsu—gave a desperate smile, ignoring the sharp look of panic from the principal. "He's Quirkless! He just needs to learn his place is all."

Both kids flinched into him, and Hizashi felt his rage boil over. He was so damn angry he was almost crying—and that was a first for him. "Learn his place?" He repeated incredulously. It was taking everything he had to keep his Quirk from activating, because despite his earlier thoughts, he didn't want to see what would happen if he let loose in the broiler room beneath a middle school.

Iwatsu, it seemed, had some brain cells, because he didn't try to repeat himself. "I... um..."

Hizashi took a very deep breath, holding the boy securely to his chest and keeping a firm hand on Bakugo's shoulder to prevent him from lashing out—no matter how deserved it would've been. "Here's what's going to happen. I am going to walk out of this school with this child, and you will send all these children home. Immediately. You will send all security footage from the last three years to Nezu. You will not say another word to me, because I cannot guarantee this building will remain standing if you test me any further."

The two men traded looks and stepped out of his path—the smart choice, because Hizashi was carrying out his plan with or without their cooperation. Midoriya shook in his arms, and for a moment, he was afraid he'd frightened the kid—after all, Present Mic was known to be cheerful and upbeat, not terrifying and full of glares.

But the kid's eyes shone with nothing but awe and adoration—seemed like this was a method the kid approved of. And if Hizashi was being honest, he could understand the need for a little bit of revenge. Even Bakugo seemed to take a bit of vindictive pleasure from the way he was going about things.

He blinked in the light of the sun as they exited the building. "I've got some tools in my car to get that thing off of you. Hang tight, okay? You're doing great, Little Listener."

The kid ducked his head into his shoulder, and Hizashi ignored the growing wet spot he could feel from the boy's tears. The kid was hesitant to let go of him, but Hizashi needed both hands for this.

The shadow of his husband made his way over. Both boys noticed his approach at once—it wasn't like Shouta was trying to hide his presence—but while Bakugo got defensive, Midoriya perked up. If anything, his eyes were shining even more than before and not because of tears.

"Mic?" Shouta's gaze flickered between the muzzled child and him with shock and worry.

"Hey, calm down Listeners. This is another hero, he's here to help." He lowered his voice to a whisper, as if he were telling them a secret. "He may look like a grump, but he's really a softie."

"You aren't supposed to tell them that." Shouta groaned.

Hizashi had grabbed his supplies while the boys were distracted by Shouta's arrival, and he made quick work of the muzzle. He very gently removed it from the child's face, using some warm wet cloths to help loosen the grip of dried blood and prevent more damage. The kid reached a hand up, but Hizashi stopped him.

"Let me treat those wounds first, okay?" He smiled, carefully wiping away the excess blood so he could get a better look. With experienced fingers, he massaged the kid's jaw, slowly loosening the bunched up muscles and rigid joints from the hours the kid had likely spent with that contraption on his face. "There. I think we can let Recovery Girl handle the rest, don't you?"

"T-thank you." He whispered in awe. "Y-you... you really came. And... you helped me."

"Of course I did." Hizashi couldn't keep the small note of hurt from his voice. "Why would you think I wouldn't?"

"Because I'm Quirkless." The kid's whispered admission—so quiet he wouldn't have heard it without his hero-grade hearing aids—was heartbreaking. "But... you really meant what you said? On your radio station the other night?"

He vividly recalled the Quirkist woman who'd called in. It was one of the only times he'd found himself losing his grip on his Present Mic persona while On Air. "I meant every word, Little Listener." He promised. "Nezu got your email and sent us to check up on you. I'm glad he did."

The kid looked exhausted, but his eyes flickered back towards Shouta. The Little Listener looked like he'd had more than a rough day, and from what little skin he could see, he was hurt. What had looked like bruises in the dim lighting seemed to actually be wounds. Cuts and burns and—

Hizashi wasn't sure he wanted to know how the kid got all those. Especially since it looked like his uniform had been homepatched one too many times for it to be a one-time deal.

"So who the hell are you?" Bakugo stood protectively in front of Midoriya, glaring at Shouta like he was about to attack them both.

"Kacchan, no." Midoriya whispered softly. "That's Eraserhead."

Both heroes flinched minutely. People rarely recognized his husband. One of the perks of being an Underground hero, Shouta always said.

"You really know your stuff, Listener." Hizashi beamed.

"He... um... he's kinda famous... among the Quirkless." The kid admitted softly. Shouta shifted slightly at the term, eyes softening with a new understanding for the current situation. "After he saved one of us... even after the other heroes left him to die. And then said he'd do it again and yelled at the other heroes for leaving him... A lot of us have respect for Eraserhead."

Hizashi remembered that incident. Shouta had gotten an unbelievable amount of backlash for saving a Quirkless citizen during a villain attack—one of his very rare televised incidents. But he said after that, he'd gained a lot of respect on the streets. The vigilantes and even a few villains had gained some kind of respect for the Underground hero.

"Don't worry, kid. We'll make sure you'll be okay." Shouta held the kid's gaze for a long moment before the boy nodded.

"Okay."

"I'm coming too." Bakugo's hand grasped Midoriya's firmly, and Hizashi let out a low chuckle.

"All right, then. Let's hop in the car. I'll drive!" He needed some time to think. His anger hadn't abated even the slightest, and he needed a moment to sort out his own thoughts. Shouta probably wasn't happy being at the mercy of two rather scared and inquisitive children, but he knew better than anyone that muzzles were a touchy topic for Hizashi.

The voice hero's uncle had muzzled him as a child whenever his parents were out of town for longer than a few days—especially when he was younger. His Quirk was... inconvenient, to say the least. The issue was heavily personal, and he couldn't help but connect with every muzzle victim he came across.

He caught sight of Midoriya hesitantly smiling as Shouta explained something to him, and his anger both swelled and softened at the same time. This kid was going to be okay. He'd make sure of it.

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Izuku wasn't really sure what was going on anymore. He'd hoped for something like this—dreamed of it for a long time, really—but he'd never thought it'd actually happen. Not to him, at least. When he heard about a UA representative coming, he'd thought that maybe they'd shut down the school or something.

But when he'd heard Present Mic's voice calling out for him in the broiler room, he couldn't stay silent or still. He'd risked a fair bit on the frail hope that the man was true to his word—that he didn't care if someone was Quirkless or not.

The hero had exceeded his expectations. Not only had he rescued him—giving his teachers and principal a severe talking-to that had him grinning as widely as he could under his muzzle—but he was even taking him to UA so Recovery Girl could heal him up! It was beyond anything he'd ever imagined, and his fingers itched for his notebooks. A look from Kacchan told him he knew exactly what he was itching for.

But the only notebook he had on him right now was the one Kacchan had destroyed a few weeks ago. Izuku had dried it out, and it was still usable (he'd managed to salvage the inner writings, thank goodness. Not for the first time, he thanked his foresight in having field journals and keeping the real ones at home). Though the blonde had apologized profusely, Izuku still didn't have the money for new notebooks yet.

He instead quietly rattled off question after question to Eraserhead while they drove, the man patiently answered each one, though sometimes his eyebrows twitched like they wanted to incline in surprise. Kacchan jumped in a few times with his own comments or questions, but he seemed content to let Izuku have his moment. Before he knew it, they were pulling up to the main building of UA High. It seemed that classes were still in session as they pulled the car around to the lot and parked it.

"C'mon, Little Listener. Let's get you to Recovery Girl, yeah?" Present Mic gave him a gentle smile, and Izuku could make out a few scars along the man's face. Scars that matched the angry red lines Izuku saw on his own in the mirror.

"Hey." Kacchan gently butted his shoulder against Izuku's as they followed the two into the school. "You'll have time to gawk once we become students here, nerd."

"You two want to attend UA?" Present Mic hummed with a grin.

"Heroics." Izuku spoke up softly. "Kacchan and I want to be heroes."

"Yeah!" Kacchan gave a wide intimidating smile. "I'm gonna be the Number One Hero! And Zukkun will be the Number One Underground hero."

Eraserhead's eyes sharpened at that, observing Izuku with a keen gaze. "Underground heroics?"

"I... I don't have a Quirk. It's not realistic to think I can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with a limelight hero, but Underground Heroics is different." He resisted the urge to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. It was a habit his math and science teachers hated.

"He's fucking smart." Kacchan butted in. "He's got these Quirk Analysis journals—"

"Kacchan!" Izuku's face went red with mortification. "I-I'm sorry, they're really just a hobby!"

"Fucking stop that! They're damn useful, you nerd! Just because our fucking Quirkist teachers say it's stupid, doesn't mean it is! You helped me develop whole new ways to use my Quirk."

"Analysis?" Eraserhead hummed.

Oh great. Now Kacchan had them thinking he was some super talented analyst or something. "I-it's really nothing..."

"You've got your notebook, right?" Kacchan smirked.

"It's my field notebook." Izuku hissed, ignoring the way his injuries flared at the movement. "I use it to jot down bullet points for the real analysis back home."

"Whatever. Just write something down for 'em here." Kacchan was way too chill about this.

"Sounds like a good idea, Listener." Present Mic grinned. "Eraser loves a sharp mind. If you impress him, you might even get a lesson or two out of him!"

"Zashi." He sent Present Mic a glare. Izuku blinked at the use of what must've been a nickname. If he remembered correctly, Present Mic's civilian name was Yamada Hizashi. If the two were close enough to use not just their given names but nicknames of their given names... and Present Mic had already publicly stated he was married to a man... And Eraserhead wasn't known to really be overly close with anyone, but Izuku had caught his shadow in a few of Present Mic's mission videos...

Were they married?

It took him a moment to realize they'd stopped walking. Both heroes were staring at him with surprise, and Kacchan was trying not to bust a gut laughing and oh no, he'd been muttering hadn't he?

"I... Please tell me I wasn't..."

"You fucking said it out loud!" Kacchan roared with laughter. "Holy shit, Zukkun, I didn't think you would fucking analyze that."

"I mean... You aren't wrong, Listener." Present Mic gave him an easy smile. "We just weren't expecting you to put it together from just that."

"Like I said." Kacchan finally caught his breath and swiftly ignored Izuku's glare. "Zukkun's fucking scary smart. You should see him tear apart a Quirk."

"Well, we're here." Eraserhead nodded towards a door that had a sign with a medical staff on it. "Let's get you taken care of. We can talk about analysis afterwards."

Izuku's head was spinning. The whole day was starting to catch up with him as the reality of casually speaking with two pro heroes and being rescued started to set in. Kacchan's strong presence was probably the only reason he managed to make it to the bed as Recovery Girl gave him a lookover.

He knew how her Quirk worked, so he thought he was prepared for the energy drain. Unfortunately, he must've been more hurt than he realized, because one kiss and he was out like a light.

His last thought before passing out was that at least he probably wasn't going to have to go to school tomorrow.

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"We can't leave him there." Hizashi paced the staff room while his husband nursed a pot of coffee, forgoing the cup in favor of drinking straight from the percolator.

"I know, Zashi."

The two kids were still down with Recovery Girl. Midoriya had passed out after she'd used her Quirk, but they'd expected as much. It gave the kid time to recover, Bakugo time to process, and the heroes time to figure out what the heck they were going to do.

"Did you see how skinny he was?! That's not a sign of a good home life!"

"I know, Zashi." Shouta drained the rest of his brew before getting up and rustling through some papers.

"I mean it! I can't just leave the Listener in whatever circumstances he's living in! We couldn't even get into contact with his mother, and I sent Ectoplasm there twenty minutes ago, and he just messaged me saying that the place looks almost empty! He said from what he could see, it looks like the kid's living there alone most of the time!"

"Zashi."

"And don't get me started on—"

"Hizashi."

The Voice Hero cut himself off with wide eyes as he stared at his husband. The dark coal gaze softened when he realized he had his attention. "I'm already way ahead of you." He held up his emergency foster license, and Hizashi fell in love all over again.

"I knew I married you for a reason."

"Yeah, because I'm the only one that keeps you on schedule." He rolled his eyes with a fond smile. "Now c'mon. Let's make sure our new charge is all right. I've got Nezu running a background check to see what the situation is with his parents, but it's not looking good."

"Well, he did say he wanted to go into your field." Hizashi gave him a sly grin.

"Just because he wants to become an Underground Hero does not mean I'll favor him."

Hizashi grinned. "I'll remind you of this conversation when you Sponsor him for the UA Exams next year."

A Sponsorship was different from the recommendation exams. Only pros who worked for the school could hand out a Sponsorship, and it basically gave the kid in question a custom-tailored exam. These were usually much more challenging than the general ones, but ideal for those without destructive Quirks. The downside was that if the kid failed, the Sponsor took a rather nasty hit—usually to their reputation or the amount of paperwork allotted to them by Nezu.

"I'm not sponsoring the kid."

"Uh huh." Hizashi handed him his thermos, already filled with coffee. "C'mon, Alleycat. We've got some kiddies to talk to."

Shouta smiled softly at the nickname and took a long swig of his coffee. Hizashi couldn't help but grin. He couldn't wait to see what kind of hero these two kids turned out to be.