Izuku's mother has always been a force to be reckoned with.

Izuku is aware he doesn't use that saying how most people do. He says it with a hint of admiration and a meaning that isn't at all what one would think. She's a force to be reckoned with when it comes to her motherly attributes. Unchallenged in her kindness, and forever caring towards others. To this day, he has yet to meet anyone who worries as much as she does over whether someones smiled or not that day.

When he was younger, she used to drag him to the only park in their neighborhood with bread and apples. He remembers his arms growing tired having to carry it as a muscle-lacking kindergartner. His mother had always commented on the nice weather and fussed over whether he was cold or not, depending on the season. They'd take the long route past the pond where everyone would throw bread to the ducks and sit on benches. They never stopped there, always continuing on to where they could usually find huddles of people in hand-me-down clothes and tired eyes.

He'd asked his mother once why they didn't feed the ducks like all the others; why they always rather leave their bread with people. She'd taken his hand and told him, The ducks have plenty of people looking out for them, you don't have to worry Izuku.

She'd never really answered him but he'd figured it out when he was older.

She's talking to him now, on this train, using that same softened kind tone as she'd used when she'd told him about ducks years ago. He's been listening to her with a grin pulling at his lips for the past five minutes. Sometimes it's hard to hear her when the train goes through a tunnel, often exchanging a few glances of sympathy and exasperation with other passengers whose phones were tucked between their shoulders and ears.

He likes listening to her like this. She seems so happy, so. . . hopeful. He can understand why, he'd be like this too if he hadn't been the one to write the article she was talking about.

Truth be told, he didn't even remember to think of his mothers reaction to his quirkless article before he posted it. He'd been so concerned for how the public would take it, he'd forgotten about all those around him. Luckily, she's taking it well. He thinks she cried, though. He knew she had the moment she called him while he was boarding the train to Endeavors place and it had came to him with a start that he hadn't called her the day before, or before that when the article was released. She'd immediately pestered him to make sure he was okay. He'd been quick to reassure her and tell her, yes, he read the article; yes, he knows what this mean; and no Mom, he won't participate in the rallies just to be safe.

Soon enough, he'd found himself snagging a seat while his mother rambled about all the good things about the article. He was grateful for her words, as a comfort and also as a distraction. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't worrying about what he'll face the moment he steps off this train. He hadn't been looking forward to spending a whole train ride sitting in his thoughts and dreading it. Staying with the Todoroki's in Hosu for his internship was both an exciting and daunting opportunity, and not one he'd like to dwell on.

Regardless, he's enjoying this bit of time he gets with his mom. As entertaining and brotherly Dabi is, it's not the same as living with her. He misses cooking with her and coming home to be wrapped in her hugs and the slightly off smell of their places air freshener.

"Someone's finally looking out for you, Izuku," she says to him and he can picture the shine she usually gets in her eyes. She sighs, the noise audible through the phone speaker. "I know I'm getting ahead of myself, but I can't wait to see a place where you're treated better."

Izuku feels taken aback by her statement. He hadn't realized she knew that he was treated much differently. He means, of course she knew some of it but there's a weird wobble to her voice that suggest she was aware of things beyond just a few disgruntled looks and occasional teasing.

"Mmm," he hums into the phone, shifting in his seat to check the sign near the front of the train displaying stops. Two stops till his. "I'm excited too, Mom, but it won't be an immediate fix."

"Of course, but it's still so. . . thrilling? Is that the word?"

"Thrilling fits."

"Yes, I suppose it does. You're doing all right in school? Your intern?"

"Yes," he answers honestly. At least he can be honest with her about this among all the lying he's had to do to hide his alternate identity. "Yesterday we got to pick out internships, or at least the analyst kids did. The hero kids just got to start brainstorming names. Mic-sensei said something about them not being able to attend internships because they aren't actual hero students."

"That must be disappointing."

He shrugs. "Not really. They all already knew they'd get the short end of the stick for this stuff anyways. Shinsou-kun seemed to have fun picking names. I helped him a bit. We can't decide between Bossy Boy and Control Freak."

There was the sound of someone snorting in amusement through the phone. His grin spread a fraction wider.

"Speaking of someday heroes," his mother says, trailing off a bit and tone suddenly a hint more seriousness, "Katsuki reached out to me."

He stiffened.

Of all the things he'd expected his mother to say, it hadn't been that. He knew, obviously, he'd have to deal with Kacchan's reaction to his article eventually but he thought he'd at least get his week away on his internship before having to face that, whatever that is. Least of all, would he have expected having to face it through his mother. 

There's a lot of history between him and Kacchan that he still needs to sort out. He knows a lot of it wasn't okay, but he's still not sure of the specifics. If he had to tell someone what he thought about his relationship with the blonde right now, he wouldn't know what to say. He thinks he can understand Hawks taking time to think about the commission by himself in that sense. It's not all that different from his feelings towards his childhood friend. Friend, even, is a tentative word.

He's not. . . He doesn't think he can face Kacchan right now. Soon, but not yet.

"What did he say?" Izuku asked, gathering his courage and simultaneously praying that this conversation wasn't going where he thought it was.

"It was about Revite's article. He'd wanted to apologize to me."

. . .

"What?" He hadn't been sure he'd heard her right. Kacchan-- apologizing.

"I know I should have brought it up sooner, sorry, but I figured he'd talk to you and if not I should at least give you some space after the article. I knew you'd call me if you really needed anything. I didn't want to be pushy--"

"Mom," he cut her off. He was struggling to keep up, mind still reeling a bit from the revelation. Quickly, and almost subconsciously, he checked the sign for stops again. Still one more stop till his. He's got time. He took a deep breath and asked, "Can you start over. Kacchan apologized, for what?"

There was a brief moment off silence that made would have made Izuku question if they'd gone through another tunnel if it weren't for the view of the sun just beginning to set in his window proving otherwise. He waited, knowing sometimes it took his mother a little while to gather her thoughts well enough.

"He texted me not long after Revite's article came out. The text said only that he was sorry," she finally said. "I made him call me. Izuku, I've haven't heard him sound like how he did since you boys were four. He apologized to me for hurting me. He'd said he saw a mother on the news talking about her quirkless son. Do have any idea why he'd be apologizing to me?"

Izuku didn't like the knowing tone to the last bit. She knew. He's almost certain Kacchan would have explained at least a little bit to her, even if likely vague and riddled with curses.

He hung his head, feeling the flash of guilt that flared through him. Lying to his mother has never been easy, but he's always managed. He thinks his past experiences lying to her are the only reason she hasn't realized he's Revite yet. Now he's being caught in the act, and he knows that the second he sees her in person they'll have a real conversation about it.

"I'm sorry," he says for now. "I'm so sorry Mom. I just didn't want you to worry."

"I understand, Izuku." She sighed. "We'll talk about that another time. I'm not mad. Right now I just wanted you to know you should talk to Katsuki. I promise it will benefit you both. Your Aunt Mitsuki said he's been doing a lot better lately. He's trying, Izu."

"I know," he mumbles into the phone because, really, what else is he supposed to say? He's seen how Kacchan's been changing, growing and shifting into something more heroic. It's from a far, not nearly close enough to see the exact changes, but still he can see. He's glad, even if he'll never be close to Kacchan again.

There's a ding, signalling an upcoming stop. He glances out his window at the approaching station. His stop.

"I'm sorry Mom, but I have to go. I can't leave the Todoroki's waiting." He shoulders his back pack and picks up his little duffel bag from under the train seat.

"Stay safe. I love you. And please, talk to Katsuki."

"I will Mom. Love you too. Bye."

-:-

In the email Sutorimu had sent him, she'd explained that someone would be picking him up at the station. So far, he's been waiting for twenty minutes on one of the many benches of the platform, swiveling his head every now and then to search for anything to give clue to his ride. He'd known he'd be early, but the wait got more agitating as it went on. It was odd to sit here with so much to think about.

The nerves in his stomach had died down a bit, now still an electrifying hum but easier to ignore. It was hard not to be nervous. Anyone would be if they found out they'd be staying with their bosses family. The feelings simply tripled because of the whole stalking and sabotaging thing he has going on. 

Earlier, the night before, Dabi had told him it would be fine as long as he didn't flat out say he was Revite. He'd ruffled his hair (rather aggressively, to be honest) and told him he could use his thick skull to get through the week, reminding him that Hawks and himself would be only a phone call away.

The knowledge that Dabi and Hawks had agreed to work together without Izuku pushing them had been more shocking than the hair ruffle. He was grateful for it, don't get him wrong, but there was a slight undertone to it that had him questioning the action. With what Dabi told him about Ayumu and the commission, and how he kept mentioning what that must have been like for Hawks, he'd almost say that Dabi was starting to like the hero.

Scratch that. Dabi was definitely starting to like Hawks, and maybe in more ways than one if he's not wrong. Good.

The new possible friendship wasn't the only good thing from Dabi last night though. He's pretty sure they hit the jackpot when it came to dirt on the commission. All the information Ayumu gave Dabi will surely pull through. It's almost enough to take down the commission, if he can find a way to prove that the training was more intense and isolating than should be acceptable. Almost isn't enough though. He's hoping the reason behind kids disappearing will be what pushes the commissions corruption over the end. Fingers crossed.

"Excuse me."

Izuku startles as he hears a voice yank him from his thoughts. Standing directly in front of him (how did he not notice?) was the voices owner. Their hair was a stark white with wisps of red, cascading down just past their shoulders. They were peering down at him on the bench from behind square rimmed glasses. He recognized her even before she introduced herself.

"I'm Fuyumi Todoroki," she said, outstretching her hand. "Are you Izuku Midoriya?"

Still stuck in his surprise, he scrambled to his feet and shook her offered hand. "I--uh, yes. That's me."

A little formal smile quirked up the corner of her lips. "I thought so. Sutorimu-san did a good job describing you in her email."

"Yeah, she has a knack for details. She could fool a lot of people into thinking she has a photographic memory," he said, as a little sense of relief eased his nerves at the mention of something familiar. He retracted his hand from Fuyumi's and rubbed at his neck. "I didn't realize you'd be picking me up. Uh, not that it's a bad thing."

Not a bad thing at all. Of all the Todoroki's, Fuyumi and her mother are the only ones he and Dabi have yet to get close to. It would do him some good to get to know Endeavor's sole daughter. With any other member of the family, Izuku would know what to say, how to approach any situation with them, but with Fuyumi, it's uncharted territory.

"We should get going if we want to make it there in time for dinner," Fuyumi said, cutting through the moment of silence. She paced towards the stations exits and he followed at her heels. She glanced at him, glasses glinting in the light. She asked, "Did you have a nice ride?"

"Yes, the time flew by faster than I expected," he answered, a little surprised by the pleasantries. He didn't know what to expect from her.

"I'm sorry you had to wait so long at the station. No one else could pick you up and I couldn't get here until I finished marking."

Interest piquing, he moved to walk beside Fuyumi as they entered the parking lot. Maybe he could learn a bit from this small talk. He said, "What do you do?"

"I'm a teacher. Elementary students. They're troublesome but I like to think their still pretty amazing." Her eyes brightened, almost in a proud manner, as she spoke. He realized with a start that her eyes weren't the same blue he'd come to associate with the Todoroki's. Rather, they matched more the shade of Shouto's grey eye.

Fuyumi turns away from him when they reach her car, or at least what he assumes is hers. She hops in, gesturing for him to do the same, and soon enough they're on the road.

The roads of Hosu aren't all that different, Izuku notices while watching them pass by through the passenger seat window. The streets are just as crowded, buildings just as tall. The only noticeable difference is the brighter lights from inside buildings and the greater amount of alleyways compared to Musutafu.

"Shouto's mentioned you before."

Izuku snaps his gaze from the window to Fuyumi behind the wheel. His eyebrows pinch together at the sudden words, trying to figure out what she's saying from the blank expression she wore.

"Really?" he settles on saying. "I didn't think he talked about me."

And he truly meant it. He figured he was having some sort of impact on Shouto but he also guessed the boy wouldn't talk much about it. After all, Izuku is just another person in his ever-so grand life.

She hums, nodding. "He never says much, he's not one for words, but there's been little things here and there. 'Midoriya was at the USJ today.' 'Midoriya beat me.' 'Midoriya's soba is better.'" She shrugs. "Like I said, little things. I think he likes you."

Izuku froze in his seat, lips parting. It was one thing to assume the boy liked him, it was another to hear it confirmed by his sister. He felt a fluttery feeling emerge in his stomach and he quickly shoved it down. He opened his mouth to speak but didn't have the chance before Fuyumi continued.

"Which is why I'm telling you this," she says, taking a second to shoot him a serious look before returning her vision to the road. Her fingers were drumming lightly on the steering wheel. "My father doesn't let many people see the inside workings of his life like this so see this as what it is; a once in a lifetime opportunity. Don't mess it up, for Shouto's sake. He doesn't have a lot of friends and if you screw up, then he won't be able to make one out of you. Understand?"

He nodded. Between Dabi and Sutorimu, he'd already been given this spiel too many times. Cause and effects. Action and consequences. He knows.

"I love my family, Midoriya, and I want this to go well."

"I do too," he admitted. "If there's anything I can do to make the week go smoothly, let me know. I'm sure Sutorimu has a copy of 'The guide to not making a fool of yourself in front of your bosses family' that she could lend me."

A faint humored smile ticked up the corners of Fuyumi's lips. Mentally, Izuku gave a point to himself.

The rest of the ride was spent mostly in peaceful silence, the radio playing as white noise in the background. Occasionally Fuyumi would point out an attraction of Hosu or ask him a question or two about how he got to know Shouto. He had to explain to her the soba adventure from Endeavors party, leaving out the part where they got in trouble for it.

It wasn't long before they were pulling up to one of the houses at the edge of the city. Sutorimu had explained to him in her email that the Todoroki's own a house in Hosu for when Endeavor spends time patrolling there. Apparently when you're as rich as the number two hero, multiple houses isn't such a hassle.

Right off the bat, Izuku can tell it wasn't nearly as nice as their house back in Musutafu but it was still pleasant with it's single floor and modern design. He couldn't see the entirety of the houses outside with the amount of trees and shrubs covering it. Endeavor sure likes his privacy.

Fuyumi guided him to the front door, opening it without hesitance and calling into the house, "Hello! I got Midoriya-kun!" 

A crash rang out from somewhere a few rooms over from the entrance, sounding suspiciously like someone had skidded into a wall. A figure came bursting out from the other side of the open living room connected to the entry. Izuku was quick to recognize the head of stark white hair and wide blue eyes.

Natsuo stumbled towards him, clearly having been the cause of the crash. He brushed down his clothes, wiping away invisible dust or evening out wrinkles in his grey vest. "Sorry. I'm a mess. Pleasure to meet y-- Cake pop kid?!"

The boy had looked up from brushing off his clothes only for his eyes to double and size and mouth drop open. Izuku frowned.

"Oh. You're the barista at that coffee shop. . . ?" Izuku questioned, trying his best to play along. "Wait, what do you mean cake pop kid? I never ordered a cake pop."

Fuyumi eyed the two of them. "That's one introduction I don't have to do."

"No duh, you didn't order a cake pop," Natsuo retaliated, rolling his eyes and completely ignoring Fuyumi. "It's called order personalities. The staff gives them to everyone. See, you're cake pop kid because you're all energetic and bubbly, or at least I thought. And well, you're a kid. Everyone gets a special order assigned to them. Like, black coffee for example. . ."

Izuku lost track of what Natsuo was saying the moment Shouto stepped into his room. His eyes were pulled to his like a magnet, a little spark of excitement lighting up in his chest. He'd emerged from around the corner, clearly having come from the shower no longer than an hour ago if the damp bounce to his hair as he stepped was anything to go by. Izuku noted that the red half of his hair seemed almost dry while the white still held a bit of moisture.

Gaze sliding from his hair to his eyes, Izuku felt a closed lipped smile stretch across his face. At first glance, Shouto's expression was passive, but a closer look drew attention to the little curve in his lips. Was he happy to see him? Fuyumi said he liked him, that they could be friends? Friends are happy to see each other, right?

He remembered there were other people in the room and pulled his sight away from Shouto's duel coloured eyes, back to Natsuo still talking about order personalities (is that what he called them?).

". . . and actually, all the staff knows your brother as No Cream No Sugar guy," Natsuo finished off, scratching at his temple.

Izuku brightened at the mention of Dabi, and he wasn't the only one. Shouto straightened up a tad, eyes widening a fraction. There was a curious tilt to his tone as he asked, "You know his brother? The one who loves hot soba?"

The little snort that left Izuku at the idea of Shouto still being hung up over that couldn't be helped. He wouldn't have guessed the guy had remembered that.

"Uh, I think so?" Natsuo answered. "He's one of my regulars, unless Midoriya has another brother we don't know about. He's kind of broody."

"That's him." Izuku glanced around the little crowd they'd formed at the entrance and frowned. "Where's Endeavor-san and Sutorimu?"

Natsuo leaned against the wall, nodding his head in the direction he'd came from earlier. He said, "They're in Enji's office having a 'business discussion'.  They'll be out soon for dinner."

Idly, Izuku wondered what the could be talking about. He'd expected to enter this house only to be bombarded by a scowling Endeavor and bossy Sutorimu trying to coerce him into being at his best behavior before he does anything. The slightly messy greeting from Natsuo was a much better alternative.

He's glad Sutorimu's here. He doesn't think he'd survive the whole week without her. Shouto's easy enough to cling to but he can't guide him through this like she will, especially on patrols. He's gotten too used to patrolling with her to go without now. Her and Akito show him the ropes and help him stumble his way through being an analyst. His entire internship would feel impossible without them both.

Fuyumi showed him wear to put his shoes and then handed him off to Shouto and Natsuo, claiming she had to get to finishing the dinner preparations. Natsuo quickly ditched too, darting off to his room to do . . . something? He never said. Shouto and him were left alone in the entrance, facing each other and neither of them saying a word. Izuku shifted on his feet, rocking on his heels. The weight of his duffel felt significantly heavier with the tension in the room.

"Uh, is there some place I could put this?" he asked, his voice cracking on the first word. He sort of wished the ground would swallow him up. Why does he always feel so awkward after people ditch him to be alone with Shouto? First with Akito and Sutorimu and now with Fuyumi and Natsuo.

"Yes. Your room," Shouto confirmed. He spun around and motioned with his hand for him to follow him. As they walked past the living room and into what Izuku would dare to call the main hallway, Shouto gestured to one of the closed door.

"That's the guest room," he said. "We only have one and Sutorimu's sleeping there."

"Please don't tell me I'm in the closet then," Izuku joked but it clearly went right over Shouto's head as the boy side eyed him with a confused look, eyebrows drawn together and lips pursed.

"No. We wouldn't do that to you." Shouto stopped in front of the last door in the hallway, hand on the doorknob. "You'll be sleeping with me in my room."

. . . in my room.

Oh. That was certainly unexpected.

Truth is, Izuku doesn't know what he expected, but it wasn't that. Of all places Endeavor could have put him to sleep, why with his son? His prized 'creation' that he separates from everything else in the world?

If today's proved anything, it's that you might be able to encourage Shouto further with . . . other things.

Endeavors words from the sports festival came to mind. Right. His boss thinks he's some sort of miracle worker that can bend his son to be what he wants when in reality he plans to help Shouto get far far away from the man.

He'd be spending all week in this room, in Shouto's room, with Shouto. If he had any doubts that he wouldn't be able to get to know him, they just flew right out the window. Sutorimu may be able to guide him through the day, but he's realizing he'll be alone in the night. How can he even-- how does he act? He's never slept in the same room as anyone besides Kacchan. Even nowadays, he sleeps in the main room of his and Dabi's apartment while Dabi stays in the bedroom with his sad excuse of a bed. (He really needs to get around to buying them both beds with his savings.)

Point is, with any person he would feel awkward about the situation but with Shouto? It's a whole other thing. It's not just that he's his bosses son, or that he doesn't know how he's supposed to act, or that he's trying to save Shouto using kind of maybe sort of manipulation and constantly lying to him but that he-- he. . . well, he doesn't know. There's just something that feels so inherently wrong about it all, the source to the twisting in his chest.

No. Wrongs not the word. Not wrong but. . . weird? Good-- or no. Not good. Just. Fuck.

Now not even his own brain can think. The one thing he can always rely on.

"This, this is your room?" he questioned, fumbling for words and glancing between the door and Shouto. It was a dumb question, but Izuku's feeling a little dumb right now so he let it slide.

"See for yourself," Shouto said, pushing the door open.

Peering into the room, the first thing to come to Izuku's mind was: bare. The beige walls were completely void of anything beside a few shelves lined with way books. There was a tall stemmed plant in the corner of the room and one little purple flower pot sitting atop a kneeling desk along the wall but that was the only colour in the room. Two cots were set up on opposite ends of the room and Izuku assumed one of them had just been made for him.

If Izuku had pictured Shouto's room before this, which he hadn't, he would have guessed his room to look a bit like this. Maybe minus the flowers and add a punching bag or something of the like. At least he can depend on Shouto's predictability.

"You can put your stuff by that cot," Shouto says, stepping into the room and pointing to the cot to the right. He sits himself down on his own cot, seeming to watch as Izuku set his things down. When he glanced back at the boy, he was watching him, hands folded in his lap and a calculating look resting across his features.

"What?"

Shouto tilts his head to the side slightly. "Does sleeping in the same room make you uncomfortable?"

Izuku blanked. It didn't make him-- that wasn't it. Or rather he doesn't think that's it. "No, no. It's okay. Better than okay. I am perfectly alright with sleeping with you-- er, in the same room as you."

"Then why are you acting strange?"

"Because this is my bosses house. I know you probably haven't had a job before but that can be a little weird." 

"That's all?"

"That's all. Promise."

Shouto nods, pushing himself up off his cot. He strides towards the door, saying, "Come on. Fuyumi will be done making the last of dinner by now."

Dinner ended up being one of the most awkward situations he's ever been in.

When the two of them had entered the dinning room, he'd been surprised to find Endeavor standing behind the chair at the head of the table and Sutorimu helping Fuyumi set places. Natsuo had looked like he was having a staring contest with the wall, his jaw clenched and fists ball up at his sides. The tension in the room had been thick enough to cut.

Everyone had gotten themselves sorted out, finding their seats and dishing food. He'd been placed between Natsuo and Sutorimu, but across from Shouto. Dinner would have gone by silently if it weren't for Sutorimu whispering warnings to him about his behavior and Natsuo pestering about how his brother was doing. Fuyumi occasionally tried to start up conversation among the whole group but it always fell short. Izuku had felt bad, truly trying to help her but never getting far.

It had been clear that the whole table revolved around Endeavor. If he spoke, which he hardly did, then he had everyone's attention and the topic wouldn't die off immediately. When he spoke, Natsuo quieted. The boy had been so talkative towards Izuku but that all disappears as soon as Endeavor opens his mouth. Izuku couldn't tell whether it was regular tension between them or if something had happened before Shouto and him came in.

Point is, the moment they were dismissed from dinner, he and Shouto had gone to his room and relief had washed over him. He sits now on his cot, running a hand through his hair. Shouto sat himself down on his own cot, eyes following his movements. Izuku felt a little bit like Shouto was the analyst, not him.

Izuku fiddled with his hands. "That was, uh. . ."

"Odd?" Shouto supplied.

"I mean, the food was good at least."

Shouto gave off an amused huff. At least Izuku thinks it was amused.

"We don't normally eat together like that," he explained. "Fuyumi pushed us to do it tonight. She wants you to like our family, or at the minimum see us as normal."

Izuku watches Shouto's eyebrows pinch together and his lips curl downwards. He'd figured this wasn't typical for their family, but he didn't know Fuyumi had been trying hard. Without thinking, he asks, "Does she know you told me about your family?"

He shook his head. "No one knows. My siblings and I, we don't talk to each other much. Before my eldest brother, Touya, died we used to. Fuyumi and Natsuo are still close I think, but both of them are hardly around anymore. Fuyumi stays here for work and Natsuo spends a lot of time on his schools campus in Musutafu."

"But Fuyumi said you talked to her about me? I thought you guys talked more?"

"No." He shrugged. "That was only because after my father brought up you'd be staying here, she asked me about you."

Silence encased the room as Izuku let that sink in. He'd never had any siblings, but he can't imagine not talking to his mom like he does. It seems so lonely. He stares at Shouto now, and his mannerisms made more sense. He wasn't good with people, and probably because he never had to be. He was isolated.

A piece of Izuku ached for him. He wished he could reach out and show him what he'd missed out on; help him get those wonderful things others experience. This was why he was doing this, to help this boy get a better life. A good life he deserves. He deserves to be able to have people he can talk to.

He leaned back against the wall his cot was placed by, sighing. A little bundle of nerves clawed at his chest as he prepared for his next words.

"I'm here," he said, wincing at his quiet tone, "if you ever want to talk to someone. About your day, or other things. Anything really. You can talk to me."

Shouto's eyes locked on his own, a blank expression masking over his face. They held each others gaze like that for a long time it felt like. Izuku thinks he could depict every detail in Shouto's eyes at this point. His grey eye was different from Fuyumi's. It was more dark, like an incoming storm, compared to her light mist like colour.

"You too," he says out of nowhere.

Izuku frowns. "Huh?"

"You can talk to me too," he clarifies. He pulls his feet up to sit criss-crossed on the cot. "I read Revite's article about quirklessness. I figured you don't have many people either."

I have Mom, he thought defensively, and Dabi, sort of.

Waving aside that thought, he gaped at Shouto. He'd read that article. He was concerned? Was he? Is that what was going on?

"I-- Thanks. I'll remember that," he ended up saying, ears and cheeks feeling hot. He glanced away from Shouto. Why is this so embarrassing?

Another few moments of heavy silence weighed down the room. Shouto opened and closed his mouth a few times, seeing to almost speak before double taking and then not. After some time, he said, "About the articles, I wanted to know what you thought about them?"

"Does it really matter what I thought? I don't think the point of them was to focus on someones opinion?"

"No, but, if anyone I know has any understanding on them, it's you. I just want want to know if Revite's right, even if that's only your opinion."

"He is. Right, I mean. . . Most quirkless people go through what he said. That stats are accurate from what I've seen."

"You. . . you went through some of those things?"

"Some. Not all."

"Hmm. . . I think he's right about the whole not being worthless thing."

"You do?"

"Yes. Well if it were wrong, that'd mean I got beat by someone worthless. Besides, worthless people don't make good soba, I wouldn't think. That's a worth in it's own."

He laughed. "Wow. You really loved that soba, huh? Planning on making me your personal chef, are you?"

"Maybe. . ." His head dipped and, though it may have been a trick of the light, Izuku swears he saw a grin split across his face. "We should head to bed. My father has planned a big day for tomorrow."

"Right. I'll, uh, get to it." Izuku opened his bag, pulling out his clothes and making for the bathroom to change. He hesitated in the doorway, glancing back at Shouto only to find the boys eyes already on him.

"And Midoriya," he says, the same seriousness form earlier creeping back into his tone, "thank you."

And though he isn't certain what he's thanking him for, he had some guesses. He tried for a soft smile. He nodded to him, mumbling a quick, "you're welcome," before leaving the room.

Maybe this week won't be as difficult as he thought.