Chapter 38: A Guilty Conscience and Costume Upgrades
Izuku had been sorely, sorely tempted to run after Bakugo immediately, but a halting look from Ochaco had convinced him that what his friend needed was time to process what had been revealed to him. He was gradually learning to trust her intuition when it came to reading people and their emotions much more than he trusted his own instincts on that topic. He had thought he had a good grasp over his ability to discern the truth behind peoples' actions, but for all his skill in finding someone's secret intent or the motives behind their words, it turned out he was horrible at reading how they actually felt about the things they said and did.
In Bakugo's case, he had thought that the boy was angry on his behalf, but the more he reflected on the empty seat that his friend had shot out of, the more wrong that thought seemed. Sure, his words had been about Izuku, but his eyes had been asking for help and spoke of something that he needed to uncover for himself. Had the revelation changed his perspective again? Was it that he had realized he needed for Izuku to have a quirk to be worthy of his friendship? Had he only been pretending to acknowledge him lately out of remorse for their past? It was too confusing, but that was something they could talk about later. The others had taken his revelation a little better, but not by much.
Mei of course had already known, both about his suspicions regarding his own lack of a quirk, and the potential danger being posed by the unknown villain who had likely taken it. Still, she had been unnerved ever since the sludge villain had attacked them on the beach, seeming a little less exuberant than was typical for her. Seeing how Bakugo had reacted though had gotten her muttering at a speed that made even Izuku's eyes widen in surprise. If it weren't for the fact that they looked absolutely nothing alike, she really could have been mistaken for his sibling in that moment. Suddenly, her head shot up, eyes narrowed.
"The pissy dandelion has a point guys," she said, jumping from her seat and nearly knocking over Iida in her rush to grab a spare notebook that was resting on a nearby workbench. She produced a pen from her bag and began scribbling furiously before the pen snapped in half under her assault against the paper, a second pen appearing a moment later. "Side project, stronger pen," she mumbled almost under her breath.
"Uhh, Mei?" Izuku asked, only to receive a finger in his face, the universal sign that he should wait before speaking again. Mei returned to her scribbles, and Izuku was resigned to letting out a heavy sigh and reflecting on how it felt to be on the other side for once. Truthfully, it didn't seem all that weird or off-putting to him, but the reactions he always received when he descended into his own muttering told him otherwise. Iida cleared his throat and stood.
"Well, as I already said, I will inquire with Tensei about this matter and see what he knows. Furthermore, I appreciate your warning and concern, Midoriya. I am glad you consider us close enough to trust me with this secret, and I shall endeavor to be worthy of that trust." He gave a slight bow before walking up to Izuku and putting a hand on his shoulder. "You will always be able to call on myself or my brother for aid. When the time comes, whatever you decide to do, count on our support. It is both what a hero would do, and what friends are for."
"Iida-kun," breathed Izuku, eyes watering. The other boy scoffed and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.
"I think we all know each other well enough to the point where I would appreciate you calling me Tenya, if I may call you Izuku, of course." Tearful now, Izuku nodded and gave a watery smile.
"You already call me Ochaco, but everyone else here can too," added the girl in question, appearing at his side and giving both boys a crushing hug. A dainty cough drew their attention to the blushing Yaoyorozu, who was seated beside the still tired looking Shinso and the hunched over form of Mei, who had yet to stop writing.
"Sharing this kind of knowledge, trusting us all so much, I would also like it if you all would call me Momo, or Yaomomo, if you find that more comfortable. I am...very glad to have people my age who I can count as friends."
"You're all insane," said Shinso dryly. "But none of you seem like bad people, and frankly I'd like to have some friends for once. So call me Hitoshi or whatever," he huffed, still clearly feeling a little out of place.
"Both of you get over here then," demanded Ochaco, still not releasing the two boys. Momo squeaked but did as she was told, gingerly stepping over and adding her own arms to the hug. It took a glare from Ochaco to get Hitoshi to join in, and he did so reluctantly, with an eye roll that could have rivalled Aizawa.
Eventually they all stood together, a little uncomfortable at first but gradually coming to enjoy the familiarity of the group hug, despite the absence of both Mei and Bakugo. That thought got Izuku to pull back finally, setting his face in a look of determination that could have rivalled Ochaco's during the sports festival.
"I, you guys, just...thank you so much. For believing me, for, for being here, and e-everything. But I have to go find Kacchan. I'm kind of worried and I-" Momo cut him off with a finger, just as Mei had done.
"We get it, Izuku," she said, pausing a moment at using his given name before shrugging. "Go ahead and talk to him. I think any other questions we have can wait, and besides we do need to be heading home soon." Looking at the clock, all save Mei whose head refused to turn from her blueprints, the gathered students collectively paled upon seeing the time.
"My train! I am not paying for another ticket today!" shouted Ochaco, fleeing the room alongside Iida, who it seemed was struggling to keep up.
"And I really shouldn't keep my chauffeur waiting any longer," said Momo apologetically, giving a small wave before she too slipped out the door. Izuku turned to look at Mei and Hitoshi, only one of whom was moving.
"Don't look at me man, I walk home. Not too far, anyways," said Hitoshi, looking at him with tired eyes. "Not like it really matters when I get back either. Hey, actually," he mused, eyes lighting up a bit when he spied a certain corner of the room, "mind if I use your...crash couch?" Izuku was already heading for the door when he turned and gave Hitoshi a quizzical look.
"Uhm, Hitoshi-kun, you don't have to ask permission. You're free to use whatever you need whenever you need. We're friends right?" Izuku flashed a grin before he dashed out of the room, not waiting for the other boy's response. Shrugging to himself, Hitoshi laid down on the surprisingly comfortable futon and turned his eyes to the room's other remaining occupant.
"So...uh. You uh, you like inventing things?" He ventured, not realizing he had sealed his fate once the question was past his lips. Like a shot, she was up out of her chair and over to him, the notebook she had been writing in set carefully aside as she zoomed up to him, one thing only on her mind.
"Ooh, do you wanna make a baby with me?" He choked on his own spit when she said it, and it took Hitoshi a while to stop coughing after hearing that.
Izuku found his friend in gym Delta, an indoor training facility constructed to withstand high energy emitter type quirk practice. The room was certainly fulfilling its purpose, if the numerous scattered bits of targets and scorch marks covering practically every surface were any indication. At least the walls were holding, for the moment. Sighing and letting the remainder of his smile drop from his face, Izuku flopped down into one of the chairs inside the reinforced observation booth. If Bakugo was going to go wild, it would take more than a few minutes for him to get it out of his system.
"I know you're in the booth you goddamn nerd. If you're just gonna stick around and watch why don't you be fucking useful and send some more bots in already." He growled out, surprising Izuku. He had thought he had been fairly quiet when he had entered, but somehow Bakugo had noticed him. Of course he had, he'd always had great situational awareness. Sighing, he leaned forward and played with the controls, releasing a small swarm of two pointers from the entrance exam.
If it were possible for robots to look afraid, then the crowd of twin tailed Imperials managed it. Bakugo hardly slowed down at all when the scorpion looking constructs descended, flipping around the air in burst after burst of light and heat, shattering metal shells and sending coiled wire innards spilling over the ground.
"More!" He demanded, and Izuku obliged, knowing his friend could handle it. The rocket pod laden Venators crawled from their own nook, sending explosions of their own against Bakugo's blasts, the missiles impacting all around him as he fired back at the bots. "More!" He screamed, and Izuku hesitated. "More, goddamnit!" Shrugging, he turned the dial to its maximum.
Every shutter around the room slammed open, Victory, Imperial, and Venator bots pouring out and raining blows down on Bakugo, who responded in kind. Two of his howitzer impacts blasted out into the metallic fiends, detonating the pods on a couple of Venators. The resulting cascade of explosions took out most of the remaining bots, except for a pair of Imperials that had been covered up by the rubble of their fallen comrades. Just as Bakugo had been turning towards the booth the two enemies rose up behind him, tails ready to strike.
"Kacchan, look out!" Yelled Izuku, activating his gauntlets and preparing a blast, only to be surprised when his friend casually threw an arm behind him and exploded the two robots without looking back, glaring all the while. "W-wow, good job Kacchan," Izuku said weakly, letting his arm fall and his armor retract.
"Tch, whatever shithead." He answered, slamming his back into the wall and sliding down to sit with his arms and head between his knees. After a moment's hesitation, Izuku joined him quietly. Bakugo growled at him, but made no hostile movement. "You should leave me the fuck alone if you know what's good for you, dickface."
"Kacchan please. I hung around for eleven years of crap trying to be friends again; we both know I don't know what's good for me." That got a weak snort from the other boy, but he still refused to look up at Izuku. "So, you gonna tell me what's wrong or do we have to have another fistfight on national television?" Another snort, then a muffled curse.
"Mmyllubdpertin," came the mumbled response.
"Kacchan, what?" His friend's shaggy mane was thrown back as his tight, angry eyes sought Izuku's. His pupils were dilated, and he looked so conflicted, Izuku wasn't sure if he was about to have a panic attack or start blowing things up again. Possibly it would be both simultaneously.
"I'm still a bad person," he said, eyes not leaving Izuku's steady gaze as he spoke.
"Kacchan, we went over this a week ago. No more apologizing or-" Bakugo cut him off with an angry shout.
"It's not about that! I, it is but...fuck!" He sat there angrily, panting a bit as he tore through his hair with both hands, dislodging bits of metal and wire that had gotten stuck there. "Fuck!" He shouted again, stamping his foot before kicking a wall and turning away again.
"Kacchan, I can't help you if you won't tell me what you mean by that!" Izuku shouted, rising to his own feet. The other boy rounded on him with fire in his eyes, barely controlled anger behind the snarl.
"Who the fuck do you think you are to offer me help?" The old memories tried to intervene at that, flashes of a log bridge and a broken friendship, but Izuku knew they were past that. He pressed on.
"I'm your friend who is not dealing with this shit again! We're not four, and I know you think that, 'words are for pussies,' but sometimes you need to use them alongside your actions, and now I'm using both to tell you that I want to help you to help yourself!" He had been gesturing wildly as he spoke, but dropped his hands to his sides when he finished, giving a sad, limp smile to Bakugo. "Besides, you were the one that said it's okay to have someone help you if it makes you stronger. Tell me what the problem is, Kacchan. Why do you think you're a bad person after everything you've done to prove that you're not?" Bakugo slumped, the fight going out of him at Izuku's plea. It was another minute before he finally answered, sliding back down the wall again with Izuku following his motion.
"I'm a bad person because, for a minute there, I stopped blaming my fucking self for what happened and started blaming whatever evil shitstain stole your quirk!" Izuku quirked an eyebrow, looking at Bakugo disbelievingly. "I thought, if you had your quirk growing up, maybe I wouldn't have hurt you. Maybe I wouldn't have been such an awful little cretin, and that everything that happened was all his fault for taking your quirk from you. That he turned me into who I was by stealing your quirk. But that's not true!"
"Kacchan," Izuku said, reaching a hand out for the other boy's shoulder, eyes shining with worry. He was shrugged off though as Bakugo turned his back on him, shaking with fury.
"It doesn't matter if you had your quirk stolen, or if you naturally didn't have a quirk, or if you had gotten a weak quirk, or even if it was you that I was hurting. I would have found someone else, someone weaker than me, and I still would have tormented them. I still would have done it all, I would have hurt people, because I liked it, Izuku. I liked hurting people. Who I was, I made myself that way. Circumstances helped, but I didn't have to let them. It was all my fault, and the first chance I got to not blame myself for it, I was ready to throw that guilt away onto some fuck that we don't know if he even exists."
"You can't know any of that, Kacchan," said Izuku softly, "you can't know that things wouldn't have changed. You know how it goes, 'for want of a nail,' and how it could cost a kingdom. You can't know if things would have been different, and it doesn't help you to imagine what could have been. Maybe without a free target that the school encouraged you to hit, things wouldn't have gotten so bad. Maybe if I had my quirk I would have been the one encouraged to hurt others. Maybe nothing would have changed no matter what." He grasped the other boy's still shaking shoulder and squeezed.
"You're not a bad person. Wanting to not feel guilty over something is normal. It's what motivates us to right our wrongs and to be better, but we're also still barely evolved chimps. Our brains rebel against our better nature all the time, finding paths of least resistance to travel down where they can. We have a natural desire to use as little energy as possible on any particular task. It's helpful, because it's efficient, but sometimes we ignore it, because the expedient solution isn't always the best one."
"So then it's the same as always. I have an instinct and I fucking jump on it like a goddamned animal. You talk about people having better impulses, well I don't have fucking any good impulses at all!"
"No, Kacchan, that's not fair to you. You recognize that instinct of yours for instant gratification, and you challenge it, and then turn and channel those feelings into training, into being a hero. Maybe catharsis is a load of crap, and maybe you smell like a dead robot and caramel sundae now, but you're trying, and you haven't hurt anyone since we came to UA. Through all the crap going on in your head right now, the first thing you said after I told you what happened was that you wanted to help me."
"You're a better person than you were, and every day you get a little bit better than the day before," Izuku continued. "That's why we're all here in the first place. We're all learning and growing and trying our best, and your best is good enough, Kacchan. Nobody ever told you that all while we were growing up, but you don't have to be perfect. It's okay to not be flawless, it's okay to have doubts, and it's okay to falter. Because you're Katsuki fucking Bakugo, the most badass hero in training I know, and one of the future number one heroes of his generation, and the mistakes of the past just help you to be better and stronger in the future."
The unexpected curse word got a weak laugh from Bakugo, which soon transitioned into body wracking guffaws. Izuku found himself joining in soon after, relief pouring off his shoulders as he finally pulled his friend into a one armed hug that he didn't fight off.
"Didn't we, haha, didn't we promise to stop this after the, pffft, festival?" Bakugo asked, wiping his eyes as they separated, utterly failing to contain his laughter. Izuku simply shrugged at him. "To think I'd need a Deku of all people to tell me it's okay to screw up. You're one of a kind, shitnerd, you really are."
"I'm really glad we're friends, Kacchan," said Izuku after a moment. He surveyed the remains of the robots and the scorch marks. "Just so you know, I'm not helping you clean this up."
"Fuck you too, Deku," barked Bakugo with a laugh. "I uh, I'm glad we're friends too. Now fuck off so I can start cleaning this shit up."
"Right," Izuku said, shaking his head and turning to leave. He paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder and worried his bottom lip. "Hey uh, one more thing?"
"Spit it out shithead," grumbled Bakugo, grabbing a broom and kicking a larger piece of robot shrapnel as he looked for the dustpan.
"Well uh, it's just. Everyone else is going by their first names with each other now, and you've always said you hated it, so do you uh, do you want me to stop calling you 'Kacchan'?" Izuku looked down and poked his fingers together. "I, uh, I c-can call you Bakugo if you'd prefer but I don't-"
"Katsuki's fine, fucking nerd," grunted Bakugo. "The other losers can call me that too, but I ain't gonna bother remembering their names, got it?" Izuku looked up to find his friend glaring daggers at the debris chute, a chunk of metal wedged sideways in it. "But 'Kacchan' is fine too. Do whatever. And uh, I guess I'll call you Izuku. Save 'Deku' for Cheeks, since she's the one that gave it a new meaning or whatever...fuck that's gonna be hard to drop." Izuku laughed, and Katsuki grunted at him.
"I wouldn't care if you still called me that, Kacchan. I already told you once that it doesn't mean what it used to mean, and I think that's true even to your ears now. Ochaco really did help me see it differently." Katsuki looked back, a mischievous smirk on his face.
"So, when're you gonna man up and ask her out or whatever?" Izuku blushed and turned to leave.
"Kacchan!" He shouted, almost out the door now. "Don't say things like that!" Not waiting for a response, Izuku ran into the corridor and out of view, Katsuki's cackling laughter following him all the way.
The final foundational heroics class of the week, and their last one before their internships, was devoted to public conduct and mock interview situations. It would have been a little anticlimactic were it nor for one thing; in the days after the sports festival, the students had been allowed to submit designs for their beta costumes, and Izuku had eagerly offered his insights to his immediate group of friends, and anyone else that had asked.
His own Mk III armor systems had drawn some appreciative comments, especially when Aizawa had demanded he provide a full accounting of everything he could do. Izuku had tried to argue his need to keep at least a few of his additions a secret, but then his teacher had called him illogical, and that had rankled him. Apparently since there wouldn't be any immediate competitions between students in the near future, it made more sense to freely share their capabilities with each other so they could work together more efficiently. He still wasn't entirely ready to deal with the teacher, even if he thought the man was way off, so he simply agreed and did as he was asked, though it had soured his mood considerably.
Since his peers were already well acquainted with his explosive and shock gauntlets, as well as his boosters and the newest addition of the flight module, he instead opted to key them in on the lethal countermeasures he had been given permission to use after Snipe's certification. The mounted cannons chambered in .308 on his shoulders drew some wary looks, which was absurd considering the danger posed by most of their quirks on a daily basis. Sure, they had gotten interrupted at the USJ, but Thirteen had still given her talk about quirk lethality after all, and at least most of them had been paying attention to that. Yaoyorozu could literally make practically any deadly substance on a whim, and god forbid she ever got it into her head to create some antimatter as a last ditch suicide attack. Half a gram would be enough to destroy roughly seven square kilometers, but apparently guns were too scary for them. Whatever.
Objections aside, even Izuku had to accept their reticence when he showed them the HMX micro-missiles. Even if nowhere near the potential destructive scale that some of his classmates could produce, an octogen payload was hardly something to be waved away, and the fact that his certification for those had to be conducted with Nezu directly rather than with Snipe as was normal for weapons qualifiers was not lost on him. His interaction with the principal had been significantly more strained than his time with Aizawa, and the feeling of distrust hadn't been allayed at all for their cordial meeting, despite the principal having cleared him to use the weapons with certain restrictions.
The final addition to his equipment was more of a replacement than anything else, though he was quite pleased with the results. The modified wire arrow had served well enough during the sports festival, but with the full integration of the flight module, it was hardly needed for its original purpose. Still, having an option for affecting either terrain or individuals from long range without having to resort to lethal force was too advantageous an opportunity to overlook, and so, Izuku had done what he did best. Observe, replicate, and incorporate.
The new system in the armor covering his forearms was based on a combination of Aizawa's carbon-weave capture weapon, and Sero's tape based quirk. Using a similar dispensing mechanism as the boy's elbows but miniaturized and somewhat streamlined, Izuku had integrated roughly ten meters of the specially manufactured fabric into a hidden compartment built into each of his gauntlets, courtesy of Mei's inhuman ability to procure materials and manufacture them quickly. While the two inventors certainly worked well together and were even roughly equal in technical ability at this point, Izuku was continuously amazed by the pace at which she could work.
After running through his own costume changes and getting some feedback from his classmates, mostly to be flashier, it was time to move on to the others. Each in turn went over their own costume and gear changes, as well as any techniques or discoveries they had made after the festival. Aizawa had called it logical, to know one's teammates' abilities and options, which admittedly made sense since they would likely be cooperating far more often than not from then on, but Izuku didn't have to be happy about it.
Of the students who had altered their costumes, Iida's had changed the least aesthetically of everyone that had submitted full updates anyways. His suit retained its overall knightley design but was much sleeker. The blockiness that pervaded it was now rounded down and flattened in certain places to increase the aerodynamics of the armor plating. His exhaust pipes were thinner and repositioned to his sides from where they had wrapped around his midsection. His visor was likewise improved and widened to allow for better visibility, along with an onboard computer and radio system, and the glaring weakness of the inflexible torso had been rectified by employing a material similar to the one Izuku had used for his own updated suit, giving the boy much greater freedom of motion when executing his kicks. On the practical side, the cooling system for his legs had been upgraded to be roughly twice as effective as well, following Yaoyorozu's generous offer to create special materials for the class' costumes when Mei had suggested it.
Yaoyorozu herself had a substantial redesign to her costume, much to her satisfaction, as well as Mineta's relief, who could now look at her without slapping himself across the face. Where before she had opted for a more sporty look, if it could generously be called that, her new costume was reminiscent of the robes worn by Shinto priests. A deep red shozoku that was open on her back and along the sides of her legs protected her modesty while making the most of the limited material they could obtain. The material in question had, thankfully, been made with Yaoyrozu's DNA woven into the fabric, and would allow her to manifest created objects from any angle or place on her person, even her covered front. If Izuku were honest, he thought she looked pretty badass in the new suit, and much more confident in her movements and posture without the fear of a wardrobe malfunction.
Mineta's...unfortunate "bowl of grapes" motif had been replaced entirely by a pair of white baggy pants held up by a black belt and a golden buckle, sporting a stylized purple "M" on its center. His cape had been swapped out for a black and gold vest, though he had retained the purple undersuit and cowl, along with his yellow boots and gloves, though they too were significantly less flared. He flashed Izuku a thumbs up when he saw him, and Izuku offered one back. While not as practical as he would have liked, he was glad the short boy would at least have an easier time moving around, and would present fewer targets for grappling without the more obvious deficiencies of his costume.
Shinso...looked like a smaller, purple Aizawa wearing the bottom half of Darth Vader's mask, with his own, slightly thinner, capture weapon coiled around his neck and shoulders. Izuku had at least persuaded the boy to add some portable bluetooth speakers, which while not effective with his quirk (and they would be looking into the mechanics behind that later on, Izuku had sworn) would be useful for confusing and disorienting opponents. He had also convinced him to carry some extra weapons, including a pair of escrima and a knife. An empty holster on his left leg promised the addition of some kind of handgun once the boy qualified for his own lethal weapons handling certification.
Bakugo had changed very little about his look, beside significantly sleeker gauntlets and some reworked protection around his head and neck, as well as decibel activated headphones that would better protect his hearing. Hopefully the boy would be able to avoid giving himself tinnitus if he were careful to use them when training, despite his existing quirk adaptation doing a decent job of deafening his blasts to his own ears.
A few others had made similarly sensible changes to their costumes; Jirou and Kaminari both had more protection woven under their sleeker, leather jacket rocker looks, copying some of Present Mic's material choices for their costumes. Hagakure assured them that she now had an invisible jumpsuit in a very garish yellow that only she and her family could see. Kirishima likewise now had a form fitting shirt that had been made with his DNA, hardening alongside the rest of his body with his quirk when activated.
Sato, Shoji, Mina, Tsu, Ojiro, Sero, and Koda had all opted for integrating some more protective elements into their costumes, covering their vitals especially but otherwise keeping their original designs in their entirety. Flexibility and agility were their main concern after all.
Aoyama, despite asking for Izuku's help in his redesign, had refused to budge on the cape but had managed to slim down his costume's profile somewhat, opting for even more of the focus points that would let him direct his quirk in different directions. The glasses had likewise been slimmed down into a visor that wrapped around his head.
Tokoyami had obtained a set of armor similar to Aoyama's under his cloak, but more reminiscent of a crusader's plate mail, something Izuku resolved to ask him about at a later time. Perhaps the boy had an interest in medieval history? If so, he had some interesting books on the subject that might have been of interest to his avian friend.
Todoroki had thankfully done away with his abominable white fatigues and half body ice armor in favor of a reinforced navy blue jumpsuit with a grey breastplate made from some kind of polymer, along with some cream colored pouches and a utility belt. The boy had been more reserved since the aftermath of the Sports Festival, not really sneering at him anymore or even looking in his direction, except when he thought Izuku wouldn't notice. It was strange, but it didn't feel dangerous or even as disgusted as it had been before, so Izuku let it be.
And then there was Ochaco, whose redesigned costume they had worked on together for many hours in what free time they had spent in each other's company. And she was, in his opinion, absolutely glorious in her new suit.
The spandex had been entirely retooled into a more loose fitting pink and black flightsuit, the kind they had found pictures of astronauts wearing on the old ISS. Puffy ribbing along the upper arms was exactly as she had originally envisioned it, and combined with the breastplate, gauntlets, and greaves she wore, one could have easily mistaken her for some kind of vision of the classic 50s space explorer, especially with her new and improved helmet design.
It wasn't the gyros hidden in her gauntlets and greaves, or the grapple lines that had been built into the wrists, or even the pockets for ammunition to use with her quirk, but something about the costume absolutely screamed powerful in his mind. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, embarrassment left behind with the old skin tight look to be replaced by sheer confidence in her own capability, and a burning desire to save others that shone through above everything else about the ensemble. Ochaco was here to save people, provide for her loved ones, and be the absolute best hero she could ever be. When faced with that, it was all Izuku could do to mutter, 'radiant,' under his breath while trying not to go blind from staring at the light she was emitting.
"Hmm, did you say something, Deku?" She asked, quirking her head to one side as she joined him with the rest of the class. Realizing his minor error he quickly stammered a denial, and completely failed to notice her own slightly pinker than normal cheeks as she just giggled at him.
"Right, good work on your costume updates and redesigns all around," said Aizawa levelly. "Heroes are nearly always updating their gear and appearance as advances are made and new support tech becomes available, so it's good that you learn now to adapt to a constantly changing field. That said, today's the last foundational heroics class before your internships, so we'll be going over public interactions and professionalism in your presentation while on the field, as well as standard scene entry procedures for first aid situations. Yamada-sensei and Kayama-sensei will be assisting in the former today, while Recovery Girl will be helping with the latter. Any questions?"
Surprisingly it was Koda who raised his hand, looking more nervous even than was normal.
"Uhm, Aizawa-sensei," he squeaked, voice very small amongst his classmates, "is All Might unable to teach today, like at the USJ?" There was an uncomfortable murmur at that, but none were as uncomfortable as Izuku. He couldn't help but feel that the man was avoiding him, a notion that Aizawa's explanation did little to discourage.
"He's being irrational, but he's nearby in case of emergency. I would encourage you all not to worry about that however; please trust me when I say that the safety of our students is our number one priority here, and that another incident like the USJ attack will not be allowed to happen." He paused, surveying the class without his usual glare, simply looking at them from over his crossed arms. He sighed and continued. "If there are no more questions, then let's get to work."
"Yes, sensei!" The class chorused, though Izuku couldn't quite shake the feeling of a yawning pit forming in his stomach. It was an uncomfortable sensation, and one totally different from the emptiness he normally felt where he suspected his quirk once was. Somehow, it felt even more personal than that particular wound ever had, and it hurt all the more for it. Still, at least with time, this one would have a better chance to heal.
The weekend passed fairly quietly, Izuku hugging his mother as tightly as possible on Monday morning before heading to the train station, one rolling bag bouncing along behind him as he walked. His interface was pleasantly warm against the back of his neck even as the May weather began to heat up. The smattering of people who he had come to expect asking for autographs or berating him for his quirklessness on his normal commute were finally starting to lose interest as the sports festival became further and further removed from their minds.
Arriving outside the gates of UA, Izuku was surprised at the sheer scale of the internships. Busses were arrayed around the front of campus, all with placards on the side indicating their various destinations. Izuku found himself surprised to see nearly the entire first year student body gathered around, the hero courses mixing in with business, support, and general ed students as they all congregated around their appropriate busses. Teachers were all milling about, helping students find their appropriate spots, along with a few TA's.
"Ahem, attention first years, your attention please," chirped Nezu from Aizawa's shoulder. The gaunt man somehow managed to move through the crowded space with ease, a testament to his abilities as he seemed to melt and disappear from one group to another. Now however he was standing at the front of the crowd, looking unhappily up at Nezu. "In about five minutes the busses are scheduled to take you all to your appropriate train stations for your six day internships and experiences. Teachers will give you your tickets as you board. Business students, please remember only to access UA's central servers over secured connections. Support students, your tool cases are to remain locked until you arrive at your internships. Hero course, the same goes for your costume cases. General education, your advanced curriculum packets are to remain sealed until the proctors at the colleges you will be visiting instruct you to open them. All right everyone, please remember to be on your best behavior as representatives of UA, and enjoy your time away from campus."
There was something of a cheer at that, though the nervous energy that suffused the gathered students resulted in a weaker shout than even the one from the entrance exam. Izuku couldn't help but snicker a bit at Nezu's momentary look of disappointment, feeling a bit better about the whole thing. He was still nervous about his internship - he'd be away from basically his entire friend group after all. He had greeted them all already at the gate, exchanging a hug with Ochaco that had lasted a while longer than normal once he had told her where he would be going. She had made him promise to be safe, and he had demanded the same from the rest of them.
As he made for the bus bound for Tokyo he felt a sudden hand on his shoulder, a reassuring and familiar grip that was never painful and always willing to let go if he needed it to. Turning, Izuku locked eyes with the simple features of his best friend and older brother. He smiled at him brightly, but there was clearly some pain behind it. Tamaki and Nejire stood a little ways back from him.
"Aren't you heading the wrong way, Izukun? The bus for Sir's agency is over here," said Mirio, already knowing the answer. Izuku supposed he just wanted to be wrong, not that he could blame him. Being in his presence, seeing all the kindness that he held in his heart for those around him but especially for Izuku, he couldn't help but let out a dejected sigh. Mirio withdrew his hand.
"I know, aniki. I, uh I'm not interning with Sir this time. I d-don't, I mean," he poked his fingertips together, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I don't think I'm m-mad anymore; I understand why you c-couldn't tell me, I think anyways. But until the air is c-cleared I just don't think I c-can, I can-" He was cut off as Mirio pulled him into a hug, Nejire and Tamaki stepping up and placing a hand on his back and ruffling his hair respectively.
"It's okay, Izukun. I understand. Just promise me you'll learn a lot and show them your power, okay?" Izuku sniffled a bit and nodded, letting out a weak chuckle.
"T-thanks Mirio, guys. I really, really appreciate it." He paused for a moment, reflecting as he was released from Mirio's embrace. "Oh! I remember what I needed to do now," he chirped, rummaging through his yellow backpack for a moment before withdrawing a large white pill case and handing it to a very surprised Tamaki.
"I uh, this is for you, senpai. It's uhm. Don't worry about the source, it's all lab grown, but I thought, well, you'll see. Nejire, Mirio, I'll have stuff for both of you later, but Tamaki's was easiest to make so uhm, yeah. Tell me how it goes, okay?" With that he ran off, not waiting to see their reactions as he scampered into the crowd of students and made his way to the bus bound for the Tokyo station. Kayama-sensei handed him a train pass as he hopped on, taking a moment to bop him on the shoulder and wish him good luck with a flirtatious wink that he managed to laugh off. Surveying the interior he found that he was the last to board, with only one seat open in a rather unfortunate spot. Resigned to his fate, he moved over and sat down, doing his best to avoid eye contact with his seatmate.
"Midoriya," hummed Todoroki, a simple nod of his head accompanying the greeting before he closed his eyes and leaned back. "I see you are also interning with my father."
"I uh, y-yeah, Todoroki, I am." The other boy didn't move when he replied.
"If I know my father, you'll likely be staying at our house instead of at the agency during the evenings."
"Oh," was all Izuku managed in response. Todoroki only hummed and said nothing more, for all the world doing an excellent impression of a statue. Izuku settled back into the seat, looking at him quizzically. This was going to be a...weird experience.
Ujiko smiled as a spray of blood splattered across his face, dripping down his goggles and into his bushy mustache. There was always that little spike of blood pressure when he connected the final implants, that brief moment of the body realizing something foreign was asserting its control. Forget the foreign quirks, forget the hormones and chemicals, this final implant, which worked its way down through the flesh and blossomed the skull itself back like the petals of a flower, ah, this was what made a Nomu, well, a Nomu.
He watched as the device finally finished its work, the small port opening itself up at the base of the exposed brain. He had discussed equipping the beasts with helmets of some kind once they were sent out for field work, but then, Master had his own little eccentricities that no one could begrudge him. An effective terrorist implement needed to inspire terror after all, and he was quite sure that the bulbous, unseeing eyes and exposed brains were off putting to those with normal sensibilities.
Alas, that was the last of his work for the day, the box of implants sadly exhausted. He would have to program the Nomu in the morning, once the alterations had settled more properly in its new body, but it would be the last for a while. At least until Master's latest plans came to fruition. Ah, so much to be gained, but they would undoubtedly lose some of their lovely Nomu in the effort, a thought that came as close to saddening Ujiko as anything ever could anymore. Ah well, overwriting what remained of the base's personality would be fun, at least. They always screamed so beautifully when they realized their minds were being unmade. Whistling, he wiped himself down and discarded his scrubs for a set of more comfortable clothing before he left the workshop for the day
It was only when he was in his quarters, a plush, well appointed room with thick carpet that rolled up pleasantly underneath his sore feet, that he finally dropped his smile. Turning towards the wall where his bureau and desk sat, Ujiko found himself plopping down into the rolling chair he favored, staring at his fingers as they flashed back and forth between their scalpel transformation, and his normal flesh. He heaved a heavy sigh before rubbing his temples just enough to work out a bit of the stress, but not too much that he would get careless. Grumbling, he pulled the tablet of paper he kept in the top drawer out from his desk, and extracted the set of pencils and inks he kept deeper within. It was the only way to get the damn urges to stop, after all.
Humming, he began to draw, sketching out curves and lines in flowing motions that were only amplified by the steady surgeon's hands he had cultivated over the years. The pencil flew across the page, only requiring sharpening once, which was quickly taken care of with a flick of his fingers, and then he was back to work. A series of charcoal smudges were added into the mix once the basic shape of his creation had been committed to the page. All the while he listened half-heartedly to the Dvorak playing in the background, the usual associations of the music with his bloody work entirely absent from his mind. At last, the damnable drawing was done, and he felt the pressure in his mind release a bit. Breathing out in relief he crumpled the paper, a drawing of his, no, of Tsubasa's grandson, into a ball and tossed it into his bin where it joined its comrades.
Relieved, he leaned back into his chair and enjoyed the music, conjuring up the images of flayed skin and shattered bones as the swell and fall of the melody carried him off into a fitful, restless sleep. In the back of his mind, something stirred, barely placated, before it slunk back into the recesses of his subconscious. It wasn't ready, not yet, but it would be eventually, and for now, waiting was all it could do.