Chapter 6
Bleep! Bleep! Bleep! Bleep!
The alarm on Izuku's phone blared insistently, pulling him from a good night's sleep. One of the best he has ever had in a long time. He sat up in bed and let out a big yawn, his room plain and dim, with pre-dawn light filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow.
Izuku was excited to start another day at the Ryukyu Agency.
I can't believe it's already the second week.
The days were moving at a different pace now, peeling away layers of the loneliness that had defined him for so long. The raw nerves he'd felt on his first day were gone, replaced by a tentative sense of belonging—a tether keeping him from the abyss that had almost claimed him.
He exited his room to take a morning shower, spotting Mom already in the kitchen, her movements deliberate as she prepared a bento box. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. "Good morning, Izuku!" She said with a proud smile while wiping her hands with a towel. "Breakfast is ready. I'm putting the last touches on your lunch."
"Thanks, Mom," Izuku replied before heading into the bathroom.
As the warm water dripped down his body, Izuku thought back to coming home late from the agency after his first day. Mom—having seen the news of the sludge villain attack—nearly crushed Izuku in a bear hug. Honestly, he should have expected her to find out about that. He managed to calm her down and explained everything that had happened on his first day—both the good and the scary parts.
I'm not going to hide anything from her anymore. Not after what it had done to her. What I had done to her.
A pang of self-loathing would pop up in his chest at random for making her worry. It made a part of him wish that he were working as a proper employee of the Ryukyu Agency. He was grateful for the position Ryukyu had given him—he'd never imagined getting it in a million years.
Still, is it selfish to want to be paid for the work I'm doing? Villains can strike anywhere and when least expected. If anything were to happen to me, I would want Mom to be well-off.
Izuku shook his head, forcing those dark thoughts out of his mind. He shouldn't be focusing on what-if scenarios; his brain is better served by getting good grades and helping the agency prosper.
The train ride from school and the walk to the agency felt like a blur. Nejire would typically be there to greet him, but she had already been sent out on patrol. After clocking in, Izuku changed out of his school uniform into a simple button-up shirt and slacks, and Aquawoman handed him his list of duties for the day as Ryukyu was indisposed.
He took the elevator up to the Bullpen—greeting the passing Brock and Swift with quiet nods—and sat at his workstation, getting to work immediately. Today, he was reviewing patrol footage and recording notes on villain patterns—as well as making notes of potential Quirk synergies and who would be best to send on specific missions.
As the day wore on, Izuku—his notebooks open beside the screens—noted a spike in petty criminals with emitter-type Quirks in certain districts, potential strategies where Ryukyu's dragon form could counter effectively, or how Nejire could end the fight without using too much energy.
We'll have to test these out in simulations before employing them in the field.
By evening, exhaustion hit Izuku, but so did a quiet pride.
Man, who knew sitting at a desk and writing reports all day could be so draining? Still, I got a lot done.
It was a slow day, but progressive, nonetheless.
Izuku's eyes fell on a clock on the wall, and that's when he realized something. "Oh, I forgot to take my break," he said to himself. "No wonder I'm feeling lightheaded. I got so wrapped up in my work. I should hand my report to Ryukyu first."
Izuku got up and walked to the door of Ryukyu's office, holding his written work in one hand.
Knock-knock-knock.
"Come in," she responded.
Izuku opened the door and stepped inside. Ryukyu was behind her desk, reviewing the case related to the one Togata brought to the agency on Sir Nighteye's behalf. "Sorry to bother you, but I have the report you wanted."
Getting closer to the desk, Izuku caught a quick glimpse of the file, which included a picture of a white-haired little girl with a single small horn and red, innocent-looking eyes that tugged at his heart. But that's all he saw before Ryukyu closed the file.
"Thank you, Midoriya." Ryukyu held out her hand as Izuku handed his written work to her, raising an eyebrow at the first page. "Detailed as always."
"Thank you." Izuku bowed respectfully before taking his leave.
"Hey, hey, Izuku! Izuku! Izuku! Hey, hey, Izuku!"
The boy barely had time to turn before Nejire appeared in front of him, hovering half a meter above the floor thanks to a gentle spiral of Wave Motion energy that puffed her hair outward like cotton candy. She seemed more excited than usual—which was saying a lot—as she bounced like an excited hummingbird made of pure sunshine.
"Oh, Nejire. What are you doing back here?"
"Starting to run a bit empty, so I came back here to refuel."
"Oh, I was going to grab a bite to eat, too."
"Perfect timing!" She exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug that made his cheeks heat up before grabbing his wrist—not roughly, but with enough enthusiasm to drag him before he registered his feet moving. "You'll never guess who's visiting today?"
"Um, Togata and Amajiki?"
"Nope! Well, yes, but not just them. Yuyu's here!" Nejire practically sang.
Izuku blinked. "Yuyu?"
"Yuyu Haya! My friend from school! Also goes by Electri-Gal! She's a sidekick for the Pussycats!"
"As in The Wild, Wild Pussycats?"
"Same ones! She's a total sweetheart when you get to know her! Really sharp Quirk! Oh—oh, you have to meet her! You'll love analyzing her!"
She clasped her hands under her chin like the idea physically delighted her, bouncing… no, vibrating.
"I—I mean, I'd be honored, but—"
"Oh, don't worry!" Nejire waved away his worries with a sparkle in her eye. "She bites strangers sometimes, but only emotionally."
"That… doesn't reassure me."
Nejire giggled. "Well, c'mon, c'mon, already."
As they approached the elevator door, it opened, and the BMI Hero: Fat Gum ambled through, his rotund form clad in a yellow jacket, a bag of snacks in hand, his jolly face split into a wide grin.
Following behind him was Japan's tenth-ranked Pro Hero, the Aqua Hero: Gang Orca—a towering figure with killer-whale-like features, piercing red eyes, and a costume that looked like a white business suit with a high collar, pink tie, and black cape that made him look like… well, a gangster. His stern and imposing demeanor made the boy shrink back instinctively.
Though I don't like these kinds of polls being a thing, I suppose there's a reason he ranked third among heroes who look like villains.
Fat Gum noticed Izuku and lumbered over to him. "You must be Midoriya, right?" He asked with infectious warmth. "Amajiki told me about you joining Ryukyu's team."
"The new intern we've heard about?" Orca asked, his voice deep and rumbling, but not unkind.
"Oh, yes, sirs!" Izuku quickly answered both men. "I am!"
Orca extended his massive hand, careful not to crush Izuku's in the shake. "Ryukyu speaks highly of you. Takes real courage to do this kind of work, especially at your age."
"Th-thank you… Mr. Gang Orca, Sir." Izuku nodded, still a bit intimidated, but quickly shifted to inspired, a quiet respect that bolstered Izuku's confidence.
"If you've got heart, you're golden. Looking forward to working with you." Fat Gum rummaged in his snack bag and pulled out a steaming box of takoyaki, the octopus-filled dough balls still hot and glistening with sauce. "Here, kid! Fresh from the vendor outside."
There was a takoyaki vendor outside…
"Oh, um… thank you, Mr. Fat Gum," Izuku expressed, bowing his head.
"Just Fat Gum is fine," the BMI Hero said with a smile before leaving with Gang Orca for Ryukyu's office.
"Gang Orca can be a bit gruff, but he's a softie deep down," Nejire told him. "And Fat Gum is so cute, like a giant marshmallow."
While Izuku agreed with Nejire's assessments, his mind was at war with itself.
One part of him wanted to leave the two Pros alone and eat, especially since the takoyaki smelled good; the other wanted to talk with them and share his notes on their respective Quirks—Orcinus and Fat Absorption. But Izuku chose the former option and left with Nejire for the café.
Izuku had a feeling he would become acquainted with other heroes who collaborated with the Dragoon Hero's agency.
YES!
"Hey, Izuku!" Togata called out to him and Nejire from a table, sitting down with Amajiki, half-hidden behind his broad shoulder, and fidgeting with the sleeve of his costume.
Izuku waved back to the two of them. "Hello, Togata. Hello, to you too, Amajiki."
"And you don't have to be formal with us," Togata continued. "You're Nejire's friend, so that makes you one of ours. Call us Mirio and Tamaki."
"O-okay, Mirio, Tamaki—what are you both doing here?" Izuku asked.
"Well…" Tamaki began. "I'm here because… well, Fat Gum and Ryukyu have a joint patrol… which Gang Orca's joining in… so, yeah…"
"And I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing," Mirio told him. "You working hard? Or hardly working?"
Also at the table was a teenage girl with short, salmon-pink hair wearing a black and purple bodysuit that covered everything but her shoulders, a white chest-strap belt with a paw-print insignia on the middle pouch, and white boots. Her domino mask cast a striking contrast against her otherwise gentle-looking face.
She must be Haya.
Her face didn't show emotion much—but her posture did. Her shoulders stiffened, and her chin tilted up. "Oh," she said coolly before looking at Nejire. "So, this is the intern you wouldn't stop talking about?"
Izuku froze at first, then bowed immediately, more out of panic than politeness.
"I—I'm Midoriya! Izuku Midoriya! It's an honor to meet a Pro Hero—well, sidekick—but professional nonetheless—"
"Stop talking."
He stopped.
Nejire clapped her hands. "Yuyu, be nice! He's amazing!"
"I will decide that for myself." Haya crossed her arms, keeping her eyes on Izuku. "Nejire keeps telling us that you're 'really smart' and 'brave' and 'super adorable.'"
Nejire gasped. "I didn't say adorable!"
"You said it twice during lunch."
"She did," Mirio confirmed.
"Um… Yeah…" Amajiki corroborated.
Nejire pouted. "Don't gang up on me!"
Izuku felt his soul leave his body.
Haya was polite to Nejire—a little stiff, but comfortable. And she seemed friendly towards Mirio and Amajiki. But with Izuku? Cold as polished steel. It only made Izuku stand straighter somehow as he fought the urge to shrink into himself. He knew that feeling of someone waiting for him to prove he deserved to exist in the room at all.
Tamaki cleared his throat. "Uh… Nejire… told us about your notebooks. The impressive drawings. The, um… the blocks of text. And the breakdowns. And well…"
"What Tamaki's trying to ask is if you could analyze us," Mirio explained.
Tamaki's ears turned bright pink, turning nuclear red, and his shoulders curled inward like he was trying to fold himself into a pocket dimension. "I-I guess… that's… the other reason why we came…"
Izuku's eyes went sparkling wide like stars in a hero analysis binge, the way they always did when someone handed him a live research subject on a silver platter. He couldn't have asked for a better opportunity to learn more about Nejire's friends and take notes on their Quirks.
Izuku had already asked Mirio about his Quirk when they first met, had a basic understanding of how it worked, and had it written down in his notebook. So, he started with Tamaki's Quirk—Manifest.
This is amazing!
Izuku flipped to a blank double-page spread, and his pen was already uncapped before Tamaki was done nodding; he was eagerly hovering over a new page in his notebook. "Nejire only told me a simplified version of how Manifest works, but a Quirk that lets you get traits from things you've eaten sounds useful. Are you able to choose which parts to change? How does the process of choosing work? Do you have to picture it, or do you know it?"
Tamaki moved around uncomfortably, pulling his hood down over his face and staring at the floor. His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. "Uh... It's mostly instinct now that I've been doing it for years. I think about what I ate, and it… Well, manifests. But it has to be ingested around six to eight hours ago to work best."
Izuku nodded angrily and wrote notes at a speed of Mach Five. "Interesting! So, digestion is a part of the integration period. How about variety? Can you mix more than one manifestation at a time, or is there only one main source for each transformation?"
Mirio put his arm around Tamaki's shoulder before he could even mumble a response, grinning. "Show him what you got!"
Tamaki's mood seemed to flip like a switch, becoming less withdrawn. "O-okay... ... don't laugh." He hesitated, glancing at Izuku with wide, anxious eyes, as he stole one of Izuku's takoyaki balls, whispered a tiny "sorry" that Izuku definitely caught, and popped it into his mouth. He chewed quickly while averting his gaze, then a soft glow seemed to ripple under his skin for a split second—subtle, but Izuku caught it.
"Wow, that was fast absorption," Izuku murmured, leaning in. "How long until—"
Tamaki extended his right hand, his fingers splaying. In an instant, they elongated and twisted, the skin shifting to a slick, purplish hue as suckers popped open one by one with soft, wet sounds, each cup flexing experimentally and blooming along the undersides.
His digits—transformed into writhing octopus tentacles, flexible and strong—coiled slightly in the air before he used them to deftly pick up another takoyaki from the box—with permission—and pop it into his mouth. The tentacles moved with eerie precision, almost like independent limbs.
"Oh!" Izuku's jaw dropped, his pen flying across the page. "Incredible! The suckers—that's from the octopus in the takoyaki, right? What about adhesion strength? Can you control them individually? And does it affect your sense of touch?"
"Y-yeah... Octopus suckers for sticking or ripping. I can feel textures more clearly than usual, but... It's overwhelming sometimes." Tamaki wiggled the tentacles, demonstrating how one curled around Izuku's pen—also with permission—to hand it back effortlessly. "Mixing works if I've eaten multiple things close together. Like... chicken for claws or clams for shells. And... the more I eat, the stronger and longer it lasts, but... overdoing it makes me nauseous."
Mirio chuckled warmly with arms crossed. "Tamaki's Manifest is no joke; it has saved our bacon more than I can count while on patrol. He is like a buffet of tactical options."
Izuku smiled as he drew the tentacle fingers and added bullet-point breakdowns. "This is great! Thanks a lot, Tamaki."
Tamaki smiled a little, still looking at the table. "It's nice to hear it sound smart instead of… of, um… creepy."
"It's not creepy!" Izuku said instantly, so earnestly his voice squeaked again. "It's one of the most adaptable transformation Quirks I've ever documented! With the right meal plan, you could counter almost any opponent type—hard counters for elemental, speed, strength, defense—"
Togata clapped down on Izuku's shoulder—gentler this time. "Midoriya. Breathe."
He cut himself off, realizing he was practically vibrating. So, Izuku took Togata's advice. He breathed in and out. Slowly. "Sorry. Got carried away."
Tamaki's smile grew a millimeter. "It's… okay. You're, um… really thorough."
Haya crossed her arms. "Tch. He's just observant. I'm more curious about your intentions with Nejire, Midoriya."
My intentions? Wait, does Haya think I'm trying to woo Nejire? Ha! As if that would ever happen. I mean, she's way out of my league.
Still, Izuku wanted to make a good impression on Haya and change her opinion of him.
"If you don't mind, Haya… Could I… may I analyze your Quirk?" Izuku asked, trying to keep his voice steady, respectful.
Haya blinked. "You want to analyze my Quirk? There's nothing special about it, just another electric-based Quirk."
"First of all, Electric Arrow is definitely not just 'another electric-based Quirk,'" Mirio told her. "We've all seen what you could do with it."
"Yeah, it's super cool," Nejire added. "Come on, let Izuku analyze you, please." She gave Haya big puppy-dog eyes with an adorable pout, and, despite her willpower, the salmon-haired girl looked like she was cracking like an egg.
"Fine," Haya yielded. "He can analyze me to his heart's content."
"Woohoo!" Nejire cheered.
A long metal bench in the agency's gym creaked a little as four teenagers sat on it. Tamaki sat at the far end, hunched over with his forehead against a support beam, as if he were trying to merge his body with the building. Mirio sat with his usual wide stance and grinned, while Nejire swung her legs back and forth, humming a cheerful tune. Between the two of them, Izuku sat with his notebook already open, his pen hovering dangerously close to the paper.
In the center of the target practice zone, Haya adjusted her elbow-length fingerless gloves. She shook out her shoulders, red hair shifting, and looked back at the group. Her expression was a mix of focus and mild impatience.
"Alright," Haya said, turning her gaze toward the silhouette of the dummy target twenty meters away. "Let's get this over with."
She raised her right arm. The air around her seemed to tighten.
Crackle!
Sparks danced along her right forearm, coalescing rapidly into a jagged, humming projectile at her fingertips. With her left hand, she reached for the sparks and pulled them back, physically mimicking the drawing of an invisible bowstring. The electricity stretched, tension building with a high-pitched whine. She released her grip, and the bolt flew—a streak of pink light that hissed through the air and struck the target's chest with precision.
Izuku was vibrating.
I've seen plenty of electric-based Quirks before, but not one like this. I guess that's why it's called Electric Arrow.
"R-right!" Izuku stammered, his eyes wide. He scribbled a header furiously, then looked up, pen poised. "So, from what I just saw, is the 'arrow' literal? Are you converting your bioelectricity into a physical projection rather than just a loose discharge?"
Haya lowered her arm, looking over her shoulder with a raised brow. She seemed surprised he was asking rather than just staring. "Essentially. I shape the current into a 'bolt' before release."
"And the generation method?" Izuku pressed, eyes darting between her and his notes. "Do you generate the charge through your skin, or are you channeling it through specialized musculature in your arms all the way to your fingers?"
"It flows through the muscle fibers," Haya answered, turning fully to face him. "But I have to focus it manually."
"That requires incredible control," Izuku muttered, writing fast. "But what about dissipation? Over that distance, the voltage should drop."
"My costume helps with that." She tapped the reinforced fabric on her forearm. "It's made of a material to help stabilize the output and prevent the electricity from dispersing before I can fire it."
"Fascinating!" Izuku beamed. "So, the structure of the arrows allows for precision strikes, and presumably a secondary function to 'ground' excess energy through impact?"
Haya nodded slowly. "You catch on quick."
"One last thing," Izuku said, his voice dropping to a softer, more reverent tone. "With the amount of control you displayed, and the lack of scorch marks on the target... your Quirk is acting more like a stun-type weapon. Wired for precision. Non-lethal."
Haya stiffened slightly, her calm demeanor cracking just a fraction.
"That tells me you care about minimizing harm," Izuku concluded earnestly. "When accounting for your amperage output and probable nerve-conductive tolerance, I calculated your battle limit at around—"
"Stop!" Haya barked, her cheeks flushing a sudden, betraying shade of pink. She crossed her arms defensively, cutting off his muttering.
Mirio let out a hearty laugh, slapping his knee, while Tamaki peeked out from behind his hands to witness the rare sight of Haya losing her cool.
"I'm sorry, did I overstep—" Izuku began to ask.
"Nah," Nejire told him, leaning forward, resting her chin in her palms, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she looked at her flustered friend. "She's just getting all shy because you figured her out. It's cute."
"It's not! I'm not! I—" Haya snapped, though she refused to make eye contact with the green-haired boy, turning away from him. "He's just annoyingly perceptive."
Nejire giggled, floating a few inches off the bench in her delight. "That's a compliment in Yuyu's language."
"Nejire!" Haya huffed and turned back to the target to break the awkward silence. She moved the cuff of her glove, and her voice dropped to a whisper that she probably thought no one else would hear, but in the quiet gym, it was easy to hear. "Whatever. You're thinking too much about it. At the end of the day, it's just another electric-based Quirk. A dime a dozen in this field."
The writing in Izuku's notebook came to a sudden stop, and the silence that followed wasn't the same kind of awkward silence as before. It was the heavy, confused silence of a mathematician who had just heard someone say that two plus two equals five. Izuku looked up, his face showing that he was really confused.
"Why would you say that?" Izuku asked, his voice cutting through the gym's low hum.
Haya froze. She glanced back, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Say what?"
"You keep calling it 'just another electric-based Quirk,'" Izuku said, closing his notebook. He stood up, taking a few steps toward the practice zone. "But statistically, most electric heroes are Area-of-Effect blasters. They're indiscriminate. But you have control over yours, making it incredibly rare."
Haya turned fully around, her arms crossed tight over her chest. She didn't look at Izuku. Instead, her gaze drifted past him, lingering for a second on Mirio's broad grin, then Tamaki's intense shyness, and finally settling on Nejire, who—despite sitting—managed to float.
"Look at them, Midoriya," Haya said, her voice flat. "Mirio can phase through matter. Tamaki can become anything. And Nejire... Nejire can level a city block if she stops holding back."
She looked down at her own hands, flexing the fingers inside the black gloves.
"I shoot sparks," she said, a bitter edge creeping into her tone. "I'm a nobody compared to what the three of them can do... It's not exactly something to write a thesis about."
Overhearing them, Nejire was about to open her mouth to speak, to defend her friend, but Izuku beat her to it. "You're wrong." It wasn't shouted. It was stated with the absolute, unwavering certainty of a fact.
Haya blinked, startled by the firmness in his tone. "Excuse me?"
"You're judging a scalpel by its ability to act like a sledgehammer," Izuku said. "Sure, Nejire and the others are powerhouses. They can break lines and secure areas. But raw power has blind spots. It has collateral damage."
Izuku gestured toward the target Haya had hit. The dummy was intact, save for the single, precise mark over the 'heart.'
"If a villain has a hostage, Nejire's waves might be too dangerous if she doesn't know where to aim. Mirio might not make it in time. And as soon as Tamaki uses his Quirk, the villain could panic and hurt the hostage. But you?" Izuku pointed at her. "You can snipe from twenty meters away and stop a threat without putting people in danger. That's the difference between a mission success and a tragedy."
Haya stared at him. Her mouth opened slightly, but no retort came out.
"A Quirk isn't defined by how big or flashy it is," Izuku finished, his voice softening, returning to his usual shy cadence now that the rant was over. "It's defined by how it saves people. And from where I'm standing... yours is amazing."
For a long moment, the only sound was the ventilation system humming overhead.
Haya looked at Izuku, searching for pity or condescension in his expression, the kind she often got from others who used her friends to measure her worth as a hero. She found none. She only saw the terrifying sincerity of a boy who breathed hero analysis like air.
She felt a strange warmth rise in her chest—not the embarrassment from earlier, but something steadier. Validation. She looked away sharply, brushing a stray lock of red hair behind her ear, hiding her face.
"You really act like a fanboy, you know that?" She grumbled, though the bite was gone from her voice.
" I-I was just stating the facts!" Izuku waved his hands defensively.
"Yeah, well..." Haya cleared her throat, her eyes sliding toward Nejire, who was beaming at her with a 'told-you-so' expression. Haya looked back at Izuku, her gaze guarded but no longer icy. "I guess... I guess the facts aren't wrong. Technically."
She uncrossed her arms and let out a short, resigned sigh.
"I can see why Nejire likes having you around," Haya muttered, turning back to the target so he wouldn't see the small, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You're weird. But... you're not bad."
"I'll take that as a compliment!" Izuku said brightly.
"Don't push it."
Izuku looked over at Nejire, Mirio, and Tamaki. "So, does anyone else want to test the limits of their Quirks?"
"You may have to put a pin in that for today," Fat Gum spoke, approaching the teens. "Time to head out, Suneater. We have a patrol to go on. Ryukyu and Gang Orca are waiting outside."
"Right, looks like I'm back on the clock." Tamaki stood up in response to his hero name. "I'll see you guys later… I guess."
Izuku, Nejire, Mirio, and Haya took the elevator up with Fat Gum and Tamaki, wanting to see them off. They exited the agency to find Ryukyu and Gang Orca waiting patiently.
"I'm ready to go when you are," Fat Gum said.
"It'll be faster if I fly us there." Ryukyu took a deep breath to calm herself and stepped forward. Her golden eyes seemed to glow as scales moved over her skin like liquid metal. As her body grew, her limbs grew longer, and the wind swirled around her. Her tail curled like a river current with grace. Her wings opened up, vast and majestic, casting a broad shadow over everyone.
Izuku's breath caught, realizing this was the first time he'd seen her transformation since starting at the agency. Granted, he's seen Ryukyu transform on the news, but nothing prepared him for seeing a dragon that could blot out a city block standing right in front of him.
"Wow…" Izuku was at a loss for words. He couldn't move. His knees nearly gave out. "She's… Beautiful."
Ryukyu's great head lowered to look at him and huffed softly, a puff of warm air swirling his curls. Even transformed, she was able to make a smile. "Thank you, Midoriya," her resonant voice rumbled.
Izuku's face flushed, and he covered his mouth when he realized Ryukyu—his boss—was able to hear him. This got a chuckle out of Nejire.
I suspected that her dragon form had enhanced senses, but this confirms it.
When he called her "beautiful," he meant it admirably, on top of being as majestic and elegant as she was terrifying. To say her transformation was just powerful was an understatement; she looked like a mythical guardian, standing at the intersection of legend and heroism.
Ryukyu picked up Fat Gum in her claw; he looked like a glob of yellow putty in her hands, while Tamaki used his tentacles to swing himself and Gang Orca onto her back, holding tightly onto her greatly expanded qipao. She spread her wings and took flight with her passengers, disappearing into the distance.
"That was something," Mirio said, breaking the silence. "Well, I'd better get back to my agency before Sir Nighteye forces Bubble Girl to take my shift."
Bubble Girl? Oh, right, Aquawoman's daughter. Reminds me, I never did ask Aquawoman why she didn't like her daughter working for Sir Nighteye, or why she called him a pervert.
"And I should get going, too," Haya said, turning her gaze to Izuku. "And thanks for the analysis, Izuku."
"It was no problem, Haya," Izuku said, nodding.
"Yuyu. You can call me Yuyu." She managed a smile before taking her leave.
"I'll see you guys around," Mirio said warmly to everyone. "Keep working hard, and Izuku, good job making it through whatever's been weighing on you."
Izuku blinked at him, startled. "H-How did you—"
"You had that look when we first met," Mirio said gently. "You tried to hide it, but I used to see it on classmates all the time when they've hit a rough patch in life. You're doing great just by being here."
As Mirio left, Izuku felt the heat sting behind his eyes and tried desperately not to show it.
I thought I was done with the crying.
He wished more people like Mirio, Tamaki, Yuyu, and Nejire existed in the world. Kind, earnest, yet strange in their own charming way, but ultimately loving.
Tick... Tick... Tick...
For Izuku, the classroom at Aldera Middle School had transformed from a place of anxiety into a cage of sheer boredom, as the second hand of the wall clock moved as if in molasses. Izuku let the boring beat of Aldera Middle School wash over him. His pen moved on its own as he copied formulas and kanji into his school notebook, filling it up neatly. Mentally, Izuku wasn't really there—he was already miles away, envisioning his workspace of the Ryukyu Agency. The end of his school day would mark the beginning of his third week there.
Just a few more hours.
Izuku would change out of his uniform, catch the train, and step into a world where Pro Heroes worked to help save people. He was already thinking about reviewing patrol route footage, reporting protocols, assessing damage control, and the warm, bubbly energy of Nejire.
He glanced at Kacchan, who sat slumped in his chair, staring off into space with a look of thunderous brooding. Ever since Izuku and Nejire had stepped in where the Pros hesitated with the sludge villain incident, the dynamic had… shifted.
Kacchan usually loomed like a storm cloud ready to explode. Though Izuku would catch glimpses of him sometimes—scowling at his desk, jaw clenched, eyes sharp and unfocused—Kacchan never so much as glanced in Izuku's general direction, said a word to him, nor did he launch a single explosion the boy's way.
Izuku had three theories as to why. Perhaps not attacking Izuku was Kacchan's way of thanking him for saving his life—unlikely, but the one he hoped for to reconnect with his childhood friend. Maybe it was wounded pride; being saved by "Quirkless Deku" had shattered his worldview—most likely. Or maybe, just perhaps, Kacchan was thinking that bullying an official intern of a Top Ten agency was a one-way ticket to tanking his spotless record and jeopardizing his shot at U.A.—the most probable.
Whatever the reason, the peace of mind and body isn't something I'll take for granted.
Even Tsubasa was gone. No desk slam. No muttered threats. No sharp wings blocking the hallway. The winged bully hadn't been to school for almost a week. Rumors whispered through the classrooms—something about family issues—but Izuku didn't dwell on it. One less tormentor was a blessing in this Quirk-obsessed hellhole. Without the heavy hitters, Izuku's bullying ecosystem at Aldera was collapsing. Well, mostly.
"Well, if it isn't the waste of space."
Izuku sighed, closed his notebook calmly, and slid it into his bag as the final bell rang. He didn't even look up, knowing it was Sutoretchi—whose Quirk allowed him to extend his fingers about a foot longer than usual. He had a reputation for being an oily pervert who abused his Quirk to be gross with the school's girls, but no one stood up to him since he hung out with Kacchan. Well, until he and Tsubasa left him for dead, that is. Now, Kacchan threatens to blow him up whenever he gets too close.
"I'm talking to you, charity case!" Sutoretchi stepped in to block Izuku's path, crossed his arms, and wore a smug grin, trying to look intimidating but just looking like a desperate henchman without a boss. "Still pretending you matter, Midoriya?" Without Kacchan or Tsubasa to act as muscle, Sutoretchi was just mildly inconvenient and utterly unthreatening to someone who had stood up to a villain. In short, he was pathetic. "Just because you got lucky the other day doesn't change anything. You're still a Quirkless loser."
Izuku finally looked up, slinging his yellow backpack over one shoulder, unimpressed. "Move, Sutoretchi. I have somewhere to be," Izuku said, shouldering past him without a word and heading for the door. That alone was enough to throw Sutoretchi off.
"Don't ignore me! You think you're better than me now? Just 'cause you hang around heroes? Playing secretary for Ryukyu? Or are you just the janitor?"
Izuku didn't pause as he would've before; the words no longer hurt because they were boring. The insults were old, worn-out tracks he'd heard a thousand times. They bounced off him like rain on a window—annoying, but harmless. He had a purpose now, even if it was just being an intern.
Students passed them, whispering, glancing. One of whom was a quiet girl with black, shoulder-length, bob-shaped hair that Izuku sees from time to time.
Sutoretchi puffed up, clearly realizing he no longer had Bakugo or Tsubasa looming at his back. The lack showed as his insults came faster, sloppier, desperation creeping into his voice. "Quirkless loser! Deku! You'll always be nothing! Heroes pity you!"
Izuku felt nothing except pity for the bully so desperate to appear superior. He was free. He just had to walk away.
"I bet the only reason they keep you is because of that airheaded sidekick. You know the one with blue hair? Won't shut up? Yeah, her."
Izuku stopped. His hand froze on the door handle. "Don't talk about her," he warned, his voice dropping an octave as he turned around slowly with a look that would be enough to scare a semblance of reason into any fool.
"Why? She's the only reason anyone looks at you, getting carried away by her and all that on the news. She's cute, I'll give her that, and has a nice rack, too. But let's be real, Midoriya, girls like her don't slum it with Quirkless nobodies unless they want something. My money's on that she's one of those attention-seeking girls. You know? The ones eager to put out for anyone who gives her the time of day."
The world stopped. For a single, frozen heartbeat, Izuku's vision tunneled, a red haze flooding his senses—hot and sharp, tearing through his chest.
"I bet if I asked her nicely, she'd—"
POW!
The sound was sickeningly wet, a crunchy impact that echoed off the walls. There was no thought process. No weighing on the consequences. There was just the roar of blood in Izuku's ears and the sudden, violent motion of his body.
One moment, Sutoretchi was smirking, thinking he had reclaimed power over Izuku. Next thing he knew, he was hitting the floor hard, clutching his face and screaming, high and shrill, as blood poured through his fingers. His nose was clearly shattered, bent at a horrifying angle as he collapsed into a sobbing mess. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Someone shouted for a teacher.
Izuku stood over him, fist clenched, knuckles throbbing, but he didn't feel pain—only cold rage radiating off him. Then he realized what he'd done, chest heaving, eyes wide—not with regret, but with shock at himself.
I… I punched...
Footsteps thundered closer.
"Midoriya! What did you do?" The shriek came from the doorway as a teacher, eyes wide at the sight of blood, stood there, dropping his stack of papers.
"I—he said—" Izuku tried to defend himself, words caught in his throat.
"Office. Now!" The teacher's words slammed down like a verdict.
The black-haired girl tried to speak up, but didn't get the chance as Izuku was roughly marched through the halls by the adult in a walk of shame, head buzzing, heart sinking with every step as he passed by blurs of stern faces and accusations. Sutoretchi was being taken to the nurse's office by a different pair of teachers, still wailing. No one asked him what happened. No one cared why.
Twenty minutes later, Izuku sat in a hard wooden chair in Principal Henken's office. Principal Henken, an overweight, egg-shaped man, didn't look up from his desk when Izuku was shoved into the chair across from him, tapping his pen against the boy's file as if it were a stain he wanted to wipe away.
"Unprovoked assault against a fellow student," Principal Henken began, looking at Izuku with disdain for his existence. "Young Sutoretchi has a broken nose. His parents are furious. He claims you attacked him out of jealousy over his Quirk. We know how you feel about your affliction, Midoriya. We know you're frustrated. But lashing out at students with the potential to attend U.A.? It's barbaric."
The bias was so thick it was suffocating him. It didn't matter that Sutoretchi had said disgusting things about Izuku's friend. It didn't matter that Sutoretchi had been tormenting him, and others like him—students with Quirks so weak they may as well be considered Quirkless—for years. It didn't matter that Sutoretchi was a repeat offender with the female student body. In their eyes, the Quirkless kid with no future had finally snapped and hurt a "normal" student who had one.
"This school has a zero-tolerance policy. We cannot have a violent delinquent at Aldera. Effective immediately, you are suspended."
"Suspended!" Izuku exclaimed as he stood up, feeling his stomach drop. "For how long?"
"Sit down!" The principal slammed his hands on the desk, intimidating the boy back into his seat. "It will be for as long as we deem fit. We will review your enrollment status. On the off chance you are let back into this building, if there is even one more incident—if you so much as sneeze the wrong way—you will be expelled. And let me be clear, Midoriya, an expulsion for violent conduct on your permanent record? No high school will take you. Not U.A., not Shiketsu, not even a general high school."
Izuku stared at the floor as the word rang in Izuku's ears.
Expulsion.
The unfairness of it burned behind his eyes, but he refused to cry. Not in front of them. He knew they would want him to beg for mercy, to act as pathetic as they viewed him to be.
"Pack your things and get out of my school."
Izuku had balled his hands into fists at his sides as he walked out of the office, suspension notice crumpled in his hand. The threat of expulsion hung over his head like a guillotine. No chance to defend himself properly, no witnesses called.
The hallways blurred as he walked, a knot twisted in his gut. Ryukyu was waiting for him today. Nejire would be there, too. Izuku had no idea how he was supposed to face them now—to tell them that the ninth-ranked Pro Hero's brand-new intern was a violent delinquent in the eyes of the education system.
How am I supposed to explain this? To Ryukyu, who had given me a chance despite my Quirklessness? To Nejire, who built me back up when I fell apart?
But he did not regret defending Nejire's honor, even with blood still metaphorically on his hands, even if the cost might have been his entire future.
When Izuku got to the agency, he was so anxious that he had to stay outside longer than usual, breathe, and close his eyes. His heart was racing faster than it had been during the sludge villain fight. The rush of adrenaline had worn off long ago, and now there was a dull, throbbing ache in his knuckles that the school didn't even bother to bandage. They were turning a mottled shade of purple and red. The physical pain was nothing compared to the churning dread in his gut, a reminder of the moment everything had gone wrong.
Get it together.
He took a deep breath, pushed the door open, stuffed his right hand into his pocket, and finally stepped inside, trying to pretend nothing had changed. He clocked in and took the elevator up to Ryukyu's office. Aquawoman gave him a concerned look from the reception desk. She knew something was off with him today. The elevator ride up felt longer than usual. Izuku stood in the corner of the car, holding his right hand in his left as it started acting up.
"Hey, hey, Izuku!" Nejire sang when she saw him, and her blue hair bounced as she waved excitedly from across the room. She floated over, smiling, and landed softly in front of him. "Guess what? Ryukyu told us we could have the rest of the day off if we finished early, and there's this ice cream place—" Nejire stopped in the middle of a sentence. She tilted her head. "You're doing the thing where you try to make yourself smaller. And you're holding your hand weird. What's with the face? Did something bad happen?"
"I—" Izuku was at a loss for words—he wanted to tell her that nothing happened and that he was fine, but he couldn't bear even the thought of lying to Nejire. He just couldn't
"Izuku! What happened?" Nejire gasped when her eyes zeroed in on his hand, her own hovering over without touching. "It's all puffy! Did you trip? Did a villain attack you on the way here? Who did this to you?"
Before Izuku could answer and reassure her, Ryukyu, standing nearby reviewing a patrol schedule, glanced up at them. Her golden eyes took in the scene of Nejire's concerned hovering and Izuku's hunched posture.
"Midoriya, what happened?" The Dragoon Hero asked.
There was no point in hiding it—Izuku reluctantly showed his boss his right hand, and Ryukyu's eyes widened.
"My office. Both of you." Despite her calm voice, it was an unmistakable command.
Izuku felt like he was walking to the gallows all over again, his feet dragging like lead. They entered her office away from the prying eyes of the other sidekicks. The door softly clicked shut behind them, and he stood there, fidgeting with his hand. He felt like he was back in the principal's office again, fingers twisting together. Nejire hovered beside him, concern written plainly across her face.
"Midoriya, who did this to you?" Ryukyu asked as she took his hand and examined it.
Izuku swallowed then told her—and by extension, Nejire—what had happened. "I did it to myself. I... I punched a classmate at school today."
Nejire's eyes widened. Ryukyu's expression didn't change—but something sharpened behind her gaze. Izuku pulled the crumpled notice from his pocket and held it out like evidence in a trial. The silence in the room was heavy as the Dragoon Hero took the paper and scanned it over.
"Explain from the beginning," she told him.
Izuku took a shaky breath and recounted the events—the boredom, Sutoretchi's usual taunts, and how he had ignored the bully. "But then… then he started talking about you, Nejire." His eyes flicked up to meet Nejire's, then darted away. "He knew I was interning here. He said... he said disgusting things." Izuku didn't want to repeat the words, but he had to tell Ryukyu and Nejire the whole story.
When he repeated the exact words Sutoretchi had said, the air pressure in the room seemed to drop, and Nejire's face went utterly still. She stared at Izuku, processing the crude words, her usual bubbly energy twisting into something darker.
Shame burned Izuku's cheeks as he continued. "I just... snapped. I didn't mean to hit him that hard. Well… I did, but I shouldn't have. I broke his nose. The teachers came, and the principal..."
He explained the meeting—the immediate blame. The assumption was that the "violent Quirkless boy" had attacked a "normal" student out of jealousy and threatened him with expulsion on his permanent record.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Nejire slammed her hands onto Ryukyu's desk, making a stapler jump and causing Izuku to flinch, her face flushed with righteous anger. "They suspended you? After what that creep said? They've been bullying you for years, you finally snap once, and you're the one who gets suspended? And he says something like that about me, and they ignore it?"
She whipped her head toward Ryukyu, fists clenched.
"That's not fair, Ryukyu! They didn't even listen to him! They just assumed he was bad because he doesn't have a Quirk! That's... that's stupid! It's mean and stupid! That school is—ugh! I oughta fly over there and give them a piece of my mind—zap the principal's desk or something! How dare they! Izuku's not some delinquent!"
"That's enough, Nejire," Ryukyu told her sidekick, remaining perfectly still and raising a hand to settle Nejire from her rant. "I know you're angry, and you have every right to be, but it's not helping."
To a casual observer, she looked emotionless. Izuku—ever observant—saw the flaring of her nostrils, the tightening of the muscles in her jaw, the way her eyes had narrowed into slits with a steely undercurrent. The Dragoon Hero was furious, but masked it with professional poise.
"Midoriya," Ryukyu began, returning her attention to the boy. "Do you regret defending Nejire?"
Izuku looked at his bruised hand, then at Nejire, who was still fuming on his behalf.
"No. I regret that I lost control. I regret that I may have caused trouble for you and the agency. But I don't regret defending Nejire." Izuku wilted further. "And I understand if... I understand if you need to fire me. I don't want my record to reflect poorly on—"
Ryukyu placed both hands on his shoulders and knelt until she was eye level. "Izuku Midoriya, look at me."
Izuku's head snapped up.
"You defended a teammate from vile slander. You reacted with excessive force, yes, but the provocation was severe, and the subsequent handling by your school was… appalling. Biased. And unacceptable. You should not have been denied the chance to defend yourself."
Izuku's chest tightened.
"Let me be crystal clear. This incident does not change your standing in this agency. You are still a member of this team, and that will not change unless you choose otherwise. We see your potential, Quirk or no Quirk. A suspension from a middle school that clearly does not value you has no bearing on your work here. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Ryukyu." The weight on Izuku's chest didn't just lift; it vanished. His eyes welled up, and he quickly wiped them with his good hand. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
"Don't thank me for doing the bare minimum of what an adult should do." Ryukyu stood up, shaking her head firmly. "As for the expulsion threats? I'll handle that if it comes. For now, focus on the work ahead."
Nejire immediately stepped closer. "If that crummy middle school can't see how amazing you are, that's their loss." She had a fierce, protective grin on her face. "Also, if that punk ever says something like that again, I'll…"
Ryukyu gave her sidekick a warning glare as she sat behind her desk.
Nejire sighed. "…Politely educate him."
Izuku let out a shaky laugh at Nejire's final words, which had absolutely no sincerity.
"These are your assignments," Ryukyu said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out two folders, handing one to each of them. "Nejire, your patrol route today is in the downtown district—scout for any villain activity. Midoriya, review these villain profiles, analyze their Quirks, and help develop counterstrategies. I expect both of you to complete them as usual and report back by the end of the day."
Nejire snatched her folder with a determined nod, her anger simmering but not gone. "Got it."
"Th-thank you." Izuku managed a weak smile, clutching his folder, and bowed deeply. "We won't let you down."
"Come on, Izuku!" Nejire grabbed Izuku's good hand, beaming at him. "Let's get your hand bandaged, then go be heroes. And you can tell me everything about how that punch felt."
Izuku panicked slightly as she dragged him toward the door. "I—Nejire—"
As they filed out, Nejire chattering about potential strategies to lighten the mood and muttering angrily under her breath about "stupid schools" and "seriously outdated policies," Ryuko watched them go. Once the door clicked shut behind the two teenagers, the calm facade dropped from the Dragoon Hero's face.
She let out a low growl that vibrated in her chest as her fingernails dug into the polished wood of her desk. The sheer incompetence. The blatant discrimination. Hearing Midoriya describe how small they made him feel, how quickly they were ready to discard his future... it made her blood boil.
She took three deep, calming breaths, forcing the dragon back down. Then she reached for her phone and dialed a number. It rang twice before the line connected, and a voice answered.
"Tsukauchi speaking, how may I help you, Ryukyu?"
"Naomasa, I need a favor. A professional one."
"First name basis? Must be important, Ryuko. What do you need? Villain intel?"
Ryuko looked out her window toward the distant cityscape.
"No. I was hoping you could open an investigation into Aldera Middle School in Musutafu. I have reason to believe they are engaging in systemic discrimination against Quirkless students and possibly students with weak Quirks, negligence of duty of care, and falsifying student records to cover up bullying… and I believe this is not an isolated case."
There was a pause on the other end, followed by the rustle of paper and the click of a pen.
"That's quite the accusation. I've heard whispers about that place, but… do you have a trustworthy source?"
Ryuko's eyes hardened as she thought of the bruised knuckles on her promising, terrified intern's hand.
"My source is undisclosed, but I'm willing to stake my reputation that their testimony is unimpeachable. Burn that school to the ground, Naomasa. Metaphorically speaking, of course."
There was a pause, then a sigh.
"Email me the details, and I'll make some calls."
"Thank you, Naomasa. I mean it."
She hung up and prayed that her friend would be able to help—that justice would be served.
The abuse ends here.