Chapter 46

Inko wonders if this is going to be a regular event: having the retired Symbol of Peace in her kitchen for tea.

She ought to have expected it sooner, given his arrangement with her son, but she's gone from months without so much as a whisper from him, to a few scattered but important conversations. Now here he is again, standing awkwardly in her home in clothes that, for once, aren't too big for his new form—or his true form, rather. Inko wonders how open he's going to be about the fact that he's apparently been looking like this for the past six years.

They sit down, and Inko pushes a cup of tea toward him. "Is Izuku doing all right?" she asks. Izuku calls regularly and insists that he is, but it never hurts to get a second opinion.

"Very well," All-Might assures her. "He's, ah—the class is away today. They'll be taking the provisional license exams. It's why I had the time to arrange this meeting with you."

"I see." Inko can't help the little stutter in her heartbeat, secondhand nervousness at this news of her son's big day.

"He—er. We've…" All-Might stumbles through a few false starts. "We… had a conversation, the two of us. A very enlightening conversation. I believe that, for once, we both have all our cards on the table."

Inko nods. Izuku called her the night before, tearfully breathless in his relief, just to tell her the news. "He told you," she says in a hushed voice. "About his quirk."

All-Might nods.

"And?"

"I…" His eyes slide downward, as if ashamed of himself. "It was a lot. I'm afraid that I didn't handle it very well, at first. But luckily for both of us, young Izuku is persistent. I nearly—I was in denial at first. When he told me of his original quirk, he also told me about—about someone that I lost." He stops again and seems to correct himself. "Someone that I thought I lost."

"He mentioned that you had a ghost of your own," she says softly, hoping that she isn't overstepping.

"My old mentor. My predecessor, in fact. I thought that I had come to terms with her death years ago. It's strange to think that she is still here. That she has always been here."

"It's a strange quirk," Inko says sympathetically. "You learn to live with things like that after a while, but it'll always be just a little strange." She turns her head to eye the electric air freshener filling the room with the scent of spring orchids, and the next room where there's soft music playing even though she isn't in there listening. Morino likes the smell and Kurosawa likes the music. The mirror leans against the wall with the container of baby powder, just in case anyone feels like having a conversation.

"And on that note, I have a question," All-Might says hesitantly. "About something you told me earlier." Nervously he taps his index finger against the cup. "When I met with you, you told me that dying would be the cruelest way to hurt him. And now that I know about his ability, I'm… confused. His power being what it is… wouldn't he be able to see me, in that case?"

Inko shuts her eyes, sighs, and wishes for patience with short-sighted, self-sacrificial fools. "Yes. He would. He would see you, and be reminded each time of what he's lost—because he will have lost you, in a way. Just because he sees the dead doesn't mean he can't feel loss, All-Might. It doesn't mean death doesn't cause him pain." She puts her cup down. "When he first told me about you, the day you offered your power to him, I was… hesitant. I could see so many ways that it could all go wrong, and I wanted him to be sure that he was making the right choice for himself. Do you want to know what he told me?"

The former hero nods wordlessly.

"He told me that he wanted, more than anything, the chance to save lives, and that your offer was the only chance he was ever going to get. He told me that he couldn't save lives with the quirk he already had—all he could do was talk to them when they were already dead."

She hears All-Might's breath hitch at that and thinks, good. It means her words are reaching him.

"My son has a strange relationship with death, All-Might," she continues. "I will never share that. Maybe no one will. But don't ever, ever think that it means nothing to him at all. Don't make that mistake—for his sake and for yours."

All-Might nods, but she can see the familiar helplessness on his face, of a man faced with something he cannot understand but desperately wants to.

"It's going to be all right," she tells him. "It's strange now, but you'll learn. Izuku will explain things if you ask. It's not often that he gets to speak freely about it with someone who isn't me."

"I don't even know where to start," All-Might admits.

Her eyes soften as she looks at him. "Start with Rei," she advises. "Always start with her. He'll start talking and never want to stop."

Izuku doesn't fall asleep on the way to the testing location. It's a close thing, but it helps that late summer days are hot enough to warrant air conditioning in the buses, turned up so high that his teeth chatter when he sits beneath the vent. When the bus finally comes to a halt outside their destination, it's a relief to step back out into the warm sun, for all of five seconds before he starts sweating again.

"You look like someone just insulted your mother," Todoroki says dryly.

Without answering, Izuku steps around to his right side and sighs with relief. Todoroki's quirk is like its own air conditioner even when it's not activated, and the oppressive heat keeps it from being excessively chilly like the air inside the bus.

"That bad?" Todoroki sounds mildly amused.

"It's like an oven out here," Izuku mutters, letting his head fall to Todoroki's shoulder. The fabric of his school uniform is pleasantly cool.

"Don't fall asleep," Todoroki advises. Aizawa-sensei is saying something, addressing the class, and Izuku tunes in just enough to register that it's the normal gruff pep talk and general advice. "There are students from other schools here, too. If you want to make an impression and yell 'Plus Ultra' with everyone, you might want to stand up straight."

Reluctantly, Izuku raises head, but he stays close enough to Todoroki to take advantage of his right side. He cocks an eyebrow at his friend, trying not to smirk too hard. "Since when do you care about making a good first impression?"

Todoroki blinks, and for a split second he looks almost defensive. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, the first time you talked to me was when you walked up to me and offered me an ass-kicking, but—"

Todoroki makes a show of trying to shove him, but he doesn't try very hard. "Enough." A smile is trying to take over, judging by the way his mouth twitches. "Besides—I just said an impression. I never said anything about making it a good one."

To be fair, they have drawn a lot of attention from the other examinees. Izuku's too distracted to notice them at first, but that quickly changes because the Shiketsu crowd is loud.

Well—one of them is, at least. The rest of the class is pumping themselves up with a "Plus Ultra" call, and one of the Shiketsu boys joins in loud enough to drown them out by himself.

"Sorry!" he yells, without lowering his volume at all. "I heard what you guys were doing, and I got excited! I always kinda wanted to do that! It's a cool chant, you know? Really gets you pumped up!" For a moment he glances in Izuku's general direction, and his eyes narrow, but it's over in a split second. Confused, Izuku glances around to see if someone else caught the boy's eye, but the only other person close by is Todoroki—and Hino, but of course he wouldn't have been looking at him.

It's only in looking around that Izuku notes the size of the crowd they've drawn. It's not just Shiketsu, but several schools. Some of them move in close to gawk, and Izuku finds himself shifting closer to Todoroki with vague discomfort at the unwelcome proximity. Others are standing back to watch from a distance, and the crowd is just thick enough to make it hard to see them all. Bakugou almost gets in a scuffle with someone from Ketsubutsu Academy before Kirishima calms him down.

Eventually, a rattling hiss tells him that Rei's had quite enough of this. He's close enough to feel Todoroki shifting uncomfortably when she makes her displeasure known to everyone within range of the change in atmosphere. It takes a few moments, but people start to disperse.

"It's like the Sports Festival, but worse," Izuku mutters.

"Makes sense," Todoroki says calmly. "There's a limit to how many can pass. Not everyone can make it, and not everyone at this location is a first year." He pauses. "What's more, thanks to the Sports Festival, everyone here will know what our quirks are. We can't say the same for any of them."

"Okay, cool," Izuku says. "I'm gonna go vomit."

One of the lingering Shiketsu kids hears him—a pretty second-year girl with a school uniform cap perched on her head at a jaunty angle. She catches his eye and grins in a not-unfriendly way. "Bruh," she says. "That's like, the eternal mood."

Izuku waits until the Shiketsu students have returned to their own classmates before he speaks up. They various classes are moving into the testing facility now, and Class 1-A moves with them. "Hey, did you know that guy?"

"Which one?" Todoroki asks.

"The one from Shiketsu. Tall, buzzed haircut, kinda loud? I could've sworn he was looking at you funny."

"I… wasn't paying attention," Todoroki admits.

"You would have met him before." Aizawa-sensei says, falling in step beside them. "I'm surprised you'd forget him. That was Yoarashi Inasa—he was a recommended student at U.A."

Todoroki pauses mid-step, then keeps walking. "I thought he seemed familiar."

"He ought to have been. He had the highest score in the demonstrations—it was a bit of a surprise when he ended up enrolling at a different school."

"The highest score?" Izuku echoes, glancing toward Todoroki again. "As in, higher than yours?"

"Higher than mine at half my power," Todoroki says.

Izuku nods. "Good point." It's kind of comforting to hear that, actually. Todoroki's far and away above where he was back then, and even during the Sports Festival. So is Izuku. So is everyone in their class. The other schools might have seen their quirks on display back then, but even now the Sports Festival feels like it happened a lifetime ago.

Izuku glances around, eyeing the ghosts in his line of vision. Rei's here, Hino's following Todoroki, Tensei wouldn't miss this for the world, and even Narita is flanking Aizawa-sensei. He didn't have them, back at the Sports Festival. The ones he did, he didn't use.

Things are different now. He's learned a few tricks since then.

"Hoo boy," Kirishima remarks later, as they get changed into their gear. "Haven't seen that smile in way too long, Midoriya."

The first test is instant pandemonium. In spite of Izuku's best efforts to keep the class together, Bakugou and Todoroki are off and running on their own before it even starts, and Izuku has no time to try to convince at least Todoroki to come back before every single other school is charging them en masse.

For a little while it works. It's not the first time they've fought together, and they can hold together as a unit even against the onslaught. But then the very ground beneath their feet heaves and shakes, scattering them from their hasty formation.

When the shaking finally stops, the ground is ripped to shreds and Izuku finds himself alone—relatively. There are other students around, but everyone is scattered. The closest person he found before this point was Uraraka, and he can't see her anywhere now. He can't see any of his classmates within reach; only Rei hasn't lost track of him.

And that's a problem, because they're surrounded by Ketsubutsu students, and it's obvious that their teamwork is solid.

"Think this would've happened if UA didn't pit us against each other all the goddamn time?" Izuku mutters to Rei. She blows a raspberry. "Yeah, I think so too. Stay close, but keep an eye out for the others, all right?"

Rei nods, and her form flickers in and out of view as she flits about, but she stays close. Almost immediately she calls to him and points: there's Iida and Aoyama, dodging balls from a group of Ketsubutsu kids. Izuku is about to go help when a familiar figure appears in his peripherals.

There's Uraraka; she must have been thrown clear of the mob, but she's alone now, and if she's alone then she's vulnerable. Iida and Aoyama have each other watching their backs for now, so Izuku hurries to join her.

"Uraraka!" he calls as loudly as he dares, not wanting to draw too much attention to her. This is good; he's worked with Uraraka loads of times, and their quirks mesh together well. If they team up, they can take out two people each, easy.

She turns to him and waves him over. Izuku picks up his pace, only to slam to a halt when Rei shoves him back with a warning shriek. He blinks, and there's a ball sailing at him, skimming past him from Uraraka's direction. If Rei hadn't stopped him, it would have hit him for sure.

"Uraraka, what—" Izuku splutters, shocked. She wants to be a hero same as the rest of them, but he didn't think she'd pick a fight with him when they have other schools to worry about.

Rei scoops up a piece of rubble and tosses it at her. The concrete chunk phases through Uraraka as if she's a mirage.

An illusion. "Find them, Rei," he murmurs. He has a ball in hand, ready to throw. "Yell. Make sure I don't lose them."

Rei vanishes, and reappears somewhere behind the illusory Uraraka, screaming loudly enough for him to hear. Another ball comes at him; this one he catches and throws back. He's rewarded by a soft thud and a high-pitched grunt, and the vision of Uraraka blurs and dissipates.

It's the girl from before, the pretty Shiketsu student who grinned at him in the parking lot. She's in her hero costume now, looking sheepishly at the ball stuck to her torso. That's one—two more and she'll out, and Izuku will have one target left.

"Okay," she says. "Gotta admit—that was pretty lit."

And then she's gone again, out of his line of vision, using the rubble for cover. Izuku sees her form pop into view a few times, darting between hiding places, but he ignores them—Rei's not with them, so they're not the real thing.

She gets smart after a while, as they pursue each other. Even with Rei giving her away, she's fast and clever enough to keep him guessing. He has a ball in his hand, ready to launch it, when he sees her zip out of hiding. He sees Rei on her, in his head he knows that's real, but his muscles second-guess him and hesitate all the same. He's on edge the next time she appears, and it makes him careless. He forgets to look for Rei, overcompensates to try and hit her. The ball sails toward her, and through her—another illusion.

Rei's rattly voice rings out in warning, followed by a triumphant cry from the Shiketsu student.

"Yeet!"

A ball strikes him in the chest, locking in place on contact. The impact stings, but not as much as the frustration. Two more hits and his chance is gone.

Rei saves him from another; she shrieks a warning when the girl gets behind him, and he spins and raises an arm instinctively. The ball is a split second away from hitting him when he catches it and launches it back. It catches her in a spot on her stomach, and the shocked retching noise she makes is almost comical.

"Dude! What the f—"

His chance is there, and Izuku throws caution to the wind and takes it. He hurls the ball, but in his haste his balance is off, the move is obvious, and the girl has plenty of time to dodge. She almost spins out of the way with a warbly cry of alarm—

Rei snatches the ball out of the air and thrusts it into one of the target areas herself.

For a moment, the girl stands in the rubble, gaping down at the three balls attached to her torso. A tinny voice rings out, announcing her loss and instructing her to make her way off the field.

She looks up at him, lips pursed. Shock, disbelief, and disappointment flash across her face in an instant.

"Well fuck me, I guess," she says. "That was some next level shit, though. Seriously wild."

"Sorry," Izuku says. If there were a way he could reach his goals without stepping on those of others, he would take it, but this is all that they have. It feels like making selfish decisions shouldn't be required on the path to becoming a hero.

The other student seems to take it in stride, thankfully. "Nah, it's cool. Good luck, my man."

He turns away from her as she hurries to leave the chaos-ridden field. With a little luck, maybe he'll find the real Uraraka nearby.

Shouto is the first in his class to leave the field with his place in the main exam secured. Months ago, back when his own advancement was his sole concern, this outcome would have left him either relieved or indifferent, but now he just feels restless. It's not that he thinks his classmates aren't capable. But the fact that his decision to strike out on his own worked out for him doesn't mean it worked out for everyone. And Midoriya's strategy had been a good one…

There's no use pouting about it now. To compromise with himself, Shouto leaves the waiting area to wait by the entrance where passing students come in. He'll feel better once he sees his classmates come in successful.

(He feels eyes on the back of his head as he leaves, and turns his head just in time to see Yoarashi Inasa glaring at him for a split second before turning away.)

Eventually, his classmates do trickle in. They arrive not all at once, but in groups. None of the people he knows come in alone, and that bothers him a bit. When even Bakugou comes in scowling with Kaminari and Kirishima flanking him, Shouto starts to wonder if he didn't miscalculate on this after all.

To his relief, Midoriya arrives not long after, though the darkening bruise on his cheekbone is a little alarming. He's chatting with Uraraka and Sero, and looks up to wave at Shouto as they come in.

"Oh hey, you made it!" Midoriya says brightly. "I was a little worried about you, all by yourself."

Shouto shrugs as he falls in step with him. He hasn't seen everyone from Class 1-A yet, but enough of them to ease his own worries. "It wasn't too bad. Why am I not surprised that you managed to get injured?"

Uraraka snorts and elbows him lightly. "Would it surprise you that he managed to get injured after we were done?"

"Of course you did," Shouto says in a long-suffering voice. A cluster of other passing students pass them on the left, and he hooks his arm around Midoriya's to draw him out of their way.

"To be fair, I'm about seventy percent sure it was an accident," Midoriya says. "And they apologized."

"I wouldn't be that sure," Sero says. To Todoroki he explains, "The guy he tagged out decked him on the way down."

"On the way down?"

"The three of us teamed up to take the last four we needed to pass," Uraraka explains. "Deku got them into our trap, and me and Sero sprung it."

"The suspense is killing me," Shouto says.

Midoriya nudges closer like he's sharing a joke. "Two words," he says, with a touch of sheepish satisfaction. "People balloons."

Shouto stifles a laugh, and it comes out as a snort instead. Not the most dignified noise, but it's quiet enough not to draw too much attention. Midoriya looks a little too pleased with himself.

Once they reach the waiting room, Midoriya spots Kirishima and breaks off to go and congratulate him. Todoroki almost goes to join him, but he feels the hulking Shiketsu student eyeing him sullenly from another part of the room.

"I'm gonna go see who else is coming in," he says to Uraraka.

"Actually, that's a good idea," she says. "Mind if I come with you? It looks like Tsuyu-chan isn't here yet."

He nods, and they make their way back down the hall.

"Wonder what that one guy's problem is with you," she remarks.

"Hm?"

"That kid from Shiketsu. Yoarashi, I think? Did you go up against him in the first test?"

"I never saw him," Shouto answers. Something tugs at the back of his mind, something important but uncomfortable, and he tries to turn the thought away. He's only just gotten himself to stop feeling dissatisfied.

Uraraka shrugs and changes the subject, which he's grateful for. "So… not to get ahead of ourselves or anything, but… what do you think comes after this?"

"Hm?"

"When—if we—I mean, for people with provisional licenses?" Uraraka threads her fingers together. "What happens after you get it? I mean, it's not a real license, more like a learner's permit, so… will it change how we train, or what?"

"Oh, we'll be able to take on internships," Shouto answers.

"Didn't we do that after the Sports Festival?"

"Not exactly," Shouto says. "We weren't official interns, we were just shadowing heroes in the field. As interns with provisional licenses, we'd be given actual duties and responsibilities. The work experience week after the festival was education solely for our benefit. For interns, the expectation is that they offer something to the agencies that take them on, in return for gaining experience in the field."

"Like being a temporary sidekick?" Uraraka asks.

"Sort of, yeah. It's a chance to show one's abilities and make connections with established heroes. A lot of new pros start out as sidekicks at agencies where they interned."

"How do you even—oh, right, your dad. Are you gonna intern with him after this? Does he even take on interns?"

"Yes." A look of distaste crosses Shouto's face. "He likes the free manpower. And it's a bit early to assume success, don't you think?"

"Right, sorry. Didn't mean to jinx you. It's just hard to imagine you not passing, you know? Same with Deku." Her eyes light up. "You guys should try and intern together."

It's a nice thought, he'll admit. "Just because we're friends doesn't mean we have to. Internships aren't meant to be fun, they're mean to be educational."

"That's true, but you guys aren't just friends—you work really well together, too," Uraraka points out. "And you spar all the time, so you know each other's fighting styles inside and out. I think it'd be nice to intern with a friend, you know? It's not just safe—if you're with someone you already work well with, then you'll look better in front of the pros, right?"

That is… an excellent point. Perhaps not everything useful has to be unpleasant. "I never thought of it that way," he admits. "It's worth thinking about. I'll talk to Midoriya about it, after this. If we both pass."

"You'll pass," Uraraka tells him with a smile. "Just play to your strengths and you'll be fine."

Uraraka's a good friend. No wonder she and Midoriya get along so well.

His mood is ruined anyway when someone shoulder-checks him on the way past, almost knocking him into Uraraka. "Excuse me," Uraraka says pointedly, but the other girl simply tosses a glare over her shoulder at Shouto and keeps storming away.

He recognizes her. She'd given him trouble out on the field; the two balls stuck to his chest were from her, but in the end his ice had kept her from getting close, and he'd gotten her out himself. Apparently Midoriya isn't the only who has to deal with sore losers.

These U.A. kids aren't too bad, Inasa decides. All in all a pretty hotblooded crowd, and Inasa likes to see that in people in general, but other hero students especially. The redhead with the hardening quirk is a guy after his own heart, and his grenade friend is a little scary-looking but Inasa likes his style. Even the creepy green-haired kid is kind of cool, even if he's a little… chilly for Inasa's taste. He almost talked Inasa's ears clean off asking about his quirk, so maybe passions shows up in weird ways for some people.

Of course, he seemed pretty friendly with that one, so obviously there's no accounting for taste.

In any case, the main exam is almost starting. Most of the students that passed the first test have left the waiting room already, including most of the U.A. class. Inasa's sorry to see that Camie didn't make it; better luck next time.

He's about to go out himself when a familiar cold voice speaks from behind him. "Excuse me."

Instantly his mood drops again. Part of him wants to ignore it and move on, but that wouldn't be right. It'd be cowardly, and worst of all it would be cold. Inasa might not like the guy, but he's not going to stoop to his level.

So he turns around, looks down at Todoroki Shouto's frigid mismatched eyes, and restricts his scowl to a wrinkle of his nose. "Yeah?"

"Did I do something to you?" Todoroki asks. "It seems like you have a problem with me."

Inasa wants to laugh in his face. He doesn't remember—of course he doesn't remember. To be fair, it was tiny, in hindsight. Less than a minute of interaction, only a handful of words passed between them. But it meant everything to Inasa, while it means nothing to the one standing in front of him.

He knows for a fact that Endeavor wouldn't remember either.

"You probably hear this a lot," he says. "But you really take after your dad, don't you?"

Todoroki's eyes go even colder, and Inasa's gut twists with distaste.

"It's the eyes," he says. "I've seen 'em on both of you, and they're the same."

"My eyes—?" Todoroki's face is different, from bland, aloof curiosity to something twisting and cold and dark. His eyes flash with anger, and he pushes past Inasa and moves on to the next testing area. He brushes past by a girl from a different school, one of the students who didn't make it past round one. She sidesteps to keep out of his way, and shoots a positively venomous look at the back of his head.

So. He hasn't changed much, apparently. And he's out making more enemies, too. And no wonder, if he makes faces like that; heroes shouldn't look like that. They're supposed to be passionate, fiery, wholehearted in everything they do. Not cold and aloof like they think they're better than everyone.

The girl keeps glaring at Todoroki, and that's a comfort. At least he's not the only one who sees it.

The main exam is almost uncomfortably familiar.

They step out into a war-torn cityscape, streets torn to shreds, buildings fallen down or in the process of falling, smoke darkening the sky. The sound of thunder fills the air, from crumbling architecture and localized explosions from ruptured gas lines and fires. The wreckage is strewn with victims, far more wounded and terrified civilians than Izuku can count. It's Kamino Ward all over again, and Izuku has the distinct impression that this was completely intentional on the part of the proctors.

It's all simulated, of course. There are companies and businesses devoted to constructing disaster scenarios for the purpose of training nascent heroes. Every hapless victim before them is an actor, slathered in makeup and trained to play their part and evaluate the students responding to the artificial crisis.

Izuku trades glances with his classmates, and with any ghosts he knows among them. He tries to catch Todoroki's eye, but his friend seems focused elsewhere at the moment.

He shifts close enough to nudge him. "Hey."

Todoroki twitches. "What."

That's odd. Izuku frowns, worried. "You okay?"

His friend presses his lips together and nods. "It's nothing."

"One of the other students was giving him shit," Hino informs him helpfully. "That loud buzzcut kid you were talking about earlier. He's not a fan of Endeavor which, y'know, I get, but…"

"If you're having trouble with Yoarashi, then try and avoid him," Izuku advises. "This place is big enough that you can probably stay on opposite sides of the whole place without trying too hard, you know?"

Todoroki blinks at him, shocked, before it's replaced with comprehension. "I'll keep that in mind," he says. "Don't worry about me."

"Try not to run off on your own this time," Izuku advises. "Something tells me that won't fly in this round."

There's no time for further discussion. The exam proctor's voice drones out over the intercom, and the exam begins.

Dozens of hero students descend upon the disaster below, and Izuku almost trips when he finds himself thrust into the middle of things. His footing and balance are fine, even on uneven terrain, but as he approaches the victims, he finds himself with a problem that he's genuinely never encountered before.

He tries to focus on the task ahead, but a wave of embarrassment threatens to trip him up. This isn't even real, it's playacting and make-believe, and he feels awkward pasting a look of concern on his face when he knows that these people aren't really injured—but he forces it down the same way he forces down fear. Luckily, swallowing embarrassment is much easier than swallowing a panic attack.

He kneels by one of the victims, a boy who looks to be younger than him. "Can you move?" he asks, keeping his voice calm.

"M-my leg." The boy offers an incredibly convincing whimper. "I-I can't stand—please—"

"I've got you, I've got you," Izuku assures him, while the half-buried awkwardness makes him want to chew on his own tongue. Gingerly he maneuvers the boy into a firm, steady hold that keeps the designated wounded leg stable, and turns in the direction of the designated safe zone. Around him, the other students are falling into their roles as well, tending to other "victims." Bakugou's voice rings out from nearby as he chews out two who are "uninjured" enough to stand on their feet, and Izuku tries not to roll his eyes as they break character to scold him. That's probably going to lose him some points.

It's almost comforting, knowing that Bakugou's struggling for once. He may be a strong fighter, but there's nothing to fight here, and he wouldn't know tact or bedside manner if they jumped up and bit him.

He's still worried, of course. He hopes everyone makes it. He hopes Todoroki's okay. He hopes he doesn't screw things up too badly to pass. But he's in the right headspace now, and the task is clear.

This is his next hurdle. All he has to do is get up and over.

Katsuki seethes as he frees a victim from a hefty pile of rubble, reducing the concrete trapping her leg to dust with a controlled blast. He lets Kirishima pick her up and carry her off to safety—playing nicey-nice with civilians is his thing, not Katsuki's.

Fucking hell, why did this shitty test have to be about rescue? He wants to fight, damn it!

He pauses, surveying the area for somewhere else he can make himself useful, and jumps when he feels someone touch the back of his neck. It's light and brief, fingertips walking up the line of his spine, and it's gone before Katsuki has the chance to swat it away.

He whirls, furious, and the only people in that direction are that loudmouthed bald kid from Shiketsu, and some girl from some other school he doesn't know. The girl is closer, hands locked behind her back.

"Hey!" he barks. "Hands to your own fucking self!"

The girl rolls her eyes at him and hurries off, and Katsuki turns back to the test in front of him.

Shouto couldn't have run off to operate on his own even if he'd wanted to.

He'd be lying if he said it wasn't jarring to have to work alongside the same people he was just in a chaotic and pitched battle with not twenty minutes ago, but it is what it is.

While Midoriya and most of his other classmates scatter to tend to victims, Shouto sets his sights on the crumbling buildings. He knows his strengths and weaknesses, and while his quirk is powerful and his technique is polished by a decade of grueling training, he's not good with people. He's not like Midoriya; he doesn't know how to talk, how to make people feel a certain way, how to make them trust and like him. But he knows now that his right side is perfect for rescue operations just like this, for shoring up falling structures just long enough to extract the people trapped inside.

It helps that Yoarashi has a powerful wind quirk, and probably won't be anywhere near here.

He passes by Uraraka where she's clearing rubble, and she gives him a determined and encouraging smile.

He reaches the replica of a strip mall, and finds one of the Ketsubutsu students struggling to keep it standing so that others can move in to retrieve victims within. He has a hardening quirk—not hardening himself like Kirishima, but hardening other things. But Shouto can tell that it only hardens; it doesn't fuse or repair. It keeps the building from crumbling further, but it doesn't stabilize.

"Move over, I've got this," he says, and when the other boy hesitantly steps out of his way, he puts his right hand to the damaged wall and reinforces the structure with ice. With his left, he sends warm air wafting in toward the victims inside. The others, including the one with the hardening quirk, move in to retrieve the victims inside. Shouto stays put to make sure his ice doesn't crack or impede anyone.

His nervousness starts to recede. He can do this, as long as he plays to his own strengths and keeps his quirk under control. There's no need to try to stand out in this exam. There's no earning points; they start with a set number and lose points for mistakes. As long as he doesn't screw anything up, he'll be fine.

"Throwing your weight around already, aren'tcha?" Shouto jumps, then turns to glare at Yoarashi. He didn't see or hear the other boy come up, but here he is now, eyes narrowed as he glares at Shouto. "Your dad teach you to shove people around?"

Shouto fights to keep control of his quirk when it feels like his own body temperature is fluctuating violating. "My quirk was better suited for this," he says coldly, and grits his teeth to keep from saying anything more.

"Nobody else here is making excuses to show off," Yoarashi says. "Guess I'm not surprised you're a glory hound born and raised."

"Maybe you should worry more about yourself," Shouto grits out. Shut him out. Focus. "Your quirk's no good for areas with unstable standing structures. You'll be more use clearing rubble than bothering me." Yoarashi's eyes spark with sudden temper, and Shouto turns away. When he glances back, he's relieved to find Yoarashi gone.

He shakes himself, trying to clear his head. If Yoarashi wants to waste time antagonizing him instead of participating, then that's his problem. For a split second, as he moves on to the next problem area, he considers going to find Midoriya—but no. No, he's fine. He and Midoriya might work well together, but it's better not to rely on him for every little thing. He can do this.

Except—

Except Yoarashi will not go the fuck away.

Shouto tries to shut him out. He really does. But every time he does anything—use his quirk, talk to someone, or just try to move from one problem area to the next, Yoarashi is there with a snide, casually cutting remark. What starts as an annoyance is quickly becoming a liability.

"Todoroki! Todoroki, over here!"

He almost sighs with relief when he hears Uraraka's voice. She waves him over to a mound of rubble, beneath which he's sure more people are buried and in need of extraction. Shouto reaches her side, raising his eyebrows in an obvious question.

"There are at least five down below," she says. "But it's not stable. If I lift the wrong piece, I might send the whole thing crashing in. Can you stabilize it with ice?"

"No good," another student says. "It might take time to get them all out. Hypothermia might—"

"My left side controls heat, I'll handle it," Shouto cuts him off, already running ice and carefully controlled warm air through the rubble pile. He gets low, trying to reinforce it from the inside.

"What gives you the right to order them around?" The voice is quiet but unmistakable, setting Shouto's teeth on edge.

He tries to focus; Uraraka's already moving in, carefully floating the top layer of rubble away while he keeps the pile from collapsing in on itself. "Careful," he says tersely, if only to drown it out.

"Sounds like someone thinks he's number one already just because his daddy coasted his way into the top spot—"

The timing is poor. Uraraka lays her hands on a loadbearing piece, and as it shifts upward, Shouto feels the rest of the pile shift in ways he doesn't like. "Uraraka—" Shouto yells to stop her, which makes her jump and float it further by accident. With a frustrated growl, Shouto sends more ice to plug the hole. It works—barely—and the other students have room to reach in and pull people out.

"Be more careful!" he snaps, in full view of the other students and the evaluaters and the faux victims, and regrets it instantly when he sees Uraraka cringe with embarrassment and apologize.

Yoarashi shoots him a look as he carries a woman out from under the rubble, with a level of disgust that most people save for things that get stuck to the bottom of a dirty shoe. His parting shot rings in Shouto's ears, along with an evaluator's scolding as Shouto and Uraraka both lose points.

"I hear our new Number One treats other heroes like dirt, too. Guess you had to learn that somewhere."

In any other situation, that might have escalated things fully. But before Shouto's pent-up anger has the chance to boil over, an explosion rings out over the testing ground.

He recognizes the figures making their way into the field: it's the rank-ten hero Gang Orca, at the head of what looks like dozens of armed sidekicks—or rather henchmen, in this situation. This isn't just a disaster response and rescue simulation—they're introducing a villain element into it, as well.

Play to your strengths.

Shouto lacks tact on the best of days, and rescue operations have never been his greatest strength, but this? Combat and battle tactics? This he can do.

"We're good here," Uraraka says. "Your quirk's better for suppression anyway."

Shouto needs no second urging.

It turns out that Gang Orca is a lot bigger up close. He lives up to his code name; his heavy-duty mutation quirk makes him look like a humanoid killer whale, black and white with wild eyes and rows of wicked-looking teeth. Visually, he's well-suited for the part he's playing; he isn't the official third most villainous-looking hero for nothing.

Every one of the faux villains is armed with a two-handed gun of some sort, and Shouto stops short as one of them takes aim and fires what looks like a mass of dense sludge. A hasty wall of ice catches most of it, though some of it flecks harmlessly on Shouto's costume and hardens. Some kind of quick-drying cement. Harmless, but good for subduing an opponent. Already they're getting shots off, taking out other examinees rushing to stop them.

Shouto spreads his ice wall, hoping to shield the other examinees from the projectiles, and sends ice rocketing toward the faux villains like a wide-ranging battering ram.

Gang Orca punches through his defense with an ease that is almost insulting. With teeth, fists, and sheer brute strength, he leaves an opening wide enough for his men to pour through and engage.

Right—he's a killer whale. Ice probably won't work on him. Shouto's left arm lights up red and orange, and he braces himself to block their advance with fire.

"Already throwing fire around? You look like Endeavor's second coming!"

It's the Sports Festival all over again. One moment Shouto has control over himself, ready to drive back the oncoming force with flame, and the next—

Old shame rises within him, like bile welling up in the back of his throat. Disgust chokes off his fire, heedless of commands from his brain and the flames peter off into a blast of hot but harmless air. A cement round narrowly misses his shoulder, driving him back as he turns to glare daggers into Yoarashi Inasa's scornful face.

There isn't time for this. The faux-villains are pushing through toward the faux-civilians, and he can't afford to lose focus like this. Does Yoarashi want to fail?

He sends another wall of ice up, just to buy time, just to get himself under control again. Can he even trust himself with fire, with Yoarashi spewing poison in his ear? Can he afford to avoid using it when Gang Orca can punch through it like cheap glass?

"If you don't like how I do things," he grits out. "Then go somewhere else!"

Yoarashi takes down one of Orca's men easily, relieving him of his weapon. "Damn, you're bigheaded!" he shoots back. "What, do you think you can hold them back by yourself?"

"When you're less than useless, yes!" Shouto snaps. Gang Orca breaks through again, forcing him to retreat, and he readies his fire again.

"Don't act like you're better than everyone!" Yoarashi snarls. "Not everybody can ride up the ranks on daddy's dime!"

The fire goes wild again, and Shouto narrowly avoids taking a concrete round. Shut him out, he thinks, desperately, but it's impossible to shut him out when Yoarashi won't shut up.

"You make me so sick, I could puke! You act like you're so dark and sad when really you can have anything you want." Yoarashi wrinkles his nose, as if he's smelling something awful. "It's kind of revolting, seeing a spoiled brat like you get praised and worshipped by people who haven't even met you!"

"Shut up!" Shouto shouts back. "Do you want to pass this stupid exam, or not!"

Yoarashi laughs in his face. "Maybe I just want to make sure you fail! Ever think of that?"

"What is wrong with you!"

"Your stupid arrogant face is wrong," Yoarashi snarls. "You think you deserve everything just 'cause mommy slept with the right guy?"

Shouto sees red.

For a split second he forgets about the test, about Gang Orca about his goals and desires and convictions. Just for a moment, all he wants to do is burn Yoarashi's tongue to ash. But he holds back, somehow he holds back—because that's not the kind of person he is nor the kind of person he wants to be.

"I said shut up!" he snarls back. "My family has nothing to do with this! My father has nothing to do with this!"

Yoarashi's eyes spark, and his mouth curves into a smirk. "That's true! I guess he can't fix everything! Think they'll ask you to cover up that ugly scar for interviews?"

Shouto pours his anger into ice instead of fire, surrounding and encasing Gang Orca in a frozen prison. It's futile; the hero shatters it and sends ice shards flying. A jagged chunk hits Shouto in the face, gouging a deep scratch into his cheek.

"So how many toys did your daddy buy you to shut you up after he burned half your face off? You'd think a great hero like Endeavor would've been a little more thorough."

Tears sting at the corners of Shouto's eyes, blood runs down his face, and his flames run wildly out of control. As he fights to regain some semblance of control, he remembers belatedly that there are other students around, immobilized by cement rounds. One of them is well within range of his flames.

Green light blurs in his peripherals as Midoriya appears in the blink of an eye, scooping up the unlucky student and carrying him away from the fire.

Sakamata Kugo, otherwise known as Gang Orca, is utterly mystified.

This isn't the first time he's been called in to play the villain in license exams. He's seen fledgling heroes fail for a number of reasons: incompetence, inexperience, arrogance, and the like. But he's never seen anyone grind things to a halt to pick a fight with a fellow test-taker. And yet, the two otherwise promising students before him are doing exactly that.

He can't hear what's being said, between the roar of Todoroki Shouto's flames and the skirmish going on all around him. But it doesn't really matter what they're arguing about; either way their chances of passing at this point are slim to none.

The flames swirl violently out of control once more, and Gang Orca tenses when he spots the cement-splattered boy on the ground in its path. But another student is already on it, so he focuses back on the boys in front of him.

That mustn't happen again, no matter how seriously they said to take this simulation. With a sigh, he takes out Todoroki with a few well-placed cement rounds. He tries to do the same to the other boy, but he dodges out of the way with a speed that belies his size. Once he's out of the line of fire, he grabs one of the Orca sidekicks as a shield and stays out.

There are still flames emanating from the Todoroki boy's left side, so Kugo takes a step closer, ready to subdue him further if need be. The boy needs to be taught a lesson, if he thinks he can be a proper hero with such paltry control over his own quirk—

He doesn't see the third student coming until one of his men shouts a warning, and by then it's too late. The boy slams into him from behind in a blur of green lightning, hard enough to rock him forward a bit. He stays there, clinging to his dorsal fin, and Kugo readies himself to shake him off—

A voice reaches his ear hole, just barely audible over the cacophony around them.

"Gang Orca?" The student grunts with impact as a concrete round splatters over him from behind, but he doesn't let go. "Don't react to what I'm saying. Pretend you're still trying to shake me off. This isn't about the test, and I swear I'm not lying. There's something you need to know."

The bell rings barely a minute later, signaling the end of the exam, but Kugo hears all he needs.

Shouto's mood is low.

It's with some difficulty that he scrapes the cement off his costume so that he can change back into his school uniform, but he does so with calm, almost mechanical movements. Some of his classmates talk to him, he thinks, but he hears none of them. Familiar faces pass him by, Uraraka's and Bakugou's and Kirishima's and many others, but Shouto keeps his head down and doesn't meet their eyes.

He doesn't see Midoriya anywhere, which is awful because he really, really wants Midoriya right now. Maybe he should feel embarrassed about that, but he can save that for when he's feeling less wretched.

There's some delay in presenting the scores, and still Midoriya is nowhere to be found when the screen lights up with the names of those who passed.

Shouto doesn't want to look up, but he does, and he isn't surprised that his name isn't there. It ought to be a comfort that Bakugou's isn't either, but he can't even enjoy that when he feels so hollow.

Slowly, he shifts away from his classmates. There are too many solemn looks, pitying looks, sympathetic looks—as if he deserves sympathy. Which he doesn't, not for failing this test, not after he let himself get goaded by another student and nearly injured someone by losing control of his own quirk. Midoriya would probably protest if he heard Shouto say that—

Where is Midoriya? Under normal circumstances Shouto might suspect him of having been injured, but Shouto saw him at the end of the test and he was fine. And now his name is on the screen, he should be here to celebrate, he should be basking in his success. If he hadn't shown up, things might have gotten even worse. He deserves this win, he should be here, so where—?

An arm settles across his shoulders, and Shouto feels relieved for all of two second before he recognizes the owner of the arm. It's not Midoriya.

"Yyyep." Yoarashi pops the 'P' and leans on Shouto's shoulders, as if they're friends, as if he didn't just spend the entire test making Shouto feel lower than dirt. Shouto's face tenses until he feels the scratch on his cheek re-open and sting. "That's about what I expected! I didn't pass either, darn."

"I wonder why," Shouto says acidly. The words burn on his tongue, white-hot with anger.

"Guess I deserve that!" Yoarashi says, with a bit too much cheer for a powerful hero student who just failed an important exam. "And I guess I owe you an apology, too! I really messed you up in there, didn't I?"

Shouto's fists clench until he's sure his nails are drawing blood. It's an apology. He should accept it graciously, however he might really feel. "We both acted poorly," he grits out.

"Can't argue with that!" Yoarashi keeps leaning on him, and Shouto wonders how many people would notice if he shoved him off entirely. "Sorry about what I said about your scar. Plenty of heroes still look cool with scars, I guess! Just make sure the cameras get your good side."

Shouto is so close to doing or saying something he'll regret later. "Yoara—"

"Hey, Todoroki!"

Relief washes over him when he hears Midoriya's voice at last. His friend is standing off to the side, straight-backed, holding a hand out to him. "Midoriya. Congratulations on passing."

Midoriya smiles brightly, teeth flashing white. "Thanks! Hey, could you come with me for a sec? Aizawa-sensei wants to talk to you about something."

Shouto's heart sinks with dread. Aizawa-sensei was watching the whole exam, of course. Of course he'll want to talk to him about that frankly embarrassing display. But the only thing worse than having to talk to his homeroom teacher right now would be staying here, letting Yoarashi fucking Inasa invade his space for a second longer.

He's about to step away when Yoarashi's arm tightens around his shoulder, pulling him into something close to a one-armed hug. "Sorry to keep him," Yoarashi says. "Hiya, Midoriya. Congratulations on passing the test."

Midoriya offers a smile and nod. "Thanks. C'mon Todoroki, Sensei looked kind of impatient."

"I'm coming." To Yoarashi he offers a cool, "Excuse me," and extricates himself from under Yoarashi's arm. He accidentally bumps the other boy's hand with his face, wincing when it brushes his still-bleeding scratch.

Midoriya waves to Yoarashi, then takes hold of Shouto's arm and tows him back through the crowd of students.

It's about that point that Shouto realizes something's wrong.

For one thing, Midoriya's uniform is crooked and haphazard as if he changed in a hurry; Shouto knows he can't tie a tie to save his life, but he doesn't usually miss button holes like that. For another, he doesn't let go of Shouto even when he catches up, and his grip is tight—so tight it's almost painful. Shouto is easily keeping in step with him, but Midoriya's fingertips still dig into Shouto's forearm.

"Ow, Midoriya—"

"Sorry. Just come on. Don't look back."

"What—you're not making any sense, what are we even—"

Midoriya meets his eyes, and the smile is still on his face, but it looks more fixed and less sincere. "We're having a conversation. I'm saying something to make you feel better about the exam. Maybe you're laughing at something I said. Just come on, okay?"

Confused, and now faintly alarmed, Shouto lets Midoriya squeeze bruises into his forearm as they make their way back inside, to a spacious room behind closed double doors. Aizawa is there, but so is Gang Orca, and the exam proctor Mera, and several others.

Aizawa is at his side in an instant. "You all right?"

"I've been better," Shouto says, still confused. "I don't understand—I know I failed, but…" His voice trails off, and he looks from Aizawa to Midoriya in the hopes of getting some kind of clue. As soon as he meets Midoriya's eyes again, his blood runs cold.

The mask of calm is gone, and Shouto hasn't seen Midoriya look this haunted since the night he was rescued from Kamino.

Shouto looks to Aizawa, swallowing his dread at his teacher's grim face. "Sensei, what's going on—?"

The doors open again, and a handful of Orca's men come rushing in, looking harried. "It's no use," one of them says, voice low and apologetic. "He vanished into the crowd once Todoroki left. We lost him."

"Her," another murmurs.

"Is this about Yoarashi?" Shouto asks.

"Did he say anything to you?" Aizawa asks.

"Oh, he said plenty," Shouto blurts out, then shakes himself. "But—what about him? If there's a problem with him, then shouldn't you be talking to the teachers from Shiketsu?"

Aizawa's face darkens, and Midoriya squeezes his arm again.

"Th-that—" Midoriya's voice shakes. His face is drawn and pale, making the freckles stand out darker. "Todoroki, that wasn't Yoarashi."

A change of clothes is retrieved, a pair of shoes slipped on and tied with hot pink laces.

She trots into the shelter of an alley with a skip in her step and a hum at her lips, daydreaming of the next time she'll get to see Izuku. She wishes she could have talked to him. Given him her number, even! Well, a number. Oh, what if she'd gotten his!

For now, she's satisfied with the vial of blood in her pocket. There's so much she can do with that.