Chapter 51

"I start next week." Izuku sounds a little proud of himself. "The internship's going to last for a month. Apparently my timing was pretty good; his agency's investigating an underground villain organization." He pauses. "Not the League, though. A different one."

If anything, that assurance only stirs Toshinori's worries. Even if Izuku's first real foray into hero work doesn't pit him against the same criminals who tormented him over the past summer, it's a reminder of what the world is becoming, now that All-Might is no longer playing his part. With no more pillar of justice to chase the criminals into the dark, they are beginning to reemerge.

"And… how are things?" he asks, placing his tea down for the umpteenth time in the past ten minutes. He folds his hands so he'll leave it alone. "With Nighteye, I mean?"

"Awkward," Izuku says bluntly. "Things are awkward with him. But, y'know, I kind of expected that, after what you told me." He pauses, and to Toshinori's alarm a look of shame crosses his face. "I mean… okay, so when I first met with him, he sort of tested my abilities. And I passed, but it wasn't… nice."

Toshinori purses his lips and frowns in confusion.

"I mean I… I got a bit…" Izuku flushes. "It was like a physical test, right? Of my abilities with One For All. But I ended up not really using One For All to do it. I, um… I used my words, and ghosts. And I don't think he was expecting that."

Toshinori's heart plummets. "Do you mean that—that Nighteye has…?"

"Oh, no!" Izuku's eyes widen. "No, I didn't mean—he doesn't have any ghosts. Rei helped me—just, here's what happened. I drew him off so he wouldn't see her slipping in. And the way I drew him off wasn't…" He hesitates again, ducking his head. "I took him by surprise, and I don't think he liked it."

Toshinori's relief is uneasy. "That's… well, I suppose that's nothing new," he says at length. "For either of you." At Izuku's questioning look, he sighs a bit. "Nighteye has always been stubborn; I think it's probably natural for a man who sees the future to dislike surprises. As for you… well, it wouldn't be the first time you passed a test differently from the way you were expected to." He grimaces a little, wishing he hadn't reminded himself of the final exam. "I only hope it was as eye-opening for him as it was for me."

"Well, I talked to him again, and I think it went… better?" Izuku shrugs. "He accepted it, after all. And… I told him, about my quirk. So hopefully…" His voice trails off.

"Hopefully," Toshinori echoes.

"It's a work in progress," Izuku says. "And honestly? I think things are improving. And I'm pretty sure he can help me a lot." He pauses to study Toshinori's face. "So if you were worried, you don't have to be. I'm gonna be fine."

A knot of tension does loosen from between Toshinori's shoulders. "Good to hear it out loud," he admits. "There isn't too much to worry about—you'll be working with young Togata, won't you? He has a good head on his shoulders, from what I've seen and heard. He's not one of the 'Big Three' for nothing."

"I think everyone who has an internship got it through one of the 'big three'," Izuku says. "Uraraka and Tsuyu told me they're with Hadou-senpai under Ryukyu, and I know Kirishima followed Amajiki-senpai to work with Fatgum. Oh, wait, I forgot about Tokoyami… I don't remember what Tokoyami's doing."

"Ah, he's with Hawks," Toshinori says. "Your choices are all quite prestigious, for your first internships."

"I guess we didn't feel like dawdling," Izuku says. "Once I got my provisional license, I didn't want to waste time."

"Try not to drive yourself to a distraction before Monday, then," Toshinori tells him. "Nighteye has no patience for restless rookies who jump the gun."

He means it as a humorous little quip, but Izuku absorbs the advice with a solemn nod. "Anything else I should keep in mind?"

Surprise makes Toshinori cough, covering his mouth as the taste of blood flecks his tongue. "I'm not sure I'm the right person to ask," he rasps once it's done. "It's been six years since I last had his approval."

"How long did you have it before then?" Izuku asks.

The blunt question doesn't trigger another coughing fit, but Toshinori feels the pang all the same. He wants to say years, he wants to say for the better part of my career, but that simply isn't true. There was a time when he thought it might be, but… "A little over five years," he says at length. It strikes him like a hammer to the ribcage—they've been apart now for longer than they were partners.

"That's still a long time," Izuku says quietly. Toshinori wonders if the boy can read his thoughts on his face.

He nods, still wrestling with buried feelings and memories. "You've probably gathered as much already, but as I said, he's stubborn," he says. "Once he gets an idea into his head, it's hard for him to let it go."

"You're telling me," Izuku mutters.

In spite of himself, Toshinori cracks a little smile. "Be as plain as you can with him," he says. "He has trouble reading people sometimes, so it's best to make yourself as clear as possible. And he's the most infuriatingly practical man I've ever met. He's all logic and reason when he works a case." He pauses then, frowning as he wonders if he should really speak so openly about this. "Just keep in mind… it affects him more than he lets on."

"What?"

"His quirk. His visions." Toshinori tears his eyes from his cup to look at Izuku again. "His work in general. He'd rather shoulder it himself and present a strong, professional front, but that's what it is: a front. I think he might have picked up that habit from me."

Something changes in his successor's eyes. The thoughtful look turns hard and bright, hope and renewed determination mingling on his face. "I'll keep it in mind," he says. "Thanks, All-Might."

"Good luck, my boy."

After Izuku leaves, Toshinori makes his way back to his quarters, his fears put to rest. He knows it's at least a little irrational to worry so. Izuku may be a handful, and he may be a lightning rod for trouble, but it's not as if he's alone. He's surrounded by ghosts that Izuku assures him are friendly, Togata Mirio seems to have taken a liking to him, and…

And he's with Nighteye.

Heroics is a dangerous line of work; there are not a great many safe places for any hero to be. But under Nighteye's watch is the closest that Toshinori has ever known.

Nighteye has always been stubborn. It was his stubbornness that secured him a place at All-Might's right hand for almost six years. He holds onto his convictions. His good opinion, once lost, is nearly impossible to recover, and Toshinori doubts that he ever will.

But Nighteye is safe. There are few safer heroes that Izuku can work with.

He reaches his door and makes a beeline for the bathroom. Caught up in his own thoughts, he flicks the light switch and immediately reels back.

The bar of soap that usually sits by the sink is now on the floor, scored with deep grooves as if someone has been tearing at it. It's easy to see why, what with the message scrawled on the bathroom mirror in dried soap scum.

LITTLE BROTHER FIBBED. STUPID FOUR EYES IS BEING A BUTTHOLE.

BUT HE'S ALSO SAD.

T A L K T O H I M !!! MAKE HIM STOP BEING SAD AND MEAN !!!!

Doodled right next to the words is what looks like a childish drawing of a pile of droppings wearing glasses, complete with wavy stink lines above it.

Toshinori sighs deeply.

What did you get for question eight?

Which day?

Today's homework.

Izuku sifts through a few pages of finished equations before finding the problem Todoroki specified. Two times the square root of two, divided by three.

The library is supposed to be a quiet place, which makes it ideal for sign language practice. Todoroki even suggested a sign-language-only rule between them: whenever they study together in the library, they don't talk out loud to each other unless any of the others join them. Iida and Uraraka picked up a bit of sign themselves, back when Izuku was still mute from Kamino, but they haven't stuck to it as faithfully since school started. Izuku can't really blame them; Uraraka has enough on her plate with keeping her academics up to par, and Iida's busy with his class rep duties. Todoroki, on the other hand, has little or no trouble keeping his grades up, and aside from remedial training there's nothing stopping him. He can hold a conversation fairly easily by now; Izuku only has to stop and fingerspell every once in a while.

At the moment, Izuku has books piled in front of him as he tries to get ahead. Over the past couple of days he's been begging future classwork out of their teachers, hoping to finish as much of it as he can before his internship starts. He'll still have class whenever Nighteye doesn't need him, but it never hurts to be prepared. Besides, it means he can help Todoroki check his answers for mathematics. Or Todoroki can help him check his own answers. Either or both.

After a while, the lines on his notebook paper start to blur and crisscross, so he sits back to rub his eyes.

You okay? Todoroki asks.

Fine. Just need to rest my eyes. Izuku blinks a few times. How's your training?

Bakugou is going to drive me insane.

You'll survive, Izuku assures him, smiling faintly. Todoroki barely smiles back, just a twitch of the mouth that doesn't reach his eyes. Something wrong?

I don't think they know what to do with me sometimes, Todoroki answers, pulling a wry face. Bakugou's problems are obvious. Mine aren't, and I can't exactly tell them.

Izuku hums in sympathy. Yoarashi isn't giving you trouble, is he?

Todoroki shakes his head. No. Not the way you'd expect, at least. At Izuku's questioning look he pauses, fingers twitching as he thinks about his answer or tries to remember the correct signs for it. He's trying to make up for what he said before Toga got to him. But he's… This part he fingerspells: overcompensating.

Overcompensating, Izuku echoes, to show him the right sign for it. He sees Todoroki's hands twitch as they run through it a few times. How?

He says he misjudged me, and that's fine, Todoroki says. But he's also saying he might have misjudged Endeavor, too.

"Oof," Izuku says softly, stretching their rule. Todoroki pulls a face again. Are you going to correct him?

Would that be petty? Todoroki asks. I'm trying to leave him behind, not drag other people into holding a grudge with me.

That isn't holding a grudge, Izuku points out. He doesn't like your dad. You don't like your dad. That's called finding common ground.

Todoroki snorts softly. Besides, he's the number one hero now. He might be a bastard, but he's the only one who's ever come close to All-Might's level. He's the only one who ever tried to.

There's no easy answer, at least none that Izuku can think of. He's trying to wrack his brain for one when Rei's high-pitched static makes him turn his head. She's coming into the library, trailing after Togata and Amajiki. Togata's arm is half raised, his mouth open as if he's ready to call out, but he lowers his hand and grins when he sees that Izuku's already spotted him.

"Afternoon, Midoriya! And you, Todoroki." Behind him, Amajiki echoes him at a mumble.

Hey, Togata-senpai, what's up? It takes him a moment and a bewildered look from Togata to realize that he's greeted him in sign. Todoroki's barely hiding a smirk, and Izuku elbows him lightly and is about to repeat himself when Togata answers with his hands.

If you're not busy later, I wanted to talk to you about Monday, he says. Won't take long.

Izuku gapes. He's not looking, but he's pretty sure Todoroki is staring too. Amajiki looks equal parts pleased and ready to sink into the floor.

"Um, I'm good now," Izuku blurts out, too startled to think of anything clever to say. "Todoroki, can you watch my stuff?"

"Sure thing." Todoroki turns back to his math textbook. If he's put out by impending internship talk, he doesn't show it.

"I didn't know you knew sign," Izuku admits awkwardly, once they're out of the library. Amajiki has vanished into the stacks rather than follow them out.

"We learned when we were kids," Togata says. "Me and Tamaki. We thought it was cool, havin' a secret language to talk to each other without anyone understanding. I mean, turns out it's not all that secret. Apparently it's not uncommon for pro heroes to learn a bit of it. Just enough for combat signals and stuff, or talking to each other during covert ops. You and Todoroki look pretty fluent, though! How'd you pick it up?"

"I went through a phase where—" Izuku stops. The excuse that he once gave All-Might floats at the tip of his tongue. It's an easy lie; most lies are, but this one has a bit of practice behind it.

Except… it's not really a necessary one, is it?

Be direct, he reminds himself. Be more open. Out loud, he starts over. "I go mute sometimes, when I'm under enough stress. It happened first when I was seven, and after Kamino…" He shrugs. "I figured I'd get by just texting and writing stuff down, but Todoroki decided to learn."

"Well, that's good to know," Togata says. "Thanks for telling me, Midoriya. I haven't gotten a feel for your limits just yet, but internships like these can get pretty intense."

A nervous flutter stirs in his chest, and Izuku swallows it and pushes forward before it can show on his face. "I think I'll be fine, long as I don't have to play house with Toga Himiko again," he says with a wry grin. "The bar's pretty high at this point."

Instead of laughing it off, Togata does an odd little twisty thing with his eyebrows that's gone before Izuku can translate it to an emotion. "Not exactly a good mindset to start with," he says. "That was one of the things I wanted to bring up—it's good to be confident, and I don't doubt you've got experience already, especially considering Kamino, but this'll be different from what you've seen so far."

Izuku tries not to wince. He knows this, but maybe putting on a cocky front isn't the best strategy. "Right. Sorry."

"It's all right. Like I said, at the very least I'll be with you at the start, and I think Sir's pretty set on having me keep an eye on you." He brightens. "I don't exactly have seniority in his office, so it's not often he gets to exercise my management skills. He doesn't take on new interns very often, at least as far as I've seen. He's pretty particular."

High standards, All-Might had said. And Izuku has a sinking feeling that Nighteye only gave him a chance because he expected him to fail that test—and he would have, almost definitely, if not for Rei. He forces his misgivings behind another grin. "What'd you do to get him to like you so much? You must know some good jokes. Did it take props, or is he more of an improv kind of guy?"

Togata shakes his head, smiling a little. "Honestly, I couldn't tell you. For one thing, he was the one who sought me out, a little over a year ago. I'm not sure exactly what he saw in me, but… I've come a long way, and I owe it all to him." Izuku nods, keeping his face neutral. That confirms one assumption; Mirio doesn't know about One For All, or Nighteye's intentions to have it passed to him. "Just… try to be patient, you know? Show him what you do best, and listen if he tells you how to do it better. And if you can't speak his language, then just…"

"High-five Uraraka, aim for the sun, got it," Izuku says automatically, then suppresses the urge to wince.

Togata gives him a long, considering look. "It's okay to be nervous, you know," he says. "There's no shame in it."

Izuku flushes in embarrassment.

"You're a little more like Sir than I first thought," Togata goes on, a little ruefully. "It's just your sense of humor that's different. I mean, he brushes things off when he's uncomfortable, too."

He's not entirely sure how to take that.

"That's a good place to start, you know," Togata says. "Common ground." He smiles again. "I was nervous before my first patrol with him, too. So, I get it. And I can look out for you."

Izuku lets himself deflate a little. "Thanks, senpai."

"And hey, just keep this in mind—it's just the first patrol! It's pretty unlikely that we'll run into anything we can't handle between us."

"What do you make of him, Mirio?"

It's by design that Mirio arrives at the office before Midoriya does; this isn't something to discuss when Midoriya is within earshot, nor present at all. Truthfully, Nighteye wanted to have this conversation earlier, but it's better for Mirio to have enough time to make a properly informed answer.

The young man blinks in surprise, barely pausing before answering. "Midoriya? It's like I said before, Sir. He's strong and he's driven, and… well, considering what he's been through, that's kind of a given, isn't it? I know the media likes to tell a good story, but there's plenty of truth to it. And he's clever, too, and quite resourceful from what I've seen—that's the part they left out of the news. I get the feeling he's stronger than he lets on, and I'm not sure if it has to do with just his quirk."

Nighteye purses his lips, wrestling with the disparity in their knowledge. Of course Mirio wouldn't know that a lot of his cleverness can be chalked up to hearing the voices of the dead—who would guess? But in any case—"I don't mean his skills as a potential hero," he says. "Those don't worry me. Even if they were less than satisfactory, he's only a first year and they can be improved. What concerns me more is the shape of his character."

At this, his protege frowns. "Sir?"

"You've spent more time with him in a less professional setting," Nighteye says. "I trust your judgment, and I value your honest opinion. What do you think of him?"

This time, Mirio takes longer to respond. His brow creases in a thoughtful frown as he shapes his answer carefully before offering it. "Honestly, sir? I think he's a teenage boy."

Nighteye blinks.

Mirio looks sheepish for a moment. "I know, it should be obvious, but… that's really it, isn't it? I think he's a kid who's doing his best to pretend he doesn't feel like he's in over his head. I think he feels like he's alone and nobody knows what it's like to be him, and he wants to prove himself but he's also desperate to find someone who understands what he's going through." He stops to grin brightly at Nighteye. "I mean, he's basically where I was, back then. That's why I brought him here."

Nighteye doesn't have as much time as he'd like to formulate a response; the boy in question will be arriving shortly, so he offers a noncommittal nod and thanks Mirio for his answer.

It makes a little sense, of course. Youth is volatile. The underground hero Eraserhead said it best, all those weeks ago on the night that the League of Villains was raided. Teenagers are in flux, and what they are at one moment is not necessarily what they will always be. Nighteye knows this.

But he also knows that people, young and old, are shaped by their quirks. Be it the power itself or what society expects of it, the quirk or lack thereof forms an integral and immutable part of one's identity. It shapes one's physical needs, one's emotional needs, one's outlook on life…

and death, as well.

Midoriya arrives with minutes to spare, dressed for patrol. His face looks weary but his eyes are as sharp as ever. A shiver runs up and down Nighteye's spine as his uncertainty grows to agitation.

He briefs them before the patrol starts; he'll be with Bubble Girl, one of his sidekicks, while Mirio and Midoriya cover another area. It's mostly reconnaissance for now; he balks at the idea of sending interns after a villain like Overhaul.

With All For One dead and All-Might permanently retired, the criminal underworld has exploded. Opportunistic gangs and organizations rush to fill the spaces left in the power vacuum, striking while the iron is hot and the hero world struggles to work around All-Might's absence. Overhaul is one of the most worrying of them, a young gangster looking to restore the old yakuzas. All-Might's time as the Symbol of Peace left those groups a pale shadow of their former selves; with him gone, it stands to reason that the younger upstarts would want to reclaim the glory of past generations. His plan isn't clear just yet, but it has to do with the drug trade; new quirk suppressant bullets have surfaced on the black market. It's not clear where Overhaul is getting his supply, or how it's being produced, but hopefully they'll have some answers soon.

Any information would be a boon; at this point they don't know what his quirk is, or even what he looks like behind that beaklike mask.

And so, it's time for reconnaissance. The areas they're covering today are hot spots of yakuza activity and sightings of Overhaul himself. If Nighteye can track down even the lowest footsoldier, a quick tap on the shoulder and a—careful—application of his quirk may tell him at least where they're hiding. And as for the other pair… no one pays much attention to wide-eyed interns. Mirio can play the part, and Midoriya doesn't have to. With any luck, they'll be in a good position to spot something useful.

When he's finished, Midoriya steps closer and speaks under his breath, head angled away so the others won't overhear. Mirio pauses to wait for him, and Midoriya waves him on. Nighteye gives Bubble Girl a nod, and she steps away as well.

"I can ask around, too," Midoriya tells him. "A villain like Overhaul's bound to have ghosts with him. Most of the League do, too. Should I keep an ear out for anything useful?"

Logically, it's a good plan. It's enormously useful. Frighteningly so, even. Nighteye's stomach turns at the thought, and the eager, hopeful look in Midoriya's strange eyes isn't helping. If Nighteye didn't know better, he'd say the boy was hoping Overhaul and his ilk were murderers surrounded by the ghosts of their victims.

"Do so," he says, grudgingly. "And do not take unnecessary risks."

"Not much chance of that," Midoriya points out. "Aizawa-sensei's already told us that most pros just patrol for show anyway."

The cavalier words set his teeth on edge. "If you chose this because you thought it would be easy, then it only makes me question certain careless decisions even more."

Midoriya looks away quickly, probably to try to hide how he's rolling his eyes.

"My convictions have not changed," Nighteye says coolly. "Your supposed quirklessness was only one source of my misgivings. In fact, the quirk that you do have only raises new concerns."

At this, the student bridles visibly, and nearly glares at him. "I can help people with it. I have helped people with it."

Nighteye's mouth tightens. "That's beside the point."

"How is that beside the—?"

"There's a difference between having potential as a hero and being worthy of One For All," Nighteye tells him coldly. "You may be one, but you are not both."

Midoriya stares at him for a moment longer, then turns his back. Nighteye can't see his face, but he can imagine another eye-roll. "Thank you for your input." With that he stalks off in the direction Mirio is taking. Up ahead, the older boy waits for him to catch up.

As Midoriya hurries away, back still turned, another chill takes hold of Nighteye. He rides it out as stoically as he can, swallowing back his trepidation.

He probably should have used his quirk on one of them, at least to make sure that their patrol goes smoothly. But there is little he hates more than the thought of using his quirk on the young.

He can't quantify it. Nor can he account for the icy dread that fills him at the thought of looking into Midoriya Izuku's future again.

"What the fuck," Nana blurts out once they're out of hearing range of Nighteye. It's an odd choice, considering that he can't hear her anyway, but Izuku supposes that habits are habits. "What the actual fuck."

Rei cackles. There's not much that Izuku can say with Togata right next to him, so he settles for shooting them both a pained look.

Either he's gotten a lot worse at hiding things, or Rei's gone and tattled on him. He can't think of any other reason why Nana would insist on accompanying him today. Usually she can hardly be parted from All-Might, and he wishes that could have held true today. The last thing he wanted was for Nighteye's disapproval to reach her ears—or heaven forbid, All-Might's. It would feel too much like his first experience with real hero work was more than he could handle, like he had to run crying to his mentor because his new supervisor was mean to him.

"I mean, who does he think he is?" Nana goes on, face crumpling into a righteous scowl. "Sorahiko might've griped about Toshi's habits, but he never tried to tell me who to give my quirk to—" She continues to grumble, and Izuku tunes her out.

He can see why she would take Nighteye's words personally, but he can't bring himself to feel the same. Nighteye's opinion on who gets One For All just doesn't matter to him, at all; he might as well get offended over Todoroki liking soba more than katsudon.

A light knock to the side of his head brings him back to attention. Sheepishly he looks to Togata, then glances around in case there's something he's supposed to be looking at. "Sorry, what?"

"Thought I lost you there," Togata says good-naturedly. "Your eyes sort of rolled back and you disappeared for a minute. Keep a lookout, now. You remember those photographs Sir showed us before we headed out?"

Izuku nods. Nighteye showed them photographs of Overhaul and a couple of his known lieutenants—for all the good that did. No one's managed to catch them unmasked before, so if they're wandering around barefaced, he's not likely to spot them.

"Keep an eye out for them, and for any foul play," Togata advises. "Usually the presence of heroes is enough of a deterrent, but some villains are bold, especially nowadays. Just pay attention to your surroundings. If you don't, it's easier for someone to get the drop on you."

"Right, got it." Izuku lets his eyes wander throughout the crowds, scanning not just the living but the dead as well. There are quite a few of the latter, passing through but not lingering or haunting. They aren't thick and crowded and choking the way they were in the warehouse in Kamino Ward, and there are no familiar faces, not that he's expecting any. Izuku has to wonder what kind of villain Overhaul is, and how many ghosts he has following him.

Nana squeezes his shoulder gently. "Sorry for distracting you," she murmurs. "Tell you what, I'll have a look around. Might as well be helpful, long as I'm here."

"Ask other ghosts if they've seen anything," Izuku murmurs out of the corner of his mouth.

She nods. "C'mon, Rei, let's go see what there is to see."

He almost doesn't hear that, because Togata speaks up at the same time. "Did you say something?"

"Just talking to myself," Izuku says as he watches Nana and Rei disappear into the crowd.

"Any thoughts worth sharing?"

"How much of a deterrent are we, really?" Izuku asks, as he continues idly scanning their surroundings. "We're pretty obviously students—well, I'm pretty obviously a student. And considering how bold villains are being, you'd think a couple of unsupervised students would be targets more than deterrents."

He can almost feel Togata's sharp look on the back of his head. "Your class really has been in the firing line, huh?"

Izuku leaves off watching passersby to look the older student in the eye. "I was kidnapped for four days, senpai."

At this, Togata looks a bit sheepish. "Right."

"And it's not like things were any better before that. Two villain attacks in a year, three if you count the door disintegrating on the first week of school, four if you count three of us being in Hosu the night Stain was arrested…" Izuku shrugs, grinning wryly. "Probably safer to assume someone's out to get me."

"Well, you have a point," Togata concedes. "But, don't underestimate the power of this." He tugs lightly at Izuku's hood. "It's something I noticed when I started taking on real internships—even if you're still a kid, people look at you and talk to you differently when you're in costume. That's why they say patrols are mostly for show. Besides—we're in public, several different agencies patrol this area, and in an emergency Sir'll be here at the press of a panic button. Just keep a weather eye out and we'll be fine."

For the most part, Togata is right. A few passersby call out greetings, and Izuku lets Togata do most of the talking. He smiles when people greet him and makes eye contact with various ghosts, just so they know he can see them and he's paying attention. When the dead greet him, he spares close-lipped smiles for them, as well. The surprise and delight he sees on their pale faces is well worth it. Before long, the familiar chill of Rei's presence returns, and he looks up with his hand twitching in a furtive wave.

Then the chill sharpens to an icy claw of fear, and he jerks his head up to look when Rei arrives.

Her face is urgent, black eyes leaking, lips curled in a menacing grimace. She waves at him to follow, and her movement are erratic enough that he barely catches her signs.

—hurry up she's in trouble—

"Hey senpai, do we have a set path?" he asks.

"Not particularly," Togata replies. "Just the area we're supposed to patrol. Why?"

"Can we head this way?" he asks, gesturing in the direction Rei beckons. "Thought I saw something. Might be nothing, but…"

Togata's dark eyes flicker past him, sharpening with focus. "Define 'something'."

"Face from a photograph," he says. It's a quick lie, easily brushed off with the excuse that those faces were masked and difficult to identify. "Like I said, I might be wrong, but…"

"It's worth checking," Togata says with a nod. "Let's go."

Izuku picks up the pace a little as he sets off to follow Rei, and is relieved when Togata wordlessly matches it rather than calling him on it. He keeps an eye on Rei's back, making sure not to lose her as they weave their way through the crowd.

"Oh, by the way, it slipped my mind," Togata says. It sounds like small talk, but when Izuku glances at him, Togata's face is just as sharp and focused as he feels. "What's your hero name? I haven't thought to ask before now."

"Oh, it's Deku," Izuku replies. "Long story. You?"

"Lemillion," Togata says with a grin. "It's my running minimum—I want to save at least one million lives before I can really consider myself remotely satisfied as a hero. And even then it's more of a jumping off point than a cap. Plus it's a play on my name. The English word sounds similar, so…"

"Clever," Izuku says absently. He does mean it, but Rei is slowing down and moving to the side, pointing ahead to something he should see through the loose throng of people—

Oh.

His eyes are quick enough to catch it ahead of time—movement through the sea of legs, small and quick and pale but not ghost-pale.

He doesn't have time to alert Togata before the nearest people part and the tiny figure comes stumbling through on unsteady legs. Izuku barely has time to kneel down and reach out before the small, solid weight crashing into him and clings.

Immediately his senses are assaulted—not by the child trembling in his arms but the ghost that accompanies her. He tries to look up at it, but his eyes hurt; they keep flickering in and out of view, even worse than the most volatile poltergeists he's ever come across. It's hard to focus on them, nearly impossible to translate the shifting, unstable apparition into the image of a person. The voice is harsh and grating against his ears, a desperate shriek that drills deep into his brain until he can barely pick it apart into words.

"—he's coming, help her, get her away, please, don't let him touch her again—"

Nana's there, speaking urgently to the spirit, but there's not enough of them there to understand. Rei places herself between them and Izuku, and he lets himself focus on the living.

"Hey there," he says softly, hesitant to touch the child. What if she's injured? What if he makes it worse by accident? "Are you all right? Is someone after you?"

She's small, painfully small—tinier than Rei, tinier than Kouta, thin and unkempt in a faded threadbare smock. Tangled white hair falls over her face, parted at the right side of her forehead by a single tiny horn, and spilling down her shoulders and past her bandaged arms. Izuku holds her as gently as he can, tense and alarmed as she whispers almost too quietly for him to hear.

"Don't let go." She isn't looking at him. She's looking straight ahead, barely blinking, trembling violently from head to toe as she clutches him. "Please, don't let go."

The tormented ghost screams at him in wordless pain.

"Izuku," Nana's voice cuts through the ghost's ear-splitting distress, and her cold grip drags him back to his feet. "Izuku, take that girl and get out. Get out, now. That man in the mask, Overhaul? He's after her. He's coming, Izuku, get out before you run out of time."

As he stands, the grip on him tightens. The little girl clutches handfuls of his costume, and he keeps his hands on her shoulders. She said not to let go; he's not going to let go.

"Deku?" Togata steps closer, hand falling on his shoulder. "Deku, what did she say?"

Before Izuku can reply, the tortured ghost shrieks again, Rei snarls a warning, and he looks up in the direction that the girl came.

It's hard to see, with all the passersby shifting and passing between them. But—there, through the crowd—

Izuku doesn't need to recognize a bare face. Not when Overhaul wears the mask in public.

"Lemillion," he hisses. The grip on his shoulder tightens. He's out of time. "We can lose him in the crowd—"

"Go," Togata murmurs. "I'll meet you back where we split off from Sir." When Izuku hesitates, he shoves at him. "I'll stall him and anyone with him, go."

There's no time to argue. Izuku tugs the little girl up as gently as he dares and slips through the crowd. She's slow, her steps unsteady, so he lifts her up and carries her, heart in his throat.

"Not too fast, kiddo," Nana tells him. "Walk fast but don't run. If you run, he'll see the movement through the crowd. Just weave through, you're doing great."

"Tell me if you see anyone watching or following," he murmurs. If the girl in his arms thinks anything of him speaking to empty air, she says nothing, just hides her face in his shoulder and holds on. He shifts his grip on her, resting her weight on his hip. He can hear Nana talking to other ghosts around him, spreading the word, asking for help, but he can't let go of the panic just yet.

Togata's still back there—Togata's alone with Overhaul, facing down a dangerous man without any backup. They're both separated and alone, and maybe they should have thought this plan through more, but damn it there hadn't been time.

"It's all right," he says under his breath. "It's all right. I'll meet up with some friends, and we'll take you somewhere safe. Okay?"

The child nods against him.

"What's your name?" he asks.

For a moment he thinks she's not going to answer, but then, "Eri," reaches his ears in the softest whisper.

"Nice to meet you, Eri," he murmurs back. "You can call me Deku. Just hang on, this'll be over soon, okay?"

She doesn't answer, and Izuku turns to the ghost following at his elbow. Rei's hair swirls in agitation as he meets her eyes, and a desperate idea comes to him in an instant.

"Ah, that's a little odd, isn't it," is the first thing Mirio hears Overhaul say when he "wanders" into the villain's path. "You're a hero, right? Did your partner go off and leave you here alone?"

His heart is in his throat as he curses his haste. It was a mistake, splitting up like that, but something in the air had put Mirio on edge, ratcheting up his fear until he acted on impulse rather than coming up with a better plan.

Outwardly he puts on the same winning smile he offers everyone. Overhaul isn't a very well-known villain, and while that beaklike mask may be distinctive, there's nothing overtly special about it. Plenty of people have need of assistive devices for various disruptive quirks, and it's not out of the ordinary to stylize them. If he plays his cards right, then he can get away with not recognizing the villain for who he is.

"Ah, my partner's run off for the moment," he says sheepishly. "It's his first day, so he pulled a bit of a rookie mistake. I just hope our supervisor won't be too upset with me! We're both fledgling heroes, but I have seniority, so I was supposed to be looking after him. Guess he got a little excited—he's one of those eager-to-prove himself types." He keeps his speech casual and unhurried, hoping against hope he's buying time. He doesn't dare look to see if Midoriya's still in sight.

"I see. Now, there was a girl with you, earlier." Above the mask, Overhaul's eyes narrow. "I saw her reach you, from far off. Do you think you could call your partner to bring her back? I'm afraid we got separated in the crowd, and she must have panicked."

Mirio blinks in surprise, eyes wide and innocent. "Ah, she was with you?"

"My daughter," Overhaul explains, and Mirio's blood runs cold. "She's a troublesome child."

The girl had been thin, malnourished, and poorly dressed. Beneath the sleeves and hem of her shabby covering, her arms and legs had been wrapped in bandaging. "I see," he says, forcing the disgust and revulsion deeper into his chest, where it wouldn't make his voice tremble. "I'm so very sorry, sir. She ran off again before we could stop her. That's why my partner's gone, you see. He ran after her to try to catch her before she got hurt—"

"Which way?" the villain asks.

Mirio hems and haws for a moment, finally taking the opportunity to look around. It's a good thing Midoriya hadn't had his hood up when he left, or the shape of it would have shown through the crowd and given him away— "It could've been… but, oh wait, she wasn't running in a straight line, so maybe…? Goodness, I think I'm getting confused. You know, I could try calling him—"

"Are you sure you can't remember?" There's an edge to the villain's tone.

His eyes catch movement. A small figure in a long white shirt, bare from the knees down, darts through the crowd of legs. Mirio turns away, fighting down panic. The girl's back—how? Did Midoriya lose her?

"Ah, there she is." The villain's voice reaches him again. "Thank you for your help, hero."

No, no, no. "Are you quite sure?" he asks, reaching for the villain's arm, if only to stall him a moment more. "I thought I saw them heading—"

"Don't touch me."

He pulls back, pulse stuttering with a sudden spike of fear. The villain has been calm thus far, almost friendly, and the sudden poisonous menace in his tone stop Mirio short. In spite of the words, the villain doesn't pull away; if anything, he thrusts himself closer and forces Mirio to back away and drop his hand. Cold eyes bore into him from over the mask, and Mirio wonders if the villain will kill him then and there, in broad daylight, if he makes the mistake of touching him.

Best not to find out.

"I apologize," he says. "I meant no offense. I was only trying to help."

"Don't worry, little hero." Overhaul's voice is calm and friendly again, as if the moment of fury never happened at all. "You've been plenty of help."

He's gone before Mirio can get another word out, and he has little choice but to watch him go.

His phone buzzes. Mirio is already weaving through the crowd as he checks it, dreading the inevitable message that the little girl has slipped through Midoriya's fingers.

Back at meeting point, it reads. Girl safe. Pls respond. Nighteye might actually kill me if u die.

He walks with purpose, but does not hurry. Eri is small and tired, and her time with him has burned the hope from her. She won't get far; as irritating as this little adventure has been, he never expected her to. The heroes were a close call, but his luck has held. It would have been a pity, to have to kill a pair of heroes before they got old enough to be interesting.

He follows the darting figure ahead of him as glimpses of her disappear and reappear through the loose crowd. She's headed for the side streets, away from the main road—good. Less people to see her struggle when he takes her back.

As he breaks free from the crowd, he sees the hem of a smock disappear around the corner of an alley, and smiles. That way leads to a dead end, lined with bare brick walls. No doors, no escape routes, not even a dumpster to hide behind. He turns the corner, mouth opening to call her back.

Before him, the alleyway stands empty.

He stands there, frozen and contemplative, as the bare walls seem to mock him. She isn't here. He saw her turn here and she isn't here, which means he was tricked into seeing something that wasn't real, which means… she must still be with the heroes…

The heart of his entire operation, in the hands of those—sick, contaminated, poisonous, vermin—

It comes without warning. His unease roars up, growing into overwhelming terror in an instant.

They'll infect her, fill her with the same disease that's taken over the world, the obsession and worship that pollutes the very air they breathe, he hasn't manufactured the cure yet, just the treatment, he needs her back or it's all for nothing, everything has been for nothing

Minutes pass before it fades, terror ebbing, pounding heartbeat easing until he can hear again over the deafening pulse in his ears. Rationality eases back into his mind, beating back the fear.

Never mind. No matter. If they ruin her, if they contaminate her, it doesn't matter. He'll fix it, fix her, and if he has to take her apart and put her back together again to do it, then fine. It's all fine.

He just has to get her back first. He's lost time chasing a mirage; probably one of the heroes' quirks at work. They're likely long gone by now, with Eri hidden away behind lock and key and armed guard.

He takes a deep, slow breath, drinking in the clean unpolluted air that filters through the mask.

A setback, that's all. He can recover

The thought carries him back to the safety of home, past the pleas and apologies of Eri's last babysitter as he reduces the man to a spatter on the wall with a careless brush of his hand.