Chapter 4

Izuku is no stranger to fear.

He's an expert at fear. He breathes through a pounding heart, eats through butterflies in his stomach, and sleeps through creaking doors and moaning in the walls. When fear comes knocking, he greets it like an irritating roommate and goes on with his day.

And yet, when Bakugou's glare burns a hole in the back of his head, he wants to run. When Bakugou follows him outside, he wants to hide. When Bakugou grabs him by the shoulder and shoves him up against a wall, he wants to curl up and wait for him to go away. But he can't, not with Bakugou holding him upright. So instead, Izuku feels himself freeze up again. Rei tries to drag Bakugou away from him, but it won't work. It never does. The noises around him sound oddly muffled, as if he's wearing ear plugs, but it's not enough to block out what Bakugou is saying.

"What dirty goddamn trick did you use to pass the exam? Answer me, you little shit!"

Izuku doesn't answer. He can't, not when his tongue is locked in his mouth. It's all he can do just to stare dumbly at Bakugou's face. It won't happen. He won't do it. There's no way for him to do it even if he wanted to. And he won't. I'll he'll do is yell at me like he always does. It won't happen. It won't.

"-you fucking listening to me? I was supposed to be the first to get into Yuuei from this shitty school! And you pissed all over that!"

Izuku stares at him, silent and frozen and as blank as TV static. He won't do it again. It won't happen. Bakugou's grip on his shoulder is tight enough to bruise, just like the ghost on the beach – the beach where he trained, where he bled and puked and sweated for six months until the day of the exam. The mantra fades, and frustration puts new thoughts in his head. It wasn't a trick. It was me. I earned it. All-Might said so. It's not about you. It wasn't a trick.

"I told you to go someplace else, you fuck!" Bakugou shakes him roughly, and the back of Izuku's head knocks against the wall behind him.

My friends are scarier than you are.

Izuku locks eyes with Bakugou again, unblinking, all his senses muffled.

"Does it make you feel big?" he asks.

And Bakugou is the first to blink.

"What-"

"Does it make you feel big, to hurt someone who won't fight back?"

Bakugou's eyes narrow. His lips curl, showing his clenched teeth. "What the fuck are you talking about-"

"Does it make you feel strong, beating on kids who don't have quirks?" Part of him, a small part, is screaming at him to shut up before he makes Bakugou angry enough to hit him. But what will that do? It's just a hit. All it can do is leave a bruise or make him bleed. "Does it make you feel brave, when they're scared of you?"

"Shut the fuck up," Bakugou snarls, and Izuku sees sparks and smoke in the hand that grips his shoulder.

The worst – the very worst he can do to you, is kill you by accident.

"You'll have to," Izuku says without thinking.

"I'll have to what?" Bakugou spits back.

"Kill me. If you want to stop me." All-Might smiles to trick the fear inside him, so Izuku smiles at Bakugou. "If you don't, then I'm going to Yuuei." Izuku watches Bakugou's eyes in the same way he'd watch the lights of an oncoming train. "Or do you just want me to cry, Bakugou? Will that make you feel big?"

Bakugou lets go.

It's weird – for a moment it's like Bakugou hasn't even noticed he's let go. But he does, and he seems almost surprised when it happens.

Movement returns to Izuku's legs, and he slides away from the wall and out of Bakugou's reach. He doesn't run. He walks, and Bakugou doesn't follow.

Times like these make Izuku painfully aware of how fundamentally useless his quirk is.

Not One For All – One For All is cool and amazing and exactly what he needs to become a pro hero. Or, at least, it will be once he figures out how to use it without completely obliterating his arms and legs. That's a habit he'd rather break as soon as possible.

But he hasn't yet, which is a problem when the first order of business on the first day of school turns out to be a quirk assessment test, and he's liable to get kicked out if he scores low enough. Since he's not interested in ending his first day of school with a trip to the hospital, he's going to have to make do with what he had before One For All.

But, as Izuku has long accepted since he was old enough and sufficiently self-aware to navel-gaze about his own quirk, seeing ghosts isn't going to help him run fast, jump high, or do more squats. So hopefully, his six months of grueling training will pan out and keep him from getting expelled on his first day.

The school athletic field is abuzz with conversation, and not just from his chattier classmates. There are ghosts here, not necessarily tied to the place or haunting anyone, but simply passing through and watching the world around them. As Izuku bounces on the balls of his feet and waits for the tests to start, he happens to glance over and see Rei standing at the sidelines, pale and washed out against the bright green turf, watching him through a part in her hair like she's peeking through a curtain.

Izuku checks his peripherals to make sure no one notices, and flashes her a quick smile and a wave. She perks up, lifting her head so that more of her hair falls away from her face, and bounces a little as she waves back.

"Hey, did you see that? Did he just wave?" Izuku almost panics, but relaxes when the speaker turns out to be another ghost drifting by, a teenager with a hole in his temple that still leaks blood. "Hey, little girl. Did that guy just wave at you?" She nods vigorously. "Holy shit. Can he – can he see us?"

Oh, why not. Izuku locks eyes with the ghost, grins, and winks. The guy's face lights up like it's New Year's Eve.

Word travels fast among the dead. Before long, Izuku has a little audience at the sidelines. Rei is still at the front, watching eagerly as the quirk assessment tests begin.

He wishes he could have given a better account of himself in front of them, he really does. By all accounts, he should have been able to. Sixth months of training was hardly nothing, right? He's been eating better, strengthening himself at almost every available moment, building up his stamina to levels he never dared dream of before. But for every test, every race, every assessment of every possible athletic ability under the sun, there is always someone better. There is always someone, or two, or three or more, whose quirks are perfect for blowing his attempts out of the water. Iida's speed lets him dominate the sprint. Uraraka's gravity manipulation makes the long jump a joke. Satou does push-ups like a man possessed (so to speak).

Izuku, in the meantime, has… an extra cheering section that no one else can see.

That's…

Well, it's not nothing.

"Hey, buddy, you're doing great!"

"Yeah, c'mon, kid, keep your chin up! You're faster than I ever was back when I had lungs!"

"Don't give up!"

"Did you see those other two? You left 'em in your dust! Keep it up!"

Rei hops up and down, though her feet never actually touch the ground. Her hair twists in an unseen wind and reveals light-swallowing black pits for eyes, and her cheering sounds a little bit like a Ringwraith, but it's still a nice feeling. The voices of the dead drown out Bakugou's jeering, and let him focus on something that's not Aizawa's cold stare.

In spite of himself, Izuku smiles. His power might not be good for hero work, but it's nice for not feeling alone sometimes.

Still, his stomach turns as he picks up a ball for the pitching test. He's almost done with the tests. Maybe what he really needs to do is go all out, just once. He hasn't gotten the chance to show off his quirk (his second one, at least) and he's not sure the rest of the tests are good for showing off One For All. Maybe if he blows everything now, it'll still be okay. Maybe all he has to do is get Aizawa's attention and prove that he can at least do something. That's what the point of this assessment is, isn't it? Showing him where he is, in terms of power?

It's worth a shot, at least. And by that, it means it's the only thing Izuku can think of.

One shot of One For All, and he'll probably be out for the count but at least he'll have made some kind of an impression.

The ghosts whoop loudly as his throwing arm ripples with energy. Izuku winds up for the pitch, focuses on the cheering, and-

Silence.

Izuku is is about to swing his arm for the throw when the voices egging him on vanish. The feeling of cotton-thickness in his ears makes him look up, searching the sidelines for what might have made the ghosts go quiet, and finds himself staring at empty grass. The ghosts are gone, and Rei – his mute, terrifying nightmare of a best friend, who's hardly strayed from his side since he was seven years old – is nowhere to be seen. The only people left watching are his living, breathing classmates, and there are nineteen of them plus one homeroom teacher but the athletic field feels suddenly so very empty.

The shock of silence, of the split-second powerful feeling of being alone, breaks Izuku's concentration. He loses his grip on One For All, which throws off the weight of the pitch. The ball sails forward about twenty meters before bouncing pitifully on the ground.

For a moment, panic rushes through Izuku with such force and volume that he can't even react beyond a blank stare. The ghosts left? Why would they leave? They didn't just lose interest and decide to, they vanished in the middle of yelling encouragement. And why would Rei leave? Did something happen to them? Could something happen to ghosts?

"I erased your quirk." Aizawa's voice cuts through his numb, mute shock, and he startles like a rabbit and doesn't quite manage to muffle a quiet noise of alarm. Among his classmates, someone giggles.

"W-what?" His heart beats frantically, and Izuku distantly recognizes the fluttery pain in his chest, and the heavy pit in his stomach, as nothing short of fear.

(Isn't it backwards that he's frightened because of the absence of ghosts?)

Aizawa's starting to look like a ghost himself, with the pale face and red-rimmed eyes and dark hair rising as if on an unseen wind. Izuku takes in the scarf, the goggles, and the strange quirk, and the realization of just who his homeroom teacher is hits him full force.

"You have no idea how to use your quirk properly, do you?" Eraserhead says coldly, stepping forward. His scarf ripples around him as if it has a life of its own. "What, did you believe someone would save you if you crippled yourself again?"

Bad judgment call bad judgment call should've stuck with the original plan-

The scarf wraps around him, jerking him forward, and another flash of panic turns his vision white for a moment. Fight or flight instinct kicks in, and as Aizawa's voice fades to the background of his own thunderous pulse in his ears, Izuku manages to glance down at his own hand. He twitches his finger experimentally, and is rewarded by a spark of One For All in his fingertip.

He erased my quirk, he realizes through the pounding in his ears. But he erased the wrong one.

"Face it, Midoriya Izuku." Aizawa's voice, flat and cold, brings him out of his panic and back to the present. "With a power like that, you'll never become a hero."

A moment passes, and Aizawa's hair falls back into his face, Izuku's ears pop as the voices of the dead return and he oh wow that's where she went.

Rei is no longer watching at the sidelines. Her face is no longer pale, her eyes no longer dark. It's like the color has been reversed – her entire form, from her skin to her nightdress to her hair, is the kind of black that swallows light and lets nothing reflect back. The only whiteness left is in the eerie pale light that shines out of her eyes and her mouth (mouths are not supposed to be that way, lips are not supposed to stretch that wide, sweet little girls are not supposed to have fangs that bristle like dark thorns against the glow). Her writhing tendrils of hair put the scarf to shame as they whip and slither around his teacher's arms and throat, and her fingers stretch and curve into hard, spindly claws to rake at him. Her mouth stretches wide like a crocodile, and she gives vent to her fury inches from Aizawa's face. Izuku's ears burn with her screaming, and her rage presses him like a hot iron.

Aizawa blinks slowly at him. "Something the matter?"

"Let go," Izuku blurts out before he can stop himself. Aizawa raises an eyebrow at him. "I mean, um. Please? You should probably… so I can… throw. The ball."

Aizawa looks bored, but he complies and turns away to watch by the sidelines again. It's not until the scarf is well away from Izuku that Rei gives one final shriek, swipes at the back of Aizawa's head, and backs off. The darkness fades, and a pale little girl stands at Izuku's side once more.

He can't stop shaking.

Did he give himself away? Did Aizawa notice? How the hell is he going to get through this one? Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe All-Might will speak up for him. Maybe instead of getting expelled, he'll be transferred to a different class. That'd be okay. That'd be–

Cold fingers close around his free hand. Izuku twitches in surprise and looks down to see his friend clutching at his hand with both of hers, staring up at him with wide, concerned eyes. She makes a soft humming noise, like the distant buzz of flies.

The shaking stops. Izuku takes a deep breath, manages a smile, and tries, as surreptitiously as he can, to give her hands a comforting squeeze.

It must have been scary for her too, if he suddenly couldn't see her.

He glances to the sidelines to find the crowd of ghosts right where they were last, watching and waiting eagerly. None of them have left.

Well. Whatever the outcome, he might as well give them something worth seeing. Izuku's fingers curl around the ball, and he remembers how he brought a spark of One For All just to his fingertip. An idea forms in his head, and it might be just crazy enough to work.

He can finish the rest of the tests with just nine fingers, can't he?

It's been so long since Nana last walked Yuuei's halls. The feeling is nostalgic, almost painfully so, and it's this and only this that makes leaving Toshi's side bearable.

Ever since the fight with All For One six years back, ever since her faithful successor came within a hair's breadth of joining her, Nana has kept as close to Toshi's side as possible. It's easy; she needs neither sleep nor food nor rest of any kind, and she has existed for long enough that patience is a trifle. Usually, straying too far from him brings a rising note of panic that can't be calmed by anything but rushing back to his side, checking and double checking that he hasn't died while her back was turned.

He seems so desperately fragile now. He's a grown man, of course, weathered and beaten by years of hero work, but no matter how much time passes, part of her will never see anything but the gawky, bright-eyed teenager he was when she first laid eyes on him.

And oh, how he has grown, and gained a student of his own into the bargain.

But for now, Yuuei feels safe. She hasn't felt this calm and at ease since the last time she set foot in her graveyard and looked upon the earth beneath which she was buried. Yuuei feels like home, and for the first time in many years, Nana feels all right about wandering away from Toshi. There's hardly any danger in him creeping down to watch Aizawa teach his first class of the year. So she drifts through the place on her own, peeking into classrooms and labs, exploring the school where she came into her own.

It's different in many ways, and in many others it hasn't changed a bit.

She loses track of time, and before she knows it, the day is over and she's ended up circling back to the nurse's office. Hopefully Toshi hasn't left yet – probably not. She can catch up fairly easily if he has. Nana turns to leave, just as the door to the nurse's office opens and shuts.

"Oh! Um, excuse me," a voice says behind her, but she's too focused to bother eavesdropping on a conversation that has nothing to do with her anyway.

Rapid footsteps follow her. "W-wait! Um, miss? Excuse me?"

A child blocks her way, and Nana would skid to a halt if her feet actually touched the ground. It's the little ghost again, the eerie dark-haired girl that follows faithfully in Midoriya Izuku's shadow. She's smiling, and it's all teeth.

"Excuse me," the now-familiar voice says once more, and Nana glances back to see what the fuss is all about–

–and meets Midoriya's eyes dead-on.

The moment she's looking at him, his face breaks out in a freckled smile. He speaks to her.

"Hello."

Nana shrieks, taking out one of the fluorescent light panels in the ceiling. Without meaning to, she ends up halfway down the hall from him in the blink of an eye. The child ghost laughs, and it sounds like static on a broken television.

"S-sorry!" Midoriya jogs to catch up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Are you okay?"

"Ebbuh," is the first thing Nana Shimura ever says to her successor's student.

His smile softens, and he checks over both shoulders before addressing her again. "I get that a lot. Sorry I didn't talk to you sooner, it's just that the past few months have been really busy and you were always really close to All-Might, so it was kind of a mix of me being tired and distracted and just never getting the chance. But I'm glad I caught you now." He holds out his hand. "It's nice to meet you! I'm Midoriya Izuku, but I uh, think you know that already. What's your name?"

Nana gapes at him for another solid fifteen seconds before she finds her voice again. "It's – um, I'm – it's Shimura. Shimura Nana. What-"

"Do you need help with anything?"

Whatever Nana was expecting him to say, that wasn't it. "I'm sorry?"

"Do you need any help?" Midoriya repeats, letting his hand drop to his side again. "It's fine either way, it's just, y'know, I usually just. Offer. I mean, do you need me to pass a message? Or find something? Or… are you good?"

"I could really use an explanation, actually," Nana says faintly. "Um. How?"

Midoriya opens his mouth to reply, then glances back at the nurse's office. "Not here. It's not safe, I don't think. Is it okay if we take this outside?"

For a moment Nana's about to say yes, absolutely, let's go outside and please explain to me literally everything, but then she remembers the time and her self-imposed duty. "You know what, hold that thought, I need to go back to – to All-Might." Damn, she thinks. Damn, damn, damn, how many times has she addressed Toshi by name in the boy's presence? "So I need to go, but later, definitely later, we will have a, a conversation. Of some sort."

"Sure thing!" Midoriya beams at her. "Maybe we can talk tomorrow, Ms. Shimura? I'll try to stay clear of the nurse's office so we have the chance. Have a good evening, then." And he trots off, pretty as you please, with a stringy-haired ghost girl drifting in his wake.

She stares after him, gobsmacked, long after he's left.

"What the shit."