Chapter Text
Everything started with an email.
The email wasn’t Izuku’s. Not officially. Not in any way that could be tracked to him, digitally or otherwise.
The email was mean. Not cruel, but definitely mean. The first paragraph read like a complaint, full of general statements of anger and outrage and disbelief in Endeavour’s right to be a hero.
The second, third, and fourth paragraphs had to be deleted before the email was ever sent. Well, the forth one was only a couple lines, but Izuku had finally caught himself explaining all the reasons why Endeavour was a shitty hero and repeatedly hit the backspace key. This was not the right medium for that.
The revised second, third, fourth paragraphs were frankly cathartic. They were straight up analysis and application of said analysis. Izuku could do that in his sleep. Had, on occasion. Not that he did this analysis while asleep. No, this analysis got one hundred percent of his focus.
Izuku started by dissecting Endeavour’s quirk. He proceeded to outline the way several other quirks would effectively combat Endeavour’s quirk. Then he went on to break down Endeavour’s fighting style, which, while admittedly effective in straight combat, was basically different manifestations of brute force and thus susceptible to several clever strategies. And some not so clever ones, to be honest.
Izuku finished by moving on to Endeavour’s position in group efforts, which were frankly abysmal. He would have left group efforts out entirely, except Izuku figured this was an excellent time to branch into Endeavour’s agency. He stopped just short of attaching a full battle plan detailing the top three ways to tear Endeavour’s agency to the ground through martial force.
Honestly, the main reason he stopped short was that Aizawa-sensei hadn’t gotten to battle-plans yet and Izuku had very little practical experience in a fight. He could spot holes and advantages better than many pros (so said Aizawa-sensei, Yamada, Nemuri, and Nezu-sensei at least, and they couldn’t all be wrong), but Izuku didn’t want his work to be sloppy.
For that same reason Izuku also got Aizawa-sensei to proofread the email.
Aizawa just grinned after reading the email, while Yamada, reading over the man’s shoulder gave a low whistle (and Izuku thought it adorable how Yamada was too busy being delighted and Aizawa was too busy being comfy to notice how very deliberate Izuku’s and his mother’s invitations to the blond man actually were).
“I see now why you were worried about the kid becoming a villain,” Yamada said.
Izuku blinked. “You were worried about me becoming a villain?”
Aizawa-sensei waved a hand, momentarily off-balancing the laptop across his legs. “More worried about the situation driving Deku to extremes, but yes.”
Izuku tilted his head. “Are you still worried?”
Yamada snorted, but Aizawa didn’t look up from where he actually was adjusting some of the grammar and wording of the email. “Only that you won’t give me enough heads up.”
Yamada and Izuku exchanged a look, marginally relieved to find the other equally confused.
“Um, Shou?” Yamada poked Aizawa in the cheek.
Aizawa sighed, but did look up. “Yes?”
“You want me to warn you if I decided to go villain?” Izuku asked. Because that sounded like a poor choice if he ever did make that decision. Not that Izuku would! Just. It would be bad planning to give one of the people with the best chances of stopping him a heads up.
Aizawa-sensei stared straight at Izuku, one eyebrow raised over deep black eyes. “Yes, Problem Child, I want at least three weeks warning. If you go villain now, I know you well enough to understand it’s either part of a Plan, under coercion, or we’re taking down Hero Society as a whole.”
He went to look down again, but stopped at Izuku’s tiny little, “We?”
“We, Problem Child. What? You think I’d let you get into that level of nonsense alone?”
The email eventually got edited, but only after a round of hugs and tears and possibly some laughing (Yamada eventually got pulled into the octopus arms, so he wasn’t laughing long).
There wasn’t an eventually after the email was sent. Endeavour’s Agency reacted immediately. Within the hour the entire building had gone on lockdown. Civilian access was restricted, public interaction was limited, and any and all heroes associated with the agency were paranoid and angry.
Which was making the public suspicious and angry.
Izuku leaned away from his laptop and took a long sip at his coffee, not even wincing at the cold bitterness that seeped over his tongue. His eyes quickly tracked back to the screen as comments kept being added to the hero forum.
He’d been doing a sweep over several forums, groups, support pages, and social media sites all morning. Endeavour and his agency were a hot topic; the changes hadn’t gone unnoticed. Some people were praising the increase in violence in his takedowns, seeing it as a crack down on trouble, but most were uncomfortable.
Taken with the increased difficulty of reporting crimes to the Agency and the increased vetting of civilians who persevered, well, things escalated. The stories popping up on all sort of hero forums didn’t help.
For example, Izuku was staring at an account of a woman who had tried to walk into the Agency and provide evidence for a case as per pre-arranged appointment, only to be told she had to stand in line for over an hour to make it though new security procedures. When she complained, she was forcibly ejected from the premises. The woman was sixty-six.
It only took Izuku a few comments and strategic re-routes here and there to spread that woman’s story, among others, more effectively. Honestly, he was barely even needed. The outcry kept worsening and the ranting kept increasing mostly on it’s own.
A plate was thunked down across from him and Izuku dragged his attention up to meet Dabi’s gaze as he plunked down at the table Izuku had commandeered in a coffee shop just barely within sight of Endeavour Agency.
“Yo, Green Bean.”
“Dabi.” Izuku smiled as he watched the older boy start tearing pieces off his muffin and slowly eating it. “Your muffin is green.”
“Sure is.” Dabi ate another chunk.
“Dabi, why is your muffin bright green?”
“It’s pistachio. Pistachio makes things green.”
Izuku felt his smile grow even as he evaded a swatting hand to take a chunk for his own. He hummed at the taste. “That’s really good.”
“Course it is. Why else would I get it?”
Izuku let the very obvious answer lie and went in a different direction entirely. “You look good.”
Because he did. Dabi still had his original long black coat, but it had been washed and patched, with a few extra pockets sewn in. Izuku couldn’t see a shirt beneath the jacket, but the pants were hole-free and tucked neatly into serviceable but new combat boots. He also wore fingerless gloves that Izuku didn’t imagine would hold up great to his quirk without some reinforcement, but covered up the edges of his scars on his wrists and palms quite nicely.
Dabi shifted in he seat. “Yeah. Hizashi and Nemuri took Toga and I out shopping. Toga loved it. Nemuri might have gone a bit wild.”
Izuku fought back a smirk, knowing that Toga loving it was probably the key factor to the entire experience. The expression fell when he took in Dabi’s fingers tapping the edge of the table and the way he wouldn’t quite look at Izuku.
“It’s not free, you know,” Izuku said quietly.
Dabi jerked his head up and Izuku leaned over the table before continuing. “I mean, I get the sense that Nemuri probably went a little overboard and might have used her own funds, but that just seems like her personality. Otherwise, UA and the Commission are funding your keep, and they expect you to work for it. Not in like a forced-work kind of way, but in a sweat your butt off to complete the program kind of way. I can show you the breakdown of the finances later, if you want.”
Dabi blinked at him, before giving a chuckle that resembled gargled gravel and running a hand through his hair. “I don’t like charity.”
“I get waiting for the other shoe to drop and the creeping terror of owing someone something somehow.” Bullies always felt they were owed something while those in power tended to keep meticulous records of everyone else’s debts. “But it’s not charity. You pay it back.”
“Zuku-“
“You pay it back by being a hero. By graduating and helping people in turn.”
Dabi looked at Izuku, then over to the three empty coffee cups and lowly whining computer. He reached out and ran a hand through Izuku’s curls, the glove pulling roughly but still letting warmth sink into Izuku scalp.
“Okay, Green Bean. Okay.”
Izuku beamed, and Dabi shook his head while retracting his hand. “So I heard a rumour that Endeavour Agency has had a rough week. Something about a recent threat, I believe the the press conference said?”
Izuku snorted and turned back to his computer, flicking over to another site to see if anyone had managed to calm the thread down.
“You can’t believe everything you hear. Besides, I heard that it wasn’t a threat at all. A list of deficiencies is simply a list if no plan of action is included or follow up stated. And a list isn’t legally a threat.”
Maybe, maybe the insinuations that this list could be sent to others was a threat, but that insinuation was really only made by the lists existence in the first place. And the conclusion that Endeavour and his agency had made about the reasons such a list was created at all. It certainly wouldn’t make much sense for a list of weaknesses to be sent to owner of said weaknesses without plans for follow through.
Unless the sender wanted to sow some chaos, cause a distraction, and install the kind of paranoia that led to mistakes. Or was an independent consultant that routinely tried to help heroes improve. But really, how likely were either of those options?
A taunt and an incoming attack were surely much more plausible.
“Right. Those computer lessons treating you well, then?” Dabi asked as he eyed the laptop as one might a venomous snake.
Izuku smiled, fully knowing that there was likely a bit of Nezu bleeding into the edges of a grin he’d stolen from Aizawa-sensei. “Oh very much so.”
While Izuku was still very much a baby hacker primarily dabbling on public sites that had minimal security, his Grand-sensei believed in education through example. Izuku had gotten a very thorough explanation on how the email would be untraceable, and how Nezu had ensured that no computer or account would be spared in the efforts for everyone associated with Endeavour Agency to receive the email.
“Glad you’re having fun.” Dabi had finished his muffin.
Izuku stared at the return of the tapping fingers of his friend.
“Are you ready for Phase Two?” Izuku asked, voice as soft as whispers written on paper.
“Nope.” Dabi stood up, chair legs screeching across the floor. “Let’s go anyways.”
Izuku quickly packed up his back and brought his stack of cups to the front before following Dabi as he swept out the door.
The computer bag thumped into his side with each step away from the agency. It only took about ten steps for Dabi’s arm to brush Izuku’s three times, so Izuku linked their elbows and hung off Dabi much like Toga might.
The older teen glared at him, but the heat was all in his arm which left none for his gaze. Izuku cozied up, warmth seeping into still fingers.
He was ready (he was happy).
Everything escalated with a present. Well, several presents. Several presents to several different people. Because why mess with something that worked?
They started with flowers for Rei. All sorts of different flowers. The flowers didn’t mean anything, exactly, though Dabi had gone a little red in the face when he mumbled something about picking wildflowers and destroying the occasional garden in his younger efforts to make his mom smile.
The notes were tucked in the colourful vases, sealed in waterproof bags pressed tight to the edges. It had only taken three exchanges for Dabi to take the place of Izuku as the flower delivery service.
Shouta knew that more flowers had been sent to the Todoroki residence, but Yamada and Inko had overseen that particular operation. Apparently, there had been a meeting held in one of the smaller conference rooms at the library that contained tears, thrown flowers, and some very clingy younger siblings.
The rest of the presents were left to Shouta, Izuku, and Yagi. They were all being sent Deku-style. Not completely Deku-style, as there were no fancily coloured wrapping paper or gift boxes, but that was deliberate. Shouta didn’t want this connected to Deku or Izuku, not yet. Not this soon.
Instead, there were plain boxes with appropriate labels. They would look at home in any agency evidence or mail room. Which was the point. Shouta, Izuku, and Yagi had chosen their targets carefully, had chosen agencies and heroes that were good and solid and in the business for the right reasons. Still, it was one thing to open a box for evidence on a crime, and another to open a box for evidence on the Number Two Hero’s crimes.
And there were a lot of crimes. Even ignoring the child-abuse and neglect side of things, which Shouta had no intention of doing, there were a lot of crimes. Excessive force and negligence were the most frequent. Nezu had called Shouta to come grab Izuku for a break after a lesson on data-aggregation where they’d spent the day mapping and charting the physical and structural damages of Endeavour’s fights (the break involved ice cream, the lesson after the ice cream involved fitting those maps and charts into the Outrage the Public Using Social Media Phase).
The heroes got summaries of cases they’d been on (or been running), only to have Endeavour sweep in an take care of things. The heroes got testimonies of former villains (the kids, the poor, the ones from Izuku’s notebooks) that were written from prison, or hospitals, or long-term care. The heroes got recordings (obtained in mysterious and not at all dubious ways) of Endeavour Agency admitting to seeing a fault in a building yet charging in always.
Yagi was invaluable for the Hero Presents Phase, as much as Shouta would never admit it.
Not so much on the target-chasing side of things; the full depth of Endeavour’s cruelty had shaken the man more than Shouta expected. The suggestions Yagi put forth were few but solid, and even included several retired heroes with more influence than Shouta would have guessed.
Yagi had turned in his paper of potential names to Shouta when Izuku was asleep leaning against Shotua’s knee, the papers resting on the kid’s stomach rising and falling with each of the kid’s breaths.
“It’s not much, I know,” Yagi had said with bruised eyes and the slightest tremble to skeletal hands. “But I’m certain of them on a personal level. They won’t let Endeavour’s name slow them down.”
There had been two things Shouta could have said to that. He went with, “Personal level?”
The bruises shifted as Yagi met Shouta’s eye, and though there was no steam or increased musculature, Shouta felt the weight of the Number One Hero pressing down on them. “I never liked Endeavour. Not from he start. He was too loud, too angry, too competitive. I never felt he wanted to be a hero for the right reasons.”
Yagi gave a shrug of sharp shoulder blades and sharper expectations. Shouta had never wanted to see the Number One Hero move with the thin angles of a scarecrow on puppet strings.
“I am, however,” Yagi continued, “smart enough to know that not all heroes are like me, that not all heroes have the same reasons. I trusted him, Eraserhead, as a professional hero. Endeavour was my colleague and I trusted him even as I didn’t like him. This is not an excuse, as I seem to be saying far too often lately, but the kind of cruelty Endeavour practices, with it’s creeping edges and public face, is the kind I’m least equipped to handle.”
Yagi shook his head, long hair falling in front of his face, before turning to look at Izuku. Yagi sighed so deep he rattled. “I should have noticed. I should have looked deeper. I would have tried to stop him, if I’d seen.”
Shouta believed him. Shouta had always hated the Number One Hero and the Symbol of Peace. Had always seen the many ways that could come crashing down in a resounding fall of pride and vulnerability. But.
All Might was a good hero, for all his faults. A hero with integrity. A hero with expectations and a role and a place.
Shouta sighed, in turn, hand ghosting up to rest on Izuku’s curls.
“You would have failed.”
Yagi blinked slowly before raising his head to once again meet Shouta’s eyes. “Yes. I would have.”
He would have. All Might, for all his sidekicks and Agency workers and team-ups, worked alone.
Which was fucking hard, Shouta knew from experience.
It wasn’t an apology. It wasn’t an apology and Shouta wasn’t any more inclined to leave Izuku and Yagi alone for long periods of time.
Shouta was smart enough, with the new evidence of the last few weeks, to re-evaluate. To admit he hadn’t seen the man behind the hero, hadn’t necessarily expected the man behind the hero to understand his own limitations, to have knowingly cast himself into the role, fully understanding not only the weight he’d have to bear, but also the cracks he’d likely never fully see.
Shouta still didn’t like the Number One Hero, but he could probably like Yagi, if the man continued to acknowledge his faults and didn’t put his head back up his ass.
He could also trust Yagi (again, not with Izuku, that would be earned, monitored, and granted only by unanimous vote consisting of him, Inko, and Tsukauchi), if the last few weeks were anything to go by. Yagi was taking to the Plan with a viscous intelligence and cheerful mischief.
The former probably shouldn’t surprise Shouta; you don’t survive as the Number One Hero by brawn alone. The latter probably shouldn’t please Shouta as much as it did. Hizashi had tried to leave the room once when he’d walked in only to find Shouta grinning, Izuku cackling, and Yagi smiling serenely. Tsukauchi had shoved Hizashi back in with a sharp push to the shoulder blades, muttering something about not being left alone.
Yagi also had a memory tighter than any prison Shouta had ever visited. He might not want to state his opinion about other heroes, but Yagi was happy to rattle off the complete story of their various take downs and interactions at hero functions. Which was honestly quite helpful, when Izuku and Shouta were on the fence about someone or facing the wall created by Shouta’s complete lack of interest in hero politics.
There was also the strategic advantage. Presents had to be delivered. While Izuku’s Network (and honestly, what the fuck, the kid’s Network was large and functional and Shouta was so proud of the brat) was really quite useful, they also had to bring in some heroes with higher clearance or access levels. Since they were avoiding Deku’s usual habit of trees and the like.
Shouta was happy to use his Underground Coalition. Really, the people he worked with weren’t actually surprised to be handed a box, told not to open it, and leave it without being noticed. Ms. Joke hadn’t even laughed at him, just asked if it was training or a mission.
Izuku had a couple of contacts as Deku, too. A young hero named Bubble Girl was particularly eager after learning they were trying to take down a corrupt hero. Apparently she’d had some bad experiences, and Izuku seemed quite happy to have another friend to text.
Yagi as All Might had visited a truly excessive number of agencies. The memory thing came into particular advantage, here. He’d once overheard Izuku and Shouta debating on bringing in Nezu for getting into Best Jeanists’s agency, since they man had truly great security.
With extreme casualness, Yagi had borrowed one of Izuku’s notebooks, sketched out a remarkably complete floor plan in less than ten minutes, and added the regular meal times for the main players and service staff. At the bemused stares of his new allies, Yagi had just shrugged. “I like to be prepared.”
At least forty percent of their presents had been delivered by Yagi, too, since the man had a built-in disguise and enjoyed walking into other places completely unrecognized with the great glee of a repressed shit-disturber.
So Shouta was maybe starting to like the man. Which was annoying, but manageable. Yagi was still afraid enough of Shouta that Shouta figured it wouldn’t even be hard to pressure the man into some child development classes. Maybe some teaching courses. (Whatever would make Shouta more inclined to leave the hero alone with Shouta’s kids.)
On the day that divorce and custody papers were sent off as the first physical present for Endeavour, Shouta came home (to Izuku’s home, not Shouta’s, no matter the fact that Izuku and Yamada had cat-napped Shouta’s two cats weeks ago) to the entire younger generation of Todoroki’s sitting around the table.
Inko was with Rei and the lawyers, the two having bonded almost instantly. They and Nezu were ensuring that the kids didn’t have to go back to Endeavour at all, helped by the fact that only Todoroki Shouto was young enough to need a legal guardian. Between the recently released Rei (and her extensive mental and physical health plan), two older siblings absolutely willing to look after their brother, and Nezu wearing his Principal of UA hat, Shouta wasn’t worried about the part of the plan’s success.
The kids however? Worried.
That worry seemed to currently be buried under a surprisingly amount of respect and bemused or vicious glee, depending on the person.
All four of the Todorokis, Toga, and Izuku, were watching the TV with great focus. Were watching Endeavour blow the fuck up, in particular. He hadn’t even gotten wind of the custody cases, Shouta didn’t think. No, he was ranting and raving on National TV about the other heroes stealing his cases. Which even the reporters normally on his side for press conferences seemed to have some trouble believing. Weren’t heroes supposed to work together to protect people, after all?
Todoroki Natsuo, head tilted and one hand clenched in Dabi’s sleeve, looked up at Shouta. “You stole his cases?”
“We stole his cases.” Shouta agreed. That had been Part Two of the Hero Present Phase. First give the other heroes evidence that Endeavor was crooked so they’d either investigate, refuse to to take his side, or publicly dismiss him, then give them evidence to wrap up Endeavour’s case and make the man mad. Mad men made mistakes, and Endeavour had a temper.
“Solved a bunch, too. It wasn’t even hard,” Izuku added.
Todoroki Fuyumi rubbed one of her arms absently. “He’s so upset. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this publicly angry.”
“Well,” Izuku stated, rounding out his words, “We’ve been pushing him to the edge for a while. His agency is still expecting an attack and the other agencies are down right hostile due to all that malpractice evidence we’ve been shoving down their throats. And public opinion has been taking a dive so steep that he’s feeling it in the merchandise and financial quarters. Now we’ve attacked him at what matters to him most; his competency, otherwise known as his arrogant pride in his own ability to be a hero. He needs someone to blame, and the other agencies are prime targets. They won’t be for long, but he’s still got some time to completely alienate them.”
All eyes were on Izuku, who only smiled blithely back. “We have some time before the personal side of things comes out with the divorce and custody matters, which is also when All Might gets to publicly denounce Endeavour as a hero entirely. Any last requests?”
Todoroki Shouto looked up from his hot chocolate, fingers flexing around the mug. His voice was slightly hoarse, as if this was his first time speaking in a while. “He doesn’t like water.”
Izuku titled his head and let out a low hum. Shouta did the same, before grinning.
“I got this one, Zuku.” He ran his hand through Izuku’s curls and grabbed a handful of cookies from the plate because they were Inko’s and thus delicious and he wasn’t going to be sitting down for a while.
He then pulled out his phone and called Nemuri. While the phone rang he gestured to a sharply grinning Toga. “Come on, Tiny Terror, you’re going to like this.”
Shouta couldn’t be completely upstaged by his own student, after all.
Shouta returned later that afternoon with a smug smile on his face and an official UA packet under one arm. A present, he might be willing to call it, though only because of his good mood.
The news was still on as he stepped into the apartment, though a moments attention had him realizing it was a recording put on loop.
The loop started much where the show from the morning had; with Endeavour ranting. Except he wasn’t ranting at the screen, he was ranting under his breath at his sidekick as the two ran down the street, and the video camera just happened to have a very good microphone (Izuku had been happy to introduce some of his Network to Shouta, who’d been just as happy to outfit them with some real equipment and a paid Criminal Informant gig).
A bare minute in and the camera shifted to show a newbie hero, Mount Lady, and Midnight patrolling across the road (Mount Lady had been happy to have Midnight tag along for the chance to ask the older woman some questions and the possibility to punch Endeavour in the face).
A minute after that, and the screen caught the blurry image of a young woman in a hoodie, jumping over a bench a running in and out of frame (Toga had been happy to play bait, even before Shouta promised to be on the rooftops and ready to cancel the fuck out of Endeavour’s quirk if anything went even the lightest bit wrong).
Toga ducked behind the two female heroes, hands grasping the back of Midnight’s uniform even as Mount Lady gave a visible jump. Mount Lady pulled herself together very quickly, however, particularly when Endeavour and his sidekick raced up and halted less than a foot away from their faces.
The two women refused to hand over the concealed Toga to a emphatically gesturing Endeavour, which was completely fair because Toga actually hadn’t done anything besides run past Endeavour at full speed while cackling maniacally. Endeavour’s paranoia, shitty personality, and rough few weeks had done the rest.
Then Endeavour made a critical mistake; he called all female heroes soft-hearted, insulted their ability to be level-headed, and disparaged their combat-readiness. He followed up his words by bullying his way past Midnight and Mount Lady to reach for Toga.
Toga, in a move that surprised no one who knew her, stabbed him in the arm in what Shouta would swear as a witness was a perfect example of fear-induced self-defence. Midnight, in a move that surprised no one who knew her, punched him in the nose so hard he stumbled a good few feet back. This wouldn’t have been a problem, exactly, except Mount Lady had stuck out a rather large foot, obviously because she was off balance from Endeavour’s shove, and the Number Two Hero had fallen backwards.
Had fallen backwards and down a short but steep slope into the river. While his female sidekick made a very slow motion to try and save him, before shrugging and saying ‘oops’ loud enough for the camera to pick up over Endeavour’s yells.
The footage was then sent to every media centre in the city, and several beyond the city’s borders. Toga was bought an ice cream cone for her trauma. The female sidekick had an interview at both Midnight’s and Mount Lady’s agencies scheduled for the next day.
Izuku was grinning wildly at Shouta as the footage began to loop again and Shouta absently wondered when a teenager being proud of him was Shouta’s greatest marker of success.
Todoroki Shouto looked a little more awed than proud, though the expression quickly shifted to confusion when Shouta dropped the UA packet-present on the kid’s lap.
“Here. I picked up your acceptance to UA when I dropped Midnight off at UA. You’re in 1A, which is my homeroom: you’re officially mine, now.”
“And we look after our own!” Izuku crowed. He then sat up perfectly straight. “Wait. 1A? You’re in my class! We’ll be together! I’ve never had a friend in my class before!”
He turned to look at the youngest Todoroki, who was blank faced and clutching the still-wrapped acceptance with white-knuckled fingers.
“I mean, if you want to be? Not to presume we’re friends, or-“ He was cut off when a scarred hand was lowered over his face.
“Calm down Green Bean.” Dabi patted Izuku’s cheek as he spoke. “Stop panicking and let baby bro deal with his own panic. Kid’s not used to the idea of friends yet.”
Izuku turned wide and watering eyes up to Dabi and Shouta could have laughed at the the growing fear on Dabi’s own face; the teen was weak to tears. Izuku’s in particular.
“I didn’t mean to make him panic!”
Dabi opened his mouth, but was cut off by Todoroki’s quiet voice. “I would like to be friends. I’m not sure how, though.”
Izuku beamed. “That’s okay! Dabi and Toga are my first healthy friendships! We can figure it out together.”
Dabi laughed at his brother’s slow nod. “See? It’s happy panic. Just don’t take your friendship cues from Mr. Grumpy over there.”
Shouta contemplated flipping the teen off, but figured he was the adult and that was beneath him. At least as long as his students were in the room, which actually included Dabi since Shouta was slated to give his second year ethics class to 1R first year as part of their alternative education. Damnit.
Shouta decided to just ignore the older teen and continued his path across the room to retrieve his sleeping bag from under the Midoriya’s couch. “Stashing sleeping bags at your friend’s place is perfectly acceptable behaviour.”
Izuku gasped, hand pressed to his heart in a very dramatic motion. “Friends, Aizawa-sensei? I thought we were family?”
Shouta was torn. On the one hand, Izuku had just called him family, which maybe warmed Shouta’s bones like someone had swapped his marrow for coffee. On the other hand, Izuku was only showing the slightest vulnerability and it was almost completely overshadowed by the contented mischief that shone out of deliberately wide eyes.
Sleeping bag pooling out of his arms, Shouta glared at his intern. “You’re being a manipulative little gremlin. I know you learned those eyes from Hizashi, don’t think I don’t. I will not cave.”
Shouta caved.
Shouta woke up several hours later, sprawled on top of the couch in a darkened room with the TV playing the end credits to an All Might movie. There was a cat on his stomach and he could hear the soft voices of Dabi and his brother from where they sat at the floor by the other end of the couch over the quiet music. Dabi’s arm was raised along the seat of the couch so he could drape it along his brother’s shoulders, which also tucked Dabi’s arm against Shouta’s shin in a warm line.
Izuku was tucked against the arm of the couch, deeply asleep with one hand still in Shouta’s hair, a warm presence in the many tiny braids the hero could feel tugging gently at his scalp.
Shouta closed his eyes and buried his face into one of the blankets Inko had draped over them all.
Yeah. It was a happy panic.
Everything ended with an essay.
Izuku was very proud of his essay. So was Aizawa. Nezu had rarely seen Aizawa so proud of anything.
Aizawa had read it once, read most of it aloud to Nezu even though Nezu had been emailed in his own copy, and then retrieved his phone so he could send copies to Hizashi and Nemuri. It had taken very little prompting to get Shouta to take a night off in order to bring his intern out for dinner, dessert, and a tour of the best hidden support item workshops in the city.
Nezu was also proud of Izuku’s essay. The words were beautifully crafted and the arguments backed up and cited and presented neatly in attached appendices of graphs, statistics, and commentary.
The public had latched onto the essay with the desperation of people who’d been wronged and betrayed. They shared and commented and tossed parts of the essay back and forth, working each other into a fervour of anger and angst and justice.
The media had focused on the essay with the greed of people trying to monetize a crashing train or sinking ship. They knew Endeavour was going down and wanted to take their pieces as he went. The essay was a summary, a starting point, a treat large enough that there were enough angles to go around.
The hero community had flitted about the essay with the discomfort of people who’d been poisoned and tainted. Endeavour had been one of their own, and while many were happy to have concrete reasons to hold against a hero they’d already disliked, many more hadn’t seen it coming at all. The smart heroes, the cautious ones, also turned a eye towards evaluating their own operations.
Izuku hadn’t seen that last particular result coming, Nezu was sure, though Shouta had. It was more a function of self-esteem that Izuku didn’t quite see that his work would impact the rest of the heroes, that there would be a wide-scale clean up process. Sure, some of the process would include attempts at burying evidence of wrong-doing, but that could be monitored.
And the results of the Essay and Summary Phase were Izuku’s work. Nezu and Shouta had provided some extra resources, checked some calculations, passed along a few observations. The essay, though, Deku’s essay, had been the boy’s own analysis collated his own way.
Nezu and Shouta had both insisted that Izuku sign the essay as Deku, as the consultant who already had a name in the hero community. They told him it would lend credibility, which it would. They didn’t tell him it would build his credibility, which it absolutely would.
Shouta and Nezu agreed that Izuku needed a name and a reputation and that the kid had already set the blocks up for that beautifully, even if Izuku didn’t quite see that part of the picture with the correct scope. Even if Izuku was having a hard time making the mental jump from being perceived as a consultant to that of a hero.
Consulting was the start. Interning was the jumping point. 1R was the base. Endeavour was the point of no return.
These were Izuku’s accomplishments. Things that the boy deserved to take credit for creating. Things that Nezu, Shouta, Hizashi, Nemuri, Tsukauchi, Ectoplasm, Hound Dog, and many others could, when the time was right, point out with pride and say look what work this hero has already done.
And it was his work, for all that he had help (was learning to ask for help).
Izuku had been clear about how he wanted this most recent accomplishment to go. Clear about wanting every bit of evidence to be true and real. There had been acres of un-fellable forests in his eyes when Izuku had told Nezu that this take down would be honest, that he wanted to learn the tricks and manipulations that might one day be needed to take down a villain or another corrupt hero, but this one had left them enough that it would be a shame to be anything else.
Nezu hadn’t even offered those lessons, yet. Shouta had picked very well indeed.
Nezu complied with the boy’s wished easily, definitely plotting those lessons for a later date, but happy to let his Grand-student lead this attack. Nezu’s own folder on Endeavour hadn’t been nearly as comprehensive as it should have been, regardless, considering Endeavour had been one of his students, once upon a time.
Nezu understood, as very few could, that he couldn’t control everything, that there were always failures, but that didn’t make them less aggravating. His new Grand-student was a balm, though, a balm of cleverness, intelligence, and warm tea.
And excellent timing.
Shouta was aware of Nezu’s plans for the Commission, for weeding out the corrupt and the lazy there, but perhaps it was time fill the man in with greater detail. Endeavour’s fall and 1R provided several unforeseen opportunities in the grand schemed of things, after all.
Izuku wasn’t quite ready for that level of political danger and Nezu wouldn’t take the choice of whether to bring the boy into the Commission situation away from Shouta, but there were still elements where either of their contribution would be welcome.
All Might might be a good starting place. The extent of that man’s current involvement was quite the surprise to Nezu and one that boded well for the coming year, particularly considering the search for All Might’s successor and the hero coming to teach at UA. Maybe Nezu could get Yagi to shadow Shouta a bit. Surely that wouldn’t end in bloodshed if they were already used to working together?
Izuku would surely keep them both in line.
Nezu looked over to where Aizawa and Izuku were crashed out on the couch of his office. The purple, soft couch that still looked like new because almost no one ever dared to sit on it.
They were playing chess on Nezu’s board, keeping Nezu company as he waited for the call from the Commission stating that Endeavour had been removed from Japan’s hero line up, and might Nezu want to comment or record an official statement of support on behalf of UA? Or the one from the police stating that Endeavour was facing official charges, and might Nezu have any information to offer or possibly want to consult?
Nezu paused in his paperwork at the sound of Shouta’s soft laugh. That was a sound Nezu heard rarely. A sound he’d once wondered if he would ever hear, when a scraggly, bitter teen was sitting in his office after waging a remarkably effective war of attrition against half of the hero class in his year with nothing but a handful of untraceable pranks and in-class exercises.
Of course, Nezu could have proven the culprit, but he was rather more impressed with the results of that war. He might have thought the results an accidental result, as most of Nezu’s colleagues at the time had believed, except Nezu had seen Aizawa’s expression.
Nezu had watched, unfortunately through a camera lens, the barest flicker of rage when classmates had called Aizawa a villain for his quirk and Yamada a liability. Nezu had watched, closely and in person, the faintest trace of satisfaction when Aizawa sat through the class lecture on quirkism, discrimination, and UA’s zero-tolerance policy.
Nezu had take the quirkiest behaviour revealed in his own school rather seriously. A factor that the teenaged Shouta has absolutely predicted and utilized, since the evidence had been carefully left for Nezu himself, instead of being submitted though the usual procedures. Considering the several of the expulsions had been higher level students part of said reporting procedure and at least three staff members had also been terminated, Nezu thought this a sound precaution. He’d clearly been too focused on outside plans and needed to refocus inward.
It had taken weeks for the young Shouta to realize (or maybe simply to trust) that he wasn’t in trouble. It had taken months for Shouta to grin, fanged and bright in Nezu’s presence. It had taken years (as well as a graduation certificate and a demand for weekly teas) for Shouta to laugh, free, and gleeful, and maybe just a bit cynical.
And now Shouta had a student of his own. One of many, technically, but the only one to trust and smile and laugh with, most certainly.
Phase sixty-seven of Plan: Student was turning out quite nicely, all told (and perhaps it was something Nezu shouldn’t ignore, that both his student and his Grand-student had appeared just in time to bring light to something Nezu had missed).
Nezu placed his pen down as the phone rang. He smiled with sharp teeth and lingering eyes and neither of his humans flinched. Nezu smiled with creeping whiskers and soft paws and both his humans smiled back.
Nezu smiled as he answered the phone and was told that Endeavour had fallen, and hadn’t Nezu been working on a reform class because that sounded like the most wonderful, wholesome idea to present to the media and the public.
Nezu smiled because he did so love it when plans came together, particularly plans made with those with whom he could trust and smile and laugh.
Nezu smiled because he was happy.
(There were more plans to make).