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Spider-Man, Captain Britain, and all associated characters, are property of Marvel. My Hero Academia and all related characters are property of Kohei Horikoshi
/+/+/+/+/
“Midoriya, a moment?”
Izuku paused at the door, looking over his shoulder and finding Ms. Kayama’s kind stare. Izuku waved his friends along as he reentered the room.
“Yes, Ms. Kayama?” He couldn’t imagine why she wanted to talk with him. He’d been doing fairly well in her class—not as good as in Literature or English, but decent (Mineta, had them all beat, though, and whether or not that was a shock depended on who you asked).
She sent him a kind smile—whatever was going on, he was glad she opting for something more subtle than her usual charm. “I hear you’ve already accepted an internship.” And at once, Izuku’s mood dropped. He should have known. Mr. Aizawa had sent him an odd look the other day when Izuku dropped off his internship form. At first, he thought it was because of how fast he did—it had been day of the announcement, after all (he hadn’t even spared the other thousand or so applications a glance). But, as he read the form, his homeroom teacher’s eyes narrowed, and he asked Izuku if he was sure that he wanted to intern under Gran Torino. Izuku had just said yes.
But then his homeroom teacher had asked again the next day, in the morning when he arrived, after each class, and the afternoon when he left. And the next. He finally stopped on the third day, and Izuku deluded himself into thinking that was that.
Evidently, he was wrong.
He cleared his throat, “Yes ma’am.”
His teacher’s brow twitched, and she said, “Don’t you think you’re going a little fast? You’re young! You can take things a bit slow, you know?”
Izuku plastered his best smile on his face. Actually, he couldn’t take it slow. As close to death itself was lurking in the shadows, waiting for a chance to strike. Toshinori was too busy scrambling in the face of his (unjustly) tarnished reputation to train him, so Izuku needed the next best thing; the man who trained Toshinori.
On the one hand, he appreciated the concern. Gran was fairly old, and semi-retired. Certainly, there were younger Heroes to intern with. On the other…Izuku had already been living under the man’s roof and training since last weekend. The internship was admittedly redundant, but it was mandatory, and he felt that having an official record of where he was going to be was reasonably cautious.
In any case, he appreciated the concern, but wouldn’t be swayed. Smile thinning a touch, he bowed his head. “I appreciate the concern, ma’am,” he could hear her grind her teeth at the word, “but I know what I’m doing.” He excused himself, quickly exiting the room and heading for the cafeteria.
Thanks to being a little late, he was able to avoid the rush to get to Lunch Rush and sat down at his usual table. Even now, he couldn’t help but feel giddy at the sight of Iida and Uraraka waving him down to sit next to them (he half-expected Todoroki, who semi-regularly sat with them, but the other young man was sitting by himself, writing furiously into a notebook). Most days, others would come and sit with them too. Today, it looked like Mineta and Asu—Tsuyu—came over. Although Izuku wasn’t sure he liked the frustrated look on the shorter student’s face.
“What took you, Midoriya?” Mineta asked as he sat down. He made a clawing gesture with his hands, face twisted with envy. “Did you get a look at the Promised Land, is that it? What makes you so—guh!” he was cut off when Tsuyu stomped on his foot.
“Some of us are trying to eat,” she deadpanned. She did, however, look over at Izuku, “Though I’ll admit to being curious too.”
“Indeed!” Iida cried, adjusting his glasses. “Is everything well, Midoriya? Are you having difficulty in her class? Do you need assistance in developing a more effective study plan? If there is anything that I can do to assist you, please, do not hesitate to say so!”
“Take a breath, Iida,” Uraraka giggled. Iida faltered, stammering for a second.
“So, what did Ms. Midnight call you in for,” Tsuyu asked.
Izuku gulped, pulling at his collar, “O-Oh, well it was about my…internship.” Now, his friends all focused on him.
“Ah, that.” Tsuyu nodded.
Uraraka shrugged, “You did turn it in super quick.”
“Not to mention who you’re interning under,” Iida added, lips curled into a pensive frown.
Izuku rolled his eyes, starting to eat. In hindsight, maybe he should have just dropped off his internship form at the last second, too late for anyone to say anything about it.
“Yeah,” Mineta tilted his head, “I thought Gran Torino had retired.”
“Semi-retired,” Izuku corrected for what must have been the hundredth time in less than a week. “He still consults on the occasional case, and devises and revises professional obstacle courses.”
“Sure,” Mineta agreed, “but…does that translate to a decent mentor? Nothing against the guy—he put in a lot of work against the Yakuza in his heyday—but he’s not the best out there right now, right?”
Tsuyu huffed, “Could ask the same thing about Mt. Lady.”
“Well at least she’s young and in great form.” Mineta’s lips split into a lecherous smirk, “Great, supple, curvac—OW!” He exclaimed when Tsuyu stomped on his foot once more. “You’re mean!”
“And you’re a lech,” Tsuyu replied, not looking up from her meal.
Izuku tuned the pair out, turning to Uraraka and Iida. Uraraka just smiled wanly at him—he smiled back. But Iida still wore a pensive frown.
Izuku gulped, having an idea what was on his friend’s mind “Is everything okay? With your brother?” he asked.
Only for Iida to surprise him, saying, “It’s not that—though he’s doing well, thank you for asking.” He cleared his throat, “I must admit, Midoriya, I was…concerned when you announced that you would intern under Gran Torino so quickly. There’s hardly any information on his career aside that he was instrumental in the downfall of the Yakuza.” Iida paused. “…And he’s so old.”
“Awful prejudice of you, Iida,” Tsuyu said without looking up from her meal. Iida blushed, but didn’t let that distract him.
He said, “Thus, I tried to research him in order to, ashamed as I am to admit it, convince you to pick someone else.” Izuku frowned but understood that Iida genuinely wanted to help Izuku. “But I couldn’t find anything, no matter where I looked.”
“Makes sense,” Mineta nodded, “not a lot of Pros that worked against the Yakuza have a lot of information about them available to the public.”
“But you did find something, though,” Uraraka said, “otherwise you wouldn’t bring it up.”
Iida nodded, “Yes. So, when traditional methods didn’t work, I decided to ask my grandfather if he’d ever worked alongside Gran Torino.” Iida’s lips curled into a bemused smile, “And he…had.”
Now, Izuku was actually curious. Gran didn’t like to speak about his past career as a Pro-Hero, beyond the times he trained Toshinori.
“Well?” Mineta leaned forward, “Don’t keep us waiting.”
Iida nodded. “Now, grandfather admitted that they didn’t really spend all that much time together. But still, Gran Torino made a remarkable impression on him. Namely, in how he acted against the Yakuza.”
“How do you mean?” Tsuyu asked.
“Well, most people would fight against the Yakuza for three main reasons—glory, revenge, and a true sense of altruism.” Iida clasped his hands atop the table, “But, according to my grandfather, Gran Torino treated the whole business as…a chore more than anything else.”
“He treated the Yakuza…as a chore?” Uraraka repeated.
“It confused me as well,” Iida commiserated, “Grandfather clarified that it wasn’t as though he was so strong as to not need to try—he truly gave it his all, and grandfather confided that most of the handful of times they worked together ended up with him having to carry Gran Torino to a hospital. But he wouldn’t bask in his victories, or stew on his failures. He’d just move on to his next mission—as though he had eyes on a much greater prize.” Izuku nodded—that was more true than anyone could ever know.
“That’s all well and good,” Tsuyu cut in, “but what’s your main point, Iida?”
Their friend blushed, “Well, I merely want to say that I was allowing prejudice to color my views, and discarding that, I should trust your judgement. You would not have accepted an internship under him unless you were sure.”
Izuku smiled, “Thanks, Iida.”
“It’s weird to think about, though,” Uraraka said. “Treating the Yakuza like nothing special.”
“Not really,” Tsuyu replied. “It’s arguably the best way you could go about fighting them. A big part of the intimidation surrounding the Yakuza is their history. Strip that away, and they’re just another gang—albeit a very well-funded one”
“Wonder if he taught All Might that when they worked together,” Mineta said absent-mindedly. Izuku and the others stared at him, which he took as confusion. “Oh, you don’t know? Well back when All Might first appeared he and Gran Torino worked…together…” he trailed off, eyes going wide upon realizing that all conversation in the cafeteria had stopped the second the words ‘All Might’, left his lips. “…Whoops.”
Izuku sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was…fine. Give it a minute and things would get back to normal.
“Well, well, what’s this?”
Never mind.
Izuku didn’t have to turn around to know that Monoma Neito was walking up to him. The 1-B student held an irrational hatred for Izuku’s class, but ever since the Sports Festival, focused a lot of his ire at Izuku for, as he put it, ‘forcing the spotlight on 1-A alone’.
Izuku wouldn’t lie; it felt weird to be singled out for being exceptional.
“Talking about All Might again?” Monoma mocked. Izuku, having a lot of experience this sort of thing, just ignored him. But unlike the bullies of Aldera, who lost interest when Izuku didn’t engage, Monoma grew bolder.
“Oh? Can’t speak? Too tired kissing the ground All Might walks on?”
“Enough, Monoma!” Kendo Itsuka, class 1-B’s student representative, shouted from across the room.
“Ineed!” Iida exclaimed, face set into a stern frown. “Your infantile displays are unbefitting of a prospective Hero!”
But Monoma, teeth sunk into his target, didn’t let up. “Honestly, it’s pathetic. Such talent, wasted with a deficient mind.” Izuku continued ignoring the other boy—though he was privately pleased to see the irritated and offended looks on his friends’ faces.
“Why,” Monoma affected a melancholic tone, “it’s just so sad to think about. This kind of madness, it’s often found in families.”
Oh…Oh would he really…?
“Monoma!” Kendo shouted, hands slamming on a table.
“Stop this, now!” Someone else—another girl, maybe—shouted. Even Iida rose, face slowly twisting into a sneer.
“Why, just think of your poor parents! Your father, your mo—” Whatever else Monoma had to say was drowned out by the thunder roaring in Izuku’s ears. He shot out of his seat like a bullet, darting forward and grabbing Monoma by his tie, shoving him back a few feet.
No one badmouthed his mother. Not even Kacchan at his worst.
Monoma’s eyes were wide, face pale. But he wasn’t looking at Izuku. He was looking past him.
Izuku’s rage faded as he looked over his shoulder, and it died in the face of what he saw.
The bench had been destroyed; table shoved back several feet. Uraraka and Tsuyu had jumped away from it, but Iida had been caught on the table’s edge, and Mineta had managed to get stuck underneath it.
But those were all secondary to the shock and alarm in his friends’ faces—on the faces of everyone around them, actually.
He dropped Monoma, flinching at the dozens of strands of emerald electricity arcing up and down his body. He deactivated his Quirk just as Lunch Rush strode up to them.
/+/+/+/+/
Izuku was silent the entire time Lunch Rush escorted him and Monoma through the building (the blonde, out of fear of either Lunch Rush or Izuku, kept quiet). When they arrived at the Teacher’s Lounge, he expected to be turned over to the heavy, tired glare of Mr. Aizawa.
But only Monoma was directed into the room. Izuku, instead, was brought to Principal Nezu’s office.
He’d much rather prefer to face Aizawa.
But Lunch Rush just ushered him into the room, closing it as he left.
Principal Nezu was sitting at his desk, sipping tea with a calm smile on his face. He gestured to the seat across his desk, “Please, sit.” Izuku hurriedly did so, keeping his head down. The quirked animal chuckled, “No need to be so stiff!”
Izuku gulped, “W-Well, Sir, I expected to meet with Mr. Aizawa.”
The Principal shrugged, “If you were in class, certainly. But,” he chortled, “you were in lunch, which is a rather nebulous domain where I can pluck students as I see fit.” Izuku wasn’t sure he liked how wide the chimera’s smile was. “But enough about me. How are you doing?”
He let out a strangled chuckle, “I, uh, broke a lunch table, Sir.”
“I meant in general. You’ve been under a great deal of stress lately, what with a centuries-old madman out to get you.”
Oh…right. Principal Nezu knew about everything too.
Izuku cleared his throat, “W-Well, I did break a lunch table, Sir.”
Principal Nezu laughed, “True, true. Great work, by the way! It’s wonderful to see your progress in the flesh!”
Izuku blanched, “P-Progress, Sir?”
“Of course! Tell me, when you put the fear of god into Monoma Neito, what was going through your head?” Izuku flinched—he wasn’t really thinking anything, he was just angry and wanted Monoma to stop. “Ah,” a predatory gleam lit up in Principal Nezu’s beady eyes as he set down his tea, “nothing, right? You were acting on pure, instinctive rage?”
Izuku gulped, shame coloring his features, “Y-Yes. I’d even activated One for All—I didn’t even know I had.”
“Exactly!” Izuku jumped when the principal slammed his paws on the desk, “Don’t you see what that means? You, Midoriya, are finally accepting One for All as a permanent fixture in your life!”
Izuku frowned at his words, until it dawned on him. “I…I didn’t consciously activate One for All.”
“No!” The principal exclaimed with glee. “It’s glorious! Soon enough, you’ll gain full control, and eclipse Toshinori in ability!” Izuku turned away, scratching his neck; like that’d ever happen.
Pushing away such thoughts, he cleared his throat, “Uh, Sir, am I not being punished?”
“Oh, perish the thought.” Principal Nezu calmed down in an instant, once more drinking tea. “You did, after all, damage school property and acted aggressively towards a fellow student.” Izuku nodded—finally, back in the realm of reality. “Of course, that same student has also been an increasing nuisance to both yourself and your class as a whole, so that will be taken into consideration when devising both your punishments.”
Izuku leaned back, “B-Both? B-But he didn’t—”
“Midoriya,” the Principal gently cut him off, “I like to cut off problems at their root. You did commit a wrong, but Monoma’s been a rising problem for weeks now. Honestly, I’ve just been looking for an excuse to put the screws to him.” He chuckled when Izuku’s eyes widened. “In any case, forget about him, I need to divine your punishment.” He hummed, one claw circling the rim of his teacup. “…I’ve got it! For the rest of the week, and every other day following your return from your,” he chuckled, “‘internship’, you’ll be having lunch in here, with me.” He shrugged, “And if I happen to be researching our shared problem and thinking aloud, well…”
Izuku stared at the principal. “Sir…that doesn’t sound like a punishment.”
“Oh, just wait till you see my thinking process—I like to chew on sunflower seeds, and I’m a very loud chewer.”
“Sir, I…” Izuku tried to come up with the right words but fell short.
Principal Nezu groaned, rubbing his snout, “You really ought to learn some guile—I’ll talk it over with Shouta, maybe add it into future lesson plans.”
“Sir,” Izuku repeated one last time.
Now, the principal sighed, clasping his paws over his desk. “May I call you Izuku?” Izuku nodded. “Very well. Izuku, I don’t think I need to stress the terrible situation you are in. You need all the help you can get.”
“But…” Izuku set his shoulders, staring Principal Nezu in the eyes, “I still should be properly punished, especially because I actually did do something wrong.”
The Principal rolled his eyes, “Was Toshinori ever this obstinate with Gran?” He reached into his desk pulling out a paper pad and pen. He handed them to Izuku, tapping the pad. “Here, write ‘I shall not break school property’, in English.”
Izuku arched a brow—a little archaic, and decidedly western, but he’d accept it. As he wrote the first sentence, he asked, “How many times?”
He’d barely even written the last word before the principal snatched the pad away. “Just the one.” Izuku frowned. Principal Nezu huffed, “What now? I punished you, aren’t you happy?”
“Sir, that’s not…”
“What, fair?” Izuku nodded. The principal was silent, before shrugging, “Yeah, you’re right. Frankly speaking as an educator, this whole thing sets my fur on edge. But,” he leaned back, fixing Izuku with a sad smile, “I’m not just a principal, nor are you just a student. The minute we found out All for One was still alive, your life expectancy shrank down to practically nothing.” Izuku flinched; while true, he didn’t have to just come out and say it like that.
“So, as much as it pains me, I can’t just treat you like an ordinary student. Besides,” the quirked animal waved a paw in the air, “I’m already toeing the line with breaking a dozen-or-so laws with our investigation into All for One. What’s a school policy in comparison?”
“I…I don’t know, Sir.”
“And I hope you never do.” He turned to look at the clock, “Well, it’s almost time for your lunch to end—did you get enough to eat?” But Izuku didn’t reply, mind miles away. “Izuku?”
“Hm?” Izuku jolted, “What?”
“Are you alright?”
“O-oh! Yes, Sir. It’s just,” he trailed off for a moment. “…It was nice.”
“What was?”
“Being…ordinary.”
“Oh,” Principal Nezu sighed, shaking his head, “I’m sorry to say, Izuku, but you never have, nor will your ever be, ‘ordinary’. However,” his lips spread into a warm smile, “from one freak to another, you’re doing just fine.” Izuku reciprocated the gesture, bowing his head in thanks. “Now,” Principal Nezu gestured to his left, “I’ll ask again, did you finish your lunch?”
“Not everything,” Izuku admitted, “but I’ll be fine.”
The principal scoffed, “If Gran finds out you’re skimping on meals, even I don’t want to know what he’ll do to you.” Izuku blanched—he hadn’t thought of that. The chimera gestured to his left, “I’ve got a mini-fridge that I pack full of snacks—take something, please.” Izuku hesitated for a moment, but nodded, getting up and walking over to the fridge. There was a lot of cheese and sushi in there, but Izuku did manage to find a decently sized rice ball.
He held the snack in both hands as he bowed, “Thank you, Sir.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure, Izuku,” Principal Nezu nodded back. “And I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Now, off you go.” He waved, and Izuku made a quick exit.
He turned the rice ball over in his hands as he left the office—while still a little uncomfortable with the blatant favoritism (even if he understood why) his day was looking up.
“Deku!”
“Wah!” Izuku cried, tossing up his rice ball. He reached into the air, clapping as he tried to catch his snack. He did catch it but ended up clapping his hands over someone else’s—Uraraka, the person that called him.
“Wah!” he cried once more, hastily pulling his hands away (almost crushing the rice ball in the process). Uraraka blushed (not nearly as much as him), and stepped back, fiddling with her thumbs. After taking a couple deep breaths, Izuku noticed that they weren’t alone. Yaoyorozu was also there, a polite smile on her face, but the slight roll in her shoulders belied the idea. He cleared his throat, “Uh…hi?”
Now both girls were giggling.
He tried again. “What are you two doing here?”
At that, the two frowned. “Midoriya,” Yaoyorozu began, “you destroyed a metal table—and a fair number of floor tiles.” Aw man, he hadn’t even thought about the floor. “Iida’s working on keeping our class from imploding, which left me to collect you and bring you back to class. Though I’ll admit I’m surprised that you were brought all the way to the principal.” She tilted her head, “And did he feed you?”
Izuku shrugged, shoving the rice ball into his mouth in the hopes it would mask his nervous expression. “This is just…consolation, I guess. Weird, huh?”
Uraraka nodded. “Yeah, that is really weird. Is everything okay?” Izuku debated if he should give them a wide smile, using the food in his mouth to disgust them into changing topics. But he still had a little dignity left in his life, so he just nodded. “Anyway,” Uraraka blushed, “I decided to come as well to help. You know…if you needed any.”
Izuku smiled softly, sending her, and Yaoyorozu, grateful nods. His life had gotten…insane…but with little things like this, he could get through it.
/+/+/+/+/
“…insulting the boy’s family? Have you no shame?!”
Nezu hummed, bouncing on his feet as Kan Sekijiro, otherwise known as the Blood Hero: Vlad King, read Monoma Neito the riot act. It was honestly quite impressive; it had to been at least ten minutes, and the man’s voice didn’t even sound strained.
Kan’s voice quieted, but Nezu was still able to pick up his words. “You’ve got talent, Monoma, and drive. But you can’t hope to see them to their full potential unless you set aside your petty grudges.”
Ah, if there ever was an opportunity.
“I concur!” Nezu shouted as he slammed open the door, a wide smile on his snout. Both San and Monoma jumped, the latter paling rapidly once he registered just who entered the room.
Even San looked worried. “Principal Nezu!” he exclaimed. “What are—”
“There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of rivalry,” Nezu said, ignoring his employee. “I encourage it, even!” He leaned forward, smile growing sharper, “Why do you think the Sports Festival always ends with one-on-one matches?” Neither teacher nor student answered. Nezu kept his cheerful mask up for another moment, before dropping it. “Of course, I draw the line at blatant harassment.”
Now, Monoma nodded, thoroughly cowed as he kept his gaze at the floor. “O-Of course, Sir. I understand. It…It won’t happen again.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Nezu easily replied. “In any case,” he reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper, “for you.”
Monoma looked at the piece of paper as if it was going to bite him. But he did end up grabbing it, “What is this?”
“A list of psychiatrists that should, hopefully, be able to work with you through your issues.” Monoma pulled a face, and even San grimaced. But Nezu wasn’t in the mood for any nonsense at the moment. “Schedule at least one appointment with someone on that list or you’re expelled.” Now they both grew alarmed, but Nezu left before he could hear any inane protests.
He let loose a harsh sigh, so many problems, so little time. Now that that was done, he could focus on tracking All for One and his cronies.
He started the walk back to his office, when something made his fur stand on edge. And life just keeps piling things atop him.
He set his shoulders, “Don’t skulk, Shouta, it’ll just add wrinkles.” Class 1-A’s teacher slipped out of the shadows; his ever-present frown sterner than usual. Nezu arched a brow, “Don’t you have a class to teach?”
“Not at the moment.” Ah yes, Hero Courses wouldn’t be for another period. Shouta narrowed his gaze, “What’s wrong with Midoriya?”
“Oh,” Nezu shrugged, “who can say? He’s a teenage boy seeking a career in one of the deadliest professions the modern world has available. He’s a little short for his age, has a habit of mumbling when he gets excited—”
“You know something,” Shouta cut him off, a growl seeping into his voice.
“I know a lot of things,” Nezu easily countered.
Shouta’s growl evolved into a snarl. “Don’t rope the boy into your little schemes.”
“Oh?” Nezu smirked, “Have someone else in mind.” It was only when Shouta’s eyes flashed, his hair rising into the air that Nezu felt a little guilt for his reply. He stood straighter, looking the man in the eyes. “I’m not bringing any harm to Midoriya, Shouta.” In truth, he was trying to prevent the boy from coming to harm. A surprisingly difficult task, given the shocking reach All for One maintained.
But Nezu couldn’t tell his friend anything related to that. There was a lot to Aizawa Shouta, and one of the most admirable was his unflinching belief in right and wrong.
But that also made him unbendable with regards to the law. And under most circumstances, it was the correct view.
But Nezu had first-hand experience that the law was not infallible. Had deep scars hidden beneath layers of fur that spoke of what the law could hide in its shadows.
When all this was over, Nezu realized, Shouta would never trust him again…Well, he could live with that. He’d survived worse.
Shouta sneered, but didn’t say anything in reply, stalking past him towards the teacher’s lounge. Nezu shook his head, already filing the confrontation away, focusing on the biggest issue at hand.
/+/+/+/+/
A/N: Midnight’s U.A. course is called ‘Modern Hero Art History’, and from what I’ve been able to find, it’s some weird mix of costume designing and…public relations? I don’t know, it sounds like a filler course U.A. made up to justify hiring someone…Fuck, that’d make a cool story. Yeah, U.A. is actually a shit school for everyone but the Hero Courses because they just make up bullshit courses to keep a bunch of Pro-Heroes around to teach classes A and B…Someone should get on that.