specific tw: food/eating, chronic pain, anxiety. see masterpostfor genre + general tw.
notes: god i missed this fic
you sit on the edge of your bed – the one at yamada and aizawa’s house, not the one at your foster family’s house – and stare at the piece of paper in your hand. your phone is in your other hand, open to the contacts page. your favorites – your mentors and amanatsu-chan – hover at the top of the list. everyone else in your phone is either your foster parents or someone you’d done a school project with.
you don’t really want to call him – talking over the phone is just asking for a dry conversation that cannot be easily escaped. texting him is awkward but… less so. and not contacting him is worse, because if he gets in and so do you, you’ll have to see him every damn day, knowing you effectively ghosted him before you even talked.
you type midoriya’s number into a new contact and send a quick text.
specific tw: food/eating, chronic pain, anxiety. see masterpostfor genre + general tw.
notes: god i missed this fic
you sit on the edge of your bed – the one at yamada and aizawa’s house, not the one at your foster family’s house – and stare at the piece of paper in your hand. your phone is in your other hand, open to the contacts page. your favorites – your mentors and amanatsu-chan – hover at the top of the list. everyone else in your phone is either your foster parents or someone you’d done a school project with.
you don’t really want to call him – talking over the phone is just asking for a dry conversation that cannot be easily escaped. texting him is awkward but… less so. and not contacting him is worse, because if he gets in and so do you, you’ll have to see him every damn day, knowing you effectively ghosted him before you even talked.
you type midoriya’s number into a new contact and send a quick text.
you: hey, it’s [surname], from the exam
you plug your phone in to charge and lay down to take a nap, exhausted after the exam, when your phone buzzes on the floor next to your bed. your mattress is on the floor – it’s comfortable and you’re not going to fall very far out of it – so it’s easy to reach your phone. the screen glows with a text message. how the hell is he awake after getting nearly his entire body healed? shouldn’t he be practically comatose?
midoriya: oh hi!! this is midoriya!
so many exclamation points. anxiety. pleaser. you brush the unnecessary thoughts away and unlock your phone to open the message. several more pop up.
midoriya: you already knew that tho, sorry
midoriya: did you still want to tell me about your quirk?
midoriya: it’s okay if you don’t!!
jeez, he types as fast as he talks.
you: yeah, i can still tell you abt it
you: tomorrow work for you?
you pull the quilt further up to block the light coming from the window behind you. your head sinks into the pillow; your head hurts. the bright screen is making it worse. it feels like your brain is six feet outside of your skull, raw and exposed in the open air. your neck aches.
midoriya: yes! tomorrow is great! i live in musutafu, so if you do too, and if you want, we can meet up? i really don’t have anything to do while i wait for UA to release the results (;´・`)>
the kaomoji is cute. it makes the corner of your mouth twitch. the idea of seeing someone you don’t know well, however – that makes your skull nearly crack. you say yes anyway.
you: sure. i live in musutafu too
well, at least for the week while you wait for the results. no point heading back if you’re going to be attending school here. (not that you want to head back. being here is much easier.)
midoriya: great!! i’ll text you tomorrow about it ヽ(´▽｀)/
you turn on do not disturb and put your phone face down on the floor. your head fucking hurts, the bones in your fingers feel like they’re vibrating and grinding each other into dust, and you’re going to sleep. hopefully it’ll go away if you sleep.
—
aizawa is slumped over his bowl of rice and egg, but neither you nor yamada, presumably, is worried about him face-planting this morning – his grip on his chopsticks is good enough to indicate that he is, in fact, awake. yamada is eating at the speed of light in order to get to the radio station on time – not that he’s ever late in the first place.
you stare down at your bowl of tamago gohan. “hey, uh…”
yamada pauses and nods encouragingly, still stuffing rice into his mouth. aizawa turns imperceptibly towards you.
“do applicants get points for rescuing other applicants on the exam?”
aizawa is trying not to smile, or at least you assume he is, because he shoves his face down into the capture weapon he’s already wearing.
yamada looks blankly at you, chewing.
“yeah,” says aizawa, and shoves some rice into his mouth.
you go back to eating.
yamada chews faster and swallows in a hurry. “you’re not supposed to tell them that, shota!” he hisses, like it’ll do any good.
aizawa shrugs. “they already knew. illogical to lie to their face.”
“it’s not lying if i don’t say anything.”
“omitting information.”
“omitting information that they are not supposed to have!”
“omitting information,” aizawa says, firmer.
“and they say i’m the loudmouth?”
“cheap shot.”
“still scored.”
aizawa huffs – he’s not really annoyed – and turns to look at you. “why?”
“i saw someone at the exam only rescue people – they didn’t get any points from the robots.”
aizawa nods and eats some more rice. “they’ll be fine.”
yamada gets up to put his dish in the sink, “but don’t tell them that.”
“sure.” good thing you didn’t ghost him, then, since you’re probably going to end up in the same school.
your phone has a few texts waiting for you when you get back to your room after washing the dishes.
midoriya: i’m basically free all of today – we could meet at the takoba beach park?
you: okay – i can take the 4 pm train
midoriya: okay!! ill meet you at the station at 4:15?
you: see you then
you put your phone back down and crawl under the covers for another nap. your hands still feel like the bones in them might explode.
—
the train is mostly empty, so you sit in the back – you can see all of the doors from there – and put in one earbud. you leave your phone on do not disturb again, with only aizawa, yamada, amanatsu-chan, and midoriya’s notifications allowed. those are the only people you’ll need to talk to today.
the more rural and suburban areas of musutafu open up as you leave the city – more space, less places for people to hide, fewer people in the way. not quite as rural as your legal residence, though.
you can see him through the window of the train as it slows, waiting on the platform. he has his backpack on – which looks a little poorly proportioned on his broad frame – and a stupidly big smile. his expression actually hurts your stomach a little bit.
the doors slide open and you step off.
“hi!” he waves and you raise your hand in response, then shove it into your pocket.
“hi, midoriya.”
he looks at you, and you want to look away. neither of you speak, and neither of you look away.
“midoriya, the beach? how do we get there?” you prompt, finally ripping your gaze away, the silence too aggravating for you.
“right, right, yeah, uh, just follow me? i’ve been going there since i was a little kid and i spent a lot time there this summer so i know the way really well!”
you walk beside him. “i have one question, before you start asking me things.”
he nods way too quickly.
“actually, two. one – why do you want to know so much about my quirk? two – did you score any points on the exam yesterday?” you fix your gaze ahead, but you’re still watching for his reaction, which will hopefully be unguarded, since you’re not looking directly at him.
midoriya chews on his lip and walks a little faster. “for the first one, it’s because i find quirks really interesting! i’ve been analyzing them since i was a kid because i wanted to be a hero, and i really liked watching the fights and the news clips and, and, ah, i uh, didn’t get any points. no.”
“did you apply to the support department as well? they’d probably like to have a quirk analyst.”
“no, i didn’t. i really wanted to be in the hero course…” he tangles his fingers in his hair. “it probably sounds ridiculous. but i did really, really want to. i thought that maybe i’d have a chance.”
you hum. “maybe you still do.”
he whips around fast enough to break his neck, “what? but i didn’t– i didn’t get any points, i didn’t get any of the robots except that giant zero pointer that broke my arm! it would be stupid to keep hoping, you know? even if i passed or did well on the written exam…” he stops walking, looking at his feet. “even then, i need to accept that i won’t get in. i didn’t get any points on the practical, and i need to be realistic about it.”
you’re not sure if he’s telling you or himself, but a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, and you look at him from the corner of your eye. “but they never said admissions were based on points, so you still have a chance, right?” you leave out the part about rescue points.
midoriya laughs, bright and clear, sudden, and it burns like chlorinated pool water in your sinuses. he claps a hand over his mouth and then drags it down his face like he doesn’t know what to do with himself – he probably doesn’t. there’s a long silence as you start walking again, and he jogs to catch up.
you’re in step again when he almost trips over one of his feet in a sudden fit of excitement, apparently done processing (mumbling) and ready to launch into a rant.
“i might have a chance, i, i might actually have a chance. i can’t believe it, how did i miss that? that makes so much sense, though, because they just said we could gain points, not that it actually mattered how many you got… oh my god–”
“we’re here, midoriya.”
the waves, crystal blue, lap gently at the beach. it’s the afternoon, but the beach is relatively empty and calm, not crowded with people. or crowded with the piles of garbage that had washed up there. “this is much cleaner than i remember it being.”
just like last time, he follows your conversation jump without issue. “yeah i, i kind of spent the whole summer cleaning it?”
“nice. i’m sure the whole community appreciates it.” you have to actively work to make sure it doesn’t come out flat. you’re not entirely sure it works. you really do mean it, you think.
the compliment or the tone must set off some kind of alarm in his head, because he’s immediately waving it off. “no, no, no one knows i cleaned the beach! it was a personal project and it’s – oh no, now you think i picked this spot to brag about cleaning the bea–”
you kick some sand at his shoe, hands still in your pockets. “midoriya. i don’t think that. it’s fine.”
“really?” you’re quiet, and he slowly un-pretzels his arms from around his head. “oh, uh. okay. good!” he nods to himself. his smile slowly comes back until it feels like the sun is blazing full force in your face, bright enough to make you look away at a bench that happens to be to your right. it’s in the ocean grass right before the sand begins.
“we could sit over there?”
midoriya nods again and you sit down on the bench, one knee pulled to your chest. he sits next to you, cross legged, shoes on the bench, and pulls out a notebook and pen. the sun glows marigold on the white pages.
he scribbles your name down at the top and turns to you, “do you have a hero name yet?”
you rest your chin on your knee. “i haven’t picked one, no.”
he beams, and it feels like you’re in front of a solar flare. “that’s okay! i can help you come up with plenty later, if you want! or if you already have some ideas but you just don’t know which one to pick, i could help you with that too.”
you wait a few seconds to see if he’s done talking – this rant isn’t an anxiety tangent, so no need to interrupt it. “sure.”
“so, can you just manipulate energy in your surroundings? or produce it? or store it? can you absorb any energy at all, no matter the form?”
he writes as you respond.
“it has to… i have to use my physical body as a conduit in order to manipulate it. i can’t change it without it passing through some part of me. and i can store that energy, and i’d assume every form, although i haven’t tried nuclear, and for safety’s sake i won’t try it.”
midoriya keeps scribbling, apparently unphased by the nuclear comment. he pauses and taps the pen against the page, humming. “but what about sound, or light,” he mutters, the tapping speeding up, probably keeping time with his thoughts. “you can’t really touch those forms…”
“yes you can.”
he stops tapping his pen, blinking at you.
“if you can hear it or see it, you’re touching it, or more accurately, the energy is touching you. same thing with heat – if i can feel the heat from a fire, i’m touching the edge of that energy source, which means i have access to the whole thing.” this is starting to feel oddly like a quirk counseling or training session.
“is there a limit? to the amount of power you can hold? do you have to release it? what happens if your quirk gets canceled or you turn it off while holding energy – wait, wait, can you even turn your quirk off? does it work that way? what about turning off the absorption and the storage separately? can you do that?” he’s practically vibrating, pen blurring in his hand as he switches between writing and tapping the pen on the page.
you wish you’d brought a notebook, just to keep track of all of the questions. you grab at them, trying to keep them all centered in your mind until you can get through all of them. you lunge for the topic in general instead. “yeah, i can hold onto it – the more energy there is, the harder it is to hold onto. like dropping soap in the shower. if my quirk is cancelled, the energy dissipates. so far that’s been harmless.”
you have no idea how he can keep writing without looking at the page. he’s looking at you instead, beaming.
“and what about turning your quirk off? can you?”
“yeah, but i prefer to leave it on and just… intentionally not absorb anything.”
he turns to you and you can feel the next question that’s coming – why? doesn’t that lead to symptoms of overuse? – so you reroute the conversation.
“i have some questions for you, midoriya.”
you can see the way he mentally stumbles, tripping over himself as the momentum of the conversation shifts in an unexpected direction. “you have questions for me? about me? me?”
what he means is what could there possibly be to ask about, to know about him. a terrible sense of familiarity curls in your gut, so you abruptly swerve away from the quirk questions. you won’t reduce him to that, even if that’s what he’s reduced himself to, or perhaps what he’s beenreduced to.
“why do you want to be a hero?”
“it’s been my dream since i was a kid. and recently it’s become someone else’s dream for me, too, so i can’t let that person down!” he clenches his fist and smiles like he’s facing something down. it’s a childish kind of joy, one that should look out of place on a soon-to-be-hero’s face, but he wears it well.
you cock your head, “but… why is it your dream? it just being a dream isn’t a reason.”
“it’s my goal to save people, both from villains and from the possibility of villains. i don’t want anyone to be worried about being a victim,” he says, simply.
you nod and rest your chin back on your knee. “who’s your favorite?”
“all might! he’s just… i want to be unbeatable like that, so that way no one has to worry, so that people will see me and think ‘i’m safe now.’ i want to make people happy and safe, and he does that really well!”
he beams at you in the afternoon sun. “what about you?”
“my favorite?” you pull your other leg up onto the bench and turn to face him, mirroring his cross-legged position.
“yeah, your favorite!” he’s still holding his notebook and pen, but he’s not tapping or writing anymore. just waiting for you to answer, focused.
a smile cracks across your face, barely unrestrained. “eraserhead, present mic. but gang orca, fat gum, ingenium, joke, and midnight are close behind.” they’re all great to hang around. sakamata-san sucks at monopoly, though.
“they’re all really cool, yeah! have you met any of them? i was really lucky and got all might’s signature a few months ago.” he flips his notebook to a different page to show you.
“why am i not surprised that he signs in all caps?”
midoriya beams even brighter at that, laughs, and it stings a little less in your lungs than the first time. you have to force yourself to pick the conversation back up and not let it drop into the quiet white noise of the waves.
“yeah, i’ve met all of them, actually.” at yamada’s saturday game night. nemuri and emi are always there, and tensei used to bring kid’s games when i was small.
midoriya almost throws his notebook in his excitement, hands flying around again. “you met all of them? how?! they’re all so busy and their agencies are in completely different places! some of them don’t even do signings, so there’s no way you could have met them without either looking for them in their patrol areas or seeing them by chance, but that’s a lot of heroes to just see by–”
you reach out and take the pen out of his hand. his jaw snaps shut. he plays with the corner of one of the notebook’s pages, staring down at it instead of looking at you like he was before.
“sorry,” he says, quieter, slower. “i know that all the talking and mumbling to myself is annoying and creepy.”
you hand the pen back. “it’s not.” he looks like he gives himself whiplash from how fast he looks up.
“it’s not annoying,” you say it again, shrugging. “i just… i could explain it to you if you just ask. no need to wonder about it.”
he clutches at the pen with both hands, holding onto it tightly. he chews his lip again. “you’d answer? i know i’m asking a lot of questions. i don’t want to be a bother!” he lets go of the pen with one hand so he can wave rather frantically.
“if you were being a bother, you would know.”
midoriya’s smile comes back, not full force, wobbly and nervous, mercury knocked slightly out of orbit, bright and unsteady. he shuffles so that he can sit facing you. “so… then how did you meet them?”
you twist the truth as it rolls off your tongue. “one of them is my mentor.” two. “i met the other pros through them.”
he looks so incredibly excited that you worry all that energy will tear his body apart. “oh i have a mentor too! i can’t tell you who it is, so you don’t have to tell me who yours is, that would be unfair. do you think everyone at UA has a mentor? is it common?”
“i don’t think so, at least not for first years.”
midoriya slumps back against the arm of the bench. “oh, that’s a relief! at least i have a little less catching up to do, then.” he sits up fast enough that he almost falls off the bench. “i don’t mean that i’m ahead of everyone! i did not mean to come across that way, i just meant, uh.”
“you meant the gap you’re trying to cross is smaller than you thought it was for a second.”
he nods and relaxes again. you study him for a few seconds.
“you’ll catch up,” you say. he will.
midoriya looks at you like there are stars in his eyes, shining, glossy, probably because he’s tearing up. “i hope you’re right. there’s a lot riding on you being right.”
“i’m always right.”
he laughs. this time it doesn’t sting at all. “i hope you’re right about that, too.”
“you’re always hopeful, it seems.”
“i try.”
that makes you laugh through your nose. he glances at you when you do, and you see his smile melt into something soft, thoughtful. hopeful.
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