Izuku had seen people more nervous than Kenji, No Last Name Given, but he wasn't sure when. Worse than nervous – Kenji was twitchy. If Izuku had been following him he would have picked him out of a crowd easily, simply because of the way he kept checking his trail. It wasn't particularly encouraging. Izuku knew that Aizawa was trailing them already, and he also knew that he didn't want anyone else to be following them: if he'd wanted to get out of his MLA infiltration Akatani Mikumo would have vanished shortly after leaving UA, becoming just another cold case.
But he wanted to continue with the infiltration, which meant not getting picked up off the street because some hero saw them and Kenji panicked, so he had to calm Kenji down. And he had to do it while keeping to the personality to Akatani Mikumo, which meant not seeming too well informed.
"Um," Izuku said, "Are you being followed? Because I heard some of the Hero students, a few weeks ago, talking about how nervous people are more likely to be stopped in crowds."
Was it nonsense? Probably, but it was getting towards night and Kenji was risking looking like a kidnapper. He jolted around to look at Izuku, his eyes widening. Izuku noticed the way his hand jerked towards a pocket of his coat, as though reaching for something. A knife, if Izuku had to guess, and some small part of him began calculating. He didn't know Kenji's Quirk, which was the problem for knowing how to take the man down. Still, Aizawa was somewhere nearby, so Izuku just had to avoid dying long enough for help to arrive. That was some comfort. He nodded.
"Yeah," he said, "And we're kinda, just walking along in silence? You keep checking behind you? It doesn't look, you know. Natural."
Kenji looked around, down, pulled at the edges of his jacket, nodded.
"Yeah," he said, "Yeah. I, uh, I can see that. Right. Act natural. Uh…"
Oh boy. Kenji had seemed a lot calmer when he'd first picked Izuku up, but that must have been rehearsed – and Izuku supposed it made sense. After all, talking to Izuku was a lot less dangerous than trying to escort him away from potential lurking heroes.
"What's your favourite food?" Izuku asked instead. Kenji blinked at him and Izuku waved his flesh hand.
"It's a good conversation point," he said, "And talking about food isn't unusual. So. Favourite food?"
Izuku couldn't believe the amount of heavy lifting he was having to do. Honestly, being kidnapped would be easier – but Izuku managed to draw Kenji into conversation and keep him there as they made their way down the street, looking a lot less suspicious now. Izuku, from the corner of his eye, saw Aizawa's shadow make the leap between two buildings. A little reckless, but nobody who didn't already know Aizawa was there would have seen him.
Kenji certainly hadn't seen him, currently rambling on about a restaurant he'd recently gone to and how the food had been fine, a little overpriced, but not really somewhere he'd want to take his girlfriend. Or he hoped he'd soon be taking his girlfriend, he hadn't actually asked – Izuku wasn't sure if he hadn't asked if his girlfriend wanted to go out, or if he hadn't asked the girl if she wanted to date him - and he wanted to make a good impression.
This really was Izuku's life, he gloomily reflected, but at least it was something that was easy to talk about: just make the right agreeing noises and reassure Kenji that he seemed like a nice guy and the leather jacket was actually quite fashionable.
…alright, regarding the last part, Izuku wasn't lying when he said it was pretty cool. He thought that he could wear it better, personally, but it was a classic item of apparel for a reason. Kenji's strange fondness for pop idols, Izuku could have done without. Kinda retro, though.
Despite Izuku's quickly lowering opinion of Kenji, however, he seemed to at least know something of avoiding pursuit: they walked to the train station and took a short train ride, getting them away from anyone who was immediately tailing them – Izuku saw Aizawa sneak onto the train slightly after them – and then they walked again. Whoever had planned this path had done it carefully, because they lost Aizawa by ducking through a cramped alleyway and directly into a taxi on the other side. Kenji relaxed: Izuku mimicked him as best he could. This could be very bad. Izuku cast the briefest glance at Kenji and then at the driver, sizing them up.
No guns, he thought, only knives. That made things a little easier initially, even if the rest would be harder. Maybe there were others waiting to make sure that nobody followed or escaped, maybe not. Assume there were. How many could there be?
A lot. There could be a lot. Alright. What Would Jason Do?
Kill Kenji. Kill the driver. Kick both bodies out, take the wheel, fishtail wildly across the road until you gain control, wild chase through the city, crash somewhere run-down, run into an alleyway, probably escape. Izuku considered that before deciding that maybe, in this case, a little more subtlety was required.
Okay. WWBD, What Would Bruce Do. Izuku had already discarded Dick as an example, because no way was his flirting up to the task. So. Bruce. In this situation, Bruce would…well, Bruce would sit tight. Izuku hated sitting tight.
"We're getting close," the driver said gruffly – must have been an MLA plant, because Kenji hadn't given him any destination. How many damn MLA members were there? They were like cockroaches. At least Shigaraki had the common decency to be a single threat, if a large one. And he was a large threat, as he was enthusiastically demonstrating. No wonder Kenji was nervous, he had to look out for the League of Villains as well as lingering heroes.
"Where are we going?" Izuku asked quietly. Unfortunately Nedzu wouldn't be able to hear him: having an active communicator had been fine with the OMC, but the MLA themselves were more likely to have someone who could detect it. His replacement spectacles had a communicator but it was turned off, and secondary to the distress beacon that he could activate by breaking the eyewear. Izuku briefly wondered if Aizawa was panicking. Probably not – the man was professional, after all.
"Hero Agency," grunted the driver, "Safe there. Somewhere far away from the others who've been attacked."
Izuku didn't point out that the League of Villains had a teleporter and therefore nowhere was safe, but it took more effort than he was expecting. They continued to take corners apparently at random, definitely to shake anyone who might be tailing them. Not especially useful in this case, given that Izuku had at least three trackers hidden on him, but good practice. They turned another corner and down into a parking space, under a building that Izuku recognised as a Hero Agency, although he didn't know whose. Given the way the door to the parking space opened for them, they clearly must have been expected. Izuku and Kenji both got out of the car, the driver shaking his head and leaning back in his seat when Kenji asked if he was coming, and stepped into the cool air of the parking space.
Damp, Izuku thought, cold concrete, and he wondered if every underground parking space across the world smelled the same. Kenji seemed out of his depth again, even more than before, but an echoing clap drew both of their attention. The man who'd clapped, tall and broad and dressed in a green and purple Hero costume, walked over to them.
"At last," he said, smiling wide, "I thought you would never arrive! Akatani Mikumo, yes?"
Izuku bowed, electing for politeness. Given the way the man, presumably an MLA Hero, beamed he'd made the right choice.
"I'm Slidin' Go," he said, clapping Izuku on the shoulder, "Perhaps you've heard of me?"
"Only in passing, sir," Izuku said, still carefully polite. He knew more about Slidin' Go than that implied, but not that well: middle of the pack Hero. Quirk was…something to do with movement, Izuku thought. Friction reduction, maybe? He wasn't sure. Given the approving way Slidin' Go nodded, he must have done something right.
"This way," the big man said, "I'll take you to Miss Chitose."
No codename, Izuku noticed. He wasn't sure if Chitose had one – presumably, right? Then again, it wasn't as though Izuku didn't already know that Chitose was MLA. Kenji shuffled awkwardly, but he followed when Izuku did, trotting behind Slidin' Go, up a flight of stairs and into the Agency itself. Not exactly the Batcave, but the Agency was probably about average size, comfortably decorated without being too luxurious. It was probably intentional, now that Izuku thought about it: from what he knew of Nedzu's research, not a single member of the Top Ten heroes in the ranking were MLA plants.
Izuku glanced around as they walked, checking the walls and wondering what sort of defences might be within. He wasn't expecting anything as serious as UA or I-Island, with their reinforced shutters and blast doors – and the turrets and drones at I-Island – but if this was an MLA operation he'd expect some sort of aftermarket upgrades. He couldn't see any, although that didn't mean they weren't there. Slidin' Go was giving half a tour, rattling off rooms and stats in some places, and Izuku paid him just enough attention that the man was mollified.
"And it's just through here," he said, pushing open a sliding door and walking through, "Miss Chitose. I've brought your guest."
Izuku walked in afterwards, just ahead of Kenji, and made eye contact with Chitose as she stood from her laptop.
"Oh!" she yelped, ducking out from behind her desk and running over to him. Izuku, acting on pure instinct, stepped away as she reached for his face: he could play it off as a fresh new touch aversion from Rappa beating him to a pulp, and like Hell was he letting the woman who could turn people into bombs with a touch get her hands on him. He thudded into Kenji, forcing the man back a step, but didn't have the time to offer an apology. Chitose fluttered slightly but it was put on: Izuku could see the gleam in her eyes, the hunger for a newsworthy story. Her chosen profession suited her to a tee.
"Sorry, sorry," she said, "I should have thought that you wouldn't like someone running at you. But I'm so excited to see you alive and well!"
Maybe for the propaganda purposes, Izuku reflected, but he pasted a tremulous smile on his face and nodded.
"Um, thank you," he said. Chitose beamed at him and then leaned around him, waving to Kenji.
"Come in, come in. Kenji, right? You were on the beat by UA?"
"Uh, yes ma'am," Kenji said, "Saw him in a store and thought I'd better speak to him."
"You did well," she said – from the corner of his eye Izuku saw Kenji look bashfully down at the ground at the praise, and he shuffled to his right to give Kenji more room. Chitose followed his movement, still smiling.
"We were worried that you'd never be let out of UA," she said, her voice still soft – Izuku suspected she'd practiced the soothing tone for use on victims of disaster or villain attacks, because he didn't believe that it was sincere. Chitose just had a vibe to her that set his skin crawling.
"I think Principal Nedzu wanted to keep me in," Izuku said, "But in the end he said that I'd done nothing wrong and I couldn't really be trapped inside. My parents are – I don't know what happened to my foster parents, though."
If anything was going to blow his cover, Izuku thought, it was Akatani's parents. The fact that they simply didn't exist hadn't been too much of an issue with the OMC, but Chitose had rather more resources to find them. They'd decided on a story of negligent foster parents who'd run away simply in the hopes of curtailing any investigations. If it didn't work, well, so long as the MLA didn't get his DNA it should be fine.
Maybe he should've worn gloves.
"So they're just keeping you as a ward of the school?" Chitose asked, that gleam in her eyes again, "That could be a good story, UA using it's power to bypass the normal system! But there's something to be said for not making enemies rashly."
"Principal Nedzu said it was for my own good, so I can be protected," Izuku said. Just the right amount of cynicism – probably entirely deserved from the MLA perspective, given that he'd been more or less successfully kidnapped – and it gained him an approving nod from Chitose.
"He's probably even right," she said, "Overhaul must be after you, but he can't break into UA. Not before, and especially not now All Might is there. But we'll talk about that later because, right now, I want to know what happened with Overhaul."
Slidin' Go cleared his throat and they both turned to him. Izuku noticed that he waited until Chitose gestured at him to speak.
"I have to go on patrol," he said, "So I'll leave you to it. Kenji, come with me. And Mikumo – I know that you did well with the OMC, but just remember that Miss Chitose is a leader among the MLA. Treat her with the proper respect!"
How very stern he was, Izuku thought, but he nodded obediently. Chitose laughed.
"Oh, don't terrorise him," she said airily, "We'll be quite alright, thank you."
She waited until Slidin' Go left and turned her head to Izuku, smiling as though they were sharing a joke.
"He's so uptight over protocol and hierarchy," she confided, "Honestly, it's excessive. He takes the army part of the name far too seriously."
Chitose finally backed away from Izuku, clapping her hands together and hopping up onto her desk, legs swinging.
"Sit down, sit down," she said, waving at a chair, "We've so much to talk about!"
Izuku slowly took a seat and Chitose waited until it was just the two of them in the room to pull out a thick notepad and a pen. Very old fashioned in this day and age, with tablets and everything, but it had a journalistic charm that was probably intentional. Chitose leaned forwards, fixing him with her bright green eyes.
"Now," she said, "I don't think I need to lie to you: we need a good story. Not for everyone else, but for the MLA. We've lost more people than we'd like to Overhaul, so we want to know why. And, lucky for you, I'm happy to let everyone know! So let's start at the beginning: how did you get captured by Overhaul?"
Izuku took a deep breath, and started to talk. How the OMC had been called together, how he'd noticed that Bennet was missing, how he'd been taken. How he'd been shot. Chitose's pen stopped scratching away for a moment when he said that, but it started again immediately: Izuku wondered what she knew. He continued to his escape, telling a carefully curated version that he and Nedzu had come up with, one that went heavy on the luck and light on skills in the hopes of disguising his actual abilities, and ended with a desperate leap to a fire escape and an awkward slide down to the ground.
"Overhaul has been boasting," Chitose said carefully, "That he has bullets that can erase Quirks. Akatani, dear, have you…"
Izuku, on command, let his eyes widen and fill with tears. Crocodile tears, but it was effective: upon seeing them Chitose immediately put down her notepad and patted through her pockets for a tissue, making soothing noises apparently by instinct.
"There, there dear," she said, "It's alright. It'll be alright."
"I," Izuku said, making sure that his words hitched as though he was smothering a sob – Chitose looked torn between being genuinely comforting and recording this, probably for propaganda purposes – "I don't know. I was shot and it…it hurt. I've never really felt it before. And Principal Nedzu and Recovery Girl, they didn't know if my Quirk would come back or if I'd be Quirkless forever."
Mentally Izuku patted himself on the back. So long as they didn't take him off to dissect, he'd gotten a perfect excuse for never using his alleged Quirk. He should send Overhaul some chocolates.
Probably poisoned chocolates, because Izuku remembered how Eri had looked the first time he'd seen her, but he could arrange that some other time.
"We have doctors," Chitose said, low and calming, "They'll look over you. And if it can't come back, you made the greatest sacrifice you could to save a little girl. You're a hero, dear, even if you don't feel like it."
Strangely honest, Izuku thought as he sniffled and cuffed away his tears, Chitose finally leaning back. Good, because he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it up. He didn't cry as easily as he'd used to. He still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
"I wish I could keep you here, safe," Chitose said, "But I don't think it's going to be possible. Principal Nedzu is just too dangerous, and you going missing is too suspicious. Do you think you can fool him, if you go back?"
"I don't think I can fool him," Izuku said, completely honestly before he told the lie, "But I don't think he'll care to ask."
Chitose nodded.
"That's all I can ask," she said softly, propping her chin on her hand and studying him with those bright green eyes, shining amidst the void of her irises. Izuku shuffled uneasily under the gaze, deciding that Akatani Mikumo absolutely would not be composed under that stare. It seemed to work, because Chitose blinked and nodded.
"Have you ever heard of Humarise?" she asked, and Izuku was vividly reminded of Mina asking the same thing.
He shook his head.
"No, I haven't," he said, blinking away the lingering remnants of pretend tears. He was curious, admittedly. Chitose leaned forward, her smile vanishing.
"Humarise are a cult," she said, "In fact, calling them a cult might be too kind. They're a band of lunatics trapped in the past, hiding as a humanitarian organisation. They have rallies, maintain charities, speak out 'for the Quirkless' but it's all to hide their real ambition: to reverse the clock and get rid of every single Quirked person in the world. Do you know how many people that is? And Humarise would kill every single one of them."
Chitose abruptly leaned back, her smile reappearing a little smaller, a little wryer.
"Or that's what some people say. Personally I'm not sure of how truthful it is. Most of the people who say things like that are people who've left the group, and I'm sure there are some people that say the same thing about the MLA. But if Humarise really is planning something, we need to know. And what better way for someone to join Humarise than to lose their Quirk? Yes, it's perfect, bitter at the loss of your Quirk, the loss of respect, finding people who feel similar, it's almost too good!"
Was Chitose suggesting what Izuku thought she was? Ironic, if she wanted him to infiltrate someone, but it might be worthwhile. Izuku had a bad feeling about Humarise. There was something about the way they presented themselves that put his hackles up.
"But," Chitose said, clapping her hands together, "Not yet. Not yet! I'll have to talk with the others, make sure that you're up for it. Don't want anything to happen to you, after all."
No, Izuku thought, it would be very bad for morale. Nedzu would probably be interested in the concept of looking into Humarise, though. The more complicated the problem, the more the Principal liked it.
"I don't think you'll be able to come back here, either," Chitose said, "It's been nice to see you again, but we don't know who could be following you. Slidin's a good hero, but so were Seabreeze and Excelsior and the League got them all the same. I don't want to put you in danger."
Izuku blinked up at her, putting his confusion into his expression.
"Um, Miss Chitose," he said, "I've already been in danger, haven't I? And – and I want to help. To help the MLA! You aren't…kicking me out, are you?"
A normal teenager, with a mix of rebelliousness and timidity, that was Akatani Mikumo. Heavy on the timidity, usually, but with just enough belief in his cause to stand up for himself and Chitose smiled at him again.
"Kicking you out?" she said, "Never. Not after what you've sacrificed for our cause. But being a member of the MLA means knowing when to lie low, when not to draw attention. The OMC never quite managed that, unfortunately, but I'm certain that you'll know better. Right?"
Not the most politic thing to say to someone who'd recently lost all of his friends, but Izuku hadn't expected much different. Chitose hadn't been in the mob of reporters trying to break into UA, but that didn't mean she was any less a media vulture.
Chitose turned back to her desk for a moment, picking up a pen and a notepad. She quickly scribbled something on the paper, turning back and handing it to him again.
"Here," she said, "A phone number. It's for a temporary phone, of course, but if there's any emergency call it and we'll come to get you. Otherwise, sit tight and we'll be in touch. You've kept faith with us, and we'll keep faith with you."
The last line had the ring of something quoted, Izuku thought, but he didn't know what from. Perhaps one of the mysterious higher ups in the MLA: Nedzu thought that Chitose was high ranking, but couldn't be certain.
"I will," he said, "Thank you. I'll go back to UA, and I'll wait until you contact me."
Chitose nodded.
"We'll try and get you out," she promised, "We've got legal experts, as well as other methods. Maybe we'll be able to find someone to take you in, get you out from under Nedzu's nose, but for the moment you'll have to stay."
Unfortunate as it was, Izuku's own life precluded him from actually letting himself be adopted and infiltrating the MLA on a more long term basis. If they did ever manage to get him away from UA legally he'd have to make sure that Akatani Mikumo was considered dead. Probably stage a mugging gone wrong, he thought, although it would be a shame to lose all of his hard work.
"Kenji can't go back with you," Chitose continued, looking regretful, "There's too much chance of someone seeing him. But the taxi driver will take you back to somewhere safe, so you can get back to UA. Are you alright with that?"
Izuku nodded, putting on a brave face.
"I can manage, Miss," he said, "It's not too late."
Chitose nodded approvingly, standing up.
"Come on, then," she said, "Let's not keep you here for too long. Don't want anyone wondering where you are."
It was dark when the taxi dropped him off, leaving him in a brightly lit and deserted street. Izuku glanced around and up, pulling his coat more closely around himself, and ducked into an alleyway without even thinking about it. For most people it would be safer in the light – even for him it was probably safer in the light – but he would always be more comfortable in the shadows. He didn't expect anyone to be following him, but even if they were this was the way to lose them: he reached up and fiddled with his spectacles, turning the communicator on. He knew that he wasn't imagining the relieved breath that came before Nedzu hushed someone and started talking in his ear – he might be in for a lecture from Aizawa when he got back.
"It's good to hear from you again," Nedzu said, "Aizawa was quite worried when you went silent. Interesting to see where your tracker went, although we can discuss that another time. Do be careful on your way home, Mr Midoriya: there's a chance that Stain may be in the area, given his hunting patterns."
Izuku didn't reply – he couldn't, really, without risking giving something away – but he tapped his spectacles to switch the comms off and then on again, a quick acknowledgement. He'd already checked around and above him but he looked again, just in case: while Stain almost certainly wouldn't recognise him out of costume almost only counted in horseshoes and hand grenades, as he'd once heard someone say. Probably Snipe, actually, but that didn't make it any less relevant.
Izuku walked on quietly, footfalls making no sound, and listened to the night. Distant shouts, maybe cheering, the faint wail of sirens from emergency services. Much quieter than Gotham had ever been, but about right for here. He was tempted to take to the rooftops, but now that he'd been warned about Stain he knew better: he'd barely survived while fully equipped.
"I doubt Stain is near to your location, if you're worried," Nedzu said, displaying that uncanny ability to read his mind, "But it's worth bearing in mind. Going near UA is dangerous for him, although not as dangerous as I would like. The Hero Agencies simply aren't willing to cooperate to pin him in place and capture him. I suppose they all think that they can catch him on their own."
Izuku continued down the alleyway, mentally plotting the fastest route that would keep him out of the light. It shouldn't take him long.
"It's unfortunate," Nedzu continued, "But by good judgement or good fortune Stain has avoided attacking any truly high profile Heroes. Ingenium, Native, Mr Sparkle, Egg-Raid, Gastronomus, Wood Walker…probably the highest profile was Ingenium, and he's still not that important in the grander scheme of things. Worse, Stain attacked you and failed. People will think of it as indicative of Stain's weakness rather than your strength, Mr Midoriya, which makes them complacent."
Izuku chose to think of that as a compliment. Almost without thinking he looked up again, checking the roofs above him. Just in case. It was a hard habit to break once you got used to it. Someone was talking to Nedzu in the background, just a faint buzz through his communicator, but Izuku simply tuned it out.
Indicative of Stain's weakness, huh? Well, people did like to delude themselves: how many times had Bruce had the 'He's just a man' line shouted about him? Not that Izuku put Stain on Bruce's level: he was absolutely certain that Bruce would demolish Stain in combat, and to think of Stain surpassing Bruce in any other field was frankly laughable. But the principle was the same.
A cloud passed over the moon and Izuku shivered slightly. It wasn't a warm night, and he wistfully thought of the leather jacket of his costume, thickly insulated and windproof. He couldn't really have worn it as Akatani, even if his costume was much lower key than most of his classmates – after all, take off the helmet and zip up the jacket and he'd just look like another biker to a passing glance. But to anything more, the armour was just too clear. He briefly thought about a stealthier version, one where he could actually hide who he was, before dismissing the thought. The lack of armour just wasn't worth it. Izuku kept walking, comfortably in the shadows but senses alert, and it was that alertness that let him catch the faintest echo of a sound. Izuku frowned. That had almost sounded like footsteps, carefully matching his pace.
It could have been paranoia. It could have been that he was hearing things. Just to be sure Izuku shifted his pace, just slightly, speeding up just a fraction. Just enough that he'd throw someone tailing him off.
Just enough that he heard the click of shoes on the ground.
He was being followed.
Breathe. In. Out. Calm. Consider.
So, he was being followed. Who could it be? It could maybe be a Hero who Nedzu had set to follow him, maybe even Edgeshot if the Hero had seen him while patrolling, but Izuku considered that unlikely. Nedzu would have told him, and anyone who'd just seen him would call out. Scrap that thought. It could be the MLA, deciding that some loose ends were better off cut: Izuku didn't see why they'd be waiting, unless they suspected him of being a spy and were trying to track him. If they just wanted him dead, it would be easier to do it now. A couple of gunshots from a silenced pistol and it would all be over.
The back of his head itched, but Izuku knew better than to react. Wait. Patience. The alleyway split up ahead, he'd get the chance to hide there, he just needed to reach the turn. That would give him the chance to lose his tail, maybe spring an ambush, he wasn't sure which one yet.
Of course, it could just be some creep who'd seen a teenager walking down a dark alleyway and decided to follow. Or a good Samaritan looking out for him, but Izuku wasn't sure he believed in the existence of someone like that. Not when they were so carefully matching his pace to stay hidden.
From the silence in his communicator, Nedzu had noticed something.
"Mr Midoriya, there…is someone following you?"
The slight adjustment of the spectacles that meant a yes, Izuku straining his ears for the noise of the footsteps speeding up and Nedzu hummed softly. It was the only noise on the other end of the communicator, even the clicking of the keyboard silenced as Izuku continued his steady walk. The clouds finally passed from the moon, silvery light filtering into the alleyway, but it wasn't enough that he couldn't hide.
"This would be an unfortunate time to be kidnapped, can you lose whoever it is?"
Izuku didn't chance responding, but he didn't need to: he'd already reached the alleyway he wanted. He'd walked this way before, remembered the layout – a key survival skill in Gotham – and he knew exactly where to go. First things first: make them realise they were busted. Make them sloppy.
Pause as though unsure where to go, looking left and right. Turn all the way back abruptly, too quick for his tail to move, see the shadow rear back, gasp dramatically. Izuku should be an actor. His tail lurched forwards, raising a hand.
"Stop right there-"
Izuku, as might be expected of anyone in this situation, booked it. The fact that the man ran after him was, in Izuku's opinion, pretty damn indicative of nefarious intent. Izuku swerved around a corner, trainers squeaking against the damp ground, and sprinted down the next alleyway. His pursuer was louder, much louder, and Izuku had a good head start. More than enough. He swung around another corner to his destination, a fire escape that cast dark shadows underneath. Izuku jumped, his foot catching on the uneven brickwork of the wall, and used the boost to reach up to the underside of the fire escape. Both hands latched on to rusty metal and he hauled himself up, pressing himself into the shadows, and held his breath.
Silence. His pursuer came around the corner at a sprint, bouncing off the wall and staggering in the middle of the alleyway and Izuku breathed softly, slowly, eyes locking onto them in the dim light. About average height, the breadth of the shoulders indicated they were probably male, though it didn't rule out female. Dark hoody with no marks on it, the hood drawn up to cover their head. Izuku couldn't quite see in the dim light, but he suspected there was a scarf or balaclava underneath. He could probably rule out them being a random creeper then.
And if their appearance wasn't enough, the way they looked around would have made it certain. Whoever they were, they were following him for a reason: Izuku stayed still and silent, waiting. If they didn't find him they'd have to move on, and then he could drop down, follow them, see where they were going and maybe even who they worked for.
And if they looked up and to their right, correctly guessing where he was, then Izuku was going to swing off the fire escape and give them both boots to the face, land, liver punch, smash their head against the wall until they stopped kicking. Even if they were spying on him to find out his skills, they'd never be able to relate it to anyone if he gave them a bad enough concussion.
He really should work on these probable anger issues. He kept his breathing soft and steady, too quiet to hear even in the quiet night, and his stalker kept looking around, left and right and turning to look behind them.
"Damn it," they panted, voice maybe male, but through the muffling effect of whatever they were wearing Izuku couldn't be certain, "Damn it! How the fuck does a kid run so fast?"
Izuku took his opinion of them down a notch. They hadn't even checked up: they had decent stealth, but poor situational awareness. Although, given that their poor situational awareness was keeping all of their teeth in their mouth, it might be an advantage in this case. Izuku continued to look over the stalker, taking in all of their clothes. Non-descript, dark enough to sink into the shadows but not actually black enough that they would stand out, Izuku thought. A sliver of moonlight brushed over them and Izuku saw the one piece of colour on them that was still visible, their shoes. Red, dark red, almost the same colour as the boots he wore as Red Hood.
Izuku was fairly sure there was some sort of conspiracy theory about Quirkless people wearing only red shoes. It wasn't true – Izuku knew it wasn't true, because while his preferred trainers absolutely were red they also came in colours that Izuku couldn't even name, never mind all the regular colours of the rainbow – but all myths came from somewhere. So, what? A Quirkless gang who wore red shoes as their sign, like a bizarre version of gang bandana's or whatever?
Izuku suppressed a giggle at the thought. This wasn't the time.
Whoever they were, Quirkless gang member or not – hopefully not, because if someone Quirkless was following him so soon after Chitose had talked about Humarise Izuku would really need to see a medium – they didn't see him lurking in the shadows. They tapped a foot, bouncing on their heels for a moment before starting down the alleyway again, hurrying along. Izuku lifted himself down to the ground, his trainers touching silently, and started after them.
"No," Nedzu said in his ear, the word echoing slightly as whoever was with him said exactly the same thing, "Don't follow them."
Izuku paused, receding into the shadows at the base of the wall and staying still. His silent protest must have registered, because Nedzu spoke again.
"I don't doubt your skills, Mr Midoriya, but you aren't equipped and it's late. Chasing someone unknown into the dark is not a wise decision."
Izuku waited a moment longer, wrestling with himself, but then he nodded and backed away. Nedzu made sense, even if it rankled to let an opportunity like this slip away. He watched his stalker hurry away, clearly frustrated, before turning his back and heading back the way he came. Hopefully this time he'd be able to reach UA without incident.
UA wasn't as dark as it could have been: even now, at night, there were lights on and rooms occupied. That didn't mean that it was busy, however: without students present and with most of the teachers gone it was quiet, the faint buzz of lights above the only noise. Izuku would admit, it was creepy: something about the quiet of the usually bustling place was so much more unnerving than a place that was normally abandoned. He entered using a key-card, walking down the silent corridors towards Nedzu's office, and resisted the urge to check behind him every few steps. If there was anything there, he rationalised to himself, Nedzu would see it on the cameras and warn him.
Or he hopefully would, at least: Izuku didn't think Nedzu would put him in danger for the sake of amusement. Cracking under the pressure, Izuku took a quick glance behind him: nothing. Empty corridor, the lights not even having the decency to flicker and give some reason for his paranoia. Izuku took a deep breath and turned back, continuing to walk. He was just passing the laboratories when there was a clanging crash from inside, loud enough and sudden enough that Izuku leapt across the corridor and flattened himself against the wall. Biting back curses and clutching a dramatic hand to his heart he stepped back towards the door, cautiously approaching. No shouts, no yells, no further noise from inside.
"Uh, sir?" Izuku said, "Is someone supposed to be in the workshops?"
"Hmm? I don't think so. Power Loader, perhaps, but admittedly the Support course can be unreliable about recording their presence. And, unfortunately, they have a tendency to dissect any cameras I place in the workshops. Very protective of their works. If you could take a look, Mr Midoriya?"
Izuku silently cursed himself for letting his curiosity get the better of him – he should have just walked away. Who knew what could be going on in there, for all he knew one of the more unhinged Support Students could have built themselves a Terminator and accidentally set it to activate every night. And the worst thing was, Izuku was only partly joking: Hatsume's craziness took up so much of Power Loader's attention that other students he normally could have corralled were getting a taste of freedom. Well, Izuku consoled himself, at least if there was something horrible in there he'd have a whole workshop of mad scientist toys to defend himself with.
Spirit thus bolstered, Izuku slowly pushed open the door and crept into the workshop.
The lab was silent, eerily so, and Izuku found his hand patting at his hip as he entered, unconsciously reaching for his gun. His fingers grasped empty air and he narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth as he slowly advanced. Cold fingers danced down his back, breath tingling at his spine, and he strained his ears over the grind and whirr of machines, searched desks and piles of gadgets with his eyes. His breaths came shallow, quiet as he advanced into the ominous hum.
"Greeny!" Hatsume shouted from deeper within, as cheery as ever, and Izuku nearly jumped out of his skin. Still, at least he knew that saboteurs hadn't broken in. Honestly, it was petrifying that she could recognise him through his Akatani disguise, but for his own peace of mind he didn't dwell on it.
"Hatsume," he said, threading his way through the desks and over to her, "Why's it so quiet in here? Scared the life out of me."
Hatsume looked at him, her eyes zoomed in from her Quirk before she blinked, clearly baffled.
"What?" she said, before shaking her head and obviously dismissing what he'd said as unimportant, "Doesn't matter. That doesn't matter. It's great you're here, I need your arm!"
Someone less experienced with Hatsume might have assumed she wanted his help to lift something. Izuku, who knew better, immediately stepped back.
"Uh, why?" he asked, putting all of his effort into preventing a squeak from entering his voice. It was a close thing.
Hatsume had turned back to her desk, but on his question she spun back – the swivel chair she was sitting on whined in protest at the speed – and levelled him with a judgemental look.
"You," she said, pointing a finger like a judge about to pronounce a death sentence, "Went to I-Island and nearly died. Again!"
"I've never died at I-Island before," Izuku said, but the attempted witticism died under Hatsume's withering stare. She wasn't in the mood for jokes about dying, apparently.
"Our company is supposed to be Hatsume-Midoriya Enterprises," she said, still pointing that menacing finger at him, "And if you die before the company is even properly created it'll look bad for us! So, you can't die. Since you keep making enemies, I'll have to make sure you live."
Izuku wasn't sure if he should be hurt or touched. Probably touched, he concluded, although overprotectiveness was a weird look on Hatsume.
"And because you keep making enemies, I need to make babies that can counteract them! It's great for ideas, actually, and I already have a prototype plastic and ceramic handgun design drawn up! I also have a fully plastic helmet design but that's going to have to wait because I don't have the materials yet, but I'll get them. Oh, I'll get them."
Izuku knew he wasn't imagining the shudder of terror that went through him at the look in Hatsume's eyes. Never mind equipment: all he'd need to do was take Hatsume along with him and she'd terrify anyone short of the legendary All For One himself into surrender. Hatsume was now talking about touch-triggered sedative laced needles in his armour, for anti-Shigaraki duties, and chemicals to turn his blood into a nerve toxin when ingested and Izuku knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was his duty to mankind to stop her.
"Hatsume," he interrupted, somehow not quailing under the look she gave him, "That's, uh, that's great. But maybe something a little less, um…"
Supervillain? Psychotic? Izuku was spoiled for choice when it came to descriptors.
"A bit less extreme," he eventually said, settling on a lighter description like a coward. Hatsume narrowed her eyes at him, like she could smell his fear, but then she pouted and turned away.
"You sound just like Power Loader," she accused, "But maybe you're right. Why build five babies when one can do the trick?"
Was that enthusiasm in her voice? Oh no.
"The problem with building equipment to counter your last enemy," Hatsume lectured, "Is that it doesn't help against the next! You need to get stronger, better!"
She sprang to her feet. Izuku watched, desperately calculating his odds of managing to take Hatsume down if she went full mad scientist on him: given that Power Loader was missing, he wasn't sure he liked his chances. At least Nedzu would be able to see and send backup he thought, as Hatsume strode across the room to a covered figure.
"And so, to defeat any future enemy," she continued, "I have built this!"
She posed next to the covered shape – it was about man size and shape, not as large or festooned with weaponry as Izuku would have expected. Curious despite himself, he shuffled forwards to get a better view. Hatsume gave him a wide, unhinged grin.
"Allow me to introduce," she said, eyes blazing with a feverish glee, "The Hatsume-Shield Prototype Exoskeleton, the Equaliser Mark One!"
She whipped the covering off with a practiced skill and exposed to the world her newest creation.
It was, if Izuku was going to be entirely honest, beautiful. Oh, there was something to admire in Hatsume's older design, with its hulking armour and heavy weaponry, but Izuku thought he saw Melissa's hand in the sleekly armoured shape, foregoing firepower for protection and speed.
God, Izuku wanted to take it for a spin. To hell with tempting fate: he'd let Hatsume experiment on his arm if it meant getting to use that thing.
And Hatsume knew it, damn her. She was looking at him with that smug grin, like she was about to give a business pitch. Well, if it meant that Izuku got his hands on that thing, he could stomach it.
"It's designed for protection and speed," Hatsume said, gesturing along the arms, "Double layer polymer ablative armour with Hatsume-Midoriya impact gel underneath for protection, plus a complete seal for vacuum or underwater work. A fully integrated grapple and harness system on both arms, for easy grappling, and an advanced pseudomuscular system based around Power Loader's equipment to carry the weight and allow you to maintain agility! And this is just the prototype! Melissa argued me out of weaponry so you'll have to carry that yourself, but you can do all of that. And, once it's finished, it'll have the prosthetic connection to function like part of your own body!"
It did, in fact, sound incredible. But there were always downsides: Izuku folded his arms, hiding how much he wanted it.
"It sounds great, Hatsume," he said, "What's the catch?"
Hatsume planted an affronted hand on the Equaliser, clenching the other one in front of her mouth.
"Catch?" she said, rearing back in offence, "Catch? There's no catch, Greeny!"
Izuku met her eyes, raised one eyebrow. Hatsume, for all her intimidation factor, didn't last under his stare.
"Alright fine," she said, "It's not ready. It's never going to be as stealthy as you are without it and it weighs a bit, less roof hopping. And, you know, it needs power."
"Power," Izuku said, nodding, "Right. Power Loader wouldn't let you build a fusion reactor, so…"
"He told me that I couldn't have a mini fusion reactor," Hatsume said, flinging her arms triumphantly in the air, "But he never said anything about a battery! All it takes is a battery advanced enough and my baby will live! Live!"
As Hatsume's chuckles descended into outright villainous guffaws Izuku steeled himself and spoke over her laughter.
"Ah, Hatsume? Where is Power Loader?"
Hatsume went silent all of a sudden, cutting off her cackling to blink at him.
"Power Loader? Oh, he's over there somewhere," she said, waving an airy hand behind her, "I don't think he's very well. Sleep deprived, even! You know, he tried to attack me with some of those sonic bullets you designed? They weren't even fully finished, he must be exhausted! I put him to bed when he collapsed."
Oh dear. Izuku was thinking of giving up his spot in therapy to Power Loader, because he certainly needed it. He left Hatsume to coo over her powered armour, resisting the urge to join her in order to walk around the workshop and look for Power Loader. He eventually found the man in a corner, collapsed on several mattresses, his helmet discarded next to him. Izuku stared at the mattresses, briefly tried to work out why they would be in a workshop, then discarded the thought as stupid. The rest of the Support Course was only marginally less crazed than Hatsume: of course they'd sleep in the workshop if they could. Really it was amazing that Hatsume frightened them enough that they weren't here now. Izuku crouched down, putting two fingers to Power Loader's neck just in case: he was fairly sure the man was just sleeping, though.
"Honestly, I think he just doesn't look after himself," Hatsume said, wandering over and apparently immune to irony, "He just fell over right after he missed me with the rifle! I don't hold it against him, but wow. And he lectures me on lab safety."
Power Loader suddenly wheezed softly, one shaking hand reaching up to Izuku. The bags under his eyes were darker and deeper than almost any Izuku had ever seen, the definite sign of days spent awake, but he was still conscious, one hand weakly lifting the rifle towards Izuku.
"Mi…Midoriya," he whispered hoarsely, tears in his eyes, "Please…you have to stop her, you're our only hope. Take it…save us all…"
"Uh," Izuku said, looking up and meeting Hatsume's eyes. She was still beaming, apparently unconcerned, but now that Izuku looked past the terrifying cheer he could see the signs of a multi-day inventing binge. She really might need to be stopped. Power Loader's finger drifted dangerously close to the trigger and Izuku swooped down, relieving him of the rifle.
"Oh dear," Nedzu said in Izuku's ear, "Maybe I will need to hire a teaching assistant for Power Loader, after all. I assumed he was being hyperbolic when talking about Hatsume, but perhaps not."
Izuku carefully emptied the bullets from the rifle: they were definitely based on his sonic rounds, presumably with the hopes of scrambling Hatsume's senses enough that she'd pass out from tiredness, but there was a quality - or lack thereof - to them that spoke of little sleep and desperation. Izuku gingerly put them down on the bench, not certain that they wouldn't go off on their own, before giving the rifle back to Power Loader. The man seemed like he needed the reassurance.
"Uh, Hatsume?" Izuku said, drawing her attention, "When was the last time you slept?"
Hatsume blinked at him.
"Sleep?"
Oh dear.
"Oh my," Nedzu said, "I suspect that Power Loader is regretting not allowing me to install sedative gas vents in the workshops now!"
Izuku filed away the concept of sedative gas vents to panic about at another time. Right now he had an unexploded Hatsume to defuse and, much like a bomb, she could quite possibly be the death of him.
That was a little morbid, possibly exaggerated, but Hatsume really needed to sleep before she got any crazier. On the other hand, was it really Izuku's business? Power Loader whined a little bit and Izuku sighed.
"Normally, Hatsume, people need sleep," he tried. Power Loader mumbled to himself – Izuku chanced a look and saw the teacher hugging the rifle like a teddy bear, curled over it protectively. There really was no sanity in these workshops. Hatsume put both hands on his shoulders: from this close Izuku could see how bloodshot her eyes were.
"Greeny," she crooned, "Greeny, Greeny. I don't need sleep. I need answers."
Could Izuku replicate the Vulcan Nerve Pinch in defence of his life? He wasn't sure, but he might have to try. Thankfully for his fraying sanity Hatsume spun away, back to her workbench, and lifted a mask in both hands, high above her head.
"Behold!" she shouted, "The De-Sleepinator!"
Alright, knocking Hatsume out was definitely required. Izuku started to look around for something he could use.
"The…the De-Sleepinator?"
"Yes! This mask, created by my singular genius, uses a complex pattern of lights to simulate REM sleep in the brain! You can get a full nights sleep in the space of half an hour, leaving more time for inventions!"
Somehow, Izuku wasn't convinced it worked. Hatsume had turned her back to him, thrusting the mask into the air in some kind of triumphant pose. Izuku took a careful step forwards.
Hatsume pressed the mask to her face, clearly demonstrating, still unconvincing, and Izuku stepped up behind her and pressed a finger to a nerve point on her neck. Hard to reach normally, for someone in reasonably good condition the nerve point would have made them slightly woozy. Hatsume, who was sleep deprived at the best of times and currently running on mad science and a lack of respect for her own physical boundaries, went limp almost immediately. Izuku caught her and the mask, awkwardly juggling the mask until he got a good grip on it and could deposit it on a workbench. From there, he hooked both hands under her arms – Christ Hatsume was heavy, how did she manage it when, as far as he could tell, she never took a break to eat – and hauled her over to Power Loader and the mattresses. Hopefully Power Loader would wake up first.
Hopefully, Hatsume would not remember that he'd knocked her out. With any luck, she'd assume Power Loader did it.
"That mask is an interesting prototype," Nedzu commented, "It obviously didn't replace Miss Hatsume's need for sleep entirely, but she seemed far more functional than someone would normally be after three days awake. With properly measured use it could be a valuable tool."
"Please don't encourage her, sir. I know that I'm the one she'd experiment on, and I hate being sleep deprived."
Izuku turned away from Hatsume and Power Loader as Nedzu chuckled, looking thoughtfully at the Equaliser. Was it really safe to leave it there? Not that he expected Hatsume to have done bad work, but even she didn't get everything right first time. He cautiously advanced, all of his earlier interest displaced by concern, and gently reached out. Security systems? Possible, but unlikely at the moment. He paused with his fingers just inches away from the gleaming black plates of the outer armour, fingers trembling ever so slightly in the air.
No need to rush, he reminded himself. It would still be there when Hatsume finally woke up – beside, Hatsume had built this thing in what seemed a lot like a fugue state. The odds of her adding something that would cost him his other arm, therefore, went up more than Izuku was comfortable with and so he withdrew his arm and took a careful step back. Hatsume snored in the background and Izuku glanced back at her, shaking his head.
"Of all the people I've met, she still frightens me the most," he mumbled, before electing to err on the side of caution and beating a retreat from the workshop. He could ask Melissa about the Equaliser later, he reasoned.
"Probably a good choice, Mr Midoriya," Nedzu said, "I'll call someone to keep an eye on the two of them. Maybe Midnight, she's good at keeping unruly teachers and students under control."
Izuku decided that he didn't want to know. Instead he returned to making his ways through the corridors until he reached Nedzu's office, pausing outside. There was a good chance, if Aizawa had come back here, that he was about to get a severe telling off for continuing with the infiltration after they'd left Aizawa behind. Well, he'd already known that when he decided to stay in the car: Izuku took a deep breath, focused himself, and walked through the door.
Only Nedzu waited within. Izuku blinked and looked around the room, the Principal apparently seeing right through him.
"I sent Aizawa back out," he said, "After the person who was trailing you. If they really are just some stranger who decided to follow a teenager down a dark alleyway he'll hopefully scare them straight, and if not he's better equipped to deal with it than you are."
Well, Izuku couldn't dispute that. Nedzu must have seen this thoughts in his face because he nodded before continuing.
"He wanted me to tell you that continuing after your escort lost him was reckless, rash and foolish and he expected you to be smarter after the danger you've previously been in. He then, of course, grudgingly admitted that there was no way to escape short of throwing yourself out of the car and that remaining in character was probably the best choice. Now that I've given you the requisite dressing down, do take a seat. You're making my office look quite untidy."
Izuku chose to take that as the joke it probably was, walking across the room and sitting in the chair opposite Nedzu. Nedzu nodded approvingly, sipping from his cup of tea.
"I do suspect that Aizawa sometimes forgets that you're a student, Mr Midoriya. Perhaps for good reason, but he does overreact when he remembers."
Izuku nodded silently, not quite sure what to say, and Nedzu continued to smile as he put his tea down.
"Thank you for dealing with Miss Hatsume, by the way. I hadn't realised that Power Loader was struggling quite so badly: she really is a handful! I have wondered if I should direct Miss Hatsume's energies towards the annual inter-school Robotics Championship," Nedzu said, "Only my fear of the carnage that would ensue holds me back. Besides, it's good for the other schools to win something now and again. Why, the number of years they've conducted an organised assault against UA participants in the Licensing Exams is already growing!"
The Principal paused, a sly smile crossing his muzzle.
"You didn't hear that from me, of course. Aizawa likes to leave his class uninformed, he says it builds character."
"Is that what they call the Breaking of UA, sir? I've seen it mentioned now and again."
"More internet forums that you shouldn't be able to access, Mr Midoriya?" Nedzu asked, still smiling. It was almost paternal, in a way that terrified Izuku. Not that Nedzu would disapprove: rather, that he was far too approving. Izuku chose not to incriminate himself verbally and Nedzu nodded knowingly.
"Yes, the Breaking of UA. It's a very dramatic name for, well, essentially a school competition. It does the other schools good to get their energy out…especially Shiketsu. They're uptight enough without being able to upstage us in at least some ways."
Izuku wasn't sure if he'd describe the second ranked Hero academy in Japan as uptight, but now that he thought about it the word fitted. Nobody could make their students wear uniforms like that without being a bit off. When people accused Hero schools of churning out child soldiers, they almost always brought up Shiketsu: the militaristic vibe of the uniforms was bad enough before they put on the peaked caps. Definite villainous minion vibes, in Izuku's opinion, and the reputation for 'discipline' they had didn't help.
"Still, we have things to discuss other than our scholastic rivals," Nedzu continued, "Like the MLA. Interesting that they had a way to avoid tails ready and set up, but it does make sense. After all, they've evaded discovery for years. And we were able to confirm that Slide N Go is MLA: I'd suspected but not been certain."
"Do you think any of the top ranked Heroes are also MLA, sir?" Izuku asked. He didn't think so, but getting Nedzu's opinion was valuable. Nedzu steepled his paws together, gazing at the claws that tipped them thoughtfully.
"It's impossible to say for certain," he said, "But I think not. All of the heroes who we've confirmed as MLA so far – Seabreeze, Slide N Go, Samurai White and the others – have been middle ranked, skilled but unexceptional. If I were the leader of a conspiracy whose eventual goal is to overthrow the government, I'd be keeping my most powerful members hidden so that, when the time came, I'd have the element of surprise against the stronger Heroes."
Izuku chose not to examine the implication that Nedzu had considered how best to mount a coup against the government, instead nodding. It was something of a weight off his mind, not having to work out ways to counter the top ten Heroes: Izuku suspected he'd do it anyway. He already had plans for bullets that would probably work on Endeavour, after all, and it wasn't really fair to only focus on him.
"It's a shame that we didn't learn too much else about the MLA," he said instead. Nedzu nodded.
"Yes, although I can hardly blame you. It's very early days, although I've already begun drawing up plans for Akatani Mikumo to disappear too. Many people do go missing, unfortunately for them and luckily for us. Probably the most important thing Chitose mentioned was Humarise."
Humarise. Right. Izuku had almost forgotten about them, given everything else. He settled himself in his seat, waiting patiently as Nedzu gathered his thoughts.
"Humarise are an interesting group," Nedzu said, "And I mean that by your definition, rather than my own. Their leader, Flect Turn, is a fierce believer in Quirk Singularity Theory, most likely due to childhood trauma. He doesn't discuss this in the rare interviews he gives, of course, but he's open about his belief. That's all the information I've been able to gather on such short notice, however."
Flect Turn? That was a bizarre name even by Izuku's standards – maybe a pseudonym? Who knew. Izuku had done only the briefest of research into Humarise, having been content to conclude that they were a creepy cult and he wanted nothing to do with them. Sensible of his much younger self, really.
"Quirk Singularity Theory? That's the theory that as time goes by Quirks will become too destructive to be controlled, right? It's a doomsday theory."
Nedzu nodded.
"Very much so. The veracity of the theory is in doubt – of course it is, how do you prove something would destroy the world without actually destroying the world? You can't. It was proposed about seventy years ago by a Doctor Kyudai Garaki. It seems unlikely now: back then it was considered to be crackpot ramblings and Dr Garaki's fervency in defence of his theory did not gain him many supporters. Calling your detractors 'snivelling incompetents with the brains of a chimpanzee, who are so devoted to the flawed norm of science that they cannot conceive of advancement' may be gratifying, but it is not good at gaining support. Garaki became a laughing stock and, a few years later, he disappeared."
"He disappeared, sir? Or he was disappeared?"
Nedzu spread his paws.
"Your thoughts echo mine, Mr Midoriya, but there is simply no way to know. I intend to investigate, but Garaki's disappearance has gone unsolved for decades and I think we both know how easy it can be to hide a body."
Some secluded site in the woods, a fall into a river, a drop into the basement of some decrepit house somewhere…there were a lot of ways, Izuku knew. Most of the plans for Akatani Mikumo probably involved something similar. 'Last seen' near a bridge or a dark alleyway and nobody would ever know that Akatani was never real. Izuku just nodded.
"Humarise," he said slowly, "When they contacted me, I got the impression that there were…they're supposed to be a charity, I think. But I got the impression that they were collecting the Quirkless, like – like doomsday preppers."
Nedzu eyed him thoughtfully.
"Yes," he said musingly, "I suppose you would have a different view of them, being Quirkless yourself. Most people think of them as a charity. Most law enforcement agencies think of them as a more or less harmless cult."
"The MLA thinks of them as a rival."
Nedzu nodded.
"I will continue to research them, hopefully before you are sent into the lion's den. The MLA are unlikely to dissect you to find out how Akatani Mikumo lost his Quirk, but Humarise might. So much information, and so little of it useful."
Izuku nodded and, when Nedzu said nothing else, slowly stood.
"I should be leaving then, sir," he said, moving towards the door. Nedzu continued to stare at his paws until Izuku had reached the door, when he cleared his throat and looked up when Izuku turned back.
"If you're in a hurry, I won't keep you," Nedzu said, "But I must confess, I find myself curious. Before you went to I-Island you confided in me about the source of your skills. I wondered if you would be willing to discuss it further."
Izuku, nearly at the door, hesitated. Did he really want to talk about Jason? Not particularly. But if it helped keep Nedzu's trust in him, it might be required. And he didn't think he'd quite managed to get across the danger that Superman could pose: Izuku was sure that Clark was dead, the explosion too close and too powerful, but he'd been wrong before. Slowly, reluctantly, he stepped away from the door and returned to his seat. Nedzu nodded.
"I do appreciate your trust in me, Mr Midoriya," he said. Izuku studied him in silence for a moment. The non-human face made it harder, but he was convinced that Nedzu was sincere. Good enough. Izuku sat down again, slowly, marshalling his thoughts. The last time he'd tried to do this he'd become overwhelmed, stammered out some mishmash of words that even Nedzu had only gotten the most basic information from. He'd need to do better, this time, and Nedzu seemed content to allow him to collect himself.
So, where to begin? With Clark? With Joker? With - well, with Jason? Well, Izuku decided, in the end there was only one place to start, one place that would supply the needed context. One place, that it always came back to. Izuku looked up, meeting Nedzu's eyes, and took a deep breath.
"I guess it starts with Bruce – with Batman. And with Gotham."
No going back now.