The sleek black rideshare pulled away from UA's main entrance, merging smoothly into the afternoon traffic. Mom sat in the front passenger seat while Camie and I settled in the back, her shoulder pressed against mine despite the spacious seating. The driver—a reptilian man with vibrant green scales covering his exposed skin—kept his yellow eyes fixed on the road. His face extended into a lizard-like snout, and his desaturated purple-pink hair was swept back, revealing more scales along his hairline.
"Thank you for coming all this way to get me," I said to Mom, who turned in her seat to smile back at me.
"Of course, honey. I'm just glad you're finally out of there." Her eyes, so like mine in color but softer in shape, crinkled at the corners. "How are you feeling?"
"Better than I should," I admitted, flexing my hand. "Like I've been plugged into a power outlet."
Camie nudged me with her elbow. "Told you. Supernatural stamina."
Mom's eyebrow arched slightly, but she thankfully didn't pursue that particular thread. Instead, she turned her attention to the driver. "How long until we reach Musutafu, sir?"
"Traffic's light today. Twenty minutes, tops." His voice had a raspy quality, like sandpaper against stone. His clawed fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he glanced in the rearview mirror, catching my eye for a brief moment before looking away.
The car's radio played softly in the background—some generic pop station—until the driver reached over and pressed a button, switching to a news broadcast.
"—Attack on the pro hero Ingenium in Hosu City continues to send shockwaves through the hero community. The incident, which occurred Wednesday afternoon during UA's first-year Sports Festival, has been confirmed as the work of the villain known as 'Hero Killer: Stain.' Sources close to the investigation state that while Ingenium is now in stable condition, the extensive damage to his spine will likely force his retirement from hero work—"
My body went rigid. Ingenium—Iida's brother. The proud family legacy that Tenya had spoken of with such admiration. I exchanged a quick glance with Camie, whose usual playful expression had fallen away, replaced by genuine concern.
"—the latest in a string of attacks targeting pro heroes across Japan," the broadcaster continued. "Stain has now critically injured or killed seventeen heroes in the past two years, with his victims seemingly chosen based on some unknown criteria—"
"Excuse me," Mom interrupted gently, leaning forward. "Would you mind turning that down, please? My son just got out of the hospital, and I'd prefer something a bit more... uplifting."
The driver's scaled fingers hesitated over the volume knob, his yellow eyes flicking to the rearview mirror again.
"You hear what they're saying, though?" he asked, voice low but intense. "About this Stain guy? What do you think about him?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
He shrugged one shoulder, scales shifting with the movement. "Just wondering. Some people online are saying he's not all bad. That he's targeting fake heroes, you know? The ones who are just in it for fame or money."
"He's a murderer," I stated flatly. "Whatever his ideology, he's killing people who dedicated their lives to saving others."
"Not killing all of them," the driver countered, then seemed to catch himself. "Just saying what I've read online."
"He's a menace," Camie said with unusual seriousness. "They say Stain's an S-tier threat that needs to be caught before more people die."
The driver's claws tightened on the steering wheel, the scales around his knuckles paling slightly. "Right. Sure." He reached over and switched the radio to a music station. "Just making conversation."
The car fell into uncomfortable silence, broken only by the generic pop music now playing through the speakers. I stared out the window, mind racing. Ingenium had been attacked during the Sports Festival—while his little brother was competing, unaware. How would Iida take this news?
"Are you alright, Izuku?" Mom asked, noticing my expression. "You've gone pale."
"I'm fine," I lied. "Just thinking about getting back to work tomorrow."
"You should rest first," she insisted. "Recovery Girl said—"
"I know what she said." I softened my tone, not wanting to worry her further. "I'll be careful, I promise."
Camie's warm hand slipped into mine, her thumb tracing small circles on my skin. The gesture was comforting, grounding.
"Hey," she said quietly, for my ears only. "Iida's tough. He'll get through this."
"I know. I just... I should talk to him."
"After you've rested," she agreed.
The driver cleared his throat. "You kids from UA?"
"Yeah," Camie answered when I remained silent. "First year."
"You were in that villain attack, right? The USJ thing?"
I narrowed my eyes, studying the driver more carefully now. "It was on the news."
"Right, right." He nodded too quickly. "Big story. You guys fight any villains directly?"
"Why are you so interested?"
The driver's yellow eyes widened slightly, and he forced a laugh. "Just curious, man. Not every day you get UA students in your car, you know? Especially after all that's been happening."
Mom, sensing the tension, smoothly changed the subject. "Izuku, have you thought about what you want for dinner tonight? I was thinking of making katsudon."
"That sounds perfect," I said, playing along but keeping one eye on the driver, who seemed to relax as our attention shifted away from him.
The rest of the drive passed in safer conversation—school, upcoming exams, the aftermath of the Sports Festival. Throughout it all, I kept noticing the driver watching us in the rearview mirror, his gaze lingering a beat too long each time.
When we finally pulled up to my apartment building, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. We thanked the driver and climbed out.
"That was weird, right?" Camie whispered once the car was out of sight. "The way he kept asking about UA and villains?"
"Very weird," I agreed, placing a protective hand on my mother's back as we headed toward the building entrance. "Let's get inside."
When we entered, Mom insisted on making tea before we settled into any serious conversation. The familiar routine of her bustling around the kitchen, pulling down our favorite cups and heating the water, brought a sense of normalcy I hadn't realized I'd been craving.
Camie had made herself at home on our couch, feet tucked underneath her as she scrolled through her phone.
"Here we go," Mom said, carrying a tray with three steaming cups to the coffee table. "Green tea with honey, just how you like it, Izuku."
I took the offered cup, inhaling the familiar scent. "Thanks, Mom."
She settled into her armchair while I joined Camie on the couch. For a moment, we just sat there, sipping our tea in comfortable silence.
Then Camie looked up from her phone, her expression grave. "It's official. They've confirmed Ingenium will never walk again."
My grip tightened on the cup. "Does it say anything about Iida?"
She shook her head. "Nothing specific. Just that 'the family has requested privacy during this difficult time.'"
"I should call him," I said, already reaching for my phone.
Mom placed her hand on my arm, stopping me. "Honey, if they've asked for privacy, maybe give them a day or two? Send a message letting him know you're thinking of him, but don't push."
I hesitated, then nodded. She was right, as usual. "I'll text him."
As I composed a brief, supportive message to Iida, Camie continued scrolling through news reports.
"This Stain guy is seriously messed up," she said, turning her phone to show us an article featuring a shadowy figure with a blood-red scarf and multiple blades. "Says here he leaves his victims alive just often enough to spread his message. He's got some manifesto about 'purging fake heroes' and 'returning to true heroism.'"
"Sounds like the driver was quoting him directly," I remarked, sending my text to Iida. "Which is concerning, considering how many people he's driving around daily."
"Should we report him?" Mom asked, worry creasing her brow.
I considered this. "For what? Having concerning opinions? He didn't actually threaten anyone or admit to anything illegal."
"The problem is," Camie said, setting her phone down on the coffee table, "if this driver is spreading Stain's ideology to passengers, he's potentially radicalizing people." She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, her usually playful expression replaced with something more serious. "That's how this stuff spreads."
Mom's fingers tightened around her teacup. "It's frightening to think someone who seemed so normal could support such violence."
I leaned back against the couch cushions, weighing our options. "We don't know that he supports Stain. He might just be repeating what he's read online."
"Did you see his face when you called Stain a murderer?" Camie pressed. "That's not just casual interest."
She had a point. The driver's intensity when discussing Stain had been unsettling, his defensive response when I challenged him even more so.
"Maybe we should at least file a report with the rideshare company," Mom suggested, setting her cup down. "They should know one of their drivers is discussing violent criminals with passengers."
"They'll just say he has freedom of speech," I countered. "Unless he explicitly threatened someone or admitted to criminal activity, they won't do anything."
Camie shifted on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. "What about telling Aizawa-sensei? He might want to know if Stain sympathizers are specifically picking up UA students."
That gave me pause. If the driver had deliberately accepted our ride request because we were from UA, it suggested a targeted interest that went beyond casual curiosity. Given the recent attacks on heroes and hero students, any unusual behavior warranted scrutiny.
"That might be worth doing," I admitted. "Aizawa-sensei would want to know about potential threats, even if they're just—"
Three sharp, thunderous knocks on our apartment door cut me off mid-sentence. The sudden noise made Mom jump, tea sloshing over the rim of her cup.
"Open up, nerd!" a familiar, explosive voice demanded from the hallway.
"Ow! What the hell, old hag?" The angry shout was followed by what sounded distinctly like a smack.
"Watch your language, brat!" A woman's voice, equally loud but more controlled, responded.
Mom's startled expression melted into something between exasperation and fondness. "Oh, for heaven's sake," she muttered, setting her cup down and standing. "I should have known they'd come."
I rose from the couch, recognizing the voices all too well. "I'll get it."
Crossing to the door, I pulled it open to reveal exactly who I'd expected: Katsuki Bakugo stood in our hallway, scowling with one hand rubbing the back of his head. Beside him, looking remarkably similar with her ash-blonde spiky hair and fierce crimson eyes, stood his mother, Mitsuki Bakugo.
"What the hell happened to you?" Katsuki demanded, his eyes raking over me with an intensity that belied his gruff tone.
"Hello to you too, Bakugo," I replied dryly. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."
Mitsuki pushed past her son, immediately wrapping me in a tight hug. Despite her slim frame, she possessed surprising strength.
"You had us worried sick!" she exclaimed, finally releasing me to hold me at arm's length, her sharp eyes examining me from head to toe. "When Inko called from the hospital, I thought—" She stopped herself, shaking her head. "Well, doesn't matter what I thought. You're on your feet, which is more than the news reports suggested."
Katsuki remained in the doorway, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his expression an unreadable mixture of anger and something else. Concern, maybe, though he'd sooner die than admit it.
"Come in," I said, stepping aside. "We were just having tea."
Mitsuki strode in like she owned the place, making a beeline for my mother, who had already risen to greet her friend. The two women embraced, Mitsuki murmuring something I couldn't quite catch that made Mom's eyes well up.
Katsuki lingered at the threshold, seeming uncertain until I raised an eyebrow at him. "You coming in or what?"
His scowl deepened, but he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with unnecessary force. His gaze immediately landed on Camie, who offered a casual wave from her position on the couch.
"Sup, Explosion Boy," she said with a lazy grin.
Katsuki rolled his eyes but didn't press the issue. Instead, he fixed me with that intense stare again. "So? What happened?"
"I overexerted myself," I said simply. "Nothing serious."
"Bullshit." His voice was low enough that our mothers, still caught up in their own conversation, didn't hear. "You were fine during dinner. What changed?"
I ran a hand through my hair, considering my options. No good time like the present to start the narrative, I supposed.
"Well," I said, rubbing the back of my neck, "apparently, according to Recovery Girl, it looks like I've had a quirk awakening."
Katsuki's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Mom and Mitsuki paused their conversation, turning toward us. Mitsuki's sharp gaze bounced between her son and me, picking up on the sudden tension.
"Language, Katsuki," she said, but her rebuke lacked its usual fire. Her attention fixed squarely on me.
"A quirk awakening?" Katsuki's voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "You've been quirkless your whole life."
"I know." I kept my voice level, watching his reaction carefully. "That's what makes it an awakening rather than just development."
Katsuki's hands curled into fists, small pops erupting from his palms. "You're telling me you just suddenly developed a quirk after fifteen years? That's not how it works."
"Actually," Mom interjected, stepping closer, "Recovery Girl says it's rare but not unheard of. Sometimes trauma or extreme circumstances can trigger a dormant quirk."
Camie nodded, setting her phone aside. "It happens. My cousin didn't manifest her quirk until she was twelve. Doctors thought she was quirkless until suddenly—bam!—telekinesis."
Katsuki's gaze never left my face. "What's your quirk then?"
I hesitated, considering how to explain something I barely understood myself. "It's... an enhancement type. Strength amplification, basically. But it manifests as green lightning around my body."
"That's why you collapsed," he said, the pieces clicking together in his mind. "You lost control of it."
"More or less." I sat back down on the couch. "Recovery Girl thinks my body wasn't ready for the strain."
"So what—you're just suddenly super strong now?"
"Not exactly. I can only safely use about one to two percent of its full potential right now." I flexed my hand, remembering the sensation of power coursing through me. "Any more and I risk damaging my body."
Mitsuki moved to the kitchen, retrieving two more cups without asking. She poured tea for herself and Katsuki, though I doubted he'd touch it. She'd known our kitchen layout since before I was born.
"How long have you known?" Katsuki asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
"Just since yesterday. Recovery Girl discovered it while treating me."
"And you didn't think to fucking tell me?"
"… Are you fucking stupid? I literally just woke up from a coma, Katsuki," I said, using his first name deliberately. "I haven't told anyone except Mom, Camie, Hitomi and Momo and that's only because they were there when Recovery Girl explained it."
Mitsuki handed her son a cup of tea, which he took automatically, his eyes never leaving mine. "So what now? You going to start using this quirk in class?"
"I don't have much choice. It's already manifested. Recovery Girl says suppressing it would just make it harder to control."
Katsuki set the untouched tea on a side table with enough force that some sloshed over the rim. "Convenient timing. Right after you won the Sports Festival without a quirk."
"Katsuki," Mitsuki warned, but he ignored her.
"I didn't ask for this," I said quietly. "And I didn't need it to kick your ass."
Katsuki's eyes widened fractionally before narrowing again, his jaw tightening. For a moment, I thought he might actually attack me right there in my living room.
Instead of attacking, Katsuki did something that caught me completely off guard. He laughed. Not his usual mocking snicker, but a full-throated, genuine laugh that made both our mothers stare at him like he'd grown a second head.
"You think that changes anything?" He wiped at his eye, his laughter tapering off into that familiar grin. "So you've got a quirk now. Big fucking deal."
"Katsuki!" Mitsuki snapped, but he waved her off.
"No, no, let me finish." He stepped closer, looming over me where I sat on the couch. "You think I give a shit if you've got some fancy lightning quirk? I was gonna surpass you anyway."
I blinked, genuinely surprised by his reaction. "You're not... mad?"
"Oh, I'm fucking furious," he clarified, but the rage didn't reach his eyes. Instead, there was something else there—a burning, focused intensity. "But not because you've got a quirk. Because you didn't tell me first, asshole."
Camie snorted beside me. "Priorities, much?"
Katsuki ignored her, jabbing a finger at my chest. "Listen up, Izuku. I don't care if you can shoot lightning or breathe fire or turn into a fucking dragon. I'm still gonna be number one. I'll just work harder."
The declaration hung in the air, as straightforward and unyielding as the person who'd made it. I felt a smile tugging at my lips.
"You're something else, Bakugo."
He scoffed, finally picking up the tea he'd set down and taking a deliberate sip. "Obviously."
Mom and Mitsuki exchanged glances, some of the tension bleeding out of the room. Mitsuki shook her head, a rueful smile on her face.
"Well, that's one way to handle it," she said, moving to sit in the armchair opposite my mother's. "So, this quirk—what exactly can you do with it?"
"Not much yet. It amplifies my physical abilities, but I can only use a tiny fraction of its power safely."
"Hmph." Katsuki crossed his arms. "Sounds like you've got a lot of catching up to do."
"Years worth," I agreed. "My body isn't conditioned for quirk use like yours is."
Something flickered across his face—a hint of satisfaction, perhaps, at the acknowledgment that he still had an advantage.
"Good," he said. "Wouldn't be any fun if you mastered it overnight."
Camie leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "So you're saying you want him to get stronger?"
"Of course I do," Katsuki snapped, as if she'd asked the most idiotic question imaginable. "What's the point of being the best if your competition is weak? I want to crush him at his strongest."
I couldn't help but laugh at his twisted logic. "I'm touched, Bakugo. Really."
Bakugo drained his tea in one long gulp, setting the cup down with more restraint than I expected.
"Anyway," he said, pushing off the couch, "just don't die before I get a chance to beat you with this new quirk of yours."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Mitsuki rolled her eyes, gathering her purse. "Such heartwarming friendship. You boys really know how to express yourselves."
Mom chuckled, rising to walk them to the door. "They've always had their own language."
"A language of grunts and explosions," Mitsuki agreed, pulling me into another quick hug. "Take care of yourself, Izuku. And keep an eye on that brat of mine at school."
"I heard that," Katsuki called from the doorway.
"You were meant to," she fired back without missing a beat.
After a few more minutes of goodbyes and promises to have dinner together soon, the Bakugos finally left. The apartment felt suddenly quiet in their absence.
"Well," Mom said, collecting the empty teacups, "that went better than expected."
Camie stretched languorously on the couch. "Explosion Boy's got layers. Who knew?"
"I did," I said softly, then stood up. "I think I'll head to my room for a bit. Need to make some calls."
Mom nodded, understanding in her eyes. "Don't push yourself too hard, honey."
I kissed her cheek before heading down the hallway to my bedroom, Camie blowing me a kiss as I left. Once inside, I closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.
My phone felt heavy in my hand as I pulled it out. Two calls needed to be made – one to Hitomi and one to Momo.
The question was: who to call first?
======
Puts down coffee mug and adjusts comfy Stitch onesie
Hey everyone! Wisteria here, sneaking in at the end of this chapter because, well, I couldn't resist! First off, can we talk about how amazing you all have been? The love and support you've shown Lycoris has been absolutely incredible. He's been in a bit of a funk lately (don't even get me started on the wasp incident - let's just say he now has a very personal vendetta against anything with stripes and wings), but seeing your responses really brightens his day.
Pulls hood up, Stitch ears flopping adorably
Speaking of Lycoris, I have some exciting news to share! You know how he's always dropping these amazing little narrative nuggets in his reviews? Well, he's finally taken the plunge and started writing his own original story! It's called "Aspect Ratio" and squeezes pillow in excitement I'm so proud of him for putting himself out there!
By the time you're reading this, the first five chapters should be available. I know, I know, I'm basically being his cheerleader here, but can you blame me? Have you seen his writing?
Adjusts glasses that have slipped down nose
I really hope you'll give it a shot if you have the time. He was on the fence about publishing it - you know how writers can be, always second-guessing themselves. But then he just decided to go for it because, as he put it, "you only live once!" (Though between you and me, I think he was tired of me pestering him about it.)
Curls up in writing chair, pulling knees to chest
It's funny, isn't it? How we can get so caught up in our heads about taking chances? But sometimes you just need to put yourself out there, whether you're a quirkless kid dreaming of being a hero, or a talented writer finally sharing their original work with the world.
Glances at manuscript pages scattered across desk
Oh! And before I forget - thank you all for the amazing feedback on this story so far. Your theories, reactions, and enthusiasm make all the late-night writing sessions worth it (even if my Stitch onesie is permanently stained with coffee now).
Yawns and reaches for coffee mug
Anyway, I should probably let you get back to wondering who Izuku's going to call first. Hitomi or Momo... grins mischievously That's quite the dilemma our boy's got himself into, isn't it?
Remember to check out "Aspect Ratio" if you can! Let's show Lycoris some love and prove that taking chances pays off!
Pulls Stitch hood over eyes dramatically
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go make more coffee and figure out how to torture- I mean, challenge our characters next. Plus Ultra!
Love,
Wisteria 💜
P.S. Don't worry, Lycoris is fine after the wasp incident. Mostly. He just... really hates yellow and black stripes now.