Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Tenko’s eyes snapped open he instantly knew where he was. There was just one problem; it was not where he had gone to sleep. The dusty, yellowish, stained ceiling above him instantly awoke an itching across his skin. A familiar feeling washed over him, somewhere between vaguely ill, unnaturally calm, and deep seated agitation as he gazed around the familiar darkened room. This was far from the first time since he had dreamed that he was back in the bar where he was raised, but it was always an unpleasant, anxiety-inducing experience.

Tenko pushed back the covers and stood up from the mattress that occupied the floor in one corner of the room. As he always did in these dreams he made for the door, desperate to leave this place. Tenko turned the handle and padded down the hallway on soundless feet. He listened and watched for other figures moving about the bar, trying to decipher what unpleasantness his dreamscape had conjured tonight.

Tenko crept to the end of the hallway, then carefully into the main room of the bar. He first glanced at the bar, instinctively expecting the shadowy, yellow-eyed figure that usually greeted him there, but it was empty. As his gaze panned around to the booth that sat in the corner at one end of the bar, he locked eyes with someone else.

The man was not outwardly threatening. He was short and bespectacled, sporting a bushy, graying mustache. Yet his presence made Tenko’s skin crawl. He just never felt right around the doctor. And, fine, perhaps he was creeped out by the man and his experiments.

“Dr. Ujiko,” Tenko spoke the obvious in surprise– the man hardly ever made a physical appearance outside his labs. Well, I suppose this is a dream, stupid. The man did not wait for Tenko to speak further

“Ah, Shigaraki,” he said, smiling broadly, “how are you feeling, my boy?” Tenko could almost believe the man’s personable facade, if he didn’t know about the manic glee the doctor contained just beneath the surface.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” he replied. I’m so fucking done with this stupid nightmare . Tenko braced himself, preparing to walk past the man and exit the bar. Perhaps he would get lucky, and be able to lucid dream for long enough to escape this place. The doctor gazed at him for a second, then sat forward, clasped his hands on the table in front of him and asked,

“Is this where you went to sleep, Tomura?” Tenko was done with this. He hated his psyche. Why couldn’t he have random, nonsensical dreams like a normal person? Hell, why did he have to sleep at all? He didn’t want to deal with his nightly bullshit! 

“No, because I’m still asleep!” he growled, “And I really don’t feel like dealing with my dreamscape bullshit!” He partly felt stupid, as he was yelling at his own psyche, but if that wasn’t a metaphor for his life then, truly, what was? The doctor tilted his head downwards slightly, making a ‘hmmm’ sound as he did so. Then he spoke,

“I believe our experiment has been a success. Tommy, if you would?” Tenko only then realized that the doctor was talking to a small Nomu, perched in the corner of the room behind Tenko. In the dark, all he could see were its eyes and the faint glimmer of light bouncing off of its slimy exposed brain. If that wasn’t creepy enough, its eyes started to glow. Then it blinked, and a beam of light shone across the room, and the image of All for One appeared, standing next to Ujiko’s booth.

“Sensei,” Tenko breathed on instinct, taking an involuntary step backwards. He felt for the escrima stick that he kept on his waistband, only to realize that he was dressed only in his Minecraft themed pajamas. Thanks alot Touya. Now I’m gonna die wearing fluffy creeper pants. Not my fault they’re comfortable. Tenko then reminded himself that he was not going to die because this was, in fact, a dream. Still, he could not force himself to relax from his fighting— definitely not cowering— stance.

“Hello Tomura,” All for One’s smooth voice sounded exactly as Tenko remembered. He tilted his faceless head to the side. “Hmmm, is that even what I should call you?” He didn’t wait for Tenko to answer. “Tell me, do you have the quirk?” Shit, how could he know? Shut up, it’s a nightmare, remember stupid.

“What quirk?” Tenko growled, hoping to sound intimidating. If All for One could have raised an eyebrow, Tenko was sure he would have. The man’s next words were spoken in a flat tone,

“You know exactly which quirk, Tomura.” he said, “Now come on, how about a demonstration? It’s been a few months since I’ve seen One for All in person.”

“No way in hell, old man.” Tenko growled, backing up towards the staircase he had come down. 

“Interesting,” Ujiko piped up from his booth, “of course it makes sense, given that alternate circumstances would have had to transpire, but I hadn’t considered.” All for One wasn’t listening. His mouth twisted downwards.

“Don’t be difficult, Tomura,” he said in a harder tone, “this doesn’t have to be an ordeal. Just show me the quirk. What harm could it do?” Tenko growled, hunching further and backing up another step. “Tomura.” The man snapped. Danger. It rang out like an instinctive signal through Tenko’s very bones. All for One stepped in Tenko’s direction. Once. Twice. As he raised his foot to take a third step, Tenko bolted. He turned tail and ran up the stairs.

“Tommy! Restrain him!” The doctor shouted as Tenko ran. He heard the scrabbling of claws on the bar’s wooden floor behind him, motivating him to run faster. Tenko knew the layout of the bar in his sleep, which was probably what saved him. He hung a sharp left, just as he felt a clawed hand grasp at his ankle, and threw open the door.

Inside was clearly a bedroom, but Tenko was more focused on the window. He leapt onto the bed, which rested directly beneath said window, barely registering the grunt of pain that he elicited from beneath the sheets. He pushed with all his might, propelling himself off of the bed, and stretching both hands out, feeling the glass dissolve underneath his fingertips as he sails through the window.

Shards rain down with Tenko from where the window had shattered when his quirk had not yet created a wide enough hole, but Tenko didn’t care. He was more preoccupied with his freefall towards the concrete. He twisted in midair, grasping for the wall of the building he had just so gracefully vacated. He slapped a hand against it, decaying an indentation in the wall as he fell. He was falling faster than his quirk worked, so he felt his hands scrape along decaying bricks as he clung to the wall. The moment he had slowed down slightly, and created a deep enough handhold, Tenko withdrew his pinky finger.

He slammed to a halt, grasping the wall with all his might, and nearly yanking his shoulder out of his socket. He didn’t give himself longer than a moment to recover. He found holds for his other hand and feet in the chipped mortar of the old bricks. Once he was no longer in immediate danger of falling, he looked around for his escape route.

A small corner of his brain reminded him that this was all a dream, and his panic was completely unwarranted, but it was drowned out by the rest of his brain urging him to run.

He was only about a story up, but there was the tiled roof of a small awning on the building across the street, and next to it, just a short leap away, was a fire escape. Running on pure instinct and fear, Tenko braced himself against the wall, and drew on the power within him, feeling it easily rise above the dam he usually kept it behind, and flood his body. He twisted and leapt, landing on the awning roof. He momentarily scrabbled on the slippery tiles, but as soon as he regained his footing he leapt for the fire escape, grasping the top rung of a railing and hauling himself over. He wasted no time sprinting for the roof.

He heard a commotion from the window he had come through, but he didn’t spare a backward glance. He just hoped that this particular nomu couldn’t fly.

Tenko felt slightly calmer as he sprinted onto the building’s roof. He ran across the rooftop, mentally selecting his landing point, and barely pausing as he reached the edge. He landed on the next rooftop, rolled, regained his footing, and kept running. He leapt over guardrails, dodged clotheslines, and practically flew from building to building. He didn’t hear clawed feet behind him anymore, but he still kept running.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Tenko saw movement. He registered a blur of a man leaping down from a rooftop in Tenko’s direction. Then, Tenko felt the strength he had drawn up from inside of him dissipate. His quirk had disappeared, which could only mean one thing. Shit.

As Tenko turned tail and began running in the opposite direction, he was acutely aware of the rip in the knee of his pajama pants from his tuck-and-roll maneuver earlier. Safe to say, he was not dressed for fighting, particularly not someone as deadly as Eraserhead.

Knee throbbing slightly, and hand scraped from his fall, Tenko for the first time registered that this was all too real to be a dream. That raised an entire host of questions in the ‘What the fuck is going on?’ category, but Tenko didn’t have time to dwell on that. Mostly, that made him more desperate to evade Eraserhead. I cannot fucking die here tonight . 

It was a losing battle though. Without his quirk, and in bare feet and pajamas, Tenko was severely outmatched. He was gasping for air at this point, still willing his legs to move faster when he heard a body land just behind him on his current rooftop. He judged that he still had maybe 10 meters on the man, if that. He needed to find something to fight with. What could he find up here? Naturally he had picked the most desolate, useless rooftop within a mile radius—-

Tenko’s thoughts were cut short when he felt cloth wrap around his torso, pinning his arms to his side.

Chapter Text

The cloth constricted around Tenko yanking him backwards off of his feet. He landed hard on his butt. His hands scrabbled at the concrete beneath him, and he tried, in vain, to pull at the bandage-like strips that ensnared him. Without his quirk, however, it was no use. Still, he continued thrashing in an effort to free himself. I cannot die up here. I cannot die up here. Focus.

He abated his random squirming, and pushed against the concrete as well as he could with his bound hands, twisting his shoulders while pushing off, trying to use the momentum to turn himself around to face the man. His first attempt failed, but midway through his second try the force of the binding shifted, spinning him around so he was fully facing the villain who had him captured.

Maybe this is a nightmare after all. Tenko briefly thought (read: hoped). But the threat and the fear was too real. It wasn’t the feverish, all-consuming, nonsensical terror that plagued him on his worst nights. Tenko was scared to be sure, but something about the situation was simply too real and solid, even if it was still entirely disorienting. So much was unexplained and wrong.

The villain’s glowing red eyes glared down at him. Tenko could see he was holding whatever binding cloth that had ensnared him. He’d never seen a weapon quite like it before. The rest of the cloth, which was, frankly, an absurd length, was draped around Eraserheads neck and shoulders. The hell is this? Tenko wondered, Since when did the bastard level up? Tenko quelled his errant thoughts, forcing himself to focus. This was bad, and Tenko knew that if he didn’t find a way to escape, he would die on this rooftop. You’re probably dead regardless, the helpful voice inside his head whispered. Tenko mentally told the voice to kindly shut the fuck up.

“I said, don’t move!” Eraserhead shouted, still glaring down at Tenko. “I won’t hesitate to do whatever I have to.” The man practically growled the final words, hands tightening their grip around the binding cloth. Tenko pushed down his panic, and slipped on his well-practiced persona.

“Come to end your career, Eraserhead?” he smirked up at the villain.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Shigaraki?” Eraserhead growled back. Tenko repressed the instinctive flinch. Instead he grinned, meeting the man’s glowing eyes with a burning gaze of his own.

“Only that if you kill me here, on this rooftop, in front of all these security cameras, then you’ve as good as signed your death warrant. Only that if you kill me, I can think of several very dangerous people who will go to the ends of the earth to kill you. You know who I’m talking about, don’t you? And you know that you’re no match for them.” Eraserhead only continued glaring. Tenko could see the tears welling in his eyes, a sure sign that the man was nearing his limit, and would soon have to blink. If this had been a few years ago, Tenko would have braced for his opportunity. Now, he barely paid it any mind, knowing that it didn’t matter anymore. He continued talking. “You’ve only lived this long because most of them are kind enough to want you alive. Once you kill me, well, let’s just say that there are limits to their heroism.”

As Tenko talked, he carefully studied Eraserhead. He watched as the man finally had to blink, but Tenko didn’t try to use his quirk, knowing that Erasure had long since grown to linger long enough that Eraserhead could reactivate his quirk before the effect broke. But as Tenko continued his desperate stalling method while gazing into those glowing, blood red eyes, he began noticing odd details.

Eraserhead was scowling at him. The fury was nothing new, but there was no trace of the manic smile that usually adorned his features. His hands were wrapped around the binding cloth in plain view, yet Tenko couldn’t see the glint of those deadly black talons. He also was not yet disemboweled, which he was fairly certain wasn’t due to the excellency of his stalling tactics. One final detail cemented Tenko’s suspicion; behind Eraserhead’s glowing red irises, his sclera were a normal red-tinged white, and not black like he knew them to be.

“Not even their pity will keep you safe…” Tenko’s rant stalled as the realization hit him. This was not Eraserhead. So who the hell am I dealing with? “Who the hell are you?” Tenko growled at the imposter, sitting farther forward, switching gears completely. Why would anyone choose to wear that man’s face? The man’s eyebrows scrunched momentarily in confusion before he resumed his hateful glaring.

“I’m not sure what you’re playing at Shigaraki, but unlike you I’ve got backup arriving any minute now.” If possible, not-Eraserhead tightened his grip on the strange capture tape even further. Tenko mentally searched for something to say, some way to fight back, something to negotiate for, but at this point he didn’t even know who his captor was, let alone what he wanted. Tenko’s recalibrations ground to a halt when he spotted a figure rapidly approaching from another rooftop. They leapt to the rooftop where Tenko and not-Eraserhead were, and sauntered up to stand just behind not-Eraserhead, joining him in glaring town at Tenko. Her obvious disapproval, hatred even, felt like lead in Tenko’s gut.

Midnight. Why the hell was she working with this not-Eraserhead? He knew she had been friends with the real Eraserhead when they were at UA together, but that had never been enough to turn her before. Tenko trusted her, even if they were little more than occasional coworkers. What the absolute fuck is going on? Tenko’s head was spinning with the absolute lack of sense throughout this entire situation. It took him a moment too long to realize that his head had also begun spinning for another reason. Stupid, you should have prepared for her quirk instantly. Then again, what could I even do?

Tenko was powerless against the lavender fumes that rose from her skin. He tried to hold his breath, already feeling the drowsiness tug at his brain, and knowing that there was no way out. Still, he fought the gas all the way into unconsciousness, brain still fruitlessly trying to puzzle out what exactly was happening.

Chapter Text

Tenko blinked slowly, squinting into the harsh light that seemed to have a personal vendetta against his retinas. He was incredibly groggy, and sluggish in a way that made the paranoid part of his brain begin to panic. He was basically defenseless like this. Wake up. Consider your damn surroundings! It was the product of years worth of threatening situations, not to mention the countless strategy drills forced upon him by a certain principle. That fucking rat…

Forcing himself to see past the offensive light, Tenko gazed around the room. Frankly, there wasn’t much to see. It was a stark room with white walls and fluorescent lighting. With the aftereffects of Midnight’s quirk still in his system, the room felt like a poorly-rendered opening scene in an indie horror game. That vibe alone set Tenko on edge. His heart rate, which was already climbing, only increased more swiftly as he realized that he was in what could only be a police interrogation room.

With that realization the world around him began to feel more real. Tenko took stock of his surroundings, noticing that he was chained to the table in front of him. What were unmistakably quirk-canceling cuffs were shackled his wrists. He shifted in his chair, which notified him of the restraining belt around his torso and the shackles that bound his legs to the chair. He was stripped of his quirk, immobilized, and chained up in what he fervently hoped was a police station, and not some wacko villain lair, for fuck knows what reason. Yeah, he’s pretty stressed out. 

Still, Tenko knows instinctively that this is not the time to panic. This is the time to compose himself and figure out what in hell is going on here. So he takes a deep breath, and locates the door, which is on the wall opposite to him. Next to it is a large, rectangular mirror that starts about seventy or eighty centimeters off of the floor and takes up most of the remaining space on that wall. Tenko knows without checking that it is almost certainly one way glass. The rest of the room is barren. It’s mostly clean, but there are spots of grime in the corners of the room where the walls meet the floor, and discolorations in a few of the ceiling tiles that give away the fact that this building isn’t exactly new. It looks incredibly similar to the station that lies nearest his typical patrol route.

As far as he can tell, he is unharmed, but the itching– ever-present but usually manageable– roils fiercely across his skin. The itching is no doubt exacerbated by his anger and confusion. His hands twitch with the urge to scratch, but they are bound securely to the table. 

Tenko sits back in his chair, making himself as comfortable as he can, and proceeds to glare at the one-way glass. He can only hope somebody is on the other side, on the receiving end of his glare. He tries to look pissed, which he is good at, and slightly bored, which is a little harder but Tenko thinks he manages. His ‘calm and threatening’ look is probably undermined by his, now ripped, fluffy creeper patterned pajama pants and minecraft cat shirt, but hey, he’s working with what he’s got right now.

He’s just starting to wonder when somebody is going to come in and tell him what is going on— Surely they’re watching me. What the hell are they keeping me waiting for? — when a man in an officer’s uniform enters the room, trailed by two others who Tenko instantly recognizes. The party all sits down in front of him, and for a moment, nobody speaks.

Tenko’s attention instantly snaps to not-Eraserhead. The man is glaring at Tenko but not with the manic, trigger-crazed fury that Tenko is used to seeing from Eraserhead. He looks angry, furious even, but he also looks sane , which is a stark contrast from any Eraserhead that Tenko knows. That guy has to be a fake. What other explanation is there? But even if Tenko was right, that conclusion raised another host of questions.

Midnight is sitting next to Eraserhead, glaring at Tenko with almost equal fury. Over the years of being taught by Midnight, and eventually working under her agency, Tenko has gotten to know her well. He knows that she used to be friends with Eraserhead– and Mic for that matter– before, well, everything, but he also knows that she hat not gotten on board the crazy train that her two former friends had taken. She should be arresting Eraserhead (and possibly cussing him out), so why were they here sitting in the same room like allies? And why am I the one in chains? Tenko was jerked out of his contemplation– which was, admittedly, getting him nowhere– when the officer cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Shigaraki-san,” he began, “I am Detective Nagano. With the office of Downtown Musutafu. I have some questions I would like to ask you this evening.” The man spoke clearly and professionally, but he shifted in his seat, betraying some sort of apprehension. Tenko regarded the man with the same indifferent annoyance that he had directed at the glass. Let it be known that I am pissed.

“Great. I have some questions for you as well.” Tenko replied stiffly. The man hesitated, then proceeded to continue without acknowledging Tenko’s statement. Rude.

“I am required to inform you that this entire conversation will be recorded.” The man started, pulling a recorder from his pocket and setting it on the table. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Tenko replied testily, ready to skip past this particular cutscene.

“Excellent. First, will you please identify yourself for the record?” Tenko hastily complied, itching to get a chance to set the record straight and finally figure out just what the hell was going on.

“Shimura Tenko, hero named Dust: the Decay Hero.” There was a beat of silence. Not-Eraserhead and Kayama-san glanced at each other with unreadable expressions. Finally, the detective spoke again.

“Please include all major aliases, past and present.” The detective amended. Tenko sighed and acquiesced. It’s not like they won’t know this already.

“Until about six years ago I was known exclusively as Shigaraki Tomura.”

“And you’ve stopped going by that name?” The detective asked disbelievingly.

“What do you think?” Tenko Deadpaned. Midnight, not-Eraserhead, and Detective Nagano are all staring at him now

with a mixture of anger, disbelief, and confusion. Tenko is only growing more lost as the interrogation progresses. At least those bastards looked confused, too.

“Shigaraki-san—” the detective continued before Tenko cut him off.

“ Shimura” Tenko growled. “I told you that already, dumbass. I haven’t gone by ‘Shigaraki’ since I was sixteen. Literally all of my legal documentation is under Shimura Tenko, so I’d think it would be easier for you to use that one. Look it the fuck up and get it the fuck right.” Tenko let his frustration boil over briefly. Okay, calm down, you still need to act like the mature adult you definitely are.

“Fine then, Shimura-san,” the detective continued, somewhat haltingly, “Are you aware of the charges against you that resulted in your arrest?”

“No.” Tenko growled. “By all means, please fucking explain. I would love to know why a known villain tied me up and took me to a police station in the middle of the night.”

“Known villain?” the cop questioned. Tenko used his bound hands as best he could to gesture at the man who sat between Midnight and the detective.

“Eraserhead, dumbass.” Tenko drawled, “Although I’m pretty damn certain that’s not really him, for obvious reasons.” He turned his head to look Midnight in the eyes. “Kayama-san, are you trying to fool me or something? If so, why would you think that ,” he gestured with his head at not-Eraserhead, “would work, when I’ve been personally overseeing his case for well over a year?” Midnight opens her mouth to say something, hesitates for a moment, shuts it, and then shoots not-Eraserhead a confused look. For yet another long moment, everyone sits in silence.

“Mr. Shimura,” the detective finally continues, “Eraserhead is not a villain, and you are certainly not a pro hero.” That makes something twinge in Tenko’s chest, and he lets himself really lose his cool for the first time during this whole ordeal.

“You bet your ass I fucking am!” he yelled, jerking forward as much as he could considering all the restraints. “My license number is XXX-XX-XXXX, look it up dumbass. I don’t know what the hell you are on about, but that’s literally my fucking occupation wether either of us likes it or not.” Tenko holds the detective’s gaze, eyes burning. To the detective’s credit, and to Tenko’s ever-increasing annoyance, he barely reacts to Tenko’s outburst, after initially flinching back.

“It would not seem so, Shimura-san” the Nagano began, seeming vaguely annoyed, “you have been charged with breaking and entering, assault on multiple counts, multiple instances of grievous bodily harm, kidnapping, and many” the man emphasized the word, “counts of murder.” Tenko’s blood ran cold. 

“What?” he breathed, far more quietly than he had been yelling a moment before. His brain buffered for a moment, trying to take in all the information. Are they talking about before….? But— I was already tried for all of that. I was already cleared of all that. They can’t just bring it back up now! A small voice in his head whispered, but what if they can? With everything that’s been going on recently, it wouldn't be hard to…. Tenko told his brain to shut up. Why would the government possibly want to send him to prison now? He hadn’t given them any reason to, had he? Unless, perhaps they thought the bad press he was getting reflected poorly on heroics?

Tenko realized that his heart was racing. He needed to calm down. He was jumping to conclusions, besides, the situation at hand still made no sense. What was this about Eraserhead not being a villain?

“You’re lying.” Tenko growled the words before he realized what they were saying. “I don’t know what you want, or why you’re doing this, but you’re lying.” Excellent. Not desperate at all, me.

“I’m afraid I’m not.” the detective said coolly. Tenko turned to Midnight, feeling slightly desperate now.

“Kayama-san, please, explain to me what is going on? Why is he ” Tenko gestured at Eraserhead, “here and not the one in cuffs? What are all these charges about? Sensei, please, this isn’t fucking funny.” To her credit, Midnight looked perturbed.

“Shigaraki,” she began.

“That is not my fucking name!” Tenko screamed, voice cracking. His heart is pounding in his ears now, and he's starting to feel panicked, and truly trapped . Not-Eraserhead stood up, and the other two in the room tore their eyes away from Tenko to look at him.

“We need to call Tsukauchi,” the man said in a level tone, “and possibly Nedzu.”

“You think he’s telling the truth?” Midnight said, furrowing her brow. She sounded doubtful, but not outright accusatory.

“I don’t know, but I think that something is going on. Unless Shigaraki has some incredible acting skills that he’s been hiding from us all this time, then something is amiss here, and we need to find out what it is.”

“Do you think he’s behind this?” Midnight said, more quietly, as though she was hesitant to even ask the question.

“All for One?” Not-Eraserhead asked. Tenko tensed, snapping his focus to not-Eraserhead. He shrugged slightly, face as deadpan as it had been for nearly the entire interrogation. “I don’t know.” He said tersely, “But it would be illogical to rule out the possibility.” Dread pooled in his gut, as it always did at the mention of the name, and he thought back to the projection of the man he had seen last night. He sat silently as the three exited the room.

__

The room was eerily quiet after that, with nothing but the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights to distract Tenko from his racing thoughts. The interrogation hadn’t cleared anything up, but it had begun to paint a worrying picture. It was clear from the look in all three people’s eyes, especially Midnight’s, that they honestly, truly, believed he was a villain. It was only a matter of time… Something was wrong , not only did his teacher, mentor, and current boss, Midnight, believe that he was a villain, Eraserhead was somehow a hero.

Tenko thought back to the look on the man’s face as he captured Tenko. It was angry, in that sharp, personal, accusatory way that he was used to when he faced Eraserhead, but it wasn’t crazed as it had always been before. And Midnight, she had looked at him with a mixture of reproach, anger, and disgust. The detective had flinched away from him several times, determined and professional, but undeniably nervous. Their faces are burned into his mind’s eye like an overly persistent cutscene. It makes his skin crawl.

Villain. No, monster is more accurate. The itch worked its way up Tenko’s spine until it settled like a familiar iron collar around his neck. His fingers spasmed with the urge to scratch, but he was, obviously, still bound. So the itch continued its march, moving down into his lungs and squeezing his chest until he felt his breath become ragged. Once it was done there it continued its journey throughout his torso, while spreading simultaneously to his head. It crawled up to the point where his neck met his skull, then invaded his ears with static. It tingled up his jaw and his nostrils, then wormed its way behind his eyeballs and settled there, festering. Twisted, hateful, monster! Barely even fucking human. Tenko felt the wrongness pervade his body. He felt like a disgusting, writhing being. Something wholly terrifying, and wholly undeserving of being so much as looked at. Some hero. Why try to be a hero, when your very existence is a punishment to the world?

Tenko didn’t realize that his hands were scrabbling at the table. His nails were scraping against the unyielding surface. He wished for his mask—or anything really— to cover up the writhing wrongness of his face. He wished for free hands, so he could scratch the itch. So he could dig his nails into his skin until the wet stickiness of blood released the fucking crawling beneath his skin. He began digging his wrists into the outside of the cuffs, pressing them against the hard metal and fidgeting. It wasn’t long before they were raw. The pain relaxed him slightly, but it wasn’t enough. Bleed. Make them bleed. Destroy. The words usually formed a susurration in the back of his mind, never truly leaving him, but now they were growing louder. He seized one hand with the other, as best as he could and scratched. It was something, but it wasn’t enough. The itch had awoken, and it would not be quieted.

How long has it been since it got this bad? Tenko wondered with the part of his brain that wasn't full of the staticy, violent, hungry itch. Aren’t the fucking meds supposed to keep it from getting like this? Aren’t they supposed to keep the monster at bay? The last thought was rueful, cynically amused. He really was a beast, wasn’t he? Even the doctors couldn’t keep him sane.

Sane. His panicking mind latched onto that one word, turning it over. Sane. Who was sane? Not him, that’s for sure, but he knew someone was. Now who…. Eraserhead! Eraserhead was oddly sane. Right. Something was wrong. Because he was locked up, because he was a monster— just thinking the word threatened to drag him back down into the itch— and Eraserhead wasn’t. Think. You need to fucking think. Focus, Tenko. What do you know? The voice sounded oddly reminiscent of Kayama-sensei.

In Tenko’s world, he was a hero. In Tenko’s world, he was a sidekick at Midnight’s agency with his boyfriend. He was an investigator. He was working on the Eraserhead and Present Mic case. He was working against All For One. In his world, Eraserhead was a villain. In his world, Tenko was a hero. In his world. The phrase stuck in Tenko’s head. He turned it over and over, focusing to push back the static of the itch. The realization seemed painfully obvious once he made it.

In his world. Somehow, Tenko wasn’t sure exactly how, this was not his world.

Chapter Text

Tenko forced his body to relax as the door to the room swung open again. His wrists were completely raw now, and slowly oozing blood in spots, but his head was so much clearer. He could breathe again too, which was nice.

Three people entered the room, and this time, Tenko recognized all of them. In the lead is Detective Tsucauchi. Tenko relaxed slightly knowing that if anyone can actually help him, it’s probably the detective. It’s not just his lie-detector quirk, it’s also his level head and intelligence that makes him great. His intelligence may be somewhat redundant in this situation however. Eraserhead is back, and perched atop his shoulder, partially buried in the capture weapon is Nedzu. Tenko shivered involuntarily when he realized that the rat was staring directly at him with more animosity than he had ever seen on the creature’s face before. Something about being pinned by a stare that was that intelligent and that hateful was deeply terrifying.

They took their seats across the table from Tenko again, and there was a moment of silence before Tsucauchi broke it.

“Good evening. I am Detective Tsucauchi Naomasa. Before we begin our conversation, I am required by law to inform you that it will be recorded and that my quirk will be used throughout. My quirk is—”

“Lie detector. I know all about it Detective,” Tenko cut him off gruffly, channeling the mess of emotions dredged up by the past few hours into what little remained of his haughty, irritated exterior. “Let's cut to the chase.” The detective considered him for a moment before inclining his head slightly.

“Very well. My first question, then, is how you know of my quirk.”

“I’ve worked closely with you on several sensitive investigations. I’d like to think I’ve got a pretty good handle on your stats by now.” Confusion briefly flickered across the detective’s face, but he didn’t press the issue.

“Alright. What is your name?”

“Shimura Tenko. My hero name is Dust. That hasn’t changed since your other detective questioned me a few hours ago.”

“Have you ever gone by the name Shigaraki Tomura?”

“Yes.” Tenko said. Eraserhead cocked an eyebrow at his lack of explanation.

“Can you please elaborate?” Nedzu spoke up, smiling in a polite way that showed entirely too many teeth to be comforting.

“I was given the name by All For One when I was five. I stopped using it around the age of sixteen.” Nedzu cocked his head.

“Why?” Tenko stared at the table, unwilling to meet those beady eyes.

“I didn’t want to be some NPC created for a specific purpose anymore. My goals were no longer his.” He looked up to find Nedzu’s intense gaze for a moment. Tenko looked away first. The room was quiet for another long moment. Tenko was getting sick of all the silence.

“Can you describe the events leading up to tonight’s arrest please?” Tsucauchi continued. Tenko described waking in the bar where he had spent most of his childhood. He had truly thought it to be just another nightmare; he had plenty about that place after all, but everything was too real. He described Ujiko, the nomu with the projector eyes, and its apparition of All for One. He described being captured by Eraserhead, the villain whose case Tenko had been working on for over a year.

“Villain?” Tsucauchi questioned. Tenko nodded.

“He used to be a pro, and a UA teacher, before he dropped off the map nearly five years ago. Re-emerged as this wacko, trigger-crazed murderer two years later. Him and his friend, Yamada Hizashi, have been pretty much terrorizing Japan ever since.” It felt strange explaining this when said notorious villain was seated across the table, eyebrows slowly traveling up into his hairline.

“And why were you assigned to Eraserhead’s case?” Nedzu questioned. He and the detective seemed to be trading questions at this point.

“Mostly because I suspected All For One’s involvement, and therefore thought I may have valuable perspective.”

“We can discuss that later,” Tsucauchi decided, “are you aware of why you were arrested this evening, Shig– Shimura-san?”

“I’ve been told it’s because I am supposedly a villain,” Tenko scoffed. The detective simply nodded.

“Shigaraki Tomura has been the leader of several of Japan's most disruptive and destructive villain attacks this year. He was charged with leading the attack on UA’s USJ facility, kidnapping a UA student, involvement in the Kamino ward incident, and multiple other unrelated murders. He is also suspected of involvement in various nomu attacks.” Tenko can feel his eyes go wide.

“That’s all wrong.” He almost whispered the word. “I’ve been tried for all my crimes that occurred while under All For One’s… care. I’m a licensed pro, I-I’m a h-hero, I have friends, I d-don’t know what is going on, but I don’t belong here!” Tenko couldn’t keep the notes of fear out of his voice, and he couldn’t stop the nagging whisper in the back of his head: You knew they’d see through you one day. He felt like that scared fourteen year old kid who had been so afraid to go to jail that he agreed to become the thing he most hated: a hero. The itching has made a resurgence, congregating in his lungs and behind his eyeballs, making his vision turn fuzzy and gray at the edges. Just kill them all and get out of here . His hands twitched again. Tenko could tell that Eraserhead noticed.

“Tsukauchi,” the man grunted, “is everything he’s saying true?”

“It is,” the detective replied, “or at the very least he believes that it is. Shumura-san, what do you mean when you say ‘I don’t belong here?’”

“Everything’s wrong ” Tomura knew his voice had a dangerous, growl-y edge, as it always did when the itch got bad. “Everything’s wrong, but it’s all too real to be a dream, or another damn hallucination. I don’t know where I am but it’s not my world.” Nedzu hummed thoughtfully, ears flicking forward as his gaze brightened.

“There are many instances of reality-altering quirks,” he mused, grinning, “but none quite as comprehensive as what you would be describing. There are also some accounts of reality-traveling quirks, although none have been confirmed.”

“Like different universes?” Eraserhead’s eyes widened slightly.

“Of course,” Nedzu continued happily, “the idea of a multiverse is highly theoretical, but you never can discount anything when it comes to quirks. Tell me, Shimura-san, have you been in any recent situations that may have exposed you to an unknown quirk?” Tenko felt the itch recede slightly as he relaxed his shoulders. Someone was willing to at least hear him out. He thought back to before waking up in the bar. He had felt fuzzy and disoriented when waking up, but he could remember nothing unusual about the day prior.

“I was called to the scene of a villain attack to extricate some civilians from a collapsed building.” He wiggled his fingers slightly. “I often work as a rescue hero. There was one pair of siblings I rescued, two girls, one around six and the other about four. I guess it’s possible one of them could have lost control, or the four year old could have manifested?” Tenko shrugged, thinking hard about what happened next. “Yeah, that’s probably what happened now that I think about it. I was crazy tired afterwards, so I called in early and went home to sleep before my boyfriend got off work or the brats got home from school. Next thing I know I’m fuckin’ here instead." It seemed unlikely, given the fact that the very existence of reality-swapping quirks was unconfirmed, but Tenko didn’t know what else could have happened. Unless… His mind flicked briefly to Ujiko waiting for him in the dark. Nedzu appraised him for a moment.

“That’s a highly interesting story, Shimura-kun, and I’m somewhat surprised to say that I’m inclined to believe it.” He grinned and clapped his paws together. “Reality jumping! What a fascinating possibility, don’t you think?”

“Yes. Fascinating. That’s just what I was thinking. Particularly while I was being tied up, drugged, and dragged to the police station. Fascinating.” Nedzu chuckled, unperturbed.

“Yes, well, of course we apologize, Shimura-kun, although hopefully you can understand the reasoning behind our treatment. Of course, now there is the matter of what to do with you.”

“What do you mean?” Tenko asked warily.

“Well, naturally you can not stay cuffed up here too much longer. However, given the nature of who you are, or rather, who your counterpart is, it seems unwise to simply release you, for your safety and for others! Tell me, Shimura-kun, where did you attend hero school?”

“I went to UA, Nezu-sensei.” Tenko replied.

“Excellent! I certainly hope we did well by you.”

“I suppose.” Tenko said. UA, along with Nedzu and Midnight in particular, was the reason that he was where he was today, but he was still grumpy with this universe’s Nedzu and at the situation in general.

“Anyway, we need to decide where you will be staying. It is my proposal that you should return to UA with Aizawa-kun and myself!” Eraserhead stiffened, turning his head to look at the principal (well, as best as he could with said principle still sitting atop his shoulder)

“Absolutely not.” the man growled. “Nedzu, Shigaraki attacked my students, he kidnapped Bakugou and tried to kill both All Might and myself. I don’t want him anywhere near them.”

“Aizawa-kun,” Nedzu said placatingly, “while Shigaraki-san absolutely did those things, it is just as clear to me that Shimura-kun did not. Isn’t it illogical Aizawa-kun, to hold Shimura-kun responsible for the actions of another person?” I swear that rat is smiling.

“I’m not saying we hold him accountable, I’m just saying I don’t want him anywhere near my students. How would I explain that to them anyway? That’s just a recipe for someone to panic and get hurt, or for them to attack Shimura. Does that seem illogical to you, Nedzu-san?”

“I understand your concern, Aizawa-kun, however, I believe that after some short-term turbulence, UA will be the safest option for Shimura-kun. I also believe we can treat this as an opportunity to better get to know what we may be facing when it comes to Shigaraki. After all, there’s a chance that some of the information Shimura-kun can give us may be applicable to our universe as well! We would be remiss not to see this as an opportunity!” Eraserhead— no, Aizawa, Tenko at least agreed with Nedzu about not holding alternate-universe people responsible for their counterparts’ actions— was still scowling, but his shoulders slumped in defeat, knowing as well as Tenko did that arguing with Nedzu was the very definition of pointless. “Well then,” Nedzu continued, “Is that alright with you, Shimura-kun?”

“I guess,” Tenko replied tiredly. “For what it’s worth, Nedzu-sensei and Aizawa-san,” he looked at Tsukauchi as he spoke, “I’m not a threat to your school.”

“Truth.” The detective said quietly, meeting his gaze. Nedzu gave another delighted little clap.

“Excellent! Well then, Detective, would you be so kind as to undo Shimura-kun’s cuffs?” The detective hesitated briefly, but then acquiesced, reaching for the keys. It took a minute to undo the multitude of shackles that had restrained him. They were really worried about me, huh. He momentarily took pride in that. Not a danger, huh? If anything, this proves you’re always a danger. 

Aizawa stood up, and once he was free, Tenko followed suit. He carefully kept his hands at his side, despite immediately having the urge to bring them to his neck and finally scratch that fucking itch. He followed the others towards the door, but paused as he got a closer look at his reflection in the one-way glass.

His hair was wild, his elbows were scraped, and his pajamas were dirty and ripped, but aside from that, he looked exactly as he had the previous evening. Every scar was in its place, everything looked right. Tenko was exactly the same, but the world around him seemingly could not get more different. He was like an alien, an outsider, a monster in a world that wasn’t his. He clenched his hands harder to resist the itch.

“Shimura-kun?” Nedzu called, and Tenko realized that the group had paused when he had stopped. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Tenko replied, still looking at his reflection. At Nedzu’s urging, Aizawa backpedaled into view. Tenko resisted the instinct to turn and face him; he was still not eager to turn his back on the man. Nedzu’s gaze traveled over Tenko’s reflection.

“Fascinating,” the rat murmured. Do all psychotic geniuses speak like this? “Yes, I see it now. Should have spotted it immediately in fact. Perhaps I would have had I seen Shigaraki face to face.”

“What?” Aizawa beat Tenko to the question

“You look remarkably similar to Shigaraki, Shimura-kun,” the rat reached out to point at him and Tenko suppressed a flinch, “yet you are slightly broader, more muscular. Better fed I’m guessing. Your hair appears to be slightly longer, and it's difficult to tell, but I think your skin is in slightly better condition.” I pity the poor bastard who has worse skin than me, Tenko thought. “If we weren’t already sure that is nothing short of definitive proof that you are who you say.” Nedzu sounded as delighted as ever. “Not that I distrust your quirk, Tsukauchi-kun, of course.”

Tsukauchi seemed at a loss for a response. Poor bastard. Tenko always somewhat regretted dragging such a nice, normal man into his batshit shenanigans.

Nedzu, as unflappable as ever, continued, “Of course the question remains as to whether Shimura-kun simply came here, or if he actually swapped places with Shigaraki. Ah, well, I suppose there’s no way to know at the moment. Now, come along, let’s get back to UA so we can sort things out before the school day begins!” Aizawa walked through the door, with Nedzu perched comfortably on his shoulder. The detective followed, and Tenko numbly did the same.

He was in a different universe and there was a possibility a villain was in his home.

Chapter Text

Shit. This was bad. If Shigaraki was as bad as they were saying. Shit, even if he were just like Tenko, only an enemy instead of a friend to his family… This is bad. What will they do if I’m suddenly a monster? What if they don’t even notice? What if they don’t notice until it is too late? Tenko mentally slapped himself. He couldn’t afford to spiral worrying about problems that he had absolutely zero way to address. Besides, he wasn’t even sure Shigaraki was in his universe, let alone his house. Even if he was, surely Touya can take care of himself and the kids. I certainly hope so. He felt a twinge of guilt, leaving him alone with this, but what could he do? 

Tenko remained lost in thought until he felt the car slowing as Aizawa entered a side entrance to UA, which led to a faculty parking lot. He looked around at the part of campus he could see out of the car window; it looked basically identical to the UA in his universe. As Aizawa and Nedzu exited the car Tenko followed suit. He only realized that he had been scratching at his neck when he had to remove his hand from his neck to grab the door handle.  I was further gone than I thought.  

The trio made their way swiftly to Nedzu’s office. Tenko kept his head down and his hands clenched in his pockets, acutely aware of any other people around. He was painfully aware that he was a feared villain walking amongst heroes. He was also increasingly aware of his ragged Minecraft pajamas. He wasn’t sure at the moment which issue was more pressing. Tenko decided that he hated gag gifts, particularly stupidly comfy ones.

Luckily it was still early. The sky was not yet fully light, and as a result Tenko only spotted a couple landscapers, a janitor, and a tired-looking faculty member rushing down the hall in the opposite direction as them. Still, he breathed more easily when they made it to Nedzu’s office.

Once they were all seated, Nedzu began,

“Alrighty then, let’s get you sorted Shimura-san! Classes will begin in approximately one hour and forty seven minutes so let’s not delay.” Aizawa’s shoulders slumped at the mention of classes. Damn, he looks tired. I almost feel bad. “First, we need to figure out exactly what to do with you! Naturally, you will need a place to stay for however long you may remain in our universe. Given Shigaraki’s role in this universe, and your own unfamiliarity with our world, it seems unwise to let you go without some sort of companionage. For your safety of course!” 

“So you don’t trust me.” Tenko sighed. It was probably fair, but it was also annoying. Nedzu tilted his head from side to side.

“I trust that, as you said, you are no threat to my school, but I do not trust in your ability to convince others of that, particularly considering how closely you and Shigaraki resemble each other. You will be far more likely to descalate any situations if you have a trusted staff member alongside you. Therefore, I will ask that you do not go anywhere unaccompanied, at least for this initial period.”

“Fair enough.” Tenko agreed, shrugging. Like I have a choice. The rat turned to face Aizawa,

“Aizawa-kun,”

“No.” Nedzu ignored him,

“Since you are currently my only staff member currently informed of Shimura-kun’s full situation, it would seem logical for you to be his escort, at least for this day.”

“And take him to my class? The one Shigaraki has attacked multiple times? How is that logical?” Aizawa sounded both angry and incredulous. Nedzu, as ever, remained cheerfully calm.

“They will learn of Shimura-kun’s presence on this campus sooner or later. At least this way we can ensure that it is a controlled environment, and not through the rumor mill or a random sighting. Additionally, should anything turn dangerous, I have full confidence that you have the means to control the situation.” Aizawa stared at Nedzu, somehow looking more exhausted with each passing second. His shoulders slumped in defeat. Tenko thought he looked ever closer to slamming his head into the desk.

“Fine.” Tenko turned to Aizawa, who still looked a bit too much like Eraserhead out of the corner of his eye for Tenko to fully relax.

“For what it’s worth, Eraserhead has tried to off me a few times too, so I’m not exactly thrilled.” Tenko commiserated. Aizawa looks like he has several follow-up questions to that, but Nedzu expertly cuts him off,

“Now, as to where you will be staying, it’s actually rather convenient. There’s an extra dorm room directly next to Aizawa-kun’s apartment. It was initially planned as a residence for a secondary faculty member, but that turned out to be unnecessary. Although it’s not a full apartment like Aizawa-kun’s, it ought to work well enough for what I’m certain will be a temporary stay. I will ensure we get you some furniture as quickly as possible.” Excellent, now I’m basically living with him too. A glance in Aizawa’s direction confirmed that the man was equally thrilled about this.” Nedzu clapped his hands. “Alright, I think that settles the main issues! Anything else?” 

Tenko looks down at his hands, which are determinedly fisted in his lap. Beneath them he sees fuzzy little creeper faces. He thinks about the hallways, and the fact that there are probably at least a couple students here by now. He doesn't really feel like trying to pull of the 'create-a-character' randomizer aesthetic today.

“Yeah, actually, can I have some new clothes?”

“Ah! Of course! Silly me! I occasionally forget the nuances of human attire,” More like you wanted to send me out there dressed in my PJs you stupid rat. “UA will provide you with a stipend for your basic needs. I’ll work it out today, and we’ll get you a few supplies sometime this afternoon. Until then,” the rat looks hopefully at Aizawa, who gives up and drops his forehead to rest against the table. Called it.

“Fine,” the man sighs. Perhaps we can bond over the unwinnable boss fight that is Nedzu, Tenko thought ruefully. He stood up, ready to get out of this place and get some new clothes,

“Come on then roomie,” he says in a tone so tired it almost matched Aizawa’s, “let’s go raid your closet.” 

From the look he receives, Tenko thinks Aizawa may throw him out a window.

Chapter Text

Tenko is staring at himself in the mirror, yanking at his tangled hair with Eraserhead’s hairbrush, in Eraserhead’s bathroom, wearing a black hoodie and grey sweatpants that belong to Eraserhead. This is fucking insane . The man had said it was illogical to use one of the dorms' communal bathrooms, lest he run into a student, but still, Tenko couldn’t believe he was in the home of a man who had tried to kill him several times this past year. And he was about to steal his hair tie.

Tenko figured that he had done all he could with his hair for now, so he quickly pulled it into a half-back, snatching one of the numerous hair ties that sat in a little wooden box on the back of the counter. 

He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. Yup, still me. But Shigaraki, the name he had borne for so much of his childhood, played at the edges of his thoughts. He looked at the flaky skin that formed irritated patches near the corners of his eyes and mouth. His blood red irises looked even redder with his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. He bared his teeth in the mirror, examining the crooked bottom row and the way they always looked kind of yellow, no matter how diligently he brushed. He looked crusty, shady even. It didn’t surprise him that he looked just like this world’s Shigaraki; no part of him looked like a hero. Calm down, dumbass, you don’t need to win beauty contests to do your job. Wow, boy to I love my inner monologue, Tenko thought, turning from the mirror.

Exiting the bathroom he found Aizawa waiting for him by the door, looking simultaneously bored, exhausted, and impatient. He was wearing what appeared to be the same clothes as the night before. Was that his hero costume? 'Guess the Aizawas in both worlds had the exact same fashion sense. Which is to say, none. He gave Tenko a once over before digging in his pocket. The man pulled out a slightly crumpled black medical mask, which he held out to Tenko.

“Wear this.”

“Why?” Not that Tenko minded, he often wore a mask on bad days as another layer of protection between him and the world.

“I’d like to make it to my classroom without causing a school-wide panic.” The man sipped his coffee, still glaring at Tenko. I wonder if his quirk training is what made him this good at prolonged eye contact? “It’s too early in the morning for that.” Tenko huffed,

“On that, at least, we agree.” Aizawa’s expression twitched minutely. Tenko couldn’t decipher what the expression was meant to be, and it was gone within an instant. Aizawa turned, and Tenko followed him out of the apartment. As promised, just to the left of Aizawa’s door, there was a door with a blank name plate. As he walks by, Tenko tries the knob and, finding it unlatched, opens the door and tosses his ruined pajamas inside, closing it just as quickly. They probably aren’t good for much besides the dumpster, but he can’t bring himself to get rid of the only thing that proves he has a home somewhere.

—

Tenko keeps his head down as they walk down the hall, Aizawa taking occasional sips of his coffee. However, given that classes were about to start, any students that were still in the hallway were busy getting to their classrooms, and paid the duo no mind. Tenko is not somebody that feels the need to chat constantly; he typically lets Touya do that– well, unless he’s trash-talking while playing video games, he is pretty good at that. But regardless, there was an undeniable awkwardness to this particular silence. Possibly because they have both apparently tried to kill the other. 

“So, uh, what classes do you teach?” At the very least that is probably important information, and not just small talk.  

“Homeroom for class 1-A, and I assist with their heroics lessons. The electives I teach for upper classmen vary year to year. This semester is Investigation, Warrant, and Arrest Law for Heroics for second years. Next semester will be Advanced Undercover for thirds.”

“You sound enthused.” Tenko notes sarcastically.  

“You try teaching hero law. It’s semantics all year long. And my 1-A brats are the biggest trouble magnets I have literally ever met. It’s basically statistically impossible how often they get into life-or-death situations. The thirds are practically sane compared to them, and that’s really saying something.” For a moment, the tension dissipated. Apparently, letting Aizawa rant was the right move. Tenko almost felt bad for him. At least I know why he’s so tired. 

“At least I know most of 1-A, I guess.” Tenko shrugged. He could almost physically feel Aizawa bristle beside him. The man turned his head to look at Tenko more directly.

“How, exactly?” It wasn’t quite a growl, but it was pretty damn close. Whoops, didn’t realize that would strike a nerve.

“Kami, calm down, I just know—” He cut himself off as he realized Aizawa had stopped walking. It took him a second to realize why. They had arrived at the door to class 1-A. Aizawa turned towards him, once again glaring.

“Don’t say or do anything yet, just let me… explain, I guess.”

“Fine.” Aizawa simply turns to the door, and walks inside.

Tenko follows the man in, standing awkwardly against the wall beside the man’s desk. The classroom had instantly gone quiet when Aizawa entered, but as the students took notice of Tenko, whispers began floating around the room. Tenko could feel the pressure of twenty sets of eyes locked on him. This much attention alone made him grateful for the mask. Pull yourself together, they’re literally just kids. Tenko forced himself to stare back, taking in just who all was in this classroom, and sizing it up against this year’s first-years in his world. They were surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly given the ‘parallel’ part of parallel universes, pretty much the same as Shoto’s class back home. There was, however, one obvious exception. Sitting towards the right side, right behind that angry blond kid, was a kid with a mop of green curls that Tenko knew wasn’t in his Shoto’s class.

The kid had prominent freckles and round, bright green eyes that Tenko realized were fixed on him with an almost unnerving intensity. Tenko held his gaze, examining the rest of the boy’s face as he did so. Tenko didn’t know this boy, but there was something oddly familiar about him. You’ve been staring for too long. Long enough, in fact, that a few other students had started to take notice. Tenko could hear their whispers, but…

The boy’s green eyes were staring at him with the exact same level of intensity as Tenko held for him. How do I know you? What do you mean to me? Tenko could practically see almost identical thoughts behind the kid’s eyes, whizzing by at a lighting-quick pace. One, two, three more seconds Tenko held the boy’s gaze, before the rest of the classroom slipped back into focus.

‘-- how he’s staring’, ‘who is that?’ ‘---ey know each other?’ ‘--- Aizawa-sensei’s shirt?’

Tenko jerked his gaze away, trying to focus on the classroom at large. Aizawa said you attacked this class. They’re unpredictable, pay attention. Now is not the time to dissociate whilst holding intense eye contact. Remember, Tenko: mature. responsible. adult. Yep. The whispers cut off abruptly at the same time Tenko whipped his head around, catching a familiar movement out of the corner of his eye. Tenko’s hand automatically shot toward his waistband, where, once again, he remembered that his modified escrima stick wasn’t there. Forcibly, he relaxed his body from the automatic fighting stance he had assumed when he had turned his head to see Eraserhead’s active quirk. 

It wasn’t directed at him, however, but at the class, who had abruptly stopped whispering and were now paying attention to Aizawa. Once every eye was trained on him, Aizawa blinked, and his hair fell back to his shoulders. The man gave his class an exhausted stare before speaking.

“Listen up, hellions,” Tenko’s lips twitched slightly at the moniker. “I certainly hope you’ve noticed that we have a visitor today.” Aizawa made the mistake of pausing long enough to breathe, which gave the invisible girl time to raise her hand and open her mouth.

“Oh! Who is that Aizawa-sensei? Is he part of the lesson today? Will he be part of our heroics training?” She gushed. The pink haired girl chimed in,

“Oh yeah! Is he an underground hero like you Aizawa-sensei? Is that why you’re dressed so similar? I know you mentioned going over different hero specialties soon so is—”

“Hagakure. Ashido. Quiet.” Aizawa didn’t even have to yell. The hint of a growl in his voice and his stern glare shut them up. He gestured vaguely to Tenko with one hand.

“This is Shimura Tenko.” Tenko swore he could hear the class’s attention snap to him. He couldn’t help but feel a little cornered. “He is somewhat of an… unplanned visitor.” Really? Tenko huffed, raising an eyebrow in Aizawa’s direction. Sure, the man was better with words than his universe’s Aizawa– I would hope so based on Eraserhead’s whole trigger-related brain damage thing — but not by as much as Tenko would have hoped. Aizawa sighs, “Shimura, I think that the best way to begin explaining this is by removing your mask.”

Tenko begins to doubt Aizawa’s so-called rationality. Or perhaps he had overestimated Aizawa’s will to keep Tenko alive. The most likely reason is that Aizawa, like Tenko, has no fucking clue how to explain, ‘yes, I brought a mass-murderer and villain into your school, but also not really.’ Well, I guess one of those descriptors is technically true. Tenko hesitates for a moment. Am I more or less likely to die if I make a run for it? Eventually, he decides to comply, hoping that he doesn’t have to disintegrate anyone within the next five minutes. He fixes his eyes on the class, and schools his face into one of vague annoyance and boredom. Slowly, he reaches up and hooks one finger around the mask’s ear loop, then slips it over his ear. He gathers the mask into his hand, feeling the other ear loop slip off, then closes his fist, allowing the small pile of dust to trickle to the floor.

The reaction is immediate. Gasps, a few yelps. Tenko’s pretty sure it’s that freaky purple haired kid who screamed. Half of the class is in a fighting stance. A yellow-haired kid trips while trying to jump up, and goes crashing to the floor. Tenko’s eyes land again on the green-haired boy, who has green lightning crackling along his skin. The boy is staring at him in a mix of determination, and what is undeniably terror. Another student catches his eye: Shoto. He’s staring at him with an ice-cold fury that can’t disguise the fear in his eyes. Something in Tenko’s chest twists, sending a wave of The Itch over his skin. 

Tenko’s attention is drawn away however, as he hears a yell, quickly followed by a blur of blond and the sound of explosions. The kid is quick, but speed has meant life for Tenko since his early childhood.

Tenko twists to face the oncoming threat, just before the kid is on top of him. His right arm is drawn back, palm open and alit with explosions. Tenko sees the move coming. As the kid swings forward, Tenko re-adjusts to launch himself to the side as quickly as he can. As he does so he shoots out a hand to catch the kid’s wrist as it soars past his left ear. He grips tightly, careful to keep his pinky raised, and uses the kid’s momentum to cancel his own and change the kid’s trajectory by ninety degrees. In a flash, Tenko spins around to fully face the kid, shoving the fist of his free hand into his shoulder to drive him back into the wall, and simultaneously pulling his other hand towards him, throwing the kid off balance. For a moment, everything goes eerily still. The kid’s eyes are fixed just to the right of Tenko’s face. Oh. He’s looking at Tenko’s hand, which is clasped around his wrist, pinky carefully raised. Now Tenko is staring at it too.

Just kill him. The thought slides all too easily to the forefront of Tenko’s mind. You could do it before anyone reached you. He did attack first after all. In his mind, Tenko watched as cracks of decay spread up the boy’s arm. The grey cracks, spreading ever-outwards as his skin turned to dust, raced across his body. As they spread, consuming him, they filled with blood. The blood pooled in the cracks as they spread and deepened. It fell in streams to the floor as the tissues that had once contained it dissolved. Glints of white bone appeared before they too turned to dust. The decay raced throughout the boy's body, spreading from the epicenter of Tenko’s hand. Blood and ash mixed on the floor, splashing as they rained to the ground. Tenko could almost taste the small droplets that would splatter far enough to mist his face in blood.

It would take less than ten seconds. The itch surged across his skin, begging for the sweet release of decay. Come on, just kill him. Tenko felt his pinky give the barest twitch. The blonde’s eyes widened infinitesimally. He knooows! Tenko’s psyche sing-songed.

Horror pooled in his gut. Within milliseconds he had pictured this boy’s death from start to finish. Tenko jerked back, releasing his hand. 

Almost at the exact same time Tenko felt cloth wrap around his torso, pinning his arms to his side. It was almost a perfect replication of last night’s rooftop scene, except this time Tenko recognized Aizawa’s capture weapon. This time he relaxed. My quirk would have been canceled anyway, Tenko realized. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m a monster, but oh well.

“Bakugou,” Aizawa said in a tone that waylaid any argument, “Sit down. The rest of you, back to your desks as well.” Tenko was stuck facing the wall for a moment, but he heard a general shuffling as the class presumably retook their seats. The capture weapon around him loosened, and Tenko slowly turned back around. Aizawa was looking directly at Bakugou,

“I’m giving you leniency because of your personal history with Shigaraki.” He fixed his gaze on the class at large, “The same goes for the rest of you, but I need you all to think about this rationally. Panic,” he gestured vaguely at where Tenko and Bakugou’s scuffle had just occurred, “is how people get hurt. So I ask you this, would I bring a dangerous villain into your classroom? Would I knowingly put you in harm’s way like that? I know I handled this introduction poorly, but as I’m giving you lot leniency I’m asking for the same in return. Think about this rationally, okay?” Aizawa’s voice had grown softer throughout his speech. There were soft noises of agreement from about half of the class. Some of the kids threw perplexed glances at each other, and Tenko got the impression that Aizawa didn’t speak this gently to his class very often. The green-haired kid had begun muttering under his breath, eyes fixed on his desk, but regularly glancing nervously in Tenko’s direction. Once most of the class had quieted again, Aizawa spoke,

“Alright, this is a pretty complex situation to explain, so I’ll begin by letting you hellions ask Shimura or me your questions, and then we’ll fill in any blanks afterwards.” Aizawa checked his watch, “We have thirty eight minutes left in homeroom, so use your time wisely.” Coward, you just didn’t know how to explain this shit. Then again, neither do I.

Thankfully, the class was more than ready to ask their questions. A boy with spiky red hair raised his hand.

“Yes, Kirishima-kun?” Aizawa acknowledged.

“Sensei, if he isn’t Shigaraki, then why is he literally identical to him?”

“Because he is technically Shigaraki,” Tenko could feel the tension, if possible, spike even higher, “just from an alternate universe.” More whispers. Tenko doesn’t blame them. That green-haired kid’s muttering was continuing to intensify in its, well, intensity. More hands shot up.

“Iida,”

“Aizawa-sensei! If he is Shigaraki in any capacity, how can you be assured that he is not a threat!”

“And what the heck do you mean, alternate universe?” a girl with purple hair who appeared to have cords dangling from her ears asked.

“One at a time, Jirou,” Aizawa corrected before continuing. “Shimura has been assessed by Nedzu and an officer with a lie detector quirk since I first captured him early this morning. He has told us who he is, and assured us, in direct language, that he is not a threat to the school. I know it seems improbable and convoluted, but the evidence we have so far points to his story being true. Jirou, as to your question about alternate universes, you’ve probably all heard of the concept of a multiverse, or of parallel universes. Of course there’s no proof, and, until today, really only rumored evidence, but Shimura’s case seems rather compelling.”

“I’m a hero.” Tenko interjected, “In my world, that is. I hadn’t heard the name Shigaraki Tomura in years until I wound up getting tangled up on a rooftop this morning.” That did not have the explanatory effect Tenko would have hoped. A blond haired boy with a large tail raised his hand.

“Ojiro,” Aizawa acknowledged. The boy spoke in a measured tone, seemingly less excitable than the previous students who had spoken. He looks directly at Tenko, a mixture of curiosity and suspicion in his eyes.

“So, where had you heard the name Shigaraki before?” I guess this is just Expose My Sordid Past Day. Tenko exhaled and steeled himself,

“That was my name for most of my childhood.” He broke Ojiro’s gaze. He didn’t really feel like explaining further, but he didn’t get the chance to deflect,

“Why did you change it?” Ojiro followed up. Tenko tried to give the briefest answer possible,

“I was born Shimura Tenko. I got re-named as Shigaraki when I was five, then after coming to UA when I was fourteen, the name just… stopped fitting. Shigaraki was someone else’s creation, and I wanted to play as my own character, I guess.” Yet another round of excited whispers. Although one kid’s mutterings stood out among the rest.

“Midoriya,” Aizawa called, “would you like to ask a question?” The green-haired kid— Midoriya, god, that sounds vaguely familiar too— snapped his focus to Aizawa, and then to Tenko. He nodded nervously, and Aizawa inclined his head in permission.

“Um, well, yeah, I mean, Shimura-san, you say you’re a hero, is your quirk still decay? I guess it could be useful for rescue work, which I never really considered before, but it would be a real downside for hero-style fights. You look practically identical to Shigaraki, so it seems likely that our universes would have strong similarities. Do you know our class where you’re from? Shigaraki has attacked us multiple times here… did, have you… I mean, what’s your relationship with class 1-A? Is it like, a total flip, where we’re all villains for you, and everyone we know as villains are the heroes? I-if we’re assuming the whole parallel universe theory is correct then it’s useful to know—”

“Shut up, nerd! If you want answers you have to stop fucking talking.” Bakugou butted in. Midoriya flinched and went quiet, staring at Tenko. Tenko started with the easiest thing,

“Yeah, my quirk is Decay. Anything I touch with all five fingers will turn to dust; living, non-living, all of it. I do some rescue work because, as you mentioned, my quirk is really useful for clearing debris, but I mostly work underground. I specialize in investigative hero work, though I do the typical patrol-type stuff as well.” That was the easy, factual, public , information, now Tenko had to be more cautious with what he shared.

“I do know your class, but mostly just tangentially. I only know a couple of you well.” Well, really just one of you, “but I’ve seen most of you before. And no, you’re not all villains. A couple heroes I’ve met so far in this world are villains in mine,” Tenko artfully skirted around the fact that their teacher was one of them, “but most people seem to be pretty much the same. Your class is practically identical, actually, except for you, Midoriya.”

“What do you mean?” the boy asked tentatively.

“You’re not in class 1-A where I’m from. I’ve never met you before.” Something about that feels wrong, but Tenko can’t come up with what. To Tenko’s surprise, it’s Shoto who asks the obvious next question.

“Then who is in Midoriya’s place?” He has fixed Tenko with his signature deadpan stare, but behind it Tenko can see all the questions Shoto wasn’t asking, and he knew that Shoto had seen Tenko’s eyes linger several moments too long earlier. This question, however, was pretty painless to answer, so Tenko shrugged.

“Some tired-looking purple-haired kid. I don’t really know him.” Midoriya’s eyes lit up in understanding, and Tenko saw a few other brows knit in either confusion or consternation. Frankly, he wasn’t overly interested. This is beginning to feel like the world’s longest, most exposition-y cutscene. Let’s get back to the action already. Really, he just wanted to stop being interrogated. His past, beyond being complicated and probably traumatic, just wasn’t something that tended to endear him to people once he got into the bloody details, and he really didn’t need these teenagers distrusting him any more than they already did. Tenko glanced at the clock as surreptitiously as he could, not wanting to look like he was trying to escape this situation, even though he absolutely was. Thank Kami there are only five minutes left in the period. Unfortunately, it wasn’t close enough to forestall one last question. A girl with brown hair, round brown eyes, and pink cheeks raised her hand. She was still basically glaring at Tenko, which seemed at odds with her kind-looking features. Aizawa called on her and she asked,

“So, what, are the League of Villains, like, heroes in your world?” The girl, Uraraka, asked incredulously. Tenko, for the first time this morning, drew a total blank.

“Who?” There was a beat of silence, before Aizawa stepped in.

“They’re the criminal organization Shigaraki leads. They’ve been responsible for all the attacks on this class.” Guess I’m not the only one who likes to give bare minimum answers then. Tenko went with what he had,

“Um, no? I’m technically a sidekick under Midnight’s agency. I don’t lead shit, let alone a ‘League’ unless you’re talking video games.” Honestly, the idea of Tenko leading an organization like that seemed… chaotic, at best. Perhaps Shigaraki had picked up some leadership skills that had evaded Tenko? Whatever the case, Tenko was saved from wondering— and from being questioned— by the bell signaling the end of homeroom. Tenko repressed the urge to shoo the teenagers out of the room before they could sneak in any last-minute interrogations. The mistrustful, sometimes hostile, glances he received as they packed their bags and filed out made The Itch flair across his skin again. It was clear that they still couldn’t see past Shigararaki. Tenko burned with the need to be alone, to rake his fingernails across his skin until the burn of eyes faded, but he had to settle for a few minutes of relative peace in the classroom with Aizawa. 

“How,” Tenko questioned, turning to Aizawa, “have you made it this far as a teacher when you suck , so badly at explaining things?” Aizawa shrugged, looking tired.

“There isn’t an explanation in the world that could stop Bakugou from punching first, asking questions later. I just took the path of least resistance.” 

“You,” Tenko concluded, “are a terrible person.” Aizawa, for the first time since Tenko had met him, grinned. It was terrible. Honestly, was the man trying to look uncanny?

“Fucking hell, maybe you should try trigger. Even my Eraserhead’s Joker-looking grin looks more normal than that.” Aizawa snorted, already reverting to his tired deadpan. Tenko got the distinct impression that the man was messing with him. 

“Get ready to do it all over again, my first batch of second-years is next. They don’t know you personally, like 1-A, but your face is definitely infamous.” At least I won’t know them. Tenko thought. At least I won’t have to deal with Shoto staring at me like that. It would hopefully make him itch a whole lot less, even if he still had to deal with everyone thinking he was Shigaraki. Tenko leaned against the wall, then slowly slid down it to reach a sitting position, knees to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his knees, grasping his elbows, carefully keeping his pinkies raised so he didn’t end up shirtless, and rested his chin on his knees, fixing his eyes on a slightly crooked chair leg towards the back of the classroom. Acting like a normal, functioning adult hadn’t really worked, so if he was gonna be interrogated until he seemingly died a natural death, he might as well sulk while doing it.

Chapter Text

Tenko jolted as someone touched his shoulder. He whipped his head to face them, coming back to himself in time to catch the tail end of his name.

“ —mura,” Aizawa said, staring down at where Tenko was still sitting in his hunched position, “That was the bell. Come on, let’s go.” 

It was the end of Aizawa’s second (and thankfully last), period of ‘Investigation, Warrant, and Arrest Law for Heroics,’ apparently. Thankfully, the second years had been calmer than Aizawa’s homeroom, since they didn’t have personal experience with Shigaraki, but Tenko had still surpassed his daily limit for interrogations and mistrustful glances. At some point after Aizawa wrangled his class’s attention back to the lesson at hand, Tenko had decided to just check out. It made the time pass much more quickly. Aizawa shot Tenko a glance as he stood up. Damn I’m stiff. How long was I sitting like that? Two-ish hours, I think? The man momentarily looked like he wanted to ask Tenko something, but instead he turned to the classroom door, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Walking through the hallways was infinitely worse than it had been this morning. News had clearly spread throughout the whole school, and the staring had become absolutely incessant. Tenko was pretty sure the only two reasons they hadn’t been waylaid by curious questions, or attacked was, one, because Aizawa was actually really good at an intimidating glare, and two, most kids were headed to the cafeteria for lunch. Still, going against the tide as they were, Tenko had to be careful not to get mown down by hungry teenagers. He balled his hands into fists, shoving them into his hoodie pocket, just in case.

As they exited at the ground level, it finally occurred to Tenko to ask where they were going. 

“I don’t teach any more classes on Wednesdays,” Aizawa explained, “so I typically head home, but the rat texted and asked me to go with you to buy some essentials, so we’ll do that first.”

—

And that’s how, for the second time in barely twelve hours, Tenko found himself riding in Eraserhead’s car. This time, he was riding shotgun, which only made the silence more awkward, at least in Tenko’s opinion. He considered just how tired Eraserhead looked, vaguely wondering if the man should even be behind the wheel, but concluded that it really wasn’t his biggest concern right now.

Thankfully, they made it to the mall without incident. As they walked in the doors, Tenko pulled his hood farther over his face. Instinctively, he hunched over farther, before reminding himself to relax his posture. Act normal, don’t draw attention to yourself. People won’t even look at you if you act like you’re supposed to be there. Tenko didn’t really go undercover, it wasn’t his specialty as a hero, but that basic mantra was drilled into every underground hero, or anyone who had a habit of being in places they shouldn’t. 

As they made to enter a department store so Tenko could grab a few clothes, Aizawa halted. Tenko did the same, turning his head to glance inquisitively at the man. 

“I need to make a phone call. It shouldn’t take too long. I’ll meet you in there.” Tenko shrugged and continued into the store. Finally, I could use a little bit of single player action. Besides, I don’t really want to go clothes shopping with a guy I technically only met today. With that in mind, and considering Aizawa seemed like the type of man to make ruthlessly efficient phone calls, Tenko grabbed a basket and made a beeline to pick out some underwear before the man caught up with him.

Tenko was good at picking out the bare essentials, so he quickly found nearly all the clothes he would need; a couple t-shirts, some jeans, some shorts for working out, and a black hoodie were all he needed. After all, he wasn’t planning on staying in this universe long… hopefully. He desperately missed his hero gear, as relatively simple as it was, but there wasn’t much he could do to replace that in a department store. Aizawa caught up to him just as Tenko was headed to grab some toiletries. Thankfully, the man kept a respectful distance, which abated some of the awkwardness. He grabbed a cheap toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, and a comb. A comb was far inferior to a brush for his long hair, but it would work temporarily, so a brush wasn’t worth the extra expense.

“We have extra hair brushes, if you need,” Aizawa spoke in a bored voice, breaking the silence.

“Uh, thanks,” Tenko said, putting back the comb, “I just need a couple more things.” Aizawa shrugged, turning back to his phone, which Tenko realized was buzzing frequently. Who’s blowing up his phone? Tenko wondered. Aizawa offered no explanation, or any indication that this was abnormal, so Tenko continued.

He bought a small bottle of his preferred lotion and a tube of Hydrocortisone cream. Even if this predicament only lasted a short while, Tenko refused to deal with the hell his skin became when he didn’t treat it. He had an arsenal of treatments at home, stored in an overflowing medicine cabinet next to all Touya’s burn stuff, but this would do for the present. He also grabbed a small pack of store-brand bandages. They weren’t as convenient or effective as the digital art style gloves he usually wore, but they would get the job done. Satisfied that he had what he really needed, Tenko made for the exit with Aizawa in tow, still texting on his phone, and looking marginally more annoyed than he had a few minutes ago. 

They passed a small school supply section on the way to the checkout, and Tenko snagged a couple graphite pencils, and a small pack of cheap colored ones on his way by. He had exactly two hobbies, and since video games were unavailable to occupy his brain, he needed something to keep him sane. Aizawa shot him a quizzical glance, but yet another buzz from his phone redirected his attention before he could ask.

Checking out was simple; Aizawa paid for Tenko’s stuff with what he explained was a UA credit card. Tenko was eager to exit the mall, and get away from all of these people. Thankfully, Aizawa seemed of the same mind. Who’d have thought we’d have so much in common . Tenko thought ruefully.

Tenko loaded his stuff into the trunk of the car, and walked to the passenger side to get in. Aizawa was waiting in the car, but he didn’t immediately start it like Tenko expected. Instead, he turned in his seat and fixed Tenko with an intense, yet exhausted expression. Impressive, really, how many emotions he can fit into a deadpan. Of course, Tenko had a lot of practice reading Shoto’s practically emotionless face, so perhaps he was at an advantage.

“We need to talk before we go back.”

“Okay…” Tenko replied, somewhat unnerved by the man’s stare. Aizawa took a deep breath in and began,

“I don’t live alone. I live with my husband, and we recently started fostering a six year old girl.” Tenko glanced at Aizawa’s phone, now in its phone holder, still buzzing periodically.

“Oh, is that who’s blowing up your phone?” Tenko asked impulsively, “Present Mic does seem like he’d do that, honestly.”

“How do you know Hizashi is my husband?” Eraserhead bristled, clearly on edge, but not quite as hostile as he would have been this morning, Tenko thinks.

“Are you guys not open about it here? I mean, I dunno if Eraserhead and Mic are officially hitched in my world, but it’s pretty damn clear that they’re a thing.” As strange and complex as their relationship was, it was pretty clear that it was a romantic one. Aizawa seemed somewhat taken aback, but he recovered quickly.

“No. We keep our relationship private. Since we’re both heroes, knowing we have a relationship just gives any villains that much more possibility to gain leverage, among other things.” That’s one of my fears with Touya. Not that it’s really feasible for us to hide anything at this point. It was weird that he was already coming to sympathize with this man so much.

“Does your class know?” Tenko questioned, “I mean, you live in the same building.”

“We just told them recently, when we took in Eri— that’s our six-year-old. And yes, Hizashi is the one blowing up my phone.” Aizawa sighed, deflating somewhat, “I told him the basics of the situation— it would be illogical to just bring you to the dorms without any warning, especially because you’ll probably be spending a decent amount of time at our apartment. Believe me, it’s not ideal, but I’d rather have you use our kitchen and bathroom than the shared spaces in the dorms.” So you can keep an eye on me. Fair enough, honestly, my actions today probably weren’t very trust-inspiring. As if he could read Tenko’s thoughts, Aizawa shifted gears, that protective note creeping back into his tone. “I know you’re not Shigaraki, and I’m doing my damn best not to treat you like him, but Shimura, if you touch a single hair on either one of their heads… If I think for a minute that you are a threat, then, well, it’s like that speech you gave to me on the rooftop last night; there are limits to my heroism as well.” Tenko could see the man’s hair begin to grow weightless around his shoulders.

“I get it.” It was fair. Tenko would give the same shovel talk if this Aizawa were suddenly in his universe and about to go near his family, but it still made his skin prickle. It was a reminder, whether Aizawa meant it that way or not, that Tenko was dangerous. Tenko began surreptitiously scratching at his wrist, trying to quell the itch before it began building. Aizawa started the car at last. There were a few minutes of silence while he navigated out of the mall’s parking lot and turned in the direction of UA, but then he began again,

“Eri was recently rescued from the Shie Hassaikai, a Yakuza group we raided. As far as I know, she’s never seen Shigaraki in person, but she’s generally very cautious around new people, so don’t take it personally if she’s not very friendly.” Poor kid. Tenko thought. An upbringing in the criminal underground was sure to give any kid their fair share of trauma; he should know.

“That’s all right, I get it, believe me.” Tenko assured, “I’ve dealt with traumatized kids quite a bit at this point. Not that young, to be fair, but I can probably empathize more than the average NPC.”

“Do you work with kids a lot in your hero work? That doesn’t seem to fit your disposition.” Aizawa questioned, slightly surprised.

“Rude, but you’re right, I don't," Tenko admitted. He wasn’t particularly good with little kids, although he was better at dealing with traumatized ones than the average person. Shared personal experience goes a long way. “I— well, I have two, I guess. Well, kind of. They’re both teenagers. My boyfriend, Touya, is the legal guardian of his little brother, and then I’m fostering the other. But I mean we all live together, so… I mean one’s sixteen and the other’s seventeen, so they're obviously a lot older, but…” Tenko realized he was starting to ramble. Aizawa looked at him, they were turning into the faculty entrance to UA now.

“Wait, how old are you Shimura?” His eyebrows were scrunched slightly.

“Twenty one,” Tenko replied, “Eyes on the road, Eraserhead.” Aizawa obligingly faced the road again, but he still looked perturbed,

“That’s pretty young to have two dependents,” He stated flatly, “how’d the courts even let that happen?”

“Believe me, I know it's weird. Short version is Touya petitioned for custody of his two younger brothers when he turned 18. In the end, the older one went to live with his sister and Touya got Sho. Then about a year and a half ago I got attached to Himiko— that’s the other one— and used my hero status and the fact that, at that point, she would bite literally anyone else who came near her, to thwart the system and get emergency foster rights. It was easier to make it permanent from there.” Tenko sighed, flopping his head against the headrest and slouching in his seat, “I am far too young to have read this many parenting books, and frankly, Tou and I have no idea what we’re doing, like, three-quarters of the time, but it kind of just,” Tenko gestured vaguely out in front of him with his hands, “works, I guess. And before you say anything, I know I’m probably not responsible enough or mature enough or stable enough or whatever to do the whole parenting thing, and we’re probably doing a million things wrong, but it’s a damn sight better than what either of them had before.” Tenko didn’t know why he felt so defensive; Aizawa literally hadn’t had a chance to get a word in edgewise, let alone verbally judge him, but he still felt the need to explain. Aizawa, who had pulled into the staff parking garage, stopped the car and turned it off before saying anything. Then he turned and just stared at Tenko for a moment, looking mildly concerned and incredibly exhausted.

“I— Do you mean Himiko as in, Toga Himiko?” Okay, now I get how he feels when I know personal information about him. This shit is fucking creepy.

“Uh, yeah, why?” Tenko asked. Aizawa looked like he really wanted to say something, possibly several things, or possibly like he wanted to punch Tenko— it was hard to tell, even with Tenko’s skill at reading deadpan expressions. 

“I am too tired for this.” Aizawa concluded, letting his shoulders drop and turning to exit the car. “Let’s get to my apartment and deal with that whole situation.” Alright then. Tenko thought. I get the feeling we’ll have to discuss that one later.

Chapter Text

This time, when they entered the Heights Alliance building, they went through the main door. Unfortunately for Tenko, this meant they walked through the common room. Fortunately for Tenko, classes had only just ended for the day, so there was only one trio of students in the common area. It was the girl with a bushy ponytail, the pink girl— Ashido, if Tenko remembered correctly, and the girl with the frog quirk. They all abruptly stopped speaking when Tenko and Aizawa walked in, and Tenko could feel their gazes crawling along his skin. He realized a moment too late that he had been making some pretty intense eye contact with them, so he gave a little finger raise in greeting then forced himself to gaze strictly at the stairwell, his other hand gripping his shopping bag tightly. 

Tenko chucked his supplies through his dorm room door on the way by. Aizawa waited for him outside the door to his apartment. Once Tenko caught up, he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The first thing that hit Tenko was the smell— Mic was clearly cooking dinner. It was curry, judging by its scent. This briefly reminded Tenko that he hadn’t eaten in probably around twenty four hours by now, but that thought was quickly put on the back burner as he spotted Mic in the kitchen. Even from the back, that long yellow hair instantly confirmed his identity. It’s jarring, seeing someone so creepy and menacing in such a domestic scene, cooking curry and humming along to the upbeat English pop playing in the background. At the sound of the door, Mic turned around, his eyes quickly moving over Aizawa and coming to rest on Tenko. I am getting really sick of all this intense eye contact. Tenko’s whole body stiffened, and he could feel a rush of adrenaline course through him.

It wasn’t quite as terror-inducing as staring down Aizawa on that rooftop. Partly because he now knew that this present Mic wasn’t a villain, and partly because his Present Mic often played a more background role as a disruptor and director in their fights while Eraserhead was usually the one trying to gut him like a fish. Still, just like with Aizawa, Tenko couldn’t completely erase the lingering chant of ‘danger, danger’ in the back of his mind. He felt the urge to bring his hands over his ears, and prepare for the onslaught. The man grinned at him, it seemed forced, and his smile was a lot closer to the Present Mic Tenko knows than Aizawa’s was to Eraserhead’s. Tenko didn’t know if it’s supposed to be friendly or threatening. He suspects the latter.

“So you’re Shigaraki’s mysterious doppelganger, eh? Funny, you look a lot less scary up close than I thoughtcha would.”

“Depends on how close you get.” It was meant as a joke (mostly), but Tenko’s was so on edge facing down yet another person that, until today, he knew undoubtedly to be a villain, that it came out sounding far more like a threat. Tenko could tell immediately that it was the wrong thing to say.

“Lucky I wouldn’t have to get close.” There’s a hint of that strange quiet-loud, almost ambient quality that Mic’s voice takes on when he’s a hair trigger away from quirk activation. Tenko spotted movement near the ground to the right, and glanced over to see a heartbreakingly tiny six year old who had just looked up from her coloring, which was laid out on the living room floor, to focus on Mic. Mic glanced at where Tenko was looking, and Tenko could see his body tense. He took a step out of the kitchen in Tenko’s direction, growling in that same ‘just below quirk threshold’ voice,

“Don’t even,”

“Mic,” Aizawa interjected, jerking his head in the kid’s direction, “Eri…” at the same time Tenko raised his hands out in front of him in a surrendering gesture. It went against every instinct that was telling him to defend himself, but Tenko was still looking at Eri, who was glancing around rapidly, taking in the situation. Adults fighting probably isn’t the best for a traumatized kid. 

“Whoa, hey, Mic,” Tenko took a small step backward, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t meant to be a threat.” Tenko wasn’t sure if it was him or Aizawa, but Mic seemed to force himself to cool down, relaxing his posture.

“It’s alright.” His clipped tone indicated that it really wasn’t, “Guess I’m just a little on edge. I ain’t met Shigaraki personally, but I will never forget seeing him hurt Sho. And hearing about the training camp… Well, can ya dig how I might be a bit mistrustful?” Tenko couldn’t really expect much better than that, even if the way Mic was clearly struggling to separate him from Shigaraki made his skin crawl. Am I really that similar to a villain? He began covertly scratching at his wrist.

“Yeah, well, Present Mic has tried to kill me as well, so I guess I do.” Tenko wasn’t sure when ‘Actually, you’ve tried to kill me too,’ had become his go-to statement for de-escalation, but he had to admit it was reasonably effective. At the very least it dampened the hostility by adding to the confusion. Mic blinked.

“Alrighty then,” He hesitated for a moment, “well, I guess we might as well hash things out over food, and dinner’s almost ready. Eri, dear, would you be willing to go wash up for dinner?” The little girl straightened quickly at being addressed, then hopped up and scurried down the hallway to the bathroom. Mic turned back to the stove and started ladling curry onto plates filled with rice, but it was clear that at least some of his attention was still on Tenko. That was fine. Tenko’s attention was still on him, after all. 

“Want help, Zashi?” Aizawa spoke up.

“No,” Mic responded, “you and Shimura can go get settled at the table, the rest is easy to handle.” Pretty sure he just wants Aizawa to keep an eye on me, but whatever. Tenko followed the man to the dining table. 

He observed Mic as the man finished portioning out curry. Just like when he first met Aizawa, Tenko began noticing inconsistencies between his Present Mic and this man. Mic’s hair was in a neat half-back that left most of it free to fall around his shoulders. It was weird to be wearing the same hairstyle as Present Mic of all people. Tenko then reminded himself that that was by far the least weird part of his day. His hair looked less stringy than the Present Mic Tenko knew. It was clear that it was actually taken care of. The man still had a tall, thin frame, but it wasn’t the borderline emaciated thing that Tenko was used to. The largest difference, of course, was that this man, like Aizawa, seemed sober, and in a much more sound state of mind than his counterpart.

Some small knot that Tenko hadn’t realized had formed in his chest unwound at that particular observation. He was pretty sure from their encounters that his Present Mic’s poison of choice was liquor, which thankfully didn’t seem to be the case here. Good, no six year old needs to be in that kind of environment. As they all sat down at the table, Tenko took in the sheer absurdity of sharing such a domestic scenario with two people who he would have been trying to dust under literally any other circumstance. He didn’t take too long to drink in the moment however, as his body decided to remind him both of the fact that he hadn’t eaten in a full day, and that there was a delicious plate of curry directly in front of him.

With that realization, Tenko managed to avoid the first ten or so minutes of conversation as he dug into his food. Mic did most of the chatting, asking about Aizawa’s day and quizzing Eri on what she had learned from her tutor. Tenko was pretty sure they were trying to be normal for Eri’s sake, but as long as it meant they ignored him for a moment, he didn’t care. Tenko ate quickly, which he came to regret almost instantly, as he was pulled into conversation the moment his plate was empty.

“So, Shimura, this here is Eri,” Mic introduced. His tone and face were smiling, but Tenko could catch the hard edge of protectiveness in his eyes. Tenko turned to Eri, meeting those big, round, shy eyes.

“Hi Eri,” Tenko splayed his palm as a sort of wave, “I’m Shimura Tenko, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” Eri replied, voice barely audible, seemingly shrinking in on her already tiny frame. Shoot. Tenko knew he wasn’t exactly pleasant looking, and it didn’t bother him most days, really, it didn’t. Hell, he sometimes relished his almost creepy appearance, but he didn’t get any pleasure out of scaring little kids. Especially little kids with white hair and red eyes that reminded him a little too much of his younger self. He, too, was terrified of the monster that I am. The thought made him itch. He was getting really tired of how constantly his skin had been crawling today. Still, he tried to salvage the situation.

“I saw your drawings,” Tenko had really only gotten a glance, but what did it matter? “They looked really nice. I like to draw too. Maybe you could give me some pointers some time?” Tenko tried to keep his voice soft and posture relaxed. Anything to mitigate his disquieting appearance. Eri didn’t really straighten up, but she stopped shrinking inward.

“O-okay.” She whispered, then, as though she was reminding herself, “Thank you, Shimura-san” 

“‘Course, kid. I like to compliment nice drawings when I see them. You can call me just Shimura, by the way, or even Tenko.” It felt so weird to have kids be that formal with him. That seemed to be a little too much for Eri to consider though, as she once again shrunk away before eventually climbing over from her chair into Mic’s lap. Mic rested a comforting arm around her, the other hand reaching to comb through her hair. 

“Alright, I think it’s time for bed, little listener,” Mic said, “as long as you’ve gotten enough food.” Eri nodded. Mic looked at Aizawa and Tenko, “I’ll be back in a few.” He stood up and carried Eri down the hall.

It took Mic about twenty minutes to return, in which time Aizawa finished his curry and Tenko toyed with the idea of decaying his dirty napkin, just to have something to do. Once Mic came back however, he was quick to start the conversation.

“Alrighty, we’ve got some shit to talk about.” he turned to Aizawa, “Shouta, my dear, love of my life, what exactly were you thinking dropping this on me an hour and a half before you got home? This isn’t exactly a ‘hey, by the way’ type of situation.” To his credit, and to Tenko’s surprise, Aizawa looked genuinely contrite.

“I’m sorry ‘Zashi. I got to UA less than two hours before classes this morning, then I had to wrangle the hell class, and spend the rest of the morning trying to not let Shimura get killed.”

“More like trying to avoid me killing anyone in self defence.” Tenko added unhelpfully. Mic looked perturbed at that. Aizawa shot him a glare.

“Still, Shou,” Mic began before seemingly giving up, “Ya know what, let’s move on.” Mic was still talking directly to Aizawa, “How exactly do we know he is who he says he is? That this isn’t an elaborate infiltration plan? Why is he allowed inside the dorms, Shou. Even if he is telling the truth, he’s still just some guy you fought on a rooftop. Why does this warrant entrance to the school?”

“Tsukauchi and Nedzu are both confident he’s telling the truth. Even if they weren’t, an infiltration plan like this would be completely illogical. There are so many ways that it could be done more successfully and with less suspicion. As to why he’s here, Nedzu says it’s for his protection. I think more likely Nedzu’s fascinated by the potential of studying the first ever confirmed reality-swapping incident. That, or he may simply enjoys torturing me.”

“Could be both,” Tenko shrugged. The two men looked at him. “I went to UA. He was my principal too. I know him well enough to know he enjoys torturing his pupils.”

“Well, I guess that’s the best I’m going to get,” Mic huffed, “So, Shimura, what did you mean when you said that I had tried to kill you?” Tenko felt like he’d touched on this conversation ten times over today, but this time both Mic and Aizawa were together. Tenko took a deep breath,

“In my world, you guys are both villains. A pretty infamous duo actually, especially since you’re former heroes and teachers gone rogue. And…” Tenko hesitated, but it didn’t feel right to only hint at the full story anymore, “and it’s my fault.”

“Your fault what?” Aizawa asked.

“My fault you guys are villains. Or at least that Eraserhead is one. It’s at least partly my fault.”

“Explain.” Aizawa stated flatly. It was clearly a demand.

“I don’t know all of it,” Tenko admitted, “but I’ll tell you all the lore I can. You guys were both teachers when I started at UA. You were both pretty new, obviously. I didn’t know Mic that well– he was teaching upperclassmen at the time, I think, but Aizawa was assisting with most of our heroics lessons. He was pretty good to me, considering I was ‘the villain kid,’ to most people, but, uh, well,” Tenko faltered at this bit. He always did, and he wasn’t sure why. It always made his mind hum with questions, like he was missing something he should know. “We had a lesson at UA’s disaster simulation joint— the USJ—” Mic and Aizawa shared a glance, “and I used my quirk to decay part of this collapsing building to clear a path; my quirk is good for that kind of rescue work. 

All I know is after that, Eraser’s attitude around me completely changed. First he would just fuckin’ stare at me like some bugged NPC, and I couldn’t tell what the hell he was thinking. Then he started treating me like the villain everyone else did. I remember he started acting crankier with everyone else too, looking more and more tired all the time. Two weeks later he dropped off the map. Three months later Present Mic followed. The only indication that either of them was still alive was that Mic’s radio show continued to broadcast one or two Fridays out of the month, but instead of sharing Hero highlights, he began to highlight their failures.” Tenko paused for breath.

“That seems a little too circumstantial for you to say it’s your fault, listener.” Mic says. Tenko’s surprised to hear a note of sympathy in the man’s voice. Huh, do I really sound that self-depricating?  

“Well, yeah,” Tenko admitted, “I didn’t necessarily think it was at the time, but you’ve gotta hear the rest of it. A couple years later some dead heroes start turning up. Always gutted like if a bear had run its claws through their belly. People in the area would always report this ear-splitting, sing-songy humming. Real creepy, horror-game type shit. Then there were a few dead civilians too, always kind of younger guys. I was out on patrol one night on my work study. Eraserhead just came flying out of nowhere. He doesn’t use that capture scarf thingy you’ve got.” Tenko said, inclining his head towards Aizawa, “Forgot I’d ever seen it on him until I met you. 

Anyway, he has these metal claws that he wears on the end of his fingertips. Next thing I knew I was pinned against the wall by my neck with those claws prickling against my belly.” Mic made a small gasping noise. Tenko couldn’t tell if the story was that shocking to him, or if he was just a dramatic listener. He forged on, knowing he otherwise wouldn’t make it to the end of his story.

“That’s when I saw in his eyes how much he hated me. I said something stupid like ‘why?’ I’m not sure what I was asking about, but I know exactly what he said. Mic had started his creepy humming shit, but I wasn’t sure where he was. I just remember it was loud. It kind of reverberates in your head. I remember,” Tenko took a deep breath, steadying himself through the memory, “Eraser seemed to struggle with talking, like it was hard for him to put all the words together, but eventually he told me, ‘If you’re a hero, I don’t want to be one anymore.’” Tenko took another shaky breath, then pressed on rapidly, “anyway, obviously my mentor and one of her sidekicks showed up and saved me, otherwise I’m sure he would have split me open like the rest of them, but yeah, that pretty much confirmed that he hated me in particular.” Tenko turned to Aizawa feeling a little desperate, “Do you know why? Why would he hate me so much that he’d go rogue?” Well, wouldn’t I be pissed if I was a decent person who watched a monster become a hero?

Aizawa shook his head, although he looked like he was thinking deeply. “Not immediately, but,” He looked at Mic, “Collapsing buildings?” The question doesn’t mean much to Tenko, but something passed between the two men. 

“It’s crazy to think about,” Mic sighed, “borderline unbelievable. I just can’t picture Shou going villain. Though I guess it at least seems plausible that I’d follow you.” Get a room. Or at least let me go to mine.  

“I get it’s nuts,” Tenko offered, “I wouldn’t have believed you two could be this sane until I saw it.”

“What does that mean, listener?” Yamada asked.

“Mic and Eraser are both so unstable. I mean, Mic’s just pretty creepy, and from what I’ve gathered he’s got a pretty severe alcohol addiction, but he’s the fucking sane one compared to Eraser.” Tenko repressed a shudder.

“Explain.” Aizawa pressed. For someone who didn’t like offering answers, he sure was willing to press for them.

“I mean, he’s barely fucking human anymore. At some point after disappearing, he got hooked on trigger.” Both men shifted uncomfortably, clearly understanding the severity of the drug. “I don’t know how much research you both have done on trigger, but since being officially assigned to the Eraser-Mic case I’ve done a lot. Most trigger addicts don’t last long. The stuff hooks you quick, and it’s extremely easy to overdose on. So most common knowledge about trigger focuses on early-stage users. Mania, aggression, black sclera, and obviously enhanced quirks. But long-term,” Tenko can’t repress the shudder that runs through him this time. He feels almost guilty for explaining this to them, especially Aizawa, like he’ll corrupt the man sitting beside him. “It fucks with your cognitive abilities permanently. That aggression and mania grows until it’s basically all that’s left. It impairs thought and speech, basically reducing it to a primitive level, like a poorly coded character instead of an actual person. It actually enhances strength and speed, and its quirk-enhancing capability only grows. For Eraserhead, his quirk now lingers after he blinks. Sometime in the past year and a half or so, it hit a point where it lingers long enough that he can re-activate before the effect fades.” Tenko stops himself from explaining any more. He already feels their stares cutting into him, making it difficult to meet their eyes.

“Well that's disturbing,” Mic broke the silence. That feels like quite the understatement, Tenko noted wryly. Aizawa still looked deep in thought. Mic reached a hand across the table, and cupped it over his husband's, which finally drew Aizawa’s attention back to the real world. “Shou, don’t let it eat at you. Clearly things are very different in Shimura’s world.”

“Not different enough, ‘Zashi, if I apparently could be broken by a fifteen year old.” Aizawa looked haunted. He knows more than he’s letting on.  

“We don’t know for sure that that’s what happened, and even if it was, maybe your twenty-five year old self could, Shou, but you’re in a much better place now. We both are. Don’t worry about becoming some monster you clearly aren’t.” Mic comforted.

“But it’s a monster I could be, clearly,” Aizawa returned, “It happened somewhere, didn’t it?” Tenko suddenly desperately wanted to leave this conversation. This felt too private for him to view, yet it also felt scarily, intimately familiar. Welcome to the world of realizing your inner potential to be a monster. I’m sorry I had to be the one to introduce you to it, Aizawa. Abruptly, Tenko stood.

“I was up at, like, two o’clock this morning. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Alright,” Mic responded, still looking at Aizawa rather than Tenko, “breakfast is at 7:15.” Tenko took that as permission to leave, and quickly headed out the door.

Tenko’s room was barren except for a bed in one corner and the pile of clothes that he had managed to accumulate so far on his floor. Tenko realized too late that he didn’t have access to a bathroom to brush his teeth unless he was willing to brave the communal bathroom that was located a floor below. He decided he wasn’t and that he could skip brushing for a night, so instead he stripped off the clothes he had borrowed from Aizawa and threw on a fresh cotton t-shirt and pair of boxers. He carefully wrapped a bandaid around his pinky finger on each hand, then his ring fingers for good measure. He did not want to decay the sheets or his mattress in his sleep… again. He flicked off the light and climbed into bed.

He was staring at his ceiling, fighting the instinctual urge to reach for his phone by reminding himself that it wasn’t there. What wouldn’t he give to be able to text Touya right now? Tenko knew he should be worried about what his boyfriend was going through, especially if Shigaraki had replaced him in his universe, and he was worried, really, but another part of him simply wished to be near somebody that he knew didn’t think he was a monster. Ha. Selfish, twisted Tenko, you’ve got him fooled good. How have you managed to trick so many people into actually believing you can be a human, let alone a hero?

Decay. Dust. Destroy. You know you crave it. You know you want to. 

Why even pretend I’m not a monster?

Tenko’s skin boiled more viciously than it had at any other point throughout the day. He began furiously scratching at his neck, re-opening scabs from that morning, then tearing open the older ones that really had been so close to healing this time. But that wasn’t enough. He raked his nails across his upper arms, then clawed at his sternum. When his nails weren’t enough he pressed his wrist to the textured drywall and quickly, violently drew his arm across it, grating at the wall until his forearms and wrists began to trickle blood as well. He itched and itched, clawing at his skin, desperate to release it and yet so thankful for the tiny bandages on his fingers that kept the monster at bay.

Sometime amidst his writhing, Tenko forgot how to breathe. He wheezed violently, and all too quickly, never taking in enough air. He thrashed on his bed, clawing at his skin in desperation to scratch that fucking itch. Flailing violently, yet as silently as he could, to the rhythm in his head chanting that there was an easy way to stop all of those itchy stares, reminding him of the monster that he truly was.

Chapter Text

Touya woke abruptly out of his slumber when he felt Tenko sit bolt upright in bed beside him. He was a light sleeper, and so he always woke up to his boyfriend’s nightmares. Tenko always apologized, knowing that Touya had a difficult time sleeping even under the best of circumstances, but it wasn’t like Touya minded. He hated the idea of Tenko having to bring himself back from the nightmares alone, knowing personally what a hell that was. It’s so strange, caring like this, Touya thought, after only feeling cold rage or indifference for so long. He could never have anticipated his life being anything other than a raging, all-consuming bonfire, burning eternally until he ran out of fuel, yet here he was. Even now, it astonished him.

Still groggy from being pulled out of sleep, Touya shifted to prop himself up, and sling an arm around Tenko’s waist.

“Hmmmm… hey, what’s up Shimmer?” he mumbled sleepily, moving to rest against Tenko’s side.

The next thing Touya knew, he was being forced flat on his back again, as four fingers and a thumb pressed down on his throat. Tenko was kneeling over him, straddling him as Touya lay helpless. His red eyes were alit with something murderous, and his hair was wild and tangled. Touya, caught off guard, could do nothing but stare into those blood red eyes. Is he still panicking? Is he struggling to pull himself out of the dream?

“What the fuck…who…Dabi?” The statement started as a murderous growl, but trailed off into confusion. “What the hell are you doing! I will fucking dust you!” The rage returned as quickly as it had lapsed. Touya was reeling even more wildly than he had been a second ago. Sure, it wasn’t uncommon for Tenko to casually call him ‘Dabs,’ or even to occasionally use his former name in full. It wasn’t like Touya really minded, he didn’t hate his name like Tenko had grown to hate the name Shigaraki— After all, ‘Dabi’ had been his choice— but it had long since stopped being the primary name Tenko used for him. Something was wrong.

“Hey, Tenko, it’s okay,” Touya tried to sound soothing, but it was difficult, considering that Tenko was pressing on his windpipe really fucking hard, “It’s just me, calm down.” His wheezing words had the opposite effect.

“What the hell are you playing at you purple freak! Why the hell are you in… here” Tenko’s voice trailed off briefly as he glanced around the room before his eyes locked back on Touya, “Where the hell am I?” He growled, pressing harder on Touya’s throat. Touya couldn’t breathe. This was rapidly becoming a serious strangling situation. In a surge of panicked strength he brought his legs up and kicked into Tenko’s torso, throwing the man off of him. The instant Touya could move he threw himself off the bed, stood up, and whirled around to face Tenko, who was now sitting in a haphazard heap on the opposite side of the bed.

Touya panted, regaining his breath, and realizing that he had instinctively fallen into a fighting stance. He didn’t relax. He hadn’t felt this tense around Tenko since they were teenagers, back when each was a potential threat to the other’s survival. His neck throbbed, and as he stared down Tenko he became aware of a sharp sting on his lower back, alerting him that he had popped at least a couple staples in their scuffle.

“What the hell, Tenko?” Touya rasped. Tenko was staring at him in almost equal confusion, although he was more aggressive than fearful. He stiffened at Touya’s question.

“Where the fuck did you hear that name, Dabi?” He growled. 

“What name?” Touya asked dumbly. It didn’t go over well.

“You fucking know exactly which name. Where in the hell did you hear it? Why the hell are you here, and where the hell am I?” Tenko shouted the last words. Touya didn’t know what to do. He had absolutely zero clue as to what the hell was going on. Last thing he knew he had come home from patrol to find that Tenko, who had gone to bed early, splayed out on the bed wearing the ridiculous Minecraft PJs Touya had gifted him, absolutely dead to the world.

That’s when he saw it. Because Tenko wasn’t wearing those green pajamas. Instead, he was clad in a seemingly ancient, hole-ridden T-shirt and boxer shorts. The hell? Why would he go and change? Touya’s hero training finally kicked in, and he began taking in other details. Tenko’s hair was an absolute mess. That wasn’t unusual, especially when he was just waking up, but it looked more matted and unwashed than should be possible considering it was clean and relatively tamed the day before. It was hard to tell in the dim light of their bedroom, but the skin around Tenko’s eyes seemed drier. Touya began scanning the rest of the exposed skin he could see. Many of the scars were right; Touya knew them almost as well as he did his own, but some were clearly wrong or missing. Most obviously, the large burn scars on Tenko’s forearms were entirely absent. Touya made all these observations in a split second, but the man sitting on the bed had already scrambled backwards off the bed, and assumed his own fighting stance on the opposite side of the bed from Touya.

“You’re not— Who are you?” Now it was Touya’s turn to become aggressive. “Where’s Tenko?” The man breathed in like he was about to scream back at Touya, but he stopped just as his lips were parting. Those blood red eyes that were every bit as intense as Tenko’s were dissecting Touya’s face. A split second later his eyes widened.

“Your face staples— you’re not Dabi. Damnit, I should have recognized that sooner. What kind of glitched out copycat are you?” The man still seemed ready to fight, but his initial anger was now mitigated by confusion.

“You first.” Touya growled, “I asked first, besides, you’re in my fucking apartment!” His volume rose throughout the sentence, as the complete strangeness and potential danger of the situation fully caught up to him. Why is there an imposter in my home? Are the kids okay? Touya could feel the throbbing bruises where the man had pressed on his neck and the sting on his back, both reminders that a stranger had attacked him in his own room, where they were both supposed to be safe. The man seemed to consider for a second, weighing his options with the air of someone who had plenty of experience making transactions.

“Fine.” He huffed, “Not like it’s some big secret. I’m Shigaraki Tomura. Now answer my question before I decide I don’t care anymore and dust you.” It was probably meant to be intimidating, but to Touya it seemed to be bordering on whiny. Then again, Touya probably had a higher threshold for intimidation than most people. He was more preoccupied with the fact that this seeming imposter had just introduced himself with the name Tenko had forsaken years ago.

“‘Dabi’ is fine for now.” Touya decided, “I still use it sometimes anyway, and you really don’t need to know more about me.” The man looked like he was going to protest, but Touya barreled forward, “Are you trying to impersonate Tenko? Because if so you’re doing a piss poor job. What exactly are you trying to do here?” Now it was Touya’s turn to try and be intimidating, unfortunately, the man across from him didn’t seem like the type to cower.

“I’m not fucking trying to impersonate anyone. What I am trying to do is figure out why the hell I’m wherever this is, who you are, and why you’re in some sort of weird Dabi cosplay.”

“I’m not in a costume,” Touya drawled, “this is my actual skin, unfortunately for both of us.” He’d gotten that remark before, but it had become less frequent once he’d started undergoing reconstructive treatments that eliminated the need for staples at his seams. Now that half his face no longer looked like it was safety-pinned on, he just looked horrifically disfigured, which somehow managed to be an improvement. Focus, Touya. “And you’re out of luck, because I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here. All I know is that I went to bed with my boyfriend last night, and now you’re here like some sort of skin-stealing wacko.”

“Well that wasn’t my fuckin’ idea! You think I wanted to wake up to being groped by your burnt ass of all people?” It dawned on Touya that this might not be a productive path for this conversation. He knew that, as a severe burn victim, he wasn’t that high up most people’s tier lists in terms of attractiveness, but he didn’t need to hear it from a home intruder at— he checked the digital clock on the nightstand— five fifty-three in the morning. Shit. Is it almost 6:00 already? That meant that Touya had, at best, forty-five minutes before Shoto got up. And even if Shoto decided to mind his own business while Touya figured out a way to deal with whatever was going on here, Himiko definitely would not. Okay, they definitely did not have time to waste arguing over this man’s slight to Touya’s appearance then. He refrained from a snarky comment. 

“Alright, I get it. Apparently neither of us knows what’s going on here. Let’s rewind. Is there any possibility you could have been hit with some sort of, I dunno, teleportation quirk?” What kind of teleportation would make an almost-perfect copy of Tenko appear in his place? That makes no sense?

“No.” Shigaraki responded flatly, finally relaxing out of an attack stance, though clearly still on edge. Touya decided to do the same, and the tension in the room dropped marginally now that neither was about to try and kill the other within the next few seconds.

“Okay then, very helpful.” Touya responded. I would suspect some sort of amnesia or memory-altering quirk, but that wouldn’t explain how his scars are different. It was almost relieving, knowing that this wasn’t actually Tenko under the influence of a quirk. “Any ideas, then, why you might look almost exactly like my boyfriend, Shimura Tenko?” Shigaraki, annoyingly, responded with an inquiry of his own,

“Just how similar do I look to Shimura?” This seemed like helpful information that wasn’t overly dangerous to reveal, so Touya humored him.

“You’re literally identical except for that your hair and skin is more fucked and some of your scars are different.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Any time.” Touya grinned, feeling like he had slightly avenged himself. 

“Well, I know I don’t have a fuckin’ twin, so I guess that rules out the easy option.”

“That is potentially the most helpful contribution you’ve made to our conversation so far. Good job.” Touya noted.

“Shut up, asshole. So, he goes by Shimura Tenko– ever heard my name before?”

“Yeah, actually,” Touya responded, growing more serious. “Ten used the name Shigaraki until he was fifteen. Didn’t even know that wasn’t his birth name until then.” 

“Why’d he decide to change it?” Shigaraki sounded confused. Tenko didn’t like discussing his past with others, but Touya figured these were kind of extenuating circumstances.

“He changed it back about a year after we both were put into UA’s hero course. He said he didn’t know if he really wanted to be a hero, but he didn’t want to use the name a villain gave him anymore. He said he didn’t want to be a puppet— I think choosing to go back to his birth name was symbolic for him, that way.” Shigaraki stared at Touya. A million micro expressions were behind those eyes, but Touya was helpless to read them. 

“He’s a fucking hero?” Shigaraki asked. He sounded angry and derisive, but still there were more underlying emotions Touya couldn’t even begin to guess at.

“Yeah, so am I. What… what are you?” Touya almost knew the answer before Shigaraki confirmed it.

“Hah… a villain; I’m the leader of the League of Villains.” If Tenko wasn’t already tense, he would have stiffened at the verbal confirmation that a villain was in his home. But he didn’t seem like he was going to attack— after all, what reason did he have? Besides, some small part of him couldn’t help but cut the man some slack, purely because his face and mannerisms were so similar to Tenko’s. So instead of diving for the quirk cancelling handcuffs that were tangled in his hero costume somewhere, he asked a question,

“The League of Villains? I’ve never heard of that before.” This seemed like something that Shigaraki was happy to explain. It broke through some of the ice that had been frosting over their conversation, and it wasn’t long before they began comparing notes about what Touya knew to be true, and what Shigaraki described. 

Touya was no quirk analyst. Not even close. Could there actually be such a thing as parallel universes? Are there quirks who can actually send people across a multiverse? Touya had no idea, but then again, anything was possible in this world, right? But why Tenko? Was it random? Somehow, that didn’t seem right, but Touya truly knew nothing right now. All he could do at present was learn a little about Shigaraki, and hope that it would help him figure out what to do next. At some point during their conversation, Tenko glanced again at the clock: 6:43. Not a moment later a light flicked on in the hallway, sending a sliver of brightness through the otherwise still dimly lit room. Touya cursed midway through Shigaraki’s explanation of recruiting the current League.

“What?” Shigaraki sounded annoyed at being interrupted, not that Tenko really cared.

“Listen, I’ve got two teenagers that I need to get to school without freaking out.”

“You have kids?” Shigaraki looked both incredulous and possibly a little horrified. Touya couldn’t blame him for that reaction— he honestly still felt that way sometimes when the realization that he was legally in charge of two minors decided to creep up on him at random moments. He still couldn’t believe that anyone let that happen, but whatever.

“Teenagers, technically. ‘Legal dependents’ is more accurate, but yeah. Anyway, I have to figure out what the heck to do with you.” Shigaraki shrugged,

“Just leave me here. Where would I even go?”

“Yeah. No. Not trusting that. Nice try Shigaraki but you literally told me that you are a villain. What I technically should do is arrest your ass.” Touya responded

“I’m not a villain here—” Shigaraki pointed out snidely, “you literally said Shimura Tenko is a hero. Wouldn’t it be a little weird for you to drag me into the station.” He was annoyingly smug. Touya bristled slightly, knowing that he was right. He couldn’t just arrest Shigaraki for the nonexistent crime of loitering in the wrong universe. Still, he didn’t feel safe just leaving him alone. 

Touya walked over to where his crumpled hero costume sat on the floor from when he had hastily stripped it off last night. He dug around, locating the utility belt and then the almost dainty looking quirk-canceling bracelets that were in one of its pockets. They were much less heavy-duty than the cuffs that were clipped to the other side of his belt, meant more to cancel an out of control quirk than to arrest someone. They weren’t standard carry within the hero community, but Tenko had always insisted that he carry them. They didn’t lock, but they did sync to a small device that would buzz if they were removed, and allow Touya to locate the bracelet. Shigaraki hadn’t given Touya a reason to go straight to cuffs yet, so he hoped these would be an agreeable compromise. Turning around he held them out to Shigaraki,

“Put these on.”

“No.”

“It’s this or I'll wrestle you into cuffs.”

“Try that and I’ll dust you.” Touya couldn’t tell whether that was a bluff, but he was well aware of the havoc Decay could wreak on a living body.

“Come on. They aren’t cuffs, just a way to keep tabs on you. You’re a stranger, technically a villain, who popped up in my house this morning, seemingly replacing my boyfriend; this is honestly the least nuclear option.”

“I. Don’t. Want. To wear them.” Shigaraki growled. He sounded younger than Tenko, Touya thought, more like a stubborn teenager. Touya huffed, panning around for a solution before his eyes landed on Tenko’s switch. He’s gonna kill me if he finds out.

“You can use Tenko’s switch if you put them on.” Shigaraki seemed like he asked what was going to stop him from using it either way, but for one reason or another he acquiesced. 

“Whatever. Go do your housewife shit.” Touya really didn’t see himself getting anything better than that, so he made sure Shigaraki put the bracelets on, then left.

As he made his way down the hall, he slammed a fist into Himiko’s door to make sure she was awake. He did the same for Shoto, despite knowing he had already been up to take a shower, just for good measure.

Touya started on scrambled eggs, just as Shoto emerged from his room. He was fully dressed, hair still damp, and fiddling with the small silver staple that adorned his right ear. Seeing something so normal seemed to finally impress upon his mind just how strange and distressing this morning had been. Touya is missing. The thought slammed into him like a freight train. He turned back to the eggs, determined not to let Shoto know that anything was amiss. He would tell them both after school today once he knew more. There was no need for them to be stressing about this too.

Still, he noticed that his hands were shaking slightly as he plated the eggs and rice and set them on the table.

“Did you have a busy patrol yesterday?” Shoto asked in his typical monotone. He noticed. Touya’s muscles often struggled to cooperate after extreme exertion or the advent of new burns.

“It was fine.” Is all Touya offers. Himiko has joined them at the table at this point.

“Is Shimmer not gonna join for breakfast?” She pouted.

“Why do you ask? He sleeps late a lot after night patrols.” Yes, very smooth Touya.

“He didn’t have a night patrol yesterday,” she whined, “he had that call out to a rescue site, and so he went to bed early.” Sometimes Touya really hated how observant that girl was. She sniffed as Touya passed her a plate. “Did you sleep alright?” She asked. Touya had learned over the last year that she could smell abnormally well. He must have remnants of a fear in his scent; she always asked how they slept when she suspected nightmares. Touya tried to sound reassuring,

“I slept fine, thanks for asking, Himiko.”

The rest of their breakfast passed in relative silence. When the two teens got up to head to the train station, Touya followed. Shoto cocked his head, and Himiko asked why he was walking with them, but Touya gave no answer beyond simply shrugging and saying he felt like it today.

He didn’t want to let them out of his sight. Part of him was scared that they’d get replaced by weird, alternate versions of themselves as well. That would make no sense, of course, but that thought didn’t calm Touya’s nerves, so he walked with them, doing a very good job at looking bored.

Once Shoto and Himiko were on their respective trains, Touya turned back in the direction he had come. He used the walk back to compose himself. He needed to think. Who could help him figure out what was going on? More importantly, who could help figure out how to get Tenko back? He tromped back up the steps to their apartment, steadying his nerves. Keep it together, Touya, you can do this. For dramatic effect he slammed the door open as he re-entered the apartment, putting on his best lazy drawl and calling,

“Honey, I’m home!”

Chapter Text

Tenko woke up to a pounding at his door and an annoyed Aizawa telling him to hurry up and get ready. Having had no way to set an alarm clock, Tenko had woken up egregiously late, and they were going to be late for class if he didn’t hurry. Great. This is exactly what I needed. He thought grumpily as he hastily threw on a pair of jeans, a random T-shirt, and the black hoodie he had gotten yesterday. He’d left his hair tie in last night which, with all his writhing, meant that it was now matted in his hair, but Tenko quickly concluded that he didn’t have time to deal with that right now. He stepped out of his dorm to find that Aizawa was holding open his own apartment door, looking completely done with the situation.

Avoiding eye contact, Tenko speed-walked into Aizawa’s apartment and made a beeline for the bathroom. It took him barely five minutes to take care of the basics. He nabbed a hairbrush that was laying on the counter so that he could tame his hair later and exited. His instinct was to shove it in his hoodie pocket, but he kept it in his hand as he left the apartment, not wanting Aizawa to think that he was stealing it. Neither of them were talkative as they made their way to the classroom.

Tenko had just crossed the threshold into the classroom when the bell rang. He could still feel eyes on him, and hear murmurs being tossed around the room, but this time they ranged everywhere from curious to hostile. Avoiding eye contact with everyone, Tenko plopped down on the ground to the left of Aizawa’s desk, sitting in a criss-cross position with his back resting against the wall. 

Aizawa seemed about as eager to address the class’s varying questions— and hostilities— as Tenko was, which was to say, not at all. The man launched straight into what seemed to be his normally planned lesson. Is he a genius or an idiot when it comes to wrangling teenagers? At this point, I really can’t tell. First years had heroics training, of course, but that was primarily practical work, so at UA homeroom doubled as a general intro to the more ‘textbook-forward’ aspects of heroics. Case in point, Aizawa’s lesson today appeared to be an intro to hero specializations.

“Most of you know that there are two major factions of heroes:” he began, “daylight, or limelight heroes, and underground. That’s an oversimplification. Many heroes lie in between these two categorizations. For example, some heroes most would call ‘underground’ simply don’t seek attention, rather than actively avoiding it or concealing their hero identity altogether. Additionally, there are multiple different types of work which heroes can specialize in. Does anyone know what some are?” 

Tenko began to zone out of the lesson, and instead focus on taming his hair. He first began by extricating the hair tie as gently as he could. He zoned in and out of the lesson as he brushed at his hair, vaguely registering that Aizawa had begun listing examples of hero specializations on the board as the class offered them up. Tenko brushed through his hair, pleased that nearly all the tangles were now taken care of. Once the brush ran through easily, he picked the hair tie back up from where he had placed it on the ground beside him, and began putting his hair into a basic three-stranded braid.

He wasn’t great with his hair; a half-back or a ponytail were his typical solutions for when he needed it out of the way, and most of the time when he didn’t strictly need to tie it back, he just left it loose. Touya was the one who enjoyed experimenting with Tenko’s hair. He particularly enjoyed braiding it. It became almost a fidget for him to braid Tenko’s hair during movie nights or quiet moments when they just existed together. He had learned multiple styles over the years, and enjoyed using Tenko as his guinea pig. Tenko hoped that someday Himiko would feel close enough with Touya to let him braid her hair. But all Tenko could do was a three-stranded braid, so he finished it quickly and wrapped the hair tie around the end, missing home badly. To distract him from the loneliness, Tenko tuned back into Aizawa’s lesson. 

“Those are the main hero specializations. Of course, you will all have unique skills and specialties based on your quirk, but these four are the primary designations that would likely affect your government registration or may require unique certifications.” Tenko examined the board, on which, ‘Rescue,’ ‘Healing,’ ‘Investigative,’ and, ‘Undercover’ were listed, along with notations about whether daylight or underground heroes were more likely to specialize in them. That’s it, huh?

“Well, there’s also K-2.” Tenko grumbled under his breath. He wasn’t surprised Aizawa hadn’t mentioned it, but it always rubbed him the wrong way. Why, though, he wasn’t exactly sure. He could never deduce whether he had an aversion to government ‘secrets,’ or whether he selfishly just never liked the underlying implication that it, and by extension he, was a shameful part of heroics. He hadn’t really meant to say anything, but maybe part of him, still writhing and itching deep inside, wanted to see how they’d respond. Aizawa cocked his head,

“What did you say, Shimura?” he questioned. Last chance to back out.

“I said, there’s also K-2 ops.” Tenko repeated more loudly. Aizawa didn’t respond right away. Unfortunately for him, that meant that his students beat him to it.

“What the heck is that?” Kirishima asked off the bat. Several others made noises of curiosity. 

“Yeah, I’ve never heard of that before!” Ashido piped up.

“It refers to heroes who are chosen to operate under the K-2 protocol,” Tenko offered, keeping his tone neutral. He fixed Aizawa with a stare, “right, Aizawa-san?”  Aizawa looked stern, but, Tenko was surprised to find, also curious. He could see the man weighing his options.

“I’ll admit, I’ve only ever heard about it vaguely.” The man acquiesced. Figures, his quirk wouldn’t necessarily be the best candidate.

“Officially, it’s called the Kill To Save protocol, but that sounds clunky and misleadingly altruistic, so we usually call it K-2-S, or just K-2.” The room had gone quiet. This was the most that Tenko had ever held class 1-A’s collective attention. “You guys haven’t covered lethal force yet, right?” A couple shaking heads. “Yeah, they don’t usually teach it to first years. Anybody know the rules around lethal force in heroics?” A kid with cropped blue hair and rectangular glasses shot his hand into the air. Tenko waited for him to speak. He didn’t. Tenko blinked, then remembered to call on him. Apparently some of class 1-A actually did wait their turn to speak.

“Uh, yeah.” Tenk gestured in the boy’s direction. The boy began speaking enthusiastically,

“The use of lethal force, while an unfortunate necessity in some cases, is heavily discouraged within pro heroics.” The kid seemed to be giving a presentation to the whole class with the way he was gesturing. “Our primary focus as heroes should always be preserving human life, no matter whose it is.” So righteous. Naive. Though I guess they’re meant to be.

“Uh, thanks…” Tenko trailed off, not knowing the kid’s name.

“Iida Tenya” The boy introduced, “I’m always happy to share my knowledge.”

“Right. Well, anyway, Iida’s right. It dampens the shiny facade of heroics if heroes are constantly just offing villains, but the reality is that some people need to be taken out by whatever means necessary. K-2 designates HPSC responsibility for determining when certain threats need to be eliminated.”

“So, is it like a notice that goes out to heroes?” Ashido asked.

“Not quite.” Tenko replied. “Most heroes really want to avoid having any kills on their record, but some of us have quirks that are so suited to killing,” Tenko shrugged, grinning ruefully, “well, it would just be a waste not to have us do it.” He let the silence hang briefly in the room. “Anyway, that’s what K-2 ops are. Just another type of specialization.” He tried to sound nonchalant, despite how tense the atmosphere had become. 

“That’s not…” Ashido trailed off.

“So you’re like, what, a government-sponsored merc?” Kaminari called out. Tenko shrugged.

“That’s wildly unethical!” Iida explained. 

“Well, it’s legal!” Tenko responded, unable to keep a hint of tension from his own voice, “It’s legal and it’s necessary, whether you like it or not.”

“It makes a twisted sense that one would have to carry that darkness…” the bird-headed boy commented. The silence had fully dissolved right now as side-conversations spread across the room. 

“How many people have you killed?” It was Hagakure that asked. That shut the class up. 

“Under K-2 or outside of it?” Tenko asked. Way to make them like you. Tenko’s mood had grown darker. So what if you shock them with some cynicism? All they see is Shigaraki anyway.

“How about both?” This time it was Kirishima, and as opposed to the interest which he had displayed when first questioning Tenko, and the jovial attitude he appeared to have with his peers, his voice was hard.

“Don’t know.” 

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Kirishima pressed. He sounded wary. Tenko looked at the class at large. He was having trouble holding any one person’s gaze.

“I stopped counting when I was eight.” He wasn’t sure what intonation to use, so it came out sounding blank, which matched how Tenko felt inside. It was the truth after all; that’s what they wanted, wasn’t it? The class had all stopped to listen to those particular questions, but now they all began talking over each other. Some were discussing amongst themselves, but others were hurling accusations or questions at Tenko.

“When you were eight? What?”

“Why were you…?”

“... be a hero?”

“Murderer!” someone hissed. It wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t drowned out by the cacophony of other statements either. I don’t care. I’ve been called that for years. Besides, they’re right. I don’t care. I don’t. There was one other word that stood out among the rest, passed around the class on whispering lips: Shigaraki. That’s all they see. That’s all you are, really. The blankness was driven out by yet another wave of itching.

“Enough.” Aizawa stepped in, “Class is almost over. Take a few minutes to go over your notes and ask me any other questions you have about the lesson.” Ojiro’s hand shot up. Aizawa acknowledged him. The blond boy doesn’t look at Tenko, instead, his eyes bore into Aizawa.

“Why is a murderer allowed in our classroom? Why are you letting this happen?” His voice was hard and angry. Aizawa actually looked a little taken aback.

“I understand that this is a strange situation—”

“It’s not a strange situation, Sensei.” Ojiro was polite but firm. “It’s having a confessed killer in the school. How is he even allowed to be a hero? This isn’t right.” Aizawa sighs, looking tired.

“I understand, Ojiro. I’ll bring it up with Nedzu and we’ll work something out.” The bell rings, and class is over, leaving Tenko, once again, alone with Aizawa.

—

Tenko sat without incident through Aizawa’s next two periods. Instead of heading to lunch afterwards, Aizawa led Tenko to Nedzu’s office. The door swung open before either of them knocked. Nedzu was facing the door, looking at them expectantly.

“Ah! Aizawa-kun, Shimura-kun! So glad you decided to pay me a visit.” He sounded delighted. Aizawa wasted no time,

“My class feels uncomfortable with Shimura’s presence.” Aizawa stated bluntly. “Frankly, I’m unsure whether it’s a good idea to continue our current arrangement.”

“Yes, I’m aware of the situation.” No surprise there, Nedzu seemed to differ very little between universes. “However,” the rat continued, “I still think there is much we can all learn from Shimura-kun, including your class. Shimura-kun, please excuse my bluntness, but any insight into your quirk and its limitations, or any knowledge that you may have that will translate across realities could be useful to us here when we inevitably encounter Shigaraki again. Additionally, Shimura-kun, there is still the question of how to get you home, and I firmly believe that UA is your best resource for figuring that out.”

“Great. But all that means that I just have to be at UA. Not with 1-A or Aizawa, especially if they don’t want me.” Tenko responded. 

“Hmmm,” Nedzu gave him the grace of pretending like Tenko’s input would affect his final decision, “While you are correct, Shimura-kun, I think class 1-A would benefit most from the knowledge you can offer, since they unfortunately seem to be the League’s primary focus. However, if, as Aizawa-kun noted, they are uncomfortable with your presence, we could make some adjustments. I suggest that from now on, Shimura-kun, you will simply attend afternoon heroics lessons with 1-A, where your knowledge could best be utilized anyway.”

“Fine by me.” Tenko shrugged, “Not like I’m any use in the classroom, obviously.”

“I’m concerned about putting Shimura and my students together in a training environment, given their traumatic histories with Shigaraki.” Aizawa brought up. Nedzu looked fairly unconcerned.

“I trust your judgement, Aizawa-kun.” He said cheerily, “Of course, be careful to avoid any traumatic situations, but I believe in your ability to draw a line.”

“Great.” Aizawa didn’t seem to think it was great, but it was clear by now that both Tenko and Aizawa understood the futility of arguing with Nedzu. The principal clapped his hands together,

“Fantastic! Now, I believe you both still have some time for lunch, if you hurry.”

“Wait,” Tenko remembered to ask, “what can I do during the mornings then?” Nedzu hummed.

“What would you like to do, Shimura-kun?” He asked, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. Tenko thought briefly,

“Research.” He decided, “about what kind of quirk may have brought me here, and how to get home, and, uh, other things. I have questions for this universe too.” 

“Delightful, that can certainly be arranged. You know where the school library is, I hope?” Tenko nodded. “Excellent! Then you will head directly there in the mornings. If that becomes insufficient, let me know and I will find another solution. Now, you both should really be running along!”

Aizawa and Tenko wasted no time in taking their leave, both aware of their dwindling time for lunch. 

“Looks like you’re coming to heroics with me.” 

“I’m sure your class will be thrilled.” Tenko tried to match the dryness of Aizawa’s tone. He thought that, given time, he could perhaps master that deadpan expression too.

Chapter Text

Tenko decided he didn’t want to be here anymore. Aizawa had just led them into the cafeteria, where they could grab something from lunch rush then hopefully retreat to the teachers’ lounge to eat for a few minutes before the first years’ heroics classes would start. But although they had just entered the cafeteria, Tenko could already feel the stares and hear the murmurs as they walked across the room. And he knew he wasn’t just imagining it. The events of the morning had left him itchy, and the whispers seemed to crawl along his skin, causing him to twitch slightly.

Thankfully, since it was so late in the lunch hour, there was no line to grab food, and so they were soon headed back towards the cafeteria doors. Tenko held his lunch tray close to his chest in one hand as they navigated between two tables full of students, trying to avoid calling attention to themselves. Tenko accidentally locked eyes with a blonde boy sitting a few paces ahead. The boy, noticing, ducked back to facing his table. Tenko walked past him, eyes still drawn to the crown of his head, feeling his lingering stare. It itched. It itched all the way to his bones.

You could make it stop.

The dark thought floated up from the back of his mind where the constant susurration of deadly thoughts always swarmed.

It would be so easy. Just place your hand on his head and… like popping a balloon. A water balloon. Tenko’s hand twitched. It was so easy to picture. He shoved it in his pocket and forced his eyes forward and focused on the back of Aizawa’s head as they exited the cafeteria. The experience left his skin roiling and his heart pounding as they made their way into the teachers’ lounge. He always hated those reminders of what a truly despicable being he was deep down. Who even fucking thinks like that. Unsatisfied and ashamed, he itched even more.

The teachers’ lounge was, blessedly, empty except for Aizawa and Tenko and for a few minutes the two ate in silence. Well, Tenko tried to eat. He picked at his curry for a few minutes before deciding he could no longer sit still. 

“I need to use the restroom,” he announced, standing suddenly. Aizawa appraised him for a moment.

“Fine.” He decided, checking his watch, “There are eight minutes left until the end of lunch. 1-A is training indoors at Gym Gamma today. Meet me there before the end of the passing period.” Tenko nodded in assent, then left the room.

— 

Thankfully, UA’s layout in this universe seemed to be identical to his own. It was barely more than muscle memory to make his way to Gym Gamma, and he arrived before any of the students, though they likely weren’t far behind. Letting the door swing closed behind him as he entered, he turned to take in the familiar setting. It was as pristine as it always was before training sessions, awaiting whatever carnage would fall upon it today. What are they doing today anyway? I doubt Aizawa would want me to be involved, considering how the morning went. Movement in the corner of the room drew Tenko’s eye, and Tenko spied a familiar figure setting up a portable whiteboard at the opposite end of the gym. Instinctively, Tenko began to walk across the gym towards the man to greet him. He was several steps in, and the skinny figure had straightened up and begun to turn around to see who had entered the gym, when Tenko remembered: this wasn’t his world. The implications of that struck him instantly, and his heart dropped into his stomach. He stopped walking. He was just past the halfway point of the gym. His hand, which he had begun to raise in casual greeting, paused in mid air. He locked eyes with All Might as the man fully turned to face him. 

All Might instantly recognized Tenko, and shifted to a battle-ready stance, though he remained in his small form.

“Shigaraki,” the man growled, “how dare you come here? How dare you threaten my students once again?” His voice was as booming as it had ever been, seemingly at odds with his nearly emaciated figure. Tenko took a step backwards, raising his hands in a placating manner.

“Toshinori-san,” Tenko started, trying to sound calm but confident, “It’s not what you think. I can explain.” All Might only bristled further.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing at, villain, but even as weakened as I am, I will not allow you to threaten this school so long as I am here.” All Might seemed to inflate, and in under a second he was in his muscled form and leaping towards Tenko, drawing back his fist.

Tenko knew he was no match for this man with just Decay. As he shifted his stance, preparing to dodge, he called upon that massive reserve of power, allowing it to pour over the mental dam which usually kept it locked away. He let the power spread through his limbs and flood out of his skin, feeling the instant strength and speed it lended. He leaped away as All Might came down, rolling and coming up standing with his back against one of the Gym’s walls. All Might, as deceptively nimble as always, course corrected and came at him, clearly planning to pin Tenko against the wall.

From all their training back in his world, Tenko knew all too well that outrunning All Might was a fool’s errand. He only stood a chance if he threw in some defence. Tenko leapt up at the last second, clearing All Might’s head easily with the strength that One for All gave him. He came down right behind All Might and spun around to give a good, powered-up kick to the man’s back left side, right over the wound Tenko knew lay there. It won’t slow him for long, but I just need a few seconds. Get some distance and think of a plan. Think, idiot, think! Tenko was sprinting to the opposite side of the gym. When he drew near to one corner he stopped and spun around, leaning low and drawing his palm across the ground, allowing cracks of decay to spread out from it. As he drew his hand back, he straightened quickly and delivered a kick to the weakened concrete, causing it to jut up haphazardly in an arc on the ground in front of him like a makeshift barrier. Knowing that this would provide him a miniscule advantage at best, Tenko looked up to gauge where All Might was and what his next move may be, expecting the man to already be dashing at him.

Except he wasn’t. Tenko looked up just in time to see the man deflate, and press one hand into the wall in front of him for balance. He heard a hacking cough and could see blood dripping from All Might’s lips from across the gym. Tenko was frozen, but All Might was not. As soon as the coughing momentarily abated, he spun around, and assumed a fighting stance, ready to fight to the death even in his clearly weakened state. 

Finally, Tenko found the wherewithal to move. He ran forward, leaping over the makeshift barricade he had created and jogging towards where All Might stood. All Might had reached one hand towards his waist, where he pulled a knife out of a sheath that had previously been camouflaged in a specialized pocket of his khaki pants. Tenko noted that the pants were ripped at the seams in a couple places, as though they weren't meant to fit All Might’s larger form. He had no time to contemplate that, however, as All Might drew the knife, raising his free hand in a defensive position. Tenko had almost reached the man by the time this registered; he had been so damn focused on the trail of blood running down the man’s chin from one corner of his mouth. Once he realized, however, he pulled up short a few feet from All Might, One for All still roiling across his skin.

“Toshinori-san, let me—”

“Foul villain!” All Might boomed, “Even in this form I will resist you until the end. You will not bring more terror upon these kids so long as I can help it.” The man was as determined as ever, but clearly so weak. It made something wriggle unpleasantly in Tenko’s chest. He couldn’t help reaching forward once more, instinctually trying to help the man who was one of his greatest mentors. All Might went in for the attack, swinging low at Tenko’s belly, but his specialty had always been with overpowered punches, and never knives. Tenko caught the man’s wrist, pinky carefully extended, and yanked it to the side, pulling All Might off balance and swiping out a low kick to the man’s feet to ensure that he fell. With his other hand, he semi-caught the man, slowing his fall before he hit the floor. 

As this happened, the gym doors swept open and a chattering class 1-A entered. They immediately fell silent as they took in the scene. Tenko pictured how he looked from their perspectives, standing over All Might, who was on the ground, visibly wheezing. He became hyper aware of the way One for All patterned his skin. It looked like black mist, forming jagged patches that rose to life from his skin, then swirled and writhed before fading back into it, dark and corrupted. He released All Might and stumbled backwards. All Might, ever the fighter, wasted no time in jumping back to his feet, despite what clearly bad shape he was in, and stumbling to stand between Tenko and the class. 

Tenko saw his muscles momentarily ripple as he tried to engage his muscular form, but before he could fully regain it, he deflated again, stumbling and needing to lean on one knee for support, hacking up more blood. Still, he kept both his eyes and the knife raised and trained on Tenko. He could see hatred in those piercing blue eyes; it made his skin burn. He could see fear underlying that hatred; that felt as though the man’s knife was twisting in his ribcage.

“Stop.” Another voice commanded. Tenko had never thought he’d see the day he was truly glad to see Eraserhead, but all he felt was relief as the man entered the room. Tenko felt his quirk disappear, One for All seeping abruptly back beneath his skin, retreating to that contained little place where he usually kept it. Aizawa marched across the room, and laid a hand on All Might’s bony shoulder.

“Toshinori-san,” Aizawa sounded almost comforting, “that’s not Shigaraki.”

“What do you mean, Aizawa-kun?” The man asked, still at full volume, “Do you not see the villain standing directly in front of you?”

“I see exactly what you see.” Aizawa assured, “And I know he looks like Shigaraki, but he is not. That is Shimura Tenko. He is Shigaraki’s counterpart from an alternate reality.”

“So he is Shigaraki!” All Might exclaimed, “Aizawa-kun, what—”

“He is Shimura Tenko.” Aizawa repeated, “He may be physically the same as Shigaraki, but he is not. He is not a villain in his universe. Nedzu and Tsukauchi have vetted his story.” Aizawa was calm, but firm. All Might straightened up fully, lowering his knife, but still glaring at Tenko with distrust.

“How do you know this is not some trick?” He questioned warily.

“Do you know of anything that could bypass both Nedzu’s intelligence and Tsukauchi’s quirk?” Aisawa asked.

“No.” All Might admitted, still stern, “But Shigaraki is mentored by All for One. I’ve learned to never discount anything when that… man is involved. He can do things that everyone, including me, would have deemed impossible until he did them. Doesn’t this seem suspicious? How can you be so sure?”

“All Might-sensei?” A tentative voice spoke up from near the door. It was Midoriya, Tenko realized. All Might immediately shifted some of his focus.

“Yes, my boy?” He asked.

“Aizawa-sensei is right.” Midoriya sounded firm. “I get what you’re saying about All for One, and all, and I was wondering the same thing too, but what I just saw… well, Decay doesn’t look like that here, does it?” All Might turned his head to look at Midoriya, who had slowly made his way nearer to where Tenko and the others were standing. They locked eyes, and Tenko could see some sort of understanding pass between them. All Might’s eyes widened fractionally.

“All right.” the man agreed, relaxing more fully. He turned his focus back to Tenko. “I’m sorry, Shimura, was it?” The man’s eyebrows creased at his own words, and Tenko knew he had made the connection to Shimura Nana. Did he not know before? If not, then Tenko probably just made this man’s world a whole lot more complicated.

“Ye-yeah.” Tenko’s voice cracked. Shit. That was not what he wanted, but he couldn’t help it. He still felt All Might’s hate burning across his skin. He could still picture himself standing over All Might like a villain as the class walked in. He could hear the murmurs coming from the rest of the class, who seemed to still be huddling by the door.

“I…” All Might took a deep breath, seemingly composing himself as well, “I apologise for the misunderstanding, and for attacking you.”

“You were protecting the school, and your kids. I don’t blame you, after learning about what kind of villain I am here.” Tenko said it matter of factly, covering up the mess of emotions that were warring inside him. Besides, it’s not like it was that much of a fight, he thought with a twinge of guilt. His gaze drifted back behind All Might, pointedly ignoring the man’s piercing gaze, and focused on the students, still clustered near the front door. A few were inspecting the makeshift barrier that ruined one corner. Whoops. “Sorry about the gym.” Tenko mumbled, looking at Aizawa then All Might. I’m sorry you’re hurt. I’m sorry that I can’t tell if I’m sorry for causing this situation or if I’m just sorry for myself. At the mention of the gym, however, Aizawa jumped into action.

“It will be fixed after class.” He started calmly. “Speaking of, our time is short, and we must begin the lesson. You lot, get changed, we’re already almost five minutes into the period.” Aizawa gestured to the class at large, who dutifully departed to their respective changing rooms. 

“Can I go sit down or…” Tenko mumbled.

“Yes, that’s fine.” Aizawa decided, “Thursdays are typically peer sparring sessions. I have some thoughts on what you may be able to do tomorrow, but for now you are free to sit and observe.” Tenko didn’t need to be told twice. He retreated to one wall of the gym and plopped to the floor. The short walk reminded him of how shaky he was. 

What happened to him? All Might here was clearly in worse shape than in Tenko’s universe. Did that mean he was more injured? Did he give the quirk away earlier? Either way, you hurt him. You proved to all of them that you’re the villain they saw when they first met you. A small, logical part of Tenko, knew that wasn’t quite true, but the rest of him, writhing internally with shame, self-hatred, and the seemingly hundreds of crawling, prying eyes he had endured the past few days, didn’t care.

He broke out of his maelstrom of thoughts as he watched the class prepare for sparring. Aizawa had marked a large sparring arena in the middle of the gym, and explained that the winner would be the last person remaining in the square. It was a pretty basic drill, one Tenko had done hundreds of times during his own time at UA, yet he paid attention, curious to learn more about this class and their quirks. ‘

First up was the girl with the bushy ponytail— Yaoyorozu, Tenko learned— versus Ojiro. Tenko watched on passively. It was clear Ojiro wanted to go in for close combat, which made sense given his physical quirk, but for the first part of the battle Yaoyorozu kept him at bay with various objects that she seemed to create from her skin. Eventually, however, Ojiro managed to get in close. The boy was clearly strong and agile; he probably had years worth of martial arts training judging by his movements, and for a moment Yaoyorozu looked thrown. Then, she drew a long metal staff from her stomach. Tenko recognized it instantly as a bo staff, since that was one of his primary nonlethal weapons in his own hero work.

She wielded it decently, Tenko thought, but she was far from a master. He mentally began compiling a list of tips to correct her stance, and the way she handled the weapon. Ultimately, Ojiro managed a strong swipe with his tail that threw Yaoyorozu out of the ring. She was clearly versatile and powerful, but in hand-to-hand, the ease of movement that Ojiro had due to experience won out. Tenko almost got up to go give Yaoyorozu some pointers, but decided that likely wouldn’t go over well. Instead he settled to watch the next match, which happened to be Shoto versus Midoriya.

Tenko was curious to see how this universe’s Shoto would measure up against his own. I wonder what his life is like here? He expected for Shoto to be his main focus, but he was distracted when Midoriya fired up his quirk. 

It looked so different from his, but still, he recognized it instantly. Was it because he held the quirk too? Some kind of sixth sense? Or perhaps Tenko had just grown intimately familiar with how a body moved when it was propelled by One for All. He’s the successor here. He watched the kid leap, kick and block— moving faster and with more strength than any normal human— as green lightning crackled across his skin. Jealousy rose, hot and sudden in Tenko’s chest. It felt like it was choking him. He was shocked by its intensity, then ashamed that he was jealous of a teenager. It looks right on him. So bright and strong. It looks right on him in a way it never did with me. Jealousy mixed with that familiar, ever-present self loathing until he felt like he was drowning. He brought his hands to his neck, searching for something to ground him, and tried desperately to turn his attention to Shoto. 

He was nearly identical to the Shoto that he knew, but as he watched him attack and dodge, he noticed that he favored his ice. It was slight, but there was a definite hesitation before he used his left side, like a limp left over from an old leg injury. It was tough to tell, but he was pretty sure that he was more hesitant with it than his Shoto. Perhaps he trains less with Touya? Tenko wasn’t sure why that would be, but he could think of very few positive possibilities. Either way, it seemed like a tiny, ingrained hesitancy that the boy hadn’t been able to fully shake off. Midoriya seemed to know this, as he ever so slightly targeted Shoto’s left side throughout their spar, getting in close which made his hesitancy more prominent. It finally paid off for the kid, as he landed a kick that managed to catch Shoto off guard and send him out of bounds. Midoriya jogged over to help Shoto up, and the two seemed to congratulate each other. He was oddly proud of this alternate universe Shoto for making friends. The thought sent a twinge of homesickness through his gut. Fortunately for him, the wholesome scene was quickly broken up as Bakugou stormed into the arena.

“Deku, Icyhot, move it!” He hollered as he motioned towards a tall boy who seemed to have multiple arms. “Come on, hurry up. We don’t have all day! If you’re fuckin’ scared just say so.” They began their match shortly thereafter, but Tenko’s thoughts drifted away. Deku. Midoriya Izuku was previously unknown to him, but he knew exactly where he had heard the name Deku before. There was a file with that name back home on his desk. That’s why the kid looked so damn familiar… The realization was quickly followed by a dawning horror and a fresh wave of that self loathing. If he’s the successor in this universe… then all of it… it’s my fault.

Tenko felt so wrong in his own skin. Inside of him, he could feel the deep abyss of power that was One for All; he felt burdened by the quirk that he now knew, with absolute certainty, was never meant for him. He made to scratch his neck some more, only to realize that he had never stopped scratching earlier, and small rivulets of blood were oozing their way down towards his collarbone. Good. The scratch marks stung where old scabs had been displaced and new scrapes had been opened. The pain seemed like little penance for all the sorrow he had unknowingly, and knowingly, caused, but blood at least soothed the itch that still raced across his dry skin.

Chapter Text

As the class wrapped up and the students made their way to the locker rooms to change, All Might made his way over to Tenko. He quickly removed his hand from his neck, where his scratching had calmed to absentmindedly picking at scabs, and tried to tug his hoodie further up on his shoulders to hide the carnage.

“I believe you and I should talk, my boy.” All Might began, looking oddly wary. He was fidgeting with his hands, Tenko observed. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Tenko agreed, although he had half a mind to make a beeline to the nearest escape route. Seeing his mentor so weakened and so wary of him was incredibly disquieting. They stood in the gym as the class began to file out of the gym and back to the dorms. Aizawa gave the pair space and waited near the gym entrance. 

“I’m sorry.” Tenko said, partly because he was sorry for scaring the man earlier, but also because he was sorry for so many other things at the moment, but didn’t know how to voice it.

“It’s quite alright, Shimura-kun,” All Might replied, “It was an unfortunate situation, and frankly, I’m surprised I wasn’t informed of your presence here earlier. It seems like a lot could have been avoided had Nedzu bothered to discuss the situation with the staff at large.” That’s true, why hasn’t the rat decided to do that? Tenko had a sneaking suspicion that Nedzu enjoyed a little bit of chaos. All Might cleared his throat, “Shimura-kun, about your name. I was curious if you had ever heard of—”

“Shimura Nana?” Tenko cut the man off. All Might nodded, slightly taken aback. “Yeah, she was my grandmother.”

“I see.” All Might’s eyes seemed to pierce Tenko’s soul as they scanned his face. “You look like her.” He said after a long moment.

“I don’t think so.” Tenko replied flatly. Try as he might he had never been able to see himself in that one photo he had of that strong, loving woman who haunted his childhood memories. All Might’s eyebrows creased, but he seemed to decide not to press the subject.

“I thought… well, every source said that all of young Kataro’s family died. I never suspected that you—uh, this world’s Shimura Tenko, I suppose— survived. Or I would have…”

“I know.” Tenko supplied. “I know you would have helped. I know that now, at least, I mean… for a long time…” Tenko trailed off, but he didn’t want to bring up the bitterness that he had, truly, left behind. “Anyways, you, or he, or uh… well, my All Might helped me out a lot after I came to UA.”

“Yes,” All Might glanced around the room not-so-subtly before whispering, “I can see he passed One for All to you.” 

“Yeah, he did.” Tenko agreed, breaking the man’s gaze. He couldn’t bear those piercing blue eyes at the moment, afraid of the judgement he may see there. Say it, say that he made a mistake. This All Might didn’t know Tenko, didn’t have a soft spot for him. Surely he would see clearly all that Tenko was, and how darkly One for All manifested for him and be horrified.

“He must trust you deeply then, my boy” was all All Might said. It was a bright spot that, for a moment, staved off his self-doubt. Then, “Was it a villain attack, like the police theorized? I mean, assuming it was the same in your world, do you know what happened to your family? How did you manage to survive?” Any of the levity All Might’s previous faith had provided evaporated from Tenko’s mood. 

“It probably happened the same.” Tenko breathed, “I haven’t looked into it, but, well, I guess that seems most likely. They told you it was a villain attack?” It was incredibly hard, but Tenko drew his gaze upward to meet All Might’s eyes again. He needed to see if the man suspected. Somehow, it was better if this wouldn’t completely blindside him.

“That was the primary theory, yes, given the level of destruction.” There was the barest note of uncertainty in All Might’s voice and Tenko guessed, now that the man knew that Shigaraki Tomura had been born Shimura Tenko, he was beginning to put the pieces together. Just like ripping the band-aid off then.

“Not a villain attack. A quirk manifestation. Mine, specifically.” All Might sucked in a breath. Tenko felt the same blankness he always felt when he talked about that event. The silence hung in the air for a moment. “It wasn’t a villain. It was me. And my quirk can’t kill me so…” Tenko shrugged, “that’s how I survived.” All Might seemed to be at a loss for how to react.

“I’m sorry my boy.” What? The sentence didn’t quite compute. “That… that must have been awful.” Tenko shrugged awkwardly,

“I mean, I wandered the streets for a while. It sucked, I guess.” Funny, how the things he remembered the most clearly from that event were the itching, the exhaustion, and the way his head spun as he staggered through the crowd, seeing nothing but a sea of stranger’s legs. All Might cleared his throat,

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up at UA? I’m assuming you didn’t fall in with All for One like Shigaraki, given…” All Might gestured vaguely in Tenko’s general direction.

“Given I’m not a villain?” Tenko raised an eyebrow. “No I did, actually— ‘fall in’ with All for One, I mean. He’s the one who took me in off the streets. My All Might— when he fought All for One six or so years ago— he found me. I was a villain kid at that point— my record wasn’t exactly clean, so the court gave me an ultimatum. I could either go into the juvenile detention system and figure it out from there, or I could atone for my villainry by becoming a hero. Heh, I guess they thought I was too useful to throw away.” Tenko couldn’t keep all of the bitterness from his tone.

“That’s interesting to hear, Shimura-kun,” All Might responded, looking contemplative. He was so careful, and so awkward around Tenko. Tenko hadn’t realized he took his All Might’s warmth for granted. “I trust, I suppose, that your All Might is cautious enough that, like me, he wouldn’t give the quirk to someone unless he believed in them wholeheartedly. Use it well my boy.” Tenko didn’t expect for that to squeeze his heart like it did. 

“Thanks.” He choked out.

“You, erm, should probably not keep Aizawa-kun waiting any longer.” All Might noted, glancing over to where Aizawa had moved to stand near the doorway, facing the wall and leaning his head on it.

“Right.” Tenko agreed, but as he began to move towards the door he thought of one more thing. “Don’t hold back because he’s Shimura Nana’s grandson.” Tenko said firmly, “If Shigaraki’s like everyone says, then he needs to go down.” Speaking as someone who knows my own evil, I suppose. All Might gave a small, sad smile and rested a hand on Tenko’s shoulder.

“I don’t think it’s my fight anymore, kid.” He said tiredly, “But if it falls to me, I suppose I will keep that in mind.” He withdrew his hand, and Tenko headed for the door.

—

Aizawa didn’t ask about Tenko’s conversation with All Might, for which Tenko was grateful. The man seemed like he wasn’t one to pry, which was something Tenko had come to deeply appreciate about him during the last forty or so hours. Odd, how well they were beginning to mesh together. 

They entered the Heights Alliance dorms again, and Tenko was fully intending to continue directly up to Aizawa’s apartment as he had the day before. He nearly made it, too. Then a timid voice spoke up from behind.

“Um, Aizawa-sensei, Shimura-san?” The pair stopped and turned to see Midoriya, looking up at them from the bottom of the stairs, seeming fidgety. “Uh, well, I was wondering if I could speak to Shimura-san?” Aizawa appraised the boy for a moment.

“Fine.” He decided, “You can come up to my apartment and speak with him there.” Midoriya blanched,

“Well, you see Aizawa-sensei, I kind of need to speak to Shimura-san alone.”

“Why?” Aizawa asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Ummm, no reason, actually, I just wanted to ask him about his quirk and its applications and stuff and I thought it might be kinda annoying for somebody else to sit through and you know what, I think I’m actually kind of tired, maybe I’ll just find another time to talk okay bye.” The boy turned around and scurried off as quickly as he had appeared. Smooth. Tenko couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. So Aizawa doesn’t know about One for All then? Honestly, Tenko was surprised— not at the fact that Midoriya would try to keep One for All a secret, but that Aizawa hadn’t figured it out yet. Honestly, given Midoriya’s severe lack of acting skills, Tenko was shocked.

But he wasn’t going to press the issue. He would rather put off that conversation with Midoriya for as long as possible, or at least until he had more time to think about the implications of how differently One for All manifested for them both. And his Deku… Why had he chosen such a different path? Tenko had a foreboding instinct that it was his fault, but that was also not something he particularly wanted to investigate, even if he was curious as to where his Deku’s story may have gone wrong. He just felt that that investigation would wind up with this world showing him one more way that Tenko was never truly meant to be a hero.

So Tenko hurried up the stairs to the floor where his dorm and Aizawa’s apartment resided. When they reached it, Aizawa beckoned Tenko over to his apartment and they entered, yet again, to the scene of Mic cooking dinner while pop music played in the background, this time with Eri on a stepstool supervising his work. She was the first to notice when Tenko and Aizawa entered the room, startling at the noise of the door. After looking to see who it was, she hastily turned around and tapped Mic on the shoulder.

“What is it, little listener— oh, hi Shou!” Mic turned and spotted them a moment later. “Dinner’s almost ready if you guys wanna set the table.” Aizawa nodded and made his way to the cupboards, Tenko trailing behind. He quietly helped Aizawa set the table, still feeling awkward about being in this oddly familial setting. As with the night before, Tenko mainly focused on eating his food in order to avoid being dragged into the conversation. Mic talked about his day and asked about Aizawa’s. Aizawa then gently coaxed Eri to share her day. It was all so innocuous that Tenko ended up relaxing in his seat and just watching the conversation unfold. That was, unfortunately, his downfall, as it allowed an opening for Aizawa to drag him into the conversation. He had been describing, in child-friendly detail, the mishap during hero training that day when he turned to Tenko and asked,

“By the way, do you know what Midoriya-kun actually wanted to talk to you about?” It was all the confirmation Tenko needed that he had seen through Midoriya’s (admittedly obvious) bluff. Fortunately for both Midoriya and himself however, Tenko had much more practice with lying. It started with telling a portion of the truth,

“No. But I was assuming he has some connection with me—Shigaraki I mean— here though. I mean, you told me about him attacking the class, but I wondered if there’s something beyond that? After learning that his hero name is Deku, well, it would make sense.” Both Mic and Aizawa looked puzzled. 

“What does that have to do with it?” Mic asked first. Tenko got the sense they both suspect the answer, given their conversation last night.

“Deku is the name of a villain in my world.” Tenko explained. “He showed up a little over a year ago, first as an internet alias, and then as this shadowy figure who I spotted a couple times when I was chasing Present Mic and Eraserhead— that’s when I started looking into Deku’s case as well. He’s actually the reason I think those two are connected with All for One, because Deku’s supposedly been spotted controlling nomu. Anyway, that’s why I was thinking there may be a connection here too.”

“I still don’t see why that conversation is something that needs to happen privately.” Aizawa said flatly. Tenko didn’t really have an adequate response for that, so he shrugged, hoping to deflect,

“I dunno. Anyway, it’d be good to talk, now that I know his identity maybe I can figure out why Deku’s a villain—”

“No.” A timid, but firm voice cut him off. Tenko looked over. “No.” Eri repeated, looking nervous, but determined, “Deku-kun isn’t a villain. He saved me.” She looked distraught. Tenko didn’t like that.

“It’s not like that kid.” He said, “I’m from a different world, remember? I was just sayin’ Deku’s a villain there, not here.” Eri was surprisingly stalwart.

“I know.” She admitted, “but I don’t think Deku-kun could ever be a villain. He’s a hero. He’s so good. I mean…” Eri seemed at a loss for words to fully explain what she was trying to say. Her little body trembled with emotion and frustration. “Nomu are experiments.” She said finally. “Deku doesn’t like experiments like that. There’s something wrong. There has to be.” Tears of pent up emotion seemed to be brimming in her eyes now. Tenko recoiled. He hated hurt; physical or emotional. I don’t have the stats for this. What do I do? Agreeing seemed to be his safest course of action.

“Okay, kid, I’ll remember that.” He said, not sure what other assurance to give her— he couldn’t ignore mountains of evidence of criminal activity to spare the feelings of a child. Calm down. That’s not your problem right now. You’re literally not even in that universe. All you can do is investigate; this is just character testimony. Thankfully, that seemed to satisfy Eri at least somewhat and dinner wrapped up quickly from there. Tenko grabbed some clothes from his dorm room and took a shower in Aizawa’s apartment while he and Mic put Eri to bed.

Heading back to his room for good that evening brought up memories of the evening before. Tenko was itchy, but the Itch didn’t seem poised to overtake him like the night before. The Itch never truly went away, of course, but a combination of therapy, regular quirk usage, and targeted suppressants kept it manageable nearly all the time these days. He could finally relax, knowing the monster inside him was properly shackled; but Tenko didn’t have that here.

Here he was viewed as a villain. Here, his worst memories seemed to be lying in wait for him around the corner of every conversation. Here, he didn’t have his suppressants and though he had used his quirk a little, he could still feel it begging for release. Here, he needed to return to his state of constant vigilance. Tenko could feel the Itch, several notches higher in intensity than it typically was, but not unbearable, as he wrapped band aids around his pinky and ring fingers. He could only hope that this was the new ‘normal’ level he would have to adjust to. This isn’t so bad. Besides, I lived like this for years, I’ll be fine. He partially succeeded in quelling the agitation he felt. 

He lay in the darkness, lazily scratching at a spot on his thigh (more out of habit than anything). The itching wasn’t too bad really. It was definitely something he could handle. So why can’t I fall asleep? He shivered slightly as cool air wafted through the vent on the other side of his room. He hadn’t thought the room was cold before, but now laying in bed… he was cold. Funny, I’m usually fucking boiling when I sleep with Touya.

Ah. That made sense, and Tenko felt a little stupid for how long it had taken him to realize it. He’d just grown so used to Touya’s heat. Now he felt empty without it. For the first time, he felt the ache of longing rise in his chest. It probably shouldn’t have taken me this long to actually start missing them… Sure, Tenko had thought about Touya, Shoto, and Himiko during the past two days, but this was the first time he really, truly felt their absence, and it made him feel so fucking cold. 

His dreamscape that night was filled with cold, clear ice, and azure flames dancing on the horizon, always out of reach.

Chapter Text

Aizawa had learned his lesson; this time, he knocked on Tenko’s door earlier the next morning so that he actually had time to get ready before class. Thus, he was able to shower, dress, brush his hair, and eat breakfast. Before leaving his dorm, he grabbed the pack of colored pencils and the graphite ones he had bought when he got the rest of his supplies on Wednesday. He felt lighter, knowing he wouldn’t have to deal with the weighty stares of class 1-A this morning. Instead, he would spend his time in the school library. 

Aizawa walked him to the library even though Tenko assured the man that he knew where he was going and pointed to a table in the corner of the nonfiction section where he could sit and hopefully not attract attention. The man left for his class, and Tenko realized that this was the first time he had really been left alone since arriving. Well, I’m sure the rat is still watching, but, eh, close enough.

He wasted no time in finding some paper he could use, and began organizing his thoughts. The first thing he should probably focus on is finding a way back home. He began writing down everything he remembered from the night he got here, and the day before he arrived. There was the collapsing building where he rescued those little girls. He had been called out midday because of the building collapse, and thus had started his patrol earlier than normal (he usually took night shifts) and had gone home earlier to catch some sleep. Other than that however, his day had been perfectly normal. An out of control quirk or a surprise manifestation seemed like a likely culprit, but how could he possibly investigate that from across universes? Alright, what else is there? 

The first image that came into his mind were those creepy projector-esque eyes of the nomu that night. Tenko broke open his pack of colored pencils and let the drawing begin taking shape, following the image in his head. Next up was All for One, who Tenko now knew had just been a projection from that nomu instead of the real deal. Still, he drew the man, putting him down on paper to get the image out of his head. Amongst his sketches he scribbled notes: observations from his memory, random theories, and snippets of the conversation he remembered. Ujiko’s words stood out to him on the page,

“Interesting. Of course it makes sense, given that alternate circumstances would have had to transpire…” That makes it seem like he knew about the whole alternate universe thing… Tenko did not like what that implied.

On one hand, it would be easier to investigate this universe’s All for One than it would be to investigate a random little girl’s quirk from an entire universe away. On the other hand, if this was a plot and not an accident like he had initially assumed then that would make it a whole lot less likely that the quirk would just wear off. It also meant he might have to make contact with All for One in order to get back home.

The tip of the pencil that Tenko was holding snapped. He had been drawing the bar, shadowy and dark as it was that night, with the ominous figure of All for One facing him from the corner. Damnit. Tenko really didn’t like where his current train of thought was leading him. Okay. Research. Control the game instead of letting it play you. Tenko really missed his video games right now, more specifically the distraction they provided. Instead, he stood up and made his way over to one of the library’s computers. He decided to switch topics to hopefully calm his anxiety.

So, naturally, Tenko began researching himself. There were plenty of articles about Shigaraki Tomura. Most reported on his various attacks on class 1-A, although some more recent articles reported on how he had apparently kidnapped a member of the Shie Hassaikai, Overhaul, who had been being transported to prison. One of those articles had a video attached, which proclaimed to be recovered dash cam footage from a police cruiser at the scene. Tenko clicked.

It was so odd, to see himself appear out of the back of a van and attack the police escort that was with the vehicle transporting overhaul. They were right, Tenko was nearly identical to Shigaraki. He could feel the phantom pressure of the hands that his counterpart wore. Tenko hadn’t felt their restraint for years, yet now he could almost feel the sickly calm and the unpleasant but soothing weight of those hands through the screen.

And there was Touya too, all blazing fire, burn scars, and staples. He, at least, was more distinctly different from Tenko’s boyfriend. Touya’s healing process was more physically evident than Tenko’s; while Tenko’s battles were largely internal, Touya had the added factor of dealing with his burn scars. By now, he had gone through multiple reconstructive surgeries to bind those stubborn scars more firmly to his healthy skin, eliminating the need for staples and greatly reducing his risk of infection.

Clearly this Touya had not gone through that same process. He had all the scars and staples that Tenko remembered him having at seventeen, just with a few added years.  

Tenko watched as he, Touya, and a masked man Tenko didn’t recognize brutalized the security that had been there to transport Overhaul. The dash cam footage was largely obscured by a crack in the windshield, but Tenko could still make out most of the proceedings. He could see the way Shigaraki fought, the way he disintegrated Overhaul’s remaining hand, and the manic grin on his face. When the video finished he opened a new tab and searched for other videos showing Shigaraki. There were relatively few clips, but each one of them told Tenko the same story.

They were frighteningly similar. It was odd, the way his brain instinctively accepted the fact that the man on the screen was him and Tenko had to consciously remind himself that he wasn’t. But Shigaraki’s movements, his attitude, and his creepy flair were nearly a mirror image of himself. A hair’s breadth of distance was all that separated them: the line between villain and hero. How can I call myself a hero if this is what villain me looks like? We’re practically the same character!

Tenko didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. He especially didn’t like the way these realizations made his skin crawl. Desperate to get them out, he began scribbling his observations down on the blank sheet of paper he had brought with him. His notes however, quickly turned into him sketching a particular image from one of the videos. It was one of the few angles where Shigaraki’s head was tilted in such a way that you could see his manic grin behind the hand he wore on his face. That grin easily took shape on the page beneath Tenko’s hand. It felt so familiar. Tenko was sure without a mirror or photographs that it was the same one he wore in the heat of battle. No wonder the public despises me.

He couldn’t take this anymore. He could feel himself spiraling. Abruptly, Tenko exited out of the tab, balled up that piece of paper in his fist,— careful to hold one pinky out— stood up quickly and turned around to head back to his table.

Only to nearly bowl over Midoriya Izuku, who had seemingly materialized behind him.

“Gah!” Tenko exclaimed in surprise, recoiling. He overbalanced, and had to place a hand on the table behind him to keep from tipping over. “The fuck are you doing here!” Tenko exclaimed a little too loudly for the quiet library. He distinctly heard an annoyed ‘shhhhhh!’ from the row of shelves to his left. 

Midoriya looked nearly as surprised as Tenko felt and, to his credit, he also immediately looked apologetic for startling them both.

“Ah! I’m sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” He yelped several times during those few moments of commotion. Once Tenko had his balance back (thankfully without accidentally disintegrating anything) he took in the situation and realized that Midoriya was almost certainly here to talk about One for All. Great.

“Did you sneak away from class just to come sneak up on me?” Tenko asked.

“N-no!” Midoriya quickly assured him, “Uh, neither actually. I really didn’t mean to sneak up on you Shimura-san— I’m so sorry! And I didn’t sneak away from class; it’s lunch time.” Oh shit. Already? Tenko genuinely hadn’t realized how much time had passed. He seemed to be losing a lot of time these past couple days. Eh, it’s probably fine. “Anyways,” Midoriya continued, “Aizawa-sensei mentioned you were in the library and I wanted to come talk to you about yesterday so I thought this might be a good time?” Tenko, who had used the past few seconds to regain his composure, shrugged nonchalantly, mindful that they may have attracted some eyes during their commotion.

“Sure,” he responded, “come sit over here.” Once they got seated Midoriya fidgeted, seeming unsure as to how to begin their conversation. Tenko was much less anxious and more impatient, so he decided to take the lead.

“You’re the successor here.” He said quietly. “I recognized it during your match with Sho—uh, Todoroki yesterday. That’s why you stepped in with All Might, right?” Midoriya, who had been looking everywhere except Tenko, snapped his eyes up to meet his gaze. The piercing green reminded Tenko of All Might’s steadfast blue. It was immediately obvious that they shared the same unwavering determination. Another reason he makes more sense than me. Really, Tenko was getting sick of feeling jealous of a fifteen-year-old.

“Yeah.” Midoriya’s voice was barely a whisper. “You have the quirk in your world, don’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question. Tenko nodded. “It’s weird to think about,” Midoriya continued, “I’ve had Shigaraki explain, to my face, why he hates heroes and All Might specifically. The League is like a rallying point for anyone who hates what All Might has built and now… there’s you.” There was no animosity in Midoriya’s voice, but it still reminded Tenko of the weight of both his past and Shigaraki’s present. “It’s crazy how different you two are.” 

“I wish we were more different.” Tenko said flatly. “I was looking him up when you got here… and it’s fuckin’ scary how similar we are.”

“But you’re a hero.” Midoriya insisted, “Trust me when I say that Shigaraki here is about the furthest thing from that.”

“I’m basically a hero out of obligation.” Tenko insisted, “It was that or juvie for me and hero work sounded a lot more appealing.” Midoriya shook his head,

“Forgive me, Shimura-san, but I don’t buy that.” He said it kindly, but firmly, “All Might wouldn’t have given you the quirk if that were true. If you have One for All, then he must have seen a true hero in you.” Yeah, I get why this kid is his successor. Despite himself, Tenko felt Midoriya’s words nestle warmly in his chest. Like All Might, this kid was just so obviously, infallibly, good. Still…

“Maybe,” Tenko said noncommittally, “but I saw what One for All looks like for you and for All Might and it isn’t like that for me.” He didn’t expect Midoriya to immediately light up at this subject, but the boy seemed to come to life, setting down the notebook that Tenko had barely noticed he had been carrying and flipping to a blank page.

“I know, right!” Midoriya said, hesitancy momentarily erased, “It looks so different between the two of us! I was really wondering why! What does it feel like for you to use it? Can you use all of its power or just a fraction? How long did it take you to adjust? Does it break your bones, too? Does it enhance your primary quirk? I wonder if since you’re—” Tenko blinked. The kid did this when they first met, too. Does he always vomit questions like this? Midoriya seemed to realize what he was doing and cut himself off.

“Oh shi— shoot, sorry. I, uh, get a little carried away sometimes.” He said sheepishly. 

“You don’t say.” Tenko drawled. Midoriya blushed. “Try starting with one.” Tenko said in a mock helpful tone. Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, but eventually settled on a question,

“What’s it like for you?” Such a simple question, but it took Tenko several seconds to think about it and formulate an answer.

“It’s like a massive pool of power.” He decided. “I usually keep it dammed up, but I can open that dam and let some or all of it flood my body.”

“You can use all of it?” Midoriya questioned.

“I mean, I usually don’t, but I could.” Tenko answered. “You can’t?” Midoriya shook his head.

“I use a microwave as an analogy.” Tenko snorted. “Please, like that’s any dumber than what you said.” Oh, the kid’s got some attitude. Tenko grinned, “Anyway, I have to distribute the power throughout my body and control how much I’m using, and control the ‘setting,’which is like how much power I’m using. Otherwise, it will, uh, kinda shatter my bones.”

“Shit.” was Tenko’s eloquent response. “Yeah, I did not have that problem.” He suddenly felt a little better about all the other problems he had with One for All. At least it doesn’t do that. Midoriya began scribbling some notes down on his notebook, before pausing and looking up at Tenko.

“Uh, is it okay if I take notes? I know it’s kinda creepy, so if it bothers you I’ll stop, I don’t wanna weird you out or anything, uh—”

“It’s fine.” Tenko cut the kid off, drawing his own stack of notes closer and grabbing another blank sheet. “As long as I can do it too, we’re good.” Midoriya eyed Tenko’s notes with a sort of delighted interest.

“Great!” He chirped, “It’s weird that the quirk doesn’t shatter your bones like it does for me—”

“Nuh-uh.” Tenko cut the boy off, “It’s weird that it shatters your bones, not the other way around.” 

“Whatever.” Midoriya said, flapping a dismissive hand that Tenko now realized was concerningly scarred. He began surreptitiously taking his own notes on Midoriya. “Anyways, I wonder if that’s because you had a quirk before. Maybe your body was more used to that kind of power?”

“You didn’t have a quirk before?” Tenko questioned. That dampened Midoriya’s enthusiasm somewhat.

“Uh, yeah, I was quirkless.” He said, rubbing at the back of his neck once more– it seemed to be a nervous habit– and almost whispering the word ‘quirkless.’

“Huh.” was Tenko’s only response. Deku has never been seen using a quirk, so I guess that makes sense. Did being quirkless have something to do with how he ended up? He noted that information down.

“A-anyway,” Midoriya began again, writing as he spoke, “I wonder if your body handled One for All better because you already had a powerful quirk. But then again, All Might never had my problem either, so maybe I’m the outlier here.” Tenko was pretty sure he detected a hint of that oh so familiar self-deprecation in the kid’s voice. “So I guess adjusting to the quirk wasn’t as much of an issue for you, but did it change your original quirk at all?”

“Yeah, it made it stronger. Usually I love leveling-up, but it’s a pain in the ass, honestly.” Tenko replied. “Decay already worked fast, but One for All made it work marginally faster, which honestly just makes it more dangerous. Besides that it enhanced its drawbacks, too which really fucking sucks.” Midoriya quickly leaped on this information, sitting forward and poising his pencil over the page eagerly. 

“What drawbacks?” What drawbacks, indeed.

“My quirk is, uh, pretty violent.” Tenko began. It was a bit hard to explain given that he didn’t fully understand it himself. He saw Midoriya open his mouth, probably to say something reassuring. “No, listen, it is, like, inherently violent. I have an issue with skin-picking, which is partially emotional, but also partially caused by my quirk. It gets worse when I don’t use my quirk, but it’s always there. My quirk also ‘craves violence,’ I guess. And it’s the same deal; the urge to use my quirk gets stronger the longer I don’t use it. I’ve got selective quirk inhibitors to chill out the mental side effects, and I use my quirk a lot for hero work, but I’ve noticed that those things feel stronger these days, since I got the quirk. There’s other side effects when I actually use it, but those are the ones I’ve got all the time. What’s it like for you?” Midoriya shrugged, taking a moment to finish his furious scribbling before answering, 

“I really don’t feel it most of the time unless I’m using it to be honest. It’s interesting, because I think the off-and-on switch thing was new with you and me— that doesn’t really even exist for All Might. Anyway, when I am using it it makes me feel powerful, but when I use too much of it it feels like my bones and tissues are going to spontaneously explode.” 

“That’s fun.” Tenko noted dryly. 

“Yeah.” Midoriya agreed. “It’s weird that it’s so different between us, isn’t it?”

“Hah. I guess so. But I think it mostly just proves that All Might fucked up giving it to me. My quirk, or my essence, or something fucking warped it. You’ve seen what it looks like. That black smoke leaves little scars on my skin for a few days after. They don’t hurt and they disappear eventually, but it’s like the quirk itself is trying to rebel against me. I fuckin’ twisted it, Midoriya.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Midoriya protested weakly.

“You haven’t heard what my brain is like when I use it, then. Why would One for All make me want to destroy things, to kill people, unless I corrupted it somehow?” Tenko could feel the emotion thickening his words. Damnit. He really didn’t like spilling his insecurities like this, even though he casually hinted at his inner evil all the time.

“Maybe the quirk is trying to teach you something.” Midoriya took a deep breath, “When I first got this quirk, I was ready to die trying to live up to it. I didn’t care what I had to do, what bones I had to break, or what risks I had to take as long as it meant I could become a hero like All Might. But,” Midoriya paused, as though this was something that was difficult to say, “I’ve learned that I can’t be like All Might. He’s– he’s larger than life, ya know? And I’m not. I can’t go full-out all the time because I will probably literally die before I ever go pro.” Midoriya’s voice grew heavy with emotion. “Maybe the way the quirk hurts me is its way of reminding me that I’m only human. And maybe the way it tempts you with those thoughts is its way of reminding you that you have a choice as to whether or not you give in to them.” 

Maybe… Tenko was inclined to believe this boy, who stuttered so often but spoke with such conviction when it really mattered. But even if that is true, it doesn’t make me a good person. Tenko briefly thought of what it felt like to kill. The absence of the guilt that everyone told him he should feel, and the absolute disgusting ecstasy of the moment. Yeah, there’s no redeeming that. Sorry One for All. Sorry Midoriya. Sorry All Might.

“Maybe you’re right.” Tenko said. “But I still think it should be you, and not me.”

“Why?” Midoriya questioned, “Do you even know me in your universe? What if I’m completely different?”

“I do know you. Well, I know of you. And you’re right, you are completely different; in my world you’re a villain.” I’m getting real damn sick of that line. 

“Really?” Midoriya’s pencil wrote that information down more slowly, almost hesitantly. He seemed hurt by the information.

“Yeah. It’s fuckin crazy, seeing the soft kid that you are here. You’re so damn heroic. How could that possibly change?” Tenko answered his own rhetorical question, “But I’m willing to bet that things went wrong for Deku because I got the quirk instead of him. Add to that that Present Mic and Eraserhead are villains because of me as well, and I think it’s pretty clear that me being a hero isn’t really a stellar deal for the ‘greater good.’” Midoriya took in his argument, along with the revelation that two of his teachers were villains in another reality. 

“What are you going to do about it?” The kid questioned finally. 

“What?”

“You said that you caused all those people to become villains. If you really believe that you being a hero caused all that pain, then what are you going to do about it?” Midoriya had a renewed fire in his eyes. It was clearly a challenge; will you give up and become like Shigaraki, or will you actually step up and be a hero?

“I don’t know.” Tenko admitted. “I’m not really good at fixing things,” he said, flexing his fingers for emphasis.

“But you’ve fixed some things. You must have, to have made it as a pro hero. I don’t know much about your life, but if All Might made you his successor, then he saw something in you. I think both of us have doubted his choice a million times, but maybe we should try to prove him right instead of wrong.” Tenko appraised him with a narrowed gaze, one hand absentmindedly trailing up to scratch at his neck. 

“You’re an interesting one, Midoriya Izuku.” he finally said. Midoriya chuckled slightly,

“Apparently Shigaraki thinks so too, given how much trouble he’s caused me.” He said, once again resting a hand on his neck sheepishly. “At least I’m not boring!” He grinned widely, only to jump up a minute later when the bell rang. “Shit! We gotta go. We’re all the way in Ground Beta today, let’s go!”

Tenko scooped up his supplies and rushed after Midoriya, who refrained from using his quirk until they were out of the library, then sprinted off at full speed. Tenko did not care as much about being on time, so he settled for a speedwalk, glaring at anyone who was in his way, half of his mind still mulling over his conversation with Midoriya.

What can I do when I get back home? Is there really any way to repair the damage I’ve caused? The only problem was, Tenko’s damage was bathed in blood and bodies, and he wasn’t sure if he could ever truly atone for that. Maybe, though, he could at least pretend to be the hero All Might apparently saw in him. That might have to be enough. I don’t know what else to do.

Chapter Text

1-A’s afternoon training consisted of an urban obstacle course that All Might and Aizawa had set up at Ground Beta. Tenko had done a million variations on this exact task during his time at UA. It was a common one, considering how many heroes worked almost exclusively in Japan’s urban areas; flawless, fluid movement through a city landscape was a crucial task for most. 

All Might was standing with the class in his shrunken form, explaining the assignment to the students. Tenko sidled up to the edge of where the class was standing, trying not to draw attention to his arrival. It didn’t work. All Might’s piercing blue eyes almost instantly made eye contact with Tenko. His gaze was quickly accompanied by the crawling gaze of 1-A, and their varying degrees of hostility.

“Ah, Shimura-kun. I’m glad you’re here. I’ve just finished explaining today’s class to our fine young heroes here; we’re running an urban obstacle course!” All Might boomed. Tenko nodded.

“Yeah, I guessed.”

“Ah, yes.” All Might responded, “Of course, you likely did this very assignment many times during your own time at UA.”

“Yep.” Tenko sighed. “A lot.”

“Well, that’s excellent! Since Aizawa-kun isn’t here today, I was wondering whether you would be willing to demonstrate the course before the students run it.” Tenko glanced around, noticing Aizawa’s conspicuous absence for the first time. I’m slipping. I should have noticed that sooner. Ah, well, blame it on this whole situation. It took Tenko another second to register what he had been asked to do. 

“Uh… I guess so.” He wasn’t really prepared, especially considering that he was dressed in civilian clothes and was lacking even the most basic support gear. But still, it seemed that 1-A was doing this assignment for the first time so the course probably was on an easy difficulty. It would probably be fine.

“Excellent!” All Might beamed at him. Something in Tenko’s chest warmed at the approval. “You will have five minutes to complete the course. Quirks are allowed.” 

“Alright.” Tenko said, stretching and cracking his knuckles. He purposefully walked with a relaxed posture over to the start of the course, dripping with fake-casual confidence. A little theatrics never hurt anyone. All Might counted down, then the timer began and he was off.

Tenko didn’t summon One for All. This wasn’t really a situation that called for it, and he didn’t want to deal with the uptick in mental noise that accompanied its use. Besides, it would be all the more impressive when he finished well within the time limit without the use of One for All. The first twenty meters or so of the course were simply an open section of street. As Tenko sprinted across the asphalt he took in the upcoming portion of the course. It was nothing too difficult, just a brick building with a fire escape leading up it. This was a rooftop course, then. Most of the obstacles would probably be on said rooftops, so this fire escape was probably clear to run up. Still, that would take too much time.

Instead of simply running up it, Tenko jumped for the lowest floor of the fire escape, pulled himself up so he was standing on the outside of the railing, then jumped up, grasping for the wall. He used the same technique that he had when running from that nomu, slamming all five fingers into the wall, then retracting his pinky the instant he had decayed a large enough crater to function as a handhold. He used his arm to lift himself the last few inches before he could grab the bottom of the next level of the fire escape and repeat the process, basically climbing it like a ladder straight to the top.

Tenko gave no thought to recovery as he hauled himself over the side onto the rooftop and instantly began sprinting once more. The first rooftop was flat, again to provide a relatively easy start to the course, and Tenko sprinted across it without even a hitch in his step as he leaped to the next building. This building was far taller than the first, but the ledge Tenko jumped to was nearly even with the previous building. This building was crumbling from the top down, clearly a victim of some previous villain attack. Tenko had to scramble over rubble as he ran across the roof, once again using his quirk to create handholds where there were none. He crested over a particularly large chunk of rubble and leaped over it, only to realize a split second later that the roof had crumbled away on this side of the building.

Instead of a flat surface, he was met with a steeply sloped hill of rubble that led down to the street. He flailed for half a second, then braced for impact and tried to regain his footing as quickly as possible. He grabbed a piece of rebar that was jutting out vertically from a chunk of concrete to keep himself from stumbling and rolling head over heels down the pile of rubble. Once he had regained his footing, he expertly moved down the pile of rubble town towards street level. He jumped from one ledge to the next, or climbed down with handholds where the rubble was too steep. 

The course grew more obvious as he reached the street. Rather than obstacles that would likely appear in a natural city landscape there was moving machinery to avoid, places where the ground disappeared and the only option was to swing over on a set of metal bars, and other man-made obstacles to complete. Tenko worked his way through the obstacles, part of his brain always focused on the current task at hand, while other planned his attack on the next. Some of the tasks that required grip strength were harder than they would be if Tenko had had his proper support gear, but extensive training with only a four-fingered grip allowed him to still complete the obstacles.

Finally, the course led him to an alleyway with an obvious dead end. Tenko could just spy the red flag that denoted the finish line at the top of one of the buildings that bordered the alleyway. It was about a five story climb. He worked his way down from there, seeing the various windowsills, moulding, and cracks that could be used to assist his climb. He could use his quirk and climbing ability to simply make his own path to the top… But that wouldn’t be quite as fun. Tenko leaped onto the dumpster that was intentionally positioned on the opposite side of the alleyway then to a low balcony on the second floor. He balanced on the edge of the open container for a moment before leaping to the balcony, catching the bottom rung. From then it was a series of leaps and lifting his own bodyweight as he made his way to the top.

He hauled himself onto the rooftop, chest heaving far more violently than it had been in the beginning, only to find that the red flag he had glimpsed from below was not the finish, but simply a marker that read, ‘200 meters to go!’ with an image of Nedzu giving a cheery thumbs up. Stupid rat.

Tenko could see the finish line on the very next rooftop. The jump wouldn’t be hard and there didn’t seem to be anything in his way, but his lungs were protesting after so much physical exertion at peak effort. Still, Tenko sprinted. 

It was good, he thought ruefully, that he had so much experience ignoring pain. His muscles screamed as he forced them to move as fast as physically possible, running at a dead sprint despite nearly two minutes of extreme physical exertion. He had always been a quick runner and damnit he was not going to slow down now. He didn’t hesitate as he took the final leap; running over rooftops felt like flying to him. He crossed the finish line a moment later, having to catch himself against the roof’s retaining wall to stop his momentum. So there really wasn’t anything else to that last two hundred meters except to torture students. Yeah, that seems about right.

It was a pretty tame course, all things considered. Tenko had certainly run far worse ones, but he supposed this was 1-A’s first time with this assignment. He stood up from the wall and turned around to see his time: 4:39. Eh, not too bad considering I don’t have my gear. Tenko found the conveniently-placed exit ladder and climbed down, striding back to meet back with class 1-A. 

“Well done, young Shimura!” All Might called as Tenko drew near. The class was eyeing him, some still with hostility, but others with intrigue. All Might then turned to the class, “Now it's your turn!” he announced enthusiastically. He let the students organize themselves into a line then turned to Tenko, “Young Shimura, would you please go over to the finish and wait for students there.”

“I just walked back over here!” Tenko grumbled, but he complied.

—

Tenko watched as Ashido collapsed on the ground after finishing her third run of the obstacle course. 

“You all right?” Kaminari called from where he was still leaning on a wall, breathing finally back to normal after finishing his run a few minutes ago. Bakugou was somewhere nearby, probably blowing something up after failing to complete the course within the time limit for a third time. The end of class was drawing near and still none of the students had managed to complete the course in the given time limit, although some were impressively close. 

“How did you do that so quickly?” Mina asked, rolling over onto her side and facing Tenko, still panting. 

“Yeah, dude, you made it look so easy!” Kaminari butted in. Yaoyorozu stumbled over, having just completed her run. Tenko shrugged.

“They don’t just hand out pro licenses to anyone.” He bragged, then, “I’ve got a lot of practice.” He said more seriously. “Trust me, you will do this assignment a ridiculous number of times throughout your time at UA. It will teach you physical coordination, on-the-spot planning, and force you to come up with creative uses for your quirk. You guys think this is hard? Ha. This is kid stuff compared to what you’ll be doing in a couple years.” It was odd, Tenko thought, how they were all paying attention to him now. Even Yaoyorozu was looking up from where she had been standing, panting with her hands on her knees. Her runs had interested him the most out of the group, as she had no physically enhancing quirk,  but instead relied on her natural strength or the objects she could create. She clearly had the mind of a strategist; she would have to, to use such a complex quirk so precisely. 

“It’s also a good way to gather ideas for what support gear might be helpful to you in the future.” Tenko offered as more students began to trickle in, exhausted by their last runs through the course for the day. “You, specifically,” Tenko said, turning to Yaoyorozu, “should get creative. There is so much you can do when it comes to creating simple, useful support items for yourself. Your trick with the grappling hook during your third run was interesting, but you had to stop and concentrate to create it and it took a second to actually produce it. I’m not saying it was a bad idea, but it would also be good to have an arsenal of simpler things you can create while actively doing something else. Your staff yesterday was a good example.”

Yaoyorozu looked surprised to be addressed, but she seemed to consider his advice.

“Shimura-san, you seem very observant; what other advice can you give us?” Midoriya spoke up. Having just arrived, he was still out of breath. Tenko was a bit taken aback at being asked for advice. It shouldn’t be that hard, I guess. They’re newbies, so there’s plenty of places where they need to buff their stats.

“You should keep practicing your maneuverability,” Tenko said, turning to Iida, who had finished shortly before Midoriya, “Speed is a massive asset and it’s often very hard to combat unless you have a speed quirk yourself, but your lack of maneuverability is what slowed you down. You couldn’t take corners fast enough and you moved so fast that you weren’t able to plan out your next move in advance. You’ve got the ‘move fast’ part down, so try mastering your speed, try using your legs to assist you in other moves besides running. That goes for all of you; find creative ways to apply your strengths… and work on your maneuverability. Know your body and its capabilities inside and out. That’s how you level up from powerful to professional.” Well, that at least sounded instructional. Tenko mentally patted himself on the back for once again flawlessly performing the role of Mature Adult.

“But not all of us have quirks that help with this type of stuff,” Kaminari stood up, “what are we supposed to focus on then?”

“You don’t have to have a quirk that alters your speed or strength for maneuverability to be important. You’re physically strong, that was clear from the mere fact that you completed the course, no matter your time, but in order to excel at this, you almost need to be acrobatic. You have to work on knowing how your body moves. That sounds stupid, but it’s a skill you can train.” Tenko shrugged at the end of his spiel. Midoriya was the next to speak up, asking about specific exercises they could do to train such skills, so Tenko gave him a few examples. Next was Kirishima, who was wondering about how to vary his use of his seemingly one-note quirk.

This was the rhythm that continued until the bell rang at the end of class and the students all left for the locker rooms. Tenko joined All Might at the gates to Ground Beta, waiting for the students to finish changing and leave. He was reeling from the past few minutes. It was so strange, the way they had momentarily abandoned their hostility like that. It was so odd to, for a moment, have the luxury of forgetting just who he was in this world. 

Tenko watched, arms crossed and leaning against the entry gate, as the class began to trickle out of the locker rooms and exit Ground Beta. They thanked All Might for class and a fair few of them nodded at Tenko as well. A couple even thanked him alongside All Might. Tenko just snorted and lifted a couple fingers in a small parting wave.

Shoto walked out, followed by Midoriya, who jogged a couple steps to catch up with him. The green haired boy was chattering away about something with a broad smile on his face. Shoto wore his usual blank expression, but Tenko knew from the tiniest quirk on his lips that the boy was enjoying Midoriya’s companionship. Dork’s making friends. Cute. As they walked past the gate Tenko instinctively reached out a hand, pinky carefully raised, and ruffled Shoto’s hair in the way he always did to annoy the boy. 

Shoto jerked back, whipping his head around and staring at Tenko with wide eyes that betrayed surprise, defensiveness, and anger. Tenko withdrew his hand in a heartbeat, pulling it in towards his chest as he instantly realized what he had done. Stupid. Stupid. He had totally forgotten himself. Got too damn comfortable.

“Agh… Sorry.” Tenko said hastily and awkwardly, tearing his gaze away from Shoto’s distressed stare. “That was stupid. I wasn’t— I’m sorry.” He pushed himself off the wall to stand up straight. “I’ve got to get back to the dorms too now, actually. Good night, All Might-sensei.” He waved a hand over his shoulder as he turned and began to speed walk in the direction of the dorms, other hand still clutched tightly to his chest. All he could hope was that the boys wouldn’t chase after him.

—

He got his wish, relaxing slightly when he entered the Heights Alliance building and made it through the common room and up to Aizawa’s floor without incident. He hesitated for a moment standing outside the door. I don’t even know if he’s here. Why wasn’t he at heroics today, anyway? Should I really disturb them if they are in there? A growl from Tenko’s stomach, however, reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast this morning. The hunt for dinner was enough to make himself stomp down his reservations and knock. 

It was Mic who entered the door. The man gave him a small smile and waved him inside.

“Hey, listener!” He said, “How was heroics?”

“It was fine.” Tenko responded. Mic seemed unusually reserved, tired and possibly sad. It was so unusual. Tenko had never seen the man like this before in either universe. “Is everything okay?” Tenko asked as he stepped in. He smelled food as he entered the apartment, which gave him hope that whatever was going on wasn’t too catastrophic; at least there was dinner. Mic sighed,

“Eri-chan had a bit of a rough day today. We’re not exactly sure what triggered it, but she lost control of her quirk while with one of her tutors and Sho had to go help cancel it.”

“Was anyone hurt?” It was the first question that sprang to Tenko’s mind. Mic’s eyes widened marginally.

“No! No, thank goodness. We’ve planned for this kind of incident before so everyone’s fine, physically.”

“Physically?” Tenko questioned. Mic sighed,

“Eri’s been taking it pretty hard. The little listener’s got it in her head that she’s a danger. Right now she’s refusing to be within six feet of anyone except Shota.”

“I… see.” Tenko said, not sure how else to respond. Mic gazed sadly into the middle distance for a moment before coming back to himself.

“Anyway,” Mic said slightly more cheerily, “we should eat dinner. I bet you’re starving. Sho!” He called softly, “Shimura-kun’s here. I’m gonna get dinner ready.”

“On our way.” Aizawa called back in his tired monotone. Tenko began helping Mic set the table for dinner. A couple minutes later Aizawa padded down the hallway, holding Eri in his arms. He approached the dinner table with her, but she whispered something in his ear and he changed course for the living room. He sat down on one of the couches and set Eri down at his side. She brought her knees to her chest, hugging them, hunching in on herself, and gazing at the floor with those blood red eyes of hers, pale hair cascading over her shoulders.

“Go have dinner.” She spoke in a small voice after a moment.

“Okay,” Aizawa responded, “but you need to eat too.” Eri shook her head slightly.

“ ‘m not hungry.” She said in the same sad tone. Tenko swore he could see Aizawa grow more exhausted in real time.

“Okay.” He relented after a long moment, standing up and walking over to the dining table. Mic looked sadly between Eri and Aizawa, but said nothing. They sat down at the table. Mic portioned out plates for the three of them. Dinner was silent for several minutes.

“What is Eri’s quirk?” The question slipped from Tenko’s lips before he could reconsider. Both Mic and Aizawa grew tense for a moment and Tenko knew they were listening for Eri’s reaction. It was Aizawa who answered,

“It’s called Rewind.” He supplied, “She can revert any living being to a previous state. It has incredible potential, but it’s very powerful and difficult to control—”

“It’s a curse.” Eri’s small voice somehow managed to cut Aizawa off instantly. “It’s dangerous. I’m dangerous.” Over on the couch, she was curled into an even tighter ball than before. Tenko felt something sharp pierce his chest. He didn’t like that. He stood up, pushing his chair back. The legs scraping along the floor were the only sound in the apartment. He walked over to the living room and sat on the same couch where Eri was, but on the opposite side. She turned her head, and Tenko could see one of her red eyes peering out from between her knees and her curtain of hair. She shifted away from him slightly and Tenko got the sense that she would have asked him to move farther away from her if she knew him better and was more comfortable. He, in turn, stayed as far from her as he could on the small couch, making no move to reach out physically. For several long moments they just sat there.

“Your quirk might be dangerous, Eri,” Tenko said at last, “but you’re not a curse.”

“I am!” She said, voice thick with emotion. “I hurt people! I lose control and I don’t know what to do, and Aizawa-san has to come help me because I can’t stop it myself.” How could so much emotion possibly be contained in such a tiny body? Tenko’s question answered himself; he knew how. Of course he did.

“I understand.” He said in a calm, measured voice, “but that doesn’t mean that your quirk’s a curse. It doesn’t mean you’re bad.”

“You don’t get it!” Eri said, voice rising louder this time. “You don’t get it! My quirk hurts people. I hurt people. I get people hurt when they try to save me. I get them hurt when they just try to be near me. I killed my father. I hurt people… I’m a monster!” Her final cry was punctuated by a sob. Her tiny shoulders were shaking and that stabbing feeling in Tenko’s chest was only growing stronger. He was pretty sure he heard a gasp from the direction of the dinner table, but that wasn’t his concern right now; all of his focus was directed at the tiny girl beside him.

“I do get it.” He said finally, calmly. “Eri, my quirk is called Decay. Anything I touch turns to dust.” He took a deep breath, “When my quirk first manifested, I killed my entire family.” That got Eri to raise her head from her knees slightly, and truly look at Tenko for the first time. This wasn’t something Tenko usually mentioned to anyone, let alone a kid, but he somehow knew that it had to be said in order to make her fully understand. “I always thought my quirk was evil, but I still chose to do good with it.” You still believe that you are evil, deep down. Tenko’s psyche whispered.

“But…” Eri trailed off, seemingly wanting to protest but not knowing how.

“You were a kid.” Now it was Tenko’s turn to let the emotion weigh down his words. “You still are. You are a kid who happened to be given enormous power and it’s not your fault that you can’t control it.” He took in a deep breath. “Do you think I’m a monster, Eri?” She raised her head even farther, still meeting his gaze, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. She gave a small shake of the head, but there was still a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

“Ashido could cause serious burns, or worse, with her acid. Kaminari could easily kill someone if he lost control of his electricity. Mido— Deku easily has enough strength to kill someone. Do you think that any of them are monsters?” Eri scrunched her eyebrows and determinedly shook her head.

“Deku’s a hero.” She said quietly but firmly. 

“Yeah.” Tenko agreed. “And a lot of heroes have dangerous quirks; quirks that could kill someone if they got out of control. But the danger of your power isn’t what makes you a monster. Difficulty controlling it doesn’t make you a curse. It’s how you chose to use it. The things you can’t control don’t make you a bad person, Eri-chan, and it’s normal to need help.” She was sitting up straight now, beginning to loosen her hold around her knees. For a moment she looked ready to accept his words, but then she wilted slightly.

“But what if I hurt someone again? What if I can’t stop it?” She once again sounded small.

“But what if you don’t?” Tenko countered. “What if you let go of that fear long enough to learn to control your quirk?” Tenko held up a hand, pinky curled expertly in towards the palm, “Once you learn how to control it, you won’t have to be afraid anymore. And good things will happen to you— they are happening to you— believe me, don’t throw them away because you’re scared or you think you don’t deserve them. That’s no way to live.” That, at least, I can mostly believe. Eri considered Tenko and his words for a long time.

“You really think I’m not a curse?” Eri asked finally. Tenko shook his head.

“You’re not.” He said firmly, “Do you think I am?” Eri shook her head,

“No. You helped me.” She said firmly. Some other sensation twisted in Tenko’s chest. It wasn’t stabbing like before, nor was it particularly uncomfortable, but Tenko felt fit to burst with it. Eri shifted, then scooted over to Tenko. She wrapped her arms around his waist. Tenko hesitated, then gently returned the hug, wrapping his arms loosely about her tiny frame, keeping his pinkies tucked carefully in towards his chest.

Funny, how much easier it is to make someone else believe all that. Maybe I’m a hypocrite. But no. He was different, Tenko knew. It wasn’t his quirk that made him a monster, he simply was one. The proof was in his thoughts, and in all the wrong emotions he felt and all the right emotions that he didn’t. He was the only one who saw himself fully. He didn’t show that dark, twisted mess to anyone, because he knew if he did they would see him like he saw himself. Better to be a liar than to be hated. Tenko felt cold again, absent of the warmth that the only person who actually knew all his faults could provide. But he wasn’t as cold as the night before; Eri was still at his side and maybe helping her could be enough for now.

Chapter Text

Touya had decided that he was simply not cut out for single parenting. Granted, both of his wards were in their upper teens and Touya couldn’t imagine what this would be like if he (god forbid) had to deal with toddlers or something, but still, it’s a lot, okay?

Informing Himiko and Shoto about what had happened had not gone over particularly well. That was understandable considering that ‘my boyfriend has been unexpectedly swapped out with himself from another universe,’ was neither the most common of announcements, nor the most comforting. Shoto had become even less emotive than usual. The only emotions Touya had been able to decipher from him lately was a mix of anger and wariness whenever Shigaraki was around. Himiko, who typically followed Tenko like a shadow, adamantly refused to even be in the same room as Shigaraki.

Touya, for his part, felt more than a little lost. Shigaraki was disturbingly similar to Tenko, only somewhat more prickly and seemingly younger, somehow. Touya’s heart instinctively reached for that bond, that ease, that he and Tenko shared, only for Shigaraki to do something, or say something, that would rudely remind Touya’s brain that this was not his Tenko.

All these thoughts and more vied for space in Touya’s brain as he cooked eggs for breakfast. Neither Shoto or Himiko had yet to emerge from their rooms, and Shigaraki was disinterested in leaving his room, so for the moment Touya was simply alone with his thoughts. 

It had been two days since Tenko had been swapped for Shigaraki and still the only person who knew outside of this household was Midnight. Touya had told her the day that it had happened. He had to give a proper reason for why neither he nor Tenko could go on patrol that day. It had proven to be the right call, not that Touya had thought it wouldn’t be; he trusted that woman with his life. Midnight had allowed Touya to treat it like an investigation— even though Touya was typically a daylight hero who didn’t deal in investigations— and take off patrols in order to research into what might have happened and, more importantly, how to get Tenko back. 

Touya flipped the eggs with more aggression than was strictly necessary for such an innocuous task. He clenched his teeth in frustration just thinking about it. Two days of research, of retracing Tenko’s steps, interrogating Shigaraki and researching any possible quirk that might have caused this situation and they had found nothing. Reality-swapping quirks didn’t exist outside of rumors. The best they had found was a report of a Tibetan girl’s quirk which allowed her to show someone what all their potential fates would look like. I already feel like I’m running out of places to look. I’m no good at this, not like you are Tenko.

Touya listened to a slightly muffled conversation between Himiko and Shoto in the hallway. A moment later, Shoto emerged dragging an almost comically tired-looking Himiko by her wrist. He pulled a chair out from the dining table and unceremoniously pushed her into it. She simply slumped forward, resting her cheek on the table and letting out a dramatic groan. Shoto ignored her and walked over to the kitchen where Touya was standing. 

“Need any help with breakfast?” He asked in his usual monotone. 

“Yeah, you can grab plates. It’s pretty much done.” Touya replied, pulling the eggs from the stove and grabbing the pot of rice. He carried both over to the table while Shoto grabbed dishware and cutlery. Touya dished a plate for each of them and sat down. 

He passed Himiko’s plate across the table to her, where it bumped against the arm that she had draped over her head, which was still resting on the table. A twinge of pain emanating from his lower back reminded him that he hadn’t stapled himself up properly from when he had popped those staples the first night Shigaraki swapped here; it was tough to get the staple gun at the correct angle there, so he had opted to use some medical tape as a temporary solution. Tenko would usually fix him up. It was easier for him to do it than Touya and after years of experience, Touya knew he would do it correctly. He was glad to have the staples out of his face and arms, but sometimes he wished he had prioritized the reconstructive surgeries in harder to reach areas, so he didn’t end up in situations like this. Honestly, he didn’t really mind having to ask Tenko, but… well, it’s not like I can do that right now. And I’m sure as hell not gonna ask Shigaraki.

“What’s got you so down today?” Touya grumbled as he took a bite of his breakfast, focusing on Himiko rather than his current predicament.. “You look half dead.” Himiko groaned dramatically. Her voice was slightly muffled, as her face was still flat on the table. 

“Sooooooo tired.” She complained.

“You getting enough blood?” Touya asked. He hoped that was the issue. That would be a simple fix. Himiko nodded as best as she could with her head still resting on the table.

“Yeah. I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.” She groaned.

“Why not?” 

“Stupid freaking reading homework!” Himiko said with passion. She lifted her head off the table as she gestured vaguely to accentuate her frustration. “We had, like, thirty pages and some comprehension questions and it took me all night! And the story is boring and the characters are like, not cute at all— there’s not even any bloody stuff— and I hate it!” Oh. What would have appeared to most as a common outpouring of teenage frustration felt like a stone in Touya’s chest. Tenko usually helps her with reading stuff. Himiko hadn’t received the best education. They discovered a couple months after she moved in that she had ADHD that had been completely overlooked by her teachers and her home life certainly hadn’t made learning any easier. Add to that the years she had spent alone on the streets where she had attended school infrequently or not at all and she had a lot of catching up to do. 

“I’m happy to help you, ya know.” He kept his voice as soft as he could, but Himiko still deflated.

“I know.” She said, far more quietly than she had been speaking before. It wasn’t the first time Touya had offered, but to this day Tenko was still the only one she ever went to for help.

“I can help too.” Shoto piped up. “Besides, I’ve probably done all of that stuff a lot more recently than this dumbass.” He said, gesturing his chopsticks vaguely in Touya’s direction.

“Watch it, punk.” Touya growled. Shoto’s lips twitched.

“I’m surprised you even know how to read.” The boy said matter-of-factly. “I’m pretty sure you’ve fried a few brain cells along with your skin somewhere along the way.” Touya snorted, standing up to clear his empty plate and deliberately walking around the table to roughly ruffle Shoto’s hair. Himiko was giggling at their antics.

“Can it, twerp.” He said, but he was grinning. This is the most emotion he’s displayed since Tenko disappeared… They’re good for each other. Shoto shook his hair back into place and turned to Himiko to ask exactly what book she was reading. Shoto actually grimaced when she told him, before returning to his usual neutral expression and explaining that he hated that book too and he didn’t know why every school in Japan seemed so intent on teaching it. Even if it was unfortunate that Himiko still wasn’t fully opening up to Touya, despite having lived together for nearly a year, he was glad to see the bond that she had formed with Shoto. Kami knows they could both use a normal sibling dynamic in their lives.

Touya washed dishes as the other two disappeared back into their rooms to finish getting ready for school. He twisted to grab the pan he had used from the stove, an action that sent another lancet of pain up from his back. I should probably redo the med tape. He thought with annoyance. What he probably should do was ask one of the teens to help staple him up, but he knew Shoto, though he never admitted it, hated doing it and, well, he’d never asked Himiko before. Still, Touya, despite his stubbornness, knew that he couldn’t wait much longer without tempting infection even more than he already was. I’ll ask one of them this evening… He promised himself.

Himiko and Shoto re-emerged a few minutes later, Himiko chattering away about some topic Touya couldn’t decipher. It sounded vaguely medical in nature; since discovering phlebotomy Himiko had rapidly taken an interest in medicine. A month or so earlier Touya distinctly remembered how she had burst into Tenko’s office while he was working to practically beg him to help her decipher a full-on medical textbook, of all things, that she had checked out from the library. Ha. And you think you’re so discompassionate, Tenko. I bet you spent three hours reading through that textbook with her. 

Fuck, I’m getting so damn sappy.

Touya shook his head to clear it. He shooed the teens out the door, grumbling about how they were going to be late if they didn’t hurry the fuck up. Once the door closed behind the two hellions, Touya took a moment to rifle through the mail from yesterday. Some of it he threw on a small stack of items meant for Tenko. He really hoped he wouldn’t have to watch that pile grow. I can’t waste any more time. As much as Touya really didn’t want to deal with Shigaraki right now, he was still the best bet for getting Tenko home.

— 

Shigaraki didn’t open the door when Touya knocked. He wasn’t exactly surprised; It seemed that a hatred of mornings was something that both Tenko and Shigaraki shared, judging by how Touya had to practically manhandle the man out of bed the previous morning. He waited for a moment, then pounded on it a couple times with his fist. He waited another moment: nothing. Touya slammed his fist into the door loudly enough to make it rattle. 

“Fucking calm down, dumbass.” A voice said from the hallway behind him, “It’s too damn early to be dealing with your racket too. Those brats were bad enough.” Touya whirled around to see a disgruntled-looking Shigaraki peering out from the doorway to his and Tenko’s shared office space. Touya stiffened.

“What the hell are you doing in there?” He asked, marching over to Shigaraki. Shigaraki only grinned amusedly.

“I’m researching.” He drawled, “Don’t you think I have a right to research myself?”

“What exactly have you been researching?” Touya questioned, voice on edge. He crossed his arms, really wishing that he had more than a centimeter in height on the man in front of him. Shigaraki simply shrugged and turned around, heading back into the room. Touya, not sure what else to do, followed.

“I found this in the night stand yesterday,” Shigaraki said casually, grabbing a newspaper off of Tenko’s desk and holding it out in a two-fingered grip over his shoulder. Touya snatched it from his hands, flipping it over to read the cover. ‘Dust: The Decay… Hero?’ The title read. 

“Damn. Where the fuck did he get that shit?” Touya muttered under his breath. “I thought I fuckin’ burnt it up.” The article was one of a few that had come out recently detailing Tenko’s past connection with villainy, his quirk, and perhaps most detrimentally, leaked tidbits from the police investigation that was done on him when he and Touya were first rescued. Touya remembered this specific one, although he hadn’t given it the time of day besides skimming the synopsis; it had made the front page of the shitty hero gossip tabloid that had written it. It had been added to their mail pile one morning, enclosed in an inconspicuous envelope. It was probably planted there by some heckler or another. He remembered the way Tenko had stared at silently until Touya asked what he was looking at. He remembered seeing the cover and the subtitle and grabbing it from Tenko’s hands. He remembered burning it to a crisp right there in the kitchen and sweeping up the ashes, telling Tenko not to listen to those stupid media scum. Did they send another one that I missed? Fuck, did Tenko go out and buy one? Neither possibility was a good one. Shigaraki shrugged.

“Don’t know where it came from. Don’t really care. But I do find it interesting that perhaps Tenko isn’t quite as heroic as you made him out to be.” Shigaraki grinned venomously. Touya didn’t particularly like that Shigaraki had taken to using Tenko’s given name, but as Shigaraki was technically the same person, he didn’t really have a solid argument to stop him from doing so. “From what I gathered from that article there, we had pretty similar childhoods. Maybe we’re just not meant to be heroes; ever thought of that Dabi?” He said it with a sneer, but he broke eye contact for the briefest of moments.

“What’s that got to do with you sneaking around Tenko’s stuff?” Touya redirected hastily, “Seriously, Shigaraki, he’s got confidential shit in here.”

“I got the media’s take on Tenko’s life,” Shigaraki shrugged, “Guess I wanted to see if I could find his own. ‘Sides, I’ll admit, I was a little curious to see what he’s working on and who knows, maybe we’ll find a clue about why we swapped in the first place.”

“That seems unlikely.” Touya argued, “Why would he have any information on what happened?” Shigaraki shrugged yet again.

“Who knows? It’s worth a shot, isn’t it? We’ve spent at least eighteen fuckin’ hours scouring anything we can get our hands on that might enable reality-swapping and you said you had that creepy bitch you work for go out and retrace Tenko’s steps. We’ve done all that and we have nothing. Why not at least rule out the possibility that your boyfriend has something useful in here?” It was pretty obvious that Shigaraki was mostly interested in looking through Tenko’s files for his own purposes, but unfortunately he had a decent argument for it. 

“Fine.” Touya acquiesced, “What exactly have you looked through so far?” Shigaraki grinned annoyingly at his victory.

“Not much.” He began, “I was only in here for a few minutes before you came to bother me.” He picked up the topmost file from the stack that he had presumably pulled from Tenko’s cabinet. “I started with this one. Present Mic and Eraserhead, huh? It’s interesting; would you believe they are heroes in my world?” Touya walked over to stand next to Shigaraki, setting the magazine down on one corner of the desk. Shigaraki flipped open the folder, setting aside a few of the topmost sheets of paper which he had presumably already looked through. Touya picked them up to examine them for himself. 

They were summary pages of the case, annotated in Tenko’s hasty handwriting. It was mostly public information, but there were a few interesting bits of information that neither Tenko nor the media had ever mentioned.

All for One? Touya questioned as he scanned the page. It was just one sentence that referenced him, with a page number scribbled above it. He knew a lot about the Eraser-Mic case, right down to the fact that Tenko blamed himself for Eraserhead’s turn to villainy, but Tenko had never mentioned that All for One might be connected to them. Touya grabbed the stack of papers that Shigaraki was looking at and flipped through before finding the ones in question. These were handwritten notes, although there was a sticky note reminder on the topmost stack to transcribe them into type in the near future. At the top of the page was scrawled ‘All for One Involvement?’ Directly beneath it was Tenko’s account of a battle between him, Eraserhead and Present Mic from nearly a year earlier.  Most of it matched up with what Touya remembered the media reporting. 

The duo had appeared seemingly out of nowhere as they often did. Their mere presence had caused panic in the streets, and Tenko, who was on patrol that evening, rushed to the scene. He was just in time to see Eraserhead, who had been walking through the street, being given a wide berth by the pedestrians who cowered around him, suddenly and seemingly randomly rush a young man and slam him into the wall of a nearby building, pinning him there, feet dangling nearly a foot above the ground, with just his hands.

The young man was later identified as a college student who was in his final year of earning his degree in Elementary Education. Touya remembered from the news articles how everyone said he ‘lit up a room.’ It was an overused statement, but the photos they included in the man’s obituaries— a pale smiling face with bright blue eyes and curly blue-gray hair— made it seem like it wasn’t just a superfluous nicety. 

Tenko’s account detailed how nothing happened for several long seconds. Eraserhead seemed to examine the man as he gasped and struggled for air. Tenko’s writing described in vivid detail how Aizawa used his free hand to pull at one of the man’s curly locks, tilting his head to the side as if in contemplation. He described how the man looked over at Present Mic, who was leaning on a wall nearby watching the scene apathetically, seemingly unconcerned by his partner’s actions and the civilians panicking around them. Some sort of communication passed between them and Eraserhead turned back to the man. Tenko wrote how he had stepped forward, looking for a way to intervene. Eraserhead’s eyes had snapped to Tenko, then back to the struggling, terrified man he had pinned to the wall. There was another brief moment of consideration then in a flash, Eraserhead’s free hand raked vertically down the man’s torso, dividing his belly into loose ribbons of flesh with the razor-sharp metal claws that he wore.

Tenko spared no detail; he was no stranger to blood and gore. Neither was Touya, but he still found himself cringing slightly as Tenko’s handwriting bluntly described how the man’s guts had literally cascaded out of him as Eraserhead let him drop to the ground, then turned tail. The man picked up Mic with his now bloody hands, and fled. Tenko had rushed to the victim, but determined that he didn’t have the skills to help him and was likely beyond saving anyway. He said it so matter of factly. Touya knew that it was how Tenko dealt with these things.

Instead, Tenko raced off in pursuit of the duo. He described a chase through side streets and alleyways, struggling to catch up due to Eraserhead’s incredible agility and inhuman strength. Then he turned a corner to a dead end, only to find the two men gone and the last wisps of a blackish-purple portal closing in their wake. 

Kuroguiri. That was the connection that Touya immediately drew, and he knew Tenko would have made it as well. As if this case wasn’t personal enough to him already. He knew how badly Tenko missed the man, even though Kuroguiri remained adamantly loyal to All for One. 

That was the first hint that the two were working with All for One, but it wasn’t the only one. Scribbled below was more of a thought map than an organized account of evidence. Tenko’s handwriting described how he and other heroes had begun seeing a third figure hanging out in the same vicinity as Mic and Eraser. There was an arrow across the page to a thought bubble that had a case number written above it and a quick summary about how, presumably, this third entity had been seen controlling nomu. Tenko’s conclusions were at the bottom of the page; ‘Seems pretty likely that they are involved with him— what are they doing though? — more info needed.’  Shigaraki had been reading over Touya’s shoulder.

“Interesting.” He mused, “I wonder what Sensei’s up to if I’m not in the picture.”

“What is he up to in your world?” Touya questioned. That could give us a hint to what he’s doing here. Shigaraki eyed him for a moment and Touya suspected he was thinking something similar.

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s focus on finding something useful.” Shigaraki deflected. Touya decided he would find some other time to push Shigaraki on that subject. 

“Fine. What else is in there?” 

The Eraserhead and Present Mic file had been thick. It actually filled the next two folders that they opened, one of which was entirely full of Tenko’s various sketches of the two villains. The other was filled with interviews; old friends, witnesses to their attacks, statements from professionals on the long-term effects of trigger, psychological profiling, and clippings from various press conferences and newspaper articles. Touya had been hearing bits and pieces about Tenko’s work on this case for a long time, but even he was impressed by just how deeply he was involved. Still, there was nothing obviously useful amongst all that research. 

Next there was a much thinner file that contained notes and research on Kuroguiri. It was much less officially organized and Touya got the feeling that this was a personal project for Tenko rather than a professional one. Guilt welled up inside Touya. This feels like looking through Tenko’s diary or something. They moved on quickly from that one.

At some point they split up or, more accurately, Shigaraki decided to look through things at his own pace. Touya allowed it, however, if only because there was so much material to cover. It still seemed so unlikely that anything useful was in here; Touya was sure that Tenko would have mentioned something that could lead to this. Nevertheless, he persisted, even when it came to him combing through missing person files that Touya was sure Tenko hadn’t touched in years. He was in the middle of skimming a short file on a missing quirkless boy that had long since been marked as closed; Tenko had scribbled ‘suicide’ under the ‘case closed’ stamp. The case had only been open for three days, it seemed. Useless. Touya tossed it aside. What do I even expect to find here? And now he was thinking about how that kid was just a little younger than Shoto and, damnit, that made his heart twist.

“Ha! Well isn’t that something!” Shigaraki crowed from the opposite corner of the room, holding up a file. Touya was honestly glad for the interruption.

“What?” Touya questioned, already standing up and moving over to him, wincing again as the movement pulled again at the now severely-loosened medical tape. Shigaraki showed him the file.

Touya scanned the cover page. He couldn’t place the name on the file.

“Deku? Who the hell is that?” He questioned. Shigaraki, still grinning, replied,

“It’s this one kid in the UA hero course back in my world. Same age as your brat, actually. He’s a total hero nerd; swallows all the shit they say hook, line, and sinker by the looks of it. Anyway, it’s just hilarious that he’s a villain here. Ha! I’d love to tell him that and crush his stupid little self-righteous streak!” Touya snatched the file from a still-laughing Shigaraki and examined it.

The information was sparse; Deku had no known civilian identity and his quirk was a complete mystery. The name had apparently first appeared as an online figure, who specialized in selling analysis for heroes and villains alike, then a shadowy figure with the same name had started appearing in the same areas as Present Mic and Eraserhead, then appearing whenever there were nomu sightings. Assuming the two figures were the same person, which Tenko definitely suspected given that all the information was contained in the same case file, this burgeoning villain and expert analyst was apparently a child. 

“He’s a quirk analyst,” Touya breathed, “and he’s working with All for One.”

“Yeah, I guess that checks— brat did always seem to rattle on about quirks and heroes and shit. Wonder if he’s any good?” Shigaraki mused. Touya’s mind was racing. 

“Shigaraki, listen the fuck up.” He snapped. Shigaraki glared at him.

“What?”

“Tell me everything you know about this Deku kid in your world.” He ordered.

“Why?” Shigaraki questioned testily. 

“Because,” Touya explained, “I want to see if we can track him down here.” 

“Why?” Shigaraki asked again, confusion dampening his annoyance. 

“He’s a quirk analyst, assuming that the online persona and the person that’s been spotted with Eraser and Mic are truly the same Deku. That seems extra likely given that Deku’s apparently an analyst of some sort in your world as well. He’s an analyst and he’s working with nomu Shigaraki. You and I both know that they are basically the epitome of quirk experiments; isn’t it possible that this Deku might know something about quirks that we can’t find? Like something about a reality-swapping quirk?” Touya prompted. Now he had Shigaraki’s attention. 

“The brat did seem like a talker every time I spoke to him.” He mused, “and even if he doesn’t know anything, if he’s working with nomu, then he’s working with the Doctor, and he probably does.” Shigaraki talked about the man with distaste. Touya couldn’t disagree.

“Alright,” Touya said, “It’s settled then. Tell me about this kid. Who is he? What does he look like?” He grabbed a blank notepad and a pen from Tenko’s desk. Part of him was relieved.

They finally had a goal; it was time to hunt down Deku.

Chapter Text

Tenko’s weekend was spent in a blur of research. His room was dotted with pages full of notes. Piles of books from the school library—he had badgered Aizawa into taking him into the library on a Saturday— were in various corners of the room. He had started his research in the place where he hoped he would find the answer: researching known quirks. Unfortunately, there was nothing that truly resembled a quirk that could explain Tenko’s current predicament. He even took the time to chase down rumors online about reality-swapping quirks. All were dead ends. 

That left just one place to look. One doctor who knew more than he should, and one man who seemed, for all the world, to be anticipating his arrival. Tenko had known, deep down, that this was probably the road that he would inevitably have to travel down, but that didn’t make him any more excited to do so. 

Notes and sketches— anything Tenko could remember about the Doctor’s experiments back in his world, or anything from that night he arrived— joined the growing number of papers that dotted his dorm room floor. All for One’s face featured heavily in Tenko’s sketches, adding a number of eerily knowing eyes to the drawings that now watched Tenko struggle. 

‘Tell me, Tomura, do you have the quirk?’ That’s what he asked me that night. Tenko knew instinctively, as he had known then, that All for One was not asking about Decay. Somehow, he knew I had One for All. Does that have something to do with why I’m here?

That was the question that guided Tenko’s subsequent hours of research, but although he felt that he was on the right track, albeit an unpleasant one, there was very little information he could gather without direct contact with All for One or the Doctor. He wasn’t quite that desperate… yet.

It was Sunday evening and Tenko had been holed up in his room the entire day when he heard a knock at his door. He stood up from the floor where he had been hunched over his research, stretching and making his way over to answer it. He opened it to find Mic, dressed casually for once with his hair completely loose around his shoulders. He gave Tenko a genuine grin. 

“Hey there, listener, I’m here to invite you to movie night!” He said enthusiastically.

“Huh?” was Tenko’s eloquent response.

“Sho, Eri and I are having a movie night and we wanted to invite you! Actually,” Mic grinned, leaning in slightly and stage whispering “it was Eri’s suggestion.” 

“Huh.” Tenko said again, taken aback by that particular tidbit of information. 

“Besides,” Mic continued, “You’ve been holed up in there basically all day! What are you even working on in there anyways?” The man tried vaguely to peek over Tenko’s shoulder. Tenko tilted his head to block the man’s prying gaze. Mic gave up easily and finished, “Anyways, we’ve still got leftovers from dinner and movie snacks! At the very least you should get something to eat.”

“Yeah, I’ll come.” Tenko said matter-of-factly, cutting off the man’s string of encouragement. He followed Mic down the hall back to his apartment. 

Tenko did, in fact, end up grabbing a plate of food. Breaking his concentration had reminded his body that it did, in fact, need to eat sometimes. Touya would have been nagging the hell out of me. Not that he can talk when it comes to skipping meals. Damn, those pangs of longing were beginning to get more frequent. Tenko hated missing people. 

Tenko settled down on the floor facing the TV, letting the family take the couch. He mainly focused on eating his dinner as the movie began, but once he had finished he paid the movie a little more attention and actually found himself getting engrossed by the art style. Distantly, Tenko heard a rustle from the couch behind him, but he paid it no mind until a small figure appeared at his side.

“Do you want popcorn?” Eri asked quietly, holding out a bowl to Tenko. 

“Uh, sure.” Tenko said, taking a handful and putting it on his plate. “Thanks.” He said, trying to give her a soft smile. It must have been somewhat decent, because she returned it with a small smile of her own before trotting back over to join Mic and Aizawa on the couch. 

Tenko ate his popcorn. He usually didn’t bother with the stuff. He didn’t like how it got underneath his teeth. He already felt like things were crawling underneath his skin all too often, so there was no need to imitate that sensation. Still, this was better than it normally was, Tenko thought.

He sat quietly as the movie ended and the lights were turned back on, letting Aizawa and Mic carry Eri, who had fallen asleep near the end of the movie, to her bed. He watched the credits roll, then allowed his gaze to idly flit down to the TV stand. It was set up to have six small cubbies which were mostly adorned with what Tenko assumed were sentimental items and a few photos. One photo in particular immediately caught his attention. Tenko sat up straight, coming to his knees and leaning forward. He felt drawn into the picture, pulled towards it by that bright blue eye. 

Tenko’s mind filled with static. It went completely blank except for that bright blue eye. There was no room for anything except bright blue. He knew it, but he didn’t. But he knew it was important. Remember. He had to remember something. It terrified him, but he couldn’t look away. That photo had captured him and it was drawing him in, fishing something up, up, up through the static from the depths of his mind and up to the surface.

Tenko’s memory was full of holes. Full of memories that he let sink to the depths of his mind, subconsciously hoping to erase them for good. Most of those memories contained dead bodies. The problem is, while dead bodies will decay their ghosts will not. And sometimes they swim upward from the depths, clawing at his brain until his mind goes white and fuzzy, until their horrible truths eventually break the surface.

Tenko could no longer see anything beyond that photo and the three teenage boys it contains. No, really he couldn’t see anything beyond the middle boy’s face: his fluffy white-blue hair, his tanned skin, and mostly just his piercing eyes. For some odd reason, it’s the left one that draws his attention and makes the static-y sea of his mind boil. And he knows it’s important. He can feel it. He just can’t remember.

That bright blue eye surrounded by darkness, its partner blotted out by blood. That cloud-like hair almost glowed slightly in the pitch black. Tenko couldn’t breathe because he remembered and oh god, oh Kami, I need to get out of here. 

Tenko forced himself to stand on legs that felt like they were made of the same static that had inhabited his brain a few seconds earlier. He liked it better then, when his brain was filled with static instead of all these memories threatening to drag him into their world. He heard someone say something. Were they talking to him?

He turned and saw Mic, so clearly the blond boy in that photo. He was young and smiling and the man right now was frowning, looking at Tenko with a crease between his eyebrows.

“You okay listener?” Tenko just barely registered the words. He needed to get out of here before the man realized, before his concern turned to righteous hatred. He needed to get out of here now.

“I’m fine.” Tenko wheezed out, using the last bits of air in his lungs to placate the man so that he would let him leave. “I’m— I’m fine, just tired.” Tenko made his way to the door. He was an ungainly, staggering being on staticky legs, lurching towards the exit. Somehow he made it. He turned the knob and let himself out. The hallway was a blur of unsteady steps and burning lungs. Tenko made it to his room. It was dark, dark like the memories that consumed him. He collapsed to the floor. His pencils and paper were scattered around him. Right at his fingertips was one that happened to be that exact shade of blue. 

It was dark, dark like the small pockets of space beneath a collapsed building.

—

Tomura was seven, nearly eight, and that meant that he was old enough to begin doing missions without Sensei by his side. He could hear the commotion of the villain fight going on around him, but more clear in his mind were Sensei’s words, instructing him that this was a lesson in how to run things from the shadows, how to influence the outcome without being noticed. Tomura was here to add to the chaos, but go undetected. A stealth mission! Sensei’s trust in him felt so good. It soothed the ever-present Itch along his skin. He was going to do this perfectly.

Tomura snuck around the building, observing the fighting as he went. The epicenter of the conflict was centered right around this building; perfect, that would be his target for chaos. The fight would be the perfect cover. He wouldn’t have to do much, really, and he could cause that much more destruction and Sensei would be proud! Tomura crouched and placed a hand on the foundation of the building, letting cracks race outward. Once he was satisfied that they ran deep enough, he took a few steps and, ensuring that he wasn’t being watched, repeated the process, sending spikes of Decay deep into the building. He moved again and did it a third time, looking up as a shadow sailed overhead. Tomura had barely paid any attention to the actual villain fight, but his attention snapped to it now as the aforementioned villain crashed into the building a few stories up from where Tomura was standing. 

Tomura watched in fascination as cracks from the villain’s impact raced down to meet his Decay. The cracks he had planted in the building’s foundation raced upward, as though eager to meet their counterparts. The building collapsed from some point underneath where the villain had struck the wall and cascaded towards Tomura with a cacophony of cracks and groans. Tomura felt pride light up within him as his plan worked flawlessly. A mere moment later, however, he was harshly reminded of his mortality and the building that was collapsing down around him.

Tomura threw his hands up above his head as rubble cascaded down around him. There was no time to move or to think, only to crouch down as the thunderous sound of falling concrete pounded against his skull.

Sudden, intense pressure landed on Tomura’s hand, growing quickly until he heard a sharp snap from his left arm. Then the pressure disappeared as the chunk of falling rubble succumbed to Decay. 

That’s probably the only reason I’m alive, was the first thought that came to Tomura’s mind once the roar of noise had quieted enough to let him think. He was crouched, good arm still above his head to deflect more rubble. Without his quirk to disintegrate anything that came crashing down on him, he would almost certainly be dead. Tomura took stock of his surroundings, coughing roughly as he breathed in the dusty air. He pulled out his phone and used the screen light to illuminate the space he was in. He was in a small crevice between two large sections of the collapsed wall with just enough room to crouch. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to tell Sensei that I did it.

There was no obvious clue as to which way would lead him out of the pile of rubble, so Tomura decided to follow the air pockets until he found something. He shimmied over and under jagged chunks of concrete, using his quirk to make a path when necessary. It was slow going with only one arm. He kept his broken arm tucked to his chest as best as he could, biting back tears of pain every time he jostled it. No. I will not be weak now. Not when I’m so close to getting this right. Tomura decayed a chunk of concrete, revealing a much larger air pocket than where Tomura had initially been. 

The first thing Tomura noticed was a pale blue cloudlike substance on the floor, so bright that it almost glowed in the otherwise total darkness. The second thing he noticed was a piercing blue eye, open wide and staring blankly in Tomura’s direction. Tomura crept forward, curiously. The villain? But no, it was clearly not a villain. This looked like a boy, older than Tomura, but not yet a man. He probably looked shorter than he was due to the rubble that seemed to be crushing his legs.

His left eye, wide open and still staring fixedly, was contrasted by the darkness coating the other half of his face. As Tomura moved closer, he realized it was blood. The boy was laying mostly on his side, but his shoulders and head faced more upwards, at a forty-five degree angle from where the sky would be. Half of his head looked caved-in. The concave wound was entirely coated in blood from just above his cheekbone to the crown of his misshapen head. Tomura spotted a large piece of rubble a few centimeters away that was coated in blood on one side. The other half of the boy’s face was intact, still staring blankly at the exact same spot as before.

Tomura was almost crouched over the boy now. Between his own breaths, Tomura heard a barely audible wet gurgling sound. He stilled for a moment listening. There it was again, a noise that barely passed for an attempt at breathing, accompanied by the smallest twitch in the boy’s ribcage. He’s still alive. Well, kind of.

The realization made Tomura’s skin crawl. The Itch burrowed deeper, causing an uncomfortable writhing sensation in his chest. He didn’t like the sound the boy was making. He preferred the silence.

“Are you actually still alive?” Tomura asked croakily, crouching down to stare at that one open eye. There was the barest dilation of the boy’s pupil. It made the wriggling thing in Tomura’s chest squeeze his lungs painfully. Get rid of it. “Don’t worry.” Tomura said, reaching a hand towards the boy’s shoulder. “I can make it stop hurting.” Tomura’s hand just barely brushed the boy’s shoulder. The cracks in the boy’s skin had just begun to appear, when another sound pierced the darkness.

Tomura’s phone was ringing. He withdrew his hand immediately, fumbling for his phone. Sensei. He finally found the answering button and pressed the device to his ear.

“Tomura.”

“Yes, Sensei?”

“Where are you?” Tomura gave Sensei the cross streets of his location.

“I saw the building collapse. That was your work?” Was Tomura imagining the hint of pride in the man’s voice? 

“Yeah.” He croaked. “I did exactly like you said, Sensei. Nobody saw me; I accomplished my goal while staying totally out of the picture.”

“Hmmm. Good.” Sensei said. Tomura perked up. “Tell me, where were you when the actual collapse happened?”

“I’m— well… I’m under the building Sensei.” Tomura said tentatively. Is he gonna be upset about that? The man hummed lightly.

“Well, isn’t that convenient.” He said. Tomura’s shoulder’s relaxed. “I was watching the news footage of that fight, waiting to see what you did. You see, Tomura, there’s a hero student with a rather interesting quirk that was caught beneath the rubble. I think it might be precisely what the dear Doctor and I have been looking for. Search for him for me.” This might just be my lucky day. Tomura’s pulse quickened.

“What does he look like, Sensei?”

“Blue hair, tan skin, blue eyes, and an aviator-inspired costume.” Sensei said matter-of-factly. Tomura chuckled slightly. This was his lucky day.

“I can definitely find him, Sensei. He’s here with me.”

“Well isn’t that convenient? Alright, Tomura, stay put. I’ll send the collection team in.” The man hung up without further instruction. The room was deathly quiet again. Another wet gurgle, weaker than before. The twisting in Tomura’s ribcage re-emerged. Tomura looked at the shallow wound he had inflicted on the boy’s shoulder, watching the way blood sluggishly oozed out of the crack-like incisions and slowly dripped down towards the earth. He fixated on it hard, trying to ignore that goddamn eye. 

“I can’t kill you anymore.” Tomura apologized. “You’ll just have to wait.” The boy remained as catatonic as ever, two degrees this side from being a corpse. Tomura hunched in on himself, settling in to wait. Just him alone in the darkness with a nearly-dead, gurgling remnant of a boy. 

It didn’t take long for the Doctor to arrive. Three figures spilled out of the black sludge-portal, making the space feel far more cramped. Doctor Ujiko barely spared Tomura a glance, moving immediately over to the boy. He beckoned over a second figure, a scraggly man who was holding something that resembled a featureless human body. The two men murmured over the boy for a minute as Tomura looked on. The scraggly man– whom Tomura only knew as the Bodymaker– bent down and touched the boy’s temple, where his head was caved in. He dabbed some of the blood on his fingers onto the featureless corpse-like thing he held and Tomura watched as it transformed into a perfect replication of the dying boy, clothes and all, only without the gruesome injuries.

“Come decay the rocks crushing his legs, my boy.” The Doctor beckoned to Tomura. Tomura did as he was told, watching with wide eyes as the rock crumbled away to reveal the mangled mess beneath. He watched silently as the two men picked up the broken almost-corpse and replaced it with the unmarred replica. 

“My boy, would you mind replicating the injuries for me?” The Doctor asked in a tone that was jarringly lighthearted. Tomura did as told. He walked over and picked up that bloodied rock. It was difficult with a broken arm but Tomura eventually managed. He gazed down at the imitation body. Its eyes, while open, weren’t nearly as accusatory as the real ones, Tomura thought. He dropped the rock on its head. It landed with a wet thump, before rolling off to reveal the new bloody concavity in the thing’s skull. Tomura used his quirk to cause a precarious piece of rubble to come loose from the ceiling. It landed on the body’s midsection, adding another plausibly deadly wound. For good measure, Tomura caused some rubble to rain down from the ceiling so that no one would guess the body had been placed there after the building collapsed.

“Good enough. Any scuff marks we leave behind will probably be attributed to the boy’s dying thrashes!” The Doctor said in his oddly serene voice. He was helping the Bodymaker hold up the boy. Surely he’s dead by now. He must be. Can the Doctor still get the quirk if the body is dead? “Contact All for One for pick up.” The Doctor instructed. Tomura pressed the specially-designated button on his phone. 

A few seconds later he felt the sludge welling in his throat then cascading out his mouth. The choking sensation was as awful as it always was. The sludge made its way into, then out of, every orifice until Tomura’s vision went black as it wormed its way out of his tear ducts. When he blinked again he was in the Doctor’s lab. 

I did it. I did it, I did it, I did it. The thought was all that repeated in Tomura’s head as he watched Sensei approach him, paying no mind to what the Doctor and the Bodymaker were up to now. The man placed an approving hand on Tomura’s head. I did it, I did it, I did it. It was almost enough to squash down that writhing in his insides. I did it. Sensei’s pleased. The thoughts drowned out the phantom gurgling from his ears.

— 

Tenko couldn’t breathe. He was choking again on concrete dust. It wasn’t the first time he had suddenly recovered a violent memory, but it never got any better. This one left him gasping for air, clawing viciously at his neck to quell the nearly overpowering Itch. He was drowning. Suffocating like that dying boy beneath an unfathomable weight of rubble. 

With herculean effort, Tenko ripped his hands away from his neck, grabbing his forearms and curling into a ball. He rubbed his thumbs over the burn scars that adorned each forearm, feeling the surface and the way it was too smooth in some places then too rough in others. His thoughts drifted to another night, where he was the one to talk someone else out of a panic. He focused on those memories, and though they contained arguably some of the worst moments of his life, they oddly calmed him. At least that night had a happy ending. 

It took a long time before Tenko could breathe again. But finally he took a breath and his mind cleared just enough to experience a coherent thought.

No fucking wonder Eraserhead hates me. Somehow, the man had put two and two together, and had realized that Tenko had caused the death of his friend. Who knows? Maybe he had even glimpsed Tenko the day of the building collapse, but hadn’t put the pieces together until Tenko had decayed that building at the USJ during training. That lead to another disquieting thought:

If Aizawa finds out, he’ll hate me too. And he’d be right. That thought alone nearly sent Tenko into another spiral. Tenko knew he’d be right, but he still recoiled at the idea. Mic and Aizawa had both been so kind to him, considering all the circumstances, and it would hurt to lose that kindness even if it was deserved. Still, it’s only right. It’s not fair to con people into caring about a monster. His breathing was becoming shallow again. Tenko really didn’t want to sit through another panic attack.

He reached for that pencil. The one that was the exact same shade of blue as that boy’s eyes. He drew one of his many sheets of paper towards him and began to draw. 

He drew until the early hours of the morning. By the time he fell asleep on the floor out of sheer exhaustion the papers around him were dotted with accusatory blue eyes and broken shapes. There were also full-face sketches of the broken boy with the caved-in head. In front of Tenko was one that was different from the others. This one contained a smiling, whole boy, grinning at the camera with his hands slung over the shoulders of the two incomplete figures on either side of him. 

Who was he? That was the question that plagued Tenko’s mind right up until sleep claimed him. He felt compelled to learn the name of this boy. Maybe if he knew more, this reawakened ghost would somehow leave him alone.

Chapter Text

Tenko purposefully lagged in his room the next morning, taking his time getting dressed and halfheartedly finger-brushing his hair, since he had left his borrowed hair brush back at the apartment. He didn’t want to face any of them this morning until he absolutely had to. 

Due to Tenko’s dilly-dallying, he was soon confronted by an annoyed looking Aizawa holding a jelly pouch and informing Tenko that they needed to get going. The man’s exasperated facial expression softened slightly when Tenko made his way out of his room and walked with him down the hall. Tenko supposed he probably looked horrible given the lack of sleep and the fresh scratch marks on his neck that weren’t fully hidden by the hoodie. Aizawa wordlessly handed Tenko the jelly pouch. 

“Thanks.” It felt wrong, accepting this man’s kindness. Tenko kept his head down and his gaze forward, looking anywhere but at Aizawa.

The itching was less overwhelming than last night, but still far more intense than it usually was, even given the new baseline he’s had to adjust to over the past few days. It was an unholy combination of his emotional turmoil and his relative lack of quirk usage throughout the past few days. The ever-present susurration of destructive urges that inhabited the back of his mind was louder than usual.

Grab Aizawa’s arm. Watch him crumble. Then you wouldn’t have to feel so bad around him. 

Hey, that girl’s ponytail is in easy reach. That thought was accompanied by an uncomfortably vivid mental image of Decay racing up her hair and destroying her skull. The sheer number of violent thoughts that unwillingly popped into Tenko’s head as he walked down the hallway filled with students was unnerving. He clenched his hands in his hoodie pockets.

He momentarily relaxed when Aizawa left him in the library, before remembering what he had to do. He didn’t particularly want to, but at the same time he felt compelled. He found the library’s collection of UA yearbooks and easily selected the year of Aizawa and Mic’s graduation. He had it memorized from his research on the Eraser-Mic case back in his world. 

He flipped through to the class list page, scanning for pale blue hair and bright eyes. He picked out the names and photos of a young Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi almost instantly. Interestingly, they were in the exact same place in the yearbook in this world as they were in Tenko’s. Still, after a few moments it became clear that the boy Tenko was looking for wasn’t on this page. He flipped through the other class pages just to be sure, and even checked the pages for other courses, even though the boy had been wearing a hero course costume in that photo. Nothing. Just to be safe, he flipped through the pages in their entirety. That’s when he found what he had missed.

It was one of the first pages of the section dedicated to graduating students. A two page spread dedicated to a lively, enthusiastic, bright eyed, blue haired boy. Shirakumo Oboro. That was his name, Tenko learned. He also learned that the boy had died midway through his second year, which explained why he wasn’t in the current third year class roster. He looked so vibrant, so alive, in the photos arranged across his tribute page. There were testimonials to his character and well-wishes from a number of students, including both Aizawa and Yamada. He was undeniably the same boy from that collapsed building thirteen years ago, yet he was also almost irreconcilable with that immobile, glassy-eyed thing that haunted Tenko’s headspace. 

Tenko carefully ripped out a small picture from the bottom corner of a smiling Shirakumo dressed proudly in his hero costume. He pocketed it without knowing exactly why. 

He returned to his table and tried to focus on his research. Surely there was something he could figure out that could get him back home without having to confront All for One. He knew he was lying to himself and maybe that’s why he found himself drawing endless pictures of a smiling, living Shirakumo. He can never get it quite right and he doesn’t really know why he’s so determined to.

Maybe if he could correctly recreate a living Shirakumo Oboro, then his persistent ghost would leave Tenko alone. It’s funny, despite all the bodies in his past, very few actually haunt him. Why is this one so persistent? Why is this dead person so alive in my memory? Usually the dead were quiet for Tenko. Today, though, they were not. 

It must be because Shirakumo is important. Tenko reasoned. He’s the missing link in this whole case, that’s why he’s bothering me so much. His existence explains why those two went rogue, but not why they might be working with him. Unless he also knew about their connection to Shirakumo? But how would he use that?

Tenko kept getting distracted from his musings, however, by the many drawings of a not-quite-right Shirakumo that now lined the scattered papers around him. Usually the dead were quiet for Tenko, but this particular ghost was rattling around his mind, rudely waking up other memories that Tenko thought he had put to rest.

Other faces joined Tenko’s sketches of Shirakumo. Most of them were twisted in surprise or pain. The ones that wore smiles never seemed quite right. Tenko’s pencil snapped as he found himself drawing a familiar little girl, hand reaching out to him from the page. Absolutely not. Whatever Shirakumo had done to him, Tenko didn’t like it. 

He stood up, checking the time. He couldn’t sit here anymore. Fortunately, he found that it was already more than halfway through the lunch period. Tenko vaguely remembered Aizawa telling him which outdoor gym 1-A would be training at today. Well, might as well head there early. 

The itch continued to plague Tenko as he walked through the halls, heading for the ground floor. It had only grown throughout the day. It was almost unbearable. Kill him. An image of a student stumbling as their left leg dissolved into ash and blood beneath them. You could just reach out and grab her. A surge of near-painful itching along his spine. It would be so goddamn easy to make all this pain go away. Why not just give in?

They couldn’t stop me. 

Tenko shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, walking more quickly. At least Tenko could breathe a little more freely when he got into the open air. But the Itch didn’t let go that easily. He needed to take care of this. He needed to quench his quirk before the thoughts got too loud. He would never be able to relax, never be able to trust himself, so long as he let those thoughts race through his head.

The training ground was empty when Tenko arrived. He was early, although the class would be here momentarily. This particular ground was a grassy field, like those ordinary schools would use for sports. There were bleachers for students to sit on and observe the field. A collection of pigeons was currently taking up residence there, probably interested in the remnants of snacks that students had left behind.

Tenko stalked towards them, movements growing slow and calm. His eyes locked on a particular bird, perched atop the outermost railing of the stands, as he made his way stealthily over. I have to feed my quirk. It was the only way to make it better at this point, especially without his medications or his hero work. Tenko’s heart pounded in anticipation of the coming relief. He was mere feet away. The birds still paid him no mind. He had practice with this. 

Suddenly, something startled the flock. Tenko wasn’t aware of what it was, only that the bird he had zeroed in on was taking flight. Quick as a flash he leaped, catching it by the left wing and pulling it back to earth. He grabbed onto its feathery body and closed his fist.

The cracks of decay along its skin were hidden by the bird’s feathers, so after an instant of seemingly nothing happening the bird began to ooze blood. The ooze rapidly turned to a cascade as the thing disintegrated in his hand, coating it with ash and feathers and blood. Some of the bird splashed around his feet as well.

The warm blood felt like a soothing balm against his itchy skin. A pleasant, tingly sensation raced up Tenko’s arm and throughout his entire body leaving a blissful calm in its wake. Tenko’s shoulders relaxed. Blood dripped from his palm. The sea of twisted thoughts within his mind quieted, allowing a blissful peace to pervade him. Tenko could breathe again and for a moment he let the relief flood through him, sighing contentedly.

That relief was dampened, however, when Tenko heard a small cut-off scream from behind him. He whipped his head around to find the majority of 1-A standing at the entrance to the training ground, watching him with varying expressions of dismay, disgust, and horror. Yaoyorozu appeared to be the one who had screamed and she now had her hand clasped over her mouth. Tenko hadn’t meant for them to see, but the relief of releasing his quirk dampened the discomfort of being seen like this.

“I’m sorry,” Tenko said simply, not quite meeting any one of their gazes, but walking over to them nonetheless, “I didn’t realize how soon you all would be arriving.” That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say, because after another moment of stunned silence from the class Yaoyorozu stepped forward.

“You’re just sorry we saw it?” She said indignantly, “Is that really all you have to say? That’s absolutely horrid!” She seemed pale, but absolutely resolute in her anger.

“What else did you want me to say? I know it’s disturbing to most people. I didn’t mean for all of you to see it. I’m sorry.” Still, Tenko’s voice, like his mind, was probably calmer than the situation called for. His placating words seemed to have the opposite effect. Yaoyorozu was nearly trembling with emotion at this point, but it wasn’t her who spoke up.

“Aren’t you sorry that you killed it?” A timid yet firm voice spoke out. Koda, Tenko remembered from when All Might had pointed him out briefly during the obstacle course training. Tenko thought this might be the first time he had heard the boy speak. Even now his voice was quiet and slightly shaky. “I–I heard it scream Shimura-san! Aren’t you sorry you— you t– you took its life?” This prompted a chorus of angry whispers and comments agreeing with Koda from the rest of the class. It was at that moment that Aizawa arrived.

Tenko was relieved to see the man. Hopefully he would be able to calm the class’s hysteria.

“Why aren’t you changing already problem children—” Aizawa abruptly stopped speaking as he took in the face-off Tenko was having with the class. “What’s going on here?” He questioned. Tenko saw the man’s eyes flicker to Tenko’s bloodied hand, which was still sluggishly dripping blood from his fingertips. “What did you do?” He asked, voice now laced with tension. Tenko opened his mouth to reply, but Uraraka beat him to it.

“He killed a bird, Sensei! With his quirk. We were just walking in and we all saw it!” She said, clearly angry as well.

“Yeah, he just snatched it out of the air and disintegrated it for no reason.” Kaminari added. “And he’s not even sorry!” Aizawa turned to Tenko, and although his expression was much more stoic, he seemed nearly as perturbed as his students.

“Is that true, Shimura?” He asked, voice steady.

“Yeah.” Tenko confirmed. He was beginning to feel a bit annoyed. I apologized, can’t we just move on? 

“He’s not even sorry!” Yaoyorozu said. “Aizawa-sensei, he was sorry that we saw it. He just killed the poor thing in cold blood. Koda said he heard it scream and he’s still not even sorry!” Her voice rose indignantly and the class’s indignation rose along with him.

“Yeah, I mean that’s just cold on another level, dude.”

“What the hell’d he even do it for?”
“ — seemed almost happy about it if you ask me.” The barrage of criticisms from the class was irritating. Tenko didn’t like it, but what’s more he didn’t like their stares. He hated the eyes he could feel on him. Sure, it wasn’t as bad as usual considering he still felt the residual calm from releasing his quirk, but he still didn’t like it. 

“Shouldn’t you start class or something?” Tenko grumbled to Aizawa. Surely, the man who had trained his students to pay attention to him from the moment he entered the room would agree with him here. Can’t we all just move on? Seriously, if they’re this traumatized by something like this how can they expect to make it out in the field?

“We need to finish discussing this first, Shimura.” Aizawa said flatly. 

“Yeah, you still haven’t even tried to justify yourself!” Uraraka accused.

“I don’t get why you’re so upset about it!” Tenko snapped, “It makes me safer and if none of you had seen it you wouldn’t know the difference so what’s the big deal?”

“You killed an innocent creature!” Uraraka countered. The rest of the class seemed to be in general agreement. Most were glaring at him, though a few still simply looked disturbed. “Koda said it cried out! It—”

“It doesn’t care!” Tenko yelled back, voice raising in something scarily similar to desperation. “It doesn’t care! That thing cared about what was happening for maybe five seconds before it died and now it doesn’t care anymore because it’s dead!” Why don’t you get it? But Tenko knew why. He was hunched in on himself now, arms crossed over his torso. He took a step back.

There it is. Guess they all know now. No use in pretending I’m not a monster. He knew he was supposed to feel bad. He knew he was supposed to feel guilty and sad about death. But most of the time he just didn’t. Dead things didn’t hurt. They didn’t feel. Dead things didn’t care whether they were alive or dead because they were gone. They didn’t make Tenko’s skin crawl and his chest ache like injured, sick, or suffering people did. He knew he was supposed to feel bad— he’d been told many times how normal people responded to death— he just couldn’t get his brain to work like it was apparently supposed to. 

Still he protested in a desperate, impossible search for understanding. He didn’t know why he even bothered trying to justify it. He knew he was wrong; everyone told him so. Everyone except a few, precious people that is. But they aren’t here right now. Still, Tenko was a demonstrably selfish being, so he searched for these people’s sympathy anyway with the naive shadow of a hope that perhaps they would understand. Even if I am a monster, it’s nice not to be seen as one, I suppose. 

“It doesn’t care anymore.” So why do you? Tenko’s voice was weaker than before. The air felt thin and he was sure that if he hadn’t just released his quirk he’d be completely panicking right now. Even so, Tenko could feel his tumultuous emotions rioting against the residual calm.

“Get changed. All of you.” Aizawa said, staring intensely at Tenko who still stood in his hunched-in position. Objections sat at the tip of half the class’s tongues. “No arguments.” Aizawa added finally, hair beginning to rise slightly from his shoulders. Apparently knowing better than to argue, the class complied. “Shimura, come sit down on the bleachers.” Tenko complied.

 Tenko sat on the first row of benches. Aizawa remained standing in front of him, an air of tension to his demeanor that Tenko hadn’t seen the past few days. Apparently, in upsetting the man’s class, Tenko had shaken the fragile trust the two had built. 

“What did you do?” The man questioned sternly.

“They told you already.” Tenko responded flatly, petulantly refusing to meet the man’s gaze.

“And you have nothing to add?” Aizawa raised an eyebrow. Tenko just shrugged. Aizawa appraised him for a moment. “Why?” He asked finally. 

“Like I said,” Tenko mumbled, “It makes me safer: quiets down my quirk for a bit.” 

“What does that mean?” The man’s voice was still laced with tension. I guess implying that I’m dangerous probably wasn’t helpful. Whoops.

“My quirk is destructive, it makes me destructive too.” Tenko explained, “When I don’t use it enough, those destructive urges build up. It’s better to release it intentionally than by accident.” That’s good enough, right? He shouldn’t need any more details than that.

Tenko didn’t want to explain the rush his quirk gave him, followed by that blissful calm. He didn’t want to explain that decaying living things— especially animals— worked so much better than metal and concrete. He especially didn’t want to delve into the sick pleasure that was his only relief and yet also his greatest vice.

But Aizawa didn’t ask, because Aizawa didn’t know. How could he? The man was eyeing Tenko in a way that implied he suspected there were more details to Tenko’s story, but he wasn’t sure whether they were important enough to warrant an investigation at this moment in time. Fortunately for Tenko, the first of the students were already jogging their way back out onto the training ground and Aizawa, clearly not wanting to waste any more of his precious class time, turned away from Tenko to go begin the lesson. 

Even as students began to pair off for the exercise of the day— two-on-two sparring— Tenko could feel their eyes on him. He watched them and because they were constantly looking over to where he was sitting, he made eye contact with several of them. All of them looked away hurriedly when they met his gaze, most turning to whisper to their friends. I can’t take this shit anymore. I’m already starting to itch again. All that shit will be pointless in the first place if I just keep sitting here.

I just don’t want to be looked at like that for a little while.

Tenko stood up, and made for the entrance to the field. Aizawa called after him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tenko waved a casual, vaguely annoyed hand over his shoulder.

“Bathroom. I’ll be back in a few.” Nobody called after him, so Tenko didn’t stop. He walked at a casual pace until he was sure that he was out of sight, keeping his posture relaxed even as his heart rate picked up. Once he was sure that he was clear of the training ground, Tenko bolted in the direction of the UA gates.

Chapter Text

Somebody, most likely Nedzu through his security cams, would spot him. Tenko knew that. But Tenko also knew that all he needed was to get out of this place before they could actually stop him. Besides, it wasn’t like he was going to do anything really. He’d be back in a little while, he just needed a break.

Tenko raced to the gates and was over the wall in a second, leaving a trail of shallow handholds in his wake. He ran for a few more moments, but slowed down as he reached a busier street in order to blend in with the crowd. It was a short walk to the nearest train station. Tenko hopped the turnstile and approached the nearest train, which was nearly finished boarding. He snuck into the last part of the queue and managed to climb aboard. The train was relatively full, so Tenko ended up standing towards the back of his car holding onto one of the poles for balance. He took in the map of the train’s route above his head, determining which line he had jumped onto. Perhaps not all his luck had abandoned him today, because his destination was easy to pick.

Tenko stared idly out the window, trying desperately to think of nothing. He was distracted, however, as he picked up on conspicuous whispering from a few streets away. Tenko glanced over to spot two middle aged women, one with short neon pink hair and the other with a dog-based mutation, muttering from behind their hands. The pink-haired woman had her phone pulled out and was typing on it rapidly. After a second she tilted her phone towards the other woman, whose eyes went wide. She immediately glanced in Tenko’s direction, then physically flinched as she met his gaze, turning away hurriedly. Tenko averted his eyes, but he could hear their ensuing whispers.

Right. It had been stupid of him to forget, honestly. He was so used to blending in with the crowds, rarely drawing any attention unless he was actively doing hero work, that he had momentarily forgotten just who he was here. Yeah, I’d be nervous too if a supervillain showed up riding the train on my morning commute. 

The two women weren’t the only ones who had noticed him either. Tenko noticed a few other scrutinizing eyes on him as he glanced around the train. It seemed as though most people were debating whether he was really the terrifying villain they had seen on the news or just an unfortunate lookalike. His casualty was probably the main thing throwing people off, which had seemingly prevented anybody from calling the police yet; most supervillains didn’t take the train back from work, in Tenko’s experience. Part of Tenko instinctively shrank under the growing fear and hostility. He was so fucking tired of everyone around him looking at him and only seeing something dangerous.

They’re right though. What if this whole universe just sees me as I really am? Tenko could feel his thoughts begin to reel. The phantom accusations of 1-A mixed with the whispers of those on the train, threatening to drag Tenko into a self-depricating spiral that seemed ever-closer with each passing day, but his training saved him. This situation was now a potential disaster and that’s where Tenko worked best. He took a deep breath, trying to pull himself free from the emotional turmoil of the past few hours. I’m in it now, I might as well use it. After all, he did have a problem that he already knew couldn’t be solved within the walls of UA.

Really, it was only a matter of time before word got around that Shigaraki had been spotted wandering Musutafu. The trick would be making sure the right people heard… and came to find him. 

Tenko didn’t immediately change his plan. He got off two stops later like he initially intended. He was within a few blocks from the ocean now, not far from his original destination, but he decided to take some detours. Tenko stopped in at a small grocery store, arbitrarily perusing some vegetables directly beneath a security camera. He glanced casually up towards it as though eying the ceiling, making sure that it got a good view of his face.

Tenko exited the store after that and strolled down the street some more. Eventually, he passed a group of teens one of which looked up at him. The kid’s eyes immediately went wide. Tenko saw him reach over to his friend, shaking her shoulder and gesturing purposefully. Tenko kept his head high, letting the teens see his face, but not drawing new attention from other passerbys. He needed to play this right. Too much attention and his plan was ruined. 

Tenko casually paused at an empty bus stop and sat on a bench, once again gazing idly in the direction of the lone surveillance camera that presided over the area. As though shifting his weight, Tenko put one hand off to his side, decaying the section of the bench beside him while holding the camera’s gaze. He sat for a few more moments after retracting his hand, as though he didn’t notice the damage he had just inflicted, before getting up and continuing towards his destination. 

He stopped at a small souvenir shop under the guise of perusing postcards in order to once again be caught by a camera’s gaze. Well, at this point he’s probably noticed me and if I hang around any longer there’s bound to be heroes on my ass. Luckily, it was only a block to Tenko’s intended destination now. He turned a corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

There was Takoba beach, like, the actual beach. Not the trash heap that Tenko had come here expecting to find. Tenko swore. 

“Fucking environmentalists or some shit. Cleaning my beach.” He grumbled as he walked down the steps to the sand. In his world, Tenko had been coming to Takoba beach for years when he needed to let loose. There he could destroy anything he pleased. He could let his quirk run wild and scream into the sunset from the top of a trash heap until everything drained out of him and the euphoria of using his quirk so much released the tension in his body. Now the beach was all useless sand that he couldn’t decay with his quirk. Tenko was momentarily tempted to tromp back into the city and find something else to dust— preferably something that would cause property damage, because at this point he was just so fucking done— but instead he grumpily postponed his meltdown and ambled along the shoreline, waiting to see if his newly conceived plan would actually pay off.

At the very least there were several bits of washed-up trash scattered along the beach, so Tenko was somewhat mollified as he picked them up and dusted them. Either he shows up or he doesn’t. If not I guess I’ll just wait around until I get arrested by whatever hero comes along. So Tenko continued on, decaying whatever trash or seashells he happened upon.

Suddenly– finally– Tenko caught a flicker of purplish mist out of the corner of his eye. He looked over to spot one of Kuroguiri’s portals appearing beneath the stone barricade wall. A misshapen, vaguely humanoid form clawed its way out of it. Tenko’s gamble had paid off. I always knew he was watching through the cameras.

This nomu wasn’t particularly imposing. It was small and relatively bony, with too-long legs and a short torso. Perched above its gaping humanoid mouth, right where its flesh met its exposed brain, were two large yellow eyes, glowing as they gazed at them from the shadows. The portal disappeared, and Kuroguiri formed in its wake, standing stock still behind the nomu. Tenko felt a twinge in his chest. He hadn’t planned on him being here.

 The nomu cocked its head in Tenko’s direction, then settled down on its hind legs. It sat as a dog might, with the palms of its pseudo arms resting on the sand, yet its back legs were in a criss-cross position, making the stance uncannily reminiscent of a human’s. The nomu gazed at him with its wide round eyes, then squawked lightly and blinked. Just like that night Tenko had first woken up in this universe, it projected a hologram of All for One, standing a few feet away from Tenko on the beach.

His image was fainter than it had been in the darkness of the bar, but that didn’t mitigate the fear that instinctively pooled in Tenko’s gut. The man stood before him, exactly as he had looked throughout Tenko’s childhood, not bearing the scars Tenko knew he had from his battle with All Might. This wasn’t a projection of his physical body, then. Probably it was closer to an avatar or something. 

It didn’t really matter. Either way Tenko’s heart was pounding in his chest. He’s not really here. Calm down. He needed to get information from him. If he was the reason Tenko was here in the first place, then he might be Tenko’s only chance at getting home. All for One smiled down at Tenko.

“Hello Tomura,” he practically purred, “I was just beginning to wonder how much longer I should wait before coming to find you. It was pretty rude of you to run out mid conversation like that. That isn’t how I raised you.” The admonishment made some small part of Tenko shrink back in fear of disappointing the man. He had to forcibly remind himself that he didn’t care about that anymore.

“Tell me, Tomura, are you ready to give the quirk to me now?” The man asked calmly.

“How did you know that I had it?” Tenko questioned. All for One waved a hand dismissively.

“That’s why we brought you here in the first place, of course.” The man said, “Actually, I can’t even really take credit for it. You see, I’m more or less… indisposed at the moment,” The man’s mouth twisted in mild displeasure, “but the good Doctor has remained as loyal as ever it seems.”

“Indisposed?” Tenko asked, “You mean you’re actually locked up?” That genuinely floored Tenko. He’d never honestly thought this living legend could be imprisoned. Is that another thing I fucked up in my world? Gah, stupid. Focus, Tenko! All for One seemed unconcerned,

“It is a minor inconvenience, to be sure, but I am about finished with this body anyway. In the meantime, I’ve got Tommy here to help.” He waved a hand at the nomu, “Besides, they couldn’t fully cancel all my quirks; I was still able to find you, Tomura, wasn’t I? Anyway, as I was explaining… you know of the Doctor’s… enthusiasm when it comes to quirk combination? Yes, well, quite some time ago now he was able to synthesize a physical exchange quirk that would swap two people between realities. That is altogether rather fascinating, yes?” 

“Not quite the word I would use.” Tenko drawled. All for One quirked an eyebrow and Tenko felt his heart instinctively clench. 

“Hmph, so you’ve got a bit of an attitude I see. Rather brazen, Tomura, when I’m about to make you such an important offer.”

“Offer?” Tenko couldn’t keep the tension from his voice. All for One waved him away again.

“I’ll get to that. What I was going to explain to you, Tomura, is that neither the Doctor nor I had a true plan for this hybridized quirk until very recently, when he combined one of the nomus’ quirk-seeking quirks with a quirk called Seer, allowing him to search for specific quirks across multiple possibilities— in this case, realities. And wouldn’t it be nice, I thought, if I could have One for All delivered to me after hunting it down for so long? Imagine my delight, Tomura, when we found a reality where you, my protege, held the quirk.” All for One was grinning now.

“And you thought I’d give it to you?” Tenko wasn’t sure how to feel about that. All for One simply smiled,

“You will.” There was no threat behind his words, only a calm sense of assuredness. Tenko felt his chest surge with a heat that clawed up his throat.

“Like hell I will.” It was almost a growl, only his voice quavered just slightly too much. All for One was as placid as ever.

“Of course it would have been ideal if you had willingly handed it over when you first arrived. No matter, you will hand it over, Tomura.”

“You can’t make me. Not when you’re like this.” Tenko could swear that the oxygen concentration of the air around him had decreased, with how much effort it took to force out those words. All for One chuckled,

“Well, that brings me to my offer, doesn’t it?” he grinned, “You see the translocation quirk that brought you here is permanent. Unless of course you use it again to switch back. From what I have gathered you want to go home, don’t you Tomura?” 

The hot indignation that had pervaded Tenko a moment before turned to ice within a moment, trickling down to the pit of his stomach. The cold made him wish for Touya’s warmth. 

Touya, Himiko, Shoto; Tomura could picture all their faces so quickly. He saw Kayama-sensei laughing as Tenko, tired from a busy patrol, had nearly run into her on his way back into the agency. He saw All Might’s warm eyes all those months ago when he had first given Tenko the quirk. He felt the cold, the fear and the mistrust that those eyes held for him in this universe. Yes, I do. I want to go home. Tenko wanted it so badly his chest ached. 

He wanted to go home, but he also just wanted to get away. Away from this world that seemed especially designed to highlight all the ways that Shimura Tenko had fucked up the lives of others. Away from this world that made it seem like  he was never meant to be a hero in the first place. But did he want it badly enough to give One for All to Sensei? 

It was the ultimate betrayal of everything that was entrusted to him when he was first given the quirk. It was the ultimate betrayal of All Might. It would be the final condemnation of any claim Tenko still held to being a hero. Funny, how it hurts so much to give up something I never wanted.

No. There has to be a better way. Tenko couldn’t accept it, not yet.

“I will not give you One for All.” Tenko wished he could rid his voice of that small quiver. All for One shrugged unconcernedly.

“Have it your way, but when you change your mind here is my offer: free me and give me the quirk and I will send you home.”

“Even if I was willing, what makes you think I would ever trust that offer, especially from you?” Tenko said defiantly.

“I have no reason to lie, Tomura. I want the quirk, I want to be free, and I’d rather prefer to have my Tomura back; he’s far more obedient than you are.” All for One’s gaze drifted from Tenko then, seemingly staring somewhere out over the waves and beyond the horizon. After a moment, he refocused. “Well, if you are not going to accept my offer at the moment then I suppose we will have to reconvene at a later date. From what the cameras are showing you have been noticed— you’ll have company soon.” The man smiled lightly. “I suppose, then, I’ll give you time to come around to my offer. I’m in far less of a hurry than you are.” The nomu blinked and All for One disappeared. Kuroguiri, like a statue come alive, swirled back into a purple-black portal and the nomu crawled back into his shadows.

—

Tenko stood facing the waves, listening to the sounds of the city emanating from behind him. For a few minutes there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, then Tenko’s straining ears heard the far off wail of sirens. Ah, there it is. Who will they send after me? Who would they deem worthy to face a threat like Shigaraki? Tenko awaited the attack he was certain was coming, staring out at the waves, outwardly placid but inwardly tense. It was a good thing, too, because there was no warning beyond a sudden ‘fwoosh’ to alert Tenko of the flames rushing towards his back.

Tenko’s training as a child may have been hellish, but it had made him fast. He was extremely grateful for that as he dodged to his left, rolling and coming up to face his attacker, who was glowering down at him from farther up the beach. 

“Coming in a little hot, don’t you think, Endeavor?” Tenko groused. Endeavor, to the surprise of nobody, ignored him.

“Surrender, Shigaraki, or you won’t like the consequences.” The Flame Hero boomed. Yeah, no. Fuck that. This was already a no-good-very-bad type of day. Hell, at this point it had been a no-good-very-bad type of week for Tenko. The only thing that could possibly make his mood any worse was surrendering to Endeavor of all people. On the other hand, landing a few kicks on the bastard seemed like a pretty worthy replacement to the meltdown Tenko had been forced to postpone. Sure, it wasn’t really Tenko’s fight— if anyone should get rights to knock Endeavor around it should be Touya— but Tenko was the only Endeavor-hating extraordinaire here at the moment, so it was basically his moral duty as a hero to put the man down a few pegs. So instead of raising his hands in surrender, Tenko placed one on his hip, pinky delicately raised, and cocked an eyebrow at the man.

“I don’t take orders from you.” Tenko drawled, calling on the bravado he used when out patrolling. Endeavor sent a jet of hot orange flames along the sand just to Tenko’s left, leaving a scorched, glowing trail of embers. Tenko sidestepped for good measure, even though the flames hadn’t been aimed directly at him. 

“This is your final warning!” The man bellowed. Tenko could already see the next attack blooming in the hero’s palms. 

“Or else what?” Tenko sneered. “You don’t have the stats too—” He cut himself off in favor of dodging the volley of flames that were sent his way. This time when he got back to his feet he launched himself towards the hero. “Thanks for the self defense case.” He muttered.

Despite Tenko’s outward confidence, he was already aware of two glaring issues. The first was that he was on sand, which severely limited the number of things he could use his quirk on in combat, especially without any of the weapons he usually used during his hero work. The second inconvenience was that he probably couldn’t get away with seriously maiming the man without severe consequences. Damnit. He’d have to settle with merely fucking with Endeavor as well as he could. 

Tenko ducked in close, aiming a kick at the man’s kneecap. He was thwarted by a blast of heat however and had to jump away. The maneuver did, however, position him on the uphill side of the beach, nearer to the retaining wall and to potentially decay-able objects. Endeavor wasted no time in aiming another volley of flames his way. Tenko continued the cat and mouse game he had begun, laughing as he ducked the man’s flames.

“Is that all you got?” He taunted the hero, “I train with flames hotter than you could dream of producing, old man.” He cackled. He knew from years of observing Touya just how to get under Endeavor’s skin. Laughing during what he deemed to be a serious matter was high on that list.

For a minute the two danced. Endeavor was deadly both at range and up close, which was difficult. Despite his massive size, the man was still incredibly quick, but Tenko was slightly faster, and he wasn’t above using the barest touch of One for All to give himself a boost. That extra speed let him circle the man, dodging an attack and jumping in close to swipe at him before he was forced to leap away again. 

There. Tenko saw his opening as he managed to briefly end up at Endeavor’s back. He jumped towards the man, fingertips outstretched towards the small of his back. That led to another discovery; Endeavor was surprisingly flexible. Tenko learned this as the man had to nearly do a backbend to avoid being touched. He was clearly unbalanced; he even windmilled his arms for a moment before he used a jet of flames to right himself and face Tenko. 

Tenko was already a few feet away, cackling at the position the man had been forced to contort himself into to avoid Tenko’s faint. He was pretty sure his arm hairs got singed from how he barely dodged the next jet of flames.

“Damn, Endeavor,” Tenko taunted even as he was panting, “I didn’t factor gymnastics into your stats.” Admittedly, it wasn’t his best work as far as wordplay went, but Tenko blamed it on his shitty day. Either way, it was enough to further deepen the man’s scowl, which was all he really cared about. 

“Do you think your schoolyard taunts will save you, Shigaraki? I always heard you were childish, but really, is this all I can expect from the leader of the League of Villains?” Endeavor growled as he leapt in for his own close range attack, which Tenko dodged without as much breathing room as he would have liked.

“I dunno.” Tenko panted, “Is this all I can expect from the great Flame Hero? No wonder you needed so badly for your kids to upstage you.” Tenko couldn’t fully dodge the blast of flames that followed that remark. Endeavor, whose glare was already legendary, grew even more infuriated at that remark. Tenko could feel his right pant leg being burned away, a burn forming on the skin beneath. He was growing tired more quickly than Endeavor.

Fortunately, their fight had moved up the beach throughout the past few minutes and Tenko was now placed directly beneath the rock retaining wall. He took a risk, letting One for All flood his body and leaping up above Endeavor’s next flame attack. He wouldn’t be able to make it to the top of the wall before Endeavor could launch another jet of fire at him, so instead Tenko grabbed onto the wall halfway up, creating a handhold. He twisted around until his back was towards the wall, creating another handhold and using the strength One for All lent him to brace himself in the corner of the wall. He was in a crouched position, hands out to either side and twisted somewhat awkwardly to grasp onto the wall and heels braced firmly against the rock, glaring down at Endeavor who was now nearly two meters below him.

Endeavor didn’t immediately bombard him with flames. Instead he shouted up at Tenko.

“Your tacky strategies can’t save you, Shigaraki. This is the end of the line.” Endeavor thought he had Tenko cornered, so he was taking his own time to hurl taunts. Tenko knew better. 

“You’re one to talk about tacky,” He hurled down, “walking around in a leotard like that. And orange? What a gaudy color. I always preferred blue.” Tenko knew his maniacal grin probably wasn’t all that heroic, but he didn’t care. He could see Endeavor’s eyes widen. Tenko might not know Touya’s entire story in this world, but he had correctly guessed that it would strike a nerve. The moment it took for that particular insult to land was all that Tenko needed to flatten his palms against the wall and let the cracks spread. The wall groaned as the dirt it held back pressed against its weakening restraint. Tenko jumped off, sailing over Endeavor’s head as the wall came tumbling down behind him. 

Endeavor did not get crushed by the wall, because that would be too much to ask for. There was, however, a blissful second in which the man watched with pure surprise as Tenko sailed over him. I should draw that expression for Touya. He deserves to see that. Tenko thought vaguely. By the time Tenko landed, Endeavor had propelled himself free of the rubble and was once again barreling at Tenko, using one hand to jet flames that propelled him forward while the other glowed nearly white as he prepared for an attack.

Then suddenly, Endeavor’s flames went out. The man stumbled, tripping and almost, oh so very nearly, falling flat on his face. Unfortunately, he caught himself, but he still ended up kneeling in the sand. Tenko decided then and there that he loved Aizawa’s quirk. He nearly fell over himself, cackling with mirth at the situation. 

Aizawa was less enthused than Tenko, it seemed. He was glaring at Tenko as he walked across the beach, stepped past the fallen Endeavor, and pulled handcuffs from his belt. 

“I swear to god, Shimura. If I have to do paperwork for this then I will personally make your life hell for the remainder of your time in this dimension.” Tenko was still grinning manically as he held out both hands, palms facing downwards.

“Honestly?” Tenko chuckled, “I feel like I’m in your debt at this point. Do your worst.” Aizawa’s face remained stony, but Tenko could practically feel the eyeroll emanating from him. He snapped the cuffs over Tenko’s wrists.

“Just go get in the damn cruiser so we can get this over with.” Aizawa groused. Tenko shrugged, allowing himself to be easily pulled along.

“Whatever. I surrender.” He said as they passed Endeavor, who was now standing but still had sand on his knees.

Chapter Text

“So what I’m saying is that I haven’t broken any laws so you can really just let me go.” Tenko concluded. Aizawa was pinching the bridge of his nose and staring at Tenko with dead eyes. Alright, no need to be so critical. Tenko thought his argument was pretty fool-proof honestly. Unfortunately for him, the detective still looked dubious.

“Everything with Endeavor was in self defence.” Tenko re-explained patiently, “He came in blasting flames at me. I don’t know about you, but that sounds a whole lot like lethal force and I’m really not looking to acquire any new burn scars.”

“It’s still unauthorized public quirk use.” The officer said dryly. 

“I have a hero’s license.” Tenko countered.

“A license that you can’t present to me, nor can you prove exists.”

“I told you, I left it in the wrong universe.” Tenko pouted, “I already explained all this to Tsukauchi. Can’t you just call him or something?”

“I did. Eraserhead insisted.” The detective stated, “That’s the only reason you aren’t in full-body restraints and on the way to Tartarus right now.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Tenko asked testily.

“The problem,” The detective said exasperatedly, like he had already explained this, “is that you just partook in a high-profile fight with the current number one on a beach in my jurisdiction.” Oh yeah, guess he did say that. Still, that seems more like your problem than mine, buddy.

“And?” Tenko asked, flatly. The detective blinked.

“And what?” The man sounded like he was at the end of his patience.

“Shimura, don’t you do detective work?” Aizawa butted in. 

“Yeah?” Tenko responded, unsure of where the man was going with this.

“So you work with the police fairly frequently.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Is this how you always deal with them?” Aizawa asked, exasperated, “Don’t you know how things work?”

“I guess, but usually I’m not cuffed to the table.” Tenko shrugged. He sounded nonchalant, but he felt the telltale prick of nervousness inside his belly. This reminded him a little too much of the night he had gotten here and a little too much of the time he had spent in law enforcement custody when he was fourteen. It reminded him how perilously thin the line between hero and villain was, particularly for Shimura Tenko. He didn’t like that. 

Aizawa gave a long-suffering sigh. 

“Just let me handle this.” He grumbled, turning to the detective, “What do you need us to do?”

Tenko had to admit, the process went relatively quickly after that. Although, had seen the mountain of paperwork one of the police men had dropped in front of Aizawa, which did make him feel a little bad about his actions, even if he stood by the fact that none of them were really that out of line. And Kami, don’t they know that prick Endeavor deserves to get knocked around a little?

—

Even with Aizawa’s ruthless efficiency, it was still past dark by the time Aizawa drove them both back onto UA’s campus. Almost the entirety of 1-A was hanging around in the common room when Tenko and Aizawa entered. They were chattering rowdily, most of them huddled around the couch that faced the TV. Ashido, Kaminari, Shouji, and Bakugou were playing Mario Kart and the rest of the students were crowded around the couch, either cheering their friends on or begging to be allowed to play next.

Eri was with them, sitting on one of the ottomans, holding a bowl of popcorn and watching the game unfold while Yaoyorozu placed various ribbons in her hair. Several other members of the class were also sporting various decorative hair accessories. Eri was the first to spot them, turning at the sound of an opening door. Her face noticeably lit up when she saw Aizawa.

“Shouta-san, you’re back!” She chirped excitedly, bouncing slightly where she sat. That drew the attention of Yaoyorozu, then the rest of the students one by one. Tension filled the air and Tenko could only assume that he was the cause. The room had gone quiet awfully quickly.

The familiar beginnings of the itch had been tingling at the base of Tenko’s spine ever since he had used One for All in his fight with Endeavor and now, under the weight of the class’ tense stares, it came back in force. It shouldn’t be this bad already. It was still perfectly manageable, and the violent thoughts that accompanied the itch were so far little more than an occasional annoyance, but it was far stronger than it should have been considering just how recently Tenko had released his quirk.

“Hello, Eri.” Aizawa said, ignoring his class’ obvious unease, “You’re all gathered here rather late for a Monday. Don’t you lot have homework to attend to?” It was Iida who spoke up,

“We all convened rather organically this evening to… er, watch the news.” The boy said. So apparently all that shit was televised. Tenko wasn’t surprised and he didn’t really care, but it did explain the police’s annoyance with him a little bit better. “Then it sort of… evolved.”

“We stole Eri when she came in with Yamada-sensei!” Mina piped up delightedly. “That’s when it became a full-on hangout sesh!” Eri bounced slightly in her seat, a small grin creeping onto her face. Aizawa seemed to soften,

“Carry on, then. As long as you get your work done somehow I really don’t care.” He relented, “Eri, it’s getting late, time to go start getting ready for bed.” Eri pouted,

“Can I stay for just a few more minutes, please?” She begged, although there was a certain level of timidity in her voice and posture that indicated she would go if told again. Aizawa, however, seemed weak to her pleading.

“Alright, just fifteen more minutes.” He huffed. “I’ll be back down to get you then.” 

“Thank you!” Eri gave another small smile, then her eyes lit up as though she had gotten an idea. “Tenko-san, can you stay too, please?” She chirped. Tenko could visibly see several members of the class stiffen. 

“I don’t—” He muttered, unsure of quite how to deny her, but Aizawa, again caving to Eri’s request, made the choice for him. 

“Sure.” He said gruffly, giving Tenko a light shove in the correct direction. “Behave! All of you.” He said as he made his way towards the staircase, “If anything is broken, on fire, or otherwise destroyed by the time I come back, then you will all be serving detention for the rest of the term.” And with that, he was gone, leaving Tenko alone in the room with a less-than-friendly class 1-A and Eri.

Tenko stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do with himself. Then, Eri called him over,

“You can come sit with me!” She chirped. So Tenko made his way over to the ottoman where she was. He lowered himself to the floor near her. The class’ stares were less than friendly, so Tenko turned towards Eri, looking towards the small child for his social cues. Her eyes had lit up, which seemed to be a good sign. “Can Yaoyorozu-san and I do your hair?” She gasped delightedly. Tenko blinked.

“Sure. I guess.” He said flatly. He turned around and leant against the back of the ottoman so that Eri could have easy access to his hair. It’s a tangled mess anyway. Not like it couldn’t use a little bit of attention.

“Yaoyorozu-san!” Eri spoke, suddenly full of authority. “You brush his hair and I’ll pick out the clips.”

“Okay, Eri-chan.” Yaoyorozu hesitantly agreed. One of the boys had re-started the game of Mario Kart. It was good not to be sitting in total awkward silence. There were definitely still eyes on him though and after a brief moment of looking around Tenko determined that the chief offender was Shoto. Yeah, that’s fair honestly. Between the accidental hair-ruffle incident and Tenko’s less-than-subtle dislike for Endeavor, it was reasonable for the kid to have questions, especially considering that his living situation here was definitely different from Tenko’s world.

Tenko realized that although Yaoyorozu had shifted to sit behind him, she had made no move to touch him. It made sense given that they were basically perfect strangers, so it was pretty weird to allow her to touch his hair, but she also had orders from Eri. Those seemed to trump social norms, so Tenko assumed her hesitance was also largely due to the fact that she probably still saw a lot of Shigaraki in him. Probably even more, after today actually. Seems like I keep proving us similar instead of different.

“It’s fine,” Tenko whispered to her. “Kid’s orders. I won’t bite.”

“That’s… not what I was concerned over.” Yaoyorozu admitted, then stiffened. “I apologize, that was indiscreet of me.” In answer, Tenko purposefully folded his hands in his lap, ignoring the flare of itching along the base of his neck. She was right, of course, and especially after today could he really blame her? 

Tenko’s teeth had never been the thing to fear.

The hair dressing began in earnest after that, with Eri as the lead stylist. Tenko mostly just played his part as the mannequin— between Touya and Himiko, it was far from his first time— observing the rest of the class as they interacted with each other.

Kaminari, as it turned out, was actually pretty good at Mario Kart. Bakugou was only decent but also insanely competitive. He was very quickly relegated to time-out after a couple losses to Kaminari. Shoto was still staring intensely at Tenko and most of the class was still shooting him the occasional suspicious glare, but nobody said anything because of Eri’s presence. She really does have a vice grip on us all. Tenko thought wryly. Beside Shoto, Midoriya was also staring at Tenko, but he seemed to be more curious and amused rather than completely hostile. 

As Eri began to place various decorative clips into Tenko’s hair, Tenko turned his attention to the  ongoing competition. Kaminari was currently the reigning champion and he was making sure that everybody knew it.

“Suck it, Kirishima-kun! You’re no match for me.” He crowed. Tenko snorted at the kid’s gloating. 

“Don’t get too cocky, kid.” He murmured. If the class weren’t all hyper-aware of him, they probably wouldn’t have noticed Tenko’s muttering, but as it was Kaminari turned around, eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“Huh? You think you could do better?” He asked with a definitive note of challenge in his voice. Tenko raised one eyebrow and blinked at him placidly.

“Yeah.” He said simply. Kaminari looked a little offended. “You’re not bad, I’m just better,” Tenko stated. “I was an under-socialized child. I had lots of time to get good.” Kaminari’s wariness had been chased away by growing skepticism and intrigue.

“‘You serious?” He asked. Tenko just raised an eyebrow. “Prove it.” Kaminari challenged. Tenko pointed to his hair, where he could feel Eri still carefully positioning sparkly barrettes. 

“I’m a bit tied up at the moment.” He drawled. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the invitation to be honest. It would be weird to partake in such a social activity when he was on less than friendly terms with the majority of the class. A less cautious, more childish part of him really wanted to get his hands on a console, if only because he had gone so long without one of his usual methods of de-stressing.

“I’m done!” Eri announced gleefully, making the decision for Tenko. “Look how pretty Tenko is!” She exclaimed, proudly showing him off to the class and accepting their compliments. Tenko could see some of the class holding back laughter. 

“Yo, dude, that’s totally trippy,” Kirishima exclaimed, controller forgotten by his feet. He glanced around at his classmates. “Do you think Shigaraki would be less scary if he had hair like that whenever he attacked our class?” The boy joked.

“I somehow feel that it would still be terrifying.” Ashido mused.

“I think you underestimate how much sparkly barrettes can undermine intimidation.” Sero pointed out. 

“Pretty sure the deadliness factor can overcome cute hair adornments.” Jirou piped up. 

“Wait,” Kirishima interjected, struck with an idea, “Shimura-san, can you say something that Shigaraki would?” Mina instantly jumped on board, pulling out her phone,

“Oh my god, yes!” She exclaimed, “This is gold, you absolutely have too!” Some of the tension had dissipated at the humorous implications of Kirishima’s suggestion. 

Tenko was unsure how to feel. On one hand, he disliked being compared to the villain. He was already painfully aware of how incredibly similar they were. Probably more similar than these kids realize, even. But on the other hand, weren’t they pointing out how much he didn’t resemble Shigaraki? The humor stemmed from how ludicrous it would be for Shigaraki to be in this situation. Maybe I didn’t completely fuck this up after all. Maybe the events of the day hadn’t fully ruined 1-A’s perception of him. 

And maybe he’s stupid for caring in the first place, but that naive spark of hope encourages him to play along.

“Alright, fine.” He agreed. “What do you want me to say?”

“I dunno, pretend that you’re in the middle of a triumphant monologue.” Kirishima suggested. “Ramble about hero society and All Might or something.” 

“Oookay.” Tenko agreed unenthusiastically. Ashido raised her phone camera in anticipation. Tenko raised a hand to his face and tilted his chin up, staring down at the camera. He summoned a slightly crazy grin to his face— he was pretty sure it was the one he had worn a few hours ago when fighting Endeavor. He summoned just a little bit of his fourteen-year-old self, trying to mimic the Shigaraki he had seen in videos. It was awkward at first.

“Alright, listen up heroes,” He said, trying to fix the camera with a glare through his fingers, “You’ve been defeated and now, uh, now I will watch you crumble.” He was no actor and even though he had plenty of experience putting on a persona for his hero work it was difficult to convincingly portray such cartoonish evil. That doesn’t sound like something either I or Shigaraki would say.

“But why,” Ashido cried dramatically from behind the camera as though she were a terrified onlooker, “Why do any of this? We’re just trying to save people; that’s what heroes do! Why are you so hell-bent on destroying that?” Her prompting caused Tenko to scoff; this at least was something that he could answer.

“You heroes have no idea of the dependency you create. You’re nothing but a fragile figurehead for justice that lets everyone else forget about the people they fail to help; the people that they ignore.” Tenko used old bitterness to color his voice; it wasn’t quite the worldview he ascribed to anymore, but it was familiar. 

“You’re a crutch.” He sneered, “A band-aid that covers up a wound and lets disease fester in society. All your ‘symbols’ and ‘pillars of justice’ are just pretty faces to distract from the fact that this system must be razed to the ground. Now, you will sit back and watch it crumble!” Tenko let his grin stretch wide as he finished the speech, fixing the camera with a mad glare, just barely tinged with a spark of vulnerability.

Then he let it drop, returning his face to a near deadpan as he dropped his hand back into his lap. 

“How was that? Still scary with the sparkles?” The room was quiet. Most of 1-A was staring at Tenko with varying degrees of alarm. 

Shit. It had been good, too good. Tenko had slipped into form so easily. It’s like I never grew up at all. 

“Yeah… deeefinitely still scary with sparkles.” Kaminari said weakly, trying to lighten the tension. It didn’t work.

“How much of that do you really believe?” Shoto spoke up abruptly. “Because that didn’t seem like that was just acting.” His voice was outwardly calm, but Tenko could read the tension in it, along with the dozens of questions that Shoto couldn’t ask while surrounded by his classmates and Eri. 

“Not most of it.” Tenko assured, but he couldn’t quite meet Shoto’s eyes. “Not anymore.”

“Are you sure?” Shoto pressed, “Because you really didn’t seem to have much of a problem fighting another hero this afternoon.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Tenko defended. “I have… personal reasons to dislike Endeavor. I don’t just hate heroes anymore, even if I think the system is fu—” Tenko abruptly remembered Eri, “ —flawed.” Shoto looked like he wanted to press for more of an explanation, but he was stopped by Midoriya, who put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. He looked like he wanted to say something, but was beaten to it by Bakugou,

“Tch. Still, you’re not exactly the picture of heroism after today, are you?” The boy accused. “Between what happened this afternoon, your fight with Endeavor, and your quirk, the resemblance to Shigaraki is just icing on the cake, isn’t it?” The class’ resounding silence sounded like an accusation in and of itself.

“Kacchan!” Midoriya hissed, “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Why the hell are you defending me, kid? But he knew why. His conversation with Midoriya about One for All had been more than enough to demonstrate the kid’s infallible determination to see the good in people. It was naive, but still… It helped calm Tenko’s growing itch. 

“And you do?” Bakugou scoffed.

“More than you th—” Midoriya cut himself off with a small squeak, then hastened to correct course, “Regardless, I still think you’re being unfair.” That did not help de-escalate the situation. Bakugou rose in his seat, glaring at Midoriya and opening his mouth for a response. It was at that moment Eri piped up, effectively cutting off whatever Bakugou had been planning to say,

“Shimura-san is a hero, though.” She said carefully, “He told me that you can do good things, even with a scary quirk. Even if he acts scary, he still helps people. He helped me.” She finished quietly. Tenko’s heart clenched. He craned his neck backwards to gaze up at the little girl who was perched on the ottoman behind him.

“Thanks, kid.” Was all he could think to say. Eri looked down at him with a small smile that quickly turned into a little frown as she scrutinized his hairline. 

“You moved this one out of place.” She stated as she reached to re-adjust a glittery blue butterfly clip. Tenko let her work, mesmerized by the casualty with which she touched him and how firmly she had come to his defence. For the first time in what felt like forever, the itch ebbed somewhat.

Aizawa chose that moment to make his return, effectively allowing Tenko to escape any further dissection from 1-A. As he stood up, he noted the mixture of gazes that were still directed towards him. Most were still mistrustful, but few were as obviously terrified as they had been before. Midoriya looked almost apologetic. 

It took a moment of coaxing, but Eri eventually hopped down from the ottoman and scampered over to Aizawa, grabbing his hand and reluctantly waving goodbye to the class, wishing them a good night. 

“Ready?” Aizawa asked once she finished. She nodded, then looked around to Tenko who was standing on her other side, waiting for Aizawa to lead the way back to their floor. She reached her free hand towards him. 

Huh? It took a second for Tenko to realize what she was asking for. When he did absolute terror momentarily iced over his entire body. Without looking, he could feel the class’ gaze sharpen once more. 

No. No I can’t. Was Tenko’s initial panicked thought. His eyes flicked up to Aizawa for help, but the man just raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

Soft things, gentile things, they all just crumbled when Tenko was around. For a split second, Tenko felt phantom fur mixing with blood on his palms. Then, he steeled himself. Deliberately, Tenko curled both his ring and pinky finger in towards his palm, then extended his hand. Eri grasped his remaining fingers and happily led the way up to the dorm. 

Once again, Tenko cast an uncertain glance in Aizawa’s direction. A small smile played on the man’s lips. Apparently he was used to the shocking amount of power that this small girl unknowingly wielded. Who knew?

Chapter Text

Tenko never made it to the library the next morning. Instead, Aizawa led him to Nedzu’s office, where he unceremoniously abandoned Tenko, telling him only that Nedzu wanted to speak with him. As Aizawa’s footsteps hastily retreated down the hall, Tenko turned to the principal’s door, raising a hand to knock. 

As it always did, Nedzu’s door clicked and swung open just before Tenko’s knuckles could graze its surface. Nedzu was sitting at his desk, appraising Tenko with his inscrutable, glittering black eyes.

“Good morning, Shimura-kun!” The rat greeted brightly, “Come, sit down! Would you like some tea?”

“Uhhhh… sure.” Tenko agreed. In all his years of interacting with Nedzu, Tenko had never quite learned how to read him. Is he pissed about yesterday? Tenko had known even as he was making a run for it that Nedzu would know about his escapade sooner rather than later, but he hadn’t really stopped to consider the implications of that. With a vague sense of trepidation Tenko sat down and accepted the steaming cup of tea the Nedzu handed to him. 

“Now,” Nedzu began cheerily, “I believe the logical place to start our little conversation is with yesterday’s events.” Is that an actual smile, or a threatening one? It was hard to tell with Nedzu's inhuman face. Tenko aired on the side of caution. He had long since learned that pride got him nowhere with Nedzu.

“I’m sorry for running away, Nedzu-sensei,” He apologized, “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.” Nedzu hummed,

“While I appreciate the sentiment, Shimura-kun, that isn’t the matter of most concern to me. Rather, I’m more interested in what occurred leading up to your abrupt departure.” Tenko’s heart clenched. That was a much more uncomfortable subject. 

“I should have you know that the mistreatment of animals doesn’t sit well with me Shimura-kun.” The good humor had drained from Nedzu’s voice, leaving it terrifyingly cold. Tenko’s blood ran cold.

“I didn’t—” Tenko began hastily, before realizing that defensiveness might not be the best option. “I understand, Nedzu-sensei.” He continued with deliberate calm, “It wasn’t malicious, if that helps.”

“The suffering inflicted is more important to me than the intent, Shimura-kun.” Nedzu said coolly.

“It didn’t suffer. It was quick.” Tenko said automatically. 

“And it is dead.” Nedzu added, a slight growl creeping into his words. Tenko looked at Nedzu, thinking hard. The bird was dead, not suffering, not frightened, not anything anymore. But it clearly bothers Nedzu. Tenko wasn’t stupid, he could guess at why animal death bothered Nedzu so much— especially at the hands of a callous human. How do I fix this?

“I’m sorry.” Tenko began with the logical thing to say. “I…. I had to.”

“A quirk-related incident, then?” Nedzu questioned, his voice carrying just a bit less of the cold anger. Tenko nodded. “I suspected as much from what you said to the class. It’s related to Decay, correct?” Tenko nodded again,

“Trust me, Nedzu-san, it’s better for everyone if I keep it in check.” 

“I’m going to require a little more explanation from you, Shimura-kun.” Nedzu pressed. He wasn’t going to let Tenko off with his usual minimal explanations. Not for something like this.

“If I don’t use my quirk, the urge to let it loose gets progressively stronger.” Tenko relented, “My thoughts become progressively more… ah, violent and the Itch gets worse.” 

“Why not decay an inanimate object?” There was a note of challenge in his voice.

“Living things work better.” Tenko admitted, not meeting the rat’s beady eyes, “I would have to decay a lot more to achieve the same effect with nonliving things.”

“But you could achieve the same effect?” Nedzu pushed.

“Eventually, probably.” Tenko responded, getting the distinct feeling of being a cornered animal. 

“Then why did you choose to take it out on an innocent creature?”

Because I didn’t think it would be missed. Tenko bit back his automatic, honest response. Instead,

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he admitted. That was true, “I was a bit… desperate, I guess, and I wouldn’t have wanted to cause a shit ton of property damage either.” Nedzu appraised Tenko for a long moment with his unreadable eyes. Was that the wrong thing to say?

“Is this usually how you cope?” The rat asked finally, lacking a bit of his previous, accusatory tone. 

“Not since I was a kid. I usually use targeted quirk suppressants,” Tenko admitted, “that plus my hero work usually keeps it in check.”

“Usually?” Nedzu, predictably, didn’t miss a beat.

“It’s… gotten stronger lately.” Tenko said hesitantly.

“Ah, yes, that makes sense given the nature of One for All!” Nedzu commented, back to his usual superficial delight. Tenko started. He hadn’t thought Nedzu would know about that quirk. Honestly, I should have expected him to know. “Well, I will see what I can do about replicating your prescription— though I sincerely hope you won’t be with us long enough to need it— but in the meantime please come to me if you feel the need to release your quirk again and we can find an alternate solution. Your previous methods will no longer be tolerated.” Just like that, with his final sentence, all the malice returned to Nedzu’s words, sending shivers down Tenko’s spine. Should I apologise again? Tenko wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if he could do anything other than accept Nedzu’s ire. Before he could come to a conclusion the principal abruptly resumed his cheer,

 “Now, that reminds me! I initially wanted to discuss how you came to be here and, more pressingly, how to get you back to your proper universe.”

Tenko stiffened. A rush of conflicting emotions arose inside him. First there was excitement; if anyone could get him home, it was this genius enigma of a principal. Then guilt arose within his chest, followed by trepidation as he thought back to All for One’s proposal the day prior. He wasn’t desperate enough to cave to that demand. He wasn’t. But what if Nedzu thinks I would? What if he doesn’t trust me? What if he thinks I’m just a villain waiting to happen, and refuses to help? It wasn’t exactly like the morning’s conversation had been a ringing endorsement of his character. 

Why the hell would he trust a selfish, compassionless beast?

Tenko had taken too long to respond, so he forced out a meager reply. “I’m all ears, Nedzu-san.”

“Yes, well, I believe that our most likely route to success begins with you, Shimura-kun. Naturally, I’ve researched all known quirks that ostensibly could have resulted in your predicament and I’m regretful to say that there are no viable candidates that I know of. I was hoping, Shimura-kun, that you could share anything you know about your situation in hopes it may provide me with new avenues to research.” Tenko felt a small wash of disappointment. Part of him was hoping that he had missed something during his research and that Nedzu would have dredged up a solution that didn’t involve nomu. 

“Well, I’m glad we came to the same conclusion at least.” Tenko sighed. No single quirk was going to get him home. Nedzu brightened.

“I’m pleased to see you’ve been doing your own research, Shimura-kun! Two minds are always better than one.” Nedzu probably counts for three minds on his own, but I guess he’s polite enough not to mention that. “Now, is there anything you can tell me about the night you arrived here?”

Tenko told him nearly everything. He left out All for One’s words— the implication that he wanted Tenko’s quirk— because Nedzu would probably reach that conclusion anyway. Better to have him think I don’t know. That will give him less reason to distrust me. 

The trickier part was figuring out how to relay the information he had gleaned from his recent encounter with All for One without revealing the interaction itself. 

“I… have a past with All for One.” Tenko admitted haltingly, “He basically raised me, so I’m familiar with him and with his… experiments.” Tenko hesitated, planning out his next words carefully,

“He can manipulate quirks and the guy who creates the nomu is basically a mad genius. They’ve done some pretty crazy things, so I was wondering if they could have intentionally created a way to bring me here?” Nedzu hummed, looking genuinely contemplative as he sipped his tea. Tenko realized that his own had probably gone cold by now. 

“That is an interesting thought, indeed. If it were true, it might allow us to reverse engineer, as it were, what was done to you. Hmmm, yes, it’s definitely worth looking into. What can you tell me about the Nomu, Shimura-kun?” Now there was a spark of hope. Tenko might not be able to tell Nedzu everything without arousing suspicion, but there was plenty he could still say.

So Tenko told Nedzu about the nomu, giving him all the information he had learned when he was a kid under All for One’s care. He recalled the various shapes, sizes, and quirks of nomu he had fought during his training. He tried to remember any time a nomu used two quirks in tandem, or any time a quirk seemed unusually complex. There were lots of tidbits of information buried in Tenko’s memory, now that he knew where to look. He meticulously recounted every nomu he had ever personally laid eyes on, from the small teleportation nomu, Johnny, to Kuroguiri, even though it made his heart twinge uncomfortably.

Interestingly, Nedzu straightened at that,

“Kuroguiri?” He questioned, “I hadn’t realized he was a nomu. Oh, this is fascinating!” Nedzu sipped his tea in contemplation again. Tenko could practically hear the gears whirring, like some high-powered machine coming to life. 

“I wonder…” Nedzu mused, “Of course his quirk isn’t exactly similar, but it does deal in warping space and transportation. It’s not perfect, but it’s at least a place to start.”

Tenko hadn’t considered that, but given that the one solution he actually knew of was not one that he was willing to utilize, it was at least worth a try.

“Maybe… I’ll admit, I don’t know much about his quirk, but if you think it’s worth a try then what’s our next step?”

“Hmmmm… that remains to be seen.” Nedzu admitted. “What strikes me as particularly interesting, Shimura-kun is that Kuroguiri’s quirk is nonexistent in any registry that I could obtain— we identified all the individuals and quirks we could at the USJ. Given what you’ve just told me, I wonder if it could be an altered— or enhanced— version of some original quirk. Yes, yes, it’s definitely worth looking into. Even if it’s not what we’re looking for, learning how All for One and this scientist manipulate quirks is probably a crucial component…” Nedzu seemed to become briefly lost in thought. Or perhaps his mind was simply racing at a pace too rapid for words. After a moment he refocused on Tenko.

“This is interesting indeed, but I don’t want to take up too much of your time, Shimura-kun. Why don’t you go and grab some lunch, and I will have a proper plan of action put together the next time that we meet.” Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Tenko agreed.

“Fantastic! I will see you tomorrow morning, then, Shimura-kun!” Nedzu finished.

—

Tenko found a quiet hallway to pass the remaining time until 1-A’s heroics training. At Nedzu’s mention of lunch, Tenko’s body had remembered that all he had eaten that morning was another measly jelly pouch. That was also the only thing he had eaten the day before. Whoops. Still, despite his hunger, Tenko wasn’t all that keen on walking through a cafeteria that was currently teeming with UA students and staff. The very thought made him raise a surreptitious hand to his neck. 

Kuroguiri. Well, at least it was a case Tenko was familiar with.. He had a whole case file tucked away in his desk at home. He felt that slight hollowness that always grew when he thought for too long about the man— or nomu, as it were. Still, gotta do what I gotta do. Anything’s worth it if it gets me home.

The sadness that would undoubtedly be dredged up by investigating Kuroguiri all over again was nothing compared to the ever-growing hollow spaces Tenko’s family occupied. He really missed Touya’s warmth, Himiko’s perpetual excitement as she painstakingly deciphered medical textbooks, and the casual familiarity he had with Shoto. All of it was painfully absent.

Cut it out. The best thing I can do is stay focused on figuring out a way home. Sentimentality isn’t going to help anyone. Tenko pressed himself up from the wall he had been leaning on and began to amble his way towards 1-A’s designated training ground for the day. Tuesdays were typically dedicated to one-on-one sparring, apparently.

— 

Tenko met up with Aizawa shortly before they both entered the training gym. Tenko suspected that Aizawa had arrived slightly early for the express purpose of making sure Tenko wasn’t alone in the room. Fair enough, considering it’s two-for-two when it comes to creating disasters. After that, it didn’t take long for All Might, and then 1-A to arrive. 

The class had just begun trickling back out from the training rooms when an unexpected figure stormed through the gym doors.

Well, maybe not entirely unexpected.

Endeavor wasn’t exactly known for letting go of things easily. 

Tenko couldn’t help but bristle as the man’s ever-enraged eyes locked onto Tenko. The man made his way over, redirecting his attention to All Might as he spoke. 

“What is the meaning of this?” The man boomed once he was standing face to face with All Might. “Why the hell villain filth anywhere near my son’s instruction!” Endeavor’s flames flared in his fury. Tenko noticed movement in his peripheral and realized it was Shoto, who had just exited the changing rooms only to freeze at the sight of Endeavor. His face remained typically emotionless, but Tenko was certain he could see the boy’s posture stiffen.

All Might was, predictably, flustered at Endeavor’s sudden, explosive appearance.

“En-Endeavor!” He exclaimed, “I assure you, it’s not what you think, Shimura-kun here isn’t actually a villain, you see.” It never failed to surprise Tenko how quickly the boisterous Symbol of Peace devolved into a flustered mess when confronted by pretty much anyone who wasn’t an outright villain. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Has this hellspawn somehow tricked you into thinking you can ‘save him’?” Endeavor’s voice practically dripped with vitriol and derision.

“Endeavor-san.” Aizawa spoke up. He didn’t yell, but the slightest hint of weightlessness in his hair ironically lended gravity to his voice and glare, “You cannot barge in here and disrupt this lesson. If you cannot calm yourself then you will have to leave.” Aizawa’s tone left no room for argument.

For a moment, Tenko thought Endeavor was going to explode. Then, the man took a deep breath and seemed to forcibly corral his rage. After a moment of silence, All Might spoke up again, seemingly having recovered some of his normal bravado which, even in his true form, commanded a certain level of attention.

“As I was saying, Endeavor,” All Might began, “Shimura-kun is not a villain, because he is not Shigaraki. I made the mistake myself at first, but it’s very clear now that the two are entirely separate people. Shimura-san just wound up in the wrong universe, so he is staying at UA in order to avoid any… er… incidents.” The confidence with which All Might distinguished Tenko and Shigaraki made something warm flutter in Tenko’s chest. Jeez, getting pretty desperate for approval, aren't I? Tenko chastised himself. But All Might’s praise nearly always had that effect.

“Incidents like yesterday?” Endeavor asked skeptically.

“Well, yes… yesterday was unfortunate.” All Might admitted hastily, “And of course we would never want to distract you from your hero work. But the point is that yesterday’s… mishap wouldn’t have happened if Shimura-kun remained at UA, which proves that this is the best place for him at the moment!”

Tenko winced slightly at the unintentional accusation, even if he already knew yesterday’s events were entirely his own fault and he didn’t particularly regret them. Endeavor snorted in disdain. To Tenko's surprise, he turned to Aizawa. It was odd considering the man rarely paid any deference to those the thought beneath him.

“How do you know he’s really a different person?” Endeavor asked, gesturing angrily at Tenko, “He’s identical to Shigaraki, not to mention he seems to have an aggressive streak.”

“I’ll show you ‘aggressive.’” Tenko muttered under his breath against his better judgement. Endeavor didn’t seem to hear, so Tenko tossed an extra-vehement glare in the man’s direction for good measure.

“His identity and trustworthiness have been verified by Nedzu and a truth quirk.” Aizawa stated firmly. “He has proved to be no threat to the students here and he will remain under my supervision for the foreseeable future.” Endeavor looked incensed, but he had been shut down at every turn. Finally, he spoke again, though it wasn’t what Tenko expected,

“Fine, then.” The man relented, “Then while I’m here I’ll take the time to watch the class in order to make sure my son’s education isn’t being neglected in any other ways.”

Shoto had moved to stand with his classmates. He seemed to be determinedly not watching Endeavor.

“Fine. You can sit over on the bench.” Aizawa said, gesturing to the sidelines of the gym. “Shimura, you can do the same for the time being.” Tenko spared a moment of appreciation for how utterly exhausted the man looked before turning to sit on one end of the bench.

Endeavor sat on the opposite end of the long bench, stalwartly ignoring Tenko’s presence as he watched the students pair up for one on one sparring matches. The gym was large enough to accommodate five concurrent matches, and Shoto was in the first half of students to go. He was pitted against Uraraka. 

Tenko watched Shoto like a hawk so see how he was responding to Endeavor’s presence. He was good at ignoring the man. Almost perfect, if Tenko hadn’t spent years learning the kid’s tiniest tells. Shoto was hyper-aware that he was under supervision.

Even with the added distraction however, Shoto pulled off a near-flawless first match, and though Uraraka put up an excellent fight, he ultimately triumphed. Tenko didn’t stop keeping an eye on him even as he sat on the bleachers to await his next match.

His next match was a few minutes later, this time against Midoriya. The green haired kid bounded up to Shoto, looking excited. Shoto just huffed lightly and made his way over to their sparring area, but Tenko could practically see the soft smile he was hiding. They began, and Tenko was momentarily distracted from Shoto by watching Midoriya dart about with One For All. 

It was far from the first time that he had seen the kid use it at this point, but he was still so fascinated by how innately right the quirk looked on Midoriya. Perhaps not everyone would see it, considering that the kid didn’t physically resemble All Might at all, but it took barely any imagination for Tenko to see the new Symbol that he was sure the boy would become. It was in his determination, in his smile, in his contradicting mix of softness and strength; most obviously, it was in the bright, strong, un-corrupted quirk that ricocheted across his skin. What the hell could ever turn that kid villain? Tenko wondered for the millionth time.

The two students darted around each other’s attacks with a precision and intricacy that made it obvious they had sparred together a lot. Each knew the other so well that they both had to constantly innovate their strategy in order to gain the upper hand. Shoto darted forward with a spiked ice attack at the same time Midoriya tucked and rolled, coming up on Shoto’s left side. Shoto spun around at the abrupt change, placing him slightly off balance and forcing him to make a quick switch to using his fire.

Midoriya darted in a moment later, aiming a low kick at Shoto to throw him off balance. Shoto, as skilled as he was, should have been able to dodge, but his attention was divided between his movement and his fire. That spark of hesitation that Tenko had noticed before— just a slight bit of added difficulty in using his fire compared to his ice— did Shoto in. His feet moved too slowly and his retaliatory attack was weak. Shoto stumbled and fell. Midoriya wasted no time in knocking him out of the boundary, securing his victory for the match. 

There was movement in Tenko’s peripheral vision. Endeavor had stood up at Shoto’s defeat with a glower on his face. The man took one step in the direction of the match, opening his mouth to speak. 

“Shoto!”  The name, bellowed angrily, was all the man got out.

Tenko was on his feet within a fraction of a second. His hand closed tightly around the man’s wrist, pinky hovering barely a centimeter above the fabric of Endeavor’s hero costume. Tenko could feel One for All bubble to the surface, threatening to pour through him and paint his skin with its shadows.

Endeavor looked down at Tenko with surprise that quickly morphed into anger and was subsequently tinged with just a hint of fear as the man registered the threat. Tenko didn’t often care about his height, but in that moment he wished to be taller so that he could properly stare down this mountainous man. Still Tenko did what he could with the protectiveness that surged through his body.

“Don’t you dare.” He hissed “Don’t you even think about going near him.”

“Who do you think you are to order me around? What do you even mean?” Endeavor yelled at him with both fury and confusion. He didn’t try to pull away, however. At least he knows what’s good for him.

“I mean that you are not going to yell at him while I’m here.” Tenko continued in a low, furious tone, “Let All Might and Aizawa do their damn jobs, won't you? Kami knows they’re a damn sight better than you anyway.” Endeavor bristled at the slight,

“What gives you the right to say—” Tenko cut him off. He wasn’t going to listen to this man’s shit. 

“What gives me the right?” He scoffed, “Well, nothing really, but I know all your dirty little secrets, old man. I know everything you put them through and I know all about the burns you can never heal.” 

Tenko’s indignation continued to rise. He had held back for so long in his own world, knowing it was not truly his own fight, even if he wanted to dust the man for everything he had done to Tenko’s family. He had held back here, knowing that if it wasn’t his fight in his own world, it certainly wasn’t his fight in a world where Shoto didn’t even know him. But if it was what he had to do to keep that man away from Shoto, even if only temporarily, then, damnit all, Tenko was going to fight.

“What gives me the right?” Tenko repeated, feeling an expression somewhere between a glare and a mad grin slide onto his face, “I have to see the scars, and the nightmares, and the pain, and the tears that you have caused.” Tenko raised his free hand, counting each item on his fingers for emphasis. “The better question,” Tenko leant forward, growling up at Endeavor’s face, “is what gives you the right to be anywhere near that kid after everything you’ve done?”

Endeavor is silent for a moment. Actually, the entire gym is silent. Tenko can feel One for All, which escaped his control at some point, swirling on his skin leaving its faint false scars. The voices of Decay in his mind are momentarily unified into a single thrumming sensation of energy that urges Tenko to destroy, and it’s everything Tenko can do to not destroy the man on the spot.

He doesn’t think he could truly bring himself to regret it if he lost control. 

Still, there’s enough of his rational mind left to remind him that despite everything the bastard is right about one thing; at the end of the day it isn’t truly his right to decide Todoroki Enji’s fate.

“Don’t touch him.” The words come from halfway across the gym and Tenko can hear footsteps drawing closer. With a monumental effort Tenko tears his glare away from Endeavor and looks over to see Shoto.

There’s a complicated expression on the kid’s face. There’s anger there; confusion, fear and protectiveness all seem to be warring below the surface. Tenko prided himself on learning how to read Shoto, but he honestly has no clue what exactly the kid is thinking.

Tenko can see other members of the class staring at him and Endeavor. How much did they hear? Shit, was I shouting? It was a bit blurry, but Tenko’s own memory of his voice sounds loud in his ears.

“I said don’t touch him.” Shoto’s voice was angry and insistent, but it sounded painfully young to Tenko. It was stupid, logically since he barely had five years on the kid.

Tenko locked eyes with Todoroki, studying him. Every fiber of his being screamed at Tenko not to let go. Who knows what Endeavor might do? A large part of him just wanted to dust the man for good, or at least give him a sizable injury. 

You have no right.

That was the only thought that stayed Tenko’s hand. He and Shoto locked eyes for another long second. Finally, Tenko released Endeavor’s wrist, sliding his fingers across it as he withdrew his hands. For a fraction of a second Tenko let his pinky fall. It was so slight that only the fabric around his fingertips decayed, leaving nothing but small holes in the fabric and unblemished skin. Still, it functioned as a threat.

With the immediate confrontation over the classroom ground back into action. It was Aizawa who reacted first. 

“What the hell was that about?” The man yelled, hair floating around him as he stalked his way over. He seemed unsure as to whether his question was directed at Tenko or Endeavor. 

“Ask him.” Tenko said, gesturing fiercely to Endeavor. He really didn’t feel like being a cooperative problem-solver at the moment. Endeavor said nothing. Instead he simply glared at the small holes in his costume sleeve. After a moment Aizawa decided what to do.

“You need to leave, Endeavor-san,” he said firmly. Endeavor opened his mouth to argue, but Aizawa didn’t give him the opportunity. “Shimura-san will be dealt with but you are beyond my control. What I can control is my classroom and I am saying that you are an active disruption. Therefore, you need to leave.”

Endeavor still looked off put. Tenko took immense satisfaction in how he had rattled the man. He was so off put, in fact, that he turned and exited the gym without another word, walking in as commanding and dignified a manner as he could muster. 

“Sit. Down.” Aizawa gritted out to Tenko before turning to the rest of the class. “Resume your matches.” He instructed. With varying degrees of rapidity, the class got back to work. All except for Shoto, who was still burning a hole into Tenko’s soul with his eyes, and Midoriya, who was now partnerless.

“What was that about?” Aizawa repeated himself to Tenko. Tenko wasn’t sure how to respond. He couldn’t give a real explanation without revealing a lot to both Aizawa and Shoto. 

He had already revealed too much about Shoto’s life. As the anger subsided and One for All settled comfortably behind its usual dam Tenko felt a prickle of guilt. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to handle that, he reluctantly admitted to himself. 

“Nothing.” Tenko said unconvincingly, “I just got some wires crossed from my universe, that’s all. I forgot that things were different here.” That was partly true, but it still raised a host of questions that Tenko was sure Aizawa would ask at some point. For the moment, however, the man seemed content to get the class back on track. 

“Todoroki-kun, go sit down with Midoriya and the others to wait for your next match.” The man instructed. Shoto reluctantly complied.

Tenko made himself scarce for the rest of the lesson, watching the remaining matches as nonchalantly as he could. He knew what was coming at the end of the lesson, but he still felt just as unprepared when Shoto made his way across the gym, back in his normal uniform.

“We need to talk.” The kid’s tone was tight, and scarily cold. Tenko couldn’t refuse him, so he agreed.

“Alright,” was his only response, and he followed Shoto outside.

Chapter Text

Tenko was surprised that Aizawa let them go. He could feel the man’s eyes on them as they exited the gym and walked around the corner of the building. It was there that Shoto stopped abruptly and turned to face Tenko. They met each other's eyes.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Tenko could see frustration, fear, and hurt in Shoto’s eyes. Tenko didn’t speak, didn’t rush to explain. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how to begin. Shoto, for all his determination to talk to Tenko, seems almost equally uncertain of how to start the conversation. So, for several long moments there was nothing between them except a mountain of tension and dozens of unasked questions.

Finally, it was Shoto who broke the silence,

“What…” His initial tone of voice made him sound painfully young. Then, he steeled himself and began again, “What the hell was that about?” He practically grit out the words, then fell silent again waiting for Tenko to explain himself/

“I didn’t… I… I just got some data mixed up between this universe and mine.” Tenko instinctively deflected.

“Not good enough.” Shoto refused flatly. “You just— you just said all of those things in front of my entire class. You’ve been weird from the start but this is… everyone saw. I’m going to need an actual explanation.” Tenko knew that no amount of deflection would get him out of this conversation. He wasn’t even sure why he was trying; why he was afraid to have this conversation happen in the first place. Come on. It’s not like you can fuck things up a whole lot more. 

“Look, I… I know you and your siblings a lot better back in my world. And I know all about Endeavor and I just… Look, I know things are different here— that’s obvious. I know that Touya’s still off playing villain for whatever reason, so that probably means you still live with him and I just… I know it’s not my fight and I know you don’t know me, but in the heat of the moment I just didn’t want him to touch you.” Tenko paused after he finished forcing out the words, only to look at Shoto’s face. There was an expression of shock there— one so obvious that anyone could read it. Tenko pulled up short.

“What did you say?” Shoto demanded in a quiet, urgent tone. 

“That I didn’t want him to touch—”

“No. Not that.” Shoto cut him off, “Before that. About– about T–” Shoto seemed to struggle to say the name. He took in a breath, “About Touya. What did you mean that he’s ‘off playing villain?’ He’s not ‘off doing’ anything; he’s dead, Shimura!” Shoto’s voice cracked a little on his final words.

Tenko’s blood ran cold. Shit. Oh no. I really fucked up. He had assumed Shoto knew. He had forgotten that the entire Todoroki family had thought Touya was dead until he returned to them. Stupid. So fucking stupid. If he had stopped to think for just a minute, he might have realized what Touya not being in Shoto’s life might really mean. He might have realized that Touya, for whatever reason, probably never came back to his family if he was still the villain Dabi. If he had just thought for a moment. Hell, if he’d been smart enough to think at all before unleashing his rage on Endeavor, then he might have realized just how big a bombshell this might be for Shoto.

But he hadn’t realized. He had been stupid. More than that, he had been selfish. Typical, selfish Shimura Tenko who hurt everyone around him in the pursuit of his goals. Now Shoto was staring at him with a mix of anger, disbelief, and heartbreak and Tenko didn’t know how to fix it. Unsurprisingly, the Decay Hero isn’t so good at fixing things, his inner monologue supplied helpfully.

“He’s not.” The words came out sounding much more calm and firm than Tenko felt, “I-I didn’t realize that you didn’t know, but you should know. Touya isn’t dead; he’s the villain Dabi.” It was blunt, too blunt for most, but Tenko had learned that Shoto highly preferred direct communication. It was the least he could offer at this point.

Shoto’s expression was one of open shock and hurt. His emotions were bubbling over so forcefully that even the untrained eye could read him like a book in that moment. Shoto was searching Tenko’s eyes, trying to decipher any lie. His eyes grew wide as the information seemed to fully sink in.

“What? Then why didn’t—? Why…?” A slew of half-formed questions spilled from Shoto’s lips, his voice uncharacteristically raw with emotion. Then, halfway through another query, Shoto cut himself off and inhaled sharply.

It was impressive and devastating, how quickly his features slid back into a close approximation of his usual deadpan. Although Shoto could not magic away the wetness in his eyes, he was able to close down the rest of his visible emotion with a skill that no sixteen-year-old should have. That skill was a brutal reminder of a lot of things, but to Tenko specifically it was a reminder that in this universe, he was not someone Shoto could cry around.

“So I don’t live with Endeavor, back in your world” The delivery was deliberately flat. Shoto was back to practicality, back to searching for an explanation.

“No. Touya’s been your guardian since just after he turned nineteen”

“And where do you factor in? What makes you think any of this is your business?” 

“I live with you, too. Touya and I moved in together once we both graduated.”

“Why?” Genuine curiosity. Bless this kid and his lack of a grasp on subtext. It would have been funny, in any other circumstance.

“We’re dating; that and we both contracted with the same agency.” Tenko clarified.

“So you know about Endeavor? About everything he did?” Shoto asked, although the answer must have already been clear.

“Yeah.” Was Tenko’s lame response.

“And you thought that it would be a good idea to practically spill all of it in front of my entire class?”

“I didn’t—” Tenko’s instinctive defensiveness bubbled back up.

“Yes, you did!” Shoto’s voice rose heatedly for a moment, before he tempered his feelings into an icy anger, “You weren’t exactly subtle. They don’t know everything but they’re going to ask questions. Aizawa-sensei and All Might-sensei are going to ask questions.” Shoto’s teeth were grit as he finished speaking.

“Maybe they should know.” It slipped out from Tenko’s mouth before he could reconsider. Shoto’s eyes widened minutely for a moment, mouth opening slightly. Only for a moment, though, as Shoto’s eyes were quick to narrow once more. 

“That’s not your choice.” Tenko could feel the icy anger emanating from Shoto. “You don’t know me. You don’t know any of us here, and you don’t get to make decisions as though you do. We’re strangers, so stay out of my business.” Shoto turned to walk away, but not before tossing one last comment over his shoulder, “Quit trying to play hero; you aren’t one here.”

Shoto walked away hurriedly after that, leaving Tenko stunned in his wake. He was pretty sure he could see the kid’s shoulders begin to shake before he disappeared around the corner of a building.

He’s right. I fucked up so badly. Tenko had let all the frustration about how he could never help his Touya and Shoto as much as he wished get the better of him. For years, he’d barely spoken to Endeavor on the rare occasion that they were face to face, because he was sure if he’d started, he’d never be able to hold back his vitriol towards the man. He’d held back because he knew it wasn’t his place, because Touya didn’t want him to, because he’d been taught by his therapist that the best thing he could do was support Touya, rather than trying to avenge him. But knowing Shoto— who sometime, somehow, without Tenko realizing it, had become as good as a brother— didn’t have Touya here to rely on here, Tenko had forgotten all that. 

He had forgotten, he had fucked up, and maybe he had made things worse. Some shitty excuse for a hero I am. 

Aizawa emerged from the building, looking around for a moment before he spotted Tenko still standing by the side of the building, scratching habitually at his neck. He straightened up as the man approached, but couldn’t bring himself to stop scratching just yet.

Aizawa looked at Tenko with an eternally exhausted expression. 

“Come on.” Tenko obeyed and followed the man as they began their trek back to the dorms. “Explain.” Aizawa grunted after a moment of silence. Maybe Shoto’s confrontation had done one good thing, because this time the words came easily as he told Aizawa what had happened. Should I tell him about Shoto’s family? Tenko wondered briefly, suddenly reluctant to invade Shoto’s privacy even more. But he had already burned that bridge, and at this point Aizawa would probably dig until he found out anyway. So he told Aizawa everything. 

“And you didn’t think to mention a week ago that one of the two kids you take care of is my student?” Aizawa interrupted with exasperation at one point.

“I thought it would make things weird.” Technically, I was right. Aizawa, having just reached the steps up to the Heights Alliance entrance, stopped walking and turned to face Tenko. He rubbed at his eyes with one hand before fixing Tenko with an expression of supremely tired annoyance. He opened his mouth, probably to reprimand Tenko, before sighing.

“Honestly, this is what I get for still bringing you to class.” Aizawa, seeming to have reached a state of acceptance, turned and walked up the steps, leaving Tenko to follow.

Chapter Text

Touya leaned over to tug on the shiny, deep navy boots of his hero costume. It made prickles of hot pain emanate from the wound on his back. He knew he should have just bitten the bullet and asked Shoto to redo the staples, but he just kept putting it off, redoing the medical tape when necessary, not wanting to burden his brother. Now, given the heat Touya could feel the heat surrounding the wound, he knew it was becoming infected.

I can deal with that later, when I don’t have work to do. Touya straightened up and made his way out to the living room. 

“Alright, let’s go.” He said as he exited the hallway, only to do a double take as Shigaraki looked lazily up at him from where he was sitting on the couch. He was curled up tightly, knees nearly to his chest so that his feet could find purchase on the couch, dressed in Tenko’s utilitarian, jet black hero costume and playing with the Switch perched on his knees. Everything, down to Shigaraki’s lazy expression forced Touya to actively remind himself that this was not Tenko, even as all his senses insisted that it must be; it was just so familiar, walking into the room to see Tenko relaxing before or after patrol, curled up in that exact same position only to glance up as Touya approached.

The small details in Shigaraki’s face— lips that somehow seemed even more chapped than Tenko’s, hair that was slightly shorter and more unkempt, an agitation in his eyes that Touya suspected came from an unregulated quirk and equally out-of-check emotions— all contributed to a sense of unease in Touya’s gut. It was like experiencing the uncanny valley in real life.

“What are you staring at?” Shigaraki sneered, “Getting off to watching me play hero?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, you’re not exactly playing hero yet. Get off your ass. It’s time to go.” Shigaraki rolled his eyes and reluctantly stood. Before they left he threw on one of Tenko’s black hoodies, and a black medical mask. After all, it would be pretty inconvenient if he was immediately recognized as a hero. 

—

It had been several days since he and Shigaraki had first made the decision to hunt down Deku, but this was the first time Touya was taking Shigaraki out with him. Touya had started by attempting to track down Deku’s online presence, but most of what he could find was from months ago. The easiest thing to access were reports; three separate heroes in the span of four months had struggled far more than they should have with presumed low-threat villains. Two had lost, badly. One of those two had died on the way to the hospital. All three cases notably ended with the villains’ apprehension. When questioned, each one eventually admitted that they had gotten analysis from Deku to better take down their targets.

Still, that hadn’t made him any easier to find. Deku was a digital phantom, and it was nearly impossible to get in contact with him. That was, at least, until Shigaraki got a hold of things.

He was, apparently, very good at navigating forums and chatrooms, and one day, while Touya was out investigating some hideouts that the League of Villains apparently used in Shigaraki’s world, the bastard had managed to log into Touya’s computer. Apparently, he had memorized the password. Fucker. Touya had been restricting the bastard’s internet access for good reason; he didn’t trust Shigaraki, the self-proclaimed villain.

Fortunately Shigaraki seemed motivated to get home, which was probably the only thing that had kept him in line so far. So, instead of wreaking havoc with his newly granted digital access, Shigaraki mingled in forums, dropping hints about needing quirk analysis. Eventually, he managed to find some of Deku’s previous clients. 

And maybe it turned out that Shigaraki did indeed share some of Tenko’s penchant for investigation, because it turned out that Deku had a pattern. While he was best known for his hero and villain analyses, there were other ways to get his attention; the most reliable way was through interesting quirks. Add onto that a hint about useful information, and it was only a matter of time. 

It was yesterday that Shigaraki had received the message: a seemingly casual inquiry about the quirk Shigaraki was asking for advice about. Luckily, through his conversations with Deku’s previous clients, Shigaraki recognized one of the usernames that the analyst used. Taking a risk, he called Deku out. 

Touya, who had been watching over Shigaraki’s shoulder— after the asshole had finally told him what he was up to— felt a rush of disappointment as the indicator that Deku was viewing the conversation abruptly vanished. 

“You’re not getting away that easily, brat.” Shigaraki mumbled under his breath. He typed out another message:

    ‘Have you noticed some increased activity around your hideouts lately?

    I’ve got some info on who’s after you

    And why.’

It was another forward strategy, but it seemed too tempting for Deku to ignore. Less than five minutes later he was back in the conversation. He seemed to hesitate briefly before typing out a reply. Somehow, Shigaraki was able to finesse his way from there. Apparently, he had put all his ‘charisma stats’ into his online abilities, because Touya would never have guessed that the irritable gremlin he had for an unintentional houseguest could be so persuasive. I wonder if Tenko’s the same online. How the hell have I never noticed?

Regardless, it wasn’t long before Murayama Hotaka– the name of the persona Shigaraki had created– had arranged a meeting at the infrequently used Takoba beach to evaluate his particularly complex and troublesome mutation quirk. Touya had suggested the location because of how consistently ignored it was by everyone in the area, and definitely not because he knew it was one of Tenko’s favorite haunts for when his quirk became too much.

—

It felt surreal, making his way through the city with Shigaraki by his side. They traveled through back alleys and occasionally over rooftops to avoid the busier parts of town. Touya didn’t want anyone to get wind that they were on patrol, just in case Deku, or Mic and Aizawa, had suspicions about who exactly had been investigating them. Touya kept catching glimpses of Shigaraki out of the corner of his eye as they traversed, and more than once had to stop himself from doing a double take. It was surreal just how familiar his movements were: the way he landed on his right foot after a jump, taking exactly two steps to stop; the way he made himself invisible to the crowd by hunching his posture and relaxing his shoulders; the habitual hand to his neck during any pause in their journey. All of it made Touya’s heart ache. Come on, damnit, you’ve got to focus.

He fell back as they approached the beach, letting Shigaraki go on alone in case they were being surveilled. Still, he did his best to keep the man in sight. As Shigaraki climbed down the steps to the trash-filled beach, Touya approached and found a place in the shadow of a nearby building where he could just barely see Shigaraki, and hopefully wouldn’t be noticed by Deku until it was too late. Now, all they had to do was wait. 

They didn’t have to wait long. Touya barely noticed the small figure in a dark green hoodie, wearing a respirator-like mask, until he jumped the retaining wall down to the beach. He pulled out a phone and checked it, then settled back against the wall in an attempt at a casual stance. Shigaraki approached him, making his advance obvious while Touya began creeping up from behind.

“Murayama-san?” Deku questioned as Shigaraki drew closer. Already he sounded hesitant; a hoodie and a mask wasn’t doing much to conceal the fact that Shigaraki didn’t have a mutation quirk. Still, all they needed was a few more seconds of confusion. Shigaraki nodded,

“Deku, I’m guessing?” he drawled as he strolled closer. Deku gave a wary nod.

“From your message I thought that—” but that was all the time that Touya needed. He copied Deku, jumping up and over the retaining wall and landing just behind where the young villain was standing. Deku whirled around, one hand flying to his side, where Touya spotted some sort of holstered weapon, and the other flying towards his hoodie pocket. He was quick, but caught off guard and Tenko had always been almost inhumanly fast; apparently Shigaraki also had that skill. He lunged forward, wrapping one hand around the arm Deku was using to reach for his pocket and the other around his neck.

“Don’t move!” Shigaraki growled, pinkies a hairs breadth away from Deku’s skin. “You call Kuroguiri, and you’ll be dead long before he gets here.” Deku’s eyes were wide and terrified, his expression easily readable despite the mask.

“What? Do you mean your quirk? How do you even know about Kuro—? Who are you? What do you want? ” Questions began pouring from Deku’s mouth. His voice sounded higher, younger all of the sudden. 

Touya approached, hero costume on full display. For good measure he lit a flame on his pointer finger.

“Azure.” Deku breathed in recognition, going suddenly limp in Shigaraki’s arms.

“Heh. Yup.” Touya grinned. We’re gonna pull this off. Let’s just hope he actually knows something. He reached out, bringing his hand up underneath Deku’s chin and extinguishing the flame on his finger just before it would make contact with the skin. He then used his pointer finger to tilt Deku’s chin upward slightly to face him. He let his grin stretch wide, feeling his scars stretch; intimidation was an advantage right now. “And you’re the infamous Deku. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“What do you want?” The kid sounded angry, but his voice quivered slightly. “If you’re just here to arrest me then get on with it.” Touya swayed his head from side to side with an overdone thinking expression on his face.

“Well,” He drawled after several seconds, “arrest doesn’t have to be part of the equation today. That is if you are willing to sit down and help me out.” Deku stared at him for a moment, and Touya could practically see the effort it took for him to narrow his eyes.

“Fine. But I can’t exactly move with you strangling me.” Midoriya directed the last part at Shigaraki, who rolled his eyes behind Midoriya’s back. Touya considered the situation for a moment.

“Sit him against the wall. Keep your hand on his wrist but take the other one off his damn neck. It’s tough not to draw attention if it looks like we’re choking out a veritable child.” He instructed. Shigaraki huffed, but, thankfully, complied. 

“Child!” Deku squawked indignantly, as Shigaraki roughly directed him over to the wall. Midoriya turned to get a look at Shigaraki once his neck was freed. His green eyes flitted over Shigaraki’s masked face and hoodie.

“Dust?” He guessed a moment later. 

“Not quite, unfortunately.” Touya responded before Shigaraki could get a word in. Shigaraki gave another annoyed eye roll— he was probably pulling a face at Touya, but it was hard to tell with the mask.

“Oh. I guess— I know you and Dust work together and you’re both contracted at The Midnight Agency and he fits the description so I assumed… Who, then? I’m guessing another hero because, well, you’re a hero, but if it’s not Dust I don’t recognize them and that’s like, really, really unusual for me and…”

Touya raised an eyebrow. Here’s to hoping this means it will be easy to get him to share information. He really hadn’t expected Deku to be so talkative.

“Kid!” Shigaraki barked, and Deku’s attention snapped to him, mouth clicking shut, “Shut the hell up sometime and maybe you’ll get some answers.” Touya could see the kid hunch in on himself slightly, and he felt a pang of sympathy before reminding himself that Deku was, in fact, a wanted villain who was more than likely one of All for One’s lackeys. He elected to ignore the situation, simply sitting down across from Deku and Shigaraki. 

“Who he is is why I’m here.” Touya began, jerking his head in Shigaraki’s direction. “Deku, meet Shigaraki.” Shigaraki gave a sarcastic flourish of his free hand. Deku tilted his head in confusion. 

“Shigaraki? But I thought he changed back to his birth name after you guys… uh… left… Sensei.” Oh, man, how I hate hearing another kid calling him that. Still it was useful information; Deku knew at least some of Tenko and Touya’s story. That confirmed he had relatively close contact with All for One. Shigaraki snorted,

“Yeah, that pushover fuckin’ did, but I didn’t. I never left Sensei, I kept my goal to destroy— my purpose— instead of selling out to the heroes.” There was more venom in Shigaraki’s words than Touya had expected. Maybe that partially explains his fuckin’ attitude. I swear even kid Tenko wasn’t as annoying. Deku’s eyebrows furrowed further.

“What the idiot is trying to say,” Touya interjected, ignoring Shigaraki’s poisonous glare, “is that he’s not from this world. He’s Ten– Shimura from another dimension.” Deku’s eyes widened, he leaned towards Touya slightly. Oh, have your attention now, do I? I guess you’ve made it pretty clear you like interesting quirks. Touya let himself smirk, letting Deku know that he knew exactly how to grab the kid’s attention.

“You think it’s a quirk.” It was more a statement of barely-contained excitement than a question. God, he’s so young. Definitely a teenager, and well below eighteen now that Touya was looking at him.

“I spawned in here on a Wednesday morning with zero warning.” Shigaraki said testily, “That doesn’t exactly read as a ‘natural occurrence.’”

“And it hasn’t shown any signs of wearing off? A quirk like that would almost certainly have a time limit– probably less than a day, but no, it’s been more than that already. Its existence in the first place is unheard of, and for it to last this long— it’s virtually impossible. There is no known quirk that’s even really that close to what this is.” Deku seemed to be increasingly speaking more to himself than to either Shigaraki or Touya, his ramblings picking up speed. 

“Good, so we’re on the same page.” Touya interjected, drawing the kid’s attention back to them. “No natural quirk could have done this— that’s where you come in.” Deku stiffened. “Shigaraki and I both know about the doctor and his experiments. He was up to some fishy stuff in Shigaraki’s world, but we have no idea what. What we do know is that he has a history of combing quirks in the nomu. We also know you’ve been spotted with the nomu. Given your penchant for quirk analysis, I’m guessing you know something.” Deku shook his head frantically,

“I don’t know anything about a quirk that could do that. I know for a fact that Dr. Tsubasa doesn’t have a nomu that could do anything like this.”

“So you do know what he’s up to then. You work closely with him, don’t you Deku?” This kid has absolutely no poker face. Deku’s silence was as good a response as they needed. We were right. He let the silence hang in the air for a moment before continuing.

“That’s what I thought. What exactly do you do?”

“Why should I tell you?” Deku managed to muster up some of his falsified defiance.

“Because I could dust you within a second, dipshit.” Shigaraki supplied.

“And because I promise this is a better interrogation than you’ll get with the police.” Touya added. Deku’s free hand was fidgeting relentlessly. “Answer the question.” Touya pressed.

“I– I do quirk research and reconnaissance mostly. Searching for quirks and analyzing them— that sort of thing.”

“Mostly? What else do you do?” It was Shigaraki who pressed this time. Deku’s eyes were aimed at the ground now, flitting from point to point.

“I sometimes assist Dr. Tsubasa with his– his procedures.” He admitted more quietly. Bingo.

They were almost there— Deku was definitely their best shot— but in order to get him to do what they needed, they had to have more than the threat of immediate death via Decay; that wouldn’t hold out once they let Deku go. 

“Shigaraki. His mask.” Touya ordered suddenly. Quick as a flash Shigaraki’s free hand whipped up and closed around Deku’s mask. Within seconds, it was nothing but ash, leaving Deku wide-eyed and letting out a belated gasp of surprise. For good measure, Shigaraki yanked back the kid’s hood as well.

Touya took in the kid’s face. He had round cheeks that hadn’t yet lost all their baby fat and freckles. Coupled with his newly exposed curly green hair and those wide, round eyes, he looked far too innocent to be a wanted villain. The fear on his face was unmistakable, even as he visibly tried to make his expression neutral. There was something else, too.

It was dawning on Touya as he took in the details of the kid’s face. His mind was reaching, searching back to something he had seen before, something he had seen recently. 

Because Deku’s face was impossibly familiar. Impossible, that is, because it was the face of a dead child. Touya had seen that face in one of the files in Tenko’s desk. It was a thin one, marked with a ‘case closed’ indicator and written off as just another of the all too common quirkless suicides. What was his name? What was his name?

That’s it.

“Midoriya Izuku?” Touya couldn’t keep the shock and question out of his tone. All Deku– Midoriya’s attempts to mask his feelings were obliterated as his expression transformed into pure, unadulterated shock.

“How do you know that name?” His voice quivered. 

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Touya said instead of responding.

“He is?” Shigaraki interjected, confused. Touya nodded.

“There was a file in Tenko’s desk, a file on him,” Touya gestured at Midoriya, “and it said he committed suicide.” Midoriya winced slightly. Touya couldn’t quite suppress a pang of sympathy.

“Huh.” Shigaraki sounded remarkably unconcerned, “You definitely didn’t show me that file; I could have confirmed that they were the same character.” Touya resisted the inappropriate urge to facepalm. Instead, he turned to Midoriya,

“Kid, why?” And maybe he sounded a bit too sympathetic, but hell, this kid is the same age as Shoto.

“It’s a long story.” Midoriya said, voice more controlled than a moment earlier. “And I don’t see why it matters to this, or why I should tell it to you.” A spark of defiance had re-entered his eyes.

“It could matter, given the offer I’m about to make you.” 

“That sounds like you planned out the deal already. Tell me what you're asking for first, then I’ll decide if my story matters.” Midoriya managed to pull back the tiniest bit of bargaining power. However inexperienced he might be with interrogations, he wasn’t stupid. Touya weighed his options.

“Fine.” He relented. “Midoriya, you’ve gained a lot of notoriety recently. Your analysis has been used to take down major heroes, and you’ve directly linked yourself to one of the most dangerous villains of all time. If you get caught the old fashioned way, you aren’t going to like the results, kid.” Touya paused to let the implications speak for themselves. Midoriya was smart; surely he knew this.

“But you’re also young. You take crazy risks by meeting in person with clients you can’t verify the identity of. And sure, I’m guessing Kuroguiri is the only reason you’re able to justify that risk, but it’s still a risk, and that made me wonder, kid, if part of you actually wanted to be found.” Touya was ad-libbing slightly based on his new realization of the kid’s identity, but thankfully the evidence seemed to actually support what was previously only a vague hope that this offer could strike the right nerve.

He certainly had Midoriya’s attention, if that intense stare was anything to go by.

“I was like you, you know; a budding villain at sixteen… and I got caught.” Something in Midoriya’s face twitched. “But there were people— heroes— who gave me a way out. What I’m offering, kid, is to do the same for you.” Touya took a deep breath, preparing for his final ultimatum, “If you use Ujiko’s– Tsubasa’s– whatever you call him… if you use his resources to get him” Touya indicated Shigaraki, “back where he came from and bring Tenko home, then I swear, kid I will help get you out of this mess.”

It wasn’t necessarily heroic to hold the kid’s future as collateral, but Touya had always had a selfish streak. He would always be ready to burn the world to accomplish what he needed to.

Midoriya’s whole body was visibly tense. Interestingly, Shigaraki seemed almost equally so.

“You want me to synthesize a quirk that can travel between realities.” Midoriya confirmed. Touya simply nodded. “What if I can’t?” He’s already on board. I guessed right about the deal. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t something Midoriya could easily walk away from.

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” Touya said flippantly, “Kid, I’ve seen secondhand what you can do with analysis alone. You somehow got that batshit crazy doctor to take you as an apprentice or something— believe me, neither Tenko or I were ever close to that. It doesn’t take a brain like yours to realize that you’re something special. You might be the only person who can do this, save for the doctor or All for One himself.” 

Midoriya considered that for several long moments. There was a sea of unidentifiable emotions swirling in his eyes, but a spark of something that Touya reasoned must be hope, won out.

“Fine. I’ll try.” Holy shit. This is actually going to work. Touya felt his own hope flood his chest. Finally, finally, he actually had a solid lead to getting Tenko back. He tried to contain the emotion; he desperately needed to avoid giving Midoriya any bargaining power.

“Alright.” Touya said steadily. He pulled out a small notepad and wrote down one of his many email addresses. This particular one wasn’t tied to his public hero identity. “You are going to send me an email every day with your progress, and you’re gonna start telling me your story. If you betray me at any time just remember that I know your name and I can break your case as easily as I could save it.”

Midoriya gave a small nod, the scrap of notepad paper clenched tightly in his fist. 

“Shigaraki, let him go.” Shigaraki’s eyes snapped up, as though he was refocusing on the conversation. A moment later, he released Midoriya’s wrist. “Alright.” Touya said, standing and dusting off some dirt. “Talk to you soon, Midoriya.”

It felt distressingly anticlimactic to just walk away, but there was nothing left to do but hope his hairbrained plan actually worked.

—

“You’re fuckin’ quiet.” Touya observed as he and Shigaraki drew nearer to Midnight’s agency. “Please, tell me what I can do to make that happen more.” Their back-and-forth was more barbed than what Touya had with Tenko, but he was surprised how quickly he and Shigaraki had developed a rhythm. He expected for Shigaraki to hurl a clever retort or less clever insult, but instead,

“Did you actually mean that crap you told the kid?”

“Which bit?” Touya questioned.

“About helping him, even though he’s already a villain. Do you actually buy into that hero shit, about how everyone can be saved?” Shigaraki said it grumpily— as he said most things— but it was an interesting question to hear from him. He was scratching at his neck somewhat fiercely. Touya barked out a laugh,

“Fuck no! There are tons of scumbags who can’t, and shouldn’t, be saved. I was fuckin’ raised by one of them. Believe me, I know that some people are just too far gone. People gotta lie in their bed, and all that. But I’m not a liar. I meant it when I said I’d help the kid. I guess I do believe that kids deserve someone to save them.”

“Hmph,” was Shigaraki’s only answer. Touya, for once, let it slide.

—

It was nearing dinner time when they made it back to the apartment. Shigaraki was quick to disappear into the master bedroom. That was fine with Touya, he could certainly use some space.

He began cooking dinner, playing music through the speaker system he had haphazardly created years ago. He had a few blissful moments of alone time, pouring all his focus into the task at hand, when suddenly he turned to reach for the spice cabinet and found Himiko about five centimeters away from his face.

“Shit!” Touya cursed in surprise, instinctively flinching backwards, “What the hell, Himiko?”

“Sorry!” Himiko said, not sounding particularly remorseful, “It’s just, you smell weird.” She wrinkled her nose delicately, “It’s a bad smell.”

“Gee, thanks.” Touya deadpanned, “If it’s that bad I can go take a shower and you can finish cooking dinner.”

“No, silly! It’s not sweat-smell. That’s normal bad. This is a weird bad.” Touya swore he could feel the exhaustion of the day hit him all at once as weariness spread through his bones.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, kid.” He sighed.

“It’s sour, oh, and kinda hot— like temperature-wise, I mean,” Touya briefly considered how something could smell warm, then decided he didn’t want to know. “It's, uh, well it’s like the smell a cut has when it’s getting infected.” Oh, I see. That’s a pretty damn indirect way of telling me that she can smell I’m injured. He should have known that sooner or later something would force him to properly address his torn out staples. Still, he fought it.

“It’s not a big deal.” He defended.

“Then why haven’t you fixed it?” Himiko asked, eyes purposefully widened to portray innocence. 

“I’ve been a little busy, if you hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t exactly at the top of the priority list. Trust me, it’s not that bad.” He could see from a mile away that Himiko wasn’t buying that. 

“I can help, though!” She insisted, “I’ve been learning all about taking care of cuts and stuff recently— they’re very pretty, but not when they get all infected. It’s much better when the blood is all red and healthy! Anyway, I’m sure I could do a good job.” Himiko sounded genuinely eager. It gave Touya pause. He’d been putting off asking Shouto to do it, knowing that his brother didn’t necessarily like being reminded of Touya’s pain. He’d never truly considered asking Himiko, given that their bond was still in the early stages, but maybe…

“Fine.” Touya decided after a moment. Himiko lit up. 

“Alright! Come on— there’s medical supplies in both bathrooms, right?” She chirped, already skipping in that direction. She was nearly down the hall when Touya called after her, telling her where she could find the surgical staple gun.

Mere minutes later he was sitting sideways on a chair, shirt off and back to Himiko, who was eagerly tending to his wound. Touya’s face pinched slightly at the sting of the antiseptic, but he otherwise remained perfectly still. Himiko genuinely appeared to know what she was doing as she confidently fished out the correct ointment to apply to the seam of his skin. He had to quickly walk her through the application of surgical staples, but, somewhat to his horror, she had seemed nothing but delighted the whole way through.

Touya had to admit as he carefully put his shirt back on that this was probably the best it could have gone. Himiko returned after putting the medical supplies away and insisted on helping with dinner. It turned out that although her aptitude with knives made her exceptional at cutting vegetables, the rest of her cooking talent was completely nonexistent. 

“I swear to god you’re going to burn down the kitchen, kid.” Touya said as he waved a hand over whatever the hell was burning in the pan. “How is it possible that out of the two of us, you’re the bigger fire risk?” 

“Sorry! Sorry!” Himiko said as she turned off the burner, but her apology was lessened by her uncontrollable giggling. 

Touya felt lighter as he called Shoto for dinner (Shigaraki never joined) and sat at the table with the two of them. Despite all the hardships that accompanied the two traumatized teenagers, Touya truly couldn’t imagine trading them for anything. It truly was a weird little family and hopefully he had just taken the first few steps to getting their missing member back.