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At first, it’s something quiet, and small, and unassuming. A few simple notes in a gentle breeze, echoing across a vast nothingness. It’s calming, though lonely. Something that’s been there since the very beginning, even as it fades to rest.
It fits.
Izuku knows that he can't keep One for All a secret forever. The day of reckoning is coming. It's an inevitability that's fast approaching, and will probably cause literally all of the issues.
All of them.
He’s especially concerned over the reaction of his homeroom teacher. Aizawa is smart, strict, and more intuitive than people ever seemed to give him credit for.
Aizawa also cares. And ok, yeah, it might have taken Izuku longer than it should have to come to this realization, but honestly, he blames all the shitty teachers that came before for his general lack of faith and tendency to distrust. A lifetime of taunts, scoldings and neglect will do that to just about anyone.
‘It was wrong.’ They say, small whispers that sound like bells inside his head. ‘You never deserved it, Izu-Mido-Kiddo-Nine-’ And the reassurance is comforting, even if he still can’t force himself to believe them. They feel so warm-loving-regretful-angry. It’s familiar. It fits.
So, the reveal. It’s going to happen eventually. He’s considered ripping the band-aid off himself on more than one occasion, but while All Might claims it's his secret to hold and his secret to share, he gets that look. It's a look that reminds Izuku of just how dangerous the knowledge can be. It's a look that doesn't fit on All Might's face—one that's guarded, and maybe just a little bit fearful. It's a look that never fails to discourage Izuku away from the idea of telling, each and every time, and while he isn't truly afraid of many things, disappointing his mentor and endangering the people he cares for—endangering anyone, for that matter—are both things that will always terrify him.
So he stays silent and remains a coward. Feeds into the lies and deflections. Dodges any and every attempt at an explanation, which is easier than one would think, considering how little he still knows about his own quirk.
Their quirk. He refuses to ignore them: the vestiges, the spirits, because while they seem to think they are merely fragments of the people they used to be, they are still there. And even though they’ve all sacrificed everything they had, lost everything that mattered, they are not bitter. Not with him. They come to him when he sleeps. Speak with him. Encourage him. Protect him. They pull him from the precipice in his own mind, and help sooth his soul when he’s teetering on the edge. They are with him always now, and he thinks they always will be, as long as he’s alive, and as long as he has One for All. They believe in him, seem to understand him in a way that no one else does, and they give him more respect than he probably deserves… so he’ll return it tenfold.
(Even if sometimes the excess noise and feelings get a little… overwhelming.)
He’s got a ton of theories on how it may happen. Maybe a violent new quirk manifestation right in the middle of class, or a villain with an impulsive truth quirk will force him from his secrecy. Perhaps he’ll just screw up in a fight so badly he’ll break himself in some irreparable way that will finally force Aizawa to corner him and demand answers. He’s known the man for just over two years now, and he wonders why it hasn’t happened yet.
There’s always the chance he might die, and for the secret to come out postmortem, somehow. He hates the idea of that, but…it’s in the job description, right?
‘No.’ A voice inside his head resounds at that, and he’s not sure which one. There’s a surge of something that accompanies the voice, a melodic sort of chime that sounds like anger-sorrow-fear-regret. It's familiar. It fits.
There are a hundred possibilities running laps in his brain, each one vying for first place. The only thing he knows for sure, is that it is going to happen, and he feels both a sense of utter relief—because finally—and unadulterated fear at the idea of it.
Things will change when it happens, and he’s incredibly unsure if it will be to be a good thing, or a bad thing. Either way, he feels the stress pulling at his very core, and he can’t help but feel like he needs a break from it all, needs to be able to let it go, tell someone, no matter the consequences.
Though he never once actually thought it could be Present Mic who would accidentally drag it all into the open.
The beat stays steady, an eerie thrumming that means nothing on its own, but promises something more. Something achingly familiar. It has not been there since the beginning, but nearly just.
Nonsensical and unending, it belongs there in the void, not quite alone, but might as well be. It fits.
To say that Hizashi is surprised is an understatement. He’d thrown out the internship offer to Midoriya for a handful of different reasons, but would have placed any amount of money on the odds of it not being accepted.
Midoriya can definitely stand to learn more about the never-ending media presence of being a limelight hero, given his not-so-subtle resolve to be some type of symbol of his own. Hizashi also sees him as a kid that has so much spirit and gumption it practically oozes from his pores, but has no idea how to harness and use it to his advantage, and learning to build a persona he could separate from his every day self was important.
Hizashi doesn’t like to brag or anything, but he likes to think he knows a thing or two about building a likable hero persona.
And most importantly of all? Shouta asked him to make the offer.
Hizashi knows why, of course. He might not be anywhere near the top ten in the hero rankings, but he is powerful, and popular, and he knows how to deal with both of those things without hurting himself in the process. Shouta feels like they’d be good things for Midoriya to learn, and being an underground hero himself, knows he isn’t the most adept at teaching them.
There is also the fact that Shouta is absolutely terrified for Midoriya’s future, even if he’s never said it in so many words.
On the surface the kid is lively and cheerful. He is intelligent. He’s got an undeniable aura about him that draws people into his orbit like wayward planets circling the brightest of stars, even though he seems to be pretty oblivious to the fact.
He’s also awkward, even now. Hizashi would almost say he seems like a sheltered kid belonging to a helicopter parent, but something about that is just… off. Like it’s true, but not for the reasons one might expect. He’s gotten more sociable, and has certainly opened up more as time goes on, but Hizashi will never forget the shy, anxious stuttering and complete lack of self-confidence that defined Midoriya’s first year.
Then they have to consider his self-destructive tendencies, not all of which can be attributed to his obscenely powerful quirk. While he’s been more relaxed recently, there is still a desperate edge to everything he does, an utter need to always be relevant and helpful, all while struggling to keep everyone—especially his teachers—at arm’s length. It makes it hard to see the deep-seated sadness he buries behind a wall of sunshine bright smiles and encouragement. He’s exceptionally good at deflection and misdirection, and has almost no sense of self-worth, which is probably the most heartbreaking thing of all.
So when Shouta had asked, Hizashi had agreed without hesitation. It isn’t like he had any reason to say no, since he likes the kid too! And he can certainly relate to having a dangerous, damaging quirk that was a bitch and a half to control.
Anyway, the point is that he never expected the kid to accept, and he’s glad he never made that bet, even if it still would have been a happy loss in the end. He’s got a feeling Shouta is just as shocked, considering this was an extended length internship, and Midoriya has yet to intern with a hero outside of Yagi’s inner circle.
His husband has been desperate to pull Midoriya free of that circle for a while now, even if just a bit. This feels like a victory of some small sort, and Hizashi is looking forward to celebrating it.
After some time, the void fills to the brim with a myriad of separate sounds, some soft and slow, while others are loud and oppressive. They dance around one another, vastly different in their goals and impressions, a jumbled mess that implies chaos and unrest.
But somehow, they all still seem to belong, and at least it doesn’t seem quite so empty anymore. They're familiar. They fit.
Of course, All Might asks him why.
And Izuku passionately explains that Present Mic is an amazing hero in extremely good standing with the public. He’s always had an active media presence, is flashy and popular without lacking substance, and is known in the hero community as someone who's always incredibly friendly and easy to work with.
Villains often underestimate him, because of his flamboyant personality, but, as Aizawa would say, it’s all a great big logical ruse. Present Mic is clever. He’s both academically intelligent, and street smart. He’s fluent in English, well versed in quirk and hero law, has three high stress jobs, and seems to find happiness in all of them. He probably has a ton of experience and insight that Izuku can take advantage of, and even though Izuku is surprised that the internship offer made its way to him, he never even considered turning it down.
All Might sits and quietly considers, and eventually concedes that, yes, it probably is a very good opportunity, and he can see it being a pretty good fit. He never really objected, but was only surprised by Izuku’s choice, since Present Mic has always been very outgoing and overbearing, two things he never would have thought Izuku would be interested in. The voice hero also doesn’t rank exceptionally high in the hero rankings, and Izuku has received several offers from others who do.
And if Izuku had still been fifteen years old and in his first year, All Might would probably have been right. Present Mic is intimidating in his own way, and not exactly the style of Hero Izuku would have been comfortable with back then.
But… there are other reasons he’s been considering Present Mic. Ones he wants to keep to himself, because he never wants to disappoint All Might.
The ghosts in his head all clamber to tell him that could never happen, but they seem to understand his reservations, and he appreciates them all the more for it. Sometimes he can’t make out the exact words they say, but he doesn’t have to, not when he can make out the gentle humming that stirs something in his soul, and feels like love-support-hope-concern. It's familiar. It fits.
And for a long, long time, there seems to be no order to the noise, outside of the familiarity.
Hizashi will never forget the gobsmacked look on Midoriya’s face when he’d accidently walked in on a rare moment of light PDA between him and Shouta. Hizashi had told the kid to meet him in the kitchen of the teacher’s dorms one night, so that they could take off on an evening patrol together. It just so happened Hizashi had forgotten to mention it to Shouta, and Midoriya had arrived ten minutes early: just in time to see his pajama clad husband, with a cat—Bento, to be precise—in one arm, wrap his other around Hizashi’s waist from behind, and kiss his shoulder.
The small, shocked gasp from Midoriya had Shouta jumping back and dropping Bento like he’d been burned, whirling around with wide eyes and raising hair, and a slight flush to his cheeks that Hizashi found hilarious.
Shouta had grit out a strained, “Not a word of this to anyone, Problem child.” And beat a quick retreat as Midoriya’s head bobbed up and down so fast Hizashi thought he might snap his own neck.
It was a few hours into their patrol before the kid’s curiosity got the better of him, and when he finally gathered the courage to ask about it, Hizashi couldn’t help the bark of quirk enhanced laughter he’d let loose.
Anyway, he’s a good kid, and seems to understand the importance of secrecy on a deeply personal level of some sorts—which is actually a little bit concerning—and he seems to be enjoying the internship so far. The past few days have passed without incident, Midoirya has yet to seriously hurt or maim himself, and he’s genuinely interested in every aspect of Hizashi’s hero work. He’s a good intern, and is going to make a great hero one day.
Though… there's definitely something stressing the kid out, and Hizashi is determined to figure out exactly what it is. He sometimes catches Midoriya in the corner of his eye looking at the world with an disturbingly empty expression, fingers twitching and mouth moving like he wants to say something important, but then he just stops himself at the last moment and plants a wide, convincingly sincere smile on his face, asking Hizashi to repeat himself or answer something completely benign.
So tonight, Hizashi plans to change things up a bit. Midoriya hasn’t been to the studio yet, and while it isn’t exactly heroics related, it is another facet of Hizashi’s lesson on private life and public personas. Plus, Midoriya had admitted on the first day of the internship that he's been a longtime fan of ‘Put Your Hands Up Radio.’
‘Mom and I used to listen every Tuesday and Friday while I was growing up. She thought you had a nice voice, and your show always distracted me enough to give her a bit of a break.’
Which is cute.
‘You also just… you always seemed really kind when I- when people called in with questions. Like, you gave all of them their fair share of time. You didn’t have to, but you did. That meant a lot… to them, I mean, I’m sure it meant a lot to them.’
Which is decidedly less cute, even if it does make Hizashi feel pretty good about himself.
So maybe he just needs to go about this a different way, if he wants to get the kid to relax and open up a bit. Tonight’s going to be a guest segment with an old friend of Hizashi’s. The man isn’t a hero, or anything even remotely related, but he is sometimes commissioned by heroes, and has the most amazing quirk. With Midoriya’s well documented obsession with all things quirk related, it was sure to be hit.
Time continues to pass, even as the sounds have no concept of time. They echo and screech and clang, like drums and strings and bells. They grow and fade, and still, a few more join. What was once quiet and still, is now deafening and erratic. It’s still a bit lonely, but at least they’re lonely together.
They are familiar. They fit.
“Wow…” Izuku must have said it at least ten times by now, but he can’t help it. He finds everything so fascinating. Present Mic laughs a little at him, but it doesn’t seem mean or vindictive, just amused, so he isn’t very discouraged by it.
The station is bigger than he expected, though maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, considering Present Mic uses the same building to house his modestly sized hero agency. Interns—the radio kind, not the hero kind—scramble to and fro, papers and coffee cups and tablets being flung this way and that, shuffled between hands in a sort of commotion they all seem chaotically comfortable with.
It’s a Friday night, which Izuku knows is guest segment night. He’s a bit surprised Present Mic invited him to tag along, but he wouldn’t miss it for the world. He wonders who the guest will be.
Usually it’s another hero, but not always. Sometimes it’s people who work in the industry in other ways. Sometimes it’s people who don’t work with heroes at all, but have something to do with music.
Regardless, he’s excited about it.
“Sho’s gonna bring us some food in a bit,” Present Mic says, as he simultaneously types out a text on his phone and herds Izuku towards an elevator. A frazzled looking woman with a too large briefcase hastily dodges around them as they enter and she exits, though she doesn’t seem put out or upset if the smile on her face is anything to go by.
Once the doors close and the noise dies down to just the tapping of Present Mic’s fingers, and the faint, jazzy tune drifting from the elevator's speakers, Izuku questions, “Who’s uh… Sho?”
Present Mic freezes for a moment, eyes widening slightly before he huffs out a laugh and turns his gaze towards Izuku, “Sorry little listener, I wasn’t even thinking. Sho is Shouta. Aizawa.”
“Oh.” And yeah, that’s a thing he still hasn’t gotten used to. Apparently, Aizawa and Present Mic are married, and he really would have never guessed had he not walked in on them... er being affectionate earlier in the week.
It’s not like Izuku thinks it’s a bad thing, by any stretch. He actually thinks it’s pretty nice. He just never thought about any of his teachers, least of all Aizawa, being so… domestic. Which is admittedly pretty dumb, really, but they always seemed so busy teaching and heroing and saving the world.
Does All Might do things like that? He tries to imagine it, and the images it brings to mind are just… surreal.
All Might having a lazy Sunday in pink sweatpants and bunny slippers, cooking at the stove. Lounging about on the couch. Cuddling cats.
Nah. All Might had to be a dog person.
‘Oh my god, kid.’ One of his head-ghosts whispers exasperatedly, and he fights back against the flush he knows must be overtaking his cheeks. It feels a little like happy-amusement-longing-loss. It’s familiar. It fits.
‘Shut. Up.’ He mentally hisses, willing the sentiment to reach them. He’s not always sure it does, but makes the effort anyway.
It takes him a few extra second to realize Present Mic is talking again, but thankfully it looks like the hero hasn’t noticed Izuku zoning out, “There’s this really good ramen place just up the street, and it’s a bit of a tradition for Shouta to bring it for us when I have a guest on that we’ve known for a while. Do you have a preference, listener?”
Izuku’s brain catches up, and he stutters out, “Oh, uh, you don’t have to… Aizawa doesn’t have to-”
Present Mic raises a brow at him and looks over the rim of his glasses, “I mean, it is my responsibility to feed you, since you’re taking your internship with me you know. If my agency were any further away from the school, we’d be staying here instead of the dorms too.”
“This is different though?” Izuku doesn’t mean to phrase it like a question, it just comes out that way, “I-I mean, like… This isn’t training to be a hero. We’re at your radio station.”
Present Mic’s phone buzzes again, and he quickly reads the message before peaking over the rims of his glasses, “Shouta wants to know what you want.”
“But-”
“Besides, this is just as an important part of being a hero as anything else.”
“What?”
“Or, rather, it’s related anyway. I’ve talked to you a bit about your persona right? Well, this is all a part of that!”
“You… only do your show as part of your image?” Izuku doesn’t think that sounds right, thinks he’s come to know Present Mic better than that, but the idea of it alone stirs up a cloud of icy disappointment from somewhere deep inside.
“No! Of course not!” Present Mic corrects, slightly tilting his head to catch Izuku’s eyes with his own as he puts a solid, warm hand on Izuku’s shoulder, “I love being a radio personality, just as much as I love being a hero. Music, broadcasting and entertaining are major passions of mine. I used all of those passions to mold my persona into something that is uniquely me, but they’re also something that I can use to separate Present Mic from Hizashi Yamada.” He points to his own temple, “Up here. My show is something I would still always want to do, even if I had never become a hero. It’s something the public thinks relates to my hero persona… but to me, it’s something beyond that.”
“I don’t really get it.” Izuku admits quietly. And it’s the truth.
“I’m saying it’s ok to step back and enjoy things for yourself, regardless of how it relates to heroics. It’s important to be you. Izuku Midoriya’s happiness matters just as much as Deku’s does. Your hobbies, and passions… you can use them to help craft your public hero image, but as a limelight hero, you’re not always going to be able to be on. You will run yourself into the ground doing that. You have to carve something small and enjoyable out for yourself too.”
A few seconds later Present Mic’s phone vibrates again, and the man pulls away, “So. Ramen.”
“Oh, uh, Tonkotsu. Please.”
“You got it, listener.”
One of the vestiges says something vaguely encouraging but Izuku can't focus enough to hear them out. Instead, Present Mic’s voice rings out on repeat in his head, a solitary windchime amongst a barrage of contrasting sounds-
Izuku Midoriya’s happiness matters just as much as Deku’s does.
Something about that twists and tears deep inside his soul, and it festers. Old wounds flare and surface, and all he can think about is how he wishes more than anything else that it could be true.
It’s not though. It can’t be. Not with the legacy he’s been entrusted with—the quirk that flows through his veins and the spirits of the dead in his mind. Izuku Midoriya, quirkless, helpless, useless, could never be as important as all of that. He could never be as important as them.
He has always been a Deku. He's not even sure Izuku Midoriya has ever really existed beyond that.
The voices inside his head clamber over each other for attention, but It’s all far too loud and far too passionate, and he can’t find his place in it. It’s just too much, and he can’t let it out. Can’t share it. So he forces it back, bottles it up, and feels like he’s going to explode.
Ringing and banging and strumming and chiming. It spins gracelessly through the void in a cacophony of chaos. Each individual sound feels familiar, knows the others, somehow slotting together, but not as well as they should. Something is missing.
The kid’s been abnormally quiet ever since their little talk in the elevator, and as he sits curled up in Hizashi’s favorite leather armchair, he seems to be thinking hard on something. His shoulders are stiff, and every once and a while Hizashi catches him staring off blankly into the middle distance with glassy eyes and fingers wringing together anxiously.
He’s been prepping his booth and talking to his producer for a bit now, but every so often he glances back into the main room. He’s just about to cut his conversation short to go check on Midoriya instead, when he sees Yagira walk into the room.
Hizashi met Kiyoshi Yagira a few months after graduating. He'd had been a cocky, rookie hero at the time, just arriving on the scene of a nasty villain attack at a music hall. Yagira and several other musicians had been taken hostage, corralled on the stage by a man with sharp, knife like elbows.
The villain was quick. Hizashi had gotten much closer than he ever should have, and would have been dismembered had it not been for Yagira tackling the villain at the last moment. When the dust had settled, Yagira approached him with a smile and stated, “I think you must have a beautiful song, I’m glad it’s not gone.”
He was one of Hizashi’s first ever guests on his show, and has kept in touch ever since.
Yagira is tall and spindly, with bright pink eyes and a small, but kind smile. He’s sporting the same mid-back length ponytail he always has, not a single jet-black hair out of place. He’s well kept, expensive clothes pressed and immaculately styled, and he’s still got the same, lacy black three fingered gloves he’s always worn.
His eyes sparkle happily as he spots Hizashi across the room, and he gives a small smile, “Yamada!”
Midoriya startles a little comically, eyes wide, head twisting to peak up over the back of the chair, having not heard the man arrive.
Hizashi meets him in the middle of the room just as his producer excuses herself completely, and they shake hands, “Good to see you Yagira.”
They exchange mild pleasantries, but something clearly has Yagira distracted. After a few moments he pauses, turns his head to face Midoriya, and says, “Who is this young man?”
Hizashi takes the change in topic and slight bluntness in stride, as Yagira has always been like that. He knows the man's attention waivers at times because of his quirk. “This is my hero intern for the semester! Wanna introduce yourself, listener?”
Midoriya uncurls himself from the chair, his earlier discomfort and unease once again blockaded away behind a smile and polite bow as he quietly obliges, “My name is Izuku Midoriya sir, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Yagira almost looks confused, brows furrowing in a way that Hizashi has never really seen before. He hums a bit, then slowly replies, “Yes... it’s very nice to meet you too.”
There’s a thickness to the atmosphere around them that wasn’t there before, and Midoriya seems to have noticed it too. His spine straightens, and he clurls his fingers at his sides. There’s an anxious look in his eyes that sets off a few warning bells in the back of Hizashi’s head, but he does his best to ignore them as he clears his throat to bring the attention back to himself, “Yagira here is a music composer, and has one of the most interesting quirks I’ve ever seen!”
Midoriya remains a bit guarded, but the tension bleeds a bit from his shoulders as his curiosity overtakes him, “Oh, really? What-What kind of quirk? Does it have something to do with your work?”
Yagira stares for a few moments longer, eyes narrowed questionably on his student before he shakes his head a bit and brings one hand up to message his temple, “My quirk is called Soul Song.”
“Soul Song?” Midoriya chews his bottom lip a bit, hands twitching like he wants to write everything down, “What does it do?”
“It’s a bit of a dramatic name…” Yagira chuckles as he replies, still cradling his head, “I have no idea of the existence of souls, or anything as such, but I do know that I can hear sounds that are unique to each and every person. Most are simple little noises or notes. They don’t necessarily seem like much at first, but the longer I listen, and the more I focus, the more intricate it becomes. Yamada’s,” He uses his free hand to motion in Hizashi’s direction, “Sounds a lot like the random strumming of a guitar at first. I take those sounds and break them down out in my head, and compose the songs that best represent the person I’ve drawn it from.”
“He can also make you hear the sounds too! Or even other people’s sounds!” Hizashi adds, “It’s pretty neat!”
“Wait, really? How? What would you even classify that as? It must be an emitter type, even though it sounds like it would be a mental type. I mean, it’s clearly not a mutant type. But if you can make other people hear it, then it must have some form of activation for them…” Midoriya pauses for a moment and his eyes dart almost hungrily over Yagira’s form, absorbing every little detail, before he decisively proclaims, “Emitter. I think you can probably hear the sounds yourself from a distance, since you keep rubbing your head, and probably don’t have an off switch, but I’m guessing you have to touch people a certain way to get them to hear it. Your gloves suggest five-point contact?”
Yagira’s eyes have gone a bit wide, and Hizashi has to hold back a laugh at the flabbergasted look on his face. Part of the way into his second year, Midoriya’s penchant for analysis had caught on with the entire U.A. staff, and after a few sit downs with Nedzu, All Might, and Shouta on the importance of recordkeeping and the dangers his notebooks could present, he’d begun writing everything in code.
Yagira’s fingers have stilled in their ministrations against the side of his head. “Er. Yes, very observant.” He tries for a smile, then winces, and says, “Apologies. Your song isn’t…There’s too many.”
Midoriya goes stock still and what little bit of levity they’d gained plummets as his eyes grow wide, suspicious, “What?”
The kid’s almost fearful tone has the hairs on the back of Hizashi’s neck standing on end.
Yagira frowns a bit, then says, “It’s like an entire orchestra inside your head, but each instrument is playing in a different tune. I… It’s hard for me to explain. I could show you?”
Midoriya swallows, and just as Hizashi is about to insist that it’s probably not a good idea, the kid nods cautiously and steps forward, “Alright…”
Yagira gives a curt nod and removes his gloves. He strides over to Midoriya, and reaches out to gently cradle each side of the kid’s head, thumbs resting on his cheeks and fingers splayed across his temples.
“The last time I heard anything like this was with one of those Nomu creatures…” Yagira murmurs offhandedly, and Hizashi feels his heart painfully skip a beat inside his chest.
In the very next breath, Midoriya violently flinches back as if struck, his quirk flaring as the energy released pushes all the furniture in the room back several feet. Yagira stumbles and falls backwards, and Hizashi’s instincts have him at his side within seconds.
Crackling green bolts cascade down and away Midoriya’s form, and his eyes flash toxically as the smell of ozone fills the air around them, “Sorry.” He pants, bringing one hand up to tug at his curls, “I… I have to go. I just need to. I’m sorry.”
And before Hizashi can even raise a hand to stop him or shout any sort of discouragement, Midoriya is gone.
A long time later comes one final sound. It’s a little sad, and humble and barely there, a gentle string of lonely notes that want so desperately to be heard.
It’s all so painstakingly familiar. It feels like it should fit.
Izuku’s head hurts, so much so that he doesn’t notice where his feet have taken him until he stumbles and crashes face first into cold, gritty sand. It’s late, and the beach is completely abandoned. The moon has risen far above the horizon at this point, and the sky is free of clouds. The city lights don’t allow for many stars, but the few that are visible are bright and beautiful.
And Izuku doesn’t notice any of it. All he can focus on is the mess of sounds inside his head. He hadn’t known what he was expecting when Yagira had offered to use his quirk on him, but it wasn’t this.
He thinks the ghosts are shouting and pleading, trying to reach him through the noise, their feelings of fear-distress-comfort-worry erupt to the surface, but it’s too much. It’s been too much for a while now, the pressure of everything, and he just wants to let it out. Wants to shout and scream. Wants someone to understand. Someone who isn’t dead, who isn’t inside his head, someone who isn’t All Might, or Kacchan.
He wants someone from the outside.
Because neither of them get it. All Might didn’t have this noise inside his head when he carried One for All, nor did the power ever threaten to tear his body into pieces. The vestiges, as much as Izuku has come to love them like something even closer than family, had never appeared to All Might in the same way they have with Izuku. Izuku doesn’t know why, doesn’t know if they just didn’t have the strength until now, or if there’s some other reason…
It’s too much for him to think about right now, and he needs to let it out to someone. All Might has always had people around him who knew. People that All Might chose.
All Might wants him to be the next symbol, and Izuku feels an awful lot like Atlas with the world on his shoulders, because he just can’t let All Might down. He can’t afford to fail.
Then there’s Kacchan.
Kacchan helps a bit. In his own way. But their past is too complicated, too messy and violent. And looking back, Izuku isn't really sure if he actually chose to tell Kacchan, or if he felt pressured into it. He can’t really tell anymore. The lines are too blurry for him to make out the edges.
He cares about the ghosts inside his head, and they obviously care about him. He doesn’t want to let them down either, and wants to be able to give them the peace and rest they deserve…
But his head is full and his shoulders are starting to burn.
The soft hum eventually threads its way through the rest of the sounds, weaving and pulling and tying. It draws them together while still letting them remain unique and wholly their own.
It doesn’t fit.
Until it does.
Hizashi finally finds Midoriya after he gets the idea to call Yagi, asking if the man could think of anywhere the overwhelmed kid might go. When the former number one hero tries to say he’ll go find the kid instead, Hizashi puts his foot down and tells him he’ll shout him across Musutafu if he so much as tries to run interference at this point.
Something is deeply wrong with the kid, and Hizashi is far more observant than people give him credit for. Midoriya would have just interned with one of All Might’s contacts again if he’d wanted to, but something pushed him away and towards Hizashi instead.
Yagi sounds so incredibly sad when he finally relents, giving the name of a public beach not too far from his agency, and luckily, in the same direction Hizashi has already been heading. He also claims that this is his fault somehow, and wants Hizashi to ask Midoriya to forgive him.
Hizashi has no idea what that’s about, but he’s going to find out. He’s going to help this kid if it’s the last thing he does.
He calls Shouta and tells him where to meet them. After Hizashi and Yagira had hastily explained the situation, Shouta had gone off in the complete opposite direction in his search, to cover as much ground as possible. It’ll take him time to reach the beach, but hopefully Hizashi will have found the little listener by then and have things at least halfway sorted out.
Hizashi rounds the corner of a short stone wall, and in the distance, he spots a mop of green curls highlighted brightly in the moonlight.
He slows his approach, but makes sure to make just enough noise not to spook the kid. It doesn’t seem to work though, as the Midoriya jumps about three feet into the air as soon as Hizashi speaks, “Hey, listener.”
Midoriya’s eyes are red rimmed and full of tears. He wipes at them, then the bit of snot under his nose with a grimace before he huffs out, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I hope I didn’t hurt anyone.”
Hizashi can see the small scratches on the kid’s palms and cheeks, patches of gritty sand dusting the skin. He slowly curls his legs to sit down beside Midoriya, leaning back on his palms, “A little bit of accidental quirk usage happens to all of us, kid. I was born with my quirk you know.”
Midoriya sniffles, “I know. They say you deafened your doctor.”
Hizashi nods, “Yeah. My quirk’s a real pain to control sometimes, especially when I’m emotional or tired. I understand exactly what that’s like.”
“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to intern with you.” Midoriya admits quietly, still sniffling, “My quirk hurts me, and I kinda figured maybe yours used to hurt you too. And I-I just needed… something different.”
Hizashi hums, but waits until the kid elaborates on his own.
“I-I wanted to work with someone who didn’t have all these… expectations.”
Midoriya goes quiet, and for the longest time the only sound between them is the lapping of the waves and the traffic in the distance. Hizashi takes a chance and wraps one arm around the kid’s shoulders. He goes stiff for a moment, but it’s not long before Midoriya practically melts into the embrace, hands fisting the back of his leather jacket as he completely falls apart into painful sounding sobs.
Shouta arrives a little while later, and without prompting, sits on the other side of Midoriya. He lets out a gentle, “I think it’s time we had a talk, Problem Child.”
Midoriya lets out a bit of a manic laugh at that, and Hizashi swears he can feel his ribs creak with how hard he’s being clung to. He almost doesn’t catch the kid’s reply, muffled as it is against his shirt, “I think-I think you might be right.”
And then he tells them a ghost story.
Several weeks later, Izuku receives a package. It’s got nine separate holo-disks, each with their own handwritten explanation, and a letter, signed by none other than Kiyoshi Yagira.
It’s an apology, as well as a gift. Yagira hadn’t meant to upset Izuku at all, and explains that he’s not always the best with his words, because his quirk interferes with his thoughts sometimes. He should have never compared Izuku to a Nomu, because it wasn’t truly accurate.
On each disk is the recording of an orchestra playing a different song. They’re all extremely beautiful, and unique…One is primarily led by a violin, another a piano, and so on and so forth. They range in style from melancholy lullabies to loud, brash marches.
But there’s something simple and gentle that ties them all together. A pattern of notes that even Izuku recognizes in the background after the first couple times.
When he reaches the final disk, the accompanying explanation simply states, 'This one feels the most like you, Izuku Midoriya. It is a culmination of everything that came before, and I believe my best work yet. Thank you for letting me hear your song.'
And when Izuku pushes play, the first thing he hears is a soft, short series of notes. A gentle hum, the same melody that laces itself through every other piece. It’s a little sad. And a little lonely. Like it desperately wants to be heard.
And then, the orchestra erupts into a mess of chaotic, but beautiful sound. He can hear every other song being represented at the same time, but none of them ever overtake that single, simple melody. It’s the thread that ties them all together, and somehow, they make music.
It’s familiar, and it fits.