#it's not entirely unwarranted. at least his sheer frustration is understandable

[ladylynse]

I had a follower giveaway a couple months ago, and @raveniris57 won the bonus prize (which was intended to be a shorter fic, and I still overshot my goal of ‘short fic’, but it’s still on the shorter side). They wanted a BNHA fic, a One For All reveal to the classmates/Midoriya’s mother, and decided they’d rather I focus on the aftermath rather than the lead up to the reveal.

Discovered: [FF | AO3] They all know, and Midoriya can’t change that, but.... Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if one more person found out, too.

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Midoriya wasn’t sure when it began or, even in hindsight, how it began. He didn’t know who it had started with, and he hadn’t been aware enough to track its spread. By the time he realized something had changed, it was too late.

He just knew that people slowly started to look at him differently.

It was…subtle. Iida was just a bit more formal than usual. Mina and Hagakure still whispered together, but they stopped whenever he walked into the room. Mineta and Kaminari whispered, too, but that didn’t always stop when he walked in on it; it was just accompanied with jealous glares (especially on Mineta’s part) that seemed unwarranted, especially since none of the others who had the opportunity to work with pro-heroes were getting the same treatment. He thought Kirishima was trying to get them to stop, had seen him talking to them, and it did lessen, but…. He couldn’t deny that that made Koda’s strange offerings of baked goods or the way Jiro would let him pick what they listened to when they all hung out together in the common area even more welcome.

They weren’t the only ones making a point of being nice to him, though. Sato, Shoji, Ojiro, Sero— They all did little things, like holding the door or trying to make sure his favourite spot on the couch was open. It wasn’t much out of the ordinary for what they usually did, at least he didn’t think it was, but once he became conscious of it, he saw all of it.

Tokoyami, on the other hand, had told him to his face that he was going to give him space and to seek him out if he wished to talk, and Midoriya had barely seen him outside of class in two weeks.

Tsu-chan and Uraraka were clearly making an effort to treat him the same, but in light of everyone else, it was easy to see the overcompensation for what it was. The way Uraraka would sometimes glance away too quickly or jump on something else as a distraction or change in topic, or the way Tsu-chan’s smiles would be too wide, her silences too calculating.

Aoyama had slipped him in a note. Midoriya hadn’t seen him do it, but it had turned up in the middle of his private things in his room, and he was pretty sure Aoyama was the writer. Even if it weren’t for where he’d found the note, its vague but familiar content told him all he needed to know. I’d always thought you’d understood, but I didn’t realize I was wrong in thinking why.

The fact that he thought he was wrong in thinking why, though, when Midoriya had never corrected him, had never really thought he had cause to correct him, since it was true in its own way—

And then there was Yaoyorozu. Though Midoriya was still unsure of the occasion—occasions—she had taken it upon herself to bring in more treats, the sort she typically reserved for special occasions or when she thought someone needed cheering up. And he’d caught her talking to Kacchan more frequently than he ever had before. Not that there was something weird about that, exactly, except that it usually took much longer than Midoriya would expect for Kacchan to storm off in a huff, and Yaoyorozu always looked a little sad and unsurprised when he did, instead of angry or frustrated or any of the reactions most other people had when talking to Kacchan for extended periods of time.

Kacchan himself hadn’t really changed. If he had a slightly shorter temper than usual around Midoriya, well, it was difficult to tell. He knew Kacchan. He’d have a shorter temper just because he got a little less sleep—which, frankly, they all were these days. So that wasn’t really cause for concern, not on its own. It was actually comforting, the fact that Kacchan hadn’t changed. The fact that he didn’t look at Midoriya differently, even when it seemed like everyone else in class was.

Midoriya didn’t figure out what was going on until Todoroki—who had also been avoiding him more than usual, however much circumstances were made to seem like he just happened to have something on when Midoriya was free—cornered him outside of their dorms after a late practice session. “Just tell me, Midoriya,” he said, “is this the real reason why you tried to get me to accept the whole of my own power at the sports festival?”

Midoriya frowned. “What are you talking about? You know why I said what I did.”

“I know what you said, but….” He trailed off. Took a deep breath. Met Midoriya’s eyes again. “You know who my father is. You know the legacy I’m expected to meet. To exceed. I…. If you feel the same pressure, I’m forced to wonder why you’d help me. Whatever my potential, I’m not your strongest opponent right now. You know I failed the provisional licensing exam—”

“What?” Midoriya glanced behind Todoroki, half-expecting this to be some kind of trick, but though the lights were on in the dorm, he couldn’t see anyone else outside. “I helped you because you’re my friend. Because we all need to help each other. Because—”

“Because you think it’ll be an easier transition between generations if the top two heroes of our generation mirrors that of our fathers’ generation?”

Midoriya blinked. “What?”

“I don’t mean to imply that All Might is your father, but you have to know that would be a better story to tell than the truth. The potential for chaos and the sheer amount of danger involved isn’t worth the risk.”

Something cold spread across Midoriya’s chest and trickled down his spine to settle as a pit in his stomach. “The…the truth?”

“Your quirk.” Todoroki’s voice was quiet, but it sounded entirely too loud to Midoriya’s ears. How could he know? When had he found out? Who else knew?

Was this why everyone—?

This was bad.

No one was supposed to know about One For All. It was just too dangerous a secret to spread. He hadn’t even told his mom about it. He knew she must have wondered. This wasn’t a quirk similar to anyone’s in the family, and he’d been declared quirkless. The joy of discovering that he wasn’t, that he did have a quirk after all, on top of the rush of getting accepted in UA and going to school— She might not have questioned it then, but once he was gone and she’d had time to think? She would have wondered.

Kacchan had certainly wondered.

And he’d figured out more of the truth than the rest of their classmates. Or he had. Until now, apparently. Or…earlier. At least two weeks earlier. For Tokoyami, if no one else.

“Who….” Midoriya licked his lips and tried to focus. “Who else…?”

Todoroki stepped back and, for the first time, looked uncomfortable. “I thought you knew. Didn’t Aizawa-sensei tell you?”

“Aizawa-sensei knows?” Midoriya squeaked. It wasn’t the entire school, was it? If this got out into the public, if any of All Might’s enemies—

“He pulled each of us aside to speak with us once he realized we knew. I assumed he’d done the same to you.”

He had not.

Aizawa-sensei had not given any indication that he knew anything about Midoriya’s quirk, much less how it was connected to All Might and what all of that meant.

But maybe that was a good thing. Nothing changing in class made it more likely that it hadn’t spread beyond Class 1A. He certainly hadn’t noticed anything beyond the usual rivalries with other classes, 1B especially, and Aizawa-sensei would have an easier time keeping this secret than some.

But still.

If Aizawa-sensei knew, if his entire class knew, it would only be a matter of time before All Might caught wind of this and…. Midoriya wasn’t entirely sure what would happen then. A frank conversation, maybe in smaller groups. To get everyone to understand the gravity of this secret. That it wasn’t something to be used or mentioned even in passing. There were so many villains that could overhear and use that information, and All For One—

That wasn’t over.

Midoriya knew it wasn’t over.

Whatever had happened, there was more yet to come.

Somehow.

And with so many people knowing….

“I need to talk to All Might,” Midoriya said, stumbling back. “I’m sorry. I…. I just need to talk to him first.”

He was off running before Todoroki could reply, using just enough power that he wouldn’t be caught unless Todoroki decided it was time for a rematch.

Which he wouldn’t, because they weren’t supposed to be fighting each other outside of planned training sessions, and Todoroki couldn’t afford to pick a fight while he still hoped to get his provisional license.

For the first time, Midoriya was thankful that some of his friends had failed the first time around.

XXXXXX

All Might spit out his coffee, some of the spray narrowly missing Midoriya. He wiped off everything that hadn’t missed him—plus the spots that had hit his wooden chair; what if it stained?—as All Might spluttered, “Everyone what?”

“Everyone in class knows,” he repeated, “and so does Aizawa-sensei. I don’t know how. I just…. They know. And I think I should tell my mom. If you’ll let me. She can keep a secret, I swear, and if one of the others can’t….”

“If one of the others can’t, you think she’ll be in danger.” All Might rubbed his temples. “You do realize we’ll all be in danger? You most especially?”

“I know. And if I can’t protect her, and someone tries to get at me through her…. Doesn’t she deserve the warning? Just in case?”

All Might blew out his breath and sat back on his couch. “You’re sure everyone knows?”

“Todoroki told me himself.”

“He told you about One For All?”

“Well, he—” Midoriya broke off and chewed his lip. “He mentioned my quirk. The truth about it. And…and what would happen if it got out.”

“So you don’t know that his truth and our truth is the same truth?”

“Not exactly,” Midoriya admitted at length.

“Then we don’t say anything about it until we know they have the right of it.”

“But what if they do?”

“We’ll address it then.”

“But….” He was sure they knew. Avoiding it until they explicitly told him wouldn’t stop the rumours from spreading, and what if the rumours got beyond the class?

Maybe All Might was right, though. Maybe this wasn’t what he thought it was. All Might had lived with this secret for far longer than he had, after all, and he must have faced similar situations.

“You running to me won’t have helped matters, you know. You could have sneaked back here after finishing that conversation.”

“I was just…worried. Mom…. I feel bad about keeping this from her. Especially when my friends know. Probably know,” he amended, seeing All Might’s look. “Please, just…. Can we tell her? Just her?” A select few knew the truth about All Might, after all, and they wouldn’t have all known from the beginning. He must have decided to say something to some of them.

All Might was silent for a moment. Then, “You know enough to decide that for yourself. This is your burden to bear. You worry about the risk of your mother’s ignorance, but knowledge has consequences as well, and the risks are just as great.” He fell silent again. Midoriya was trying to figure out what he could say to that when All Might added quietly, “You know your mother better than I do, my boy, and you know me well enough to know what I think, but this is something you should decide for yourself.”

“All Might….”

“Try to get some rest, Midoriya, and let me know when you’ve made your decision.”

XXXXX

He could imagine his mother twisting the phone cord in her hands. He’d told her to sit down—to sit on the floor, specifically, though he’d heard the creak of the wooden kitchen chairs earlier and knew she hadn’t taken it that far—but he still half-expected to hear a thump and then silence. Instead, he finally heard her whisper, “Izuku….”

“I wanted this, Mom, and—”

“I know. I know. You found a way to achieve your dreams. You’ll…you’ll make a wonderful Symbol of Peace one day. I’m so proud of you.”

He could hear her sniffling. She was crying. She was being so supportive, sure he’d be just like his hero one day, but…

But she wasn’t questioning any of this, not like he’d thought she might. Like he thought anyone might. Maybe she didn’t fully understand. The implications…. Maybe they weren’t as clear to her as he’d thought.

He started telling her again, in a different way, just to be sure, but she stopped him.

“I knew you weren’t just a late bloomer, Izuku,” she said. He wished he could have done this in person, but the circumstances hadn’t allowed for it, and he hadn’t wanted to wait. But if he could just see her expression right now, see her beyond the image he held of her in his head as he sat on his bed with the phone in one hand and a picture of the two of them in the other…. “I knew you were quirkless. I didn’t know there was a quirk like this out there, but I’m not surprised you found it—or that it found you. You aren’t afraid to work hard to achieve your dreams, and you’ll exceed whatever expectations All Might has for you. I know you will. You’ve always exceeded mine, and you’ve always had a greater faith than I ever did. I’m trying to be more like you. You’re already my hero. You know that, right? And if you need anything, either of you, know that I will do anything I can for you.”

“Mom….”

“I love you, Izuku, and I always will, whether you have a quirk or not. But I will always worry for you, too, because I’m your mother. Please, be as safe as you can be while you are doing everything you must to save others.”

He blinked back tears of his own. “I’ll try,” he said. It wasn’t quite I promise, and she’d know that, but she’d also accept it for what it was. He didn’t intend to go out and break almost every bone in his body, but if it was a choice between that and not saving someone, well, his safety didn’t matter at that point. He’d certainly do as much training as he could to prevent that, though, and that had to count for something. That was trying. Trying wasn’t always succeeding, but it didn’t have to be.

Learning was just as good.

“Thanks for everything.” That wasn’t enough on its own, but he didn’t know what to add to it. Actions would matter more than words now. He’d have to make her proud, to give her good reason to be his strongest supporter, even though he knew she would be regardless. “I love you.”

He’d just have to do his best, whatever the future held.

Whatever his friends knew.

Whatever his enemies might discover.

“I love you, too,” she repeated. “Good luck.”

Good luck. He’d need that now, navigating this new path forward. Even if he didn’t talk to his friends about this—to Aizawa-sensei about this—until they specifically brought it up to him, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be talked about. Especially after what had happened with Todoroki. He’d been in his room by the time Midoriya had returned, but….

But that wasn’t the end of it.

It was only the beginning.

And he could only guess at what lay ahead.

“Thanks, Mom.” Whatever happened next, he’d do his best. It was all he could do. If he made mistakes, if this had been a mistake, he’d work to correct it. If any of this somehow got out, if word spread, if All For One found out—

He might not be able to contain every spreading ripple, but he could enlist help doing so, even from those who didn’t know the whole truth.

If he did become the Symbol of Peace one day, he’d do it with the help of his friends. With his mother’s support, with All Might’s guidance, with his teachers’ lessons. And, despite what Todoroki had implied, he wouldn’t be alone. They would all stand together. It was harder to break apart a braid of teamwork than to topple a single figure from the top of a pyramid.

They would all do their best, and their best would be brilliant.

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#bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #fanfiction #midoriya izuku #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #bnha snippet #I hope you like it! #I did my best #I was trying to keep it short #so it won't be as focused as you were probably hoping