Work Header

i am bulletproof (but i never said i was unbreakable)

Chapter Text

"Excuse me?” Inko spat, her voice high and shrill. “You’re telling me that you’re forcing a literal child to become a human weapon, simply for your benefit?”

The officer before her scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Not for my benefit, but for the benefit of the country as a whole. This boy,” he said, placing a hand atop the head of a boy with a curly green undercut, pale skin and freckles, and oriental viridian eyes, “has an incredible quirk; one that could turn the tide of this war.”

“He’s a child!” Inko yelled, slamming her hands down on the table. The officer flinched. The boy simply stood there, no reaction at all.

A child shouldn’t be like that. No child should act like that, unless they had suffered immense trauma.

“He’s a weapon,” the officer said, his voice low and sharp. “Midoriya, you are a military employed psychologist, specializing in situations like this. You, of all people, are the most qualified to take care of this boy.”

“I specialize in dealing with trauma, PTSD, anxiety, depression, and other mental illnesses in adults. I have never taken care of a child in my entire life; I am the least qualified person for this, Colonel Yamamoto.”

Yamamoto growled, simmering with rage. “Midoriya Inko, you will follow the orders of your commanding officer.”

Inko sighed, leaning back in her chair, taking off her glasses and tossing them onto her desk. Inko swung her head around to look at the boy, her eyes cold and calculating, searching for any sort of reaction.

She got nothing. This boy was simply an empty shell, a tool, a lump of clay waiting to be molded.

He terrified her.

“Boy,” she snapped, still seeking any form of emotion that she subconsciously knew would never come. “What is your quirk?”

“Time Dialation,” he said after a moment of hesitation, his words monotone and clipped. “Allows the user to speed up or slow down time on any person object, or area.”

Inko’s eyebrow cocked upwards, feigning disinterest. Why did he look so dull? “Name?”

The boy tilted his head to the left slightly, contemplating what his name was. “Izuku,” he said, his voice soft and slow.

“Izuku?” Inko said, her voice suddenly warm and welcoming. Izuku looked up,the slight fear in his eyes prominent and clear. Inko smiled at him, soft green eyes crinkling at the edges as a few strands of her pastel green hair fell out of it’s tightly coiled bun.

“Welcome home.”

Chapter Text

Izuku peeled open his eyes to the same metal grey ceiling he had been waking to for the past nine years, rolling over to shut off his alarm before it even went off. Duly noting that it was five in the morning, Izuku rolled out of his bed and tossed on a fresh, plain white shirt and some black pants and shoes before heading out to the mess hall, not even sparing a glance at the rest of his sparse bedroom.

As he wandered through the halls of the military base he had lived in since he was five, Izuku greeted the other officers as if it weren’t five in the morning, but as if it was 05:01. Saluting to his senior officers, the lieutenant generals and generals, and nodding curtly to his juniors, the lieutenants, colonels, captains, majors, and brigadier generals.

Eventually, Izuku found himself standing amongst the other commissioned officers and enlisted soldiers of the base, everyone groggy and still half asleep. At least, his juniors were half asleep. And his seniors. The major general seemed perplexed; why was everyone so tired? It was only 05:30. Not that early.

Izuku nodded curtly to the kitchen staff as they dropped some of the same slop he had been eating his entire life onto his tray, hastily grabbing a piece of stale bread. Izuku proceeded to make way to where his entire ranking sat, all thirteen major generals sitting at the table, eating and chatting quietly amongst themselves. Eventually, a second lieutenant stopped by the drop off their assignments. Quiet groans and complaints erupted from the major generals, all complaining except for Izuku.

“Um, Major General Midoriya?” The lieutenant said quietly, bowing respectfully.

Izuku blinked at the officers slowly. “What is it, Second Lieutenant?” He asked, his voice flat and monotone.

“General Nakamura, the Field Marshall, and Ms. Inko want to see both you and Lieutenant General Komorebi in the briefing office.”

Izuku nodded, raising an eyebrow. “And..?”

The lieutenant looked at him blankly before remembering. “Oh! A- apologises, Major General, Sir. The meeting will begin at 06:00. Please be prepared by that time,” he stammered, obviously upset with himself for forgetting to mention the time.

“Thank you, Second Lieutenant. You are dismissed.”


As Izuku made his way back to his room, he tried to think of every reason as to why the Field Marshal and his commanding officer wanted to seem both him and Komorebi. And why Komorebi Akari of all people? A lieutenant general, the next in line for promotion!

Wait. Maybe he was getting promoted? But then why would the Field Marshal be there?

Izuku continued to speculate as he dressed himself in his uniform - it was the uniform of a Spe. For. officer, and a high ranking one at that. The smooth and durable fabric made up his black turtleneck and pants, as well as the black trench coat he had with white detailing. As Izuku made his way to the door, he snatched up the pure white beret from off his dresser and set it atop his mop of messy green curls. Quickly taking off his glasses and tossing them onto his night stand, Izuku swiftly put in his contacts before sprinting out. It was 05:45, he should already be at the briefing room.

When Izuku finished weaving through the hallways, the ocean of officers parting for him as they saluted and bowed, he entered the briefing room with an aura of dignity and authority wreathed around him.

All of that was destroyed in an instant when Izuku noticed that some people were here already, with the exception of the Lieutenant General and Miss Inko, as he had come to know her.

“Major General Midoriya, how kind of you to join us,” Nakamura said blandly, setting his hands on top of the papers he had set on the table. “Would you care to take a seat?”

Izuku nodded curtly, pulling out a chair and sitting down. Everyone sat in silence as they waited for Miss Inko to come. As Izuku cast a look around the room, he noticed that Nakamura seemed extremely pissed off - more than usual.

The briefing room was a cold, pale grey room with a matte black, long, oval shaped table at the center surrounded by sleek, modern, black swivel chairs. There was some extra room between the table, chairs, and walls for secretaries and transcribers. On the right hand of the room was a screen that could produce live feeds of all and any battlefields in the world and that people used for presentations when talking strategy.

The Field Marshal sat at the head of the table on the left hand side, a mask covering their face as to hide their identity, gender, age, you get the drill. Their hair was a toffee brown, pulled back in a tight, dignified bun, a few strands pulled out for a professional look and to frame the mask’s face. Their hands were folded in their lap, covered by soft, dark leather gloves. The uniform was sleek and simple: picture the uniforms from Fullmetal Alchemist crossed over with a vest and button down shirt to make it more professional.

General Nakamura was one of the many officers of color in the Japanese military, but he was one of the few officers to have reached a high ranking like general. The high amount of melanin in his skin made him stand out from the pale grey walls of the base. He was bald with dark grey eyes, a scar running from the right hand corner of his mouth up to right below his eye. The man was sitting straight up, his hands folded over a small pile of papers on the table. Nakamura was sitting on the right hand side of the table, where the second highest ranking officer would sit.

Izuku, or in this case Major General Midoriya, was sitting in the second seat to the left of Nakamura, leaving space for Lieutenant General Komorebi. His skin was pale, dotted with freckles that looked like splattered paint. His oriental viridian eyes were cold and calculating, hardened after years of being with the military. His curly green undercut was as fluffy as ever, the shaved part branded with the numbers 813.

And so, the three military personnel sat in silence, their eyes trained on some distant image. A few minutes passed before the door slid open once more, revealing Lieutenant General Komorebi and Miss Inko. Izuku got to his feet and saluted the senior officer, holding the position until she nodded curtly. Komorebi repeated the action to Nakamura before bowing respectfully to the field marshal. “Apologies, Field Marshal, General Nakamura, Sirs. I had to pick up Miss Inko,” Komorebi said, her voice flat yet airy.

Lieutenant General Komorebi was a woman of short stature, standing at exactly 152.4 centimeters, or 5 feet for those who use the Imperial System. Komorebi was the head of the Spe. For. that Izuku was a part of, him being second in command. She had a similar uniform to Izuku’s with a difference in color; his was black with white detailing, hers was white with black detailing. “Not good for blood stains,” she had said when they first received  the uniforms. Komorebi had been in this business as longer than him; eleven years since she was three. Komorebi grew up her at the base - it was all she had ever known.

Komorebi had burning red hair, so bright it could probably blind someone. She had heterochromia eyes that shifted color in the light - her right eye pale grey and changed to orange and her left was green that shifted to yellow. Her skin was paler than Izuku’s and had even lighter freckles, her face lean and slim. She wore worn out, scuffed up brown leather combat boots that were extremely aged, and she was the same age as Izuku: Fourteen.

Her hair was buzzed on one side, the other long and wavy. On the buzzed side were the numbers 669, something she had had since as long as she could remember.

Komorebi and Izuku had grown up together, trained together, even shared the same room. They were partners in crime, whatever one did, the other was soon to follow. Izuku could read Komorebi like an open book, and Komorebi could do the same to him. They were basically siblings, taken care of and taught by Miss Inko.

Komorebi continued to her seat, settling down between Nakamura and Izuku, leaning back in her chair. As she did so, her metal prosthetic arm glinted in the light, as did the metal that creeped up the right side of her face and stopped at her cheekbone. Miss Inko settled down by the field marshal, her pastel green hair braided neatly and her slim glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. She was wearing a soft black sweater and a white pencil skirt, bright red pumps on her feet.

Miss Inko smiled softly. “If you don't mind me asking,” she began, her voice light and bouncy, “why have we met? Is something wrong?”

“No,” Nakamura sighed, intertwining his fingers as he leaned forward. “Not in the slightest. I simply wanted to tell you that you’re both being promoted.”

Both Komorebi and Izuku raised their eyebrows at that - a promotion, so out of the blue? It seemed random, but he knew that the field marshal never did anything without purpose. “And that leads me to my second point,” Nakamura continued. “You are both being promoted to the rank of general.”

Now, this was strange. Komorebi swung her head around to look at the field marshal, who was a stoic as ever, not even a grain of emotion visible. “There is one more thing,” the field marshal said, their voice soft and authoritative. “You both, along with Miss Inko, are being moved.”

What? ” Miss Inko said, leaning forward with interest. “Why this sudden change? And why us?”

The field marshal simply raised her hand slightly, propping it up on the table, and flicked her wrist. Within half a second, one of the majors standing in front of the door walked in and leaned down to speak with the field marshal in hushed tones. A split second later, the major left.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the air tense and confused. Finally, the major returned with two unknown entities. Izuku, recognizing the major before he left, gave the thanks he knew the field marshal would not provide. “Major Niko,” he addressed, his voice soft and quiet. Niko turned around to look at him, mildly scared. Izuku smiled softly. “Thank you.”

At this, Niko beamed; it was always a pleasure to receive praise from a senior officer, especially a general. And thus, he left.

“This is Detective Tsukauchi,” the field marshal said, gesturing to a man in a tan trench coat and with short brown hair. He looked quite plain. “And this is Aizawa Shouta, Professional Hero Eraserhead.”

Aizawa, unlike Tsukauchi, wore simple black shirt and pants along with his scarf, which Izuku could tell was not simply for fashion purposes - the material was too strange. He had long black hair that was pulled back into a low messy bun and his bloodshot black eyes were unprofessional. His entire demeanor set Izuku off.

Fun fact about Izuku: if a serial killer walked into a bar, he would know. Izuku has always had deadly accurate intuition, and if someone walked in with a brief case of explosives, he would be hisisng in the corner like an irate cat.

So, here he was with a man who appeared to be a trusted acquaintance of the field marshal who was also setting off every single red flag in Izuku’s head. Clearly, Komorebi was having a similar issue, the way her non-prosthetic hand was twitching making it obvious to Izuku. But the field marshal laughed. “I can tell that Aizawa here is causing you issues.”

“Yes,” Izuku said in unison with Komorebi. “What is this about?”

“As previously stated, General Komorebi, General Midoriya, and Military Psychologist/Therapist Midoriya Inko will all be moved to Musutafu, Japan for a new assignment.

“The assignment is as follows: Gen. Komorebi and Gen. Midoriya are to act as hero course students at U.A. Academy in order to ensure the school’s safety, as there is a growing threat to the safety of both the school and the country.

“Normally, we would allow the heroes to deal with a situation like this, but they have proved to be incompetent and inadequate, as they also have to deal with the press individually. The military, on the other hand, has the ability to do close to whatever they wish with close to no backlash.

“Gen. Komorebi and Gen. Midoriya are also the leaders of Special Force No. 0.1, which consists of them and the single group of lieutenants, majors, captains, colonels, and brigadier generals, along with a small team of researchers and other personnel. Spe. For. 0.1 specializes in undercover missions such as recon, assassinations, and spy missions, but they also have the capability to undermine entire governments with two people and a small team of researchers,” the Field Marshal finished. Everyone was stunned to silence with the exception of Komorebi, Izuku (For the most part.), Nakamura, and Aizawa, who may or may not be asleep on his feet.

Suddenly, a small creature popped up from Aizawa’s scarf. “How, you ask? Who is this small creature?” It said.

“Am I a bear, mouse, or dog? It is I, Principal Nedzu of U.A. Academy. Midoriya and Komorebi will be posing as twins who got into U.A. on the A.O.I. Recommendation track,” Nedzu said, hopping down onto the table. “And Ms. Midoriya here,” he said, turning to face Miss Inko, “will be acting as the school’s therapist and Midoriya and Komorebi’s mother/caretaker. Does everyone understand?”

Komorebi, Izuku, and Inko all blinked and simultaneously said, “Alright.”

After Nedzu explained the logistics along with introducing Tsukauchi and Aizawa as the only other two people who knew about the operation, everyone asked their questions and filled out the admissions forms.

And thus, Aizawa said the first thing the entire meeting.  

“Alright, then. Buckle up, ‘cause this is gonna be a damn wild ride.”

Chapter Text

Izuku dropped his bags - his two very small bags - down on the hard wooden floor of his new room, his eyes flickering around in search of escape routes, places for wires, hiding spots-


This isn’t Vietnam.

thIs is n T VI e tna          M

He’s safe. Alive. Breathing. He can move his legs.

Komorebi is fine. She got her prosthetic. Her heart is beating. She’s safe.

They’re safe.

Suddenly, Izuku whipped his head around at the sound of quiet rapping on the door frame, only to see Komorebi standing in the frame. “Komorebi,” he breathed, turning around to face her slowly. Komorebi chuckles, running a metal hand through her crimson hair.

“If we’re going to pull this off,” she said, moving forwards to stand by Izuku. “We need to address one another as if we were siblings. Can we do that, Izuku?” Komorebi - no, Akari, - took his hand, gripping it in her own cold one. Izuku nodded, his eyes burning with anticipation.

“... We have school tomorrow,” Izuku said quietly, his voice soft and shaky.

Akari looked at him oddly after a few moments, the silence heavy in the air. “I just realized that I have never been to school before,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Izuku stared at her for a solid minute before bursting out laughing. “Oh my god,” he wheezed, one hand on his stomach and the other holding him up against the wall. Akari looked at him, flustered. “You’ve never even gotten basic education?”

“I had to teach myself!” She spat, obviously annoyed with his reaction.

Izuku sighed and stood to face her, duly noticing how tall he was getting. (Well, maybe Akari wasn't the best comparison - she was only 152.4 cm.) “Then you must’ve done a damn good job. We’ll be going to Orudera Middle School, but only for third year. Plus, we don't have to worry about entrance exams or applying - Nedzu and Aizawa got that covered.” After a moment of thought, he added, “Do you have your uniform?”




“Pencils and pens?”

“Yes, now stop acting like my mother! That’s Miss Inko’s job, not yours!” Akari yelled, gently whacking him on the head. “Remember that we can sleep in! School starts at 07:00, and it’s a 20 minute train ride to get there. We can wake up at 06:30!” She called as she left the room, leaving Izuku to his own devices.

“Got it!” He yelled after her, his voice carrying through the hallways. Izuku sighed and turned towards the fully furnished room. Bending down, he began to unpack his few belongings.


Akari was running across the field, her B-14 Model, Military Grade sniper rifle heavy in her hands. Her eyes whipped around wildly, gazing at the chaos surrounding her. Akari noticed a new platoon of reinforcements heading towards her from the opponent, and sprinted towards the nearest and tallest building she could find.

Hiding behind a wall and holding the rifle close to her, Akari was panting with fear and exhaustion. Where the fuck was Izuku? Where was he in relation to the troops? How fast were they moving? What was their next move? Biting her lower lip, Akari slowly shuffled against the wall to the nearest window. She dropped into a squat, leaning against the frame for support. As her body slid downwards, she duly noticed the blood staining the wall.

Her injuries didn't matter anyway.

Akari lifted the sniper rifle and took aim, pain ripping through her veins at the slight movement of her arms, but the adrenaline her mind was churning out overwhelmed the pain and fear. Her finger played with the trigger in anticipation, the crusted blood on her hands flaking off and falling to the ground. Akari licked her lips as the soldiers came into view, peering through her scope to decide who was going to die in that moment. She latched onto a officer who she assumed to be either a lieutenant or major, and Akari smiled. She pulled the trigger and watched in glee as the man fell to his knees, blood gushing from his eye socket.

It was a beautiful sight.

Akari ripped up from her bed, her breath ragged and uneven. Her heart and head were pounding, her eyes dry and aching. Every muscle in her body was screaming to run; to get as far away as fast as possible. Akari reached up to trace the number branded onto the side of her head like a birthmark, pain and fear fluttering through her body.

Glancing over at the electronic clock mounted on the walls, Akari noted duly that it was 03:00 and that it was completely dark outside.

Perfect for an ambush.

Shaking slightly, Akari gripped her arms and drew her knees up close to her chest. She let out a quiet, strangled sob as she let the memories overwhelm her, the blood crusted and rusty B-14 mounted on her wall forever haunting her. A reminder of what she had done.

A reminder of what she has become.

(imsorrythatnevershouldhavehappenedhewassupposedtogetoutofitalivethisis your fault howcouldyoulethimjustdielikethatshesa monster)


Katsuki sat in the classroom, his eyes trained on some random student in the courtyard below. Everything looked so normal and peaceful - the students chattering softly in the background, the scratching of the teacher writing the date and events on the blackboard as he ranted about the first quirk war. The students below him laughing at something as they shoved their food in their mouths.

Everything was normal.

Everything was fine.

But then he came back.

“Everyone, I’m sorry to interrupt like this, but your class is going to have some new students!” The counselor said, popping her head through the doorway. Half the class sighed in relief over the fact that the history teacher had been cut off, but Katsuki had his eyes trained on the kids behind her.

As the counselor walked in, two people trailed behind her, both radiating professionalism and dignity. Except, he recognized one of them.


As the counselor introduced them as Midoriya Izuku and Komorebi Akari respectively, Katsuki took in every inch of his former friend. Deku looked different - he looked harder, more tough, more cold. Behind his oriental viridian eyes sat raw, cold intelligence that was untouchable, unrivaled by any. Deku’s posture, his tone of voice when he introduced himself, his entire demeanor just screamed that something was wrong , that someone had done something to this boy that just couldn't be fixed.

Deku had pale skin dotted with freckles, an undercut mop of green spilling over those eyes. Katsuki noted the numbers 613 branded onto the side of Deku’s head, filing that away for further investigation. Sure, he wore the same uniform as Katsuki, but he wore it with purpose, with dignity.

It was mildly terrifying.

What scared Katsuki even more was when someone prompted the two for their quirks and when they hesitated, glancing at one another before answering. “Time Dialation,” Deku said, his voice ringing in Katsuki’s ears. “Allows the user to manipulate time on any object, person, or area.”

Katsuki didn't pay attention to what the girl said, she didn’t matter at that moment. All that mattered was the fact that Deku had been actively suppressing his quirk, and then went missing. The fact that Katsuki had bullied this boy over his own biology, over a simple lie. The fact that Deku ended up leaving, and his parents didn’t.

The fact that Hinata Michimia and Hinata Akihiko were arrested for child abuse, neglect, and abandonment.

Deku’s parents were arrested for child abuse, neglect, and abandonment.

Katsuki needed to have a little talk with one Midoriya Izuku.

Chapter Text

Izuku’s eyes glossed over the students before him, picking apart everything and everyone down to their bones. But one person stood out to him in particular: Bakugou Katsuki.

The boy had tanner skin than Izuku’s, but it was still rather pale. He had ash blonde hair that looked like an explosion and crimson red eyes that could tear apart one’s soul. Izuku could tell that Bakugou was tall, definitely taller than him or Akari. It wasn't that Bakugou was anything special - sure, he was attractive, Izuku could admit that - but it was the fact that his childhood friend was sitting in the seat directly in front of where his was bound to be.

And that terrified him. All Izuku could do was hope that Bakugou had mellowed out and wasn't as egotistical.

But that was all hope.

Suddenly, Izuku felt a slight tug on the sleeve on his uniform. Akari looked up at him, her gloved hands shaking slightly as she lightly gripped his sleeve. “We need to go sit down,” she said, her voice quiet and heavy.

And so they did.


Akari sighed as she tapped her pencil against the soft wooden desk, her chin sitting in the palm of her hand. Despite both hands being covered by pale leather gloves and the metal on her face being covered by expertly applied makeup, she still felt exposed - like anyone could see what had happened.

As the science teacher blabbered on about the molecular structure of liquids compared to solids and gases, Akari spaced off for a few minutes, as she already knew everything.

There was a reason she was a general at fourteen, you know.

“-morebi? Ms. Komorebi!” The teacher - her name was something like Aoi, Akari thought, - called, her voice aggravated and annoyed. Akari sat bolt upright, causing Izuku to snort quietly at her reaction.

“Yes?” Akari said quickly, her voice even and composed.

Aoi sighed. “Can you answer the question? What is odd about the molecular structure of ice compared to that of a normal solid?” Akari rolled her eyes at the simplicity of the question.

“Well,” she began slowly, her voice flat and bored. “Ice’s molecular structure is, as previously stated, odd. This is because the molecules in ice move to form a very specific sort of pattern that actually takes up more space than a liquid, thus being the reason as to why water increases in volume once frozen. There is more space between the molecules, while in your typical solid - such as the wood on our desks or the blackboard, - the molecules are tightly packed together and don't take up much room.” Once Akari finished, Aoi stared at her in surprise.

“... We haven't even learned that yet,” Gyakori, the girl sitting next to Izuku, said. The entire class was silent as Akari gazed at Gyakori in confusion.

Akari took a deep breath. “I learned that two years ago - it’s one of the first odd molecular structures one learns.” Akari whipped around to face Aoi. “How long have you been on this unit?”

“Two months,” Aoi stammered, obviously flustered.

Izuku leaned back in his chair and over Akari’s desk and made eye contact, silent words passing between the two.

These people are idiots, Izuku said, rolling his green eyes. Let them live their underwhelming lives in peace.

Akari looked away curtly, obviously annoyed. Fine.


The next thing Izuku knew, after what felt like forever, was that the bell was ringing and Akari was dragging him up to a secluded stairwell to pick out of their meek bentos.

The two siblings sat on two different steps ten steps apart, silence filling the air aside from the occasional clatter of chopsticks. They never spoke to one another or even glanced in the other’s direction. The simply gazed straight ahead, absolutely silent. That is, until Izuku heard the almost silent tapping of someone coming down from behind them. He casually tapped his chopsticks in a specific pattern, informing Akari of an entity she was already aware of.

Simultaneously, Izuku and Akari jumped up and forwards, turning around midair to face the stranger. They stared ahead blankly, instinct and habit kicking their minds into overdrive. When Izuku remembered that they were at a fucking school, not a warzone, he tapped Akari’s shoulder to force her to relax as Bakugou stood over them, snorting at the duo’s reaction.

“What, you worked on that?” Bakugou snarled, obviously annoyed over nothing. “Why the hell do you two dweebs eat alone, anyway? You don't even talk to each other.”

Izuku opened his mouth and the words that escaped were cold and mechanical, drilled into his head since the day he was abandoned. “You’re most vulnerable when eating and sleeping, so being alone makes you prepared and more alert for any attacks. It also gives you fewer distractions as well as more time to react to a threat,” Izuku said, his voice flat and monotone.

Bakugou’s eye twitched ever so slightly, giving away his emotions. Izuku smiled, recalling one of Sun Tžu’s teachings: If your opponent is of temperamental nature, seek to irritate him. And that was only of his teachings.

Ah, The Art of War , written by the Chinese Philosopher and General Sun Tžu, is certainly something every person should read at least once.

At least make an effort to be cultured to some extent, please.

But we’re getting off track.


“I have a question for you, Deku,” Bakugou spat, waiting for a reaction, anything - a flinch, a twitch, any little tick to let him know that Midoriya, no, Hinata Izuku was still human.


Bakugou felt something shrivel up inside of him and die - was this his fault? Was it his fault that this kid has become desensitized to everything the world could throw at him? Or was it something else?

After a few seconds, Midoriya responded. “Yes?” He asked, his voice the same as the one he would use for a newly commissioned officer under his command.

Bakugou forced himself to take a feel breath before speaking, quiet tears attempting to force their way out over the fear of what he was going to ask. “What happened?” He asked, his voice quiet and broken. He watched as Midoriya - no, Izuku , - froze, everything locking and stiffening. Izuku’s eyes went wide, fear and sadness flooding through them.

“I-” Izuku started, his voice soft and hurt, a reminiscent memory he hated from his former life. Izuku turned his eyes to the ground, not wanting to show such vulnerability to his former tormentor. But when Akari placed her hand on his shoulder, he gave up. He began to cry.

It was the first time he had cried in over seven years.


Izuku stood up despite the tears streaming down his face, despite the pain searing through him from the burns and scrapes, Katsuki standing before him. “I-” He began, his voice trembling and weak. “I won’t let you hurt him,” Izuku said quietly, standing up once more despite his instincts screaming at him to run far away and not come back. “Not again.”

“Hah?” Katsuki spat, throwing his fist into the palm of his other hand with an explosion. “You’re gonna protect this good for nothing? You, a little quirkless Deku?” Izuku flinched at the name, causing Katsuki and his followers to laugh with glee. “See, I told you, Deku,” Katsuki sneered, his voice jeering and taunting. “Quirkless, worthless, stupid, useless good for nothings like yourself should just die.”

And finally, after five years of abuse, of torment, of not being good enough, he understood: All men were not created equal, but all men were created agathokakological. 

All men are composed of both good and evil, no matter the person.


As Akari and Izuku made their way down the street, the lights above flickering in and out like the light of a dying soldier, Akari pondered over Izuku’s story.

“All men were not created equal,” Izuku spat, tears rolling down his face in tidal waves. “But all men were created agathokakological.”

“All men are composed of both good and evil, no matter the person.”

Those two sentences had struck a chord in Akari’s hardened heart - a heart she didn’t even know she had. Her entire life, Akari had been a weapon. A tool. Something to be used, a machine, a perfect little puppet. That’s all she was.

… Right?


As he quietly opened the door to the apartment, Izuku heard screaming and yelling, along with the clattering and shattering of vases and frames. Silent as a cat, Izuku made his way into his room. When he entered, he saw a small, shivering figure crouched in front of the bed they shared.


Izuku moved forwards, enveloping his older brother in his arms. Despite being the younger sibling, Izuku was the stronger one. Mentally, at least. The two siblings sat there for who knows how long, at least until all was silent. After waiting a few minutes after the silence settled over the apartment, Izuku and his brother darted out and into the dining room, hastily picking up the shattered ceramic and glasses and mopping up the water spilled.

The only things they didn’t touch were the photos laying on the ground half charred and the five peonies, their petals strewn across the room.

His brother tentatively gripped Izuku’s sleeve, a silent message passing between the two.

They’re coming, he said, his grip slowly tightening on Izuku’s sleeve. We need to go. Izuku nodded discreetly. Thus, the two brothers gathered their school bags and their stash of money. They made their way out of the apartment and to the kiosk down the street, quickly purchasing some bandages, gauze, and disinfectant.

They knew what was coming.

The duo walked to the park, a quiet yet welcomed rain pouring from the sky. Izuku’s hair became plastered to his head, emphasizing exactly how gaunt and small he was, the same with @#*!). Izuku and his brother simply sat on the swings, not a single noise passing through the air aside from the distant bustling from the more populated areas, the constant drip from the rain, and the occasional creak from the rusty old swing set the two were perched on.

Slowly, the moon rose, drenching everything in sight in its light, causing everything to glow in that ethereal way, puddles flourishing and shining like stars in an ink black sky. As time slowly ticked by, Izuku raised his oriental viridian eyes to the sky, the light pooling in them divinely.

Eventually, the two had to go home, and they walked as slowly as possible, not wanting to return to that hell. But they had to, as they had nowhere else to go.

This time, Izuku didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was home, quickly tossing his bag and their purchases into the small cramped room he and @#*!) called theirs. With a sense of dignity, Izuku waltzed into the living room, only to be greeted by the starch scent of alcohol. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, not making a single sound until he cleared his throat and claimed, “I’m home.”

At those two words, his drunken father, Hinata Akihiko, rose from his seat on the couch and turned around. Unreasonable anger filled his eyes as he grabbed a whip from off the wall, a sadistic smile painted on that blank face. Akihiko approached Izuku menacingly, but Izuku stood his ground, his shoulders set determinedly. Akihiko unraveled the whip, snapping it once. The sound cracked through the air, but Izuku did not move.

Akihiko narrowed his eyes and raised his arm, the whip shifting to behind his back. With his other hand, he forced Izuku onto his knees as he brought his arm down.

A resounding crack rang through the apartment and all its inhabitants, not a single soul moving.

The expected scream of agony never escaped the victim’s mouth.



All men weren’t created equal, but all men were created agathokakological.


All men are composed of both good and evil, despite who they may be.






What does it mean to be human?





Chapter Text

And so, time moved on.

Izuku completed his third year of middle school, a step higher above the rest as they prepared for their new assignment.

Katsuki sat with his newfound knowledge about Izuku, never confronting him again nor asking his parents about what happened.

And Akari?

Akari had memories.


Shouta rapped on the door to the little apartment that had been provided for the officers, his actions slow with tiredness. He was wearing a pair of his obnoxiously bright sweatpants - the ones that were bright pink and may or may not have the word ‘juicy’ written on it’s ass in bold, golden, sparkly calligraphy (Courtesy of Midnight.) His hair was pulled back into a gorgeous fishtail braid decorated with baby’s breath and other white flowers, which contrasted with how much of a mess he looked.

So, when Midoriya Inko opened the door, you can imagine what her reaction was.

She raised her eyebrows, her eyes mischievous and humorous. “Well,” she started, her voice sounding like she was trying not to laugh, “that certainly is a look.” Shouta snorted before waltzing into the apartment past her, Inko sighing and starting to giggle softly to herself.

“Kids!” He yelled, his voice carrying throughout the hallways. “Get your asses in gear! We’re leaving in ten minutes!” Shouta waited for a reply, sipping at his tequila, bourbon, and two different types of coffee mix from his canister.

He got nothing.

So, Shouta shrugged and proceeded to plop himself down on the couch, causing Inko to full on start laughing.

About five minutes later, Midoriya came out wearing a white button down and black tie with black slacks, adorned by a tan trench coat.

Three minutes after that, Komorebi entered the room. She was wearing a black button down with a white and silver tie, a white pencil skirt, and vermillion pumps. Komorebi’s blazer was black, a white, sliver, and red emblem stitched on the shoulder. Her hair was curled ever so slightly, and her eyeliner was so sharp it could kill a man. Komorebi tossed Midoriya a silver and white briefcase, to which Midoriya caught with ease only practice, skill, and time could have.

They look prepared to take down a goddamn empire.

Shouta scrambled up, his appearance radiating the aura of a homeless man compared to the other two, who looked professional beyond belief. He felt a mess as he coughed under the dignified and elegant stare of Komorebi’s heterochromatic eyes, coldness dripping from her demeanor like an overflowing sink. “Let’s go,” he stammered, debating whether or not to clean himself up when they got to U.A.

He decided to go with it.

Midoriya nodded curtly before promptly leaving the apartment without a word, Komorebi following him shortly.

Shouta questioned every single life choice that had gotten him to this moment.


As he, Komorebi, and Midoriya all piled into the limo sitting idly by the curt, Shouta could feel the tension in the air pulling at whatever soul he had. What were they supposed to talk about? How was he supposed to act. Eventually, give or take ten minutes into the car ride, Shouta decided, Fuck it, I’m gonna rock this look like there’s no tomorrow.

Eventually, the limo pulled into U.A., stopping at the front door. Midoriya and Komorebi exited with ease while Shouta hit his head. Damn these short people, he thought, handing the two their ID cards and then walking into the building.

Now, a little bit of background on the relationship between U.A., the military, heroes, and the government: U.A. also acts as a military base as per request via the government as a way to hide and handle the more dangerous weapons and specialized units. Not many heroes know about this, but most do not approve, and have tried numerous times to get U.A. to remove these two things for the safety of the students. Thus, military officers can often be seen roaming the hallways any time of day.

So you can figure out what happened when two extremely high ranking officers walk into the school like they own the place on the same day they were supposed to completely erase their existence from the first years and clean the entire building and campus.

Mops clattered to the floor and rags were dropped, officers hurrying down to the floor in order to salute their commanding officers and superiors. Other bowed and some stood at attention, awaiting orders to sail at them. The amount of “Ma’am, yes Ma’am”’s and “Yessirs!”’s were mildly alarming, but Komorebi and Midoriya walked through the hallways with such grace and authority. Students, because yes, U.A. went hard and had classes all year all the time, the ones over break being optional, stared at the two officers with awe glazing their eyes as if they were larger than life entities; gods, if you wanted to go that far.

Shouta got odd looks from most of the staff, Kayama (Midnight) and Hizashi (Present Mic) laughing at how unrefined he looked compared to the two fourteen year olds next to him, Ishiyama (Cementos) quirked an eyebrow upwards and Sekijirou squinting at them to make sure he was seeing correctly.

All in all, Shouta was understandably ecstatic for the staff meeting they were heading to.


Izuku waltzed through the hallways, officers saluting and students gazing in confusion and awe. Akari walked beside him, three of her steps equivalent to one of his, the clatter of her pumps hitting the cold floor ringing in people’s ears.

At a glance, they were a force to be reckoned with.

Under more inspection, they were two human weapons capable of taking down the top hero.

But under everything, hidden away from the world, Izuku and Akari were simply two scared, injured, traumatized and weaponized children who don't know anything but war and bloodshed.

It was sad, really, Nedzu thought, sitting at his desk with dignity and elegance. Sad how his dear Field Marshal, who he used to be such good friends with, had destroyed two people for the sake of her petty little wars.

Truly, humans were a conundrum that would never be solved.


As Izuku and Akari walked into the room, all eyes snapped to them. It was odd - two fourteen year olds sitting in on a staff meeting at the top hero school on the eastern side of Japan. Nedzu almost snorted at how some teachers’ eyes widened with shock, unable to recognize the two outside of uniform and the front lines.

“Nedzu,” Power Loader started, confusion prominent in his body language. “Why are students here?”

Nedzu smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly. “These two,” he began, gesturing to the two fourteen year olds, “are some of Japan’s finest military operatives. You may know them as Nightmare and Daydream.”

At this, everyone in the room froze - Present Mic had some rice falling out of his chopsticks, halfway to his mouth, All Might was taking a sip from his coffee, Midnight had her arms spread open in a huge gesture, and Aizawa -

Was taped to the ceiling in his sleeping bag, a canister of his black as his soul coffee and tequila mixture tucked into his hands.

What the fuck?

So anyway, Nedzu gestured to the siblings, a motion for them to take a seat. “As of today, both Daydream and Nightmare shall be acting as a sort of defense mechanism - we place them in the class we believe will have the most trouble and let them protect them, along with the school as a whole. This will be occurring until further notice.”

“Nedzu,” Midnight said, her voice soft and considerate. “They’re children, they can’t -” She was cut off by the slamming of a briefcase on the long, sleek table, the sound echoing through the room. Everyone was silent as they looked up at Daydream, her posture perfect and intimidating.

Leaning on the table, she slammed her palm against the table with a resounding smack , her face only a few inches away from Midnight’s. “What the fuck did you just say,” she hissed, her heterochromatic eyes narrowed.

Midnight swallowed thickly, a nervous sweat breaking out. “I said that children can't protect people as well as adults or heroes.” Her eyes flickered to the side, fear sparkling in her deep irises. “They should wait their turn.”

Komorebi reached up and grasped Midnight’s chin with her hand, quiet rage rolling off of her in waves. “Listen here, Midnight,” she spat the hero’s name as if it were a curse. “Do you have a single damn idea about the life I’ve been forced to lead? The life Izuku has had forced on him? Do you know exactly how much we have been beaten bloody, stabbed, fucking shot for the sake of this damn country? A country that had cast us out, looked down on us just because we were forced to be used as weapons for these stupid wars, while heroes like every fucking person in this room basked in glory, fame, and riches.

“We, the military, have stayed in your shadows for years now, our victories overlooked and disregarded like a grain of rice. In interviews, heroes would talk about wanting to save people, to protect them from harm, while at the exact same time soldiers were being shot dead in the line of duty. You speak of saving people?” Komorebi said, her voice low and menacing. Midnight, along with every hero in the room, nodded solemnly.

“Then why the fuck didn't you save me? Save Izuku? Save Te-” Komorebi was cut off by Midoriya lightly grasping her arm. She turned her head gently, red and orange meeting green

Midoriya looked at his sister softly, his eyes speaking more than words could. “Akari,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle. “I think - I think they understand. You don't- don't have to… To explain what happened.” Midoriya’s voice cracked at the end, causing a pain in Nedzu’s heart. “Akari, please. They don't need to know.”

Silent words passed between the two, their eyes locked and wide. So many emotions a teenager should never have had to be exposed to - sadness, fear, guilt, such immense anger.


What had happened to them?

Chapter Text

Katsuki was having a good day. The Old Hag hadn't screeched her head off like a fucking banshee in a while, and Dad was as polite as ever. a quiet force to be reckoned with. It was his first day at U.A.’s hero course. It was a good day.

When Katsuki got onto campus, it was nothing special, aside from the fact that it was f u c k i n g U.A. So, as he was internally freaking out, Katsuki made his way to the first year branch and found his homeroom: 1-A.

This was gonna be a damn good year, he could feel it.

So, Katsuki slid open the huge ass door to the room and saw a few things:

  1. An extra he decided to name Glasses was just chilling in his seat looking like a robot and it was weird as fuck
  2. There was an extra with spiky red hair that seemed pretty decent
  3. Everyone was so loud and nice it was weird as shit

And that was it. Thus, Katsuki made his was past Glasses and Shitty Hair (The dude with the red hair.) to where his seat was - No. 17, like every year. Katsuki plopped down in his chair, hooking his bag on the provided hook on the side of the table and kicking his feet up onto the desk. And oh, Glasses was not going to have it.

“Excuse me!” He called, standing up abruptly. “My name is Iida Tenya,” information he didn’t need, okay! Time to zone out, “and I am from Somei Private Academy! I must say, it is quite the pleasure to be in the same class as the student who came first on the entrance exam, but I must chastise you - putting one’s feet on their desk is not befitting of a U.A. student. I request that you immediately remove them from the desk.”

Katsuki scoffed. So some top tier extra was telling him what to do, huh? “Fuck that, and fuck you,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Shut the hell up before I make you.” Glasses began to grumble again before starting up again, but Katsuki just tuned him out, scrolling through his Twitter feed while Glasses went off as other students filed into the room.

Eventually, every desk had someone sitting in it besides the one behind him and the one behind that. Honestly, it was rather strange. Everyone sat quietly, bickering softly amongst themselves as their teacher rolled into the room, slurping loudly from one of those applesauce packs he hasn’t seen since he was five or six. “Hey,” the teacher called out, and the class gradually quieted down. “It took you eight seconds to shut up. My name is Aizawa Shouta, and I’m gonna be your homeroom teacher this year, and the year after that, and the year after that, so get used to me. Y’all are gonna get changed into your gym uniforms and meet me out on the field, we’re -”

He didn’t get to finish.

The door was slammed open to reveal a tall, gangly dude wearing a black ski mask running into the room, heading towards the windows on the other side of the room. Aizawa seemed unfazed, doing nothing. What the fuck, Katsuki thought. Why the hell isn’t the damn insomniac doing anything? Suddenly, a gunshot rang in everyone’s ears, a bullet slicing through the open air and embedding itself in the back of the guy’s knee, his screech of pain echoing through the room as he flung open the window and jumped out of it.

A loud curse was yelled from the doorway as two figures, which Katsuki recognized as Midoriya Izuku and Komorebi Akari, - Deku and Trajectory, as he had come to address them, - dashed into the room, Trajectory pushing ammo into her pistol and aiming again as the man fell through the window. Squeezing the trigger ever so slightly, another bullet left the barrel of the pistol and landed in the man’s shoulder as he dropped from the room. As the two stood in the room, all eyes glued to them, Katsuki took note of the fact that instead of wearing U.A.’s uniform, Deku was wearing a black turtleneck and pants, a black trench coat with white detailing and a red, black, white, and silver patch on the shoulder, and white combat boots with steel toes and detailing up the sides. He wore blocky, deep, warm brown glasses that slid down the bridge of his nose and many, many scars adorned every inch of visible skin on him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Deku said, reaching into his jacket to pull out a goddamn grappling hook, shooting it so that it wrapped around the frame of the open window while linking arms with Trajectory. Suddenly, the two shot forwards and out the window, the strong metal cord of the grappling hook still connected to the window.

After a few minutes of silence following the two teens’ sudden entrance and exit, Aizawa simply continued on with his explanation like it was nothing.

And that begged the questions every student was probably thinking: Was that normal?




Akari and Izuku scrambled to the field, their coats still on over their gym uniforms. A steady chant of “Fuck, shit, fucking shit,” was escaping Izuku’s mouth, almost causing Akari to collapse from laughter. He almost never swore, and it was hilarious when he did.

Eventually, the two skidded to a halt, Aizawa turning his dry eyes onto them as both Akari and Izuku shrugged off their jackets and chucked them to the side of the field with the muted calls of yeet. “Kind of you two to join us, Midoriya, Komorebi.”

“Sorry, Sir!” They both called, their voices loud and clear as they clicked their heels together into attention, arms stiff and straight by their sides. Aizawa simply raised his eyebrows, a signal for the two to relax.

Aizawa sighed and rubbed his eyes, groaning slightly. “Kids,” he started, addressing the class. “This is Midoriya Izuku and Komorebi Akari. You may recognize them as the two dumbfucks who couldn't make it to homeroom on time normally.”

As the two waved hello, Akari could feel the eyes of one Bakugou Katsuki burning into them, but she simply didn't show it. After all, it was an all too familiar feeling she didn't want to address.

Not again.




Izuku watched as Bakugou sent the softball flying through the air, the sickly sweet scent of caramel flooding his senses. The ashen blonde panted, his eyes wide and wild. Everyone blinked while Izuku and Akari simply watched, their eyes analytical and indifferent. Aizawa looked at the device in his hand and casually read, “706.57 meters. This will be a standard physical fitness test, the only difference being that you are permitted to use your quirks. Understood?” After everyone nodded, people began with random exclamations.

“Damn, the hero course is so cool!”

“Did you hear what Bakugou got? 706.57 meters!”

“This is gonna be fun, I’m calling it!”

At that last remark, Izuku simply turned to Aizawa, who was now smiling sadistically. “Fun, you say?” His tone was menacing, causing everyone to shut up and turn to their homeroom teacher, their eyes wide with fear. Aizawa’s smile grew into a maniacal grin, his eyes bright with something most people wouldn’t understand or know how to describe. “Well then, is it fun when the person in last place gets expelled?”

And so, everyone carried on with the tests, fear, and worry instilled in their hearts.


As the other students wrapped up their tests and reviewed the scores, the boy with ink-black hair and odd elbows raised his hand. Aizawa sighed and called on him, using his eyedrops to ensure that he didn’t die. “How come Midoriya and Komorebi haven’t participated in the tests?”

Aizawa smiled. “Well, that’s because they got into U.A. through a different method that is being put on a trial run with these two: The A.O.I Recommendation system. Thus, they will be faced with many other things you will not. Be thankful, for these two students will have it much harder than you.”

“Yes, but what are they going to do today?” Elbows asked. I think his name was Sero Hanta, if I remember correctly, Izuku thought, his pinkie finger twitching. An old tick of his.

Aizawa smiled sadistically, the action sending a chill down his spine. “They need to complete an obstacle course while carrying an FN-17S rifle in the shortest amount of time they can manage.”

The entire class was stunned to silence while Aizawa drew out two black briefcases from nowhere, handing them to each of the generals. Izuku and Akari nodded their thanks stiffly before setting the cases on the ground and opening them up. Within the cases sat military grade FN-17S  model rifles, guns only the highest officers had access to. The black stained metal gleamed softly when the sunlight hit it, the barrel long and sleek. The trigger was a decent size - more on the larger size, but that was normal for rifles. These were heavy duty guns, made for executions and to get the job done quickly and efficiently. No waiting with these, aside from the fact that they were semi-automatic as a way to keep officers in line and from stopping them from going trigger happy.

Izuku reached out with a white-gloved hand and traced the outline of the rifle, getting a feel for it before picking it up with relative ease. His classmates looked at him in awe, as the gun in his hands appeared to be extremely heavy, and it was. Noting the targets set up, Izuku raised the barrel of the rifle and peered down the gun, aligning himself to where he wanted the bullet to land.

And he squeezed the trigger.

A loud bang erupted from the gun, the force of the bullet being pushed outwards causing Izuku to stagger ever so slightly. He watched as the 9-centimeter bullet sliced through the air, landing in the center of the target with a quiet thud. Lowering the gun, Izuku turned towards Akari, who was still staring down the gun in the case.

Moving towards his sister, Izuku gradually saw the absolute terror and guilt and anger and fear and sadness that flickered across her face. Worry sat in the bottom of his stomach as he peered over the top of the briefcase before gazing into the bow, his eyes widening as it landed on the gun sitting in the plush cushioning and padding surrounding it, the dried bloodstains Akari never bothered to remove wiped off. The gun was matte grey, the barrel extremely long and narrow, the entire thing there unlike before. The scope was no longer shattered to pieces, resting atop the gun perfectly balanced.

The trigger was no longer clogged with blood, and fresh ammunition was sitting beside the gun Akari had run away from for years. The gun that had rested on the wall of her room, a reminder as to what she had done, as to what she had become. It appeared our dear Field Marshal wanted the return of Daydream: The Sniper of Velocity and Trajectory, the human weapon.

Before Akari sat a B-14 SSGI, military grade sniper rifle.

The rifle made specifically for her.

The sniper rifle she had been running away from since that fateful day.

The day she went rogue.

Chapter Text

Akari stared at the rifle within the case, her eyes blown wide as memories swept over her like a vicious tidal wave.


Aizawa looked at her oddly, his eyes narrow and slim. Why, oh why did the Field Marshal and Nedzu insist on doing this to her?

(hewasntsupposedtodieshewasntsupposedtogethurtimsorryineverwantedthisplease im sorry)

“Is something wrong?” Aizawa asked, his words clipped and cold. He looked at Akari with a condescending look, a look that sent shivers down Akari’s spine.

She swallowed thickly, trying to suppress her trauma as blood pounded in her ears. “No, Sir.”

(imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryitsallmyfaultheshouldnthavedied it should have been me not them)

Aizawa growled quietly. “Then get on with it.” He gestured to the obstacle course, a bored expression plastered on his face. “We don’t have all day.” Akari took a deep breath and wrapped her hands around the gun, hoisting it upwards so that it sat in her arms. The metal was cold, letting out a soft clunking sound when it hit her prosthetic. Akari flinched ever so slightly so that it was barely visible, her eyes trained on her hands.

Akari turned to look at Izuku and she made a soft choking noise, gagging on thin air. Instead of seeing Izuku as he was, the world turned fuzzy and staticy, everything muted and shades darker than they actually were. Before her stood Izuku, his uniform covered in deep crimson stains that he vaguely registered as blood. He was scrawnier that he was now and was shorter, his hair plastered with dried and clotted blood. His face was pale and his eyes were wide, blood trailing from his hidden hairline down his face, steadily dripping down his chin and neck. Akari’s breath caught in her throat as she glanced downwards, her eyes locking on where his right hand was - or rather, where it used to be.

Said hand was laying on the ground next to him, surrounded by a pool of blood. She could faintly hear the screams of the people she had almost killed that day. The people she did kill.

The only two people that mattered.


Akari looked at Izuku warmly, her eyes pale, cold green and grey. The two were so much shorter - Izuku standing at 152.4 centimeters, herself at 146.304 centimeters. Izuku’s hair was so much shaggier, longer, and unkempt. He wasn’t nearly as muscular, but his eyes were brilliant and bright, shining with intelligence and warmth. His uniform was a deep navy, almost exactly like the ones from Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, because just Fullmetal Alchemist sucks. His freckles stood out against the plain grey sky that sat above them nearly daily, and the smile plastered on his face bright. She remembered this day clearly; the day they were promoted from colonel and lieutenant colonel to brigadier general and colonel. Akari remembered Izuku’s joy so clearly, as it wasn’t a sight that was often seen or heard.

He was so happy.

Akari turned to head to gaze out at the crowd, her eyes latching onto the only people who really understood what she had been through: Kurahashi Okamoto and Chichi Mika. They nodded, and a small, dark curly sensation called guilt blossomed at the bottom of her stomach. She turned to look at Izuku, sadness coursing through her veins at the thought of the brilliant smile on his face being wiped away once he realized what she had done.

What they had done.

(im sorry)


Akari approached the targets, raising the gun and peering through the scope, the red lines invading her sight causing a small stone of grief and anger and denial to settle in the soul. She clenched her teeth in an effort to push the memories and emotions away, to suppress them, to hide them in the very depths of her heart; a heart of steel. For all she was was a puppet, a tool, a weapon for her commanding officer to play with. That’s all she was and all she would ever be.



Her cold metal finger played with the trigger, fiddling with it as she contemplated which target to fire at. Finally, she aligned herself with the 600-meter target. Akari slowly squeezed the trigger as she swiftly dropped down to one knee, the bullet flying through the air at breakneck speed towards the target.

But then she noticed a target set 1000 meters behind her.

The bullet didn’t hit the 600.


A scream cut through the air following the first shot.

Everyone turned in unison towards the back of the crowd, their eyes wide as they watched Colonel Yamamoto - now Brigadier General Yamamoto - fall to the ground, the hole in the back of his head gushing blood. A sadistic smile crept onto Akari’s face, her eyes wild and insane, and as she tilted her head they glinted gold for a brief second.

Another scream, another shot, and pandemonium ensued.

Izuku whipped his head around to stare at Akari, knowing that only she would have been able to stage a coup this well. “Why are you doing this?” He asked, his voice barely audible above the shouts, screeches, and bangs of people getting shot and dropping dead. Akari simply smiled, turning away from the edge of the stage to look at him, the chaos behind her making everything seem like a scene straight out of an action movie. Akari, still smiling, spread her arms, and time seemed to slow down.

“Because,” she started, her voice inhuman and broken, as if she had been beaten bloody every day. The look on her face sent shivers down Izuku’s spine; it pained him to see his friend like this. “Of what they have done to us. We had no choice, and we still don’t - we were forced to wipe out entire civilizations, erase countries from maps with the snap of our fingers. We’re just puppets; stupid, broken children forced to fight in stupid, pointless wars. We are frowned upon by the public for doing our jobs, and we are frowned upon by our subordinates, colleagues, and superiors for doing our jobs.

“The military as a whole is frowned upon, shamed, insulted for doing our jobs and keeping the country safe while heroes, employed by the government, bask in riches, fame, and glory. They had the choice to do that. We didn’t. We were drafted, and yes, some enlisted, but not all were educated on what came with joining this. But, Izuku, you and I?” She cackled, throwing her head back. Izuku stared at her with shock, every grain of information sinking into his head and being processed slowly. In the back of his mind, a little voice whispered: She’s right. You know she’s right. You understand. You agree.

Akari looked him in the eye, her eyes burning silver as they shifted back to green and grey.

“We were sold. Bought. Commodities of this stupid thing we call politics. We are here because our own biology and family betrayed us when we couldn’t do anything. But we’re the only ones who have truly seen the horrors of war. Seen the only friends and family we have known drop at the click of a trigger, lost the only people who cared about us and who we cared about in return. So, I have one request for you, Izuku, as today is likely the day of my death.”

Akari’s inhumane and sadistic smile dropped and was replaced with a soft, quiet one instead. Her eyes no longer burned as he approached Izuku, her metal boots clanging softly against the stage. Akari’s metal arm reached out and gripped the collar of his jacket, jerking Izuku forwards until their shoulders were touching. Akari’s hot breath brushed against his neck as Izuku stared out at the pain, the chaos, the noise, the peace, the war, every little thing in the world. He could almost hear the smile in Akari’s words as she whispered them in his ear, an extremely loud and blinding white explosion soon following.

“Stay gold.”




Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.


Robert Frost

“Nothing gold can stay”


Chapter Text

“Komorebi,” Shouta said, his voice becoming snappish. He mentally flinched, remembering how Komorebi had gone off on Kayama the other day. “Hurry up.”

Shouta was honestly expecting more of a reaction from the red-headed girl, but all she did was nod and give a soft “Yes, Sir.” To his concern, despite looking barely distraught, she continued to lift the gun from the case and aim at the 600 meter target. Komorebi seemed to play with the trigger as she contemplated something.

Finally, she squeezed.

The bullet came racing from the barrel, traveling at breakneck speed. As it was about to hit the center of the target, it stopped in mid air. Shouta swung his head around to look at his student only to find her on one knee, the sniper rifle in her hands tilted downwards as she stared the bullet down with such focus.

Suddenly, the bullet flipped around and started heading towards the target behind her, weaving through the crowd of students surrounding Komorebi and Midoriya respectively.

Eventually, Shouta cancelled her quirk, but the bullet continued it’s path until it landed in the center of the target. A solid thud sounded, leaving the entire class speechless.

After about half a minute, Kaminari gave out a soft, “What the fuck.”

Yeah, that basically summed up everyone’s thoughts.

Shouta carefully inspected the soldier as she rose to her feet, completely disregarding the dirt on her pants and the blood steadily streaming from the corner of her mouth. Komorebi’s entire demeanor was setting off almost every red flag in his head, but he did nothing.

He really should have.


Akari took a deep breath, closing her eyes to think over everything that had happened.  Eventually, she turned to Aizawa. “Aizawa-sensei, do you think I could do the obstacle course another day? I have some things to think over.” All Aizawa did was nod curtly, but she noticed the faintest trace of concern hidden within his dark eyes. “Thank you.”  

“That being said, head back inside. Get lunch and then return to the classroom - you still have afternoon lessons,” Aizawa said, addressing the class as a whole. “Oh, and Midoriya, Komorebi, you have an independent study class in music wing. Don’t know why, all that I know is that your guardian requested you have that.”

Izuku smiled softly, his eyes glinting with intelligence. His features were gentle, the corners of his eyes crinkling and the corners of his mouth tipped upwards. “Thank you. So much,” Izuku said, bowed deeply.

And with that, they returned inside.


As Izuku carded his hands through Akari’s hair, bobby pins sticking out of his mouth as he tied it back into a sort of ponytail, Akari remembered everything that had happened over the past few years, leading up to her birthday. Or at least her alleged birthday - no one really knew when that really was.

“Nightmare, Nightmare! Nightmare, come in, please!”

“I won’t lose you like I lost him, Daydream.”

“Komorebi! Major General Komorebi, please, stay with us! Please!”

“Please, don’t do this to me, please, oh please, please! I promise, it won’t happen again!”

“You don’t have a choice, Lieutenant General.”

“I never said I was unbreakable, Akari. I may be bulletproof, but that doesn’t mean that I am not unbreakable.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?!”

“I never meant for this to happen!”

“I should have been me! It should have been me, not them!”

“You shouldn't have disobeyed me, Daydream.”

“You know what happens to bad subordinates, right?”

“You of all people should know. Should understand.”

“You failed.”

"You fucked up.”

“It’s your fault.”

“It’s your fault they’re dead, Akari.”

“I expected more, Brigadier General.”

Akari opened her eyes with a shiver running through her arm down to her fingertips, her breath slightly ragged at unstable. Izuku’s hands were hovering in the air, Akari’s hair still entwined in his fingers. “You good, ‘Ri?” Izuku asked, his voice soft and delicate.


“Why didn’t you save him?!”


Akari swallowed thickly, the motion not escaping Izuku’s observant eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice strained at faint. Izuku accepted the answer without question, but simply finished doing Akari’s hair and then proceeded to slip a pair of extremely good noise cancelling headphones over her ears.

Turning her eyes towards her colleague, Akari found herself listening to Sergei Rachmaninoff's piano rendition of Liebeslied , more commonly known as ‘Love’s Sorrow,’ overlapped with Fritz Kreisler’s violin piece, Liebesfreud , or ‘Love’s Joy.’

And so, the two rose to their feet and headed to class.

But that didn’t mean that the screams of her victims, the words spat at her by her superiors, subordinates, and colleagues, the ashamed comments spoken whispered in her ear, the screeches of sadness and anger being thrown at her simply disappeared.

No, Akari had never been that lucky.

If she had had any form of good luck, she would have been killed on the front lines already.


And so, the day continues.

Izuku and Akari head to class, unquestioned as they arrive late aside from the cold and concerned eyes of their homeroom teacher.

The students are introduced to their teachers for each core subject: Present Mic for English, Cementoss for mathematics, Midnight for quirk and art history, and Snipe for science and biology. They are also introduced to a short lady with pastel green hair and eye, thin glasses, and who is also radiating vibes that say “I can kill you if I want so take a fucking step back.”

They find out her name is Midoriya Inko, the school therapist.

Imagine how that went.


Suddenly, lunch and their free period rolled around. The students shuffled around in extremely obvious groups - The Bakusquad, consisting of Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Ashido Mina, Jirou Kyoka, Kaminari Denki, and Sero Hanta, and The Dekusquad, consisting of Midoriya Izuku, Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu, Iida Tenya, Tokoyami Fumikage, Shouji Mezou, Aoyama Yuga, Yaoyorozu Momo, and a few others. But there were two students who were not obviously a part of these groups: Todoroki Shouto and Komorebi Akari.

Everyone chatted and laughed, exchanging discord IDs and making servers. It was pretty chaotic as they shuffled to the lunchroom. Yet as soon as he got lunch, Akari grabbed Izuku by the arm and swiftly choralled him into the music room.

The room was sleek and minimalistic, a set of risers folded by the wall and some shelves for instruments. There was a piano sitting on the right side of the room and drum set on the other. There was some staff paper scattered across the floor, but overall it was fairly neat. Light filtered through the large top to bottom windows facing the outside, dust particles floating softly around the room.

It was obvious that the place hadn't been used in a long time, considering how musty it was. All the sheet music looked old, and the keys of the piano were turning a light ivory. The drums were covered in dust, the sticks dark and old.

As Akari and Izuku stood in the doorway, taking in the sight, Akari began to rifle through her bag, looking for the newest sheet music she had made. When she found what she was looking for, Akari handed a set to Izuku, and then made their way inside. Izuku settled in the seat of the drumset, picking up the sticks and tapping the rim of the snare drum a few times. He hummed, barely satisfied by the sound.

Akari trailed her hands over the keys of the piano, pressing down on middle C with grace. The sound was haunting, the legs of the piano creaking with age. Akari frowned and made her way to where an electric guitar sat, picked up the guitar, and plugged it into the amp at a low setting. She strummed once, the sound echoing through the room, and smiled at Izuku.

This was going to be fun.


Kyoka felt her earjacks vibrate, proving her theory that someone was playing music. Standing up abruptly, she gathered her items and sprinted in the direction of the noise. She could hear the sound of her classmates’ shoes clattering against the sleek tile floors, them following her as she weaved through the hallways.

As the music grew in sound, Kyoka noted that it was a guitar, drums, and someone singing. She didn't recognize the song, thus assuming it was an original.

Suddenly, Kyoka came to a stop in front of the music room simultaneously with the music, the people inside pausing and chatting for a few seconds. She caught a few snippets, one saying “You should repeat the riff there, I think it’d sound pretty good,” and the other replying with, “Can you add the crash here, there, and here? Oh, and use the bass at the end.” As the two started up again, Kyoka threw open the door.

Inside was Midoriya Izuku sitting at the drums, blasting out a rhythm with the expertise only someone who had been playing for years could have. The other was the enigma of the class: Komorebi Akari. She was standing facing the right wall, doing a guitar solo as her fingers flew over the keyboard.

After a stunning solo, they began the chorus again. Komorebi opened her mouth, and Kyoka was half expecting her to stumble or sound horrendou, but Kyoka was oddly mistaken.

Komorebi had one of the best damn voice’s she’s heard in years, and the lyrics presented the idea that she and Midoriya hadn't lived the easy lives that their classmates had.

“Can anybody hear me? I’m standing right here

Please tell me you can see me

I don't want to cry all alone anymore

Somebody please tell me that you can hear me.

Hear my echo, hear my echo whoa

Hear my echo, hear my echo, whoa.”

And with that, the bass hit, the last chord was strum, and there was silence. Both Komorebi and Midoriya were panting, sweat dripping slowly down their foreheads.

Kyoka, in awe, raised her hands and began to clap furiously, her eyes wide. Komorebi whipped her head around to stare at her, only to be greeted by the entire class staring in wonder. “That was amazing,” She said, the words escaping from under her tongue before she registered them.

Komorebi flushed awkwardly, putting the guitar away before leaping out the window and escaping into the wilderness. Midoriya laughed lightly, the corners of his lips turned up in a soft smile. “I’m sorry about her. She gets flustered really easily when it comes to preforming,” he said, his voice light and airy.

“It’s fine,” Kyoka said, grinning like a madman. “A lot of people have stage fright.”

Midoriya threw his head back and laughed in a way that oozed elegance, which was weird coming from a drummer. “It’s weird, though. She can argue like a politician and fire a gun with such grace and ease, but preforming is the last thing she can do.”

Suddenly, Midoriya’s phone rang. He picked it up and smiled at the screen, clicking answer and putting it on speaker. “Are they gone?” the voice, presumably Komorebi’s, said. “Cause if they aren’t, I'm going home.”

“Nah, they’re still here.”

“Ah, fuck. I can't believe you’ve done this, Nightmare.”

“You love me.”

“Debatable. Anyway, I’m going to the market, so what do you need?”

“Can you get some ice cream and bananas? Oh, and chicken cutlet. I’m making katsudon tonight.”

“Okay, see you later!”

“Bye.” And with that, the final bell rang.

Chapter Text

Izuku wandered down the streets, weaving through crowds as he slowly made his way to the spot where he and Akari always met: a small, secluded cafe with amber stained windows that went from the floor to the ceiling, making a wall. As Izuku opened the door, he was greeted by a pair of tired purple eyes staring glumly at him.

Standing in the doorway, Izuku let his eyes flicker around, taking in the sights he had seen so many times. “You good?” The purple barista said, quirking an eyebrow upwards. Izuku smiled softly, adjusting his jacket.

“Yeah, just… tired. Today was rough,” he said, raising his arm to scratch the back of his head in feigned drowsiness. Blend in, Izuku. You’ve been doing this your entire life, this isn’t the time to suddenly be unable to do so. “Anyway, you’re new here, right? Do you know if Kai is around?”

Purple-eyes turned around and called, “Kai? You here?”

“Yeah, sorry! Is Izuku here? He’s kind of short -”

“I’m fucking offended.”

“Has literally a million freckles, and green eyes and hair.”

The boy turned to look at him, inspecting every inch of his body. “Yeah, I would assume so. Why?”

"Make him a cup of coffee blacker than your soul and then toss in some tequila, bourbon, and five-hour energy.”


“Just do it, kid. He’s a regular.”

Purple hummed slightly and then turned around to the whirring machine behind him, pulling some levers and pushing some buttons, shoving various beans into the thing. “So you’re a regular?”

“Yeah,” Izuku replied, scrolling through the discord for Spec. For. 1. “Why? You new?”  

The purple boy nodded, bending down to take out some alcohol and energy drinks. “Yep. Your name is Izuku, right?”

“Midoriya, actually. Midoriya Izuku.” The corners of his lips turned down ever so slightly for the briefest of moments. “And you are..?”

“Shinsou Hitoshi, a pleasure to meet you.”

Their conversation flourished from there, the two hitting it off from the moment they started to talk about Dungeons & Dragons. The subject of quirks seemingly never came up in casual conversation, which Izuku was extremely thankful for.

But suddenly, the door to the quiet cafe slammed open, revealing a girl drenched in rainwater, her white cropped jacket soaking. She was wearing a pair of pastel pink shorts with black leggings underneath, heeled lace-up boots making her almost as tall as Izuku. Her shirt was a black turtleneck tank top, and she was wearing a cropped white windbreaker with black stripes going from the collar to the ends of the sleeves. Round wire-framed glasses adorned her face, which was flushed and was decorated with pale dots like constellations. Strangely, Izuku didn’t recognize her as Akari until words left her mouth.

“I need a cup of flower tea, stat.”

A moment of silence followed her words, then shortly accompanied by a quiet chuckle from Izuku, who reached behind the counter to grab a warm towel. Izuku tossed the white cloth at Akari, who began to dry herself quickly. “What the hell happened?” Izuku asked, sipping on his concoction of alcohol, five-hour energy, and coffee.

“Car splashed me with the rainwater from a few hours ago,” Akari grumbled, sitting down in a chair as she plopped her bag down on the floor next to her leg. “I feel like I’m dying.”

Shinsou raised an eyebrow. “You know her, Midoriya?”

Izuku chuckled. “Yeah. We’re siblings.”

“Even a stranger would know that you aren’t siblings,” Kai said, strolling out from the storage room.

Kai has pale blonde hair that was shaven on the sides but long on the top, causing confusion amongst strangers when she informed them that she was in fact female. Her shoulders were broad, her build balancing out her height. A scar that trailed from the base of her neck up to the left corner of her mouth decorated her face, the pale scar tissue matching the paleness of her eyes.

Kai chuckled softly, her scarred hand pouring out some hot water and dropping a few tea leaves and flowers into a mug. When she was finished, Kai turned around to look at her customers. “Yikes, you look like a mess, Akari.”

Shinsou snorted. “Your name is Midoriya Akari? Green Valley’s Light?”

“No, no, I don’t have the same last name as Izuku. My name is Komorebi Akari.”

“Komorebi Akari… Sunbeams’ Light,” Shinsou said, smiling softly. “It suits you.”

“Shinsou Hitoshi,” Izuku said. “Truthful People.”

Shinsou looked surprised, those deep purple eyes widening ever so slightly. “Alright then”

Akari smiled too, an expression not often found on the general’s face. “Kai Owari: Meeting The End. That’s ominous.”

“Doesn’t suit me, does it,” Kai said, barking out a warm laugh. “Besides, not every name suits someone.”

Izuku frowned. “What about mine? Green Valley… Long Time? How does that work?”

“I think,” Akari started, taking her glass mug from Kai. “That it means ‘The green valley shall exist for a long time.”

“Then what about Hinata Izuku?”

Akari frowned, as she knew about what had happened to Izuku before he was picked up by Yamamoto. “Hinata: Sunny place, toward the sun. Izuku: Long time. Hmm… How about ‘The sunny place shall exist for a long time?’”

Izuku smiled softly, thinking of his brother.

“Yeah. I like that.”

Chapter Text

Izuku leaned back in his chair, adjusting his tie ever so slightly. “Okay kids, today’s gonna be focusing on basic hero fundamentals. Now,” Aizawa said, unzipping himself from his obnoxiously yellow cocoon to stand up. “While I am not your teacher, please refrain from murdering one another while not in my presence. Got it?” Without waiting for an answer, Aizawa simply opened one of those jelly pouches, grabbed his sleeping bag, and waltzed out the door. What the fuck, Izuku thought, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Eh, whatever.

“I AM HERE!” A boisterous voice suddenly called from the back of the room, causing Izuku to flinch and whip around in the blink of an eye. “To teach about basic hero fundamentals!”

While Izuku and Akari stared in confusion, everyone else seemed to know him immediately. “Oh shit!” Kaminari yelled, standing up in his excitement.

“No way!” Ashido screeched, followed by a quick comment. “I knew he was teaching but I thought that it’d be with the third or second years!”

Everyone was going wild, causing the pandemonium to grow at a steady rate. Eventually, the room quieted, but not before Izuku raised his hand to pop the question. “Who is this?”


His fellow classmates froze, shock written on their faces. They slowly turned towards him, their eyes wide. “How do you not know him? He’s the number one hero!” Uraraka said, her voice faint with shock. At this, Akari whipped out her phone and googled, ‘whos the number 1 hero japan.’ After a second, her eyebrows shot upwards as she handed the phone to Izuku.

As Izuku took her phone, he watched as Akari stood up, withdrew a blanket out of seemingly nowhere, crawled under her desk, wrapped herself in the strangely fluffy blanket, and began to cry. Obviously unsettled by the girl’s reaction, Izuku slowly began to read the Wikipedia article, his eye steadily beginning to twitch in irritation.

After a solid five minutes of silence - with the exception of Akari’s quiet sobbing, - Izuku chucked the phone at the pro hero’s head, grabbed his stuff, and stormed out of the room.


Toshinori burst through the door, yelling his catchphrase, “I AM HERE!” as the students rose to their feet as well as their voices.

“Oh shit!” One of the yelled, Kaminari Denki, his mind supplied.

A girl with pink skin and dark sclera, Ashido Mina, screeched. “No way! I knew that he was teaching, but I didn’t think it would be the first years! This is great!”

As everyone, in their excitement, began to yell and talk with one another, Toshinori noticed two students by the window looking confused. The two looked familiar, but he couldn’t place his finger on where he had seen them. The undercut mop of green curls resting atop of oriental viridian eyes, the flaming red hair cascading over pale skin… He knew it from somewhere.

But where?

Eventually, the one with the green hair asked who Toshinori was, which surprised both him and the class. “He’s the number one hero,” Uraraka Ochako whispered, causing the one with porcelain skin to take out her phone. After a few moments, she handed the phone to the other, and proceeded to curl up under her desk and sob as the other took the phone from her and scanned the screen.

Following five minutes of tension so thick one could cut it with a knife, the green child suddenly threw the phone at Toshinori’s head, anger burning in his eyes as he grabbed his belongings and stormed out of the room, leaving the other to cry alone.

Toshinori swallowed thickly as the students gawked at the boy’s exit, sweat slowly finding its way down his forehead. “I’m going to check on him,” he said, making his way towards the door.

“No, you aren't,” a voice said, causing Toshinori to turn around. Before him was the red headed girl, her eyes burning into his own.

His eye began to twitch ever so slightly, a quiet anger blossoming in his stomach, yet he kept his composure. “What do you mean?” Toshinori asked, barely keeping his anger from bleeding into his voice.

“What I mean,” the girl began, tucking her hair behind her ear. She blinked, causing green and grey eyes to turn red, flakes of gold decorating the edges of her irises. “Is that my name is Komorebi Akari, and the boy who just left is my brother, Midoriya Izuku. Dont,” she said, holding up a hand, “question why we have different surnames. It’s none of your goddamn business.”

She took a deep breath, licking her lips. “We both have a lot of repressed anger and other emotions, and I suggest that you don't take that lightly. We haven't had it nearly as easy as you,” Komorebi spat the last word as she made a quiet and steady approach. When she was standing in front of Toshinori, Komorebi grabbed a small metal object off the closest desk and tapped if a few times against her left arm. “So trust me when I say that you don't want to be in a room with Izuku without someone else there who will make sure he doesn't… You know.”

“What are you suggesting, Miss Komorebi?” Toshinori asked, his eyes flickering to the students watching the exchange and murmuring amongst themselves.

Toshinori took this time to inspect the girl in front of him. Her hair was long on one side and shaved on the other, numbers branded onto the side of her head. She was extremely short, and her skin was so pale it looked as if she was made of the finest china, beautiful but delicate. Yet, despite her appearance, her eyes burned with so many different things, so many emotions Toshinori couldn't pin.

“I am suggesting that I go with you to find him. I have an inkling of an idea as to where he is.” Komorebi said, backing away slightly, her eyes turned towards the floor. Her voice sounded childlike and so broken, as if she was talking about the only thing she had left.

Maybe because Midoriya is all she has left, a dark voice in Toshinori’s head whispered, a soft yet maniacal laugh escaping and vibrating through his skull. A chill was sent down his spine at the idea that this girl had close to nothing, except for the clothes on her back, the items in her bag, and her brother.

The idea was disturbing, to say the least.

But finally, as he and Komorebi left the room, he remembered where he had seen them.


Toshinori smiled as he chewed on the pork bun, the steam rising like a snake in the cold winter air. Nana walked beside him, her hero costume replaced by a soft green hoodie and leggings. Her hair was down completely, the dark strands falling over her face. “This is really good,” Toshinori said, turning his head to meet his master’s eyes. He really should get used to her being out of costume. Afterall, she was almost retired.

“It sure it,” Nana said, grinning like a madwoman. She proceeded to completely devour her pork bun in a matter of seconds, a little bit of dough sticking to the corner of her mouth. The two laughed as they made their way down the street, conversation flowing easily between them. “Say, Toshi,” Nana said suddenly. “Do you have any family?”

Toshinori averted his eyes immediately, deciding to finish his pork bun instead of answering. Yet Nana waited patiently for his answer, a soft smiled stuck on her face. “Well,” he finally said, his voice shaking slightly. “My parents abandoned me, and I had a sister.”

“Had?” Nana asked, curiosity piqued.

“Had, as in she died,” Toshinori quickly amended.
“Last month, actually.”

Nana, instead of simply shrugging it off, pulled Toshinori into her side, wrapping her arm around him. “I have a son,” she whispered after a few minutes of heavy silence, her voice cracked and weak. “His name was Akihiko. I-” She cut herself off, quiet tears streaming down her face.

“I had to abandon him. It wasn't safe for him to stay with me, and you know why. But that was probably the worst decision of my life. I finally reached out to him, and turns out he had two kids. Took a new name. Found a good woman. He’s happy-” Nana was abruptly cut off by the sight of a boy with a mop of green hair being shoved out the door, blood gushing from a cut on his forehead. He had various other wounds, each extremely big.

The boy had a small bag with him, presumably with some belongings, clothes, and food. Toshinori felt Nana freeze beside him as her eyes took in the name plate beside the apartment mailbox, her expression morphing into one of pure horror. The sign read ‘Hinata.’ “No,” Nana whispered, grief and guilt clouding her eyes.

“Are you ready to go, Hinata?” A small voice called from behind the two adults. Toshinori turned to find a tiny girl standing in front of two military officers, her hands folded neatly behind her. “We need to get to base by morning.”

The girl had heterochromatic eyes, each glinting in the moonlight above. She had burning red hair that made her china skin seem warmer, porcelain freckles forming constellations on her cheeks. The look in the girl’s eyes was painful to look at, a cold, calculating, intelligent numbness burning like a golden inferno within. She looked like a doll.

The boy - Hinata, - scrambled to his feet, putting more weight on his right leg than his left. “Yes, Komorebi,” Hinata said, pushing between Toshinori and Nana.

Komorebi smiled, the expression creepy on the doll’s face. It was unsettling. “Perfect,” she hissed between her teeth.

And then they left.

Chapter Text

So. I would like to address some things concerning this fic such as the special force Izuku and Akari work with, the era this takes place in, and the words I have used in this fic. If you have no issues thus far into the story, great, but someone did point some things out to me that I now feel like I should address. 

This fic takes place 200 years forward from present day, meaning that in their time it's 2216 (I'm pretty sure - I can't math). This means that technology, society, schooling, government, and military in Japan have all changed along with the world's major events and politics. I had a comment that pointed out reasons as to why there would be no fighting in Vietnam like I have stated in an earlier chapter. There are very specific reasons as to why there is fighting there which I will not be disclosing, as that is important to the storyline. However, if you truly need to know, I urge you to comment below and I will explain it. 

Another issue that someone had was my wording when describing the characters and their appearances. General Nakamura, from chapter one (not the prologue, mind you), was described as, and I quote, " of the many officers of color in the Japanese military, but he was one of the few officers to have reached a high ranking like general." I understand that all people are technically people of color, but I simply wanted to emphasize the fact that he had a darker skin tone in comparison to those around him to add contrast to the scene. Also, I did not mean that Nakamura was tan, I meant to say that he was Nigerian, but I couldn't find a good way to mention that without disrupting the mood of the setting. 

I would also like to address that this story is completely fiction and that, when writing the previous chapters, did not think that anyone would bring up how not everything matches up with modern day and past political issues.

I also use the word 'oriental' as a way to describe Izuku's eye color, and not his eyes themselves. The shade of Izuku's eyes is oriental viridian, which is a darker shade of green. If I caused any confusion by using this word, I deeply apologize and hope that this cleared that up. 

Furthermore, going back to how it's 200 years later and how thing have changed, I would like to note that due to rising tensions between certain countries (I'll get to that later in the fic, but I will provide answers in the comment section if you ask), a new and more specialized force that works in espionage and assassination was formed. They also work in other fields when necessary. This is the special force I continually mention in the story and does not actually exist in the present day Japanese Military.

I apologize if I have caused anyone confusion or have offended anyone with my words. I just wanted to clear that up. If you have any extremely in-depth questions about the fic, I suggest that you join my discord sever so that we can have a conversation more focused on that subject.

Thank you for your time, and I apologize if this entire notice sounds more like an essay and bored you to death. 

Have a nice night, my flowers.

- garden 

discord server ->

p.s. about the next chapter - it's going to involve some of my own political opinions about certain subjects such as female rights, a few things about the LGBTQ+ community, and more. this is just a heads up on that. soo yeah. that about covers it.


Chapter Text

As the hero and the general made their way down the hall, students and teachers alike eyed the odd pairing skeptically, confusion clouding their eyes. The two walked swiftly and silently, like ghosts wandering the streets of Tokyo at night. Eventually, they reached Nedzu’s office, Komorebi rapping on the door before entering, announcing her presence quietly. The scene they walked in on though was… mildly concerning, to say the least.


Midoriya had his hands slammed on Nedzu’s desk, his face calm with rage burning in his eyes. A quiet anger filled the room, causing Toshinori to bite his bottom lip in mild fear for his life. “Do you not have any mind for your students?” Midoriya said, his voice low and menacing.


“I certainly do, Midoriya, but what does this have to do with Yagi Toshinori?” Nedzu said, his hands folded neatly on top of the dark stained mahogany.


“This man,” Midoriya hissed, drawing upwards to his full height, “has destroyed what the military has become, stolen our accomplishments, and thrown us under the bus for his stupid mistakes. He has no right to be teaching the future generation. Besides, he doesn’t even have a degree in teaching.”


Nedzu frowned. “That is… Actually correct. However, I cannot afford to fire him and ruin U.A.’s appearance.”

“Oh please,” Komorebi scoffed, stepping forward. “All that people these days, including heroes, care about is money, fame, glory, and your image. It is truly a tragedy. Truly. Even your so-called Symbol of Peace only cares about those things. After all, he is willing to talk about how heroes risk their lives everyday for the public while they lounge around in their glamorous apartments, living the lives people work so hard for while they simply waltz around the city for a few hours. At the same time as people getting shot and murdered and raped and denied so many things and discriminated against over things they cannot control.


“Our society relies too heavily on these people, people who are there simply for appearances. And I am so. Done. With everything that they have pulled over the years. Fucking up on the front lines and causing thousands of casulaties, patrolling the sections of the city that are more populated and have less crime for the press. These people only care about money and power. They speak of equality while doing nothing to stop the discrimination against people of color, females, the LGBTQ+ community, and so many more that I don’t even know about. They preach peace and equality and that ‘everyone can be a hero,’ yet they do not practice this.


“This is what our society has come to. And it needs to stop. It isn’t even just the military and heroes, it’s almost every single government out there. And I am so tired of it. Besides, that’s just scratching the surface,” Komorebi finished, her voice growing more shaky as she continued. “Corruption is such an old song that everyone can sing along in harmony and no where is stronger than amongst humanity. There are so many problems with the way the world is ran, and it needs to be fixed before we all fall apart.”


A heavy silence fell over the room like a mother draping a blanket over her child. Everyone was stiff, the girl’s words striking them like lightning. This girl, someone who had seen the worst in so many people, a teenager who has seen the horrors of the world, just addressed so many problems and told off the governments of so many countries. Toshinori was honestly shocked how a simple complaint escalated to calling people out and talking about huge issues, but he was glad that someone actually cared.


Nedzu finally unclasped his hands (still not sure ‘bout that one,) and hopped down from his chair, walking around the tall desk. “Komorebi, I understand, but appearances still matter. U.A. plays a huge role in today’s politics and government, and-“


“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Midoriya suddenly spat, anger filling the usual void in his eyes like a whirlpool. “Heroes should have close to no say in what happens concerning laws and legal matters, but should act as an aid to the police department. And there are so many heroes that abuse their power to get whatever they want - honestly, the heroes are more corrupt than the villains.”


Nedzu froze, a calm smile adorning his features. “Midoriya, Komorebi, I must say, no one I have ever met has ever said that to me. I, however, have a question; why do you both believe this?”


Silence fell over the room once again as the two officers looked at one another, shock painted across their faces. Toshinori smiled at this - perhaps they were starting to come around to the notion that not all people were corrupt.


After about three minutes, Komorebi three her head back and barked out a cold, careless laugh that struck everything Toshinori thought was happening down.


“Why, you ask? Well, I’ll give you an answer. Because the word ‘agathokakological’ exists. It means ‘composed of both good and evil,’ and thus, that applies to all people. Yin and Yang’s philosophy; all good has evil in it, and all evil has good in it. Heroism is full of contradictions, and so is villainy. Even fucking Sonic has condradictions,” Komorebi said, rolling her eyes. Midoriya squinted at her, confusion clouding her gaze. “Christ, Nightmare, you really need to watch Unraveled. So basically there are these things called Chaos Emeralds that are like, a physical form of all the gross and horrible shit people do, and this dude wants to launch them into space. At the end of the day, launching them into space would get rid of all that gross stuff, which would benefit the masses. Except, in the game, you need to stop the dude from launching them into space, thus allowing people to do things like litter and abuse people and be complete and utter assholes. This is a fucking video game.


“Heroes and villains have one thing in common: They do what they think is right. Villains often try to rip apart the government and rebuild it with the intention of creating a more just and fair society. Heroes do whatever they can to ensure that peace and prosperity is sustained, thus destroying the chances of our government and society being repaired and fixed compared to the mess it is now. Both sides are trying to do what they think is right. Thus, technically, everyone, even heroes and villains, have both bad and good within. Our entire society is a contradiction at this point, and it isn’t just Japan. It’s the whole world, and no one had bothered to do anything about it aside from slapping labels on one another and screeching about beliefs,” Komorebi said, her unblinking gaze staring into Nedzu’s soul. “And that’s just dipping our toes into the shallows.”


And with that, Komorebi grabs Midoriya’s arm and leaves. Nothing said, nothing done.


Just a quiet rage inside a bird cage.

Chapter Text

Izuku sat down in his seat, his muscles stiff and his eyes dry. After his and Daydream’s outburst with Nedzu, he felt drained, and there was still the field exercise that they had to complete. 

All Might coughed into his hand and began to explain the coming exercise to his students. “Hello! As you may have noticed, I am going to be your Fundamental Heroics teacher for this coming year! Now, as for today’s exercise - we will actually be having a few guests coming in to help out today. Usually, this exercise is saved for second and third years, but for various reasons I cannot disclose, we will be going over military procedures. Now, you will not be needing your costumes today, so go and change into your gym uniforms! Meet me at Field Delta! GO BEYOND!” All Might finished extravagantly, waiting for a reply. 

“PLUS ULTRA!” The entire class screamed with the exception of Todoroki, Akari, and himself. 

And with that, everyone raced down to the locker rooms to get changed.


Izuku made his way out to the field, trailing behind his excited classmates with Akari a step behind him. He didn’t get it - why was everyone so excited for something they would be doing three or four times a week? They would get to participate in exercises all the time. Maybe they were this… Hyped up because it was their first? Izuku was snapped out of his thoughts when Akari shoved him forward slightly as a test of balance, and Izuku ended up face-planted in the dirt.

Pushing himself off the ground, Izuku looked at Akari with an offended look on his face that clearly emanated “What the fuck, stop being a bitch,” vibes, and then proceeded to get up and wipe the dust and dirt off of him. Akari cackled like a madwoman, a huge grin plastered onto her face. 

“ALRIGHT!” All Might boomed once everyone had arrived. “Today, as I said before, we will be having a class in military procedures! We are also having a group of specialized people from the military coming in to help teach! Everyone, please welcome the Speci-” 

“QUICK, ANDY’S COMING!” A voice from behind yelled, causing 1-A to collectively turn around and see a group of seven people in military uniforms collapse to the ground, one of them - who was wearing a blank white mask and had toffee black hair - still standing and shaking their head. 

Izuku’s eyes widened as Akari let out a groan, her head tilting back to face the sky as she let out a sad whimper as she came to terms with who would be helping the class today. 

Special Force 1. 

Their force. 




Akari groaned loudly. She had never wanted to die more that she did at that moment. Finally returning her head to where it should be, Akari looked at holy shit why is the Field Marshal here oh god this is where I die isn’t it. 

“Hello,” the Field Marshal said, their voice distorted through the voice changer they wore. “We are Special Force 1, a specialized unit full of absolute idiots who are strangely good at their jobs.” 

Immediately, the other six in the group were on their feet, standing at parade rest. At least they can get their asses in gear when it counts, Akari thought bitterly. “We will now tell you our call signs - names similar to hero aliases. I am Phoenix.” 

“Kingpin!” the man at the end of the line said, whipping into attention as he said his callsign. Kingpin had black hair that was pulled back into a high bun, a scar running from his jaw down to the base of his neck. He had a stoic face which contrasted deeply with his personality.

“Ghost,” Another said, his hair black and spikey. Ghost had piercing blue eyes and appeared to be 80% burn tissue stapled together badly. Todoroki stiffened when he looked at him, and Ghost’s eyes widened ever so slightly before returning to parade rest.

“HacKEr,” said a woman, her short, bobbed blonde hair framing her face. How the hell did Hacker say her name like that? Hacker’s eyes were bright with intellect, her slim figure tall and, well, slim. Obviously.

The girl to Hacker’s right, who looked to be in her early 20s, casually slapped her colleague in the back of the head, smiling innocently the whole time as Hacker’s head shot forwards. “Rabbit,” she said sweetly, flipping her hair over her shoulder elegantly. Ah, yes, the dumbass gunslinger. Fucking, I have hands to throw- 

“Witch,” The short, stocky woman next to Rabbit said, her voice bland and monotonous. “Also, I am so, so sorry. Please don’t kill me,” Witch said once she caught on to how Izuku and Akari were silently fuming at the sight of him.

The man next to Witch snorted comically. “Then why the fuck did you do it?” He said, ruffling the other’s hair affectionately. “I’m Telegraph. Wear your seatbelts, kids.” 

The students of 1-A stared at the military personnel before Jirou inhaled sharply. “Holy shit, you’re those people Miss Inko added into the discord server,” she said, her voice faint and soft. The personnel looked at one another and then made eye contact with Izuku and Akari.

“Well fuck,” Hacker said, her voice peppy and joyous. “Guess that means that we can expose these two shits.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare you ugly ass looking motherfucker,” Akari snapped, her eyes shifting from green and grey to golden.

Witch looked at Akari and smiled creepily, clapping her hands together and tilting her head to the right. “Oh, we can finally-” She was cut off by Izuku grabbing the collar of her jacket and bringing him down to his level oh wow Witch was taller than him when the shit did that happen?

Izuku smiled sadistically at Witch, striking fear into the other’s heart. “If you so much as think about doing what you want I will steal your eyes grind them up into a soup and then feed it to you in your knee caps.” Witch’s eyes widened comically, causing Izuku’s sadistic look to fade into a soft and innocent smile. “Okay?”

“O-okay,” Witch said, stammering as Izuku let her go. 

The class looked at one another, slight fear and amazement dawning in their eyes. Eventually, Kaminari spoke what everyone was probably thinking at that moment.

“What the ever-loving fuck is this.”