It was late on a Thursday night, and Izuku was studying in the living room of the dorms when his phone rang.
He grabbed it and looked at the caller ID before his expression lit up. Swiping to answer, he greeted someone he hadn’t seen in over a year, “Aki! What's up?”
Sitting across from him, Tokoyami glanced up from his own work, eyebrow quirking in response to the affection in Izuku’s voice.
“Uhhh… yeah, I’m free Sunday. Why?” Izuku stood up, smiling in apology as he stepped away from the table, not wanting to disturb his classmate’s own study. “In town? Really?”
A moment of silence passed. “Oh, that sucks. Tell Yu-san to feel better!”
“...Oh, really? But-” Izuku scratched the back of his neck, looking nervous. “Yeah! Absolutely! Text me the info?”
“Awesome, I’ll see you then!”
Izuku hung up before pausing. “Oh shit. I’m out of practice. Aki is going to kill me.” With urgency, he rushed to gather up his homework, already planning to hit the roof to dust off his old skills.
Behind him, Tokoyami leaned back in his chair to watch him go. “Who was that?”
An eerie voice began to speak, echoing from under his hoodie, “What a revelry in the-”
“Quiet. You keep saying that at the wrong time, and we still need to prank Kaminari for teaching you to say that.”
As Dark Shadow grumbled, Tokoyami went back to working on his homework.
‘I do wonder… What does Midoriya need to practice?’
Mina glanced back, twisting to look at the grinning Kyouka, her hand pumped up in victory.
“Back-Alley Vigil is playing at the Musutafu Urban Lounge! And I just got tickets!”
Mina hummed. “Back-Alley Vigil?”
Jirou gave a glare. “They’re a punk band that used to play locally all the time, but they’ve been touring in America for like, 2 years now. They’re back in town finally.”
Momo glanced over. “How expensive are the tickets?” She looked at the screen as Jirou tilted it her way. “Oh! That's not too expensive?”
Uraraka and Mina glanced at each other, their thoughts in sync.
‘This damn rich girl has no understanding of prices.’
“I could get us all tickets! I know we’ve talked about having a ladies’ night out on the town after the last few weeks.”
‘WHOO! We love our rich friend!’
“That would be awesome! We could go out, get dinner, and watch the band play!”
“I haven’t gone out dancing for months!”
“Oh, it could be amazing!”
As the girls gathered and agreed, Momo grinned, already buying more tickets for the show.
Izuku flexed his hands, shaking out his fingers. The scarring on them had taken a bit of edge off his old skills, but practicing over the last few days had helped get him back in the habit. He’d made sure to stay out of the dorms while he practiced though, he knew Tenya and Kacchan would likely get on his case for disrupting the peace and quiet.
He began to pack his things, wearing only jeans, a ‘Flannel’ t-shirt, and a comfortable All Might hoodie. He slid the strap over his shoulder, the case hanging across his back as he made his way out of the door. The early light of Saturday morning fell on the quiet common area of the dorms. Only Iida was awake and present, offering a calm greeting as Izuku headed out.
As he paced across the UA grounds, Izuku adjusted his case once more, and took off at a jog. The venue was only a few miles from UA, and he had skipped his usual morning run. A bit of light cardio would wake him up and get him ready.
As he passed through the security gate, he made sure he had his wallet and UA ID.
With a smile on his lips, he took off.
It took only half an hour for Izuku’s jog to slow, his feet carrying him down a side alley. The loading dock of the building was open, and he climbed the steps, hand trailing along the graffiti-covered walls that surrounded the loading docks. They were signatures of bands; stickers and emblems and song lyrics in black sharpie marker, and massive art pieces in every color of the rainbow, overlapping and interwoven. Izuku felt a smirk on his lips as he tapped the familiar shape of a green leaf near the door, the curled symbol shaped like a ‘Q.’
‘Huh, surprised it's still there.’
He knocked loudly on the door and heard the sound of someone running to get it.
As the entrance threw itself open, he grinned, taking in the long, messy black curls of one of his friends. “Akira!”
“‘Zuku!” He staggered half a step as he was hugged, the slender woman dressed in black jeans and a red shirt wrapped around him like a vice, pressing her cheek to his, and his own arms coming up to hug her back. “I leave you for two years and that skinny, sixteen-year-old-madlad I remember got muscles!” She leaned back, eyes roving his form. “Holy shit kid, I heard you got strong but no one ever said you were fucking ripped!” Her eyes came back up, piercing gold meeting his own green with a grin. “You’re just in time for the sound check.”
“Awesome! Is Yu-senpai doing okay?” Izuku followed Akira through the narrow hallway into the building.
“Yu is being a fucking moron, and keeps trying to do things. We’ve all but tied him down. He passed out last I saw.”
“Sounds like senpai.”
As the two of them stepped out onto the large, open stage, they saw the rest of his friends already setting up. Akira turned back.
“Let's see if you remember what we taught you!’
Izuku grinned back wide and sharp, and unslung his case.
Mina squinted at her chosen outfit, laid out on Ochako’s bed. The girls had chosen to crowd into the most spacious room to get ready for their night out together. “Does this shirt even match my skintone?” she asked, tilting her head.
Jirou glanced over her shoulder from across the room, where she was busily hooking up a set of speakers from her own dorm to play background music for the next few hours. “Is matching that important if it’s gonna be dark? We’re practically going clubbing, Mina.”
“Of course,” Tsuyu croaked, nodding her head.
Momo stood from Ochako’s little table, where a mini makeup station was set up, and made her way over to stand next to Mina. “Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully, taking in the ensemble. “If you’re going for Tokyo street fashion, and there will be lots of flashing lights at the performance, then I have an iridescent bomber jacket you can borrow.”
Mina lit up, “Really?! Thanks, Momo!”
“If it’s iridescent then it can match any skin tone, right?” Hagakure sang, cheerfully nudging her shoulder against Mina’s.
“Oh, I got it!” Jirou cried, finally managing to turn on the speakers. “These damn things are too old,” she grumbled. “Any requests?”
Ochako rose up to her knees excitedly at her small table on the floor. “Can we play Back-Alley Vigil’s top hits? I swear, I’m not gonna know what lyrics to scream along.”
Tsuyu spoke up from her place at the closet, where she chose to hunt through the various articles of clothing for the perfect outfit in lieu of makeup along with Hagakure. “Me neither. It’s my first time hearing about this band, Kyouka-chan.”
Jirou smirked, “You’ll love them,” she promised.
Momo smiled, pleased. “I’m so glad we’re finally doing this. We’ve been talking about a night out together for months!”
“Why does school make us all so busy?” Mina complained, moving to sit at the makeup table with them.
“Uhh, I don’t know, maybe because we’re all aspiring heroes and people’s lives will depend on us in the future?” Jirou grinned, joining the other girls. A playlist of Back-Alley Vigil’s best songs started up in the background, loud enough to hear but quiet enough not to disturb the room’s neighbors.
Mina’s cheeks puffed out. “True.”
“Is this mascara actually clumping on me right now? On this very night?” Ochako whispered heatedly, staring into her mirror. “God, when was the last time I used this?”
Momo leaned over, passing her a different, newer tube and a cleansing pad. “No worries, you can still fix it.”
Mina sniffed. “At least you don’t have to go out looking for pink foundation.”
“At least you guys can use makeup!” Hagakure said darkly. “I can, but it takes me hours since I basically have to construct an entire face.”
Tsuyu paused. “Does that mean we’d know what you’d look like if you didn’t have a quirk, Tooru-chan!”
“Not without paying the price first!”
Jirou snorted in spite of herself. “Oops sorry, didn’t mean to laugh at your guys’… suffering.”
Mina made a face at her, scrunching her nose up on Hagakure’s behalf too. “Whatever Jirou, let’s see what happens on the dance floor tonight. I’ll mop the floor with everyone there and this makeup will still be poppin’!”
“Heyy, that’s the spirit!” Ochako cheered. She turned an ear to the music in the air. “From what I can hear now, I think we’re gonna have a blast!”
Momo gently dotted some concealer onto her face, then used the applicator wand to point at Mina. “If my jacket gets dirty when you breakdance on the nasty floor, you have to clean it, okay?”
Mina pouted into her mirror, running a contour brush along her jawline. “How does she still manage to sound like a nice person even when she’s being so cold?”
“Aww, don’t say that,” Hagakure laughed, passing Tsuyu a brightly colored top and holding it against her frame. She gave her model a once over, then shook her head.
Ochako giggled, dabbing a lightweight liquid blush onto her cheeks. “Maybe that’s her real quirk.”
Chuckling at them all, Jirou leaned back to pull her phone out of her bag. “I wouldn’t be surpris- Oh shit!”
Momo jumped. “What is it?!”
“We only have an hour left before we need to get out of here!” Jirou cried. “Guys if we’re late and miss a single one of their songs, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Ochako sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh man, I’m slow at eye makeup.”
Mina hurriedly snapped an eyeshadow palette open. “Just let me do it then! We still have to get dressed after this you know!”
“Hair will take forever too,” Tsuyu mentioned, running a hand through her long green locks curiously.
“Don’t panic,” Momo murmured softly, concentrating on her eyeliner. “If you panic, then you’ll make a mista-”
The room went dead silent.
Mina covered her mouth with a hand. “I am so sorry, Yaomomo, please have mercy.”
Momo blinked twice, twisting her lips into a stiff smile. As Mina had moved around the table to sit with Ochako, she’d accidentally knocked Momo’s elbow. The girl now sat in front of her supplies with a jagged streak of pitch-black eyeliner across her temple.
Jirou fumbled with a bottle of makeup remover and a cleansing pad, “It’s okay Momo, just use this to shape it into a wing like the other eye and dab a little concealer on your temple and it’ll be fine.”
“She’s going to need more than a little concealer,” Hagakure lamented. “I’d reapply some foundation too, just to be safe.”
Ochako and Mina sat frozen as Momo took in a deep breath, then deflated. “Fine, but only if Mina gets into a breakdancing battle while we’re there and lets me film it.”
Mina nodded furiously, laughing a little in relief. “Sure! No problem…?”
She traded a confused look with Ochako, who shrugged and shook her head.
“Anyways!” she said, ready to change topics. “I have a question. Do I wear heels or…”
Horrified, the other girls snapped their heads up from their individual mirrors, Hagakure visibly flinching and dropping a tube of primer she’d been playing with, and, in-sync, cried, “NO!”
Needless to say, they had to re-coordinate Ochako’s entire outfit, throwing in pieces and accessories here and there from everyone’s closests.
“You cannot be that one girl who walks around barefoot because she thought she could make it through the night, Ocha, please,” Mina said solemnly, nudging the girl towards sneakers. “Also you look hot in black tank-tops so maybe throw a fashionable jacket over one like me.”
“Are we all matching now?!” Jirou demanded, hurriedly jumping around the room in order to squeeze into a pair of solid black skinny jeans, stylishly ripped. “‘Cuz I was planning to wear this B-AV t-shirt, but I think I have a cool purple windbreaker too!”
Momo raked a comb through her hair, bringing it up to a fresh, signature ponytail. “Where are we going to put all of these jackets when we get hot?!”
Mina skirted past that one, “Guess we’ll need extra deodorant!”
Hagakure, already dressed, flitted from person to person to help with hair styling. Tsuyu did the same, having already done some light makeup on herself and styled her hair into a high ponytail, her usual bow at the base.
“We’ll need tissues too,” Ochako added, pulling on a pair of socks. “If this makeup starts running because we got sweaty, I think I’ll cry.”
“Don’t,” Mina said seriously, looking up from the jacket she’d borrowed from Momo. “I didn’t use waterproof mascara on you!”
A round of laughter later has the girls almost finished with their preparations and buzzing with anticipation.
“Those hoop earrings slap, Momo.”
“Do I use this natural-finish or this matte-finish setting spray? I’m scared my look will fade.”
“Ugh, I should’ve showered right before this - my hair is not cooperating with you right now, is it, Hagakure?”
“We only have 10 minutes!”
“Jirou, turn that music down, I can’t see.”
“Does anyone have a scrunchie I can borrow?”
“Kyouka-chan, wear fishnets under those jeans, it’ll tie the whole thing together.”
And as the chaos in the room rose and fell, as the occupants hurried out of the door and the dorm building, they couldn’t possibly have known who was currently facing their very same struggles.
Izuku sneezed loudly.
Akira rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, ‘Zuku, it’s just a little powder, don’t be such a baby.”
The green-eyed teen made a face. “I don’t usually wear makeup for a reason, Aki.”
“Of course not,” Akira murmured, using a hand to tilt his chin up at an angle. “Otherwise you wouldn’t flinch every time I brought the brush near your eyes.”
The two of them were bunched up at a vanity with a classic light-up mirror backstage, fussing over Izuku’s appearance as his old friends bustled around them, occasionally dropping by to greet him and comment on Akira’s work.
Said woman sighed longingly. “Boys have such long eyelashes - it’s unfair,” she said, drumming her fingers against a tube of mascara.
“You’re not going to poke me in the eye with that, right?”
“Of course not,” Akira said again, having the gall to sound offended. “Who do you think handles the hair and makeup for the rest of these buffoons?”
Someone Izuku couldn’t see - thanks to his eyes being gently closed as Akira worked - gave a shout of protest, to which the woman giggled at teasingly.
“Hmmm,” she hummed thoughtfully, tugging his chin and turning his head this way and that. Izuku’s neck was going to hurt at this rate. “I don’t want to go heavy on you, otherwise we’ll lose those adorable freckles.”
Izuku chuckled, partly in relief.
“I guess we’ll just stick to light coverage, a little color on your cheeks and eyelids, and the mascara. I’m thinking of a purple smoked edge and a metallic green center for the eyeshadow.” She squinted at him. “Maybe a nice, sparkly silver for those inner corners.”
The young teen nodded along, he could visualize what she was talking about, even if the idea of the makeup being on him was unusual.
With that judgement, Akira dug down deep and really began to enhance Izuku’s eyes and even his skin tone.
“In exchange though, we have to do something cool and sexy with your hair.”
Izuku felt his cheeks heat up.
“Please don’t give me a mohawk! It was cool once. Never again.”
A begrudging agreement rang out before Izuku felt Akira’s fingers run through his hair, leading him to open his eyes.
His face was different, sharper and more angular, the colors vibrant. His usually dark freckles now caught the light like tiny stars, and his eyes seemed larger, almost glowing with the colors around them.
As Akira started combing through his hair, she smirked.
“You know… I could give you an undercut?” She traced a finger along his temple over his ears. “A nice sharp edge, to accent that curl?”
“The last time I had an undercut, I hated it. Can we please not cut my hair?”
“Spoilsport…” Akira began to style Izuku’s hair in different ways, testing the length and how it hung, before she smiled.
She gathered most of his hair up, dragging and combing it back into a loose braid, before ending it with a tight bun, the ends of the hair set so that the loose spikes spread out almost like a flower. In the front, she gathered the last of his loose bangs, straightening them and letting them flow down in a messy curtain, a pair of hidden bobby pins curving them all to leave his right eye free, and his left half-shadowed. A moment of consideration and Akira reached out for a small bottle of gel, running it through her hands. “Eyes closed real fast?”
Izuku complied, feeling the chill of the gel in his hair and hearing the faint sound of Akira rummaging before he felt a strange tingle across his scalp, followed by the sound of some sort of spray.
He opened his eyes to blink. The familiar dark color of his hair, the mix of black and green tones, had been brightened, with neon streaks racing back towards his bun and his bangs appearing almost acidic and vibrant in front. Beyond that, as he shifted the light caught his hair, and tones of red seemed to sparkle in the dark.
“Red glitter and a neon green highlight?”
“Yep! And it's all washable, shouldn’t last a week at the most. The glitters are all seaweed-based too, since I know you prefer the biodegradable stuff. And now, you need something to go over your shirt.”
Izuku glanced down at his white shirt, the Katakana for ‘Flannel’ on his chest.
“I like it,” he muttered, even as he stood up, brushing faint specks of glitter off his shoulders.
“That's because you love to fuck with people's expectations ‘Zuku. come on, I have a couple of options for you… something to show off your arms, I think.”
Jirou bounced on the balls of her feet, her boots tapping the ground. They had made it to Urban with only a few minutes to spare and had snagged a table and chairs along the wall, Momo ordering everyone a round of water or soda. As the rest of the venue began to crowd up, the spacious dance floor already attracted a few people who lingered near the stage, standing and chatting as they waited for the band to start.
The stage was currently hidden from view, deep red curtains concealing the figures as they moved about. Only the occasional squeak of instruments getting turned on or tuned rang out.
As the clock slowly ticked on, the tension grew.
Jirou could hear it all. The whispers as people checked instruments, the scuffle of boots and the soft laughs as the band got into place before their footsteps echoed off across the stage.
As she began to nearly shake in excitement, the rest of the girls picked up on the energy of the moment.
And then, it started.
The click-whine of the amps turning to full, the scuffle of boots as people behind the curtain got into place.
“We’re back once again!”
The voice was sharp, snarky and welcoming and absolutely pitch-perfect, sending shivers up Jirou’s spine.
“Here, in our hometown!”
People around the room cheered, clapping and screaming welcome backs as the curtains began to pull back.
In the front, dressed in tight leather pants, a loose flannel shirt in red and black, and with a bright bloody heart emblazoned on the white shirt under it, Akira Kuru, the lead singer of Back-Alley Vigil, smiled. Her lips were red, her cheeks pale, her golden eyes shining.
“We’re back in Musutafu!”
The cheers hit a fever pitch as the rest of the band was revealed.
To Akira’s left, Kechi Goro, long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, his eyes hidden behind tinted glasses, stood with a electric bass as he gave a slow strum, making the crowd stir. He wore a double-breasted marching jacket, done in the same blood-red color as Akira’s lips and emblem, but accented with silver instead of her black. From beneath, sheer white pants stretched down to tuck into black boots.
Behind Akira, the drummer was smiling, tapping a soft low beat on his drums as he rocked to the soft motion, the sound melding with the slow bass chords from Kechi. Bright blond hair was cropped short, and arms with bright, electric-yellow dragons moved in a blur even as the beat stayed soft. Ryu Moto, the band’s 'heartbeat,’ was setting the pace, a bright smile on his lips visible even from the back of the crowd, his sheer black and yellow tank top and black vest the only things visible above the drumset, his bare arms showing all the style he really needed.
As Jirou’s eyes drifted, she had to blink.
There, standing where she expected the electric blue of Yusuke Sayuri, was instead the acid splash of green and black.
Bare arms caught the light, letting it dance over scarred flesh and up to where the skin met the leather of a sleeveless, long coat, lapels folded and hanging free to reveal the slender muscle underneath. Beneath it, a bright red shirt caught the eye, silver chains on his neck flashing. Sharp eyes that gleamed like green suns in the stage lights peeked through a curtain of neon and acid tones, the sharp colors drawing the eye, but the flex and flicker of his fingers drawing the ears as clear notes rang out.
“Sadly, Yu-chan is sick, so we called an old friend! The mean green machine ‘Zuku is here to back us up.”
There was a mixed reaction, some people looking confused, while others only cheered louder, shouts of “GREEN!” mixing in, causing the acid toned guitarist to smile wide and bright, even as his fingers tickled a sound like a laugh from the guitar in his grip.
Jirou swears she heard of him somewhere, but where-
“Enough of this talking business… Zu, kick us off would you!”
With a nod, the band quieted, and the guitarist started to pluck, sharp notes dancing out of the amps before the drums and bass kicked in.
“You got the nerve to come and say~ that you’re not standing in my way~”
As the sound took over, Jirou lost her train of thought, and as the music picked up and dancers started moving in, the girls shared smiles and laughed before they got on the dance floor, moving to the beat.
Izuku had forgotten what a rush being up on stage could be.
His fingers were sore, but the ache felt good. His blood was pumping, sweat seemed to turn to vapor on his skin as he shook and moved, dancing his way across the stage and shadowing Kechi for a minute, before dancing back, always matching Ryu’s constant beat.
He was so fucking thrilled to be back. The last year had been all about the work to get into UA, followed by fight after fight and class after class.
But right now all his worries could fade away. The crowd that danced beneath him was hidden behind the gleam of the lights, just a shapeless shifting mass of dancers and cheers.
He could catch colors, bright pinks and purples, flashes of reds and greens, but they were ignored. Instead, he focused on his fingers, on the songs he learned at Yusuke’s side back when he worked on this very stage, running wires and adjusting mics.
As another song rang down, Aki smiled, downing a bottle of water before sighing.
“It’s getting close to the end of the night!”
As boos and cries of dismay rang out, she glanced over, and leaned into the mic, eyes locked on Izuku as he flexed out his fingers, clearing the lactic acid from his joints.
“But I think we might have time for one last song, courtesy of our friend this time?”
The cheers rang out and Izuku grinned sheepishly, shaking his head as he raised his arms.
“Oh, come now Zuzu! One song? For me?”
Izuku tilted his head and leaned into his own mic. “I don’t know, Aki, do you guys remember my songs? It’s been a long time…” He gave a smile, wide and mocking, playing off the crowd as it oohed and gasped with the challenge.
The crowd held its breath as Aki gave a scandalized hiss.
“Why don’t you hand me the guitar and we’ll see if you can sing like I remember?”
As Izuku grinned, he pulled the guitar off, holding it out as Aki strutted across the stage, taking it. He whispered to her for a moment, hiding it by fiddling with Aki’s straps until his guitar hung right, before he strode over to the main mic, wrapping one hand and pulling it close as he spoke.
“What do you all think? One song? I swear, I’ll make it worth your while, but you have to convince me.”
The sound of the cheering crowd, caught up in the moment, hid the subtle tuning of the rest of the band. Akira speaks into her earmic so only Kechi, Ryu, and Izuku could hear.
“Is it gonna be Hero Inside?”
Izuku gave a nod before the crowd began to quiet,
Aki gave a few tests, before slowly performing the scales, to the laughs of the audience as Izuku held his arms out, looking downright insulted at her smirk as she only ran through the scales.
“Really, Aki. That out of practice?”
“Just making sure your girl was tuned up, Izuku!”
And with that, she slammed into the first chords, and Izuku snapped to the mic, already feeling the energy of the room swell with the music, as he began to sing.
Ochako blinked as the name connected with another green-haired guy she knew.
”Holding on to the memory~
Of a hero long ago.
Your words echo in my mind~
But the darkness won't let go.”
The voice was thick, his eyes lidded as he spoke. His words were heavy, but the feeling was almost mourning, hanging thick and hazy as he spoke.
”You gave it all to save your son~
And the place we called a home.
You were the strongest man I never knew,
And now I'm on my own.”
But… It was Izuku? Her cheeks burned as she glanced over him once more, taking in the gleam of red and green. The thick corded muscles that held onto the mic like it was a life line, the hair that seemed to hide him from sight as he glanced down.
“Doubts are creeping in...
How in the hell can I win?
If only you were here.
Betrayed in the end,
By the one you called a friend”
“If only I could see you once again!
But how can I rise up?
How could I compare,
to the hero that I need to be
A father never there?”
Jirou couldn’t believe it. Her head was spinning at the realization that this guy, the singer, the guitarist, she had been rocking out to all damn night…
“They say you live on in me~
Then why can't I see,
The hero that's inside of me?
I've got no other choice...
This is my only destiny!
I will make them pay,
For ripping apart my family!”
Her mind was racing, remembering where she had heard of ‘Green Fingers’ Zuku. He was a local, a freelancer musician who had bounced from band to band… almost always at small, local venues. She had seen the name in the credits for albums. Usually with the note ‘And thank you to Zu, for covering for us.’
Midoriya fucking Izuku was a well-known musician?
And she never fucking knew that?
“And I don't care about the prize!
I don't care about the fame!
I will give my all to save this world,
And live up to my name!”
“This could be the end,
Or is this the start,
Of a brand new me!”
Toru squealed, bouncing in the crowd. She had gotten a few glowing bracelets, using them to augment her outfit for maximum visibility in the dark of the dance floor, and was enjoying the music.
“Father, are you there,
Somewhere in the stars?
This one's for you
Wherever you are!”
Whoever knew that Izuku could look that fucking good with only some makeup and a different hairstyle?
“Now I will rise up
And soar through the air
I'm becoming who I need to be.”
Ashido bumped and grooved with the crowd, her smile so wide she doubted a jackhammer would pull it off her face as she danced. Up top, she saw Izuku shaking and grooving as he sung his soul out, recognizing the bits of footwork she had seen in his fighting style. She also caught something… interesting. He had tiny bits of movements that were nearly breakdancing, as he bobbed and twisted around the mic, singing into it. His natural internal beat was strong! And it made her just wanna- dance!
As the song grew heavier, and the chorus kicked back in, she grinned and burst into a breakdance, the crowd partying and dancing with her.
“I know you're always there
They say you live on in me.
And I'm starting to see,
The hero that's inside of me!”
Momo started, her eyes locked on her classmate as he sang into the microphone. She hadn’t recognized the guitarist as Midoriya until the last minute, but now as she took him in, she recognized the scars. She still couldn’t connect the sharp-eyed singer with the usual quiet guy who was always helping others out. As the song moved on, he reached down, grabbing an acoustic guitar that rested on the stage and lifting it up, before the rest of the band quieted, letting his hands pick out a verse.
“Though I'll only see you in my dreams...
You'll never know just what your memory means to me.”
“And I will not give up,
Soaring through the air!
I'm becoming who I need to be.
I know you're always there,
They say you live on in me.”
Sitting on the railing separating the dining tables of the venue from the dance floor, Tsuyu bobbed with the music, even as she kept her hands steady, phone held sideways as she recorded the song.
As the last few lines were sung, she slowly zoomed in, until the focus was on Izuku’s face, his grin wide and nearly feral as he sang into the mic.
“And I finally see
The hero that's inside of me!~”
And then, for the last line, he seemed to relax, as if in victory, one hand pumped.
He spoke it clearly and his eyes focused, whether he meant to or not, directly into the camera.
“The hero that's inside of me.”
And the crowd went wild.
Izuku stepped back, bowing slightly as Akira smiled and passed him back his electric guitar.
“Give it up for the Green Monster, the envy of all others, Midoriya Izuku!”
Izuku flushed, holding up his hand as he headed for his earlier spot.
Akira grinned and waved at the crowd. “It’s been lovely, but our set is over! We’ll be in the crowd, so come say hi!”
As the lights dimmed, and the curtain swung closed, Izuku let his arm down and nearly deflated, exhaling.
“Fuck… I’m out of practice. My fingers hurt.”
Akira smacked his shoulder as she passed. “That's what you get for not practicing!”
Izuku sighed, even as he followed the rest of the band through the back hall, before sliding out at the counter of the bar in the back of the venue.
Izuku took a breath and prepared for dealing with the crowd.
Suddenly, he found himself flanked, and glanced up only to nearly choke on his water.
“Hey, Izuku!” Ochako, Ashido, and Momo were to his right.
“We weren’t expecting you to be here.”
Izuku nearly gave himself whiplash as he looked the other way, seeing Jirou, Toru, and Tsuyu on his other side.
‘Well… there goes that secret.’