Chapter Text
The Familiar hallway of U.A. hadn’t changed much since graduation. For 8 years I walked these halls as a student, the same polished floors, the same towering windows that let the golden afternoon light shine through on this chilly fall day. It feels different being a visitor this time around–a pro hero–no longer a nervous student like I was my first year.
My boots echo with each step, heels clicking and clacking, sound bouncing off the walls that hold so many dear memories. I adjusted the collar of my costume, the white mock turtlenecked leotard digging into my skin slightly. The long sleeves get brushed down after to prevent any wrinkles.
I stop just shy of a classroom door, class 1-B’s. The layout is almost identical to when I was in 1-A. My seat right up against one of those giant windows all those years ago. Midoriya’s voice seeps through the hall, a small opening in the door. Enough to provide privacy while teaching, simultaneously inviting in others to show they won’t be interrupting. I knock, Once. Twice. He’s animated as always, likely on one of his tangent filled lectures, losing sight of the actual lesson a while ago.
Silence.
“Come in!” called that familiar voice-deeper now, more confident than that stuttering boy I sat behind, yet still unmistakably him. I take my cue to open the obscenely large door the rest of the way, a grin plastered on my face despite a mask covering it. Twenty pairs of young eyes turned to stare at me. “Afternoon, Mr. Midoriya.” I snicker, leaning down for a full theatrical bow. Arms spread wide, legs crossed as I curtsy slightly. “Hope I'm not interrupting.”
Izuku stood at the front of the class. Green hair still wild and untamed as ever, his tie slightly crooked (I doubt he learned how to tie one yet if this is anything to go by). His face lights up instantly. “Class, This is our number 3 pro hero–Jester.” A murmur of excitement ripples through the students. “Hey, Kiddos.” I come up from my bow, Ponytail moving from one of my shoulders to fall back into place. My costume is fully visible now, my thigh high boots the same white as my long sleeved leotard, a deep red ribbon laced up the full length to mimic the look of how ballet shoes might be tied. My Jester mask is fully opaque, covering my whole face, equipped with a one way screen for me to see through it and a voice modifier to aid my quirk. Jester makeup is carefully painted on with dotted red toned paint to mimic blushing cheeks. Complete with a long red ribbon holding my hair together that's not only for looks but for practical use. Modeled after Midnight’s whip, once I take it out of my hair I have my own version of it that can occasionally aid as a capture weapon. “Miss me Deku?”
My mask is carefully removed and placed under my arm, allowing me to greet the students properly. (e/c) eyes shining as I smile, the beauty mark under my right eye visible as ever now. “I hope you’ve all been on your best behavior for Mr. Midoriya.”
The students stare-wide eyed-curious. A few whisper to each other; “That’s Jester” “She’s number THREEE!” “I’ve seen her fight on my TV before!”. Izuku chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck in a familiar way. I suppose some habits never die. “They’ve been..mostly..well-behaved.” “Midorya sensei!” A boy in the front row protests, face going red.
I laughed- my real laugh, unmodified from my voice changer or quirk,warm. The class felt alive with energy, that same buzzing excitement I remember from being on the other side of those desks.
“Relax!! I’m only getting a rile out of you.” I said, stepping further into the classroom now. My ponytail swayed behind me as I moved beside Izuku at the front. He’s taller than me now. Has been since second year in all honesty. He looks good in the teacher role. The slightly rumpled dress shirt, rolled up sleeves revealing scarred forearms, the easy authority he carried now.
“So,” I face the students properly, planting my free hand on my hip. “Your teacher asked me to come in today for a reason. Anyone want to guess why?”
A girl near the back raises her hand tentatively. “Combat demonstration?” I point at her with a grin, “Close!” not close at all, I lied. I can feel his eyes on me. “I should have known you’d make it dramatic.” Midoriya sighs, unable to hide that smile of his. Bright and earnest. “You are Jester afterall.”
I can’t help the small flashbacks coming to mind, The day class 1-A chose our own hero names. A sad smile crosses my face, only briefly.
The day Midnight sat with us, helped us come up with ours.
I miss her.
To this day I visit her grave regularly. Afterall I wouldn’t be who I am today without her. So it only felt natural when it came time to redesign my costume that I included parts of her.
“Today you’ll be choosing your hero names!” I finally announce, my normal smile coming back for the students with a squeal. “Combat demonstration wasn’t close at all!” a student calls out, utterly disappointed which earns a wave of dismissal. “We’ll give you 15 minutes to start brainstorming on those whiteboards of yours then Mr. Midoriya and I will either approve them or encourage you to choose a new one. Think wisely, these will be your hero names through your whole career.” Not entirely true but why not scare them a bit.
Students erupt into excited chatter. Immediately hunching over their desks and scribbling away, crossing things out, whispering to their neighbors. The ache in my chest from earlier settles into something bittersweet.
Midnight’s smile. The way she’d leaned over our desks, perfume trailing behind her, reading our choices with theatrical flair. The way she’d laughed at Bakugo’s first attempt-
“You okay?”
Midoriya’s voice is quiet, meant only for me. He’d stepped closer, green eyes studying my face with that perceptiveness he’d always had. The notebook-filling, detail catching, people reading, dorky, Deku.
I blinked, realizing my eyes had gone glassy. I turned away from the students slightly, facing him. “Yeah,” I murmured, tucking a strand of my bleached blonde hair behind my ear. “Just…remembering. You know.” His expression softened. He knew. Of course he knew. “She’d be proud of you, Yukimura.” He said, barely above a whisper. “Number Three, your costume, the whole thing.” I swallow hard, pressing my lips together and nodding. “She’d be proud of you too, nerd. Teaching the next generation.” I nudge his arm lightly with my elbow. “Look at you, Mr. Midoriya.”
He flushed slightly-There was the old Deku- and scratched his cheek. “It still feels weird hearing it honestly–”
“TIMES UP ALREADY?!” a panicked voice shouted from the back row.
“You still have 12 minutes!” Izuku called back, exasperated. I snort, covering my mouth. Kids.
“They never seem to settle down, do they?” I let out a more natural laugh this time, gently switching the arm I'm holding my mask with to wrap my own around Izuku’s, enjoying the warmth from his bare skin against the fabric of my costume. “Were we like this too? I don’t think I can remember a calm day in class..”
I was relentless when it came to teasing. Bakugo being one of my main targets, of course. At one point during first year I made Midoriya switch seats with me so I could sit behind the hot headed blonde, flicking at the back of his head during tests or when I walked past. Or the times I would flirt with Kaminari just to make him short circuit. How I would make Todoroki cuddle me when I got cold…I was always cold, especially in our dorms. At one point there were rumors Kiri and I were together. To this day neither of us are sure what our relationship truly was. A situationship if I had to name it. Then there’s the nights I would sneak on the rooftop with Izuku, watching the stars as we both got whatever off our chest, good or bad. Occasionally letting our hands find comfort in one another.
“Are you coming to Kami’s party later? He’s having another target together at his apartment tonight.” I whisper, not wanting the students to hear about any personal plans.
Midoriya glanced down at our joined arms, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. But he didn’t pull away, he never did.
“We were worse,” He whispers back, a knowing grin tugging at his lips. “Rememeber when Kacchan literally exploded his desk because you called him ‘Sparkey’ for the third time in one hour?” “He made it so easy,” I murmured, smiling at the memory. “Aizawa’s face…”
A comfortable silence settles between us for a beat, the sound of students muttering and scribbling filling the space. “And yeah,” He started, leaning slightly closer so his voice was barely a breath. “Kaminari texted the group chat about twelve times this morning. I think he’s…Excited.” He paused. “Something about a theme? I stopped reading after the fifteenth emoji.” I have to stifle a laugh against Izuku’s shoulder. “That sounds like Denki.”
“Are you going?” He asked, and there was something almost..tentative in his voice. Something that reminded me of our rooftop nights together, fingers intertwined in the dark. “Of course,” I tilt my face up toward him, the warmth from his shoulder leaving me. I can see every freckle this close, every faint scar from the war or past battles. “Are you going to actually stay past 10 this time, or pull your usual ‘I have papers to grade’ escape?”
He opens his mouth to protest–
“Mr. Midoriya sensei! Is this name too violent?!” A student calls out, holding up their whiteboard with barely legible scribbles for a 15 year old. Boys. He sighs, so I take this as my cue, squeezing his arm as I let go and step forward. “Let’s see what you got, kid.”
It’s a young boy. Scraggly black hair with bat ears poking out atop his head. He lets me get a good look at his attempt. “Ah.” I have to suppress a laugh. It’s as if Tokoyami and Bakugo were combined into one being. “Sorry bud, ‘Demon lord’ is a bit too dark for my liking. And if I remember right from what I overheard, this doesn’t represent you at all….” I pause, not sure of his name. “Takenaka Ken.” He huffs in defeat, bat ears twitching. “Try again, Takenaka.” I encourage before taking my place by Izuku once more. The teacher watched his student try again with renewed determination.
“You handled that well. Very Midnight-sensei of you.” He comments. “A-as we were saying,” I try to change the subject, the compliment hitting deeper than he probably intended. I press my lips together, letting the warmth of it settle. “The party theme is ‘let loose’ which is safe to assume he wants us to dress like we were at a bar.” Because that’s what made sense for Denki Kaminari. “I’d like it if you stayed this time. There’s no pressure to get wasted or even drink. You know Momo and Ida don’t.”
I can feel him gathering his thoughts. He rubbed the back of his neck, another nervous tick. “I do always leave early. I know” A pause. His green eyes flickered to me, then away. “But if you want me there…I’ll stay”
Something fluttered in my chest. Stupid. We aren’t fifteen anymore sneaking onto rooftops.
“I want you there,” I said simply. No teasing, no Jester theatrics. Just (y/n).
His ears went red. God. Some things truly never changed.
“Then I’ll stay.” He said quietly.
Before the moment could stretch into something neither of us was ready to name in a room full of teenagers, That same hand from earlier shot up. “Jester! What about Crimson Fang?” I turned, grateful for the distraction. “Now that’s more I like it! Hell yeah.” “(y/n) please don’t curse in front of my students.” I give the young boy a thumbs up anyway, using my best friend, selective hearing. “Midoriya?” I hear what I determine to be a groan, but he nods anyway. Pulling out his notebook–still carrying those things around– and jots something down. “Approved. Strong identity. Reflects your quirk. Well done, Takenaka.”
The kids beams.
— — —
The rest of the students do well aside from a select few who had to go through several ideas before their name got approved. Their smiles were worth it in the end, I can see why Izuku loves his job so much.
Days like this brightened my mood.
Maybe I should take Nezu up on that job opportunity. It’s been a few months since receiving the offer, telling him you needed time to think things through and talk to my sidekicks at my agency. Yet I haven’t brought it up to anyone yet. Later, I decided.
Later did not happen. Having gotten called in to join a hero in Osaka to take down a few villains, took up the rest of my afternoon. Meaning I didn’t get back home to my apartment on the outskirts of Musutafu until well around 5pm.
My quirk is useful–providing lots of options to team up with people all over the country. My quirk: Turmoil. I can manipulate my voice to influence other’s emotions within a certain radius. Depending on how much energy I have stored or how much rest my voice gets, I can even create shockwaves with high pitched screams or giggles.Though the drawbacks can be intense if i’m not careful. Screams can cause me to completely lose my voice in a battle so I use it sparingly–losing my voice altogether would render my whole quirk useless. Not to mention if I overexert, then it could cause head trauma. Luckily I've spent years training to master acrobatic skills, flexibility, speed and other aspects. I can carry myself well in battle even without my quirk, which is how I earned the ranking I have today.
But alas, my body screams at me as I force myself into a shower–about an hour to get ready and catch a bus. Plenty of time I tell myself.
The outfit was decided last night with the help of Mina on facetime. An old black slip dress with a square neckline I bought last year, paired with black kitten heels. I decided no jacket was necessary because I knew it wouldn’t stay on long enough to be worth it. And with just enough time I do makeup and my hair in a slicked back ponytail that I braid. If I don’t get too crazy I can wake up and wear it to work the next day.
— — —
I knock on my friend’s apartment, music blasting from inside. Not a moment later, it swings open and a wave of bass-heavy music hits me like one of my own shockwaves. Denki Kaminari stood in the doorway, golden eyes bright, wearing an unbuttoned black shirt over a white tee with way too many silver chains around his neck.
“(Y/N)!!” He threw his arms wide, that infectious grin splitting his face. “Number three in the BUILDING!” “Number 44,” I shot back, poking his chest as I stepped inside. “Looking sharp, Pikachu.”
“You wound me,” he clutched his heart dramatically. “But seriously, you look incredible. That dress? Criminal.” “Careful Kami, remember what happens when you short circuit.” He sputtered, face going pink, and I breezed past him with a laugh.
The apartment was already buzzing. Momo sat elegantly on the couch in a wine-red slip dress of her own, sparkling water in hand, deep in conversation with Ida–who, bless him, was wearing a blazer to a house party. Kirishima and Hanta were huddled in the kitchen doing something competitive with shot glasses. And predictably so, Mina and Jirou were fighting over the playlist, meaning Mina wanted to take over.
I scanned the rooms.
No green hair yet.
He said he’d come. He said he’d stay.
“Looking for someone?” A gruff voice behind me. I turned. Bakugo leaned against a wall, arms crossed, wearing all black. His crimson eyes were sharp as ever, one eyebrow raised knowingly. “Don’t start Sparkey.” There’s that old nickname, I was warning him. Granted, I smiled. So it couldn’t have been too threatening.
“Tch. Nerd’s on his way. Texted five minutes ago.” My shoulders relaxed slightly, “I wasn’t—” “Save it, Yukimura.”
I roll my eyes, going to greet him with a hug. It was brief, it always is, but he allows me the contact anyway. “Fiesty as always.” I pull back to adjust my dress. “Do I…Look okay?” I ask, but he knows that what I'm really asking is if Izuku will like it. This earns me a look, up and down. The same analytical stare Bakugo used to assess opponents on the battlefield. Then he scoffed, turning his head away. “You look fine. Stop fishing for compliments, freak.”
From bakugo, that was practically a standing ovation. I smiled.
“The nerd is gonna choke on his words,” He added under his breath, taking a sip of his drink. “Now get out of my face before someone thinks we’re having a moment.”
“Love you too, Katsuki.” I sang out as I left. Hearing a quiet “Tch.” behind me, but caught the ghost of a smirk on his face in my peripheral vision. I leave it be, making my way to the guys in the kitchen where Eiji spotted me immediately, red eyes lighting up. “(Y/N) you made it!” He pulled me into a bear hug–warm, solid, familiar. His arms lingered just a second longer than most people’s would. When he pulled back, his hands stayed on my shoulders, looking over me. “Wow. You look amazing.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Eiji.” I said, taking in the red fitted compression shirt. His hair was down tonight- softer, falling around his face despite a headband, instead of his usual sharp spikes.
Here it was again…That thing between us.The unspoken, undefined warmth that neither of us ever put a label on. He opened his mouth to say something–
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Denki scrambles for the door. “Deku, FINALLY, bro!”
My heart jumped. I straightened up, smoothing my dress one final time despite there being no imperfections. Kirishima keeps a firm hold on me, leaving me to look over my shoulder to try and get even a small look. Just my luck Kaminari is blocking my view. I’ll get him later for that, little shit.
I glance back to Kirishima, eyeing the annoyingly protective stance he holds, maybe even possessive. “Can I get a drink?” I decided to force his attention back to my voice. Sero snickers beside us, leaving the red haired dork blinking. As if only now realizing how he had held onto me. “Right! Yeah, of course. What do you want? Denki’s got-..” He turned to survey the counter “..Basically everything. I’m pretty sure he made Momo make all of this or buy it.” I hum, “Something sweet.” I decide, taking my chance to fully eye the entrance now. Where Kaminari had finally stepped out of the way. And there he was.
Izuku Midoriya, standing in the doorway in a fitted dark green button down, sleeves rolled up again despite the chilly night to expose his elbows. Those scarred forearms..Dark jeans and those red sneakers I have no idea how they lasted this long. His hair was its usual untamed mess, but it looked like he’d actually tried– maybe ran his fingers through it a few extra times. His freckled face was slightly flushed from the cold.
His own eyes scanned the room, and landed on me.
He stopped mid sentence with Kaminari. Lips parted slightly.
Behind me Sero was whispering which earned a sharp “Shut up bro.” from Kirishima.
Izuku crossed the room toward me, weaving through people, his gaze never leaving mine. “(Y/n),” he breathed when he finally reached me. “You look…” He swallowed. “You’re–hi.” I smile, warmth blooming in my chest. “Hi yourself, Izu.”