Akatani didn’t move. He hadn’t since Shouta had found him and told him that he’d figured it out, piecing the bits together. That Akatani was a hero hiding as a villain.

“Are we?

Shouta backed up a step, holding his hands out so Akatani could see they were empty. After a moment of deliberation he loosened the capture weapon around his neck. Akatani tensed, eyes watching him as Shouta dropped it, pale fabric settling on the ground. 

“I don’t want to be a villain,” Shouta said, and there it was. The truth, if it could be of any comfort. “And I know you don’t, either, Akatani.”

“That’s not my name,” his student said, voice so low that Shouta almost missed it.

“Sorry?”

“That’s not my name,” he repeated louder. “My name is Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku.”

When Akatani—when Midoriya relaxed, Shouta dared to move closer. Midoriya tensed, and he stopped. 

“It’s okay,” Shouta said, “it’s okay, it’s just me, it’s okay. Will you let me...?”

Midoriya lowered his arms. Shouta could just make out a few faint, pale scars crossing the backs of them, and he wondered where they had come from. If some of them had been a result of his Quirk, or if they had an origin of a darker nature. 

Shouta crossed the distance between them. Midoriya looked him in the eye. 

“I thought you were one of them.”

“I was,” Shouta admitted quietly, “because I didn’t think there was another path to take.”

The words sparked something in Midoriya’s eyes. He dropped his gaze, and the blades disappeared again, tucked away under his clothes but still within easy reach. 

“That’s what he told me.”

Shouta swallowed. He didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

Midoriya shook his head. “It’s not your fault. And it was never the fault of any of the heroes, either.”

Shouta thought of Hizashi, the way he’d never given up even though Shouta had shut the door on him time and time again. All Might, who Shouta had quietly admired from afar, who in person was bumbling and dense but had a good heart. 

“No,” Shouta agreed, “it wasn’t.” 

They stood. Shouta looked at Midoriya and saw trust in his face. He hoped he didn’t lose it. 

“Let’s... let’s go somewhere a little more private,” Shouta offered, “somewhere we can talk.”

“Not my place,” Midoriya said immediately. “Hisashi will be home.”

“Alright, then,” Shouta agreed immediately, but he filed away the information for later. Hisashi—Midoriya was talking about Akatani Hisashi... or, well, perhaps it was Midoriya Hisashi. Whatever his name was on the files or in real life, his son didn’t seem to like him. Shouta had a suspicion why. 

Shouta’s own apartment was off-limits, too. With the thin walls, Shouta couldn’t trust that Hizashi wouldn’t overhear a conversation he wasn’t meant to and come to a quick and wrong conclusion. Not to mention that if Hisashi said a word, the entire neighborhood would hear them. Then they’d all be screwed. 

They wandered together into a quiet-looking neighborhood. Midoriya glanced at the houses, face tense—he seemed to recognize where they were, but didn’t put up any resistance. Somehow they ended up in a children’s park, sitting on the swings like they were little kids. Midoriya swung a little, kicking back and forth. At the very least, no one would be here in the middle of the night, and the place was nicely secluded by a swath of dark trees. 

“So you’re a villain but like, not really,” Midoriya blurted. 

“That’s... one way to describe it.”

“And you’re working with the League.”

Shouta laughed. “Oh, that’s one way to describe it.”

Midoriya grinned. It was the first time Shouta had seen him smile. “You don’t like Shigaraki either.”

Shouta watched him swing back and forth a little and felt a bit childish. “Did I mention Shigaraki?”

Midoriya peeked at him shyly. “You don’t have to.”

Shouta sighed. “He’s awful.”

“Terrible,” Midoriya agreed, then laughed. Shouta felt his own mouth curve upwards, though he tried not to smile. 

Midoriya dug his heels into the ground, stopping. He was suddenly solemn. “We need to work together, then. To stop the League.”

His voice was steady, and his conviction was so strong it stirred something in Shouta. He was like a light in the darkness of it all, that kid. It was like seeing a star, a point to follow home. 

“You first,” Shouta said, and when Midoriya turned a questioning gaze on him he continued, “we’ll get you out of this first. When we’re both safe we can work something out.” 

“But—”

“They probably trust me more,” Shouta explained. “It’ll be easier for you to defect first. I’ll follow.”

“Not that easy,” Midoriya said ruefully. He held up a finger, and Shouta closed his eyes. Problem child. “Uh, there’s one more teeny, tiny problem.”

“Spit it out, kid, before I make you.”

“Hisashi—ah, my father, he’s, um. He’s kind of a villain?” Midoriya cringed. “Well, not kind of, kind of. He’s not like us. He’s like, an actual villain. So that’s kind of a problem.”

“Kind of,” Shouta repeated, half a mind to get up and walk away. He’d never actually do it, but he kind of wanted to disappear into the surrounding trees and scream in frustration. 

“Yeah,” Midoriya said, “I know. This is like, the worst universe ever.”

“I can think of worse people to be your father,” Shouta commented dryly. 

“Oh,” Midoriya said, paling. “You’re right. That universe is worse.”

Shouta wasn’t sure who Midoriya was talking about. He himself had been referring to Hizashi. Present Mic, raising children? It was bad enough he was a teacher.

Shouta took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. He leaned forwards. “Okay,” he said, “we can deal with that.”

“We,” Midoriya said slowly. 

“We’re a team now,” Shouta pointed out, “though I don’t know why.”

Midoriya flashed a smile at him in the dark. “You can’t take that back once you’ve said it, Eraserhead.”

“I won’t,” Shouta said firmly, and Midoriya blinked twice rapidly, eyes shining. “We’ll take it one step at a time. We can do it.”