#midofu

She flinched.

“I don’t like to do things that are useless in my eyes,” he said softly. Fuyu refused to look at him. “I tend to… overthink things, most of the time. It’s a bad habit of mine.”

Toga giggled. He smiled. “So you know then, right? That I didn’t bring you here for no reason.”

Fuyu huffed through the gag. He laughed, a light, soft sound. It betrayed the entire air this guy carried with him. All the way from the rooftop, all the way from those sparse, dangerous meetings and—

“And I think it’s a good start that you’re not very afraid of us,” he continued warmly. Fuyu snapped her head up at that, glaring daggers at him in disbelief. He beamed at the eye contact, expression glimmering in approval. Fuyu felt her stomach twist. “You’re not, aren’t you? I can tell.”

Fuyu heaved through her nose, twisting. Izuku continued to smile, crouching down to look up at her. “I know you, Fuyu.”

She glared at him in disgust. Izuku was deterred, smiling warmly. He reached one gloved hand up and Fuyu jerked away, seething at him through the gag. Izuku kept his hand in the air, letting it hover just above her knee.

“I know you more than you think,” Izuku continued. Here it is. This stupid spheal. They’re crazy. These villains, they’re crazy.

They’re all the same.

“You’re thinking it’s pointless for us to convince you to hear us out, right?” Izuku continued softly. Fuyu glared, keeping her expression vengeful. “That you don’t have anything to offer… you always think so lowly of yourself, don’t you?”

Her stomach wrenched. Fuyu planted her feet firmly against the floor, expression icy. Izuku smiled, warm as the sun, the corners of his eyes crinkling. The real terror was how someone like him could get away with an expression so gentle when it seemed everything about him was anything but.

“But I think you have everything to offer,” Izuku continued. “More than you could ever imagine. Do you know why?”

Fuyu rolled her eyes. Izuku grinned.

His hand gently touched her knee. Fuyu went rigid. Izuku lowered his eyes, stroking his thumb over the outside of her stockings, comfortingly leaving it there, as though to console her. Fuyu huffed, quick, angry breaths that he ignored, continuing in that soft, lulling voice—

“You think you’re too passive,” he said slowly. “For all your roughness, for all those fights you get into… you think you’re not passionate about anything, don’t you? You think you have no drive, and that makes you less than everyone else, lacking ambition, lacking passion… but that’s not true at all, Fuyu.”

Izuku looked up at her, smiling. “I think you just didn’t have the right thing to be passionate about.”

Fuyu jerked her knee away from him. Izuku reached for her bound hand instead, leaving it over hers. She growled, glaring daggers at him.

“Like that piece of shit who calls himself your father, right?”

Fuyu froze.

Everything went quiet. Her heart stilled. The room blurred—tatami and screen doors, the thick smell of blood and the cold kiss of metal and—

Him.

Rage flooded her heart, pooling into every inch of her. Fuyu kept frigid, staring with blazing, frenzied eyes at Izuku’s face. 

Izuku made a small, pleased noise, squeezing her hand. Fuyu’s eyes grew warm, hot, burning as he stared at him.

“You see, we’re not like filth like him,” Izuku said kindly. “I’d very much like to do a few things to scum like that. That’s what we strive for, you know? Getting rid of people like that, tipping the scales, sewing… a bit of chaos in the order of this world. The way people are allowed to get away with their crimes, their ambitions and agendas and…”

Izuku smiled up at her, eyes twinkling. Fuyu breathed raggedly, chest rising and falling. She realized with a start she could see their strings, floating and drifting in their shades of red, frayed or thick or—

“I love the way your eyes look like that,” Izuku said softly. “But see, Fuyu, I think our intentions can align well… men like that, they never get what they deserve, isn’t that right?”

Fuyu tried to think about Aizawa. She tried to think about her grandparents. About anything else that might block out the truth of his words flooding through her system, about the tune he was strumming to a song riling up at her blood, threatening to break through skin and spill all her secrets.

“The system lets them get away,” Izuku whispered, leaning forward, past her, over the chair, and just by her ear. She felt his hair tickle her cheek. “Scot free, without a care in the world… but you know, we can do something about that.”

Fuyu felt the blood bubble up, flamed by rage.

“You can do something about that.”

Izuku turned his head, peeking at her almost childishly from the fluff of his mossy green bangs. Her eyes rigidly turned sideways, glowing a bright, furious ring of red as she returned his warm, approving gaze.

“Because I think you’re mad,” Izuku whispered. “So, so mad, aren’t you?” The black void in her chest opened its maws, threatening to swallow the thin, tiny precipice of peace she’d tried so stupidly to cling to. “You’re angry.”

Izuku reached up and cupped her face, turning it forward as he towered over her now. Fuyu breathed raggedly, muscles coiling, eyes burning and he smiled down at her as though she were the most beautiful masterpiece.

“And you’re not afraid of him,” Izuku said, reaching a hand up and letting her and his string float just above his palm. Visible only from the strain and the ferociousness of her Quirk activating, making it visible for everyone to see. “You’re not afraid at all because…”

Izuku smiled at her, eyes twinkling with mirth. Fuyu’s glowed red in fury, dark and trembling and shining like the prettiest stars he’d ever seen.

“The thing you’re most afraid of,” Izuku purred. “Is yourself, right?”

A knife sliced through the bounds on her hands. Fuyu’s fingers curled instantly into fists, biting into her palm and drawing blood.