Archive of Our Own ^beta

There was always something off with Kurogiri. Izuku knew that from maybe day two in the bar. He was a person, but he wasn’t. Izuku had never seen under the shadows of his quirk, but knew the shadows were not his true form. He was sentient, but he wasn’t. Only functioning on orders, even if those parameters could be vague. He was kind, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t capable of emotion in any real sense, but there were little things that slipped through. An extra portion at dinner after a hard day. Painkillers left in his room after Tomura scarred him again. The way he would always watch. He never did anything when Izuku was being hurt, for whatever reason he couldn’t, but he didn’t turn those yellow not eyes away. He saw, he acknowledged what Izuku was going through. Tomura too, though there was even less Kurogiri could do for his older brother, so entrenched in All for One’s ideology that he couldn’t see the horror of what he was going through the way Izuku could. 

Izuku meant what he said to his father in Kamino. He hadn’t spared his old man a thought since his death, and had no intention of changing that. The rest of the League though… they were another story. 

“Hey Dad? Is Kurogiri in Tartarus?” Maybe that wasn’t the best way to interrupt their quiet weekend brunch for a serious conversation, but Izuku wasn’t sure there was a gentle way to bring it up. 

Aizawa paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth and set them back down. “I’m fairly certain, yes. Why?” 

“Do you know if, uh…” Izuku still wasn’t sure how to phrase this. “Anyone’s trying to fix him?” 

“You’re going to have to elaborate on that.” 

Izuku pursed his lips. “Well, you know how he’s a Nomu.” 

“Yes.” 

“But he’s high functioning, still some humanity in there and all.” 

“...you’ve said.” 

“Is anyone trying to get him back to who he was before he was subject to human experimentation? Or at least to see if his consciousness could be brought out from underneath the programming?” 

Aizawa blinked at him. “I don’t know.” 

“Oh. Okay. I’ll ask Nedzu.” 

“You do that.” 

They were quiet for a moment. 

“You think he can be?” Aizawa asked. 

Izuku shrugged. “Not sure, but I think it’s worth trying, right?” 

“Mmm.” 

Once, when Izuku had been at the bar for about three months, he accidentally called Kurogiri mom. It was a weird mistake to make, but not so strange to a six year old whose only caretaker previously was his mother. He’d tripped up the uneven stairs and skinned his knee on unpolished wood. Kurogiri knelt in front of him, picked out the splinters, cleaned the scrapes and secured a large brown bandaid over the site. It was the exact same process his mom went through when he hurt himself on the playground or the sidewalk so it just slipped out. 

“Thanks, mom.” 

Kurogiri stilled from his awkward perch on the steps, watching Izuku for a moment as the boy realized his mistake, and ducked his head. 

“I am not your mother, Izuku.” Kurogiri said, and for a moment, his words almost had an inflection to them. They almost seemed sad. 

“I know.” Izuku wrapped his arms around himself, not knowing any other way to self-soothe yet. 

“Let me know if you need another bandage.” The man said, and walked away. 

“I’m glad you brought this up.” Nedzu said, a week later in their lessons. “It was proposed that scientists be brought in to evaluate Kurogiri and the surviving Nomu, but the order to do so from the Commission was conveniently lost.” 

Izuku frowned. Now that All for One was history, Nedzu was trying to recruit him for the rat’s vendetta against the commission. An entirely just one, mind you, but Izuku wanted to wait until next year to commit to it. He had a one major societal change per year maximum he wanted to protect. 

“Unfortunate.” He replied passively. “Have you brought that mistake to light?” 

“Of course.” Nedzu seemed slightly offended Izuku bothered to ask. “They have a series of professionals slotted to visit over the next two weeks, myself in that number.” 

Izuku wasn’t surprised Nedzu was considered an expert in quirk based human experimentation, even if he didn’t advertise that knowledge. “I assume you’re going?” 

“Certainly, though I doubt I’ll be much help.” 

Izuku scoffed, false modesty didn’t suit the principal… though it seemed this might not be false. “You really don’t think so?” 

“I can speak a lot on quirk experimentation and the physiological effects of that kind of experience, but the biological science behind it? I’m afraid my knowledge is purely theoretic and mostly abstract.” 

“Huh.” That made enough sense, he supposed. Nedzu didn’t exactly spend his days running chemical experiments in a lab. He ran social experiments in a school. 

“I did want to ask if you wished to accompany me.” 

Accompany–Izuku stilled. Nedzu was actually offering to take a sixteen year old to Tartarus? That seemed like a terrible idea to begin with. But also, why? What could Izuku contribute to the issue that would justify the paperwork and additional security that would no doubt come with a minor’s presence in the nation's worst prison? 

Nedzu saw the unspoken question, and answered without prompting. “I would not expect you to have the knowledge to contribute to the issue. I ask, to give you the option to visit Kurogiri if you wish.” 

Okay that made less sense. “Why, if there’s no purpose in it?” 

Nedzu’s whiskers twitched the way they did when Izuku missed a point the principal found humorous. “You’ve been keeping fairly close track of the former League. When Toga was caught you fought for institutionalization over imprisonment with a fervor that wasn’t entirely motivated by logic.” 

Izuku opened his mouth to defend himself, but Nedzu raised a paw. 

“I may not fully understand the emotional connections humans form, but that does not mean I’m unaware of them, or that I fault you for having feelings.” Nedzu’s expression was gentler than usual. “This… being, raised you. If you needed some sort of, what’s it called? Closure. That would be reasonable, and these circumstances may be your only opportunity for it.” 

Izuku pressed his fingers against his palms, not the nails, no pain, just pressure, something grounding. Because this kind of kindness from Nedzu was beyond anything Izuku thought the universe capable of. But outside of the suspicions of ulterior motives, Izuku didn’t know how to feel about potentially seeing Kurogiri again. Without order or directions, would he be able to speak, and even if he could, was there really anything to say? Izuku had closed that chapter of his life when he ran away from the bar and burned the pages when he plotted and saw the plan to kill his father followed through on. He was ensuring someone looking into the man’s condition, that the arrested League members were receiving fair trial because it was what they were owed as people, and the way the system was currently set up, they wouldn’t get it without someone fighting for them. It didn’t have anything to do with his supposed emotional attachment. 

…okay yeah fine, there was some emotional attachment, but it was complicated by a lot of pain. 

“When did you need a decision by?” He wasn’t going to be able to make one right now, that was for sure. 

“Next Monday at the latest. I suppose you would need to check with your parents.” 

Izuku snorted. He was checking with his therapist, then with his parents. “No, why would they need to know their teenager is going to a prison named after Greek hell?” 

Nedzu shook his head. “Associating with other teenagers has drastically lowered your sense of humor.” 

Izuku grinned. “Good.” He sobered. “Thank you. For the opportunity.” He’d figure out what the rat wanted from this eventually. 

“You’re very welcome, Izuku.” 

After the disintegration injury on his back, Izuku was bedridden for eleven days. All for One’s healing quirks were limited, but they kept Izuku alive when he might have otherwise died. He was unconscious for nearly three of those eleven days, and the first thing he saw when he woke up was Kurogiri shadows, replacing a glass of water on the table next to the bed. Izuku was in the labs, rather than the bar, as the medical equipment was better there. He hated this place, he feared being in one of these beds because it was always synonymous in his head with the ever present threat of being turned into a Nomu. 

“No…” He moaned. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” He wasn’t sure if the words were audible until Kurogiri responded. 

“That is correct. You are not here as a punishment, you were hurt. The Doctor and Master have fixed you.” 

Izuku blinked up at the ceiling, fluorescent lights dim and yellow from years of improper maintenance and cleaning. It might’ve taken him a few seconds to process, it might have been an hour, but Kurogiri did not move. 

“I don’t feel very fixed.” In fact he felt decidedly awful. His whole torso felt like it was on fire, save a sizable patch of his upper back, which was entirely numb. 

“No, you won’t for some time.” Kurogiri held the water with a straw to Izuku’s mouth, lifting his head when he could not, letting him take a few desperate sips before giving up. Drinking shouldn’t take this much effort. 

“Pain rarely stays, and I will be here for as long as I’m needed.” 

Izuku couldn’t be sure without an inflection change, but he thought he was being comforted. He felt comforted. He slipped back into sleep, knowing Kurogiri would be there when he woke up–even if it was just because he was ordered to be. 

Hanako thought it might not be a bad idea. After digging into the issue a little more, they agreed that Kurogiri has been the only steady point in his life for ten years, and even if he hadn’t been explicitly kind or parent-like, young Izuku had clung to that stability. Izuku thought making sure the law did right by Kurogiri like he was for the rest of the league would be enough, but like Nedzu, Hanako seemed to think there might be another layer to it. 

Izuku still wasn’t sure, but Nedzu was right about this being a rare opportunity. At the very least, he’d probably learn some interesting things about the prison and cutting edge quirk research. And he wasn’t necessarily opposed to seeing Kurogiri, he just… had yet to find a good word for it. 

His parents were less enthusiastic about the whole thing. To be fair, they’d been a little over protective since the whole almost-dying-twice-in-three-days and fighting-your-supervillain-father thing. But Aizawa knew that if Nedzu wanted Izuku to go, there was a damn good reason for it, and getting in the way was inadvisable. 

Izuku was instructed to wear tight fitting, long sleeve clothes, boots, and to have any hair cut short or secured in a bun, among a dozen other regulations. He could bring pretty much nothing with him, he didn’t expect to be able to bring a pen, but not even paper! He wasn’t sure if it was because of the risk of message passing, or the theoretical harm it could do if folded up the right way–which still wasn’t much. Tartarus inmates were fitted with quirk suppressant cuffs at all times so it couldn’t be a quirk. 

He puzzled through this on the ride to the prison, Nedzu had them taking a car, though he wasn’t entirely sure whose. The driver was dead silent, and Nedzu was scrolling through some research notes he’d just been given access to. Apparently there was some sort of break proof, heavily locked computer that Nedzu would be able to use in the prison to look at these same things, but the rat would want to know as much as he could ahead of time, and Izuku didn’t fault him for it. 

Security was anxiety inducing, and only Nedzu’s placid smile through the whole thing kept him from vibrating out of his skin. The guards were designed to look scary, but the trio that escorted them down seemed friendly enough, happy to chat about some of the other scientists they’d seen come through in between instructions. 

Izuku ate it up, much happier to gossip about quirky researchers than to think about the dozens if not hundreds of layers of steel and stone between them and sunlight. 

Kurogiri’s cell wasn’t very deep–at least not the one he was being held in currently, it seemed a little larger than the standard cells, probably so they could go inside and still keep a decent distance. 

Izuku wasn’t sure if seeing the man was going to cause some sort of reaction in him, but it didn’t, not really. If anything, it was a bit unsettling that his shadows and yellow eyes persisted even with the enormous quirk suppressant cuffs binding his limbs. Actually, that struck Izuku as very unsettling. He knew there was a body under the shadows, one that could be hit, so he’d always interpreted the shadows and part of his quirk rather than his physical body. 

“The shadows are a modification.” He muttered. 

“What was that?” Nedzu paused the conversation he was having with the guard and Izuku repeated himself. 

“I didn’t realize.” Izuku continued. “I’d just assumed they were part of the quirk, but it makes sense that creating a hybrid physical form might have been necessary in order to hold the quirk.” 

One of the guards finished setting up the computer. “That’s the conclusion a few of the scientists came to as well. They’re trying to figure out how to part the mist without hurting the man. Hard to see the true extent of damage done without getting access to the form underneath.” 

Nedzu asked a follow up question, and Izuku turned to study his former caretaker. He had no restraints around his head, but didn’t seem to even be looking at them. 

“Is he drugged?” Izuku asked in a break in conversation. 

“Not at the moment, no. He’s been pretty placid in the cuffs so it hasn’t been necessary.” 

Izuku nodded, and took a few steps closer, not passing the line the guards had indicated, but putting himself in line of vision. 

“Hey Giri,” he said softly, “It’s been a while.” 

He got no reaction from that, Kurogiri’s eyes remained zoned out, not that it was easy to tell. 

“Are you not talking because you don’t want to, or because you’re under orders?” Izuku didn’t know if he expected a response to that, but was unsurprised where there was no change. 

Nedzu had moved to the computer and pulled up a monitor and some other documents, seeming to gauge Kurogiri for any reactions on the chemical level. 

“Are you feeling any better? That forced activation quirk hurts.” 

The shadows flickered and for a moment, Izuku thought he might have gotten eye contact. 

“Remember when I was seven and Father used it on me? He wanted to make sure I was really quirkless. You brought me dinner in my room that night and told me pain rarely stays. You were right, it did go eventually, but it lingered something awful.” 

“Pain rarely stays.” Kurogiri echoed, but with a different inflection. 

The guards started, clearly he’d never spoken before in their presence. 

Izuku paused for a moment, letting that sink in. “You are in pain then.” 

No response, but Kurogiri held his eyes. 

“Is it from the forced activation quirk or something else?” 

“Pain rarely stays.” Kurogiri repeated. 

“But yours does. Is it chronic then? From the… change?” 

Kurogiri flinched. Izuku had found the correct answer, although he wished he’d gotten there in a way that didn’t cause that kind of reaction. 

“Nedzu, there are specific brain waves for pain right? Are his elevated?” 

Nedzu hummed, looking over the monitor. “I’d say so, though they’ve been at this level his entire incarceration, so this may be his baseline. There are some odd natural adaptations in the current world.” 

“But chronic pain would also make sense?” 

“It’s a valid theory.” 

Izuku frowned, a number of ideas swirling around. Why was Kurogiri in pain? Was it because he couldn’t activate his quirk? Was it tied into his physical form so thoroughly that having it cut off would cause incessant hurt? It was possible, but so were other things. He knew a lot of the Nomu were in constant pain in addition to the psychological torture of a half life–it added to the rage–but Kurogiri had seemed too stable for that. It could also be a more recent development. Perhaps being too distant from All for One or Tomura caused physical reaction, Izuku vaguely remembered his father stumbling across an interesting proximity quirk at some point in his tween years. 

But more than that, why had Kurogiri said that one phrase and that one phrase alone? Was it programming through a quirk? Through the Doctor’s experimentation? Pure psychological conditioning? Izuku had so many questions, and was uncertain what of the information gathered so far could answer it. 

He hovered over Nedzu’s shoulder as the principal seemed to search for the same answers he was. The scientists had found some interesting things, even if it wasn’t nearly as much as Izuku thought they should have. There was a whole page about the wavelengths of the light Kurogiri’s shadows reflected that Izuku would eagerly look into later. One person wanted to try to vacuum away the shadows to get at Kurogiri’s body, which struck Izuku as a bad idea. Why were they having such a hard time getting access to him under the mist though? Maybe they couldn’t see it, but it wasn't a forcefield, at least it shouldn’t be without the quirk, so wouldn’t they be able to reach through? 

“Is no one allowed to touch him?” Izuku asked the guard.

“Like with your bare hands?” The guard clarified and Izuku nodded. “I don’t think anyone’s asked, but the tools they’ve tried to probe him with haven’t been able to get there.” 

“So… can I try?” 

The guard eyes him warily. “What’s your quirk?” 

“Don’t have one.” Izuku said, though that really should have been in their briefing. 

The guard looked to the others who pretty much just shrugged. “Don’t see why not but one of us will be ready to pull you back if something happens.” 

Izuku nodded, approaching slowly so they had time to get into position. The prison uniform was short sleeved, mist poking out above and below thick restrains on his lower arm and wrists. He knew the man could hold things, could touch, even if his touches never did feel solid, but Izuku couldn’t remember trying to touch the man anywhere that wasn’t covered by the suit and neck brace he always wore, those felt solid. 

“Sorry if this is a little awkward.” Izuku offered Kurogiri a sheepish smile. “I’m just going to try to touch your elbow.” 

The shadows flickered slightly, but otherwise no reaction. It wasn’t ideal, but Izuku hoped the man would have said something if he wasn’t okay with it. 

Izuku’s fingers dipped into the shadows. He felt a clear resistance, which was odd but not unexpected. One knuckle then two. That was when it started to sting. 

“Huh.” 

“Find anything?” 

“Mild pain at this point, just a light stinging sensation, like the mist is vibrating hard enough to hurt. Does that make sense?” 

One of the guards tugged on his shoulder but Izuku didn’t budge. “It doesn’t actually hurt, I’ll stop if it does.” Izuku looked up to Kurogiri’s face, to see if the slight burning was shared, but the man’s not-expression remained unchanged. 

Third knuckle, the start of his palm. The stinging increased, and he pursed his lips. He’d handled far worse and he was certain he was about to hit something, the resistance was stronger. 

“Almost…” 

He hit skin and the mist burst at the seams. It grew like it would to make a portal but without the quirk it just sort of writhed, peeling off the skin underneath and then reattaching itself. And it was skin, Izuku could feel it against his as he grasped the man’s arm. Izuku looked up to see some of the shadows peeling away from his face before obscuring it again. Izuku saw blue hair–it looked familiar, a bit like Tomura’s–and light colored eyes, pupils wide and unseeing. And scars, so many scars the skin seemed patchwork. 

“Kid stop!” 

Izuku was yanked back, and while he was inclined to protest, his twinging hand suggested otherwise. He glanced down to see it looking red and raw, like he’d just submerged it in boiling water. 

“Huh.” He repeated, lost in his own thoughts as the guards surrounded Kurogiri. Not that they needed to, as soon as Izuku’s hand was removed the shadows snapped back into place, as if they’d never moved. 

Slowly, the tension in the room relaxed. 

“I hope whatever data you got from that was worth it.” One of the guards said wryly. 

“I believe so.” Nedzu said. “Aizawa, how’s your hand?” 

“It’s–” But Izuku didn’t get to finish. Something triggered. Something snapped, and Kurogiri was screaming. 

He thrashed, testing just how good those restraints worked, not responding to the guards commands to calm down, just screaming, unending and raw, lapsing and returning, but still screaming. 

Izuku’s hands were over his ears, staring at Kurogiri in horror as he and Nedzu were pulled from the room by other guards. The room must have been sound proof, because as soon as the door sealed behind them the sound was cut off and somehow, and after that, the silence was worse. 

“Why?” Izuku breathed, his own voice sounding distant but also far too loud. “What triggered that? He calmed right down after I backed away, why would it have been delayed or was it something else?” Izuku rambled, staring at the floor as his thoughts spiraled. 

Nedzu rested a paw on his arm, bringing him back to reality. “I’m going to review the footage upstairs, I’m having you sent home.” 

“But–” Izuku started. They had a several hour timeslot and they’d been here less than one. “I can still help.” 

“Perhaps, but you’re unsettled. Your parents would likely attempt to kill me if I didn't pull you now.” Nedzu said simply, the last phrase suggesting he had been directly and explicitly threatened. And while Izuku didn’t want to go, he wasn’t sure he could handle staying. 

“Fine.” He took the easy way out of the situation, ascending to the surface, comforted by sunlight and the wind from the open car window as Nedzu’s driver returned him home. 

Some closure. 

Nedzu was right to use the word unsettled. Izuku felt like the entire world had shifted slightly to the left for days afterward. His dad was furious about his hand and even after Izuku insisted it was his own self-destructive tendencies and not the rat, he still left several angry voicemails. 

It was unfortunate he was distracted because in other circumstances, Izuku would have really enjoyed that. 

Nedzu went back to the prison to review the footage of the incident again and work with some of the scientists, see if they could figure out what happened. This, Izuku was justifiably not invited to. He still thought about it, working through the events of that hour in (coded) writing. All of the things he thought might trigger something in Kurogiri had gone fine, he’d snapped seemingly out of nowhere. It didn’t make sense. 

Izuku tried to put it out of his mind. Classes were ramping up for midterms again, and he was determined to give Momo a run for her money for that number one spot. 

It was a little strange, not having a few of his friends around some days. Izuku had actively decided not to go for a work study his first year, but some of his more plus ultra classmates had found positions. Their lunch table always seemed a little less bright on the days Ochako and Tsu were out, but at least they were together.

One day, during an English class Izuku was actually attending, Pops told him to go up to see Nedzu. 

“Do you know why?” Izuku asked, gathering up his things. He wasn’t too concerned about missing more classes, even with the looming tests, but he couldn’t come up with a reason for this particular summoning. 

All Pops did was shrug. “Shou will be there too.” He said, reassuring. 

Huh, yeah he had no idea what this was about. 

The familiar route passed by uneventfully. His dad was already in the office, sprawled across Nedzu’s couch, eyes opening immediately when Izuku walked in. 

“Hey Dad, what’s up?” Izuku dropped his stuff next to a chair, glancing at Nedzu who was making tea. 

“Just something I needed to speak to the both of you about.” Nedzu said lightly, setting a tray on the coffee table. 

Nedzu usually didn’t use his sitting area for anything serious, so Izuku made the mistake of letting his guard down. He really should have known better. The tea Nedzu offered was a nice, citrusy green, and Izuku sank back into the comfortable armchair to await Nedzu’s reveal. 

The principal took a hearty sip of his own cup and then sat forward in his seat. “After reviewing the prison footage, I’ve come to the conclusion that there was a specific trigger for the Nomu known as Kurogiri’s actions, and what that trigger was.” 

Izuku coughed around the liquid in his mouth, trying not to choke or spit it out. His Dad sat up straight, eyes narrowed, setting his cup down. 

“And that was…?” Nedzu wasn’t usually the type to drag things out. 

“My use of Aizawa’s name.” Nedzu gestured at him, and Izuku’s brow furrowed. 

“The name Aizawa? That was the trigger? Why?” 

“Figuring that out is the current endeavor.” Nedzu said. “Since realizing that, I did a bit of digging through your family tree, and the handful of others in the country who boast the name, looking for any possible connection to the League, or the Doctor, or any sort of criminal activity.” 

Dad stiffened at that. “I could have told you there was nothing in ours.” 

Nedzu inclined his head. “I was aware of that, I keep a very thorough track of my faculty’s family.” That statement sounded vaguely threatening. “I found nothing in any of Japan’s Aizawas, to remotely suggest that significant a criminal connection.” 

Izuku snorted at the wording. He must have found a few petty criminals then, Izuku was curious if Nedzu had done anything about it.

“The conclusion that can be drawn from that then,” The rat went on. “Is that he likely recognized the name from before his time with the League.” 

Well, that was an interesting thought. If the name was associated with Kurogiri’s “before”, that meant he did still have some memories of his past life in there, even if they were heavily suppressed by trauma or on purpose by the Doctor. It might be possible then, to draw out those memories to some extent, and even if Kurogiri’s form couldn’t be repaired, perhaps his mind could be healed.

“My sentiments exactly.” Nedzu agreed. 

Izuku grimaced, he must have been mumbling. “Sorry about that.” 

“Unnecessary.” Nedzu brushed it off. “You’re correct, my thought is that we might be able to use that as a jumping point to heal Kurogiri’s mind to a point of functionality. If he can communicate properly and freely, those looking into it may have more luck with the physical repairs.” 

This was… really exciting actually. And even if they couldn’t fix his body, there were people out there with weirder forms due to their quirks, he could live a relatively normal life. 

“So how does that… get done?” Izuku wasn’t sure how to phrase the question, since he was fairly certain he wasn’t going to have any direct involvement going forward. He was happy he was just being kept in the loop at this point. 

His dad shot him a look that Izuku read as vaguely amused. 

“Fairly simply, we need to figure out who the right Aizawa is, and see Kurogiri’s reaction to the real thing.” Nedzu said lightly. “I would, of course, like to start with our Aizawa, who, as a licensed hero, we can get there in person. I also plan to bring photos of the other potentials, see if we can get him to look at them, and go from there.” 

Aizawa blinked. “Oh so now you want me involved in this? You want to tell me why I couldn’t have gone with my kid last time then?” 

Izuku took a pointedly long sip of his tea while his dad and Nedzu had a staring contest of epic proportions. He really wasn’t sure who would break first, but after an entire minute, he really didn’t want his dad exasperating his dry eye. 

“Mistakes were made, no one’s happy, moving on.” Izuku interrupted. 

No one was happy with that, but they did move on. 

“I’ve put through all the paperwork for next week–” Nedzu started. 

“Why should I?” Aizawa interrupted. 

“Dad!” Izuku admonished, because seriously, what the fuck? 

The man shot him a very dad look. “I didn’t want Izuku to go in the first place, it took him over a week to get back to normal afterward. Why should I help someone who had caused my son harm? Who was complicit in a decade of abuse?” 

“Dad…” Izuku did appreciate the protectiveness. It was really comforting after so long without it. But this was misplaced. “He literally couldn’t do anything. Think full on robot, just flesh and blood instead of metal.” 

He didn’t seem convinced. 

“Please. Just try. It’s probably not you anyway, and you can give him a piece of your mind for flipping out last time.” 

His dad snorted, but after a moment, nodded. “Yeah. Okay. No one deserves to live like that.” 

Izuku relaxed a little. “Thanks.” He said, glad he didn’t have to bring out a guilt trip. He wasn’t sure if that would work on Aizawa, and he wasn’t eager to find that. 

“Next week then.” Nedzu said. “I’ll send you the date and time once I receive it.” 

His dad gave a curt nod before standing. “Come on, Izuku.” 

“Yeah, I should get back to class.” He said, unenthusiastic at the prospect. 

“No, we’ll go sit in my office until lunch.” His dad picked up his stuff, offering no room protest. 

Izuku smiled, glad to have the time to decompress from this conversation. “Sounds good to me.” 

Nedzu and Aizawa went to the prison just after school the next Tuesday. Izuku decided to make himself a nuisance and wait for them to get back in his parents’ dorm, enjoying the quality cuddle time with Goose and trying to pester Pops into letting him stay for dinner. 

“No one with any sense is on cooking duty tonight, it’s not going to be edible.” He whined, letting Goose swat at his face as he readjusted his grip on her feather toy. 

“Well then maybe you should all revise that schedule so there’s always someone competent in the kitchen.” Pops had no sympathy. 

“You’ve been trying to teach some of them, you know what they’re like! It’s Todoroki, Momo, and Kaminari tonight. We’ll be lucky if they just decide to microwave ramen for everyone and manage not to burn the dorm now!” 

“Yaoyurozu could always make a fire extinguisher.” 

“Agh!” Goose pounced on his face, not liking the exclamation. He spent the next thirty seconds spitting cat hair out of his mouth while Pops just cackled. 

They were both so distracted from the noise that neither of them noticed Aizawa had walked in until the door closed behind him. 

“Hey Dad, how–” Izuku cut himself off short when he saw the man’s expression. He was pale, and not the usual this-man-never-goes-outside-during-the-day pale. His shoulders were slumped, like he was about to fall over, and his eyes… Izuku had to look away. 

“Hey Pops?” He called, unable to keep the waver from his voice. “I think Dad needs help.” 

Yamada came in from the other room, tossing a dishtowel aside as he spotted Aizawa’s expression. He was at his husband’s side instantly, hands under his arms, in case he needed physical support. “Okay Shou, let’s go sit down.” 

Yamada walked him toward the couch and Aizawa looked at Izuku. 

“Not now.” He said faintly. 

Izuku looked between them. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“It’s alright Shou, Izuku isn’t going to ask anything right now.” 

Aizawa was still looking at him. “No.” 

Izuku swallowed hard. “Um, I can go.” 

“No, kiddo, you stay right here. We’ll go lie Shouta down in the bedroom.” Yamada’s tone was firm, and a bit biting, though Izuku wasn’t sure who that was directed at. 

Izuku stood in the living room as the two left his sight. He could hear Yamada’s soft words, but not what he was saying. Goose stood at his feet and meowed at him until he picked her up. On one hand, Izuku was very glad he was here when his dad was clearly not okay, on the other hand… what was that? What the hell had happened at the prison that made his dad unable to look at him? 

He pet Goose methodically, trying not to freak out. Pops didn’t need two people to worry about right now. Yamada came out, wringing his hands. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” Izuku asked. 

“Yeah kiddo,” Yamada put his hand around Izuku’s shoulder and guided him onto the couch. “He’ll be fine. I’m really sorry he acted like that, he hasn’t been this bad in a long time.” 

Izuku furrowed his eyebrows. “He’s been like this before? When?” He knew, theoretically, that hero work would leave mental scars but Aizawa was such a rock, Izuku was honestly kind of afraid of something that could throw his dad off like that. 

Yamada sighed. “The last time was about six years ago.” He said in a way that indicated he knew exactly what triggered this sort of thing. “When we were good last year I thought…” He trailed off. 

Izuku’s brain was going a mile a minute. Five year intervals… an anniversary then. But if it wasn’t that day today, why would he react this way? Unless. 

“Did Dad tell you exactly why Nedzu wanted him to see Kurogiri?” Izuku asked. 

Yamada frowned. “No, not entirely, just that he might be able to help, I assumed because of his quirk.” 

That was stupid, Dad should’ve told him. Izuku did his best to explain Nedzu’s thoughts, and Yamada got increasingly annoyed, then confused. 

“Well, for one, we should have discussed this before and we will be discussing it later, but really the only reason for this then would be–” Yamada cut himself off. “Oh dear.” 

That was not the response Izuku was looking for. “Are you going to elaborate?” 

Yamada exhaled slowly. “I think this is a family conversation. Shou should be back to functional in a few hours.” 

“So… I can stay for dinner?” He cracked a weak smile. 

That did get a small laugh. “Yeah, hun. You stay for dinner.” 

They delayed the meal until a bit later, Yamada hoping he might be able to get Aizawa to eat, while Izuku just steeped in his thoughts. 

The obvious conclusion was that his dad was Kurogiri’s Aizawa, but what did that mean? How did they know each other? 

Kurogiri… he really had been a person under all of that. The thought hit Izuku like a truck. It had been theoretical for so long, Izuku hadn’t fully processed the implications. The man had lost well over a dozen years of his life. And it was someone Aizawa knew, and cared about to be this upset. 

Izuku was distracted by the smell of spices, Yamada was making something warm and comforting. They all needed it. 

He saw the looming shadow of his dad before he heard him. Aizawa was still a bit slumped and the bags under his eyes were definitely designer, but he no longer looked like he’d seen a ghost and was moving on his own. 

“Think you can eat?” Izuku asked. 

The man nodded. “Mmm. I’m sorry, for saying what I did earlier. You’ll understand once I… explain, but it still wasn’t acceptable.” 

Izuku shook his head. “No, it’s okay–” 

“It’s not, Izuku.” His dad said firmly, and Izuku decided not to retort. 

“Feeling a bit better, Shou?” Yamada stood at the door of the kitchen, the light lines on his face particularly pronounced. 

“For now.” Aizawa nodded. “Let’s eat and maybe get some tea, we need to talk.” 

Izuku couldn’t take the waiting any longer, he texted Nedzu under the table at dinner, asking for just a hint of what had happened so he could at least stop spiraling. Nedzu gave him a nonanswer, that it was a personal issue, and his parents would be the best ones to explain this, which actually told Izuku a bit more than the rat probably intended to. 

Izuku finished as quick as he could, and put on some water, setting out a tray while Yamada cleaned up and Aizawa shifted awkwardly from here to there, lost in thought and not really able to be helpful. 

They perched around the coffee talk, unable to sit back comfortably as Aizawa fidgeted for a few more moments and then spoke. “There’s no way to ease into this.” He said, a statement which Izuku thought did the job fair enough. “Nedzu was right, about Kurogiri knowing an Aizawa, it was me. He was someone I knew.”

He looked at Yamada, eyes glossy in a way they never really got with he chronic dry-eye. “Someone we knew.” 

“Shou, I really need you to just say it, I can read between the lines but you need to say it.” Yamada’s voice shook slightly. 

“He was Oboro.” 

In an instant, Yamada broke down sobbing. Aizawa pulled him closer, letting his husband cry against his chest. 

Izuku didn't recognize the name, but it still shook him to see both men wrecked over a single word. He stayed quiet, waiting for one or both to offer explanation. Dreading what it could be as the moments stretched. 

Yamada straightened slightly, still sniffling, arms wrapped around Aizawa. "Do you remember the story I told you?" Yamada said. "About summer camp?"

It took a moment to pull up the memory, but Izuku did, what did that…? Oh.

"The boy with the cloud quirk?" He asked quietly. 

Aizawa looked between them, only seeming slightly surprised Izuku had any context for this. 

Yamada nodded, before his chest started shaking again and he couldn't get more words out. 

Aizawa picked up the story, explaining to Izuku the story of the trio's early years at UA. A close, hard fought, hard won friendship, plans for the future. All cut short in a work study accident, a villain attack that shouldn't have happened, that never made sense to Aizawa. Both the actual crime and the fact that in a single moment, their friend was gone. 

Izuku's chest clenched and pulsed around the restraints of sympathy or empathy or something else as he tried to correlate this teenager full of hope and life to the blank slate half man who raised him. He couldn't do it. Whatever had happened, whatever... procedure made Oboro into Kurogiri had destroyed the person he once was. Whether or not they could 'turn him back', that teenager died, and now his parents were not only mourning their friend once again, but having to come to terms with his fate worse than death. 

It was hours later, after several rounds of tea and a container and a half of ice cream, that the stories bled out. Izuku now intimately familiar with someone he'd likely never meet, a question on his lips that he was terrified to voice. 

Yamada did it for him. 

"Shou… do you think they can fix him?"

Aizawa stared at the coffee table for a moment. "Fixing is… relative. There's likely nothing they can do about his body, but with his reactions to strong memories from before… they might be able to, as Nedzu phrased it, 'jailbreak' his mind. 

Yamada nodded tightly, determined if still resigned to the possibility of failure. "We're going to try."

"Of course." Aizawa replied. 

Trying was all they could do.

Around two months before Izuku fled the bar, he left a training session with Toga scrapped up but still in one piece. 

The girl had grabbed Tomura as her next victim so instead of retreating directly to his room to lick his wounds, Izuku went to get the big first aid kit from the downstairs bathroom. That one might even have some ibuprofen in it. 

Kurogiri was there, standing over a pile of laundry in the washing machine nook on the bathroom's far side. 

Izuku made a faint noise of acknowledgement, pulling the kit out from the cabinet under the sink. He went to flop down on the floor so he could sort through the unorganized box but he noticed something odd in the corner of his eye. 

Kurogiri was dead still. The man would often stay stationary for extended periods of time, before he was needed or some chore grabbed his attention. But his shadows would always flickered around him, a constantly shifting outline. But not now. 

"Giri?" He asked, eyeing the man's solid, frozen outline. "Are you okay? Giri?"

The second one seemed to pull his attention. "Izuku." He didn't say anything else for a moment, the wisps of his form slowly, sluggishly beginning to move again.

Izuku let out a breath, glad this was a temporary lapse of… something. "You okay?"

Kurogiri was holding a pair of pants in one hand and an oddly shaped piece of plastic in the other. "Is this yours?"

Izuku took a second look and realized with a spike of dread that it was an empty jelly pouch, those were the pants he'd worn last night. He'd forgotten to toss his trash before he'd come back. 

"Yeah." He said, turning back to the kit for a moment, trying to give off an indifferent air. "Nicked it from a convenience store when I was out last night." Izuku had stolen from a lot of places, though rarely was he asked to vocally acknowledge it. 

Kurogiri stared at the pouch for another minute, yellow eyes wide and unfocused. "Did you like it?"

Izuku blinked. What? He couldn't imagine how that mattered or why the man wanted to know. 

He went with honesty. "Eh, it's okay. Doesn't taste bad but it’s not, like, food."

Kurogiri nodded slowly, dropping the pouch into the trash a bit more harshly than maybe he needed to.

"I told you." He said, voice distinctly gentle, breaking its eternal monotone. 

Izuku frowned. "Told me what?"

Kurogiri looked him in the eye. "It's not food."

"No…" Izuku trailed off, holding his gaze, unable to hide his confusion. 

Izuku saw the shiver that passed through the man's entire body. One blink. Then two. 

"You need food that is nutritious." He said, voice snapping back to normal, as if it had never left. "I'll start an early dinner." 

Kurogiri brushed past him, leaving the half-started laundry in a heap on the machine. Izuku watched him, eyes narrowed, trying to decide if Kurogiri had figured something out and was going to report it to his father. Or if maybe, just maybe, there was something underneath the mindlessness, as he'd always suspected but never been able to prove.

But he heard the sound of the bar counter slam down from the other room, as it always did when Giri stepped behind it, heading toward the kitchen. 

Maybe there was something there. And maybe someday Izuku could help. But right now, he was neck deep in a notebook that was occupying all his waking thoughts. 

Once he'd taken care of himself, he'd come back for Kurogiri. It wasn't a promise, but more of a goal.  Izuku doubted he would be able to keep himself alive if he did work up the courage to leave. But maybe he could do something. 

Maybe.