Archive of Our Own

Honestly, there was nothing Shouta loved more than a day where he didn't have to teach. He would love not teaching period, but he much preferred the kids getting life-saving information over him getting in a nap. It was close, but, in the end, it really wasn't close at all.

Regardless, if he could get a nap in, he always took his chance. So when Principal Nedzu announced that the hero courses would be taking a week to explore quirk theory and the like with professional guest speakers, Shouta hadn't entertained writing up any lesson plans. He took his chance to sleep throughout most of the weekend (when he wasn't asked to patrol, that was.)

He should have known. He should have known that the week wasn't going to go by normally. And he did, sort of, but Monday rolls around and half the students have their heads laid on their desks, the other half are writing hurriedly in their notebooks. It's as close to normal schooling that these hero students are going to get.

And then there's Midoriya. The kid has the guest speaker - a professor, mind you, a professor at a university where he talks about quirks every day - tripping over the absurd amount of rushed questions. And the poor kid hardly seems to notice just how frantic he makes the man. Try as he might, the old professor just could not have prepared himself for the onslaught of one Izuku Midoriya, fanboy extraordinaire (although Shouta's almost positive the man had hardly prepared in general, having expected little more than a classroom of bored teens.)

Needless to say, word travels fast. A bit too fast if you asked Aizawa.

The next day, Shouta does not roll into class in his yellow sleeping bag nor does he bother with the whole 'behave while I take a nap' speech. Because standing on their podium is none other than their world-class brilliant Principal Nedzu. He's there bright and early, tea in hand as he greets each student that walks in. They all notice, of course they do, and Shouta can't help but give them credit for how little it startles them. Some of them jolt, but most take the principal's presence in stride.

Perhaps they were expecting him to speak that day, or something like it. It's not as if Aizawa had given them the run-down on what the week would look like.

Izuku is one of the few that does react. He pauses in the doorway as he spots the principal, eyes widening with a sharp breath, quick to find Mr. Aizawa slouched behind his desk.

Shouta couldn't blame the kid for his wariness, not after the craziness that had been their first year at UA. They were hoping their second year would be less chaotic but, of all people, Midoriya would not be fooled. Sure, he had done a good job at acting as if the world had not been spun on its axel, but that was all it was: an act. He'd been in the center of every incident in the past year, more so than Shouta would have liked, and he'd walked out of it all relatively unscathed.

(Relatively being a rather... loose use of the term. There wasn't permanent damage yet and Shouta hadn't seen any major signs that the boy needed immediate help.)

That being said, Midoriya had proven to be one of the students that actively had a sort of constant vigilance that would put a few Pro-Heroes to shame. They wouldn't be getting anything past him any time soon and that's a fact Shouta's certain Nedzu picked up on.

His stomach drops when he sees the glint in those dark, beady eyes.

"G-good morning, Principal Nedzu," Midoriya greets, throat tight as he approaches the mammal, "will you be lecturing us today?"

Shouta's surprised Midoriya had been the first to ask. But, then again, most other students wouldn't care either way. And they weren't really worried. Sure, the USJ incident had happened the first week of classes the previous year but they weren't expecting such a thing to happen again. Plus, neither adult in the room seemed particularly tense. Regardless, warning flags were clearly going off in the boys head and his gaze swept to the window, peering outside before looking back to his superiors.

Then Nedzu laughs, something that perhaps should be comforting if not for the spilled tea and the intellect behind those dark eyes. It sends a chill down Shouta's spine. If it does the same for Midoriya, he does a good job at hiding it.

"No, I will not be lecturing you today, Midoriya-kun. I am merely interested in whatever it is Dr. Tanaka may have to say today. I was tempted to join you all yesterday with Professor Ito but I got hung up with the support class and their financial proposals! My apologies!"

"Ah, Hatsume-chan has probably already run through their budget, then?" And Midoriya laughs, it's strained but it's there, a knowing light to his eye.

"Ahaha! Yes, Hatsume-chan certainly is overflowing with ideas, which makes UA the perfect place for them, wouldn't you say? Quite bright, that one!" If Midoriya catches the sharpness of the principal's eye, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he gives a soft agreeance before turning to his desk, fingers tightening around the straps of his bag.

"Um, Principal?"

"Yes, Midoriya-kun?"

"When- when you say Dr. Tanaka, do you mean Yuna Tanaka who's currently a resident at Tohoku University?"

Shouta almost blanches when the principal doesn't cackle at the question. He has to remind himself to breathe as Nedzu softly places his tea on the podium, ceramic clicking against the wood.

"That is correct, Midoriya-kun. Dr. Tanaka has agreed to come and speak with you all, and on such short notice, too, so I hope you all treat her with the respect she deserves."

"O-of course, Principal, I- of course we will. I'm just-" he stops himself, a learned trait after years of rambling on for a bit too long. "She's quite known, I'm just surprised is all." And with that he turns, biting his lip to hold back a smile as he makes his way to his desk.

Nedzu's eyes follow him all the way and Shouta sinks into himself, stuffing his face into the folds of his capture scarf at the implications of whatever that was. He knew better than to get in the principal's way but sometimes it was hard. Hard not to speculate, at least.

He wonders, for a moment as he watches Midoriya pull out his books and a worn notebook, if Nedzu had known that Midoriya would know of the guest speaker. And, honestly, he's scared to ask.

The students continue trickling in until, finally, the bell rings and they're all seated. Some of them are staring at their principal, the others at Aizawa, tension almost palpable. It's one of the few times Aizawa's thankful for how many odd characters they have in the class. Unless the situation's serious, it's difficult for the atmosphere to grow stifling.

(Shouta resolutely denies that he appreciates the memes that Kaminari seems to always reference, or the way Kirishima will sometimes cry about the 'manliness' his classmates had in his dreams.)

"Good morning, students! Please, do not be bothered by my presence, I simply have a free period and wanted to enjoy your guest speaker alongside you. You will hardly notice me, I assure you, treat me as you would a plant, haha! I am pleased to introduce a well-known quirk expert that had agreed to speak with you all. Feel free to ask any questions and I'm sure she will be able to help you."

The door slides open just then, a quick movement that makes the students heads snap to the open door. It had been thrown open as if on cue, and, honestly, Shouta wouldn't be surprised if the principal had timed it that perfectly. As Dr. Tanaka walks in, dressed casually and far younger than Shouta had expected, the teacher slides out a sheet he'd thrown onto his desk the previous day. It had outlined a strict schedule of who would be speaking when and what Nedzu had expected of them.

Tuesday - Professor Yamamoto.

Shouta glances at the name, rereads it, trails down the list for the week before glancing at the principal. The principal who, in stride, welcomes their speaker and aids in her introduction, once again asking for a quiet respect from the rambunctious classroom.

Respect for a well-known figure in quirk theory that was not supposed to be speaking. Not Tuesday nor any other day of the week. She wasn't scheduled.

When had Nedzu changed that? How late had he called upon her, and for why?

As he glances across the classroom, his gut twists when he finds the starry-eyed Midoriya, pencil already in hand and lips forcibly pressed together in a controlled smile. He's trembling with excitement, foot tapping beneath his desk and every now and then his pencil taps against the cover of his notebook. His excitement is both palpable and subdued, something Shouta had been trying to subtly cultivate without scaring the kid away. It was an endeavor that Shouta wasn't sure he was succeeding in, but compared to the previous year, Midoriya wasn't anxiously mumbling all the time as much as he was breathing out his thoughts. And, unlike before, his classmates were used to it. Even Bakugo had stopped his relentless assault on the kid for his little habit. It wasn't hurting anyone, just a little startling at first.

Shouta, try as he might to come off as cold-hearted, didn't hate the kid's rambling. It had become a sort of background hum to their training exercises, something to tune in and out of as the battles would pass and students grew bored on the sidelines.

It helped that the kid always knew exactly what was happening. It was almost terrifying.

The lecture starts seamlessly, Principal Nedzu joining Aizawa as Dr. Tanaka begins with a short round of 'what do you know' and 'what I want to teach you.' She puts little effort into learning names and they can tell it goes in one ear and out the other, as if her mind were moving just a bit too fast and such information wasn't prone to sticking on those spinning gears. She sort of reminds Aizawa of that one kid in the support class, the one that apparently was friends or something with Midoriya, and it suddenly makes a whole lot of sense how this doctor got so high up even with her young age.

And then the questions start. Midoriya's really trying not to ramble through them all, Shouta can tell, but the kid's also failing. The words spill from his lips in a waterfall of words woven together by a string Aizawa can't quite follow.

It's almost comical how hard the boy's trying to stay coherent, forcing himself to pause and breathe, trying to slow his mouth even as his mind speeds up.

Somehow, she takes it all in stride. She never asks him to repeat or reword and, more often than not, just laughs before addressing all parts of the question. 

It's a testament to how well she follows, especially when Midoriya stares gobsmacked as if she were the first person to really do so. And then he smiles, something small and genuine, relief flooding his eyes. Shouta wouldn't be surprised if the boy started crying.

This, of course, just makes the kid more excited and talk even faster. Soon, it's as if they're in their own world, two quirk enthusiasts that can talk a few clicks faster than anyone bar Nedzu can comprehend. They slip into a conversation about abstract theories, using jargon that goes over the heads of most students. Some of them are diligently writing away, sometimes they even try to intercept with a question of their own. It doesn't break the trance for long but it lets the others have a chance to breathe.

Beside Shouta, Nedzu just laughs into his tea, trembling, eyes never straying from the vibrating form of the greenette.

"You really know your stuff, kid," she finally says with a laugh. Shouta doesn't miss how her eyes flick to the principal, even if it was only for half a second. A moment of understanding that explains all too much to the tired teacher.

Not on the list. Friend - or acquaintance - of Nedzu. Top of her field. Midoriya knows her by name.

The puzzle begins  piecing together almost perfectly. It's the sort of masterpiece that would only come from the mind of one Principal Nedzu. He surely had a plan, one Shouta was scared to watch unfold.

"A-ah, yeah." The stutter's back, Shouta notices, and he watches how Midoriya practically deflates, eyes snapping to his desk and shoulders pulling up. Shouta knows the kid's not doing it on purpose, but that's almost worse. Pumping the breaks hard, fast, and then crumpling. He hides, all muscles and strength, and yet he still cowers, almost, deflating into something fragile. As if he were trying to disappear.

He hates how easy it is, how learned, and how often Shouta had noticed such a thing and yet never recognized it.

He can feel how Nedzu notices it as well, ears twitching and head tilting at the shift. It was sudden and unprompted. Shouta would have been more surprised had he not dealt with such a trait throughout most of their first year. The kid had gained plenty of confidence but it never seemed to be enough, especially not when he was so outwardly complimented.

They don't stop his babbling, so he continues, shrinking further and further as the words grow less confident, more insecure, and he just curls further inward until it makes Shouta's shoulders ache in sympathy. Then he tucks his head down to his chest, his embarrassed flush only seen in his bright ears and the tip of his nose. "It's- I've kinda been- it's weird, I know, but, well, you get it, with your degree and all. Quirks are pretty amazing. I just like analyzing them, you know, since there are so many and they just keep getting more complex, which is kinda funny, when you think about it, 'cause-"

He mouth snaps shut.

It's abrupt, unprompted, and there's no one ready to pick up in the silence. It makes his peers look at him, all concerned and confused. But he doesn't pick it back up, doesn't say anything. He just stays crumpled, fingers twisted in the bottom of his shirt, Shouta's sure.

The other students twitch, shifting in the odd silence, because Midoriya isn't quiet. He doesn't sit there, paralyzed and still, waiting for their attention to deviate. He's always bright and energetic and social, always the center of the conversation, of the situation, with an enthusiasm the rest of the class can't help but follow.

This? Silent and still, all shallow breathes and bitten lips? All first-year anxieties as if there had been no growth at all? This isn't him.

(A part of Shouta worries that it is. That it's a forgotten sliver that Midoriya had pushed down, had ignored and tried to forget. And it's rearing its ugly head for the first time.)

"Um, sorry, I'll- I'm- sorry."

The others fidget at that, alarmed, eyes wide and lips twitching. An argument, perhaps, and that was learned as well. Midoriya needed people like that in his corner, after all. People that fought against his intrusive thoughts tooth and nail until they were muffled and gagged.

A laugh at the front of the room breaks the tension, clean and quick and it lets them all breathe, a calm, slow, relieved exhale as the woman speaks up, eyes sparkling with nothing less than harmless amusement.

"You analyze quirks? I don't know a lot of kids your age that do that." He fidgets under the question, green eyes flicking up to look at her through his bangs. He nods, a short movement full of more insecurity than she thought he had. He must have fallen into the flow of things, able to talk freely on such a beloved hyper fixation that he'd hardly even noticed. It washed away all doubt, if only for the short time he'd been able to do so, like a spell that he'd happily be put under again.

And she wants that.

Dr. Yuna Tanaka had received the call Monday, and typically making such a trip to talk to some class of second years would be out of the question, especially with less than 24 hours of notice, but Nedzu had been surprisingly insistent.

I think you'll like what you'll find, Dr. Tanaka, he'd said with that cackle of a laugh, something too close to insanity for comfort. But she toed that line herself more often than not and so she'd taken him up on his offer.

After all, if Nedzu thought the trip would be worth it, then it probably would be.

Looking at this kid, listening to him ramble almost too fast for her, asking questions that really got her thinking, it makes her smile. There's a tsunami of intelligence in those eyes and while it's buried beneath way too much unearned insecurity, it has her blood rushing in her ears and she can't quite wipe the smile off her face. "What's your name again?"

"I'm- I'm Midoriya Izuku." The name sticks immediately, and she repeats it three times in her head, Midoriya, Midoriya, Midoriya, her brain working around new information that was well worth retaining.

"How long have you been analyzing quirks?" Izuku shrugs at that, a half-hearted movement followed by a mumble that sounds suspiciously like 'only a few years.' A downplay, Dr. Tanaka's sure.

The scoff from the boy in front of him only proves her theory.

"Nerd's been analyzing quirks almost as long as I've known him," the boy says gruffly, shooting the greenette a hot glare. He doesn't flinch, which that's a good sign, but he does give a short - adorable - eep, arms crossing over his massive curls. "At least since we were six." Midoriya flushes red at that and it burns the back of his neck, crawling up to his ears and tightening around his throat in embarrassment. He stammers at that, something that doesn't quite connect to anything coherent and far from the confident quirk analyst that Dr. Tanaka had been bouncing off of mere minutes before.

They were second years, so that was easily nine years of quirk analysis, something that, at least eventually, became founded in heavy research. The kid knew his stuff and that was clearly based off years of hard work.

"Would you mind sharing some of your analysis?" His body goes rigid at that, head shooting up and blood rushing from his face, making dark freckles pop out against pale skin. "I'm sure that would provide a more practical avenue for your classmates. All this jargon is probably quite boring to anyone not interested." He gapes for a second, skin tingling and ears buzzing as he tries to process that- that the Dr. Tanaka- that she-

He breathes.

In...

Hold.

Out.

With a slow, steady breath, the tense muscles in his jaw relax. And while his eyes remain clouded with insecurity as if waiting for her to take it back, he nods.

"Oh, I'd- sure, but I don't think that's smart?" He pauses at that, head tilting but at least he's talking again, even if it's peppered with stutters and an anxious edge that sat heavy on his chest. Then he pauses and waves his hands in front of him, a physical expelling of words and energy, anxiety spiking with a sharp breath. "Not- not that I'm saying it isn't a smart idea; you're smart, I don't- I mean- I don't want you to think I don't know that. Your idea, it- makes sense, I suppose, but uh, the way I analyze, how do I say it... it's- it could be dangerous. I analyze Pro-Hero's and, well, I don't really want to broadcast what I think to be a hero's weakness, you know? I don't really share what I write, it's really just for fun."

And it was, it was just for fun, for him, for a future in heroics that he'd always dreamed of but never actually expected.

"A matter of national security, then." And that makes Izuku jolt because yeah, that could be it but he hadn't really thought of it in that way. The flush that envelopes him is hot, scalding against his cheeks and burning around his eyes and he can't breathe, it isn't- his analyses aren't- "Then would you mind analyzing my quirk? I'm no hero and honestly, I hardly ever use it. I followed my passion, not my quirk-calling."

He breathes at that. It comes out tight and forced but he's been in enough anxiety-inducing situations that it's easy enough. In, out, release the tension of his shoulders and unclench this hands. They burn and his joints ache but he's fine. He's fine.

Then the words process and he's reeling, brain short-circuiting as she just stares at him.

"E-eh? Now? During- during class? You're doing a lecture, I don't want to-"

"As I said, I think it would provide something practical for your classmates, and useful for you. I'll help plug in holes where I find any, so don't be too worried." She's giving him every rope she can, every lifeline he might need, but she has a feeling that it isn't quite necessary. Just in case, though. Just in case.

"Um, uh, okay, I- I guess. How do you want me to...?"

"Oh, how do you do your analyses? I know people have their own way to organize. I always start with the quirk name and it's general definition and go from there."

"Yeah, that's where everyone should start." She almost laughs at that, because sure, it does make the most logical sense, only, most people don't analyze in the first place. Something that would certainly be common sense if more people stumbled across such a thing. "I've just- well, I've always had a rough time since I analyze heroes, and hero's don't really broadcast what exactly their quirk is. That's something the public just sort of figures out once they get the name and see them in action enough, which is really advantageous for underground heroes like Erase- Aiza- Eraserhead. But, um, yeah." They ignore the stumble, although it does catch Shouta's attention for the brief moment green eyes flickered his way.

"Oh! That... makes sense. Let's pretend that I'm a Pro-Hero then, I'd really like to see your process. Do you start from scratch or hero forums?"

"It depends? I mean, if it's a hero I see a lot - like Kamui Woods, he's always in the area - I like to start from scratch. Forums can be full of a lot of uneducated conjecture and I'd rather just do it on my own, watching videos or going to the scene- not- not that I would get too close, but, well, you know, crowds like to gather around heroes when they're on duty so it's not that hard to do. But, uh, once you know enough about a hero and their quirk, you can figure out pretty quickly what's useful in the forums." They know that he hardly notices how he's tapping his pencil against his desk, the eraser mutely thudding against the wood, but it's a welcome stim that's more comforting than annoying. An affirmation that he's settling back into himself. "Like, like Hawks pops up a lot but sometimes people will ask if he has more bird-like qualities and go down that rabbit hole, but really that's ridiculous. Hawks just has wings, it'd make more sense to go down that path with someone that's more bird-like like Tokoyami... uh, sorry, don't- don't worry, I know you don't lay eggs, but it's ridiculous that some people question whether Hawks does; he clearly doesn't. But, like, for- for you, it wouldn't be ridiculous to find a forum asking about what your diet might be because of the beak. Not that I- I'm not- I- sorry."

Tokoyami just nods and shrugs, offering a silent support that he isn't offended by the boys words. It's a needed reassurance that makes Izuku sag in relief.

"I... see. You talk pretty fast," Dr. Tanaka says after a moment. While she had dealt with the boys quick questions, this was different. This was an educated ramble absent of pauses for another's input. It so seamlessly falls from his lips as if he'd been doing so for years. And, for the short time she'd interacted with him, she knows that's very well the case.

"I- sorry." He sags, again, shoulders pulling up and that, more than anything else, just makes her more concerned for the tension he must hold there.

"Don't be. I'm surprised it's coherent, is all, but I'm following."

"Oh- okay. Then, I guess if you- if you really want me to analyze your quirk, we could start with what you call it? I find that that's pretty useful, actually. I mean, I know not everyone names their own quirk; sometimes it's the parents or people around them, but when a person names their own quirk, that can give a lot of insight into what they think their quirk is or its uses, you know? Plus, it helps to know what a person thinks about their quirk, like, um, when you think of villains. I-it's pretty obvious when they view their quirk as 'villainous' but I don't really think any quirk is villainous." Mindlessly, he's flipping through the pages of his notebook.

He hardly notices, though, and they can tell. Flipping through memorized pages, eyes a tad zoned out as he just goes through the actions. It's... endearing, honestly; he's comfortable. "I've been thinking about this a lot with Shigaraki, actually! Cause, I mean, his quirk's Decay and that's a pretty intense name, but it'd be more helpful in the real world if he called it something like 'disintegration' or, uh, 'dissolve,' even. Although I've been wondering if it's actually 'dehydration' because he - not that anyone really knows this - but he has really dry skin and that could be a- a backlash from his quirk. But if he named it something else, that'd really minimize the public's fear. I mean, of course he's going for the fear route so 'decay' makes sense, but what about other people that name their quirks something that people, I don't know, fear? A quirk's name really does a lot for the public opinion, you know?"

She stares for a second, flabbergasted, blinking and waiting until Izuku apologizes again, eyes dropping and ears burning because he'd gone off rambling again, and even though it wasn't unprompted, she hadn't really asked for him to do all that.

"I'm..." She pauses and stares at the teen. She'd thought they'd been going toe to toe with their previous banter, something chalk full of references and theories and information not wide-spread. But this? This was something pulled from his own mind, from ideas he'd stumbled across and mulled over for years no doubt. "I'm almost ashamed to have not thought of that before." She admits, mind spinning, all centered around this new kid, Midoriya, someone that she's sure will come up in a quirk-analyst journal before long. She's surprised he hadn't come up already as some sort of prodigy. "I named my own quirk 'bat.'"

"Bat?" And then there's the tell-tale scratch of lead on paper before it stops, eyes flicking up to the professional. "Do you mind if I write? About your quirk? It- it helps to organize it."

She wonders if he has notebooks full from all that his mind does. She wouldn't mind being a part of that library. Honestly, it'd be an honor.

"Of course."

"Would you mind if I asked a few questions? Or- is it- does it have to do with high frequencies?" She blinks at the question, breaths shallow and eyes wide in fascination.

"It... does."

"Oh, that's cool. I'll assume you can hear high frequencies, but can you emit them too? Like, if you heard a bat make a sound, could you repeat it back to them?"

"I can."

"Okay, that- okay. So-" he stops himself again, but this time it's to focus on the writing. A hand finds its way into his hair - his right hand - as his left scribbles across his paper in familiar chicken scratch. "You- you probably consider it an emitter quirk, then, right?"

"I do."

"Interesting." He ruffles his hair at that, pencil scratching something definite, curls twisting beneath his fingers and making his hair fluff up more than what should be possible. Like a bush or a bundle of vines, curls all twisted together, or perhaps that was how he kept it so voluminous. His 'secret,' if it could be called that.

"Interesting?" He pauses and looks up at her, lips pursed as he taps his pencil against his desk.

"Uh, yeah, it's- it's interesting, 'cause, well, I don't..." He pauses again and pinches his lip between forefinger and thumb, pencil held delicately between the other fingers in a manner that's more than familiar. "Would you mind if I, uh, looked? At your ears?" The question catches them all of guard and what's better is how he doesn't even seem to notice. He's so entranced by what little he'd already written down that he hardly processes what he'd asked.

And then he does and he flushes red again, so bright and cherry-colored that his classmates can't help but laugh (the whisper of strawberry goes unnoticed.) "N-nevermind, I'm sorry, that's weird and invasive and I'd be in your personal space and I shouldn't have asked and-"

"Sure." His near-hyperventilation stops abruptly, the spiral of anxiety halting as if the gears were forced to a stop. Dr. Tanaka's calm as she looks to him, a curious smile on her lips. It's small and genuine and- and sure?

"Huh?"

"You can look at my ears, though I'm not sure what you'll find."

"Oh, uh, okay, I won't- I won't touch them, I promise I just-" he's already moving, scrambling to stand and still anxious that she'll take it back or be weirded out or- well, there's so many what-ifs and yet she doesn't stop him. Says nothing and soon he's asking her to sit down and tilt her head this way and that, worrying his pencil between his teeth and as he flicks his eyes to whatever notes he'd already managed to take. He's careful and, as he'd already said, doesn't touch her, although his hands hover inches away. "Oh," he breathes and, without a thought, takes his pencil out from between his teeth and starts to sketch. She doesn't seem to mind and, honestly, if she had shown a sign of discomfort he probably wouldn't have even noticed. "I- oh."

When he steps back, he doesn't say anything clear enough for any of them to really catch. She waits for his mumbling to slow, knowing that he isn't quite talking to her yet. For how she likes her mind to spiral with new ideas, that wasn't to say Dr. Tanaka was incapable of staying still and waiting. Her patience left things to be desired, but she was too eager for the results to rush the kid. Then he steps back, pencil lightly scratching against the paper before coming to a full stop. His expression isn't tight, but rather open with a curiosity Dr. Tanaka has felt one too many times (and yet not nearly enough, not nearly.)

"Well?"

"Oh! Well, I- you know Dr. Garaki's quirk theory? The Quirk Singularity, some people call it the Doomsday Theory?-" he doesn't wait for a response, just plows through, "-well, there's an aspect of it that I don't- I've not really seen it anywhere, I don't think, but the theory has already sorta proven itself, as we all know, but when you think about it, alongside all these quirks combining and evolving, they're, uh- well, people classify quirks into three categories, right? We have emitter - which you identify as - and then there's mutation and transformation, right? Well, I don't- I don't really think that's the case anymore? And, yeah, most people fit in those three categories, sure, but not everyone. Such as you, you consider yours to be an emitter type, probably because it's so similar to Present Mic's and his is textbook emitter, right? But, no, it's not. They're combining. It's not that obvious but they are. Like yours, your ears, they wouldn't have suddenly become like that the moment your quirk manifested. Instead, you were probably born with those ears.

"They're a bit different than a normal human ear. They let you pick up those high frequencies. When you were younger, you just probably didn't notice it as much, or something like that. Or maybe you did and this is all useless conjecture. But, you were born with those ears, so technically that would make your quirk a mutant one. However, you can produce those higher frequencies and that isn't something innately in your vocal chords. It's definitely emitter. If it weren't, your voice wouldn't really be able to sound like a normal person's, I don't think, but clearly you have no problem using frequencies we all can hear and understand, and it doesn't seem to cause any strain to your vocal chords as far as I can tell. Maybe that's something you should get checked out, just in case.

"So that makes me think your quirk is both an emitter and a mutant one, which, I know that seems weird but I've started to see it more and more, especially with your generation and younger. I've actually been toying with the idea that Present Mic might be the same but I haven't really had the chance to ask. That isn't- it isn't really something th-that's, uh, I mean, that's a hard thing to bring up, you know? But if Present Mic's quirk were solely an emitter-type, then that would mean that his body - his ears - wouldn't be able to stand the volume he can produce. And even if they can, it wouldn't be for long, so I have a whole section sort of dedicated to the potential downsides of his quirk if it really is just an emitter-type. But I really think it's like yours, if I'm being honest. He's been a Pro-Hero for long enough and has been training his quirk for longer, so by this point he's either deaf or has a mutant-advantage which is- that's what I call it. It, I think it works, but maybe it's just dumb..."

They're surprised when he stops, but perhaps they're more surprised that he isn't gasping for breath as if he hadn't just spilled all that out so quickly in so few breaths, rambling on in  an almost indiscernible way. But he's stopped and he's staring, eyes more trained on his notebook than the person in question, brows furrowed and lips once again pinched between his fingers, mumbling lightly under his breath.

"Have you... talked to anyone about that?" The question jolts him back to reality but he doesn't flush red this time. Instead, he just shakes his head with a wry smile.

"No- no, of course not. At this point, it's just some quirk-related conjecture, I only have a few... pages dedicated to it, so it's not- I don't- no?"

Dr. Tanaka decides to not be worried about just how torn the kid is. For now, he's just a second year and they can still work out these insecurities. Should they follow him well into adult life when they're quite obviously undeserved, then she'd have a problem.

"I would like to see what you have written."

"R-really? Are you sure? I mean, I don't doubt you but it's not really-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, Midoriya." Izuku stops, rocks back on his heels, and nods. "I think you're onto something and I'm serious. You could easily fund some sort of study through scholarships, hell, I'd even help you. I'd gladly help you, and the sooner you do it, the better."

"Oh, it's not-"

"I don't know why your doubting yourself so much. I'm telling you you're on to something." He stares at her for that moment, fingers toying with a worn corner of his notebook as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

"O-okay?"

"We are gonna talk about this later, but now I'd really like to see how you'd analyze my quirk. We haven't gotten there yet, right?"

"R-right. I- okay, yeah. Sure." And then he flips the page, as if he'd already written it all down or hadn't even started, either of which are both impressive and terrifying. "So, you call it 'bat' because of the high frequencies, so I'd guess its uses would rely in catching those frequencies. An obvious use for it would be something that includes dogs, and I know that sounds weird but people really care about their pets, so you'd actually become pretty popular if you were efficient at returning a lot of dogs. Outside of that, if a villain were trying to do something under the radar that involved a sort of high-frequency technology, you'd be able to notice it right away and pinpoint it before any damage were done.

"I- I wouldn't really be able to tell you all of it's uses without more research on what does emit such high frequencies. I can't really delve into weakness without knowing it's limits, so, do you catch exceptionally low frequencies or is it only high? I think, I mean, looking at your ears, they're not exceptionally bat-like, you know? If they were, I think the pinna would be bigger, and there are clearly more or different muscles, so you can control the movement and rotation of your ear, although I don't know how much mobility you do have." He leans in to look at her ear, eyeing it once more and she lets him, knowing full well that he's fallen back into the zone and is most likely unaware of everyone else in the room. "But, again, the pinna - I'm- I'm sorry, I guess you'd just call it the ear itself? The, uh, shell, I guess? - it's not as large as you'd think for a bat. If it were, you'd be something like- like Mirko, the Rabbit Hero.

"So then that begs the question of- of if you can catch lower frequencies, and if that's the case then I'd consider changing the name of your quirk, and it'd open a whole new avenue for you. You'd be able to help improve sound-recording technology, making sure it picks up all the available frequencies, let alone the- the, uh, possibilities for echolocation above or below water, like the Pro-Hero Selkie, and even in regards to whales, you'd be able to discern the type of whale or where they were or, maybe even, if you trained it enough, what they might be trying to communicate, you know? But then that's under the assumption that your ears would work just as well underwater. If they really are just bat ears, I don't imagine they've evolved for such a use, so I'd be careful about that."

This time, Tanaka cuts him off as his mumbles grow softer, more introspective, mind whirling but not quite sticking in the same way.

"Just so I've understood this right, you organize by a general understanding, then there's strengths and weaknesses?"

"Oh, um, yeah, and then sometimes I do a section on ways to, uh, improve a quirk. Like, yours might include a recording device so you could look back on the frequencies if need be, or, depending on research or training, you might even need something to cover your ears just in case, or perhaps an amplifier like Present Mic but I- I can't really tell yet, since your not, well, a Pro-Hero, and I haven't really seen your quirk."

That makes more than enough sense, but, more than anything, it just makes her twitch with excitement, eyes aflame and a smile pulling at her lips.

"Would you mind if I looked at an analysis of yours? Just one, your choice, it could be one that doesn't matter in the slightest."

"Oh, um..."

"It's okay if not, national security and all." He twitches again at that, an argument on the tip of his tongue because no, it's not a matter of national security, he doesn't have that much power. Only, he can't pretend that that isn't his reasoning, just worded differently. Worded in a way that makes him almost... dangerous.

"Oh, no that's not- I mean, it is but, well, I-" a controlled breath that sounds suspiciously like his lungs are trembling. Then his eyes fall and he forces another breath, shoulders slumping in defeat as he fingers the pages of his notebook. "It's not really legible."

"No doctor has good hand writing."

"That's not, I mean, mine is chicken scratch but it's more, um, it's- it's coded. Just in case."

"Coded?"

"I made up a code a few years back, just in case cause, well, I- I try to go really in-depth and I'd hate for a villain to get their hands on it so..."

"So you made up a code for hero analysis?"

He bites his lip and nods, and, again - something that is clearly still a problem, one that makes Shouta silently sigh - he crumples in on himself and bites his bottom lip, an anxious tremble taking hold of his insides. He bites a bit harder on his lip as those anxieties roll through him, zapping at his energy in a familiar and discomforting way, crawling on spider legs and spreading through his chest. His teeth don't puncture the soft skin of his lip but it stings, the sensation sharp and grounding.

He rocks slowly on his feet, from one to the other, rolling from his toes to his heels.

"A self-made code, you say?" A voice pipes up and Midoriya jumps, full on, yelp and everything as he spins around to find Principal Nedzu behind him, hands behind his back and eyes gleaming up at him. "Could I see the analysis on, say, Present Mic?"

"P-Principal Nedzu! I- uh, of- of course you can. I'll just-" He's fidgeting and his eyes a blown wide, fingers twitching and back tense as he looks at the animal that had opted to stand on a students unused desk (they didn't need to take notes, after all. It was all lecture and Midoriya.) Midoriya's trembling as he rambles, eyes only leaving the principal to make sure he doesn't bump into anything, fingers twitching as they go through his open bag to pull out his analysis notebook. Thankfully, Present Mic's was in there (he was working on redoing it, his and all the other heroes that he now had as teachers.) "It's- it's not complete, but this- this one is coded. I've been, uh, redoing some in this notebook and I-"

'That is quite alright, Midoriya-kun! Would you mind if I held onto this for the day?" The question is more of a formality but Midoriya twitches, a no on the tip of his tongue, face twisted with conflict.

"Um, s-sure."

"Stop by my office at lunch time then, please. I believe that will be before your class with Present Mic so it should not hinder your continued analysis of your teacher's quirk."

"Th-thank you." The words fall from numb lips, that much is obvious. Deku's still, legs stiff and eyes wide yet unseeing, drifting to just above Nedzu's head and mouth hung open in thought. Nedzu doesn't say anything, just turns to face the class with a pleasant smile.

"And with that, it seems we have a clean wrap up. Thank you, Dr. Tanaka for coming in and speaking to my students on this day, I'm sure they now know more today than they did yesterday." And the bell rings seconds after the Principal's last word, clearly timed perfectly, so much so that the students gawk before haphazardly throwing their belongings into their bags and rushing from the room.

Midoriya stands stock-still as the chaos whirls around him, unblinking eyes trailing down to his notebook, mind sifting through pages of memorized analysis and double checking everything he had said in front of the Dr. Yuna Tanaka.

"Midoriya." 

He jumps a good few inches at the word but spins to find a rather calm Dr. Tanaka, face the picture of controlled madness. He's seen that glint before, more often than not in Hatsume's eyes, although even Mr. Aizawa had fallen victim to the insanity of, well, hero society, he supposes.

"Y-yeah?" She doesn't answer with words. Instead, she's holding out a small, dark card. He takes it, fingers trembling before firmly grasping it and twisting.

His eyes bulge at the information cleanly printed on it in red and white words.

"I'll get your contact information from Nedzu, if you don't mind. I'd love to follow up with you on this whole 'mutant-advantage' theory. And feel free to contact me in case there was something you missed today."

"Doc-Doctor Tanaka, I- this is-"

"Just say thank you, Midoriya."

"Thank you!" He squeals, stars in his eyes that mirror the freckles on his cheeks, bight and shining with too much excitement for how early the day still is.

"No problem. And I mean it, I'll be expecting you to contact me, okay?"

"O-okay?" He's so utterly insecure and worried and confused but, more than anything, he's excited. He's smiling, something shy and sweet, hidden as he tilts his head down and tucks himself behind his notebook.

"Actually, would you mind sending your quirk analysis of me? I don't have the best memory."

"Of course." With each sentence from her mouth, he grows more confident, more star-struck and excited, and that debilitating anxiety ebbs away.

It's a start, she thinks, and when she catches Nedzu's eye as he isn't quickly flipping through the boys notebook. Instead, he takes his time - be that through just how complex of a code the kid must have or to mull over the analysis - and she knows his confidence will only grow.

There was a reason Nedzu had called upon her, after all. And even if that reason was just to see what she would pull out of Midoriya, she was fine with that. She loves meeting people like him. Bright, curious, intelligent and able to bring themselves and their skills to a prodigal level that was astounding. It was awe-inspiring and she's twitching to get back to her lab to begin research of her own.

What a bright kid. Midoriya, Midoriya, Midoriya Izuku.