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Just A Bit Of Theater

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~Exactly the title, just in the wrong circumstance.~


“You want me to what?!”


“You want Deku-kun to what.


Izuku sort of can’t believe his ears— he’d known they’d be doing something specific for internships, but he hadn’t— well, he hadn’t expected this…


“Er-- you'd like Midoriya-kun to act, Aizawa-sensei?” Kirishima clarifies, mortification continuing to climb up Izuku’s ears. 


They had been assigned to retrieve Eri-chan, the little girl held captive by the Shie Hassaikai, as per their internships. Izuku has been ready to jump into any kind of action along with Mirio-senpai, but, er… 


“Well, I didn’t expect this, kero.” 


Izuku hadn’t known that this would be the course of action they were taking… 


Tsuyu stares at their teacher, perturbed, as Midoriya Izuku flushes to his neck in crimson. 


“You want me to act?” He mumbles again, disbelieving. 


“You brats,” Aizawa-sensei says with a sigh, though there isn’t any real venom behind it. “Let me finish.” They all stare at him expectantly, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’d be posing as Eri-chan’s new babysitter. We just need a confirmation of their hideout, without causing Eri any more suffering.”


A beat.


“You want me to act to get into a yakuza hideout?!” Izuku cries out, utterly horrified at the prospect, and rightly so, thank you very much! 


“I really didn’t want to share this with all of you brats, but in essence, yes.” Aizawa looks at the internship students with a raised eyebrow. Izuku bursts into giggles, perhaps a tad too bright, trying not to lose his fucking mind, because the world had to be punishing him. 


“Why me?” He squeaks, hiccuping and swallowing down the remaining giggles that are tempted to bubble out of him. What would Nighteye say to this? 


“You've already established a connection with Eri, and Chisaki hasn’t actually seen your face thanks to the hood and visor.” 


Damn his ingenuity. 


Izuku quirks an eyebrow at him, still disbelieving that the Heroes would put their entire operation on the back of a single. Teenage. Boy. 


Izuku was going to have words with Nedzu during their afternoon tea when he got back, presuming he hadn’t been, oh, completely unmade and murdered by Chisaki’s ungodly Quirk. 


“And you’d like me to play babysitter?” Izuku asks, and his voice only comes out a bit less squeaky now. “Someone who is accustomed to being around villains?” 


He sees Uraraka trying her best not to burst into hysterical laughter herself, and can’t disagree with her— he can’t shake the feeling that they’re all totally, completely dead.  


“Yes. You’d essentially be infiltrating.” 


“There are so many people better suited for this job,” Izuku hisses to himself, tangling his hands in his curls and trying his best not to think of Mirio, who could literally become intangible, or Shinsou, whom the world had no idea about and had the ability to make people forget they saw him.  


“Deku-kun, this is crazy!” Uraraka says. Izuku shoots her a smile that oozes of ‘Oh, you think?’ But Aizawa-sensei, for whatever reason, seems to hold full confidence in him. 


“You’d be so manly!” 


“Except I’m recognized internationally as a Hero student, Kirishima-kun,” Izuku says faintly. 


“Midoriya,” Aizawa-sensei says, and Izuku stares at him, wondering if the man was an imposter or Toga-chan or something and was ready to watch him explode so she could taste his blood. 


“Yes, sir?” Usually he’d be stammering by now, but Izuku legitimately can’t bring himself to keep from hysterically giggling at the thought that he’d be infiltrating a yakuza base by himself. 


Aizawa-sensei— no, Eraserhead, Eraserhead’s eyes twinkle and Izuku swears there’s a hint of mischief there. “Why don’t you give us a demonstration?” 




“So tell me,” Rock Lock says at their final meeting. Izuku clenches his death cushion, because he knows what question is about to be asked. “Who is doing the infiltration?” 


There’s a moment of silence before Izuku raises his hand, slowly. 


There’s another moment of silence when Rock Lock, Nighteye, and Mirio-senpai all blink at him, perplexed. 


And then the uproar.


“You’re sending a child in to do a Pro Hero’s job.” Rock Lock says flatly, staring Eraserhead dead in the eyes. 


Fatgum makes some noise reminiscent of a deflating balloon animal, and Nighteye takes off his glasses, rubbing his brow. 


“What has this world come to…?” 


“Midoriya… you’re actually… you’re going to do this?” Mirio-senpai looks at him, a myriad of emotions flirting across and clashing on his face— in the purse of his lips, the shine of his eyes, the wrinkle between his brows— and Izuku does his best to shoot back a semi-confident smile. 


“Yeah, haha, who would have guessed, right?” He says, rubbing the back of his neck, because Midoriya Izuku would never be your first choice for an actor— always crying too easily, blushing too readily, too noticeable, too flashy— 


The joke is on everyone else, however, because Midoriya Izuku is an incredible actor. 


It’s a shame, really, that the Heroes, in all their uproar, don’t note Aizawa-sensei’s oddly solemn attitude, or the way Kirishima’s eyes gleam. 


Sure, it was dangerous, but if anyone could pull it off properly, it would be Izuku. 


Well. He hoped. 




It was go-time— the beginning of the mission was just a half hour away, and everything’s expended on Izuku and how he acted. 


It was a mite bit terrifying— Izuku personally thought he was rather terrible at acting, even if others said otherwise— but Izuku also couldn’t wait for the rest of the team to make a concrete move outside of this. 


They couldn’t hurt Eri-chan any longer. She’d suffered too much already.


Izuku pats the prosthetic on his cheeks and pouts at how angular they’ve made his face. 


The blue contacts and black hair dye had certainly worked wonders on his appearance, as had— he embarrassingly admitted to— the wedges in his shoes making him taller. Baggy, nondescript clothes, no Hero costume (and wasn’t that terrifying, going in with nothing but his Quirk and his wit, in a place where his Quirk could be taken away—) , and a bit of a disguise that anyone with an analytical Quirk could see right through, but here they were. 


Izuku took a deep breath, waved to his teacher, and then began the trek over to where the strong-hold was speculated to be. 


So many what-ifs they made Izuku nauseated, really. 




In the end, it had been laughably easy, so much so that Izuku had bewilderedly stood by as they fussed over Eri, looking about at the sidewalks and listening to the sirens and asking if he was needed anywhere else, because that had been— well— too easy. 


He’d just— he’d walked right in, bullied the guards a bit, maybe let his eyes flash a few times. And then he was in, as their newly hired babysitter, no he didn’t have the qualifications but who gave a frick, you I made this little girl every chance you got in the name of obsession, frick you. 


And then he’d walked to Eri-chan’s bedroom, citing getting to know the girl as an excuse, and had waltzed right back out with her in tow. 


How ridiculous was that? They hadn’t even needed Shinsou, who was there because Izuku needed a backup plan for his sanity, and that was saying something. 


Eri-chan had waved as Izuku had walked away, calling his mom and stripping away his disguise. He’d waved back, distracted, and had forgotten all about anything until the next day, dead to the world. 




When he’d come into class, everyone had somehow known of his endeavors, and he was thoroughly accosted. 


“You acted?! You played a part and you brought down an entire yakuza gang?” Kaminari sputters, incredulous. Izuku rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. 


“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way…”


“I’m sure he did an admirable job!!”


“It was interesting, kero.”


“Deku-kun was badass!”


“Man, I can’t see Midoriya doing anything like that, though…” Kaminari murmurs, evidently louder then he’d meant it to be. “Nothing against you, of course!” He says sheepishly, and Izuku blushes. 


“Y-yeah… it’s nothing special…” 


“Midoriya,” Kirishima says, unusually serious. Everyone pauses and looks to him, and then he grins. “Bakugo impression, now. Go.” 


The class stares at Izuku’s down-turned glance, and a single, disbelieving moment passes before they realize he won’t actually do it— 


“HAAH?! What do you think you’re doing, fucking Shitty Hair bossing me around like that, you fucker?! I do what I want!” Izuku says, head snapping up with barely-restrained irritation. 


Ashido gasps and Uraraka screeches as he continues. 


At one point, Izuku’s tie goes missing, and he slumps into Kacchan’s— no, no it’s his seat right now, damn it— seat, and shoves his feet on his desk. 


“Whoa, Midoriya! That’s really good!” Sero says. 


Izuku turns to him, scrunching his brows, a scowl upturning a corner of his mouth. 


What the fuck did you just call me, Soy-sauce Face? Did you just mistake me for the fucking hot mess over there? That one, haah?” He jabs a finger towards Izuku’s precious desk.


It’s chaos— the class is in uproar, Kaminari is staring, and Kouda has fallen off of his chair. 


Of course, this is the moment Kacchan walks in, and stares at Izuku in his chair in disbelief and takes in Izuku’s scowl. 


“What the fuck—"


“You got something to say, Kacchan?” Izuku asks, faux-sweet syrup in his tone. 


“How does he make that sound intimidating? How?” Jirou mutters. 


Everyone else stares at Kacchan, gazing at his reaction. 


To everyone’s surprise, he sneers and sits in Izuku’s seat, before turning around.


“Shitty Hair,” he says, pointing at Kirishima, and Izuku grins, sharp and fierce, slamming his two fists together, a new brightness to his eyes. 


“Aw yeah! That was so manly, Bakubro!” 


“Pikachu.” Kacchan is grinning now as Izuku slumps backwards. 


“Maaaan, the essay Aizawa-sensei gave was sooo hard~ I totally failed…” 


“Glasses.” Izuku gasps in mock horror and brings his arms up. 


“Bakugo-kun, I must insist against your crass usage of nicknames for this class! As future heroes, we must—"


“Round face.” Izuku jumps up, pumping a fist, and then sits back down, holding his cheeks.


“Oh sheesh, sorry! I’m just super excited for this, ya know? I’ll prove myself to everyone!” 


And so on and so forth, Izuku does impressions until Aizawa-sensei eventually comes in and the warning bell rings. 


Izuku and Kacchan silently switch seats, but at the last second Tsuyu-chan smiles at him, placid, and says the last one. 




There’s a moment of anticipation— most of the class thinks he’ll just be cut off by Aizawa-sensei, since class is starting so soon anyway, but he doesn’t, and Izuku turns with a sinister, dangerous look on his face—


Lightning cascades down the length of his arms and his eyes glow in savage green, before a sort of insanity settles in his eyes, an aura not unlike the Hero Killer’s permeates the classroom. 


“You don’t command me,” Izuku sneers, an unrepentant smirk on his face. “I control you, dear, and it’d be best if you didn’t forget it.” 


His grin widens so far that even the kids in the very back can see his gums, canines sharp and pupils slitted— “I can have you unmade,” he trills softly, and everyone sits there in spellbound horror before Izuku pulls himself out of the act and looks about, eyes wide open and innocent. 


“So? How was that?” 


It’s silent. 


“Ah. That’s how you took down a yakuza gang.” Kaminari says, leaning back in his seat. 


Silently, as one, Class 1-A thanks their lucky stars Midoriya Izuku had not chosen a path of villainy.