The school bell rang and that was the end of it all. Graduation was tomorrow. Not for him, anyway, with two more weeks of school left before he could head off to university and get his teaching license. Tomorrow was Kacchan's graduation day. He wouldn't miss it for the world.

The next few hours came and went like a breeze, and Izuku was stepping onto the train platform with a bag holding a cardboard box of previously-piping hot takoyaki and a container of seaweed soup, his school bag slung over his shoulder. No one joined him down the sidewalk, so he walked home with his own company in silence.

The kids at school never really talked to him anymore. 'The people at school' was more accurate, really, now that they were all in their third year and graduation was just around the corner. After the whole debacle–his vigilante stunt–in his first year, Izuku gave up on making friends. No one approached him to change that, anyway. Uraraka was the first. And the last.

He could text her–maybe just a 'hru?' or an 'I hope all is well', but what difference would it make? She hadn't so much as called since he left Yuuei. Maybe it was something about the nearly-visible, mammoth gap between him and the hero course students that left him behind that caused such a rift in communication to form. Maybe it was just because of the Yuuei students' prudent reputation. It made him wonder if things were that way when he was a student there–if he was just too blind to unkindness to see it in the first place–if he was just too stuck in his own world.

It was all catching up to him now, that secludedness Yuuei all but imposed upon its students. All of his friends were graduating tomorrow–the revered class 3-A. At least his open spot could help Shinsou make his way in the world of heroics just like he always dreamed he could. He deserved it.

One year isn't a lot of time to get to know people, even when faced time and time again with scary and unfortunate situations. One might think the trauma bonds would help with that, but apparently Hound Dog's counseling was good for something.

Izuku hadn't been to any type of counseling session since his time at Yuuei. It wasn't required at any general education school he attended or would attend in the future, so he never kept up with it.

Kacchan was a different story altogether. Growing up with one another helped the boys create a bond strong and unstoppable. They still got drinks on Tuesdays, worked on homework together every other day they could spare the time to. Katsuki was the only friend he had left. He didn't need any other friends anyway, and was happy with the direction his life was taking. He'd always wanted to inspire people–to be their hero. Aside from professional heroes, teachers were some of the most inspiring people out there. He didn't really have much to complain about.

By the time Izuku's thoughts slowed down to a walking pace, he'd made it back to the apartment. He unlocked the door without much trouble and shrugged off his bag and his shoes and his jacket as soon as he stepped through the threshold. A brisk Spring gale followed him in, sending a chill down the back of his neck and against his battered arms. They had certainly seen better days.

"I'm home," he called into the apartment, not expecting much of a response. Inko was still working a late shift at the hospital–amongst all the trouble and change he encountered over the past two years, she had been a pillar of reliability and really the only thing that had stayed the same at all.

Izuku slipped on his favorite pair of slippers and pattered over to the kitchen. He temporarily abandoned his bag of takeout on the dining table to wash up at the kitchen sink. The soap foamed and bubbled in his hands, and he took a moment to let the popping sensation snake about his scars and bent fingers. It was relaxing. He rinsed off the suds.

The dish rack beside the sink was filled with ceramic plates and mugs and bowls, and the little side container held a decent amount of shining cutlery. He picked up each item one at a time, toweling off the half-dry ones, and set them all in their rightful places.

By the time he was done, his stomach was gurgling and the scar on his face was itching something fierce. Even after all the time that had passed since his time at Yuuei, his scars and aches remained. They weren't so bothersome or painful as they were back when Recovery Girl was obligated to look after him, but they itched and ached every once and a while. It was a weird reminiscence he only bothered to mull over when his to-do list was empty–practically never.

Things were better that way.

The takoyaki was delicious. The soup was hotter than his hands were–hotter than the scar on his face was. After a few years of practicing trimming and hair-styling, his head felt a lot less uneven than it did right after the war. Because no matter what anyone said, they fought a war in their first year of high school, and it was hell.

His phone dinged–a rare occasion nowadays. It was a text from Yagi. He set his phone back on the table and slurped down more broth. It warmed him comfortably.

After he left Yuuei–scratch that–after All Might's retirement the three of them had been closer than ever–Yagi, Kacchan, and him. After Katsuki got over all the self-depreciating bull, he could healthily look after their friendship and mentorship. Izuku couldn't have been more grateful–with Yagi's full-time teaching position, Katsuki's full-time hero course studies, and his own academics, it was difficult even for Izuku himself to keep in contact with his mentor; not that he didn't appreciate the man for all that he'd done for him and for all that he'd sacrificed for the sake of Izuku's own success, but one fact did still remain.

The whole purpose of the One for All quirk was to defeat the current holder of All for One and restore peace and balance to the world as it stands. As it is said: "Where there is darkness there must also be light." When Shigaraki died, taking All for One with him, there was no more need for the vengeful quirk or the legacy of One for All or the vestiges.

The embers faded.

The only reason Izuku made it as far as he did in Yuuei was because All Might destined him to become the greatest revenger of all time. Without One for All, there was no probable nor reasonable way he could have ever gotten into Yuuei's hero course with or without a rule deeming quirkless individuals fit to take the entrance exam.

It was a tough pill to swallow, but it was true from the very beginning. Izuku choked it down when he first met Shigaraki because somewhere deep in his soul the truth was plain as day that he could never be a proper pro hero even if he dedicated his life to the cause–not one that got recognized enough to save people anyway.

With that depressing thought, Izuku sucked down the last of his broth and stood. He marched his containers to the sink to rinse them and then deposited them in their rightful places.

What now? Oh, right. He had homework to do.

– – –

What do people wear to graduation ceremonies, anyway?

Izuku set down his T-shirt boldly labeled Tuxedo and shook his head. Maybe he shouldn't have bought this shirt–discounted price or not. There was no way he could wear it to his best friend's graduation, let alone out in public.

He nudged it to the side and prayed he'd find a flannel or light jacket that would cover the wording when buttoned. That'd be the most hilarious thing since Mr. Smiley. Kacchan would hate it. It would be awesome.

Izuku pulled a dark blue flannel from his closet. It was a bit big on him–the sleeves were loose enough to let his arms quake and tremble in peace and the bottom just barely touched the openings of the pockets in his sweatpants. It was perfectly appropriate for a Yuuei graduation ceremony.

He slipped on the Tuxedo shirt and buttoned the navy flannel over top. Then he put on a pair of dress pants about one-and-a-half shades lighter than the flannel. Inko had bought them for him for Gran's birthday that same year. It had been funeral themed and no one actually told him it was Gran Torino's birthday. Izuku had never been happier to get ketchup on his shirt.

Izuku tucked away a few assorted articles of clothing he had been sifting through and then slid his closet shut.

When he left Yuuei, he had moved back into his childhood apartment with little fanfare. Mom was working overtime–she'd become a workaholic during his stint at Yuuei, needing something productive and familiar to do lest she worry herself to death. He'd brought with him a box of assorted All Might merchandise, a box with the casual clothes he'd collected throughout the school year, and two zip-up bags of toiletries and kitchen implements he'd acquired or borrowed from home.

It felt like coming home from a long-winded vacation rather than moving back into his former home. Coincidentally, soon after he left, the rest of the Heights Alliance Dormitories were evacuated to give the students some more time with their families after a too-eventful first year.

Kacchan visited from time to time, when the students earned a bit more freedom from campus. They still called pretty often–texting even more so. They were good now. If Izuku could go back in time, he'd tell himself not to do one thing differently. Everything was as it should be now.

Sure, he still got lonely sometimes. Who wouldn't, with one true friend and a few former-best-friends-now-almost-acquaintances? It was almost frightening to spend so little time with people that he used to live with–that he used to lean upon and build his life around; but he could handle it.

After... Well, after everything, there wasn't much he couldn't deal with.

The busride to Yuuei passed in the blink of an eye.

Standing at the gates, he was transported back to his first day at Yuuei. He half-expected Eraserhead to show up somehow as he walked down the halls to tell him 'he was going to be late' or to 'hurry up already.' Obviously that didn't happen. It kind of made him feel down.

The gymnasium was packed by the time Izuku got there. He cursed under his breath–he hadn't really thought about getting to the ceremony early to get a good seat–if there was such a thing, at a momentous school event–and now he was reaping the consequences.

"Oh, Midoriya! Come sit with us," a welcome-sounding voice called to him from the right side of the gymnasium.

He shuffled through an aisle separating two ginormous blocks of folding chairs occupied by people bustling this way and that, chatting up a storm, laughing and joking like the building they were in couldn't be decayed or warped or obliterated in a mere moment if the right villain managed to get in–this was a public event, after all–it wouldn't be too hard for them.

It turns out that it was Mandalay that called him over, a warm smile on her face, hair almost to her shoulders. She always did like to keep it cut shorter than Pixie-Bob–they both said their individual hair styles made them look 'younger' and 'less mature' than they really were. Izuku didn't have much to say about that.

"Oh, Mandalay!" he said once he reached her. Beside her sat Pixie-Bob followed by Kota, Ragdoll, and Tiger.

A line of chatting strangers sat on the other side of him, but when Izuku approached their row, he cleared his throat and politely asked them all to scoot one seat to the right; they did so without protest, much to Izuku's surprise, and Mandalay patted the seat next to her expectantly.

Izuku sat down hesitantly, a breath of air leaving him when Mandalay unexpectedly squeezed him tight.

"I've missed your ugly mug," she said cheerfully.

Izuku laughed awkwardly, making eye contact with Kota over his aunt's shoulder. The boy made a face halfway between a smile and a grimace and Izuku did his best to smile back against the pressure on his chest and back.

When Mandalay finally released him, he breathed in deeply and shook his head lightly.

"I missed you too," he said, albeit a bit shyly. Although he and the other members of the Wild Wild Pussycats hadn't gotten many opportunities to interact after he'd transferred schools, Kota occasionally wrote him letters to which he happily replied.

"And at least call me 'Sosaki'," she demanded. "Calling me 'Mandalay' outside of my patrol times makes me feel too old!"

Pixie-Bob leaned forward both to get Izuku's attention and to make sure he could see her from around Sosaki.

"Yeah," she agreed, "At least call me 'Tsuchikawa', Persian!"

Izuku laughed at the unexpected nickname.

"Why 'Persian'?" he asked.

Tsuchikawa smiled and said, gesturing towards her own hair, "They're really fluffy!"

Izuku rolled his eyes lightheartedly.

"I like it," Tiger said from further down the row, "It suits you! Call me 'Chatora'!"

"Thanks," Izuku replied, not all un-sarcastically.

Ragdoll gives him a thumbs-up and the brightest smile he's seen her procure since before the training camp incident two years ago.

"'Shiretoko' for me," she says. "Or 'Shire', if that's too long for ya!"

Izuku smiles.

A light thumping sound and a thunder-like echo ricochets around the gymnasium. All eyes turn towards the front of the room and are met with the sight of Principal Nezu behind a casual, oak wood podium. His whiskers occasionally frisk over the microphone.

"Good afternoon, esteemed guests," he begins. "It is my great honor to introduce you to the graduating class of 20XX!"

The crowd erupts with cheering and claps, and wow Izuku did not expect the ceremony to progress so quickly!

Class 1-A leads the students into their assigned seats on the very opposite side of the gym from Izuku, rows and rows from front to back full of hero hopefuls and future accountants and genius inventors and Yuuei students all ready to flip the page and begin the next chapter of their lives. It takes all of Izuku's willpower not to cry when Iida and Yaoyorozu march up the steps and onto the stage to give their graduation day speeches on behalf of the student body.

"I'm sorry we didn't get seats closer to the graduates," Sosaki whispers, leaning towards him with a hand cupping her voice towards him so as to not disturb the ceremony.

He smiles softly at her. It's a sweet thought, if not a bit mislead.

"It's okay."

He looks back to the stage and the speeches begin.

Iida remained their class representative, even after all this time. There was no doubt in Izuku's mind that he'd dutifully carry on the Ingenium family legacy. He would make his brother proud–prouder than he already was, that is. It was hard to miss the former pro hero crying heartily in the front row.

A funny thing, that was–Ingenium–the original–'s retirement. His quirk was in his arms, wasn't it? To be forced into a wheelchair... couldn't he still move his arms? His retirement was a true mystery to Izuku. Maybe Hawks would have some insight on the subject. If he was lucky, the HPSC president would leave a little 'read' mark next to any message he sent pertaining to his inquiry.

Iida's speech was long-winded and formal, thanking them all for celebrating this momentous occasion, saying there will be refreshments afterwards for those who have time to stay and mingle and such, thanking his classmates for being there for each other throughout all they'd all been through, and so on. It was almost mundane in that cherishable-Iida way.

Yaoyorozu's speech was just as much a "pleasantry statement" as Iida's was, but felt more lighthearted than his glorified proclamation of thanks.

And then, the entire class–more than five hundred students in total–stand when they are motioned to and walk across the stage to accept their handshakes and diplomas. Izuku's hands are trembling.

After each class completes receiving their diplomas, they individually go back to the stage to get a group picture with their homeroom teachers and student teachers when applicable. Katsuki grimaces the whole time and it's almost enough to make Izuku laugh out loud.

By the time all is said and done and Nezu returns to the stage to release the crowd to their formal hall stocked with tables and tables of snacky-foods and little plastic cups of various beverages, Izuku would much rather go home and work on his final project for his environmental science class. He has a lot of good-quality work to finish before his own graduation, and seeing all these people celebrate being done with their high school careers makes his insides feel all gushy and out-of-place.

Sosaki puts a hand on top of his and the trembling slows tremendously under the pressure. She stands when the other people around her do and he stands with her, not completely present for a moment before the world comes shaking back into a view of bright colors and sounds so loud and crisp he can taste them.

"Let's go take a seat in the hall and I'll grab you some food and water," she says, leading him down the aisle he walked up to join her before the ceremony.

He nods listlessly and trails behind her. Shire and Chatora trail behind them; Tsuchikawa holds Kota's hand and chats with him as they exit the gymnasium.

For a while, the five of them sit and chat–mingle, really–at a round table they have all to themselves tucked away somewhere decently far from the main festivities–far enough not to draw much attention and close enough to see a glimpse of Uraraka in a stunning, light pink dress walking and talking and laughing with Yaoyorozu and Asui.

Emerald eyes trail her part way across the room until they pass behind another group of mingling students and are completely out of sight. Izuku slumps downward in his chair.

"Aw, what's got you looking so down, Persian?" Tsuchikawa asks, tone annoyingly upturned, making the question she asks sound more like a taunt than anything.

"Nothing," Izuku says. "Just thinking about how much schoolwork I could be getting done right now if I'd stayed home instead of coming here."

"Cheer up! Didn't you come here to support your friends?" Shire asks.

Izuku slides further down in his chair and says, "Well, yeah, I guess–"

"That's that, then!"

He looks off to the side, defeated, and huffs.

The Pussycats and Kota and Izuku continue chatting (or sulking) in relative peace for quite some time. But this wouldn't be an event with 1-A unless something annoying, unexpected, or out-of-the-blue happened, so when Katsuki starts marching towards their group, Izuku does his best not to snort out a laugh.

"What, you think something's funny, Izuku?" the blond asks as soon as he gets to their table, snatching an empty seat from a table a few yards away and dragging it not very gently to a gap between Izuku and Mandalay.

Izuku shifts his seat to the side slightly to make more room for Katsuki and says, "Not really, but your face will tide me over until I see something worth laughing over."

Katsuki growls, "Hey! There's nothing funny about my face, Dummkopf!"

"Yeah, right; tell that to your mirror."

"What the heck did you say?!"

"Alright boys, let's settle down," Chatora says from across the table, cracking his knuckles. "We wouldn't want to disrupt such an important event–let alone make a scene worth whispering about, would we?"

Katsuki scoffs and looks to the side. Izuku shakes his head like he's listening to Skillet.

"No, sir," they say in unison anyway.

Tsuchikawa claps and her blonde hair bounces a little.

"Congratulations on your graduation, Dynamight!" she says all-too cheerfully. "Your class reps did a great job on their speeches, even if they were kinda downers."

Katsuki scoffs again and says, "Iida hasn't stopped barking about his speech for two weeks. I'm glad it's finally over."

Sosaki barks out a laugh and covers her mouth to avoid attention from other tables.

"You're sharp, kid! Handsome, too!"

"You're twice his age, Sosaki!" Izuku says in a hushed tone, leaned towards her, voice frantic.

"Aw, I'm just playing with him, Persian!" she says, slapping him on the shoulder light-heartedly.

He leans back and groans into his hands. It almost makes Katsuki chuckle.

Silence falls across the table for a while, just long enough to let it become somewhat awkward. Izuku turns towards Katsuki.

"Congrats on your graduation," he says genuinely.

Katsuki scowls.

"What, you think I couldn't do it? Idtiot."

Izuku flounders and says, "Kacchan, you know what I meant!"

"Of course I do," he replied with a smirk. "You're too easy to mess with, Deku."

Izuku groans.

"Aw, would you cut it out with that already?"

Katsuki hums, gaze flicking upward as if he's deep in thought. He keeps rolling his wrists and stretching his ligaments like they're sore.

"Let's see... Do I hear you still calling me 'Kacchan'? Yes, I do. So, no, I won't 'cut it out'."

"Fine!" Izuku says somewhat defiantly, "I'll stop calling you Kacchan then, how's that?"

"No you won't," Katsuki snarks immediately.

"No I won't," Izuku affirms glumly.

The Wild, Wild Pussycats all look at them in various stages of laughter and the attention causes Izuku to shrink into himself slightly. Katsuki shoves his shoulder light-heartedly. More people had been abusing his shoulder today than he was used to.

"I think I'd better get home," Izulu says, squinting into the setting sun that blinds him through a window on the other side of the room. "I've got a couple final projects to work on, and it seems like the festivities are over."

It appears true enough. The room around them is dramatically quieter than it had been directly following Nezu's closing statement at the ceremony, and all those who remained were catching up with old friends as he, Katsuki, and the Pussycats were doing.

"You don't have to go," a voice, somewhat rough, somewhat sullen, speaks from Chatora's side across the table.

Izuku looks over at Kota and his heart clenches at the mournful look on his face. His hands fumble to his pocket and he pulls out his phone. It's handed immediately to Sosaki.

"You can put your number in, if you want," he says shyly. "It might be easier to keep in contact with Kota and you guys over the phone rather than by mail while I'm in university."

"Sounds great, kid! Thanks a lot," she says, taking the phone with a grin.

Izuku looks back over to Kota and smiles at the now soft expression on his face, eyes no longer welled with the impending sadness that always comes with parting ways with someone you hold dear.

"See?" Izuku says somewhat redundantly. "I'll keep in touch, even if I move away."

Kota smiles.

"How the heck could you tell what he was thinking?" Katsuki asks somewhat brashly. "Maybe you had a secret 'kid-whisperer' quirk all along."

Izuku does laugh out loud at that one.

Him? Having a quirk? It's practically unthinkable, especially now, after everything.

"Yeah right."

Maybe he's just good with kids. Maybe he can put that thought to good use. Maybe he can be the best teacher he can be. Maybe he can't be a proper pro hero, but maybe he can inspire future generations to become just that.

Hopefully the embers of his dream to be a hero can ignite the sparks of heroism in his future students. The thought alone makes him giddy with excitement, raring to go and heartily looking forward to teaching young minds how to do good.

Hopefully that can be enough for him for now.