✧𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩𝔯𝔶✧

𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔞

2019 
"Do not confuse emotional for weak. I will slit your fucking throat with tears rolling down my cheeks." - Anonymus. 

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"So you're telling me that not only do you want me to pretend to be a college student in Keio University where let me remind you—only Arles and neutrals administrate due to discrimination against Merles, but also act like a fucking damsel in distress in the process, and hope they accept me into their organization and maybe tell me their mindblowing plan which is against all odds." Izuku forgets how to blink or breathe as he manages to stammer out with heavy breaths trying to maintain his cool in front of every work acquaintance he has ever known. 

"Young Midoriya, listen I know this isn't the ideal task for you but everyone else's schedule is already occupied to the brim," Toshinori says in a pleading tone softly motioning sorry with his hands. He is opting to deal with Izuku as carefully as possible so he doesn't refuse.

"You think my schedule is so empty that you can just toss me around wherever you wish?!" He won't agree, He can't. That's an absurd request, they know nobody will agree with the terms. 

"Deku-kun, we need to act quickly to protect our people at the base." Nemuri sits up, her dark blue hair flowing around, her off-shoulder red dress swirling just above her knees, "If we don't, more lives will be in danger. You have to act like a neutral, misleading them into thinking your sub-gender is neutral and when they think you are easy to manipulate and let you in their work, you will pick them off one by one. Your efforts to divert attention and create a bit of chaos, as well as appearing less skilled, could make a real difference." Her light blue eyes glistened with a look of uneasiness and a crucial opponent— hope.

"I can't go there again, Midnight. You know that," he muttered, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. "They've seen me before. They'll recognize me right away and the university would also fucking will .." His mind drifted back to that day—the day he was assigned to sabotage the Arles' investigation. The mission had been a success, but it had torn him apart, left him fractured, each piece of himself scattered like debris in the aftermath. That place was not made for him no matter how strong his combat is. They managed to figure his identity out 5 days before he even started his plan. 

"No." She clicked her tongue, letting the silence stretch between them. "The last time, they saw you was with blonde hair, Izuku, not green. Blue eyes, not the ones you were born with. You slipped through their grasp as a stowaway, kept to the shadows, and never showed your face. But this time... this time, you'll walk straight into their lair without a mask, without a false name. No more hiding. They don't know the real you, and that's your weapon now. You'll be right there, in plain sight—an invisible man tricking them into letting you in their organization."

Izuku's thoughts were all over the place, with different opinions painting everything. He felt like he had 20 different voices yelling at him at the same time, even though no one else could hear them. Every life choice he ever made was always risky. Each one of them. 

"Okay, that's all fun and games, but what if I get caught?" he snapped, his voice edged with frustration. "Last time, I barely made it out, but what if it's different this time? What if they've stepped up their game? I should be going in with backup, but no—you want me to waltz in there with nothing and play the part of a damsel in distress." He paused, eyes narrowing as he scoffs. "Do you think that's going to work?"

"If we're going to bring someone down, we can't afford to underestimate them," he continued, his voice unyielding. "We need to be ready, armed to the teeth, prepared to take them down in the worst way possible. Anything less, and we're just asking to fail."

A pause

Silence interrupted the conversation as everybody anticipated what the last bit of speech the green-haired male would give—Izuku looked over to the window, his gaze locking on an elderly lady—40-50 of age with dark purplish-gray hair swinging with her kid on a 2 people swing. He needs to protect so many people—so many lives that could step into danger and be auctioned off. If he has to do this, he will. He won't deny any task he is told to manage if it's a way to bring them down. He will do it for the ones he lost—he would do it for his mother.

"I'll go, but I won't be empty-handed."