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Theories, Notebooks, and Sleep Deprivation

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Izuku jolted up from yet another nightmare. Once his heartbeat and breathing steadied, he groaned in frustration. In the past week, he’d had four nightmares, two of them in the same night. He was getting really sick of them, and could start to feel their effect on him during the day.


He picked up his phone, begging it to be not as early as it probably was. Blinking at the white, blinding light, he was able to make out 2:17. He dropped his arm over his face and huffed, feeling like crying. 


I wonder if Shouto’s awake. They had made a pact a while ago that if one of them had nightmares, they would go to the other. Izuku had been kinda blowing past that the last few days, but he hadn’t wanted to wake the other boy up. Just as he was about to text him, his phone buzzed. He swiped the screen and saw it was a text from Shouto.


Today at 2:21 am

Shouto: Hey. I can’t sleep. If you’re awake can you meet me in the kitchen? I’m making tea.


Me: I was just about to text you. Be there in 5


Izuku slid out of bed and grabbed his blanket on his way out. He yawned deeply, cracking his jaw in a way that made him rub it. A single light was on in the kitchen and he saw Shouto staring at the electric kettle heating up. Not in a traumatized way, but in an I’m so dang tired and I’ll stare blankly at any random object like it challenged me to a staring contest sort of way. He glanced up when he heard Izuku.


“Hey. What kind d’you want?”




Shouto nodded, then riffled through a cabinet for a tea bag. Izuku draped his All Might themed blanket over his shoulders to free up his hands and snatched a couple mugs. The kettle whistled, and though Izuku was closer to it, he let Shouto pour the steaming water into the cups. The two took their respective mugs—one with a blue, yellow and red pattern, and a white one with red kittens—and headed to the common room without saying a word.


They flopped on a couch, then Izuku wrapped the blanket around them. He sipped a tiny bit and deemed it too hot for now. Shouto had no such qualms—having resistance to both cold and hot—and took a large gulp. He blinked, long, slow, and cat-like, at his tea. “Nightmares again.”


It was a statement as well as a question. Izuku sighed. “Yeah, for the past few nights.”


Shouto glanced at him, mild irritation on his features. “Izuku,” he started.


“I know, I know. I didn’t want to bother you. And I was able to fall asleep last after a little bit.” He tried his tea again, this time it was at perfect temperature. “I don’t think I’ll be able to tonight though.”


Last night’s nightmare hadn’t been too bad, more strange than anything— something about getting t-posed by the League of Villains—and it was like his subconscious had gotten too weirded out and woke him up. 


Tonight, though, he had dreamt of fighting Shigaraki. Only, this time, he couldn’t move a muscle as everyone in front of him was disintegrated. The first time he’d had that one, he'd been gripped by a bad anxiety attack and needed to call Shouto to his room. This must’ve been about the sixth time he’d had it, and it still made him shaky when he woke up. 


Shouto nodded and took another sip. “Same.”




“What should we do until then?”


“We can talk.”


More silence.


“Izuku, that’s when you start talking about the latest thing you’ve been working on or newest quirk you’ve dissected.”


A beat of more silence.


“I’ve got nothing. You talk.”


“Alright then. I have a new theory—”


“Shouto-oo,” Izuku hung his head backwards over the couch, “I love you, really, but the last time you had a theory, you thought Shigaraki was my brother.”


“It makes sense, though. He called you ‘brother’ during your fight, you both wear red high tops, he inherited All for One and you have One for All—”


“I already explained that that was All for One talking to the First holder of One for All, shoes have nothing to do with being related, and I’m pretty sure that if literally anybody had All for One, you’d think we were related.” Izuku tipped back his tea.


Shouto tapped his mug. “Well, I was considering that All for One was your father until I actually met Hisashi-san.” Izuku’s eyes blew wide as he inhaled deeply, causing half of his tea to come out his nose. Shouto clapped his back as he choked and wheezed.


“What the actual hell?!” Izuku managed once his coughing spasm was mostly over. 


Shouto shrugged. “It made sense.” 


Izuku shook his head as Shouto continued. “Anyway I think you’ll be interested in this one.”


“If it’s that I’m related to Nighteye or something—”


“It’s about how society’s view on heroics effects quirk stigma and how it’s linked to the origins of quirks.”


“. . . I’m listening.”


By the time Shouto finished, Izuku’s eyes were lit up with excitement. He tapped his cup feverishly. “That’s actually pretty solid. You’ve got some holes and your knowledge about some things is a bit sketchy, but I can help you with it.” His eyes widened and he slammed his hand on the couch. 


“Ooh! I have over a dozen notebooks with analyses of heroes’ and villains’ quirks! I think I have another notebook about quirks just in general! Lemme go grab them and I’ll meet you in your room. You’ve still got that whiteboard that Yaomomo made you, right?”


Izuku leapt up and took off for his room as soon as he got confirmation. Running lightly up the stairs and through the halls in socked feet was kinda fun to be honest. When he was little and his parents took him on road trips, they would sometimes book a hotel room. He remembered running in the halls barefoot, silent as possible, pretending to be someone from Naruto. For some reason running in a hotel always made him feel super fast and the dorms at night were giving him the same vibes. He absolutely did not Naruto run to his room because of this.


Carrying thirteen or fourteen notebooks to Shouto’s room was a bit tricky (the books kept sliding from his arms and falling on the floor). His partner (?) had already pulled the wheeled whiteboard to the middle of his room from...wherever it’d been before. 


They worked until 5:38 am when they both fell asleep. Unfortunately, Izuku’s alarm went off at 6 am so he could do his morning run and workout before school. And thus began his sleep deprivation. 






When Aizawa woke up, he checked the security films of the dorms from last night sped up, as he always did in the morning before he crawled to class. Partially for safety precautions—it was like his class was villain catnip or something—but also to make sure his class wasn’t weird teenager crap at four in the morning. Most of them had gone to their rooms around 10 pm, some stayed up a little longer. Shinsou showed up a few times around 1 am—unsurprising, he had some bad insomnia.


He slowed it down when Todoroki left his room a little after 2 in the morning and Midoriya came down a few minutes later. He didn’t usually see these two up. They drank tea in the common room and talked (the cameras didn’t have microphones, so he couldn’t hear the conversation). Midoriya seemed to get excited and ran to his room (why did the Problem Child Naruto run most of the way?) and came out with several notebooks, racing to Todoroki’s room.


He sped through a few hours to see Problem Child leave with his All Might blanket over him like a color blind ghost, somehow not bumping into anything on his way back to his room. 


Well then. . . he thought. That was strange.






Both Izuku and Shouto had trouble focusing in class the next morning. More Shouto than Izuku, since Izuku was much more used to pulling all nighters. After finishing their homework, they worked tirelessly (more or less) on their theory. Already the whiteboard was filled with cramped writing that had been erased and rewritten a couple of times and some photos. 


On Tuesday night, Izuku had to grab another notebook to write everything down at around 2 am. Shouto’s usually immaculately clean desk had gained once-filled-with-tea cups, empty to-go coffee cups, and granola bar wrappers cluttered on it.


At about 5, Shouto fell asleep leaning against the whiteboard. Izuku didn’t notice and continued babbling away until he fell asleep mid-sentence. Overnight, Shouto slowly slid down the whiteboard and then curled up on the floor. They both slept through their alarms and Iida woke them up twenty minutes before school started, initiating a mad scramble to get ready. They were both able to stay awake during class, through some miracle. 


They made it until hero training, when All Might and Aizawa were explaining something. That’s when Izuku laid his head on Shouto’s left shoulder and it was so warm and nice and they weren’t doing anything yet, and he promptly fell asleep. Shouto rested his head on Izuku’s hair, which was fluffy, almost like a pillow, and also promptly fell asleep. 


No one noticed until Aizawa called on Izuku for a question. “Midoriya?” 


No response. 


“I. . . think he and Todoroki are asleep,” Hagakure said uncertainly. A faint snore rose from one of them.


“How are they doing that?” Kaminari whispered.


“OI!” Bakugou yelled and grabbed Izuku’s shoulder. “WAKE UP, DEKU!”


In a split second, Izuku charged 5% of One for All and slammed his elbow into Bakugou’s stomach before he was even fully conscious. Bakugou’s eyes bugged as the wind was knocked out of him, and he wheezed to get his breath back. 


“Ah!” Izuku cried out, waking Shouto, who just blinked and rubbed his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Kacchan! I didn’t mean to do that!” Bakugou muttered something under his breath. “What? I didn’t hear you.”


Bakugou glared at Izuku, making him leap up and take a step back. “I said I’m gonna kill you!” Good thing that Izuku was good at running, even in his sleep deprived state, because Bakugou proceeded to chase after him, screaming, “GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE SHIT!”






It must have been 1 in the morning when Midoriya ran up to Hitoshi in the kitchen—where he’d been scrolling through Tumblr and drinking some tea—looking frantic. “I need your help with something!” He said, skidding a few meters in his socked feet.


That immediately put Hitoshi on edge because Midoriya almost never asked for help, so it must be serious. He nodded and Midoriya grabbed his wrist and practically dragged him along. 


“I don’t have my capture weapon, it’s in my room, but I can go—” he started.


“Huh? No, you don’t need that,” Midoriya said hurriedly. Now Hitoshi was just confused.


“Then what—”


“Just a sec, just a sec.”


Midoriya pulled him into Todoroki’s room. Todoroki turned away from a giant whiteboard (why did he have that?) that he’d been contemplating. 


“Okay, Shouto has given me an existential crisis over whether I’m broccoli or a strawberry! And I need your help deciding which one!” Todoroki held up two photos. One looked like a zoomed-in screenshot of Midoriya, hiding his bright red face with his arms, from the sports festival. The other was an equally bad picture with his friend’s hair poofy and frizzy and it honest to god made him look like a piece of broccoli. 


Hitoshi took a good look at the two boys and noticed the bags under their eyes. He glanced around the room, seeing notebooks, coffee cups, markers, and random photos strewn around the room. The whiteboard behind Todoroki was filled with scribbles and writing that looked like it was made by a madman.


“Broccoli, definitely. Now, what—and I can’t stress this enough—the hell are you two doing?”


“We,” Todoroki said in a voice that sounded almost proud, “are close to figuring out a theory.”


“Well, several theories that are all related to each other!” Midoriya bounded over to the whiteboard, seeming to have forgotten about his earlier distress. “Like the origin and evolution of quirks, how that affected the heroic society we live in today, and how society’s view on heroics affects quirk stigma.” He looked ready to pull out a lecture and present everything, but Hitoshi was a little more concerned about his friends’ mental and physical state than their theory, which would probably be interesting if Midoriya and Todoroki didn’t look like they were running solely off of caffeine and one shared brain cell.


“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool. Um, when was the last time you guys have slept through the night?” He regretted asking once they started counting on their fingers , and then Midoriya started on the other hand


“Uh,” Midoriya said, “let’s see, we started this on Sunday night—”


“It’s Thursday.”


“Technically, it’s Friday. And I’ve, uh, been having nightmares, so a few nights before were no bueno.”


Hitoshi dragged his hands down his face. “Okay. How much sleep have you gotten since Sunday?” They both counted again; it took a while.


“Let’s see,” Todoroki muttered. “About three and a half on Sunday, none on Monday, about two and a half on Tuesday, less than two on Wednesday, so, eightish?”


Hitoshi put his head in his hands and made a closed-mouth scream. “SLEEP, CHILDREN.”


“That’s a little hypocritical coming from you,” Todoroki responded.


“Maybe. But that’s not the point! It’s not healthy to have that little sleep.”


Midoriya made a psh sound and waved his hand. “I’ve done training during an internship, pulled an all-nighter to train more, then fought a villain the next night. And do you have any idea how many all-nighters I’ve pulled for studying? I can deal with it.”


Todoroki frowned a little. “Wait, when was the first thing?”


“In Hosu. Against Stain.”




“Todoroki,” Hitoshi begged, “Make your boyfriend go to bed.”


“Not my boyfriend,” they said at the same time.


“Huh?” Hitoshi looked between them, confused. “Didn’t you guys say yes when Mina asked you two if you were dating?”


“I’m pretty sure I said ‘Whatever floats your boat’.” Midoriya said.


“I said ‘Not really, but sure’,” Todoroki added.


Hitoshi had a brief flashback of Mina rushing into the common room, yelling that the two were dating, making at least half the class whoop ‘FINALLY’. “Yeah, that is not what she told us.” 


“If you’re curious,” Midoriya said, stacking loose papers together, “we’re not really dating, but we are in some sort of relationship. Like, not totally platonic, not totally romantic.”


“Oh,” Hitoshi said, “so, a queerplatonic relationship?”


They both visibly brightened at his words. “Someone actually knows what that is,” Todoroki said. “That's a first for me.”


“Moving on,” Hitoshi said, “you two need to sleep.”


“Mhmm.” Midoriya waved at him dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll just finish this one thing real quick and then we’ll go to bed.”


Hitoshi squinted at him. “You’re sure.”


Todoroki rolled his eyes along with the rest of his head; it was very dramatic. “ Yes .”


Hitoshi hummed, still not convinced, but left them alone nonetheless. Hoping they would get some rest, he went to bed himself.






They did not get any rest. Izuku felt like a zombie. Shouto looked like he was in the same boat; the bags under his eyes were even worse than his. Shinsou was not impressed when he saw them stumble into the homeroom that morning.


“What did I say?” he half asked, half pleaded, dragging a hand down his face.


“Well, one thing led to another and we kinda forgot, so. . .” It was a pretty pathetic excuse and they all knew it. 


Izuku took a swig of his thermos, shuddering as the liquid made its way down his throat, then passed it to Shouto. He took a gulp, gagged, and pulled the most disgusted face Izuku had ever seen on the boy. 


God , that is disgusting . What is it?” 


“Six espressos, two five-hour energy shots, and about a quarter cup of sugar.”


Shouto griminced, then drank more. Shinsou gave them both a look of exasperation mixed with horror. “That can not be good for you.”


“Oh, it’s not,” Izuku said breezily, ignoring the little black-haired girl/demon thing in the corner of the room. “But it’s the only thing keeping me awake and sane.” The girl hissed a laugh and made a face at him. He frowned. “Buzz off,” he said to her. It probably looked like he was talking to thin air. “I don’t need hallucinations right now.”


Shinsou’s expression deepened into worry. Izuku shrugged, correcting his earlier statement, “Sane-ish.”


Shouto’s were tracking something nonexistent. “Oh, so you can see the green sheep too?” Shinsou’s expression had now crossed into Jesus Christ, my friends have gone insane, someone help


“Maybe you guys should ask for a day off.” The two vehemently shook their heads. 


“Nah, we can make it through the day,” Izuku said to Shinsou, then turned to Shouto. “I don’t see a green sheep, but I do see a borderline demonic-looking little girl.” The girl hissed again. Shinsou banged his head on his desk. 


“Everyone to your seats,” Aiwaza told them. And class began. 


It was impossible to pay attention, and, at one point, Izuku almost nodded off when Aiwaza called his name, and he jolted, yelling “I’M ALIVE!” His teacher gave him an odd look, then repeated the question, which his sleep-deprived brain couldn’t comprehend. He sighed. It was going to be a long day.






“ALRIGHT GUYS,” Izuku shouted. The whole class jumped and turned to see him and Shouto wheeling in a whiteboard from the elevator. Several notebooks were tucked under their arms, making the task even harder. Everyone was speechless as they made their way into the common room. 


“WE HAVE SOMETHING TO SHOW YA,” Shouto shouted with equal fervor. Their classmates stared at them, completely taken aback by the state they were in. Fair, considering they must look a bit crazy with their rumpled clothes, purple bags under bloodshot eyes, and uncharacteristic screaming. Izuku was way past caring though.


“Are you two okay?” Urakara asked. 


“Yep,” Izuku and Shouto said at the same time that Shinsou said, “NO.”


Shinsou gave them the stink eye and jabbed a finger at Izuku. “This morning you said you were hallucinating a demon-girl and a green sheep!”


“No, I saw the sheep,” Shouto corrected. “Besides, that could’ve been the coffee/energy shot/sugar drink.”


Kirishima laughed nervously. “Uh, how do you feel after that?”


“Like I could fight God. And win. Or maybe puke.”


“Same,” Izuku said. “I’m legit vibrating. Like, I go brrrrrrrr . ANYWHO!” Everyone jumped again at the sudden shout. “We have uncovered a conspiracy! We have neglected sleep, homework, and non-caffeinated drinks for the past several days for this! Feel free to ask questions.”


Mina raised her hand. Izuku pointed at her. “Yes?”


“When was the last time you slept? Or drank water?”


“We will no longer be taking questions.”


Shouto flipped the white board over to show everything they’d written on it—including a timeline and photos. Izuku threw his arms out in a just look at it! sort of way. 


“‘How the Heroic Society Affects the Stigma of Quirks’,” Shouto presented.


“Why is this important?” asked Bakugou grouchily.


“You know what? You can just shut it.” Izuku mimed zipping his mouth, Shouto coping him. “Zip. It.” Bakugou’s eyes widened at Izuku’s sass, and so did several of their classmates. 


“SO! We start at the beginning of quirks.” Izuku slapped his hand to one side of the whiteboard (neither he nor Shouto noticed that it had been misspelled as ‘beniging’, but no one mentioned it). “Where did quirks come from?”


“Hell if anyone knows,” Shinsou said in a tired voice. He looked resigned to fate.


“Ah,” Shouto said, his eyes gleaming in a slightly unnerving way. “But we do have some ideas. First: mutations caused by some sort of chemical, radioactive substances or such. We know that exposure to those things can cause mutations and this is therefore a popular theory.”


“However,” Izuku jumped in, eyes also gleaming, “no major chemical spill or anything similar happened around the time quirks started appearing. And any mutations wouldn’t have such an effect on the world as it has today. Not to mention that adults would’ve been affected and people developed them as children.” He turned more serious and raised his hand to his mouth. “Unless of course it was similar to what happened in a book I read somewhere, where the government placed a pathogen in the water system, meant to protect people from chemical warfare, but which ended up killing most of the next generation and left the rest with supernatural powers—”


He continued to mutter until Shouto bapped him—harder than necessary—on the back of his head, effectively cutting him off. 


“Oi,” he said, “stay on target.”


Izuku whacked him back, then Shouto whacked him and they dissolved into slapping at each other while trying to avoid getting hit in the face. “Dear god,” Iida said, “they’re like a pair of overtired children.”


“They are a pair of overtired children,” Tsuyu said, observing how Shouto was now ducking away from Izuku furiously poking at him with his fingers. “Do you want to finish or should we make you two go to bed?”


They immediately sprung apart. “Right, theory number two,” Izuku went on as if nothing happened. “A virus—whether man made or not. A virus could easily infect nearly the whole world—like with the coronavirus pandemic in the early twenty-first century. The thing is, if it was a virus, then there would be more quirkless people.”


“Huh? Why?” Ojiro called out.


Izuku bounced on his feet. “Great question! If it was a worldwide virus that affected everyone, people with genes that are resistant to it would have children whose genes are resistant to it and overtake the population who aren’t resistant. Just like with bugs and pesticide.”


“Did he just compare people with bugs?” he heard someone mutter.


“Yes, I did. Not sorry. Also, a virus—unless they really screwed up making it—wouldn’t give people powers. It would just make them sick.”


“Or kill them,” Shouto added. “So that leaves us with experiments—the most likely one, but somehow the one that is less talked about.”


“I feel like I should be taking notes,” Kirishima whispered.


“Don’t worry,” Jirou whispered back, “I’ve been recording since Midoriya told Blasty to zip it.”


“You caught the whole slapping thing too?”




“Experiments would change a person’s genes, and we all know that’s how quirks are passed down,” Shouto said. “The first documented case of quirks was not necessarily the first appearance of quirks. Especially since it was a glowing baby. People in the generation before could’ve been experimented on; even if they themselves didn’t have quirks, their genes would’ve been altered enough to affect their children.”


“This would also fill in some gaps the other theories have,” Izuku interjected. “Evolution takes several generations. Even if it happened naturally, to get where we are today would have taken probably thousands of years from the beginning of quirks.”


“How do they make this much sense?” Kaminari wondered aloud.


“Then, of course,” Shouto pointed at a scribble that could either be a three-armed creature and a wand with sparks or a mutant flower puking, “it could always be aliens or magic.”


“I take it back,” Kaminari said. The thing that shocked them the most was that Izuku nodded like it was a perfectly realistic idea.


“Moving on.” Izuku clapped his hands. “The dawn of heroics.”


“In the beginning,” Shouto picked up the subject, “the Yakuza took over society and added more chaos to an already chaotic time. The police system was practically decimated and weren’t really able to help. After about a decade or so, vigilantes started popping up.”


“Many are unknown, except for a couple famous ones that helped build the official heroic system.”


“The system is only about a hundred years old,” Shouto continued, taking over. “Regulations and laws have been changed constantly, but have been pretty lenient on the most powerful of heroes.” 


“And because of that, heroes like this— “ Izuku slammed his hand next to a printed picture taped to the whiteboard, “—get away with all sorts of crap.”


“That. . . is a picture of a dumpster fire,” Hagakure said.


Izuku squinted at it. “Shoot. That’s an inside joke and I guess I clicked the wrong picture. It’s supposed to be Endeavor.”


“You mean ENDEAWHORE!” Bakugou shouted.


Shouto stuck his finger at Bakugou. “YES.”


“THANK YOU FOR INTERRUPTING,” Izuku shouted and finger-gunned at Bakugou (no one was sure if he was being serious or sarcastic).


“The hero system is of course necessary, and there are good people in it,” Shouto said, “but it’s flawed. People have become too focused on the flashy, cool aspects of heroics. We need to remember what heroics truly is: saving and protecting people.”


Iida launched his arm into the air, nearly taking out Uraraka next to him. “Are you saying Stain was right? That the flashy, ‘fake’ heroes should be purged?” he challenged, less as an argument, more to see what their thoughts were. 


Izuku made a so-so gesture. “Obviously Stain went about it in the wrong way. Killing people is not right and should only be used in the most extreme of circumstances. Not to make a point. But, his base idea that people solely in it for the money and fame shouldn’t be heroes has merit. Besides,” his face turned a little cold, “we saw how many people dropped out of heroics when it started getting tough a few months ago.


“Now, again, we’re not saying that the hero system is bad, just that there are things that need to be fixed. For example: it influences quirk stigma. ‘Heroic’, ‘villainous’, and ‘useless’ quirks are a product of this.”


Shinsou leaned forward, his interest finally captured. “Go on.”


Izuku grinned and rubbed his hands ( oh dear, thought most of the class). “ Obviously cool, strong, flashy quirks are the best and make a hero. It’s unthinkable that someone with, say, a brainwashing quirk or even someone without a quirk, could become a hero!” His tone made it very obvious that wasn’t what he actually thought. 


“Now, of course many of you have such quirks, which isn’t a bad thing. It’s just that society as a whole has decided that only people with ‘good’ quirks can be heroes.” He clapped his hands. “And that is something that needs to be changed.”


Shouto nodded. “Speaking of quirks, we also have the problem of Quirk Singularity.”


Jirou raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a crackpot theory?”


“Bold of you to assume it’s more crackpot than anything I can come up with.”


“I didn’t say that.”


“What is it?” Uraraka asked.


“Quirk Singularity is the theory that quirks are going to evolve faster than our bodies,” Shouto said.


“Meaning that peoples’ quirks are going to become too powerful for them to control, and they could hurt themselves by just using their quirk,” Izuku added. “The theory was brought up when society was settling, but nobody wanted to face the idea that our own quirks were going to destroy us, so the theory was dismissed.”


“However,” Shouto picked up, “signs of Quirk Singularity have already started to show up in fourth and fifth—which is us—generations.”


“Got any examples?” Sero asked, munching on popcorn (no one knew where it came from). 


Slowly, Shouto spun on his heel and pointed at Izuku with both his index fingers. “Prime example right here.”


“Heh, heh,” Izuku laughed nervously at everyone’s surprised Pikachu faces. “He’s not wrong. Not only is my quirk completely different from my parents’, it’s also really hard on my body.”


“Would you like to share what else you told me?” Shouto said, less of a question and more of an order. 


Izuku rolled his eyes. “Fiiiiine. It also didn’t show up until I had built enough body mass and muscle to handle it.”


“Um,” Uraraka said hesitantly, as if she was afraid of the answer she was about to receive. “You broke both legs and an arm during the entrance exam.”


Izuku smiled brightly and finger-gunned her. “Yes, I did! If I got my quirk before I started working out, all my limbs would have blown off my body and I would have died in agonizing, limbless, bloody pain! I was a skinny little bean back in middle school- I could’ve snapped in half, too.”


Completely ignoring his classmates’ horrified faces, he switched topics. “Back on the Quirk Singularity thing, we have a solution.”


Izuku and Shouto both pulled out sunglasses and put them on. “Be gay, be ace, don’t have kids,” they said together, bowed and then shot up straight. 


“On that note,” Izuku said, “we are going to bed because we have had a total of 7 hours and 45ish minutes of sleep in the last five or six days. We will proceed to sleep through tomorrow, so do not bother us unless we are in danger of dying.”


“Also,” Shouto said, “don’t erase this or we will rain hellfire on you.” 


They threw up peace signs and left. No one moved for a minute, still trying to process what happened in the last ten minutes. Then they all unanimously got up and went to Izuku’s room, and, when they didn’t find them, went to Shouto’s. 


They found the two snoring away, tangled in each other’s limbs, sunglasses askew on their faces. Izuku still had his shoes on and neither had gotten underneath the blankets. At least neither had their ties on—they probably would’ve strangled each other by accident. 


Mina cooed and took about a billion pictures of the two before Shinsou forced her and the rest of his classmates out and closed the door. 






True to their word, Shouto and Izuku joined reality (read: woke up) on Sunday, having slept through the entirety of Saturday. 


“Well, almost the entirety of yesterday,” Izuku explained through a yawn to Uraraka. “I got up once to go to the bathroom, took off my shoes, then went straight back to sleep.”


“Same,” Shouto said. 


“So, um,” Uraraka glanced toward the whiteboard and the notebooks scattered around it. No one had the courage to move them—they didn’t want to incur the wrath of their sleep-deprived, over-caffeinated (possibly-cracked) friends. Even if they seemed more put together now, they hadn’t wanted to risk it. 


They did, however, read the whole of the whiteboard and found several concerning things—many of which weren’t related to what they’d talked about. Including a rather in depth and well-thought out plan to theoretically commit murder and get away with it. 


“Do you regret staying up all those nights?” Shinsou asked, voicing what Uraraka was about to say. 


They gave him tired grins. “Definitely not. Just wait until we come with another theory to explore.”


Shinsou screeched.