Chapter Text
Somehow, it had never occurred to Toshinori that his master might have fans.
Of course he knew, in a vague, abstract kind of way, that they must’ve existed. In this day and age, it was pretty much impossible to do any kind of heroics without gaining at least some public traction, but Toshinori supposed he’d never given it much thought. Nana was Nana, and Nana was his teacher — his mother , if he ever had the guts to say as much — not some smoothed-out celebrity hero on TV.
Besides, while Toshinori thought she deserved more fans than all the other pros put together, she put deliberate effort into staying underground. As underground as a cape-wearing, super-strength wielding hero could be, anyhow.
Mystique was an image she liked to cultivate (her words, not his) and Nana always said that anonymity provided perks that the limelight simply wouldn’t make up for. The fewer people who knew about her, the fewer villains would target her family and her friends. She called it a no-brainer.
So it came as quite a shock when, on a lazy mid-December morning, someone called out to her with all the undisguised glee of a kid in a sweet shop.
The sound made Toshinori stumble. His too-big feet nearly tripped over themselves in his speed to right himself, and he hoped terribly that whoever had called out had been too distracted to notice. Beside him, Nana paused. For a brief moment, her expression widened in shock, eyebrows pinched in confusion and mouth slack. She recovered much faster than Toshinori — she usually did — and in a blink her face had brightened into the grin he was so used to seeing.
Towards them tumbled a girl. The first thing Toshinori noticed was her hair: long and green, pulled up in a style much like Nana’s. She was short (not that he could really be used as a benchmark, hello six foot by age sixteen ) and only a year or two younger than him at most — all round cheeks and gentle features and nervous fidgeting.
“Trajectory?”
Her eyes shone, green as her hair, and she stared at Nana like his master had hung the stars.
Toshinori was familiar with the sentiment.
Nana tilted her head, baffled but smiling. “That’s me! How can I help you, my girl? You okay?”
“Oh- yes-” admiration glowed bright on her face. “ Ohmygod , I’m sorry. I’m just— I’m a huge fan, Ms Trajectory. Would you— could I— get your autograph?”
Any worry eased from Nana’s face and she let out a laugh, resonant and warm. Toshinori felt his heart lift at the sound.
“Of course you can. Wow, never been asked that before.” Nana’s smile didn’t dim, but it did grow slightly bashful; that was an expression Toshinori rarely saw her make. “Got anything to sign, sweetie?”
The girl jumped a little. “Oh! Yes. Hang on.” She rooted around in her bag for a moment, before withdrawing a small card — a motivational quote print, in colourful, blocked lettering — and offering it to Nana shyly. “I— I don’t have a pen though—”
“Oh, er- I do.”
Toshi stepped forward, giving his biggest smile. He withdrew a pen from the pocket of his school jacket and handed it to Nana.
The girl looked at him brightly, cheeks pink but eyes all warm. His ears suddenly felt very hot.
“Carrying around your own stationary and everything these days, huh kiddo?” said Nana. “Look at you growing up.” He nearly pouted, but she winked teasingly. “What’s your name, my girl? It’s not everyday I get to meet a fan.”
The girl tucked a strand of her green, green hair behind an ear shyly. “Midoriya Inko.”
“Midoriya, hm? Pretty. Inko’s even prettier though.”
Midoriya’s brilliant eyes suddenly went misty. She blinked rapidly and reached up to hide her face in her hands. Nana laughed, scribbling onto the card with flourish.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Midoriya said, peaking teary eyes out from between her fingers. “This is so embarrassing. I just— I’m such an easy crier, sorry— ”
Nana’s voice was all amusement. She rested a hand on Midoriya’s head and beamed. “It’s no problem, sweetie. Though really it should be me crying. My first autograph! That’s a milestone.”
“Your first?” Toshi’s mouth moved before he could stop it. “No way.”
“Hey,” his master flicked one of his long bangs, “not all of us want to be Mr Bigshot, kid.”
“I—” he faltered, frowning. She wasn’t wrong, exactly, but she made it sound so big-headed . “I don’t—”
“This is your first autograph? ” Midoriya interrupted. She was clutching the signed print like it was made of solid gold, eyes still a little red-rimmed. From the look on her face, Nana was clearly finding the entire situation terribly funny. “Oh my god .”
“I don’t really get recognised that much. I’m surprised you know me at all, actually.”
She was giving that smile again — the bright, effervescent one that she always offered to citizens in need. Part of her suit, she always called it; a smile is the most important thing you wear as a hero, Toshinori.
“I’m, er… a big fan of underground heroics,” said Midoriya. “And— well— you’re my favourite. You’re always… smiling.”
Toshinori glowed .
Nana’s smile, if possible, grew even brighter. She laid a hand gently on Midoriya’s shoulder and spoke with the same warmth she always gave him.
“A smile can be more powerful than the most impressive quirk, Midoriya. Remember that. Sometimes, fighting isn’t what’s important.” Nana tapped the space above the girl’s heart softly, “It’s this that matters.”
The girl’s eyes, wide and impossibly green, were damp again, but her face was split with a dazzling smile. “Really? Even more than quirks?”
“Especially more than quirks. Sometimes a smile is all it takes to save someone.”
Midoriya nodded fiercely, tears pooling on her waterline, autograph clutched to her chest. She wiped at her face.
Before she could reply, there was a buzzing from Nana’s pocket. She pulled out the pager stowed away in her suit — untrackable, courtesy of her super-secret tech-friend who she still hadn’t introduced him to — and read the message with a raised eyebrow.
“Robbery a couple of streets away. Group of villains, one of them’s got a plant-based quirk.” She turned to him. “You ready, Toshi?”
He held up a fist. “Hell yeah.”
“Sorry to have to rush off, my girl,” she looked at Midoriya softly. “But—”
Midoriya shook her head. “No, it’s totally okay! There’s people who need you. Go, go!”
Nana ruffled the girl’s hair one last time. “You’re a good kid. Avoid the streets ‘round Hosu Bank ‘til it’s all cleared up, yeah?”
She nodded, and he and Nana leapt away. Curious despite himself, Toshi glanced back — Midoriya was still grinning, even as they dropped from sight.