Chapter Text
A month after society expels Izuku from every school in a 200 mile radius, (centerpoint: sludge villain) and a week after his mother is fired in a similar way, Izuku sends in his first job application.
It’s rejected, of course. No one wants the sludge villain kid, but he can’t do much of anything else can he? So he sends in another application, to a restaurant (rejected) and another to a botanists shop (they wouldn’t let him in the store) and another, until finally he writes his final one- the riskiest application yet.
And what does he have left to lose? He’s already tried everything he could to salvage his reputation, but the media was so keen to drag him through every mud puddle from Aldera to the gallows. It feels like all the world knows his name, and the bittersweet twist of shame reaches deep, because he’s talked with all the same reverence of a c-list villain or a dog shit stain, and isn’t that just wonderful?
He walks into the interview office, sits down, folds his trembling hands along his lap and awaits another refusal.
“You’re hired.” Nedzu says immediately.
Izuku's head jerks up, “What?”
“You’re hired. Employed. Recruited. Welcome to the team.” Nedzu says again.
Izuku wants to simultaneously sink into his chair and bang his fist on the table for answers, Kacchan style. He settles for sitting slackjawed in confusion, “I haven't even shown you my resume!”
Nedzu smiles like someone who’s just tasted a bad bit of food but can’t spit it out, “On the contrary, I think you have. It is not the most traditional
curriculum vitae, though one must remember that this is not the most traditional school
.” He slips a newspaper across the larger than life desk. “
Quirkless Boy Endangers Everyone
,”
is written in neat print characters. There is a picture of him underneath, beaten and covered in slime, with crisped hair and a black eye, and Izuku reflexively scowls for a second before remembering where he is.
“I saw that.” Nedzu says. “And there is no shame for showing anger in my office, especially if the feeling is justified.” Nedzu’s impossibly permanent smile fades, sombering to fit the mood. “I know what it’s like, to be put down like this- to be ridiculed and slandered.”
“To be less than human.” Izuku whispers before his mouth can catch up to his cellless brain.
Did he really just say that to an animal?! Right as they were talking about ridicule?! God, way to push all the human supremacy buttons! Might as well go all out and start living in the woods like a quirkless blood purist while he’s at it!
Nedzu laughs, and Izuku can’t tell if it’s genuine or a coverup for his own justified feelings. “I’d rather call it less than a person, but I do understand where you’d get the idea. Would you care for a drink, Midoriya-san? Chamomile?”
He accepts the homely red mug and washes away the nervous ramblings of his brain. It’s cherry tinged, eastern service, and makes him feel slightly more at-ease. “Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome- use the coaster please, yes thank you.”
“S-sorry.” Izuku cringes. Somehow he’s simultaneously fucking up this interview and acing it, key point being that he’s “been hired” for the past three minutes or so while also doing everything in his power to change that. Well, he guesses he may have a general knowledge of what to do during an interview, but knowledge and experience really are two wildly different things, apparently. His notebooks come to the forefront of his mind and Izuku adds that bullshit to his mental list titled: 100 reasons why you could’ve never become a field hero. He forcibly makes his brain shut the fuck up via a pinch to the thigh before he spirals into a mumble storm.
Nedzu calmly waits for Izuku’s brain to quiet. “It’s alright. But back on the topic of business, I do have a proposition for you, if you’d like to hear it?” Three stark white papers rest under Nedzu’s paw somewhat nonchalantly, and every TV drama Izuku’s ever watched is crawling out of the pits in the back of his eyes to tell him that the twitchiness in Nedzu’s claws is a sign of impatience and he should use the hell out of it. Desperation in your favor, Izuku thinks, pinching his thigh slightly harder because he’s already fucking hired- calm down.
Izuku pauses for a second and pretends to contemplate, for suspension of disbelief. Three seconds, and then, “Fire away.”
Nedzu does not immediately start talking about the proposition, seemingly using Izuku’s own tactic against him. Instead, he starts slowly folding his paws over the papers in a way that makes Izuku hyper aware of Nedzu’s pro-hero status . His smile alone is an ass kicking waiting to happen, no way in hell he’s going to survive this interview if Nedzu keeps doing that with his face. The fact that Nedzu doesn’t even have lips makes his visage equally as upsetting as it is cheerful, which is an oxymoron that he doesn’t want to delve into right now and ok-
Izuku takes another moment to compose himself behind a sip of tea, meeting Nedzu eye to eye with a look that he hopes doesn’t portray Izuku’s need to run to the nearest bathroom and never come out again. Nedzu turns the papers to face him.
“I’ve taken some time to look into you and I’ve decided to grant you the job. These right here are your proposed hours, this being your salary, and these documents over here will effectively emancipate you if you so choose. Either way you’ll have to become a ward here- staff dorms are only open for certain residents and I doubt that you’d appreciate the daily commute.”
Izuku shakes his head numbly. Just thinking about waking up at five in the morning for a cold train ride is making him yearn for a coffee, “That would suck.”
“Indeed.” Nedzu clips the papers together and hands them to Izuku with both hands, “I understand the publicity has not been kind to you either, no need to recklessly endanger yourself in the subways.”
“Yeah, thats-” Izuku pauses to reflect on that: the publicity has been bad, but Izuku’s so used to the glares and “accidental” quirkist-leaning crimes that he finds it hard to differentiate one hate from another. “I guess my Mom’s been a bit stressed lately.” He says even though she’s stressed all the time.
“Well let’s hope that extra revenue gives her time to relax.” Nedzu laughs, “your training starts Tuesday!”
Then Nedzu’s smile turns, black eyes wide with the white reflection of the overhead lights, a tinged blocky shine to his stare. “To think that you’re the first non-pro hero teaching staff in nearly a decade! What an opportunity, I truly wish you luck!” He says, tilting his head up to the ceiling to laugh like a shitty TV supervillain.
And while Izuku knows Nedzu is fucking with him, (not that Izuku blames the chimera, high specs is a prime quirk to fuck with people) the way he says it doesn’t help his awkwardly compressed breathing. He’s going to be coworkers with pro-heroes, though not in the way that four year old Izuku had initially thought.
He thinks as he accepts the papers, looking over his basic information with a mix of nervousness and acceptance. Izuku takes in the last sip of tea in hopes that the chamomile’s sedative magic still works. He’s reading the second to last page when he spots an odd blank area. “Nedzu, sir?”
“Just Nedzu is fine,”
“Well, um,” Izuku flips the paper over, but it's just more blank space. “There are a few blank areas under ‘prerequisites’ and I was wondering. . .”
“Ah, well then. Maybe we should do the paperwork here.”
The next ten minutes are spent clearing up questions while Nedzu guides his hands over the paperwork. Izuku feels like a fucking idiot for not knowing his way around the forms, but every time he so much as thinks about the awkwardness of the situation, Nedzu calmly reaches out and reassures him: “A lot of staff sign their papers in-office.” Even though there’s no way in the nine circles of hell that's true. That being said, the mental image of Vlad King in a cushy leather chair, leaning over a stack of papers while Nedzu tells him where to sign makes him less nervous at least.
“You just need to sign here and here.”
“This is for any requests-”
“Student permissions-”
“Authoritative power-”
Which is how he finds himself four or so hours later: somehow blazerless, lost in a sea of paperwork, and freshly legally hired.
“I’ll get these turned in within the day!” Nedzu says while shoving the papers neatly into some drawer. “You’re officially UA staff for the next ten years, minimum!”
Izuku pauses. Furrows his brow. Remembers reading the words “base number of years” in fine print and blindly signing along to Nedzu’s wishes. “That’s fair.” He says, because there are a lot worse things to accidentally sign yourself up for than a guaranteed well paying salary courtesy of UA. His nonchalance somehow manages to catch Nedzu off guard for a split second. Good. Taste of his own chamomile and all that.
“Well then, if you’re all signed up and ready, get out of my office!”
Theres a laced threat vaguely stuffed under those smiles, Izuku thinks, promptly forgetting about his discarded blazer as he gets the fuck out of there with a spattering of odd documents and one of Nedzu’s tea cups- completely accidentally. Guess he has a cup now, and a job.
The papers crinkle slightly in his hands as he grabs for his new keycard (a temporary, he’ll get a custom one Tuesday) and swipes it along the overly intimidating security panel to the gates of UA. The screen displays his name over a faceless placeholder photo, creepy as hell considering he’s only been here a total of- he checks his watch-
Five
hours?!
Shit, fuck, his fucking train is going to depart in ten minutes!
Izuku rushes through the rest of the gate and gets to the station with literally no time to spare, gates closing on him as he shoves his way under the legs of the evening rush. Then it's ten more minutes of commute, a train switch, a stop at the local konbini for a victory snack, and twenty more minutes walk to get home the long way ‘round- because avoiding people after Nedzu is akin to recharging the social batteries of his soul. Saying a quick “Thank you.” To the cashier who gave him the whatever-on-a-stick earlier nearly made him collapse on the street- not to be dramatic- but he doesn’t even know if he can talk to his own mother right no-
“Shit.” Izuku says, “Fuck, I forgot to tell her.”