Nedzu and Tsukauchi leave after the former mentions for Tommy to go to the multi-level parking lot on the fourth floor when he's released ("How do you know when I'll — " "I have my ways!"), and that's when Aizawa strikes. "Tommy," he says, and the blond just sighs. He's not going to listen to this shit, because heroes in this world are assholes who don't do their jobs right, so if Aizawa spiels the same bullshit about vigilantism and how he's breaking the law and it's all wrong, Tommy is going to —

"I'm sorry."

Tommy blinks. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Aizawa repeats, and there's more weight to the word, meanings between the syllables that Tommy can't read. He looks straight ahead, meeting Tommy's eyes head on, and maybe that's purposeful so that the teen can read the honesty in them. "As a pro hero, I know the signs of abuse and trauma, and actively seek them among civilians and victims in order for proper recovery to take place. However, due to how I thought you'd react, I haven't taken proper action, and for that, I apologize.

"Furthermore, on behalf of the heroes that may have failed you enough to turn to vigilantism, I apologize for whatever actions they may have taken." Aizawa bows his head. "You do not have to forgive me or them. You do not have any obligation to do so. All I ask is a chance to prove that we are sufficient as heroes, and that we show you that we can be trusted."*

Tommy... considers it.

No one's ever been honest with him much, especially adults and authority. Sure, this world changed that just the slightest, but he still only trusts Izuku. He doesn't even have all of Tommy's trust yet.

This, though? Aizawa doesn't know the full story, maybe never will, but... it's a nice change. Maybe one that Tommy can handle.

Tommy huffs, turning his head away. "Nothin' to apologize for. 'S my choice." Then, "...Okay. I'll—believe you."

"Thank you." Aizawa stands from his bow, turning to leave. Like an afterthought, he takes something out of his pocket and hands it to him. Tommy blinks — it's a phone number.

"My contact info." Aizawa states, before finally leaving.

Tommy quietly sighs, rolling his shoulders that got tense as he holds the slip of paper. He reaches for his costume that they'd left, taking out a golden apple slice and popping it into his mouth.

This is a risk, giving trust out so freely like he has. But if this place — this world — is any different than the Dream SMP, even if by a little, then Tommy will allow himself to hope.

===

A few days later, when Tommy's fully healed ("I-It's like a miracle! What would've taken weeks to heal, has now shortened to days time! You're very lucky, young man..." As the doctor goes on a rant, something about quirk or mutation or enhanced healing or whatever, Tommy swallows a bit of the slice he was chewing on and nods along), he's discharged from the hospital. He barely listens to what the doctor says beforehand — condition is fine, blah blah blah, no medical equipment or medicine needed, blah blah blah, avoid too much strenuous movement, yeah yeah yeah. (He skillfully ignores the part wherein the doctor recommends therapy, and not the physical kind.)

Basically, Tommy's okay, and that's all that matters.

(...How was he even still here anyways? He's a vigilante for fucks sake, authorities should be on his ass. Then again, Aizawa didn't turn him in — either heroes are actually kind like that, which is highly unlikely, Aizawa is soft, the hospital lives under a rock and doesn't know who he is, or Nedzu pulled some strings.

"Thomas Mycroft," The doctor says once or twice during his tirade, and ah. So that's the cover name Nedzu chose.)

Tommy's wearing a long-sleeved shirt and some pants, eyepatch still on, his vigilante costume and weaponry in his inventory, when he leaves the place and goes up the multi-layered parking lot. There, partially visible, are two people waiting for him. Well, there's many people outside, but the two men in harshly contrasting colors stand out a lot. Tommy squints his eyes when one of them beckons him over — wait. Dark hair, heavy eyebags — Aizawa?

The other man, who'd been chatting animatedly about something, whips his head towards Tommy in break-neck speed when he sees Aizawa staring. His blond hair's tugged back in a bun, strands of hair flowing wildly under it. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white sleeveless shirt, as well as some loose pants and brown shoes. A set of box-framed glasses sit on his nose. If Tommy looks a little closer, there's a small mustache above his lips.

And then the man screams, loud and overwhelming like he's right in Tommy's fucking ears because the entire parking lot makes it echo. It hurts, and there's the faint scent of explosions wafting up his nose, and Tommy wrenches his eyes closed and covers his ears as if it'll make those phantom screams stop wailing, as if it'll make its transition to Wilbur's reprimands any less harsher, and — and —

Calm down — calm down. Breathe. Take it easy. He's okay. He's okay! No war going on. It was just a sound, just a yell. Stop being so wriggly about it.

Tommy takes a breath, or maybe a dozen, and forces his eyes open. Aizawa's moved over to him and looks a bit concerned, which means very concerned for someone like him, and when had he even moved? The man's saying something — oh, right, his ears are covered.

Hesitatingly, Tommy uncovers his ears just the slightest.

The first thing he hears is: "—tener I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you so badly! I was just so excited to meet you and — "

Aizawa's voice overlays it, which Tommy finds much more easier to listen to than the gradually-increasing volume of the ramble. "Tommy?" He asks, not too close yet not too far. "Tommy, are you here now?"

" — never had a teenager as a faculty member before — "

Tommy nods, hands still hovering over his ears. Yes, the loud bitch is talking softer, but as he keeps fucking rambling, his voice is getting louder as he progresses. And then that echoes in the area, which doesn't solve anything, only takes shit back to point-zero.

"Hizashi!" Aizawa hisses, when the man — Hizashi? — gets to a certain point. He shuts up, and for a moment, it's blissfully quiet.

Then, he opens his mouth. Tommy flinches, a minuscule thing, but it has Aizawa narrowing his eyes once more at his companion. "Sorry," the loud man whispers.

Tommy straightens from the crouched position he subconsciously made himself in, soon waving a dismissive hand at the guy as his hands fall to his sides. Prime, his back fucking hurts. "'S fine," the teenager says, a little surprised that he means it.

If he'd been a few months younger, Tommy would've bared his teeth and run off, probably down the alleyways and into Musutafu once more. Or, he would've — ugh — panicked 'til he felt like he couldn't breathe, and then been mad when he recovered. Now, he just feels... understanding? He feels fine.

Tommy looks at his palm for a moment. He feels fine.

...Huh.

"Who the fuck're you?" Tommy questions, pointing at the loud man. He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm Yamada Hizashi, little listener," he states.

"Tommy In — Craft. Tommy Craft, or Craft Tommy. However the fuck it is. " Tommy says, his true last name feeling sour on his tongue.

...Wait —

"I'm not fuckin' little!" Tommy protests vehemently, because it is the fucking truth. "I, Tommy-fucking-Innit, am the biggest man ever!"

Yamada doesn't answer, which, hey, Tommy expects a fucking apology here for calling him a child. Instead, the man just opens the car, sliding into the driver's seat.

Oh. Wait, where were they going?

"You two gonna take me somewhere?" The biggest man there soon asks, tilting his head towards the car they're standing near. Aizawa grunts in confirmation; Yamada nods a little enthusiastically, visible even in the shade of the multi-level parking lot. "Yep!" He pops the 'P,' "To your new house."

Tommy blinks. House? "Not an apartment?"

"Would you like an apartment instead?" Aizawa suggests. "Nedzu can easily arrange that."

Eyebrows furrowing, the teenager considers it. He's more used to living in an apartment due to Inko's hospitality and kindness. And, he gets to see Izuku often. However, there's a lot of cons to living in one. Not much space for crafting or furnaces, and most likely not weaponry either is one. Then there's other residents in different floors.

"...Nah," Tommy decides. He needs more space. 'Sides, if he's near U.A., Izuku can see him, which he'll definitely be happy with. "I'll stay in a house."

"Also," he tacks on, "can I get my shit first?"

===

So that's how Tommy finds himself in their car going to Izuku's place, giving the apartment complex's address. He'd been hesitant on getting in the car despite how fucking cool it looked, but Aizawa and Yamada convinced him to get in. It was pretty cool to see the world pass by when it would've taken hours to go by foot like usual.

The radio's on, playing some music that Tommy honestly can't find the energy to pay attention to. The walls feel a bit too close (and it is too fucking dark and no no he has to get out—) and his heart picks up as his fingers twitch, resisting the urge to roll one of the windows down. Tommy focuses on breathing, on all the colors that move by out the window. His leg bounces lightly; his eyes dart around wildly.

Focus on something else. Focus on —

— Tubbo and Wilbur and Tommy and Fundy

and Eret and Dream and Sapnap and George

within the cage that is the Final Control Room

as the (f̶o̶r̶g̶i̶v̶e̶n̶) traitor presses a button

and the gates open

and a weapon

wrenches

through

his

g u t —

— today. Last night.

Today all seems like a fever dream.

He got unlucky and unfocused enough to get knocked out in front of a hero, of all things, and it's the one day he has no milk. Then he wakes, disorientated, to find said hero, as well as a mouse hybrid principal and a detective, looming over him. The principal turns out to be the devil personified, and Tommy makes a deal with him to go to the one place where Izuku goes to school and give lessons in turn for a nice life. And now, he's going to get his shit, somehow explain to Inko that no, he's not leaving 'cause of her or Izuku, yes, he'll visit, no, he doesn't need any more medical assistance, Tommy will be okay, and yes, he'll watch Izuku for her. The last part, not in that order, but still important.

All from what was supposedly a normal night. Prime, he needs to train more.

Tommy looks at the two men in front of him. Aizawa looks so tired (more so than usual) as Yamada drives, looking out the window while the latter sings along. The louder man's fingers drum against the wheel. Reluctantly, Tommy lets his head loll to the side, settling on his left shoulder that's facing the car window.

The blond frowns. Despite the deliberately off-key singing (or maybe that was his actual talent?), Yamada kinda sounds like—

Like—

Tommy snaps himself to attention. "Present Mic?!" He blurts out, and then immediately shuts the fuck up when Aizawa turns to him and Yamada (Present Mic????????) pauses his singing.

"...You just realized that?" The underground hero questions as they stop at a red light.

Tommy sputters. "I'm— Bitch— Ex-fucking-cuse me for being distracted because I just got out of the fucking hospital and am now going to get my shit to move somewhere else!"

"Calm down, little listener," Present Mic placates (and he hasn't fucking denied it.) He pointedly ignores the "little listener's" indignant cries of "I'm a big man!" to continue with, "but you're right — I'm Present Mic in the flesh, baby! How'd you know?"

Ugh. Should Tommy tell them? How hard would they tease him?

...Then again, many people listen to his radio show. For sure. Right? Tommy can not be the only one who does.

Oh, fuck it.

"Listened to your radio show," Tommy mumbles, crossing his arms and looking out the window. The blurs of gray, towering buildings and bits of green foliage here and there whizz by. "While I was livin' on a beach. Found a good radio in the junk, used to listen to it a lot. Your radio show is one of the frequent ones."**

Aizawa raises a brow, a frown marring his face. "Living on a— "

"You're a fan of it?!" Present Mic exclaims, giving Aizawa a look before momentarily looking behind him to stare at Tommy. A car honks behind them; the light's been on green for a little bit, now. Present Mic immediately yells out an apology that makes Tommy wince, and drives on.

"Not so loud, dickhead!" He scowls, trying to turn his head more to the window. Man, they really make a lot of adaptations to cars for specific types of quirks.

"Ah, sorry again, Tommy," Present Mic expresses once more, one of his hands lifting from the wheel to scratch the nape of his neck. "I just get excited, you know? A real fan, right in front of me! ...And I naturally yell louder, what with the whole nature of my quirk."

"'S fine, man," Tommy says, "just. Y'know." He makes a vague hand gesture. Present Mic nods in understanding after his eyes flit towards the inside rear view mirror.

"Yeah, I'll be more careful," he promises. "But tell me about what you like about the show, listener!" The rest of the ride is in lowered discussion about the show, although Aizawa never stops glancing at him with that peculiar look in his eyes.

===

Tommy feels safe when he enters the apartment complex and goes up the familiar flight of stairs, all the way to the Midoriya's apartment. Everything hasn't really changed, which is nice.

"Careful with what you say," cautions Tommy when they near the apartment. "Mrs. Midoriya doesn't know I am — was a vigilante."

Aizawa nods; Yamada says, "You got it, little listener." Tommy will let that slide for once, so as to not make noise.

He knocks on the apartment door once, and —

"TOMMY!"

— gets an armful of 5'4 teenager almost instantaneously, said teenager's arms wrapping around him and squeezing like a stuffed animal. Tommy wheezes, stumbling back a bit because holy shit, the twig grew stronger, before slowly wrapping his own arms around Izuku's body.

"What's good, Big Man?" Tommy manages, using a hand to softly pat Izuku's head of green hair.

"Stop scaring me like this," the shorter responds, voice muffled from where his face is tucked into Tommy's neck. There's already a small wet patch on the shoulder of his shirt. "And stop acting so c-casual*** when you come back. Please. You can't just — we exchanged numbers for a reason, Tommy. My mom will get gray hairs — I will get gray hairs."

Tommy snorts, feeling his head and shoulders droop a bit, as well as his muscles relax. "No promises," he says; it comes out a bit strained. Izuku must realize this because he relaxes his vice-like hold instead of squeezing harder, the kind soul.

However, Tommy's also made him into a little shit, something he both loathes and delights in. "Tommy," Izuku says, deathly serious, pulling away to look at him dead in the eye but not enough to release his hold. Now that Tommy can actually see him, he looks a bit more... disheveled than usual, with his fluffy hair more tangled and his eyes with eye-bags that stand out on his pale skin. Speaking of Izuku's eyes, they're a bit swollen and a little red, but it's honestly a miracle he hasn't bursted into tears. "I'm going to watch my mom be all overbearing and strangle you with affection until you're almost drained, and no matter how many looks you send me, I'm not gonna alleviate it."

Tommy gasps. "You fucking wouldn't!"

Izuku lets go and smirks, crossing his arms, the bastard. "I would." Then, he shrugs. "Plus, you deserve it."

"Ugh," Tommy definitely does not pout. He does a manly scowl, thank you very much. "Must've left too much of me on you. You've gone to a literal angel to a gremlin!"

"Like you aren't one y-yourself," Izuku bites back.

"You motherfu— "

Present Mic coughs. Izuku glances over once and immediately freezes, before his hands start waving around, stars blooming in his eyes. "P-Present Mic?! The—The Voice pro hero?! Host of Put Your Hands Up Radio?! Standing right in front of my — oh my god I— I have to get my — I have to get my — Tommy, why did you — I'm — I look so ridiculous but — notebooks — "

Izuku, the poor kid, comically freezes once more when he sees Aizawa. He flushes right to his ears, hand reaching up to ruffle his hair while he glances at anything but the man. "Ahaha," he laughs awkwardly, giving a little wave. "Hi... S-Sensei."

"Have a talk later an' shit," Tommy demands, snatching Izuku's hand and making him follow the blond as he enters the apartment. "Mrs. Midoriya! I'm here!"

Something in the kitchen is hurriedly set down, before the soft patter of rushing feet comes closer to Tommy. Then, Inko shows up, a smile blooming on her face when she sees him. "Tommy!" She exclaims, slowing down as she gets closer until she can wrap her arms around him in a gentle hug. Tommy is the biggest man ever known, but he can't help but admit that yes, he fucking melted in her hold.

When Izuku's mother lets go, she's already heading towards the kitchen, beckoning Tommy over. "Come, come," she insists, which the blond teenager can't help but follow, "I made some udon for lunch."

"Wait, what about — " Tommy begins, but Inko's already calling out to Izuku. "Bring your guests inside," she orders, moving to the fridge and taking out chives, uncooked shrimp, and carrots, "I'll make more for them — come and help me." Then, "You can help if you want to as well, Tommy."

"Right!" Izuku responds, directing the two heroes to the living room and motioning them to sit. Then, he appears in the kitchen, already heading over to take out some pre-home-made udon noodles out. Tommy doesn't respond to Inko, only moving to get a pot out, filling it with water, and putting it on the stove to boil.

It all feels so... normal. Like routine. Prime, Tommy's gonna be the change that fucking wrecks this — this tranquility, this haven.

Fuck. Fuck.

Soon, the scent of freshly-cooked udon makes its way throughout the apartment, along with something a little spicy and with cooked meat, already making Tommy drool. This already smells way better than whatever the fuck the hospital food was. He can barely restrain himself from already digging in when Inko sets three more bowls down onto the living room futon, Aizawa and Yamada having not touched the two already present.

Then, Inko and Izuku settle down, and all of them say "thank you for the food" with their hands clasped except for Tommy. When they're done he immediately starts digging in, forsaking all manners, because holy shit Inko's cooking is as delicious as always. (He wants to stop thinking about the inevitable, too, if even for a moment.)