He squares his shoulders. They were friends first, and that, so important to Midoriya, has to count for something.

Normally he doesn't sit next to others uninvited, but here and now, he does. He and Kaworu are (have been?) too close, and Midoriya is set on not leaving him alone.

It sounds strange to hear Kaworu attach anything to the end of his name now.

"Just Izuku is fine if it's easier."

Up close, Midoriya is papery skin, sleepless shadows, and lips cut and irritated by fangs he's not used to. He's clean, in a fresh T-shirt and basketball shorts, and he's healed or been healed of his injuries, but he still has the ragged air of someone put through the ringer.

"I'm glad you're safe."

It'd be a pleasantry from someone else, but Midoriya means what he says, and it carries extra baggage weight with someone he's close to.