He can hear the narrowing of Kaworu's eyes in his voice. Midoriya stares at his cereal. It's swimming weirdly even though he's not stirring it, and his throat hurts. He, too, knows what's beneath the annoyance and even that jab about being in the woods alone. It's something that hurts more, something Midoriya always gave to others without thought and was surprised when they shattered.

He'd wince comically--like he did when being scolded by his mom, a teacher, Iida--but he's so tired... He knows that he needs to practice asking for help more. It was a slip in his way of speaking. It shows how little he did that when it really mattered, and how accustomed he grew to that.

"I have some help. It's not that you can't, it's about information. Back home, heroes are common, and thanks to everyone's support, we can work publicly. Here is different, I realize. For now, I want to keep it covert and see if we need to use that to our advantage. But..."

He looks up at Kaworu and knows he has to prepare not just for that, but also for the opposite: the eventuality of everything jumping out from behind dust and ashes to attack everyone he knows.

"Thank you, Nagisa-kun." There is a ghost of the old Midoriya, a slight, vulnerable widening of eyes and a soft lift of his voice as it constricts. "That means a lot." Then his eyes fill with tears in earnest.