CHAPTER 20

MUSUBI

When the blue-skinned, brain-exposed monstrosity as large as two All Mights put together piledrove on Edgeshot's head, Mei's reaction was not unlike any reasonable, scientifically trained, rational teenager without a death wish: Reeling back and scream inside, What the hell has just happened? and What the hell is that thing?

Underneath the windows, Edgeshot had extricated himself from the hulking monstrosity. He was still very much in the fight, but the cocky, all-confident look had vanished altogether. He was circling the beast, watching, not acting. He did shoot part of himself at the monster several time, but only to bait, not to attack.

It was almost a good thing he didn't know Mei and all her friends were stuck in the building. If he had, he might not have had the patience to study the beast as thoroughly as he was trying. The realization throttled her breath... until Midoriya put his finger to his chin and began mumbling

"Edgeshot's quirk has everything to do with stopping power," Midoriya mumbled. "Of course he isn't going to fare very well against an enemy who regenerates... but if he can strike his vitals then maybe he could stop him... it isn't like that villain can hurt him as well; he can just turn into a sheet and dissipate all impact-"

Mineta waved his arms wildly. "M-M-M-Midoriya? T-the villains are inside!" he cried. "What're we gonna do? What're we-"

The chant would have gone on forever if not for a very sharp pinch on his shoulder. Subtle, Uraraka.

For his part Midoriya just narrowed his eyes. He was strangely... relaxed.

"They are... and that doesn't matter much," he said. "Now they might know the layout of the building, or they may not. If they do, they'd immediately beeline for the more vulnerable assets – computer rooms, equipment stores, security robot cabinets... that sort of things. If they don't, they'd wander around the place doing wanton damage." His gaze swept across their little group of refugees. "Either way the classrooms are likely the last place they would come knocking."

Mineta gulped. "Y-you mean we'll be safe here?"

Midoriya nodded forcefully. "For a time, yes," he said. "In fact we could be completely safe if we lie low and do nothing... if the pros arrive on time."

"If?" asked Uraraka.

Midoriya's fingers glided across his smartphone screen. The map of Greater Tokyo on the screen was showing a distressingly large number of red dots.

"It doesn't matter if each villain attack is individually small," he said. "This many attacks at the same time is going to strain emergency response to the point we might have to wait for hours before heroes other than Edgeshot arrives." He threw a sideways glance at the window's direction. "More if the authorities assume he could handle everything here alone." Which he probably can't, went unsaid.

"Are you s-seriously suggesting," squeaked Mineta, "we fight them?"

"No," said Midoriya. "That would be reckless... and illegal. Doesn't mean we can't accidentally leave certain dangerous material lying where unfortunate passers-by can step on..."

Midoriya's freckled face was dead serious as per normal, but Mei was wondering if he wasn't holding down a mild chuckle or two beneath the surface.

And then he inched closer to Mei. "Let's say, Hatsume?" he said "You said you've tried to make something out of Ms. Midnight's sleeping gas, right?" He scratched his head. "Do you still have any left?"

It wasn't until then that a hidden switch in her head went flick. A screen of fog evaporated before Mei's eyes. They said fear had a way of shutting down rational thoughts. Mei wouldn't like to make excuses for herself: the fact was that the better part of her brain had shut down over the last ten minutes and that was a mark of shame.

Being reminded by a layman of your own babies was unacceptable! An inventor wasn't supposed to crack, natch! Always sharp and astute, always ready to come up with new ideas... and new babies!

Besides, this was her home turf. This was where all her babies were. This was where people like their teachers and the pro heroes out there would fight and defend so that people like her could keep creating and making and improving. This was where she had to take some kind of a stand: She could do this – for the hero society that made her life's dream not only possible but within reach!

One solid breath, then two, then three. Keeping calm under fire was easier after the first gasp.

Then she pulled herself up, dusted her uniform, and gave the firmest nod she could muster. "Of course I do, silly Midoriya!" she exclaimed. "And there's more where it comes from!"

She forced a very bright smile – All Might had scientifically proven that smiles dispelled immediate fear – and dove towards the pile of her brainchilds.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said. "Say hello to my nursery of cute babies!"

A few explosions and a dollop of broken glass had not done them much harm. Or any at all: they were Mei's babies and that meant built to last unless they exploded themselves. And were there many to choose from: Guns, spiny yo-yos, pieces and bits of unfinished powered armor, fists powered by hydraulic pistons, and at least two prototypes for Piyocchan's successors. Near the top of the pile there was the baby she owed Midoriya: his new sling-gauntlet, complete with a new ridge-pipe loaded with a new, experimental sort of ammo.

"Got a few... experimental pressure-plate triggered devices there somewhere if someone wants to try recreating the Temple of Doom," she said with a wink. "But first thing first: Midoriya, catch!"

She picked up the new and improved sling-gauntlet – that she had been working on before the embarrassing incident in the morning – and tossed it at Midoriya's general direction.

"You wanted to fight, don't you?" she cried. "You heard the good doc! No fighting, quirk-using, body-straining without the proper support!"

Mineta's grape-tuft were shaking. "A-are you insane, Hatsume?" he cried. "D-don't encourage the madman to pick a fight!"

"Shush, you," she said. "We inventors wear insanity like a badge of honor."

Midoriya shook his head too. "Of course not," he said. "Like I said, let's leave mildly irritating material of adhesive or anaesthetic qualities around, and if they walk into it..." He coughed. "Their fault in the first place, right?"

"Their fault," Mei said.

"Okay, everyone, let's get started!" said Midoriya. "Hatsume, sort out anything you have that can trap up this floor! Uraraka, lend her a hand if you will? And Mineta..." There, his face went mischievous again! "Let's go find some strategic locations to hide your balls!"

The plan was a solid one.

Except it never got to start.

No sooner had Mei walked off with a spring in her step than the door into the classroom burst open, torn from its hinge by a sandy gust.

Behind the dust screen came heavy footsteps. A gasp choked in Mei's throat. At the doorway stood the armored figure controlling the sandstorm at the gate. It was an archaic coat of scale that hung all the way to her ankle, complete with a veiled war-mask that covered her face but for her eyes.

"The wind of changes is coming; I feel it in the sand beneath my feet," she said. "My name is Windswept Azadan. And you-" She took another step into the room. "No need to tell me your name, shrimps. You and I, we're the same thing: sacrifices for a better tomorrow. Except they're going tor remember our names and not yours"

Her voice was inhuman, for lack of better words: no emotion except for a hatred that, logically, had no business being there at all.

For his part Mineta was screaming. For once, perhaps Class 1-A's resident pervert was right to do what he did.

Bilbo Baggins was staring at the mouth of the cavern before him with much disbelief and trepidation. And Ori was so, so proud of himself.

"How did you know there would be an entrance here?" asked Bilbo.

The search for an entrance along the mountainside was far less arduous and time-consuming than Master Baggins probably expected. Hardly half an hour had passed when Ori gestured him towards a broad opening in the rock. At first sight, it was not exactly conspicuous: the mouth of the cavern was large enough for maybe two to walk abreast, and there were neither track nor tread leading to or from it.

To say Ori was ecstatic would be a criminal understatement.

"You know what they say, Mister Baggins," he said. "We dwarves are made from stone carved by Mahal's hands; from Durin the Deathless onwards. It goes without saying our forefather would have kinship with the rock of the earth, and the greatest of our ancestors could know whether a vein of rock would lead to gold or gems or iron just by touching it." He rapped his thick finger on the solid wall. "Most of us have that sense about us still, even in these days when our kind has been... well, diminished."

"Can you truly sense, well, the way just by touching the rock?" asked Bilbo, and Ori could hear the incredulity in his tongue. Not that he would take offense at the good hobbit. He wasn't a dwarf.

"Well... not quite, no," he said sheepishly. "They say reading stone is like reading a person. You can see their look, and maybe the drift they're getting at if you are of a clever and inquisitive sort, but their depth you shall never truly know. Same for stone. We know where a cave might be, and sometimes whether it may more likely lead to good or ill things if we have enough of a feel for it; but rarely shall we ever look at any opening in the earth and tell at once what lies at the bottom."

Ori placed his ear on the rock. And sure enough, down, down, perhaps as far as a hundred yards vertically, there was the splashing and sploshing of liquid, echoing upwards through the veins of rock.

"Nevertheless, I can hear water echoing from the rock, see?" he said gleefully. "Water that has things living about it other than goblins and orcs; though whether this means ill or well I can only assume – incorrectly."

"It is water we are looking for, I believe," said Bilbo, patting on the many empty water-skins for emphasis. "Now, on to the task at hand..."

Ori nodded, and off they went into the unknown.

The cave soon opened into a very massive network of criss-crossing tunnels, both natural and dug-out (presumably by goblin hands, or perhaps those unfortunate enthralled by their whip and wickedness). There were many forks in the first tunnel alone, leading east and west and north and south and down.

It was exquisitely spectacular. Goblins might not be good for much, as most dwarves would rightly admit, but their eyes for good caves were second only to dwarves. What a waste of perfectly dwellable and delvable caverns, that.

Now Ori could hardly keep up with the mapping, furiously scribbling on the pages as he was. Excitement filled him, and at once he could not think of any evil thing that would befall them. Well, perhaps he did, but he dismissed his worries as naysaying. Why spend time being afraid of goblins hiding in the dark, when he had Master Bilbo Baggins with him?

"You keep your eyes on the track, my good sir," he said, "and I'll jot it down! No sweat at all, Mister Baggins!"

The good Master Baggins' reply was something of a cross between a chuckle and a groan.

Izuku had thought up, in the span of five minutes, about a dozen scenarios as to how they could trap, incapacitate, neutralize, or otherwise wall off at least some of the villains while keeping themselves safe and hidden.

Exactly none of which had involved the villains finding them first.

"H-how did... how did you know we're here?"

The villainess folded her arms. "Because someone's been making more noises than a swineherd at a slaughterhouse," she said. "Which makes sense... you are like a swineherd at a slaughterhouse. Ours."

Izuku gritted his teeth. "What if we don't intend to be your... sacrifices?"

More footsteps echoed from outside. "Well, too bad, m'boy."

Into the room walked another villain: it was the muscular villain with a flesh cape for a headgear, wearing punkish armor on his torso and a sneer on his face. Now that he had a closer look, Izuku was sure he'd known the name.

"Y-you are Trapezius Headgear the bank-robber and hostage-taker!" he cried. "Never to commit a crime without taking hostages and endangering innocent!"

"Why, am I famous!" Trapezius Headgear performed a bow in complete mockery. "What can I say? 'Tis an unfair world, you see, with the heroes and the law being so overwhelming and overbearing. Gotta level the playing field a bit, don'tcha agree?"

"What do you want with U.A.?" cried Izuku. "Why target a school?"

"You heard the old man," she said, walking in a half-circle around them. "This society is an aberration, and this school in the middle of it. The brave fellow isn't the only one who'd give up his life to see it crumble."

"And I get well-paid for the business," said Trapezius Headgear. "Just business, kids, but the clients wanted some destruction and bloodshed. Too bad for you."

Bloodshed? They want to kill us?

Izuku shook off the immediate fear. This was no time to be afraid, especially if they wanted to survive this ordeal!

Click went his head. "You can't seriously think to destroy U.A.!" he exclaimed. "Because you can't! In half an hours the pros shall come back and-"

Trapezius Headgear howled. "Relax, relax, don'tcha waste your precious neurons for us," he said. "We're too small a team to wreck this pretty place." His fingers were playing with the thick iron chain on his neck. "Doesn't mean we can't do some... shall we say, permanent damage? How could the hero society call itself 'heroic' when it couldn't even save a bunch of students in peril?"

"Like we'll let you!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, we've got a badass over here!" The villain clapped his hands. "Guess what, we ain't got no time for good-for-nothing hero-trainees. Azadan, my dear girl? Smoke the idiot. Gotta ransack the place for stuff worth more than a couple of whiny kids-"

"You aren't taking care of them personally, sir?"

Trapezius Headgear made a mock-surprise face. "And what, get saddled with a child-killing charge? Oh no no no, that's for you gal. Not like you have anything better to do in your life than throwing it away for the cause!"

That meshed war-mask might have been made for protection; it was also extremely good at hiding expressions and emotions. When the villainess spoke again, it was with a business-like, matter-of-course tone.

"Understood," she said. "Should've left school while you could, kids."

"That's more like it," laughed the villain like a hyena. "Now cover me while I wreck some 'bots and grab some valuables!"

"Like I'll let you!" cried Izuku. A sling bullet slid down the tubing and into his hand; Izuku leaned back and did what he do best: A spark of power, followed by an immense rip.

The solid shot hurled itself at the armored villainess... and glanced harmlessly off the curtain of sand and gravel. "Not bad at all," she mused. "But not good enough!"

She clasped her hands. Izuku could only feel his feet being ripped off the ground. a scream choked in his throat, the sound of Trapezius Headgear laughing and running off resounding in his head. His face, covered with dust. His mouth, full of sand. Sand... so much sand...

His back hit the wall with a thud. Pain spread along his spine and spilled into his arms and legs. His head rang like a bell. He struggled to his feet, and half expected another blow in the face like the last one.

But at once Izuku tasted blood in his mouth, and heard no sound but Mineta's scream. His eyes saw nothing but a tornado swirling in the room. Sand and gravel was funneled through the various cracks and crevices in the wall, materializing into a raging sandstorm that edged ever closer to his friends.

He forced his eyes open. The masked villain was marching forward now, seemingly unstoppable. The sandstorm roared and howled, throwing around furniture and debris. Mineta was hiding behind a none too sturdy table. Uraraka and Hatsume weren't doing much better: there was only so much Uraraka's table-shields could do.

Think, Izuku, think! What use is a hero if he can't save those in front of him?

And then his eyes, swollen and misty, caught a glimpse of the space beneath her feet. The floor beneath her feet was too pristine, like the vicious sandstorm had never swept across it.

Could it be... she has a minimum range?

Izuku's arm twitched, and underneath his hand he found something long, round and cold to the touch: A steel pipe, blown away from Hatsume's gadget pile. It was heavy and not very balanced, but fit so well in his hand... and felt so much like that practice club he was wielding in Rivendell.

And that much, that much, felt so much like hope.

If One For All could buff up my arms so much... what about my feet?

At once Izuku sprang up, tearing the pipe from whatever machine was holding it hostage, and brandished it like a club..

"Shield, Hatsume!"

His voice rang out without much thought behind it. In fact, had he given it some rational thought he'd have realized there was no way Hatsume could have known he meant a literal shield, and even if she had, there was no way she would have something of the sort stocked in her pile.

He would have underestimated Hatsume Mei very, very sorely.

The round object hurtling towards him came not from Hatsume's hands, but Uraraka's. It arrived at Izuku's hands virtually weightless: a circular spin-disc the size of a serving tray and three times as thick, followed by a quick nod. He caught a second, approving nod from Hatsume.

One For All... to my feet and legs. Breakthrough!

There was no time for thoughts much more rational than that. The next tornado of sand and gravel was already coming at him specifically.

Izuku drew the hugest breath his lung could accommodate, and gave the ground a mighty, tile-shattering kick... and shot forth like a bullet.

In hindsight, the whole thing about running off looking for water seemed more and more like a hare-brain adventure even by the standards of the present, very hare-brained, adventure.

The wet walls and gravelly floor took Bilbo down, down, down. At first there was no indication whatsoever and Bilbo was going in effectively blind, guided by nothing but Ori's enthusiastic steps and his own sense of responsibility.

Then his senses sharpened; he heard water flowing in the distance and saw the blurry texture of the walls and the floor, and made out the vague shape of the cave in all its snaking twists and turns. Then his nose wrinkled on its own, for the air was thick with the stench of things unwashed and rotting alike – dank and stagnant, as was the wont of places never exposed to wind and sun and the great open.

After a while Ori's hands left his pages. He was drifting to the front, as if enthusiasm had taken all sensibilities from him, and his steps were altogether too energetic and eager. He was not scratching his graphite upon parchment any more, the adventurer long kept dormant having replaced the scholar. No, he was looking and staring and gawking and marveling at every nook and cranny, every stalactite and stalagmite, every bit of slimy moss growing out of the ordinary.

But soon even Bilbo started to take note of the changing surrounding. They were no longer in a dank entryway, but were walking on a very massive stone walkway over a chasm underneath, of which nothing could be seen but for darkness. The cavern roof was far above, with many stalagmites pointing sharply down, and patches of luminous fungi here and there. On the far side of the natural bridge there was the faint gleam of torchlight, and the stench of goblins was getting just a little more noticeable. They were just about to enter something big, and the realization filled Bilbo with excitement and trepidation alike.

"Isn't that... light?" said Bilbo. "That means nothing good for a couple of burglars looking for water! We should choose another path-"

But Ori did not move. "Should we indeed?" he said as if mesmerized. "Least let me look upon it for some time – we've gotten this far, haven't we?" he exclaimed – softly. "We don't see this very often in the Blue Mountains!"

"Don't you?" asked Bilbo. "You're dwarves, aren't you?"

"Above-ground dwarves, by the time of my brothers and I," he said. "Not a lot of wealth to be made digging in these days, not that Nori and I were any good at that business. But there's still good money to be made trading, so that's what we do. A former city guard has just the right skillset to keep a caravan safe and sound for the most part." "I envy him sometimes. Dori gets to see all the beautiful places in the world."

Bilbo rubbed his chest. "If you wanted to see the world so much," he asked, "why didn't you leave?"

Ori didn't answer – not unless you would count stop walking as a response of a sort. Bilbo, at any rate, did so.

"I apologize, I mean no offense," he said.

"None taken, Master Baggins," said Ori. "Just that... the question never truly crossed my mind. The Blue Mountains is a good place for an exiled people, you see. We have some semblance of community there. Belonging. Home. That sort of thing. Didn't treat us too badly for the most part." He drew a deep breath, and began walking again. "Why do you think good old Dori got a taste for fine cloth and fine wine? We weren't too poor. Just... bored, for the most part, and boredom invites mischief."

Suddenly Ori stopped. "Oh. Mahal."

Trouble came first in the way of a commotion at the far side of the bridge. Hardly had they thought to turn around and back off when a small patrol squad of goblins descended upon them. Four in total, clad in rags and iron chest-pieces crudely wrought from tools and leather straps, holding high their curved and wicked blades.

"Goodness gracious," said Bilbo. "Uh, I'm sorry for intruding – we're just travellers looking for some water and-"

Negotiation, obviously, wasn't going to work out. The goblins shouted and hollered in their guttural speech, and hurled themselves at the duo.

Bilbo took one step back, and calmed himself. There was no slings about him, but after those few months trying to catch up with Izuku's new fighting style, Bilbo's old hand for throwing had come back, more solid than before. He rolled on the ground, and picked out a jagged piece of rock fitting his palm, and hurled it at the first goblin. There was a great clonk: the rock hit the goblin's crude iron helmet; he staggered to the side, lost his footing and tumbled all the way down the abyss below.

The other three goblins were charging at Ori, scimitar high above their heads. Before Bilbo could act, the all too tiny dwarf had wheeled about, ducking beneath the slashes. He came behind one of the goblins, and shunk went his knife through its bare back. He whisked himself around, using the poor goblin as a shield: its two comrades' blades fell on its twitching body, killing it on the spot.

That was the point Bilbo stopped watching, picked up one stone and then another. Clonk and thunk they went, and the two goblins fell in a heap with dents in their iron helmets.

Ori dusted his hands, wiped his knife on the goblin's corpse and sheathed it like it was nothing.

Bilbo was sure his eyes were deceiving him. "Master Ori?" he said. "How did you..."

"Just as you do all the time, Master Baggins. You can learn a whole lot of things by observing." He lowered his voice sheepishly. "And I... had the fortune – or lack thereof – to witness my brother at work in several not very prideworthy moments. Nobody expect dwarves to tumble, let's just say."

"I, uh... well, I'll not ask further then," said Bilbo.

But short indeed was their celebration: From the other end of the walkway came a small company of goblins beyond immediate count, streaming and swarming into the walkway. Just as they were about to back off – and run back to where they came from – four goblins dropped down from the ledge above them, bearing spears and scimitars and harsh growls from the base of their throats.

Bilbo gulped. Cornered by a bunch of goblins. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

"W-what do we do now, Master Baggins?" said Ori, his bravery – understandably and entirely forgivably – cracking.

"Eh... well..." Bilbo would say something. Anything. But his jaw was locking, and only his legs were moving, back, back, back, against the edge of the rocky bridge.

They were backing and backing and backing to the edge of the walkway. The goblins pushing forward and forward and forward, as though savouring the thrill of the hunt: their preys were cornered and squirming; why wouldn't they?

Just then Ori let off a yelp, stumbling on a rock. He almost feel over the edge, but balanced backwards just in time. The rock was less lucky, and disappeared into the darkness below... and upward echoed a deep splash.

"Water?"

It was the best sound that Bilbo had heard throughout their overly long night. "There's our escape!" he cried, and found enough courage to actually smile.

Didn't even take a blink for Ori to catch the drift. "I'd try my luck with some knee-deep water," he said, "than a forest of goblin-swords,"

"My thoughts exactly," said Bilbo. He looked behind him, at the blackness below – then at the row of goblins in front. And then back to the abyss. Here goes nothing! "On my count, one... two... THREE!"

They fell backwards, hand-in-hand, into the blackness below.

The bad news was Izuku's legs were numb. His feet were strained just short of breaking point. His face was buffeted with so much sand and dirt he thought he was being buried alive. His uniform was in tatters, and the flesh beneath felt like he'd been lashed with a rawhide scourge.

But the good news: Izuku was through. His own weight behind a solid metal plate, propelled though only by a fraction of One For All, had shattered and scattered the wall of sand. His calculation was correct: The shield of sandstorm was only so effective against small projectiles without much mass behind it. A hundred and thirty pounds of himself and his shield, it couldn't stop so well. In one single move he burst through the curtain, came down on the villainess' head, and aimed a solid blow on her shoulder.

His sand-washed eyes could see a glint behind the villainess' war mask: surprise, and maybe a little fear too. If not for the fact that his opponent was smart enough to pack a blade of her own, the clash would have been settled with that one swipe.

"Q-quick thinking, boy!"

There was no way she could maintain the sandstorm wall while dueling him inside her minimum range. It didn't matter either way: he caught her in a melee, and that meant the table was turned. Sure, he wasn't standing very well no more, but he could limp around still. In a duelling-mat less than three yards in diameter, maybe limping around was all he needed.

Gale and wind howled in his ears; there was a nauseating amount of sand in his mouth. His eyes were watering so much he could only catch the blurry armored shape of his opponent, and the tint of her scimitar under the sundown light through shattered windows. A villainess, armored to the teeth in plated mail, face behind a veiled war-mask, altogether taller, bulkier and better-armed than Izuku could reasonably be expected to handle.

Except for one little thing, Izuku gritted his teeth: I've been trained by dwarves.

Because a steel pipe was in essence just a mace. And fighting between mace and sword, hadn't he seen that before?

"Baruk... Khazad!"

The words came to Izuku's chafed lips like a tongue of his own. His shield was raised high now, and the sound of the blade clanging solidly against it was the best thing he had heard in a while. More wonderful still was the dull thud that followed: all his weight was behind the shield, and he knocked the villainess back, very nearly into her own sandstorm.

There was no time to wait around. Again Izuku lunged at her. She could barely raise her scimitar to block – and it was less a block and more of a

It was like fighting Gloin all over again... except his opponent couldn't hold a candle to the veteran dwarf in the dueling department. She was not too well-trained or too experienced in the business of fighting in the melee. Then again, neither was Izuku.

But he was stronger than she was. His next blow batted her parry aside and forced her a step backwards.

Faster. Her counterattack barely glanced his shoulder, tearing the fabrics.

More steadfast. Her next slice fell on his shield, like begging him to bash her in the face. Which he complied, and sent her stumbling backwards.

More determined. He ignored a bleeding graze on his shoulder, and swung his club arm in a full arc.

And most importantly...

"Midoriya! Midoriya!" rang the voices in his ears from behind the curtain of sand

I have people to protect.

The panting villainess howled, and threw everything at him with a lunge.

Except throwing everything you have at the opponent was Izuku's game to begin with.

"DU BEKAR!"

At once what he had exactly done escaped him: Izuku could only imagine it involved a full-body tackle and a swing as savage as a beast's thrashing. The pipe hit her on the gauntlet, ripping the blade from her grip. The villainess had no time to grunt: the bash-tackle tore her feet off the ground and hurled her like a spinning-top hurtling at the opposite wall, right through the sandstorm of her own making.

There was a huge crash: her armored form left a cracking dent on the wall as she slid on the ground in a pile. The sandstorm about them dissipated all at once, leaving the floor covered in a few inches of fine grains.

Izuku was struggling to stand up now, black and blue and bleeding all over. But the sound of footsteps behind him emboldened his spirit and soothed his pain: My friends are all right, it spoke to him, and that was all that mattered. So he dragged himself before the downed villainess, and pointed his makeshift mace in her face.

"Give up!" he cried. "I... I don't want to hurt any of you!"

The villainess stirred. "You... don't want? You don't... want?" she cried"But we-we need to hurt you... brats."

She clenched her fist. All at once all the sand in the room flowed back into her in a twister.

"Long as I... drain the sands.. out of just... one of you..."

Her eyes turned wild like a dying beast, just for a blink of an eye... and a torrent of sand went hurtling towards the shattered window.

The very shattered window that Uraraka was standing in front of.

"WATCH OUT!"

Izuku was too late. Hardly had he thrown himself towards her than the torrent hit home.

"URARAKA!"

His hand reached out – two inches, one, half an inch...

But the torrent was relentless.

Izuku didn't know what happened first: his hand catching Uraraka's...

… or the both of them being blown tumbling through the open window.

"Mission... accomplished."

It had all begun with an innocuous "help me".

A child who had cried "help me" because he had been lost. Because six years had been too small for crushed dreams, broken pedestals and friends who didn't need him no more. Because "Can I become a hero too?" was a dreadful question to a mother so caring, for which she had had no answer. Because within that tiny palm held a dream so noble, so lofty, so beyond his reach as to be tragic.

A grown Man who had cried "help me" because he had been lost too. Because forty-four years was not nearly enough to conquer loneliness and loss of loved ones. Because in him there was a Took and a Baggins, and the two hadn't been overly fond of each other. Because deep beneath the shell of a respectable gentry, there was a Man desperately looking for his own purpose in life, for which maps and tales of old barely sufficed.

There was a dormant toe joint that had screamed out, and a greater power who had responded.

And now it happened again: A child who cried "help me", and a grown Man who cried "help me". Except this time it was no longer just about them, but about those they wished to protect.

And the multiverse answered.

Haze filled Bilbo's eyes, like a great cloak of fog. He was sure he had caught Ori's hand just before impact, and then the luck and reflex of the little folk and the water beneath would have done the rest, right? Right?

But there was no water where he landed. Neither was there a limb-shattering crunch. His feet touched the ground light as feather.

The light of dusk was flaring into his eyes. In fact, it seemed like he had just fallen into a blink of a nap and then woken up.

In his Big-Folk sized hand was now a very feminine-looking palm beneath a very feminine curtain of brown hair.

"Master Baggins?"

Haze filled Izuku's eyes, like a great cloak of fog. He was sure he'd caught Uraraka's hands... and then she would have floated them both, right? Right?

Like he thought, there was no impact. There was no ground either, but a mighty splash of water. Not a very graceful landing, yet altogether adequate.

There was no light about him but for the blurry glint off what seemed to be waist-level water. In fact, it seemed like he had just fallen into a blink of a nap and then woken up.

In his hobbit-sized hand was a rugged, callussed, stone-like palm beneath a messy mass of brown mane and beard.

"M-Midoriya?"

Notes and Fanon:

- Aaaand... the moment of truth! Izuku and Bilbo are FINALLY no longer the only person to switch world!
- The chapter's title is an allusion to the anime that inspired this crossover in the first place, Kimi no Na wa (Your Name). In said anime, the term musubi refers to both knots and serendipity, and is something of an Arc Word.
- For the sake of this chapter I've had to improvise an OC villain. This is her profile and ability:

Name: Kuriba Airan (九里波哀乱 - "Nine", "Mile", "Squall", "Sorrow", "Chaos"). Also a pun: "Iran Cliba(nari)" - since she envisions herself something of a Pahlavan Cataphract.

Villain name: Windswept Azadan. As in the Iranian noble cavalry (Asavaran-i-Azadan).

Quirk: Sandstorm – She can create a whirlwind of sand and gravel from immediate material in the surrounding, forming a defensive circle around herself and her allies that is virtually impenetrable by most ranged attacks. She can also direct sand twisters as a means to attack. However, all of her attacks has a crippling minimum range, so if/when someone breaks through she would have to defend herself with a scimitar.

Responses to Reviews:

As per always, a big thank-you to everyone who's taken the time and effort to review my work!

This goes to Kablsi: As a matter of fact, I don't really put too much weight into the shipping side of things. It also (doesn't) help that Izuku is by nature a very shippable character because of his extremely likeable personality. Even in my story you can argue that I've provided the foundation for at least four ships: IzuOcha, Meizuku, Bakudeku... and ORIZUKU. All of this goes to say that I'm not putting shipping at the forefront of anything, but there's a possibility this might change in the future, so watch this space!