AN: I know I said I would be updating my other fic before this, but I didn't want to leave you with that cliffhanger for too long.

Izuku crashed down on the roof much rougher than he would have liked, but when he angled his head upwards, he was greeted by the proud and blinding smile of All Might.

"Very impressive, young Midoriya! You really left your classmates in the dust."

Surprised, Izuku bent his head over his shoulder to see the other students still struggling to catch up. Sero was the closest, but he still had about a quarter of the obstacle course left before the finish line.

"Ah… I didn't even notice," he muttered, and All Might laughed heartily. Then, before Sero could join them, the hero leaned in and spoke quietly.

"Come meet me in my office after this lesson ends. There's something important I need to talk to you about."

Izuku froze. Important? His head filled with thousand different ideas of what that could mean, and none of them pleasant. But there was one thought that stood out more than the rest; a terrible, terrible thing that couldn't happen. It flooded his stomach with enough anxiety that Izuku wouldn't be surprised if it burst right open, like a balloon with too much air.

For the rest of that day, all the way until Izuku entered All Might office, the sound of his feet hitting the floor rang through his head like a death knell. He was walking to his own execution, and all he wanted to do was to run away. His guts felt like they were crawling with bugs, and the only consolation was the mantra in his head promising him everything would be alright.

It will be fine, it sounded, over and over again until he could almost believe it. His head pounded in tact with his beating heart, and he watched helplessly as his hand pulled towards the door handle that would take him to his death. He felt possessed, his body moving all on its own and he just wanted to scream—to pull away and just run, run and run until his legs gave out under him, never to return.

But he didn't.

The door clicked open.

"I can't die."

To be honest, Izuku wasn't sure what kind of reaction he expected from that statement. Perhaps it was for Dr. Kyuusai to give him a look that said he had lost his mind, but then again, such outlandish claims must be nothing new in her profession. Maybe he expected her to look at him with pity, pity for the poor boy who can't tell fantasy from reality.

(And he wondered, if any of her other patients had ever claimed to be immortal. And he wondered, how many of those were speaking the truth.)

But whatever he might had been expecting, it didn't come. When he looked into Dr. Kyuusai's deep blue eyes, there was no pity. No sadness or confusion or whatever other emotion one could possibly expect; her gaze was impressively neutral as she added something new to her little notebook, before putting it down in her lap and observing him with a face that never betrayed a thought.

"You can't die?" she repeated, lacing her fingers together over lined sheets of paper. From the way she phrased her question, you would normally expect a tone of scepticism or condescension. But all he found was a quiet curiosity, asking him to elaborate.

Stray thoughts from earlier was still crammed into his head, swirling through it at double speed like an icy blizzard, but he felt surprisingly calm as he mulled over his options. He knew that from now on, he was playing a careful game of truths and omissions. He needed to choose his words carefully, phrasing his sentences in a way that wouldn't set the doctor's alarm bells ringing.

I can't die, he chanted. I can't die—because when I do, I just come back.

But he couldn't tell her that. Never mind the fact she would think he was insane, she might deem him a danger to himself.

"Please," Uraraka's voice echoed in his head, voice cracking at the last octave as she pleaded for his sake.

But I can't lie either.

He needed to thread carefully; one misplaced word could mean a trip to the psych ward. He couldn't let that happen, he refused to let that happen. Gods knew his friends worried about him enough as it was. But—he filled his lungs with a mouthful of air, feeling his heart rate slow, until all he knew was still placidity. It would be fine. He would be fine—because even if he messed up, even if he said the wrong thing, even if if if… He would always have his fail safe. He just had to keep trying, until he got it just right. There was nothing he couldn't fix.

"It's my quirk," he began. It was an oddly neutral statement, but one that also opened a whole new can of questions simultaneously. He knew what his official quirk registration papers said, but he didn't know if his therapist had access to it as well. Still, admitting that he possessed two quirks rather than coming up with some amazing lie as to how he obtained the magical power of immortality, the choice was obvious. Besides, it wasn't like she could force any information about One for All out of him.

It will be fine.

"It prevents me from dying. Or rather—it won't let me stay dead," it was a risky move on his part, to admit that he had, in fact, died at least once before. But it wasn't incriminating enough to force Dr. Kyuusai to breach his right of confidentiality. "No one knows about this power aside from me, and I'm not planning on telling anyone either."

Kyuusai hummed, tapping a long nail against the side of her mechanical pencil. "I can understand why you would want keep something like that to yourself," she hummed, before her impassive expression took on a more serious note. "It can't have been a pleasant experience when you first discovered it. Your survival was left to a game of luck, and if not for your quirk you would have been dead right now. It must be frightening."

"It is," Izuku nodded. He leaned in closer to the doctor, his voice dropping a few decibels as if he was afraid someone might overhear. "Everytime I die I wonder, 'Is this the end?' I don't know if there's a limit to how many times my quirk work, or if there are any conditions I need to meet to activate it that I don't know about, but have been lucky to fulfill thus far. Yet, before I even have time to finish my thought, I'm back. But you know what is the most frightening of it all?"

Dr. Kyuusai said nothing, waiting for him to give the answer to his own question.

"It's not knowing if this will ever end. If I will continue to live like this forever, because my quirk won't let me die."

Izuku belatedly realized that every part of his body had broken out in violent trembles, and the only air that could enter his lungs were from the quick, gasping breaths he so desperately took. He felt so calm earlier, he never even noticed how worked up he'd became. And yet, he couldn't find it in himself to regret his words. It felt good; finally allowing his feelings and thoughts spill free without needing to spare a thought to how this would affect the people around him. The woman observing him had moved from tapping her pencil to the block of lined paper resting under her palms, and she asked,

"Do you want to die?"

Now that was a loaded question, wasn't it? But Izuku spent a surprisingly little amount of time to come up with the answer. Because as confusing as his never ending hurricane of mixing emotions and conflicting thoughts could be, it was clear as day.

"No."

And it was the truth. No matter the dark, miserable places his thoughts oh-so often found themselves in—no matter the pain and fear and anger that was forced into his brain, he knew. Even if there was times when he just wanted to stop existing all together, he knew.

Because the thought of dying was terrifying. To think of that one second of darkness that always preceded any of his resets sent frozen spikes of all consuming fear through his spine, impaling his heart and lungs and spreading throughout his body like cold tendrils of pure dread.

For all he acted like it didn't matter anymore, he didn't want to die. Perhaps if you asked him the same question a few months earlier, the answer might have been yes. But not now; not when he'd met such fantastic people; people that believed in him, people who wanted him around. And not now, when he'd seen those same people die, for no reason other than to satisfy some sick fucker and his twisted ideals.

He caught a glimpse of Dr. Kyuusai scratching something down in her notebook as he snapped back into reality. Finishing up with a flick of her wrist, her free hand landed on the round table top separating the two, palm up and waiting. Izuku was confused for all but one second, before she explained.

"My quirk is called Empathy. It contains two components: the first being that I emit a constant aura of receptivity, which you may or may not have noticed. I'm unable to turn it off, but it's useful for making my patients comfortable and allows them to open up more easily.

"The second component is a bit more invasive, which is why I will ask for your permission before I use it. If I touch someone and focus, I can feel their emotions as if they were my own. I can't read your mind, and you won't notice a thing. But it will help me gain a deeper understanding of your feelings, and I have found it very useful for aiding patients in the past. Some emotions just cannot be put into words, but if you'd let me, you won't have to try."

Izuku's fingers twitched out of habit, and he was overcome with a strong desire to write down everything she just told him. Feeling somewhat uncertain, he asked, "Um, so how does it work exactly? You just feel what I do right now?"

"Try to think of all the things that bothers you. When you're ready, place your hand in mine. If that makes you uncomfortable, I could touch your arm or head instead. I know some patients prefer that. So long as skin contact is made, no matter how little, my quirk can be activated."

"Ah, no, that's alright," Izuku waved his arms dismissively. Then, he considered what she just told him. Think of what bothers him? That's a very broad category. There's so many things, and not all of which stems from his quirk. Old memories from his days before he entered U.A. emerged unbidden, with burning words and fists and a quirk specialist telling his mother that her son was probably quirkless. And if he wasn't, he might as well be.

A leap of faith.

But that's not why he was here. Those were old problems for another day; it could wait.

It will be fine.

He thought of U.A.'s entrance exam. It was the first time he'd ever seen another person die, but it was so long ago now, he couldn't even remember what it felt like. He thought of the USJ, and how he thought it would never end. Just an endless cycle of death and tears, for the rest of eternity. He thought of Stain, of the anger that took form inside of him like an uncontrollable creature, its ugly black silhouette suspiciously similar to that of the winged noumu he'd threatened to mutilate.

And he thought of Uraraka. Of Iida, of All Might, and even of Todoroki. One by one, his classmates and teachers scrolled across his retinas, before coming to a stop at the last person. She stared at him with big, tearful eyes and sobbed.

"Izuku."

And oh, how many times had he heard his mom cry like that? As years passed, the word began to lose its meaning, until it was more of a sob than a proper name. Just hearing it once was had been one time too much, and he would do anything he possibly could to never hear it again.

All these thoughts, all the things he had felt since he realized his hidden power, he summoned to the front of his mind. With a newfound determination, he put his hand in Dr. Kyuusai's, nodding in confirmation. "I'm ready."

She returned his gesture, and her eyes slipped closed as her facial muscles scrunched up in a look of deep concentration. But not even a second passed, before she pulled her hand away as if burnt. A hiss slipped through her teeth, and for the one instant their eyes met, Izuku saw a cold, deep horror reflecting of the dark blue of her irises. The next second it was gone, disappearing just as quickly as it came. Her face quickly schooled into a professional expression of indifference, while her hand returned to her lap as she straightened her back in some attempt of forced composure.

"Um—"

"I think I understand now," the doctor took a deep breath, and Izuku let his eyes travel down to land on the white knuckled grip of her mess of tangled fingers, curling around each other much too tight to look comfortable. They were shaking. "It's a good thing you're here, and it was very brave of you to allow me a glimpse of your emotions. I'm not going to mince words; there are a lot of things we need to work on. And while I have a feeling you may not believe me, Midoriya-san—" she paused, and slowly, her fingers begun to relax. "You're not beyond hope. And I promise—you aren't going to feel like this forever."

Izuku didn't want to believe his trust had been betrayed but, in all of that, did he make a mistake? Was it something he said, or something she felt?

Should he have reset after all?

Was it still too late?

"Young Midoriya."

Izuku jumped when he heard the familiar voice calling for him. And there he was, the skeleton form of All Might waiting for him in all his glory. His executioner. And there was no more time for speculation or theorizing, because whatever came, came.

"All Might," he returned as he made for an empty chair, dragging every step out for as long as possible, eyes glued to the hero already seated in front of him. Too soon, he reached his destination, his teacher leisurely crossing his long fingers over each other, one after the other. A heavy atmosphere fell over the room, and pin pricks of sweat dampened the back of Izuku's neck as he awaited his verdict. And then, just as he thought he was going to go insane from anticipation, All Might spoke.

"It's time I told you about All for One."

AN: You know, sometimes I wonder if I'm making Izuku too dramatic. Then I look back at all the shit I've put him through and think, maybe not.

Also, I would like to ask, because this has been bothering me a while, but do you think my writing have gotten better or worse? Neither? I dunno, I'm just worried my writing is actually getting worse as I progress, but that might just be me being overly critical. If you think it's gotten worse, I would appreciate it if you'd tell me why, so I can hopefully fix it.