Momo knew something was wrong on the following Monday.

The wound on her arm which she had received during the evacuation efforts was itching. She had arrived at U.A. approximately three hours before she had to, just to make sure she would not be late. Iida had been there as well, and Aizawa-sensei, who was still taking care of the gate duty, looked absolutely at ease in his sleeping bag as he half-blocked the way and waved people in.

It was when one hour before the start of the first exam, the time which Izuku had said he'd be at school, he wasn't there.

Izuku was never late. This was how she knew something must have happened. She sent him a text, asking where he was, then sat down at her chair again.

Thirty minutes later the entire class was present. Even Shinso, who looked like he might be late for homeroom some days, came on time. That one chair where Izuku sat remained empty.

"Where's Midoriya?" Iida asked. His earlier fumbling with some last minute studying had distracted him too much. The rest of the class also noted the boy being gone.

"I don't know," Momo said, frowning. "I texted him but he didn't answer, you don't think something happened, right?"

She really hoped not. She knew he had a habit of getting into trouble, but she trusted him not to push himself into another situation like with the yakuza. She saw Uraraka and Iida both pull out their phones and text him as well.

It was five minutes before the exam would start that she decided to walk out. She could catch Aizawa-sensei on the way to the classroom and—

Her phone rang.

Rather, it vibrated. She pulled it out so fast it nearly fell out of her hands. The message arrived and something came back. She opened the message app.

Momo nearly dropped the phone again. The image was clear. Himiko Toga took a rather unflattering picture from an awkward angle using Izuku's phone, framing both said boy, who was chained up behind her, and her absolutely manic grin.

Under it was the addition of a map with coordinates. An alley, not too far from here.

'Come play' the message under it read. Aizawa-sensei walked through the door. She wasn't stupid of course. But she was desperate. 'You have three minutes'.

She used her quirk to make a small device. A blip on the radar. Something she had practiced to make to connect to her phone so she could track people down.

Pushing the device into her pocket, she threw her phone at AIzawa. He dropped the exams, catching it in one hand and glaring at her.

"Yaoyorozu," he said, his voice tight. "What's the meaning—"

She was already out of the window.

And landed with a loud crash, the earth around her cracking and leaving nothing but a crater.

Momo ran, first to the gym where she was allowed to stash her weapon—

Izuku woke up chained.

His swords were there, in the corner of the strange room he had found himself in. It wasn't quite deranged and cold enough to call it a torture chamber, and yet it wasn't quite cozy and warm enough to call it a bedroom.

It looked exactly how he imagined Himiko Toga's room to look like. Instruments of pain hung near the wall, some of them stained in dried blood and some of them clumsily wiped with blood that had yet to dry. His arms were tied above him. Around his neck was—

A collar?

Not a simple one. It pressed down at a specific angle, keeping just enough pressure on his windpipe to turn breathing into one of the most painful things he had ever done. It was good that Izuku was used to pain, but the Breath was not so easily achieved in this state.

Himiko Toga knew.

Of course she knew. She was taught by a villain so old and powerful to have hurt All Might and turned him into a husk. If someone of that age wasn't aware of the Demon Slayers, he would be surprised.

And even if not, if, as Tenko had theorized, his father had joined up with said villains, the knowledge of the Ubuyashiki family was in his hands already.

Nevertheless, he would have to try. He breathed.

And with it came pain.

Unimaginable, unyielding pain. He was undaunted, he kept going. He heard screams—

Screams?

His ears twitched. He tried to listen. It sounded distant, yet so close. As if the room was made to hide what was going on outside.

It sounded like the clashing of metal. Screams of pain. Squeals of laughter. He recognized the voices.

Momo ran. She probably hasn't ever run this fast. She leaped distances that left her sick in the stomach, she slammed onto rooftops and left them crumbling. She ended up in that alley with one and a half minutes to spare.

In that alley was a man dressed up like a bartender. His head was nothing but a black fog. The same kind of strange essence that had once split them up.

His voice came with a strange echo. "Momo Yaoyorozu."

"Yes," she said, almost breathless. He nodded. When his body twisted into a large shadow, she flinched back. When it became a round portal, she felt for the gps tracker in her pocket.

With a deep breath, she stepped in.

The area was… a warehouse of sorts. A repurposed, abandoned place that smelled of blood and dead things. It was half rotting, half furbished. It looked exactly how Momo had imagined a place owned by Himiko Toga to look. There was even a TV, which looked to be about the most expensive thing in this place.

And she just stood there. In front of a door that looked more like it was protecting money than a room where she was keeping him.

She was smiling, of course. Himiko Toga always smiled. She smiled more than All Might, Momo imagined. That self-satisfied, psychotic and absolutely deranged grin that spoke of so much pain she had enjoyed causing people.

The axe was already in flight. Himiko bowed sharply, like in greeting, and the axe bounced off the door. Quickly pulling it back, Momo used her quirk to create another chain which she wrapped around her weapon, extending her reach until the flail and axe combo was carving a path through the rooftop.

Himiko made her move.

She rushed forward, dancing around the falling weapon with the grace of a praying mantis devouring its partner. The jagged knives in her hands briefly touched the ground as she crouched and launched herself forward.

The flail that hit her in the back sent her sprawling. Not quite a hit solid enough to incapacitate, however, as whatever strange thing she had done to her body would no doubt keep her going longer than any normal person should.

"You're really kind," Himiko said, her eyes crinkling in joy. "Is that what he likes? Being really kind? I can be the kindest girl."

That emphasis on the word came with two knives flying at her. Momo was able to block the first with her chain.

The second one hit her in the arm. It got stuck on bone, not deep enough to stay lodged, but still deep enough to cause a ridiculous amount of pain as it fell out, the jagged edges taking bits of flesh with them.

Himiko's face shifted into that of an older man. The ground under her went wet and unstable. The tremors she used to feel for the right approach were unavailable. She jumped when Himiko had closed the gap through black sludge.

Momo's jump was high, but Himiko easily met it. Her face shifted once more. Dabi, she recognized. Blue flames came from her palms and slammed into her chest. Momo closed her eyes and ears, letting go of the weapon.

From the opening in her uniform came a flashbang.

It exploded. The heat of it probably burned her worse than Dabi's flames did, but Himiko herself tumbled towards the ground with no recourse.

Momo opened her eyes, ignoring the stinging pain all over her body, and prepared for the crash.

She aimed her knees at Himiko as they both went down. Before Toga had time to dodge, Momo crashed into her like a meteor, driving her into the ground. For the first time, it was something other than laughter and joy. Himiko gasped for air.

Momo raised her fist.

But someone grabbed it. She looked back. The same slender fingers. The same psychotic grin. A second Himiko, right behind her, and in her other hand a knife pressed deeply into her shoulder. Aimed so it would not bleed her too fast.

Aimed to cause the most amount of pain possible. She twisted it.

Momo screamed. The Toga under her raised her own knife once the blindness had worn off.

Himiko Toga was fighting Momo. Izuku struggled more against the chains. More against the collar. He breathed. He breathed and breathed and breathed. The collar did not budge. It did not snap, it did not even loosen lightly as his neck was pushing against it with every breath he took.

One last scream.

One last push.

It didn't work. He was sure his face was blue by now. His hands certainly were. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even make a sound anymore. The door made a noise. Unlocking. Clicking.

Then it opened slowly. Himiko walked in. Her hands were stained red. Her eyes twinkled with an untold joy. Izuku followed the blood and found it wrapped around a chain.

A very familiar chain of a weapon that would be too heavy for most people to lift. She pulled on it as she walked into the room, dragging a body with her. It took a moment to recognize her.

How could he? She looked broken. She was practically surrounded by a layer of blood, to the point her usual wild black hair was lying flat against her scalp. Her eyes were half-lidded. Trying to stay conscious, looking for something that she could no longer see.

Her body had been carved up. Wounds so deep and wide that Izuku could see her heartbeat from the life that was spilling out of them.

Izuku did not breathe.

He roared.

He roared the prayer of a grieving and furious god.

His fist crashed into Himiko Toga's face with a force that would have shattered mountains. On her, it knocked fangs out and sent her rolling onto the bloodstained ground, painting her clothes more and more in the colors of Momo's blood.

He hadn't even noticed that the chains around his wrists had shattered. He hadn't noticed how he had drawn the sword that was sitting in the corner of the room.

He hadn't even realized just how much of a mess he was in. Right now, only one thing mattered, and it was in front of him, grinning at him with two broken front teeth bleeding profusely.

"I did it," Himiko said, singing the words as she danced on one leg, spinning around with her knives in hand. "I proved I'm better, you can break up with her~"

Izuku took a step forward. Within a blink, he was behind her. He swung the sword around. One hundred eighty degrees. She dodged. Her crouch was enough to get under the swing that was aimed slightly at the ground. Though it did not touch it, blood and debris were sent into the air as it was carved through by the sheer force of the attack.

Himiko tried to stab upwards.

He kicked her. The knee slammed into her face, breaking her nose and sending her stumbling onto her back. The knife still hit, cutting into his leg. He raised it, then stomped down on her arm.

With a single swing, the arm was severed.

Himiko did not scream. She did not wail. Himiko Toga was more like a demon than the demons he had met. She laughed, enjoying the bloodshed with every bit of her body. She shivered as she rolled away from under him, jumping and flipping through the air before landing on her feet.

Her arm was nothing more than a stump now. It had been cut from right above her elbow, so clean that a master at their craft would fall to their knees in envy. She looked so unconcerned by it. Her smile never once wavered, and when the arm was unusable, she simply used her teeth to hold another knife.

They clashed. The collar around his neck snapped. Every time his sword met her strangely durable knives, sparks exploded outwards. Every swing painted his sword crimson. Every attack blocked brought them one step closer to salvation.

Toga's face shifted. Too slow. Izuku cut upwards, the tip of the blade tearing bone apart at her chin as she tried to move backwards. Her body shifted along with it. The face of the Shield hero who had stopped her explosion. A massive shield blocked the mourning prayer.

It shattered.

Another shield came up before Kagutsuchi's Burden could carve her other arm off. Harder. Heavier. Sturdier than he could cut, but his sword still carved its mark into it.

"Hey, hey Izuku," Himiko said from behind the shield. Something behind him moved. "Are you mad?"

Izuku turned around and cut. A Himiko who still had two arms was cut into two. The lack of a heartbeat was enough to tip him off. She fell apart into nothing. The effect of some quirk. Himiko jumped at him, driving the shield into his back and pushing.

He would not budge.

His hands were stained crimson as well, like a mirror to her, but not in the blood of the girl whom he had grown so fond of.

It was red with some sort of mark. It followed his hands, painting over the scars and reaching all over his arms and licked up his neck.

Izuku breathed.

And from that breath came eight million prayers.

"Eighth Form," Izuku announced. The sword in his hands vibrated with each of his tremors. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose dripping. His mouth was releasing steam like he had imagined it would years ago when he was still hoping to inherit his father's quirk. "Countless Gods."

The sword whipped down.

It made the noise of sixteen million hands joining together in prayer.

The world around him shattered. The hideout cracked, the ground ripping itself to shreds and the debris flying upwards.

She had to dodge it, but there was no way to dodge. She could try to block it, but her single arm bent inwards from the first strike. The gods carved into her, fist after fist slammed into her body and sent her backwards, bruising and breaking whatever they could find until she finally hit the wall.

And then they didn't stop.

Izuku was no longer breathing.

In fact, he could not hear his own heartbeat anymore.

All he heard were eight million prayers. A continuous cutting motion. A divine right.

The sword lashed out. In the motion of a butterfly, it fluttered slowly and ripped the world to shreds on the other side of the planet. Himiko Toga was smiling that stupid, half-toothed, bloodied and painful grin.

It slammed her into the wall until the wall was nothing but dust. It punched her into the ground until the ground was nothing.

"Kill me," she demanded, her broken teeth and bloodied face slurring her speech. "Kill me so you'll always remember me. Make me the number one in your heart, Izuku!"

Izuku would have.

He absolutely would have in that single moment.

His sword was raised to do it, but something in him screamed to get out of the way. He jumped back, until his back touched the other side of the room. Despite not making an attack, the man who had stepped out of the shadows gave off an aura that Izuku could hear.

It screamed at him to get away.

But he couldn't.

Despite the haze of fury, Izuku turned his head. His eyes found Momo's broken form. Bloodied. Bent. Breathing.

She was still breathing.

He had to save her.

"An impressive display," the man said. He raised his hand. Himiko's own broken form flew towards him. She looked out of it, likely from the concussion he had given her, or perhaps the ridiculous amount of internal bleeding that no normal human should be able to survive. "But I'm afraid our time here has come to an end."

"My father," Izuku said. He couldn't recognize his own voice anymore. "His research. I will burn it all down."

The man hesitated for a short beat. A single instance where Izuku could see that he was thinking about the words and taking them as seriously as was appropriate for them.

"We need not be enemies." The man stretched his arm out. His hand was gloved, but Izuku could see scars at his wrist that likely went down to his fingers. "I can save her, too. Join me, and you will never have to suffer the fear of those you love being hurt."

"If I join the likes of you, I may as well cut my stomach open right here," Izuku said. He moved slowly to the left, ready to leap to Momo and pick her up, but the man's hand twitched. It glowed. Izuku stopped before the ground between him and Momo was carved asunder, not unlike his own sword had done earlier.

Izuku shivered. This wasn't a fight he could win. Toga was making strange sing-song noises as she struggled under the man's arm.

It was then salvation came.

A hero crashed through the ceiling.

The hero crashed through the ceiling.

He landed with one of the classics, the three point landing crushing the earth around him and leaving nothing but a crater. "All For One."

It took a moment for Izuku to realize he was addressing the villain. The… the monster.

"I suppose my student has been overeager," the man said. His voice echoed, not due to the strange helmet he had on, but from some quirk effect that said 'listen when I speak'. Himiko was tucked under his arm, her head upside down as she grinned at Izuku, still bleeding from the stumps that were her arms and legs. "Perhaps the same can be said about yours, All Might."

All Might's furious glare would have made any other villain run in fear. The man, All For One, simply raised his head as if looking down on them through an eyeless face.

"We can fight each other to the death," All For One said. "Or you can keep those students of yours alive."

For a moment, Izuku had realized, All Might was considering it.

For just a single moment, that heroic ghost flickered and was replaced by a bloodthirsty puppet, hellbent on defeating his ultimate enemy.

For a single breath, Izuku could see in All Might what he was feeling in himself whenever his thoughts strayed to Momo dying. She was alive, just barely, they had to get out.

After that single breath, All Might turned around and grabbed Momo in a soft hold, picked Izuku up with a single hand, and leaped.

A jump so powerful, Izuku saw the weather change.

Darkness took him.

Izuku found himself at a home.

It was not a large home, but it was not very small either. It was a happy home. He found himself sitting with an old man, whose eyes had gone white and half blind, visible even from the side view that Izuku had of them. They sat on the terrace. Tea was between them, two cups, one for each of them.

The old man had markings over his face. Izuku noted his hands carried much the same. A different pattern, a different location, but the energy felt entirely familiar.

At his side was a jet black sword.

"The countless gods," Yoriichi Tsugikuni spoke with a soft voice. Almost bored. Lost and forlorn. "Perhaps it would not do to admonish you for grandstanding considering your thoughts when you named that technique."

Izuku said nothing. His expression was blank. Not unlike Yoriichi's. Yet there was a noticeable difference between them. Where Yoriichi's expression had a hint of something akin to a nostalgic memory, Izuku's gave away nothing.

He had failed to burn brighter than the sun.

Instead, his body ran cold.

So cold his breath became visible.

So cold that the tea in the cup he had raised to his mouth had frozen and it began to shatter in his trembling fingers.

"I've failed," Izuku said. "I lost myself in anger. She's gone."

"You should have taken her and ran, yes," Yoriichi said. Izuku did not flinch as he usually would. Instead, his distant gaze moved onto the man's face. "You're passionate, to a fault. Your blood boils hot in the heat of battle. Your eyes cloud over in anger easily."

"I know," Izuku said. He shivered. Cold air licked up and down his skin and dug deeper until it found bone. "I'm unfit."

"Are you?" Yoriichi asked, raising an eyebrow. The first expression the man gave away.

"I'm a coward, so I can't be a Slayer," Izuku said, frowning. It was the first emotion he had been able to show. "I have cruel thoughts about my family, so I cannot be a good son. I… have failed to save her. I cannot be a hero."

"You're right, someone like you will never live up to those ideals," Yoriichi's voice cut deep. Izuku simply nodded. "Neither did I. Neither did any of my students. I would argue that not one person in the history of this bloodstained world has done so."

Izuku looked up once more to meet the gaze of the old man. His wrinkles were deep. His eyelids were heavy set, barely open.

"Nobody is perfect, Kagura," the man said. He did not reach out with a sword. His thin and wrinkled hand touched his cheek like a father would touch that of his child. "But instead of wallowing in the misery of your mistakes, you have to look ahead to see the potential of the future. If you cower in fear from your duty, take one step against it and become brave."

His other hand came up, cupping Izuku's face. He smiled. A smile so radiant Izuku felt the heat of the sun from it. A grandfather's smile.

"If you have cruel thoughts about those who hurt you, forgive one bad deed a day until you find yourself becoming kinder to them."

Yoriichi let go of his face, standing up. He struggled, but as Izuku quickly stood to help him up, the man raised his hand.

And put it on Izuku's head.

"And if you cannot save a person, Izuku," Yoriichi continued, "then create a world in which nobody has to be saved."

It was warm. His hand was warm, like the first touch of warm sunlight after a harsh winter.

Chapter 28, upcoming:

Dance of Countless Gods

Izuku touched her arm with trembling hands. The devices stuck in her body kept her breathing and her heart beating. He could see her parents outside, talking to the doctor. He could hear All Might in the bathroom of the hospital, heaving and deflating, hollowed out.

She would heal. Eventually, she would heal.

His still trembling fingers reached for his phone.

Countless Gods (Yaoyorozu no Kami)