It was not just one person tonight, but two.
A man and a woman, sitting together. They were leaning into each other, the woman's head on the man's shoulders.
It was funny just how much like opposites they looked. Black hair on the man, white hair on the woman. The man had a pleasant smile on his face, the kind of content smile that could be compared to a soldier who had fulfilled his duty. The woman's face was unreadable, almost serene.
Izuku sat down next to them. It was another home, different from Yoriichi's. Bigger, like a mansion. In the distance Izuku could see the shades of hundreds of people swinging swords, training for a battle that would one day come.
"He doesn't look like us at all," the woman said. She hadn't turned her head at all, but somehow Izuku could still feel her eyes on him.
"Centuries, my dearest," the man said. "Centuries can change the face of the land. Could they not change the face of our blood?"
Izuku knew them.
He had seen a photograph, but not of them specifically. Of their child, with all of the slayers.
"Ubuyashiki," Izuku said, blinking. "You're… them."
"I suppose that is our name, yes," the man said. "Though we are both Ubuyashiki, so perhaps it would be more appropriate to call us by our first names. Or perhaps you prefer 'grandfather' and 'grandmother'."
"Kagaya and Amane," the woman introduced them, pointing at her husband first and then at herself. "It seems that you have taken a difficult path, young Kagura."
"I'd say it chose me," Izuku said, putting his arms into his lap. He bowed. "It's an honor to meet you, Kagaya-sama."
"We fought and we bled nearly a hundred generations," Kagaya said. The man smiled. "And yet not one of our children had ever been healthy enough to pick up the sword. You're truly one of a kind, Kagura."
"Thank you for your kind words," Izuku said, his head still bowed.
Even in a dream, this man commanded respect. His lavender eyes were clear and shining, looking at him in great joy.
"Kagura," Kagaya said. "If you would be so kind, could you show me that mark?"
Izuku looked at his hands. The gloves did not join him in his dream. The uniform was on him, but the haori was missing. He nodded, slowly unbuttoning it.
He took off his shirt. He wasn't embarrassed about his body at all, but the stares of the couple made him feel conscious. The scars on his arms were no longer visible, but those on his chest from the surgery to get his lung working again were still glaringly obvious.
The mark was completely taking over his entire arms. It looked like his skin had turned crimson, uncanny and uncomfortable to look at. It followed all the way to his shoulders, where it split up and spiked up his neck.
It was like a full sleeve tattoo without imagery.
No, there was imagery.
It was blood, after all. Crimson stained blood. Of Momo, of Himiko Toga, of All Might.
Of the people that his father's research had killed.
"I have never seen one this large," Kagaya said. His eyes traced the lines up to his neck. "Then again, I suppose I haven't seen that many."
He laughed softly, like it was a joke only he understood. His wife looked annoyed by it, but didn't scold him for it. Rather, she nodded along.
"You know what it is."
"Duty," Izuku said. "A reminder not to fail."
"Nothing quite so grim," Amane said. "It is a reminder, yes. But a duty is only a duty if you are truly responsible for it."
Izuku was beckoned closer. Kagaya's hand reached out, like that of a blind man, but his eyes nonetheless followed Izuku's motions. When Izuku was close enough, Kagaya grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him towards him.
"You are our descendant," Kagaya said. The man's soft embrace reminded him of Yoriichi's. A man at the end of a long road. A smile so happy that it could melt ice. "You did well, Kagura Ubuyashiki."
Izuku frowned into the man's kimono, unwilling to struggle out of the grip of a man who had led the great organization of the Corps once upon a time. "That's not my name."
"It is here," he said, stroking Izuku's hair. "One name given, one name chosen. You're more than all of us. You're not your father, nor are you responsible for his actions. To defy him and stop his pursuit is not your duty, it is your choice. Tradition is important, Kagura. But much more important than that is making our own choices."
"Men make their own fate," Amane said, reaching out to cup Izuku's cheek. "You will be fantastic."
Izuku felt tired. Tired and content.
He closed his eyes, nodding as the warmth of his ancestors touched on him.
Izuku woke up with a start. These dreams were never comfortable. At this point he would prefer a dreamless night. He was lying in a bed in Nezuko's guest room. The one he usually used when he stayed here back when he was younger. There was another bed in the corner, where Eri slept when she didn't join Nezuko at night. It was empty.
He stood up to pain in his bones. It was early. Not early enough to go for his jog before he had to go to school. Perhaps he was more tired than he had initially thought. Standing up, he gathered up his clothes and uniform and went to shower. Nezuko was in the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast. A plate and a few dishes were still on the table, waiting for him.
"Good morning," Izuku said. She turned around, nodding at him.
"Good morning," she returned. "Did you sleep well?"
"Well enough," Izuku said. "I'll not be home after the exams, I have some stuff to take care of. Just so you don't worry."
Midterms were, in the end, shorter than the actual school days. Though usually hard enough to require rest afterwards, meaning he'd likely go back home and study were it any other occasion.
But after a quick glance on his phone, with a waiting text message from Tenko, he knew today was the day.
Nezuko nodded. Izuku went to shower quickly before breakfast.
When he stepped out, he found his mother still sleeping. As if to make up for all the times she hadn't slept in the past four years. She was lying in Nezuko's room on a futon, too uncomfortable to use an actual bed. She likely didn't want to take the couch, because Eri liked to watch TV in the mornings.
Izuku glanced towards the girl. She was sleeping on the couch, lazily with her legs hanging over the cushion and drooling onto it. The horn was small, as usual. Nezuko kept it from growing by having her use the quirk on her. The girl was afraid of it. She hated looking at it. Izuku supposed it was fair to do so, but the implication of Nezuko's attempts to cure her demonhood with it so she could become mortal again was painful.
Or perhaps not painful. Agonizing.
Eri's quirk might be powerful enough to heal someone eventually, but at this point in time, with no control, she likely couldn't. Or wouldn't. Eri hated her quirk as much as the horn mutation. It was something she would have to work through slowly, and something she seemed to get used to as Nezuko showed her own horn occasionally so she would.
The amount of energy stored in the horn was not measurable. What increased its size was seemingly random. A good night's sleep, a good meal, a good bit of swinging the sword around imitating Izuku's own moves from the Sports Festival as best as she could. Some days it grew faster, some slower, but always millimeters at a time.
Even then, he couldn't imagine dragging her along to heal someone to a hospital in the middle of nowhere with the yakuza still looking for them, as well as her own issues with infirmaries and the like.
If anything, one day when she had her power under control, she might be able to heal the scars at the very least.
"She's happy you're back," Nezuko said. "She thought you hated her."
"I don't." Izuku sighed. Of course she would think that.
"A child like her doesn't think," Nezuko reminded him. "She feels. A lot more than you think. Your worries become her worries, your avoidance becomes her pain."
"I didn't mean to," Izuku said. "I just needed some time to sort things through."
He sat down at the table. Nezuko had finished with the dishes, sitting down with a cup of tea, watching him eat.
"As I said, I understand," Nezuko said. "She doesn't, but will eventually."
She paused for a moment, taking a sip of tea.
"I'm sure she will forgive you if you bring her some gift or sweets," Nezuko said. Izuku almost smiled at the recommendation. "Are you prepared?"
"Yes," Izuku said. "I was never worried about studying, I'm not bad at it. It's the exam I missed that worries me-"
"Not about this," Nezuko said. She pointed at the gloves he was wearing. "About what you have to do today."
Izuku's hand stopped in motion, the rice falling off the chopsticks and back onto the bowl. He frowned, clenching his left hand into a fist under the table.
"I'm prepared," he said, nodding after a moment of quiet. "I'm just… going to ask a few questions. To find the answers I need. If I told you where to find him, would you stop him yourself?"
"I would," Nezuko said, nodding. "But somehow I have the feeling you're not going to let me now."
Now and then, it felt like a different time, despite the short months between that time she made him kill a demon and the day the mark awakened.
Now he knew that he had a duty. Like the Ubuyashiki's of old, who had to defeat Muzan to be cured of their curses, he had to make sure that this stain on history was snuffed in its bud.
Not him and him alone, of course.
But not Nezuko and Nezuko alone either.
"Whatever you have to do today, do it with kindness," Nezuko said. Izuku blinked, raising an eyebrow at her. "I won't tell you not to go, I am not your keeper. Your decisions are your own. But remember, Izuku, that there is a big difference in the things you feel you have to do and the things you actually have to do."
Izuku nodded. The cold rice on his tongue tasted like sand.
He took a deep breath. Slowly opening the door, he stepped into the classroom and found himself the target of every single person. Before he could raise his hand in greeting, Uraraka and Iida had already grabbed him, checking his limbs for injuries. Kirishima was up next, grabbing his shoulders and giving him a once over. Before too long, the entirety of Class 1-A had gathered around him.
"Are you alright, bro?" Kirishima asked. Izuku nodded silently, trying not to cower under the stern gaze of his sparring partner. "We heard about Momo but nobody told us about you, it's-"
Mina put her arm around Kirishima's neck and pulled him back. "You idiot, why'd you bring that up!"
"It's alright," Izuku said quickly, pulling his arms free from Iida's and Uraraka's strange checkup. "She's going to heal up just fine, I was told. And we all walk away with a few kickass scars, right?"
The words sounded hollow even to himself. The class' looks of pity were almost as painful as the sight of Momo on the bed, wrapped up in bandages. He looked away, unable to meet their gazes. Instead of being left alone, they crowded once more.
Uraraka gave him a hug. After a moment of hesitation, Iida joined in. Then Kirishima and Mina, then Tsuyu-
Izuku could've sworn he saw Todoroki look at the scene with a calculative gaze, as if checking whether it would be alright for him to join.
Unfortunately, in the ensuing ball of what he could only describe as a rare moment of class friendship, his sleeve had been pushed up. The sight of the crimson mark on his arm made Uraraka, who first saw it, gasp loudly. The ball dispersed, and Iida had grabbed his arm before he could hide it.
"What is this?" Iida asked. "A scar?"
"My quirk," Izuku lied smoothly. "When I fought Himiko Toga, it did that to my arm. I'm trying to hide it for a reason."
Playing to the bad memories of the fight was low, but Izuku couldn't mind the embarrassed face with a small blush on Iida's face as he let go, letting Izuku push the sleeve down again. Kirishima, as friendly as ever, grinned and punched his arm.
"That's really manly, though," Kirishima said. "Almost like a tattoo, isn't it? Or a really ominous birthmark from comics."
"Yeah," Izuku said, frowning as he grabbed his arm where Kirishima had hit him. "Just like that. Look, can we talk once the exams are over?"
The touching moment was interrupted when the door behind him was smashed open. All Might stood there, grinning at them with a stack of papers in his hands.
"Exam time," All Might said loudly.
Izuku turned around, looking the man in the eye. For a moment, it was not the stalwart Symbol of Peace standing there. The man in front of him was tall, thin and emasculated. A shell that built itself on the outside of a soft core. It sounded like an echo of tin metal every time he breathed.
"Thank you," Izuku said, finally having the mind to do so. All Might looked back at him. Really looked. His bright blue eyes peeked out from the shadow that hung over them, shining with something Izuku could not name.
"It's good to have you back, young Midoriya," All Might said, putting a hand on the boy's head as he passed him and started to hand out the sheets. "Young Yaoyorozu will be back soon enough, I'm sure."
"Yes," Izuku said, nodding. "She has a body as sturdy as her heart."
All Might smiled.
The rooftops of Shibuya. A sight that had become somewhat familiar to him was spreading under him. He was sitting hidden well enough, making sure no heroes would be able to see him, not that this would be an issue with his license.
Tenko had said to meet here, so he would meet him here. The first doctor with contacts to All For One, whose clinic was not far from Shibuya at all, could be easily found here. It would become more complicated if the doctor wasn't in this part of Japan, of course, but with Himiko Toga's condition it was more likely than not that he couldn't have traveled too far. Even the best long-range teleportation quirks could not reach too high of a distance.
After a few minutes of sitting alone, he heard it. The thuds of heavy boots. The clicking of metal against each other. The soft fabric of a makeshift mask. Izuku looked over to the left as someone scaled the wall with practiced motions.
It took all of his self control not to draw his blade. Stain walked forward, squatting at the edge of the building looking down. He said nothing, but it was clear that he was tense. His wounds he had seen not too long ago were all healed, though some still looked tender and some had scarred. The blade on his back was new, not yet chipped and blunted from overuse.
"It hits differently, doesn't it?" Stain said eventually. Izuku moved his gaze from the man towards the streets. "Using a Nichirin blade instead of a normal one. Like it's brimming with energy."
"Yes," Izuku said, pursing his lips. "I'm surprised you don't use one."
"I had one, long ago, passed down and maintained by my family. It's buried with them now."
"Not much of a chosen heir?" Izuku asked. Stain turned his head, giving him a dirty and wide grin. Izuku frowned. "No, I apologize. That wasn't appropriate of me."
The executioner's family was not responsible for what had become of him, not entirely. People make their own choices.
"Appropriate is the right word," Stain said. The man's voice betrayed nothing but disdain at the thought. "It felt inappropriate to use. Same as the Breath of Water. Same for you, isn't it?"
"No, not quite the same," Izuku said, shaking his head slowly. "My master said I was unsuited, but still skilled. I can use it as I see fit if I fight someone whom I otherwise can't defeat."
"A valiant idea," Stain said. "But switching Breaths in the middle of a fight is hell on your body." The man laughed again. "Take it from your senior, if you will."
"I know," Izuku said, adjusting the sword at his hip. "How do you know Tenko?"
"He once picked me out of a dumpster and sewed me shut when I was trying to keep my guts from spilling out," Stain said. Izuku rubbed the bridge of his nose. Of course. "You're his brother, huh? You don't look anything alike."
"Very funny," Izuku said, his voice flat. Raising his hands to the back of his head, he leaned back, staring up at the evening sky. Summer was always strange. There was no difference between midday and evening, the sun would set much later.
He always imagined things like this to be more like in movies. Heists in the dead of the night.
"Know anything about the mark?" Stain asked suddenly. Izuku shook his head. "Tenko's usually not that sparse with details. This doc's the number one underground surgeon on this side of Japan. Lost his license after people figured his quirk didn't just heal body parts but ripped them from a farm he had underground to repair damage. Never saw the inside of a cell, real piece of work that one."
"I think I heard about this case," Izuku said. It was long ago, when he was much younger. A mention on the TV.
"Last I heard a big yakuza lawyer bailed him out and he's been working with them ever since," Stain said. Izuku sat up, clenching a fist at the mention. "Next time you agree to shit like this tell Tenko to give you all the info beforehand. He has a habit of things slipping his mind."
"I'll remember that," Izuku said, his fists clenched in his lap. Perhaps Tenko hadn't told him because he knew Izuku would be overly eager to talk to that crowd. There was no way the group that experimented on Eri wasn't still looking for her. "We're here to talk, don't forget that. No matter what he did, I don't want to walk away with a corpse."
"You're the boss, I guess," Stain said. "But make no mistake, I'll find him and kill him anyway later. You're just delaying the inevitable. The law can't catch all of these scumbags."
Izuku glared at him, but did not speak up.
It would be bad to start a fight with a man who was, for the moment, his ostensible ally. Unkind and inauspicious as he was, Stain was competent and powerful. Izuku was sure that if he had a blade that didn't break so easily when used with the Breath of Blood, he would win fights a lot easier.
Even now Izuku couldn't say for sure that he would be able to match the man.
Izuku could hear the hum of the battlefield in the man's chest. It beat with an intensity he had only felt in All Might before as the man faced All For One.
The song of battle drummed along.
So they sat in silence for minutes longer, until it was time to move.
"Hey, Stain," Izuku called out. His phone was vibrating. Another message from Tenko. "I always thought you were a deranged murderer. To use the Breath styles which were used to kill demons and protect humans to kill humans, it felt like something decisively unethical."
"Any change on that front?" Stain asked. He didn't sound curious whatsoever, but his gaze still turned towards Izuku as he stood up properly, glaring down at the boy.
"No," Izuku said, shaking his head. Shrugging at him. "Not a chance. But I was curious."
"What about?" Stain asked. Izuku stood as well, following the man towards the back of the building. "If you want some advice about using a sword, I'd tell you not to because it's fucking poison."
"To be honest with you, back then," Izuku said, vaguely pointing at nothing as if it explained everything. He raised his hand, his index finger and thumb nearly touching. "I was this close to killing Himiko Toga. She did something that I felt I couldn't forgive."
"Yeah, she has that effect on people," Stain said. Izuku would ask later how he knew the girl. "So what's the question?"
"Was there someone like that for you?" Izuku asked. Stain stopped at the edge of the building. A car was rolling up. "Someone you couldn't forgive, who made the first cut and made every other cut easier?"
"My father," Stain began, "he taught me how to swing a sword until I bled. When I learned how to do that, he made me continue until I passed out. I ain't no hero. I ain't no vigilante either. I'm just a villain who kills other villains, there's nothing more to it."
Izuku heard the lie on his tongue and said nothing.
They tipped over the edge and landed on the car. Stain's new sword cut the roof out with a single breath.
Chapter 30, upcoming:
The Seventh Form
"You took something from me. Something that no amount of money or blood would be able to repay."
The man's hands twitched. The world around them turned into a hellhole of spikes and other danger. Izuku dodged one that was aimed at his heart, and cut through another. Stain was already on the man, ready to cut his throat.
"Left!" Izuku shouted. Stain stabbed the ground instead, dodging to the left as the hand nearly touched him.
Stain breathed. It became visible for a short moment. A red fog. A bloody haze.
"Breath of Blood," Stain announced, dodging another swipe by jumping up. The sword came down aimed at Overhaul's head. "Blood Drop Thrust!"