Izuku all but kicked the door in at Tenko's place. The back alley doctor's office looked exactly as Izuku had imagined it, though he did not expect to see a familiar face lying on the table, or rather a familiar mask. One of the four men, the one that Stain had chopped a few fingers off, was sitting being put back together with Tenko, who looked at them with a raised eyebrow as he turned around.

"I know what this looks like," Tenko said, raising his hands in defense and pulling on a thread that was currently in the work or sewing an index finger back on. The man screamed in pain. "But fifty thousand yen are fifty thousand yen."

Izuku resisted the urge to roll his eyes and let Stain down on a chair in the corner. It was hard, and likely uncomfortable.

"You don't seem to be that concerned." Izuku looked over the wounds. It was almost grotesque, but at this point he had stopped being squeamish about blood. It was nothing compared to Momo's injuries.

"I've had many injuries like these," Stain said. He sounded absolutely wrong on the inside, not like a demon but something between human and monster. A single lung kept him going, the blood that he had lost seemed to be like nothing more than a minor inconvenience. His breathing was focused.

It forced oxygen into every cell in spite of the lack of blood.

"Any lessons, senpai?" Izuku asked, ripping the shirt open to reveal his holed body. The scars gave truth to his words. Many wounds like these indeed. "Or maybe I should call you Kenshiro now."

Stain laughed, understanding the age-old reference of an ancient comic book series. The drops of blood that hit Izuku in the face were not to the latter's amusement, however. He wiped away some of the blood around the wounds. "Stand still."

"Only one," Stain said, his eyes unfocused over Izuku's shoulder and seeking out Tenko. "You're only dead once you accept you're dead. Keep breathing."

Izuku nodded. He imagined the advice would sound like that. Considering Stain's inability to stay down when faced with incredibly powerful quirks, it sounded true enough. Tenko finished up with the man behind him, dragging him to his feet and kicking him out.

"Well," Tenko said, walking back to them, wrapping an arm around Izuku's shoulder. "Looks like you didn't get the answer you wanted."

"No," Stain said, grinning. "But this kid ended the yakuza war single-handedly."

Tenko blinked. Izuku could feel the start of the young man, who pulled his arm back quickly to stare at him. Izuku stared back.

"If you had let me kill that doctor," Stain said. "He'd be quirkless."

"He'd have to find someone else to replace his limbs," Izuku said simply. He didn't take joy from Overhaul's condition, or pride at the success of the, admittedly lopsided fight. Stain, however, seemed to be the opposite. "You really would've killed him, wouldn't you?"

"I told you, I'm a villain who kills villains," Stain said. "And if there's a villain I'd describe as the most killable piece of shit on this side of Tokyo, it'd be him. You can't say you don't agree."

"No," Izuku said, shaking his head. The image of Eri's smile flashed in his mind, causing shivers to run down his spine. "I can't."

"Geez," Tenko said, pushing Izuku away to take a look at Stain's wounds. "I'll want a full report later, you look like you need some rest."

"It's all good," Izuku said. He was tired, but not hurt too much.

He seemed to get hurt less and less every time he fought.

"No way," Tenko said, standing up. "You're a growing boy with a bright future, you'll write midterms tomorrow morning. Go home."

Izuku scowled at Tenko. "You're a few years too late to play the kind older brother."

"And you're going to have one hell of a bad time explaining that blood to Mama," Tenko said. Izuku pursed his lips. He was right. Tenko shook his head, pointing at a door. "There's a few clothes of mine there, might not fit your scrawny ass but that'll be better than running around looking like you stepped out of a slasher flick. No offense, Stain."

"I won't take any once you glue me back together you smug little prick," Stain said, hissing when Tenko poked one of the holes. "Are your hands even disinfected?"

Izuku shook his head. Stain would be fine. Hopefully. He'd still have to arrest him at the end of this. Walking up to the door, he opened it to find tons of random clothes thrown all over a small bedroom. He picked up a too big pair of pants and a hoodie with a distasteful slogan on the front. He'd still have to wash the blood out of his hair.

Izuku sighed. What a pain.

Momo woke up not to find heaven, but to something close to it. A temple.

It was well kept, and well lived in. Outside she could hear children playing together, laughing, kicking balls back and forth. She could not see them from where she sat, in the middle of what could only be described as a prayer room.

A man sat in front of her. He had short black hair, as well as two prominent scars. One of them sat on his forehead like a crown, reaching all the way around. The other one was a scar that ran from the right side of his forehead all the way down to the left side of his cheek.

His eyes were closed, and around both his neck and arms were beads.

"Are you praying?" she found herself asking. The man did not speak up. Instead, he nodded. The chained beads clicked together. "Why are you praying?"

"I prayed not for myself, but for those children."

His voice was as deep as his hulking form would imply. He opened his eyes, revealing nothing but white. Though they could not see anything, Momo felt pierced by the heavy-set stare of the blind buddhist.

"They seem happy," Momo said, nodding. She felt strange. Like she was forgetting something. "What is this place?"

"Not the pure land, not the afterlife, or a place to reincarnate," the man said. Momo frowned.

"That's what it isn't, but…" she trailed off, looking around. The tapestry on the wall showed the Amida Buddha. "This is like those dreams Izuku-kun told me about, isn't it? The transparent world?"

He had told her bits and details. He had confided in her about his frustrations with Nezuko's seeming disinterest in the whole thing. The man simply nodded.

"I am but a sinner awaiting salvation." His hands separated, but the beads stayed around his arms. He lowered his gaze, in a short bow. "I am known as Gyomei, please feel free to address me as such."

Momo blinked. She knew the name. Nezuko-sensei had told stories, stories that Izuku had also shared with her. The man in front of her was once one of the leaders of the Demon Slayer Corps. She bowed her head in return, only realizing as she was doing so that he could not see it.

"It's an honor to meet you, Gyomei-san."

The man's voice rumbled. "You have fought hard."

Momo blinked once more. The words, they sounded so distant. For a moment there was confusion. In another, she felt pain.

She shook her head, looking at her stinging hands. Scars were running up her arms. She looked down, finding them over her chest and stomach as well. The intensity of the pain increased every breath she took, itching all over her body to tell her just how many wounds Himiko Toga had inflicted after she fell unconscious during the session.

She had lost the fight. Her eyes opened wide, standing up with such speed that it cracked the wooden tiles over the prayer room.

"Izuku!" she shouted. "I didn't save him, he's still-"

"Izuku Midoriya is fine," Gyomei said. Momo frowned, looking at the man. Even sitting on his legs, he was almost as tall as her. The colossus moved, slow and steady. His eyes followed her as she tried to open the door. It was locked tight. "It is you who isn't."

"I don't know what you mean," Momo said, crossing her arms in defiance. She glared at him. "I'm perfectly fine, and I'd like to check up on him."

"Breathe."

It was an order, not a suggestion. Momo's frown did not leave her face, even as she prepared her body to do it. The second she did, her body shook.

The breath sounded not like normal. Rather than hissing between her teeth and sending strength through her arms, it felt like an ice cold wind licking her bones. She released the breath, falling onto her knees, beads of sweat on her forehead.

"What happened to me?" Momo asked.

"Nothing physical," Gyomei said. Tears were running down his face. Momo would have thought them mockery if his voice had not begun to quiver. "You are hurt, not just from the outside, but from the inside as well."

She was?

Momo shook her head.

She was.

Something inside her felt missing. As if Himiko Toga had cut out a part that was all too important to her. She knew, of course, that Toga had cut under her breast at one point and practically devoured half her lung before she passed out, but it wasn't an injury like that.

Hollow failure was calling her chest cavity home. She clenched her fist, standing up again and breathed.

And fell over. Her face would have hit the hard floor if Gyomei had not stepped up to her to halt her fall. She breathed heavily. Her face was reflected in the beads. She screamed in breathless frustration, the sound sounding more like an anguished sob.

"You are not broken," Gyomei said. He helped her sit, taking her hands and putting them together. "You are not whole. You will heal, and you will come out stronger from this."

"How?" she asked. Her tongue felt heavy. Her ears were ringing. Her body shook with frustration and desperation.

The man removed one set of beads from his arms and put them around her hands.

"For now, meditate." He mirrored the position that he had guided her into. "Until your body heals, and you are ready to wake, meditate."

"I'm not into religion," she murmured, looking down at the beads around her wrists. Izuku was the spiritual one between them, and even he wasn't religious in that regard. For him, it was an observation of tradition.

Tradition was important, he would tell her.

"One does not have to take solace in a higher power to meditate," Gyomei said. His breathing was changing slowly. "I did not tell you to pray. Sometimes, it is just the action that you repeat which becomes your deity. Every breath you take, every time you swing your blade. Every matryoshka doll you make time and time again."

Momo's frown slipped off her face.

She nodded and closed her eyes.

She heard Izuku's voice echo. Another technique. A saving throw against Himiko Toga.

She fought the blush that rose on her cheeks as she heard the name.

Midterms, day three. Two days since Momo had fallen into her post-surgery coma. Izuku used to like Wedesdays. Now he just dreaded coming to school. It was fortunate that he wasn't going to have any heroics classes, because he needed a new sword.

It was unfortunate that, unless he wanted to pay the same criminal that Stain was paying, he had to face the people he didn't dare face. Even as he met them in the hospital, his eyes were cast downwards and Mrs. Yaoyorzu's crushing hug did not feel like comfort.

Today the class did not hound him. Perhaps it was the expression on his face. He saw himself in the window, glaring at nothing. Whenever he thought of last night, he saw the face of Overhaul. Izuku would not regret his actions, but he could not feel proud either.

Between two of the exams, Kirishima approached him.

"Hey, Midoriya," Kirishima said. "Some of us want to go visit Momo after the exams, want to come with us?"

Izuku thought about it. He still had to request a new sword from the Yaoyorozus. He knew the sword-making would take time, though her family had a few shortcuts that did not mess with the quality in the slightest.

"I'm sorry," Izuku said, murmuring the words so low that Kirishima had to lean in to hear them. "I'm visiting her parents today. There's something I have to discuss with them."

Kirishima didn't make any judgement whatsoever, yet Izuku could still feel the strange piercing stare on his skin. Smiling, the red-haired boy put a hand on Izuku's shoulder.

"All good, man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, right?" Kirishima said. Izuku nodded slowly. "You look like you've barely slept, don't overwork yourself, alright?"

"I'll try," Izuku said, trying and failing to work a smile onto his own face. He wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure, but it certainly wasn't Kirishima. "How have you been holding up?"

"All good," Kirishima said. Izuku could hear the lie on his lips. The subtle, yet audible noise of the young man's fist clenching behind his back. Izuku could see Shinso cast his own stare of doubt into their direction.

It was funny.

Kirishima was likely the most earnest guy he knew. Yet, Izuku would call him the most accomplished liar. He simply had a smile that you wanted to believe. The fanged grin that reached his eyes without even trying.

Izuku could mention it. He could say that he didn't have to feel bad about what happened to Momo because he couldn't have predicted just what was going to happen.

But that'd make him a hypocrite.

More so than he already was. For all his platitudes about honesty, he was the one lying to everyone right now. He could claim it was out of duty as much as he wanted, but that did not make him feel any better.

He could say that it was necessary, and in a way it was, but that didn't mean he had to shut everyone out.

Hell, in the end he could even call Tenkai and have him give his approval of the chase after Hisashi. It would certainly be in his best interest to shut down any supply lines for whatever new labs he was setting up with All For One.

"Ya heard about the news? The yakuza gang boss who was wreaking havoc a while back?" Kirishima asked. Izuku blinked. Of course that'd be already public. Shaking his head, Kirishima gave his unprompted summary. "Seems like someone messed him up bad, probably some other gang leader. Some dude gave an interview-"

Izuku frowned. Maybe he should've worn a mask, but the swords would have been a dead giveaway anyway. Kirishima leaned in.

"Looks like it was Stain with some new apprentice of his," Kirishima said, his voice low. "I know you don't like him, because he uses a sword like you, right?"

Izuku blinked.

He had to resist the urge to laugh at that.

"Did they say anything about the apprentice?" Izuku asked, keeping his expression in check. Kirishima shrugged, crossing his arms. Izuku could hear Midnight in the hallway, the next exam would start soon.

"Nothing really, it's really weird. No one said anything, as if they were afraid. The dude who got interviewed just brought him up and then mentioned Stain."

Izuku nodded.

He had imagined Stain would go back to finish the job in case nobody had gotten Overhaul out yet. He wasn't sure if it was fortunate or unfortunate that he was being associated with Stain like that, but as long as his name was not brought up, he could deal.

He really should wear a mask, however.

"Thanks for telling me," Izuku said, nodding. "We'll talk later, alright?"

"Alright," Kirishima said, stretching his fist out. Izuku bumped his knuckles against it as Midnight opened the door to the classroom.

Izuku was not nervous, but he was humbled. In the small office, too small even when compared to the sheer opulence that was the Yaoyorozu manor, Izuku felt small. It didn't help that, just like his wife and daughter, Mr. Yaoyorozu was massive. A man who towered over him without any significant mutation that would be responsible for it.

Though the office looked professional, much more than the offices of Yoroi Musha or the principal's office at U.A., the man himself was dressed lightly. The clothes he wore under his work clothes. A tank top, a heavy set of loose pants that had a few holes burned into them from sparks and molten metal. His arms were bulky, from the years of smithing. His hands were callused, from the heavy grip on the hammer.

His eyes were soft.

Deep black, just like his daughter, but shining with emotion.

On the table sat the hilts of the now broken blades. The Nichirin metal could ot be salvaged, such was the nature of it, and the quirk that had destroyed them. Izuku had his hands in his lap, his head bowed slightly.

"I won't ask you how they broke," Mr: Yaoyorzu said. His voice was deep, but lost. His thoughts were elsewhere. Izuku glanced at the picture of a young Momo that sat on the desk. He knew where, it was the same place his own thoughts strayed whenever he closed his eyes. "I'm more surprised just how long they held, though I suppose not cutting demons in half with them every week would help with that."

Izuku nodded. He knew that structurally, the blades were not that much sturdier than a normal katana, which was rather brittle by itself. What gave the Nichirin blade the edge, without any pun intended, was the Breath.

A solid strike, a clean cut, would make the sword hold longer.

Izuku was confident in his cuts.

He was not very confident as he faced the man whose daughter had been hurt so much because of him.

But Izuku was not nervous.

"I will forge you a new one," the man said. "The costs, I am sure that Tenkai the Toad will gladly pay the costs. Not that I would have taken money from you anyway."

"I can pay," Izuku said, bowing his head. "Either way, I can pay."

"It's fine, give us a week and it will be done." the man said, sighing. "Do you need a blunt sword as well?"

"If you can spare the sun steel," Izuku said, looking at the table. He wasn't willing to part from his less-lethal option. Aiming at limbs to break them would always be effective with certain kinds of villains. Maybe not the likes of Overhaul, but he did not want to remove the limbs of everyone he met. The man simply nodded.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. A small clock on the wall behind him kept ticking along. Two hundred and twenty ticks later, the man spoke up again.

"Izuku Midoriya."

Izuku looked up, meeting the man's eyes properly. His ears twitched. The voice, previously distant, took on the present edge. When the man's features softened, and he bowed his head, Izuku felt like panicking.

"Thank you," the man said. "For saving my daughter. Thank you."

"I didn't do anything," Izuku said. All he did was throw a tantrum and still fail to finish Himiko Toga off. "It was her who saved me. I just… got her injured. She deserved so much better than that."

"She does," Mr. Yaoyorzu said. "She's calmed down a lot since starting U.A.. It's not that she has changed, but she has become a lot more focused. Her usual excitement was suddenly all about you, and the techniques you were teaching her. She smiled a lot more, she became happier every day."

Izuku nodded. He, too, noticed the shine in her eyes every time she was talking about becoming a hero. He saw the prideful smile when she was able to use her parents' well-crafted weapon to its fullest.

But every time he closed her eyes, he also saw her blood and scars that peeked out from under the bandages at the hospital.

"I'm sorry," Izuku said, bowing his head again. "For everything. I'm sorry."

"No," the man said, shaking his head. "I know you are, but you do not have to be."

"She was hurt because I was stupid," Izuku said. "I was fooled by Himiko Toga, but that's not an excuse. Because I was too weak to protect myself, Momo had to save me, and if it hadn't been for her I might have died. That is my responsibility as a failure."

"You're not to blame, I know that," Mr. Yaoyorozu said, frowning. The man's callused hands were balled into a heavy fist that shook with the burden of worry for his daughter. "You're a good man. Not because you were taught by Kamado-san, or because you're of the Ubuyashiki family. You're… the best choice my daughter could have made."

"I'll take responsibility," Izuku said, bowing his head. "Whatever you need, however I can repay you. Tell me, and I'll do it."

"There's nothing you need to do differently that you're doing now," the man said. "Only one thing, there's a single thing I'll not ask but demand from you."

"Whatever it is," Izuku promised again.

"Don't stay with her out of a sense of responsibility," Mr. Yaoyorozu ordered. Izuku started at the harsh words. "If you stop liking her, whether it be her appearance once the bandages are gone, or any other reason under the sky. Don't lead her on."

Izuku frowned. "Of course."

"But if you do love her," Mr. Yaoyorozu continued. "Tell her. She might not love herself after this."

Chapter 32, upcoming:

The Song of Scars

The wind howled around her scars as the breeze touched on them. Izuku took her hand, even as she tried to pull it out of his reach. His other arm came up, wrapping around her back and squeezing her.

She didn't cry, but her body shook with tremors that cracked the earth.