Izuku woke up in emptiness.

Perhaps that wasn't quite accurate. It was a white room that looked like it stretched on forever, but his ears revealed the echo just a few meters away. Though it was bright and empty, the room itself had walls as white as the floor and ceiling.

It was somewhat relaxing.

A young man stood there. He wore a demon slayer uniform, but there was on sword at his side. His eyes were an empty bright blue, a color which had also settled at the tips of his hair.

He also noticed that the young man was actually smaller than him.

Izuku blinked, walking up to him. A soft smile appeared on his face. Izuku could recognize it, a smile which looked as if the person who was smiling had just learned how to do so again.

"Muichiro… Tokito-san?" Izuku tried. Muichiro nodded. "It's nice to meet you."

"You're quite something."

He was soft spoken, but not lacking emotion at all. The smile on his face did not slip off as he reached out. It was strange, getting grabbed by someone smaller than him. Muichiro's fingers came up to touch his arms, slowly trailing upwards towards his neck and cheeks.

"She trained you well," Muichiro said. Izuku blinked.

"Thanks?" he tried. Muichiro seemed to have troubles with personal space. "I've heard you were very good, too. You became one of the strongest in a few months time, right?"

"Minor details, we were so stretched thin at that point that the title just felt like more responsibility with less payoff." Muichiro's hands came up further, touching on Izuku's hair.

"Is there anything you want to do? Something you need to get off your chest?"

"I don't know," Izuku said, stepping away from the overly touchy hands and leaning against the wall. His head was lazily moving to the left and right. Slowly slipping down the wall, he put his fingers up to his chin. "These dreams usually come with a lesson of sorts. A way to show their technique to me in a way Nezuko-sensei can't show me, some food for thought, some sort of peace with the decisions I have made or will make."

"I've never been good at advice," Muichiro admitted, shrugging. Sitting down next to him, Muichiro looked at the white void in front of them. "But maybe that's why it's my turn this time. Do you need advice, Kagura Ubuyashiki?"

Izuku thought.

His path was clear, his enemies had faces and a purpose in juxtaposition to his. He had his duty. He had his technique.

"No," Izuku said eventually. "I suppose I don't."

"Then perhaps that is your answer," Muichiro said, tapping his finger against Izuku's temple. "Maybe you've above petty advice, you have to move past it eventually, right?"

"Sometimes I wonder," Izuku said. "Things seem to be stacked up against me, every month I keep facing some new crisis. It's like karma."

"I suppose one can see it that way," Muichiro said, nodding. "Oyakata-sama's karma was to die for the sins of blood. It could be the same for you."

Izuku's father being responsible for what could become a crisis as close to Muzan as possible would certainly explain a few things. In the end, his connection to the Ubuyashiki and his mother's status as a researcher, they were catalysts for Nezuko's appearance in his life. Her appearance brought the sword, the sword brought the adversary.

She was right, touching a sword hilt was truly like poison.

He frowned. "I blame Stain."

Muichiro laughed. It was soft, yet full of joy. His shoulders shook as his eyes closed, and the smile on his face made Izuku smile back.

"I imagine if you had been born during our era," Muichiro said, standing up. "You would have seen a different kind of karma. You learn fast when bleeding, Tanjiro Kamado was quite similar. I'm sure you would have gotten along."

Izuku stood as well. "According to her, I don't think that there's one person who didn't get along with him."

Muichiro grinned a wide grin. He raised his fist. Izuku bumped his knuckles against it. "It's fine to relax once in a while."

"Who's here without a lesson for me now, hm?" Izuku asked.

Mid-terms, day four. It was more a blur than anything else. After waking up he was dressed and on his way, making sure to give Eri a promise to come back after school. She had become increasingly insistent on that. His little finger was itching when he thought of the morning. A thousand needles if he broke that promise indeed.

It was good to see her gaining confidence, though. What had begun as small progress of a few smiles here and there, and became laughter at the end of the road, had grown. She was more confident now. She said what was on her mind, and she said it well. Sometimes, she would become like any other child and make demands, even small ones such as what she wanted for dinner.

Izuku smiled as he thought about the time she wanted a doll of her new favorite show on TV and Nezuko was somewhat flustered in admitting that she didn't know how to order something online.

However, today he could not keep that promise of coming home immediately. It was on the way back after the exams, the hardest so far. He was in the train as he received the message. A number he had saved not too long ago.

Mr. Yaoyorozu: The hospital called, she's awake.

He wasn't too far. The next stop, he stepped out and took the rooftops. His Breath was desperate and heavy, his feet slapped against the ground with a force that caused loud echoes to fill the streets, causing people on the way home from school and work to look into his direction.

When he arrived, he took a moment to gather himself. His uniform was all over the place, so he had to fix that. He stepped in, straightening the jacket and pulling the gloves on tighter. He didn't need to ask for anything, his approach was more than enough. The receptionist just waved him through.

He gave an appreciative nod and ran up the stairs without much thought. The uppermost floor, five doors to the left of the staircase, an empty room.

Izuku frowned. The machines were making small noises, the tubes that were all over her arms, chest and mouth were lying on the bed, as were enough bandages to cover someone from head to stopped panicking and listened.

He could hear her breathing in the distance. Not under him, or far away at all. She was above him, in the same place where Aizawa-sensei had attempted to cheer him up by trying and failing the age-old approach of punching someone who was feeling down.

Izuku walked out of the room, back to the staircase and walked up.

She sat on the roof. Or perhaps sitting wasn't quite the right word. She was hunched over, cross-legged, the hospital gown dirty on the bottom, and a few drops of blood were streaming down from where she had roughly pulled out the machines that were attached to her.

Izuku approached with slow steps. Her hair was down and wet, giving her back a rather threatening appearance as the black strands were strewn into every direction sticking to the gown and the back of her neck.

She turned around when he was halfway between her and the staircase door. The bandages were gone, of course, angry red scars ran down her face, tracing the path of Himiko Toga's knife. It was a wonder she hadn't lost an eye.

Izuku did not stop his approach, however. Once he was one step away, he fell forward, kneeling next to her and wrapping his arms around her back. She felt hot. Burning, in fact. His touch was soft, afraid that her wounds might open again, but she didn't reach up to touch his arms.

"I've failed," she said. Her voice was… deeper than before, though still clearly recognizable. It was laced with something that Izuku could not place, though it felt all too familiar to him. A sense of longing, and a sense of loathing.

"You didn't fail at all," he said, his chin over her shoulder. She shook, both her body and her head. "I'm here. I'm alright."

"And I'm not," she said. "And you might not have been."

"We both wouldn't have had to deal with this if I wasn't an idiot," Izuku said, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. Momo stilled. "We knew Himiko Toga's quirk, and yet we've grown complacent. I didn't notice until I was already poisoned."

"I used to love that selfless attitude," Momo admitted. Her fist clenched over his arm, pressing her fingers so hard into his skin that it was bruising him. "But right now, I really, really hate it."

She stood up, pushing his arms off her. He fell backwards, landing ass first on the dirty roof and looking up at her as she turned around.

"Look at me," she said, pointing at herself. He was. He really was. The angry scars ran down from her forehead down to her nose, from under her eyes all the way down her cheeks and onto her neck. Around her neck, where a hole in her windpipe had been, furious weaved tissue. "Look at me."

She practically ripped the hospital gown off. The pattern that had become visible on her face was making itself known on her entire body. Jagged scars around her shoulders and arms, deep gashes in her chest and stomach. She wasn't just beaten, she was tortured, and from the biggest scar right under her chest, where a rib had to be completely regrown, cannibalized by the monster that was Himiko Toga.

It was a horrifying sight, Izuku could not deny that. She was by no means disfigured beyond recognition, of course not. Her natural beauty still shone through, but what he thought and what she thought were two entirely different things. His own opinions on the sight were irrelevant, it was about her feelings on the matter after all.

Momo had… never been ashamed of her body. Her hero costume was already rather revealing, made with the idea of making her quirk easier to use. Though Izuku could genuinely not tell whether it was her overcoming the shame or her upbringing simply not teaching her to have any. Either way, the sight in front of him felt wrong.

"No," Izuku said, shaking his head. She frowned. "You can feel it, and you know how much I hate lying. Listen to my heartbeat. You are beautiful."

She should not be ashamed of the scars, and he had to stop blaming himself for them. It was something that they could not do alone. This was the resolution that they both had to make together, to move past them.

"It hurts more," Momo said, her fingers touching over her neck. "The fact that you're not lying, that you genuinely think that, it hurts more."

"I'm sorry," Izuku said. His eyes were stinging. He rubbed them, trying to keep the tears from them. "But… I can't lie to you. Your father, he said that I should not lie or lead you on, that if I could not stand you I should tell you and move on so that we can both come out of this eventually."

Momo frowned, squatting down, her hands over her face.

"I don't know what love is or isn't," Izuku said, standing up again and approaching her. "All I know is that my days are brighter with you in them, and that when I couldn't trust my own mother you were the only person I was comfortable with telling."

He reached out, touching her hand. The soft breeze was playing a song as it licked her scars. She tried to pull back, pushing off, but she couldn't get out of his iron grip. He pulled her closer, pulling her hands off her face and around her back, wrapping his own arms around her. She was shaking with an intensity that cracked the ground beneath them.

"I'm tired of hospitals," Momo said, crying into his shoulder. "I want to go home. I want to see my friends at school."

"You will," Izuku said, planting a kiss on her temple. "Your father's coming to pick you up. It'll be fine."

Eventually, they'd be fine.

All For One, Shigaraki, as he had introduced himself, walked up next to him. The 'arena', if it could be called that, was a round floor with many gates, built so far underground in a laboratory that they were able to use off-the-grid electricity from the thermal geo energy under them.

Hisashi clenched his fist as he watched the scene. It was disgusting. Bloody and squelching, hours upon hours of watching test subjects fail to become immortal had not prepared him for this. It didn't help that Himiko Toga's opponents had already been the subjects of Shigaraki's own experiments. The monsters with visible flesh and muscle, often visible brains and wide, pain filled eyes, were entering the arena one by one.

"How is she doing?" Shigaraki asked. Hisashi's mouth twisted in disgust, but he answered nonetheless.

"Fifteen… Nomu," Hisashi said, the word tasting like poison on his tongue. "She struggled at first, but she's getting stronger much faster than the notes of my ancestors seem to imply. They say a demon grows in power with its age and the amount of people it eats, but that certain demons have an upper limit. The only ones without an upper limit were Nezuko Kamado and Muzan."

Shigaraki nodded. Though he lacked eyes, it was still obvious what he was staring at. Himiko was sitting in the chest cavity of a colossal Nomu and eating it slowly, saving each bite. It was disgusting beyond the pale.

"Her body is unique," Shigaraki said. "Her quirk transforms blood into energy immediately, she is the perfect vessel to become a demon."

"I… can see that," Hisashi said, his fist unclenching. "At this rate she might surpass you, but her response to the UV rays is still rather severe. If she can't handle those without discomfort, sunlight will be too far for her."

"I don't expect her to take the sunlight on now," Shigaraki said. "But if she grows powerful enough, there is other value. If nothing else, isn't this making your heart beat faster, Ubuyashiki? Does this not spark joy in the eyes of a man of your genius?"

"Not in particular," Hisashi said. It was impossible to lie to the bastard, which caused even more conflict between them. "They know we're on the move. They destroyed the yakuza import base in Tokyo. If Nezuko Kamado finds us, we are done."

"Perhaps so," Shigaraki said. Hisashi could hear the grin behind the mask. "Your son, he's truly something special, too."

Hisashi's fist clenched again, harder than before. He wondered, for a moment, what life would have been if he hadn't moved on with his life to study the Muzan cells. What his family might have looked like if he could go back and fix everything.

"Are you impressed or jealous?" Hisashi asked. Himiko Toga had finished. She stood up, cracking her neck a few times before stretching her arms upwards. A sound, a loud buzzer, announced her next opponent. Another monster with incredibly long claws.

"A bit of both, I imagine just what that boy might have done under my tutelage," Shigaraki said. "Quirkless, yet so powerful. Nezuko Kamado is a commendable teacher, but his growth is all on his own."

"The girl, the Yaoyorozu heiress," Hisashi said. "You could use her against him."

Shigaraki shifted. Hisashi wasn't sure how, but he could feel the grin slip off the smug villain's face. "What an utter failure of a father you are."

"Platitudes from a villain," Hisashi said, turning around and walking away, back towards his office. "You have no highground, we are both monsters."

"I do not," Shigaraki said, not turning his head. "And yet, let me tell one lesson I have learned over the many years that I have called this country my home. We are not more than those we leave behind, we will always be lesser."

Hisashi stopped at the door, his hand on the handle. "You say we should let the children resolve this between themselves?"

Hypocrite, Hiashi thought. Shigaraki did turn around then, his head tilted slightly to the right.

"I've lived a long life, I have no ambition to go back to what I once was," Shigaraki, no, All For One, spoke. "I have one goal. One very simple and decisively single goal. The force that has driven humanity from the beginning, the thing that the people who believe in the man on the cross describe in utmost detail."

"And that'd be?" Hisashi asked. To become a god? Become more than he was? Shigaraki reached up, grabbing his helmet and taking it off. The scarred over eyes and bald head were glaring back.

"Revenge."

Hisashi frowned, opening the door and closing it behind him. Despite that, he could hear the sounds of fighting in the arena below. He walked step after step towards his own office, shivering every second as he heard the monstrous squelching.

So she ate.

She ate, and she ate, and she ate.

Until the cages were empty and the floor was nothing more than blood.

Chapter 33, upcoming:

The Nichirin Blade, Revisited

"A long time ago, I failed," All Might said. He was hunched over in the chair, a single, untouched cup of tea in front of him. "I tried and failed to kill the man who had murdered my teacher. I have injured him, to the point where I thought he was truly gone, and he had returned the favor."

The man raised his shirt. Izuku's hands clenched over his own cup, cracking the surface. Boiling liquid was running down the crack and his fingers, forcing him to set the cup down.

"You… are a Demon Slayer," All Might said. Izuku nodded slowly. "Your mother, she helped with the RS-9 research."

Izuku nodded once more.

"If All For One manages to do it," All Might said. "If he becomes a demon who surpasses sunlight. I have a favor to ask of you."

"Anything," Izuku said, perhaps too quickly.

"To ask this of a student is ill fitting of the symbol of peace," All Might said, frowning. "But in desperate times, we ought not question the measures we would go for to protect all held dear. Would you fight with me, Izuku Midoriya?"

Izuku took the man's hand when he stretched it out. Today, he was not a student or a child to be protected.

Today he was met as an equal by his idol.