Izuku's mind was an ocean of questions since he got dragged into the world he now inhabits. How the hell did he end up in Yharnam? Why was he not dead? From either the slime villain or the countless other deaths he had lived through... Why did he miss his mom? Sure she was neglectful, and her glares hurt worse than anyone else he had run into... yet his heart yearned to see her again. The kindness of the doll reminded him that he could have that from her. Perhaps when he gets back, when time has passed, she would welcome him home. Or... or he might just live on the streets once he gets back... if she glares at him, looks at him like he was worse than trash, and ignores his very presence... then why live with her? He was doing just fine in Yharnam; he would do fine on the streets of Japan.

The Young Hunter's mind had been on this topic for a couple hours... hours after he gave the doll the hair ornament. When she shed a tear and spoke to him in a voice full of compassion... but he could not help but feel that there was something more troubling her. The slight crying had made him panic at first. He wanted to make her feel better, but she told him off, saying something about how nothing was wrong and that she was just so happy and thankful for the ornament. But then the amount of love she has shown him in his time in the dream and the fact he knew she would not tell him what was troubling her... hurt more than anything. She gave him one of her porcelain tears before he left. It was warm, constantly heating up his skin where it sat.

So he held himself up in the workshop, mind working overtime, both because of the excess emotion running through his system and the fact that he was layering another set of chainmail together. The time-consuming task of making chainmail gave him time to think.

Reasons he missed his mother. They were few and far between, but they were there. He could not help wanting her to hold him close, like when he was younger. He wanted her to love him again. It is why he tried so hard in school, why he applied and passed the out-of-grade level test. Why he always kept his pain to himself. He missed her katsudon, he tried to make it, but it always tasted off, seasoning either too much or too little and overcooking the pork. Even when she glared at him, he could not help but love her still. It was his nature to care for those close to him. He even cared about Bakugou to a degree... sadly. He cared about the deadbeat dad that left him, and he cared for the friends that forgot about him before he could show he was still the Izuku they once knew.

Then there were the reasons he hated his mother, a group of actions and comments that only seemed to grow and become more and more depreciating as time went by. She would watch him struggle to move after beatings and just... glare harder when he gave up. She would mock him behind his back when she was on the phone with coworkers. She could not help BUT comment about how useless and worthless he was... about how he was just a money sponge and all he was fit for was the tax cut. She never raised a hand to him... but she would deprive him of things he needed. She would stop getting groceries every week and eat out more she would 'forget' to refill the medicine cabinet with gauze and pain killers... and if she felt particularly hateful the burn cream. There was a month where she just left, not paying the water or the electricity for that month and leaving him there to suffer... while she was out with Aunt Mitsuki to America.

Izuku knew he should despise her more... but he does not. The only time she ever acted like her old self was when Aunt Mitsuki would visit once a year. When Aunt Mitsuki was not working. Then his mom was like how she used to be, all kind and full of love.

Aunt Mitsuki was the only person to not hate him... but she was always busy. Perhaps that was why Katsuki was always mad. Did he miss her like how Izuku missed her? Maybe he could see the Bakugou's when he got out of Yharnam. In front of his mom and dad, Katsuki would not dare to try anything... That idea sounds nice.

—

Riflemen could just go and shoot themselves. When Izuku entered the small cave to the left of the Grand Cathedral, he did NOT expect to be shot at by like twelve guys! Or… dogs covered with knives? Did- Did they glue sharp objects to their spazz dogs? That is ingenuity, but holy, hell is it annoying! How they were not slowed by the sheer bulk of sharp objects was magic in itself.

When Izuku first stepped out of the relatively short cave, he took a moment to admire the forest he had ended up in. The trees were tall and leafless and were clustered heavily. The moon shone brightly through the branches as they swayed in the breeze. It was also a graveyard because, of course, it was because Yharnam needed more graves, it seemed. And then he was shot. The pain blared in his left shoulder, so he took shelter behind a rock. Now the rock shield would have worked if he had seen the other three riflemen… and the dog of sharp objects. What seemed to be the majority of Izuku's deaths in the forest was not seeing the things that wanted to kill him. But Izuku was smart because if he was not. He would have never gotten this far.

So Izuku ran back to the graveyard-filled forest after he bled out and had his jugular chewed out by a sharp dog. A numb pull, stretching at the back of his mind as he crossed into the forest. The moment his foot cracked a branch, the dog near him bolted to him, only to get caught in the head by a quicksilver bullet. A loud echoing bang alerted Izuku of the bullet traveling at him, and in a moment he forced himself into a quickening fueled dash. The strange cold of the shot phasing through him alerted him to it passing and, he was off back in the physical plane, jumping over an overzealous beast and slamming the heel of his boot into its skull. The sickening crack followed by Izuku vaulting over the tombstone between him and the gunman in front of him. The wet sound of his blade cleaving through the man's skull and the cacophony of gunshots from the rest of the gunman made the numbness grow into a sharp ache in the back of Izuku's mind. The bullets never hit as Izuku forced his body into the pocket between as he quickened himself again; the next moment, his body seemed to have traveled in its misty state into the small alcove with four of the gunmen. A swift click and heavy, full-bodied swing of his whip cleaved into his four opponents; the individual blades layered the whip tearing into the soft flesh and raking through bone.

A deep breath, the ache pulling at him almost like the bloodlust he constantly fought against only more, pressed deep into Izuku's mind, almost probing for something. The soft yet hurried pounding of four- eight pawed feet rushing towards Izuku made him turn on a swivel, quickly pulling his gun up and firing into one as his whip found purchase in the neck of the second beast. Izuku's feet hit the gravel path like pistons as he rushed at the final gunman in his way, two gunshots went off in tandem, and then everything seemed to shift in Izuku's vision as the pain flared unexpectedly. The dark sky seemed to shimmer a vibrant red as his vision went black.

And then there was nothing. Not a sound echoed around Izuku as he sat in the darkness. Not a single movement caught Izuku's vision in the dark; there was only nothing but the empty blackness of sleep. Except he was not sleeping. It was like when he closed his eyes in the darkness of his room. However, in this instance, he was able to see himself.

And then there was a voice, a soft, kind voice that held power in every word.

"It's time we spoke, little green hunter." The voice vibrated the air around him, seemingly coming from all directions at once. "I will not give you false hopes, but I won't let you fall into the blood frenzy you almost allowed yourself to be overcome by. That being said, whatever your body does while your consciousness is here is not under my control. I am Flora, but you know me as your patron, the Great One of The Moon."

The gears in Izuku's mind stuttered; this was the being that brought him to this world? A bodiless void is what brought him here?

"When I brought you here, and that blood minister filled you full of my kins blood, I expected little from what it would do to your body. But I watched enamored by the sheer amount of congestion in your genetic code, quirkless? Was that what it was called? I think it should be called potential! Well, you would not be considered quirkless in your world now, especially with the line of my personally crafted genetic code filling some of that ill used space." The voice was filled with amusement and humor as it spoke, only to get a sharp tone when it continued to address him. "There are many ways our connection could continue, Small Hunter. You could leave after you finish off that wet mother of that... horrid creature Oedon fathered. You could take over Gehrman's job and teach future hunters. Perhaps you might even kill me? That would be humorous and unnecessary. So I will give you an ultimatum. A quirk of your own, as whenever you leave this world after killing off that cursed childs nurse, the effects will not help you achieve your goal as they will vanish when you wake. I can give you a connection to the Hunter's Dream in your old world. And you will bring me the head of the Orphan of Kos, the Pthumerian Queen's head, the crown of Illusion, and your word to never raise your hand to me."

The ultimatum, if you could call it that, would give him a quirk, a connection to the Hunter's Dream only for the heads of some beasts a crown and his word; Did flora think they smooth or something there was no way that his payment for the second life he was given did not exist. From what Izuku heard, he had five goals. Kill the wet mother of whatever it is, the orphan of Kos, the Pthumerian Queen, obtain a crown and give her his word. And he got another chance at life, power and, he got to keep the doll and Gerhman in his life?

Perhaps he should have thought through his options, or maybe Izuku made the right choice. But when he woke from the vision of nothing, his word was given to his patron.

—

The vision faded and, Izuku's hands were wet with a thick red substance. Where he was... He could not tell as he stood breathing heavily in the large room; the whip the young hunter usually wielded was replaced with the massive stone hammer he used to pulp the corpses in Central Yharnam. His heart was hammering in his chest, the curled and mutilated corpse of a... old hag? How long was he in the vision? Next to the hag's corpse was a lantern and a doorway that led down a long staircase. After lighting the lantern, Izuku headed down the stairs. What Izuku found down there was disturbing. It was a torture room, and sitting in the middle was a hunter's corpse. Who it was in their life, Izuku did not know, so he snooped and took all the important-looking tools hung around the room, including the one the hunter had on their body before they died.

Izuku backtracked from there, finding the corpses of the crazed witches that lived within the gnarled trees and cracked cobbles of what Gerhman told him was Hemwick Charnel Lane. Some were crushed flat with his massive stone hammer, others were sliced into parts with his whip, and a few were shot in multiple areas. No matter how far he looked and how thoroughly he searched, he could not find anything that was not explored. His boot prints and the etched cuts into wood and stone from his whip littered every inch of the area... meaning he was done here. Maybe.

—

Gerhman sat heavily in his wheelchair; he lost sight of Izuku for almost four hours... The kid should have been finished with Hemwick in less than an hour with how small that area is. And ever since the break-in his connection to Izuku, it seemed like the kid's connection to the dream had only gotten stronger. Nothing physical yet, but the energy, the kind that Gherman used to find the kid, had nearly doubled... it was almost as strong of a connection as Gerhman himself held to the dream. Which was concerning; he wanted to give the kid the easy out of the Hunter's Dream; he wanted the kid to forget everything that came from Yharnam. But if the kid made some kind of deal... most likely written solely by Flora herself, then his hands were tied.

In his own deal, he got everything he wanted, with a pretty high payment for it. He got his chance to help the future hunters; he got his workshop, not run down and blossoming with flowers and more hunter tricks than he could impart in a decade. And his price? He paid it willingly, his life, his future, and even his soul for his chance to stop the hunt forever. And in time, the possibility of the hunt ending has increased rapidly in the last couple of years... even if it is not the way he hoped. The number of people left to fight, much left, to live in Yharnam has dropped rapidly, causing the Moon's backup plan to be put into action... Taking people from other worlds and forcing them to fight for Yharnam's survival. Making deal after deal to get them to their homes, back to their friends and families. And now, his latest apprentice has made a deal with her, one that would likely help her more than it would him. And yet, it was the oddest thing. The air of the dream seemed to sweeten in approval with the deal, enveloping the floating landmass in a decedent aroma. Something that had never happened when a deal was struck, much less at the detriment of the hunters she conscripted.

There was a theory that those in the healing church believed in, "Great ones are not malevolent, they do not hate, they do not truly feel anger, but they are greedy, and when it comes to having children, their only way to find a suitable surrogate was the beast plague." That was the theory most believed, not that the great ones used the plague out of evil, not that they were angry that humans, a race so far below them, defiled their old corpses and used their blood in daily life.

What was correct? That was a question Gerhman asked the Moon when they first connected in the space between the real and the other. But the answer was knotted in... an inconstant answer. Oedon wanted a child and would bring the plague again and again, till a mortal bore him a child. But Ebrietas holds no ill will towards mortals, only wishing to impart her knowledge. But the list of great ones and their wants and beliefs stretched on and on, with diversity one only would think humans could have.

Gerhman wishes his apprentice luck in his journey throughout the depths of Yharnam, as even skill would not save even the strongest of hunters.

—

Ever since the... communion with the moo- Flora, Izuku had felt different. Like someone took the anchor that kept his mind shackled to everything from his world and shattered the weight. The dying dream of heroism vanished under the quaking realization he WAS going to be a hero. The feeling- the constant itch of being wrong and different from his peers had been lessened. And as Izuku scaled the massive staircase to the gigantic chapel in the Cathedral Ward, the soft voice from his communion whispered in his ear.

"Beyond the doors to the Chapel of the Healing Church is a woman who is nearing her transformation into a prominent beast; You are prepared but do not become overconfident little green. Consider my counsel to be a gift to sweeten the deal in your favor, just ask, and I will answer in a way that will keep your sanity." The voices' reverb rattled Izuku's thoughts from their places, making his mind grow fuzzy as he tore the head off a cathedral giant.

"I- I was wondering- I mean I was-... Since you brought me here from another dimension... are you like the strongest Great One?"

"No. Strength is... fluid in a way. Constantly flowing between those with the most strength to those with the least in certain groups of power, but it mostly stayed to those with the most potential with the power. I am the only moon-great one, giving me unparalleled control of my domains. But there are those a level above each other in our ascension. The highest in the council of great ones is Oedon. We traded in our physical, mortal forms in our ascent into our new meta-physical forms. But Oedon ascended the farthest; he has no reliable mold. He is more of an idea. An invisible player that controls the pawns on the chessboard with even the smallest of whims. Next on the council in strength and control is the celestial bodies. My two sisters and I hold these roles. We were created by Oedon on a whim eons before our ascent. I am the Moon, the celestial body given masterful control of the flow of things, time, blood, even the wind. My sister Gaia is the planet I orbit, the largest of us, given control of life, death, and the ground you walk on. And my sister Kos is the Ocean, given command of the mind, insight, and arcane magics."

"I- wait, you want me to kill the orphan of your sister? Is your sister dead?!" He did not mean to interrupt Flora, but this was her sister's child!

"Death is a mortal concept little green. Her semi-physical form was slain with her child half-formed in her womb. And she cannot reform until that bastard of a child is killed. If her ascended figure died, that cane of yours would not have become enchanted in your blood, and the veil you visit in the quickening art would no longer exist."

There was a long silence for a moment as Izuku pushed the massive stone doors to the cathedral open. He had only one more question before the battle in front of him.

"What kind of quirk are you going to give me?" It had been gnawing on him since he was promised it, and he needed to know.

"I was wondering when your eager heart would question me in simple terms. You would keep everything from here and be bound to the dream in an innumerably more free connection than Gerhman, but I will need to... replace most of your genetics. Quirkless is less a lack of the ability to hold a quirk and more of... a wrong mutation of sorts. Like someone jumbled what was supposed to be your quirk into the rest of your genetic code. Leading commonly to the extra toe joint. The process of cleansing your genetics had started when you were given blood by the minister but, the rest will have to be done by a more... careful hand. In a way, I will remake you into my own, a child given new form by me. You will be my first child, and you will be perfect. And those beings that can have children whenever they feel like it and just... just throw them away will regret throwing you away."

Izuku tripped as he trespassed into the cathedral's main room, its massive walls and high ceiling catching his attention for a moment as a small woman knelt in front of an altar. And as he sat up after the initial crack and splatter of blood. Where the small woman once knelt was a behemoth of a beast, its hind legs bent and its front clutching a small object tightly and, its massive maw seemed to sneer in his direction, its eyes hidden under what used to be the woman's dress. Its snow-white fur shimmered with light golden energy as it roared in his area. The soft voice spoke one last time to him that day, in a language he could not comprehend, but in his mind, he felt the words take shape, and a central memory formed, one of him as a hero, one of him under the bright moon of his homeworld.

The moon oath rune had been formed into him, granting him something he never thought he needed since he lost it. He lifted his hand, and blood cut out of the palm of his hand, stretching up to his arm to his elbow, and small balls of blood floated out and fired at the beast as he released his first actual arcane spell, A Call Home.

The bullets of blood pierced the beast's hide, redding the white coat as the acid-like blood melted through it as Izuku grabbed his cane, and with a click, he was off. The words of Flora ringing in his ears as his mind decoded the infinite ways the words could be spoken.

"The Dream is your home now, and with this oath to me and its inhabitants. Only think these words to call our strength to your side.

By the blood moon and its power,

I call its strength to be mine,

By the Moon give me my desire,

Slay those foulest before me."

The whip he held bit deep into the hide of the beast, the fire of his heart billowing through him as he tore into it, dodging its irregular attacks and ripping chunks out of its weak points. He had a home. Whether for good or bad, the Hunters Dream was his home. Sadly more than the apartment with a room with his nameplate on it.

—

I rewrote this chapter a lot of times, but I think it turned out well! I hope you liked it! It is currently really late, and I have work in the morning, so imma asleep after uploading this! Constructive criticism is appreciated!