A/N: Quick update this time, yay
Lots of warnings, kinda wild. I'm fixing to get back to Katsuki again, dontcha worry ur little tushies (ok worry a lot about Izuku, that's fair)
Warnings: blood, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, suicidal intentions, bad language, panic attacks, mentions of drug abuse, drug overdose, depression, anxiety, mentions of character death
Be well, friends. Enjoy!
Chapter 15–Imaginary Spaces
Izuku did not learn forgiveness. Instead, it was branded into his skin under a different name. He practiced it with ease now, having had years to perfect it. He could smile and shake off insults and bruises and broken bones like a leaf sheds water.
He knew how to persist.
Without this lesson, Izuku would have bowed out much sooner. Would have tried to end his life at the request of his peers at the slim age of seven. He would have cut deeper without fear, in the loneliness he could bear each night in the comforting darkness of his room. He would have learned that all the taunts might have been for nothing.
Quirkless no more.
But the boy, as he sits in his room now, walls bare except for a few scuffs and stains, doesn't have the luxury of sharing the change of fate. Share the shocking quirk with others. He thinks they might be disappointed, as he felt. Kacchan might even be angry.
Deku didn't deserve a quirk.
Yet Izuku has one. That he trains now, as often as he can get away with unnoticed. And it's going well.
Weeks, into months now. He's dropped his recovery time in half. He learns what helps lessen the pain, the delirium, the panic and flashbacks and suicidal thoughts, and what doesn't. And he picks his poison sometimes, for punishment.
Yes, he'd gotten better. For the field. For the work he would do. For the safety of others, to be the very best hero he could be.
But the training hurts now. Even when he doesn't want the painful flashbacks and side effects of his quirk, sometimes they linger. Izuku can't tell if they are a part of him now or if the accelerated pace of his training has caused the effects.
Worse still–he no longer forgets great chunks of time. Perhaps it is the training, or perhaps it is because there is no more dust in the cogs, there is no purpose for his body to fight the quirk any longer. But he remembers each session now, he recalls the feeling of wooziness as his veins are quickly drained of blood, the chill of cold as his extremities wither from the drug of the day. He knows now, how death comes, he is aware until his toes whisper onto the edge of death, and consciousness fails him. Only to reawaken with a gasp, or a groggy squint, his body one large and angry burning ache.
A knock at the door stirs Izuku from his slumber. He perks up immediately, then groans and rolls his shoulders back. He'd fallen asleep at his desk again. Writing. Probably why his dreams were so dark.
He is clumsy as he makes his way downstairs, scans the peephole, then clicks the lock open. Only to be greeted by an insomniac.
"We had plans, small fry, let's get going."
Izuku groans, because he'd forgotten what day it was, but steps away from the door. He is apologetic as he motions the boy inside. "I'll go get ready. Sorry, Shinso."
The purple-haired boy smirks, eyeing the couch as he steps inside and toes his shoes off. "Just excited for training today, no rush green bean." The boy grows stiff as a board just behind the couch and falls back. He teeters along the ridge of the couch. "What do you think he's gonna' make us do today? Kinda' nervous about what 'optimization' might mean."
Izuku pulls a bowl of rice from the fridge and dumps it onto a buttered pan. "Aizawa-sensei is certainly cryptic." He heats another pan, butters it too, and drops two eggs in.
"Back in a second. I'm heating breakfast if you want to watch it."
Hitoshi, limply bent over the back of the couch like a wilted dandelion, sighs and throws his arms forward and slowly stands back up. Izuku dashes away at the hum he gives, and he walks into the kitchen. He rolls a few drawers open, looking for a knife. He quickly locates a cutting board and sets it on the counter, but there are no knives.
So Hitoshi opens the fridge to grab the onions he wants to slice (Izuku can find the knives for him when he gets back down) but frowns at the sight. Inside there are two, no, three pieces of tupperware with rice, and a jar of pickled vegetables. Near the bottom are eggs, and in the produce drawer there are carrots, spring onions, cucumber, and a head of white cabbage. In the door, there is butter, a small bottle of milk, a bottle of sake?, and another jar of pickled vegetables.
Izuku tumbles down the steps and makes his way to the food, but hesitates at the look from Shinso.
"I wanted to cut up some onions but there's no knives. And dude, sake? Where's all your food?"
The green-haired boy blushes and winces, his nose scrunching up in displeasure. "Th-that's my m-m-mom's. Um, and I'm…not sure? We're about to eat some. I have tea if you want."
Hitoshi doesn't look satisfied at the answer. And he isn't. "So what you meant to say was that we're getting blasted tonight."
A choke, and Izuku shoots his friend a shocked look. "We..I-I mean, we can't! It's still th-there because-"
Hitoshi chuckles and crosses his arms, leaning onto the counter beside him. "Because you're too scared to touch it. I'm shocked by your hypocrisy on laws sometimes, bean sprout."
Izuku pulls two bowls from a cupboard and spoons equal amounts of rice in each, then slides an over-easy egg on top. Chopsticks are pushed into the taller teen's hands.
"Thanks."
Izuku gives his friend a soft smile and takes his own bowl. "No tea?"
Shinso shakes his head. "Coffee." He watches Izuku quickly dig into his food, stabbing the yolk and stirring it into his rice. It's good to see the boy eating, but uneasiness has settled into Hitoshi's bones.
"For real though," he starts "are you having trouble getting food? You know my fosters have a shit-ton–" he pauses as Izuku looks up at him, eyes wide in what looks like surprise and…fear? Izuku chews the massive bite in his mouth and swallows well before he should to respond.
"N-no! Wh-why? I think I have plenty in there right now. S-sometimes I c-can't get eggs, and milk is pretty hard, but I always have en-nough."
"Why can't you get eggs?"
Izuku bites his lip. "B-because they're expensive?"
Hitoshi stares at his friend. Who has an offensively confused face at Hitoshi's entire line of questioning. It makes the taller teen's heart hurt, especially as he holds a bowl of Izuku's very limited amount of food.
"Izuku, a dozen eggs is only 200 yen."
Izuku is beet-red now, and he looks at his bowl (now-empty) with an unfocused gaze. He looks utterly ashamed.
"You d-don't need to worry about m-my expenses, I d-do okay."
Shinso watches the boy place his bowl into the sink and rinse it thoroughly with shaking hands. He hates that he's not sure why the green-haired teen's hands shake like that anymore. He sees it on patrol, he sees it when they're playing with cats at the cafe, he sees it when Izuku pulls his phone out. And if it's because his best friend can't afford to feed himself, well Shinso just doesn't feel like watching.
"I know how it feels when money's tight, that's all I'm saying. If 200 yen is hard-"
"It's 400." Izuku interjects. His face is still flushed, but this time his face looks agonized as the admission falls from his lips. "I pay 400 yen."
Shinso snorts. "Where the fuck are you shopping, you dork? The highest eggs and bread go is maybe 250 if you're in some snobby asshole area."
Izuku wrings his hands. "N-not for quirkless. We pay double."
The purple-haired boy stops, shocked. Because double may not be awful for eggs, but for absolutely everything…Shinso's stomach twists.
Izuku seems to hear Hitoshi's thoughts, because he immediately walks toward the entryway and begins to put his shoes on. "I told you, I make it work. Can we p-please just g-go now?"
Hitoshi hears how clipped, how frustrated the retort sounds, and he knows Izuku will probably apologize within the next hour for it. But it also holds shame.
"Yeah. I'm sorry, Izuku." He looks at his untouched bowl and feels guilty at the waste. He sets it in the sink and the two boys quickly head toward their training session.
"You didn't come last night, problem child. Watching your house all night is far worse than watching you two bash your heads in on patrol." The man speaks in a monotone, but there is humor in the words. He presses a cup to his lips and takes a draught of the steaming coffee there.
Izuku fiddles with his hands. "I'm sorry Aizawa-sensei. I…I fell asleep taking notes."
Before them, Hitoshi talks with Hizashi, who has been charged with working on 'optimizing' the uses of the teen's quirk. The hero turns a knob on his hearing aids and takes a few steps back.
"For school?"
Hitoshi speaks in a whisper, and Hizashi responds and immediately goes limp, still standing but, listlessly. Hitoshi lets go of the hero almost immediately.
"Oh. Well, not exactly. It's a ho-hobby, really."
Hizashi beams and gives the purple-haired teen a thumbs up, then walks further away, but doesn't turn the dial back any further.
"Over what?" The words are soft, and the dark-haired man gives a small smile as Hitoshi yet again gains control over the blonde man, lets go, and gets awarded another big thumbs up.
Izuku takes a moment to consider the question, then takes out his bag. In it are several notebooks. He reads the title of one, then the next. He chooses one and offers it to the hero beside him.
The man's large hands take the offered journal gently. A good choice, considering how anxious the transfer makes the middle-schooler. He reads the cover first, then files it open and reads the first page. It only takes a moment, and the man lets the book down.
"A hobby?"
Izuku is sweating now. "Um, y-yes, sensei. That's all." He watches as Aizawa flips to the next page, then the next, and feels his face heat up, his chest tighten. "I know they're silly, and rough, and-and I've never really shared them much b-before, but I, I like doing analyses, s-so if you'd have any s-suggestions…"
"Nothing in here is silly. It's all valuable information."
Izuku is quiet. Because that's…that's a new response and he has no idea how to process it.
"You've never shared them before."
Izuku shakes his head. The two look up as a loud 'YEAH' erupts from Hizashi. Hitoshi looks somewhat alarmed as he clutches his ears, but there's a broad grin on his face.
"Can I see more?"
Aizawa turns to Izuku now, dark eyes oddly earnest, body language strangely open and not at all hostile like Izuku anticipated. The boy quickly looks in his bag, and offers the only other book that he doesn't recall having any information on his own quirk.
Aizawa rests the first book on his lap and opens the next. Izuku watches and fiddles with his hands. They're blistering now, he notes. The past few days have been…challenging.
"May I borrow these?"
Izuku stares at Aizawa for a moment. When the man finally looks up and meets his gaze, raising an eyebrow and prompting a blush out of the boy, he responds.
"Um. You want to-to borrow, to borrow them?"
"Yes."
"Well. Um, will I…you won't. I-I mean. You won't hurt them right?"
Aizawa frowns. "No. That would be pointless. I would return them to you by tomorrow evening in this same condition."
Izuku looks at the two notebooks, then at the hero, and nods. "Okay, then. They're p-pretty much filled up anyway."
Aizawa looks at the boy, then hums. "Thank you for sharing them with me."
Izuku blushes, but nods quickly, turning to face the two others. He's ashamed and confused and nervous and proud all at the same time, and it shows as a grimace on his face.
Hitoshi and Hizashi approach, both with wide grins.
"It works with deafness! As long as they respond." Hitoshi beams as he looks between the sound hero and Izuku. He seems nervous, but filled with pride.
"Sign even works, so this little listener has a pretty nice range of attack. You're next, green bean!"
Izuku looks at Hitoshi, who smirks. "I told him you like that better than Izuku."
Present Mic looks offended, then apologetic. "Do you not? What do you prefer?"
The question floats over Izuku's head, his mind still reeling.
"B-but. I don't have a q-quirk to optimize." He looks for Aizawa to laugh, or Hizashi to change his mind.
"No, but you have potential that we need to quantify. And you're also going to join in Shinso's training."
Hizashi beams. "I'll cheer from the sidelines! Put my hands UP!" The man sits next to his husband and throws his hands in the air, pretending to shake pom poms. Aizawa rolls his eyes and stands, setting the notebooks next to his husband and moving out into the gym. He motions the two boys to follow.
"We're going to finish off Shinso's training for today by assessing the limits of his prompts. I can intervene if needed. Are you willing to participate, Midoriya?"
Izuku nods. "O-of course! I haven't gotten to experience y-your, your quirk for quite some time."
"We'll go over fighting techniques with you after we're done here. And we can start you off with some weapons training. You need more tools at your disposal to help with ranged fighting."
Izuku's heart swells at the idea, and within a few seconds he's practically bouncing with energy. Hitoshi ghosts a smile, then looks to Aizawa.
"I want to practice my hand-to-hand as well, sensei."
"And you will, but not today. Quirk training drains the body more than you think. We can start with you tomorrow."
Hitoshi feels the promise in those words, and lets the smile take shape. "Of course."
The dark-haired hero steps back and motions the two boys apart. They step away from one another, and have six or seven feet of space between them.
"Alright. Shinso, Midoriya. Are you ready?"
Both boys keep their eyes trained on one another. They nod together.
"Then let's begin. Shinso, take control."
"Aye, aye, cappin'."
Izuku giggles, then immediately goes slack, his pupils fading to a bright white, rimmed with brilliant green. Hitoshi, though hesitant to use his quirk in most situations, lets himself explore the feeling of Izuku's mind.
It's tight, like over-worked muscles. And strong.
"Ask him a question. Start with a yes or no."
Hitoshi thinks for a moment. "Am I taller than you?"
"...Yes."
Aizawa hums. "Ask him if he feels compelled to respond."
"Do you feel compelled to respond to my questions?"
Izuku takes a moment to process. "...Yes."
Hitoshi smirks.
"Orange or apple juice?"
"...Orange."
"Why?"
"Pulp."
Hitoshi's nose wrinkles. He turns to Aizawa, who also looks offended.
"That's fucking disgusting. Apple is the correct answer."
The green-haired teen doesn't respond.
"Ask him if he can lie."
Hitoshi frowns at that, but obeys.
"Okay. Well, can you lie to me right now?"
"...No."
"Was that the truth?"
"...Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"...Yes."
"Positive?"
"...Yes."
Aizawa clears his throat, catching Hitoshi's attention. He looks annoyed.
"I think that's clear enough. Now ask him something that doesn't have a binary answer. A what or why question would suffice."
Hitoshi reaches a hand up to his lips and chin to think. "Okay…um." His eyes scan over Izuku. He has a lot of questions. But which one?
"What were you doing when we first met?"
Izuku's mind suddenly feels difficult to control. Hitoshi winces, but retains control. He'd have to tell Aizawa-sensei and Hizashi-sensei about the change. Perhaps it had something to do with the open-ended question?
"...Scouting."
"For what? You never really told me."
"...Places to kill myself."
Hitoshi reels, and he's about to let go of Izuku's mind and grab him in a tight hug–
"Don't let go of him."
"Fuck…" Hitoshi looks at his friend and feels his face contort in pain. His eyes burn. "Sensei, this is wrong…"
"This was unanticipated, but now for his safety, we need to know more. Okay?"
Hitoshi sniffles, his nose already filling with snot. "Okay."
Present Mic has already stood and walked over. He places a hand on Hitoshi's shoulder.
"Ask him if he's aware right now."
"Izu…are you aware right now?"
"...No."
"What will he do after you let him go?"
"What will you do after I let you go?"
"...Apologize."
"When he gets home?"
"What will you do when you get home?" The struggle to keep control is fierce now. Hitoshi wipes his nose and realizes there is blood in his snot.
"...Kill myself."
Aizawa opens his mouth to ask another question but Hitoshi is already speaking voice fragile and wobbly.
"Why? I'm here, you have me and Aizawa-sensei and Hizashi-sensei and your weird mentor dude Toshinori-sensei–" Aizawa and Hizashi both stiffen at that "and we all want to help you and enjoy being around you and, and we all care about you!"
"...It won't matter."
Hitoshi's face is wet and the knot in his chest grows tighter around his heart and everything in him hurts at the words.
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"Shinso–"
"...It won't matter because I've tried before–"
"Shinso that's enough." The pressure is gone and Izuku stops. Hitoshi looks away from Izuku for a second to look at Aizawa, whose hair is drifting back down to his shoulders. The man is walking toward his friend.
"Midoriya, can you hear me?"
The green-haired boy looks lost. "Y-yes, sensei."
"You're going to stay with me and Hizashi tonight, okay?"
Izuku looks up at the dark-haired hero's face, then to Hizashi's, then to Hitoshi's. Each is concerned, and two are wet with tears.
"Why?"
Aizawa's face looks pinched. "We're worried about you, Problem Child."
Izuku turns to the others. "But I'm fine, what…did you t-tell them about this morning?" He's looking at Hitoshi with confusion.
"No, that's not–"
Izuku's breath is faster. "Then why? What d-did I say?"
"I don't want to lose my best friend, Izu." Hitoshi sobs, and wipes his face again. "You said you w-were going to kill yourself when you got home!"
Ice stops Izuku's blood, and he pales, white as spider silk.
"Hey little listener, it's going to be okay. Shouta's gonna' make sure he's okay, alright?"
Izuku flinches when a hand lands on his shoulder. What had he told them? Did they know? Did they know about his quirk? Did they hate him for it? Think he didn't deserve it?
He knows he doesn't deserve it, but it's his and he needs to make use of it, not waste it. He couldn't waste it. He can't waste it…
"I'm sorry" he squeaks out, because his throat feels clamped shut and there's hardly any air now, and he can't apologize without air and they must hate him now.
"Midoriya, there's nothing to apologize for, we're just worried about you. Can you try taking a breath for me?"
The voice is deep but sounds muffled, far away. Izuku curls up and his mouth moves to apologize but no sound leaves him. He's worrying them. He's such a useless Deku.
"Izuku, you need to breathe. Can you feel the taps?"
Taps. The boy feels something on his knee, and it's steady…
"Kid, I need you to take a breath."
Izuku tries, he really does, but it doesn't come. His head is light. He's scared. He just wants to go home and pretend this never happened…
"Fuck, 'Zashi he's not responding."
The admission sets Hitoshi's tears into higher gear. Hizashi rubs his back and keeps his face in front of the boy, blocking his view of the other two. "It's okay Sho, he'll just knock himself out. You're doing great, love."
Aizawa nods. "Just focus on the taps, kiddo. Relax, it's just me and you."
Right. The taps. Izuku tries to find them again, past the buzzing and tingling in his fingers and toes. They appear at his knee.
Tap–two three…tap–two three…
It's a waltz. Izuku likes waltzes.
"Good job, kiddo. Now keep focus and try to breathe with me okay?"
The man grabs his hand, noting the bloody blisters for later, and rests it on his chest, taking a deep breath in.
Izuku tries, and unlike the other times, it scrapes past the tightness in his windpipe. It's a terrible, beautiful sound.
"That's it, you're doing great, Izuku."
Izuku takes another gasp, then another, as he realizes just how cold and burning and hungry his body is for air.
"Remember the taps kiddo."
Izuku nods, or thinks he does. He gulps in air less hungrily, and squeezes the hand around his. He receives a small, a gentle squeeze back.
"Th-three f-four- three four."
"Three four?"
Izuku nods. "The–" deep breath "the t-t-taps-s. 'S a w-w-wa-waltz tim-time sig-ture."
Aizawa snorts and turns to Hizashi, who gives the barest hint of a smile.
"That's right, Problem Child. Now keep breathing with me, alright?"
Izuku tries. And after a few minutes (no one tells him how long it's been, but Aizawa is okay with spending twenty minutes on the floor if it helps), his body grows tired. Even still hearing his friend's quiet sniffles.
"How are you feeling?"
Izuku looks up at the dark-haired hero. His eyes are cutting, but gentle. Izuku doesn't often see concern from adults. He hasn't since his mother died.
"Um. I'm okay n-now." He bows his head away. "I'm s-sorry."
"Apology unaccepted. Do you remember our conversation about panic attacks?"
Izuku feels his eyes dampen. "Y-yes, sensei."
"Then you know it's illogical to apologize."
"R-right."
"Sho, don't intimidate the little listener!"
"He shouldn't apologize for things he can't control." The man lets go of the boy's hand now. "Do you have everything you need for the night, Problem Child?"
Izuku glances away from the man, instead looking toward Hitoshi. Before he can ask, the other boy responds, "I'm staying too."
"Of course! I can set up a movie and get you both comfy for the night!"
"It's 1pm, 'Zashi, take a breather."
Izuku's eyes remain trained on his friend. "Um, I don't have m-much of a choice, do-do I?" The dark-haired pro doesn't respond. "Okay. I don't n-need much. S-so, it's okay."
"We just want you to be safe, little listener. What kind of heroes would we be if we left you alone after that?"
Izuku winces. That. Was that referring to his weaknesses? Referring to his suicidal thoughts? His anxiety? The danger he poses to himself, or others? The inconvenience he would cause otherwise?
"I understand."
Aizawa helps the boy up, and watches as his guard returns. His reluctance for close contact reemerging. He isn't so convinced that the boy truly understands, but lets it be.
God knows these problem children needed a break.
"SLEEPOVER!"
Everyone winces. Hizashi has incredible control over his quirk. He's just loud at times.
"Now is not the time. You're insufferable."
"And you LOVE IT!" Hizashi beams, pointing finger guns at his husband. Surprisingly, there seem to be little hearts emanating from his fingertips.
Perhaps a bit of humor could relax the two teens. Hizashi always has such brilliant ideas. And he's so good with kids.
"I love you for your body, nothing more."
Hizashi shrieks and blushes bright red. "Sho! There are children!"
Aizawa frowns at that, but says nothing as he leads the group out of their training gym. Hizashi is trailing, keeping an eye on both boys.
Because Hizashi is right. They're nothing more than children. Who hurt and struggle and want to die to escape the world they've been tossed into, but struggle with every breath to overcome.
It's a battle he's known since becoming a pro. It's one he's fought since Oboro died.
It's a battle for warriors…
And they're just children.
