In 1999, a prophet known only as "the Original" foretold a calamity that would shake the very foundations of human society, finding only a few disciples who heeded his warnings. Although the scientific community was disappointed then embarrassed, the world's superpowers declared a state of emergency.
On an otherwise unremarkable day, every electronic device capable of communicating information—television, radio, the internet—was suddenly invaded. For several hours, the entire planet experienced what appeared to be an odd form of sentience, life. Across every network, on every device, in every language, a single message was broadcast: "In a matter of days, humanity will crumble."
Several days later, all electronic devices ceased working, and machines of all types began to malfunction, and humans quickly began to panic. Then, at that moment, several cities around the world were struck by natural disasters—some of them wiped completely off the map.
In the wake of this devastation, humanity had felt the "divine will", and began to believe in some sort of higher order. An investigation showed that the creature had attempted to manifest itself through electronic circuitry. As a result, in an emergency summit, the United Nations banned all electronic devices, effective immediately. Despite requiring an overhaul of nearly every industry, few objected to the changes.
With the technology that had supported it now gone, human society quickly devolved into chaos.
Food and water were in short supply, as transporting them became next to impossible.
The framework of human culture and society began to deteriorate and collapse.
Though just when times seemed to be at their darkest, when hope was in short supply: The Original returned.
The Original-who people would begin to refer to as 'The Savior'- returned with his disciples.
The Savior and his 'Apostles' had already made preparations for a technology-free world and set to work on restoring human civilization and culture.
Their swift and efficient relief earned them immediate support and thousands of new followers, leading to the foundation of the Sanctus Populi in 2008. They taught Magic to the people, thus halting the social collapse, and governments around the world began to research practical applications of this new power source. The Apostles were dispatched across the globe as "special ambassadors" to spread their knowledge to the masses.
In 2010, the UN declared sorcery and magic the new standard, and called for all nations to dismantle their traditional weapons and technology.
Over the next several decades, the UN and the Sanctus Populi worked hand in hand to rebuild the world's infrastructure and bring food, medicine, power, employment, and education back to the rest of the world.
Halfway through the 21st century, mankind succeeded in developing a natural, limitless energy supply, and brought about the Age of Magic. Science and industry, sources of environmental pollution and weapons of mass destruction, were thus outlawed. However, the abolition of technology did little to soothe mankind's suffering. A war erupted, fueled by rapidly developing magical theory, that saw the birth of Gears—powerful biological weapons produced by fusing human and animal DNA with magic.
America, the powerful military state that produced the Gears, monopolized the manufacturing process, bringing countless other lands under its control.
The Gears were seen as little more than slaves, weapons for the use of subjugation.
Among their ranks, a rebel appeared and announced herself to be self-aware.
Her name was Justice.
She gathered an army of fellow Gears and declared war on all mankind.
Despite heavy initial casualties, Humanity put aside its differences and formed the Holy Order of Sacred Knights.
Thus began the 100-year war known as the Crusades…
July 10th, 2188
A woman with pink hair walked across a field.
"Otanomi mousu, otanomi mousu: sotsuji nagara, meifu wa izuko?"
Her left hand rested on the blade to her side, and the sleeve to her right flowed loosely in the wind.
Her hair was worn in a ponytail, two tufts of hair at the front of her head pointing upward like a cat's ears.
Her gait was confident, chest pushed forward and swaying with every step. On her shoulders, a black gakuran hung and swayed like a cape, the kimono that she wore under it was an eye-catching red, black, and white with its right sleeve torn.
"Gedou ga waraeba, tani ga naku. Shogyou ni rachi naki sata areba, madou no shimatsu wo ukeoi itasu."
Her left eye was closed with a scar over it, protected by a goggle-like eyepatch, her right eye's peach-colored iris surveyed the area around her.
"Onore wa birou no sanpinzamurai. Shidou shinibana muyou no shozon."
The pink-haired samurai stopped in her tracks, turning and giving the shamisen-strumming young man behind her a dirty look.
His right eye was covered by a black eyepatch, his green left eye danced with mirth.
His green hair was pulled back into a ponytail, though it was still messy.
When he stowed his shamisen… somewhere, his right arm rested on the blade to his side.
His kimono was a clear patchwork job, different shades of green, ranging from forest green to mint, obviously stitched into the sleeves and chest area.
Looking closer at him, one could note that his left arm was notably prosthetic.
Wooden and mechanical, wrapped in bandages, it was quite obvious that this arm was not of his original set.
"The hell're you doin'?"
"Narrating."
"Well, stop it. It's a pain in the ass."
The green-haired young man frowned and puffed his cheeks out, before seemingly coming to a realization and giving his companion a grin, "I'll stop for a kiss."
A beat of silence accompanied by an unamused stare followed his statement.
The swordswoman sighed, shaking her head, "Y'know what? Fine."
"Wait, really?"
The response caught the greenette by surprise.
The woman drew closer to him, "Close your eye."
"Huh?"
"Close your eye. You want your kiss, don't ya?"
Though he was surprised, and maybe slightly suspicious, he complied-
THWACK!
-and went flying several feet after something impacted his cheek sharply.
When he landed with a dull thud, he opened his eye and offered the smirking rōnin a mild glare.
"Really?"
"Really, what?"
His expression shifted. He puffed his cheeks out and crossed his arms.
He wasn't pouting, that would be ridiculous. He was simply showcasing his indignation.
"Stop poutin' and get up, we got work to do."
"I'm not pouting!"
Despite his cry of outrage for the assumption, he pushed himself up and walked over to his fellow cyclops' side.
He rubbed his cheek as they turned and stood back-to-back.
"Did you really have to hit me so hard, Tsuma?"
He took up his still-sheathed blade in his prosthetic hand. Thumb pushing lightly on the tsuba, he leaned forward slightly, his gaze lazily drifting from side to side.
He could hear his companion shifting behind him.
"Pfft, I've definitely hit ya harder. And what've I told ya? Cut that 'tsuma' crap. It's Baiken to you, ya little shit."
He could hear them shuffling in the tall grass around them, and if he could hear it, he was certain that Baiken could as well.
"Yeah, yeah. But if I'm gonna call ya Baiken, start callin' me by my name too. It's Izuku, ya hear? I-zu-ku."
The wind howled, the moon shone brightly above, and then for a mere moment, all was silent.
The grass parted, and suddenly, the two were surrounded.
Mankind knew they could not change society
So instead of reflecting on themselves, they blamed the beasts…
At least thirty men, all of them had their swords drawn.
This didn't seem to move either of the katana-wielding warriors in the center.
The lady rōnin chuckled, "Yeah, sure. Let's get to work… ya little shit!"
Heaven or Hell…
After that she set upon the men in front, sword drawn and slashing about with lethal efficiency.
Izuku's eye twitched.
"You little- Fine, I'll show you!"
He stared into the group in front of him, eye trailing, searching for something.
His gaze landed on a man at the forefront of the group, he almost smiled.
Target acquired.
He took a deep breath in and held it.
With his breath still held, he shifted his legs so that his right was in front and his left was in the back with the heel of his foot raised. His muscles tensed, and all at once, he kicked off slightly and exploded into movement.
His blade was out quicker than any average man could see. A flash of silver akin to that of a lightning strike streaked from the container holding it.
He was behind the foremost man who was recently in his sight, his blade rasped as he slid it back into his sheath, with a clink to sound it off.
THUD!
He heard as the man's head fell and hit the ground.
He knew without turning around that it was no longer connected to his neck or shoulders.
He turned to the others, who seemed shocked at the sudden display of speed.
His grin widened, the fight was only getting started.
LET'S ROCK!
He was still surrounded.
He could hear Baiken making short work of the group of men that she'd charged into.
There were around thirty men, likely closer to twenty-four if he counted the man that he'd decapitated and the men that his partner had taken out on her own.
Several of the previously hidden assailants around him had shaken themselves out of their stupor and had begun to charge him.
The one to reach him lashed out with a heavy two-handed swing, throwing most of his weight behind it, just as he reached the young man.
To his credit, he seemed to realize rather quickly that his target was no longer in the spot that he had struck.
Unfortunately, this realization did very little when coupled with the very sudden and tragic realization that his sword arm was severed from his body and had begun to pinwheel up toward the sky.
CLANG!
While the man registered the fact that his arm had left his body and began mustering the energy to scream, the ponytailed lad behind him deflected another sword strike from one of the man's compatriots, staggering his enemy and forcing him to stumble back into one of the men behind him, causing the both of them to fall in a tangled heap of flesh and steel.
He advanced quickly and raised his blade-
SHINK!
When he brought it down there were two less men in the scrum.
He quickly pulled the blade back and returned to his stance.
He held his blade in a reverse grip. A strange way to wield a katana, for sure, but one that well suited a more reactionary style like his, keeping his off-hand completely free.
CLASH! CLANG!
The young man's blade lashed out like steel lightning, parrying two more blade strikes from his left and right, following through and striking them both down with quick and deep slashes across their necks.
The assault wasn't done there, as Izuku quickly jinked to his right, before raising his foot-
STOMP!
And bringing it down hard on the spine of the blade thrust towards his back.
He whipped around, delivering a vicious elbow to the man's jaw.
SNAP!
The would-be assailant fell like a rock, hitting the ground with a dull thud, neck twisted at an unfortunate angle.
He could hear the noise from Baiken's direction beginning to die down. He was definitely behind.
Six down. Let's pick up the pace.
His left arm twitched and a small silver ball, no bigger than a marble, fell into his hand.
The wind wooshed in his ears as he ducked yet another horizontal slash, rolled to the side of a helm-splitting hack, and deflected another violent cleave with his blade.
CLANG!
He raised his left hand quickly, bringing it down even quicker as the ball flew from his hand and-
POOF!
A cloud of dark smoke exploded from the point of impact, obscuring all from view.
The three men caught in the plume began to hack and cough, dazed and confused.
Kch'TING!
"Hibana."
That moment of confusion quickly lent itself to terror as the cloud began to ignite and-
BOOM!
Izuku flew up toward the sky, shit-eating grin and gunpowder residue present on his face.
He could see four men remaining, they were the ones who didn't get caught in the explosion.
They stood together, staring at the aftermath of the blast, swords at their sides.
Let's finish this.
A magic circle appeared under his foot and he bent, bracing against it.
He took in a long and deep breath, and then kicked off of it.
At the top of his lungs, he called out, "TAMAYA!"
In unison, the quartet's heads snapped up in the direction of the shout.
The green-haired swordsman shot toward them like a bullet.
The one at the forefront stood his ground, blade poised to block a heavy strike.
As the falling rōnin finally reached him, he braced himself, eyes closing for a fraction of a second.
CLASH!
And in that fraction of a second, the tip of his sword disappeared.
SHINK!
It would quickly be found moments later, lodged in the back of his neck.
As he fell forward, dead, and his companions moved to defend themselves, the one in the rear noticed that the green-haired man was no longer there.
And then, he heard it, right next to his ear.
The sound of metal rasping against wood.
CLINK!
He watched in horror as his two remaining companions collapsed, covered in wounds.
"Today's not your day, is it?"
He turned to see a finger pointed right at his face, a clearly wooden finger, connected to a wooden hand.
BANG!
There was a flash, and then, nothing.
SLASH!
He blew away the wisp of smoke that rose from his flipped fingertip, and looked over at the other one-eyed samurai on the field.
She looked back at him, eyebrow raised at his pleased expression.
"Hell're you smirking at?"
"You. Like what you saw?"
"Want another kiss?"
"Don't threaten me with a good time."
The pink-haired samurai started walking off.
"H-hey, wait up!"
After one hundred years of brutal war, the Crusades came to an end when the Order sealed Justice inside an impenetrable dimensional prison, and the masterless Gears were rounded up and destroyed. Afterwards, the Holy Order was then dissolved.
In 2180, five years later, the walls of Justice's dimensional prison unexpectedly began to erode. Assessing the threat before them, the world's leaders quickly organized an international fighting tournament to select members for a proposed Second Sacred Order. Few took notice of its suspicious rules—permission to shed blood during the matches—, but the prize was tempting:
"The victor gets to make a single wish... any wish at all"
July 11th, 2188
They were headed home.
Under the comforting warmth of the evening sun, they were almost back to the colony.
It had taken two days of travel to handle that phony contract, but Izuku was glad that he got it out of the way quickly.
Even more so, he was glad that he had a partner with him that time.
It had been a long while since he and Baiken had traveled alone together.
It was nice.
Familiar.
Familiarity was nice.
Of course, the niceness may be somewhat diminished when one realizes that the familiarity had come to be due to someone trying to con and kill him.
Though, now that I think about it…
"Hey, Tsuma-"
"Stop calling me that."
The response was likely automatic at that point, so the greenette just pushed on.
"Why'd you decide to come with me this time? You never wanted to before."
"..."
She didn't answer him immediately, the only indication of her having heard him being the brief look that she gave him with her good eye.
He didn't rush her.
Didn't need to.
He knew she'd answer when she was good and ready.
And attempts to push her to move any quicker would probably get him punched again.
Well, punched or…
His gaze drifted to the sword at the woman's hip.
Yeah…
So, he waited. Keeping pace with her leisurely walking speed.
She didn't keep him waiting long.
It took her maybe a minute, maybe a few seconds more, but she still broke the silence herself.
"How're your ribs?"
That… wasn't the answer that he was expecting.
Granted, he wasn't sure answer he should've expected from the lady samurai, but-
Well, that was unimportant.
He had asked a question and received one.
In his experience, when someone answered a question of his with a question of their own, they were either attempting to hide something or make some larger point by speaking indirectly.
In the seven years that he'd known her, he'd never known Baiken to do either.
Either way, someone's question had to be answered or the conversation was going to die there.
"Honestly… they feel great. Better than before they broke."
Patting his torso slightly with a grin, he gave his companion his answer.
"You sure? No pain? Aches? Nothin' like that?"
"Nothing like that."
She scrutinized him for a moment.
He stayed cool.
After all, he was telling the truth.
When the moment ended, she did seem to be somewhat satisfied.
In the back of his mind, the faint feeling of remembrance nudged at him.
He let it through.
Harsh words said to him in a cold tone rushed forth from the recesses of his mind.
"Follow behind if you want, I don't give a damn. Just don't get in my way."
Just as quickly as they were there, they were gone, leaving Izuku with the pleasant image of a woman with an expression of satisfaction.
The small smile was leagues ahead of the scowl that she used to have on her face all of the time.
It made him smile as well.
Meeting Delilah's been good for her.
Though his question still hadn't been answered.
"So… my question, now?"
He heard her sigh.
"You've gotten good with that sword. Real good."
He blinked.
That was a random compliment.
It still made him pretty happy, though.
"That arm too. You've been improving since you got it. It's impressive."
His face felt warm.
That was probably the most praise that the woman had showered him with at once since he'd known her.
If he was a dog, his tail probably would've started wagging.
"You've gotten way better at this since you started. Better at handlin' the weight, better with your footwork, better at fightin', better at killin'…"
That was where he sobered slightly.
He had an idea of where the conversation was headed then.
He decided to let her continue.
"You decided to start followin' me and help me find That Man so that you could find your way home. I decided to let you, because I figured you wouldn't last long either way. But you did… And now, That Man's dead."
He hated being right.
"To be completely honest, when ya stopped talking about gettin' home, I thought you'd just stay at the colony with the old man. Grow up and find a nice girl to settle down with. But then you started leavin' on your own. Made a name for yourself. Got real cozy with the Illyrian royalty. Now, just about everybody in the colony knows who you are. Ya got girls lining up to take a shot at ya. Kids picking up sticks and coverin' one of their eyes to play the hero that you've made yourself. Honestly, you've come far from the snivelin' little brat that I found on the side of the road."
"If you're gonna sit there and cry, I'm just gonna move on ahead. I don't have time for this."
Another memory.
He really was pretty pathetic back then, wasn't he?
Granted, he was barely eleven, but still.
"Despite all that though, I could see somethin'. This strange look in your eye. One that I knew pretty damn well, myself."
A look…?
He was
"It was this urge… a thirst almost… a thirst for blood…"
Huh?
"Not the kind where you were just gonna go out slaughtering families or anything, if I'd seen that, I would've killed you then and there. Nah, it was more like a vengeful kind of thirst. You were hunting for something. Someone."
Izuku kept pace with his companion, his expression neutral.
He didn't speak.
He knew she wasn't finished.
"Honestly, I don't know which one of us had it worse. I couldn't find the person I was hunting for, but you couldn't stop running into the person you were looking for. Don't think I don't notice how much deadlier that arm's gotten."
"..."
"I wanted revenge. For years, I fixated on the one thing that gave me purpose. I would cut down anything or anyone that got in my way. You got to see that firsthand."
Somehow, even as he stared ahead, he knew that her gaze was directed toward his left arm.
The stench of blood hung in the air. Steel glinted in front of him, stained red.
My arm…
It hurts… It hurts…
The blade rose high in his sight…
Before plunging straight d-
He blinked.
Yet another memory come forth, wholly unbidden.
He focused back on his companion.
"At some point, I gave up everything. My likes, my hobbies, my place in the world as a human being. I was content to live as a ghost in the world as it went by me. A self exile from time… Then I met you. Then Delilah. Anji, too. You just wouldn't leave me the hell alone."
"..."
"When I fight now, my blade feels lighter. Got nothing weighin' me down now. So how about you? You've been gearin' up for years to kill I-No. Now she's gone. So tell me, where do you wanna go from here?"
And there it was.
The question that he hoped he wouldn't be asked for a while longer.
Not until he had more time to think a lot of things through.
As it was, however, he had to confront it then.
Only a coward would hide from themselves.
Closing his eye, he took a deep breath in…
And slowly let it out.
When he finished, he began to speak.
"I… I'm not sure. To be completely honest… when Anji came back and said that I-No was dead, I heard him. I heard the words that had come out of his mouth. Knew what the words meant. I just… didn't know what they meant in regards to me."
He took another breath, opening his eye before letting it out once more and continuing.
"I had lost a goal. One that I'd been working towards for years. For a short while… I just didn't know what to do with myself. But now I know…"
"Keep moving forward! Your life only really ends when you find reasons to stop living it!"
He looked over at Baiken with a toothy grin.
"I've got nothing but choices now! I mean, Jam-san offered me a waiter job at her restaurant. Said something about 'cute famous boys bringing in business'. The P.W.A.B offered me a data analyst job if I wanted it. Leo-san even offered me a place on his personal guard! Though, uhhh… I'm not entirely certain what he'd have me doing if I were to join up."
He might've been a little lost before, but during his time on the hunt, he'd made a lot of friends.
A lot of good friends.
"Truth be told. I think I gave up on going back 'home' a long time ago. Because… This is my home. With you, the old man, Delilah, Anji, and everyone else. Wherever you guys are is a home to me. Because I love you!"
The pink-haired samurai was smiling still, though there was a hint of exasperation in it this time as well.
"Didn't tell ya to stop makin' jokes like that?"
"It's not a joke! I told you I'd say it every day until you believed me, remember?"
"I'm old enough to be your grandma."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"This conversation's over."
"Oh, c'mon."
"You're a kid, you can't even spell 'love'!"
"I'm not a kid! I'll be eighteen in less than a week."
"Hmph, please. We might as well just call you a slightly bigger kid."
"Oh, c'mon! Didn't you just say I've grown up a lot?"
"Not enough to handle all this."
"Says you, you never gave it a chance."
Izuku would've started sulking here had he not realized that that would entirely defeat his point.
So, he just held his tongue while absolutely not pouting.
There was a beat of silence.
He could see the colony in the distance.
More silence.
He could feel the warmth on his face from the evening sun.
The silence was broken.
"Look, say it to me again in four days… then we'll talk. Not a second before. Alright?"
Izuku's smile was wide enough to split his face.
"Oh, stop smilin' like that!"
His face was stuck like that for the rest of the walk.
The tournament was a trap, set by another Gear named Testament.
His plan was to weaken the Justice's dimensional prison and provide a blood sacrifice to assist in her release.
He engaged the champion of the tournament in combat, but was defeated.
Unfortunately, the Gear's own blood was all he needed to assist in Justice's complete resurrection.
She awoke, ready to fight. And the one to defeat her was the tournament's victor, Sol Badguy.
"Hey, Old Man. I'm back."
He was home.
He had parted ways with Baiken some time ago, the lady ronin returning to the home that she shared with their friend and charge, Delilah.
He returned to the home that he shared with an old priest that he'd met not long after arriving in the colony seven years before.
They'd come to live together under special circumstances, but Izuku didn't think he'd have it any other way.
"Welcome back. I've already started on dinner. You should eat and bathe. I imagine that'd be good for that soreness you're going to feel in the morning from all that walking."
"Yeah, and I'm hungry enough to eat the arm I've got left too. Onigiri's good for the moment, but it definitely doesn't beat your stew, Old Man."
Years ago, Izuku wouldn't ever have imagined being so rude, but the old priest never offered his name and the greenette had grown so used to calling him 'Old Man' that it would've felt strange calling him anything else at that point.
The old priest clearly didn't take offense to the nickname, seeing as he simply sat down at the low table with two bowls of steaming hot stew, sliding one across the table to where Izuku usually took his place.
Without another word, Izuku slid off his boots and placed them gently near the door before entering the home proper.
His pace was brisk as he crossed the floor and took his place at the table.
He offered a quiet word of thanks before digging into his stew with vigor.
He wasn't lying when he said that nothing ever quite beat the old priest's stew out on the road.
Except for Jam-san's fried rice, maybe, that's some pretty tough competition.
And so, four nights before his eighteenth birthday, Izuku Midoriya sat at home eating dinner with a man that he considered family and he was content.
Hey look, I posted another crossover before updating the thing I'm known for or the other crap that I've started. Damn, I'm living my best life.