Rule #6f: Never make excuses for your own failings
They'd been aimlessly meandering throughout the chilly backstreets of Deika City for some time now, just letting their feet take them where they pleased. It was not a comfortable silence that they found themselves in, it was more of an anxious-what-the-fuck-is-going-on kind of silence that made it hard to choke out any words without sounding like an asshole or like they were playing pretend. So, unable to come up with anything to say, Toru let her gaze wander over the scaffold-plastered ruins of Deika City.
It had only been a short while since the villain versus villain incident which had resulted in the destruction of the city, and the reconstruction was already coming along quite nicely, hence the scaffolds. Plagued by guilt at being tricked into such a scam, several heroes had volunteered their time to help rebuild the city which certainly helped matters (although it did put pressure on those who kept coming and going from the Paranormal Liberation Front's home base to not get caught, or at least have a convenient excuse up their sleeve). And although all of these heroes were just well-meaning people, several of the locals who remained in the city, were of the opinion that they no longer needed heroes there to help protect because they hadn't been there that day and they had done pretty well in protecting themselves without heroic aid. In a sense, they thought having the heroes here was like pouring salt into an already open wound; instead of the balm they were trying to be.
There were some on the other side of the scale, of course, who thought that the increased hero presence meant that the heroes knew what they did wrong and trying to fix it; not to mention, acting as a balm against any more villains who would dare to attack the already vulnerable city. In any case, many of those who were too stubborn enough to leave, kept sparing the lingering heroes these foul-mouthed scowls that looked like they could've buried you six feet under. And neither Aoyama nor Toru were spared from that treatment, despite clearly being students who were too young to run around, saving people of their own accord. But then again, logic rarely ever factored into people's grudges (see: Monoma & Bakugou).
And then her attention drifted from the city to her usually jubilant, and strangely subdued classmate. It was…weird and so wrong to see him like this; it was like a splinter she couldn't pull out. She knew it was there and she could feel it digging beneath her skin, but she just couldn't grab a hold of it and pull it out, no matter how much she scrabbled for a hold. In fact, if Toru really thought about it, Aoyama had been acting pretty strangely recently but she thought that was because of the encroaching exams that hung over their heads or the infamous luck of Class 1-A, not this.
But if she thought back on it, his entire jovial demeanour seemed to start crumbling around the time of the Cultural Festival. Oh sure, he'd worn brittle smiles to dissuade any probing questions or lingering eyes, but there had been sadness in his eyes. (How had she not noticed it then?). Everyone else had been worried too, but for very different reasons and ever since that Christmas Party, she didn't think she could remember seeing him genuinely smile even once. It was unnerving to say the least, especially from someone who was usually so sunshine happy.
And wasn't that a scary thought? If Aoyama really was the UA traitor then that called a whole other can of worms into question. If he was the traitor, then that meant he would've of likely been involved with All For One and the League of Villains since the beginning of school, or even before then. He would've of been the one to tell the villains about their excursion to the USJ facility where they first encountered real villainy. He would've been the one to tell them about the training camp out in the middle of the woods where they first encountered real terror. About Kamino where she & Bakugou had been taken and the impending hero invasion-slash-rescue, about the internships where Stain the Hero Killer was left to run rampant until she tore out his heart, about the operation to save Eri, about the dorms that had been constructed to avoid such an information leak and everything in between. So much had happened because of the anonymous UA traitor, and now that it—he—was staring her in the face, Toru had a bit of trouble swallowing the truth of it all.
Which was a little bit of a strange notion in of itself, considering her own history in that dark-tinted arena. She, being a student—and later, aid—in the death of Koro-sensei the Grim Reaper, being the one to eventually slay Stain the Hero Killer, being the one who indirectly murdered several PLF grunts (was that considered manslaughter?), there was all of the heads that rolled in the Yoshiwara district and let's not forget the whole ordeal with the nomus and Oishii as well. Between the two of them, Toru easily had the dirtiest hands, and—let's be honest—if anyone in their class was contending to be the traitor, then she was…well, she was the best option.
And when she looked at it like that—like she was looking at her through her classmate's eyes—Toru suddenly saw just how psychotic her actions may have of seemed. However well-meaning they may have of been—and they were well-meaning, just a little…er, violent—she was like the bang to Aoyama's flash. In retrospect, it was kinda hard not to see how…well, how villainous she'd been. For what else were you supposed to call it when you had more blood on your hands than the average petty criminal?
"So…" Toru began awkwardly, arms swinging idly at her sides as they walked, not really paying attention to where they were going. Her voice cut through the tense silence, making Aoyama jump at the sudden noise and whilst in any other situation it would've of been funny, right now it was just sad. It was like he expected her to hit him or something, instead of calmly walking at his side.
"O-oui…?" Aoyama stuttered, voice uncharacteristically wobbly and quiet.
"How…how'd you…? I mean, why…why were you…?" She wasn't really sure how to phrase the oh-so-important question, but that was okay because Aoyama seemed to know what she was trying to say.
But instead of verbally replying, his face sort of crumpled into itself like a wet tissue.
He sniffled wetly, a sound that he tried to smother into his armoured sleeve. The normally jubilant blonde made a noise like he was trying to speak, fumbled over his own voice and dropped it like a mishandled textbook. He drew in a sharp, wet breath and choked on it, lodging somewhere deep in the back of his throat like a phlegmy golfball. When Tory stepped around and in front of the blonde, placing herself in his path and, in turn, forcing him to stutter to a stop, she had to tilt her head up to met his gaze. His face had become awash with colour and razor-sharp clarity that was mirrored by the shimmering afterimage of each motion painted in white.
Deika City stretched out behind him like a landscape painting, infinite and crumbling, and awash with wintry lights. Aoyama's eyes looked like reflections of those snow-laden crests, glistening in brilliant blue. Liquid gathered along his lower eyelids like glittering oceans and something within the blonde seemed to break a little further at the concern clearly painted in Toru's body language. The way his expression crumpled seemed to happen in slow motion too. The corners of his eyes crinkled up at the edges, and then his nose scrunched up like he'd smelt something foul. His upper lip curled back to reveal a line of pearly white teeth and his jaw was so tight that it looked like it hurt for him to breathe. It was like watching ice shatter or glass break.
"Aoyama?"
And then Aoyama exploded into Midoriya-patented tears.
Being different is scary.
Aoyama Yuga had been born Quirkless, much like the other twenty per-cent of the world's population that nobody seemed to care for, but it didn't bother him. It didn't seem like that big of a deal, his parent's however, disagreed. He was raised in wealth, in luxury, but still did not have the ONE thing that even the poorest of children did: a Quirk, and that concerned them. As two scions to two equally upper class, wealthy families, his parents knew that a slight—ANY slight—against their families would make them look bad. And although Yuga was not ill in the most common of senses, his parents still did everything they could to cure him of his ailment. For being born without a Quirk in this world, was surely an ailment of some kind.
And though they raised him in love and light, in the lap of luxury without a care for the lesser things in life, there were still times when things were taut. Like a bow pulled too tight or a piano key that sounded just-this-side-of-flat. They would say things, things no child should hear, but hear them he did, and internalise them, even more so. "We wanted nothing but your happiness!"
"We did it because you were born without a Quirk and we didn't want you to be shunned by everyone else!"
"We wanted you to live out your dreams!"
"If we knew about this beforehand, we never would have—!"
"But the moment you took it—! From that moment you shook his hand—!"
"There's NO escaping him—! He is inevitable!"
"SAVE US, YUGA! SAVE YOUR PARENTS!"
"Listen to him, Yuga! Do as he says!"
"Don't you love us?"
"Yuga, don't you want to be like everyone else?"
"Don't you want to make Maman and Papan proud?"
That's why, even whilst they tried their best to accomodate the happy blonde's misgivings, they wished for NOTHING MORE than his true and utter success. For if their heir was a success, so too, would their families be. So, by the time Yuga was six years old, they had exhausted all possible branches, until one day, when they head a rumour and suddenly there was hope blossoming in their hearts once more. There was a man—benevolent and charitable—who could DISTRIBUTE Quirks like candy, in return for your alliance and service.
There was no question, they had to track him down and take him up on his offer. And so, at the ripe old age of six years old, Aoyama Yuga was granted a Quirk. Light and glittery, just like the boy who wielded it, it was a flashy thing that promised to be powerful if he could accept it and prove its full potential. But the Quirk he was given was not compatible with his body, not then and not now. But after all that they had been through, Yuga didn't dare speak out against them. Not when him having a Quirk made his parents SO damn happy.
Instead, he swallowed his fears and dragged himself through this new strange thing that seemed to hate him so. And thus, his dream changed from the childish plaything, into something with hard edges and soft dreamy tones. He vowed to become a hero—to use this Quirk so charitably given—to be a hero that showed COMPASSION and SYMPATHY unlike that he could not truly comprehend (oh, his parents loved him, there was no doubt about that, they just cared for their images more). His parents were OVERJOYED at that, and MORE than happy to support him in this new endeavor (for what greater pride could there be in this world for their son to be a hero?).
Until one day, just as their rose-tinted glasses had settled back into place, just as they were returning back to the comfort of normalcy once more, HE came a-knocking. There was no question of service, there was no way out, they were doing this. YUGA was doing this. He had shaken hands with the Devil, a deal had been made and now he had to keep up his end of the bargain or suffer the consequences.
["There's a rumour floating around that All Might's going to become a teacher. Make sure you get into UA"]
And he was going to become a hero, so of COURSE he was going to UA, it was the best hero school out there! But if Yuga thought that getting accepted into the school was the only thing he would have to do, then he had been wrong. So, very, very wrong. With each passing day there, it took him EVERY ounce of his willpower to prevent himself from exposing what he had done—what he would do. Yuga was crushed by this immense guilt that suffocated him every single second of the day, drowning him in despair so deep that it was hard to fake the jubilance he was known for.
And when the blonde went crying to his parents about it, they just brushed him off with worry colouring their eyes and smiles straining their faces. He'd done it; he'd chosen this life, so there was no going back now. But still, when eavesdropping on his beloved parents, their words behind those closed doors revealed more about what they could not say to his face. They revealed how they really felt, just like they had done all those years ago when they had tried to find a cure for his 'affliction'
["If we knew this would happen beforehand, we never would have of done it! Not in a million years!"]
["But the moment Yuga took a Quirk from All For One, we were already under his influence, and once you have anything pertaining to All For One, once you shake that devil's hand, there is NO escaping him"]
["We'll never be free"]
And when All For One was captured in Kamino, he had made the mistake of thinking he was FINALLY, blessedly free. But again, he was wrong. There was no such thing as escape from this nightmare of a man. So Yuga continued to struggle on. If not for himself, then for them. For his parents who supported him through thick & thin.
["Tell me when the class will be isolated"]
In order to make them happy.
["Tell me where the training camp will take place"]
For them, he would do anything.
["Don't forget, you are nothing but MY tool. Entertaining, but disposable"]
Because being different is scary.
With a great bone-shaking shudder and a quiet, jagged keen, Aoyama broke. He didn't quiet lean into Toru's embrace, but he didn't resist it either when she pulled the taller boy in close. His legs buckled beneath him, wobbly and unsure as the two dropped to the ground in the middle of the sidewalk, mindless of the frosty pavement and any stares pointed their way. Aoyama didn't protest when she clung on tighter, pulling him so close to her chest that they had practically moulded together. There was a trembling under her skin that felt like her insides were turning to fluid and her eyes burnt as she listened to Aoyama's quiet tale.
He sounded like he was breathing underwater with each sob. Her own breath felt like fire, as if she'd just inhaled a supernova. Scorching hot and angry hatred that seared through her veins, pulsating both hot and cold against ribs like a molten tide that refused to ebb. Inwardly, Toru cursed herself. She'd never noticed, never seen, just how much pain he was in. How could she be so self-centred to not notice when a classmate was in trouble? But—but Aoyama would've spoken up if he thought his parents were lying about their reason behind their deal with All For One, right?
[Their deal with the Devil]
Aoyama whined pitifully in the back of his throat—head pressed in close to the hollow of Toru's throat as his tears peppered her shirt—when Toru's fingers heated up with her Quirk, emotions running wild in turn. But he didn't try to move or loosen her toasty grip that was bordering on painful; it was good, it was grounding. The whole thing was just…it was so much to swallow that Toru found herself floundering once more. Aoyama had admitted outright to being the UA traitor, but she still found it hard to swallow. (How could he…?) But that didn't matter right now. Not now, not yet. What did matter was that Aoyama was hurt—had been hurt—and she hadn't known. (Maybe that wasn't as much of her fault as she was making it out to be, but at least she knew now).
Closing her eyes did nothing to ease the warm pulses of light that surged through her body, or the way that even the darkness behind her lids flickered and spun with phantom images of his clear despair and guilt (it was like looking in a mirror). But it was better than keeping them open and seeing all of…that. It was all too much, his traitorous status, the blood on her hands and all mixed up together in this dizzying concoction of rage, sadness and guilt that flooded her with uncomfortable warmth. The sidewalk beneath them seemed strangely unstable, but Aoyama remained a shivering anchor in her arms and each of his shuddering breaths reminded her to suck in air instead of the fire in her lungs.
Usually when Toru & Aoyama did combo moves together, it felt like she was holding the sun in her hands. Now, it felt like she was holding a dying star.
