SO WE'RE BACK! IN BLACK! Cos goths are cool. Finally, the question will be answered, WHO IS IZUKU'S MENTOR? Well, for those who bet on Endeavor let me be the first to say.
Yah wrong. So very, very wrong.
Now to find the true answer, read on my good reading people!
After the confrontation with Lucifer, Izuku had been led away by his mother and his friends. Turned out that Hitoshi had already decided he was waiting for him after school no matter what, and the others had rallied to agree. The reason Izuku hadn't seen them, however, was because he had waited outside the school, not within it.
The advantage was that they had noticed Inko waiting in her car. While she had not spilled the details on why she was there, it soon became apparent that it was something big, something important.
Something that, when Izuku told the others about over Chiky Licky, they had collectively gasped.
He had filled them in on the details, deciding to simply let it all spill out of him like a tidal wave of poison that he had kept inside him for almost a week straight. How the hell did he used to go so long without telling anyone anything? It made him feel sick to talk about it all, and yet, there was a numbing calm to his heart afterward that made him feel as though he had unburdened his sins.
Like a man confessing to a priest.
"LIER!" The moment the words had left his lips, Dark Shadow's rage erupted across the room. The demon slammed their fists down upon the table as they glared hatefully at Izuku, almost knocking over Ochaco's drink, "YOU LIE, NEMESIS!"
They were gathered around his dining table, though they had been squashed in thanks to its small size. Inko had even been forced to drag out some folding chairs just to make sure that everyone had a seat.
The table was covered in fried chicken bones, packets of fries, some drinks and dipping sauces. The only exception was Fumikage, who had solidly kept to his vegetarianism and had gotten some kind of tofu-based meal that looked about as pleasant as it sounded. Izuku had barely touched his own food, quite frankly the smell of the fried food made his stomach turn, though he had consumed a lot of his coke. The sugar helped made him feel like he had some energy, even if he was just kidding himself.
"I'm not lying!" Izuku bitterly snapped back.
"Why would he lie?" Hitoshi quickly defended, "He has nothing to gain from it!"
"I-I can back up what he says," Inko quickly announced, utterly unsure of how to handle the strange, shadow-clad creature before her, "It's true, I-"
"THEN YOU'RE A LIER TOO!" Dark Shadow screamed, pointing a finger dangerously at the woman.
Fire was almost erupting from Izuku's hands before suddenly Dark Shadow yelped and was pulled back into Fumikage.
The crow-headed boy stood up and bowed deeply towards Inko, "I greatly, greatly apologize for Dark Shadow, Miss Midoriya. Please forgive me."
"Oh, that's- that's okay!" Inko stammered out, looking a tad pale, "… was that a- erm-"
"That's a demon, mom, yeah," Izuku half-mumbled out.
"Oh… I've never seen one before."
The fact that his mother had dated his father, the very King of Hell, and had never seen a demon still amazed Izuku. Though she had mentioned seeing Lucifer talk to someone who seemed to be completely clad in shadow with bone-white hair once and that his smile gave her the creeps.
"You're not missing much," Fumikage grumbled as he sat back down, still looking rather ashamed of himself.
There was a long, and heavy moment of silence from the table as everyone considered the gravity of the new situation.
"… so, you and Nemesis are the same?" Ochaco finally broke the silence, "Well, I mean, I guess that makes sense. Technically me and my quirk are the same person, I think."
"All our quirks are aspects of us," Tenya nodded suddenly, "They make up pieces of who we are. In the end, it does make sense that Izuku's power is just the same, even if it is fundamentally from a more unusual source."
"Do- do you hold it against me? I can understand if you do," Izuku mumbled out, his eyes still down, still watery without crying.
"No?" Hitoshi quickly answered for the whole table, and Izuku glanced up to see them nodding. He also saw his mother tear up at the show of friendship, though he looked back down soon after. "Why would we? Accidents happen, and even if Nemesis is a part of your soul or whatever, what happened those other times were still accidents."
"Brought on by a lack of balance and ignorance of your own situation," Fumikage coldly assessed, "But now you have a chance to move forward, to truly move forward."
"Exactly, so, what was on the note he gave you?" Hitoshi asked suddenly, having decided to play ignorant of the whole 'Lucifer is my dad' thing that Izuku had spent the last thirty minutes explaining. It was easier for everyone that way.
"Huh?"
"The note," He added, waving a chicken leg at his friend, "You said he gave you a note for a hero that could help you."
Izuku's hand snaked into his pocket, and he was sharply reminded that, yes, it was still there. He drew it out and looked to it as if at any moment a portal to Hell itself would open on his kitchen table. But no, from what he could tell, it was just an ordinary post-it note. Then, with the gentleness one might use to diffuse an atomic bomb, Izuku opened it and placed it flat in the center of the table.
The group gasped, then looked confused.
"Wait, really?"
"Interesting…"
"My brother knows him! How can he-"
"I'm not going," Izuku spoke firmly, solidly and with a deep frown, "I don't care who it is."
"… are you sure?" Ochaco asked with a small frown, "I mean, aren't you at least a little interested?"
"It's a trap, right? It has to be."
"We cannot trust our father," Nemesis agreed within his blood, "He never cared for us before, so why should we take their word now?"
"Do you have to go?" Tenya mused with a square hand to his square chin, "Is he forcing you?"
"Well, no," Izuku mumbled out, not looking to the others and instead focusing on the meal he'd barely taken two bites of, "He said I could leave any time, but I don't care. I'm not buying into his… evil plan or whatever."
There was a small pause, before suddenly his mother spoke up. "I think you should go." The others at the table all looked to her, Izuku included, and while for a moment she seemed to panic at being put so suddenly on the spot, she coughed and straightened up. "Lucifer is many things, sweetheart, but he wouldn't hurt you. I'm sure of that," She spoke firmly, looking directly into her son's eyes, "If he wants to help, he can. And besides, if you want to leave, you can do. This is your life, and you have control, don't ever think you don't. We're all behind you."
"Even after… everything?"
"Even after everything," Hitoshi chuckled and slapped a hand onto Izuku's shoulder, which was his equivalent of a hug. Izuku felt almost honored by it. "You're not him, Izuku, you're you, and really, even Nemesis isn't him either, so do what you think is best for you, dude."
Izuku considered it, then sighed and reached over and snatched up the paper, "I'll… try."
The weekend had otherwise passed in a kind of daze that he barely remembered. He felt as though he was once again stuffed full of his old medication and that the world was a weird, fuzzy fog that drifted him by no matter what he did.
He hadn't spoken directly to Nemesis that entire time.
Nemesis. His other-self. His Fallen-self.
It was… it was hard to consider. Hard to think about. Yet it made so much sense. Had Nemesis not always insisted it was both of them? Izuku Midoriya and Nemesis? Had it not always used the collective 'we' and not the independent 'I'?
Had it known? Had it always known? Perhaps, but it didn't matter. It had told Izuku a thousand times, and he had never listened.
He wondered what kind of crazy this made him now. Did this count as having split personalities? He wasn't so sure, considering it was more like a split soul than a personality. Technically he wasn't of two minds, he was of two spirits. One mortal, good, dedicated to trying to fight the darkness. And the other Fallen, evil, dedicated to tearing the world apart.
So much had been revealed to him, and yet, so many questions still remained. Thinking about it, however, simply gave Izuku a gigantic headache to which he curled up under his covers and slept off.
Nemesis still talked of course, though it was as if his Fallen half was intentionally avoiding anything to do with themselves. It commented on almost everything else and made its presence known through flickers of burning flame along his scars, but otherwise refused to bring up the revelation.
Again, Izuku couldn't find the energy to force it to talk, and what would it say? If it truly was himself, half of his whole being, then it would only know what he knew, which actually made a lot of sense the more he thought about it.
Nemesis had always known what it could do, but nothing about the wider demonic world, nothing of Hell or their father or anything else. Anything it knew about others, had been from reading their souls.
Another clue that he had stupidly overlooked.
Monday rolled around too soon.
His friends, of course, supported him and cheered him up as best they could as they gathered in the train station, before their big separation to their internships.
"If anything happens, the Ideten agency is only a short train ride away," Tenya urged as they stood in their friendship circle. "Less than fifteen minutes. Call me and I'll meet you."
He chopped a hand with his fingernails painted black, Ochaco having taken the opportunity to do so during Friday's meal, which had turned into an extended hanging out and a hotly contested Super Smash Brothers: Ultimate Melee Championship Edition tournament.
"Please don't do anything stupid," Ochaco urged with a frown that quickly collapsed into a concerned look, "Please?"
"I'll be alright, I mean, come on," Izuku managed a rather pathetic smile, "We've all seen him on the news a thousand times, right? So, he's gotta be a good guy."
"Still, if he has any association with Lucifer, something's gotta be up, no offense," Hitoshi cut in curtly.
Izuku shrugged, "None taken."
"Be careful my friend," Fumikage had nodded slowly, even as Dark Shadow had hung over his head glaring death at Izuku, "Always remember that despite your warring soul, you are good at heart."
"Exactly," Ochaco urged, "You're not evil, Izuku!"
Izuku didn't reply. How could he? Half of his own being was literally dedicated to Hell itself, though at that thought, hot fire flashed through his scars.
"We are dedicated to nothing but ourselves."
Izuku shook the voice of his Fallen side away, he wasn't in any mood to bicker.
"I still name you liar, Nemesis," Dark Shadow bitterly hissed from adopt its master's head, "Until I see proof of your claims, I will always name you so."
"Next time I talk to Lucifer, I'll get his signature for you," Izuku bitterly sniped back before looking back to the others, "Look, guys, I'll be fine. I don't trust Lucifer but- I dunno, it's worth a shot." He glanced to Tenya, "And thanks, Tenya, I'll keep you on speed dial, okay?"
"Of course," Tenya nodded firmly, "And it'll be no worry, it's what friends are for."
With that, they all came in for one final group hug, then each of them separated, heading in their own directions.
The moment Izuku got onto the train, his hero uniform suitcase being hugged tight to his chest, he let out a sigh and felt an ache in every bone in his body. He didn't know if he was heading to disaster, or into some kind of trap, or what… but part of him, the human part no doubt, was clinging to the hope beyond hope that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something new.
Maybe this was where he found his true beginning.
The office was on the very top floor, which was actually very fitting when Izuku considered it. The woman at the front desk had happily hurried him along with a knowing smile and a wink, telling him that, "Oh, he'll be back soon dear, he's always rushing about."
Thus Izuku had found himself stumbling out of an elevator, walking down a corridor and coming to a room which, when opened, revealed itself to be a huge open space with a single, expensive-looking executive desk on the far end, backed by a large, fancy-looking desk chair. Before that were two simple, white leather chairs, placed a meter or so apart.
One side the room led out onto an open balcony, in which a wind occasionally bustled through and sunlight irritatingly blinked from some glass top patio table. From somewhere far below he could hear the hustle and bustle of a busy city at work, though it seemed half lost on the wind this high up.
The walls were a pure white, matched by off-white wood floor centered by a neatly placed rug in a Persian style that looked a little too familiar for his own tastes.
And yet that wasn't what drew Izuku's attention.
What drew his attention were the display cases against the walls.
They were placed apart, a few at a time, on tall black stands with glass protecting each one and each lighted from above, as if they had been taken from a museum.
He wandered close to them, still with his heavy backpack on his back and his costume case clutched tight to his chest.
And as he did so, even though the glass, he felt the soft, static hum of faith.
The first one he approached was a pot. A simple pot with no particular design upon it other than a zig-zag weave. It looked old, impossibly old, the kind of old that looked as though it might fall apart if he breathed on it. Yet it hummed. No, not hummed, but sang. And not with the lightning-like strength of Ibara's faith, but like the softly lapping waves on some ancient shore. It sang, and though it had no words, no musical notes at all, Izuku's head was softly filled with the images of an ancient oasis, long lost to the past in a desert that no longer had a name.
It had no tag to explain what it was, none of them did.
He moved to the next one, a shawl that was so old it was grey, though when he squinted, he could still see the soft blue it had once been. That sang of a mother, weeping for a lost child. The next was a cup that looked as though it had been carved by some bored carpenter, which sang of good times, old joys and laughter under a night sky with an open fire, and the last…
The last was the tip of a spear.
It too looked as though at any moment it would simply fade into dust, yet it too, like the others, seemed to radiate some ancient sense of calm that Izuku found hard to place. The tip was stained with something dark that twisted Izuku's stomach, but the rest of the metal was surprisingly well kept.
He thought it might sing of bloodshed, and indeed there was a strange, battle-born sorrow from it, but also… friendship? It was hard to picture.
This one also had something else just under it. A tablet marked with a language Izuku had never even seen before but could guess immediately was ancient beyond belief.
He was squinting at it, as if it would somehow decipher itself, when he arrived.
Nemesis spiked suddenly through Izuku's blood, causing the boy to turn around suddenly. Though not towards the door but towards the far balcony.
However, as he did so, he grunted as his eyes come into full contact with the reflective sunlight and he threw up a hand, trying to get some shade to his vision. He heard the beating of great feathered wings rushing towards the balcony, then coming to a sudden stop. Through the shade he saw a figure land into a slight crouch, then straighten up.
The sunlight ringed their head like a halo, even as the door slid to a full open and the sounds of boots hitting tile echoed through the room.
The figure turned, shut the door behind them, and utterly plunged them both into a world-severing silence. Fire spiked defensively through Izuku's scars as Nemesis immediately jumped into a swift defense, demanding that they push unlight and fire into their palms against this new threat.
Izuku grit his teeth and pushed his Fallen-half back, then he blinked hard and lowered his hand as the figure strode towards him, the strange halo of light dissipating as his eyes adjusted and the figure blocked out the reflective light.
The man smiled, showing a flash of perfect white teeth on a handsome, boyish face that had dotted the front cover of many a magazine and social media post. Hair, dusty blonde and purposely messy was pushed back by a quick hand, clearing some space so that eyes as brown as old bark, yet as sparkling as stars could beam down at him. His eyes had two small black triangles at his tear ducts and were lined with eyeliner that made their sparkling only more pronounced. There was light stubble to his chin, which gave him a rakish air.
He wore a beige bomber jacket with a black shirt underneath and a matching pair of beige pants with tough-looking black boots. On either side of his hips bounced a pair of katanas, held in simple scabbards that matched his overall look. He removed a pair of blue-tinged visors from his eyes, and a pair of thick headphones from his head, and tossed them onto one of the two chairs facing the desk as he strode towards the boy.
Behind him were stretched a beautiful, stunningly blood-red pair of wings.
Izuku could only gape, and even Nemesis seemed to falter for just a moment.
"So, you're Izuku Midoriya, right?" His voice held a natural, warm laughter to it, and spoke with an ease that Izuku wished he had only a percentage of.
"Y-Yeah," The teenager replied, "I am."
"Excellent, been wondering when you'd get here." The man began taking off his gloves, one finger at a time, "I'm Hawks, but in the interest of being completely open with one other," He shoved one glove into his pocket, then stuck out his hand as his smile became a grin, "My real name is Azrael, the Unforgiven. It's good to finally meet you, nephew."
Azrael the Unforgiven, more commonly known as Hawks and to the Japanese government as Keigo Takami, sat in a fancy restaurant, at a fancy table, bored out of his mind.
It was the middle of the afternoon, prime flying about and saving people time, and he was stuck here, waiting on some jerk from UA to show up to talk about some internship possibility. He had a very strict code on internships, which was that he never, ever took them on. It was too much hassle for one. After all, what in his Father's name did he ever know about teaching kids? Secondly, the fact he was, well, not human may eventually come to light and then he'd have to explain about the world of the divine and undivine and ugh, too much work.
The restaurant was your typical reserve only affair. Mahogany wood tables, ornate rococo style chairs, gilded hanging chandeliers with crystal glass bobeches. Men in sharp suits, and women in similarly sharp suits, sat at the rounded tables talking money and stocks and acquisitions and who knew what else. It looked expensive, and it was expensive, and it was only because Azrael liked the crepes that he had come here at all.
Irritatingly, they'd made him check his dual katanas at the door. They were his rather infamous weapons of a hero, though they were pale imitations of the swords he had once wielded long, long ago. He had also dissipated his wings to sit properly in his chair, causing them to fade in a shower of sparkling golden flecks. It was a real crowd-pleaser, and he'd done it a few times, as well as summon them back, just to make good impressions on people.
And, occasionally, to seduce the odd person or two.
He browsed his phone as he waited, flicking through the various things that popped up on his social media timeline. The UA sports festival had just finished wrapping up not two days ago and while he couldn't give less of a shit about it, the fact that it was being called one of the strangest of recent times, mostly from the first-year class, was somewhat interesting.
This world of so-called 'quirks' was a weird one, and exactly what his Divine Father was playing at, he had absolutely no idea. Handing the humans this much power was… well, it was dangerous, if he was to put it lightly.
Heck, he was outright furious when they'd discovered how to split atoms. How could He even allow such a thing? It was madness.
Though he knew better than to question Divine Will.
The chair before him was pulled out, and a figure sat into it without Hawks even looking up from his phone.
"Hello, Azrael."
"Hey- Wait-" Azrael looked up suddenly, and half a second later, his eyes narrowed into furious slits.
Lucifer, King of Hell, sat across from him.
The man looked like he'd been mugged in an alleyway by time itself, but there was absolutely no way Azrael could ever, ever, mistake the eyes of his Fallen sibling.
Lucifer smiled politely, opened the menu that had been placed before him, and began looking through, "Sorry to have kept you waiting, sibling, but you know how traffic in the city is, especially when one can't simply fly over the worthless mortals."
There was a pause that was about as ice-cold as winter in the arctic before Azrael grabbed the edges of the table and hissed, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't flip this table and make you eat the chair I'm sitting on."
"Because," His sibling responded without otherwise reacting, "We're in a very nice restaurant, and you know how much the mortals adore their social constructs. Make a scene and your reputation will go down the drain," Lucifer looked up from the menu and gave a shit-eating smile, "And not to mention I'd rather not level this place in a fight you're guaranteed to lose."
Azrael paused, and his jaw clenched from anger and irritation, knowing that Lucifer's words were no mild threat.
With a growling sigh, he let go of the table.
"There you go, now, do what do you want to order?" Lucifer looked back to the menu, "I'm quite partial to their hanger steak."
"What do you want, Lucy?" Azrael practically spat out as he leaned forward, trying to keep his voice down and his anger in check. Lucifer was playing with him, as per fucking usual, and he was determined not to fall for anything.
And yet.
And yet the more he looked at the tired, worn-looking man the more he was starting to feel as though something was… missing. Lucifer, King of Hell, was absolutely terrifying on any practical day, especially his worst days. And yet while he could feel the power and unholy majesty of the Lord of the Fallen Angels before him, he felt like something was off.
"I'm here to ask you to take on an intern." Lucifer replied as he lifted his oblivion-black eyes to look over the rim of his glasses, "From UA. You know, as a hero would."
Azrael smirked, "Oh, really now?"
"Yes, really," Lucifer snapped back, "I work for them, and I'm here on their behalf."
"Really?" The hero folded his arms and leaned back into his chair, "Because, and don't take this the wrong way, my sibling, but you're a fucking dickhead and I hate you. So why, why, would I ever do anything for you, ever?"
"Didn't you hear me? I'm here on-"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, look we both know that's bullshit," Azrael sliced in, "So just cut to it. I'm a busy hero, you know, saving lives and doing good. Things that you couldn't possibly understand."
Lucifer narrowed his eyes at his sibling before smirking slowly, with a flash of sharpened teeth, "Still trying to get back into the Almighty Bastard's good books, are we?"
Azrael narrowed his eyes in a sour expression as Lucifer chuckled and reached inside his suit, drawing out a tablet and setting it before Azrael.
The hero looked to it, frowning, before reaching over and picking it up.
"Glados, open file 'Izuku Midoriya', please."
"Opening," The tablet replied in a sultry electronic tone before the screen lit up with a picture of the most pale and nervous-looking young man the hero had ever seen.
It took him a few moments of skimming over his file, and the pictures, before he suddenly remembered something, "Hey, I've seen this kid before. He was in the Sports Festival, right? I saw a few pictures of him online."
"Indeed," Lucifer nodded, "And he's the one I want you to take on as an intern."
Azrael glanced back to Lucifer with a disbelieving expression, "Why? Why him?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yeah, it does."
Lucifer shifted uncomfortably. This was a shock, because in all the time Azrael had known his sibling, which was a very long time indeed, he had never known Lucifer to look uncomfortable.
The shock must have shown on his face, because Lucifer caught it and frowned, "What?"
"What happened to you?" Azrael asked as he placed the tablet down, "You're… you're different."
"I'm fine."
"Shut the fuck up, you're different, you're…" He narrowed his eyes at Lucifer, as if, somehow, he would spot what was wrong, before shaking his head, "… not yourself."
"I don't have to tell you anything, all you need to do is agree to intern this boy," Lucifer quickly insisted, tapping the table with one finger.
"Or what?" Azrael suddenly laughed, "What could possibly be in this for me?"
There was a pause from the King of Hell. "You'll be free from my debt."
Azrael's eyes widened suddenly, and the lights in the restaurant began glowing brighter. So bright in fact that a few of them popped, causing several patrons to scream and dart out from under the chandeliers.
The two siblings didn't even react in the slightest.
"You're dying," Azrael suddenly gasped, "You finally did something so bad that Father is killing you."
Lucifer sighed and put a hand to his head, and in that moment, he looked tired in the way the mortals looked tired. Again, it shocked Azrael. "I'm not dying, Azrael. I'm just…" He paused, then looked to his sibling, "If I tell you, will you promise to take on the boy?"
"… okay. Clear my debt, and I'll take on this Izuku kid," Azrael nodded once, "But you have to tell me why, Lucy."
"In confidence, none of our other siblings above or below can know of this, Azrael."
The Archangel nodded again, "Sure."
"Deal?"
The Lord of Hell stuck out his hand, and unlight quickly took it, transforming the skin into shadow black and his fingernails into long claws. Azrael didn't even blink at this, and he stretched his own hand forward, grasping it tightly.
Just for a moment, his skin seemed to shine gold as though the rising sunlight itself was forming through it.
"Deal."
They shook once before letting go, both their hidden selves fading. Lucifer took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, again showing that horribly mortal tiredness that utterly unnerved Azrael. They were creatures of the divine, they weren't supposed to get tired.
"The boy, Izuku Midoriya. I saved his life by making a deal with the Bastard."
"You talked to Father?" Azrael almost laughed at the notion, "You said you'd tell me the truth-"
"I am!" Lucy snapped, glaring at his sibling with fire dancing in his freezing-burning blue eyes, "The boy had died in an attack at the USJ, and I asked Him to revive him."
"Holy…" Azrael raised a hand to his mouth in pure shock, his earth-brown eyes wide and staring. A terrible silence settled between them.
It lasted for several seconds while Lucifer simply looked to his shocked, pale-faced sibling before frowning, "Well, say something, dammit."
"I… I just…" The hero spoke from behind his hand, "What did Father ask of you?"
"Now I didn't agree to tell you that, did I?" Lucifer narrowed his eyes in a sly look to his sibling.
Azrael only shook his head in reply, "Okay, well, at least tell me… why? Why did you do it? For this- this kid? Why?"
Lucifer now smiled, and just for a moment, some of the true devil returned to him. His eyes brightened with a pride that could only belong to the Lord of the Fallen, "He's my son."
"Impossible," Azrael shot back instantly, "That's absolutely impossible and you know it."
"It's true," Lucifer leaned back, "He's my son, but he was taken far before his time. His own power overwhelmed him, and his mortal form couldn't handle it."
Azrael was looking to Lucifer like he'd just announced he was renouncing his crown, going to church on Sundays and was now a vegan. Finally, he managed to stutter out, "How, in the name of all that is Holy, did you have a child?" He almost waved his arms in amazement but managed instead to curl them back to the table, "I mean- I mean that's- Lucy that's impossible."
Lucifer smirked, folding his arms, "Again, I didn't agree to tell you the details, did I? And besides, if I told one of you, eventually you'd all be doing it."
"I- I can't with you, Lucy. I physically cannot with you," Azrael huffed at his sibling before looking back to the forms and began flicking back through them, landing on some of the more recent pictures of Izuku. "… Okay- so- assuming what you're saying is true-"
"It is."
"-what, you want me to, I dunno, show him the ropes? Why don't you do it? He's your impossible child, and I don't think helping any offspring of yours will please Father."
"He has yet to even know I'm his father, though I believe he'll find out soon. And, if you can believe this, he wants to be good." He smiled again, though this time it was genuine. "And, unlike our Tyrant of a Father, I want to encourage what makes him happy. If he wishes to be good, then so be it, he will walk the path of light."
Another shock. Lucifer's smiles were always the wolf-grin of a hunter, a predator, not this… kind, odd humor.
It was weird. Azrael wasn't sure he even liked it on his sibling. It reminded him far too much of days when they were all younger, all far more innocent, or perhaps more ignorant than they were now.
"However, his two sides are in conflict, his human-self, and his Fallen-self. His power is coming more and more into fruition, but unless he finds a way to balance the two halves of his soul, he will only end up dying again and falling into Hell where our other siblings will tear his soul into pieces. I will not allow that to happen." There was a small, but heavy, pause, "You know more than any of us about walking that line between the light and the dark."
"So that's why you came to me," Azrael nodded slowly, "That's why you're willing to let the debt go."
"He's my son, I will do anything for him."
Azrael glanced up from the tablet, "I never thought I'd hear you say those words."
"These are strange times for us all, mortal, Fallen and Divine alike," Lucifer shrugged, "Change is coming, my sibling. One way or another, change is coming."
Izuku stared at Hawks, or rather, Azrael, as the man or… whatever he was, finished the tale.
He had just done stretching, though it hadn't been the most strenuous of warmups. After all, he had been far too distracted with Azrael's story.
Azrael had told him to get changed into his workout clothes and meet him in the gym. His gym was a huge room with tall ceilings and walls dotted with climbing nooks and foot ledges, perfect for a hero who could fly. The equipment had been moved to the edges of the room in clear preparation for their meeting. The floor was the same type that UA seemed to have, though Azrael had covered most of it with large blue exercise pads.
Izuku had noted, rather interestingly, there were no actual lights in the room. Around them were candles, or large stretches were a fire could be lit behind glass. Before them were huge windows looking out onto the city below, which Azrael had assured the boy were one way only.
Most of this was, of course, lost as Azrael had begun filling him in one how exactly he had agreed to take him on.
It was a lot to suddenly take in on his first day of internship and frankly, more than he'd ever thought he'd even get from being there. It was as if the door he had creaked open with Lucifer was now causing every other door in his weird world of heaven and hell to fling open and the information he'd been chasing all his life to come spilling down onto him.
Nemesis, however, had been quite the opposite. Within his brain or soul, or blood, his Fallen-self had ranted about how this creature was something they should be wary of. They should be on guard, just in case it was some kind of trap. After all, Nemesis had complained about being unable to see Azrael's soul, though when asked, the Azrael had grinned and thumbed out a necklace from under his collar with a small metal cross upon it.
He'd brought protection, and advised Izuku to always do the same, then had laughed uproariously at the blush across Izuku's cheeks.
And yet even Nemesis had fallen silent when Azrael had told them about Lucifer's sacrifice.
"So… so he got God, like that God, to save me?"
"Yeah, I know, right?" Azrael replied as stretched beside his nephew, "He must really like you, kid, because he hasn't talked to Father in thousands of years, but the moment you're in trouble he went running back."
Izuku wasn't sure how to feel about this. He had made Lucifer, the actual devil, talk to God, the real God, on his behalf? The pure scale of it seemed absolutely staggering, and yet considering all the other bizarre, crazy shit he was learning recently, it was completely believable.
Because why not, right?
And it explained why he looked so different since before the events at the USJ. He too wondered just what Lucifer's Father had done to him in payment for rescuing him from Hell. It had to have been something significant if even he, someone who was barely able to tap into his own Fallen power, could sense it purely by looking at him.
"Why… why didn't he tell me?" Izuku asked softly, looking to his outstretched foot yet barely focusing at all.
"Because he's an asshat," Azrael replied with a shrug, "And because Lucifer has always been like that, kid. He's all about letting people know exactly what they need to know. No doubt he was gonna tell you at some point, when he dubbed it 'the best time' or something."
"Y-yeah, I mean, I'd hope so," Izuku stammered out.
"Right, but he probably didn't want to overwhelm you," Azrael grinned, "Me? I don't give a shit. You've been dealing with your Fallen-half all your life, you're a tough cookie if you can do that."
"This changes nothing," Nemesis snapped through his brain, "So he begged some Almighty power to take us out of Hell, who cares? No doubt it was only because it challenged whatever plans he has for us."
Izuku frowned softly but didn't reply. He wasn't so sure his Fallen-half was right on that account, though he would admit it was something he had already considered himself.
Izuku looked back to Azrael and simply stared at him for a moment before slowly, but bravely, asking, "S-So are you-" He swallowed, "One of the Fallen?"
He didn't remember Nirgali mentioning an 'Azrael the Unforgiven', but at this point, he was just taking it all as it came. Maybe by the time he slept, he could let it all sink into his brain and he'd have his mental break down tomorrow over his bowl of cereal.
"Me? Fuck no," Azrael rotated one of his shoulders and cracked his neck, "I'm an Archangel."
"An Archangel?"
"Yep. You know, feathery wings, big flaming swords, long white robes. An Archangel." After observing the look of confusion on Izuku's face, Azrael rolled his eyes, "Here, since it's just you and me, how about a more visual explanation?"
Before Izuku could even answer, light filled the room, shining bright and golden from Azrael's form with the light of heaven itself. The teenager had to shield his eyes for a moment, and Nemesis again spiked through his blood, shocked at this possible betrayal before…
… before the light faded, and there stood the Archangel Azrael.
His wings were still the deep, blooded red, but his skin had somehow become more golden, no, it was streaked with golden lines that seemed to flow in beautiful arching patterns across any skin that was exposed. His eyes seemed a purer white than ever before, though the center was still those sparkling, earth-brown pupils.
But more surprising was the strange, half-broken halo that shone for just a moment around his head from shoulder to shoulder. It resembled an inverse of the spiked halo that Lucifer had worn, but where theirs was terrible and damned, Azrael's was… was so beautiful, so wonderful, so hopeful. So bright and golden, so pure and… and so sad. So sorrowful and weeping, begging and begging for forgiveness for grave sins committed in hot-blooded anger.
And then it was gone, as was the blinding power of the light, relaxing into something at least bearable to his eyes.
"Don't look so shocked, nephew! You're gonna have to get used to this kind of thing." His voice had changed, becoming somehow… more melodic, almost lyrical in nature, and Izuku was half-sure that his uncle was no longer even speaking Japanese. Izuku decided not to press it, after all, seeing an Archangel in person was overwhelming enough. Azrael chuckled slightly as he patted the boy warmly on the shoulder while also using him to climb to his feet. Izuku expected to feel a shock of faith from the Archangel, but oddly, he felt nothing, "He really dropped you right into the deep end, huh?" He turned from Izuku and began walking back across the room, heading towards a stand where several wooden staffs had been placed, "There are seven of us, Archangels I mean."
"Really?"
"Yep," Hawks paused and began counting on his fingers, "There's myself, Mikael, Israfel, Gabriel, Metatron, Ammenadiel, and Zalaphon. And I dunno if you know this but there are also seven Fallen. Wanna know their names?"
Izuku shook his head, "No, I mean, I kinda know their names already. I learned them when I- erm- went to Hell."
Nemesis moved through Izuku's blood at the mention of Hell. It was odd how it had always disliked that place, even though Izuku now knew it was where technically it should feel most at home. Another weird contradiction in his contradictory existence.
"Right, so," Azrael looked back, held out a palm and wobbled it, "Think of it like a cosmic balance kind of deal. We were once all Archangels together, siblings united under our Father. Then Lucy has his little rebellion and split us into the Archangels, and the Fallen Angels. Heaven and Hell, good and evil."
It was odd. When he had questioned his mother, it had been lined with a bitterness from years of strife she had brought on. When he had talked to his father, he had been a hurricane of angry, chaotic emotions he simply couldn't process.
But with Azrael? It felt as though he was talking to someone who was both a stranger, yet a friend. Someone who would be open with him because he had no dog in the fight.
And it felt… good.
Maybe that's why he felt increasingly brave in his questions to his new relative.
"So, why are you called the Unforgiven?"
"Well, long story short at one point during the War in Heaven, I was on your dad's side." Azrael sighed at the memory. A sudden strange sorrow took over him and his wings pulled tighter to his body, "But I…" He struggled for a moment to find the right words, "I eventually changed my mind. I didn't like what was happening to Lucifer, to my other siblings, to me, and I didn't… I dunno, I guess I just thought we were fighting for different things." He shrugged and looked back to his new intern, "So on the eve of the final battle I told Lucifer I was going to switch back to Heaven's side. Thing was, if the others found out they'd kill me, but he decided to let me escape to the other side without telling my Fallen siblings, in exchange for a debt."
"The debt he called on for you to take me on." Izuku thought out loud.
"Our accused father even traps their own family," Nemesis hissed through his blood, "The Bastard deserves nothing of our affection."
Izuku found himself nodding but otherwise kept this quiet from Azrael.
The Archangel paused for a moment and looked away, "I think I was the very first debt he made… anyway," He shrugged and took two of the wooden staffs from the wall, "To wrap up, when the good side won and your dad and the others were cast into Hell, my faithful siblings declared me unforgiven for my former betrayal, and that I would have to earn back my place amongst them." As he walked back towards Izuku, he tapped one of his wings with the end of the staff. "That's why my wings are red, they're stained with the blood I spilled. They also stripped me of my swords and threw me to earth." He paused as he stood before Izuku, holding out one of the wooden staffs, "It's why you don't get any divinity from me."
"Divinity?"
"You know, the divine spark." He rolled his eyes, "I dunno what the mortals call it, spiritual energy, aura, faith, whatever," He shrugged, "I was stripped of it. I'll never get it back until I'm finally forgiven, which," And he looked to his wrist as if he was looking at a watch, "I'm still waiting on some… several millennia later."
The absolute candor to which Azrael spoke was utterly astonishing. Izuku had grown so used to the secrecy and double-speak that those involved in the supernatural world seemed intent on using that to simply hear answers from questions was just… it was frankly amazing.
"The Archangel is so candid," Nemesis mused through his ears, "Yet they deserve what they got. A traitor is a traitor and should be punished as such."
"Shuttup," Izuku hissed suddenly and frowned down at nothing.
"What?"
Izuku panicked as he looked back up to Azrael, "Oh! No! Sorry I was just-"
"Your Fallen-half speaks to you, right?" Azrael cut in suddenly, wagging a staff at the teenager, "The side of you called Nemesis?" He smiled kindly, "Your dad mailed me a bunch of files on you, he felt I should have a full picture if I was teaching you."
Izuku hesitated, an age-old worry gripping him. He swallowed thickly and nodded, "Y-yes, sir."
"Don't call me sir," Azrael frowned, "Just call me Azrael. No, wait, don't call me Azrael in public, call me… Uncle Hawks!" He grinned suddenly and his wings flourished, "Yeah! I can be the cool uncle!"
"O-okay, Uncle Hawks."
"No, nope," He shook his head and frowned, "I don't like that, makes me feel old, just call me Hawks when we're around mortals."
"Okay, Haw- erm- Azrael."
"So, yeah, your Fallen half chats with you, interesting…" He nodded to himself before shoving the staff at Izuku, who suddenly realized he was supposed to take it and grabbed it with both hands. The second he did so, Azrael practically hopped backwards a few steps and spun the staff in one hand.
"So," His uncle began playing with the staff like one would play with a knife, twirling and toying about, though there was a growing danger to him that had Izuku on edge and Nemesis stalking through his blood, "What does your Fallen half tell you do to?"
"… I- well," Izuku stammered at the question, gripping his own staff tightly.
"We tell ourselves to stop caring about the opinions of others, to be ourselves, true and free and open."
"It… it tells me to be myself, true and free and open." Izuku repeated with a soft, unsure tone. Azrael had told him he wanted to spar very briefly, just to see what he could do. Did he mean to do it now?
"Which means?"
"To conquer, to rule, to show the world we are the greatest, that we stand above all."
"To conquer and rule and show the world we're the greatest," Izuku rolled his eyes, "Which means killing and death and destruction."
"Yeah, sounds like it," Azrael's lips twitched as he rolled his head from left to right, "Odd though," Izuku blinked, "That's your dad's blood right there. He was always insisting we should rule over the Earth, Hell and Heaven, to be the best and greatest and whatever." Hawks paused and wagged a finger at him, "You're more like your dad than you think."
"WE ARE NOTHING LIKE THEM!"
The sudden shock of rage from Nemesis caused Izuku's scars to flair and burn, and his tail curled up as he winced.
Azrael grinned ever wider and his wings stretched behind him as he suddenly gripped his staff with both hands, "Didn't like that, huh?"
"No," Izuku growled softly, "I'm not like Lucifer."
"I dunno, you kinda look a little like him," Azrael was slowly moving to his flank, and Izuku began pacing away, trying to keep his new uncle in front of him, "You have his eyes for sure."
"No, I don't," Izuku growled again, knowing already what Azrael was trying to do. He was trying to piss him off, to unbalance him on purpose. He wouldn't let it work. "I have my-"
"You have green eyes, yeah, but you have your father's eyes," Azrael suddenly insisted, "All that pride inside you, I can see it, all bottled up in that swirling pool of contradictions you call a soul."
Izuku's knuckles turned white as he gripped his staff. He felt fire bounding through his scars as his tail whipped behind him.
Azrael narrowed his eyes, "Light and dark, good and evil, crashing and fighting all the time. You're an unbalanced mess of a creature, Izuku. You're a born warrior, but you're too afraid of yourself to do anything about it. You want to prove your greatness, your worth to the world, but you're too scared to actually give it your all, you don't even want to fight me here and now."
"N-No, that's not true," Izuku grit his sharpened teeth, "I-I'm not like him, I'm not a monster. I'm going to be a hero."
"Prove it then," Azrael twirled his staff, "I'll even make it easy for you. No wings, no flight." Suddenly, from tip to stem, Hawk's great red wings began fading away in a shower of golden flakes and vanishing into a wind that didn't exist. It distracted Izuku for only a moment before he made eye contact with his new uncle who held out a hand and beckoned towards him, grinning like a hawk diving upon an unsuspecting mouse, "Show me what you can do, little Lord of the Fallen."
Fire burst like a bubble in Izuku's legs as he suddenly bounded forwards, faster than one could take a breath. The staff in his hands swung for Azrael's body, but despite his sudden speed, the end only met empty air.
He was halfway through turning when something thick smacked into his side, causing the boy to yelp and fall onto his face.
Pain stabbed through him as he scrambled back to his feet, turning to see a grinning Azrael looking down at him. Even without his wings, the Archangel had simply moved like the air itself around Izuku's fire.
"Boy, you're bad at this, are you sure you wanna be a hero?" Azrael chuckled.
Izuku cried out again as he moved forward, slicing across with the staff only to have Azrael jump right over it, then as he landed, fluidly smack the pole against the back of Izuku's knees. The boy cried out in pain and fell to a crouch, his scars again flashing with fire.
"What are they teaching kids these days?" Azrael mumbled as he turned away from Izuku, literally showing him his back and putting his staff across his shoulders, resting his wrists on either end.
Izuku felt his blood pounding through his heart and he roared again, jumping up and racing at Azrael. The Archangel elegantly stepped to one side, expecting another strike at his body, yet he suddenly had to take a swift backward dodge as a sharp thrust barely missed his middle.
He dodged again at Izuku spun into his attack, using his momentum to strike at Azrael's head. The hero sidestepped, with the wood of the staff barely missing his skull, his eyes growing wide with surprise for just a moment before he retaliated.
Again, Azrael moved as though he was naught but air. Fluid and soft yet as forceful and deadly as a hurricane. The staff spun in his hand as he twirled around Izuku's strike, using the teenager's momentum against him before hitting him hard in the chest, one leg tripping him from behind.
The wind was knocked out of Izuku's lungs as he plummeted to the ground, smashing into the thankfully padded flood with a thud, his staff falling swiftly from his hands.
The edge of Azrael's staff was pressing against his heavily panting chest.
The golden light that shone from him seemed to flair in that moment, though whether through irritation or satisfaction the teenager wasn't sure.
For a moment, Izuku almost allowed another furious roar from Nemesis to erupt from him… right before he spotted the smile on Azrael's face.
It was genuine, and it was pleased.
"Nice moves, kid! You almost hit me! There's hope for you yet," The Archangel moved the staff away and offered his hand. After a second, Izuku took it and allowed himself to be hauled up.
He was still frustrated, and that fire was still pounding through his blood. But he was still him at least, though he eyed his new uncle with irritation. Azrael caught the look and laughed lightly, "Don't look so pissy, nephew! You did great. Your flow is terrible, though. You really are unbalanced as fuck."
"You try fighting when a monster in your soul is trying to take over your body," Izuku practically spat out.
"Tell me about it," Azrael replied simply, his eyes turning sharp all of a sudden, "I know that feel."
This caused Izuku to pause, "Wha-"
"I told you, didn't I? I fell," Azrael replied as he placed the staff back across his shoulders. His voice seemed to soften for a moment and his eyes grew distant, "I know what it's like to feel all that hate, that rage, that unholy fury in my blood. That's Hell within you, Izuku. And it's intoxicating and addictive and it can give you incredible amounts of power. Fuck, it turned half of my siblings into monsters and legions of lesser spirits into soulless demons."
He breathed through his nose softly, "I managed to break free, but I still have it inside me. I've been on Earth a long, long time, and I've been struggling with keeping that part of me in balance since I was banished from Heaven. That part that sees these humans and their infinite sins and just…" His eyes grew hard and his hands curled into fists. Something slightly terrifying stole over him in that moment, then he shook his head and looked back to the teenager, the air dropping from him, "I try not to judge them too harshly. They're only mortals, after all, and we're here to protect and guide them, not rule over them."
Izuku's eyes widened at this, and even Nemesis gasped candle fire through his blood. "S-So you're… like me?"
"Not quite, my soul was never divided like yours is, and you're literally a crossbreed of two different worlds. You're unbalanced, but you have all the tools to truly be one of us, working on the side of the divine. Hopefully, I can help you find whatever it is you need to help find that balance and set you on the right path."
Izuku found himself smiling, and even more than that, he felt hope rising within him. Just as he felt fire washing through his scars, curious and yet, perhaps, matching that same hope. He had already figured this was probably his last chance to find a path that worked, but now more than ever he felt as though this time he could really do it.
This time he could find his balance.
"Now," Azrael brought his staff back down and grinned, "Let's do this again. I wanna know just exactly what that temple of vainglory they call UA has been teaching my nephew."
IT WAS HAWKS. IT WAS HAWKS ALL ALOOOONG. So small note, the line "Hi, I'm Azrael the Unforgiven" came to me at work while listening to Sinner Man by Nina Simone. And all at once I was just hit with the vision of Hawks as the Archangel Azrael, begging for forgiveness as he runs from both his father and hell. After that, it was decided.
So, now Izuku is in the capable hands of an Archangel... even though that Archangel is Hawks. The living embodiment of a chicken nugget. The next chapter after this is also a MAJOR turning point for our small bean. Remember when I said the crying would stop at chapter 38? Well, you're about to see why. Azrael may have failed at choosing the right side in the War in Heaven, but he's not gonna fail his new nephew.
It's time for Izuku and Nemesis to get their shit together.
Thank you all for reading, and I'll see you next update!
