So I've got a big announcement towards the end of this chapter but for now, I'll just let ya'll get to reading.
Hope you enjoy!
How much of her life did Inko regret? She'd never been certain of that answer. There were plenty of things she'd take back if she could. Plenty of moments where she knew she should have done better, acted more thoughtfully, with more heart and soul.
She didn't regret Izuku though. She regretted her choices about him, yes. She should have been less afraid of the dark that called to him, the dark that had placed a crown of shadow upon his brow and declared him their prince of hope.
She should have leaned into it. A smarter, braver mother would have done that. But she considered herself neither smart nor brave.
She considered herself a survivor. Someone who could keep pushing through no matter what. She had raised a child who could easily bring the world crashing into hell if he so willed it, but instead, she had installed in him the one thing that made him who he was.
The one thing that made him human above that of his celestial blood.
She'd given him heart.
It was almost ironic, and the thought didn't fail to stop a smile sneaking across her face. She'd given him a heart strong enough to outlast any struggle, a heart that could lift him up and take him forwards, and maybe even lift and take others with him.
But hers? Her heart was failing.
The doctors were baffled, but she wasn't surprised at that. Aside from being a little overweight, a little out of shape, and suffering from an anxiety that had burrowed so deeply into the very mettle of her bones that she'd die worrying about the electricity bill, she was otherwise a healthy, normal woman.
But of course, she wasn't.
Because her heart was failing.
She knew death was coming for her. She wasn't sure how it would arrive, though she knew it's method of disposal. She'd die from a heart attack. But would she see one of those wonderful celestial beings? Would the angel of death itself come to her door, take her hand, and… and take her to hell?
She had no illusions. She was not going to heaven. She had given birth to the devil's own child. Lucifer's pride and joy.
But Izuku was her pride and joy too, and maybe that would count for something.
Izuku had been in the hospital room earlier that day. He'd been escorted to the building by his homeroom teacher, the one with the dour expression and eyes like coal.
She didn't like Aizawa. She didn't like any of the heroes if she was being perfectly honest. She'd never really liked the idea of them even before Izuku had decided to become one. Flashy people in flashy clothes using their quirks to get cats out of trees and stop bank robbers.
Meanwhile, people still suffered. Racial inequality, wealth inequality. Heroes did nothing about them, did they? Of course not, because those problems weren't sexy. You couldn't put 'All Might Stops Gentrification' on the front page and expect to sell newspapers.
But Izuku was determined to be one, or at the very least, he was determined to make a difference. To use the power in his hands to mold the world to a softer, kinder image.
She was proud of him for that. He had the right idea of what being a hero really was. It wasn't about showing off how cool your quirk was, it was about actually giving a shit about the people you were supposed to be helping.
Even the villains, to an extent. No one ever bothered helping them, and Inko's time with Lucifer had muddied the waters on how she viewed those deemed evil. Sure, there were those who were evil and had to be stopped, by brutal force if necessary. But there were some who were pointed at, told they were the bad guy, and that was that.
Lucifer had taught her that. She had learned he was the devil, the King of Hell, and had for a long time wondered if her heart was trying to kill her.
Heh, another irony.
But he'd been so kind, so careful. So loving. He'd promised her the world and meant it. But some men weren't meant to be fathers. In a weird, stretched way, she could see why he'd left. If he'd stayed, would Izuku be as kind and as wonderful as he was now? Or would he have become arrogant and pompous, flushed with the pride of his heritage and the complete control of his power?
She didn't want to believe it, but she could see why Lucifer had worried about it.
He was wrong, of course. He should have stayed because Izuku wouldn't have become like his father no matter what. He would have become like Izuku.
Inko sighed and reached for her phone, noting the thousand and one messages from Izuku, asking her if she was alright, if she was feeling better, telling her how much he loved her.
He'd already been in there only a few hours before, and he'd practically bawled the entire time. Tears came less easily to him now, but they still came, especially it seemed when it came to her. He had cried and held her hand and promised he'd find a way to help her and a hundred other things he couldn't possibly fulfill.
She'd assured him that she'd be alright, even if she knew her words were hollow. She suspected that Izuku knew them too.
Lucifer had claimed her heart, that had been his one and only price. And now Lucifer was gone. He was in heaven, and she was on earth. She wasn't sure how it worked but she was starting to believe that as long as he wasn't on the same… world, dimension, plane of existence or whatever it was as her, she would suffer.
Her heart was failing, and eventually, she was going to die.
She texted him back, telling him she was just fine and that she'd text him again first thing in the morning. Facing death made one more relaxed, at least, when one knew they were going to die and there was absolutely no way out of it.
She felt at peace with it, surprisingly so.
After all, she had given her heart to Lucifer, King of Hell. She was the mother of Izuku, Prince of Hell.
And when she did go down to that dark abyss, she had to believe that it would, at the very least, count for something.
His mother's message popped up and Izuku read it with a sick stomach that didn't change even after she assured him, she was fine.
Nothing was fine. Everything was terrible.
His mother was dying.
All the rush, all the joy of passing his exam had been torn out of him by that one sledgehammer of a realization. All the power in the world, everything he had, could do nothing to stop something as small as a heart attack.
This was her second in as many months and the doctors were going to keep her in the hospital for an extended observation. The first thing Izuku had panicked about was if she was alright. The next thing he'd panicked about, stupidly, was money.
They had never been rich, though Inko had somehow managed to keep him in school, put food on the table and keep the lights on. As a kid, he never realized those things were even a thing, he had just assumed that was all sorted by his mother.
As a teenager turning into a young man, he realized that was everything. How could a woman working a low-end office job keep all that going? On her own? With no assistance?
Well, she had assured him that she did have assistance, of a sort. For years Lucifer had been dropping money into their account. She'd joked it was a sort of child support, though when Izuku had asked how much, she had simply replied 'more than enough'.
And apparently, it was still going. Money was still dripping into their account, and it was enough to cover her hospital stay, his U.A. tuition, and more besides.
Izuku wondered if his mother even had to work, or if she just chose to because she had nothing better to do with her time.
His dorm room was messy, and he didn't care.
Part of living in the dorms was the idea that you were supposed to take care of your personal space. Sure, it was your space that belonged to you, but you had to obey their rules about it. Clothes had to be washed on their rotation, things had to be cleaned up and put away. They didn't have a room inspection, not officially, but Izuku was sure that Aizawa found a way to keep track of the condition of every dorm in the building.
And his was messy.
Clothes were on the floor and books were piled up or splayed open on his desk. There were old coke cans, food wrappers, and random bits of paper with notes on them scattered around. The gloom caused by his closed windows didn't help all that much, but it wasn't like that mattered to him. He could see just fine in the dark, and it relaxed him more than the open sunlight.
Not that there was any sunlight.
The sun had set before Izuku had even gotten home from the hospital, and after fending off questions from the other students he had managed to seclude himself into his room. He'd just wanted to be alone for a while, even from his friends.
He felt as though so much was out of his hands and to sit and talk about it would just make it all the more real, all the more obvious that he wasn't living up to the expectations placed on him.
It'd just make him feel more trapped.
He'd been there for an hour or more, time wasn't really important at this point. He didn't feel tired, and he wasn't going to force himself to try and sleep.
He'd texted Hawks a few times at least, but not gotten much back. Izuku hadn't mentioned Himiko though. Not just yet. He felt nervous about mentioning her, even over a text message. He was no conspiracy theorist like Shoto, but he wasn't stupid enough to think that mentioning a wanted villain over a text message while in the confines of U.A.'s system wouldn't immediately flag him.
And Nedzu could go fuck himself if he thought he was going to get anything out of Izuku from this point on.
He knew the principal meant well but denying him the chance to go to Hell and try and help was… well, it felt like a hand had pulled tightly at the collar around his throat.
He was still bitter about it.
Izuku moved off the bed and, half meaning to, kicked his school bag to one side. Some of the stuff he kept in there fell out. Some books, some pencils, that kind of stuff. They scattered a little before him and he was about to just step over them on his way to the computer when he noticed it.
There was a letter in his bag.
He blinked, his eyes practically glowing in the dark as they focused upon the unusual item. He picked it up and moved to his desk, pulling out the computer chair and sitting into it, his tail quickly curling as to avoid being sat on.
He was getting much better at that.
From simply touching the letter he immediately knew two things. Firstly, it was written on very expensive paper, the very texture of it was far beyond your usual A4 print. Secondly, it was tainted by darkness.
And that made it all the more enticing.
The front of the letter had a single word written upon it in fine, slightly curling script.
'Izuku'.
The back held nothing, not even a wax stamp which, for some reason, seemed unusually absent on this kind of thing.
He summoned a quick claw to slice the top open and remove the letter, and with wide eyes, he began reading.
Dear Prince Izuku, He Who Is Nemesis, Lord Morningstar the Redeemer.
My companions believe this is a fruitless effort, that we should simply take you from your dorm and pull you into the council room by your tail, however, I have faith that this action will prevail.
We have tried to go through your official channels, and that has clearly failed. Today, on the day of your 'hero exam' we will again try to contact you directly, but Kuroiro has little hope of this succeeding. However, the Lords of Oblivion are not known for our surrender. Indeed, we are known for our perseverance against all odds.
Hell needs you. It needs a celestial to guide us. Our situation is dire, and even I may surrender the mortal form I've acquired here on Earth to return and defend my beloved realm from the threat of invasion.
Therefore, with this letter, we place the agency of your visit to Oblivion in your hands.
On the reverse of this letter are the symbols you will need to create a door to the underworld. Find any door you wish and carve them around it. You will need a drop of your blood to activate the sigils. You do not need to speak any words of power, you are power, they will respond to your blood, as the blood of a celestial. This is absolutely key to this working. No demon can do this for you, it is a power only the Unholy Fallen possess. Only they can open such doors, and only they may pass through them.
I understand that this is asking you to break the rules of your school, but I have seen the look in your eye, my prince. I trust you will know that this is the right move to make.
Your realm calls for you.
Please, aid us.
Much devoted in eternal damnation, Mephistopheles, Second Baron of the Privy Council of Oblivion, Lord of Eyes and Ears, Master of Tomes, etc. etc.
P.S. Do not bring any of your court with you. They are mortals and will not survive the crossing into Hell.
He turned the letter over, and indeed scrolled on the back in the shape of an oval door were sketches of strange and unnerving symbols that brought a cold, unholy dread to the human half of his spirit.
And yet his fallen half seemed perfectly at home with them. In a strange way, he almost felt like he recognized one or two of them, and his memory semi-matched some of the symbols to ones he had seen in the dungeons of the Herald's church.
What they meant exactly he had no idea, but the very fact they were there was… exciting.
He was excited.
This was it. This was his key. This was something he could do, a last line thrown to him to act like he should be able to act. As a leader, as a Prince, as someone who could use his unholy gifts to help.
He turned the letter over and read it again, even though it was already stenciled right into his eidetic memory.
Indeed, after taking another moment to focus and study the sketching's on the back, he moved to the small balcony outside his dorm and leaned over the railing, quickly setting fire to the letter which instantly burned up in his hands.
His heart knew what he was doing was wrong, but he made no effort to stop himself.
He turned back to his room, dressed into his armor, and moved back out to his balcony again.
His heart was starting to pound in his chest, and yet he didn't feel overly nervous or worried. He felt… invigorated. He felt this was just what he needed. After the failure to get across to Himiko this was the pickup he had longed for. He could do this. He would get in trouble, that he was sure of, but it'd be worth it.
"School rules be damned," Nemesis hissed through his skull as he jumped up onto the railing, spread his wings, and floated silently down to the ground. "We are the Prince of Hell, it's about damn time we do something with it."
He knew where he was going. Ground Beta. Ground Alpha would probably be in use, even at this time of night. He knew the older classmen took lessons in night patrol and night fighting, and indeed as he made his way from shadow to shadow through the school grounds, he spotted flashes of light coming from the distant faux-city training grounds.
The school never did fully sleep.
Ground beta, however, was silent. It was also dark. With no one really living there, there was no need to have any of the streetlamps on, or any porch lights for the many buildings. It was a fake city clothed in deep shadow, and from the moment Izuku stepped into it he could feel the loving embrace of the dark around him.
There were no unborn in the school, not anymore at least. Ever since Hawks had helped beef up the spiritual security, Izuku hadn't spotted a single dark shadow-creature lurking on the grounds.
Something here was keeping them out.
For a moment, he worried that it would slow his mission. That somehow the spiritual block would stop him from coming through to Hell.
No, he had to at least try. And besides, while he was confident that he might be able to slip in and out of Hell on the school grounds, if he even attempted to leave them, he could find himself in massive trouble.
The thrill of breaking the rules was infectious, and he could feel every bit of himself buzzing with anticipation. And it wasn't just breaking the rules, the more he worked in the silence of the night, the more he had to admit openly to himself that he was excited to be returning to hell.
Yes, of course, he was scared. Hell was terrifying. It was pure darkness, a place of ultimate suffering and pain. It was a place that defied all known laws of physics and logic and sense and was made of the worst aspects of all human nightmares.
But it was also his home. Or at least, a part of him did belong there. It was as much a part of him as the blood in his veins and the soul in his heart.
He was the Prince of Hell.
He had first visited hell as a scared, dead soul.
And he would return there as its first-born master.
Izuku had picked a door. It was a dark, oak-looking door that was set into a small alleyway, supposedly it would lead to a club called the Helvegen. Somehow it seemed fitting. That, and the flat stone wall around the door would make carving the symbols easier. It was also not close to the entrance, so if anyone came looking, they wouldn't immediately spot him.
He went to work. Carefully, from his perfect recall, he began caving out the shapes. One at a time, making sure to match the sketch perfectly. He didn't know what he was technically doing, but he refused to get even a single moment wrong. After all, he'd seen what happened when a ritual was interfered with.
Bad things followed.
When he'd finished the sketching, he paused, standing back to admit his work. Then he held out a finger, pricked it with a claw, and saw his own deep red blood well up.
"Well, here goes nothing."
He took a step forward and pressed his finger to the first sigil, and out of some instinctual reflex, he willed the ritual to work. He wasn't sure if it'd do anything, but he felt as though it couldn't hurt.
He stepped back.
And nothing happened.
The open sky above, dotted with clouds, allowed a beam of moonlight to come down, lighting the alleyway and revealing the boy dressed in the armor of the damned, standing before a door, looking intently at it like he was waiting for it to answer a very important question.
Nothing happened.
Izuku's heart beat faster. Had he done it wrong? Had he carved it wrong? Maybe he had to put his blood on every sigil, maybe that was-
The sigil flickered.
It was as if something behind it was shining a dark, fire-light through it, dancing with shades of deep red, warm orange, and hot yellow.
Then the hidden fire began to catch to the others and in a clockwise motion they began to flicker and glow, passing along their power to each carved symbol.
A sharp-tooth grin broke out over Izuku's face and goosebumps rose along his arms. It was working! It was really working! He was doing forbidden hell-magic! This was amazing!
The symbols had gotten halfway through when he heard it.
A footstep landing at the end of the corridor.
He suddenly realized that he'd been so focused on his goal, so wrapped up in this sudden, mad desire to do what he wanted to do, that he'd lost focus of everything around him. Panic gripped his heart for just a moment as he turned, his senses on fire, heightened by the sudden excitement of this nefarious, rule-breaking adventure.
"Hitoshi!"
Hitoshi stood at the entrance to the alleyway, his hands curled into fists and his eyes blazing. He was dressed in a pair of work-out pants, sandals, and a simple black t-shirt with a red triangular symbol on it that looked like a strange, one-eyed face marked by two sharp horns.
"You… complete dickhead!"
"Look, I can explain-"
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Hitoshi was storming towards him, the imperial shine of his eyes bright and fiery in the moonlight. "Did you not think I'd see you leaving? Dude I was literally downstairs 'cos I couldn't sleep!"
"I- erm- well, you see-"
"What the fuck is- what the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK?" Hitoshi looked at the door, where the symbols were now three-quarters of the way through. It was like watching liquid seep from one container to the next, almost hypnotic in its slow, but inexorable, advance. He stopped, staring at the door before looking to Izuku again. "… dude."
"I got a letter!" Izuku finally found his spine and cut back. "From Mephistopheles! They need me, Hitoshi!"
"So, you're fucking sneaking out and doing whatever the fuck this is?" He waved an arm at the door. "What is this?"
"It's a doorway," Izuku answered flatly before deciding to add, "to hell."
There was a very pregnant pause. A pause so pregnant that it was probably carrying an entire sports team of pauses inside it.
"… to hell."
"Yes."
"You're literally opening a door to hell."
Izuku straightened up a little, defiant in his conviction. "Yes. I'm going. I'll be back before morning. Don't wait up."
"Dude, we talked about this. All of us. We told you to wait."
"Yeah, exactly. You told me. I didn't get to decide for myself, did I?" Izuku snapped back, his voice tinged with an echo. "Everyone keeps telling me to do things, and I'm getting sick of it. I'm supposed to be the Redeemer Prince but I can't fucking do anything because every time I try people tell me no!"
"What- who's telling you no?" Hitoshi looked around, holding his arms out for a moment. "No one's telling you no!"
"You're telling me no! Right now!" Izuku shot back, his bubbling anger spilling over. "You're only here to stop me, right?"
"Well, yeah, because this is fucking dangerous!" Hitoshi gestured at the door. "It's a door to hell, dude! Hell! That place which is fucking full of people who want to kill you!"
"You don't know that!"
"It's hell!"
"And we're the fucking Prince of Hell!" Izuku's words seemed to wash heavy across the space between them. "These are our people! Our responsibility! We can't just spend all our time sitting around twiddling our fucking thumbs while other people suffer!"
"I'm not going to let you wander off and die!" Hitoshi moved forward, unphased, or at least unwilling to show he was phased, by Izuku's words and rising heat.
The darkness seemed to be curling around Izuku, forming like a cloak about his shoulders and coming to stand ready by his side, like a loyal soldier defending their master. He could feel it. He could feel its cold, void-like touch across his skin and hear its whisper in his ear telling him to shove Hitoshi back, to turn, and enter into the door and never come back to the earth again.
He wouldn't do that. He would return. He had to, for his friends, for his mother, for Azrael and Himiko.
But right now, he had to let them go.
The sigils around the door finished glowing, and they suddenly shone bright. So bright that streaks of red light poured out of them before the light from behind the door shifted. It went from the dull glow of some distant emergency light to a sudden void-dark that was visible even against the moonlit shadow.
It seeped out around it, and the smell of distant cold, suffering, blood and fire danced through the air.
The two boys were so shocked at the sudden transformation that their argument paused. Together they stood, staring at the door in absolute wonder.
Then, before Hitoshi could stop him, Izuku stepped forward and opened the door, which swung open with an ominous creek.
There was nothing. More than nothing, it was the infinite darkness at the center of a black hole. It was infinity. It was the eternal pit of shadow and cold that claimed all life in the universe, the great devourer of good and purity.
It was a doorway that now opened into Hell.
"I'll be back later." Izuku replied as he began stepping forward. "Cya- HEY!"
He'd barely crossed the threshold into the doorway when Hitoshi's hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked the boy back. Izuku almost tumbled into him, the sudden surprise of the movement completely catching him off guard.
"You're not going!"
"Yes, I am!"
"I won't-"
Hitoshi didn't finish the sentence. Izuku's elbow had shot out, catching him in the cheek and spinning his head back, with his body quickly following. In what was almost the same movement he darted forward to run through the doorway, but a hand grabbed his tail and wrenched it back.
A hand quickly grabbed around his neck and hauled him over, though Izuku knew the move and managed to land on his feet, rushing to tackle Hitoshi out the way.
The teenagers fell into a sharp grapple that wasn't quite into an outright punching match, but with every struggle and grunt drew closer to it.
"YOU'RE NOT GOING!"
"FUCK YOU, YES I AM!"
Izuku began heating his body up, the cursed power of his inner flame rising in his blood and quickly turning his scars that bright azure blue that signaled death by devouring fire. Hitoshi quickly responded by activating his own power, One For All rushing through his body and causing great arcs of powerful amethyst lightning to crackle around him.
Fire and lighting, imperial dark and burning light, they clashed in that all too narrow corridors as the boys struggled to overpower one another.
Neither wanted to throw the first punch, yet somehow it happened anyway.
And it was Izuku who struck first.
A fist collided with Hitoshi's stomach, knocking half the wind out of him before another swift kick tried to land on his arm. Hitoshi blocked it, having no space to actually avoid the blow, before swinging back with a sharp fist of his own.
The Prince of Hell deflected the blow easily, the fist sliding from his armor, but he didn't expect the following elbow that hit him right in the chin. He almost saw stars as he stumbled back, but his power boosted his recovery and he gathered himself just in time to avoid a kick that would have hit him square in the chest.
He caught and spun the foot, though Hitoshi's other foot almost hit the side of his skull if not for a quick, armored arm to stop it.
Hitoshi landed, flipped, and was on his feet before Izuku could attack again.
They both hesitated.
Lighting crackled and arched around Hitoshi, while Izuku's burning destroyer flame licked at his arms and hands.
They were only just panting, but that seemed enough.
Hitoshi's fists were raised up, ready to fight. Izuku's were held at his sides, palms up, ready for anything.
"Don't make me do this."
"You can't stop me."
"Do you really believe that?"
Izuku didn't reply. Half because he was certain Hitoshi would brainwash him, half because he honestly didn't know the answer. Not even Nemesis was completely certain that they could really defeat Hitoshi. Perhaps they could, but Hitoshi was determined in ways that were almost beyond human.
If this fight went any further, this training ground would be demolished at the very least.
His hands curled into fists and his jaw tightened.
"I'm going to Hell," he replied, finally. "Step aside, or I will put you down."
Hitoshi moved, shifting just a little towards the door. His eyes narrowed. "Fucking try."
Izuku, in that half-second, calculated his move. If he hit hard enough, fast enough, with enough shock, he could simply throw Hitoshi out the way and be into the door before the boy could stop him. He calculated that Hitoshi couldn't move as fast as he could. It would be close, but all he needed was close.
Hitoshi couldn't use One For All enough to get in his way.
And so, he made his move.
One huge blast of fire, shadow following behind him like fingers reaching for a loved one. The Prince of Hell struck his opponent like a lightning bolt strikes the earth. A punch that could send All Might reeling, and a turn in the same moment that was supposed to have him dive through the door and into hell.
But Hitoshi moved also.
And he moved faster.
How he achieved it, Izuku would never find out. Perhaps he had simply used far more of One For All than Izuku had anticipated. Maybe Hitoshi had simply read and guessed his attack correctly.
Maybe it was just sheer dumb luck.
But Hitoshi moved, and he avoided the blow. Instead, he had moved inward, just as Izuku's first had struck perfectly at where Hitoshi had been only a heartbeat ago.
Hitoshi, however, had also calculated wrong. He'd probably thought he'd have the momentum to simply grab and throw Izuku, using his own power and weight against him. That, however, was not the case. The explosion, in such a small corridor, was enough to contain them both, to affect both of their trajectories.
And so Izuku did indeed go hurling towards the void-door.
And he took Hitoshi with him.
They passed through into the darkness together in less time than it took to draw a breath.
And together, the Prince of Hell and the Inheritor of One For All fell into shadow and darkness.
The Prince of Hell opened his eyes.
All he saw was black sand. Black sand that stretched out in all directions, forever. Above him was no night sky but the dark that lived in the souls of men.
For a moment, he felt so alone.
So utterly, crushingly alone.
He knew, instantly, his place in the universe. He was nothing but a speck, a mote of ash, in the vast winds of time and space. The universe would exist eternal, and he would be less than an atom on its skin.
This was the desert of his achievements. The monument to all he had accomplished and ever would accomplish.
This was the Oblivion of his making.
For a moment he almost fell to his knees, shattered at the vast, inhuman revelations that threatened to collapse down onto his mind and bury him under its weight forever. He could feel his feet sinking into the black sand that glittered with the light of every soul that had ever been born, lived, died, and born again in the eternal cycle of the universe's great wheel.
But then he remembered his place.
He whispered to himself, as both man and celestial, as in the end, all beings on earth would be. He took his own arms and pulled himself up from the ever-sinking sand, then stood and looked again.
This time he was no mote but a fire, a fire that blazed here and now in the might of its greatness.
A fire that burned with the blue of hell itself.
"WE ARE HERE."
His voice shook the sky itself, and the earth split before him, opening to the vast gulfs of clawing hands from those the desert had swallowed.
"WE ARE HOME."
And Hell acknowledged him, the black sands closing once more, showing a path of glittering marble, red as fresh shed blood, before him.
"Where is Hitoshi Shinsou?"
The question came as he turned, looking across the infinite gulf of the desert for the friend he had so stupidly dragged into hell with him.
For a moment his heart pounded, reminding him that he was alive here, not dead as he had once been before. His body had more weight, it had more solidity than before. He stepped forward, calling out, "BRING ME HITOSHI SHINSOU."
Hell, again, obeyed, bowing to its lord.
And Hitoshi was brought to him.
And he was shimmering gold.
He was curled onto the sand, and Izuku could see how the sand was trying to consume him, rising to lap at him like soft waves. Yet the golden glow that surrounded him was fighting it back, dissipating it.
Morningstar could see figures around him. They were as shades, flickering with their own soft glow that Izuku knew, instinctively, could have only come from heaven. The angels of the realm Morningstar would never know watched over Hitoshi with grim faces.
He knew none but one of them, and it was that one which looked to him as he approached, the others softly fading into nothing.
Toshinori's eyes met Morningstar's, his shade nothing more than a vague shape against the still gale of Hell's winds.
Then he smiled, and he too faded.
"Hitoshi? Are you alright?" Morningstar stepped forward and held out a hand.
Hitoshi groaned, as if waking from a deep sleep, and his eyes flickered open. For a moment, he stared almost blindly at Morningstar, as if seeing him for the very first time. Morningstar was shocked to see how brightly his eyes glowed in the infinite void. They were the pools of his soul, and his was a mighty soul to behold. Unyielding and strong, yet soft and kind with a deep love that could never be extinguished.
His was a soul strong enough to enter Hell and still know that Heaven existed above.
"I-Izuku?" He reached out and grabbed Morningstar's hand. The Prince of Hell pulled his best friend to his feet, and Hitoshi glanced around.
To Morningstar's mild surprise, the touch hurt. There was a soft buzz of faith around Hitoshi, but it did not feel like his faith. Rather, it was the faith of those who watched over him, the faith of the shades that were both separate and part of Hitoshi's soul.
Morningstar had to flex his hand to get the feeling back into it.
"Welcome to Hell," he said simply.
"What- how- ?"
"You came through the door with me, by accident. Sorry about that." Morningstar looked back to him, noting how the soft glow flowed from him like steam rising from a lake. Hitoshi was looking at his own arms with wide eyes, amazed at what he was seeing. If Morningstar trained his eyes harder, he could almost see the hands resting on Hitoshi's shoulders.
Hands of guardians that existed with him.
Hand of those protecting him, even here, even now, even in the darkest place the universe had to offer. That was how he'd survived the crossing.
Even in Hell, angels reached out to those they loved.
Morningstar turned and began walking, following the red marble path, feeling both lost and at home, as one might do walking into a place that had changed in the years since their last visit.
"Come on, we need to find the gate."
"Gate? What gate?"
"The gate to Hell. This is just the outskirts." Morningstar looked back to Hitoshi and offered what he hoped was a confident smile.
It felt nothing like one.
"We've got to get to Oblivion, and I guess you're coming along for the ride."
OH NO DA BOIZ ARE IN DA HELL PIT. Though thankfully Hitoshi has some angelic protection, apparently. Which is nice. I wanted to do something different here instead of have them directly fight one another, though they did have a bit of a scuffle there cos, well, I think writing a Izuku vs Hitoshi fight in this would be super fun and I had to tease it a little.
But YEAH, they're in hell now. What do? I think a fair few of you have been wondering when/if we'd ever journey back to hell, especially since the Baron's came asking for Izuku's help. I thought now would be a good time to actually have that take place after playing the exam arc mostly straight.
But, unfortunately, the next chapter might be a long time in coming. It really makes me feel bad to announce this, but I'm going on a hiatus. And not a month or something, but a long hiatus, maybe a few months, maybe more. The thing is that lately I've been feeling burned out creatively, and I think a fair few of you have picked up on that in the chapters, especially over the exam arc. I feel like I've not been giving you guys my best for a while, and while I tried to just plow through it, I've realized that was a mistake.
Lately, I was listening to a podcast interview with a writer I respect and they gave a comment, "Your favourite story, should be the one you're working on" and it struck me like a truck because I realized that right now, His Father's Son isn't my favourite story. But I want it to be. I still love the fic, I love thinking about it and coming up with ideas for it, and I unashamedly love the universe I've built for it, but writing it has become a chore that I can't keep up with. I need a big, BIG, creative reset, especially with this coming into the last arc of the story where I REALLY want to blow it out the water. After all we've got the Himiko arc to conclude, the Shoto mystery to pop back up (you guys thought I'd forgotten that? NOPE), what's going on with Azrael, the mysterious Gabriel child, and Inko's strange sickness AND to tie it into the Overhaul arc. It's a lot of things to juggle, and I don't want to just throw out some half-arsed excuses and poorly planned ideas to wrap it up with.
So yeah, tl;dr I'm going on an extended hiatus until I get my mojo back. Hopefully when (and it will be when, not if) I return, you'll all return with me. Until then you guys, keep safe, keep healthy, and look after yourselves.
Till next time! PEACE!
