A/N: Sorry Iceman, this week's another cliffhanger I'm afraid...
Midoriya drove, brain working overtime. They'd taken Sasaki's car, the keys mercifully left behind in his office. What if Toga had taken another face already, a member of the top ten, perhaps? He would never find her then, and he would be back at square one, looking for the impostor in the ranks. Streets raced by in a blur, the evening rush hour not yet jamming the highways with red brake lights and exhaust fumes. Neat suburban houses turned into tower blocks without gardens, turned into gleaming skyscrapers, images of heroes projected on their sides. There was Wash's inanely grinning face, twenty feet tall on an advert for a deodorising spray, Countdown reclining over a velvet chaise lounge, half a dozen designer watches strapped to each forearm.
It was simultaneously too fast and too slow, every second another second that his adversary could use to her advantage, but… he still didn't have a plan. Toga could disable him and claim that he was the impostor, and there was nothing he could say to the contrary. And now thanks to him Kacchan was probably across the country confronting Countdown, and the only person who could vouch that he was the real Midoriya was Sasaki, who had spent years in Toga's torture basement.
He'd always dreamed of being a hero, but he'd never dreamed it would feel like this. Was this really how it felt? Like every ticking second was another second that people were in danger? Like he had to leap forward, and do something, anything, regardless of if he had a plan, regardless of his odds of success. Was that what he had been dreaming of, all these years? He'd always been willing. His feet had always moved without thinking, putting his body between others and danger, with no thought of whether he would succeed or fail. But now, more was at stake. Throwing himself into the situation held no danger for him personally. Only others would bear that consequence, if he failed, or worse, if his flames consumed them. He needed to do more than throw himself at the problem.
They turned onto a sliproad out onto the highway towards the television studio where Uraraka's show was filmed, a costumed Red Riot grinning down from a billboard that advertised a new sort of angle grinder. Heroes saturated the world, towered over it. Was Midoriya really fit to stand among them?
The telltale spiral trail of Nejire chan's quirk hung in the sky above them as they took the turning for the TV studio. The signs for Uravity's filming were clear, pasted over a weathered sign pointed the way to the soundstage for the cancelled movie Dark Shadow. The security guards raised the barriers for them without question, though whether this was because they recognised Midoriya or security was simply lax, Midoriya wasn't sure.
In the carpark, Midoriya looked over at Sasaki, who was slumped back in the passenger seat, his greying hair falling over his gaunt face. He looked exhausted. He'd struggled to walk to the car. There was no way that he'd be any help in a fight.
"I can't take you with me," said Midoriya.
Sasaki's yellow eyes gleamed. "I can still help you." He inclined his head, just slightly, and Midoriya was briefly struck by how perfectly Toga had imitated his mannerisms. He paused, seeming to consider something. "Give me your hand," he said, and Midoriya did.
Sasaki's hand was bony, his skin cool and dry against Midoriya's palm. His eyes glowed softly as he used his quirk, clockwork spinning behind them, and Midoriya found himself holding his breath. There had never been too much information on exactly how Sir Nighteye's quirk had worked, though the hero forums had been rife with speculation.
"Don't let anyone know she's there until you have eyes on her," Sasaki said, his eyes turning back to yellow as he released Midoriya's hand. "If she gets wind of you hunting her, we lose any chance of capturing her. And we must capture her, whatever the cost." He turned from Midoriya, his gaze on the dashboard of the sedan, his focus somewhere in the middle distance. "Go ahead, I'll follow."
"But your body-" said Midoriya.
"You are the last person who should be lecturing anyone on minding their own wellbeing," said Sasaki, sharply. "Now, go!"
The studio looked like a normal industrial building from the outside, like a factory or a warehouse, the company logo emblazoned on the front wall. It was a far cry from Uraraka's agency, with its gleaming, space-age exterior. He pushed through the front door and was met with what looked to his inexperienced eyes like chaos, people with headsets hurrying back and forth.
"There you are!" A production assistant charged up to Midoriya, clipboard under one arm. "You were due in makeup ten minutes ago." Midoriya froze, the shards of his plan falling apart in his mind. If Toga was missing in action, he didn't have a way of finding her. And if she found that he was here, it would be simple for her to turn into someone else and vanish into the crowds. He needed to find her quickly.
"Where was I supposed to be?" he asked. He put a little steel into his voice. "Tell me."
The assistant, a young man who dressed like a high-schooler, in t-shirt, jeans and Galeforce sneakers, froze under Midoriya's gaze. "The dressing rooms, but-"
"Then take me there," said Midoriya, interrupting him. It wasn't exactly heroic behaviour, but it was his best bet for catching Toga.
The assistant hesitated a second before he nodded, probably weighing his chances of getting in trouble for obeying versus disobeying Midoriya, but he took Midoriya's arm and hustled him through the complex towards the dressing rooms, a confusing warren of temporary corridors and doors marked staff only.
Midoriya slowed as he heard his own voice, grabbing the assistant's arm to stop him. His mirror image, Toga, was in the dressing room ahead, talking to Todoroki, who was in his showy Permafrost outfit, glittering white cape and all. Midoriya felt woozy as he watched himself tilt his head sympathetically, hand on Todoroki's shoulder.
"Ensetsu's a sensible kid," Not-Midoriya was saying. "You should talk to him."
"I know-" Todoroki's voice was tired. "But every time I do it makes it worse- we end up at each other's throats."
Midoriya grabbed the assistant by his collar, dragging him out of sight through a nearby doorway. He lowered his voice to speak. "Get away from here," he hissed, and the guy had enough sense not to question him.
Midoriya stepped from the alcove and headed to the dressing room, hoping he could get there before Toga noticed him.
But not-Midoriya was staring at him as he reached the door, smile wide and toothy, green eyes glittering. Midoriya watched with horror as Todoroki turned from Toga, following her gaze.
"Midoriya-?" Todoroki's mismatched eyes widened with confusion.
Midoriya yelled, leaping forward, time seeming to slow, his quirk-augmented body propelled as fast as it could go. But his mirror was as fast as him, and closer to Todoroki. Red bloomed on Todoroki's chest as the tip of her knife jutted out from his sternum.
Todoroki gave a noise like air being expelled from his lungs, his breath frost in the air as he collapsed forward. Midoriya caught him by the shoulders, reaching him before he hit the floor.
Not-Midoriya grinned as she licked Todoroki's blood from her knife, twirling it with her thick, scarred fingers. "Izukuu," she crooned, in Midoriya's own voice. "You escaped already? I'm going to have to lock you up better this time. Maybe cut off your arms." She tilted her head as she gestured with the knife, green eyes creasing at the corners.
Midoriya cradled Todoroki's body in his arms. There was blood, too much blood. He ripped fabric from his shirt to try and staunch it, but his hands were coated in it. Todoroki was still breathing, but barely. "Todoroki," Midoriya breathed. "No-" If only Kacchan were here, or Ensetsu, or anyone who could have cauterised the wound. His flames were useless here.
"You could have prevented this, Izuku," said Toga, calmly, as Midoriya pressed his slippery hands to Todoroki's chest, the blood growing colder, the pulse weaker. "If you'd just stayed in the basement where I put you-"
Midoriya put Todoroki down gently, his eyes on the chest wound, which had started to frost over, the flow of blood ebbing as it crystallised. "No," he said, a gruff edge to his voice. His hands were shaking, adrenaline keening through his body. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare put this on anyone but you, Himiko. You made a choice. Everyone you hurt, everyone you killed, that was your choice. You could have given yourself over to the authorities at any point."
"Spoken like a true hero," smiled Toga. "I suppose that's your plan? Turn me over to the authorities?"
Midoriya tried to blot out the shallow, wet sound of Todoroki's breath as he faced down his grinning doppelganger. What would All Might do? Did he have the luxury of doing what All Might would have done? Or did he need to do, in Ingenium's words, what was necessary? Slowly, he nodded. "Your game's up," he said.
Toga gave a bark of laughter. "Is it?" she asked. "Is it really a choice? To live your whole life without expressing your quirk, or be branded a villain? To go directly to Tartarus, or keep trying to change the world?" On the wall behind her, the screen silently showed the set of Uravity's talk show, the audience applauding as the opening graphics displayed, Uravity stepping out onto the stage.
"You do the right thing," said Midoriya, squaring his jaw.
"I couldn't have put it better myself," said Toga, with a small smile, her gaze flickering to something beyond Midoriya, her brow wrinkling fractionally. She tossed him the knife she'd used to stab Todoroki. Midoriya caught the knife by the handle, slick and bloody in his hands.
"Oh, thank goodness, Lemillion," said Toga quickly, and Midoriya spun to look behind him. "It's Toga. She's hurt Todoroki."
Lemillion was standing in the doorway to the dressing room, his mouth a grim line. He looked like he'd just come from makeup, his red cape billowing behind him. "Sir said you'd be here," he said, glancing down at Midoriya.
Midoriya gritted his teeth. He was holding the knife used to stab Todoroki, and there was a blood on his shirt and hands. It wasn't a great look, he had to admit.
But Lemillion wasn't looking at him. Lemillion's gaze was locked on Toga.
"Who won our sparring match, Midoriya?" he asked, a tension in his whole body, resonating through his voice.
Toga's expression shifted to worry, her green eyes wide. "Toga is right here, we don't have time for games."
"Who won our sparring match?" Lemillion repeated, slowly.
Midoriya held his breath as Toga shook her head. "You did," she said.
Lemillion moved fast, golden lightning crackling over his body as he moved towards Toga, fist clenched. Midoriya watched as if in slow motion as Lemillion struck, Toga's neck snapping with the force of the blow, an instantaneous kill.
And then the flames ignited. It was the first time Midoriya hadn't been within them, and their brightness surprised him, forcing him to squint as Lemillion staggered back from them, clutching the space where his arm had been.
His arm. Midoriya felt sick. Lemillion's arm was missing, a charred stump just below the shoulder. That must have been everything that was corporeal at the moment of impact.
Toga laughed, rising off-kilter from her crouch within the flames, her voice still Midoriya's but more manic, her grin wider and toothier, no longer imitating his speech patterns. "Wow, you really tried to kill me, didn't you, mr number one hero. Guess I should return the favour."