'Without understanding the origins of our quirks, truly abominable practices have arisen. With each stride we make in individual rights and freedoms, it seems that our culture takes a step back. Too many are sold into marriage at a young age in the hopes that mixing certain bloodlines will lead to powerful new quirks. This practice is seen very much in the deceased Imperial Heir of Japan who inherited the power of hydrokinesis and geomancy from his parents. His power was such that when Her Grace the Empress was slain during a revolt in Taiwan, he sunk the island of Taiwan in his rage. He would later commit seppuku in atonement. That ritual suicide was needed to placate the populace even slightly is perhaps more telling of the state of the society we live in.'
—Excerpt from 'Questioning the Modern Age of Heroics' by Andile Sithole.
Operating a train, as it turns out, isn't as simple as applying ice and fire in an engine to make it run. No, there are dozens of systems and safety protocols that they need to decipher. Izuku spends his time talking Shouto through the order of operations, not knowing precisely what to do but having an intuitive sense of what must be done first.
He very much doubts this would work in the real world. If they were under the real sun, the train would have exploded with their shoddy methodology. But the abyss destroys all laws of logic and rationality. They need the train to work and thus it will if only because of the influence Shouto's story exerts on the abyss.
They do get it to run after a day of fiddling with it.
It sets off slowly, the engine room rattling and the pipes shaking as Shouto carefully generates steam. His eyes are narrowed as he generates more ice and slowly intensifies his hellfire. The superheated vapour travels through the pipes, eating away corrosion and burning parasites that have found a home in the old pipes of the train.
The train groans to life, renewed and reinvigorated by the infusion of power. It marches forward slowly as gears unused for centuries move in concert once more, groaning and squeaking as they are forced to life once more. This train is a piece of human engineering and quirk marvel combined, something wholly unique and perhaps a sign of what quirks will look like in the future, less biological marvels and more mutations that fuse together modern technologies—Jirou is his first thought after he remembers her name, and undoubtedly there are others.
And then the train is moving. An inch at a time at first but, as Shouto gains more confidence in controlling the volume of steam he generates, the train moves faster until they are traversing the glassy ground, leaving trails cracked glass that leak the light from the birth of the universe.
Once the train has enough momentum, Todoroki takes a step back. Todoroki grabs Izuku and throws him over his shoulder, though not callously.
Todoroki sets Izuku down in the next car on a rather comfortable chair, his motions gentle. Izuku shrugs and leans into the leather chair, trying to get as comfortable as possible even as Shouto brings him a footstool to ensure his legs aren't in an awkward position. He might as well since Izuku can't go anywhere with his useless legs.
Do you think he'll survive? Mikumo asks when Shouto is gone.
Izuku looks to the chair opposite him, a deep red leather cracked by time and with faded brass studs. If he looks from the right angle, he can see an apparition of his brother, dark of hair like their father and freckled more so than even Izuku.
"I'll make sure he does."
You love him when you're not trying to kill each other.
"We've spent months fighting me in this place. He's carried me on his back and kept me alive. He's laid bare his soul for me and sometimes forgiven me the pain I've caused him in this. How could I not love him?"
Mikumo smiles benevolently. That is… good. You are good for each other. All three of you. I'm proud of you. Just, please stop trying to kill each other.
Like his powers, Mikumo vanishes, leaving Izuku deeply unsettled. Ever since he came back, Mikumo has been nothing but kind—except for the long stretches of silence—and it makes him wonder if Mikumo is truly his brother at this point.
Metaphors and literal truths are much the same in this dark place.
An hour or so later, when the train is chugging along over a waterfall of cascading stars, Todoroki returns. He looks tired even if he won't ever admit to a moment of weakness. His friend of sorts, and ally of necessity, sits where Mikumo did and stares past the creatures of nuclear fire and cruel singularity.
"Do you still think you can be a hero?" Shouto asks randomly. "After all this. How do you even care for people?"
"A long time ago there was this girl in a sunflower dress," Izuku answer wistfully. "It's been so long. You'd think I'd remember more than that but it kinda just fades away, you know. She had a bad day, just one bad day. No child ever wants to kill someone and she didn't even know what was happening with her quirk. I saw it and I couldn't protect her. I'm going to be a hero so nothing like that happens again. So that officers don't get away with calling a little girl a villain."
Shouto hums, not looking away from the spot impossibly far away. Izuku follows his gaze, seeing nothing with his eyes, but feeling an echo of it.
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing," Shouto says quickly and that is why Izuku knows it to be a lie.
"I don't believe that. You think I can't hear the call?" Izuku smiles bitterly. "There are… echoes, of its power."
"Then what is it?"
"You know, I'm not sure. Power, yes, but of what flavour I can't say. It might be the singersthatmustneverbeawokenfortheyspelltruedeath or something else completely."
When he looks to Shouto, the boy is on his knees, ears bleeding. Izuku blinks in confusion. Then he rolls his eyes in disappointment.
"Oh, you think that's bad. I got a full dose of it a while ago."
"How are you not insane?"
"Shouto, I'm batshit insane. I have voices in my head—one who I think might literally be my twin brother— and I've committed suicide for answers. I've got no preservation instinct considering that I keep on fighting the person carrying me. I am very likely clinically insane and not getting better despite what my counsellor thinks." He smirks cruelly for he must play a role. "But in this place, sanity is a weakness. You're a broken little thing just like me. The inky blackness of the abyss filled my cracks. What will fill yours?"
"You called me Shouto."
"I'd apologise if I cared, but I think we're close enough for that. I'll let you call me Izuku."
"Izuku," he says slowly, testing the word.
Together, they ride an incongruous train through the darkness between realms.
It is a slow ride, leisurely even, and it gives them a chance to rest. Not that Izuku needs it. Even with his powers shattered, he is still more a creature of this place beneath the skin than he is human.
Shouto only dozes for an hour or two before he needs to power the train with his powers. He works determinedly regardless, never complaining or even voicing an ounce of displeasure. He says little and Izuku has no reason to breach the silence.
Though, when he does breach that glacial silence, it is usually memorable.
Izuku wakes one day to find Shouto above him, strangling the life out of him and screaming obscenities. It is hard to parse through his strangled words, but he makes out 'Fuyumi' and 'mother' as his vision blackens.
And then he remembers that whilst his legs may not work, he isn't wholly powerless. One For All fills his arm and he punches Shouto. His friend yelps in pain, flying and crashing into the table.
"You awake now?" Izuku asks, no more upset than the first two nightmares that sent Shouto into a murderous rage.
The first destroyed an entire car of the train. The second ended with every bone in Shouto's arm broken as retribution. It may have been spiteful, but Izuku is sick and tired of forgiving anything and everything.
Somehow, he knows this isn't the way everyone hopes he stops forgiving people.
Shouto says nothing, staring at the broken chair leg. There is an air of exhaustion to him, pervasive in the same way that snow pervades the arctic. Driving away the chill with a fire is possible, but inevitably the cold will snuff out all warmth.
Izuku must fill the silence with stories of the things he's seen during his deep dives of the abyss: glittering causality beams over the Tannhauser gates and worlds lost to time like tears in the rain; the undying whales whom he misses and hopes have found a measure of safety in their odd journey for survival; the trees that granted him shelter and protection whilst he learnt of his powers; and all the other glorious things in the abyss.
The train bursts through another layer of the abyss, losing much of its momentum. Izuku isn't certain exactly why it can do so but he assumes it has to do with what powers it, Entropic steam made from the flames of hell and the aegis of a legendary hero.
Shouto stands tiredly, ready to get the train up to speed once more.
"Wait," Izuku commands, observing the landscape with both his eyes and his sense for the abyss. He may have terrible spatial location in the real world, but the abyss is an open book to him.
The landscape looks familiar, especially that lake of chaos flame. "Oh, this is the place. Come on, we need to do something outside."
Shouto asks no questions and carries Izuku once the train slows down. He waits until it's at a slow enough speed before jumping out.
They land easily in a valley that looks like it was formed by a great kick. Izuku points to the area he can feel the source of energy, a debt that must be fulfilled and a wish unforgotten, beyond a series of hills and valleys.
It will take them a while to reach the place where Izuku experienced the full strength of One For All, walking through the ruin and devastation he will one day cause with simple punches and kicks.
But, using One For All always generates green lightning and many creatures feed on that power source. It makes him realise he'll have to observe the long-term effects of his mentor's quirk on this place. That is, however, a concern for a later date
Shouto battles an Iron Giant, generating a sword of swirling hellfire and matching blows with the knight. Each swing of it's lightning-infused sword is relentless, a mountain of force and destruction bearing down on them.
Shouto rolls his eyes.
A hellfire sword a mile long materialises in his hand. He swings it, cutting through the giant's metal sword, and decapitating it.
Another contender takes its place, a dream serpent seeking revenge for its fallen brethren that Izuku ate once months ago, before the Sports Festival and under the tutelage of hounds that exist in the corners of time.
It soon becomes a running battle for the creature flies and swoops down to consume them. Its scales are too tough for Shouto to pierce and it rolls between Shouto's gouts of his fire.
So, Shouto lets them be eaten.
Its insides may be unreal logic and lava streams, but Shouto generates more and more ice until they find a path to the creature's heart. He plunges the flaming blade through the creature's heart easily, used to this after all the creatures they've killed.
The flying serpent crashes violently to the ground, dislodging Izuku from Shouto's back. He falls through the angles of time within the creature and nearly falls into a vortex of reverse time. The only thing that saves him is an errant shard of ice broken off in the crash.
He waits until Shouto finds him, glad that he has the strength to keep his grip for hours. He catches a glimpse of Shouto's shoes before the rest of him comes into view.
"I could let you fall," Shouto says instead of lifting him up. His eyes are cold, frigid and unrelenting.
They remind Izuku of Endeavour, chilling in their willingness to accomplish any goal.
"I suppose you could," Izuku agrees. "I suppose it'll make you feel better for a while but it won't bring back your mother or your sister. What's done is done. You can still reach them in the real world. But not without me."
"I hate you."
Izuku rolls his eyes. Grins a sly grin. Says, "I love you."
A long moment passes before Shouto reaches down and grabs Izuku's wrist, hauling him up. It seems a joke is the right answer this time.
The moment they're away from the ledge, Izuku takes the opportunity to punch Shouto in the face, breaking his nose. He lands on top of Shouto and pins him down with a glowing hand to the chest. Izuku throws another punch and doesn't stop until Shouto is a bloody mess.
"Fucking make your choices quicker next time," Izuku snarls, wiping his bloody fists along his pants. "Now let's get out of here."
Purely out of spite, Shouto drags Izuku across the ground instead of carrying him. Izuku rolls his eyes even as bits of bones and shards of ice slice his back. Eventually, Shouto's arm will get tired and be forced to carry him properly.
They leave the belly of the beast together, a cripple and a warrior tied by hate and blood. No better in their relationship, but also no worse. Sometimes, not making something worse is the best outcome.
Shouto breaks through the creature's mouth with a spear of ice the size of a building. He burns away the tooth shards that fall. Once the opening is stable, they leave and keep heading to the source of the wish.
They crest one last hill. There, at the lowest point of the valley beyond, where shattered stone and chaos flames meet, is what they have been walking towards.
The bones of the last wish-granting dragon, magnificent even in death. Even with its tail missing, the bones of the dragon carry a certain majesty to them, benevolent and dignified in equal measure.
Izuku smiles, glad for once in the last few months.
"Take me to those bones."
Shouto does so without question, ambling along slowly. There is no rush. Any creature that remains would have fled in terror from Shouto's power. With no threats, he can conserve his energy.
Izuku reaches over Shouto's shoulder and lays his hand on the skull and feels an echo of the wish-granter's life. He feels the warmth of its last wish, an oath that binds them together, waiting to be discharged.
"Thank you, Eao. Freely, your bones, I wear."
The dragon is dead, its timeline ended. Yet, he still feels a surge of affection from the dragon. He looks at the dragon's spine and knows what must be done.
"How the fuck do you expect me to do this? That would have been nice to know."
He feels the amusement from the bones as it cautions patience. Which is ridiculous. He's spent months unable to walk. The only reason his legs aren't shrivelled or his muscles atrophied is because of One For All maintaining his muscle mass. He's able to use more of it because of that, but that isn't much of a consolation prize.
Izuku would much rather kick things to death than punch them.
"Going to explain?"
"That, my ignorant disci—oh no, don't you dare Eao, he isn't my disciple—and just ignore that outburst. That is a wish-granting dragon I made a pact with. I know it was stupid but, in my defence, I thought my mother would die if I didn't."
Shouto is stiff. "And what was the pact?"
"It wants to grant wishes. This was its last wish. But it couldn't just expect me to accept a boon and a curse for no reason. So, it showed me a sign of its goodwill. It saved Shinsou from my powers in the past. It promised me it's bones in the now, in this relative present. And, one day to come, my disciple will have wings. It also gave me a bunch of truths."
"I still think it was stupid. How do you know it didn't sever your spine intentionally? Or engineer things for you to sever your spine."
Oh, I like him, Mikumo says. He's a lot smarter than you.
"A good question. It's a matter of paradox, really. It doesn't exist in linear time as we do. This is Eao's present, so it knew what would come when we spoke. So, it knew we would be here one day. My spine would always be severed so it gave me a way out. I suppose that worries me more than anything else because it means the enemy is coming."
"You keep on saying the enemy. Who did you anger?"
The strings return and Izuku is helpless to fight them. He speaks for something greater now, the story of Shouto Todoroki.
"Not my enemy. Yours."
Izuku gestures theatrically, the only hope Shouto will know it is not him speaking in truth. "My life is an abomination in both the void and the real. But you? Entropic ice and hellfire. With the right application, your ice could be used to freeze time, to shackle the eternally free, and erode all bonds. Your fire consecrates worlds in your image. This enemy is the catalyst, the darkest moment before you must pull the sword from the stone and choose your destiny. But there is a cost to these things."
"I hate it when you do that."
Izuku feels a massive gust of wind, breaking him from the puppet state, and looks up. Flying through layer after layer of the abyss is a dragon moving just faster than the speed of light.
"Oh, look, it's Tokoyami's dragon."
The dragon appears suddenly before them even though he still sees the dragon flying through the abyss. Time and location behave weirdly when moving faster than the speed of light is involved. Moving faster than light is, in effect, time travel. The results of events are seen before the cause occurs.
"Hi there. What are you doing so far from your master?" Izuku asks cheerfully, completely ignoring Shouto's bewilderment.
/My master tasks me to find you and return you to the anathema place. Shadowking, your powers wane. You once created dreams of endless shadow upon my father's hand in your mortal vessel. Why are you so diluted?/
"What's it saying?"
Izuku waves Shouto away. He doesn't want to be a translator right now.
"That was you. I thought you were cute. Anyway, my spine's been severed and the… source, or perhaps conduit, of my powers, is shattered. I need your cousin's bones to replace my spine."
/I obey, shadowking/
The dragon lifts its too human hands and grips Eao's spine. It removes the entire column with one fluid motion, as though bones harder than adamantine are pliant as butter. Oddly, even without their main support structure, the rest of the bones stay in position.
"Help me take off my shirt." Shouto does so without question, likely too tired to care any longer. "Now, lay me flat on my stomach and give our friend some space."
It is still disconcerting that one of Todoroki's hands is warm whilst the other frigid. They linger at the base where shadows pool and plug the wound that will very likely kill him if given the opportunity. Keeping what little darkness he can generate in place to stop both the dreams of dead gods and crimson lifeblood leaking out has become second nature at this point.
The dragon and the spine it holds shrink to a more manageable size. It approaches, head bowed and spine held reverently in its human-like hands. It circles around Izuku warily until Shouto gets the idea and steps away. The dragon presses the shortened spine against Izuku's.
He's putting a lot of trust in letting the dragon come so close. Trust in Tokoyami's control of the dragon given the distance separating the two. Trust that it won't see him as an easy meal and an even easier way to increase its power.
"These bones I do accept," Izuku says solemnly, sealing the wish.
Arctic cold and explosive heat grip him in equal measure, surging through his body in a wave of torrential pain. Something tears through the flesh of his back and tears through his flesh. He muffles his screams as the spine fuses over his shattered one, replacing relatively normal vertebrae with those of a wish-granting dragon.
A flash of light later blinds him—and that might just be the pain blinding him—and the hot pain vanishes, leaving only a dull throbbing as his body acclimatises to what has just happened. He feels the crystal growths in the rest of his bones spread to the new spine, chewing away at it and leaving the bones hollow.
"Did it work?" Shouto asks, crouching beside Izuku's face. He looks worried but not the least bit disgusted by what he has just witnessed.
Izuku cocks his head curiously once the pain fades. At first, terror grips him because he still can't feel his legs. It is only after a few moments that his brain forges new pathways and a network of nerves attaches themselves to the new spine.
Then, in an act of balance Jin would be proud off, he rises off the ground with only the tips of his toes. His grin is broad as he takes small steps, getting used to the weight of his new spine. It is heavy, perhaps weighing half as much as Izuku does even after being hollowed out. But it only takes a moment of thought to infuse his back muscles with a portion of One For All.
He kicks suddenly, his legs moving with the same precision he is used to. But then trips because of the added mass in his back. Despite that, he laughs, scrambling to his feet once more.
"That feels good." He pirouettes on the spot and runs through a quick kata, savouring having sensation in the lower half his body. "Weight's way off. But I'll get used to it."
The dragon flaps its wings, drawing his attention to it. It seems contrite, almost fearful at interrupting Izuku. Or maybe it's terrified of Shouto's entropic ice coating the ground.
/Your conduit is shattered. The dreams of your sacrifice no longer reside within that form. Should you die in this state, our grace will not restore your mortal shell. You must become whole once again, shadowking/
"And how do I do that?"
/The true godflame's heat can fuse anything. The portion I possess does not burn hot enough to overcome your infernal engine. Hurry, for it hunts/
"What's—"
A psychic scream rudely interrupts Shouto.
It cuts through their minds and brings them both to their knees. Izuku recovers quickly, looks up and sees the outline of hate and entropy in the sky, layers above them. It is gargantuan in size, perhaps the size of the Milky Way. It stalks through layers of the abyss, shattering worlds and sundering entire realms of tribute.
What terrifies Izuku the most is that the power he witnesses is only the shadow of the thing, the echo of its glory, and not the true monster.
This is a creature that if loosed upon the human world under its full majesty, with the impossible logic of the deep abyss granting it power, would destroy the galaxy simply by existing. And by moving, perhaps it would sunder the entire universe.
He looks to the dragon and sees it rises feebly, a thousand cuts on its body from shielding them from the psychic attack. It makes a sound of helplessness as it slowly stands. Then it sets its legs in the ground and opens its dark maw.
The roar is thunderous, an explosion of sound and force that knocks Izuku away. It is defiance and fearlessness, a challenge against gods greater than it, so powerful that Izuku slams hard into Shouto, ears bleeding from the unexpected sound so soon after a psychic attack.
"That's the enemy," he whispers, helping Shouto up. "Now get that train moving."
They are hours away from the train. But so too is the creature. It has dozens, perhaps hundreds of layers to get through for its physical body to reach them. That gives them time to plan.
Izuku grins and picks Shouto up in a fireman's carry. The green lightning of One For All fills his body and he sets off, laughing all the while at the absurdity of his life.
The dragon, more sensibly, picks them up moments later.
-TDB-
The doorway of green light forms, breaking the barrier between real and abyss, and the World Walker becomes one with the material world. The sun's warmth fills the old form worn by the World Walker, banishing the taint of the void in purifying heat.
The neighbourhood is familiar, tainted by the operator's memories that reduce the efficiency of the World Walker. The trees and walls and the homes distract the World Walker. It stops by one tree, running a worn hand down the bark.
A tear runs down the face of the World Walker, the operator's emotions strong enough to cut through the security protocols put in place to avoid this very situation. Pushing down the operator's feelings is easy enough.
The World Walker approaches the door and knocks, hesitating only because of the operator's fear. It has been years, closer to a full decade since the operator returned to this place. This is not easy, but the World Walker's search has finally come to an end.
The door opens and reveals Inko Midoriya, mother to Izuku Midoriya and husband to Hisashi Atakani.
She is the target the World Walker has sought for so long, the final goal of a decades-long journey through dozens of worlds and a hundred throne worlds.
She is thinner than all the other Inko's at the same point in time, her features hard and eyes red with grief. She looks like a fighter, not a stay at home mother.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
The World Walker understands why she would not recognise this form. It is older, battered and bruised compared to the one she loved, that of the mortal operator. It does not change the wave of grief that the operator feels, strong enough that any combat efficiency the World Walker may have is annihilated.
The World Walker lets the coldness and brutality of the role fade away and becomes Hisashi Midoriya once more. No longer one of the most dangerous entities to walk this earth, a being capable of facing the Emperor and the Strongest Man Alive as an equal.
No, he is simply a father and husband now, a foolish man who simply loves his family.
His physical features have not changed, but the intent behind them do. His hair is still streaked with the white of age but it no longer seems like molten silver. His freckles are no longer pinpricks of the eternal light of the first dawn of creation, but that of a man who has spent too long in the sun. The horrid scars on his face don't bear the eternal memory of the glass crows that gave him the wound, crows that slew gods without thought.
Now he looks like a simple man now.
A tired old man battered and bruised by everything he has seen. He favours one leg from an old injury and slouches slightly. In all honesty, he looks like a strong breeze will knock him over.
Still, for the woman before him, he can muster a gentle smile. Seeing her makes every ache and pain vanish, washed away by the endless reservoirs of love he holds for this one woman. She is his better half, the only person he could give his heart to.
There is no one as beautiful as she is.
"Hello, Inko," he says in his usual murmur.
She freezes at his words. "Hisashi?"
"Hey dear, I've missed—"
He is interrupted by an explosive wave of force that sends him flying from the doorway and into the wall.
Hisashi groans as he flops to the ground, hurt badly—physical capacity reduced to sixty percent, the World Walker warns—and surprised that his wife has this much strength. There are many worlds where she is strong, worlds where she has developed her power, but not many where she possesses this level of power. T
"Now," she screams, her anger splitting a few atoms here and there and creating bright flashes of light. "You come back now. No, you don't get to do that!"
It is a struggle to get back to his feet. He is on the far side of fifty and his bones aren't what they used to be. Not that he was ever particularly strong, physically or emotionally.
Inko was the strong one, always fierce and always protective. She was the one who stood up for Hisashi. Still is, given how she nearly broke him without thought.
He looks up and sees the cracks on the road, the uprooted trees and the groaning metal railing. Hisashi holds back a sigh. She has always been fiery, and he will always love her for that, but now he'll have to pay the money to repair this. Still, he grins at her because even in a rage she is the most beautiful person he will meet no matter the world.
"I'm not going to ask forgiveness for leaving," he says, "But before you crush me to a fine paste, would you like to know my story?"
"Speak."
"It's a long one. And I'd rather tell Izuku at the same time as well."
His son is the only other person he loves. Seeing him, seeing the man his baby boy became, is something he has dreamt of for years. In the dark times, when his quest seemed impossible, the memory of Izuku kept him going.
For some reason, that sets her off.
The flare of power is magnificent and the shockwave of force she directs tears through layers of concrete—and heats up the air at the edges, turning it to plasma. It would send him to the hospital for a few months, perhaps instantly kill him, were he not who he is.
Hisashi Midoriya, once Atakani, activates the most basic portion of his quirk and breathes fire. It starts deep in his chest, a spark of heat igniting at his command, and rising through his throat. He parts his lips, shapes them like an O, and exhales a gout of pitch-black fire.
The dark and infernal fires of the godflame lash out and incinerate the shockwave, the ties to whatever dead god Inko borrows power from burning away in the might of the first flame. The afterimage of the god attached to that attack burns in Hisashi's image, granting him a tiny portion of strength. Enough so that it heals one of his broken ribs.
He lets the flames fade before they can cause permanent damage. And before they start another riot. He would prefer not to have another Purge, especially not in his hometown.
"You know," he says to the silence, a sly grin on his face, "communication is key for a healthy marriage."
She always did appreciate his jokes, no matter how bad they were.
Inko is silent for one more moment. Then, she stalks forward, all anger and old grief and unconscious grace. Every step she takes seems to make reality waver. It also makes him realise a joke may not have been the best answer.
"You left."
she slaps him.
"Without a word."
She slaps him again.
"We thought you were dead."
The third slap is instead a punch, one that knocks him flat on his ass.
He winces, having forgotten she took up boxing at some point in her marriage and wipes away the blood gingerly. His nose isn't broken, but he'll have to find a healer soon. At his age, shrugging off an injury just isn't feasible. Weeks from now he'll feel every wound from today.
"Okay, I deserved that. And more," he adds, feeling the pulse of her power. "And if you want a divorce, I won't fight it at all. But can I just talk to you and Izuku."
She snarls, and a deep gouge tears its way across the ground, missing him by a few inches. He gulps, wondering if, after all, he's gone through, today is the day he dies. At the hands of his wife, no less.
"You asshole!"
Feeling the sudden flare of power, he decides discretion is the better part of valour.
"You know what, I think I'll come back when you're not so angry."
The World Walker takes over and dodges the next shockwave, burning away the third one as well. It burns through the barrier between the real world and the abyss, generating a doorway and scurries through it.
Hisashi takes control once more as he lands hard on the ground. It takes him a moment to realise it isn't the ground but rather dark scales.
He glances up and meets the gargantuan eyes of an abyssal dragon, one old as the universe itself and watching something in the far distance. Hisashi stands on its human-like hands, protected from the raging winds of the damned that would tear his flesh off and wondering what in the hell woke up something from the very depths of the abyss.
"Okay, clearly I need better communication skills. What do you think?" he asks of the dragon.
The creature only stares at him in contempt. It will take him to his next destination in return for a decade of his life.
Hisashi smiles back at it. He's been making deals and promises for decades. A lot of which are still unfulfilled. One day, the creatures will come to collect. But he's got time until that payment is due. This is perhaps one of the most benign.
Nothing at all like his deal to free a world from a bloody nightmare with fire in exchange for the safe shelter of his blood. And, in all honesty, he has no interest in going to that realm for another decade or so.
Besides, this deal is an easy one to make. He's already bargained with another creature for an extended lifespan.
-TDB-
Izuku stands on the roof of the train, scanning the horizon for the enemy.
He can see the shape of it, the outline of eternal death and insatiable hunger in the fabric of the darkness still stuck two layers below them. It rages against the creatures and tactics Izuku uses to distract it for a little while: hordes of dragons that slowed it down; naked singularities and stars gone supernova; even a collapsing black hole.
It won't last too long. All his knowledge of the abyss and every ounce of cunning has barely kept them ahead of the Elder Thing these past few weeks. For every layer they get through, for every layer they design a trap to hold it, the Elder crosses a dozen more. The only reason they still live is that it had to start from the very bottom of the abyss.
Its power is too great, perhaps only a step below the singers the dragons warned him against. The wake its shadow creates destroys entire realms and tribute worlds and sometimes tears holes to different realities, the spectre of its future intent committing uncountable xeonocide. Simply the intent it holds causes catastrophic destruction on a cosmic scale.
And that is before its physical form simply annihilates all laws and rules once it has caught up.
Izuku shivers.
Do you remember the truths Eao gave you, brother mine? This is the Elder that hunts you.
"I know. All things are cyclical here."
He looks away from the nightmare chasing them and to the front of the train. Tokoyami's dragon beats its wings strongly, burning through any obstacles as it leads them to safety. A thick chain, each link harder than diamond, binds the dragon to the train so that any turns it makes the train will mirror.
It is odd. Logically, he knows that simply riding the dragon should be faster. Yet, in his bones, he knows that this inefficient manner of travel is faster yet. That somehow the legend of Master Railroad is the aegis that protects them from certain death.
Shouto is in the kitchen mixing some rations with the water from his ice—the beneficial property that heals, not the corrosive bit that accelerates entropy—and some canned tuna and vegetables. Izuku watches him bake something like a quiche with their limited supplies, admiring Shouto for his ingenuity. He makes it look so easy.
Certainly, Izuku could cook something better, but he's come to trust Shouto won't poison their food supplies. Nothing brings together two people better than a common enemy.
He stands beside Shouto, close enough that their skin touches and they simply stand in the warmth of the oven. No words are needed between them to convey this simple comfort, a reminder that so long as they walk together, they will not be alone. Not when their histories are so similar—the shape of the story if not the details.
Shouto will never care that Izuku brushes his finger against his wrist, not when Izuku has already broken that wrist twice. Izuku as well will never be annoyed that Shouto's elbow pushes uncomfortably in his side, not after the time Shouto beat him to a bloody pulp.
The bond between them is blood and bone and savagery. But there is also genuine affection as well. Even if those moments only come after cruel words and violent threats.
They eat the meal with their fingers. They have no cutlery and whilst Izuku would have standards in the real world, right now he just wants to satiate some of his hunger.
"We've managed to stay just ahead of it," Izuku says once they're done. "It's leading us on. Smart."
"How long have we been running?"
"Time is subjective… oh, you mean real-world time. I don't know. We're on a legendary hero's train surviving off ancient rations and flying through tracks made of nothingness."
"You lost track, didn't you?"
Izuku bares his teeth in annoyance. "Maybe three weeks. Maybe five. Don't worry too much. Things will conclude soon."
They sit in one of the lounge cars, all elegant wood and genuine leather couches. There are plaques with names written on them from a dozen different languages. Izuku doesn't recognise a single name.
Shouto stretches languidly over a recliner near a window, staring past the inky dark. Stars streak by, a horde of wolves chasing them for sustenance. There is beauty to be found in this place, but also so much death and ruin.
Even after the Elder Thing destroys everything it passes, new forms of life will rise up and take the place of the dead. Odd and alien and maybe even terrible forms of life, but there may be friends to be made amongst the stars and the void-that-binds.
"You keep on looking to it," Izuku says once he notices Shouto is looking somewhere else completely. "Do you know what it is?"
"I think I've always been searching for it." Shouto breaks away from whatever holds his attention and looks to Izuku, his mismatched eyes certain. "I should know what it is. Its name is written in my bones."
"You're starting to sound like me."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"I'm mad so who knows." He smiles crookedly. "We'll get there eventually, no matter the cost."
"That's what worries me the most. I killed my mother and sister for—"
"They weren't your family."
"You said metaphors were more important than truths here. I slit the throat of my sister and drowned my mother, both with my hands. Those are metaphors but they're also literal truths. And you made me do it."
He hates seeing Shouto like this. You can't tell his emotions by his facial features. No, it's found in the set of his shoulders and the tension in his calves. Thankfully, Izuku has experience from reading Tokoyami who expresses himself in a similar manner and the months spent with Shouto.
"Let me distract you. What do you know of Master Railroad?"
He gestures wide to encompass the train. It is an elegant thing if dated, more wood and leather than modern steel and plastic. The patterning is the distinctive purple that made Master Railroad so recognisable, a garish colour but one that Izuku has come to appreciate as a safe harbour.
"Not much. Why?"
"Knowing your history is important if only for posterity's sake. You see, Master Railroad was one of the original members of the New Heroes, the ones who rose up from the chaos of the Second Dark Age centuries ago."
Izuku's voice deepens an octave, gaining a lilting quality. This is the voice of a storyteller, a new role that he must play for Shouto. Right now, he is nothing more than a puppet dancing to the strings Shouto creates by his very presence.
"He was at times a commander when they battled warlords across the world, his train transporting troops and heroes. People remember Hawkmoon and Graviton Lance for they slew Titan, the Great Tyrant, in a battle that shook a continent. I love Hawkmoon and cherish her wisdom and legacy."
He slams his hand on the table, the sharp sound echoing through the compartment.
Shouto shivers as memories of the soldiers and heroes who travelled aboard this train come to life for a moment, their shimmering forms brightening the car. They are all soldiers without borders, warriors of no nation. Men and women dedicated to protecting the sanctity of freedom and liberty no matter the cost.
Very often they paid the ultimate price and gave their lives.
"But aboard Master Railroad's train, we will speak of his deeds and his accomplishments. Listen close for this is a tale of one of the true legends, a man whose influence is silent but unquestionable. Who stood with him against the Warlord Jack Slash and his Slaughterhouse Nine?"
A dozen of the beings of light step forward in step with the drums beating loud in his veins, and salute. Izuku stands slowly and salutes them in turn, back straight and shoulders stiff.
"We honour you, brave heroes who have been forgotten to time. Your sacrifice gave Master Railroad the time bring a piece of the very sun and secure freedom for the Western seaboard of America."
Those dozen memories fade to motes of light. The motes swirl, tracing patterns of battles long past. Their names may be forgotten, but they are still legends.
He claps his hands to a simple pattern, that of blood pounding in your ears when your life is on the line. The tempo matches that of dodging between blows and striking down your enemies.
And though he claps alone, a great war drum joins him in honour of these fallen heroes. The final ode to these forgotten soldiers.
"Who stood with the legend when he fought Lung the Undying Warlord, the Great Dragon that terrorised the East Coast of America, his loyal followers, the demon Oni Lee and the Explosion Goddess Bakuda?"
Izuku claps to the beat of claws shredding flesh, of a dozen assassins striking from the shadows, and to the tempo of blasts destroying buildings.
"Who died in pain and torment as a distraction for Master Railroad to reinforce Berlin against the full might of the Empire: the joint Warlords Allfather and Kaiser at the height of their power, Fenja and Menja the Giant Sisters, the steel dog Hookwolf, and all the rest? Who fell to the control of Khepri and to the fists of Scion on their Golden Morning so that he would have the time to send them to the centre of the earth and burn in its molten core?"
He claps at the speed of those who fell to the violent delights of Warlords and villains.
He claps to the tempo of those torn to shred by steel fangs and crushed by giant fists.
He claps to the tune of those enthralled to serve the whims of a monster moments before being struck down by a physical god.
So many come forward. So many salute and disperse to motes of light, their great deeds remembered once more aboard the vessel that carried them to their doom. They pay tribute to their executioner, to the legend of Master Railroad, a joyful madness permeating the memories brought to life for one fleeting moment.
"And who stood with Master Railroad on the day of his greatest victory, a day few remember when it is without equal? The day this great legend ended Stormwind's reign over Europe without a single drop of blood. The day a Great Tyrant was defeated."
No one comes forward for there are no memories left. Izuku waits a moment, making a show of it.
"Her might eclipsed our entire generation," Izuku says gravely. "The woman who could battle Hero—forever may she rest at peace with her lover Legion—and win, Hero who is greater than All Might and Endeavour and Hawks standing together, surrendered in fear of a man whose deeds are forgotten."
The drum finally falls silent.
He claps his hand on the table, a poor substitute for the great drums.
"He went there alone, knowing it may very well have been his final battle. You see, Shouto, we are nothing compared to Stormwind. She was a Great Tyrant and it was she who kept us in a Dark Age. Her very presence defined an entire era of history."
Once more, he claps to the tune of his words.
"Her power was immense. She could create hurricanes on a whim and tear mountains down with her wind. She waged wars alone and won, worth more than a million soldiers and a thousand ships. Master Railroad should have died. Yet, the force of his legend and the strength of his will made the last Great Tyrant surrender."
He claps for the final time and lets the echo die.
Shouto watches him, enraptured by the story of one of the New Age Heroes, the second of the great Triumvirate, matched in legend only by Graviton Lance and Hawkmoon.
"We stand in the shadow of a legend. He guides us to a tragic end, a possibility to every battle he fought. Yet, he lived. We must do the same and be worthy of the heroes of our past."
No more needs to be said of the great legend.
Shouto gets back to work, powering the train with entropic ice and hellfire. He works for hours without rest, with Izuku only watching him. He should have stopped him hours ago, but the burning need to equal the great hero of their past is evident in Shouto's grim determination.
Eventually, Izuku decides enough is enough. He grabs Shouto by the hand, squeezing tight till he feels bones crack and break.
"I'll keep the train running. You go to sleep."
"No, I need to stay up."
"Please, go to sleep. I might not have all my powers back, but I'm strong enough to keep it running for a few hours."
It isn't a few hours. Shouto sleeps the better part of a day without stirring.
Izuku speaks to the dragon whilst Shouto slumbers, the only time Izuku isn't bound to a script for Shouto's sake.
/Eao wore your human skin when you and my king battled me. It was your power, your eternal darkness and Eao's wish making the godflame ineffective that exposed me to the slaver's chains/
He's clinging to the chain binding the dragon to the train, cold winds chilling his bones. It would be much worse if not for the dragon taking the brunt of it.
"You don't sound bitter."
/Bitterness is of your human form. Dark Shadow has taught me much of the skin you now wear. It is the nature of this place, shadowking. The weak serve the strong. The lines of tribute must forever continue. My service and fealty are tribute to the slaveking/
"And what is my tribute? Tell me, slave of my ally, what is my kingdom?"
/When you wear that skin, you lose your eternal wisdom. You stare at your kingdom. The very darkness, the inky blackness that births nightmares, the worlds of ruin and temples of calamity and true dark that give my father pause. All these things are yours to plunder at will. By your sacrifice do we gain slivers of true life and green lightning. By our grace, eternal your human vessel shall be/
"I don't want to live forever. Everyone I know…"
The dragon twists its head to look at Izuku. Its eyes burn orange and gamma radiation, and scars mar its snout. It is young by the scales yet to fully harden and the wings without the layers of adamantine armour.
None of that is as important as the pervasive sense of confusion that eyes convey, as though Izuku's words are so totally alien they are incomprehensible. The dragon spends a few hours in consideration.
/But they are not your peers/ it says at last, still confused. /You are king. Only another monarch can stand the test of time with you. One king rules. The prince rises. And the last must claim his throne/
"It's Shouto, isn't it?"
He already knows the answer. Perhaps he has known since the moment Shouto stood opposed to him at the Sports Festival.
/He must make the choice. As you did. As my prince of crows did/
"I hate what will become of him."
/It is a choice that must be made. You can still reclaim the connection to your power and remove him from this fate if you are brave enough to face the Elder in that mortal form. We have waited aeons for two kings, we can wait yet for the last/
A/N:
That's all from me for now. Thank you for reading this. f ya'll have questions, comments, or general feedback, let me know. Otherwise, knowing you're here is more than enough for me.
See ya next week.