Season III-B: Accelerando
'The Royal Guard of the Imperial Household has three primary duties. The first of these duties is the protection of the Emperor and the designated Royal Lines. Each member of the Royal Guard has been handpicked to be a loyal and lethal instrument to the Emperor. To defeat a Royal Guard is an incredible feat for they possess powers that defy expectation. Where an Emperor may hold the power to shatter a country, the Royal Guard possess the strength necessary to capture cities, defeat opposing quirk users, and hold back small armies.
They demonstrated each of these capabilities during the Anti-Quirk Riots by recapturing Sapporo, annihilating the extremist organisation Aorgiri Tree that aided the quirkless militia, and holding back the entirety of a special-operation platoon that managed to infiltrate the Imperial Palace. They, along with the Emperor, ensure Japan's supremacy in quirk related combat for they do not abide by the unspoken rules of Japan's Heroics industry.'
—Excerpt from 'Examining the Japanese Imperial Family: An American's Perspective' by David Hayter.
"Shouto, can we talk?"
He looks up and sees his sister Fuyumi. There is a nervousness to her and it takes all his concentration not to automatically view her soul with his right eye. With the way it has changed, he can lay bare all her thoughts and secrets. He loves her too much to try.
Right now, he's in bed well past the time he would normally be up and training. Lying in isn't something he has had the opportunity to do and today he takes advantage of that chance to be a lazy teenager.
He sits up, leaning his back against the wall. She knows him well enough to read the tiny changes in his expression and walks in. She sits on the edge of his bed, close to his knees.
For a long time, they simply look at each other. She looks so much like his mother barring the glasses and the few streaks of red hair. An insidious part of him wonders if he loved her in the past simply because she looks like his mother, looks like safety and comfort, but without any memory of betrayal.
It doesn't matter anymore. Those memories of his mother are gone, burnt away in black fire.
"Yes," he says once he realises she is waiting for his explicit permission.
"You weren't kidnapped, were you? You're too tall now."
He shakes his head. "Got lost."
"And you don't remember mother. That's why you asked me to tell you about her."
"I made a deal to survive. That was part of the cost."
She reaches out and brushes her fingers near his right eye. Her body runs cooler than his right side by about twelve degrees.
"And your eye? Can you see out of it?" His lips twitch in amusement. "I'm asking a serious question."
He looks at her and sees her nervous system in startling detail, the trail of neurons firing and crossing synaptic junctions. He could, given enough time, learn to read the electrical currents of her brain and turn those to words. But that would take decades at best.
"I know. I can see everything now. I can see your thoughts being formed even if I don't know what they mean." His gaze falls on her torso. "I can see the foetus you terminated."
She pulls back, her face a mix of horror and disgust and shame. "That's not—no one was supposed to know."
"Sorry. That wasn't kind." He blinks, letting the enhanced sight fade away. "I'm not judging you. I can just see these things. I try not to. This is the first time I've looked at you like that."
She takes a short breath. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"
"Not really. It was hard enough telling mother."
"It won't get any easier if you keep quiet."
"I know."
He extends his right hand. Black flames come to life dancing across the surface of his palms like waves crashing against the shore. Fuyumi observes them curiously, not disgusted, but also not at ease.
"Let me tell you the truth about Endeavour and me. I know you always said I had one quirk, and that it belonged to me and not him. That was wrong. The Hellfire I inherited from Endeavour is its own quirk, sitting side-by-side with mother's ice. They really are the flames of hell."
The flames shift and burn away a tiny portal to the portion of the abyss where every creature he killed burns in eternal agony. It is a tiny glimpse to the dead gods he has revived and slain, to the shambling abominations burnt in effigy, and to the worlds of blasphemous truths consecrated in his image.
He filters the image so that Fuyumi isn't struck by madness, burning away the negative influence of fluctuating quantum-state serpents trying to propagate their final moments of undeath to the real world. They mutate endlessly, a memetic nightmare that, if given the chance, will alter the world to something darker and made of crystal engines.
She looks pale at the sight. "What are… what is that?"
"A long time ago, before any of this was even a dream, there was only true dark, darkness so infinite and all-consuming that only a fire that exists at the beginning and end of all things could dispel it. Those creatures you saw burning in my own little hell were born from the disparity of light and dark. This world we live in is just the highest layer of reality universe where the godflame's influence reigns supreme. Time and entropy and every natural law you take for granted are just the influence of this fire."
"And that makes you what exactly?" There is a quiver to her voice, an oscillation in her vocal cords that means fear and apprehension.
"'What is fate to the gods?' A tree as old as the earth asked me that once." He lets the flames form the shape of Dark Shadow on the pier that day, rooted deeply in its master. "I had to travel through the depths of the abyss and I was gone for months. I had to fight for my life in a universe that made no sense. I was betrayed by someone I love. I killed two people I love. For that, I was proclaimed Scorchking, and my coronation was a funeral pyre of an entire species. Do you really want to know?"
She lays her hand over his burning one, heedless of the possible danger. Shouto makes the flames run cool, doing nothing more than dancing across her pale hand. It is an act of trust, one that leaves him breathless.
For the first time, he looks at Fuyumi Todoroki and sees a woman stronger than he imagined, someone who kept their broken mess of a family as intact as it is through sheer force of will. He sees a woman that loves Shouto without question simply because he is family.
There is no ulterior motive, no violence or malice in her gaze.
"Tell me."
The smile that graces his lips is the first one that isn't reliant on knowing his micro expressions. He shows his teeth as he smiles, stretching those muscles for the first time in a long while.
It startles Fuyumi enough that she flicks him on the forehead. "You don't know how to smile. It looks weird."
That only makes him smile wider. "Thank you for being you."
"Now tell me everything."
"I guess it starts with Izuku. Everything seems to start with him. He's my friend and he loves people as easily as the sun gives life. He's also spiteful, vicious, hypocritical and more than willing to punch people."
"Please don't tell me he was the one who punched father."
"Would have fought him there too if I didn't stop him. He's like a rabid animal but he's loyal. When the stadium exploded, he used his powers and took me to that place to save us both. Doing it severed his spine and I had to carry him on my back."
He continues the tale, leaving nothing out where he avoided certain topics with his mother. He tells her of the fights with Izuku, every broken bone and cruel word. She holds his hand as he speaks slowly of the pain when Izuku broke every bone in his arm, or the many times he beat Izuku to a bloody pulp with a smile on his face.
"We managed not to attack each other at school," he says, proud of the accomplishment.
She stares in shock when he speaks of Master Railroad's train and the dragon Fumikage sent.
"Like an actual dragon with wings and claws and feathers? Not the Ryukyu sort?"
"It could be as large as it needed to be. Sometimes it was as small as a house and sometimes it was so large it could fly across galaxies. It breathed these same flames."
When his story comes to an end, she simply stays silent as she absorbs his words. Shouto entertains himself by drawing patterns with the black flames on her skin. It makes for an interesting way to tell stories.
"What will you do now? You haven't chosen an internship."
He shrugs. "I wanted to rest and figure out my powers a bit more."
"Dad sent you an offer." Shouto nods. "I think you should take it. I know you hate him—"
"I don't. I lost that as well."
"As I was saying," she says in the same tone Aizawa uses when they're being more annoying than usual, "he probably can teach you more. And I don't think you should stay alone. People are products of their memories and emotions. You need to make more."
"I'm still angry with him for breaking up our family."
"I know." She considers him for a moment. "Do you want to be a hero?"
"Of course, I…" He blinks slowly, the chilling realisation creeping up on him. "No, I don't really care anymore. Huh, interesting."
"You wanted to be a hero for a long time. Because you saw dad and it reminded you that heroes weren't always the best of people. And you wanted to surpass that. You don't hate him anymore, so that drive to become a hero is gone."
"Then why should I take the internship? If being a hero was about hate then what's the point?"
"Because it was about being better. It was about not being afraid anymore. If being a hero made you want to be better, then maybe you need to remember why you wanted to be a hero."
"By being a hero intern?" The logic there is as circular as time itself.
"By helping people. By saving them. When you were stuck in the dark, what gave you the strength to keep on moving? What made you take another step forward when you could have given up?"
"Izuku," he says easily.
"But before he became your friend. When you were angry and bitter and upset? What made you keep on going?"
"I wanted to help him. He couldn't walk. I was the only person who could protect him."
"You were the only person who could save him. You were the light in the darkness. There's a kid in my class whose terrified of the dark. Sometimes he doesn't sleep because the nightmares are so bad. And I tell him something each time. It doesn't always help but sometimes, just sometimes, it makes all the difference."
"Tell me."
"The dark is generous and it is patient and it always wins. But in the heart of its strength lies its one weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back. Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars. You were that candle for Izuku. I think you'll learn how to be a star if you learn to be a hero. Do it for me if you can't do it for yourself."
"Okay."
He takes her hand and she pulls him out of bed. He's taller than her now, not by much, but enough for it to be noticeable. Yet, he doesn't feel bigger than her in any way that matters.
"Get to it," Fuyumi says.
Their home is silent as he walks through it. Once, years ago, when Shouto was little more than a toddler scurrying underfoot, it used to be filled with the sound of training and Endeavour shouting and hushed whispers amongst his siblings. He remembers Natsuo's lough laughter echoing through the halls, Touya's acerbic and sarcastic commentary following their footsteps, and even his father speaking delicately to Fuyumi.
Now, the silence is disquieting. Not so much because it represents something horrible, but rather because it represents the absence of everything that once was, the ugly and the joyful. In these cold and empty hallways, there is nothing but the frigid silence of their failed family without a hint of warmth and joy.
He knocks once at his father's office, a sharp sound that echoes in the quiet. This is the first time he has had the audacity to disturb the man but this time, he isn't a scared boy.
Shouto Todoroki wears a crown of infernal flame, and for better or worse, the only limits are those he imposes upon himself.
"Enter."
Todoroki opens the door and steps through. His father is standing behind his desk, looking outside the glass wall that makes up the wall. The view is nothing spectacular, just a small pond and water flowers. A tiny ornamental bridge crosses the divide from the rows of lilies along his father's office and the shrubs blocking sight of the solarium.
There is a massive blank in his memories when it comes to the solarium. It can only mean his mother spent time in it any memory of her is gone. Perhaps she was the only reason he ever visited the solarium.
He walks forward and stands beside his father. They don't look at each other. They don't need to.
Endeavour is a wild spark of hellfire, unique and brilliant and alien to the vast and unyielding godflame that infuses Shouto's soul. They don't need to look at each other to converse, but sometimes the appearance of a thing is more important than the things itself.
"The solarium was her favourite room," Endeavour explains, voice gruff. "She spent hours reading stories to you in that room. That solarium was the first time I learnt I loved her. She was headstrong and stubborn and pushed me every step of the way."
Shouto nods, grateful. It is a peace offering, one he is willing to accept gladly.
"I'm accepting an internship with you."
"Why?"
"Fuyumi says I need to remember why I want to be a hero."
"We begin tomorrow then. We'll be going to Hosu to investigate the Hero-killer. Keep your flames hidden. I can't protect you from the ramifications of that. People still remember the Purge of Shikoku."
A distant and tiny part of his flames rises within his soul at the mention of the region. He tastes smoke and death on his tongue and wonders what truly happened that night.
"Understood."
-TDB-
Toshinori Yagi feels old with each passing day. The burdens of the world weigh on him more as his power fades. The constant ache in his side intensifies each time he thinks of the future, of the fight to come against his nemesis. It will be the battle to decide the future itself, to decide which ideal deserves to see a new era.
It will be him who fights that battle, not his successor. No matter the power Izuku has gained, no matter the mental and spiritual stability he has fought valiantly for, the gap in abilities is still too large. Toshinori knows he could win a fight against Izuku as easily as breathing. Experience, speed, and pure raw strength are all in his favour even in his weakened state.
Izuku just isn't ready for that level of combat, and by the time he will be, Toshinori will no longer have the fading embers of One For All in his soul.
One day, he doesn't doubt Izuku will surpass him and every torchbearer who came before. He sees it in the lightning that surrounds the boy each time he uses One For All, an electric potential that is dizzying and beyond comprehension. But it is just that right now, potential.
So, Toshinori must make contingencies. This is one of them.
"Who is Gran Torino?" Izuku asks.
They're in Toshinori's tiny office, Izuku seated on the only other chair. His successor looks well-rested, recovered from the ordeal he went through. Toshinori doesn't, for a single moment, believe it was something as mundane as kidnapping. But he's come to trust Izuku, and he knows his successor will tell him one day.
Trust goes two ways. There are things Toshinori keeps hidden. It is only fair that Izuku has his secrets as well.
"The man who taught me how to truly control my quirk," Toshinori explains. "And the only person I believe can help you the most during this internship. I taught you the foundations to strengthen your body, Jin Mo-Ri taught you form and technique, but Gran Torino can help you find that hidden talent. You've come far, but you still wish to imitate me."
"You're the greatest hero," Izuku says simply, with so much faith that it astounds Toshinori as always. In those green eyes, there is madness and dark knowledge, but there is also more love than any one person should have.
"And one day you'll surpass me." Izuku's sudden grin is blinding and sharp. "But you won't fight like me. You are much more agile than I am. It is your first strength and one day you'll be far faster than I could ever hope to be. But even when I watched your fight against young Todoroki, you resorted to your fists more than you needed to."
"Why is it so important now? Won't any internship help?"
"My boy, there is a villain. He is the greatest Japan has experienced. Do not argue this with me. I know his deeds and the shape of his sins." Toshinori closes his eyes, the pain of Nana's fall still fresh after all these years. "He is old, old as the quirk you have inherited. Perhaps older. We've clashed many times and I've won only once, purely by luck. From the very jaws of defeat, after he had struck me with a fatal wound, he let his guard down."
Toshinori rubs the purple ropey mass on his side. It will perhaps always pain him. His only saving grace as a hero is that he hasn't suffered any other injuries since then. One more injury and he won't be able to maintain the dying embers of his power.
"He gave you that wound."
"Yes. He beat me after I cornered his organisation. We clashed, and I could not win. He boasted that he was the Strongest Man Alive and I believe his confidence was no lie."
"The Throne usually produces some of the strongest quirks in the world."
"And he has killed an Emperor battling with his Guard," he says softly, remembering the fear in Nana's voice the day she told him that tale. "When you have won against the foes he has, then it becomes easy to fall into the trap of arrogance. I was beaten and close to death. Maybe I was dead. When he let his guard down, I pulled every dreg of strength I had into one last punch. I had avoided defeat, but I wasted that opportunity."
"To arrest him?"
"To kill him," he intones gravely, a hundred regrets colouring his voice. "This quirk of mine that you've inherited exists to stop him and put an end to his villainy. To stop him before he amasses the power to truly face the world and win."
Izuku frowns deeply, scratching his thigh. The same one that was crushed by the Nomu. Toshinori has seen the silvery scars there and regrets not coming fast enough that day. If only he had been more decisive, he could have spared his successor an injury and a limp.
"That's a legacy of murder," Izuku says after a few minutes of thought, revolted. "Of revenge. That's vengeance, not justice. If we go down that path, are we any better than him?"
"Those thoughts plagued me at that time."
"You were genuinely afraid," Izuku concludes and Toshinori nods. "What would make you afraid?"
There is something childlike in his unshakeable belief in Toshinori's superiority. For a long minute, Toshinori considers how best to rip those final vestiges of naivete from his successor. It can't survive in this world. There is too much cruelty and indifference.
He's seen death and laughed at it, Toshinori thinks sadly. He can be a child a bit longer.
"I have fears as any normal man. I fear for you and your headstrong ambitions. I fear you nobility and sense of justice will get you hurt. And that is why you should never face him on any battlefield. I know you don't want to hear this, but you cannot win. That is not your fight, and should you ever encounter him, promise me that you'll surrender if you cannot escape. And if he takes you, do not try to lie or hide information from him."
"If he makes you so scared, then I won't argue with you. I promise."
"Thank you."
He sits taller now that one burden is gone. Should All For One and Izuku ever meet, he can trust now that Izuku will not do anything to harm himself. Not after his promise.
"When I struck that blow and brought him down, I hesitated. To take a life is no easy thing and I worried I would lose sight of my morals. I think, more than anything, I feared becoming a villain."
"You wouldn't."
"I've told you long ago, back when you hadn't received One For All, that there were days I want to tear down the system. It allows the corrupt to walk away and injustice to occur. It would be simple for me to take over and become a villain just as bad as any other. It was that fear that made me hesitate."
"I don't believe you would do that. You live life ethically."
"I live with a strong set of ethics that I refuse to compromise. I believe that the more powerful you get, and perhaps older as well, the more important it is to make a set of rules you abide by without fail. Even if that means allowing corruption to go on, my duty is not to route out corruption, it is to protect people by battling villainy and set an example they can have faith in."
"But," Izuku says slowly, "if you know people are corrupt, then aren't you corrupt by association if you leave them alone? It's like how they treat… murder by association or something."
Another thought that plagues him often. How much do his actions truly accomplish when he upholds the system that makes villains in the first place? Toshinori knows that fundamentally, things must change. But it can't be him who does that.
He looks at Izuku and sees an unshakeable determination. It saddens Toshinori because he can the shape of Izuku's greatest fear, a fear so fundamental that his successor hasn't noticed.
It will hurt when you learn it. I only hope you are strong enough to carry forward.
"There is only so much one person can do. My mandate, the mandate of this quirk, has always been to defeat the villain. I refuse to exceed it because once you take a single step on that path, there is no coming back. I do not know who he was before, but in my deepest heart, I worry he was someone like me. Someone powerful. Headstrong. Charismatic. Someone with a strong sense of justice. I can't say the circumstances that made him a villain. Perhaps it was the era he was born to. Perhaps it was evil done unto him that made him lash out against the world. But my greatest fear is that he took the first step I'm terrified of."
Izuku shakes his head. "You wouldn't stay on that path. You know good from wrong. And I know it sounds childish but it's not naivete. I know what quirkless discrimination is like. I know what police brutality is. I don't think for a single second that you could do that."
He tilts his head, considering his successor. There is a tremor running the length of one arm, perhaps an old injury acting up again.
"You're afraid of the possibility. Why?"
"Because if you can, then anyone can. If you of all people can make a choice like that then… You're a hard image to live up to."
His successor looks terrified, absolutely haunted by the idea. Has he truly become such a legend, a concept less than a man, that the one person who knows him better than anyone else alive only sees the myth?
For the first time in a long while, he genuinely regrets being a hero.
"I did not become who I am in a single day," he begins slowly, testing each word carefully. "It is a long journey and every day is difficult. I made many mistakes, some I regret to this very day. But, so long as you hold true to your ideals, then I believe you will always find the right path at the end. But, only should you have ideals you follow, rules that limit the scope of your power. If you do not, then it becomes easy to justify any action as necessary."
He remembers every moment he just wanted to walk into the National Diet and overthrow the government and institute laws to stop villainy. Those moments never last long, and he never gives them any true consideration, but they exist and still shame him.
"Accept Gran Torino's offer," he says finally for there is nothing left to be said today.
Toshinori leaves Izuku to his thoughts. He has perhaps five more hours of strength left in his body. He may as well make use of them. Let the world see All MIgh and know he is strong. Perhaps he will inspire a single person to do better. And if he can, then everything will be worth it.
His phone rings after he has stopped some petty criminals from vandalising a store. He doesn't particularly care about their motives as he gives control of the situation to the police.
All Might answers his phone.
"Toshi, I think we have a problem."
"When don't we, Noamasa?" he asks, chest rumbling deeply in amusement.
"After the stadium attack, we've been on high alert looking for other threats. The Yakuza have been mobilising recently."
"Organised crime syndicates aren't usually my usual thing."
Too much red tape and bureaucracy and corrupt officials for my liking.
"This one might be."
"I didn't think your bosses cared for organised crime?"
Whilst that's a bit annoying, he never wants to navigate the minefield of Tsukauchi's conflicting loyalties to justice and to the state.
Almost a decade to this day, after his battle with All For One, when he was recovering from his injury, Naomasa had been there. He had seen All Might's true form. And as a sign of trust, in turn, Naomasa told Toshinori his true allegiances beyond the police.
They're friends now but there is always that consideration of who he serves through his actions.
Given everything else in the world, Naomasa is harmless, all things considered, and very much a supporter of the changes Yoshinori wishes to see.
"They do when they're being led by people with quirks. Come down to the station and I'll tell you all about Overhaul."
All Might sighs as the call ends. There is always so much to be done and never enough time to do it.
-TDB-
Izuku sets his bags down in the lounge in preparation for his trip tomorrow. He's leaving home for the first time. It may only be for three weeks but he won't always have his mother's protection looming over him.
"You'll do fine," she says, ruffling his hair. "Now do me a favour and get me your medical files. I forgot where you put them."
He blinks at her. "Okay."
He walks over to the spot on the shelf between the space where his books end and his father's begin. The file is an innocuous thing as only the summary is paper, the rest electronic data drives.
"I should have looked there first."
"It's fine. Something wrong?"
She smiles benevolently. "I met your teacher, Jin, at the festival. We talked about a few things."
"Is he doing well?"
"You should ask him yourself. Do you have any more teachers I don't know about?"
He flushes. "Does my internship count?"
"No." Izuku sighs in relief. "Go to sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow."
Sleep is one thing he has come to relish. It is a period to ignore the world without consequence. Not a time to dream for there is little difference in the reality of the abyss and nightmares.
Tonight, however, he dreams of light.
He walks down a hallway filled with colours and lights, every colour of the rainbow and vibrant ultraviolet. He reaches out and touches the lights. They flow between his fingers like sand, physical though they should be immaterial.
Vaguely, he remembers this, remembers walking down this passage. He remembers walking to the end of the stream of lights and seeing eyes observing him.
There are four left. He doesn't know what these beings of light are. Yet they look terrified. Where before there were seven shining beacons, only four fading flames remain. The void where the others existed is massive and consuming, an endless maw that looks all too familiar.
He comes, they whisper. Save us.
No matter what they are, they ask to be saved. To deny that is to deny the story of Izuku Midoriya.
He reaches out.
And wakes up, the dream vanishing quickly.
Izuku blinks slowly, seeing a poster of All Might on his wall. The dream is still there in that hazy sort of memory, mostly mist and magic.
"What the fuck?" he wonders, struggling to recall the dream.
What's wrong, brother mine?
Whatever tenuous grasp he had on he had on the dream slips away. "Fuck. Go away."
You're a prissy bastard in the morning.
With the memory gone, he's left with no choice but to get ready if he doesn't want to miss his train. He showers and dresses quickly. His bags are under the staircase and he grabs them, heading out the door.
He is greeted by the weathered and scarred face of his father. Instantly, his cheer vanishes.
"Father," he growls. "What do you want?"
"Morning, Izuku." His father places his hands in the pockets of his expensive looking suit, a bright yellow thing with thick stripes.
Hi dad, Mikumo says cheerfully.
"Hello, Mikumo." The man gestures and a doorway appears behind him, crackling faintly with green flames just beyond reality. "I'll give you a ride and maybe we can talk a bit more."
"No," he says in the same instant that Mikumo says, Yes.
"Humour an old man." Izuku crosses his arms. "I'll get you All Might's original cape from David Shield."
Izuku walks through the doorway without a second thought. He is not giving up an opportunity like that even if it means talking to his father.
You're so easy, Mikumo says but he sounds amused. Relieved, perhaps.
There are dozens upon thousands of highways they could take, his father's influence upon the abyss. Izuku can see how temporal the structures are, built and supported by the godflame, not his father. He has a suspicion that if he took certain combinations, he may wind up in the distant past or the far future.
He takes the highway to the left that leads upwards and twists into an odd shape that months ago would have left him screaming in agony. Now he can perceive the eight-dimensional shape as easily as he can a simple cube.
He sets forth having absolutely no intention of talking to his father.
How did you get through here safely? Mikumo asks curiously. When you were younger.
Their father hums. "I often had the support of the Royal Guard once my warp quirk materialised. And the World Walker was birthed soon afterwards. I made deals with gods and demons and a thousand lifeforms. Go anywhere you like and you'll see my influence. I made so many waypoints between the layers of the abyss and negotiated relatively safe areas."
Izuku cocks his head. "Tell me, did you negotiate a waypoint involving the sacrifice of a loved one?"
Hisashi nods. "One of my best traps. Most things in here don't conceptualise love so I could trap them in the deeper layers. Though you and your friend fucked that up. You declared love to be the most powerful force in the universe. And then Todoroki infused the godflame itself with love. I don't think you comprehend how you've irrevocably changed the fabric of reality."
You may want to stop talking.
"Why? That's just how it is."
"Because," Izuku growls, One For All already infusing his body, "I had to stab someone I loved in the back because of your fucking trap."
"Oh."
Izuku trembles with his rage. He spots a dozen creatures swimming through a black hole and collapses it on them just to expend a tiny bit of rage he feels.
"He carried me on his back when my spine was severed and I had to betray him." He glares at his father. "I have dragon bone for a spine. And it was your fucking fault."
It wasn't and you know it.
"Shut up."
His father raises his hands, palms out in a placating gesture. Izuku has seen too many creatures to believe the lie of body posture. But he knows deep in his crystal bones that his father will never hurt him.
Maybe even can't hurt him.
"How did you get through the abyss with him carrying you?" the man asks after Izuku has calmed slightly and only a few hundred more creatures are impaled on spears of darkness.
Doing so had been easy, so easy that between one blink and the next, the darkness had offered up a tribute of hundreds of godlings and demons to appease his anger.
"We found Master Railroad's train," he says finally.
"That's convenient," his father says slowly, his scars twitching in a way that looks familiar.
"It was odd because it just happened to be scorched." Understanding blossoms in his mind. "And right next to it was a charred bird."
His father steps back. "Okay, look, I didn't think you would need it."
"It's a priceless cultural artefact. You don't just set it on fire."
"How was I supposed to know you needed it?"
"Do you set everything on fire to solve your problems? What is wrong with you?"
"I have to be pre-emptive about things. Not all of us are gods here."
"I'm not a god," he snaps. "I'm tired of people calling me that."
You are the shadowking of this dark and infernal place. Did you know they call him that, dad?
"The World Walker does so I do. And anyway, I could feel it the moment I saw you. There's so much pure and untainted darkness in your soul that it's like staring at a singularity."
"Why? It makes no sense." Izuku throws his hands up in frustration. "I didn't even inherit your powers."
His father stops walking. "Are you certain? You travel between the abyss and the real world just like me. Your power might have mutated a lot but it's still just a variation of my quirk."
"But you're attuned to the godflame. It doesn't make sense for me to use shadows." He generates a singularity of pure darkness where all mortal laws suddenly fail. "And that's the antithesis of your fire."
"I honestly don't have all the answers. But I breathe green fire. Mikumo breathed clouds of green plasma Your power leaves green lightning—well, technically how One All For expresses itself in you."
At this point, he isn't even surprised his father knows about the quirk, and perhaps knows more about it than All Might does.
"So that's one line of inheritance," his father continues. "I walk between worlds. You fall through shadows between realms. And every iteration of Mikumo I've met who has a quirk expresses some form of minor warp quirk. Is it so hard for you to imagine that the very fabric of the abyss changed you? It certainly changed me."
"You're talking about the World Walker." He shudders thinking of the emotionless machine that spoke in the voice of a thousand worlds, some thriving but most cruel caricatures of life.
"Yeah. It's a personality construct that protects me from the influences of the abyss, born from my nature as a risk manager and given power by this place. That's what it really is, the ultimate risk assessor and guide. A metaphor given life and power."
"Like Mikumo."
"No. Maybe. Did you first start hearing him after you touched the abyss?" Izuku nods. "Then it's possible that in your attempts to forget, you gave him that eldritch knowledge you tried to hide from and the void gave him life. Or something. It's really just conjecture."
"He left when I started taking my anti-psychotics and came back after a wish-granting dragon cursed me."
"There is so much wrong with that sentence. Why would you even accept a curse from… you know what, never mind. I've made worse deals myself. But taking anti-psychotics wouldn't get rid of him. He still exists, they just block your ability to hear him. I tried them as well and the World Walker never left. I just couldn't hear him."
"You're telling me they're useless."
"For that purpose, yeah. I mean, as mood stabilisers they work, but Mikumo is very much real. What were you doing when he started taking the antipsychotics?"
Hunting down the ghosts. I still need to find the last four.
"Good job," his father says proudly. "Even if Mikumo started out only as an imaginary construct, he's taken on your brother's name and become just as real as any other Mikumo I know. You might not be able to touch him, but that doesn't make him any less real than you. Different, but just as real."
They cross the space between universes and enter the real world once more. Izuku shakes off the parasites clinging to his nails and purges the rest with his shadows.
"Have you ever tried bringing people not connected with you through the abyss?"
"A few times. There's a limit of five."
"That makes no sense. It's a giant doorway. What valid reason is there for only five people to get through?"
"Because it's not really a doorway. It's… think of that as a completely unique portal coded only to individuals I choose and existing simultaneously on top of each other. Each one requires energy which I draw on from the godflame. And there's a hard cap to how much energy I can draw. Exactly enough for five entities. Nothing increases it."
"That's bullshit."
"Maybe for a god," his father says lightly. "Catch."
Izuku turns just in time to get a faceful of purple fabric. He stares at the conductor's hat curiously, the same deep purple as the train that carried them to safety. Two feathers that look awfully familiar are attached to it.
"Why did you steal his hat as well?"
His father shrugs. "Because his corpse wasn't there and that pissed me off a bit. I was hoping to talk to his ghost for personal reasons. Anyway, keep it."
"No. Give it to a museum or something. You can't just desecrate everything you see."
Hisashi shrugs. "Alright. Take care. Oh, he's not dead before you worry too much."
"What?" he asks but his father is already gone. "I fucking hate him."
You do? Huh, you actually do. I didn't know you could hate someone. I don't think I like this emotion.
"Shut up and leave me alone."
The apartment building has the right address. With a shrug, Izuku walks up the stairs and knocks. He waits a few seconds. Then a minute.
He enters Gran Torino's apartment. And is greeted to a crime scene.
"Hi," he says with false cheer. "My name's Izuku Midoriya. And I'm going to call an ambulance if you don't say something in the next ten seconds, Gran Torino. I am not putting up with mind games."
The man stands, eyes focused and sharp as a hawk. There isn't a trace of weakness in his old frame.
"Not as stupid as Toshi. Get in. We don't have time to waste with your training. I hate training dual quirks and smart asses, and you sound like both."
"Lovely," Izuku mutters as he enters the apartment.
He barely manages to duck the first kick.
-TDB-
Fumikage Tokoyami walks to a warehouse for the first day of his internship. Whilst not the most auspicious of locations, he had never expected to meet the two people who would one day help him understand the true nature of his power at school.
Accepting the offer from Hawks, the hero ranked fourth, had been a simple decision. He isn't sure why he's been asked to meet at this warehouse instead of the man's agency, but he assumes it to be a test or practical lesson or perhaps both.
He opens the side door to the warehouse and enters. It is dark, oppressively so. His eyes take a while to adjust. There is a chair he struggles to make out in the gloom and perhaps a person sitting on it.
I do not like this, Dark Shadow warns.
"Neither do I."
Still, he walks forward, ready for an attack. The closer he gets, the more he can hear the muffled whimpers of the person sitting in the chair. He pauses, wary, before taking another step.
Bright light floods the surrounding, blinding him. He whirls around, coming face to face with a woman he, unfortunately, knows too well. She wears the same white uniform, but this time is surrounded by allies.
Four people, all in white uniforms, and perhaps all more dangerous that he is.
"Fumikage Tokoyami," she says flatly. "It took you less than three days before you went around and told people about Midoriya and Todoroki's situation."
He realises then and there that this might be the dark room she had threatened him with a bullet to the back of the head. Of the four other people with her, two carry guns on their person.
Stand tall, Dark Shadow commands. You are my prince of crows. Show no fear.
He swallows, readying his powers for might be a losing fight. His main objective will be to summon his dragon as a distraction and then retreat with Dark Shadow through the roof. It will have to be done quickly if he wishes to survive.
"Yes."
"Disappointing but hardly unexpected." She walks towards and then past him to stand behind the man in the chair, features hidden by a hood. "I'll forgive that indiscretion as you had your dragon aid in their retrieval. And because you looked so cute with a cat."
It's hard keeping all five of them in sight, so he settles on focusing on her. She seems to be the leader, and likely the greatest threat as well.
"You saw that?"
"You're an asset. We don't leave assets unobserved. Nor do we leave debts unpaid."
She removes the hood to reveal a middle-aged man he doesn't recognise. The man is unconscious, which makes him wonder what he has gone through to have made such pathetic sounds.
"And you consider that a debt?"
She nods, dark hair following the movement. "Of course."
"You speak of debts, yet I don't know your name."
"To you, I'm the Imperial household." She points to one of the four with her. "So is he. So are the rest of them. I won't give my name to an outsider, Fumikage."
"Don't call me that," he snaps. This lack of malice leaves him unbalanced. She hasn't threatened him once unlike the last time they met.
"Sure." She flicks the man on the head. "This man is responsible for attacking the children you sometimes take care of."
It takes him a moment to figure out what she means. Then he looks back to this unassuming and overweight man who supposedly committed the crimes she accuses him of. She pulls his head back so Fumikage can get a good look at the man. One eye is partially open and Fumikage can glimpse a purple expanse where there should be white sclera.
"What?" he asks because it sounds ridiculous. This unconscious man doesn't look like he could harm more than a hamburger.
She nods, circling around both him and the man.
"Nagato was the man who orchestrated the attack on their village hidden in the leaves. Personally, killed half the parents. We've been hunting him down for fucking ruining our plans. Whatever you want to be done to him, we will."
"What?" he says again because it seems like that sort of day.
"If you want him whipped until he dies, we'll do it. If you want to remove his limbs yourself, we'll clean the mess. We don't care. He doesn't fucking matter to us."
He watches her. There isn't any indication that the woman is lying or manipulating him. Or perhaps she is doing so with honesty.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because we look after our own, my dear asset. You ordered your dragon to retrieve Midoriya. You aided us. We do not forget kindness. Show him the files."
Of the four others with her, one steps forward and hands him a tablet. There's a picture of the man. He scrolls down. Sees a list of crimes. Scrolls further down. Watches a recording of the man committing heinous acts that leave him ill.
"This is…"
"Monstrous," she finishes for him. "The sort of man that a death penalty would be applied to. Whatever you want done, we'll do."
He is not deserving of life. It is your right to take it.
Fumikage blinks. That sounds like something his father would say. What would Midoriya do?
The answer to that is simple. Izuku Midoriya is someone Fumikage can always look towards for a moral answer when things get confusing. He might be spiteful and vindictive, but the quiet sense of justice and the eternal faith in mankind is something worthy of emulating.
"Let the courts of law deal with him."
She shrugs and gestures to the man. The four with her move forward and grab the man, carrying him away. Fumikage watches, disquieted, and unsure of what is to come.
That is your right as well.
"Alright. If you ever change your mind, we can arrange something more gruesome," she says that with a smile that makes him shudder.
She claps and a light illuminates the warehouse more evenly. There are a few crates and boxes, but otherwise, the space is empty.
"So, was that a test of sorts?"
"No." She frowns at him. "We were being sincere. I told you before that we're brutal out of efficiency. If you wanted him to suffer then he would suffer. I don't have time for morals if it'll secure the goodwill of a special asset."
He grits his teeth. He isn't loyal to her at all. But he is smart enough not to pick a fight he doesn't like his odds of winning.
"You keep saying special asset like it's a title," he says instead.
"It is. You're one of two I have access to at the moment. Those kids you watch, they had the potential to be special assets, though not the variety I specialise in." He steps back, staring at her in horror. "Don't be so shocked. At that level of power, you either join a group that cares for you or you're under the thumb of a villain. It was the ninth, the little fox, that we really wanted. He was stronger than the other eight combined."
He thinks of the fox memorial in their facility. "How did he die?"
"Inexperience. The bane of youth."
She walks towards the table, gesturing, and he follows her. There is a box hidden by a dark cloth on the table.
"This is the end," she says, tracing the outline of the box beneath the cloth. "Our debt is repaid."
"Good. I never want to see you again."
"But—"
"No."
"We're in the process of localising a group possibly connected to the abyss. And using ritualistic slaughter to access it."
"This seems too convenient."
She smiles and removes the fabric. The box beneath is wooden in nature, coloured a deep purple and seeming to glow with power. A part of him recognises it as a piece of the abyss.
Most of him, though, is busy trying to keep Dark Shadow from tearing the woman in half. The demon has materialised, larger than the light should allow, and its eyes burn with rage. Only the thick chain of his soul binding them together keeps Dark Shadow from leaping forward.
That's made from the bark of my people, you bitch, Dark Shadow roars, low and menacing.
"It was given freely, acquired through diplomacy. Open it."
It is a risk to take any of his concentration away from Dark Shadow. And yet, the box is so tantalising and represents knowledge. It beckons sweetly. Fumikage reaches for it. The wood feels old, an echo of the eternity the tree has witnessed whispering secrets to his soul.
Dark Shadow makes a sound that might be a name, but the language is unpronounceable to Fumikage. And yet, the grief Dark Shadow feels nearly brings Fumikage to his knees.
She speaks true. This could never be taken by force and retain that memory.
Dark Shadow sounds stunned, no longer straining against Fumikage's will. It gives him the opportunity to unclasp the latches and open the box.
It is a knife and there is blood on the knife.
It is a subtle knife with an edge that cuts time and there is shining blood on the knife.
It is a subtle knife with an edge that cuts time, forged by the godflame and blessed by the rage of a dying star, and slick on its edge is rainbow blood, bright and potent with a promise of immense power.
The longer he looks at either knife or blood, the more it seems to solidify, the concept of blood and knife becoming more powerful and inherent to the universe.
That is the ichor of gods, Dark Shadow says, pulling him back from the brink of an endless spiral.
"It came from one of the cultists," she says, wisely not looking at it. "You may not trust us. We are cruel, brutal and merciless. But who else is willing to battle in the darkness to ensure others can stand in the light? If you join us, you can help protect more than you would as a hero."
Listening to her words is easier than looking at the knife.
"I don't believe you to be just. I don't believe your ideology."
"That's your first mistake. We're not fanatics. We're just people who've seen the truth. If you ever think we go too far, then destroy us."
"Inevitably you will. So why try to recruit me if you know we will come to blows?"
"Because you'll still fight the only war that matters. The tools and banner may change, but the essence of the fight will be the same. Look, you have three weeks for your internship. You can choose to go, and we'll transfer you back to Hawks' agency. But you can also come with us when we launch our raid in two days. Do it and see the true battlefield."
I do not like her. I do not trust her. But I also said that the material world and the void should not mix. Fumikage, she may be mad, but she is also right.
"You're asking me to blindly follow someone who threatened to execute me."
Yes. You have her measure and you know her nature. Violent, brutal and without mercy. What purpose does this serve? She sees you as a weapon to be wielded.
"I wouldn't go that far," she says. "In two days, return here when you've made your choice."
She waves. And then, in a flash of light, she vanishes as though she was never here. All that remains is the wooden box and the impossible knife.
Don't trust her, trust in what you see. You see a piece of the void. What havoc could this knife unleash if a murdered took hold of it?
He shudders, seeing the endless wave of violence and the tide of blood that this blade could bring forth. Something so simple, almost benign by abyssal standards, and yet its potential for bloodshed is unmatched.
"I suppose it's time for my story arc as Izuku would say," he says to his companion. "In two days, my friend."
Two days, my prince of crows. Prepare yourself. You've only just skimmed the surface of the abyss.
A/N:
Yes, this is a new chapter and today isn't a Thursday. If you're wondering why, well, simply put, I needed a win and this was kinda one way to do that. Life has a habit of being a bit of bitch, especially when you make poor decisions.
The next chapter won't be next week. It might be some time next month if nothing goes horribly wrong. If you're curious, writing and editing a single chapter takes me, on the low end, 6 hours per thousand words. So yeah, each chapter is a huge chunk of time invested. Don't worry, whilst the next chapter or two will be released erratically, the next 22ish, constituting somewhere in the realm of 210K will be released on our usual weekly schedule with a short break between season 3B and 4.
In many ways, you can consider this your 6-8 week warning to reread stuff because I ain't putting up a summary. This season will focus heavily on the worldbuilding, specifically the many factions and how they've influenced the world. This will all tie into season 4 which is just an absolute banger that completely changes the landscape of the world. It's what I spent most of this year working on (and let me tell you, banging out a 100K for it whilst at school was painful and super fun).
That's enough rambling from me. Let me know what you think by dropping a review. But, if you can't, know your readership is more than enough for me. Cheers and Godspeed.