'The spirit of the law must not be considered when acting as a hero. The ego of a hero must be discarded when they operate with the authority of their nation. Individuals fighting in the heat of the moment cannot be expected to make rational decisions. Leave it to the courts of law to dispense compassion and dignity and allow heroes to follow the letter of the law strictly and without mercy. So long as they act with the authority of their governing body, any act is permissible for a hero.'
—Excerpt from 'The Law of Heroes' by Hinata Ononoki.
Inko Midoriya sits at her dining table. There are stacks of documents, all ordered meticulously and neatly.
They represent the starting point of their lawsuit against UA, specifically against Recovery Girl. There are dozens of signed documents from medical professionals, research papers into treatment options, and more legal documents than she could hope to understand. Thankfully, they have lawyers for this. Lawyers paid for by Hizashi's seemingly limitless funds.
"I didn't think you would get this done so quickly," Mitsuki Bakugou says, looking at the scans of Bakugou's injured arm. The last time Inko saw him, he had been wearing a thick brace.
"At least something's being done about it," Mrs Kouda says.
"Once we do this, there's no going back," Inko says. "I'm prepared. Are you ready?"
"I'm not ditching you," Mitsuki says. "If there was even a chance they could have done better, then we can't let them get away."
Inko signs her name on the document before her. Despite being written in legal jargon, it is merely an acknowledgement that everything in the coming lawsuit is true to the best of her knowledge.
Mitsuki and Mrs Kouda sign their documents as well.
"Well, I never thought I'd be suing UA less than three months into the year. Katsuki's going to kill me when he gets back from camp."
"At least he'll come back from it," Mrs Koda says.
Mitsuki swallows. "Sorry, I didn't—"
"It's fine. One day I'll get over it." Mrs Koda stands. "Well, this has been interesting. I'm going to spend time with my family before counter lawsuits come."
Mitsuki stands as well. "Well, I think that's a good way to spend the week." She offers Inko a smile. "Marasu's off early tonight. You wanna come?"
Inko shakes her head. "I'll be fine. Both of you enjoy yourselves."
When they are gone, she slumps tiredly against the door. Some days, it gets so hard to keep the façade of an implacable mother up. She can never be weak, not around her peers or enemies or her son.
She shivers suddenly and stands tall, alert. She goes to the second floor and straight to Izuku's room.
It is Hisashi, holding one of her son's many notebooks on quirks.
"You know he has pages on both of us," Hisashi says fondly. "He's barely seen my quirk and he's already dissected its weaknesses. 'Attack from range or stealth, unlikely to survive more than one good blow'. Never knew he was so vicious. I think he gets it from you."
She frowns. "I never taught him that."
"You were strong when he was weak. He stands taller whenever you're around." He sets the notebook down. "Everyone stands tall when you're around. You're just so… larger than life, I guess."
"Where have you been?" she asks instead of dealing with that confusing mess of emotions.
"Busy."
"That's not going to work anymore."
Her husband smiles. "Well, I was helping one of the Guard destroy an abyssal cult and I found some interesting information regarding one of the UA teachers."
"Yes?"
"Snipe, our favourite outlaw, is Nezu's pet assassin. Found him wandering through Malaysia—"
"That's a warzone."
"Yes, it is. Great for a cult looking to operate unnoticed. Anyway, he was looking for some of the students Aizawa expelled. He led us right to them. We snatched them up before he got close."
"And that helps how?"
"They'll be part of the case against UA, specifically against Aizawa. When we present eight students, all expelled in the same year, who had every opportunity for success stolen from them, they won't have any argument. Not when the student behind the Sports Festival was from the same class."
Inko smiles, nudging a spider away. "Good. UA will burn."
"It's what you want, right?"
"For Izuku, yes. And these cultists? Will they be a problem?"
"Maybe. We took down one order but from the information we stole, there are a few more that have been working for centuries. The Guard will start localising them in the coming weeks before they summon something."
"That's good. Are you staying for dinner?"
Hisashi tenses. "Is that an option?" he asks warily, afraid of the rejection and the hurt that comes from it.
For a moment, she feels guilty that she pushed him away immediately and without thought. For a single moment, she regrets not being kinder to him for these last few weeks.
That moment of weakness passes and she lets those feelings wash away, cocooned in the spider silk of her iron will.
"I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't."
He smiles.
"Okay."
-TDB-
It is dawn when Kurogiri warps to the rally point, accompanied by Mustard. The boy struggles to carry the bulky container in his hands, a metallic container almost as large as the boy is tall. On principle, Kurogiri refuses to help him carry it. His master may have given him the order to acquire equipment for the Vanguard, but even he has reservations of the boy's plan.
As it is, even warping the box feels like too much. The boy thanks him once they exit the warp gate and step onto the ridge. The sky is still dark, only the slightest streaks of purple marring the dark.
Kurogiri nods politely to Muscular who crouches near the edge, oppressive in his pure and raw physicality. The man looks ready for a fight with the first person to provoke him.
For all intents and purposes, this is the middle of nowhere. There isn't another settlement for thirty kilometres in any direction, and the small gas station has already been taken over by League operatives. They and the five other teams will be the main distraction once the attack on the camp begins.
It's a simple enough plan, one which will stall the police and whatever petty heroes make the nearest city home. That will give Tomura's Vanguard more than enough time to attack the camp. There's a timeline of events that need to be followed. Once the main assault begins at the camp, Kurogiri will retrieve his other agents and warp them to safety before returning here.
Mustard stumbles with his case, tripping over it. The case lands with a loud thud, so very loud in the emptiness.
The hulking mountain of muscle stands slowly. Muscular walks slowly, silent as a swift death, and approaches Mustard who scrambles to his feet. The man flicks the latches on the case and opens it.
He stares at the contents: high-grade ballistics weaponry, acquired by Giran from an arms shipment stolen from the army. Incredibly illegal and incredibly lethal.
Incredibly foolish, he adds.
"What bullshit is this?" Muscular asks threateningly. "Fucking being a coward."
"One last escape route," the kid says, stepping back in fear. Understandable. Muscular is brutal and terrifying, a mountain of muscle and raw violence.
Kurogiri really shouldn't get involved. It's late and he's tired and this is a new suit which he'd prefer remains clean.
But it's just the three of them right now and Mustard is a child. Children have always been his weakness.
He steps in front of the kid and stands against Muscular. He doesn't cross his arms or anything so foolish. The man is certainly intimidating, but he holds nothing to staring down the Strongest Man Alive.
"I would advise you against attacking your comrades," Kurogiri says politely.
"The servant can speak," Muscular snarls, never stopping in his approach. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you both right now."
Kurogiri doesn't bother answering with words. He just opens a warp gate beneath the man and creates an exit where he was crouched before.
Muscular lands lightly on his feet, rather surprising given his immense bulk, not disorientated in the least. He simply glares at Kurogiri.
Their standoff doesn't ever truly end. Mustard stays behind Kurogiri, foolishly seeing him as a protector. Or perhaps Kurogiri is the fool for not accepting what he is.
A grunt interrupts them and he looks over the edge.
Kurogiri observes Spinner climb the mountain, confused as to why he didn't take the easier path behind them. Then again, he seems to climb as well as any lizard, even if he is dressed like a cheap rental Stain groupie.
Spinner crests the ridge, landing on his feet easily. He looks at the group, confused.
"I thought I was late," the reptile says, observing Muscular warily.
"The others are still making their way here." Kurogiri opens a warp gate to a spot in the bar and retrieves Spinner's absurd weapon. "Here you go."
The reptile grins and takes the handle of the weapon, despite having a perfectly good sword on his back. Kurogiri isn't certain what purpose the mishmash abomination of daggers, knives, machetes and hatchets, all bound together through a series of chains and belts, serves.
Spinner nods, testing the heft of his new weapon. He lifts it easily with one hand and swings it as though it weighs nothing.
Enhanced strength, Kurogiri adds to his mental assessment of the Vanguard member. He wields the weapon with a surprising level of competence,
"Nearly to spec," the reptile says. "One of these knives is too light."
He watches Spinner circle the area slowly, relaxed, as if he's just getting his bearings and testing the weight of the weapon. And somehow, by the time he's done, he's standing near Mustard, opposed to Muscular. It doesn't fool anyone, of course, but it surprises Kurogiri that he is able to figure out the source of tension immediately.
"You don't mind if I use this, do you?" Spinner asks.
The reptile places his sword over Mustard's case before the boy can answer. He removes a roll of cloth from a pouch on his back. Carefully and meticulously, he goes about wrapping his weapon. Kurogiri wonders what kind of tear-resistant material he's using because regular cloth would have been torn to shreds.
All the while, Muscular watches this. His fingers splay out before fisting, each time a finger cracking like a gunshot. It's a base intimidation tactic, one the Kurogiri refuses to be intimidated by. He's seen much worse.
Mustard, who steps back and places himself further behind Kurogri, clearly hasn't.
Spinner glances at him out the corner of his eye, an unasked question in his gaze—is he an ally or an enemy?—and a strong grip on the hilt of his weapon indicating a readiness to act. It raises Kurogiri's appraisal of him just a tad.
Kurogiri shakes his head no.
"I suggest leaving your aggression for the fight ahead," he says before there is a fight.
They stare each other down until Muscular makes a sound of frustration. "Fine. I can wait a few hours." He returns to his vigil over the mountain, crouched and still as a statue.
Mustard lets out a tiny exhale.
"What now?" Spinner asks.
"We wait for everyone to gather."
Slowly, they come. Some come alone like the other child they have with them, a violent serial killer who goes by the name Toga, though that certainly isn't the name she was born with. She comes when the sun is at its highest point and seems to take an immediate liking to Mustard.
"What's this for?" she asks cheerfully.
Mustard pauses in his actions. He's trying to fit a series of wires and biometric sensors to his torso. It worries Kurogiri that the boy is paranoid—and spiteful—enough to setup a dead man's switch.
"One final exit route," Mustard says. "They let us go or we blow up the camp. Never fight on the enemy's terms. The Tenets of Combat taught me that."
Toga just smiles and pats his cheek as one would a fond pet. Though the boy blushes, he likely doesn't understand how little meaning there is in that gesture.
Magne and Moonfish come together, though it seems Moonfish is blindly following her without thought. Compress and Twice enter together, seemingly in a competition for the best landing.
Dabi appears last when night has fallen, trailed by a few Nomu. The Chainsaw Nomu is the largest of the bunch and there is one with wings as well. It is only by watching the ground sink that he realises there is a third and final Nomu. Whilst it bothers him mildly to not have control of the Nomu, of the group, Dabi is the only one he trusts not to be an idiot.
Besides, it is Tomura's wish that Dabi leads the operation. For some unfathomable reason, his ward has taken a liking to the pyro.
Whilst Kurogiri may have another operation prepared to occur simultaneously, it is purely in support of this one.
"Seems we're all here," Dabi says. "Well, you all know the boss man's objectives: cause havoc, kill teachers, and acquire the targets. Anyone need a reminder of the student's we want?"
No one says yes. Good, because Kurogiri would have gotten rid of them for being so lazy. Admittedly, he's almost certain Moonfish has no idea what they're talking about.
"Anything we need to know, Kurogiri?"
"The situation's changed," he says, stepping forward past Magne. "Our agent's information was faulty and they've only now just updated it. There's additional security we were unaware of. A kill-squad from a PMC operating as security. In addition, they've brought three of their senior students, all capable heroes. Do not underestimate them."
"Good," Muscular says. "More people to kill."
"We can work with that," Dabi says. "Toga, funnel them to my sector and I'll burn them down. Compress, deal with any stragglers we miss and get it done quickly. Remember, Mandalay and Ragdoll are priority targets. Boss wants their quirks and you're the best at retrieval."
Compress steps forward and bows. "Let me know where you are, and I'll retrieve any target you have."
"Remember the two rules we have," Kurogiri says. "You don't kill kids. Kill as many of the teachers as you want but not the children."
"What happens if I kill any of the students?" Toga asks with a cheery smile.
Kurogiri considers that. She is the same age as the students.
"Go ahead," Dabi says before Kurogiri can say no. "Make a statement. Everyone else, you'll just have to entertain yourself on the security and the teachers."
He wants to argue against that idea.
"This is going to be the best camp ever," Toga says, grabbing Mustard by the hand. "Let's kill a lot of them, okay."
"Okay?"
"What's the other rule?"
"You see a boy with green hair and burn scars, you leave him alone. Beat him to a pulp, but he's not an acceptable target. Understood?"
Dabi claps his hands together. "Well then, we'll move in an hour. Toga, have some fun."
She grins and, in that grin, Kurogiri sees death and blood.
-TDB-
Fumikage Tokoyami sits in a field. The crescent moon shines down on him, illuminating the field in a murky greyness. The rain is chilling but he feels none of it.
All he feels is conflict.
There is a choice he must make. Will he stay silent and allow a man who committed genocide to walk free? Or will he choose to deal with the truth and face death?
This isn't a choice, he thinks bitterly.
One life or twenty million. That's what it really comes down to. Which does he value more? Millions of nameless, faceless people that died long ago or his own life.
It reminds him of a similar choice he made an eternity ago. There was a time where he was faced with the choice of telling the truth of Izuku's quirk or letting his friend perpetuate a lie. He had chosen the latter, justifying it as not being the one to say the lie.
It is a weak justification, now that he looks back on it. I didn't commit the murder, I simply watched it happen and keep it secret.
He wipes away water from his eyes futilely. His feathers are soaked and they'll keep on dripping water for a few more hours after he gets out of the rain. If he gets out of the rain.
"Have you made a choice?" Maya asks him gently, her voice raw and flat, as though she isn't ready to kill him.
"How many people know he lives?"
"Not many. The Emperor. The heads of the other royal lines. The Guard and a few Special Assets. Maybe five or so from intelligence. And the few servants who have access to his rooms."
And now me.
"Would you kill me?"
"Only if you told the truth," she says, honest as always. "We'd monitor you for the rest of your life. If you ever slipped up, we would activate a kill order. Admittedly, I don't know how well death would stick for you, so I'd rather not go that route. As I've said before, you're free to leave whenever you want."
"And go where?" he asks tiredly. "I have no family—"
"You've ignored their calls."
"I have no friends—"
"Did you ever call them?"
"I've been expelled—"
"You still have a scholarship offer from Shiketsu."
"Damn you woman," he snaps, punching the ground.
"Do you want to know why you're angry? It's in your psyche report that you never read."
He scowls. "Tell me."
"Because you trust us. That's what makes you angry. You trust us because you know we're brutal and honest and efficient. You trust that we won't ever betray you and now that you've seen the extent with which we protect our own, you know we'll do the same for you. We'd hide your crimes. We'd hide your failings. We'd protect you from the world and fight to the death for you, and you know it. That's why you always walk closer to us."
"Stop it."
"No," she says, walking closer. "You asked to know and now you must. You're terrible with human interaction so you crave affection from anyone who accepts you. You cosplay as a knight because you have a streak of honour a mile long and you want to protect people. You know we protect people from the threats they don't see and it fulfils your idea of a dark knight. You long for freedom and it's why you argue with your parents and defy authority."
"You manipulated me," he says weakly for it is no argument.
She shrugs.
"And I told you I was, many times. I always offered you a way out and I still am. But you keep choosing to come back because a part of you knows that your trust will always be returned."
He laughs bitterly, a furious and broken sound so much like a sob.
"So, I chose this? I was always going to choose this?" He punches the ground once more. "Are you telling me there's no agency? I refuse that idea. I make my own choices."
I am a god. There is no fate for me.
And just like that, the world shifts. Like bubbles of darkness, his soul manifests upon the earth. His hounds rise up from inky pools of darkness, their quicksilver fur standing on end and their gaping maws dripping acid. The acid chews through the ground as they growl, a deep and terrible sound.
In the skies above, his murder of crows circles languidly. They sing and their song is a song of his rage. It is crystals shattering and worlds ending, the sounds of suffering and chains rattling.
Most importantly, his dragon stands protectively behind Fumikage, black scales eating the moonlight. Its eyes are a deep and virulent yellow promising death and destruction, its outstretched wings capable of carrying the world. Through the gaps of its exposed teeth, purple godflame escapes, a final reminder that it will set fire to his enemies so long as he commands it.
This is the power to kill armies and take cities. It is the power to stand above every human and abyssal lifeform and rule as a king. And yet, he hasn't truly ascended. Not yet.
Maya observes this show of force indifferently.
"We're all bound by our past experiences," she says gently. "We're creatures of habit and predictable biology. Free will exists, at least I believe that. But your choices can be guessed. You're not going to attack me because I haven't betrayed you. You're not going to leave because of the oath between us."
He stares at her and his dragon rumbles menacingly. The crows shriek and the hounds bay. They are ready to attack and protect their master.
"Damn you."
And then they vanish, fading to shadow, and returning to his soul.
She exhales. "Oh, thank god."
"What?"
"I've known you a month. I could have been horribly wrong." She smiles. "I made a gamble, nothing more."
He lets her approach and doesn't pull away when she holds his shoulders. There's something so relieved in her gaze that he almost forgives her. Almost.
"You owe me."
"We don't have to keep score between us. What do you want and I'll give it to you?"
"The World Walker. There is a debt he owes."
"Are you certain?" she asks once more.
"I am. But first, I must settle things with Dark Shadow. Once I have control, call the World Walker."
"I trust you." In a burst of light, she vanishes.
Fumikage inhales and calls Dark Shadow forth.
The demon rises slowly, hesitant of his intentions despite the blade it now wields. It towers over Fumikage when it manifests, rage and malice infusing the air. Its bulk is such that it blots out the moon and shrouds him in darkness. Like this, a single swipe of its claws could tear through a row of trees and not even notice.
Not that it needs to with the blade in its hand. The same blade pointed at Fumikage. The smoke from the blade corrodes the air, turning it stale, and blackens the grass. He feels Watatsumi growl within his soul, the hounds howl with rage and the crows screech. All of them ready to defend their master.
Fumikage doesn't share the same fear.
Why have you summoned me?
"Trust," he says, unafraid. "You said one day I would wear your form as armour. Your claws would be my blades. I forced you to do that and took away your will. Now, at your strongest, I ask you to trust me once more."
Trust lost is not easily regained.
"Then break the chain between us. Do so and be free of me." He stands now, so much smaller than the demon, and yet he doesn't feel like he is looking up to it. "But, should you choose it, let us break past our fears. I trust you, my friend."
He extends his hand. Lays it over the blade. Pushes the sword down.
"Do you trust me?"
It does not answer in words. The sword is thrust into the ground. Dark Shadow becomes smaller, its form seeming to fold in on itself and become denser. It slides across Fumikage's arm, the chilly darkness the caress of an old friend.
He shudders when roots dig deep in his back and spine. And then it feels like there are two people sharing space in his mind. He feels Dark Shadow far closer than ever before, its thoughts his thoughts. And it nearly brings him to his knees.
There is rage and anger and malice and spite. But there is joy and forgiveness and old knowledge that runs deep as the very earth.
He has seen monsters and darkness and nightmares leaving calamity in their wake. But this makes him understand how insignificant he truly is. The knowledge Dark Shadow holds is older than the sun and infinitely more beautiful. It is life and death and rebirth, a thousand thousand memories of teaching and communing with beings of reverse time and witnessing the godflame's imprisonment.
And through all those memories, there is one word that towers over all others: friend.
It applies only to Fumikage.
He swallows, barely managing to keep his tears back. The thrum of amusement from Dark Shadow tells him it knows, and that it accepts his weakness anyway.
You are my first friend, Dark Shadow says, lacking that otherworldly quality that always permeates its voice.
Fumikage rises from his hunched position and feels the strength Dark Shadow grants him. He flexes his fingers and watches Dark Shadow's talons follow the motion without question. He grasps the sword plunged in the earth and lifts it.
And nearly slices his foot off. Until Dark Shadow takes control of his limb, an inversion of their usual relationship. His hand rises without his input. Dark Shadow moves one leg back, flowing into a simple stance.
Hold it like this, the demon says, shifting his body until the blade is parallel to his shoulders, one foot pointed forward whilst his weight rest on his back foot.
A rip in the fabric of spacetime heralds Hisashi Midoriya. The man has a loose smile on his face and it looks so much like his son's that Fumikage feels guilt.
Your paths diverged a long time ago.
"Is that your ultimate move?" the man asks, hands folded over his chest. "Heroes always have one or two. What are you calling it?"
"I have not given it any thought," he says and nearly drops the sword in shock. His voice is deep and reverberating, an inhuman sound overlaying his normal tones.
"Black Ankh," Hisashi says, amused. "Trust me, it works."
"Black Ankh," he says slowly, testing it. And finding it lacking.
He does not need to call Watatsumi for it to rise to the surface. Its long membranous wings sprout from his back and purple flames surround Dark Shadow's claws. The flames spread down the length of the blade, illuminating the blackened grass in a sickly purple light.
"Black Ankh Ascendant," he says finally.
The man shrugs. "So, you want to go back to the abyss. How deep?"
"As deep as you can take me."
"Alright." A doorway forms to the darkness. "If you pick a fight, I'm not helping you."
Fumikage huffs and walks to the darkness. Once more, he will enter the abyss willingly and knowing what is to come.
I will stand with you, Dark Shadow promises as he steps in the middle of an endless row of acolytes and wizards chanting the litany to their failed caricature of a god.
He raises the flaming sword. Lets the entire horde within his soul escape. Wages battle against these creatures.
-TDB-
Neito Monoma is many things: narcissistic, eccentric and egotistical. He has a crippling inferiority complex he attempts to hide with sarcasm and odd behaviours. He is all these things and so much more.
He loves his classmates fiercely but under no circumstances will he ever show that to 1-A. They must stick together more than anyone else. They've been relegated to the backseat, unimportant and forgotten. Between the entire class, there were no more than five hundred recommendations, most of which went to Ibara—and thinking about her makes his throat tight with sadness.
"Stop being lazy," Setsuna Tokage says.
He looks up at her and smirks. "Don't call me lazy." He picks up a stack of logs, hoisting them easily over his shoulder.
"Well, you are."
"Do we have to take part in this scare contest?" Neito asks.
"Aw, you worried you can't scare the great and mighty 1-A?" Setsuna asks in turn, attempting to provoke him. "I thought our magnificent Neito feared no one."
He laughs, a fake sound that grates on the ears. He's had a long time to practice it and Setsuna still winces when she hears it.
"Fine, I'm sorry," she says and he stops laughing. "I'll stop poking there."
He sets the logs down beside the fire. Thankfully, no one trusts him to cook. Which is for the best. Last time he tried to cook for anyone, they had been put in the hospital for a week. Whilst Neito may have been fine, he has no interest in going to prison for attempted murder.
"I think I should bake 1-A some muffins," he says to his classmates, all gathered around the table and eating.
They pause, some looking terrified and Kinoko turns a rather interesting shade of green.
"No," Itsuka says from the other end of the table. "Don't poison anyone."
"Fuck your cooking," Yosetsu says, shuddering. "Last time you made food you got me and…"
Tetsuetsu. That was the last time he made anyone food.
Neito pushes his tray forward and stands. He is not, in any way, ready for the sudden wave of grief. Three weeks later and the pain isn't gone in the slightest. It shouldn't hurt as much as it does. Neito wasn't that close to him.
That doesn't change how much it hurts.
"Fuck," he hears Yosetsu say.
Neito doesn't look back. He needs to get away right now before anyone sees him showing weakness, more so than he's already shown by walking away.
"Neito," Itsuka calls, following behind. "Just stop already."
He doesn't.
Once he's clear of hearing range, a massive hand grabs him and stops him in his tracks. Neito sighs and he can lie to himself that the reason his breathing hitches is because Itsuka is squeezing his lungs.
"We need you and you're just running away."
Neito scoffs. "I'm not class rep. No one needs me."
"Do you think you're the only one upset?" she asks, and that hurts more than anything. "You don't have a monopoly on grief. What do you think will happen if you let anyone see you're upset? We're a class but you act like you're the only one who's upset."
"Because I'm not ready," he says softly. "So, stop asking me to get over it."
She squeezes tighter. "I'm not and you know it."
"All of you are acting like they were never there."
"Because of you," she snaps. "Because no one wants to make you sad. Every time someone mentions Tetsuetsu or Ibara, you run. And you know what, despite all your egomaniacal nonsense, you're still our friend."
He glares at her. "Put me down."
"Will you run away?"
"No."
After a moment, she sets him down. They don't say anything immediately. She's taking his measure, trying to gauge how off-balance he is. Neito is just exhausted, tired of everything they've gone through.
"I'm tired of losing people," he admits. "I'm afraid I'm going to lose you and Setsuna and Fukidashi."
"Then why are you running?"
"Because I'm me and I can never be weak or emotional." He smiles ruefully. "Neito the eccentric. Monomo, that weirdo who hates 1-A and only has vapid thoughts."
"No one thinks that."
His smile is cynical. "I don't really believe you."
"You're too stubborn for your own good. Let's go for a walk."
He sighs. "Fine."
Their walk is silent and though he's tempted to breach it, there's too much to unpack and he's not ready to go poking at the bundle of grief and anger and weariness.
On the way, Kendo taps his shoulder and points to their left. Sitting on a tree root is someone he hasn't seen in a few weeks.
"Midoriya."
MIdoriya looks up from his spot. Cradled in his hand is a metal container, the sort you use to keep food warm. "Oh, hey Kendo. Monoma. How are you?"
"Oh, just great," Monoma says snidely. "You enjoying the spotlight as usual?"
Of all the students in 1-A, Midoriya is the one he dislikes the least. And if he's being honest, he does respect Midoriya for his honesty. That doesn't mean he will get a free pass.
"Don't be rude," Kendo says. "Training must have been brutal."
MIdoriya touches his cheek gingerly, bruised and scratched. "I guess."
"Getting hurt at camp. Even we haven't done that yet," Monoma says. "1-A students truly are the greatest."
Kendo shoves him aside, annoyed. "I think it was really brave of you. What you did. Talking about… well, everything."
"It wasn't anything special."
"You see, for the great Izuku Midoriya, such feats mean nothing."
Kendo smacks him. "Stop being an ass. But yeah, I've got family in Hokkaido. I think I'll go visit over the break."
Midoriya smiles. "That's good to hear. I want to go back instead of taking an internship. Or get an internship there. Just help out however I can."
"Well, maybe we might just be working at the same agency."
"And the Great Midoriya steals another maiden's heart," Monoma says sarcastically. "One word and all the women swoon over him. It must be the scars."
Midoriya laughs suddenly, genuinely happy. He touches the scars, tracing them.
"Never saw it like that. Well, see you."
He walks past them, not heading back to camp. Neito stares at the retreating figure alongside Itsuka. When he's out of earshot, he urges her forward and they keep walking.
"Really? You think he's brave?" Neito asks snidely. "And you want to intern at the same agency?"
"Are you jealous?"
He flushes. "What, no? I just think you don't have to spend all your time with him."
"Sure, sure. I believe you."
"Do you smell smoke?"
Itsuka sniffs the air. "That's weird. You think 1-A's pyro set something on fire. Heard he's having a spat with his boyfriend."
"Why do you think I care?"
She shrugs. "I don't…"
"What?"
She simply points east.
The flames engulfing the horizon are a vibrant blue.
"That can't be Todoroki," he says numbly. "Do you think—"
"Villains? Yeah."
He grins viciously. "Well then, why don't we go give them a proper UA welcome?"
She smacks him. "Don't be stupid. This isn't time for revenge. We make sure everyone's safe first. We're all getting out of here together."
"Sure."
Neito nods absently. All he can focus on is finally getting his revenge.
For Testuetsu.
For Ibara.
For everyone else.
Today, these villains die.
She grabs him by the collar and brings him close, eyes fierce. "Don't. Whatever you're thinking, you can't do it."
"You don't even know—"
"I'd stop you," she promises. "Whatever you're thinking off, I'd stop you. Don't be reckless. We're gonna be old and grey and making fun of 1-A, alright?"
He can't help his smile. "Alright. You and me till the end."
-TDB-
Izuku carries a container as he walks up the hill overlooking the forest. It looms protectively, a benevolent summit watching over everyone he knows. It's the sort of place he would run to if he wanted to distract himself. And considering this place is easily accessible for a little boy to reach, it is the only logical place to go to.
Right, and the shoe prints didn't help you in the slightest.
"Shut it."
His face hurts and there are bruises all over his body from his fight with Shouto. He must look horrid if Kendo commented on it, especially given that half his face is already scarred. Well, he supposes that people can get used to anything in a world with mutations.
He turns the corner and finds Kouta huddled near the edge. The boy is smart enough not to sit so close to the edge that he will pitch forward if startled.
"Hey," Izuku calls.
The boy turns his head, eyes hidden by his cap. "What do you want?"
"I brought you some food."
"I don't want anything from you."
Izuku shrugs and sits down beside him. He opens the container, findings a simple meal of rice and fish. He takes the chopsticks and eats some rice.
"Why are you doing that?"
"You said you don't want it. I'm not going to waste food."
Not that he's hungry. He could very well go the next few weeks without food and not be bothered by it. If anything, he eats for the taste of the meal, not for its nutritional value. There's nothing truly alive about most meals. Nothing that compares to killing a god and eating its heart.
"You can't just eat my food."
"Look, Kouta, you're angry and bitter and if I'm being honest, I get that society pisses you off." He grabs the kid by the collar and pulls him close, startling him. "But when I bring you a meal, I expect you to eat it. Or I will force it down your throat, one spoon at a time."
Kouta's eyes are wide. "Let go of me." He smashes a fist against Izuku's face.
It doesn't so much as make Izuku budge an inch.
"I've had a pretty bad few days, all things considered," he says slowly, calmly, and utterly implacable. "Dealing with a kid who mindlessly spouts the philosophy of a man I personally respect—a man I know—to make a stupid point, is not one of them. Bringing food for said kid is also not on the list. So, you're going to eat instead of being a whiny brat. Because I just had a rather violent fight with my friend. I'm about to be expelled, so I do not care about politeness right now."
The boy squirms in Izuku's grip, hitting back and screaming obscenities. Slowly, as Izuku talks without raising his voice above a cold whisper, Kouta finally stops moving. Maybe it's cruel to use his physical strength like this, but he's making a point: sometimes, you need to listen to other people even if it hurts.
Finally, he lets go.
Kouta tumbles back, landing on his ass. He mutters a curse but the words die on his lips as he sees Izuku's indifferent gaze.
"Eat."
Izuku hands the container to the boy, who takes it apprehensively. Oh, there's certainly a bit of hate in his eyes, but hate is a verb, a doing action. This is nothing more than a child's interpretation of the action, an attempt to mimic it.
He waits patiently, sniffing the air and smelling smoke. Probably Shouto working off his annoyance.
"You can't tell me what to do," Kouta mumbles but eats a tiny bit of his food.
"If you can spout philosophy without any context behind it, I can tell you to eat your food." Izuku hands the spoon over. "And guess what, you can go tell Mandalay or Tiger or the rest. Except it invalidates whatever point you were trying to make with isolation. The only person it'll embarrass is you."
He watches the forest, keeping Kouta in the corner of his vision. The boy eats slowly, forcing the food down more than anything. Perhaps that has something to do with how Kouta's sitting on Izuku's scarred side. Every time Kouta looks ready to say something, he takes on look at his scars, tenses, and settles down.
Good, it means Izuku can enjoy the sight of the forest burning in blue flames.
He blinks and reviews that sentence in his head. He examines each word and then decides he needs a second opinion.
"Hey, Kouta, can you see a fire in the distance?"
The kid looks up, then freezes. "What the fuck?"
Izuku sighs.
Without the moon shining bright in the night, there isn't much contrast between light and shadow. Not enough to make any shadows. But there are just enough for him to sense the approaching shadow. The person it belongs to must be massive but more than that, it feels like blood and war and death.
Izuku rises to his feet and before Kouta can react, he pulls the boy back. The container and cutlery go flying over the edge as he places his body between Kouta and whoever it is.
"What—"
"Shush," he says harshly, heart beating faster and faster in his chest. "You can stop hiding."
Slowly, with measured and graceful steps, the villain turns the corner. The villain wears a tattered black cloak and a mask, simple and plain and menacing. Standing as tall, perhaps even taller than Endeavour, the villain is intimidating enough as it is.
A part of him wants to fight the villain, wants to prove himself stronger in every possible way. He wants to conquer this challenge just as he conquered every other challenge beforehand. But, there is a scared boy trembling behind him, and Izuku refuses to let that boy be terrified for even a single day longer.
"So, how do you feel about letting the kid go?" Izuku asks.
Might as well. For all he knows, he's dealing with a villain with morals and honour.
Izuku takes a step back.
The villain reacts like lightning. Faster than Izuku can fully process, the villain crosses the distance between them. He has a moment to react and plan.
He moves forward as well, shoving Kouta back. He ducks low and twists, kicking the side of the villain's fist and diverting the force.
The fist shatters the stone and the villain's momentum leaves half his forearm encased in rock. Izuku dashes back to Kouta. Whatever else, he needs to get him away from the battle.
Except, the villain is already free of the stone. With a sweeping motion. The villain discards the cloak.
The man beneath is blonde and physically perfect but for a cybernetic eye, the only blemish to this monument of war and violence.
"Why?" he hears Kouta whisper.
Izuku doesn't respond.
Those are muscle fibres surrounding the villain's left arm, the same arm he punched a hole through the stone so casually. Izuku can do the same with enough preparation and that's what worries him. Is the transformation localised to one arm? Unlikely because when is Izuku's life ever that easy.
"Oh," the villain says in a surprisingly normal voice, "you were on the list."
That sends a jolt of fear running through Izuku. What list? No, that's not the right question. There are only two reasonable possibilities, extraction or execution. One means he'll live regardless and the other means Kouta will die if he makes a single mistake.
"I wonder how you pissed off the boss so much," the man approaching with the inevitability of death says. "He said not to kill you, but I think I'll have some fun first."
Izuku almost rolls his eyes because when is his life easy.
"Kouta," he says instead, "I'm going to save you, right here and right now because sometimes there's no choice but to fight."
The villain pauses for an instant.
Izuku doesn't attack because that's not an opening. But it does give Izuku a few moments to charge his power. One For All leaves his body glowing brightly, sparks of green lightning arcing from one finger to the next in anticipation.
"And here I thought you were going to say some stupid bullshit." The man laughs and the sound chills him to the bone. "You're right. You fight and win or you die."
Despite his apprehension, Izuku grins. It isn't one of fear or an instinctive response. No, this man is an overwhelming threat.
And Izuku wants to conquer that.
The villain raises his right hand and Izuku can see the muscles fibres growing there like a writhing mass of tentacles. He's like a dark mirror of All Might, a pillar of strength and cruelty.
"Midoriya right?" Izuku nods warily, and it might be stupid to give a villain but it's a few more seconds to plan. "Do me a favour and don't die too quickly."
The man charges and Izuku barely manages to track it even with One For All enhancing his senses. The villain's already on his left before Izuku starts twisting. There's too much force there to even bother blocking and he's too slow to plan a counter.
His kick is instinctive, not meant to stop the punch but deflect it. It feels like trying to deflect a train with a twig. Izuku goes flying back and slams into and through a layer of the rock wall. It takes him a moment to remember how to breathe.
"Tell me where Endeavour's kid is, and I'll kill you quickly," the villain says and Izuku wants to scream because Shouto's a friend who's been with him to hell and back.
Maybe Shouto is a little shit that needs to be punched repeatedly, but the only person allowed to hurt him is Izuku.
The rage is what makes him take up a stance. Izuku understands exactly why they're after Shouto. It isn't his quirk—if they knew that they wouldn't so much as fuck with him—but his relationship to Endeavour. This isn't some cheap attack of opportunity. The villain, and whoever else is with him, wants to strike out against hero society through UA.
"I like that expression. You want to kill me right now. Can I take that as a no?"
"Fuck you," he spits.
Izuku dodges to the right on instinct and barely raises his arm to block the follow-up punch. In a split second, he concentrates One For All to his right arm.
The impact from the villain's punch annihilates his guard. His bones strain and creak, but the crystal lattice within keeps the bone intact.
Izuku goes flying back.
The villain follows whilst Izuku is still in the air, catching up before Izuku can land.
Shit, Izuku thinks and twists around the blow, countering with a fist of his own on the villain's hand. It diverts the blow enough that the villain's fist is in the ground whilst Izuku uses the displaced force as a platform to jump upward.
He raises his leg and brings it down with all the force he can manage in an axe kick to the villain's head. The ground beneath them shatters and dust rises, obscuring his sight. He's not stupid and knows that isn't enough. He tries to leap back but stumbles when his leg doesn't come with him.
"You're pretty fucking fast," the villain says as the dust settles. He sees the villain's other arm raised to protect his head and Izuku's foot is in his grasp. "But you're not strong enough."
With one mighty swing, he slams Izuku to the ground, driving his straight through it.
He feels something, maybe everything, break. He lifts Izuku again. Ah shit, Izuku think, before he's slammed into the ground once more.
Then again.
And again.
You know we're fucked, right? Mikumo asks, his voice the only reason Izuku stays conscious. Not enough light to make shadows. Just the living lightning to protect you.
This isn't anything like Stain. And not only because he had backup then. No, Izuku hasn't been so thoroughly outmatched. He's never fought anyone stronger, faster and more skilled than him with the intent to kill. The match against All Might doesn't come close. His mentor hadn't been out for blood.
His vision is blurry as he stares at the villain. The man is half turned to the side and saying something, but that cybernetic eye tracks Izuku.
Izuku blinks. Oh, has a weakness. It takes him a moment to realise that the villain is talking to someone. Who?
Don't be stupid, brother. He's talking to Kouta and you know it. No one's coming to save you or the boy. You need to get up and win.
The villain turns and walks towards Kouta.
Get up, Mikumo orders, urging him to stand.
He's left with no choice when the villain raises his fist against the boy.
One For All fills his body once more and he dashes forward. He knows the element of surprise isn't on his side. At least, he works under the assumption that someone with as much clear battle experience as this villain would anticipate his actions.
So, when the villain turns Izuku is ready. He feints left as though he's going to attack with his uninjured arm.
He enjoys the moment of gratification when the villain's eyes widen. Overextended, and with Izuku's open palm heading his way, the villain doesn't have an opportunity to dodge.
His cybernetic eye doesn't feel like punching a brick wall like the rest of the villain's body. It crumples beneath the strength of his strike and the villain goes flying, stones breaking and dust kicking up.
He hears Kouta scream. He glances his direction and sees the kid flying over the edge.
The shockwave.
Izuku leaps back and grabs the kid before he can fall off the ledge. "Sorry," he says to the boy once he safe from falling.
"Thank—your arm," Kouta says, forcing Izuku to look at it.
Mangled and bruised heavily, he won't be shocked if there are many cracks. But it doesn't feel as damaged as it could have been. Very likely, the internal mutations within him keep his arm intact.
"Why?"
"Because you deserve to live," Izuku says a moment before he hears stone breaking. "No," he whispers, turning.
The villain stands, red fibres writhing over his body. There's blood covering his face and a horrible wound where he cybernetic eye used to be. The bloody mess is going give Kouta nightmares if he survives the night.
"You fucking piece of shit," the villain snarls., blooding dripping down his face "I wasn't gonna kill you but now I'm going to take my time ripping you apart."
"Kouta, get on!" he screams and thanks every god that the kid doesn't hesitate because the villain is already moving.
Instinct is the only thing that lets Izuku dodge a strike that tears apart the cliffside. He ignores the sound of tonnes of stone crashing down, ignores the complete certainty that his mastery of One For All won't help if the villain gets a single blow in.
The villain stands from his crouched position, wobbling slightly. With one eye missing, his depth perception may very well be useless.
Izuku leaps back, trying to put distance between him and the villain.
And then the villain is in the air with them. Izuku twists and kicks, sending a wave of force to dodge the blow.
The villain's fist slams into the wall, arm deep. To his absolute horror, the cliffside develops a series of cracks. The villain tugs, unable to get his arm out.
Kouta loses his grip and gives a pained cry as the boy tumbles behind Izuku. It is cruel but that pain means he won't get instantly killed the moment the villain pulls his fist out of stonewall and attacks again.
"Kouta, I need you to run, right now," Izuku says.
"What? No, he'll—"
"Kouta!" he shouts. "No matter what, I'm going to stop him. But I need you to run if I want to fight."
This is just like fighting Stain in a way. Iida interfering in a fight and Izuku being forced to deal with his survival.
The boy's crying now, Izuku can tell even with his back turned to him. "Let's run. We can get away."
Izuku shakes his head. "Too late," he whispers as the villain pulls free of the stone's grasp. "Kouta, promise me something."
"What?" the boy whispers, stepping back.
"Promise me you won't blame yourself for what comes next."
He doesn't listen to Kouta's response. Time's up and all that matters is whether or not Kouta will see the monster Izuku's hiding just beneath the surface. He doesn't want to lose control and possibly leave Kouta traumatised for life.
The villain's muscles fibres are thicker, covering more of him than before but they still barely cover his face. No, instead his neck and back muscles are providing protection there, concentrated around his working eye.
Good. It means there's still a chance.
The abomination of muscles and hate charges for Izuku, every step shaking the ground. Izuku raises his left arm to block against what might as well be a tank. His arm dislocates instantly but he pushes back, every iota of strength in his body fighting against the inexorable tide that is this villain.
And he's losing.
This villain is a physical powerhouse that completely eclipses Izuku. He's closer to All Might's level than he is to Izuku.
It doesn't matter, though.
Winning this portion of the battle isn't the point. He never, for a single second, thought he could match this creature in pure strength.
But he has two advantages: one, the villain can't see half his field of vision; and two, he still has three free limbs.
The moment the ground beneath him cracks Izuku steps to the side slightly. It feels like madness to let only one arm take the entire force for more than a second.
A second is all he needs.
Izuku makes a straight kick to the villain's knees with One For All coursing through his body. He hears the crunch and sees the explosion as the knee fails to handle the force. The burst of force expels tendons and viscera all wrapped up in a sudden expulsion of blood.
It is a sudden shock of cartilage and tendons, ruptured flesh and shattered bone, that shatters the villain's defences. The villain, unstable, tilts to the side, howling in pain.
The villain's eye had given away his weakness.
There are barely any muscles fibres there naturally so it stands to reason any other area like that would operate similarly. It is a gamble that he wouldn't reinforce his knees the same way he did his elbows and joints.
A gamble that barely works.
Without the force pushing against his left arm, Izuku can redirect his power to a winding elbow that blows away the villain's muscle mass, exposing the weak flesh underneath the biological armour.
Not all of it and certainly not around his good eye. The muscles there are growing thicker as the villain tries peddling back on one arm, terror in his good eye.
Good, that wasn't his target anyway.
His mangled right arm rises, fingers and thumb extending and his power concentrating around his hand. The green lightning of One For All is so concentrated there that his hand resembles a glowing green knife.
The villain doesn't see the danger, doesn't see the hand as it slices through the weak concentration of muscle fibres near the ruined cybernetic eye.
He probably does feel the fingers plunging through his eye socket.
Izuku doesn't stop there because he can't know whether the villain will stay down, especially after he's barely done any real damage to him.
So, he doesn't hold back as his hand shatters the villain's skull and punches straight through the other side. He watches as dark flesh is flung outward and his skull explodes. Bone shards slice Izuku's arm, his blood intermingling with the villain's ruined head.
His left eye seemingly stares at him in shock, the final sight the villain sees being a little boy who completely eclipsed his strength.
The villain falls back.
Izuku pulls his hand out of the man's skull, not looking at the gore covering his arm. He takes a breath because oh fuck he's just killed someone and it doesn't matter that this is a villain because he's going to prison and—
"You, you," Kouta's voice breaks him from his thoughts. "You saved me."
Izuku blinks, shocked still, and doesn't react to the small pair of arms wrapping around his waist. He raises his bloodied hand away from the boy and places the other on his head, confused because he is certain this would end differently.
"Right," Izuku says awkwardly, pushing his guilt and revulsion down. Right now, he needs to be strong and unburdened.
"He killed my parents," the boy sniffles.
That puts his words in context. The boy shakes and trembles. Errantly, Izuku is glad Kouta hasn't pissed himself because that would be too many bodily fluids in one day.
"Why?" Kouta asks, shaking. "After I insulted you and punched you."
Izuku snorts and shifts so that Kouta's facing away from the villain.
"You know, the first time All Might saved me I puked on him." Kouta laughs, startled. "Laughing's a lot easier than crying. Trust me on this."
"You're an idiot," Kouta says, and whilst his laughter is tinged with hysteria, he isn't going to have a nervous break just yet.
"I am. Now do me a favour and close your eyes."
Izuku waits until the boy does so and walks to Muscular, checking twice more that Kouta hasn't decided that listening to your elders is for losers. He doesn't look at the pulverised head, the shattered knee or the bloodstains. It's harder to avoid the deflated muscle and the horrible smell it brings—not decay, nothing like the corpse whales, but similar still.
For a moment, a very long moment, he contemplates tearing out the villain's heart and eating it. It's the nature of the abyss, to consume the power of those you killed. To the victor go the spoils.
The gnawing pit in his stomach seems to deepen, beckoning him forward one step at a time. He can feel the power Muscular holds and he can claim it.
All it would take is eating a mortal heart. Easy, compared to feasting upon the flesh of metallic godling's trapped beyond time.
You have more important things to deal with.
He walks past the body and towards the discarded cloak, setting aside his hunger.
Izuku tears a strip and makes a sling for his right arm. It hurts but this way it won't flap every which way and cause him more pain. With another strip, he wipes away the blood and sticky flesh. Even with his best efforts, his skin is still tinged red.
Stop thinking about it.
Izuku stands and he takes the remainder of the cloak, throwing it over the villain. He takes a few pieces of stone and uses them to pin down the cloak. It isn't much but it's better than nothing.
"I'm not sorry I killed you," Izuku whispers, finally, voice flat and hard as steel. "I'm sorry you were my enemy."
He looks to Kouta and sees a terrified boy a step away from a nervous break. The boy is weak, pitiful, and wholly incapable of surviving alone. He's prey to be hunted. Or maybe the boy is prey to be protected by the biggest predator around.
He likes that idea. So Izuku smiles at him, letting his predatory instincts fade in the presence of a little boy. They can always come back later if there's a threat.
"You wanna help put out that fire?"
He wonders how many enemies are waiting to face him. He wonders how many are waiting to fall to his power.
Kouta clambers up Izuku's back. Like this, the boy can't see Izuku's violent grin. Like this, he can't see the sheer exhilaration as he leaps off the cliff surrounded by a shower of green lightning.