'Humans were never meant to touch the dark. We are creatures of the god's fire, tiny and insignificant, moths flocking to an unobtainable flame. This earth and everything the light boundary touches is protected from the unreal logics of the dark. This was the equilibrium reached by Disparity, by the rise of light and the banishment of true dark. This uppermost layer was never meant to be touched by the dark and neither was the light meant to touch the foundation of darkness. Unfortunately, I am the one who bridged that gap.'
—The Third Letter from a Renegade as translated by the World Walker.
Hisashi Midoriya follows a man who lived centuries before Hisashi's grandparents had even met, walking through a fixed past in a place where time has no meaning.
The ghost of the past—or perhaps Hisashi is a spectre of the future—walks across universes as easily as fish swim. Train tracks appear wherever there is empty space. One time, Hisashi watched him walk through a black hole easier than Hisashi would walk up a single flight of stairs.
"I don't understand how you're sane."
They're in an underwater city. Somehow, Master Railroad had simply walked into the middle of a ritual to summon a great old one and asked for directions to the library, uncaring for the lack of oxygen or the fact that the creatures speak through ripples in spacetime.
Hisashi watches Master Railroad read through books that would leave the average man's brain bleeding.
As they journey from one layer of the abyss to the next, Hisashi realises something stranger. Nothing ever tries to harm the man. No matter what he speaks to, Master Railroad always gets help, be it from dragons or elder trees or things that can't be described without four-dimensional writing systems.
The man only lifts his head when the summoning ritual is complete and they summon a godling of the ocean depths. It rampages, destroying the city and leaving nothing behind. Nothing, that is, except for Master Railroad's nook.
Master Railroad questions the godling, understanding it in a way that Hisashi with the World Walker struggles with. He nods once the conversation is done and chooses another path, walking down a set of train tracks.
Each step leads them deeper and deeper through the abyss. All influence of the godflame fades away and they travel through realms of disparity where neither light nor dark truly rules. They cross those lands and enter the realms of darkness, lands where nightmares and infernal engines rule. This is a region where the laws are dictated by the strongest entity in the region.
Finally, they come upon a doorway built in a space of pure darkness. It is larger than the universe but no bigger than a regular door, made from crystal nightmares at the same time it is made from simple wood. He knows what is behind this door.
"The Singers."
Hisashi hasn't thought about them in what feels like an eternity. They exist in the very depths of the abyss, locked by seals of darkness and godflame and disparity.
At least, that's what they should be. The godflame locks are gone. No, worse than that, hellfire itself ate through them. And where true darkness should form a foundation for the locks, instead green lightning is present—living lightning that creatures of the abyss can feast on.
"You boys changed the immutable. You made yourselves gods and changed every law of the abyss without knowing it."
The lock seems to exist outside of time if future events have affected it. Or perhaps they're bound by the timeline of the gods, tethered to their power.
Hisashi shouldn't be able to get this close to the door. There are so many entities that will see this door shut forever. They'll destroy Hisashi for simply daring to look at it. And yet, he knows nothing will happen.
The songthatwillendalllife, the anathema-chant and choir of the undying, is silent today. The natural enemy to order and life is nowhere to be heard. These creatures, only one step below the three kings, are silent.
Master Railroad walks through the locks, never once seeing them.
Hisashi has no choice but to follow.
The door opens easily and reveals something that he can never describe. To see the Singers in their true form and live is impossible. They are there, each a universe unto themselves, but there is nothing majestic or beautiful about them. And yet, Hisashi can't perceive them. Not truly. They are there, but he can't be alive if they are.
To gaze upon a Singer is to experience death.
To commune with a Singer is to experience death.
To hear a Singer is to experience death.
Hisashi isn't dead, so he can't hear the Singers, he can't commune with them nor can he gaze upon them. All he can do is follow Master Railroad as he walks the realm of these god-nightmares. The realm is endless, unbound by petty constraints such as time or space. Each step spans a galaxy though he doesn't move forward. They walk past eternity and take a break at infinity before continuing with their journey through a place that should be death to anything lesser than one of the kings.
Even that, however, is left behind and they enter a space devoid of… of everything. Nothing exists. No, It is the absence of nothingness, a place existing where none should. He turns back and even the presence of the Singers is gone, their anathema presence vanished with the concepts of light and dark and disparity.
Only Master Railroad exists in this no-space.
He doesn't stop walking. He is driven by something greater, something that can't be explained. His desire to journey is ceaseless and endless. This is a man who walked the length of the abyss and kept walking towards something new.
"Stubborn bastard."
Time, for some reason, finally affects the ancient hero. His beard, static for however long the journey took, comes in. He doesn't care that it soon enough reaches his waist alongside the hair on his head. Nothing matters to him.
Master Railroad walks even as he ages, wrinkles and liver spots marking his skin. His muscles fade away as old age takes place. That is soon replaced with death. Driven only by his burning desire, the corpse of Master Railroad continues its journey through this no-space.
It might be hours or days or aeons that Hisashi follows. He has no need for sustenance, hasn't had any need for food or water since he first boarded that train. It's like his body doesn't truly interact with anything.
Eventually, the skeleton stops.
"Do you yet understand?"
The voice is deep, rich with experience and raspy from age. Fitting, he supposes, for a walking skeleton.
Hisashi stares at the skeleton. "I don't know why you dragged me along with you."
"This is the corpse you searched for many times."
He narrows his eyes. "No, that's not possible. I've been with you since the very beginning. You would have had to return the train to leave your hat."
"That is your responsibility, walker of worlds. You will set yourself in motion for this to happen. Listen, father to the shadowking. Listen carefully for this is your only chance."
Hisashi sighs. "Alright, I'm listening."
Talking to a skeleton doesn't even rank amongst the ten weirdest things he's done.
-TDB-
Izuku Midoriya's seventeenth birthday passes with more fanfare than he expects. There are well-wishers from his followers in the prison, the Lightning Bolts specifically bringing together their minuscule funds for a present of sorts. It's mostly just supplies but he appreciates the sentiment.
The only person truly indifferent to this day is Stain. Chizome barely opens his eyes when someone wishes Izuku a happy birthday.
"Does this mean your balls have finally dropped?"
Izuku throws a plastic knife at him. Chizome catches it between two fingers and flings it at the person approaching Izuku from behind.
From the sudden yelp, the pointy end probably landed in his eye. Izuku glances over and sees the man clutching his bleeding eye, a poorly constructed shank in his hands.
"Didn't we go over this on day one?" Izuku asks tiredly, letting others deal with the man.
It feels good to have followers who do the fighting for you. Izuku and Stain continue their conversation even as a violent beating occurs no more than five metres away from them. Brutality is nothing new to Izuku. He beat the shit out of Shouto repeatedly for months and killed his first person a year ago.
In the late afternoon, he receives a visitor. One he hadn't been ready to face.
Kouda is just as grumpy as the last time Izuku saw him and wears the same cap. It had been a gift from his parents and he'll likely never part with it.
"You've gotten big," Izuku blurts out.
He has. The boy is taller than Izuku remembers and a lot of his baby fat has fallen off. He even carries himself with more grace, the same grace Izuku learnt from martial arts.
Kouta glares at him but there are spots of pink on his cheeks. "You never called."
"I didn't think I had the right to call you."
"It's been eight months without you. You're supposed to be my…" Kouta wipes away his tears before they form.
Izuku knows the unspoken word. Brother. They aren't related by blood but by bond. Izuku took responsibility for him. First for his safety when they were held captive by All For One. And then for everything else when they were reunited.
It doesn't have to be said that Izuku will protect Kouta from everything in the world. It doesn't matter what the threat is because Izuku will deal with it. But seeing the brokenness in Kouta makes him realise that not being present is just as bad.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about you when I made this plan."
"I don't understand why you have to do this. You don't even know that kid?"
Izuku hums, understanding Kouta's frustrations. For all his bluster, he's still a lonely boy who doesn't know how to share very well.
"I would have done the same for you," Izuku reassures. "Most of this is for you. I want a better world for you to live in. But if I'm a criminal then they'll come after you and mum. I need to do this so they legitimise me. If I do this right, then the government will let me go free without violence. It'll be like they're saying I'm right."
"But you didn't do anything wrong."
Izuku nods. "Yes. But they don't see it like that. We just had a war and I'm holding the power of both sides. They want answers and reassurances. And I can give them. It might take weeks or months, but once they know the truth, they'll come to trust me again."
"You'll have to tell his story," Kouta snarls. "He took them from me."
"Yes. I know it better than anyone else." He wants to hug the kid so much. So little separates them. "He's not a good man. And what he's done can never be forgiven. But it gave me the push to stand up for that kid. I'll never ask you not to hate him. He took my mentor and friend from me. I know the pain better than you. But I just want you to listen. And maybe, just maybe, you'll understand what made him who he was. You said you wanted to be a historian, right?"
"Yeah."
"Sometimes you have to tell the story of people you don't like." Izuku forces a smile. "And maybe if you do, you'll learn that even the worst villains are just people who made some bad decisions. People with too much power that they used for wrong ends, but just people."
"I hate him," Kouta croaks. "I'm choking on it and I don't even have you with me."
Izuku lays his hand on the glass barrier separating them. "I'm sorry."
Kouta hesitates and that, more than anything else he's experienced, stings.
"Promise you'll be back soon."
"I promise."
"I turned seven and you weren't there."
"I know."
Kouta lays his hand on the barrier. For a moment, Izuku can imagine the glass is gone. His brother has small hands despite his huge presence in Izuku's heart.
Seeing Kouta lights a fire in Izuku's soul. He's been hesitating, using this stint in prison to ignore his responsibilities. But his brother needs him back.
You never asked what I needed.
"You never needed me," Izuku tells Mikumo.
He works with the lawyers more now, telling them to speed up proceedings. He uses his father's influence and coerces Fumikage to expedite things. Money and influence can do amazing things, especially when people are rioting in the streets for his freedom. It's the Lightning Bolts and their network, moving to Izuku's will. The riots are peaceful most of the time, but they drain the police of limited resources.
Things come to a head when international support comes through. Brazil's ambassador to Japan publicly denounces his imprisonment as illegal, threatening to cut billions in aid. There is pressure from the scientific community and many companies.
With everything arrayed against them, the judges involved in his case, judges he still hasn't seen, decide that moving him to house arrest is the best option for everyone involved.
His one friend doesn't stand from his customary seat. It isn't the oddest thing calling Stain a friend, but he's glad he was right about that idea so long ago. In another time and under different circumstances they could have been great friends.
"Chizome?"
"Yeah?"
This is the last day of his stint in Tartarus. There is something fragile about this interaction. It may very well be their last. Izuku refuses to let it end like that.
"Your cases are being reopened. All of them."
Stain doesn't fall out of his chair or anything so dramatic. But his eyes do widen. In them, Izuku's sees a flicker of hope.
He scoffs. "You still lost that bet."
Izuku laughs joyfully, the sound filling the room. Everyone pauses what they're doing to watch one stupid kid laugh his head off.
Before he is dragged away, Izuku bows to the room.
"Thank you for the lessons you've taught me." And because this is still a prison, he adds, "If you fuck with my people, I'll break you."
That is the last Izuku sees of Tartarus prison. He's shoved into a helicopter and flown to a new location. It takes a few hours, made more annoying by all the restraints they place on him. They're uncomfortable and useless. Not like the six rifles trained on him will do much as well.
The home is hidden away in a forest. The head of security spends a long time explaining every security measure they have from motion sensors to pressure plates in the inner areas to the mines and turrets in the outer perimeter.
Izuku gets bored at one point and punches a tree. It disintegrates into a million sharp splinters. They'd be harmful if not for the churning wind serving as a barrier.
There is an incessant beeping sound and it takes Izuku a moment to realise it's his explosive collar. He rips it off, keeping the explosion contained in one hand.
"I hope you understand that nothing you do can keep me here."
It isn't the private retreat he hoped it would be. The home may have been provided courtesy of the Yaoyorozu family—I really need to thank Momo—and is utterly secluded for miles in every direction, but everyone is given access to his life.
Two members of his legal team are always present, ready with dozens of questions and new developments relating to the case. Apparently, the government is facing legal pressure from those who lost someone in the war, and that number is in the tens of millions. His interview and the tireless work of his bloodthirsty lawyers have spun the story to make the war seem utterly preventable.
There are more interviews then he would like. The same lady from Quirk News Network spends four hours speaking to him each week on one topic or another, telling his story honestly. It propels the network from irrelevancy to supremacy, their offices expanding greatly.
"He genuinely did respect Hero and Hawkmoon," he tells her one chilly afternoon.
They're walking in the water garden, enjoying the autumn weather. He's dressed in a suit as always. His father apparently sent his measurements to a tailor in Italy and now he has a wardrobe full of formal clothing. This one is pale grey, not his best colour, but why not?
"Why, though? From everything you said, he hated heroes with a passion."
"He hated modern heroes. You need to understand that his childhood was at the end of Hero's Golden Age. It was Hero and her allies, Siren, Legion, Skybreaker, and all the rest that truly popularised the concept of heroes. Hawkmoon, Graviton Lance, and Master Railroad were their predecessors, and we call them heroes now, but they were mercenaries and part of the UN military."
"So, you're saying he couldn't adapt with the times like old person?"
"He was in his thirties when his brother became one of Japan's first heroes. It isn't a matter of age, but his perception of worthiness. Do you think anyone has come close to being equal to Hero's legacy?"
"All Might did."
Izuku smiles. "I believe he is equal to her legacy. He did take down a Great Tyrant. But it took centuries for him to arrive. All For One never saw anyone come close in all that time. Can you imagine how lonely that would be? Standing alone at the summit with no one to call a peer."
One day, he finds out that he is to be awarded a Nobel Prize for his contributions to the field of physics. Izuku blinks at the letter and reads it again and again. He'd been so busy with other things that he mostly forgot about submitting his grand unifying theory.
You're going to accept that, Mikumo says as if he has any say in the matter.
"Fuck no."
He doesn't want this. Releasing the Theory of Everything had been motivated out of spite and a need to change the narrative surrounding him. People are doing more important work than him who genuinely care for their research.
Izuku contemplates the letter for days at a time, staring at the small lake on the edge of the property. He comes here when he needs time alone from everyone. Perhaps one day he will understand why the sight of water still his heart and brings some measure of peace to his soul.
In the end, his decision is simple. He requests a camera and records a simple message.
"I believe strongly that the body of knowledge should be shared freely and without cost," he begins slowly. "When we work together, we achieve more than we can ever imagine. And that is why I must decline. I kept this knowledge to myself longer than I had any right to do so. There was no good reason for it. If I accept this prize, then I must willingly betray my convictions. My convictions which led to me being unable to decline in person. There are others more worthy of this achievement than I am. Thank you for your consideration. It will forever be an honour."
He sends the video and ignores the absurdity of his life.
Today, nine months from the day he was arrested and a year since All Might fell, Izuku enters a courtroom for the first time.
From what he understands, in cases this high profile, public proceedings over the next few weeks are nothing more than a review of the evidence and the final opportunity to bring forth a witness. It is mostly for the benefit of the public who had no access to the evidence.
A decision has already been made. It won't be told for weeks, maybe months, but the judge has already made a verdict.
As he takes his seat in the courtroom, Izuku hopes that they will see him as innocent. Because if they don't, the cost in bloodshed will be high.
If they find him guilty, Izuku will have to become everything he fears.
-TDB-
Shuichi Iguchi, once a vigilante turned villain, is now defined by his loyalty to a boy—no, he's a man now—imprisoned for the sake of his ideals.
Long ago, he followed Stain's beliefs blindly. He refuses to do the same with Izuku because Izuku would think less of him if he simply parroted someone else's words. He's learnt the flaws in Izuku's ideals, each instance of hypocrisy and every answer that doesn't account for the reality of the situation. It reminds Shuichi that everyone, no matter their power, fails to reach perfection. Izuku is a man striving for an impossible dream, a man trying to overturn a violent world with peaceful words. It will fail but Shuichi finds it admirable.
Izuku Midoriya tries to reach that impossible standard ceaselessly. That makes him worth following. A day will come soon where they must resolve things with violence. He can feel it in his bones. When that day comes, Shuichi will be ready.
For now, Kouta is his main responsibility. Protecting him had been the last order Izuku gave him in person. Since that day that redefined how the world saw Izuku, the day that showed the world someone entrusted by the greatest hero and the greatest villain to change the world, since that electrifying day, Shuichi has not spoken to Izuku. Had his master wanted to speak to him, then it wouldn't be that difficult to contact him.
Shuichi follows the boy on his way home from school. He's with a girl with a long horn protruding from her forehead. The girl is vaguely familiar and stirs up a memory of a news report. Something about All Might and the Yakuza? They both take the same route home, but they've decided not to return home immediately. Foolish. Things aren't safe yet and the marks of the war have yet to fade.
The park they play in wasn't there a year ago. It had once been a shopping mall and apartment complex shattered by All For One's power. Someone had found it simpler to lay grass, hire Kamui Woods, and convert it to a giant park.
Following Kouta and avoiding detection from him and from any other group is a nightmare. There's still a bounty on his head, a minor one, but money is money when you're starving. Thankfully, there isn't a kill-order on him.
Shuichi takes the long way around to the park, keeping Kouta in his sight as best he can whilst avoiding detection from the people following the boy. They've been stalking the boy the last few days, following him from school to the bus. They always back off then.
There's four of them dressed casually, acting like two couples. It's a good disguise, one that he missed for a few days.
A moment comes when the park is empty and Kouta is vulnerable. Easy enough to snatch him with only a little girl as a witness. The stalkers move with precision, breaking off from their pairs.
Shuichi takes that moment to slip out of his hiding spot behind a tree and slam his elbow into a woman's throat. She makes a pained groan, alerting the others. By the time they turn to face him, Shuichi has her pinned to the ground, his boots keeping her pinned by the neck.
"Don't go near him," Shuichi warns. "Do you really think Izuku Midoriya's sworn brother isn't protected?"
The other three say nothing, two moving in a circle around him. Classic tactic. One in front. Two in the blind spots.
Shuichi pulls his longsword from its hidden place and readies it. This isn't his original sword. That one broke trying to fight a mutant with diamond-hard skin after the bounty on his head. That fight had only ended by Shuichi clawing out her eyes and leaving her to bleed out.
Her screams still haunt him. He pushes his discomfort down. Izuku gave him an order and he will follow it, no matter his personal feelings.
"We just want the girl," the man ahead says. "Stay out of this."
Shuichi stabs the woman below him.
He leaps away, avoiding something fast and sharp. He fades amongst the trees, taking advantage of the overgrowth to circle back around them.
"Look, I'll kill all four of you. I'm giving you one last chance to back off."
They don't. They never do.
A few minutes later, Shuichi has four corpses to deal with.
-TDB-
Fumikage Tokoyami crosses the distance between Japan and a small town in rural America with one gigantic stride. Night changes to day with the shift in time zone. He sniffs, nose stinging from smoke and something foreign.
Finding his allies is a matter of following the immaterial chains that bind them together. They are always there for him to perceive. It is part of his domain to see the chains of obligation that bind people. Some days, he is tempted to manipulate those chains. On those days, he hates himself a tad.
It takes a few minutes and getting lost before he finds Maya Yotsuba, Izanami of the Royal Guard. Her uniform is rumpled and one sleeve torn to shreds.
Maya meets him with no greeting. "Get to work."
"How bad?"
"This is the seventh site. The infection has been spreading from a central node we've just localised."
He clenches his fist. "How have you contained information from the public?"
She points at the plume of smoke. Thick, acrid stacks of smoke obscure the horizon. "The army started the fire. They're using it as cover."
Fumikage turns his head slowly. "They know of the abyss?"
"We had to, little crow. There's a coalition of world leaders we've put together in secret to contain the abyss. I kept you out of things, but even with their help, we're losing the fight to the abyss."
That chills him to the bone. For things to be so bad that they need to resort to an information reveal, limited though it is, breaks every tenet of secrecy that has been drilled into him.
He follows where she leads, down a weathered road with cracks and pits marring the dark tarmac. Burning flesh greets them quickly. Bodies upon bodies of the dead, stacks of corpses burning amidst the destruction.
"There's no point to heroics," he says, looking at the corpses. "Not with this happening. I thought... I thought I could support Izuku."
"I gave up my right to the Throne for you," she says. "Just to force the household to follow your ideal, I had to give it up. Don't you dare lose hope before you even try."
"I'm sorry. I don't have much interest in your internal politics, but I am sorry for forcing you down that route."
She smiles and it is radiant. "I rather like not being a bargaining chip for my father."
She leads him and he sees the devastation wrought by soldiers in white uniforms. Some have quirks that they use to unearth a massive network of glowing roots, pink and sickly and dripping a corrosive fluid. Others use their quirks to burn away the infection from a safe distance.
With a flick of his wrist, he summons Watatsumi. He doesn't permit the dragon to reach its full, towering height. Instead, it is only as large as a bus.
The dragon slinks towards the roots, displacing the soldiers. It opens its maw and incandescent purple flames spew forth, blinding in their intensity.
"Obey their orders," he commands once the dragon is done.
It bows its head before setting off to follow the soldiers. They've seen the dragon before, but their apprehension is evident.
"There's a reason I hired you." She points at the burning structures. "This is just the outskirts."
The main town is worse. The root network has spread to the point that it connects buildings together like tendons. Thick pustules dangle from them. An arm sticks out of one. Fumikage forces down his wave of disgust as they walk across the pink crystals that have replaced the road.
One of the pustules pops and a dark shape falls to the ground. It is bipedal, yes, but those scales and glass feathers do not belong to a human.
Before he can assess it further, a beam of light bisects the creature in half. A dozen more and it burns in pure light, screeching in its final moments.
"And this is the seventh site?"
"In the region. More across the world. The more time we waste here, the worse things will get elsewhere."
It isn't technically a command but it carries the same weight. He was inducted and stolen away from UA for this very reason. Inquisitor is what they named him. Battling the abyss is his role. Finding weakness and cleansing it are his duties.
He searches his soul for something appropriate to deal with the pustules.
It is a child of mist and fire, formless and transient. Its smoky form splits apart to a dozen streams, each heading towards a pustule. On contact, a sickly fire manifests and chews through the pustules, leaving less than ash.
They continue further into the city, avoiding the area where the roots have grown thick. It means to detours but better that than destabilising the foundation any further.
As they head in, crystal growths sprout from the ground. The miasma surrounding them is thick and pungent. Fumikage chokes at one point, the smell overpowering.
"Survivors?"
He can't even see pets or birds. It the roots make a sound, an odd vibration deep in the bones with each pulsation.
"Maybe."
They continue, passing homes ruined by raw force and scorched black by fire. It's a scene out of a horror movie, a state of carnage that he hates staring at. Even the pets have been put down, cats and dogs and birds, all manner of them piled up and burning.
Fumikage stops at the sight that greets him. It is so startling that he has to blink multiple times to ensure he's seeing correctly.
He takes a step forward, space distorting around him. At the end of the step, there is a young woman in his arms.
"I apologise for their acts," he tells the dazed woman, setting her down gently.
He sets her down gently and turns to face the group of five in white uniforms. He knows them all which is why he's so surprised. None of them is crazy.
He cocks his head. "Have you all gone mad?"
Their leader, a middle-aged man that Fumikage's spoken to often steps forward. "We were to execute the last infected."
Maya smiles sadly. "I am so sorry you had to see this."
"Please don't kill me," the woman begs, scrambling back. "I'm not like the rest. I'm fine. See."
Past the soot and ash, she looks like a healthy woman on the outside. Perhaps a bit overweight, but nothing makes her anything but a normal quirkless woman.
Look closer, my prince. Feel her in the depths of your soul.
Dark Shadow is a looming presence over the woman, the blade of disparity held in its shadowed claws. The blade is pointed at the woman, one wrong move will mean her death. He hadn't even noticed the demon manifesting.
It is good then that Dark Shadow is not governed by biological reactions that might cause him to twitch.
He closes his eyes and touches that place in his soul that binds the endless hordes to his will. It is the power of his kingship, the endless sea of tribute from which he can draw power. And with it, he can feel more than his mortal senses would entail.
With those senses, he can feel her. Humans are, fundamentally, creatures of the most orderly portions of the godflame. There is little difference between his dragons and humans other than the portion of the godflame they touch. Humans are firmly entrenched in orderly godflame, just beyond the reach of disparity.
But there, coiling around her brain stem and spine is a parasite. It has taken root, spreading and infecting her with the same crystalline logic that infected the other and the earth. Except, this part of the root network is smarter, adapting to hide better. It may very well not be detected for years until she becomes a conduit to something truly abominable.
He opens his eyes to the light of the mundane world. Smoke and ash make his eyes water, and perhaps that is a good excuse for his tears.
Close your heart to the pain.
He knows what must be done, knows the cost of protecting people. He fought in a war and saw what needed to be done to protect his country.
There are only two options left: be weak now and spare her, and let others die, or pay the price now for potentially millions. It should be a simple choice.
"Don't," she pleads.
He still hesitates.
He looks around and sees the devastation wrought by the endlessly mutating infection, the odd crystal spires and glowing blue lattices incubating a thousand thousand abominations that will burrow through the earth and make a massive network connecting the pulsating heart of the colony to the rest of the continent.
It may take years or decades, maybe centuries. He can't be certain of the timescale, but in the depths of his chained soul, he knows it to be true.
Behind him are those who wear the same uniform that he does. There's maybe entirely white, but he bears the same emblem, the same mark that binds them together in this not-so-secret mission to protect the world.
He hears the woman scramble away and raises a hand to forestall Dark Shadow attacking her. The demon obeys, though he feels the annoyance through the bond they share.
"I don't want to make this choice," he admits to those who have seen more and done worse.
People have died because of his decisions and orders, because of his naivete and inexperience. During the war to defend Japan, his hounds had killed those impeding him and he had sunk ships with his strength. He had taken the life of one of the Great Ten regardless that the man begged for mercy at the end.
But they had all been enemy combatants willing to destroy his nation, people willing to harm his family and friends. Not an innocent woman in the first stages of pregnancy.
He can sense that child, that budding potential for human life. It is tiny and glorious and should be protected. It shouldn't be snuffed out.
Maye sends a beam of hardlight to a crystal growth that suddenly starts glowing, burning it in her light.
"It's not an easy choice," she says. "None of us here will think less of you. I failed the first few times I had to make it, and I was bred and trained to do this. I was raised to be a ruthless killing machine and I still couldn't do it. Fight this war how you can and let others be strong where you are weak."
He gazes at her soldiers—at his soldiers for he stands as second-in-command—and sees the understanding. They will not think of him as weak for preserving his innocence. Maybe it's something they wished they could do as well.
I don't understand the choice as you do, Dark Shadow says. I only understand it through the lens of your experience. I have no interest in the lives of millions, let alone one who will kill many more. But choosing to let others do this is your right as king.
He swallows and turns once more. The woman is still fleeing, running strong against the inevitable. She is weak and defenceless. He can justify it as much as he wants, but this is an execution. Doing this means spilling innocent blood. Something fundamental will change. If he takes this step, then he's taking a step towards a future filled with violence and death.
With his powers, who will hold him in check when murder is the expedient option? It certainly won't be Shouto who only cares for a few. Perhaps Izuku will stop Fumikage from purging a larger town or city or country out of convenience.
Perhaps.
"One innocent life now for a million innocent lives later." He laughs bitterly, remembering his father's words. "Necessity is the death of morality."
Yet, if she lives, won't he be responsible for everyone else who dies later. People will judge him for his acts, and when they don't forgive his acts, Fumikage will only find joy because it means they are alive to judge him.
He closes his heart to all empathy and kindness.
Maya stands beside him and lays her hand on his shoulder. Another does the same beside him. Soon, the soldiers he came with stand in a line with him at the centre. They stand in solidarity with his choice.
From his soul comes forth a deluge of crows, dozens of the abyssal creatures chained only to his will. They fly in silence, the usual discordant note gone with his grief. The flock catches up to her soon, and though her screams for mercy reach him, he does not listen.
He does not turn away from what they do. If nothing else, he will see the results of his actions.
"Let's get you home, Inquisitor," Maya says when the deed is done and the infection cleansed.
"Not yet."
He walks towards the beating heart of this infection, thrumming with pent up rage. His steps blacken the ground though he hardly notices.
Dark Shadow clothes itself around Fumikage, granting him the physical strength and knowledge to wield the Blade of Disparity. He draws upon the reservoirs of energy, the lines of tribute from the dragons and godlings and entire worlds consumed by his quest for power, and channels it through the blade.
It emits a churning miasma of true dark, and on its edge, he can see a blazing inferno of energy. It encapsulates disparity, the fine equilibrium between infernal flames and endless darkness.
He raises the blade.
With a single slash, a wave of death surges forward, consuming the town. It incinerates the heart of the infection in purple light and chews through the future of this creature with the inky black smoke.
The destruction continues through the root network, finding every spot they burrowed into. Heat and darkness consume the infection until only ash remains.
When it is done, and the wave dissipated, he lets the blade and Dark Shadow return to his soul.
"Now, we can go."
He walks away from the burning crater where the town once stood, miles upon miles of pure destruction, and heads home.
Hours later, he finds himself staring out the window of his room, still dressed in his uniform and armour. It is stained with soot and smells like ash but he doesn't care. Why should he care that black marks cover the formerly pristine floor and walls?
Maya enters without knocking. She sits beside him and shoves a glass in his hands.
He fumbles, fingers slow and unresponsive.
She pours till both glasses are full. The waft of alcohol hits his nose harshly.
"I don't drink," he says as she raises her glass. "I'm a child."
She scoffs. "You're a Special Asset of the Imperial Household, granted the Mandate of Heaven. You can drink as much as you want. Besides, it's a tradition."
Tentatively, he takes a sip. It tastes vile, burning from his tongue all the way down his throat.
"Disgusting."
"You'll get used to the taste."
"Why subject yourself to this?"
Her smile widens. "You know that feeling you've had like the worlds' closing in and getting too large? That new feeling you got when you killed her? This makes it feel slightly less bad."
He hums. Then he takes the bottle and pours another glass. Maybe it will drown out the screams haunting him.
-TDB-
"In the beginning before beginnings, there was darkness," Shouto Todoroki says in the dead of night.
They have been sailing for two days now. Shouto has come to learn that his father gets seasick easily and that Momo is a terrible swimmer. He's so come to learn the layout of the ship and the nature of the people onboard. It's slightly more entertaining than the base they've spent months training and planning.
The lap of waves against the hull steals his soft words that Momo listens to attentively. The bustle of the crew organising the decks does the same.
The alcove they've sequestered for themselves in hides them from sight. Messing with time means that no matter how long their conversation is, only a few minutes will pass.
"It was the only force that mattered. Darkness was laws defined by strength, infernal engines and sword logics. Life did not exist but there were still creatures birthed of nightmares undreamt, gods of desolation and the Singers that must never be freed for they will annihilate all heat and life."
He lifts his hand and summons the godflame. It burns a path to the depths of the abyss and shows images of shambling monstrosities that no human language can ever begin to describe. He shows her realms of infernal logic and areas untouched by time and entropy.
Momo takes it all in bravely, unwavering in the face of creatures that defy explanation. There is fear and apprehension, yes, but steel resolve as well.
Being kidnapped has done wonders for her as far as Shouto is concerned.
"And then came the first spark of light as the godflame was reborn. That light spread, burning away the darkness with its might. You might call this event the true Big Bang but it is the start of Disparity."
A projection appears. One end is bright as the sun but the other is the absence of light. They battle, one gaining strength before losing it.
Eventually, the two forces reach an equilibrium, the gap between them widening as a new force fills it.
"Disparity was born from this equilibrium. The first forms of true-life grew from Disparity. It is neither opposed nor controlled by light or darkness. Disparity is complementary to the two, a force in its own right, but its strength is governed by equilibrium. Should one side gain too much strength, then Disparity will fall to the wayside until the cycle begins anew."
The image shifts, showing their universe in all its glory. The sweeping tale of the suns singing his name in praise fills the air and the warm glow of every living thing wards off the chill.
"Our universe is the highest layer of the abyss. The suns are anchors of the godflame, protecting you and countless forms of life from the spread of darkness. The darkness of the abyss should never have reached so far and neither should light have reached the depths."
An image of Izuku appears, perhaps idealised by the broadness of his shoulders and the arrogance of his smile. The lightning is accurate and serves as a reminder of the electric potential in Izuku holds.
It reminds Shouto of the day they fought. The day Izuku saved him without knowing him. The day Shouto took his first step on the path to godhood.
"Izuku's lightning should belong to the godflame but it permeates the foundation of the abyss. That lightning is One For All, and like all quirks, it belongs to the godflame, but Izuku gave it life past that. His living lightning is a manifestation of his right to change the laws as he pleases. The king is a law unto himself and his lightning is his power to enforce the laws."
Shouto pulls his sleeve up and shows a deep scar where an infection burrowed its way in him.
"Even I am not immune. I spent too long in the depths of the abyss and brought some back with me. My broken soul was filled by the power of the first flame and I gained its sight. I don't know what Fumikage changed, but we've entered a new era in Creation itself."
He falls silent, falling out of the trance he built up explaining everything. Momo watches him, waiting for him to speak again, but he has said everything he needs to.
"I want to call bullshit on your story."
Shouto smirks. "But you won't."
"I won't."
He stands and helps her to her feet, not that she needs it. But it does seem the polite thing to do.
"That was the lesson. You need to know the history of everything to know what you're manipulating." He touches a hand to his chest. "To me went entropy and energy, creation and destruction in equal measure. If you aren't limited by what you believe your quirk to be, perhaps one day you'll be able to rewrite the laws and see the future. Perhaps one day you might be a Goddess of Creation."
They head to the quarters they share. Space had been tight and putting the two UA classmates in the same room had been the only compromise.
She trusts him to behave appropriately, not that he has any interest in her physical body. The metaphysical aspects of Momo Yaoyorozu are far more interesting.
They split off, Momo going wherever she's been assigned—learning, apparently, never stops when you're Momo—and Shouto to the planning room.
He listens to the convoluted plan for a few more before clapping his hands together. Something about their ship being the navy's latest experiment in true stealth capabilities. It all sounds like something Izuku would love—though the thought of him leaves Shouto bitter and empty because they can't be together, perhaps won't for another year or more, so that Izuku can see his plans through.
He smirks at the attention. "Your plan is stupid. I can warp."
Momo knows, so she doesn't react. Neither does the Admiral. The others, though, revaluate his presence here. After all, one warp quirk brought Japan to its knees.
Because of that revelation, they stop their absurd attempt to sneak into China over weeks. Any idea of using barges and diving equipment and a hike through the middle of nowhere dies.
"Follow my lead," Endeavour commands when the meeting is done.
Shouto nearly rolls his eyes. Nearly. "Fine."
"Scout the area. Find a hidden place overlooking the base."
Shouto burns a path to the skies above Tianjin. The city was once a thriving metropolitan area. Following the attack on it nearly a century ago it has become a fortress of a city built in the crater left behind.
With his sight, he makes out three separate air bases. Garrisons dot the landscape, blurring the line between city and army camp. The extensive network of AA encampments overlooks the city and the docks with their dozen-odd ships. Some of the ships bear the scars of damage from the last war. Others are being built in preparation for the new war.
In the middle of all this is a mountain looming over the city. It isn't natural by any stretch.
Soldiers patrol it, and it even has a few artillery platforms. But the peak, inaccessible without climbing equipment and getting past a few dozen soldiers, is unwatched.
Shouto warps back, startling the crewmen on the deck. "Found a spot."
The Admiral nods. "Godspeed, Endeavour. Godspeed, Shouto. The fate of your country depends on this. The attack on the Russian side will begin in six hours."
Hours later, Shouto finds himself uncomfortably close to his father. He's standing over the man who sits in meditation, unconsciously breathing in tune with the pulsing of the sun.
They're hidden by a tarp, courtesy of Momo, which shares the same light-bending properties of the navy ship. With it in place, no one will see them.
They don't speak to each other. Everything that needs to be said has already been said.
Exactly six hours later, his father stands. Shouto mimics the act, surprised as always that he's nearly as tall as Endeavour.
His father brings his hands together as if in prayer. The fire surrounding his father dies down. Shouto sees the spark of fire he concentrates in the very centre of his palms, an incandescent orb of bright fire.
Shouto watches him concentrate more and more fire to his hands. And do the same thing for a few more minutes. Yes, it's a bit impressive that it's as hot as a star.
"Okay, so what's special about this?" he asks snidely. "It's just condensed fire."
His father scowls. "Follow the air, boy."
He cocks his head and sees with his right eye. And then he sees the currents of heated air, almost like whips, emanating from that small orb of fire. It takes him a moment to understand that Endeavour is moving slightly heated air by generating a temperature gradient. It's like what he did with the grand cage to trap All For One, but infinitely more subtle.
Shouto decides he can't see his father's subtle use of the fire well enough, so his sight transcends his body. He watches from a throne in the sky, built purely from his desire to witness his father's intricate power.
His father is like the mouth of a river. There is one main branch of heated air travelling through the fortress city, but it splits off, winding its way to every part of the base. The streams travel close to the ground, each dropping a minuscule spark of hellfire on the way.
When the fortress city is seeded, when every critical location and artillery platform and AA battery has a spark of hellfire beside it, his father inhales. His breath pulls layer upon layer of fire from the compressed orb.
Shouto watches as his father breathes in a small star. And then, he feels his father draw on a tiny aspect of the godflame, supercharging the sun lodged in his throat. Shouto allows his father access to copious quantities of godflame.
The fire goes from being as hot as the surface as the sun to something far in excess of that. This heat is something he'd expect from a star going supernova.
With one great exhale, Enji does something truly amazing. Every stream of warm air wrapped around the fortress city becomes a guiding channel for the heat of a collapsing star.
It is a flash of heat and light that tears through the fortress city. In the span on an instant, entire chunks of the base are vaporised and those that don't catch fire. The sudden shift in temperature pushes the air away, a sheer blast wave that sends men flying and tanks toppling, buildings crumbling and streets collapsing.
It takes a long few seconds before the blinding light dies down, revealing the raging fire consuming the fortress city. Alarms blare and every security system in the region activates, but it doesn't matter.
The main base, built on the centre of a crater as defiance against a prior attack, will be a smouldering ruin once more. Tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, will die because of his father's attack.
And the world will blame Russia for this.
It makes Shouto smile. This is a form of strength he's never considered. The power to kill and affect the geopolitical landscape as he pleases.
I'll build you a throne, Izuku. I'll build it with fire and blood and bone.
He wonders how happy Izuku will be when Shouto hands him his society, all rebellion and dissent tidied up without Izuku getting his hands dirty. He can be a shining hero. Shouto will do the actual work.
"Boy, we're done here." Endeavour's voice is gruff, but there's a shred of vulnerability in it.
"That wasn't fire, not really," he whispers. "You were controlling heat and temperature. The fire was just a by-product. You didn't just become stronger by fighting All For One. You completely shattered past the barrier of fire manipulation. This is just a few steps away from controlling energy itself."
He stares at his father, truly looks at the man. For the first time, he looks at his father's potential for power. And what he sees astounds him more than the supreme act of heat manipulation.
Enji Todoroki's potential is limitless. He was marked as a potential bearer of the godflame at birth, and those marks are still there. The godflame belongs to Shouto, but Enji's soul is still a receptacle for greater power. His soul is like a new lake that has only just experienced its first rains. So long as his father keeps fighting stronger opponents, then he'll become stronger.
Staring at his father, he wonders if this is how gods are born.
Given the right circumstances, he might be my equal one day.
"Do you think this is what Fuyumi meant by us spending time together?" he asks instead, hiding his worry.
"You've become even more of an ass."
Shouto shrugs. "Yup. At least I'm not contemplating genocide, which, I can do at leisure."
Endeavour grunts. "Don't be stupid, boy."
"I think you might be as strong as All Might now."
Endeavour merely glares at the burning city. "This isn't strength."
Shouto disagrees. The power to choose who lives and dies is the greatest power.
"Well, I'll finish the job now."
He takes one step forward, feeling the sparks of godflame his father seeded across the fortress. With a thought, they become a twisting inferno once more. Thick columns of fire that engulf the city, fire so hot is vaporises concrete and gives third degree burns to anyone still alive. It is fire so bright that it blinds anyone looking towards it.
It isn't enough. Endeavour had focused on the military targets, the fortress itself and the army camps. The fires haven't affected the rest of the city. It hasn't burnt down the skyscrapers or suburbs or schools or hospitals.
Shouto wants to see it all burn. He wants to watch hear the screams of the damned. He wants to change the world with his fire. Who cares about a few million human lives?
He extends his hand and searches for living souls with his abyssal sight. He finds the spark of godflame within them, the spark that gives them life. Just as his father used sparks of hellfire to channel his power, Shouto can do the same with the godflame in people's hearts. He can set eight million people aflame with a single twist of his power.
"Stop."
-TDB-
Enji Todoroki knows that one day he'll be called to account for his sins. Today, he's stained his soul red with so many more deaths.
All for Japan as he tells himself. It's a lie, a poor one at that. There is no justification for this act of destruction. Too many will die because of this. More still as the Songhua River is flooded.
Worse than all that is his child. Shouto, unfortunately, takes after Enji in all the wrong ways. He doesn't have his mother's kindness or patience. His kid is a little shit, and it gets worse with each passing day.
"Well, I'll finish the job now."
The boy says it casually, as if more death is necessary. Shouto says it with a level of indifference that no human should ever have. It horrifies Endeavour, makes him hesitate. That moment of hesitation is a mistake. In that moment, fires engulf the fortress once more, hotter than those Enji spent hours stoking.
The thunderclap from the displaced air deafens Enji as more of the city collapses, concrete vaporised and steel melted. Humans, living and dead alike, catch on fire from the temperatures. Shouto reaches out with his hand and Enji sees what his son plans to do. Enji doesn't know how many people live in this city, but he knows his son will kill them all.
"Stop," Enji commands.
Shouto freezes immediately, his body still conditioned to obey Enji. Then he cocks his head and glares at Enji.
"Not like this," Enji says before his son can get a word in.
For a moment, he wonders if the boy will listen. There's no chance in hell of winning a fight against him. The gap in power is too great. Enji knows very well how big it is. He engineered it, after all. Everything he did, he did so that his son could hold the power of God.
Now, he can't truly command Shouto. He placed his trust in the boy, and now he'll have to see if it will be reciprocated. Enji set him on this path and moulded him. The city is engulfed by the strongest flames in the world. And yet, what has Shouto done but imitate Enji? Staring at Shouto is like seeing himself, the worst parts of himself, all the cruelty and hate and spite embodied in one person.
Enji taught Shouto to fear the flame. He showed Shouto how to be strong. Now, he'll have to see if he hasn't made the greatest mistake in his life.
"Fine." The little shit smirks. "We'll try your methods, old man."
Together, they warp away from the burning city.