'This plan is older than eternity and I have no choice but to take part. Each use of my quirk weakened the boundaries and let darkness spill unto the world. Tiny, infinitesimal droplets of darkness, yes, but aspects of the depths of the abyss nonetheless. They would take root in the world, hiding in certain quirks, and growing greater and greater. Once it began, it could never be stopped. Not if I existed. That's why I disappeared. One day, I walked away from it all and journeyed to the depths of darkness. I've lived here for aeons, learning the deepest secrets of darkness and light and the disparity between them. If you find this, you are worthy of knowing the truth. Finally, at last, I trust you to understand. Perhaps this is the wrong gamble. It does not matter. My choices were never my own. Everything has led to them. Three kings to the great domains: scorch to godflame, slave to disparity, and shadow to dark.'
—The Fourth Letter from a Renegade as translated by the World Walker.
Fumikage Tokoyami has come to appreciate the comfort alcohol offers. It helps to silence the screams of those he has killed for the sake of saving more. It obscures the sight of those who died confused and in agony because he was too slow. It stings his nose so he doesn't smell burnt flesh.
The weeks since that mission to America have passed by in a daze. His frustration is evident to everyone and no one speaks to him a moment longer than they need to. His expectations for the new batch of recruits is absurd but no one is willing to confront the man who can summon a dragon and flatten a town.
"You should be nicer to them. No one likes a mean crow."
No one, that is, except for Mei Hatsume. She's leaning over his shoulder, indifferent to Fumikage's frustration. She points to one of the trainees.
"That one's gonna have a permanent injury if you keep pushing."
Fumikage sighs and raises his hand, calling a halt to the training. The trainees collapse to the ground, breathing laboured, and some even muttering a few prayers to good.
Their actual trainer, the same man who taught Fumikage how to wield his knives—a knife now that Shouto has the other one—exhales sharply.
"Lord Inquisitor, I believe they would be better served by studying tactics for the next few days."
The suggestion is insulting because it seeks to remove Fumikage from the process. These are his soldiers that he'll lead into battle one day. And if they aren't good enough, then they'll die young.
Still, maybe he has been pushing them too hard.
"I expect to see your training plan by the evening."
The man nods. "Inquisitor."
"You really like that name," Hatsume says after the man has left, poking him. "You're just like every teenage boy who gets a bit of responsibility."
Fumikage rolls his eyes. "Is there a specific reason you are antagonising me?"
"Those equipment modifications for the rookies took a while to integrate with existing manufacturing infrastructure, but it's done."
Those modifications are minor changes to deal with abyssal monsters. The emphasis has changed from defence against guns to defence against bladed and blunt weapons. Constant light sources and multiple communication protocols had also been part of his requirements.
The other major change had been the abyssal weapons he'd had forged from dragon teeth and cleansed with his powers. Those will be able to harm some of the lesser powers of the abyss. It isn't much, but it's significantly better than before. Maybe he won't need to write as many letters to grieving parents.
"Thank you." She still looks expectant. "I'll get you your testing equipment."
"You're not too bad for a crow."
She smiles and it is radiant, lifting Fumikage past his dark mood and into joyful realms. He watches her retreating form and wishes, suddenly and strongly, that they were friends. She may not have been in a heroics course, but she still represents a part of his life that he misses. Seeing her always leaves him feeling like he is drowning because she is happy and energetic despite the war and the rebuilding that came after.
He keeps to his work, writing reports and organising missions. He doesn't hesitate as he once did over possibly ordering men to their deaths. Once he would have been terrified of sending out a small squad of four to a combat zone and overfilled it to six or eight members. Now he knows that is a waste of soldiers and an insult to the training they've gone through.
The news surrounding China takes him by surprise. One moment everything is normal. The next, evacuation orders are being given to every town and city along the Songhua River. Only hours later and Tianjin suffers an attack of such proportions that an accurate body count is useless.
A part of him, the part that remembers fighting and bleeding against China during the war, is glad that they've suffered the same pain Japan has. The feeling is infectious. It is also fleeting and temporary. Whatever cruel satisfaction he found fades away and leaves ash.
It takes him a few minutes to figure out what happened. The former Imperial Heir had likely flooded the river with ocean water and directed the flow towards the city of Harbin. The devastation from that would be catastrophic, but the damage done to the crops and soil from saltwater would be even worse. The river itself might even be toxic to anything that relies on freshwater.
Tianjin burning could only have been orchestrated by either a spectacular series of thermobaric explosions—which would have been detected before they could be set off—or a quirk that can set a city on fire.
He is a king, Dark Shadow says, watching Fumikage closely. It is his right to use his powers as he pleases. The Earth is part of his domain, not yours. If he wishes to set the universe alight, what right do you have to stop him?
"I have every right to stop this madness. This is my home as well."
Fumikage takes a giant step and finds himself above the Yellow Sea, watching the destruction from the comfort of his dragon's back. It rumbles, agitated by his own worry.
He waits patiently for Shouto to detect him. Fumikage can sense him somewhere over the ocean, likely on a ship.
Then there is a flash of infernal flame and Shouto appears, floating in the air before Fumikage. With a thought, his dragon vanishes, leaving only the two of them. Two kings floating over a burning city.
"Shouto. Why?"
His… friend seems too premature, especially not when he just committed this atrocity. Fumikage doesn't reach for his sword but it is a close thing.
Shouto's lips quirk. "Orders."
"Orders can be refused," he snarls, unbelieving. "You don't take orders from anyone. Nothing chains you. Not your family. Not me. Not Izuku."
"Did you want another war? Now, Russia and China will aim their weapons at each other. They won't shoot at us."
"You think geopolitics matters? We're fighting a losing war with the abyss."
Shouto nods. "I know. I saw what would come months ago."
"Then why?" Fumikage asks, disbelieving. "Why not help me? Why waste your time here."
"Because Izuku wants to change the world. We'll cull the worst enemies now before the final test comes." Shouto walks closer. "Fumikage, soon enough, mankind will have to fight for its right to stand tall. I'll make Izuku a king. I'll give him a new society no matter the cost. I'll forge his crown out of blood and bone if I must."
"You're mad."
"No, I'm not." Shouto smirks "This is the new normal."
A thought strikes Fumikage. He can end this cleanly. The godflame was bound once. It can be chained again. All he must do is remove it from Shouto's soul. In simple terms, he needs to alter a god's soul.
Impossible for anyone but another god.
Fumikage is very intimate with the structures of souls and the bonds that form them. He can see the towering potential in every lifeform and knows how to alter them with a thought. With his power, he can do the same to Shouto by breaking his connection to the godflame.
His sword is in his hand immediately, the edge dark and ominous. Shouto has a split second to understand before Fumikage has crossed the distance between them.
"The godflame's protection is gone!"
Fumikage stops his blade inches away from Shouto's neck. "Explain."
"We changed it," Shouto explains placidly, unafraid of the blade. "The three of us changed everything. Dark and light and disparity are all mixed up now. There's no hard boundary."
"Then rebuild it."
"I'm not willing to lose you or Izuku," Shouto says, his voice cracking. "If I do that, if I push back all forms of darkness and disparity, then I'll lose you. If I rebuild the light barrier, then that means I have to send Izuku to the very depths of the abyss and I refuse that future."
Fumikage gnashes his teeth together because of fucking course Shouto would damn the world for Izuku. He's never met people who love each other as violently and cruelly as Shouto and Izuku. A part of him was glad that they were separated by Izuku going to prison. He'd hoped that it would break some of their co-dependency.
Now, though, he sees how futile that goal is. They're bound by something twisted and monstrous.
There is another flash of dark flames. A white knife falls into Shouto's hand. The same knife Fumikage gifted him a year ago.
"We three kings," Shouto says, naming the promise they made.
Fumikage closes his eyes. "We three kings."
He lets his blade fade away and return to his soul. Shouto smirks.
Just for that, Fumikage punches him. He watches Shouto fall, playing up his humanity for the sake of it. Fumikage rolls his eyes when Shouto hits the water.
With another gigantic step, he returns to the Imperial Villa.
The paperwork in his office seems to have bred with another stack, and now there are four where there'd been only one before. Banging his head against the desk seems an appropriate response for a few minutes. When that is done, he picks the first report.
Over the next few days, he learns how much Shouto just fucked geopolitics. The Imperial cells focused entirely on international events have been working overtime. The war between China and Russia has stuck mostly to border skirmishes, certainly terrible for the people who live there, but nuclear weapons haven't been suggested. Small mercies.
The abyssal incursions are only getting worse. Maya sends updates constantly. Small towns and villages across the globe burning to contain the spread of the infection. In Pakistan, they have to support a coup because members of the government are affiliated with a cult. In France, they barely deal with an army of the dead in the catacombs. It had only required one explosion that razed a few city blocks and started a wave of ensuing riots.
The state of the world weighs on him as he continues searching for information in the Imperial Archives. Why now? There are records of abyssal events occurring for the past two centuries, almost since the dawn of quirks. But not to this extent.
Fumikage buckles a bit at the sudden weight on his shoulders, unable to see with small hands covering his eyes. He sighs and settles the child more appropriately on his shoulders. Not that a fall will hurt the kid.
"Little Tanuki, how did you get in here?"
"Oh, come on, you didn't even see me." The hands vanish and Fumikage's vision is filled with red hair and bright green eyes. "And they didn't even ask me any questions."
"I should stop indulging your every whim."
"That'll be the day you use my name." His snout scrunches in frustration. "I have a name. Say it with me."
"Nope."
Fumikage lurches forward suddenly, throwing the child off his back. There is a whoop of delight that makes him smile. Just before he would hit the ground, Fumikage grabs the child by the ankle.
"You're skipping your lessons. Go on."
"But they're boring. Come play with us."
Fumikage rubs his forehead, matting down his feathers. "I'm busy."
The child's mouth presses to a thin line. "You've been busy for a year."
The chains in his soul rattle suddenly, dozens of them snapping all at once. He almost trips over and loses control because that's never happened. It feels like something in his soul has snapped off and died.
"Go," he says, straining to keep his composure. "I'll make time for you later."
Fumikage keeps calm as the child leaves, ignoring the worried glances he receives.
A hound manifests from a sharp angle of time, crystalline fur bristling. It hobbles towards him on three legs, dripping bright ichor from its missing leg with each step. This is the first time he's seen one so injured since the war and even then, they had turned to mist and returned to his soul to heal.
He listens to the story it tells, fists clenched so tight he almost breaks his knuckles. When it has finished speaking, Fumikage returns the hound to his soul. Then he walks to his rooms and wears his armour. A dark vest with armour plates running sideways on the front and black. Comfortable trousers with armour over the thighs and shin, tied by a thick belt with three pouches.
Finally, he takes his cloak. It is thick and heavy, white fur for a hood. One side is pitch black, the other a perfect white. For what he is to do, the white side is appropriate. He shrugs it over his shoulders, watching as the cloak reflects the light around him and wreathing him in a halo of light.
You are ready, Dark Shadow says. Go forth, my prince of crows.
With another gigantic step, Fumikage finds himself in the Amazon rainforest.
The hot air is thick with moisture and drenches his feathers but there is frost on the ground that crunches with each step he takes towards the small hamlet. The frost turns to ice structures that spread toward the river. It smells putrid and fetid, the water grey and lifeless.
Mist shrouds the docks of the fishing hamlet. He can't see more than a few metres in any directions. Only a gigantic hill in the distance is vaguely visible, a large smudge on the environment. Surrounded by the grey void, he should make an easy target.
He will never be prey.
The creatures, whatever they are, move silently across the ice. They circle him as he walks through the small building, making a show of checking them for any signs of habitation. Along the way, he finds his hounds. A dozen of them staked as warnings, ichor spewing from their wounds. He wonders what they must have thought in their final moments. Did they even have thoughts?
When he is in the centre of the hamlet, surrounded by all sides, they make their move.
Fumikage summons his knife. It weighs more than a great sword and leaves sparks of blue as he swings it.
His blade cuts cleanly through the creature's leathery neck, purple blood spurting in a disgusting arc. It stains his gloves and splatters on his goggles. Still, Fumikage finishes his stroke and decapitates the creature cleanly.
His blade glows blue, pale and hungry from that one kill.
There is power within him, the power to reshape the universe. He summons the tiniest bit of it and releases a blast of cleansing air. It disperses the mist and the influence of darkness in the area, allowing sunlight to pierce the grey void once more.
He stands in the warmth of the sun, his cloak reflecting its light and revealing his foes.
The humans are gone, changed by the power wrought forth this day. They resemble amphibians now, webbed feet and gills and chilling yellow eyes. They screech and charge forward.
Fumikage closes his heart and focuses on the mission. No matter how much his heart goes out to those who were transformed against their will, confused as their bodies were twisted, he must focus.
The crows will be enough to deal with them.
Fumikage leaves the fighting to them. They screech and tear through the twisted humans mercilessly, showing not a single ounce of hesitation. One gets past the crows and charges Fumikage.
He throws his knife. It flies true and embeds itself in the creature's skull. He continues.
The hill he saw isn't a hill. No hill should have seven fingers and ribbed growths. It is the cause of this infection.
"This realm does not belong to you," Fumikage intones deeply. "It will never be a safe harbour for your ilk."
The giant fingers flex and the ground shakes. It is thunderous and resounding. The mammoth effort of a giant awakening will not go unheard.
Fumikage will not give it that chance.
He summons his longsword and lets Dark Shadow surround him. The blade is dark and ominous, wrought from an infernal engine and shaped with the godflame. It balances light and dark on its edge. Perfect for Fumikage.
With a thought, energy rushes along the length of the blade. The edge turns bright and it's like holding a sun in his hand. He summons more and more energy, a dark fog coming out of the blade's etched patterns.
He swings and a beam of raw destruction surges forth. It eviscerates one of the larger fish-people and keeps going. It leaves a deep crack in the earth and vaporises the water it touches. The beam cuts through the giant's hand.
Gargantuan fingers tumble to the ground. Everything lurches on impact. Fumikage's teeth rattle from the impact but he takes a step toward it, covering the vast distance.
"Size is a weakness. It makes you slow and predictable."
The giant has barely risen. For all the destruction it would have caused if left unchecked, this thing is no threat to him.
Chains rise from the earth and wrap around the giant, bringing it down. The ground rumbles and the hamlet shatters from the localised earthquake.
His dragon manifests without prompting. It is just as large as the giant, scales gleaming magnificently in the sunlight. It roars once.
Then it raises its head. Fire coalesces in the back of its throat. When it opens its mouth, it is like a second sun manifesting. Endless waves of purple fire gush out, incinerating the dragon and setting the rainforest alight. Those flames burn through the infection in the water and the earth, cleansing the world of abyssal influence.
When it is done, the dragon fades away, leaving behind a blackened crater from its power. There is no way to hide this. The only option is to blame someone else.
He makes a call. She answers on the third ring.
"What's wrong?" Maya asks.
"This secret war of yours? This attempt to hide the abyss? It's going to fail."
She stays silent for a moment.
"Well fuck."
-TDB-
The sight of Tianjin burning keeps Shouto up at night with excitement. Every memory of those flames is a memory of his power, of his ability to change the world from the background. With the careful application of fire, he can very well change the world. Maybe he'll get better at starting wars without destroying cities?
Whilst their mission with the navy is technically complete, no one has been discharged. Something to do with waiting for possible retaliation. Which means he's stuck on a secret naval stealth ship in the middle of the ocean, bored out of his mind.
He makes a game evading the Admiral's attempts to have Shouto undergo a medical exam and quirk assessment. Flashing away in a burst of flames always leaves people surprised. The admiral wizens up after a week and leaves Shouto alone.
Momo, however, is anything but bored. Unfortunately, it directly affects Shouto since they're sharing the same room.
The stack of books has only gotten bigger, taking up every surface. Shouto has to carefully navigate his way around the stacks if he ever wants to reach his bed. Which has books on it as well. Momo has graciously given him a tiny space to sleep.
"Molecular biochemistry," he reads. "Why are you reading this?"
Momo glances at him then returns to her book, the cover blocked from sight.
"Because I like learning."
Not the whole truth. "Why that subject?"
"You're not going to let this go." He shakes his head. "I liked it when you were quiet all the time. My parents want to purchase some biotech firms. I have to do all the background research and give them options by the time I get back."
"But why?"
Pink splotches appear on her face. "Because it was the first thing I said when they asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I wasn't even paying attention but now I'm getting a biotech company for my eighteenth birthday."
That makes more sense. He knows how wealthy the Yaoyorozu family is. Momo's the only person he knows who could probably bankroll a company from the ground up and still have money left over for a new business venture.
"Did you ever see Fumikage's dragon?" he asks, deciding against embarrassing her further.
"Dragon?" she asks quickly, eyes bright and energetic. "Those arms from the Sports Festival?"
"There isn't much difference between you and it."
She glares. "My mothers the cold-blooded reptile, not me."
"Metaphysically, you're pretty close. Your soul is made from pure godflame just like most dragons. There isn't a hint of darkness or disparity to you." In his right eye, he can see the structure of her soul brimming with potential. "Your souls are more static and orderly, but if I swapped them around, there wouldn't be much of a change."
"If you compare me to a reptile again, I'll slap you." Her tone is lighter than her words imply.
A few days later, there is an accident with one of the giant heat sinks. Shouto is napping when it happens so he misses Endeavour dealing with it by directing the heat straight to the ocean. Instead of a big chunk of the ship exploding, only a few crewmen had suffered injuries. By the time Shouto woke up from his nap, seven were in intensive surgery.
The alarms and constant movement keep him up so Shouto decides to deal with it himself. He rolls out of bed and shambles in one direction hoping for the best. He must look a sorry sight, barefoot and in boxers, but if anyone has any words, they choose silence today.
The medical wing is filled with people scurrying around, trying their best to coordinate supplies and treatments for the injured. A nurse stops the moment she sees Shouto, nearly dropping her stethoscope.
"You can't be—"
Frost spreads across the ground, freezing everyone in place. He walks past the screams and protests until he reaches the first patient, a middle-aged woman with extensive third-degree burns.
It takes Shouto twelve minutes to heal her, though much of that is spent waking up fully. The next five take a few minutes each. The last, a boy no older than Shouto, is blind from his burns and much of his arms blackened by heat. He's mumbling in his sleep, terrified even there.
Shouto takes his time healing the boy, ensuring that nothing goes wrong. He holds the young sailor's hand the entire time. He isn't totally heartless.
After the boy is healed—and maybe laced with a few genetic markers for rampant mutation down the line—Shouto takes his leave. It is the sight of a dozen nurses, field medics and naval doctors all staring at him in awe that freezes him in place.
"What?" he asks. Last time he checked, healing people wasn't a bad thing.
Then he's swarmed with one too many questions being asked. Shouto can't keep track of it all. The dizziness hits him quickly and he learns that he doesn't do well with crowds. Whatever self-control he has vanishes when a dozen different people are so close to him. It leaves him nothing more than a stammering youth, humbling given how easily he had saved seven humans.
The Admiral, alerted to the commotion, saves him.
"I expect this behaviour from my godchildren," he snaps. "Back to your posts."
"Sir, yes sir," they respond in unison.
"Don't let them take advantage of you," the admiral says once they have left the room.
"Same way you don't?"
"The difference is that I pay you."
"I get paid?"
The admiral's laughter is the last he hears of the man for a few days. Things are quiet. Shouto spends most of it napping though some days he explores the bowels of the ship. One time, he finds a tiny shrine. The incense sticks are held in a cup decorated with snowflakes.
Shouto smiles bright and clear having discovered a shrine to him. What god doesn't want to be worshipped and loved?
He spends the rest of the day making a few shapes out of weird metamaterials. They're all pretty boring shapes even if the materials themselves are incredibly rare. Night comes quicker than he anticipates. He debates the merits of sleeping in a comfortable bed before deciding that the weather is warm enough to sleep outside.
"You'll catch a cold."
"Physically impossible."
Momo joins him, lying on the deck just like him. She's facing the opposite direction, so only their heads are near each other. The sky is clear and the stars bright and vibrant.
Shouto points at one of the stars.
"Rigel in Orion," he says softly. "There are no aliens there. Not anymore."
Momo takes the revelation of aliens calmly. "What happened to them?"
He casts his gaze to the distant past and sees what once was. "Nothing special. It was a dozen different little things that eventually killed them. Things die and that can't be avoided."
"Even you?"
"Maybe." He reaches out to grasp the stars. "I want to go there. I want to see them for myself."
"Can't you?"
"Me. Shouto. Not the god. Just me."
They watch the stars together, lulled to comfort by the ocean. He stares at stars, listening to the song they weave across the tapestry of the universe. Stars do not have feelings like humans do, but they find grace in observing the bodies orbiting them and purpose in the giant barrier they maintain against the darkness.
Maybe one day he'll take the time to walk amongst them and speak to the stars. He's certain they have an interesting story to tell.
Momo sits up suddenly, startling Shouto. Shouto sits up as well, watching her curiously. There's something intense in her gaze.
"I have something interesting to show you."
It is a test tube filled with a murky green liquid and a thicker film on top. It looks like a sample of contaminated water about to be sent for testing.
"This has what to do with me?"
"Look at it."
He slips past the mortal bounds of his sight and peers closer at the water, zooming in till he can see the water on a cellular structure. The green film is a simple organism with cell walls. A plant of some sort.
"Algae?" He gets a nod. "But there's none near this part of the ocean."
Momo grins. "Unless you make it."
"Unless you..." His eyes widen slightly, genuinely surprised. "How?"
"When you showed me the beginnings of everything, it kinda just fell into place. I don't know why I thought I couldn't do organic material." There's a spark of light then some device appears in her hand. "Do you know how complicated the circuitry is in a tracking device is? And all the other components as well. The human mind can't visualise it all."
"Your quirk was doing the heavy lifting."
"And now that I know what it really is, it's become a lot easier. Non-organics will always be a lot easier—I could probably make a smartphone if I spent a few weeks researching—but I can also make life."
He smiles, genuinely happy. It probably looks hideous and uncomfortable, but it's something honest.
"Simple, unintelligent life," he mocks but there is no malice to it.
"Still smarter than you."
She helps him up and together they return to their cabin. He sees Endeavour speaking to the admiral. It doesn't look like either man is enjoying the conversation. After nearly tripping on a stack of books, he stumbles onto his bed. His pillow has been replaced by thick textbooks but he makes the best of it.
Momo sits beside him, somehow finding a spot in the mess of books. Her weight makes the bunk dip but he's more interested in how she trusts him so much. Even after everything, she's willing to speak to him. To sit near him and treat him like a person.
"Why couldn't you use electronic books?" He frowns. "How did you even get them on a secret naval stealth ship?"
She grins. "I'm rich."
"That… yeah, that makes sense."
"This has been bothering me for a while."
"Hm?"
"Shouldn't you hate him because of his nature? Izuku, that is."
He considers that for a moment. "Perhaps. But it's more complicated than that."
"Because you love him?"
Shouto winces. He doesn't like that term much anymore. It's too simple and assumes too much.
"Everyone keeps on saying that. I never did."
"We're on a secret naval stealth vessel and we just started a war between Russia and China. You revealed the Imperial Family faked the death of someone who sunk Taiwan." She turns her head and they're so close, barely anything separating them, that it's dizzying staring into her eyes. "You've told me the secrets of creation and you can't tell me that?"
In the face of all that, his hesitance seems a bit pathetic.
"I miss him so damned much," Shouto admits. "I also hate him. Maybe it's because darkness and light are opposites forever drawn to each other."
"Oh, please, he showed you the tiniest shred of attention and you followed him like a lost puppy."
"I think destroying a stadium is a bit more than a shred of attention."
The corner of her mouth quirks upward. "For Midoriya, that's him getting to know you. He sees broken people and takes them in, gives them a home and tames them whether they like it or not. Bakugou when they were kids and then everyone else."
"That includes you?"
"I'm not broken. Maybe that's why we've never really talked."
"Never?"
"Never."
-TDB-
Inko Midoriya ducks beneath a line of police tape and walks towards UA.
UA is a ghost town, even from a distance. The pristine nature of the building is gone, replaced by the devastation of war. The fire that killed Aizawa wasn't put out quickly enough, leaving behind a blackened husk right in the middle of the central building. Windows are shattered and the glass is strewn around.
The teachers who hadn't fled during the middle of the war are currently detained. Some like Hound Dog and Cementoss are merely facing having their credentials removed whilst Power Loader, who actively took part in scrubbing records and destroying digital evidence, are facing prison time. Inko hates that Nezu escaped alongside Snipe, Midnight and Present Mic. Perhaps they died, which she sincerely hopes for. Regardless, Inko won her war.
UA will never exist again. Every treaty and agreement they made will never be honoured again.
This is something that Inko Midoriya, a simple housewife, has done. Not by herself, but she set it into motion.
Unfortunately, it is entirely overshadowed by Tianjin burning. She refuses to let herself be weighed down by those deaths. They would have shown no mercy towards her country. As far as she is concerned, this is entirely justified.
She won't even let the giant spider resting beside her ruin her mood. Those bulbous eyes watch her and her actions, have tracked her during her trek. Apparently, it is invisible to normal humans, but those that had looked at the weird patch of air wound up with headaches and nosebleeds.
/Mother, mother, shadowking mother, we come to arbitrate for the last time. Let there be peace between shadow and spiderkin/
"Oh, fuck off."
/Unto you, we shall give all tribute. The genocide of the shadowking shall be forgotten. Accept this peace/
"My son wouldn't commit genocide. So, get the hell out of here."
/A thousand million spiderkin the shadowking has slain. Peace we offer this final time/
She faces the spider. It towers over her, legs furry and sometimes disappearing in higher dimensions.
"Is that a threat?" She crosses her arms. "I've put up with your presence but I will not put up with your threats."
/A favour is a bargain owed, great mother. We come to collect. Arbitrate peace between spiderkin and shadow. Or the war must begin again/
It takes little effort to cast her powers towards the gate. Lesser still to remove the bolts silently and raise it above their housing.
Her lips curl. "I hate being threatened."
It doesn't get to say anything more before the gate slams into it at high-speed. It emits a blood-curdling screech as it is smashed against a wall, dozens of legs curling around the grates of the gate. Orange ichor flies everywhere, splattering the wall and ground with the giant spider's lifeblood.
Inko wipes town her skirt and walks towards the heap of spider and metal. Its legs still twitch, but the red core at its centre is exposed and cracked.
She stares at the spider as it dies, though death and the abyss behave strangely. Death may very well be the next evolutionary step for it.
"My name is Inko Midoriya and I don't take kindly to threats against me. Against my son. Scurry away and never return to the light."
It fades away slowly, vanishing from the real world and slipping towards the abyss through unknown paths.
That done, Inko heads towards the grocery store. Kouta had shyly asked for castella and she absolutely refuses to disappoint the boy. He might be a rude shit towards everyone else, but he's never been impolite to Inko. Admittedly, he's probably terrified after seeing her cow Hisashi or someone else into submission.
Dinner with Kouta is a quiet affair. Without Hisashi and Izuku, their home has been much quieter. Hisashi had been wrong in assuming Kouta wouldn't notice if the crying at night after he left is anything to go by. The boy has stabilised slightly, but there's a nervousness whenever he looks at Inko as though he's afraid she will leave as well.
The TV is muted but occasionally Inko focuses on it. Something about a few towns in America that have been destroyed, burnt to the ground with only a crater left. More still about a massive tract of forest burnt down in South America as well.
"He's leaving there soon, right?" Kouta asks around a mouthful of castella.
Inko smiles, knowing he's speaking of Izuku's final hearing. "Yeah. You just have to wait a bit longer to punch him in the crotch again."
Kouta flushes, ducking his head. "I only did that once."
"Don't mumble, it's rude."
They talk of nothing important a while longer. Kouta tells her about his day at school, grumbling a bunch about the teachers treating him unfairly.
"Which teachers?" she asks quickly, already thinking of how to make their lives difficult. The moment Izuku invited Kouta into their lives he received every ounce of Inko's protection.
Kouta drops his fork. "No, you're going to embarrass me if I tell you. It's nothing important anyway."
"Really now?"
"Just got into a shouting match with this girl, Eri, and the teachers didn't like it. From the way they weren't saying anything, sounds pretty messed up." Kouta shrugs. "We've all got stories like that, now. No reason to treat her differently. That'll just make her feel alone."
She sets her fork down, observing the boy. He's got that stupid cap on and has the same arrogant tilt to his shoulders, but beneath that and the youthful vulnerability, there's a river of something she hadn't noticed. Empathy.
"You know, for someone with a predisposition to cursing and punching people in the balls—"
"—Once—"
"You can be quite sweet."
He sticks his tongue out at her. She just smiles back, realising right then and there that she does love Kouta. Maybe this is what adoption feels like. A child doesn't have to be of your own blood to be someone you love.
Kouta helps her with the dishes, drying them once she is done washing them. Hisashi would have complained and suggested Kouta have fun, which contributes to him not having any say in the decision-making process of her household, and Izuku would have just taken over and cleaned their home in a frenetic storm.
"I don't know why they can't see Izuku is a good person."
She inspects a glass. Finds a smudge. Cleans it again.
"It's complicated."
"Don't treat me like a child."
"You are a child and it is a complicated matter. It's not just that Izuku defended that child. That's not important. It's a matter of power and perception. The world knows he has power, but too many think he's a would-be conqueror or another villain."
"But his followers—"
"Are part of the problem. They're people with quirks refusing government authority and getting into fights." She rinses another glass. "At least people knew how to deal with villains and vigilantes. They don't know if these guys follow the same rules."
"They'll listen to Izuku."
She smiles. "Yes, they will. Even if he has to beat them down."
It takes every bit of conniving she has to get Kouta to sleep at a reasonable time. Hot cocoa and a promise to take him shopping over the weekend finally seal the deal just before eleven. He'll be tired and groggy all morning.
Later, with only a week bearing down before Izuku's final hearing, Inko finds herself with Mitsuki Bakugou, her only friend it seems like. They're watching the news. Every day for the last week and every day for the week to come will only show something relating to Izuku's trial. Whether it's the Sports Festival or the war, his time in Hokkaido or protecting that little boy, or something else entirely.
The funniest had been Izuku winning a Nobel in prison, regardless that he hadn't been able to accept it. Her son, ridiculous and hilarious, had declined it with a heartfelt speech. His refusal had been noted and rejected. Given the odd circumstances, it's still waiting for him to formally take it for his contributions to the field of physics.
"Are you nervous about the trial?" Mitsuki asks.
"Of course, I am," Inko says honestly, her amusement vanishing. "I don't know if they're going to see a boy who was kidnapped or a villain in the making."
Her friend nods sagely, looking ridiculous. "Katsuki isn't taking it well. In his own way, Izuku is the person he looks up to most."
Inko raises a brow. Much of her anger is gone but there will always be bitterness at what Katsuki did to her son.
"Really now?"
"I never said it was healthy but Izuku's always been the only person who defied him. Someone without a quirk always stood his ground against Katsuki. It was like his strength never mattered, because no matter how much he had, Izuku would still be ahead of him."
"That doesn't—"
"Justify what he did? No, it doesn't. But kids aren't like us. They aren't old and set in their ways like us. I mean, he's been picking fights for the last few months. But he's also been talking even if every third word is a curse. He's trying to figure out who he should be because he sees Izuku has chosen a path. And Katsuki wants to match that and finally stand on the pedestal he put Izuku on years ago."
"I still find that hard to believe."
"So did I at first. But he hasn't been home in months. He's trying to keep the peace in his own way." Mitsuki takes a long sip. "He admired All Might. And the only way he knew how to deal with that was by dethroning him. He's gone now, but Izuku's there. Izuku whose always been stronger and is now so far ahead that Katsuki has no chance of catching up."
Inko knows Katsuki never will catch up to her son. Izuku is someone so far removed from the ordinary that a normal human will never catch up to him. No human will ever match a god.
"It's sad that despite everything, Katsuki basically became me. I never could keep up with you, Inko. You were always better. A better boxer. A better wife. A better person. It might be cruel, but when Hisashi left, I thought maybe I might have something I wasn't trailing behind in. But no, you wound up being a better mother."
"I'm sorry," Inko says, her heart breaking. "I never knew how cruel I was."
"It's not your fault you're a good person." Mitsuki raises her drink in a toast. "To sons."
"To sons," Inko agrees. "And to being better people."
Maybe, just maybe, if she holds that idea close, then things will be better. In a world without UA, in a world where Izuku is strong, maybe she won't have to be strong and hard and threatening.
Maybe, in this brave new world, Inko Midoriya can relearn what it means to be kind.
-TDB-
The world is changing. Creation itself has entered a new stage. This is what it means to be alive in the opening hours of that change.
This is what it means to be Tinashe Mpisaunga watching as something abominable consumes your parents. It has too many arms, though they shift and fade between realities. Claws like unending nightmares tear through the flesh of your younger sister. Its fourth mouth chews your father's arm off almost delighting in the agony they feel. You would run, but the creature has taken a perverse interest in forcing you to watch. When it is your turn, you shed tears of joy because the pain is to end.
This is what it means to be Ademi, the warper of Madagascar. Your body burns from the inside out. Warp portals open and close uncontrollably, your flesh ripping and popping and reforming. You scream and scream but no one can ever hear you. And then you stop, interrupted by the crystal erupting from your chest. You die alone, impaled on a glowing crystal overlooking the ocean. It will be a beautiful site for whatever grows from your corpse.
This is what it means to be Kohei of the Horikoshi Cult. You have lost followers to the bastard crow but it does not matter. That was the final sacrifice ground. After centuries of work started by your predecessors, a network of blood connects the earth. Soon, it will be time to summon the true lords, all that remains is one final sacrifice. With their strength, you can displace the false kings. Soon, your subtle knife will cut through the barriers between the earth and the darkest depths of the abyss. Oh, how you long to hear the sweet song of your gods.
The world is changing. Soon, there will be no more secrets.