'I am not human though I believe you know this truth, or at least, understand it in a fashion. Fire and dark and disparity have tainted my soul, reworked it with indifferent hands for a plan so simple and yet so monstrous. I hope you forgive me. Perhaps you won't. Perhaps this is a mistake, and no one will hear my words. But if you do read these last words, remember, that to be human is to be powerless. To be human is to be a plaything for the gods. If you have the opportunity, flee where I could not. If you still have a choice, take your own life as I will. And if you find yourself controlled and helpless, accept your fate and bow your head.'
—The Final Letter from a Renegade as translated by the World Walker.
Hisashi Midoriya is lost in a land beyond time with only a skeleton for company. A talking skeleton. One that had been a person a few minutes ago. Though what do minutes mean in a place where eternity passes every so often.
"I'm listening. Now tell me your story. Tell me the first secret."
The skeleton sits on no-space, his legs dangling off an edge that doesn't exist. Hisashi stands right next to him, and if the laws of creation held, he should be falling. But no, in this land that couldn't-shouldn't-wouldn't exist, such concepts are irrelevant.
"My name is lost to memory, but I remember that I was Master of the Railroad. Unintentional though it was, it was I who forged the first paths between godflame and dark through the road of disparity."
"I thought you might be some living memory of the man," Hisashi says to the skeleton. "But you're something different."
The endless no-space shifts and morphs. Where before there was an absence of everything, of light and darkness and nothingness, now there is a forest. It floats in the air, drifting calmly across the realms of Disparity. There, in the distance, he sees giants walking towards a pilgrimage. Below, an eye the size of a continent. Nearby, dragon flying calmly.
He knows this place and this forest. This is the home of Dark Shadow, whole and hale. It isn't an endless pyre as it should be.
The vision zooms into a copse of saplings, the oldest of the trees. In the very centre, the eldest tree, nothing more than a seed at this point, is being reborn. Dark threads erupt from the seed, reaching unerringly towards the cauldron of godflame in the centre.
Just before it can touch it and create something new, the sky above breaks apart. A massive crow reaches through with a human's hand and picks up the newborn Dark Shadow, stealing it from the copse.
"I witnessed a babe reach out past the barriers and enslave an elder tree. It was I who acknowledged him as slaveking and accepted his oaths heard as the wailings of a newborn babe."
Things shift once more and they're on a beach somewhere in Japan. No, Hisashi knows this beach intimately. It's in Mustafu, close to their home. This beach was where he took Izuku as a child, back when he and Inko were happily married. He taught Izuku to swim in calm waters. When he couldn't be consoled by human means, the water always set Izuku at peace.
It makes his heart clench. This beach was where they made their happiest memories as a family. He wonders if Izuku remembers playing in the water with him and Inko. Perhaps not.
"It was I who joined a human corpse to the foundation of darkness and the lines of tribute."
Hisashi watches his son die for the first time. It is a fridge that does him in, ignoble and pathetic. It makes Hisashi sick to witness. His son dies alone and afraid with no one to save him.
His son's soul somehow touches the darkness, finding a connection to the lines of tribute from ruinous throne worlds deep in the abyss. A simple human soul touches this foundation of darkness and reshapes it, drawing strength and power from that death.
In the real world, a creature that must never be seen rises from his son's corpse. It destroys the fridge as retribution before settling beneath his son's skin, finding a home in the infernal engine at the base of his son's spine.
"He was born to a father who wields godflame, but the connection to the abyss was there to be used, birthed by the murder of a sibling and an unintentional act of sword logic."
Hisashi feels his gorge rise and can't hold it back, puking to the side. His hands tremble as he thinks on the matter because Mikumo was not murdered. Certainly not by Izuku.
"That's not possible," Hisashi roars. "He'd never hurt his brother. Especially not as a baby."
"I warned him the dangers of his path," the skeleton says, indifferent to Hisashi, "and yet he still walked towards his throne. The contract was sealed by the third death and can never be undone. The body of the shadowking is the very foundation of the abyss, endless and eternal. The contract gave that human soul dominion over true dark and the shadows cast by fire."
Things shift once more, and they find themselves back in the forest. The cauldron of godflame roars, black flames threatening to spill out and incinerate everything. A boy no older than fifteen sits before it, communing with the first spark of light.
Shouto Todoroki, son of Endeavour, speaks directly to the godflame. And it listens. A force that gave rise to time and gravity and entropy listens to a boy. A force that is one-third of all reality stops and listens to a child.
"The last was the most interesting. Hellfire was something outside all three domains, something different and new, borne in the far futures that will now never be. It was borne from the final ending and the first beginning, outside the grasp of godflame. It was simple enough to weld it to the framework of godflame for the infernal fire always sought to be unified with all flame."
He listens to Shouto Todoroki broker a deal with the godflame, uncaring that he is doing the impossible. A child is convincing reality of his right to rule. A child is making a deal with something that shouldn't even notice him. Against all logic, the godflame accepts Shouto's words.
"It was love, purely human and insignificant love, that changed the eternal and unchanging. It was I who translated the words of the godflame for that boy to understand as he ascended, the heart of the godflame and wielder of its sight."
Shouto Todoroki ascends, his hellfire now godfire. He rises above the forest, surveying the universe at his fingertips. As his first act, he commits genocide on a forest of sentient trees. Trees that did nothing but help him.
It all fades away, the visions of kings rising above mortality passing away like mist at the dawn. The no-space returns, leaving Hisashi alone once more with a skeleton.
"You were the weak point," Hisashi says almost reverently. "You became the conduit. But why? Why did any of this have to happen? If it was preordained, then they're not really gods."
For the first time, the skeleton looks up at Hisashi. Those empty eye sockets are disconcerting because even though they are empty, Hisashi can see the eldritch knowledge within them.
"My duty is done," the skeleton says. "I am dead and gone. My life is ended and my role rendered obsolete. I am merely a recording of a man driven to insanity by the truth. Hear these words well. This would always happen. For a god to exist, they must always have existed and they will always exist. The three of them were gods before they were born. The past is the present is the future, a perfect loop with no breaks. Time exists because they willed it. Their mortal forms exist for they wished for them. They wished to be able to articulate change and thus the nature of reality became intertwined."
"Why them? Why not someone else. Why not any other reality?"
"All others are simply fractal designs of the godflame, endless iterations of the same events, played a million million times in each possible configuration. This iteration is the true iteration, the one chosen by the gods to hold their mortal vessels, but their mortal vessels chose the nature of their power. It is the beginning and end and middle without break or joint. The gods wished to exist so dark and light and disparity were born. But these forces wished to be observed and thus they found form in the gods to be who have always been that shall always be."
"That makes no sense. You're saying it was preordained and random at the same time? That this was an act of fate for those who make fate?"
The skeleton rises silently. It faces Hisashi, observing him intently.
"It does not matter," the skeleton says. "All our actions are in service to them. We are theirs to be toyed with. They will not care."
It removes the conductor's hat on its head and extends it towards Hisashi. They may be there for minutes or hours or years, but nothing happens until Hisashi takes it.
Then the skeleton collapses. Its bones fade to dust and are carried away by a wind that does not exist and can never exist in this no-space.
Once more, reality shifts and warps. The no-space collapses in on itself, the endless expanse devoid of nothingness shattering to a million million pieces. Hisashi feels himself dragged away and thrust to a different location, thousands of layers of the abyss passing before he can even process what is happening.
Then he finds himself on Master Railroad's train in the conductor's cabin. In the far distance, a shower of lightning heralds his arrival in the past.
Hisashi observes himself from over a year ago, uncertain of what to do next. Not that he has a choice. He can feel the universe itself pushing him towards what must be done for it must always be done.
"The past is the present is the future." He lays the hat on the chair. "Good luck. Being a good father is harder than you can imagine."
The universe pulls him away and sends him to his own time.
-TDB-
Izuku Midoriya enters a courtroom for what will hopefully be the last time.
The court proceedings have gone on for weeks longer than they should have. The fervour and uncertainty surrounding China had distracted everyone. Worse still are the shots being fired by Russian and Chinese quirk regiments. Thankfully, no one is suggesting nuclear weapons. An international task force has been dispatched to the region to observe the situation and provide humanitarian aid to the civilians caught in the crossfire.
It is one of many task forces across the world. America has one investigating the towns burnt down recently. Three in total are observing VIVA territories and trying to bring the villains to a negotiating table with the American and Canadian governments. Which would be possible if there weren't strong secessionist movements occurring across both countries at the same time.
Something is going on deep in the Amazon. The fires affecting it have come too early and they're concentrated in certain areas. Odd events are happening in Africa and Europe, weather events that shouldn't be possible: a torrential rain in the desert; freshwater lakes suddenly becoming acidic overnight; long-dormant volcanoes showing signs of eruption.
What was it that you told Fumikage? Mikumo asks. When the void infects the real world, the only option is to burn it away. You three changed the order of things. Is It truly so absurd to think the abyss has bled into the real?
"I don't want a world like that," Izuku mumbles as they all stand for the judge's entrance.
He knows Kouta and his mother are in the room watching anxiously. Hisashi's absence isn't surprising after all the years he spent absent. None of his classmates is here but the room is filled with important people: the Yaoyorozu family who funded much of his legal team; Endeavour and Mirko who fought in the war; Tamaki Amajiki, last of the Big Three and a witness who was there at the beginning and supposedly distinguished himself during the following months; Admirals and Generals from the Joint Chiefs.
The judge is an ageing woman, her hair white but her eyes sharp. She hasn't had any interest in theatrics and ejected people from her courtroom repeatedly until people got the idea that she would not entertain nonsense.
"This court stands ready to pass judgement on the criminal case of Izuku Midoriya. The crimes currently stand at one count of quirk-related murder and one count of police defiance. Step forward." Her voice is clear and confident.
Izuku takes a deep breath and approaches the high table. He loathes the idea that this one woman holds the power to delegitimise his entire cause before it gets off the ground. What right does she have to judge him when she works within a corrupt system?
Still, he lets none of his contempt show. He'll play by their game and win by their rules.
"You have readily acknowledged your hand in the villain Muscular's demise. Your testimony agrees with the coroner's report. As an S-rank villain, this would be fully accepted as an act of self-defence. However, the investigation shows that this ranking was given after the fact. You killed him without authorisation as a hero and utilised your quirk to do so. Do you acknowledge this as true?"
He nods. "Yes."
"Under any other circumstance, this would constitute quirk-related murder. However, the nature of a full villain attack and the character testimonies of your classmates has given context to your act. Izuku Midoriya, you are found not guilty of quirk-related murder against the villain Muscular."
He doesn't react to that. There is still more to come. No one is surprised by the decision. Muscular was a villain with a known body count.
"This court finds your actions in resisting arrest to have been reckless and foolish, easily capable of harming civilians in the area. However, the court acknowledges the reasons for your actions. In conjunction with the ten months you have spent incarcerated as a model inmate, this court believes you have served an adequate sentence."
Izuku almost wants to laugh. He broke more bones in prison than he ever did experimenting with One For All. The only difference is that he had broken other people's bones.
There are murmurs in the room, some surprised by the leniency of the decision and some sounding angry. Angry for what, Izuku can't tell.
"In light of the ongoing class-action suit of Tartarus Inmates v. the State, your incarceration will be stricken from records pending a final decision from the Supreme court. Should the State be found guilty of illegal incarceration, you will be compensated for your time in Tartarus.
"Finally, an investigation into your possession of three quirks will begin three months henceforth. This tribunal will determine the legality of your possession of One For All, and how you received your wind quirk. Do you have any final words?"
Izuku exhales. He had known that investigation would occur but in the grand scheme of things, it won't matter. He plans on drowning the legal system by attacking everything from top to bottom. The current constitution was extensively modified by a government that held onto power using emergency time authority. He will see it, and the punitive anti-quirk laws, dismantled and overturned.
"I am glad that the Supreme Court has found my actions legal and legitimate in these trying times. It is an honour to know that the law can still find justice and uphold human compassion."
He bows before the high table and wonders if this is what the world saw when kings were crowned by archbishops. It might as well be the same thing. By letting him go free, they've set in motion something that cannot be controlled. Izuku Midoriya is lightning and they've just unleashed him into the public domain.
His eyes sweep across his enemies, the military and navy. Their expressions run the gamut from frustration to explicit anger. He smirks at them. They all know what's just happened. Undoubtedly, they're all making plans to threaten him or stymie his influence.
A guard leads him to a private room once the judge has left
Don't be arrogant, Mikumo warns. They'll go after our family first.
Izuku raises a brow. "Our?"
Yes. You won't be rid of me so easily.
The door opens before Izuku can respond. In rushes Kouta like a bullet. Izuku catches him easily.
"Hey. I told you I'd be fine." Izuku smiles at Kouta. "Just in time for your eighth birthday."
"But they're going to investigate you."
Izuku sets Kouta down and offers his mother a smile. She's watching from the doorway, her expression odd. There's happiness there, but also… sorrow? Grief? Regret? One of those.
"And they'll find me innocent. I've done nothing illegal in their own words. Well, they have to decide how legal my quirks are."
"They shouldn't be allowed to. Quirks belong to us."
"They're not technically protected by any laws in Japan." Izuku kneels, setting him down. "They wouldn't usually do this but they don't see it as a simple matter of bodily integrity. 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 will take more time than I wanted, but I'm willing to try."
"You'll have to tell his story," Kouta snarls. "You've already fucking said enough about him."
"Kouta," his mother reprimands sharply.
The boy winces and ducks his head. "Sorry."
"I wish I didn't have to tell his story. Sometimes the dead should be allowed to be forgotten." He hugs the kid. "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 friends from me. I know the pain better than you."
His mother steps forward, laying a hand on Kouta's shoulder. "Izuku, don't make this a contest of your grief."
Izuku nods. "I'm sorry, Kouta. Do you remember when I told you the story of Hero? Back when he had us."
"Yeah."
"Did you like it?"
"Yeah."
"He's the one who told it to me." Kouta flinches back but Izuku is undeterred. "In a roundabout way, he showed you kindness. You can learn a lesson from your enemies and even villains can be compassionate. It was a hard lesson to learn and maybe it wasn't the right lesson, but I think it's why I can forgive people so easily."
Kouta steps away from Izuku, his expression furious. "He took everyone I loved from me."
"I'm here. I promise I'm not going anywhere. No matter what."
The anger leaves Kouta. He deflates, wiping at his tears. "You better keep that promise."
Izuku extends his pinkie finger. Like they did so long ago, they seal a promise that will last till the end of the universe.
"Let's go home," Inko says to the silence.
They leave the courtroom confidently. Izuku has a grin on his face.
It almost fades at the crowd of people outside. The press is easy enough to recognise, but so many people are carrying signs supporting him whilst just as many are denouncing him. The police presence down the middle is keeping the two groups from one another but only barely.
A roar erupts from the crowd when the notice him. There are questions and accusations and even a few 'I love you' being thrown around.
He steps in front of Kouta without thought, shielding the boy from sight and harm.
"Say something!" someone roars above the crowd, voice so loud it causes a collective wince throughout the crowd.
Blessed silence reigns. The shock between noise and quiet is disconcerting, but now he can hear himself think.
Speak to them. You owe them that much.
Sound is nothing more than the vibration of the air. With a thought, his second heart comes to life and beats once more. Instinct guides his actions as he suppresses the vibration of air molecules from the crowd and amplifies the ones from him.
It would be impossible if he couldn't sense each air current and disturbance as well as he could sense shadows. But he feels the air for miles upon miles, and though his sensitivity might degrade, the sky itself bows to his commands.
"I would like to thank all of you, critics and allies alike, for being here today," he says strongly, his words carried to the crowd and past them into the streets and buildings. "It was your continued presence that gave me the strength to walk forward. I never had a shred of doubt that I'd walk free, but your support is still appreciated. Now, are there any questions?"
Immediately, everyone shouts. Or at least, they try to. Then they realise that their words are nothing more than whispers. Horror and awe are common expressions right now.
"One at a time please." Izuku points to a younger lady. With a thought, he removes the limitations of her words and instead amplifies them.
"What did you just do?"
Izuku almost rolls his eyes. "Manipulate the wind. Next."
"Do you think anyone will believe you didn't coerce the judge to find you guilty of your crimes?"
"Yes, I resisted police arrest but the circumstances justified it. I refused to let another child be labelled a villain and forgotten by the system. I ask you to look around and tell me this society works. Tell me that this is the pinnacle we can reach. If you say it is, then I want to know who told you to stop dreaming for a better future. So long as we try, our future is bright." He smiles gently. "I cannot claim to know the mind of the judge, but I sincerely believe she upholds the law as best she can."
He points at a news anchor.
"You betrayed All Might and—"
He glares imperiously at the reporter, the force of it strong enough to force him silent.
"Did you know Toshinori? All you knew was the legend you made of him. You didn't know the man he was. He looked around daily at the corruption and knew it had to end. But it couldn't until All For One was dead. He gave his life so that you, so that I, so that all of us, have a chance for a better future."
He allows another question.
"How did you get that wind quirk?"
"In his final moments, the greatest villain of this era saw that his methods had been wrong. His ideals and motivations had been broken. He chose to accept his death with dignity. He gave it to me because I was the closest person there. Nothing less."
And then he walks forward, indifferent to their attempts to question him any further. Kouta follows closely in Izuku's wake whilst his mother is utterly undaunted by the sea of humanity.
Together, they return to their home victorious.
-TDB-
Katsuki Bakugou is angry, not that anyone is surprised by that anymore. But that anger runs cold and bitter, tempered by loss and the struggle of finding a new identity in a different world.
He wonders if this is how old people feel. You live your life doing things a certain way, and then something happens and everything you've ever known changes. What does it mean to be a hero or a vigilante now? What does it mean to rebuild when villain-owned corporations—and hadn't that been a fucking delightful surprise to learn—are the ones rebuilding the most.
Katsuki from a year ago would have said that the Katsuki now is a vigilante for fighting without a license. Katsuki from a year ago isn't the same Katsuki that's known by communities in Shikoku who treat him fondly, grandmothers who offer him snacks and fathers who never rat him out when he loses a fight and needs to heal. Katsuki from a year ago wouldn't have the charisma or force of will to bring together a motley crew of people with similar ideals and he certainly wouldn't have known how to treat them well.
Yes, he treats Shindo like a conniving shit but that's because he is one. There's no malice there. Just honesty.
"I'm not fucking bailing you out if you get in trouble."
Katsuki has assigned them the simple job of eliminating a quirk group smuggling weapons. It can go wrong so many ways. Last they tangled with the group, Makabe had taken a bullet to the arm.
Shindo, deep in conversation with Intelli, gives him the middle finger. "Just go to your bullshit reunion with your murderous friends."
He's tempted to jump over and strangle the bastard. But that's what he's expecting, so Katsuki reigns in his temper.
A world where Katsuki Bakugou isn't outwardly angry is one that would give anyone pause. It certainly makes both Shindo and Intelli go wide-eyed.
"Don't be a fucking arrogant prick," Katsuki says with a level of calm he doesn't feel. "I chose you as my second for a reason."
He glares at Shindo, cold and hard. He might not like Shindo but he's strong and cunning. Not as lethal as Katsuki or as smart as Intelli, but he's got a knack for putting people in the right place for their skills.
He never puts anyone at risk. More likely, Shindo will put himself in the line of fire first. Just like Katsuki.
"Go," Intelli says. "I'll make the plans."
That's as much a promise that they'll behave as he'll get. Shindo is too proud and unyielding to say anything.
Nothing more needs to be said. He leaves them be, hopeful that they will stay safe.
The meeting is in Mustafu, a place he used to call home. Last time he came by was months ago and Izuku hadn't even been in prison for more than three months.
Just thinking that thought is still so weird that he pauses in the middle of the street, getting a rough shove in return. Obviously, he doesn't take that lying down. Yes, there's screaming and cursing so bad it sends the rude kid—when did fourteen make someone a kid?—crying down the road, but really, he had it coming.
By the time he gets to the meeting point, a café that's been rented out by the day, he's almost composed. Seeing a cat perched on the back of one of the seats isn't that shocking. He's heard about this cat café from Momo when she went there after the Stadium attack a year and a half ago.
Momo sees him first, looking stunning in her red dress.
"Katsuki," she calls waving.
That draws everyone else's attention.
He hasn't seen all these fuckers together in what feels like years. It certainly has been a long time. The war ended over a year ago but that time passed so quickly just trying to keep his dumbasses alive in Shikoku.
The missing are the ones that spark the dying flames of grief. He has Momo and Jirou and Kaminari, but the others are gone—the insomniac from general studies and the vicious floating bitch who probably thought they'd be together forever; the tadpole chick and off-brand Spiderman; stupid four-eyes and those three who vanished after USJ: Hagakure, Mineta and Koda.
Kirishima is nowhere to be seen. Not that it surprises Katsuki when he remembers the bastard's cowardice. Even Aoyama is here and he nearly fucking died. Admittedly, he'd rather not see Ashido because that bitch fucked their mission and got someone killed—from the way Ojiro is pretending she doesn't exist, he feels the same.
Once, their affiliations were simple. All of them loved UA and that was that. Now, Tokoyami can't hide the fact that he's the Emperor's bird through and through even if he doesn't wear white. Izuku is divisive, the heir to a villain and a hero, and only declared innocent in the past week.
And yet, despite all that, there's still a bond between them. It may have only been a few months, and so many of them were taken too early, but the grief and loss have only made the connection stronger. Even if he'll never admit it, there's no one here he wouldn't go the distance for.
"The fuck you all staring at."
That's enough to break the tension and people go back to talking. For now, at least, they can pretend that they're all just former classmates meeting up once more.
Momo starts chatting his ear off about her family, not that Katsuki cares. How is he supposed to care that her mother is a cold bitch who profits off suffering and misery or that her dad is a spineless coward who spends his time rallying on their private rally track?
"That spot's still open," he tells her, cutting past the bullshit.
Her eyes widen. "I thought—"
"You thought wrong. Fucking do something good if you're sick and tired of your parents. Besides, I could use your money."
"Would that make you my boy toy?"
If she thinks he'll get flustered then she has another thing coming.
"Considering you can buy a country; I'd marry you right now."
She flushes and Katsuki knows he's won. He leaves her like that and finds himself in a conversation with Ojiro. He's been making a name for himself in the mutant martial arts circuit, having recently placed second in the national tournament. Which is enough for him to have placed in the junior bracket for an international tournament. Apparently, it's the most prestigious martial arts tournament and placing in the top twenty is a lifetime achievement, the kind all the people who couldn't win brag about well into obscurity.
"You better fucking win," Katsuki says. "None of that second-place nonsense."
"You have a weird way of saying nice things."
"He's always been like that."
They both look over to see Izuku approaching. He's got an odd expression on his face, relaxed and calm even when surrounded by people who might not be his closest allies anymore.
"I'll leave you two to talk," Ojiro says, smart enough to not be caught in the crossfire if things get rowdy between them.
The pang of guilt at Izuku's burn scars is present and will likely never leave. Thank fucking god the sealed red order which he got from that incident mysteriously disappeared from the databases during the war. It's the only reason he hasn't been sent to prison for the rest of his life for acting without a hero license.
That and no one thinks hero licenses are useful anymore. When Gang Orca and Mirko both retired after the war, there hadn't been much of a top ten. Sure, Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady got bumped up, but they certainly aren't respected like Hawks or All Might. And with Endeavour not making public appearances, there's no one to look towards as a new pillar amongst the heroes.
Everyone's looking toward a new generation. They're looking at birdbrain for all he did during the war. People are watching Izuku for being who he is. Fuck, there's even internet forums dedicated to Katsuki and what he's doing—and no, he won't be taking that interview with Quirk News Network no matter how much Intelli prods.
"Hey, dumbass," he says, putting his internal thoughts aside. "How's not being a fucking criminal feel? How the fuck do you even get arrested when you can beat the shit out of everyone, you stupid fuck?"
Izuku dares to smile. "I genuinely did miss your cursing."
He says it as smoothly as he wears his dark suit, the only hint of colour being his blood-red tie. He looks ominous and foreboding, nothing like the awkward Izuku he grew up knowing. Katsuki feels underdressed in his off-white jacket that he paired with sneakers and a rather rude red shirt.
"Fuck off. You gonna do something about your stupid ass followers who don't know jack shit about you."
"Well, I hear your group is doing that for me." Izuku squeezes his shoulder. "I'm glad you found your own path to be a hero."
Katsuki bats his hand away. "Fucking bleeding-heart pansy. Grow a pair and stop getting captured."
Izuku's laughter follows him as he walks away. There's nothing malicious there, only fondness and genuine mirth. It comes suddenly, the yearning in his chest that they were friends. And Katsuki knows they can't. Not after everything.
He finds Ibara and Jirou by the bar, both with cups of coffee. Katsuki can smell that alcohol in Jirou's so far away it almost worries him.
"Alcohol and cigarettes don't suit you."
She bares her teeth. "Fuck you, mum. And I don't do cigarettes."
"Oh, I'm sorry, it's your third boyfriend that does the smoking for you?"
"They're not my boyfriends. They don't even know about each other." She fucking retrieves her flask from her jacket and takes a swig. "Look, if you're uptight because you haven't had sex in… ever, I'm sure one of them likes guys as well."
He rolls his eyes and decides rehashing this argument isn't worth it. Katsuki isn't her mother and doesn't control her. Besides, he doesn't give two shits about how she lives her life.
He drowns them out as he scans the room for anyone he hasn't spoken to. There's Shoji but who knows if he even actually speaks. Aoyama is a bust because that means dealing with flamboyance and Katsuki doesn't deal with such on the best of days. Besides, getting close to Aoyama means walking past the fucking birdbrain who has blood on his hands, a lot from how the media portrays him as a war hero.
"Stop glaring so much," Jirou says. "It's rude."
"There will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not repent," Ibara says softly. "Only the Lord knows a man's heart and innermost secrets. Be at peace, Katsuki. It is not our right to judge without knowing. That does not excuse you, Jirou. We know you very well."
"Are you my mother as well, now?"
Katsuki grunts, glad that he's not the only one who gets the annoying mother treatment as well. "You know I don't believe in your god."
"As you've told me many times. But, as Blessed Pope Francis once said, the Lord redeemed all of us, not just the Catholics." She smiles and his throat constricts. "I believe you do good in your own way, Katsuki. And that is more than enough."
He works his throat, trying to find a rebuttal. But fuck if he doesn't get confused when people treat him as something other than a villain about to happen.
Jirou punches him on the shoulder, chuckling, before taking Ibara to mingle with the others. They accept her easily enough and Aoyama manages to get a laugh out of her with his antics.
No one has come by the bar in a while. Not since birdbrain reached over and grabbed a bottle of vodka that he's steadily been going through with Jirou. At least he didn't try to speak with Katsuki because that would have led to a fight.
"Hey, Katsuki," Denki broaches cautiously.
Katsuki glares at Kaminari. He honestly thought he'd beaten out that hesitance by now.
"The fuck you want that you gotta whisper for?"
Denki winces. "Are we gonna have to fight Izuku?"
The piece of shit in question is talking to bird-brain—and, incidentally, mostly draped over half-and-half—pretty far away, but his head is tilted towards Kaminari. Fucker heard everything most likely.
"Not unless he starts anything." He is tempted to gesture rudely. "If he does, I'll punch him in the face until he behaves. Don't give two shits about his quirks. I'll do it with my bare hands."
"But you have to use your hands to punch someone."
"Shut the fuck up."
Things stay much the same for hours on end. Katsuki keeps out of the stupid drinking games because teenagers with access to an open bar are idiots. At least they shoot down Jirou's drunken suggestion of an orgy, though she makes up for it by taking Aoyama out back. Katsuki hadn't even noticed the pair were missing until they stumbled back in, both flushed but thankfully wearing clothes, even if Jirou's bra is missing and Aoyama has more hickeys than clear skin.
"I'm adding you to my list," Jirou slurs, poking Aoyama.
Katsuki walks Momo out of there Jirou can make any more advances. It's dark out and the air is chilly. He regrets not bringing a jacket, unlike Momo who sports a black shawl over her red dress. She looks the part of a rich heiress, which never really changes. How mismatched they must look, the wealthy heiress and her poor friend.
He takes her hand and pulls her aside just before she stumbles over a hidden step that he only knows about from living in Mustafu all his life. They're close to the park he spent a big part of his childhood in. The hill hiding the park looms over, a familiar and comforting sight.
"I've been told you're quite the mother hen."
"Fucking Jirou."
"No, that was Izuku. Which Ibara corroborated."
He takes a breath and pushes down his frustration. There's a car down the road with two men outside. Momo gestures to her driver and bodyguard who both nod and get back in the car.
They walk a while longer until they find a comfortable bench to sit on, the only one of five that wasn't destroyed by the war. Too much of the country bears the marks of devastation. Too many buildings flattened and ravines bisecting cities. Broken bridges and sunken neighbourhoods.
He stretches out languidly, hoping to annoy her and stop thinking of his damaged nation. Instead, she sits right next to him, leaving almost no space, and places her head on his shoulder.
"What happened?" he asks.
"I saw it happen," she says, staring in the far distance. "Tianjin burning. I saw it."
He inhales sharply and wraps his arm around her. "I'm sorry?"
The fuck is he supposed to say to that. 'I understand' would be such bullshit he won't even try. Worst he's ever seen is a forest on fire and his classmates dying and the earth trembling as a natural disaster in human form unleashes his power. No, he certainly has no experiences like that.
And if he does consider it, then he might start trembling and find it hard to breathe. Having a panic attack when the woman beside you is crying is some pussy ass shit for beta males or secondary characters no one likes.
She darts her red-rimmed eyes over to him, contemplative. They soften slightly and she leans into him.
"Never change, Katsuki."
She takes his free hand and laces their fingers together. It's a beautiful night to be with someone you care for. He wishes he could say everything deep in his heart but those words are fragile, delicate as the agreements that kept Japan in peace. Katsuki worries that his bumbling words will shatter everything between them.
"Katsuki?"
He must have been lost in thought a moment too long. "Anyway, you wanna get married. I do need that fucking money."
She huffs into his shoulder, amused. Better that than the tears that have left a wet spot. Better this distraction than her knowing how he feels.
"You're so needy. Women don't like that in men."
Yet, she doesn't move. They stay like that a little while longer.
-TDB-
The reunion has ended, leaving Shouto Todoroki incredibly pleased. Of everyone who had come, only Momo had been someone he had wanted to see. Unfortunately, she had walked off with Bakugou before he could corner her and chasing after her would have meant displacing Izuku who looks comfortable on Shouto's lap.
They haven't spent any time together since Izuku was arrested. Over a year without seeing him almost made Shouto forget what being with Izuku is like. It's almost like gravity. Easy to ignore but undeniable when you're about to jump out of a plane. Izuku's return is like the ground rapidly approaching.
Shouto walks beside Fumikage as they follow Izuku. He's talking a mile a minute, bits and pieces from everything somehow intermingling. Shouto has no idea how some petty dictator from South America that died a century ago has to do with modern hero trends or the relationship between Australia's military junta and the economic situation in Botswana.
A glance and Fumikage is just as confused, but at least he has a flask—Is that Jirou's?—of vodka to indulge in. Drinking habit aside, Fumikage hasn't changed any more than Shouto has. Maybe a bit more blood on their hands, though Shouto is sure he still holds the highest body count—and he isn't letting that record go—but still the same.
Izuku, however, seems different somehow. Brilliant and magnificent, yes, but there's something almost old about it. It's like the glory of yesteryear somehow embodied in one person.
Eventually, they reach the waterfront. Izuku jumps onto the railing gracefully, not pausing in his torrent of words. He faces the water, taking it all in. And, as the minutes pass, so too do his words slow down.
"Sometimes I wish I had a water quirk. Then maybe I could just…" Izuku reaches out, almost trying to grasp the ocean in his hand. "You know."
"Perhaps you would be happy," Fumikage says without slurring. "But I feel it would chain you down. The ocean is not as free as the wind. It doesn't search unerringly to the future as lightning does."
"I nearly gave up a few times. You guys always know what to say to push me forward. Without you, getting out peacefully seemed impossible."
"Some would say the hurdles we overcame are impossible. The three of us, gods in our own right. Who would believe that story?"
"Honestly, it seems a lot easier than being a hero. But if I'm with you, being a hero sounds easy."
Thankfully, Izuku's focused on the water, drawn to the endless blue as always. It means he doesn't see Shouto's thunderstruck expression.
Shouto and Fumikage share a look, one that speaks of disappointment. Izuku isn't ready, not really, to face the harsh realities of the world. Maybe he never will be. Not if he still believes he can be a hero.
"Izuku." Fumikage says it like he's trying to soothe a wounded animal. "Why do you say that?"
Their friend turns back to face them, his grin still there but it is dimmed by his confusion. It tugs at his scars uncomfortably.
"That's what we were gonna be, the three of us. That was the promise. We can show the world what heroes look like in a new era."
He's so painfully earnest that even Shouto's empty pit for a heart is nearly moved. Nearly. Because he loves Izuku, but it hurts to see someone you love lie to themselves.
"We three kings," Shouto says, his voice breaking. "That was the promise. That's not the same as being a hero."
Izuku's smile cracks. "Isn't it?"
It takes him a moment to understand. And it genuinely leaves him shocked. Izuku isn't being naïve, not in the sense that he thinks change can be wrought without bloodshed and violence, but somehow his goal to change society is built on the back of being a hero. Maybe a different type of hero from the norm, but still a hero.
You'd be killing in a war if we didn't burn down Tianjin. Maybe then you'd understand that the age of heroes is dead and you killed it.
Fumikage saves him from having to say anything.
"I have one duty, my friend. I am to fight the abyss and protect humanity. Heroics has nothing to do with that."
"But—"
"And I stopped caring about that as a goal before the war started," Shouto says. "Before the internships. You saw how I changed after the abyss. The things I did aren't things a hero would do."
"I forgive you."
"Not if you really knew." Shouto summons a spark of godflame to his hand. "The things I've done with this fire would make you sick. And if they would make someone like you who forgives as easily as breathing, sick, then the rest of the world would never accept me as a hero."
"But—"
"No," Fumikage interjects, summoning his sword. "I wish you could see the blood I've shed with this sword to protect Japan. Against China. Against the abyss. The only reason the Chrysanthemum stands in the light is to be a deterrent. Not because we're good and just people, but because we're the best killers out there and the world knows it. I earned a dozen awards and medals because I sank ships and killed, not because I am a good person."
Izuku frowns. "I'm not stupid. But you're my friends and I refuse to let you walk down that road anymore. We can be better."
"Is that philosophy the reason you didn't end the war quickly?" Fumikage asks caustically. "Were two lives really worthy everyone who died?"
Izuku's eyes narrow and for a moment, Shouto hears a songthatwillendlife. It fades quickly, but it's the only indication that Izuku has gone from frustrated to rage.
"Momo and Kouta are their names. You think their lives weren't worth it?"
"I think only you can make that justification with your moral system which is, quite clearly, insane by every meaning of the word."
"Fuck you. The way we live is more important than the goals we achieve."
"And the twelve million Japanese people who are dead will never get to answer that question." Fumikage takes a step forward, his sword burning with energy. "That's on you. Grow up. Our morals don't matter when lives are on the line."
Izuku jumps down and the shadows follow him, engulfing him in darkness. "The way we act when no one is looking matter more. One life now becomes a thousand down the line."
"In your case, it's already in the millions."
Fumikage dodges Izuku's wild punch. Shouto slides between them before it escalates, grabbing Izuku by his tie. "Calm down and take a walk."
Izuku throws his hands in the air. "Fine. I didn't come here to fight."
He waits until Izuku is out of range before turning back to Fumikage. His disappointment must speak volumes as Fumikage doesn't glare back at Shouto. That's as close to an acknowledgement of wrongdoing as Shouto is going to get.
"Unnecessary."
"I should have stayed my tongue," Fumikage says, surprising Shouto. "Was he always so…"
Shouto nods. "I'll keep him moving forward."
"I'll place my trust in your… love, to keep him whole." He almost spits the word out in distaste.
Then Fumikage turns his back on Shouto. He takes one step forward and spacetime collapses around him, swirling and rising to Fumikage's intent. Between one step and the next, he is gone, vanished to parts unknown.
It's an interesting technique to twist the godflame's hold over reality and make it malleable. Shouto doesn't do that and would likely struggle with it. What Fumikage does is a subtle balancing act. Shouto would rather just burn down the barriers.
He gives Izuku time to stew in his thoughts, unwilling to disturb him just yet. Not when every shadow in the area is vibrating and the smell of ozone is so dense. When the world stops being so unnaturally dark and the pinpricks of light from the stars reach them, Shouto approaches him.
He sits right next to Izuku and they watch the waves lap against the pier, the biting wind forcing him to squint.
"I didn't mean to throw that punch."
"I think you did."
Izuku turns his head. "I didn't even—"
Shouto takes that opportunity to silence him and lifts his hands, bringing them to Izuku's face gently. His thumb brushes the outline of his burn scar, reaffirming his memory of every bump and ridge. He presses his forehead against Izuku's, breathing in his presence as a drowning man would his first breath of air.
In the darkness of the abyss, Shouto came to learn that Izuku is the air and sun and gravity. Izuku promises a brighter future each time he smiles. It's why so many follow him. It's why he can change terrible people and make them want to try and leave something better.
Without Izuku, Shouto and Fumikage wouldn't be friends. Perhaps there wouldn't even be three kings without Izuku simply being himself.
Believing in Izuku is like a prayer in the deepest recesses of his soul. Mortals can pray to gods and sometimes they listen. What happens when a god prays?
I'll give you your society, just let us be with you. We'll make the terrible choices so you don't. They'll hurt you and break you. Let us make them.
He doesn't say any of this out loud. He simply lets the weight of this unheard prayer permeate every iota of his being, every spark of his godflame heart, and every forgotten memory of his mother. That prayer is a promise, one that collapses endless futures in the vision of his right eye changed by godhood.
Izuku takes his hands gently. There is strength in his callouses and scars, a testament to all he has survived.
"I'm right here," Izuku says earnestly. As though he accepts love and devotion as easily as breathing. But then again, he gives it just as easily.
That dichotomy between the human Izuku in his left eye, his human eye where Izuku is kind and compassionate and peaceable, and his right eye, his godflame eye where the shadowking is a towering bastion of impossible logics and beautiful cruelty, always leaves him dizzy.
"You're my…" he trails off. Friend feels too weak. You aren't simply friends with someone after carrying them on your back for months. You can't simply be friends with someone willing to go the distance for you.
Izuku laughs. "I'm yours. I always will be "
"You give yourself to everyone," Shouto whispers, bitter but not sad.
"Because everyone's worth it."
"No, they really aren't."
"Believing they are is what being a hero means."
Izuku smiles, and Shouto has never seen this one. He thought he knew every permutation those scars could take when his lips stretched. But this is different, fundamental to Izuku. It's like seeing him stripped bare more so than even his dark eye can see.
It hurts Shouto that he'll have to take away that smile.
"I need to say something you won't like. Maybe you'll punch me, but I think it needs to be said."
"Say it."
For a moment, he hesitates, tempted to change his words and make it more palatable. But Izuku's green eyes are watching him intently, searching for deception or manipulation. They won't let him retreat but neither will they let him lie.
With no other choice, Shouto tells the truth
"The age of heroes is dead and you killed it."
Each word is like a physical blow to Izuku. By the time he is done, the distance between them feels vaster than the oceans. He could physically reach out and touch him, but the gap is too great. He tries so anyway.
Izuku punches him hard enough that he falls into the water with a broken jaw.