'I respected Hero greatly. She was truly the best of us. When I first spoke to her, I believed her nothing more than a naive child, too kind for her own good. But as we spoke, what I believed to be naivety turned out to be a deep abiding love for humanity and a vast well of compassion. Though she was decades my junior, I saw only an equal. Her legacy is vast and I often question if I have come close to it. Hero bettered the lives of half a billion by being uncompromising in her kindness. She was an exemplar of peace and justice. One day, I hope people look back and consider me her equal.'
—Excerpt from 'My Eclipse' by Hawkmoon.
Eijirou Kirishima runs. He runs as hard as he can, eking out every ounce of speed his large frame possesses. If he doesn't, then he's going to be spider food.
He also hates how unmanly it is that they live in a world like that. Oh, he'd been freaked out when the spiders started appearing. He'd forgotten about them when Greece went to shit. You can bet that he hadn't given them a single thought when those monstrous things plopped themselves across the world.
Things had very quickly gone to shit. Monsters appearing everywhere, communications jammed, and panic across the city. Everything had gotten worse when the spawning ground showed up in the middle of the city.
Their hometown is probably still up in flames right now. The military hadn't cared the moment a spawning ground had shown up in the town hall. They'd just fired missiles and napalm. Eijirou had dragged Mina to the ground and protected her with his body. His hardening quirk is the only reason they're alive. The same can't be said for Mina's parents.
Eijirou had dragged her out of the rubble and forced her to follow him. The first few hours had been the hardest. Eijirou had to contend with smoke, fire and crumbling roads all whilst taking Mina with him. His throat had been parched by the time night had fallen but there was no water to be found anywhere. Not that it mattered when they needed to get out.
Mina had finally started responding around midnight. She'd helped him find an intact car and she'd started driving them to Eijirou's directions. He knew someone who could get them out, someone who should still be at the port.
They'd ditched the car to sneak past the military patrols enforcing the quarantine. They'd nearly gotten caught but Mina had acted faster than the soldiers could react, spewing acid on them. It had melted them to the bone in moments.
Eijirou had nodded in newfound appreciation before dragging her with him, staying low and using the cover of darkness to help them. He'd thought things would get better once the sun came up.
He'd been very wrong.
It's why they're currently running down quiet streets, terrified. Behind them is a spider the size of a car followed by dozens more smaller ones.
Apparently, they want to make Mina their queen. He doesn't know how he understands their chittering and screeches, but the words are there.
They're rapidly losing options. Potential futures are collapsing all around him as one avenue of escape is cut off after another. His vision darkens as all but one future suddenly vanishes.
"Left!"
She turns a second behind him, both just missing a silken net. They sprint and then he sees it, the warehouse of his visions. The ceiling is caved in and it is clear from every direction. Just the kind of place spiders love, bright and airy and filled with sunlight.
Whatever had changed all those months ago had made it so that spiders hated the dark. He doesn't understand it and doesn't want to.
Eijirou hardens his skin and sprints past Mina, barrelling through the door with no trouble. He doesn't stop moving through the dust cloud, his eyes burning as he scans for the spot he saw in his vision. There, right beneath an air conditioning unit precariously hanging from the ceiling by a thread, is their salvation.
"Get in the dark," he roars.
It goes against everything he knows. The dark is where monsters should reside. But things have changed. He doesn't know why, but they've been forced into the light. The future itself is screaming that this is their only chance for survival.
There isn't enough space. They're forced to squeeze close. Closer than Eijirou would ever like to be with someone who may as well be his sister.
"If this doesn't work—"
"It will," he promises, holding her tight. "It will. It will."
He can hear them, skittering as they approach. A tidal wave of spiders ready to kill them all and here they are, in a patch of unlit warehouse. Eijirou squeezes his eyes shut, knowing that nothing he can do will save them.
They're so close. He can hear their rage, their lust, their greed.
A wet squelch forces him to open his eyes.
It is darkness made manifest, tentacles of the eternal night that seek out the spiders, slicing through them as if they are butter. The shadows around them feel like cold slime, sickly and weird and unnatural.
He knows this darkness and has tasted it. This darkness belongs only to one person. Izuku Midoriya's reach extends further than Eijirou thought.
I'm not forgiving you, Eijirou thinks. Saving us doesn't make you a good person. I know what you will become.
He doesn't want to think of the being Midoriya became when he died that day at USJ. He certainly doesn't want to think about how similar his presence feels to the monster off the coast of Japan. They are too similar.
You're nothing but a monster wearing human skin.
"Let's get out of here."
There's a boat with his name on it. In these times of chaos, smugglers have been invaluable even if they are sickening. They're profiting off people who escaped quarantine zones, promising to get them somewhere else. Eijirou has already made his payment to the captain months ago, giving the woman enough money to accept him without question when he shows up.
She'd been the one to smuggle him out of China and past Japan's border patrols. He's grateful that she hadn't decided to cut her losses early.
They settle in, refugees fleeing a nation besieged by the apocalypse.
"We're going to come back," Mina says.
Eijirou squeezes her hand. It's for his own benefit. His fingers have been trembling for hours.
"Yeah. And we're gonna win. You and me till the end."
Mina smiles. "Yeah."
-TDB-
Fumikage Tokoyami is mired in blood. Every inch of him is soaked by fluids of abyssal creatures. Some of it is blood. Some of it is non-Newtonian fluids. Some of it is acid. Most of it can't be defined by human language.
The last of the spawning sites, the one in Chiba, has only just been dealt with. With the looming presence of the Singers, he is unable to summon the totality of his powers. He's had to rely on Dark Shadows strength and his own blade, fighting up-close and personal despite his personal wishes.
It is, quite frankly, his weakest range. It's why he is covered in fluids from head to toe. He hates every second of it.
Now, they're fighting on a new front right outside the Imperial Villa. No one knows how a spawning ground appeared so close to them but it's here now. He'd moved as quick as he could to get back the moment he heard about it. There are people he loves and he will not see them suffer.
He lets Dark Shadow's power consume him, lets his physical strength amplify. The black blade materialises and he gives control of it to Dark Shadow.
The remainder of his hounds appears first, dozens of quicksilver dogs dripping acid for saliva. Hundreds of crows materialise, the feathers of glass unshattering making an eerie sound in the battlefield. Creatures who are children of ash and fire materialise, ghosting across the battlefield and setting enemies alight.
He wishes he could summon his dragons but those creatures will be like a beacon. In their hearts are burning cores of chaotic godflame that burn endlessly. Of all the creatures he houses within his soul, none embody life and light as much as the dragons do. Perhaps it is why they stand above all others.
He removes the white blade from the sheath on his back, one half of the pair, and parries a blow from something made up of shifting crystals and long appendages.
"Die for me."
He stabs the creature in what amounts to the heart, his white blade feeding on the energy and growing heavier. That energy flows from the blade and to him, empowering him further.
Perhaps that is the only benefit to fighting at this range. He can battle indefinitely so long as he uses that blade to siphon away energy.
One of his hounds leaps over him, using his shoulder as a springboard to tear into the shambling unborn nightmare trying to ambush him. It tears it apart, throwing it away like a ragdoll.
The sky shatters suddenly. Fumikage cocks his head as something manifests in their reality.
The thing before him is an impossible monstrosity, a memetic mutation propagating infinite times every Planck time. Its presence corrodes the air and breaks the barriers between this world and the deepest layers of the abyss. Every motion forward it makes is a prayer to the gods of the deep, every life taken a sacrifice to call them forth.
The only reason it hasn't spread across the world is that it must abide by the rules the godflame imposed upon this realm. It cannot bypass the arrow of time.
He summons his longsword and draws upon the reservoir of energy that belongs to him, grasps the lifeforce of the millions of lifeforms that call him master, and channels it to the blade. The edge seems to explode with purple light, a churning explosion of his power. It emits the dark smoke, the inky darkness of the deepest parts of the abyss.
Neither power belongs to him, but this intersection of godflame and true dark is his to command.
Dark Shadow guides his movements, as he raises the blade. His horde is smart enough to return to his soul and let their king battle unopposed.
The battlefield seems to stop as everything focuses on him. He sweeps the blade back and it leaves a trail of effervescent light in the air, a rip through reality.
The creature turns to flee, mutating infinitely to find a form that will let it escape.
It is a futile hope.
"Vanish before me."
He brings the blade down.
A wave of dark smoke and purple light sweep across the battlefield.
When the light dissipates, there is nothing left but devastation. The land is scorched and the soil beneath permeated by darkness.
Fumikage sighs, letting his weapons vanish. The spawning ground is still present, a dark and pulsating pool, but it is dormant for now.
For now, the people he loves are safe. A flash of light heralds Maya.
"Good job," she says, patting him on the shoulder. "Get cleaned up and rest. I'll take over from here."
Grateful for the reprieve, Fumikage nods. The Villa is close enough that it doesn't take him more than a few minutes to get to his room. He sets the shower to boiling and lets the water soak him. The water runs brown and red and yellow, all mixing as he scrubs his body down.
And when it runs clear, he simply stands there, almost like the water can wash away his crimes and failings. It's all getting too much and he's barely keeping it together. The end of the world is nigh and they're working on a hastily cobbled plan that means nothing. The weight of responsibility crushes him as he thinks of everything that must be done.
I just want to be done with all of this.
Thankfully, no one can see him shed tears. No one sees his body shake. No one can hear his sobs.
When he steps out, there is no indication that he was ever upset. He stands tall and undaunted for everyone to see. People straighten and lift their heads when they see his confidence and his gleaming armour.
Whilst he may wish to rest, there are people he wants to see. Safe and secure in the nursery are the children he's been looking after for a year now.
He's swarmed by bodies the moment he enters, falling to the ground with a huff. He smiles as they all start asking a million questions. They are family in their own way. He plays with them, laughing easily and avoiding their pranks. The world may be ending, but children will still be children.
Once they're tired out, Fumikage sets them to bed, smiling gently. They are spots of joy in an otherwise bleak situation.
There is an impromptu meeting going on outside when he leaves the nursery. The voices are hushed but caustic. Maya is amongst them, weathering a storm of insults, hunched over a table with a map on it.
"Is this truly the time to argue amongst ourselves?" he asks, interrupting them. "What is this about?"
"The children," Maya says.
Fumikage cocks his head, confused. "What of them?"
"Inquisitor, what are we to do with the children? Their powers would be useful in the coming battles."
Fumikage looks to the man who is as tired and horrified and despondent as everyone else. Yet, he gazes at Fumikage as though he has all the answers, as though he is a hero. The others all look to him as a leader. Him, and not Maya.
"It must not be children who fight this coming battle," he says strongly. "We will stand at the forefront and ensure there is a world for them to inherit. I will die before I see them enter the field of battle."
Unsaid is that he'll kill anyone who tries.
"Anything else?"
"The spawning points are converging on our location," Maya explains, tracing an arc on the map with his pencil. "It's going to be a slaughter. We don't have time for evacuations. We don't have the resources for it. Those helicopters would be better off bringing fighters."
If that's the case, then the fighting will right outside his home. It will be those he loves in the crossfire. Yet, one additional fighter is more useful than evacuating a single person. It just might mean the difference between success and failure.
"Send the call out. Anyone willing to fight should report to the recruitment centres. Utilise the quirk-prisons as well. Anyone who fights and lives gets an immediate pardon."
Maya nods. "As you say, Inquisitor." The deference is new and bothers him. Why is she acting like this? She is his superior. Not the other way around. He's followed after her like a lost puppy since they first met.
Still, the others move out to follow his commands, leaving Fumikage alone. There's one person he must find. A person he's been avoiding since the fighting started. Someone who has been on the battlefields with him, fighting with rage and fury.
He finds his target overlooking the fields. He kneels in meditation, thick chains around his arms. There is blood on him but he is unharmed.
"Fumikage," this mountain of muscle and tightly suppressed rage says.
"Hello, Father."
The man stands to his full height, his weapons disappearing. He meets Fumikage's gaze.
"You've grown."
He has. No longer does his father completely tower over him. He may not be as tall as the man, and may never reach that height, but he no longer has to look up to meet his eyes. Nor does he feel as though he speaks as anything less than an equal.
"I suppose I have. How is mother?"
"Your doctors are treating her injuries. She will make a full recovery."
"That is good to hear. Perhaps she'll be interested in meeting the kids."
His father inclines his head a crack. "I believe she would enjoy that. Did I ever tell you of the deal I made to come to Japan?"
The subject change is awkward but Fumikage shakes his head. He knows little of his father's past other than the blood his spilt.
"Not fully. Only that you killed many in Shikoku."
"This isn't my world, little crow. I was from another and I saw what can come from the abyss. It fell to darkness. The man in white was Hisashi and he gave me a life here in exchange for murdering my way through people in Shikoku."
Fumikage nods. "Hisashi, always Hisashi. He set so much in motion and I doubt he fully comprehends everything he did to this world."
"That man is a fool of the highest order. He plays with powers he knows not and is surprised by the outcome."
For once, the two of them agree.
"I have a request."
"You wish me to protect the children instead of fighting out there." Fumikage nods, not surprised that his father understands implicitly. "Why?"
"Because you're my father and I believe you will protect them where others will fall. When this final push begins, the defensive lines will break. They aren't ready, they aren't prepared. And I can't be everywhere. If you are protecting them, then I know they will survive. It is one less worry to consider."
"The bunker doors will be close to the portal location. It's the only area large enough for it. The fighting will be thickest there."
"Yes. I doubt any of the defenders will survive."
"You've become a leader. You're willing to sacrifice the life of your father for a possibility those children survive."
The answer to that is simple. They both know the answer.
"Will you do it?" he asks instead.
"They are my grandchildren, now. I will not let your family perish."
Fumikage nods and walks away, knowing he has very likely signed his father's death warrant. He feels the chain binding them together snap apart. Perhaps it is a glimpse into the future, but the meaning is evident.
"I'm sorry, father. Forgive me."
He walks aimlessly for a while, tired of it all. Exhaustion seems to be the only constant in his life now. A flash of light heralds Maya.
"I told you to rest." He doesn't fight as she leads him away.
Maya sits beside him in his room.
His hand is in hers, a warm anchor keeping him from drowning in his fears.
Softly, she says, "My little crow. My Inquisitor. My special asset. My Fumikage."
For some reason, that causes him to break. The tears come fast and silent. He does little to stop them.
She brings him close and holds him tight.
"I killed him," he whispers brokenly. "He'll die. Nothing will save him."
"Shh. I'm here."
How pathetic. Crying so soon again. And yet, he can't help it.
"What do you want?" she whispers in his ear, smoothing his ruffled feathers.
He accepts the moment of comfort. "Stay with me."
"Okay."
Behind closed doors, no one can see this moment of weakness between them. No one will ever know the details or the extent. All that matters is that he will be ready come morning.
-TDB-
The launch platform is a hive of activity and Shouto Todoroki finds himself fascinated by the work humans can do when they act in concert. The Tanegashima Space Centre is an extensive network of buildings with the launch platform itself being a very long runway extending out onto the ocean, two rails running its length. The shuttle will be mounted on that runway and accelerated to immense speeds by magnetic propulsion.
The shuttle had been mothballed and placed in the public museum on the island. Now, a team of hundreds of welders, engineers, scientists, metal workers, CNC machinists, and labourers had been working to retrofit it.
He's been here ever since the fighting stopped. He's proud of Fumikage for dealing with things so cleanly and not summoning too much power. The Singers had remained undisturbed the entire time.
One of the original astronaut team, an avian mutant, is giving Shouto a briefing he isn't focused on. "We'll need you to go through a rushed training program if you even want to manage. Are you even listening—"
"Stop wasting my time," Shouto snaps. "I don't need the lecture. Don't even worry about basic survival. Just make sure it's working."
"But—"
"You're distracting me." His voice is curt and threatening me. "Do you have any idea what's in the ocean right now?"
The presence of the Singer is terrifying but that isn't the problem. No, the problem is the spawning grounds that have manifested. One of them opened a few miles from Tanegashima Island at the bottom of the ocean. Shouto's been spending his time trying to form a godflame shield-wall around the island without awakening the Singer.
It isn't fun. It wouldn't take him much effort to annihilate the spawning ground and its hordes, but he isn't one for subtlety.
He stands, ignoring the astronaut. There is a naval fleet encircling the island for all the good that will do.
"Something big is about to pop out right there," he says for the benefit of the naval attaché set to watch Shouto.
The man startles. "Certainty?"
"Just deal… too late."
The ocean where he had pointed darkens, a massive wave heralding its presence. It breaches the surface, long tentacles and overwhelming hate. Shouto almost laughs at the giant squid. Almost.
Because the navy does the one thing he told them not to bother with.
Shouto senses when they use nuclear ordinance. The missile rushes forward, their fissile material emitting radiation until they reach a certain speed. And then the nuclear material stops giving off radiation. The initial explosion does some damage, but no nuclear reaction is setoff.
Good. Humans use them too easily.
New York is a reminder of just how devastation nuclear weapons can cause. Millions dead for absolutely no reason. Undoubtedly, more people would use them, failing to understand their futility. One day, Shouto will give mankind back their nuclear weapons but only once they've matured enough to use them responsibly.
He watches the navy battle the creature and its friends that show up. They immediately switch to more conventional weaponry. A crack like thunder makes him startle in surprise. He hadn't known they had railguns.
The railguns seem the most effective at tearing through some of the squishier creatures. When those don't work, they resort to incendiary missiles which are mildly more effective.
Shouto really hoped they'd be fine but now he has no choice but to intervene. The navy will be overrun by the abyssal monsters spawning with the squid and they'll move onto the space centre. Their entire plan hinges on stealth, speed, and not summoning boatloads of power. Shouto is about to break all of that.
Ice surges across the ocean, freezing everything between him and the spawning ground. His ice has entropic properties. It doesn't take to force time still around the spawning ground. And anything that doesn't register time will have to contend with his ice barrier.
Good, now he can focus on the giant squid currently eating a frigate. He swings his arm out, clicking his fingers. Black flames surround the creature. It shrieks in pain, music to Shouto's ears. He's hated playing the part of well-behaved anything.
When the battle is done, and the horde lays dead, he realises the futility of it all. Destroying them with godflame has weakened the laws of reality. It has opened more doorways to the abyss. It's like nothing he can do will help.
The hordes will come again and they will come when they are weakest, when the three of them are distracted by the Singer. He casts his gaze across Japan. Spawning ground after spawning ground, all of them converging on their location. Two massive ones are going to open in a few hours near Izuku's location. More still will open up here.
Shouto feels a massive shift in the abyss. He casts his gaze past realms unseen and sees his endless net of godflame snap and fray. They've taken their attention away from tearing down Shouto's single-greatest application of divinity with their mere presence and remembered their original goal.
Right now, they stare at Shouto and he feels fucking tiny before them. Imagine being in a home with an army surrounding it. Imagine only a rickety wooden fence as your only barrier. Imagine the terror as an army of millions rushes towards your home with the sole intent of murdering you.
That's what it means to face a Singer. Everything they've done is a delaying tactic at best. They've succeeded in making the army take a tiny bit longer but not much else.
When he comes out of his trance, he realises he can't see. His eyes are gone. He runs a hand down his face and finds it covered in viscera and gore.
Not this again. The Singers are spiteful little shits.
"Tell everyone to move up the timetable. We're out of time." He casts an illusion over his eyes before turning back to the astronaut. "How long do you need for that shuttle to be done?"
"Twelve hours."
"You have eight."
Then Shouto flashes towards the main island of Japan, careful not to disturb things too much. He can't afford to alert the Singer any further.
Finding Hisashi isn't difficult. The man is in a meeting with the Emperor. A meeting that Shouto disturbs without difficulty.
They are both looking over a map of the world, one marked by the location of the Singers.
The Emperor sees Shouto. "Young Todoroki."
"We're out of time. Hisashi, come with me." He points at the Emperor. "Get your son to Tanegashima. He's going to have a lot to deal with."
Shouto doesn't have time to waste listening to the response. He grabs Hisashi and flashes them away to the room they've been using for a while now. It is empty as usual. Good. Shouto will need to concentrate on this.
"I felt something big happen in the abyss."
"They felt me destroy a spawning ground. Now, they've remembered what they were doing."
"Fuck."
"You know that portal you and the other guy are building?" Hisashi nods. "It's gonna attract everything."
"Right when we've lost our strongest assets."
Shouto nods. "I'll be in space by the time the fighting worsens. Izuku won't be able to do anything without inciting the Singers and we need all the time we can get. It will fall to Fumikage to be everywhere at once, but even he can't bring forth all his powers without dooming us." It's a bad situation no matter how Shouto looks at it. "Yeah. The shuttle might not be ready. You're still too weak to handle the power you need."
"Do it now then."
"Your body will break down in a few hours if I rush this. I need the time."
"We're out of time." Hisashi rubs his eyes. "Listen, you're going to give me a big chunk of your power. You're going to need to recover. I haven't even figured out how I'm going to convince Izuku about the last stage of the plan."
"Tell him right before you do it. Don't give him a chance to argue."
"I hate you for what you're making me do."
Shouto shrugs. "Damn us all, I suppose. Now, let's do this. I can't guarantee your body won't simply collapse from the influx of power."
Shouto's hand dissolves into Hisashi's chest. Shouto reaches and touches the man's soul, bright green flames shaped into fractal patterns of Hisashi's loves and hope and fears.
With a thought, Shouto infuses power into the man's soul. He draws from the power that birthed time and entropy and funnels it into one mortal man. It is the power of the suns singing in harmony and the universe giving birth to itself endlessly.
All his preparation in fortifying Hisashi's soul is worth it as it greedily accepts his power.
He looks younger. Before, Shouto would have put good money on him being seventy. Now, he looks forty at best. Everything about him is greater than it was before. His freckles are pinpricks of silver light and his hair is impossibly dark, his eyes are green suns and his scars are like rows of fire.
Shouto has just given up most of his remaining power and yet, though Hisashi ostensibly has more power in his soul, he lacks the same trappings of divinity that Shouto holds. Raw power doesn't mean that Hisashi's domain has extended and become greater. He is still a walker of worlds and a breather of fire, nothing more. It just so happens that he can make doorways for beings that are universes unto themselves.
"How much time do I have?"
"I'd say ten hours before you completely collapse."
"That's within our window. We only need six hours to get you to the moon."
Shouto casts his gaze to the Singers, wondering if they even have that. He'll need faith and that's not something he's used to. What kind of God prays?
A scared boy marked by divinity prays.
-TDB-
"The nukes aren't working!?" Izuku Midoriya asks incredulously.
"That's all I know about it. The Navy's in a panic."
"But how?"
"I don't know."
He is in a conference call with his subordinate, Shuichi Iguchi, the once villain known as Spinner. Nowadays people just know him as Izuku's right-hand man. Like Kurogiri to All For One, Shuichi fulfils many of the same roles. Logistics. Organisation. Enforcing Izuku's will.
"Evacuations are proceeding," Shuichi tells him. "We lost a few people evacuating the Shizuoka base."
Izuku stares at the number. "More were saved by the evacuation. That's all that matters. Where are they being moved?"
"We're using Niigata and Ishinomaki as our rally points on Honshu."
"Why Ishinomaki instead of Sendai?"
"The Yaoyorozu estate is in Ishinomaki. They've loaned us land and buildings to use."
"That's… good. I really should thank Momo when I see her. What's your assessment?"
Shuichi opens his mouth, then darts his gaze to the side. "You can fuck each other after we live! Stop kissing and get back to work!"
Izuku grimaces as Shuichi shouts at his people. The idea of sex just bothers him so much. After everything he saw in the abyss, every desecration of the sacred, nothing is interesting in two people rubbing against each other.
I did not need to hear that, Mikumo mutters in disgust. Did the abyss burn away your libido?
Izuku, thankfully, doesn't need to answer because Shuichi is focusing on him again.
"Sorry about that. I think they're good places to set up camp. We'll need them when we survive."
Izuku narrows his eyes. "For what?"
"I'm loyal to you. I'm your Disciple. I also know that you won't think about what needs to be done once this war is over." Shuichi traces a finger over his scarf, his fingers resting on the green lightning bolt contrasting starkly against the red fabric. "People will fight in the chaos after this. Everything's going to change. Hokkaido is one of our strongholds. It's also where All For One recruited half of the League."
It is easy enough to follow Shuichi's thoughts. "And now I have their cooperation."
"The Yaoyorozu's own Miyagi from what I've seen. Their logo is on everything. I saw Momo ordering the mayor. If it extends to Iwate and Akita then that's Northern Honshu under their control."
"I want to reform the country, not destroy it."
"Why can't we just start over? A new nation for us. How hard do you think it will be to take over Hokkaido?"
Alone, it might take Izuku a few hours to destroy the military bases and evict the local governments. He's thought out how to win against any region of Japan. After all, All For One taught him the Great Game and the laws of power. He can't help but see the power structures and figure out how to destroy them.
He speaks true, brother. Maybe Japan is a failed state. Maybe it's time to start over.
"I need you to focus on keeping everything organised," Izuku says instead. "You're the only one I can trust to keep everything from falling apart."
"Understood. There have been a few disciplinary issues but I dealt with that."
"At spear point?"
Shuichi smirks and there is nothing pleasant about it. "Anyone working against us is working against humanity. Doesn't matter how high up you are. People get that now."
Some days, Izuku forgets that he is surrounded by killers. He's one himself. Muscular had been the first. He's not stupid enough to think that someone hasn't died to one of his punches after the fact. Quirks aren't gentle. It is the callousness that surprises him more than anything.
He said he would be your wrath. You accepted his oath. His acts are no more than an extension of your will.
"Dismissed."
The call cuts, leaving Izuku alone. He walks to another screen, this one with a map of the world. For a moment, he misses All For One's map room. That one let you walk around and was massive. This one is tiny in comparison.
He has set the map to reflect new information as it comes in. It runs many of the coding scripts that All for One built over his life. Some are designed to sort reports and display the affected area on the map, waiting for him to touch it and expand. Others show the movement of personnel and supplies.
With the information on this map, he can effectively give orders to the Lightning Bolt network. He isn't stupid enough to try and micromanage. He gives broad orders and general rules. The specifics can be figured out by people in the field.
The door opens, heralding Shouto. He looks… lesser, somehow. It's like a part of his divinity has been sapped away.
"You know, I heard the strangest rumour that the navy's nuclear arsenal isn't working," Izuku says. "The missiles are there, but all radioactive isotopes vanish after a certain speed."
Shouto ambles over and stands near Izuku. "Got rid of them."
"America?" he asks, remembering the strike against New York.
"America," Shouto agrees. "I've changed the laws on Earth. Any clump of nuclear material over half a kilogram moving at high speeds will stop… well, being nuclear. I've just created a world without nukes."
Izuku pats him on the cheek, the same way one would a dog. "That's the first piece of good news I've heard since they appeared."
"I'm going to give you some bad news."
"How much time do we have?"
"Eight hours at best. Then, I have to leave."
He stares at the world map, each marked by a location of the Singers. The projected casualty range is horrendous. A five-hundred-kilometre-wide circle had been drawn around four of the Singers. That doesn't bother him as much as the one around China. One-thousand kilometres wide around that one simply because they can't even predict how much destruction even a second of the Song could cause.
They're destroying a nation and they know it. They've chosen to let hundreds of millions die out of selfishness and political convenience.
He looks at the circle around Japan's Singer. In the middle of the ocean, that circle will wipe out the Greater Tokyo Area and parts of Honshu's eastern coast. It's a shit decision, one that will haunt him eternally.
"It's them and not us that will suffer," Izuku says. "I hate this. This choice will never be the right choice."
"For those we love."
Like lightning, his hand snakes out and grabs Shouto by the collar. He pulls Shouto to him. Shouto is tense, ready to block one of Izuku's punches.
All he does is lean forward, laying his forehead against Shouto's chest. He doesn't cry. There have been enough tears shed. All he wants is to feel safe and protected and know that nothing can hurt him.
It's a lie, yes, but one he needs.
"Stay."
Shouto wraps his arms around Izuku, one burning hot and the other frigid. It's a dichotomy that Izuku knows all too well. He could paint a picture of Shouto with his eyes closed by following the temperature gradients. They've been together so long that Izuku knows his fingertips are the hottest and coldest parts of him.
"Always."
Fire surrounds them and then they disappear. Izuku trusts Shouto too much to panic and move and possibly jolt them even though travelling like this makes him feel sick. Being enveloped in godflame makes his bones ache and his soul rebel, but Shouto's strong arms enveloping him keep him still.
They land on a hill overlooking the Imperial City, a few miles from the Villa in the centre. It is a distant explosion of activity with everyone working tirelessly. Mankind working towards one common goal ceaselessly. It is a vision of the future Izuku wants to see.
Shouto sits down, dragging Izuku with him. He yelps and elbows Shouto in the side for being an asshole. Shouto punches him on the chin.
Their fight is quick and scrappy and entirely unlike any other. There is no true threat to murder each other. Izuku's punches are playful, Shouto's elbows teasing, and their powers there to distract and trip up, not to kill.
He is grinning by the time he pins Shouto to the ground, his weight resting on Shuoto's hips to keep him from bucking Izuku off. One hand holds both of Shouto's wrists, threatening to break them. The fingers of his right hand are resting delicately around Shouto's neck, sparks of green lightning arcing across them. It would take no effort at all to crush Shouto's throat.
It wouldn't be the worst thing he's ever done to Shouto. Compared to stabbing him in the back, kicking him off a cliff, or breaking every bone in his arms, a crushed throat is nothing.
Shouto smiles at him. This smile is strange, soft and delicate when Shouto is nothing but hard edges.
"Yield," he says, voice just as soft as his smile.
That startles Izuku. Shouto never yields or admits defeat. He releases his grip on Shouto wrists and neck, staring down at him curiously.
Shouto sits up suddenly. Izuku would fall back if not for Shouto's arm appearing around his back, keeping him steady.
There is no space between them.
Izuku hesitates as he brings his hand up. Gently, he runs his fingers across Shouto's cheek, tracing his scar and following it to his hair. His hair is soft, Izuku realises, wondering why it is suddenly important. It's never been so special when he used Shouto's hair to drag him closer for a punch. And yet, he can't stop himself from playing with his hair.
Shouto's smile never changes. "I think I don't hate you."
"Oh please," Izuku says with a smirk, "you want to stab me just as much as I want to break your bones."
"Doesn't mean I hate you. I can like you and still stab you."
"I guess you can."
Ice crystallises in Shouto's free hand, forming a blade. Izuku's been on the receiving end of them many times.
Izuku watches the sharp ice slice through his arm. It doesn't hurt. Or rather, he's become so used to pain that this is nothing. His blood drips down from the wound.
"See."
He returns the favour by breaking the bones in Shouto's knife hand, one finger at a time. Shouto twitches like the wimp he is, but his smile never breaks.
Now they are both bruised and bloody. This seems right. Blood and violence bind them, not warmth and kindness.
"You two never fail to surprise me."
Izuku startles at the voice, ready to do something, anything, because who the hell thinks they have a right to intrude on this moment? There is lightning in his veins and anger in his heart, a curse in his throat and a violent urge in his chest.
Then he sees who it is. Fumikage. Tired, feathers ruffled, and with a splatter of dried blood on his feathers.
Just like that, the need to hide this moment with violence disappears. They're clothed fully and anyone who knows Izuku also knows his sense of personal space doesn't exist. But it still feels too intimate to share with outsiders.
Fumikage isn't an outsider and never will be. His presence eases Izuku's heart. The way his gaze sweeps indifferently across them settles something in the pit of Izuku's stomach. Fumikage seeing this is as natural as breathing. His friend needs no prompt to approach, will never need an invitation because the promises between them are invitation enough.
"Hey," he says, sitting near them. "I hope this seat wasn't taken."
Izuku shifts so that he's sitting on the grass as well. Shouto's smile has vanished, but he isn't closed off. The two share a look they probably think Izuku doesn't see, but so long as they don't dislike each other, Izuku won't call them out on it.
With Shouto as a spot of warmth beside him, Izuku moves one leg so it makes a line of contact against Fumikage and very much shoves his other foot hard against his thigh.
Fumikage doesn't take notice of the contact outside of an annoyed click, the same one he uses when he doesn't want to admit to being in pain. Izuku smiles. Outside of perhaps Kouta—and his relationship with that boy is special, a sacred bond of brotherhood forged in the fear of death and the mundanity of caring for the child, learning his every peculiarity and melancholy; his habits and the flavour of his grief—he wouldn't want anyone else here.
"I guess we can make space for you."
Fumikage nods. "Why are you two miscreants maiming each other?"
The stab wound in his arm is still bleeding. Izuku shrugs and watches as it heals. Shouto's broken bones reset as well, one crack after another.
"Because we're bored."
"You didn't look particularly bored."
"Well, don't make things boring then. You know what they say, three's a crowd."
Izuku means the words as a joke, something he heard from some stupid movie. He says them lightly as well. Yet, a flash of hurt crosses Fumikage's avian features. Then his features close off.
A stranger stares at him right now, not the friend Izuku's known for what feels like forever.
"I should go."
He moves to stand. Then, Shouto's arm darts out.
"Stay," Shouto whispers, his grip loose around Fumikage's wrist. It's the closest Shouto has come to compassion in a long time. At least, for someone who isn't Izuku.
"They will want my report," he says, not addressing the unsaid concerns.
"Later," Shouto insists.
"We're running out of time."
"We've always been running out of time."
Something about that makes Fumikage hesitate. Perhaps because it is Shouto saying it. Shouto who sees time as easily as Izuku sees injustice. Shouto who is cold and indifferent most of the time.
Izuku rolls his eyes and pulls Fumikage close. Squashing him between them regardless of his indignant squawks. Fumikage mutters a curse when Shouto elbows him by mistake as he tries to make room.
It is awkward and weird and uncharted territory. Everything around them is silent, no animals brave enough to disturb them.
"You're both degenerates."
Izuku laughs deeply, joyfully. "Yeah."
And then they just fit. The three of them are scarred and twisted by the abyss, born into powers they don't fully understand. The dark drove Izuku mad. Light took away Shouto's love and hate. Fumikage was increasingly chained by his obligations.
Maybe that which broke them also made it so that they are matching puzzle pieces, interlocking perfectly. Izuku's blinding hope in mankind finding a space amongst Shouto's frigid indifference and Fumikage's bottomless patience.
"I have never understood what we are to each other. What does this represent?"
"Whatever you want it to be," Izuku says, tired of labels and uncaring of them.
"I don't like…" Fumikage trails off, uncomfortable. "I don't have any interest in you. Not like that."
Izuku smooths a line of worry, fingers tracing patterns on Fumikage. The feathers are strange, entirely unlike hair. Hard yet silky smooth, coloured an impenetrable black.
"I don't want to do that with anyone," Izuku says. "But you love us, right?"
"How could I not when you are willing to die for me, to forgive me my sins and accept my failings. You're my first friend and because of you I met many people I care for." The intensity of Fumikage's gaze is smouldering, no hint of hesitation to his words. "In a century, in a millennium, you two will still be here when all others are gone."
And just like that, Izuku's cheer dies. His mother is gone and she will never come back. There is nothing he can do, nothing that will bring her back. His father is going to die soon as well and he's walking headfirst into danger.
So soon apart, he is to lose both parents.
"I miss her."
"We know," Shouto whispers.
"The pain may never relinquish its hold over you," Fumikage says, "but it is a burden that can be shared."
Izuku cries for the first time since his mother died. There is no judgement from either of them. They've seen him at his worst and he's been there at their worst. No matter who they were before, no matter the friends or family they had, the promise they spoke that day on the beach will never be broken. We three kings. Words said by three innocent fools with no blood on their hands.
Everything they faced forged them into something new, made them hard and strong. One trial after another. One obstacle always ahead of them. One hard decision lying in wait. It had forced them to be worthy of their thrones. Through it all, down all the roads they travelled, and moments they shared, that promise had bound them together.
The bond between them is stronger now after the time they spent apart. That separation had been proof nothing would ever keep them apart.
With the two people alive that know him best, Izuku Midoriya weeps. He weeps for innocence lost and friends departed. He weeps for those he couldn't save and those he allowed to die. He weeps for All For One, his final teacher who will never see what he will become. He weeps for Toshinori, his father in every way that mattered. He weeps for his mother whom he can never hug again.
When his tears have run dry, they are still there, silent and unjudging. Izuku wipes his face, unashamed, and watches the stars above.
It could be minutes or centuries that they stay together in silence, time running like golden syrup, beautiful and awesome and perfect in this moment. Like a spell cast by an undying god, time waits on them to move on.
"It's time I go," Shouto says, breaking the silence.
Izuku leans over Fumikage and punches Shouto on the side for ruining the moment. Shouto smiles and shoves Izuku's arm away.
A strong arm keeps him stable. He smiles at Fumikage below him who seems unbothered by Izuku's breach of personal space.
Then Fumikage shrugs Izuku aside and onto Shouto. He takes that as an encouragement to break Shouto's nose with a quick punch.
Fumikage rumbles in amusement to his right. "You've always wanted to go to space, have you not?"
"Yeah." Shouto's voice is nasal. He readjusts his nose with a sharp crack, wincing in pain.
Fumikage focuses on Shouto, eyes fathomless in their patience. "But you always could have gone at any time?"
"I guess I wanted to-I don't know. I wanted to get there. Me. Shouto. Not the scorchking. Not the god."
Shouto reaches out, his hand closing to grasp the stars. The motion reminds Izuku of each time he tried to reach the ocean. The endless sea has always brought him peace. The vast expanse of blue always seemed to hold some form of absolution for Izuku, forgiveness for his every failing and praise for all his glories.
Getting to the stars must be the same experience for Shouto, divine and majestic for those who are marked by the divine; an experience consecrated and blessed only for them.
In any other circumstance, Izuku would be joyous that Shouto is finally reaching them but it is burdened by the weight of what must come. It won't be the pure and earnest exploration of experiencing it for the first time.
Shouto has whispered of the suns and their majesty with reverence. He has told a tale of their sweeping glory and unending love for life when they're alone, watching the stars together.
It must have been Shouto's greatest dream to get to space.
Now, he's tainting that dream for their sake.
"Sometimes I forget that we're children," Fumikage says. "The weight of it all is crushing. I didn't even know you had any such sentiments."
Shouto smiles at Izuku, awkward and bumbling. It makes his heart catch in his throat.
"Not a lot of people know me."
Unsaid is that Izuku knows him and always will. In his mismatched eyes, Izuku sees all the hate and blood and love that forms the foundation of their everything. He knows Shouto's thoughts before he can say them. A part of him knows how much destruction Shouto has caused but that part is overshadowed by the part that wants them to be together.
"I want the ocean. I want to fall in the waves and sleep in them forever."
It takes effort to wrench his gaze away from Shouto and look at Fumikage, sitting upright and watching over them. He is calm and patience embodied. The foundation between them is madness and voices in the head and understanding, a depth of compassion and empathy that can't ever be traversed in a thousand thousand years.
In a thousand thousand years, they will still be together. Fumikage is a solid anchor in a tumultuous sea. A distant goal to be reached that can never be found until Izuku stops and realises that Fumikage stands beside him, always and forever in reach.
"And you?"
"I suppose I wish to see the heights that life will reach," Fumikage says softly. "I want to meet aliens. I want to watch evolution occur. I want to know the answer to the first question. Why is life?"
Shouto shifts beside him. "Why not?"
Fumikage barks out a laugh. "If the answer is so simple then truly, I am blind."
"The answer is love," Izuku says resolutely.
"Do tell, my friend."
"Love and life are two halves of the same whole. They need each other to exist. Love only exists if there's life and life only exists if there's love."
"But what made that first declaration of love? What gave life that first nudge forward?"
Izuku doesn't have the answer to that. Simply knowing that love exists and that life will flourish is enough for him. Why should he care what started it? So long as he can watch humans living and loving each other, then that is enough.
"The universe," Shouto says softly. "The universe loves life. Our sun loves the earth so much it hurts to hear. Perhaps, the universe wanted a companion. And that companion just happened to be every lifeform."
Fumikage hums. "It's an optimistic theory. I have never been predisposed to optimism. Yet, in these dark times, perhaps optimism is a strength. It will serve as a starting point if nothing else."
The shrill ring of an alarm cuts through their peace. It carries across the Villa and the Imperial City. Undoubtedly, more alarms like this are ringing across the country. They know what it means. The final assault must begin. They can waste no more time.
Izuku meets Shouto's gaze, a thousand unspoken words between them.
"Come back," Izuku settles on. "Both of you."
"Always."
"Have no fear. I won't die till Shouto gives me my knife back."
He takes Shouto's hand in his left. He does the same with Fumikage on the other side. And then he squeezes tight, crushing them with all the feelings he can't name.
He can name joy and love and worry, adoration and forgiveness and faith. They squeeze back and he knows they can name the emotions he can't.
They're broken, the three of them, for the same and different reasons, but they fit together like cogs in their pain. Their scars are complimentary, their trauma built for each other. Together, they can reach beyond perfection.
"Tell me that story when you get back."
"When we get back."
"We will always return."
And with that simple promise, he knows they will come back.