Secondhand
achieving elysium

two: old wounds

Midoriya, it seemed, was a bit of a fanboy. It was a bit endearing. Anyone could see the way his eyes shone when he talked about heroes, and Nana could tell he really, really believed in helping others. He wanted to be a hero, plain and simple.

When he said All Might he said the name like it really meant something.

Choosing a successor for One for All was— a hard task. Nana knew because it had taken her a long time to find Toshinori, and even after she'd found him she'd doubted if he was really the one. But she'd never regretted choosing him.

It had taken a longer time for Shinroku to meet her, too. Just a little luck. Just a little chance Nana might not have had if she hadn't been in the right place, at the right time. Shinroku had gone through three others, unsatisfied. They were strong, but not strong enough to carry the burden. They would be good heroes, but not good successors. They had never held the hand of loss.

Midoriya…

If Nana was being honest, she didn't know if he was the right one. When they had held hands, when they had shared a small kindness, she'd thought, I see. But Nana had yet to see him in action, so she kept her judgement to herself, waiting for the right time for him to reveal his heart to her. She believed in Toshinori, though, in his choice. He'd seen something in Midoriya that Nana had yet to.

He was a good kid, though. Nana could tell that. He had a nice set of manners. He was determined. But Nana could tell he was scared of something.

That was what Nana was worried about—that his courage would fail him at the wrong moment, and everything would fall apart.

Midoriya was telling her about the Sports Festival this year, gesturing animatedly with his hands as he described the challenges and his fellow competitors. Nana was content to listen as she sipped at warm tea and worked her way through a plate of crackers. He was bubbling with energy as he talked about the most interesting Quirks and parts, but partway through the conversation when his phone rang.

He stopped, hands still jerking a little midair as they caught up with the rest of him.

"Excuse me," Midoriya said abruptly, standing and strolling away as he lifted his phone to his ear. It was such a sudden change that Nana found herself reeling a bit. Sorahiko watched him go but made no comment.

"What do you make of him," Nana said softly after Midoriya had left, "really, Sora."

He narrowed his eyes at her for the little barb, but stretched. Nana heard his bones pop and winced. She supposed it was the one thing she wouldn't miss from growing old.

"I like him," Sorahiko admitted after a long pause. He stroked his beard thoughtfully and let out a long breath. "He's… hmph. I thought you might like him."

"I— do." Nana pinned him with her gaze. "But that wasn't what I was asking."

Sorahiko chomped loudly on a cracker. She wanted to snap at him, but he was really thinking and not drawing it out in a ploy for his own amusement.

"I think so," and it wasn't a full answer, really. She supposed he didn't know Midoriya well enough to give her one. He suddenly barked out a laugh. "He's—he and Toshi are just alike, though. Don't worry. Your boy picked someone just like him."

"You laughed," Nana said.

"I shouldn't have," Sorahiko grumbled darkly. He slurped at his tea, and met her eyes. "Toshi's a complete knucklehead. And now there's two. It was hard enough dealing with the one."

"You love him, though," she said, voice soft, "I know you."

"I loved him because you did," he replied, the exasperation slipping from his tone. He set his tea down, and reached over to cover her hand with his, wrinkled skin soft. She suddenly felt younger than she was.

"Sorahiko…"

From the other room Midoriya's voice rose and fell again. She could hear the pitch, a soft high buzz, but he was speaking too quickly for her to make out the words.

"Dunno what we're going to do with you, though," Sorahiko grunted, dropping her hand. He pressed his lips together. "Time is a— fickle thing."

Nana sighed. "A Quirk sent me here," she said, and though Nana wasn't sure it was the only explanation. "But I doubt its permanence. Eventually I'm going to have to go back to when I came from."

Sorahiko suddenly sat up straighter, frowning. "You… ahh…"

"Sora?"

Midoriya interrupted them, shuffling back in.

"What's up with you?" Sorahiko asked, moving smoothly from whatever speculation he'd had to Midoriya. Nana scowled at him.

"A friend just called me back," Midoriya said. He threw himself back on the couch, looking upset. "I was asking her about Iida…"

Iida. The name sounded familiar.

"Ingenium's younger brother," Sorahiko noted, and Nana nodded, the name returning to her. She'd never been close with the line of heroes, but she was familiar, at least.

"Mm," Midoriya confirmed, "I'm just worried about him, that's all."

He didn't seem to want to say anything more, though Nana wondered what that meant.

"Stirring up trouble with his internship?" Sorahiko asked, tone mild. He procured a spoon and began to stir at his tea, feigning disinterest, and Midoriya clasped his hands in his lap.

"I hope not. He's… um, in Hosu. After— I don't want him to go looking for, ah, trouble."

Sorahiko's spoon stopped.

"Hm," was all he said. Nana glanced between the two of them. Obviously she was more than behind on the times, and missing some piece of news that would have made the situation make more sense.

"That's not something you need to worry about," Sorahiko said firmly, in the manner that meant he didn't want to hear about a topic anymore. "Toshi's coming."

"Oh," Nana and Midoriya said at the same time. They glanced at each other, Midoriya's eyes ringed with surprise like he'd forgotten.

The last time Nana had seen Toshinori was just yesterday. Yesterday for her; she'd cut off training with him early because of the storm coming in. Thick roiling clouds that smelled like rain and promised no good. She'd told him… she'd told him…

A brief stabbing pain shot through her head. Nana hissed, and two pairs of eyes shot to her face. She grumbled something, waving her hand dismissively.

Their attention was diverted when someone knocked on the door.

"I'll get it," Midoriya announced. He looked at each of them carefully as if waiting for someone to disagree, but neither Nana or Sorahiko said a word.

"You go," Sorahiko told him. He waved a hand, though Nana saw the minute tremble in it. "You're young and spry."

Midoriya muttered something about Sorahiko being much faster considering he'd wiped the floor with Midoriya just the day before, but he obligingly shuffled out to go to the front door. She heard the door open. She heard Midoriya's voice, soft, and another, deeper, louder.

Nana closed her eyes. Toshinori.

"—alright…"

"I'm fine, there's nothing wrong, well… you really have to see. Actually I think…"

A set of footsteps. She stood dizzily. Nana's heart beat quickly in her chest; she turned, and he was there.

She wasn't ready to see him.

He was— it was—

The first thing she noticed was that he'd outgrown her.

A lump formed in her throat. Tall. Tall enough that Nana would have to reach up to ruffle his hair, if she wanted. A thin, almost-skeleton form hidden by baggy clothes. He had a narrow, pointed face—gaunt, sharp cheekbones pressing against skin—framed by soft, golden hair that was longer now. And a… tiredness to him. She'd seen it in Sorahiko, too.

Toshinori took in a breath that sounded more like a sob and shook his head, hair falling in front of his face.

"You can't be real," he said. Nana was used to seeing light in his eyes when he looked at her. This time there was nothing. A gaping hole opened in her chest, not a physical wound of any kind, and she felt something wet trickle down her face. "You- you're dead."

Behind him, Midoriya stood twisting his hands together. He was pale, but Nana couldn't tell what he was thinking. When he caught her looking he offered her a reassuring smile and tilted his head in Toshinori's direction.

But Nana couldn't find the right words. She couldn't get them past her throat, a sour taste beginning to accrue in her mouth. She just stood, transfixed, and Toshinori looked at her like she was a ghost.

To him, Nana thought, she was.

Sorahiko stepped up next to her. He took her arm, pressing gently with his fingers, and walked her forward. A step, then two, until they had crossed the short divide.

"Toshinori," he said, and his voice was as grave as when he'd spoken at Tadao's funeral. "She's alive."

Toshinori opened his mouth; then his features twisted and he coughed hard into a hand. Midoriya silently handed him a napkin, and Toshinori dabbed at his mouth. The fit was over in seconds, but as he pulled his hand down Nana saw the redness peeking out on the edge of the napkin.

She was moving before she even realized, catching his wrist, gently turning his hand towards her. A few drops of blood. He closed his fingers tighter around the napkin, tucking it down away from sight, and Nana looked—up—at him.

"I—" he started, voice low, and then faltered. Blue eyes dropped to her hand, still wrapped around his, and then to her face. "You're… here?"

He said it confused. He said it like the kid she'd seen yesterday, the same person, still finding his place in the world, still looking—up—to Nana.

"Toshinori," Nana said, and gripped his shirt, and pulled him into her arms. He dropped into them like his strings had been cut, but Nana gathered as much of him as she could, folding strong arms around his back and grasping at the fabric there. He put his head on her shoulder so she could feel his breath shuddering against his neck.

"It's okay, squirt," she told him, and Toshinori laughed wetly. Nana ran a few fingers through his hair and marveled at him. He'd grown up. He was a hero. The man in front of her—a hero.

And the words came back to her.

What she'd said yesterday to Toshinori before she'd sent him home, as the sky had deepened around them ominously. She'd scanned the coming storm and told him she was going to do a quick round of the streets to make sure no one would get caught in it. And Toshinori—brave and selfless—asked to come with her. She'd turned him down. Nana was glad for that.

Instead she'd squeezed his shoulder.

Don't worry, and Nana had smiled, and everything had been alright. I'll see you soon.

"It's good to see you," she whispered.

Toshinori pulled back. A sheen had appeared over his eyes.

"I don't understand," he admitted, voice cracking. "You died, Nana. You… All for One…"

"I know."

Her fate was inevitable.

Sorahiko hadn't said it in so many words, but he didn't have to. She knew him too well. He wouldn't have ever looked at her the way he had. But Toshinori had only confirmed what Nana knew.

Here, years in the future, Nana was dead.

"How…"

"Well, stop standing there and use that brain of yours, boy," Sorahiko interrupted. He crossed his arms over his chest, and he'd returned to himself, impatient.

"We were discussing it earlier," Midoriya broke in. He waved his hands in a circle. "From what we know it has to be some sort of—time travel. Maybe the effect of a Quirk, because it's the only way that any of this is possible, of course, if it's possible at all. Not, um… resurrection. Though the implications of a time travel Quirk… we might have to see if anyone else was affected, or do some research. I mean, I've never heard of a time travel Quirk to this magnitude before—to be able to span years… it's really incredible."

He flushed. Nana blinked at him, surprised, but Toshinori was the one who laughed. It wasn't malicious, though; instead he seemed amused, and grateful.

"Thank you for explaining," he said, cutting off what Nana figured was an apology. Toshinori smiled, and it was genuine. "A time travel Quirk."

"Toshinori. Do you remember—" Sorahiko paused, glancing at Nana before he said it.

"Oh, just spit it out. Nothing to be done for it."

Sorahiko changed his focus to her. "—you went missing for a number of months. No warning, nothing left. One day you were there and the next you'd disappeared. We couldn't do anything about it and we were scared that All for One might…"

"We kept it a secret," Toshinori continued, catching his strength. "We were worried if All for One knew you were missing he might cause trouble that I couldn't handle alone. So we kept quiet and tried to— and we waited for you to come back. Wherever you'd gone."

Sorahiko began to laugh. He bent over, still laughing, then straightened with a grin.

"We were idiots," he spat out, and it was so out of the blue that Nana found herself laughing, too.

"We…" Sorahiko wheezed. He shook his finger at Nana. "You treated us like fools. You said you hadn't gone anywhere. You were looking for—bah. It wasn't wherever she'd gone, Toshi. You didn't lie."

"Not where," Toshinori said, realizing, "but when."

"And I let it go," Sorahiko grumbled. "You've got to be kidding me."

"So I—will go back."

"You have to," Sorahiko said. His shoulders drooped. "You're not meant to be here. You don't belong in this time."

"That's very welcoming of you, Sora."

Toshinori coughed again, choking. Sorahiko just grinned, wider and wider.

"God, Nana," he said, reaching and clasping her arm. "I've missed you."

"I haven't," Nana replied, but she trailed her thumb along the inside of his wrist. "Not one bit."

"Alright, that's enough of this," Sorahiko said abruptly. "Enough time has passed as it is. Midoriya, come with me. Your control over One for All isn't getting any better when we're standing around talking."

Toshinori made to move, but Sorahiko stopped him.

"And you," Sorahiko said, jabbing a finger in Nana's direction, then in Toshinori's, "You teach him how to teach. I don't want to see Toshinori in training until he can get a rational thought through that head of his."

"Yes, Gran," Toshinori said, lowering his eyes. Nana felt her lips twitch.

"Sure, grandpa," Nana teased, and Sorahiko, halfway out the door, stopped.

"I'm your elder now," he barked, "so show some respect."

"Only my greatest," Nana returned truthfully.

Sorahiko dragged Midoriya out of the door. Nana smiled. He'd push Midoriya as far as he could go, and then some, but not so far things would regress instead of progress.

"Your teaching must suck."

Toshinori had the self-awareness to wince. He scratched his head. "There are a great many things I'm not good at," he admitted, "but I've learned that teaching is one of them."

"And there are many things you are good at." She flicked his nose. "Tell me why Sorahiko said that."

"Ah…" Toshinori quailed. "Midoriya's had a much more difficult time adjusting to One for All than I did when I was still learning. He's— I'm not quite sure how to help him, really."

Nana raised a brow.

Toshinori himself had adjusted well to having it. When she'd finally given it to him—just a few months ago—he'd taken to it easily. Even though he'd been Quirkless, after he'd begun to use One for All Nana could hardly tell. He was a natural.

Nana had been a healer before she'd been a fighter. She'd used her hands to stitch together skin before she'd learned to curl them the right way to throw a punch. She'd learned to be both, and Shinroku had taught her when to use which.

Toshi, though.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

She looked carefully into his face. He was still fighting for it. Still going, long after she was gone. Nana could tell.

"You're a fighter, that's all."

He'd always been.

"So is Midoriya," Toshinori protested. His face sobered. "He's had it more difficult than me, I think."

Nana blinked, surprised. "He's Quirkless."

She hadn't realized. The scars on Midoriya's hand.

Toshinori smiled wanly.

"He was." Then he sighed. "But I fear the world just gets crueler. He's tough. A very strong spirit. I thought he could handle One for All, but if he uses too much of it, his bones break."

"Emotionally, maybe," Nana said, "but physically, maybe not."

She was thinking now, though. Midoriya had broken bones using One for All. Shinroku never had, Nana hadn't, and as far as she knew, Toshinori hadn't either yet. But she also knew that One for All just—grew stronger. How much sheer power did it hold now? How much power needed to keep getting passed on before it was enough?

Nana didn't kid herself. She was strong. Whenever she used One for All there was little in the world that could overpower her. And still she'd lost to All for One.

Had Toshinori? When it broke your heart, was it enough? When it broke your bones, was it enough?

"He's better than me," Toshinori sighed. Nana had seen the fond look in his eye when he'd looked at Midoriya. And she'd seen the way he looked at Toshinori back, like Toshinori had hung all the stars in the sky.

"You care for him."

"Of course!" Toshinori's eyes lit with a spark. "He's—I thought you would love him the same, if you ever met him. He's brilliant. Not just as a hero, but as a person… he's taught me a lot, too. After I met him I never wanted…"

"Don't you think I felt the same way as you?" She nudged him. "You came into my life at the right time, right when I needed someone… for a long time there I was lost."

"You…"

"I needed you," Nana said plainly. "Not just to be my successor, Toshinori. I needed you."

Toshinori scoffed. "And all that did against All for One…"

"Did you," she started hesitantly, "did you fight him?"

Toshinori sighed. "Six years ago."

Nana shivered, a chill trickling down her spine. That was such a long time. He didn't say it like he'd won.

She wet her lips.

"What…?"

"I'm sorry," Toshinori cried, sliding to his knees and lowered to the hardwood floor. "Nana, I'm sorry, I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it. I'm sorry I couldn't. I'm so sorry…"

She couldn't breathe, but Nana crouched down, pushing him back up with her hands to look at her. When he winced in pain she stopped, and Toshinori guided her hand to the hem of his shirt and gently lifted the edge.

Nana recoiled. She stopped breathing entirely.

Across his side a deep wound sat, old and scarred. It cracked outwards like glass, and the skin was dark and sunken there. Like something had been taken from him—more than blood and bone and torn flesh but more, more, more.

"I thought I won," Toshinori choked out bitterly, voice thick with unshed tears. "I thought it was over and I'd finally— and whe- when I fought him I thought if- if only you'd… and you kept me safe from him and I couldn't. Defeat him. It's like he's back from the dead."

Toshinori had always tried so hard. And he had always given everything he had. All Might was a name to her that meant he was willing to.

"Well, so am I," Nana said firmly. He didn't look at her, so Nana gripped his arm. "Toshinori."

He looked at her finally, and Nana lifted her hand to his face.

"You never met Shinroku," she said gently, "you never had the chance. He was killed a long time ago—but I loved him. He wasn't that much older than me, you know. He was more like an older brother than anything."

Toshinori blinked at her. She didn't talk about Shinroku much with him, though Toshinori had heard a few stories.

"Why…"

"When All for One found us, he told Shinroku he'd kill us both. He said he'd take Shinroku first, and once he was done he would kill me—unless I gave up One for All." She'd kept her voice steady, but now it shook. It'd been a long time, but… "I couldn't give him One for All, so he attacked. And Shinroku put himself around me and blocked him."

Toshinori made a pained noise. She did not need to know her own death to know she would have died for him.

"And Shinroku told me to run." Nana's mouth trembled. "He said he would beat All for One, but he needed me to live first. So I ran, and Shinroku died alone."

She scrubbed at her eyes. "For years I thought about what would have happened if I hadn't run, or if I'd gone back. It should have ended that day, but it didn't. And I had to keep going."

And Nana had kept going. She'd fallen in love. She'd buried her husband, and wept as she'd given up her child. And it had been so, so hard to keep going.

"It took me a long time to understand that it wasn't my fault," Nana said quietly. "And it took me an even longer time to believe that I had to run—because I would have died if Shin hadn't given me the chance to live first."

She pressed her forehead to Toshinori's. "I'm sorry I couldn't live. But I lost nearly everyone to All for One, and the hardest part is knowing that one day you're going to win and everyone who died isn't going to be there. That defeating All for One doesn't bring back Shinroku, or Tadao, or any of the people that I loved. But you have to live first, and there's going to be a day when it's all over."

And Nana hadn't been powerful enough, but she would bet she'd died wanting to live—to go back—to fight for him, her boy. That wasn't her fault either, that All for One had a power that spanned centuries. She wished she could tell Toshinori from the future and not the past.

"I couldn't do it without you. And I couldn't bear— to live…" A tear ran down Toshinori's face, and she wiped it away. "I don't know how to be strong enough."

Nana closed her eyes.

"You already are," she told him. "Shinroku's victory was giving me a few seconds to run. My victory was giving you a fighting chance. We were strong enough for that—and you… you are strong enough to defeat All for One."

"I wanted to do it for you," Toshinori whispered.

Nana took in a breath. "Don't do it for me," she said, and Toshinori startled. She smiled. "Don't do it for the dead, Toshinori. The dead can only sleep. Do it for the living."

She looked towards the door, and past that, outside, Midoriya was training to become better. Nana couldn't explain it. In the same way that One for All existed in each of them; in the same way that it ran, like a glittering thread, like fate stringing them together, she knew.

One of these days Toshinori would win the long fight against All for One. And maybe, just maybe, Nana would count amongst the living and be there to see it.