Secondhand
chapter four
Hosu was burning.
Thick smoke drifted between buildings, covering the sky in a greyish haze that could almost be mistaken for clouds in the darkness. Nana pressed her arm over her mouth, trying not to inhale any as she circled her opponent.
The Nomu was terrifying. It was unlike anything or anyone she'd ever fought—fast, much beyond human limits, and strong.
Built to kill All Might.
It shrieked, and Nana dug her feet back against the ground. She flexed her fingers, then balled her hands into fists and lunged forward. The Nomu leapt out of the way. She slid underneath, twisting, bending her knees.
One for All poured through her veins, coalescing as she jumped and tackled the Nomu around the neck. It screeched, louder.
She scrambled up the the broad back, boots finding traction, and kept a death grip around the Nomu's neck. It screeched again, claws reaching back and trying to swipe her. One missed, but another got her.
"Hey!" The Nomu spun, and Nana screamed, holding on as her fingers slipped. She scrabbled at its neck, legs swinging freely. Her stomach swooped.
"Get off!" a voice called. She didn't bother responding, hauling herself up. Now distracted, the Nomu crouched; she felt powerful muscles tense underneath her.
And then Nana, making sure to hold on tight, reeled one fist back and drove her knuckles into the exposed brain. It jerked; Nana hit it again and again, and it spasmed underneath her.
The Nomu stumbled back, and Nana lost her grip. She dropped, hitting the curb and rolling. Pain split across her side. It was only instinct that dragged her out of the way of a crushing weight that fell.
The other pro hero took the opening. Nana shielded her face as his body burst into flame, and the pro launched forward. As the Nomu clambered heavily to its feet, a wall of searing fire cut it off.
"You didn't listen to me," the pro hero growled at her. She scowled right back.
"I was fighting it," she replied, keeping her eyes trained on Nomu. A few more pros joined them in the area, reaching towards civilians and herding them towards safety.
"It doesn't matter," the pro hero snapped over his shoulder. Nana frowned at his back as he surged forward and sent another hot blast of flame towards the Nomu. His hands were burning white, the heat so much Nana could feel it on her face.
"I'll get this one, you go help somewhere else!"
She only paused once, but the pro who had taken the Nomu was strong. Fire hungered.
Nana turned her back on him, the fight still thrumming in her veins as she ran in the streets. Her mind locked down to her tasks. Nana kept her face and voice calm, smiled at lost children gently and spoke to the civilians, even as her heart pounded endlessly. In the back of her mind she remembered Sorahiko and Midoriya, two wispy figures getting further and further away as she'd dropped through the air. The screams of the passengers fading in her ears. Her name.
They would need help, too—the passengers. Hopefully Sorahiko would have stayed to assist them, and Midoriya with him. Nana made up her mind and headed in their direction, remembering the gaping hole in the train.
The sound of sirens cut through the air, but it was crying that stopped her.
Nana turned on her heel, navigating blindly. She heard the sound of crying like it was an invisible thread in her chest pulling her towards it, and saw a child wandering in the street. Alone and vulnerable.
She crouched down. "Hello," she said, smiling. He blinked at her. "My name is Nana—I'm a pro hero. Do you need help?"
He stumbled towards her, and Nana took him in: a crop of brightly-colored hair, pale skin, but no visible injuries that she could see. Then he lifted his arms towards her without a word.
"It's alright," Nana murmured. She lifted the child in her arms—oh, he was so small, and so light to hold. "It's alright, now. What's your name?"
"Dakao," the kid whispered in her ear.
"You're very brave, Dakao," she said, smiling. "Do you know where your parents are? Relatives?"
"I ran outside," Dakao mumbled, hiccuping. "I- I... I don't know. I'm scared."
"It's okay," Nana told him. "It's going to be alright. I'm here for you. I'll help you find your family."
Dakao sniffled. Then he said something quietly, and even holding him, Nana couldn't make out what he'd said.
"What was that?" she asked, scanning the mass of panicked crowds. But there, in the distance—police, corralling the crowds and trying to maintain control.
"All Might..." Dakao whispered. "He's not here."
"He'll come," Nana said.
And then she wondered.
She took Dakao to the police, holding his hand as they ran through a list and marked him down. But Nana stayed with him, telling him in soft tones about how brave he was, that everything was going to be okay. He was so young, his face so soft. His mother came bursting through a sea of people, crying; she cried harder when she saw Dakao and ran to him, gathering her son in her arms.
"Thank you so much," she said, looking at Nana, "oh, my, Dakao... you're safe, you're safe."
"Of course," Nana said woodenly, and tried not to feel like a knife was piercing through her heart. She smiled, and this, at least, was genuine—even though it hurt. "I know how it feels."
"Thank you," the mother said again, eyes gleaming, "thank you."
It was not the time to be hurting, but as Nana slipped through the streets of Hosu, she remembered the weight of the boy in her arms. Hands clutched at the back of her neck, at her suit. Another boy, a little older...
Her vision blurred. Nana stumbled and kept running. The smoke. It was the smoke stinging her eyes, and not the terrible pain that was lancing through her ribs, stopping her breathing.
"Nana!" She snapped her head to the side so quickly it hurt. "Nana!"
She lifted a hand to her mouth, relief sinking through her body.
"Gran Torino!"
He ran to her, grabbing her arms, looking closely.
"You're hurt," he said brusquely, "you didn't heal yourself."
"It's not that bad," she told him, and Sorahiko gave her a look. "Really, Sora. I'm saving my Quirk if someone— really needs it. I'll be fine."
Suddenly his gaze sharpened. "Have you seen Midoriya?"
She blinked. Midoriya.
"Midoriya?"
"I circled back to the train—I had to leave, there was another one. He wasn't there."
Nana turned and swore. She lifted a hand to her head, and Sorahiko gripped the other hand tightly. Dizziness suddenly made her knees go weak, but she kept herself standing.
"Nana," he said again. "Nana, I need you."
I need you.
"Okay," she said, and returned to herself. "Okay. Midoriya. What do you think... you know him better than me."
"Hardly," Sorahiko said, snorting, but he paused. "But he's like Toshi. Wouldn't be able to help himself if he saw trou—"
Nana's phone buzzed. She saw Sorahiko reach for his at the same time, and two blue screens lit the space artificially as they both looked at the alert.
A text from Midoriya—an address, pinned. Fear drenched her in cold water.
"What..."
"Hurry!" Sorahiko pulled her forward. "It's, damn him, it's Stain!"
"Stain?" Nana yelled at his back as he launched into the air towards a rooftop. She followed, gathering her strength and leaping up. They began to run, Nana following him from roof to roof, the distant, hazy lights of buildings poking through the smoke.
"The Hero Killer!" She caught a flash of Sorahiko's face. Real fear made his eyes gleam. "His friend... gah!"
For not the first time Nana wished she knew what was happening. The Nomu, Stain... it didn't matter right now, though. Whoever the Hero Killer was, he sounded dangerous—and Midoriya, somewhere in Hosu, was facing him.
They followed the pinned location down line after line of dark alley. The sound of them running, boots pounding against concrete filled Nana's ears; nothing was louder than the sound of her heart.
"Here!"
They skidded around the corner, and Nana stopped.
Just a moment, but then she sprung into action. There was a pro hero slumped against the wall, blood pooling around him. Ahead of him, three boys—Midoriya was there, good, Midoriya was alive—stood, holding each other up as they stood over a still figure.
"You idiot!" Sorahiko shouted, and crossed the alleyway. "Chasing after Stain?"
Nana paid him no mind as he began to chew Midoriya out. She knelt next to the fallen pro hero.
"You're hurt," she said, pulling off her gloves.
The pro hero laughed. "That's the least of my problems, I think."
"I can stop the bleeding," Nana told him, lifting his arm away from his wound. A large, gaping cut stretched across his side; she gritted her teeth and put her hands gently on either side.
"I'm sorry I won't be able to heal the wound all the way," Nana told him. "This might hurt."
"That you can do anything is a help," the pro hero said. The skin around the edges of the wound knitted together, and sweat trickled down the back of Nana's neck as she focused. Soft light sank between her hands, and the bleeding began to slow.
"Thank you," the pro hero murmured. She helped bandage it, and then pulled him up; they limped together towards the opening of the alleyway, where more pro heroes had appeared. She recognized the pro hero with the fire Quirk she'd fought with earlier, and the others that must have been his sidekicks.
"Endeavor," Gran Torino called. He jerked his head towards the three boys. "They caught the Hero Killer."
Endeavor swore.
Nana's gaze flitted back towards the figure on the ground. Now she saw him bound and still; behind him, on the ground, lay a katana and a knife, both bright with blood. Another sidekick came to assist them, and Nana let go, rushing over.
"Are any of you hurt?"
Her voice was sharper than she'd thought. Midoriya winced.
"Iida, Todoroki..."
"I'm alright," the boy next to him said. Shards of ice clung to his face, but he turned his gaze away. "I think Iida is injured the worst of all of us."
"I..." Iida said, "I am incredibly sorry for my unheroic actions—"
"Stop apologizing, Iida!"
Nana cut in. "Let me see."
"—as class president, I failed—"
Iida continued to apologize, but Nana stopped listening and focused. His hands were ruined. Blood stained his knuckles, but then Nana lifted her gaze and saw the wound in his shoulder. She healed it partially, her hands shaking. The edges of her vision ran white, but Nana gritted her teeth and ignored the slight tingling in her palms.
"Secure him," came Endeavor's voice. "He's done too much damage. We can't take a risk—"
"Everyone, get down!"
Nana threw her body over Iida's and shoved him down, shielding him. A rush of air sent her hair forward, her cape rippling with the gust of wind. A shadow flitted over them.
Midoriya screamed. Nana jolted and saw a twisting, struggling figure clutched in the claws of a winged Nomu, and then it clicked that he was screaming again, his voice growing more and more distant.
Sorahiko shot past her, and then Nana began to run too as the Nomu grew smaller and smaller. She pushed herself, ignoring the pounding in her head, vaulting off the street and propelling off the side of the building. Nana got to the rooftop as the Nomu rose past it, Sorahiko registering next to her. They both reached for Midoriya; suddenly, she felt more than saw Sorahiko turning in alarm at something behind them.
She leapt, arms outstretched; Midoriya's eyes met hers, and he reached back out. Her fingers cut through thin air as he mouthed her name.
Then a flash of movement. Someone leapt onto the Nomu's back, and it twisted, shrieking as a katana was driven into its brain. The silver blade glinted. Sorahiko was behind, tackling the Hero Killer. Nana wasted no time as the Nomu's flapping wings began to still. She raced for the edge of the roof and took off, snatching Midoriya out of the air as he fell. The wind tore a scream from him; she heard it in her ear as she wrapped her arms around him. One for All burst forth as they fell—
—then landed safely, holding onto each other. Midoriya sobbed something. Nana clutched him, and thought, Toshi's boy. Toshi's boy.
"Nana," he said, voice shuddering, "Nana, Nana..."
"I've got you, squirt," she told him. The Nomu thudded as it hit the ground, and Nana drew her cape up and blocked the both of them from the debris. Over the top she saw the Hero Killer stand unsteadily from its back, pulling out his katana in one smooth movement. She drew Midoriya closer. She could take him, she was sure. Sorahiko, who'd been after him, tackled the Hero Killer. The flash of a blade. She moved to fight him.
She didn't need to, though. The Hero Killer staggered. He took a step forward, breathing ragged, and then collapsed.
Sorahiko pinned the Hero Killer with a foot and then leaned down.
"He's out!" he called, and Midoriya made a small noise.
"Did it hurt you," Nana whispered, and Midoriya shook his head. He was trembling, though, so Nana took off her cape and wrapped it carefully around his shoulders as the others began to slowly transport the unconscious Hero Killer and the students from the alleyway. And for the second time she felt again that familiar feeling, the soft warmth of a body tucked in her arms.
"Nana," Sorahiko said. His voice was level and calm, but he flicked his gaze towards the growing group of people. Police were starting to gather, and someone had called the paramedics. A warning.
"I have to go," she told Midoriya, feeling like she had to say something. "You'll be alright, they'll take care of you, Sorahiko will watch you. I'll see you soon."
"You're leaving," Midoriya whispered.
"I'm not going very far," Nana said quietly, "but in the case that someone looks too closely or checks my hero license—or even, recognizes me… I just need to keep my head down for now."
"Yeah," Midoriya interrupted. His shoulders slumped, but he nodded. "I- I understand."
She squeezed his shoulder. "You're strong," she told him, "I'll see you very soon."
It hurt to tear herself away. She could not stop thinking about the feeling of him—the mantra in her mind that was of Toshi's boy. As she crept away unseen Nana remembered someone had to tell him that Midoriya had gotten hurt, involved with the Hero Killer. She walked a while, not going far as she'd told Midoriya and still able to see and hear the commotion, but far enough to take the attention off of herself.
She stopped. A wave of tiredness swept over her as she sat down on the curb and took out her cell phone. It was still open to the text Midoriya had sent; she closed it with numb fingers and began to punch in Toshinori's number.
She missed several digits and had to painfully retype it. Her fingers ached. She called.
It rang. Rang again, until Nana thought he wasn't going to pick up, but he did.
"Nana?"
"Toshinori," she sighed into the phone.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"Have you heard about Hosu?"
"You're- you're there? Nana, I'm- what happened?"
"We were on the train to Shinjuku," Nana said. She leaned back on one hand, but pain flared in her palm and she pulled back. "We… we…"
"Nana?"
She felt light-headed now; a bit like she was floating on the warm air that was wrapping itself around her shoulders. And tired.
Very tired.
Nana blinked and realized she was tipping forwards slightly, and Toshinori was saying her name, again and again over the phone.
"Nana!"
"Yes," she murmured. She was still there. "I'm alright."
"You—"
"—shouldn't worry about me," Nana finished firmly. "But your kid- Midoriya, he's hurt. Don't panic yet, it's not bad, but he's pretty shaken up, and two others as well. I thought someone should let you know."
"I heard…"
She bit her lip. "I doubt they're letting this get out, but," Nana paused, glancing towards where the kids were being loaded into an ambulance and lowering her voice, "those three students of yours fought the… Hero Killer, they called him."
"Stain," Toshinori croaked from the other end.
"Yes," Nana said quietly.
"I'll- I'll have to… to go— I'll come as soon as I can, will you tell me where…"
She drew in a breath. "I think," she said, as softly as she could, "your help is needed. And the appearance of these, these Nomu, as Midoriya called them…"
"Nana!"
She turned her head to the side; Sorahiko had found her, it seemed, and she lifted a heavy hand. He came to her, eyes flicking to the phone.
On the other end, she heard another voice briefly—"All Might… assistance…" and Toshinori's quiet sigh.
"I… please watch over—"
"I'll keep you updated, Toshi."
"And take care of yourself." His name was said again; he made a frustrated noise, then quickly added, "I'll call you back."
"You look like shit," Sorahiko said as Nana lowered the phone. She glanced at him sidelongs. It was not an unusual statement, not from him, but for the fact that Nana felt it that time.
"Yeah," Nana said. She lifted her heavy hands and flexed her fingers. Pain splintered under her skin. "I might have overused my Quirk."
"Nana," Sorahiko sighed. She was glad he'd kept the habit of keeping a few supplies on him when they went patrolling; now he took out a bandage and wrapped tightly the wound on her arm Nana had since forgotten about.
"Didn't I always tell you to heal yourself first," he grumbled, extending a hand, and Nana took it. She whined when the pressure hurt, then stood. Sorahiko let go of her hand and grabbed her forearms instead as she stood up, and she was glad for it; the world tipped briefly before everything righted. The tight grip Sorahiko held reminded her where she was.
"I never listen to you anyways," Nana reminded him, but she was aching and exhausted. Her hands were tender. She hissed.
"Come on, then," Sorahiko said gruffly, dropping one arm but keeping his hand on the other. "Someone's got to take care of you."
"I'm alright," Nana said, but he looked at her. She'd gotten used to taking care of herself; she'd gotten used to being lonely, lately.
"I'll be damned if I break any of my promises now that I've had a chance to fulfill 'em again."
She didn't know what that meant, and asked him as he briskly walked her to a waiting car. He nodded at the driver.
"What did you mean by that? Your promises…"
Sorahiko sighed.
Nana allowed herself to be swept up in the soft hum of the car and the clean smell that clung to the seats. It was a while before Sorahiko answered her, and he kept his gaze trained outside the window.
"I made a promise a long time ago," he said, then glanced briefly at her. Crow's feet at the corner of his eyes. "To Tadao, before he— before we lost him. Though perhaps to you it might not have been so long."
To hear his name spoken... Nana hadn't said Tadao's name aloud since his funeral. A quiet procession; it had been just her clutching Kotaro's small hand, or maybe he hers, and beside them Sorahiko. The thick smell of incense on a clear day.
She bit her lip to keep herself from crying out.
Sorahiko looked at her again but continued. "He wanted me to take care of you. In case anything happened to him, he... he asked me if I would, because he knew you wouldn't do it yourself. So I promised."
Nana lifted her hand to her eyes and pressed the inside of her wrist to one. She felt herself blink against it, saw half the world shadowed.
"I," she said, and the feeling overtook her, closing her throat. "I want..."
It returned, what it had felt like to hold that young child Dakao, and what it felt like to press Midoriya close to her, and she thought of bright-eyed Kotaro, wide-smiling Kotaro, hers. She wanted selfishly to see him. And she thought of the dimple that appeared on Tadao's left cheek when he smiled, his hands sliding over hers, the upward curve of his mouth as if he could not stop smiling when he kissed her, and kissed her. She wanted.
"Yes," Sorahiko said, and heaved a sigh. He reached between them and put his hand over hers. "It's the wanting that's the worst."
And she had lost— and he had lost— so Nana moved carefully, and put her head on his shoulder, feeling him shift to let her. Quietly she thought of all the things she had returned to, in the future, and all the things still she did not have.