You Only Tell The Truth
4. If I Could Just Sit With You
Something draws the two of them together.
Not Izuku's schemes, or even his unregistered Quirk. It's stronger than that. There's a chain that links and spans between them; extending each afternoon as Shinso leaves to go home, as Izuku stutters a 'Goodbye', and Shinso just grunts in response.
It's not metallic in the same sense that most chains are, though their bond is just as firm as forged iron. Slowly it's weaving itself into a reddened string, binding both himself and Shinso together both inside and beyond the walls of Yuuei. It's organically woven – mutual feelings of spite, regret, and resentment manifesting in the bloody hue of a metaphysical rope.
Izuku hopes it's a good thing. That the rope looping around their hands, fingers, and necks is more than their shared negativity.
Izuku is convinced that no one but himself can see the progression of the red thread as the days go by. That no one can see how the rope trails itself up Shino's torso – right over his heart – the first time Izuku suggests that they should go and eat lunch together. Shino refused that day and has done so ever since.
So much for trying to be Shinso's friend.
The rope had trailed after him as the purple-haired teen slunk from 1-C's classroom. Izuku had debated following the trail he left behind, though he resisted. The rope had never pulled taut before, and Izuku was fairly sure that unless it frayed or one day snapped, that it would remain coiled about his own body indefinitely.
Sometimes people just needed their space.
Ironic, seeing as the two were bound together.
A week into his first term at Yuuei, and Izuku's certain that red strings are not supposed to fit with his own Quirk. He was far too similar to Cassandra, if not her very reincarnation. Disbelieved for knowing the future, shunned and ridiculed for attempting to help or announce their gifts to the world, betrayers of bargains who are punished, should they do just so, for eternity. However, Cassandra and Izuku's Sight were exclusive to this new development; Grecian in both their mythos and basis.
How did the so called 'red string of fate' wind its way into this situation?
Izuku wondered whether this was the instability he had felt when meddling with Fate all those months ago coming back to haunt him.
Perhaps, it was a latent ability within his own power? It had all started in China after all. (1)
Seeing phantom strings between himself and another person – and only that person, maybe that meant that they were 'future' strings? A bond that would occur and grow in intensity surely some time soon, or even just a potentiality of a bond like the layers upon layers of visions Izuku Saw.
It made Izuku's head spin just thinking about it.
Fate so far, had be relatively quiet. The need for him to make consequential choices regarding two conflicting paths of the future were no longer at the foreground of his ability. That, or the varied degrees of catastrophes were no longer as drastic.
Izuku was glad for it. His migraines had finally stopped.
Trying to take the train every morning with your vision blurred – both literally and by your own Quirk – was a nightmare. He'd been walking through his day like phantasmagoria was the only thing he could perceive. It got easier over time, of course, and certain things stood out to Izuku to help him along the way. Shinso's hair, the red of the rope, the back of Bakugou's head as Izuku turned and ran away from the boy in the hall (desperate not to be noticed), and the fluorescent lighting inside of their classroom that made the whole room look hazy and warm.
Despite it not being the Hero Course, Izuku could say he was enjoying his time amongst those in the General Education Department. A few were bitter, Shinso one of them, over the fact that they were not deemed to be suited to Heroics solely because of their physicality. Yet, for the most part, Izuku's classmates were welcoming and as warm as the migraine-warped fluorescent lights.
They didn't seem to mind that he was 'Quirkless'. They laughed it off whenever he ruined the plot of the upcoming chapter in a manga or tipped them off if something strange was going to happen that afternoon. It was wrote off as one of those 'Midoriya Things' he did; like how his face could change from expressive and open to a porcelain mask in a pinch, or the soft lilt of his voice that made his female classmates flock to him as though he were a wounded woodland creature.
Never once had his classmates made to harm him – emotionally or physically – and though Shinso was somewhat pushed to the side, the animosity initially present in the classroom during that first homeroom session had dispersed. All of those present in 1-C who had attempted acceptance into Heroics banded together; they were a family of potential rejects now.
Shinso remembered it though. Villain. Izuku could tell in the way his eyes would narrow; the subtle curl in the teen's lip and the darkened bags under his eyes.
However, within a school that lorded superior physical Quirks over others, 1-C was a sanctuary. A sanctuary that Izuku almost hated to leave at the end of the day.
Izuku waited, most of the time, for there not to be a single soul left in the corridor. Creeping his way through the halls and the grounds like a ghost. You could never be too certain when Bakugou would appear – even with Sight. Ever since that day (red eyes glaring – knowing that Izuku had cowered instead of saving him) Fate and Katsuki Bakugou did not like to intermingle.
It was as though Izuku was standing on a precipice whenever the blond was cornered; his toes curling over the ledge high above something deep and dark and frightening. Something that promised pain and unpleasantness.
– Was it guilt? –
Therefore, under the guise of staying behind to study in peace or catching a later train, Izuku would wait for the school to be totally vacated before he left. If he couldn't rely on his Visions for a warning, then he'd have to rely on his own two eyes, migraine or not.
For the most part, it worked.
How many people would walk through the halls like they owned them? Hands crackling with sparks and flashes and smoke, a cold sneer, ruby red eyes? What of the hair that surrounded Katsuki Bakugou's head like an explosive halo?
How could you mistake that? It was easy enough to avoid someone so long as you knew what – who – you were looking out for. And where to hide.
Safety was provided in the 1-C sanctuary. It was a holy place that, when inside, Izuku could eat his bento in peace. Often his classmates would come and chat with him after eating in the cafeteria – Shinso silently slouching into his seat when he returned too, trying to not look like he was interested in their conversations.
People were a useful blockade; a series of tangible flesh and blood screens to help hide Izuku Midoriya from someone who he knew would come and hurt him should the latter discover him inside this school.
The principal of Izuku's middle school hadn't pulled him into the office with Bakugou about their acceptance to Yuuei; only Heroics students were worthy of being commended, and Izuku, obviously, was not going to be a Hero. Bakugou didn't know Izuku Midoriya walked these halls alongside him. Didn't know he hid round corners, in bathrooms, and behind people to avoid confrontation.
Izuku didn't need Sight to know that should they meet it would not be pretty.
He needed to be careful.
He wasn't careful enough.
"Do you want to get lunch together?"
It was only one simple question, but it was enough to turn Izuku's world on it's side once more – just like clinging to All Might had. He could feel the red rope between him and Shino wind its way up his body; coiling and twisting and knotting into something irreproachable as he responded-
"S-sure."
The red string was a noose about his neck. Shinso stood from his desk, a smile or a smirk – Izuku couldn't tell, but whatever it was it was endearing – on his face.
"C'mon then, Midoriya."
The slipknot had tightened enough to choke him.
Izuku eagerly followed Shinso the cafeteria.
Throughout their lunch break, Izuku couldn't shake the sensation of eyes upon his body.
Like tiny ants crawling along his spine, raised hairs along the nape of his neck – it was an itch he couldn't quite scratch. The feeling would spike intensely at certain instants, to a sharp cooling stab to his spine that made him flinch.
Shinso kept looking at him oddly but chose to keep his silence. Probably, he'd decided that Izuku staring into space and trying to gouge his fingers deep into the itchy skin at the back of his head was just one of those Midoriya Things.
Izuku presumed he should be happy that Shinso had even talked to him, let alone invited him to eat lunch together. But the feeling was distracting and Shinso wasn't exactly a master conversationalist – neither was Izuku honestly, and he assumed probing Shinso for details about the teen's Quirk would be a taboo.
They returned to their classroom in silence.
The day progressed.
The final bell rung.
Izuku bid his classmates goodbye but made no attempt to follow them out. 'I'm starting the homework early,' he'd tell them if they asked. Shinso hovered by the doorway, mouth working itself up into a frenzy trying to find the right thing to say. Izuku tilted his head curiously, and Shinso scowled. The purple-haired teen shook his head, curling his lip and walking out of the classroom without a word.
With a frown, Izuku turned his attention back to his Maths homework. Successfully solving the problems on his page wasn't exactly the same as resolving those between him and other people, but it made him feel better if only for a short while.
Then the classroom door flung open, and the desks around his own set alight. Izuku, for all of his foresight, found himself splayed painfully across the floor with no idea how he got there.
His ears rang.
His already blurred vision became less focused and even more indecipherable than it had been recently.
"What the fuck are you doing here, huh-"
Hands grab at Izuku's collar, and sluggishly, the boy tries to pry them away. The fabric singes – Izuku can smell it whatawasteofashirt– and suddenly he's lifted off his back momentarily before his skull crashes against the floor once more.
Stars burst behind his eyes, and Izuku cries out – hands clawing in front of him. For protection? To fight back? For stability? All he knows is this isn't a visions – this is pain and hell does it hurt.
He doesn't know what is happening. He is panicked, and the world is dark and spinning, and the hands will not remove themselves from his collar. A weight holds Izuku's lower body down; his legs are useless, not strong enough to lash out or to try and unseat whoever is sat upon his torso. Izuku knows who it is holding him down, but he would rather not acknowledge it-
"-fucking shitty day, and then you decide to turn up! Coward-"
-because he'd been doing so well. Had been avoiding Katsuki Bakugou-
He can't breathe, the spinning won't stop, and now his Quirk has exploded into life. There are multiple ways this can end depending on Izuku's next moves; the next option more horrifying from the last.
A bloodied, singed smear of a body remains on the floor. Slowly it moves, piecing itself together, finding it's way home and forgetting about the carnage left behind. Someone will clean it up, but now he must tend to his injuries. He is alone. The pain is immeasurable. Perhaps he should try to sleep it off?
A trip to the hospital leads to more than just medical treatment. His mother is taken from him, because Izuku is too thin, too unstable to live in that environment anymore.
His childhood friend is unseated from on top of his body as Izuku finally gains the strength to do so – panicking he finds the nearest thing and launches it at the person who attacked him. His own friend. The person does not stand after the chair collides with their temple.
Things escalate. Jump jump jump jump jump – or… let him push you out of that window. Tell him what he wants to hear, infuriate him further, he'll do it. You won't have to suffer without anyone not believing you anymore.
Or –
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"…Shinso…" Izuku breathes, trying his best not to cry from relief.
Shinso is here. Shinso will help take the pain, the pressure on his body, away. The red thread curls around Izuku's body like a comfort blanket, and instantly, the pressure lifts. White light fills Izuku's eyes as he gulps down a big breath, oxygen sweeping through his body once more. It had been hard to breathe under all that weight.
"Tch," huffs Izuku's attacker. "This isn't fucking over, Deku."
The stomping footsteps move away after they kick Izuku in the ribs.
Shinso is blocking the only doorway.
A standoff ensues.
Katsuki's palms begin to crackle.
The sanctuary of 1-C is an illusion. People are not always the best thing to hide behind. Public spaces are areas where you can be easily noticed, especially if someone knows what – who – they are looking for. Katsuki Bakugou is no friend of Izuku Midoriya's anymore. His own bond with Hitoshi Shinso will either be the best thing to happen in Izuku's life, or the death of him.
Maybe it was better when Izuku had no friends to call his own. There were less people to watch over then, and no one would care if something happened to him. Shinso had better watch his back where Bakugou is concerned.
The two haven't moved from the doorway. Izuku wants to get to his feet, to try and stop them from squaring off, but his legs refuse when he commands them to move and something wet and sticky is pooling through the curls on the back of his head. He groans, twisting to his side and wincing as pain lances across his skull.
"I'll ask again: what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"None of your fucking bus-"
"Go and find the nearest teacher and tell them what you've just done."
Though Izuku cannot see it, Katsuki's eyes are blank and glassy. Shinso moves to the side so that the blond can pass through the doorway; he marches off on his task without a complaint.
"Was that your Quirk?" Izuku asks quietly from the floor.
Shinso tiptoes his way through the carnage, kneeling by the other boy's side. "Yeah. Don't move, your head is bleeding."
"S'cool," Izuku slurs. He coughs; "It's a cool Quirk."
Shinso squeezes Izuku's hand. His voice sounds wet and thick with emotion when he answers. "Thanks, I guess. Hey Midoriya? Can you do something for me?"
"Hmm… wha-"
"Stay awake."
Until three of Yuuei's faculty, a dazedly confused Bakugou, and Recovery Girl arrive at 1-C's classroom, Izuku complies with Shinso's command. When they take charge, Shinso lightly taps Izuku on the arm, and with the control broken, Izuku's eyes flutter closed.
(1) I'm referring to the Red Thread of Fate/Marriage (read into that all you want!) from Chinese mythology, along with he opening monologue of Boku no Hero Academia; "It all started in..."
This was so difficult to write. I lost my muse shortly after Chapter Three, so I started with another project called Heartbreaker? Pfffsh… that you might have seen published on here.
I knew this Chapter would be difficult to write. I wanted to emulate the part of Cassandra's myth where she seeks shelter in Athena's temple (so, Izuku's safety inside 1-C), but is defiled by Ajax inside said temple – which is a major taboo; no sex, consensual or otherwise, was permitted inside sacred places. Katsuki charging in and attempting to seriously harm Izuku was supposed to mirror this, with Shinso acting as Athena; firstly, diverting his eyes by choosing to walk away from the classroom, and by later returning to punish the perpetrator, just as Athena could not bear to watch Cassandra's defilement and later returning to kick arse with the help of Poseidon and Zeus when people refused to see Ajax for what he really was.
I feel like I really haven't done this enough justice, but hopefully I'm on the right track to finish this story in Chapter Five.
On another note, has anyone been playing/watching playthroughs of Detroit: Become Human? On one hand, I want to analyse the shit out of it, and the other, invest far too much time and money into cosplay costumes.