Izuku could carry a large man with serious effort. Two young men, by that, should've been impossible—but even combined, Kirishima and Sero didn't make up Satou's sheer weight. It weighed on him, leaving Satou by his lonesome, but his current position was hard enough as is. Keeping Satou too would make it impossible. At least he was safe.
He tried to ask Kirishima another question, but the boy'd fallen unconscious. That made things more difficult, but not impossible. With his newfound realization, he had the energy to spare.
The boys' makeshift stretchers turned into makeshift sleds as Izuku pulled out of the alleyway. Both boys were in desperate need of medical attention, and that thought fueled his next plan.
Smokescreen flew from his heels as he pulled the boys through the ruins. They hampered his full running speed, but he still found himself navigating the area faster than he had the first time. Once you've seen one collapsed building, you've seen them all. He braced himself as he turned a corner. For a split second, he twisted Danger Sense's knob, and felt for all his classmates. The impact hit like two sledgehammers meeting his skull in the middle, but he shook off the pain. Izuku'd had worse.
No one was actively in mortal peril, but the thought wasn't comforting. There should be no peril whatsoever, mortal or otherwise. Beneath him, his legs churned a little faster.
He'd lost track of Mimic, but he doubted the man would fly under the radar for long. They needed to escape as soon as possible, before whenever that drug-addled thug dropped the hammer. His existence hovered over Midoriya like a phantom, but he shook off the anxiety. There was no use worrying. Not when he could dedicate his brain power to anything more helpful.
Since the very first day he'd learned about Danger Sense, he'd never been around much danger. The most lucrative practice he got came during his entrance exam, when the Zero Pointer came lumbering down the street. Other than that, he only got to practice in small, confined areas. Before, he'd been fine with that—his mind was a muscle he was hesitant to sprain—but the situation forced his hand. He had to reinvent the way he used the quirk.
There was a singular advantage to everyone being in danger, Izuku learned. As awful as it was, he was almost thankful—with the looming threat of Mimic and wild monsters on the loose, he could use the rebounding information almost like echolocation. With the latest use of his quirk, he'd managed to identify everyone's location.
There were two groups, ignoring some stragglers, and the largest cluster was only a few streets over. He could go there, drop off Sero and Kirishima, then move at full efficiency—but the second cluster felt a little off. He flexed Danger Sense one more time—a softer exertion, focusing solely on the smaller, further cluster—and his eyes went wide.
Their situation, fine just moments ago, plummeted.
The choice to pivot directions wasn't hard. His feet beat against the uneven floor as he raced away from the main class, his patients in tow. He tried to hold onto his targets using Danger Sense—but the action was like putting a strainer under a faucet. If he let the water continue to flow, the strainer filled, and he went brain dead. However…
He imagined, for a moment, Danger Sense. Amidst the ocean of One for All, how did it relate? Was it some offshoot river? Was it the coral hidden beneath? Was it the clouds, born from its waters?
No, he realized. It wasn't the clouds, nor the waters—nor the corals or fish who swam within. It was the water cycle itself—evaporation, condensation, precipitation—it was One for All's sensory organ. As complex as an eye, as multifaceted as a tongue. It wasn't the simple dial he likened it to—it was more.
Izuku tried to dive into the quirk, to devour it and understand it all—but Four was lost in the forgotten castle like the rest of them. For a moment, he cursed Nana, he cursed Seven, because if she hadn't shown him that kindness on the train, he could go and talk to him now. He could grill him for a higher understanding, ask him every question under the sun—he wouldn't have to pioneer a quirk someone else mastered.
With a hard, frustrated huff, he cleared his mind. He didn't have the time to ponder One for All now—he could feel his classmate's lives at stake.
He refocused on the knob analogy, then the faucet, and did what he always did: work with what he had.
Instead of focusing Danger Sense on his friends like a high-beam, he applied it like a strobe light. If you flick a faucet on and off, the strainer would never fill, and the water would pass through, so long as it didn't fill too quickly. Under his focus, one knob turned into two, he twisted one, but not the other—and he felt his world tilt a little. Two knobs became five, and he dialed them individually. He dived into the experiment even harder, and images flickered through his mind.
Large, pink wrist guards. A black cloak at his side. Between his eyes, a long beak. Pink palms. Dark, indigo walls surrounding him—and through the window, a single, awful iris.
Izuku woke up. He peeled his face from the stone wall of the alley. He tried to take a step forward, but his knee buckled, and he fell back into the wall. Behind him, Kirishima and Sero were still in their Blackwhip sleds. His vision felt fuzzy.
He tried to flex Danger Sense again, but the only sensory information he received was pain. Alright, he thought. Strainer got a little too full.
Pushing off the wall, he staggered back into a walk. Each step hurt a little less than the last, and after a few seconds, he managed to get back into a jog—and then a full-blown sprint. The images burned into his retinas as sunsports. Even the black iris in the window. He didn't have time to ponder what he'd seen, what he'd learned—he was out of time, and he had to move.
With a small, gentle prod, he twisted the dial of Danger Sense, but only got stabbing pain. Leaving it alone, he tried to recall where his friends were by memory alone, but the pain dulled him. His gut squeezed as he remembered snipits—the indoors setting, the black iris—but he simply couldn't grasp where the building was. With the action inside—he was boned. Every building looked the fucking same.
Worst of all, his lungs were beginning to burn. Likewise, his shoulders were beginning to numb from Blackwhip's exposure. He took off his mask to breathe better. Using Five's quirk over long periods of time was draining, let alone when he was carrying 300 pounds of luggage. It was hard to say when the sensory deprivation would become debilitating—but that didn't matter, if he couldn't find his friends in the first place.
He continued to search through alleys, always aiming for the general direction of his friends—but it was obvious. Izuku was lost. After a minute, when the backlash began to loom over him like an ominous cloud, he resigned himself. Turning, he let the sleds fade so he could rest. The second Blackwhip faded, exhaustion slammed against his chest. Sagging against the nearest wall, he held himself steady as pins and needles devoured his back.
Below him, a low groan filled the empty alleyway.
"...W-what…" Sero said, propping himself up by the elbow. Dried blood cracked and fell away from his eyes as they fluttered open. Izuku suppressed a shuddering breath as the boy's eyes landed on Izuku's own. The sleep evaporated off Sero's face as he shot upright—immediately followed by a deep, regretful moan. "Oh fuck… too fast, too fast."
"Careful," Izuku said, still leaning against the wall. "Pretty sure you're concussed. Try not to move."
Heedless of his warning, Sero heaved, cursing under his breath, to his knees. He hovered there, struggling with his sling. Izuku staggered forward, seeing his resolve, and lifted him by his elbow. The effort sent new waves of pain down his shoulder, and Izuku found himself side by side with Sero as they used the wall as a crutch.
"...Where are we? Where's…" Sero began, before catching Kirishima's sleeping form beside them. "Oh shit—what the hell!? What is that doing in him?"
He lumbered over to the boy's body, his steps growing less uneven and more sure as he leaned over the boy. His good arm reached out for Kirishima's gut.
"Don't!" Izuku said, his voice cracking as he shoved himself off the wall. He slapped Sero's hand away from the rock-shard in their President's stomach. "He's fine! He's okay! Just don't pull it out, and the bleeding won't kill him."
Sero turned to him, squinting. What little Izuku could see of his coal eyes was uneasy. He made to go for Kirishima's wound again, but Izuku snatched his whole wrist. The boy tried to shake him off, but his strength was still pitiful.
"D-dude, let go! C-can't you see there's a-a fucking rock in him?"
Izuku squeezed Sero's wrist as he put on his most secure expression. He leaned forward until Sero's coal eyes were his whole world.
"Kirishima. Is. Alive. The rock is keeping him alive." Izuku said, staring into his eyes. He gave the boy's wrist one last squeeze before taking a step back. Sero blinked, and a little of his directionlessness faded. Instead of Kirishima's wound, the boy's hand settled on himself. It found purchase on his bandages, pristine except for a square inch of soaked crimson. This time, at least, he didn't try to pull off the wrappings.
"I-I… We're…" Sero said, muttering as his hand trailed down his face and landed below his chin. He cupped the side of his neck, squeezing like he was bleeding there and not his forehead. "Where… What's going on? Why am I hurt? What—where have we been?"
Stiffness vacated Izuku now that Sero stopped moving. He didn't have the strength—nor the mind—to restrain the boy any more. Sliding to a knee, Izuku labored over a breath. Blackwhip's backlash was climaxing—but he couldn't just ignore Sero, not when he looked so confused.
"We're in the USJ, Sero, and I need you to listen t-to me," Izuku said, gritting his teeth through a wince. He could feel the blood pumping in his back, filling the veins and arteries where all traffic ceased for the sake of Blackwhip. It left him pondering, for a second, his blood's effect on the quirk—but just like with Danger Sense, he simply didn't have the time to experiment. Even now, as his body ached and slaved over its own recovery, his classmates were fighting for their lives. Proto-Nomus could be anywhere. Hell, Mimic could be anywhere—even right below his feet. The thought was sobering. Setting his jaw, Izuku heaved himself over to Sero and snapped under his chin.
"We're under attack. Aizawa and Thirteen are fighting for their lives. No reinforcements are coming. 1A is scattered in the Ruins Zone. Monsters are on the loose—and they want us dead. Do you understand? I need you lucid, right now."
Sero blinked, and an expression flickered over his face. His nostrils pinched, his eyebrows knit, his lip curled, and he exhaled with the consistency of curdled milk, nearly choking. The fingers holding his neck turned to claws as he squeezed. He made an ugly noise in the back of his throat.
"We're… we're under attack? At—at U.A.? M-monsters?" Sero asked. He slumped forward, staring at the ground. What little Izuku could see of his face was not good. "At U.A.? T-the safest school on earth? How—who?"
Something shifted in Izuku's chest, hearing the whine in Sero's voice. Leaning forward, he squeezed the boy's good shoulder.
"The who doesn't matter. What's going on here is evil, and evil can't be quantified. What matters are the facts—the bare-boned facts. They got in via a teleportation quirk, and while I don't know why they're here yet, I do know they're fine with killing the weakest of us, by their definition. That's what happened to you—one of their monsters attacked you. Kirishima did everything to fight it off for you, at the cost of himself—but he'll be fine, if we can regroup."
Sero's breath audibly caught in his throat. His chin jutted forward, revealing the whole of his pale, weary face. Tears were streaming down his scrunched eyes.
"We're—oh my god, holy f—U.A. is under attack?" Sero said, and at this proximity, Izuku could see the way his undilated pupils squeezed together. His nose swiveled away as he looked towards Kirishima—and Izuku's eyes caught on a little white mark peaking through his collar. He couldn't catch another look before Sero yanked himself free of Izuku's grip.
Sero's stomach might as well have been a blackhole as he curled in on himself. His fingers, claws on his neck, earned their moniker as they began to dig into his skin. He fell to his knees.
"Oh my god, holy shit, oh god—oh god I'm going to die. I'm going to di—" Sero said, before his eyes flicked up and landed on Izuku. He touched his forehead to his knees. A terrible sob ripped through his throat. "We're all going to die. Kiri is going to die because of me. I'm getting him killed. I'm getting you killed. I'm killing myself. We're going to fucking die—"
"No!" Izuku said, falling beside him. He didn't shake the boy, but he damn near almost. "No, Sero, no one's going to die. We're going to get you and everyone else out of here. First, we'll—"
Sero's sobbing hiccuped, the only break to his small whine, and he threw up. He didn't stop crying through the vomit. Izuku pursed his lips, but ignored it for the sake of rubbing circles in the boy's shoulder. Tears dripped from his face in a river, mixing with the stomach acid and half-dissolved oatmeal.
"Oh god," Sero said, hiccuping again, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so…"
"It's alright, man. This isn't your fault, everything will be fine. Just breathe, and we'll—"
In a burst of movement, Sero scrambled to his feet, shoving Izuku away.
"How!? How are you so damn—" Sero started, before a hiccup stole the strength of his question. "How are you s-so calm? Kirishima is bleeding out next to us! I thought you of all people would be more sensitive, b-but…"
Izuku only stared at Sero. His face scrunched, but a wild anger replaced the panic. Tears continued to pour down his face, even as he knuckled away a stream. Slowly, Izuku rose to his feet.
"Calm?" Izuku asked, and the drums in his ears nearly drowned out the word. Their song hadn't stopped playing in the whole of this conversation. Every second was a struggle to hear Sero speak. He glanced at his own hand, then touched his face. It traveled across his features, ghosting over the stone-hard lock on his jaw. It visited the groove between his eyebrows, the solid blooms of his lips, and the flared resolve of his nostrils. "Am I calm right now?"
"Yes!" Sero cried, releasing his neck. He swung his arm outwards, gesturing at Izuku with all the precision of a spaghetti noodle. "I mean—fuck, man, am I insane? My arm's broken. I'm fucking fucked. I'm useless. And—and then there's you! You don't even—fuck! I-I—there… There was like fifty of 'em! That's a hundred arms! Mine's—mine's fucking broken, and you're fucking missing one! How are you just—just standing there, worse off than me, and fine?"
A shiver walked up Izuku's spine, starting in his lumbar column and spreading out and upwards. It twitched in his nape, then leapt onto his nervous system like from a moving train. Spreading through his nerves like a static wave, it met his fingertips before rebounding. It all happened in a second, but the journey was a lifetime.
He turned over his hand. After a single squeeze, he inspected the four red crescents buried in his palm. Izuku worked his jaw, and with two resounding clicks, raised his eyes to meet Sero's.
The pins and needles faded. With a twitch, Blackwhip sprouted from his back and scooped Kirishima. He blinked, and a massive swell of information bludgeoned his brain. Automatically, he compartmentalized each node of danger and turned his new danger-map over in his mind. Battles raged around the Ruins Zone, and he was just standing there, taking a break. The majority of 1A was at the exit, but they hadn't made their escape yet. At their heels was a trio of monsters.
The rest revolved around a single building, two blocks away, like sharks.
Sero, tears still stream, twitched. He looked upwards, like something caught his attention. He tapped his ear.
"W-what was that? What was that noise?" Sero asked, but Izuku shook off the question. The war drums were far too loud for him to even pretend he could hear it. In that brief window Sero looked away, he closed their gap.
"Look at me, Sero," Izuku said. The boy jerked at his sudden appearance, but quietly followed the request. He wiped a final tear from his eye, leaving them red, but dry. Izuku forced the muscles in his face to relax. "I'm sorry if I'm coming off like I don't care. I do. I do care—I care so much that I'm almost fucking deaf. I want to cry, too—I want to break down and scream and I want this to stop—but listen to me. It's okay for heroes to cry—but it's our unique job to wipe those tears and get back in the saddle. It's our job to carry the weight normal people can't. It's our job to be better, to be stronger."
"But how!? M-midoriya, I think you're cool. I think you're incredible for having made it this far, for making it into the best school, for being this skilled. Really. But you're half as strong as you should be. I'm half as strong now, with this useless fucking thing," he said, gesturing to his sling. He bit his lip. "They're too much for us. We're not strong enough. You're missing an arm, man—and fucking hell, I'm not missing anything, a-and—a-a-and I feel so much weaker. I-I don't know how you've made it this far, like this. I'm… I-I just don't understand how I'm so much weaker than you. I got Ibara hurt. I couldn't even reach you when I wanted to help. I-I almost fucking got Kirishima killed… H-how? How are you keeping it together?"
He said nothing, for a moment. His eyes absorbed all of Sero, not just his outward appearance—they peeled away layer after layer, burying deep into the boy. He saw the fear, the anger, the desperation—he saw the guilt, and he saw something else, something he couldn't quite describe.
Izuku thought of One for All as Sero clutched at his armor. He clawed at his chest like he could dig into his very own heart and lay it bare. The tears were long gone, but the trembling whine that echoed every word Sero spoke was strong as ever. Sweat matted his bangs to his forehead.
What Kirishima helped him understand earlier also came to mind—the revelations of fear, the realizations of strength. His mind followed memory lane, going from Nighteye to his mom to Gran Torino—and it even flickered past the golden silhouette that never left his mind for long. It passed through the Colosseum, and Eraserhead, and the trials he faced in 1A.
More than it all, however, the oppressive weight of reality swallowed his brain whole. Overhaul told his monsters to kill the weak—and standing before him, as harsh as it was, he could see none weaker. But… he didn't have to be.
The back of his brain tingled as the situation two blocks away peaked. Time was up.
"Sero," Izuku said, looking straight into the boy's eyes. "The only person who can decide you're weak is yourself. Strength… it isn't lost with a broken arm. It's lost when your faith in your other arm breaks. If there were words for this, I would use them—but I can't tell you your truth. I need you, right now, to tell me yourself. Maybe you feel weaker than ever. Maybe you are. But that doesn't matter. Our world is falling apart—our friends are in danger, and they need every ounce of help they can get. We're heroes, do you understand? We're stronger than anyone, even if we aren't. I know you wanted to help earlier, to defend our teachers—and I know we all worked to stop you—but it wasn't because you weren't strong enough. It's because our class needs your strength more than they did. Now, you feel like you're running on empty, like you're useless, like you're weak—but none of that matters. Do you want to help them?"
Sero blinked.
"...Yes."
"And are you ready to risk everything if it means keeping them alive?"
He looked to the side—but not in shame. His eyes drank in Kirishima's sleeping form, and he nodded.
"Yes."
Izuku clapped him on the shoulder and stepped past him.
"Resolve is a strength too, Sero. So, if you have it, what's your decision? What do you think you are?"
"I-I…" Sero began, but the words caught in his throat. Izuku, standing at the edge of the alley, gave him a look. Dread crept through him as he felt for Danger Sense.
"We're out of time. Shit's about to get really real, real fast." Izuku said.
"W-what?" Sero asked, his eyes turning to saucers. "How do you know?"
Izuku's eyes turned towards the ruined horizon. The war-drums beat as loud as ever—but there was something under it now, a deafening, roaring noise as baritone as it was loud. A sudden dagger of pain cut into Izuku's brain as the danger, already fearsome, magnified tenfold. In a show of force putting all else to shame, one of the nearby buildings exploded. The rubble soared high, nearly brushing the sky dome. It fell back down to earth, but an even greater noise dampened the gargantuan impact's sound.
Instead of a monstrous surge of Proto-Nomus, or even that explosive-bandaged man, what burst from the building's former roof was a shadow as black as night and as large as a crane. Its deep voice echoed through all of the Ruins Zone, bouncing off every surface twice as it laughed.
"Haha! Freedom at last!" The massive shadow bellowed, its black, bird-shaped skull highlighting its burning yellow eyes. Each huff of its laughter threatened to knock Izuku over.
Izuku's internal map of the USJ warped inwards, everything converging onto one location. Like a blackhole made of pure fear, it absorbed everything else in the world, spaghettifying all other trials and dangers. He blinked, trying to turn all the dials in his brain—but no matter how sensitive he became, it all revolved around the singular dark being not two blocks away.
His heart in his ears, Izuku steadied himself. One for All screamed in his gut, begging to explode like he was a shaken soda bottle. Instead of falling into that desire, however, he set his gaze and gave Sero one last look.
"Because I made the choice years ago."
When he took off running, he heard footsteps behind him.
[x]
Fumikage kept his cloak tight around him as he leapt over rubble. He didn't have to turn his head far to see directly behind him, thankfully. When he surveyed who was following, he was still able to see straight ahead. It saved him from twisting his ankle more than once.
Ashido leapt over the rubble even easier than he did—and Uraraka wasn't far behind.
Breath tore at his lungs, burning his bronchioles and scorching his throat—but he kept running. He couldn't stop, couldn't slow. Ashido, among the three of them, was fastest. These dark alleys, however, were too dark for her at certain points. His eyes, on the other hand, were far more equipped to see in the dark. Thus, it fell to him to lead them—even if Uraraka, the furthest behind, was beginning to gain on him. Fumikage'd never ran this hard in his life, and he wouldn't have, if not for—
A street over, the screaming cry of the unseen made itself known. It's horrible call was hog-like—a squealing, snorting thing—but that wasn't the worst part. Other awful sounds joined its chorus. Clickings, squawkings, mewlings—hell, even chirps—they all flooded his ears like a hell-born zoo.
Something jerked under his cloak. Crossing his forearms over his cloak's seam, he pinned the article closed.
"Fumi, let me out!" Darkshadow whisper-shouted. The void-born creature wormed its way up his chest, threatening to spill out of his collar. He pinned his beak to his chest, pinching the opening closed. "You can't keep running. Let me fight them! I can win, Fumi, we can win!"
"Shut up." Fumikage muttered. He turned left down an alley, in the opposite direction of the monster's screams. This alley was darker than the others—thinner, too, but longer, and consequently would put a greater distance between the monsters and them. In his head, he tried to visualize how he could maneuver back to the main class, but navigating kept his too preoccupied.
"Low pipe!" He said, ducking under a rusty cylinder. Once he righted himself, he slid aside. "Loose floor, hug left!"
Turning a corner, a beam of artificial moonlight highlighted the end of the alley. Between it and them was a large green dumpster—and with the small width of the alley, that meant climbing instead of going around. They didn't have time for that, though—not when the alley was too dark for his friends to even see the footholds.
"Behave yourself." Fumikage said, muttering under his breath. Grabbing the corner of his cloak in a fistfull, he pulled it open. Darkshadow didn't waste a second—from the very instant it sensed Fumikage's intentions, it began pushing and pulling and throttling its engine beneath his cloak.
The moment he set the quirk loose, Darkshadow burst from his cloak like a tsunami bulldozing through a coastal bay.
Fumikage didn't have a say in what Darkshadow chose to do—but he hoped the quirk would humor him when their lives were at stake. Thankfully, it didn't seem that dark. It shot straight into the air, its dark claws popped, before swinging down with the full force of its darkness-enhanced strength. The dumpster crumpled into a pancake, its steel frame screaming a metallic death. The noise was so jarring that Fumikage actually stopped to cover his ears. Ashido nearly fell over him as he stopped, and Uraraka too.
"What the hell was that noise!?" She asked, when the creaking metal went mute. Fumikage opened his beak to reassure her—but with a sudden, angry pull, he lost his balance.
"Yes, yes, yes!" Darkshadow said as it pulled Fumikage along. He tumbled over himself as the quirk pulled him towards the end of the alley—a sheer brick wall, a dead end. His world was upside down as it pulled him over the destroyed dumpster. Fumikage tried to control his flight—but in his wild tumble, his shin flailed out and struck a sharp steel protrusion. The scream that tore from his throat hurt his lungs almost as much as the boiling-hot burning on his shin.
He inhaled through his teeth to drown out the pain, but it only fueled his next strangled cry. Only when the quirk reached the brick wall did he slow and recover control over his body and voice.
"D-dar-darkshadow! Cease your fucking wiles!" Fumikage said, his voice seeping out his beak like Ashido's acid. He clutched at his damaged shin, and his hands came away wet. "You've gone t-too far. Come back."
"Holy crap, Tokoyami? Are you alright?" Ashido said, catching up behind him. She crouched and felt around his leg, but he pushed her wrists away. His wound was near-invisible in the dark, there was nothing she could do. He struggled to his feet, but the pain overloaded his nerves and he sagged. The pink girl caught him before he fell.
"No need, Fumi! I can protect you just as fine!" Darkshadow said. Flying into the air, he peeked over the brick wall.
"What?" Fumikage said, struggling to thread his arm around Ashido's shoulders. "What the hell do you think "protecting" even means!? What—"
The low creak of metal stole the strength of his voice.
"Ocha? That you?" Ashido asked, turning around and taking Tokoyami with her. He wondered, not for the first time, how limited her nocturnal vision truly was. It was a wonder to him when she took a half-step forward. His healthy leg felt as weak as his injured one.
Uraraka stood stock-still between them and the dumpster. Still, as close as she was, even her figure couldn't blot out the massive silhouette behind her. It was blacker than the darkness of the alley. Like a gorilla, it stood with huge shoulders planted like oak trees in the ground. Steam rose from it back in waves, in rhythm with its breath. Its face, wide at the cranium, narrowed the lower it went, ending in a pointed beak. Fumikage ran a tongue over his teeth.
It was like looking in a circus mirror on pure hallucinogens. He squeezed Ashido's shoulder, and prayed to every god he could comprehend and every demon he couldn't for her to understand him. She didn't take another step forward.
A rock tumbled from a nearby roof. Fumikage, quick as his neck allowed, glanced up and back down. He suppressed a shuddering breath. Four pairs of eyes were looking down on them.
He didn't know why they weren't attacking. In fact, he didn't know why they were after them in the first place—but now that they were here and not attacking, his unease was worse than ever. Were they sport? Were they food? Were these monsters simply enjoying the taste of their fear in the air?
"Why…" Uraraka began, slowly turning from them to face the dumpster, "Do I hear breathing?"
When she twisted all the way around and met the creature's form, however, she made no reaction. No spark of recognition. It was still too dark.
"Ochako Uraraka." Fumikage said, and his voice cracked in a way it hadn't since he was thirteen. "Hold… still. Very, very still. A creature of the night is about two feet away from you. There are… four more above us."
A deep, bone-twitching shudder ran down Ashido's spine. He felt every inch of her fear. Despite their disagreements on her personal hobbies, he'd never felt more kindred with her. His grip on her shoulder tightened.
"D-did they m-make it through Midoriya and Satou?"
Fumikage swallowed a thick globule of saliva. He didn't want to think about that.
"We need to leave," he said, before glancing around. Every ounce of his spirit dedicated itself to praying for Darkshadow to remain docile. His eyes strained through the darkness of the alleyway, scouring every inch for some sort of escape. It didn't take much to look behind him. His vision perspective was quite wide, as an avian—but it meant little, here, in the alleyway's deadend. There was nothing, unless they all grew wings and tried flying away.
Then again, the rooftops were lined with death.
His eyes shot past Uraraka's shoulders as her posture shifted. It was hard to see, with the drooling monster taking up so much space, but he caught a glimpse. An emergency exit hugged the building on their right, with a burnt-out candescent sign hanging above. If they could somehow get past this—
The lurch in his gut nauseated him enough to kill the scream in his throat. The thread that connected his lifeforce to Darkshadow's strummed—a feeling he'd wrestled with all his life. Sometimes, in their best moments, their instrument played a beautiful, cohesive song. However, at other times, Fumikage would intertwine his fingers with the strings without strumming—yet the music would still play.
"I understand, Fumi!" Darkshadow cried, before blowing past him faster than he'd ever seen the quirk. His speed whipped his feathers from back to front, and even as he anchored his one good heel to stop him, he felt himself pulled along with the quirk. "I'll kill this beast for you!"
"No! Stop—"
Like a snake in the shade of a great mangrove, Darkshadow slithered low, hidden in the dark of the rubble, before bursting into form right below the monster's chin. His fist, the size of a man's torso, came rocketing up and into the creature's beak. Despite not being a creature of conventional matter, the shock of force rippled through their connection. The movement was so fast Fumikage didn't have time to release Ashido—but it wasn't over.
As soon as Darkshadow's knuckles made their imprint on the creature's bottom beak, they came back down in a screaming meteor. Their connection whipped Fumikage to the side, and then again, and again, and again as Darkshadow threw blow after blow into the abomination.
"W-w-what's g-going on-n-n!?" Ashido asked as he held her through the sharp jerks. Darkshadow's transferred momentum slammed them into a wall, but Tokoyami did his best to shield Ashido with himself.
"Haha! You're not so strong, are you!?" Darkshadow said as balled his fists into another haymaker. This time, when he smashed into the creature's cranium, it slumped. Limbs intertwined, Fumikage and Ashido got to their feet—but they couldn't take the chance Darkshadow gave them. They could only barely hold their balance as the quirk nearly lifted Fumikage into the air. Darkshadow strained to fly, to meet the monsters looking down on them. "Come on, you bastards! I can take you all on!"
The only thing holding the quirk back from spreading its wings and taking off entirely was the pink girl holding Fumikage down by his good ankle. Through their bond, Fumikage could feel traces of his partner's feelings—his rage, his ferocity, and his battle-lust flooded Fumikage. That wasn't all, however—what overshadowed everything, from the deepest pit of his partner's darkest shade, was euphoria. His partner wasn't even lucid anymore.
"Damnit, Dark…" Fumikage muttered, before fumbling for his back pocket. "You know I hate doing this…"
In the split second between retrieving the gray cylinder and pointing it at his partner, Darkshadow had a moment of clarity. Still straining to fly away, he turned back down and widened his faux-eyes. His shadowed imitation of Fumikage's own face struck a cord of sorrow in his chest. He really hated doing this.
"Wait, Fumi, we can talk about this! Just let me beat them up, and you guys can—"
"You never learn, buddy. You never learn…" Fumikage said, before flicking the flashlight on. The device had some serious lumens behind it, and instantly lit up the whole of the alley, Darkshadow included. Darkshadow, as high as his strength soar in the dark, was little more than a hatchling under intense light.
Fumikage fell back to earth with a his little will-o'-the-wisp in tow. With his shin, the landing hurt like all hell, but the adrenaline in his gut kept him going. Re-linking arms with Ashido, he pointed the flashlight towards the emergency exit.
"C'mon, let's get inside!" Fumikage said, and began the three-legged race. With Ashido, they stepped over the behemoth's hindleg and got to the door. There was no telling how long it'd be out. The back of his neck burned with electricity as he felt the whole weight of the moment on him. Grabbing the handle, he made to pull it open—but nothing happened. Nor when he pushed. "Hell—I-I think it's stuck!"
"Hold the flashlight steady! Let me try." Ashido said, shrugging him off. She leaned down to inspect the lock, fiddling with it as Uraraka joined them. Glancing above them, Tokoyami saw that the monsters hadn't moved—or, rather, the ones still up there hadn't. Six eyes judged him, instead of eight.
The ground shook as the fourth landed on top of the dumpster. Thinking fast, he turned the flashlight aside, twisting the cone's knob so the light focused into a narrow beam. He aimed it right in the eyes of the monster. An awful, pained screech echoed through the alley. It roared in its blindness, rearing back on its hindlegs and slamming its face into the brick.
"Holy fuck!" Uraraka said, seeing its face for the first time. "T-that was right next to me?"
"No," Fumikage said, widening the light's scope and pointing back where the other creature layed. "That… one… was…"
All that remained of the first creature's body was a vile, black stain.
"Hey, I kinda need the light here!" Ashido said, her fingers still fumbling with the lock.
"No…" Darkshadow whispered, his voice tired. "Turn it off…"
Fumikage couldn't listen to either, however—not when a monster was slamming its face against the wall, over and over again. Each impact shook the dust off the building's mortar.
"Where is it!?" Uraraka asked—but Fumikage had nothing. The incredible lumens of his flashlight dilated his pupils, and anywhere his flashlight wasn't pointing was now blind to him. He pointed the device everywhere he could—down the alley, towards the entrance, to the opposite building's rooftops—but he couldn't find the monster Darkshadow took down.
Then, a stench filled his beak, choking him. A drop of water hit his shoulder, as thick as a golf ball. Another hit his forehead. He went to wipe it away, but it sizzled on his bare skin. Flapping off the bulk of it, he took a small whiff of the residue. The same smell.
"Ashido…" Fumikage asked, turning only enough to see her. "You aren't dripping, are you?"
"Oh!" She said, and then the sound of a wet slap met his ears. "That's a good idea!"
He swallowed, and pointed the flashlight straight up—not up at the opposite building's rooftop, nor at the skyline—but straight above them. Another drop landed on his shoulder, straight from the mandibles of a beak-shaped jaw. Its claw-like fingers dug into the brick and mortar, holding itself straight above them like a hell-born spider. Beside them, the other monster ceased its blind self-mutilation.
Behind him, where Ashido still slaved over the door, he heard a chemical hiss, followed by a pop.
"Got it!" She said, before opening up the door. Neither he nor Uraraka moved. Instincts flared in his chest, adjacent to his connection with Darkshadow—and he came to understand something. With a thumb, he widened the flashlight to consume the whole alley. The scope was wide enough to see both the roofline, the wall above them, and the dumpster.
A shiver jumped down his vertebrae as his feathers ruffled. The one above him wasn't the only one drooling.
"What are you g-g-gu—what the fuck!?" Ashido said, turning to see why they hadn't moved. Beside him, Uraraka was shaking.
"On the count of three, we move as one." Fumikage said. The monsters' visages were fading with the strength of his flashlight. As strong as it was, it was the device's downfall. It was a shock-collar for Darkshadow, for the rare times the quirk went out of control. It wasn't meant to stay on for more than a few seconds at a time.
"W-what are we doing?"
"Three…" Tokoyami began, before shifting his thumb over to the flashlight's killswitch. "Inside. Melt the lock behind us. …Two."
"How the hell are we going to get out? We'll be trapped!"
"...Anything is better than here."
He glanced around. With his flashlight dulling faster by the moment, they were running out of time. The sun was setting on their chance. Of course, with dusk, the rising moon breaks the act even—but his friends weren't creatures of the night. Not like him.
Still, they looked at him—and he felt a certain warmth flush through him. Fumikage was not a leader. He wasn't a professional, like Mr. Aizawa, nor did he trade his whole childhood for this lifestyle, like Midoriya. His organizational skills were nothing compared to most of the class, let alone Ibara's—and if he was honest, he doubted he'd ever have a sliver of Kirishima's charisma.
Something stirred in him.
Hell, even the pink girl at his left, Mina Ashido, was more of a leader than him. Though he hadn't known her for long, he'd seen her—social, responsible, reasonable… charming. His cloak, heavy around his shoulders, only grew heavier with responsibility. He wished he could just drop it onto her's, where it would be in much better hands—but he couldn't. His talents were few and far inbetween—but they were deep in the heart of his most intimate companion. The darkness gave him strength.
He hit the flashlight's killswitch, and everything went black. "One."
Ignoring the pain in his leg, he leapt into the building, taking Uraraka with him. The second he turned tail, the alleyway filled with the terrible cacophony of nightmarish cries—but that was fine. Behind them, Ashido slammed the door closed and sealed it with a sizzling splash. Uraraka leant him her shoulders, and together, they limped deeper into the building, Ashido on their heels. The building shook as something hit the door, but that was all. Iron bent, but the door never tore, never broke. A snorting, squealing scream shook the hinges—but it held.
"Holy hell, they pounced right as we moved! Lucky. Fuck—what even are they?" Ashido asked as she caught up. Fumikage stumbled over something—his pupils were still dilated, but he was beginning to make out the room's dimensions. Ashido continued, cursing all the while. "Hell, who even are their owners? Damn, what the hell is even going on at all? Shit, where the fuck are we?"
Fumikage took a deep breath as his shin flared up in pain. A small shake traversed the building as something hit the roof. Overhead, a tile came loose on the ceiling and fell. He fumbled around his belt for a bandage, but only found splint tape.
"Quit wasting breath. Anyone have a bandage?" Fumikage asked. Uraraka, with her blue-gray complexion, nodded. He plucked the offered wrappings out of her hand and situated himself as fast as he could—but found the task nearly impossible in the dark. He debated, for a second, asking Darkshadow's help—but then came to his senses.
With this light level, being even darker than the alleyway, the first second he prodded Darkshadow would be the last second he would have any control over himself. He ended up tying an ugly, inefficient knot, and prayed it stayed. Fumikage tested the foot on the floor, but it still hurt. Looking around the slowly-brightening room, his eyes settled on Uraraka's silhouette. A lightbulb went off in his brain.
"Ura? Can you take my gravity?" He asked.
"Oh! Yeah, hold on…" Uraraka replied. A moment later, he felt the soft pads of her fingers bounce off his beak. Perhaps it was avian instincts, or perhaps teenage embarrassment, but the moment she touched him, he got queasy. The sensation of his gravity fading was almost painful, and the feeling of a girl's hand was nauseating. Still, he swallowed down the bile and cleared his throat. When he tested his foot again, it only hurt a little, which was good, but he also began floating away, which was bad.
"Woah!" He said, before hands grabbed the corner of his cloak. Ashido brought him back down to earth. As soon as his feet touched the floor again, she slipped her fingers through his, and he stayed grounded. There wasn't enough energy in his body for his face to heat up, though the baby feathers around his beak might've itched a bit. "Thank you."
A loud, piercing bang echoed through the building's halls as another squealing scream slipped through the cracks in the emergency exit's door. A floor above them, a window shattered and a hefty weight hit their ceiling.
"Heavens," Fumikage said, glancing up. "We need to get moving." He stepped forward—but with zero gravity, his sneakers couldn't grab any traction. Ashido didn't move with him, either, and just stared into the vague darkness adjacent to his face.
"Dude, we can't see." She said.
"...Dude, they can't see." A voice in his head echoed.
"Shut up."
"Who are you talking to?" She asked.
"...Who are you talking to?" A voice in his head echoed again. Darkshadow dug around under his clothes, under his skin, inside his skull. Their connection twinged as his anger spiked.
"Damnit, Dark, just quit it already. You've done enough." Fumikage muttered. Tugging on Ashido's hand, he pulled her in the direction of the hall. "Ignore me. Just walk where I tug. Take Ura's hand. We'll find another exit and start running while these monsters keep looking for us in here."
"Why not just use the flashlight?" Uraraka asked. He sighed.
"It's almost dead, and I think I'll need every spare second."
"Dead!? It was on for like a minute tops! Did you forget to charge it or something?" Ashido asked, her dark purple eyebrows raised.
"It was half-strength coming here. It isn't a… hero thing. It's my personal flashlight. Sometimes, Darkshadow acts out, like he did earlier. Light keeps him tame, dark makes him go wild. Hence the flashlight."
"...Fuck you..." Darkshadow said.
Another squeal echoed down the hall, and they fell silent. Guided by his hand, Ashido led them down the hall at a medium pace. The longer they spent in the dark, the more his heart began to squeeze. His connection with Darkshadow twinged more than once, like when the building shuddered. Instincts that weren't his own but also his own reared to the front—but they were still weak from the light exposure. The longer they spent in darkness, however, the stronger those instincts grew.
Inversely, he also grew slightly more comfortable. He could see, after half a minute, and he could finally identify why the building felt so odd to occupy. The halls were longer than he thought at first—linoleum tiles, LED overhead lights, and abandoned linen carts told him they were in a hospital.
Even if monsters weren't prowling around every potential corner, the place would still give him the creeps. Long, decrepit halls left a foul taste in his mouth—and despite him knowing it was all set-dressing, it still disturbed him. U.A. really knew how to give a place an abandoned vibe. It made him jumpier than he was proud of.
He almost ripped a hole in the wall when he heard a heavy, indelicate footstep in the room next to them. Broken glass grinded under foot as something shifted in the room. Feelings flooded him at the noise—ranging from fear to hate to even an odd, displaced affection. Still, he swallowed it all down. If he acted on every impression Darkshadow gave him, he'd be incarcerated. Fumikage wrestled the feelings, and Darkshadow's willpower, under control.
Tugging harder than ever, he brought Ashido around the hallway's corner and far away from that room. The feelings still grew within him, but the desire to commit to them weakened.
"Where do you think those monster's come from?" Uraraka asked at one point, her voice quiet.
"...I couldn't say." Tokoyami said. "They're a little… uncanny, however."
Uraraka didn't reply. The statement hung in the air, heavy and awkward.
"...Ok fine, I'll bite. Are you okay, Toko? They—they kinda look like you on drugs. Hard drugs." Ashido said at last, cutting the tension.
"Drugs as in I take steroids, or drugs as in you take hallucinogens?"
"Like we both take methamphetamines."
"...Yeah. They're quite upsetting to look at, if I'm honest."
"Well, don't worry. You're way more handsome than those gorilla-bird freaks." Ashido said, before squeezing his hand. An air bubble made its way down his throat. Nothing she said was funny, nor reassuring—but it was just so… inane, that for a moment, he couldn't help but relax.
"Gee," he said, before turning forward. They were coming up on another T section in the hall. They'd been walking for a while, and he was beginning to get a good feeling they were close to an exit. "That means so much."
They turned the corner, and that air bubble popped—and it burned. He crushed Ashido's grip in his own, and she skidded to a stop.
Down the end of the hall, a silhouette strafed back and forth. Like a dog, it dragged its beak across the floor. It shuffled around, snorting and sniffing the ground. With a massive black hand, it tipped a linen cart over like cardboard. The movement was slow, but the impact was loud, redoubled by the thin width of the hall. It blasted past their ears—and despite knowing it was coming, he couldn't help himself. Nor, it seemed, could his near-blind companions.
Their collective yelp echoed down the hall, and the monster froze. There was at least thirty meters between them. His brain scrambled for a plan. The creature was huge—and probably fast as hell—but it was huge. The breadth of its shoulders nearly hugged both walls, and there was no world in which it could rise to its full height indoors. Its musculature filled up nearly every inch of the hall, and Fumikage came to understand something. If this long, thin hallway was the barrel of the gun, then they, the three teenagers, were not the bullet—they were the target.
And this monster, with its bulging hindlegs, already pulled the trigger. He cursed everything as he yanked the flashlight out and pointed it at the monster. The girls only got a glance before he shfited, and pointed it down the opposite hallway.
"Run!" He said, before tugging Ashido away. She only hesitated for a second, but that was enough for the creature. It exploded into movement, its hindlegs pistoning themselves as it began pounding its extremities into the floor like a gorilla-shaped comet. It flew down the hall with a snarling scream, covering half their gap before they even moved. Ashido screamed and pulled Tokoyami off his feet entirely.
They tore down the hall as fast as they could, only saved by the occasional obstacle. As little as a linen cart meant to them, being nimble, even the least bothersome debris debilitated the monster's speed. It had no choice but to crush or swipe aside everything in its path. More linen carts went flying, obstructive doors flew off hinges, and collapsed ceiling-beams blew to dust as it barreled through everything.
It took Fumikage everything he had to hold the light steady—but it didn't matter. Already, his stomach was twisting with anxiety—without his flashlight, his failsafe was gone. If he didn't have his failsafe… he didn't know which was worse. Darkshadow's freedom, or monsters chasing his friends.
They turned a corner, weaved through a surgeon's office, and slipped into an adjacent hall, but it was never enough. The monster didn't bother to navigate with any care. Instead, it bust down every wall in its way. By the time they got to the new hall, Fumikage's flashlight beeped red.
The last thing they saw before it went out completely was a crack—lightning shaped, but wide enough to let a man pass. Freedom. Then the flashlight went dark—and something eclipsed their escape.
This creature wasn't too different from the last. Its skin was black as midnight with a coarse, matt complexion. Dark saliva dripped from its malformed jaw just like the rest—but this one was a little more… disproportionate. The beak was more heron-like than eagle-like, with spindlier limbs and thin, corded muscles—and sprouting from its back were two flightless, featherless wings.
Behind them, the monster bulldozed through a door, flinging the concrete at them. Fumikage lost what little choices he still had. There were no more doorways—only a rock and a hard place. His thread to Darkshadow, which he'd painstakingly suppressed, strummed. It became clear to him, as his life partner exploded from his hand, that he was a fool.
His strength didn't come from the darkness. Darkshadow's did—and Fumikage was nothing but a pitiful jailer.
When Darkshadow back-handed the creature back through the wall, Fumikage could only sigh, a resolved ache in his chest.
"Yes, yes yes! Thank you, Fumi! I knew you could trust me!" Darkshadow cried. Their connection, usually only a few inches in circumference, grew exponentially. It consumed his arm first, restricting his movements first before taking his shoulders next. His opposite arm was next, and Tokoyami could only thank the heavens he released Ashido before it consumed her, too. Like dual-wielding sentient gauntlets, Tokoyami felt himself punch, and the scrawny beast exploded out from their escape-hole, carried out by a truck-sized fist. "Let me take care of you, Fumi! I'll protect you!"
He swallowed down a twin pair of sobs—once when Darkshadow encased his bad leg, and one final time when he closed his vision went black. The last thing he saw before his partner's madness overtook him was Ashido and Uraraka's stunned, tear-stricken faces far below him.
When he opened his eyes again, the world was crystal clear. His eyes, good in the dark as they were, couldn't compare. Singular dark shades to him were now multifaceted—nearly bright. Nothing escaped his—their, notice. Their size was titanic, and their only point of reference was the puny hospital. Never before had they been this large, this strong. They looked down at their hands and laughed. Strength filled their limbs, and their voice shook every last particle in the Ruins Zone. The very air bent to the will of their lungs. Shadows across the whole zone quivered as their king took their first step.
"Ha ha ha! Freedom at last!" They said, looking across the area. From this height, they could see everything—not just the whole of the Ruin's Zone, but all of USJ. Fumi's class gathered around the exit, pathetically fighting off the little dogs biting them. They considered going to fight them—but then a roar interrupted him. Opposite Fumi's friends, towards the dome's center, was something that made their dark little heart skip a beat.
Across the facility, another titan battled against one of Fumi's teachers. This one, however, wasn't like them—it was just a man. Granted, a large one—but one that only came up to their waist. It radiated strength and power—but… it was a little far. They thought for a moment, laughed, and shrugged. They were the strongest thing under the dome—if that man was worthy, he'd come to them. Looking back down, they saw Fumi's friends—little insects—doing their best to fight off the two little dogs that attacked Fumi.
They thought back a moment, remembering Fumi's little leg, wounded by the machinations of those little dogs. Or… wait, was that what happened?
They groaned, clutching their head. Something welled up in their heart, an emotion—but a mute one, as far as they were concerned. Pulling back, they threw their whole back into launching their skull straight into the earth. Their beak broke through the hospital's roof, crushing through several floors before piercing the ground floor. They pulled away and licked their lips—digusting. Something screamed from within their mouth—but it wasn't their throat. It was a small, pitiful noise.
They chewed.
The scream—the snorting, squealing scream—ceased. It tasted like shit, and they spit it out. Their spit traveled far, and made a small dust cloud half-way across the Ruin's Zone. They didn't spare another glance its way. Below, now with the extra peep-hole, They gazed down at the little war at his feet. Fumi's friends dodged and weaved the little dog. It bored them, however—they all seemed so slow—and so small. So pitiful. So weak.
Something caught the edge of their vision—a scurrying, mangey little pup running away.
"Don't run!" They said, before taking a step forward. Half the hospital came with him, but he snatched the little pup by the hind legs. Tiny feminine screams went ignored. Palming the struggling little thing, they inspected it—the way its puny muscles quivered, the way it lowered its head, the way it curled in on itself, revealing its squishy, stupid brain.
They licked their teeth. Oh yeah, they remembered. Tasted like shit.
Aw well, food was food. One bite couldn't hurt.
With a single, tiny bite, they bit the lower half of the creature off and began chewing. It screamed a terrible scream—an annoying thing, more so than anything.
Annoying enough to warrant an immediate removal, in their opinion.
Clutching their first with all their strength, they reared back and threw the fleshy, screaming mass with all their strength. The pup left their hands screaming—but not from their throat. The air turned scarlet, the displaced atmosphere crying out in alarm even as it broke through the dome's roof. A moment later, only a tiny, pup-shaped hole remained.
"Heh," they said, and they couldn't deny the euphoria that infused their chest. "Heh-heh. Haha. Hahaha. Muahahaha! That was brilliant! Fun! I'm a hero!"
They felt their face morph into a crescent-shaped cavern. They'd—he'd—they'd never had more fun in their—his—their entire life.
"Do you see, Fumi's friends!?" He—they—he said, and they—he—they relished the sheer power their voice carried. The world stood still. Fumi's friends froze. The odd little abrasion in the northeastern quarter ceased squirming. The invader's little champion quit pummeling Fumi's teacher. Every ant, every pup, froze. It was perfect. They were the strongest. No one could ever hurt Fumi again. "I am the greatest!"
With both titanic hands, they gripped the corners of the hospital and heaved each half over their shoulders. They shook the hospital like a doll house, letting loose the little pups still hiding away—and when the last little pup fell screaming to the earth below, they—he laughed.
In one toss, he threw the first hospital-half at the invader's champion, and threw the other straight at the pups swarming Fumi's friends.
The hospital crashed through USJ's entrance, scattering the little ants and pups whilst making a gargantuan hole in the wall. The impact shook the whole dome, rocking loose chunks from the dome's ceiling—but that didn't matter. He could lift the dome with one hand!
He turned, then, to Fumi's little friends. The puny little girls were back to back, swarmed by the precession of little pups around them. Glancing aside, he saw how the first hospital half crushed their invader's giant champion. Pity. He couldn't have challenged Darkshadow with such little strength.
Looking back down, however, he felt his smile return. Two girls, three monsters. Five toys remaining.
[x]
AN: I don't like this chapter too much, mechanically. Content wise, I'm pretty damn satisfied. I'm pulling from so many arcs right now that it's really just a blast, seeing 1A going through it. And, hell, I probably failed for most of ya, but I'd wager I made you care about SERO, even if only a little. So that's cool.
Darkshadow! Poor Toko. Poor everyone else, too, really. Blud is like godzilla in this mf!
I'm trying to think of more things to say... uhhhh I'm very glad someone noticed Kirishima using the Rock's signature move! I actually achieved einstein level genius when i cooked that up lmfao.
tune in next week for... *Checks notes* ... low-stakes class shenanigans. ... yea right.
Review!~~ (We're SOOOOO close to 1000 favorites... please...)