For a long moment, the shock of Kugo's appearance left both Izuku and Mina silent. Then, finally, the spell broke.
"What the hell are you doing here, Kugo?" Mina asked. "I thought you were with Mezou and Tsu!"
Kugo snorted, though the look on his face was pained as he stepped further into the room. "I left," he said curtly. "Once they fell in with the Outcasts, I figured I was better off taking the exit. Wandered around for a bit, then ended up here, with a couple of crazy ghosts."
Behind him, Craton snorted. Mina's face fell. "They're with him?" she asked quietly. Kugo nodded.
The expression on Mina's face wasn't a recognizable emotion; it was more like confusion over what emotion she should be feeling. On some level, she supposed she wasn't surprised; she knew Mezou, and could imagine how he had felt to learn that Fumi was still alive. But on the other hand…it meant that he and Tsu weren't a safe haven anymore. She didn't dare trust them.
In the vacuum left by Mina's silence, Izuku stepped forwards. Kugo's eyes flashed as they passed over him, in his damaged and bloody but unmistakable hero costume, but he said nothing.
"Would you be able to get us back to the Underground?" Izuku asked.
Kugo glanced over at Craton, who was still sitting in his armchair, his expression utterly unreadable. If he was surprised at all by the fact that Kugo, Izuku, and Mina knew each other, he didn't show it. Instead, the legendary hero simply nodded once.
"This is what you wanted from me?" Kugo growled-though he was looking at Craton as he spoke. "I ain't a taxi service."
"No," the old man agreed, that cryptic half-smile still on his face. "You're a crazy ghost, like me. Angry, bitter, and purposeless. And now an opportunity to be more has fallen into your lap."
"And if I don't take it?" Kugo snarled.
Craton raised an eyebrow. "You won't, Gang Orca," he said mildly. "Men like you don't change often-but when they do, they run for the light like no other."
Kugo opened his mouth to argue, but all the anger seemed to drain from him, his immense body sagging as he sighed deeply. He seemed a different man, then-a smaller, kinder man, though none of his menace or power had been lost.
"Damn you," he grumbled as he turned back to face Izuku. "Fine, I'll do it."
Izuku nodded once. "Thank you," he said. Turning to Mina, who had remained quiet and lost deep in thought, he asked, "You ready to go?"
There was a long, expectant silence, but she seemed too distant to answer. Finally, Mina took a deep breath, looking away from Izuku. "About that," she said quietly, "I…don't think I'm leaving. Not just yet."
Izuku froze, surprise and confusion plain on his face. "What do you mean?" he asked.
Mina hesitated; she continued to avoid his gaze, leaning against the wall and turning away from him. Izuku stepped closer, offering a hand. Without looking, Mina relaxed, and let her fingers lace into his, squeezing tightly in gratitude for the wordless support.
Kugo and Craton exchanged glances, and without saying a thing, Craton tapped his foot against the ground. Great stone walls divided the room in two, splitting Mina and Izuku off to give them some privacy.
"I want to find Fumi," Mina whispered once she knew they wouldn't be overheard. "I want to ask him…why. Why he left, why he did what he did."
Izuku tensed, just for a moment; ghostly lightning flickered over his skin as he remembered seeing Mina standing between him and a formless monster made of shadow.
"He tried to kill you, Mina," Izuku said in a strained, worried voice.
Mina nodded, still looking away. "Technically, I was the one who started it," she said, a bitter chuckle slipping out. Slowly, she turned, though she still didn't quite seem able to meet Izuku's eyes; it was as if she knew exactly how disturbed her words were making him. Quietly, she added, "Besides…I got in his way."
Izuku opened his mouth to speak, to scream "no," to tell Mina she shouldn't say things like that. But the words died in his throat.
Mina looked up at him, and smiled softly, weakly. "I know what I sound like," she said. "And don't get me wrong-I would do what I did again. A thousand times. But I also knew, when I did it, what he'd do. Maybe I couldn't put it into words…but I knew. And I accepted it."
Izuku felt something wrong boiling up in his gut. So softly it was nearly a whisper, he said, "You sound like you've already forgiven him."
Mina smiled, a wry, bitter thing that made her eyes glow with venom, smoldering so fiercely it stole Izuku's breath from his lungs. "Never," she hissed through gritted teeth. "I'll never forgive him. But I can understand him. Every bit of his anger, every bit of his demand for justice-I understand it all. I agree with it all, despite what he did. That's different. He had no other choice. I left him with no other choice."
"There's always another choice," Izuku shot back. "You can always choose another path."
Mina shook her head, laughing brightly as tears flickered in her eyes. "Never change, Izuku," she whispered. "I love you, abovegrounder…but you're so naive. He didn't have a choice. Or if he did, it was between me and thousands of people who love him just as much as I ever did. Sometimes, there's only one way the story can end."
Izuku shook his head, but he didn't dare deny it. Instead, he whispered, "You don't have to do this, Mina. Please, come back with me to the Underground. Where I can keep you safe."
Mina smiled again. "You know as well as I do that there's no place in the world that's safe for me," she told him. "And I've survived my whole life down here. I'll be fine."
"And if Fumi tries to kill you again?" Izuku asked, voice trembling.
Mina shrugged. "I don't plan to just let him do that," she replied. "I'll be fine, Izuku. I promise."
Izuku nodded. He didn't like it…hell, he actually fucking hated it. But he knew better than to try and stop Mina once she'd made up her mind. He knew how capable she was-and how much she needed this. Seeing how badly she'd been affected by Fumikage's appearance had terrified him; even now, he wondered if she'd ever recover. If she really thought she had a chance to speak to him…
Mina drew in closer, letting Izuku wrap his arms around her. "I will come back, you hear me?" she murmured. "I am not running away. I promise. I'll come back."
Izuku nodded. "Be safe," he whispered. "Please."
She smiled, and tilted her head up to kiss him.
They broke apart. "I'll…let Kugo know," he said quietly. He turned, heading towards the wall Craton had put between them and him.
He didn't get two steps before Mina said, "Izuku…one other thing."
Izuku paused, then turned back, just in time to see Mina's eyes burning with an emotion he simply couldn't name.
"The next time you two fight…you're going to try and kill him, aren't you?" Mina asked softly.
Izuku felt frozen. Empty. A thousand hooks dug into him, pulling him apart, yanking him in a thousand directions. He didn't know what to say.
"Heroes don't kill, if it can be avoided," he said, knowing it was a lie-knowing that somehow, some way, Shigaraki's death could have been avoided, if only he'd been better, fought harder, been smarter and stronger and stopped him sooner.
Just for a moment, Mina's eyes flashed with the kind of heat that could tear a man's soul to pieces-the kind of heat Izuku had fallen in love with in the first place. "That's Atlas talking," she said, a sneer plain in her voice. "And I hate him. What do you think, Izuku? What do you want to do?"
Weakly, he answered, "I…don't know."
Mina raised an eyebrow. Her golden eyes bored into him, ripping away everything he'd ever tried to hide. "Do you want to?" she asked. "Not Atlas-you. Izuku Midoriya. The man you really are, underneath the smile and the cape and all of it. Do you want to kill Fumi?"
Izuku let out a heavy breath, licking dry lips. Again, he repeated, "I…don't know."
The rawness of that admission hurt as it left his chest. This was Mina's brother. The man who had saved her, had taught her how to live. And now, Izuku might have to kill him for the good of the Underground.
Would they survive this? Would she ever forgive him?
Would he ever forgive himself if he had to become a killer again, stain his hands with the blood of a man who he couldn't even bring himself to hate?
Mina stepped closer, fingers brushing across Izuku's lips as if in a dream. Her expression was just as torn as Izuku's; she clearly didn't know what to think either. Her own emotions were just as conflicted as his. On some level, she was clearly aware of the contradictions she was creating, asking the question even as she left to face the man they were talking about. But then, that was what she was. A contradiction. A thing teetering between worlds, belonging to neither of them.
Both of them, torn, broken, scared. Clinging to each other as the darkness closed in.
"You don't have to lie to me, Izuku," Mina whispered, so soft he barely heard her. "I'm not scared of you-of any part of you, even the parts that scare you. I saw your face when he attacked me. I know the look you had in your eye when you saw me cry."
"It's like Faultline said," Izuku whispered, resisting the urge to screw his eyes shut, to escape that blinding golden gaze. "He's right. He is. What I want…what I want doesn't matter."
Mina leaned in close, eyes blazing with ghostly fire for just a moment. "Fuck what Faultline said," she spat. "Fuck who's right and wrong, fuck everything. What do you want to do?"
Izuku closed his eyes. Darkness welled up in his chest. He knew. He'd always known. From the first day he woke up and stared down at the hands of a killer, he'd known it would happen again. That sort of rage, that sort of power-it was intoxicating. And it had come for him again.
"Yes," he said, raw and pained. "Yes, dammit."
He waited for the hammer to drop, for Mina to turn away in disgust. She had to.
But once again, he forgot where she came from. He forgot the kind of life Mina had lived.
Impossibly, Mina smiled. It was not a pleasant sight. It was broken and twisted and bitter-but those were all things she was, too. And Izuku loved her all the same-loved that hateful smile. It was the smile of a woman who could only laugh at the broken shards of her heart.
"I won't stop you," Mina said, an admission so raw her voice cracked as she spoke. "Not this time."
Izuku's eyes widened. He began to blurt out, "But-"
She put a finger to his lips. Her eyes were so broken they were like specks of starlight, rather than golden suns. A thousand-thousand fragmenting pieces of glass.
"I know what I'm saying," she murmured. "I know what I'm asking. And I know what it makes me. The thought of choosing between you…it's tearing me in two. But dammit, I have to choose. I hate myself for it, I know what it says about what I really am…but I am choosing. I love you, Izuku. And if it comes down to you or the first man I ever trusted…I choose you."
Izuku stared at her, speechless, his heart burning for the woman he loved, in all her broken, hateful glory.
And wordlessly, he nodded.
Mina smiled again, sad and tender. "Come back to me," she murmured. "And I'll come back to you."
She kissed him, and then the walls came down.
When they did, Izuku and Mina met Kugo and Craton's eyes, and they nodded at the same time.
"I'm headed to the Underground," Izuku said, steel in his voice.
"And I've got unfinished business down here," Mina agreed.
Craton nodded. He stomped his foot, and the earth trembled. Two new tunnels yawned open behind him, leading in opposite directions.
"There's no time to waste," Craton told them. "Tokoyami will be preparing for war-you need to, as well."
Mina and Izuku pulled apart, reluctantly and agonizingly. With one last backwards glance, Mina slipped into the tunnel Craton had made for her, and vanished into the darkness.
Kugo and Izuku stood before their own tunnel, and Izuku met the dead god's eyes.
"There won't be a war," Izuku told him. "I won't let it happen."
Craton shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. "Oh, to be young and arrogant again," he chuckled. "I have no doubt you'll try, Atlas. Perhaps you'll even succeed. But remember-we are, all of us, only men. It took me eighty years to learn that. I can only hope you're smarter than I am."
He extended his hand, and Izuku shook it.
"Thank you," Izuku said quietly. "For saving our lives."
Craton's smile became more earnest. "It was nothing," he said amiably. "Just an old hero unable to kick his habit. It's been an honor, Atlas."
"Likewise, Craton," Izuku replied.
When the handshake ended, Izuku and Kugo stepped into the tunnel, and vanished from view. With a wave of his hand, Craton sealed the tunnels, leaving no evidence that they had ever existed.
Craton sighed deeply, his hands shaking as he wrapped them around his gnarled wooden cane. The darkness closed in around him, like the embrace of a lover, old and familiar. He ran a hand across his wizened face as he opened a new tunnel-one that ran lower, to where the woman he had given up everything for was waiting, ferocious and deadly and the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.
"It's almost over," he murmured to himself. "One way or another. Eighty years, a lifetime of waiting and praying and fighting. God, it'll be good to sleep, my love."
The stone bubbled around him as he disappeared into the earth, knowing that no living man would ever find them again.
The tunnel back to the Underground was long and steep and pitch-black, but neither Kugo nor Izuku were fazed by it in the slightest. They walked it in silence, the kind of quiet where neither men figured they really needed to say anything to each other.
At least, until Kugo finally broke it by asking, "You really do love that girl, don't you?"
Izuku looked up, jarred by the abrupt end to his reverie. He nodded. "I do," he said softly. "More than I thought it was possible to love someone."
He half-expected Kugo to laugh, or scoff, or snort dismissively. He did nothing of the sort. Instead, the enormous mutant simply nodded.
"An awful lot of people are gonna hate you for that," he reminded Izuku. "Not just aboveground-below it, too. Plenty of mutants will think Mina's a traitor, or a whore, or worse."
Izuku sighed. "I know," he agreed. "But I've been hated before. It didn't break me then, and it won't break me now. And…I'll be there for Mina, however I can. We'll survive, somehow."
Kugo made a thoughtful noise, but before he could say anything else, the tunnel dissolved into bright light. They'd reached their destination.
After so long in the Depths, the lights of the First Level of the Underground were blinding. Neon signs and streetlamps and twinkling windows and the overpowering sun-mimicking ceiling lights forced both men to shield their eyes as they emerged into the narrow alleys from a tunnel hidden so well beneath a dumpster that nobody would ever find it again.
"Where are we headed?" Kugo asked.
Izuku pointed at a tall spire of a building some ways across the city. "Musutafu Hero Commission Headquarters," he said. "I know the protocol for when a top hero goes down in the line of duty-especially if it's me. They'll be having an emergency meeting of all the top officials in Japan to try and figure out what to do. I want to show up."
Kugo's expression suggested he was just shy of laughter. "You want to crash a meeting about your death," he said mildly. "Looking like you just fought a woodchipper and lost."
Izuku glanced down at his costume, which was ripped and torn and brutalized. His chest was heavily bandaged, and though blood hadn't seeped too far through the bandages, they were definitely discolored from being so far below ground for so long. Add in the fact that he'd barely slept or eaten in nearly twenty-four hours, and he looked like the living dead.
His wounds hurt, yes. Just about his whole body did, honestly. But that was nothing new. Pain was an old friend to Izuku, and he'd never let it stop him before. Besides…he was practically certain that Ejiro and Ochako and Momo would be at that meeting, and he didn't want them to grieve over his supposed death any more than he had to. They needed to know he was fine-and he needed to give the Hero Commission a piece of his mind before they started treating Fumikage and the Outcasts like another League of Villains to stomp out and eradicate.
"Precisely," he told Kugo.
Kugo grinned. "Sounds like a plan," he said.
With that, they began to head in the direction of the tower, fighting headaches as the brightness of the lights assaulted their eyes.
"I don't understand how you people live like this," Kugo grunted after they'd walked a few blocks, as their eyes finally began to adjust. "It's too damn bright. Hurts my eyes."
Izuku chuckled. "You should see aboveground, then," he said. "It's a hundred times worse."
Kugo barked out a harsh, angry laugh. "Boy, have you seen me?" he said. "I've never been aboveground-your people would throw me in jail just for sticking my head out up there."
Izuku turned to meet his eyes. "And if that changed?" he asked. "If you could go aboveground without being arrested or attacked? Would you?"
Kugo raised an eyebrow. Izuku held his gaze, trying to communicate just how serious he was. Finally, Kugo sighed.
"Dunno," he grunted. "I'm old and set in my ways. Spent too much time down here. I feel like the aboveground would feel too…open to me. Too alien."
Izuku shrugged. "You're never too old to try new things," he reasoned.
Kugo gave him an odd look, but eventually relented. "Fair enough," he decided. "If you somehow pull off a miracle and undo centuries of oppression overnight, I'll take you up on that offer."
They made their way through the city with few difficulties. Izuku probably could have used One For All to get there faster, but he knew better than to risk aggravating injuries more than he had to-and besides, with the number of odd, mildly dangerous looks many pedestrians were giving Kugo, he didn't think leaving him to navigate the streets alone was a good idea.
Either way, it didn't take long before they were standing before the frosted glass doors to the Hero Commission headquarters. Izuku paused, turning to face Kugo just before they went in.
"You don't have to come, you know," he said softly. "You don't owe me a thing, and you have no reason to help me any more than you already have. I know that."
Kugo met his eyes evenly, then chuckled. "Mina's right," he said. "You really are a stupid abovegrounder."
Izuku blinked. "Why?" he asked.
"I ain't doing this for you," Kugo growled. "And I'm damned well aware of how insane it is for me to walk into a room full of abovegrounder suits-I just don't give a shit. You're fighting a war, Atlas, and against the Outcasts, you need every man you can get. I want revenge against the bastards. We've got the same enemies-might as well work together."
Izuku raised an eyebrow. He was almost sure Kugo wasn't telling him the whole truth-his eyes smacked of hiding something. But he didn't have the time, or the inclination, to demand the truth. So Kugo had his own reasons for working with the heroes he hated-it didn't change the fact that he was still right about everything. They'd need him if things ended up reaching the point of open conflict.
And besides, working with mutants was half the reason he was doing this. Why would he turn down one of the few who was actually willing to help him?
"Fair enough," he said. "Now, are you ready to give a bunch of asshole suits the scare of their lives?"
For a long moment, Kugo was silent, examining Izuku. Then, he burst out laughing.
"Hell yes I am!" he guffawed, baring terrifyingly numerous jagged teeth as he slapped Izuku on the back. "Damn, but I like you, Atlas!"
Izuku grinned. "Appreciated," he replied. "Now, follow me."
Ejiro was so numb, he was barely able to hear the discussion going on at all.
A meeting. Izuku was dead, and the Hero Commission wanted to have a meeting about it.
What the hell were they going to talk about? He was dead! Ejiro's best friend, gone in a flash, with him totally helpless to do a damn thing about it.
Some hero he was.
Beside him, Ochako squeezed his hand tightly, earning a hollow smile and responding squeeze from Ejiro. He knew that she and Momo were just as affected as he was; they'd gone through the same hell with Izuku as he had, in UA. They'd thought they had made it through the storm, had survived and grown stronger together when so many hadn't. They'd thought they were safe.
And then they lost him.
They were the only three heroes in the room, and they'd barely spoken or been acknowledged since they'd given their report to the Hero Commission on what, exactly, had happened to bring down Atlas himself. Bloodhound probably should have been there, too, but she loathed the Hero Commission fiercely, and the Commission generally allowed underground heroes more leeway than traditional heroes anyway. She was elsewhere, supposedly gathering more intelligence on the Outcasts and their operations.
Meanwhile, the only other non-commissioner in the room was Mayor Takao himself; as leader of the most embattled city in Japan, the city Atlas himself had called home and fallen in, he had been invited for his "crucial perspective" on the crisis. In reality, Ejiro knew, the man had several of the commissioners in his pocket, and had all but demanded to be included; Takao was nothing if not good at sniffing out where the action was and finagling his way into the center of it.
The meeting had been going for an hour already, and absolutely nothing had been achieved except lots of panicked yelling. Even All Might's fall and subsequent retirement at Kamino hadn't caused this sort of panic; at least he'd managed to take the villain with him. But no, Atlas had been beaten, soundly and thoroughly, and the man who'd done it was still at large somewhere beneath their feet.
One of the commissioners-Ejiro had never bothered to learn their names; they were competent and decent men all, but they universally shared the fatal flaw of being so utterly faceless and forgettable that they practically blended into the background-shouting to be heard over the babble, snapped, "For God's sake, we're looking at another villain war, barely ten years after the last one!"
"Don't exaggerate," another one scoffed.
"Exaggerate?" Atlas is dead, you idiot!" the first commissioner roared.
Ejiro flinched, as did Ochako and Momo. Something about the way it had been so casually said hit them hard-it was as if the world had already moved on, as if the moment Izuku had vanished into that endless abyss, the Commission had simply accepted that he was gone.
Ejiro couldn't accept it. He couldn't. It would mean he wasn't coming back, that Ejiro would never see his best friend again.
That he'd failed to help him.
"Gentlemen," Takao said when the yelling began to subside, his voice buttery and smooth in only the way a master politician could be. "Today is a tragic day, yes. But how about we stop acting like children and start considering our options?"
The Head Commissioner was a man in his fifties, his hair graying at the edges in the way a lucky few men achieve, the sort that makes them look dignified and powerful rather than old and tired. His posture likely helped that-ramrod straight, befitting a former military man given the post out of respect and recognition of his combination of competence and absolute incorruptibility. He was a man who demanded respect, and had earned it from everyone present-including the heroes.
"Mayor Takao," he said formally, in the sort of voice that could report the deaths of thousands or the outcome of a sports match with equal tonelessness, "All those present know of your significant experience with this city and its crime, and your close working relationship with Atlas. Do you have suggestions for how we should respond?"
Ejiro tensed at the look on Takao's face; it was too eager, too victorious. In that same smooth voice, the Mayor said, "Thank you, Head Commissioner. My suggestion is simple: Atlas's death proves that we have allowed the lawlessness of the undercity to run wild for too long. They have grown too bold, too aggressive; if we allow it, they will take Atlas's death as a spark, a sign that we cannot stop them from destroying whatever they please. That chaos will spread all across the country-unless we put a stop to it, and fast."
"Your point, Mayor Takao?" the Head Commissioner asked tiredly.
Takao smiled, baring blinding-white teeth. "Take the fight to the Depths," he said. "Clean out all the dens and lairs of criminals we've let fester. Bring them back in line, before they have a chance to overrun us."
The commissioners looked at each other. Considering. Ochako, Momo, and Ejiro shared a look, too, though theirs was a mix between horror, disbelief, and, deep in their darkest thoughts, agreement.
Ejiro knew about the Incursion Wars. He knew what Mina had said, knew how Izuku had genuinely hoped to break the endless struggle between the Depths and the Underground, had tried to change things for the better. He knew that a fresh incursion, one backed by an entire country's rage at the loss of their greatest hero, would destroy everything they'd ever worked for.
But…but goddamnit, they were gone, and somewhere deep in his chest, Ejiro's grief had turned to earth-scorching rage. He wanted the Depths to burn, wanted to make them pay for taking his friend.
It was only a small part of him, buried beneath everything else. But now…now it had a potential outlet in front of it, and Ejiro could feel it growing.
And it was then that he realized that that was Takao's plan. Simple, brilliant, and utterly unstoppable.
Start a war, a real war, unite not just the city, but the whole country behind him in a blind, fiery rage, turn them against a target that could be defeated-but only with immense suffering and blood, as any war with the Depths would inevitably be…
And become the face of vengeance for Atlas. The mayor who stood up and fought for his city when its greatest protector was murdered. The man who defeated the hated mutants who had killed him.
And in an instant, all but guarantee his political power on not just a city level, but a national level.
Dear God.
The worst part was, Ejiro almost didn't care. That anger in his chest was burning now, burning so fiercely it welcomed Takao's offer to give it an outlet-even an outlet that didn't deserve it.
It was so, so damn tempting. Just…let it win. Just stop feeling so numb, stop grieving for his dead friend, get given a chance to do something about his grief instead. Even something so horrifically evil and bloody, something so against what heroism should be, it would have turned Ejiro's stomach, if he hadn't just watched his best friend die.
Nobody said a word for a long, breathless moment, as they waited to see what the Head Commissioner would say.
He opened his mouth, and began. "A risky proposal, Mayor Takao," he said mildly.
Takao replied, "Atlas is dead, commissioner. Now is not the time-"
There was a sound from the conference room's doors. They were immense things of metal and wood, designed to withstand a siege, if necessary. No man could have moved them in a thousand years of trying.
With a staticky hum, they began bowing inwards, grinding as they were forcibly opened. A loud grunt sounded from outside, followed by slow, heaving steps, pushing forwards, heaving and shoving with unimaginable force.
Takao's eyes went wide as the doors crashed open, finally defeated. The whole room shook as they slammed into the wall, revealing the man who had so casually burst through them.
Tangled green hair. Green eyes dancing with light. A physique so densely muscled and inhumanly Herculean it bordered on ridiculous. A tattered, torn hero costume, the chest clawed open to reveal bandages encircling his torso. A white cape hanging from his shoulders, as torn and dirty as the rest of him, but unmistakable all the same. A smile-more of a smirk, really, as though he knew how impossible his own presence was, how many beliefs he had just shattered forever.
Atlas. Izuku.
"Hey, everyone," he said casually. "Sorry I'm late to the meeting-got a little bit hung up."
The only thing that pierced the absolute, stunned silence of the Commission were the shrieking sobs of the three heroes as they burst from their seats, no longer caring about decorum, and charged Izuku.
He grunted as Ochako barreled into him, shouting so fiercely that she nearly forgot to keep her pinkies from touching him, followed by Ejiro and Momo.
When the three of them were able to form words again, Momo shouted, "Izuku Midoriya, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?"
Ejiro, somewhere between laughing and crying, added, "Did you really need the dramatic entrance, you piece of shit?"
Ochako, for her part, leaned in and hissed, "You absolute bastard, don't you ever do that to us again, you hear me?"
"I don't plan to," Izuku muttered, his beaming smile fading to somber apology. "I'm really sorry, guys. For everything."
Ejiro responded by punching him in the shoulder. "You should be," he said affectionately. "I'd like to go a few weeks without you almost dying, you know."
"Ow," Izuku grunted, rubbing his tender shoulder, "But…point accepted."
Ochako looked around, worry suddenly mounting on her face. "Wait a second," she asked. "Where's Mina?"
Seeing the rising horror on his friends' faces, Izuku swiftly moved to head it off. "She's completely fine," he assured them. "She just…has something she needs to do right now."
The three of them shared a look, then nodded. "How did you survive?" Momo asked.
Izuku grinned sheepishly. "It's…a very long story," he replied. "And I really doubt you'll believe it all when I tell it to you. Which I will, just…not right this second. I have a meeting to deal with."
Finally, Ejiro, Ochako, and Momo remembered themselves. "Right," they agreed, letting Izuku go. They headed back towards their seats, while Izuku strode into the center of the room, before the semicircular table the commissioners sat at.
"Commissioners," Izuku said respectfully, nodding his head. He turned slightly, to look at Takao; his gaze became ever so slightly more icy, his tone more glacial. "Mayor Takao."
Takao said nothing; he seemed to be content to watch, or perhaps was too busy reeling from the abrupt derailment of his own plan. As Izuku watched, Takao met his eyes, and nodded once; there was something about his eyes that suggested a mocking toast.
"Well done," the Mayor seemed to begrudgingly admit, "But it won't matter."
The Head Commissioner was far more welcoming. Displaying impressive self-control, he barely even smiled; instead, he simply said, "Atlas, it's good to see you alive and well. We had thought you were dead."
Izuku smiled weakly. "I very nearly was," he admitted. "But I'm back."
"How did you survive?" another commissioner asked.
Izuku turned to look at the man. Thinking for a moment about how best to conceal both Mina and the legends who had saved them both from them, he finally answered, "I assume you got the report on the fight from the others, so I'll just say that I was aided by someone who found me at the bottom of the Chasm-someone who I'm not going to name for their own protection, so I suggest you don't bother asking."
The commissioners exchanged looks at that, but none of them seemed willing to push Izuku on it. Good.
"With that out of the way," Izuku continued, "We need to talk about what we do next."
"What we do next?" a commissioner repeated, incredulous. "This meeting was about what to do in response to your death, Atlas! Obviously, you're alive, so surely we have nothing to discuss!"
"We do," Izuku responded curtly. "Or do I need to remind you that the man who beat me is still out there?"
There was no response to that. Instead, the Head Commissioner asked, "Do you have anything to tell us about that man? None of our records have anything like the quirk Red Riot, Uravity, and Creati reported."
Izuku nodded. "I can't speak to his exact quirk, just the impressions I got from fighting it," he said, "but I do know his identity, and his intentions. His name is Fumikage Tokoyami, and his group-the Outcasts-have united, destroyed, or absorbed every other significant faction in the Depths. He intends to end the systemic discrimination and abuse of mutants, and their confinement to the Depths."
Once more, the room burst out into a hubbub of conversation at that. Loudly, a commissioner groaned, "Wonderful. Another Re-Destro. Just what we need."
Izuku strode over to the man who had spoken, looming over him like a thundercloud. "You're wrong," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear him. "He's not another Re-Destro. He's not Shigaraki, or Stain, or any of the other madmen with armies we've fought over the years. I made that mistake myself, and almost got killed because of it. He's something different-him and the Outcasts."
The Head Commissioner made a thoughtful noise at that. "How can you be sure of this?" he asked.
Izuku grinned. "I have good sources," he said. "In fact, let me introduce you to one."
The conversation, feverish as it was, ground to a halt at that moment, as heavy footfalls sounded from the corridor outside.
A moment later, a living nightmare in the flesh appeared in the doorway.
Commissioners and heroes alike went pale as Kugo stepped into the room, his skin dark and rubbery and his eyes gleaming with predatory light. The ground seemed to shake beneath his feet, his massive bulk making even the tile shudder nervously.
Kugo seemed to relish the wave of shock and mild fear that ran through the room at his presence. From his immense size and inhuman skin to his immense hands that could crush a man's skull the way a normal man might squish a grape, there was something ferocious about him that could not be contained, that made his presence in this drab wood-paneled conference room almost cartoonish, like a meeting between two utterly different worlds. Standing there and seeing Kugo face down a room of the most powerful men in Japan with an utter lack of fear, Izuku was reminded of the first time he'd met Mezou Shoji-the first time he'd truly understood what it was to be a mutant in a world that simply was not equipped to comprehend you.
One of the braver commissioners looked the massive orca mutant up and down, then looked at Izuku. "Atlas, what is this?" he asked, his voice controlled quite impressively. Too controlled.
Kugo sensed the man's nervousness as well as Izuku did, and before Izuku could say anything, he bared his teeth in what could have been a smile, but very clearly wasn't. His fangs were jagged and sharp, meant for cutting and tearing and slashing, and there were far, far too many of them for a human mouth. He stalked forwards, closer to the man who had spoken.
"What am I?" he asked, his voice humorous and gravelly. "Well, what I am is the big bad monster under your bed-not to mention the only man in this room who's actually spoken to an Outcast as an equal and knows exactly what their goals are. But that ain't what you're asking, is it?"
The commissioner gulped, and said nothing. Kugo rolled his eyes, shaking his massive, dome-shaped head. He turned to Izuku.
"So," he asked mildly, "these are the kinda men you've got keeping your city safe?"
Izuku sighed, and nodded.
Kugo snorted. "No wonder you're doing such a shitty job," he said.
Izuku shrugged, ignoring the insulted noises several commissioners made. "Commissioners, this is Kugo," he said. "He's one of the men who helped me escape the Depths, and he's been working with me against the Outcasts."
Kugo grunted in agreement.
Meanwhile, the Head Commissioner, shaking off his own shock, nodded in greeting. "I see, Atlas, thank you," he said, before turning to Kugo. "You've done us a great service in helping Atlas. If there's anything we can do for yo-"
Before he could finish, Kugo slammed a massive hand down on the table in front of the Head Commissioner, cutting him off.
"Let me stop you right there before you try to bribe me or some shit," he interrupted. "I didn't help him for a reward or any of your hero bullshit. I helped him because he's about the only one of you sorry fuckers I actually think cares enough to try and stop this whole city from becoming a bloodbath. Keep that in mind."
The Head Commissioner, to his credit, held Kugo's gaze without flinching. "Understood," he said curtly.
Satisfied, Kugo leaned back, and returned to a position by the doorway, looming menacingly like a shadow over the room. Every so often, commissioners glanced nervously over to him, then looked away.
Izuku took a deep breath; that had gone better than he expected. At the very least, there was a lot less screaming than he'd imagined.
"As I was saying," he continued, "Tokoyami is now in control of the entire Depths, and he's determined to end the oppression of mutants, one way or another. Individually, he and his top lieutenants are likely a match for any top hero-and Tokoyami himself is strong enough to give me trouble. And he has potentially thousands of committed fighters, all of them highly capable and experienced."
A palpable chill ran through the room. The Head Commissioner leaned forwards, and asked, "An intimidating force, to be sure. So, Atlas…what are your thoughts on how to defeat him?"
Izuku raised an eyebrow, mostly to hide his increasingly nervous heartbeat. "Defeat him?" he said mildly. "I don't think we need to, if we give him what he wants."
The response was a brief uproar, with multiple commissioners letting out shocked exclamations. Takao, for his part, stared icily at Izuku, so much so that he swore he could feel the chill even when he had his back turned.
The Head Commissioner frowned, but said nothing. "Elaborate," he requested curtly.
Izuku looked at Kugo, who nodded. Stepping forwards, the orca mutant began, "I met Tokoyami briefly, a few weeks ago, and I know more about him from his public statements to his people and his reputation. He's very explicit about preferring to avoid violence if at all possible-and he's ruthless if forced into conflict. He'd rather get what he wants peacefully, if we can."
Izuku stepped forwards, adding, "He's also extremely clear about what he wants. This isn't Re-Destro wanting an insane, might-makes-right society or Shigaraki just wanting to destroy everything and rule over the ashes. Tokoyami and the Outcasts have specific, fixable grievances-grievances that I personally agree with. What they want is fairer treatment and an end to their abuse. Our treatment of them is a shame on our entire country-and now we're faced with a choice between open war and fixing something that should never have been a problem in the first place!"
For a few heartbeats after Izuku finished, he dared to hope that it had worked, that he had convinced them. Then, one of the commissioners said in a deceptively mild-mannered tone, "I never thought the day would come when I saw Atlas refuse to fight a villain."
Instantly, Izuku rounded on him. "I am a hero," he growled, making the man shrink back. "But not everyone I fight is a villain. If I can't understand the difference-if I can't recognize that, sometimes, what people I fight need is to be treated with respect and given what they should have had all along, then I have no right to call myself a hero."
"Atlas, you should know better than anyone else the kind of damage mutants cause!" another commissioner shouted. "You live in this city! How much have people here suffered because of them?"
This time, it was Kugo who answered. "How much have mutants suffered?" he demanded of the man who had spoken.
The commissioner looked at him in confusion. "What?" he said, uncomprehending.
Kugo's expression darkened. "We live here too, y'know," he said. "Getting harassed by heroes and civilians, watching heroes drag off people we know to jail-and them never coming back. Forced to live in stinking, dark caves none of the rest of you want. We're part of this city-and we've been suffering for decades. And you've never cared."
Once more, there was silence. Once more, the Head Commissioner looked Izuku in the eye.
"How far are you willing to take this…stand?" he asked, saying "stand" the way another man would have said "threat." "If Tokoyami does attack-if it turns out he is willing to use violence to get his way-would you fight him? Or would you refuse?"
Izuku froze. That was the question he'd been dreading. The one he still didn't know how to answer-the one he didn't dare answer.
He had to make a choice-do his duty as a hero, or help mutants seek the justice they deserved? Wasn't justice part of his duty as a hero? Did he dare take the chance that no innocents would be hurt if the Outcasts attacked?
He couldn't. He couldn't. War always led to innocents being caught in the crossfire. He couldn't sacrifice one group he'd sworn to protect for another.
Izuku had gone in circles for hours-could have kept going, if he hadn't finally stopped himself and accepted that he might never know the answer. And now, he had to answer it-and, quite possibly, decide whether his city went to war.
He took a deep breath.
"If innocents are threatened, I will protect them as I've sworn to," he said. "But I will not fight people I've come to understand deserve justice for the sake of maintaining a monstrous status quo. But all of this is a moot point, if you ask me. I really believe that if we offer a peaceful solution, Tokoyami will take it."
The Head Commissioner nodded thoughtfully; the other commissioners did so, too, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Once more, Izuku felt hope.
And then it all went wrong.
An aide barreled through the still-open doors, eyes wide and panting. "Sir!" he shouted, addressing the Head Commissioner. "There's something you need to see on the news-a villain attacked their offices!"
Even as shock and confusion rippled through the room, the Head Commissioner reacted immediately. "Screens, now!" he barked.
Another aide scurried to hit a button on the wall. The room darkened instantly, shutters rolling down over the windows and massive flatscreen TVs rolling out of recessed alcoves in the walls, already turned on.
Everyone swiveled to face them, including Izuku, who already had a bad feeling in his gut.
The first thing that appeared was a one-horned newscaster, looking considerably more shaken-up and nervous than normal. His hair was uncombed, and sweat beaded his face. On the screens beside him, two other major channels were live, their talking heads looking equally shaken. Izuku's focus, however, remained on the first broadcaster.
"For those of you just tuning in," he said, "The offices of this channel were just attacked by a knife-wielding mutant. The man used his quirk to get past security, though no one was hurt-I repeat, the man did not injure or harm anyone in the building. He threatened the production crews at knifepoint to broadcast a prerecorded message, and in the interest of our staff's safety, we agreed. That message will begin now."
The screen faded to black. A moment later, a familiar beaked, feathered face was on every television in Musutafu.
"Greetings, people of Musutafu," the message began, nearly simultaneously across all three channels. It was surprisingly crisp, despite the darkness and the difficulty of obtaining a decent video camera in the Depths. That suggested some sort of camera or recording quirk-though Izuku had no clue how they had gotten it to the news networks to broadcast."My name is Fumikage Tokoyami. I am the leader of a group known as the Outcasts. Our goal is justice and freedom for the mutants that have been mistreated by the government and society in general for decades."
Izuku felt his blood run cold.
"As of now, we are the undisputed rulers of the Depths, the slums you locked us away in so you could live without guilt at how you treated us," Fumikage continued, his voice cold and formal, his eyes relentless and haunting. "All you really did was let us grow strong. And now, for the first time in our history, we are united, and ready to take back what you stole from us."
Izuku turned to look at Ejiro, who was just as shocked and worried as he was. They shared a look. They both knew how bad this was-there was no longer any chance of keeping this quiet, keeping the public and media calm.
"Freedom. Opportunities. The very sun and sky. You stole all of them from us," Fumikage said. "Now, we demand them back. We demand a repeal of all the laws allowing heroes and businesses to discriminate against us. We demand the same rights the rest of you have had for centuries-the ones you stole from us."
The Head Commissioner was on the phone, probably with the police. "What do you mean, the bastard got away?" he half-shouted. "You're telling me you surrounded the building, had every exit covered, and when you stormed the place he was just gone?"
"At this point, many of you are probably dismissing me as a madman, or simply believing that you're safe, because Atlas will protect you from the consequences of your actions," Fumikage sneered. "Unfortunately for you, he already tried. And he lost."
The video changed, all but confirming it had been filmed with some sort of quirk; the footage, though, was unmistakable. It was from Izuku's fight with Fumikage.
Izuku watched numbly as Fumikage tore into him-clearly, they'd used a combination of footage from the end of the fight, when Fumikage had gotten the better of him, and the beginning, when Fumikage had met him as an equal. Either way, the editing didn't obscure what had happened-he still lost.
Interestingly, though, Mina was absent from the footage. Either the person filming hadn't captured her…or perhaps Fumikage had ensured that that footage wasn't used?
Finally, the combat footage ended with Izuku down and bleeding, and Fumikage standing over him. Once more, Fumikage's face was on screen.
"Atlas can't save you," he said simply. "I already beat him. One way or another, we've won. But I am a reasonable man, and I don't want more bloodshed than necessary. Give us a peaceful solution-anything that meets our demands-and it ends here. Give us our justice, and we will not cause any more harm. Refuse…and we will take it."
With that, the video ended, fading to black until it was replaced by babbling newscasters. They continued talking, but Izuku wasn't listening; he turned to the Head Commissioner, who had gotten off the phone and stopped yelling at aides, and was simply sitting there, head in his hands.
"Sir-" Izuku began, desperately, trying to think of something, some way to convince him, to convince all of them not to fight. He was so damn close!
The Head Commissioner held up his hand, his eyes set like steel, and Izuku knew he had lost.
"Atlas, your case was well-made, and well-argued," the Head Commissioner said, not unsympathetically. "I have no doubt you genuinely believed this could be resolved peacefully. But if it could, that time is past, now."
"You saw the video, sir!" Izuku protested. "He was all but begging for peace! We can stop this from getting worse-"
"Atlas," the Head Commissioner snapped, his tone a warning to Izuku about just how much he was pushing things. "What I saw was a villain threatening death and destruction if he doesn't get what he wants."
Izuku knew how dangerous saying more would be, but he didn't care. He shot back, "What he wants is right!"
The Head Commissioner slammed his hands on the table, freezing Izuku in place with his glare. Behind him, Kugo growled dangerously.
"Enough, Atlas," the Head Commissioner said, almost sadly. "It doesn't matter what he wants, or whether or not it's right. We do not negotiate with villains, and I cannot take the risk of trusting in supposed peaceful intentions when thousands of innocent lives are at stake."
Izuku glared angrily at the man, but said nothing. He had never felt more powerless, more enraged, than he had at that moment. War was starting around him, and there was nothing he could do, with all the power in the world in his veins, but sit there and watch it happen.
The Head Commissioner held his gaze, seemingly expecting Izuku to say something, to acknowledge him. Izuku gave him nothing. At last, the Head Commissioner sighed, and looked to his colleagues.
"I propose doubling the heroes assigned to the Musutafu Underground, fortifying key positions and buildings, preparing evacuation notices for all civilians within the district, and putting out a warrant for Fumikage Tokoyami," the Head Commissioner said. He hesitated, not meeting Izuku's eyes, before adding, "Dead or alive. All in favor?"
Izuku clenched his fists as every commissioner raised their hand.
"I tried, Mina," he thought bitterly. "I'm sorry."
As the commissioners set to work, the rest of them filed out of the room; Takao followed the heroes, a strange look on his face.
As soon as the doors closed behind them, Kugo summed everything up; he crossed his arms, heaved a long-suffering sigh, and declared, "Well. Shit."
War had come to Musutafu.