Midoriya stared at the wooden boards that made up the ceiling of whatever room he found himself in, vaguely wondering if he was dreaming.
His body felt much lighter than it had in the past… he didn't even know how long. It almost felt like he was floating, but given his experience with the feeling, he knew it wasn't the same. The weight tugging him down—lessened though it was—was a bit too… deep-seated to be anything other than gravity. But that weight seemed far too bearable compared to its oppressive pull that had been relentlessly accompanying his every waking moment.
There had been moments in the past few weeks in which he'd wondered whether someone had used a quirk on him. Had there been something that increased the effects of gravity upon his already weary limbs or was his exhaustion beyond his measurable limits. There was no way to be sure, or rather, there hadn't been. Not until now.
Was this lightness how it was supposed to feel to simply exist in the world? He couldn't remember anything but the heaviness of his limbs, the struggle that was standing upright. Even with the energy of One for All fueling his every movement and the support of Black Whip that prevented his collapse when his legs failed to support his weight, that oppressive force was a near-impossible burden for each and every step he took.
Who was to say, really? Perhaps he only felt this way because he was lying down rather than standing upright on his feet.
He didn't think that was the case. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if people could actually live like that (or maybe he was just weak and regular people were unaffected by it). It would be more plausible to assume that it is the result of his own condition, yet somehow that didn't seem right either.
Logically, he should know the answer to his own questions given the over sixteen years he had presumably lived without the struggle, but everything was a bit of a blur. He remembered going through life with minimal difficulty, though it was more of an awareness of that fact than any ability to recall how it had actually felt to live through it.
No, he was just overthinking things. Whether this weight was a constant or not, he only seemed to have problems with it after he left UA. Therefore the weight was inconsequential.
Midoriya mentally smacked himself for his own idiocy, wincing at the way his skin tugged as he accidentally shifted a bit in the bed.
This whole train of thought was stupid. Of course the weight—the struggle—wasn't normal, but rather the product of extensive exhaustion. Honestly, the boy couldn't even remember the last time he took a break aside from relieving himself in a deserted alleyway or a patch of dirt if he was lucky. Although even that bodily function had tapered off given how little he was consuming.
Which was to say, he consumed nothing. Even drinking water had generally fallen to the wayside, merely a side note to—a distraction from—his goal. In fact, he had long since forgotten about most of his bodily needs unless something he couldn't ignore made itself known.
Now that he thought about it, it was a bit of a miracle that he had lasted as long as he had. Food was one thing, water was another. The former he could theoretically last weeks without. The latter?
Well, luckily for him and the entirety of Japan, the frequent rain showers of April were one such unignorable reminder.
Although that usually ended with him simply lowering his scuffed and rusty faceguard to take several gulps from the heavy downpour. Sometimes the water tasted a bit salty, as if the rain pouring from the clouds were the heavens weeping alongside the civilians of Japan. He knew that it was likely just the water mixing with the perspiration from his own lips, face, and costume that had long-since dried, but he was far too weary to keep his extraneous, intrusive thoughts at bay.
Yet even as he imagined the sky weeping for the citizens, he couldn't bring himself to believe they were weeping for him. And they certainly weren't weeping with him either. Not him. Never him. Midoriya had things to do, he no longer had time to cry nor deserved any pity for the circumstances in which he wrought upon himself, dragging the rest of the country into ruin alongside him.
He no longer had time to rest. He had run out of time, waffling it away with his own stupidity and naivety. Yet here he was once more, failing once again and reaping exactly what he had sown.
All Might had even told him to rest; Midoriya hadn't listened.
He had been convinced that if he just pushed a little more, stayed out a little longer, he could finally locate All for One and Shigaraki and put an end to this nightmare. He had been so foolishly certain that he'd even sent his mentor, the one who supported him most despite all of his failures and shortcomings, away. Of course, his intention had been to protect the man who no longer boasted the immeasurable strength of his prime. After all, things were only going to get more dangerous once he located them.
But his intentions did no good when, instead of finding the villains he sought and returning everything back to normal, all he could do was struggle and stumble along until he ended up here. Wherever 'here' was.
And now he was all alone once more. He was surrounded by civilians—possibly criminals, although that was the least of his concerns at the moment—who knew nothing of his burden, his responsibility.
And in the end, after all this pain and death and destruction, All Might was right. Aizawa-sensei was also right.
In hindsight, everything seemed as clear as the cracks in the wooden ceiling at which he was staring. He needed to rest so that others could rely on him.
Yet he foolishly hadn't rested; instead he ran himself into the ground helping with every little flare of Danger Sense, even when his assistance wasn't paramount. It would have been okay to rest, he realized that now. But it was far too late and now he was a liability in the field, having pushed himself to the extreme until there was nothing left when he was needed the most.
It seemed that nothing had changed even though he promised himself he would do better. Be better.
And just like that, his resolve shattered into a million pieces.
How would he ever face them again, knowing that, despite their best efforts, he was the same old useless Deku?
Midoriya flinched at the sardonic bark of laughter that escaped from his own lips without permission, wincing at his own volume and the overwhelming self-loathing that built up in his chest. He could only squeeze his eyes tightly shut, wishing he could just do something right for once. But in the end, he was still Deku, the useless hero wannabe, not the Deku that could do it. His hero name was quite fitting after all. It hadn't been what he had intended for himself when he declared his alias with a wobbly, determined smile, but it ended up perfectly apt all the same.
Tears built up in his eyes, leaking out from under his eyelids, but he shook his head. He couldn't cry. He needed to be better than that. There were still things he needed to do even if he was a failure. It was too late now, there was nobody else he could turn to.
The past users had told him he was the last user of One for All—no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
Yet he foolishly set out on a path that would destroy himself—the last suitable vessel—before he could fulfill his purpose. He was the country's last hope, the last major line of defense against total anarchy and ruin, whether he liked it or not. There wasn't a person alive that could handle One for All now, not that he would burden anyone else with the responsibility even as it slowly crushed him.
And now that he'd crashed and been forced to recover because his body had finally failed him, he knew what he had to do. He couldn't let himself get back to that point of exhaustion since it left him in such a vulnerable state. He would hit the streets again and keep the fighting to a minimum. Of course, he couldn't fully regret most of the fighting he had done up to this point. He had gained so much experience and figured out how best to combine his quirks, with the help of the previous users. Now that he had more control of the new quirks, he could surely defeat All for One and Shigaraki. He had to believe that.
Guilt settled in his gut as he thought about how helpful the previous users had been, even as they had watched him gradually run himself into the ground against their advice. He wasn't sure how he could face them after everything he'd done, but it wasn't as if he could avoid them. In fact, even the previous users had to come to terms with the fact that they were stuck with him as much as he was stuck with them.
Now that he thought about it, it was odd how quiet the previous users were at the moment. Maybe they were giving him the silent treatment because of his own stupidity. It would be in character for Second and Third, at the very least, but something uncomfortable squirmed in Midoriya's gut at the reminder of their minor disdain for him.
With a deep, calming breath, the boy promised himself that he would apologize to them properly later. Unfortunately he had other priorities that needed his attention before he could figure out how he would make it up to everyone around him.
The last thing he remembered was being brought onto a ship by some of the people he had saved. A ship meant an unknown location, which created other issues. He just had to get himself together long enough for him to figure out where he was and leave. After all, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he put these people in danger by being near them.
Then he would have to get in contact with Endeavor, Hawks, Best Jeanist, or All Might. Or perhaps all of the above. Although they had provided him with a heavy-duty, hero-grade mobile phone, that didn't mean it was immune to all of the issues a regular phone could have.
Case in point getting smashed into pieces by one of Lady Nagant's bullets. Or—how he was most likely going to find it—running out of battery. He had no idea how long he had been asleep for, but given how rejuvenated he felt, Midoriya could only assume it was a significant amount of time.
Then again, his idea of what constituted a 'significant amount of time' was probably shorter than it had ever been before. But either way, it was probably long enough that his phone was long-since dead. Of course, that was assuming the frequent exposure to the rain and moisture hadn't been the final nail in the coffin and finally killed it before the battery gave up.
All of his equipment really had seen better days.
So assuming that his only phone troubles were the battery, he would have to figure out how he could charge it. Unfortunately, a quick glance around the room (an infirmary?) revealed no electrical plugs. It was a bit odd, but Midoriya had never been on a boat before, so he had no idea if that was out of the ordinary or not.
What was certainly not ordinary, however, was the other teenager sleeping in the bed just a few meters away from him, snoring softly without a care in the world. Now that his vision wasn't blurry to all hell and simply tilting his head no longer sent his vision careening sideways, he could clearly make out the boy's appearance.
He was certainly lankier than Midoriya with his limbs all strewn about the bed, but the size of the bed frame and mattress left him looking much smaller than he likely was. A quick glance at the footboard of his own bed made it obvious that he was in a similar situation. The only difference was that he was still tightly tucked in, the sheets and thick blanket keeping him in place.
Well, before he could check on the condition of his phone or even begin to figure out where he was, he had to get out of bed.
With that in mind, Midoriya shifted a bit, blinking owlishly at how firmly the sheets held in place. Ignoring the pain, he twisted his torso ever-so-slightly, loosening the linens just enough for him to shimmy his body a bit closer towards the headboard. Little cramps in his sides made themselves known, but he simply bit his lip as he continued his glorified squirming.
It was kind of pathetic how much difficulty he was having, but in his defense, he hadn't slept in a bed in weeks and even back home, he'd never had someone tuck him in so tightly. Recovery Girl preferred loose sheets to prevent irritation of the skin, especially given how many students came in with superficial wounds like hot, cold, and friction burns, rashes, and many other things that only the strangest of quirks could cause.
Never mind the fact that he had been in the nurse's office at UA so often that he not only got a sense for the old Hero's preferences, but also was able to ask for her reasoning behind them without feeling too awkward about it. Perhaps he should be embarrassed, but honestly the concept of a school nurse that actually treated his injuries was still a novelty to him.
Perhaps whoever had treated his injuries were trying to prevent him from moving so that he wouldn't reopen or worsen his wounds. Which, given the way the other teen in the room was rolling around in his sleep, Midoriya couldn't exactly begrudge their choices.
His lips wobbled a bit as he longingly thought about the familiarity of Recovery Girl's office. And wasn't that embarrassing? He was feeling homesick for UA's infirmary of all things. He felt so pathetic.
With a watery sigh, Midoriya gave up on trying to wiggle his way out from under the sheets. He supposed he would actually have to use his arms. He grimaced at the way they ached dully. He had to be on some real good pain killers for his damn-near chronic joint pain to be that faded.
Reluctantly, Midoriya pulled his left arm out from under the sheets of his bed. He grit his teeth at the sensation of soft fabric scraping against his delicate skin, internally cringing at the patches of rashes and blotchy skin that hid in the crevices of his elbow and underarm. He couldn't help but reach his arm up to further study his skin, searching for new blemishes. He couldn't help but remember the way Lady Nagant had raised her arm up as she fell, as if she was seeking someone's helping hand despite expecting nobody to reach back.
But he had gone out on a limb for her (metaphorically and literally), grabbing her outstretched hand while trying to reach her heart. It was all for nothing in the end, of course. All for One made sure of that. She served as a reminder that no one would be safe around him, not even his enemies and much less his allies.
And now here he was with no one left to pull him to his feet. It was fitting, in a way, even as it drove stakes of pain into his heart.
The boy paused halfway, aborting the motion of raising his arm to stare at his now-free arm and once again take in the sight of the dozens of scars that lined and dotted his flesh. The awareness of how lacking he was as a hero came back full-force, worsened by the knowledge that his right arm was in a much worse state than his left. Despite the nausea-inducing emotions that coiled in his gut, he was still transfixed by the sight of his limb, shaking from the simple act of keeping it lifted upward.
Even as he rotated it to stare at the palm of his hand, there was something mesmerizing about it. The story of how his life had changed in just the last year was etched into his body, unable to be ignored or forgotten.
For a moment, Midoriya forgot the reason he had tugged his arm out from under the linen and tried to sit up. Several stabs of pain laced through his core along the grazes he'd received from the former pro hero.
He immediately shook that thought out of his head, instead focusing on the throbbing ache in his gut that accompanied his pitiful, aborted attempt at sitting up.
Taking in a deep breath, he pulled his left arm back down to brace against the bed. He shifted a bit to the left tugging his other arm free from the sheets and grimacing as it pulled at his sensitive skin. Once his two limbs were free, he let them flop on top of the blanket and took a moment to breathe through the aggravated pains and aches that danced around his body sporadically. Although the odd weakness of his limbs was more surprising than it had any right to be, it was actually the low levels of pain that left him confused.
In fact, the empty, aching pain in his stomach was by far the most bothersome affliction, aside from the irritation caused by friction on his rashes. Perhaps he wasn't on an analgesic after all?
It was… pathetic that simply not being riddled with pain was what put him off-balance.
With what felt like the hundredth heavy sigh he'd allowed himself since he had awoken, Midoriya lifted his shoulders, neck, and head off the bed and dragged his arms back behind him. With a few moments of tightly-squeezed eyes, deep breathing, and shaking shoulders, the boy shoved himself fully upright, digging his fingers into the springs of the mattress as his legs slid against the linens.
Once he was (mostly) upright, Midoriya allowed himself to flop his back against the headboard, scrunching his nose instinctively as the thud resounded in the room. He hated being so loud in such a quiet environment, but it wasn't as if he had the energy to do anything about it, so he forced himself to let it go.
Besides, he hadn't woken up the other teen yet, so that had to count for something, right?
Midoriya paused for a moment, waiting for one of the previous users to chime in with either encouragement or a snarky comment. When neither occurred, he visibly deflated, the small, anticipatory smile that had snuck onto his face without permission slid off just as quickly.
Right, they were still angry with him for ignoring them and continuing to push himself in spite of their advice.
He knew he had decided to deal with that later, but honestly the silence that stemmed from what was usually the very chatty Peanut Gallery (as Fifth had jokingly called them, much to Fourth's chagrin and Seventh's amusement at the time). (As far as Ninth was aware, First had also found humor in it, but back then he had still been busy coaxing Second and Third into having regular conversations with the rest of the so-called Peanut Gallery.)
With a frown, he deliberately thought his thanks, hoping that would be enough to convey what he wanted to say. Up until now, he had spoken his responses to the previous users out loud. He wasn't sure whether they could hear his thoughts. He sincerely hoped not, considering how little he had been able to contain his intrusive thoughts and random tangents as the dreary days extended into weary weeks.
Now that he thought about it, he had probably looked even more insane to any civilians that witnessed his seemingly one-sided commentary. Honestly, why hadn't he tested out other ways of communicating with the previous users? Was he too focused on his goal that everything else fell to the wayside?
Midoriya was startled out of his thoughts by a gasp accompanied by a sudden crash and resulting echoes of a muffled, tinny, ringing noise. The sound was not unlike a rolling ball, assuming that ball was made of some kind of metal. Before he could ponder the sound further, his eyes snapped to the source of the sound, only to find the door to the room wide open when it had been closed a mere moment prior. He stared at the man that was standing wide-eyed just a few steps past the door frame, his arms frozen in their outstretched position, clearly having been holding something just moments prior.
His eyes flicked down to the floor for just a moment, briefly registering the metal trays and food now all over the floor. The man must have been holding the plates and dropped them, he surmised before quickly returning his wary gaze back to the man in question.
How had he not noticed someone coming in or the door itself being opened? Danger Sense was suspiciously quiet, which was unnerving in a way that he couldn't put into words, which implied (but did not guarantee) that this man wasn't overtly a threat. And sure, Danger Sense had been his best warning system for danger, but his senses and instincts were nothing to scoff at either. Midoriya was shocked at having been caught so off-guard.
This did not bode well for his chances going forward, but he forced himself to brush his reflexive panic aside.
The more he studied the man who looked to be in his early twenties, he wondered if he was a threat at all. Of course he quickly disavowed himself of that notion, especially considering how very few would see his own small stature as threatening. The man certainly didn't appear to be dangerous, at least, not until the boy noticed the way his fingers flickered into flames, most likely out of surprise. The man must have a fire quirk then. (That would be tough to manage in close-quarters if worse came to worst. He would just have to flee the room into a more open space before he could subdue him if the man saw fit to attack.)
Taking a breath in hopes of calming his racing heart, Midoriya reluctantly tore his eyes away from the intruder man to study the state of the floor.
He took note of the (metaphorical) disaster zone that was now the wooden floor, his mind unhelpfully supplying the suggestion that the wooden floor must have muffled the sound of the (he counted… seven?) food platters clattering to the floor as they'd spilled their contents everywhere. Which was especially unfortunate given the way his stomach squirmed uncomfortably from lack of sustenance.
His second observation—likely driven by the nagging hunger that was starting to drive him up the metaphorical wall—was about the mess of food that was now scattered across the wooden boards. Luckily it didn't appear that any of the many dishes had any liquids or saucy foods, otherwise the mess would be much worse, but somehow that wasn't exactly reassuring.
Actually, why were there seven platters? Given how startled the poor guy looked, he hadn't expected either of them to be awake, so why had he brought so much food? Midoriya would bet his quirk that not even All Might would have been able to eat that much in one sitting even in his prime, so he couldn't come up with a satisfactory answer to his unspoken question.
Not to mention, how had this guy managed to carry all of them here and open the door without a noticeable sound? There was no way that he'd missed the noise, even if he had been thoroughly engrossed in his own thoughts. After all, Midoriya hadn't been that lost in his head since… well not since he'd taken to sleeping on the streets crawling with dangerous villains who wished to do him harm. Or rather, his paranoia and overactive instincts (and Danger Sense as well; there was no use pretending it hadn't been a constant bother) had long since overridden his bad habit of being too enraptured by his own thoughts.
"You're awake?!" the man yelped.
What an astute observation, Midoriya couldn't help but think.
"Hey! You've been asleep for three days! How was I supposed to know you'd wake up today?"
Three days? Oh shoot, wait, had he made that rude comment out loud? Oh gosh, he could just imagine the teasing he would get from the previous users later. That comment was something that Fourth would say! Not Ninth! Midoriya couldn't believe their rude commentary habits were rubbing off on him!
"S-sorry I didn't mean to-"
"Oh fuck, I can't believe I spilled the food all over the floor. Damn it, I was really looking forward to eating some of that. Although, now that I think about it, I probably should have eaten it before coming here…"
"Wait, who was the rest of the food for?" he couldn't help but ask.
The man just stared at him blankly and pointed to the other (sleeping) teen in the room as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Before the boy could question him further, the teen in question reached over and picked up a chunk of meat directly off the floor. Midoriya instinctively followed the hand as it retracted (wait, did his arm just stretch? Was that his quirk?) only to watch as the boy's mouth opened far wider than a typical human's face would ever be able to just to shove the entire piece in and swallow it whole.
Midoriya could only blink as he stared at the teen. Were his eyes still closed? Wait, was he still snoring?
"Ah well, sorry about Luffy."
"Is he sleep-eating?" Midoriya couldn't help but wonder aloud, staring transfixed at the sight of the unconscious teen (Luffy?) shoveling food in his mouth as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.
"Yeah, he does that," the man laughed as if it was the most normal thing in the world, "He'll probably eat every bit of food, even though it's all over the floor. But if you're hungry, I could take you to the temporary mess hall."
"All of it?"
"Hm? Yeah. What about it?"
"N-never mind," Midoriya shook his head, chalking it up as a possible side effect of the teen's quirk.
The two of them remained still, both staring at the sleep-eating kid in the room for very different reasons. Aside from the snores (which were oddly increasing in volume the more he ate) and the, frankly, disgusting eating noises, both of which originated from the teen in question. Of course, Midoriya's stomach chose that moment to loudly gurgle, startling the man's soft gaze away from the other kid and toward the young hero.
Sheepishly, he averted his gaze, "You said I could get food somewhere?"
"Oh, yeah!" the man beamed, taking a step forward as if to help Midoriya out of bed before freezing in place with a comically expressive look of realization, "Oh wait. No. I need to tell the nurses that you're awake. I think they said something about a check-up once you woke up? Also Pops wants to see you."
Midoriya couldn't help the grimace that graced his lips at the thought of delaying his next meal. It was kind of pathetic, but in his defense, he hadn't eaten in at least a week. Maybe more.
He hadn't exactly been keeping track of the days, not that he would have been able to when everything started to blur together.
And sure, it may have been his fault that he stopped eating in the first place, but he regretted it, so nobody should be able to judge him for his desperation, right?
…not that these people were aware of his role in his own starvation.
Some part of him cringed at the word starvation, but that was what it had been, right? He couldn't deny it anymore. He had to be better than that going forward.
…wait, did the man say Pops?
Who on earth was Pops?
"Pop is our captain, but we all see him as a father," the man helpfully supplied.
Gosh was his mumbling habit back? He thought he had kicked it while on the streets, but apparently not.
Before he could gather his thoughts and formulate an appropriate response, the man spoke once more.
"Oh crap, I'm so sorry! I forgot to introduce myself," he cried with comically wide eyes, following up his apology with a semi-deep bow, "I am Portgas D. Ace. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"A pleasure," Midoriya repeated, feeling distantly out of his depth. Part of him was still waiting for teasing from his own little Peanut Gallery, yet he got no response.
Although, aside from their absence keeping him off-balance, the odd mood swings of the man (Portgas?) in front of him was perplexing, if not simply downright confusing.
Portgas stared at him expectantly as he straightened up from his formal bow. Ah, right, he had yet to respond. He certainly didn't want these civilians (or possible criminals, his mind reminded) knowing his real name, especially given the rumors that had been spreading like wildfire about him. He needed to remain in the dark to catch All for One and Shigaraki when they were least expecting it. Even if he might have blown his cover by participating in that battle, it would still be a good idea to lay low for the time being.
Given the gentle rocking (of which he was surprised that he hadn't noticed sooner), they were definitely out at sea. That meant he was hidden for the time being, but the moment All for One got wind of their assistance, he knew that it would put them all in danger. Even if All for One discovered it after he had already left, Midoriya wouldn't put it past him to target them as well. After all, Lady Nagant had been his enemy and he had witnessed first hand how that had turned out for her.
"I'm Deku," he barely gets out before Portgas nods enthusiastically and points to the teen who had somehow already finished consuming all the food that the other man had brought.
"That's my little brother, Luffy! I humbly thank you for saving my life as well as my brother's! Oh, and for saving Pops too!"
Midoriya felt pressure begin to build behind his eyes, throbbing as his eyebrows unconsciously furrowed. So Portgas and Luffy were the people (he'd thought them to be teens at the time, but that must have been his blurry vision and the adrenaline) he'd saved from that magma guy. Did that mean that this Pops was the giant old man he'd convinced to flee? Portgas did say he was their captain, which would explain the man's commanding presence.
But that wouldn't explain the powerful stature he had seen. Plus it was quite odd that a civilian captain would be able to fight as he had, much less with the wounds he'd sustained. Midoriya could only assume that meant they were criminals—villains—but somehow that conclusion didn't feel right either.
"Of course," regardless of their status as civilians or criminals, Midoriya couldn't bring himself to regret helping them. They had been drastically outnumbered and it was clear that the military force intended to slaughter them like animals.
Now that he considered it, he didn't think he recognized the uniform of the people he'd faced. They had clearly spoken Japanese, but it certainly wasn't the Japanese military. It was possible that another country could have a task force with soldiers that spoke the native tongue of their enemies, but it was unrealistic for such a specialized force to be so large.
It felt as though the answer to all of his questions was just on the tip of his tongue, just a few thoughts away, but each time he thought he was about to grasp it, it slipped away. The experience was aggravating, but that was neither here nor there.
"Well, I should probably go get the nurses before they show up and skin me alive for not finding them as soon as you woke up!" Portgas chuckled as if someone threatening a horrifying act was just another Tuesday for him.
Well, Midoriya supposed that with all of Kacchan's threats, he had no room to talk.
"Alright. I'll… see you later then, Portgas?" he probed, hoping that a familiar face would return soon, if only to soothe his fraying nerves.
Portgas' face scrunched up in distaste, a layer of some deeper emotion hidden on the thin visage of playful annoyance, "You can call me Ace, you know. No need to be formal or anything. You really saved our asses back there!"
His stomach gurgled again, once again bringing the young hero's attention back to his… ugh, to his gnawing hunger pains. Once he hit the streets again, he would make sure to eat frequently, if only to avoid something as embarrassing as this from happening in front of the pro heroes or, even worse, villains.
Midoriya could feel his lips dip into a frown as he once again waited for a comment from one of the previous users that never arrived.
"I'm really sorry that I can't lead you to the mess hall! I would bring you food, but I'm not sure what the nurses want you to eat since it's been days," Portgas—no, he said to call him Ace—rambled as he crouched down to retrieve the platters from the floor, "Not to mention, I doubt you'd be able to get a bite in edgewise before Luffy snatched the food right off your plate! Anyway, I'll see you later whenever the nurses decide you're well enough to see Pops! Bye!"
Midoriya blinked owlishly at the now closed door, staring as if the man would come back any moment to grab the seventh platter that he had missed from its place underneath Luffy's bed. After a few moments without the man's chaotic return, the young hero deflated against the headboard of the bed, groaning at the dull ache that resulted from the head-on-solid-wood collision.
In the sudden absence of the man he'd apparently saved just three days prior, Midoriya distinctly felt as if a whirlwind in human form had just whisked through the room, leaving him breathless and reeling. Just having a conversation with the guy was… a lot… to put it bluntly. The boy was sure that, had they met just over a month prior, he would have easily been swept up by the man's enthusiasm and charisma. But as it was now, he felt far too overwhelmed from just that one chaotic mess of a conversation.
Maybe once he meets this Captain (now that he's coherent and no longer struggling to stay awake), he might finally get some answers as to what exactly was going on.