This was the future, or the beginning of it anyway. This was what Destro made him hungry for, this raw potential, these infinite possibilities and yet... which did he want to pursue? Creativity, "thinking outside the box" or whatever the cliche was, assumed that there was a box to begin with. Sometimes it was easier to be creative when there were rules, when there was something constricting the available options. Then, if one choose a direction and eventually ran up against a boundary, perhaps it was time to consider blasting that boundary apart but when there were no boundaries to begin with... It was all too much, too hard to pick a direction at all.

Izuku had missed out on a huge amount of "school." He could probably catch up, given that a majority of the curriculum missed had been laser focused on warfare in all of its brutal aspects, something he was every bit as familiar with as any of his peers or instructors. He could probably graduate on... time? What even was "on time" when so many people would never graduate at all, either because they'd been recruited by specialists already (Hatsume, Yaoyorozu, Iida, Ojiro, Awase, Kodai, Fukidashi) and had their careers planned out for the next few years, because they had decided to take a few years off to make that plan (Hagakure, Shiozaki, Mineta, Shishida, Shinsou) or because they were dead.

Should he stay, finish UA's curriculum to the best of his ability, or should he go... somewhere? It was unclear what a degree from UA at this point would entail or what such a degree would mean in the new world forming rapidly from the ashes of the old. Given how negotiations between the Chain and the PLF had proceeded so far, the hero industry in its original form was not going to exist anymore. The war had done away with that, both in PLF and Chain territory, and it was not coming back. More likely than not, "heroes" would be folded into the police force, with certain officers specializing in response to large-scale quirk-based crimes.

Izuku's old school laptop had been cannibalized for parts by the support department within a month of Gunga Mountain. He surfed the web for the latest negotiation news on a borrowed, venerable computer with several missing keys and a dysfunctional mouse. Jirou wanted to use it as soon as Izuku was through, but he still had fifteen minutes.

Compress, Spinner, Trumpet and, of course, Magne were the remaining leadership of the PLF, all of the others following Magne's lead into peace talks. Toga had been arrested by the PLF and

branded a traitor along with Curious and Slidin' Go. According to BBC Asia, which tended to be the most reliable source right now, Magne had agreed today that the PLF would not attempt to negotiate special treatment for any of the PLF's "traitor generals" when the war crime tribunals began. In related news, Skeptic had finally been confirmed dead. He had quite possibly been killed by one of Izuku's classmates on the final day of the war although that wasn't clear yet and might never be.

There was still no news on Geten. He had fled the country as Magne's loyalists bore down on his hiding place. Izuho's old general had likely taken Dr. Garaki Kyudai with him, which was very unfortunate but the good doctor was wanted in practically every country on the planet and rumor had it Shriker of Isomorph was hot on his heels. She was infamously persistent, like a gyrfalcon chasing prey to exhaustion kilometer after kilometer, or maybe just a hound out of hell.

"Sic him, Shriker," Fossa muttered under his breath. And here he was again, still falling back into the predator's mindset without warning, suddenly viewing himself, being himself in a fundamentally different way. Izuku blinked and became Fossa. Fossa blinked and became Izuku.

It was never going to go away, was it? The pieces would never fit together again, would they? There would always be Izuku, always be Fossa, even as Izuho lay in a shallow grave.

Sometimes that was just the way things were. Some things just could not be fixed once they were broken. Izuku's head was one such thing, perhaps. Hopefully Japan wouldn't be. The Chain stood on one edge of the lever, the PLF on the other, and the great plank jittered and ground against the fulcrum. The tiniest shift, the tiniest mistake on either side, and the whole arrangement would fall apart, but the negotiations were going really well, at least that was the implication fed to the public, and more importantly the public was ecstatic that negotiations were going well.

If leaders agreed to something but the rank and file didn't follow through, the negotiations were moot. But they weren't moot. Chain, PLF, everybody was happy with how things were going, with what had been agreed so far. Initially the meetings had taken place on some abandoned oil rig in international waters because no country had been willing to host the meeting, assuming that violence would erupt again, but nothing of the sort had occurred and the talks were in Sydney, Australia now, with professional diplomats and negotiators from all around the world flitting around like butterflies, trying to keep tempers cool and progress rapid.

The report on the day's proceedings in Sydney was accompanied by a hilarious picture of Magne and Nedzu raising condescending eyebrows at each other across a conference table while Spinner held his face in his hands.

"The border is finally properly open again," Izuku announced as he read through the agreements that had been finalized that afternoon. "Everybody is legally allowed to go home now."

"Not as if Chain and PLF haven't been slipping across that border left and right for weeks," Kaminari snorted. It had shocked him at first to hear "Chain" used by members of the Democratic Forces, but they had reclaimed the word and it was commonly used in conversation and on unofficial documents. Rather than a Chain holding people back, imprisoning and oppressing, a Chain could be a unifying force binding friends together and allowing everyone to pull together equally.

"Well, yes, but now you can't be arrested or shot for doing it," Yaoyorozu shrugged.

"When do we get rid of that border entirely?" Katsuki complained from the kitchen.

"That's going to be a while," Yaoyorozu shook her head. "They're going to have to completely

rework... not just laws around quirks, the way the government works before that border disappears, and there's no guarantee that it's going to happen at all..."

"I think it will," Izuku disagreed.

"You think so?" Kirishima raised an eyebrow. "That seems awfully optimistic for you."

Izuku huffed and rolled his eyes. "I don't think Magne or any of her factionreally want to run a country. That was never the impression I got of her. She actually cares about her people, I think, and splitting the country permanently isn't what anybody wants. We don't want that, either, and everybody is exhausted and ready to make concessions. I think it will happen, reunification, but it's still going to be a while."

Kirishima nodded to himself. "I keep forgetting that you spent like, months hanging around the PLF high command and like, know them. Personally I mean."

"Yeah. So do I, sometimes," Izuku said, "it's like it was a lifetime ago, even thought it's only been weeks."

"I know the feeling," Kirishima muttered.

"Yeah, seems like the UA entrance exam happened on a different planet. A planet I liked much better, by the way," Katsuki agreed.

"Glad I'm not the only one who feels that way," Yaoyorozu got up to snoop on Katsuki's curry.

A breaking news banner flashed across Izuku's screen. "Oh, wow," he scanned the headline and burst into cackles. "Oh, this is just too good!"

"What happened?" Katsuki left his curry to Yaoyorozu's tender mercies in favor of trying to read over Izuku's shoulder.

"'Escaped PLF General, War Criminal Doctor, Arrested in Rebel Isles,'" Fossa guffawed. "Beautiful!" he scanned the details of the article. He'd read them more carefully later. This was to be savored.

"In the Rebel Isles? Isn't that like... an MLA heritage site?" Kaminari furrowed his brow. "Why were they arrested there?"

"If you'd been paying attention in class that day you'd recall that the original MLA and the PLF don't really have any common values," Yaoyorozu pointed out. "I presume this was in Black Forest, Midoriya?"

"Yup," Fossa chuckled. "I can't tell if they were trying to hide in Black Forest proper or if they were somewhere else in the Rebel Isles and Shriker from Isomorph caught them and dragged them to Black Forest. Apparently Switcher spent thirty minutes explaining to them just how much he hates their guts--I've got to watch that speech--charged them and all the other PLF members with them--looks like there were about a hundred--with a dozen execution offenses, and you can only be charged for something in Black Forest if it actually happened in Black Forest so I guess they must have really been hiding out there trying to... who knows what, something awful. Anyway, rather than having them executed Switcher had them all extradited to New Zealand."

"New Zealand? The hell?" Katsuki tried to grab Izuku's borrowed laptop away. The ex-spy swatted his friend's hand.

"That's mine, Kacchan, mine for ten whole minutes still. New Zealand had active warrants for them because they stopped by there and stole a bunch of things and killed several people on their way to the Rebel Isles, I guess, and Black Forest has a pseudo-official extradition policy with New Zealand? If they arrest someone in Black Forest they'll send them to be charged in New Zealand first. I don't really know if New Zealand is going to charge them with crimes against humanity, too, under Universal Jurisdiction but it's all over for these bastards, now. They'll be before war crime tribunals in a few months, one way or another, and I don't have to worry about the good doctor's nightmare science anymore!" Fossa had fretted in silence about the possibility of the madman building another permissive paradox machine or equivalent. He wasn't supposed to talk about the time travel, not now, not ever, and the bottled up worry had festered, bringing him anxiety and nightmares, but there was no need to fear that horrific possibility anymore.

"Well, that's a relief. That's all of them now, isn't it? All the PLF generals?" Kirishima asked. "We know where everybody is?"

Yaoyorozu pumped her fist in the air. "That's the last of them." "I was far more worried about Garaki Kyudai," Izuku grimaced. "He's... the nomus were all his, right?" Kaminari asked.

"Yeah. That and worse," the ex-spy shook his head. "He is a monster. More than Shigaraki, more than anyone. They could execute him for what he's done a dozen times over and it wouldn't come close to making it even. Monster. That's probably why Switcher didn't just have him killed," though he must have really wanted to, given how long he had hated that man, "even though he could have, because it wouldn't be enough."

"You're not allowed to explain all of that, I presume?" Yaoyorozu asked, clearly concerned by the ex-spy's vindictive rant.

"It's not... most of the things that I hate him for you know about," he shrugged. "You've seen nomus. You've fought them but you never saw them made. You didn't see the lab techs burning the bodies of the failures, twisted up little kids, like medical waste. You didn't see the woman who remembered just enough of her life to know that they had stolen her name from her. You didn't see Dark Shadow without Tokoyami... It's mostly all stuff you know," Izuku clenched his fist, "I just feel it differently. It's not a statistic to me."

Nobody knew what to say to that, students exchanging awkward glances. Eventually Kirishima broke the silence, "let's hope this guy lives a long, long time and whatever prison they shove him in doesn't have any windows at all."

It wasn't enough. Nothing could be. How can someone pay back in full when what has been done cannot be undone? It wasn't enough, but it would have to do.

"It's really so beautifully fitting, though," Izuku attempted to lighten the mood again. There had been enough gloom lately, and he caused more than his fair share of it.

"That he was caught by Switcher?" Yaoyorozu asked.

"Yeah. Switcher fought him in the MLA war, and lost to him in the MLA war in the end, and now the table turned. It's like what happened to Stain, almost poetic."

"Stain?" demanded Iida as he strode into the room, completely out of the loop but zeroing in on the relevant information. "What could possibly be poetic about Stain?"

Had the ex-spy really never mentioned this? It wasn't as if this part were classified. "Oh, yeah, Stain's dead. War Dog ate him. It was very poetic," Fossa waved Iida's shocked spluttering away in favor of explaining Geten's fate to those who had just entered the common room.

The ballroom--there was no better word for it given its broad floor, vaulted ceiling, countless chandeliers, and impressive marble pillars--rumbled with thousands of voices.

Izuku had found a seat at a table with Katsuki, Ojiro, Shouji, Nighteye, Mirio, Centipeder, Shinsou, two military officers he had never met before, Shindo from Ketsubutsu and Shishikura from Shiketsu.

It had taken Izuku nearly ten minutes to realize that Nighteye was drunk. It should not have taken nearly so long as All Might's former sidekick was not particularly subtle about it, slurring his words noticeably, but the possibility of Nighteye being drunk had simply not crossed his mind. It should have. Nighteye was far from the only one who had arrived to the party drunk and quickly proceeded to get much drunker, it just seemed so out of character... Well, Izuku wouldn't hold it against any of them. If ever there were a night for a bit of celebratory overindulgence, this was it.

The orchestra in the pit could barely be heard over the din of happy gossip and laughter. Izuku had refrained from speaking much so far. It was loud enough that he found it difficult to hear his conversation partners even when they were right next to him and the food was delicious. Lunch Rush and the other chefs had outdone themselves. Dinner deserved his full attention.

As Izuku debated the merits of licking his plate in clear view of thousands of people, most of them heroes, police, or military, Centipeder deftly replaced Nighteye's glass with something lower proof. Katsuki, also catching sight of the deception, smirked. Mirio did not seem to have noticed any of this drama, engrossed in a conversation with Ojiro about some samurai movie they had both obsessed over as children.

Nedzu, spectacularly groomed fur shining like diamond and suit gleaming like obsidian, climbed to the stage above the orchestra and adjusted a microphone to his height. "Good evening everyone," the mammal began. The general roar of the room faded towards a din. Soon nothing but a gentle hum of whispers remained. "We will open the floor to dancing of all flavors soon, do not worry. I shan't keep you with an overly long speech. You've all heard plenty such speeches from me over the last year or so." A few people chuckled. "This is a very special day. As of precisely two hours ago, the war is truly over." Cheers erupted like lava rolling through the room. "Celebratory as this is, I think it would be best to observe a minute of silence, in honor of those who should have been here tonight. Whether they sacrificed themselves on the battlefield or were civilians caught up in a fight that should not have touched them, let us not forget them."

Absolute silence fell instantly. Ashido... what might she have become, bright as sunshine Ashido. Tokage and Rin... Mineta's mother, Monoma's parents... Tokoyami and Dark Shadow, a unique

pair whose very existence could have changed the world... Wakiya and his mother... all those nomu in the basement. They flitted through his mind, hiding in the shadows of gloomy thoughts, haunting happy memories with their ghostly might have been's.

It wasn't fair. It was never fair.

Nedzu raised his head slowly, breaking the silence. "At long last, an armistice has become a proper peace." The cheers returned, hesitantly at first, then so loudly it seemed the marble hall might shake apart. "There is much yet to be done. We all know this. If we want the peace to last, we have many more years of hard work ahead of us, but the most difficult things are behind us now. With that in mind, I wish to thank the negotiation team. Please stand," two dozen men and women, all seated at an oblong table at the head of the room, took to their feet and cheers rang out yet again.

"You, too, Nedzu!" someone shouted from the crowd and the mammal's ears curled in abashment as another round of cheers--and chuckles--filled the room.

"Yeah, toast to the negotiators, Nedzu, too!" another, much louder voice agreed. Izuku raised his glass of sparkling cider and tapped it to Katsuki's. The clicks of glass on glass clattered through the hall.

"Um, yes, thank you all," the mammal coughed, running his claws through his ears as he sought composure. Had the principal turned general really not expected that? "I would like to thank all of those who worked and fought tirelessly to bring us to this point. Frontline soldiers, support testers, factory workers, all of you, without you we would never have made it here in the first place. Among the frontline soldiers, there are some who must be thanked by name, people without whom whole battles and possibly the war might have been lost decisively." There were several dozen people named. Among them were many Izuku knew like Eraserhead, Nighteye, Best Jeanist, Edgeshot, Lemillion, Ryuukyuu, and Miruko. Dozens who Izuku did not know followed. He clapped for them all, none the less, toasting every name. They were all going to need to refill their glasses at this rate.

"And now for a toast you were likely not expecting," Nedzu began. "To the traitors!" that shocked the room silent again. "The double or triple agents, the spies, the turncoats and the wildcards. You know little of them, and you may think poorly of them by nature, but without their bravery I can assure you that not a single one of us," and Nedzu stared Izuku right in the eyes as he said this, "would be here tonight. Not one. To War Dog," he called out. Yeah, the wildcard vigilante deserved their thanks. She had saved their hide at the Battle of UA. "Without whom several battles might have ended very differently."

Someone in the crowd, who might in fact have been War Dog herself, called out, "to False Flag, who brought so many prisoners back across the lines alive when nobody else could!" Glasses clinked.

"To Kesagiri Man, who brought down a communication tower and won the battle for us!" More crystal on crystal.

"To Agent 82, who saved all our butts from a nuclear strike!" Wow. When had that happened? Would Izuku ever know? Probably not.

"To White Bridge Sora, without whom we would never have caught the tank saboteur!"

He didn't know who any of these people were, but they were his people, others like him, the ones hiding in the shadows of history, carrying whole battles on their backs unnoticed. He'd never expected something like this, public acknowledgment of what they had done. Was it even safe?

Well, the war was well and truly over now. All of these aliases would be burned. What harm could the mere acknowledgment of their names do? Didn't they deserve at least this after the hell they'd been through?

"To Fossa!" somebody shouted, a man whose voice Izuku definitely did not recognize. Who was that and how did they know him? Wait. This toast was for him. The whole room, thousand of people, they were toasting him. Izuku. Fossa. It would be over in a moment but still, this was for him--"Who all but won the war single-handedly without a shred of help from us!"

He... had Fossa really done that? Did people really believe he'd done that?

"Don't cry, nerd," Katsuki ruffled his hair. "It's okay to be acknowledged when you do something amazing."

"It just... never expected it... I didn't do all that much."

Shouji huffed at him and patted Izuku on the head. "You need to learn to value yourself properly."

Glasses clinked on, the room apparently taking seriously the assertion that this mysterious agent Fossa had all but won the war for them. Izuku valiantly pulled his jaw off the floor, swallowing down an overwhelming storm of confusing feelings.

A gap presented itself and, impulsively, perhaps fed by the dizzy thrill of all those thousands of people toasting, him personally, Fossa seized an opportunity, because she deserved it, deserved her name to be heard, her deeds to be remembered, every bit as much as Fossa. "To Utsushimi Camie!" he screamed, "who saved us all at the Battle of UA and called Shigaraki a coward to his face!"

There was a gasp, audible over the clinking glass, and Izuku turned to find Shishikura staring at him, wide-eyed. It seemed the full story had never made it back to Camie's Shiketsu classmates. He'd have to rectify that. She deserved it.

"To Shriker, scourge of prison camps!" It seemed a bit odd to include her here, but the Isomorph strike team leader fit into the wildcard category with War Dog, perhaps, and he had definitely seen Shriker amidst the crowd earlier. Someone had seen fit to invite her..

Later, having danced with anyone who offered until his feet ached then raided the dessert buffet shamelessly, Izuku found himself lounging against the wall in a quiet corner, watching others dance and thinking too much as usual.

They were all thoughts he'd had a thousand times before. Thoughts about what was, what could have been with only a few tweaks here and there, thoughts about the futility of thinking about these things now that they were in the past and immutable. The future was waiting, but the past dragged at his ankles, keeping him from properly looking ahead.

He'd not made any progress yet on deciding what he actually planned to do now that the war was truly, properly over. School? Gap year? Long vacation? New career? Become a professional mercenary spy? Well, that last one didn't sound very appealing, so at least he'd ruled one option out.

"So are you coming?"

Izuku glanced up to find False Flag in her preferred form--that of a scarred woman with a long braid--looming before him. War Dog in civilian guise, dressed to kill in the figurative manner for once with a flowing black dress and high-heeled boots, waved to him. Hakamata Tsunagu--who couldn't really be called Best Jeanist given that he wore only silk that night--and Shriker of all people stood beside False Flag.

Izuku was tempted for a moment to ask, "where?" by reflex but the answer was obvious. The four standing before him were all Black Forest natives, tired Black Forest natives, all of them likely in the mood for a long vacation back home.

Switcher was the last loose end, the final missing puzzle piece. It didn't matter anymore, had never really mattered, but Izuku would like to know what had happened during his missing week, why he had never received the note everybody seemed to expect the body hopper to leave behind when vacating a host.

Long-term plans could wait. Short-term opportunities were of greater importance sometimes. "When are we leaving?"