The pier was all but abandoned, only one boat at the dock. The full moon rippled like liquid silver splashed across the obsidian of the sea. A cold breeze whipped salty air down his jacket and Izuku shook his head in disgust. His hair was going to be a frizzy disaster. False Flag trotted down the pier, rucksack slung over her shoulder, then jumped neatly onto the deck. She beckoned for Izuku to follow.
"Do you really have to go?" Katsuki clenched his fists.
"Katsuki, dear, we've talked about this," Izuku's mother gave the bleach blonde a pointed look.
They had talked about it, for hours. Izuku had explained, at last, all the secrets that were his to share. He left Switcher's secrets out of it, though. He had told them that Switcher had been involved in Izuku's disappearance, implied the last MLA general had likely sanctioned Izuku's abduction as part of the eons old conflict with All For One. As to the nature of the general's quirk, however, Izuku would never say a word.
"It's not like I'm leaving forever, and it's not like Black Forest doesn't have internet and cell service. I'll keep in touch, however long I'm gone." He didn't have to go, but he needed to go, needed this final bit of closure.
"And how long is that gonna' be?" Katsuki demanded.
"What's it matter?" Neito broke in, giving Izuku a hug goodbye. "He'll be back."
"Be careful, Izuku," his mother crushed him into one final hug. "I know you trust these people," she whispered as War Dog's silhouette perched like a gargoyle upon the boat's bow, arching up to howl at the moon, "I know you think they'd never hurt you..."
"But you don't know them," Izuku nodded. "I'll take as much care as I need," also known as not much, certainly not compared to the care he'd been forced to exert throughout his life in recent years. "I'll see you soon."
"Goodbye!" Izuku waved, shouldered his backpack and traced Flag's footsteps.
He'd implied the opposite to his worried friends and family, said it like he believed it, like Izuho used to say things to Arashiro, but in the dark corners of his heart he knew it would be a very long time before he set foot back in Japan. Not forever, no. He'd be back, someday. Whether he would build his future and new home in Japan or Black Forest or somewhere else entirely who could say? There were infinite paths ahead of him. Why limit himself just yet?
He jumped onto the deck, handed a wad of cash to the boat's captain, and followed False Flag into the small cabin.
He didn't look back. He could guess Kacchan's expression. He didn't need to see it.
Crystal blue water churned to froth beneath the bow, an occasional burst of spray catching Izuku across the face, much to his delight. This water was pure and fresh, untouched and incorruptible, not at all like the questionable harbor waters Izuku was most familiar with. A wandering albatross glided past, regarding the ferry's occupants hopefully, likely accustomed to getting a handout or two from a crowd this size.
"Do you think he'll be there to meet us?" Hakamata mused from where he had draped himself across the railing. The hero still covered his face with scarves, a habit which stood out far less starkly in the Rebel Isles than Japan. Plenty of people here preferred to remain anonymous in public.
"He'll probably be there. Nearly half a dozen old Switchblades coming in on the same ferry?" Kazetani Kaede--War Dog--replied.
"How would Switcher even know that?" Izuku asked. "It's not like we gave the ferry operator our names." They gave the ferry operator money--in several different currencies all of which seemed to be perfectly acceptable--but no names.
"He won't know until we get there," Flag shrugged, "but he usually takes a cursory glance at the large ferries that arrive and depart every day, and he'll certainly spot us and make himself known."
There were plenty of other ways to arrive at Black Forest--private aircraft or boats, teleporter services--but the vast majority of individuals arriving or departing took the short-hop ferries to intermediate destinations in the Rebel Isles whose very existence revolved around their roles as transportation hubs. From those hubs travelers departed for Fiji, Hawaii, New Zealand, Polynesia or a similar destination from which comerical air travel could be arranged.
"Blue Albatross Bay," Izuku mused. There was no bridge across the mouth of the bay, all be it the navigable channel was only a few hundred meters wide and all docking ships were forced to get in line to enter or exit. Craggy rocks coated in scrubby trees, sea snakes, and long-winged birds guarded the mouth like watchtowers, further restricting access. "Epona's other masterworks," Izuku quoted Switcher of long ago as he caught sight of the large guardians perched upon the rocks.
"We call them bay bears," Flag--Samara--told him. He really needed to get into the habit of calling them by civilian names. They were all as off the clock as humanly possible.
"But... they're pinnipeds?" Izuku squinted at the so-called bay bears.
"If you ever have the fortune to see one of them close up with their mouth open," Hakamata cut in, "you will understand the moniker."
"When we get closer, you'll see they look like a cross between California sea lions and Kodiak bears," Shriker explained. As it turned out she had no civilian name, or rather her civilian name was Shriker. "They've got big paws more than flippers." She mimed gigantic claws by curling her fingers.
"And can take a chunk out of a solid steel hull, no problem," Samara grinned.
"That's... not what their purpose is, though," Izuku narrowed his eyes, recalling vague memories not his own, just flashes of emotion, really, and the briefest image of Epona carrying a newborn in her arms, smiling as if it were more precious than the world itself.
"No indeed," Hakamata agreed. "They are generally very friendly creatures, and Epona made them to serve primarily as lifeguards not coastguards."
To be made for a purpose... Izuku had spent so much of his own life seeking a purpose, then following a purpose, but one that he'd chosen for himself. If somebody had just outright told him to go become a hero and then a spy, rather than Izuku choosing that path, he would have resented that person, that entire situation, bitterly. And yet... finding a new purpose now that the war had ended and his self-assigned task concluded was proving even more difficult than he'd expected it to be. Would it really be so bad to be made for something, to have a noble destiny handed to him on a silver platter, a role that would always be necessary and respected? "Do you think they resent it? Being made to be lifeguards like that? Do they talk?"
"They are about as intelligent as dolphins," Shriker explained. "They have a language among themselves of sorts. I really doubt they resent their lives, certainly no more than domestic dogs resent the fact that they aren't wolves."
"I'm sure there are some dogs that would rather be wolves," Hakamata shrugged. "I would rather be a wolf, too, but that is beside the point," it really was. "Perhaps there are some bay bears who would rather be sea lions, but the one that I spent significant time with as a child always seemed
happier than any human I knew."
Shriker cocked her head, clearly reading something between the lines, "you weren't born in Black Forest proper, were you? You're from somewhere else in the Isles."
Hakamata nodded. "Atlis," he replied.
"Before or after the coup?" Kazetani asked, eyebrow raised.
"During," Hakamata said dryly, "which is why you've never met, or heard of, any person claiming to be a close relative of mine."
"Sorry," Kazetani grimaced. "Shouldn't have asked."
So the Japanese Civil War was not Hakamata's first, either. "It was a long time ago," Hakamata stared resolutely at the nearest bay bears, shutting down any further questions. The sleek creatures turned beady eyes on the passing ferry. Izuku waved and one of them bark-roared at him, lifting a paw in greeting. It was stunningly adorable.
"I like them," Izuku decided without further deliberation.
"I've never met anybody who didn't," Shriker said as she, too, waved at the bears.
"I have," Kazetani's smirk was disconcertingly reminiscent of Fossa's in his darkest moments. "But he was trying to drown someone in the harbor and was executed a week later, so I don't think he counts."
"Should that count?" Samara muttered under her breath.
The ferry glided into Blue Albatross Bay and the city proper came into view, architecture intertwined with the black sequoias that coated the island like dark green mint sauce on a chocolate cake. No building stood higher than three or four stories, the trees dominating the landscape in every sense. The city spread perhaps a tenth of the way up the mighty mountain, Tectonic's Spire, that accounted for the bulk of the island, the urban outskirts curling around the bay like a protective serpent. The city covering only a pittance of the mountain did not imply that the city was small, merely that Tectonic's Spire was massive. Dozens of gondola lines crisscrossed Black Forest, providing mass transit solutions for a world where large motor vehicles were as rare as four leafed clovers and streets broad enough to accommodate them were rarer still. Given how many he had spotted so far, autogyros, helicopters, hang gliders and relatives were probably more common in Black Forest than automobiles.
"I didn't realize the island was so big in comparison to the city itself," Izuku murmured.
"Yeah. It gets confusing, too, what you mean by it. If you say Black Forest, you can mean the city or the island," Samara explained, "and if you mean the city in particular you have to say Black Forest City to be sure you get the point across. There are other places where people live, of course, though I don't believe any of the other settlements have more than a hundred people or so. Some are more like off the grid communes than real towns."
"If you want modern utilities, the city is where you live," Hakamata broke in.
"How many people actually live here?" It was hard to judge. Izuku was used to more densely populated cities, the kind dominated by skyscrapers rather than trees.
"There are about two million permanent residents on the island," Kazetani answered. "Others come
and go. Like us."
One of the bay bears pulled alongside the ferry, silky head poking through the churning water as dark eyes inspected the lot of them. A moment later another head appeared, then another. "Are they... checking us for something?" Izuku asked.
"Well, we said they're more lifeguard than coastguard, but they do check new arrivals," Shriker explained, "mostly by scent. They never forget one. If they spot somebody who's been exiled from the island, or somebody who smells off, either because they're afraid or in the mood for murder, they'll make a fuss at the Ferry Building."
"Are they going to make a fuss about us?" Izuku wondered. "I'm certainly a bit afraid... or well, more nervous I guess." He was finally going to see Switcher after all this time. He should know what to expect. He'd shared so many of Switcher's memories, but those were all from decades ago at best, and warped through the eyes of dozen of different Switchblades, all with their own personalities. What was Switcher like now? Would he be threatened, insulted, by what Izuku had unintentionally acquired from him? There were memories that Izuku had barged in on that he couldn't imagine the general would have willingly shared with anyone.
"No," Hakamata shook his head. "Well, that one might make a fuss about me, but not a bad fuss."
"Your old friend?"
"Yes," Hakamata waved and received a cheerful chirping noise in reply.
Smaller powerboats, recreational sailing vessels, canoes, zodiacs, and towering yachts trundled around the bay, keeping their distance from their larger vessel's choppy wake.
The Ferry Building was massive, five stories tall, shining in bright white, decorated with mosaics and murals depicting everything from abstract art to scenes from South American myth. He'd have to take a closer look at them sometime, read all the inscriptions.
The ferry slowed as it approached the docks, coming to a stop so smoothly Izuku wasn't sure they'd arrived until the gangplanks lowered and several thousand people began to disembark, emerging from their seats below deck and filing into a messy line.
Izuku trotted behind Shriker, ahead of Kazetani, and claimed a spot on the huge boardwalk where the crowd awaited entryc. The gates and turnstiles remained resolutely locked for the moment, waiting as the last stragglers collected their luggage and made their way down the gangplanks.
"Gentlecreatures of all kinds," called a tall, blonde man on a balcony. A blue, conical hat perched on his head like a confused seagull. "You are now in Black Forest. Congratulations. It's a wonderful place. The rules here are simple," to either side of him huge screens illuminated and translations of his voice appeared in bold font in three dozen languages. "You are responsible for knowing the rules and regulations of Black Forest. There are capital offenses in Black Forest. These include murder, trafficking of sapient creatures, acts of violation, egregious abuse of authority over a sentient being, and acts of exceptional cruelty perpetrated with malice aforethought whose impact can be argued to equal or exceed an act of sapient trafficking, murder, abuse of authority or violation." Nedzu had listed these for Izuku once upon a time, hadn't he? "If you don't know whether what you are doing would fall under one of these categories, chances are good you should not be doing it. Newcomers should make special note that killing a bay bear is absolutely considered murder in Black Forest, and tends to be punished even more harshly than violence against humans."
"We all love the bears," Samara agreed quietly.
"There are house rules besides these. If you break something, you will be expected to buy it or fix it. You may not have weapons of mass destruction, including radioactive materials, potent poisons, or anything that could be used as a bioweapon in Black Forest unless you have very explicit, special permission from the Switchboard." That was the aptly named ruling council, apparently. It was a little disconcerting that the announcer had to make a special point of this. "Trafficking of endangered species or their body parts is also forbidden, but vigilante justice tends to take care of that problem." Samara snorted at that, smiling. The other natives of Black Forest seemed to find this amusing, too. Presumably Izuku would be in on the joke soon enough. "Similarly, if you destroy a black sequoia without proper permission, there will be consequences.
"Do to others as you would have them do to you. Servii is always watching, and what you take from others will be taken from you as what you give to others will be given to you. Now then, with the unpleasant formalities out of the way, welcome to Black Forest. Please see a guide in a pointed hat if you have additional questions about how things work here."
As the gates opened and travelers began to file through the turnstiles, a bay bear crawled surprisingly elegantly across the dock and excitedly nuzzled at Hakamata's leg. "Hello, Ceta," the hero told her, rubbing the bear's rounded ears. She trilled at him. "I will be back to see you soon," he promised, giving her (it was a her, right?) ears another scratch. She yawned and oh yes, the name "bay bear" made sense. He could see it now.
"What beautiful teeth she has." Samara grinned. "Alright. Come on. We're getting a suite at Silvia's Saloon."
"We are?" Shriker asked. "Well, you can if you like. I'm going home. I'm having a bit of a celebration this evening, though. I owe many, many people drinks after all of that business."
"I'm sure we'll be there. Where do you live?" Flag asked.
Shriker's explanation was incomprehensible. Addresses in Black Forest seemed to be ad hoc, but what did it matter? Izuku was just following Flag. It was liberating not to think, liberating to trust the person in front of him and fall in line. No stress. No stakes. He could relax.
The interior of the Ferry Building was a cross between a mall and an airport. Stained glass in the skylights cast glimmering geometric patterns across polished stone floors. There were hotels, department stores, tourist traps, a zoo for some reason, a... culinary school? Sure. Why not? Oh, and an strip club. Two strip clubs. It was both bizarre and entirely expected.
They threaded their way through the crowds towards the buildings yawning maw. Somebody with a similar impression to Izuku had attached huge, sculpted teeth to the entrance's overhang. This was clearly the work of a prankster long after the building's construction but apparently everybody had decided it was funny and let it be.
Their small group passed beneath the fangs, entering a main square crowded with bicycles, electric scooters, hurried pedestrians, a massive bird offering air taxi rides, and long lines for the gondolas.
Izuku wasn't the only one who noticed her instantly. "There's the Switchblade strut," Samara hummed.
"Good morning everyone," the Switchblade greeted them with a brilliant smile. The host couldn't have been more than twenty, hair as bright red as a strawberry pulled back in a pair of tight braids that matched Izuku's.
"Good morning," they chorused.
"What should we call you?" Kazetani asked.
"I'm Switcher," he replied, "pure and simple today. She is happy to work with me," he gestured to his head, "but she does not much care to be awake for the duration." So Switcher's current host preferred to be smothered out of existence? That was... a little unsettling. Was that what Izuku had allowed once upon a time, a complete end to his personal existence to the point that Switcher would have introduced himself by name, leaving Izuku out of the arrangement entirely? Switcher nodded to each of them in turn. "What are you calling yourselves these days?"
Shriker huffed. "You know me." "Samara," Flag told him. "Kaeda," War Dog winked. "Tsunagu."
"Izuku."
Switcher narrowed his eyes. "I know you..." he whispered, looking Izuku up and down.
"I... should hope so," Samara glanced between them. "Given that we're all ex-Switchblades."
"Oh..." Switcher slapped a hand against his forehead. "Oh, I see. It's you."
"Kuma told me to tell you that you're an idiot," Izuku got it out of the way, speaking so quickly his words blurred together.
The former general's eyes widened ever so slightly, a large tell of shock by Switcher's standards. "I think we need to speak in private."
Switcher had only just closed the door to the conference room and sunk into one of the faux-leather spinny chairs when Izuku stated the obvious. "You don't remember me." It explained a lot. Switcher must have been as destroyed by War Dog's quirk as Izuku.
Switcher sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I remember a few things. Kaeda's bite did a number on both of us. I had not meant to leave you in some abandoned alley with no explanation... You were possessed twice," he explained. "I left you to possess Shigaraki Tomura while I... negotiated with All For One." Izuku couldn't help but giggle at that description. "My recollection of that encounter is good enough for me to be utterly horrified by how unbelievably stupid I was. I then took you again to get us both out of there... and that went very poorly."
"You couldn't hold onto me again," Izuku nodded. "After you left my mind once."
"Yes. It had not... there was clearly something wrong from the moment Kaeda bit us, but it did not come to a head until after I left and returned. I believe almost all the effects of Kaeda's ability should have worn off by now..."
"She said that mind control and possession quirks should work... mostly normally on me by now," Izuku agreed. He'd had a long chat about the particulars on the ride over and still wasn't sure how he felt about any of it. Some of the effects would remain forever. He would always feel the scar throb when War Dog approached him beneath a hunter's moon, but chances were that if Shinsou attempted to brainwash him now it would work normally.
Switcher nodded in agreement. "I didn't remember a thing at first. I was not even sure that I had..." he didn't try to hide his embarrassment, "finished my unbelievably foolish self-assigned task."
"Kuma says I'm supposed to tell you you're an idiot."
"Yes, you said as much already. Kuma has a point, as usual," he paused, considering. "You have spoken to her echo frequently?" So he understood how that worked, to some extent at least.
"Every once in a while. She was good company when I was a spy in the PLF."
Switcher took a very deep breath and blew it out violently. "I have the strange feeling that this is somehow my fault."
"Well, I suppose indirectly maybe."
Switcher just sighed and shook his head. "I am sorry. I knew what I was doing was beyond morally questionable. I have regretted it often in the interim, especially as I was not sure whether you had survived your close encounter with my stupidity." Izuku giggled and Switcher just shook his head. "I am very sorry that I dragged you into this. I've lived a long time. I should know better. I had my truce with All For One. He ignored me, I ignored him. To the victor the spoils... to the loser Black Forest. Even when I learned that he'd taken Kuma's meta ability, even when I learned what he had been doing with it, I should have left him be. I was just so angry..."
"I don't blame you," Izuku replied. "I would have--did do the same."
"How much do you remember?" Switcher asked.
"So..." Izuku bit his lip. "I don't remember much of the week I was a Switchblade, but I obtained a very large set of second-hand memories from you. I see them in dreams, mostly." Izuku paused his explanation to let Switcher swear. He didn't seem angry with Izuku, though. "They're mostly from the MLA War. Some are more recent I think."
"I am so sorry," Switcher shook his head. "I... you shouldn't have had to see that."
"I shouldn't have had to see the PLF War, either, but that's just how things are," Izuku shrugged. "And, without the war memories, and the muscle memories I got from you, I would be dead dozens of times over by now and Shigaraki would still be alive." There was no need for the general to feel guilty about the chaos he had wrought in Izuku's life. Really, Izuku felt guilty for having barged in on all these private, intimate moments of Switcher's past without permission.
Switcher raised an eyebrow. "I need an explanation of that last point."
"So, do you remember the time that Destro disappeared from a bowling alley?" "Yes..."
"And he said he had been summoned to the future to kill All For One's heir? Or, what did he say about it?"
"No way..." Switcher shook his head. "That was you? You were the one who brought him forward in time? It was Shigaraki that he killed?" So Destro had kept the specifics to himself, perhaps leery of potentially altering the timeline.
"It was me," Izuku grinned, a bit of Fossa's nastiness sneaking into his smile. "I got to watch Chikara kill him. It was amazing. I wish you could have seen it, Switcher..."
"I think you can call me Rafael," the general decided. "Yes. I would have liked to see that. Chikara's explanation of what happened was... well, it sounded insane out of context."
"It was pretty insane in context, too."
Rafael chuckled, a glint of longing in his eyes. "Why don't you tell me the whole story, everything you are comfortable with, anyway."
He was comfortable with everything. For the very first time, he didn't hold anything back. Switcher would keep his secrets as he had kept the secrets of a thousand Switchblades throughout the decades. Many of these secrets were Switcher's secrets, too, things they would never share with another living creature, not in this way, raw and unguarded and unafraid of judgment.
A few hours later, Rafael stepped out to fetch them some food--fish and chips. They had moved on from reviewing Izuku's insane life in the PLF war to reminiscing about the MLA War, reliving triumphs, mourning tragedies, like the old war buddies they were. It felt like coming home, every bit as much as returning to UA, to Katsuki and his mother, as if part of Izuku's soul had been lost on this island, waiting for him to come reclaim it.
In time they turned from the past to the future, looking forward as Destro had bid them. "I was going to be a hero. Finally. I'd wanted it all my life and then because of what happened with you," Rafael winced again, "oh, stop it. I thought you were over this an hour ago. I don't blame you for anything."
"Too forgiving."
"Anyway, because of what happened with you, I finally had a way to be a hero... to have a purpose... and now all of that is gone and I don't have a clue what I want to do anymore. Even if I could still be a hero, if that were still a thing in Japan, I'm not sure I would want to, I mean, after the war... I don't know. I don't feel it anymore, I guess."
"It is alright not to know what you want to do with your entire life just yet," Rafael replied.
"I liked being useful," Izuku admitted. "Looking back, it's awful, all of it, the whole civil war is even worse looking back on it now than it was when I was there, but when I was a spy in the Citadel I was useful and now..." what more use could he possibly be? He was unlikely to ever find himself in such a key position ever again.
"How would you feel about running a city for a time?" Switcher asked.
"Wha-oh."
"I do not remember you," Rafael continued, "not really; what little I do know of our time wreaking havoc across Japan... well, it had its high and low points. I want to know you like I know all of my other hosts. And," he fiddled with his hair self-consciously, "I would certainly not mind a chance to see Kuma again, if that were possible." It well might be. That alone, the chance to offer a reunion to two of his oldest friends, would have been enough to seal the deal.
There was an instinctive lance of fear through his chest at the thought of allowing himself to be possessed again, but it faded in an instant. No, he was not afraid of Rafael, not afraid to be a Switchblade again for a time, maybe for a long time. Running Black Forest... yes, he could get behind this idea. He'd said he was looking for a way to be useful and this would certainly count. "Yeah. Yeah, alright. I want to be conscious, though, and I want to remember it all."
"I presumed as much," Switcher nodded, reaching forward to brush his fingers across Izuku's knuckle, presumably a requirement to set his next target. "I'm going to take Vera to lay down and then I will be with you. Give me five minutes."
"I'll wait here?"
"That is for the best," Switcher nodded.
The minutes passed like hours, Izuku's blood boiling with anticipation. Would it be different this time? Would he still feel as if someone were perched on his shoulder, watching him, or would they blend together right away? Had War Dog's quirk really run its course or was this experiment going to end messily with both of them the worse for it? His eyelids turned to lead abruptly and his head fell to the table, too heavy to hold up--and then they blinked his eyes open.
"Perfect blending," the Switchblade hummed, getting to his feet and stretching. It wasn't like the first time, not Switcher standing on Izuku's shoulder or dissolving Izuku out of existence and then wearing him like a coat. He was Izuku and he was Switcher and it felt utterly right, the blending almost unnoticeable, seamless, like the hue of the sky fading from blue to red at a sunset's horizon. It was like this with Chikara, with Kuma, with Alexey, back in the day.
Switcher's memory--barring the poisonous effects of War Dog's teeth--was perfect and effectively boundless. He would remember this, would remember Izuku, until the last sapient creature on the planet heaved its final breath. Every Switchblade could take comfort in this brand of immortality, as Switcher took comfort in their memories, cradling his old friends within his soul, sharing with his newcomers his past companions' stories to cement their status as legends.
It was, however, a rare day indeed when any Switchblade felt this right. It was worthy of celebration, all of the Switchboard's business was concluded for the day, and he knew where to find the best party in the city.
He made his way down the mountain, stepping with the confidence of a demigod. Servii loomed above him, about him and below him in endless beauty, and he could feel Epona's laughter echoing through the branches of the child she had reared. The setting sun cast a cheerful blaze across the sparkling water as a small herd of children rushed past, each armed with an ice cream cone.
Shriker's home was nothing more than a cottage, but the yard surrounding it more than accommodated the fifty guests she had rounded up--and the handful of party crashers everyone had decided to ignore. Polite party crashing was a time-honored tradition in Black Forest. Technically speaking, he was party crashing right now. Rafael had been invited and Izuku had been invited, but Rafael and Izuku had not been invited.
It didn't matter, though.
Samara--for all that she was liable to shout at him later for his questionable decisions that had set Izuku's mad story into motion--waved as she caught sight of him trotting down the road and a massive grin split her face. "There's that Switchblade strut."