People kept trying to comfort him in the dorms. Kendou had tried to talk to him first, then Shinsou for some reason, despite the fact that Neito had only talked to the brainwasher a few times before, then Bakugou had quietly taped a bag full of chocolate cookies to his door with a note that read, "eat me -Cookies" but was obviously written by the blonde on behalf of the confections, then Hound Dog had come by to ask if he needed some professional help...

When it became clear nobody was going to leave him alone, Neito had climbed out the window and made his way to the bushes surrounding an ornamental fountain just outside the new residences on UA property... the new residences where he had finally convinced his parents to move only a week before the PLF killed them. If he had just convinced them to see sense one week earlier they would have been fine.

Midoriya's fate shouldn't affect him as much as the fate of his blood family, but somehow when Nedzu stepped up in front of the assembled classes and told them what they'd all known already--that their missing year mate was long dead and there wouldn't even be a body--it hurt even more than when Kan took Neito aside and presented him with death certificates.

He should just get over it. Plenty of people were much closer to Midoriya than Neito. Bakugou must be beyond devastated and yet still put himself together enough to make cookies. Come on. This was pathetic and why did Neito only bring one handkerchief with him? Now it was pathetic and disgusting.

A box of tissues landed in front of him as if fallen from heaven. Neito stared at it, uncomprehending in his well of pitch-black misery. Mrs. Midoriya--easily recognizable by the verdant hair--took a seat on one of the concrete benches beside the dry, concrete basin. UA didn't have water to waste on frivolous things like fountains anymore, but if Neito kept crying at this rate, maybe UA could run the fountain again after all.

"Don't mind me," the woman said, voice wobbling with emotion, "and keep the box, I have plenty." She had three boxes, in fact, being well prepared for a long crying session.

"Thanks," Neito mumbled.

Every time he got himself back under control, enough to stop sobbing and start sniffling, some new thought crashed over him in a wave and he was a plaything of the dizzying misery again. Fossa had saved his life, had helped so many people, had survived so much, had taken a quirk that wasn't his in stride, risen above every vicious circumstance life forced up on him and why, why couldn't he have a, not happy ending, a decent ending? It wasn't fair and somehow, somewhere, if Neito had been better, faster, stronger, something--it wouldn't have mattered. There was nothing he could have done to save his friend. He could have saved his parents by just being a bit more forceful and persuasive, but no power of Neito's could have saved Fossa. Whether he held any power in a situation or not, the result was the same. Abject failure. What was the point of even living if he could never do anything right ? If he could never save anyone he cared about?

It was no surprise, of course. Neito was a copy-cat. It was his quirk. It was his nature. It was his fate. He would never contribute anything but a pale imitation, would never be genuine, would never be enough. What was the point of even trying?

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Midoriya," he said abruptly.

"Just call me Inko, dear," she said, dabbing her eyes and adding a final tissue to her accumulated pyramid.

"I... I'm Monoma," he introduced himself awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

"You and Izuku were friends?" she asked after a moment.

"Y-yeah," Neito said hesitantly. "We trained together. He saved my life during one of the riots before the war."

"I don't think I heard about that," she murmured, "no details anyway."

Really? That was... she had to know then, painful as it was to visit that memory. "We were on a riot control team together in a part of town that was supposed to be quiet but then it wasn't. A girl stabbed me in the chest," he tapped his ribs, "here. I'm not... I was pretty bad at hand to hand combat back then. I'm better now. Fossa stepped in and grabbed her wrist and ripped the knife out of her hand so she couldn't pull it out and then knocked her down like it was nothing." Inko stared at him with wide eyes, clearly unsure of what to think of the twisted tale of Neito's almost death. "It was one of the most badass things I've ever seen."

The tiniest hint of a smile spread across Inko's lips as she sniffed and reached for another tissue. "I'm glad you remember him. For a long time... we were all... well, he never had many friends until UA and I only had a few myself. I'm glad it didn't," her voice hitched, "end that way."

"He had lots of friends," Neito choked on a sob-laugh. "And lots of conspiracy theories, too."

"What?"

"Yeah, he once convinced Todoroki Shouto that he was a slime mold."

"Convinced--he--what?"

"I don't know," laughing while crying was a very odd sensation. "I only know from the urban legend. I wasn't there."

A few small birds chirped in one of the bushes, chasing each other from branch to branch. They knew nothing of the war. Lucky creatures. They knew death, of course. They knew disease and famine and falcons, but they did not know war. Thank god not all the creatures of the planet were as depraved as humankind.

"Do you need me to call someone for you?" Inko asked eventually.

"I came out here to avoid pushy classmates," he muttered. Oh... he was sitting right by the building where most parents lived... she thought he'd come here to get himself under control before going to see his family. "And my parents were killed two days ago. And here I am, crying even harder than I did when Kan told me--I--"

"A tiger needs a very large door to enter a house," Inko said quietly, approaching and hesitantly looping an arm over his shoulder, "but a house cat may slip in through a much smaller gap." Okay... "Grief is the same, I've found. The largest feelings are often trapped outside for a time... then perhaps the smaller ones enter first and clear the way for their siblings."

"Oh." That made a remarkable amount of sense. It wasn't only Midoriya Izuku Neito grieved now, was it?

"It's going to be dark soon," Inko said, glancing at the ruby stains spreading across the sky as she collected her pile of tissues. "You should come inside. I'll make dinner."

"I'm not sure--"

"I want to hear about this slime mold legend," she said gently. "I won't bother you beyond that, though. Sometimes what we really need is a quiet place to cry, somewhere that doesn't have a curfew in effect. You can take the tunnels back to your own dorm when you're ready to leave, whenever that may be."

She had a good point about the curfew. "Let me call my teacher... I should have told him before I jumped out the window." UA was understandably uptight about keeping track of all students at all times. His mention of window-jumping earned him an incredulous head tilt from Inko.

They were a fitting pair. The child who had just lost his parents and the parent who had just lost her child. She had it worse, though. Children usually outlived their parents. It was terrible but expected. How much worse must it be for parents to outlive their children?