Murmurs rose and fell. They were too low for Midoriya to make out, really— not that he tried too hard. His own mind was stuck, frozen, locked onto the golden and silver stitching of a gleaming sword, and firm, strong hands, that even in a woven tapestry spoke of a strong warrior. Such a small detail, but it was the details that told a person's story. Midoriya liked seeing the details, recognizing patterns, and putting pieces together. Perhaps that was why he was so stuck on this. A puzzle of sorts had been presented to him, and now he itched to put it together.

Magic, and monsters, and kings, and now, a Champion. Who was missing, at that. Midoriya frowned as he stared down at his dusty boots, mind whirring. He'd never heard of this Champion before. At least. He didn't think so. The only warriors he'd known before were those of the Guild, strong and fierce, using their flame and prowess to protect their clan. Somehow, this Champion seemed different . After all, no one wove tapestries of the Guildsmen or women.

And the whispers . Why the whispers?

Whatever the king had discussed with them left Hadou and Uraraka tense, angry, even. Hadou's voice was curt, curtsey stiff, and Uraraka possessed a smolder in her eyes, simmering just below the surface. And they whispered.

A sharp, derisive snort cracked in the air, and Midoriya's gaze jerked up to Hadou and Uraraka a few paces ahead. Like before, they walked so close they were nearly bumping shoulders, heads bent close together as they murmured back and forth. Hadou tossed her head, shoulders taut and hands darting about. A breeze picked up, and Midoriya couldn't help but shiver.

"That cocky asshole -"

Wind whipped at Midoriya's face and clawed at his hair, and a strangled yelp tore from his throat at the sudden gust. Instantly, Hadou and Uraraka whirled around, eyes wide, and Midoriya flushed with embarrassment. "So-sorry," he stammered. Uraraka stifled a giggle behind her hand, eyes soft.

"It's okay, it's not your fault Hadou-san can't control herself." That teasing lilt to her voice had Midoriya grinning despite himself, and he snickered along with Uraraka at Hadou's indignance. She huffed, lips drawn in a pout and arms crossed over her chest.

" Ex-cuse me, I'm not the one that nearly blew the roof off the shop!"

Uraraka's giggles bled into a whine, and she hid her face in her hands. "Hadou-san!"

"Nope, you don't get to whine at me, 'Chako," Hadou chirped, chin raised in defiance. "You brought this on yourself, trying to tease me first." Her gaze slid to Midoriya's then, her pout melting into a grin that was downright devious. "Have I ever told you that story?"

Midoriya gulped. Uraraka whined again, hands on her cheeks and gaze pleading. His heart flip-flopped in his chest— gods, she was cute— but one look back to Hadou's curved grin and his head was shaking on its own accord. She snickered. "Oh, well, this one's a doozy—"

"Hadou-san!"

~#~#~#~

Laughter filled the space between them as they made their way back into town, the castle and its mysteries shrinking behind them.

"—and I told him that's not what a luck charm does, but did he listen? No, of course not." Hadou rolled her eyes and huffed. She tossed a hand in the air, exasperated. "No, he still demanded I make the dang thing, insisting that he was right, which. He wasn't. But hey, customer's always right, or whatever."

Midoriya wheezed, tears burning at his eyes, he was laughing so hard. Uraraka's shoulder knocked his, and she leaned close, laughing so hard her face was red and oh, gods, she was adorable. His laughter choked, and he stumbled, face ablaze. Uraraka laughed even harder, then, her hair falling into her face like a curtain. She staggered, skirts swaying, a stray tear sliding free. Midoriya forgot how to breathe for a moment. His heart pounded in his chest and he felt a little dizzy and he kind of wanted to hear her laugh forever.

"Yeah, hilarious, I know." Hadou scoffed as they turned the corner, boots scuffing as she kicked at the cobblestone. "So Imagine by absolute joy when the idiot shows back up, whining that it didn't work."

"What did you do?" Midoriya asked, eyes wide. Hadou snickered.

"Oh, I politely explained to him that the next time he wants a charm, he should listen to the witch making it, and if he didn't leave my shop in the next twenty seconds, I'd hex him so bad he'd be cursed to roam the earth as a pathetic ghoul for the rest of eternity."

Uraraka gasped, eyes wide. "Hadou-san!"

"What? It wasn't like I was actually going to." She waved her hand, hair bouncing as she skipped along. "It was back when I was in the Akita region— you know, where everyone knows jack all about practised magic. Not like he knew the difference." Hadou shrugged, nonchalant, but Uraraka still seemed… perturbed. Her brows were drawn, worry glittering in her ochre eyes, and she stared off into the distance as though lost in thought.

"Still, you can't just threaten that kind of thing," she said, voice low, gaze darting about. "Besides, you told us how dangerous hexes are and that you shouldn't take them lightly—"

Hadou snorted. "Yes, and I spoke the truth. And you should do as I say. But the point still stands that it was epic and I don't regret it for a second."

Her mirth, while usually contagious, fell to the wayside in the wake of Uraraka's creased frown. She fiddled with her hands, gaze unfocused and staring ahead through the throngs of people meandering down the street. Midoriya watched her, the new term burning in his mind. Hexes …

"Wha-what's a hex?" he blurted, voice cracking and echoing a bit more than he intended. A few heads turned their way, gazes scandalized or indignant. Midoriya shrunk closer to Hadou and Uraraka, embarrassment burning at his cheeks. Okay, so clearly whatever hexes were, they weren't something people liked all that much. Noted.

Uraraka glanced about and linked her arm with his, the touch sending a pleasant bolt of warmth through him. She threw a wide, exaggerated grin and waved at the passersby, dragging him along. "Hexes," Uraraka murmured, voice low, "are a form of dark magic. Very dangerous and unpredictable, and definitely not something any good magic user dabbles in for fun."

Hadou linked with his other arm and hummed. "Most rulers outlaw their use. 'Course, it's magic, and kind of hard to enforce, but. They try."

He frowned at that. Everything was lopsided and upside down, here. Midoriya felt like he'd climbed so high that the world was spinning, round and round and round. Everything and nothing made sense all at once, and all of these new things he learned made him feel like a speck of dust amongst giants. Magic— there was so much he had to learn, it seemed. A never ending well of information, bubbling forth all around him. He couldn't bring himself to focus as the conversation shifted, brows pinching and gaze unseeing as magic and its intricacies rolled over and over in his mind.

Midoriya hardly noticed when Hadou slipped her grasp from him, flouncing towards the shop door. Oh, wow, they were back already. Uraraka gave his arm a squeeze before letting go too, skipping through the doorway after Hadou.

Just as when they left, the shop was empty, save for Yaoyorozu perched on her stool behind the counter, brows furrowed as he examined a scroll of parchment. She glanced up from her work as they stomped their way inside, steely gaze gleaming in the low light. Her lips pursed, and she straightened as Hadou unfastened her cloak with a sigh.

"How was the king?" she asked. Hadou huffed.

"Arrogant as ever. Hauled us all the way to the castle for a dramatic summons just so he could ask me about the dang sword." She tossed her hair with a huff, stomping her way to the storeroom. "Quite rude, if you ask me."

Sword…? Midoriya's brows furrowed at that. A summons, for a sword? His mind jumped to strong hands wrapped around an intricately woven pommel, and his heart pounded in his chest. Yaoyorozu looked from Ochako to Hadou, eyes wide with alarm. "Please tell me you didn't address him like that!"

"Please, I have manners," Hadou quipped. She hung on the doorway as if standing was tiring, rolling her eyes. "But that doesn't mean I can't complain."

Yaoyorozu looked as though she wanted to argue, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. But she deflated after a moment with a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I...suppose."

Hadou just waved her hand and disappeared, her voice echoing behind her. "Yeah yeah, King Enji's a customer, whatever. We'll talk later, I'm starving!"

Izuku looked to Uraraka, who just sighed and shook her head. She smiled wryly and inclined her head. "Food does sound pretty good right about now…"

And so Izuku followed her back, satchel sagging from his shoulder and mind ablaze.

~#~#~#~

Sleep was evasive. Izuku laid on his small bed, quilt rucked around him as he stared up at the soft moonlight painting the eaves and arches overhead. His body ached with exhaustion, but his mind refused to rest, instead rolling over and over the image of a gleaming pommel and hints of a broad blade. He couldn't quite get the image out of his head. For some reason the tapestry's stitching was stuck there, tacked up in pieces and snippets every time he closed his eyes. Izuku sighed. Maybe he just…needed a drink? Perhaps? Izuku sighed again.

They kept a bucket of fresh water in the little kitchen, collected from the well every morning. Something that Izuku had been sort of picking up as a task.

The floor, cool under his bare feet, creaked and groaned as he stepped carefully to his door. Izuku opened it slowly, careful to not let the hinges squeak too loudly. The last thing Izuku wanted was to wake the girls. So he slipped into the hall as quietly as he could, careful to close the door with nothing more than a gentle click. It was then that he heard the voices drifting down the hall. Izuku froze, casting a glance into the shadows. It was well into the night— when he'd glanced out his window, the moon was high in the sky. So, who was awake? A quick glance, and Izuku thought that perhaps he could see faint flickers of candlelight bleed out from beneath Uraraka and Yaoyorozu's door. He chewed his lip, curiosity tugging at him with a vengeance.

What could be so important, that they spoke about it in the shadows of the night instead of sleeping? Izuku found himself inching forward, ears perked as the voices drew nearer. It was Uraraka and Yaoyorozu. He could hear the soft timbers of their voices rising and falling with more clarity as he drew near.

"...really thought you knew?"

"Well, he thought we'd have clues, or something. Y'know. Magical witches should know the rhymes to find a magical sword, right?"

There was a sigh. "There's only so much history actually documented about the sword, and I'm fairly certain King Enji already has access to those materials." A creak, from a bed perhaps. Then, "I wish I could say I'm surprised. But I know he's not the only one trying to get ahold of it— my mother wrote about the king up north sending knight after knight on frugal searches for it."

Izuku's brows pinched together. Magic sword? He remembered Hadou mentioning a sword, earlier. Why would the king care about a magical sword? Could swords even be magical? He thought of the cutlass he'd taken to slay the monster. That weapon surely wasn't magical in the slightest.

Perhaps he'd have won much quicker, if it had been.

"I just… Isn't it a bit hasty? What if the Champion is still out there?"

Silence, pensive and long, swelled from the other side of the door. Yaoyorozu shattered it with a whisper that Izuku could barely hear. "Ochako… He's been gone for five years. I think...he'd have shown himself, by now…"

Izuku bit his lip. He quietly shuffled back towards his room, all thoughts of the water bucket forgotten.

~#~#~#~

The warped, weatherworn door rattled on its hinged when Midoriya knocked. He took a step back, out into the street, as he waited for the door to creak open a sliver. Wide eyes glowed from the shadows, and Midoriya waved with a shy grin. "I-I, uh, have ya-you're order from Winds Apothecary." He grasped at his satchel and raised it into view, only for the door to slam in his face.

There was a muffled shout, and some pounding footsteps, and the door flew open wide, revealing the lined face of Ikoma. Her lips drawn in an ever permanent frown, she met Midoriya's gaze with a sigh. "Here." From the worn pocket on her apron, she produced three silver coins, which Midoriya pocketed. He then unclasped the flap of his satchel and fished out the correct burlap wrapped vial, and handed it over.

Ikoma hardly even glanced at it— Midoriya was getting quite good at his job— and the door slammed shut once more. He sighed. "Have a good day." His gaze dropped to his satchel, and Midoriya took a moment to refasten it. Losing any of the charms and potions was not an option, after all. He then stepped back down into the street and started off to his next delivery.

Time passed strangely, here. Back in the mountains, days slid past slow and languid, like sap oozing from the bark of a tree and dripping down, down, down, into the dirt below. Here, in the city, it passed in a chaotic blur, as if Midoriya dunked his head into a stream over and over, each time surfacing into a new day, or week, or month. Things were fast paced, here, and Midoriya felt like he was barely treading water at times.

At the same time, he felt very much like he was amid still waters. Days might have blinked on by, but they were full of a lot of the same. Most of his days were spent helping at the shop. Midoriya was now officially Winds Apothecary Shop's delivery boy. Every morning after breakfast, he and Uraraka spent an hour organizing the orders to go and he ran them out throughout the entire city. The deliveries always took up the entirety of his morning, and by noon he was trekking back with an empty satchel and empty stomach. He'd refuel, repack his satchel, and do another round before the evening time, and by then Midoriya was dead on his feet.

Dinner was had all together in the living space, and Midoriya's days finished with he and Uraraka bent over scraps of parchment while she taught him letters.

Midoriya's reading comprehension, or lack thereof, had become something of contention rather early on. It was within the first weeks, when Yaoyorozu insisted he received an assigned role within their shop if he was going to eat their food and use their guest room, that the delivery position was thrust onto him. "You can deliver for us, i-if you want," Uraraka said, head dipped and bangs curtaining her face. She fiddled with her fingers, peeking at him with a nervousness he rarely saw on her. He felt his own face heat.

"Ye-yes, I'd like that." He didn't bother bringing up how little of a choice he had in the matter— Midoriya knew little of this culture, but he knew enough that his chances on his own were slim at best. If Uraraka realized as much, she didn't bring it up either. It didn't matter, he was grateful for a way to give back. They had done so much for him…it was the least he could do.

That said, delivering was a lot harder than it seemed. Uraraka had made it look easy, that second day, reading the parchments and grabbing the appropriate vials for him. On his own, he was left standing in the storeroom, empty satchel clutched in his fist, gaze sweeping over the shelves upon shelves of crates, the squiggles of ink on the labels foreign to him. Midoriya had gone to Uraraka after a bit, holding the stack of parchment in trembling hands, and sheepishly asked for some help.

"You...don't know how to read?" She gawked at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging open. Disbelief stained her tone, and her words echoed a bit across the shop floor. Her outburst garnered stares from Hadou and Yaoyorozu, in varying degrees of bafflement. Midoriya's face burned, and he ducked his head.

"Um...no…"

His admittance caused quite the uproar.

"What do you mean , you don't know? No one ever thought to teach you?" Yaoyorozu cradled a cheek in her hand, eyes wide with horror. It was as though his lack of a literary education was an insult to the gods, or something. "This needs to be rectified immediately!" she cried. Hadou snorted a laugh.

"What, are you gonna cram years' worth of learning and practice into his head right now? 'Cuz I don't think it works that way, Momo."

Yaoyorozu huffed, face flushed. "That-that's not what I meant and you know it!"

Hadou just laughed. "Sure it isn't." She patted Yaoyorozu's shoulder. "There, there. We can help sort the orders out for him today, and start reading lessons later."

Thus an hour later, Midoriya found himself attempting to weave his way through the busy streets, deliveries carefully packed away in his satchel and a parchment with a carefully drawn, ink map clutched tightly in his hands. Still, he got lost numerous times that day, having had to ask various civilians for directions. It had been...overwhelming, to say the least, and he remembered Uraraka and Hadou having to hunt him down despite the map they'd made him. That very night, they all sat him down and began teaching him how to read.

It had been quite chaotic, with a lot of yelling, arguing, and laughing.

"That is the worst drawn letter I have ever seen. Are you certain you know how to write?" Yaoyorozu said, as she tilted her head and squinted down at the parchment. It was late, and they were working by candlelight, which made seeing a bit difficult. They were making due, though.

Hadou pouted over her section of parchment, the ink blotched and cramped. "You didn't have a problem with my letters this morning, Momo." She jabbed at the air with her quill, droplets of ink flying through the air.

"Oh, I did, I'm just used to your terrible handwriting. But Deku needs to learn how to actually write!"

"Guys, please, can we focus!"

"Not until Momo admits that my writing isn't terrible."

Midoriya just bit his lip and focused on peering down at the inked scrawls. The bickering continued through the course of the evening, eventually ending when Uraraka's pleading eventually won out, and she managed to eventually convince the other two she was capable of doing it herself. Without the squabbling. And thus, their routine was built. He was grateful, really, and now Midoriya felt that he was starting to get the hang of things. The reading, the writing, the delivering. It was all now a part of the day's work, and he no longer felt as though he struggled keeping his head above the water, so to speak.

He adjusted the strap of his satchel and sighed. The sun was climbing high into the sky— soon, it would be time to pause for lunch. Midoriya set off towards his next destination, a house at the end of the corner, and kept up a brisk pace. Usually, Midoriya liked to finish deliveries on this side of the city in the morning, so he could hit the castle after lunch.

King Enji apparently ordered a lot from them. Midoriya was running out there at least a few times a week, various potions and charms packed carefully in his satchel awaiting delivery. Midoriya had no idea what their purpose even was— there were so many spells and potions that it made his head spin whenever Uraraka tried listing them off, and he still wasn't entirely sure of their purposes— but he figured they had to be important if the king kept buying them. Right?

Another door, another round of knocking, another exchange of coins. Midoriya kept this up down the street and through the next, only pausing to swipe the sweat from his brow. There was now a distinct jangle as his satchel thumped against him. It was satisfying, in a way— a signal of the hard work he was putting in.

Midoriya let out a breath as he pocketed another handful of coins. There. Now he could eat lunch. He turned down one of the shaded alleyways, just a stone's toss from his last residence. The alleyway was right across a street corner, the separation from residential houses to shops and storefronts. Midoriya hummed softly under his breath as he let his feet carry him down the familiar path into the shadows— he'd found this secluded space a week or so prior. Alongside the right building arose a stack of abandoned and broken barrels and crates. The stack was high, at least a head or so above him, and there was a little pocket amidst the pile where Midoriya could relax in peace, away from prying eyes.

He tossed a glance both ways. The alleyway was empty. Midoriya ducked between a gap, careful to avoid snagging his tunic on splintered wood, where a lone crate sat, unbroken. He settled onto it with a sigh. It creaked under his weight, but held, and Midoriya tugged off his satchel and rummaged inside. He found his prize— a wedge of goat cheese, wrapped in wax paper and tied in a bow by Uraraka this morning— and dropped the satchel beside his crate as he meticulously tugged the knot loose to get to his prize. One bite and he groaned, flavors exploding across his tongue. The cheese just melted in his mouth. He would have to remember to thank Uraraka, later, for packing this up for him. She was usually the one that prepared a lunch for him in the morning, always presenting it with a wide and happy grin.

For a moment, he stared at the goat cheese cradled in his hands, overwhelmed with feelings that just swelled up from inside. How had he gotten so...lucky? Uraraka and Hadou and Yaoyorozu were gracious enough to give him a place to sleep, a job to do, food to eat... It seemed he'd never stop owing them something.

He took another bite of cheese, staring at the worn cobblestone underfoot, thoughtful. Perhaps he could get another job…? That way he could at least pay them back for the tunic… But then it would be harder to deliver all the charms and potions— that always took all day, as of late. Uraraka insisted they'd slow down soon, as winter's chill settled over the city, slowing most business until the frost and snow receded again.

Midoriya was lost in the chambers of his wandering mind, so much so that he didn't notice the approaching footsteps until the skitter of a loose pebble ricocheting through the alley caught his focus and yanked him back to the present. Midoriya stiffened, heart leaping to his throat. He held his breath, gaze shifting to try and peer through the makeshift blind of rotting and splintering crates. It was impossible to see— there was a canvas tossed over the half on his left, but that meant he was invisible too. So, Midoriya resolved to hold perfectly still, knuckles white as he gripped his cheese slice.

Another pair of footsteps scuffing the cobblestone caught his focus. He gulped. Yaoyorozu had lectured him for hours on the dangers of muggers, here in the city. Cutting purses and bags, cornering unsuspecting citizens and threatening them with knives and clubs and magic.

"You...you're Giran, right?" The voice was thin, airy, and wavered with nerves. There was a deep chuckle.

"Yes, that's right. Saisei, I take it?"

All Midoriya could hear was the roar of his heartbeat in his ears. His lungs burned with the need for air, but terror held him in a vice grip. Breathing meant risking being heard, and his instincts were screaming that being invisible was paramount. So he held his breath.

"So...you...word has it you can help me?" Saisei stammered out his questions, clearly uncomfortable. Midoriya sucked in a breath, brows furrowing. What on earth…?

"Of course. I'm most knowledgeable about the elemental magicks."

A full body shudder ran through Midoriya. What little lunch he'd managed to eat sat heavy in his stomach, and he felt nauseous. That voice...the way he spoke...Midoriya didn't like it one single bit. Still, a horrible curiosity gripped him, and Midoriya found himself shifting forward, the crate beneath him letting out a pained creak that had him freezing in horror. Oh, gods. His eyes blew wide, lungs seizing and fingers digging into the cheese slice. He waited, certain he'd been heard. Silence was agony, truly. Then, voices, and he could breathe again.

"What seems to be your troubles, Saisei?"

There was a pause. A shuffle. "I-I can't seem to control my flame."

"Is that so?"

"Ye-yeah. It's like...if I get angry, all the anger builds up, and explodes right outta me, ya' know? Just last week, I blew the roof off the shop. The whole roof! It was only by the grace of the king that I wasn't clapped in irons!"

Surely, these weren't muggers. Midoriya rose slowly, slowly, to his feet, practically tip-toeing forward to peer around his makeshift blind of stacked, broken crates. As the voices suggested, there were two men, standing within the cusp of the alleyway. One, leaned against the wall, relaxed, arms crossed over his chest. Greasy, graying, mussed hair fell just a bit in his face, and Midoriya thought he could see the gleam of eyewear in the low light, settled just so on the bridge of his nose. There was a cigar sticking out of his mouth, smoke puffing from it with each breath.

The other stood hunched, shifting in place as though nervous. He kept glancing over his shoulder, and Midoriya shrank back, fearful he'd be seen. They may not be muggers, but he had no idea what they were up to, here.

"I see." The man against the wall, Giran, apparently, sighed. "Well, luckily for you, I know just what will help."

Saisei perked up at that. "Yuh-you do?"

Giran pushed himself away from the wall. Midoriya could even see the curved grin from here as he towered over Saisei. Something uneasy settled in his gut. Something...something wasn't right.

"What's your full name?"

"My-my full name?"

Giran dipped his head. "Yes. It's necessary information, so I can fully help you." He stepped even closer, leaning into Saisei's space. "You do want help, right?"

Midoriya could feel the hesitation. He could taste something metallic on his tongue— he'd bitten the inside of his cheek too hard. His insides crawled with the burning want to do something, but Midoriya's feet felt frozen in place. It was like Bakugou's Trial all over again, except there was no sword he could steal and use to his advantage. He forced himself to breathe. Maybe this was nothing strange. Maybe he was just reading this all wrong! Clearly, Saisei wanted to be here, right?

But the way he fidgeted in place, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder, had Midoriya squishing the cheese in his grasp, his whole body trembling.

"Um. O-okay." Saisei squared his shoulders, looking Giran head on. "My name's Saisei Cho. Please, help me."

Giran chuckled. "What an interesting name." He pulled a hand from his pocket, staring at something in his palm. "Saisei Cho." Giran lurched forward, grasping Saisei's shoulder. He reached up with his other hand and pressed his palm, and whatever he held, against Saisei's forehead. "Somnus."

To Midoriya's horror, Saisei collapsed against Giran. The cheese dropped from his grasp, falling to the cobblestone with a dull thud. Magic . A strangled gasp broke from his lips, unbidden, and Midoriya found himself caught under the cutting gaze of Giran. His heart leaped to his throat. Oh, gods.

He was discovered.

"Well, well, well," Giran said. He let the unconscious man slide from his grasp and collapse onto the ground in a heap, stepping around him as casually as though everything about this situation was perfectly normal, and not horribly upside down and backwards. "You really shouldn't be here, kid."

Midoriya took a step back. His gaze darted to Saisei, crumpled on the ground. A complete stranger, and yet, as much as Midoriya's legs shook and every fiber of his body was screaming for him to turn and run, he...he couldn't just leave him. He clenched his fists, gaze cutting back to Giran, who strolled closer, tossing the strange token up in the air, again and again. "Why dontcha come here a sec?" he said, grin wide and nefarious. A shiver ran down his spine. He needed to run. He needed to get help. He needed…

Looking at the heap on the ground had the buzzing in his mind receding. Something solidified. A decision. A course of action. Midoriya darted forward, feet pounding against the cobblestone, adrenaline and determination pumping through his veins and roaring in his ears. If he could just dart past…

But it seemed that Giran was not about to let Midoriya by so easily, for a hand reached out and grasped at the back of his tunic and yanked. Hard. Midoriya hit the ground with a cry, dazed. The world spun and reeled, and Midoriya blinked up at the sliver of bright blue sky in confusion. What…? The seconds of disorientation were all it took for Giran to crouch down and re-enter his line of sight, that crooked grin of his gleaming something awful. He reached forward and pressed something cool against Midoriya's forehead, murmuring , "Somnus."

Heat flashed through his body, accompanied by a strange chill, and sudden exhaustion gripped Midoriya in a choke hold. His instincts were screaming as his entire body relaxed, against his will, limbs like putty, melting into the ground around him. His head lolled, vision blurring as awareness bucked and titled, everything growing fuzzy and muted and strange. Midoriya felt his eyelids start to close. He could hear the scuff of footprints, the murmur of a voice. Was that Giran? What was happening? He wanted to get up, to fight, to help, but he couldn't move. He was...so, so tired.

Distantly, Midoriya thought he saw a flash. He tried to summon his voice, but it caught in his throat. Everything felt numb, his body didn't feel quite like his own. His eyes slid closed, then, hot tears burning at his eyelids.

Hello! Long time no see. I honestly keep forgetting to cross post chapters, haha. I do recommend following this story on Ao3 if you want to be on top of updates! Otherwise, enjoy. 3