TEN TIMES THE HERO
CHAPTER 23: YOU'RE STILL HERE
MONDAY
…
3 MONTHS AND 27 DAYS UNTIL ARMAGEDDON
Try as he might, Kevin couldn't shake the image of Gwen's frightened, tear stained face from his memory. Rampant thoughts of his girlfriend brought with them a dreadful homesickness. Because damnit, he missed her– a lot. Almost three months had passed since Eon left him stranded in this alternate universe.
She could take care of herself– but still– he worried.
For now, Kevin dabbled with the scrap metal leftover from the entrance exam. When Power Loader tried slowing him down, they argued in circles about whether a car should count as a, "support item." Eventually, after much shouting, the other party conceded– since it was obvious Kevin was no stranger to starting builds from scratch.
When Kevin wasn't watching soap operas in the dorms with Midoriya (Who he swore to secrecy), or rotting of boredom during class, he could be found huddled in this vacant garage. Left to tinker at his own leisure. While his roommate had to adhere to Nezu's strict rules and stipulations, curfew basically didn't apply to him.
His morning routine was simple: Wake up at 6 A.M. Brew a cup of joe. Drink it. Nab a couple pieces of toast and some eggs from the cafeteria. Eat them. At a quarter till 7, head down to the garage and grab a wrench.
If executed perfectly, he would have close to an hour of free time before his ass had to be sat in homeroom.
Last Monday, Kevin's search for cleaning agents in the janitor's closet yielded him a stack of classic hip hop CDs and a dusty boom box. Laying atop a dolly, he rolled himself beneath the car frame and got to work. About ten minutes later, the familiar patter of footfalls made him pause.
"Ever heard of knocking?"
The yellow running shoes tapped expectantly.
Kevin groaned irritably. Why are people always bothering him when he's nose deep in his car? Reluctantly, he rolled himself out from underneath the chassis. Not expecting the skeletal man standing above him, he bonked his forehead on the side skirt.
"Woah! Are you OK, Levin?"
"Yep! Fine and dandy." He grumbled, shifting upright while kneading the area of impact.
Sweating, the hero profusely apologized, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!"
"What do you need, All Might?"
"I… was wondering, if you would care to join me for a quick jog? Just around campus?" That trademark, dauntless smile was plastered across his anemic face as he made running motions.
Kevin considered the invitation as he clicked the power button on the boom box. A little over a week ago, the hero had been on death's door after Nomu beat the brakes off of him. It was hard to believe how much he had recovered in such a short time span. That number one paycheck certainly had its perks.
"Think you can keep up?"
Cardio commenced quickly thereafter, and Kevin was again reminded of how awful his endurance was. Despite being as frail as a toothpick, All Might outpaced him by a mile. He had his Osmosian genes to thank for that. While his muscles were always in tip-top shape– constant absorption of solid matter did that to a person– he lacked reasons to hit the gym.
It's a blessing and a curse.
Breathing raggedly, Kevin emboldened his stride as it became obvious where they were headed. Climbing a flight of stairs, he wiped his facial sweat away using his forearm. At the top, All Might stopped by a vending machine and grabbed them each two bottles of water.
"Hydration is key." He said.
They rested on the highest row of bleachers, overlooking a massive stadium. Splotches of sunlight cascaded through the low hanging fog cover, basking them in vibrant indigo. The cool, crisp air of recently departed dawn ensured overheating wouldn't be a concern.
When he finished drinking from his water bottle, All Might spoke.
"Every year, for as long as I can remember, this stadium is packed with people from all over the world. The Sports Festival has always been an opportunity for the youth to bask in the spotlight." He closed his eyes, perhaps reminiscing in memories.
The withered man then expressed ashamedly, "Now that tradition ends because of my ineptitude…"
Somehow, Kevin resisted the temptation to pat his shoulder and say, 'there, there,' like he was the hero's nanny.
"I met with Nezu yesterday. He informed me about your unique situation." All Might folded his emaciated hands in his lap and hunched forward slightly.
"This is about One For All." Kevin predicted.
The symbol of peace chuckled inwardly.
"Look, Sir," He began, "I'm glad you chose me– honestly… But are you sure that me– of ALL people–should be carrying on your mantle?"
"I see you've begun to have doubts about it. As did I."
Kevin craned his neck to look at the hero, eyes wide like saucers.
"If you say, I can't– you won't. If you say, I can– you will," He emphasized with hand gestures, "consistent positivity does wonders for the soul, my friend. Have faith in your abilities. It's gotten you this far, hasn't it?"
All Might reached over and tapped his temple.
"The battle starts here."
"OK, well let's start with the obvious thing. I'm not from this universe. Wouldn't it make more sense to give One For All to someone you can rely on to be here when shit starts hitting the fan?"
"If it eases your frame of mind, I wouldn't have put this pressure onto you if I knew you couldn't handle it." The hero pondered his concerns.
"Truth be told, I have been searching for a successor for years. Before you, I considered offering my power to Midoriya. Only pride prevented me from doing so." He scoffed in spite of himself.
"That ship has sailed. I thought I had failed my job of passing this quirk on to the next generation. Until you came along." He playfully bumped Kevin's arm with his fist.
"If you knew who I was, what I've done, you wouldn't be so quick to praise me." He said, staring at the rectangular arena implemented in the stadium's center.
"I know who you are now: An intelligent, capable young man who was willing to sacrifice his own life to save a classmate from certain death. Word gets around. When I heard the stories of your heroics, I could only think one thing: Your legs– they moved on their own, didn't they?"
Kevin sighed softly at the traumatic memory.
"So what if they did? What difference does it make?"
"That is the hallmark of a great hero, Levin."
"Or a suicidal nutjob." He retorted without looking.
"Are you a suicidal nutjob?"
Instinctually, Kevin wanted to wisecrack, 'YES! I willingly got a hole punched through my CHEST!' …But something held him back.
"Nah. I'm just… me, I guess." Damn, that sounded lame as fuck.
Kevin knew who he wanted to be– or at least, be like. Glimpses of a green jacket flickered throughout his subconscious.
"You don't have to have all the answers right now." The hero waved a placating hand upon reading his conflicted expression.
All Might adopted a serious tone, "But I must warn you of the dangers surrounding the origins of this quirk."
Kevin shrugged lazily. "Lay it on me."
"One For All was created long ago by an evil tyrant known as All For One." His hand ghosted his side– the site of his devastating injury.
"All For One had the ability to steal quirks from others and make them his own. However, he had a sickly brother who he thought to be quirkless. Unbeknownst to them both, the brother did have a quirk.
It allowed him to transfer his own quirk to another person. When All For One forced a stockpiling quirk onto him, these two quirks fused— creating the very first iteration of One For All.
The brother tried using this new power to stop All For One's dastardly schemes. He failed. Recognizing that the quirk was still far too weak to defeat his elder sibling, he did the next best thing he could: He shared the quirk with somebody who could keep cultivating its strength.
My master— she was the seventh wielder. I am the eighth— and you, Levin, are the ninth. The last in a long line of heroes who share a common foe."
Kevin recounted the racing stripes of rainbow energy he saw when he first accessed the tremendous power. The collection of whispers expressing their judgment. At the time, he thought he imagined them. But now he wasn't so sure.
"This is not some cherry-picked power anyone can get their hands on. It is a closely guarded secret, reserved for only those in possession of traits which are truly commendable. Forty years, I have tempered this quirk and exceeded its limits– time and time again– all for the sake of protecting those in dire need."
Kevin had seen the viral clips of All Might's prime. His most notable feats were when he dispelled a category 5 hurricane with a single punch; caught a collapsing skyscraper in one hand while cradling a baby in the other; punted an atomic bomb into outer space– preventing nuclear fallout.
This is All Might: Achieving the impossible when innocent lives are at stake. Kevin had to commend the man. He really did embody the school motto, Go Beyond! Plus Ultra!
"The combined strength of eight heroes burns inside of you, Levin."
And he was right.
Kevin had way more energy to kill nowadays than he ever had before, which would explain his change in daily routine. He hadn't undergone any acute psychosis like he would have in his younger days– like he feared.
One For All felt surprisingly refined– in comparison to the sporadic nature of the Omnitrix. He theorized that Osmosians weren't meant to absorb artificial sources of energy. The quirk was born naturally, thus his absorption accepted it more readily. This would also explain why he was completely unbothered having the strongest human from this universe sitting right beside him. The impulse to obtain more power was the last thing on his mind.
Kevin gestured to his ribs, "All For One… he did that to you?"
"Yes." The skeletal man confirmed his suspicions and lifted his shirt, revealing a nasty, debilitating scar.
"I only hope he's in as bad of shape as I am. But if the nomu are indeed proof of quirk tampering, then it's a safe bet to assume he's still alive."
"Targeting kids…" Kevin grimaced, "…I won't let him get away with it."
"I pray you will never have to face him." All Might shook him from his stormy thoughts.
"Let me take care of that monster."
"You got dibs since you had beef with the guy first. That's fine. But the second I think he's got you on the back foot? I'm finishing what you started."
"All For One exploits any weakness that he finds— physical and mental. He never approaches two fights the exact same. His paranoia prevents him from doing so. Now that he's active again, there's no way of telling what kinds of tricks he's hidden up his sleeves."
"I got a few tricks of my own I wouldn't mind sharing with him." Kevin stated callously.
All Might dismissed that notion pretty quickly.
"In your present form, you don't stand a chance. Not against him."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." He bit sarcastically.
"I'm being realistic. I've been told– err, warned– that I… tend to mislead the youth. I believe you have what it takes. I do. But absolute victory doesn't mean reducing the enemy to pulp. There are a multitude of factors we must consider during times of great crisis. I do not wish to repeat the same mistake I did with young Bakugou."
"Yeah. I get it." Kevin waved. "Used to have a temper just like his."
'I have all your powers, plus my own! I'm Kevin 11!'
"Levin–"
"–Call me Kevin… Sir." He added with a minor smirk.
"Well, Kevin, if you accept my offer–"
"–When do we start?"
A Cheshire grin smuggled the hero's face. Expanding into his muscular persona, All Might struck a pose.
"We shall maximize your valorous potential beginning tomorrow! Those classmates of yours follow your example! Which means completing that stack of homework too, young man!"
Before he could object to this, the symbol of peace bounded far into the sky, surpassing the stadium arches.
'He dropped something.'
Kevin knelt to pick it up.
"...Teaching for Dummies?"
TUESDAY
In his defense, had he been aware that Kamui Woods was made his designated body guard, he probably wouldn't have fallen asleep to begin with. Prior to being discharged from the hospital, an attempt was made on his life. If it was a good or a bad thing that information hardly fazed him, Izuku couldn't tell.
Maybe he'd gotten used to it.
People wanted him dead. The danger wasn't new. Gran Torino cautioned him about the enemies he'd make if he kept along this path.
Of course, he was thankful the arbor hero chose to step in when he did. The awkward conversation that followed the sudden break-in? Not so much.
"I'm really sorry about zapping you that one time… by the beach..."
"Never happened."
"And for throwing you into a mailbox–"
"–It. Never. Happened."
"...Right."
Crossing his arms, Kamui Woods suggested delicately, "Do us all a favor– stop getting into trouble! …At least until you've graduated."
Izuku would dutifully honor that request if possible.
But he wouldn't bet on it.
As for the would-be assassin, all Izuku could muster was a slew of blurry details. One anomaly he did remember with clarity though, were the pair of golden, cat-like irises that pierced the darkness. There was an unsettling familiarity that struck him in the gut when he saw them.
Almost like he gazed into those eyes once before.
A perceptible fear encompassed the student body of UA High school. Following the Hans Luechi interview, the implication that there could be a traitor among them seemed all too plausible an explanation. It became a prevalent point of conversation from classroom to classroom.
Izuku had grown accustomed to people speaking ill of him while his back was turned– but these people weren't even trying to be subtle about it. To be fair to them though, he was the resident, "problem child," on campus, as Mr. Aizawa referred to him. He couldn't deny having been involved with four major incidents in the past year. Lacking context, it was easy to draw the conclusion that Izuku might harbor alternate, nefarious goals in mind.
"Midoriya is the traitor, plain and simple. There's too much evidence stacked up against him."
"Exactly. That can't all be a coincidence!"
"With that many powerful quirks, who wouldn't have a god complex? Probably thinks he's so much better than the rest of us."
"Maybe he's being possessed by an evil spirit?"
Well, Izuku sure hoped that last one wasn't true.
He did his best to ignore their abrasive comments. He wasn't the traitor, but the thought that there could be a traitor? It greatly upset him. Izuku couldn't imagine any of his classmates conspiring with the League of Villains. Even Sato, the most vocal about his grievances with the greenette, didn't strike him as the two-faced type.
Entering the cafeteria had a silencing effect. Yesterday, a similar occurrence took place. Talk quieted and scrutinizing stares lingered as he passed certain tables. To avoid confrontation, he focused on the ground in front of him. It was disheartening. Izuku would be lying if he admitted otherwise.
Ochaco didn't respond to his invitation for lunch, urging Izuku to surround himself with the company of some friends from 1-A. He secured the spot available at the edge of the table, next to Iida and across from Yaoyorozu. They greeted him warmly. The contrast elevated his dejected mood.
"Hey, have you guys seen Kevin?"
"Said he had important business to attend to," Kaminari answered, plopping a takoyaki ball in his mouth, "whatever that means. My guess is, he's meeting with Nezu. I'm no scholar, but I have yet to see the dude crack open a book."
"It is impolite to speak while you are chewing, Kaminari. How many times must I remind you?" Iida scolded him tiredly.
"Sorry, Mom. Do you want me to clean my room too?"
"If it is in a state of disarray, then yes." The bespectacled teen looked surprised as the whole table laughed.
Right, Nezu. That was the other can of worms Izuku abstained from opening. Since the assassination attempt, the UA principal had doubled down on his policies regarding Izuku's campus residency. No amount of prodding from himself shook this ruling.
"Iida, you are a national treasure." Sero said with an impish smirk.
Apple juice levitated off the table, "In all fairness to Levin, he didn't ask to be enrolled at UA. He only wound up in our class because Nezu had his best interest in mind. Where else was he supposed to go?" Hagakure audibly sipped.
"Still, it's not fair that we have to bust our asses while he gets to kick back and pick his nose." Mineta's chin barely poked above the dining surface.
Kaminari stabbed his meal with chopsticks. "Well, he could be like Bakugou."
"You'd need to be a limbo champion to get under a bar that low."
"Levin's temporary, though. Isn't he? Like a transfer student? As soon as he finds a way back to his home universe– he's gone for good."
"That shouldn't matter," Sero snorted, "also, you're forgetting the part where he's got the fourth grade level education of an American."
Yaoyorozu frowned, "I must agree. Even if he is behind, Levin should demonstrate better work ethic pertaining to academics."
Izuku didn't offer his own input. He was content with listening and enjoying the katsudon Lunch Rush prepared for him. It tasted incredible (He was a master chef after all), but nothing quite beat the original.
"May I help you three?" Iida chopped.
If not for his classmate's inquiry, Izuku might have missed the group of students crowding around his side of the table.
The tallest boy who stood the furthest away, bore a strong resemblance to an absent Kirishima. Rather than being spiked like the former, his hair was slicked back, comprised of silver strands. Beige tufts lined his angry eyelids.
Occupying the space next to him, was a short girl with a neutral expression. She had wide, cerulean eyes that emphasized her empty stare. Dark, shoulder-length hair framed the sides of her face.
"Just browsing." The presumed leader said– a boy with combed blonde hair and cold blue eyes.
"What do you want, Monoma?"
"You know this guy, Iida?" Hagakure voiced the curiosity of their classmates.
"We attended the same middle school." He filled them in.
"Somei Private Academy," Monoma grinned slyly and introduced himself, "Neito Monoma, current president of 1-B. Hero course, same as you…" He aimed his sights at Iida again.
"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about me."
"That would be preferable."
Yaoyorozu covered her gasp, shocked by her classmate's sudden rudeness.
Monoma acted offended, "Iida, you wound me!"
"I will repeat myself just this once; What do you want? And if I find the request lacking in merit then I–!"
"-Yap, yap, yap," Monoma interrupted, "you were always a motor mouth. Never knew when to shut up and read the room. But no, Iida. We're not here for you. You're not nearly that special."
Pretending Izuku couldn't hear, he added with a snigger, "Look at him. Trying to make himself small. It almost makes me pity the fool. Almost. Such cowardice is unbecoming of a hero."
"Midoriya has more bravery in one finger than you have in your entire body. I've seen it first hand. We all have." Yaoyorozu's assertion was met with disgust.
"If he's not willing to fight his own battles, then what faith should we have when he battles for others? You're an intelligent girl, Yaoyorozu. But your credibility is based solely on recommendation. What struggle would you be familiar with? Heh! Your ignorance proves they just let anyone in nowadays."
Mineta gripped his plastic knife menacingly, prepared to spring at a moment's notice.
"Even traitors."
That word cut through the cafeteria like fine butter.
"Enough." The heiress stood up– jaw clenched– voice shaky.
"Leave us alone. We have done nothing to warrant your harassment."
Monoma huffed scornfully.
"Midoriya? You even have your own classmates fooled! Maybe I ought to give you more credit than you're worth!" He regarded the table full of glaring teens with apathy.
"I fear for the generations that depend on us, genuinely. Tell me– what happened to that flat chested broad? The one with the um," He snapped his fingers as if to resuscitate a fleeting memory, "noodles dangling from her ears?"
"D-don't s-say that." Izuku's body went rigid as Monoma cackled connivingly. It was Aldera all over again. Except this time, Jiro wasn't here.
"Are you a selective mute, Midoriya? Or are you just all choked up?"
'Breathe, Izuku– breathe.' The Omnitrix wielder reiterated.
"Hope you're familiar with sign language. Communication is necessary in this line of work. I'm sure Kodai here wouldn't mind giving you a few lessons."
Unable to bottle his rage, Kaminari snapped–
"–The fuck is your problem, asshole!?"
The Kirishima doppelganger made an example of clanking his knuckles together– a metallic sound.
"It's OK, Testu." Monoma briefly pacified his own classmates' hostility.
"We merely wish to raise concern about the cancellation of the sports festival."
Iida matched his combative posture.
"Then you should be aware that wasn't our decision to make."
"Well, if it helps you sleep at night. The facts are, in large part due to your class's extracurricular fiasco, many job opportunities won't be available to the fine people of this school."
"Extracurricular fiasco? Is that what you call a terrorist attack?"
The president of 1-B shrugged calmly.
"...And to disrespect Thirteen's name so carelessly? How dare you?" Iida was visibly trembling with anger.
"The important thing is, you're all safe."
"You're out of line." Ingenium's brother clarified.
"On the contrary. We're perfectly IN line." With his free hand, Monoma reached down to clasp Izuku's shoulder.
"We're… simply… helping out a fellow hero-in-training overcome his nerves. Now is that a crime?"
Iida sternly removed the opposing teen's grip on Izuku and nudged him backward.
"You have no good intentions. And if you do not cease this mockery at once, I will be forced to locate an administrator."
Monoma rolled his eyes, referring to his classmen on standby.
"Checks out– he's a teacher's pet– through and through."
"Attempting to provoke a volatile reaction, rather deliberately, might I add, is shameful behavior which has no place in an establishment such as UA."
"Please, you're preaching to the choir. Look around you– look at yourself. Everyone's thinking it. The legendary class 1-A… What a joke."
"I suggest you go… before I do something that I regret."
Recognizing they were outnumbered, Monoma finally relented.
"We yield! I shall leave Midoriya alone so he can continue picking at his fish."
Turning, he bumped into Izuku and, "accidentally," dumped the contents of his tray on top of his head.
"Oops! Must've slipped!" Laughing pretentiously, he flicked the plastic at him.
Iida's fist collided with Monoma's cheekbone. Kaminari tackled his waist, sending them both to the floor. His 1-B friends attempted to separate them, but it was too late. Brawls erupted from every corner of the cafeteria. The altercation at the epicenter served as the catalyst.
Lunch Rush came scrambling out of the kitchen, clanging frying pans together.
A distinct chill travelled up Izuku's spine. The pandemonium combined with Monoma's cruel taunts ensured what he did next was no minor task. Humiliated, slop dribbling along the bridge of his nose— Izuku ran.
An action that wouldn't go unnoticed.
"That's right! Run away! We all know what you are!" Monoma hollered prior to being doused with apple juice.
Weaving around confused students in the outer wings, Izuku identified the protruding blue sign as his sanctuary. Bashing open the restroom door, he rushed to the sink. Immediately, he started picking the food chunks out of his curly green hair.
Splashing water against his face jogged him upright. For a nondescript amount of time, he focused exclusively on the miniature whirlpool the faucet created. Panting still, he grappled the sides of the bowl.
Galapagus alerted Izuku of the danger heightened emotions posed to his self-preservation. The concept horrified Izuku. That if those barriers were to ever fall… the lingering threat would encompass those closest to him as well.
Consumed by these distressing thoughts, Izuku failed to notice the lights dimming.
"Huh?"
He hunted for the light switch in the pitch black darkness, when an eerie, violet glow steered his attention away. The central mirror– the luminance seemed to be emitting from behind the reflective panel. That didn't make sense. Why would UA install a feature like this? And in the bathroom of all places?
His breath coalesced into mist front of his face as the temperature decline became apparent. Approaching the mirror, he tentatively reached out. It was ice cold to the touch. Like a car window in mid winter, moisture had beaded across its surface, obscuring what laid beneath. Wiping the veil of liquid away, he was confused to find not a reflection– but instead an empty chamber leading elsewhere.
The mysterious image, convincingly clear, made Izuku forget that he was staring directly at a mirror. Had he crossed over into yet another one of his alien's memories? Without even realizing it?
"Uncertainty will be your downfall." The static modulation caused Izuku to freeze.
Cape flowing ethereally, Eon's visage punctured the dim tunnel.
"He's dead. He's not real. This is NOT REAL." Izuku fervently shook his head, panicked sweat permeating his features.
"I'm as real as you are willing to believe, Midoriya." Eon echoed from the opposite dimension.
Sealing his green eyes shut, "Why can't you leave me alone?"
He hoped the time-walker might vanish if he concentrated hard enough.
After counting to ten, he opened them.
The space where his reflection should've been, Eon now inhabited.
"Where's the fun in that?" He leaned through the mirror, fingers curling past the bottom ridge.
Gulping, Izuku whispered, "You can't hurt me."
Like a viper lashing at its unsuspecting prey, Eon's hand seized his wrist– seized the Omnitrix. Izuku fought, though it quickly proved to be a losing battle. He was too strong. With each passing second, the villain's constricting hold grew tighter.
"Am I so bad?" Eon fully phased through the geometric plane.
"You're a liar! You're a murderer! You killed mom!"
"Let's be honest— are you any better?"
"You're mind games won't work on me this time!"
"The reason you feel guilt over her death– and that girl's suffering– is it because you think you could've stopped it all from happening? Or, is it because deep down, the little hero knows he made a mistake?"
Izuku continued to resist.
"After everything you've tried to do for them… they still find ways to hate you. Funny how that works. At least I know who I am. I know what I want. And I know how to take it." With new vigor, Eon yanked him forward.
A burly arm hitched itself around Izuku's windpipe. Locked in a breathless chokehold, he intensified his struggling– managing to rotate and face the stalls. Further attempts to recover lost ground were unsuccessful– red high-tops squeaking hectically across the tiled floor.
"St-stop!" He gasped. "Please!"
"You brought this on yourself."
"Please…!" His tailbone collided with the sink.
As the final embers of defiant strength in Izuku's legs began to fizzle out, the darkness of his nemeses' domain crept into his peripheral.
"Let go…" Eon lulled, dragging Izuku's limp body through the crystalline border.
To think it came to this– a game of tug of war? Was this how it all ended?
'It's OK to dream, kid, but sometimes you have to be realistic.' Tears sprung from his eyes as he relived the memory.
He remembered how hopeless he felt then. How hopeless things seemed now. In a lot of ways, Izuku had come far. But he may as well have been that same petrified, scrawny kid standing alone on that rooftop. Head up in the clouds. Clinging desperately to something that provided him with a sense of purpose.
Tennyson and Professor Paradox rekindled that dormant desire. They offered him the greatest tool he could've asked for. From that moment onward, the stars were the limit. It wasn't all sunshine and roses like he dreamed, however.
Since he bound the alien device to his wrist, people he cared about– people he loved and respected– like his mother and Jiro– were killed and hurt under the pretense of vengeance. And Izuku, none the wiser of the scores they wished to settle, selfishly continued along this path.
Often, he would interrogate the mirror. Was this constant fighting worth the toll in blood? I knew the consequences. I took the risks. See where it got me? Where it got them? So why? WHY am I fighting?
But he never got an answer.
Izuku sought the reason as the void slowly engulfed him. The five concurrent senses waned thereafter. The last bit of warmth he could feel– an intermittent thumping– remained.
What was this feeling that persisted while all others failed? He searched and searched– but the effort taxed him heavily. His thoughts– they were a jumbled mess. Things would be so much easier if he ceased fighting…
He could finally rest… if he… just… let go…
…
…
…
'I know that sound,' Izuku miraculously recalled, 'its my pulse.'
Shard by shard, the reason pieced itself together.
Deep violet hair… Guitar riffs… The husky voice which caused his doubts to disappear… Through the highs and lows, there was one constant.
'Midoriya is ten times the hero you will ever be!'
She reminded him why he wanted this– why this world was worth protecting.
'...I really wanted to show you that, I appreciate you rescuing me. You gave me the chance to give back. I won't waste it anymore. I promise.'
She was his best friend– the person who always motivated him– who kept him tethered to the Earth when gravity wasn't enough.
'...Hey, Green…? Show them what you're made of.'
Her name was Kyoka Jiro.
His anchor.
Before Izuku's identity was leaked to the public, Slipstream got the credit for preventing a potential disaster. He seldom spoke of the secret burden. How people revered this juncture in time. Because she was convinced Izuku saved her.
But He never saw it as such.
From his perspective, Jiro saved him.
And she kept on saving him– time and time again– without her ever realizing it. She saved him every time their gazes met. She saved him every time she laughed at his stupid jokes. She saved him every time they shared the beanbag, and their shoulders touched as they listened to music together. Discussing interpretations of the lyrics.
It had always been her.
Saving him.
And Izuku didn't want to die if that meant never seeing her again.
"HAGHK-K!" His struggle reignited.
"It's hopeless! You can't escape from this place!" Eon berated him.
He didn't plan on letting their promises to each other go to waste. Izuku wouldn't give this up. He swore on it.
"I… DON'T… CAAARE!" He brutally ripped free of the villain's staunch hold.
Energized by this second wind, he charged for the exit portal. Twisting purple tendrils streaked past him. They redirected, first coiling around the teen's ankles then his wrists. Limbs restrained, Izuku cried gutturally, "I'LL NEVER QUIT ON YOU!"
The tendrils suspended and spun his body in midair, revealing the horrific thing Eon had become. The time-walker's proportions were badly mutated, simulating a feral beast. Mask stretching to accommodate rows of serrated teeth and widening maw. The fabric of his cape, though tattered and worn– writhed with anticipation.
"̷̠͆Ỳ̴̰O̷̖̕Ù̷͙'̸̛̘R̸̦͘E̶̯͂ ̶̙͘F̶͈͘I̷̢͒N̵̮͛Ï̴͓Ş̶͆H̵̘͋Ě̶͙D̴̡́,̸̮̅ ̶̲̍Ẃ̴̗Ḫ̸̽É̵̺N̸͎͐ ̵̏I ̵̳͆S̶̳̎À̶̧Ỷ̵̲ ̶̘́Ỳ̷̙O̴̪̎U̶̼̅'̴̫̓R̴̹̎È̸̳ ̶͈̉F̶̟͘Í̸͈N̴͎̓I̴̫̿S̸̳̚H̷̟̓E̸̤͆D̸̺̿!̸̻̌"̵̺̑ Talons sprouted from his gauntlets.
"You got that right…" Izuku bared his own teeth.
"...We're finished!" With the remnants of strength he had left, he tore apart the cloth chains.
When Izuku prepared to strike, the Omnitrix shimmered brilliantly, blinding Eon long enough to give him the opening he needed– thrusting his fist into chest of his nemesis– evoking an unstable emerald power. The sheer brisance ejected Eon through the ambient depths of his benighted domain.
Using the adrenaline rush as leverage, Izuku made for freedom. Exhilaration inundated his movements the closer he came to reaching the brightness. A fleeting pixel, the residual glow of the dimensionless mirror depicted what he stood to lose. There were far too many innocent people that depended on Izuku for him to lay down and die. He refused to stop until he saw this journey through to the end.
And that end wasn't here. Trapped in the recesses of his own mind.
"Almost had me…" Izuku kept his gaze ahead as he climbed through the picturesque frame.
An explosion of light invaded his senses. He fell on his butt. Accompanying the transition were discontented wails of the enemy. Sounds of shattering glass. A physical barrier to grasp– a bathroom stall.
Blinking the stars out of his vision, Izuku stared blankly at the mirror fastened to the wall. Dozens of cracks splintered the reflection down the middle. Scattered remains had fallen into the bowl of the sink– the faucet still running. Dizzy, he scanned the room in case anyone saw him deck the mirror. Exhaling a sigh of relief as there were no shoes visible underneath the stall doors. It was a small victory.
Eon was relentless. This setback wouldn't keep him at bay for long. There wasn't enough time in a day to consider the implications of these hallucinations.
He needed some fresh air.
Disoriented by the slew of hectic thoughts, he clumsily bumped into someone in the hallway.
Cringing, the words, 'I'm sorry!' slipped from his lips.
"Ochaco?"
Maybe he should've gone Shadeshifter to avoid all this.
"Ouch. Watch where you're going, Izuku." She chided him, rubbing a lump on her head.
"Sorry! I-I was distracted!"
"You already apologized, dummy." She smiled amusedly, exposing fangs.
"Hey, you're hurt!"
Izuku prepares to object until she thieves his hand. Her eyes magnetized to the site of blood. Studying the freshly cut knuckles with the precision of a surgeon, Ochaco gradually frowned.
"Did you get in another fight? Who was it this time? Oh, when I get mah hands on em–!"
"–No, it was me. I… did it." Embarrassed, he had to look away.
Her confused glare was too intimidating.
"I'm not surprised." She said while fishing in her pink backpack.
Realizing what she must be doing, he attempted to divert the situation.
"Y-you don't have to— I got my own."
"You're not the only one! After the day I met you, I figured, hey, maybe it's not such a bad idea to carry a first aid kit of my own? Just in case!" She added with a wink.
He didn't know what to say as she granted herself access to his hand again.
"Aaand there! Good as new!"
He delicately examined the craftsmanship of butterfly bandages.
"How's that feel?" She beamed proudly.
Darn it, he was fending off tears again.
"It's perfect. Thank you Ochaco. You're a great friend."
Squaring her jaw, she declared; "Now we're even!"
"Yeah, I guess we are." He chuckled, face oddly warm.
Just when he thought the interaction had reached its conclusion, Ochaco did something unexpected. She hugged him. Though short and awkward, Izuku welcomed the embrace. Before he could reciprocate, she pulled away.
"I was worried sick about you." She confessed, tucking her arms behind her back as if to restrain herself.
"When the school went on lockdown, all I could think was: Is Izuku safe right now? Is he alive?"
"I'm alright. I have to admit, it was pretty scary at first."
"At first?"
"I was scared for my classmates. Most of them hadn't been in situations like that before. Thirteen gave her life to protect us. And Iida, he still hasn't said much about what happened. It affected him a lot more than he's trying to let on. I can tell."
"All of you went through a lot. Anybody would be shaken up. Say… Izuku, did you catch that special on C.B. News? With Hans Luechi and principal Nezu?"
"Uh, yeah? What about it?"
Biting the corner of her lip, "I don't mean to stir up bad memories, Izu, but… Shirai died in the collapse, right? Or was it something or someone else?"
Izuku recalled a conversation they had a couple weeks ago. They discussed people they labeled as 'false heroes.' From her perspective, Shirai most likely fell into that category, so he couldn't blame her for being curious.
"Yes. The collapse killed him."
Ochaco shrugged. "Guess he got what he deserved then."
'Some people don't want to be saved!' Power Loader's voice echoed.
"...I'm only alive today because of him. The same goes for Todoroki." He struggled to omit.
His friend was stunned by the information.
"He saved you? After everything?" Ochaco gaped when he nodded. "Why?"
Izuku believed most people were inherently good. He would also argue a majority of villains have reasons for the things they do: Abandonment, bullying, poverty, politics, and so on. Obviously, there are outliers– those with mental instabilities that make them dangerous. He liked to think these are what the prisons were intended for.
Regardless, there are people that fall in between the cracks in the system. People, once deemed innocent, who are actively being isolated from their peers and being deprived of the help they desperately need. In that respect, society failed them. Having endured quirkless discrimination for his entire life until recently, Izuku understood this all too well. To be passed over, like he wasn't important.
Like he wasn't a person.
It was an awful feeling.
Even now, his loyalty was constantly placed into question.
He couldn't fault the masses for adopting this hard hat mentality. It was easier that way. Because to acknowledge there was an issue, would mean admitting quirked society was flawed. Rather than accepting accidents for what they are– mistakes– people's livelihoods are carelessly thrown into jeopardy.
This perpetual avoidance fosters a toxic environment, where forgiveness is a luxury only a few can afford.
What kind of world do they live in, where the average person is pushed to the brink so severely? That was the crux of the problem. People shouldn't have to feel like they're constantly being cornered like starving, caged animals.
"Maybe, I'll never be able to fully understand what he was going through. For what it's worth, I'm grateful he remembered who he once was. But none of that excuses what he did."
Ochaco quivered as if she'd seen a ghost.
"He hurt Jiro. Badly. I don't think I'll ever forgive him for what he did to her…" He confessed, face strained.
"I…" The brunette shied away from eye contact.
"...I have to go! I'm sorry!" She spun on her heel and hightailed it down the hall.
Izuku frowned, and the final lunch bell rang. That strange, unsettling feeling in his gut had returned…
WEDNESDAY
Whenever Kaminari looked around the classroom– at his friends– he could see it in their faces. They were lost. Ashido said it best– none of them were prepared for the USJ.
Even Midoriya, the unspoken leader of 1-A, appeared to be struggling with the aftermath. Kaminari caught him staring at an empty desk for the better half of five minutes– and it clicked. Since the first day of school, he and Jiro have been attached at the hip.
Always walking together. Side by side. Finishing each other's sentences. The whole nine yards.
The only time Kaminari saw them apart was during lunch or if they were forcibly split into groups for heroics exercises.
There were some nasty games of telephone going on involving the two of them. Why? Probably because Jiro's career as a pro hero ended before it even started and the other dude was a media scapegoat. He could only imagine how Midoriya was handling these rumors.
Did he need to give spoiler warnings?
Kaminari's grandfather operated on Jiro when she was brought into the ER, so he was made aware of the degree of injury she suffered.
Losing both of your eyes? That's life-altering stuff! It hurt Kaminari knowing his classmate went through something this traumatic. He hoped the best for her, truly.
On a lesser note, in Jiro's absence, Iida was promoted to vice president of 1-A, under Yaoyorozu.
Ingenium's lil bro had been a lot more reserved since the attack. Sure, yesterday he stood up for Midoriya and the rest of their class, but the long winded speech about the virtues of heroism and the establishment were… negligible? Yeah, that word works there. It was sad, watching his passion dwindle by the day.
Oh, and Aoyama? The dude who spoke French in random bursts? He came back today and received a warm reception. But it was clear— he wasn't ready to hop on the saddle again. His smile and flamboyant mannerisms were visibly forced.
Put simply, 1-A felt like a shell of its former self. Piling on top of that, they were the sole target of every news station in the country. There were talks about their being a traitor– and most fingers were pointing towards Midoriya. Kaminari wasn't the brightest bulb of the bunch, but even he knew that was a load of bullcrap.
Midoriya was the LAST person who would betray the heroes. How can the most heroic person in the hero course be the one trying to tear it all down? To even suggest that is borderline lunacy! Mr. Aizawa and the rest of the teachers' attempts to keep the traitor accusations under maintenance failed spectacularly.
Neito Monoma, the president of class 1-B, got suspended for the fight he instigated during lunch yesterday. Though if you were to ask Kaminari for his opinion on the matter, he would say that punishment was far too lenient. Then again, if almost killing someone and showing absolutely no remorse wasn't enough to get you expelled, then what would?
Nezu is really weird.
Meanwhile, he, Iida, Hagakure and several others were penalized for engaging in the fight. They were assigned janitorial duties for the next MONTH. Surprisingly, Kaminari wasn't too upset about this. He'd gladly spend a couple extra hours mopping the floors and scrubbing chalkboards. Because he felt he did what was right when it counted.
For that, he was content with himself.
Kaminari only regretted not hitting Monoma harder. That douchebag should be thankful he didn't have access to a time machine.
The electrified boy's priorities lie elsewhere. Smacking a schoolyard bully was different than fighting for survival against a monster like Nomu, believe it or not. He needed a change of pace– something that could elevate him above the competition.
When the USJ started flooding, he was rendered completely useless. He couldn't take the risk of electrocuting his own classmates! Even if it was mainly saltwater, the unpredictability of electricity was not to be trifled with.
Witnessing Levin getting a hole punched through his chest was terrifying enough on its own, but tussling with Shigaraki and nearly drowning? That wasn't doing him any favors either. If Levin hadn't been wearing his plot armor that day, who knows what would've happened?
Said teen walked beside him right now. They entered the workshop, similar goals in mind. All around them, support students hurriedly threw contraptions together like it was nothing. Kaminari wished he had smarts like them.
They stopped at Power Loader's desk— at the front of the classroom.
"Yo, Teach!"
How in the hell, did he get away with addressing the teachers like that?
"Hey Levin!" Power Loader removed his focus from his laptop onto them, returning the fist bump.
"What brings you boys into my workshop this fine afternoon?"
"I need an upgrade for my gauntlet. Last one disintegrated."
"Of course!" He typed a few things out, then scrolled using a mouse.
"Do you remember who worked on the last model?"
"Uh, I think it was, Hatsune Miku or something?"
Power Loader laughed, "You are a RIOT! You must be thinking of Mei Hatsume."
"Hatsume," Levin snapped his fingers, face lighting up in recognition "that's the one."
"You with him?"
He quickly bowed.
"Denki Kaminari, nice to meet you, Power Loader sensei."
"Likewise. What ails you?"
"I could use a new support item or two. My quirk is pretty unstable."
"I see. In most circumstances, you would drop a request form in the box here…" He gestured to the aluminum tray perched on the corner of his desk.
"...But, just this time, I think I can allow some leeway."
Kaminari assumed he must've been winking behind that giant mask.
"I'm sure Hatsume would love to help both of you."
"Hold on, aren't you supposed to be the expert on this stuff? Is it really safe for a student to be designing our support gear?"
"Fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks, but the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. Bruce Lee said that." Power Loader responded tactfully, then surmised, "Everybody has to learn someday."
"Point taken." Kaminari raised his hands in defeat.
"If you're still worried, I can personally vouch for her. Hatsume is, by FAR, the most talented engineer to come through my workshop in the last 10 years. She's a modern DaVinci, that girl!"
"Where would we find her?"
"In the back." Power Loader cordially gestured behind them.
"You mean the person who's got a studio all to themselves? I thought teachers weren't supposed to show favoritism towards their students?" Levin observed.
"It's more of a safety measure, actually. Half the stuff she touches explodes."
The teens shared disturbed glances.
"Have fun!"
With that omen hanging in the air, the duo proceeded onwards.
Breaching the studio boundary felt like entering the den of a scientifically inclined dragon. Navigating the cluster of robust machinery and stacked prototypes was a task easier said than done. Parting dozens of neon warning signs– ranging from slipping hazards to risks of radiation poisoning– they emerged in a clearing.
The angular space was fit together in blocky segments meant to resemble furniture. An island nestled in the center had blueprints and detailed dioramas strewn about its surface. Kaminari spotted the person he assumed to be Hatsume, but before he could introduce himself, his foot snagged a toolbox handlebar.
Off balance, he plunged downward, knee first. Thudding against the ground hard enough to roll sideways, he clutched the source of agony with a squinched, silent scream indentured on his face.
"You good Kami?" Levin checked on his fallen comrade.
"HHHUUGHHUEEEGUHHHIEHH–!"
Taking the painful moaning as his answer, Levin bellowed at the offender huddled over a circuit board.
"HELLO!? Is anybody home!?"
That seemed to grab the inventor's attention. She had taffy pink hair styled into dreadlocks. Workshop coveralls were hastily tied around her waist. Strapped to her head, was a set of busy, steampunk goggles.
"Can I help you?" She appeared unaware, or perhaps, unbothered at the teen crumpled on the floor beside him.
"You're Hatsume?"
"In the flesh." She resumed prodding at the circuit board, miniature sparks dancing erratically.
"You know, it's rude to ignore people when they're speaking to you."
"Yeah, yeah, that sounds nice."
Levin rubbed his face, exasperated.
"Look, Power Loader told us if we needed costume upgrades, you were THE guy."
She giggled at the notion, "Sensei says that to a lot of people because he's lazy!"
The taller teen muttered something under his breath– likely involving profanity.
Color slowly returned to Kaminari's face as he found his footing.
"Name's Denki Kaminari, and this dude next to me is Kevin Levin. We don't mean to intrude, Hatsume, but we could really use your brains."
"Did either of you read the signs? No loitering! My babies require absolute focus!"
"Babies?"
"Forget it." Levin grumbled. "She's not interested."
Kaminari shook his head, and pressed further.
"I need a support item that'll stop me from electrocuting everybody around me!" He then averted his eyes guiltily.
"I was useless during the attack. I had him at arm's length, and Shigaraki still got away!" His fists shook at the memory.
"The League of Villains might not even be in the picture if I hadn't been so weak!"
"Dude, you're not weak." Levin tried to make him feel better.
"Dude, thank you, but right now, there are TWO people in our class, one of them being you, who have better control over electricity than I do! And this is all I got! If I can't figure out a way to direct my quirk– somebody's going to die! When I know I could've done something to stop it!" Kaminari ranted passionately.
"That's why we need your help– how else will my friend get a new prosthetic–?"
"–Prosthetic!?" The girl whipped around at tornado speeds. "Why didn't you lead with that!?" She stripped away her goggles excitedly, revealing eyes like crosshairs.
They zoomed in on Levin's missing appendage.
"Handyman! I thought I recognized you!"
Kaminari slapped a palm over his mouth to stifle a burst of laughter from exiting his lungs.
"Kevin… Levin." He corrected her, tone venomous.
"Whatever you say, Handyman!" She rushed past them, animatedly sifting through a stack of folders labeled: My Lovely Babies, 132-264.
She elicited a triumphant hum as she found the documents she'd been searching for.
"The prosthesis was constructed using a titanium alloy. I suspected the wiring must've been an issue!"
"Nah, it worked fine."
She stared at Levin hawkishly, compelling him to confess.
"It shattered into a million pieces."
"Wow! You broke it!?"
"I didn't break it! A villain countered my attack and–!" Levin spluttered indignantly.
"–So you broke it! There's nothing to be ashamed of!" She fiddled with her lower lip.
"Structural failure indicates the force of impact was tremendous…"
"It was able to withstand a ton of hits even before that."
"…Durability is substantial…" She continued like she hadn't heard him.
"…Yet, not sustainable. I will have to completely overhaul the design. Was dexterity an issue?"
He gave a half shrug. "A little? Felt kind of stiff."
"That can be improved." She hummed, and began chewing on a pencil.
"I'll have it done by next week! That's a Hatsume Industries guarantee!"
Though perplexed at her direct line of thinking, Levin thanked her nonetheless.
"You!" She pointed directly at Kaminari, index digit hovering inches from his nose.
"Who? Me?" He was sweating now, though not from knee pain.
"Yes! You! Your quirk conducts electricity, correct?" Her reticles scanned him like a gunsmith at target practice.
"Election fraud! No, I mean!" Kaminari cleared his throat of nonexistent crud, "Electrification!" He recovered, hating how dumb he must've sounded just then.
Crosshairs dilating curiously, "Do you generate your own electricity or do you manipulate foreign currents?"
"Make it."
"Then you must require a conduit of some kind! Your max output– what is it!?"
Answering smugly, "4.5 million volts."
"Neato! I have a battery pack here, SOMEWHERE–!"
"–No, no, that won't solve the issue! I lack precision! control! I had an idea? Electro-grenades? I could toss them at a group of villains– shock them all into submission?" He demonstrated by pulling a pin and hucking the imaginary bomb.
"They smack em back at you," Levin pointed out, "then what?"
"I… didn't consider that. You're right– grenades are too risky."
"Electricity takes the path of least resistance, making farther targets more difficult to hit. But if we could figure out a way to take advantage of said distance, while mitigating harm to your allies…?" The inventor hummed to herself contemplatively.
"Hand-to-hand isn't my forte either. And I need to stay mobile. If my max output isn't enough to stun everyone, I'll be stuck as a drooling caveman for an hour." He griped.
"It'd be cool if I could go full-on cowboy!" Kaminari made finger guns as Snipe's catchphrase came to mind, "Like shootin fish in a barrel! Yeehaw!"
Pretending to be engaged in a standoff, he blew electrical smoke away from his fingertips and holstered them in his pockets. Surrendering himself to the clutter of the workshop, he aimed at the ceiling fixtures dismally.
"Yeehaw..." Kaminari sighed heavily.
'Why does my quirk have to be the most practical and IM-practical quirk ever?'
Hatsume analyzed the historical dramatization with a calculative disposition.
"Yee… haw…?" She repeated quizzically, gloves whisking together a clean slate of vellum.
Levin squinted at her sideways. "Come up with something?"
She sang with an opera house voice, "Can't talk! Baby making is in progress!"
The duo leaned over her shoulder, intending to peep the design metrics until she snapped at them.
"No peeking!"
Levin failed to conceal his awe.
"That can't be what I think it is?"
"What? What is it!?" Kaminari frantically jumped up and down as the suspense was killing him.
The tip of her chewed up pencil cracked under the pressure. She spun on her heels and proudly displayed it for them both to see. No way– those were–!
"–FINGER GUNS!" She said crazily. "YEEHAW!"
The electrified boy had never witnessed a sight so mesmerizing.
"Could this actually work!?" It seemed too good to be true.
"Nothing is impossible if you're determined enough!" Hatsume beamed.
Kaminari saw now why Power Loader held this girl in such high esteem.
"You're a GENIUS Hatsume!" He praised, bowing at her feet like a devout worshiper.
"A GENIUS!"
"I am! Thank you for noticing… Who are you again?"
He promptly face planted, speaking into the floor.
"Your name is Donkey?" She misheard him. "Your parents must hate you!"
Levin took that as his que to go.
THURSDAY
Todoroki had regained a fair amount of feeling in his legs. He could even stand and hobble short distances. However, exceeding his physical limitations put tremendous strain on his lower vertebrae– forcing the heterochromatic teen to take sedentary residence. Balance remained a work in progress.
To help fill in the gaps, his sister, Fuyumi, lent him a manga series she loved when she was younger. It was called Cryptid Companions: A story centered around people who befriend magical creatures. While Todoroki couldn't fathom the idea of becoming invested in such a concept, she urged him to give the series a chance.
One week, twelve volumes later, the hero-in-training had been utterly hooked. The tale of friendship and the power of family was endearing in ways he failed to describe. His favorite character was Carrolico, a feline cryptid closely related to carrots. They preferred keeping to themselves, but when they do speak (Or meow), it's a message of great importance.
Todoroki related strongly to the carrot cat who enjoyed taking naps in the harvest fields.
A buzzer located beside his door alerted him of his father's beckoning call. Regretfully, he slipped a bookmark in the current chapter he was chipping through, and wheeled himself out of his bedroom. The mansion they lived in was huge, needlessly so. Todoroki had yet to visit another living room that featured a running waterfall as traditional decor.
Rolling past the gong implanted in the wall, he found his father seated at the far edge of the padded room, dressed in a black gi. Small patches of fire were scattered throughout, indicating the man had been training vigorously on his lonesome.
"Father." He addressed dispassionately.
"We need to talk." Endeavor spoke without facing his son.
"Don't worry– this does not concern your training regiment."
Surprise overtook the younger Todoroki's features.
"What is it then?"
"Your brother– he's alive."
Like a vacuum tight seal had been pulled taught along the walls and floors of the dojo, a dreaded silence ensued. He figured he might as well get the hard part out of the way first.
"I know."
Endeavor half-turned, glaring at him from the corner of his eye. Those bright blue eyes that were piercing. Expressing a lethality only those closest to the flame hero could fully understand.
"Who told you?" He didn't bother asking why.
"I connected the dots on my own while I was recovering in the hospital." Todoroki answered honestly.
Was Endeavor shallow enough to strike him for withholding information? Even while he was paralyzed and couldn't fight back? Then he recalled the years of "training," where the man refused to take, "enough!" as an excuse and mercilessly beat him until he couldn't stand or see straight. All under the guise of teaching him to be a hero who shall surpass even the symbol of peace himself.
YES, was the conclusion Todoroki arrived at. Endeavor was sadistic enough to do such a thing.
"...And if you know about Touya," Uttering his brother's name aloud seemed to have a sobering effect on his father, "that means you know about the nomu."
"What of it?"
"I don't understand: Why is the HPSC hiding them from the public?"
"Crowd control." Endeavor said curtly.
Agitation present within his voice while he deliberated, "They're already in a state of unrest due to the rumor's of All Might's retirement. So far, the suspects have given the police nothing but dead ends. Either they're being paid off, or Shigaraki was smart enough to cover his own tracks."
Todoroki mulled that intel over in his head. There was another, burning question he had to ask his father.
"I am curious…"
"Curious about what, boy? Be specific."
"Did you murder Shirai's family?"
Endeavor's face ignited– the chemical reaction extinguishing itself as fast as it appeared.
Exuding a tired sigh, "I was patrolling his district when I crossed paths with a thief. I went on the offensive. They dodged. My flames had already spread throughout the apartment complex before backup arrived. The Water Hose heroes were handling a fire elsewhere in the city. I am responsible for the deaths of a woman and child… But I did not murder them."
It made him uncomfortable, seeing his father this reluctant to explain his side of the story. Or why he felt the need to clarify that it was an accident. Being the ranked two hero in Japan meant his work was close to flawless. On the rare occasion that he did make a controversial mistake, he wasn't shy to provide explicit details on how the event unfolded. Knowing his father, he must've prioritized capturing the thief rather than the evacuation effort.
Todoroki's aversion to the fire side of his quirk was in part for reasons similar to what Endeavor depicted. One wrong flick of the wrist could scar a person for life. An element of nature so volatile that without proper management…
"Shirai and Touya must've been in contact." Todoroki theorized.
"The police might be able to do something with that correlation."
Before he could excuse himself, Endeavor commanded his son's attention one final time.
"Shoto."
"Yes?"
"Have you told anyone?"
'About your missing brother who we presumed to be dead.'
"Only Fuyumi and Natsuo." He averted his gaze from the man.
"I wish to tell my mother. Soon. She deserves to know."
Endeavor didn't object, suggesting to the heterochromatic teen that he felt similarly.
"Once you are physically able, I will arrange a visit for you."
"OK." Todoroki responded robotically, unsure of what to make of all this.
As he prepared to round the corner down the hall, a rageful below emitted from the dojo. Todoroki could see licks of orange from the doorway and the burst of flame that followed them. Something told him his father was more tense about the situation than he let on.
FRIDAY
Katsuki Bakugou was in hell. Here are the list of reasons why:
Reason 1: Deku got him suspended during their first week of school, ruining his pristine record.
Reason 2: UA was attacked by a terrorist organization in his absence. Which he could've easily prevented– if he hadn't been suspended!
Reason 3: Everyone in his class fucking hated him. Normally this wouldn't be an issue– but it definitely made getting a perfect score on group projects more difficult than it needed to be when nobody had the balls to partner with him!
Reason 4: The old hag at home wouldn't stop pestering him about his days at school. Asking him stupid ass questions like: What did you eat for lunch? Who did you eat it with? Do you have any friends yet? How many objects and/or people did you blow up today? He was sick of it!
Reason 5: He would still be allowed to attend classes if and ONLY if he agreed to sign a contract written by the babbling rat. For the foreseeable future– he was obligated to visit the guidance counselor's office EVERY school day once first period ended.
Only when Hound Dog was convinced that he's fit to rejoin his class during practical exercises, would the leash be removed. Again, this usually wouldn't have been a problem. Bakugou had smooth-talked every counselor he tangoed with throughout the years. It didn't take much to make them fold. A few promises to pay tribute when he inevitably went pro– and the intoxication of potential fame and fortune went straight to their empty skulls.
Evidently, Hound Dog had more brains than Bakugou initially gave him credit for. He wasn't nearly as weak-willed and he sort of gave a shit. But there was no way Bakugou was going to start chatting with some shrink about some inane event from his childhood that somehow shaped the man he became! He'd rather shove a cactus up his ass!
Furthermore, did Nezu actually believe in any of this shit? What could he possibly stand to gain that he didn't already know!? In terms of strength, Bakugou was number one. No question! People think he's arrogant because he reminds them of the fact, quite regularly– but at least HE doesn't go around lecturing people about values and politeness like that stupid bitch, Yaoyorozu! If she wasn't so incompetent, he wouldn't be in this mess to begin with!
It was Friday. Every session concluded the same. Hound Dog's tennis ball alarm clock would start ringing at any moment. After shutting it off, he would say, "Times up. I'll see you tomorrow."
Today had been no different.
Counting down the seconds, Bakugou slouched in his comforter chair and kicked his feet onto the table. Periodically, the explosive teen would mouth a quiet FUCK YOU! Then refuse to elaborate. Indeed, these were dire circumstances he now found himself in.
Hound Dog read the questions off his clipboard– all of which Bakugou declined wasting oxygen on. His stubbornness did little to dissuade the canine hero, who folded his hairy arms over his chest and pretended to nap. The nerve!
BBBRRIIINNGG!
'Fucking finally! Now I can actually start doing some productive shit!'
BBBRRIIINNGG!
'Without this goddamn ringing in my ears!'
BBBRRIIINNGG!
"Can you turn that shit off!? What's taking you!?" He snapped rudely, mildly confused by the reclined posture of his designated therapist.
"HEY!"
BBBRRIIINNGG!
"FUCK FACE!" He shouted over the blaring noise.
The tendons in Bakugou's neck protruded as Hound Dog nonchalantly picked at his claws. Rising from his chair, "Fine! I'll do it myself!" he reached for the alarm clock.
A furry palm swiped the obnoxious device away.
"What gives!?"
Hound Dog wordlessly positioned the alarm clock on the far side of his desk.
"Listen, you little shit."
BBBRRIIINNGG!
"You waste my time…"
BBBRRII–! He clicked the off button.
"...I waste your time."
"Tch! You're the one getting paid to sit here and do nothing!"
"If it was up to me, you wouldn't be here." The therapist growled wolfishly.
"Thank you!"
"Not at UA. Not at any hero academy. Unfortunately you and I, we're in the same boat. It's Nezu's call… and if you weren't my student? I'd be wringing your neck right here. Right now."
'The fuck!?'
"I take my job seriously. You think I like being cooped in here, forty-five minutes everyday? You think I like being talked back to by a spoiled brat who should have his tongue cut out? Of course I don't. Because that is STUPID!"
Hound Dog's sudden vitriol made him swallow warily.
"I am willing to work with you. Despite the utter lack of respect and decency you have shown everyone at this school, Bakugou, including myself. There aren't many people who get a second chance like you have. An entire week, I have watched you sit down in that chair and give me the silent treatment. Wasted precious time. For what? You think you're above this?"
"Maybe I don't believe in guidance counseling? Ever thought of that?"
"I could be out patrolling. I could be helping other kids– far more deserving of my time than you. I could be making a difference! Instead, I am stuck with an insufferable child that throws tantrums at the drop of a hat!"
"Fuck you." Was Bakugou's withering response.
"You want to participate in practical exercises. I never want to see you again. This only happens if we both commit, and you haven't upheld your end of the deal."
"Deal?" He leered. "You're a fucking shrink! I'm here as punishment!"
"Then you've left me with no choice."
"What?"
"I'm failing you for the past week."
"WHAT!?" Bakugou leapt to his feet.
"You can't do that! I aced all of my assignments! I even showed up!"
"Really?" The canine hero flipped open his grade file and uncapped a red marker, "because it looks to me like you haven't?"
Disregarding any lines, he drew a fat 0% across the page.
Bakugou's eyes bulged in their sockets.
"You piece of–!"
"–You'll flunk your way out of UA at this rate." Hound Dog shut the file and capped his marker, unbothered by the teen's death glare.
Was it possible to be this mad at someone not named Deku?
"Get the fuck out of my office. I'll see you on Monday."
…
Shota Aizawa didn't pander to sentimentality often. Because that is irrational. Particularly, when it involved a profession like heroics, where the pool of people qualified for the role was already slim. A direct approach is necessary when assessing the gravity of situations. When lives hang in the balance, there is no room for tortuous prolixity.
Nokan's reveal as the heinous Shirai had shaken him to the core. More than it should've. Memories of Oboro– his time as a UA student– resurfaced. Shota's optimistic worldview had crumbled the instant he lost his best friend. In his grief, he blamed the one person who understood his pain and alienated him.
To this day, it remained one of his biggest regrets. Shota wished he had gone the extra mile to bury the hatchet with him and close that chapter in his life for good. But for one reason or another, he never got around to it. Bearing witness to what became of Nokan years later (Fifteen years, to be exact), reinforced this failure.
Thirteen was no ordinary colleague. She was a trusted ally. A dear friend. Judging by the confounded faces of his students, Shota discerned this to be true. Yamada cried on his shoulder for hours after news broke of her passing. He could only imagine how much this loss weighed on the kids.
Which means the erasure hero had a job to do.
"Everyone…" His authoritarian tone turned heads.
"...Shut up and listen."
Shedding his sleeping bag, they quieted down as he rounded his desk. Crossing his arms behind his back, he began to slowly pace through the aisles. For a suspenseful moment, he said nothing– merely staring at any pair of eyes that would dare intercept his own.
"I'd rather be at home, drinking coffee, reading the newspaper and cuddling with my two kittens: Salt and Pepper."
"Aww…" Ashido cooed.
"That's my happy place– home. I'm not going to pretend like I know what your motivations are. Why you applied to this school." He paused to conceptualize what he wanted to say.
"It was my second year when I made the transfer from general ed. to the hero course. Nezu was still the principal– don't ask me how old he is. If I knew I certainly wouldn't risk leaking information so classified." His attempt at dry humor earned him a few chuckles.
Pressing onward, "Crazy as it sounds, I had friends. Each of us planned on graduating from this school and becoming heroes with extensive careers. For internships, we decided it was for the best if we went our separate ways. For a while, everything was going perfect." Shota parked beside Midoriya's desk.
"Until suddenly it wasn't."
The remarkably tense atmosphere of the classroom persisted.
"A villain with a seismic activation quirk was rampaging inside a shopping mall. My best friend at the time was the first responder. He took matters into his own hands. He fulfilled his duty as a hero. He saved many lives that day," Shota readjusted his capture scarf, "but in doing so, my friend paid the ultimate price."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Aizawa," Asui croaked, "that's–"
"–Terrible? Yeah, I've heard it all before." The sleep deprived man languished.
He continued pacing.
"When you lose someone that you admired so greatly– at your age– what are you supposed to think? Do you seek refuge in your peers? Maybe, you even believe it is revenge that you seek? Perhaps, if you could inflict the same pain onto someone more deserving…?" Shota didn't have to complete the thought to get the message across.
"I can inform you, the solution, as with many things– is about finding equilibrium. What exactly does that mean? It depends on the person.
I got bitter. Resentful of authority and status. Became everything I swore I wouldn't. Being around me then– at that time– would've been an unpleasant experience." He gestured to himself.
"You can't end up like me."
That's why Shota agreed to do this job. He lost his passion for heroics long ago. All that was left was a haggard, jaded man with a zero tolerance policy and a reputation for expelling kids he felt didn't fit the bill.
"Know my reputation for being strict, for being harsh… it doesn't come from a place of disdain. Or a lack of empathy. It's tough, what you're going through. This business is brutal. It's unforgiving."
There was no sense in sugarcoating the reality they all endured.
"There will always be people outside of your reach. Sometimes, those are the ones you admired. Sometimes, those are the ones you loved." He gently patted Iida's shoulder, spurring the stocky teen to remove his glasses and dab at moist eyes.
"I couldn't be more proud of the way each of you carried yourselves on that day. All that pressure… and you never faltered. You came together as a unit." Shota made sure to emphasize this.
"Tomorrow is never a guarantee. But if you keep yourself steady? If you apply yourself– one day– you will be amazing heroes. Some of you might find yourself sitting at this very desk." He slid atop said furniture.
"But I'm no hero— heroes are supposed to be brave… That's what you're thinking? Am I wrong?"
Guessing by their downcast expressions, he hit the nail on the head.
"Yes, the sports festival is canceled. Yes, internships remain far fetched and it seems this whole semester is being postponed. Some people are upset about it. They've chosen to label you as cowards. To them, I propose a counter argument…" Shota tapered off, observing the looks of defeat around him.
The crestfallen few who could hardly lift their eyes. The sum that balled their fists out of guilt. Watching his kids suffer in silence made Shota furious, igniting a fire in his belly.
"You're still here." The rawness of his delivery struck a resounding chord within the students of 1-A.
"That took courage. No one– not some pampered pushover from 1-B or an ignorant talk show host– can ever take that from you." He allowed those words ample time to sink in.
"It's obvious that UA has a target on its back. Try as we might, this school isn't nearly as safe and secure as we originally thought. If you want to transfer to a different school, you have every right to do so. I won't stop you. Principal Nezu and I agreed it would be a wise decision, should any of you take up the offer.
The letters of recommendation have already been written. There is no shame, if you want to leave. Any school would be lucky to have you. For the sake of your well-being, and your families, this option is on the table."
"Mr. Aizawa."
At the back of the classroom in the corner where he was stationed, the problem child stood. The students latched their focus to Izuku Midoriya. The subtle tilt of his jaw indicated he took offense to what Shota said.
"For as long as I can remember, I admired heroes. If there was any facet I respected about them– more than anything else– it was how they view failure. All Might spoke of it once during an interview. 'Failure is an illusion of the mind, designed to coerce us into believing we're not good enough. Failure isn't some weakness– some chink in our armor. Failure is an opportunity to be better than the person you were yesterday.' That same man I aspired to be like, before I had these powers… He told me to try being realistic." Midoriya finished with a budding smile.
"I could've kept on lying to myself. Only, if I did, if I listened to him…?" He chuckled softly, gaze shifting from the floor to the erasure hero.
"...I would never be able to live with myself if I knew I never tried." There was a new, bold glint to his eyes.
They radiated an inner strength, all-encompassing. Shota had to commend him for his willingness to appear vulnerable in front of his peers.
"After I lost my mom, I considered abandoning this. Running away seemed like a better option than watching the people I cared about getting hurt. You hear people say the same things about you, over and over again throughout your life… until eventually, their vicious words start becoming your own. But you can't be lured into the traps they've set. Because the truth is what you make it.
I wouldn't be where I am today, if it hadn't been for the people who cared for me. If not for the amazing people sitting here, in this classroom and those who aren't with us now– I wouldn't be here. I swear it, I will never take their sacrifice for granted. Not again.
Everybody falls. Most can't choose when. That's my goal, sensei– my dream. To help those people. To do right by them, when no one else would." Midoriya declared with his chest.
"I'm not leaving!"
Passion emboldening him, "Heroes don't quit! They always find a way to get back up! They fight, not what's in front of them– but to protect what is behind them!"
Shota was astounded.
Levin stood next, brows knit with determination.
"Just cuz I'm not from around here, doesn't mean I'm gonna stop fighting the good fight. The next time Shigaraki pokes his dumb head out– it's on sight."
Kaminari whistled, "I'm with you guys! One-hundred percent!"
"I'll turn all those bastard villains to ash!" Bakugou yelled unexpectedly, slamming a volatile hand down– charring his desk.
Kaminari rotated in his chair and snarked, "That's the first thing you've said that makes any kind of sense!"
"Don't test me Spark Plug!"
The erasure hero watched the scene play out with barely contained amazement. Each of his students would rise from their seats– heads held proudly. Announcing their intentions of staying.
"Like Kirishima said…" Hagakure spoke aloud, gathering her classmates attention, "...We're committed individuals!"
"YEAH!" Ashido pumped her arms vigorously in the air. "You want to get rid of us, Mr. Aizawa? You're going to have to expel us!"
"Woah! Hey, don't tempt the man!" Sero quipped, inciting a wave of laughter.
The optimistic aura of 1-A was squandered somewhat as Aoyama approached Shota's desk. Without saying so much as a single word, he gingerly grabbed the transfer papers. The poor boy had looked rattled ever since he returned on Wednesday.
"Nobody here will judge you." The erasure hero reminded him.
Aoyama spared glances between classmates, guilt-ridden conscience on full display. The pages in his grasp crinkled. A war undetectable with the naked eye waged before them.
Arriving at the colossal door frame, his feet stalled. Sulking shoulders redefined themselves. Never lacking the flare for dramatics, Aoyama turned, hoisting the sheets high for all to see. Pinching the flimsy material–
RIIIP!
–Fragments of printed paper wafted to the linoleum floor.
With a wobbly smile on his face, he adamantly proclaimed, "Le cœur veut ce qu'il veut!"
'The heart wants what it wants.' Eraser Head understood a little French himself.
A chain reaction of sorts took place. 1-A students mobbed Shota's desk, snatching the transfer documents. Shredded paper was flung into the air. Not wanting to be the odd one out, he joined in on the action.
"Mr. Aizawa's a delinquent!" Ashido paraded giddily, toting along Koda and Shiozaki.
"To being heroes!" Midoriya rallied.
Glasses crooked from the commotion, Iida firmly avowed beside him, "TOGETHER!"
Eraser Head reveled in the moment. The culture his kids had created amongst themselves– it was a sight to behold: Friends hugging friends. Happy to have each other. Cheering for the future. Celebrating like it was their last day on Earth.
Though Oboro was dead, it seemed his jovial spirit lived on vicariously.
"You just keep on impressing me. We'll pick up where we left off next week, but for now... class is dismissed."
…
Izuku debated on whether or not this was a good idea.
Eon grabbed hold of him during a moment of weakness. Exactly like Galapagus said he would. If he wanted to keep his spot at UA, he needed to keep his composure. Wearing his heart on his sleeve was no longer an option. Moving forward, that aspect of him he wielded like a sword must remain in its scabbard.
His legs dangled from the rooftop of the main building. This view never failed to mesmerize Izuku. How the setting sunlight spilled through the tranquil forested hills. The panoramic sky, painted with puffy rivers of red like poppy fields. Far off in the distance, the tips of Musutafu stabbed the horizon.
"Jiro, if you could see what I see…"
Then, with grim irony, Izuku reminded himself why that wasn't possible.
"...Even when you're not here," He emitted a somber sigh, "you still find ways to save me."
Hefting his phone, Izuku stared at his contact list.
Keep away from my daughter and do NOT attempt to reach her.
Seared into his retinas– that text told him everything he needed to know. He wasn't wanted. He couldn't mend the damage that was done.
"This is for the best."
But that didn't mean he had to forget.
"I'm sorry."
His thumb swiped delete.
…
…
Author's Notes: This one took a while to hit the shelf. I've been sidetracked with other personal projects. Also, FanFiction seems to be bugged. Authors (And I'm not alone), are prevented from seeing the views their stories get. So it looks like the last time this story had any visitors was September 15th, 2023. However, people are still favoriting, following and leaving reviews on this… which tells me that is not entirely accurate. I'm considering jumping ship to Archive of Our Own, should this problem persist through the new year.
For as long as I can, I will keep posting here on this site. However, any NEW works that I intend to publish, would most likely show up on Archive of Our Own instead. Which stinks, because I really wanted to watch TTTH hit that 100k milestone.
…A milestone that wouldn't be possible if you guys never pushed my work to be better. I owe it all to you. Thank you for the support. Thank you for your criticism. Until we meet again, dear readers!
Stay tuned.
"...Failure gave me strength. Pain was my motivation." – Michael Jordan, Failure (1997)