Midoriya is at loss. Yet his stance is firm, his stride, confident and his posture, rigid. He follows Toga without making a sound but she fills the silence with cheerful humming, her knife twirling in her fingers. Anyone can be fooled they're working together, that he's back on his feet. Anyone can believe he's coping well on his own, or that perhaps he never needed to cope at all. Cope from what, people would ask, since he was the one who killed. His conscience must be free from regrets, from guilt and from shame.
He remembers when he came back from school crying with scraped knees and wet cheeks. His mother would wipe his tears, kiss the scratches on his arms and pour disinfectant on his bleeding injuries, making sure to blow on them to reduce the stinging. She'd then cook his favourite meal and allow him to sleep with her. It became a ritual when he returned in such a state, and when they laid in bed her mother would brush his hair and whisper in his ear.
"Don't hate them, Izuku. Don't let them corrupt you. Always do what you believe is right."
He doesn't remember when he forgot the prayer she made each night. Instead, he focused on poisonous words and let them control his life, let Quirkless and useless define him. People often remember the worst and forget the most important.
The Judge's logic didn't look flawed when he first started. After all, Pro Heroes who are incapable of protecting people are a waste of space. To eliminate them would serve two clear purposes: to do a favour to society and to send a message to Pro Heroes that they better do their job. It didn't involve setting afire the lower levels of the Police Force to cover his traces. It didn't involve Lilian Schmidt getting killed and making Natsuhiko Arata mourn his love. It didn't involve...
No more lies.
Midoriya stands in complete darkness. He doesn't know which side is right, which side is wrong, if there even were sides, if there were more than entirely right and entirely wrong sides. In the end, he got brainwashed by grief, by loathing, by bitterness.
He was too focused on surviving, on being the Judge, to to realise he changed. Drastically. Was this who he was now? A ruthless villain who'd do everything to achieve his ways? A Pro Heroes' murderer? A man thriving in chaos? A boy lost within himself?
It seems to him that a shadow's constantly breathing down his neck. It's the people he killed whispering to him. Sometimes he jerks his shoulders up, craning his neck around, shuddering, when their arms graze him. Wherever he goes, he can't escape them. They're part of him now. He'll walk with this reminder for the rest of his days but he accepted it. He accepted all of it, all of them.
They're murmuring, asking him questions he can't answer, and screaming for revenge, demanding that he be judged in turn. They're weeping, desiring to go back to the life stolen from them. They're apologising, perhaps, for their failures. Their voices crack and break, and they're all dying. Whether it's from being stabbed, from being set afire, from oxygen deprivation, they're all dying.
He's drowning in their shadows. They're curling around his arms, dragging him by the legs, caressing his face like his mother used to do before kissing him goodnight. They're draping his shoulders, forcing him to sink on his knees, and dripping down on him like the blood he had spilled. He doesn't squirm when they ruffle his hair before tugging harder, but the pain is welcomed because it reminds him he's alive. Even when he stands in broad daylight, Midoriya still feels them sticking to his skin like to a child of darkness.
"Izuku-kun, look! It's the Pro Hero I had to impersonate!"
Midoriya jolts as if he got shocked. His eyes dart around to find Toga peeking out from the corner, her head tilting back and forth like a pendulum. He doesn't dare verifying with his own eyes the identity of the person who's coming and grabs her shoulder instantly, pulling her back.
"Toga, it's not worth the time."
"But he was such fun to toy with. It'd be a shame to pass this opportunity, right?"
She takes a step forward but Midoriya holds her back with the little strength he can muster. She glances back at him, fluttering her eyelashes as if hoping she could convince him of letting her go on a rampage, but he glares down at her.
"I said it's not worth the time," he hammers.
She pulls out her tongue at him, eyes shut tight. "You're no fun. Stainy is funnier than you."
Midoriya grits his teeth, releasing her, "Well if you prefer Stain, don't waste your time on me and run back to him."
"Oh, there's no need to. Stainy's already here."
"What did you say?" He knows he should be overjoyed, at least relieved, that his agents didn't let him down, but he's having chills rolling down his back gazing at Toga's toothy smile.
"I'm here to extract you while Stainy and Dabi have some fun. It's not fair, so if I get to kill some people don't stop me." She flashes him a last smile before stepping in the open, in the middle of the corridor, arms spread wide as if to embrace Todoroki. "Pro Hero-san! Pro Hero-san! I have something for you."
Before he can protest, she loops one arm around his torso, pulling him into view. Midoriya shakes his head and uses his longer bangs to hide his eyes, focusing on steadying his breath. He can't see Todoroki from this position but he knows they're standing in the same room. The air is turning colder, frost creeping on the walls and the hair on his arms rising.
"Midoriya..." His voice's trembling but Midoriya can't decide whether it's from pain or from relief. "Are you hurt?"
Midoriya doesn't trust his voice enough, so he shakes his head, still looking down. His heart pounds and his whole body is tense, foretelling a disaster. It's like he's standing on an open ground that trembles under buffalos' hooves, and he can see them coming from afar yet his feet are glued to the ground and even if he could run, he'd have nowhere to hide and no time to flee.
Toga's arm releases him and she pushes him away. With his feet manacled, he stumbles backwards before tripping. He catches himself on his hands, wincing as the ground scrapes against his palms.
"You've hurt him enough. How about we turn the tables?"
She moves to lunge at him but as her body is caught in the momentum, her feet are rooted on the spot. Her eyes are wide as they take in the ice curled against her legs, keeping up from moving. Todoroki bolts towards Midoriya, ignoring the villain whose head is thrown back, exposing her throat, as she laughs.
He crouches by Midoriya's side, a spurt of flames melting the metal chain linking his feet. Midoriya dares looking at him, but the latter's focused on Toga, his body coiled ready to spring and his eyes narrowed in vigilance.
"Midoriya, go," he orders, rising to his full height.
"But where?"
Todoroki glances at him from over his shoulders and Midoriya stops breathing. The Hero breaks the eye contact first, and Midoriya's chest is heavy and his heart, hollow.
"Anywhere but here."
"But—" He raises one tentative hand towards Todoroki, wanting to grasp his shirt and make him turn, but his will fades and his hand ends up falling back beside him. Words die in his throat as he conjures them in his mind, none of them suitable to express his sorrow, his shame, his regret. "Todoroki-kun..."
He whirls around, hands twitching as fire flares in one and frost materialises on the other. "If you have something to tell me, do it now."
Midoriya smells the smoke before he sees the threat, but blurry movements behind Todoroki are all he needs as a confirmation to scramble on his feet and slam like a ram in Todoroki, his arms wrapping themselves around his torso. He pulls the two of them on the floor, hearing the faint whistle of an object slicing the air. Looking up, both notice the knife embedded in the wall at the very height where Todoroki's head was a few seconds later.
Midoriya sighs in relief, then reddens upon realising he was standing above the Hero's crotch. Todoroki doesn't push him off instantly, his eyebrows receding to his hairline, but Midoriya's quick to disentangle himself from the Hero.
"Damn, should've known it wouldn't work on you."
"I'm the one who told you how to use your Quirk for stealth. Of course it wouldn't work on me," Midoriya growls.
Dabi emerges from the smoke, a grinning Toga trotting behind him. He tosses a sleek object in the air that Midoriya catches with ease, his hands placing themselves automatically, like he's been taught. The gun weighs like lead in his hands yet it slots in them as if it belongs there.
"What are you waiting for?" Midoriya watches Dabi indicating Todoroki with a nonchalant tilt of the chin. "He knows too much."
"If you can't get the father, then get the son!" Toga chirps in encouragement but it makes his blood run cold.
Midoriya turns around, the gun's chamber angled towards the floor. Todoroki's standing up and although he saw the weapon, he remains immobile. Neither fire nor ice appears in his hands, and his stance is casual, almost welcoming, definitely daring or rather confident... yet not in himself. Todoroki's confident that he won't shoot, Midoriya realises, so he aims at his forehead. He waits for a reaction that never comes, his arms tiring as he maintains them horizontal.
"Shoot him, Judge."
Midoriya snickers upon hearing the familiar moniker he used to wear like an armour, "You're still calling me Judge, uh?"
"Stain's more of an enforcer than a judge."
"A butcher," Toga pipes in approval.
"An executioner," Midoriya whispers, and he knows better than to fool himself. He's wall aware who's going to be next person executed by Stain if he fails again.
"Midoriya," Todoroki calls, drawing his attention. He steps forward, and Midoriya's grip tightens, his aim that was drooping once again deadly.
"Stop right there. I'm going to shoot!"
"Go ahead," he tempts, still approaching. Only a few inches separate him from the gun when he stops, staring at Midoriya in the eye. "Shoot."
It's not a command but it's not a plea either. There must be a message hidden underneath that Midoriya fails to understand, but as if to deny his theory Todoroki leans forward until his forehead is pressed against the chamber.
"Don't miss."
Midoriya knows very well the choice he has to make. The rope's already around his neck, and the ground on which he stands is shaky, deceiving, for he can't remain with the Police Force but returning to the League with his pride shattered and no Endeavor's head on a platter will bring consequences. Either way, he's going to end his life miserably, disgraced, rejected, loathed, once everything will topple under him. None of the options pleases him but if his fate's already decided, then he can do whatever he wants since the paths he'll take will all lead him to his downfall.
He stares at Todoroki who, in turn, observes him. Midoriya immerses himself in the Hero's trusting eyes, riveted on him, unblinking, as if to etch Midoriya's visage in his mind and commit it forever to memory. The eyes are the mirror to the soul, his mother once told him, and the gateway to the heart. If so, then Midoriya showed Todoroki the gap he tried so much to fill by any mean possible, by trying to block the insults dating from his childhood, by becoming a police officer since he couldn't be a Pro Hero, by letting Tsukauchi order him around and be his mentor, by recruiting agents to act for him, by killing someone himself... but the gap can only be filled with something warm enough to comfort him, to assure him he's enough, yet cold enough to anchor him to reality and wake him up from the nightmare he caged himself into.
If so, then Midoriya let the fire and the ice engulf him.
"I'll go only if you find me afterwards," he tells Todoroki, his voice barely a whisper.
"Even if I have to spend my entire life looking for you, I'll always find you, Midoriya."
Midoriya closes his eyes and lowers the gun. One of Todoroki's arm curls around his waist and he switches their places, Midoriya now standing behind him, further from Dabi and Toga.
"Judge, what's this about?" The former inquires, untucking his hands from his pockets and cracking his knuckles.
"Izuku-kun, if you do this, Stainy will be really disappointed."
Midoriya really doesn't give a damn about Stain and he's about to tell them a piece of his mind when Todoroki shifts, his fingers brushing Midoriya's.
"Go," is all he says without even looking back.
Midoriya knows he should obey and go, take the chance that's being granted to him so generously, but he falters instead of sprinting away. He stares at Todoroki's broad back, at his large hands afire or frozen, at the determination oozing from his stance. Leaving now sounds wrong. Leaving anytime sounds wrong. Todoroki never left his side, yet Midoriya's leaving as soon as he gets the opportunity.
"Todoroki-kun, I—"
"I know."
He doesn't add anything but Midoriya hears him.
So he takes a deep breath and dashes away.
His eyes remain wide open but he blocks any sounds around him. He can't risk his imagination running wild. If an attack connects, then it might be Todoroki who got struck. If someone gasps, it might be him in pain. If there's a crash, it might be him collapsing under Dabi's or Toga's or both of their attacks. If Midoriya ever believes Todoroki's in danger, then he'll spin on his heels and sprint back to Todoroki even if it might kill him.
The advantage of being incarcerated in the Police Force's building is that he knows the layout by heart. The cells are located in the lower levels, close to the laboratories still barricaded by the fire he himself started, and there's only one way to get out: climb the sole flight of stairs leading to the first floor and head to the closest exit. The basement is shaped like a maze, with corridors leading to dead ends and some going in circles, but Midoriya's not a random prisoner: he's a police officer who spent his days memorising everything there is to know about the building.
He turns around a corner and stops, his breath cut short. Rivers of blood converge towards one person standing in the middle of corpses. In one hand the villain holds a man by the collar and with the other, in one sharp motion, he slices his neck with a katana. Midoriya almost drops his gun as he watches the blood gushing out of the wound, painting the walls and the floor crimson.
"Stain," he chokes.
The villain tenses, letting go of the policeman's collar, and the man crumbles on the ground, desperately trying to stop the flow with two hands, gurgling. Midoriya takes aim, watching how his two hands were quivering as they brandished the weapon towards Stain. The latter scowls at him, wiping his katana dirtied with blood.
"Judge," he greets, bowing his head. "Since you look intent on shooting me down, should I understand that you changed your mind about your cause?"
If the Judge's cause entails murdering innocents, then Midoriya never would've approved it. The Judge was created to protect citizens and to ensure their safety from faulty Heroes. The feeling of power that came with deciding a person's fate rushed to his head, blinding him to the 'collateral damage' that killing Heroes causes. Killing one person doesn't make one victim: it harms the people surrounding said person, perhaps even more than if they were the one murdered.
Midoriya clenches his jaw as his eyes roam on the slaughtered police officers, no doubt killed only because they were standing on Stain's way. Since the villain was coming for him, Midoriya's aware that these men, those nameless colleagues, were massacred because of him.
I never wanted any of this.
He breathes out, steadying his aim. He's the one who invented the Judge. He's the one who's going to put an end to this folly.
Stain grunts, unfazed, "When I first saw you, I believed you lacked what it takes to shoulder the burden of taking a life. I'm much more capable than you to be the Judge, yet I gave you a chance."
"If you want to be the Judge, go ahead."
"You think you can get a clean slate simply by delegating your title to me? You have blood on your hands as much as I do."
He remembers clearly Tozawa Anri's frantic eyes as she pleaded him to live, and then her kicking and writhing stopping as his hands crushed her windpipes. The image invaded his mind and even when he screwed his eyes shut he could distinguish her lithe figure, inert under him, then the fire devouring the evidences he left behind.
What did I do?
"You'll never be able to free your conscience," Stain taunts, as if listening to his thoughts. "To live a decent life, you must not think about your crime or else the guilt will consume you."
"Let it consume me, then," Midoriya cries out, cursing inwardly as his hands resume their shaking. "I deserve it. I became what I swore to never become."
"You became the Judge to survive. We both know this society is rotten. You lived by upholding your morals. You were enforcing justice."
"Is it justice if I'm the only one thinking that way?"
"But you're not the only one."
Yet it was different. Stain's killing for morals of his own that Midoriya fails to understand. Dabi's killing for a reason he never learned, but his bitterness towards Heroes must have something to do with a Hero failing him at some point in his life. Toga's killing for pure fun, this is evident, while Midoriya's sickened at the thought of enjoying ripping someone's stomach apart or stabbing their back multiple times. Tomura's killing out of spite, believing that Heroes plague society instead of improving it, and his values always clashed with Midoriya's.
The Judge's killing for... Why was he killing? Was it for people, or was it a pretext to kill to quench the resentment he felt, or rather to appease his self-consciousness eating away his sanity? Everything that was crystal clear is now muddled, and each time he wants to understand it's like trying to grasp wisps of smoke.
"I'm not like you," he whispers. "I've never been like you."
"It appears you're right." Stain knows better than to deny it, rather pointing his katana in his direction. "It all ends now."
Midoriya doesn't wait for him to finish his sentence and pulls the trigger. The bullet hits the wall, Stain leaping in the air and using the ceiling to manoeuvre himself and propel him towards Midoriya. While it amazes him how fast Stain can move, him whose Quirk doesn't enhance his physical capacities, he can't allow himself to be distracted when pitted against this individual whose strength and resilience he admires. With no clear target, he fires again, jumping back as a flash of metal strikes like a cobra for his neck.
He stumbles, the ground slippery with blood, and clamps one hard around his neck. If Stain manages to draw a blood, even if it's a nick that leaves one or two drops on his blade, then it's all over. The villain's Quirk in itself isn't deadly, but the training he underwent makes him lethal and combined with his Quirk, then underestimating him would be an idiotic move. Midoriya removes his hand, relieved to see no red smeared on his palm.
He has no time to rejoice, for Stain launches himself on him, his two katanas dancing dangerously. Midoriya focuses on avoiding them, sometimes blocking one of the swords with the gun. He knows Stain wants to back him to the wall and he's succeeding since Midoriya's unable to retaliate. He trips over a corpse, his mind going blank as he watches a katana going straight for his neck.
Tsukauchi's voice rings in his head, imperious, Remember, use your surroundings as well.
Without thinking, he grabs the body on which he fell and hurls it towards Stain. The latter halts and his katana's sinks in the dead's flesh like cutting through butter. Midoriya scrambles to his feet, never looking away from the villain who's grunting and throwing the body aside. He looks more annoyed than angry, then his eyes narrow on a specific spot on the ground. Midoriya follows his gaze and stares at the gun lying halfway between them, dropped in his haste to get away.
"You never should've been the Judge," Stain spits yet doesn't move.
"I've been thinking the same thing to be honest."
"I would be much more efficient than you. I wouldn't deny my morals."
"I'm not denying them. On the contrary, I'm embracing them."
"Then your morals are worthless."
Stain bolts towards him, katanas raised and ready to impale him, and Midoriya lets him come with his eyes wide open, welcoming death. Going for the gun would be suicide. Trying to escape won't advantage him since Stain would catch up with him in matter of seconds. Resisting would be futile since he's no match for the villain.
He didn't expect Stain to fall in the middle of his run, his knees buckling under him and his katanas clattering on the ground. Midoriya watches him struggling to rise, Stain's smouldering eyes locking with his, and then rolling back in their orbit as he loses consciousness. He notices the gunshot lodged in the villain's spine, a true marksman shot. His back reveals more wounds ranging from cuts to gunshot grazes to serious bullet wounds. It was almost a miracle that the villain was standing and attacking with such vigour.
Midoriya lets out the breath he was holding, one hand pressed against his chest to feel his frenetic heartbeat. He pinches himself hard and winces, then does it another time to make sure it wasn't a dream. He wants to laugh. It wasn't.
It wasn't.
"Midoriya-kun..."
He startles, his head snapping up. Tsukauchi is leaning against the wall, his two hands still grabbing his gun now aimed at the floor, and he's breathing heavily. Midoriya doesn't miss the blood splattered all across his chest and the pallor of his skin.
"Tsukauchi-san!" He shouts, reaching for him just in time to catch him in his arms. "Tsukauchi-san, are you...?"
He knows the answer even if his brain refuses to accept it. Still, he tears his shirt and wraps the fabric tight around the man's torso where the rivulets of blood were streaming down. He has to stop the pouring, or else the detective might succumb to blood loss. He should call for help. Does Tsukauchi has a phone on him? He has to call an ambulance and ask for supplementary blood bags to be stocked since it's obvious his superior will need a transfusion.
"So it was you..."
Midoriya freezes for a second before continuing, his actions methodical and robotic, remembering the courses he had to take to become a police officer. Tsukauchi's not helping him, however, his hands interfering and loosening the knot Midoriya was trying to tie.
"Stop, stop," he mumbles, hitting Midoriya's wrist lightly. "It's no use."
"I'm sure you can hold on until reinforcements arrive. It'll be alright, sir."
"And you... have the gall to call me sir."
Midoriya bites his lower lip then bows his head. "I apologise. I acted against the code of honour I swore to abide by. I killed a civilian by strangling her at her residence then set her apartment on fire. I participated actively in killing two others. I attempted on murdering another one." He couldn't stop even if he wanted to, the words pouring out of his mouth like water overflowing a dam, like the tears falling from his eyes and raining on Tsukauchi. "I'm sorry, sir, Tsukauchi-san. I—"
"It's alright." His voice's gentler now, weakened by the wound but also tight with emotions. "I can feel your sincerity. I think... it's the first time you speak this truly."
"I'm sorry, sir," Midoriya repeats like a broken record, his sight hazy from the tears. "I'll accept whatever sentence you'll choose."
He's fumbling with the fabric he wants to tie around Tsukauchi's wound, his fingertips coated with blood. The detective grips both of his hands firmly, and Midoriya marvels at how they're warmer, bigger and so much stronger than his.
"Stain destroyed everything. Every proof. Every camera tape."
"But Endeavor—"
"—cannot prove that you're guilty. Yes, you were there... but so were others."
"What about All Might?"
"He's convinced All for One forced you to work for him. This, also, is my opinion," Tsukauchi adds.
Midoriya shakes his head, "But it's not the truth. Todoroki knows."
The detective laughs, his chuckle transforming in a grimace since his chest vibrates, moving his wound. "Of all of us... you worry about Todoroki the most?"
Why wouldn't he worry about Todoroki? The Hero witnessed practically everything. Even if he spares him, there's no way he'll also spare Midoriya from the trial he deserves, from the sentence he's going to earn.
"There's nothing to laugh about," Midoriya protests.
"Midoriya-kun... Todoroki was ready to hide your identity from us... and to bear the consequences. He's the most faithful to you... Didn't you realise? Ah, ignorant youth..."
Tsukauchi's half-lidded eyes are smiling but he's too weak to laugh. His grip around Midoriya's hands has lost some strength but Midoriya doesn't let go. He's weeping in silence, holding the detective close, lifting his head so he can talk.
"Tell me something, Midoriya Izuku..." He has to bend over to listen, straining his ears to catch the question. "Do you regret it? Everything... that the Judge's done?"
"Yes. Yes, I regret it," he sobs feebly.
"Then I forgive you."
There shouldn't be anything to forgive. It shouldn't be so easy to forgive. He never even asked for forgiveness. Tsukauchi's an imbecile, he decides between two sniffles, and as he opens to mouth to speak, he notices that the man's eyes are closed. He gasps for breath, expecting him to do the same, but he remains utterly immobile.
"Tsukauchi-san?" He shakes him a little, waiting for a sign, a twitch, a grunt, anything. "Tsukauchi-san, open your eyes." Midoriya snivels and shifts, watching his head loll, his features slack. "He'll wake up. Maybe if I wait..."
He stays by his side, waiting.
Todoroki finds him like this, kneeling on the ground, holding Tsukauchi in a pool of blood. There are no words exchanged, only touches, looks and tears.
And All Might finds them like this, two men embracing each other in a corridor full of corpses.