Brief content warning: This chapter features dissociation symptoms. (I think, anyway. I have no personal experience with dissociation, but this chapter definitely seems to line up with the symptoms.)

Chapter 56

.::White Noise::.

Izuku stared at his notebook in sullen silence, rereading some of the messages he'd scrawled onto the page over the past half hour before running out of space.

'We found some friends that can help. We told them everything and they want to help'

'Uraraka got in contact with some friends outside that can help. We talked on the phone'

'We got in touch with some people who can help us. They're just teens, not heroes or police, but'

'We found some allies outside. I can't say their names or give much information, but they're good'

Those were only a portion of the lines that filled the page, but he couldn't feel bothered to read all of them. Every single paragraph had been cut off mid-sentence, losing steam partway through as he repeatedly realized how bad each one sounded.

Izuku wanted to tell Kacchan and Shinsou about the latest developments with contacting the others so badly, because they suddenly had at least five more allies. A total of five people from his world, along with some potential extra allies from the connections they'd made in this world like Anjou and this world's Kirishima, maybe even Hatsume. This was honestly the best news he'd gotten since waking up in this world!

But as amazing as this was, he couldn't tell them everything. Dropping the "I'm from another world, and I found more of my people" bombshell wouldn't go over well. That meant he'd need to give some other explanation for how he found them, and... he couldn't think of anything, really.

Given he'd lived with the Alliance since he was eight, he had no way to explain how he knew them without making the others seem like suspicious people. Saying Uraraka knew them would be too vague and could make them just as wary, especially since Izuku had told them he couldn't remember how he knew Uraraka. He finally figured he could just go with "we found allies" without going into specifics, but then he realized all they did so far was just brief the others on the situation. They hadn't made any solid plans or anything, he had nothing useful to report yet.

And on top of all that, Izuku was too wary to say any of this out loud. He didn't want to risk anyone overhearing them (namely Seiko), hence his decision to try to write a letter outlining it. He figured it would be safer for them to read it, and then have Kacchan destroy the paper. But obviously that wasn't working so far. Each version would raise questions he couldn't really answer without raising alarm bells of some sort.

He sighed as he tore the page out of the notebook and ripped it up into tiny pieces, dropping some into the trash can and shoving the rest into his pockets. As much as he wanted to tell them the good news, tonight probably wouldn't be the best time. He just couldn't think of a good way to break the news right now. Izuku wouldn't put it off forever, he'd probably do it tomorrow, but right now he just didn't have any ideas on how to approach all of this.

For now he got up and left his bedroom, dropping off the remaining shreds of paper in a couple of trashcans along the way as he headed towards the bar. Given it was a Saturday evening it was a bit busier than usual, the chatter audible even with the door closed. Izuku gulped as he opened it just a crack, peeking out into the dimly lit space to quickly skim the room.

Some patrons he recognized from seeing around the Alliance's base, but many others were clearly outsiders. Magne was talking to some guy at the bar with a smirk, clearly flirting with him, while Mr. Compress sat a table showed off some card tricks to the people there. His stomach rolled though as he recognized one of the magician's audience members as X-Less, a Pro Hero in his own world. He wore a near-identical version of his costume, just missing the cape and looking a bit more ragged.

Izuku quickly shook his head and pushed the door open a little more. It was behind the counter, so once he opened it further he could see Kurogiri talking to one of the patrons. The misty man poured a glass in front of the woman (who Izuku thought he vaguely recognized as a sidekick from coverage of the Kamino aftermath), and as he turned to place the bottle back on the shelf he caught sight of Izuku.

As soon as they made eye contact he subtly inclined his head, and Izuku quickly retreated back into the hall. Less than a minute later the door opened again and Kurogiri stepped through. "I assume you are here for Eraserhead's dinner?" he intoned smoothly, and Izuku nodded sheepishly.

"Yeah. Um, sorry for the trouble." He'd been getting Aizawa's meal himself for most of the week, but after Slycer's cooking disaster the previous night, Kurogiri had banned nearly everyone from the kitchen. He'd put together an approved list of cooks, and apparently this world's Izuku didn't make the cut. Given some of the cooking misadventures with Toga he'd written about in his journals, he didn't blame the man.

"It's fine," Kurogiri said, already leading the way to the kitchen. "I already finished preparations for the meal you requested and left it in the fridge."

"Ah, thank you so much." Izuku smiled more genuinely now, feeling a rush of relief. He'd asked Kurogiri to make some sushi rolls instead of the usual sandwiches. It was simple and clean to eat without utensils, perfect for the mittens. Even better: the meal was one of the few things he'd seen Aizawa actually eat in his own world besides his jelly pouches. He'd eaten them on two occasions, so Izuku figured it might be something he liked a little more than most food.

When they arrived at the kitchen and opened the fridge, Izuku was pleased to see a tray of sushi that looked exactly like he remembered. He hadn't known exactly what kind it was, but his description had apparently been enough for Kurogiri to figure out the fillings. "Thanks," he repeated as he took the plate. "And uh, sorry for making such a weird request on such short notice."

"It's fine," Kurogiri dismissed him. "I must get back to the bar now. If you need any other food, consult the list for someone else."

"Will do," Izuku promised with a smile, and the two parted ways. As he got closer to Aizawa's cell his smile faded though, his shoulders becoming heavier and stepped more weighted with apprehension. By the time he finally arrived he found himself hesitating outside the door, free hand poised to knock. All he could think of was Aizawa's glare from that morning, making his chest feel tight with discomfort.

Just get it over with, he told himself, and rapped on the door before pushing it open. "Eraserhead, sir?" he called softly. "I have dinner." He got no response and slipped inside quietly, hoping it meant the man was asleep. At least then they'd be able to avoid the confrontation.

Alas, his hopes were quickly dashed though when he found himself on the receiving end of an icy glare from Aizawa as he laid on the floor. If he had any doubts about the man's feelings towards him, they were gone now. He didn't even bother trying to mask his mistrust and loathing now that they were alone.

Seeing the dark glower usually reserved for villains made Izuku's stomach churn, and he quietly gulped as he crept over with the plate. "I got some really good sushi rolls tonight," he offered, setting it down in reaching distance of the hero as he sat on the floor. "Kurogiri made it special. I think he said it's got cucumber, mitsuba and shiitake mushrooms...?" He trailed off more questioningly than he intended, and hoped that didn't make it sound suspicious.

Aizawa eyed the plate for a moment before finally turning his head to continue staring the ceiling, effectively snubbing the meal, much to Izuku's dismay. He never thought Aizawa of all people would outright ignore food like this to make a point. It felt so childish and illogical to go on a hunger strike when he was a prisoner. Unless he thought the food was poisoned of course, which made Izuku wince and feel guilty for different reasons—

"I hope you realize how screwed up this is."

The man's voice startled Izuku, jolting and looking at him wide-eyed. Aizawa still didn't look at him, pointedly facing the ceiling, and Izuku swallowed harshly.

"I... Yeah, I know," he said quietly.

"Do you really?" Aizawa challenged lowly, voice almost bland, bored, despite the harshness of it. Izuku flinched at the clear implications, the guilty pang and pit in his stomach feeling even worse.

"Of course I do," he whispered. "It's not right to lock people up, or kidnap someone, or... m-muzzle them... o-or... b-b-break their..." His voice grew shakier with each word and he trailed off with a grimace, trying not to look at Aizawa's broken leg at the last part. He hung his head shamefully, hands clenching at his side. "This is all wrong. It's all really, really messed up."

"And yet you don't even do anything." The words had Izuku jolting, head snapping up wide-eyed to find Aizawa leering at him from the corner of his eye. "You don't try to tell your 'brother' how screwed up this is, you don't try to get the fucking muzzle off that other kid. You just go along with it all and act like nothing's wrong, as if this is perfectly normal and fine."

"What? No. No!" Izuku shook his head furiously, the accusation hitting him even harder than everything else so far. "I'm not trying to do that or ignore it, it's just—just... what can I even do?" He deflated and slumped as he felt his energy drain, staring at the floor miserably. "I'm just one kid surrounded by a bunch of villains. I can't do anything on my own." It was a fact he'd realized soon after waking up, and was why he'd been so relieved to recruit the others. Izuku was in way over his head, and the feeling of helplessness made it hard to sleep at night.

"You're right, you can't," Aizawa commented calmly, surprising Izuku. The man still faced the ceiling, very pointedly not looking at him as he continued. "The Alliance is full of dangerous people that have killed heroes with years of training and experience. Fighting them would be suicidal for a Pro Hero, let alone a teenage kid with no training or even a Quirk."

The last words hit Izuku like a brick, stomach sinking and an icy chill washing over him. The words weren't meant as an insult, weren't a jab at him, but hearing it still brought up a wave of pain he'd been trying to forget. It had been so long since he'd been spoken as lesser because of his lack of Quirk, treated as someone who just wasn't capable because he lacked something everyone else had. Hearing it from a teacher he respected—even another world's counterpart—made it hurt even worse.

He bit his lip as he looked away, silently willing himself not to cry. Given the Midoriya family's penchant for tears, it took a lot more self control than he'd like. "Then... Then what do you expect me to do?" he forced out, trying not to focus on the last bit. "There's nothing—"

"You can leave," Aizawa cut in. "You're not a prisoner, you don't have to stay here. You can call for help, report this place to the police or heroes. You've had years to do that, even before those other kids got kidnapped." He rolled his head away from Izuku, but even so he still caught the beginnings of a scowl on the man's face. "But you've done nothing. Even now. You just act complacent and go along with it all. You don't even speak up."

The cold accusation felt like it crashed right into Izuku, the weight of it crushing him even as a voice in the back of his head screamed that he was wrong. "It's not that simple," he whispered, voice sounding broken even to his own ears. "Tomura doesn't... If I say I don't like something, or it's wrong, h-he'll be just as likely to k-kill them b-because no one's supposed to know about me. He's just so protective, and he doesn't really always think too much before doing stuff, you j-just don't get it."

"Is that why you don't even try calling someone?" Aizawa muttered darkly, and Izuku flinched.

"It's too dangerous... The only number I can find are the police, and they might not take me seriously because I'm a kid, or they might just send someone to look before reporting it, and then..." He trailed off and shook his head before continuing, "And even if I managed to somehow contact heroes, and they believed me and trusted me, they won't... Th-they don't know what they'd be getting into..."

"That's not your place to decide."

"But they don't!" Izuku protested, shaking his head more vigorously. "If they come here, they'll get themselves killed or worse! I know I'm safe because Tomura won't let anyone hurt me, but everyone else is fair game! And if the rescue fails, we'll just move bases again, and Tomura will probably order everyone to kill all the prisoners to get rid of loose ends! I can't risk Kacchan and Hijack and you and all those heroes' lives!"

"It's still not your call to make," Aizawa replied gruffly. "And even then, I know you had the perfect opportunity to leave before all of this happened. You almost did, too, but you changed your mind at the last second."

"But I couldn't leave then!" Izuku almost shouted, tears in his eyes. "If I left then, Tomura-nii and the rest—they would have come after me for sure! They were so close, and I didn't notice until the last second! And that guy—h-he couldn't escape if he took me with him, and he wasn't strong enough to fight them off! He could barely get away on his own! It was too dangerous!"

Aizawa gave a derisive snort. "Convenient, kid," he drawled. "I suppose you also couldn't just try to arrange a meeting in a safe, neutral location later when the Alliance wasn't suspicious about intruders. Or give him some way to contact you later, or mention where the other bases were."

"Th-that's..." Izuku couldn't even respond to that, heart pounding in his ears as he stared at the captive hero in mute shock. His mouth felt dry, his head buzzing with anxiety. Aizawa finally turned over to look at Izuku again, dark eyes boring into the teenager with icy cold apathy.

"If you really thought this was wrong, if you really wanted out, you had the perfect opening to do something," he said lowly. "You had the opening to give someone information with minimal risk of the Alliance finding out, or to at least arrange your own escape at a later date. But you didn't. You did absolutely nothing. I don't know how old you are, or if you were born into this or what, but you clearly have enough of a conscience to understand this is all wrong. And because of that, your continued inaction makes you a willing accomplice. It's clear have no desire to stop them, or even try to leave."

The last words made Izuku's breath hitch, his mind momentarily going blank. An accomplice? No desire to stop them? To leave?

In the span of a second his mindset completely shifted. Gone was the anxiety, apprehension and guilt that had been steadily building under Aizawa's endless stream of rebukes. Rage filled him as the tears continued to fall, face screwing with anger and nearly shooting to his feet.

"Then where would I go?" he roared, meeting Aizawa's icy glower with a furious snarl of his own. "The heroes will treat me as suspicious and probably want to lock me up as an accomplice! Or maybe they'll throw me in foster care because I'm supposed to be a useless, Quirkless Deku, it wouldn't be the first time the Hero Commission ignored everything else about a Quirkless orphan's background and just write them off as completely unimportant and not even worth a glance! Or maybe they'll try to throw me into some stupid—stupid brainwashing program, to make me into a perfect weapon and slap the 'hero' label on me!"

"Those are ridiculous accusations bordering on conspiracy theories," Aizawa countered flatly, looking perfectly indifferent in the face of Izuku's furious rant. That lack of reaction—that flat, apathetic expression—just made Izuku even angrier.

"But they already do that!" he exploded. "They did it to Hawks, and with underground heroes like Lady of the Night and who knows who else! You don't know half the stuff they get up to behind the scenes, I don't know either, but it's only gotten worse since All Might fought All For One! And at least here, I'm safe! And the world is safe! Because who would believe that—"

White.

White suddenly filled Izuku's vision, and his mind with a high-pitched hum like an old television monitor turning on. The world felt silent and empty, his mind blank, all senses overcome by whiteness and that singular hum.

What... what happened? Izuku felt fuzzy, like he wasn't fully there. Nothing existed, not the world or color or gravity or even time, nothing but himself, and even that felt oddly light and uncertain. Not solid, not really. What's going on? What's wrong?

A single line cut through the center of the whiteness, a horizontal split dividing it in half, and then the white began to dim. Distantly, he gradually became aware of a pressure on his shoulder, a muffled sound slowly becoming clear over the fading hum. It felt almost like another hum at first, but not as high pitched. Lower, and more inconsistent than the singular note filling his mind. Like... a voice. Talking.

"...ri...dori...id...ook...me...bre...focus..."

A pang of familiarity filled him at the deep tone. "Sen...sei...?" he mouthed, but couldn't hear himself, couldn't tell if he said it or just thought it. He raised his head blearily (when had it fallen?) as his vision continued to slowly shift, the blinding whiteness dimming and giving way to the dark colors of reality. As everything came more and more into focus he could make out the familiar shapes of Aizawa's face, so much closer than it had been before. Before? Before what?

"...doriya," he was saying. "Focus on me, and... shit, this isn't a panic..." His voice lowered to a dark murmur for a moment, too quiet for Izuku to hear over the still-fading hum. Izuku just blinked blearily, staring up at his teacher as he waited for everything to come back into focus, for the world to become real again, for his mind to make sense again.

Touch came back first. His palms were on the cold floor supporting his weight, his knees only shielded from the cold cement by the fabric of his pants. He'd been standing before, hadn't he? Had he been standing? Had he fallen down? Why and when? He didn't know, so he stopped thinking about it, focused on the other things he could feel.

The pressure on his shoulder... It was Aizawa's hand, wasn't it? It had to be, with him so close. But the grip didn't feel as tight as it usually did, he couldn't feel Aizawa's fingers digging through the fabric of his shirt like the other times Aizawa held his shoulder. It felt weirdly soft and almost limp, too light. Of course he couldn't feel the individual fingers, the mittens got in the way of his grip.

"Mit...tens...?" he mumbled, gaze trailing to Aizawa's other hand which rested on the ground. The hand Aizawa used to help prop himself up, torso half-lifted off the ground and broken leg awkwardly stretched and angled to the side. Izuku's eyes lingered on the splint. Right... Shigaraki broke his leg, to help keep him from escaping along with the collar. The chain on the collar was half-buried under Aizawa, the links clearly stretched out to their limit with how taut they looked.

Aizawa had dragged himself nearly to the chain's limit to get closer to Izuku. Even though they'd just been arguing about something, even though he was supposed to keep a distance, even though he had a broken leg, the man had come to check on Izuku. Izuku slowly looked back to his teacher's face to see his features screwed up with concern. Concern, and wariness.

"Kid, what the hell just happened?" he asked, and Izuku could tell he was trying to be gentle, even if it came out gruff and almost, almost accusatory. He knew his teacher well enough to recognize the note of worry hidden under his harsh exterior, the faintest trace of panic, even if this wasn't his teacher.

"I..." Izuku trailed off, because he didn't know. Something felt wrong, so wrong, and he didn't know what.

"Midoriya?" Aizawa pressed gently, and Izuku felt a sudden pang of homesickness, of yearning and wistfulness for his Aizawa, his teacher. Not this—this...

"I need to go," he croaked. He pulled away from Aizawa abruptly and scrambled to his feet to rush to the door. Given what just happened (what had happened?) he half-expected to stagger and stumble over his feet but his steps were steady, a fact he only realized once he was in the hallway and had shut the door behind him.

For a moment he just stood there, slumped against the door with hands pressed against his face and eyes squeezed shut. What was wrong with him? He exhaled a slow, shaky breath and lowered his hand, blinking blearily as he looked down the hallway.

...Which way was his room?

A thread of panic tightened around his heart as he stared down either direction of the hallway. The hallway, which he'd visited nearly every day for the past week, suddenly felt unfamiliar and almost alien. The doors seemed to stretch endlessly in each direction, and he didn't know which way led out. Only when his eyes locked on the door with the biohazard sign leading to Aiko's basement lab did the abrupt sense of disorientation fade, but only slightly.

He turned and began making his way down the hall slowly, cautiously, and felt a shred of relief when the hallway with Shinsou's cell came into sight. The relief only lasted a moment though, because he realized this hallway still felt oddly less familiar now. But it wasn't as alien as the one with Aizawa's cell, and he swallowed harshly as he stared forward.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. "Seiko?" he called out quietly, weakly, pleading for her to appear for once since he'd first met her. To guide him, to help him get back because he suddenly didn't trust himself to find his way back to his room.

But she didn't appear. The hallway remained silent and empty, not so much as a shadow flickering under the steady fluorescent lights. After several long moments Izuku exhaled a shaky breath before he began to pick his way forward, unusually slow and cautious, determined to get to his bedroom.

Every step filled him with trepidation. Corners had never been so terrifying, each one filling him with a moment of hesitation. Was this the right way? he wondered every time without fail. And then, What if someone's around the corner? The idea of seeing Shigaraki or any of the other villains made his heart coil with terror and anxiety, his breath catching and muscles locking up for a split second as his throat seized with panic each time.

He was halfway there—hopefully halfway there—when the shadows shifted beside him and he jumped, barely smothering a yelp. Seiko appeared out of no where like always, face blank and expressionless as she looked at him. A chill ran down his spine as he froze under that eerie and blank inverted stare, the visceral sense of wrong flooding his every sense, every thought, more powerfully than ever before.

"Do you recognize me, Midoriya Izuku?" she asked, monotonous as ever. Izuku stared at her dumbly, wondering why she would be asking.

"S-Seiko...?" he whispered, feeling tears prick his eyes. Her head tilted slightly at his response, and it was so smooth and automatic.

"So you do recognize me, then?" she questioned idly, and he shuddered.

"H-how could I forget you?" he muttered miserably. How could anyone forget someone as off and unsettling as Seiko?

She didn't respond right away, just stared at him silently for a moment and making his skin prickle with unease. Those eyes were so empty, so impossible to read. He'd never seen eyes like that, these felt like voids. Did they even reflect any light? The blackness of her sclera was unbroken, and the white of her irises wouldn't really obviously reflect light... maybe?

"Follow me." He startled at her command, but she had already turned and begun walking, leaving Izuku to scramble after her. He felt a rush of déjà vu, reminded of that horrible first day here when he woke up and nothing made sense, when everything was unfamiliar and wrong. Of those early days where each morning brought new anxieties about what else could go wrong, what new horrific truth he might uncover about this world and feeling more out of place than he ever realized possible.

But this time, the maze-like halls were still somewhat familiar. The turns they made felt just slightly more ingrained than before, not nearly as confusing and daunting as that first day. He could easily recognize that Seiko was leading him to his bedroom, could even tell that she took a slightly different route than he usually did. Probably to avoid someone, he thought distantly, just a little hysteric at the thought.

When they finally reached the familiar hallway and walked through the most familiar door of all, he crossed the room and collapsed right onto the bed. He could hear the door quietly close, probably by Seiko who'd probably also followed him inside, but he didn't care. He just buried his face in the blankets for a few seconds, deeply inhaling the scent before finally lifting his face.

The posters felt so familiar, but also not. Several of the heroes staring back at him were completely unfamiliar, only having vague and hazy recollections of their entries in this world's notebooks. Even some of the heroes he did know, some of the posters felt wrong, little details about their costumes just off from what he knew.

He shivered and tore his gaze away, focusing on the ones he did recognize, the posters familiar from his own world. The limited edition "Put Your Hands Up! Radio" poster his mom bought on a whim before Izuku even listened to the show because she knew he'd become a fan. The fan-made one of Yoroi Musha stylized to look like posters for old samurai films his dad found in America. The Storm Chasers one identical to the one from their living room just without the autographs. The Gang Orca one his mom picked up from the aquarium when he gave a lecture on marine life.

It felt like they anchored him in a world that was suddenly so uncertain and unsteady, grounding him back in reality just a little bit. Each one had a memory and story behind how he got them. A specific history that he felt like still existed and applied to this world even when so much else had changed.

Izuku inhaled shakily as he pulled his knees to his chest, trying to calm himself. Seiko stood in the corner of his vision like a dark shadow, her presence making his skin crawl, yet at the same time filling him with questionable relief that he wasn't alone right now. He might not know her, and she might set off his instincts in the worst way possible, but the idea of being entirely alone right now filled him with just as much dread.

"What's wrong with me?" he whispered.

"I don't know," Seiko responded, monotonous as ever. "You should rest for now." Izuku just nodded slowly, having no better ideas. It was still early, barely even seven thirty, but he just felt so off and disoriented. Leaving his room for any reason right now filled him with a surge of terror and anxiety for some reason, so at the very least he'd probably stay here for the rest of the night anyway.

He curled up on the bed as Seiko vanished into the shadows, trying to calm his erratic thoughts. What was wrong with him?

No question for next time, except for the one Izuku asked.