To the pedestrians far below, he might've appeared as a comet. Maybe he was a burning meteor rending its way through clouds, a red tear in the blue sky; but he wasn't a meteor, nor a spatial anomaly. He was Endeavor, and there was an emergency. He'd left Endeavor Tower before he'd even received the official announcement from the Hero Network, the explosion already having alerted him. He doubted there was a single person in Tokyo who hadn't heard it.
His sidekicks were racing alongside him, though more lawfully on the whims of the highway. His agency's niche made bombsquad work a priority. The official request for aid was an All-Hands-On-Deck order, so at least fifteen of his subordinates were on their way. The only people not dropping everything to help were his secretaries, who were busying themselves with getting ahold of his part-timers.
As for himself, flying was the fastest, though most draining way to travel. Enji couldn't afford conserving himself, however; in these situations, speed was key. Every second could be a person's life, every minute could be everyone's. He had a job to do; even if he wasn't the most equipped for the job, it was his duty, his expectation to put in more work than anyone else.
That notion fueled him, pushing him to redouble his efforts. His eyes narrowed into slits as the wind pressure increased alongside his speed, blurring his vision. He could only pray he wouldn't hit a bird at this altitude.
The bridge came into his view easier than it should've, given the strain on his eyes. Perhaps on any other day, he might not have even registered it. Today, however, he couldn't even take his eyes off it; the fire that had burned away its infrastructure had stolen its mundanity alongside it. Instead of the beautiful view of the river's archway, towering plumes of smoke and a red, angry glow consuming everything below met his eyes.
It was a mess, to be certain. The explosions had flipped cars, spun them out, and forced drivers to abandon the rest bumper to bumper. Chunks of concrete were falling away from the floor, leaving gaping holes a bus could fit through. Even one the towers, which held the majority of the suspension, had an unnerving tilt. Almost everywhere he could see, fires raged.
Where the flames weren't burning, there were huddles of people. Each group was disproportionate to the last, and while many weren't in danger, the gluttony of the flames meant their safety wasn't long-living. There was no group in more danger than another, nor a solid concentration of people he could give special attention to.
Landing, Endeavor set himself down on top of one of the non-damaged towers. Screams from far below scarcely reached his ears, but what did make it through made his stomach crawl; terrified pleadings for help, agonizing screams, the whole nine yards. What stuck with him, however, wasn't the screams. It was when someone screaming stopped. Endeavor grit his teeth, forcing himself not to move. The situation was too delicate to just go in without care, and he couldn't just play taxi with everyone. Not only would his flames burn them, he'd run out of time and energy long before everyone made it.
His eyes cut a path across the bridge, seeking the best possible pathing. On one side, an eighteen-wheeler lay overturned and blocked the entire road, while on the other side a massive blaze was going strong, trapping the survivors in the center. The gap between the road and the water was too high, lethal for most people.
Endeavor wasn't All Might; he couldn't carry every person on his back, nor could he punch hard enough to extinguish flames. Still, he was the Number One Hero, the best of Japan, and it was up to him to see these people through this nightmare.
He stepped off the tower's peak, allowing himself a brief free fall towards the road before shifting gears. Enji pushed himself towards the nearest group of survivors, making sure his exhaust didn't bother them.
He landed into a kneel, allowing his legs to absorb the weight of his fall. Standing to his full height, he hurried over to this small group.
"Don't worry, the heroes have arrived." He said, trying to offer some sort of comfort. The words felt strangled in his throat, awkward and unusual. Endeavor had never been a rescue hero; how things changed when your number ticked up.
Endeavor stood before two women and a baby. One was unconscious and drenched in blood, but breathing. She was missing a leg, but the wound was clean, like it'd happened a long time ago. What puzzled him was the red slice of flesh clutched in her hands. Clean on one side and bloody on the other, it appeared ground to mush.
The other crouched above her, one hand holding her child and the other gingerly checking the girl's vitals.
"Thank god—I didn't know what to do! She's too heavy to move, and she won't stir!" The first woman said, stepping away from the girl for Endeavor to check her. First thing was her pulse, which was firing regularly, then her breathing, which came out smooth. She didn't seem to be in any danger. He patted her on the cheek, trying to wake her. If she was awake, it would be much easier to move her, even if she couldn't walk.
The girl shifted a little, but didn't regain consciousness. Enji grit his teeth; he couldn't waste his time here much longer. People could be dying by the second, and this girl wasn't in any more danger than anyone else. Standing back up, he looked to the mother.
"Is she yours?" He asked. Protocol, but perhaps a bit awkward, given the mother's apparent age. The injured girl seemed far too old to have come from her. She shook her head.
"No, I was asked to watch over her while he helped the rest." She admitted, rocking her baby as it began to whine. Endeavor wavered, confused.
"He? Who asked you to do this? I'm the first hero to arrive."
"Oh, it was this little green haired kid. He saved me and little Sai from falling off the ledge. Well, in my case, he saved me afterwards." She said, a smile in her voice. Sai whined a little louder, bubbling into a half-cry. Endeavor felt something flicker in his stomach—disbelief, maybe, at his gut reaction. There was only one little green haired boy he knew who would risk vigilantism. Perhaps it was because of Sai's whining or the sudden jolt of fear in his stomach, but a small hand on his ankle caught him off guard.
"Izuku?" The younger girl mumbled, staring at him unseeing. Fuck. He reached down, shaking her shoulder.
"Midoriya!? You know Izuku Midoriya?" He asked, whisper-shouting at her. The fog in her eyes lifted a bit, recognition growing in her eyes.
"You're… Shoto's dad." She said. Not Endeavor, the best of Japan. Not the Number One Hero. Shoto's father. The rock in his stomach was bulging, morphing into a boulder that was beginning to weigh him down.
"Yes," He said, ignoring the way the other woman's eyes widened to the side. "You know my son?"
"Yeah, he… sucks at racing games." She whispered, before her eyes finally cleared. Her gaze flicked around, wild and uncertain. "W-w-w-where is he? Is he okay, is he alive? Where's Izuku? Where—" Her alertness flickered, before deteriorating again. She leaned back against the stone pillar she'd been resting at, falling asleep once more.
"Umm, he went that way." The older woman said, pointing towards the eighteenwheeler's side of the bridge. Endeavor shot to his feet, already turning in her directed path. He didn't want to leave these people high and dry, but he couldn't evacuate them. His only solace was that they were already seemingly in the most secure place on the bridge.
"Stay. Here. I'll go make sure he's okay." He said, before pushing off with a microburst of Hellfire.
[x]
"Pull! Keep pulling!" Izuku screamed, both to the six people behind him, as well as his own quirk. After saving that mother, he'd rushed to those cars on the brink. Along the way, he picked up and helped whoever he could along the way. Now, Blackwhip, wild and unruly as it seemed to be, had wrapped around both the car and his charges. Alone, he didn't have the strength to haul the car back onto the bridge, but with six helpers, they just barely had the manpower to edge it to safety.
"Hurry, brat! The other car could fall at any moment." Five shouted in his ears. Danger Sense flickered to life, showing him that the other car was getting close to the breaking point. Gritting his teeth, he pushed more Blackwhip out of him, the dark energy whips bursting out of his shoulders to wrap around more of the car.
"Heave! One more pull! One, two, GO!" He screamed, throwing all his body weight backwards alongside all six of his helpers. In one fantastic motion, the car's undercarriage screeched against the concrete, sparks flying. All seven gave their everything until the front wheels caught the ground, allowing the rest to roll back onto the bridge. Izuku collapsed, cutting One for All off as his six helpers rushed forward, easing the passengers out of the car.
The driver had a glorious handlebar mustache and a thick stomach that belied what Izuku suspected to be a great strength. Still, as soon as the macho man was over secure ground, he stumbled to his knees, kissing it. Two other passengers, a mother and daughter with darker skin, slipped out arm in arm. He couldn't be sure of their ages, but with the way the mother pulled the daughter into her chest to ease her tears, she wasn't very old.
He couldn't bring himself to stand back up immediately, instead focusing on staying conscious. Blackwhip rippled under his skin like how Danger Sense did within his brain, causing fogginess and jitters when they were loose and uncontrolled. Danger Sense had worse side effects, but was easier to control. Perhaps there was more to the power, but on the most basic level, it was just about regulating its use. Blackwhip, on the other hand, reacted in subtle ways. It was rebellious, and while it didn't quite debilitate him, it exhausted him while using it. It also left his skin bruised and numb where it burst from, which was beginning to wear on him more and more as he called forth the power.
Izuku groaned as he tried to get to his feet, his knees shaking and shoulders pins-and-needled. He pushed Danger Sense up for a moment, trying to find out the state of the other car. A spike of panic hit him when the full limpression of their danger registered.
"Kid!" Five said as Izuku began running.
"Guys, hurry!" Izuku screamed as he jumped over a flipped car. He tripped as he fell, landing in a half-roll that killed his momentum and sent scalding pain over his palms where they scraped against the concrete. His recovery was too slow, his body weakened and exhausted.
He limped around one last car, his mind focused on the last location he'd felt the car was at. Izuku froze. Muffled screams stabbed his ears as all he saw of the car was the brake lights before they disappeared over the edge.
"Guys!" "Kid!" He and Five yelled in unison as Izuku lurched forward, digging deeper into One for All than he'd done all day, more so than he'd ever tried before.
Blackwhip exploded out of his outstretched hand, slipping over the edge and snagging the back bumper. Izuku didn't account for the momentum, though, and was consequently slammed into the concrete road himself. His arm was ripped out of its socket immediately, a handful of ribs cracking right after. His jaw exploded into pain where his head bounced against the ground. He didn't stop—he couldn't. To stop would be sentencing these poor people to death.
He screamed as he let more Blackwhip out of his back, the dark whips sprouting around him like eldritch flowers. They rooted themselves against everything they could find. Supports, upturned cars, even the cracks in the road made for leverage that the whips exploited, holding Izuku's battered form down like a fulcrum. Even with all his effort, the weight still dragged Izuku against the concrete further and further to the edge, the car's fall simply slowed rather than stopped.
Incredible pain wracked Izuku's form as broken bones, quirk exhaustion, and a growing number of scabs worked together against him. Izuku's vision blacked out for a moment, flickering back to life like a battered light bulb. He was slipping closer and closer to the edge, seconds away from falling. Tears welled up in his eyes—at fucking this up, at the pain, at his imminent death.
Then the pressure eased, the strain on Blackwhip relaxing. Something thick and warm filled his ears, muffling all the sounds around him except for the roaring flames.
Izuku's vision flickered between darkness and vivid, burning brightness as the fallen car rocketed up past the edge, carried by the blazing form of Endeavor. The effort had stolen the strength necessary to smile, his soul too tired to celebrate, but deep in his chest, far from the broken ribs, he felt warm.
[x]
When she awoke, she did so in silence. She didn't jerk awake or call out in surprise, though her spirit was a tsunami of fear and anxiety. Though worry and stress filled her up like a water balloon, none of it showed on her face. She was stone as she pressed the call button on the side of her hospital bed. When the nurses arrived, asking a million and more questions, she didn't let their stress get to her. Setsuna simply asked a question.
"Is Izuku alright?"
They hadn't been able to answer her, at first. None of them were familiar with the boy, and this was not the only place ambulances had brought the injurd. She was in a clinic for minor injuries, while the more unstable victims were in more serious wings or other hospitals entirely. It was an honest mistake, she thought. She lost a leg, though her powers left that vague and not obvious at the first or even second glance.
In time, however, the nurses answered her with a hesitant affirmative. He was in the more urgent side of the facility, though he was no longer in critical condition. That had been a hard pill to swallow. How was he injured? What had happened after she'd blacked out? Did she fail him? The nurses were tight-lipped about the nature of his injuries, only spoon-feeding her the bare minimum of what she asked.
Her mom was the first to visit her; dad was too unwell to make the trip, though he video-called soon after her arrival. Alongside her person, she also brought a new set of clothes, given her old ones were either destroyed or covered in blood. She seemed to fret over Setsuna's leg more than she did herself, worried beyond anything at her health. Setsuna, on the other hand, felt a sort of detachment from the missing limb. It didn't feel quite real, nor very consequential.
Already, she could feel her quirk beginning to work on it, a rather itchy process that drained her of energy and was starting to drive her up the wall. She'd lost fingers before, but those took mere days to heal. She could ignore how itchy it got with an ice pack and some lotion. This was on much too large a scale to ignore, too deep in her tissue to fix with any ointments.
Aesthetically, it wasn't very disconcerting either. She'd gone without limbs before; it wasn't like this was very different. Another factor could've been hanging out with Izuku. The boy almost normalized his lopsidedness, making it comfortable. Even if she didn't feel it regrowing every waking moment, she wouldn't feel broken or unwhole. Izuku was certainly whole, in his own way, so why shouldn't she be?
Still, she let her mother fret over her like a damsel. She couldn't bring herself to talk much. With all the thoughts swirling around her noggin, it was surprising how hard coherency was. Her mom fetched her snacks, helped her to the bathroom, and even called the nurses in her stead. Setsuna thought it made her mom feel useful, so she just let it all happen.
A specialist came in to observe her quirk, to make certain she'd recover as well as possible. He was a larger man, with a thick white mustache, but he was cordial and gentle. Though he had to touch her growing leg, he did so in a way that didn't feel invasive or uncomfortable, and for that she was thankful. Her mother, on the other hand, was stiff as steel whenever he got close, like this strange doctor would want to test her regeneration more than was appropriate. She supposed her fear was valid; it wouldn't be the first time a hospital abused a patient for their power.
Two days passed by before the hospital discharged her, though her leg had only regrown to the top of her calf, barely an inch in four days overall. They provided her with a wheelchair and some dietary recommendations in order to speed up her natural regeneration, but otherwise left her untouched bar asking to keep her wounded nub. She, in all honesty, didn't want it and would rather never think of it again, so she consented despite her mother's disapproval.
She spoke little in these times, her thoughts often too loud and emotions she'd rather not grasp too tight around her throat. Still, she was able to whistle a tune as her mother wheeled her out of the hospital room for the last time. The melody followed them across the facility into the recovery rooms from urgent care. It was there that her silent anxieties abated, and the guilt arose.
Izuku was asleep when she found him, Inko hovering above him like a mama bear protecting her cub. Flowers and well wishes filled his bedside table, most coming from people Setsuna'd never met. Her mom and Inko chatted, terse but full of a silent relief that even Setsuna, who endeavored to ignore them, could hear. She spent her time watching over Izuku, raking her eyes over him for injuries she could've saved him from.
Thick white bandages covered his arm, as well as his forehead, jaw, and chest. An IV was drip feeding him, though it was less dramatic than she was expecting. Bar the IV, the only aparatie attached to him was an obsolete oxygen mask that didn't seem turned on. Though none of his injuries appeared to have come from the same slab of concrete that gored her, she couldn't rule it out. He looked like a bus had run him over, or another concrete slab had come hurdling his way.
She couldn't wrap her brain around it; any of it. What had he done after she saved him, why'd she vaguely remember Endeavor, and how did he hurt himself? A thousand similar questions slipped on and off her tongue, her mouth never quite able to form the perfect words. Then, her mother excused herself for the bathroom, leaving her alone with his mother. It was like some mental barrier had broken, the dam released. Perhaps her mom's intensity had embarrassed her, or her vigilance had been too invasive, but for the brief window she left, her throat loosened.
"What… what happened? I just… I feel so lost." She said, talking more to the sleeping Izuku than anyone else, but only Inko replied.
"He went overboard, sweety. You know our boy. He'd take the stairs in a burning building if it meant everyone else got to ride the elevator." Inko murmured, placing a soft hand on her shoulder. Setsuna smiled, but it wasn't with teeth.
"I like to think he'd be more liable to just jump out the window." She said, making Inko giggle.
"He woke up for a little bit, y'know. Yesterday. Almost everything he said was thank you, over and over. I haven't a clue who he was talking to. Do you?" She asked, turning to her. Setsuna didn't return the gaze, instead choosing to keep vigilance over her friend.
She thought about him for a while, counting how much he'd done for her. Saving her and her mom, for one. Spending so much time helping her with her stupid training, for another. Confronting her on the bridge, breaking his silence. The conversation still weighed heavily on her mind, even now. Setsuna fiddled with her blonde hair as it hung over her downturned face, watching how it reflected artificially in the sterile light.
Seeing it, not for the first time, made her want to throw up a little bit. Much of the early confidence from the new look had waned over time, but she'd never been brave enough to switch back. It felt like abandoning something halfway through, like she'd failed to complete something. She looked over to Izuku's head, her eyes tracing out how his hair framed his face.
He looked cute with the dark green hair, and tried to imagine him as blonde. It just… didn't work. His freckles clashed with the bright curls, his eyes the wrong shade. It didn't feel right for him to be anything other than himself. Izuku was very clear, on that bridge. Green was good. Her stomach felt like a melting pot of nostalgia and affection, with rock-hard anxieties and fears floating along with the motion of the spoon that stirred it.
"I couldn't be sure." She replied, after a time. It didn't feel right to claim his thanks as her own, like she hadn't earned it. "It feels more like he should've said "you're welcome," don't you think?"
Inko didn't reply immediately, though her hand shifted from rubbing her shoulder to playing with the tips of her hair. She hummed a small tune, something that she couldn't recognize but still had a knee-jerk reaction to, like Deja Vu. She wordlessly took a hairband from Setsuna's wrist and began tying up her hair, Setsuna doing nothing to stop her. The normal disgust that came with other people touching her hair never rose when Inko touched her, never bared its teeth. Even her own mother was liable to feel her wrath when she played with it, but not Inko. She couldn't find it within herself to snap at the woman, not when her son was comatose below them.
"It wasn't the only thing he said, young lady. He may have been delirious under all those pain meds, but after all the "thank yous" came and went, he told me about what you did. "Momma, she saved me, oh, but she got hurt, oh, oh, oh. Setsuna pushed me. Thank you." Inko finished, both with her retelling and with Setsuna's hair. It was up in a high bun, pulling her bangs out of her face but leaving curtains along with a little length in the back. It was like a replica of the woman's own favored style, just blonde.
Setsuna's cheeks burned like a thousand suns, and with her hair out of her face, she couldn't hide it. Inko giggled again, before pressing her lips against her temple.
"You saved my son. Maybe it doesn't mean much to you, with your ability, but to us it means the world." She said, gesturing down to her malformed calf. "There are no more words I can say to that. You're welcome in my home whenever you want, and anything we have is yours."
[x]
The first thing she did upon arriving home after the whole ordeal was trip. In her haste to hug her father, she lunged forward, only to end up forgetting about her missing appendage. She toppled to the floor before him, squeezing her eyes shut while bracing for an impact that never came. Opening them revealed a soft green glow, holding her aloft. The action alone almost made her cry; he shouldn't have been using his quirk at all, let alone carrying her with it.
Helped up by her mother, she gripped him by the waist and held him close for a long, long time. A lot went unsaid between them, though in some ways, her father had a more telepathic quirk than telekinetic.
"It's alright, sweetpea, I'm here…" He whispered, clutching her as close as she did him. They'd almost lost each other, and their last interaction had barely been one at all. Despite his obvious weariness, he helped her over to the living room couch, where they sat together and watched TV. Her mom made them a quick dinner, but she filled it with love and left them all feeling sleepy.
Setsuna sat between the two, snuggled up to her father like her mother did her. A long time passed in silence, only broken by an occasional laugh or sigh in reaction to whatever movie coasted along their channel surfing. Only when her mother's soft snores reached her ears did she speak up to her father.
""M sorry." She whispered. Her father hadn't been sleeping quite yet, but he'd been close. He startled, before pulling her deeper into his flank with his warm, thin arm.
"For what, baby?" He asked. Setsuna wasn't sure.
"For being evasive, I guess. Blowing you guys off when you were worried."
"Well, you're alright, so that's all that matters."
"I guess." She replied, before wavering, uncertain. She couldn't promise anything, but she felt different. Like things could change. "I'm still gonna be a hero, dad. I just… maybe I'll slow down a bit, take things easier."
Her father hummed, lowering the volume of the TV with his free hand.
"That's good. You're a good person as is, and working yourself to the bone wouldn't have proven anything, in the end. That leg is all the evidence you need that you're a hero, after all."
She tucked her face into his side, enjoying his warmth. His sharp ribs may have made for a poor pillow, but his scent calmed her, his heat relaxed her. It felt like, within no time at all, she was on the sandman's doorstep.
Her last thought was on a pair of scissors, and what Izuku's reaction might be to their consequences.
[x]
AN: So, I started reading Circe again, but I also started reading (rereading) Black Clover and (starting) Hajime no Ippo. Lets not forget I started watching Vinland Saga again, too. On a real note it's a shame about Black Clover's opening episodes. It'd be really popular if the first three episodes were less cringe tbh. I like to think that the Elf Reincarnation Arc was one of the best new arcs to date. It definitely holds up with stuff like Shibuya or the first War Arc in MHA. It's a shame about the total desolation that is their fanfiction though. Shit is emptier than a taxidermied camel. I've been thinking about actually doing it, to be honest. The Eragon Fic can wait. It honestly wouldn't be that hard to make fandom best seller with such little competition. Plus, I could actually, y'know, plan ahead for it. You'd actually get to see my real skillset put to use. Then again, I might have to do some MHA rereads for the upcoming storylines. Its a real pain in the ass.
Review! Last chapter was a really good success. I guess when I hype up a big chapter, I should expect a big reaction. Thanks a bunch. Next really juicy one is probably going to be 24. Everything in the in-between will be aftermath stuff. I should probably start writing it before I praise it, though...