He caught her off guard. She was too distracted—too distraught—to react in time. Izuku utilized the moment to the fullest, and ignored the sting. Voidlimb clapped her shoulder, and blew her away like paper in a rainstorm.
She scattered into pieces to soften the blow, but it wasn't necessary. He'd felt the pain he was about to deal her, and adjusted accordingly. Just because he wasn't worth her time, he wasn't going to go apeshit. He kept himself reserved and methodical. Setsuna, however, didn't pretend to be so modest.
With the whistling scream of a thousand tiny eagles, Setsuna collapsed upon him. Her chest bounced off a thick veil of smoke. Her elbows and wrists missed him entirely, and he managed to swat her bulkier thighs and shoulder blades with Voidlimb. It was a vicious assault by itself, but he endured until her skull cannonballed into his sternum. Even with nearly two inches of compacted smoke, it still forced the air from his lungs.
He retained control however, not allowing her to distract him a second time. As he flew backwards, his armor contracted behind him and burst, reversing his momentum and throwing him back into the fight. It chased behind him just as fast, but for a brief moment, he was vulnerable—and that was when she struck again.
A lightning-fast punch nearly shattered his hasty guard, but it was just a feint. Setsuna's legs, connected at the pelvis and formed to her heels, saddled his shoulder and wrapped around his neck. The grapple was entirely different from her chokehold—the power in her legs was incomparable. Their momentum took him down and pinned him—but he'd managed to cram his arm between her knees and his Adam's apple.
He felt another part of her glomp against him, pinning him further.
"What the hell do you mean?" Her voice asked, appearing from somewhere he couldn't see. "How could you say that about us?"
Izuku grit his teeth and focused. His smoke caught up, and with a thought, it crashed in full against Setsuna's hips. It just barely registered on her pain scale, and in the millisecond her thighs loosened, he slipped out and ran.
He was already half-way across the Arena when his smoke re-wrapped around him. With it, he doubled-back with twice the speed. Hurtling over a charging ribcage, Voidlimb reached out and snatched a suspiciously oval piece. Though he couldn't "feel" it, he knew it was heavy. Looking into his palm, he reaffirmed what he already figured.
"Things have to be this way. We can't be together," he forced out, barely meeting Setsuna's furious glare. From Voidlimb's palm, she opened her mouth—and he pitched her face back into the sky, cutting her off. He couldn't afford to linger on her eyes or hear her siren's song.
Regardless, her expression burned into his eyelids. When he'd resolved himself to reject her, she'd been so surprised she froze up. Now her focus was back in full, and with something else tacked on. Something familiar. Scary.
Determination.
His mind churned twice as fast as his legs, and they were turning faster than ever. With his smoke, while he was no Iida, he was in the same echelon. With a hummingbird heart and his feet hitting the ground twice for every beat, he was barely comprehending where he was going. He'd never moved this fast before, not while sprinting.
It was necessary, however, to avoid Setsuna's gatling-gun of attacks. Splitting her longer bones along their length, she launched them from above like kinetic orbital rods. A quarter of her femur crashed into the ground and shattered the tile—but did not, itself, shatter. Then the second and third quarter came, both cracking the tiles beside him. It was reckless and terrifying—a theory he himself had come up with, nine months ago. A femur was far less delicate than hand bones, and with her healing factor, she wouldn't have to worry about holding back. It was like tapping into a touch of hysterical strength, without the strain.
But, he thought, as her tibia scraped some skin from his thigh, it still cost her something. Not only was it impractical for street-level thugs—it would kill them—there was one major reason he forbid her trying it:
It would hurt like nothing else.
With every force, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Using her leg bones meant that she could dramatically elevate her capacity for enduring that reactionary damage, but it did nothing to relieve the elevated pain. With Danger Sense latched onto her, he felt every blow, even when they missed.
Especially when they missed. Concrete was less forgiving than flesh.
The world was a blur as he circled across the arena, dodging and avoiding her kinetic bone-strikes, but as he ran, a single piece of her remained clear. Her head, shoulders up, didn't move, and though her bones kept crunching tiles and cracking against concrete, her face didn't betray an ounce of pain. Instead, through her relentlessness, she questioned him.
"What even makes a partnership last, Mi-do-ri-ya?" Setsuna called out, enunciating every syllable. He almost slipped on a shattered section of rubble. "Do you think it just happens? That some magical force binds them together?"
Half her femur fused together, and the impact between his feet knocked up a cloud of pulverized concrete.
"Well there isn't!" She continued. More bones, less weight and more velocity, hailed the air around him like machine gun fire. If a porcupine could launch his spines with nuclear force, it wouldn't be half as dangerous. "It's made of effort! Bound by dedication! We've been together for years, we've always resolved our fights, and we never lapsed! We were dedicated! You, I-zu-ku, were dedicated—until we got into this damn school! I know I didn't change, so what happened to you?"
He was so focused on avoiding the bones, he wasn't prepared when a normal hand snatched her ankle. With his speed, his slip was almost lethal. A hasty slab of smoke caught him as he fell, and his momentum slid him across the arena unharmed—until two fully-formed tibias shattered the terrain. With no flat ground to slide on, Izuku willed the slab's nose to pull back, and he was airborne. Gripping the smoke-board with one hand, he air-surfed out of bounds and turned, eyes set on Setsuna's shoulders.
She didn't stop talking as he raced towards her. She didn't even blink.
"I'm still dedicated! I'm still fighting for you, for us!" Setsuna said. When Izuku got fast enough, he leapt off the smoke-board and morphed it back into armor. Soaring across their gap, Izuku only had eyes for one thing—Setsuna's skull. Without her heart nearby, it was the simplest win condition. If he wanted to end this quickly— "And I know you still care, because you wouldn't have let me kiss you if you didn't!"
Izuku cringed, faltering mid-air, and that was enough. The flat side of Setsuna's thigh smashed into his unprotected left ribs, and he careened out of the sky seeing stars. He only came to because he felt Blackwhip twitch in his blackout. Reaffirming his control, he slowed his fall with a puff of smoke. His knees still complained about the impact, but they were an afterthought behind his thigh and ribs.
Looking up, he realized he was in the eye of the storm. Most of Setsuna swirled around him, holding their attacks as the brain watched him recover. He still wasn't using Danger Sense on himself, but since he could feel the damage Setsuna took with her own attacks, he could still feel where every threatening limb was. He used this chance to breathe and clog his ears. If he could just banish her from his mind, he might be able to focus.
Please, he begged in silence. Just let it end. Let it all just go away. He took a breath, and thought of stupid things. Of the color orange. Of big red sneakers. Of mislabeled clothes. Of—
Nothing he did could stop her piercing voice.
"Why struggle? If we both care, why am I the only one fighting for us?" Setsuna asked, her voice a poison in his ears. Blood filled his mouth as he clenched his jaw. "After all we've gone through, after all my work, you're just throwing me away? I know you don't believe what you said. You just can't."
The words roared from his lips before he could think.
"Of course I do!" He spat, hoarse and stiff. Immediately, the regret paralyzed him. The lie tasted like sewage.
"Bullshit! The only thing stopping "us" is you, and I can't even tell why!" Setsuna shot back, not missing a beat—but failing to hide a sliver of hurt. "What could possibly convince you that we'd be worse off together?"
The swirling mass of her pieces loomed closer. Izuku could practically feel her eagerness to strike him, to pin him down and interrogate him. He bit his tongue.
Izuku didn't trust his voice and didn't answer. Instead, he dove to the ground as three dozen pieces tried surprising him. They dogpiled all on one spot, and Izuku barely escaped. Sprinting, Izuku focused on evasion as Setsuna reignited her fury. Bones and limbs crashed all around him, and he could barely stay alive, let alone ignore her.
"Is it fear, Izu? Are you scared of me? Of us?" Setsuna begged, her voice shifting from hard to desperate as femur nearly punctured his shoulder. "Is there something else? Someone else? Who is haunting you? Hurting you?"
There was a gash inside his cheek. He didn't know when it got there or who made it, but it stung like hell and tasted like copper.
The hellfire slowed marginally with each question, until Izuku could hardly sense her intention to attack at all. Bones still came every few seconds, but they felt obligatory—as if she owed something to the audience. He still struggled to avoid them. Izuku felt sluggish, like anchors hugged his ankles.
An oppressive silence dragged on, filling the space Izuku's answers should've—yet his lips remained sealed.
Of course he wanted to tell her, but it was both too late and too early at once. If he really deserved her, he should've told her years ago, before they grew attached. Regardless, he was still years out from mastery. He could hardly convince One for All he was worthy to reveal the secret. Hell, he could hardly convince himself.
A surprising swell of pressure in his throat caught him off guard. It distracted him enough that a femur nearly hit him, but even when he dodged, he felt like a truck ran over him. He couldn't describe the sensation—it was firmly physical, but also an itch. Izuku clawed at his throat, but it only worsened the foreign pain. Setsuna hardly noticed.
"...Nothing?" She asked, her voice barely audible as he struggled. It didn't stop his breathing, only impeded it. Each inhale became a spoonful, and as Setsuna continued, he didn't have enough air to use even if he wanted. "You can't even be a little honest with me? Do you have nothing to say at all, or nothing you're willing to? I've always known you were hiding something… but I always thought that in the end, you'd choose telling me over… losing me…"
Setsuna paused again, her assault slowing even further. Some of her chest joined her shoulders, filling out her torso and some of her arms. What she said next was hardly a whisper. It should've been lost under the Stadium's excitement, under her own breathing, or in the breeze of the warm sunny day. But, it was not. Izuku heard it clear as day.
"I just… I need to know I'm not crazy. If you refuse me, ignore me, I don't care—I just need to know…"
The pain in Izuku's throat shifted up, and he wanted to die.
"Do you love me?"
His throat was clogged.
That easy breeze became helicopter blades in his ears. It became a bullet train, a rocket launch, a crashing waterfall. His ears filled with wasps and angry bees. His head whirred and roared. Every second, every millisecond—every nanosecond, the buzzing ticked up in pitch, until it all coalesced into an undignified whine.
Yet, between Izuku and Setsuna, there was nothing but silence. No tinnitus could hide that—and no strong front could mask the red ring forming around Setsuna's eyes.
"My god…" Setsuna whispered, sniffing back something wet. "You can't even…?"
Izuku's mouth fell open. More than her words, he heard her thoughts. He felt her feelings as a physical thing, as the wind on his face and sun on his shoulders, as the goosebumps up his neck and the shiver down his spine. Danger Sense became an afterthought as he felt what truly hurt her.
"...Who even are you? Why… why are you such a coward?"
The pain was a bubble, Izuku realized, as it popped in his throat. An idea. A thought given unlikely life. It was an admission Izuku so firmly believed impossible that he hadn't recognized the feeling of words on his lips.
"Because of One for All!" He cried, with hardly any emphasis—but the meaning cut through to Setsuna as Moses through the Red Sea. Something more than him procured and squeezed out the words. Something beyond comprehension.
Something terrifying.
Setsuna froze, and not just her partially formed silhouette, but every piece around them. It was picture perfect stillness. She remained so precisely still that Izuku almost mistook reality for a photo. The only fidget, the only inconsistency, was a little blob of flesh hovering just out of reach. Izuku blinked.
He could have reached her heart on his tip-toes. In this immobile world, the only thing that moved was her beating heart. Quietly, as all higher function shut down in his brain, he marveled at its proximity.
"...One for all," Setsuna repeated, tasting the words on her lips.
Izuku blinked. One For All? How'd she know that name?
It registered in the back of his mind that he'd said it outloud. One for All. Outloud.
Hm.
The back of his throat burned. Bile. Izuku blinked. He was going to vomit.
[x]
"...One for all," Setsuna repeated, tasting the words on her lips. An odd little phrase. It sucked back into childhood, where her father might've once read to her a story about three musketeers or some such. It was fuzzy.
She must not have liked the story.
For a reason she didn't know, Izuku's eyes lost their focus, and he hacked into his elbow. She hardly cared to notice his wet, ugly cough. Her mind was far more occupied with damage control.
Her world froze for a second. Setsuna, going in, knew it'd be an uphill, emotional battle, but despite two months of hard training, she hadn't realized how utterly devastated she'd be in the moment. She knew it'd be tough. She knew she wasn't ready. She knew that any tickle of stress, in her state, might coerce her into an emotional kamikaze…
…But it should've been a simple question. Their common ground. The one thing she knew he could answer with ease, regardless of what burdens he carried. "Do you love me?" couldn't have been an easier layup for her. If he'd have asked her, Setsuna wouldn't have needed a second. Izuku took twenty, and still failed to answer.
She knew her heart wasn't broken, as she could see it beating hardily beside him. But it sure felt like it. With a twitch, she willed the heart out of his reach and into her chest where it belonged, safe and guarded. Likewise, one by one, each piece retreated from their advantageous positions to join the main body.
A deep breath reminded her of their position. Drones circled them, recording their fight. Beyond them, the Stadium held a trillion spectators. People were watching. People might see her cry. People might see that she was hurting. She couldn't have that.
Izuku might see her in pain—
Bah, her inner Setsuna objected. Inner-Setsuna knew well and good that Izuku probably felt her pain more precisely than his own. No need to hide from him.
It might've been a convincing argument, had Izuku not just rejected her so thoroughly that a shower couldn't wash off her embarrassment. Her feelings began edging out her instincts—but the battle wasn't done. Her instincts had reinforcements—the logical cavalry.
Look at him, the inner-inner Setsuna whispered. She did not. Look at him! Inner-Inner-Setsuna shouted. She looked, to her dismay.
"He seems constipated," Outer-Setsuna said to herself. Izuku's entire body coiled like a spring, matching the scrunched expression marring his usually cute face.
Worse, Inner-Inner-Setsuna argued. He looks drained—exhausted. He just pulled off something impossible—something probably harder than admitting his feelings.
Her emotional side bared its teeth. Admitting he cared shouldn't have been, in a million years, compared to the impossible. Her logical side stroked her emotional side like one might a Siberian Tiger—lightly, soothingly, and with a thirty-foot pole.
I know it hurts, her logical side whispered. But he just admitted something. A puzzle piece. We're smart. We're logical. We can figure it and him out at once—all we have to do is solve him. While me and Inner-Inner-Set work it out, cut loose. Be honest. If a physical offense wasn't enough, then attack him emotionally. Leave no stone unturned.
The Siberian Tiger scowled. It was a paradox, how much she loathed and loved her more logical side right now. It sounded tauntingly similar to Izuku's voice.
As Setsuna lowered her feet to the ground, it was the Tiger who stepped forward. Izuku fidgeted, still in his daze, as she prowled forward.
"Because of one for all…" Setsuna repeated, drawing out the phrase. Izuku stopped fidgeting, and for a second, the fugue cleared off his eyes. "...Funny response, that. I was more hoping for "oh Setsuna, you can't even fathom how much I love you," and then a kiss, if I could be so lucky. In fact, let me elaborate…"
Her leading foot pivoted inward, and she launched herself at Izuku with explosive speed. Her forearm met his, coated in green. It was the only thing stopping the comparatively frail limb from snapping in half. Izuku sucked in a breath as Setsuna gave him her most dazzling, sharp-toothed smile.
[x]
She might as well have beaten him over the head with a barbed-wire baseball bat. Smiling, inches from his face, lavender and warmth spilling off her, she was so overwhelming he could hardly stomach it.
"My crush on you started a few days after you saved my mom's life," she said, and it slipped inside his chest like an obsidian dagger. Twisting, he tried shoving her away with Voidlimb—only to lose his balance entirely. She swept out his legs, grabbed his wrist, and flung him into the air with super strength.
He realized Voidlimb disappeared as he crested. With a quick call, he tried to re-substantiate the technique, but felt nothing—not even a tingle. Before he fell, Setsuna shot up and caught his ankle. Spinning mid-air, she tossed him towards the stands.
"It never felt like the right time to say anything, with how busy life was. Before I knew it, I'd gotten comfortable!" She continued, chasing him mid-air as he summoned a slab of smoke to catch him. "We had fun! I didn't wanna stress about it. By the time I was sure it was more than a crush, I didn't even consider confessing!"
He tried to summon Voidlimb as he landed again, but still, nothing. Setsuna fell on him with a kick, which he blocked with a thick smoke wall. Instead of relenting, however, she held herself in the sky and pushed, testing his barricade's sturdiness. Drawing on all his focus, he pushed back against her foot.
Then the memory of his slip-up shattered his concentration, and his wall alike. Her kick sent him on his ass, but it didn't break anything. Still, he couldn't breath until after he stood and scrambled away, nursing his bruise.
It was impossible to admit One for All's name. After years of trying, it was just another aspect of reality, like gravity or thermodynamics. One could not mention the quirk.
Nighteye did, some part of him reminded himself. It only made his guts queasier.
Setsuna landed with unparalleled grace, and took on a stance Izuku knew intimately. Popping off her arm at the delt, Setsuna showed him her palm and bent her knees as low as they went.
Her technique was juvenile, but that meant little when her knuckles could punch holes in granite. She assaulted him one-armed as she continued to talk, somehow never stopping for air.
"It was a Tuesday night—or maybe Wednesday morning?—around 2:00 a.m. We'd just gotten off the phone because your head was killing you. Not even two months before the Bridge. I didn't realize it then, but that was when the switch flipped."
Izuku staggered, and Setsuna's open palm crunched against his shoulder.
He'd spent literal years yearning to just open his mouth and say it. The universe had only given him three billion opportunities, what with their late night calls, early morning walks, and mid-day training. Not a day passed without the thought crossing his mind and One for All holding his tongue hostage.
"See, it wasn't when you saved my mom, or me, or all those people. It wasn't when we hugged after getting into U.A., or when I found you alive in the USJ. It was a quiet moment while I laid in bed, when something just clicked."
She nearly took out his lower ribs before he stepped back. Refusing to hesitate, he forced Smokescreen to grab his dislocated arm and wrench it back in place. It wasn't the first time he'd done so, and it'd been no easier—but the pain was an afterthought.
So how, his mind begged, did he just admit that it was One for All's fault he was like this? It didn't make sense. It repeated as a mantra in his mind. It didn't make sense. It didn't make sense. Why now? Why now? Why now?
How? How? How? How?
"After the Bridge, I made a promise to myself. Losing a limb changes your perspective, I guess—but it made me realize how fragile you might be. I can bounce back from anything. You can endure—but only up to a point. So, I promised myself I'd support you, and when you broke, I'd help pick up the pieces," Setsuna said, feinting left and swinging right. "And I did it because—get this—I decided if you cared half as much for me as I did you, then you were worth fighting for. And I was right! You care so much more than I could've hoped for!"
His chest squeezed his heart in a fiery vice, burning the delicate organ with molten-iron fingers. He'd spent so much time, worked so hard, endured everything—
Setsuna began hounding him from both sides, all the while maintaining her handicap. It wasn't a mimic or a taunt—it was an exact mirror. Where Izuku's left shoulder was empty, Setsuna missed her right. Light on her feet, she moved as he might in the mirror. She'd pulled a similar stunt once, but the outcome had been far more bearable on his end.
He blinked, and behind his eyes were a dozen people. At their front was a grotesque, enraged face, and it bore into Izuku's eyes, never faltering.
Setsuna managed to skim his ribs.
"So, I'm curious when it happened for you," she asked, as if in a casual discussion and not a life-and-death dance. "Because I've been fighting quietly for years, and I wanna know when your battle began. So—for curiosity's sake—did you fall first, or did I fall in love with you first, Izuku Midoriya?"
Her lips were smiling, but the intensity behind her eyes betrayed no hint of joy. He lingered on them, appreciating their color, counting the contrasting greens circling her pupils.
When several seconds passed, he felt something was wrong. This was a fight—a weird, emotional, torturous fight, but one nonetheless. There should never be a moment of extended calm to get lost in the opponent's eyes.
And, as the center of attention in a hyper-massive tournament arena streamed to billions, there should be a little more cheering.
But the crowds were silent. More than that, they were unmoving. Setsuna's clothes should've rustled in the gentle breeze. Her hair should've bounced with every punch. It did not—and she did not punch.
And there was no wind.
Izuku blinked, and over Setsuna's shoulder, Five was watching him with tired eyes. He looked around—time had come to a quiet stop. A nearby drone was immobile, and Izuku counted six blades per quarter keeping it aloft. They weren't spinning.
"This again…?" Izuku croaked, glancing around for any explosions. The last time Danger Sense drew him into this space, it'd been building into a singularity for literal years. It'd only popped when the entire world registered as a threat.
There were no explosions. No villains flying over the Stadium's rim. No active shooters, bombs, a-wire quirks, or structural collapse. Even the ridiculously massive cavern beneath him was just… fine.
So, his first question should've been "why?" or "how?"
But it was not.
"You… Banjo…" Izuku whispered, turning back to the apparition hovering behind Setsuna. Five floated into the open—or more like the gliding equivalent of trudged. Everything he did was with a terrible effort, as if his constitution was so inebriated that he could hardly maintain opaqueness. It disconcerted Izuku, and stifled his initial accusations. "...You…? Are you alright?"
Five sighed and shook his head.
"Kid, I thought this kinda thing would've been behind us by now. Behind you."
Any concern Izuku cobbled together fell apart.
"Behind me?" Izuku parroted, not caring to hide his venom. "The hell do you mean "this kind of thing?" Don't waste my time just to spew crap! I'm busy right now."
"I'm not wasting anyone's time, kid. I'm Blackwhip, not Danger Sense. Whatever this is, it's between you and Four. I'm just—"
"Oh, so this is my fault?" Izuku asked, throwing his arm out to the frozen world. "You've done nothing wrong? Who else hasn't done anything wrong? Four? Six? Goddamn Seven, Three, Two—the whole shebang?"
Izuku couldn't explain the way he seethed, why Five's simple expression drew out all his frustrations. He couldn't scream and shout at Setsuna—to her, he could hardly speak up at all. Here, though? Nothing could hold his tongue—not even One for All.
"What about Seven throwing my powers out of balance? What about you cutting off Blackwhip? What about One for All keeping me quiet for six years only to let me blurb one random goddamn Thursday afternoon?"
By the time Izuku finished, he was panting. His head felt a lightness to match the pins and needles in his fingers, but it was worth the discomfort. It felt amazing to point fingers without a gag order.
But Five hardly reacted. He certainly heard Izuku—he'd spoken loud enough for the whole Stadium to hear, had that been possible. Five just took the verbal whipping as if Izuku smacked him with silly string. In the face of Izuku's tantrum, he was a boulder to breeze. The disappointed gleam in his eyes nearly cowed Izuku back into submission. Nearly.
"I can guide your Blackwhips, Nine, but I'm incapable of commanding them. As such, I'm equally unqualified to revoke your permissions. If Blackwhip won't call, it's not because of me."
Izuku squeezed and released his fist. Another insult built in his throat, but after a moment of quiet, he calmed himself. Logically, he knew this was true. But it wasn't what he wanted to hear.
It was, in fact, the last thing he ever wanted to hear.
"...But that's not what you mean," Izuku said, meeting Five's eyes.
The phantom dipped his head.
"...But it's not what I mean."
They held each other's gaze until Izuku's homicidal urge made him choke. It was a miraculous rage—a feeling he didn't think he was capable of producing.
"You're lying," Izuku said, feeling his fingernails dig into his palm. "There's—It's not possible. It can't be."
Five shook his head. Izuku just shook.
"But… but we talked about this, damnit!" Izuku said, turning back to old arguments. "You said it yourself—you said it yourself!—that I was forbidden from telling her! You argued so hard, told me a thousand times that it was impossible! Now—what!? You expect me to believe that you've chosen right fucking now to change your mind?"
Five winced, but otherwise let Izuku's words slide around him.
"I haven't changed my mind. Every bond you make is another risk to them and a weakness for you. If I had it my way, I'd wring Nighteye's pencil neck for even suggesting what he did today."
Izuku would've socked Five in the jaw, had he been tangible. It didn't matter that Izuku agreed with him—voicing those thoughts aloud ignited something within him he couldn't quite contain.
But, he still listened. He tried not to lash out, but it was far harder than it should've been. Simmering, he pulled his eyes off Five and rested them on Setsuna. She was still frozen, still lovely, and still a pang in his heart. If she could see his thoughts right now, she'd be sick.
Slowly, he focused his mind. If he couldn't calm himself, he could at least direct his feelings accordingly.
"...But," Izuku repeated, "that's not what you mean. You're not very good at double-speak, Five. Be honest. What did you do? I won't get mad. I promise."
"I literally live inside you. It's hard not to feel that you're already mad—"
"Tell me, goddamnit—!"
"No one's been stopping you!" Five roared, his calm facade cracking in half. He froze, as if shocked by his own outburst. Izuku thought that he'd back down again, but was surprised when Five shook off his hesitation and ramped up the heat. "All you've done has been throwing around blame, but it's on you!"
Izuku took a deep, slow breath. He did not shake. He did not.
"That. Is not. Possible," Izuku said. "And if you ever say that again—"
"There it is again!" Five bellowed, pointing between Izuku's eyes. "Teenagers! I hate them! You think it's our fault? You blame us? Take a look in the mirror and take on some goddamn responsibility! How would One for All even keep you quiet? You think we're gonna possess you? Don't you think you'd notice if I fucking appeared and pinched your lips closed, kid?"
"It is not possible," Izuku reiterated. "I feel it stir whenever I try to talk. I feel my throat close, my tongue get heavy. When—
"It's not a crime to get cold feet, Nine! It's not a crime to be unsure, to hesitate! And by the gods—"
It's not possible!" Izuku screeched, silencing the raging bald man. His voice bounced off the quiet Stadium stands, echoing over itself until all that remained was the memory. In a quieter voice, he reassured himself. "It's not possible. I wouldn't have done this to her. To… myself."
"Maybe it wasn't a conscious choice, kid," Five said, echoing his tone. "But in the end…"
Izuku hated it. Him. Five. One for All—he hated it all. It was such a ridiculous premise… He never would've hidden what he could've shared. He never would've clammed up like he had, never would've avoided answering… uncomfortable questions.
…
"Do you love me?" Setsuna had asked. He couldn't answer. Something deeply physical, something deeply painful, held his tongue. It was out of his hands, he'd thought. One for All must've held his tongue.
Only… it didn't make any sense. His feelings were irrelevant to the secret, and if One for All could force him to stay safe, it would keep him holed up in his room.
In the end…
"...What you do has always been your choice, not ours. You chose to hide," Five said.
…It was his decision to hide.
He thought of Nighteye revealing One for All. No one deduced it—he'd made a decision to tell them and followed through. Was that Izuku's issue? That Nighteye got to choose, and Izuku felt trapped? Izuku tried to justify it logically; the risks, the threat, the security breach, the broken trust—but it didn't add up, and he realized now that it never would. Jealousy was his issue. Not the tangible threat, not the security risks—Izuku was just jealous.
On top of that, he wasn't even jealous over poor circumstances. It was all in his head. Just worthless delusion and irrational anger. A goddamn mental block.
Dr. Fujimaki would laugh. Or click his tongue and tut.
He studied Setsuna's face for what felt like a long time. Though the seconds dragged on, each one that passed felt a fraction quicker than the last. Time wasn't truly frozen, Izuku reminded himself. Danger Sense was just making him think faster. Eventually, it would either give him an aneurysm, or plop him back into the real world.
Her cheekbones seemed sharper, her chin less soft. An unfortunate raccoon ring circled her red eyes, and her hair was disheveled. In the back of his mind, a little warning tingled. It wasn't Danger Sense—that part of his brain was doing far more than just tickling. His brain felt like it was on fire, yet Izuku felt separated somehow. As if just an observer in his body.
She fought under great duress. She'd tortured herself, torn through every obstacle, and disregarded even her most basic needs to stand before him. This wasn't the first time she'd turned to outlandish methods, nor was it the first time he was the problem. For the hundredth time, it was all his fault. All along, he hadn't been under some supernatural power's thumb, he'd been exactly what Setsuna accused him of being: a coward. Izuku hid behind the excuse of One for All like a selfish, scared little child.
Setsuna dedicated herself to him. The way it made his heart flutter disgusted him. Izuku didn't even deserve her contempt. In this drawn out moment, where the world stood still and drones flew unmoving, Izuku heard whirring helicopter blades. His nose filled with iron and his throat tasted like copper.
He'd made a promise too. Live with honor. Serve others.
Izuku looked at his hand. He studied the thick calluses and natural grooves as his insides twisted. Cold, paralyzing numbness replaced his beating heart, and his brain was so furiously alive with shame that the fiery pain had transcended into something empty and chilling.
He floated at the bottom of an ocean. He sank into the frozen heart of the dunes.
"But," Five continued, though each word grew more obscured than the last. "While it hurts, you—an—choose for—elf…"
Izuku couldn't pretend he'd lived in honor anymore. He couldn't pretend he served others. He couldn't pretend he hadn't failed the man who defined him. With that realization, a single, powerful note rang through him.
He was worthless.
Setsuna blinked. Drones buzzed past. The crowd cheered on.
And Blackwhip came when called.
[x]
"...Or did I fall in love with you first, Izuku Midoriya?" Setsuna asked, relenting for a single second. For years, Setsuna thought the words would've eased the weight off her heart. They did not. It was no huge release; in fact, her heart never felt heavier. She was a mess of desires and urges, only tempered by her goal.
Each leg burned with the need to kick. Her arms begged to squeeze him till he popped. She did neither; instead, she granted him an entire second to understand her seriousness, and held off from dislocating his jaw in the meanwhile.
It was a mistake. Izuku's eyes, for a split second, lost their focus. The awful pinch in his face likewise slackened, and it was eerie, as though for that heartbeat, Izuku died. Everything human in him voided. His stress vanished, his focus faltered, and his color paled. Perhaps she wasn't being logical, but neither was she stupid. For the second time, her honesty revolted him, and his inability to conceal that was a rusted shank through her heart.
So, she made a split second decision to harden. She forgot the cameras, forgot her promise, forgot their bond, and forgot herself. In that moment, her strategy changed:
If he was too cowardly to acknowledge her words, she'd pummel him until it wasn't her words he'd have to respect. Her legs celebrated victory as she exploded forward, her fist target-locked on Izuku's gut.
As if he hadn't faltered in the first place, Izuku burst back to life. She was mere inches from his torso—but only for a nanosecond. With terrible force, a wall of pure energy met her knuckles, crumpled them, and sent her flying in the same blink.
She barely caught her bearings before she was seized mid-air. Cool, slippery black whips snatched her wrists and ankles before she even realized what was happening. Her vision was a writhing mass of black, consumed by chaos. On more instinct than technique, she thrashed, briefly freeing herself—but only for a heartbeat. The second she was free, the whips returned with double the fervor. That moment was all she needed to see Izuku, however.
He stood in the stage's center, in stark contrast to his quirk. While it flailed and struck and whipped away, he hardly moved an inch. Hunched over, his focus forsook Setsuna for the bland tiles below.
The whips punished her for letting her attention wander. They seized her once again, and as she fought them off, a pang of familiarity struck. This was the same monster that came out against Bakugo. She couldn't excuse the similarities— the wild, inexplicable power was puppeteering him again. Realizing that, a raw anger replaced the deja vu. For his last troubles, Izuku gained a scar he'd die with. She refused to let it end like that again.
Setsuna was stronger than any whip by itself. With her half-healed hand, she pulled against the constraints around her other wrist. The whips stretched some, and with a hard yank, they snapped. Finding the next, she grabbed it with both hands and twisted, like popping off a pickle jar lid. With a static hiss, the whip tore in two.
Before she could destroy the next, a bundle of three slapped her across the back. She staggered, and they took the chance to encircle her waist and squeeze. In her peripherals, others began to follow, seeking to capitalize on the moment—and that's when she understood.
Izuku wasn't in control. If he was, the whips never would've tried to grab her with such little foresight.
Setsuna split in half at the waist, freeing her legs and torso at once. She immediately split her legs into forty-five pieces, and her skull was quick to follow.
Splitting her pupils used to feel so overwhelming. Now, it was just another tactic. Her vision fractured into sixteen slices of reality, giving her perspective on the whole arena. No stone went unturned, no whip went unnoticed, and not a single piece went wasted.
Before her was a terrible threat, seeking her harm. Izuku's monster was more exotic than anything that roamed the Earth's surface. Larger than a kraken and more beautiful than a sea anemone, if left unchecked, it could do untold harm to her, the arena, and even Midnight, who cautiously stood towards the arena's furthest edge. Not even a professional wanted to confront Izuku's meltdown.
With great precision, Setsuna began her crusade.
Half her kneecap smashed against a whip, stunning it long enough for her upper body to pounce. While she tore it in half, her other forty four pieces kept the other whips busy. Some, she guided with specific intent. Others, she revolved in a storm, spinning them so fast that it didn't matter that she wasn't aiming—they'd eventually hit something, and when they did, they hit hard.
The faster she was, the easier it got. Torn whips didn't regenerate easily, and without a competent conductor, their song was an awkward mess of melodies and rhythms. As she began tearing more and more, gaps began opening between her and Izuku. Inch by inch, the malevolent thorn wall unraveled.
She forced her way in each gap, fighting closer and closer to the source. Setsuna didn't have the faintest clue how Bakugo'd taken him down last time. Taking mere inches of space took mountains of effort and years off her life.
As she closed in, however, she picked up something odd. Though her ears were filled to bursting with liquid adrenaline and pounding blood, something shined through all the action. A distant muttering—a dissociated phantom, whispering in ancient halls.
Izuku's voice was light, even compared to the breeze. He spoke into the floor, but spoke he did, and he didn't falter. But, as close as Setsuna got, she still couldn't quite hear.
A thick tangle of whips blocked her passage, so she split her forearms down to her elbows. Snatching four whips at once, she pulled them close and bit. Her teeth sank into all four whips and popped like balloons, leaving an awful, metallic bitterness. Spitting out their awful taste, Setsuna charged forward, swatting aside the lingering motes of energy.
"What are you saying?" Setsuna asked, calling out through the throes of her struggle. A whip strayed too close to her mouth, so she bit it. When a whip struck her, she retaliated. Across the stage, she'd managed to pin a few whips, lightening her struggle further—but it still wasn't enough. They just kept coming, and Izuku kept muttering. "I can't hear you!"
"—an't believe it. There's just—"
Setsuna destroyed another whip.
"—ll along, I'd ju—"
With her split hands, she grabbed another four whips. Before she could rend them, she was taken by surprise.
"—isn't possi—"
Three braided whips lashed her back, sending white-hot pain up her spine. She staggered, clenching her jaw as she spun around and caught the braided whip before it could sting her again.
"—less cowar—"
In her haste, she forgot about the others. They crashed against her in a flood, taking every part of her hostage. She held the braided bastard at bay with one hand and tore two whips off her chest with the other. She popped her shoulder off, avoiding a whip around her armpit—but before she could remove the fourth, the braided whips broke her grip.
"—true, then maybe… just maybe I—"
She overcompensated when she lunged to recapture it, and the whips she'd just discarded were joined by several more. At least double, no, triple circled her, strengthening each hold and pinning her thoroughly. Setsuna was halfway through splitting her chest when the braided whip struck, blinding her with pain—only for a second strike to come faster than she thought possible.
Escaping some whips, she used her split arms to tug and pull what she couldn't shrug off with raw force. All the while, she struggled to dodge two braids. There was an instinctual tempo to their movements, and with enough time, she might've learned it—she didn't have any. She siphoned off her chest piece by piece, only able to eject a fistful of flesh every few seconds as more and more and more whips came to ensnare her.
Her limbs started to burn. Her flesh began feeling hollow. Her strength started to dwindle. She stopped being able to tell the difference between the black motes of energy and the dark gaps in her vision.
"—suna… Setsu—"
Only her outrage kept her fighting. Setsuna's training, efforts, and feelings kept beating her over the head with a hammer. She refused to waste it—the time training, the years yearning—if she failed here, if Izuku won like this, then it was all for nothing.
It was up to her to help him, if he couldn't help himself. No one else could do it. She fought and tore and bit and punched and didn't relent. She'd promised herself to help him. She'd promised old Torino to do her best. She'd promised her dad to knock some sense into him.
She lost the ability to discern between weakness and burden. Though she'd fought through so much, Izuku's writhing form was regenerating, and she was faltering. What remained of her volume slowed down, shackled by testy whips and leadened muscles. Her ability to tear apart whips faded. Her ability to shrug off his grasp dwindled. Still, she struggled—most of the distance was crossed, and she only had so little left to go…
"—Setsuna?"
Her heart raged hearing his voice. It made her want to fight, to push, to struggle onward. A thick wall of whips muffled what little strength his voice offered, but she knew, on a physical and instinctual level, how tantalizingly close they were.
Most of her was scattered. Her eyes were far off, safe from the action. Through the many perspectives, she saw the whips, no longer impeded by her rampage, begin taking ground. Across the stage, she saw more than felt herself lose dozens of micro-battles. Whips began leashing her floating pieces and turning them into glorified organic balloons. What they couldn't leash, they batted aside. What they couldn't bat aside, they held captive at her core.
Her "core" hardly resembled a person. Though her brain was safe and sound, what she truly felt as her center was her heart. It beat, nearly exposed, inside of her chest, mere feet from Izuku. Surrounding it was her left ribs, shoulder, and boob. The curve of her neck rested above, connected to the base of her nose and a single ear.
It was a flimsy defense as armors went. Modern militaries defended their critical weaknesses with nano-carbon pulse shields. Izuku's black whips, though wild, were likewise a superior guard for his vulnerable heart. All Setsuna had were her ribs. Vulnerable, breakable, human ribs.
She hated how she shivered. Not five minutes ago, she'd bared the delicate organ to Izuku without a thought. Now she wasn't sure if he would abuse it as a weakness. Willing herself forward, dozens of whips strained to hold her back.
"Izu!" Setsuna cried. "Are you—"
A wave of strength made the whips yank her back before she could finish, and in strange ways, she thanked that. She didn't know what she was going to say. Are you alright? Are you stupid? It was foolish. She needed to subdue him, to pummel him until he knew she cared. Confrontation, it seemed, was the only way to break through the distance he put between them. This uncontrolled power was his response, after all. Talking was behind them.
A treacherous little whisper objected in the back of her mind. Setsuna shivered again, remembering the awful noise of Izuku's skull cracking against the arena wall. He'd almost died when his quirk went this haywire. She knew she'd pushed his buttons, but had she really driven him to such risks? Or…?
She tried to dismiss the thought, but as she tried calling her strength back, a tiny guilt spread. Was confrontation really the only way?
Her mind raced back to older times when they fought. There was hardly anything to analyze—sure, they often disagreed, but they never argued. Never… fought. Not really—and never on anything so fundamental. They resolved middling issues through words. Small issues came and went through the sparring ring. This was unprecedented territory. Izuku'd never withdrawn so thoroughly, so Setsuna figured she'd have to react just as dramatically.
But… as she struggled under more and more whips, she realized her ferocity might've gotten ahead of her. Though they could communicate through touches alone, be them caresses or strikes, it was only second nature. They shined best face to face, speaking like adults. Things had never gone well when they'd skipped talking for action.
So, though her heart ached and her pride whimpered, she chose to do the one thing she should've started this whole situation with:
She stopped swimming against the current. Recalling what pieces she could, Setsuna let Izuku pull her as he truly felt.
[x]
Midnight sprinted across the Arena's outer edge, dodging spare tentacles as they whistled past. Her mind raced with Nighteye's revelation, now finally able to reconcile the boy's story with the threat he posed. She hadn't been on the ground floor for this monster last time, but after seeing the recording, she knew that hardly mattered. This—this monster—was the power of generations, and it was even larger than it'd been last time.
She dodged a flailing limb and prepared to run, but the tentacle didn't pursue. It whipped the ground with atrocious strength, scarring the concrete and dirt with deep trenches. Another almost removed her head, and a third almost caught her shoulder; but at each junction, there was never a follow-up.
The realization that Midoriya wasn't in control was like a gust of cold air. What attacked her wasn't malicious—she was just an unlucky bystander. Midnight was barely keeping her head on straight, and she wasn't even the target.
It made the younger girl all the more impressive. Tokage was fighting for her life, and while she was barely holding it back, she was doing more than Midnight ever could. Soon, however…
Soon, she'd fall.
Midnight's nails dug into her suit's chest, but she didn't tear it yet. With her other hand, she found her walkie-talkie, and opened Cementoss's frequency.
Seconds later, his gray, square head appeared, and he circled to the far side of Izuku. Blackwhip, Nighteye'd called it, was still growing. Like a midnight flower, it was blossoming beyond the Arena's borders, and soon, it would reach the Stadium. That couldn't be allowed.
Tokage was the only reason it hadn't grown that bold already, but she was slowing down. Though she'd been tearing and punching and battering everything that got too close, she couldn't keep it up.
Nothing could last forever, Midnight thought with dread. As Midoriya overpowered Setsuna and dragged her into the flower's heart, she was proven right. Forgoing the walkie, Midnight shouted at Cementoss with her whole chest.
"Code Orange-2!"
Walls started to rise.
[x]
Cotton filled his ears as he swayed. His right leg felt like a thin peg, wood-rotted and weak. Izuku wasn't quite sure how he was still upright. When he thought of his left leg, he came up blank.
It was similar to using his left hand. The memory was still there, the movement, but his "hand" just passed through anything he tried touching. The only difference, he supposed, was that he hadn't blown his leg off in a tantrum. Thus, a mystery was afoot.
Where was his leg?
He blinked once—slow, dutifully—then a second time. Quicker. Realization dawned. Ah. Mystery solved. Izuku couldn't feel his leg, hip, or shoulder because Blackwhip was out. It was an odd feeling, being numb on one half of his body. It wasn't like amputation. There was no phantom pain, no lingering ideas of flesh. Just the void.
It was almost nice, but it prompted another question. Blackwhip turned his skin numb when it was out for too long. So, if he was numb all over, how much time had passed? Certainly a minute or so, but he couldn't make out the outer world. Izuku sat in a black bubble, with the circumference resting just outside his reach. A wall of blackwhips kept the world out and Izuku safe, but it left him no hints to the passage of time.
Izuku tried to figure out what Blackwhip was doing where he couldn't see, but it was hopeless. Though each whip provided him zero sensory information, whatever Blackwhip touched vibrated down to the base. Depending on the whip's age and how they behaved, he could usually deduce what it was "feeling."
However, whatever was currently happening was beyond him. His side was so numb that even as he watched the writhing tentacles coil and twitch with great effort, he felt nothing. Izuku couldn't even feel how many whips he hosted.
It might be for the best, he thought, before looking down. He felt lethargic; watching the ever-moving blackwhip wall was exhausting. The tiles didn't move. His legs didn't move. They were easier to observe.
That, and there was less chance for miracles. Whatever happened, he didn't want to accidentally see Setsuna between the gaps of his quirk.
Izuku closed his eyes. Whatever happened. Childish words. Throwing control to the wind, but keeping a close hold on desire. It was a familiar methodology to him.
He swallowed a rock. A sharp, hard, pointy rock. Too familiar. "It wasn't my fault," "it's out of my hands," and "I can't do this until something changes."
These were regular thoughts. He had each excuse on speed-dial, and wasn't afraid to make the call. Pathetic. Izuku'd never reflected on his thought process that way before, and couldn't remember if Dr. Fujimaki ever tried. It didn't take long to decide that he must've—but why he might not have relayed that analysis, Izuku couldn't say.
Of course, his tactical mind knew that to really get his desired outcome, he needed to control every variable. X and Y, time and place, theory and execution—if even one slipped from him, he was disadvantaged. So why, in this moment, did he try to shrug off blame again? Worthless.
He was a failure as a successor. A failure as a tactician. A failure as a friend. He was even worse as a partner. Izuku was long aware of this. He hadn't accepted it.
Somehow in his mind, he'd justified his many faults by loathing a few. By hating one thing about himself, he was able to sleep at night, despite his piling problems. More water was collecting in the mesh bowl than was escaping.
Now, at the height of it, his first instinct was to just throw it all away. His own awfulness repulsed him. Not another soul on Earth was as despicable.
He…
…He didn't like being despicable. It wasn't very heroic. In fact, it was the opposite of heroic. More than that, it wasn't very Izuku Midoriya.
Something caught his ear. Something muffled, miles away—but something familiar. A voice. Feminine. Panicked. Confused.
He swallowed again, but nothing went down. Izuku's mouth was bone dry. No matter. His jaw trembled. Fear, one might say, was the killer of spirit. Spirit, Izuku might say, may need to die today. Something more… delicate was needed.
When Izuku opened his eyes, he knew it wasn't an accident. Five's voice echoed in his heart.
"It was always your choice," Izuku said, tasting the words on his lips. More double-speak from his phantom friend, but in this case, not nearly so awful to hear.
Blackwhip wasn't an independent entity living inside Izuku. They—It—He—was Izuku himself. A direct extension of his will. It acted out when he was scared and confused. It listened when he was confident and controlled. It hurt people when he wanted to lash out. It helped people when he wanted to help. It held Setsuna when he wanted to hold her.
When he made the choice to face her, it brought her.
She was partially incomplete. One of her arms was missing, and her legs only formed to her kneecaps. Thankfully, there was nothing missing about the shape of her head—not her ears, not her scalp, not her jaw.
Setsuna brought everything that mattered. And Izuku had her shackled in Blackwhip like chains.
"My choice?" Setsuna asked, her voice tired. She fidgeted, visibly uncomfortable when one his whips restrained the tilt of her head. With a deep breath, he released her—but not the quirk. Some privacy was still in order. So, under the veil of a thousand whips, Izuku kneeled as Setsuna rubbed her wrist and stretched.
Blackwhip didn't let him bow, but he tried. It was unfortunate, because even kneeling, he could see her staring at him with big, guarded eyes. Izuku lingered in the position, considering the space where Setsuna's feet might've been.
His choice. With a terrible sigh, Izuku shakily rose. He wouldn't hide from the consequences, anymore.
"When I was nine… I killed All Might."
Setsuna blinked, and Izuku marveled at the words leaving his lips. More to himself than to her, he continued.
"Everyone bends over backwards to excuse me, to find fault elsewhere—and I-I… I guess they mean well. They blame the monster who dealt the killing blow. But not me. I blame the person who tripped him up, who distracted him during the pivotal moment."
He wasn't sure how he held her eyes. He couldn't fathom why she didn't break it off then and there. His confidence quivered, but as his eyes grew unbearably hot, he managed to choke the rest out.
"I-I might as well have dealt the lethal blow myself… and he still gave me his quirk. One for All is—it's like a body-hopping generational battery, stockpiling spare stamina from its host to use in bursts later. Genetically, it's—"
"Keep going, Izu. Deconstruct it later," Setsuna whispered, void of inflection. Izuku cringed, feeling the indifference as a wound. Hurriedly, he continued before she could speak again. If she cut him off here, he didn't know what he'd do.
"H-he… All Might… was the Eighth host. I… He made me swear an oath, and fed me the blood I spilled. I gained all his s-strength—" Izuku wheezed, squeezing his eyes shut. Bile threatened the back of his tongue, but he pushed through. Distantly, he was aware that Blackwhip was growing unruly, more violent, but he didn't care. "B-but n-nothing else. All the world gained was another dead man, a-and as f-for me…"
Izuku scratched at the bulk of blackwhips growing from his stump. His head pounded with blood. Murderer. Cripple. Disfigurer. It was too much to explain at once.
"I… lost myself."
He opened his eyes, and though his mouth tasted like vomit and blood, he endured the pain pushed past the fear. Meeting Setsuna's silent expression, he found the same shade of green that made his heart flutter. More than his crimes, what ashamed Izuku the most was that he still wanted her to love him.
"And I found… you."
His vision swam. Blackwhip haloed Setsuna's stoic stance, constantly moving. There was a certain gloss to it—like the Full moon reflecting off a pitch-black creek. With his world spinning and nausea threatening his every fidget, Izuku couldn't allow himself to move.
As a silence dragged on between them, Izuku only felt worse and worse. For the first time in years, he truly couldn't read her. It was terrifying—all their time together had been based on a lie, sure, but he thought he still knew her, even if she didn't know him. Now, with just one admission, it was like those years vanished. She was just… another person. Even trying his hardest, he couldn't see her inner thoughts.
Izuku wasn't surprised by the ache it planted in his chest, but that didn't make it easier to bear. He understood it, he would accept it, but the raw hurt was simply overwhelming. The pain was a furnace, and as it forged Izuku into glass, he wondered what it might take to break him. A boulder? A stone? A pebble? A gust of wind?
"S-so… you can ask me anything now. I-I promise I'll answer," Izuku asked, unable to bear the silent scrutiny.
"Anything?" Setsuna asked, immediately perking up.
He managed to nod without vomiting. Izuku considered every possible answer to her questions, from how he met Nighteye, to One for All, and even why he hadn't told her already. That last one would've been the hardest, but he'd already thrown out any pride he had left. If she wanted it, she would know.
"Do you love me?"
Izuku blinked, his blithering brain freezing up.
"Huh?"
Setsuna's eyebrows scrunched.
"You said anything, I asked for something. So?"
Izuku's mouth opened and closed, searching for and failing to find the words to express his confusion. He just told her he'd murdered a person—a hero—THE Hero—and all she cared about was…?
She drew forward till her breath tickled his nose. Setsuna swallowed his world whole, forcing herself into his undivided attention. He wondered if she was trying to make him focus on her. It was impossible to say. If so, she was grossly misunderstanding his delay. Her proximity did things to his brain far less productive than helping him think.
Papery skin. Blotches of acne. Deep eyebags. Thin cheeks. Lavender. Warm like sunshine. Radiant. She was so distracting, so oppressive, that he didn't even notice Blackwhip slipping back under his skin, mission accomplished.
Hand shaking, Izuku palmed Setsuna's cheek and rubbed circles into her ear with his thumb. It meant everything to him that she let him.
"Yes," Izuku whispered. "I love you."
Setsuna's eyes flared, and Izuku surrendered everything to her scrutiny. She left no stone unturned, and when she finished, despite showing nothing, Izuku was ecstatic to realize it—that he could once again understand the girl he knew and loved.
"Then that's good enough for me. Beating you up was fun, but you're deeply troubled," Setsuna whispered, resting her elbow on his shoulder. Without his noticing, her other arm joined around his nape. The gap between their bodies closed as she melded against him. His arm found her lower back on its own.
It wasn't just his choice to tell her, Izuku realized. She also had the choice to accept him for what he was.
The moment Setsuna made her decision, Izuku closed the gap and kissed her.
He'd never felt so light.
[x]
Midnight craned her neck to see Midoriya and Tokage's embrace as they slowly spun in the air. They were lucky Cementoss erected huge walls between them and the spectators—otherwise, they'd be getting quite the voracious applause.
As things were, a few drones still recorded them, so their little moment would certainly reach the huge screens in a matter of moments, and the greater Japan area in minutes. In less than ten minutes, the whole world would see them.
She let out a weary sigh, but a happy one. Izuku's powers were contained, and his youth was shining so vigorously that heat was filling Midnight's cheeks.
"Ah, youth," Midnight whispered to herself in a sing-song voice. After it all, she couldn't imagine a more perfect ending—and she laughed, realizing that neither kid could probably imagine a more mortifying ending than this. She considered letting it play out to teach them a lesson about PDA, but… that wasn't very heroic.
With her walkie, she found Aizawa's frequency and linked it to Cementoss's.
"Hold the wall a little longer, and stop the stream. Let's cut the kids a break," she said, and pocketed the terrible little thing. So archaic.
The two lovebirds eventually floated down enough that Midnight couldn't help herself.
"So who wins?" Midnight asked, and the scene shattered. Both teens shrieked, still clinging to another mid-air, as their situation dawned on them. They whipped their heads around, suddenly seeing the towering walls protecting their privacy. Midnight stifled a laugh. "You might want to choose quickly, 'cuz I doubt either of you want to continue, and I can only hold the broad cast off for a little while longer…"
"Oh my god…" Tokage groaned.
"Okay okay!" Midoriya said, looking at Tokage. "You can have the win, just put me down and I'll go jump off the ledge."
Midnight watched, fascinated, as Setsuna paused, widened her eyes, and shook her head.
"Dude…" She said, unwrapping her arms from on his neck. Resting them against his chest, she gestured down. Izuku's arm held her waist close, but Setsuna wasn't holding him at all. And yet...
They were still floating.
"...I'm not the one holding us up."
[x]
AN: lord i think i cooked. maybe you guys hate it. maybe its trash. maybe that section with setsuna talking to herself wasn't strictly necessary, or even coherent, but damn. My favorite chapters are probably 54, 32 (despite everything), the Bridge, and this one.
Fellas, the light at the end of the tunnel has arrived.
There's literally so much I could say that my brain is going blank. I'm writing this on thursday, and I'm so overwhelmed with college and helping my father with his loss that everything is kind of numb. I do feel kinda sorry for one guy who I think thought that the setsuna fight ended last chapter with a slap. I DMed you bro but you didn't return my message /3.
We'll get a victory lap for Izuku, then I'll be winding down the story over the course over five-ten chapters. We still have a little time together-but if this chapter wasn't enough for you, I'm afraid you might be shit out of luck.
review!~
P.S.: guys i need a name i need a hero name guys please ive been writing for three years guys its only dawning on me now that I dont have a hero name for him guys, guys help. you don't even wanna LOOK at my original concept for a Izuku's hero name. This story was originally meant to have a heavy hellenistic motif and use greek and roman hero names for everybody BUT while that bleeds through in some places, I mostly dropped that. Before time began and the universe was born, I wrote a scene where Izuku decided his hero name was gonna be Pandora and then Bakugo (? I think, can't really remember) made fun of it for being a girl's name. If i don't figure out a name soon I'm gonna drop the ball soooo bad lol god damn it