Be Not Defeated by the Rain

by SexyDexy

Izuku Midoriya has dreams much bigger than himself. His resolve is tested by the worst day of his life. Cross-posted to AO3 under the named Mr Dex.

The world passed by Izuku as he wandered. Neon glowing signs were muted by the late setting sun, the sounds of haggling and bartering drowned out by the beating heart that was trying to leap up into his throat, and the scrape of his sneakers on the pavement was left behind as he outran his own thoughts. For hours — it felt like hours, at least — Izuku walked, taking turns at random and not tracking wherever it was that he'd ended up after who-knows-how-long. There was nowhere he wanted to go in particular, he just wanted to walk. Walking always cleared his head, helped him know what to do when things were tough. His mother called it 'walking wisdom', where he'd go out for an afternoon stroll and then return home refreshed and ready to manage another week at school, another day of the ceaseless harassment, another hour with burning red eyes pointed at the back of his skull. Walks like these usually helped Izuku prepare himself for more of what life had already given him, but today, as he walked down the seventh street with a 7-Eleven in as many blocks, he still hadn't been able to think of a way to turn today around just yet.

Maybe if I walk another half hour, he thought. Maybe.

Being a teenager was hard. All the social pressure to be popular, attractive, and smart wore on anyone after a while, most of all if one couldn't be those things. Izuku hoped he had at least gotten a hair's width in front of his peers in the smarts category, but attractive? It was subjective, but the majority ruled at Aldera Junior High, and the majority said he was a plain-faced loser who couldn't convince the janitor's mop to let him touch it, so he was inclined to believe it. And the popular part? The less said about that, the better. That was all bad enough, but being a teenager with a dream was harder. With all the above pressure pushing down on everyone, teenagers often felt compelled to form groups with which they could be in, and whoever was out of that group was inferior, an other. Nowadays, since the advent of the superhuman society and the system of heroism Japan knew today, two groups prevailed over all others. Heroes and villains, flashy and dark, beautiful and ugly, strong and weak. Those roots went deep, not only on the streets but in the schools, at Aldera Junior High especially. If someone at Aldera didn't have a strong, flashy, traditionally heroic superpower, then the hormone-driven pack mentality dictated that they must be the opposite, the other. Weak, ugly, envious. As the lowest on the totem pole, the weakest, ugliest, most envious of all the scum at Aldera, it was only logical that Izuku would end up with the hand he'd been dealt. After all, in a society where superheroes are no longer confined to the pages of a manga, the fantastical has become real and one can become the most famous man alive and the saviour of a country based on the merits of his superpower, his Quirk, what would that make someone with the ability to change the colour of their eyes once every twenty-four hours? What would that make someone who had no power, no Quirk at all?

Quirkless. The word felt acidic on his tongue sometimes. Izuku didn't like saying it, not out loud. Oddly enough, there'd been a movement among the non-Quirked to rename their community to just that, the non-Quirked. He didn't like that either. Putting a name to them at all reeked of othering, of exclusion and condescension. Izuku was not a Quirkless person. He was not a non-Quirked person. He was not a person without a Quirk. Izuku Midoriya was a human being, and that's all anyone should need to know. Sometimes he forgot that, letting the cutting words and scathing insults penetrate the armour he tried to put up, but he tried not to let it get to him. Just trying wasn't working as well as it once did, though, and he felt it sometimes, the choking pressure on him at all times to keep calm and ignore the jabs his classmates sent his way, the scorching anger that snuck up on him when his teacher ignored a perfectly good answer because he was the one who gave it. The hollow emptiness that came whenever the eyes on him finally found something better to do than to make him feel like the whole world was holding its breath waiting for him to make a mistake so they could make him regret it. Izuku felt like he was losing his mind some days because of it, but he was still trying, whatever that really meant. He had to, for his mother, who only had him to count on, for himself, for his dreams that he still had to achieve.

And there was the crux of the problem. His dreams. One would think that in a society of superhumans that prized strength and heroism and all the things out of a comic book, the desire to help others would be praised, rewarded. One would think that in a system that held heroes on a pedestal higher than heaven, a boy that wanted to be the greatest hero of them all, out of genuine drive to help others at that, would be lifted up and made to think that dreaming as he did was a good thing, that it would be a worthwhile pursuit for him. Izuku knew better. He knew that in reality, that was only a noble dream if one was born with something, a powerful Quirk that would look good on camera and a marketable personality and appearance. For anyone else, for a girl that could make people see their worst fears, for a boy that could detach his limbs and reattach them, for a child with no Quirk at all, there was the assumption that they could never be a hero, never achieve their dreams. Izuku had been told since he was four years old that he could never be a patrolman who cleaned up the mess after the real heroes did their jobs, much less the number one hero. He still dreamed, though, as he couldn't help but believe in what heroes represented so much that he yearned to be just like them, like him.

All Might, the number one hero in Japan and the self-named Symbol of Peace and Justice, was Izuku's ideal image of himself, or it was the other way around. All Might, real name unknown, age unknown, Quirk unknown, was the perfect hero in Izuku's eyes. Powerful, gentle, unflinching, approachable, tough as a rock and faster than sight, always there to save the day no matter the danger. And he did it all with a smile on his face, like victory was assured as soon as he arrived, like he never felt any fear, never felt afraid he might fail one day, never felt like there might be someone he can't save. That smile was formidable when paired with his other trademark, the declaration of 'I AM HERE,' the three words that could make any villain, no matter their strength, give up immediately. All Might was everything Izuku wanted to be. He saved everyone and always won with a smile on his face, like nothing could ever break him. Except, Izuku now knew that wasn't true anymore.

There's plenty of fear behind that smile. That's what All Might himself had said to Izuku not even an hour ago. They'd met in a tunnel a dozen blocks from where Izuku walked now. The meeting between Izuku and his favourite person in the world, the man that had given him his reason to live all those years ago, had not been the moment he had built up in his head. In a way, it was just as life-changing as he'd believed it would be, but that was not a positive assessment of what had been said. As he thought about it, Izuku's step halted and he tripped over his own foot, stumbling a few steps down the street.

Strangely, nobody who was on the street turned to look at him as he almost fell flat on his face. Looking around, Izuku realised that nobody was on the street at all, and this gave him pause. Now that he'd been pulled out of his daze, the harsh scraping of his shoes on the barren pavement was unbearably loud, a sound that Izuku couldn't wait to stop hearing when he got home. That was another realisation — he didn't know where he was, so he had no idea how he was getting home. Izuku recognised none of the signs along the street, nor the shapes of the buildings and the advertisements they bore on their exterior walls. He fished in his backpack for his phone, pulling it out and checking the time. His mother was likely starting to prepare dinner by then, and the sun had almost entirely crawled behind the horizon. Izuku wondered if it was worth staying out any later just walking when he had to know by now that any more walking wasn't going to give him any new ideas about how to be a hero, just blisters on the bottoms of his feet if he didn't take his shoes off soon. Maybe the problem wasn't the late hour. Maybe he was never going to find the answer he was looking for. Maybe it didn't exist.

Unconsciously, as if directed by an unseen hand, Izuku's feet started moving, the ground before him disappearing as he moved forward. His ears buzzed as he heard familiar noises down the street of echoing voices, shattering concrete and crunching metal — a battle between a hero and villain, maybe multiple judging by how many voices were overlapping. Something in his chest ached at the sound, but his feet moved him forward regardless, as if his muscle memory took over completely when his heart and mind wanted to stay still. As he approached the noise, coming from a market to his right, he took note of the sign above the entrance to said marketplace. He was near Tatooin Station, according to the marketplace sharing the same name, so he could get on a bus or train and be home in half an hour. Izuku arrived at the entrance of the marketplace, though, and his feet wouldn't take him any further.

It was a villain attack. One that half a dozen heroes were standing on the outskirts of and doing nothing about the destruction getting closer and closer to the audience of civilians that had gathered to watch. Izuku recognised most of the heroes, local pros that hadn't made it big quite yet. Slugger, who could create and fire off baseballs, of all things. Death Arms, who had superhuman strength and durability, enough to throw something around the weight of a car and take a similar beating. Kamui Woods, who actually was something of a rising star, having only debuted about a year ago but already being in the top two hundred heroes. The final professional hero doing nothing about the villain attack in progress was Mt. Lady, who was about twenty metres tall at the moment and not using that in any way. As he looked up at her with narrowed eyes, he could see a pimple the size of his fist that would be hidden under her chin if she weren't so large. Something about that seemed like it would be funny to all the kids in his class, but he didn't dwell on it. Izuku looked back around, but couldn't see into the marketplace proper. The first few storefronts he could see on the left and right, through the bulging crowd that had assembled and promptly blocked the view for Izuku at the back, were covered in scorch marks and caved in. He smelled the familiar smell of ash in the air. Kacchan would've liked to see it, but it'll be over soon. Heroes were there, so it was fine.

Izuku couldn't move. He'd turned away from the crowd to leave, but something kept him rooted to the spot, his feet stuck on the concrete sidewalk like it was quickly setting glue. His head turned almost on its own, and he looked at the backs of the hundred or so passersby gathered around the street-adjacent entrance to the usually busy marketplace. Izuku couldn't see most of the damage from where he was, as most of the people in the crowd towered over a fourteen year old boy. He felt his eyes guided over to a specific point in the crowd, and beyond that point was where he could tell he would see the villain causing this commotion if he were to push through to the front. His mind itched to move forward, but his feet were suddenly heavy, as if bricks had been tied to his feet. No matter how much he wanted to, Izuku's body wouldn't move forward.

There's no point, said a voice in his mind. It came from a place deep down, and it sounded different from Izuku's outside voice, like it belonged to someone else, someone cruel and vindictive beyond reason. Izuku knew who it belonged to. Remember what All Might said? Admit it. It's over.

He found himself turning, suddenly looking down the sidewalk yet again. Izuku stumbled forward, the glue at his feet having disappeared. Catching himself on a railing, he looked again at the backs of the crowd and frowned, a painful tightness clutching at his chest. Maybe it was time to be more realistic. What did he ever hope to accomplish with his childish hobby anyway? Writing about all the heroes and their powers and equipment like it could ever help him do anything. Why had he taken note of Kamui Woods' ultimate move, Lacquered Chain Prison? What would that have realistically done for Izuku, who had no way to replicate any part of that ability? Would he have thrown a mess of rope at a villain threatening lives and hoped it wrapped itself around the bad guy? Or would he have missed entirely, since he'd never worked out a day in his life and most of his exercise was cardio derived from escaping the bullies at school? Izuku had been delusional if he thought knowing how much force Death Arms could exert at full power could help him do literally anything in any situation. Knowing exactly how tall Mt. Lady could become was less than useless to him. He'd have had more luck trying to lick Kacchan's boot and asking to be his secretary once he went pro. Maybe he still had a shot if he caught him on a good day.

Sneakers dragged across the pavement as Izuku began to move. His shoulders sagged, the hot pressure in his chest lessened, and his whole body began to unwind, almost melting into each step as he made his way toward the train station. In no time at all he was far enough away that the scene at the marketplace was left behind, the voices and sounds of destruction vanishing outside his range of hearing. As he walked, a wet, warm sensation trailed down his face. He didn't need to touch his cheeks to know what it was. He'd been fighting against just this for years, so he knew it well, if only as a concept. Izuku had never let himself have this realisation, though it had grated against his mind for a decade. He could hear it in his mind, the hollow voice of the man he'd idolised his entire life, telling him the one thing he'd never thought that man would say.

Without power, can one become a hero? No, I should think not. All Might had said those words when he had been reduced to his true form, the rake thin aftermath of an unexplained fight with a villain five years ago. Izuku's mouth twisted into a frown as he remembered the sight of what was left of his favourite person in the world, how far he really was from the man he portrayed himself to be. The worst part about seeing his hero in that pitiful state was that Izuku had felt bad for him. He had felt bad for All Might. It was a silly notion, one that got a quiet chuckle from him as he kicked a soda can out of his way, a can he'd normally pick up and put in a recycling bin. Realising just how human All Might really was had gotten him feeling sympathy for enduring the everyday pain of existence that came with an injury like All Might's. Izuku had a wound, too, one that was never allowed to heal. It wasn't quite as literal an injury as All Might's, but Izuku had been able to see enough of a parallel between them that he'd actually wanted to comfort All Might in his sickly state. It was too bad that All Might hadn't shown him the same respect and care, as he'd revealed this secretive aspect of himself and then shattered Izuku like a pane of glass in an earthquake. His dream, his will to achieve it, the one thing he derived joy from in life, all gone in an instant, just like the pane of glass was reduced to a fine powder long before the earthquake subsided. Izuku figured it was only natural. That's the nature of an earthquake. That's the nature of a man with power more akin to a god than a mortal being. Just as the earthquake breaks the area it rolls through, so does All Might. Usually, that's deliberately kept to villains, those who knowingly break the rules and are made to pay for that. Earthquakes didn't pick and choose what they broke, though, and today, neither did All Might.

Izuku was home before he knew it. He normally would have stood outside their apartment's door on the second floor balcony, wondering how he was going to explain his lateness to his mother, but he found himself lacking his usual nerves as he opened the door and shut it behind him in one fluid motion, uncaring toward the loud slam that rang out when it closed. He slipped his shoes off due to muscle memory alone, and walked down the hall toward his room, which unfortunately made him pass by the living room, where Izuku's mother, Inko, was waiting for him at the table with a cold plate of chicken and rice set out before her. He didn't turn to look at her, and kept walking, hoping that she'd let him go. He was almost to his room, the hanging name plate bearing the signature tufts of All Might's hair making his stomach churn, when he was stopped in his tracks by a soft call from the kitchen.

"Izuku?" Inko called. "Are you okay, baby?"

He stood in front of his door, his dull gaze pointed at the name plate, and he didn't respond. In the fraction of a moment that he took to consider his next actions, the backpack slung around his shoulders seemed to gain a dozen kilograms of weight for how it dragged his posture down until his shoulders felt like they'd be pulled out of their sockets, and his shoes seemed to catch fire for how the soles of his feet stung and burned and begged him to be free of the sneakers the other kids said he should've grown out of by now, because all the trendy kids wore brand name shoes that Izuku couldn't care less about. He glared at the name plate, as if not blinking would make the fact that it bore every primary colour any less garish set against the brown wood. When had he gotten that? He knew when he had gotten it, it had been when he was five, for his birthday the last time he'd spoken to his father. On second thought, going inside his room sounded like the worst thing he could possibly experience right at that moment. He walked out to the living room and stopped where the hall opened up, looking at his mother with lidded eyes.

"Are you okay, Izuku?" Inko said, standing up. She looked paler than usual, and her hands shook if she didn't press them down on the dining table. "I saw the news, and wondered if you got caught up in the attack down—"

"I'm fine," Izuku said. His voice was flat, unlike he'd ever heard it, and high, like he was on the verge of crying without even being upset. It sounded the way it did in recordings, now that he thought about it — like a much younger boy.

"Are you sure? Don't tell me you were there, Izuku. We talked about this!" Inko said, standing and striding over to meet her son. Once there, she put a gentle hand near his face to brush the hair, which had been getting too long for a while now, out of his face. It was a gentle touch, but he flinched away from it anyway. "Talk to me, baby. Did something happen on the way home? At school?"

"No. Nothing happened," he said. A sharp twinge of something in his chest pierced him when his mother's face scrunched up like it always did when she knew he was lying. "I promise I'm okay. I'm tired," Izuku sighed. The sharp exhalation was against his will, and it threatened to be the crack that made the dam break. A whine escaped him, a half-suppressed sob, and the weight hanging on his shoulders disappeared in favour of a tension keeping them drawn together.

"Oh, Izuku," Inko said. Her hand came up to cup his cheek, and he leaned into it. Her skin was warm against his, and suddenly Izuku was battling a pout as his bottom lip quivered. "Something's wrong. I can see it on your face, Izuku. You can tell me."

"It was—" Izuku gasped. He wanted nothing more than to go to bed and not have to explain everything that he'd heard and seen today, but the warmth of his mother's presence, her touch and her words took him in. The dam flowed forth, and the tears finally flowed after he'd tried his best to keep them in. "It was Kacchan, partly."

Inko's whole body stiffened. Izuku watched a dozen thoughts and feelings flash across her face in less than a second, putting together a picture of what he meant in an instant. Izuku had never told her the true extent of what Kacchan did to him, but she knew that he'd become meaner as he'd gotten older and that he and Izuku weren't exactly the best friends they'd been when they were little kids. He'd let her be content thinking she knew that they were just a little bit more distant than they once had been, not that Kacchan bullied him and put him down every single day for being born lesser. Maybe I am lesser, if I let him walk all over me like that. No clue what I would do about it, though, with that Quirk he's got. Izuku sighed for the millionth time that afternoon.

"Izuku, baby, you know you can talk to me. Right?" Inko asked, her voice shaking.

Izuku looked into his mother's eyes and grimaced. She knew. Of course she did, but Izuku was just then realising it. The look in her eyes, like she was being pulled apart and trying not to cry out in pain, told him that there was no world in which his own mother did not know what had been going on with him. Izuku guessed he should've felt embarrassed or ashamed of hiding things from his mother, or maybe fear of being scolded, but if he was being honest with himself, he was just tired; tired of the insults, the jokes that weren't jokes and the teachers that turned a blind eye; tired of lying, saying that he was fine when little cracks in his foundation got hammered on, day after day; tired of a world that didn't want him because of something he couldn't control. Izuku was tired. He sagged into his mother's arms, and even though he was taller than her now, Inko had no problem keeping him upright as she hooked her arms under his and hugged him close to her. Little cracks widened to floodgates and Izuku struggled to keep the tears from flowing.

"It's okay, Izuku. Let's sit, alright?" she said, and Izuku all but collapsed into a chair opposite his mother at the table. "What's going on, baby? What happened?"

"I don't usually take him seriously, but Kacchan has been getting worse lately. Saying meaner stuff, pushing me around a little more, but … never like that," Izuku said with a deep frown on his face. He almost reflexively blocked out the memory, but he was already talking, and he couldn't stop the overwhelming rush of thoughts and feelings that flowed out of him. Inko took his hand across the table, and it made his shoulders feel a bit lighter at the assurance that she was still there. He felt childish crying to his mother about this, but that feeling was drowned out by everything else. "He said … he told me that I should kill myself."

Inko gasped, and Izuku wondered if she even attempted to stop the tears nowadays as they immediately started to streak down her face. She got up and stepped over to wrap Izuku in her arms as she kissed the top of his head. Izuku figured any other teen would've hated that, but he leaned into his mother's embrace and breathed deeply and blinked quickly to keep the tears from blurring his vision. Admitting what he'd been told earlier that day felt like his heart was being torn out of his chest, but it was as if some heavy poison that had been injected into his veins had gone with it, and his whole body was numb at the sensation of release that washed over Izuku in that moment. He lost count of how many times he sighed, sobbed and caught his breath after it hitched. Izuku simply released everything.

"He came up to me and said that if I really wanted to be a hero so badly, that I should kill myself and hope for one in my next life," Izuku sobbed. "He smiled at me and said it. Like it was nothing."

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry you had to hear that, Izuku. What could've made him say such a vile thing?" Inko said, raking her hand through his wild hair as she soothed him.

"It was the teacher. Mr Miorosu was talking about high school applications, and, well … UA came up," Izuku said. He had to swallow his fear any time he wanted to talk to his mother about UA as anything more than a place in the city, and he'd learned long ago to not bring up his desire to attend their hero course. That just made her cry. He was putting all his cards on the table, though, so he didn't think he had much choice in the matter.

"Some children can be so cruel," Inko hissed. "But …"

Izuku could tell something was different. He'd never known his mother to get angry. Ever since he was a little kid, she'd always had the patience of a saint, even after his twentieth rewatch of All Might's debut video on hour three of his hour-long computer session, reloading YoTube over and over again as he started to burn an image onto the computer monitor. As he looked up into his mother's face, though, Izuku realised she wasn't angry at him, like he'd originally feared. She seemed not to register that he'd implied he was still thinking about picking UA for high-school. Inko was glaring at a spot on the wall as if she could set it ablaze with her feelings alone. From what Izuku remembered, that was closer to his father's expertise, but Izuku thought that out of anybody who could be the first person to manifest two completely unrelated Quirks purely out of rage, his mother was on the shortlist as she stared past him with a hard expression.

"Izuku, I know it's hard for you, but … about UA," she said haltingly. "After all this time, after what you've told me tonight. Do you still want it? To be a hero?"

The look on her face was unreadable to Izuku. Was she mad at him for still having that dream? Could she be telling him with that question that she thought he couldn't do it? What if he told her that he did still want it? Would she let him down easy and try to talk him into general education at UA — because UA is still UA! — or would she deny him his wish like everyone else? Izuku thought he knew the answer, but didn't want to say it out loud in case his cosmically bad luck chose that moment to intervene. It was killing him that his usually bubbly, expressive mother was acting so subdued and serious. He wanted her to make a joke, to say anything, but she was waiting for his answer. He couldn't give it. He didn't know that if he spoke, it would be the truth. After everything he'd seen, both throughout his childhood and earlier that day with Kacchan and All Might, did he still want to go to UA and be a hero? Giving up certainly had an allure after the day he'd had, but would he be able to live with himself if he took that road? No. That much was clear. He was fourteen, an age that a lot of people started taking their aspirations seriously. Was he ready to venture into no man's land and commit to the farfetched ideals he'd carried with him since pre-school? Izuku didn't know, but the future waited on no man, and he was even less than a man, so he spoke.

"Yes. I want it. It's all I've ever wanted." It shocked Izuku that it still registered as the truth. He didn't know if he'd been changed by what he'd seen and heard. He'd barely gotten over the initial shock so far. But his heart still did hammer in his chest when he confessed his desire. Even if he woke up tomorrow wanting to be a salaryman for the rest of his life, he still hadn't uttered a lie. Heroism was all he'd ever wanted.

Inko sighed, a small smile on her face as she looked down at her darling boy, like she'd known the answer all along. Izuku thought that she had, and had just wanted him to say it after he'd been ridiculed and taunted and despised for that very thing. He was safe with her to speak what his heart knew, and that revelation brought him to tears once again. He cried as he hugged his mother tightly, as if she'd disappear if he let her go. He couldn't seem to find the foundation that he'd anchored himself to before, but he was unsure that it was a bad thing that he'd lost his footing in the overflow of suppressed adolescent emotions. Izuku let it all drain out of him, and only stopped when a phone rang in the living room.

His mother didn't initially make a move to answer the phone, but as Izuku gathered his composure after his miniature breakdown, he urged her to go and pick it up. She did so, leaving Izuku alone with his thoughts. I'll do it. I'll prove them all wrong. Mr Miorosu, Kacchan, All Might — I don't care what they think about me. I never wanted to be a hero for approval, anyway. I'll help people, and be the greatest hero in the world without a Quirk. Izuku wasn't sure that he'd be able to live up to those words, but he felt energised as he thought about trying. He couldn't smile about it yet, but he knew what he had to do now; he had to train.

"Izuku?" Inko called from the living room. He got up and stepped out of the kitchen, pausing when he took in her tense, tearful look. "Honey, it's Mitsuki."

Izuku's heart pounded in his chest. He did not want to talk to Kacchan. He didn't want to see him, maybe ever again. He'd had empathy for the other boy when he'd had expectations placed on him because his Quirk was so good, but what he'd said that afternoon was too far. Izuku thought himself to be kind, but if this was where it got him, then there had to be limits to kindness sometimes. As he opened his mouth to say just that, Izuku was frozen by the wide-eyed terror that had overcome his mother's expression. Something was wrong. He couldn't remember seeing his mother so scared before, not even when he'd fallen out of a tree and almost broke his leg when he was eight. The only thing he could think of that would make her look so grief-stricken was when she found out that Izuku's dad wasn't going to be coming home again. What in the world is happening? Izuku didn't get a chance to ask, as Inko's shaky voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"Katsuki's at the hospital. Something to do with a villain. He might not make it."

"What?" Izuku asked over the ringing in his ears.

His eyes had lost their focus. Izuku couldn't see any further than a few metres in front of him. What had his mother just said? Something about Kacchan. He didn't think he wanted to talk to Kacchan today. No, wait … there was also something about a villain. They didn't think he'd make it. Make it where? The last Izuku had seen of Kacchan, he'd been leaving the classroom after telling Izuku to kill himself, and he'd been well on his way by the time Izuku had finally left school earlier that afternoon. No, that wasn't it, either. Was it possible that … no. Katsuki Bakugo was the strongest person Izuku knew. He wouldn't lose. A villain attack. The only one that had been anywhere close was the one Izuku had walked by, and … oh, no.

"What … what kind of villain attack was it?" Izuku's voice shook as he forced himself to stay calm.

Inko walked over to the living room and summoned the television remote with her Quirk. She turned the TV on and it was already on a news channel. The scene depicted by the TV confirmed Izuku's fear. The point of view was up high, likely from within a helicopter, looking down upon a marketplace that Izuku recognised. It was the marketplace he'd wandered past on his way home and ignored. There had been an incident there, some kind of villain attack, but he hadn't had the will to investigate because what would the point of it be? What would he gain by sticking around? Izuku read the scrolling text at the bottom of the screen, and could have thrown up at what he found there. 14-year-old middle-school student in critical condition after escaping slimy villain. A slimy villain? That meant … Izuku had encountered a villain earlier that day, a person made entirely out of stinking sludge, who had enveloped Izuku in his own body and had tried to push his fluid form into Izuku's own body to hide. All Might had saved him, which had allowed the two of them to meet and … and then Izuku's dreams had gotten crushed by the man who'd sparked them in the first place. Was it that same villain, then? How? All Might had — wait. When All Might had unwillfully brought him up into the sky upon the hero's exit, Izuku had clutched onto the Symbol of Peace's leg, and now that he thought about it, something had shifted at that time. Had that been the bottle All Might had contained the villain within? Was that attack … Is this my fault?

"Our information about the boy the villain took hostage, 14-year-old Katsuki Bakugo, is unclear. The few sources we have tell us that he may not survive to see tomorrow. Please, those of you watching at home, pray that a child's life is not snuffed out in such a cruel way today," said the reporter on the screen, a young woman with brown hair tied up in a ponytail. "Luckily, pro heroes Kamui Woods, Mt. Lady and Air Jet were there to defeat the slime villain and rush the boy to hospital. After the boy's safety had been as assured as it could be, civilians at the scene applauded the efforts of those three heroes, claiming that they deserve the highest reward possible for fighting through natural disadvantages and potentially saving the young Katsuki Bakugo's life. "

Izuku tuned out what the TV was saying after that. They had potentially saved his life, so they deserved a reward? He felt so sick that he couldn't bear to hear any more about Kacchan from strangers who'd never cared about him before twenty minutes ago. He turned to his mother and searched for any kind of falsehood in her expression, but there was none. This was real. The news hadn't been lying, and Kacchan, his first and only friend, may have been dying across town as Izuku stood there processing that reality. His heart hammered in his chest, and he fought to keep the tears from coming. This was his fault. He must've knocked the villain out of All Might's pocket. That meant that if Kacchan died, Izuku would be the one who killed him. He suddenly began to hyperventilate, ragged shallow breaths flowing in and out of his lungs too fast for him to catch his breath properly.

"I'm sorry, Izuku," Inko said.

I'm sorry, Izuku.

"No!" he whimpered. That had been the same thing she'd said on the day he'd been told to give up on his dreams by the doctor who diagnosed his Quirklessness. "We have to go see him. I have to see him!"

"That's why Mitsuki was calling. They've asked if we can meet them at the hospital. Are you sure you want to go, though? With everything you've told me—" Inko tried to say.

"I don't care. I need to see him," Izuku said, shaking from head to toe from the mix of emotions.

Inko gave him a wary look. She looked like she was holding something back, like there was something she wanted to say but couldn't. Izuku felt the same way. There was something he wanted to say, too, but he needed to say them to someone specific — Kacchan. Izuku would never be able to live with himself if he didn't get to say what he'd been bottling up for years and years. Finally, Inko sighed, and all the willpower in her body seemed to vanish at once.

"Alright, Izuku. Let's go."

The drive over was silent. Neither of them said a word. Their arrival at the hospital was uneventful, though they had to push in past news crews and cameras. Izuku followed his mother through the sterile halls in a daze, like he wasn't truly in control of his body. That made for two times in one day. Inko did all of the talking, and eventually, they were led to a small room by a nurse who'd apparently been told to let them through. The room was just as white as the rest of the building, with black chairs and a dark window that took up the majority of one wall. Standing at the window were Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugo, who looked like they'd aged a decade in the last few months since Izuku had seen them. Mitsuki was silent and still for the first time that Izuku had ever seen, and for once, her skin was pale and sweaty, and wrinkled around the eyes. Izuku figured her Quirk, Glycerin, prevented skin blemishes no matter what, but severe stress may have been one of the things that sent her Quirk into dysfunction. Masaru, on the other hand, was in the most animated and emotional state he'd ever been brought to. He paced the length of the room while muttering things to himself and wringing his hands, which detonated his Acid Sweat Quirk causing little sparks to crackle around his hands.

Inko immediately went over and embraced Mitsuki, who broke down once someone broke her out of the trance that kept her eyes locked on the window. Izuku walked over and looked through the window in her place, and balled his hands up into fists at what he saw. Katsuki Bakugo was awake. He was staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression on his face, not even frowning or making little firecrackers with his Quirk to let off steam. The heart monitor beeped at his side, and the artificial lung wheezed as it pushed air into his chest through his mouth. That couldn't be right. The top of his head was wrapped up in bandages so that only jagged tufts of his hair and one eye showed through. Izuku had never thought he'd ever see Kacchan like this, beaten and on life support. It was so against the image of Katsuki Bakugo that he had in his head that at first his mind tried to reject what he was seeing. Kacchan would never lose to some two-bit thug. That's what he always said, but now, the reality was that he may not live to see tomorrow, and Izuku didn't know what to say. He felt a hand fall on his shoulder, and was broken out of his stunned silence when he saw Masaru beside him. The hand on his shoulder was warm, but it didn't detonate.

"They say the villain did something to him. His organs are failing — lungs, mostly. His heart was also weakened by whatever that monster did. Katsuki was trapped under a layer of liquid, so he didn't get oxygen for a long time, so … even if he survives, the doctors don't think he'll be the same as he was," Masaru explained.

Five minutes of not breathing sounded like torture to Izuku. A helpful part of his mind reminded him that it was. Then, Izuku realised what must have happened. The slime villain had attacked Izuku first, and had spoken about how it had wanted Izuku's body to hide in. It had tried to push its fluid body in through Izuku's nose and mouth, and kept calling him a puppet. Had the villain tried the same thing with Kacchan? Had the slime villain tried to possess him, and that was why his organs were failing even after he'd been rescued? It might have been possible that the villain had gotten so far along in taking over Kacchan's body that it just couldn't survive now without him. Izuku had thought his experience with the villain had been bad, being choked by the slime for about a minute — he considered himself lucky after hearing about what Kacchan had gone through, what he was still going through. His body was simply giving out after such an extreme, traumatic experience. The irrational part of Izuku's brain thought that they should get the villain to complete the process so Kacchan could live, but the logical part of him knew that would just be another kind of death. Only the villain would remain if that happened.

"He's going to live!" Mitsuki said. Her voice broke, and Izuku could tell that she knew what was happening, but just wanted to believe her son would survive. "Don't you dare say he's not gonna make it, Masaru."

"Of course, Mitsuki."

Izuku walked up to the glass and sighed. What could he possibly say? He had never been able to get through to Kacchan before, but maybe they could understand each other now. Maybe they'd be able to put aside how messed up their relationship had gotten. Izuku had never imagined a world in which Kacchan wasn't going to become the next top hero. He'd never imagined a world in which Kacchan lost anything ever. He was a winner, Izuku's image of perfect victory in his mind. But now that world he had in his mind was crumbling apart, and Izuku was powerless to stop it. Despite how much distance had come between them over the last few years, Izuku had always hoped that they could rekindle the friendship that had brought them together. Despite all the teasing, name-calling, bullying, and everything, Izuku had hoped that they could mend what had been broken all that time ago and be friends once again. He'd really believed they had a shot at reclaiming that childhood connection. That may not have been possible, though, after this. This was something he had never anticipated. This was the worst case scenario, and Izuku was lost. He didn't know what he could possibly do or say to make Kacchan see what he wanted him to see. Maybe just being there was enough. Maybe.

"Is it possible for me to talk to him?" Izuku asked. The adults all looked at him with differing amounts of pity in their eyes.

"We've been to talk to him, but we don't want him seeing us like this, so we stepped out for a moment, and that's when you arrived. The doctors said that they've applied all the healing Quirks they have. If he doesn't see much progress within the next hour, they'll do surgery. So you have some time before they come back to check up on Katsuki. It might not be a lot, though, so please hurry," Masaru said.

Izuku nodded and walked over to the door that led into the nearly silent room. The only sounds were the beeping of the heart monitor and the wheezing of the artificial lung. Izuku approached the bed Kacchan was in and frowned as he tried to keep tears from running down his face. Up close, Izuku saw just how poorly Kacchan was really doing. His skin was paper white and his eyes were dull. He seemed to be technically conscious, as his eyes met Izuku's when he got close enough, but there was almost no recognition in there, no sign that the old Kacchan was still awake. Izuku clenched his fists, and kept himself from breaking down. He had to say it.

"Kacchan—"

"What are you … doing here … Deku?" Kacchan asked in a raspy, flat voice. He was still there! "Did you … come here … to brag?"

Izuku sighed heavily. "Do you really still think I hate you after all these years?"

"Why else …?" Kacchan didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't need to. Izuku got the message.

"Why not?" Izuku asked. "If I hated you, I'd go far away and stay there. I respect you — parts of you."

"Bull … crap," Kacchan wheezed.

"It's the truth. You're effortlessly good at everything you try, you have a Quirk that's flashy and powerful, and you have the power to sway people to do what you want. In a way, you're the person I wish I was. The image of perfection, the person I see when I imagine inevitable victory. But you're also mean, and vindictive. You're rude and violent. You're cruel, Kacchan. You're a person I never want to become, a person I never wanted you to become. Do you want to know why I stuck around you all these years?"

"Because you're … weak. You need me … to be close … to real strength," Kacchan said. Izuku almost teared up again as he learned just what his childhood friend thought of him.

"It's because I wanted to surpass you. I had this gifted future hero in my life and I wanted to be better than you. All Might may have shown me what a strong hero can achieve, but he was already a hero when he debuted. You showed me that a hero can come from anywhere, that you can be strong because you want to be, not because you're born that way," Izuku said.

"I was … born strong," Katsuki mumbled.

"Do you think your Explosion would be what it is today if you never trained it? If you never practised, your Quirk would be exactly the same as it is now?" Izuku asked. Katsuki didn't answer, but his eyes regained a bit of their heat. "I know you put in effort to be strong. You're strong because you want to be, so you worked hard and made your wish into reality. And that's what heroes do, after all. I believe you could become a top hero one day. But for that to happen you have to live. You became strong because you chose strength, so choose life and live!"

"What's your … angle, Deku?"

"All my life, for better or for worse, you've been a guiding light for me. You've always defined what I was and wasn't capable of. If you live, you'll become the greatest hero in the world. You'll prove that a nobody can become the greatest in the world. You'll prove that even an ordinary person — like you and me — can become extraordinary. If you can't do it, then what chance do I have?" Izuku couldn't hold it in anymore. A few tears fell onto the front of his shirt as he let his head hang.

"Do you know … why I … hate you?" Kacchan asked.

Izuku's jaw tightened, but he spoke. "I'm Quirkless. I'm weak. But I want to be a hero anyway."

"It's because … you gave up." Izuku almost physically recoiled at that. What? Kacchan took deep breaths for a few moments, and when he continued speaking, his voice sounded a tiny bit smoother. "When I got serious about the hero thing … I hit a wall. My Quirk wouldn't … get stronger. But I forced it past … that limit. Nothing changes … until you force it. I don't hate you because … your body is weak. I don't hate you … for having no Quirk. I hate you, Deku … because you saw a wall … and refused … to climb it." Kacchan coughed, and the wet sound made Izuku cringe. "Your mind is … weak. Which means you're … weak. That's it. You act all … sure that it's … possible for you. But you never … trained. You never … pushed yourself. You never … tried. I did. That's the difference … between you and me. You're the weakest … kind of person … because you never tried … to become strong. You just talked about strength … like you knew what that was. That's why I'm … better than you … and always will be."

Kacchan's whole body relaxed into his bed, and Izuku realised that he'd been trying to sit up. He sensed that Kacchan wasn't going to listen to anything else from him, and turned to leave. He walked to the door and paused there, waiting to see if Kacchan called out to him or anything for a final remark, but he didn't. Izuku exited the room and rejoined their parents in the visitors' lounge. He sat down and stared at the ground. His mother, or Kacchan's parents might have tried to talk to him, might have tried to ask him what they had talked about in there, but Izuku didn't hear them if they did. Instead, his ears rang again, like they had back at home, and Izuku completely retreated to his mind and he considered the meaning behind Kacchan's confession.

That was the longest conversation about their feelings that he and Kacchan had had in years. Maybe ever. It was certainly the first time Izuku had been honest about why he still tried to make peace with the other boy. But it had left him rattled. I don't hate you because you have no Quirk. That had been the first blow to his ego. Izuku had always maintained that he was just as likely to be hero material as Kacchan was, because there was more to being a hero than having a Quirk. No, but it does require strength, which I also lacked, he realised. I never even tried weightlifting, endurance running — anything that would've increased my physical abilities. Instead, I relied on the notebooks, and what are they worth? There's no way to apply the powers detailed inside to myself. Have I been using it as a crutch this whole time, to avoid admitting that I had no chance? Izuku's mind reeled from those realisations, and he almost started hyperventilating again when he began to unravel his own hopeless logic, but managed to calm himself down before he had a meltdown.

What was he supposed to do after having the foundation of his entire worldview shattered? First, his encounter with All Might, which he hadn't even told anyone about yet, had left him heartbroken and confused, and then Kacchan had used what might be their final conversation to mercilessly pick apart the logic Izuku had been using to convince himself that something impossible was possible. What did they want him to do? Give up? Well, Izuku was done with that. He'd hated hearing it, but Kacchan had been right when he called Izuku weak. He was weak. He had never in his life attempted to be strong. That changed right then and there. He'd been kicked around enough in one day for his rattled brain to call it quits. Strangely, Izuku didn't hate Kacchan for saying those harsh things. He did hate that way he'd said it, but Izuku thought it was a message that he needed to hear. The same went with All Might — he didn't hate All Might for saying that Izuku couldn't be a hero without a Quirk, because he was right. Izuku as he was could never hope to achieve anything, because he was too busy lying to himself and feeling sorry for himself for getting bullied. Someone who was stronger than Izuku, someone who could stand up to the world and tell it that it was wrong, someone who would get up without fail every time they were knocked down — they could be a hero. Izuku could be that person, but it would take effort — effort he was willing to put in to become the best version of himself, the greatest hero in the world.

Izuku's awareness sharpened as the beeping of Kacchan's heart monitor picked up speed. He stood up in an instant as doctors rushed into the room, entering through a door Izuku hadn't seen before on the other side of Kacchan's room. Mitsuki tried to go in, but the doctors ushered her back out and locked their door. Izuku's heart hammered against his ribs as he looked inside. Kacchan's whole body was somehow tense and limp at the same time, and he was twitching. Is he dying!? Izuku tried to swallow his fear, but a lump in his throat formed that made it difficult. He started fidgeting with his hands, but not worse than Masaru, who began to rub his hands together and detonate small pops and firecrackers once again.

They began surgery, and Izuku couldn't bear to watch. He didn't have the stomach for that. He took a seat once again, and the adults soon joined him. Izuku had no idea how much time passed after that. All he knew was that his mother took hold of his hand and he had something like an out-of-body experience. His vision slowly faded out until everything was dark, and he realised what was happening in the moment before he fell asleep. He was exhausted from a long day of being dragged through the mud by his rotten luck. He passed out in his mother's arms. He had dreams of plastic skeletons chasing him through a minefield.

"Izuku?" Inko muttered, jarring him awake.

A doctor had joined them. He was tall and thin, and the doctor's hollow eyes swept across the four of them with no emotion registering in them. The doctor sighed, and Izuku noticed that there was a little line of red running down his chest that ruined the white sterility of his scrubs.

"I'm sorry."

No.

"I'm not sure what happened."

This couldn't be happening.

"He rejected our healing Quirks. They were vital if surgery had a chance at saving him."

No.

"So he's … dead?" Mitsuki asked. She was usually so spirited and energetic that she sounded like a completely different person with that brittle, shattered voice.

"I'm afraid so. I'm so sorry for your loss, ma'am, sir. We regret not being able to do more for your son — I hear he was an exceptional child."

"Thank you, doctor," Masaru said. He sounded empty.

The doctor left.

The next few hours passed by in a blur, even more than they already were passing quickly. Mitsuki was stunned into silence, but Masaru blew up a chair on the opposite side of the room. Inko's chair crumpled in on itself slightly, then she got a nosebleed, but there was no outward sign of emotion from her after that. Izuku just sat there, realising that even when he'd been speaking to Kacchan, it hadn't really registered with him yet that his first and only friend was dying. Izuku had had so many questions that he'd intended to ask him when he was better, follow-up questions about how exactly he thought Izuku could change, but that was all gone now.

Katsuki Bakugo was gone.

---

The weeks after Katsuki Bakugo's death passed quickly.

Izuku felt as though no time at all was passing, and that all the time in the world could not separate him from his childhood friend's demise due to his own actions. He could focus on the fish he'd eat at dinner, or the pencil in his hand when he returned to school, or the television in front of him during his free time. When it was quiet, and when there was no one else around was when it became unbearable. Izuku would blink, and he would see the dark fluid of the Sludge Villain, as the media had creatively named him. When it was quiet, he'd hear the beeping of the EKG machine, sounding off at a comfortable rhythm, only to go silent with no warning. Izuku would walk through the halls at school and flinch every time a loud noise went off near him. It always started with a bang like that. No bullies came to attack him, though. It took him a few days to figure out that it was never going to be Kacchan that looked at him like he'd died and come back to life every time he entered the classroom. Some days, he wished he had, just so that he would get rid of the weight in his chest that got heavier and heavier all the time — the weight of having ended the life of his first friend.

Food didn't taste as good anymore, not even his favourites. Izuku's appetite withered away, and he ended up eating only when his mother was watching at dinner. Over the weeks that followed, Izuku's arms and legs became even thinner than they had been previously, and his face began to feel tight, like his skin was being stretched thin. His eyes were dark whenever he examined them in the mirror, and his skin was sallow and dry. In the rare times he let himself be seen without a shirt on, his mother and his classmates during gym class remarked upon how visible his ribs were. The other kids were meaner about it than his sweet mother, but he never remembered what any of them said. Izuku found himself unable to focus at school, which earned him a stern talking to from his teachers more than a few times. The first test of the school year passed Izuku by, and he found himself with a seventy-two per cent, which was a barely passing grade. He didn't remember taking the test as he sat staring at his grade, and he didn't remember the grade by the time he told his mother about it in a monotone voice at dinner. Dinner became one of the only times the mother and son spoke to one another, since Inko worked and Izuku was locked away in his room all day when he wasn't at school.

Being in his room wasn't an escape from this string of behaviours, though. Izuku often went nights without sleep, and slept during the day on weekends. His mother had picked up on it fairly quickly, but she'd never learn the reason. The truth behind Izuku's loss of sleep and lack of enthusiasm at home was that everywhere he looked, All Might stared back at him, unblinking, unforgiving. Previously, Izuku had found comfort in that. All Might was his idol, the ideal image of who he wanted to be someday. After Izuku had met the man behind the merchandise, though, that image had shattered. An old, bitter man who had been beaten down by a title much bigger than he was, who kept being a hero only because that's what he'd been for decades. That's what All Might was. It was impossible for Izuku to look at any of the depictions of All Might in his home without remembering what exactly he'd said to him that day on the rooftop. Without power, can one become a hero? No, I should think not. Every time he met the eyes of the man who had shattered his future, broken his dream apart with those few words, the pain was as if it had just happened, as if the words were still fresh out of All Might's mouth. He was still just the trembling little kid up on that rooftop, left to his own devices. The ledge had been right there. Kacchan's words had wrung in his head. You wanna be a hero so bad? I've got a time-saving idea for you. Izuku had tried to block it out, but there was nothing he could do in his shattered state to prevent the dare from ringing in his ears as if Kacchan had been right there with him. If you think you'll have a Quirk in your next life, go take a swan dive off the roof! The words hadn't compelled him to do anything, but Izuku had been painfully aware of the option. The person he respected the most in the world had legitimised everything the person he hated the most had been saying for years and years. Izuku hadn't been very optimistic standing on that rooftop. He hadn't been much of anything. He still wasn't.

April twentieth arrived quickly. It had seemed like a random morning to Izuku when he woke up, but when his mother came knocking at his door and told him that Kacchan's parents had come around, he remembered what that day was supposed to have been. It was Katsuki Bakugo's birthday — or, it would've been if he had been alive. Izuku assured his mother that he would come out of his room and greet their guests like the good kid he was and then went to the bathroom and dry heaved for five minutes. There was no food in his stomach, so he wasn't throwing up, but his stomach would not calm down. Izuku's heart hammered in his chest at the thought of facing the Bakugos after what he'd done to their son. He could imagine Mitsuki, angry and violent, slapping him in the face for getting her son killed. Masaru might have used his Quirk to give Izuku an exploding punch in the stomach. He would've deserved anything they gave him. He was scared, though. He was scared of seeing their faces as they mourned their son, knowing that they were sharing lunch with the boy who'd gotten him killed. Even if they didn't know or think that, Izuku didn't think he could live with knowing it himself. He took his time showering and making himself presentable before emerging from the back of their little apartment. He tried to coach himself through the beginning stage of a panic attack as his chest tightened and his mind went blank, and ignored it as he sat at a table opposite his mother, beside each parent of the boy he'd killed.

Conversation happened around Izuku, but he heard none of it until his name was said while his mother was off making tea.

"Izuku?" Masaru said.

Izuku blinked and snapped out of a daze. "Yes?" he asked. His voice was hoarse. He didn't do a lot of talking as of late.

"How are you?" Masaru asked. He looked at Izuku with a glimmer of hurt in his eye, and something else that Izuku didn't like.

"Good," Izuku wheezed.

"That's … good," Masaru said. He clearly had something he wanted to say, but didn't. "Are you sure? I know it can be hard to open up to adults, especially adults who aren't your parents, but you're not alone in this. Okay? If you ever want to talk, whether it's about …" Masaru hesitated. "Whether it's about Katsuki—" Izuku flinched. "—or not, Mitsuki and I are both here for you. Alright?"

"Yes, sir," Izuku replied automatically. "I'm really fine." The lie tasted bitter.

Izuku looked at Masaru and really saw him for the first time since that day. His eyes were red and watery; he must have been crying earlier. His hair was less spiky than usual, flatter against his head. The smile was not what Izuku expected. Masaru showed him a smile that had to be forced, a sad little grimace that nonetheless turned up at the corners. He put a warm hand on Izuku's shoulder, and for the first time ever, Izuku's mind did not immediately supply him with the details of the man's Quirk. He hadn't written in his notebooks since he'd met All Might either. It seemed that reflex was dead. Looking over at Masaru, Izuku's chest swelled with some feeling he couldn't name. He'd never known his father — Hisashi Midoriya had spent Izuku's entire life working overseas. The money he made over the ocean in America allowed Izuku and his mother comfort and stability, but it had cost them a father and a husband respectively. Izuku didn't know that it was worth it. But something about Masaru had always been comforting to Izuku. Back when they'd been good friends, before he'd gotten his Quirk and Izuku hadn't, Kacchan would often invite Izuku back to his house to read comics or watch movies about heroes or play with Kacchan's collection of All Might memorabilia. Masaru would supervise, play with them, ask them questions about the hero movies they'd watch, and more. The man before him had once been the largest male presence in Izuku's life. He wouldn't go so far as to say that Masaru was like a father to him, because they weren't nearly that close anymore, but that look in his eyes, the glimmer of something deeper that Izuku couldn't have named previously, it told Izuku that Masaru remembered that, too. None of that had been forgotten, despite how much time had passed.

"I'm … sorry," Izuku said. He didn't mean to, but it was what came out of his mouth as he tried to keep himself composed. His heart wouldn't slow down, and his lungs burned as if he'd run a kilometre for gym class. He refused to cry, not in front of them — they were the ones who were suffering, and he was the one who'd caused it. He didn't get to cry.

"Sorry for what?" Masaru said. He looked at Izuku like it was silly for him to be apologising, which just made his chest hurt worse. "Izuku, what are you sorry for?"

"I-It's my fault. Kacchan … it's my fault," Izuku said between gasps of air. He didn't manage to stop himself from crying, and he broke down completely after forcing himself to confess.

Masaru kept his strong, warm hand on Izuku's shoulder, and it was something to focus on other than the heavy ball of lead that had replaced his heart, weighing him down and crossing all his wires. Izuku crumpled into himself, crying into his own hands as he covered his face. He suddenly felt smaller hands on his head, and looked back up. Mitsuki had gotten up and was in the middle of wrapping Izuku in the tightest, warmest hug he'd ever gotten from her. In the past, Izuku had often gotten embarrassed, or punched by Kacchan, whenever Mitsuki had hugged him, given that she loved a low-cut shirt. Now, he didn't even think about it as he sat still and accepted the hug. The Bakugos comforted Izuku — that wasn't how it should have happened. He should be the one begging for their forgiveness, making them understand how his actions had gotten their son killed. But they were the ones comforting him, holding him, giving him the space to feel what he needed to feel and say what he wanted to say. He hadn't been comfortable enough to do that with his own mother, because there'd been a wall between them lately. After she'd asked him if he really still wanted to become a hero, and Izuku had answered yes, Inko hadn't gotten to respond to that before they'd gotten swept up by the news about Kacchan. They hadn't resumed that conversation, and Izuku didn't want to. It was clear to him now that he couldn't be a hero. He'd thought before that he should dig in his heels when the whole world said something he disagreed with. Now, he thought it was a sign.

"It's okay. Whatever you think you did, we forgive you. No matter what," Masaru said.

"You don't understand. I'm the reason … that villain never would've had the chance if I hadn't … I killed him. Blame me. Yell, say anything but that you're sorry. I'm sorry. I met that villain earlier that day. He attacked me, too. But A— … a hero saved me. But then I was stupid and made it possible for that guy to escape! You should hate me. I don't deserve your forgiveness," Izuku rambled. He hugged Mitsuki back as he spoke, which defeated the message of his sobbing rant, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Izuku. We're sorry that you've had to carry this. We should have come and spoken to you sooner," Masaru said, his voice shaking and his eyes watering.

"Look," Mitsuki said. She sat back down. The fierceness of her expression kept Izuku from looking away or interrupting her. She looked just like Kacchan when he got fired up and wanted to win at whatever game they'd play during gym class. Izuku had never really noted just how much of a carbon copy of his mother Kacchan had been. "It doesn't matter now. That slime bastard was going to kill someone regardless. He was going to kill you, apparently. You can't blame yourself for the wrongdoings of others. That's a recipe for disaster, kid. What you can do is try to control what you can, and you can control yourself. Look at yourself. Are you even eating? Sleeping? I figure you're beating yourself up so hard about Katsuki that you've got one foot in the grave, too."

Izuku went to interject at that, but Mitsuki silenced him with a look. "Don't tell me you're fine, kid. I can see it on your face that you're not. We've gotten the rundown from your mom, too, so you couldn't lie, even if you wanted to, which I know you don't. What good will it do, Izuku? Tormenting yourself, day after day. What's the goal? Do you have an answer?"

He looked at her and frowned. "Someone has to pay."

"That slime guy is, right now. He's off in some prison being miserable. And you're still letting him make you miserable, too. The man who …" Mitsuki let herself cry. "The villain who killed our son is getting what he deserves. But you don't deserve what you think you do. You're the little boy who stayed by our son's side all those years, who had faith that he could be a great hero that whole time. I know Katsuki wasn't always the kindest kid, or the most compassionate, but you saw the best in him, even if we all know you saw a lot of bad, too. I don't think either of us could live with ourselves if we didn't thank you, Izuku. Thank you for being Katsuki's friend, even if he didn't acknowledge that was what you were."

Izuku didn't think he could ever cry hard enough to fully express the depth of his relief, nor the complexity of his grief. Kacchan's parents, the people Izuku thought would hate him forever, reached into his heart and washed away all the guilt, sorrow, and pain he'd been drowning in for the past few weeks. He let himself simply cry with them. As a group, they mourned the loss of the uniting factor in their lives, and it was good. It did not feel good, but all three of them came to an unspoken agreement that it was good for them to feel this hurt, to be broken by this so that they could know that the loss was real and valid. Izuku had not had an emotional release that complete in a very long time, and he kept it to himself that he used this time to also vent all of his negative feelings toward Kacchan out and into the aether as well.

Katsuki Bakugo was gone, so it would do no good to hold onto the sour emotions he felt toward his old friend. Those feelings had all been clumped together in his mind so that he could see no way to untangle the good from the bad, but he tried. For a long time, the things Izuku had thought about Katsuki Bakugo had been tied to his image of himself. The things he respected about Kacchan were the things Izuku himself lacked — strength, diligence, self-confidence. Izuku was weak, he had put no effort forth to train his body for heroics, and deep down, down in the place in his heart where he put the thoughts he didn't like to think, Izuku hadn't thought he would be able to be a hero. What he hated were the things Kacchan lacked that Izuku had — Kacchan was cruel, he was violent, and his desire to be a hero stemmed from the image of All Might he had in his head of a person who always won in a fight against bad guys, no matter what. On the other hand, Izuku had empathy for others having a tough time, he'd never once tried to solve his problems with his fists, and Izuku's desire to be a hero also stemmed from All Might, but it was the incredible kindness that his strength allowed him to express that pulled Izuku in, that fueled his painfully strong desire to help the helpless. He could've said that Kacchan had been selfish and Izuku himself was selfless, but that wasn't exactly it, either. Izuku's goal did have a touch of self-interest to it — he wanted to be the greatest hero in the world because it would give him peace of mind. To be number one was to be the strongest, so he wouldn't live his life terrified that some bully would go too far one day and do something that couldn't be undone. It was self-preservation, partly. It was his heart's primary want, however, to be able to bring a smile to someone's face simply by arriving to help them out when they've been dealt an unfortunate hand. Izuku's greatest wish and fatal flaw was that he wanted something he couldn't have.

He let it go. He let it all go, from the hatred of Kacchan's flaws to the admiration of his strengths, and even the desire to be the greatest hero the world has ever seen. None of those things mattered anymore. He would never be able to express those feelings, those desires. Katsuki Bakugo was gone, and Izuku Midoriya was Quirkless. He'd never get closure on either of the two things he'd longed for all his life, the friendship he'd lost and the dream that had been shattered. He did not, however, let something very simple yet fundamental out of his grasp just yet. Izuku kept his heart. He kept the compassion, the empathy, the kindness, and the profound humanity that had allowed him to withstand the harsh world he'd spent ten years surviving. He could not be All Might. Izuku Midoriya would never be the greatest hero the world had ever seen. That did not mean that he could live with himself if he gave up then and there. That did not mean he had given himself permission to stay the weakling he was. In no world did that mean that his fire had been snuffed out. Izuku was going to be the best version of himself possible, build on the strengths he had and eradicate the flaws. He was not going to be weak anymore, he was not going to doubt his own thoughts and feelings, he was not going to quit. Izuku was going to choose to be strong, and Izuku had long held the opinion that the best reason a person could have for becoming strong was to help others that weren't, or couldn't.

Izuku promised himself at that table that he was going to become the strongest he could, and be the best hero possible. He was okay with his limitations, he was okay with the inevitable obstacles that that goal put in his way. He'd smash those obstacles until there was nothing left. He was never going to fail anyone again, not like he'd failed Katsuki Bakugo. He was never going to stand back while someone was dying. He was never going to do nothing when he could've done something. Izuku Midoriya, the old, weak Izuku Midoriya, had died that day as well. A new Izuku Midoriya was being born as he made these promises to himself, and every second was a new opportunity to embrace strength. He was not going to fail again.

Eventually, Inko returned to the table and set down a cup of tea for everyone. She'd been gone so long that Izuku had thought she might've left to take a nap, but as she wiped tears from her face when she thought nobody was looking, Izuku knew. It must've been her idea for Masaru and Mitsuki to come and talk to me. Thank you, Mom.

The four of them resumed conversation, and the topic moved on to funeral plans. Apparently, Aldera Junior High was going to pay for the funeral, since Kacchan was so beloved by the student body and the staff. They were going to hold an assembly in the gym next week so that the principal — Mr. Tanaka — some teachers — Mr. Miorosu and Ms. Watanabe, probably — and his close friends — probably the ones that followed him around all the time, the ones he often called extras, Nagai Yubi and Sekiei Ken — could give a few speeches about how impactful Kacchan's friendship and hard work had been for them. Izuku didn't think he wanted to go to that assembly, and the adults had assured Izuku that it was okay if he didn't, but he ended up admitting that he'd likely feel like he was being disrespectful if he didn't go. The conversation transitioned through a few more topics like that, and Mitsuk and Masaru eventually left after a long day of mourning and grieving with the Midoriyas.

"Mom," Izuku said as Inko was standing up to put away the now empty cups they'd drunk tea from earlier.

"Yes?" she asked, sitting back down easily.

"UA," he said. "I do still want to be a hero. I don't think I could possibly do anything else until I try."

Inko smiled over the table at her son. "For a long time, I don't think I understood your obsession with heroes. Especially after we found out that you were Quirkless. I guess I just don't have your heart, Izuku." Her eyes watered, but she didn't cry. "I expected you to be angry. I expected you to be bitter. Maybe it was just me who was angry and bitter at the unfairness of it, that someone who loves heroes and Quirks so much couldn't have powers of their own to save people with." Inko's voice shook, but she did not break. "I didn't expect you to double down. I didn't expect you to fall even deeper in love with heroism and the powers that made it possible. For years, I watched you chasing after something I never thought you could have. I asked myself, Why? Why does he not despise the world that makes his classmates think he's nothing? Why does he not see it the way I do? I thought you were in denial, in your own world in your head where you did have a Quirk, where you could be a hero. I thought about taking you to a doctor some days." She seemed to catch how that sounded, and sighed. "If that makes me a bad mother, then I'll accept that. I surely wasn't supporting you, lifting you up and cheering you on, like I should've been, like a good mother would have." Izuku went to challenge that, but he silenced himself when he saw that it had to be taking all her strength to not fall apart as she spoke. He let her speak.

"Then, I saw you talking to Katsuki that day at the hospital. It was only hours after you'd heard the cruellest, most heartless words a person could hear, directly from his mouth. At the end of what had to have been the longest, hardest, worst day of your life, what did you do? You showed him kindness. You empathised with him. You asked him to stay by your side because of the faith you had in him to be better if he did. But he rejected your kindness. And that's okay — he didn't have to take your hand, just like you didn't have to offer it to him. You both made choices. But in that moment, I think I saw what you've been seeing in heroes all this time. I saw someone who looked at a bad situation and tried their best to turn it around, no matter how dire things looked. I saw someone who could never give up when there was still something to be done, words to be said. I saw empathy so profound that I could've wept right then and there. What he'd done didn't matter to you. All that mattered was that he was a person capable of being good, and I think that's sacred to you. I saw a hero's heart in you, Izuku, so I know you're going to try for UA. I've known it all along. I just never fully understood why, but I think I do now. Thank you for letting me see the you I should've been seeing this whole time. I promise you that I'm going to make up for my failings as your mother. I'll do my best to make sure you show everyone that brilliant heart of yours."

Izuku was on his feet and embracing his sobbing mother before he knew it. He hugged Inko tightly, and they shed tears that had been overdue for a long time. Izuku's body almost felt lighter after the two of them confessed their feelings on the matter, as if he had physically shed the weight of his lonely existence. That's what it had been, he thought. Lonely. He'd never really had anyone in his corner before, even his own mother had thought he was setting himself up for failure, but now he had support. He had a foundation to build on, and a goal to work for. For the first time in Izuku's life, he was at the starting line, just when everyone else was preparing themselves for the first hurdle. For just that moment, Izuku was content to simply enjoy his newfound perspective, and get himself past the funeral before beginning the training he'd need to accomplish his goals. He could think about all that later. There were nine or so months before UA held their entrance exam. Izuku had time.

---

The time had come. This was the end of All Might.

Izuku watched the television in shock. He had dropped the remote while channel surfing and was glued to the screen, showing All Might in his Young Age costume hosting a press conference with two people at his side. One of the men beside All Might was his former sidekick, Sir Nighteye. Izuku hadn't seen him for a few years, so he'd managed a small smile at first and wondered if the two heroes had agreed to work together again. The other was a shorter, older man who Izuku didn't recognise, which was odd. He wore a yellow and white jumpsuit with a cape, and used a cane to stand. Izuku liked to think that he could recognise a lot of the well-known heroes on sight, but his mind wasn't supplying him with this old timer's name or Quirk. He must've been an old hero, retired before Izuku's time, but a good one, if he was at All Might's side. Izuku's mood took a turn for the worse as All Might began to speak.

"It has always been my dream to be of service to others. When I was a child, my mother and I would read old comic books from America, even though we could barely understand the words, and forget about the harsh reality we lived in for a little while. She passed away when I was in middle school, but she stayed with me in my soul. I yearned to make Japan into the world we escaped to within those comic books, a world where you could look outside and feel free to live your life because a hero was watching over you and your neighbours, protecting you with a smile. That was always the desire closest to my heart. I became your Symbol of Peace, and for decades, I have made that dream of mine into a reality. My only regret is that I cannot experience the world I've created for myself. I've worked ceaselessly for decades, destroying my body and running full stop toward the finish line, and I am tired. Though you do not know it — I have kept it from you — my body is failing. I am getting old. And this fatigue that I feel, this exhaustion, it's not just physical. For six years, the spark that I once had has been slipping away from me, bit by bit, and I did not realise it. I cherish all that I've been able to do with my power, but when you save so many lives on a daily basis, stop so many car crashes, villain attacks, even simply bumps and scrapes — it begins to blend together. That mindset, of simply drifting through incidents and treating heroics like an obligation of the strong instead of a passion of the kind, has led me to commit an error that ended a young boy's life. I am sure you all remember the poor boy who recently lost his life in a villain attack, Katsuki Bakugo. My foolishness, and the weakness that has crept up on me in my old age, allowed the villain to escape me after I'd previously detained them. I was there that day, watching from the crowd, but I was powerless to help him after exhausting myself earlier in the day. His death is on my hands."

Oh, my god. Izuku stared at the TV with his jaw dropped and his eyes wide, failing to process what he was hearing. Was All Might saying what Izuku thought he was saying? He'd grown up with stories from his mother about how All Might was already one of the most famous heroes around during her childhood. Mitsuki and Masaru had supported that claim. All Might had been a hero for generations. People who grew up knowing only All Might as the strongest hero have kids now who know him the same way. It was unfathomable to Izuku that he could be saying what he thought he was saying. Could All Might be about to retire? No, the thought was too horrible to face. Even Izuku, who was probably the only civilian to ever have a negative experience with All Might, could never want that to happen. And what's this about Kacchan? That was the thing that almost had Izuku in tears. All Might didn't have to claim responsibility for that. Izuku had learned the hard way that the one and only person responsible for that act of villainy was locked away serving the time for it. Izuku understood wanting to fall apart over perceived guilt — he'd only just had sense served to him a few weeks ago. To retire the Symbol of Peace because of it? Izuku found himself disagreeing with something his idol and personal hero had said for the first time in his life.

"If you were there when Katsuki Bakugo was attacked, then how come nobody saw you?" a reporter asked, giving voice to one of Izuku's questions that hadn't quite had the time to form yet.

"I …" All Might seemed to hesitate. "I do not always look like I do here and now."

Izuku gasped, and realised what All Might must have meant. He'd almost forgotten about it, because he hadn't been intending to speak a word to a single soul about what he'd seen of All Might's injury and true form up on the rooftop that day. While the cameras were still on him, All Might shrunk down in a puff of steam. His true, gaunt face looked into the camera and frowned with such intensity that Izuku trembled for a moment. His secret. Everything was about to change. It would have to, now that the world knew that All Might was a mortal man that could be beaten. Izuku let himself cry upon realising the fact that Japan was about to become a very different place.

"This is what I look like for the twenty-one hours a day that I'm not All Might. This is the body that could not save Katsuki Bakugo. This is the form that I will choose to remain in once I retire. I am not retiring immediately — I wouldn't leave you alone during such a tumultuous time as the one ahead of us — but I will eventually. I'm well aware of how this choice will impact everyone. I believe this change is good, and that it will usher in a new period of growth for Japan. I think the world must move on from me. After all, I'm just a man. Questions?" All Might said.

"Yeah, how exactly do you plan to step back from heroics?"

"I will be reducing my hero work bit by bit. Eventually, in a year or two, I'll retire completely," All Might replied.

"What do you expect to happen to all of us when you're gone?"

"That's something I don't truly have an answer to. I'm well aware of the effect that I have had on the country, and how integral I was in keeping the peace during the early days of my career. What do I expect to happen now? I think heroes will be there to protect you from anything that does happen. I have long grappled with feeling as though my great power means that I should behave as though I am the best hero for any given task. That is not true. My peers in the top ten, Hawks and Beast Jeanist for example — they're both uniquely suited to stealth, reconnaissance, and detainment due to their quiet yet powerful Quirks. I have never been very good at sneaking. When you consider that, there are thousands of heroes that can each pick up a piece left behind by my absence. All heroes may become Symbols of Peace in this way. Hear me, Japan, when I say this. As long as heroes exist, and the desire to help others persists in all of you, then All Might, the Symbol of Peace, will never retire. He will live on in each of you. Remember that, and you'll be able to overcome anything."

Something about that struck Izuku. As long as the desire to help others persists … you'll be able to overcome anything. That's what Izuku loved about All Might so much. He didn't pretend that his status as Japan's pillar was to do with his strength alone. It was as much about All Might's kindness and willingness to volunteer for a burden in the place of others that made Izuku respect him as much as he did. Izuku had the same dream that All Might had admitted to at the start of the conference. It has always been my greatest wish to be of service to others. Maybe it was because of his weakness up until then, or maybe it was because he'd been bullied for most of his life, but Izuku thought being strong and choosing to use that strength to improve the days of others was just about the coolest thing a person could ever hope to do. That was why he wanted to be a hero so much, and why he'd hoped and hoped that Kacchan could've become better if he just kept believing in him. But that view of his had been cracked, slightly. Kacchan hadn't improved, and he'd flippantly told Izuku to kill himself the day he died using his last words to taunt and belittle Izuku just hours later. All Might had told Izuku that he couldn't be a hero, because he didn't have strength to use in the service of others. Sometimes, the people one wanted to look up to weren't all that great when the opportunity presented itself for them to be bitter and jaded and hateful.

That just reaffirmed Izuku's belief that kindness was a choice, and that every time a person was unkind to someone else, it was just another chance for them to be better. All Might may have taken himself off the pedestal Izuku had held him up on, but Izuku himself figured that was probably for the better. It was like All Might had said just moments ago, he was just a man. Izuku had expected All Might to be some kind of perfectly reasonable and just arbiter of justice, but that hadn't been who he encountered in that tunnel that day. Izuku had encountered the person underneath that persona, the tired, hurting man that had to have wrestled with how his power kept a whole nation from falling into chaos. And he'd said something hurtful to Izuku, yes, and Izuku did resent that notion, that Quirks were the only strength that mattered in a hero, but Izuku was also able to see his side of things. The strongest man alive had enough power to catch a collapsing skyscraper and set it back upright, enough speed to defeat a hundred villains in three seconds, and could casually endure attacks that would obliterate the average person, even the average hero. That had been his normal for decades. Of course it became about power when considering the ability for someone without it to become a hero. Izuku didn't blame All Might for giving the answer he did, even if he'd been looking for something else. That was fine. Izuku was weak, and he couldn't have been a hero when he'd asked All Might, but he was going to be better, stronger from then on, so that he could achieve his dream.

An idea came to Izuku as he sat on the couch and let the television play in the background as he was lost in thought. All Might was being optimistic and he knew it — no matter how slowly he withdrew from hero society, there were going to be ripple effects. Japan's crime rate was the lowest in the world, at just six percent, whereas the rest of the world hovered somewhere around twenty, give or take a few percent depending on the country. That was entirely because of All Might's presence in Japan as a deterrent for villains to try anything too big. When All Might started reducing the amount of hero work he did, there would be an initial influx of villains thinking they could start getting away with bigger and bigger crimes now that the Symbol was gone. The image of a Japan plunged into chaos due to the absence of a pillar reminded him of the time between when Quirks had emerged but before the modern hero system had been implemented. Izuku hadn't been around for that, but his history textbooks called it the Dawn of Quirks. However, there was another name that the kids in his class had whispered to each other when they'd learned about this period of history. They'd learned it from their grandparents and great-grandparents, who had lived during that time. They called that time the Dark Age. Was Japan heading toward a new Dark Age now that All Might, the one thing keeping villains at bay, was retiring? The thought made him sick.

Heroes would need to step up. If All Might was going to be leaving them to their own devices in as little as one year, then they needed to fill the gap, and Izuku was willing to admit that they might not have been able to do it. Looking at the top ten, it was clear that there was no one ready to assume the place of the Symbol of Peace. Gang Orca was leaning more toward his aquarium of Quirk-bearing sea life lately, prioritising it as a lucrative business more than he had in past years. Ryukyu was a good hero who beat bad guys and kept people safe, but watching her in interviews made it clear that she was naturally timid, but forced herself to be personable, which was painful to watch for Izuku as a fellow introvert. Yoroi Musha would probably be the next top ten hero to retire, if Izuku was being honest with himself. Mirko had the raw power a Symbol of Peace would need, but refused to work with other heroes and cared more about her own personal satisfaction and fighting strong villains, rather than placing a deep importance on helping people in trouble, which she of course still did.

Crust was a humble, social hero with an impressive mastery of his useful Quirk that let him save lots of lives, and was probably the closest thing to a second All Might within the top ten. Edgeshot was level-headed and intelligent and also used his strong Quirk masterfully, but lacked the raw power to really show that he could always protect someone. Best Jeanist was akin to Gang Orca, in that he was leaning more toward branding and business as opposed to patrolling and doing hero work, though he was good at his job, respectable and skilled enough with his Quirk that he reached the number four spot. Hawks was probably the single most impressive hero in the top ten aside from All Might, since he climbed his way to that echelon at only eighteen years old and was still only twenty-one, but Izuku wondered sometimes if he really took being a hero seriously, since he never seemed to care that much about whatever was going on around him, even during a disaster. Endeavor was certainly strong enough to become the new Symbol of Peace, but that was the only thing he shared with All Might, as the Flame Hero had spoken numerous times about how he wished to be the strongest man in the world, and had never spoken about how he felt when saving a life.

Izuku thought he could see the bigger picture after considering all of that. There wasn't a clear successor to All Might. Things were going to escalate and without a Symbol of Peace to bring order, chaos would spread throughout the country. There would be no single, unifying figure for every hero to rally around, for every civilian to put their faith in, and for every villain to fear. Unless … no, that would be silly. Izuku didn't really think he had it in him to be a Symbol of Peace. After all, he was squarely in the column with Ryukyu regarding screen presence. He'd never get that popular. He did still want to do whatever he could to aid the heroes in getting through this tough time for Japan, though. Joining them and doing his best to become the greatest hero he could hope to be was going to have to be enough. He'd spent the last couple of weeks putting together a training plan for UA's entrance exam, and was prepared to start on that road any day now. He just needed a place to train in, and he already had a location in mind after his mother had complained for the hundredth time about the old beach park that was relatively close to them that the city never got anyone to clean. If Izuku got into UA and trained with the best of the best to be a hero, then he could help Japan through a potential second Dark Age, prove All Might wrong about Quirkless people, and live up to his final words to Kacchan and choose to be strong. He could do it all, if he put his mind to it.

Izuku sighed as All Might ended the press conference, and he leapt up to put his shoes on. He pulled on a hoodie and ran out the door, unable to sit still any longer after seeing that broadcast, and putting the pieces together about just how much things were about to change. Izuku went to scout out Takoba Municipal Beach Park, the abandoned dump that had once been a lovely beach during his mother's youth. He had promised himself that he was never going to stand still when he could be doing something for the betterment of the world, never again. It was time to make his ideals into reality, starting with himself. There were eight months until UA's next student intake. He'd be ready. He had to be, otherwise he'd never forgive himself.