From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.
-Excerpt From 'The Raven', by Edgar Allan Poe
He wakes up to the scent of something cold, something drizzly, and something purple.
There is a gentle leaking of light behind the curtains, the late dawn of the winters in Matsutafu smeared across his eyelids. There's something cold about an apartment, occupied by no one other than yourself, and waking up to the silence seems to make Izuku more aware of it than ever. He turns, gazing up the ceiling with an almost bland look on his face, before turning over, and reaching for his phone.
8:00 am. Izuku flips onto his back, feeling out the air around him as he closes his eyes. The familiar buzz- scent and not-scent; sound and not-sound. Sweat from the blankets he hadn't washed and watery roses; the leaves outside his window and echoing whale songs.
He should get out of bed- school is starting in 30, and even if he leaves now, he'd be late. But it has been a while since Izuku has bothered he wanted to be on time for once today, but seems like it wouldn't be the case today.
Something cold brush across his cheek, and Izuku's eyes snap open as he hisses. His legs get tangled in the blankets and he very nearly slips off the side of the bed, catching himself in the last moments. Someone giggles, and he feels it more than he hears it- a gentle not-sound that it was. He looks up in deadpan, just a little annoyed.
"Alice."
The woman's face hangs upside down from his point of view, as she peers down at him, the finger she has just poked him with still extended, smiling with amusement. The brim of her hat casts a shadow across her face, but not his own.
'Good morning, darling.'She tilts her head.'You said you wanted to go to school today.'
"I am regretting that decision right now." Izuku closes his eyes, the sleep has yet to recede, and he feels like he can drop back to sleep for another 3 hours. "I'mtired."
'Regretting the late night?'
Izuku groans, and closes his eyes again. It was enough and quite obvious of an answer to the woman, who sighs. And moments later something ice cold closes around his face, cupping it. The cold is unexpected, so Izuku yelps out loud this time. He bounces off the bad, falling off the edge in a tangle of limbs and blankets.
Laughter, as Izuku pulls the blanket covering his face away. Alice pulls back, straightening, and the top of her head brushes the ceiling.'Awake now?'
"Very."
Her eyes crinkle with a smile, then her form scatters into starlight. And Izuku readies himself for the morning. He changes into his uniform, not ironed, but washed, though a little dusty from lack of use. He sniffs it and sneezes, flinging it a few times before slipping it on. He packs whatever into his bag- notebooks, some stationeries. He's lost track of what textbook they're using now. Not that he'd bother to buy them even if he knew.
There is no breakfast on the table when he walks outside. The dishes last night sits in the sink still- he'll have to do them after school. Izuku grimaces, Aegir isn't going to be happy about that, though he highly suspect he already knows- a soft prick of something like fresh fabrics against his not-senses only confirms that. The living room is dark, and dust dance in the light through the windowsill.
His mom's bedroom is tightly closed, but not locked, like it always has been.
He decides against breakfast at home, and rummages through the shoes drawer for his school shoes. He finds them in the back, dulled with some spiderwebs on the edges. He brushes them off, slips them on, and locks the door behind him.
The morning is bright, and there's someone sitting on the railing watching the skies, her back to him. Miss Thyme tilts her head back to look at him, smiling, the sun halos her form, but it doesn't leave a shadow.'Morning, Izuku,'she greets, and her voice doesn't sound like a voice at all. In fact, it doesn't make a sound at all,'ready for school?'
Izuku smiles, a little hopeful, "are you coming with me?"
'I'm always with you.'She shrugs, then her eyes warm and soften like butter- purple butter.'I'm proud of you.'
Izuku lowers his gaze, she always means it, he knows so. Izuku watches the woman as she slips off the ledge, but doesn't fall, instead stays afloat, stepping on starlight as she turns around. She motions for him to follow, and Izuku smiles before he takes the stairs to follow her down.
The scent of azaleas accompany him on the train, as does faint outline of stars and whales moving through them Izuku has never known a time where the skies are without stars, if he did, then he was too young to remember them. Izuku looks out the window, and towards a scenery he once thought everyone could appreciate- as he breaths in, the air is thick with the not scent of concepts. Azaleas- fresh cloths and parchment, ink and the faint waft of something like oil- painted across like layers of watercolour- never quite mixing into something that perhaps should be foul.
"How's Azalea?" He murmurs, quiet.
'...I haven't been able to speak to her yet.'Thyme's not-voice is quiet as well, even though it never made a sound to begin with.'Her sisters say she's doing well.'She shifts through the people around her on the train- and their shape phase through hers, the swish of her white robe. Her tall frame, towering even over those with mutant quirks, draws no one's eyes as she bends down to press a hand at the glass, not quite touching, but approximating, and there's a smile on her face.'Mt Lady is debuting today.'
Izuku's head perks up with interest, "tell me about it?"
Thyme laughs, and it's more of a concept than a sound.'During break, maybe.'
He walks the rest of the way to school, Thyme trailing after him like a ghost. Along with her the faint idea of mist across his skin and the slightly damp not-air within caves. Something like rain and thymes. Neither her height nor her attire catches the attention of the crowd- not all 8 feet of her, nor the white robe, bound at the neck, wrists and waist by bands of golden net.
It's like she doesn't exist at all.
Izuku doesn't recall his first glimpse of a whale. He was far too young, and his memories, unlike theirs, fails him. He doesn't mourn it, though- the Whales- the Cetaceans, remember for him. And as for himself, well. He remembers all the important parts.
The hem of her dress was weighed with gauze ruffles, almost ridiculously impractical if it didn't look as good as it did. The edge of her wide-brimmed hat dipped over her face, casting a shadow that didn't fall over Izuku, but her and herself alone. He remembers wistful eyes, gazing up and out to the skies as he sat by his mother, pointing out each and every star that she can't see, as he murmured to her, relaying the whales' words, describing their songs, and this scenery that only he could see.
He remembers asking, turning up to the dark-haired cetacean with wide eyes in askance, and Alice turning back, smiling with sad eyes.
'We made a deal. And we were tricked.'She traced the stars- and Izuku tried to follow her motion, but he never quite could. Something about the way he reached just seemed different.'The whales loved the humans so, and wished to remember them- but remaining here would mean a contract Earth cannot hold us all, we were too powerful. Thus a contract was signed.'
'We were naive.'She smiled sadly.'Deception is an incredibly human thing, and so is ambition.'
Her eyes reached for the skies in a way that could only be called longing, her fingers seemed to touch the stars, grazing, and the stars reached back.
They didn't touch.
'We became a nonexistence, Izuku. So they don't see us anymore. We don't exist.'
Izuku was silent as he watched her from his mother's arms, he quietly relayed the Cetaceans' words to her, sharing with her a piece of this world. He turned back to see the whale, tracing the stars again.
She did that a lot, and she looked at the stars like how his mom used to look at pictures of dad, full of fondness and adoration and pain.
"Then why can I see you?"
'Because, darling, even if we don't,'she closed her eyes, and even though she is still smiling, Izuku couldn't help but feel that she must be sad,'we are beings of concepts. And some concepts cannot be killed, while others must exist we aren't supposed to not exist. We do- so we're stuck. And as for you, Izuku,'a pause,'you are very special.'
Cold hands cupped his cheek through lace, and the witness of love gazed into his eyes.
'You have a very, very special quirk indeed.'
We are cetaceans- witnesses of this world.
We are gods without dominions yet all of their duties.
We see all of you, all of you.
And with us, you are never truly forgotten.
It's easy to slip past the closing gates as Izuku entered school, late by at least 15 minutes. The prefect committee of Aldera middle school was never at all as dedicated as any other depicted in the media, being one of the bottom line schools more infamous in the area. He walks past them without any of the members batting an eye at him, Thyme trailing after him, humming a song in a language he cannot understand.
The classroom is rowdy when he enters, and Izuku makes his way to the teacher's desk- the man's eyes glazes over as he lays them on him, and says nothing about his arriving late. Izuku slips his high school app into the stack on the table, and leaves.
The teacher says nothing. His classmates continue their chatter amongst themselves as he winds past them. Someone bumps into him- they don't turn around, they say nothing. It almost feels pointless to come here, at this point. Izuku continues his stride, finally settling into his seat, like he doesn't exist at all if not for the pair of insistent red eyes drilling into the back of his head all along.
"Morning." Kacchan's voice is gruff, disgruntled as it comes from the seat behind him. Izuku makes a vague noise in response. There's a change in the mock-watercolour of the air, and Izuku can almost paint the look of dissatisfaction on the teen's face, behind him. "I said,morning."
He smells the familiar concept of gunpowder, wafting in, between a blink and the next, something goes out of focus like stars flickering- then there's someone by the windows in front of him. Mister Ruslan. Izuku meets the cetacean's red eyes, and Thyme acknowledges him before laying a hand on Izuku's shoulder, gentle as they wait.
A few years ago, he would've been afraid. Now? Izuku is just unsure. Hesitant, he opens his mouth to answer.
"Morning, Kacchan." He doesn't look back, and waits with the cetaceans at the resulting silence. It seems to satisfy him enough however, and Thyme's fingers leaves his side. Though Mister Ruslan doesn't disappear, and stays leaning against the window, watching. It has eased, but the concept of smoke and gunpowder remains- so maybe Kacchan wanted to say more, maybe he didn't, Izuku wouldn't know- because directly afterwards, class commences, and Izuku takes this oppurtunity to take out his notebooks.
He doesn't often use notebooks nowadays, digital formats are much easier to manage- they're more secure, too. But this is school, and he'd have to make do. These mostly contains more loose thoughts and and ideas over anything concrete now, and as the teacher drawls on and his classmates begin passing their notes and murmuring amongst themselves, Izuku recalls the hypothetical (he's not actually sure about that part) cases the woman presented to him last night, and begins scribbling.
When Izuku first developed his interest in quirk analysis, Alice was the first to approach him about it the Cetacean was thrilled, to say the least, and instantly began cultivating this ability. It started off much lighter, though with time her lessons with him have turned into something far more in depth and educational. It's difficult, but Izuku enjoys it very much- the feeling when recounts of the news reports matches their predictions, and that proud little smile she would give him before ruffling his hair.
She had just left him with a new piece of 'homework' the beginning of this week, a list of clues, a crime scene and nothing else, leaving Izuku to ponder on what exactly is there to find- but that is the fun part. He searches his mind for anything useful- but is unsuccessful in his attempt, the noise of the classroom and stray thoughts distract him from being able to come up with anything concrete. He sighs, and leans back in his seat.
'Izuku,'Thyme's not-voice pulls him out of his thoughts,'are you not going to listen to class?'
Izuku opens his mouth to answer, but then recalls that Kacchan is behind him- and closes it. It's not required, to answer them out loud, cetaceans can read thoughts like one would a book- they are witnesses after all, they just prefer talking. It's only natural, after spending the entirety of the human ages without being spoken to- Izuku brought about a lot of their firsts in a very long time. So he meets her eyes instead, letting there be at least some kind of interaction. Thyme's expression softens.
'I know Aegir has taught you all of this already, but still...'she stops as Izuku breaks his gaze, looking away. He can imagine the crestfallen look on her face already, and feels just a little guilty.
Mister Ruslan speaks, then.'If you aren't going to be doing much anyways,'he says, leaning against the window, and Izuku meets his eyes,'I can give you the details to Mt Lady's debut?'
Izuku's eyes shine- "tell me everything," he blurts, thankfully quiet enough. He sends a quick glance behind to confirm that Kacchan didn't hear anything, before he turns back to Mister Ruslan, staring. The cetacean stares back for a moment, before he snorts, a small laugh escaping him, and begins recounting the event.
The teacher drawls on, and his classmates continue passing their notes, chatting amongst themselves. Meanwhile, Izuku writes into his notebook in a script taught to him by a whale, between two other who doesn't exist.
First recess arrives far too early for Izuku, he's just barely gotten half the details- giantification isn't a rare trait among heroes- but they're striking, and how each hero utilises it often defines their ranking and performance. Ryuku is a good example. Some heroes often rely on the advantage of size too much, and tend to either overlook the glaring flaws in their reduced accessibility or straight up avoid those situations.
He used to see Mister Ruslan a lot more often- he is after all, the witness of 'war' or at least, the concept of it. Pulling him out of the way of Kacchan's explosions, helping him learn how to dodge, he would be by his side through school, to the point where the scent of gunpowder is more of a norm than not. It's a bit trickier to meet him now, but setting up conflicts is easier than you'd think once you learn how to argue with yourself.
As most of his classmates trickle out of the room, Izuku moves to pack. An old habit from when he needed to work to avoid attention, he slides his notebook back into his backpack, and stands up, only to stop.
Kacchan is still here, staring at him. The look in his eyes isn't one Izuku can read, not malicious, but angry- always angry. "You're in school today," he comments from across the room, "that's rare."
He's honestly only here because Kacchan said they're doing highschool applications today, when he dropped off his homework yesterday, but Izuku looks away, and says none of it. "Highschool app is today," he says, "so I thought I should at least come hand that in."
Kacchan's face goes through a series of weird expressions, before he narrows his eyes, "are you leaving now?" He asks, sharply. And Izuku recoils, frowning.
"What? No, its not like I have anything else to do," he does, actually, but it's not urgent, so anything to shut him up. He's been like this for a while- pushy and dare he say, a little awkward. Izuku doesn't know what he wants anymore. And it scares him a little bit, when he doesn't know what Kacchan wants from him.
There's an awkward silence, and its starting to get uncomfortable, "I need to go get breakfast." Izuku excuses himself, pushing away from his table. Kacchan says something, he thinks, but as Izuku slips out the door, two of his classmates slips in, calling the red-eyed teen's name.
Thyme's hand grazes his arm, and he takes the chance to escape.
There came the scent of water, and the concept of it, before a figure draped in white wrapped herself around him. Her white was different from the one that shone in his eyes, harsh and cold. It was gentler, kinder, and wafted from it the concept of wild thymes instead of disinfectant.
He was not that much smaller than he is now, but his shoulders were softer, and they didn't hurt from the amount of time he spent working on his laptop, slaving away in front of statistics and information. Aegir stood a little away, by his mother's bedside. Blond, in colours of sea glass and something softer, a hand laying over his mother's own.
Her chest rose and fell, and there was a steady beep on the monitor- like a ticking clock. There was another clock in this room, ticking away, ticking at his senses, his sanity. He watched his mother's limp form, and swallowed.
The white around him retreated, and between a blink and the next, she was by his mother's side, she gives Aegir a look, and after the next blink, there's a steady hand on his shoulder, and Aegir is by his side.
'...anything?'The cetacean asked at length.
'No,'something hurt in her not-voice as she replied,'I can't... reach her. Earth has-'she stopped, and closed her eyes-'this is our fault.'
A coma, he's heard the doctors say, a strange one, since her head hadn't been that badly impacted- or impacted at all. But wouldn't be the first case, brains are delicate, after all. But he knew- and they knew, that this was something else.
"Is mom-" his voice cracked from dryness, and hurt. He was alone now, "is mom going to wake up?"
Next to him, Aegir knelt down, his scarf trailed to the ground, and his sea glass eyes are determined behind his monocle.'Izuku,'he said, whale songs behind his words,'as the witness of promises, I swear to you, we will do everything we can to wake your mother. Everything. And in the meanwhile,'he pulled him into an embrace, tight,'I promised your mother to protect you, so I will'
'We all will.'
Izuku left the hospital that day, clinging onto a hand that didn't exist, the scrapes and burns on his arms yet tended to. And as he walked through the pale halls of the hospital, no one seemed to notice him at all. In fact, he had walked right past several doctors and even Mitsuki-san without them blinking an eye.
That day, Izuku walked home with nonexistences by his side. That day, Thyme sung him to sleep as her mist soothed his wounds, and he woke to the scent of azaleas, and not a single scrap on his skin.
That moment, he knew his life was going to change.
To witness a world, we signed a contract with the world.
But we were naive then- for deception and envy are qualities of the living.
Earth trapped us, bound us, and thus we began our nonexistence.
Behind a looking glass, we watched the world- denied of life.
Kacchan doesn't bother him the rest of the day, though he can feel his red eyes drilling into the back of his head through classes and after. Recess, and then lunch comes and goes and spends them in the company of nonexistences Poppy visits briefly, as does Aegir, lecturing him on the kinds of lunch he's chosen to eat. He did some people watching, staring past the fence of the school out onto the street, food sitting untouched on his lap as he watched those accompanied by more nonexistences, watching the not-air ebb and flow, like undulations of the tides.
And then was homeroom again. And the teacher picks out their high school appplications, having gone through them. Izuku sits, silent, as their class teacher throws their applications into the air, declaring them all headed for the hero course. He dodges to the side to avoid a failing piece of paper, and Thyme reaches out to brush it away- her hand phases through the thin material, and she let her hand fall, crestfallen.
Mister Ruslan is still here, leaning against a window as he watches the class, arms crossed, head tilted. Izuku averts his eyes. He likes Mister Ruslan- but what his presence means isn't exactly pleasant.
He is not surprised when the teacher says out loud that Kacchan is aiming for UA. He can feel him preening under the class' attention, picture his grin under his classmates applause. It's only natural, with Kacchan.
He is, however, when the teacher mentioned him.
"Oh, wait. Midoriya has written down UA as well," the man at the podium squints through his glasses, and Izuku shrinks. Meanwhile, Thyme expression shifts to that of alarm. But before Izuku could observe any further reaction from anyone else, a clatter catches his attention, and the attention of everyone else in the class.
Izuku turns around, Kacchan has stood up, his chair clattering to the ground behind him. He is wide-eyed, and something about his expression almost scares him. Because even with the kinds of things Izuku gets into these days he can't help that small part of himself that is still afraid of him.
"What is it, Bakugo-kun?"
Red eyes find his, and Izuku finds that he cannot read them. "Nothing," his childhood friend and bully says, tense. He grits his teeth like a snarl, "nothing."
No one else had any reaction to his name, no discussion, no mocking laughter, nothing. Kacchan slumps into his seat, and Izuku barely finds it in himself to feel relief.
Come end of day, and the buzzing concept of gunpowder reaches its peak. He can feel Kacchan's eyes boring into his back as the class trickled out of the room in twos and threes, chatting amongst themselves. He can feel Mister Ruslan's presence even more than before, the impending conflict verging on a breaking point.
He doesn't start packing quicker. There is no point. At this point, it really can't be avoided. He stands up, and waits.
"Oi, Deku."
Here it comes. Izuku turns around. The name doesn't sting anymore, it used to. But now it slides off his back like water over a duck's back. "Kacchan." He says, keeping his expression carefully blank.
Kacchan's face is twisted into something strange, and again, Izuku cannot read- it unsettles something in him, but he ignores it. "UA? Deku?UA?" He sounds angry, but that's nothing new for Kacchan, Kacchan is always angry. It's what he cannot read behind that anger that scares him. The teen snarls, and Thyme lays a hand on his shoulder, grip slowly tightening. She's worried. This isn't within her domain of witness, and she doesn't know what Kacchan is going to do. Out of the corner of his eyes Izuku see her glance at Mister Ruslan, who seems calm enough. Which is a good sign. "Have you gone nuts stuffed in that apartment doing nothing? Are you trying to one up me or something, hah?"
The familiarity of the line, despite how... Mean, it is, comforts him. Izuku's shoulders slack as Thyme's grip tightens, "it's just a high school app, Kacchan." Izuku sighs, hoping to dismiss the conflict. But Kacchan bristles instead. Izuku shuts his eyes. Wrong thing to say.
"Just-" something about his voice goes strange, and the thing Izuku cannot read rises to the surface, briefly, before it sinks again beneath anger, "that is the UA hero course we are talking about! Have you seen the sports festival? Do you want to drag your useless, quirkless ass in there and get blown out of the arena?!" He snaps, snarling, and Izuku dodges spit, tilting his head. "Nothing has changed with your head these two years I swear, Deku. Still delusional?"
Izuku's shoulders seize. "I'm not," he snaps back, too quick for himself to even process what he's done. He hears Thyme whisper his name, see a strand of her tawny blonde braid sway into view, and wild thymes and mist surround him. It's supposed to dissuade him, he knows, but it just makes him even angrier. Not at Kacchan, just angry, "delusional." He finishes his sentence with a bite, his teeth clicking a touch too hard that it hurts. "And I haven't been doing nothing."
"So you've been what, doing your quirk analysis thing?" Kacchan reaches for his table, and Izuku reaches back just a touch too late, grazing his notebook as Kacchan snatches it off the table. He flips through the loose phrases and notes. "This shit is empty, Deku, and it ain't going to be much use when you're going to get taken out of a fight in five seconds."
"Give that back," Izuku reaches, and Kacchan just pulls it further from his reach. Times like this he curses his height. Even though he should really be used to being short, considering his daily company almost exclusively being whales standing at least at 7"5', "Kacchan!"
"Deku!" Kacchan snarls right back, and Izuku flinches this time. "What if you die!"
Before either of them could process what was just said, Izuku slips, and Kacchan, pulling his arm back, flings the notebook out of his hand. Their eyes widen, and they watch, both silent as the book clattered against the window, then fell right out of it. Izuku hears a soft gasp, and out of the corner of his eyes, a scatter of starlight, then Thyme's gone- probably to go after the book.
There is silence, for a moment, before Izuku scrambles to straighten himself. He snatches his book back, barely zipping it up, before he races down the stairs. There's another pair of footsteps hot on his heels, and Izuku steps into the school's backyard, Kacchan bursting in right behind him, before they both falter.
The notebook floats in the pond, several koi fishes nibbling at it. Thyme stands a little off to the side, starlight at her heels as she looks apologetically at Izuku, elongated ears dropping just a little.
'Sorry,'she says,'it hit the tree, and...'
Izuku looks up, spotting the tree she was referring to, and sighs.
"...Deku, I-"
"Never mind."
Izuku cuts him off, and turns his back to the teen. He doesn't look back, and Thyme follows him as he leaves, Mister Ruslan, however, stays behind to witness something else. The concept of gunpowder fades from his side, and Izuku...
Izuku doesn't really know how to feel about it.
A/N:
This fic is cross posted from Ao3, as well as a rework of an older version. You can find it there as well. It is also Beta read by Frost Nova, a friend and avid reader of this fic since its first version.
The three Cetaceans introduced within this chapter are:
Alice Gaimetaine: Witness of Love
Thyme Eikengast: Witness of Dreams
Aegir Adhal: Witness of Promises
Ruslan Argall: Witness of War
I also drew the cover. There are more art on the Ao3 version as it supports image inserts, so feel free to go check it out.