Because I could not stop for Death-
She kindly stopped for me-
The Carriage held but just Ourselves-
And Immortality.

-Original poem by Emily Dickinson

The first time Izuku witnessed death, he was at a hospital.

He was ten, or maybe a little younger. It was after a particularly bad cold, Alice sits on the back of the plastic chair, perching, resting a hand on his forehead, the cold a quiet comfort, just like the watery roses, and something purple. His mother was with him, and she combed through his hair with her fingers as they both waited for his name to be called. He felt awful, but the memory of her touch remains something rhythmic, something soothing.

He remembers hearing the screech of tires outside, and a raising voices from a commotion. He doesn't remember what happened, but he recalls Alice, turning her head, and gazing across the pale interior of the hospital.

A stretcher was rushed into the building, as nerses and paramedics ran by its side. Calls for help were heard, and he saw doctors, rushing out to meet them. He was too young to understand much of what was going on- other than that it was an emergency. His mother clasped her hands over her mouth as she gasped, straightening to see more of the situation. Machines were hooked up to the injured person- and someone started chest compressions. Alice's presence remained by his side, but he also saw her, across the room, by the dying patient's bed, quiet.

Omnipresence is weird.

Then he heard silence- silence as a concept, and it sounded the loudest among the whale songs in the air. Gently he smelled something floral, and something old, like wood, but also damp, like soil.

Sezia Marena stepped out of something dark. Not starlight like the rest of the whales, but rather something dark, something he couldn't define. She was dressed in purples, and draped in black. Her hair was blue, and there was a scythe in her hand, resting there before it clinked against the floor. She took a step, funeral flowers and old wood heralding her arrival, and picked up Alice's hand, bangs swaying to hide her eyes as she bent down, and kissed the tip of her fingers.

He watched as the cetacean took a seat by the patient's side, and her fingers gazed their cheek.

He watched as the patient died.

Thyme's form drapes over him.

Her arms wrap around his shoulders, and her not-scent blankets him. Gentle. Rosemary is silent where she sits, leaning against the railing where All Might stood, his wound something gnarly, emaciated form slumped and... lonely.

He sort of expected the reply. He's not stupid. What he said makes sense- being a hero is dangerous, he knows first hand. The Witness of Death's figure is constant where heroes are, he'd have to be stupid to think that she won't be with him if he becomes one.

Doesn't mean the words didn't sting, though.

"Being a hero comes with its own risks, and so..." All Might's admittance didn't stab at his heart, there was no pain, just a sensation like falling away and the air in his lungs doesn't follow. "I cannot simply say you can become a hero even without power."

He's not too surprised at All Might's appearance, either. He really should've guessed. It's what Alice had been hinting at, when they did their research topic on All Might. That's what she meant by him still being blinded by his admiration. He really should've noticed.

3 hours,3 hours. How did he not notice? Appearance patterns was one of the first things Alice taught him to analyse. A fight against a villain 4 years ago, all of these are facts he had in his hands. He looks up to meet the hero's eyes.

The man doesn't face him, turning away, and Izuku would almost say he looks a little ashamed. "The world can be terrible sometimes," All Might sighs, looking out and over the city, "and it is a wonderful sentiment that you have there, but you don't have to be a hero to do something about it. There are many other occupations that are helpful." He offers, though he doesn't sound remotely convinced himself. "Police work for example is a wonderful occupation."

It is, though. And he knows some wonderful detectives himself as well. But he knows so much. Izuku knows so much, and can know so much. He only needed to ask. When the entire world's suffering and perils are but a single question away, how can Izuku stop himself from knowing?

And who can do anything about them, but a hero?

"I understand," Izuku murmurs, "I understand." He sounds calm, but the words felt like graphite on sand paper and breaking mechanical pencils. Thyme's arms tighten around him. "Thank you."

The words of gratitude sounds empty, and All Might turns away. Izuku doesn't look up as the hero gives a final request for him to keep his injury quiet, and leaves. The metal door screeching open, then the scent of rosemaries vanishing with the door swinging shut.

Faintly, he hears Miss Rosemary murmur. Hypocrite.

What does she mean?

'Izuku,'Thyme's hair is soft where it touches him, and it draws him from his thoughts just as gently. She's kneeling on the ground, silks and gauze of her robe cool against his skin, tawny braids tapping against his shoulders. She feels soft, and very, very warm. He lifts a hand, and gently hugs back.

"I'm okay." He says, even though its not completely the truth. "I'm okay."

His fingers clings to the satin gauze around Thyme's elbows, though, and refuses to let go.

Bakugo Katsuki is constantly at war with himself.

'War' is an umbrella term, for what Ruslan witnesses. Often there are scarcely any human language capable of summarising their domain- what they chose. Alice and Sezia has clearer boundaries, as well as Thyme. But so many of them drift. What makes war? How do you define tragedy? It makes it difficult to explain, though he is glad. What he witness may not be pleasant, most of the time. But it allows him to stay near Izuku, and that brings him comfort.

Most of the time around Izuku, Ruslan spent witnessing his encounters with Bakugou Katsuki. The boy's pride and anger something that permeates so much of what he witnesses that he's scarcely surprised.

But then it changed.

Of course, it's only natural that he changes- people change, especially the young ones,constantly. They do nothing but change,grow. And Bakugo Katsuki grows conflicted, while Ruslan watches as he makes mistakes and get mad about it, and makes another mistake.

The boy has so much anger in him, and he has no idea what to do with it. And slowly he starts witnessing more of Katsuki alone than not. It burns in him, so much of it, and it hurts him. Though the boy would never admit it. Ruslan watches as he grabs his schoolmate by his collar, and snarls. In his other hand, Izuku's notebook hangs, limp with water stains still spreading across.

"Fix this." He demands, and the girl whose collar he grabbed flinches.

"O-o-okay!"

She takes the notebook with trembling hands. Her quirk flashes, and the water stains recedes, leaving behind pristine paper and Izuku's neat handwriting. She flinches again, as Katsuki snatches the book from her hands, and runs off with her friends, waiting nervously at the mouth of the alley.

(Her name is Tegami, and she loves her sister. One of Alice's, a lucky child.)

Katsuki watches her go, and clicks his tongue in annoyance. He lowers his head, angry again, as he flicks through the notebook to check for any damage. It's mostly fine, having been restored by the girl's quirk what little notes Izuku has taken today written in print on the inner side of the first page. Katsuki skims through them, and his expression twists with a tremor at his lips.

Ruslan sighs. Katsuki is prideful- he is bound for greatness, and the nitroglycerin in his palms is proof and the only proof he needs such is the way it always had been for him, and the 'truth' he was told. He doesn't know how to deal with being wrong, or being helpless, because he never had been.

Until Inko's coma, that is.

Ruslan knows every thought that runs through the boy's mind, right now. Every train, and every stray, as it runs through his own in this tangled, flayed constant war. It's one of those things that he doesn't tell Izuku. They cetaceans may not have much concept of privacy, but they know when to keep their mouths shut.

This is something they have to work out themselves.

"FUCK!"

The boy snarls, and spits, frustration and anger coming to a peak. And Ruslan watches as his foot connects with a bottle on the ground, his fingers gripped tight around the notebook, reining in his quirk with a grip that almost hurts so that it doesn't burn the paper. The bottle flies off, hitting the wall before the cap busted off. And Ruslan feel himself shifting into being, to witness-

Fukuzawa Chinsa.

His eyes widen. 'Fuck,'he murmurs, and reaching

He finds the part within Izuku that is always at war with himself, and starlight scatters.

Izuku takes the stairs.

His legs feel heavy, but the route takes a shorter time than he expected. The lady at the security desk pays him no mind as he passes, eyes glazed over... oh, she's just daydreaming. He shakes his head, and pushes the door open.

Air rushes him, and the sun is bright outside. There are damp spots on the ground from the light rains yesterday, and Thyme is by his side. He closes his eyes, and azaleas waft through the air. Faintly he feels in the not-air the tremors of whale songs, and glacial hums. Someone familiar brushes his bangs behind his ears. Then

Gunpowder.

Izuku's eyes snap open, and he tastes the metal on his tongue- it crests, and starlight scatters around him. Thyme perks up, but her expression turns grave swiftly after.

'Izuku- Katsuki.'Thyme's voice came first, as urgency colours her tone and she leans to take him by the shoulders. Someone else takes hold of his arm, and he meets red eyes, and the reflections of metal embellishments on propped up lapels. And the words that come next don't make a sound, but it hits him like a truck.

'Chi- the sludge villain got Katsuki.'

He feels dizzy.

"What? How?" Arms unseen by anyone other than himself tugs, and Izuku lets himself be pulled along. First a walk, turning frantic, and it breaks into a run. "All Might had him, right? The soda bottles-" He realises, then, slightly late, that he had grabbed onto All Might's leg when the man took off. "-Where!"

Somewhere in the distance to his left, an explosion goes off. And smoke rises towards the skies. Something grips his heart, and Izuku swallows bile.

Hands usher him, and Izuku follows their lead. The soles of his shoes hit asphalt, gripping, skidding, as he fumbles for his phone to enter a message, the device almost tumbling from his hand as he returns it to his pocket. "Are there heroes on the scene yet?" His voice hurts, against the cold winds of early winter, and each word scrapes his throat like sandpaper.

'Kamui Woods and Backdraft are there.'Ruslan answers,'Death Arms, Slugger and Warbler also just arrived on scene. Mt Lady is on her way.'His expression twists,'they're backing down since their quirks aren't compatible.'

"And Mt Lady?"

'She needs two lanes- Chinsa retreated into a pedestrian zone,'Thyme sounds frantic, as she keeps pace with him, gliding. The thyme petals and leaves of her crown trailing behind as she does. She looks conflicted, as she chooses her next words, Mister Ruslan cuts her off.

'She's not the kind of person to risk her first day.'He states. Thyme makes a strangled not-sound.

'Ruslan!'

'Not now, Eikengast.'

Izuku shakes his head, and breaks the steady pace of his run into a sprint, his lungs burn as he makes the final stretch towards his destination, and feels the familiar heat blow past him in the face as he turns the corner, face to face with the cause of the commotion in front of him.

The street is engulfed in flames- and explosions scatter across the area every now and then, causing the closer spectators to flinch away or gasp with something like excitement. The heat contrasts against the cold of the wintry weather, rolling out in gusts of hot air, blasting him in the face with each new explosion.

Mud and gunk spatters as the street rocks with the shockwaves- light then sound before swiftly winds follow. Izuku weaves through the crowd in front of him, and lead fills his stomach. His mouth is dry, and his lungs burn from the run. The scent of ashes fill his nostrils, and it's not a not-scent, but something real. He tastes it in the back of his throat, and it burns.

In the midst of burning reds is a dark mass of something green, almost black. And in the midst of that, is a familiar mop of blond hair, and red eyes. And even after everything, Izuku-

Izuku chokes.

His feet feel like led. Guilt sticks to his being like the gunk soaked into one of his shoes, clinging to his damp socks. Fire and smoke fills his lungs- real fire and smoke, accompanied by the gunpowder of Mister Ruslan's presence, firmly on his left as Thyme watches on his right, hands clasped over her lips and wide-eyed. There's something sweet in the air, familiar, something he's since learned to fear, learned to dodge as it appears. Nitroglycerin. Kacchan's quirk.

His childhood... friend? Ex-friend? Its been a long time since Izuku knew what to call their strange and estranged connection anymore. He tears from the sludge that traps him, and more circles him to bind. Kacchan tears at his arms, and again another line of explosions tears the street apart. He doesn't know how long it's been since he arrived, time passes him in a way that he neither notices its speed nor its crawl.

Where's the fire department?

He smells the not-scent of rosemaries, but All Might is out of time. And Kacchan is alone, bound in strings of sewage and sludge and sediment, tearing and reaching for freedom. A line of heroes stand, doing absolutely nothing and then Thyme gasps, and Izuku feels Mister Ruslan's fingers freeze.

He smells the not-scent of funeral flowers, then something like aged wood. Another melody joins that perpetual whale song in his ears and it sounds like silence.

Izuku doesn't know what it is, really. Perhaps it was several things at once. The fear on Kacchan's face, the glimmer of tears in those red eyes, or his slackening shoulders. From what, he doesn't know. Or perhaps it was the reappearance of something that haunted him the past years the sway of a blue braid, a figure in a black cloak, or that clink as the heel of her scythe meets the ground.

Death steps into being, her eyes are gold, and she has never looked more like the very embodiment of dread. Faintly, something else reaches his nose. Something sweet, a little spicy- azaleas.

Are you kidding? There's not much of a choice at all.

He moves.

He met her again, choking on smoke, his own saliva, and something like blood.

His mother's head limp against his shoulder, and Kacchan's voice, growing desperate with each cry. Something sticky leaked, and his shoulder grew damper by the second.

He met her again, as the whale song was consumed by something like silence. She descended over the wreckage that was their car like a reaper. The hem of her black cloak flying, glint of her scythe cold, and she peered into his eyes, numb with fear.

Hers were calm, and shone the most brilliant gold.

Dammit that bleeding heart of a boy-

'Izuku!'

Eikengast's cry falls on deaf ears, her hand reaches but doesn't grasp, Ruslan watches with wide eyes as the boy slips from her fingers, and breaks from the blockade of officers. Something snaps in him, like that strap on Izuku's backpack as he charges into the fires and smoke, towards Bakugo Katsuki, and towards where Marena stands.

His- teacher? Mentor? Parent? It's difficult to put relationships between cetaceans into words- her eyes widen at the boy's movements, and she briefly meets his gaze, before she repositions herself, coming into being by the boy's side, just as Ruslan scatters his form into starlight to reach him.

'To your left,'she warns, just as Ruslan arrives, and Izuku glances towards her briefly before something creaks in that direction, and he dodges the movement made him stumble, and the cetacean steadies his shoulders before the boy kept on running,'careful.'

Something gets stuck in Izuku's throat- a word of gratitude, as he glances briefly up towards the witness of death. He doesn't voice it, however, and instead keeps running. Reaching an arm back he grabs his backpack, now with a snapped strap just something that disbalances and hinders his pace, and flings it towards Fukuzawa Chinsa, aiming-

Oh this ruthless,brilliantboy. Alice rubbed off on him.

He aims for the eye, already red and puffy from where Izuku stabbed once, last time. The assailant recoils with a yowl, and Izuku reaches out to yank a broken piece of plastic pipe out of the rubble on the ground. It breaks apart where it connects with the concrete, and the boy lets out a choked cry.

"Kacchan!"

"-Deku?!"

The boy wields the pipe like a staff, the way Ruslan taught him to, after he asked for self defence lessons, as he leaps. The jump is hardly strong enough to make the final stretch towards Katsuki, but Ruslan braces him, and Marena holds him by the back of his collar, much like how you'd hold a cat by the scruff of its neck, and pushes him forwards. Something clenches in Ruslan as he watches Marena, waiting for the presence to rumble a warning. But nothing, and somewhere else in the world she meets his gaze with reassurance.

'I'll be fine.'

The force was enough to propel Izuku forwards, allowing him to channel all the force of gravity into a jab straight into the villain's gums, aiming right at the gaps between his teeth. Chinsa screeches- his gums splitting apart as the jagged end of the pipe digs into it, drawing blood. The force from the jump, as well as Marena's push, was enough to force the pipe through flesh a good amount before Izuku starts to fall, and using the full force of his weight, he presses down, widening the wound further.

Chinsa howls with pain, and the sludge loosens, releasing Katsuki from its grasp. The boy burst from his confines, eyes wide with disbelief.

"What the FUCK are you doing here!?" His voice is hoarse, and it hurts, Ruslan can feel it. Meanwhile him and Marena are both holding onto Izuku, helping him keep his hold as the villain writhes in pain and attempts to fling the boy away. Izuku struggles, as one of his arms are flung off the pipe, so he instead reaches for Katsuki. "I don't need your help- leave me alone!"

Izuku doesn't hear the crack in Kastuki's voice. But Ruslan feels the burning of the boy's eyes. "I can't just- let you die!" Tears stain Izuku's cheeks, as his hands find Bakugo's now freed arm. He yanks, and while Ruslan holds him steady, Marena grabs hold of Izuku's arm, and yanks with him. The force was enough to tear Katsuki from the villain's hold. But noticing the boy's escape, Chinsa screeches, and more of his sludge answers his call.

"Like hell I'm letting you go!"

"Yes, you are, you sewage bastard!" Katsuki snarls, and with his free arm he aims his palms at his eyes, firing off an explosion right in the other, uninjured eye. Chinsa screams, throwing more sludge around the two boys blindly. Using the pipe as leverage, Izuku kicks and tries to yank more of Katsuki away from the sludge. Meanwhile, Marena's form flickers with something dark, and she meets his eyes meaningfully before she vanishes from view.

Elsewhere in the world, her song is interrupted by a sigh.

'They'll be alright.' Ruslan murmurs, halfway across the world, amidst gunfire and ash and smoke in a barren land where she sat, next to a child whose lifeblood is slowly draining away. She doesn't meet his gaze, her hand still resting gently atop the child's hair.

Hope arrives with the Symbol of Peace.

The fire brigade has arrived, and the heroes congratulate the blond young man on his powerful quirk, and how he was able to escape, and Toshinori watches as they clap him on the back; meanwhile the green-haired young man sits quietly next to a ambulance, a thick blanket around his shoulders as he massages something into his palms. Paramedics rush around him, but no one seems to spare him a glance.

He even got that blanket and burn cream by asking for it, and no one moved to tend to the boy the only one who seems to be paying any attention at all to him was the blond teen who he rescued, red eyes staring across the short distance, almost glaring.

Not having much time anymore, 'All Might' has left, and Toshinori got back towards the scene with the crowd. Something in his chest feels hollow he's late for his meeting with Nighteye now, far too late, but something seems to murmur, stoping him, telling him that perhaps there's something else.

The boy's words return. 'The world sucks sometimes, I want to be able to do something about it.'

Today, none of the heroes were able to do anything- so the boy did. Meanwhile, the blond teen has escaped from the few heroes and paramedics swarming him, and is making his way towards the green-haired boy.

What is his name?

The blonde boy seems to be yelling something, and hands him an item that Toshinori couldn't see. There's a pause, before the boy turns around and storms off. He turns back to where the green-haired young man stood- and he's not there anymore.

That was quick. He looks around, he's nowhere in the crowd. The boy's lack of presence is- a little startling. Toshinori searches the area for a bit more before giving up, and he makes his way over to the ambulance, and the paramedic who the boy had gotten the blanket from.

"Excuse me," the woman meets his eyes, startled, as Toshinori hands her his business card- the one as All Might's secretary, "the boy with the green hair from earlier, he asked for a blanket, correct? Do you happen to know his name?"

"Ah- um," the woman stumbles over her words a little, digging through her memories, "it was Midorima... wait no, Midoriya Izuku! Right, Midoriya Izuku," she sighs, before her expression shifts into one of concern, "is something the matter?"

"No, nothing," he waves his hands, shaking his head, "nothing of the sort, All Might was just impressed with his heroism earlier, as he ran into the fray."

The woman looks at him blankly for a moment, there's no recognition in her eyes. And that alarms Toshinori, because charging into the fire earlier is definitely something someone should've noted on- did no one notice and tell her? It takes a moment, before her eyes widens, "oh! Right, there was someone who ran in before, wasn't there? I completely forgot! Where is he now? Oh dear- how did no one notice!"

"He seems to have left, a little earlier." Toshinori provides, helpfully. "I'll be taking my leave, then."

He turns away, and something in him feels He feels emptied, tired- emotionally and physically. Pushing his quirk beyond the time limit has taken a toll on him, his body is sore, and his wound aches. Toshinori thinks about his meeting with Nighteye- his offer of a successor, and finds nothing in him to leave for his original destination.

Why, though? Toshinori closes his eyes. He wants to clear his mind- sort out the mess he's feeling right now. But these days he finds the people he can confide in growing less and less and alone, his thoughts does not make good company.

"Toshinori?"

He looks up, and there at the edge of the crowd stood a familiar face. Dark hair and eyes, a pale beige trenchcoat. Tsukauchi Naomasa stares across the short distance, slightly startled. "Naomasa," relief rushes him. The detective glances around quickly before approaching, "what are you doing here?"

"I got a text," he doesn't elaborate, "what happened? I heard people talking about All Might's involvement."

"I-" his voice catches, and he looks around, a little lost, "maybe we should talk somewhere else."

Izuku's whole body feels heavy.

He tastes ash on his tongue- real, tangible and lingering, and smoke clings to his skin. He sits, quiet, and thymes waft through the not-air around him. The ache of the bruises and stinging of the burns has since dulled, mist around him soothing the pain- healing isn't Thyme's specialty, but Azalea is... away, far too often, and for far too long for him to depend on her all the time Aegir said he should stock up the first aid kit back home, just in case. But did he listen? No, not really.

There's a hand on his shoulder, steady, gentle. Rosemary hovers just beyond the gathered crowd. He smells gunpowder still, and the not-scent of funeral flowers and old wood remains fresh on his mind.

Then comes the clicking of gears, like clockwork staccato, and a colour joins the watercolour world around him.

"Oi, Deku!"

Gunpowder doesn't accompany Kacchan, as he storms up towards him. His face is smeared with soot, and the real smell of smoke and ash follows his steps. Izuku meets his eyes, tired. They're red, and angry, and Izuku can't read a thing from him.

"What," the lack of emotions in his own voice startles Izuku. But he can't bring himself to feel any more, he's tired. Too tired.

He wants to go home.

Kacchan sputters at his attitude, taken aback. But he doesn't snap, the anger in him seems to rise, and Ruslan begins loitering around the peripherals of his vision. Finally, he bites back something, a snarl? A comment? And then releases a shaky breath.

"I didn't need your help." He says. His voice simmered with something. Shaking. He opens his mouth to say more, but stops. Gunpowder reaches around them again, and Ruslan slowly approaches. Izuku braces himself.

Something smacks him in the chest. It lands, barely hurting, and flops onto his lap. Izuku catches it, more out of instinct than anything else, and picks it up.

A notebook.

More specifically, his. Notebook. The one that they flung out the window after school. Kacchan stares at him intently, waiting, but then his eyes dip down towards its paper surface, and his expression twists.

Izuku follows his gaze. The protective plastic layer is singed, melted in several places, and grime sticks to its pages. Dirtied and matted with the sewage water from the villain.

'Oh,'Thyme murmurs,'the water stains are gone.'

Izuku opens his mouth to say something, but finds nothing in him to speak up or speak about. So he simply meets Kacchan's eyes. The teen glares at the notebook in Izuku's hand, a series of emotions running through his expression. Disbelief-anger- dissatisfaction? Then he clicks his tongue, and storms off.

The clockwork sound leaves with him.

What was that? Maybe another day Izuku would have the energy to think about it, muse, maybe come to some conclusions. But he's tired now. He closes his eyes.

Hands guide him as he sneaks away from the scene.

15 minutes later saw him stepping out of a local pharmacy, burn cream and bandages in a plastic bag, snug against a singed and dirtied empty notebook. There's a bone deep ache in him, as he breaths in. And out.

The concept of silence descends, and with it, old wood and funeral flowers. Izuku opens his eyes, and someone else is next to him.

'Sezia,'Thyme greets, and Izuku stays quiet, the witness of dreams lifts her head, looking up towards somewhere else, a sad look in her violet eyes.

"Marena-san." He murmurs. "Why are you here?"

The cetacean levels him with an even gaze, draped in a black cloak, and her eyes molten gold.'There's a man in this building.'She says as she turns, and looks up towards a window in the building where the pharmacy is. Her tone is neutral, calm.'He has struggled with a disease all his life. He was told he wouldn't live a day past 40. He turned 82 last August,'she pauses, 'he held his granddaughter for the first time in November. January, his husband died. And right now, he's taking a nap with his granddaughter, his son is in the kitchen, making dinner.'

She closes her eyes.'He won't wake up.'

She says it like a statement. And something catches in his throat as he follows her gaze up, towards that window. He tries imagining. Who they might've been, what they might've done with life. The kind of pain his passing would cause. The kind of life they led. And something in his heart twists.

Ne can never quite read her, or understand how she witnesses this. Sezia Marena haunts a deep, dark part of his mind, one he usually prefers staying out of.

Dying isn't a particularly pleasant notion after all.

"But why are you here, then?" He pulls himself from that little dark corner, and looks back towards the cetacean. She pulls her eyes away from the window, and back towards him, still eerily calm. She doesn't open her mouth to speak. She doesn't need to.

'Taihaku Yoshihide is dead.'her words are even. Like her gaze, and everything about her.'You might want to talk to the detective.'

When Toshinori leaves, Naomasa slumps onto the table.

They had settled into a more private booth in a near by cafe, where the blond had recounted his encounter with a quirkless boy, right from the sludge villain's attempt to attack him, to the reveal on the rooftop. Toshinori sounded regretful as he recounted his reaction to the boy's earnest question, and Naomasa's heart seized- it had done so again when he talked about him rushing into the fire. He spoke about Nighteye's offer without specifying much- this is still a public place after all- and his wavering decision, all around a single quirkless, reckless green haired boy.

Midoriya Izuku.

It took Toshinori a while to recall the name, he seems frustrated about it, seeing his determination to figure out what to do about this, and that gut feeling he has. "Something in me is telling me I'm going to regret something, if I'd left this be just like that." Was what he said.

Naomasa didn't give much advice- what could he say? Certainly not swaying him in any particular direction. But he offers to try and find a way for Toshinori to contact the boy. The man smiles at him gratefully, before he leaves, dragging his steps behind him.

Naomasa closes his eyes, feeling an oncoming headache as he sighs, more talking to himself than anything else.

"Izuku-kun... What am I going to do with you?"

(Unbeknownst to him, a woman with a large brimmed hat sits on the table to his side, chuckling. Meanwhile a blonde man in sea glass colours and a monocle cusses about recklessness in every language known and not known to man.)

A/N:

Imagine being able to know everything about the world and the people around you if only you asked. Poor Izuku.

Bakugo is a bit more messed up in this story. Izuku is a little too preoccupied with omniscient beings around him though. Hope he notices.

I finished writing this pulling an all nighter at first actually. My AN over in Ao3 for this is unhinged lmao