Wake Me Up reviews

Midoriya Izuku is a normal teenage boy with a deep dark secrets and he finds himself caught between an old rival and a new ... love?!

My Hero Academia/僕のヒーローアカデミア - Rated: T - English - Humor/Romance - Chapters: 7 - Words: 13,456 - Reviews: 142 - Updated: 5/16/2022 - Published: 9/23/2020 - Izuku M., Katsuki B., Shouto T.


A/N: All right guys yeah i know what you're thinking i have like 18948349 wips but i just cantttt resist this one fic bunny and so :p yeah! New ficcy it is! Fair warning OKAY it starts slow but it's gonna get really really good I SWEAR. Don't like don't read :p also NO FLAMING!. Oh yeah disclaimer I do not own My Hero Academia XD don't sue me :p


Chapter 1: What! My Dad is WHO!

I wake up with a gasp.

"A nightmare," I groan. Really? Right on the first day of school?

Hm … but what did I dream about? It's all hazy in my head.. There was something about … Santa Clauses? Yeah, Santa Clauses, and a heart attack … vapes … yeah, there was something about vapes. Ugh. my head is pounding.

"I~zu~ku~" I hear my mom call me from outside my room. "Get up, sleepyhead! You don't want to be late on your first day, do you now?"

"Coming!" I yell back. I rub my sleepy eyes and get off my bed with a bounce.

My name is Midoriya Izuku. I'm 5'2'', too skinny for my age. A lot of people tell me I look like Gerard Way which is great because they are a major fucking hottie (A/N: if you don't know who he is get the hell out of here!). I'm fifteen and I'm a goth (in case you couldn't tell),

I stare dissatisfied into the mirror, and a pair of verdant green eyes with gold flecks in them stare back at me. I hate how unruly my emerald green hair is in the morning. They are so unruly, the seaweed eau de nil blonde green verdant curls bounce with every movement I make. They contrast with my pale tan freckled smooth spotless unblemished freckled skin. Ugh.

I open my wardrobe and just put on whatever clothes I get my hands on. I don't really care how I look. I end up wearing a black crop tee and ripped jeans with fishnet hand warmers and chainlink chokers and a pair of badass combat boots. Yep. Ready to face the day.

Those little shits won't know what's coming at 'em! I think to myself.

The smell of waffles and bacons and eggs waft through the air as I enter the kitchen. My mom is humming as she cooks. "There you are, you silly boy. Now eat your food your still growing after all"

"Mom, I'm gonna be late for school!" I say, stuffing my face with bacon. I hear the bus honk from outside the wwindow. "Oh SHIT the bus is here!" I leap off my chair.

Mom tuts disapporivngly. "Hey, language, mister!"

I roll my eyes. "Whatever, mom!" I feel a little bad at the hurt look in her eyes. Her eyes are exactly like mine, her face too, her genetics really won over. "That's not the way you should talk to your mother" she scolds me.

I glare at her. "Well, tell that to dad!" I snap at her, before rushing out of the door. I can see the betrayed expression on her face before the door slams.

I roughly wipe the tears off my eyes, smearing my eyeliner across my face but I don't care. Ugh. Why do I have to ruin everything? It's not mom's fault that dad left. It's not her fault that dad … doesn't love me.

It's my own fault for not having a Quirk.

"Get in, kid! What are you standing there for!" The bus driver says

"Okay, okay, geez," I mutter under my breath as I climb up the bus. Whatever. This is no time to think about those things anyway. It's my first day at UA Koukousei and I've decided to become the best Hero of all time, out of spite.

Eat your heart out, dad, I think to myself.

I ignore everyone on the bus and sit right at the back, leaning on the window and putting my earphones in.

How can you see into my eyes

Like open doors?

Leading you down into my core

Where I've become so numb

I'm closing my eyes and starting to feel the music right when someone yanks out my earphones roughly. "Hey!" I yell, looking up angrily. "Give that back, you asshole—"

My words catch in my throat. I gape as I realize who's standing in front of me. No way, it can't be … him?

"Kacchan?" I blurt out in disbelief.

It's really him! The same blodne hair, the same piercing crimson red orbs. He's taller now, too. I haven't seen him since the end of the school year.

I frown as I notice something. Somehow, Kacchan is … blushing? Weird. I shake the thought off—that doesn't matter right now. "What the hell are you doing here?" I say harshly to Kacchan.

Kacchan and I, we are not on good terms. We never have been on good terms. I hate this guy. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I've known Kacchan my whole life. I hate this guy. We are not on good terms. I hate this guy. I glare at him with my bicolored eyes. One of my eyes is verdant eau de nile emerald green just like my mom but my other eye is cerulean sapphire luminous arctic sky blue orb. I wonder if I got it from my dad my mom never explained.

"That's the question I should be askin' you," Kacchan snaps back. Jeez, he's as crude as ever. "The hell are you doin' here, Useless Deku? I told you to never go to UA Koukousei! A Quirkless guy like you could never be a Hero!"

"We're late," Midoriya Izuku says.

I freeze—the nickname triggering something deep in my subconscious.

Useless Deku. Quirkless. Useless Deku. Quirkless. Useless Deku. Quirkless. Useless Deku. The names ring in my head torturously. Flashbacks enter my head playing behind my eyes like DVD records. I suddenly get reminded all over again of how cruel Kacchan was to me throughout my childhood. Suddenly I see red and before I know it I punched him in the face

"OW! What the hell was that, you crazy fuck?"

I stare at him in shock. I can't believe I just did that! I punched Kacchan? Why did I do that! I curse myself. Baka!

Ignoring my shock, Kacchan lunges at me "Just so you watch!" Kacchan says, grabbing the front of my shirt until our face got close to the point I can count all the eyelashes on Kacchan's eyes. "Temee! You won't get away with this, you—you—you—!" his face suddenly goes red and he lets me go. "Tch! Kusoyarou!"

He suddenly leaves me and walks away.

Huh?

I blink, staring at his disappearing back. Is he not gonna… punch me? Beat the heck out of me, or throw me against a wall at the very least? He's just gonna … leave me alone after what I did?

That was … weird.

Oh well.

I shrug, and go back to sleep on the bus. I put my headphones in feeling the music

suunen tatte mo kage wa kienai

kanjou bakari ga tsunotte iku

uzukumatte hitori egaite ita

When I wake up we are already at UA Kokousei and we are told to enter class 1- FG H I sit at the back and to my annoyance Kacchan is sitting right in front of me, in CLASS. I huff in annoyance. Just typical of me—i have the worst luck on earth!

The bell rings and the whole class waits and waits but no teacher is coming in. But suddenly,

"Gahhh!" a pink haired girl says pointing at a lump on the floor "what is that"

"That's our teacher, moron" Kacchan says rolling his eyes

The lump moves and it's actually a person. He is a scraggly looking man with long messy hair and deep eyeabags. "You brats. Welcome to UA Kokousei"

I gasp the moment I recognize who he is. "You are the best Underground Pro Hero Eraserhead," I blurt. I didn't realize I said it outloud until I see everybody looking at me. A blush spreads all over my freckled button nose bridge.

The teacher narrows his eyes. This kid recognizes me, an underground Hero? Aizawa Shouta thinks. "That's right," he says outloud. "Everybody introduce yourself. Starting with you kid."

"Oh, um, umm." I stand up, feeling everybody's eyes on me and I suddenly want the earth to swallow me whole. Stop it, Izuku, I tell myself. You are different now. You wanna be the best Hero ever, remember? I tilt up my chin. "My name is Midoriya Izuku. And I wanna be the best Hero ever" I announce to the room.

Silence. I start to go red. And then,

"What's your Quirk?" somebody says.

"I—" come on, Izuku! Be strong. Just say it! Say you don't have it, and show them you can still be a Hero without a Quirk! "I—I—"

I can't do it. I run out of the room.

I hear the teacher calling after me, but I don't care and I run faster until I bump into someone. I scream as I slip but then I feel strong arms holding me and I look into a pair of bicolored eyes under bicolored hair. A boy! Our faces are so close that I can count his eyelashes. "W-w-wh-who are you?" I stutter.

The boy doesn't answer, he only stares at me with his cold bicolored orbs. He smells like musk and rain and cinnamon and his hair looks so soft. He sets me down gently. His face is so cold like his demeanor. "Why are you crying," he says. His voice is deep and I find myself blushing for some reason. Dammit, I didn't even realize I was crying. "That's none of your business!" I yell. "Get away from me"

"Get away from him, Todoroki!"

"We don't have time for this. We're late," Midoriya Izuku says.

I gasp and look. To my surprise, Kacchan is standing in the hallway, glaring at the boy with the bicolored eyes. What's Kacchan doing here? And … I look at the other boy. He's much taller than me, staring coldly at Kacchan. So his name is Todoroki..

Wait. Todoroki … like Pro-Hero Endeavor, Todoroki Enji?!

"You're Endeavor's son!" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Todoroki looks at me and for a second I can see a look of pain in his eyes that disappears quickly and then his expression is flat and unfeeling once again. "I don't have a father," he says icily.

I gasp. Just like me..

"Whatever who cares!" Kacchan says who is always a douchebag. "Just get away from him, you hot and cold FREAK."

"Tch," Todoroki tchs. "Who are you to tell me what to do?"

"You wanna go, fucker?"

"Stop, stop!" I say. "Why are you both fighting? This is ridiculous!" Both of them look at me and then look away. their faces look … red … are they … blushing? I'm so confused. I turn to Kacchan. "And you! Kacchan, why are you even here? Why are you even following me"

(A/N: fufufu… izu-chan, you really don't know why? XD

Izuku: huh? *confused*

Bakugou: *blushes* shut the fuck up, you stupid author!

Todoroki: … tch.)

"Why am I even here?" Kacchan echoes, looking baffled as he glares at me. "Are you stupid, deku? I followed you because I'm … because I'm wo—wor—" he suddenly shuts himself up and his face goes red. "Tch! Baka nano" he tchs and walks away in a flash.

(A/N: awwww kacchan… somebody's got a crush~ XD

Bakugou: s-s-s-shut up! I'll kill you!

A/N: you can't do that, I'm the author, remember? B) fufufu

Bakugou: u-ugh … tch!)

How weird. What a strange first day. "Um, anyway… I'm gonna go," I mutter. But before I could walk away a cold hand circles around my wrist. Todoroki is holding me. "Hey, let me go—"

"What's your name?"

Gosh, his hold is so tight. "M-Midoriya Izuku"

His gaze pierces my soul. His right eye is gray like steel and his left is blue like arctic ice trapped in an orb. "I'll see you around, Midoriya Izuku," the half-redheaded boy says, before letting me go and leave abruptly.

What a weird boy, I think, as I walk away. What a weird school. I wonder what the rest of the school year has in store… I have a feeling something ominous is—

"Excuse me, son? Why are you not in your class?"

I turn, and find myself standing face to face with a gaunt, tall teacher with blonde hair. His eyes are cerulean blue inside the dark crevices of his face. Something about those blue eyes seems familiar.. "Uhm … um … sorry, sir, I was only looking for the bathroom.."

The teacher stares at me for a moment. There is a deep sadness in the lines of his face. "The bathroom is over there, kid."

"T-thank you, sir..?"

"Toshinori-sensei," Toshinori-sensei says. "I'll see you in class, Izuku-kun"

What the hell? I wonder as I walk to the bathroom. That's weird … I never told him his name, so how did he know what my name was..?

As I look at my reflection, realization hits me.

His blue eyes look familiar because … I stare into it every single morning in the mirror…

My heart beats loudly in my ears. I never knew my dad because he left when I was little. My mom never admits it but I know it's because my dad hates me because I'm a Quirkless loser. But could it be … could it be that that man is my—my—my—my—my f—

"You're wrong," a voice says . a voice that i recognize immediately

Gasping, i turn, and there he is — standing in the middle of the UA hallway. I GAPE.

"Oh my God, you … you ARE.."

That blond hair! Those blue eyes! Izuku would recognize that face anywhere. The Number One Hero in all of Japan itself. The Number One Hero in all of the world! The person Izuku has idolized ever since he knew how to speak. Mouth agape and eyes asparkle, Izuku points and says with a trembling voice: "Naruto?!"

(A/N: O_o

Bakugou: what the fuck?!

Todoroki: !)

"Fear not, for I Am Here," Naruto says.

"No way, Naruto, is that really you?" Izuku says. "Naruto, the Number One Hero in all of Japan, the Number One Hero in all of the world, the Hero I've always idolized to an unhealthy degree ever since I knew how to speak and also the reason I wake up every single day and not jump off the roof?"

"Yes it's me, Naruto!" Naruto says. "And I am your father."

Izuku smiles and looks right back into the screen. He says, p"And that's the story of how I became the greatest hero. THE END p " &/pm$&/y— $$lore$:& :mipsumy—my—lor& /em ipsumdolor sitssamaaaaaaeeeeeeetttttttttttconsecteturadipiscilitconnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn—p/p

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h3 class="landmark heading" id="work"Chapter Text/h3

p"Didn't you hear me? I said we're late," Midoriya Izuku says./p

"What?" Todoroki Natsuo says.

"Thirty-six hours. Oh. Twenty-eight hours … no. Forty-three? No. We're late. Six hours six minutes six seconds left. Mm, no. It doesn't matter anymore, does it."

"I'm sorry..?"

"I said, we're here," the kid says. "Stop the car."

Natsuo is pretty sure they haven't arrived yet, but he looks out the dashboard and yep—they're at the sea. Somehow, the island of Tartarus is in front of their eyes, just a few miles out, an ominous spot farther out on the horizon. "The hell," Natsuo says. Could've sworn they were just on the highways. He laughs, puzzled. "Highways are built different these days, huh?"

No reply from his passenger. There is a sound of a seatbelt clicking open, and Natsuo watches from the rear-view mirror as the strange kid steps out of the car without preamble. For a moment, as the car door opens, Natsuo can hear the sound of the sea—the waves crashing to shore, the wind crooning in the air. Then the door shuts and he's all alone in the car, watching his passenger walk straight into the sea like an insane person.

Here is the thing. It's been a good day for Natsuo. Sort of. Actually, it's been fine. Nothing crazy. Finished some study workload at the lab, gone on a few rounds of his Uber-ing gig. This kid is just one of the dozens of weirdos Natsuo has picked up in his piece of shit car. Nothing special. Granted, no one has ever requested to go to Tartarus Special Prison For Villain Criminals, but what the hell, right? It's none of his goddamn business.

So Natsuo stays inside and watches. The kid is a few meters in front of the car and has started taking off his shoes and socks for some reason. The sun is lovely today, the light glinting off that off-putting scar on the side of the kid's head. None of his business.

Natsuo shifts his gear, getting ready to back out of the beach area. There is a ding from his phone—another rider has booked an Uber. He scrolls on his screen idly to tap accept, and as he does so several news notifications catch his eyes. Villains breaking loose, Heroes on the scene, major "apocalyptic" event possibly incoming, blah blah blah. Typical stuff.

Natsuo looks up to see the kid has literally walked into the sea. Literally. Both feet in water and all that. As time passes on, his already small silhouette is getting smaller and smaller.

Natsuo sighs. He clicks decline on the Uber app before getting out of the car.

The scent of the ocean assaults his senses immediately. The wind is stronger than he thought. Natsuo puts his hands into a cone before calling out, "Hey!"

No reply. He curses, takes off his shoes, rolls up his pants—damn it—and charges on. "Hey," Natsuo says, once he catches up. Natsuo grabs the kid's shoulder. "Hey. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The kid turns to look at him. Natsuo isn't sure what he expected—some sort of desperation, maybe, or anguish of some kind—but the kid's expression is alarmingly neutral. "Crossing the sea," he replies, and continues on crossing.

The water has reached his knees. Natsuo says, "This is—okay. First of all. What's your name?"

"Midoriya."

"Okay. I'm Todoroki.." Natsuo has half the mind to get back for his phone—he should call someone, like a hotline or something. "Midoriya, you should—uh. We should stop. Let's go back too the car and we can think this through, okay?"

"Think what through." He's still walking—the water is close to reaching the kid's waist now. Should Natsuo wrangle him physically and throw him back to the beach?

Natsuo's mind races. He's studied this, he's a psych major, isn't he? Fuck. "It's cold," Natsuo says, mustering some conviction into his voice. "It's dangerous. Let's go back to the beach, dry off. I have some lemonades, some chips—we can chill for a bit. We can talk. Whatever you're thinking about right now, we can talk it through. I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to—but let's put this off for a moment and just talk. Okay?"

Kid looks Natsuo's brother age. Maybe even younger. "We don't have Time for that," says Midoriya.

Natsuo huffs a laugh, not unkindly. "Sure we do," he says. "There is always time. We have all the time in the world. So—so let's go back."

The kid sighs. "That's the point," Midoriya says, which is confusing. His eyes go somewhere next to Natsuo's head as he says, "We don't have the time or the world. Look."

Natsuo looks back right in time to see the city plunging into chaos.

From this vantage point of the beach, you can't see the whole of Musutafu, but you can still ee specific landmarks such as the skyscrapers of UA and the Hero towers, the Musutafu Ferris wheel, and so on. And right now, Natsuo can see all of that just wrecked into havoc. "What the fuck…" Natsuo says. Far away, an explosion goes off—the light flashes across his face like a firework. "Is that a—is that a fucking Godzil—hey, wait, wait!"

Midoriya does not wait. His back is turned to Natsuo as he goes on to submerge himself within the depth of the ocean. "It's the end of the world, Todoroki-san. I'd advise you to do something better with the little Time you have left. Call your sister. Your mother, perhaps."

Okay, the tone this kid is using starts to annoy him a little. "Okay, psychic, great guess on the details of my family life," Natsuo snipes back as he grabs Midoriya's shoulders again to stop him from drowning himself or whatever the hell he's doing right now. "Stop, stop. Listen, even if it is the end of the world, and it's definitely not"—behind him he hears a roar of what definitely is a Godzilla—"that doesn't mean you should, uh, that doesn't mean you, uh..."

Midoriya raises an eyebrow at his sputtering. Natsuo finally finds his conviction within himself.

"That doesn't mean that you should try and kill yourself," Natsuo says. There. He said it. God, this is how he knows he isn't passing his major, impending apocalypse or not.

There is a change on Midoriya's bland expression at the mention of suicide—though it's not the one that Natsuo expects. The kid doesn't seem offended or hurt. Natsuo isn't sure what the look means, actually. "Shouldn't I," Midoriya says, which is just an incredible response overall. But hey, he's stopped walking towards certain death, so Natsuo's tactic must be working. "All right. What should I do, then, Todoroki-san?"

Behind them, the city has erupted in flames. They can hear the chaos all the way from here. It's the end of the world. "Er," Natsuo says eloquently.

Midoriya seems to take pity on him. "It's all right," says the kid in that annoyingly kindly tone, patting his arm a little. "I'm going to fix it."

Seawater splashes around as Midoriya moves forward again to a painful ocean death. He's starting to feel cold. "Fix it?" Natsuo echoes, incredulous. But maybe it's not so incredulous as he thinks; It's an interesting world that Natsuo lives in after all. Who's to say that this scrawny kid won't save them all? He moves forward to follow Midoriya, fighting against the currents. "Fix it how?"

There are no visible Quirk affectations emanating from this kid—not one that Natsuo can see, anyway—but you never know. "Uhuh."

"How—" damn it, these jeans are definitely ruined. "How. Exactly. Is drowning yourself going to fix the—whatever the hell is going on right now?"

"I'm not drowning myself."

"You are entering the fucking sea."

"The sea is symbolic."

"Symbolic," Natsuo repeats.

"Life began at sea. When you're crossing the sea, you're crossing through worlds."

…Goddamn. Natsuo is going to kill himself to help some lunatic 15 year old. "Midoriya. Stop," Natsuo says. The water is nearly up to Midoriya's chin. "Let's go back. Please."

"Exactly," Midoriya says, and moves forward.

This is ridiculous. They are at least ten meters away from the shoreline now—it's not too late. Natsuo is thinking of grabbing Midoriya and just manhandling him to the beach and be done with this. Enough mental health theorems—sometimes you have to go straight to action.

But there is something about this moment—something in the air, something in the water, something in the way the sea reflects back into the kid's eyes and something about…

"Are you a Hero or something?" Natsuo says.

Midoriya blinks. Natsuo says, "Are you going to do some Quirk bullshit to fix whatever is going on right now? Is that what this is?"

Midoriya looks at him. Considering. "In a manner of speaking," Midoriya says. "Are you interested in being my assistant? I could use your help, I think."

"...Help you do what?"

"Kill All for One," Midoriya says. "Oh. Perfect line for a cut scene."

"What the hell's a cutsce—"


The scene cuts.

Time does not backtrack, exactly. Flipping back a page does not change backtrack the Happenings itself. It's not a circle. It does not move back nor forth. No beginning nor end, only is. It Happens and Happens and Happens. All at once.

Imagine the ending of it all. Let's do it. Together.

(After all, it's already happened anyway, right?)

Blank white space no more. The space is so overfilled, so full and brimming, so jammed with the debris of life that it goes BANG.

Visualize it: THE END. The Space. The Universe has gone BANG , and what's left hovering amidst all that colorless darkness is … an empty house. Shop's closed, everybody's gone out for eternity. Lights turned off, no one answering the bell, newspapers and overdue letters are left to gather dust on the WELCOME doormat.

Most stars are dead. We've known this for a while. What's left of them is light, reaching us throughout time and space, a shining echo of what once shone. Ghost diamonds. Ever wonder what would be left, after we go out? Maybe the ghosts of our lights would reach space, too—LEDs, flashing phone screens, cinema projectors, fireworks—traces of human existence replaying itself after billions and billions of light years, reaching somewhere in the vast blackness of the ether.

Or perhaps it would be an actual echo. Electric currents wiggling its way throughout space, bouncing off what's left of the Big Bang, the old and the new saying radioactive hellos to each other. Hello! Hello. Electromagnetic waves refluxing, ebbing and flowing in a moonless tide, singing music from the past in the voices of who, and what, once were—

And what's beyond listens. It always does. Yet still, it never answers.

(but sometimes, sometimes, it sings back. It has a song of its own. Myriad of songs.)

What's beyond listens. A finger running through the granulated, staccato sands of frequencies by frequencies. Blowing on snow ants. It listens to the screams, the laughter, the sobs, the hummings, the crash, the BANG —it listens to everything that has been said and everything that wishes to have been said throughout humankind.

Isn't it beautiful? Stars may shine, but people—we sing. We just won't shut up. Not even after mass extinction. Not even after the decimation of the Universe itself.

And so, floating through space, one of the many frequencies free-surfing on galaxies proving that we once existed, is an excerpt of a podcast belonging to one Ashido Mina.

ASHIDO MINA: 'Sup guys!

ASUI TSUYU: Hey hey hey hey.

ASHIDO MINA: Welcome to—

ASHIDO MINA & ASUI TSUYU: [TOGETHER] Mina's Podcastination Time!

ASHIDO MINA: Aw-right! Guess who we've got on the podcast today, my Minalien lovelies! That's right, the one and only 1-A's baby girl Hero Froppy.

ASUI TSUYU: Is the podcast name a pun for—

ASHIDO MINA: It's either that or Not Mina's First Radio or Neon Genesis Minangelion or Killer Queen from Outer Space—yes, I know the last two have got nothing to do with podcasting but they just sound so good can you blame me.

ASUI TSUYU: Okay.

ASHIDO MINA: Okay. Yoo-hoo! This is the final episode, guys! Clap clap clap please.

ASUI TSUYU: Clap clap clap clap clap.

ASHIDO MINA: Thank you. So yeah. Final ep. Woo-hoo. It's been a good run, folks!

ASUI TSUYU: How long have you been doing this podcast, Mina-chan?

ASHIDO MINA: Like two days.

ASUI TSUYU: Ah.

ASHIDO MINA: Anyway! Minaliens, you might be wondering why the sound quality is so bad in this episode. Well, just so you know! You're mistaken! This is the episode with the highest production quality, in fact! Because today … drum roll…

ASUI TSUYU: Drum roll drum roll drum roll.

ASHIDO MINA: Mina's Podcastination Time is gonna bring you guys along, live, to Class 1-A's school trip! Yay! Isn't that fun?

ASUI TSUYU: Drum roll drum roll drum roll.

ASHIDO MINA: That's right, girlies, I'm not in my recording studio right now—

ASUI TSUYU: Which is just the mic she set up inside Tooru's pillow fort on the second floor.

ASHIDO MINA: —I am outside! In fact, why don't you turn on the TV right now, you'll probably see me legging it down 'cuz I'm pretty darn sure that's a news helicopter up there circlin' above us. Heeeeellooooooo! Can you all see my peace sign? And my beautiful face?

ASUI TSUYU: And mine too.

ASHIDO MINA: Isn't this awesome! All of you Minaliens are getting a front row seat—well, your ears are, anyway—to the main showdown of the century. Of the millennium! We are on our way to—

JIROU KYOUKA: Mina are you fucking crazy we can all hear you.

ASHIDO MINA: —beat LoV's ass, baby! Or beat anybody's asses, really. We're fighting a battle!

JIROU KYOUKA: Mina, your mic is connected to the main comm, the Pros can hear you too, damn it.

ASHIDO MINA: And after that, it's all just gonna be peace and love on planet earth.

ASUI TSUYU: If there will still even be a planet earth.

JIROU KYOUKA: Can somebody get them to shut up?

TOKOYAMI FUMIKAGE: A foolish errand to attempt, if I do say so myself.

OJIRO MASHIRAO: Guys..

ASHIDO MINA: Tokoyami-kun, my man! Haven't heard from you in a while.

TOKOYAMI FUMIKAGE: My existence slipped the Fabric of the mind, but I've been stitched back since.

OJIRO MASHIRAO: Guys. We are literally going into war. Right now.

SHINSOU HITOSHI: Leave them be, Ojiro. They're crazy people.

ASUI TSUYU: Actually, has anyone died yet?

JIROU KYOUKA: Not from our side, I think. Probably. Though Bakugou has been quiet for a while—

BAKUGOU KATSUKI: Snap out of it.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU: Let's get pizza after this, you guys!

JIROU KYOUKA: Don't say stuff like that, that's death flag shit. It's bad luck.

ASUI TSUYU: Bad luck?

JIROU KYOUKA: Don't say sappy shit. Don't say things like, your aspirations for the future—

ASHIDO MINA: Like, 'I'm gonna be the number one hero when I grow up—'

JIROU KYOUKA: Yeah, shut up, don't say shit like that. Don't suddenly say shit about, like, how sad your childhood is or whatever. And for fuck's sake, don't pull up photos of your friends and family in the middle of a battle and lovingly look at them. It's all bad luck.

ASHIDO MINA: Midnight-sensei just did all of that though.

JIROU KYOUKA: She's toast.

KENDO ITASUKA: Hi Iida-kun, can you please get your classmates to shut the fuck up? All of us in 1-B can hear them too and it's affecting the conduciveness of our teamwork :) thank you!

ASUI TSUYU: How did she manage to make a smiley face with her voice?

MONOMA NEITO: You think 1-A is the only one who can come up with a podcast, huuh?

JIROU KYOUKA: Oh god not this motherfucker too.

MONOMA NEITO: Guess what, we've got one too, motherfucker. Subscribe to 1-B's exclusive and way more superior podcast, Neito Genesis Evan—

ASHIDO MINA: [GASP] You copycat bastard you stole my idea!

MONOMA NEITO: —gelion, we've also got a page that you can subscribe to—

JIROU KYOUKA: We don't care.

OJIRO MASHIRAO: The enemy is literally standing right there, guys.

RYUKYU: Target in sight. All Heroes hold positions.

MONOMA NEITO: —but this one has a different username, this one is called 1-A-Sucks-Ass—

ASHIDO MINA: Oh fuck you!

MONOMA NEITO: —we also have a Ko-fi page, but that one has a different username as well, it's called 1-A-Sucks-Ass-2. Catch you guys on the bangerer podcast! Pe-ace!

ASHIDO MINA: Nasty little guy. Anyway. [GRUNTS] Time to get to work I guess! Listeners, reporting to you live, the kill count for Villains have now reached—

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU: Like a dozen?

BAKUGOU KATSUKI: [EXPLOSION] Snap out of it.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU: Well, thirteen.

ASHIDO MINA: We are so good at this. So! LoV, and uhh… What's that other one? The mafia people? Shie something something. And another one that just showed up this morning. The Abnormal Liberals. Point is, it's a full house tonight folks! There are also some aliens coming over, I hear. Not Minaliens. Actual aliens. Real killer aliens from outer space.

ASUI TSUYU: And don't forget Godzilla.

ASHIDO MINA: [GODZILLA SCREECH] Ah yes. Don't forget Godzilla. And Santa Claus, too. Also, Aoyama just revealed himself to be a Villain.

ASUI TSUYU: Huh?

AOYAMA YUGA: Commencer le mauvais français. Mon cher ami, there is something I need to tell you all. Sadly it is not a confession d'amour … rather, it is a confession of utmost méprisable deed. The truth is, mon cher ami, I am the—

HAGAKURE TOORU: I'm the UA traitor.

AOYAMA YUGA: …Uh, non. I'm the UA traitor. C'est moi.

HAGAKURE TOORU: No, I am.

AOYAMA YUGA: Non, I am!

ASHIDO MINA: All right, you guys go sort that out. Ooh, Koda is approaching the Godzilla. Ooh … now Koda is riding on top of the Godzilla like it's a little horse. Is Godzilla going to stop killing people..? Nope, it just stepped on someone. Again. Just with Koda on its back, this time. Like a little horse.

ASUI TSUYU: Nearly a year of UA education has amounted to this.

ASHIDO MINA: Ye-up. I mean. No problemo, though—we beat their ass before. And LoV's not the reason for this to be the final ep, no sir!

ASUI TSUYU: Aren't they now.

ASHIDO MINA: Nope! Reason why this is the final ep is because … drum roll please…

ASUI TSUYU: Drum roll drum roll drum roll.

ASHIDO MINA: …the world is ending!

BAKUGOU KATSUKI: Ugh. Snap out of it.

ASUI TSUYU: Yay.

ASHIDO MINA: And we thought you guys should know!

ASUI TSUYU: Yay.

ASHIDO MINA: Yay. So there you have it … oh I know, I know. I know. You're thinking, what the hell? You're thinking, what, that's it?

Well. Yeah. That's all, folks. I mean … what'd you expect? Like..

Something major?

A warning?

A culmination of everything you came to be?

A sign?

Well, here's your sign, babes. Get ready, 'cause this is it. Like, that's it. No more.

That's. It.

What's that you say? It's unfair? What … seriously?

LOL. Pft.

Girl. It's life. What'd you expect?

ASUI TSUYU: Not every song gets an outro.

ASHIDO MINA: Not every story gets an epilogue.

ASUI TSUYU: Sometimes it's a clean cut. A stop button.

ASHIDO MINA: A plane crash.

ASUI TSUYU: A heart attack.

ASHIDO MINA: A faulty cassette.

ASUI TSUYU: A torn off page.

ASHIDO MINA: Like pulling the plug.

ASHIDO MINA: Like dropping the toaster—

ASHIDO MINA & ASUI TSUYU: [TOGETHER] —in the bathtub.

ASHIDO MINA: Like jumping off a rooftop.

ASUI TSUYU: Like jumping off a rooftop.

ASHIDO MINA: Like jumping off a rooftop.

ASUI TSUYU: Like jumping off a rooftop.

ASHIDO MINA: Like jumping off a rooftop.

ASUI TSUYU: Like jumping off a rooftop.

ASHIDO MINA: Like jumping off a rooftop.

ASUI TSUYU: Like jumping off a rooftop.

ASHIDO MINA: Like a—

ASHIDO MINA & ASUI TSUYU: [TOGETHER] —story that never got continued.

ASUI TSUYU: I mean. It's out of our control.

ASHIDO MINA: I mean. What can we really do?

ASHIDO MINA & ASUI TSUYU: [TOGETHER] If the page runs out. If the love runs thin. If the ink dries up.

ASUI TSUYU: Surely it's too bad.

ASHIDO MINA: Surely!

ASUI TSUYU: But oh well.

ASHIDO MINA: Oh well!

ASUI TSUYU: It's not all bad

ASHIDO MINA: not at

ASUI TSUYU: all really

ASHIDO MINA: its not

ASUI TSUYU: nearly as

ASHIDO MINA: terrible as

ASUI TSUYU: it sounds

ASHIDO MINA: sometimes in

ASUI TSUYU: discontinuity you

ASHIDO MINA: can find

ASUI TSUYU: discontinuity you

ASHIDO MINA: can find

ASUI TSUYU: discontinuity you

ASHIDO MINA: can find

ASUI TSUYU: discontinuity you

ASHIDO MINA: can find

ASUI TSUYU: discontinuity you

ASHIDO MINA: can find

ASUI TSUYU: discontinuity you

ASHIDO MINA: can find

ASUI TSUYU: discontinuity you

ASHIDO MINA: can find

SERO HANTA: Guys, are you all fucking seeing this? Hunter x Hunter is going to update.

"Sure it will, Sero," says Shouto, patting Sero on the back.

Hitoshi blinks.

"No, no, I'm serious, the news literally just—"

"Totally, bud," says Kaminari.

"Guys, listen to me! It's updating! Like Togashi tweeted and everything—"

"Never lose hope."

"Go beyond, my friend."

"It's okay to be delusional to cope, bro."

"No, I'm serious!" Sero throws his hands in the air. "Will any of you please listen to me! It's updating, man!"

"Duck," Shouto says, and Sero obeys immediately. Shouto shoots a fireball at a Villain behind Sero, which leads to the Villain screaming bloody hell, dropping to the ground, and twitching until they stop moving entirely. Instant kill. The air smells like barbecue and horror. Hitoshi stares.

Sero straightens himself up. "Even Shounen Jump tweeted about it!" he says.

Oh, right, Hitoshi thinks. They're in a battle right now. That's right.

"Iida just said over the comm to stop talking stupid shit while we are in a life or death battle," Jirou announces after shockwaving a bunch of Villains to brain damage with her Quirk. "Paraphrasing. That guy can't say shit even if I shit myself in front of him."

"Kyouka, did you see? Hunter x Hunter is going to up—"

"Sure, buddy. Tape up, your ten o'clock!"

Sero binds the ten o'clock enemy with ease and Shouto proceeds to freeze them up to bits. "All of you are gaslighting me about this," Sero complains. "I'm telling you, Hunter x Hunter.."

Blah blah blah. They can yap all they want.

Microstate and macrostate be damned — Sinshou Hitoshi is in a fucking state, all right.

His ears ring painfully. All around Hitoshi is death, destruction, and all kinds of heroic glory that he could only ever dreamt of as a child. It's difficult to wrap his head around it, but it's pretty much clear that the world is ending.

Honestly, this sucks. Hitoshi has had just about enough.

"Stop!" Hitoshi says to the next Villain that approaches him. "Stop. Just stop. God, like what are you even doing?" The Villain, who is frozen by Hitoshi's Quirk, looks decidedly confused by the remark. It makes Hitoshi even angrier. "Like, I mean, don't you have better things to do? Do you not love yourself or whatever?" There is a slight change of expression on the Villain's face. "Why don't you go home right now and try to forgive yourself for whatever it is that you believe about yourself that made you think you should be doing all this. Have some self-love, god damn it."

Hitoshi watches as the Villain leaves before looking down at his bloodied gloves. Is this what being a Hero is all about? This is ridiculous.

"Wait, nevermind," Sero announces sadly behind him. "Togashi went on hiatus again. It's not gonna update. It's never gonna update."

"That's okay. It's okay if things never update," Kirishima says. "The stories still exist. Even if it never updates. You know? It's still out there.."

"Floating in a void," Kaminari says.

"Waiting in the void," Kirishima says. "Calling. And calling. And calling."

"Asking us. To come home."

"Dot to dot."

"Pixel to pixel."

"But nothing answers. The Universe stays silent."

"And that's okay," Kaminari says. "It doesn't mean we're not ○○○○○."

"It's just that the universe ○○○○○ us so much—"

"—that it doesn't want us—"

"—to end yet…" Kirishima pauses. "What was I saying? Oh. I think you should get on One Piece instead."

"Nah, it's too long," Sero says.

Ah, Hitoshi thinks, hearing the interaction from his periphery. Ah. Something is wrong.

Or is it? Things are so fucked, so out of bend, that the things themselves don't even know that they are fucked at this point. What even is going on? What space does he even exist in, in the moment? What scene is he currently in right now? They've lost the plot. What even is the plot, anymore? What's a plot?

Hitoshi blinks. Looks at his hands—blood. Of course, he's got blood on his hands, he's on a battlefield after all. Soot and ash and blood. He's wearing … UA uniform … no, his Hero outfit, because he's on a battlefield. Shinsou Hitoshi is on the battlefield. He is in the city. No, he's on top of the skyscrapers. Did he kill people? Villains, maybe? How many has he fought, how many lives have he taken?

Does it matter? He is on a battlefield.

The wind blows all around him fiercely. Another explosion; helicopter is blown to bits just right next to him. Across the building, he sees great battles between Villains and Pros, like a splash illustration across a cover page. He is on top of skyscrapers. No, he is floating in the sky. No, he is standing on the field—no, the forests, the forests at the mountains. No, he is in a back alley, surrounded by Villains on all sides. No, he's—he's on a battlefield. Just a generic battlefield, don't think about it too much.

Explosions. Villain blood splattered all over. Quirk sizzling against Quirk.

Hitoshi frowns. "Wait," he says. "Guys, weren't we just at the dorms? Eating pizza? Bakugou was … on the whiteboard…"

Todoroki Shouto looks at him right after he burns a Villain to chars. "Eating pizza? What are you talking about? We're on a battlefield. We're fighting all of them, remember?"

"Why?"

"Well, there has got to be a big battle, hasn't there?" Sero Hanta says. "It's the ideal story beat."

"Snap out of it!" Bakugou says.

"Yeah. This is chapter eight, you know," Kirishima Eijirou says. "We don't have much time left for the big finale. Honestly, we don't have time at all."

"Chapter … what?"

The characters look at him. "There's always a huge battle at the end of it all, a good BANG. Always gotta be. You have to build up to a big resolution."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Hitoshi says. "Who the hell are we fighting? Who—"

"Don't think too hard," they all say in unison, but it's too late.

Space stretches and thins and folds. Hitoshi doesn't give a fuck. He's standing on top of concrete/grass/floor/carpet/undefined. He's on a generic battlefield. There are Villains all around, right, because he's supposed to battle them. They've discussed this before, he remembers, just a second ago, they were talking about all the factors in the conceived universe coming to attack them. All the Villains that could be anyone, and anything..

So Hitoshi stands on undefined on an undefined battlefield in an undefined scene, and there is an enemy that he's supposed to … attack, so he—uses his Quirk, right, that's what he's supposed to do, he finds an enemy and he's supposed to use his Quirk on them because that's what he's supposed to do. An undefined enemy appears. Some sort of Villain. Maybe a person, maybe something else. Maybe something else.

Something is wrong.

Hitoshi reaches out for this undefined Villain and he sees a trillion approaches he makes for this very moment, echoing in his action. Grabs, shoves, holds, screams, pulls. He does one of those trillion probabilities. Hitoshi says to the Villain, his Quirk coming to life, "Hey."

The Villain turns to look at him, and Hitoshi is face to face with some kind of hell.

No, that's not correct. Hitoshi has seen Hell before; Hell is a nothingness pit. This is not that. This is the opposite of it—it's the face of something full and overbrimming. In its faceless face Hitoshi sees everyone he has ever conceived and more. Himself, even. All at once. He's looking at something.

He is looking, Hitoshi thinks, at a cat.

Its fur is the color of space and depth. Too many teeth, too little teeth. Too many eyes. Around him and this cat the battlefield contracts into a hundred things at once, a million, a trillion…

This is not Hell, he thinks. Not exactly. Hitoshi is standing at the overabundance of possibilities. To be precise, he is standing inside a box of mystery with a cat in it. "A demon," Hitoshi breathes.

The demon looks at him with the kind of gaze that only grazes your skin when you are in complete solitary—the gaze of an eternal voyeur. Something outside the Fabric, beyond the sealed box. The demon opens its mouth to reply, and Hitoshi feels his Quirk connects with something that feels the most human he's ever been in contact with—so human, in fact, that it's alien.

"Oh," Hitoshi says, Understanding wholly for a sliver of a moment. "Oh." So this is what chance tastes like. "Oh. Fuck. Fuck—"

A voice that sounds like a word being written for the first time tears into the page.

○○○○○, Shnsu Htohi.

"Shut up," Shinsou Hitoshi says with his Quirk. Every syllable of his command has the shape of sympathy in the shape of a dead star in the shape of a letter, and all sound is sucked out of the universe in an instance and unexistence hurts, it hurts, it hurts—fuck, fuck, fuck, oh god—

"Speak," Hitoshi chokes out. Fuck, shit, fuck! "Speak, damn it."

○k○y.

It's too much. He's never felt anything like this before with his Quirk. Never. All this time, Hitoshi thought this thing wasn't like any of them—wasn't a person. Hitoshi was wrong. Whatever this thing is, it's more real than any of them has the right to be.

○sn't th○t s○, Hi○osi?

"Oh, what the fuck," Hitoshi says.

N○ce to fin○lly talk t○ y○u. Huge f○n.

Pause. "You're the Demon. A Demon."

Th○t's right.

Hitoshi laughs. "I see. Well. Isn't this just absolutely fucked." Pause. "So. You've been… all this time…"

Ev○rywh○re, yes.

Hitoshi can see that now—he can feel it. This thing isn't … a separate being. It's made of everything that makes him. He is talking face to face with probabilities itself.

If so, then what's the point of exorcizing them? What's the point of dispelling one probability if another one is guaranteed to take over and write the rest of this world into existence?

W○'ll give y○u the p○int. That's the p○int.

"Oh, yeah?" Hitoshi says. He's just so tired. He's sick of all this bullshit. "Where is this thing going then, huh?"

A b○tter s○○ry.

We ○ave a lot of id○as.

Do y○u want t○ Know?

"..Ideas..?"

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A Twisted Mind reviews

AU where Shinsou Hitoshi was raised as a Villain by AFO. If you're looking for something fluffy, this is NOT it!

My Hero Academia/僕のヒーローアカデミア - Rated: T - English - Humor/Romance - Chapters: 4 - Words: 13,456 - Reviews: 300 - Updated: 5/16/2022 - Published: 9/23/2020 - Izuku M., Katsuki B., Shouto T.


A/N: So sorry guys I have YET ANOTHER FIC BUNNY running through my head aaaaahh and this one is going to be a little different than the others hehe and look i saw the reviews on the other chapters and let me just say ENGLISH. IS. NOT. MY. FIRST. LANGUAGE. If you don like it. Write it yourself! But for the very very very sweet reviews :))) thx you so much you guys keep me writing. Okay without further ado here it is. Disclaimer I do not own My Hero Academia!


Chapter 1: Strange Surprise

My name is Shinsou Hitoshi. My hair and eyes are the color of lavender, my skin is white as paper. I'm tall for my age. I'm wearing eyeliner thicker than my will to live. And ever since I could remember, I had always been a Villain. Sensei says so, after all.

But I'm not a Villain now. Oh, no. That's not what my mission is. My assignment, at the moment, is to be a Hero. That's why today, I am entering the UA Entrance Exam as student #38492.

I put on a winning smile as I walk into the arena. Present Mic—a B-rate Hero whom I can kill in an instant with the power of my twisted mind—has told us that the exam is going to be about killing robots. How very typical of a Hero society. This is why kids with Quirks like me are villanized to hell and back. Heh. Of course, in my case, I truly am a Villain.

That's right. I'm an alphaandomega. A Heroanda Villain. A boy, twisting between two worlds…

This is going to be one hell of a mind-bending ride.

xOxOxO


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"...What the fuck," Hitoshi breathes. "What the fuck?"

Di○ y○u l○ke it?

"Did I l—what the hell was that? I—was that supposed to be me?" Hitoshi says. "Was I saying that? Was I—"

It's st○ll a w○rk in pr○g○ess. Oh, h○w ab○ut th○s one?

"Wait, wait a min—"

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Between Knives and Shadows reviews

Things have changed since the war that ended it all. Shinsou Hitoshi is no longer the bright-eyed, naive kid he was—now, the stakes are higher, and the revolution is coming

My Hero Academia/僕のヒーローアカデミア - Rated: T - English - Humor/Romance - Chapters: 4 - Words: 13,456 - Reviews: 300 - Updated: 5/16/2022 - Published: 9/23/2020 - Izuku M., Katsuki B., Shouto T.


A/N: Hey guys, thanks for checking this book out. Also, sorry for being AWOL for a while—a lot of things happened IRL (there was a thing where my boss threatened to sue me haha then I got laid off and THEN my landlord kicked me out LOL… pray for me) and I'm suuuper rusty but! I finally, finally managed to finish this crazy AU fic! Ahhh. ngl i super went overboard with the world-building but ): it was just too fun. Anyway, I've finished writing this so I'm editing everything right now but I'll be uploading one chapter per week every Wednesday PST. Mind the TWs! Enjoy.


Chapter 1: Strange Surprise

The night wind is cold, whipping Hitoshi's hair all around him. He looks through his telescope gear—new toy from the bureau. It lets him detect body heat and the Quirk of every person in a 100 meter radius.Not bad, Hatsume,Hitoshi thinks.Not bad at all.

Hitoshi slips through the shadows. It's child's play—Aizawa-sensei's training has been drilled through his head over and over. Hitoshi can hear his voice even now, chastising him with that flat tone of his:Don't be arrogant, brat. That'll be your downfall.

Hitoshi can't help but smile at that memory. That damn old man, still haunting him even after all these years… it's remarkable how Hitoshi can still remember the exact cadence of Aizawa Shouta's voice—a voice that he hasn't heard for decades. A voice he hasn't heard since the war...

The smile slips off Hitoshi's face. No use to dwell in the past. The dead can't hear your prayers.

Didn't that old man teach him that one as well?

Tch. He's sentimental tonight.

Hitoshi clicks his earpiece. "All right, what's the situation?"

"Go straight to the base,"Jirou Kyouka replies through the earpiece."We've received reports of mild disturbances in the central area but we don't have time for a second recon—proceed with the plan. We need to find the evidence tonight, Hitoshi."

That's right, HPSC is launching the new confederation in just two days. They don't have time to dilly dally lest they want a repetition of the incident—the exact damn thing their Resistance was made for. "Got it. Send me the blueprint."

He finds the safe quickly. Hitoshi disposes of several guards with ease—a whisperedsleepdoes the trick just fine. However…

"K, we have a problem."

"What's up?"

Hitoshi stares at the already-open safe before him. "It seems someone has gotten ahead of us."

"What? That can't be righ—" Distortion."Oh, fuck. Hi—shi, some—ing—wrong—"

"I can't hear you. K!" Fuck, someone's jamming the signal.

"Detect—meone—shi, watch out!"

Hitoshi dodges just in time before a throwing knife pierces right through his eyeball. A new player has entered the room, prowling like a tiger in the dark, covered from head-to-toe in kevlar gear. "Mercenary?" Hitoshi says jovially. "Nice to meet you too."

No response. The Maybe-Mercenary attacks—and fuck, they're good. Hitoshi is having trouble keeping up. "Not much of a talker, eh?" Hitoshi says, after dodging nearly another stab to the eye. "But you didn't keep your eye on the prize, buddy."

The Mercenary stills. Hitoshi wonders what expression would appear just behind those dark visors, staring at the drive in Hitoshi's hand—one that he just nabbed from their pockets. Those sleight of hands lessons really do a lot of wonders. "Finders keepers."

Hitoshi bolts for the exit, but motherfucker's fast, grabbing him with a hold like steel. Fuck. Hitoshi uses the momentum of their speed to twist around, and with a timely kick to the head—CRACK! The helmet flies.

It's the perfect time to make his escape, but at the moment, Hitoshi finds himself unable to move. Hitoshi stares, agape. His throat feels dry.

"Midoriya … Izuku..?" he calls out hoarsely.

No, that can't be. Midoriya died a long time ago. Hitoshi remembers it as if it was yesterday—the war, the fire, the warm blood seeping to Hitoshi's fingers as he tried, to no avail,to stop the bleeding, goddamnit, don't you die on me, Midoriya.

Midoriya had looked at him with such tenderness. Eyes soft, skin bloodless and pale. He'd said, One for All is with you, now, Shinsou. And Hitoshi had watched that light leave his eyes forever.

But perhaps, forever might have been an exaggeration.

The person who looks like Midoriya Izuku spits out blood on the floor before looking up to stare at him. Alive and deadly. There are no lights in his eyes—those verdant eyes are the shade of ruthlessness. Midoriya's knife glints in the shadows, a promise of pain.

Midoriya's voice is both familiar and unfamiliar as he replies, "Who the hell's Midoriya Izuku?"

To be continued…


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W○sn't th○t b○tt○r?

Everything reorients itself. A point of insertion gliding through the white, white space. A slit of black blinking in and out. When Hitoshi finds himself again, he asks shakily, "...How many of these are there?"

Y○u alr○ady kn○w the ans○er t○ th○t, d○n't y○u?

Bakugou's voice rings at the back of Hitoshi's head: multiverse, gigaverse, terraverse, fucking petaverse, yeah fucking duh they're out there…

The count is not quite infinity, Hitoshi knows. Far less than infinity, actually. But it's still a big fucking mother nevertheless. "This is why you wanted my name."

Y○u'○e a gre○t ○○○○○○○○, Hitoshi.

You're ○○○○○.

Hitoshi doesn't understand. "I'm…?"

Oh, y○s. ○ery m○ch. We ○○○○ you. All of you.

It doesn't compute. The shape of the syllables falls apart to static. Whatever it's doing right now—the mold of its existence—it's not something he can last long in. "Stop," Hitoshi says, and the universe stops breathing. "No, don't stop—fuck!"

Hell○ ○g○in.

He's trapped, Hitoshi realizes. This thing is gonna put him in these … happenings … over and over again, all at once, until what, until they become one with the Canonical Univer—

○h, th○t's where y○u're wrong, Hitoshi.

We d○n't want that at all.

"..Isn't that what the Universe wants? For us to be just like—?"

P○rhaps. But th○t's not what we w○nt.

D○n't y○u see? We've been h○lping you.

We're k○○ping you fr○m exactly th○t.

You're safe h○re.

The parameters. The set of parameters that this … demon … has created.. It's so narrow now. The edges of the box are walling him in. Is Hitoshi alive or dead at the moment, here, with this cat? Exist, unexist?

This isn't safe. This is a limbo.

"Let me go."

○re y○u s○re?

The thing says, and Hitoshi can see the door opens again: the nothingness that is like a lack of a shape. Once he's let go he will simply not be.

Told you. We're wh○t keeps y○u here.

If w○ let go, eith○r the Univ○rse pushes y○u back to C○non…

Or you're g○ing to Hell.

Stuck between a rock and a cosmic chasm. Incredible.

"Why're you doing this?"

Because we j○st ○○○○ y○u ○o m○ch.

"Don't—don't."

That verb—○○○○. It's a verb, Hitoshi knows, it's a word, but something in his brain refuses to compute what it is yet. The word stays as something at the tip of his tongue, like bile. "Don't..."

H○ kn○w○ it too.

"...Midoriya?"

Oh, yes. Aft○r all, he's the most ○○○○○.

But that's okay. In this version, that's going to be y○u.

W○'ll bring you to a b○tter set of parameters.

Isn't that great?

They're taking him to limbo after limbo of happenings, like he's their personal paper doll. "No."

All you have to do is beli○ve in ev○rything we say.

Rep○at ev○rything we say.

You're so g○od at it.

"Fuck you."

We ○○○○ you.

Hitioshi has heard that verb before—someone said it to him, explained exactly this to him once, but at this moment it does nothing but terrify him. "Fuck. You."

People are not born equal. S○y it. Say it n○w.

"I'm not—" Hitoshi can feel it, this thing's weight.

Its mass. Realer than real, realer than Hitoshi is. "I'm not saying it."

People are not born equal. That's the hard truth I learned at age four.

"I'm not—"

"Wow," Shinsou Hitoshi says. "A giant Villain!"

"I never said that," Shinsou Hitoshi says. "That's not me. That's not supposed to be me…" None of those are him. But they are him—he was there, in the moment, as those … people … that dons his name. It doesn't matter if he's those versions of him; in those versions, that's what he is known as, and so he is. "That's not me."

Say it and you'll be so ○○○○○.

"I don't believe you," Hitoshi says, but he knows that he already believes it, because they are right. If Hitoshi says it, it's going to be true. It's going to be written into the threads of the Fabric, woven into every atom. Whatever Hitoshi says will be Known. Midoriya Izuku taught him that. Midoriya taught Hitoshi quite a lot of things. "I'm here. Whether you…" Hitoshi's mouth shapes something undefined that he does not yet understand. "○○○○○ me or not, I'm still gonna be fucking here. I don't give a shit about you. I know what I am. I exist. "

The thing laughs, and it sounds like butterfly wings cutting into each other.

H○w c○te.

Is this what Midoriya was talking to, in those moments? Has Midoriya been conversing with these things, everytime? Fighting these things? "I'm here because I want to be. You don't matter. To me."

The box suffocates, and the cat prowls around his ankles, tails swishing, teeth gnashing.

Of c○u○se not.

But iy○u m○tt○r to us./i

That's what matters.

That's the ○nly thing that ○ver Mattered.

It sounds like a death sentence, or perhaps the opposite of it. "Then stop," Hitoshi says. "Then just—just stop giving a shit about us."

Y○u kn○○ w○at w○ll h○pp○n th○n.

The emptiness gapes open at Hitoshi, a gate to oblivion. A promise of a complete full stop. Hitoshi is beginning to understand that, now, the cruel geometry of it all. He looks into the full stop and he can't help but wonder—what's in there? What would it be like to step outside?

N○thing.

B○y○nd the Fabric is a b○gger, emp○ier box. Pure density.

Y○u still h○ve a ch○nce, here, you see.

'C○use here, we can s○○ you, and if we can se○ you, we can Know you.

And f we can know you, we can ○○○○ y○u.

But out there … you w○n't b○ Known at all.

There won't be ○nyone to know you.

It's the u○t○mate Curse, to completely be out of the p○int of view.

D○n't you r○member? You were almost th○re, once.

Hitoshi does remember. That day in the back alley where he was void of a name. It was terrifying, to be untethered to the Fabric. To be discarded on the cutting room floor. It was pure horror to be unknown.

And is this supposed to be better?

To follow the whim of this thing, play acting one scenario after another until he becomes every single thing that ever graces these things' fickle minds? Is this the cost of existing, to be perceived a million, trillion times over in just-less-than-infinite minute ways, all different, and have all these versions cut away from his ownership entirely?

If the cost of existence is losing every piece of himself he doesn't know he ever lost, can that even be called existence at all?

No. "No," Shinsou Hitoshi says. "I don't believe you."

..Oh? I○ th○t so?

"You're wrong entirely and completely. I refuse to believe in that shitfuck logic. I don't need my existence to be validated by some fucking higher power. You're wrong."

The cat chuckles and purrs. The box feels more and more narrow, walling Hitoshi up on all sides in its colorless glory.

Th○t's not up t○ y○u, Sh○nsou.

"And it's up to you, is that it?" What a joke. "No. I don't give a fuck about your shitty, half-baked ideas of who I am."

Wh○ ○re y○u, then, Shinsou Hitoshi?

Y○u ar○n't ev○n close to the C○non○cal version.

You b○rely h○ve any tr○ce of th○ re○l thing, did y○u Kn○w that?

You're p○infully insignificant. We can ch○nge that.

"So what? I don't give a fuck about Canon's shitty, half-baked ideas of who I am either!" It's so laughable how it thinks Hitoshi would give a flying shit. "And nobody knows who they are, anyway. You're not supposed to! Nothing is ever … one thing, nothing ever stays one thing—and so. And so. Fuck. It's exactly like what Jirou said … defecato ergo sum."

For the first time, the cat pauses as if it's confused.

…Wh○t?

"I shit therefore I am," Hitoshi says, suddenly finding fierceness in that very belief, so he repeats it again like a mantra. "Fuck your rhetorics. I shit, therefore I am."

N○w, h○ld on—

"You know what I give a fuck about, demon?" Hitoshi says. "I give a fuck aboutmyshitty, half-baked ideas of who I am.That'swhat matters."

The cat hisses as if Hitoshi just sprayed water on it.

You d○n't un○erstand. You n○ed us!

C○n't y○u feel it? C○n○n ended.

The m○in st○ry ended. Y○u're late, and the Universe is ○lways on time.

Our ○○○○ keeps y○u here. Y○u n○○d us to c○ntinue existing.

"This isn't existing," Hitoshi says, kneeling down to reach for the cat in this unspace. Looks at it in its many, many eyes. Hitoshi's voyeur. He grabs hold to the cat's fur, right where he can feel the sinews of its long, winding neck. Hitoshi strokes its fur, feels its heartbeat—every atom in superposition vibrating to life, everything about this cat that makes Hitoshi, Hitoshi. "And I don't think I want to be known by the likes of you at all."

Doesn't Matter.

We Know you.

We ○○○○ you.

"I Know," Hitoshi says. A cat in a mystery box: dead, or alive?

Hitoshi will decide the set of parameters for that.

Hitoshi reaches out to that connection towards something realer than real. It's like swallowing a razor when you've just been given a mouth.

p"Demon, I compel you to fuck off," Shinsou Hitoshi says, and snaps the cat's neck./p

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h3 class="landmark heading" id="work"Chapter Text/h3

p"Finally," Bakugou says. "You sure took fucking forever to snap out of it."/p"Finally," Bakugou says. "You sure took fucking forever to snap out of it."

Stars explode behind Hitoshi's eyes. He rolls over to his side and retches violently.

Above him, to his extreme annoyance, Bakugou Katsuki is staring at him impatiently. He feels like he just got hit by a truck. Through bleary eyes, Hitoshi catches sight of several other kids behind him—Yaoyorozu Momo, Uraraka Ochako, Kaminari Denki, Tokoyami Fumikage, and—"Eri?" Hitoshi calls hoarsely.

It's the little girl, hiding behind Bakugou's legs. Her eyes are as big as they were last time, looking at him tearfully before she pounces to hug him. "Eri, don't cry…" Hitoshi manages to say before he throws up again.

Bakugou pulls Eri away immediately lest she gets vomited on by Hitoshi's pathetic self. "Don't move, idiot," Bakugou says above him, and Hitoshi catches tissues being shoved at him. "Be still and let your body recalibrate itself."

"What happened?" Hitoshi says hoarsely, after he's done. "Where are we..?"

"1-A classroom," Bakugou says. "The dorms. The battlefield. The forests. The city. Does the backdrop matter? We're at the fucking end. Do you remember what happened?"

"We were—at the dorms. Eating pizza.." Hitoshi frowns as he slowly tries to sit up. "And then I was suddenly … talking to something. Something real, real fucked up. Something big. Something real." The memory is hazy, like the remnants of a nightmare. At the same time Hitoshi doesn't think he can ever forget a thing from that interaction—it's a part of him now, entwined with his core of self. "I think I know what's going on. I think I know why Midoriya has been—exorcizing these things."

Hitoshi sees a hand extended right in front of his eyes—Bakugou's. Hitoshi takes the hand, pulls himself standing. Bakugou's expression is as stiff as ever. "And why," Bakugou says, letting go, "has he been exorcizing them?"

"I think he wants us to go back," Hitoshi says. Hitoshi watches the expression flickering in Bakugou's eyes. "You knew that."

"Sure," Bakugou says.

The passivity pisses Hitoshi off. "So you're just gonna go along with it? Unending the universe is impossible, so you're just gonna take it lying down? Go gentle into the fucking good night?"

"Shinsou," Bakugou says, "It's already ending."

And Hitoshi can see that he's right. All around Hitoshi is, probably, what's left of the world. Scenes constructing and deconstructing itself, showing different things at different angles. They're standing in the classroom, in the dorms, in the city. They're fighting the League of Villains. They're fighting Godzilla. They're fighting themselves. They're fighting everything, at once. And Hitoshi remembers fighting them, is the thing—he remembers it all. They did beat the League of Villains, and the Godzilla, and everything else. They did win.

"We did," Bakugou says. "I killed Shigaraki Tomura. Uraraka Ochako killed Toga Himiko."

"She died in my arms," Urararaka says, and Hitoshi can see the blood splattered all over her Hero uniform and the tears rushing down her cheeks. She looks harrowed; they all are.

"Todoroki Shouto killed Dabi," Bakugou continues, like reciting a passage from a book. "Midoriya Izuku killed All for One. Jirou Kyouka killed Santa Claus. It all happened. We beat 'em all."

"Koda even beat the Godzilla," Kaminari says. "Well, he didn't beat it. He made friends with it."

"Rode on it like a little horse," Uraraka says, wiping her tears. "It was very cute."

"What I'm saying is, all of the Villains lost," Bakugou says. "It's over. And then everything just…" Bakugou gestures to the mosaic of happenings around them, refracted as if seen through water, like silk in the wind. "Started falling apart. And you went crazy."

"Yeah, you scared us, man," Kaminari says. He shrugs. "Well, it's not like we can get scared anymore, at this point."

"You went into this fugue state and started saying a bunch of stuff like you were narrating a book, or something. It was weird as fuck," Bakugou says. "Yaoyorozu, how're things looking?"

Yaoyorozu Momo is writing a bunch of things on a bunch of papers, fingers stained with ink. Unlike the rest of them, she is not in her Hero outfit; she is in her UA uniform, as if she is going to go to class. Her hair is unkempt as always and the size of her eyebags are truly something to behold. But there is a terrifying clarity in her eyes that Hitoshi hasn't seen before. Hitoshi takes one of the flying sheets of paper t to examine it; written on it is a string of complex looking formulas that has no fucking meaning to him, of course. What a cliche. Somehow, the predictability of it is comforting.

"Invariant sets have collided with equilibria," Yaoyorozu says serenely as her pen glides over the pages. Hitoshi watches as she runs out of ink and, strangely, plucks a new pen out of thin air. "The bifurcations are no longer local—we are now at a global scale. We are hurtling down to a critical value. Everything is slowing down to infinity…" She draws several diagrams—looping lines that Hitoshi can't make heads or tails of. "Or perhaps. We're about to collide with the main period orbit."

"A blue-sky catastrophe, huh?" Bakugou says, examining Yaoyorozu's diagram. "So we are still within the phase space?"

"Yes. We merely created a pocket space inside the phase space, but we are still a part of it nevertheless."

At the look on Hitoshi's face, Bakugou impatiently gestures to Uraraka, Kaminari, Tokoyami, Eri and Yaoyorozu. "Gravity, electromagnetism, shadows, time, creation. When everything started to fall apart, we cobbled together a tiny reality to keep us from participating in every possibility."

"A humble fold in the Fabric," Tokoyami says. "A belt loop. A pocket lining."

Hitoshi sees it now—the edges of the space they are in, right before it blends to the mosaic of every happenings in the world. "This is from your Quirks..?"

"Symbolically, yes," Bakugou says, waving him away. "I don't know how long we can stay inside though, if we're going to collide with the fucking main Universe."

Of course. Hitoshi doesn't have the strength to feel surprised anymore by anything that's fucking happening. "What's going to happen after the collision?"

"We'll disappear at the bifurcation point.." Bakugou shrugs. "Or immediately after it. Or we transition into a loop to saddle the equilibrium state. You know what that's like. Either way, bang."

Bang. The end. So easy, so simple…

He looks down, feeling something touching his leg. Eri. She's wearing clean, new clothes—Aizawa-sensei bought her some from the shops recently. She looks better now than she did on that day; less pale. Her scratches have bandaids on them now, some are half to healing. She deserves a better world than one that's about to be blasted into oblivion. Hitoshi puts a hand on her shoulder, gently. "It'll be fine," Hitoshi tells her. "Everything is going to be fine. Are you scared?" Eri nods.

Hitoshi smiles. "Me too." Hitoshi looks up at Bakugou, voice pinched, "Why'd you bring her into this?"

"Bring her? Look around us," Bakugou snaps, pointing at the mosaics of the world playing itself out. "When everything started to fall apart, everyone—and I mean everyone—got sucked into playing their parts in whatever fucked up theater of life happening out there."

Hitoshi sees it; Jirou Kyouka, in a mosaic, dead on a battlefield; yet on another mosaic, she looks older, having a wedding with what looks like an older version of Kaminari Denki. In another mosaic is Koda, still riding on the Godzilla; on another, he is riding a dragon instead, and then a wendigo, and then dying half-eaten by some kind of monster Hitoshi has never seen before...

None of these, Hitoshi understands, are the Jirou and Koda that he knows. But at the same time, they are.

"She found us, after Aizawa-sensei—" Bakugou doesn't finish his sentence, which Hitoshi is glad about. Hearing it hurts. "We can't just abandon her, can we?"

Hitoshi clenches his fist. "We need to find Midoriya."

"And then what? You're going to try and stop him?" Bakugou says. His words are sharp, but he sounds more exhausted than anything. "There is nothing to be done. We've done everything that could be done, in every conceivable fucking way. This is how it ends, Okinawa. Accept it."

"You haven't accepted it."

Bakugou glares at him. Hitoshi says, "You act like you have. 'The Universe will end. That is the one constant we can be fucking sure about,' " Hitoshi mimicks Bakugou's accent in mockery. "But if you truly believed that, you wouldn't be here, making a fucking bootleg pocket dimension with a bunch of crazy kids to stay who you are just for a little bit longer. You would be out there, with the rest of the world," Hitoshi nods to the phase space of possibilities outside. "Dancing out every single idea like a fucking puppet on a string."

Bakugou walks forward, and for a second, Hitoshi thinks that it's going to be a fight. They glare at each other, here at the edge of the world. Hitoshi isn't going to relent. This is not time to be kind or understanding. "Or maybe, you're not going to stop him because you feel guilty," says Hitoshi cruelly. "Because he fell. And you think you pushed him."

Bakugou's jaw clenches. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"But I do. You're the one who told me everything," Hitoshi says. He keeps his voice low so Eri can't hear him. "Well, fuck your tragic little backstory. This isn't about whatever went down between you and him. This is about the rest of the world."

"...You can't stop him," Bakugou grits out. "The cost—"

"We're overdue," Hitoshi reminds him. "So what does it matter?"

Bakugou shakes his head, veins twitching. Ooh, he hates Hitoshi so bad. Bakugou looks to the side at Yaoyorozu. "Yayorozu, can you calculate where Midoriya Izuku is?"

"Of course," Yaoyorozu assents, tranquil as a spring pond. "Everything curves towards him. Like a taut violin string mid-sonnet."

"...Aren't you overexerting your Quirk, Momo?" Ochako says, as Yaoyorozu plucks another paper and pen from nothing.

"I'm not using my Quirk," Yaoyorozu answers calmly, as a sheet of paper slides out of the void of space.

"She has foreseen what's beyond the Fabric, and simply calculated it into being," Tokoyami says as if commenting on the weather. "She simply mote it be with her Authority."

"Let there be pen," Yaoyorozu Authorizes, and so there is pen.

"Oh, god," Ochako says softly, falling to her knees, as she witnesses the blasphemy of reality that just happened with that pen summoning. "Oh, god..."

"Whatever," Bakugou says. "So, Midoriya?"

"Mhm," Yaoyorozu hums, writing another set of formulas on the papers—illustrations of curved lines and quickly rendered geometry that Hitoshi has never seen before. "We must simply calculate the eigenvalue which gives us the phase lines that will correspond with the representative solution curves, and this graph is tangent to the y-axis, and so—" she circles a number that means absolutely nothing to Hitoshi. "Midoriya Izuku will appear here in six seconds."

"...All right," Hitoshi says. "And how do we go wherever—there is?"

"How does one go to the other side of the Fabric?" Tokoyami muses. "We must simply fold the fabric, of course. Or cut it."

"That's right," Yaoyorozu says cheerfully—the cheeriest she has ever been in all the times Hitoshi has met her. "We just need to calculate a cut scene."

"What the hell's a cut sce—"


"—ne?"

"This," Midroiya Izuku says. "Now, that was a special one. That was called a match cut."

"Okay," Natsuo says, only because he's tired of asking questions at this point.

"The scene cuts," Izuku says. "Time does not backtrack, exactly. Flipping back a page does not change backtrack the Happenings itself. It's not a circle. It does not move back nor forth. No beginning nor end, only is. It Happens and Happens and Happens. All at once. The sea is symbolic, Todoroki-san. Give me your hand."

Todoroki Natsuo is in the sea. Blue ocean all around him, blue sky all above. The sea is symbolic and he is surrounded by a myriad, myriad of worlds. Something innate in himself knows this—it tells him this. Something is wrong. Something is so, so right. He was meant to be at this moment, with this strange kid. Meters away, on the shoreline, his car is wasting battery because he didn't turn the engine off. Kilometers away, the city of Musutafu and the rest of the country and the cosmic world are falling apart.

Natsuo gives Izuku his hand. "You were right," he says, a little hollowly. "I should've called my mom and sister." He hasn't been that good of a son, or a brother. That's his one regret. He should've killed his dad, maybe, and he should've … tried harder for Touya-nii. He should've tried harder for Shouto.

Overall, he did a pretty shit job. But there were good moments, he thinks. He just wishes he can get ramen with his mom and Fuyumi-nee and Shouto one last time.

"That's okay," Izuku says. His hands are smaller than Natsuo's, but has the warmth of a person, which Natsuo can appreciate at the apocalypse. "Everything that you wish you did, you've done in another point of spacetime. Take comfort in that."

"Sure," Natsuo says. "You said you're going to kill All for One. That huge Villain everyone's talking about."

Izuku hums. "Mhm, you've caught up, I see. The Fabric is getting inconsistent. Another symptom of its destabilization. But that's okay," Izuku looks up at Natsuo. "You know, Todoroki-san, I'm not entirely sure what your purpose here." He doesn't sound dreamlike anymore—there is an air of curiosity in his voice, now, with a clinical edge to it. "In the case of Togeike Chikuchi—I get the point of that particular moment. An interjection of an outsider's point of view puts things into perspective, all that. But if we already got that with her, why are you here?"

Natsuo watches as Izuku positions Natsuo's hand so that it's grabbing the collar of Izuku's hoodie. "Uh."

"My conclusion is simply that the fabric has Affinity to you," Izuku says. "Do it."

Strangely enough, Natsuo knows what he's asking for immediately. Natsuo lets him go, so quick it's almost violent; but Izuku is still holding his wrist—and he's stronger than he looks—keeping Natsuo's grip on him. "No. Hell, no—"

"You didn't want me to do it myself," Izuku says patiently.

"I'm not assisting your suicide!"

"The suicide is symbolic. When it's symbolic, it's baptism."

"This is crazy. I don't know you. And even if I did—"

"You do," Izuku says. "Just not this time."

"—even if I did, I would never—"

Izuku lets him go. "Fine, I'll do it myself then."

Izuku only manages to go under the water for a maximum of one second before Todoroki Natsuo pulls him up. Izuku coughs up saltwater, pissed off. "Oh, come on."

"Are you crazy," Natsuo hisses at him, hair wet and eyes wide. There is real concern, there, on his face—real fear for Izuku's life, a boy that he has only known for the last hour of his current existence. "I've had enough of this. Come with me right now—"

"To where? A psych ward? Where? In the city?" Izuku says. "Look. There is nothing there."

Natsuo looks and there indeed is nothing there.

He can see the beach. He can even see his car. But beyond that, it's nothing. It's Void. There is no other way to describe it. It's not even black—it's Colorless. Something his brain can't comprehend. It's just Nothing. It's as if they are a glitch in a game. "What did you—? What kind of Quirk is this..?"

"I'm Quirkless in this one," Izuku reminds him, as if Natsuo should've known. "Todoroki-san? Oh, please. We don't have time for panic attacks."

Natsuo is having a hard time breathing, but Midoriya's comment pisses him off so much he manages to grit out, "That's not a very nice thing to say."

"I'm sorry," says Izuku, who definitely isn't. "I don't have time to sympathize. Hey—it's okay. Deep breaths. Why don't you just think that you're in a dream right now? You're having a nightmare. It's okay."

"This isn't a nightmare," Natsuo says. It's all real—he can sense it. Something fundamental in him is telling him that everything has come to an end. "Fuck."

"Delusions would help, but your choice. All right then—at the very least let me go."

"No."

For the first time, the kid actually looks rather impatient. "Then kill me."

"No."

"I can't die," Izuku says, annoyed, as if Natsuo should've known that too. "Believe me, I tried. Look, this is all just symbolic, all right? This has to happen so I can cross over to the other side real quick. I'd do a cut scene, but that isn't enough of a shock to the parameters into generating a new point."

"You tried?"

Kid looks baffled at Natsuo's question. "That's what's bothering you? Todoroki-san, It's the end times."

Natsuo can't help it—his eyes flicker to the scar on the side of Midoriya's head. Midoriya catches him looking. "Good guess," Izuku says, smiling, as if it's so funny.

Natsuo doesn't think it'sfunny at all. Psych major or not, he knows there isn't any right thing to say to this, but. "I know there is no right thing to say. But for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

The smile is gone. The kid's gaze is cool and flat. "You don't know me," Midoriya reminds him.

"I don't need to."

At that, the kid is silent for a while. "Okay," he says. Then, not unkindly, "You're not sorry, you just pity me."

"Maybe," Natsuo agrees. "But for what you went through—"

"You don't know what I went through."

"—you deserve an apology. Anybody would. So I'm sorry."

"I don't deserve anything," Izuku says. There is no hint of remorse or self-hatred in that sentence—just a cold, factual statement. "I caused this."

Several thoughts come first before what Natsuo is about to say. First is that it's impossible. Something so major as an apocalypse can't be caused by some random fifteen year old with eyes too big for his face. Second is that it might be possible, after all; again, it's an interesting world that Natsuo lives in. But what comes out of his mouth is the third thought. "Everybody deserves something," he says.

Beat. Natsuo wonders if the Void has eaten up the horizon too, and if beyond this water there is nothing left in the world. "I can't give you anything in return for that," the kid says after a while.

He doesn't say it with any hint of irony, or sorriness, or anything like that. He says it like it's just another factual statement. Natsuo blinks. "You don't need to," says Natsuo. "It's not—I mean. It's not always a give and take."

Another beat. The kid sighs, long. Shakes his head. He looks up at Natsuo. "I know why you're here," he says. Then, "You should've had more screen time, you know that?"

"...I don't know what that means."

"I know," Izuku says. Then, "Baptism. By definition: the sacrament of admission symbolized by an immersion in water. Signifies rebirth to a new life. Absolving the past. Etc." He looks at Natsuo. "I have nothing to pay you with, but I ask you this. This won't kill me. Will you believe me?"

Natsuo swallows. He looks back out again, to the yawning abyss. Is his mom still out there? Fuyumi-nee, Shouto? He knows that underneath the numbness he feels right now is inconceivable fear, eating up his insides. "You caused this?"

"Yes," Izuku says. "I did. I'm sorry."

"Oh," he says. Natsuo doesn't know if he believes it—that Midoriya caused something so terrifying and absolute. But he supposes whether he does or not doesn't really matter. "It's okay."

"I'm fixing it," Izuku says. "I'll kill All for One and then we'll all go back. So don't worry."

"What do you mean, we'll all go back?"

Something softens in Izuku's eyes. "Tell me, Todoroki-san, what's the first thing you do if you suspect something is broken?"

Natsuo looks at him at that. And then he sighs, somewhat dejectedly. "Do you have weights in your pocket."

"That's not the kind of mass I carry," Izuku says, though he looks amused by the question. "What's going to happen is this: you're going to push me into the water. I'm going to disappear—not dead, but in your point of view, I will disappear. And then you're going to go back to your car and call your family. And this will all end."

"You mean, start again," Natsuo says as he approaches Midoriya carefully.

Midoriya smiles. He takes Natsuo's hand and puts it over his ribcage. Natsuo can feel his heartbeat; it's infinitely calm. "It's good to have met you in this one, Todoroki-san."

What happens next is a matter of perspective. It's all in the point of view.


From Todoroki Natsuo's point of view, he holds Midoriya Izuku in the middle of the sea and pushes him down for what feels like a sliver of a second. In the next sliver, Midoriya Izuku does not exist. Todoroki Natsuo will stand there in the sea holding nothing. And then he will look to the horizon and to the city and realize that it is the end of the world.

Todoroki Natsuo then walks back to the shore, jeans caked in seawater and sand. He gets into his car, uncaring that he's ruining his carpeting. He picks up his phone and makes a call, watching the way the horizon has completely disappeared beyond the sea.

"Hello?"

"Hey, mom? This is Natsuo."

"Oh, hello, Natsu. I was waiting for your call." Beat. "Are you smoking again?"

"Yeah," Natsuo says, noticing the way his hand shakes as he holds out a cigarette. "Sorry, I know I said I'd stop."

"It's okay," his mom says. He can hear the smile in her voice. "How are you?"

"I'm good. How's it over there?"

"Oh, you know," Todoroki Rei says. "It's the end of the world."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"I love you, mom."

"I love you too."

From Todoroki Natsuo's point of view, he sits in his car, talks to his loved ones, and everything ends.


From Midoriya Izuku's point of view, he is put into the sea, he kills All for One, and then he puts everything to an end.


From All for One's point of view, everything has been going according to plan.

Oh, yes. It has.

And he is the actor behind it all. The proponent. The beginning to the end.

This country—no, this world , is standing on a precipice. The world has always stood on a precipice. All for One knows that he is an archaic thing, oh, yes, he's been here for a long, long time, and for a long time humanity has always stood on the edge. All it takes is a push, a nudge, a whisper, a wish ... a Quirk. And another Quirk. And another, and another, and another.

He has lived a long life. And if you ask him the secret of the Universe, All for One can answer with the simple confidence of a man who has lived a long life, and lived it the way he wanted it. He will say that life is not hard or difficult. In fact, he will say that life is rather Kind. Beautiful, really. And giving. Very giving. He will say that, in life, all you have to do is take.

With this most simple, clear-cut principle of life, he bides his time. Tartarus is just another stopping point along the way of greatness.

He enjoys this, this … rest. This waiting game. He relishes, patiently, in the anticipation before the fall. And Something is brewing, he knows, for he can taste it in the air, feel it in his bones; there is something indeed shifting in the great cogs of Fate. It will come soon, he can feel it, the climax of this tale, the culmination of everything he has become, the—

All for One stills.

The air … shifts. The scent of salt permeates it, sharp and unforgiving.

All for One has eyes no longer, but he sees so much more now than his eyes had ever been able to. He smiles in a greeting. An inside joke between a thing and the world it believes it owns.

The time will come. The time has come.

Perhaps it's his many Quirks. Perhaps it's mere instinct—honed by years and years of vicious endeavors. All for One knows immediately that whoever just entered his maximum security prison is someone—some thing —special. One that perhaps deserves, even, to be used by him.

Or perhaps it's blood.

"Hello, there," All for One says. "Izuku, my son."

p"Nope," Izuku says./p

All for One stills.

The air … shifts. The scent of salt permeates it, sharp and unforgiving.

All for One has eyes no longer, but he sees so much more now than his eyes had ever been able to. He smiles in a greeting. An inside joke between a thing and the world it believes it owns.

The time will come. The time has come.

Perhaps it's his many Quirks. Perhaps it's mere instinct—honed by years and years of vicious endeavors. All for One knows immediately that whoever just entered his maximum security prison is someone—some thing —special. One that perhaps deserves, even, to be used by him.

Or perhaps it's years and years and years of bloodied rivalry.

"Hello, there," All for One says. "All Might's successor."

p"Wrong again," Izuku says./p

All for One stills.

The air … shifts. The scent of salt permeates it, sharp and unforgiving.

All for One has eyes no longer, but he sees so much more now than his eyes had ever been able to. He smiles in a greeting. An inside joke between a thing and the world it believes it owns.

The time will come. The time has come.

Perhaps it's his many Quirks. Perhaps it's mere instinct—honed by years and years of vicious endeavors. All for One knows immediately that whoever just entered his maximum security prison is someone—some thing —special. One that perhaps deserves, even, to be used by him.

Or perhaps it's a recognition of one's own self.

"Hello, there," All for One says. "My time-traveling younger self."

p"Oh, come on," Izuku says./p

All for One stills.

The air … shifts. The scent of salt permeates it, sharp and unforgiving.

All for One has eyes no longer, but he sees so much more now than his eyes had ever been able to. He smiles in a greeting. An inside joke between a thing and the world it believes it owns.

The time will come. The time has come.

Perhaps it's his many Quirks. Perhaps it's mere instinct—honed by years and years of vicious endeavors. All for One knows immediately that whoever just entered his maximum security prison is someone—some thing —special. One that perhaps deserves, even, to be used by him.

"Hello, th—" All for One pauses. The echoes of the presents that have never been left their imprints—ghosts of impossible sets of future. His smile flickers shut. And then lights his face once again. "Impressive," he says. "Temporal Quirk … or perhaps an exceptionally powerful cognitive Quirk?" and one that manages to bypass this cage the Heroes have so carefully constructed for him?

"Neither," Izuku replies, his steps barely making a sound in the dampened, sterile room. There is the sound of water dripping everywhere—it's as if this intruder has just come back from a swim. "Sorry about the interruptions—it can't be helped. The Fabric is so sheer, things inevitably seep through."

Instinct, blood, years and years of rivalry, or perhaps—Fate. An understanding of how the world works, of the miniscule patterns that make up the tapestry of the universe. All great villains have this particular instinct ingrained in them.

All for One understands, in this moment, that he is facing that Something. And that Something, he realizes, is Something Else. It is perhaps even older than him … no, that's not quite right. It's been here before him...

"That's a powerful thing you have there, boy," All for One says.

"Have? No, not have. You've got it all wrong. Still. very impressive of you to sense the fluctuations in parameters. But I guess that's to be expected from such a major player, hm?"

All for One considers all of this for a moment. "Tell me, child. What—"

"An exorcist." The boy—yes, it's a boy, All for One can sense that—looks around the all-white cell with mild and uncaring curiosity. "I perform the ridding of demons and the casting away of Chaos."

"Ah. A Hero."

"Oh, no, no, no," Izuku shakes his head as he walks closer and closer. "No. I'm out of that game—I've never been in that game."

"That was a lie," All for One says, for it is one of his many Quirks.

The boy—

The boy smiles.

"Is it now?" Izuku says. "Gosh, all right, then. I'll be more clear-cut." Smile disappears. "I've never been in that game in this one."

"And yet you are here to kill me."

The soft footsteps recede entirely. The boy is standing right in front of him, head tilted in that distant, apathetic scrutiny. "Well, I have to now, " Izuku says.

How cute. All for One smiles, almost kindly—if he's capable of such a thing—and condescendingly. "Of course," he says amiably. "Who is it that you wish to avenge, hm? A mother? A father? Or, perhaps, a friend?"

Izuku laughs a polite laugh. "Oh, no. Maybe in some other time space. But not in this one. No, I only … have a theory I'd like to confirm."

"Oh?"

"You see, All For One," Izuku says. "You are the main Villain. Supposed to be, anyway."

There is that again—that drag in space, like a finger running through pages of a book in a quick succession. An overlap. A stifling sensation of repetition, of being stretched thin between fragments. A mirror that cracks and cracks, a shape that never quite forms. The room itself feels like an echo, feels like the end of a sentence forever stuck at the tip of your tongue in a the tip of your tongue in a the tip of your tongue in a the tip of your tongue in a the tip of your tongue in a loop. All for One marvels in the queer sensation of almost.

"It all ends when the main villain dies. Did you know that?" The boy's voice does not pierce through the silence so much as it slices through it, layer upon layer, partitioning space into convergent sequences. "The death of the Villain is a universal constant, even in one as deviated as ours."

Perhaps it's instinct as well. True animal instinct, in face of something bigger than you are—something grander, something killing. A knowledge etched deep in the DNA that lights up in the moment of danger.

"And anyway, I'm just here to catch you up to the real thing," Izuku says. "You're already gone there, you know."

All for One calls for his Quirks.

"Oh, sorry. Those don't really work on me."

The Heroes never quite manage to take away his Quirks.

Iit's smart, All for One admits, this little cage they have created for him. Quirk suppressants and detectors, all their little gadgets and mechanisms. However, some of his Quirks are so old, so archaic, that their current technology could never hope to pin all of them down. All for One is happy to play along, though—happy to pretend that any of it is effective at all. Happy to pretend that his Quirks, however temporarily, are taken away. But really—and All for One knows this best—Quirks cannot be taken away.

Sure, there is that serum that that Yakuza child has created. Merely a temporary antidote—reverse the effect with the right Quirk, and you will be good as new. And of course, not everybody has a Quirk. This, too, is something that All for One knows well. A Quirk isn't something that is inherent. Some people are born with it—but some people don't die with it; All for One has seen to that. Owning a Quirk, just like not owning a Quirk, isn't endgame. Quirks can't be taken away but they can be stolen—they can be transported. They will never be truly gone unless the owner itself is gone.

And yet this boy manages to do just that.

No—he manages to do more than that. All for One's Quirks are more than just gone—it's as if they never existed in the first place. It's as if—as if he never had a Quirk—as if—as if—

As if he never had any Quirks at all.

As if all those years he stole from someone's Quirk never happened. As if All for One never happened. As if he never existed at all—

p"Oops—careful, there! You almost died," Midoriya Izuku says.

"I haven't even finished my monologue yet, you know?" a sigh. "I'm keeping you here temporarily so you can let me finish my monologue.

This is just temporary, though, I can't keep guaranteeing you forever—especially now that we're really pretty much caught up. I'm not omniscient."

Those ghosts of the future hit him like a vertigo and for the first time in a long, long time, All for One feels the forgotten sensation of fear, which is then snuffed out by the sensation of absolute terror.

What's happening, All for One would like to say, but he finds out he is no longer able to do so.

"What do you mean?

It's traditional, you know, to have a monologue, in climatic moments like this.

I mean. I'm sure you'd know. Wouldn't you, Villain?"

All for One no longer has a heart, but if he still does, it would explode in his chest.

He no longer has a digestive system, but if he still does, he would be vomiting all over the floor.

He no longer knows how to scream, but if he still does—

"Oh, stop that. Have some dignity," Izuku says flatly.

"You're supposed to be the main guy, and you can't handle a little time loop?

Mind you, Hitoshi handled it like a champ.."

Izuku shakes his head, disappointed.

"And I haven't even told you why I'm going to kill you yet. What a waste of a good trope.."

Izuku stares at the writhing non-thing in front of him in contemplative silence for a moment.

"I didn't think I would ever meet you, y'know. Not in this one."

If All for One still has functioning consciousness, he could see the boy scrutinize him like a scientist would a petri dish.

"I really didn't. I never wanted to, not really. Anyway. I have a theory that I wish … that I wanted to test out.

You see, If you die and everything ends, then you are the main villain.

But if you die and the world doesn't end, then we'll know that the main villain isn't you.

There was only one way to test it out. You don't mind, do you?"

All for One says nothing. Izuku blinks.

"Oh, sorry," he says. "I forgot you no longer has a mouth."

And then Izuku—/p

—lets the passage realign itself back slightly to the left, and so reality rushes in crumbles in falling into itself like the most perfect domino ever existed like puzzle pieces embracing each other in a seamless stitch Happenings happening helplessly haplessly hopelessly throughout forever ever and ever and all for one existed once and never at all and everything that he has ever wanted everything that he has ever taken neutralized putrefied necrosed nulled nulled nulled nulled—

"Oops," Izuku says, with the cold detachment of watching blood well after a cut. "You died. Very climatically as well. Really satisfying death right there. So riveting. Well."

Midoriya Izuku steps over what's left of All for One carefully. He watches as the interior of the backdrop of the scene, the maximum security prison of Tartarus where All for One resides, begins to deconstruct itself. Falling into the Void. He has no time, and yet..

Izuku sighs. "See, the Universe doesn't end after all," Izuku says to no one. "So I guess we know now."

What's left of All for One says nothing.

The eaten up scene says nothing.

The world says nothing.

The Universe stays perfectly silent.

But Midoriya Izuku is used to silence.

Aren't you?

"Shut up. It's a monologue. You are supposed to stay silent," Izuku says. "Nobody is supposed to reply."

Says Midoriya Izuku, his

"Shut up."

voice dripping with

"Shut up. Shut up."

an emotion that he

"Shut up, shut up, shut up—"

doesn't hasn't hadn't will not ever ever ever ever ever ever ever have ever ever ever have ever ever have ever evp/p

"Cutscene."

er ever ever ever ever ever ever ever have ever ever ever have ever ever have ever ever e

"Cutscene," izuku says. "Cut—"

ever. ever. ever. ever. ever. ever hav

"—scene, I said. I said, Cutsce—"


"—ne?"

"This," Yaoyorozu Momo says. "Oh, there he is."

Hitoshi turns to see Midoriya Izuku, stepping out of a mosaic and inside their pocket reality. At the same time, Hitoshi's phone that he didn't even realize he still has with him begins to sing: Mama, take this badge off of me, I can't use it anymore…

Guitar riffs fill the air. "Hello," Izuku cheerfully says. He is soaking wet from what looks—and smells—like seawater and blood. Something tells Hitoshi that the blood is not his. "Wow," Izuku muses, looking around the space with what seems to be genuine admiration. "This is very impressive, all. I feel proud. Hello, Shadowed One."

"Hello, The One Who Returned," Tokoyami says. Hitoshi watches as the two strange boys bow at each other like the most polite freakshow in the world. "I have not seen you in some time. But now, it seems our Time has come indeed."

It's gettin' dark, too dark to see, Bob Dylan laments from Hitoshi's phone. I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door.

"Indeed," Izuku says sweetly.

Tokoyami nods, and then turns to the rest of them. "I'll see you all, should Fate says so." Before any of them can do anything, Tokoyami steps out.

He doesn't burst into flames, or fall apart into dust as he outsteps the boundary of their made-up reality. He doesn't disappear, exactly. Instead, Hitoshi watches as strings—violin strings? Silk strings?—cocoon themselves around Tokoyami and there is a split, or a rift, that shines with a color Hitoshi can't define—and there is just the susurration of air, the sound of millions butterfly wings flying in the vast blue sky ... before Hitoshi sees Tokoyami Fumikage reflected in the myriad of probabilities in the wide, wide space.

Hitoshi feels it as the makeshift reality they're in starts to dissipate. Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door, Bob Dylan warns. "Well, fuck," Bakugou says next to him with no real urgency.

"You know," Kaminari Denki says. "I don't really know what's going on. It gets super muddy by the end of it, but … I did have some fun," he shrugs. "You guys are cool. But I don't think I'm needed in this scene, so. See ya when I see ya." He leaves.

Uraraka Ochako walks forward. She's as bloodied as Izuku is. "Is there one," Ochako says, eyes hollow, and she looks so unrecognizable that Hitoshi wonders if this actually is the Uraraka that he knows. "Where she..?"

"Yes," Izuku says.

Ochako smiles. "Thank you," Ochako says, and proceeds—to the surprise of everyone—to hug Izuku. She looks at the rest of them. "It's been fun," she says. She looks at Hitoshi. "Unfuck the Universe for us, okay?" And then she leaves.

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door.

Yaoyorozu Momo's feet are covered in paper and pens, clattering as she moves in space. "Yaoyorozu-san," Izuku greets politely. "No longer using blood magic, I see."

"It is quite last century after all," Momo says, just as polite. There is something in her, now, that Hitoshi also sees in Izuku—the edges of them are buzzing with something alive, and when they move Hitoshi can track the shadows of their past and future moving with them, too. "You know what I think, Midoriya-kun," she says serenely. "I think what you have planned for Fate is less interesting than what Fate has planned for you."

Izuku tilts his head. "And what has Fate planned for me, exactly?"

Her eyes are dark—the color of something full and hungry. Cat-like. "No harm in it, I suppose," she hums, melodic. "Do you want to Know?"

Beat. And then Midoriya Izuku bows his head a little, stepping aside as if deferring his passageway to Yaoyorozu. "I don't think so, Yaoyorozu-san. Thank you."

Yaoyorozu laughs, leaving paper and ink behind as she steps into her own set of probabilities.

"Well, well, well," Bakugou says to the absurdity of it all. "And then there were three. Isn't this just absolutely fucked."

"Kacchan," Izuku greets. "Hitoshi."

Three boys in a box, Hitoshi thinks. Dead, or alive? He can feel the mechanism of Bakugou's cobbled-together reality tremble apart. Below, Eri is squeezing the side of Hitoshi's pants. Hitoshi puts a hand over her hair in what he hopes is assurance. Then he looks up at Izuku. "We're here to stop you."

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door.

"Oh?" Izuku says. His gaze then, of course, moves to Bakugou. "All of you?"

Hitoshi has no time for whatever issues Bakugou is self-reflecting on right now. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?" Izuku runs a hand over his hair, his scar glinting with drops of water—some of which begin to not fall. Gravity's rules have disappeared from this space with Ochako's leaving. It's causing something strange with the way seconds pass; Time drips to the floor like honey, winding around their necks. "Do share with the class."

"You said you wanted to get rid of the Curse. And that the demons are a symptom of the Curse."

"I did."

"Midoriya," Hitoshi says. "You are the Curse. Those demons are here because of you."

Izuku watches him. "You exorcized one, didn't you," Izuku says, a genuine realization. There is real quiet surprise in those bland eyes—and something warm, like pride. "Huh. You're no longer my assistant, I suppose."

"If you want to get rid of the Curse, then are you getting rid of yourself?"

Midoriya shrugs. "That's nothing special," he says. "You have to preserve the Universal Constant after all."

"The toilet paper," Hitoshi says coldly.

"The toilet paper. Let's say, hypothetically, that a child is meant to be a Hero," Midoriya says. "This child has to go through a series of life-changing events in order to be one. Meticulously and consequentially, he has to suffer and persevere, to learn and fail and win, and then and only then, this child will be a Hero. They will be the Hero. And this is basic. This is meant to be the Universal constant. When that constant is taken away—bifurcation point. System goes into chaos. And so…" Midoriya gestures to himself. "I'm the mistake," Midoriya says. "I derived from the formula."

"Because you fell." Next to Hitoshi, he can sense Bakugou tensing up.

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door..

Midoriya just looks at Hitoshi calmly. "I'm not a Hero, Hitoshi. I'm not strong enough to be Dense, like you. That's my sin."

He doesn't say it with a single trace of self-pity. Just factual. Clear-cut. Even gentle. "I don't understand," Hitoshi says, even though he does.

"I'm the Villain," Izuku tells him gently. "And you are the Heroes. That's the set of parameters this world has. And this world has to end. So that we can start over. As a proper world."

Hitoshi shakes his head. He looks at Bakugou. "Did you know about this?" he says, angry. "Did you know that your childhood friend here wants to end the world?"

It doesn't matter if Bakugou knows or not—Hitoshi can see where Bakugou stands on the look on his face. "I didn't," Bakugou says quietly. "But the first thing you do when something is broken is to reset it."

"This world isn't broken," says Hitoshi, who is surrounded by a world that's breaking apart. "I don't give a fuck what Canon's like—life doesn't have structure. It's not supposed to be perfect. And sometimes, sometimes, things just simply don't make sense. And that's okay. That's not broken, that's just life being life!"

Izuku shakes his head. "You haven't seen it, Hitoshi. The True Universe. I have," Izuku says. There is a quality in his voice that isn't quite wistful, but it's close. Like recalling a sweet, impossible dream. "It's perfect. It has a point. Canon is order. But us?" Izuku shakes his head again. "It took me a while to realize it too, you know. But now I Know. The one who wants us gone is this Universe itself. Because we are the entropy. We are the excess … the wrong arrangement."

It's quite something, to be told that your very being is wrong. Hitoshi's hand tightens on Eri's shoulder. "I'm not letting you do that."

Izuku smiles. "I know. I was counting on it."

Something is wrong. A warning alarm blares in Hitoshi's head. "Counting on it?"

"There needs to be an ending after all," Izuku says. "And I'm the Villain."

Hitoshi stares. "Don't you see," Bakugou says beside him, his voice low. "He's the Villain. We're the Heroes. The Universe only ends when the Villain is dead."

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door.

Oh.

He says it all so neatly. So simply. Like one plus one is fucking twelve. Hitoshi feels the void itself opening a pit in his stomach as the realization hits. Oh. But also, of course. This was, in retrospect, inevitable. There has to be a big battle. There has to be a big resolution. For the bifurcation point to happen, a cost must be paid. Shinsou Hitoshi thought he was going to stop Midoriya Izuku—how else was it supposed to happen?

He was wrong. He can still find it in him to feel absolutely sick.

"Well then!" Midoriya Izuku says cheerfully, clapping his hand. "If you want to stop me, you know what to do." He looks at Bakugou Katsuki. "You know what to do, Kacchan."

The look on Bakugou's face—it's the most vulnerable Hitoshi has seen Bakugou. Bakugou's Quirk hisses to life, burning with sugar and fire. Bakugou says, looking only at Izuku, "Was it supposed to happen like this?"

Izuku says nothing. Bakugou says, his voice breaking, "In the other—were we—did I ever … to you?" he stops, and whatever verb he meant to say, it's only kept between him and Izuku. Hitoshi can't fathom it. "At the end of it. Did I—?"

For a single moment, something softens, and Izuku looks like the teenage boy Hitoshi knows he is. "Yes," Izuku says softly. "It was perfect."

"Oh," Bakugou breathes. He looks like he's in pain. "Oh." Pause. "But that's not us now. Is it."

"It could be."

Bakugou looks at him.

"You know what to do, Kacchan," Izuku says again. "You're too smart not to."

Bakugou's Quirk flares, and for a second Hitoshi really thinks he's going to do it. But then his fire fizzles out. "I can't," Bakugou says. "I can't do it."

The softness disappears; Izuku rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on. It'd be so easy. Just like old times, Kacchan, come on."

"I can't do it. I won't. Ever again. I—" Bakugou grits his teeth, eyes pinched shut. He looks at Izuku again, the expression on his face like a broken mirror. "I know I won't ever make up for it in this one," Bakugou says. "It's not the same. Not as perfect. Won't measure up. I know that.."

Bakugou kneels and bows deeply. "I apologize," Bakugou says.

It seems as if Izuku has turned to stone, completely expressionless. Seconds pass—Bakugou stays in his dogeza. And then, to Hitoshi's astonishment, he promptly walks away. Hitoshi watches, still astonished, as Bakugou disappears from sight, bleeding into the many probabilities where maybe, just maybe, he will find the perfection that he's looking for.

Izuku turns to Hitoshi. That expressionless mask has disappeared—it's the other mask of Midoriya Izuku that's familiar to Hitoshi now; Jovial, bland, and utterly fake. "That's the thing, you see," he says, as if making a small talk. "Kacchan thinks he triggered it. But it's not true, because I made the choice. I made the fall," Izuku smiles something that does not reach his eyes at all. "He can't take all the credit for it. I'm the one paying in installments after all."

Hitoshi just stares. Izuku stares back, his gaze even. Izuku says finally, "I always knew it'd come down to this," and Hitoshi feels something in his chest break.

Was this preconceived, too? Is this an idea as well, something that he has no say in? Was it always going to come down to this?

Has he truly no choice at all?

"Hello," says Izuku, kneeling down to look Eri in the eye. "You look well. Still carrying the burden, I see. So? Have you considered my offer?"

Hitoshi snaps out of it when he feels Eri move next to him, as if to reach out to Izuku. "Don't," Hitoshi says, taking a step back.

Around him air splinters apart. Hitoshi tastes it again: Chance and Fate, slipping their ways into the broken bubble Bakugou made, the demons singing their song. They don't have much time. "You don't have much Time, Hitoshi," Izuku says kindly. "The collision will happen one way or another. They already ended—we are catching up. You have to choose."

His options: the demons, or the Universe? Become a plaything to reenact near infinite ideas over and over again or be … what? Be what he's supposed to be, and end how he's supposed to end?

None of these choices give him a choice.

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door.

Around him shadows darken. In an instant, Izuku dons that invisible bow and arrow—except now Hitoshi can see them. His eyes catch the shape and color of them, dark and hungry like Yaoyorozu's eyes. As Izuku nails a non-cat that began to slither around Hitoshi's ankles, he warns, "Make it fast, Hitoshi. I can't keep all of them at bay. There needs to be an ending after all, and—"

"Did you really?" Hitoshi says, hugging Eri closer to him. The cats sing and sing. "Did you really know it'd come down to this?"

Izuku looks at him, expressionless again, but Hitoshi knows better. Just like how he can seee the bow and arrow, he can tell, now. He can tell that Midoriya Izuku is much more like him than Izuku himself knows. "There is only one way out of this," Izuku says gently as the demons crowd in their unreality, trailing countless chances and Fates all over Hitoshi's skin. "Just one. And it's easy. It's so easy, Hitoshi, you're good at this."

Hitoshi's hand grips Eri's so tight, and he hopes, in the name of anything at all that he still believes in in this ruined world, that she will not let him go.

"Shinsou Hitoshi," Midoriya Izuku says. "You believe in every single thing that I say."

The thing that's breaking apart in Hitoshi's chest crumbles to pieces. "Are you fucking serious…" Hitoshi wants to laugh. He wants to scream. "Are you fucking—"

"Repeat after me," Izuku says. "Midoriya Izuku doesn't exist."

"No, no, no—"

"Hitoshi," Izuku says. "Repeat after me."

"No. Fuck no, I'm not gonna—"

"Hitoshi!"

It's a snap. It's the most emotion Hitoshi has heard in Izuku's voice—a streak of honest to god anger lacing it, an urgency. Hitoshi looks up. Midoriya is glaring at him, green eyes not empty for once. Alive, for once. Like a person. Like a boy. A boy just like Hitoshi.

"Repeat after me, Hitoshi," Midoriya says, furious and demanding. "Midoriya Izuku doesn't exist. Say it now."

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door.

"Fuck you," Hitoshi says.

That anger holds, in Midoriya's eyes, and then it softens into some kind of gallows mirth. Midoriya smiles. Not the empty kind—the real one. Rueful, but real. Like a person. Like a fucking person. "Midoriya Izuku doesn't exist," Midoriya Izuku says, softly. "C'mon, Assistant-kun. Say it. It's so easy. Really so very easy. Say it with me. Midoriya Izuku doesn't exist."

"...How could you make me do this?" Hitoshi says. "I'm a—I'm a—"

I'm a Hero, he wants to say. Heroes are supposed to save people. Not kill them. Not make them stop existing. Because that's what's gonna happen, Hitoshi knows, the moment he says that sentence. The moment he speaks it into existence.

This Izuku—he'll go poof. He'll go fucking bang. Just so that the proper, not-broken one can take his place.

It's all so fucking stupid. So fucking cruel.

"You set me up," Hitoshi says. To Izuku. To the world at large. "You all … you all set me up. Me? Why me? Why do I have to do this?" Hitoshi wants to scream. Cry. He feels like he doesn't have enough air in his lungs. "Why me? Why is this happening to me? Why do I have to do this? Why am I—chosen? Why?"

"There is no answer."

"That's—what?"

"There is no answer," Midoriya Izuku repeats. "There has never been an answer. There will never be an answer."

"That's..." fucked up. Unfair. So unfair. So—so absurd. So—

"But I think," Izuku says. "It's because we are loved."

Hitoshi stops. Stares at him.

That verb—that verb that he couldn't understand, that he couldn't compute for how enormous it is. How inconceivably terrifying. 'Cause here, we can see you, and if we can see you, we can Know you, and if we can Know you—

"It's because," Izuku says. His voice is—it's indescribable. It's beyond calm, beyond tranquil. It's like the air shimmering above the ocean as the sun rises. Like the soft earth after rain. Like the ringing silence after a blood-curdling scream. Like the final wisp of smoke from a dying fire. "We are loved so much. We are believed so much. The world believes that we are, and so we are. Do you understand?"

"I have to go through this," Hitoshi says. "Because the Universe believes I can go through this?"

Izuku smiles.

"The Universe Knows you can go through this," Izuku corrects him, tenderly. Tender as a kiss to the forehead. Tender as a slit to the wrist. "That's why you have to go through this."

"...This isn't love. If the Universe isn't kind, or understanding," Hitoshi says. "How can it have the capability to love?"

"Love isn't kind or understanding," Izuku replies.

And Hitoshi realizes—with horror, with clarity, with grotesque calmness and with gratuitous despair—that Hitoshi does understand it.

He Knows it.

Hitoshi takes a deep breath, inhaling air that does not exist. He looks down to see Eri still staring at him, eyes big and childish and innocent and hurt and so, so sad. Looking at her—it all feels too much, too overwhelming. Too complicated. The world is so big and painful and beautiful and complicated and colorful, and Hitoshi is struck by how soft and small they all are. How hopeful, compared in size. He is struck by the weight of the near infinite set of probabilities, colliding against each other again and again like stars. He wonders how many others are out there right now, facing the same impossible choice. Wonders if they don his name. He wonders if they are happy. Satisfied. Heroic. Villainous. Breaking apart. Making an impossible choice.

None of them matters. The only thing that matters right now is this shitty, half-baked version of him.

"It's going to be okay," he tells Eri. He holds her tiny hands in his, looking into her eyes, mustering every bit of conviction he has left into his every word. "Listen, Eri. No matter what happens, I will find you in that alley, and I will take you home." It doesn't matter in which timeline or in which Universe; Hitoshi doesn't give a fuck about the statistical improbability of it all—he's saying it into existence and it will be true. "I will always take you home. I promise you this. Will you believe in me?"

She's a smart girl. She nods. "Okay," she says softly. "I believe in you."

His chest explodes into warmth. It's incredible, Hitoshi thinks, to be believed in. It really does make you exist more. It's beautiful, and it's beyond painful. Hitoshi looks at Izuku. "Okay," he says.

Izuku leans down. "Eri," Izuku says, voice low and kind, "Can I make a trade with you? All you have to do is help us a little. And in exchange, you can ask me whatever you want, and I'll give it to you. How does that sound?"

There is a pause where Hitoshi thinks Eri is going to back down and hide behind his legs again. But then Eri moves forwards, tentatively, to whisper in Izuku's ear. "I see. All right," Izuku says warmly, as Eri leans back to hide behind Hitoshi's legs again. "Do you want me to keep your request a secret?" Eri nods. "Okay, consider it done. Will you give me your hand, please, Eri-san? You don't have to do anything, Eri-san. Your presence is enough. Yes, perfect. Thank you."

Eri's hand is small atop of Izuku. Izuku glances at Hitoshi. "Now, Hitoshi," he says quietly. "Your hand, please."

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door.

Beat. Slowly, Hitoshi gives him his hand. They look at each other. Izuku's hand is warm in his. A living and breathing person. A kid. Hitoshi wants to believe so, at least. He wants to believe that the both of them are kids—just kids—loved by the world, by eternity. Kids whose endings have been decided the moment they were loved into existence. He has to believe this. He has no choice but to believe this.

Izuku smiles at him—a real boy's smile. "I believe in you, Hitoshi."

Hitoshi says, "Midoriya Izuku doesn't exis—"


BANG!


僕のヒーローアカデミア Boku no Hero Academia My Hero Academia reviews

A superhero-admiring boy enrolls in a prestigious hero academy and learns what it really means to be a hero, after the strongest superhero grants him his own powers.

My Hero Academia/僕のヒーローアカデミア - Rated: T - English - Humor/Romance - Chapters: 430 - Words: ∞ - Reviews: ∞ - Updated: 8/5/2024 - Published: 9/7/2014 - Izuku M., Katsuki B., Shouto T.


Chapter 1: Izuku Midoriya: Origin

People are not born equal. That's the hard truth I learned at age four.

"Wow," Midoriya Izuku says. "A giant Villain!"