He was alone, settled in familiar darkness that had started comforting him at some point in his life. He wanted to move, to search for something that he couldn't quite remember, but his body was sluggish and unresponsive, his limbs heavy as if there were weights tied around his wrists and ankles. A very dull sense of panic started to form in his brain, contradictions and questions filling his head with a speed and texture similar to that of wet sand. Was the absolute silence better than the screaming? Was staying in the inky black abyss better than facing white walls? Was he not meant to be somewhere else, unknown but safe all the same?

His hand twitched, his arm contracting and colliding with something solid. Whatever it was, Izuku wanted it and he fought against his own body to wrap his hand around it. It was cold and familiar, paper and ink, and Iuzku smiled for the fraction of a second that the object remained solid in his hand before something grabbed his wrist hard and pulled him forward.

His eyes widened, shapes swimming in the darkness just far enough to melt and disappear without him being able to tell what they were. The thing that held him grabbed his other wrist and then his chest and stomach, a mask of black pushing closer and closer to his face. He wanted to fight it, wanted to close his eyes and run, but the face inched closer both slow and fast, more hands holding his face still so that this person—this thing—could easily press forward until their foreheads touched.

For a moment, all was silent. Black eyes just looked at him intently, the tiny distance distorting the faceless existence looking into his soul. Izuku finally forced a pitiful croak out of his mouth, the effort feeling horrid on his chest.

And then the thing screamed, loud, piercing, and crackling with the static that speakers tend to show before releasing him and letting him drop like a rock, further down into the abyss

His breathing stopped for a second and his spine straightened as if he'd been shocked, jolting back into his body almost painfully. He looked around in a kind of dazed fear, the realization that the car had simply gone over a bump in the road hitting him like ice water. Toga was holding his hands—when had that happened—and looking at him with worried eyes, Dabi's brow raised in confusion.

"You good?" The eldest Todorki asked as he cracked his back, struggling when his seatbelt halted him in place. They were all wearing them, how funny; criminals worried about vehicular protocol and safety, it was kinda ridiculous, right?

"Izuku?" Toga cocked her head and Izuku jumped a little.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I-I'm good!" He chuckled awkwardly, feeling incredibly hot. He realized that he was tapping his foot in search of comfort and stopped abruptly. "Just, uh, my head hurts a little. I'm fine, though!"

"Uh-huh," Dabi replied sarcastically, thankfully not pressing the matter any further.

"Was it a bad dream?" Toga whispered carefully, watching Izuku with smart eyes as the teen cracked his neck. He hesitated for a second, his eyes locking with Stain's in the reflection of the rearview mirror for a fraction of an instant before the sting of Stain's words back in Deika forced him to look away.

It was odd being back in a car after his kidnapping, but there was no real comparison to being locked in a trunk for hours and so he'd managed to keep his panic under control by simply rubbing his wrists and tapping steadily on the seat of the car. He'd fallen asleep against his will at some point, much to his dismay, and he pinched his arm hard as punishment; no matter how safe he felt with his mentor and friends by his side, he'd already been enough of a burden. At least the knowledge that he was, most probably, actually not in the white room was nice; he'd never been shown a vision inside a vision, so his dream and surrounding had probably been real.

Yearning for a distraction, Izuku leaned over the seats in front of him.

"Is he still out?" He asked quietly, grimacing at the sight of Hara's face. When they'd left that cursed city, Hara and he had been overcome by a hyena-like laughing fit that had only ended when he started complaining about a migraine and then the yakuza had swiftly gone from ecstatic to unconscious much to everyone's terror. Thankfully the man hadn't dropped dead, but Izuku had noticed that his wounded eye was in much worse shape than he'd originally thought, fresh blood and pus oozing out while they'd changed his bandages, which had sunken into the socket. Stain had mentioned in a grave voice that someone had pushed into his wound to keep him 'compliant' and Izuku had had to fight back a panic attack at the idea.

Morse shifted under her covers, a tiny, dirtied lump with her seatbelt perfectly secured, and she placed a hand on Hara's chest. The man didn't stir and her other hand gripped his shirt tightly, her fingers tapping away. Izuku patted her head softly, offering a smile even when she wasn't looking.

"He'll be okay," He reassured with a heavy sigh, Stain's eyes following him silently. He had to check Hara's pulse and his healthy eye to believe it, thankful that the new bandages were still clean for the most part. That speck of red was probably normal. Right? He wouldn't be bleeding if he wasn't alive, right?

"Yeah, he'll be fine," Izuku expertly concluded, landing back in his seat with a thud. He caught sight of Stain looking at him in the rearview mirror and smiled tightly, his entire brain pushing back the wave of nervous nausea that threatened to take over. His slight breakdown over his mother's status still weighed on him heavily, his entire being working overtime to try and keep him calm now. He knew that technically he was safe once more and there was no better place to fall apart than with Stain and Toga by his side, but he doubted he'd be able to cry even if he tried. His emotions felt oddly subdued, his brain fogged with a pleasant static that he was in no hurry to dissipate.

He had yet to ask about his companions' fresh scars, only comforted by the fact that neither of them looked particularly upset about them. The damage to Dabi's arms was out in the open, his coat snuggly wrapped around Toga, and it was obvious now that whatever healthy skin the man had had was now tinted a deep burgundy. He wondered briefly what Shoto would think of that.

The urge to inquire about his two missing friends resurfaced. He bit his lip, swallowing all his words as he looked out the window once more, fully aware that Stain wasn't the only person using the rearview mirror to keep an eye on him. The driver, this unknown person, hadn't spoken a word, his dark eyes darting from shape to shape ever so often. Izuku assumed that the man was a yakuza like his friend, the whole thing about Hara's boss ordering the rescue not slipping from his mind, but that left him with more questions than answers. How had Stain gotten in contact with the mafia of all people? It made more sense that the initial approach had come from the other side, but still, how had that happened at all? Was the deal complete once Hara and the mysterious little box were delivered, or was there more to it? Why would Dabi describe Spinner and Shoto as collateral, of all things?

With specks of doubt and paranoia threatening to flood his mind, he suddenly realized how hungry he was and groaned, leaning against the window dramatically and letting the vibration of the glass distract him.

"We're almost there, I think," Toga murmured reassuringly, patting his arm when he groaned again, his stomach rumbling just as loud.

"When did you last eat?" Dabi asked with a frown, picking at a staple that was very out of place.

"...I think it's been a few days." Izuku sighed. Toga tensed at his side and furious red eyes landed on him from the front, making him shiver and blush. "It's fine! It'll pass, it always does!"

He sounded like he was apologizing, which made the people around him look even more upset, and he bit his lip nervously. He'd already caused them all so much trouble and grief, he didn't want to make it any worse. He was back with them now and that's what mattered, right? It was over. Right?

"Kinda surprised they fed you at all," Dabi shrugged.

"Can you not say something nice for once?" Toga's brows furrowed as Dabi smirked.

"Pretty sure you don't keep me around for my sunny disposition." The staple Dabi had been fiddling with came off, a spurt of coagulated blood shooting out of the wound. The eldest Todorki blinked in something akin to disbelief before shrugging and placing the staple on Toga's awaiting hand.

"You're falling apart. It's a shame, I did such a good job with the new ones, too."

"Oh yeah, you're probably so upset about having to do it again,"

"A girl can have hobbies," Toga stuck out her tongue cheekily, completely ignoring the look of perturbed disgust that crossed Dabi's face.

"You are a certified psychopath."

"And you're not?" Her nose crinkling in amusement, Toga's smile widened as the eldest Todoroki rolled his eyes and cracked his fingers one by one, two of them stubbornly not making any noise.

Izuku sighed, rubbing his face hard enough to make his nose ache. He felt so unimaginably tired, but there was no way he'd allow himself to drift back to sleep after his unsettling dream, so he waited anxiously for the car to stop. Thankfully Toga had been right and he didn't have to hold his breath long before they pulled up at some random, abandoned-looking house. The garage door opened slowly, miraculously staying attached by its hinges, and the SUV's motor finally died down.

"How long was I asleep?" Izuku dared to whisper, so low that his lips barely even moved.

"Like three hours," Toga chipped in, a gleeful smile spread across her face as she gently, experimentally, poked at the loose fabric hanging off Morse's form. As doors opened and people started moving, the latter started whimpering in confusion, her frail hands grasping the fabric of Hara's shirt for dear life.

"It's okay, Morse," Izuku tried to comfort her, letting her grab his hand and tap frantically on the center of his palm. Toga watched them in obvious fascination, blush reaching her ears. She seemed to want to ask something, but she was biting back her words with some obvious hesitance. Maybe she'd realized that it wasn't the time for trivial questions, or maybe it was the look Stain was giving her, his usual malice sharpened by something Izuku couldn't quite comprehend.

His eyes narrowed when the door on Hara's side opened and two people pulled the wounded man out, thoroughly ignoring Morse's panicked attempts at holding onto his clothes. Izuku wanted to complain about the rough handling of his friend, but Dabi placed a hand on his shoulder. Their eyes met and Izuku swallowed at the seriousness that he saw staring back at him.

"Stay sharp, Disciple," Dabi whispered before jumping out of the car after Hara.

"These guys might look organized but they're kinda lame. Don't worry about them." Toga smiled, standing up and pulling him along. Izuku nodded, leaning down by Morse's seat and very gently pulling on her elbow. She followed obediently.

"Come on, we gotta go." He told her softly, offering a smile when she childishly lifted the curtain to look at him. Her eyes darted from him to Toga, her little whimpers making his heart ache.

"Hara?" She asked fearfully, "Where?"

"He's okay, Morse. Let's go see him, alright?" He reassured, guiding her out of the vehicle as you would a frightened animal. Her bare feet met the cold concrete and she immediately pressed herself against Izuku blindly, sounding just like a wounded dog. Toga gave them both a loving look, her blush more visible after she'd used the jacket Stain had given her to wipe away some of the blood.

"We'll make sure you stay safe. I'm Izuku's friend, so I'm your friend, too!" She said sweetly, eagerly offering her hand by softly bumping her knuckles on Morse's hand. It looked like she wanted to jump the frightened girl with a massive hug, but she was thankfully being careful with her moves, looking at Izuku for approval. Morse flinched a tad in surprise, but she was convinced by the gentle touch—and Izuku's hum of approval—that there was nothing to fear and she eventually offered her hand shyly. Toga beamed, locking their pinkies in a gesture that was honestly pretty adorable.

"Move it," Stain called, looking uncomfortable and unimpressed as he waited for them to catch up.

Izuku took a moment to scan their surroundings. They were inside a small garage, the walls bare and the space riddled with boxes. It seemed like they were inside a plain old house, though Izuku didn't have the chance to explore the area properly. He caught a glimpse of a run-down kitchen past an open door, a few men sitting around the space, before they were led down a corridor with a single, ominous door at the end. The whole thing seemed to tilt to the right as he walked, his feet tripping over one another as he tried, desperately, to keep his composure. It was okay, he was fine. Toga took his hand and he shivered, smiling almost as if he was being forced. It was hard to fight off the horrible flashbacks that struck him, but he managed to cross the threshold without having a major meltdown. He was fine, he told himself as he was led down a long flight of stairs and into a corridor that turned into another and another, an endless march that he only tolerated because everyone else seemed to be familiar with the excursion. He was wholly unaware of how much time they spent underground, though he calculated that it was over half an hour. The floor tilted up and down as they went, the walls getting cleaner and brighter. It felt like they were being guided through a maze, doors here and there and hallways breaking apart from the main path, all ending in more turns than Izuku cared to keep track of. His thoughts bent and twisted along with the tunnels around them, his concerns growing with every passing minute. Wanting to avoid his own mind as much as possible, he focused on Hara's limp body being carried down the hall, the sound of echoing steps, Stain's back as the man walked, anything to keep himself from connecting dots that most definitely didn't belong together, but it was getting harder and harder to not suspect the little things around him. Was this place just a needlessly complicated type of construction or was it a liminal space only possible in a vision? Was the smell of disinfectant permeating the air too intense and distinct, like an imitation trying too hard to prove itself? Was Dabi's skin not the right texture, or Toga's hair not the correct length? He let out a shaky sigh, pressing the bottom of his palms against his eyes and trying to focus on the little lights that came from the force. He was fine, he told himself for the tenth time that day. It was fine.

A violent fit of coughing broke him out of his trance, the sound echoing around them like gunfire, and the men ahead of them stopped walking, the sudden ruckus making everyone tense in anticipation with varying degrees of subtlety. Dabi and Stain simply widened their stances, eyes zeroing in on the possible threat that the two yakuza might pose, while Toga noticeably pulled Morse so they'd both be closer to Izuku. The most obviously rattled of the bunch, Izuku's eyes darted around wildly in search of a secret door or a flash of violet and blue before landing on Hara as the two men sat him down against the wall. He was hacking and vomiting pitifully, his chest convulsing from the effort as bile and blood, both red and black, flew from his mouth. Izuku leaped into action, shaking off Toga's grasp to dive down next to his friend.

"Hey, breathe! You're fine," Izuku said—shouted, though he didn't notice at the time—, his hands flying to rearrange Hara's position so he wouldn't choke on his vomit. It wasn't much at all, the exaggerated retching only producing specks of bright red and dull, dark brown amongst an amount of saliva that spoke of how dehydrated the man was. A horrified whimper escaped Izuku's lips as he felt his friend writhed and shook, the white of his eye visible through the tiny crack it had opened. Behind him, Toga held Morse, talking about anything to keep the girl distracted.

"It's okay, just let it out, it's fine," Izuku murmured as he held Hara's cold, pale face between his hands, noticing how gaunt the young man looked. He needed water, food, and probably a shitton of medications, and an IV for good measure and a sliver of hope grew in his chest as he watched one of the men pull out his phone and press it against his ear.

"They're getting you help, okay?" Izuku said, wincing at the hollow moan that Hara emitted, drool dripping from his lips. "You're gonna be okay."

Hara shivered, chest tensing and contracting before relaxing, his head lulling forward with another pitiful wheeze. A cold kind of numbness settled over Izuku like a blanket, his muscles threatening to lock up as he was, even when his brain knew very well that he had to move. It took him an actual second, his first movement janky and forced, before he found the strength to look for a pulse.

"Hara?" He whispered dumbly, eyes widening when Hara's face leaned to the side and threatened to dive into the floor. He moved much faster than his emaciated body should have been able to, placing Hara flat against the ground and starting CPR. There was a sharp pain in his hands as he laced his fingers, some broken and some recently dislocated, and pushed on Hara's chest. A figure stepped closer on his right, the splash of red he caught in his peripheral making Izuku feel more grounded, if only by a bit.

"I can't feel– Am I stupid?" Izuku whispered as fast as he could, not wanting to lose the appropriate rhythm because of his shaking hands and stiff arms. Stain pressed two steady fingers right below Hara's jaw, eyes narrowing before checking the man's wrist.

"Nothing,"

"What do… What should I do?"

"Calm down. Keep it steady, do not stop."

"Okay." Izuku exhaled forcefully, brow burrowing. He even started counting up to thirty under his breath, trying very hard to not get distracted by the movement going on around him.

"Where's Overhaul?" Stain asked curtly, stepping into the other yakuza's space so he couldn't be ignored. The man on the phone gave Izuku a look full of disdain and the teen felt something akin to hate stirring in his chest.

"Oi, he asked you a question," Dabi scoffed, taking a step forward and effectively making one of the strangers take a step back. Good.

"The boss is expecting us further ahead." Came the eventual, apathetic response. Izuku almost lost his tempo, his teeth gritting so hard that he half expected a molar to snap.

"And what do you geniuses suggest we do with him?" Toga asked, her usually sweet demeanor buried under the ruthlessness of a killer despite her young age and rosy cheeks. The fact that she was gently holding Morse so the other girl wouldn't wander off only added to the contradiction.

"Drag him,"

"We can't!" Izuku spat, getting to his third set of compressions.

"Gee, you guys are real idiots,"

"You're just here to deliver the goods as part of your deal," The man huffed, looking down on Toga the way some targets had right before she got them in the neck. The tension was thick, the very frail, superficial nature of whatever agreement they had with the yakuza coming to the forefront.

"You mean the job none of you could pull off without us?" Dabi mocked, a spark coming off his lips as he smirked.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's it," Stain hissed, his hand reaching for a blade as if they weren't located deep in the bowels of an enemy's hideout. "Get your boss now or I'll also be delivering you two in pieces."

"You wouldn't dare–"

"Try me," It was a murderous invitation, an open dare that reminded Izuku of the things that had drawn him to the Hero Killer in the very beginning. There was a heavy pause, but it didn't take long for the man to realize that Stain was not only not bluffing, but also quite excited at the prospect of hacking him to bits; add to that the small flames dancing on Dabi's fingers and the gleeful smile spreading on Toga's face, and you had a very real pack of wolves just waiting for the tiniest provocation to strike.

Despite the panic in his heart, Izuku smiled.

The man on the phone started to talk faster, more urgently, before both yakuza simply stepped back and away, further down the hall.

"Lame cowards," Toga scoffed, patting Morse on the head as the other girl clung to her.

"You think we're gonna have to worry about them?" Dabi asked, hand extended as he aimed at the retreating figures. It was probably pointless considering that his quirk was powerful enough to engulf the entire space in flames without the need for accuracy, but the gesture was impossibly intimidating nonetheless.

"...They're not a threat." Stain sighed, fingers tapping on the handle of a knife as he turned towards Izuku. "How's he doing?"

"Same, I think."

"How long are you even supposed to do that before you cut your losses?" Dabi asked sarcastically.

"I'm not giving up," Izuku bit back, pointedly ignoring how much his shoulders hurt. A few weeks ago he might have been able to carry on for an hour but now his body didn't waste a chance to beg for a break, pangs of pain and taut muscles hitting him just when he was willing himself to forget.

Look at yourself, Izuku, you can't do anything!

The memory struck him suddenly, his vision swimming as he missed a beat in his motions. He cursed, straightening his back and getting back to keeping Hara's heart pumping, even if it was artificial and he wasn't doing anything other than delaying the inevitable.

No, why would he think that? Izuku bit his tongue hard enough to taste copper, punishing himself as if he'd been insensitive enough to actually speak the words. He deserved it, he thought. He deserved it for allowing himself to get in such a state, to begin with, for being careless enough to get captured and putting a real hero in the line of fire, all the while failing to provide for the ones closest to him. He deserved it for all the time he'd made Stain waste, training and teaching him, just for him to lose most of his progress in a cell he'd only ended up in because of how impulsive he was. He never did learn how to pick a fight, did he? Even now, when surrounded by friends and with all their lives at stake, he had been unable to add anything to the situation. Anyone could have been giving Hara first aid, but Izuku was the only one that would have been unable to intimidate their enemies into submission; if anything, they would have probably used his weakened state to their advantage. He moved on to biting the inside of his cheek, noticing for once that he could feel a very clear, long scar formed after years and years of biting that same spot. He deserved that too, he told himself with a bitter chuckle. How long had it been since Izuku had realized how puny he was in comparison to those around him? Had he ever stopped noticing those things, or had he just diluted himself into believing that he stood even remotely parallel to his peers and mentor? Was he–

"Izuku!" He jumped, the weight of Stain's hand on his shoulder feeling like a ton of rocks. He looked down in a panic, grateful to notice that his hands had carried on with the compressions on their own, even keeping up the proper rhythm. Oh, thank God.

"Y-Yes?!" Izuku responded loudly, wincing at the look that Stain gave him.

"...You're breathing too fast." Stain was using this calm, almost gentle tone of voice that made Izuku bite his tongue once more.

"I'm sorry, I'm… I'm fine."

"I can take over if you–"

"I'm fine!" Izuku yelled, hating the way his voice wavered and hitched. He bitterly shoved his shoulder away from his mentor's touch, the action sending a wave of acid through his stomach and skin. Stain's red eyes just looked at him, tiny dots almost entirely lost behind his mask that Izuku wanted to both ignore and understand, before moving his hand away slowly. As if moving any faster would finally connect the little fractures spread across Izuku's body and spirit, causing him to crumble.

Maybe he already had.

He was on his fifteenth set of compressions when finally—fucking finally—steps started to echo down the hall in their direction.

"I'm glad to see you return victorious, Hero Killer. It seems I was correct in contacting you for this venture."

Spoke a man with a velvety, monotone voice. He wore a golden and red, pointed mask that clashed horribly with the deep purple and green of his jacket, a pair of smart yellow eyes immediately landing on Izuku's kneeling form. Behind the man was a small group of people with dully colored clothes and similarly pointed masks that hid away any type of recognizable feature.

"Your men abandoned your package to die," Dabi drawled in his usual aloof, snake-like fashion, kicking Hara's foot as if the man was nothing but trash.

"Yes, I have been made aware of the current situation." The man tilted his head to the side as he walked, examining Hara's inert form with a hint of exasperation.

"Where's my collateral?" Stain asked tersely.

"Show some damn respect!" A small man at the front of the pack barked. It had been a while since Izuku had seen someone speak to the Hero Killer in such a manner and, had he not been preoccupied with keeping Hara's blood circulating, he might have worried for said man's life.

"It's fine, Mimic," The leader said calmly, eyes narrowing at Stain with the obvious confidence of a seasoned criminal. "They're both fine, waiting for you in the room I gave them. They'll be called over as soon as our deal is finalized."

The man walked past his mentor, even turning his back on the Hero Killer as if he posed no threat, before crouching down in front of Izuku. He watched his subordinate, a man on the brink of death, with the same hollow expression that one gives a piece of roadkill too beat up to even identify properly, and Izuku's jaw tightened. He couldn't forget Hara's rants, the fears he'd shared about his boss harming his brothers if he let out even a shred of information about his work, and he knew both by context and instinct that the man frowning in disgust at Hara's filthy state, was the very man Hara had been so afraid of.

"Let go of him," The man eventually instructed, giving Izuku a dead look as he removed one of his pristine white gloves.

"He doesn't have a pulse yet. He needs the comp–"

"Back off, kid!" The man that had insulted Stain spoke up, his eyes entirely hidden in the darkness of his mask. "We'll take care of it."

Izuku hesitated for a moment, the most basic part of his brain telling him that these people couldn't be trusted and that his friend needed protecting now that he was so vulnerable, but Stain gave him a tense nod and he moved back after a few seconds. He watched in distrust as the man examined his friend's chest in search of something unknown, confused as to why exactly a mob boss would take over giving CPR when he had a whole posse of people that could easily take over the task in his stead. After a moment of consideration, a moment that was not being used to keep Hara stable and alive, the man settled on a spot of Hara's shirt that still showed some of the fabric's original color, right on the side, and touched it with his bare hand. At the exact moment of contact, as if a couple of unrelated frames had been snuck into a film reel, Hara's body disappeared from the waist up. There was suddenly an explosion of blood painting the floor and the wall, even the ceiling, where Hara's torso used to be and the image was so striking, so abrupt and chaotic and gory, that Izuku didn't know when Hara's form returned to normal. He could understand nothing past the ringing in his ears, the right one louder than the other, and the entire universe was reduced to that spot on the floor where the carnage had just been a fraction of a second earlier. His hands started frantically tapping the floor by his side subconsciously.

"Take him to the infirmary." The man said, his voice strained as he rubbed his bare hand

furiously; there was a small rash that hadn't been there before. Or had it? Izuku's mind didn't even register its own question as the man turned towards him and his mentor. "We should talk business."