Izuku felt heavy, his body refusing to comply with any attempt at proper movement or self-preservation. The most he could do was open his eyes, the walls of his cell stretching up into a ceiling that was so far that it couldn't be seen. The shadow in the corner watched him, the darkness distorting its nonexistent face and its body shifting ever so slightly. It reminded Izuku of soot for some reason and he wondered if his hand would come back blackened if he managed to touch the shadow. Said being apparently thought something similar, as it leaned down and reached out curiously, placing a hand on Izuku's chest. The teen blinked, feeling the pressure but not seeing the result of the contact. The shadow hummed a deep and unsettling rumble that sounded as organic as a car crash and placed its hand on Izuku's neck next. He looked at where the thing's eyes should've been but only found pits of darkness, the mask around them shifting with every beat of Izuku's heart. A second hand covered Izuku's mouth and turned the air he breathed into hot steam. Izuku's eyes closed on instinct.
"Such potential to learn and adapt," Re-Destro said softly, lifting Izuku only by his shirt. "Wha…?" Izuku's hair got ruffled by the wind, eyes watering.
"All wasted in you." The man sighed, clicking his tongue like a disappointed parent. The hold loosened.
"N-no, wait!" Izuku begged. "Wait, I can–!"
Pristine, gloved hands released their hold and Izuku plummeted down.
Izuku awoke with every muscle locked in place, skin cold and eyes bulging. He could still hear the cracking of his bones as he bounced off the concrete and for a moment he couldn't even breathe. He'd covered himself entirely in his covers and now the darkness threatened to trick him into thinking he was still in his cell, only the softness of the mattress below him keeping him grounded.
Ok, breathe, he told himself, willing his constricted ribcage to slowly allow some air into his lungs. He remembered Stain helping him recover from other nightmares, the usually comforting memory tasting bitter now. He debated just staying like that forever, regardless of how horrid it felt to be inhaling nothing but warm air through his mouth, but then someone knocked on the door again. He waited with held breath for a moment, hoping that maybe Dabi would just curse the visitor away, but nothing around him audibly moved. The next set of knocks was not as gentle as before and he pushed the covers aside with a small huff. He was a little surprised when he found himself entirely alone, every bed empty and illuminated only by the lights inside the bathroom. It was unusually somber, and he walked towards the door with a shiver. He opened it only a crack.
"...Yes?"
"Yo," Hara nodded, giving Izuku a look. "You look like you had a peaceful sleep."
Izuku leaned further behind the door, feebly attempting to tame his hair and hide his embarrassed flush.
"I… What do you need?"
"Geez, glad to see you too."
"N-n-no, that's not…"
"Relax," The young man said, leaning against the door frame and giving the dark room behind Izuku a lazy look. "I was asked to check in on you."
"Check in… on me?" Izuku echoed like an idiot, the heaviness of his eyelids drastically contrasting the pounding of his heart.
"Yeah. Your buddies are with the doc but they're gonna be there long and, since I was already on my way out and Morse recognized me, they asked me to tell you not to worry." Hara waved around a pale finger as if connecting every dot on a big board. "Though I doubt you would have noticed, being asleep and all."
"...Yeah," Was Izuku's meek response.
Hara frowned, dark brown eyes examining Izuku from head to toe in a way that made him want to shut the door even though there was very little of him visible. He felt like a small child hiding from an angry tutor but couldn't push himself to step further into the light. He just wanted to get back in bed.
"You don't look great." It was spoken with so much seriousness that it couldn't be considered an insult, but it stung like one nonetheless.
"I just woke up…"
"No, I mean… You look sick, man. Doc is worried about you, you know."
"Why?"
The man that had injected Morse had spoken and acted with nothing but gentle professionalism but Izuku couldn't remember his face, only that damned plague mask so akin to Overhual's. He felt faint.
"You missed your checkup and two meals already."
"D-did I?" Fuck. It was getting obvious even to strangers, what was he supposed to do now?
"That's what I heard him say."
"That's not…" Air got stuck in his lungs and Izuku grabbed onto the edge of the door subconsciously. "I didn't mean to. But I'm fine!"
"Uh-huh. Suuure." And here Izuku thought that only Stain was capable of such sarcasm.
"Really, I am! I'm not–"
"Save it for one of your little friends, okay?" Hara raised a brow, holding out a hand. "I'm just the messenger, man. You don't have to convince me."
Looking at it up close, with good lighting and with his mind grasping for a change in subject, Izuku could see the otherwise invisible seams in his friend's hand. The skin was smooth from palm to digit, the only little changes being in the coloration and the length of the fingers compared to the rest. He almost wanted to reach out, but he wasn't dense enough to grab the other man's hand and inspect it up close. I mean, yeah, he was dense enough to stare like an idiot, but that wasn't the point. Hara followed his eyes, his face twisting with something like disdain.
"They still don't move all that well, but it's a welcomed flaw." He said softly, trying to touch every finger to his thumb only to have two of them not bend far enough. Izuku watched with honest fascination.
"It's amazing."
"Haha, yeah. The eye was honestly the biggest change; you lose so much depth when you don't have them both." Hara pulled on the skin under his reappearing eye, letting Izuku see that, while it was a tad bit lighter and with a few extra flicks of green, it was almost identical to the other one.
"How…?"
Hara smiled, watching his hand open and close rhythmically.
"...Overhaul's quirk is like none other."
The floor beneath his feet tilted to the left, a violent shiver going up every vertebra of his spine.
"He tore you apart." Izuku exhaled shakily, looking at his friend for confirmation because perhaps the memory was too gruesome to be true. One could hope, right?
"It does look horrible, doesn't it? I almost puked the first time I saw it." Hara chuckled, grimacing before smiling. "But it's quick enough to not feel it and it can fix pretty much anything wrong with you."
Obviously, Izuku thought, looking at Hara's complete hands and intact face. Sure, the minor details were a bit off, but you could only really notice that if you knew what to look for. It was a shame that such a wonderful quirk came with such a distasteful display, considering how many uses it could have; maybe it wasn't limited to people. Small machines and huge constructions alike could benefit enormously from a power capable of taking materials and arranging them in the exact place and form needed. It wasn't just the practical applications either, but the fighting potential as well. Terrain that shifts beneath you at the touch of a hand? It would be almost impossible to combat such a thing.
Hara watched as Izuku mumbled, the light in his eyes shifting into something deep and bizarre.
"You know, he could even fix you up."
Izuku blinked, a small frown pulling his eyebrows. He looked at Hara for a moment, unsure of what he'd heard.
"...What?"
"Well, yeah. And it doesn't have to be just what happened in Deika." Izuku touched his nose subconsciously and whatever Hara had been thinking of was shaken off, a shrug masking his emotions. "It can be scars, old fractures, your hand."
Izuku looked at the metal splint on his hand, remembering the cracking noise that he'd heard as Re-Destro easily snapped his fingers.
"I… I don't…"
"And it won't look as gruesome as mine, trust me. You don't need your heart restarted, or even the spare parts, now that I think about it. It'd be touch and go."
Izuku blinked, his breath hitching.
"We have a lot of things here that can help, you know?"
No, wait, go back.
"I don't know, man, just think abou–"
"What do you mean 'spare parts?'" Izuku asked, his voice a tiny, high-pitched sound.
Hara blinked, looking down and flipping his right hand over. He flexed his once-missing ring finger with great consideration, looking at it as one would an old relic.
"You can't make something out of nothing, so when something's missing you need a replacement."
"Whe…" Izuku's voice flickered like candlelight, his eyes wide. "Where would you even…?"
"People in the yakuza die regularly." Another emotionless shrug. "Goners don't miss much."
.
Oh.
Izuku backed away, feeling the entire room spin around him like a box tumbling down a hill. A string of mumbled words escaped his lips as he attempted to find his bearings, and his hands automatically started to shut the door closed.
"Oi, you okay?" Hara asked, stopping the door with his foot.
"Y-yeah. I'm… I just, I need to…" His voice was wheezy, a cold sweat forming all over his body. "A shower."
"I'll walk you to the doc's office if you want. Or I can take you–"
"I already saw the doctor today." It wasn't a lie, all things considered, but Hara's frown just deepened at the grave tone.
"You sure? You're pale."
"I'm fine!" He smiled, his throat constricting. He suppressed the urge to run, lowering his voice to hide the shakiness. "I think I'm gonna take a shower and another nap."
Hara gave him a once over, Izuku praying to every existing God for even a sliver of mercy and almost passing out with relief when the other man gave him a nod.
"'Kay. I'll tell your friends that you're good."
"Yeah. Yeah, thanks."
He didn't wait for Hara to leave, instead waiting for the shadows of his feet to move away from the door after he quietly shut it. After a few seconds, they did and he let out a shaky sigh, resting his forehead against the wood. He felt as if he was gonna pass out, his skin burning under the cold sweat forming all over his body, and he stumbled his way into the bathroom to wash his face and shut the light with the full intent of going to sleep afterward.
When he got there, however, he froze.
In the mirror was his broken reflection, skin looking paler than ever because of the darkness behind him. Round green eyes stared at him in shock, the outlines of a once boyish face now sharp and gaunt, and skin peppered his markings. His nose looked bent from the front, the image only twisting further when he turned his face. He stared at himself for a long time, thinking of how he'd gotten every single marking throughout the last sixteen months; the discoloring by his left ear had been from Kaachan back in Hosu, the bite mark on his left shoulder had been Toga, and the cut along his throat had come by his own hand. His nose had been broken in Hosu and Deika, and the ridges on his stomach and torso were proof of the hell that had engulfed him in the first. Everything mixed into the stranger staring back at him with green eyes, because only someone alien, someone other than Stain's loyal apprentice would think 'maybe I do need fixing.'
He closed the door to the bathroom just in case someone came back, noticing that he could, if he wanted, turn the deadbolt and lock himself in there. His hands twitched, intrusive thoughts hurting his head as he slid down onto the floor like a puppet without strings. He imagined the ticking of a clock as minutes passed him by, emotions swirling and emerging like bubbles on thick oil. Shame enveloped him like a weighted blanket, his fear governing him seemingly at random moments and forcing him to shut down. No, he couldn't kid himself even in his current state; it wasn't random. Reality had just started to piece itself back together, he dared to believe that his escape had indeed happened, only for the ground to tilt to the side forcefully, like a pinball machine. Everything and everyone seemed like a threat, like a deal with the devil with multiple layers of hidden agendas, and now even his friends sounded dangerous. Everything was a temptation for the worse. He'd become fragile like glass, unfit for the life he'd chosen and sought to live.
For the first time in days, his eyes stung and watered, and Izuku tangled his fingers in his hair, pulling harshly. He thought of Hara's eyes, almost a perfect mirror, and a small sob escaped him, tears blurring his vision before another cry shook his body. He had no one to talk to about any of it, not that he even knew what he'd say. Would anyone even understand him? Would anyone care? At that moment he didn't even know if he'd be able to talk to his mentor. The man was so closed off as it was and their last fight had felt so… Well, he didn't have a word for it yet, but the mental image that came to mind was that of the silent destruction left in a typhoon's wake. He'd never seen his mentor like that, and not knowing what exactly had triggered him made him feel cracks forming under his feet. Or, maybe, the ice started to shatter because Izuku knew that he had caused it—him and his new, abhorrent behavior—and he wasn't sure that he wouldn't do it again.
He was full-on weeping at that point, the fact that he couldn't trust himself to function destroying whatever was left of his self-esteem. The most useful he'd been in the past few weeks had been when he spoke while tied to a chair, the mental image making him pull out a small lock of hair, the fried, discolored ends contrasted by the new hair already growing in. What had even been the point of him getting rescued? His friends got hurt and his mentor got into a deal with the devil, all to rescue a kid that couldn't even keep track of where he was or what was happening around him. He broke and fumbled at the smallest things now, all of his training was gone, and he was good for nothing, nothing, nothing–
He hastily rushed for the toilet, his brutal cries giving way to violent vomiting. Every gag made him hate himself all that more, but his mind mercifully started focusing on the fact that he couldn't breathe and Izuku gladly took the physical discomfort over the mental torment, if only for a moment. Izuku heaved, the final effort mixing with a scream, and then he let his head rest on his arm numbly. Exhausted and empty in every sense of the word, Izuku lay there for what might have been an eternity, allowing his brain to buzz with nothingness. At this point in their sessions, Curious would always give him a gentle smile and a pat on the head, words of praise befalling him to the same result as bandages on a person cut in half. But it was always welcome, her colorful silhouette the only thing breaking the eternal white surrounding him.
Izuku shot back in a panic, his eyes regaining focus after getting lost in the white eternity of the floor tiles. He couldn't be alone. Not like this. He battled against the sudden survival instinct telling him to stay put, fearing that his mind would sink into the abyss if he didn't do something quickly, and eventually shooting to his knees and throwing himself against the door. He tumbled into the empty room and whimpered, the tons of rock above his head threatening to break through the ceiling and bury him alive if he didn't move faster. He all but ran out of the room, the fact that he didn't know the way to anything not important at the time. He needed someone, something, please anythi–
He crashed into something small, a pointed edge digging into his hip before he hit the ground. That's weird, he didn't remember any furniture in the hall outside their room; then again, he kept forgetting things due to his unreliable mind lately. He looked down in confusion, expecting to see anything other than the pair of dark pink eyes that met his, a small pale face framed by wild white hair showing nothing but fear.
"Wha…" Izuku mumbled, the arms that had moved on instinct still wrapped around her shoulders. She looked at him with scrunched eyebrows and tight lips, apparent terror making her shake from head to toe. To Izuku, her very existence was reality-defying because they were underground, in a criminal hideaway, and she couldn't be older than five, maybe six.
"Are you okay?" Izuku whispered, his throat raw from his crying.
When she just stared at him with those wide eyes, Izuku pressed a tentative hand on her hair, taking note of the horn sticking out of her head. He expected her to flinch, but she didn't.
"I'm sorry, I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked, pushing himself off his back and getting the small child on her feet, staying crouched so he could be at eye level with her. She blinked in something akin to surprise, looking at his arm as he gently tried to look for any injuries along her bandaged arms and legs. She was only wearing a white nightgown, no shoes, and he was struck by an odd sense of familiarity.
"Does anything hurt? What's your name, huh?" He spoke softly, just like he would with Morse, cursing himself when he couldn't conjure up even a tiny smile. "I'm Midoriya. What are you doing down here?"
Down the hall, still relatively far judging by the echo, the sound of voices and running footsteps reached him. The girl's eyes widened as she looked back, her small hands wrapping around Izuku's sleeve as if she was holding on for dear life. He pulled her closer immediately, his eyes scanning the endless corridor in front of him with sharp eyes.
"What's wrong? Are you in d–" She shoved him aside, his clumsy stance making him fall once again. He managed to barely catch himself, but she had run past him and turned a corner before he could do anything about it. He stayed on the ground for a moment, words still in his mouth and chest aching because of how off and surreal the whole thing had been. He considered following after her as he got up and dusted himself off, but that same ill feeling from before kept him rooted in place indecisively for a lot longer than he cared to admit. It must have been at least a few minutes, because the footsteps from before finally reached him, two men stopping by his side.
"Oi, you, did you see a little girl run by?" A man with glasses asked, too upset to even try and make the question sound less suspicious.
"What?" Izuku asked, frowning. He understood the question, but he didn't trust the newcomers.
"A kid. White hair, this tall, have you seen her?" The other man asked, looking a tad pale. Huh.
Izuku opened his mouth, about to ask why they were chasing after her, but…
"...She was running this way but turned the corner when she saw me." Izuku lied easily, nodding towards one of the mysterious bifurcations that the men had just passed. The girl had probably turned the first corner past Izuku, to the left, so he made sure to send them right. His brows furrowed in concern, his voice softening to add to the bluff. "She looked really upset, is she okay?"
One of the men just ran back to where Izuku instructed, the other only lagging enough to give Izuku a half-baked promise that they'd make sure she was okay. Izuku watched them leave with a knot in his stomach, the feeling sticking to him like cobwebs as he headed back to his room. 'I would still join the yakuza and I would still allow my boss to torture a girl no older than my own little brother.' Hara's voice, meek and distant, echoed in his brain as he cleaned the bathroom on autopilot. He didn't know if he accomplished much besides getting rid of the evidence of his meltdown, but he didn't want to think much about that, and suddenly he was sitting on the edge of his bed with dripping hair and clean clothes, no memory of his shower present. He only snapped out of his stupor when the door opened, the panic he should have felt at locking eyes with Stain buried under layers of emotional exhaustion.
"Hey," Izuku greeted blankly, numbly noticing that not even the rain dripping from his mentor's frame could wash away the fresh bloodstains on his clothes. Who else would dare go on a hunt with only one knife but the Hero Killer, right?
Stain stood by the door, eyeing Izuku as he would any other target. Izuku just looked back, his eyes reflecting sadness and regret, but no grudge. How could he? This was his family. Stain sighed, showing every intention of walking past his student but stopping at the last possible second with a frown on his face. He eyed him, eyes flashing and jaw clenching at the sight. Izuku blinked, knowing full well how bad he looked.
"Hey," Izuku repeated, offering the Hero Killer a small, empty smile.
Stain looked like he wanted to punch Izuku out of existence, so the teen lowered his eyes miserably. He settled on counting up to a thousand in his mind, half hoping that he'd switch off like a light before he got to a hundred, but only getting to thirty-four before a small black object broke into his hazy field of vision. He blinked, his hands taking the small notebook and box of pens before his brain registered what they even were. As things clicked in his mind, Stain looked away.
"It's helped you before." The man said simply, shrugging and already taking a step towards the back of the room. Izuku's hand shot out, holding Stain's wrist with a strength that the other man wasn't expecting.
His mouth opened, a tsunami of thoughts and emotions ready to spill out, but he couldn't utter a sound. He could see oh so clearly how his words would affect his mentor and could imagine the bloodbath that would ensue if a man like the Hero Killer knew of how unbelievably rotten Overhaul actually was; because imagining is one thing, but knowledge of that girl? No one, not even Izuku at his best, would be able to stop Stain on a rampage. So they would attack and then what?
We're all gonna die.
Desperation gave way to doubt, then terror, and finally a sliver of twisted, perhaps misplaced reasoning.
"A…" The first sound that left his mouth was nothing but an elongated vowel that made Stain's frown deepen, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Akaguro?"
"What?" His mentor's voice was even, perhaps even a little soft, and Izuku's mind started to race at the speed of light. He was absolutely and undeniably insane if he thought any of his ideas deserved merit, let alone actual consideration, but he…
"I want to ask you something." The teen swallowed. "A-And I want you to be honest with me."
"Have I ever spared you from the truth before?"
Had he not been spiraling to such a degree, he might have laughed.
"Do you trust me?"
"...What?"
"Do you trust me? Like, if I–"
"Is this about earlier?" Stain sounded bitter and oddly tense—which was saying something, considering his usual demeanor—and Izuku shook his head.
"N-No! I don't… I need to know if you…"
"Why are you doubting this now?" Stain watched him with uncharacteristically wide eyes, his hand still in Izuku's iron grasp.
"Because I'm… I'm not sure of much anymore and I need to know. What if I did something stupid? Or irrational?"
"Like always?" Stain countered, his usual malice somewhat different; perhaps not as forceful.
"...Even worse. What if I–"
"Izuku," Stain interrupted, the wrinkles around his mouth suddenly very evident. It was weird to think that this man, all sharp edges and manic expressions, was just in his early thirties. "I don't know what the hell this is about, but it's pointless of you to ask."
"But I–"
"But what? You already know the answer."
"I want to hear it." Izuku pleaded.
Stain looked exhausted already, "Why?"
"I need it," The teen forced himself to look his mentor in the eye, tears already blurring his vision. "I need you to say it. That you're in my corner no matter what."
Stain looked at Izuku, at the small, scarred hand holding onto his own as if the whole situation was a foreign concept to him. Had anyone walked in on the scene, they might have realized that the Hero Killer was not made of stone, steel, or ice, but just flesh and blood and emotions comparable to those of any other human being. It was one of the few things that still made Izuku feel human; knowing he'd connected with this paragon of a man.
"I trust you, Izuku. With everything I hold dear." The words were spoken barely above a whisper, red eyes shining resolutely. "But my support of your actions will never be a blind one. It will always depend on you."
Izuku's hand twitched, applying even more pressure onto his hold.
"Depend…? On m-me? What do you mean?"
"...On why you're doing whatever it is you're doing." Stain pinned him down with a look that had, in the past, made many a hero hesitate. "On your intentions. On your loyalty to doing the right thing."
That… was fair. Stain was a man of principles above all else, after all. Izuku swallowed thickly, tears irritating his eyes. When he looked inwards, he found nothing but doubt and confusion, all tied together with a ribbon of unworthiness. Why was he doing things? What was he even going to do? He did not know.
"I can stand behind stupid, Izuku. Impractical and impulsive, sure. But never wrong. You get that, right?"
Izuku nodded.
"Say it. It's only fair."
A hollow chuckle escaped Izuku, his hand finally letting go. Stain turned to look at him a little better, expression expectant. Water dripped down his face, the bun atop his head messy and dirty. Izuku cleared his throat.
"I know how vital your philosophy is to you, and I admire it. I'd never do anything that went against our ideals. They're my whole reason for living, the only thing that kept me sane in the dark. Everything I do, or have done, or will ever do, is to uphold them."
His eyes were tired and foggy, but he managed to look at Stain with some semblance of humanity shining through. He was exhausted and defeated and sad beyond belief, but he also wouldn't let himself go down now that he had an objective. He could let go afterward. Stain exhaled and nodded, the wrinkles by his eyes making him look ancient. The Hero Killer had always seemed older than he was, features hardened by bloodlust and skin peppered with scars and wounds. Every expression he made was severe and almost exaggerated and his skin had adapted into them, nooks and lines perfectly marked. But right now, with the fluorescent lights buzzing above them, Izuku couldn't quite remember if he'd always looked this tired.
"Then I guess I better get ready for whatever crazy thing you're about to pull."