Arch 1: 「Act 1」

Death.

What do you do when it draws near?

Do you flee from it, fight against it, or embrace it?

He drifted deeper into the cold embrace of the sea, the weight of the water is pressing heavily against him. The glimmer of light above grew fainter by the second, as it was swallowed by the darkness. His lungs burned with the desperate need for air, but he remained still, fighting the rising panic.

He could escape the sea, but even if he did, his battered and exhausted body wouldn't have hold up for long. The nearest hospital was hundreds of kilometers away, and in his current condition, the boy knew that Recovery Girl wouldn't be able to help with the condition of her Quirk.

So here he is, sinking deeper into the sea, contemplating what to do about death and maybe everything.

As he drifted deeper into the abyss, his thoughts began to go slow, lulled by the cold embrace of the water. The fight had drained him—physically, mentally, emotionally. Now, with the ocean surrounding him, death no longer felt like a distant threat to him but a quiet inevitability.

His mind wandered to the concept of death, something he had always pushed aside in his relentless pursuit of becoming a hero. The boy had faced it countless times, danced on the edge of it in battles that left him scarred and weary. But here, in the vast, uncaring sea, death felt different. It wasn't an enemy to defeat or a challenge to overcome. It was simply—there.

He wondered what it would be like—would it be painful? Peaceful? Would it just feel like giving up? The thought unsettled him up, not because he feared death itself, but because he feared leaving things unfinished. His friends, his dreams, the promises he made—they had all flashed before him, fleeting images of a life that now felt so far away.

But then another thought slowy crept in, quieter and was more insistent: Maybe this was okay.

He had given everything that he had, and now it was up to those who followed to continue the fight. With all the foundation he laid, the world would change—maybe not immediately, but change is inevitable. The seeds that he planted would grow, even if it'll take time. Progress was slow, but it was steady, and the boy could take solace in knowing that others would carry the torch forward. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day.

This is alright, Izuku reassured himself, a small, peaceful smile curving his lips as he'd sank deeper into the dark embrace of the sea. His eyes, half-lidded and heavy with exhaustion, stared ahead into the fading light. They're all strong enough. They'll find a way. The world is safe with them. He let the thought settle, bringing a sense of calm as the weight of his burdens began to lift up, even as the sea pulled him further into its depths.

Ah, this isn't good, the boy thought, feeling his own eyes grow heavier, his vision dimming as they began to close on their own. His body had felt like lead, each movement becoming slower, more difficult. I'm losing my strength — can't keep this up much longer. The realization settled in, and a flicker of fear sparked in his mind. Is this really it? Izuku could feel the last remnants of his energy slipping away, his limbs no longer responding to his will.

Even as his lungs burned, he couldn't help but to smile. It wasn't a big smile—just a small, but almost a peaceful one. His eyes slowly drifted shut as his heartbeat, once strong and steady, began to slow. Each beat grew softer, quieter, until it was barely there at all. And then, it slowly stopped. His body, now still and weightless, had began to sink deeper into the sea. It felt almost like letting go, like drifting off to sleep after a long, exhausting day. Bit by bit, he disappeared into the dark, leaving behind only a lingering sense of calm.

In the future, he was meant to die and become a legend, a name in the history books. But that's not how the story went. It didn't end the way it was supposed to be. What people did all know, though, was that a pillar of light had shot up into the clouds, rising up from the depths of the sea. It sent ripples across the water, creating waves that crashed against the shore before the light vanished. Yet, the tale of that very mysterious light would be told for a century to come. But where did the light go though?

The boy suddenly jolted up, his body was wracked with harsh, desperate coughs. He pressed his hands into the ground, trying to ground himself as water spilled from his mouth. Each breath was a sharp, burning pain in his chest. His eyes were stinging and watering, his vision a swirling blur. He continued to cough violently, his body trembling with every spasm. Wincing from the pain, he struggled to make sense of his surroundings.

As the coughing subsided, the boy lay still, struggling to steady his breath. His mind had clouded nothing but just confusion. How am I still breathing? He thought, trying to grasp the reality of his situation. He felt the cold ground beneath his hands, the rough texture grounding him in a moment. Panic mingled him with disbelief. I should be—gone. Izuku looked around, but his blurry vision made it hard to discern anything.

The thought of sinking even deeper into the sea had felt so final, and now, waking up here was both a relief and a puzzle. Something was off. As he tried to piece together what had happened, Izuku can only manage to lie there, disoriented and trying to make sense of his unexpected return.

Suddenly, a voice cut deep through the haze, sharp and urgent. "Izuku! Are you okay?"

Izuku's heart skipped a beat. It was Nana's voice—clear and filled with concern. His eyes had widened in shock. Nana? How is she here? He hadn't expected to hear her voice, especially not now. One For All was supposed to be gone, and Nana was long gone from him. His mind raced, struggling to reconcile the familiar voice with the confusion of his surroundings.

Izuku tried to sit up from the ground, his head spinning with the effort. "Nana? How—"

His voice was barely a whisper, strained and weak. He blinked through his blurred vision, trying to focus on the source of the voice, but all that the boy can see was the indistinct blur around him.

Nana's voice came through once more, filled with a mix of concern and uncertainty. "Izuku, I don't know how I'm still here. I shouldn't even be—not after the transfer—but somehow, I am. I don't understand it either, but that can wait. Right now though, I need to know if you're alright. Can you hear me? Are you hurt?"

Izuku took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself as he slowly sat up. The ground beneath him felt solid, a stark contrast to the disorienting sea he had imagined. "I'm—I'm okay, I think," he managed to say, his voice still weak but clearer now. "Just a little disoriented."

His breathing grew heavier as he tried to calm his racing heart. Gradually, the blurry shapes around him started to come into a focus. Though his vision was still a bit hazy, he could make out his surroundings more clearly. To his surprise, the boy noticed that he's still wearing his hero costume—intact and pristine. He frowned in confusion, his fingers brushing over the fabric. The costume should have been battered and torn.

Izuku looked around, trying to piece together what was happening. "Nana, can you tell me what's going on? Why is my costume intact? I don't understand."

Her voice wavered with uncertainty. "I'm honestly just as confused, Izuku. I shouldn't be here, and I got no idea on how your costume is in a good condition. The last thing that I can remember was—well, it wasn't like this."

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself up. "So, neither of us knows what's happening?"

"Unfortunately, yeah," Nana replied, her tone was tinged with frustration. "But we'll figure it out together. For now, let's focus on getting you stabilized and understanding our situation better."

He nodded, attempting to clear the confusion clouding on his mind. He took a deep breath and slowly stood up, his legs trembling slightly beneath him. Izuku winced at the soreness in his body, especially in his chest. Though his vision remained to be slightly blurry, the boy can still make out some details around him—a slide, a merry-go-round. It became clear that he was in a playground.

The sight only deepened his bewilderment. What's going on?He wondered. He had been sinking in the sea, not in some kind of a playground. This place just felt so out of place compared to the dire situation he'd remembered.

Izuku tried to take a step forward, but a sudden, searing pain shot through his head. Izuku groaned, instinctively clutching his head with his left hand as the very intense headache overwhelmed him. His knees buckled, and he fell down into the ground, with one knee digging into the dirt as he groaned from the sharp sting. Ngh!

"Izuku!" Her voice was loudly echoeing in his mind, filled with worry. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

He gritted his teeth, groaning louder as the sharp stings in his head intensified, each one more piercing than the last. Izuku struggled to form the right words through the pain. "Danger Sense. Its doing something," he managed to say, his voice strained.

But confusion quickly overtook Izuku as the realization hit. "It shouldn't be. I shouldn't have that anymore. None of this should be happening," he gasped, the pressure in his head growing unbearable. The more he tried to make sense of it, the more the pain seemed to tighten its grip on him, leaving him even more disoriented.

His breath grew shaky as the stings in his head became sharper, each pulse was sending waves of pain through his skull. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, trickling down his face as he fought to stay conscious. His vision blurred further, the world around him was spinning.

"Izuku, hang in there!" Nana's voice was filled with worry, echoing urgently in his mind. "You have got to fight back through this! Something's not right, but you can't give up now. Please, you gotta stay awake."

Her words were like a lifeline for him, but the pain was just relentless, pushing him to the brink as he struggled to hold on. His body trembled, and all he could do was focus on his uneven breaths, desperately trying to keep from being overwhelmed by the agony.

The intensity of the pain seemed to reach a crescendo, and Izuku could barely think through the haze of agony. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one punctuated by the throbbing sting in his head. While the voice from Nana was cutting through the pain, though it felt distant and muffled.

Just as Izuku thought that he might lose consciousness, the stinging sensation began to wane, leaving the boy to be panting and weak on the ground. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, and gradually the world around him started to come back into focus.

Nana's voice, was still full of concern for Izuku, and she reached him through the fog. "Izuku, are you feeling any better? The Danger Sense—how is it now?" Her worry is evident, but there was a note of cautious hope from her tone.

Izuku took another deep breath, letting the last traces of pain ebb away. Slowly, he nodded, pushing himself back to his feet with a trembling determination. His legs were steadier this time, and he wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. He slowly straightened up, his breathing was more even now, as he took a moment to gather himself.

"I think—I'm feeling a bit better," he finally said, his voice still shaky but was now more confident. His grip on his surroundings were slowly returning to normal, and while though the confusion lingered, the worst of it seemed to have passed. The subtle rise of his chest, heaving, and the steadier breaths he took spoke more than his words did.

Nana can be seen sighing with a visible deep relief, her form becoming clearer as she moved closer to him, her familiar pink smoke was swirling gently around her. The tension in her voice eased as she spoke, "I'm glad you're feeling better, but take it slow for now, okay?"

Her smoky presence was hovering beside him, radiating a comforting warmth to Izuku. "Do you think that you're strong enough to explore a little? We need to figure out where we are, but only if you're up for it." Her concern is evident, but so was her trust in his resilience.

Izuku took a moment to assess himself, feeling the last of the fog lift from his mind. "Yeah, I think I can manage a little exploration," he said, nodding to Nana. He took a careful step forward, testing his strength that's left. The playground surroundings still felt surreal, but Izuku was determined to understand what was happening.

Nana floated alongside Izuku, her pink smoke forming a reassuring aura. "Just let me know if you need to stop or if anything feels off," she said, her voice gentle but firm.

As he slowly moved forward, he noticed details that had previously escaped Izuku: the slide was brightly painted, the swing set was old but it was still slightly sturdy, and the playground that's around Izuku was surprisingly well maintained, surprisingly. Despite the calm appearance, a sense of unease lingered in the air.

The boy's eyes was drawn to a wall on the far side of the playground, covered in a patchwork of posters. Curiosity piqued, the boy moved closer, his steps was careful. As he reached the wall, he began to scan the posters, their vibrant colors and various events catching his attention.

But then, his heart quickly skipped a beat. One poster in particular stood out, and as Izuku read it, his face went pale. The poster was for a normal community event, but the date on it was May 14, 2XXX—a date from two years ago.

"What—What is this?" Nana asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

His breath began to grew shaky as he continued to stare at the poster, his mind racing to process the date. Sweat was forming on his brow, trickling down his face as he gripped the edge of the paper tighter. The weight of the realization seemed almost too much to bear.

Unbeknownst to Izuku, as his anxiety heightened, green lightning began to arc around him, crackling faintly with the activation of the Full Cowling. The electric energy is dancing all around his body, illuminating the poster and casting eerie shadows on the wall.

Nana's eyes widened at the sight of the green lightning, her shock shifting to concern. "Izuku, your Quirk—"

But his focus only remained locked on the small poster, fully oblivious to all the energy coursing around him. His breathing was uneven, each inhale and exhale coming in sharp, ragged bursts as Izuku tried to make sense of the impossible situation before him.

He continued to stare at the poster, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Two years ago. But how? How could this be possible? The date on the poster seemed to be mocking him, each second stretching into eternity as he grappled with the implications. I still remember sinking in the sea. I shouldn't be here. This—This must be a mistake.

The young boy slowly furrowed his brow, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. Could it be that I'm dreaming? No, it feels too real. The pain, the exhaustion—everything was so vivid. His eyes scanned the details of the poster again, searching for something, anything, that explain the discrepancy.

If this isn't a dream, then what? Did I somehow travel back in time? The thought about it was almost too incredible to entertain, yet the very evidence of it seemed to point in that direction. But why? And how did I end up here? His heart raced as he tried to reconcile his current situation with what he remembered.

Nana's worried voice soon reached Izuku faintly through his mental haze. I'll need to figure this out, but first, I need to stay calm. Izuku took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he continued to ponder the impossible. There has to be a reason for all this. I need to understand what's happening before I can do anything that can make things worse.

Izuku took a deep breath, focusing on calming himself. The green lightning around him quickly fizzled out as he consciously deactivated Full Cowling. He sighed deeply, the weight of the situation still pressing on him but now slightly more manageable.

He moved over to a nearby bench, his movements slow and deliberate as the boy sat down heavily. With a weary hand, he rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the tension that had built up. His small sighs were heavy, each one a release of the anxiety that had gripped him.

Nana floated closer, her presence warm and reassuring as she hovered beside him. With a gentle touch, she began to rub his back, her hand moving in slow, comforting circles. "It's alright, kid," she whispered, her voice soft and steady. "We'll get through this together. Just take it one step at a time, no rush. You're not alone in this."

The boy nodded, appreciating the comforting presence. The gentle pressure of her hand on his back was a small but welcome relief. Izuku closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his thoughts and regain his composure.

Izuku kept his gaze fixed on the ground, his head bowed and his face cast in shadow. His fingers had gripped his knees tightly, knuckles was turning white as he tried to steady his thoughts. "If this is real," he began, his voice low and contemplative, "and I've been sent back in time. Then this should be the period when I was still training at Dagobah Beach."

He continued, the words coming slowly, weighed down by the gravity of the situation. "This should be before I received One for All, back when I was working on my body with All Might. That's the only timeline that makes sense if I'm truly here."

He didn't look up, his thoughts running in circles as he tried on piecing together the implications. "That means that everything I've did, everything I've fought for, it still hasn't happened yet." His grip on the edge of the bench tightened as he processed the enormity of the situation. The life he'd known, the battles he'd fought — they were now just possibilities, not yet written in history.

Izuku sighed deeply, the sound carrying the weight of his overwhelming thoughts. Slowly, he raised his left hand and covered his face, trying to block out the spiral of anxiety threatening to consume him. His mind raced with all the possibilities, the endless scenarios of what could go wrong—or right.

"Nana," he began, his voice muffled by his hand, "what should I do?" He paused, the question hanging in the air as he struggled to find clarity. "I know the future. I know what's going to happen. But if I try to change things up, I could mess it all up, maybe even make it worse."

His hand slowly dropped to his lap, and he finally looked up, though his gaze remained to be distant, fixed on the empty playground before him. "But then I also can't just stand still and do nothing about it, Nana. If there's even a chance to make things better, to help. Then how could I possibly ignore that?" His voice wavered, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him from all sides.

Nana stared at Izuku for a few moments, her expression thoughtful as she absorbed everything he had just said. The concern in her eyes softened as a small, reassuring smile spread across her face. She floated a little closer, her gaze steady and full of warmth.

"You're in a unique situation, Izuku," she said gently, her voice warm and understanding. "Not many people have the knowledge of the whole future that you do, and that puts you in a position no one else could be in." Her smile was growing a little, and there was a hint of pride within her purple eyes. "It's a heavy burden, but it's also a rare opportunity."

She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. "I know that it'll feel overwhelming for you, and the fear of making things worse is real. You have the right to be overwhelmed. But you'll also have the chance to guide things in a better direction, to make choices that could prevent the suffering you've witnessed. It won't be easy, and there's no perfect path for this. But remember, you don't have to do it alone."

Izuku's resolve deepened as Nana's words echoed in his mind. He took a steadying breath, his face transforming from doubt to unwavering determination. "I understand that I'm not alone in this," he said, his voice firm despite the emotional turmoil he felt. "But I can't just wait for others to act. People are in pain right now, and it's not right for me to sit idle. I need to do something to help them."

His fists clenched tightly at his sides as he spoke, his voice charged with emotion. "There's a child out there enduring unimaginable suffering because of her ability to rewind time. She's being used as a test subject, treated like a mere object, and left to face her pain in isolation. She's just a child, Nana. No one is there to offer her a comforting touch or a reassuring word."

Izuku's eyes blazed with unwavering resolve as he locked eyes with Nana. "I can't just stand by," he said firmly. "I have to go to her. This young girl, Eri, deserves so much more than the bleak future I know is coming for her. She deserves a chance to live her life fully, not as a mere test subject, but as a child with dreams and a future. It's my responsibility to fight for that chance and ensure she can have the life she truly deserves."

Nana began sighing softly, the sound filled with a mix of understanding and concern. She lowered her head, her gaze was drifting to the ground as she absorbed Izuku's words. The weight of his determination, the pain in his voice—it was all resonating deeply within her. And for a moment, Nana remained silent, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves in the nearby trees.

...

"Alright," she said softly, her voice steady. "If this is what you need to do, then know that you have all my support. Just remember, you don't have to face this alone. There are others who will stand by you, and even though you're doing this on your own for now, you're not truly alone."

She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. "And make sure that you'll also take care of yourself while you're at it too, y'hear me? There's only so much that you can do on your own, Izuku, you know that enough. And when the time comes, we'll find a way to deal with everything together."

Nana's small grin grew as she looked at Izuku, her eyes were reflecting a mix of pride and encouragement. "So run, Izuku, run," she said, her voice filled with conviction.

Izuku nodded firmly, the weight of her words spurring him into action. In an instant, green lightning crackled around him, the energy dancing and shimmering with intensity. The lightning flared brightly, enveloping him in a radiant burst of light. Without another word, the young boy had vanished from the playground, with the flash of green lightning marking his swift departure.

TO BE CONTINUED