Yo!
Welcome back to this fic and its eighth chapter, which also happens to be the final chapter of the first arc: Izuku Midoriya's Origins.
This is the last chapter where we'll see Izuku as a wee thirteen-year-old lad. So, expect a slight time skip in the next chapter.
Have you noticed that each chapter has more words than the last? At this rate, I'll be writing 30,000 to 40,000-word chapters by the time we reach chapter thirty (I hope not).
I'd love to hear your thoughts on the first arc of the fic. Did you like it? Was there something you felt was missing? What was your favorite chapter or moment from the first arc? I'll be eagerly awaiting your reviews.
Now I'll respond to the reviews from the previous chapter.
Ryustin: Thanks for the review, dude. Don't worry, Katsuki isn't dead. As for Toga, from what I understand, her descent into villainy happened after she graduated, which, based on the timeline of this fic, would have already occurred. Maybe she'll make an appearance before U.A., but I haven't decided yet.
Iron-Slayer-Dragon: Thanks for the review, and I hope you're still enjoying the fic.
PidgeonKing: Hey, dude. Nice to read you again. Believe me, I get it—Katsuki was allowed to get away with a lot for years. Things that, if done by anyone else, would've been enough to label them a villain. But that's exactly the point Horikoshi wanted to make about the decay of society in MHA. I completely agree that Izuku should have gone to therapy or at least had regular sessions with Hound Dog, considering he's U.A's psychologist. Regarding Katsuki's "redemption," there never really was one because, throughout the series, his actions were never seen as wrong, even though he couldn't get away with them anymore at U.A.
So, there you have it! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and if you do, please leave a review and blah blah blah.
See you at the end!
Disclaimer: You already know this; MHA is owned by Kohei Horikoshi. The Force and everything related to Star Wars are the intellectual property of George Lucas and the evil multi-billion-dollar company with the capital D.
The only thing that is mine is the computer from which this is written. Yay!
Underlined and italicized text = thoughts and/or internal dialogues.
Underlined, italicized, and bold text = Force ghosts dialogues.
Italicized and bold text = The Force dialogues.
Bold Text = Powerful characters dialogues (Like All-Might).
"Without darkness there cannot be light."
Chapter VIII: Duality.
Izuku sprinted away from the schoolyard, his heart pounding like a relentless drumbeat in his chest. Each step echoed his guilt and self-loathing. The city lights flickered faintly in the distance, casting elongated shadows that seemed to dance in rhythm with his every desperate stride. The world around him blurred into an indistinct smear, a chaotic whirl of colors and shapes driven by his instinctive urge to escape the devastation he had unleashed. His breaths came in harsh, ragged bursts, each inhalation scraping his throat like shards of glass.
The haunting images replayed in his mind with relentless repetition: the uncontrolled surge of his power, Katsuki's horrified expression, and the desperate pleas of his masters. The weight of his actions pressed down on him like an invisible, crushing burden. Tears blurred his vision, turning the world into a distorted landscape of darkness and muted streetlights. The sharp, acrid scent of garbage and decay from the alleyways he passed only deepened his sense of despair.
After what felt like hours of running, he stumbled upon a narrow alleyway—a dark, confined space that seemed to offer both sanctuary and imprisonment. The alley's oppressive darkness enveloped him as he staggered inside, nearly collapsing against the cold, rough brick wall. The scattered grime and trash on the ground mirrored his sense of desolation.
Izuku slid down the wall, his legs trembling beneath him until he was seated on the grimy pavement. He pulled his knees close to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as if trying to shield himself from the overwhelming weight of his guilt. His tears flowed freely now, mixing with the dirt on his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands, his fingers digging into his skin as if trying to stave off the flood of emotions threatening to drown him. His sobs came in harsh, broken gasps, punctuated by occasional, breathless cries of remorse.
Izuku paused for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He leaned against the cool brick wall, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingers. The distant sounds of the city provided a strange, momentary comfort, grounding him in the present before the storm of emotions took over again.
"I'm a monster," he choked out, his voice cracking with despair. "How could I…? I almost killed Kacchan. I'm no better than… I'm a villain." His words were muffled by his hands, but the raw anguish was evident in every syllable. He felt as though he had betrayed every aspiration, every dream he had once held close—each shattered beyond repair.
Unseen by him, a soft, shimmering light began to blend around him. The Force, sensing his profound turmoil and the intent behind his emotions—his desperate wish to protect rather than harm—enveloped him in a cocoon of luminous energy. The Force ghosts, sensing his pain and distress, tried to reach out to him, but this protective barrier of light formed an insurmountable divide. They felt his suffering and fear but could not bridge the chasm created by it.
Izuku's body shook violently with the force of his tears and sorrow. His hands gripped his hair tightly, fingers tangled in the strands as if trying to pull out the pain, convinced he was unworthy of any support or redemption. His muscles ached from the strain of running and the immense weight of his emotions.
Time seemed to slip away, and eventually, his sobs dwindled into quiet, shuddering breaths. He remained huddled in the darkness, feeling utterly alone. The night around him was eerily silent, broken only by his ragged breathing and the occasional drip of water from a leaky pipe.
The world outside continued on, oblivious to his suffering, while he remained a solitary figure in the dim alley, struggling to find solace amidst his anguish.
- THE FORCE AWAKENS –
Hitoshi Shinso felt an inexplicable pull drawing him toward a narrow alleyway as he made his way home from the store. The city's vibrant colors and bustling noise seemed to fade, replaced by a growing sense of urgency that quickened his steps. His heart beat with a strange meaning, each streetlight casting brief glimmers that only added to his mounting concern. It was as if an unseen hand was guiding him to that exact spot.
As he approached the alley, the world narrowed to a single point of focus. The usual hum of the city seemed distant, replaced by an oppressive silence that pressed against his ears. The alley was cloaked in darkness, its grimy walls and scattered trash starkly contrasting with the warm, almost magical glow emanating from within. The blinking streetlights outside cast long, dancing shadows that played against the walls, creating an eerie, shifting dance of light and dark.
When Hitoshi finally reached the alley, his breath caught in his throat. There, hunched against the wall, was Izuku Midoriya, enveloped in a soft, ethereal light. The green haired pre-teen's figure was barely visible through the haze of tears and the glowing aura, creating an almost surreal image. Hitoshi's heart clenched at the sight of his friend so vulnerable and distressed. A wave of empathy washed over him; he could feel the weight of Izuku's turmoil almost physically, tightening around his chest.
Without hesitation, the brainwasher moved closer, his footsteps cautious but determined. He saw the trash on the ground that spoke of neglect, but his focus remained on his green haired friend.
Hitoshi paused a few feet away, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves before approaching further. He allowed himself a moment to observe Izuku's distress, letting the sight sink in before intervening.
"Midoriya?" His voice was gentle but carried an undertone of concern. trembling slightly with the worry he felt. "Hey, what happened? Are you okay?"
Izuku flinched at the sound of Hitoshi's voice, his body tensing as if bracing for impact. He looked up slowly, his tear-streaked face illuminated by the eerie glow, and his eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and shame. "S-Shinso, y-you shouldn't be here," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I-I might hurt you."
Seeing the raw distress in his friend's eyes, the purple haired pre-teen's frustration flared, mingled with a deep concern that pierced through his usual calm demeanor. He knelt beside the padawan, ignoring the damp and grime beneath him.
"I'm not going anywhere," he declared, his tone resolute. "You're my friend, and I'm here to help you, no matter what."
The green haired shook his head vigorously, the light around him flickering with his agitation. "N-No, you don't understand. I-I almost killed Kacchan. I lost control, and the power just... it consumed me. I'm dangerous. I'm a monster."
Hitoshi's concern deepened, mixed with an urgent frustration. He could see Izuku spiraling deeper into self-loathing, and it pained him to see his friend like this. "Listen, Midoriya," he said, his voice softening as he tried to reach the core of Izuku's anguish. "You're not a monster. You're a person who's made a mistake. Even heroes lose control sometimes. Look at Endeavor. He's a top hero, but he's had moments where he's lost control. It doesn't make him a villain."
Izuku's shoulders shook with silent sobs, his breath coming in uneven, ragged bursts. "Y-you don't know what it's like," he said, his voice trembling. "The fear, the guilt... it's overwhelming. I can't handle it."
Hitoshi's frustration grew, fueled by his deep concern and a sense of betrayal. He remembered their first interaction when Izuku had spoken about not judging others for their quirks and how even the most misunderstood powers could be used for good. Now, seeing his friend dismiss his own advice, his's patience snapped.
"Midoriya," he said, his voice edged with disbelief., "was everything you told me about your dreams and your determination a lie?"
The green haired pre-teen's eyes widened with confusion and pain, his earlier sobs subsiding as he absorbed the brainwasher's words. "B-but I…"
The brainwasher cut him off, His voice growing sharper slicing through the gloom with a new edge. "Tell me, Midoriya? Was everything a lie?! Are you really that much of a hypocrite?! You told me that a quirk wasn't inherently evil, that it's how you use it that matters. And now you're here, drowning in guilt and self-loathing because you lost control for a moment?"
Izuku's eyes widened in shock, his previous sobs fading into stunned silence. "I… I didn't mean to—"
Hitoshi's voice grew firmer, a sense of urgency threading through his words. "If you truly believed in what you told me, then don't just sit here feeling sorry for yourself. Get up and do something about it. Don't let it control you now! If you believe what you said, you need to take responsibility and act. Don't drown in despair. Face this challenge and work on mastering your powers. Hiding away won't solve anything. It might just turn you into the very thing you're afraid of."
The padawan's hands trembled as he clutched his knees tighter. "But the guilt… the fear of what I could do…"
Hitoshi's tone softened but remained resolute. "Guilt and fear are tough, but isolating yourself won't help. You need to confront these feelings and strive to control your abilities. It's about taking action, not succumbing to the dark thoughts. You're not a monster; you're someone who's seeking to make things right. Monsters don't seek redemption nor question their actions, but you do."
Izuku's mind raced and the weight of his mistakes. His friend's words began to dissolve the fog of his despair, offering a glimpse of light where there had only been darkness.
"Thank you, Shinso," he whispered, his voice filled with a fragile sense of hope. "Thank you for not giving up on me."
The brainwasher's expression softened into a warm, encouraging smile, though his eyes still held a trace of frustration. "That's what friends are for, idiot. But you need to do your part too. I can't fight this battle for you."
Izuku nodded, his expression reflecting a mix of gratitude and lingering remorse. "You should go home now. I'll be okay. I promise."
The purple haired pre-teen's eyes narrowed slightly, skepticism evident in his gaze. "Is that really how it's going to be? You expect me to just walk away after what I've seen? You're telling me you'll be okay, but everything about you right now screams otherwise."
Izuku shifted uncomfortably, his hands still clutching his knees. "I'm just… I need some time alone to sort things out. I can't keep dragging everyone into my mess."
Hitoshi shook his head, annoyance in his voice. "You're not dragging anyone down by accepting help. Everything I said wasn't to push you away or doubt you. I'm saying it because I believe in what you're capable of. But you have to believe in it too. You've got to take this chance to show that you're more than your mistakes."
Izuku looked up, meeting Hitoshi's gaze with weariness. "I understand what you're saying. I really do. And I appreciate it more than you know. I just need to prove to myself that I can handle this. I don't want to let anyone down."
His friend's expression softened, as he observed the padawan's struggle, though his skepticism remained. He opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden, inexplicable feeling of calm washed over him. He felt a deep sense of reassurance, almost as if everything would turn out okay.
The brainwasher hesitated. "I want to believe that… I really do. But something just tells me you'll be alright. Even though I don't fully understand why, I have this feeling that you'll find your way."
His voice wavered slightly, betraying his own uncertainty but underscoring his sincerity. He looked at his friend with a final, earnest gaze. "No matter what happens, remember this: we're friends. I'll always be here for you. No matter how tough things get, you're not alone."
Izuku nodded, a faint, grateful smile breaking through his pain. "Thank you, Shinso. I can't tell you how much that means to me. I promise I'll work through this. I'll be okay."
Hitoshi gave a small, reassuring smile and turned to leave, his steps echoing softly in the quiet alley. The streetlamps flickered as he walked away, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch into the night. As he walked away, he glanced back one last time, feeling a deep sense of relief.
Izuku watched the brainwasher disappear around the corner. The weight of his guilt still pressed heavily on his shoulders, but Hitoshi's words had sparked a glimmer of hope within him.
With a deep, steadying breath, Izuku stood up, feeling the cool night air against his face. He took a final, reflective glance at the alley, noting the way the dim light played on the uneven ground, before walking away.
- THE FORCE AWAKENS –
The night was thick with the scent of the sea as Izuku Midoriya wandered along the grim expanse of Takoba Beach. The stars above shone with a distant, ethereal light, casting a faint glow that shimmered on the restless waves. The beach, strewn with debris, seemed to stretch endlessly into the darkness, its remnants of past neglect a stark reflection of his inner turmoil.
Each step he took felt heavy, the ground beneath him uneven and treacherous. The remnants of discarded items and rusty metal crunched underfoot, echoing his sense of being lost. The weight of his guilt, compounded by Hitoshi's words, seemed almost palpable, pressing down on him with every step.
He found a secluded spot behind a heap of scrap metal, partially shielded from the distant city lights and prying eyes. There, he sank down onto the cold, uneven ground, his stained jacket, offering little comfort against the biting chill of the night air. The jacket, once a symbol of warmth and security, now felt like a mere scrap of fabric, barely adequate against the cold that seemed to seep into his bones.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, his body and mind both worn from the day's emotional catastrophe. As he lay down, trying to find a measure of rest amidst the wreckage, the night stretched on, unyielding and cold. The distant sound of waves crashing against the shore added to his sense of isolation, while a chilly wind whispered through the debris, enhancing the desolate atmosphere. His sleep was fitful and troubled, his dreams a chaotic reflection of the turmoil that had driven him to this desolate place.
In the depths of his troubled slumber, Izuku found himself transported to a surreal realm, a place where shifting lights and shadows played across an ever-changing landscape. The oppressive darkness of the beach was replaced by a swirling, luminous void, filled with an ethereal glow and deep, mysterious shadows. At the heart of this strange world stood a cloaked figure, its form bathed in a gentle, encompassing light that contrasted sharply with the surrounding darkness.
Confused and frightened, Izuku tried to move away from the figure, but an invisible force held him in place. "Where am I? What is this?" he stammered, his voice echoing strangely in the surreal environment.
The figure's voice, calm and soothing, resonated with a profound sense of authority. "You have been brought here to understand. Your actions had led you to this moment."
Izuku struggled against the pull of the realm, his attempts to escape only drawing him closer to the figure. "I don't want to be here," he said, his voice trembling with anxiety. "I don't understand what's happening."
The Force figure spoke with a gentle, yet firm tone. "I am the Force, a singular entity embodying both light and darkness. I am not merely a guide but a unity that encompasses both the potential for great good and profound evil."
The dreamscape shifted, revealing a series of vivid, hauntingly beautiful visions that unfolded around Izuku. Each vision was a fragment of a grand, intricate tapestry depicting the Force's impact on various worlds and lives.
He saw a serene garden filled with lush greenery and ancient temples. The atmosphere was calm, the air scented with blooming flowers as Jedi in simple robes moved gracefully among the gardens, their actions smooth and deliberate. The scene exuded a sense of peace and order, with soft golden light illuminating the surroundings. Yet, beyond this tranquility, dark storm clouds began to gather on the horizon, a faint hint of impending conflict.
Izuku's eyes widened as he took in the beauty and calm of the garden. The contrast between the serenity and the impending storm unsettled him. "Is this a place of peace?" he wondered aloud. "But why is there darkness on the horizon?"
"This was the Garden of the Jedi from the era of the Old Republic. A place where the Jedi sought to balance the light and dark within themselves. However, even in such a place, shadows of conflict and darkness could not be entirely avoided. The balance is delicate, and peace is often tested."
The vision shifted to a desolate, scarred landscape, strewn with remnants of ancient, shattered structures. The air was thick with dust, and the sky was a turbulent mix of dark clouds and sporadic lightning. The remnants of past battles lay scattered, a silent testament to a fierce conflict that had left the land in ruin, which spoke of both the power and the cost of unchecked aggression.
Izuku's heart sank as he surveyed the devastation. The wreckage and destruction were overwhelming, filling him with a sense of dread. "This place..." he said, his voice trembling. "How could something so terrible happen?"
"Here, you witness the aftermath of the Sith Wars on Malachor V," the Force continued, its tone somber. "The devastation left in the wake of such a conflict was profound. The Sith's pursuit of power led to great destruction. This reflects the consequences of allowing the darkness within to dominate, leaving behind a landscape marred by violence and loss."
Izuku saw the inside of a grand, ancient hall where shadows and light clashed in a storm of movement. Figures moved through the space in a frenetic dance of energy and conflict, their forms a blur of motion and color. The hall, was now a battleground where ideologies collided violently.
He watched the chaotic battle with wide eyes, the ferocity of the conflict striking him deeply. "This was once a place of learning?" he asked in disbelief. "How could it come to this?"
"This was the Temple of Coruscant during the great conflict between the Jedi and Sith," the Force explained. "The Jedi and Sith clashed in a struggle for dominance. The once-sacred halls became a place of battle, between the forces of light and darkness. Such moments are a reminder that the struggle for balance is often fought in the heart of what should be sacred."
The final vision showed a figure wrestling with an internal storm, beginning in a place of light and hope. Gradually, the figure was consumed by darkness, their path shifting to a darker realm. But then, there was a transition to a moment of reflection and struggle. The figure fought to return to the light, their journey marked by hardship but also by a genuine effort to make amends and find redemption.
Izuku's gaze followed the figure's tumultuous journey, his own struggles reflecting in the figure's battle. "Is it possible to come back from the darkness?" he asked quietly. "Can someone truly change?"
"This is the tale of Revan," the Force's voice softened with compassion and reasurance. "A warrior who fell to darkness but sought redemption. His journey reflects the possibility of recovery and growth, even after falling into the shadows. It demonstrates that even those who have lost their way can strive to return to the light, learning and evolving from their experiences."
The visions ended as the Force´s voice continued. "The Force is not separate from these dualities. Many have struggled with their inner darkness, losing control and causing harm. Yet, they are not defined solely by their failures. Growth comes from confronting these challenges and understanding oneself."
Izuku watched in awe and trepidation. The realization that the Force itself was a blend of opposing aspects offered him a new perspective on his own internal struggles. The force's message—that it was both light and darkness—offered him a glimpse of hope amid his confusion.
As the vision faded and the ethereal realm dissolved into darkness, He felt a lingering sense of introspection. The lessons from the Force were profound, and though he was still troubled, he now carried a flicker of understanding and a renewed sense of contemplation. The cold, gritty texture of the beach beneath him, the salty tang of the sea air, and the distant sound of waves crashing added to the surreal feeling of waking from such a dream.
The green haired pre-teen slowly awoke on the grimy beach. The first light of dawn was starting to filter through the heaps of debris, casting long shadows that danced with the early morning light. The shift from the dream's vivid colors and sensations to the bleak, muted reality was jarring, yet it grounded him.
Izuku sat up, his mind still reeling from the dream's revelations. Though the insights about the Force had not provided immediate answers, they had given him something to contemplate. As he looked out at the beach, now bathed in the pale light of early morning, he found a new sense of clarity amidst the desolation.
- THE FORCE AWAKENS –
Izuku sat cross-legged surrounded by the wreckage attempting to meditate. The remnants of the night's visions still swirled in his mind. His posture was stoic, but inside, he was a tempest of conflicting emotions.
He closed his eyes, seeking clarity and peace. The weight of the previous night's revelations was heavy on his mind, like a dense fog that clung to him. The visions from the Force replayed in his thoughts, their meanings and implications swirling around him like the restless waves. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't shake the feeling of guilt and uncertainty that clung to him.
The tranquil silence of his meditation was abruptly broken as a familiar presence filled the space around him. Izuku sensed a change in the air, the subtle hum of energy indicating the arrival of someone significant. Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw Anakin Skywalker materializing before him, his spectral form emanating a gentle, reassuring glow. The sight of his master brought him a mix of relief and dread.
Izuku's heart sank. He bowed his head, unable to meet Anakin's gaze, fearing that his master was deeply disappointed. "I'm sorry," He whispered, his voice heavy with shame. "I didn't live up to your expectations."
To his astonishment, Anakin stepped closer and enveloped him in a warm, comforting embrace. The sensation was unexpected but soothing, a palpable relief that seemed to flow from Anakin himself. He felt a comforting warmth, contrasting sharply with his own turmoil, as if the last weights of his guilt were being lifted.
"Why?" Izuku's voice trembled. "After what I've done...why are you so kind to me?"
His master's voice was steady and filled with understanding that only someone who had walked a similar path could convey. "I know what it's like to fall into darkness," he said softly. "I have made my own mistakes, far greater than you can imagine. I failed to redeem myself for a long time and caused immense pain, not only to the galaxy but to those I loved most."
Anakin's eyes grew distant as he began his tale. "When I was young, I fought to protect the galaxy, but my fear and anger began to cloud my judgment. I was consumed by a sense of power and the fear of losing those I loved."
Izuku listened, his breath catching as Anakin's voice grew darker with memory. The struggle of trying to reconcile his own sense of failure with the enormity of Anakin's past was almost overwhelming. His heart ached as he imagined the young, idealistic Jedi who fell so far from grace. He could feel his master's remorse seeping into him, a heavy sadness that resonated with his own fears and regrets.
"I was manipulated by Chancellor Palpatine," His master continued, "who promised me the power to save those I cared about. I was seduced by the dark side of the Force and became Darth Vader. My fall was swift and terrible. I turned against my friends and allies, enforcing the Emperor's tyranny across the galaxy."
Anakin's voice trembled with the weight of his confession. "As Vader, I led the purge of the Jedi Order, hunting down my former comrades and friends. I became a symbol of fear and oppression. My actions led to the suffering of countless innocents. I was lost, my heart hardened by rage and regret. But even in the darkest moments, there was a glimmer of the man I once was."
Izuku's eyes widened with the gravity of his master's story. As Anakin recounted his fall from grace, Izuku felt a tumultuous storm brewing within him. Part of him recoiled in horror, grappling with the image of Anakin as Darth Vader—the enforcer of tyranny and the purger of the Jedi. The vivid descriptions of oppression and betrayal struck him like icy daggers, causing his stomach to churn and his breath to catch. He could hardly reconcile the gentle presence of his master with the dark figure of his past.
Yet, beneath that horror, another part of him stirred with deep compassion. He remembered Anakin's earlier words—his fear, his vulnerability, and the manipulative shadows of the Chancellor that had clouded his judgment. This understanding softened the harsh edges of his revulsion. The realization that his master had been twisted by external forces, that the darkness had not come from within him alone, prompted a rush of empathy. The same fear that had driven Anakin to seek power and control now mirrored Izuku's own fears of failure and inadequacy.
Izuku's heart ached as he processed this complex interplay of emotions. The horror of Anakin's past was intertwined with a deep sorrow for the man who had fallen so far yet had found his way back. It was a reminder of the fragility of the human spirit, and it ignited a flicker of hope in Izuku's chest. If someone as powerful and respected as Anakin could falter and still seek redemption, perhaps there was hope for him too.
The storm of feelings left Izuku trembling, his eyes moist with the weight of his own internal conflict. He grappled with the duality of his emotions—revolted by the acts of his master but moved by the man's sincere remorse and his struggle for redemption. The realization that Anakin had been a victim of manipulation, as well as his own choices, created a jarring but hopeful dichotomy within him.
Izuku's voice trembled as he tried to express the chaotic mix of emotions swirling inside him. "I... I'm horrified by what you did. I can hardly believe that someone I've looked up to could do such things. But I also see now how much you've suffered, and it makes me want to believe that redemption is possible... even for me."
Anakin's expression softened, a look of understanding and deep empathy reflecting in his eyes. "I blamed myself for many things," he continued. "I didn't tell you this before because I was afraid that you'd see me as a monster, that you'd reject me."
"But the truth is," he said, his voice steady and filled with a hint of nostalgia, "the one who helped me find my way back was my son, Luke. Even after all I had done, despite the darkness I had spread across the galaxy, he never gave up on me. His belief in me, his refusal to see me as just a villain, was the beacon that guided me back to the light."
Izuku listened intently, his gaze fixed on Anakin as if trying to piece together the full picture of his master's journey. "Luke saw something in you that you couldn't see in yourself," he said softly.
"Yes," Anakin replied, a small, almost wistful smile touching his lips. "He believed in the good that still existed within me, even when I was consumed by darkness. He saw me not just as Darth Vader, but as Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi I once was. It was his faith that gave me the strength to confront my own demons and seek redemption."
As Izuku absorbed Anakin's words, a realization began to dawn on him. He looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the serene presence of Luke Skywalker, who had brought him from the dark before it was too late."
"Master," Izuku began, his voice tinged with awe and curiosity, "Luke's presence... It wasn't just a chance occurrence, was it?"
Anakin's eyes met Izuku's with a mixture of pride and understanding. "No," he said softly. "He meant to guide you, just as his belief once guided me."
Izuku's mind whirred with this new understanding. Feeling a shiver run down his spine. The realization was both comforting and profound. Then the spectral figures of Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa appeared on the beach. Their forms glowed softly, a serene light that added to the ethereal atmosphere. Luke's form shimmered with a calm strength, while Leia's presence exuded a gentle but unwavering resolve. They approached Izuku with expressions of empathy and sorrow.
Luke spoke first, his voice calm and steady. "Izuku, your journey is not unlike mine and my father's. There are shadows within us all, and facing them is part of what makes us whole. I see the same potential for light in you that I once saw in my father. Your struggle is real, but it does not define you."
Leia stepped forward, her gaze warm yet firm. "Forgiveness and redemption are not just about absolving past sins; they are about choosing to move forward, to become better. I took time to forgive my father, but in doing so, I learned that even those who have made grave mistakes can still find a path back to the light."
Izuku's heart ached as he listened to their words. He could feel the weight of their experiences pressing on him, mingling with his own turmoil. He turned his gaze from the Force ghosts to Anakin, his eyes searching for reassurance. "So, if I'm facing darkness within myself, how do I find my way back? How do I hold onto hope when it feels like it's slipping away?"
Anakin's expression softened, a deep empathy reflecting in his eyes. "The path to redemption is not a straight line. It's a journey filled with challenges and moments of doubt. But it is in these moments that we must hold onto the belief that there is light within us."
Luke nodded, his gaze steady. "And it's not just about finding the light within yourself, but also accepting that others see it in you. Sometimes, the belief of those who care about us can become a guiding light when our own vision is clouded."
Leia's voice carried a soothing tone as she added, "The Force connects all of us. It binds us together and helps us find our way, even when we feel isolated. You're never truly alone in your struggle, and there are always paths to healing if you're willing to seek them."
Izuku's thoughts swirled as he absorbed their wisdom. He could feel a deep sense of connection with Anakin's past and the guidance being offered by Luke and Leia. The burden of his own mistakes and doubts began to feel lighter, as though the presence of the Force ghosts was helping him to see a path through the darkness.
As the wind gently stirred the sand around them, Izuku's resolve began to solidify. He looked at the spectral figures with a new sense of determination. He began to reflect on the words of his friend Hitoshi, the lessons imparted by the Force, and the stories shared by his Force-ghost masters.
He stood up with a mixed expression of acceptance and newfound hope. "I will carry these mistakes with me," he declared. "And if you allow me to be your apprentice again, I will strive to be a Jedi and a hero that makes you proud. This braid," he said, touching the remaining part of his Padawan braid, "will be a reminder of how much I still have to learn and of my commitment to improving."
The spectral figures of Anakin, Luke, and Leia gathered around Izuku, placing their hands on his shoulders in a gesture of unwavering support and unity. Their ethereal presence created a cocoon of warmth and comfort around him. Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda materialized beside Anakin, their forms shimmering softly against the backdrop of twilight.
Kenobi's apparition radiated a calm and composed aura, his eyes reflecting a profound wisdom and reassurance. His presence was a quiet testament to the enduring strength of the Jedi spirit. Yoda, the grandmaster, exuded an air of timeless resilience, his small, wise figure standing as a beacon of hope and fortitude.
Together, they formed a circle of guidance, their unity a powerful symbol of their continued belief in Izuku. This moment of solidarity was more than a mere gesture; it was an affirmation of their commitment to helping him navigate his path. As the light of the setting sun bathed them all in a gentle glow, Izuku felt a profound sense of connection and reassurance, knowing that he was not alone in his journey.
As he looked out at the vast, expansive sky, he felt a renewed commitment to his own path.
Hey, you made it safely!
This chapter focuses on Izuku traveling down redemption avenue, and I hope I handled it the right way.
In the last chapter, I rambled a bit about the Force being like a coin with two sides. Naturally, this called for some visions, and since I'm a big fan of Revan, I couldn't resist giving him a cameo.
I'm particularly pleased with how I portrayed Izuku accepting his dark deeds from the previous chapter and using that acceptance as fuel to become a better hero. But what do you think?
I was looking for the right moment for Anakin to share his past as Darth Vader with Izuku, and this chapter gave me the perfect opportunity. What did you think of how I handled it? Do you think I could have done a better job? Also, don't worry—this isn't the end of the issue. It wouldn't be realistic for it to be completely resolved here, so you can expect it to come up again in future chapters.
Also, fun fact: This is the first time I haven't struggled with picking Clone Wars morals for the chapters. I just read them and thought, 'This is it.'
As always, I'm eager to hear your thoughts. Please drop your opinions in the review box.
Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter (and this author's note). Your support and feedback mean a lot to me. Stay tuned for the next chapter, and may the Force be with you!
Until next time, — FarXs, a dude that writes.