Arc 1: Fresh Faced Fools
Chapter 8: Cursed to Live...
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Zeta: Here's an update and here's what happens next!
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Izuku floated adrift in an endless, dark void, surrounded by silence so profound it felt like it could swallow him whole. The space around him had a fluid, weightless quality, like he was submerged in deep, still water. Each movement sent slow, rippling waves through the darkness, and though he felt like he was sinking, there was no ground to reach.
Above him, a singular light glimmered like a distant star, its golden rays piercing through the oppressive blackness. The glow carried a warmth that touched more than his skin—it reached into his very soul, washing over him with a sense of calm and comfort. It was a stark contrast to the turmoil he had endured moments before, the chaos and agony still fresh in his mind.
Drawn to the light, Izuku extended a trembling hand and began to move toward it, his body sluggish and aching. Yet, the closer he got, the more a deep yearning took hold of him. It wasn't just the warmth he craved—it was the promise of peace, an escape from the relentless battles and sacrifices that had weighed him down for so long.
As he swam, a voice echoed from the void, deep and resonant, cutting through the silence like thunder.
"You can't die yet, young man,"
Izuku froze mid-motion, his heart thudding in his chest. His gaze darted around, but the darkness gave him nothing—no form, no source. Just the voice.
'Huh... who's there? Who's talking?' he thought, his mind clouded with exhaustion.
Another voice followed, softer and gentler, yet carrying an undeniable urgency.
"You're our hope,"
A third voice, trembling with emotion, joined in.
"We need you,"
Izuku closed his eyes, his head drooping as he let out a long, shaky breath.
'Hope? You don't need me, I'm tired... I've given everything...' The words formed in his mind, not with anger but with resignation, his weariness heavier than ever.
The first voice returned, sharper and tinged with a dark edge.
"You're our chance for revenge!"
"Our chance to kill that demon!" the second voice added, its tone desperate, almost pleading.
Izuku's eyes snapped open, the light above him suddenly seeming farther away.
'Demon...?' The word echoed in his thoughts, his confusion cutting through the haze of fatigue.
"The man known as the Demon King! The villain who steals quirks and souls!" the third voice declared, its words slicing through the darkness with a chilling intensity. Each syllable carried weight, resonating with an ancient, raw hatred that seemed to pulse through the void itself.
Izuku's breath caught in his throat. The name felt foreign, yet something about it clawed at the edges of his memory, tugging at a part of him he didn't fully understand.
Before he could process it, more voices erupted around him, each one bursting with urgency, desperation, and fury. They came from every direction, blending into a storm of sound that battered his already fragile consciousness.
"He has to be stopped!" one voice cried out, sharp and fierce, vibrating with unshakable determination.
"We must kill him! Tear him apart! Take back what he stole!" another voice echoed, dripping with venom and seething with vengeance.
"You don't understand—he's too dangerous to leave alive!" a third voice shouted, its words trembling with both fear and conviction.
"He's ruined us all!"
"You have to fight!"
"You cannot die!"
"Not yet!"
"We need our revenge!"
Izuku clutched at his chest, his breathing ragged, the voices piercing through him with every syllable. The warmth of the light above faltered, the comforting glow now flickering as the weight of their desperation pressed on him.
"WAKE UP!" demanded all the voices in unison.
Izuku shot upright with a gasp, his chest heaving as if he had just surfaced from drowning. His eyes darted wildly around the dimly lit room, his heart pounding like a war drum. He was lying on an operating table, the cold, unyielding steel pressing against his bare skin. Half of his body was draped with a stark white sheet, and as the realization struck him, a flush of embarrassment rushed to his face.
"W-Whoa! Where are my clothes!?" he blurted, his voice echoing sharply against the sterile walls of what was unmistakably a morgue.
His hands scrambled to clutch the sheet closer to his body, his cheeks burning with mortification. Before he could process anything further, the creak of a door opening drew his attention. He snapped his head toward the sound, his breath catching at the sight of figures entering the room.
First came the mortician, whose face shifted from practiced detachment to wide-eyed shock. Behind them were three familiar faces—Principal Nezu, All Might, and Detective Tsukauchi. The group stopped in their tracks, their expressions a blend of astonishment, confusion, and an almost palpable sense of disbelief.
All Might's jaw slackened, his thin, gaunt face betraying his usual composure. Nezu's sharp eyes gleamed with something indescribable—relief, perhaps, or sheer awe. Tsukauchi, ever the seasoned detective, looked like he'd seen a ghost, his usually calm demeanor shattered.
Izuku instinctively adjusted the sheet around himself, his fingers gripping it tightly as his cheeks darkened further. Despite the surreal nature of the situation, embarrassment overrode everything else for a brief moment.
"Uh... could I, um, get my clothes back? Please?" Izuku asked, his voice tinged with a sheepish, almost childlike vulnerability.
It was Nezu who broke the silence first, stepping forward slowly. His diminutive form belied the gravitas of his words as he spoke, his voice soft yet trembling with emotion.
"Izuku... you're alive," he murmured, his tone hovering between disbelief and overwhelming relief.
Izuku blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Alive? What do you mean?"
Before Nezu could respond, a flood of memories surged through Izuku's mind. His hands shot up to clutch his head as fragments of the battle replayed in excruciating detail—the clash of fists, the searing pain, the desperate cries, and finally, the moment of darkness. He had died. He knew he had died.
"I... I died," Izuku murmured, his voice trembling with disbelief as his eyes darted between the faces before him. His hands gripped the edge of the steel table, the cold metal grounding him as his mind raced. "But... I'm back? How?"
The weight of his words hung in the air, the stillness broken only by the faint hum of overhead lights. The silence that followed felt deafening, as if no one dared to speak, uncertain of how to address the impossible.
Nezu stepped forward, his calm, composed demeanor radiating reassurance despite the surreal circumstances. His small frame seemed almost fragile compared to the gravity of the moment, yet his sharp eyes gleamed with purpose.
"For now, let's not worry about the details," Nezu said, his voice soothing but firm, as if willing Izuku to anchor himself in the present. "What's important is that you're here, first, we need to get you dressed and make sure you have something to eat. We'll address the rest in due time."
Izuku nodded numbly, his mind still spinning as he tried to process the impossible turn of events. His trembling hands loosened their grip on the table, and he let out a shaky breath, clinging to Nezu's calm words like a lifeline.
Nezu turned to the mortician, All Might, and Detective Tsukauchi, his expression shifting to one of quiet authority. "Doctor," he addressed the mortician, "Could you please find some clothes for young Midoriya? And I trust I can count on your discretion regarding what you've witnessed here,"
The mortician, still visibly shaken, nodded quickly. "Of course, Principal Nezu," he said, his voice slightly unsteady as he hurried out of the room, eager to follow through on the request.
As the door swung shut, Nezu pivoted to face All Might and Detective Tsukauchi, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "Gentlemen, we have a mystery on our hands," he said, his voice low but heavy with significance. "This event requires immediate analysis and absolute confidentiality,"
All Might's brows furrowed, his gaunt face shadowed with a mix of relief and unease. "Agreed," he said, his voice carrying a deep gravity. "Young Midoriya's return is... miraculous, but it's also troubling, we need answers—and quickly,"
Detective Tsukauchi adjusted his stance, his professional mask slipping to reveal genuine concern. "Whatever brought him back, we can't afford to let this news spread," he said, his tone measured but urgent. "If word gets out, it could draw attention we're not prepared to handle, Izuku's safety must be our top priority,"
Nezu's sharp mind was already racing, piecing together fragments of what little they knew, while simultaneously preparing for the avalanche of questions yet to come. His small frame belied the immense weight of his intellect, and his voice, though calm, carried a commanding authority.
"Agreed," Nezu said, nodding firmly. "Our first priority is to ensure Izuku is stable—physically, mentally, and emotionally, once he's had time to gather himself, we need a full debrief from his perspective, whatever he experienced, it might provide critical clues,"
As he spoke, the door creaked open, and the mortician re-entered, carrying a neatly folded set of clothes. "Here you go," the mortician said, his voice subdued, his gaze flickering uneasily between Izuku and Nezu.
"Thank you," Izuku said softly, taking the clothes. He dressed quickly, the simple act grounding him in a way nothing else had since he'd awoken. The familiar texture of fabric against his skin brought a fleeting sense of normalcy, though his mind remained a storm of bewilderment and questions.
As Izuku slipped on the last piece of clothing, he glanced at the adults. Their expressions varied—Nezu's sharp and calculating, All Might's torn between relief and concern, and Tsukauchi's a mask of professional detachment overlaying quiet unease. The sight filled Izuku with a strange sense of foreboding; whatever had brought him back wasn't just personal—it was monumental.
Nezu gestured toward the door, signaling for them to leave the morgue. "Let's continue this discussion in a more secure location," he said.
The group exited together, their footsteps echoing in the cold, sterile hallways. The air was heavy, thick with unspoken questions and the tension of a mystery that none of them could yet grasp. Izuku walked at the center of the group, his posture unsure but his mind churning.
Every step away from the morgue felt like stepping deeper into the unknown. A miracle had occurred, one that defied logic and understanding, but it was also clear that it wasn't without consequence...
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Two Days Later:
It was lunchtime at U.A. High School, and Setsuna Tokage and Juzo Honenuki found themselves sitting outside on a grassy hill near the cafeteria. The bright midday sun bathed the grounds in a warm glow, but the usual liveliness of their surroundings seemed muted. Each had a tray of food in front of them, but neither showed much interest in eating. The recent attack on the U.S.J. had left deep scars, and the weight of the experience clung to them like a heavy fog.
Juzo, usually upbeat and quick to joke, found himself unusually quiet. He glanced at Setsuna, her emerald green hair ruffling slightly in the breeze as she sat hunched over, staring at the ground. Her expression was blank, distant as if her mind were a million miles away.
The silence between them was deafening, filled with unspoken words and lingering echoes of the chaos they'd survived. Juzo shifted uncomfortably, the weight of the moment pressing on him. He let out a soft sigh, deciding to break the oppressive quiet.
"Kind of weird, huh?" he started, his voice light but tentative. "Having Ms. Midnight as our substitute while Vlad-sensei recovers?" He tried to inject a sense of normalcy into the conversation, his tone carrying an edge of forced cheer.
Setsuna didn't respond. Her gaze remained locked on the ground, her hands resting limply on her tray. It was as if she hadn't even heard him.
Juzo frowned, watching her closely. The spark that usually defined Setsuna—the boldness, the humor, the unstoppable energy—was nowhere to be found. In its place was a quiet, unsettling stillness. He hated seeing her like this, and yet he knew she wasn't alone in feeling this way. They'd both been through hell.
After a few moments, he tried again, his voice a little softer this time. "Ya know... I'm actually kind of glad the sports festival is coming up," he said, forcing a small smile. "It'll give us something to focus on, a chance to push ourselves and show what we've got! I mean... we can't let something like this keep us down forever, right?"
He let out a low chuckle, but the sound rang hollow in the heavy air. It felt more like a reflex than genuine laughter.
Setsuna's gaze finally shifted, though it didn't lift from the ground. After a long pause, she spoke, her voice so quiet that Juzo had to lean in slightly to hear her.
"Does it feel like a dream to you?" she asked, her tone detached, almost as if she were speaking to herself.
Juzo raised an eyebrow, unsure if he'd heard her correctly. "Hm?"
"Izuku being dead," Setsuna said, her voice trembling as she clarified. "Does it feel like a nightmare? Like... like a dream?" Her eyes were fixed on the ground, her words halting as if they were too painful to say aloud. "It doesn't feel real to me... I keep thinking he's going to walk through the classroom door with that damn smile on his face... but then I remind myself he's dead, and he's never coming back,"
Her words hit like a punch to the gut, and Juzo felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He knew exactly what she meant. The death of Izuku Midoriya didn't just feel wrong—it felt impossible, like some cruel twist of fate they couldn't quite believe.
After the attack, when Juzo had returned home, he'd spent the night lying awake, clinging to the faint hope that he'd wake up and everything would be normal again. That Izuku would be in class the next day, chatting about quirks or hero strategy with that spark of passion in his voice. But when he'd come back to U.A. and seen the somber faces of his classmates, the crushing reality set in.
Juzo nodded slowly, his expression heavy with sorrow. His eyes met Setsuna's, and he could see his own grief reflected in hers. "Yeah... it feels like a dream," he admitted, his voice low. "I hate it. I know it's real, but a part of me keeps... hoping, hoping that somehow, we're wrong. That he's not gone,"
Setsuna's lips quivered as she fought back tears. Her hands clenched into fists on her tray, her knuckles white. "'Become amazing heroes,'" she said quietly, her voice cracking. "That's what he told us to do. That's what he believed in."
Juzo straightened slightly, his sorrow momentarily replaced by a flicker of determination. "Yeah," he said, his voice firm. "And I'm gonna make sure to do just that during—"
"HEY! B-Listers!"
Startled, both Juzo and Setsuna turned to see a spiky blonde-haired student stomping toward them, his posture radiating aggression. His sharp crimson eyes were locked on them with a fiery intensity. Katsuki Bakugou from Class 1-A was practically a storm cloud of annoyance and fury as he approached, his movements brisk and purposeful.
"Who's he?" Juzo muttered, frowning at the approaching figure.
Setsuna shrugged, equally puzzled. "No clue. But he's definitely pissed."
Bakugou stopped directly in front of them, crossing his arms as he glared down at the pair. His voice came out as a low growl, brimming with disdain. "You must think you're hot shit for fighting villains, huh?"
Juzo blinked in confusion before his brow furrowed. "What?"
"Don't play dumb with me!" Bakugou snapped, his tone sharp and accusatory. "You extras probably think you're so damn special now, don't you? Just because you got a little taste of real action?"
The venom in his voice sent a spark of irritation through Setsuna. She narrowed her eyes, standing her ground. "Excuse me?" she said sharply, her tone matching his intensity.
Bakugou scoffed, stepping closer as if to emphasize his point. "Yeah, you heard me, lizard girl! You're all probably patting yourselves on the back for surviving that shit, huh? Feeling like real heroes now? Well, let me tell you something—you're not!"
"Seriously?!" Setsuna shot back, rising to her feet. Her emerald eyes blazed with anger as she faced him. "We didn't ask to get attacked! Do you think we wanted any of that?!"
"Tch!" Bakugou clicked his tongue, his glare intensifying. "Don't give me that crap. You're just sitting here acting all high and mighty. Like you're better than me because you got a shot at some real villains!"
"Bakugou, what are you doing!?" a voice called out, cutting through the simmering tension.
From behind the spiky-haired blonde, a small group of his classmates approached: Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina. Their expressions ranged from concern to exasperation as they closed the distance.
"Bakugou, what's your deal, man?" Kirishima asked, his tone equal parts firm and pleading.
Bakugou turned on his heel to face them, his glare landing squarely on Kirishima. "Shut it, shitty hair!" he snapped, jabbing a finger in Kirishima's direction. "I'm just putting these B-listers in their place!"
"Dude, leave them alone, seriously!" Kaminari interjected, his usual lightheartedness replaced by genuine irritation. "One of them died, for crying out loud!"
Bakugou's brow furrowed for a moment, as if the words hadn't fully registered. Then his expression shifted, a flicker of realization crossing his face before being quickly buried under his usual scowl. "Oh, right. Heard about that. One of them kicked the bucket..." He paused, his tone turning sharp and dismissive. "Wasn't it the quirkless freak?"
The words hit like a thunderclap. Setsuna and Juzo froze for a split second before anger erupted in their expressions.
"Are you serious right now!?" Setsuna barked, her fists clenching so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.
Bakugou ignored her, continuing with a sneer. "No surprise he bit it. What the hell did he think was gonna happen? Some wannabe hero with no quirk, throwing himself into a fight like he belonged there? The idiot probably got in your way more than anything else. Bet you spent more time saving his ass than anything else."
Juzo's jaw tightened, his usually calm demeanor cracking under the weight of his fury. Setsuna, however, was already moving.
"Shut the hell up, you bastard!" she yelled, stepping forward. Her entire body radiated anger, her voice trembling with the sheer force of her emotions.
Bakugou's eyes narrowed as he took a step toward her, his posture shifting into something almost predatory. "Or what?" he challenged, his tone low and dangerous.
Setsuna pulled her hand back, her fingers curling into a tight fist, ready to launch an attack. Across from her, Bakugou's stance shifted, his hands flexing as faint pops of sparks crackled ominously around his palms. The air between them felt electrified, a single spark away from igniting into chaos.
"That's quite enough," a voice rang out, calm yet commanding.
The tension shattered like glass as both Setsuna and Bakugou froze. They turned in unison to see Principal Nezu standing a few feet away, his small frame almost dwarfed by the authority emanating from him. Alone, yet entirely in control, he regarded them with his signature blank yet calculating expression.
"Principal Nezu!?" Mina exclaimed, her voice high with surprise. Her wide eyes darted between Nezu and the brewing fight.
Nezu clasped his small hands together and took a deliberate step forward. "Mr. Bakugou," he began, his voice measured but firm, "I suggest you be on your way. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to assign you detention for this unnecessary aggression."
Bakugou's eyes narrowed as he turned to fully face the principal, sparks briefly flaring from his palms. "Tch! Whatever," he grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. With a final scowl at Setsuna, he turned on his heel and stalked off.
Nezu watched him go before redirecting his attention to Setsuna and Juzo. His demeanor remained calm, but there was a distinct gentleness in his tone as he spoke. "Ms. Tokage, how are you holding up?"
Setsuna's glare lingered, her posture still stiff with frustration. "Do you really need to ask me that?" she replied sharply, her voice a mixture of defiance and hurt.
Nezu tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful yet understanding. "I ask because I care," he said simply. "I know emotions are running high, and the weight of what you've been through is immeasurable. But please, remember this: you are not alone in carrying it."
Juzo placed a steadying hand on Setsuna's shoulder, his quiet presence a reminder of their shared burden. Setsuna took a shaky breath, her clenched fists relaxing at her sides.
Juzo, still trying to shake off the lingering tension from the confrontation, nodded in agreement. "Thanks, Principal Nezu," he murmured quietly, his voice soft but sincere.
Nezu's gaze softened, and he offered them a small, reassuring smile. "Take care of yourselves, and remember, U.A. is here to help you," he said with an air of kindness, his voice calm and gentle despite the weight of everything that had happened. With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps light yet purposeful.
As Nezu distanced himself, Setsuna and Juzo stood in silence, watching their principal retreat into the school building. The tension between them, which had been so sharp just moments before, began to dissipate, replaced by a fragile calm.
Juzo exhaled a deep breath, the weight of the confrontation lifting slightly from his shoulders. "That was close," he muttered, running a hand through his hair and glancing at Setsuna to gauge her reaction.
Setsuna, still visibly shaken, nodded in agreement but her jaw remained tight with barely contained anger. "Yeah, but I won't let anyone talk about Izuku like that," she said firmly, her voice unwavering and sharp. Her words carried a depth of emotion, a mixture of protective anger and the lingering pain of their friend's death.
Juzo looked at her, admiration and concern swirling in his chest. "I know," he replied softly. "None of us will,"
Setsuna let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh. "I don't know how to feel anymore! Every day is just a reminder that he's not here!"
Juzo nodded, his expression softening. "I get it, but... we have to keep moving forward, for him, for all of us." His words were tinged with a quiet resolve. They both knew that Izuku had wanted them to be great heroes, and they couldn't afford to let grief paralyze them.
Meanwhile, Nezu continued walking away, but as he did, a heavy feeling settled deep in his chest. The weight of the moment pressed on him, and his steps faltered for just a second as a pang of familiar, gnawing guilt twisted within him.
As much as he wanted to comfort the students, to tell them the truth, he couldn't. He knew the secret he carried was too important, that revealing it now would only complicate things further. Izuku wasn't truly gone, but for now, for the sake of a larger, more intricate plan, that truth had to remain hidden. The lie felt suffocating, but it was a necessary one. The burden of that deception was a constant presence in Nezu's thoughts, a reminder of the stakes they were all facing.
With a final, silent glance back at the students, Nezu pushed forward, his mind already working through the next steps, all while carrying the quiet, unbearable weight of the truth on his shoulders.