The evening air was cool, the sky painted in deep hues of violet and navy as the last remnants of daylight faded over the U.A. campus. The campus was quiet now, most of the students already settled into their dorms for the night. The once bustling energy of the school had dulled into a calm stillness, the kind that should have been comforting. But for Izuku Midoriya, it was anything but.
Each step he took toward the dormitory doors felt heavier than the last, like iron weights shackled around his ankles, dragging him down into the depths of an ocean he couldn't escape. His body ached, not from the battle with Kirishima, nor from the countless bruises and cuts he had received since the day he was saved—but from something deeper, something he couldn't name.
Everything was wrong.
His breath came out in short, shaky gasps as he reached the entrance of Heights Alliance, his designated dorm. His fingers twitched at his sides, Izuku didn't know why he felt this way… this overwhelming, suffocating wrongness. But it had been creeping up on him ever since the fight. No, ever since he used One for All. Ever since that power coursed through his veins, something had begun to shift.
And now, standing in front of the door, he could no longer ignore it.
The feeling of wrong spread through his chest like wildfire, a terrible, gnawing sensation that made his skin crawl. His fingers clenched tightly into the fabric of his pants, his legs trembling as he tried to steady himself. His breath hitched. He needed to breathe. He needed to calm down.
Why… why does my body feel like this?
His thoughts were racing, spiraling into a tangled mess of fear and confusion. He felt detached—like his body wasn't his own, like something foreign had taken root inside of him.
He gasped, his knees buckling as he collapsed onto the pavement, hands clutching at his chest.
His heartbeat was erratic, wild, hammering against his ribs with an intensity that sent waves of nausea up his throat. His lungs burned, his fingers curling into the cold ground beneath him, nails scraping against the concrete as he struggled to hold on to something… anything… that felt real.
Flashes of the past few weeks flickered through his mind in disjointed fragments.
USJ. Chains. Pain. Laughter.
Blood.
A voice—faint, distorted, whispering to him in the darkness.
"You will be saved."
Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing growing more frantic, more uneven. He felt like he was losing himself, like his body was rejecting him, rejecting who he was.
His vision swam.
The pain was unbearable.
He wanted it to stop.
And then footsteps, as the door swung open.
"Deku?"
A soft voice, hesitant and filled with concern. Through his blurred vision, he saw Ochaco Uraraka standing at the doorway, eyes wide in alarm.
"Deku… what's wrong?!" She was already moving, dropping down beside him in an instant, her hands hovering uncertainly, unsure of what to do. "You're—you're shaking, oh my god—can you breathe?!"
Her voice was distant, muffled, like he was hearing it through a tunnel. He could barely process her words, barely focus on anything except the sheer wrongness coursing through his veins.
He tried to speak, to tell her he was fine, that he just needed a second, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, a strangled gasp escaped his lips as another wave of pain shot through his chest.
Ochaco didn't hesitate. Without another word, she hooked her arms under his shoulders and hoisted him up. He barely registered the movement, his body feeling weak, unresponsive, almost like it wasn't his own.
"I'm getting you inside," she said, determination lacing her voice as she half-carried him through the entrance.
The warmth of the common area hit him instantly, contrasting the cold night air outside. The light was too bright, too harsh against his senses. He flinched, his breath still uneven as he struggled to keep himself upright.
"Guys!" Ochaco called out, her voice urgent.
There was a shuffling sound, followed by the familiar murmurs of his classmates. He could barely register the voices around him, Izuku could hear them speaking but the words felt distant, muddled.
"Midoriya?!"
"Izuku, are you okay?!"
"What the hell happened?!"
He felt himself being lowered onto the couch, the pressure on his legs easing as he sank into the cushions. The voices around him were growing clearer now, their concern evident.
Mina Ashido knelt beside him, her face etched with worry. "Dude, you're pale as hell—what happened to you?!"
Iida was standing nearby, his posture tense, eyes filled with equal parts worry and confusion. "Uraraka, what happened? Did something occur outside?"
"I don't know!" Ochaco responded, her voice frantic. "I just—I heard something outside and when I opened the door, he was—he was on the ground! He could barely breathe!"
Izuku felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned slightly, his gaze meeting Tsuyu Asui's calm, yet worried expression.
"Midoriya," she said softly, her tone steady, "try to breathe. You're safe here."
He let out a shuddering breath, his fingers gripping the fabric of his pants tightly. Safe. Was he?
They were all watching him, waiting for an answer, for some kind of explanation as to why he had collapsed at the front door like his body was falling apart.
But Izuku didn't have an answer. Because he didn't even know what was happening to him.
He swallowed, forcing himself to speak, his voice barely above a whisper. "I… I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."
There was a pause.
Then, a voice spoke up—hesitant, unsure.
"Izuku."
He looked up.
Momo Yaoyorozu was watching him, her brows furrowed with concern. "Has this… happened before?"
His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
Had it? Had he felt this wrong before?
Maybe.
Maybe it had been there ever since the raid. Ever since he had been saved.
He had ignored it, pushed it away, chalked it up to exhaustion, to stress, to everything that had happened to him. But now, now that his body had collapsed under the weight of it… he couldn't ignore it anymore.
Ochaco was still by his side, her hand gripping his wrist gently. "Deku," she murmured, "you don't have to say anything right now. Just… just breathe, okay?"
He nodded weakly, trying to steady himself.
The weight in his chest hadn't disappeared. The wrongness was still there, lingering beneath the surface, waiting.
But for now, surrounded by his classmates, he forced himself to hold it together. Even as his body continued to feel like it was not his own.
The common room continued to be a blur of motion, voices overlapping, footsteps rushing in and out as the rest of Class 1-A poured down from their dorm rooms. Someone had sent a message through their group chat—Midoriya collapsed—and that was all it took for the entire class to drop whatever they were doing and rush to his side.
He was dizzy, the panic attack having drained nearly every ounce of energy from him. But even in his haze, he felt the warmth of hands pressing ice packs to his forehead, bottles of water being placed in his lap, and voices calling for someone to grab a first-aid kit just in case.
"Should we call Recovery Girl?" Mina asked, hovering near him, her face pinched with concern. "Or—or an ambulance? He looks like he's gonna pass out again!"
"I don't think he needs an ambulance," Tsuyu interjected calmly, pressing a cold pack against his wrist. "But we should be ready if he does."
"Midoriya," Kaminari said hesitantly, standing nearby, his usual carefree attitude replaced with something more serious. "What happened? You looked like you were… dying out there."
Izuku took slow, measured breaths, his mind still swimming from the episode. The feeling of wrongness hadn't disappeared, but it had dulled to a numb hum in the back of his mind. He glanced around, taking in the expressions of his classmates… worried, confused, tense, but they were here. He wasn't alone.
He exhaled shakily and forced a weak, tired smile. "I… I'm okay now," he muttered, though even as he said it, he knew it wasn't completely true. "Sorry for scaring everyone."
The room didn't relax.
Yaoyorozu was kneeling beside him, carefully examining his face for any signs that he was hiding something. "Midoriya," she said, her voice gentle but firm, "we understand that a lot has happened to you, but—" her gaze flickered toward his casted arm, her brows furrowing, "—what happened back in the gym, your return and injuries..."
At the mention of his injury, more students turned their attention to the cast wrapped tightly around his arm, the brutal reminder of the mock battle against Kirishima. The realization of just how broken he was began to settle over the group. The swelling. The bruising. The toll.
"That fight took a lot out of you, huh?" Kirishima finally spoke up, rubbing the back of his neck. He had been watching quietly, guilt flickering across his face. "I—I didn't realize how bad it got. I mean, I figured you were holding back, but…" His voice trailed off as he looked at the damage. "Damn, dude."
Silence.
Too much had happened. It wasn't just the battle. It was everything.
The USJ attack. The kidnapping. The media frenzy. His quirk—One for All, which was only known to him and All Might.
"You have to tell us what happened," Todoroki said suddenly. His voice cut through the murmurs like a blade, his mismatched eyes locking onto Izuku's with an intensity that made his stomach twist. "We can't keep pretending like nothing's wrong."
The room tensed.
"Todoroki, maybe this isn't the right time—" Ochaco began, stepping forward protectively, but Izuku raised a hand to stop her.
"It's okay," Izuku said quietly.
She looked at him, hesitant, before stepping back.
Todoroki took a step closer. His expression wasn't angry… but it was something close. Suspicion, maybe. Concern, definitely. His sharp gaze flickered between Izuku's cast, his pale face, and the fading scars that trailed along his skin. "Midoriya, I don't think you're a bad person. But I can't trust you until I understand what's going on." His tone was level, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. "There are too many gaps, too many things being covered up." His fingers clenched at his sides. "What the hell happened to you?"
The weight of Todoroki's words sent an uncomfortable ripple through the group.
"He's right," Yaoyorozu admitted, standing to her full height, her eyes filled with the same quiet unease. "We've been left in the dark. The USJ attack, the raid on the League's hideout, the fact that your quirk has changed—" her voice softened slightly, "—we're your classmates, Midoriya. We deserve to know the truth."
The tension in the air grew unbearable.
Izuku swallowed. His mouth felt dry, his throat tight. He wanted to say something, to explain… to give them the answers they were looking for, but he didn't have them.
The truth?
What truth? That he had woken up in chains? That he had been tortured, manipulated, forced to fight? That he had killed someone and didn't even remember doing it? That he had lost his old quirk and now wielded something far more dangerous, something that he still didn't understand?
How could he tell them any of that? How could he look them in the eyes and say, I don't even know who I am anymore?
He clenched his fists.
"I…"
He hesitated.
"Guys," Iida spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He adjusted his glasses, looking at Izuku with a rare vulnerability. "Midoriya doesn't have to explain everything to us right now."
Todoroki didn't move. "He does, and I need to understand exactly who he is now."
"He will," Iida reassured him. "But right now, he's been through enough." He turned back to Izuku, his voice steady. "We just need you to know, Midoriya, that you don't have to go through this alone. Whatever happened… whatever is still happening—we want to help you."
Kirishima nodded, stepping beside Iida. "He's right, dude. You don't have to say anything right now. Just let us be here for you."
The words hit something deep inside of Izuku—something raw, something fragile.
His fingers trembled at his sides.
They wanted to help him. Even after everything, even after all the rumors, the uncertainty, the fear—they were still here.
He exhaled shakily, lowering his head, unable to meet their eyes.
"Thank you," he whispered.
A silence settled over Class 1-A, thick with an unspoken understanding. Izuku's whispered gratitude had been small, fragile—yet, despite the cracks forming in his voice, it was genuine.
For a brief moment, the weight pressing down on the room seemed to ease.
The students, though still on edge, exchanged glances, searching for reassurance in each other's expressions. Even Todoroki and Yaoyorozu, who had been pressing for answers just moments before, hesitated. There was something off about Midoriya. He had changed.
And they weren't just imagining it.
When he had first arrived at U.A., he had commanded attention, whether he had intended to or not. His movements were calculated, tactical, his words always direct. There had been confidence in his stance, a sharp determination that felt unshakable.
But now…
That presence was gone.
The boy standing in front of them looked lost, adrift, a shell of someone who once existed.
His smile—the one that should have reassured them—only made the unease worse. Because it wasn't fake, it wasn't forced, but there was something deeply unsettling about how genuine it was, despite the dreadful emptiness behind his eyes. His fingers curled tightly against his knees, his head hanging low, strands of green hair falling over his face as he exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
Izuku wanted to say something, anything… to reassure them, to break the unbearable silence but no words came.
"Midoriya," Yaoyorozu finally spoke, her voice quieter than usual, the rigid confidence she often carried laced with hesitation. "We didn't mean to push you this far… I hope you know that."
Izuku blinked slowly, glancing up at her. There was genuine concern in her gaze, but it was Todoroki that caught his attention. The boy hadn't moved from where he stood, still watching him carefully, analyzing him like an equation he couldn't solve.
For a moment, Todoroki didn't speak but he couldn't back down like the others. Slowly, his eyes trailed over Izuku's battered arm, the remnants of the cast that encased it, before he finally let out a slow breath. "You're different," he stated plainly, his mismatched gaze unreadable. "You know that, don't you?"
Izuku stiffened.
"You're not the same person from before USJ," Todoroki continued, his tone even, but there was something underneath it, something uncertain. "Even in our first classes together, you were decisive. Even when you challenged Aizawa, you had a plan. You knew what you were doing. But now?" He narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head as if trying to understand. "You're like a completely different person."
A slow, dry laugh escaped Izuku's lips before he could stop it. He wasn't even sure why he laughed—it wasn't funny. "Yeah," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper, staring down at the tiled floor beneath him. "I guess I am."
That only seemed to unsettle the class even more.
Todoroki finally spoke again, this time slower, more controlled, still analyzing him carefully. "Midoriya…" His voice was measured, as if still trying to make sense of the boy standing before him. "What happened after the raid?"
"…After the raid?" Izuku exhaled, rubbing his bandaged arm absentmindedly. His throat felt dry, but he forced himself to continue. "I… I don't remember everything. But…" He swallowed hard. "I do remember…"
Izuku paused, seemingly lost and broken. "I… I remember being tortured," he muttered.
The room went deathly still. The words shattered the atmosphere in an instant..
No one spoke. No one breathed.
His voice had been quiet when he said it, but it felt like it had echoed, the weight of the admission sinking into the very air around them. He hadn't even realized what he had said until he noticed the looks on their faces… the horror, the sheer disbelief, the way Yaoyorozu's hands trembled at her sides, how Kaminari's eyes widened, how Ochaco's breath hitched.
He swallowed hard.
"I don't remember everything," he admitted, forcing himself to continue. "But I remember the pain. I remember... screaming." His fingers dug into his pants, nails pressing against the fabric as he tried to force himself to keep speaking, to get it out before he lost his nerve. "There were voices. I think—I think they hurt me, but I don't know why. I don't even know how long it lasted." His throat felt tight. "I was chained up when All Might found me. I couldn't move, I couldn't—"
His hands trembled as his chest tightened. And then, without thinking, he moved.
His fingers slipped underneath the fabric of his shirt, gripping the hem. A part of him screamed not to do this, to stop, to keep it hidden… but another part, the part that had been carrying this weight alone for so long, the part that was suffocating beneath the weight of everything he didn't understand, needed them to see.
He pulled his shirt up as gasps filled the room. A few students cursed under their breath. It was worse than any of them had imagined.
His torso was littered with scars. Deep, jagged lines criss crossed his skin like reminders of a war he had no memory of fighting. Some were thin and faded, others fresh, harsh, a grotesque canvas of suffering and unanswered questions. There were burns that hadn't healed properly, cuts that looked like they had been deliberately placed—some in patterns that no one could decipher. It was the body of someone who had suffered for months, not days.
But Izuku didn't know that. To him, this was all from the raid.
And as he looked down at himself, at the horrified expressions of his classmates, at the way Yaoyorozu's hand covered her mouth, at the way Todoroki's fists clenched at his sides, at the way Ochaco's eyes began to glisten with unshed tears, a horrifying thought crept into his mind.
What if they were right? What if he really wasn't the same person anymore? What if something had happened to him—something he couldn't remember—and now he was just an echo of whoever he used to be?
The room was too quiet. The silence too deafening.
And then, suddenly, a warmth.
Ochaco had moved before she even realized what she was doing. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him against her, her grip firm, secure, unwavering. It wasn't hesitant, it wasn't out of pity, it was real. A simple, undeniable act of comfort.
Izuku froze as his breath hitched. For a moment, he didn't know how to react. But then, his body broke.
His fingers curled against her back, his shoulders shaking as his vision blurred. He hadn't realized he was crying until he felt the wetness streak down his face. Ugly, broken sobs wracked his chest as his entire body trembled under the sheer weight of everything… the fear, the confusion, the guilt, the unanswered questions, the fact that he felt like a stranger in his own skin.
Ochaco didn't say anything. She just held him.
And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he let himself fall apart.
The rest of the class watched, silent, their previous interrogations now feeling cruel, their own concerns suddenly insignificant in the face of the reality before them.
After a moment, Ochaco pulled back slightly, wiping her eyes. "Maybe…" she hesitated, looking around at the rest of the class before turning back to Izuku. "Maybe we should give him some space for now. We can talk later. But right now, he just… needs to rest."
The others hesitated. Then, one by one, they nodded.
Todoroki sighed, glancing at Izuku one last time before stepping back. "I still need to know more," he muttered, but his voice lacked the sharpness it had before. "But I get it."
Yaoyorozu swallowed thickly. "We'll talk later, Midoriya," she said, her voice softer now. "For now, just… take care of yourself."
The group slowly dispersed, leaving behind a handful of people—Ochaco, Tsuyu, Iida, and Kirishima.
The four of them stayed, because they weren't leaving him alone. Not tonight. Not anymore.
The warmth of his friends around him should have been comforting. The room was filled with a gentle hum of conversation, Kirishima was still muttering about how he'd have to get Izuku some protein shakes, Tsuyu was quietly reminding him to rest properly, Iida was already mapping out a schedule to ensure Izuku wouldn't overexert himself, and Ochaco hadn't moved an inch from his side, her presence grounding him.
It should have been safe. But it wasn't.
A sudden lump formed in his chest, heavy and unrelenting, as if his ribs were caving inward under an unseen weight. His breath hitched, his lungs tightening, and just as he was about to excuse himself to get some fresh air…
Something inside of him stirred.
A primal, horrific, inhuman force, a presence so overwhelming and suffocating that it threatened to consume everything he was. And then—
"This is fucking pathetic… get out of my body."
Izuku's entire world froze, blood turned to ice.
His body seized up, his muscles locking so tightly that even breathing felt like a monumental effort. The voice had not been external. It had not come from the room, nor from outside.
It had come from inside him.
It was deep, low, and twisted, seeping into his mind like poison bleeding into water. It carried with it a weight beyond understanding, something vast and unfathomable, something that should not exist within him.
His vision swam. His heartbeat pounded violently in his ears. His fingers dug into the fabric of his pants as the air in the room became unbearable.
"Izuku? What's wrong?" Ochaco's voice. Distant. Muffled. Like she was speaking to him from the other end of a long, dark tunnel.
Izuku tried to move, to look at her, but his body refused.
The voice laughed—a sickening, amused chuckle that crawled up his spine like a thousand writhing insects.
"You may not remember anything… and it's preventing me from saying more."
Izuku felt a sharp, piercing pain behind his eyes, a sensation like something was trying to force its way into his thoughts. He gasped, his breath ragged, and his friends noticed.
"Deku?" Kirishima's voice, uncertain.
"Midoriya, are you alright?" Iida, always so observant, now growing increasingly alarmed.
But Izuku wasn't listening, because the voice spoke again.
"That damn A̷̝͆̌͝l̴̡̯̍̿l̸̞͖͐̆̾ ̶̹̺̾͑̍͘F̶̰̠̾͌̚o̵̝̠̎̀̎r̶̰̜̐͗ ̸̡̡̖͗͑̃Ō̴͇̥̐̇̾N̷̹̩̒̀̌͝Ë̶̞͚͑͋…"
The word… a name… that should have been clear, should have been something he understood, something he recognized was twisted unnaturally, warping itself beyond comprehension, like something not meant to be spoken aloud.
He could hear it.
But he couldn't comprehend it, as if whatever the voice said was purposefully blocked off from saying it. It was just out of reach, like a memory buried under layers of fog, something he should know but wasn't allowed to.
Izuku's stomach twisted into a tight knot of pure, unnatural dread.
"I will make sure you do remember…"
The voice was closer now. Right behind him. No—inside him.
"Painfully."
His pulse skyrocketed.
"Slowly."
A sharp, unbearable pressure crushed his skull.
"And then, you will finally accept reality… who the real me is." It paused, as almost it's voice was smiled. "And what a wonderful gift you have presented to me."
And then silence… The presence vanished as if it had never been there. The crushing weight, the suffocating terror, the unnatural pressure, all gone.
Izuku inhaled sharply, his body lurching forward as he gasped for air, his lungs burning as if he had been drowning seconds ago. The room spun violently, but the warmth of hands grasping his shoulders brought him back.
"Deku!"
Ochaco's face was inches from his, her brown eyes wide with pure, unfiltered concern.
Kirishima was crouched beside him, gripping his forearm like an anchor. Iida had his hand on his shoulder, brows furrowed in worry. Tsuyu, though quiet, was watching him with an expression that bordered on fear.
"You just—" Ochaco swallowed thickly, "You froze up. You weren't blinking. We were calling your name but you didn't respond."
Izuku's lips parted slightly, trying to find an answer, an excuse, something that would make sense.
But there was nothing. Nothing that would explain what just happened. Nothing that would make them stop looking at him like that.
So he forced himself to smile. It felt wrong, like his face was being stretched unnaturally, but he had to try.
"S-Sorry," he said, his voice weaker than he intended. "I—uh, just zoned out for a second. Probably still a little out of it from earlier." He let out a shaky chuckle, scratching his arm in a way he hoped was convincing enough.
His friends didn't look convinced. But after a long, tense pause Ochaco exhaled and smiled, though her worry hadn't faded. "Jeez, you scared us for a second, Deku."
"Yeah, man, don't do that!" Kirishima grinned, but there was something strained behind it. "I was about to call Recovery Girl."
Iida nodded, adjusting his glasses. "Perhaps it would be best for you to rest. Your body has already undergone an immense amount of stress today."
Izuku forced himself to laugh softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah… you're probably right."
The tension in the room eased slightly, but the unease in his chest didn't fade. Because deep down, he knew the truth. That voice hadn't been a hallucination.
A/N: This was a super fun chapter to write! It looks like something or someone has awakened? For better or for worse... Hope you enjoyed! Leave a favourite, follow, and a review! I always love seeing how you guys break down the story.