Chapter 13

I was Night Crawler

Nemuri stared at Izuku's unconscious form, her gaze soft yet burdened with the weight of her emotions. He lay on the hospital bed, his face uncharacteristically serene, as though untouched by the pain he had endured. Tears shimmered in her eyes, threatening to spill over as her chest tightened under the crush of sorrow and helplessness.

Faint red blotches still lingered on Izuku's skin, stubborn remnants of the blood he had shed. The memory of him collapsing, blood pouring from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears, flashed vividly in her mind. It hit her like a thunderclap, making her flinch. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to banish the haunting image.

Nemuri took a shuddering breath, her grip on Izuku's hand tightening. It felt like holding onto a lifeline, not only for him, but for herself as well. She silently prayed, willing her emotions and hopes into the fragile connection their clasped hands provided.

"He should be alright."

The voice came softly from the other side of the bed. The sound of the voice was a bit high-pitched like that of a child but it was steady and laced with a quiet wisdom. Nemuri turned her head slightly, meeting the calm gaze of Recovery Girl, who stood with a clipboard in her hand, a serious look on her face.

"He's suffered significant blood loss," Recovery Girl continued. "But his body's healing well. He'll need rest. He should wake up by tomorrow."

"What happened to him, Recovery Girl?" Nemuri asked, her voice trembling from fear and confusion. She needed to understand how Izuku had ended up in such a devastating state out-of-nowhere.

"Brain hemorrhage, popped blood vessels, strain on his heart, to name a few," Recovery Girl replied. While her tone was steady, her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. It was clear that the extent of Izuku's injuries had shaken even her.

Nemuri's eyes widened in disbelief. Her heart dropped at the list of injuries. "What?" she whispered, as if the very idea of it was too impossible to grasp. "How is that possible?"

Recovery Girl gave a soft shrug. "You tell me," she said before her eyes narrowed slightly. "Where did you find him? And better yet, who is he?"

"Well, he was with me at my home," Nemuri answered the first question, though her voice faltered. She didn't know how to answer the second. "And well… he… he is…"

Before she could finish, a voice interjected—a high-pitched but unmistakably male voice, laced with a hint of concern.

"If he was at her home, what do you think could've caused such a blow to the child?" the voice asked.

Nemuri and Recovery Girl both turned toward the source of the voice. Standing by the door was an unexpected figure: a raccoon (or was it a dog?), standing on its hind legs, arms (or was it paws) neatly tucked behind its back. A scar ran down the right side of its face, but the smile it wore seemed oddly out of place on the creature's otherwise solemn expression. The raccoon was dressed in a formal suit, its presence almost surreal, yet commanding in its own way.

"Could it be a quirk?" the raccoon-shaped creature asked curiously.

"Could be," Recovery Girl answered after a brief pause.

"Could be?" Nemuri echoed, the uncertainty gnawing at her.

Turning her gaze back to Izuku, Recovery Girl elaborated, "I mean, it's possible that a quirk could be the cause. But there's also a chance that the blood loss was a direct result of his own quirk."

"His own quirk…?" Nemuri frowned, her brows knitting together in confusion.

"Do you know when he last used it?" Recovery Girl probed calmly.

Nemuri hesitated, racking her brain for an answer. "Uh… three days ago, I guess," she finally replied, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. She couldn't believe she was losing track of time at her age.

"What is his quirk?" the raccoon-like creature interjected, its curious tone drawing Nemuri's attention back to it.

"I...uh...I actually have no idea," she admitted softly, guilt-eating at her. How had she never asked him about his quirk after all the time she had spent with him?

Recovery Girl had a grave expression on her face. "There's a possibility that his quirk is incompatible with his body," she explained. "If that's the case, it might've pushed him past his limits, leading to this." She hopped down from her stool and held up a small vial of crimson liquid, its contents shimmering under the fluorescent lights. "I'll send his blood to the Research Laboratory we have here. Let's see if they can uncover anything useful."

Nemuri exhaled, the tension in her chest easing just a little. "Thank you, Recovery Girl," she said, offering a small but genuine smile.

The older woman nodded, her features softening just enough to convey reassurance. "We'll do everything we can. Don't worry." She extended a hand, holding out a small, brightly wrapped candy. "Here, take this. Candies can help uplift the mood sometimes," she said kindly.

Nemuri hesitated for only a moment before taking the candy. "Thanks," she murmured, unwrapping it carefully and popping it into her mouth. The faint sweetness was a welcome distraction, even if it did little to dispel the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

Patting Nemuri's thigh in a gentle, comforting gesture, Recovery Girl gave her a small smile. "Hang in there," she said before leaving the room, her footsteps soft against the tile floor.

The room fell into a deep silence, broken only by the faint hum of medical equipment. Nemuri's gaze remained fixed on Izuku, her thoughts consumed by worry and regret.

"You seem to care for him deeply," the raccoon-shaped creature remarked, his cheery tone breaking the stillness. "For you to rush to U.A. in tears after almost a decade of cutting contact with us. Well, that says a lot." He chuckled softly, the sound tinged with nostalgia. "I'll leave you with him. My best wishes."

The creature turned, his small frame moving gracefully toward the door.

"Nezu," Nemuri called, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling on the edge of breaking.

Nezu stopped in the doorway, turning to face her. "Yes?"

"Thank you," Nemuri said, her tears finally spilling over. She hiccupped, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for everything, even after… how I treated you."

Nezu's expression softened, a gentle smile spreading across his face. "Hey, now," he said brightly, his tone lifting the weight of the moment just enough. "No need for any of that. We wouldn't want the child waking up and seeing you like this, would we?" He chuckled lightly.

With that, Nezu turned and exited the room, leaving Nemuri alone with the green-haired boy. She reached out to clasp Izuku's hand once more, her silent prayers filling the quiet space.


Izuku found himself once again enveloped in an inky black void, the kind of darkness so dense it felt alive, pressing against his skin and smothering the air around him. He recognized this place. It was the same oppressive expanse where he had encountered that twisted reflection of himself—the doppelganger whose voice still haunted him at nights.

This time, however, the void seemed different. The solitary beam of light that pierced the darkness before was now fixed directly on him, sharp and rigid, as if scrutinizing his every move.

He squinted, scanning the emptiness around him. His eyes darted from side to side, searching for any hint of movement in the abyss, but the space seemed endless and utterly still. As unease settled over him, Izuku's instincts urged him to turn. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder and his breath caught, his body jolting as he stumbled back.

A pair of piercing emerald-green eyes stared at him through the blackness, their brightness almost unnatural against the shroud of shadows. No features accompanied them, no outline of a face; just those glowing, hate-filled eyes, burning with an intensity that made Izuku's stomach twist.

"Y-You again," he stammered, his voice breaking as he struggled to steady his racing heart. His fists clenched at his sides, but he couldn't stop the tremor in his words. "What do you want?"

The eyes narrowed, their silent scrutiny cutting deeper than any words could. Then came the voice—low, distorted, and grating, like a broken speaker fighting to form coherent sounds.

"I wAnT tO ReMiNd YoU," it began, the words crawling from the darkness like insects. The distorted cadence shifted, laced with a strange calmness that only made it more unnerving. "WhAt We wErE sUpPoSeD tO bE."

Izuku blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. He stepped back again, trying to create distance between himself and those burning eyes, but they followed his every move. "What?" he murmured, the word barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

"LooK DoWn," the doppelganger commanded, its voice slicing through the void like a blade.

Izuku's throat constricted, a lump forming that he couldn't swallow. His mouth felt dry, as if the words had stolen all the moisture from the air. Slowly, trembling, he lowered his gaze. His wide eyes froze on the sight beneath him—a sprawling pool of dark, crimson blood, its surface reflecting the dim, sickly light of the void.

His breath hitched, and he stumbled backward, nearly losing his footing. "No… no, no, no," he murmured under his breath, shaking his head as if denying the reality before him would make it vanish.

"YOu KIlleD HeR," the doppelganger accused, its tone icy and devoid of any warmth.

Izuku's head shot upward, his heart pounding in his chest. His counterpart's piercing, unrelenting gaze held him captive.

"Who?" Izuku croaked, his voice raw with confusion and dread.

"Her," the other Izuku said flatly, no emotion coloring the words.

A cold weight in his right hand made Izuku's breath hitch again. Hesitantly, as if afraid of what he might see, he raised his hand—and froze. There it was: a blood-stained knife gripped tightly in his trembling fingers. His palm, slick with a crimson liquid, glistened in the faint light.

He gasped, recoiling in horror as the realization hit him. His gaze snapped back to the ground, and a strangled cry escaped his throat.

There she was.

His mother.

Her lifeless eyes stared upward, glassy and unseeing, as blood trickled from her mouth, nose, and ears. A dark stain spread from a deep gash across her abdomen, pooling beneath her motionless body.

"No… no, no, no!" Izuku staggered back, shaking his head violently. "This isn't real! This can't be real!"

"If onLy wE werE sTronGer," the doppelganger murmured, its voice soft yet venomous, like a poisonous lullaby. "If oNly we knEw hOw to usE oUr qUirk. We coUlD hAVe saveD heR. She couLD hAve lived. WE kiLLed her."

"N-No!" Izuku's legs buckled, and he fell to his knees, his entire body quaking. "It wasn't me! I didn't—this isn't—"

"IsN't it?" The doppelganger's words cut through his protest, sharp and unforgiving. "wE kIlLed heR, IzUku. WE aRe ReSponsIBle fOR her death."

"No!" Izuku's scream was hoarse, his tears streaking down his face. "It wasn't me! It was that thug! It was that thug that killed her! NOT ME!"

"BuT thaT thUg cAme foR uS, DiD he not?" the doppelganger replied, like a cruel puppeteer playing with its victim. "ThAt mEans we'Re juST as RespoNsiBle iN hEr deaTH as tHe thuG."

Izuku's strength gave out entirely, and he crumpled to the ground, tears spilling onto the blood-stained floor. "Why?" he whispered brokenly, his voice cracking. "Why are you doing this to me?"

The doppelganger's voice shifted, the distortion fading into something chillingly normal. "I don't enjoy it," it said simply. "But you need to understand why we are where we are."

Izuku's tear-filled eyes flicked up to meet its gaze. "What… what do you mean?" he asked with a trembling voice. "W-Who are you?"

The other Izuku smiled, a cruel and bitter curve of the lips. "I am you," it replied, leaning closer. "And you're me."

"What?" Izuku choked out, shaking his head desperately. "No! That's not true! I don't even know you!"

The doppelganger chuckled, the sound dark and hollow. "Oh, but you do, Izuku. You know me better than anyone," it said, the amusement in its tone unmistakable. "I am the part of you that you've buried deep down. The thoughts, the desires, the truths you're too scared to face. I am your deepest, darkest self."

Through his tears, Izuku's expression hardened, his fists clenching. "You're lying! You're the President's doing, aren't you?" he spat in anger. "This is just another one of her tricks to control me! To manipulate me!"

The doppelganger's face remained neutral, its eyes unblinking. "That woman has had enough control over us, don't you think?" it said, a note of disdain creeping into its voice.

It stepped closer, kneeling in front of Izuku. For a moment, the void felt smaller, the air heavier, as if the darkness itself were suffocating him. The doppelganger reached out, its hand resting on Izuku's shoulder.

"She controls us, even when we think we're free," it whispered. "But Izuku, as much as I hate to say this… She has given us a new chance. Together let's build a society where people don't have to suffer like us… Just like Nemuri wanted…"


Midnight draped over the hospital, the day having dragged on for Nemuri like a slow torture. She had barely left Izuku's bedside, fearing that if she looked away, even for a moment, he might vanish. Seeing her distress, Recovery Girl had allowed her to stay the night in the hospital room.

Exhaustion had finally claimed Nemuri. She slumped in her chair, head resting on Izuku's bed, her arms serving as makeshift pillows. Her breaths were soft and steady, unlike the anxiety that had gripped her throughout the day.

This was the scene that greeted Izuku as he stirred awake. His eyes fluttered open, taking in the stark white ceiling and the dimly lit room, moonlight filtering through the window beside his bed. He felt something warm in his right hand and turned to see Nemuri sleeping, her hand lightly grasping his.

Izuku blinked, confusion swirling in his mind. The surroundings were unfamiliar, and a deep weariness tugged at his limbs, yet his mind was oddly alert. His eyes and head ached, and a faint ringing echoed in his ears. He lay there, the quiet hum of the hospital machines his only companion, trying to piece together where he was and how he had ended up here.

Izuku struggled to recall the moments before darkness claimed him. He remembered the sudden burst of blood from every opening in his face during his attempt to tell Nemuri about the President and her involvement in his past. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips as he realized that even though he had escaped her grasp, he was far from free. She still had the power to ruin him, to control him. That pimp lady was right: he had made a deal with the devil, and the devil never let go of its prey.

He turned his head to the right, his gaze softening as he looked at Nemuri sleeping beside him. A small smile tugged at his lips, briefly lifting the weight of his worries. He couldn't comprehend why this woman, who had known him for a mere three months, cared so deeply for him. His heart fluttered with an unfamiliar feeling.

Carefully, Izuku extricated his hand from Nemuri's gentle grasp, not wanting to disturb her sleep. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. The image of his dead mother lying at his feet flashed in his mind, forcing him to shut his eyes tightly.

Shaking his head to rid himself of that horrifying image, Izuku stood up, his body protesting slightly. A sense of restlessness urged him to explore his surroundings. He walked quietly to the door, sliding it open with painstaking care, and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

The first thing that greeted Izuku was a sprawling corridor, its vastness striking him immediately. The wall opposite the hospital room was lined with windows, their glass panes firmly shut. His gaze swept to the right, marveling at how the corridor stretched on endlessly. Where was he, Izuku wondered curiously.

"Welcome to U.A.," came a high pitched voice from his left, answering his unspoken question.

Izuku nearly jumped out of his skin, the sudden voice catching him off guard. He spun around, his gaze landing on a small, furry creature. Confusion washed over him as he took in the sight of what appeared to be a rat.

"Am I a rat? A raccoon? Or maybe a dog?" the creature chirped, its voice sing song and cheerful. "Who cares? Because I am Nezu, Principal of U.A."

"Principal...of...U.A.?" Izuku muttered, his mind slowly processing the words. As comprehension dawned, his eyes widened in shock, and a loud—

"EEEEHHHHHHHHHH!"

—escaped his lips.

"Welcome to U.A., young one," Nezu greeted with a cheerful smile, his paws tucked behind his back.

Izuku didn't respond. He stood frozen, staring straight ahead, his eyes glazed over. A moment later, his body began to tilt backward, and with a soft thud, he hit the floor, lying on his back. His eyes remained open but unfocused, gazing upward at nothing.

"Oh boy," Nezu murmured, his smile fading. "It seems he's gone into shock." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Now, how do I get him back to the bed?"


When Izuku regained consciousness, the dimly lit corridor greeted him once again. His back rested against the cold wall, while the windowed side of the hallway stood before him, moonlight spilling in faint streaks across the floor. He blinked, disoriented. "So that wasn't a dream?" he murmured, disbelief thick in his voice.

"It wasn't," a calm voice replied from his right.

Startled, Izuku turned his head to find himself face-to-face with Principal Nezu. His eyes widened in astonishment. "And you're real too," he said, his tone a muddled mixture of awe and doubt.

Nezu chuckled, his small frame shaking ever so slightly. "I am, young one," he confirmed. "I apologize for not carrying you to your bed. Unfortunately," he gestured at himself with a paw, "I'm not exactly equipped for heavy lifting."

Izuku shifted, sitting up straighter as he adjusted to face Nezu properly. "No, no," he said quickly, his voice soft but earnest. "It's fine. I get it."

"I must admit, you gave Nemuri quite the scare," Nezu added with a warm, indulgent smile.

Izuku nodded, his gaze falling to the floor. His voice was barely above a whisper. "I know," he said, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Did she… worry too much?"

"She arrived here in tears if that answers your question," Nezu said softly.

"Oh." Izuku's chest tightened with guilt. He hadn't meant to cause Nemuri such distress, but the weight of his actions pressed down on him now. He should have been more careful—less reckless. Instead, he had been selfish, oblivious to the emotional strain he was placing on others. She didn't deserve to worry about him, not like that.

He didn't deserve someone's concern in the first place.

"It's fascinating, isn't it?" Nezu mused, his gaze shifting to the left. His small, dark eyes seemed to focus on something beyond the walls, as if he could see past the concrete to where Nemuri lay resting. "The capacity humans have to care for each other, even at their own expense."

Izuku looked up, curious about remark. He studied the Principal's expression, wondering at the deeper meaning behind his words.

"You must mean a great deal to her," Nezu continued, his tone calm like a summer breeze. "For her to come running to U.A. in tears…" He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully before turning his attention back to Izuku. "She hasn't set foot here in over a decade, you know."

Izuku's eyebrows rose slightly. The idea of Nemuri avoiding U.A. for so long intrigued him. "Why?" he asked tentatively, but one could also figure out the inquisitory tone lying beneath.

"Her and I… we had a bit of a falling out," Nezu admitted, his voice carrying an unspoken weight. A fleeting, almost bitter smile graced his lips, though he seemed to mask most of the emotion behind it. "In hindsight, I think I may have come across as too controlling back then. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that people have their own desires, their own paths, in this free world."

Izuku listened intently, his curiosity quietly simmering. The way Nezu spoke about Nemuri, it felt less like a professional reflection and more like the wistful regret of someone who genuinely cared—almost as if a parent recalling a misunderstanding with their child.

"May I ask something?" Nezu suddenly queried, his sharp gaze fixing on Izuku with a curious gleam.

"Yeah, sure," Izuku said, nodding slightly.

"What caused such… an uncanny amount of blood loss?"

Izuku's eyes instinctively dropped to the floor, and a heavy sigh slipped past his lips. "I was trying to tell her about my past… about someone deeply tied to it."

Nezu chuckled, the sound lighthearted but tinged with skepticism. "Come now," he said with a small wave of his paw, "just sharing your past couldn't possibly have caused such a medical emergency."

"Not unless you're me," Izuku replied with a wry smile, his attempt at humor thin but genuine.

Nezu tilted his head, his beady eyes glinting with intrigue. "And who are you, young one?"

Izuku shifted, bracing his hand against the wall as he slowly rose to his feet. He drew in a steadying breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on his shoulders. Finally, he met Nezu's gaze head-on, unflinching, and declared, "I am Izuku Midoriya. Or, more popularly known as Night Crawler."

For a moment, silence hung in the air like a held breath. Nezu blinked, his expression uncharacteristically stunned. "What?"


Chapter End


Next Chapter: How does Nezu react to Izuku's out-of-nowhere confession? Find out next chapter...


Author's Note: I apologize for such a short chapter. This was all I could write in the past week.

I apologize.