Chapter Text
Izuku was drowning.
The water was everywhere. Cold and unforgiving, it rushed around him, pushing him further down the depths, and no matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t resurface.
And he couldn’t breathe. He kicked desperately, but to no avail; his limbs felt heavier than usual, and his head was full of fog. His lungs had taken in water. His eyes stung. His chest burned.
There were chains wrapped around his throat and chest. Not metaphorically, but real, metal chains, and no matter how much he clawed at them, he just couldn’t get them off. His fingers were numb, and any train of thought he may have had had been derailed long ago.
I-I can’t—
—can’t breathe—
—c-can’t...breathe—!
He couldn’t move. The rivers up here in the mountains were unforgiving in every way possible, the water strong, cold, and almost impossibly deep.
Cold...it’s too cold… !
Dangit, dangit, dangit….! he mentally shrieked, gritting his teeth and yanking hard at the chains again, but his limbs wouldn’t (couldn’t) respond to his commands anymore. He was being dragged under by whatever villain had attacked him, further and further away from the surface, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it.
On instinct, he sucked in a deep breath—of water, unfortunately. Bad idea. He choked a desperate sob—even though it was more like a cough than a sob—and kicked his feet helplessly.
I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe—!
It’s pointless.
The thought came so suddenly and out-of-nowhere that, for a moment, he froze.
It’s pointless now.
And then, Izuku kicked again, struggling against the chains.
You can’t do anything. It’s too late.
Izuku gritted his teeth. Black began flooding his vision, and he could feel his consciousness waning, could feel an inescapable black closing in on him, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t shake it. Couldn’t escape it.
It’s pointless.
Give up.
C’mon, just give up already.
Won’t it be easier once you’re dead?
Stop fighting.
It’s too late.
Give up.
It’s pointless.
No one’d miss you anyway.
His chest tightened. His vision darkened. The words were as inescapable as the water, and he couldn’t ignore them.
I wonder…
...This…
...This is…
...The end, right…?
His body went limp, and he released the chains around his throat, which tightened again immediately. His lungs burned; the icy water felt like hundreds of tiny daggers against his skin.
...Would…
...Would anyone even care…
...If I suddenly wasn’t here anymore…?
His eyes drifted shut, tears of frustration and hopelessness mingling with the saltwater.
I...
Black finally grabbed hold of him and dragged him under.
...don’t know anymore...
A sudden jolt shocked him awake, and Izuku shot upright, gasping heavily, both hands against his throat. His chest ached horribly, but not as horribly as a few seconds ago, and he could breathe, which was new. His clothes were dry, too, which logically shouldn’t be right, considering he’d been underwater just a few seconds ago.
When he found his bearings, he rose to his feet shakily and took in his surroundings. Around him was an endless landscape of pure, solid white. There was white above him, white below him, and white surrounding him on all sides. No matter where he looked, it was all white, and nothing else.
That’s...that’s weird…
There was no door. No entrance. No exit. Just white. He couldn’t tell floor from ceiling. It was like he was suspended in mid-air, but the white felt somehow firm beneath his feet.
...Where am I?
He stared at the white for a long, long time, trying (and failing) to make sense of it.
And then, a sudden sinking feeling overwhelmed him, and his eyes widened in horror.
“...I’m dead,” he realized, something in his stomach churning. “I-I’m...I’m dead.”
“Yep, sounds about right. But it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
Izuku whirled around towards the voice.
Across from him, in the white nothingness, stood a young boy. A young boy with bright green hair, bright green eyes, face sprinkled with freckles, and scars along the length of his arm.
Izuku took a step back in shock, his breath catching in his throat.
He felt like he was looking straight into a mirror. This boy...was another him. There was no doubt about it. Absolutely no doubt. Aside from their mirrored appearances, they were wearing the same clothes, too (the second model of Izuku’s hero costume). The only thing that was different was the look on their faces. While Izuku looked the pure definition of “horrified,” this other him looked... confident, more snide, and he was smirking, almost fiendishly.
“...W-Who are you?” Izuku asked sharply. “Where am I?”
The other him (but still not him) shrugged. “Like I said, it’s complicated,” he said breezily, “but that’s why I’m here to explain things. It’s...kinda tricky, though.” Him-But-Not-Him rubbed the back of his neck idly, “so, hear me out, ‘kay?”
Izuku swallowed thickly, but he didn’t exactly not want to know what was going on, so he just nodded shakily.
Not-Him clapped his hands together cheerfully, like he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life. “Anyways, let’s start from the beginning,” chirped Not-Him. “The very, VERY beginning. To start things off—and I’m just gonna be blunt here—you’re not as Quirkless as you thought you were.”
Izuku only blinked at him. “...W-What are you talking about?” he asked, suddenly very confused. “B-But...no, that’s not right. I was born Quirkless. The pinky joint, I-I have two of them—”
“Well, your Quirk isn’t exactly a physical ability—” (Not-Him made quotation marks with his fingers), “—so it makes sense why your body wouldn’t be physically affected by it. Your Quirk is probably the rarest out there, actually, a Quirk that comes around every couple centuries by complete chance. It can’t be passed down through generations, either. It just sort of…” Not-Him gestured at nothing with his hands for a moment or two, “...Exists. Yep, that’s it!”
Izuku bit his lip.
Not-Him swung around, pointing a finger at Izuku proudly. “Your Quirk is called Second Chance!” proclaimed Not-Him with a wide grin. “When you die, you can be revived only once by this Quirk. Sort of like a power-up in Super Mario. Nothing really changes except that you don’t die the next time you run into a bad guy.”
“S-So...you mean…” Izuku looked around at the white nothingness, then met eyes with his double again. “I-I’m...I’m actually dead.”
Not-Him frowned suddenly, lowering his arm and cocking his head. “Well, yeah,” Not-Him said. “That’s what I just said, right?”
Izuku took in a long, shuddering breath. He was dead. He was literally dead. And he wasn’t Quirkless, either. These were both ground-breaking realizations (the former much more so than the latter), and it was a lot to try and take in all at once.
Not-Him sighed heavily and shrugged. “...Well, you can go back now, y’know, to the land of the living or whatever,” said Not-Him idly. “Like I said, you’re dead, but your Quirk gives you another go at life.”
This was a lot. A lot. But Izuku didn’t really have any reason to not go back (he was dead, anyways), so he only swallowed thickly and nodded to his double.
Not-Him grinned again. “Alright!” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll send you back to your body! Oh, but wait…” He frowned suddenly, touching his chin with a gloved hand. “There’s a side-effect of the Quirk,” he said, more to himself than anything. “Ohhh boy, I probably should have started with this…”
“W-Wait, what kind of side-effect?” Izuku asked urgently.
Not-Him looked at him and shook his head. “As much as I’d love to tell you, we’re out of time here,” he said, glancing down at his wrist at an imaginary watch, “so it looks like you’ll just have to find out on your own.”
“W-Wait a second!” Izuku shouted, reaching out, but then, a crack broke the white, like some unfortunate kid had hit a window with a baseball. The cracks spread like a spider’s web until, finally, the world around him shattered.
It just... shattered, like glass.
Izuku put his arms up in front of his face to shield himself, but the white shards vanished as soon as they broke apart. There was a clatter and a crack, like a bolt of lightning, and then, silence. Complete, total, overwhelming silence.
He didn’t dare move for the longest time.
And then, Izuku lowered his arms and opened his eyes. Not-Him and the white room of nothingness was gone, replaced by a gray, cold, gloomy atmosphere. Rain fell from dark clouds overhead, and the grass was wet beneath his feet.
“W-What just happened…?” Izuku murmured to himself, looking around and trying to determine just where he was.
And then, he noticed a group of people, dressed in black, standing just a little ways away. They were too far away for him to tell whether or not he knew them, but close enough for him to determine that it was a large group, made up of maybe twenty-some people.
Izuku watched for yet another moment, not quite knowing what to do.
And then, he took a step forward.
Then another.
And another.
And another.
Everything felt surreal, like something out of a dream, but also strangely real . The wet grass sank with his footsteps. He felt the chill of the air, the drops of rainwater against his head.
Real, but not real both at once. He didn’t know how to describe it, really.
He kept walking.
Not-Him’s words bounced around in his head, but Izuku didn’t really know what to make of them. Side-effect? What side-effect? Was this the side-effect, or was he back? And if he was back, why here and not where he’d “died”?
When he got close enough to the figures clad in black, he realized with a start that he recognized every single person in the group. The majority of them were made up of his classmates, all nineteen of them, but his mom was there, too, and so was All Might, and Aizawa, and his other teachers at U.A.
And they were all wearing black. Dark, solid black. Though it was raining, no one held an umbrella.
Izuku spotted Ochako in the crowd, staring onwards at something he couldn’t see, and he sprinted towards her urgently. “Uraraka!” he called, his feet pounding against the wet grass. “What’s going on?”
Ochako didn’t answer. Her head was bowed, hands fisting the hem of her black dress, brown hair behind her head in a very stiff bun. Tears glistened in her eyes and streamed down her face, and Izuku swallowed thickly, a sharp pain stabbing his chest.
“Uraraka, what’s wrong?” he asked, feeling more frantic and helpless by the moment. “Uraraka, hey...”
She still didn’t look at him, staring ahead with teary eyes. Finally, although he didn’t want to, he followed her gaze.
He froze, his eyes going wide.
There was a coffin. A black, wooden coffin, the top covered in white flowers. And at the edge of the coffin was a single ornate frame, encasing a picture.
A picture of him.
A recent picture of himself, judging by the scars on his hand. In the photo, he was beaming brightly, making a peace sign with two fingers. He couldn’t actually remember taking the picture, not that it mattered.
I’m…
...Dead?
(A small part of his mind added “still,” but he ignored this.)
“Uraraka, I’m fine!” Izuku said loudly, spinning around to face her again. She didn’t look at him, her tears joining the rain as they splashed against the ground at her feet. “I’m fine, Uraraka! Everyone! I’m right here!”
He reached out to touch her shoulder.
But his hand went straight through her, like he was some kind of a ghost.
He gasped and withdrew his hand like he’d been burned, clutching his wrist. What the…? He looked up. Ochako kept the same posture, only now, her tears were beginning to increase.
“Uraraka,” Izuku tried again, but his words still garnered no reaction.
She can’t...she can’t see me?
He looked around. Now that he thought about it, no one had acknowledged his presence.
Wait, so... no one can see me?
After a long, long time, Aizawa stepped forward. Izuku couldn’t see his face, but his homeroom teacher’s voice was uncharacteristically hoarse when he spoke.
“Izuku Midoriya...a student of U.A., Class 1-A, first year,” Aizawa said quietly. “I’m sorry...that this happened to one so young.”
“Wait, no!” Izuku shouted, racing forward. “I’m alive! I’m here, I’m okay!!”
He couldn’t stand this. He couldn’t stand seeing everyone so down, so upset, especially when he was alive, when he was literally right in front of them.
But his shouts changed nothing, and one by one, his eyes scanned the crowd:
Iida, his teeth gritted tightly.
Tokoyami, Dark Shadow hovering over his head sorrowfully.
Todoroki, staring like he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing, his balled fists trembling at his sides.
Yaoyorozu, trying in vain to comfort a sobbing Mina while trying to keep her own composure intact.
Kirishima, tears rolling down his face.
Kaminari, squeezing his eyes shut to try and hold back his own tears (to no avail) while Jiro did the same (also to no avail). His arm was wrapped around her trembling shoulders.
Sero was staring at the ground, his expression unreadable.
Shoji was using one of his wing-like appendages as an umbrella for Mineta, who was openly sobbing and rubbing his face with his hands constantly. Shoji wasn’t much different.
Sato and Koda stood side-by-side, trembling.
Ochako’s tears never once slowed.
Aoyama looked uncharacteristically mournful, biting his lip while tears glistened in his eyes.
Bakugō stared ahead, his teeth gritted tightly and hands balled into shaking fists. He looked angry, as per usual, but Izuku had known him long enough to tell that it wasn’t anger, but rather...regret.
Tsuyu’s expression was unreadable, but tears rolled off her cheeks.
Ojiro’s shoulders shook.
Hagakure was as invisible as always, but Izuku could hear her choked sobs.
Aizawa’s expression was flat. If Izuku didn’t know any better, he would’ve said that there was no emotion on his teacher’s face at all. But Izuku, of course, knew better.
His mother...Izuku’s mother was... broken. He’d never seen her like this before, sobbing so openly with her head buried in her hands, her entire body trembling. His breath caught in his throat, and he wanted so badly to reach out and do something, but when he tried, his fingers went right through her, just like they had with Ochako.
His presence... wasn’t there.
And All Might. He was there, too, and he wasn’t smiling. Actually, Izuku couldn’t recall a time when his mentor had looked more... distraught. It was alarming, actually. Really, truly alarming.
“No…” Izuku whispered, feeling tears burn his own eyes. “Y-You guys...please...stop this…”
Nothing changed. Nothing.
“P-Please...d-don’t...” Izuku choked.
He reached out and touched Ochako’s shoulder one final time, just in case something had changed, but this time, when he touched her, the spot where his fingers had reached cracked, just like earlier in the white nothingness. The cracks spread throughout the scene, and a moment later, the world shattered.
Izuku put up his arms again out of habit, but as before, the shards vanished immediately, and at length, Izuku lowered his guard. The funeral scene was gone, and now, he was standing in his classroom at U.A. Sunlight streamed through open windows, and nineteen of twenty seats were taken by his classmates.
The only person missing from this picture was Izuku.
“H-Hello?” he tried again, but as before, nothing changed. He was still invisible to them; they couldn’t hear him nor could they see him, and while he could hear and see them, he couldn’t interact with them.
The classroom’s door slammed opened, and Aizawa walked inside. The students didn’t look up at him, didn’t say a word, just continued staring down at their desks, at their hands, anywhere but at their teacher.
Aizawa turned, faced the room, and didn’t say anything for a long, long time.
“...There are a few things we’re going to go over before we start your regular classes,” he said with forced professionalism. “Now, if you—”
Ochako suddenly pushed back her chair and got to her feet, her hands planted firmly against her desk. Instantly, all eyes in the room were on her—Izuku’s eyes included—and she looked up at Aizawa, her expression unreadable.
“C-Can I go to the nurse’s office?” she asked. “I-I...I have a headache.”
Aizawa paused, then nodded, already scrawling out a hall pass. She made her way to the front of the class, and he quickly slipped her the piece of paper. “Give this to the old lady once you get there, alright?”
Ochako nodded shakily and left the classroom, closing the door softly behind her. Izuku swallowed thickly, waited a beat, then hurried forward to follow her.
She’d closed the door behind her, and when he reached out and tried grasping the handle, his hand went through it, just as it had with everything else. He blinked, hesitated, then walked straight through it. In an instant, he was in the hallway, Ochako walking in the opposite direction.
He took a breath, steeled himself, and followed her.
She’s not heading for the nurse’s office, Izuku realized. He’d been in Recovery Girl’s office enough times to know exactly how to get to it. She’s going in the opposite direction...
Ochako started out slow, maintaining a steady pace.
And then, that slow, steady pace became a brisk walk, and then, that brisk walk became a jog, and Izuku hurried after her.
If she’s not going to the nurse’s office…
...Then where?
No one else was around. The halls were silent, the rest of the U.A. students in their classrooms where they belonged as Ochako ran, Izuku struggling to keep up with her, worry eating away at him.
Finally, at long last, Ochako stopped in the middle of a dimly lit hallway all the way on the other side of the school. Izuku stopped a few feet behind her, breathing heavily, trying to get his breath back.
“Uraraka,” he panted, but she couldn’t hear him, and he hadn’t been expecting her to.
Despite her sprint, Ochako didn’t seem winded whatsoever. She stood in the shadowy hallway, stiff as a board, and Izuku watched her, wanting to say something and being helpless to do so.
And then, Ochako let out a choked sob and buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders trembled, and she stumbled to the side, hitting the wall back-first before sinking to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees and burying her face against them.
She was sobbing. Openly, completely sobbing. Hard. The sounds were guttural, and Izuku wanted nothing more than to reach out, to put his hand on her shoulder, but he knew that wouldn’t work. He knew there was nothing he could do.
“Uraraka…” Izuku said stupidly, his chest aching. He wasn’t quite sure why, but this...hurt. A lot. “Uraraka, d-don’t—”
“Uraraka.”
Izuku spun around; there stood Iida, looking at Ochako with a pained look in his eyes. Ochako lifted her tear-stained face to stare at him, her breaths shuddering in her throat.
“I-I-Iida,” she choked brokenly, rubbing her eyes with her forearm. “I-I-I’m s-s-sorry, I-I just…”
Iida swallowed thickly, and then, he held out his arms towards her. She looked at him for a moment or two, and then, she kicked off the ground and leapt into his embrace, her tears falling with fresh vigor.
“I can’t do it, Iida!” Ochako sobbed and screamed both at once, her shoulders shaking even harder. “I c-c-can’t do it! E-Every t-time...e-every time I l-look around, I-I just...I c-can’t... I c-c-can’t—”
Iida took in a long, shuddering breath. “I...I know.”
“I want him back!” Ochako screamed, burying her face in her friend’s shoulder. “I WANT HIM BACK, IIDA!! I...I j-just...I-I just...w-want my friend b-back…”
Iida swallowed again, his arms tightening around her. “I know,” he said thickly, fighting to keep his composure intact (and he failed miserably). “I know. I...I want him back, too.”
Izuku took one step backwards, then another. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. Seeing Ochako like this, seeing Iida like this, it was wrong. He didn’t want to see them like this. They were his friends, his closest friends, and...and…
“Please stop,” Izuku whispered, but nothing changed.
The world shattered around him again. Izuku was used to it by now, so he didn’t even bother shielding himself. This time, the shards gave way to a dark room; the boys’ locker room, Izuku realized, the windows closed and the lights turned off.
In the room stood a single person: Bakugō, all alone, sparks crackling on his palms.
“Kacchan?” Izuku whispered, not expecting an answer. “W-What…?”
There was a beat.
And then, Bakugō swore loudly and swung around, punching the wall; an explosion erupted from his palm.
“STUPID DEKU!!” Bakugō yelled through gritted teeth, punching the wall again, then again, and then again. “WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT!? WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST... LEAVE LIKE THAT!?”
Izuku could only watch, horrified. “K-Kacchan,” he choked again, but he knew by now that words did absolutely nothing.
“GRAAAH!!” Bakugō screeched, punching the wall once more. “YOU IDIOT! YOU FRICKIN’ IDIOT, DEKU!! WHAT THE HELL MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN GO DYING ON EVERYONE LIKE THAT, HUH!?”
One explosion after the other fired from his palms, and Izuku could do nothing— nothing —but watch.
And it hurt. A lot.
Bakugō gave the wall one final punch, and then, he sank to his knees, resting his forehead against the charred wall of the locker room. His breaths came in raggedly, and something that probably wasn’t sweat rolled down his face.
Before Izuku could react, though the world shattered once more, and a new scene played.
“...It’s quiet in here,” Kaminari murmured, “without Midoriya.”
He was in Class 1-A again, only now, the only students there were Kaminari, Sero, Ojiro, Kirishima, Tsuyu, Shoji, Koda, Sato, Aoyama and Mineta. Izuku didn’t know where the rest of his classmates were, and he didn’t really have the resources to find out, either.
“Yeah, I know,” said Kirishima quietly, a former shell of his usual flamboyant self. The entire classroom was encased with a tangible sorrow, and the tension was so thick it’d take a chainsaw to cut through it. “It’s...it’s really, really weird...without Midoriya.”
There was a pause of uncomfortable silence.
“Midoriya sure was insane,” Sero breathed, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. “Do you guys remember the USJ?”
“When Shigaraki and those guys attacked?” Sato said, though he didn’t need the confirmation. “Yeah, I remember...I wasn’t there to see what Midoriya did, but you guys told me the basic gist of what happened.”
Tsuyu, looking uncharacteristically downhearted, stared at her desk like it’d betrayed her somehow. “He saved us when we were about to get crushed by Shigaraki’s monster,” she murmured. “While he didn’t actually take down the monster, he bought just enough time for All Might to get there.”
Mineta nodded fervently in agreement. “Midoriya was so cool!” Mineta said, punching the air as tears glistened in his eyes.
“And not just that,” said Shoji, “but, out of all of us here...I believe he was the most heroic.”
The rest of the present students nodded solemnly. Not one person said otherwise.
“You’re right,” said Ojiro quietly. “I mean, it takes a lot...to lay down your life for your friends. It...it really takes a special kind of person.”
“He was amazing,” said Aoyama, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his face on his hands.
“Yeah, he really was something special,” said Kaminari, his breath catching in his throat. “I just...thinking about it, I-I mean…” Kaminari’s voice broke, and he slapped his palm to his forehead. “D-Dangit, man, this sucks,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “This r-really sucks.”
Tsuyu closed her eyes and looked away; Kirishima leaned his head back, squeezing his eyes shut tightly; Sero mumbled something about the nurse’s office and sprinted out of the room; Ojiro’s posture remained the same, but his teeth were clenched; Koda didn’t say anything, but he was crying silently; Shoji stood abruptly and followed Sero; Aoyama didn’t move, but something flickered in his eyes, like sorrow, and Mineta face-planted the table with a muffled scream.
“You guys…” Izuku whispered.
The world shattered yet again, and this time, Izuku was outdoors, standing on a grassy hilltop as the sun set beyond the horizon. A gentle but crisp breeze swept through the countryside.
Todoroki stood across from him, staring at a stone monument. Carved into the gray stone, words read In Loving Memory: Izuku Midoriya, 15. You Live On in Our Hearts, and Izuku swallowed thickly before shifting his gaze back to Todoroki. ,
Todoroki stood silently for a long while, staring intently at the grave.
And then, he finally spoke.
“...It...It feels pretty messed up, being here,” Todoroki began, his voice low. “I’m...not very good with sentiment, so...I’ll...I’ll just get to my point.”
Todoroki took a deep breath and shut his eyes momentarily.
“...Thank you, Midoriya,” he said. “I...I don’t think I ever had the opportunity to tell you, but thank you. What you did for me, during the Sports Festival...you changed the way I viewed the world, and how I viewed myself. If it wasn’t for you...honestly...it terrifies me, to think of the person I might’ve become.”
Todoroki looked down at his shoes for a moment or two.
“...So...thank you,” Todoroki said. “Thanks, for everything, Midoriya.”
Todoroki… Izuku swallowed, then took in a deep, shaky breath. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to see his friends like this, and he wanted to do something, to say something, so badly…
There were footsteps a little ways off, followed by a voice. “Todoroki?”
Todoroki turned, as did Izuku; Yaoyorozu stared at the only classmate she could see, a small bouquet of white flowers held between her hands.
“Yaoyorozu,” Todoroki greeted formally over his shoulder. He then turned back to the grave, and Yaoyorozu moved to stand beside him.
There was a long beat, the silence broken only by the sound of the wind as it rustled the grass.
“...If I’m completely honest, I’m...having a hard time grasping the reality,” Yaoyorozu began quietly, casting her gaze upwards towards the orange-yellow sky. “I wasn’t very close to Midoriya, but...he was still a classmate. A friend. Someone I could trust. And...him just not being here...it doesn’t even seem real.”
Todoroki exhaled sharply through his nose and nodded. “...I know what you mean,” he said. “Midoriya...he was a great friend, an amazing friend, and...I guess...I haven’t really grasped the reality of this, either.”
Yaoyorozu bit her lip, then stepped forward, kneeling at the grave and setting the flowers gently before it. She didn’t make a move to get up after that, settling her hands on her lap.
“...I could have done something,” she said, her hands balling into fists against her legs. “I could...I could have done something, but... but…”
Tears splashed against her knuckles, and she shook her head.
“I could have done something,” she repeated harshly. “Something, anything... I could’ve... I could’ve…”
She ducked her head, her shoulders hunched.
“We’re heroes,” she said, her voice remaining steady even as her hands shook. “We’re supposed to be heroes, and I...I couldn’t do anything, when it came down to it. I couldn’t even save my own classmate who was right in front of me, how could I possibly hope to save anyone else?”
“No, it’s not your fault!” Izuku shouted, rushing forward even though he knew his presence didn’t make a difference here. “Todoroki, tell her! Tell her it wasn’t her fault! Todoroki—!”
He whirled around to face his friend, then froze, the words dying in the back of his throat.
A single tear cascaded down Todoroki’s face, dripped off his chin, and splashed into the grass below.
“...I know,” Todoroki murmured, casting his gaze downwards. “...I feel the same way.”
Izuku took in a deep, shuddering breath, shaking his head feverishly. “No,” he whispered, racing forward. “No, no, no! Todoroki, it wasn’t —it wasn’t—!” He reached out, trying to grasp Todoroki’s shoulders and shake him, because no, no, no, it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but of course, his hands went straight through Todoroki, just as they had with everyone else.
He hated this. He hated not being able to stop this...this whatever it was. He felt helpless, useless, powerless, and everything in between.
Before he even registered what had happened, the scene shifted, and he wasn’t in the U.A. anymore, but rather in his own home, more specifically the small little dining area in the kitchen.
He saw his mother working, stirring a pot of something over the stovetop.
“Mom!” Izuku called out of habit, and then remembered—not for the first time and probably not for the last—that she couldn’t hear him. After that, he just watched, completely silent, as she continued preparing what he assumed was dinner.
Izuku felt overwhelmed, not just by the knowledge that he was actually dead and not Quirkless, but also with everything else he’d seen today. His friends, in pain, crying, hurt, blaming themselves...it was hard. It was really hard, and he wanted it to stop, right now, before it got any worse.
His mother reached over and grabbed two plates from the cupboard.
She set the table for two.
She dished up two servings of katsudon.
Two. Just like always.
Izuku swallowed thickly.
Her eyes were rimmed red, and there were dark, bruise-like shadows beneath them. She was dishevelled, more dishevelled than Izuku had ever seen her, and he bit his lip, wanting, longing, to do something.
She sat down. The chair across from her remained empty. She stared at this empty space for a long time, her eyes exhausted, her shoulders slumped.
And then, she started crying. It wasn’t the first time Izuku had seen his mother cry, but it was the first time he’d seen her this broken.
“I-I-I’m s-sorry, Izuku!” she cried between heart-wrenching sobs, burying her face in her hands. “I’m s-s-s-sorry, I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry—” Her voice broke off as her sobs grew more ardent, more gut-wrenching, and Izuku felt vaguely like he was being stabbed repeatedly in the heart.
“N-No, i-it’s okay, Mom,” Izuku choked, his own eyes burning. “I-It’s okay, d-don’t cry…”
But his words had no effect. All he could do was stand there, unable to say anything or do anything, wishing the scene would just shatter already, because he couldn’t stand seeing his mother like this, so broken and hurt.
The scene didn’t shatter nearly fast enough, but it did indeed shatter, and Izuku was back at the U.A., beams of bright sunlight streaming through windows that lined the long hallway.
Jiro was striding down said hallway, her face stoic. She was walking briskly, with purpose, her fists clenched and swaying at her sides with every step.
Izuku opened his mouth to call out to her, stopped, remembered, and then settled for following her instead. She didn’t seem to be going anywhere in particular; just walking, walking, with her eyes staring straight ahead at nothing, her posture stiff, almost like a robot.
“Jiro!”
Jiro froze and spun around, anger taking place of her previous stoic expression. “What?” she snapped; Tokoyami, Mina, and Hagakure stopped dead in their tracks, a mere five feet away from her.
“Jiro…” Hagakure began, taking another step forward. “A-Are...are you okay?”
Jiro snapped her teeth together with an audible click. “Do you really think any of us are okay right now?” she snarled, and Hagakure jumped, retracing her step.
“I-I’m sorry,” Hagakure stammered, twisting her shoe into the ground. “T-That was a stupid question…but, Jiro...you’re...you’re taking this super hard, and...we’re...we’re worried about you.”
Mina nodded fervently; Tokoyami gave one, curt nod in his own agreement.
Izuku’s gaze shifted to Jiro. Why would she…?
Oh.
Oh.
Now he remembered. His memories of what had happened leaving up to his “death” were hazy at points, but now, something became obvious to him. He realized. He remembered.
“It’s my fault,” Jiro spat.
Tokoyami, Hagakure, and Mina only stared at her. “What?” Mina ventured. “W-What do you mean it’s your fault? I-It’s not your fault, Jiro.”
“It is my fault!” Jiro exploded. “It’s my fault Midoriya’s de…!” She stopped short, her entire body going rigid. “It’s my fault,” she repeated, calming down considerably (though not entirely).
Mina shook her head frantically. “N-No it’s not!” Mina argued, surging forward. “Jiro, don’t say that! It’s not your fault! It can’t be your fault!”
“It is!” Jiro yelled, her fury returning in an instant. “I was the one who was supposed to be on look-out! Me! Not anyone else, me!”
“You couldn’t hear it from under the water!” Mina countered. “It’s not your fault!”
“Yes, it is!” Jiro shouted again, more furious than Izuku had ever seen her before. “Not only did I not notice the villain, but…!”
She stopped mid-rant and lowered her head, her fists shaking with a combination of anger, regret, and sorrow.
“...The villain was aiming for me!” Jiro screeched finally. “It was trying to grab me and drag me underwater, but Midoriya noticed it, and—”
And she stopped again, her voice cracking.
“Why?” Jiro murmured, suddenly very quiet. “Why? No matter what...no matter how dangerous it is...even when he knows...even when he knew that it...it wouldn’t turn out right for himself in the end...why...why... why…?”
Mina sniffed, tears pooling in her eyes.
“Why didn’t I notice it!?” Jiro exploded, though now, she was talking to herself more than to her friends. “Why, why, why, why, why!? Midoriya noticed it, so why didn’t I!?”
“It’s not your fault, Jiro!” said Hagakure, shaking her head feverishly; tears sprinkled everywhere. “I-If it’s your fault, t-then...then it’s just as much our fault! W-We...we didn’t...we c-couldn’t help Midoriya, either…”
Tokoyami exhaled slowly. “...I do not think Midoriya would want you to blame yourself,” he told Jiro after a long, long beat of silence. “In fact...I do not think Midoriya would want any of us to blame ourselves.”
Jiro bit her lip, tears dripping off her face. “...Well,” she said harshly, “Midoriya’s not here right now, is he?”
Silence. Intense, thick silence, as Jiro’s words bounced off the walls and echoed back at them. After that, Jiro turned sharply and kept walking down the hallway, towards an unknown destination.
Mina made a move to follow her, but Tokoyami’s hand landed on her shoulder. “...Leave her be,” Tokoyami said. “This...this is hard for all of us.”
Mina looked at Jiro’s departing figure, then nodded feverishly, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands. She, Tokoyami, and Hagakure left in the opposite direction, back down the hallway from whence they’d come.
Izuku didn’t follow either party. He stood there, alone, engulfed in his own thoughts. He didn’t understand. The Not-Him had told him that his Quirk allowed him to come back once after death, to have a second chance, so why...why couldn’t anyone see him? Was this the side-effect Not-Him hadn’t had the chance to explain? Or was it something different?
Izuku didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to find out; the walls of the hallway shattered, giving way to a new room—one Izuku quickly recognized as the Teacher’s Lounge.
Sitting across from each other on opposite couches were Aizawa and Present Mic, Aizawa going through a stack of paper while Present Mic looked idly in the other direction, his elbow on the arm of the couch and his chin resting on his knuckles.
“...The 1-A students stopped participating in class,” Mic said after a few moments. “There are a few of ‘em that try, but in the end...they just give up, y’know?”
Aizawa nodded shortly.
“...And I’m not sayin’ I blame ‘em, either,” Mic went on defensively. “It’s completely natural. It just...it sucks that these kids have to go through this.”
Aizawa nodded again, and then, he pulled a single sheet of paper from his stack and passed it across the coffee table to Mic. Mic took the sheet and looked it over.
“The villain called himself Abyss,” Aizawa told him as he read the document. “Other than that, the police don’t know anything about his past, or his true identity.”
“He’s not very well-known,” Mic said after a few moments. “This is the first I’m hearing of ‘im, actually. What does he want? What’s his goal?”
“Nothing,” Aizawa said darkly. “He does it for his own sick kicks, apparently. He’s evaded custody up until now, too, so no one’s been able to stop him.”
Mic stopped, the piece of paper slipping through his hands. “Wait,” he said, leaning forward, something like murderous hatred gleaming in his eyes. “You mean to tell me that he murdered a fifteen year old boy just for the fun of it?”
Aizawa didn’t answer, but his lack of response told Mic all he needed to know. The man shot to his feet and marched, feet pounding, towards the door.
“He’s on death row now, Mic,” Aizawa said pointedly. “You can’t fight him.”
“Watch me.”
“Mic.”
Mic stopped with a low growl and spun around. “You’re taking this all in stride, aren’t you?” he snapped accusingly. “Does it not bother you that one of your students was murd—”
“What are you talking about?” Aizawa ground out in a voice so low and threatening that Mic snapped his mouth shut instantly. “Do you seriously believe I’m not just as upset about this as the rest of us?”
Mic backed down immediately. “Sorry, Eraser,” he said, putting up open-palmed hands. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Aizawa sighed heavily, setting his papers down on the desk. “It’s not your fault,” he said, and that was it.
Mic sighed, then crossed the room and sat down on the couch again, folding his hands together. “...Mortal peril, danger, death...it’s all part of being a hero,” Mic said quietly. “You practically sign up for it. But...Midoriya...he was just a kid, you know? I mean, it would still be horrible if it happened to anyone else, but... man.”
Aizawa didn’t respond.
“I haven’t seen All Might around recently,” Mic said out of the blue.
“He’s taking some off-time,” was Aizawa’s simple answer. “He said he’d be back, but he didn’t say when.”
Izuku blinked and swallowed. Before Aizawa or Mic had the chance to say anything else, the world shattered once again, and Izuku was swept elsewhere.
He was back at the grave. His grave, as weird as that sounded, even to himself. But unlike the last time, Todoroki and Yaoyorozu were gone, and the sun had long since set, bright stars hanging in the dark sky overhead.
Standing before the grave was All Might, in his “true” form, and he looked at the stone monument with an unreadable expression.
Izuku didn’t even try calling out this time. He knew by now that it would make no difference. Instead, he walked forward a few steps, so that he was standing a mere three feet from his mentor.
All Might didn’t say nor do anything for the longest of times.
But when that longest of times passed, All Might took in a breath and spoke.
“...Young Midoriya...I would like to apologize,” he said in a quiet voice, and already, Izuku could sense the guilt, the regret. Izuku opened his mouth to say that no, he didn’t need to apologize, and then stopped at the last second.
“...There are a few things I’d like to apologize for, actually,” All Might said, his voice wavering this time. “First...I’m...I’m sorry I wasn’t there. To save you, that is.”
Izuku bit his lip.
“When I heard what’d happened, honestly...I couldn’t believe it,” All Might went on. “I thought it was a joke. I didn’t want to believe it, and yet…”
There was a long pause.
“...Second,” All Might changed the subject, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better mentor. Honestly, I didn’t know anything about it, what it meant to guide somebody, let alone someone as reckless and determined as myself. I know my fumblings caused you pain, and I’m sorry.”
There was a second long pause.
“...That’s not all I’m here for,” All Might said, like an afterthought. “...I don’t know if I ever told you this—my memory isn’t exactly the best, unfortunately—but I’m proud of you. I’m sincerely, honestly proud of you, Young Midoriya, for all you did and for all you stood for. And I hope you realized this, but I never once regretted making you my successor. And...that hasn’t changed. Even now, that hasn’t changed.”
Izuku felt like crying, not for the first time.
“...You were braver than most,” All Might went on, “with a heart of pure gold. Your determination certainly was admirable, and your selflessness...well...I don’t think I even need to say it.”
All Might inhaled and exhaled slowly.
“...I don’t think I ever mentioned this, either, Young Midoriya, but...you became something of a son to me,” he went on, even quieter than before. “And...I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, not just as a hero, but as your mentor, too. I’m...sorry. I failed you.”
All Might’s voice cracked at this, and Izuku suddenly couldn’t hold back.
“It’s not your fault!” he shouted desperately, hoping, praying for All Might to hear him, even though no one else could. “It’s not your fault! Don’t think that, please, don’t think that!”
But All Might made no indication that he’d heard him, and suddenly, Izuku couldn’t take it anymore. His bottled up feelings came bubbling to the surface all at once, and he spun around and bolted, charging full-speed through the grass, his feet pounding against the ground.
No, no, no, no, no—!
He gritted his teeth, his hands balling into fists as he pummelled on.
This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this can’t be real—!
The wind whistled through the air around him, stinging his skin, not that he cared.
Everyone...!
...I’m so sorry...!
I’m sorry!
I’m sorry!
I’m sorry!
He kept running, his lungs burning.
I’m sorry I made you cry! I’m sorry I didn’t fight back harder! I’m sorry I hurt you! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!
Ochako, crying into Iida’s shoulder. Yaoyorozu and Todoroki, blaming themselves. His mother, crying her eyes out. Kirishima and Kaminari, trying and failing to hold it together. Jiro, self-loathing. Mina and Hagakure, trying in vain to comfort their friends and each other. Bakugō, punching the wall in anger in frustration, but most importantly, regret. Ojiro. Sato. Sero. Tokoyami. Aoyama. Tsuyu. Mineta. Shoji. Koda. Aizawa. Present Mic. All Might.
Everyone.
Izuku clenched his teeth.
Take me back.
He ran faster, his legs and lungs and heart burning as he plunged on.
Take me back!!
He squeezed his eyes shut, wind blowing sweat and tears off his face.
“TAKE ME BACK!!” Izuku screamed, loudly and longly.
There was a crack like a lightning bolt, and the world around him exploded.