Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

Izuku was choking.

His clothes were soaked through, and every inch of his body was cold, freezing cold. He coughed harshly and hacked, salty water spilling from between his lips.

There was a sudden commotion around him, voices shouting and footsteps scuttling to and fro; someone grabbed his shoulder and turned him over on his side, then thumped between his shoulder blades as he coughed and choked.

He gasped, every breath burning against his throat and lungs, the cold wind and air seeming to bite into his skin. But despite everything, he could breathe. He was breathing.

“Midoriya—!” Someone grabbed him and pulled him into their arms, wrapping him in a tight but warm embrace. It was a bit easier to breathe now that he was sitting up, but his chest was still burning, and he coughed twice. “It’s alright, Midoriya, it’s alright, just breathe...keep breathing…”

Izuku swallowed thickly, slowly dragging breaths of cold mountain air into his lungs from between chattering teeth.

“Someone, go get help!” the voice of whoever was holding him shouted, and Izuku finally managed to crack his eyes open, looking upwards. His eyes stung, and his vision was blurry; above, the sky was a dark, threatening black, stars and moon hidden by even darker clouds.

“I-I-Iida,” Izuku managed through his cracked throat and chattering teeth. He felt weak, his limbs heavy and numb, and it was still. So. Cold…

Iida tightened his hold, using his body as a shield against the wind. “It’s alright now, Midoriya,” Iida told him firmly, but there was a waver and shudder in his voice that Izuku didn’t miss. “It’s okay. You’re okay now, you’re safe…”

“We tied up the villain, he’s unconscious now!” shouted Kirishima’s voice from seemingly far away. “Bakugō’s standing guard!”

“Mina ran to get help!” came Kaminari’s voice, much closer. “She’ll be back soon!”

“Deku!”

Izuku glanced over; Ochako slammed to her knees beside him, her eyes filled with tears. “D-Deku, I-I was...I was so scared,” she whispered, her voice cracking in a million different places.

Izuku didn’t know how he did it, but he somehow managed to give her an exhausted but genuine smile. “S-Sorry,” he croaked, and then, he launched into a fit of coughing an instant later.

Iida’s arms tightened around him again protectively, and he ran a hand up and down Izuku’s back until the coughing subsided. “Stop talking for now, Midoriya,” Iida commanded, firmly but gently both at once, sort of how Izuku imagined an older brother’s scorn. “You just focus on breathing, alright? We’ll take care of the rest.”

Izuku listened, closing his eyes and resting his head against Iida’s chest.  

“Here, I made a thermometer,” came Yaoyorozu’s voice, followed by something pressing to Izuku’s temple. It disappeared a moment later, followed by Yaoyorozu’s report of, “Thirty-three degrees, celsius.”

Izuku’s ears felt like they were full of cotton, and his head was pounding horribly, but...he was home. Whatever nightmare he’d been in previously was gone. He was back, he was with his friends, he was safe, his friends were safe, they were home.

“His lips are blue.”

“It’s borderlining hypothermia...”

“O-Oh my gosh, h-he’s freezing…”

Izuku, as hazy as his mind currently was, was no idiot. He knew the dangers of the situation, the kind of peril he was in; they’d been in the middle of survival training on the top of a mountain, where the was air cold and the wind unforgiving. Getting dragged into an abyss of icy water by a murderous villain was not an encouraged activity.

But for some reason, despite everything, Izuku felt like laughing. He felt like laughing, and he was pretty sure if he wasn’t so weak, he would’ve. He was so, so, so, relieved. He was back. He was back, and his friends were okay, and they weren’t blaming themselves for his death, and they weren’t mourning, they were okay.

He felt something warm slide down his face, and it was now that he realized he was crying. He was crying, but he was happy, he was so, so, so happy, and he felt giddy beneath his exhaustion and pain.

“Midoriya, what’s wrong?” Iida asked, voice urgent but gentle both at once. “Midoriya?”

But Izuku barely heard him. “I-I-I’m back,” Izuku murmured, his tears dripping off his face and his teeth chattering still. “I’m b-b-back…”

“Yes, you’re home,” Iida said, misunderstanding him, but his words were reassuring to Izuku either way. “You’re home now, we’ve got you. It’s alright now.”

And it was. Izuku was freezing, and his chest was burning, and his head was pounding, and his throat felt like it’d been shredded to ribbons, but he was content. He was happy. He was home.  

“Here, let me see him.”

Izuku didn’t bother opening his eyes, but he felt himself being handed over. An instant later, someone else wrapped their arms around him, but it was distinctly warmer.

“T-T-Todoroki…” he murmured, cracking his eyes open again.

Todoroki just tightened his grip. “Let me know if it’s too hot, alright?” was all he said, and Izuku nodded shakily, closing his eyes again. After a while—and it took a while —the tremors stopped, and his teeth finally stopped chattering. He was cold, but he was also warm, and breathing became easier and easier by the second.

He heard voices, but the world began to fade around him, a fog overcoming his senses and thought process.

“He should be alright now,” came Todoroki’s voice from above him. “He stopped shivering a while ago.”

“Here!”

Something was draped around him; a blanket, probably, but he was only about eighty percent sure, his mind fogged with exhaustion. Yaoyorozu’s temple-scan thermometer grazed his forehead again.

“His temperature’s rising again...that’s a relief…”

“Geez, that was...that was terrifying.” That was Sero’s voice, he thought.

“Holy crap, Midoriya.” That was unmistakably Kirishima, and a hand ruffled Izuku’s hair momentarily. “Don’t you do that again, ‘kay, dude? That was seriously horrifying.”

“I brought help!” Mina’s loud, fear-filled voice shouted from somewhere far off. “How’s Midoriya!?”

There were other voices, other responses, other answers, other commands, but Izuku couldn’t make any of it out. After a few moments of nothing but chaos, he felt himself being lifted into another pair of arms -- bigger, stronger ones.

He cracked open his eyes again. “A-All M-Might…” He broke himself off with a couple of harsh coughs, and All Might’s arms tightened around him.

“It’s alright, Young Midoriya,” his mentor told him. “You’re safe now. It’s alright.”

Izuku smiled tiredly and closed his eyes, another tear making its way down his cheek. His mind was finally overwhelmed by darkness, and he let himself go.

He woke up in a hospital, surrounded by warmth and familiar voices.

“Do ya think he’s okay?”

“I’m sure he is. The doctor said he would be, right…?”

“All things considered, it’s pretty amazing. I mean...he stopped breathing. For, like...a long time.”

“I know. Thinking logically about it...it doesn’t make sense. In all frankness, he shouldn’t be alive—”

“Look at you guys, talking all depressed-like! Midoriya’s fine, remember? Isn’t that all that matters now?”

“She’s right! Who cares how? He’s okay!”

His classmates. Izuku recognized the voices as those of his classmates. With a sudden jolt, he remembered all that had transpired—everything, from drowning, to meeting the “other him,” to seeing everyone, everyone, as they mourned over his “death.” He remembered waking up again, choking, and then…

...He must have passed out, because his train of memories ended there.

“The doctor said he was borderlining hypothermia, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I think so. Something like that.”

“Do...do they know when Deku’s gonna wake up?”

“No clue, only that it could be any day now. Other than the hypothermia thing and the bruised ribs, he’s completely fine. Trust me, he’s gonna wake up any moment now.”

“That’s right! He’s a fighter! He ain’t gonna let this bring him down!”

Izuku cracked his eyes open. A blinding white light had him closing them just as quickly, but then, slower now that he knew better, he opened them again. It took his stinging eyes a moment or so to adjust to the hospital lights, but when they did, he was able to make out his classmates—all nineteen of them—dispersed through the hospital room.

“...I’m awake,” Izuku croaked.

Instantly, his classmates whirled around to face him, eyes wide with shock.

There was a beat of total silence.

And then, the room exploded into cheers and whoops. Ochako took a running start and glomped him; Sero and Mineta high-fived in the background; and everyone began talking and shouting at once.  

“MIDORIYA!!”

“He’s back!”

“You’re alive!”

“Dude! Don’t do that again!”

“Are you okay?”

“Hey! I wanna hug him, too!”

“Welcome back to the land of the living, buddy!”

“Our sunshine classmate’s back!”

“Are you alright? Do you need a doctor?”

“We were all so scared, Midoriya—!”

“You scared the living crap out of us!”

“Gak, you dolt, you gave me a heart attack, you know—!”

Izuku couldn’t help it; a small laugh bubbled up from his chest, fragile but honest. “I-I’m okay, you guys, r-really…” he somehow managed to gasp, his throat feeling just as tight and scratchy as ever. “I’m okay…”

Ochako finally released him and sat back, which made breathing a bit easier. He hadn’t noticed it before, but his chest was aching, as was his head, and there was an IV stand by the bed, the needle beneath his skin.

“Geez, though, dude, I mean it,” said Kirishima, reaching over and ruffling Izuku’s hair—again. “Don’t do that again. I’m telling you, when you went under, everyone lost their freaking minds. Even Bakugō was worried!”

“SHUT UP!!” screeched Bakugō indignantly, brandishing his fists. “DO YOU WANNA DIE, WEIRD-HAIR!?”  

“See?” said Kirishima, activating his Quirk and putting up his forearms to fend off Bakugō’s punch in the nick of time.

Izuku smiled, shakily but honestly. “W-What...what happened?” he asked after a moment or two. Although he knew the basic gist of it, he wanted to hear it from his friends’ perspective.   

“You noticed the villain in the water and leapt in front of me,” Jiro began, her gaze downcast, but not nearly as downcast as it had been before, when Izuku “died.” “It...It grabbed you, and...it dragged you under.”

“You…” Ochako said, then stopped, swallowing thickly and wringing her hands together. “You...you were down there...for a while.”

Izuku bit his lip and remembered, all too suddenly, that if it hadn’t been for his undetectable Quirk, he would be dead. He would be really, truly, honestly dead, for real this time (because he’d already died once).

“Asui and Yaoyorozu leapt into the water after you,” Mina narrated animatedly, but there was something in her voice that betrayed her fear at the memory. “While Yaoyorozu distracted him, Asui fished you out. You…”

Her voice trailed off suddenly, and she stopped altogether. No one said anything, but Izuku could already guess what had happened.

“You weren’t breathing, idiot,” Bakugō finished (harshly) when no one else did.  

“It was...it was terrifying,” whispered Sero. “And I’m not just saying that, either. It was seriously, seriously terrifying.”

“Yaoyorozu came back up with the villain,” Kaminari said, “and we chained him up and made sure he was unconscious while...while Iida started CPR.”

Izuku turned; Iida looked the other way. “You…?”

“I was the only one who knew how,” was Iida’s answer, and he straightened his glasses. “I was...rather panicked, however. I...cracked some of your ribs in my haste, and for that, I apologize.”

“Nonono, don’t apologize!” Izuku said quickly, waving his hands back and forth. “I-I mean, y-you saved me! I should thank you!”

(He didn’t dare mention the fact that he’d actually died while underwater, and that if it hadn’t been for his undetectable Quirk, Iida’s efforts would have been in vain.)  

Iida didn’t look entirely certain, but he didn’t argue, which Izuku counted as a win. “I’m just glad you’re alright now,” Iida said.

“The villain’s on death row,” said Kirishima, butting in; Bakugō had given up on trying to kill him and was instead sulking in the background. “Apparently, he was this guy called Abyss who’d killed a number of people in the past.”

Izuku came close— dangerously close—to saying “I know,” but he stopped himself at the last second. There was no way, just no way, he could tell his friends what had actually happened.

“He had a weird Quirk, though,” said Sato thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “I mean, you’d think the guy would have a water related Quirk, since he attacked underwater and all, but apparently, he doesn’t.”

Izuku blinked. This was new information. “What was his Quirk?”

“It was something called...gah, I dunno…” Sero tapped his temple with a frown. You could almost see the gears trying to turn in his head. “It was... Hopelessness, or something. Or Defeat.”    

“It hacks into its victims minds and makes them believe there is no hope, that there’s no point in living,” Yaoyorozu explained, her voice flat. “Once I was underwater, knocking him unconscious was unbelievably easy. He definitely wasn’t used to combat, so I assume he used his Quirk to trick people into giving up on life.”

“But he’s behind bars now!” said Mineta brightly. “We don’t have to worry about him ever again!”

“That’s right!” boasted Hagakure proudly, punching her fist into the air (although the only evidence of this was her sleeve shooting upwards). “Even though he was equipped with plenty of underwater equipment, he was no match for Yaomomo! She made a quick rebreather and staff for herself and showed him what for!”

That makes sense, Izuku thought, not to what Mineta and Hagakure proclaimed, but rather to what Yaoyorozu explained. Knowing more about the villain’s Quirk explained those depressing thoughts Izuku had heard moments before he…”died.” Thoughts that weren’t his own, words that he hadn’t conjured up.

“Is that what you felt, Deku?” Ochako asked, quietly and nervously, and Izuku looked at her. She averted her gaze, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “I-I mean...hopelessness. D-Did...did you...did you want to give up?”

Izuku grimaced. He hadn’t wanted to say any of this, because he didn’t want them to feel even worse about this situation, but...he was already hiding so much from them all, the whole “literally dying” ordeal, and he didn’t have the heart to hide this, too.

And plus, they were all looking at him with eyes full of concern. Honestly...how could he hide this from them, after all they went through?

“Errm...y-yeah,” Izuku relented after a thick swallow, reaching and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “It wasn’t a big deal, or anything, just...hopelessness. Yeah, that’s...that’s the best way to describe it.”

His friends didn’t respond, and he assumed that meant they weren’t satisfied with his answer, so he elaborated.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Izuku said (lied). “J-Just...stuff like, it’s pointless, and give up, and stop fighting, and that it’d be better once I was dead...that no one would miss me…”

The previously comfortable silence became a tension-filled one, and his classmates stared at him, some looking shocked while others looked terrified. Ochako and Iida in particular fell into the latter category.

“Deku...d-do you believe it?” Ochako asked him, her voice no more than a trembling whisper. “Did you... do you...believe it…?”

Honestly, the villain’s words had felt all too familiar to Izuku. They were all things Izuku had grown up with, actually, things like give up, and you’re worthless, and how could you ever amount to anything?, and You’re Quirkless!, and Why don’t you just die already?, so when Ochako asked the question, honestly...Izuku didn’t know how to respond. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he literally didn’t know how to.

Did he believe the things Abyss put in his head? He hadn’t seemed very alarmed by them. He hadn’t argued with them. He’d just...taken it all in stride, because they were words he was used to hearing. He hadn’t thought much of them at all.

“Midoriya.” Now it was Iida’s voice, firm and steady and borderline threateningly. “Do you believe that?”

“I...I-I don’t know,” Izuku finally managed, because that was the honest truth. He didn’t know one way or the other. He certainly didn’t fight against the thoughts. He fought against the water and drowning plenty, but not against the thoughts and feelings assaulting his mind.

“I-I mean...I-I didn’t really object,” Izuku said quietly. “I-I just kind of...a-accepted it.”

The instant the words were out of his mouth, he knew he’d said too much. A look of hurt, of horrible, horrible hurt flashed across Ochako’s face, and the rest of the class looked at him likewise, like he’d said some horrible thing.  

“S-S-Sorry, t-that was really depressing,” Izuku said, mentally screaming at himself. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

“DEKU!!” Ochako screamed, lunging for him once again and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and shoulders. Izuku flinched, his ribs throbbing in protest to Ochako’s movements, but he was too startled to push her away.

And soon, Iida joined the embrace, and then, so did Kaminari, and Sero, and Kirishima, and Sato, and Koda, and Jiro, and Tokoyami, and Todoroki, and the whole rest of the class, too (even Bakugō, though Kirishima may or may not have dragged him into it against his will).

Izuku swallowed thickly. “You guys…”

“You do realize we all care about you, don’t you, Deku?” Ochako asked him quietly. “We care about you, a lot.”

“That’s right, Midoriya,” proclaimed Kaminari. “I don’t know what kind of thoughts that stupid villain put in your head, but no matter what he or anyone else says, we’re your friends.”

“You matter to us,” said Iida seriously, “to each and every one of us.”

“That’s right, Midori,” said Mina. “We couldn’t imagine life without you.”

And, remembering the side effect of his recently discovered Quirk, the one that allowed him to see what the world would be like if he really did die, Izuku knew his friends told the truth. Izuku honestly didn’t know why he’d ever thought otherwise.

His friends loved him. They cared about him. And he knew this now. He was realizing this for perhaps the first time in his life.

And he didn’t really realize it until now, either, but he’d started crying. In relief, in joy, or just because he was overwhelmed, he didn’t know. And he decided it didn’t matter.

“T-Thank you,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “T-Thank you.”

“It’s the truth, Midoriya,” said Kirishima. “You don’t have to thank us.”

And Izuku smiled, a feeling of warmth, comfort and contentment settling deep into his heart.  

“IZUKU!!”

His mother crashed into the little hospital room the moment his classmates filed out, tears streaming down her cheeks, her knees knocking together. Her face was filled with something that far surpassed mere panic, but there was relief there, too, somehow.

The last time he’d seen her, she’d been sobbing brokenly over his death, and although the sobbing part hadn’t changed, the circumstances under which she was sobbing had.

“...Mom,” Izuku breathed, and he smiled brightly.

She ran to him and enveloped him in her arms, and he leaned into her embrace and hugged her back just as tightly, tears burning his eyes.

At length, though before he was ready to let go, she pulled back, taking his face in her hands and staring into his eyes intensely. “Are you okay?” she asked urgently, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Are you in pain? Are you scared? A-Are you..”

“I’m fine,” Izuku insisted, smiling softly. “Just a little shaken up, but...I’m fine.”

His mother smiled brokenly, let out a shaky sob, and yanked him into her arms once again. “W-When I got the call, I-I...I was so scared,” she whispered, squeezing him tight. “I-I thought...I thought I’d lost you, Izuku…”

“...I’m okay,” Izuku murmured. “I-I promise I’m okay, Mom…”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I know, I know you are, I just…oh, Izuku...”

She held him for a long, long time after that, and he didn’t object even once. He knew she needed this reassurance, this closeness, and honestly, he did, too. After being unable to interact with his friends and family, he came to value the time he had with them more.

After a long stretch of time, she finally released him, holding him at arm’s length with her hands on his shoulders.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” she said again, and it was more of a statement than a question. “Because if you’re not…”

“I’m okay,” Izuku said for what felt like the utmost time, though he wasn’t complaining. “I promise, I’m okay. You don’t have to worry.”

She looked into his eyes for a moment or two, then smiled softly and kissed his bandaged forehead. “Okay,” she said. “But make sure to let me know otherwise, okay?”

“I will,” Izuku promised.

She smiled and threaded her fingers through his hair briefly. “They’re discharging you a little later on this evening,” she informed him, her voice low. “I have to go fill out some papers, but I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Izuku agreed.

“And call the nurse if something happens,” his mother said. “No hiding things, okay? I know how you can be.”

Izuku smiled faintly. “Okay, I won’t.”

She smiled softly, pressed another kiss to his temple, and left, closing the door behind her.

Izuku took a doctor required week off of school, and then, he was back at U.A. with the rest of his friends. Things weren’t really different; he noticed Ochako and Iida hanging around with him a bit more than usual, and Yaoyorozu offered to help him study if he ever had trouble with something, and Bakugō was more “chill” (which was a true miracle), but other than that, and his classmates randomly asking him if he was okay every now and then, everything was back to the way it used to be.

And then, during lunch, All Might asked if Izuku would meet him in the Teacher’s Lounge, and Izuku did.

It wasn’t unusual; he often met with All Might during the school day to discuss One For All, but this time, there was an unspoken heaviness surrounding this meeting, and Izuku couldn’t place what it was, or what it meant.

“So...what did you want to talk about?” Izuku asked, sitting on the couch opposite of the one All Might was seated on.

All Might, currently in his true form, sighed heavily. “I wanted to apologize for not being there sooner,” he said after a brief pause. “I know it was hard on your classmates, but I don’t want to think about how hard it was for you, being in that situation and all.”

Izuku got a serious sense of deja vu, and he shook his head feverishly, waving his hands back and forth. “Nononono, it’s okay!” Izuku proclaimed, his voice coming out as a high-pitched squeak. “I-I mean, it’s not your fault! It was survival training, we were supposed to be on our own…!”

“Even so,” said All Might heavily. “I’m sorry.”

Izuku opened his mouth again to object.

“Just accept it, kid, alright?” All Might cut in. “Trust me, you’re not going to be able to talk me out of this one.”

And Izuku snapped his mouth shut again. “...Okay,” he said at length. “I-I forgive you…” And then, under his breath, “Even though you don’t have to apologize…”

“I heard that.”

“Sorry.”

“But, besides that,” said All Might, “I’m also sorry I didn’t get the chance to visit you in the hospital. I was meaning to, but then they discharged you, and I thought it would be best to wait until you recovered and were back to school.”

“That’s okay, I get it,” said Izuku. “Is...Is that all you wanted to talk about, or is there more?”

“No, actually, that was it,” said All Might. “I just wanted to apologize, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

Izuku paused and bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood.

“Hey, All Might?”

“Yeah?”

“I died.”

All Might gave him an incredigious look, then nodded heavily. “Yes, I know,” he said. “Young Iida told me you stopped breathing for a full ten minutes, not counting the time you were underwater. It’s a miracle you’re still with us—”

But Izuku shook his head. “N-N-No, that’s not what I mean,” he stammered. “I-I mean...I-I...I actually died. I d-didn’t just... stop breathing, I mean...I was dead.”

All Might only stared at him, clearly confused.

“...Sorry, but...you’re going to have to elaborate a little more, kid,” All Might said at length. “I don’t know what you mean.”

And Izuku told him everything, from drowning, to meeting Not-Him, to learning about the Quirk he’d been born with, to watching his friends mourn, to waking up again, alive and breathing. All Might said nothing while he explained, just nodded periodically and glanced away, deep in thought.

“...I-I know it’s crazy,” Izuku said once everything was out in the open, “b-but—”

“We live in a superhuman society, Young Midoriya,” All Might interrupted. “You don’t have to try and explain yourself, I believe you. Just...forgive me if I have a hard time taking it in.”

Izuku swallowed, then nodded. There was a beat.

“You died,” All Might repeated. “You actually died.”

Izuku bit his lip again, then nodded feverishly.

“You... died,” All Might said again. “Which means if you didn’t have this Quirk, or, Second Chance, as you called it...you’d actually be dead right now.”

Izuku didn’t want to think about it, either, but he nodded anyway.

“And, are you... okay with that?” All Might asked him cautiously. “I mean...psychologically. Are you…” He looked away for a moment, then refrained. “How are you, Midoriya?”

“I-I mean...it feels kinda surreal, but…” Izuku rubbed his forearm awkwardly. “...I’m not gonna argue with it, y’know? It just...sort of happened.”

All Might nodded. “...And you do realize you can talk to me about anything, and I won’t judge you, correct? If you’re shaken up by this—which would definitely make sense—I’d like you to tell me, or at least someone.”

“I-I know,” Izuku replied, “a-and I would, but I’m just...i-it doesn’t really... bother me. W-Which probably sounds crazy, but...it just doesn’t.”

“It’s not crazy, Midoriya,” All Might said. “Maybe the reason you aren’t fazed by this because your body was subconsciously aware of your Quirk.”

“M-Maybe…” Izuku sighed.

“Did you tell anyone else about this? Your friends, your doctor…”

Izuku shook his head. “I didn’t really know how,” he said. “I mean, my friends...they’re still shaken up by everything, so I didn’t really want to put anything else on them, but...I didn’t know how to explain having two Quirks, either.”

“Right, makes sense,” All Might nodded. “If you really wanted to tell them, though, you probably could. This world is full of abnormalities, so it’s unlikely it would arouse any suspicion.”

“Do you really think any of us are okay right now?”

“I-I-I’m s-sorry, Izuku! I’m s-s-s-sorry, I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry—!”

“We’re supposed to be heroes and I...I-I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even save my own classmate who was right in front of me, how can I possibly hope to save anyone else? ”

“I know...I feel the same way.”

“...It’s quiet here...without Midoriya.”

“YOU FRICKIN’ IDIOT, DEKU! WHAT THE HELL MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN GO DYING ON EVERYBODY LIKE THAT!?”

“...I don’t think I ever mentioned this, Young Midoriya, but...you became something of a son to me. And...I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, not just as a hero, but as your mentor, too. I’m sorry.”    

“I can’t do it, Iida! I want him back! I WANT HIM BACK, IIDA!!”

“No...I don’t think I want to tell them,” Izuku said, shaking his head. “Not yet, anyways. Maybe...maybe someday, when this all feels like a distant memory.”

“Alright,” said All Might. “Well, if you do need anyone to talk to about this, know that I’m here for you. I know I’m not the most experienced mentor out there, but I’ll do what I can, alright?”

Izuku nodded his agreement.

“And...I’m sorry, but…” All Might put his hands together. “...Are you sure you’re okay? You’re sure? If something’s wrong, it’s important you let someone know. This...probably isn’t something you should brush off so hastily.”

Izuku thought this over, long and hard. Maybe he was in some kind of shock or something, still trying to comprehend the fact that he’d been literally dead, and maybe someday, he would be seriously disturbed by it, but for now...he just...didn’t know what to feel. Didn’t know what he should have been feeling.

“...I think I’m okay,” Izuku said. “B-But if I...if I’m ever not okay, I’ll...I’ll let you know.”

All Might only nodded.

“Erm...are...are you okay?” Izuku asked eventually. “I-I mean...y-you said I’m like a son to you, so…I-I don’t know h-how you’re taking this...”

All Might blinked. “...Midoriya.”

“Yeah?”

“When did I tell you that I saw you as a son?”

It wasn’t until this moment that Izuku realized he’d slipped up. Up until this point, he’d been treading lightly, not wanting to add any details to the whole “watching his friends in mourning” part of his Quirk, but now, he’d messed up.

“S-S-Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to say that!” Izuku stammered, waving his hands back and forth. “I-I-I mean t-that was r-r-really random, I-I-I’m sorry! I-I just…” He paused and looked down; the carpet suddenly became very interesting. “...W-When...w-when everyone was m-mourning, y-you...y-you said...t-t-that ...s-sorry, this is s-stupid, I should shut up now—”

He was cut off mid-rant when All Might stood and embraced him.

Izuku’s train of thought screeched to a halt, his eyes going wide and his mouth snapping shut with an audible click. He sucked in a sharp breath and held it, his posture going rigid.

“You’re spewing nonsense again, kid,” All Might said. “I never denied it, did I? That I see you as a son?”

Izuku blinked. “I-I…”

He didn’t know what to say. While he could probably make a living off of spewing random knowledge and mumbling to himself under his breath, words failed him now. He couldn’t—literally couldn’t—find anything to say.  

Izuku never really knew his father. For as long as he could remember, it had always been him and his mother, and what memories he did manage to dig up of his father were always hazy and uncertain. He vaguely remembered a pair of long legs and a hand ruffling his hair, but he couldn’t tell the difference between what he actually remembered and what his brain fabricated to fill the void in his heart.

So, admittedly...he was more than a little shocked by all of this. All Might’s embrace was different than his mother’s, but also somehow the same. Izuku couldn’t explain it, nor did he try.

He didn’t really know what it was like to have a father, but…

...If he did…

...He imagined it would be something like this.  

He noticed but didn’t acknowledge All Might pulling back, settling his hands on Izuku’s shoulders. “The look on your face is priceless right now,” All Might told him, smiling.

Izuku blinked thrice in rapid session. Didn’t say anything. All Might chuckled lightly and ruffled his hair; Izuku blinked again, this time at the ground, then looked up at his mentor again.

“Well, so long as you’re alright, that’s all that really matters,” All Might said, shrugging idly and putting up his hands. “And don’t do anything too reckless too soon, alright? I don’t think the rest of us would be able to handle it.”  

Somehow, Izuku found his words again. “I-I’ll try,” he said. “But...I can’t really make any promises...”

“Yeah, I figured as much. Just try your best, alright?”

Izuku nodded firmly. “Fair enough.”  

After that, life just sort of...went on. His friends were more protective of him than normal, and his mother called him periodically during the school day to make sure he was okay, and Aizawa and All Might kept closer eye on him during potentially dangerous training exercises, but other than that, things just kept going the way they always had. It was...weird, after all that had happened, but he wasn’t complaining.

“You...you guys don’t have to stay with me all the time,” Izuku said, two weeks after returning to his school; Ochako and Iida flanked him, as they had been doing almost all day so far. “I’m okay now.”

Iida let out a long sigh, closing his eyes momentarily. “We know, Midoriya,” he said, “but you can’t really blame us for worrying. At the moment...” He shared a look with Ochako, then directed his gaze towards Izuku. “We’re all still trying to get over what happened.”

“You’re our friend, Deku,” Ochako said, and she smiled brightly at him. “We wouldn’t be anywhere without you.”

Izuku blinked at her, and then, he smiled back. “...Yeah.”

Chapter Text

“JIRO, WATCH OUT!”

It happened so quickly that no one moved in time to prevent it. There was a splash from the body of water nearby; Midoriya lunged forward and gave Jiro a harsh shove in the other direction; thick, black chains wrapped around Midoriya’s chest and throat and yanked him backwards.

He disappeared beneath the murky water, and then...

And then, it was over, just like that.

A loud chorus of “MIDORIYA!” ran throughout the 1-A students, and they raced to the water’s edge, everyone shouting and panicking at once. However, Jiro remained frozen in place, unable to move, as though her feet had been nailed to the ground.

Tsuyu suddenly barreled past the others and leapt into the water, disappearing an instant later. Yaoyorozu, thinking quickly, constructed a makeshift rebreather for herself as well as a long, metal staff before following her classmate into the depths.

Blind panic. That was the only way to describe just what was happening. Kirishima tried jumping in, too, but was held back by Sero. “You won’t be able to do anything!” Sero shouted at him, using strips of tape to hold his classmate back. “Tsuyu and Yaoyorozu are the only people who can handle it!”

There was panic. Blind, unbridled panic, but through it all, Jiro just stared, unable to move, hardly able to breathe. She heard her classmates shouting orders, heard some of them uttering loud cries of, “Please, please, please, please, please let them be okay!!” but she didn’t respond to any of it.

He…

...Midoriya, he…

...He saved me.    

Cold. Black. Unforgiving. That was Yaoyorozu’s first impression of the water. She kicked her feet desperately, plunging further and further downwards into the abyss. Tsuyu was already far ahead of her, her Quirk working to her advantage, and Yaoyorozu narrowed her eyes, trying to see through the black, murky water.

They went deep. Really deep. So deep in fact that it seemed impossible, and Yaoyorozu lost track of time. Had it already been a minute? Two minutes? She didn’t know, nor did she care.

Then, she spotted them: the villain, wearing a rebreather not much different than Yaoyorozu’s, was dragging an unmoving Midoriya further and further into the black. Tsuyu was approaching steadily.

“I’ll take care of getting Midoriya!” Tsuyu hollered to Yaoyorozu, her voice muffled by the water, but Yaoyorozu somehow managed to make out what she’d said. “I’ll leave the villain to you!”

That was the best course of action to take, and Yaoyorozu nodded to her classmate before narrowing her eyes at the villain again. The villain had been aiming for Jiro; Midoriya just noticed and jumped in to save her, but the fact that the villain had been aiming for her classmates at all brought a burning hatred to Yaoyorozu’s mind.

She’d take care of the villain. Ohhh, she’d take care of the villain.

They reached Midoriya soon after, Tsuyu plunging ahead. She wrapped her tongue around Midoriya’s midsection and yanked, but he was held fast by the chains around his chest and throat. The thing that was most terrifying about this was the fact that Midoriya wasn’t struggling. It was hard to see in the dark water, but Yaoyorozu was pretty sure his eyes were closed...

We have to take out the villain before we can get Midoriya free, the reasonable, problem-solving part of Yaoyorozu’s mind told her, and with fiery determination filling her mind and heart and soul, she kicked her feet and sped forward.

She could see the villain, a mere silhouette in the dark water, but that wasn’t a problem. It didn’t matter how hard it was; Yaoyorozu was going to beat him, she was going to make him pay for what he did.

(In the back of her mind, though, beneath this burning fury, she was panicking, because she confirmed now that Midoriya definitely wasn’t moving.)

Yaoyorozu brandished her metal staff and swung at the gap of space between Midoriya’s unmoving form and the silhouette of the villain. Metal clanged on metal; she’d hit the chains.

She swung again, this time at the villain, and he dodged, so she swung at the chains again. The chill of the water was weakening them, and they didn’t seem very strong to begin with; Yaoyorozu swung again, her hatred for the villain being momentarily replaced by the fear of losing her friend.

Getting Midoriya out was a top priority. Was the top priority.

She swung again. Metal on metal. How long had they been down here? She swung again. It had to have been at least five minutes. Metal on metal. She swung again. Why wasn’t Midoriya struggling? Metal on metal. Surely he should have been moving, been fighting back. She swung again. Metal on metal. Midoriya was a fighter, he was strong, so why wasn’t he struggling? She swung again. How long had they been underwater? How long had Midoriya been underwater, unable to breathe? Metal on metal.

And then, there was a very satisfying snap, and the chains were broken. Instantly, Tsuyu wound her tongue around Midoriya’s mid-section and yanked again, this time shooting upwards, towards the water’s surface. Yaoyorozu watched until she disappeared, and then, she turned back towards the villain, tightening her grip on her staff.

Now that Tsuyu and Midoriya were gone, Yaoyorozu could focus all her attention on the villain. She steeled her resolve, readied herself, and swung her staff—hard.

They were still underwater, but Tsuyu could tell Midoriya was unconscious. As she pulled him towards the surface as fast as humanly (or, rather frog-ly) possible, she could tell how limp he was, how lifeless he seemed, not moving or twitching or objecting to being suddenly jerked around. She didn’t want to think about it, but…

...What if they were too late…?

She shook her head feverishly and broke the surface of the water, hauling Midoriya up with her tongue and gently setting him down on the cold hard ground. Instantly, her classmates surrounded him, everyone shouting and talking at once.

And Tsuyu could see it clearly now. Even though the sky was dark, even though clouds blocked out the moon and stars, she could see it now, and her breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat before pounding harder than ever.

Midoriya wasn’t breathing.

“EVERYONE, MOVE!” Iida shouted, shoving his way through the crowd that was his classmates and finally crashing down at Midoriya’s side. Midoriya was as still as death, his face drained of all color (except for his lips, which were tinged blue), and Iida wasted no time, bending over and pressing his ear to his friend’s unmoving chest.

Silence. Nothing but silence. Midoriya’s heartbeat just... wasn’t there.

“NO!” Iida shouted, springing backwards. Around him, he was aware of his classmates shouting, his classmates sobbing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His hands moved on their own, locking together and pushing down repeatedly on Midoriya’s chest.  

He was unqualified, really; he’d taken a basic CPR course when he was in junior high, but he’d never thought he’d actually have to use it on somebody, let alone a close friend.

“—Three, four, five, six, seven—”

He was sure he was pushing down too hard.

“—Ten, eleven, twelve—”

Was it twelve? Had he already said that? He couldn’t remember.

“—T-Thirteen, fourteen, f-fifteen—”

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He felt something crack beneath his hands, but as much as it sickened him, he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

“—S-Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, t-t-twenty—”

No use. No use. No use.

“T-Twenty one, t-twenty two, twenty three—”

The reality was finally beginning to sink in.

“T-Twenty four, twenty five, t-t-twenty six—”

His vision was blurring, his breath coming in quick gasps between clenched teeth. He hit thirty, did a quick mouth-to-mouth, and went right back to chest compressions.

“One, t-two, three, four...come on, Midoriya, work with me...please...ten, eleven, t-twelve...come on, come on…”

He was desperate. He was oh so desperate, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded now, acid burning the back of his throat. Even so, Midoriya did not stir. He did not move. He did not breathe.

Everyone had been screaming and shouting earlier; now, they stood silent, too silent, only able to watch on in horror. Iida ignored them, his attention zeroed in on one person and one person only.

“Dammit, Midoriya, breathe!” Iida finally snapped, the first of many tears streaming down his face. “Breathe, Midoriya! Midoriya!!”

Someone—or, rather, a number of people—were sobbing. Heck, he was sobbing, and he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this, but he kept on, he kept up the chest compressions, kept up the mouth-to-mouths, because his friend’s life was in danger and he’d rather die than give up now.

So he didn’t. He was sobbing, his vision was blurring, his head was pounding, but he didn’t give up. He couldn’t give up now. There was no way—just no way —he was going to let Midoriya die like this. Not now and not ever.

It’s taking too long, Iida realized all too suddenly, as he started what had to be the sixth round of chest compressions. It shouldn’t be taking this long. Why is it taking so long? He should have had some sort of reaction by now…

Iida paused, only for a second, and pressed two fingers to the pulse point on Midoriya’s wrist. His hands were shaking—no, his entire body was shaking, actually.

Nothing.

He blamed it on his shaking fingers and pressed his head to Midoriya’s chest this time, listening.

Still nothing.

Iida let out a short scream of frustration and went right back to the chest compressions, blind terror grasping his heart. From seemingly far away, he heard his friends sobbing, heard broken, whispered pleas and prayers:

“No...there’s no way...t-this isn’t real…”

“Please don’t let this be real…”

“No, nononono, this c-can’t...this can’t be happening…”

“Please, please, please, please, d-don’t...don’t let him die…”

“I’ll go get help!” And, tripping and tumbling over unsteady feet, Mina broke out of the crowd, dashing madly down the mountainside.

Iida barely registered any of this, his mind and body occupied with trying to restart Midoriya’s heart, trying to make him breathe again.

It’s taking too long, he realized again, but this time, the realization made a deeper impact, an impact which only served to bring more fear into Iida’s panicked mind.

It’s taking too long.

It’s taking too long.

It’s taking too long.

And then, even more terrifying:

It shouldn’t be taking this long.

Was it too late? No, no, no, Iida wasn’t going to think that way, he wasn’t, he wasn’t, he wasn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, because the hope that he could save Midoriya was the only thing keeping him from completely losing his mind.

“—Ten, eleven, twelve, t-thirteen—”

It shouldn’t be taking this long.

“—F-Fourteen, f-f-fifteen, s-sixteen—d-dammit, Midoriya, p-please—”

It shouldn’t be taking this long.

“—E-Eightten, n-nineteen— b-breathe, Midoriya, just breathe—!”

Is it too late?

No, no, no, no, no, please…

“—T-T-Twenty one, twenty two, t-twenty three—”

...Please, don’t let it be too late. It can’t be too late. It can’t be too late. No, no, no, no, no, no—

Sobbing; whispered pleas; desperate prayers; everyone hoping for the same thing, everyone afraid for the same reason.

Please…

...Don’t…

...Don’t take Midoriya. Don’t take him away from us.

Iida’s panic was breaking through, despite how hard he tried to hold it back, and suddenly, he didn’t know what to do anymore, because how long had he been doing this, and how long had Midoriya not responded to it?

“MIDORIYA!! BREATHE!!” Iida screamed finally, performing one final chest compression in a last ditch-effort to save him.

And then—somehow, miraculously —Midoriya coughed.

He coughed and hacked, his lungs expelling the water that wasn’t supposed to be there, and Iida, still running on adrenaline and nothing more, turned Midoriya over on his side so he didn’t choke again. Overwhelming relief suddenly engulfed Iida’s entire frame, and he felt more dizzy than ever, black tainting the edges of his vision. He thumped Midoriya on the back once or twice, but other than that, was too relieved to move.

Around him, his friends had released a collective sigh of relief; Hagakure fell backwards and had to be caught by Ojiro, and a few others looked ready to faint, and somewhere close by, Sero let out a sharp cry of “Midoriya—!”, but Iida wasn’t really focused on them.

Midoriya’s coughing and hacking went on for a while longer, and then, Iida wrapped his arms around his friend and pulled him into a tight embrace, letting Midoriya rest against his chest. He knew he’d cracked at least one of Midoriya’s ribs, and that it would be easier to breathe if he wasn’t lying flat. Midoriya was shivering, too, almost horribly, and Iida tried using his own body heat to help stimulate his friend’s. The last thing they needed was for Midoriya to get hypothermia.  

But there was another reason Iida embraced Midoriya, a reason that seemed more real and true than the rest.

He needed it. He needed the confirmation that Midoriya was breathing, that his heart was beating again, that he was okay. Hurt and freezing, maybe, but okay. Over time, Midoriya had become something of a little brother to Iida, and Iida...Iida had almost lost him.

Midoriya coughed again, the sound harsh and wet, and Iida internally winced. “It’s alright, Midoriya,” Iida murmured, “it’s alright, just breathe...keep breathing…”

Midoriya was breathing again. He was breathing. Iida felt like cheering, felt like whooping, felt like exclaiming it to the world because Midoriya was alive, but for now, he settled for just holding his friend tight and not letting go.

“I-I-Iida,” Izuku gasped; his teeth were chattering, the word nothing more than a groggy croak, and Iida tightened the embrace, just slightly.

“It’s alright now, Midoriya,” Iida soothed. “It’s okay. You’re okay now, you’re safe…” He didn’t know who he was reassuring, himself or Midoriya, and he decided that it didn’t matter.

All that mattered now was the fact that Midoriya was alive.

“We tied up the villain now, he’s unconscious!” Kirishima hollered to the rest of the class, even though the villain seemed like a distant thing now after the horror of Midoriya’s unmoving form. “Bakugō’s standing guard!”

Yaoyorozu had resurfaced simultaneously with Midoriya’s returned breath, dragging an unmoving, bloody villain behind her, wrapped tightly in chains. She’d run off almost immediately to check on Midoriya, and since then, Bakugō had stood vigil over the villain, never once moving, never once looking away.

“Mina ran to get help, she’ll be back soon!” Kaminari informed, though it sounded more like he was reassuring himself.  

Honestly, Kirishima was so horrified by all of this that he didn’t really know what to think. The fact that Midoriya was underwater for so long, and then the fact that he wasn’t breathing even after being on the surface again, and then Iida’s desperation as he tried CPR, the fact that Midoriya hadn’t responded to it for...how long? Ten minutes? Fifteen? Kirishima didn’t know.

“You’re gonna die, villain,” came Bakugō’s voice suddenly, and Kirishima whirled around in shock. Even after being Bakugō classmate for so long, even after all the times he’d heard Bakugō angry, he had never, ever heard Bakugō’s voice sound as menacing as it did now.

“You’re gonna die,” Bakugō snarled, his hands balled into shaking fists at his sides. He was trembling. Trembling in anger. “If the law doesn’t kill you, I swear, I will.”

It was scary, actually, seeing Bakugō like this, and the guy was already scary enough to begin with. And the scariest thing about it was that Kirishima had no doubt Bakugō would carry out this threat. If justice didn’t sentence the villain to death...Bakugō definitely would.

“...Bakugō,” Kirishima said, reaching out and grasping Bakugō’s shoulder; Bakugō jerked away instantly. “Dude—”

“He needs to die,” Bakugō growled, sparks flying from his fists. “He needs to suffer.”

Kirishima only nodded. He couldn’t deny that he felt the same way. “I get it, man, I get it,” Kirishima said. “Trust me, the villain isn’t going to get away with this. No matter what.”

Bakugō stared at the unconscious, unmoving villain. He said nothing.

Sato rarely felt anger, and by “anger” be meant red hot fury that took over the better-thinking part of his mind and made him want to punch something—behavior that could only be compared to Bakugō. But this time, Sato was sure his anger was justified, because his classmate, his comrade, his friend had been hurt and almost killed by this villain, and if Sato’s hatred wasn’t justified , he didn’t know what was.

He tried to play it off like it was nothing, but that was hard to do. It wasn’t until Koda put a hand on his shoulder and silently shook his head that Sato calmed down—just slightly, of course, because calm was the last thing anyone was.

He didn’t have the chance to say anything; Ochako ran past him, a loud cry of “Deku!!” on her lips, and Sato was reminded that the villain wasn’t what they should be worrying about right now.  

Ochako was so scared she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her heart was pounding almost viciously, like a caged feral animal trying to escape, and adrenaline made her dizzy. She ran, finally crashing to her knees at Iida’s side.

Deku was pale. He was so, so, so pale, and it scared her even more. His chest rose and fell shakily, and his breaths came in short, shuddering gasps. It sounded painful.

“D-Deku, I-I was...I was so scared,” Ochako whimpered, her voice cracking pathetically, but she couldn’t help it. Even though she was relieved now, even though he was alive and breathing again, she couldn’t shake the terror she’d felt when Tsuyu resurfaced with a definitely not breathing Deku.

Deku looked at her, pain and exhausted ebbed deep into his eyes, but regardless, he smiled at her. A small, broken smile, but an honest one, from his heart. “S-Sorry,” he murmured—and then, his breath hitched, and he launched into a very painful-sounding fit of coughs.

Ochako reached out, but didn’t actually touch him, unsure of what to do. Iida, meanwhile, tightened his grip around Deku, running his hand across his friend’s back. Eventually—and it felt like it took an eternity—Deku stopped coughing, but his breathing sounded worse now, something rattling in his chest whenever he exhaled.

“Stop talking for now, Midoriya,” Iida told him, as though reading Ochako’s mind. “You just focus on breathing, alright? We’ll take care of the rest.”

Deku nodded shakily, closing his eyes and falling limp against Iida.

“Here, I made a thermometer,” Yaoyorozu said suddenly, kneeling beside Ochako with said device (she had exchanged her wet clothes for dry ones, Ochako noticed). It was a temple-scan thermometer, which Yaoyorozu proceeded to press against Deku’s forehead. The device beeped, and Yaoyorozu withdrew it, checking over the reading.

“Thirty-three degrees, celsius,” was Deku’s current temperature according to Yaoyorozu, and Ochako knew in an instant that that wasn’t good. That was a lot lower than it should’ve been, and Ochako now noticed just how badly Deku was shivering, his teeth clattering together constantly.   

“His lips are blue,” Iida commented, his voice shaking ever so slightly (Ochako made a mental note to thank him later, for not giving up even when it seemed hopeless).

Yaoyorozu bit her lip, a combination of worry and fear in her eyes. “It’s borderlining hypothermia,” she stated quietly, more to herself than anything, though Iida and Ochako both heard her.

Ochako reached out again, this time brushing her fingers against Deku’s pale cheek. Instantly, she withdrew her hand with a sharp cry of shock. His skin was like ice. “O-Oh my gosh,” she breathed, horrified, staring down at her hand, “h-he’s freezing…”

And he was. He was absolutely freezing, and it was scary. Yaoyorozu had mentioned hypothermia; what if Deku got sick, on top of all of this? And hypothermia was serious, too. It was bad. This was bad. This was all very, very bad—

“Midoriya, what’s wrong?” came Iida’s voice suddenly, an urgency in his tone that hadn’t been there before. “Midoriya?”

Ochako’s gaze shifted from her hand to Iida, and then to Deku. He was crying. Crying, tears streaming down his pale face, and something in Ochako’s chest clenched and broke—her heart, she concluded.

“I-I-I’m back,” Deku murmured through chattering teeth, and it could have just been her imagination, but Ochako was pretty sure she saw a small, fragile smile on his face. “I’m b-b-back...”

“Yes, you’re home,” Iida reassured him quickly, no doubt trying to keep Deku from dissolving into hysterics. “You’re home now, we’ve got you. It’s alright now.”

Deku didn’t say anything else, just shut his eyes, a look of contentment settling on his face.

“Here, let me see him,” Todoroki said, his voice low yet demanding both at once, and he knelt beside Ochako, holding out his arms towards Iida. Iida caught on quickly, and he gently—very, very gently—handed Midoriya over to him. Instantly, Todoroki wound his arms around his shivering friend and carefully activated his fire-related Quirk, enough to heat his skin but not enough to set anything aflame.

Midoriya stirred and cracked his eyes open, exhausted and confused. “T-T-Todoroki,” he croaked.

Todoroki really didn’t like the way Midoriya was shivering, so he held tighter, desperately trying to bring some heat back into his friend’s pallid skin. “Let me know if it gets too hot, alright?” Todoroki told him. He was still trying to get a handle on his left side, and he’d hate himself if he ended up burning Midoriya after all he’d just been through.

Midoriya nodded up at him shakily and closed his eyes again. Todoroki let out a long sigh and shut his eyes likewise, his thoughts racing.

When Tsuyu had dragged Midoriya’s unmoving body from the depths, honestly, Todoroki’s mind just...went blank. He hadn’t known what to do, what to think, what to feel; he could only watch on as Iida began CPR, as Ochako sobbed, as Yaoyorozu resurfaced with the unconscious villain, as Midoriya finally—blessedly—started breathing again.

And now, the reality of what had just happened was sinking in, and he tightened his grip around Midoriya.

Before now, Todoroki hadn’t had friends. People he’d met when he was little and in gradeschool had only wanted to be his friends because his dad was a “super cool hero,” and whenever Todoroki asked his father if he could go meet with anyone on the weekends, his father’s answer was always the same: “It’s a waste of time. You have a duty, Shōto. You don’t have time for such normal activities.”

But now, Todoroki had friends, true, honest friends, and, well…

...He’d almost lost one of them. He’d almost lost the friend who’d done so much for him during the Sports Festival. He’d almost lost the friend who had saved Todoroki from himself.

It seriously horrified him. It seriously, seriously horrified him.

He noticed now—and he’d been too entranced in his thoughts to notice before—that Midoriya’s tremors had stopped, that his teeth had ceased chattering. Todoroki sighed in relief. At least Midoriya wouldn’t have to deal with hypothermia on top of everything else…

“He should be alright now,” Todoroki told Iida, Yaoyorozu and Ochako, who were all kneeling nearby. “He stopped shivering a while ago.”

Yaoyorozu suddenly perked up, and she ran her hand along her forearm. “Here!” she said, using her Quirk and constructing a quick, thick blanket, which she then proceeded to drape over Midoriya. Afterwards, she took the thermometer from earlier and swiped it across his forehead.  

“His temperature’s rising again,” she breathed, closing her eyes briefly and letting out a long, shaky sigh. “That’s a relief…”

“Gee, that was...that was terrifying,” Sero shuddered; it was only now that Todoroki noticed him and a few others standing nearby.

“Holy crap, Midoriya,” Kirishima said, kneeling down and ruffling Midoriya’s damp hair gently (his hair and clothing had dried considerably thanks to Todoroki’s Quirk). “Don’t you do that again, ‘kay, dude?” Kirishima went on, and though he was smiling, Todoroki could tell he was seriously shaken up by all of this. “That was seriously horrifying.”

Midoriya didn’t respond this time, but he did smile faintly.

Mina was a fast runner. Iida was faster, of course, but when she’d volunteered to run and get help, Iida had been preoccupied.

So Mina ran, tripping and tumbling over her own feet more times than she wished to count. The cold air stung every inch of her skin that wasn’t covered by clothing, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care, not when her classmate was in such dire need of help.

They’d hiked up to the mountain for survival training, to see how well each student adapted to a cold, high-altitude environment. Two other teachers, namely Aizawa and All Might, remained at a large log-cabin at the base of the mountain. That was where she was running to.

Her phone wasn’t getting any service all the way up here, or else she would’ve just called for help, but as that wasn’t an option, running was the best she could do, and she did it, pouring every ounce of her strength into every stride.

She had to hurry. She had to hurry, or it would be too late.

When she reached the cabin, she didn’t have the chance to slow down, and the momentum carried her forward, slamming her straight into the closed door. She hit the ground in a heap, holding her head briefly in pain.

The door swung open. “Ashido? What are you doing back?” came Aizawa’s brooding voice from above her, and Mina suddenly remembered why she was here, why she’d poured so much energy into running all this way down the mountain.   

She shot to her feet, panic replacing pain. ““W-W-We were attacked b-by a villain!” she screamed, her voice cracking. Aizawa’s eyes widened, and behind him, All Might’s did as well. “A-And, w-we c-couldn’t...I-I…”

Panic overrode her system. She couldn’t think clearly anymore.

“Ashido, what happened?” Aizawa asked her demandingly, but there was a slight edge to his voice that gave away his fear.

“I-It’s Midori!” Mina shrieked. “I-I-I mean, Midoriya! H-He...oh, oh my gosh... h-h-he...h-he was d-dragged underwater, a-and, a-a-and l-last I checked h-he...h-he... he wasn’t breathing—!”

She was hyperventilating now, and she couldn’t help it, because Midoriya had been so motionless and lifeless and still and pale and—

All Might’s hands landed on her shoulders, and she looked into his eyes. “Young Ashido,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady, and she was certain it was just for her sake. “Calm down. Take us there.”

And Mina nodded feverishly, already pivoting and racing back towards the way from whence she’d come, her teachers sprinting in her wake.

Aizawa had been against the whole survival training thing from the start for a number of reasons. One, he thought it was too soon and that they should be at least second years before attempting something like this, two, because there was no phone, radio, or any form of reception up in the mountains (which meant that the teachers had no way of monitoring the students’ progress), and three, because, why?

But, apparently, the principal hadn’t shared his opinions and thought it was best for the students to learn how to survive on their own as quickly as possible.

Aizawa should have added potential death of student as one of his opinions. Maybe the principal would’ve called this whole stupid thing off if he had. But now his student was hurt, or rather not breathing according to Ashido, and Aizawa hated himself for not pushing his point further to the principal.

Aizawa tended to give his students a hard time, but in reality, he cared about each and every one of them individually, sort of like a father, even though he probably wouldn’t admit that to anyone (including himself). They were all good kids, and somehow, they’d become precious to Aizawa, each one of them having a special place in his heart reserved specifically for them, and now…

...And now Midoriya…

He ran faster, as fast as he could without getting ahead of Ashido, who was leading their way. Through it all, he only hoped that somehow, somehow, Midoriya was alright.  

Because Aizawa wasn’t quite sure what he’d do if he wasn’t.

All Might didn’t know what to think about any of this. His mind was completely blank, and his legs moved on their own, like they were working in overdrive, although he had no conscious control over them.

Midoriya. Something had happened to Midoriya. He didn’t want to think about it, but Young Ashido had said so, and she’d been absolutely hysteric as she tried to explain what was going on, and that wasn’t a good sign. Ashido was usually very level-headed and flexible; for something to scare her so thoroughly like this…

They climbed the mountain without faltering even once, and All Might could see dark shapes just up ahead. A lot of them, actually, and not shapes, but people. The students of Class 1-A.

“I got help!” Ashido shouted, her fear and panic still very evident in her voice. “How’s Midoriya!?”

That was the real question: was Midoriya okay?

Kaminari intercepted them, looking shaken but not disheartened. “Iida got him breathing again,” Kaminari told them, his voice wavering only slightly. “He’s alright now.”

That was a relief, but it wasn’t enough. While Mina stayed behind to catch her breath, Aizawa and All Might raced forward, towards the center of the commotion. Kneeling on the ground in a small semi-circle were Ochako, Yaoyorozu, Iida, and Todoroki. Yaoyorozu was wrapping a blanket around Iida’s shoulders, and Todoroki had his arms around a pale, unmoving Midoriya.

All Might sucked in a sharp breath, the sight not one he was ready for. Midoriya’s breath rattled painfully in his chest, and his skin was a horrible pale, though there seemed to be a small bit of color returning to his cheeks.

According to Ashido, Midoriya hadn’t been breathing, and according to Kaminari, it was Iida who saved him, it was Iida who had to make Midoriya breathe again, and it felt so wrong and horrible that All Might didn’t want to think about it, not now and not ever.

“Everyone, back to the cabin,” Aizawa said with forced professionalism, and All Might was glad for Aizawa’s level-headedness in times like these. “We have to get Midoriya someplace he can be properly looked over. We can’t stay here.” And then, he turned to Bakugō, standing a little ways off. “Leave the villain to me, I’ll take care of him...”  

The rest of the students, shaken and terrified thought they were, heeded their teacher’s words and assembled together, ready to head back down the mountain. The only exceptions to this were Ochako, Todoroki, Iida, Yaoyorozu, and of course Midoriya.

All Might knelt in front of Todoroki and held out his arms. “I’ll take him from here,” All Might said. “Thank you, Young Todoroki.”

Todoroki didn’t seem certain, but he didn’t hesitate to hand Midoriya over. Midoriya’s clothes were dry, All Might noticed, probably thanks to Todoroki’s Quirk, and once All Might had his student securely in his arms, he rose to his feet.

“His ribs,” Iida suddenly gasped out of nowhere, an urgency filling his eyes. “I-I broke some of his ribs, I-I think.”

“I’ll be careful, Young Iida,” All Might told him, looking the class representative straight in the eyes. “You were very brave today. Thank you.”

Iida swallowed thickly. Didn’t say anything. Ochako helped him to his feet, and they, along with Yaoyorozu and Todoroki, joined the others.

All Might made to follow, taking extreme caution as to not jostle his student any more than he had to. Even so, Midoriya stirred slightly and cracked his eyes open a sliver, looking up with a combination of confusion and relief.

“A-All M-Might…” Midoriya murmured, and then, he coughed harshly and raggedly. All Might internally winced, tightening his grip as much as he dared. He really didn’t like the sound of those coughs…

“It’s alright, Young Midoriya,” All Might said, not just to Midoriya, but to himself as well. “You’re safe now. It’s alright.”

Midoriya looked dazedly up at him for another moment or two, and then, his eyes closed, and his breathing, though shallow, evened out.

Once everyone was ready, they began their plight down the mountain’s face, towards their sanctuary.

Just because Aizawa told Bakugō that he would take care of the villain didn’t mean that Bakugō couldn’t keep an eye on the villain, because he did. He watched that monster like a frickin’ hawk, almost daring him to try any funny business.

Bakugō was angry. Really, really, really angry. He wanted to punch something (or, moreover, punch that frickin’ villain’s stupid little face in), but obviously, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t do that. At least not while Aizawa was watching.

“Bakugō, you need to calm down,” Aizawa told him, dragging the villain by one of Yaoyorozu’s chains. “The villain isn’t going to get away with this.”

Bakugō gritted his teeth, his fingernails digging into his palms. “I don’t care,” Bakugō snarled. “Just ‘getting put on death row’ isn’t enough.”

AIzawa glanced at Bakugō over his shoulder, then sighed. “I understand where you’re coming from,” said Aizawa. “I feel the same way. But, unfortunately—”

“Yeah, the law, I get it,” growled Bakugō, though he wasn’t pleased with it.

Deku was an idiot, granted, a helpless, worthless idiot, but he was a helpless, worthless idiot that Bakugō had grown up with, probably the closest thing to a “friend” that Bakugō had (although he wouldn’t admit this to anyone—including himself).

He’d deny it until the ends of the world, but yes, he cared about Deku, just like he cared about his other loser classmates.

And anyone that messed with any of them was going to pay. Bakugō swore it.

Shoji didn’t know Midoriya well whatsoever, but he’d been a member of Class 1-A long enough to know Midoriya’s (as well as everyone else’s) characteristics. One of the first things Shoji learned about Midoriya was that he was selfless, selfless to a fault almost, and that assumption was only made all the more clear after today’s events.  

And while Shoji didn’t know Midoriya well, he suddenly felt an urge of protectiveness, like that of an older brother, whenever he noticed just how limp Midoriya was in All Might’s arms. Shoji could tell that Bakugō and Sato shared this righteous anger, and he knew, just by looking around, that anyone who messed with Midoriya after this was going to have a hell to pay.

The log cabin was a large, sturdy structure, with a open main floor with a fireplace and couches and two separate rooms in the upper floor, one for the girls to sleep in and one for the boys to sleep in. Once they arrived at the cabin, Midoriya was laid on the couch nearest to the fireplace, where he remained dead to the world.

“I’ll go get some blankets!” Sero offered immediately, and he bolted upstairs before anyone could stop him.

“Hey, wait up! I’ll help!” Kirishima exclaimed, sprinting after him, and soon after, so did Kaminari, even though it really only took one student to grab a few spare blankets.

That sounds like it could be the start of a joke or something, Ojiro thought, quite against his own will. How many U.A. students does it take to get a couple of blankets from upstairs? Just one, but everyone insists on helping anyways.

It was lame, sure, but Ojiro needed something lighthearted to keep his mind off what he and the rest of his classmates had just witnessed.

He and Midoriya weren’t super close friends or anything, but they’d gotten to know each other a bit more over the Sports Festival, and Ojiro could honestly call Midoriya a good friend, someone he respected and trusted indisputably.

And to see Midoriya, unmoving and lifeless like that was just…

...It was too much. Ojiro never wanted to see any of his classmates in such a state, not now and not ever again. He was pretty sure he’d never be over this, that it’d continue to haunt him for the rest of his life.

“WE’VE GOT THE BLANKETS!!” chorused Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero all at once as they tripped and tumbled down the stairs in their haste, followed by them draping one, two, three, four, five blankets over the dozing Midoriya.

Ojiro took in a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly.

Midoriya was alive now. That was all that mattered.

“I’m going to try getting in contact with the school,” Aizawa informed All Might, but Kaminari and the rest of the students heard him plain as day. “The weather conditions are deteriorating, though, so we may have to wait until morning.”

After that, Aizawa left, leaving behind All Might and the rest of the 1-A students in his wake. All Might stood there for a moment or two, doing nothing—and then, he clapped his hands together and turned towards the remaining students.

“Well...I believe it’s best for you all to get to bed,” he said at length. “I’ll watch over Young Midoriya for now—”

Kaminari’s hand shot into the air immediately. “Sensei!”

All Might turned towards him. “Yes?”

“I-If it’s alright…” Kaminari paused momentarily, trying to find the words. When he did find them, he raised his head proudly and proclaimed them for all to hear: “I’d like to stay and help you watch over Midoriya!”

All Might didn’t seem at all surprised by this; however, that didn’t mean he agreed. “I understand where you’re coming from,” he said, “but you went through a lot today. It may be better if—”

“Um, I don’t mean to interrupt,” Sato said, also raising his hand, “but I would like to stay with Midoriya as well!”

“I second that!” said Kirishima, waving his hand high above his head, looking like a total idiot in the process. “Midoriya’s my buddy, y’know? How can I call myself his friend if I don’t look after him?”

“I’ll be a runner!” offered Sero, his hand shooting into the air. “If anything happens or if you need anything, I’ll get it! I want to do my part and help out, too!”

“I’ll watch the frickin’ villain,” snarled Bakugō.

“Midoriya’s our friend!” said Hagakure, her voice wavering. “If I can help him, I want to!”

Koda said nothing, but he nodded in agreement, raising his hand shyly.

Kaminari felt the same way. He didn’t consider himself a very brave person, which was why he admired Midoriya so much. Midoriya, jumping in there to save Jiro like he did, even when he knew it would cost him dearly...honestly, Kaminari was envious of his courage, of his bravery. He wanted to be like Midoriya, wanted to be the kind of person who wouldn’t hesitate when it came to saving a friend, a classmate, or even a stranger.

That, and, like Kirishima said. Midoriya was also Kaminari’s friend. Not close friend, but friend nonetheless.

All Might looked to each student in turn, then sighed in defeat. “I should have known,” he said. “Well, alright. You can watch over Midoriya, but you have to work in shifts. Those who are not currently on their shift will sleep. Understood?”

Kaminari snapped up his hand in salute, as did a few others. They could do this. They could look after their friend.

After all, Midoriya always looked after them.

No one slept that night. It was a common, well-known though unspoken fact amongst the students. Although nobody slept, nobody talked to each other, either. They just laid in silence, staring up at the oaken ceiling.

Aoyama had always thought Midoriya was insane. Truly, honestly insane, and he didn’t mean that as an insult, either. After all, it took a special kind of person to make the sacrifices Midoriya made, to go to such lengths just to save someone. Midoriya was insane, yes, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t admirable, because he was. Midoriya’s insane amounts of courage and bravery and selflessness and compassion were something that Aoyama hadn’t really seen before starting U.A.

But, while he admired Midoriya’s character, the heart of gold he possessed, Aoyama found himself wishing Midoriya was a bit less selfless. Not by much, but just enough so that he didn’t throw away his life so willingly.

Because that was the problem: if a villain literally told him I’m going to shoot your friend you have five seconds to jump in front of them, there was no way Midoriya would do anything but.

And that was scary. His selflessness was scary. Admirable, but scary.

The door creaked open; Kaminari returned, and Tokoyami left for his shift.  

Tokoyami hadn’t felt that kind of unbridled terror since...well...since never. He’d felt terror before, like at the USJ attack, but that didn’t come even remotely close to the terror he’d felt seeing Midoriya pale, breathless, and unmoving as Iida fought to save him.

It wasn’t something to be easily overlooked or forgotten.

Tokoyami took the third shift (Ochako first, Kaminari second), while the rest of the students were upstairs trying (and probably failing) to fall asleep. All Might had said something about making tea in case Midoriya woke up and left for the kitchen, leaving Tokoyami alone with Midoriya.

Dark Shadow was just as distressed as Tokoyami about this whole ordeal, and the shadowy shape-shifter appeared periodically, patting Tokoyami comfortingly on the head (a gesture which Tokoyami returned) or nuzzling Midoriya’s shoulder. All the while, Midoriya didn’t stir even once.

Iida, Ochako, and Todoroki had tried taking the first shifts, but the former and latter were shot down pretty quickly by their classmates.

“Iida, come on,” Kirishima had said, shaking his head. “I get you’re worried, but you’ve gotta rest, man. You performed CPR for...gah, I don’t know how long, but it was a while. You’ll end up hurting yourself if you keep this up.”

And Todoroki hadn’t exactly looked himself, either, which made sense ( no one was looking like themselves at the time being), and although it took some convincing, Todoroki had eventually agreed to taking a shift a little later on in the evening.

Tokoyami sat in silence for a while, listening to the fireplace crackle in the background, before he sighed heavily, looking at his classmate. Midoriya hadn’t woken even once since being brought here, and Tokoyami wasn’t surprised or startled by this at all. He didn’t want to imagine the kind of stress Midoriya’s body had been under today.

If anyone had earned the right to sleep, it was him.

Midoriya was so cool! That was the only thing Mineta could think. Of course, he’d been just as scared as the next person when Tsuyu had reemerged with a practically dead Midoriya, and it wasn’t until Iida revived him that Mineta could truly breathe freely again.

And the conclusion he came to regarding today was always the same: Midoriya was amazing. Everyone had seen it; he’d leapt in to save Jiro when he noticed the villain in the water. Mineta tried to put himself in Midoriya’s shoes and asked himself the question, Would I have saved someone if I knew it could cost me my life?

Of course, to others, he’d probably boast that Yes, of course I’d do the same! but when he thought about it, when he was honest with himself, he knew that no, he wouldn’t.

Why do you have to be so cool, Midoriya? Mineta wondered silently, as he and his classmates tried in vain to fall asleep. Mineta didn’t get his answer, of course, and a little while later, Tokoyami returned, and Sero left for his shift.

“He looks like he’s in pain,” Sero murmured with a frown; he and All Might sat on a couch opposite of Midoriya’s. “Do you think it’s his ribs? Iida mentioned cracking some of them...”

Admittedly, Sero was a bit worried for Iida’s state of mind. After all, it wasn’t every day you spent over ten minutes trying to revive your friend with CPR. Sero didn’t even want to think about what Iida was feeling.

All Might nodded shortly. “It wouldn’t surprise me,” he said, and then, he got to his feet. “I’ll get an ice pack from the kitchen.”

Sero nodded, and All Might left. That was another thing; All Might had been on edge, seriously on edge, and though Sero could tell he was trying to be strong for the rest of the students, he was just as shaken up as the rest of them.

If Sero was completely honest, he felt kinda... numb, about this whole thing. Like it hadn’t actually happened. He’d been so terrified and horrified earlier, almost to an impossible degree, and now, although he’d accepted the reality, he still felt... detached. And he knew it was dumb, because the events had obviously happened, but still.

“...Midoriya…” Sero sighed heavily, shaking his head. “...I get that you want to protect us, but dang, man, could you think about your own safety every now and then?”

Midoriya, of course, didn’t answer, and Sero hadn’t really been expecting him to.

“Ice?” Hagakure asked when she began her shift. “A-Are...are you sure that’s a good idea? Everyone was talking about hypothermia…”

“He’s well out of the woods in that respect,” was All Might’s answer; he was carefully pressing an ice pack against Midoriya’s ribcage. “This is just to help numb the pain so he can sleep a little more soundly.”

Hagakure nodded feverishly, feeling a bit dumb for questioning it.  

She’d actually fainted earlier once or twice, the first time being when the realization that Midoriya wasn’t breathing sank in and the second time being when Midoriya finally started breathing again.

It’d been horrible. Absolutely horrible. And terrifying. Really, truly terrifying. She’d been scared, really scared, more scared than she’d ever been in her entire life. Not even the battle at the USJ held a candle to this.

“D-Do...do you need any help?” Hagakure offered. .

After a moment or two, All Might nodded. “Here,” he said, passing the ice pack to her. “Would you mind putting some more ice in this?”

Hagakure nodded eagerly, took it, and bounded off. She’d do whatever she could to help her classmate.

Eventually—and it really was eventually—the students were all upstairs and (hopefully) sleeping, and Aizawa finally gave up on trying to contact the school. The weather here was unpredictable, and the phone lines were currently down; he’d have to wait until morning before he was able to send for help.

Aizawa stepped into the main room, a clipboard in hand (he was currently filing a report on what had happened for the police) and frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning idly against the doorframe.

“Go to bed,” Aizawa said.

All Might didn’t so much as look up. “No. I’d like to watch over him.”

“You don’t have any time left,” Aizawa said, and All Might flinched, just slightly—just slightly enough to confirm Aizawa’s suspicion. “Go. I’ll take care of Midoriya.”

All Might looked at him, then shifted his gaze to his student, and finally rose to his feet. “If something happens…”

“I’ll take care of it,” Aizawa said, unwavering. “Go.”

And All Might did, though very reluctantly, and Aizawa crossed the room, taking a seat on the edge of the couch beside where Midoriya was sleeping. The boy still had yet to stir, not that Aizawa was super surprised by this. The human body could withstand a lot of things, but literally drowning was something that would take a bit more time to recover from.

It was another hour or two before Midoriya stirred, but he didn’t fully wake up; just launched into a fit of harsh, grating coughs. Aizawa set his clipboard aside and helped him sit up, holding him steady until it passed.

Hopefully he doesn’t end up with a lung infection… Aizawa frowned, then sighed heavily, wrapping an arm around Midoriya’s trembling shoulders and letting him rest his head on Aizawa’s shoulder.

How these students had found a way into his heart was beyond him, but Aizawa decided it didn’t really matter. Somehow or another, all twenty of them had, and Aizawa resolved to look after them, as a father would look after his children.

Maybe he’d gone soft.

He decided that didn’t really matter, either.

By the next morning, the wind had cleared, and Aizawa was finally able to contact the emergency services. He explained the situation, asked for a paramedic, and hung up, phoning the school a moment later to inform the principal.

The students were awake before the sunrise, and since there was no reason for them to try going back to sleep, they remained downstairs, gathering in the main room where Midoriya still slept.

“The paramedics should be here soon,” Aizawa informed them. “They’ll take Midoriya in an ambulance. The rest of us will be taking the bus home.”

The students looked at each other briefly, saying nothing.

After everything they’d been through yesterday, the panic just... died down. It was weird, how they could be so horrified and terrified one moment and the next moment be... okay. Because everything was okay now.

The medics arrived sooner than anyone had thought, and as soon as they loaded Midoriya into the ambulance and started back towards the city, Class 1-A and their teachers did likewise, loading up into the bus they’d come in and starting down the long road.

The hospital was their first stop, naturally, and they arrived long after the ambulance did. The doctor explained that, yes, Midoriya had broken a few ribs, but that he was healing nicely, doctors with medical-related Quirks kickstarting the recovery. He also explained that it was quite odd and miraculous; despite nearly drowning, the broken ribs was all Midoriya had to show for it. Otherwise, he was fine.

No one cared, though. Freak thing, unexplainable abnormality, “ood,” “miraculous”...none of it mattered.

It didn’t matter how Midoriya was okay.

It just mattered that he was okay.

Because as long as he was okay, his friends were okay, too.

Chapter Text

It was a bad idea.

Izuku knew it, he knew it was a bad idea, but he did it anyways. And the real problem was, he’d assured everyone else—namely his teachers and a few of his classmates—that it was definitely not a bad idea, that he would be fine.

It was stupid. It was stupid. Not that he hadn’t told anyone it was a bad idea, but because this was a bad idea. It was just something simple, something each student had to do during Rescue Training at the USJ. It was simple: dive towards the bottom of the Shipwreck Zone and retrieve a ring. That was all. It was simple. It was so simple it was stupid.

All Might had asked him ahead of time if he thought he would be okay with it, and that he could sit out if he thought it would bring back any unwanted memories, but Izuku had promised that, yes, he’d be fine, that it wouldn’t be a problem, because at the time of All Might’s inquiry, he hadn’t thought it would be a problem.

But the instant his body became fully submerged in the water, he realized the truth.

It was a bad idea. Probably the worst idea he’d ever had.

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, he told himself repeatedly, kicking his legs and making towards the bottom of the Zone. You’re fine, you’re fine. Just stay calm, stay calm, stay calm—

(I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe—)

Stay calm, it’s fine, it’s going to be fine, everything’s okay—

(Can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t breathe—!)

Relax, relax!

Can’t breathe, can’t breathe, CAN’T BREATHE—

And suddenly, there were chains around his throat again, chains holding him down, and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he was going to die (again), he was going to die, and everyone would mourn, and everyone would hurt and cry and blame themselves and crapcrapcrapno I can’t breathe I can’t breathe Ican’tbreatheIcan’tbreathe—

Before he had time to think or do anything else, something wrapped around his waist and pulled him towards the surface.

All Might knew something was wrong the instant Midoriya assured him otherwise. He hadn’t questioned his student, because he knew how awkward and shy and embarrassed Midoriya could get, but that didn’t mean he agreed with his decision. The instant All Might asked the question, there’d been a flicker of something in Midoriya’s eyes, something probably even he himself was unaware of, but All Might noticed it.

And now, as he pulled his near-limp student towards the surface of the water, he knew it wasn’t something he should have brushed off.

They broke surface, and the first thing All Might did was make sure Midoriya’s head was above the water. It was, and he was coughing, which was a good thing. All Might had gotten to him before he stopped breathing.

He set Midoriya down on the shoreline before heaving himself up out of the water as well; Midoriya’s classmates were nearby instantly, though they kept their distance, looking like they wanted to help and just didn’t know how.

Not that it mattered.

All Might knelt in front Midoriya, who was still coughing and hacking, and settled a hand on the boy’s back to help steady him. “It’s alright, Young Midoriya,” All Might told him. “It’s alright.”

Internally, he was kicking and screaming at himself. Are you kidding me? You knew this would happen! Why didn’t you stop him!?

At length, Midoriya stopped coughing, and at first, All Might thought he was alright (physically, at least)—but then, he noticed Midoriya still wasn’t breathing right, that his breaths were drawn in as small, rapid gasps.

He’s hyperventilating.

It was so obvious that All Might felt like an idiot for not noticing sooner.

“Midoriya,” he said firmly, putting his hands on his student’s shoulders, “it’s okay, alright? You’re fine, you’re okay.”

Midoriya took in a shuddering breath that was no deeper or less hysteric than before. “I-I-I c-can’t do it,” Midoriya choked between gasps, tears and water droplets cascading down his face. “N-N-Not again, n-not again, p-p-please n-not again…”

“It’s not going to happen again, I promise,” All Might told him. He knew what the boy was referring to; literally drowning, his friends mourning over him… “You’re fine, you’re alright, Young Midoriya…”

Midoriya sucked in a shaky breath, ducking his head and burying his hands in his soaked hair, but he didn’t seem completely there. Like he wasn’t aware of his surroundings, or even All Might kneeling in front of him.

“Midoriya, you’re fine,” All Might told him, trying to be firm without being harsh, and finally, finally, Midoriya’s head snapped up, and his eyes met his mentor’s. “You’re alright, alright? It scared you, I know, but it’s okay. You’re safe. Nothing can hurt you now.”

Midoriya inhaled and exhaled shakily a few more times, then nodded feverishly.

“Now, you need to breathe,” All Might instructed. “Try and take in deep breaths, alright? You’re fine. There’s nothing to worry about anymore.”

Midoriya nodded again, less feverishly this time, and tried taking in a deep breath. It took a while—a long while, actually, a lot longer than All Might would have hoped—but finally, Midoriya’s breathing returned to normal, and he brushed the last of his tears off his face.

“Better?” All Might asked, and Midoriya nodded shakily, though he didn’t respond verbally. At long last, the duo rose to their feet, and All Might wrapped an arm around his pupil’s shoulders.

“I’ll take him to see Recovery Girl,” All Might addressed the rest of the students, who had yet to move since Midoriya resurfaced. They all looked equally shaken up, which made sense considering the memories that must have resurfaced, but they didn’t argue. “Young Iida, I’m leaving you in charge. I’ll be back shortly.”

Iida nodded firmly and snapped his hand up in salute, but his eyes never once left Midoriya. After that, All Might led Midoriya off, saying nothing.

All Might was slowly realizing that one of the hardest parts of mentoring somebody was the inability to do more for them.

“Panic attack,” Recovery Girl diagnosed, pushing back her chair. Izuku sat on a nearby infirmary bed, where Recovery Girl had been examining him. All the while, he said nothing, keeping his head down, droplets of water dripping off his hair and leaving a small puddle on the floor.

“You should be fine,” Recovery Girl said; Izuku didn’t even look up. “I know panic attacks are scary, but they’re not dangerous. You’re alright.”

Izuku bit his lip, balling his fists against his knees. He didn’t know why, but just being underneath the water, in the black, in the cold, had made him remember everything he wanted to forget. Drowning. Dying. Seeing his friends in pain.

Recovery Girl reached out and patted his hand softly. “Try not to be too hard on yourself, alright? It was your body’s reaction to the situation. You couldn’t help it.”

Izuku swallowed thickly. “I-It just feels stupid,” he murmured.

Recovery Girl shook her head. “It’s not stupid,” she said. “Like I said, you couldn’t help it.”

Izuku swallowed thickly, then nodded. If there was one thing he couldn’t do, it was argue with Recovery Girl.

She was the only person, aside from All Might, who knew about Second Chance. The day after he’d explained his Quirk to All Might, All Might had prompted him to visit the nurse’s office and tell Recovery Girl as well, just in case the Second Chance came with any physical side effects they didn’t know about (and there weren’t, but it was always good to make sure).

“Well, physically, you’re fine to go,” Recovery Girl said, offering him a smile. “Let me know if anything else comes up, alright?”

Izuku thanked her, hopped off the bed, and left the infirmary. All Might had returned to the USJ for the rest of the students, so he was alone this time.

As he walked, his clothes still damp and drops of water leaving a small trail behind him, all he could think about were the haunted faces of his friends when All Might dragged him out of the water. He’d only seen them for a glimpse, but he’d seen enough, and it reminded him—far, far too much—of everything he wanted to forget.

“I WANT HIM BACK, IIDA! I...I j-just...I-I just...w-want my friend b-back…”

“YOU IDIOT! YOU FRICKIN’ IDIOT, DEKU!! WHAT THE HELL MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN GO DYING ON EVERYONE LIKE THAT, HUH!?”

“D-Dangit, man, this sucks. This r-really sucks.”

“I couldn’t do anything…”

“Do you really think any of us are okay right now?”

Izuku sucked in a deep, shaky breath.

I should tell them, he realized, quite jarringly, as he headed back for Classroom 1-A to await everyone else’s return.

I should tell them.

Even if it hurts…

...They have a right to know.

It took a few days before he finally mustered the courage to tell them the truth. He didn’t even know how he was going to bring it up. He thought about doing it casually, like, “So you wanna get coffee?—Oh, and I died a few months ago—but THAT COFFEE THO,” but no, it just didn’t work that way.

So, he decided that, instead of trying to script what he’d say and run different scenarios in his head, he’d just blurt whatever felt right and finally get it over with. He’d cross (or rather, burn) that bridge when he came to it.

“H-Hey, c-can...can I talk to you guys for a minute?” he stammered after school one afternoon, as his classmates gathered up their backpacks and workbooks and prepared to leave Classroom 1-A.

“Sure thing, Midoriya!” Kirishima answered instantly with a trademark grin and thumbs-up. Yaoyorozu nodded, as did Mina and Mineta; Tsuyu shrugged with a “I’m not in a rush to go anywhere,” and Iida exclaimed, “Of course, Midoriya!”

After that, everyone else agreed quickly, which was both good (because Izuku really just wanted to get this over with) and bad (because it meant he would actually have to tell them).

“What do you want to talk about?” Ochako asked, swinging her backpack over her shoulder and looking at him curiously.

“E-Erm...I-I was thinking we could...do it somewhere a little more private,” Izuku said, then bit his lip immediately afterwards. He wasn’t ready for this. Ooooh, crap no, he wasn’t ready for this. But he’d already brought it up, and to back out of it now would just raise suspicion and worry his friends further, and he didn’t have the heart to do that.

So he didn’t.  

“How about the Student Lounge?” Tsuyu offered, tapping a finger to her chin. “I don’t think it’s used very much this time of day.”

“The Student Lounge!” Kirishima roared proudly, as though it was his idea. “Awesome! C’mon, guys!”

And the students filed out, Izuku bringing up the rear with Kirishima up ahead.

How am I gonna say this?

...I don’t even know…

...It’s probably better not to overthink things.

…

...Nevermind, that never works.

“Hey, Midoriya, seriously, what’s up?” Kaminari asked, sliding up beside him. “You look pretty tense. What’s wrong? It’s...it’s not something, like, super serious, is it?”

“N-Not...n-not really,” Izuku said, but if he was completely honest, he didn’t know either way, “i-it’s just...kind of a lot to explain, so…”

“Oh, I getcha,” said Kaminari, nodding seriously. “You wanna explain it to everyone at the same time, right? That’s cool. But seriously, you can loosen up a bit, y’know. We’re all friends here.”

Izuku had to bite back the urge to say, That’s just the problem.

They reached the Student Lounge before he was ready, and everyone filed inside. It was a nice, big, open area, with a rectangular coffee table and two couches on either side, facing each other. It was empty with the exception of the new arrivals, and everyone took a seat, half on one side and half on the other side. The instant Izuku sat down, Ochako and Iida took a seat on either side of them, which made sense.

Once everyone was situated, they sat in silence for a while as Izuku tried to gather his thoughts and find a way to word what he was about to say.

“...So, Midori...” It was Mina who broke the silence, her hands folded tightly in her lap. “...What this thing you wanna talk about?”

“...Right,” Izuku swallowed, “erm...sorry, I just…”

Say it.

All eyes were on him, some worried, some curious, others scared, some unsure, some nervous, though the majority just looked... concerned.

Just say it.

You have to say it.

“...I-I’ve told you guys a little bit about my Quirk,” Izuku said quietly, winging his hands together. “J-Just...i-its origins, r-right?”

“Yeah,” Sero agreed, nodding. “You said it was some freak mutation that developed right before you started high school, right?”

Izuku nodded feverishly. “Y-Yeah, that,” he said. “A-And...stuff like that happening is already super rare, but...t-t-there’s something else. I didn’t...I didn’t actually realize it until now.”

Just say it.

Say it.

Tell them the truth.

“I...I have two Quirks,” Izuku said plainly. “One that didn’t develop until I was older, and one...one that I was born with.”

“Oh!” Kirishima snapped his fingers. “Sort of like Todoroki, except you didn’t have both of them from the start?”

“That’s not so weird,” said Sato, shrugging. “I’ve had some friends who inherited both their parents’ Quirks, so a person having two Quirks isn’t that unheard of. It’s not something you have to be so freaked out about, for sure.”

“Sure!” said Ochako, nodding encouragingly. “It’s not weird at all! You don’t have to look so nervous, Deku…”

They’re taking the “two Quirks” thing better than I thought they would…

Izuku only wished the “two Quirks” was the hard part, and he shook his head, wishing he didn’t have to go on. But it was too late to back out now. He’d dug his grave; time to lie in it. “That’s...that’s not really it. I-I mean, it is, but...that’s not all.”

His friends fell silent again, but they were more zeroed in on him than ever, and he took a breath, mentally steeling himself.

“I...I was born with this Quirk called ‘Second Chance,’” Izuku explained, fidgeting restlessly. “I-It’s a super rare Quirk that only comes around every couple centuries and can’t be passed down through generations like most Quirks can. W-With this Quirk, w-when a person dies, they’re ‘revived’ and can live again, a-and it can only be used once.”

“...But, Midoriya, whatd’ya look so down about!?” Mineta exclaimed, surging forward suddenly, his eyes wide. “That’s awesome!”

“Yeah!” agreed Hagakure instantly, nodding vigorously (though it was hard to tell at first). “You’re so lucky, Midoriya! You get a super awesome physical Quirk, and if you’re killed by a villain, you won’t die! What’s the problem?”

Izuku swallowed hard.

Say it.

Just say it.

It’s time.

“...Erm...I-I mean...it’s great, I-I know,” Izuku said nervously, “b-but...y-you see...I-I already used it. Second Chance, I mean.”

There was a beat.

“WHAT!?” his friends chorused in unison, and Izuku flinched back, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Wait, when!?” Kirishima demanded suddenly. “Like, when you were little? Holy crap, Midoriya! You literally—holy crap…”

“When did this happen, Midori?” Mina asked, sounding very scared.

Izuku swallowed. Didn’t answer at first.

There were hands on Izuku’s shoulders, and he was whirled around. “Midoriya, when was this?” Iida asked him seriously, staring him dead in the eyes. Izuku shrunk under his and the others’ gazes, wanting nothing more than to turn and run for all he was worth.

But of course he didn’t do that. His friends were waiting silently for an answer, their expressions asking the same question as Iida, and they deserved to know. They deserved the truth.

Izuku took in a deep, shuddering breath.

“...D-Do...do you guys r-remember...when we did survival training up in the mountains a few months ago?” Izuku asked quietly.  

Silence.

Izuku had said all that was necessary. One by one, he saw the realization—horrible, agonized realization and horror—dawn on each of his friends’ faces. Mineta backed down; Hagakure froze; Ochako’s eyes flew wide with horror; Iida’s hands loosened on his shoulders; Todoroki inhaled sharply; Mina gasped; Yaoyorozu’s hands flew to her mouth; Koda, Sato, Ojiro, and Tokoyami only stared; Aoyama let out a very high-pitched gasp; Jiro looked like a deer in the headlights; Kirishima’s and Kaminari’s mouths hung open; Tsuyu’s face went blank; Shoji’s eyes widened; Sero looked like he was going to be sick; and Bakugō only stared, looking like he couldn’t quite comprehend what he’d just heard.

“...Don’t tell me…” Kirishima whispered. “Midoriya, you aren’t serious...c’mon, dude…”

“Deku…” Ochako whispered. “Y-You...y-you mean…”

“When you were dragged underwater,” Yaoyorozu said quietly, staring at the floor with wide eyes full of denial and fear. “You...you…”

Izuku swallowed again. “...It’s...it’s exactly what you think,” he said with a tiny nod of his head.

“You...you frickin’ died?” Bakugō blurted, but his voice lacked the usual bite.

It was out. It was finally out, and his friends knew the truth. For a long, long time, no one did anything. The room was filled to bursting with tension and unspoken horror, and Izuku felt sick, his stomach doing a weird, nauseating flip.

And then, Kirishima stood as though in a trance, crossed the room, and hugged Izuku tight.

“No way,” Izuku heard Kirishima whisper, and Kirishima’s arms were tight, too tight around him, and he was shaking, too. “N-No way. No way…”

“Deku…” Ochako’s arms wrapped around him from behind, and she buried her face between his shoulder blades. “Y-You actually...y-you mean you actually…”

Everyone else seemed too shocked to move, almost too shocked to think, and Izuku couldn’t blame them. After all, it wasn’t every day your friend told you that they’d literally died.

“Midori...why didn’t you tell us?” Mina asked him, and Izuku cringed at the sound of hurt and betrayal in her voice. “I-I...I-I don’t understand, why didn’t you tell us?”

“You...you know we’re your friends, right?” Kaminari stuttered. “I-I mean...we’re your friends, dude, your classmates. We...we wanna know this kind of stuff.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Izuku stammered clumsily, a dozen of different emotions crashing down on him at once. “I-I was going to, b-but...a-after it happened...I-I didn’t...I d-didn’t think i-it was the right time…”

Another pair of arms wrapped around him; Iida had joined the embrace. He said nothing, and Izuku didn’t want to imagine the thoughts currently running through his friend’s head. It was Iida who’d performed CPR on him for over ten minutes (according to what his classmates had told him). He didn’t even want to try to imagine what Iida was feeling.

“...I understand, Midoriya,” Yaoyorozu said quietly. “I...I understand your reasons. After all that happened...all that you dealt with...I definitely understand. And I think anyone would be wrong not to.”

Izuku took in a deep breath, trying to steady himself mentally (he failed). He wanted to leave. He’d told his friends all he’d planned on telling them, he could leave now, it was time to get out of here before something else happened—

“D-Deku...it d-didn’t...i-it didn’t... hurt, did it?” Ochako whispered, her voice wavering and cracking on nearly every syllable. “Oh, my gosh...D-Deku...w-were...w-were you in pain? D-Did...did you suffer?”

Izuku grimaced, swallowing thickly. “...No,” he said quietly. “N-No, it didn’t hurt…”

“W-What...what was it like?” Sero asked him, equally quietly, his voice full of just as much horror and denial as the next person. “I-I mean, if it didn’t hurt...were you...I-I mean, were you, like... scared?”

“N-No,” Izuku replied, feeling more overwhelmed than ever, and he wanted to leave, before anything else happened. “E-Everything w-was...it...I-I mean...it was all j-just really... numb. I-I don’t...I-I don’t think I was scared…”

In complete honesty, Izuku hadn’t even acknowledged the fact that he’d been dying. That was how numb he’d been. Sure, the thought had crossed his mind, but he hadn’t actually... realized it. He’d just...let himself go, without hardly putting up a fight, and while he knew part of that was because of the villain’s Quirk, he didn’t know how much of it was his own doing.

Was he scared? Did it hurt? He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember. All he remembered was struggling against cold, black chains, before being swallowed up by an even colder, blacker void.

He’d died.

He had literally, literally, died.  

And then, like a bolt of lightning, the weight of everything came crashing down around him.

He didn’t notice his sobs until he was choking on them. He didn’t notice the tightness in his chest until he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t notice his friends’ presence until their arms were around him. He didn’t notice how truly broken he was until this instant, until this moment.

Because it was one thing to confide in All Might and Recovery Girl.

But it was another thing to hide something this massive from his friends.

So he cried. He cried, brokenly, disgustingly, sobbing harder than he’d ever sobbed before in his life (and this said a lot). And he didn’t know why. Why now? Why here? Why was the reality sinking in now after all this time? Had his body and mind been in shock for this long?  

“I’m sorry,” Ochako whispered, her arms tightening around his waist. He felt her tears against his back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, Deku…”

“You were hiding this,” Yaoyorozu breathed, a combination of horrified and awed. “You were hiding this, for all these months…”

“Holy crap, Midoriya,” whispered Sero, shaking his head. “...Holy crap…”

“You...you’re too selfless for your own good, you know that?” Kirishima breathed, his voice trembling. “You were hiding this because you were worried about us, weren’t you? Worried about how we’d take it? Worried about how it would make us feel? You weren’t thinking about yourself at all, were you?”

“Sounds like Midoriya, all right…”

“I’m just so glad you’re okay, Midori…”

“Yeah...seriously, Midoriya...I’m just relieved you’re alive.”

As he sat there, crying his eyes out with his friends surrounding him (even Bakugō, though Izuku was too overwhelmed at the moment to think about it), Izuku felt a sudden weight lift from his chest. He hadn’t even noticed it was there until now.

His friends knew now. They knew. His secret was out.

And even though they were completely and utterly mortified at the thought of losing him, of the knowledge that they had lost him once, “sorrow” wasn’t really the vibe Izuku was getting from them. No, it was relief. His friends were relieved, not that he’d died of course, but that he was still with them now. That even though he’d died, that even though it was something they didn’t want to begin to imagine, right now, in this moment, he was okay. Sobbing, but safe. Broken, but healing. Scarred, but alive.

Because the now was all that really mattered.

Later . . .

It was a concussion. A concussion.

And the members of Class 1-A panicked.

“I told you, he’ll be fine,” Recovery Girl stated for the utmost time, when all remaining nineteen students burst into the infirmary also for the utmost time. Behind her, Midoriya was unconscious on one of the hospital beds, gauze wound tightly around his forehead. “It’s a concussion, and it’ll take some time to heal, but he’ll be alright, understand?”

But that wasn’t enough.

“Excuse me, I left my books in the locker room,” Jiro announced during morning homeroom as she pushed herself to her feet. “Can I go get them?”

Aizawa gave her a funny look, then shrugged and wrote her a quick Hall Pass. Jiro left and didn’t return until after morning homeroom, long after Aizawa had gone.

“Recovery Girl thinks it’ll be some time before he wakes up,” Jiro told the rest of her classmates, fiddling subconsciously with one of her earphone jacks. “That’s what she was telling All Might. But she says he’ll be fine with some rest.”

However, this knowledge did nothing to reassure Jiro or her remaining classmates.

“...I don’t like this,” Kaminari said, shaking his head feverishly at Midoriya’s empty desk. “Nope, I don’t like this one bit. We should go check on him.”

“How?” said Kirishima, shrugging animatedly. “I already tried faking an illness, but Recovery Girl saw right through me, and she’s not letting anyone in the infirmary unless they’re patients!”

“What if someone faked a broken leg?”

“No, I’m pretty sure she’d see through that.”

“What if we actually broke someone’s leg?” Bakugō growled.

Sero’s hand shot into the air. “I volunteer Mineta!”

“Leave me alone!” Mineta slid out of his chair and cowered under the desk.

“I don’t think injuring ourselves is a good idea,” Iida said, frowning.

“Maybe it’s best we leave this to Recovery Girl,” said Yaoyorozu, always the reasonable one of the group. “She’s only keeping us out because she wants to make sure Midoriya gets plenty of rest. The stamina needed to heal a concussion is probably tremendous, even over the course of a few days.”

“...The vents!” Kirishima exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “We could go through the ceiling vents! Y’know, like they do in all the spy movies?”

“No,” said Yaoyorozu and Iida together.

In the end, Izuku was fine. During indoor combat training, part of the roof structure had collapsed over his head and given him a concussion, but thanks to Recovery Girl, he was up and at it again within the week.

The 1-A students met again in the Student Lounge, but this time, Midoriya wasn’t with them. And there was a reason for that.

“I’ve called you all here today on behalf of a certain Izuku Midoriya,” Kirishima announced. “Because, let’s be honest, he gets into more danger than he should, and if we’re not careful, something really bad’s gonna happen to him.”

“I agree!” said Sero, punching his fist into the air. “All in favor of an Izuku Midoriya Protection Squad, say ‘Aye’!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

“Aye!”

Bakugō snorted. “Idiots,” he growled, but that was all he said.

And so, the Izuku Midoriya Protection Squad was born, and the students of Class 1-A made it their sworn duty to look after their friend, no matter what. If he was sick, they’d either take care of him themselves or escort him to Recovery Girl. If he was hurt, same thing. When it came down to dangerous situations, they were constantly looking over their shoulders, keeping an eye on Midoriya at all times.

They were being overprotective, and they knew it.

But they’d rather be overprotective and look like total idiots than to lose their friend for good.

Chapter Text

It look Iida a lot longer than it should’ve for him to realize that the CPR wasn’t working. No matter how many times he pushed, no matter how many times he begged, pleaded with Midoriya to still be there, to wake up, to just simply breathe again, his friend just... didn’t. He didn’t move, he didn’t breathe, he didn’t open his eyes, he didn’t...do anything.

“Come on, Midoriya!!” Iida yelled, tears now streaming down his face as he realized -- or, at least, tried not to realize -- just what this meant. “M-Midoriya, please! Y-You have to...you have to breathe, Midoriya--! Midoriya!!”

There was sobbing all around him, and he was sobbing, too, his hands and body working on autopilot. He knew he was using too much force in the chest compressions, he just knew it, but he couldn’t make himself push any less hard. He just... couldn’t. He was beyond desperate, and hopelessness began eating away at him, because he’d been doing this for so long and Midoriya still wasn’t breathing.

I’m useless!! Iida screeched at himself. I’m USELESS!!

“Midoriya, PLEASE!!” Iida screamed, his voice cracking in a thousand different places. “Midoriya, y-you can’t... you can’t be gone, Midoriya! I won’t let you!! MIDORIYA!!”

But Midoriya didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe.

And Iida finally began to despair.

Kaminari couldn’t believe this was actually happening. There was just no way. There was no way in hell this was actually happening. He stared, breathless and thoughtless, as Iida desperately tried to bring Midoriya back, only to no avail.

“Is this for real?” Kaminari whispered, his eyes burning with tears he knew would be falling any second now. “T-There’s no way this...holy...holy crap. There’s no way...there’s just no freaking way this is real…”

“MIDORIYA, YOU HAVE TO BREATHE!!” Iida shrieked, but Kaminari’s brain already knew what his heart refused to accept. Iida’s attempts...were in vain now. Midoriya…

...Midoriya wasn’t coming back.

Kirishima didn’t want to believe this. He just... couldn’t. Midoriya was his buddy, his bro, so how... how was this happening? Why was this happening? Was this really happening? He was siding with Kaminari on this one. This was too horrible to real. There was no way this could ever actually happen, right?

There was just no way... there was...there was…

“No way,” Kirishima whispered, shaking his head back and forth and stumbling backwards, his eyes locked on Midoriya’s pale, lifeless, unmoving form. “H-Hey, you guys...c-can one of you...j-just punch me? I...I need to wake up. Right now.”

No one moved or spoke. It was like he hadn’t even spoken. All eyes were wide, shimmering, and glued to the still figure of Midoriya. Iida was still screaming at him, still trying desperately to bring their friend and classmate back, but…

...But…

“Come on, Midoriya,” Kirishima whispered, shaking his head. “D-Don’t do this to me, man. Don’t do...don’t do this to us. Y-You can’t be...you can’t be...Midoriya, you can’t--”

Iida let out a sudden scream of frustration, throwing himself backwards and punching the ground unproductively, every inch of his body trembling. “You’re useless!” Iida screamed at himself, punching the ground again. “YOU’RE USELESS!!”  

“I-Iida…” Yaoyorozu whispered, her voice choked with tears, “d-don’t...don’t say that…”

“There’s no way,” Kaminari was still chanting, shaking his head feverishly. “There’s no way, there’s no way, there’s just no freaking way…”

“M-M-Midoriya, you can stop the joke now,” Sero gave a shaky laugh, which quickly broke off into a sob. “T-This stopped being funny a long time ago, Midoriya…y-y-you can stop now...”

Kirishima gritted his teeth, his tears finally beginning to spill over. The gravity of the situation slammed into him all at once, and he came to a sudden, terrifying realization, all too suddenly, before he was ready for it.

Midoriya was gone.

And he was never coming back.

Yaoyorozu felt like she was going to be sick.

Her throat was clogged by an immovable lump that she couldn’t swallow back no matter how hard she tried, and ragged sobs squeezed from between her clenched teeth. Her hair was still dripping wet from when she’d went underwater after Midoriya and the villain, but she didn’t even care. Her skin felt like ice cubes, and her wet clothes clung to her skin, but she didn’t bother fashioning herself new ones.

Hagakure was sobbing beside her, and Yaoyorozu wanted to comfort her, only she couldn’t, because honestly, Yaoyorozu wasn’t sure she’d be able to comfort anyone right now. As strong-willed as she was, she just...couldn’t do it. It was taking all her willpower not to scream as it was.

“DEKU!!” Ochako suddenly rushed passed her and threw herself down at Midoriya’s side. Iida had long since turned away, and he had his hands covering his face, tears streaking from between his fingers. He didn’t look at Ochako, or at anyone else.

“Deku, no!!” Ochako screamed, reaching out and taking his shoulders. “C-Come on, D-Deku! You can’t...you can’t do this!! We’re gonna...w-we’re gonna be heroes, remember? R-Remember? Y-You said...y-you said we were gonna be heroes, together, Deku!! D-Don’t... don’t you remember? You promised! You promised, and y-you…”

She broke off with a harsh, ragged, guttural sob, and Yaoyorozu cupped her hands around her mouth, horror and disbelief engulfing her entire frame.

“Deku, you c-can’t…” Ochako was sobbing again, her tears splashing against Midoriya’s pale cheeks. “Y-You can’t...you can’t be...d-don’t... d-d-don’t do this... p-please, there’s no way you’re...y-you’re…”

And she leaned over him, her head against his chest, and let out a loud, long, guttural scream.

Yaoyorozu looked away, unable to watch her friend and classmate in this kind of pain, let alone look at Midoriya’s still body any longer.

I couldn’t beat the villain in time.

The thought struck her so quickly it was like a bolt of lightning, and she actually jumped, her tears halting for a fraction of a second before resuming.

This is…

...This is my fault.

Todoroki was grounded to the spot. He felt like his feet had been nailed to the ground, and he couldn’t move, no matter how hard he tried or how badly he wanted to. This wasn’t right. This just... wasn’t right. It was wrong. It was so, so, so, so, so, so wrong, and it just...there was no way something this wrong could ever happen. There was no way. 

As badly as he wanted to move, as badly as he wanted to do something, he found that he just... couldn’t. Midoriya was the first true friend Todoroki ever had, the first person to look at him as anything other than just “the son of the Number Two Hero,” and not only that, but he gave up winning the Sports Festival just for Todoroki’s sake.

He was the first friend Todoroki ever had, the first person Todoroki felt truly cared about him.

And now, that same person was lying, motionless, breathless, lifeless, on the ground in front of him, and now...Todoroki just couldn’t move. He was just...so shocked and horrified by all of this that he literally couldn’t move a muscle. He could hardly breathe.

“...Midoriya…” he managed to whisper, his voice completely drowned out by the sobs and cries of his classmates around him. “M-Midoriya…?”

And that was all he could say before his mind was overwhelmed by a blank, inescapable nothingness.

Midoriya was dead.

Dead.

Todoroki’s first real friend, the first person who actually cared about him, the first person who actually attempted to help Todoroki, was…

...Gone.    

Todoroki gritted his teeth, his eyes burning and his fists balling at his sides. He hadn’t been able to move before, but now, he trembled, his shoulders shaking with every inhale and exhale respectively.

And he cursed the world.

He cursed the world that let Midoriya die, cursed the world that let this happen, cursed the world that took Todoroki’s first and closest friend away from him.

Not for the first time, and definitely not for the last, Todoroki prayed this was all some horrible nightmare.

(But he already knew, all too well, that this bitter reality was a nightmare he would never wake up from.)

I was too late.

That was the thought Tsuyu kept coming back around to, as she stared at the lifeless, unmoving form of Midoriya, still soaked from head to toe in salty water. Tsuyu hadn’t accepted the reality, hadn’t wanted to accept the reality, because how could she accept a reality in which one of her closest friends was murdered right in front of her?

I was too late.

Ochako was screaming again, yelling Midoriya’s name (or, rather, the endearing nickname she knew him by) in rapid session.

I was too late.

“I’m worthless,” Iida whispered harshly, his fists balled against the ground and tears streaming down his face. “I c-couldn’t...I’m useless…!”

I was too late.

“You frickin’ villain, I’LL KILL YOU!!” Bakugō screeched, launching himself at the unconscious villain. “JUST WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?”

“Bakugō, stop!” Sero yelled, swinging his tape around and catching Bakugō around the chest, yanking him back to keep him from murdering the villain (as Tsuyu had no doubt he would). “T-This...this isn’t the time!”

I was too late.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?” Bakugō roared, struggling to break free from Sero’s hold. “DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE OKAY WITH WHAT HE DID!!”

I was too late.

“I’m not, there’s no way I am!!” Sero screamed, yanking again. “But you can’t do this right now! You’re...you’re not making this any easier!”

I was too late.

And, quite uncharacteristically, Bakugō actually stopped, though he looked no less furious, his hands balled into tight, shaking fists at his sides. Tsuyu wasn’t positive, either, but she was pretty sure something that definitely wasn’t sweat rolled down Bakugō’s face.

I was too late.

The reality finally caught up with her, and Tsuyu’s tears spilled over.

Midoriya…

...I’m sorry.

...I’m so, so sorry…

“I brought help!” Mina screamed as she raced up the mountain, tripping over a dozen times on unsteady, shaking feet. “How’s Midori--!?”

She skidded to a halt as though she’d slammed into an invisible wall. She could feel it already, could feel something in the air, something horrible. She didn’t even need to see anything before she already knew exactly what’d happened.

“...No,” she whispered, her eyes going wide with horror. “No, no, no, no, nonononono no, there’s no... no…”

She was aware of All Might and Aizawa running passed her towards the scene, but she herself was grounded to the spot, unable to move or think beyond the fear and horror that suddenly engulfed every fibre of her being.

Ojiro stepped towards her, a deep sorrow ebbed in his eyes, along with tears that glistened in the moonlight and rolled down his cheeks. Mina’s breath caught in her throat, a sour taste in her mouth.

“D-Don’t tell me…” she pleaded, shaking her head. “Y-You don’t mean...Midori, he’s...he’s...h-h-he can’t be… he’s not d-d--”

She couldn’t say it. She just couldn’t say it, because saying it meant it was true. Saying that one word now meant reality, and no, no, no, no, no, she wasn’t going to accept this reality. This was one reality she just wasn’t going to accept.

“...Ashido…” Ojiro looked away, gritting his teeth tightly behind his lips. “Y-You...you did the best you could, bringing help…”

“No,” Mina whispered, shaking her head in denial. “D-Don’t talk like that, Ojiro. M-Midori’s fine, i-isn’t he? H-He’s okay, right?”

Ojiro said nothing, and his lack of response was enough to tell her all she needed to know.

Mina stared at him for a long, long moment, and then, she sank to the ground, hew knees scraping the hard, cold dirt below. “No,” she begged, hanging her head. “No, no, no, no, this isn’t happening...this can’t be happening…”

Ojiro still said nothing, and Mina didn’t know whether or not she wanted him to.

“W-We were...w-we were going to...w-we were going to meet for study sessions,” Mina whispered, tears spilling down her face and sobs breaking her voice. “H-He promised...h-he’d help me with exams whenever M-Momo was busy...h-he promised he’d help me…”

Ojiro inhaled sharply, but still said nothing. Mina realized he was in just as much shock as she was and probably couldn’t find the right words to say. And of course, Mina couldn’t, either.

And honestly, how could she? Midori...the most sweetest, compassionate and selfless boy Mina knew, was just... gone. Just like that. Gone forever, and nothing was ever going to bring him back.

All Might thought it was a joke.

It had to be a joke, because there was no way something like this could ever actually happen. There was no way Midoriya could... die, surrounded by his sobbing, despairing classmates. There was no way. This world was messed up, this was something All Might knew well, but certainly it wasn’t this cruel.

It wasn’t.

It just couldn’t be.

This wasn’t real. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t, All Might wouldn’t accept it.

Midoriya wasn’t moving. That was the first thing All Might noticed. Aizawa was behind him, dealing with the villain (probably harsher than was necessary), but All Might couldn’t bring himself to care. All that mattered right now was his student, still and pale and most definitely not breathing.

That was the second thing he realized. Midoriya wasn’t breathing.

His feet moved on their own, and his knees his the ground before he registered himself kneeling. Ochako was bent over Midoriya, sobbing openly and ardently, and it didn’t take a genius to know what had happened.

This was too twisted and wrong to ever be real.

“...Young Uraraka,” All Might said, reaching out and gently touching her shoulder. She flinched and jumped, whirling around to look at him. Her eyes were wide, puffy, and bloodshot, and tears continued to stream down her face.

This isn’t real. It’s just a dream. A dream. That’s all this is. It’s going to be fine. Midoriya is fine. Everything’s alright…

“...Let me see him for a moment,” All Might said thickly, and the words were truly a struggle to get out, because in honesty, All Might didn’t want to see this. Because if he saw it, with his own two eyes, it meant that it was real, and All Might wasn’t ready for that.

Ochako nodded shakily and sat back, letting loose another choked sob. Yaoyorozu moved over and crouched beside her, and Ochako lunged into her friend’s arms immediately, her sobs becoming screams.

And, honestly, All Might felt like screaming, too. There was no doubt about it now. Midoriya was still, silent, pale as death (and the word “death” felt so, so, so wrong), and All Might could see it now. The boy’s chest wasn’t rising and falling. He wasn’t breathing.

Midoriya wasn’t breathing.

And All Might’s mind went blank. This boy, his boy, the one he’d begun to see as a son since the day he chose Midoriya to be his successor, wasn’t breathing anymore. Wasn’t moving, wasn’t smiling, wasn’t laughing, wasn’t crying, wasn’t alive. The life was just... gone.

“I’m sorry,” Iida whispered, his voice strained and harsh and choked, and All Might tore his eyes away from Midoriya briefly to look at Iida. Iida didn’t meet his gaze, staring off at nothing with a distant, horrified look in his red, swollen eyes. “I-I t-tried, but I couldn’t...I couldn’t... dammit, I c-c-couldn’t…”

“...It wasn’t your fault,” All Might said thickly. “You did everything you could, Young Iida. This...this isn’t your fault.”

Iida ducked his head, his tears splashing against the ground, and all the while, All Might just... couldn’t believe this was actually happening. His mind was fogged with denial, and while he accepted the facts, while the evidence was all there, he just couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

This couldn’t be real. This was just too horrible and twisted and wrong to ever be reality.

And yet…

And yet…

When All Might reached out and rested his hand on Midoriya’s forearm, the boy’s skin was cold. Midoriya didn’t react to the touch, either. Just remained still, motionless, breathless, and…

And…

Oh, there was no way…

This just...this just couldn’t happen. Not like this. Not like this. Not now and not ever. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

All Might wasn’t aware of anything else after that. He heard Aizawa talking from what seemed like far away, saying something about heading back to the cabin, and though All Might noticed the way Aizawa’s voice shuddered and cracked, he just couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it.  

What was important right now was Midoriya.

Dead.

The word struck All Might like an icy arrow, straight to the heart.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

His successor.

Dead.

One of the students he’d sworn to protect.

Dead.

The boy he’d come to see as a son.

Dead.

And there was no changing this reality. This was one thing All Might couldn’t change, no matter how badly, how desperately he wanted to.

When it was time to leave, All Might carefully -- oh so carefully -- scooped Midoriya’s unmoving, lifeless form into his arms, inwardly (and outwardly, probably) wincing at just how limp the boy was.

No.

This wasn’t Midoriya anymore.

This was...a body. Midoriya was gone. The life and warmth that was Midoriya wasn’t there anymore.

And when his students weren’t looking -- when All Might didn’t need to put up a brave front for their sake -- he held Midoriya closer and finally let the tears fall.

Death was something Aizawa saw often. Part of being a hero was being willing to throw your life away at the drop of a hat. If it came down to your life or the life of someone else, it was always your life that was lost. It was a part of the job. You practically signed up for it.

But not this time. No. No. No. This wasn’t something Aizawa could just brush off as part of the “job.” This was different. Oh so different.

Midoriya. His student. Dead. Murdered. By the hands of a villain.

For the first time in his life, Aizawa wanted to murder somebody. He wanted to murder the villain, he wanted to see the villain dead. After all, he deserved it. He deserved to die after what he did to one of Aizawa’s precious students.

Sure, his students were brats sometimes, but no matter how many times they screwed up or did something reckless, Aizawa still cared about them, like they were his own children. This group of crazy teenagers had come to mean so much to him, and now…

And now one of them was dead. Gone. Forever. Just like that. At the drop of a hat.

And Aizawa didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about it, not now and not ever, but when he did...when he did think about it, it was a lot harder to keep his haunted sorrow hidden.

Because Midoriya had been murdered. Murdered. And Aizawa hadn’t been able to do a single thing about it.

...Some hero I turned out to be…

...I couldn’t even save my own student.

And if, when he was alone, Aizawa cried until his throat was hoarse, well…

...That was his own business.

Inko got the feeling that something was wrong when Izuku didn’t come home on the day he was supposed to. According to what the principal had told her, the students of Class 1-A had gone into the mountains for Survival Training and would return in three days, but it was day four now, and there was still no sign of her son.

She didn’t know what it was, but...something in her heart told her that something terrible had happened. Of course she brushed it off, though, because Izuku was obviously fine. She was just being paranoid again over his safety. He was fine, though. No matter what, he’d always come home to her, and this time would be no different.

She was right in the middle of making katsudon, later on that evening around dinner time, when there was a knock on the door, and she smiled, knowing it had to be Izuku, as she raced to open it. At the time, she didn’t register the fact that he’d knocked instead of just using his spare key to open the door.

She unlocked the door and opened it, but it wasn’t her son who was standing there. It was Shouta Aizawa (and it took Inko a second to recall his name), her son’s homeroom teacher at the U.A. and a pro hero as well. She remembered his eyes as worn and weary, but this time, his eyes were bloodshot.

“...What’s this about?” Inko could barely speak, something in her heart clenching in fear. “W-Where’s Izuku…?”

The man before her swallowed heavily. “You’re Inko Midoriya, correct?” he asked, even though by the tone of his voice he already knew the answer. “Izuku Midoriya’s mother?”

Inko sucked in a sharp inhale of breath. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good. “W-Wh...where’s my son?” she asked instead of answering, looking behind Aizawa, expecting to see Izuku somewhere. “W-Where...where is he…?”

Aizawa swallowed again. “...I’m sorry to tell you this,” he said, “and...and no words could ever describe how truly, genuinely sorry I am.”

And Inko’s heart stopped. When it started back again, it was pounding harder than ever. She felt lightheaded.

“...Your son, Izuku...he’s…”

Inko shook her head feverishly, bringing her hands to her mouth.

“...He was murdered. I’m...I’m truly sorry.”

Inko lost the ability to stand, and she crashed to her knees, her hands moving from her face to clutch at her heart. She’d lost the ability to think a long time ago, overwhelmed by this fear and sadness and horror that she couldn’t even begin to describe.

“You’re joking,” Inko said quietly, looking up at Aizawa, desperate for an answer. She laughed, shakily and giddily, and the tears began flowing. “You have to be joking. This is a joke, right? Izuku…he can’t be...”

One look at Aizawa’s face told her all she needed to know. The gravity of what this meant slammed into Inko all at once, and she buried her face in her hands with a long, guttural wail, her sobs breaking her voice.

This wasn’t possible. No, no, no, this wasn’t possible. Her boy, her precious, irreplaceable baby, he was…

He was…

...No, this wasn’t possible. This couldn’t happen. This just... couldn’t happen.

And yet, as much as she tried to deny it, the reality was right in front of her, and she couldn’t deny the truth.

The day of Midoriya’s funeral was the worst day of Tokoyami’s life.

His classmates were mourning around him. Dark Shadow wasn’t his usual self, either, hovering over Tokoyami’s head all throughout the funeral, also crying. Tokoyami didn’t want to believe any of this, but...it was a funeral. This was real. All of this, all of this horrible nightmare was real.

Ever since the Sports Festival, Midoriya had become a friend that Tokoyami could say he truly, honestly respected, and Tokoyami couldn’t say that about a lot of people. Midoriya was an incredible person, with a heart of gold, and he’d respected and trusted Tokoyami just as much as Tokoyami respected and trusted him.

There were no testimonies. When the funeral was over, everyone dispersed, never speaking a word to each other. It seemed wrong to not say anything, but at the same time, it seemed even more wrong to try and engage in conversation.

So, in a mutual, unspoken agreement, everyone just... left, Tokoyami included. And Tokoyami knew that if anyone had tried to get up and say a testimony, they would have broken down immediately, no matter who it was. Even Bakugō wouldn’t have been able to get more than a word or two in.

They went home, each to their own. School was cancelled for a week by Aizawa-sensei. At the time, Aizawa had said the reason for it was police investigation, but Tokoyami knew the truth. Aizawa wanted to give the students (and teachers alike) some time to cope, some time to themselves.

And while Tokoyami appreciated the gesture, he knew that no amount of time would help him or the others get over what had happened. There was no “getting over this,” not now and not ever.

This was the truth Tokoyami knew, but refused to accept.  

Ochako couldn’t breathe.

She tried paying attention when they finally returned to class, she really, really did, but she just couldn’t. There was a permanent lump in her throat, and no matter how hard she tried, there was no getting rid of it. There was a tightness in her chest, like someone had wrapped steel bands around her and squeezed tightly.

She heard Aizawa talking, but she couldn’t make out a word he was saying. She felt sick, and tears began to sting her eyes. In the back of the room was an empty desk: Deku’s desk, a desk that would remain empty for...for as long as they were in the U.A. And even if someone transferred into Class 1-A in Deku’s place, even when Class 1-A changed classrooms, that desk would always be known as Deku’s desk, no matter who sat in it.

Finally, Ochako rose to her feet, slipping up a hand. Aizawa stopped talking, and she could feel her classmates’ eyes on her, but she refused to look at them. She was having a really, really hard time holding the tears back.

“C-Can I go to the nurse’s office?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from cracking although it did anyway. “I-I...I have a headache.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Actually, she thought it’d be a miracle if she finished the day without getting sick, but at the same time, she wasn’t planning on going to the nurse’s office. She just wanted to get out of the classroom before she broke down in front of everyone.

Aizawa nodded, gestured for her to come forward, and she did, heading to the front of the class and ignoring her classmates. Aizawa handed her the Hall Pass with a quick order of, “Give this to the old lady once you get there, alright?” and Ochako nodded, already on her way out.

She closed the door behind her and looked down, just for a moment, at the Hall Pass Aizawa had given her. It was then she realized that it wasn’t a Hall Pass, rather a note he’d written hastily for her.

Uraraka -

I’m giving you a sick day. Go home and rest.

Ochako swallowed thickly, stuffed the note into her back pocket, and started down the hallway in the opposite direction. So Aizawa knew her true intentions. And it was pretty obvious, too, when she thought about it. Her classmates probably knew she didn’t really want to go to the nurse’s office.

Ochako started down the hall, keeping her head down. No one else was around, which was good; they wouldn’t have to see her tears, and she wouldn’t have to see them. She didn’t think she’d be able to speak without cracking.

There was a dimly lit hallway on the other side of the school; she’d found it one day while walking with Iida and...and Deku. She knew exactly where it was. It was a place she could be alone, where no one else would be able to find her unless they followed her.

She could be alone.

She stepped into the hallway and stood there, her entire body rigid. She shut her eyes, and instantly, without her consent, she was flooded with memories of a better time, memories of her and Deku walking the long hallways towards their classes, reading the news on their smartphones, fangirling over pro heroes…

The tears finally broke free, and Ochako sobbed, burying her face in her hands. She lost her balance, stumbling to the side and slamming back-first into the wall, but she didn’t care. She slid to the floor, pulling her hands from her face and wrapping her arms around her legs instead.

Her best friend was gone. He was... gone, gone forever, and she just...she couldn’t stand it. Everywhere she looked, there was a memory of Deku. Everywhere she turned, she was slammed with the reality that he wasn’t here anymore.

She sobbed, harder than she’d ever sobbed in her entire life, that lump in her throat and ache in her chest doing nothing to help. She couldn’t breathe again, not that it mattered; she hadn’t been able to breathe freely ever since that horrible day on the mountaintop.

“Uraraka.”

Ochako’s head shot up, and she found herself staring into Iida’s pained, glistening eyes. He was standing at the front of the hallway, keeping a distance between her and him, no doubt to give her her own space.

“I-I-Iida,” Ochako stammered, wiping her tears away (to no avail -- new tears replaced them in an instant). Her voice was thick and strained, and every word was a struggle to get out. “I-I-I’m s-s-sorry, I-I just…”

Iida looked down briefly, and then, meeting her eyes again, he raised his hands and spread his arms.

She waited a beat, and then, she was on her feet, running towards him and leaping into his open arms. Her tears fell harder than ever, and she squeezed Iida impossibly tight.

“I can’t do it, Iida!” she screamed against his shoulder, her chest heaving with every word. “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--”

In a better time, she, Iida and Deku were laughing, walking home together after school, running through practice drills, eating lunch at the cafeteria…

“I...I know,” Iida said thickly, and Ochako was brought back to the present. The present she no longer wanted to be a part of. The present that Deku wasn’t a part of.

“I want him back!” Ochako screamed, loudly and longly, burying her face against Iida’s shoulder. Her entire body was trembling, and in this embrace, she could feel Iida shaking, too. “I WANT HIM BACK, IIDA!! I...I j-just…”

“It would be bad luck if you fell, right?”

“Oh, well I think it’s an awesome name! It sounds like the Japanese word for, ‘You can do it,’ so I like it!”

“I used to hate this name, but someone changed the meaning of it.”

“I made a strategy for you to use against Kacchan!”

The memories came flooding again, and she couldn’t escape them no matter how hard she tried. These little snippets of time, of a better time...they seemed so long ago.

“I-I just...w-want my friend b-back,” Ochako whispered, and she broke off into another round of sobs and tears.  

Iida tightened his embrace. “...I know,” he said, his voice thick, and Ochako could hear the tears behind the words. “I...I want him back, too.”

And Ochako cried harder.

If this was truly reality…

...A reality without Deku in it, well…

...She didn’t want it.

Deku and Bakugō weren’t friends. They’d never been friends, so Bakugō couldn’t understand why it bothered him so much now that Deku just... wasn’t there anymore. Bakugō literally could not put his finger on it. He didn’t care about Deku. Deku was just a useless nobody who somehow managed to squeeze his way into the Hero Academy, he meant nothing to Bakugō.

But...if that was truly the case…

Bakugō wouldn’t have felt the way he did. He wouldn’t have felt this sudden emptiness and despair. While Deku and Bakugō had never exactly been “friends,” Bakugō had known Deku since they were little, so if Bakugō did have “friends,” Deku would be the closest thing to one.

And now he was…

Gone.

But of course, Bakugō wasn’t going to let the others see just how much it upset him. So, when he was alone, he took his anger out on random walls, locker rooms, trees outside the building, anything.

And if the teachers or his classmates noticed the burn marks, they ignored it, which was fine with Bakugō.

After all, Bakugō didn’t care.

(Or, at least, that was what he kept telling himself.)

It was a week later, and Hagakure was watching the news in the Student Lounge. A new hero had debuted, a strong hero with a truly fascinating Quirk, and with a wide, beaming smile, Hagakure leapt to her feet.

“He’s so cool!” Hagakure gushed, turning and making for the door. “I can’t wait to tell Midoriya about this, he’s gonna flip!”

She barely made it two steps before she remembered.

It was Sato’s idea to start something called “The Box,” and Mineta and Aoyama were the ones who helped carry it out. They found an old filing box with a lid, cut a thin, five-inch slit through the top, and taped the lid down so no one could open it.

On the front and top of the box, they wrote the words, “To Midoriya,” and every now and then, one of their classmates would take a sheet of paper, write a quick note, and slip it into The Box. There was one rule: The Box was never to be opened.

It didn’t have to be anything major or special. Mineta wrote little tiny snippets of sentences, things like, “You’re a great friend, Midoriya,” and Aoyama did likewise. Neither of them knew Midoriya well enough to write much of anything else, but they wrote whatever they could.

The rest of Class 1-A did likewise, sometimes short letters and sometimes longer letters. Todoroki slipped in three one day; Ochako added a letter at least once every day; Iida added letters periodically, but when he did add them, he always added at least three; and so on and so forth.

Before long, The Box was so full they couldn’t cram a single letter in, and they made another box just like the first one, and the process repeated. Before long, they’d gone through four boxes, which they kept by Midoriya’s still-empty desk in Classroom 1-A. The letters just kept coming in, too. Everyone had something to say.

All except Jiro, who hadn’t written a single thing to Midoriya since that tragic day on the mountaintop.

Jiro was in the Student Lounge, lying on her back on one of the couches, when her phone rang for what felt like the utmost time that day. She snatched her phone off the side table and stared at the contact with a merciless glare: the word “Dad” stared back at her.

It wasn’t the first time her father had tried to call her, but this was the first time Jiro decided to answer. She accepted the call, got to her feet, and spoke.

“Yeah, what?” she snapped, her voice coming out harsher than she’d meant for it to.

“Hey, Kyouka! I’ve been tryin’ to reach ya for days! How are you, sweetheart?”

Jiro gritted her teeth. “Oh, just fine,” she spat bitterly. “It’s not like my classmate just died or anything.”

There was a long beat of pure silence on the other side of the line. “...I saw it on the news,” her father said slowly. “I know exactly what happened, Kyouka. I wanted to call in and check on ya, make sure you were alright.”

Jiro bit back her next exclamation. Her father didn’t deserve her anger, but she was just so... mad. Not at her dad, not at her classmates, not even at the villain who’d done this, but rather... herself.

“It was my fault, Dad,” Jiro said, maintaining the bitter edge while also managing to soften her tone considerably. “It’s...it’s my fault Midoriya...it’s my fault my classmate, my friend…”

“Kyouka, you ain’t gonna like what I’m gonna say, but it wasn’t your fault.”

Jiro’s fury returned in a flash, and she completely exploded. “That’s what everyone’s told me!” she screeched, swinging her arm around and punching the wall unproductively. “They all say the same thing, that it wasn’t my fault, that there was nothing I could do about it, and--and it’s a lie!” Jiro’s voice cracked, but she pumelled on. “They’re all lying!! They know it’s my fault!! They know it is!!”

“...Kyouka, no one blames you. No one, ya hear?”

“No, I don’t hear!!” Jiro screamed. “I don’t!! I don’t care that they don’t blame me! It’s the fact that they say it’s not my fault when they know it is!”

She was angry. Angry with herself. Because she’d been the one who was on look-out. She’d been assigned to the job as part of the Survival Training. And it was because she failed that she didn’t notice the villain, and because she didn’t notice the villain that Midoriya leapt into save her, and because he leapt into save her that he...that he…

“HE WAS MY F-FRIEND!!” Jiro screamed, her voice breaking without her willing it to, and her tears finally broke free, tears of frustration, anger, and most importantly, regret and loss. “HE WAS MY FRIEND, DAD, MY CLASSMATE! AND...A-AND... AND HE DIDN’T DESERVE TO DIE!!”

She punched the wall again, wishing she could go back in time and change what’d happened, wishing she could go back and notice the villain, wishing she could go back and make sure Midoriya didn’t try to save her.

“W-WHY HIM!!?” Jiro screeched, slamming her fist against the wall once again. “WHY HIM!? WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HIM!? HE WAS...HE WAS THE LAST PERSON IN THE WORLD WHO DESERVED IT!! WHY HIM!? WHY COULDN’T…”

She sucked in a shaky breath, her throat feeling like it’d been torn to ribbons.

“WHY COULDN’T IT HAVE BEEN ME!?” she yelled. She was talking to herself now, not her father, and she didn’t care. She punched the wall for the utmost time; something in her hand cracked, and she was sure she’d fractured something, but she didn’t care even now.

“WHY!?”

Punch.

"WHY!?”

Punch.

"WHY!?”

Punch.

"WHY!?”

Punch.

“WHY!!?”

She punched the wall one final time, and this time, she slid to the floor in a heap, her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold the phone. She was breathing heavily, and it seemed impossible to draw enough air into her lungs. Her tears were beginning to pick up speed, and no matter how hard she tried to get ahold of herself, to tell herself that she didn’t have the right to cry like this, she couldn’t stop.

“H-H-He d-d-didn’t deserve it, Dad,” Jiro whispered, her voice cracking and breaking in a million different places. “M-M-Midoriya d-d-didn’t deserve t-to die.”

Her father said nothing, and Jiro hadn’t expected him to.

Midoriya -

You’re an amazing friend. Thanks for what you did for us at the USJ. You were super cool! I hope I can be a hero like you someday.

- Mineta

Midori -

Thank you soooo much for being willing to help me study. I bet we would’ve had a lot of fun. And...I’m sorry I couldn’t bring help fast enough.

- Mina

Midoriya -

Thank you for what you did for me at the Sports Festival. You’re an incredible friend, and I don’t think words could ever describe just how much of an impact you had on my life. You changed me, Midoriya, changed me for the better, and...thank you. Thank you so much.

- Todoroki

Midoriya -

Hey there, buddy! Um, I’m horrible at writing letters, but I wanted to say something, so...erm...thanks, for being such a great bro and friend. This place really sucks without you.

- Kirishima

Midoriya -

Heya, dude. It feels pretty screwed up, all of this. I mean, you’re just...not here anymore, and it feels super, super messed up. Like, a LOT, and...well...crap, man, I don’t even know what to say. Just...thanks, for everything, I guess, and...and I’m sorry there wasn’t more I could do.

- Kaminari

Deku -

Hi, Deku. I...I wish you were here. It’s just...not the same without you. I miss you, a lot, and...and I think about you every day. You’re my best friend, and...and, I wish I’d cherished the time I had with you more. If I’d known all of THIS would happen…

Sorry, I’m just...I’m just rambling right now. I’ll write again, when...when I can think a little clearer. Thanks...thanks for being such a great friend, Deku. I’ll...I’ll never forget you. I promise.

- Ochako

Midoriya -

I’m sorry. I’m truly, honestly sorry. You gave me the responsibility of Class Representative, and when it came down to it, I failed to protect you...and to save you. I’m sorry, Midoriya, for everything. You believed in me, and I let you down.

Thank you for believing in me, and for helping me when I was in a rough spot. I admire your bravery more than I could ever say, and...and I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I failed, not just as the Class Representative, but also as your friend.

- Iida

Midoriya -

Thank you for believing in me at the Sports Festival, and for letting me a part of your team. You’re a true, brilliant genius, and an even better friend, and thank you. I’m sorry it had to end this way.

- Tokoyami

Midoriya -

I failed you. I couldn’t stop the villain in time to save you, and...and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, and I know I’ll never be able to say that enough times. I wish I could have known you better.

And...and thank you for saving Jiro. You’re a truly amazing person and friend.

- Yaoyorozu

Midoriya -

You’re the true hero among us.

- Aoyama

Midoriya -

You’re a great friend. Thank you.

-Kouda

Midoriya -

You were incredible at the Sports Festival. I’m sorry I didn’t take the chance to get to know you better. You seem like an amazing person. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that much out.

I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you, and I’m sorry I could do nothing to save you. Thank you for your compassion and your kindness.

- Shoji

Midoriya -

Even though you didn’t have the chance to actually graduate, you’re a hero to us. It takes an insane amount of courage to do what you did to save Jiro. I always respected you, but now, I respect you ten times more.

- Sato

Midoriya -

Dude, what you did was crazy. It really made me take a look at myself and think, “Would I have done what Midoriya did, even if I knew it would kill me?” You’re seriously the most heroic in our classroom, and nothing will ever change that. I’m so glad I had the chance to know you. You’re a great friend, not just to me, but to everyone in Class 1-A.

- Sero

Midoriya -

I didn’t really get the chance to know you as well as I would’ve liked, but you’re a seriously incredible person, and an equally incredible friend. Thanks for always being there for us.

- Ojiro

Deku -

You’re an idiot. A frickin’ idiot. You know that, right? You’d BETTER know that. Ever since you went and freaking DIED on everyone, I’ve been...ARGH, I’ve been UPSET, okay!? What makes you think you had the right to go frickin’ DIE on all of us, huh!? Just who do you think you are!?

- Bakugō

Midoriya -

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you in time. This is my fault.

- Tsuyu

Midoriya -

I saw this really cool hero on TV the other day, and I was going to tell you, but...it actually took me a minute or two before I remembered that you aren’t really HERE anymore. It’s not the same without you by a long shot, and...and I miss you. A lot. You were a good friend, a classmate that I trusted and respected, and I’m sorry it had to end like this. I’m really sorry.

- Hagakure

And finally, finally, though it took a long, long time before she could bring herself to do it, Jiro wrote her own little letter to Midoriya as well.

Midoriya -

I’m sorry. I’m truly, honestly sorry. You saved me, and I couldn’t do anything for you in return. I failed in the position I’d been given, and I failed you, too, as a friend. I know what you’d say: it’s not my fault and I should forgive myself, but...I don’t think that’s ever gonna happen. No matter how much time passes...I’m never going to be able to forgive myself. Not for this.

And...and thank you. Thank you for saving me. Even though...even though you knew it meant danger and...and, well, death...for you, you still jumped in and saved me. And...even though I wish you hadn’t...thanks anyway.

And I’m sorry. Again. This...this never should’ve happened. I wish it’ve been me instead.

- Jiro

Chapter Text

Inko Midoriya was always thrilled when Izuku came home from school in the evenings.

Ever since joining the U.A., he’d always come home with new stories and would tell her all about the new friends he’d made, what new things he was learning, and Inko, though she didn’t always understand some of the terminology he used, couldn’t have been happier for him.

If she had any complaints--any complaints at all--it would be that he always came home sprouting new injuries, scars or bruises, something she knew she’d never fully be over. As much as her son wanted to be a hero, as passionate as he was about it, it always hurt her--almost physically sometimes--to see her baby in pain.

Tonight, though, was a bit different. When her son came home that evening, he didn’t seem injured, but he looked exhausted, worn down, and worried, too.

“Welcome home, sweetie!” she called, smiling at him regardless of her concern. “Are you hungry? I could make something for you if you like.”

But Izuku shook his head. “N-No, I’m alright,” he said. “T-Thanks, though…”

That was the first sign that told Inko that something was wrong. She couldn’t tell what was wrong, but she knew her son well enough to tell that something was bothering him.

“Alright,” she said. “Well, let me know if you change your mind, okay? There’s plenty I could heat up for you.”

He smiled at her, but she could tell it was forced. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, and though she could tell he meant it, that he was sincere, something was definitely wrong.

She didn’t push it, though. She trusted he’d bring it to her if it was something he needed help with.

She didn’t see Izuku again until a little later on that evening, while she was washing dishes at the sink. She heard Izuku’s quiet, shuffling footsteps, followed by his timid voice:

“Hey, Mom...do-do you have a minute? I need to talk to you about something…”

“Sure, Izuku,” Inko replied, smiling softly at her son, shutting off the tap and drying her hands on the front of her apron. “What do you want to talk about, sweetheart?”

“E-Erm…” Izuku twisted his foot into the ground, his hands behind his back. He didn’t meet her eyes. “J-Just something...at school…”

Inko nodded understandingly. “Do you want to sit down in the living room?” she asked, and when he nodded (although shakily), they headed out of the kitchen and to the living area.

Izuku sank down onto the couch, and Inko sat beside him a moment later, waiting patiently for him to speak. He seemed really nervous about something, and she wasn’t going to push him into telling her what was wrong, no matter how worried she was.

“E-Erm...I-I...I don’t really know where to start, um…” Izuku fiddled restlessly, wringing his hands together.

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders gently, offering him an equally gentle smile. “It’s alright,” she said, “just...take your time.”

But she was worried now. There weren’t many instances she could recall seeing Izuku this bothered and this unsure. It was beginning to scare her, if she was completely honest.

“Okay…” Izuku finally stopped fidgeting and turned towards her, though he didn’t meet her gaze. “I...I-I was born Quirkless, right?”

“Yes,” Inko nodded.

“W-Well...the doctors, erm...they were wrong,” Izuku went on quietly. “I-I mean, no, they weren’t wrong, exactly, they just...they couldn’t detect the Quirk with any of the methods they used, so...it went unnoticed.”

Inko blinked at him. “But, your Quirk developed later, didn’t it?” she asked, confused. “The one you have right now, that developed out of an abnormality…”

“Y-Yeah, there’s that, too,” Izuku said, running a hand through his dishevelled hair, “b-but...t-this one’s different. I...I was born with one Quirk, and the second one developed recently. Does...d-does that make sense?”

Inko took a moment or two to take this in, and then, when she realized the extent of her son’s words, she beamed. “But, Izuku, that’s wonderful!” she said, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him, tightly and briefly. “So, you mean you weren’t Quirkless all of those years? That’s wonderful!” (She’d said it once already, but she didn’t know what else to say.) “What type of Quirk is it? Do you know?”

Izuku looked no less nervous, and he bit his lip, averting his eyes and instead staring at the ground. “Y-Yeah, I...I know what it does,” he said quietly. “I-It’s...it’s this Quirk c-called ‘Second Chance,’ that...that ‘revives’ me once if I die.”

And suddenly, at that very moment, something in Inko’s heart clenched, and her eyes widened. In a moment of horror, she realized why Izuku was so nervous about all this, why he stammered over his words.

“...Izuku,” she said, her voice firm, “...why are you telling me this now?”

But she already had a pretty good idea. She just hoped she wasn’t actually right.

Izuku swallowed thickly, then nodded shakily. “M-Mom...up on the mountain, d-during training...w-when...when we were attacked by the villain, I…”

Inko’s heart skipped a beat.

“...I died, Mom,” Izuku whispered. “I-I...I actually died.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes burned with tears. “Oh, Izuku…!” And she had her arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him into a tight embrace, tighter than any embrace she’d ever given him before, and he hugged her back, almost equally tightly. Her tears spilled over, and she buried her face against his hair, something in her heart clenching and snapping.

He’d died. He’d actually died. That horrible day...Inko had received a phone call then, telling her that her son was in the hospital, unconscious but alive. But, if he didn’t have this Quirk, if he hadn’t been born with it…

...He’d be dead. Dead. Dead. Her precious little boy, her light and life and joy, dead.

“I...I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” Izuku said quietly, his voice strained. “I just...I-I didn’t want to bring it up...r-right after it happened. It...it didn’t feel like the right time…”

Inko said nothing, just squeezed him tighter and nodded, pressing a kiss into his hair. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. She couldn’t believe it. That wasn’t to say she thought Izuku was lying; she knew he wouldn’t lie about something like this; it was more of her simply not wanting to believe it.

After all…

...Her precious baby boy had died.

He was here, and he was okay now, thank goodness, but...but for a time, if even just for a short, small time...he’d been gone. He hadn’t been okay.

And she didn’t want to imagine what it’d been like, what he’d been through. It made her feel physically sick to think about it. Dying... dying…

“I-Izuku...a-are...a-are you sure you’re okay?” she asked him at long length, after what felt like an eternity. Her sobs broke her voice. “A-Are you...y-you... Izuku…”

Izuku buried her face against her shoulder, then gave a shaky nod. “...I-I’m okay now,” he said quietly. His voice was muffled, but she heard him well enough. “I-I’m okay, I...I promise…”

“A-Are you sure?” she asked again. “B-Because...because if you’re not…”

“I am,” Izuku nodded again, his voice firmer than before. “I promise, I’m fine.”

Inko closed her eyes, her arms tightening around him. She didn’t want to imagine what he’d been through, the fear and pain he must’ve felt, and for now, she didn’t. She settled for holding her definitely not-dead son tightly, her tears never once easing.

Because, at this very moment…

...She was just relieved her boy was alive.

And right now...Izuku’s being alive was enough.

Inko had a really hard time functioning the next couple of days. She zoned out while cooking one night (Izuku had made it to the fire extinguisher in time, thankfully), and even basic household chores were suddenly exhausting.

And there was a problem, something she hadn’t thought about until three days after her and Izuku’s talk.

She didn’t trust U.A.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the teachers. They were all fine heroes and fine people, and she knew this, but...U.A. was the target of so many villains, and not just the school as a whole, but the students specifically. If you had any affiliation with U.A. whatsoever, it made you a target to a whole bunch of villains, and Inko just...couldn’t imagine sending Izuku back there.

He’d already died once, and if she lost him again...for real this time…

She didn’t think she’d be able to take it. She literally, literally didn’t think her heart would be able to take it.

She was torn, though. Ever since he was old enough to understand how the education system worked, getting accepted into U.A. had been Izuku’s goal. And now he’d made it. And she didn’t want to take that away from him.

But…

...He’d literally died…

That was the truth of it. She tried talking herself out of it, tried to be considerate of Izuku’s feelings, of what he would want, because he obviously had no intention of quitting U.A. any time soon, but in the end...the fact that Izuku had died still remained.

Any argument against that was invalid.

Izuku had died.

The worst-case scenario actually happened. The literal worst thing that could become of Izuku’s attending U.A. had actually happened.

And they were fortunate enough for Izuku’s Quirk, or he’d be gone.  

I need to tell the school, was Inko’s conclusion. She didn’t think she was quite ready to face Izuku regarding this just yet, because she didn’t know how he would take it, but...she had to tell the school. She couldn’t allow this. She wasn’t going to lose her son. There were other schools, other academies Inko was sure were every bit as good as U.A. He could go to one of those instead…

A little later on that evening, after Izuku had gone to finish up some homework in his room, she picked up the phone and began dialing U.A.’s number.

And then, before she got far, there was a knock on the front door.

She stopped, looking up from the phone towards the sound. “Who could be knocking at this hour…?” Inko pondered out loud to herself, setting down the phone and crossing the room. She settled her hand on the knob, turned it, and swung the door open.

Standing outside was a group -- a small group, made up of maybe four or five people -- of teenagers.

Inko blinked at them in confusion, and they blinked back, almost in perfect unison. They all seemed vaguely familiar, like she’d seen them before, but she couldn’t remember ever meeting them…

“Heya!” a boy with bright, neon-red hair said cheerily (if not a bit awkwardly), raising one hand. “You’re Ms. Midoriya, right? Ermm, you don’t know us, but we’re friends with your son!”

“Kirishima!” snapped a second one, this one with jet-black hair and rectangular glasses. “You’re being impolite!” And then, bowing lowly to Inko, he went on: “I’m sorry for the intrusion. This is all rather sudden…”

Inko blinked at them again. “I-I’m sorry,” she said after a moment or two -- all eyes were on her in an instant. “W-Who are you…?”

“We’re Deku’s friends!” a girl with short brown hair and wide, bright eyes cut in. “We’re his classmates at U.A. I’m Ochako Uraraka, that’s Iida, the quiet one is Todoroki, and the one talking earlier is Kirishima.”

“Sorry,” the red-haired boy said shakily, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I-I’m not super good with formalities…”

“You guys?” came Izuku’s voice from behind her, and Inko looked over her shoulder; Izuku didn’t meet her gaze, only stared, confused, at the group of students outside the door. “What are you all doing here…?”

“Hey, Midoriya!” Kirishima greeted, raising his hand again. “What’s up?”

Inko looked to them briefly, and then back to Izuku. “Your classmates?” she asked, and he nodded in confirmation.

“I’m sorry for coming here unannounced and uninvited,” said the one with glasses, bowing again -- his name was Iida, Inko now knew. “But, Midoriya wasn’t answering his phone, and we didn’t know how else to reach you…”

“We’re really just here to check up on you is all,” Ochako said, shifting her weight nervously. “We’ve...been worried.”

And there was tension, and in an instant, Inko knew why. His friends must’ve known the truth about what happened that day on the mountain. That would explain a few things…

“Why not come in?” Inko offered immediately, stepping out of the doorway and gesturing inside. “Our place isn’t very big, but you’re welcome to stay a while, if you like…”

“Oh, really? Thank a bunch!” Kirishima, after a moment or two, bowed, and when he straightened up again, he was beaming. “And it’s nice to meet you, Ms. Midoriya!”

This was all very sudden, and Inko didn’t really know what to make of it, but she smiled anyway. “And it’s nice to meet all of you,” she said.

“We tried bringing everyone, but they couldn’t all make it,” Kirishima told Izuku once they were in the living room; only four of Izuku’s classmates had visited, namely Kirishima, Iida, Ochako, and Todoroki. They were in the living room, sitting in a circle on the floor. Inko had gone into the kitchen with a promise to return with cookies.

“I tried dragging them all here, and they really wanted to come,” said Kirishima, running a hand through his hair, “but, most of ‘em had a ton of schoolwork they were behind on, and the ones who didn’t have schoolwork were helping the ones who did. They said they’d visit some other time, though. Sorry.”

“I-It’s okay,” Izuku said, offering an uncertain smile. He hadn’t been expecting this whatsoever, but it was a pleasant surprise. “I’m glad you guys came.”

“And I really am sorry for the intrusion,” Iida kept saying -- he said it a lot, in fact, so much so to the point where the others were beginning to be annoyed by it. “When you didn’t answer your phone, we should have just left it at that and visited some other time.”

“It’s okay,” Izuku said again. “Like I said, I’m glad to see you guys.”

“Well, I technically also have a lot of schoolwork to do,” Kirishima admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, “but, well....YOLO. Well, unless you’re Midoriya, in which case, YOLT, as in you only live twice--” He stopped suddenly mid-sentence. “Ah crap, Midoriya! Sorry! I-I shouldn’t make jokes like that--!”

“No, it’s okay,” Izuku said, cutting Kirishima off mid-rant. “I-I mean...I know it was horrible, but...it’s over now, so I’d rather make jokes about it than act like...like it’s something to still be upset over.”

Kirishima didn’t look completely convinced. “A-Are you sure?”

Izuku nodded, and then, after another moment or two of thought, “YOLT,” he said.

Kirishima blinked, and then, with a smile, “YOLT.”

There was a beat or so of silence (Izuku couldn’t decide whether or not there was tension) before Ochako spoke.

“How’ve you been?” Ochako asked.

“I’ve been...doing okay,” Izuku said after a moment of thought. “N-Not super well, but, I mean... better.”

“...If you ever need any help, you know you can tell us, right?” Todoroki asked, and it was more of a statement than an actual question.

Ochako nodded feverishly. “We’re always here for you, Deku.”

“Heck yeah we are!!” Kirishima roared, leaping to his feet and punching his fist into the air. “If something happens, don’t be afraid to call on your bro, ‘kay, dude? We’ve got your back!”

“That’s...thanks,” Izuku breathed, unsure of how to respond to that. “And...you guys, you...you don’t have to be all...overprotective, you know? I told you I’m fine…”

The room suddenly fell silent, and Kirishima sank to the ground again, his cheerfulness gone.  

“...I believe we’re all aware of that, Midoriya,” Iida spoke after a beat of heavy silence, “and, I’m sure over time we’ll take that to heart, but, for now…”

“Just let us be overprotective, alright?” Kirishima said, reaching over and punching Izuku on the shoulder. “We don’t want to lose you again.”

Izuku swallowed thickly, then nodded. “...Okay.”

“But, anyways, enough of this depressing stuff!” Kirishima went right back to his loud, cheerful self, and he leapt to his feet again, this time grabbing his backpack off the couch and digging through it. “I’ve got some movies we can stream!”

And in an instant, they went from talking about Izuku’s death to debating on whether to watch Star Wars or Wall-E.

“Star Wars or Wall-E, Midoriya?” Kirishima asked.

“Errm...Star Wars.”

Iida stared at him. “You betray me.”

“S-Sorry!” Izuku waved his hands. “I-It’s a r-really tough choice…!”

“I like Wall-E,” said Ochako, raising her hand into the air.

“Well, Todoroki, what do you say?” Kirishima asked. “It’s up to you, Wall-E or Star Wars.”

Todoroki looked down for a long, long time, thinking.

And then,

“Wall-E.”

“TRAITOR!” Kirishima screeched, pointing dramatically at Todoroki. Todoroki shrugged, and Kirishima whirled around to face Izuku. “MIDORIYA! YOU CAN’T TELL ME YOU’RE OKAY WITH THIS!!”

“I-I like both movies, s-so I’m fine with either…” Izuku said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Kirishima put a hand against his chest. “Betrayed by my own friends...how could this happen?”

“I-It’s okay!” Ochako said. “We can watch Star Wars later!”

And after much more complaining on Kirishima’s part and reassurance on Ochako’s, Kirishima set up his laptop, and they all crowded around to watch.

And although Izuku’s friends were insane at times, he wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Inko listened from the kitchen, feeling torn between laughing and crying. Up until now, she’d only heard stories about her son’s classmates, and she’d seen them at the Sports Festival as well (that was where she’d vaguely recognized them from, she realized), but she was meeting them for the first time, and…

...And so far, they were all very considerate, nice, wonderful people, and even more wonderful friends. The fact that they’d come here just to make sure her son was okay was just... overwhelming to her.

Up until recently, Izuku just...didn’t have any friends. There was that Katsuki boy, but Inko didn’t trust him, and he didn’t really fit Inko’s definition of a “friend.” And not only that, but Izuku had just seemed... depressed. Even if he was good at hiding it while out in public, Inko knew him well enough.

But ever since he joined U.A., all of that... changed. He smiled a lot more, and not only that, but he had friends. True, honest, wonderful friends, who cared about him and looked after him.

Every now and then, she would stand by the doorway leading into the living room, listening in. They’d put on a movie, but they were all giving more commentary than actually watching.

“They’re so cute together…”

“I ship it.”

“WaitwaitWAIT I can make a pun out of that, hang on---”

“What, because they’re on a spaceship?”

“Kirishima, shh! I like this part!”

“What’s...oh, it’s the little cleany-dude! I love this guy! Hey buddy!”

“For some reason, he reminds me of Iida…”

“What!? How so!?”

“Ooh, now that you mention it, I kinda see what you mean…”

“I don’t see it! Why are you comparing me to a robot!?”

“Shhh! Keep it down! We’re trying to watch a movie!”

“Kirishima I swear…”

It was fun to listen to, and it made Inko smile, because Izuku was happy. There weren’t many times she could look back to in the past and think of when he’d been genuinely happy like he was now.

It was…

...It was a nice change. A welcomed change.

“Izuku,” Inko asked, stepping into the living room after their movies were over, “would you mind making sure I locked the back door? I can never remember whether or not I did.”

“Sure!” Izuku said, nodding, already getting to his feet. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he told his friends, and then, he turned and started down the hall, disappearing a moment later.

Inko bit her lip, fiddling slightly with the hem of her shirt. “...You four are Kirishima, Iida, Todoroki, and Uraraka, correct?” she asked after a moment or two of silence.

“Yes!” Iida got to his feet and bowed; behind him, the others followed in suit. “Thank you for having us!”

“No, I’m glad to have you over,” Inko said. “It’s wonderful to finally meet my son’s friends. If anything, I...I should be the one thanking you. But...I have to ask…”

She paused, turning her gaze towards the floor, not quite sure how to word what she said next.

“Is Izuku...is he... happy, at U.A.?” she asked. “I-I mean, not just that, but...how is he, in general?”

They exchanged glances, then looked back at her.

“Deku’s...he’s usually really upbeat and optimistic about just about everything,” Ochako said. “He hasn’t said it specifically, but...I know he likes U.A.”

“...I may be overstepping my bounds by saying this,” Todoroki said suddenly, “but...this isn’t really about that, is it?”

Inko bit her lip again. “...No, it’s not,” she admitted. “I just...my son, he’s...he’s all I have. He’s the most precious thing in the world to me, and...and after what happened…”

The four youths stiffened immediately, and after a moment or two, Inko went on.

“...I’m considering...pulling him out of U.A.,” Inko stated. “It’s...it’s something I’ve...actually been considering for quite some time now.”

She’d expected shock from her son’s friends, but instead, all she saw was silent understanding in their faces, like they’d been expecting this.

“...I understand your reasoning behind that,” Iida said quietly. “And...I believe it’s just the natural thing for someone in your position to do. If I’m completely honest...I wouldn’t blame you.”

Inko only nodded, fiddling with her shirt again. For a long, long time, neither party said anything.

And then,

“We’ll protect him,” Kirishima stated firmly, and instantly, all eyes were on him. “Midoriya’s my buddy,” Kirishima told them, “and I’m not gonna let anything happen to him again.”

“I agree,” Todoroki said, nodding. “I owe a lot to Midoriya, and, he’s my friend as well. If you choose to let him continue attending U.A., Ms. Midoriya...we’ll protect him.”

“Deku’s my friend...no, my best friend,” Ochako added. “And...and I’m never going to let him get hurt like that again.”

“And I promise to look after him as well,” Iida said. “Midoriya trusted me enough to elect me Class Representative, and as such, and as his friend...it’s my duty to make sure he stays safe.”

Inko looked at each of them in turn, feeling more torn than ever before in her life. Her son had died, died, literally died, but he had friends at U.A., friends who loved and cared for him, friends who swore to protect him, friends in general.

Inko swallowed thickly.

“...You’ll take care of him,” she said. “You’ll...you’ll look after him, you’ll...you’ll try to keep him from doing anything reckless, to the best of your abilities...you’ll...you’ll take care of him.”

And in unison, Kirishima, Iida, Ochako, and Todoroki nodded firmly, without any hesitation whatsoever.

“...Alright,” Inko said, and the word was hard to get out. “I trust you.”

“Thank you,” Ochako said, smiling fragile.

“We won’t let you down,” Kirishima promised.

And Inko smiled. “I know you won’t,” she said.

And while she knew she would worry, and she knew Izuku would always be in danger, so long as he was on the path to becoming a hero…

...She knew his friends would look after him. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

And that was enough.

“Aizawa-sensei? Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah,” was Aizawa’s curt response, his voice as deadpan as ever. The rest of the students of Class 1-A filed out after morning homeroom; Izuku told Ochako and Iida to go on without him, that he would meet up with them later, and they, too, headed off.

“Whatever this is, make it quick,” Aizawa told him, stacking a few papers idly on his desk. “You have other classes.”

“Y-Yes,” Izuku said, fiddling with the hem of his uniform for a moment or two. “E-Erm, s-see, the thing is…”

Aizawa looked at him, his face devoid of emotion. “Just spit it out, Midoriya,” he said, not rudely, but not particularly patiently, either. “Stalling isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

Izuku swallowed thickly. It’d taken a lot of mental wrestling with himself before he finally caved and decided to tell Aizawa the truth of what happened on that day (as his classmates had gotten used to calling it).

But it was still harder to tell Aizawa than it’d been to tell the others. The thing about telling the others was, he knew them, and they were his close friends, more like family.

And while he respected Aizawa, and he knew Aizawa cared for him and his classmates…

...It was harder.

“...On the mountain,” Izuku said, “d-during Survival Training…”

(Aizawa stopped fiddling with the papers.)

“...I-I wasn’t a-actually saved in time,” Izuku stammered. “I-I...I-I actually...I died.”

Aizawa stared at him for a moment or two. “...What are you talking about, Midoriya?” he questioned.   

And (albeit hastily, and he tripped over his words more than once), Izuku told him exactly what he’d told All Might, his classmates, and his mother. Aizawa listened silently, maintaining his same, flat, emotionless face.

“...S-S-So...t-that happened,” Izuku finished, his shoulders stiff. “I-It’s pretty crazy, I-I know, so...so I’d understand if...if you didn’t believe me--”

“You’re a lot of things, Midoriya,” Aizawa interrupted, “but a liar certainly isn’t one of them. And even then, I doubt even the most dedicated prankster would joke around about something like this.”

“S-So...so you believe me?”

Aizawa nodded briefly. “...But, Midoriya...this means you actually... died, correct?”

Izuku nodded. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Died.”

“Yes.”

Aizawa stared at him. “...Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” Izuku said (he said that a lot, it seemed -- whenever this subject came up, in fact). “I-I told Recovery Girl, and...and she said I was fine--”

“I don’t mean physically. I mean mentally. Emotionally. That kind of thing.”

“Oh…”

Izuku bit his lip.

“I-I am now,” he decided. “A-At first, I think I was in shock over the whole thing, so...it didn’t really sink in until just recently, when I told my classmates about it…”

“You told your classmates?” Aizawa asked, and Izuku nodded. “That explains their paranoia, at least,” Aizawa sighed. “I was beginning to think something was seriously wrong with them, but now I understand.”

“Y-Yeah, they’re...they’re freaked out about it,” Izuku said, shifting his gaze towards his shoes. “They’ve been really protective lately…”

“Understandable.” Aizawa nodded shortly. “...Thank you for telling me, Midoriya. I know this must have been hard on you.”

Izuku’s head snapped up, and he stared at his teacher with wide, disbelieving eyes. This was the first time he’d heard such genuine sincerity in Aizawa’s tone.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Aizawa droned. “No matter how annoying you brats can be, you’re still my students. I care about each of you a great deal.”

Izuku already knew this, but actually hearing it from Aizawa himself was different, more reassuring.

“And, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” Aizawa went on, and Izuku tore himself out of his thoughts to listen. “You were put under my watch and responsibility, and...well, you died, so obviously I failed.”

“N-No, you don’t have to apologize,” Izuku blurted, “it’s okay. I...I don’t really want anyone else to apologize. I’d...I-I’d rather just...m-move on a-and forget this ever happened.”

“That’d be great, Midoriya,” Aizawa deadpanned, “but a person’s feelings and emotions aren’t something they can just forget, now are they?”

Izuku bit his lip, then shook his head.

“So allow me to apologize,” Aizawa said. “Whether you take it or leave it is your choice.”

“O-Okay…” Izuku murmured. “T-Thank you.”

“And from here on out, I promise to watch over you more closely,” Aizawa continued. “And no more Survival Training. I thought the whole thing was stupid from the beginning…”

“Y-Yeah,” Izuku said quietly. “I-I guess…”

Aizawa nodded, taking up a pen from the desk and scribbling something down on a small slip of paper. “Here, take this,” Aizawa said, passing the paper to Izuku. “It’s a note for Recovery Girl. I want you to have her look at you again and make sure you’re alright.”

Izuku blinked at the paper, then up at his teacher. “B-But she already did--”

“Don’t argue with me on this one, Midoriya.”

“I-I said I’m f-fine--”

“You literally died, I’m allowed to double-check.”

Izuku opened his mouth again, decided against it, then sighed. “Y-Yes sir,” he relented with a small nod of his head.

“Good,” Aizawa said, reaching over and patting him on the shoulder. “Go have the old lady look you over, and then, I want you to go home for the day.”

Izuku’s head snapped up again. “Wait, why?”

“Because you don’t look like you’ve been sleeping right.”

Izuku stopped, clenching his teeth behind his lips. He couldn’t exactly argue with that; ever since that day, he’d been having frequent nightmares, bouts of insomnia, and times when he was just too overwhelmed with the gravity of the situation to even consider sleeping.

“After you see the nurse, go home,” Aizawa told him. “Get some rest. I’ll give you a week’s extension on the upcoming exam.”

Izuku swallowed thickly. “I-I think I’m fine…”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you do. Now go.”

Izuku nodded, bowed briefly, then turned and headed off.

To say Aizawa was shocked would have been the greatest understatement in the world.

The moment Midoriya closed the door behind him, Aizawa let out a long sigh, shutting his eyes briefly as his thoughts raced.

Midoriya had died.

His student, someone who had been put under his care, had actually died.

This...wasn’t something Aizawa knew he would be able to get over any time soon. Honestly, he was a bit too shocked by this entire situation for it to even sink in.

Aizawa took up the papers, stashed them away, then turned and left the classroom. He could deal with his own conflicting thoughts later. Right now, he had to find out what the rest of Class 1-A was up to regarding this situation.  

“Izuku Midoriya Protection Squad.”

That was the title Class 1-A (minus Midoriya) dubbed themselves. It was supposed to be a secret, Aizawa realized, but a teacher had his ways, and before long, Aizawa knew that the class held their own “meetings” in the Student Lounge after school, after the rest of the students had long since gone home.

It was during this time that Aizawa found himself standing outside the closed door of the Student Lounge; the members of Class 1-A (minus Midoriya of course) were inside. While this whole thing was supposed to be a “secret” shared only by the students of Class 1-A Minus One, they weren’t exactly subtle whatsoever, and Aizawa could hear their voices through the door.

“Aizawa sent Midoriya home early today,” came Mina’s voice. “Does anyone know why?”

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” answered Sero in a knowing tone. “I mean, did you see the dark rings beneath his eyes? He didn’t look like he’d slept in a week.”

“Wait, are we talking about Aizawa or Midoriya?”

“We’re talking about Midoriya, Mineta.”

“But, I mean, it makes sense when you think about it,” said Kaminari with a long sigh. “I mean, Midoriya did say he died, didn’t he? I don’t know much about dying, but, I mean...could you imagine what’s going through his head right now? What he’s feeling?”

“And Deku told his mom, too,” came Ochako’s quiet, concerned voice. “That...that was probably pretty hard for him to do.”

“So what do we do from here?” Kirishima asked. “What about you, Bakugō? What do you think?

“That you’re all frickin’ idiots.”

“I mean, what do you think about Midoriya?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Maybe we should back off a bit for now,” said Iida with a very Big-Brother tone of voice. “Now that the truth is out in the open, I believe we should give Midoriya some space. He’s not hiding anything from us anymore, after all.”

“I think Iida’s right,” said Yaoyorozu. “At this point, we’ll just give Midoriya some time. If we think he needs help, or if his health deteriorates any further, we’ll assert ourselves.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Sato.

“I’m sure Recovery Girl has noticed,” Tsuyu piped up. “It’s hard for things to slip by her. I’m sure she’s already handling the situation.”

“Even so, if Midoriya needs the extra help, we’ll gladly give it,” said Tokoyami firmly. “Are we all in agreement to Iida’s plan?”

There was a long chorus of “Yes”es and “Aye”s and “Definitely”s (plus an angry snort from Bakugō, though he didn’t disagree).

“So we’re all in agreement,” said Iida, clapping his hands together. “If that’s all we have to talk about, dismissed.”

Aizawa stepped away from the door and headed down the hallway once more; behind him, he heard the door open, followed by a chorus of footsteps and chattering voices as his students filed out of the Lounge.

Aizawa exhaled sharply through his nose, something reminiscent of a smile playing on his face.  

His students were insane, completely reckless, and they got into trouble more often than not…

...But all in all, they were good kids. Good friends. No, great friends.

And, although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Aizawa was proud of them.

(And he was in mutual agreement with them when it came to the “Izuku Midoriya Protection Squad” -- but that was also something he wouldn’t admit out loud).

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Izuku saw the other reality.

It didn’t happen very often, and the times it did happen were far and few between, but it happened. Sometimes he’d be in class, and the scene would shift suddenly. He’d see his classmates looking much less like themselves, with saddened, hard eyes. And then he’d shift back into this reality as though nothing had happened at all.

It was a side-effect of his stupid Quirk—the one he’d been born with. Sometimes he thought maybe his Quirk-self, the Not-Him he’d met in that dreamscape, was just toying with him relentlessly. Not letting him rest even after literally dying.

But that was just him theorizing. He hoped Not-Him died with the single usage of Second Chance.

“Hey, Midoriya?”

Izuku turned. Aizawa had just called an end to morning homeroom, and while the rest of the students filed out, Jirou approached him.

“You got a sec to talk?” she asked.

“Oh, s-sure, Jirou,” Izuku answered with a nod, shouldering his backpack and turning to face her fully. Everyone else filed out moments later, leaving the two of them behind. Silence engulfed the classroom, and after a little while, Izuku breaks it and asks, “What do you want to talk about?”

Jiro paused momentarily, biting her lip. “Listen, Midoriya, I…” She stopped, took in a deep breath. “...On the mountain,” she went on slowly, “y’know, that day, you...you saved me. You literally…” She took another breath. “You literally died for me.”

Izuku swallowed thickly and raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. He should have expected this, but even so. “I-I guess,” he said nervously, picking his words with care. “But I came back, s-so…”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jirou interrupted sharply. “You didn’t know you were coming back. You were fully prepared to...to die for me, and...and I know you would’ve done it for anyone, for any of us, because...because that’s just the kind of person you are. And...And I wanted to thank you. You died for me, Midoriya, and...I don’t think I could ever thank you enough.”

Izuku wanted to tell her not to thank him, that he’d do it again in a heartbeat, that it was alright and everything turned out okay in the end…

But then, Jirou’s image flickered, and he was in the other reality. She was still standing before him, but instead of looking reserved and a bit embarrassed, she looked broken.

It ended in a flash, but it left a lasting impression on him. He nodded shortly, forcing back tears.

“You’re welcome,” he said at length. “I’m glad everything turned out okay in the end.”

“Just—” Jirou reached out as though to grab him, but stopped short and withdrew her hand. Her fingers curled into a fist. “Just, don’t do it again. Don’t—don’t go dying on us for real.”

All he could do was nod. “I won’t,” he said, and he meant it. After seeing the other reality, after still seeing what the world was like without him, he really, truly meant it. “I won’t, I promise.”

Jirou didn’t seem convinced, and he couldn’t blame her. They left the classroom to rejoin the rest of 1-A.

The second Izuku arrived back at the dormitory after that school day, he tossed his backpack onto his desk and flopped facedown on his bed without bothering with the lights. He didn’t know why, but today had been particularly draining and left him with the growing need to sleep.

Bakugou would probably be making dinner soon. Everyone would be downstairs goofing off or exchanging study notes. Meanwhile, he’d be up here, fast asleep. As much as he wanted to be down there with them, the majority of him just wanted to shut his eyes and not open them until he was well rested.

So that was what he did. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and fell asleep without much difficulty at all.

Staying asleep, however, was a different story.

He’d seen plenty glimpses of the other reality in flashes during the day, and that was already too much. Parts of him had considered telling All Might, or Recovery Girl, or Aizawa, or someone, but in the end he’d stayed quiet. It wasn’t something he couldn’t suffer through in silence.

Except, now, he was seeing glimpses of the reality again. But this time, in his dreams.

He saw his classmates in the common room as though he were standing and watching from the hallway. The air was solemn, despite that months had passed since the accident, and they all looked like they wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Kaminari and Kirishima were trying to play cards, but there were long spaces in between their turns where they gazed out into space. Uraraka and Tsuyu were sitting on the couch with Ashido and Yaoyorozu, sipping mugs of what looked like hot cocoa, but none of them seemed happy with it.

“Dinner should be ready soon,” Iida said, returning from the kitchen with Bakugou, who kept his head down. “Everyone, if you would come help gather plates for yourselves, we’ll be serving curry soon.”

He turned and left once more, and slowly, Izuku began to feel something crawling in his stomach.

“Does anyone know where Todoroki is?” Sero asked, sitting a bit straighter on the couch. “And, now that I think about it, Jirou isn’t here, either.”

“They went to visit him,” Uraraka answered quietly.

She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to.

It was weird, seeing them all like this even when so much time had passed. But, Izuku supposed, in the glimpses he’d seen for the past few weeks (months now, actually), some days were better than others. Sometimes his classmates got around well. Sometimes they were alright. Other times, they were not. Other times, they struggled. In some glimpses, they were enjoying themselves and playing games; in other glimpses, they were sitting around aimlessly, doing absolutely nothing at all.

Like they were here. Quiet, reserved, not doing much. Like the silence was a precious thing that shouldn’t be disturbed.

Izuku, in his dream, attempted to move forward, but his legs were glued in place. When he tried speaking or reaching out, he could move his arm, but no words left his mouth. Not ones his classmates could hear.

So it’s just like before—

“Did you think it was over?”

Izuku spun around. Not-Him stared across from him in the hallway. His grin wasn’t as bright as it was when they first met, but the smirk he wore now—subtle, simple—was almost more malicious.

Izuku bit his lip. Not-Him smiled brighter.

“Your Quirk is still a part of you, stupid,” he said, eyes twinkling in the shadows. “Even if you can’t use it again, even if its usage has already been expended, it’s still there. You still get to see it. The world without you.”

Izuku wanted to cry. He was just getting over actually dying, and now—

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” he asked, and his voice cracked, although he’d tried to be demanding. “Why do you keep doing this?”

Not-Him hung his head and shook it. “Listen, man, I’m not causing any of this,” he said, leaning against the wall idly, like they were discussing what to get for dinner. “I’m just the Quirk’s instruction manual. I’m here to explain stuff. I’m not causing any of this. You’ve got your actual Quirk to blame for that.”

Izuku swallowed hard. “...I don’t want to see it anymore.”

“Well.” Not-Him grinned fully this time, teeth glimmering in the darkness. “You don’t get to make that choice, either.”

And then he woke up, breathing hard, fists clenching handfuls of his bedsheets. He shot upright, settling a hand against his head when it pounded. His heart raced. His breath came in quick, short gasps.

The sensation was familiar, somehow. Panic, fear, racing heart, being unable to breathe. He felt like he was

Drowning.

He didn’t sleep again that night.

Or the next night.

Or the night after that.

Kirishima sat in front of the group of students. Sans Midoriya, everyone in Class 1-A was present, sitting in a circle on the floor of the Student Lounge.

“So.” Kirishima clapped his hands together. “The official weekly meeting of the Midoriya Protection Squad is now in session. Discussions start now.”

“He doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping,” Uraraka spoke at once, without raising her hand or otherwise asking to speak. “I mean, I know he’s still dealing with everything, and sometimes he has a hard time with it either way, but...it’s been really bad lately.”

Jirou nodded her agreement. “When I talked to him a few days ago,” she said, “he seemed kind of out of it. It was subtle, but I still noticed it either way.”

“It’s kind of odd, though,” said Tokoyami, cradling his chin thoughtfully. He was perched in the only dark corner in the room, figure shrouded by shadow. “He’s been going to bed early lately, hasn’t he? Or, at least, he hasn’t been participating in group activities after school.”

“Hold on a second.” Satou lifted his head, eyes widened slightly. “When was the last time any of you actually saw him eating dinner?”

Silence.

“Oh, crap!” Ashido wailed, digging her hands into her hair (mindful of her horns). “When was the last time he ate dinner with us!?”

“He eats lunch,” Todoroki spoke up before the turmoil could escalate. “And he eats breakfast. He just goes to bed before dinner is actually prepared.”

“That’s kind of worrisome,” Iida murmured, “especially when you add in the fact that he doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping…”

Kaminari rocked himself back and forth for a moment, teeth sank into his bottom lip. “Should we ask him? I mean, considering it’s—y’know, him, I doubt he’d actually tell us if something was wrong, but...it’s worth trying, right?”

“I suppose it’s better than nothing,” Yaoyorozu agreed, rising to her feet. “We’ll ask him directly. If it doesn’t work, we’ll start taking more of the initiative.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to rush him all at once and demand he tell us what’s wrong, though,” Kirishima mentioned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe only one of us should talk to him. Someone who won’t make him feel weirded out or pressured.”

“I can talk to him,” Todoroki volunteered easily. “I don’t know how much he’ll tell me, but I can try.”

“Perfect!” Kirishima got to his feet, and the others mirrored the movement shortly thereafter. Once they were all standing, Kirishima thrust his hand forward. The others settle their hands atop his and atop their classmates’ until they form one awkward stack of nineteen. “Battle plans decided. This meeting is finished!”

They released each other’s hands with a quiet whoop (quiet as to not lead the teachers on), and went about the rest of their day.

It was getting worse.

Sometimes, Izuku found himself sitting through entire classes in the other reality. The atmosphere was so wrong, so messed up and twisted, and the fact that he was always sitting in the same desk chair suggested that, in this other reality, it was still empty. He hadn’t been replaced. Sometimes he wondered why; sometimes he felt he already knew.

Not-Him didn’t make any appearances other than in his dreams, when reality was distorted anyway. When Izuku did sleep—intentionally or accidentally, though mostly the latter—Not-Him always had something to say. There was always a part of the alternate reality to see. There was always something there that Izuku wished he didn’t have to live through.

He became afraid to close his eyes.

He could tell people were suspicious—not just his classmates, but his teachers, too. All Might in particular asked him if everything was okay, to which Izuku lied and said yes. His grades were declining. Present Mic pulled him aside one day, said that it didn’t make sense since Izuku had always been good at English, and Izuku lied again and said that he was just struggling lately with the new material. Present Mic had bought it; Izuku still didn’t know about All Might but he’d deal with that later. For now, he thought he was doing pretty okay at pretending.

And then he fell asleep in class.

He didn’t realize what’d happened until Aizawa shook his shoulder and his head snapped off the desk. His classmates— all of them—were staring at him, worried. Concerned. Aizawa stood by his desk, but he didn’t look fed up. Izuku didn’t know how to describe the look on his face.

Izuku realized it all at once. He’d fallen asleep during morning homeroom. He’d been doing an okay job of hiding his sleeplessness from his classmates, saying he was always tired by the end of the day, but now he couldn’t lie about it. He’d fallen asleep during morning homeroom. Morning homeroom. At the start of the day.

“Midoriya.”

Izuku’s head snapped up, and his eyes met Aizawa’s.

“Go stand in the hall,” Aizawa said curtly. “Wait for me. Todoroki, you too.”

Mortified, Izuku rose to his feet. A couple desks across from him, he heard Todoroki’s chair scrape the ground as he, too, did the same. Izuku didn’t look at Aizawa, Todoroki, or anyone as he made his way to the front of the room and finally out the sliding door. Todoroki followed behind with Aizawa, and Aizawa pulled the door shut behind the three of them.

Izuku didn’t look at either of them. He was almost too exhausted to feel embarrassed, but either way, Aizawa was the strictest of their teachers. He didn’t know what to expect.

Aizawa wrote something on a notepad, tore out the page, and handed it to him. “Go to Recovery Girl,” Aizawa told him with a voice that left no room for argument. “Make sure he gets there, Todoroki. I’ll talk to the principal about giving you leave of absence for the next couple of days, Midoriya.”

Izuku finally raised his head, eyes widening. “W-What? No, I can’t—”

“If you can’t stay awake,” Aizawa interrupted sharply, “then there’s no reason for you to be here at all. Go to Recovery Girl, and then go back to Heights Alliance. Todoroki, come back to class once he’s there.”

“Yessir,” Todoroki answered, nodding firmly. “Midoriya. Don’t argue. Come on.”

Even if he wanted to—and he did—Izuku knew it was futile. All he’d do was make Aizawa irritated. He nodded, spun on his heel, and left with Todoroki. He heard Class 1-A’s door open and shut behind them, and when he glanced over his shoulder, Aizawa was no longer there.

He turned back to face the hall without offering Todoroki so much as a single glance. Todoroki didn’t, either. The silence was almost overwhelming, and not just that, but it was the most uncomfortable silence Izuku had ever suffered through.

Luckily (or unluckily—he wasn’t sure), Todoroki broke it.

“Midoriya. What’s going on?”

Izuku bit his lip. His fingernails dug into his palms. “Nothing.”

“I know you’re lying. We kind of all do at this point. So...please?”

Izuku let out a long, heaving sigh and hung his head. He didn’t want to say it, but a part of him knew Todoroki was right. There was no way anyone was buying his “I’m fine” act anymore; he wasn’t sure they’d ever actually bought it. He was torn between wishing he was more convincing and happy that he wasn’t.

“...I...I-I just—”

He glanced at Todoroki, which turned out to be a terrible idea.

Todoroki’s image flickered, became black and white, and in this opposite reality, in this what-if, Todoroki’s eyes were red, and tears made their way silently down his face.

Izuku stopped short, wide-eyed.

And then a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him unexpectedly. The edges of his vision went dark; his legs swayed beneath him while the floor swirled; he stumbled to the side, clutching his head and bracing his other hand against the wall.

“—Midoriya—!”

Todoroki caught him by the forearms and held him upright. Todoroki’s eyes were wild with panic instead of filled with tears like they’d been in the other reality, but Izuku didn’t have much time to fully register this before the black closed in all the way, and he spiraled downwards.

On the bright side, at least Not-Him didn’t haunt his unconsciousness.

When he woke up, he felt no more rested than when he passed out, and his head was still pounding relentlessly. He blinked up at the infirmary roof slowly, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light. He didn’t trust himself to sit up, not without feeling dizzy again, so he stayed put.

“Midoriya.”

He turned his head slowly. Todoroki was perched on a stool by the bedside, elbows resting on his thighs and fingers threaded together loosely, with his chin resting on them. Izuku blinked at him, long and slow.

“...What happened…?”

“Recovery Girl said you blacked out,” Todoroki answered shortly. “From sleep deprivation. And nutrient deprivation, too.”

Izuku blinked at him again, and the pieces began falling into place. “S-So...I...I actually passed out...?”

Todoroki’s face didn’t change. “Midoriya, how long has this been going on? When was the last time you actually slept?”

Izuku couldn’t answer. And maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t answer that was the most terrifying thing of it all. Todoroki leaned back when the silence stretched, lowering his hands and looking down at them.

“...Could you...maybe tell us what’s going on?” Todoroki asked, voice quiet. Almost hesitant. “I mean, if it’s something private or personal, we don’t expect you to, but we’ve been worried about you for a long time now. We really want to know what’s the matter. We can’t help you otherwise.”

Izuku swallowed hard, eyes burning with tears. He wanted to tell them, he really did. He wanted to tell them of Second Chance’s side effects, he wanted to tell them the truth about it all, but it’d...it’d been hard. Actually telling them that he’d died had been hard enough, but he doesn’t want to talk about what was going on now, after the fact, now that they’ve been moving on and healing and all that.

He didn’t want to drag them all back down into it when they’d just begun to resurface.  

“Midoriya.”

Izuku turned and met Todoroki’s eyes. Todoroki’s gaze held a combination of desperation, concern, and sorrow.

“Please, tell us. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Izuku swallowed again, but the lump in his throat remained. He didn’t want to think about it, much less talk about it, but…

“...Okay, I’ll tell you all,” Izuku said at length, swallowing again. “B-But I only want to say it once. With everyone.”

“Okay.” Todoroki nodded, then reached out, hesitated, and squeezed Izuku’s forearm. “You gonna be okay?”

Izuku pondered this before nodding shakily. “I’m sure I’ll be just fine. Eventually.”

Recovery Girl gave him medications to help him sleep and sent him off with strict orders to a) eat better and b) rest whenever he was able. She didn’t seem too upset with him; it was more of a “I’m frustrated because I’m worried” kind of thing, which was nice. He didn’t want to deal with her righteous fury atop of everything else.

Either way, by the time she was through making him rest and brought him a hearty meal from the cafeteria, it was late in the day and school was through. She sent him back to the dormitory with his bottle of medications just as the sun began to set and everyone returned to Heights Alliance.

When Izuku walked through the front door, the first thing he saw was his classmates as they would be from the alternate-reality; moping around, silent, not like themselves at all.

When the moment ended, Izuku was being approached by Iida, who looked concerned. The rest of his classmates were sitting on the couches, perched on chairs, and in some cases, on the floor; but the point was, everyone was there. Todoroki, too.

Iida stopped in front of him, glanced at the group over his shoulder, then turned back. “Todoroki more or less filled us in,” he said quietly, just loud enough for Izuku to hear. “He said you wanted to talk to us all. If you aren’t ready to do it now, then we’ll do it some other time. Just say the word.”

Izuku swallowed. There was no real reason to postpone this; either way, he’d have to deal with it eventually. Better sooner than later.

“...We can talk now,” Izuku agreed, nodding and wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. “Y-Yeah, let’s...let’s talk now.”

Iida nodded. “Alright. But first, Bakugou and I prepared soup for everyone. We’ll grab bowls and then sit down. Alright?”

Izuku didn’t know how much Todoroki told them, but he assumed it was enough to make them worry, which probably led to Iida’s making sure Izuku actually ate dinner.

Izuku nodded. “Alright.”

Shortly thereafter found the entire group seated once again, this time each with their own bowl of steaming chicken noodle soup. Izuku was sure it was fantastic, considering Iida and Bakugou prepared it, but still. He couldn’t actually taste it very well.

He himself was sitting on the couch in between Uraraka and Iida; Todoroki sat on Iida’s left, and Tokoyami perched on the arm of the couch precariously. Sero did the same on the opposite side of the couch, and Tsuyu was squeezed in between him and Uraraka. The rest of them took the opposite couch as well as the floor and a couple chairs they’d dragged over.

No one said anything, which Izuku took as them waiting for him to start first. He took in a breath, let it out, and settled his soup bowl on the coffee table for later. Maybe he’d be able to enjoy it once he got all this off his chest.

“Okay, so, I…” Izuku bit his lip, wringing his hands together. It came to his attention a second later that everyone else had ceased eating, too. “F-First of all, this has to do with that day. On the mountain.”

The group nodded collectively.

“We kind of already guessed that,” Tsuyu admitted, “but go on. We’re listening.”

“So, I…” He really didn’t know how to phrase this in a way that wouldn’t completely freak them out. “...I already told you that I died and my Quirk brought me back, right? ‘Second Chance.’”

He didn’t miss the emotions that flashed on their faces; guilt, pain, hurt, and everything in between. The answer was unspoken and unanimous, so Izuku went on;

“There’s...there’s a part of it that I didn’t actually mention. Another weird mechanic that I just didn’t feel like talking about. And, basically...my Quirk kind of created this...this…” He had no idea how to describe it. “This weird alternate reality where I did die. And while I was unconscious—in the few minutes on the mountain top—I got to see that alternate reality. I got to live in a world where you were in mourning and I was— gone.”

He heard a few sharp inhales. A couple gasps. Uraraka reached out with a small, hesitant “Deku…” but he shook his head and cut her off.

“That’s—t-that’s not all. I wish it was but it’s not.”

They were silent, so he went ahead and continued.

“Sometimes, I still see it. The other reality. It’s been happening more and more lately, and I can’t control when it starts or stops, it just— happens. And then it ends. But—I have to see all of you...upset. I have to watch you guys mourn and I have to watch you guys go through it while I’m powerless to help. And it’s been worse in my dreams. It’s been happening a lot, s-so I just—I thought maybe—maybe if I didn’t sleep, I could avoid the worst of it. But that doesn’t really work, either.”

Iida’s hand found his shoulder and squeezed, but he didn’t say anything. No one did. Izuku took in a shaky breath, then let it out in like manner.

“S-So, that’s it,” he finished. There was a bitter, unpleasant taste in his mouth that he couldn’t get rid of no matter what he tried. “That’s what’s wrong. That’s why I haven’t been sleeping.”

“Dang…” Kirishima’s eyes were wide, and he stared off into space. “You had to watch us—you have to watch us mourn, that’s—that’s messed up, dude.”

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that it really was.

“You should have said something sooner,” Yaoyorozu said, but her voice was small, and she didn’t sound angry. If anything, she sounded sad. “You should have told us. We would have been glad to help you through it. We would have been able to help sooner.”

Izuku took in another shuddering breath and let it go. “I-I know. I wasn’t...I wasn’t thinking about it. I wasn’t thinking about how you guys would feel. I just—I thought I could deal with it, but—I-I was wrong.”

Uraraka reached out, hesitated, then rested her hand over his in reassurance. “But we know now,” she said.

Her words seemed to break the trance, and suddenly everyone was in slightly higher spirits.

“She’s right!” Satou agreed, the first to leap to his feet. “We couldn’t help before, but we’re here to help now, Midoriya! Anything you need, just say the word and we’ll do our best!”

“Dark Shadow and I are mostly nocturnal,” Tokoyami told him while Ashido and Hagakure joined in with Satou’s whoops and cheers, “so if you needed someone to stay up with you ever and keep you company, you can hit us up any time.”

“The same goes for me as well,” Iida agreed, nodding and straightening his glasses with the hand not on Izuku’s shoulder. “I know it’s important to get a full night’s sleep, but it’s better to not be alone should something like that happen.”

“I’ll help with night shift!” Kaminari volunteered, too, and suddenly everyone was catching on and doing the same.

“I’m really good at hand puppets!”

“We could find some relaxing music to listen to, I have some good playlists.”

“We could even take turns if we had to!”

“Heck yeah!”

“Just text us whenever you need us, Midori-chan! We’re here for you!”

“Amen to that!”

“Here, here!”

Izuku watched them cheer and scheme, and for once, he didn’t see the alternate reality. All he saw were his friends, smiling, cheering, encouraging him and offering to be there for him, and he couldn’t help but smile, even as the tears finally broke free.

Uraraka hugged him tight as soon as she noticed, and Izuku tensed at first, not expecting it, but then he returned the embrace with equal ferocity. Another pair of arms wrapped around him and her as Iida joined in, and Izuku sighed and shut his eyes, content.

Except—

“Hey! I wanna hug him, too!”

“No fair! Scoot over!”

“Screw it, I’m glomping him!”

“W-Wait, I don’t think that’s the best idea—!”

He was too late to try objecting, and soon he, Iida, and Uraraka were pummeled by the rest of their classmates. It wasn’t until they were nothing more than a heap of tangled limbs and constricted airways that they realized how terrible a plan this was, but Izuku couldn’t help but laugh, even if it was hoarse.

They knew everything now, and even though it’d been hard, he was glad for it.

He took the prescribed dosage of sleeping aids before bed that night. His friends had offered to stay with him, like they’d promised, but he’d assured them that he’d be okay for tonight and he wanted to see how well the sleeping aids actually worked.

So, he bade them farewell, thanked them for everything, then went to bed.

He fell asleep easily enough, but again, staying asleep became a problem. He didn’t see a lot before he woke up again, but the glimpses of the alternate reality had been enough to shake him and leave him wide awake.

So, that was a no for the sleeping aids. He’d had high hopes for them, too.

He didn’t feel like getting up, though, so he tossed and turned relentlessly for hours on end, trying (and failing) to find some comfortable position. He wanted to sleep again—he really was exhausted—but his chest felt tight, and whenever he closed his eyes, he was overwhelmed by this sense of dread and hopelessness.

He sighed.

I guess dying is finally starting to take its toll on me…

He sat up, and after a moment or two of mentally wrestling with himself, he reached over to his bedside table and felt around for his phone. Finally, his fingers closed around it, and he pulled it to himself and turned it on.

The phone light was blinding, and he turned away until his eyes adjusted (which didn’t take very long at all). After a moment, he pulled up his contact list and scrolled through them. He scrolled through them, found who he was looking for and—

Stopped. His fingers paused over the screen. He stared at the contact name for a long while.

He wanted to, but at the same time, he didn’t. He couldn’t burden them, even if they said they didn’t mind. He couldn’t throw all of this on them, not when he’d already thrust so much onto them.

But his friends had told him to let them know if he needed anything. He knew they were worried; even though he was alive and breathing now, he knew they were scared, that they were still shaken up by everything, and he knew they would rather he come to them for help. They didn’t care the time of day or the time of night. They’d said they wanted to be there for him, and he believed them.

So, at long last, he tapped the contact and held the phone to his ear, waiting.

It’s really late, though…

...I hope I’m not waking him up…

The phone barely got through one full ring before it was answered.

“Hello? Midoriya?”

“Hey, Iida,” Izuku said uneasily, and then, a second later, “I-I didn’t wake you up, did I…?”

“No, you didn’t,” came Iida’s response. “I was studying, actually. What’s wrong?”

“Umm…” Izuku traced the bedsheet absentmindedly with a finger. “The...the sleep aids are a no-go.”

“Oh, right. Hmm...do you want to talk about anything? Is there something in particular that’s bothering you, or is it just...in general?”

“P-Probably just, in general. With everything,” Izuku answered thickly. “I-I don’t know. Everything just feels...like it’s been turned on its head, I guess. Ever since that day...”

“...This is probably a stupid question, but...are you alright?”

Izuku swallowed hard. This time, he didn’t lie. “...I’m not. I’m really, really not.”

Iida was silent for a long, seemingly endless while.

And then,

“Meet me downstairs, alright? I’ll sit up with you.”

“Y-You don’t have to—”

“Midoriya. We’ve been over this. Just take it, alright?”

Izuku stopped short, and in his heart, he knew Iida was right. Iida wasn’t the kind of person to lie; if he said he didn’t mind staying up with him, then it meant he didn’t mind. Izuku didn’t have to worry about the sincerity of his words. Iida meant them.

So instead of arguing again, Izuku nodded. “Okay, I’ll...I’ll meet you down there.”

“Alright, good. Bring a blanket, it’s supposed to be cold tonight and the common room doesn’t warm up quickly.”

“G-Got it. See you.”

“See you.”

Iida terminated the call, and Izuku swung himself off the bed, wrapped his blanket around his shoulders, and took the elevator downstairs.

Iida was there when he arrived, though it looked like they’d nearly gotten there at the same time. Iida was carrying his blanket rather than settling it around his shoulders, and the glow of the hall light exposed his concerned expression.

Izuku swallowed thickly. “Iida, I—”

The elevator dinged unexpectedly, and Izuku and Iida both jumped and looked towards it. The doors slid open, and out stepped Todoroki, Kaminari, Kirishima, Ashido and Hagakure, all carrying their own blankets and pillows.

“W-What?” Izuku managed, eyes widening as they stepped out of the elevator and the doors shut behind them. “What are you guys doing here…?”

“None of us could sleep,” Kirishima answered shortly, already spreading his blanket out on the floor, “and we heard you and Iida leave, so we thought we’d see what was going on.”

“Besides, we promised we’d look out for you!” Hagakure interjected before Izuku could object. “We couldn’t just sit there and wonder what was wrong, we had to find out!”

Iida sighed heavily, but to Izuku’s surprise, he didn’t reprimand them. “Alright,” he said, straightening his glasses, “but please—”

The arrow on the elevator lit up, and everyone turned to look.

“...It’s going up again,” Todoroki stated, like it wasn’t already obvious.

It didn’t take long for the elevator to return, and when it did, it brought with it Yaoyorozu, Sero, Satou, Jirou, Kouda, and Mineta. It was a tight squeeze with all of them, but they made it work, somehow.

“Y-You guys, too?” Izuku asked, something in his chest aching. “Y-You didn’t have to—”

Footsteps drew his attention to the staircase, and down came Aoyama, Tokoyami, Uraraka, Tsuyu, Shouji, Ojirou, and at the back of the pack, Bakugou. They all had blankets and pillows.

Izuku stared, hardly believing it. “Everyone?”

Tokoyami sighed and shook his head. “What can we say, Midoriya? We’ve been worried.”

“Besides,” Uraraka said, holding up her phone, “Todoroki said you were awake and that you might need some support.”

Izuku whirled around to face him. Todoroki pretended not to notice.

“You shouldn’t have to be alone if you’re going through things like this,” Yaoyorozu said, and he turned to her instead, listening. “I know you don’t always accept our help, but we are here for you, and we care about you deeply.”

“Heck yeah we do!” agreed Kaminari immediately, nodding. “There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for you, man. And like Yaoyorozu said, we know you probably feel awkward about it, or maybe you think you’re burdening us, but it’s really fine. It’s easier for twenty people to carry something than one, right?”

Izuku couldn’t find his voice for the longest moment. And then, when he did, he smiled.

“Thank you,” he said, looking down at his feet. “I—I know I’m bad at—accepting help, but...I appreciate it a lot. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it!” Sero said, flashing him a thumbs-up. “Now if we’re ready—!” He tossed two blankets to the floor and shook out the third one. “We should build some kind of a blanket fort! The biggest one we’ve ever seen!”

“That’s a great idea!” Yaoyorozu exclaimed, spinning towards him. “I can build a couple beams. I don’t think Aizawa-sensei would mind.”

“I’ll get some lights!” Kaminari offered, already running for the elevator. “I’ve got some white Christmas lights from last year, gimme one second!”

“Do you wanna help me make hot cocoa, Uraraka?” Satou asked, to which Uraraka nodded immediately and left with him, Hagakure, and Ashido into the kitchen.

“Do you need help?” Izuku asked, starting towards them. “I could—”

Iida caught him on the shoulder and held him back. “No. You’re going to sit down before you collapse again.”

Izuku turned to him, feeling kind of betrayed. “But—”

“This is part of the ‘letting us help you,’ Midoriya,” Tokoyami said simply (behind him, the elevator door swung open and out ran Kaminari, holding the box of lights over his head like a trophy). “Sit down, we’ll take care of everything.”

A part of Izuku wanted to object, to say that he was fine and that they didn’t need to worry.

But he didn’t. The longer he thought about it, the less he wanted to say any of that.

So he nodded and sat down on the couch without protest, and his friends built the massive blanket fort around him.

At some point, someone threw a blanket over his head; he responded by blindly swinging a pillow at them. It turned out to be Kirishima, who laughed it off and helped Yaoyorozu secure the corner of the blankets to a metal beam she’d constructed. Ashido crept up behind Bakugou and dropped a marshmallow down the back of his shirt, only to retreat, howling and cackling, with Bakugou fuming behind her.

Kaminari got himself tangled in the lights and had to be rescued by Tsuyu and Uraraka (although, when Mineta did the same thing, no one came to his rescue). Hagakure and Satou helped dish out the hot cocoa, and once the fort was completed and the lights were on, everyone gathered inside.

They played cards, a few rounds of Truth or Dare, even Charades when they were bored enough. Ashido snuck the bag of marshmallows by Iida and kept sneaking around, replenishing people’s supply even when they were out of hot cocoa. When Iida finally caught her, she flung three at him and made a break for it. It was a combination of chaotic and peaceful both at once.

And it was so simple. It was so painstakingly simple that Izuku didn’t know why he hadn’t realized it before now. He’d realized it once before, how much his friends cared about him and loved him—he’d realized it thanks to Second Chance and thanks to the reality without him.

But now it was in the little things that he realized it all the more. It was one thing to miss him when he died, but it was another thing to throw a blanket over him, or toss a couple marshmallows into his cup, or ruffle his hair, or hug him just because he was struggling.

That was something else. That was something closer. That was something that elicited feelings in him that were different from the ones he’d felt before, while witnessing the world without him.

The fact that they were still here with him, still supporting him, still doing whatever they could, was what really hit him hardest.

“Here, try this,” Todoroki murmured, pressing a clump of ice into Ashido’s hand. “And you didn’t get this from me.”

Ashido grinned, closed her fingers around the ice, then crept up behind Bakugou silently. Izuku watched for a bit; and then, Todoroki tapped him on the shoulder.

“You doing alright?” Todoroki asked, withdrawing his hand. “You...have a kind of weird look on your face.”

Izuku exhaled sharply through his nose and shook his head. “I feel kind of weird,” he admitted, drawing the blanket further around his shoulders. “Like...I just feel kind of...light? If that makes sense? I don’t know it’s...it’s weird.”

Todoroki studied him for a little while longer. “Is it...a good kind of weird?”

“HEY WHAT THE HELL, I’LL KILL YOU!”

Ashido dashed from the blanket fort, pursued by an angry, cursing Bakugou, and Izuku smiled faintly.

“It’s a great kind of weird.”

Todoroki blinked, but then he smiled too.

It was one of the strangest scenarios Aizawa had ever walked in on.

None of the students had been there for morning homeroom. Not even Iida or Yaoyorozu, who wouldn’t miss class even if they were physically unable to get out of bed. The fact that no one was there was concerning; which led to Aizawa making his way to Heights Alliance to find out exactly what the problem was.

He was met with a blanket fort and twenty snoring students dog-piling each other within.

Aizawa sighed, not because he was annoyed, but because there was absolutely no way he could be upset with them. He resigned himself to it. They were no doubt here for Midoriya. They’d probably stayed up all night with him just to make sure he was okay.

Aizawa didn’t wake them. He left the dormitory silently, and when he returned to the school, explained the situation to Nedzu, who, likeminded, gave the students the day off.

It couldn’t keep happening—they couldn’t always give the students a school excuse—but today, for now, they’d make an exception.