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Maybe it was his mind, maybe it was his emotions or even what he'd just experienced; but the small room that now served as his cell just seemed even smaller. Suffocatingly so, with the blaring artificial lighting that never seemed to dim and the walls that ensured that everything was silent except for a few ragged breaths. That was probably the panic that was still bubbling under the surface of Izuku's skin.
What had he done?
Even after the day's events, Izuku still hadn't been able to collect himself up off the floor. Seated on the concrete, back against the wall, knees pulled up close to his chest and his arms wrapped around them in turn. He could feel the offending metal encircling his wrists, the cold scratch of the warped cuffs biting into his torn skin, but the pain served no purpose to ground him.
Neither could he fall further into the panic that was still grasping at his lungs. That still forced him to pull in small and uneven breaths, that made his eyes wet with tears that he was surprised could still flow after what he'd experienced.
Reality always seemed to have an unusual way of crashing down. How the very moment when Shigaraki had walked out of the room and locked the door behind him, when his body had realised it no longer needed to be on edge and hypervigilant of everything around him; he'd crashed.
Hard.
Tears had already been flowing, emotions had been running rampant, but as time went on and he got himself more under control, Izuku was forced to face up against what had occurred with a mind that wasn't shrouded by intense fear and panic and terror.
There was a reason he still had his face pressed into his knees.
The floor in front of him was still tarnished.
The blackened mark that etched out the place that had once situated three people. Three people who had stated their names, three people who had looked absolutely terrified and confused because they hadn't had anything to do with anything.
They were all innocent civilians, each and every one. They'd simply been plucked from their lives to serve purpose as a punishment because Izuku had stepped out of line.
His own pain? That was easy enough to handle.
To watch others as Shigaraki wrapped all five of his fingers around bare skin, those people not realising the weight of the action that had just befallen them until the decay had begun to spread. Jagged lines of grey, stripping away layers of skin and then muscle and then bone and then, and then…
Izuku rocked his head back, keeping his eyes screwed shut as he knocked it against the wall behind him.
The screams.
Shigaraki had picked places that specifically drew out the torture. Grasping onto ankles and wrists so one of the final things that would succumb to his Quirk would be the torso, the neck, and then the head. The screaming had been prolonged that way, all those people screaming and begging because they didn't deserve to have their lives snatched away.
There hadn't been anything he could have done, Izuku had to tell himself that. He had to stay logical. He'd been chained to the wall, he'd dragged and pulled, struggled against his chains in an effort to get these… Lessons to end.
Izuku had to resign himself to watch, to scream and beg, but that wouldn't have stopped the inevitable. He couldn't have stopped the inevitable.
He twisted his wrists slowly, feeling the way the weights of the chains made the fresh bruising and cuts around his wrists sting with a renewed vigour. They were the marks that he had now, the pain that he was experiencing.
Three people were dead with their ashes still strewn out over the floor of his tiny room, an unexplainable smell of coal and dust and something reached his nose and in that moment, on top of everything else, there was a conscious effort to not vomit.
He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. To face up against the results of his actions. This was because he'd tried to run, because he'd fought back.
Then his mom had been the fourth person, and it had turned from a lesson into a desperate bargain.
Or maybe it had always been a bargain to begin with, maybe it had always been a case of saving four lives in return for his Quirk?
He just hadn't realised until the traffic officer was gone and in his place had been someone that forced unadulterated fear into every part of Izuku's being.
Izuku's lip quivered, a fresh streak of tears squeezing out from closed eyelids and down his cheek.
You did the right thing. His mind supplied suddenly.
He had, it had been the right choice. It had been his mother, knelt in the floor in front of him just out of his reach and she'd been crying. She'd been crying so hard but even then she'd fallen into the role of his mom, conforming him as he begged and shouted. As he screamed because three people had died but not her, not her, not her…
He would always protect his mom, he would do to ensure her safety. Before everything.
Yet the feeling that he'd committed an unspeakable and world ending act hadn't left. The weight in his chest and the sobs that intermittently wracked his already sore throat, that he'd saved someone he cares so much about, but he'd doomed everything else. He'd given up One for All so willingly that even when the Quirk itself - the vestiges that resided within, had tried to go against his decision of passing the Quirk on.
Izuku had still made his choice.
What would All Might say if he knew you’d betrayed him?
He turned to one side and heaved the contents of an empty stomach onto the floor beside him, the burn of bile ravaging his already spent throat.
The weight in his stomach seemed to grow heavier, and the heaving didn't halt even after the final dregs of whatever was left had been brought back up.
He was the Ninth holder of an exponentially powerful Quirk. A Quirk that had survived for generations and had been passed down and down, through war and death, from person to person.
All the way from the First Holder, the one who plagued his dreams and encroached on his wakefulness in visions, to Nana Shimura, to All Might - Yagi Toshinori. To him.
All the way to him, only for him to give it up to save a single person.
Cold shock filtered into his body the instant that thought had entered his head.
It wasn't just one person. She was his mother. He'd do it again, he'd make the same choice again if it came to it.
He'd willingly give up a Quirk that had been successfully kept out of villainous hands for generations.
He willingly gave up everything All Might had fought for, everything his Sensei had died for, in order to save one person.
A hero sometimes had to make the hard decisions.
But between his mother, and a Quirk? There was no argument.
Even if, whichever scenario he thought through, it left him feeling hollow.
He'd saved his mom, but now Tomura had One for All.
But if he'd let his mother die instead?
There had been no right option, only the selfless and the selfish. Three people had died, but Izuku had saved his mother.
What sort of a hero am I?
The one who made the right choice.
The emptiness in his chest left by an absent quirk was still there, and always would be.
Eventually, after what had felt like an hour of heavy limbs and choked but slowing sobs, Izuku forced himself to look up. He didn't want to, he wanted to do anything else, he just needed to move.
His eyes settled on the blackened markings on the floor.
He had to get up.
The wall was still cold against his back, the scrape of the slightly shifting chains grating in his ears.
Why wasn't he moving? Why couldn't he just make himself stand..?
Izuku forced out a shallow breath. He didn't know how long it had been since his mom had been dragged from the room, or how long he'd been effectively disassociating on the floor. All he could hope was that their agreement had been honoured and Tomura had returned his mother back into the safety of the heroes.
Not that he had any way of being sure, who was there to say that she hadn't been decayed when his door had swung shut, and Izuku was running on the false hope that his mom was still alive?
He wiped roughly at his eyes in a weak attempt to ground himself, to stop his mind from racing. It was exhausting, but it didn't seem like this oxymoron of emptiness and sheer panic was going to leave anytime soon.
He just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to go back to that morning, or even to a few days back before he'd made his escape attempt.
Anything for this day to have never happened.
Izuku sniffled wetly.
Then a resounding click ricocheted around the room, the clear sound of the lock on his door disengaging. Even with exhaustion thrumming and eyes still red and swollen from all the tears, his attention flicked to the door in an instant. He knew who was about to walk in, but it didn't halt the sensation of his heart seizing when Tomura stepped over the threshold of the doorway.
He hadn't even realised that Search had been active until the oppressive sensation of being watched had faded away from his awareness. It relieved the pressure muzzing his head, but not by much.
The way he walked in was far too casual for someone who had just committed cold-blooded murder, but Izuku hadn't expected anything less from the successor of the world's most powerful villain. The lack of empathy.
The soft smile gracing the others features only served to make his stomach roll again.
Shigaraki was holding a bottle of water in one hand, and a small bundle of tissues in the other. In any other scenario, it would seem almost caring. Though being chained to a wall and knowing that the elder would so willingly turn to kidnapping and murder in order to solidify his apparent lessons in Izuku's mind, he couldn't help but push himself further against the wall. The slight shift made it apparent that his legs were verging on going to sleep, and his lower back was aching due to his position on the concrete floor, but that didn't do much to stop him from shrinking into himself.
His breath caught in his throat as Shigaraki stepped closer, stepping directly onto the pile of ashes as he crouched down in front of him with the water held outwards for Izuku to take.
He didn't move an inch.
There was a quiet sigh from the elder as he placed the bottle down at Izuku's side, then reached up with the tissue in his other hand.
That, at least, managed to draw a reaction.
" Don't ." Izuku rasped out, wincing at the sting in his throat.
Shigaraki simply stayed silent and watched for a second, his eyes raking over Izuku's form as if taking him in properly now, seeing something he hadn't taken into account earlier on in the day.
Or even, was it still the same day now? Or was it the next?
"You need to drink," It was stated plainly, but with a clear undertone of concern. Maybe it was the rasp in Izuku's voice, the strain in that single word he'd forced out, but the villain looked worried.
He looks like a concerned brother.
Izuku closed his eyes and forced that thought from his head, pushing back on the floor so he was that little bit of distance. "I don't want anything from you." Izuku ground out, fixating a bloodshot glare onto the man, "You- just… Leave me alone. Please."
"You know I can't do that. I'm here to protect you, to keep you safe. I can't just leave whilst you're so upset, Little Brother."
No, he didn't need this. He didn't need brotherly affection, he didn't need Tomura so close. He wanted to be alone, he wanted to grieve alone.
Izuku didn't want to stare at the man who now possessed his Quirk. No, at the person he'd willingly given his Quirk to. The one who killed without question, just to teach a lesson. Someone who was driven by need and ideals, someone who couldn't be swayed from their chosen path.
Izuku felt the brush of a tissue down his cheeks, the sensation of a careful hand tipping his head up just so, to ensure all the tear tracks and to the boys horror, blackened smudges of what must have been decay being lifted off with light wipes of the soft material.
There was no quirk at play, just the rhythmic pattern of the attentive cleaning of his face, even brushing a few stray hairs back into place, wiping his nose and disposing of the used rags on the floor beside the two of them.
There wasn't the strength inside him to pull away anymore, so he just let out a small breath and for once, stopped fighting back. At least for a moment.
The boy blinked heavily, the sensation of sleep far too suddenly grasping at his body. Dragging at his bones, pulling his eyelids as if an outward force was trying to get them to close. He knew he should have been panicking, that Tomura didn't even have that sixth stolen Quirk active, but even then he found his mind lulling as sleep ached to take hold.
Only, Izuku didn't allow it. He couldn't, not in the presence of a villain that was far too much into his personal space. There was warm breath on his cheek, fingers lightly tangled and tugging on his hair. The tissues had all been used, and now Izuku realised with clarity that he was being lulled by gentle reassurances and caring touches.
He shifted just slightly and tilted his head away from the contact.
Why couldn't he just be left alone?
"Little brother," Tomura whispered.
Izuku opened his eyes reluctantly, ready to summon up a scathing glare and a bitter remark to get the other to leave.
Only he didn't lock eyes with his captor, he locked eyes with a figure encased in shadow. A grin wide on his face and white tousled hair bright in the darkness.
He blinked hard, to force the vision away.
Only, when he looked up again, it hadn't shifted. It was still the same older man. Still. Still-
He didn't have his Quirk anymore. He couldn't… Shouldn't…
The illusion fell away when he felt a palm cup his left cheek, and any rising dregs of panic faded in an instant. Izuku's eyes were set on Tomura's, body relaxing as more focus was placed into the Quirk.
Safe.
"You know that I'm here for you, little one." There was a wide smile on his face, Izuku could see that now. Toothy, and to anyone who could think clearly, almost demented. The voice was deeper too, almost as if it had an echo. An overlap, two different tones.
Two different people.
Maybe a part of him was still stuck in the vision.
Safe.
He tilted his head into the touch, letting out a soft breath. Compared to the mere dregs of safety he'd been provided when the Quirk had fought with his unbridled panic of watching as his mother had been dragged away from him, he couldn't bring himself to worry. He couldn't bring himself to do much else other than take in one breath after another.
There was rough pain in his throat, the smell of sick and decay still met his nose.
Still, Izuku couldn't bring himself to worry, only allowing himself to settle into the warm confines of the quirk as a controlled numbing calm wrapped around his mind.
Tomura's hand was still pressed against his cheek, his thumb tracing slow circles where it was placed.
"We're meant to be together. You're meant to be here." Tomura hummed softly and shifted until he was sitting down on the floor instead of crouching. Legs crossed beneath himself and knees brushing up against Izuku's side.
The hand still hadn't moved.
He couldn't bring himself to argue against the other's words.
"You're always meant to be by my side, Little Brother. All for one,"
"And one for all." Izuku mumbled back, feeling the words slip out as he finished the phrase. Then he felt his brows furrow faintly. The words were right, they came easily, flowed smoothly. It was as if he'd said that phrase before.
Or heard it before.
Safe.
Something nagged at the edge of his awareness. It didn't feel right, even if the saying surfaced some old and fogged memories, even if the words felt right falling from his mouth, even with the Quirks forced calm.
There was still the rhythmic stroke of the thumb over his cheek, the other hand tangled in his hair, the fixed gaze of his white-haired jailer as he tried to provide comfort in a situation which was a cause for anything but.
Maybe it was his Brother's smile?