Chapter Text
Part One: Life
Naomasa is filled with worry as he watches the alley fight on the monitor in front of him.
That knife came close. Too close.
Or at least he thought it did, considering that the young vigilante appears as nothing more than a staticky blur in the camera footage. And that’s without the eerie red cloud of smoke.
And yes, he does mean young vigilante. A child. The very few eye witness accounts of Ghost were very clear about that. The kid doesn’t even bother to use a voice changer, though if the way the cameras behave around him is any indication of how he affects electronics, Naomasa can wager a few guesses as to why. However, it’s the other reports about the boy that are even more concerning.
Naomasa looks up as the door opens to the only person who never knocks. Eraserhead makes a beeline for the coffee machine in the corner before even looking at Naomasa, filling his thermos with the steaming liquid he had pre-made knowing the underground hero would be coming. He then plops down on the cushioned chair across from him, digging his eyedrops out of his pocket.
“Rough night?”
Eraser just shoots him an annoyed look, “You wouldn’t believe.”
“Well, I have another case for you.” Eraser groans as Naomasa pulls out the file he’d prepared earlier and places it on the desk. “Hey, I think you’ll be interested in this one.”
He turns the monitor to Eraser, waiting patiently as the hero watches the footage impassively.
“A new vigilante?” Eraser asks, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly, “What’s with the static?”
Naomasa pauses the video right as one of the thugs swings his knife. Even with all the static, it looks as if the blade goes straight through the kid instead of hitting him. “This is Ghost, a vigilante active in the Outer City. He’s known to sell information and analysis to underground heroes and fellow vigilantes, and from what I’ve seen, it’s professional grade.”
“I may have heard of him,” Eraser grunts, “So I’m assuming you want me to bring him in?”
“Hmm, not in the way you think,” Naomasa opens the file from before, “There have been some… strange reports from both eye witnesses and criminals brought in after encountering Ghost.” Eraser nods slightly, encouraging him to go on.
“First of all, every single one of them insists that he’s young. Likely around twelve or thirteen, at least according to his height and description.”
Eraser’s eyes widen a little in shock, before he closes them, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“And I’m guessing there’s more?”
Nodding gravely, Naomasa levels Eraser with a serious look.
“One of the criminals we brought in last week had a damaged quirk.”
The hero almost looks confused for a second, before his whole body jolts in wide-eyed recognition. The chair scrapes the ground as Eraser abruptly stands, slamming his hands down on the desk.
“You’re serious? You really think it’s him?” Eraser demands, his usual flat and even tone interrupted by an uncharacteristic amount of emotion.
“If you’re asking if I think Ghost is the kid you’ve been looking for for almost two years,” Naomasa opens the file and slides it towards the hero. A green-haired boy with wide, matching green eyes and freckles stares up from the page, a nervous smile plastered across his face. “Then yes, that is what I’m saying.”
Eraser’s gaze almost seems distant. Naomasa swears he hears him whisper, “You’re alive… Thank god you’re alive.”
Naomasa knows that the underground hero had gotten attached to the kid. Eraser had spent nearly a week watching over him in the hospital, before the kid apparently disappeared without a trace. He doesn’t know what happened, but he knows Eraser has been looking ever since. However, the way he’s reacting makes Naomasa feel like he just told the man he’d found his child.
“I’m not arresting him,” Eraser states, his hard glare leaving no room for argument. He slides a hand down his face, “I won’t. No, I can’t do that to the kid.”
“And I’m not asking you to,” Naomasa gives a reassuring smile, “As far as the rest of the department knows, Ghost and Midoriya Izuku are still two completely separate people.”
“What?”
“Eraser, I’m not asking you to catch Ghost,” Naomasa states calmly, “I’m asking for help with a missing persons case. Well, at least officially.”
Eraser gives him a prodding look. “What about the Commission?” Eraser questions, “They were looking for him too.”
“I have someone on that.” Naomasa sighs. “I let Nedzu read some of the kid’s analysis from when he was in the hospital, and needless to say, he’s on board.”
A heavy silence fills the room as Eraser glares at him, searching for any sign of deceit.
Sighing, Eraser slides back down into his chair and resolves himself with a nod. “Not sure whether to feel relieved or horrified that the rat’s involved, but I’ll ask Aiko if she can cover my patrol routes for a while.”
Naomasa heaves a sigh of relief. If anyone can find Midoriya and bring him to safety, it’s Eraserhead. He just hopes the kid can stay out of trouble until then.
Izuku’s going to die
It’s all he can think as thick, warm slime floods his throat.
All Izuku had wanted when he’d left his apartment that afternoon was a quiet grocery run. That’s all. The mini fridge in his small one room flat was totally empty, save for a half-eaten plate of dumpster katsudon he’d had to fight an alley cat over. He’s saving that.
So he’d had to go out. You’d better believe he wouldn’t be out during the day otherwise.
But as soon as he entered the overpass marking his usual route to the shopping district, he was attacked by a villain. Because, why not, right?
It burns. His lungs scream as he struggles for air he has no access to, tears forming in his eyes as he thrashes and claws at the liquid cage he’s trapped in. He tries to reach for the rounded objects in his pocket, a trio of assorted enchanted bombs he keeps on his person at all times for emergencies. He distantly hopes he remembered to label them this time. Why do these things always happen to him? He already knows the universe hates him, but this is ridiculous!
“Quit struggling kid! I’m not going to kill you! I just need—” the villain pauses abruptly as Izuku almost snags one of the eyes floating in the gray mass. The slime tightens even more around Izuku, the pressure becoming nearly unbearable, arms pinned to his sides, “—your body!”
That’s supposed to be comforting? Izuku shudders at the thought of this villain wearing his skin like a meat suit. But then he shudders even more as he feels his power—his aura—well up inside of him, agitated and threatened. Its usual white-green color becomes an angry red-black, shifting from its usual protective position around his body as it reaches for the villain’s aura, singing its terrible, deadly song.
No no no please don’t not again nonononon—
A harsh rush of wind rips through the overpass, pulling the slime off of Izuku. Izuku crashes to the ground, coughing and hacking his guts up on his hands and knees. It must be minutes before he finally feels like he can breathe again. Then he stiffens as what feels like the biggest hand he’s ever seen slaps him on the back.
“Are you alright, young man?”
Izuku startles. That voice sounds… familiar. There’s just no way… right? When he looks up to find the Number One Hero crouched over him, his signature smile blinding, he has to hold back a strangled squeal. The huge, muscle bound Symbol of Peace smiles down at him, patting his back reassuringly. The only thing missing is his hero costume.
The man is dressed in a casual white T-shirt and green cargo pants, but otherwise, he looks exactly like the videos. The two tufts of blonde hair standing straight up. The huge, reassuring smile he’s never stopped smiling no matter what.
The thing that sticks out the most, however, is his blinding, golden fireball of an aura, almost too bright to look at.
Holy shit it’s All Might
“That’s correct! You’re safe now, young man, I am here!” the hero announces. Izuku blushes, realizing he’d just said that out loud.
“A-ah, I-I’m fine!” Izuku replies, giving a shaky smile and a thumbs up, careful to avoid looking the man in the eyes. He can’t deal with that right now.
The hero’s huge hand pats him on the back again, almost knocking him into the ground. “That was a close call, young man! You really should watch your surroundings better! You never know what could be lurking in the shadows.”
You have no idea.
All Might stands up fully, scooping up what looks like a water bottle, absolutely towering over Izuku’s small frame, and turns to leave, “Well, if you’re okay, I really must be going. I have to take this guy to the police!”
“W-wait!” Izuku practically jumps up, scrambling forward and reaching for the notebook and pen he always carries in case he runs into a villain fight. He quickly finds it soaked through with slimy water. Still, he can’t let this opportunity go to waste. He still can’t really believe this is even happening right now. “Can I ask you something?”
Izuku doesn’t know what he even wants to ask. If he can be a hero? Really?
Images of a blonde boy with spiky hair and violently red eyes fill his mind, sneering at him. Calling him useless. Telling him he should take a swan dive off the—
Izuku shakes that memory from his mind, his elf-like ears drooping a little at the mere thought of it. His dream of being a hero, a dream carefully nurtured by two childhood friends, is long dead, shattered to pieces even before his life went to shit. He knows that. Something like him could never be a hero.
But hope is a hard beast to kill.
The hero turns back hesitantly, wide smile strained a little. “Of course you can, my boy! But make it quick, I am on a very tight schedule at the moment!”
Izuku hesitates for a moment, before drawing in a shaky breath. “D-do you think, t-that I—”
“Found you”
A shudder racks Izuku’s body, and he finally sees the spirit sitting just behind All Might. Even sitting it easily reaches his height. Bright green eyes stare right through him, its golden fur waving through the air as it fixes its fox-like features in a sort of triumphant grin. Two horns, he notes. Definitely not a spirit he wants to mess with.
What does that mean? Found me?
“Do I think you can do what, young man?”
Izuku snaps his gaze back to All Might, and realizes he made the mistake of making eye contact a little too late. Izuku is hit with the strongest sense of pain he’s ever felt as All Might tenses, and then suddenly the air is filled with a puff of smoke. Izuku coughs and waves his hand in front of his face.
Does All Might use smoke bombs too?
Something in the haze catches Izuku’s attention. A single long strand of blonde hair drifts through the air, tumbling over itself as it makes its way…
Right into Izuku’s gaping mouth.
Now he’s choking for an entirely different reason. It’s, well, stringy, and coarse and why am I thinking about this?!? He tries to cough it up, but he’s pretty sure it went all the way down his throat. Just. Why?
When the smoke clears, what Izuku can only describe as Small Might is standing there.
He’s still just as tall as he was before, but if it weren’t for the long locks of blonde in the front, as deflated as they are now, and the blue pin-pricks of power in his eyes, Izuku wouldn’t have recognized this skeletal figure as All Might. Well, that, and the fact that he still has the same flaming gold aura as before.
“Um… A-All Might?”
The skeletal man just gapes at him, small trails of blood leaking from his mouth, before he suddenly surges forward, grabbing Izuku by the shoulders.
“W-wha!?” Izuku can’t help the way his body locks up, trembling uncontrollably.
“Did you just swallow something? What was it!”
“Ah, u-um, a p-piece of hair, maybe?” Izuku shakily replies. “I-I-is s-something wrong?”
His breath catches. Of course something’s wrong. The man looks terrified. It must be his eyes, they scared him. They scare everyone. Of course they do, he’s nothing but a monster, everyone can tell. What if All Might hurts him? No! All Might’s a hero! Why would he… Would he?
Wouldn’t I deserve it?
All Izuku can hear is his own heart pounding in his chest, trying to break free, to escape the panic clawing its way up his throat, stealing his breath away. He’s suddenly choking, gasping for air.
All Might says something else, but he can’t hear what, and he feels the hands let go of his shoulders, or maybe he falls through them, he can’t tell. He crashes to the ground, his legs suddenly unable to bear his weight, and starts curling in on himself, trying to be as small as possible.
A concerned hand reaches out for him, but he can’t help but flinch away, can’t help the memories flooding his mind, of different hands reaching for him, taking him away, of his mother’s cold, lifeless body lying a few feet behind him… It’sallmyfaultimsorryitsnot—
No! He desperately pushes the memory from his mind, forcing himself to breathe before the panic fully sets in. He struggles to distract himself, letting his hands rake the asphalt below him, his eyes trace the cracks and crevices of the underpass.
In for four two three four, out for four two three four…
After what feels like forever, he lets out a shaky breath, his heartbeat beginning to settle slowly as he catches his breath, steeling his mind. He’s only vaguely aware of All Might's concerned voice issuing from somewhere above him.
He can’t do this right now. He knows damn well he’s still going through it, but he needs to get away.
He doesn’t remember getting to his feet, running away, hearing a frantic voice calling after him. But he does know that he only makes it a few blocks away before he’s being pulled roughly into an alleyway.
He tumbles to the ground, barely able to catch himself before he faceplants. What is it now? How could this day get any worse?
He looks up at his assailant, preparing for a fight, and is shocked by what he finds. At first he thinks it’s the slime villain again. But, how could that possibly be true? Then he sees the distinctly transparent quality this slimy figure has, and he almost takes off running again.
Oh. That must be the slime villain’s spirit.
And it's pissed.
“Don’t think I didn’t see what you were about to do, you abomination!”
Izuku shivers for a moment, but then he really gets a good look at the spirit. Its towering, slimy form swirls with iridescent colors like an oil slick, and floating around inside, along with its eyes and serrated teeth, are about 9 or 10 horns.
It may be big, but its energy is weak. It won’t be able to get through the protective layer his aura makes around his body.
“What did you want me to do? He was trying to kill me!” Izuku bites back through labored breaths, mustering up his courage. Spirits are much easier to deal with than humans, after all.
“So what!” The spirit snarls. It brings its glaring eyes down further in its mass and puffs up, in what Izuku guesses is an attempt to appear more intimidating. It doesn’t work. Why is it always the weaker ones that try to be scary?
“I’ve heard about what you do to people! What you were going to do to my bond would’ve been worse than death!”
Izuku does still a bit at that. “I-I didn’t mean too! It jus—”
“Mommy, what’s that guy doing?”
Izuku turns around to see a woman and a little girl holding hands near the mouth of the alleyway. The woman’s mouth is hanging open, confused and slightly fearful.
Izuku just nervously waves. Maybe if I act casual they won’t think I’m crazy?
The woman gapes at him a bit longer, before she drags her daughter away hurriedly. Izuku hears her hiss a hurried, “Don’t look!” to her whining child.
Well that went well. You’d think in a world full of people with superpowers, people would be more open minded.
He doesn’t have time to think about it though, because the spirit behind him seems to have finally had enough of him. A huge glob of slime slams into his side as he turns back to it, but it harmlessly rebounds off the protective shell of his aura, not doing any real damage besides knocking him over. Izuku crashes into the dumpster behind him, landing on a pile of filled garbage bags with a groan.
The slime spirit looks fearful for a moment, then huffs and leaves, disappearing through the wall of the alley.
Izuku lies there for a moment, allowing himself to process what the fuck just happened. Who was that strange spirit? It must have been with All Might, spirits don’t tend to stay near humans they aren’t bonded with. But then, why did it say it found him? Does it need help? That would be just about the only reason a spirit would seek him out. Only if they absolutely had to.
And… What the hell was up with All Might? Was that small form his true form? If that’s the case, then does that mean he has some kind of transformation quirk? There are many theories on All Might’s quirk, he’s seen that one a few times, but it had always seemed to be the most unlikely one. If it was just a simple transformation quirk, then why would All Might be so secretive about it? Maybe he should look into it more? And if it was really his quirk, then why was he in so much pain?
He heaves a sigh and collects himself before he gets lost in another mutter-storm, rising from the ground with a groan before forcing his tired body to the mouth of the alley and towards the shopping district.
He really just wants to get this over with so he can go home and sleep for a year.
Auras are… complicated. Once ignited by a spirit bond at birth, they explode into an endless array of colors and shapes, from swirling galaxies to deep, dark oceans. Everyone has one, and everyone’s is different. They are essentially the core of who a person is, and if you can learn to read them, they can tell you almost anything you need to know about a person.
Take the boy standing next to him in the medicine aisle, for example. His aura spirals, swirling in dark purple hues similar to the boy's wild, lavender hair. It seems very volatile and yet serenely calm at the same time, but deep within it he can see a fire, burning with a fierce rage and determination.
Izuku wonders what kind of quirk it gives him. Its darker depths remind him of some mental quirks he’s seen. Maybe some kind of telepathy? Or even something like mind con—
“Can I help you?”
Izuku jumps. Tired lavender eyes glare into his own, making his skin crawl. That’s odd. Usually people can’t stand looking him in the eyes too long.
“A-ah, no! Sorry!” Izuku sheepishly stutters, holding his hands up placatingly. The muttering and staring probably looked so creepy. He notices his hands get glowy and transparent for a moment before becoming solid again. He’s getting too anxious again, he shouldn’t be doing that in public.
“It’s fine,” the boy drawls, “You were just… muttering.” When Izuku doesn’t say anything in reply, the boy turns to grab a bottle of Midnight themed melatonin gummies off the shelf, and makes to leave before he seemingly changes his mind, turning back to Izuku.
He takes a moment to look Izuku up and down, eyes scanning the raggedy, two-sizes-too-big hoodie and sweats he probably either got at the thrift store or fished out of a dumpster somewhere, he can’t remember right now, his still kind of slimy, unkempt white hair and then at his basket full of various first aid supplies and discounted canned foods. Izuku knows how suspicious he looks, but people usually mind their own business, including heroes, unfortunately. He doesn’t mind, though. It’s what’s best for everyone, honestly.
The other boy seems to wrestle with himself mentally for a second, before asking, “Have I seen you around before? We’re the same age, right?” The boy then narrows his eyes in thought, “You look familiar…”
Izuku is startled at the question. Why is this happening now? Most people either just ignore him or steer clear once they see his eyes. He’s well aware of how homeless he looks, and it doesn’t help that he looks a bit younger than he actually is, but people don’t usually care enough to be concerned, and if they do it’s only for a passing moment. One look at his eyes and they all walk away, saying a hero will help him. All he’d wanted when he went out this afternoon was a peaceful grocery run with no spirits or people bothering him. So far he’s gotten neither of his wishes. Is that really too much to ask?
“Of course it is, you’re you,” Izuku grumbles to himself before he can think better of it.
“What?”
Izuku’s eyes snap up. “Nothing! I-I just…” A bright purple flash next to purple hair has Izuku trailing off. A spirit bursts into being right next to the lavender boy, a dark purple, wisp-like thing with four ridges on its back acting as its horns.
The spirit's head is like a ball of fire, its little humanoid body a fourth of its size. The most striking thing about it, though, are its large eyes. They’re mesmerizing, spiraling in hypnotic neon blues, magentas, and highlighter yellows. He must be staring too long, because it quirks one eye at him in question before huffing in annoyance.
A hand waves through the spirit, and Izuku turns his attention back to the lavender boy, who is also looking at him in question, slightly annoyed, probably wondering what the hell he’s staring at. Well, this is awkward. Now the guy probably thinks he’s a creep and insane.
Izuku quickly mumbles an excuse for himself and fast-walks nervously out of the aisle, getting checked out as quickly as possible before practically fleeing the store. By the Old Ones, he really should learn at least one social skill if he’s going to keep running into people like this.
It’s not even 15 minutes later that Izuku encounters the lavender boy again.
The boy is currently being held to the wall by his collar, surrounded by three other frankly familiar boys in middle school uniforms, all giggling or sneering wickedly. The lavender boy, however, seems just as uncaring and dead inside as he did in the store.
Izuku feels his hands ball into fists, a dull ache welling in his chest. Bitter memories of his days at Aldera fill his mind. Izuku hates bullies.
He’s standing at the mouth of the alleyway before he can even think about how dumb of an idea this is. He silently steps behind the three boys, footsteps barely making a sound as he creeps up behind the one holding the lavender boy’s collar. Lavender boy’s eyes widen a little in surprise when they meet Izuku’s, but none of the others even notice his presence.
Izuku has noticed that he’s developed a few odd guilty pleasures over the past two years, one of which is scaring the shit out of people. He thinks it’s only fair. They scare the shit out of him, too.
“Boo.”
He has to stifle a giggle as all three of them nearly jump out of their skin, and Izuku feels a little better when he sees lavender boy hiding a smirk too.
“Where the hell did you come from!” The first one, a kid with extendable fingers, exclaims. Izuku uses the moment of distraction to shift and place himself in between lavender boy and the other three boys, body instinctively settling into a defensive stance. The three flinch a little at his gaze meeting theirs, but they quickly shake it off, averting their eyes.
Wait… Extendable fingers?
Izuku takes a moment to look at the three boys, really look at them. He doesn’t recognize the one to the left, a stocky, plain looking boy with blue hair, but the long fingered one in the middle and the one with red webbed wings to the right, he recognizes as Kacchan’s goons from Aldera.
Shit, maybe they won’t recognize me? That thought goes out the window, however, when he notices the winged boy—Tsubasa— has his mouth hanging open in shock, eyes blown wide in recognition.
Damn it.
“Who the fuck are you!” Finger boy growls. Izuku doesn’t remember his name, probably never got the chance to learn it in the first place. Kacchan never called any of them by their names, and it’s not like they really talked to him. He only remembers Tsubasa’s because his name literally means ‘wings.’ “Mind your own damn business, asshole!”
“U-um…” Tsubasa reaches for the other boy’s arm, eyes still locked on Izuku, but he’s quickly brushed off.
Izuku has to break this up before Tsubasa has the chance to say anything. He sucks in a deep breath and gathers his courage.
“A-actually, I think you’re the one who should mind your own business,” Izuku states, jabbing a thumb behind him to the lavender boy. “He clearly doesn’t want you in his.”
”Oh, so we’ve got a smartass, huh?” Finger boy scowls. “I don’t give two fucks what that villain scum wants! Out of the way!” The boy raises his fist angrily, reeling back for a punch. He feels lavender boy’s aura pulse in agitation, as if preparing to activate his quirk.
Izuku tenses, preparing to defend himself, but Tsubasa suddenly lurches forward and grabs Finger boy’s arm.
“What!” The boy snaps, whipping his head towards Tsubasa in agitation.
“That’s Deku!”
A heavy silence fills the alley as all of them, including lavender boy, stare at Izuku in shock.
Finger boy squints his eyes, looking at Izuku intensely, before they widen in recognition. “Holy shit you’re right.”
The blue haired one just looks confused, “Who’s Deku?”
“Are you serious? That ‘quirkless’ kid that went missing a few years back? The one that broke Bakugo’s quirk? Doesn’t ring a bell?”
“Oh…” the boy says, backing up a little in fear.
Finger boy seems to be lost in thought, before his face twists up into a sinister grin. Izuku tenses up, gaze hardening. He doesn’t like where this is going.
“You know, they’re offering a shit ton of money for any information on you…” Finger boy sneers, reaching forward to grab Izuku’s arm. “How about we all go down to the police station? We really need the money, you’ll help us out, won’t you?”
Izuku doesn’t think he could be any more tense, his aura churning angrily inside him as he glares at the other boy. All signs of his stutter are lost as he shoots a venomous scowl at the boy, “Why do you need me? You saw me. You already have your ‘information.’”
Finger boy just scoffs, tightening his grip on Izuku’s arm and leaning forward, “Yeah, but imagine how much they’ll pay if we brought you in?”
Before Izuku can even react, a branch of his aura separates from the larger white-green mass, forming a fist before hurling itself into the wall just to the right of Finger boy’s head.
The boy shakily glances at the crater in the cement wall next to him, before letting go of Izuku’s arm and staring at him in horror.
One of the more unique properties of Izuku’s aura is its ability to take on many different shapes and forms according to his intentions, as well as its limited ability to interact with the physical world. Although he doesn’t technically have a quirk, lacking a spirit bond of his own, his ability to minutely control his own aura allows him to mimic the effects of quirks like telekinesis and strength enhancement, among other things.
That is, when it’s actually listening to him.
“Just be glad it didn’t go for your quirk,” Izuku huffs, a little shaken by what just happened.
Finger boy gives a frantic nod, and he and the other boys take off out of the alleyway, leaving Izuku behind to catch his breath and try to get his aura under control again. It’s been very volatile today, he’s noticed.
“Are you really Deku?”
Izuku nearly jumps out of his skin as he turns around wearily to see the lavender boy, his wisp-like spirit floating not far behind him, watching him curiously with its hypnotic eyes. He’d nearly forgotten he was even there, which is kind of dumb, considering he was the whole reason he even ended up in this mess.
“I-uh… Yeah, I guess I am?” Izuku replies sheepishly, fidgeting with his fingers, “A-and you are…?”
The other boy gives him an uncertain look, before he drawls, “Shinsou Hitoshi.”
“M-Midoriya Izu-zuku,” Izuku stammers, not sure what to do with himself.
An awkward silence settles over the alley, until Izuku notices the bruise growing over Shinsou’s cheek. It causes an itch in the back of his mind, one that he rushes to scratch.
“Oh no! Did they hurt you! Let me see!”
Shinsou tenses as Izuku drops his grocery bags and pulls the much taller boy’s face down to his level. That’s going to be a pretty bad bruise if he doesn’t do something.
“What are you—” Shinsou protests, but he’s cut off by Izuku placing his palm against the side of his cheek. Izuku’s aura instinctively rushes and gathers in his hand at his call, and a white light intermingled with soft greens filters through the indent in his palm, a formerly vestigial trait he inherited from his father.
The bruise on Shinsou’s face slowly begins to melt away. Izuku has always found it funny how this destructive power of his is just as capable of healing. It never makes him feel any better though. No matter how many people he heals with this power, it will never erase the hurt it’s caused.
Once he’s done and the bruise has fully gone away, Izuku takes his hand away, the light dimming until it disappears entirely, and a bone deep exhaustion settles within him. Shinsou’s spirit gives him a curious look, before nodding its approval.
“Huh…” Shinsou huffs in surprise, bringing a hand to his now uninjured cheek. He glances at the crater in the wall to his right in confusion, before settling his suspicious gaze back in Izuku, “I thought you had a telepathic quirk?”
“W-well actually, t-hat would be telekinesis. It’s the power to move objects with your mind and comes with a very wide range of uses. It’s actually a very common kind of quirk, my mom actually had a minor fo—” Izuku’s voice quickly devolves into a string of mumbles too quiet to hear, lost in his own train of thought.
Unbeknownst to Izuku, Shinsou slips out his phone and sends a quick text, before hiding it again in his pocket, sighing, “Way to avoid the question, dude.”
Izuku goes stiff with embarrassment, “Ah, s-sorry, what were we talking about again?”
“Your quirk.”
“O-oh…”
An awkward silence settles over the alleyway. Shinsou just calmly leans back against the alley wall, tired eyes never leaving Izuku. The silence is becoming oppressive, so Izuku musters up the courage to ask the strange boy the one thing that’s been bothering him since they met, “Y-you’re not… scared?”
“Of what, you?” Shinsou scoffs, “No offense, but you look like a light breeze could put you on your ass.”
“No! I-I mean, my eyes don’t scare you? You can’t tell…” that I’m not human is left unsaid, “You go to Aldera, right? Didn’t you h-hear what I did to Kacchan?”
“You mean Bakugo?” Shinsou sneers, “That perfect-quirked asshole had it coming to him.”
No he didn’t.
Izuku bites back the retort and remains silent. He doesn’t understand. No one deserves to have that done to them. He’s seen the results one too many times to ever think otherwise. Memories filter through his mind of a dim alleyway, barely breathing bodies strewn around him. He shudders and pushes it away.
Shinsou is looking at him with barely masked concern, and hesitates before saying slowly, as if trying not to frighten a skittish animal, “You know, my mom’s a hero, she can help you. And… I know someone who’s really worried about you.”
“N-no, I’m fine! I don’t need help,” Izuku says, pulling a bit harder on his fingers in his nervousness, a bit confused by what the boy meant. Who could possibly be worried about me? “T-thank you, though.”
“You’ve been missing for two years,” Shinsou deadpans, “I highly doubt that classifies as ‘fine.’” He makes air quotes around the word.
“W-well—”
A loud crash resounds through the air, along with a distant cacophony of shouts and screams. Izuku looks around, thinking that it could be a new spirit popping in and making a commotion, but there’s no one in the alley besides him, Shinsou and the wisp spirit. His eyes land on the mouth of the alley.
There is a strange absence of people on the normally busy streets of the shopping district. Taking a peek out of the alley, Izuku can see why. A crowd is gathering about two blocks down the road. He can’t quite make out why at this distance, but he can see flames running up the side of a building on one side, and something big, gray and amorphous wriggling around just beyond the crowd.
“What’s going on?” Shinsou asks, stepping out of the alleyway too.
“Not sure. A villain attack, maybe?” Izuku squints. He is just about to walk towards it when he notices the small brownish blur hurtling towards him.
“Helpmehelphimhelphel—“
The spirit crashes into Izuku, knocking him a good 10 feet back, sending him flying back into a lamppost.
Images forcefully enter his mind when they make contact, ripped out of his mind as the lilting, song-like language of the ancient spirits fills his head. The spirit’s name. He sees explosions ringing out over desolate battlefields, knives lunging out in darkness, the concrete jungle of Musutafu caving and crumbling on top of him as he feels the most indescribable sense of peril he’s ever felt in his life.
Kiken. A spirit of danger.
The language of the Old Ones doesn’t translate into any known language. Of course, a language that doesn’t use words could never be translated into them, so instead he tries to find words that describe the feeling he got from the name. Though, kiken is little more than just a word used to describe something dangerous. Maybe Kiko would work?
The small, weasel-like spirit in question lifts her teary eyes shamefully to meet his, the deep red he finds in them achingly familiar.
Kiko looks a bit like a white weasel, though with a gold ringed pattern in her fur that reminds him of a lemur’s tail. Lining her back are deep red quills like a porcupine, the ends of some of them igniting in showers of sparks like a lit fuse. She has a long tail pointed with more of those fiery quills.
Four flat horns adorn either side of her head where her ears should be, the first set jutting flatly outward and the second coming out directly on top of the first and curving up slightly. They’re a deep, mahogany red, with golden flecks at the tips.
Her gold rimmed red eyes stare up at Izuku pleadingly. Her words echo in his head, “Please help. They said you would.”
Izuku looks over to Shinsou from the ground, who has just run over to him, looking around frantically for whatever had just launched Izuku so hard. Someone seems to be blowing up his phone, because it’s buzzing nonstop in his pocket.
“Are you okay? What the fuck was that?” Shinsou huffs, his usually bored expression lifted for the first time Izuku has seen.
“I-I’m fine, just a little sore,” Izuku reassures, rubbing his back. He’d hit the lamppost directly, but luckily he’d managed to avoid hitting his head in the impact. He soon has to return his attention to the small spirit still vibrating in his lap, however.
Kiko has started tugging at his shirt, pulling him towards the crowd hard enough to almost rip his hoodie, and starts to plead and beg again almost too fast for him to understand.
Shinsou’s eyes go wide as he stares at his chest, seeing Izuku’s hoodie being yanked roughly by something that isn’t there, “What the—”
“Pleasepleasepleaseple—”
“Settle down!” Izuku shouts, overwhelmed by the situation. He picks the spirit up by the midsection just below her tiny, sharp-clawed arms, pointedly ignoring the odd look he’s getting from Shinsou. Surprisingly, Kiko’s quills tamp themselves down, as if to avoid poking him.
Izuku decides that he’ll just have to ignore Shinsou for now. He can explain later. Or he could just run away and hope they don’t run into each other again. He’ll probably do that.
Izuku sighs, refocusing his attention on the spirit in his grasp, “Why do you need help?”
She looks back at the commotion happening down the street, eyes filling with tears, “That s-slimy human is attacking my bond. You used to be friends, right? I-I know he hurt you, but p-please, he can’t breathe and the heroes aren’t helping!”
Izuku settles her with a confused look. Someone he used to be friends with? Someone who hurt him? But who used to be his—
Izuku sucks in a sharp breath, realization hitting him like a freight train.
Kacchan. She has to be talking about Kacchan.
He looks at Kiko again, her blood red eyes suddenly much more familiar than before. Because they’re Kacchan’s eyes.
Before he can even think about it, he’s running, ignoring Shinsou’s shouts from behind him. Kiko settles around his shoulders as he quickly approaches the crowd. He tries to ignore his rising panic at the thought of being stuck between so many people as his form shimmers and glows slightly and he plunges through the crowd. People shout and shiver as he passes through them like a ghost, but he doesn’t stop until he reaches the blockade at the front of the crowd.
The firefighter hero Backdraft is there, using his hose to fight a fire that had sprung up in a building to the right of the scene, and Kamui Woods is working to keep to crowd under control, his quirk forming a makeshift blockade of tree branches to keep people from getting too close to the villain or the fire.
Mt. Lady and Death Arms, however, are just standing there, watching. Izuku runs over to them, but branches grow to obscure his path.
“Stay back, kid. It’s dangerous,” Kamui Woods says, leveling him with a stern, albeit slightly fearful, look, “I know it seems exciting, but you could get hurt.”
“Exciting?! Someone’s dying! And you’re not doing anything!” Izuku shouts frustratedly. Why are they just standing there?
“What’s going on here?” Death Arms says, having heard Izuku’s shouts. He startles when he meets Izuku’s eyes, backing up slightly. Behind him, the gray-green mass of the sludge villain writhes, his massive liquid body encased around a familiar spiky blonde figure in a middle school gakuran. Kacchan.
This is Izuku’s fault. He distracted All Might before he could get the villain to the police, probably scared him so badly he forgot all about the water bottle in his hands.
Or maybe this one’s on All Might, for not securing the villain well enough…
Izuku tenses, face scrunching up in desperation and hands balling into fists. No time to think about whose fault it is. He’s running out of time.
“Just some kid making a scene,” Kamui Woods huffs to Death Arms.
Death Arms shakes off his initial reaction and narrows his eyes at Izuku, crossing his arms shakily in annoyance, “Right now, there are no heroes here with quirks suitable for the current situation. We will wait for backup, and then handle the villain accordingly.”
“But what about Kacchan! He already can’t breathe! He’ll be dead by then!” This sparks a few shocked whispers from the crowd. Someone shouts at the heroes, and others quickly join in, throwing accusations and worried remarks. A few reporters he hadn’t noticed before fight to get closer to the shouting.
Kamui Woods is quick to respond, “No need to be alarmed, people! The situation is completely under control!” The branches of his arms start to push Izuku further into the crowd, even as he struggles forward and pleads with the heroes to just do something!
Then Izuku’s bright green eyes meet with red ones on the other side of the branches, and the entire rest of the world seems to fade away.
He’s moving before he can even think, Kamui Woods’ eyes widening as he phases right through his arms and ignores the other heroes shouting for him to stop.
Izuku’s hands slip into his hoodie pocket, pulling out a tiny wooden stick wrapped in red bandages covered in deeper red sigils. He pours his aura into it, and it expands into a full length bo staff, the sigils glowing faintly with a white-green light.
“Hey, it’s you aga—Aggh!”
The villain cuts off with a scream as Izuku maneuvers to slam his staff into his eye, stunning him long enough to reach into the slime and drag Kacchan out just enough for him to get his head above the slime. Kacchan’s eyes widen in immediate recognition.
“Dek-”
“Focus!” Izuku snaps, bapping him on the head like a cat before grabbing his collar to try and pull him out the rest of the way.
Something heavy slams into Izuku’s side and sends him sprawling into the burning building next to them, glass scraping his arms and sides as he sails through a window. He tucks into a roll and lands gracefully in a crouched position, eyes scanning the flames and debris for whatever just attacked him.
His aura snaps out to catch something gray flying at him, and he realizes it’s the slime spirit from before.
“I thought I told you to stay away from him!” The spirit wriggles in his aura’s grasp, snarling and snapping at him with its detached set of sharp teeth.
Izuku’s about to reply, when Kiko suddenly rears her head in a growl of her own, “Get out of the way!” The quills on her back ignite, sparking wildly before she flicks her tail towards the other spirit.
Izuku doesn’t know where the explosion comes from, but the slime spirit is flung back through the wall. It peeks back into the room wearily before disappearing, likely retreating back to the spirit world. Kiko’s mouth twists into a triumphant grin.
Huh. That works, I guess?
Katsuki is dead.
He must be dead. It’s the only explanation. There’s just no fucking way that was really Deku. It can’t be.
Slime starts to fill Katsuki’s vision again. He clamps a hand over his mouth and nose, clawing frantically at the slime with the other. Small sparks come out of his hand. His hand that can no longer produce explosions.
He feels so helpless it makes him want to scream. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. Maybe if he wasn’t such a villainous asshole he could’ve already blasted this fucker to hell.
He doesn’t know where Not Deku went. One minute he was pulling him out of the sludge and the next he was being flung into a burning building by… well, nothing.
Katsuki's thoughts are interrupted by the villain’s sudden screech of pain. The slime retreats from around him, pulling itself closer to the villain's eyes and mouth until it forms a vaguely human shape, clutching his head.
Katsuki scrambles away as quickly as he can, but a length of dark green goo snags his leg before he can make it very far.
“Just quit fighting already! It’ll only take a second!”
“Fuck you!” Katsuki stomps and kicks at the slime, but it’s no use, the sludge already crawling further up his leg.
A hissing noise fills the air, and Katsuki turns to see Not Deku chuck a fucking downright cartoonish looking bomb at the villain’s feet. The ground explodes into a blooming cascade of ice, encasing the villain’s legs and the tentacle of slime still wrapped around Katsuki’s ankle.
Katsuki pulls his leg free, the slime shattering like glass.
“Are you okay?”
Katsuki stills immediately. He knows that voice.
Katsuki’s head snaps around, and his eyes widen as he really sees him for the first time. He’s changed so much. His wild forest green curls have turned completely white, and his ears have become droopy and pointed like some kind of elf. His skin is pale and ghostly, the constellation of freckles covering his nose and cheeks standing out against it.
The most jarring, however, is how small and frail he looks. The bags under his eyes are bordering on bruises, and his baggy, threadbare clothes seem to engulf his tiny frame.
But those brilliant, emerald green eyes, they’re the same. Even as he seems to be trying to look anywhere but at Katsuki, he can tell.
It’s really him. Katsuki can’t fucking believe it, but it’s really him.
Deku’s alive. Damn it, he’s really alive.
As Katsuki looks up into that freckled, wide eyed face he hasn’t seen in what feels like forever, he can’t help the tears of relief that start to well in his eyes. He quickly wipes them away. God, he’s pathetic.
A pale hand reaches out, shaky and hesitant, and Katsuki quickly takes it. He’s reluctant to let go after he’s up on two feet, like Deku will vanish the moment they’re not touching.
“Deku? Is… that really you?”
Deku stiffens up, his elf-like ears drooping as he pulls at his fingers like he used to when they were kids. Still just as anxious as ever.
“Ka-Kacchan… I-”
“Yooouuuu!”
The sludge villain rears up, his body exploding again in a rush of dark green fluid as he breaks through the ice and barrels towards them at breakneck speed.
Katsuki immediately tries to pull Deku behind him, but he doesn’t budge, instead shooting him a look that says ‘I’ve got this,’ and a soft smile before turning back to the villain. There is something strange in Deku’s eyes, something Katsuki can’t comprehend just yet. Or ever.
Deku steps forward, dropping the Bo staff he was holding before, and stares into the villain’s eyes dead-on.
And miraculously, the villain stops dead in his tracks.
What follows has got to be the weirdest fucking staring contest Katsuki has ever seen. A giant, angry ball of slime versus a tiny, homeless looking teenager. And the homeless teenager seems to be winning.
The two just stare at each other, and it seems like the whole world goes still as the two wage their silent battle.
Until Deku takes another step forward.
The villain flinches back, yet seems unable to take his eyes off of Deku.
“W-what… what are you?” He whimpers feebly, still inching backwards.
Deku laughs, and it makes something in Katsuki’s chest sink at how pitiful and broken it sounds. “I ask myself that everyday.”
Deku wobbles, and Katsuki’s stomach drops as he watches blood drip from Deku’s face onto the cement.
Katsuki makes to move towards him, to catch him, to just do something, but the villain takes the opportunity first.
“Deku!”
Something… happens as the villain’s massive fist comes down on Deku. Katsuki’s not sure how to describe it, but the air just gets… heavy. He can see a flash of light, angry and red in its intensity, and then it’s all over.
A scream rips through the air, startling everyone out of the dazed stupor they had been in, and the slime villain’s suddenly very flesh body drops to the ground, unconscious.
Katsuki rushes to Deku, who’s now fallen down on his knees, hunched over, trembling with his hands over his mouth as he stares unblinkingly at the unconscious form before him. Fresh tears intermingle with the blood pouring from his eyes.
“Shit! Deku? You better not be hurt! Why are you bleeding!?” Katsuki reaches for his shoulder, but he just flinches away, curling in on himself even more.
Katsuki jerks his palm away. He doesn’t know what to do. Of course he doesn’t. He just feels so useless it makes him sick. Katsuki can’t do anything about this, and he really thought he could be a hero? He’s just about to go get help when Deku’s hand shoots out to grab his sleeve.
“P-please d-don’t leave,” Deku’s tiny, broken voice pleads. Katsuki freezes.
He’s not sure what else to do, so he just settles down next to the small boy on the ground, letting him hang onto his sleeve as his frail frame continues to shake with silent sobs. Katsuki’s not sure where Deku learned that, to break quietly, like he’s trying not to let his pain bother anyone else. He hopes it’s not because of him, but by now, he wouldn’t be surprised if it is.
“I got a lot of making up for shit to do, I’m not going anywhere, dumbass.”
Deku gives a shaky giggle, and looks up a little, his teary, bloody eyes meeting Katsuki’s for a moment. He sees it then, a glimpse of the power that drove the villain back. It’s strange, though. He sees no hostility, no danger. Just an overwhelming, ethereal light behind those dull, exhausted green eyes.
Sure, it feels powerful, and old, somehow? But it doesn’t feel dangerous. Just warm? Welcoming? Whatever. Katsuki can’t really describe it. He definitely doesn’t know what the villain was so fucking scared of.
Just… What the hell happened to you, Deku?
He doesn’t know how long he stares, just sitting there with Deku as he tries and fails to collect himself. At some point an ambulance shows up, and the police take the villain away. Through it all, Deku stays curled up, quietly sobbing with his head down and his arms wrapped around his legs, never letting go of Katsuki’s sleeve.
A rough hand on his shoulder breaks the spell, however. Katsuki looks up to see the heroes crowding around them, and he’s almost relieved that they had finally decided to do their fucking jobs and come to check on them, until he sees the handcuffs in Death Arm’s hands.
Are they fucking for real?
Katsuki bats the hero’s hand off his shoulder a little more aggressively than he probably should, not that he cares, eyes still focused on the quirk-suppressant cuffs he’s holding. “The hell are those for, huh!”
“Easy kid, it’s just a precaution…”
“Bullshit! He saved my ass! Maybe if you had done your fucking jobs he wouldn’t have had to do… whatever the fuck he just did!” Katsuki growls. Deep down, he knows what Deku did, but he doesn’t need to think about that right now.
Death Arm’s face scrunches up in anger for a moment, but Mt. Lady slaps him on the arm before he can say anything. They look at each other for a moment, before Mt. Lady speaks. “All we’re trying to do is get him to a hospital, and hopefully back to his parents, safely. We’re just trying to help.” She reaches her hand out to help him up.
Katsuki stills for a moment. What would happen if they found out Deku doesn’t have any parents? What would they do with him then? If they found out what he did, what he can do, there’s no way they’d just put him in foster care. No, they’ll take him away somewhere and Katsuki would never see him again.
Katsuki’s always been suspicious about how the police have been handling Deku’s case. Besides one detective, none of the police were very willing to take Deku’s case when he was kidnapped, at least, not after they found out he was quirkless. After Deku escaped the hospital, Katsuki had expected their attitudes to be the same.
But they weren’t. Suddenly there’s a huge reward for any information on Deku. A pro hero is even personally investigating, some underground hero Katsuki’s never even heard of. He’d like to believe that it’s just more quirkist bullshit, but he knows it’s more than that. Katsuki doesn’t know what happened at that hospital, no one was ever allowed to visit, not that he’d wanted to back then, but something’s changed.
And Katsuki just knows it has something to do with Deku’s quirk. It’s not just about the fact that he has a quirk now either, it’s deeper than that.
Katsuki’s heard the stories, the conspiracy theories about people with rare or dangerous quirks that just disappear. Every record wiped, every trace of them gone. Like they never even existed.
All he knows is that he doesn’t want to find out what they, whoever they are, would do to someone who can destroy quirks. Especially not when that person is his childhood best friend.
Before he can think better of his decision, Katsuki slaps the hero’s hand away, grabs Deku’s wrist, and runs.
The heroes chase after them, their footsteps echoing through the alley they just entered. They race past a dumpster, Deku nearly tripping over a garbage bag before Katsuki practically yanks him back onto his feet, never stopping the whole way.
The heroes, however, never slow down, gaining on them by the second as they burst out into the crowded street on the other side of the alley. Fuck. He’s too slow, especially with Deku stumbling behind him. How the hell are they going to lose these guys?
Katsuki sees Deku slip a hand into his pocket and pull out another one of those bombs, this one wrapped in red paper.
“Where are they?”
Katsuki is confused for a second. There’s fucking no way he can’t see the heroes running after them.
Then Katsuki sees how hazy and bloodshot Deku’s eyes look as he scans around sightlessly, blood still dripping down his pale face.
Shit, he can’t see.
“Right behind us!”
Deku nods, and then, squeezing the bomb until the strange markings Katsuki hadn’t seen before start to glow with a pale light, he tosses it haphazardly over his shoulder.
It hits the ground just in front of Death Arms. He stops, confused for a moment before the fuse starts to spark and sputter, ignited as if by an invisible hand.
“What the-”
Chaos unfolds as the bomb bursts into a dense cloud of glittering red mist, swirling and curling dreamily in the air like a fantastical storm.
People trip over themselves and scream, scrambling to get away from the unknown threat. Katsuki swears he hears Deku let out a weak, bell-like giggle as they barrel towards another alleyway, the heroes lost in the crimson cloud behind them.
Izuku doesn’t know what to think as he and Katsuki walk down the sidewalk, his wrist still firmly held in the other’s grasp.
His eyes have started to clear up now, the temporary blindness associated with overuse of his power fading with every step they take. The skull-splitting migraine, however, is not fading at all.
Normally, the day’s events wouldn’t have this much of an impact on his energy levels, but now that he thinks about it, he can’t remember the last time he slept, or had a decent meal for that matter. It doesn’t help that he’s needed to do those things a lot more than the average person since his powers came in. He feels exhausted, having to force his feet to move as they make their way to… wherever it is they’re going.
The sun is setting now, its orange glow cast on the rooftops of the houses they pass in this vaguely familiar neighborhood. Izuku hasn’t been in this part of Musutafu in years, not since he stopped being invited to Kacchan’s house. Wait… Kacchan’s house?
“Hey, K-Kacchan? Where are we going?” he asks nervously. The other boy hasn’t spoken a word to him since they got away from the heroes, leading him on as they went. Izuku never tried to stop him, still too dazed from the events prior to even think about it.
Kacchan’s head snaps back at him, his eyes alight with a familiar rage that softens when they meet Izuku. He huffs, “My house.”
“I-I never agre-”
“And? There’s obviously something fucking wrong with you, and we can’t go to the damn hospital. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you out of my sight either, so what else are we supposed to do, huh?”
Izuku stops walking, Kacchan being abruptly yanked backwards by his hand still on his wrist. Kacchan snaps his head back at him, likely a bit surprised by Izuku’s sudden strength.
Izuku has to look at the other boy for a moment, trying to make it make sense. Kacchan is acting… strange. Where is the anger? The yelling? The undeniable hatred that’s been aimed at him since his diagnosis?
Looking at him now, all he can see is genuine concern and worry. Maybe even a little regret. It’s almost like he has his childhood friend back. Almost. Izuku knows that’s too good to be true.
Within his chest, Kacchan’s aura burns with a brilliant orange flame, powerful and passionate, just like he thought it would be. But there’s a dark cloud of… something at the center. It churns like a dark storm. He can’t read it. Or maybe he doesn’t want to.
Because all he can focus on are the dark rifts and tears that mar its bright surface, scars left in pain and anger. Scars left by Izuku. No. Izuku knows this is too good to be true.
Kacchan will never be whole again. And it’s all Izuku’s fault.
“I can’t.”
“The fuck do you mean you can’t! What the hell’s stopping you!”
“I just can’t!” Izuku screams, his breaths coming too fast and ragged. He can’t stop the memories filling his mind again, of seeing his aura for the first time, singing its terrible, shrill song as it tears into Kacchan’s, or of a shadow creeping its way through a hospital window, his hero lying on the ground as blood pours out of the gaping wound on his shoulder. No, it’s not safe. This isn’t safe.
A squeeze on his wrist brings Izuku back to reality, and he looks up to see Kacchan’s face shadowed with concern.
Kacchan looks away, his grip still firm on his wrist. “Look, I’m… I’m sorry I yelled, okay? It’s just that… I thought you were dead.”
Izuku pauses, shock settling into his bones like a cold shower. Kacchan is… apologizing?
It just doesn’t make sense. That’s not something Kacchan did even when they were friends.
“W-what?”
Kacchan scoffs, “I’m sorry, okay! I shouldn’t have yelled!”
Izuku just stares at him, dumbfounded, before cupping his hand over his mouth, an uncontrollable bout of giggles escaping his throat.
“Oi, what the hell are you laughing for! I’m serious!”
“S-sorry, it’s just,” Izuku says, having to hold back more giggles just to speak, “you really have changed a lot, haven’t you?”
Kacchan falls silent as Izuku struggles to contain his dying laughter. Kacchan’s hand is still on his wrist, an uncharacteristic look of concern still etched into his features.
“You know… I-we can help you. You don’t have to go back to… wherever it is you’ve been hiding.”
“Kacchan… it’s more complicated than that—”
“So what! Why can’t you just come with me?”
“Because… I would only put you in danger.”Izuku tilts his head up then, locking eyes with the ash blonde teen.
Katsuki’s eyes immediately go wide, filled with awe, and maybe even a little fear. Izuku knows what he’s seeing. He’s seen that face on many people by now.
Kacchan is seeing what he really is under this cracked, human shell of his. The monster he is in all its glory. His aura.
There’s an old saying, that the eyes are like windows to the soul. And just like a window, all of his power, as old and violent as it is, shows right through them.
Kacchan jolts, letting go of his wrist in the process, and Izuku feels tears start to gather in his eyes. He wishes he could go. He really, really does. He wishes he could go home to his mom and be held in her arms one more time. They could bake cookies and watch old hero documentaries wrapped up in blankets on the couch with Dad and Kuro, just like they used to.
But he can’t. His mom is gone, and it’s all his fault. He’s already hurt Kacchan enough, and they have already proven that they would hurt people just to get to him. It would only be a matter of time before something bad happens to Kacchan too.
So Izuku lets go.
Izuku’s form becomes transparent, glowing ever so slightly around the edges with a calm, white light. He can hear whispers singing to him, calling him to somewhere far, far away. He sinks into that feeling, letting them guide him as his body drifts farther and farther from the physical world and into the next one, becoming more transparent with every breath he takes.
Kacchan reaches for his wrist again, but his eyes widen as his hand goes right through it. He looks up again in pure confusion.
“Kacchan… for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
And then Izuku is gone, vanishing like a ghost on the wind.
“Fuck.”