Chapter Text
???? 2032 ??:?? HOURS
LOCATION: ????
It is like thunder.
Midoriya knows thunder; he knows the distant rumbles and the flickering of lightning, lonely and terrible as it wander across the sky, lulling him to sleep. He knows it close; just outside his window, the clouds dragging their heavy burden along and spilling it over the town, over his window in countless droplets that sing against the glass. He knows flinching at the branches of pure electricity, splitting the sky and flashing purple and blue and green behind his eyelids when he closes them. He knows his mother, pulling him from the window just as the thunder snarls.
Midoriya knows thunder, but he has never been afraid of thunder before today.
His mother is small, even smaller when surrounded by the mass of people shivering and huddled together, frightened rabbits in a warren. She wraps herself around him, even though he is taller than her by now and he has to hunch to accommodate her protective instinct. It doesn’t matter. Midoriya doesn’t feel the pain of crouching. All he knows are the whites of the eyes in the people around him and the dangerous sifting of sand from the ceiling.
Midoriya thinks, I don’t want to die without seeing the sun.
Rain and nighttime combined are the worst conditions for Jaegers. Didn’t he read that somewhere? Or hear it on the television? Why can’t he remember?
They’re inland, so why couldn’t the Jaegers hold the ten-mile line? They had ten miles to resist the kaiju but hadn’t the emergency broadcast said something about a double event? Impossible—double events happened in Los Angeles. In Cairns. Not in Japan. Not in Yokohama.
“It would be nice to live by the ocean,” his mother had said. “I would feel closer to…him.”
“It’s dangerous, Mom,” Midoriya had told her, but he understood. She still woke him up crying every time he came to visit. It hurt him so much, seeing her like that. Alone. He had to stay. He never really had time to grieve his father, but she did better with the fresh air blowing in from the coast, and that was what really mattered anyway.
“There’s a PPDC base in Yokohama,” Midoriya had said. “We’d be safe there. No kaiju has gotten past them.”
“Where are the Jaegers?” a frightened father whispers, wrapping his arms around three children. “Where are they?”
It’s not a kaiju, Midoriya thinks. It’s not a kaiju. It’s a Jaeger. It’s one of the Rangers.
(But you can always feel that dark creeping horrordreadgoosebumpfear of knowing.)
The concrete ceiling of the bunker doesn’t look as thick as it did when they first shoved their way in there. The people shrink back, frightened into silence, flattening themselves against the ground as if they could disappear into the floor of the bunker and melt through the earth’s crust and into magma, hide from the alien reality they lived in.
No one prays, or if they do, it is silent. No god would dare to speak in the air so still and stale when all the humans are holding their breaths.
When the concrete shattered inwards, crushing several people instantly, Midoriya doesn’t run. The blast forces him to stumble back a few steps, but his legs are stiff rods of lead. His mother is pulled from him in the throng of people fleeing the night air. Rain does not fall into the hole in the ceiling but rather drips in fat, slow drops.
Midoriya knows the street above. There’s a little café on the street with a view straight down to the ocean that he took his first girlfriend on their third or fourth date. The pastries were dry but the coffee was good. He waves to the owner of the bike repair shop because he works with the man’s son at his part-time job. In summer, the pounding sunlight on the pavement makes heat waves rise from the ground and in winter, it is his favorite street to walk along.
But in this moment, that street and this city are as alien to him as the creature lowers its eye to peer inside the hole. Midoriya registers, distantly, that he is the welcoming party. Everyone else has receded into the shadows of the bunker, stranger pressed against stranger, clinging to the walls like they would save them. Midoriya is the only one with water dripping over him from the kaiju’s head.
A drop splashes his lip. Salt water.
The kaiju’s eye has two pupils, side by side. They are both round as black holes, sucking all the fight and fear from Midoriya’s body until he is left a hollow, shivering shell of a man—no, no, he is boy under the eyes of this god. Its pupils constrict to two slits wreathed in orange-gold, a far cry from the impossibly bright blue of all the kaiju Midoriya had ever seen.
(Double-slit, yellow-orange, caution tape spinning and lights flashing danger danger stay away, this one is not like the others, this one is special.)
It retracts its eye only to open its mouth.
Midoriya watches death curl towards him in the form of a fluorescent tongue, opening like an exotic flower in greens and pinks and blues. He waits for it to wrap around his body and pull him into the gullet of the god, but it does not. The tongue caresses the front of his body like a lover, and it doesn’t even hurt when the rough skin of the tongue shreds his shirt and cuts up his chest. The tongue retracts and there’s the distant pounding of a Jaeger over the ground and the kaiju is gone—not into the city but into the sea. Down, down to the Breach where it slithers home, an anomaly among the behavior human beings thought they knew so well.
And then Midoriya is dying again.
Skin burns and turns blue, flakes off. Blood runs down his chest from wounds that never close. He is being flown from hospital to hospital, country to country. His mother. Where is his mother? No, no, go under the knife Midoriya Izuku, we can save you (we might save you). Failure. Failure. Failure.
There’s no time to hold his mother and comfort her when he’s dying. They tell him two weeks; they tell him two years. Midoriya doesn’t care—he’s already dead, he just wants his mother. He wants to tell her sorry for letting her down. He wants to say sorry for leaving her alone. He wants to say—
“Hello, Midoriya-san,” Aizawa Shouta says. “I can save you. But to do it, I will have to kill you.”
A research center. Where? Military uniforms, then white. Everything is white, except his skin, which is blue. Are you ready? Yes, Midoriya is ready to die.
He does not die. He feels every cell of his body down to the nucleus burn alive under the radiation. He is screaming, maybe, but the pain drowns out any other sensation. And then his skin is bubbling and boiling and he’s rising like a phoenix and his screams turn to roars—
MARCH 15, 2035 2:35 HOURS
LOCATION: APOLLO PACK QUARTERS, MUSUTAFU BASE, JAPAN
Midoriya is out of his bed and across the room before he even registers the heaving of his chest and the sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. Consciousness comes to him in stages—first, the awareness of his body, how he’s trembling and the sweat coating him like the ocean water when the kaiju had—nggg, no, no he can’t slip back into that trance, he’s here in the present. He’s in his room.
His room, this rusted, bolted box. A cage. Not dark metal but shiny, blinding white and a single dark window, for them to observe. Keep him in, burn his body to the point of searing agony, let the radiation flay him alive, haha, hope that mutation takes hold, hope you end up a monster or you’ll be dead—
Midoriya needs to get out. It’s still Artemis shift and he can feel his packmates stirring, reacting to his fear even without the hivemind active, the sensation of being one and all at the same time lingering like the Jaeger pilots’ Ghost Drift. He curses. Midoriya wrenches open the door to his room, storms through the common room and out that door, too. The main hallway is buzzing with activity (was it a test run for the Artemis pack today?) and Midoriya lets the sensation of other human beings moving around, living and breathing, ground him. He is not twenty-two anymore. He is twenty-five and somehow, he is alive.
Despite removing himself from their sleeping quarters, Tsuyu finds him. She’s rubbing her too-wide eyes and licking her lips with a too-long tongue. He should have known. He feels bad for waking her, but it was kind of a rank-sibling thing. Flanks always felt other flanks more intensely.
“Izuku,” she says, voice groggy. “You had that nightmare again.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry to wake you.”
She waves a hand. “Fine. It’s only…” She looks up to the clock high up on the wall. “…Two-thirty seven. In the morning.” She rubs her eyes again.
“…Sorry,” Midoriya says again, guilt slipping into his voice.
“That was your First Contact, right?” Tsuyu says. “First Contact is terrifying for everyone; we understand. You’ll get past it.”
She says that mostly out of sympathy. Like the test-tube babies, Tsuyu never had a First Contact. She fell into a kaiju blue spill. Kaiju blue is toxic to humans, two weeks to live, I can save you, but first you have to die, blah blah blah. Welcome to the life of a military guard dog. She knew the pain of radiation, but she couldn’t know first-hand how gut-wrenching it had been to feel the kaiju’s gaze upon Midoriya, the touch of its tongue, the horror that crept up on him in the night knowing it was still out there—
Tsuyu pats him on the cheek, not quite a slap, but enough to snap him out of it. “Izuku,” she says, louder. “You’re projecting again.”
Midoriya winces. If she could feel it, then…yep, he feels along the link and the rest of his packmates are awake. Mina’s mostly confused, as she usually is at Midoriya’s nightmares. Despite a link in their minds, she can’t really process his fear. He’s not sure she even knows how to feel fear. The thought makes him roll his eyes. Test tube babies.
Kouda is too far away for Midoriya to feel. A part of Midoriya wishes he wasn’t. Kouda would understand First Contact, but it’s more important that he’s separated from them and the faux hivemind.
Todoroki wakes up last. His mind is stormy and swirling, dominating the link and drowning their Ghost Drift in shadow. When he comes to, his emotions and swirling half-thoughts ring out clearer than the rest of their pack. He is a glacier—slow-moving and unstoppable.
Also reasonably pissed-off about being woken up three-and-a-half hours before Apollo shift started.
Tsuyu takes his arm, guides him back into the common room to face the doom that is Todoroki Shouto. Midoriya sighs and submits to his fate.
“Womber,” Mina mutters as Midoriya and Tsuyu walk back in the door. It’s meant in jest, not a true insult to Midoriya’s method of conception, like it would coming from Bakugou.
“Tuber,” Midoriya retorts, sticking his tongue out at her. Mina sticks her tongue right back out at him.
“Midoriya,” Todoroki says, instantly killing the playful mood of the room. “Do you need to see a psych analyst?” Everyone stares at Todoroki, then at Midoriya.
Oh, shit. “No!” Midoriya says, waving his hands in the air. “It’s nothing that bad, not at all!”
“Are you sure?” Todoroki asks. There’s no threat in his voice. No concern, either. “This is the…” He pauses. “…Sixth time you’ve had this specific nightmare in the past three months.” Mina yawns for emphasis.
Midoriya drops his hands, shoulders sinking a little. “It’s not…” he starts, but doesn’t know what to say. It’s not that bad? He woke up without knowing where he was and proceeded to almost have a panic attack. Todoroki makes a good point. He probably should see a psychologist, but what could they even do? Wow, I’m so sorry a kaiju almost killed you but instead infected you with its saliva that slowly began to mutate and destroy your body when the government stepped in and to save your life accelerated the rate of the mutation until the kaiju genes combined with yours and forced you to become a shapeshifting megaton monster? Also you definitely have PTSD from war but seem to be focusing on this instead?
Yeah. Midoriya didn’t want to hear it.
As if reading his mind (oh, wait, he could actually do that, at least a little), Todoroki sighs. “What about talking to Kirishima? Does he have the same nightmares?” He doesn’t mention Kouda.
“I don’t know,” Midoriya says, sighing. “I imagine Bakugou would have stomped out any disruptive behavior in Artemis pack, especially if it disturbed his sleep. Even if Kirishima did have nightmares, it’d be in the best interest of his survival to squash them.”
Todoroki gives him a look. Midoriya doesn’t need to be close to his mind to know Todoroki’s thinking something along the lines of ‘like fuck I’m going to follow Bakugou’s example.’ Mina and Tsuyu grin. Midoriya lets out a long exhale.
“I’ll talk to Eijirou,” Midoriya promises, offering Todoroki a grateful smile.
Todoroki takes his offering with a long blink and a yawn of his own. It’s a dismissal if Midoriya’s ever seen one. Mina hops up off the couch and heads back to bed, too much pep in her step for someone who had been woken up at 2 A.M.
“I only want us to be fully functional,” Todoroki says. “Interrupted sleep and poor sleep due to night terrors are not conducive to a functioning unit.” He frowns. “I don’t mean to pick on you, but…”
But no one else has nightmares. Right. Test-tube baby, test-tube baby, kaiju blue spill, and whatever the hell Mina was. Some top-secret classified bullshit. “Hey, if I can take down a Category Three on my own, I can definitely take on some bad dreams,” Midoriya says, forcing a smile. Todoroki is too tired to call him on his bullshit and nods, turning back to his bedroom.
“It’s not coming back,” Tsuyu says, because she always knows the right thing to say when she’s fully awake. “Even with the returning kaiju, that one hasn’t been seen for three years. He’s gone, Izuku.” She rubs shoulders with him. Midoriya feels the physical touch and the ghostly feeling of their kaiju forms brushing shoulders, the memory of the two of them tearing through the training bay side by side rising to the surface of the shadow hivemind. There was just something about sharing ranks—as both flanks and packmates, Tsuyu and Midoriya got each other.
“I hope you’re right,” Midoriya says.
“Besides,” Tsuyu adds, “if it shows up again, right now that’s Artemis pack’s problem, not ours.”
Midoriya laughs aloud at that. He bids Tsuyu goodnight with another brush of their shoulders, feeling warmer and safer despite the crabbiness of his packmates. When he had First Contact with the unnamed, very first ‘return’ kaiju, he had been utterly alone. No real friends, only his mom as far as family went, and alone in his head. Now it’s different.
Now he has the entire Pan Pacific Defense Corps at his back. He has Musutafu Base at his back. He has the Hybrid Strike Corps. He has LOCCENT and K-Scientists and J-Technicians. And most importantly, he has Apollo pack. He’s not alone in his head anymore.
Midoriya closes his eyes and leans back in his bed, mind feathering out to brush against his packmates’ minds. Mina is already fast asleep, content and smooth as a harbor’s flat water, a startling contrast to the high-speed, incessant and overwhelming chatter of her mind when she’s awake. Tsuyu is falling asleep, reacting to his mind’s pressure by returning it, the most familiar and easiest of minds to read and understand.
Midoriya reaches for Todoroki last. Todoroki’s mind is the hardest to read of their pack. Tsuyu is no trouble. She’s a flank and a womber, even given the strange circumstance of her First Contact. Mina is a pain, but not difficult either. She’s the rear guard of their pack, their strike team, along with Kouda. She’s below Midoriya in rank and acquiesces to his mind’s touch easily. Kouda is much the same, when he’s with them.
Todoroki is a point.
He’s the alpha of their pack, the one who makes all the calls and leads them both on the battlefield and in their daily life. If Todoroki had told Midoriya to see a psych analyst, Midoriya would have seen a psych analyst. He has to trust Todoroki. He has to. They’re no different than the Rangers that way. They have to trust their pack to form a cohesive, kaiju-hunting unit. They have to trust their point to think calmly and without bias.
Todoroki’s mind doesn’t give to Midoriya’s. He has to be able to resist the pressure of his pack’s four additional minds pressing him for guidance in the heat of battle; when they’re close to sleep and it’s just Midoriya, he doesn’t stand a chance. But Midoriya is comforted by Todoroki’s strength. He has the power to lead without tyranny, nothing like Bakugou. Midoriya likes to fall asleep like that, wrapping himself in the thrumming, warm strength of Todoroki’s aura and the synchronized breathing of his packmates.
It’s better than being alone.
------------------------
MARCH 15, 2035 6:04 HOURS
LOCATION: SHATTERDOME, MUSUTAFU BASE, JAPAN
Of course, sometimes Midoriya wishes he had some privacy.
Kirishima announces his presence by slamming into Midoriya both physically and mentally. “Hey, Izuku!” he chirps. “Ready to get poked and prodded by Research & Development? Blood samples and radiation monitoring and shapeshifting stress tests up the wazoo! If we’re lucky, maybe they’ll let us run on kaiju-size hamster wheels.”
Yep, Artemis pack sure did do a test run on their shift. Kirishima is broadcasting loud and clear across the Ghost Drift, which means they were in the hivemind earlier. What should only have been faint impressions of color and emotion at the back of Midoriya’s mind is all neon red! guitar solo! Excitedproudhappycontentfamilypackpackpack!
“Eijirou, dude,” Midoriya says, wincing. “Could you like, turn down your…brain?”
“Whoops,” Kirishima says. “Sorry ‘bout that.” The excruciating bursts of color and sound and emotion die down to a low boil.
“What was that about Research & Development?” Midoriya asks.
“It’s Alpha Strain’s turn,” Kirishima says. “Gotta see the good doctor Aizawa-sensei.”
Midoriya groans. Just his luck, Artemis pack got to go for a run and Apollo pack would be stuck doing god knows what while Midoriya and Todoroki are, like Kirishima said, poked and prodded like lab rats.
Midoriya frowns. “Wait, but that means—oh no, are you guys pulling a double shift?”
Midoriya gets the answer in the form of Bakugou’s suffocating rage, drowning out all other messages across the Ghost Drift with die die die gonna kill that bedhead scientist. Bakugou’s on the warpath, marching across the Shatterdome at breakneck pace, shouldering mechanics and J-Techs aside. Midoriya can practically hear Bakugou’s teeth grinding from thirty meters away.
“Sucks to be Artemis pack!” Mina calls out, because she has no sense of self-preservation.
Bakugou’s anger intensifies and focuses in on Mina, joined by the irritation of the rest of the hybrids as the Ghost Drift is swamped with even more emotion. Todoroki rubs his temples. Tokoyami and Ojiro follow Bakugou at a distance, their faces scrunched up in pain. Tsuyu smacks Mina in the cheek with her tongue.
“Fuckin’ had to be Alpha Strain,” Bakugou snaps. “Isn’t it Omega Strain’s turn?”
“Yeah,” Kirishima says. “But some of the top brass has flown in specifically to see, and I quote, ‘the potential danger to international security.’” He makes air quotes with his fingers and rolls his eyes. “It probably would be in bad taste to show them Mezou and Kouji.”
“What’s wrong with Beta Strain?” Mina says, pouting. “We look human, too!”
Bakugou gestures broadly, in the direction of the Research & Development division. “You wanna go argue with them? Be my guest, honey. Make my fucking day.”
“No point in arguing,” Todoroki says. “The sooner we get in, the sooner we get out and Bakugou and Kirishima can go to sleep.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Kirishima agrees, cutting off Bakugou’s retort. “’Sides, as soon as we get our next kaiju attack we have a few vacation days!”
“Don’t cut off your point, fuckass!” Bakugou snaps, reaching for Kirishima’s head, presumably to beat him against a wall. Kirishima dodges, laughing.
Midoriya watches them go for a moment as the Ghost Drift clears up. Kirishima was good for blowing off Bakugou’s steam and blatantly ignoring his authority as Artemis pack’s point. Honestly, they’d probably have killed Bakugou by now if Kirishima didn’t keep him in check. As such, Todoroki doesn’t have to call for Midoriya aloud. Midoriya feels Todoroki’s impression of him, too faint to make out words clearly, but emerald and bright and sparking. It’s…it’s a flattering impression. Midoriya flanks Todoroki, falling comfortably into step behind him.
“Dibs on shapeshifting stress tests,” Todoroki says.
And Mina said he couldn’t tell jokes. “Not a chance,” Midoriya says, grinning. “You’re a big, scary Category Five. How’re we going to convince them we’re not a threat if we show them the big guns? Better a smaller, safer one like—”
“Like you?” Todoroki says, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, since you so kindly suggested it, yes me,” Midoriya says, clasping his hands behind his back.
Todoroki reaches out to ruffle his hair. He’s just a little on the rough side with Midoriya for his cheekiness, but he’s smiling a little, too. The link between them is warm sunlight, relaxed and amicable. It was best to be in good humor when going to see Research & Development anyway. They were the ones waving the big needles and the radiation emitters, after all. Probably smart to get on their good side.
Of course, with Bakugou in the mix, it was sure to be a shitshow.
“Maybe they’ll court martial him this time,” Todoroki suggests, reading Midoriya’s mental impressions of boom and roar pretty easily. “He did technically assault a military commander. Can’t you get executed for that?”
“Yeah,” Midoriya says. “Except if they use a firing squad on him, he’ll probably shift on the spot and Shiro will spit the bullet back out at them.”
“Hmm,” Todoroki says. “Lethal injection?”
“I had kaiju saliva in my body,” Midoriya says. “Pretty sure that’s more deadly. His cells will mutate.”
“Hanging?”
“Again, Shiro.”
“Electric chair?”
“I don’t think that’s legal, Todoroki.”
“Come to think of it,” Todoroki says, “we don’t actually know if he would shift once shot or anything like that. It’s only the radiation that’s done it for us so far.”
“And they’re probably loath to point a gun at their multibillion-yen biological weapons,” Midoriya says. “Still, if I had to pick one…” They look back at Bakugou.
Bakugou perks up immediately from where he’s got Kirishima in a chokehold, turning purple in the face and smacking Bakugou’s arm. “I heard that, you bastards!” he snarls. “When I’m done here I’m going to punch your shit-eating grins so far back into your heads that your kaiju won’t be able to mutate in time to prevent your teeth sinking into your brains!”
Midoriya blinks. “Points for creativity,” he says. Todoroki exhales lightly, almost a laugh.
It’s easy to tell when the base shifts from military to pure science. The rusted metal walls are replaced with concrete eventually blending into white tile. Midoriya would call it sterile if there wasn’t so much dirt and dust caked into every nook and cranny of the base. It smells like a hospital and faintly of bleach. Every single memory the hybrids have of this place usually involve intense physical discomfort. Midoriya can count on two fingers the reasons why he would voluntarily come to Research & Development’s department, and they’re both walking towards him.
“Izuku!” Uraraka cries, running up to him and magically staying balanced in her heels. She wraps him in a warm hug immediately, hair tickling his nose.
“Midoriya-kun,” Iida greets more formally with a nod. “Todoroki-kun.” He shakes Todoroki’s hand. He looks around them and upon finding nothing, he frowns. “May I inquire as to where Kirishima-kun and Bakugou-kun are?”
“Fighting,” Todoroki grunts. “They’ll be here.”
“How are you?” Uraraka says to Midoriya. “How’s Deku?” She grabs him by the face and stares into his eyes as if she could determine the status of Midoriya’s kaiju simply by staring into his soul.
“He’s, er, good?” Midoriya says. “He’s me, you know. We feel the same things.”
“Of course, of course,” Uraraka says in the tone of voice that says ah yes, I’m thinking science thoughts that will go over Izuku’s head. Midoriya makes a face and she grins. “Oh please, Izuku,” she says. “Are you going to tell me how to do my job now? Your kaiju needs—”
“Special love and attention, I know, I know,” Midoriya says, sighing. “I just wish you’d be excited to see me sometimes, not just him.”
“Come have coffee with me some time, then,” Uraraka suggests. “You’re always welcome here.” Midoriya’s ear tips burn at the suggestion.
Iida clears his throat.
“Sorry,” Midoriya says quickly. “I’m holding matters up, aren’t I? It’s really good to see you too, Iida.”
“We must wait for the other two anyway,” Iida says. He clears his throat again. “I, also, would not be opposed to sharing a coffee and conversation with you, Midoriya-kun.”
Uraraka grins harder and slugs Iida in the shoulder. “Oh come on,” she says, laughing. “Just admit that you’re jealous of our beautiful love and want to make it a threesome.”
“A th-th—” Iida sputters.
“What Uraraka means,” Midoriya interrupts, “is that you’re always welcome to join us. In fact, we’d love to have you.”
Midoriya wants to say more, but the shadow of the hivemind crackles with energy. He and Todoroki tilt their heads to the side at the exact same time.
“Incoming,” Todoroki says.
“It’s so amazing how they do that,” Uraraka whispers to Iida.
Midoriya and Todoroki feel Bakugou and Kirishima before they hear them, but their arguing isn’t far behind. Kirishima’s boisterous laugh drowns out Bakugou’s snarls. Bakugou is the white-hot bursting of explosions and projecting grrr grrr idiot flank stupid stupid (content no no angry). Kirishima is the wind through a pile of autumn leaves, light and playful and projecting nothing but pure puppy love at Bakugou.
Midoriya groans. “Can we please go ahead of them? Kirishima is being gross.”
“Oh, but—” Uraraka says.
“With pleasure,” Iida says dryly, cutting her off. Midoriya grins. Sometimes Iida’s Apollo pack bias really came in handy.
Uraraka and Iida lead Midoriya and Todoroki through the hallways, past K-Science labs of increasing security clearance. Researchers in lab coats and latex gloves move around chunks of kaiju flesh and blood samples, most blue, but some red. They reach the massive blast doors and Uraraka lifts her badge to scan, then presses her fingerprint to that scanner, and then peers into the retinal scanner.
Welcome, Uraraka Ochako, the flat voice of the computer says. Security level Beta acknowledged. Identify party.
“Dr. Iida Tenya, Hybrid Functionality Analyst and Researcher,” Uraraka says. “Special Officers Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki, and Kirishima Eijirou of the Hybrid Strike Corps.”
The security camera turns its red eye over each of the party members, Bakugou and Kirishima joining them. Party identified, the computer says. Access granted. Please stand back while the blast doors open.
The massive vault-looking door of steel-titanium alloy makes a rumbling sound as the lock is released and then slowly swings open, revealing a thickness of almost a foot-and-a-half of metal meant to keep out or hold in, usually depending on whether or not one of the hybrids was in kaiju form. The group step through the door and under the watchful eye of a couple machine gun sentries attached to the ceiling.
The Hybrid Lab, also known as ‘the Science Shatterdome’ because of its size, was a mecca for K-Science researchers and the latest technology. One of the benefits of being associated with the PPDC—Aizawa and his staff got all the best toys. The Hybrid Lab was split into two sections divided by a suspended walkway that also served as the entryway into the lab. The ‘human science’ half was filled with human-sized labs, machines, and monitoring devices to observe the hybrids in their human form as well as a radiation monitoring chamber. The ‘kaiju science’ half consisted of the same labs, machines, and monitors but in macro—motorized lifts and cranes and medical equipment that took several men or a machine to move, complete with four massive bays at the rear of the lab, large enough to comfortably accommodate Kouda, the largest of the Category Fives.
But more importantly, ahead of them on the walkway, Aizawa stood with his hands shoved into his pockets and flanked by a handful of military men and another handful of men in suits. Aizawa’s doing that thousand-yard stare that says if you threaten me with tighter regulations one more time, I will sic my kaiju dogs on you. No, I do not care about how much of your country’s budget it will take to support this project. We’re the ones saving the world here.
“Kids,” Aizawa says. “You took your sweet time.” Curiously, he has a translator behind him, repeating his words.
Midoriya has only a moment to consider this fact before he gets an elbow to the gut. “Out of my way,” Bakugou snaps, shoving his way to the front of the group. When he gets there, his eyes lock on to Aizawa. “Sensei! The fuck is all this about? It’s Omega Strain’s turn!”
“You get to show off, Bakugou,” Aizawa says, ignoring the shifting behind him at Bakugou’s foul mouth. “I thought you would have volunteered.”
“You know what time it is?” Bakugou says. “It’s Apollo shift. I’m supposed to be in bed, counting sheep until I pass the fuck out, not letting your shithead technicians take out eight hundred liters of my blood and megane over there probe me with questions until I bleed out my ears! We’re tired, dammit!”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Aizawa says. “Would you rather I have pulled Beta Strain out?”
“Fuck no!” Bakugou roars. “Birdbrain and that tail asshole are Beta Strain! You trying to kill my pack with exhaustion, bastard? What do you think the Artemis-Apollo shift schedule was developed for?”
“Dr. Aizawa,” a particularly nervous looking man in a suit says in English. “Do you usually let your subordinates speak to you in such a way?”
“The fuck’d you say?” Bakugou says.
“Um, Bakugou, maybe you shouldn’t—” Kirishima says.
“Just this one,” Aizawa says. “Couldn’t stop him even if I knew how.”
“You got a problem with me?” Bakugou says, taking a threatening step towards the man. Immediately, the other suits step in front of him and draw their handguns, pointing them at Bakugou, who flips them the bird.
“Bakugou,” Aizawa says, sighing. “Everyone, allow me to introduce the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and Commanders Matsumoto and Nakamura from Tokyo. Bakugou, congratulations—you’ve threatened yet another world leader.”
Midoriya smacks himself in the face. Uraraka and Iida sigh in unison. Todoroki glances at Kirishima, who shrugs back at him in a ‘what can you do’ gesture. The military men exchange glance and mouth ‘another one?’
“Whoa there,” Aizawa says, standing in front of the suits with guns, hands raised placatingly. “Let’s not point weapons at these kids, they’re expensive. As far as impressions go, Bakugou’s bad all the way through. Don’t worry, though, his bark is worse—actually, I’d say his bite is equal to if not worse than his bark. Probably not the best idiom to use.”
The Prime Minister pales.
“Anyway,” Aizawa says. “He’s the only animal, I promise. The rest of our soldiers are well-behaved. These are Special Officers Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Todoroki Shouto, and Midoriya Izuku. And of course, my personal assistants and the directors of the Research & Development department of the Musutafu Base, Uraraka Ochako and Iida Tenya.” All of the assembled except Bakugou bow as they’re introduced.
“It is an honor,” Iida says in flawless English.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Uraraka says, clapping her hands together.
“This will be a routine check-up for you guys,” Aizawa says. “Our guests will be here through two rounds of tests just to get a feel for what we do here. Midoriya, you’ll be doing the shift stress test first.”
Midoriya can’t help it—he projects the emotional equivalent of a fist bump into the hivemind. Kirishima and Bakugou only get faint impressions, but Todoroki feels it and cuffs Midoriya’s ear lightly.
“We’ll go on ahead then,” Iida says, nodding to their esteemed guests and leading Uraraka on.
Aizawa nods to them and claps his hands together. “Alright,” he says. “Today, I’ve pulled our Alpha Strain hybrids out as a demonstration of what our Hybrid Strike Corps is capable of. I’ll introduce you to the hybrids as organisms, to start out with. Kirishima, if you would.”
Aizawa waves Kirishima forward and he steps out, grinning with too-sharp teeth when the Prime Minister and military commanders look at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Kirishima’s right eye is marred by a slash running from his forehead to his jaw. But it’s not his milky, glazed over eye that unnerve them. It’s the fact that the scarred skin has mutated into the thick, ruddy hide of Kirishima’s kaiju—a physical reminder that he’s inhuman.
“Kirishima is a natural hybrid,” Aizawa says. “He was born a human and had a First Contact where some kaiju cells were introduced into his body, infecting him and rotting his body from the inside out until we treated him. All of our hybrids save Bakugou have some kind of kaiju mark identifying them as hybrids, although Bakugou’s attitude is enough of an indication. Alpha Strain just happen to be the most human.”
“Then there are ones not born human?” Nakamura asks. His head is tilted to the side and expression neutral, as opposed to Matsumoto’s lip curl of revulsion.
“Yes,” Aizawa says. “We have three natural hybrids, four engineered hybrids, and two classified hybrids.”
“Classified?” the Prime Minister says, frowning. “I don’t understand. Who has access to these files?”
“Me, Todoroki-sensei, and the PPDC executives,” Aizawa says. He smiles wryly. “Of course, the world leaders who support us publicly and financially may request the files as well.”
The Prime Minister purses his lips.
“As I was saying,” Aizawa says. “Engineered hybrids are grown from donor embryos. They don’t have a First Contact—the kaiju cells are introduced to their genome before they’re even born. Todoroki Enji was the one to perfect that process.” The last sentence is a grudging mutter, a few distasteful words for a wealth of research and funding.
“This is very interesting,” Matsumoto says, clearly not interested, “but we aren’t concerned with the hybrids’ biology. We want to make sure they aren’t going to turn on our men the moment they turn into kaiju and destroy like every other kaiju we’ve encountered. We want to know how you control them.”
Midoriya catches Todoroki rolling his eyes. Well, this was to be expected. Every time some big fancy officials with the kind of medals decorating Matsumoto’s chest came along, they seemed to forget that Midoriya and the other hybrids were sentient beings. It was like they thought the hybrids lost all conscious thought and turned into killing machines that needed to be herded towards their target and then subdued as soon as they finished the job.
Aizawa’s frown says he’s thinking the same thing. “Luckily,” Aizawa says, “our officers are sentient and can comprehend human speech and orders in their kaiju forms. So your worries about ‘controlling’ them are unfounded. They’re just soldiers, commander. Unfortunately for publicity, they happen to look like the same monsters we’re trying to kill.”
“But—” he says.
“Yes, alright,” Aizawa says. He brushes his hair back and sighs. “We’ve developed a system for organizing them into fighting units. Officers? Identification.”
“Kirishima Eijirou, Artemis flank alpha,” Kirishima says.
“Bakugou Katsuki, Artemis point alpha,” Bakugou says.
“Todoroki Shouto, Apollo point alpha,” Todoroki says.
“Midoriya Izuku, Apollo flank alpha,” Midoriya says.
“Good,” Aizawa says. To their guests, he says, “They each have a unique set of pack, rank, and strain identifiers. No one is the same.”
He leans against the railing. “We figured out pretty early on that while the kaiju are very good at taking orders, they’re not so good at working together. Neither are humans, not consistently at least. In order to ensure a pecking order and cohesion between units, we added gray wolf genes to the DNA cesspool of our hybrids. The kaiju genes accept and incorporate alien genetics, so it was pretty easy for us to insert them. As such, they have a pack structure.”
Aizawa points at Bakugou and Todoroki. “Bakugou leads Artemis pack; he’s a point. Kirishima is his flank, along with Tokoyami, who is not here right now. They also have two rear guards for a total of five hybrids per pack. Todoroki leads Apollo pack as their point. Think of the point as the alpha of the pack and the flanks as the betas. We could theoretically add more to the rear guard or introduce new ranks, but as it stands, they’ve been pretty effective.
“As far as strains go, that’s just our categorization of their efficiency in shifting,” Aizawa says. “Alpha Strain are the best and cleanest of shifting, ergo, very human-looking. Beta Strain are mostly or vaguely human, but also very inhuman. Omega Strain don’t shift back.”
Sensei! Uraraka says over the intercom. We’re ready to begin the check-up.
“Good timing, Uraraka,” Aizawa says. “Alright, Midoriya with me. Bakugou, you’re going to radiation monitoring. No, I don’t care if you hate it; you’re going. Kirishima, physical fitness. Todoroki, blood tests.”
They break off, so used to the routine of check-up that moving about the Hybrid Lab is second nature to them. Only Bakugou drags his feet, not eager to get stuffed into a radiation chamber and monitored for a couple hours. Kirishima trots away, light on his feet even after hours and hours in shift. He usually spent a couple hours in the gym after Artemis shift, so it wasn’t like he was troubled running and lifting weights for them. Todoroki is lucky enough to have vials of his blood drawn with the big needles, but his mind betrays nothing but the boredom of routine.
Midoriya sticks with Aizawa. He can feel the Prime Minister looking him over, obviously searching for some indication that Midoriya wasn’t human. Unlike Todoroki or Kirishima’s, his wasn’t very obvious until you got close. Midoriya makes it easy for him and meets his eyes.
The Prime Minister stumbles a bit, and Midoriya has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He shouldn’t be so cruel—anyone would be shocked to look into the eyes of a human and see impossibly green kaiju eyes staring back at them.
Aizawa leads their group to one of the bays at the back of the lab. The bays scrape the top of the Hybrid Lab, metal walls and a massive moving glass wall that had cost the base an arm and a leg to manufacture. And that didn’t even include all the special tech that had to be attached to it. Iida is already at the bays, leaning over the stress test technician and checking his calibrations of the pulse cannons and the faux hivemind. Midoriya and Iida exchange smiles as Midoriya heads through the door and into the hallway between the bays. From there, it’s just one more door into the bay and then he’s a speck of a man in the massive metal cage.
At times like these, Midoriya really does feel like a lab rat in a case, just waiting to be experimented on (oh wait, ha, that’d already happened) under the watchful eye of the researchers and the ogling of the spectators. He tries to imagine Todoroki standing in here, just a man, and then with the right amount of stress induced, bam! Monster. The wonders of science, and all that.
He doesn’t particularly fancy stripping to his underwear in front of the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, but oh well. He tosses his clothes close to the door and walks to the center of the bay. He crosses his arms over his chest self-consciously, trying to cover up the white scars that dotted his front from shoulder to hip.
This test determines the stress that shifting puts on the human body, and how much stress reverting to human form puts on the kaiju body, Iida is explaining over the intercom to the men on the other side of the glass. So far we haven’t found any issues, but considering both their safety and how valuable our officers are, we don’t want to take any risks.
To Midoriya, he says, Are you ready, Midoriya-kun?
“Hit me,” Midoriya says, closing his eyes and bracing himself.
The pulse cannons on the ceiling whine to life. He knows their shape, massive and conic, gleaming metal that sent shockwaves pounding down onto his body. They were modified from military pulse cannons—instead of energy or sound pulses, they pulsed memories harvested from the hivemind.
Well. Only one memory, really.
The first few pulses that strike Midoriya’s mind bring up flashes of images: getting knocked on his back by a Category Five, having his side shredded by a particularly nasty Category Three, his dream last night, the touch of the kaiju’s tongue, and then they settle on that memory. The pulses become a constant pressure, pressing into his head and forcing him to relive his first shift.
He was a little younger then. A little more innocent, a little more desperate. He feels tears burning in his eyes in mirror of the memory, because the pain had been so much help Mom Mom help me I can’t stand this let me die please just let me die—
He grits his teeth. There’s no blood pouring from my nose, Midoriya tells himself. My skin isn’t burning off me. He feels nauseous, his stomach turning. Midoriya gags and falls to the ground. He feels like his skin is melting to the ground, exposing his muscle and burning through that, straight into the bone, sending cracks through his entire body and turning him into a puddle of liquefied organs and skin and blood.
Midoriya roars aloud, trying to ground himself. Shift already!
His shoulders pop out out of their sockets, sending him crashing face first into the ground. The kaiju cells react to his mental distress, to him feeling like he’s dying all over again. That was one thing the kaiju were good at—not dying. And if he was going to be part kaiju, he wouldn’t be dying, nuh-uh, not on those cells’ watch.
(He’d done this so many times though. He couldn’t count the number of missions, the number of shifts. Each time he waited, patiently holding his breath to see if the kaiju cells would call it quits, see that radiation memory as just a normal life event that Midoriya had to endure rather than the life-threatening, extremely fatal procedure it had been.)
His bones grind and crunch, then thicken and reharden, and then it’s the rest of his body. His vertebrae pop out of alignment, poking through his already hardening skin as it scales over. He can feel his rib cage expanding, pushing his legs back, and then his ankle starts moving upward and knee moving outward and things get weird. It’s not painful at all, just kind of melty and vulnerable, Midoriya conscious but completely incapacitated by his shifting body. His skin itches as the scales grow in, black and green-sheened, and then again as his hair spreads down his backs and neck, settling comfortably between his shoulders and along his chest in his coarse, curling mane.
Midoriya feels relief as the memory of his radiation exposure fades and the pulse cannons’ whining dies out. He gives himself over to his kaiju and lets his body morph and reshape into something completely different.
It takes him a moment to stand up after completing his shift. He still feels a little bit like he’s made of jelly. He blinks his eyes open to find even lying down, his eyes are several meters above the ground. The military commanders and the Prime Minister are pressed up against the wall of another lab, as far away from the bay as they can manage. Oops. Midoriya must have scared them.
He kneads his claws into the floor a little, scratching at the metal and getting a feel for his paws. At least his kaiju is four-legged—Midoriya doesn’t know what he’d do with a kaiju like Shouji’s, all tentacles, but then again, Shouji and Kouda never shifted back, so maybe being human would be weird for them. Midoriya stands up, shaking his mane out and feeling the new length of his body down to the extra appendage that was his tail.
We’re lowering the gate, Midoriya-kun, Iida says over the intercom, and the glass wall in front of Midoriya begins to drop down.
Of course, that sends their guests into a frenzy, what are you doing, you’re letting it out, aaahh scary. Midoriya sinks back down to his belly and rests his head on his paws, trying to give off not-scary vibes despite the fact that he was the height of a decent-sized office building lying down.
Good thing I chose you, Aizawa says. You’re only a Category Three.
Midoriya huffs in agreement, managing (somehow) to frighten them more with his exhale. Aizawa was right. If Todoroki or Bakugou had been chosen to shift, whew. That would be a nightmare. They were two big Category Fives with the personalities you’d expect of alphas.
Alright, well the next step after shifting was obvious—communication.
We’re going to attach the hivemind relay band now, Iida says.
A robotic arm attached to the strip of metal separating bays rises and slides up its track, relay band in hand. Midoriya holds still as the arm secures the thick band between his eyes and ears. Aizawa and Iida put on similar headbands that press against their temples.
The arm retracts. At Iida’s word, the technician taps a series of buttons on the holoscreen. Midoriya feels the hivemind crackle to life, embedding itself in his mind and stretching out like the branches of a tree, reaching for the rest of his bloodmates. Suddenly, he can hear everyone loud and clear. His packmates are the most immediate—Todoroki’s boredom and the small amount of entertainment and pleasure he got from looking up and seeing Midoriya’s kaiju. Mina’s mind is all pleasure, eating something sweet that she probably shouldn’t be having. Tsuyu’s mind is relatively clear, she’s on a treadmill—oh, hi Izuku.
Midoriya projects a smile at her. She can’t hear him as clearly as he can hear her, but she knows his mental presence rather well. More distant but still readable are Artemis pack: Bakugou’s mantra of die fuck you die and pricks of pain, Kirishima’s sense of satisfaction stretching muscles, longing for his kaiju’s long legs, Tokoyami and Ojiro’s heavy breathing, fast asleep. Even Shouji and Kouda are possible to sense—their minds slow-moving and relaxed, resting.
Then Aizawa and Iida, very present in Midoriya’s mind, but not as pleasantly. He winces. They reveal too much and project awkwardly, like turning the volume up and down continuously. They are human; they don’t know how to regulate their minds like the hybrids do. Still, Iida’s mind is all curiosity and genuine concern for Midoriya’s health. Midoriya can’t hate a mind like that.
Aizawa’s is clinical, logical. His thoughts cut like a scalpel, clumsy and scattered but always scientific. Midoriya can only feel the faintest impressions of blue blood bastards and oh, sweet scotch, I long for you and something involving a chatty cockatoo on the other end of a Skype call (what?). He detects Midoriya’s racing mind after several long seconds, twice the time it had taken Midoriya to identify, sense, and project to the other hybrids.
(It was one of the few times he could really think humans with a half-smile on his face and mean it.)
Midoriya, Aizawa says. We’re going to run the diagnostics now. Try not to derail the system, alright?
Sorry, Midoriya says, remembering the last time he’d been so excited to talk to Mina about her girly teenage show plot twist that he’d skewed the diagnostics and made the computer spit out nonsense numbers. There was a reason they only shifted one at a time now for shift stress tests. At heart, the hybrids were just excitable puppies, and even more so when attached at the brain.
The computer algorithms pick at his mind in an invasive but mild way. Midoriya finds himself thinking intensely about different parts of his body without meaning to, and it takes years of training himself not to drag his mind away that allows the computer to assess the stress on his body. Some other technicians rolling a cart with a very big needle approach him, Uraraka in tow.
She offers him a regretful smile. “It’s easiest to do it now,” she says to him. Midoriya grunts, making one of the Prime Minister’s suits jump.
Uraraka walks into Midoriya’s space with a fearlessness he appreciates. She was one of the few people in the world to possess a love of and fascination with kaiju, no doubt influenced by her mentor, Newton Geizler. The chance to study them up close and without fear for her life was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. Well, even if it was just an obsession with the hybrids, she remained one of the few people who made no distinction between the consciousness of Midoriya and of his kaiju, Deku.
She pats his mane. “Ooo, you’re extra soft today, Midoriya,” she says.
He grunts again. Don’t think flattery will make me less irked with you.
“Cooperate, Midoriya,” Aizawa says, reading his mind easily.
“Let’s see that leg of yours,” Uraraka says.
Midoriya lifts his head, scaring their guests again, and extends his right leg so that Uraraka’s technicians can reach the soft skin on the underside of his scaled leg. The technicians set about drawing liters of his blood—metallic and so blue—while Uraraka distracts him. She reaches up to pat his chin, planting a kiss on him and rubbing his scales.
“I love you, Deku,” she croons. “…And Midoriya,” she adds, grinning wickedly up at him.
It’s tough, but Midoriya manages to coordinate an eye roll.
“He doesn’t…mind you touching him?” Nakamura says to Uraraka. For a military commander, he looks awfully young and amazed by Midoriya instead of scared. Also, he doesn’t call Midoriya ‘it’ which puts him in Midoriya’s good books.
I like him, Midoriya tells Aizawa at the same time Uraraka says, “Nope! Not at all! Would you like to give him a pat?”
Make him like you back, Aizawa says. He’s younger and more progressive than Matsumoto; he’s more likely to talk the Japanese military into giving us more funding.
“Are you insane?” Matsumoto sneers. “What’ll you do if it takes off Nakamura’s arm, or worse?”
Midoriya and Uraraka manage a synchronized eye roll. Iida is unable to repress an ugly snort of laughter.
“Oh my god,” Uraraka says beautifully, magnificently insubordinate. “He’s not an animal? Obviously? This is the same soldier you saw before. Same consciousness, same control. He may be half-kaiju, but he’s not a heathen.” She beckons Nakamura over. “Come on. Show that stuffy friend of yours that my friend is nothing to be afraid of.”
Nakamura hesitates at first, but a challenge is a challenge. He approaches Midoriya cautiously, and Midoriya is careful not to move. Nakamura reaches a hand upwards and hesitates just before touching Midoriya’s chin. Midoriya gently nudges his head forwards just enough to press his scales into Nakamura’s hand. The commander’s breath catches.
Uraraka pats Midoriya a few times. “Good boy,” she says.
Midoriya dismisses her with an exhale that ruffles both her and Nakamura’s hair.
Nakamura steps back and bows to Midoriya, just a little. “Thank you for your service,” he says quietly before returning to Matsumoto’s side, head held high.
Jackpot, Midoriya, Aizawa, and Iida think at the same time.
“Well,” Aizawa says. “That’s the shifting process. If you follow me, I can show you to our radiation monitoring chamber.”
The technician withdraws the last vial of Midoriya’s blood at the exact second the alarm bells go off. Midoriya perks up immediately and feels the rest of his bloodmates react in a similar fashion.
“Goody,” Aizawa says. “At least you’ll be able to see them in action.”
Midoriya sees Todoroki check his holowatch and flick to the flashing red message. Todoroki looks up and meets his eyes. He nods.
Aizawa-sensei? Midoriya asks.
“Apollo pack dismissed,” Aizawa says aloud, looking at his own watch. “Bakugou and Kirishima, you’re sticking with me.”
I’ll get the door, Iida says.
He types in a code and then a kaiju-sized door across the lab lifts open. There’s the jarring sensation of losing contact with Aizawa and Iida as they remove their headbands. Aizawa shoos their guests to the side in order for Midoriya to stand and pad along the front of the bays and through the door into another long hallway that led to the Shatterdome.
It’s kind of funny actually—as busy as the Shatterdome is, especially with a kaiju incoming, everything comes to a stop to let a hybrid in shift by. Carts and mechanics halt when Midoriya sticks his head through the door, making room for him to move. In a battle between a human and Midoriya’s foot, it was obvious who the victor would be.
Special Officer Midoriya Izuku, report to your launch bay, Yaoyorozu’s voice says over the intercom. With minimal casualties, please.
Midoriya is very careful where he steps.
He settles into his launch bay, similar to the lab’s bays expect all metal with two storm doors that opened into the ocean. Two robotic arms remove his relay band and two more descend from the ceiling with his combat relay band, made to withstand the elements and having a couple thousand-ton kaiju throw itself at it. Midoriya sticks his head through the band, sliding it into place. It tightens around his head snugly.
Within the next couple of minutes, Midoriya hears a few roars and grunts of discomfort and the snapping of reshapen bone through the walls as his pack shifts. Then, Yaoyorozu again.
Apollo pack shift complete, five confirmed, Yaoyorozu says. HYCOM, prepare to launch Yggdrasil Connection.
Yggdrasil Connection calibrated, Kaminari’s cheerful voice joins in. Launching in three, two—
This time when the hivemind roars to life, Midoriya’s mind sparks against the minds of his packmates, there in his head, as present as his own thoughts.
Oh boy, pack is here, hellohifamilylovefondness—
Yes yes YES! Missionbattlekillkill fight fight packsostrong want to bite want to eat—
Tired, a little on the dry side, oh dear, hope I turned the oven off—
Restrain yourselves.
Todoroki’s command settles their four minds (single mind) into quiet. They listen as one for Todoroki’s next command.
We have a double event, Category Three and Four, Todoroki says. Quirks, unidentified. No return kaiju.
(Midoriya breathes a sigh of relief.)
Midoriya, Asui, and Ashido on the Category Three, Todoroki says. Kouda and I will take the Category Four. Kouda, hold it down while I tear its throat out. You three wear it down and take the kill shot if you get it.
Yggdrasil Connection holding steady, Kaminari says. Yo, you guys ready to go? Yaoyorozu, Kaminari, and Jirou’s minds hum at different points along the hivemind, but they don’t thrum in alignment like Apollo pack’s do.
Mission plan prepped, Todoroki replies. Green to go.
Coms open and functioning, Jirou says. Sero is online and already in the air.
Alright team, Yaoyorozu says. Let’s do this. Clean kills, Apollo pack. Mina, I’m talking to you.
Mina’s disappointment and fantasy of disemboweling a kaiju flickers unbidden through the hivemind. The HYCOM members groan and Kaminari makes a retching noise. Todoroki growls, and Mina gives up with a finefine nofun (still get to kill).
Sometimes I wonder if you’re really human at all, Tsuyu says.
Mina’s mind is the lightning bolt flash of a smile. Half alien, all trouble, she says. Born for this job.
HYCOM to LOCCENT Mission Control, Jirou says. Permission to launch Apollo pack.
Permission granted, Marshal Nedzu replies.
Launching, Jirou says.
Midoriya’s storm doors open and he tenses, bracing his body in a crouch, prepared to leap out and into the ocean. All his packmates wait. Then Todoroki leaps out, leading the charge, and Midoriya and Tsuyu are out a heartbeat after, followed by Mina and Kouda who close up their formation.
As shitty as they were, the kaiju sure did pick a beautiful day to rise from their watery dungeon. The sky is smattered by only a few clouds and the sun has just made its way over the hills, bathing the ocean in warm sunlight that heats up Midoriya’s hide. The water would be freezing to a human, but against his layers of skin and muscle, Midoriya doesn’t feel a lick of cold.
The water drags at Midoriya’s legs but he powers through it, splashing through the shallows like a dog tearing after a ball in a game of fetch. The pull of the ocean is just another obstacle; nothing under the raw power of his kaiju form once he got his legs stretched and hit his stride. Midoriya feels like he could run for hours.
The sentiment is returned by his packmates, even the stoic Todoroki. They love the feeling of fresh air and letting their kaiju loose. Midoriya doesn’t even feel like fighting, really. Maybe it’s those gray wolf genes, but he just wants to pounce on Tsuyu or gnaw at Mina’s ear.
I’m glad you’re feeling strong, Yaoyorozu says. But remember—that same strength you feel is what makes the true kaiju so dangerous. They can turn all that energy into city and world destroying and go for hours.
Right. The pack’s focus returns to the kaiju at hand as Todoroki slows them to a walk, wading into deeper water and spreading out, waiting for the kaiju to break the surface. Their senses are sharper than both humans’ and Sero’s tracking chopper. They’re already bracing for battle by the time Jirou starts talking to them.
Kaiju signature rising, Jirou says. Sero’s on them, the Cat. Three is about 1.2 kilometers out and the Cat. Four is trailing at 3 kilometers.
Data on them? Todoroki asks.
Category Three, codename ‘Ningyo,’ dolphin-like, Yaoyorozu says. Category Four, codename ‘Leviathan,’ whale-like. Be wary of that Category Four, though—he’s almost a Category Five.
They’re coming to us in themed sets now, Kouda says. I always did want to go whale-watching.
Amusement ripples across the hivemind. Midoriya feels anticipation drip down his spine from Mina-maybe-Kouda and calm focus clear his head from Yaoyorozu-Tsuyu-Todoroki. When he breathes, it is with four other sets of lungs and the almost rabbit-quick heartbeats of their three human commanders at HYCOM.
All Might in position for support, Jirou says.
Put on a good show, we’ve got company up here, Yaoyorozu says. Earn your keep, ladies and gentleman.
Behind the hybrids, All Might shifts in position. With red and blue paint chipping off his grand exterior, All Might isn’t the prettiest of the Jaegers, but he gets the job done, a metal beast among those of flesh and blood. His shoulder plates lift, the six blast cannons rolling out and ready to fire.
The pilots of All Might don’t have a link to the hivemind like HYCOM do. They’re under LOCCENT still, as per regulation, away from all the sciencey mumbo-jumbo of Aizawa’s people. Still, when Midoriya glances back at them, he feels as if he can see through the Conn-Pod to see Toshinori and Tsukauchi at the reins. They were veterans, yes, but that didn’t mean Midoriya had any intention of letting them fight. It was their job to protect the base and save humanity. All Might had the highest number of drops on record. They deserved to rest.
Midoriya’s ironclad will to protect All Might ripples through the hivemind, settling into the bones of his pack and giving them a secondary mission directive, too subtle for HYCOM to pick up on.
Incoming, Yaoyorozu says.
Ningyo breaks the surface first, its three eyes blown wide and jaw parted to reveal four layers of jagged teeth. Its resemblance to a dolphin is weak at best. It has the head and snout to mimic a dolphin, but four legs and a line of dorsal fin blades that end in a twin-blade tail. When it sees the line of hybrids, it roars.
Okay, first of all, ew, Mina says. I am so glad I don’t look like that.
Avoid the jaws at all costs, Todoroki says. Those teeth won’t let go and you won’t be able to wrench yourself free. If it gets your neck, it’s a death sentence.
That tail looks fast, too, Midoriya says. Tsuyu, can you take it?
Can do, Tsuyu says. I’ll worry about that. Mina, you distract and Izuku, you slam it.
Go ahead, Todoroki says. Take it down.
Midoriya feels Tsuyu’s intent before she leaps. He braces himself as she lands on top of him, using him as a springboard to launch herself at the kaiju. Mina doesn’t wait. She sprints through the water, paws tucked under her body with her speed. Rolling his eyes, Midoriya follows at a distance.
As he suspected, the tail is fast. Ningyo uses its tail as its main weapon, attempting to lure the hybrids away from its swing and into its jaws. To the kaiju’s frustration, though, Mina is both wary and excited. She darts in and out, swatting at Ningyo’s hide with her claws then bouncing back on her back legs. If the kaiju gets too close to her, it gets cut up on her spike-whiskers that cut through skin and muscle with ease.
In the meantime, Tsuyu is positioning herself to strike. Midoriya hears them, thought-speaking too fast to catch full words. Instead, he gets images and mental impressions in place of speech.
Findweakspot, tonguelashcatch. Pinkyacidgo, Dekubam, then neckteethtearbloodfleshvictory!
What begins as Tsuyu’s train of thought ends with Mina. Midoriya adds his own gogogo message of approval and then Tsuyu’s tongue shoots out, wrapping the end of Ningyo’s tail in tough tongue muscle and wrenching it back against its intended forward motion, locking the tail in place. Tsuyu winces in pain as her tongue gets too close to the blades and they cut in. Mina responds to her pain by dashing to her side and opening her mouth wide, ejecting acid from the glands at either side of her tongue. The acid arcs through the air and lands squarely on Ningyo’s tail.
The kaiju howls in pain, Mina’s acid melting straight through its body like a flame to butter. The tail drops off and Ningyo is left only with its back blades and ferocious jaw. It leaps at Mina who spits another round of acid across its jaw and leaps to the side just in time for Midoriya to tuck his head down and body slam the kaiju.
Its skin ripples all the way through muscle to its bones, cracking them to pieces. Midoriya hadn’t even hit it full strength, but the kaiju flies across the ocean, crashing into the water with its left side legs and ribs shattered. Mina is after it in a second, leaping onto its battered body and tearing out its—yeah, okay, Midoriya wasn’t going to watch Mina disembowel a kaiju when he could hear her satisfied almost-purr through the hivemind anyway. He and Tsuyu turn to the Category Four kaiju as it rises from the ocean.
Alarm flashes through the hivemind. There was no way that thing was a Category Four—it had to be a Category Five at least. It stands many meters above Todoroki and Kouda, rolling its great eye to look at them as it breaches. The kaiju Leviathan lets out a low rumble, but then turns its focus away from the hybrids completely and instead starts to move towards land.
No weapons apparent, Yaoyorozu says, sounding just a tad distressed. That’s why it’s so big and still only a Cat. Four. Don’t be fooled by its size, though—that thing has five tails, it can move. And it’s built like a battering ram, so take it down quickly!
Ningyo was only paving the way so that thing could get through, Tsuyu says. Todoroki—!
I know, Todoroki says. Kouda, try and knock it off balance.
Yaoyorozu wasn’t wrong; once that thing got going, it got going. Kouda flanks it, attempting to muscle it over onto its side, but it doesn’t budge. Worse, Kouda is built like a tank—slow and meant to take heavy hits or act as a battering ram. He wasn’t intended to chase. Midoriya takes off at a sprint to try and intercept it.
He joins Kouda in knocking against it, timing their shoves through the link. With Midoriya’s super-strength, they manage to alter its course a bit, but Leviathan hardly slows down and readjusts its course with every nudge, making no attempt at all to fight the hybrids.
Midoriya changes his strategy. He falls behind the kaiju and attempts to smash its tails by leaping up and crushing them. He manages to hit them, but Leviathan is moving so fast that Midoriya only damages the ends of the tails and does little to slow them down.
All Might moving to intercept, Jirou says.
Midoriya’s howl of frustration rattles through all their minds. No! he yells.
Midoriya, we have to, Yaoyorozu says. There’s a city of almost a million nearby, and they’re not evacuated, just in shelters. That thing will crush them.
Rain, no, it’s ocean water and brick dust and the cries of a hundred frightened people and that fluorescent tongue and the kaiju looks at him—
Todoroki! Tsuyu and Kouda call out simultaneously.
Don’t be afraid, Todoroki’s mind whispers to Midoriya’s. We will protect them.
Before Leviathan stands Shouto, in all his glory. The steam vents on his back pour out white smoke, and when he exhales, the heat of his breath shimmers. The spikes at his shoulders glow a blinding white, and then from Todoroki to Leviathan, twin lines of ice skate across the ocean, rising into piercing spires when they reach Leviathan and lifting it out of the water so it can only flail uselessly.
And then, Todoroki parts his jaws and unleashes a flamethrower of magma-hot liquid fire.
Leviathan melts like Ningyo had under Mina’s acid. Todoroki leaves a valley of charred kaiju skin between two mountains of untouched flesh, as if the middle of the kaiju had been carved out with a spoon. The ice melts with the heat of the flames, leaving a mess of broken kaiju and several misplaced icebergs.
No kaiju blue , Todoroki says, warmth filling his chest. That should make clean-up easier.
Midoriya leans against Tsuyu, who had crawled alongside him. He breathes a sigh of relief. Todoroki had every reason to feel proud. After all, he was their ace in the hole, the ultimate trump card when it came to dealing with kaiju. He can hear All Might’s cannons powering down.
Kaiju signatures negligible, Jirou says. Good work, guys.
These suits look pretty gobsmacked , too, Yaoyorozu says. Another job well done.
Yay! Mina says, leaping off Ningyo’s carcass and cannonballing into the ocean. She creates a small tidal wave in her wake. She then proceeds to attempt to climb Kouda, who lowers himself down in the water to allow her access. Todoroki’s spines lower, heating vents in his back closing, and wades towards his pack.
Midoriya turns his gaze to the harbor of Musutafu’s neighboring city. Yikes. That was the closest they’d come in a while, but still further out along the ten-mile boundary than a lot of Jaeger teams. Good, the hybrids had proven their worth. With luck, this would mean more funding and less officials poking their nose into Musutafu base’s business.
Midoriya’s about to turn around and join his pack when he catches sight of a lone figure standing at the edge of the city pier. Midoriya frowns mentally. Had they been standing there the entire battle? That was dangerous!
He can make out heavy red robes, a stole with intricate black markings, and an impressive red headpiece covering their face. Stringy grey-blue hair falls around their face and in front of their ears. As if sensing Midoriya’s eyes on them, the figure smiles.
Midoriya looks away, hackles rising. They weren’t just an observer. He feels it in his gut, trembling all the way to his human core.
Tsuyu picks up on his unease and tilts her head, blinking large eyes at him. What’s wrong? She asks.
Nothing , Midoriya says. I hope.