Chapter Text
He’s a failure.
He’d failed in the most spectacular way at the one thing he was supposed to do: Protect his class.
“Nine UA students and their teacher were killed in a villain ambush. The perpetrators are suspected to be connected to the League of Villains, who have claimed responsibility for this act. Though this is a tragedy, this massacre is only one in a long line of incidents with UA this school year. Debates on the school’s safety are beginning to rise-”
His teacher, not Aizawa, Present Mic , shuts the TV off. “You don’t need to hear that,” he says firmly. His eyes are bloodshot and weary, but he’s still forcing an upbeat smile.
How can heroes smile when they’re on the brink of breaking down? There are some things he doesn’t want to know anymore. If every smile masks uncertainty or fear or whatever else they’re feeling…
It must be soul sucking to become a hero.
Izuku chokes on his tears and stares at the ceiling, almost entirely immobile. Slow breaths; in, out. But he can’t calm down, because his brain works against him, counting the lives lost.
Yaoyorozu Momo.
Asui Tsuyu.
Sero Hanta.
Kaminari Denki.
Ojiro Mashirao.
Jirou Kyouka.
Kouda Kouji.
Kirishima Eijirou.
Kacchan.
And Aizawa-sensei.
They’re gone, and he’s not fit to go back and save them. Hell, he can hardly move in this present moment. Those who haven’t died are dealing with the consequences of his failings.
Todoroki is in critical condition and barely hanging on. Tokoyami has to be restrained and have his quirk suppressed because of the unbridled rage he exhibited at his classmates and teacher’s death. Ochako’s nowhere to be found. Iida’s still unconscious. Everyone’s grieving; so confused as to how this could’ve happened.
(His fault.)
“It’s gonna be okay, listener,” Present Mic assures him.
(He doesn’t want pretty lies from the blonde. He wants harsh truths for Aizawa.)
“Just focus on getting better, m’kay?”
‘Getting better’?
How.
How does he ‘get better’ from this? How does he move on? His class now has nine empty seats and UA’s staff has an open position.
Because he couldn’t save them. Nearly half of his classmates died fighting while he was off to the side, unable to move because the damn villain wanted him to suffer.
“Severe damage to all limbs,” the doctors tells him. “With trauma to the lower back. After a year of physical therapy, you should be back to full strength, but I can’t speak to whether or not you can continue at UA. It’s too early. Frankly, I’d advise against it. It’s too dangerous and given things like this incident have happened frequently, you’d be better off staying away from UA. Better yet, all hero schools.”
Izuku might’ve blown up at the doctor. He doesn’t remember. Everything’s still sinking in.
Dead.
Dead.
Dead.
His fault.
The nurse comes in. “Sir, Midoriya’s father is here.”
Present Mic pats his knee and stands, nodding towards Izuku. “I’ll give you two some space.” And so he leaves.
The nurse hits the ‘up’ button on his bed and smiles sympathetically at him.
(Don’t look at me like that.)
His father enters the room in a hurry. “ Izuku .” The look on Hisashi’s face melts into something like relief and deep concern. “Thank God.” Tears trail down his father’s cheeks in fat droplets.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Okay is subjective. He’s never felt worse in his life, but he strains a smile.
It’s for his dad. He’s got to put on a brave for him.
“Yeah,” he whispers, voice shattering under its tremble. “I’m….-”
Hisashi hugs him, wrapping his arms in a tight, but gentle, embrace around his son.
Izuku finally breaks. “W-what about your job-b?” He asks in between sobs. “I’m staying in Japan,” Hisashi says with finality. Izuku’s eyes widen (he’s messed things up even more. His father loves his job-) “But-”
“No buts. I’m going to stay here with you, Izuku.” His eyes soften and he places his hand on Izuku’s. The skin is more worn, bones just beginning to show with odd freckles of varying darkness splattered across his knuckles. His hand is bigger, but not by much. Izuku hasn’t noticed how much he’s grown since he held his tiny palm up to his father’s and gaped at how it seemed to disappear in Hisashi’s grasp.
He lets out a watery gasp and cries harder.
Izuku wants his father back home more than anything, but….he can’t.
Not at the expense of his friends and teacher’s lives.
(Sometimes, you see everything you wish you had and it’s right there.) (Right in front of you.)
He smiles politely at his father and moves his hand. Hisashi doesn’t comment on it, maybe he looks a little hurt, but sits and talks to Izuku until visitation hours are up.
“Love you, kid,” Hisashi says.
He nods when his father leaves.
‘I love you too’ is stuck in his throat.
(He should've said it.)
The nurse comes in and turns the lights off, telling him he needs to rest. She puts the bed in recline before she exits again, the sound of her claw-like feet scraping against the floor.
He stares at the dimly lit ceiling, the only light being from the city outside his window. People pass his door; the minutes drag on, but he doesn’t care. He’s waiting.
There’s a click before the window scrapes against the pane as it’s slid open. Lana climbs in, her orange eyes glinting in the darkness. “You know why I'm herrre,” she states, pulling her mask down and flipping her hood back.
Her hair isn’t floating, he notes, but he’s not sure what it means.
“Yeah,” he replies breathily. “I know.”
She purses her lips, pointed ears twitching minutely in a flicker of a motion. It’s a tell of her unease, but he wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t spent so long with her.
The thought almost makes him smile.
“It’s okay,” he says, forcing himself to sit up a little. (It hurts-) “Really.”
At this, Lana produces a syringe from her pocket. “A concoction of Park’s,” she explains, reaching for the IV drip. “It’s supposed to be painless and quick.”
Her ears are still twitching.
She pushes the tinted fluid in the needle into the IV bag. “It should only be a few minutes now,” she says, reconnecting the drip to the tube.
He nods, ignoring the lump in his throat.
It’s for the best.
It’s for the best.
“Could you stay?” He blurts.
Lana pauses mid-step from the window. She turns back to him, silent, before settling into the chair beside his bed. “I’ll stay.” There’s a pause. “What is it like? To die, I mean.”
He sinks back into the pillow, not quite meeting her eyes. “It depends on how you die,” he replies slowly, because how does he explain death? There aren’t words for the things he experiences when he dies. “But...it feels a lot like letting go. Freefalling, but you’re drifting and everything’s fading out. If it’s slow. If it’s quick, it just feels like falling without anything to grab onto.”
She nods, tapping a talon against the chair. “Go on.” Her faint look of interest pales in comparison to the tension winding her shoulders.
She’s distracting him.
He doesn't know if he should be thankful or offended, so he settles on indifferent and carries on.
“Well,” he continues sleepily, a new numbness spreading through his mind. “Sometimes it’s like a weight pressing around you. It doesn’t go away until you give in.”
Lana sits up more in her seat, orange eyes intense. “Is it skarrry?” She asks, leaning in.
“....sometimes,” he admits. “I mean, you’re dying. Who knows what’s on the other side….” Izuku turns to look at her, black spots filling his vision. “-if there even is one?”
Her lips are pushed together in a tight, thin line. “ Отдохни хорошо , Midorrriya. I hope you find yourrr heaven someday.”
Izuku falls asleep and pushes hard against the bounds of his quirk.
Back.
He has to go back.
Back far enough to stop it all.
Izuku flies through time, a cold wind whistling in his ears and nipping his flesh. “Love you, kid,” Hisashi says, smiling faintly.
He should’ve said it back.
Izuku leans back into his quirk and-
l e t s g o .
----------------------
“In other news, associates of the League of Villains launched an attempted attack on Class 1-A this afternoon. No one was harmed and the villains were arrested. This is all thanks to a tip from an unknown source. UA has refused to release-”
Nezu switches the TV off with a tap of his paw, drumming his claws against the desk. “So, Midoriya Izuku-” A dark glint passes through his beady eyes that borders on threatening. “How did you know about all this?”
The last few weeks had been hell; mourning the loss of those who hadn’t even died yet and desperately trying to change their fate.
In the end, it all comes down to a stroke of luck.
That is all it takes to save ten lives.
Izuku lifts his eyes to meet his gaze.
How indeed, Principal Nezu. How indeed.