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Why didn’t he feel guilty?
He was a hero and everyone he couldn’t save always ruined him with guilt, he still thought of those he couldn’t save in everything he did. Every villain he captured, every patrol he walked, and every person he saved – he thought of those he couldn’t.
But he didn’t feel guilty, he felt nothing. Well, not nothing, maybe relief… and confusion. Why didn’t he feel guilty that he watched Endeavour die? He couldn’t have saved him, he knows that because he’d tried to, and even knowing that he was powerless to save the villainous hero should have wrecked him with guilt for not being good enough.
He just didn’t care. He’d done all he could, Endeavour still died. Endeavour is dead. He just did not care.
Does this make him a bad hero? He wanted to save everyone and sure he felt something at the fact that he couldn’t save someone because thinking about it, that someone could have been anyone. But it wasn’t anyone: it was Endeavour. He should feel guilty, yet every time he tried to muster up the guilt he would always feel, those questions of why couldn’t you save them? Got pushed right back because he wasn’t scarred or even bothered enough to find out.
What was protocol again, for a pro hero death? Ugh. He’d have to give a speech about the deadbeat dads ‘bravery’ because he fought alongside him in his last battle. Couldn’t he just die, too? He didn’t want to do that. Oh, idea. He could just talk about Todoroki the entire time. He’d find a way to make that work.
Uh, next… cover the pro hero? He moved to go and do just that with whatever he could find but he found that although he could will himself to get up, his body wasn’t actually doing that but instead bursting with intense pain, he hissed through it. Once he was aware of that pain, it didn’t stop.
Of course, the villain strong enough to take down hero Endeavour wouldn’t be an easy fight; of course, he was beat to all hell.
Seated on his tailbone, curled in on himself without realising, his back was killing him, his whole body was betraying him really. He felt sick to his stomach, and his blood was shedding. He tried not to look, it’s not like he could do anything to help himself right now, if he attempted to bandage the wounds or apply pressure he’s pretty sure he’d shatter.
He’d be here a while.
He had to tell Todoroki. He was nervous to, sure the father wasn’t loving or tender, he was brutal and scolding, but none the less it’s a loss of life and a part of Todoroki’s life. This really can’t go down smoothly, there’s a lot of unspoken emotions there. The impact of Endeavour’s death on Todoroki isn’t something Izuku can say he knows.
He takes his phone, courtesy of the support class, out of his pocket and unlocks the screen with eye recognition. He dials up Todoroki, wincing at the weight in his arm.
“Midoriya.” He greets, after just two rings. To which he’s met with a few wet gasps and only half of a hiss as Izuku moved the phone away in hopes Todoroki wouldn’t hear, “Where are you?” His tone changes to determination as he realises that the purpose of this call is trouble.
Ready as ever to run to Izuku’s rescue when he couldn’t finish the job with a smile.
“I’m fine, Todoroki. But yeah, I think maybe you’ll need to come to the scene. You should be here to hear this.” Izuku pants.
“Midoriya.” He warns.
Of course, Todoroki would try to scold him. He knew he was concerned for Deku, they were friends. Being heroes was quite busy so it’s not like school where they’d see each other every weekday, but they saw each other most weeks. Sometimes alone, sometimes with various members of the class, it was 50/50. Midoriya was keeping some sort of news from him, he could feel the anticipation, fearing the worst.
“No, really, its about your father I can’t tell you like this it-“ A frustrated groan writhed out of Izuku before he could recognise it, he sighed and finished “-feels wrong. Please listen to me.”
“What did that old man do to you?”
“No! Nothing please-“ As he expected, Todoroki had every right to assume the call was because the anti-hero had done something to Izuku personally.
“Tell me.”
“Endeavours dead, Todoroki. He died.”
Silence on the line, he switches the hand that holds the phone when the weight of the tiny device was too much for his bruised and most-likely bleeding muscles. He caught a glance at his sleeve while switching and saw his wrist going a deep purple, black even. Not looking good, looks like internal bleeding. He probably wouldn’t lose his arm, though, and that was a small comfort.
He decided to offer an explanation to the silence on the receiver, “I’ve just been in combat,” He huffs immediately after the words leave his mouth, realising that was obvious, “there were two pro heroes with me, your father and then later on Blazerope came. The villain had a nasty quirk, I couldn’t have imagined fighting against the same power of a dying star, I didn’t know that even could be a quirk. I’m just glad that casualties are minimal. In fact, with pedestrians only shaken up I’d say this was near-perfect. However, the pro heroes, Todoroki. I-uh- Me being one of those, are- it’s not the aftermath to strive for I suppose, to put it pleasantly. Blazerope, being the least effected is still beaten horrifically but mobile, and the worst being… your father.” God this is hurting, he puts the phone on speaker and lies down, whining through his teeth as he goes to the floor with as much control as he could muster. The movement was dizzying.
“Todoroki, I don’t know what to tell you but… Endeavor died here. He’s dead, Shouto.” Midoriya cringes and then yelps as his midsection burned in pain.
There was no descriptor for the pain he felt: it wasn’t knives, he couldn’t identify that sensation singularly but if he had to tell someone he’d have to say it was knives for lack of a better label; it wasn’t fire, searing, burning, flames across his skin and muscles, ripping through his organs and rushing through his blood destructively, he wouldn’t say it was that but if he was forced to give explanation then he’d tell them it was fire he felt, too; it wasn’t sickness that ran ragged through his veins, an immensity so sore and violent that although the pain and discomfort followed, it still managed to make him feel displaced and out-of-body, it wasn’t that either, but it was something, some way to claw at the way he felt, some way to claim the pain he had threatening to take his body from him, and his mind.
“Tell me where you are, I want to be there before the ambulance arrives.”
Izuku can’t tell anything from his voice, it’s as covert as ever.
He sighs, “Still in Musutafu, but it’s Horinji Avenue.”
“I know the street you’re in. My ice is quicker than a vehicle. I’m on my way, do you need anything? Anything at all.”
Does he not know that vile man is dead? His father? Was he happy? Sad? Angry? Did Midoriya even say it? Did the phone break up when he was trying to say-
“I heard you perfectly well.” There’s faint background noise and then he hears wind in the receiver, an indication that Todoroki is using his ice to slide the distance. It’s about a ten-minute drive, Todoroki should be here in about four with his ice, he can go wildly impressive speeds with his quirk.
Trying to think, he feels fear bubbling inside him. He knows he has to be paranoid, but his body is so out of his grasp. The pain is all he feels, not his own flesh, not his muscles moving, not even the blood flowing out of him. He wouldn’t know if a snake crept into him while he was lying there, he couldn’t turn his head to check. He so desperately just wanted to confirm his suspicion that nothing could be happening to him but the more he strained at nothing to look the surer this nagging thought felt. He could vividly see the serpent snaking around him, making his skin crawl in ways he wishes he could feel, wishes he could feel the reptiles skin so he didn’t feel so damn freaked out by it. He imagines a thousand spider-like ghouls erupting from the many wounds he knew were pouring, he knows he’s spilling blood, but he can’t shake the image that he’s really spilling scorpions and other abominations.
It was irrational. He tried to tell himself that, tried to scream that it was just the fear of the unknown making him concoct these nightmares. They’d stop if he could just see. Just survey the damage, he had no idea what was going on with his own body and it was torturous. He couldn’t feel anything but this painful mixture of bile, and sharpness, and smoulder. The images were delusional and impossible. Without control of his body, though, he couldn’t help but picture it - the worst.
So Midoriya waits, thinking through everything. He doesn’t notice the other pro hero he fought with approach him again, last time Blazerope was standing over him he didn’t tell Izuku anything he wanted to hear exactly. He was having a worse time now than when the after-battle adrenaline made him a somewhat-aware amount of numb. He hadn’t tried to move by then, everything was still fine at that point, well, better than it was now anyway. He wasn’t coping.
“I’ve tried everything to bring him back, but my arms seized up, he’s really gone. I have never had a hero die on me. I have to admit I’m scared. I feel like I should be screaming but at the same time I don’t know how I have the words to talk.” The hero sighed, “How are you holding up?”
His body was forsaking him, not allowing him to know that he even had legs left aside from the outline of murder buzzing about his anatomy. Limbs screaming in a whisper, as if taunting him, talking about him, bullying him. This level of pain is proving to be detrimental to his sanity.
Come on, buck up, he prays.
“I’m,” He squeaks and re-starts, ignoring the look on the other hero towering over him, “I’m on the phone to T-“ His brain breaks, he messily tries to grasp at the liquid mush and piece it back together, “Endeavours son.” Blazerope pales and stutters to a halt, muttering a curse.
“Well that’s gonna be hard.”
“He’ll be here soon. Less than a couple minutes now.”
He took that as his queue to leave, “If you need me, I’m going to the civilians, I think they’re trying to get a look at us all. I don’t want them to see you like this, alright? Or Endeavour. Just shout, like a code word or something, I don’t know shout, uh-“
“I’ll shout plus ultra if I need you, thanks.” Deku blushes, he never lets go of his roots, just gets stronger. He needs the reminder, what plus ultra really means. “It’ll be okay, you’ll figure it out. I don’t think the adrenaline is letting you process it, you have my contact if it hits you after.” He offers an uneven smile, and surprisingly having a stranger in front of him really brought out the actor in him. The simmering pain boiling over barely shows on his face, hopefully he can pull this off with Shouto, too.
It’s then that he feels cold flush through him and he shudders, causing him to spit in pain and allow a sob to escape his lips. The other hero just hovers, unsure of his touches, not wanting to make things worse and says, “You too, you’ll be okay.” Before leaving, dragging an invisible ten-ton ball and chain from inside his stomach. The least hurt of the bunch still showing signs of the fight weighing on him, it was tortuous as the battle companion dragged himself out of Izuku’s sight.
He feels like his blood is acid and it’s disintegrating his organs, the froth and heat of the reaction prominent inside and all over him. He could melt here, ugly and disgusting, not a trace left as it sears through him, cunningly. Gross substances evaporating, catching fire. The smell, if he had his senses, god the smell of it would kill.
His quirk deceiving him, the knowledge that he had reins on his quirk was a comfort until he threw a punch and shattered like glass, being ground like he was in a pestle and mortar. That betrayal did the most damage, he was so unsure of himself, so sick of himself. The paramedics wouldn’t fix that, he’d have to go back out and be a hero with that wound soon after this. Doubt was a killer, he’d work on it.
If he lived through this.
It’s like that for a little more time. It’s excruciatingly lonely and painful and scary. He’s afraid of how Todoroki feels, he feels like he’s dying repeatedly with every second, and he can’t see any movement from his position on the floor. It’s a god send when he hears his voice.
An automatic reaction to the relief, his chest heaved a sigh, and that was a mistake. He cried out loud, screaming and gurgling for just a few seconds before lying breathless and strung.
“Shit, Midoriya, what do you need me to do?” Panic laced his voice, it sounded dignified and ready but Izuku knew better. It was a rope, fraying and dragging ripping burn marks and he could feel it suffocate the both of them.
And that breaks Izuku, he sobs.
Shouto is on his knees at Midoriyas side, he spares a quick glance at the scene and sees rubble and fire and blood. It shakes his core. He thinks he sees his father before he turns away, he looks different without the flames and it’s eerie, but he ignores it.
Midoriya is whimpering, his entire being is trembling. The vibration exhausting his muscles even though he can’t feel them, not aware of his shaking. His movements are cautious, every time a sob escapes- he restricts its impact, he does his best not to let it ripple through his chest. He’s not sure he’d survive it.
He doesn’t open his mouth, his lips are glued with dried blood now, a seal formed by how hard he’s been melding them together. Air tight, the only oxygen he receives getting in through his broken nose. His whimpers tickle his lips and he’s thankful for once that he can really feel something, he can identify a sensation that doesn’t leave him a confused mess, though those lips are pained with pins and needles he’s grateful that he can feel beyond those electrifying pokes.
He swears he hears a breath that contains his given name, but he’s dizzy and doesn’t want to bet on it in his state. He’s almost sure he wouldn’t be hearing things, but the things he was seeing earlier make him question how sure he can be of himself anymore.
Upon trying to listen out for it again he discovers that all the liquid in his ears is troubling, there’s so much of it that he knew if he could stand, this flooding would render his balance a pathetic zero. The thought of the amount of effort gives him a migraine, maybe it’s even an aneurism. He wouldn’t be surprised.
“Izuku, can you talk? Can you move for me, just twitch your fingers, alright? Can you do that for me, please? I just need to evaluate your state right now, will you let me help you?” He knows he’s gotten worse, weaker, since he was on the phone. He can’t hear the crackle of the receiver anymore, he doesn’t know why that is, but he hopes Todoroki just put the phone down. His condition is definitely worsening, and showing no signs of any improvement.
He’ll put his all into moving his fingers if it’s the very last thing he does.
So, he tries. His eyes squeeze closed hard enough that he feels bile rise in his throat from the stars sweeping the back of his eyelids, disorienting him. He concentrated on nothing but the fingers on his hand, just the one, he needs maximum focus. And he puts his all into it, even trying to put One For All into the movement for extra power, but the only response his body gives is a crashing weight. And he realises he stopped breathing, so he gasps for air- crying at his own ribs attacking his lungs.
As he’s panting and confused, Todoroki allows himself to worry, to feel it seep into his nerve endings and sear them. And he knows it’s nothing compared to the pain he silently begs to take from Midoriya. So he tries, too. He tries to bear the burden for Izuku, he’ll keep going until the first responders are here and every day after that.
“Can you,” Todoroki speaks but as soon as Midoriya became aware of the sound it slipped from his grasp.
“MIDORIYA.” Is screamed at him, pulling him back to consciousness that he didn’t realise he lost, and he’s so giddy when he feels a hand on his shoulder and he nearly vomits because he could feel it.
“…Ki, To…, To… Do…. Ro,” He gasps, collecting all the oxygen he expelled trying to form words, his heavy breaths in between too shallow to give him the air he needed. It’s then that sick slips from his lips in splutters.
“Holy fuck, Midoriya.” His voice is high-pitched and it’s unusual on him. But he returns to his character, worry not vanished but pushed back to a subtle hint. “It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine, it hurts and it’s scary, but you’ll be fine. And with some time, you’ll be back to normal, right?”
Then he sees the halved boy lower himself to drape across the injured, not putting pressure on his failing frame but when he’s low enough- he does touch the boy’s body with his own.
In patches, Izuku can feel it. He’s grateful.
Todoroki gathers some comfort from the ghosting touch, that barely-there closeness, and picks up his strength. He tears off some of the clothing around Izuku’s most gaping wounds to allow the blood to clot there, removing the clothing now means they shouldn’t need to remove the articles when the wound has clotted and re-open it, it’s a small grace. He takes the scraps to places that won’t clot, the wounds that have generously filled the cracks in the concrete and spilled over those quickly filled gaps to paint the ground beneath hero Deku.
He puts some fabric over a gushing laceration, but the rate of blood loss just carries the fabric away in its stream, Todoroki watches, thoroughly scarred. He hopes Izuku won’t scream when he does this but it’s his last hope to cut-off the blood loss. He makes a tourniquet from his leather belt and ties it around Izuku’s arm and then makes a second and third from the strongest materials of his own costume and ties them around the boy’s legs, after all three tourniquets are applied to the worst areas of blood loss Todoroki puts a hand over two of the wounds and presses down hard.
Projectile vomit flies up and crashes back beside and on Midoriya’s face, and Todoroki thinks a scream would have been less concerning. The tears in the green hero’s pale eyes still look so beautiful though, and he curses the time that is being wasted. Why aren’t there more people with time quirks working for the emergency services? It’s selfish wanting to be a hero when the ambulance could have arrived by now with a time, speed, or location manipulation quirk on their side, just something more.
When this is all over he’s dead-set on writing a speech to recruit for that.
“Are you with me?” He whispers, glaring with a mixture of hope and fear, unmoving pupils focused on glassy eyes.
A cough, then, “Yeah.”
As Todoroki sighs relief, a siren fills his ears, “Do you hear that, Izu? That’s probably for us, it has to be yours.” He cries.
“…Yeah.” But it’s gurgled this time.
Todoroki’s head falls to the broken boy’s shoulder and whispers about how he’s going to be okay, and how every time he wakes up all he’ll see is Todoroki over him, and how the pain meds will be so strong that Zu-zu can hold his hand as tight as it takes for him to feel it and he can hold Zu-zu’s as tight as he likes, too.
How he loves him. How he misses his smile.
And then, he shouldn’t have to miss it anymore, because Izuku smiles for him, sloppily but it carries the same warmth and meaning. But with him cradling himself in the ruined mess of Deku, he can’t see it.
Sirens become louder, mangled with other sirens blasting in clusters.
Todoroki uses his buried position to keep Izuku’s head tilted at an angle that makes it easier for his airways to get oxygen, even if it’s being filled with blood, each second that even the smallest breath can get into that passageway means something.
He’ll stay with him when the ambulance nears, when they slide him onto the stretcher bed, when the pain hikes and Izuku fears he’ll lose himself for good.
He’ll stay with him when they take him into the operating theatre with such urgency that Todoroki doesn’t believe half a nano-second passed, and he’s grateful for that speed. And when he waits from the observation room, watching the never-ending mix of complex and simple procedures, just to be as close to Izuku as he can and now every second feels like a decade, ruling his every fibre with anxiety.
He’ll stay with him every night and day listening to the respirator breathing for his collapsed lungs, for every time he wakes in the night fear in his eyes after moving just slightly in his sleep.
He’ll stay with him when he wakes in the morning sun glowing on his face, that light hitting his teeth as he smiles big and perfect, when he tells Todoroki thank you, when he says he wants to wake up to Todoroki again without yet remembering he’s been waking up to see this face every time he fidgeted over the past three weeks, in an almost constant slumber.
He’ll stay with him when this happens again, and when he’s even more successful, when Todoroki allows himself to think and sees Endeavour’s carcass in the hero hospital morgue and he comes crashing into Izuku’s still wounded arms, crying tears of frustration.
As Izuku recovers slowly, they help each other cope. Todoroki talks about his father, his loss, and his scarring and Midoriya talks about his physical and emotional wounds, too.
He’ll always stay with him.