Chapter Text
Things happened so fast, it all still feels a bit like a dream. Or rather, a nightmare.
Before anyone knew it, a new quirk had emerged; a quirk no one could have predicted would exist. Its limits were unknown, but so far, it seemed rather limitless. The only consequence seemed to be to the holder of the quirk itself. You see, the quirk was something like from out of a movie. Zombification. And the holder happened to become the first of many. It had to have taken at least a decade before the quirk took action; they were probably considered quirkless before. Until they weren’t, because they were a zombie spreading a soon-to-be apocalyptic disease of sorts.
That, perhaps, wasn’t even the worst part. When a zombie turns someone, the zombie injects a virus that modifies DNA, specifically, quirks. The virus passes on the zombie’s quirk and adapts to the bitten person’s quirk which is then passed on again, creating something like a quirk chain. Thus, there were suddenly zombies wielding quirks haphazardly on the once peaceful streets protected by heroes.
It was like a movie, except it was all real, and shoved itself painfully into existence until everyone was suffering for it. Even heroes had been bitten.
The media didn’t know much, but they did know this: things were looking bad, for everyone. There didn’t seem to be a way to stop the spread. All anyone could do was wait with bated breath, and survive.
Izuku was just a quirkless nobody, so maybe it wasn’t any surprise that he was completely useless in the face of all these issues. He, like every other regular, everyday citizen, had to be rescued and brought to a shelter with his mother. And suddenly, his dream of becoming a hero, applying to Yuuei, seemed that much farther out of reach. Not that it mattered anymore now. UA wasn’t running any longer, and no new heroes were being made. There was no law keeping people from using their quirks, either, since there was no way to regulate any of that, nor was it necessary. People needed to protect themselves after all.
But Izuku couldn’t do anything but wait. He was quirkless, so no one would let him leave to try and rescue other people. He couldn’t even protect himself, let alone another human being. Why would they?
Maybe he was a little bitter about the whole thing. He had always dreamed of being a hero, quirk or no quirk. He wanted to help people. And now he was being told that he could do nothing but sit around and wait for someone else to save him, rely on everyone else to do all the work for him.
He wanted to help, but the only person he could help right now was his mother, and the only way he could do that was by staying put so she wouldn’t worry.
Even so…
“Izuku, sweetie? Come away from the window, dear. It could be dangerous,” his mother called. That was another thing; everyone treated him like he was made of glass now. He couldn’t really blame his mom, she always worried, now more than ever, and for good reason. But he could still do something. Couldn’t he?
He sighed quietly to himself, pulling himself away from the dusty sill of the shelter overlooking the empty streets. “Coming,” he replied, shuffling his way over to the old couch his mom was settled on.
She glanced over to meet his gaze once he was settled, offering him a nervous smile.
“Do you want anything to eat? The hero in charge of our shelter came by earlier with crates of non-perishables. We won’t need to worry about food for a while!” She tried her best to sound upbeat, for his sake, he knew, but he could still hear that same shaky undertone she had kept since the start of the crisis. It was a little disheartening, not that he’d let her know that. She was trying her best, after all. He returned her smile absentmindedly, turning his head to glance around the room instead.
“No, I’m fine. I ate a little while ago.”
She tossed him a worried look, he noticed, but he was also caught up in his own apprehensions.
For instance: Kacchan. He had completely disappeared ever since the apocalypse was first announced. Izuku thought perhaps they had just evacuated first, but that never seemed to be the Bakugou’s kind of style. He thought they’d wait until the heroes forcefully ripped them from the house… Or maybe that was a little over the top.
Sure, he and Kacchan had stopped getting along ever since he was first announced to be quirkless. But he couldn’t help but be a bit concerned for his former friend, regardless. They were practically neighbors, after all.
Then there was just the question of: What now? They couldn’t leave the shelter. They probably wouldn’t be able to for a long time yet. What would become of them? What if something happened to the heroes providing for them, or they ran out of nearby resources? What if the zombies found their hiding place, and overran them? It was assumed this shelter would be temporary, sure, but how long could they go on like this? What if something happened while they were traveling? What if… There were so many unknown factors, and yet Izuku wasn’t allowed to concern himself with any of it, because he was quirkless.
He really hated being born quirkless, sometimes.
But he was used to being treated differently because of the circumstances of his birth. Now was no different. So he could suck it up, and act like every other civilian. Sit tight and wait with his mother. That part wasn’t so bad, at least.
Still, he worried.
--
The days passed slowly and quickly all at once. Sometimes one day would drag on for ages, and then the next few would pass in a flash.
Their hero hadn’t come back in a while. He could see the others residing in the shelter with them getting antsy, and he couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same way. Their food store was running low. Usually, the hero in charge of a shelter would check in every few days at the very least, often bringing supplies of any kind for their benefit.
Their hero hadn’t returned for two weeks.
Those with the strongest quirks had begun venturing out around the shelter for resources and news, but so far, no one had found much in the way of necessities, and no news, good or bad.
Izuku was getting restless.
The more time passed, the more panic stirred between those in the shelter. The fear was practically tangible in the air.
He didn’t want to wait anymore.
They needed any help they could get, and Izuku was willing. He was healthy and able, even without a quirk.
He was sure his housemates wouldn’t complain anymore, in a situation as dire as this.
The only thing really deterring him was his mother.
He had already started packing some things. He wouldn’t be gone long, in all probability; he was just scouting like all the rest, but he needed some supplies, all the same. And weapons, due to his lack of a quirk. He just had to figure out a way to breach the topic with his mom.
Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately for him, she beat him to the punch.
“Izuku, could I talk to you for a moment?” She was sitting on the couch as usual, her hands resting on her knees as she watched him approach with a thoughtful look that made him shift anxiously.
“W-what is it?” Try as he might, he couldn’t quite meet her eyes, and settled for some point next to her head.
She sighed. “Izuku… I know you want to help. I can only guess as to what you might be up to. Maybe I’m overthinking things, but… You’re planning on going out there, aren’t you?” She watched his reaction with blatant concern, and he tried not to flinch at how dead on she really was. Of course his mom could tell. She always could, even when she didn’t have all day to watch for his tics.
His silence was answer enough.
“Oh, Izuku…” Her face crumpled like wet paper as she teared up, and Izuku desperately searched for some way to remedy the situation. He didn’t want her to find out like this… But then, would there even be a better way? At least he could comfort her through the fallout, right?
“Do you really have to do this? The adults could handle things out there. They have people with strong quirks looking for the hero right now, and more resources!” She tried to reason.
“Yes, but we’re stilling running low. They could use any help available, don’t you think? I know I can be useful in some way. Even without a quirk, I can help,” he stated, trying to remain firm despite his own eyes prickling warningly.
“I don’t want you out there,” she returned, more decisively, maybe in response to his own defiance.
“This is what I want,” he says, softly, and that must be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, because his mother suddenly bursts into tears and embraces him tightly. He returns it just as desperately, soaking up the contact for all it’s worth.
Maybe it’s dramatic, but… Nowadays, things are always uncertain. Even if it’s just a short patrol, he can never know when things might go wrong. Maybe his mom knows this too, because she clings to him for dear life.
They stay close for a long while after that, happily held for comfort needed on both ends, until his mother breaks the silence.
“Do you promise to be safe?” The question dawns on him slowly, but when it does, his responding smile practically glows with his anticipation.
“Yes!” She holds him tighter for a moment, a little squeeze, before she finally lets him go, tears still glistening in her eyes. She looks like a mess, honestly, with bright-red cheeks streaked with tears and bloodshot eyes, but Izuku knows he can’t look much better. He did his own fair share of crying.
“Then I guess I can’t stop you,” she says solemnly, looking as though she’d rather be saying anything else. Her reluctance makes him hesitant, but he knows that nothing could stop him from doing what he can to help, so he remains steadfast.
“Thank you, mom. I’ll do my best, and I’ll come back. I promise,” he answers softly, and he knows he’ll do anything to keep his word.
Shortly after the news airs, a hero comes by to evacuate them. Katsuki would have stayed behind and blown up any zombies that dared come to his door, but one stern talking-to from his father and several slaps on the back of his head from his mother later finds him shoving clothes into a bag, scowling all the while. The hero looks increasingly on edge as his mother, upon inspecting his bag, shoves him toward the bathroom and tells him with several expletives to pack his toothbrush. On principle, he flips her off in return.
When they finish packing the hero walks with them to the streets. They are nearly empty--no cars or pedestrians and completely silent save for the sound of feet dragging against the ground. Katsuki spots several shapes--zombies--meandering down the street, tripping over their own feet with their arms hanging limply. He would laugh, and nearly does, until he sees their faces.
Their skin, pale dead flesh dark with rot, stretches over their bones so that every angle of their face is visible. Their eyes bulge, red and bloodshot and unfocused. Their hair has bald spots as if it had fallen out in clumps. Their mouths, caked with dried blood, widen grotesquely as the zombies take notice of Katsuki, his parents, and the hero, revealing bloody teeth.
“Shit,” the hero curses under his breath as he positions himself in front of the family. Katsuki whips around as more feet scuff the pavement behind him. The zombies nearly grinn and Katsuki becomes incredibly aware of his lunch roiling in his stomach as he takes in the cracked and bloody lips and teeth. He shifts his feet and pushes sweat through his palms.
The zombies rush them. He can hear the hero grunting as he slams a zombie into the pavement. Katsuki looks back to the zombies in front of him to see his father blow the hands off of one and his mother kicking one in the chest. He nearly winces as he hears bone crack and rushes forward to blow a zombie’s head off. It drops to the ground, fingers still grasping and the mouth still gaping, and begins to climb to its feet when he kicks it back down and unleashes enough explosions to make a smoking hole in the pavement.
Satisfied, he turns to his next victim. The hero behind him curses as he knocks a flailing zombie back. “Go to the shelter! I'll take care of things here and catch up with you. It's not far--just go down this street and you'll see it!”
His mother knocks another one away and drags him and his father through the charred zombie remains, only pausing once to knock in the skull of one that had gotten too close. They rush down the street and hear groans as more zombies emerge from alleys and side streets.
He sees the shelter ahead--easily the largest building around. They pour on speed and nearly make it to the shelter doors when his father stops to fend off the mob behind them. The door opens a crack and a face peeked out, ushering them inside.
“Masaru, come on!” His mother screams as she shoves Katsuki through the door despite his curses. He’s about to rush back out there--his father is fending off zombies and his mother is holding the door open with all her strength while the hero at the door struggles to close it--when his father screams as a zombie tears into his arm.
The people inside the shelter shift nervously. The man at the door simply pulls at the door with an even greater urgency. His mother screams at him to help. He’s a hero--there are heroes here--and he’s doing nothing.
Katsuki erupts, hands alight and a feral look on his face--they were going to die here and the hero’s doing nothing--he snarls at the man and very nearly blows him from his post with an explosion. He shoulders the man out of the way and launches himself through the doorway. His mother is silent and still, a look of horror on her face. He follows her gaze. His father stands amidst the zombies, glasses askew, clothes torn, and blood dripping from the bites on his arms and legs. His eyes are unfocused and he slumps sideways. His mouth opens into an inhuman grin.
“Mom, come on!” He yells, yanking her inside. The zombie that was his father grabs at her arm and shocks her enough to pull away, her arm slippery with glycerin. The other zombies pile through the door.
The people behind him scream and run for the other exit. “Katsuki, go,” his mother begs as she shoves him, unwilling, towards the mass of fleeing people. He growls and grabs her wrist, and, with an explosion, both of them barrel through the crowd. He knocks over several people and more people behind him trip. He loses his grip on her, only hearing her yell “Get out of here, Katsuki!” before he can no longer see her, lost beneath the wave of people and the encroaching zombies. He grimaces and looks up.
He examines the shelter even as he is pushed along with the crowd. High ceilings, barred windows, and only two exits--and zombies were currently flooding through one of them. Luckily for him--he could simply make another exit. He launches himself into the air despite it knocking down the people around him and maneuvers his way to the ceiling. Despite keeping himself in the air for a few more moments and desperately scanning the crowd, he can’t spot the shock of blond hair he is looking for. Even though all he wants to do was get closer for a better look, he forces himself away-- she’s gone , he doesn’t want to believe--and blows open a hole in the ceiling. He grabs the crumbling edge and pulls himself up. The air is full of people screaming and zombies snarling and the drumbeat of frantic footsteps. People rush through the streets surrounding them, banging on doors or hunkering down with people with defensive quirks or using their quirks to fight the zombies or flee faster.
He sits and swings his legs over the edge. He sees some of the zombies crush limbs with their grip and move faster than should be possible or stretch their bodies into shapes and some with extra limbs--an amalgamation of quirks that seems to tear down the body even as they chase after fleeing people. His stomach churns at the sight of several zombies almost directly below him--and the screaming. A woman screams, almost directly below him, but it’s the sound of teeth chomping that has him leaning on his elbows and emptying his stomach.
He should save her--he wants to be a hero, this is what he’s always wanted to do, what he needs to and is entitled to--but his limbs are locked in place at the thought, and he shivers despite the warm air, and he curls into himself until long past the screams stopped wringing wetness from his eyes and bringing bile up his throat and his limbs stopped refusing to move.
Katsuki risks a glance over the edge. They are still there--but there is one more now, a woman, with bites taken from her scratched arms. He pulls back from the edge and heaves up what remains in his stomach before risking another look. They are just standing there--and he realizes. They can’t get up here.
He turns away from the edge to stare at the concrete. He will be safe here. He moves, across the roof, upwind of the mess his emptied stomach had made, and lays there. He stares across the horizon and doesn’t sleep.
The morning of his first patrol, Izuku is up at dawn and wide-awake. The first patrols leave around this time, but he's not set to go until closer to noon, when the sun is high in the sky and visibility is at its highest. So unfortunately, since going back to sleep didn't seem to be an option (already his body was restless to be moving), he had a lot of time and not many ways to burn it. He supposed he could triple check he had everything.
He probably would've taken the dawn patrol had it been his choice alone, but he had to compromise a little with his mom. Thus, the arguably safest part of the day, noon; the zombies seemed to prefer darker atmospheres, whether due to the heat or light, or something else. Even if his mom agreed to let him go, she didn't want him out long; before dusk, definitely. He supposed it was only fair. He was happy just being able to get out and help at all.
And maybe, while he was out there, he could keep an eye out for Kacchan too.
--
Time seemed to inch along toward noon, and he was sure everyone could see how antsy he was to leave. He couldn't decipher any disdain on their faces, so that was a plus. His mom was throwing him mildly exasperated looks, but at least she didn't seem upset.
Finally, the last patroller arrived, and everyone began gathering their things to head out. Izuku followed their lead, glancing once again toward his mother.
While he was eager, she looked like she'd been dreading this time, and now she met his gaze with a worried smile, closing the distance between them and holding him tight.
"Be safe, dear," she murmured, and he nodded as she released him to join the others, offering a short wave.
"I'm off!" He couldn't quite hold back the excited smile spreading across his face.
--
Everyone on patrol split up at a certain distance away from the shelter to cover their respective assigned areas. Today, Izuku had one of the closest to the shelter, not that he expected much different. It was his first day here, and more of a test run. They probably would have tried to assign him a buddy if they weren't already so short on help, and he reassured them he'd be fine alone. Their numbers were dwindling by the day. Izuku tried not to ponder that too long.
Keeping an eye out for the hero of their shelter, supplies, and Kacchan, he wandered the broken cityscape.
--
Things were largely uneventful. The sun was beginning to set, turning the sky a light orange, and dusk would approach soon enough. He resigned himself to turning back and returning to the shelter, empty-handed and useless. No sightings to map patrols, no necessities, no Kacchan.
'You knew it would be like this,' he berated himself, 'Why did you hope for anything different?'
He dragged his feet, admittedly, as he turned around and headed in the direction of the shelter. He entered every house he could find on the way in hopes of something, but they had all been cleared.
There were only a few more viable places to search ahead when he finally stumbled upon something.
The biggest house of the lot loomed above him, and he only hesitated a brief moment before entering.
While it felt a bit wrong to break in and look through someone's belongings for necessities, it was unlikely the owner would return, and they were in the midst of an apocalypse. Law was only fragments now.
And finally, he found supplies; useful supplies that weren't already bad or used up. Perhaps, if he had thought on it more in hindsight, things would have went better. But he had been rash, stubbornly seeking some way to prove he could help from the start. To prove that he wouldn't just be a burden, just because he was quirkless.
Scanning the cupboards yielded quite a few canned goods and the drawers had loads of batteries, some still unopened. He vaguely wondered what happened to the family that lived here to make them leave everything, without even grabbing essentials.
Probably nothing good, he decided grimly.
He packed away anything useful in his backpack with what he brought with him, and shuffled out the door when there was nothing more to be found, still feeling a bit sheepish about the whole thing. It didn't feel very heroic to steal from an abandoned house, but desperate times, desperate measures.
And he couldn't help but feel satisfied with his loot in the end. Supplies were hard to come by, and he found some on his first trip out! Even if the rest of his patrol had yielded nothing, he finally had something to make it all worth it, to prove he was capable of helping.
He grinned to himself, gripping the straps on his bag tight in excitement. With this, everyone in the shelter would be able to hold on for a little longer, even without a hero protecting them. Every bit counted, and now Izuku was contributing, too. He could help.
Caught up in his thoughts, he only realized the predicament he'd stumbled into when a loud clank sounded behind him, from an alleyway he'd just passed.
He'd imagined that... Right?
A low gargle reached his ears, closer than the sound before it and very much inhuman. And definitely not his imagination.
Clasping his hands to his mouth, he just barely managed to muffle a squeak into his fingers. What should he do? Zombies could be independent, should probably be independent depending on their quirk, but they were known to travel in packs, especially in this area, and no wonder no one had found the supplies in this house before, it was probably a zombie nest that he'd just stumbled into, he was so stupid-!
A hiss cut off his mumbling and coaxed him into action as he broke off into a dead sprint, the pounding of his shoes on the asphalt sounding much too loud in the deadly quiet.
And then he heard them. Over the roaring of panic in his ears and the pounding of his heart, faintly and growing louder by the second, the moans and groans on zombies aware of their prey and moving in.
He was in so much trouble..!
He couldn't just lead them to the shelter! If they came after him, he'd put everyone in danger!
What were his options? What could he do in a situation like this?
He had to try and hide. To do that, he had to escape the immediate area. He didn't think he'd been seen, but that didn't matter. Already, he could hear the creatures, awareness of his presence creeping over them all like a wave. Once they all realized and found his position, it was over.
Scanning his surroundings, he gulped at the lack of viable choices.
Well, he hoped that he could still climb okay.
--
Scaling the pipe was more of an ordeal than it had the right to be. Already it was a rickety old thing, and though Izuku didn't weigh much, the way it swayed and creaked under his weight was nerve wracking.
He almost lost his grip several times, and every time he slid he had to resist the urge to make some sort of noise.
By the time he reached the top of the building, he was sweating and shaking with residual anxiety. And the building he had run to was rather small, especially in comparison to the house with all the goods, which didn't really help his confidence, in himself or this plan.
As far as he knew, zombies didn't have to motor abilities needed to scale a building, but they could have a quirk. And that would be all that was needed to make his plan crumble to pieces.
But they could only use their quirks to get to him if they knew exactly where he was, and as far as he knew, they didn't. They sensed something, sure, but nothing had seen him, and that was enough for now.
The next stages were going to be the hardest to pull off, though.
After catching his breath, he slowly rose to his feet and crept to the edge where he had first heard the noise, peering over the side. He needed to see what he was up against.
He bit his lip to stifle his instinctive reaction, but he couldn't quite keep back a small gasp. He trembled when it caused a stir, but thankfully, nothing thought to look up.
There was more than just one zombie in that alleyway now, probably attracted by the noise, and he was sure the only reason he hadn't been attacked as soon as he passed was because of the leftover carnage in the back. He swallowed back the nausea creeping up his throat.
It looked like the splattered remains of a human.
Then again, the zombies didn't look much better in comparison.
But whatever caused that had to have a dangerous quirk. Not to mention the overwhelming numbers down there, distracted as they were by devouring the mess on the walls...
He pulled himself away from the sight as quickly as he dared, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists to avoid reacting. His insides twisted threateningly, and he was slightly surprised he hadn't already vomited. Then again, he really couldn't afford to.
When he had regained some of his bearings-- at least enough so that the threat of puking up his guts outright had left-- he pulled himself up and toward the other side of the roof, away from the zombies and toward the shelter.
He just had to leave. Quietly. And not fall. Easy enough.
Izuku had never tried parkour before, but there was a first for everything, he supposed. He could do with less risks, though.
He should probably be panicking more, he thought briefly, but brushed away the thought. It's not like freaking out would help him. It'd probably just get him caught.
It'd also probably be better if he was just a little more worried about jumping off a roof, though.
He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath of courage, an image of All Might in mind's eye. Okay.
He ran, and-
Took a leap of faith.
When Katsuki moves beyond the confines of the shelter that should have protected them, it is only because of the painful feeling gripping at his stomach. He leaves the building behind, the hole in the roof still smoking and charred black.
He keeps to the rooftops to be safe. From what he gathers, the zombies can, to some extent, track by smell like particularly ineffective bloodhounds, and look up even less than humans do, and he feels more at ease in a more open area that he can easily maneuver in.
He targets a relatively intact house, with only the door ajar as a sign that something is amiss. Katsuki does reconnaissance through the windows before daring to enter. The first thing that hits him is the smell--rotting flesh and a cloying metallic scent that congeals on his tongue and makes him want to rinse his mouth. A quick search labels the house as thankfully zombie-free.
The child’s room upstairs holds only a backpack that he can use. He dumps its contents on the kid’s bed and slings it over his shoulder. The remaining rooms upstairs hold nothing of value. The kitchen downstairs holds water bottles and pantry goods. He stuffs those and a can opener and some utensils in the backpack and helps himself to the leftover katsudon in the fridge and tries very hard to ignore the coagulated crimson spotting the floor.
At a passing thought, he feels for the phone in his back pocket that has miraculously survived, and takes a phone charger with him. Kids these days, his mom would say to Inko as he and Deku remained engrossed in their respective devices. He shakes the dangerous thoughts from his head and makes his way to the rooftop.
A safe distance above the ground, he takes stock of everything he’s grabbed. There’s enough for a few days, but he breaks into a different house, steals another backpack, and robs their pantry anyway. He has nothing else to do with his time and it’s best not to think about anything, lest his thoughts wander again.
He turns in the direction he came from and blasts his way over the rooftops to where he stashed his other bag. He hears a blast and feels a wave of heat wash over his back. He can barely make out the crackle of flames and the sound of collapsing buildings. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blazing ring surrounding a large traditional-style house. If he strains, he can just barely make out screeching noises that cut off abruptly. The heat turns to a chill that has him shivering when ice washes over the the flames. He doesn’t turn even when the resulting explosion from the abrupt temperature change sends more heat in his direction.
His landing was anything but graceful. He flopped against the side of the next building over, which left him breathless and scrambling for a grip on the side. He then began a slow slide backwards, away from salvation and toward his sure demise. Panicking and flailing, he desperately tried to grasp for some kind of ledge to hang on to. He scraped his fingers on the concrete until they bled, but he finally found the edge and clung to it tightly. His clumsy landing knocked the air from his lungs, but he managed to hang on for dear life and avoid a deadly fall, so all was (mostly) well.
He waited for his body to regain some of the air that it had lost from his pointless panicking and horrid jump before attempting to lift himself over the edge. Luckily, it wasn't too much of an endeavor after his practice with the pipe.
Then he flopped bonelessly on the hard roof and just lay there under the sky for a brief moment. He made it. He didn't die. It was almost more than he expected. There was just one problem.
There was still more jumping to be done before he got close enough to the shelter to get down.
"Uuuugghhh..." He moaned in frustration, throwing an arm over his eyes and wishing not for the first time he were more athletic if he couldn't have a quirk to help him out. That was fault of his own, though. He had plenty of chances to get in shape and chose not to anyway.
He only allowed himself a brief reprieve, worried that the zombies may have heard his clumsy stunt and decided to have a look. If any found their way to the roof, he was done for.
Gingerly brushing the grit from his hands and hissing as they jarred the new cuts on his fingers and palms, he rose to his feet and measured the distance to the next building with his eyes. It looked about the same distance as the last, maybe even less. Hopefully this time, he could manage a better landing.
Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he took a few steps back for his running start. Then, racing across stone, he jumped.
This time, he managed to land with his feet on the building, and only fell to his knees so he wouldn't lose his balance the other way and tumble to his death.
Right, he could do this. Two more to go.
The next jumps go as smooth as could be expected, (he almost slips on the last and dies but what else is new today, really) and salvation is in sight. He never thought he'd be so happy to see the shelter, but he really is. This patrol has been an ordeal. But he still has his backpack, and he's not injured, and so help him he was going to make it back before dusk and put all this behind him.
There's still a little disconnect between his thoughts and emotions, but he has the feeling that it's better that way for now, lest he have a panic attack in the middle of a zombie infested wasteland.
Yeah, better not think of that.
He searches for some sort of way down, anything really, but of course he's not that lucky. What a surprise. There's no handy pipe or ledge to scale, just brick, and a window sill here and there. When he looks hard enough, there's also some border around the door jutting out just enough to grip.
And that's it. Those are his tools for getting down. Somehow, he's got to make it work.
Izuku isn't exactly the picture of confidence, and right now he'd probably be hyperventilating after all if the rest of him cared a little more right now. As it is, all he wants to do is be down and out.
Maybe it's thanks to that, but he finds himself moments later at the bottom and almost doesn't remember how he got there.
Spacing out like this is going to get you killed, he reminds himself, and promptly slaps himself on both sides of his face. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't really help.
With a sigh, he begins the rest of the trip home in the eerie silence of the streets, and tries not to feel the bubbling anxiety trying to escape from the lid on his emotions. Tries, except his best is never enough, so his fears surface anyway.
If he looks over his shoulder every few seconds or so, well, it's not like there's anyone watching.
--
He doesn't realize how tense he's really been, probably ever since he first heard that zombie in the alleyway, until he reaches his temporary home and sees his mom.
Almost immediately, all the tension bleeds out of him, and his stiff posture loosens.
Unfortunately, this means that all his repressed feelings hit him at once with the force of a semi truck, and he barely suppresses a freak out on the spot.
It wasn't that bad, he chants inwardly, until the chaotic storm in his chest settles enough for him to breathe. There's no need to panic. I'm safe.
He doesn't notice his mom has rushed up to him and has been holding him in her arms until she sobs his name, running a hand through his messy curls.
"Izuku..."
He doesn't realize he's been shaking with a hand cupped over his mouth until his mom brings him back to reality. Carefully, slowly, he returns the hug, tenderly wrapping his arms around her back and burying his face in her shoulder.
"Mom," he breathes, and he almost can't believe he made it without anything happening. What started out so exciting now seems a little more frightening. Not that he's going to back down, but it's given him a reality check. Most importantly: "I'm back."
"I was so worried," she whispers, nuzzling her cheek against his hair and giving him a little squeeze. She doesn't release him from the hug, and he doesn't want her to. But he has to put away the supplies he found, and people are probably staring, and they're in the way...
He cries a little, but his mother is right there crying along with him, and somehow, that helps.
When he (finally, reluctantly) pulls away slightly, his mom lets him go and sets her hands on his shoulders.
"Honey, are you going out there again?" She stares at him with unadulterated concern, and he can't quite meet her gaze, but he nods stubbornly. Smile through the fear, like All Might. He's terrified, but he's more terrified that people could be dying, people he knows, and he could have done something to stop it. Something could happen, and he would be useless. He needs this, to help.
And, well, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
He knows she's still not any happier to hear it. But because it's what he wants (not necessarily what makes him happy, she realizes, which is why she really doesn't want to do this) that she sighs only once, and nods back in understanding.
"Okay," she murmurs, and that's the end of it. Then she's hustling him further in to get cleaned up and take stock, and he's so grateful for the distraction that he doesn't end up running to his room until someone that was on patrol mentions zombies and his stomach churns. In the end, he still has to excuse himself to his room.
He only panics a little bit. He's getting better at controlling it, at least. He needs to if he wants to be- not a hero, not anymore, but just useful in some way.
Back against the door to ground him, he grits his teeth and weathers the storm, and when it's over he cleans his face of tears and tries to look presentable for dinner.
When the food's ready and he exits his room reluctantly, he's pleasantly surprised. Everyone congratulates him on collecting some necessities when they're starting to grow scarce, and luckily don't ask where he found them. When it grows overwhelming, it must show on his face because they scatter soon after with parting praise. He's not sure what to think, but his face is sure to be glowing red at this point, and his chest flutters warmly. Overall, it's not a bad feeling.
He eats, and sits with his mom (they avoid the conversation of his patrol), and then he goes to bed early. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep, but he's gone as soon as his head hits the pillow.