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He feels...peace.
And it’s an odd kind of peace, one he isn’t familiar with. It’s not the type of peace he’s used to—like the kind of peace he gets when he finishes a test and is proud of the results. Or even like the peace he has when he flops on his bed at night to sleep.
It’s a different kind of peace—almost like an eternal peace. One that’s soft but heavy, a real something he can feel like a weight on his chest. It isn’t uncomfortable, isn’t painful, just…
...Peace.
Unlike anything he’s ever felt before.
He hears thoughts that aren’t his, a calm that doesn’t doesn’t belong to him. He’s in a body that isn’t his own, hearing thoughts, feeling things, feeling…
Hey, kiddo.
It’s a voice he knows.
...You can hear this, can’t you?
He hears and feels soft, broken laughter, though it cuts off quickly.
I remember you telling me you could, a long time ago...I’m not sure if it still works, after everything, but...if it does, my boy, I...I want you to listen to me.
He feels comfort and contentment, but also yearning, longing, because he wants to say this in person, he really, really wants to say this in person, but...but…
I’m proud of you, Izuku. I’m proud of you, I’m proud of who you are, who you’ve been, how much you’ve grown. I’m proud of your accomplishments, your strength, and I’m...honestly...I’m still in shock, kiddo. Everything you are...everything you’ve grown to be…
I’m proud of you.
And I know you’re insecure, even now, after all this time. And I know you don’t always feel like a hero, like you’re good enough, but, I want to remind you, and I don’t want you to forget.
He feels himself slipping, but he forces himself to stay here, because if he doesn’t say this now he won’t have another chance to.
I want you to remember that I’m proud of you. That I wouldn’t even so much as consider going back and changing anything. I chose you to succeed me, but you went above and beyond my expectations every time.
And I know you’ll keep doing that, too. You’ll be ten times the hero I ever was. Your heart, your spirit, just the person of you…
Izuku…
...My boy…
...A day has never once passed, when I wasn’t proud to call you my successor.
And that day will never come.
Shouto finds him on the cliffside of Dagobah beach, standing and facing the horizon. He’s in front of a the shrine that’s been there since they were high schoolers. The shrine Izuku set up for the spirits he summoned.
The general public has long since taken notice of the shrine, and it’s become a memorial for several people; there are always bundles of flowers, sometimes a message or two in a bottle, sometimes smaller stones with small engravings on them, words like thank you and I won’t forget and remember.
Izuku is here as the sun sets beyond the horizon and Shouto approaches steadily. Izuku’s hair is blowing in the light breeze, eyes set on the engravings on the shrine in which he’d made many years ago.
Shouto steels himself, takes in a breath, then crosses the final distance between him and his long-since friend.
Izuku acknowledges his presence with a small tilt of his head in Shouto’s direction, but then they’re both looking at the horizon again, not at each other. Beyond.
“...Are you okay?” Shouto asks at long last, when the silence stretches and he feels as though he should break it.
Izuku looks down at the shrine, then shakes his head, bringing up a hand to wipe at his eyes. “I-I will be,” he says breathlessly, “I-I will be, j-just...not right now.”
Shouto nods stiffly. It’s been all over the news—the public is holding an enormous ceremony for the passing of the Symbol of Peace. Shouto is sure Izuku knows about it, although he isn’t positive he’ll attend.
“I’m...going to say something,” Izuku says, like he’d read Shouto’s thoughts. “W-When the ceremony comes, I-I’m...I’m going to say something. It...it just feels right, you know?”
Izuku exhales deeply, then nods again. “If I’m able,” he says, “I think I might have a thing or two to say, too. Toshinori-san, he...he did so much for all of us. It doesn’t seem right to just…”
“...Let him go?”
Izuku exhales again, sharply this time. “Yeah. Something like that.”
There’s a long moment in which the only sound is that of the wind rushing over them and the waves crashing below.
“...I’m not letting him go.”
Shouto turns to Izuku. Izuku doesn’t look back at him, but there are tears rolling down his face.
“He’s gone now,” Izuku says, tears glistening in the light of the setting sun, “and...I can’t talk to him, in my head. I can’t summon him. W-Which means…” He takes in a long, ragged breath. “W-Which means he went in peace.”
Shouto doesn’t say anything. Izuku takes in a breath and goes on.
“A-And I know...I-I know nothing is going to bring him back, b-but...I-I’m not letting him go. N-No matter how much time passes...n-no matter how many years, I-I’m…”
Both his hands move, coming to clutch his chest.
“I’m holding onto him,” Izuku chokes, voice finally breaking. “I-I’m holding onto whatever I can.”
There’s a lump in Shouto’s throat, and even as his own eyes burn, he holds his arms out to Izuku, and Izuku welcomes the embrace with as much ferocity as a drowning person would grasp a liferaft.
They stay there until the sun sets, then just a little bit longer.
In the end, he never broke his promise. The promise he’d made to the ex-holders, when he said goodbye and swore he’d live a fulfilling life. He’d lived one. He became the symbol of hope in All Might’s stead, grew and matured into the hero the world needed.
He’d survived it. He’d survived everything, just like he said.
And when his time came, he accepted it.
But it doesn’t end there.
He found himself in a white landscape with the body of a much younger him—the him who’d stood up to All For One, the him who’d said goodbye to the ex-holders. The him who’d survived through it all.
He lifts his head, and across from him in the white stands Toshinori.
Izuku’s breath gets stuck in his throat, but Toshinori smiles gently at him and spreads his arms wide.
Izuku doesn’t wait. He sprints, nearly trips and falls at least five times over, then finally dives into Toshinori’s arms. Toshinori embraces him tightly, and tears slide down their cheeks.
“You waited?” Izuku chokes out, a teary but genuine smile upturning the corners of his mouth.
Toshinori squeezes him a little bit tighter and nods. “Of course I did. I’m proud of you, Izuku. I’ll always be proud of you.”
Izuku releases a breathy laugh and hugs him tighter.
When they’re ready, they move forward into the light together.