Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shockwaves almost send Izuku flying, but he holds his ground and watches on with wide, burning eyes. All For One hasn’t moved from his position, but All Might is darting to and fro from all directions, trying to find a weak point in the villain’s stance. He either can’t find it, or there isn’t one, because this has been going on for quite some time and nothing has changed for the better.

“You’ve gotten weaker, All Might,” All For One taunts with a wry smile, hand reaching outwards and fingers splayed. “I’ll be honest, I’m disappointed. I was expecting at least an even match, but you’ve made my job too easy.”

All Might isn’t smiling anymore. His teeth are clenched tightly, and every blow seems harder than the last. And the effects each blow have lessen each time. The shockwaves aren’t as powerful now as they were before. Izuku doesn’t even have to try to regain his balance.

“Midoriya, let’s go,” Todoroki says, right beside him. “All Might can handle him, we need to get out of here and rejoin the others.”

No, no, no, he’s wrong. All Might can’t handle All For One. No one else can see through his confidence, no one else can see through his strength, but Izuku can. He’s known the hero long enough to know exactly what that look in his eyes means.

He’s losing. All Might, the symbol of peace, is losing.

“Midoriya!” Todoroki’s voice is sharper now. His hand squeezes Izuku’s elbow, then gives a harsh tug in the other direction. “Come on, snap out of it, we’ve gotta get out of his way. He can handle this, but we can’t be here.”

“He can’t handle this,” Izuku chokes, and his tongue feels too thick for his mouth and his voice is thick with tears.

Todoroki’s hand twitches against his skin. “Don’t say stuff like that, Midoriya,” he says, voice suddenly low. “We have to believe in him.”

Izuku does believe in him. He’s always believed in All Might. Yagi Toshinori. He’s always believed in his mentor and that’ll never, ever change.

But All Might is a human first and a hero second. Izuku knows that better than anyone. And humans aren’t indestructible.

As his mind races, grasps at straws, desperately fights for a solution, a thought strikes him. It’s not a new thought. He’s pondered it before. But it’s the first time he’s taken it seriously.

One For All cannot be forcefully taken. That was one of the first reassurances Izuku ever received from All Might in regards to this power. Unless Izuku wished it, no one except his future successor and the successors after that would ever hold this power. It was safe from the hands of villains, criminals, and even normal citizens who wanted nothing to do with the life of a hero.

And then there was the Quirk, All For One. A whole other ballgame of a Quirk. And Izuku, being the studious, curious person that he is, couldn’t help but wonder. All For One and One For All had come from the same person and are polar opposites in nature. So did that mean that the requirements and restrictions for passing on said power were polar opposites, too?

Izuku can’t see a better time to find out, because All Might can’t put a dent in All For One’s defense and there will never be a chance like this again. All Might is losing and if Izuku doesn’t move, now, even if it is on some kind of a hunch, then does he really deserve One For All in the first place?

“Midoriya—!”

Todoroki can’t reach out nearly fast enough to stop him. Izuku’s feet carry him, without his complete consent, forward towards the fray. One For All burns through his veins like venom, and he doesn’t think he’s ever moved this quickly in his life.

I don’t need to use All For One.

I don’t need to know how to use All For One.

All I have to do…

He grits his teeth. All For One has seen him, but his attention is focused on All Might and he can’t react in time.

… Is take it.

All For One thrusts out an arm towards him, but All Might is quicker, landing a solid punch to the villain’s skull and sending him backwards. All For One hits the ground on his feet and leaves crater-like skid marks in the dirt. There’s blood running down his temple.

“Stand down, Midoriya!” All Might barks at him, and his voice shakes. “Don’t get involved, I can handle this!”

Izuku ignores him and rockets forward. All Might’s shout of “Midoriya!” fades as he shoots out of range, towards the villain who’s caused so much pain and torment and death and destruction.

All For One sees him, but All Might’s attack disoriented him enough that he can’t react. Izuku grits his teeth, and in the back of his mind, he hears All Might’s voice shouting at him, Todoroki’s telling him to stay put, to stand down, but—

If this is what it takes… if this can save them… even if it destroys him…

Then I have to do it, don’t I?

He zips past All For One and snags just a smear of blood on his thumb.

His feet hit the ground and the momentum carries him backwards, but he doesn’t lose his balance. He skids to a halt and lifts his head, glaring into All For One’s face.

Something about the villain’s demeanor has changed. The atmosphere had been scary before, but now it’s worse. Now it’s real.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, boy,” All For One snaps at him. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Midoriya, stop!”

All Might is moving, but he isn’t fast enough. Izuku looks deeper at All For One’s face, thinks of his mentor’s wound, of Mandalay’s condition, Bakugou’s kidnapping, and all the victims he doesn’t know the names of, all the people with hopes and dreams and lives who had all of that viciously stripped away by the one called All For One.

By the Quirk called All For One.

“You’re wrong,” Izuku says with confidence he doesn’t have. All For One’s blood is hot on his fingertips. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Kid, don’t—!”

Izuku doesn’t remember actually ingesting the blood. He doesn’t remember bringing his fingers towards his lips.

But he must have, because the next thing he knows, his entire body is engulfed by shooting ribbons of pain. Fireworks explode through his sight. Lava cascades through his veins. Before he knows what’s happening, a shriek tears his throat as his body is torn apart, and every inch of him, every ounce of his being screams.

His hands come up to clutch his head, but it doesn’t stop. It’s an onslaught of fire and ice and poison beneath his skin. His muscles burn and ache and every bone feels ready to shatter like glass under the strain.

It’s not until moments later that he realizes All For One is screaming, too. But he’s kind of too preoccupied by the vicious pounding and tearing and scorching of his own body to think much of it.

He feels the ground splinter beneath him. Shockwaves do blast him off his feet this time, and he hits the ground rolling and tumbling until he finally comes to rest on his side. Every limb twists and burns and aches and for a suffocating second all he can think is I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.

There’s no rest from the chaos. He hits the ground, he breathes, and then it’s back for more, ripping and tearing and stabbing and god please stop, please stop, please stop, please stop stop stop stop stop stop—

It doesn’t stop. It gets worse. He feels All For One pour into him, he feels it settle in him and he feels his body reject it. He feels his mind spin and whirl and his head pounds with it. The onslaught of information, the onslaught of signals, the twisting and convulsing of his nerves and limbs and he can’t breathe—

He doesn’t remember it ending. It doesn’t really end. It gets to a level where he can look past it and he can breathe, but his body burns and his lungs won’t take in enough air and he can’t move—

“Midoriya! Midoriya!”

There are hands on his shoulders and the touch burns, but his throat is in ribbons by his screams and cries so he can’t even make the smallest noise of protest. He doesn’t even know who’s hands they are until he’s in their arms and their voice is clearer.

“Kid, kid, oh, kid, what have you done…”

It’s All Might.

It’s the first time Izuku has heard him sound so broken.

He wants to say something. Some kind of reassuring word just so his mentor knows that he’s okay but that’s the scary thing, he doesn’t know if he’s okay. He can’t say he’s okay because he doesn’t know.

He gets the smallest glimpse of his mentor’s face—feels the smallest droplet of something on his cheek—but that’s all he gets before his battered, abused body drags him down into the abyss.

It takes a long time for Izuku to realize he’s awake. And then it takes him an even longer time to realize that he’s actually alive.

Wherever he is, it’s dark and cold and he doesn’t like it, but the poison in his bloodstream has stilled and the pain is diluted. He can actually think coherently without feeling like his mind is being torn apart.

He cracks his eyes open and wouldn’t you know it, he’s in the hospital. His limbs are stiff and it still hurts so he doesn’t move, but he takes in his surroundings. The curtains are drawn over the window to blot out the moonlight; he makes out a bouquet of flowers on the side table, as well as an assortment of cards. He wants to read them, but seeing as how he can barely keep his eyes open, he doesn’t think he has the strength to actually reach over and then read one.

To experiment, he shifts, just a little—and of course the movement sends a sharp pain through his entire body. It rickochets off each limb, climbing higher and higher until his head pounds, but he grits his teeth and forces himself to sill. He’s bandaged all over, which might be where some of the stiffness had come from.

And… there’s a bandage over his left eye, too. How had he missed that?

For a while, he lies there and shuts his eye and doesn’t move.

But then, he hears movement beside him. A voice. “Midoriya? Kiddo?”

All Might.

Izuku chances it and looks. He has to turn his head, because his mentor is sitting to the left of him and that’s where his blind spot is, but, yeah, All Might is there. As “Toshinori,” though, not All Might. Izuku doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone look so drawn and exhausted.

He swallows down the lump in his throat. “T-Toshinori-s-san—”

Oh, his voice. His voice is awful.

Toshinori is off his stool and on his feet a second later, drawing closer. “Don’t talk, kid, okay?” he manages, but his voice is thick. He settles a hand on Izuku’s head softly, and Izuku can feel him tremble. “Just. Don’t talk. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He says it like he’s trying to reassure himself. Izuku doesn’t give up.

“T-Toshi, I-I… what…?”

“Midoriya, you took All For One’s Quirk,” Toshinori breathes, and he sounds disbelieving. In denial. “That’s what happened, kiddo, you took it and your body couldn’t handle it, kid, we… we talked about stuff like this, we talked about what your body can and can’t handle, Midoriya, why would you do that?”

Izuku doesn’t need a refresher. He knows exactly what he did. His question is what All For One actually did to him once the Quirk was in his system. He wants to know why he’s in the hospital, why he can’t move, why his eye is bandaged.

“T-Toshinori-san… I-I don’t…”

Toshinori seems to catch himself, because he takes in a long breath, lets it out, and shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, slowly and gently threading his fingers through Izuku’s hair, like he’s afraid of hurting him. “I’m… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have demanded that of you, I’m sorry.”

Izuku wants to tell him not to apologize, but words are already a challenge and he really, really wants to know what happened after… after that.

“H-How… h-how did I get here?”

Toshinori’s eyes flash with an emotion Izuku can’t catch in time, and instead of returning to his stool, he instead sits on the edge of the bed right beside him. “After you took All For One… he didn’t have anything left to fight with. I don’t know much about the Quirk All For One or what kind of ties it has with its Quirks, but it would seem when you took it, he lost all the things he’s stolen over the past hundreds of years. He was nothing but an ordinary man against me.”

Izuku swallows, but doesn’t speak, and Toshinori goes on;

“I took him out with one punch, and then—” Now, now he hesitates. His breath shakes on every inhale and exhale. “—And then I went to you.”

Izuku remembers, vaguely, but somehow all too clearly. He didn’t have a thought process back then, but his body certainly remembers it. Toshinori seems to remember it, too, because he has to take a second to compose himself before continuing.

“Kid, you were—I don’t know what it was, but you were seizing. Your body was tearing itself apart from the inside out, the doctors had to put you on a ventilator just to keep you breathing, and—and they just pulled you out of the ICU yesterday, kid, just yesterday.”

It occurs to him that he doesn’t really know what that means.

“H-How… how long was I… i-in there?”

Toshinori’s hand in his hair stills.

“... Three weeks. You were there for three weeks.”

Izuku knows it shouldn’t surprise him, but. Three weeks. Three weeks, hundreds of hours, thousands of minutes, each one spent with doctors fighting for his life and his friends and family—Toshinori, Mom, Todoroki, Iida, Uraraka, the rest of his classmates— terrified.

The ICU wasn’t something to take lightly. Being there for three weeks meant that Izuku was dying for three weeks. It meant that it was a literal life or death battle for three solid weeks.

Izuku can’t find the words to say, but he says the first thing that comes to mind as his eyes burn and his throat tightens and those words are, “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know whether or not he regrets taking All For One. He doesn’t know if that was the right thing to do. But he made people worry, he scared them even after he’d promised he’d do better, he promised he wouldn’t hurt himself like this again, he’d promised and then he’d went and done this and—

“Oh, c’mon, please, don’t cry. Don’t cry, kiddo, it’s okay—”

“It’s not okay,” Izuku strains, feeling strangled. “I-I said I’d be careful, I-I said I wouldn’t worry anyone else, I said I w-wouldn’t and I-I—”

“Kid, stop.”

Toshinori’s hand lands on his shoulder and squeezes. It hurts, but the pain is enough to snap Izuku out of his chant and he looks into Toshinori’s eyes.

“What you did was…” Toshinori stops, then shakes his head. “I can’t even tell you what it was. It goes far beyond reckless, it goes far beyond stupidity, but do not work yourself up about that right now. You’re one of the strongest people I know, Midoriya, headstrong and stubborn but—but right now your body can’t handle it. Right now you need to stop thinking about all that and start thinking about getting better.”

It takes Izuku a second to catch his breath, and an additional second to compose himself, but he manages a stiff, feverish nod. “T-That… t-that sounds like a good idea…”

Toshinori nods, lifting his hand from Izuku’s shoulder and instead resting it, lightly, on his bandaged forearm. “Yeah. You’ll be okay, kid. And, once your body has had the chance to rest, we can talk about everything. Just…”

“N-Not right now?” Izuku guesses.

Toshinori offers a weak, very weak smile and nods. “Yeah. Not right now.”

They will talk about it. They have to talk about it. But that’s tomorrow, that’s next week, next month, someday.

Right now, he listens to Toshinori. He lets his eye drift shut and he’s asleep in moments.

Chapter Text

“Ah, the doctor was afraid of this. You have a fever.” 

Izuku blinks dully at Toshinori as he withdraws his hand. It’s hard to make out in the dim light of the hospital room, but his brows are pinched and his eyes are concerned.

“What does that mean?” Izuku murmurs. His voice isn’t nearly as croaky as it was the first time he woke up, but the improvement isn’t marginal. He still sounds awful, and he knows it.  

"Hopefully not much," Toshinori says, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him. He's on Izuku's good side, thankfully, so he can actually see him. Toshinori reaches out, hesitates, then smooths his hair out of his face. "Though, it could be an infection. That's why the doctors are looking into it."

"I thought fevers were always because of infections…?"

"Sometimes Quirk overuse can trigger them as well. It's basically your body's way of saying it needs a break and is going to get one whether you like it or not."

Izuku cracks a small, tight smile. It does hurt, though not as much as before. That's good. "I hope it's just that, then."

Toshinori gives his bandaged, tube-laden hand a squeeze. "I hope so, too, kiddo."

It isn't. It's both. Infection and Quirk overuse. 

“It’s going to be hard to treat both at once,” the doctors tell Toshinori when Izuku is either unconscious or too out of it to listen. “Especially with his compromised state. His injuries haven’t had the time needed to heal, and at this point we can’t risk using something like Recovery Girl’s Quirk to kickstart that process. Any stamina he loses now could cost him. Dearly.” 

Toshinori’s stomach is in his throat for a different reason than usual. “What’s there to be done?” he asks, forcing himself to keep at least some shred of professionalism. “What can you do for him?” 

“We can give his body what it needs—fluids, nutrients, medications. And we can sedate him if the pain is too much to bear while he’s awake. But, unfortunately, that’s all we can do with his current state. We don’t want to force too much medication on him in case it backfires. We can’t take any unnecessary risks—which means we’re capping visitations.” 

Toshinori thought his spirit had hit rock bottom, but he was wrong. “You mean—so I—” 

“No, we need you here,” the doctor says sternly. “You’re the only person who knows how to deal with this ‘All For One’ business. If there’s anything you can tell us or any way you can help, we need you here.” 

It’s a relief in one way and a sinking feeling of despair in another, because Toshinori knows the nature of All For One and the nature of One For All, but is no more informed than the doctors. He doesn’t know what to do in the same way that they don’t know what to do. They’re all out of their element and Izuku is sick and hurt. 

The nature of One For All is to combine with and make stronger. 

The nature of All For One is to gather already strong resources and overwhelm.

Both exist simultaneously in Izuku, and they’re repelling each other like magnets. 

All For One is an abomination.

‘Is’ and not ‘was,’ because the person of All For One is in prison, locked away in a deep and secure place to never see the light of day again, but the Quirk of his namesake is very much here, very much overwhelming, and very much alive. 

Izuku dozes… kind of. Though, he isn’t sure he can call his unconscious state sleep. It’s a form of it, sure, but it isn’t sleep as he knows it, it isn’t a restful state of ease and mindlessness and dreams so fantastic that he woke up disappointed. 

This state of sleep is something more like an abyss. Only, if the abyss was made up of disembodied hands, digging fingernails into his skin and pulling him down, down, down into a darkness as deep as nightmare and permanent as death. 

He woke up, of course, but always felt like he left a chunk of him down there. Wherever ‘there’ was.

All For One is Frankenstein’s monster. An unholy amalgamation of cobbled Quirks, chunks of lives torn away before their time, holes ripped in the fabric of human existence by one selfish and twisted individual. Marbled. Melded. But without mending. When All For One crammed its Quirks into each other, there was nothing mending about it, just… disfiguring. Perverting. 

All For One is a curse. The person holding it is destined to lose their mind, to become a shell of the person they were and become a person they never could’ve imagined. The nature of the Quirk was to drive its host insane. One For All has its own set of voices, and sometimes they’re overwhelming and Izuku doesn’t know if he’s acting through instinct of himself or through instinct of the past wielders.  But All For One is such a concaving swell of voices that he can’t ever pick just one to listen to. 

“Hey, kid. Kid, are you with me?” 

He’s hauled out from the abyss by another voice, this one clear and concise and recognizable. He blinks his eyes open tiredly, hardly able to manage it for more than a moment or two. It’s dark around him, but the lights of the machines are so bright that it hurts, and he squints against them. His head pounds. His body aches. He isn’t sure which way is up and which way is down. 

“Kiddo, you there? Can you look at me?” 

Toshionori’s hand is on his forehead, comforting, but trembling. Izuku really doesn’t want to and he doesn’t know if he can, but he tries his damndest, cracking his eye open to meet the tired gaze of his mentor. Toshinori looks like he hasn’t slept in a week, eyes more sunken than usual and carrying more concern than Izuku’s ever seen. 

Toshinori’s shoulders droop as he heaves a sigh. “Oh, good, good,” he whispers, brushing Izuku’s hair out of his face. “Good. I was scared for a second, there, my boy.” 

“Sorry,” Izuku croaks, surprised he can speak at all. Everything’s too heavy, too dark, and too bright, with weights crushing his chest. “I… why…?” 

“Your fever keeps peaking,” Toshinori says. He’s abandoned his stool and is sitting beside him on the bed, wearing comfortable street clothes. “The doctors don’t know what to do right now. They’re trying a new medication.”

Izuku blinks at him again, slowly. “Is… Is it working…?” 

Toshinori bites his lip, stroking Izuku’s hair off his face. “We’re not sure yet. They’ll be back in a few hours to check up on you, see how it’s going.” 

Izuku nods shakily. His head pounds. It’s hard to look at Toshinori, with one eye bandaged and the other burning. He wishes it were brighter but he also wishes they could cut the power on those machines. The lights, coupled with the beeping and the impending anxiety they sing, leaves him sicker than before. 

“How do you feel?” Toshinori asks, speak-of-the-devil like he could hear Izuku’s thoughts. 

Izuku breathes in and out. It hurts. “Y’know. I… I’m not great.” 

Toshinori cracks a small smile at that and nods, smally. “Yeah. You really need to stop making a habit of this.”

Izuku tries to mimic the smile because this is the first sense of normal that he’s had since the incident, and even though it hurts, it’s worth the warmth it spreads in his chest. Toshinori brushes his hair from his head and settles his hand there. 

“Your fever is too high, though.” 

“It’s alright,” Izuku says, hoping he doesn’t sound as croaky as he feels. “I’ll be okay. Always am.” 

Toshinori chuckles again but it’s sad this time, and it kind of makes Izuku wish he hadn’t said anything at all. “Oh, my boy, what am I supposed to do with you?” 

Izuku doesn’t have an answer to that, and doesn’t have the chance to give one. He leans into Toshinori’s touch and drifts back down into the abyss. 

Izuku begins to call them The Voice. Because while there is not one voice, but hundreds of thousands, their words are the same. Their feelings are the same. Their hearts and minds are the same.

I didn’t want to die.  

I tried to fight back. 

I couldn’t do anything. 

I hate you.

Give it back.

Give me my life back.

Don’t take it.

Izuku is numb to it. The world around him already feels so stale, so cardboard, so fake, and he reaches out. Just like he always does. It feels normal somehow, the abyss of grasping hands and nails. But maybe that’s because he’s always diving headlong into darkness for the sake of others. 

He can only hear The Voice when he’s unconscious, asleep or otherwise indisposed. He can’t rest because it’s always there. The shrieking noise of lost souls crying out for justice. 

Izuku understands. He wants to show them that he understands. 

He drifts in and out of consciousness so much—Toshinori’s gentle, physical hands to the clawing, scared, more metaphorical ones of The Voice—that it’s hard to distinguish one from the other sometimes. And he doesn’t have enough time in either state of mind to do much of anything. 

But once, he goes under and he stays under. And he has time to sit with The Voice, still his heart, and listen. 

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know, he stopped responding—” 

“Get a doctor in here!”

Hello? Izuku calls into the void. I’m not trying to hurt you. I want to talk.

Liar, The Voice hisses back, hurt, scared, in pain. You’ve done nothing but lie for your entire life. Lie and twist and manipulate. It’s the only thing you’re good at, destroying. 

I know, Izuku says, trying to keep his mind steady. I know who you think I am. And I understand why you hate me. But I do want to help. I hate All For One too and I refuse to become like him. 

The Voice falls silent. 

… What is your name, Successor? 

Midoriya Izuku. 

“He isn’t responding!” 

Toshinori stands in the corner of the room with his shoulder blades pressed into the wall, fingernails sunk into the palms of his hands. They’d asked him to move and then told him to when he couldn’t react. There are too many doctors in this room and it’s one of those familiar scenes, a scene Toshinori himself has been through any number of times and he knows what it means, just—

It’s never been him on the opposite side of it, looking in. 

And Izuku is just a child. Barely sixteen years old. And he’s surrounded by scrambling doctors and hollering nurses and they keep bringing in more equipment, more machines, keep hooking up more wires and running more tests—

I did this. 

The words hit him like a landmine. He slides until he’s on the floor, fists still clenched and breath locked in his lungs. 

This is my fault. 

He begs and prays for anyone who’s listening to not take his boy away from him.

All For One is a power vacuum, The Voice says, more calming. For you to possess both this and One For All, its counter Quirk… you are going to struggle immensely. It might even be enough to kill you. 

I did it in the first place so nobody had to die, Izuku says back without hesitation. Both Quirks, All For One and One For All, I have because I wanted them, and because I’m going to use them to save as many people as I can.

The Voice seems to ponder this for a while. 

… We will help you, then, The Voice says, gentler than before. Reassuring. We will keep our voices to ourselves. We will keep you from straying, from becoming like him. We will have your back, Successor. Midoriya Izuku. We are on our side so long as you are on ours. 

Izuku’s eyes burn. 

Thank you.

Izuku jolts awake like he was electrocuted, breathing hard, sweating buckets. He chokes on something in the back of his throat and coughs harshly, chest curling and constricting in on him. His sight tunnels. He’s scared to pass out.

There’s a clatter beside him, a familiar voice forming a strangled yelp of his name. “Midoriya—!” And, hands rolling him onto his side by the shoulders, gentle thuds on his back. “Breathe, kid, breathe. You’ve gotta breathe.”

It’s hard, and Izuku chokes and coughs and heaves. He doesn’t want to pass out, even if The Voice and him are on good terms with each other. He just got back, and he’s scared of passing out and not being able to wake up. It’s the first time he’s been awake enough to be afraid.

“Izuku, it’s alright, it’s alright. I know I’m asking something hard of you, but I need you to calm down. You’re breathing too hard.” 

“I don’t w-wanna go,” Izuku manages, realizing only in hindsight he’s babbling. “I-I don’t wanna go, Toshino-nori—” 

“No one said you were going anywhere,” Toshinori says quickly but soothingly, stroking back his hair again. “You aren’t going anywhere, my boy, I promise.” 

It’s just reassuring enough, without being completely unbelievable, to loosen the coiled knots in his chest and stomach. He gasps in a desperate, heaving breath, lungs burning at the effort but also in relief, and Toshinori’s hand works circles into his back. 

“There we go, there. Good job, kiddo, good job. Keep breathing.” 

“T-Toshinori—” 

“Don’t try to talk, now. We’ll talk later.” 

Izuku’s breaths still come in as strangled nothings but at least now he’s breathing, and a bit more coherent than before. He’s drained and exhausted and everything in between and he still feels sick, but. But he’s awake now. And he’s awake with awareness that he hasn’t had in…

Oh, god, how long has it been? 

Izuku chokes on the bile in his throat and curves in on himself, shoulders hunched and knees pressed into his chest. Toshinori is beside him and has one hand on his shoulder, the other still on his back. 

“What’s wrong? Kid? Kiddo? Are you—” 

“They didn’t want to die,” Izuku chokes. His ribs feel like cracked glass, shards embedding in his skin and heart. “They d-didn’t want to die, Toshinori, tthey—” He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe— “Why… Why did he kill them? He didn’t have to kill—” 

Toshinori’s hands grip him tighter and suddenly, Izuku isn’t laying down anymore, and there are arms around his shoulders and his ear is pressed into Toshinori’s chest. He can hear both of their heartbeats; his own, fluttering and fast and Toshinori’s, sound and steady. He tries focusing on Toshinori’s, but it’s hard over the roaring ring in his ears. 

“I know,” Toshinori says, pressing him close. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Izuku.” 

“They didn’t have to die,” Izuku sobs, and it really sinks in now for him too. “Why did he have to—I d-don’t get it, why—” 

He knows Toshinori doesn’t have the answer. No one does. No one in their right mind could justify All For One’s actions, what he did, what he stood for. It isn’t a question to be answered as much as it is something to be heard. The Voice is gentle towards him now. Understanding. Maybe a bit wary, but trusting. 

They really were people just like him. People with lives and hopes and dreams and families and friends. People who had plans. People who had ambitions. People who wanted to live. People who didn’t want to die. 

It isn’t fair. 

They were people just like him and it isn’t fair. 

But he’s exhausted, drained, and now with a semblance of closure he can’t ignore it anymore. Toshinori is warm, and Izuku trusts him differently than he trusts everyone else. It isn’t hard to fall asleep in his arms.

He can only hear The Voice when he’s down under, and now that he’s asleep and made peace with him, it’s more soothing than scary, and they don’t bother him. It’s the first time he’s been able to genuinely sleep since he took All For One. 

He’s exhausted. So he sleeps.