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Izuku’s first dead memory was when he was five years old. One of Kacchan’s friends had turned into a behemoth of a monster when he pushed Izuku into the dirt. One second it was a five-year-old child with pudgy red cheeks and brown eyes. The next moment Izuku was flooded with the memories of another life, another dream.
He saw a small village filled with wooden houses. He knew exactly which one was the baker’s house, the butcher’s house, his mother’s house. Everyone in the village had a name that Izuku could just put his finger on, and that included his attacker’s name. It was Ritzu he was the butcher’s son from the next town over. He was in the market looking for a thief, a sense of impending guilt washed over Izuku’s stomach as he hid behind buildings, carefully dodging out of the way.
The contact broke and Izuku went skidding across the pavement. Izuku was back in his own time, locking eyes with the attacker.
“You stole my horse,” the other boy blurted.
“You’re the butcher’s son! Wait, why did I steal your horse?”
“I don’t know, why did you steal my horse? ”
The two came to an awkward silence, trying to find the answer in the other’s eyes. The answer could have been right there if they just held out hands again, but the experience was so jarring that Izuku would have preferred not too.
Later that night he recalled the account with his mother, remembering the brief moment of an aged village and the neighboring butcher’s son. Apparently, Izuku had stolen a horse.
Inko laughed and laughed. She shared her first dead memory with Izuku about watching a Roman boy take a shit in the street before throwing it at her vegetable stand. Sometimes dead memories weren’t all too glamorous when they were dug up from the bowels of time.
It was years later in battle when Izuku experienced his second dead memory. He was carrying a young girl to safety away from a battle when the two were overwhelmed with memories. A small hole in her stockings and a burnt glove revealed more than Izuku cared to remember.
It was the bowels of London in the late 1700s. Izuku was an elderly woman with more than a penny to spare and a vacant soul. An elegant young man was calling out for his goods.
“Memories for sale,” the young man called out. “Memories for sale! A copper for a touch. Memories for sale!” Izuku had indulged, he had never seen a memory seller before and it was worth such a small coin. The two held hands and nothing had happened. They had never encountered each other before that life. But the man did not flinch, instead, he flipped back the coin with a wink.
“Pay me back in our next.”
Izuku blinked back to reality in the second he was gone. The little girl in his arms held out her hand with a serious expression.
“A deal’s a deal,” she whispered.
Izuku went back after the battle and gave her a hundred yen coin.
The third time Izuku had a dead memory was one night in the late spring. He was sitting in front of his best friend, Todoroki Shouto looking down at a pale palm. The two had been messing around on Shouto’s floor, scrolling through social media and discussing the latest hero scandals.
The hero Manuel was fighting a villain earlier that week when they touched hands and discovered that they had been married just over a hundred years ago. The fight had stopped altogether in an instant and the villain was taken to jail.
It was so scandalous to have to share your memories with others, but there was no other way to explain Manuel’s sudden win and his desire to escort the villain to jail. The two had a lot to talk about.
“It’s just so strange,” Izuku said, scrolling through his phone. “None of my memories were ever with people I was intimate with before, just a few strangers.”
“I’ve never touched anyone I’ve shared a life with,” Todorki confessed with a well-hidden blush.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’ve never had a shared life with my family and… I haven’t touched anyone else.”
The two sat in silence, their phones falling asleep.
“Would you like to try?” Izuku asked sitting up to look back at his best friend. Todoroki looked determined and frightened all at once. Todoroki looked serious.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Todoroki whispered, letting the darkness take the brunt of his words. “I’ve just never done it before and I… I want to try it with someone I trust.”
Izuku was honored that Shouto wanted to be his first. The two had grown close over the past few years, even moving in next to each other in the dorm halls. They were inseparable in their final year, constantly pairing up for training exercises and whispering in each other’s ears about going to the same hero agency. Their mailboxes were full of recruitment letters from similar agencies. Shouto just had one request of their future plans that Izuku accepted without a second thought, not Endeavor.
Izuku looked at Shouto’s open palm with curiosity. He had only ever seen his mother’s hands before. With the way the world tried to stay in the present, it was a rare and precious sight to see an open palm, let alone barred skin. The two were grateful to have never shared a past so they could focus on the here and now. Shouto’s hands were larger with dark brown calluses going across his palm and fingertips.
Izuku removed his gloves without a second thought, letting the thick polyester gloves fall next to him.
“What if we’ve never met before?” Izuku asked. “What if nothing happens?”
Shouto just shrugged in response, he had no clue. Likely, their shared relationship wouldn’t change. They’d still be best friends, just two friends with a shared past.
The moment that Izuku touched Shouto’s hands the two fell silent as the memories swarmed their minds.
Izuku was young, a bride on her wedding day. She had just turned 16 and her father had decided it was time to go to another house, someone more powerful and rich. Someone she had never met before. She was garbed in a deep crimson that was customary of her religion and her father was giving her hand over to her future husband. He had a kind looking face, dark earthen skin, and dimpled cheeks. The moment that their hands touched the world changed again and the two were lost in their memories.
Izuku was a soldier that worked hard for his position in the army. His life was difficult but good. He often sent his spare wages back to his sister and her family. He didn’t know what to do after the war. It was his best friend and fellow foot soldier that gave Izuku life. The two shared stories under the stars and hushed whispers of a friendship that could get them killed.
It was the last night of their leave and Izuku had to ask if Milo- Shouto- would stay away from the barracks for the night. Just one night. It didn’t take much convincing, especially when Milo’s lips tasted so sweet for their first kiss hidden behind a curtain.
Izuku was the same woman again, the one with too many coins and not enough things to spend them on. A new jeweler had opened his doors and Izuku was delighted to see what stones were for sale. A young woman stood behind the counter wiping away non-existent dust. Izuku pulled her aside and began to grill her on the wares in the store. She passed with flying colors.
It was an accident that caused them to touch. Izuku’s purse had fallen to the ground and the two both bent down to get it at the same time. They bumped heads for just a second but it was enough to transport them back in time.
Izuku was a widow with seven children sitting on his front porch. He was looking out over the grape vineyard that was his home when a young man came by. He was tall with dark blond hair and mismatched eyes. “Sir, I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but I’d heard from the next town over that you’re looking for farm hands.”
“Aye.”
“Well, may I work for you? I’m very strong and I need work to support myself.”
Izuku thought for a moment long and hard. All of his daughters were off with their husbands. Only two of his sons remained around the area and came to help with the harvest and the planting. Most of his fruits and vegetables were already planted earlier in the year. But he still needed help with the soil tilling and weeding.
“I can offer you twenty francs a week. Does that sound like a fair price?”
The young man nodded, walking up to Izuku and extending a hand.
“That sounds mighty fair to me,” the man said.
The two shook on their decision and were transported back again.
Again and again, Izuku and Shouto went back memory after memory. A town crier. A baker. A thief. A prince. A knight. A solider. Again and again, the two had met in each life they had ever lived, touching each other and gasping with delight.
It was eons previously when the two’s journey ended. It was a Neolithic era, deep in the bowels of their memories. Izuku was a young hunter, not 18 winters old. Shouto was a different hunter only 17 winters old. The two had known each other for years, hunting alongside each other, keeping watch on each other’s backs. Izuku was infatuated. Shouto was enamored. They were inseparable. They were in love. The first time they touched was such a passionate kiss that their souls imprinted on one another, melding into one whole soul. It that special kind of moment that you never forgot. A first kiss was always important.
When Izuku woke up only a minute had passed, and Izuku was lightheaded. A thousand first touches were still fresh in his mind. But something was different. Izuku wasn’t sitting up, gently caressing an open palm.
Izuku was lying on his back, his fingers running through soft hair, curling and, twisting. His eyes were closed, when before they had been open. There was something heavy on top of him, a dense weight that ran across his entire body. His lips-
Izuku gasped, pulling his partner in closer. This was Elliot the farm hand, or maybe Maliek his husband. Was is Alyssa the jeweler? Milo the solider? Puta his business partner? Edward his prince? Petra, Connor, Shita, Kut, Robin, Kisha, Shouto.
Shouto.
This was Shouto the hero. Shouto his friend.
Shouto.
Shouto pulled away from the kiss and blinked owlishly down at Izuku.
“Hi,” Shouto whispered, looking down at Izuku’s deep green eyes.
“Hey.” Izuku was flabbergasted at what he just remembered. Every life he’s ever lived he can remember as clearly as the days that he had died in those lives. Some lives were short. Some were long. But each one had a fateful encounter with Shouto.
“Is it always like this?” Shouto asked, still lying on top of Izuku.
“Never,” Izuku swore. “It’s usually only a second, just the first time we touch. But this… I remember every second we’ve ever been together. I didn’t think it was possible.”
Shouto grinned. “You remember that horse?”
“Oh my god, you always bring that up! You dared me to steal it!”
Izuku and Shouto both fell into each other with laughter. Izuku wrapped his arms around Shouto, letting his soulmate embrace him. How strange that just a minute ago he wondered if Shouto could ever return his feelings, but now they didn’t even need to say it. A thousand lifetimes had already screamed it enough for the message to be clear.
“I love you,” Shouto whispered, letting his head rest on Izuku’s chest.
“I love you too,” Izuku whispered back. “I always have, and I always will.”