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Izuku arrives at his apartment late. He always comes back late now, his neighbors hardly ever see him anymore. Not that it ever bothers Izuku. Sir Nighteye has told him many times now that he should just get rid of the apartment and move into his mansion. It would make his work far easier, especially since Izuku usually stays up much later than Sir himself, finishing off the details of his projects and scheduling his appointments. But each time Izuku tells him he likes his apartment and doesn’t wish to part with it. Sir merely shakes his head, dropping the topic until the next time it’s brought up.
Izuku sighs, setting his bag down and locking the door behind him. The apartment itself is rather plain, save for the hundreds of books lining the bookshelves on each wall. But that’s not why he keeps the place. He keeps it for the bedroom, which despite the name does not contain a bed, or any other form of furniture.
Izuku pulls open the bedroom door, stepping carefully inside so not to crush his creations. Paper. That’s what the bedroom holds. Vast creations, constructed by paper and ink. Some pages ripped From his favourite books, some bare and folded into shapes to show their story rather than tell it, and some are handwritten pages, made by Izuku himself.
He has the entire Circus of Dreams mapped out into a three dimensional maze of pages. A cauldron with paper fire in the center, the tents spiralling around it like tendrils. Some carefully folded pages are tied to string, hanging from the ceiling. Some of the pages move gently, as if being pushed and pulled by a non-existent wind. Those are the tents that are putting on shows at that very moment.
It’s Izuku’s own personal Circus, and where he builds his tents and makes his moves in this game.
Izuku kneels down, grabbing the spare paper from the corner. He’d come up with the idea while with Sir and has been excitedly waiting to put it to paper, and subsequently bring it to life.
He’s so busy folding the pages, writing runes and lines along the surface, he nearly misses it. Izuku sucks in a breath, pausing his work to stare across his paper Circus. Shouto was creating something new. The paper flutters in place, folding in on itself and changing shape. Izuku stares, uncertain of what it was. The pages twist and curl, setting it’s roots in between the tents and shaping into a black tree.
Izuku set’s his creation aside, tiptoeing over to the new addition. He inspects it, but for all his muttering, he doesn’t know what it does. It just looks like a tree, but of course it couldn’t just be a tree. Shouto was far too impressive to use his magic to grow simple trees. No, Izuku muses, it must be something he has to see in person to understand.
Izuku tosses the extra paper and his half folded creation back in the corner. He needs to go see the Circus in person. He grabs his bag, pulling out Sir’s schedule. The Circus in no where near London, and Sir has plenty of work for Izuku to finish. He’ll have to force some time in the schedule. The Circus would be changing locations in two days, certainly he can make time then if he works hard for the next few days. Maybe a couple all-nighters. He may as well start now, since his curiosity will be keeping him up anyway.
“It’s the Wishing Tree.” Ochako says, three days later. She found him in the newest tent, gazing up at the large tree. It’s bark is black, twisted branches spread out. There are burning candles held safely in the branches, melting white wax into the bark. “You make a wish and light a candle on the flames of other wishes, then place it on a branch.”
Izuku doesn’t look up at her, fervently sketching in his note book. It was beautiful, a mere sketch couldn’t compare, but that’s all Izuku could take home with him. Ochako waits a few minutes before speaking up again.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Izuku still hasn’t looked up at her.
“I only came for the tree.” Izuku says. “I have to be back to work as soon as possible.”
Ochako nods, though only to herself. “I had wondered who made The Wishing Tree, but I suppose if you had to come in person, it was his.”
“Yes.” Izuku confirms. He gazes up at the tree. He can feel Shouto’s magic. It’s stronger the closer to the trunk he gets. He relishes in the feeling, the strength. It feels so much like his opponent, Izuku only wonders which candle is Shouto’s.
“Are you going to make a wish?” Ochako asks. Izuku turns to her, surprised by the question. He wonders if Shouto would notice if he did.
“No.” Izuku shakes his head. “I cannot make any changes to his creations. I can only make something better.”
“I see.” Ochako says, looking down. Now that she finally has his attention, it just makes her feel even more miserable when they only talk about the magician. “I think I’ll make one.”
“Please do.” Izuku smiles. He closes his book, stepping around the tree and heading to the exit. “I have to be going. I’ll write you the next time I come, hopefully then I’ll be able to spend more time.”
“Right.” Ochako watches him go. “It was nice to see you…”
Izuku tucks his book in his bag, glancing around the circus. It’s nearing morning, so the guests wandering the grounds are few. Not that it matters, none of them will remember her was there anyway, nor will they pay him any attention while he’s here.
“Midoriya.” A voice catches Izuku’s attention. He almost startles when he looks up to see the Contortionist standing around the corner, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
“Asui! Good to see you, sorry I was just on my way out!” Izuku smiles. His eyes fall to the tattoo’s littering the woman’s body. The runes both familiar and not. He wonders if that’s why she was able to spot him, but something keeps him from asking her.
“Who have you come for tonight? Ochako? Or Shouto?” Tsuyu asks, blunt as always.
“I’m sorry?” Izuku frowns. “I’m not here for anyone, I came for business.”
“I don’t much care for games and lies.” Tsuyu says, glowering at the man. “If you don’t love her, you shouldn’t play with her heart.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Izuku says, though he should, had he been paying even the slightest bit of attention. Tsuyu doesn’t say anything more. She stares at Izuku for a moment longer before turning and walking off, not a nod or a word of goodbye.
Izuku arrives back at his apartment not long after leaving the Circus. He steps into his bedroom, looking down at the small paper Wishing Tree. What would he have wished for if he could? If he could add something to Shouto’s strong magic. If he could make Shouto notice.
Izuku’s eyes fall on the Carousel. Shouto was allowed to collaborate. Though Izuku supposes it was different since Iida Tenya wasn’t playing the game. Maybe Izuku would collaborate with him as well. Maybe, he could find a loop hole in that. Maybe. Maybe Izuku could make something with Shouto, instead of against him.
___
Shouto wanders the Labyrinth for hours. He smiles as he walks through a hallway full of snow. It catches in his hair and on his clothes, and melts against his skin. It feels perfectly real. The door at the end of the hall is unlocked, he opens it an quickly has to duck to avoid knocking his head on a suspended book.
It takes him a while to locate the next door, but he’s in no rush. He finds it hidden in a shadowed corner, and makes a noise of surprise when his boots sink into soft sand. He looks up to find himself in a desert, the night sky above him and the white sand vast around him. He keeps his hand against the wall, guiding himself around the room that only appears vast, searching for his way out.
Of course, if he needs, he can always make his own way out, but Shouto rather likes being trapped in the rooms made by his destined one. He can feel their magic radiating in each room. It feels like a weight is lifted from his shoulders.
When Shouto returns to his room, he creates his own rooms, attaching them to doors. Every day the Labyrinth grows and twists. New doors are added, new choices, new rooms.
And at every free moment, Izuku finds himself in his bedroom, folding new rooms from paper. Connecting them to Shouto’s existing rooms and leaving space in his own for Shouto to add to.