Chapter Text
It was a cool night, the breeze off the ocean refreshingly sharp with a fresh kind of hope. This beach, Dagobah Beach, hadn’t seen a breeze like this in the years it was quietly used as a community dump, but now the trash was gone and the horizon was clear, giving Midoriya Izuku, the beach’s lone inhabitant, a perfect view of the moon rising over the waves.
Izuku sighed contentedly, sprawled out on the soft sand, dressed in his school’s gym uniform, his shoes discarded nearby. It was chilly out, but he’d just spent a good long while running on the shoreline, pushing himself just enough to allow the burn of his tired muscles to warm his entire body.
It was quiet here; people rarely visited the beach this late at night, especially during the cool spring months. The seabirds were nesting, the waves were calm, the very edge of the water lapping at his bare feet, and there was nothing to distract him from the peace of it all.
It was almost too peaceful, Izuku thought, though there was no real stress behind his musings. His spring break had been ordinary, at least compared to the constant struggles of his school life. It was also, embarrassingly, lonely. Sure, he could and did visit his friends almost whenever he wanted, but he’d gotten used to waking up to see a friendly face before class, sharing his meals with his classmates, and going to bed knowing that everyone was only a hallway away.
He thought idly about Iida, about Uraraka, if they were already asleep at—he checked his phone, stifling a yawn—2 in the morning. Probably.
He wondered if Todoroki was awake too, training just as hard as he was. He wondered if his friend was okay, being back home for a few weeks. Not like Izuku’d been able to see his house again, despite his internship at Endeavor’s agency.
He thought of Eri, still staying at UA with his teachers, and hoped she was having fun. He sometimes got pictures from Togata, if nothing else than to reassure Izuku that yes, everything was still fine, it’s only been a few days, and he would send pictures in return whenever Eri asked about him.
He briefly considered Kacchan, who had cut off communication from most of his classmates for the few weeks they were home and outright refused to see Izuku, despite gentle pestering on the train ride home, and the one visit Izuku made to the front of Kacchan’s house. Kacchan’s mother, obviously taking pity on the boy, had yelled at her son to “go see your friend!” and Kacchan had yelled right back that he was busy, he was training, didn’t she have anything better to do than try to get him out of the house, and Izuku, thoroughly intimidated and standing awkwardly by the closed front door, left in a hurry before the screaming match exploded into something physical.
That had been three days ago.
He’d tried to visit his childhood friend under what he thought was the peak of his loneliness, but now, only a weekend away from the start of the new semester, laying alone on a cold beach and thinking about his friends who shouldn’t be awake at this hour, he thought that he might be as lonely as he’d ever been.
Suddenly, the breeze didn’t seem quite so refreshing.
Izuku suppressed a shiver and turned his head away from the wind. He was still thumbing mindlessly at his phone, looking through chats and contacts and debating whether it was worth trying to bother anyone for a call. Really, no one should be awake right now. Maybe Tokoyami, if he was training Dark Shadow under the cover of night, but in that case he might not appreciate the distraction.
His finger paused over Kacchan’s name.
What if—?
Already hearing the harsh voice and harsher explosions in the back of his mind, he tapped the call button. As the phone rang, he had several thoughts, in quick succession and varying degrees of importance.
Kacchan’s going to kill me for this.
Maybe I can pass it off as an offer to train together. At 2 in the morning.
It kept ringing. Maybe he’s asleep.
He was already considering hanging up and pretending this never happened when the dial finally went to voicemail.
Definitely asleep, he decided, and let his phone flop on his stomach with another sigh. After a moment’s hesitation, he picked it up and typed out a quick message, then let it fall back to his side.
Sprawled out on the soft sand, watching the stars, exhausted from his intense run and finally coming down from that rush, Izuku realized just how tired he was.
It was surprisingly comfortable, and though it was chilly, the wind wasn’t bad if he laid flat on his back. He thought, briefly, that maybe he should get home first, but it couldn’t hurt just to look back up, one more time, to take in the calm sky with the sound of the waves and the gentle calls of the seabirds.
His head hit the sand and Izuku drifted off, sound asleep, dreaming of the ocean.
He was on a white sailboat, alone at sea. The sky was clear, no clouds in sight. No moon or sun to speak of. The waves were mirrors, sometimes showing his own face, sometimes showing the faces of those he knew. Once, he thought he saw someone he’d long lost, their face shifting incoherently, the only reminder that he knew them being the sharp knife of grief deep in his gut. He’d tried to reach out, to take their hand, to save them, but the water evaporated before he could touch, and he was left with nothing but regret.
Settling back on his sailboat, he watched, and waited.
An untold while later, a single cloud dusted the edge of the horizon. It was small but dark, and the closer he looked at it, the bigger it became, until it became a storm, thunder rolling viciously through the sky. The mirrors around him became more frantic, the figures blurred by his own panic and the downpour. The sail on his boat whipped about, tearing though the wind to swing him wildly through the waves, holding on for dear life.
The once clear view of the ocean darkened until his could hardly see the mast he’d wrapped himself around. He strained to see something, anything in the storm, and spotted a flash far from his little boat.
It was another mirror, bright and shining, the light spot in the chaos. He reached for it, willed the sailboat to find it, and as he drew closer saw that it was a figure stranded like the others, though their face was turned from him.
He tried to shout over the wind. He called to them, and heard an answer. He reached out, again.
The figure, the person in the mirror, finally looked his way. It was his own face, but something was wrong. It was him, but the Izuku in the mirror was in pain, reaching out to him, the one on the boat, mirroring the terror in his eyes. The mirrors close to him changed, shedding the figures of his friends and enemies to take on his own storm-soaked face.
The mirror in the distance, his light in the storm shattered, no longer a mirror but a furious wave, and yet Izuku could still see himself there in the water, now struggling to stay afloat, battered by the storm and gasping for help, for breath. He was too far away, he had to help, he had to save himself from drowning.
Izuku jumped from his sailboat into the depths of the angry waters below, desperately reaching out one more time.
Izuku woke with a start, jumping to his feet and shuddering as the freezing water lashed at his ankles. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but now somehow he was awake, some desperate, unknown need keeping his legs rigid and his shaking hands clenched into fists. He tried to adjust, tried to remember why he felt like he had been attacked, his head dizzy with adrenaline and the effort to stay standing.
His vision swam as he watched the horizon, and he swore he could see some dark shape in the water, reaching, fighting, just out of full sight.
He froze, his head cleared, the shaking briefly quelled. Someone was drowning.
His legs moved before he could think. The shape was gone now, but he knew what he saw and was determined to save him—was determined to save whoever it was. Leaving his clothes on but his shoes and phone behind, Izuku dove into the waves without hesitation and swam, Full Cowl, to where he thought he’d seen hi—them last.
He wouldn’t fail this time.