Chapter Text
Izuku wished he could go back to the time when all that mattered were heroes and All Might figurines. A time when his worries were small, unimportant to the rest of the world and all he had to worry about was being back home before dark.
There would be no villains that succeed.
No monsters haunting the back of his eyelids.
Everything would be calm once more.
Unlike now.
If he could go back to playing Heroes VS Villains with Kacchan and all the neighborhood boys, he would. He'd play the villain a million times over again if it meant that he could go back home at the end of the day to his mother, light exhaustion burrowing into his bones and dirt and grass stains on his clothes. He'd go back to his bruises being from rough children and tripping over his own feet rather than the beginning of a war no one was prepared for.
He'd go back to the times when he wanted to be a hero if only he could.
But Izuku knew how that would end. He lived through it the first time.
A simple game would turn into torment and cuts and bruises that he'd count and cry over in silence and isolation.
Going back home would not bring him peace, only anxiety. How was he supposed to hide burn marks on his skin from his mother? How was he supposed to explain that he wasn't tired because he was playing with his friends but running from bullies and tiny explosions?
How was he supposed to explain the suspiciously red stains on his shirt?
Izuku had always wanted to play the hero, wanted to be as great and strong as All Might, even if he didn't have a quirk. He was smart; he was resourceful. Surely, he could find a way. He could be a hero if he tried his best, if he fought tooth and nail and gave everything he had.
And he gave everything he had.
He'd given it all and was left with nothing.
Yet, he was still forced to play the villain.
Funny how things never changed.
No matter how many people he'd helped, had taken blows for, he'd never actually be a hero.
Izuku Midoriya was never meant for such things.
But now things finally seemed to be looking up. The doctors 'fixed' him, temporarily or not. He would be attending U.A., in the hero course even, and he'd be surrounded be heroes-in-training, all the new friends he made along the way, and so many amazing heroes. He reunited with his mother, his father was behind bars, he made up with Todoroki and Aizawa, and Kacchan finally seemed to be on a path to redemption, even if Izuku wasn't sure he could forgive everything the boy had done yet.
He was away from the villains; he'd been saved.
Everything seemed so perfect.
At least, from an outside perspective.
Izuku knew the truth.
He was just playing another game of Heroes VS Villains.
The only difference was that the game didn't end just because the sun set.
Izuku had always played the villain during games like these; what was one more time in the grand scheme of things?
What was one more lie? One more betrayal? One more broken promise? What was another life stolen or crushed or ruined?
(Izuku didn't like this game anymore. He wanted to quit.)
But orders were orders and Izuku couldn't disobey. He was a good Nomu, and good Nomu always listened to directions.
His heart was heavy in his chest as he sat on the park bench, shade from a nearby tree drowning out the sunlight. He absentmindedly fiddled with the bracelet wrapped around his wrist as he waited. He'd been waiting a long time already.
(Izuku was so, so tired of waiting.)
He didn't react when a man cloaked in shadows and ash and nightmares of blue flames flopped on the bench beside him, silent and brooding.
He didn't react when the silence dragged on for several moments, peaceful in ways that it shouldn't have been. It was all a façade, but Izuku found that even false blankets of peace worked wonders for those naïve enough to believe in it.
"It's a shame really," the man spoke, his voice raspy and tainted with smoke. Izuku didn't look his way, just watched a small group of children, maybe six or seven years old, chasing each other through the park. Their laughter echoed in his eardrums, but the joy did nothing to ease the dull ache in his heart. "I guess you never did manage to cut your strings properly, huh, Puppet?"
Izuku hummed out a noise that was neither agreement nor a negative.
"Shigaraki's Broken Toy," he mused, more to himself than to Izuku. His words were dripping with a sickly sweetness that made the boy's teeth rot in his mouth from beside the man. His baggy clothes rustled softly as he crossed his lanky arms over his chest. "What do you have for me?"
Izuku's hands froze from where they were messing around with his tracker. "They're sending me to U.A., 1-A actually," he stated, monotonous in ways that he never thought he could be. It was like a black hole had opened up inside of him, tearing away at his insides until all that was left was a hollow husk. Maybe that's all he'd ever been since he woke up in the doctor's lab. "Just like Sensei wanted."
The man huffed out a wheezing laugh, but Izuku could find no humor in this situation. Irony, sure, but no, not humor.
(Izuku wished this all was some sort of twisted joke.
It wasn't.)
"At least one of us got exactly what we wanted, right?" the older one murmured, amusement curling his stapled lips upward a fraction or two. Izuku imagined that, if he could, he'd be grinning from ear to ear. "No one's suspicious of you yet?"
Izuku shook his head. "If they were, they would have thrown me in Tartarus without a second thought."
"And you'd deserve it."
The boy made another noise in the back of his throat as a reply.
The person beside Izuku made to stand, his joints and staples creaking with every movement. "You really are a problem child, huh, Izuku Midoriya."
It wasn't a question, and they both knew it.
It was obvious though, wasn't it? Izuku would always be a problem. His existence was formed from stolen parts and greed. It only made sense that it'd end the same way.
(Izuku wanted everything to just stop.)
Izuku was left alone after that, still sitting on that quiet park bench, watching children playing games and falling and laughing without a care in the world. He was content to watch a little while longer, but the sun was going down, and it would be dark soon.
Izuku had to go back to a home that would never actually be home now, not while he was going behind everyone's back. Not while he was a monster dressed in a victim's clothing.
He should've been used to it now.
He'd always played the villain in these sorts of games.
He knew better than anyone that villains didn't get happy endings.
(Izuku would end up just like all the others, he was sure.)
Still, Izuku was back at his mother's apartment before darkness settled in the horizon as though nothing had happened and the world wasn't crumbling (or being built anew) beneath his feet.
He still had orders to follow after all.