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The room’s overbearance seemed to have come out of nowhere, but deep down Izuku knew that it had been building up for ages now.
He was running on autopilot when he shoved Class 3-A out of the way, not even knowing where he was going. All he knew was that he wanted to not be in the room, to be away from this ultimatum, to just get away from it all. From the coming final battle with Shigaraki, from Uraraka, from Shouto.
Because he knows that if he stays for a second longer he’ll only fuck everything up more, and to do that for just one more second makes Deku want to sob and bury his head in the ground.
They all tell him to stay, tell him it’s not his fault, but Midoriya knows better. Even Torino and Present Mic are asking him to but he knows the truth. He’s always been second class, he’s always been inferior, and they all say he isn’t but it’s a lie.
Why else would he have been born without a quirk? All Might gave him his One For All out of pity anyways. He didn’t fight tooth and nail, he snivelled and cried his way to the top, only to find at the summit that the mountain he climbed had already been hollowed out, and unlike those that came before him, he not only managed to be unable to refill its empty center, but instead turned the rickety foundations to ash.
Pathetic. You deserved that loss to Shigaraki in Odawara last month. The vindictive part of his brain spat as he feels the tears well in his eyes, emotions swing from self-hatred to vulnerability.
No, Deku thinks to himself. Not now. Not in front of him.
And then Ochako-sweet, innocent, kind Ochako grabs his arm, tears in her eyes, pleading with words that blend into this meaningless sludge of noise to just talk it out.
That it’s all going to be okay.
It’s not.
Izuku screams at her, his brain not even knowing what sort of verbal hate is flying out of his mouth. He screams and screams and screams, the welled up tears in his eyes making his entire vision seem like it’s filtered through a broken piece of glass. He doesn't even feel, doesn’t even understand what he’s doing to them. Empathy, once inscribed upon his heart, seems to have been torn out, leaving this void that desperately clings to others in an attempt to rip out the pieces of others to fill himself back up only to fail every single time.
In his hollow rage, he only catches a glimpse of her mocha brown eyes, blown wide in an alien emotion to her. Gods, Ochako didn’t deserve this. None of them did but him. He was supposed to defeat the League, he was supposed to help those who couldn’t help themselves, he was supposed to be the saviour of all.
And he failed to save every single one of them. He gets it, he knows how they look at him. They all think he doesn’t hear their whispers when he’s almost out the door of the planning room where they make strategy after strategy, each more outlandish than the last as they try so hard to fight against this unstoppable tide, to strike back, to claim sweet victory.
At first, he believed it, hell, he’d led them all after all! After every failed mission, Deku smiled and kept on the chipper facade. They were all counting on him to raise the spirits every time and make a grand pep talk that thinking back now, he suspected none of them truly bought into.
Sure, they’d thanked him and gave him smiles, but those were forced for him.
For him. People were doing things for him, to make him feel better. For gods’ sake, he was the new Symbol of Peace, nay, the Symbol of Hope.
What drives humanity is not tranquility, but optimism, Gran Torino had remarked to him.
Well, he’d managed to accomplish neither. For the man who was supposed to bring joy because of his presence, it was the exact opposite. He knew how victims felt when All Might had saved them, he’d studied and parsed through every last frame for his forsaken teacher after all!
Instead of being warm, gentle smiles that radiated the energy of a crescent moon in the peace of night, these were curved, sharp daggers that dug into his skin and engraved themselves in the deepest parts of him.
Even through the crystalline curtain painting the old mentor as a yellow indistinct blob in the background, he can still see him, still feel him. Why, why does he still feel for anyone or anything?
All he wants so fucking badly is to be numb and to sob until his ribcage feels hollow.
But yet, he could still feel. He could still sense all of them. Turning his eyes back to Uraraka, she’s not pleading with him anymore. From what he can see through the tear-clouded haze, the only part of her that even indicates she’s alive right now is the soft quiver of her lips, and the room is so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
For a second, Izuku just stops and appreciates the auditory solitude of it all.
She’ll learn. They all will soon once I’m-
And then she tries to make out some excuse in a shaky note, some defense that he knows she’s not sure if she believes anymore. Hell, he’s not even sure about what he believes anymore. Heroism? In this economy?
Izuku only shakes his head before pulling his gaze away from hers, green uprooted from brown the same way that a young tree gets ripped from the soil.
She begs him to stay, they all do except for Shouto because of course it would be him who says nothing, but it’s meaningless drivel at this point. Nothing would get him to remain.
Thus he throws the door open and walks out of the room, the shouts and cries of his classmates replaced by the clip-clop of his shoes upon the hallway as he makes his way towards the stairs.
He’s moving on autopilot at this point. Not thinking, not feeling (except he is), nothing and everything at the same time. His emotions are like the most brutal of thunderstorms that battered his home as a child, these brutal events that seemed to bring his world crashing down but were solely limited to him except that he knew they affected everybody but didn’t feel like they did.
At the end of it all, nobody truly understood anybody else. Hell, nobody would understand themselves. Sure his mother had-
Izuku winces, the brief flash of her snapping him out of the almost cozy recollection of a home that he pretends is still there. He lurches forwards, nearly collapsing on the stairs as he clings onto the sidebars for dear life, trying halfheartedly to hold back from retching up the meal he’d had a few days ago.
The bile bubbled in his throat and gods it burned. His legs hurt, his hands were trembling, and his chest felt so empty and yet he still felt there was no better way to end it all right there.
Izuku Midoriya, the last No. 1 hero died because he puked his guts out in a stairway in some run-down warehouse.
He allows himself a small mirthless chuckle at the thought of his gravestone if the villains even had the courtesy to give him one when they found the body.
Oh, who’s he kidding. Villains only give their hero opponents proper respect if they were a worthy adversary, and Deku? He was neither worthy nor even an adversary to Shigaraki. Adversaries were supposed to be somewhat balanced in strength at the very least, and his last showdown with the head of the League had shown that he very much was not that.
The ultimatum that Shigaraki had sent him wasn’t even a challenge against an equal rival, it was a disparaging note ordering Izuku to prostrate before him and surrender before the eyes of Japan if he still had a speck of bravery left in him.
A ray of moonlight shone directly into his eyes, and the quirk inheritor winced, squinting as he tilts his head upwards to find the source.
The ethereal glow came through the rundown window panes. Beyond it was the navy blue sky that covered all in the twilight zone between the witching hour and dawn.
Good to know that the concept of a biological clock is another thing I lack. He thought.
Through the glass, Izuku managed to spot a single bird, likely a seagull, flying in the gentle chill of the waning winter without a care in the world, taking graceful arcs throughout the air before soaring upwards.
Grimacing, Midoriya too pulled himself back on shaky feet, clinging onto the handlebar for dear life as he limped up the stairway, the vomit in his throat subsiding by the tiniest amount.
He didn’t know how long it took him to climb the rest of the way, the green-haired boy nearly collapsing onto the floor with every five steps or so. Every window he spotted on the way up still reflected the same dark indigo as before.
But still, he made it. With one last shove against the handlebars at the top of the stairwell, he lunged forward and despite the buckling of his knees, still managed to grab onto the doorknob for the entrance to the rooftop.
Twisting the knob, the door began to creak open as he pulled himself to his feet, his kneecaps still pulsing with faint pain.
The rooftop was everything.
Izuku drank in the sight of his surroundings and took a moment to breathe it all in. The soft chirping of the birds, the way the forest stretched on and eventually molded with the edge of the city, the way that Shigaraki’s citadel smouldered in the distance, smoke and fire visible from miles away...this feeling of syncretic disharmony made him want to bask in the natural glory of the fauna, and it would be so simple too if he just took another step closer, and another step closer, and another.
The edge seemed to be calling to him, seducing the young boy with its promise of eternal liberation. All he had to do was just take a few more steps forward and he could finally rest and bask in this natural peace.
Izuku took two more paces until he was right on the edge of the six-story building and staring at the ground below. His vision began to swim with vertigo, as though the trees were gently swaying him into trance to let go and join them.
It would be so easy, and for once in his life, Izuku just wanted it easy.
He took a penultimate moment to bask in how everything seemed to melt away but for his haggard breathing.
It would all be over soon.
Smiling to himself, Izuku prepared to put one foot in front of the other and finally end his-
“Wait.”
What?!
Izuku whirled around to see Shouto Todoroki standing at the door, panting from having bolted up the stairs from the looks of it.
“...Shouto?” The green-haired boy remarked. It wasn’t with spite, nor was it with welcome. It was just him.
It always was him.
Todoroki lifted his head, not bothering to catch his breath as he looked right at Izuku Midoriya and in that instant the world seems to freeze.
“Please, don’t.” Shouto pleads.
“Why shouldn’t I?” He asks. It’s a simple question that nobody’s ever been able to answer. Why shouldn’t he be selfish for once in his life? The world’s treated him like shit, he deserves to indulge for once.
“Because that’s not what the Izuku Midoriya I know would do.”
Izuku tilts his head to the side, an almost childlike gesture in nature, but from the way Shouto’s heterochromatic pupils are blown wide, the intention of the act was nothing but.
“Do you know me, Shouto? Do you?”
Todoroki recomposes himself, steeling his gaze again to bore it directly into Izuku’s shattered green.
“Yes. I do. And in some cases, better than you know yourself, actually.”
Midoriya lets out a chuckle at that.
“And what would possibly make you think that?”
Shouto raises his head high, taking a step towards Izuku.
“Because you knew me. That day, at the Sports Festival, you knew me.”
“And?” Izuku snorts nonchalantly. He doesn’t know why he’s acting so flippant all of a sudden, but the mood swing coming down from the high of his breakdown makes him want to be cruel, be cold, and lash out against all that’s wronged him. “That only proves that I figured you out first try. What does it say about you?”
“It says that I know you’re scared. I know you’re lashing out.” Todoroki throws down the gauntlet, and Midoriya’s eyes widen.
“And I’m...sorry for how much pressure we put you under. We should’ve known.”
The brief moment of warmth chills to a freezing cold once again.
“Should’ve known?! Shouto, we’ve all been classmates for three fucking years, how did you all not fucking know!” Izuku shouts and Shouto grimaces.
“Izuku, I’m so fucking sorry. I just-I TRIED, OKAY!”
It was Shouto’s turn to burn, and burn he did with licks of flame flaring up on the left side of his body.
“We put too much pressure on you. We fucked up, I fucked up. I’m not asking for an apology, I’m just begging you. Don’t. Please, we can move forward from this. Together.”
The dual quirk user’s hand is outstretched, and Midoriya’s hand twitches. He wants to take it, gods know he does, but he can’t.
“Do you know what it’s like? Knowing that the blood of thousands is on your hands? Knowing that you’re responsible for the death of your idol? Your teacher?”
Shouto stays silent this time, but his gaze doesn’t falter.
“Do you have any idea what it was like watching Tomura destroy UA?” Izuku’s voice drops to a low whisper. “It was my home, my refuge, the place where I found myself and the place where I...where I met all of you.”
Todoroki gulps.
“I was the last one out. Do you know what it was like there? Hearing the screams of those still trapped pleading to you to save them, to just save them?” The green-haired boy stared, his gaze unfocused.
“I was the last one to ever see Mr. Aizawa.”
The scene was still vivid in Izuku’s mind, the entire building’s foundations being gnawed away with the most atrocious of sounds seeming to come from all sides. The entire floor seemed to be sliding and dislocating as fires consumed the hallways.
And he remembers, gods, does he remember as he carries the last student on the floor towards the makeshift escape that the class had cooked up. He remembers the hallway behind him being consumed by flame, and he remembers that last, final groan from the classroom of 3-A.
“GO!” Aizawa yells to Midoriya as the latter spots all but his head and left arm trapped under some concrete beam, his eyes ordering for him to get himself and the unconscious girl on his shoulders out of the building now.
“NO!” Izuku shouts and nearly rushes towards his mentor before a block of flaming debris crashes through the ceiling and blocked most of the doorway to the classroom.
“Get out of here now, kid. It’s over.”
“I’M NOT LEAVING YOU! Heroes are supposed to save everybody and how can I even be a hero if I don’t do that?”
“Last lesson, Midoriya. Heroes can’t save everybody. All we can do is try.” Aizawa shoots him the first smile he’d ever seen in his two and a half years at UA.
The green-haired boy felt dizzy. It couldn't end like this.
He couldn't end like this.
“Besides, if you live past today, you’ll save many more people. What’s my life gonna be in comparison to the thousands you’ll rescue in the future?” His gray eyes sparkled with satisfaction, and if this was any other time Izuku would’ve been jumping for joy but not like this.
“Go, Midoriya. Make me and All Might proud.”
With that, Izuku wrestled the strength to tear his gaze from his teacher, bolted towards the hole in the side of the wall, and jumped for their lives as everything went black.
The green-haired boy shook his head, snapping out of the brief flashback.
“I...made him a promise. And I couldn’t keep it. I couldn’t even try and save everyone.”
It broke Shouto’s heart to see Izuku like this, broken and aimless and downcast. It wasn’t him.
Izuku lifted his head and stared, his eyes blank and glassy.
“Well, do you know?”
Shouto swallowed.
Don’t you fucking dare fuck this one up, Shouto Todoroki.
“I...don’t. I won’t pretend that I know what you’re feeling right now. I never will. But what I can do is share your burden.”
Izuku shook his head.
“There it is, again. You’re assuming I have a burden, that I have to be the Symbol of Hope. Always assuming, aren’t you, Shouto? Just go already. I don’t need saving. I’m supposed to be the one who saves all of you, aren’t I?”
His words felt like a thousand frosted claws stabbing at his heart and twisting at the strings. It would be so easy to turn away, to just grow cold again.
But he knew he couldn’t. He’d come too far since that fateful day when he awakened the neglected fire quirk in his arsenal. His flaming passion would not give in to the chill of isolation.
Not again. He thought, a plume of flame roaring to life in the palm of his hand.
“Izuku, do you know what I see when I’m with you?” He whispers, almost to himself. “I don’t see you as Deku, the great hero, or the Symbol of Hope, the axis upon which the world spins. I just see you. Izuku Midoriya. The kindest, bravest, and most beautiful boy I will ever see.”
His expression is unreadable, but Shouto detects a shift towards lighter emotions and dares to take another step forward.
“That’s what you’ve always been to me, ever since the Sports Festival. And I, well…”
Shouto fixes him with his heterochromatic gaze with all of its soft blue and gray hues.
“I think I knew since that day that I loved you.”
Izuku’s eyes widened and for a second a cold shiver ran down Shouto’s spine. Had he made a mistake? Was he only adding more pressure to him? Had he-
The shorter boy rushed forward into Shouto’s hastily outstretched arms and for a second nothing else matters to the two of them. The world itself seems to slow down for a moment and for the first time in hours Deku feels like he can breathe again.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last, and Izuku lifts his head from Todoroki’s chest, shattered green meeting blue and gray, and he knows he can trust Shouto. He has to let it all out now or he’ll explode, he’ll combust, and the dual quirk user is the only outlet where he can let go.
And so he does.
Izuku sobs and sobs and sobs, drawing ragged, irregular gasps for air in between, tears pouring from some source he thought had been completely expended minutes ago, all the while Shouto simply holds him and strokes his hair, whispering calm nothings into his ear. He’s the green leaves on the tree that refuses to be swept away by the roaring river.
The heterochromatic boy holds him just a bit tighter until the tide of tears crests and begins to fall.
“Ho-how am I supposed to beat them?” Izuku sobs out in between gasps. “They defeated us last time, sent us on the run! I just don’t k...kn...know if-”
Shouto softly takes Izuku’s chin, tilting it upwards as he brushes some strands of fallen spiky hair to the side.
“It’s not you who’s supposed to beat them, Izuku. It’s us.”
“But can we?” Izuku asks with lips quivering, his eyes practically begging for a yes. He’s shaking from the cold, Shouto thinks to himself, and holds him just a bit closer.
“We've had victories before but I just-” He sighed. “Be honest with me, Shouto.”
“Of course.”
“Do you think we can win against Shi-shigaraki and whatever arrangement he has planned for the world?”
Even Shouto has no answer and turns his gaze to the sky.
“Hell, why do we even fight,” Izuku mutters, further burying his head in Shouto’s embrace.
“Why do we fight.” Todoroki muses to himself, staring at the twinkling stars, as if wishing for the answer to be spelled out for him for once in his life. For things to be simple this once.
A plume of smoke in the distance floats up into his field of vision, startling him before he spots the origin.
From far away, the smouldering city of Tokyo seems to have been reignited, and for a second, Shouto has to choke down a sob.
“Izuku. Do you still remember why you wanted to become a hero?”
“To help others, but I just-I just don’t know how to now!" Izuku shouts and Todoroki's heart pangs.
"I...I'm just a broken mess, and there’s nobody left to teach me what to do, to guide me, to make sure I don't fuck it all up again." He sighs. "
“I just want that back.”
A tear rolls down Shouto’s face. Gods, what he’d give to put the formerly starry-eyed boy back together and see that thousand-kilowatt smile on his face again.
Thus, he musters a response he only hopes will satisfy.
“Izuku, they’re still there. All Might, Aizawa, even her. Every step you take is influenced by their teachings, every move you make has their indirect imprint, and I know that when we defeat the League of Villains, it will be because they were with you.”
“Do...do you genuinely think so?”
Shouto returns his gaze to Izuku’s and for the first time in forever, he sees just the tiniest spark of hope dancing within those green eyes.
“I know it is. You have no idea just how proud of you we all are, Izuku Midoriya. You aren’t just the leader of the resistance or the flag we rally around to rebuild society. To us?” Todoroki gestured his head towards the stairs leading down.
“You’re family. And family looks after each other, okay?” Todoroki sits down on the concrete, Izuku following his lead and resting his head in the taller boy’s lap.
“I just want somebody I can be truthful to.” Izuku murmured.
“You don’t have to bottle it all up. We’ll get through all of this together and we’ll beat Shigaraki together.”
They lay there in silence, Shouto taking in Izuku's broken perfection while the green-haired boy grew drowsier with each minute.
Until, at last, the dawn burst into all its blazing glory.
Beyond the city fighting for its life, the first rays painted the indigo shroud of night into a brightening azure as well as illuminating Izuku’s beautiful face.
The resilient boy was battered, bruised, but not broken, the orange light of daybreak illuminating a fragile halo that made it seem as though Izuku Midoriya was an angel who’d fallen to earth.
Those trademark freckles rose and fell on those adorable cheeks of his, reflecting his finally stabilizing breathing, and the dual quirk user breathed a sigh of relief to that.
Shouto pressed a gentle kiss to Midoriya’s forehead. He could feel the warmth of the sun upon Izuku’s scarred skin, his body slowly warming back up again after being bitten by the bitter chill of the night.
Thank god. Todoroki basked in the gentle glow of the morning, cracking a small smile as the siren song of sleep claimed him too.
Tomorrow, they’d fight for everything they loved.
But today, they’d rest and cherish it.