Chapter Text
Fumikage is a creature of darkness.
He is not ashamed of the fact; darkness is the lot that life has chosen to give him, and he would rather relish in the abyss than let the cruel mistress of fate hang over his head. In a way, he is grateful for the dark – it gives him a rather different viewpoint of being a hero than most of his classmates could ever hope to achieve.
That being said, the darkness is not Fumikage’s friend.
It’s in the dark that discipline slides and rage and fear are let loose.
It’s in the dark that friends are lost and enemies gained.
It’s in the dark that barbarity and madness thrive.
Fumikage may be a creature of darkness, but darkness is not the friend of anyone who chooses to avoid malice and seeks to make a positive change in a desolate world.
Fumikage learned long ago, however, that just because he chooses to stop the dark from quenching the bright, human spot of light, hope, and kindness, doesn’t imply that others choose to nurture that precious spark, too. He knows now that the terms villain and hero, dark and light, black and white, are too absolute. He knows that the world isn’t a dichotomy of tones but a masterpiece of greys. He knows that, for all the pretty words that authority figures say, there are even uglier ones hidden behind the scenes.
Fumikage is intimately familiar with those ugly words, the words shouted from the mouths of those who choose to abandon the brotherhood of mortality and give themselves over to the abyss.
Monster, they say.
Aberration, they whisper.
Evil.
Mad.
A freak of nature.
Sometimes, Fumikage has to resist the urge to tell them that, even with his bird head and his strange quirk, the true freak of nature is the one who denies the fraternity of humanity.
Fumikage has never had friends, but he is also never alone. Contrary to what most people seem to think, he is not a loner by choice or even a loner at all.
People forgot that Fumikage is never alone. Not with Dark Shadow.
At times, he will admit that he doesn’t know if Dark Shadow actually counts as company or not. He doesn’t know if Dark Shadow is a being, a spirit, a demon, what have you. All he knows is that Dark Shadow is there to keep him company, even if he would really rather have some alone time. Even if he really would rather just hang out with actual people his age that share some actual goals and ideas with him.
Dark Shadow, however, can make it hard to make friends. Those who are unacquainted with the abyss tend to look at his quirk and shy away from the inherent differentness of it.
Things have been different since he came to UA, however. Here, he has met others with unique quirks that ostracize them from society. Here, he has found others who have stared into the abyss and fought their way out. Here, he has met others that have known darkness but have chosen light.
He has friends now. Actual friends that he fights for and that fight for him. People who don’t care about his macabre decorating style or antiquated manner of speech.
Unfortunately, the presence of light doesn’t automatically negate the influence of darkness.
He hears the whispers.
Hey, I remember that kid from the Sports Festival! His quirk is kind of scary, isn’t it?
Yeah, I know what you mean. Is it even possible to control a quirk like that?
Admittedly, Dark Shadow is hard to master, but Fumikage finds himself a bit offended by the slight of an implied lack of self-discipline.
What an ugly kid! Only a mother could love a head like that!
And he’s short to boot! What a poor draw from the genetic lottery.
Fumikage long ago decided to work with the gothic aesthetic instead of against it, and he enjoys it. But still, he fails to understand the emphasis placed upon physical allure rather than things that actually matter.
That kid’s destined to be a villain.
Now, that’s the one.
That’s the one that gets under Fumikage’s skin and ruffles his feathers.
As if destiny is a one-way street. As if the world is a dichotomy of good and bad. As if the concept of personal agency and accountability is nothing more than a pretty name. As if who you are doesn’t matter as long as you walk the path that fate has so lovingly placed before you.
Fumikage hates that one.
He hates that one, because he knows it’s not true.
People who think so deny responsibility for their actions. The only truly miserable people in this dark and twisted world are those who refuse to acknowledge the power and nobility of the ability to choose and foist the consequences of their actions upon whomever or whatever they deem a fitting guardian for their most human characteristic, submitting themselves completely to the dull animal within.
There’s always a choice. You can always choose. Fumikage is intimately acquainted with the concept.
He’s stared into the abyss, and he’s chosen to walk away.
Every time that someone is intentionally cruel to another being, Fumikage feels the Pang.
The Pang is a sensation that even he doesn’t understand. He feels it when bullies go off on their victims. He feels it when people are discriminated against because of their quirk. He feels it when humans are abandoned or degraded.
The Pang is strong. It’s a burning in his chest, a tightening in his throat. It’s suffocating, it’s repressive, it’s damaging.
Though Fumikage feels the Pang every time he witnesses true injustice, the actions of those who say you can’t choose, the blackness that people refuse to fight, the Pang is always strongest when he himself is the target of such wrongdoing.
It takes years for him to realize what it is, to pinpoint what causes it, and it takes even longer for him to be able to put it into words.
The Pang is the yearning for more. It’s the desire for genuine, sincere human connection, to be a part of a loving and supportive community. The Pang is the desire to be recognized and treated as human and to see others treated the same way.
Every time that Fumikage feels the Pang, he also feels his faith in humanity crumbling just a little bit more.
There are things, however, that can stop the Pang.
It’s Wednesday morning, and Fumikage has walked to class with Iida, Midoriya, Uraraka, Todoroki, and Asui. It’s an open secret that Iida has been receiving letters full of compliments from someone, and Fumikage wakes up early enough to walk with him to be present at the next opening.
As he watches his friend open the letter and the group discuss the compliment contained therein, Fumikage feels at peace.
Humans aren’t all bad, he remembers. Sometimes, the Pang is so strong that it feels omnipresent, but Fumikage is in a course designed to produce heroes, and as he watches his friends tease each other good naturedly, the Pang fades away a bit.
Even if Fumikage still feels at time that he doesn’t quite belong.
When the weather is nice, Fumikage enjoys basking in the wonderful entity that is nature. When school lets out and the sun in shining, he often finds a tree to climb, relishing in the clear breeze and using the opportunity to get his homework done.
Of course, as a result, he has a front row seat to the best and worst of humanity. People often pick his tree unknowingly and spill their deepest, darkest secrets beneath its branches. Fumikage actually enjoys it. There’s something so very enticing about knowing the desires of someone when you don’t even know their name. He’s seen confessions of love, bullying, abuse. He’s seen people cry their eyes out. He’s seen people laugh until they collapse. It’s nice, most of the time. It helps him to keep seeing individuals instead of focusing on the depravation of society.
Of course, on the other side of the coin, he also sees and hears some terrible things, things that he wishes with all of his heart that he could forget.
Today is one of those times.
Fumikage recognizes the group that sits under his tree. A group of students from the business course, the three students are regulars on this side of the grounds. Fumikage typically finds their conversations on the state of the economy rather intriguing and enlightening, and so decides to hang around and listen. This time, the group's chosen topic of conversation appears to be the marketability of various students in the hero program.
I don’t know, one of the says. This year’s batch of first years could prove rather hard to sell.
What are you talking about? They’ve had more screen time than any previous group of first years before. Everyone in the country could likely recognize at least one or two of them, the second says, doubting.
And that’s the problem right there! the third argues. They’ve had so much screen time but so little control of what is put forth. Take that Bakugou kid, for instance. He has yet to make a good media presence.
Fumikage frowns. He may not be overly familiar with Bakugou, but he admires the drive that the other has.
The second hums. Okay, I see what you mean. Same thing with Midoriya, right? About every time you see him, he’s in some sort of unexplainable scrape that just doesn’t make sense.
Fumikage shifts uncomfortably. He has nothing but respect for Midoriya and doesn’t like the way that these imbeciles are talking about his friend. Dark Shadow pokes around and gets in his face, clearly wanting to do something about it, but Fumikage wills it be silent. Now is not the time to interfere.
The first grunts. Yeah, like that. Not to mention how many of them just look evil, you know? That kid Shouji, with the six arms, and the bird guy, Tokoyami-
The second shudders. Those guys are just creepy.
Tokoyami sees red.
He couldn’t care less about the insult to himself – darkness knows he’s had worse – but no one talks about his friends like that, especially about Shouji, the most empathetic and considerate human Fumikage has ever had the pleasure to meet.
He wrestles within himself to control the rage as Dark Shadow reacts to his emotions. It releases a sort of piercing shriek that causes the students under the tree to shift uncomfortably before leaving to find a different spot.
Once they are out of his immediate presence, Fumikage is able to reassert control over his fragile mental state and Dark Shadow shrinks back down to sit meekly at his side. Fumikage notes sadly that the Pang has returned. He really didn’t like what those kids were saying about his classmates.
Or about him, to be honest.
Is that really how the world sees him? As nothing more than a villain playing pretend?
Fumikage feels his heart wither as the Pang intensifies.
Thursday is not fun.
Fumikage naturally doesn’t pay much attention to the general populace. He’s finds such a practice useless and an utter waste of time. That doesn’t mean, however, that the general populace just lets him be as well.
As he walks to class in the morning, someone mockingly whistles like a bird and flaps their arms.
As he takes a break outside during lunch, someone throws bird seed at him.
The trend continues into Friday and Saturday. Calls of Birdbrain, accusations of ruffled feathers…
Amateurs. Their petty insults have nothing on the stark, distasteful reality of a discriminatory society. Additionally, their lackluster critiques are phrases that Fumikage has heard nearly every day of his life. He can hardly take the train without being insulted. At this point, he’s just disappointed in the banality and disingenuity of the populace; he wishes that they would demonstrate a bit more creativity in their status quo-inspired blasphemy.
Still, plebian though they may be, their words hurt.
The Pang grows stronger.
But so do his classmates.
Everyone has rallied together this week. They unite and work hard. Fumikage has felt a shift in their relationships, as they work to surround one of their own in love and light. He watches as everyone does their best to lift and encourage Iida. His classmates, Fumikage realizes, are the reason that the future isn’t so dark.
That doesn’t stop him, however, from wishing that perhaps, just maybe, someone would rally around him the way that all of the students are rallying around Iida.
Fumikage is watching the sun set from his balcony on Sunday evening when someone calls out his name. “Hey, Tokoyami! How are you?”
Fumikage abruptly looks to his right and see Midoriya waving at him from two balconies over. Fumikage gives a nod of acknowledgement, which Midoriya apparently takes as an invitation, as the other boy activates his quirk and hops quickly over to Fumikage’s balcony.
Fumikage’s beak twitches into the closest resemblance of a smile that it can manage. He leans against the railing as Midoriya silently joins him. They do this occasionally. Sometimes they’ll sit and talk until the stars come out, others they’ll just sit in silence as the orange sky fades to black. Either way, at least once a week, they take the time to relax and watch the sunset. Occasionally, on evenings when they’re being a bit louder, Aoyama will even pop out of his room and join in on the conversation from his own balcony.
Fumikage is forever grateful for the dorm room arrangement. Without it, he might not have gotten to know his two floormates, and their friendship means too much to him now to consider not having them as neighbors.
Midoriya sits in silence as the sun sinks toward the horizon, and Fumikage is content in the quiet company. Surprisingly, Aoyama also comes out, even going so far as to join them on Fumikage’s now crowded balcony, something he has only done a few times before. Sandwiched as he is between his two friends, some of the stress leaves Fumikage’s shoulders as he relaxes into the moment.
As the sky gets darker and Fumikage watches the darkness yet again overtake the light, Aoyama speaks up. “Tokoyami, mon amie, are you okay?”
Fumikage stands upright and eyes his friend. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
Midoriya hums and Fumikage shifts his attention. “Well,” Midoriya starts, “You’ve just been kind of… out of it, these past couple of days.” Midoriya lets out a shaky grin. “I’ve been trying to catch you on the balcony, but this is the first time you’ve been out in a while, which is, in and of itself, a bit, odd, you know?”
Aoyama nods. “Oui. You’ve seemed a bit down lately. I was starting to get worried – your eyes aren’t sparkly near as much as they normally do.”
Fumikage leans against the sliding door and folds his arm. The other two lean against the balcony railing, and the group’s feet are all crossed and jumbled in the middle. “I’ve merely been pondering upon the futility of fighting against societal entropy.”
His friends nod, and Fumikage takes a moment to appreciate how seamlessly they seem able to interpret his speech patterns. His anachronistic word usage seems odd to most people, but Fumikage finds that it’s very much easier to express himself using words and phrases from times long past.
Midoriya nods before sitting down on the balcony and pulling his knees up to his chest. “I get what you mean. Ever since becoming a hero student, I feel like I’ve started to recognize more and more often that society is far more broken than we would like to think.”
Aoyama joins him on the floor, crossing his legs. Looks like Fumikage’s friends have decided to fight the good fight and discuss the ills of the citizenry tonight, settling in for a deep and heartfelt discussion. “Life can’t always be as glamorous as moi.”
Fumikage resigns himself to the discussion ahead and sets down, splaying his legs out in front of him and leaning on his arms. “Darkness seems to be encroaching upon the world at an ever-increasing pace, and the soldiers of the light are few and far between.” He looks down and closes his eyes. “The agents of darkness are becoming increasingly bolder in their attacks.” He pauses. “And not just the villains, either. Deliberate attacks of malice seem to be increasing in frequency.”
Midoriya inhales a shaky breath. “Yeah, I’ve noticed more bullies out and about, too.”
Aoyama snaps his fingers and points at Fumikage. “But, Monsieur, that is why we must fight all the harder to become the sparkling and fabulous heroes of tomorrow!”
Fumikage glances down at his dark clothing. He doesn’t really tend to sparkle much. He opens his beak to say so but flinches in surprise when Aoyama wags his finger in Fumikage’s face. “Uh uh, mon amie. You have been focusing far too much on darkness and are refusing to let your inner self shine!”
Midoriya giggles, and Fumikage shoots him a glare, feeling slightly betrayed. “Yeah, Tokoyami,” he says, still giggling. “Let your inner self shine.”
Fumikage grunts, folding his arms over his chest and hunching his shoulder. “And how exactly does one let their inner self shine?”
Aoyama flourishes one hand. “C’est simple!” He leans forward and pokes Fumikage in the chest. “Recognize what is good about yourself, others, and the world!” He sits back, and Fumikage can’t help but notice that the blond looks oddly pleased with himself.
Fumikage looks the other way. “Right…” he drawls.
Aoyama seems to almost deflate a bit. “You don’t get it.”
Fumikage sighs. “No, I think I understand the intent behind your words. It is merely that – “ he trails off. How to phrase this? “I think that perhaps I am more acquainted with works of darkness than you. I think perhaps my very nature makes it difficult if not impossible to attain such an idyllic perspective on individual and communal nature.”
Midoriya almost seems to wilt a bit, like a flower needing water. “But that… That’s so sad. How can you go about your day thinking only the worst of people?”
Fumikage shakes his head. “That’s not it, at all. In fact, I find people individually to be wonderful. When gathered in large groups, however, mob mentality reigns and the wonders of individualism fade.” He lets his head thud against the door behind him. “When people start to conform to societal measures, that’s when cruelty becomes more commonplace than kindness.”
Aoyama winces. “It seems, my friend, that you’ve had a rough week.”
Midoriya scoots across the balcony so that he now sits side-by-side with Fumikage, their shoulders touching. “The world’s not all dark, you know.”
Aoyama mirrors him on Fumikage’s other side and even goes so far as to put his head on Fumikage’s shoulder. Fumikage sighs. The blond has absolutely no concept of personal space. “Oui. Think about it, Tokoyami. If it wasn’t ever dark, then we would never see the stars!” He gestures emphatically at the sky, though only a few stars are visible through the light pollution.
Midoriya nods fervently, his movement shaking all three of the boys. “A-and think about how much just a s-single match can light up a whole room.” Midoriya also lets his head fall to Fumikage’s shoulders, and Fumikage takes a moment to wonder how he ever got into this situation. “I think about that, you know. How it only takes a little light. I think that’s why All Might being the symbol of peace was so effective.”
Fumikage huffs and takes a moment to readjust their position, lifting his arms around the other boys’ shoulders so that his hands wouldn’t fall asleep pinned to his side. It’s a strangle semblance of an embrace, but Fumikage finds that he doesn’t mind it. “What do you mean by that, Midoriya?”
“W-well…” His hands start fiddling in his lap as he sorts out his thoughts and nestles even further into Fumikage’s shoulder. “There are so many criminals out there. So many that they greatly outnumber the heroes, you know? And yet... one man was able to stand up to it all. One man was able to give hope.” Midoriya gives a sort of dry laugh that Fumikage has never heard from him before. “A single match in a dark room, that’s what All Might was.”
Purely to be contrarian, Fumikage wants to argue a bit. He wants to point out that, while All Might was the number one hero, there were hundreds more fighting along side him. He wants to point out all the bad that hero society has done along with the good. But, he doesn’t.
He doesn’t argue, because he can kind of understand. “Yes, well…” He doesn’t know how he intended to finish that sentence, and instead chooses to leave it hanging.
They’re silent for a bit. By now, the sunset is nothing more than a slight orange glow on the horizon. They just sit there cuddling (Fumikage hates that word, but there is none other to describe what is occurring) until Midoriya startles them all again.
“If All Might can accomplish all that, just imagine what our class will be capable of.”
Fumikage feels Aoyama shift beside him. He looks over and finds the blond smiling a soft smile. “Nous serons incroyables.”
As Eijirou and Izuku walk into the classroom early on Monday morning (as in, at about 6:05 am, which, in Eijirou’s book, counts as why would anyone even be awake at this time early), they are surprised to find that they aren’t alone in the classroom. Aizawa stands at the podium, shuffling some papers together.
Eijirou freezes. This is in no way part of the plan. He risks a furtive glance at Izuku, who has his eyebrows ruffled but doesn’t appear to be concerned.
Why isn’t he concerned? They just encountered a wild Aizawa-Sensei at six in the morning, and he doesn’t appear to have a coffee cup. They should be running!
Aizawa glances up at them. “Problem Child. Kirishima. Can I help you?”
Midoriya waves the letter in his hand. “Just dropping this off!”
Aizawa grunts before pulling out his sleeping bag. “Who’s the target?”
“Tokoyami,” Eijirou offers once his friends elbows him in the side.
The hero stares at them before he gets in his sleeping bag and lays down on the floor. “Carry on.”
Izuku cheerfully walks over and places the letter on the desk before the two head out. As they’re walking out the door, they pause as their teachers calls out to them. Turning, they see him looking at them from the ground. “Keep it up, you two. Good work.”
Eijirou doesn’t often receive compliments from Aizawa-Sensei, and he feels like his heart might just be about ready to burst from joy. “Thank you so much, Sensei!” He offers an energetic thumbs up. “We definitely will, don’t you worry!”
The two move out of the building and start on their customary run. Kirishima is pleased to note that the running is coming slightly easier to him than it was before. He looks at his friend. “So, you mentioned wanting to tell me about something?”
As usual, Izuku’s gaze is fixed far in front of them. Sometimes, Eijirou can’t help but wonder if he can see the future because of how grand his ideas and goals are. “Yeah. Aoyama and I talked with Tokoyami last night.”
Eijirou almost stops in his tracks. “You and Aoyama? Really?” He knows that the blond is kind at heart, but he’s never been one that Eijirou would imagine going to for a heart to heart.
Izuku laughs. “Yeah, I know. But we kind of have this, like, tradition thing we do as a floor? I don’t know, we just sometime gather on Tokoyami’s balcony and, uh, bond.”
Eijirou whistles. “Manly as hell, dude. Wish I could convince Bakugou and Shouji to do that.” He pauses and thinks about it, then shakes his head. “I don’t think Bakugou would go for it, though.”
Izuku’s eyes widen at the thought. “Um, n-no, he w-would never agree.”
Eijirou sighs. “Too bad. Anyway, you were saying?”
Izuku shakes his right. “Right! So, apparently the real root of the issue is that Tokoyami has been having trouble seeing the good things. I think it’s a bit like trying to see the forest through the trees, you know? He’s hyper focusing on only the negative aspects of society and it’s causing him to miss the good.”
Eijirou frowns. That’s not good at all. He’s been there before, he knows what if feels like to live that way, and he wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. “I really don’t like that. We gotta help him, dude.”
Izuku nods. “I know, and I think that Aoyama and I were able to help him a bit last night, but I also think that our letters this week will be good too, you know? Regular, anticipated points of light in his day.”
Eijirou smiles. “Yeah, I definitely hope so. No friend of mine is going to get lost in the darkness, not as long as I can help it.”
They keep running, and when the dorm is in sight, Eijirou asks, “So, like, what’s the deal with Aizawa-Sensei?”
Midoriya gives an amused huff. “I think that he was just curious about how early we get there to deliver the letters. Not knowing something drives him crazy.”
Eijirou’s head tilts to the side. “Okay, yeah, that tracks.”
They stop at the door, and without thinking, raise their fists to do their handshake. First, Kirishima brings his fist down on Izuku’s, then Izuku plops his down over Eijirou’s. Their hands spring apart and open, then perform a tagging high-five. To close it off, they bump the ends of their fists together and snap at the same time.
Bump-bump-slap-snap!
Eijirou grins. It’s the start of a good week