Chapter Text
Izuku will never be able to get over the sunset, no matter how destroyed the country and society have become. The colors remind him of Shouto and Kacchan, and even if just the thought of his fallen comrades makes his chest tight, he will never give up anything that reminds him of them. Just like how the shine of the midday sun over the broken city skyline reminds him of Tenya. Or how the sight of the re-trashed Dagobah beach will remind him of Tsu and Toshinori. Or how a thunderstorm reminds him of Denki, or a moonless night reminds him of Fumikage, or…or…
There are far too many, and yet not nearly enough, reminders of those that they have lost along the way.
“Problem Child.” Shouta’s voice sounds behind him. Izuku doesn’t startle, he had heard the familiar limping footsteps, as light as they were, coming up from behind. The nickname makes him smile nostalgically. He only ever calls him anything other than Deku when they are somewhere relatively safe. Nowhere is truly safe these days. “You shouldn’t be outside, we don’t want to attract attention. Come on. Momo managed to gather a decent spread of food on her last supply run.”
Izuku sighs long and quietly, taking one last chance to look at the fading light of the sunset before he pulls himself back up onto the roof.
He dusts himself off gently, as though it’ll make much of a difference. His hero suit has long since turned black from the dirt, grime, and dried blood. It isn’t like they have the ability to wash themselves very often, let alone their war torn, too small for some of them, too big for others, nasty, patchy old hero costumes.
Izuku turns to his old teacher, his now brother in arms, silently. As he looks at Eraserhead, a nostalgic image of the man from Before flashes across his vision. Eraserhead has long since lost the sight in his right eye, his left leg missing from just below the knee and his right arm held close to his chest as it tries to recover from the recent break.
Once upon a time long gone, Eraserhead was mighty, tall and strong.
The rhyme makes another pang of grief and nostalgia ring in his chest. Eri loved rhymes. Her loss is the freshest and most painful one to date. Izuku’s little hero, gone in the blink of an eye. He looks away from Shouta before the tears can build. There is no time or place for grief anymore. Even on Grieving Day, he can’t make himself grieve like he should.
The two of them make their way back down the crumbling, abandoned building that was once an apartment building. All the way to the basement. It takes longer than they probably should have, but today is the anniversary of the first loss of the War. The end of Before and beginning of The End. Nezu, the little genius rat, was a very strategic loss for the enemy. Take out the brain and the body stops functioning. Jokes on them, Nezu wasn’t the only brain.
He was just the greatest one they had.
Izuku helps Shouta down the last few feet to the basement, since the stairs were long since destroyed. Shouta frowns in frustration at his ‘weakness’, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he understands that helping someone, even just a little bit, makes Izuku feel less despair. Or maybe he hates to admit that he’s not the Underground Legend he used to be. Maybe it’s both.
“There you are.” Momo says. Her relief is not hidden very well in her tone, but she doesn’t show it on her face. He didn’t mean to worry her, but at this point, without being within her eyesight at all times, there’s no point in trying not to. He understands. Loss affects people differently. Mei hands Izuku both his and Shouta’s meal as he passes, a tight smile on her lips. Immediately after handing Izuku the food, half a can of non perishable tomato soup for each of them, she turns back to her support item repairs in silence.
It’s a recent development as well.
After the loss of Power Loader two months ago, Mei has not spoken a word, not even to talk about her babies. Grief hangs heavy in the air. Everyone knows the date, the anniversary. The one day of the year they allow themselves to just grieve, and hide, and let go of the fight. Neito lands behind them not even a minute later, grimy blonde hair tied tight in a braid that reaches his shoulder blades.
“I’ve secured the perimeter. No signs of any Nomu or League members.” Neito informs. His voice is quiet, nearly a whisper, due to an injury he had gotten years ago to his throat. The same day Present Mic met his end. He can barely speak anymore, but he still fights with all the fury and mania of someone who’s lost almost everything. He’s the last of Old 1-B.
“Toshi.” Shouta says, and Izuku turns around to see him nudging Hitoshi awake with his crappy prosthetic made of random materials. Since they saved his knee joint, it didn’t have to be anything fancy, at Shouta’s demand. Even now, years and years later, he still systematically shuts Momo down on her offer for a better one. They all do. Momo’s quirk is reserved for medical supplies, small parts for repair work, and sometimes a new knife when one of there’s breaks or is lost. “Get your ass up or I’m eating your portion.”
“Lay off old man.” Hitoshi groans out, muffled by the torn up capture weapon he uses as a pillow. “I’m up.”
Izuku, in the resulting silence that always descends over mealtime, surveys all the remaining survivors of the last remaining rebel faction. Momo, whose hair is sheared in a short, choppy bob that is a homage to Kyoka, is carefully wrapping a blanket over Mei’s shoulders, even as she doesn’t acknowledge it. Neito, who rubs his scarred throat after every small bite, is resharpening everyone’s blades. Hitoshi who eats so fast it might make him nauseous later and then passes right back out, possibly from quirk overuse. He’s been pushing himself further and further with every fight since Eri was killed.
Mei, who doesn’t even bother, slides her portion to Momo and returns back to her tinkering. Eijiro is in the corner, re-sewing the gloves that used to be Kacchan’s, with a few silent tears falling down his face. Izuku doesn’t draw attention to it. Snipe, Yaorashi, and Ectoplasm are all holding a quiet conversation, probably planning for the next round of patrols. Hanta is using his tape to patch the holes in everyone’s torn up costumes as much as he can.
And that’s it. Eleven.
The last eleven who still choose to fight back. Only three who were already heroes, only seven who were heroes in training, one isn’t even from UA. And one lone support designer. Three, seven, and one. They really are pathetic aren’t they? How are eleven, or perhaps just ten, trained heroes supposed to overturn the apocalypse? Ten heroes against an army of villains. Eleven rebels. Is that all that they had been reduced to?
“Izuku.” Momo says, getting his attention quietly as she sits beside him, pressed close to his side for some semblance of comfort. He wraps an arm around her gently and holds her close. It’s a small thing, but it makes her feel better to be touching them when she can. After a moment, he pulls his arm back to his side as she holds onto it tightly.
“Yeah Mo?”
“Do you think it’s truly possible?” Momo asks. And the question silences the room. All attention is on them now. Even Eijiro looks up, Hitoshi opens his eyes, and Mei looks away from her work. He wishes he could pretend he doesn’t know what she’s asking of him. Izuku takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as he reminds himself what it is she wants to know. What everyone is looking to him for answers for.
Izuku was approached three weeks ago by a civilian.
Said civilian, a man named Ikimi Kazuko, told Izuku that he had a quirk that made it possible to send someone back in time. Or rather their consciousness. Izuku hadn’t really believed it at first. It seemed too good to be true. But the man proved it by telling Izuku the secret Izuku had apparently told him, although nothing about One For All, as much as it doesn’t matter anymore. After two weeks of secret meetings between the two of them, Izuku was sent back himself. A week after that he told the others that he has a way to fix everything by going back in time. That was yesterday. He’s refused to talk about it more due to Grieving Day.
He opens his eyes again. The room has gone devastatingly still as the ten people staring at him wait for an answer.
“I do. He proved it by telling me a secret about myself that he should not have known no matter how much digging he did into my past.” Izuku responds. “According to Ikimi, he doesn’t know if he can send all eleven of us back though. Not if we go back to before it all began.”
“Does he know the limits to his quirk?” Shouta asks. Izuku tries not to sigh. This is their Grieving Day, he wanted to hold off until after today, so that they all can grieve in peace. Grieving Day is not for strategizing further than perimeter checks. It’s not for fighting a war.
“I told you all, I don’t want to-”
“Please Zuku.” Mei says, the first words she’s spoken in two months. Her voice is scratchy and unused. Izuku is helpless, unable to deny her. Not when she sounds so sad. He does sigh this time, but he smiles shakily anyways, hoping to bring some comfort to everyone in the basement with it.
It’s hard to smile when he has nothing and no one to smile for after all.
But he has his brothers and sisters, his comrades, his last remaining family. He can smile for them, at least. He feels some of the tension in Momo’s shoulders ease slightly because of it, and that’s all he can really hope for these days. He places a hand over the ones gripping his arm before letting it fall and letting her keep her hold on him.
“Alright. Gather ‘round everyone.” Izuku says, and there’s some brief shifting as they all form a circle. “According to Ikimi, he’s been able to send himself back all the way to the beginning multiple times. He’s never really sent anyone else back that far though, so it’ll be a new experience all around.”
“How does it work?” Hitoshi asks, seeming more awake than he has been in days.
“The energy used for his quirk materializes in the form of a marble-like sphere. While thinking of a specific year, you have to crush the marble between your teeth. He’s used it on me already.” Izuku says. “It’s the only reason why we still have Snipe. I managed to save him with it.” Snipe, not having known this beforehand, jerks slightly, his hands going to tug at his dreadlocks much like Momo used to do before she cut her hair off.
“Any side effects?” Hanta asks. He’s still working on patching the holes as they speak. Izuku will have to hand over his hero suit later to get his own patching done. At this point his costume is more tape than fabric. Maybe he should take Momo up on the offer of a new outfit, but he doesn’t want to waste her quirk. She’s already too thin.
“A few minutes of nausea and disorientation, phantom pains from old wounds, and a slight headache.” Izuku answers. “How it works is, instead of sending your body, it sends your consciousness, or maybe just your memories, back in time to your old body. When the Jump, as he calls it, is a short one, he can specify the day, or even the hour, that you want to go back to. But in longer Jumps like we’ll be making, it’ll automatically send you to midnight on the morning of that year’s birthday. So we wouldn’t all appear at the same time.”
“So the first of us would be Ecto.” Shouta says. Izuku nods in response.
“If all eleven of us manage to Jump, then yes. Ectoplasm in March, Mei in April. Neito in May. Hitoshi, then me, then Hanta in July. Momo first, then Yaorashi in September. Eijiro in October. Snipe and then Eraser, a day apart, in November.”
“Which, of course, means that I’m the last one to show up. Fantastic.” Shouta grumbles. Izuku smiles a bit at his misfortune.
“So, what happens if we can’t all Jump?” Eijiro asks next.
“Depending on what the limit would be, we would have to make a decision on who goes back. Of course there is always a chance that we go one at a time on this end, but it would be a lot of risk to Ikimi to be near us for that long of a time.”
“So who would we have to send if we have to choose a limited amount?” Hitoshi asks.
“I would like to remove myself from the running please.” Momo says quietly. Izuku looks at her in shock and concern. She has her body curled around his arm, her head tucked into his shoulder.
“Mo? Why?” Neito’s voice is near silent, but they all hear him anyway. Momo shifts closer to Izuku again, holding onto his arm tighter. Her smile is dry as she raises her head.
“Is it really so surprising? After Kyo, I’ve been unable to do hardly anything more than patch you all up. Everytime one or more of you leave, it sends me into a near panic attack. I wouldn’t be much use the way I am now.” Momo says. “And besides, if we go back, I’ll be in my younger self’s body, in my old home. My childhood was extremely strict, I wouldn’t manage to disappear quietly, or sneak out at night if we decided to stay.”
“But, Momo, you can see Kyouka again.” Eijiro says quietly. Momo smiles sadly at him.
“Eiji, that’s the problem. I wouldn’t be able to pretend like I don’t know her if I happened to pass her on the street. I wouldn’t be able to stay away, or keep myself together and not break down in tears.” Momo explains. Izuku has to admit, her reasoning is sound. If he sees Kacchan or Shouto…
Or his mother, or Toshinori, or Ochako, or…
“Then maybe I shouldn’t-” He starts to say.
“You have to go Deku.” Shouta cuts him off sharply. Izuku’s head snaps up from where he had let it drop.
“Why?”
Looks are shared around the circle. Hitoshi is the one to answer him, giving him a deadpan stare that could have rivaled Shouto when they first met. “Isn’t it obvious? You are our leader, the mastermind. Not to mention you have a near photographic memory. If we want to fix everything, which I’m sure we do, you’re the best bet at remembering all the information we’ll need. Your quirk analysis is invaluable, you have a mind for strategy comparable to Nezu, and most of all, you will know when to stop.”
“When to stop?”
“Not everyone who brought The End is unsavable. Some of them could be saved before they turn down the path of villainy and destruction. I can name three off the top of my head.” Hitoshi holds up his hand, his right, which still has all of his fingers, and counts those three off. “Dabi, Toga, and Hawks to start. Possibly even Shigaraki.”
The reminder of Hawks, who turned traitor due to his treatment by the Commission, stings. He’s the reason Nezu is dead. He’s the reason today is Grieving Day. Shouta killed him a few months later in revenge. Eraserhead’s first kill, and the event that got the ball rolling.
“I guarantee that at least half of us might not be able to hold back from killing someone for crimes they haven’t committed yet. You’re not like that Izuku. I bet you still think even Shigaraki can be saved.” Hitoshi continues. Izuku doesn’t bother to contradict him. Shigaraki is a homicidal, psychopathic, villainous maniac, but he is still just a victim. All For One is the reason Shigaraki is the way he is. Izuku hates him, and Shigaraki isn’t free of blame, but he is still a victim of his upbringing.
“Well, based on Mo’s logic, I don’t think I should go either.” Eijiro suddenly says. “I would give anything to see Katsuki again, but it would break me to do so when he won’t be my Katsuki. He won’t call me Ei, he won’t kiss me, hell he’d probably just be mean to me.”
“Okay, so that leaves nine of-”
“Eight.” Mei says. She doesn’t elaborate, and no one asks her to. Shouta corrects himself after a moment, clearing his throat and looking back at Izuku.
“That leaves eight of us left.”
“Technically seven, since we all agree Deku should go no matter what.” Hitoshi says.
Izuku twists his lips as he thinks about the best options of who should go. It’s easy to choose the next person. “Eraserhead has to go as well. His quirk will be invaluable.” And also, Izuku doesn’t want to go without him. Most days Shouta is all that keeps him standing tall for the others. He lets Izuku be weak, vulnerable. He lets him speak his thoughts and doubts and emotions without judgment or pity. He lets Izuku break when he refuses in front of everyone else.
How he got the position of their leader is beyond him sometimes.
“Fine, whatever.” Shouta grunts. Izuku can’t read the look on his face since it’s buried in his capture scarf.
“‘Fore we continue, I think a decision must be made.” Snipe says. “For whoe’er Jumps, the choice must be made on whether to disappear without a word and focus on the mission, or t’go about their days as normal and use the night for the mission.”
“In my opinion, I think we need to just disappear.” Hitoshi responds, picking at his nails with strange intensity. “I think I speak for everyone that it would be too much for us to pretend to be who we aren’t anymore. There’s been too much death, loss, and blood on our hands. We’ve been through too much for us to fly completely off the radar around those who know us best. At least when the mission is over, we can claim trauma for the holes in our stories.”
“Not to mention, that once I go back, Nezu will immediately see something wrong in the way I act around everyone. Rat always was too smart for my own good.” Shouta adds. Almost simultaneously, Snipe, Ecto and Shouta all mutter ‘praise the Rat God’ under their breaths, an old joke turned into a phrase of honor.
“Then I won’t go.” Yaorashi says. “I couldn’t do that to my family.”
“It wouldn’t matter either way for me.” Neito immediately adds on quietly, rubbing his throat absentmindedly. “I was a foster child.”
“Me too.” Hitoshi mumbles. He clears his throat and speaks louder. “So Deku and Eraser are musts, Neito and I are possible. Inasa, Mei, Eijiro, and Mo are out. That leaves Snipe, Ectoplasm, and Hanta.”
“Personally, I don’t think I would be a great asset in the Jump. Due to my quirk, I’m easily identifiable.” Hanta says, gesturing loosely to the large dispensers on his elbows.
“Then I, as well, can not go.” Ectoplasm says.
“I think it’d raise too much attention if two UA teachers disappeared, so I’mma have t’back out.” Snipe responds. “One’ll already be too much attention as is.”
“So to reiterate.” Hitoshi says. “Deku and Eraser are musts, Neito and I are possibilities, and everyone else is out. So if we can manage four, then all four of us will go. But at minimum Eraser and Deku are going. Good talk.”
“Do we want to leave it at that tonight?” Izuku asks. Another round of looks around the room.
“No, let’s hash it all out. Right now.” Eijiro says, gritting what’s left of his shark teeth. “I can’t stand another minute of silence. Fuck Grieving day. Let’s make the most of tonight and make a plan to save the world. For Katsuki.”
“And Kyouka.” Momo adds, voice cracking but still strong. A round of quiet agreements around the room, names of those they’d lost floating across the room before it silences.
Izuku looks at them in silence for a moment, and Eijiro holds his gaze. He looks more determined than he has in years. Izuku looks around the room, meeting nine more gazes just like Eijiro. These people, the last of his family, are ready to end this war once and for all. Izuku’s lips stretch in the sharpest smile he’s made in years.
“Then let’s get started.” Izuku says. And for the first time in what feels like an eternity, every single one of his remaining family smiles in response.