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“ITS YOUR FUCKING FAULT.” The villain screamed at the heroes surrounding him. All his plans had been laid, and all but one had been successful. “IT'S ALL OF YOUR FAULTS.” He hadn’t accounted for this in his escape plan. But all his associates were either dead, imprisoned or didn’t care about a useless kid.
Hopefully, the only ones who cared enough were far away on a plane right now. He hoped that one thing worked in his godforsaken plan on this night.
His own machinations used against him, perhaps playing it more open, would have meant that someone would have come for him. The weakness, the one he had turned into a strength, had turned on him again. Like it always did.
“I WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN LIKE THIS IF IT WASN’T FOR YOU AND YOU’RE FUCKING SOCIETY AND-,” he heaved in several breaths as he surveyed the mixture of old teachers and enemies in front of him, even though he knew in his heart that the adults in front of him weren’t really enemies. They just followed his enemies’ orders. Clocking the look in most of their eyes, the sadness and resignations, “STOP PITYING ME, THIS IS WHAT YOU MADE ME. ME, SHOTO, ALL OF US, THIS IS YOUR FAULT.”
They already knew that this was why they had requested to be on the mission. Why it wasn’t some powerhouse like Endeavour or Death arms, who were known for villain deaths and swift and painful arrests. The heroes surrounding him now were just a group of high school teachers watching someone they swore to protect finally, finally break down.
They didn’t pity him; they never did. They just couldn’t do anything about it. In their eyes, the small, green-haired boy in front of them would have been one of the best heroes that they would have taught. This wasn’t an arrest for these heroes; it was a funeral for Izuku’s innocence.
His breath grew to shudder as he clutched his broken ribs with one arm groaning but still holding his dagger steady.
The knife he was wavering, the curved dagger glinting a deep shade of red, seemed to be enough of a deterrent to the heroes as he threateningly slashed at the heroes who had him cornered against the building.
Izuku felt like he was suffocating and nearly tore his high neck from his throat as if it would have done anything. He had lost the black trench coat that Shoto had gotten him; he lost that early in the night, so he was also shivering. Winter had dragged its fingers into the weather, and it was cold as hell.
The bullet hole in his leg was starting to throb, and the cold was going nothing to numb it; he wasn’t sure he would be able to stand much longer. His ribs ached, and his left eye was closing up, as well as the fact that his nose would not stop bleeding.
As if sensing his moment of weakness, the heroes, as one, started to advance. Snipe stayed back. The glare he had gotten from Aizawa when he shot Izuku was enough to keep him away. He was supervising from a distance. The teachers knew that Aizawa was taking it harder than anyone else was. He was practically about to adopt the boy before it was revealed.
He was one of their kids, and he didn’t deserve to be treated like a villain. He didn’t deserve to be what his father and society made him. Both he and Shoto were trapped in a situation where their only way out was the path they chose.
“ALL I WANTED WAS TO BE A HERO. ALL I EVER WANTED. BUT THIS IS WHAT YOU MADE ME.” He was crying; it wasn’t unexpected. He was a cry baby, after all. But they were teachers, and if they didn’t hurt to see one of their students hurting, then they weren’t very good teachers.
“I WAS A QUIRKLESS NOBODY DOOMED TO BE BURIED IN SOME LANDFILL WHILE NO ONE CARED THAT I WENT MISSING. SHOTO WAS BEING BEATEN EVERY DAY, AND THE COMMISSION COVERED IT UP.” The cameras had arrived. Several of UA’s finest teachers surrounded a bleeding person, dressed in black and with gun holsters. They were never not going to show up. Izuku tracked the small drones from where they were in the sky. At least the last final last-ditch attempt of his old plan was finally, finally working out for him.
His last-ditch effort to protect someone who had become more than his friend along the way. A person who was the same as him but on the opposite side of everything. He had too much power where Izuku had none. Their fathers both pushed them to villainy.
He didn’t need to get his father out of Tartarus. That was never his plan. He didn’t want the destruction that Shigaraki would cause. He just wanted to make the world better for people like him. This would have to help. There had to be some people with empathy. They would have to see the discarded hero student and see what becomes of suppression quirkiest behaviour.
This was a lot more violent than he had ever wanted. As he had said, all he wanted to be was a hero. It would have been so easy to reveal himself when he was a pro-hero with missions under his belt and then watch as people had to accept the first quirkless hero, but now they would have to see what their hateful actions are led to.
Izuku hoped this tore the UA board up with guilt. This was their fault. He didn’t blame his teachers; not really, there was nothing they could do. He wasn’t speaking to them. He loved Eraserhead like a father. Had known he was followed after his first descent into Vigilantism and his fight to get him back to UA, he just wasn’t watching when Vigilantism didn’t work, and he fell into his role as a villain. It was easy to hide behind his quirkless veneer.
“I WAS WATCHING MY MUM WHEN SHE WAS TOLD I WAS MISSING AND WHEN YOU LEFT, SHE WAS RELIEVED. WHAT IS IT LIKE ENDEAVOR TO HAVE TWO SONS TURN TO VILLAINY JUST TO STOP YOU.”
Shoto deserved a happy ending too, deserved to watch his father rot in prison. Izuku hoped he would make a good cellmate.
“TO THE FUCKING UA BOARD, LOOK AT ME AND CARVE MY NAME INTO YOUR TOMBSTONE BECAUSE YOU WILL BE BURIED WITH ME.” He was rasping, he could feel his leg buckling, and he swung his dagger at the hand, reaching out to detain him as he fell to his knee. Present Mic drew backwards, clutching his hand as it bled, and Izuku scrambled to stand up again, pushing himself against the wall to support him standing up.
Eraserhead tried to get closer as he ushered Yamada behind him, “Izuku, come on. It’s over. Just rest. Just- come on, don't make it harder on yourself.” Izuku let him take one more step forward before it was too much.
“STAY BACK. JUST LET ME-”
Nearly falling down the wall when his knee buckled again, he eyed the cameras, baring his teeth and watching his teachers watch him. Eraserhead stayed where he had walked to, not even several meters away from him. He knew he was near his last now, and they knew it would be easier to take him in when he was down.
Aizawa knew him well enough to see the desolation in his eyes, and he had the bitter taste of hopelessness in his mouth.
He knew no help was coming. His father’s Deus ex machina stunts were permanently stopped by being in Tartarus. Shoto should have been in America with Dabi by now. They're waiting for Izuku. “I HOPE TO FUCK YOUR HAPPY WITH YOUR SELVES. I HOPE YOUR PROUD ISNT- this what ugh” he was coughing up blood now, his anger keeping the heroes at bay. He wished he could have seen Shoto again.
They knew he would not be able to keep going like he was for much longer, he was flagging, and for how much he was bleeding and how much he had bled, he would not be standing conscious for much longer. They were letting him waste his energy in this pointless rant. The cameras were on him, and all he cared about now was getting this final nail into his own coffin.
“I hope you're proud. I HOPE YOUR FUCKING PRO-” his speech was interrupted by loud, wet coughing as blood splattered against the ground, “Kacchan, if you’re watching this, fuck you, all might, fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. YOU LEFT ME ON A BUILDING AFTER I WAS TOLD TO KILL MYSELF, ENDEAVOUR NEARLY KILLED TOUYA TODOROKI AND THEN COVERED IT UP, HE MADE TOUYA INTO DABI. WHAT A HERO, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.” He fell to his knees as he started to whisper curses at the heroes who had ruined his life.
Waving his weapon at all who got close, he knew it was futile, he was smart, but Nedzu made this trap. The same creature who had commanded his chess skills, the same creature who always had a secret strategy that he never saw coming. The same creature who saw what he used to be under his hate and vitriol, whenever he used to talk and play with Nedzu, it was the closest he could be to becoming a hero.
Until he was found as quirkless, and the board of UA proved why he should purge the world. The difference between Atakani and Izuku was simply the joint in their feet. One was more impressive because his intellect was born from a singular mutation designed to create facts from clues. The other was worthless because his intellect came from his own experiences and life.
He was worthless because he was smart, but only that.
He dropped his ornate dagger, a gift from his father, and started heaving on hands and knees. Black boots came into his field of view as Eraserhead crouched next to him and took the dagger from the ground, placing it into a see-through bag and chucking it behind him.
“You were my hero as a kid. You saved me once, and you were the closest thing to what I could have been if I was a hero. I was so glad to find out you were my teacher. If it helps, you were the second person who told me I could follow my dream. You the only hero who said I mattered.” Izuku looked up at the face of Aizawa Shouta, the face of a man who had tried so hard and had succeeded where he had failed, and he smiled. He could see on the man’s face that it did not help, but he needed to say this to him.
He started giggling, “you and my dad, who was the greatest supervillain in the world, and a rat. How proud he was when I came to him and asked for vengeance.”
He looked over the man’s shoulder, at Present Mic, at Midnight, at all his other teachers who just didn’t understand. Who like most people, did not know the pain of the society for all of those who were seen as worse. Izuku looked back into the eyes of the one hero who had a quirk that would mean he would understand.
“Tell Nedzu I am sorry for the pain I caused; all I wanted was to not be worthless. He understood you understood. I wish I could have gone with you and Yamada if that is any conciliation. But I think the commission is going to kill me. I know too much; they destroyed my files I have nothing. Just ask Hawks,” he coughed again, falling nearly onto his face as his old hero moved to support him, wrapping him in his capture scarf and securing his hands in a cross across his body. His mind was going fuzzy from blood loss, and he smiled a blood-soaked smile at the man he wished could have been his father before he called his own to save him.
“They won’t; it would be too suspicious and would be illogical. Come on, problem child. Let’s go. You can apologise to him yourself. I take it the Todoroki’s aren’t coming; you were always too self-sacrificial for that.” Eraserhead lifted the small quirkless boy and carried him like a parent would carry their child. As he finally lost his battle with consciousness, he saw the other hero’s approach, a fiery orange glow filled his vision, and he whispered, “you can’t have him, you bastard. He’s mine” before his head dropped into unconsciousness.
What he didn’t catch after he dropped out of consciousness was the growled order from Eraserhead to stay away, the other UA teachers crowding Enji Todoroki away from the small boy, who had heard his declaration and was demanding why the other heroes were still treating him like a student. They knew the social shit storm that was coming for the man, his days as a pro-hero were limited.
Izuku woke up once in the detainment van. After being handed over by Eraserhead, he had been put in but was swiftly knocked out again with a swift and punishing blow to his head. He didn’t rouse until he was in a cell, deep within commission control, with tight shoulders and a pounding headache. His black trench coat and black roll neck were gone, replaced with white trousers and a top: typical prisoner wear, and several bandages wrapped around certain areas of his body. And a lump in the side of his neck.
It was either a bomb or a tracker, but Izuku had no desire to take it out. He had done what he needed to and tried to do what he could.
They never did tell him if the anti-quirkless laws that had passed had been revoked. Nor anything about Shoto.
He would never know if anything he did mattered.
-
It did.
-
Shoto screamed and cried when he saw the news. When he saw Endeavour slate and defame him, Izuku had promised that he would get out, that he would get back to him. But Izuku was a liar and a cheat.
He always would tear himself apart for his loved one’s safety.
But to the small 6-person family who suspiciously looked like the Todoroki family, with one winged extra, that loss was unacceptable. It was not soothed when Endeavour was finally stripped of his hero licence, nor when he was carted off to Tartarus. They still had no news on where Izuku was.
Not like Touya would ever let Shoto go to save him, Touya liked the green-haired menace, but he was willing to sacrifice him to keep his brother safe. His message was something that Touya respected. Natsuo was protected from the harshest of bullies and assaults because he was the son of the number two hero, but he wouldn’t lose his family again.
-
It never did get to his father. In the end, he was locked away in the depth of Tartarus, proud of his son, who was working towards the change that he always wanted.
All for One breathed in the sedative heavy air of his cell in relief, especially the gossip of the guards about how the anti-quirkless laws were being rescinded.
His son, his Izuku, had done it. Had changed his world and then fled to America with Shoto.
Well, what he didn’t know would never hurt him.