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Izuku sat in League of Villains headquarters watching the TV screen in front of him. The first year sports festival was on. He carefully took notes on their weaknesses as he thought about what could have been. When he believed he could be a hero.
He smiled, at least he was changing society here. Who knew how much would actually get done with the heroes.
From the bar counter, Shigaraki watched his right-hand man as he took notes on their relationships and weaknesses.
People are puppets held together with string.
Later that night, it was Dabi who heard the cries as Izuku spoke to himself about what could have been. What would have been if he hadn’t been so stubborn and he had taken up All Might’s offer.
There's a beautiful sadness that runs through him.
As he asks me to pray to the God he doesn't believe in.
Izuku watched Kacchan as he raised his head high in triumph on the screen, taking the credit and winning the battle against the hero killer. But no one seemed to care about the blood dripping off of him or that Stain was near dead.
Time and again boys are raised to be men.
Izuku had his back on Kacchan’s foot at the training camp, “Who’s Deku now?” He stabbed his knife into Kacchan’s neck.
Impatient they start, fearful they end.
Izuku was back at the bar, sipping on a fruity drink that Kurogiri had made him in congratulations for killing Kacchan.
But there was a man mourning tomorrow.
He stood up and left the bar, leaving the drink behind. Izuku wandered the streets, not really caring if he got caught.
Why didn’t he feel better? Accomplished for finally killing the one who had tormented him his entire childhood? Who told him to jump off a roof?
Why couldn’t he finally feel okay? Why wasn’t he at peace with his past now that he was the last one left.
He drank, but finally drowned in his sorrow.
He burned down Aldera Junior High
Oh, he could not break surface tension.
Izuku went back to the League, confiding in Toga about his thoughts.
He looked in the wrong place for redemption.
She didn’t really seem to understand him. Her mind was only of blood and gore, not satisfaction and justification.
Shigaraki watched as he fell apart. As he slowly retreated into his shell, going on less and less missions and no longer analyzing.
And don't look at me with those eyes.
One day, Izuku just disappeared, his things packed up and taken away. No one, the league, his mother, or the world heard from him for many months. All he left was a note with a phone number, “call in case of emergencies”.
Shigaraki ordered the League not to search for him, it was obvious he needed time. The only thing he did was text the number with the website of a good online therapist.
I tried to unheave the ties.
Turn back the tide that drew him.
He couldn't be saved.
Months later, he popped up again. Some of the light in his eyes had returned and he began to work for the league in changing society once again. But, he wasn’t back all the way. No one was really sure if he’d ever be fully back. The league was often at a loss without his light bringing their days hope.
A sadness runs through him.
There were still bad days, still months where he didn’t do anything but sit and stare into the distance.
Through him
Time and again boys are raised to be men.
Years later, he was in his twenties and Shoto: the Ice Hero was the number one hero.
He was really no match for the Ice Hero, especially quirkless as he was.
The battle lasted only a few minutes, but it felt like eternity for the League, they couldn’t get there in time, not with Kurogiri in prison.
Impatient they start, fearful they end.
Shigaraki and the rest of the League mourned, some turning to drink, others getting villain therapists.
But here was a man mourning tomorrow.
Who drank, but finally drowned in his sorrow.
Oh, he could not break surface tension.
Shigaraki tried to reform society, he tried to be like his Sensei.
He looked in the wrong place for redemption.
Yet, his Sensei was no god and eventually fell. With his fall, fell the League. They split up, Shigaraki no longer leading them.
Don't look at me with those eyes
I tried to unheave the ties
Turn back the tide that drew him
But he couldn't be saved
Shigaraki stood at Izuku’s grave. “We should have saved you. You were one of us, you held us together. I’m sorry.” He laid a rose on the grave that he stole from a chain flower shop.
Another day, Toga sat at the grave, “Why couldn’t it have been me?”
A sadness runs through them.