Chapter Text
“Kacchan… I couldn’t just stand there and watch you die!” Izuku Midoriya grimaced through tears as he cried out, fingers still uselessly gliding through sludge as he desperately tried to dig out his childhood friend and classmate.
“GET THE HELL OFF ME!” Whether Bakugo’s response was directed at the villain that had wrapped itself around him or Izuku was unclear, but the clear vitriol caused Izuku to pull back for just a moment. This temporary break in focus allowed the surrounding sounds of the chaotic scene to flow back into his perception. To his relief, he heard the footsteps of the small crowd of heroes he had rushed past closing in on him, his recklessness apparently spurring them out of inaction.
Something was off, though… in the distance, though Izuku couldn’t quite determine which direction, the distinct cadence of horses began to overpower the sound of the approaching heroes. Distracted just enough to glance behind him, Izuku’s gaze focused just in time to see Kamui Woods & Death Arms rear back as a large, armored and haloed man seemingly materialized between them and Izuku.
Despite every inch of his face being covered by a helmet that leaked a sickly red substance out of the eye holes, he was clearly focused on Izuku. His presence was so overwhelming that Izuku could do nothing but stare, tears still running down his cheeks. Even the slime villain seemed stunned into inaction, allowing Bakugo’s violent struggles to partially free himself. A deep, rumbling voice issued forth from the man, the words unintelligible, save for one: “KING.” He lifted his hand, a glowing key hovering above his palm. As the thundering hoofbeats grew louder, he glanced back behind himself, and then continued speaking, a note of urgency entering his voice.
Before Izuku could formulate a response, a burst of debris exploded outward as a bolt of white lightning struck the ground where the man had looked. Onlookers screamed as Mt. Lady quickly hunched over the gathered crowd to shield them from a spray of shrapnel. Izuku barely had time to comprehend what he was looking at before they were upon him, rushing past the hesitating heroes. Nightmarish figures of thorny white armor, limbs too thin to suggest there was a person inside, rode atop equally horrific mounts that looked like nothing so much as crude, quadrupedal people with three-eyed skulls for faces.
With a swing of its arm, the lead rider struck out at the armored man, cleanly slicing his head from his shoulders. Izuku heard Bakugo shout in indignation as the group thundered past. Whipping his head around, Izuku saw another of the riders grab Bakugo’s shirt, tearing him free from the slime villain with no apparent effort. Twisting to chase after his classmate, Izuku found his movement halted by a hand on his shoulder. A tug, and Izuku was spun around to once again face the beheaded man.
Against all odds, the man was still standing, his key-bearing hand now reared back. Izuku struggled against his iron grip, still trying to free himself to chase after Bakugo, before the man thrust his hand forward, slamming his palm firmly into Izuku’s forehead.
It was the strangest, most intense sensation Izuku had ever felt - he tried to scream, but found himself unable to as he felt his body unravel, flesh separating from bone separating from his sense of self, even as the world around him similarly unraveled, leaving his dissected being suspended in an endless void, struggling to breathe through non-existent lungs. In an explosion of white lightning, his component parts rushed back towards him, rapidly reforming his body.
Once again a physical being, Izuku collapsed to his hands and knees. He gasped down lungfuls of air, only to freeze as he noticed that the street below him had changed from smooth pavement to a cracked and worn cobblestone. Looking up, he took in his surroundings - a musty market, the street lined with dozens of stalls, manned and patronized by an uncountable number of alien beings.
Craning his head further up, he noticed that there was seemingly no end to the buildings surrounding him, stacking haphazardly into the sky before disappearing into a roiling, black cloud. As Izuku struggled to his feet, he cast his gaze about, trying to locate a familiar mop of spiky blonde hair. “Kacchan?!”
No response came back.
Izuku felt a tightness in his chest as he stood paralyzed in the narrow road, only to be sent staggering back as what appeared to be a walking crystal shoved him aside as it followed a blue-skinned human, chattering excitedly, their conversation a mess of unfamiliar words. Feeling the stone of a building on his back, Izuku allowed himself to sink down to the ground, his hunched form all but ignored by the two merchants whose stalls he landed between.
“...Where am I?”
It was hours before pangs of hunger prompted him to move. He grabbed his cellphone from where it lay on the ground next to him, tossed aside from when he checked it earlier and found it glitching past the point of functionality. Staggering back to his feet, legs still feeling like gelatin, he shuffled forward, unsure of where to go. Luckily, it didn’t take long before the enticing smell of fried foods wafted past him and he was off, following his nose through the winding alleys to a small street stall.
Pushing the curtain aside, he took a seat at the counter, prompting the proprietor - another one of the strange, green-skinned creatures with 4 slits where their eyes should be - to turn around and chatter at him. Hesitantly, Izuku pointed at one of the wooden skewers sticking out of a pot of boiling oil, unsure if his gesture would be understood by the sightless creature. “One of those, please.”
His worry was for nothing, and the creature pulled the stick from the pot and handed it to him, seemingly uncaring that there was hot oil still dripping from it. Izuku held it for a minute, letting the mystery food cool, before bringing it up to his mouth to take a bite, only to pause. He somehow doubted this stall would accept yen, and he had no other way of paying. Would it be fair to accept this food, knowing that he couldn't provide the rightful payment? Yet despite his internal protests, instinct won out over the learned niceties of polite society. With a pang of guilt, Izuku tore into the skewer, the flavor of the strange meat unlike anything he had tasted before, the flavor being reminiscent of nothing so much as sweet and salty grass.
He barely had time to finish the meal before the creature turned its attention back to him, a hand outstretched, intention obvious. Fumbling to pull his wallet out, Izuku produced a pair of 500 yen coins, and dropped them in the proprietor’s awaiting palm.
Despite its alien features, the confusion on the creature’s face was obvious, and it barked angrily at him, leaning over the counter to come face to face. Continuing its tirade, it loomed over Izuku as he shrunk in his seat, only to pause. The sound of several deep inhalations, coupled with the strange winking of its facial slits, brought Izuku to the horrifying realization that they were horrendously over-sized nostrils.
Dropping the coins on the counter, forgotten, the creature reached forward and tapped a single finger on Izuku’s forehead. The gentle plinking sound it made caused Izuku to glance up, noticing for the first time a strange white shape just barely on the edge of his peripheral vision. Was something on his forehead? He reached up and felt it, and sure enough, there was a smooth, oblong stone seemingly embedded within his skin. Unsure of what exactly it was, but unwilling to part with it as mere payment for a meal, Izuku vigorously shook his head and stood up, backing out of the stall.
The vendor let out an indignant shout, and made to follow Izuku out, prompting him to spin on his heel and begin running, only slowing down to offer a quick apology over his shoulder. His heart pounding as he ran, Izuku ducked into the first tight alley he came across, the sound of the pursuing creature right behind him. Another alley, another turn. Left, right, left, left, left, right. Izuku took each corner at speed, barely avoiding crashing into several unsuspecting shoppers as he wound his way through the maze of passages, caring only to evade his pursuer, not that he was only getting himself more and more lost in the dense backstreets of this strange city.
Soon enough, the sounds of chase fell off, and Izuku allowed himself to slow down, his chest heaving with each breath. Finally stopping, he planted both hands on a wall and bent over, fighting the urge to retch up his ill-gotten gains, the churning in his stomach caused half by guilt, half by over-exertion.
Allowing himself to rest for a few more moments, Izuku finally straightened back up and turned away from the wall, surveying the new area he found himself in. Like everywhere else he had been in this city, it was packed with stalls lining the narrow streets, selling all manner of goods, from piles of spices to bolts of silk to what seemed to be raw chunks of wood. Unlike before, though, this area seemed to be entirely built over, with a roof of wooden planks casting the entire street in shade. Through the cracks Izuku could see people above, walking and doing business.
Slowly making his way into the street, Izuku rolled his eyes up, trying to catch a glimpse of the stone apparently embedded in his skull, to no avail. Turning his attention to the stalls, he began perusing their wares, hoping to find a mirror. He couldn’t find one, but did find a piece of slate, carved with unrecognizable words. More importantly, it was polished so finely he could make out his reflection in the light gray stone.
Turning so his face was better lit by the stall owner’s torch, he held the slate up to reflect his face. Sure enough, a large white stone, reminiscent of pure-white opal, protruded from his forehead, catching the light and scattering it across the dimly-lit street. Izuku quickly turned away from the torch, once again casting his face in the shade - judging by how that vendor had acted, the stone might be valuable, and he didn’t want to draw any undue attention to it. Putting the slate back down, he muttered a quick thanks and bowed to the shopkeeper, then continued on.
He would need some way to cover up the stone. Thinking for a moment, he unbuttoned and pulled off the outer layer of his school uniform, leaving just the white button-up base layer. Wrapping it around his head, Izuku formed a crude turban out of the jacket. It adequately covered his forehead, but he would need to find something a little less conspicuous.
‘...Now what?’ The immediate problem temporarily dealt with, Izuku’s thoughts once again turned back to the situation he found himself in. He was stranded in a city he didn’t recognize, didn’t speak the language, and his phone was broken. What would All Might do? Even as his thoughts turned to his usual source of inspiration, Izuku felt himself deflate, memories of their conversation returning.
“Some villains just can’t be beaten without powers. So can you be a hero? Not without a Quirk.”
“Right… he would probably just jump up and reach the top in a single leap, then figure out where he was without any trouble at all.” Izuku muttered to himself, cursing his quirklessness for the millionth time.
With a sigh, Izuku continued his slow exploration of the market, the makeshift turban covering the stone on his forehead serving as a constant reminder of his predicament. The diverse array of stalls offered a small distraction from his worries, as he marveled at the unfamiliar goods on display and attempted to decipher the unfamiliar language on the signs. All the while, though, the weight of uncertainty bore down on him. Should he keep wandering aimlessly through the labyrinthine streets, hoping to stumble upon a solution, or should he approach someone for help, even though communication would be near impossible?
As Izuku meandered through the market, he couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. Uncomfortable, he shoved his hands in his pockets and drew in on himself, trying to be as uninteresting as possible. Exiting the alley he had been in, Izuku rounded the corner, only to crash face-first into a large green stomach.
Looking up, Izuku froze as he recognized the features of the food vendor. A moment later, the vendor’s nostrils flared and his lips curled in anger, a snarl erupting from his throat. Izuku narrowly dodged a punch, backing up only to find himself pressed up against an ox cart that had pulled up behind him.
Izuku's heart raced as he found himself cornered, the angry vendor closing in on him with a furious expression. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his mind racing for a way out of this situation as the vendor reared back for another strike. In the tight space between the cart and the vendor, he didn't have much room to maneuver.
Panicked, Izuku's eyes fell upon a stack of wooden crates nearby. With a surge of determination, he lunged towards them, vaulting over the crates to land on the other side. The vendor's swipe missed its mark, hitting the crates with a loud crash instead.
Izuku wasted no time. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted away, his heart pounding in his chest.
‘I need to get out of here.’
Izuku yelped as the hammer impacted his hand, causing a sharp bite of pain, rather than drive the nail into the wood. Cursing, he instinctively brought his hand up to his mouth to suck on the injury, forgetting that he had been holding the rest of the stack of flyers he was tasked to put up in that hand. The flyers scattered all over the floor, prompting another soft curse from Izuku.
He had spent the last three days - he thought, he honestly wasn’t sure how to tell time when the sun never seemed to move - in the dense, busy streets of this city. The first day was spent walking, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the area he had arrived at, not trusting that he wouldn’t run into trouble.
Luckily, the next two days seemed to look up, as he had run into a short, bearded man who seemed to be sympathetic to Izuku’s circumstance and had, through vague pantomime, offered him a job - do various menial jobs for his small shop, and in return get paid enough to eat and a small room to sleep in.
It was far from comfortable, but it beat going hungry on the streets, and so Izuku had readily accepted. Currently he was hanging flyers at one of the more popular gathering posts, having had to squeeze through a throng of people to reach it.
Izuku stooped down, gathering the flyers from under the feet of the crowd, dismayed as he realized they were torn and dirty. Still, some must be recoverable, and so he continued gathering, not noticing the movement of the crowd around him until he was pushed to the ground.
Quickly scrambling to his feet, Izuku reached up to make sure his hat, a rough and heavy skullcap that caused his hair to stick out wildly from the brim, was still in place. Satisfied that it was, he tuned into the movement around him, and cursed for the third time in as many minutes. In his haste to fix his error, he had forgotten the time. Once a day, seemingly by public consensus, the road cleared, allowing traffic through for several hours. Those that didn’t pack up and move their stalls out of the way in time were, if they were lucky, caught up in the flow of traffic and carried away. If they were unlucky, they were beaten by the travelers and roughly thrown aside, their stall smashed underneath thousands of feet.
Understandably, everyone tried to avoid this fate, causing a near stampede of vendors and shoppers pushing to get out of the road. Izuku had only witnessed the crushing crowd from a distance, but now he found himself caught directly in the middle of it. Trying to keep upright against the shoving, Izuku squeezed himself between two much larger shoppers, panicking briefly as he felt himself get stuck between them, unable to breath, before finally popping out on the other side with a gasp.
Repeating the process, Izuku shoved and ducked his way through the crowd, making steady progress until he finally reached the outer edge where the people dispersed down different side streets and alleys, vendors already forcing their way into impossibly tight crevices to set up shop once again.
Taking a moment to orient himself, Izuku chose a direction and headed back towards his employer’s shop, already preparing himself for disappointment - despite the language barrier, the old man always seemed to know when Izuku did a less than satisfactory job, and paid accordingly. With all the fliers lost, he would be lucky if he got enough to buy dinner with.
His thoughts on other matters, it took Izuku a good fifteen minutes before he noticed that his hat was missing, and his stone was once again exposed to the world. His fingers instinctively went to touch the stone, his anxiety growing. Ever since he had arrived in this unfamiliar place, the stone seemed to attract unwanted attention, which was why he had taken to always wearing the impromptu turban whenever he went out.
Settling for merely covering the stone with his hand and once again ducking to make himself smaller. Despite his efforts, he could see individuals in the crowd around him looking at him, some openly staring, while others turned away to get the attention of their companions, pointing at Izuku.
Izuku picked up his pace, not wanting to spend any more time out in public than needed. Fate conspired to spite him once again, though, as several figures watched him with hungry eyes as he passed. Hurrying past them, Izuku felt his heart thunder in his chest. Had they seen it before he could cover it? He prayed that he was being paranoid, only to jump as a shout sounded out from behind him.
Glancing behind him, Izuku saw the small gang stood up from where they were lounging, the group composed mostly of humans, though one of the small, strange black-bodied and blue-faced creatures was with them. They stalked towards Izuku as he stood frozen in place. Could he somehow talk his way out of this? Maybe if he babbled at them, they’d get bored and leave him alone?
Izuku pushed the thoughts out of his mind, knowing that he would once again need to run. Dropping his hand from where it rested on his forehead, he tightened his hands into fists, preparing himself - these people all seemed younger and fitter than the portly vendor he had run from three days ago, and losing them wouldn’t be easy.
The gang was closing in on him, their hungry eyes fixated on him like predators tracking their prey. With a determined grimace, he took a deep breath and sprung into action, swiftly pivoting on his heel and darting down a narrow alleyway.
He stumbled over his own feet as he rushed forward, his mind racing for a way to escape. The shouts from behind only fueled his adrenaline further, and he knew he had to do something, anything, to shake off his pursuers.
As he raced through the alleyway, his breath came in short, ragged gasps. His limbs felt heavy, and his heart pounded painfully in his chest - escaping from the earlier crowd has taken more out of him than he realized. The realization that he couldn't outrun these people simply through speed hit him hard. He needed a plan, and he needed it fast.
Spotting a makeshift ladder propped up against a nearby wall, Izuku's mind raced. He quickly climbed the ladder, his fingers trembling with a mix of fear and determination. The gang members were closing in, their footsteps growing louder with each passing second. He reached the top of the ladder and found himself on a rooftop, his lungs burning from the effort.
Izuku's gaze darted around, searching for any possible escape route. His options were limited, and his lack of physical prowess was a constant reminder of the odds stacked against him. He spotted a series of narrow ledges and pipes that crisscrossed between buildings, and he knew he had to take a risk.
Swallowing hard, he made a daring leap to the closest ledge, his hands thrust out to either side as he fought to maintain his balance. His heart was in his throat as he carefully navigated his way along the precarious path. The gang members shouted in frustration from below, their voices filled with anger.
Izuku's muscles trembled as he continued his escape route, his every move a struggle. He knew that even a single mistake could spell disaster, causing him to fall down below to where his assailants were still chasing from beneath.
The chase led him through a maze of narrow alleys and twisting pathways, his body pushed to its limits. His clothes were soaked with sweat, and his lungs burned with exertion. He stumbled more than once, his heart pounding in his chest.
After what felt like an eternity, their shouts died down and Izuku allowed himself to slow and take stock of where he was. Taking several moments to catch his breath, he looked down below, not recognizing the alley he found himself in - not surprising, considering how many thousands seemed to make up the city. From his vantage point on a pipe running along the side of a building, Izuku could only see one other person - a large, dark-skinned woman tending to the sign of her shop.
She seemed to notice she was being watched, and looked up to meet Izuku’s eyes. They locked gazes for a moment, before she seemed to lose interest and turned away, heading back inside her shop, the smell of delicious food wafting out when she opened the door.
Izuku waited a minute before dropping back down to street level, only to immediately regret his decision, his heart dropping into his stomach as a familiar gang rounded the corner, pausing as they noticed him.
“Crap.” Izuku glanced behind himself, not seeing any way back up to the relative safety of the pipe without some serious climbing. The alley stretched out for at least a thousand feet with no turn offs as well - there was no way he would be able to escape before they overtook him.
The gang began jeering at him as they seemed to realize his lack of options as well, taking their time to stalk toward him with all the casual grace of a lion sneaking up on a gazelle.
As the group closed in on Izuku, his heart raced, and his mind raced even faster. He had to think quickly, but panic threatened to consume him. Just as he was about to make a desperate move towards the wall to attempt to climb it, he noticed a glint of movement from the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw the imposing figure of the dark-skinned woman emerging once again from her shop, a long straight sword held casually by its sheath.
Izuku's gaze darted back and forth between the gang and the shopkeeper, uncertain of what was happening. The shopkeeper yelled something at his pursuers, her voice sharp and commanding. The gang members seemed taken aback, their jeers turning into grumbling and uneasy shuffling.
The woman's presence and commanding demeanor seemed to have a powerful effect on the gang. The tension in the alleyway had palpably shifted, and the balance of power seemed to swing in a new direction. Izuku's heart still pounded, but he felt a glimmer of hope.
With a final glare at the gang that sent them scurrying away, the shopkeeper turned her attention back to Izuku. She gestured for him to come closer, her expression a mix of curiosity and something else he couldn't quite place. Hesitant, Izuku cautiously approached the woman, his senses on high alert.
As soon as he was within arms reach, she reached forward and gripped his chin in a single strangely warm hand, maneuvering his head this way and that, eyes locked on his stone, seemingly inspecting it. Worried she was no different than the gang she had just scared off, Izuku tried to pull away, only to find himself unable to - her grip was intense, holding him rooted in place by his chin. He had no choice but to submit to the inspection, not saying anything as he knew it would be pointless.
After a few more seconds, the woman seemed satisfied and released him. As Izuku reached up to rub his chin, she barked out an order, causing him to jump slightly as she used her sheathed sword to push open the door to her shop, gesturing for him to enter.
Warily, Izuku followed her direction, stepping into a cramped restaurant as hot air washed over his face. She followed in behind him, pulling a stool out from where it sat beneath the bar as she crossed into the tiny attached kitchen. Izuku, understanding the implicit command, sat down and waited as she reached up and began rifling through the collection of glass bottles on a shelf above them.
A moment later, she let out a grunt of satisfaction and pulled out a squat, round bottle. Though the glass was darkened, Izuku felt his bile rise as he saw a small blue embryo floating inside, taking up most of the space within the bottle.
It was all he could do to keep from vomiting when she brought out a small shot glass from below the counter and uncorked the bottle, pouring a generous slug of the blue-tinged drink. Was she really going to drink that?
Izuku felt himself pale as she proved that no, she wasn’t going to - instead, she pushed the shot across the bar at him, and fixed him with an expectant glare.
“I-I’m really not supposed to be drinking, I’m underage and cou-” Izuku stuttered an excuse, only to be cut off as she rapped the handle of her sword against the bar and barked another unintelligible but all too clear order at him. Drink.
With a trembling hand, Izuku reached forward and picked up the shot, willing himself to ignore the bottle still sitting on the bar, displaying exactly what he was drinking. With a deep breath to steel himself, he counted to three, then before he could lose his nerve, opened his mouth and threw the shot back.
The taste didn’t register at first, but when it did, it hit Izuku with all the strength of a speeding truck. The drink tasted like hot tar and rotting fish, and it was all he could do to avoid the urge to spit it out, and instead forced it down. Once he swallowed, he was pleased to notice that there was very little aftertaste, and sat gasping, hunched over the bar. Forget the scrapes with the local gang life - this drink was by far the worst thing to happen to him since he arrived here.
He stewed in his misery for another moment, before another rap from the woman demanded his attention. Looking up with tear-filled eyes - that drink was really bad - Izuku wondered what else this obvious maniac would demand of him.
“So, you’re the one that’s been lighting up the Glyphosphere.”
Izuku merely stared for a moment, processing what she had just said. He had no clue what a ‘glyphosphere’ was, but… wait.
“I can understand you?!”