Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The flat smelled like mildew and old socks, was the first thing Izuku Midoriya noticed upon walking in.

It was annoying enough that the lock was old and the appliances were rusting, now he had to deal with the smell, too? He set down his bags and leaned his suitcase against the wall before heading over to the windows. He walked room to room, opening the windows and airing out the space.

He could fix the smell by that night, and worry about the rusty stove later. He just wouldn’t use it for some time.

Even with its issues, Izuku was ecstatic to finally have his own place. It had been a year-long argument with his mother, who spent ages begging him not to go so far away.

After his ‘mental break’ in junior high, his mother had moved them to a small town far, far away from Musutafu. It was recommended to her by the doctors that giving him a fresh start would be beneficial, but Izuku was rather certain they hadn’t meant for her to go so extreme. She kept him in school, practically forcing him to enter university as an excuse for him to stay close to home. He’d attended one nearby, and even after that, his mother didn’t even entertain a conversation of him moving out for another year.

It was impossible for Izuku to bring it up, since any mention of it would cause her to break down in tears. He couldn’t possibly cause his mother any more distress than he already had. So he stayed quiet, worked a simple job in a small coffee shop, and kept his growing itch to himself.

Until one day, his two worlds came crashing into one. He’d only just got off of work, and had taken his time walking home, enjoying the scenery he’d grown accustomed to over the years. The first few years were difficult. Every day reminded him to feel guilty. Every time he woke up, heard his mother crying, or saw something that reminded him of the past, of the person that drove him from home.

It took years to stop feeling guilty for living, and even longer to go from feeling numb to wanting to live again. He’d say the first time he thought about the future again was probably near the end of his second year in university. After that, a dam broke. He had a heartfelt conversation with his mother, with many tears from both of them, and began to grow. He began to breathe again.

He’d say he’d all but forgotten about junior high. Up until the visit from Mitsuki Bakugou. For a moment, when he turned the corner onto his street, walked up the sidewalk, and lifted his gaze from his phone to see her standing in front of his door, he thought it was him.

“Kacchan?” It was an accident, a slip of the tongue, a word he hadn’t spoken in ages. And yet it had come as naturally as anything. It was a reminder that he still hadn’t really moved on. Still hadn’t forgotten. Still blamed himself.

Mrs. Bakugou turned to face him, and it was then he realized who it was. There were more lines on her face, and a tiredness he hadn’t seen in her eyes before, but other than that, she looked the same as she did in his memory.

The door opened, and his mother stepped out. Her eyes landed on Mrs. Bakugou’s mother, emotions flashing across her face one after the other: shock, pain, confusion, relief, anger, and finally, careful neutrality.

“Izuku, dear, will you watch the stove for me? I’m making your favorite for dinner tonight.” She flashed a smile at him, though it was void of her usual sparkle.

Izuku nodded and slipped inside quietly, hanging his head, memories and emotions from those days hitting him along with a wave of nausea. It was like he was back there. Living as that meek child that still tried so hard to be loud, be strong, be kind.

He entered the kitchen, not bothering to turn the lights on, and paused in front of the stove.

There was nothing there.

Like a switch flipped, Izuku Midoriya fell to his knees, one hand clutching the counter, the other covering his mouth as his breaths ran ragged. The tiled floor turned in circles as the malicious laughter of young teenagers rang in his ears. Taunting voices called him, smiles twisted in disgust and entertainment danced in front of his eyes.

He had long since become an adult. He’d been in therapy. He’d healed, gotten over all these things. So why did it feel like he was right back where he’d been eight years ago? All the progress he’d made, gone. Just like that.

Had he even healed? Or had he just ran away from all these feelings? Had he pushed everything so far back into the corners of his mind, allowing his wounds to fester just out of sight until something would draw them back?

His mother returned not long later, and it was then that he made up his mind. At dinner that night, he brought it up to his mother, bracing himself for the inevitable fight.

“I can’t keep living here.”

Instead of tearing up, his mother sighed and took a sip of her water, placing the cup down slowly and deliberately. She stared down at her plate, nearly untouched. She smiled, weariness creeping into her voice.

“I know.”

Chapter Text

Not long after Mrs. Bakugou’s visit, his mother finally let go of most of her reservations and sat Izuku down to discuss moving.

“Have you found any places you want to move to?”

Izuku hesitated to admit he planned to move back to the city his mother had grown to hate. “I’ve been looking.” He averted his gaze, turning to stare at the All Might poster on his door. His mother still thought he idolized him. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that his obsession with the number one hero had waned years ago.

Heroes in general meant very little to him at that point. Unfortunately, he hadn’t managed to escape the occasional news from UA. Whether it was about the winner of the sports festival, graduating hero classes, or scandals caused by a few unsavory events. He wasn’t able to avoid news of the class he could’ve graduated with, if he’d only been lucky enough to have a quirk.

His obsession with quirks, heroes, and becoming one had all but ruined his mother. It had ended up taking her away from her friends and convinced her to stop using her quirk around him completely. As if that would help him feel better.

“If you don’t have any in mind, I found a nice apartment an hour away. It’s close enough that you can visit home whenever you need to, and I can go over to you if you need or want me to. I can help you pay for it too if you like it.” She passed her phone over to him, motioning for him to look at the images.

The apartment did look nice. Really nice. But it was even farther from the city than the town.

There was no avoiding it, was there? “Mom, I want to move back to Musutafu.” It was as if he’d just admitted to murder. The silence surrounded them, thick and oppressing. His mother’s hand tightened around her phone, and Izuku stared at his hands, forcing himself not to look at her. If he saw her face, he’d surely break.

“Why would you ever want to go back there? Is this because of Mitsuki?” Izuku wrung out his hands. “I don’t want you back there, please, sweetie.”

“I don’t want to run anymore. Mrs. Bakugou’s visit made me realize that I’m still not over it. I don’t think I’ll ever move on unless I go back and confront everything. I’ll call you every day. I’ll stay safe, I promise.”

“But-”

“I need to do this, mom.” He glanced up, staring at his mother through his bangs, watching her face contort between desperation, anguish, and contemplation. She was obviously torn, and once again, those guilty feelings rose in his stomach like bodies floating to the surface of a body of water.

“I don’t see any good coming of this.” She stood from her seat at the table, leaving her phone and walking off into her room. Izuku couldn’t bring himself to move. He sat silent and still as a statue, eyes fixed on the images on his mother’s phone. Even when she started crying, sobs muffled, he found himself stuck in place. Even as tears dripped from his own eyes, not a single muscle in his body relaxed.

These stressful and tear-filled conversations continued for months until he was finally able to bargain a yes out of his mother. After she gave her okay, Izuku began preparations to move in earnest. He didn’t take much, just a few travel bags and a suitcase. He’d take care of everything else once over there.

He was gone within the week, traveling alone despite his mother’s complaints. About half a day of travel later and he was standing in front of his dingy flat. There was no reason for him to get such an awful place, except for the fact that it was the closest place he could get to his old home.

After opening the windows, he got to work cleaning the rooms, using the few cleaning supplies he’d brought with. He wiped the grime out of the mirrors and window sills, dusted the various furniture, and disinfected the fridge. Eventually, he decided to take a walk around the city in order to buy a broom—maybe even a mop if he was feeling fancy. He also needed to get takeout if he planned to eat that night.

It must’ve been nearing eight at night by the time he stepped inside a corner store and purchased a crappy plastic broom that’d likely break after a month or two of use. He’d come back later for a mop.

He’d been unconsciously ignoring his surroundings during the short walk, avoiding any of the shops, restaurants, or landmarks that hadn’t changed. He certainly didn’t even approach the direction of his school.

He didn’t want to, didn’t plan to, but dropping off the broom in his apartment suddenly led to strangely nostalgic feelings. He found himself walking towards his junior high without realizing it. His mind was uncomfortably quiet, as if thinking would ruin the moment. He did not think, did not process where he was going, did not consider that this might be a mistake.

His feet dragged him all the way to the front of his school, shrouded in darkness. It looked exactly the same as he remembered it. From where he stood, he could see the exact spot his life had ended. Only metaphorically, of course.

He gripped his left shoulder without meaning to, rubbing circles over where he knew his old scar remained. The scar that had come from a desperate surgery to save his shattered arm. He’d fallen down at an awkward angle, and instead of dropping onto his head, he slammed into his shoulder. He’d nearly fractured his neck. Key word, nearly.

Izuku couldn’t tell if this was a good idea or not. The air grew colder as each moment passed, until there were barely any civilians out and walking the streets. He waited, stood quietly and stared with unwavering focus at the building that caged him for years. The moon was high in the sky by the time he finally pulled his focus away, thanks to an older hero tapping him on the shoulder and asking if he was alright.

Izuku simply nodded, thanked him, and left. It was too late for takeout at that point, so he found the nearest convenience store and bought the first edible thing his eyes landed on.

He kept his eyes on his feet on the way back, munching quietly on the bag of chips he’d ended up with. He felt calm. Apathetic, even. He expected to be more distressed after seeing that place again. But he was fine. Perfectly fine.

________________________________________________________________

By morning, the smell had finally left his home, and he relished in the fresh air. After five deep breaths, Izuku pulled himself out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He took a quick shower, washed his face, fixed his hair, brushed his teeth, and dressed. He fixed himself up nicely, deciding that day would be dedicated to finding a job.

His first stop was the library four blocks away, where he printed out a few copies of his resume. He tried the smaller shops first, looking mostly for family owned establishments with hiring signs outside. There were a few restaurants, a corner store, and a bakery.

The bakery was his last stop, mostly because he didn’t want to walk in there. It was packed. Unusually so, for a family owned business. It wasn’t like it was a chained establishment, nor did it seem like a grand opening. He couldn’t see any signs of crazy deals either.

Still, he enjoyed bakeries. He steeled himself and walked in, lucky enough that the rush had died away since he’d first walked past the place. He waited behind the one other person in line, pinching the final resume copy between his fingers.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

A young, frazzled boy greeted him with a smile. Izuku flashed a smile back.

“Hi, I saw you were hiring. I didn’t see any applications online, is there a paper copy I could fill out?”

“Oh, yes! One moment.” The boy disappeared behind the counter. Izuku took the chance to observe the inside. Tables lined the walls, filled with unusually enthusiastic customers. The interior was painted a deep burgundy, a dark, sleepy color. Plants hung in weaved baskets from hooks on the ceiling, dispersed between strings of fairy lights and corner lamps.

The employee reemerged, holding a paper out to Izuku. He took it with a polite word of thanks and resolved to complete it outside. It didn’t take long. It was relatively standard; there were questions about his work history, personal information, and criminal history.

He stepped back inside, handed the paper to the employee, and looked up just in time to see a woman with short brown hair, brown eyes, and bright pink cheeks emerge from the kitchen.

“Uravity!” Someone squealed from behind him, and suddenly he was swarmed, surrounded on all sides by a crowd of unruly customers.

A headline he’d seen in the paper around two weeks ago came to mind. It was an article he hadn’t bothered reading, considering he was trying to put space between himself and the world of heroes, but it had briefly caught his attention. A relatively new Pro-hero by the name of Uravity had opened a bakery that was somehow involved in charity.

He managed to worm his way out of the crowd of people, already panicking about his grave error. He hadn’t realized this establishment was owned by a hero. He wouldn’t have even entered if he knew. Hopefully one of the other places he applied to would take him.

It dawned on him, horribly slowly and with growing dread, that if he were to be given a position here, and nowhere else, he’d have no choice but to accept. He didn’t have the luxury of waiting around for another opportunity.

That sounded exactly like something he didn’t need.

Chapter Text

Over the course of a week, Izuku had applied to just about every job he could find online and in person. In between applying to jobs, he’d found time to explore the neighborhood, slowly growing comfortable with the area again. It’d also become a habit to visit his old junior high in the evenings. He didn’t think it was healthy by any means, but he couldn’t help it. He really had no other choice.

On nights where he refused to follow the urges to go look at it, he couldn’t sleep. He’d toss and turn all night, waiting for his brain to slow to no avail. All he could think about was that place. About what happened, what didn’t happen, and what might’ve happened if he’d stayed. How different would his life be, if they hadn’t moved away so quickly. Would he be worse or better off?

Dwelling on it certainly didn’t help him in his endeavors to move on.

Cleaning helped. Cleaning was good. Cleaning had to be symbolic of something, right? Clearing away the old dirt to make his home, his safe place, polished and welcoming. A place he wanted to be.

He cleaned obsessively. He rubbed at the windowsill until he’d used up an entire container of wipes. He dusted his counters until the paint began to rub off. He swept the floors until the bristles on the broom fell off. He cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. Anything to feel a little better.

Two weeks later, he’d received responses from five of the places he’d applied to, including two emails of rejection. The other three had him come in for an interview, but only one accepted him.

He must be cursed. He had to be. He’d wished for one thing and one thing only. The only thing he had hoped to go right in years.

He spent the next four days in a panic. A panic worse than what he’d felt during his cleaning episodes. He was listless. He’d sit at his dining table, bouncing his leg and muttering under his breath. After a minute of that, he’d stand, knock the chair backwards, and spend the next hour pacing his flat in silence.

The fifth day ended very similarly to the other four. He tossed and turned on his bed, hoping he wouldn’t begin hallucinating or have any severe health issues pop up because of the lack of sleep. It took him around an hour of laying there before he sprang up, grabbed his coat, phone, wallet, and keys, and walked out the door.

He sped down the street, moving with all the purpose of a deranged criminal. He probably looked like one too, all considered.

He’d meant to go to his junior high again. He meant to just peacefully stand there once more, gather himself and his thoughts, and head back home to sleep. He really did. Yet, his feet ended up carrying him the opposite direction, jerking his body around corner after corner until he came to a stop in front of the bakery.

What was he supposed to do there, anyway? What had been his purpose in going? The shop was closed, dark and silent. A door creaked open somewhere in the alley beside the bakery, and a few cheerful voices filtered past his ears.

“See you later, Bakugou!”

He was in the alley before he knew it. Something just told him to move, told him to see who this voice was calling after. Even with nausea flipping his stomach, it was an urge similar to the urge to visit his school. One impossible to refuse.

The alleyway connected to the buildings that ran along it, including the bakery, which seemed to be where these people came from. He recognized the owner of the bakery from his encounter with her weeks prior, but drew a blank on who the other three standing near her could be.

None of them were who he was looking for.

Uravity, the owner, was the first to notice him. Izuku watched her gaze shift into concern with a careful dose of caution as she observed him. He must look horrible. His body trembled with the force of an earthquake beneath his feet, his hands clenched into fists tight enough to pierce his skin, and his teeth chattered with each gust of icy wind that penetrated the defenses of his thin coat.

The other three people turned to face him, faces twisting into similar expressions, although some held more wariness than others. One with a scar across half his face stared with an even expression of distrust, one in attire that looked like a suit of armour had his face concealed beneath a helmet, and the last one watched him with more concern than Uravity.

“Are you alright, sir?” Uravity spoke up, stepping ahead of the others and layering her voice in kind, worried tones. Sickly sweet and unnecessarily careful.

“Uhm–yes, sorry. I–I just thought my cat might’ve ran down here. I’m very sorry.” He lied with ease, tilting forwards into a bow and releasing his fists, instead turning to wringing out his hands again. It was instinctive, the lie. What could’ve prompted such a specific lie, he had no clue. All that mattered was that it felt natural.

The last one, a pink-skinned woman he vaguely remembered seeing in some paper, spoke up. “Oh! Would you like us to help look? We’d be happy to lend a hand!” She grinned, all teeth, and stuck out a thumbs up.

The one in the armour nodded stiffly. “Certainly! You can count on us, civilian!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to waste your time. It was my fault she got out, I left the door open when I was bringing in groceries.” He turned his attention to the ground, praying they’d let it go and attend to whatever other responsibilities they had.

“You won’t be wasting our time at all!” Uravity was about four feet from him, eyebrows turned up with concern. Izuku forcibly stopped a shiver. “Pro Heroes are here to help, no matter the problem!” She mimicked the other woman’s gesture.

“O–Okay…” He relented quietly. He’d find a way out of this somehow.

“Great! Then we’ll split up and start looking. Could you tell us what your cat looks like?”

“She’s small, black, short-haired, and feisty. She’s a rescue, and she still isn’t used to people.” That described enough strays that he could get away with claiming a random one as a temporary pet, right?

“Got it! While everyone spreads out to look, why don’t I search with you?” Uravity smiled, as if her presence was reassuring. It wasn’t. She was going to be his boss in two days, and he was lying about having some lost cat to make it seem like he was supposed to be out, and definitely wasn’t a criminal. It was normal for him to look like this if he was panicking about his cat, after all. Searching for a beloved pet was the furthest he could get from criminal behavior, truly.

“Okay, thank you.” He began walking down the alley, Uravity following beside him.

“Say, what’s your cat’s name?”

“Finny.”

“Aw, that’s a cute name.” Uravity giggled. “We can’t yell out to find her since it’s the middle of the night, but maybe if we see her, she’ll come when called, right?”

“Maybe. I-I still don’t know if she recognizes her name.” This lie of his was beginning to snowball. He needed to find a way out of it quickly, unless he wanted to get caught.

They emerged on the other side of the alley, turning left and right to search for any signs of a cat. “Which way do you think she went?”

“Left? There’s a barbeque place there. I took her on a walk by it once.” He’d walked by it himself, and had seen a plethora of strays fighting over food scraps in the corner nearby. Hopefully, one small black cat would be there.

“Alright, we’ll go left then!” Uravity took the lead while Izuku trailed behind her, brainstorming potential escape plans.

His saving grace came in the way of misfortune for another. Namely, the misfortune of a cat. They turned the corner leading up to the restaurant, and while the hoard of cats contained not one that matched his description, one lying dead on the street did. It hadn’t been dead long, either. The corpse was still untouched by other strays, bugs, and birds. They hadn’t yet marred its remains. It was the perfect escape.

He didn’t dwell on the realization that he’d never felt such a lack of empathy for a previously living creature before.

“Oh.” Izuku whispered, feigning shock and terror as much as he could. He certainly felt some level of pity for the poor cat, especially considering it looked so young, but his natural reaction wouldn’t be nearly strong enough for an actual pet owner.

A small gasp sounded beside him and Uravity covered her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sir.” She whispered.

Izuku stepped over to the cat’s body, breathing a sigh of relief when Uravity stayed on the sidewalk. He crouched down beside it, stared into its empty eyes, and whispered a gentle apology. “I’m sorry.”

He removed his coat and laid it over the cat before gently lifting it and wrapping the coat around it. The cat was horribly light, and Izuku could only imagine how difficult its short life must have been.

A shimmery cat-shaped mirage swirled in his vision, ten feet behind the cat’s body, and Izuku nearly died from a heart attack right there himself. He reminded himself that he hadn’t gotten sleep in days and it disappeared. It was only a hallucination, obviously.

He turned and walked back to Uravity, who had once again been joined by her hero companions. She must’ve called them. All wore identical expressions of pity—perhaps sorrow if he was feeling generous. “Will you bury or cremate her?”

It seemed like far too personal a question for a stranger to ask, but he answered all the same.

“I don’t have the space for a grave and don’t have the money to have her cremated.” He was thinking of leaving her somewhere quiet, maybe within a forest somewhere, where she might be at peace.

“I’ll fund any expenses, if you’d like.” The mirage reappeared beside Uraraka. The mirage hissed at her, tail swishing violently, before turning back to him and falling quiet.

He needed rest. At least he didn’t need to drive home. “No, that’s alright. I don’t want her cremated.” The mirage mewed, then ignored him in favor of cleaning its corporeal paws. It seemed to like that response. “I’d prefer to keep how I want to lay her to rest private.” Izuku couldn’t tear his eyes away from the hallucination purring on the sidewalk. He just wanted to wrap the conversation up. He wanted to go home.

“Okay, well, if you ever need anything, please let us know.” Uravity handed him a business card, stepping through the hallucination which, in turn, yowled and hissed.

Izuku took the business card and bid his quiet farewells before hurrying away from the heroes. He ignored the mournful whispers behind him, resolutely deciding that he would be ignoring that night’s events from then on.

And that meant throwing the business card in the nearest dumpster he found. A perfect solution; it wasn’t like he’d have to see her again. It wasn’t like she was his new boss.

Izuku scoffed, sidestepping the mirage leaning against his legs and ignoring its indignant cries.

He must be cursed. He just had to be.

Chapter Text

His nerves had settled after the alley encounter, so Izuku spent the next two days catching up on sleep, mentally preparing himself for his first shift at the bakery.

He slept for probably close to twenty hours total over the two days, and while it certainly didn’t make up for his previous lack of sleep, it was a start. It should have at least made the hallucination go away.

After leaving the heroes, he’d gone to a small park nearby and buried that cat’s body in a shallow grave. It was all he could offer. He at least hoped it would put it at peace. Maybe he was being haunted by a guilty conscience. He’d taken advantage of a dead cat to fulfill a lie against heroes. It certainly wasn’t a sign of a good person at the very least.

The hallucination followed him home, staying near the edges of his peripheral vision. He ignored it the best he could and continued to do so over the next two days as it lingered in his apartment. Exploring like how he expected any real cat would.

As he readied himself for his first day at work, he noticed the cat sitting, watching him. It hadn’t paid him any mind since the night it appeared. Izuku ignored it, grabbed his keys and headed out the door, hoping it wouldn’t follow him.

During the walk down to the bakery, he continued to glance around, waiting for the hallucination to pop up again. It didn’t. The longer he went without seeing the hallucination, the more he thought about why he was seeing things. It should warrant a trip to the hospital, or maybe a therapist.

The bakery came into view, and Izuku’s current concerns were quickly replaced with a building feeling of dread at just how many people were there. It was even worse than the day he’d applied. Reluctantly, Izuku dragged his feet through the door and waved at the white-haired employee behind the counter. Along with him, there was a second employee taking orders.

Much to his displeasure, Uravity was in uniform, taking orders from the customers in line. Surprisingly, they were being relatively respectful. The idea that the hero who owned the establishment would also do the same work as any other employee there struck Izuku as unbelievable; it had to be a publicity stunt.

“Come on back!” The other employee called.

Yeah, worrying about a hero’s intentions was above his pay grade.

The employee led him into the back and showed him where to put his stuff, standing idly as he situated himself.

Izuku practically shoved his lunchbox and sweater into the locker, shutting it and turning to the other man for further instruction. He seemed to be a few years older than Izuku was, but still carried himself like a somewhat grumpy teenager. His grey eyes held a certain boredom that Izuku recognized from a few past classmates.

“I’m Natsuo Todoroki.” He stuck out a hand and Izuku obliged by shaking it.

“Izuku Midoriya.”

Natsuo nodded, glancing back towards the front. “Today’s gonna be one hell of a day to train. Would’ve been better to start on a day Uraraka isn’t here.”

Izuku tilted his head. “About that. Does Uravity usually work here too, or is this temporary?”

Natsuo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, she’s here twice a week on her days off from hero work. Sure helps sales, but man is it exhausting. And I’m only here out of the goodness of my heart. Too bad our off days line up so well.”

Izuku nodded. So this wasn’t his job? He wondered how close the man had to be to Uravity to work for her as a favor. Did that mean she struggled to get employees, too? Was she a difficult boss to work for?

“Anyway, let’s get started.”

________________________________________________________

Izuku thought about quitting at least once every half hour that first shift. Still, he needed the job. He worked for six hours, four of which Uravity was there for. Business only slowed to a reasonable pace once she had left, and even then it took nearly an hour for them to have a moment of peace.

On the bright side, he hadn’t seen the cat once. He was hopeful that it was fully gone at that point, only to then open the door of his apartment to see a fully solid cat.

“Sorry?” He blurted out, staring in confusion at the cat purring and rubbing against his legs.

It was definitely the cat he buried, it even had a scar over the wound on its abdomen, and it looked just as ragged and skinny as the dead one had. But it was alive. And solid. And warm.

Izuku closed the door and pulled up the route to the nearest hospital.

He just wanted to sit and rest, maybe relax with a cliche drama before trying to get some sleep. Unfortunately, it seemed that was not in the cards for him. Instead, he headed straight out of the apartment building and sped towards the hospital, a twenty-minute walk away.

He passed his junior high on the way. He noticed the hero from before waiting for him. It’d probably become routine for him; every day, Izuku would stand there in a trance, and every day, the hero would break him out of it and see him home. He half wondered why the hero hadn’t called any mental health services on him. He waved to the man and continued on. Luckily, the hero didn’t follow him. He just seemed glad Izuku didn’t stop.

He might’ve, if he didn’t think he was currently dying from a tumor or something in his brain.

He crossed into a park, noticing that it cut across his path and would shave a few minutes from his walk.

At a bench directly in front of him sat an old man. Corporeal. Another hallucination. This had to be the end. Izuku had finally managed to move out and start building his own life only to die from some undiagnosed tumor. It was over, all he’d worked for, gone just like that. It would’ve been less cruel if it had happened when he had little will to live.

The new hallucination stared off into the distance for a moment longer before turning to face him. Izuku stopped dead in his tracks, debating how to handle the situation he found himself in. Should he give up on walking to the hospital and just call an ambulance?

He could probably just walk around the guy sitting at the table, right?

“Come sit.”

Izuku pulled out his phone.

“Doctors won’t be able to help you. This is because of your quirk.”

His thumb paused over the dial button. “What do you mean?” It was almost like he was being strangled. Every second of interest in this man and his connection to his non-existent quirk tightened an invisible hand around his throat. He was supposed to be getting over these feelings.

“I don’t have a quirk.” He remedied.

The man smiled a sad sort of smile. One that held empathy, pity, and nostalgic remorse all in one. “No, you do not.”

He could no longer help his interest. Something drew him to the table, urged him to listen to this hallucination—this man. And Izuku was nothing if not slave to his urges.

“Then what does this have to do with my quirk? Are these hallucinations—are you—a side effect from some disease that comes with not having a quirk?”

“No such thing exists, young man. And I am no hallucination. I am the spirit of the one who came before you.”

“Like, an ancestor?”

The man chuckled, stared off into the night.

“Not quite.” He paused, and Izuku dared not to break the silence. They sat still as the dead lay, interrupted only by the sounds of rustling trees and the occasional nightingale. “I lost something precious before I could obtain it.” The man began. “My quirk. I lost it before it could be manifested. Similar to you, I experienced a brush with death in my youth, and the ability to see, speak to, and defend the dead was bestowed upon me.”

“Does that mean I did have a quirk?” The night lost its heat, all humidity was sucked from the air around him, replaced by the cold chill of a winter they’d only just left.

“Yes. And you lost it before it could manifest, leaving an empty hole that should’ve been filled by your quirk.”

“Other people lost their quirks too, during All for One’s time, so why didn’t they have this power too?”

“They’d already manifested theirs. Instead of creating an empty space, a piece of their soul was simply removed. Our souls are like small bags, pouches filled with our experiences, memories, emotions, and our quirks. When your quirk was removed, it had yet to be placed in the bag, so the bag remained untouched, and simply ended up unfilled. To complete your soul, this ability nestled within it. When someone loses a quirk that manifested previously, their pouch is cut as well, and it is then sewn back together smaller than before. Thus, no empty space is left.”

“But I’ve never been able to see ghosts before!”

“It requires an inciting event. After the ability settles into your soul, which may take months, you must suffer a second traumatic incident. One not related to a physical event. Instead, it must be an event of significant emotional turmoil, and only emotional turmoil. It may be reliving past events, or an entirely new event.”

Izuku thought back to the nights spent in front of his junior high.

“Why should I believe you? You’re just a hallucination.”

“I am the ghost of the Keeper from before you. I can prove it to you, if you’ll allow me.”

Izuku paused. He nodded. The man reached across the table and placed a hand to Izuku’s forehead. The ground fell away beneath him. He had the air sucked out of him, as if he were suddenly rocketing across the tracks of a roller coaster.

The feeling passed and he placed a hand to his head, which—

Was suddenly bare? He opened his eyes to stare at his hands, covered in wrinkles. He looked up, across the table, and screamed. His voice was deeper, coarse.

There lay his body, slumped halfway on the chair, halfway on the grassy floor. His eyes were wide, empty, and his mouth partially open.

“That—That’s—!”

“Do you believe me now?” Another voice emerged from the mouth he was using, one that echoed.

“You killed me! You—how—you killed me!!”

“I did not. Your soul was simply used to make my body real. You may return to your body whenever you wish. You only need desire it.”

Izuku closed his–or–the man’s eyes, and thought about returning to his body. After a few seconds of mentally chanting his desires, the roller coaster feeling returned. Once it dissipated, he opened his eyes to find himself staring at the grass, arm and neck hurting. He fully fell off the chair, rubbing his neck and hissing as he rolled his shoulder. He looked up to see the man’s corporeal form staring at him blankly.

“Okay, okay I believe you.” He breathed, grasping at his face, neck, hair, and chest. He was real. He was himself.

The man nodded. “Good. Then I’ll explain your responsibilities.”

“Responsibilities?” Was this some kind of job? He couldn’t be serious.

“Yes. We, as the mouths, hands, and feet of lost souls, must do our best to set them free.”

“Why?”

“Without them, our souls would’ve remained unfinished, and we would’ve died a tragically painful death. A slow, painful death. Therefore, to repay our debts, we fulfill the final wishes of trapped souls and assist them in moving on.”

“So we’re like, ghost whisperers?”

“It may be better described as mercenaries. In return for our work, they will supply us with more time to live.”

“Do you mean they make us immortal?”

“If that were the case, why would I be dead?”

Izuku clamped his jaw shut.

The man sighed, standing from his chair. He motioned for Izuku to get up as well.

“It will only buy you time. You will die soon if you do not fulfill the wishes of the souls that come your way. Unfortunately, allowing the afterlife into your soul also invites death. One way or another, once death consumes the rest of your original soul, you will die. You will lose your memories. You will lose your senses. You will lose your vitality.”

The man offered a hand to Izuku, still sitting on the ground. Izuku reached out for it, frowning as his hand passed right through it. The man chuckled. He stared off into the distance again, and this time, Izuku followed his gaze. There was a bird quietly staring in their direction. Unmoving, silent. Below it, Izuku could see a smaller bird laying in the grass, almost entirely obscured except for a wing and half its body.

“You will lose everything, including your soul.”

Chapter Text

Izuku left the man shortly after, and began his walk back to the apartment building. As he walked, He mulled over what the old man had told him. It left him with more questions than answers.

Did this mean he had some kind of terminal illness? He'd die if he didn't do the soul's bidding? So ghosts were real? But what did he mean he'd “lose everything?” Would he become like one of them?

He couldn't believe he had a quirk.

He stopped walking.

He'd had a quirk. Everything he'd gone through for being quirkless could've been avoided, if he just hadn't been so unfortunate. If he'd just had a bit more luck. He could've had everything he'd ever wanted and more.

“I could've been a hero.” He whispered, audible to none but himself, alone in the dead of night.

___________________________________

A fifteen minute walk took an hour, with Izuku pausing every few feet, fighting to find motivation to continue walking.

Even breathing took too much effort. Twisting his key in the lock was nearly impossible.

Still, he managed. He was greeted by the cat at the door, staring at it blankly as it mewed up at him, tail swishing back and forth.

What did it want from him?

“The spirits will tell you what they want. All you must do is listen.” Izuku could've sworn his soul left his body from fright, if he didn't know what that actually felt like.

Instead, he supposed the old man sitting at his table might’ve just about given him a heart attack.

The man chuckled. “This was my home before you, young man. Did you expect me to stay in that park all night long?”

Izuku shut the door behind him and rubbed the exhaustion from behind his eyes. Now that he understood what was going on and didn't have adrenaline pumping through his veins, he felt so very drained.

“How will they tell me? I can't communicate with a cat, even in death, can I?”

“Of course you can.”

Izuku paused, staring down at the cat picking its paws. “It can speak English?”

The old man snorted. “Obviously not.”

Izuku grabbed a mug from a cupboard above the stove and placed it on the counter a little too harshly. The cat's ears twitched and it hopped backwards, sauntering across the room to sit beside the old man's legs.

“Could you please stop speaking in riddles? Just say what you mean plainly.”

“You're the one asking foolish questions, young man. But I understand your frustration.” The man reached down to pick up the cat and placed it in his lap. “There are a few ways to learn a soul's motivations. Usually, human souls will simply tell you what they need, so long as they are able to speak. It would also serve you well to learn some sign.”

“And non-human ghosts?”

“That's quite a rude word. I wouldn't use it if I were you.”

“Ghost?”

“Some souls don't appreciate being called that. It is demeaning, especially in today's society with their interpretations of what ‘ghosts’ are.”

“Okay, sorry. Souls, then. I didn't realize it was rude.”

The man hummed, scratching the cat behind its ears. Izuku placed a kettle on the stove.

“It's quite alright. I don't mind like other souls do. Either way, non-human souls are a bit more tricky. First, you must establish a bond, which may take some time if you did not know them in life. It seems, however, like this cat may have known you before its death.”

“I fed the cats around there once or twice. Maybe it was one of them.”

“Perhaps. After earning the soul's trust, it will then allow you to access its memories. Similar to taking over a soul's body, you must will yourself to enter its mind. You will then be able to understand its emotions when observing its memories and discern what it wants from you.”

“So it's a guessing game?” The kettle whistled and Izuku took it off the stove, turning away from the man to finish preparing his tea.

“It’s much more exact than that. An animal’s emotions are its primary means of communication. You will understand very well what it wants from you.”

“How do I read its memories?”

“It’ll take you quite a while. Usually, Keepers begin with human souls, to build a tolerance to interacting with the dead. Dealing with non-human souls takes much more out of you than human souls do.”

“Why?” Izuku took his mug to the table, placing it on a leaf-shaped coaster.

“Remember how I mentioned you can use your soul to make a dead soul’s body solid again?”

“Sure.” Izuku blew on his tea.

“Well, it drains your life force as you do so.”

Izuku paused. “It what?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t count. I am not that cruel.” The man scratched the cat beneath the chin. It purred, laying down in his lap. “With human souls, you may be lucky enough that you don’t need to expend your own life force to help them move on. However, with animals, it is inevitable. It takes time getting used to. Usually, it's best to not concern yourself with animal souls until your body has built up a natural tolerance just to being around the dead. Once you help them move on, you’ll get your energy back along with some extra, but it takes a toll on the body until you recover it.”

“Then, can’t I go find a different human soul and wait to deal with the cat?”

The man frowned. “That is not how this works. You do not search for the souls, they will call for you. You’ll feel drawn to them, and will unconsciously move to find them. Just as you did for this cat. You will do things that you would not usually do.”

Izuku sipped his tea. He had used an awfully strange lie the night he’d found the cat. And he had been walking towards the barbeque place without thinking. Is that what the old man meant?

“Besides, once you have a soul attached to you, they ward off others. It’s a method they use, unconsciously, to ensure you focus on and take care of them. You can’t feel drawn towards other souls until the current one is gone.”

“Then should I wait to take care of the cat until I get used to being around it?”

“You’ll be dead by then.” The man said, nonchalantly. “It’d be best to get it over with and worry about the consequences later.” He picked the cat up, ignoring its indignant yowls, and placed it on the table in front of Izuku. It dipped its paw in the tea. “Go on, read its memories.”

Izuku stared. “How?”

“Simply will it.”

Really clear instructions there. Izuku sighed and closed his eyes, willing himself into the mind of the cat, willing himself to learn all about its life.

Something rough and wet swiped across his cheek and he reeled back, opening his eyes. The cat stared at him, tilting its head and thumping its tail against the table. The old man sighed.

“Well, that won’t do. You haven’t truly grown to care for it, have you?”

Izuku frowned. “I do, I feel sorry for it, and I want to help it.”

“Not enough to name it.” The man retorted. “She wants you to call for her.”

“How do you know?”

“Perk of being dead, we can communicate well with each other.”

“Then can’t you figure out what she wants?”

“No, it’s against the rules.”

“What rules?” Izuku pulled at his hair, exasperated.

“The rules.”

He groaned, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. A name, hm? “Finny.”

Warm, bright, in. Finny out, cold, dark. Want warm. Finny hungry. Want warm. Cats mean. Finny small. Finny scared. Finny lonely.

Bell sound. Finny warm. Big man come out. Big man mad. Mad at Finny? Finny scared. Big man loud. Finny hurt. Boots bad. Boot hurt Finny. Big man hurt Finny. Finny scared. Finny mad. Mad at Big man.

Big lights. Loud, big cat. Big cat hits Finny. Finny hurt. Finny very hurt. Big man bares teeth. Big man like cats. Big man mean. Finny angry. Very angry. Angry. Angry. Angry. Finny want hurt Big man. Finny want Big man Small man. Big man small. Finny big. Make Big man hurt.

Finny angry.

The world spun back into focus as Izuku was revisited by an even worse rollercoaster-like feeling than with the old man. The floor came up way too close to his face before he threw his hands out in front of him, falling painfully onto his palms and feeling a sharp pain run up through his wrists. Something was dripping from his nose, and while he couldn’t see what it was in the dark, he had the feeling it was blood.

Izuku inhaled sharply, choking on his own spit and falling into an awful coughing fit that ended with an iron taste in his mouth and a stream of what felt like tears falling from his eyes.

A haze fell over his vision, blurring his sight like staring at heat waves rising from the ground, and his hands almost took on a paw-like appearance before clearing up again.

“Oh dear. That was even worse than I thought it would be. And she showed you only the end.”

It was hard to understand words. He could hear them, but it was almost like they were being spoken in a language he didn’t understand.

An anger was festering deep in his stomach, bubbling up into his chest and tightening the muscles in his face. It was a dark, twisted anger that did not belong to him, that he knew. It was a juvenile anger. One built off of despair, loneliness, and longing.

It was Finny’s anger.

“She–” Izuku coughed, gagging, arms trembling as acidic bile mixed with the iron taste in his mouth. “I–” His vision swam, and he pushed himself to the side just as his body gave out, barely avoiding falling into the puddle of blood and stomach acid.

“Rest, young man. We can discuss this once you’ve recovered.”

He could feel his heart pounding against his chest, hard enough that it hurt. The liquid from his eyes fell quicker. Something dripped down his earlobes. His head thrummed, and his lungs strained for air.

He had the awful, sinking feeling that if he fell asleep at that moment, he wouldn’t be fortunate enough to wake back up.

And it really did scare him—not waking up. It really did.

Chapter Text

“So, have you discovered our guest’s motivations yet?” Izuku groaned, raised his head, and peeled open his eyes, vision swimming. Slowly, the old man’s corporeal form came into focus along with the cat, sitting on his chest.

He let his head fall back to the ground with a thump, fighting the urge to vomit.

“You’ve survived thus far, don’t die now.” If the man’s form was solid, Izuku would not have hesitated hurling whatever he’d eaten last right onto his shoes.

“Revenge.” Was the one word that instinctively came to mind. His head was beginning to clear up, and his thoughts were coming quicker. He opened his eyes again, glad the lights were still off and the curtains closed.

The old man had taken a seat on the floor next to him. He hummed, tapping his chin. “What an unfortunate task to begin with. Vengeful souls are quite a challenge to a human’s moral compass.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, revenge is one of a few categories of wishes soul’s usually have. Obviously, these are simply broad categories, and they may overlap, but simplifying them makes it easier to determine their general motives. Especially non-human souls, which tend to be simpler. Remorseful souls typically wish for some type of comfort. It can range from just wanting a living person to listen to their story to finding the source of their guilt and issuing an apology on their behalf. These souls are usually human, and they are the most complex you will encounter. They are typically souls who died in late adulthood, some in middle adulthood.

Sorrowful souls either wish for comfort or are missing a part of their body. They will normally request to be reunited with their families or for you to find their bodies. These souls can be of all ages, but most common are teenagers and young adults. It is also common for non-human souls to fall under this category. They are also almost always victims of violent crimes when human, and lost animals when non-human. Angry souls wish for closure or an apology from those they feel wronged them. These are usually children and teenagers, since their motives are normally more juvenile. They are again almost always victims of violent crime, most commonly abuse.”

“And vengeful souls?”

“Vengeful souls are part of the final category, and the most violent. These souls are usually criminals and non-human souls that died a particularly difficult death. Their wishes usually fall under violent requests and normally end with the death of their killer. These souls are always victims of murder in some fashion and are typically teens and young adults along with criminals of all ages and non-human souls. That cat falls under this umbrella. Most vengeful souls also have certain requests for the way their killer is to die. Could you tell if this cat had any specific requests?”

Izuku sat up, ignoring the cat as it jumped off his chest and hissed, tail whipping through the air with irritation. He was certain it would claw him if it could. “Hold on a second, are you telling me I’m going to have to kill people?” He couldn’t possibly go down that path. Even if he could no longer become a hero, and had given up hope, he still held onto his values. He still had a strong sense of justice.

The old man sighed. “This is the hard part of beginning with a vengeful soul at Ms. Finny’s level.” He glanced at the wall, considering. “You shouldn’t have to kill her murderer yourself, at any rate. I assume as long as she witnesses the death, she’ll be content. But only you know what she’s requested. Some souls wish to end their killer’s life themselves, which would cause you to get involved, if just to give them their bodies back, but non-human souls don’t normally wish for that.”

“Still! You can’t expect me to cause someone’s death, no matter how it’s done!” Izuku climbed to his feet, gripping the table behind him to steady himself as dark spots dotted his vision. His legs buckled and he just barely managed to remain standing. He couldn’t even imagine causing someone harm. What would his mother think? What would All Might—

God, would that make him the same as—

No, no he couldn’t possibly. Everyone deserved to live. He’d get this man in prison, one way or another, and that was it. He would not cause anyone to die, especially not for the wishes of something already long dead.

He didn’t want to be a villain. He didn’t want to cause harm. He didn’t want to bring pain.

“If you don’t,” the man stood up, “you’ll die. And soon, too. You must have been even more unhealthy than I thought. That soul too far too much out of you even for a new Keeper. Are you willing to die, in order to remain true to your morals?” Izuku breathed deeply, furrowing his brows as his lungs felt smaller and smaller.

His legs finally gave out and his arm was unable to support him any longer. Painfully, he fell to his knees and collapsed onto his side. He groaned, grasping at his face. He must’ve hit his face or clenched his jaw in his sleep. Everything hurt so, so much.

“I–” Izuku paused to breathe. No. He wanted to say. There had to be another way.

I won’t kill. I won’t become something vile.

“Oh dear. Death may come for you sooner than I expected.”

A ringing started in his ears, and if he were even a little further gone, he might’ve been unfortunate enough not to recognize it as his ringtone.

He managed to half-drag himself over to the kitchen, and reached for his phone on the counter, arm flailing and knocking off the kettle in the process, spilling now cold water onto the floor. He managed to grab his phone and answer the call, breathing heavily as his throat continued to constrict.

“Your death will appear natural, you know?” The old man mused, standing above him. “Allergic reaction, stroke, heart attack—”

“Midoriya? Is that you? Hey, man, where are you? Your shift started thirty minutes ago. We’re kinda short-handed right now.” Even with a barely working brain, Izuku remembered his second shift was supposed to be two days after his first. Two. Days. He’d spent two days asleep, comatose, after seeing that cat’s memories. He really was dying, wasn’t he?

“—Sepsis, overdose, brain aneurysm, dehydration, starvation, the list goes on and on.” Izuku tore at his throat, desperately trying to choke out a response.

“Hey, are you there? What’s wrong?” The old man’s voice nearly drowned out Natsuo’s.

“It’s a way to protect the secrets of souls.” Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

“Midoriya?” How could that spirit’s voice be so damn loud?

“I do wonder which they will find in you.” He really didn’t want to die. Really, really didn’t want to.

How was it fair? He finally found a will to live, finally found the motivation to move on, and now he was destined to die?

“I’m—I—dyi——ng.”

“Hey, what? What are you talking about? Midoriya? Midoriya! Where are you?! What’s going on?! Hold on, let me—”

The pressure in his head finally exploded, and Izuku snapped into unconsciousness once again, only able to hope in his final moments that Natsuo would be able to get him help.

At least the bakery should have my address.

________________________________________________________________

Izuku opened his eyes to a hospital room and found immediate comfort in the beeping machines at his side, signifying that he was still alive.

Just as he was about to exhale a sigh of relief, a soft meow interrupted the rhythmic machines.

Every muscle in his body froze, and a new feeling of tightness began in his chest. His breathing pace increased, his palms began to sweat, and his lips trembled. The machine next to him beeped louder, quicker, angrier.

He did not move his eyes from the ceiling.

A soft purr settled beneath the machine as it increased in intensity, and Izuku’s body went from stiff to shaking like that of a man near hypothermia. His jaw clenched, and his stomach churned as the nausea rose to the surface once more.

He did not move his eyes from the ceiling.

Nurses streamed into the room, checking his machines, putting a mask on his face, and trying to get his attention. A doctor followed, shouting orders to the nurses that his ears did not understand.

He did not move his eyes from the ceiling.

The cat’s spectral face popped into his field of vision, covering the bright hospital ceiling and darkening it with its opaque form.

With the physical confirmation that the cat was still there, Izuku’s gasps turned into sobs. They racked his body, tearing his vocal cords to shreds as he screamed for mercy, begged for his life back, and shouted for his freedom. The chains that these ghosts had placed upon him settled heavy in his heart as the reality finally sunk in.

His eyes began to feel heavy, and he felt himself drifting back into unconsciousness.

The moment he’d awoken, the moment he realized he was still alive, he’d realized he’d already accepted his new reality deep down. He’d unconsciously broken his moral code in favor of living, even just for a short while longer.

Unable to refuse it any longer, Izuku allowed himself to fade once more with one final statement. The words were no more than whispers, inaudible above the screaming machines and raucous doctor, and yet they held the resolve of a soldier heading towards certain doom.

“I’ll do it.”

I’ll do it.

____________________________________________________________________________

“How do I go about this?” Izuku stared down at his cup of coffee, which must’ve gone cold hours ago. He’d been discharged from the hospital a week after he was brought in, and had been told by Pro-Hero Uravity and Natusuo to take another week off of work before talking with them again to determine if he was ready to go back.

The old man sitting across from him scratched his bald head. “Well, the connection you have with the cat will lead you to him. Luckily, the objects of a soul’s wishes are tied to them quite closely. It makes our job much easier.”

“My job.”

The old man smiled. “Yes, your job.”

His eyes felt heavy. They hadn’t stopped feeling heavy, actually. Not since that first time he’d woken up in the hospital.

He stared at his apartment. It’d grown quite dirty, after nine days. There was a film of dust laying over everything. Counters, stove, chairs, floor, table. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, either. Nor had he taken a bath or done his laundry. He hadn’t the energy for it, unfortunately.

He’d grown accustomed to the dreary atmosphere.

Izuku’s eyes drifted to the cat sitting at the cracked door, staring expectantly. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled, exhaustion finally taking over just as the roller coaster feeling tore through him.

Upon opening his eyes again, the world appeared desaturated, and much larger than before. He allowed his consciousness to settle into a corner of Finny’s mind as she scampered out of his apartment. His job was to give her a solid form and wait until she found the man who murdered her. He’d observe him for a few days and find a villain to deal the final blow.

From what Izuku understood, the cat’s desires were for him to be run over in the same fashion that she was. At least all she wanted was to observe it. The unfortunate part of that, however, was that he’d have to be there too. She couldn’t go anywhere without him. She had to either remain at his side or in his apartment.

The world flew by as Finny bolted across busy sidewalks, single-mindedly heading towards wherever she sensed this man was.

It was around two in the afternoon, so Izuku expected to find him working somewhere. Discovering his place of work was a good place to start.

The cat finally came to a stop in front of an old bar, and Izuku urged her to get to a window. She did so without fuss, perching herself on a windowsill and peering into the bar.

He supposed it shouldn’t come as a surprise that a man like him would be drinking at two in the afternoon on a Tuesday.

Izuku spotted him relatively quickly. He was seated at a table with three other men, laughing heartily and drinking from a glass. He kept an eye on him for the next three hours until he finally stumbled out of the bar and followed him at a distance as he headed towards the barbeque.

Finny became more and more enraged as they approached the barbeque, so Izuku had to keep her emotions repressed in order to keep going. Luckily, the man turned into a run-down apartment building before they reached the barbeque restaurant.

With the help of Finny’s feline nose, they managed to track down which apartment was his, and once again observed him from the window. He spent the rest of the evening drinking and watching sports. At around eleven at night, he ordered takeout from a burger place down the road, and at two in the morning he finally fell asleep.

Izuku spent the night curled up as a cat on the window, waiting for the man to wake up. He finally did at around ten forty in the morning, and this time, got ready for work. He seemed to be in a foul mood as he headed towards a warehouse that dealt with food products. They packaged and shipped canned goods there, if Izuku remembered correctly.

He worked from three in the afternoon to eleven at night, returned home after eating out at twelve twenty, had a few drinks, and fell asleep by two again.

Operating under the assumption that he’d wake up around the same time as before, if a little earlier, Izuku urged the cat to head back home. As they headed back, Izuku had the cat pay attention to street signs. He committed the route to memory, repeating it to himself within the cat’s mind as they sped home.

When they arrived, the apartment was empty. Except for his body, luckily. With some difficulty, Izuku managed to expel his soul from the cat’s and landed in his own body. He opened his eyes more drained than before. Though, he supposed he hadn’t eaten for more than a day at that point.

He grabbed a nearly spoiled apple from the kitchen, a glass of water, a notebook, and a pen before sitting down at the table.

The cat jumped up to sit beside his cup, swiping at it with her paw, mewing with disappointment as her paw phased through it.

“Get some rest.” His voice was hoarse. He opened the notebook and titled the page ‘Finny.’

“We’ll head back out once I record what we’ve observed so far.” Izuku could feel her irritation. He sighed, pinched his nose, and brushed the hair from his eyes. “You’ll have your revenge in four days, Finny. It won’t be long now, so have patience.”