Chapter Text
Wind roared in Izuku Midoriya’s ears as he fell.
The city blurred beneath him in streaks of gray and gold, distant car horns swallowed by the rush of air tearing past his body.
His stomach twisted violently.
He couldn’t breathe.
If you really want to be a hero that badly…
Katsuki’s voice echoed over and over inside his skull, sharp enough to cut him open from the inside.
There actually might be another way.
Izuku squeezed his eyes shut.
His school uniform snapped wildly in the wind. Tears ripped from the corners of his eyes and disappeared into the air before they could even fall properly.
Just pray that you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life…
Maybe he should’ve left a longer note for his mom.
The thought hit suddenly and painfully.
He’d tried to write one.
He really had.
But every version sounded wrong.
I’m sorry.
Thank you.
I tried.
None of it felt big enough.
The ground was getting closer.
Too fast.
Panic surged through him at last, violent and instinctive.
His body jerked uselessly, hands grabbing at empty air as survival instinct finally kicked in far too late.
…and take a swan dive off the roof of the building.
He didn’t want to die.
The realization crashed into him so hard it hurt.
He didn’t—
he didn’t—
he didn’t—
A scream tore itself from his throat—
—and then something exploded across his side.
Pain.
Blinding, unbearable pain.
Instead of concrete, his body slammed through metal scaffolding jutting from the side of the building below. Rusted bars snapped beneath his weight, slowing the fall just enough before he crashed hard into a pile of debris in the alley underneath.
The world went white.
Izuku gasped weakly, choking on blood and dust.
Everything hurt.
He couldn’t feel his left arm properly.
Warm liquid pooled beneath him.
Above, the evening sky spun slowly out of focus.
Footsteps echoed somewhere nearby.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Izuku forced one eye open.
A boy stood at the mouth of the alley.
Around his age, maybe older.
Dark hood.
Dark eyes.
Hands tucked into his pockets.
He looked at Izuku’s broken body without shock.
Without pity, just quiet curiosity.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Not that Izuku could even manage it; pain locked his throat shut, his lungs refusing to cooperate. He just stared, desperate and fading, wondering why the stranger wasn’t helping.
Then the stranger crouched beside him.
“Hm,” he murmured softly. “You survived.”
Izuku’s vision blurred harder.
The boy tilted his head slightly, studying him like something strange washed up on shore.
“What’s your name?”
Izuku’s lips trembled.
“…zu,” he tried.
The boy glanced at the blood spreading across the concrete.
Then back at him.
“Well, Zu,” he said calmly, “you’re either very unlucky…”
A faint smile pulled at his mouth.
“…or very hard to kill.”
The world tilted.
Sound came in pieces now—distant, broken, like it didn’t belong to him anymore.
Izuku tried to inhale.
Nothing happened.
His body felt too heavy to exist in. Too far away to control. The alley, the sky, the stranger’s face, it all blurred at the edges like wet ink bleeding through paper.
Katsuki…
The name didn’t feel like a voice anymore.
Just a weight.
Just pain.
His vision flickered.
The boy in the hood was still there, still crouched, still watching him like he was something worth studying instead of throwing away.
Somewhere near him, something hit the ground softly.
Drip..
Izuku’s fingers twitched once against the concrete.
Drip.. drip..
Then stopped.
The sound of footsteps faded.
The alley narrowed.
The sky folded in on itself, slow and quiet.
And for the first time since he fell, there was no more falling.
Just darkness.