Chapter Text
Midoriya Izuku was drowning.
The pain, previously excruciating, had faded into nothing; shock and desperate disbelief taking over. Wind whipped through his blood-soaked curls and the arm not devastated by injuries reached up towards the ledge of the skyscraper he’d been blown off of, the whirring of the bionics Hatsume had fashioned onto his shoulder sparking and twitching as he forced the prosthetic to move. His vision was beginning to black around the edges and while the gaping wound in his abdomen had missed any of his more vital organs, the blood loss was still sure to kill him before he reached the ground. All he could see was Shigaraki’s wide-wide crooked grin and dust-tipped fingers, reaching and reaching…
“Good-bye, brother,” he watched Shigaraki mouth down to him, “it’s for the best.”
*
Aizawa Shouta was a practical man, even at the tender age of fifteen. And whatever he had been dragged into now was not practical and was, in fact, seeming to be pure nonsense. But with the idiots that had decided to adopt him after his first semester at UA orchestrating said nonsense, it was no wonder.
He appreciated this odd circle of friends; Iida, Kayama, Yamada, and Shirakumo (the only one not present as he had been given detention for entering class late and through the window- again). They had all just- picked him up one day, like a stray cat they’d all found on the side of the street. Yamada said that both he and Shirakumo had been floored by his performance at the sports festival and had determined that they would befriend him no matter what. Their incessant pestering had really only made Shouta flustered at first- he’d never had people be nice to him or want to be his friend of all things. It had been confusing enough when he was just separated in Gen-Ed and the rambunctious Hero Course students couldn’t bother him except at lunch, but then they’d somehow gotten his phone number and started pestering him after school. Kayama and Iida had followed when Yamada- ever the obnoxious extrovert- decided to expand their trio with the upperclassmen he’d interned with.
“So,” he called out to his personal circus of dumbasses, “instead of studying, because we have finals, we’re going to goof off and go to the beach?”
“No!” Yamada protested, overstuffed beach bag swinging into his side as he whipped around to face Shouta, “We’re going to study! Just. Also at the beach.”
“I see,” he said. He did not see.
“Aizawa-kouhai!” Kayama – lead tyrant- called out over her shoulder at him, “Lighten up! We’re going to the beach, not a funeral.”
“When I die of heatstroke in the sand it will be,” he shot back. Particularly grumpy in the sunlight and the burning heat of July. Also, he knew for a fact that the beach they had decided on was halfway to being a glorified garbage dump and the day was going to end quick and disappointing for his more excitable classmates. Was he going to warn them though? No. Where was the fun in that?
“Aizawa-kun!” Yamada screamed as he shook Shouta’s shoulders. This was already so much of a mistake. “We wouldn’t let you die in the sand!”
“Speak for yourself,” Iida said with a grin, stance casual and light as he walked ahead of them. Iida would be fine skipping a day of studying for finals because he was near the top of his class and the teachers all though him a paragon of goodness. Which was bullshit, but it worked in Iida’s favor.
“Iida is officially my only friend,” Shouta said, deadpan, shrugging off Yamada’s hold on his shoulders.
“Aizawa!” Yamada wailed.
Kayama cackled ahead of them, “Someone’s got their priorities straight.”
“Nothing about me is straight,” he yelled back.
He watched Yamada faceplant into the sidewalk after tripping over his own gangly limbs and that, at least, was satisfying.
*
This was not how he expected to die.
He could feel the wind against his back and the terror of knowing that his death would be yet another blow against the few surviving heroes and the original class 1-A; all the last defense Japan, and the world, had at the mercy of the League of Villains, Shigaraki, and the sheer chaos that the world ruled by evil had become.
His death had felt inevitable, but not like this. Not now.
Some naive part of him had always thought he’d die in one spectacular last showdown. That he and Shigaraki would face off and kill each other in the end. He’d already tried, so many times, so desperately, to save Shigaraki from himself, from All for One, from the shadows that had so tightly wound around his soul. And each time he left the fight worse for wear and with Shigaraki- eclipsed by the weight of All for One’s ghost- grinning and grinning.
The only solution he’d come to, something he’d kept in the back of his mind, was that they’d both have to die. Shigaraki resisted being saved at ever turn and Izuku knew that there was no way he’d come out of their final fight alive. It was just how the narrative was supposed to go. Their final chapter, as the ghosts of the brothers that dwelled within their chests had demanded, would be each other’s end.
But now, with all of his quirks failing him, Izuku now saw that he, as Kacchan had already called him, was just another extra. He was no longer the main character of this story, this was not the story of how he became the number one hero and it hadn’t been in a very long time. He was Shigaraki’s, All for One’s, stepping stone.
Just another worthless casualty.
*
“Hey guys?” Yamada called, nervous, as he balanced on yet another precarious pile of trash, “What’s that in the water?”
“I swear to the gods if you’ve seen another ‘shark’, I’m going to feed you to it.” Kayama grumbled, trying to clear away the last of the broken microwave that had tumbled into her spot from Yamada’s pile-hopping.
“No! It’s not a shark!” He yelled, defensive, “This time.” He shook himself and waved his arms frantically in the air towards the polluted sea, “Just look!”
“I dunno, man,” Iida said from where he was lounging on his beach towel, carefully laid over the mostly cleared patch of sand. “Looks like another lump of trash to me.”
“No,” Shouta said, squinting at the dark waters and the supposed shark-not-shark Yamada had seen. He couldn’t make it out clearly, but it definitely didn’t look like trash. “I don’t think that’s it…”
Slowly, they all watched it creep closer and closer to shore, rocked by the waves like a cradle until it stuck gently to the sands of the beach nearly a half a mile from where they all stood. Waiting. Then, so slowly, the sand around the lump started turning red.
“What the fuck,” Iida said softly; the first to speak.
“Is it actually a shark?!”
“No, dumbass,” Kayama said, rounding on Yamada, “That’s a body. Call 119!”
“Kayama,” Shouta barked, already preparing for the worst, “You’ve already taken emergency first aid, yes? Let’s go see what’s going on.”
*
Izuku closed his eyes and strained for something, anything, that would allow for the impossible to happen. He thought about those he hadn’t been able to save before and those that he wouldn’t be able to save after. There had to be something. The quirk that had been given to him, passed down to him like a sacred legacy, had depths and secrets not even the original wielder had known. The ghosts that haunted this quirk had given him strength and support and power beyond anyone’s imagining. And there was nothing any of them could do now to help.
Float could only do so much when he had no surface to hover over. It was powerful with the boost that One for All had given it, but every quirk had its limitations. This was something Izuku knew very well. The most he could do was push off of the building he was falling beside, and what good would that do? Change the trajectory of his death? He’d still bleed out before hitting the ground. The most he might manage would be softening his fall.
Black Whip was also at it’s limit. Controlled by emotions as it was, Izuku couldn’t grasp the quirk at all. He needed anger and rage and all he could summon through the shock was desperate grief. He knew, as well, that even if he caught himself with the tendrils that the jerking force of the stop would only exacerbate his wounds and likely kill him faster. There was no gentle stop here. There was only the cold concrete of the city below.
And what could Smokescreen or Danger Sense do? Or Mild Regeneration and Energy Blast? Mild Regeneration was just that, mild. It kept him from dying immediately when Shigaraki plunged all five fingers into his abdomen, but it could only do so much. He would still bleed out before the quirk could even try to heal him, even boosted from One for All as it was. He’d still hit the ground. And there would still be no help for him from others when he did. There were no hospitals to recover in now. Not if they wanted their civilian patients to avoid villain attacks. Energy blast might have been able to do something, but it needed to draw energy from the user and it needed equipment to direct the flow of the blast. Neither of which Izuku had. Not while he was dying. And there was no Kacchan to borrow a gauntlet from this time.
“I’m sorry, Izuku,” he could hear First whisper within his mind, “this is the end, I think.”
He could not die like this. Not now. He could not leave the others to fend for themselves. He could not die without saving everyone. Everyone.
There had to be something. A miracle. Anything.
*
It was a body. A person. A very, very heavily injured person. Who looked to be wearing the tattered remains of a costume. Red was slowly dying the green of whatever uniform they were wearing into a dark, dark maroon. Were they a villain? A vigilante? A hero? There was no way to tell. They weren’t someone any of them could identify on the spot. But was that because they weren’t well known or because of all the blood? They weren’t likely to be too dangerous at least, if they didn’t have any identifiers. Low ranking. Hopefully.
“What first?” Shouta asked, kneeling beside Kayama as her hands hovered over the body, panic lacing her every move. First aid classes and a moderate amount of patrol during internships could only prepare a person so much. Shouta knew that very well. If his life hadn’t already been fucked up before this… He’d be a panicked mess too. But Kayama was the one with greater knowledge of what to do here, so he needed her calm and thinking clearly. Iida came to kneel beside them too.
“There’s no obvious wound on their back and while their arm over there is royally messed up it’s not actively bleeding, we need to see where the blood is coming from and make sure their airways aren’t obstructed,” Iida said, calmly reaching out to help flip the person as Kayama’s hands finally made contact with the body.
“Pulse?” Shouta asked, knowing it was important but not knowing where to find it or when it was appropriate to search for it.
Iida inhaled sharply as he lifted the person’s shoulders and started flipping them to their side.
“Recovery position,” Kayama murmured. Likely trying to remember her training.
Iida was pale. “I’m not sure he’s gonna have one,” he said. “It looks like someone just, burned away part of his abdomen.”
“What?” Kayama hissed.
“YAMADA!” Iida shouted back at their other friend, who was still frantically trying to explain the situation to emergency services. “BRING ME YOUR BAG!”
“We’re going to have to pack the wound,” Kayama whispered, her hands shaking as she lifted them away. They were covered in blood.
“Pulse first,” Iida snapped, still holding up the person’s shoulders, “Aizawa come help me support his head to make sure his airways stay open. Hopefully he hasn’t swallowed any seawater.”
Aizawa rounded to the side Iida was kneeling by and no amount of previous trauma could prepare him for the viscera he witnessed now. There was so much blood, gushing out of the wound and the man’s intestines looked to be- disintegrated somehow. Like they’d just turned to dust in one specific area.
Gods, why did it look like All Might himself had smashed a hole through their stomach? And was whoever had done that still around?
“Faint,” Kayama said after a minute, hands now firm as her fingers found a pulse in the man’s neck “but it’s there. Forty-eight. Not bad… considering…”
Iida whistled, calm but grim, he’d had the most experience out of all of them when it came to situations like this. Hailing from a hero family meant he knew about the more grisly side of rescue at a younger age. “He really wants to hold on, huh?”
He looked to Shouta where he’d carefully started cradling the man’s neck. “Keep his neck back like that so he doesn’t choke on his own tongue. And since he’s on his side he hopefully wont choke on any water or blood if he starts coughing it up.”
“Breathing’s shallow,” Kayama responded, “But it doesn’t seem constricted or anything. There’s nothing audible without a stethoscope, at least.”
“BAG!” Yamada shouted as he thrust it towards Kayama, the only one with free hands. “Ambulance is on the way,” he said, tears running down his face as he held up his phone. “I’m still on the line.”
“Tell them we’ve got a massive abdominal wound, likely the work of a quirk, but his pulse is still pretty strong, all things considered. He’s unconscious though, so there’s no telling what else could be wrong.”
“What now?” Shouta said, trying to make sure they moved this along as quickly as possible.
“We pack the wound and apply pressure,” Iida said, pulling out water bottles and clean beach towels. Promptly pouring the water over and around the wound and shoving the towels around it. “Keep his back steady so I can press, Kaya-chan.”
“Yeah,” she replied, shakily.
*
He felt the sparks of green lightning, the buzz of frantic energy zap and tug at his limbs. He could feel it fill him up and sizzle with nowhere to go.
He reached deeper and deeper and more desperately than he ever had before, trying to pull as much energy together as he possibly could. He couldn’t think past this moment. He needed to do something. Anything.
He felt frustrated tears leak from his eyes as he let a momentary terror take over. There would be no last ditch effort. No saving grace. There would be no salvation for him. Even with all the great power of One for All blazing in his bones, the power would die with him. It’s purpose unfulfilled.
He gazed up at the edge of the skyscraper knowing that Shigaraki was still gleefully watching his death come closer and closer. Rage filled him. Maybe he could activate Black Whip with this, and boost it with all of One for All that he could. One shot. With as much power as he could muster. One shot and then maybe his death would mean something. He’d always had a martyr streak.
If he couldn’t save Shigaraki then no one else could. And if the man couldn’t be saved then he deserved to be taken out before he could do more damage.
The energy of One for All buzzed around him with a greater ferocity than ever, roaring with the might of contained power, and he reached even deeper. It was a crescendo of thunder around him and all he could see was green, green, green… And he reached even deeper.
He felt raw and hollow like he was scraping at the very edges of his soul, pouring his entire being into this one last hit. All he could do was coalesce his energy, his very essence, into this one last shot and aim straight for the ledge he knew Shigaraki was still grinning from. If he could not save himself then he would do everything within his power to save those he would leave behind. Eight pairs of hands were surrounding him and the green turned to a rainbow streak of light as all the past users poured their own power into the roiling energy forming around him.
He reached even deeper.
*
“One… shot…”
“What the fuck!” Kayama screeched, shaky hands ripping away from the man she’d been holding steady.
“Did the almost corpse just speak?” Iida asked lowly, like he was asking himself more than anyone else.
Yamada was still crying and trying to speak to the emergency services operator, which left Shouta to be the responsible one. Great.
“Hello?” He asked the man, getting close to his ear, “Sir? Are you conscious? Can you tell me your name?”
“Can’t let him…” came the raspy reply. The man didn’t seem to be responding to anything actually happening around him. He didn’t flinch when Iida pressed more firmly on his wound, nor did he seem cognizant of the questions Shouta was asking him. “Can’t let him kill…”
And if that didn’t send a spike of pure fear down Shouta’s spine, nothing else would. Kill? Kill? This was not something any of them were prepared for. He hoped that ambulance arrived soon and the situation out of their hands. He was not going to wait around and find out who this guy was trying to stop from killing others.
The head cradled in Shouta’s hands twitched and lifted even as his eyes stayed firmly closed. His legs soon followed and it almost seemed like the man was trying to jerk up into a sitting position. The arm that wasn’t mangled, pressed into the sand as it was, started sparking. Shouta’s eyes widened as he realized it was a prosthetic.
“Shit,” Iida hissed as he tried to keep the man still. “Come help me hold him!”
Kayama hesitantly moved back and Yamada inched closer. Shouta let the man’s head drop down to rest on his thighs and helped Iida press down on the man’s shoulders.
“Legs, Kayama,” Shouta ordered, “Yamada keep his back still.”
Finally, finally, they could hear the sirens of an approaching ambulance and police.
Finally they could hand off this trauma to the professionals.
*
Suddenly, everything was an ocean around him.
He felt frozen and suspended and could smell nothing but the salty sting of the sea. Like he was being cradled between the waves of the ocean, he swayed and he buoyed. Floating on ice cold water like he’d been caught between Ochako’s and Shouto’s quirks.
But Ochako was gone and Shouto would be too if he didn’t act fast.
He needed to take out Shigaraki, but…
Something was different. He kept tugging anyway. Pulling at the saltwater around him and gathering it close until he felt he could tug no longer. He pulled once more and knew that time was running out. He breathed in one last time and held it. This was his last Hail Mary. There was nothing left after this.
With a rush of air, he let go.
His vision was nothing but a kaleidoscope of color, then green, then blue, then black.
Then things were like a dream. Hazy and vague and all he could feel was the sensation like he was floating. Being rocked by the waves of an ocean made of cool breezes and daydreams. Maybe it was the blood loss finally getting to him. Maybe this was just what death felt like.
Voices and the soft colors of blurred images floated around him in the waves, like buoys in the distance, bobbing in and out of awareness. Memories? Dreams? Both?
“I cannot simply say, ‘you can become a hero even without power.’”
And he drifted.
“You’re too scary, Midoriya. I really don’t know how you’ll ever be a hero like that. The air around you itself is too cold to be a comfort.”
And drifted.
“You shine like the sun, but you’re gonna supernova one day. You’re gonna take yourself out, along with all the other people that care about you. Is that what you want, Izuku? To destroy yourself? And… And me?”
And drifted.
“You’re the only one that can save us. I know you don’t understand and you’ll hate me for this later. But it can’t be me. It- It can’t. It has to be you. I’m doing this for the best.”
And drifted…
“It’s not the quirk but what you do with it. It’s not anyone else’s power but yours. The world is dark and cruel but it’s your job, our job, to change it for the better.”
And then Midoriya Izuku was back to drowning once more.