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Izuku drifts across memories, a lonely star floating across the universe. This is what this is: a kaleidoscope of fleeting images and voices that surge onwards as he's propelled forward.
It is as violent as it is agonizing.
There’s the man that he recognizes as Shimura Kotaro and the voice of the seventh cries out in his ear. Nana sees him too. It feels like hours, days, weeks, years—but it blinks right into the birth of Kotaro’s second child. His only son.
This, this is Shimura Tenko.
Izuku clashed right into Shigaraki Tomura a little over two years ago. The red deep of his gaze collided with green and from that moment on, from that fiasco that was USJ, Izuku knew with a wary certainty that somehow, in someway, they were now tied irreversibly to one another. A fastened knot threaded by Fate itself.
They met each other again.
The mall incident.
And again.
Kamino Ward.
And again.
The Jaku City disaster.
In glimpses, in blows, they always ended up trying to consume one other. A constant, relentless storm that would only succeed in collapsing within itself.
Things escalated. The war had sprung up and presented itself as a monster to them both, a monster that All For One had intended to use to bring society down to its knees as he inhabited the very crevices of Shigaraki’s own mind. He commanded his limbs, puppeteered his every movement; from a swing of a fist to the twitch of his fingers.
The fist Izuku drove right into Shigaraki pierced through a veil and he had fallen right through inky darkness.
Then everything exploded in color. It was as if seeing time and space raveling together to stitch up what could only be the universe except it wasn’t.
It wasn’t because Izuku saw a little girl with pigtails and a grin as bright as sunlight turn back over her shoulder and shout, “Come on, Tenko!” The air of summer brushed over his skin as a little boy with dark hair and red eyes stepped forward and took the girl’s hand in his.
That— Izuku knew in an instant that this was Shigaraki. Tenko. It was the only thought he had before the sky eroded over and he was someplace new.
Izuku learned names. Hana. Nao. Kotaro. He knew their faces. The grandparents though, didn’t have names. And it makes sense, deep within the trenches of Tenko’s memories, this is what he remembers.
This is what he’s just now coming to remember.
It is as violent as it is agonizing.
There’s the make-believe games of playing heroes.
There’s Kotaro dragging Tenko outside while the others ate dinner inside.
There’s Tenko crying.
There’s his grandparents trying to make him feel better, but they don't step in when it’s needed the most.
There’s Nao hugging Tenko tightly, tugging his hands away from his face when he scratches too hard.
Tenko, do you still want to be a hero?
There’s Hana showing Tenko a photograph of Nana holding a little Kotaro in front of a park.
Let’s be a brother and sister hero team!
There were stars in Tenko’s eyes.
They shattered as Kotaro slapped him across the face.
Izuku dashed out of his state of forced paralysis. He put himself in front of Tenko while Nana tried to catch Kotaro by his wrist. Their hands went right through them as if they were nothing more than ghosts.
Nana vanished from sight, but Izuku felt her grief from the very depths of his soul.
This is where he’s at now:
Drifting across memories, across Tenko’s memories while some of All For One’s tear their way through.
How else would he have seen Kotaro right before Tenko was born?
“Are you getting it now, hero?”
Izuku doesn’t answer but All For One doesn’t seem to mind. He just laughs, it’s an awful sound, as soft as it is mocking.
“I guess you could say…I was a family friend of theirs.” Right across the table, Kotaro is complaining about Tenko’s love of heroes. In reply, All For One suggests setting strict rules and to enforce them. And because Kotaro doesn’t have any knowledge of this man’s true identity, he takes his advice.
Tenko’s childhood starts to drain away right before his very eyes. Slowly.
“It must hurt, right?” There’s the taunt in All For One's voice, sharpened to a blade.
Izuku doesn’t answer.
There’s a slight change in stillness and suddenly, All For One seems to be right next to his ear like a snake poised to strike. “To be a witness and have the inability to do anything.”
Izuku doesn’t answer. He moves.
All For One is so arrogant that he left himself open, green sparks go flying as a blow slams right into his face.
In memories, Izuku can’t do anything. But All For One is not a memory.
He’s a parasite.
All For One lets out a hiss and his presence is snatched away, he’s fragile— he’s fragile inside Tenko’s head, and Izuku has no idea how long he’s been here, which is why he jolts back when everything starts to fall apart.
It’s glass shattering, it’s rips widening open to reveal cracks, and amongst the memories of All For One pulling the strings behind the scenes—
Tenko is taking All For One’s hand—
—hours later, Tenko’s family falls to dust—
—the memories break into shards, leaving behind a white expanse of space.
Izuku is on his knees, a hand clutched over his mouth. His face is damp. Decay isn’t even Tenko’s. All For One gave him that quirk.
“I think I’m dying.”
Izuku scrambles backwards, teary eyes wide, because there is Tenko right in front of him. He’s sitting on the ground, knees drawn up to his chest, with a resigned look in his eyes.
This is not a memory, somehow Izuku knows that. It’s not a memory, somehow Izuku knows that this is his Shigaraki speaking— his Tenko. Tenko, in a form of a little boy, is speaking (he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive) and he thinks he’s dying.
“You’re not dying.” Izuku nearly snaps at him, desperate and fierce in equal measure.
It doesn’t stop Tenko from lowering his eyes. “I…I don’t even know if my choices are my own anymore.”
"Tenko…" The villain’s name is spoken without hesitation. There’s no need for formalities and titles, that much is clear between them. Izuku’s expression is filled with agony, his chest is tight. "You’re still yourself,” he says, "You’re still Tenko. That hasn’t changed.”
But Tenko continues on, almost overlapping with Izuku, “…probably beating me to the ground right around now…” A rueful smile twists at the corner of his mouth. “No, I know he is. He was always that persistent, like an annoying little fly.”
There is this silence suspended in the air from his end. It’s a small chain reaction that sets off in a series of— Tenko is talking to himself to the despairing thought of: Tenko can’t hear me.
The revelation hits harder than it should. Izuku can’t bring himself to say anything. Tenko…can’t hear him… No, that can’t be right…can it?
“Tenko…can you hear me?” he manages to rasp out.
Tenko stands up, it’s a little disconcerting to know that this is his Tenko; he has his memories from up to his current age of twenty-one, but he’s stuck in the form of a little kid right now. Maybe it has to do with All For One lurking in the confines of his mind somewhere, keeping him subdued.
But for now All For One is away.
Izuku watches Tenko start to scratch his neck, a painfully familiar motion, as he looks down. “If this ends with me dying and Midoriya living, I’m gonna haunt him and annoy him to death. Maybe I’ll recreate a crime scene with his All Might figurines.”
For some reason, the image of that makes Izuku want to laugh despite everything. "I mean, if you get an afterlife, then I suppose you could do that." Would you want to?
He doesn't ask that aloud, though.
But you’d want that... right?
Izuku watches as Tenko continues scratching his neck, his heart hurting in a strange way that he can't quite place. Tenko...
“Or if I live…” Tenko trails off and his hand falls away. “If I live…and the League dies— no, no, they won't," he instantly backtracks, shaking his head. He sighs and resumes to scratch— this time, around his right eye. “If I end up living…” He starts again and the League goes unmentioned this time as if they’re already have been taken in account for this next scenario he’s conjuring up. “…I won’t go to prison. I…I think I’d still be a villain. I really do believe what I believe, that the villains need a hero of their own.”
There’s the tears again. This… This is what he’s bearing witness to. Even though Tenko can’t hear him, even though whenever Izuku replies, it falls flat on the ground— despite everything— there’s something almost…miraculous in this moment.
In this moment, Izuku is seeing Tenko just as who he really is.
He’s a villain…
I don’t care if you don’t understand.
…with the heart of a hero.
That’s what makes us heroes and villains.
“…maybe, maybe not everything has to be destroyed,” Tenko says quietly to himself. “Maybe…some things can stay.”
As if he's been given a precious gift. Maybe some things can stay.
Izuku listens to Tenko with an intensity that borders on desperate. Tenko... you do want to protect things. He wants to laugh and cry at the same time, because this is his villain, who he's come to know far better than anyone else. His Tenko.
Tenko quiets, almost like he’s mulling over his thoughts. “Sensei is at the top of the kill list, of course…but then after that…I’d go after the commission next.” A pause. “No…I’m going off track. I have to think about…” Tenko’s expression is almost dry then. “If Midoriya kills me while Sensei is controlling my body, I’ll come back from the dead just so I can dust him myself.” He turns a dark look towards the white void, missing Izuku by miles. And then, almost like an afterthought, he mutters under his breath, “…and if you die and I live…I’ll make everything a wasteland.”
Izuku freezes. There’s so many things he wants to say, something along the lines of I won’t kill you and I’ll save you from All For One and how do you plan to come back from the dead?
That last part was meant to come out as a joke. If there’s anyone that can come back from the dead, it would be Tenko.
But none of that comes out as he focuses on what Tenko said last.
…if you die and I live…I’ll make everything a wasteland.
If he dies…then Tenko will destroy the world in retaliation.
Tenko is willing to destroy the world for him.
His mind reels as the words echo throughout his head. He feels like he’s been sucker punched.
Why?
It was a question that he never had a chance to ask. He has it now, he has the chance to ask: why is Tenko so fixated on him, why is he protecting him after all this time?
The word falls out of him, unbidden. “Why?”
Tenko startles, his eyes widening as for the first time he hears someone else besides himself. “You— you’re here?”
“Of course I’m here.” Izuku is standing up now, his eyes on the little boy in front of him.
Tenko narrows his eyes and turns his gaze to Izuku but it’s not quite right. Not concrete. It’s a tell-tale sign that Tenko can’t see him. But that’s okay, slowly, gradually, he’s making himself appear towards Tenko. Somehow.
“Of course you are.” Tenko’s shoulders lowers considerably, but his voice falls flat the way it always does. “Let me guess. Since you’re inside my head now, you’re planning to— what, save me from All For One?”
“Well, yeah.” Because there really isn’t any other conclusion to all of this that Izuku could consider other than doing just that.
Maybe it was always planned this way all along.
Tenko falls silent. His eyes are searching, trying to land on Izuku, but finding empty spaces instead. It hurts Izuku so much, makes him ache something terrible because he wants Tenko to see how much he means it.
That he wants to save him.
(That he cares about him.)
(That he—)
For a long moment, Tenko doesn’t speak. Izuku waits for him, patiently so. There’s skepticism there, written all over Tenko’s face, but there’s also resignation. As if Tenko can’t believe a word he’s saying, but he also does because of course that’s what Izuku is going to do.
Eventually, a small sigh escapes Tenko and he suddenly looks smaller. Like he’s that defeated little boy sitting by the shed with his dog in his arms again.
Before his life broke into pieces.
“…You should go back.”
“What?” The disbelief is prominent in his voice. Go back? Is Tenko just…giving up? Izuku stands there, paralyzed, staring at him in disbelief. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, his voice firm.
Tenko rolls his eyes, an action that triggers a sudden onslaught of exhaustion that he’s been so clearly trying to ignore from the way his shoulders slump heavily. “You have to,” he says simply like it’s the most basic fact in the world. “All For One's controlling me, doing who the fuck knows what out there and instead of stopping him, you’re in here. Wasting your time.”
It’s a little disconcerting, hearing the same sweet little boy that Izuku had bore witness to in a sea of memories swear so bluntly like it’s nothing. But then again, the Tenko in front of him is the current Tenko. Despite being stuck in this state, in this form, it’s still him.
And Tenko does raise a point, All For One is still controlling him like a marionette. He’s still hiding somewhere deep in Tenko’s head; pulling the strings to his limbs, taking possession of his voice, his mannerisms, his everything. All For One has made home— and Izuku burns to even think about Tenko this way— in his vessel.
Yes, All For One could be doing anything right now and he would be none the wiser because he’s here inside the confines of Tenko’s mind.
But he’s not wasting his time, he’s not leaving this place without Tenko.
He just needs to to figure out a way to do that first because…he doesn’t really know exactly how he ended up here. The mechanics of it. One moment, he was aiming a fist, then the next, he was falling into the universe that was Tenko’s very own mind.
There’s no clear logic, no clear chain reaction. It only happened and now he’s here. He’s here and he isn’t going to leave Tenko behind.
Izuku regards Tenko steadily. Even though Tenko can’t see him, he hopes the conviction is made palpable in his voice. “Saving you isn’t a waste of time.”
Tenko stares. “You’ve lost it.” Then he starts to walk away.
Izuku’s heart sinks. He’s walking away. He’s walking away. “Wait!” It comes out as a desperate cry even though he tries to hold himself together as best he can. He follows after Tenko, trying to keep up while reaching an open hand out. “Tenko, stop!”
Tenko doesn’t stop walking. He continues on, eyes trained ahead of him, and doesn’t look back once.
Why is he not listening to me? Izuku tries to grab his arm, but his hand goes right through him. He runs forward, grasping at thin air, the distance between him and Tenko growing more pronounced with every step. “Stop! Please! Listen to me!”
Why is he so stubborn!?
Tenko doesn’t even seem to hear him.
That doesn’t stop Izuku from trying again. “Tenko, listen. I’m not leaving without you! You have to listen to me!”
Tenko keeps walking.
Izuku feels the urge to scream because where is he going? But he doesn’t. He just keeps running because it’s the only thing he can do.
Tenko, look back.
He doesn’t.
Tenko, listen to me.
He isn’t listening.
If this was the outside world, Izuku would’ve caught up to Tenko easily. He has the advantage of his limbs being longer, of being faster— but in this world, logic doesn’t apply. Tenko is in the form of his little kid self and yet Izuku is struggling to even reach him. The space between them is growing larger and larger and all Izuku wants to do right now is cry because Tenko is right here and Tenko has someone trying to lend a hand out to him so adamantly, so unrelenting, but Tenko is still walking away.
It bursts out of him, the final revelation.
“Don’t you want to be saved?!”
Tenko stops, and in tandem, the distance shortens. Izuku is suddenly right next to him, trying to catch his breath with hands on his knees.
“I did once.”
And Izuku knows, he knows, he knows, he knows. The hands that Tenko reached out with while wandering the streets were turned away by people who were complicit and comfortable by their inaction.
Izuku knows.
“I know."
Tenko has his eyes lowered. “I still don’t get it.”
It’s Izuku’s turn to drop his gaze now, if only momentarily. He knows he owes Tenko the truth. It’s one thing to be here, present, but it’s another thing to…
He sighs and straightens himself up, opening his eyes. “I saw your memories.”
Tenko’s expression doesn’t change, he keeps his eyes on his feet. “Of course you did.” It’s a weary and resigned statement as if this is what he expected. Izuku would’ve known everything now, his entire life.
(There’s something uncomfortable about being so utterly known by someone. And there’s something even more uncomfortable about being known and not being rejected because of it.)
“And I still want to save you,” Izuku insists, holding onto to that conviction in his heart that is now burning even more stronger than before. He does. With his entire soul, he truly does.
“You’re so stupid,” Tenko mutters, but there isn’t any heat to it. It’s not even an insult at this point, it’s just an observation.
“It’s not stupid to want to save you,” Izuku retorts and when Tenko doesn’t say anything, his voice borders on insistent. “To not want you to give up.”
Nothing.
Izuku tries a different tactic.
“What happened to ‘villains need a hero of their own?’”
Tenko’s eyes fly open, his mouth forms a snarl as he takes a step back. “Don’t say that to me.”
“Why not?” Izuku counters, taking a step forward. He’s not going to let Tenko walk away again, not when Tenko is this close. “It’s what you’ve said before. It’s what you believe in, isn’t it?”
“I do—” Tenko is walking backwards now, his hands going up to tug at his hair. “But I—” He’s breathing more heavily now as his eyes grow round with panic and something more shattered. Izuku reaches out to him again, an instinct now, this wild urge to just hold Tenko tight and never let him go.
But his fingers pass through Tenko again.
“…What choices are my own..?”
It’s like every layer Tenko has ever worn has been stripped bare. This is Tenko before he became the leader of the League of Villains. This is Tenko before he was manipulated and groomed by All For One. This is Tenko before he was left to fend for himself in the streets after going through one of the worst things unimaginable.
This is Tenko regressing.
The apathy, the dry humor, his cynicism, his cut-throat anger, and all things that make Tenko…Tenko have been flayed away to reveal this little kid who simply just wants reassurance most of all.
This is the most vulnerable that he’s ever been and Izuku doesn’t know how to deal with it other than to try.
It aches so much because he’s here and he can’t even touch him.
Izuku’s eyes soften. “Tenko, your choices are your own.” He’s said it before but he’ll say it again now that Tenko can hear him. But Tenko just shakes his head.
“No,” he breathes out. “They’re not.” And then again, “They’re not.” His expression is wild with this frenzied panic even as he continues, “All For One gave me Decay, he— he was friends with my father…he built my childhood home…he did everything just so I could become—” Tenko trips mid-step, and he stumbles to the ground. The tears that’s collecting in his eyes is a sight so eerily familiar to when Kotaro slapped him across the face. “—a thing to be used,” he spits out finally. “That’s all I ever was to my sensei, I was just a weapon, I didn’t have a choice right from the beginning. I didn’t even have a chance to be normal.” His voice breaks near the end. “But I guess I was never normal, so who else would’ve validated my existence given the way I am?”
“Your existence is more than who you’re molded to be,” says Izuku and his hands feel useless, hanging at his sides. He wants to reach out, but he’s scared he’ll go through him again. So, he keeps to himself and makes his voice soft instead. “Your existence is more than anything All For One has given you but also…more than what All For One has taken from you. You can be your own person without him. Whatever he has done to you, it doesn’t have to define you.”
Tenko’s shoulders rise and fall with every breath. “And what if…” he begins in a soft, quiet manner, “What if I’m still angry anyway?”
(This is a question that’s been building up inside of him for the longest time because anger is easy. Anger is simple. Anger is a comfort to him because that’s all he can fall back on whenever anything else feels too overwhelming to face.)
“Then you’ll be angry.” Izuku responds simply.
He’s not going to try and change Tenko into something he’s not. That’s not how this works and it’s just not who he is.
“You’ll be angry and that’s okay. I’m not going to tell you that it’s not. You have every right to be angry, Tenko.”
The words ring heavy between them. In the silence, Tenko looks up at the empty space where Izuku’s figure should be. “I just…” he says, “I don’t think I can forget…everything that I went through.”
“I’m not asking you to forget.” The words are said gently. There’s no use in erasing everything that made Tenko into who he is today.
There’s no use in trying to change him because that would be disrespecting what he had gone through.
“I’d never…ask you to do that, Tenko.”
“So then what are you asking for?” The question is asked quietly, almost whispered. “To just move on? From everything?”
“No.” Izuku’s answer comes quickly. “Not that either.” Because that’s not something he can just tell Tenko to do. Tenko has to do that on his own terms, his own time. “I’m not asking you to do any of that, I just…” He kneels down to Tenko’s eyelevel, willing himself to form the words he needs to say. “I want you to let yourself be saved.”
Tenko’s expression is unreadable. He regards Izuku carefully. And then he finally answers, in a voice that is so small and quiet, “I don’t know if I can.”
“You can,” Izuku persists. “You can let yourself be saved. You deserve that, Tenko.”
“Why?” the question bursts out of Tenko, his voice rising and echoing across the never-ending white space.
“Because you’re more than everything you’ve been through and everything you’ve become.” The words are firm and honest. “You’re more than a tool to be wielded by All For One. You’re more than a weapon to be used against the world because right now, you need someone to reach out an open hand. You need someone to reach out to you and tell you that everything will be okay and that you will be okay.”
Tenko swallows. (He’s tired, he’s so tired. He’s so tired of everything.
The memory of Izuku’s outstretched hand flashes across his mind: Give me your hand. Grab my hand.)
He clenches and unclenches his own hand. It’s trembling now.
“Tenko.”
(Izuku is gentle, his tone so patient and understanding. Like they have all the time in the world.)
“Reach for me.”
And so, he does.
Tenko reaches out a hand towards the empty air. At first, he expects to go through, but instead, he’s met with the touch of something warm. Solid. Real. He’s met with Izuku’s hand wrapping around his wrist in a gentle grip.
And all of the sudden, Tenko can see him.
He sees Izuku right there in front of him, holding his wrist and his hand sliding down to interlock with his as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Logic doesn’t apply here; Izuku doesn’t fall to dust.
Tenko stares at where their hands are interlocked. Then his gaze goes up, until he’s staring right back at green eyes, bright like grass after a rain.
Everything seems to rush back at once.
The reality of here and now, the fact that he’s holding Tenko’s hand. Izuku never felt more hopeful than he does right now. His voice is soft when he speaks, all his heart in this just one name, “Tenko…”
“Izuku…” Tenko begins, but his voice suddenly comes out broken.
This is real.
He's right in front of him, and he's holding onto his hand.
Izuku squeezes Tenko’s hand in reassurance. It feels right, holding his hand like this. A part of him is terrified of letting go because this is Tenko in front of him after everything that had happened.
He’s afraid of Tenko disappearing.
I found you.
I see you.
I know you.
Izuku has been drifting in and out from memory to memory, has seen Tenko at his best and has seen him at his worst. He knows Tenko’s favorite food, his favorite drink, he knows that Tenko looked up to his sister as if she held the entire world in her grasp and he knows that Tenko loved his mother to bits and pieces— that he loves her still.
Because this is who Tenko is. He loves, and just like every human being out there, he wants to be loved in return. That’s what he needed then and that’s what he needs now.
To be loved.
And Tenko cares. He cares so, so much. That’s why the outcasts and villains of society follow him like a prophet. Because he cares. Because he sees them. And he knows because he understands.
Izuku got plunged into this ocean of memories by a fluke of Fate. He has seen and he understands.
Tenko reached out to him and all is right with the world.
Izuku can’t even begin to pretend to know exactly how all of this works, how he knew that Tenko had to be the one to reach for his hand for him to be seen. He doesn’t know the limits of reality here, he doesn’t know how far logic and physics can bend until they break.
But.
Somehow, by some means in the universe, Izuku finally knows a way out.
He just has to take Tenko there.
Izuku smiles at Tenko, warm and true, letting himself acknowledge what he has known all along, letting himself unbury it with little to no resistance, letting the love he feels for Tenko to be shown to Tenko and Tenko alone.
This is Izuku showing his heart.
He squeezes Tenko’s hand once more. “Let’s get out of here.”
—
Izuku walks, Tenko follows. Still holding hands, they walk.
The void is still an expanse of white and Tenko has his gaze turned towards the ground, struck silent and dry-eyed.
It was perhaps the first time, Tenko had looked at Izuku like the birth of a star was unfolding right there in front of him.
Izuku showed his heart and Tenko hadn’t turned him away.
He’s here now and he’s walking, he’s here now and he’s letting himself be saved.
As they walk, Tenko starts to change.
From the scarless little boy with dark hair and clothes that his parents picked out, to the lost traumatized child with hair dusted with gray-blue and hands stained with red.
Izuku doesn’t let go.
Tenko grows taller, a pre-teen now. His hair is pale blue and he’s wearing all black. That’s how it goes; they walk and walk and Tenko changes bit by bit.
Izuku walks with Tenko through all the stages of his life.
To when Tenko debuted as a villain with hands covering his arms and face. To when Tenko started wearing that trench coat, less hands on him this time. To when Tenko started to emerge as his own, with his own agenda, his own goals that were separate from All For One.
Tenko’s hair starts to turn white, grows a little longer.
Tenko is taller than Izuku now, wearing what he’s been wearing as he emerged from the ruins of Jaku General Hospital: black with a red cape, a mimicry of Nana Shimura, his late grandmother and the seventh user of One for All.
The emptiness stretches out before them until it doesn’t anymore. There’s a light in front of them, they just have to step through and reality will come back to greet them once again.
A smile spreads on Izuku's face. He turns to Tenko, his hand still intertwined with his. "Ready?"
Tenko squeezes his hand, silent for a bit before the corner of his mouth quirks in an attempt of a smile. “As I’ll ever be.”
The answer warms him. Taking a deep breath, Izuku's gaze lands back on the light and they begin to walk forward.
The stars rush out to fold them in.