5 Gaussian Integral

'The age of heroics has brought about a technological stagnation. Even after the glories of the past were reclaimed in the Golden Age, we have hardly advanced one iota. The body of knowledge has decreased, and students care more for the flash of heroes than they do for sciences grounded in knowledge and economics based on historical patterns. I hold all who call themselves a hero accountable. We look to them as saviours and become complacent with our lot in life. By their very existence, they hold back advancement. There was a time when advancements were commonplace, new industries created often, and the people driven to make something with their own knowledge. That time has ended.'

—Excerpt from 'The Effect of Heroics' by Saruhiko Ando.

Izuku focuses as hard as he can, ignoring the budding headache because this might be the one. His shadow vibrates on the ground and Izuku's hands shake with exertion as he does his best to pull the darkness out. He watches, mesmerised, as a single tendril of shadow rises in the real world.

"Yes," he shouts, and the laughs hysterically. He has finally done it. This is proof that he wasn't completely mad. This is his bedroom in the waking, and a thin tendril of shadow undulates in the air, indifferent to the impossibility of a shadow having volume.

He pokes at it. It makes a clear sound and Izuku pauses to wonder if it's a normal sound or one that exists outside of sanity. He shrugs as he long ago lost any claim to sanity. He grabs it. Pulls. In his hand, he holds what might be considered an incredibly long needle. He nearly presses his finger to the sharp tip before deciding that might not be the best idea in the world.

Instead, he pokes his pillow and watches it sink deep without the slightest hint of resistance. He raises a brow, wondering how it would fare against something harder. He raises the needle. Aims at the wall. Throws it. Partway there, it unravels and wisps of darkness float through the air for a second. Izuku watches them fade away like ashes after a volcanic eruption.

"Fuck," he curses. "It took me an hour to do that." He takes a deep breath and calms himself.

Making another one is slightly easier. There is a pattern, an understanding of impossible physics that seems to imprint itself on his mind.

It only takes him an hour this time instead of the just over an hour. The tendril is thicker, less fine gossamer thread and more strand of hair. He decides not to pull it out of his shadow. Closing one eye, he holds the image of a circle in the back of his eyelid and watches it ponderously twist to the shape of his commanding, a single strand still connecting it to his shadow. It isn't fast and there's a resistance here that the other world doesn't have.

He watches the circle revolve slowly. Imagines it sharpen and hears a hum of acknowledgement from it. And then, with a single command, he watches it fly across the room and stab halfway through his wall.

It makes him smile. It's the first real progress he's had in a while.

Getting back to the dark below is difficult, and whilst he can sometimes feel himself sinking, he never gets all the way there. So, he does what he needs to and becomes very creative in the ways he dies. He finds the knife too time-consuming in terms of clean-up, and anyway he doesn't want to go to the effort of hiding new scars or explaining away why he needs a local anaesthetic. Drowning is a deeply terrifying experience and one he has no intention of trying again.

Death by hanging is the simplest, cleanest, and most efficient way of getting to the place.

He learns the flavours of death, becomes close as lovers inexorably twined till the end of time. The impossible scent you smell before you die reminds him of petrichor, the first rains of the season, but both sharper and subtler. He comes to know the feeling of his brain shutting down, the terror of forgetting the who what why why why that a person instinctively knows through the lives; learns the sensation of nerves firing one last time, raging in defiance against numbness as a war god does against his enemies.

Four notebooks he leaves in his room—three on his quirk and one completely blank just in case—before going to his new favourite place. He's walked the path towards it so often that only the bravest creatures do anything but run immediately. And the brave ones are less courageous than they are mad and foolish as don't survive more than a few seconds, sometimes impaled by a dark spear and sometimes crushed by a flood of shadows.

Izuku isn't the biggest or most dangerous creature even cloaked in shadows that whip and strike his enemies. No, there are creatures that still make him shiver in terror. He can keep this realm relatively sane by anchoring a portion as large as he wants to see to his shadows and the space in his mind where he forgets many things. It creates a temporary world that obeys laws he understands. Sometimes his concentration falters and he sees the infernal nightmares just lurking in the background like the dragon mostly eaten by a black hole in the distance or the light-killer tower hovering over everything.

There are spots slightly better than others. Despite the revulsion he feels, the beached whales are quite peaceful, and their cries tell a story of a people long dead who have chosen to continue no matter their form. It takes him a long time to realise they're just as scared of the real monsters hiding in the depths as he is, so they hide near the surface. They are pitiful, but never malicious. They speak freely of their memories of true life, not this eternal undeath they suffer through. Every word of planets burning and a people enacting a mad plan that went against all mortal and esoteric laws makes him love humans just the tiniest bit more.

None of that interests him as much as the forest of floating trees. The trees are the largest he's ever imagined, taller than the sky and wider than his neighbourhood. He can't tell if they're a single creature or a collective for they move in eerie synchronicity, sometimes going to depths Izuku hates following and sometimes being right outside the safe spot of his room. But something there is calling to him and he can't ignore it.

There is little light in this place so Izuku always brings a headlamp and a powerful torch as a backup to create the contrast he needs to work his powers. It has the unfortunate side effect of alerting the denizens to his presence.

He dodges a spear and raises a shadow shield before another can strike him through the face. He's yet to die here and has no plans on finding out how permanent it is. So, he sends a fist of shadow to the creature trying to flank him. It is much larger than Izuku, made up entirely of very elastic purple-black threads that stretch and elongate easily. It makes fighting them hard because he can never be too sure which direction they'll attack from.

It also makes fighting them fun.

His shield shatters. Izuku ducks low an instant before a claw takes his face, slipping a bit on the uneven root. He grimaces as the blow tears a line through his shoulder and sweeps the creature of its legs that are only sometimes there before backing away.

There's one in the air. Izuku sends a series of shadow bullets at it and watches in satisfaction as it falls out the sky. The one he shoved aside earlier charges Izuku, one arm stretching and closing the distance rapidly.

He scrambles to the side. Fails to stick the landing. Hits his hurt shoulder on the massive tree root.

The three creatures regroup. He curses.

Why won't they back down? Izuku wonders as he dodges another spear. And where the hell do they get all the spears?

After a week of fighting these creatures each time he enters the forest, Izuku still has no idea. But there's something at the centre of the forest that beckons him, a heady pull he can never resist. And he really, really wants to know what it is that draws his attention so.

Have you tried talking to them, the voice says, distracting Izuku and making him take a blow to the chest from the flying creature. He lashes out with his elbow. Kicks it across its dark face. Slams it with a wave of shadow and watches it fall of the massive root.

Great, you're back, Izuku thinks and forges another shield. It holds up against the spear-thrower and is too tall for even the other one to wriggle around even if it does extend its limbs. He has to watch his right flank because of his injured shoulder, but he has a selection of lances ready to fire given the slightest provocation.

"Of course, I did," Izuku says, trying to calm his breathing. "I nearly lost an eye because of it."

No, you didn't you idi—Give me a moment. Everything is silent in his head for a moment. And then he hears screams and the voice raging at something. He can hear sounds of battle, the clang of immutable ideas clashing with entropic chaos. That makes Izuku pause.

"Great, now the voices in my head actually do stuff."

When it returns, it brings with it static. The voice sighs in relief. You never tried talking to them. Izuku's protests are cut off as the voice simply continues. How do you speak to your shadows?

Izuku frowns. He doesn't, as far as he can tell. "Okay, either shut up or go away."

Blessedly, the voice goes away.

A roar rends the air. Izuku leaps back instantly, not in the slightest shocked that his barrier breaks. Concentration has something to do with the strength of his constructs.

The large, bulky one elongates from the neck. Its head is like a bullet full of sharp teeth. Izuku ducks down, pulling his shoulder wound and decides this might be as good a time as any to get the hell out of dodge.

He bolts to the right. He nearly takes a spear to the neck before he reaches the edge of the giant root. He doesn't hesitate to leap down.

There is water beneath him. He hates going deeper into the abyss when he can avoid it, but the doorway he senses one level down can take him two levels left and one up. He's not sure exactly how space and geometry behave other than that they sometimes exist.

More often he has to force them to exist.

The creatures in the air ignore him, thankfully, though one that's a cross between a seagull, a lizard and a gas cloud does inspect him for a long time. It hurts his brain a bit to see organs held suspended in a gaseous liquid fade and reappear with each beat of its wings.

With a grin, Izuku waves at it. It turns away and Izuku watches it dive down, its wings turning gaseous then back in sequence.

Izuku takes in a deep breath well before he hits the pink water. He has no intention of swallowing the intraocular fluid of a creature whose eye is probably larger than Russia. It is warm and sticky, disgustingly so. He pushes his revulsion away and swims to the bottom where he can sense the doorway.

Halfway there, he runs out of breath, vision going dark in spots. It makes him curse because he hates drowning. But he's long ago accepted doing crazy things to get what he wants. There's no air here and if he holds his breath long enough then the lack of oxygen will kill him. And that isn't an option

So, he takes a deep breath and lets the thick, sticky fluid fill his mouth and lungs.

The dark spots disappear as he breathes the ocular fluid of the creature. Izuku swims until he reaches the bottom, as brightly lit as the surface which should bother Izuku but glowing eyes aren't really anything special at this point.

He takes a knife from his pocket and stabs it through the surface. A dark fluid spurts out in long arcs like ink in water. Izuku doesn't breathe it in. He works his knife quickly, forming a simple rectangle. Already, the horizon is darkening from the creature closing its eye. And when it closes fully, Izuku knows he'll be completely fucked. Instinct has rarely failed him in the place.

When he's made the slices, Izuku grips the flaps and pulls with all his strength. It takes nearly half a minute before he can pull the flesh off completely and reveal the shimmering doorway. Izuku steps through before darkness overtakes him.

He falls out onto the surface of a dead star, wincing as he lands on his shoulder again. He checks the wound. Finds it already scarring instead of bleeding. He shrugs, wiping away the ocular fluid on his face.

Ocular fluid has healing properties, he thinks so he can jot it down along with the eye's location in his notebook later.

The aren't any landmarks on the flames forever frozen and dark so Izuku simply picks a direction and walks. His watch tells him its close to midnight. Good, lots of time to get back before his mother found whatever his body did when he died.

TDB

TDB

The next few days are busy and frantic. Time's running out and he starts feeling the pressure of everything. Tests and pop quizzes at school stop being a surprise and more of a daily occurrence. Despite their migraine-inducing difficulty, Izuku manages to keep on top of them. It might mean having to spend time in the abyss to take advantage of the weird temporal mechanics there for the deeper he goes, the slower time in the real-world passes—and he's certain that if he goes deep enough there's a place where an eternity will last shorter than the blink of an eye in the real, and perhaps even deeper there's a place where the reverse is true.

It is Saturday when he receives a text from All Might that something has come up and he won't make it for their training. Izuku shrugs. It is not the first time this has happened. After all, All Might is still a hero with duties and obligations. And whilst Izuku knows little of the man's personal life aside from his name, he has no doubts that the training has stopped him from taking care of his personal life.

"Kaa-san," he greets in the kitchen as he mixes a protein shake.

She smiles at him, the skin tight on her face. Not in a bad way, and it makes him pause because when had his mother lost weight? She looks healthier, and he wonders if its because he takes care of more of the cleaning giving her more personal time.

She ruffles his hair, hand lingering on the scar where the hair has grown in white. He chose not to dye it because every time he looked in the mirror it reminds him that death is always a mistake away. And death means his secret might be revealed

And regardless of how odd it might look or how it made him an easier target for the bullies at school, he will forever cherish how Kaachan told those assholes to fuck off. He's not sure how to deal with Katsuki when he's being so… nice is a stretch, but not intentionally violently antagonistic.

And maybe we can be friends, again, Izuku thinks and that brings a smile to his face.

He hears a snort in the back of his mind. Don't forget what he did, the voice roars and then cackles madly. Izuku rolls his eyes and ignores it.

"You doing alright, honey?" she asks, smile strained just a bit.

He chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his head. He nearly knocks over the protein shake. "Just zoned out a bit." Then he notices how she's dressed up a bit. "Are you going anywhere? I can make dinner if you're coming back late."

Her smile turns towards fondness. "You're too sweet." Izuku ducks his head, flushing. "I wanted to show you something special but if you need to train we can do it later."

Izuku looks up. Sees her kind expression. Puts the protein shake in the fridge. "Sure. I can take a run in the evening just as well."

They're in the car, shitty pop music blaring, and talking about nothing in particular. He shuffles a deck of cards, palming a card every now and then and trying a card trick his mother had shown him a few days ago. She laughs when he messes up and the card hits him straight across the face. She laughs harder when it sticks to his forehead.

He drops the entire deck when she stops abruptly, cursing at the pedestrian who decided jaywalking was perfectly acceptable in the middle of a busy road. He reaches down to pick up the cards. Then freezes. Some of them are sinking into his shadow.

Izuku swallows and reaches towards it. His hand sinks in slightly. He closes his hand and pulls back. Inside his clenched fist are the few cards that had sunk in.

"Izuku?" his mother questions, eyes flicking to him and then back to the road.

He shrugs. "New to me." And quite frankly, it's not particularly worrying compared to many of the things he's seen. He tells her as much which only makes her frown.

"You're sure you don't want to go to a counsellor?"

Izuku rolls his eyes. This isn't the first time she's suggested it. "This isn't anywhere near as bad as the maths on the wall thing."

"That's my point. You wrote that in your own blood. It hurt my head to look at it and you think that's a normal thing." She sighs. "Izuku, I can do the proof for a Gaussian integral in my head. I didn't even know how to do basic calculus before then."

He has nothing to say to that. "Sorry you're smarter now?" he offers, only a little petulant.

She sighs, before pulling over and parking. "Just promise me you won't keep things from me."

"What if they're not my secrets to tell?" he asks, stepping out the door. He looks up and reads the sign 'Anteiku' with a frown. He's never heard of the place.

"If it doesn't affect you, that's fine." She walks through the door and greets the old man behind the counter.

They're led to a table and given a menu. "Sure," he agrees. "So, why are we here again?" he asks then orders a cup of green tea even as his mother orders some coffee that sounds more complicated than a Gaussian proof.

"Because you need to rest and relax."

"At a coffee store? Caffeine is not a relaxant, Kaa-san."

"Maybe not for you." She takes a sip of her coffee when it comes. It's strong enough that he wonder's if he can get caffeinated by the vapour alone. "Besides, this place is special."

"Are we going to play the gues—" He pauses when he feels something brush against his leg. He tenses and looks down.

And sees a cat.

A bright orange cat that stares back at him disdainfully.

His mother laughs. Izuku looks up and sees her petting a grey patterned cat.

"Huh," is all he says. A cat slinks along a window sill, tail raised imperiously and leaps to the seat next to Izuku. It has one eye and black fur. He reaches out cautiously and lets in sniff his finger. It bumps his has fingers with its nose and walks right onto his lap. It circles a few times and then curls in place.

"Huh," he says again as the cat purrs contentedly, loud enough that he feels it in his bones.

"I told you it was special," his mother says.

He raises his cup in acknowledgement and asks her what she's been doing in her spare time. He lets her voice wash over him, absently stroking the cat. And after nearly half an hour, she reaches into her handbag and pulls out a book.

"Here," she says and hands it to him. "I thought you might like it."

The hardcover lacks the usual cover sleeve, but he can see the author's name written in tiny gold handwriting. 'Hawkmoon' it reads and below that 'My Eclipse'. On the first page is writing in faded pen.

Izuku looks up in shock, jostling the cat who meows in frustration. "Kaa-san, this is a signed copy," he says in shock. "These things cost a fortune."

"Yes," she says simply. "Read the signature."

He frowns. Opens the page. "'To a young Hisashi whom I hope to see again, from Yui whom Hakwmoon eclipsed,'" he reads. Then freezes. "Is this…"

"It was your father's. I forgot all about it. I guess I never wanted to look through the boxes of all the stuff he left."

Izuku frowns. "He's not dead."

And somehow that makes her infinitely sadder. "No, he isn't." She forces a smile. "And I know he'd be happier with someone reading it than to let it gather dust."

That's the last they speak of it. When she's ready to leave, Izuku asks if he can stay a little longer. She smiles and gives him some money before heading out. He reads the book, drinking another cup of tea, and savouring each word from one of the great heroes of history.

Sometimes he must check Wikipedia to check his facts. Geography isn't in his arsenal of skill, so knowing she slew the indomitable Titan in Sao Luis means nothing until he googles the place and sees the monument to the battle.

He isn't paying attention when he stands, the cat in his arm, and knocks into someone. Startled, he reaches out and grabs a hand before the person can fall. He looks up and meets purple eyes with dark bags beneath them.

"S-sorry," Izuku says and let's go hastily. "I wasn't paying attention."

The boy stares at Izuku. Then at the cat. "I've never seen you before. Mika doesn't like newcomers."

He frowns. Mika? He thinks, then looks at the cat that's watching him with its single eye.

"This is my first time," he says quickly, anxiously. "Deku. Midoriya, I mean, that's my name, Izuku, and sorry for knocking you over, I should probably pay attention more."

The boy frowns. "It's fine."

"You look tired. School tests?"

The boy tilts his head, almost cautious. "Yes?" he ventures.

Izuku smiles broadly, fearlessly. "Yeah. My ma brought me here cause apparently I'm too stressed or something but hey, whatever, it's not like cats are a problem ever—"

"Midoriya," the boy says sharply, cutting him off. "It's fine. You're stressing the cat."

He looks down. Sees Mika's hair raised on end. Takes a deep breath.

"Sorry."

The boy rolls his eyes. "Stop apologising."

"Sorr…" he trails off at the boy's gaze. It isn't anywhere near as terrifying as some of the things he's seen but he's even less sure of humans than he is of nightmare creatures.

Izuku takes a seat and gestures to the opposite one. The boy sits, uncertain, and Izuku wonders if maybe something horrible is peaking through his grin.

"I never got your name."

The boy paused. "Shinsou. Hitoshi Shinsou."

"Hi, Shinsou," Izuku says brightly. It is odd talking to someone his age who doesn't automatically dislike him. "Which school are you applying to?"

Shinsou looks away and reaches for the cat next to him. It scrambles up his leg and jumps to his shoulder. He still as the cat gets comfortable on its new perch.

"UA," he says once the cat isn't about to tumble off.

He looks to Izuku expectantly. "Oh, right, that's awesome. We might even be classmates."

"You're applying there as well?" Izuku nods. "What's your quirk?"

Izuku freezes. He's never really thought about how to answer that question. Its never really come up and he can't just say One for All because that isn't his quirk. At least, not yet.

"Sorry," Shinsou says. "Didn't mean to make you upset."

"Didn't you just tell me to stop apologising?"

"I only did it once." His voice never rises above a monotone.

Izuku forces a smile. "I just got my quirk, so I never really gave it a name." He points to the flare of white hair at his temple. "Hidden quirk. Traumatic incident. Tried to fight a pole with my face."

That's not what happened, the voice roars. Izuku's smile becomes strained as the voice screams in a voice that isn't wholly human.

"Are you okay?" Shinsou asks. "You've got a nosebleed."

Izuku curses and reaches for a napkin in his pocket, placing it to his nose. "Sorry. I get those occasionally."

Especially when some people are screaming in my head, he thinks angrily. Can you shut up already?

The voice cackles once more. Two plus two is four, minus infinity that's death. Quick maths. Die, you bastard, die.

Izuku winces and does his best to ignore the voice. He sees Shinsou watching him worriedly.

"I think I need to head home anyway," Izuku says before his head gets any worse. "See you later?"

"I guess?"

He must look ridiculous with a cat in one hand and a bloody napkin in the other. He makes it work as he writes his phone number down on the back of a receipt and slides it over to Shinsou. That's how people make friends from what he's seen on TV. He hasn't really had the opportunity to practice it in real life.

TDB

TDB

Izuku continues to train ceaselessly. His body grows stronger even as his training regime gets progressively harder. All Might is relentless in making Izuku stronger. The sessions get bad enough that he feels like he'll pass out in his tracksuit even on a colder evening. He takes to wearing a long-sleeved compression shirt so All Might never sees the scar on his arm, and leggings beneath his shorts to avoid chaffing and irritating blisters.

Jin Mo-Ri is equally relentless, drilling the fundamentals in Izuku's head until he dreams of stances and kicks, defence flowing to offence in fluid motions. He ruthlessly takes advantage of having more time in the abyss and puts everything in practice against the less terrifying denizens. It makes him think harder, but it also helps him rely on his instincts a bit more.

Nearly a week after going to the café, he gets a message from Shinsou. It's short, concise and his response is just as awkward as he agrees to meet again next week. They send messages back and forth, not many since Izuku can tell Shinsou is just as busy as he is. And maybe just as lonely. So Izuku does put in the effort to reply as soon as he gets a message, even if his reply is stilted and awkward, and occasionally he gets a reprimand from his teachers to pay attention.

Trying to communicate with another human being is difficult, and very often his intent gets lost by the barrier of screen and text, but that struggle makes him understand what the voice was saying.

He drops down through a doorway and lands on a root. It takes only seconds before the stretchy creatures appear. There's the usual spear-morph but there are additional flight-morphs. And this isn't really a fight he can win.

Which is good because he doesn't want to fight.

"I don't want a fight," he says, raising his empty hands. And then, he says it differently. It takes him a moment to concentrate on his shadow. Izuku tries his best to let his feelings resonate with his shadow.

The creatures pause and one even stumbles back. Good, that meant it worked. The spear-morph walks forward on its four legs that stretch and contract and looms over Izuku. He trembles because he won't be able to dodge from this range if it attacks him.

/You speak now after attacking us/

He winces. It isn't a voice so much as it is a scalpel writing those words in his skull.

"Sorry," Izuku says, and sends the feelings through his shadow. "I never wanted a fight."

/You took joy/pleasure/revelation in combat, thief/

"Why are you calling me that?" he asks, barely pausing to wonder how surreal the situation is.

/Your nature/ The creature tilts its head back and Izuku watches it elongate to one of the flighty-morphs. They seem to converse and Izuku waits nervously for its head to return. /Come, robber/

He frowns as the lumbering monster made of purple-black threads turns and walks away. The other creatures don't seem to care as they disperse. The walk is long, and after a day of training with all Might, it is harder than he expected. The trees lighten from the darkest night to a pale purple, maybe lavender, and grow progressively thinner. He's amazed the first time a root suddenly grows as they're about to reach an edge but by the eighth time there isn't anything too special about it.

His head whips back and forth as he tries to keep track of all the creatures living in this floating forest—some, the flight-morphs mainly, keep to the canopy and Izuku only glimpses them the one time they ascend; the spear-morphs seem content with their place in the roots; yet he can't help but wonder how exactly the large, bulky ones are in the trees, literally in the trees.

He places a hand on one of the lightest trees and is slammed with a wave of knowledge. Not eldritch knowledge that must never be spoken for fear of ending the world. No, this was the knowledge of an elder watching thousands upon thousands of generations grow and live and die and live again.

He looks to the thread-creature leading him. "You become the trees when you die," he whispers in awe.

The creature's head twists around even as it continues walking forward. /All knowledge/wisdom/experience flows back to the source-heart/

They pass what might be a gate and walk into a circle of brilliantly white trees, so thin that they look like saplings. At the very centre is a cauldron and within it burns a fire of the infernal darkness, a fire that hurts to look at. It burns everything its flames reach, from the light to even gravity and time and the barriers between galaxies, and for a single instance, he sees a spark of red flames in another world.

/THIEF/BURGLAR/TRANSGRESSOR/ the booming voice of eight trees, collectively older than his universe, knocks Izuku to the ground. /HAVE YOU COME TO REPENT/

Izuku spits out blood, having bitten through his tongue. "I'm not a thief."

/Your skin morph shares a kinship with the first thief/ one tree older than the stars intones.

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

/THEN SEE/

Light bursts to life, bright and brilliant enough to boil his eyes. He screams as they force their way into his mind and make him see. The trees are the form the thread-creatures take once they die but that isn't the last stage. No, these trees billions of years old will pass on and begin life anew, infinitely wiser and more powerful.

And yet, on the creation of the first elder, something broke through the tree canopy and stole it away. Thousands died under the shrill scream of the twisted bird abomination, and the elder trees could only watch as the oldest—now the youngest—had its essence ripped, its knowledge lost, and its soul bound to the abomination.

The images send Izuku reeling to the ground, screaming in pain. He can feel each and every single death, can feel the horror of watching a universe's worth of knowledge destroyed in a single second. The terror and helplessness as the oldest and wisest of them was so violently taken. And the grief at all the young that died.

He screams taper to a stop. Taking a shuddering breath, Izuku checks his eyes. They don't feel burnt, so he opens them. It takes time for him to adjust to the dimness after seeing that radiance.

/Thief you are not though kin to the slave-king you are/ a tree slightly younger than Earth says. /We ask your forgiveness, Shadowshield/

Izuku struggles to his feet, wiping away the blood leaking from his ears. He inhales, smelling the unique scent of ashen time. "Another name?" he questions.

/It is your name/nature/truth/ the same tree says.

He rolls his ears, assuming they're referring to the many shields he used fighting the thread-creatures. Regardless that he's being willfully ignorant, Izuku remembers the last truth he was told. And he doesn't want to learn another.

"Fuck it, I don't really care anymore. Okay, so you attacked me because I'm human—"

/Because the skin you wear is human/ it says and Izuku knows there is truth to those words.

Do you understand now? The voice in his head asks. You're just a monster wearing human skin. It cackles and laughs and rants and raves.

Izuku shuts it away deeper in the recesses of his mind.

"And now you gave me another name. Look, I just came here because that fire's been calling me for the last few days and I'm tired of it."

/THE ETERNAL FLAME IS NOT YOURS/ the voices roar. The force of It knocks Izuku down again.

/We are guardians of the godflame/ the youngest elder tree says once Izuku can think again. /Your skin-morph will not be allowed to possess it/

"I just want to see it," Izuku says imploringly. He's being honest, too. Something that powerful terrifies him. And he knows, just knows that it can destroy worlds without thought.

/We will permit this/

Cautiously, Izuku walks forward, stepping around the spear-morph. The dark flames don't give off any heat but anything that so casually destroys gravity is deserving of respect. He looks into the cauldron at the dark flames.

Fire consumes his mind, eternal and infernal. This isn't simply a flame of impossible power. No, he knows its nature as burns the shackles of his mortal mind—and he takes pleasure in hearing the voice lurking in his head scream in true pain—and is amazed.

"Amaterasu," he calls it though that will never describe its nature. It is only a name he can comprehend.

This is the first flame, the one that birthed his universe and set entropy in motion. But it is also the last flame, the one that will cleanse the world. All legends and gods of fire are just stories told of humans who once glimpsed this magnificence.

It is the beginning and end, and all that came between. By its birth embers, the formless void of creation came to know life. By its warmth entropy, and thus both life and death came to be. By its final blaze, everything will die.

And when he truly understands, it pulls away and leaves his mind unharmed. Warm and brighter than the sun, yes, but unharmed none the less. He understands that it wanted to take his measure and it found him… not wanting, but too different to interest it.

Find my heart, it commands, a plea that writes itself in his bones and blood and mind.

Izuku nods for what else can he do in the face of this god.

He avoids the abyss for a few days after that. God flames aren't something he wants to deal with right now. Instead, he puts it to the back of his mind. He doesn't bury it for the knowledge won't break him like the rest of the things in his mind. It has the added bonus of burning the voice whenever it chose to rise to the surface.

So, as he talks to Shinsou Hitoshi about the intricacies of pleasing their cat overlords, he does so with a voice screaming in agony at the back of his mind. Maybe he should care because the screams make his nose bleed and plague his dreams and stop him sleeping, and he tastes crystal on his tongue and smells burning flesh. But all of that sounds like a lot of work and Izuku is infinitely more interested in reading his books and training with All Might and making breakfast for his mother.

Those things are simple.

Safe.

Sane.