38 The Past Will Haunt You

'Secondary mutations are still a subject of extreme debate in the scientific quirk community. A secondary mutation, by definition, requires that it not be connected to the original mutation or the quirk. Individuals who possess secondary mutations technically possess two or more quirks. The only guaranteed method of testing for secondary quirks is in space. The First Tanegashima Expedition members all showed rampant secondary mutations, as did all following manned space flight.'

—Excerpt from 'A Beginner Scientist's Guide to Quirk Theory.'

Inko Midoriya sits in her lounge watching the news. There's only one story on every station, the story of her son and the hero-killer. Every news outlet, every media feed, and every newspaper has her son featured in some ways.

The articles praising her son aren't important right now. No, she is more focused on his detractors. And there is one common thread amongst the more valid ones, that her son never actually disagreed with Stain. His methods, perhaps, but not the reasons for those methods.

Most of all, his final moments are plastered everywhere. Izuku Midoritya, carrying the body of the Hero-Killer, and shrouded in lightning. Her son asking Japan a simple question: what is a hero?

His response, however, is already causing division and turmoil. The battle lines amongst the pro-heroes. Mt. Lady and Best Jeanist have both released press statements criticising her son's words, though the latter is using the economic benefit of heroics and the generally improved livelihood of people in the last few decades. Which had worked until Edgeshot posted a long analysis on the downward trend of the economy in Shikoku and the rampant militarization present there.

There is no statement from UA. Even All Might is silent on the matter, but he was recently seen speaking to Edgeshot which is implication enough of his support.

"He's a difficult kid," Inko says fondly, rejecting the latest in a long line of interview offers.

She wonders if one day her son will ever stop worrying her, then realises that day will only come when he changes the world. That day will only come when he's finally made a world where people are kind and just and forgiving.

It's a foolish dream, one that won't ever be accomplished. And yet, the dream of peace when warlords and tyrants roamed had been called foolish. Then the New Age Heroes came, and that impossible dream became a reality.

"I agree," Hisashi says from the other side of the room, and strategically placed to flee out the door. "Always is. You want me to investigate this place?"

"Yes."

He raises his mug of coffee in acknowledgement. It is his second of the day, and he looks jittery and nervous from the caffeine. The only reason he drinks it is that it is Inko's beverage of choice.

"Can I ask why at least?"

"Because UA's been purposely manipulating us into using their services for Izuku."

He looks up from his phone, frowning severely.

"Wait, I thought you were using UA because you liked them?"

"You only speak like that when I've said something incredibly stupid and I am not in the mood."

"Sorry. It's just that… look, UA decides how the heroics industry appears in Japan, right? Seventy per cent of the top forty heroes at any given time are UA alumni. So, they wouldn't want anything tarnishing their reputation. Keeping medical services in-house is just one method of control."

She smiles because that's better than levelling their surroundings with her power. Her rage is sudden and hot, and maybe if she lets it explode outwards, she'll stop hearing a thousand spiders chittering in the back of her mind.

"You knew," she growls.

"I don't even know what we're talking about. I've been back for like three weeks. And we weren't talking for most of them."

That makes her calm down a bit. A tiny bit. Infinitesimally tiny.

"We're talking about our son's injuries. Like his burn scar. Or his limp."

Hisashi's expression is blank, not out of indifference. No, this is a cautious sort of blankness, the kinds he wears when he's terrified of bothering her.

"It's not like I know how he got them. Look at me. I got all of these walking the abyss."

A part of her always feels upset when she sees the scars on his face. Four long gouges starting from his temple and reaching down to his neck. She wonders how close he had come to death from that injury. That worry, like his face, is a mirror image of her son.

"And you never asked?"

"I can barely ask my son how his day was," Hisashi says softly. "I don't know him and he doesn't want to let me know him. The only reason you're talking to me is that you want something and that something isn't my company. How was I to know? I'm not going to violate his privacy like that when he barely trusts me. You told me to stay away and I did. Just like you asked."

"You left. You don't get to act like this isn't your fault."

"I know. But all I want is for you to stop being angry when I'm ignorant about something. I can't know these things if you never stop to let me know. I'm playing catch up for a decade of memories."

"You need to earn our trust. And you can start by telling me the truth. Why do you work with the Imperial family? Were you ever in risk management? Is your name even Hisashi Atakani?"

She glares at him, no matter that he's seen things far more terrifying than her. Hisashi is Hisashi, a fool, a powerful one, but one she knows. And he's always feared to lose her approval. Even now, that's still his greatest fear.

"You want me to lay bare my secrets. The things in my past I tried to keep away from you and Izuku." Hisashi closes his eyes and draws a deep breath. "I gave my soul to you and Izuku. The two of you were all I ever needed in life. You two let me be normal. I love you more than you can imagine."

She bares her teeth to hide the flare of emotion, the old thread of good memories that she holds dear. There are too many for her to lie that the memory of him isn't beautiful, even if the man she sits across is different. Violent. Dangerous. Cruel, even.

Nothing like the gentle and quiet man she married.

"Love without trust isn't really love."

"I trusted you with everything that was good and kind about me. I gave you the quiet man who loved his family, not the monster stained red." He chuckles bitterly. "I suppose it's finally come to this. I lived by the sword and now it's time to have my sins accounted."

"It has," she agrees and waits patiently.

Despite it all, he is still the man she married, quiet and haunted by the past. He carries the same grief and muted madness. He's as vulnerable as a mouse in a cat's claws, weak and terrified of greater monsters. Most of all, he just wants her approval and affection. Just like Izuku.

She blinks.

Oh fuck, I still love him.

"My name is Hisashi Atakani and I lived as normal a life I could with my parents," he begins, unaware of her turmoil. "They died when I was in university. A car accident. That was all true. I never discovered my quirk until I was in my thirties when I got stabbed. You were there beside me. Thank you for staying with me when the ambulances came. It would take weeks until I figured out why I was having nightmares of things I could barely describe.

"You see, my love, I could see… visions of the worlds I could one day walk. And as I experimented more with my power, the darker my flames became. And when they were closer to black, I stopped using them around you. I said I was afraid I could burn someone by accident. I just didn't understand what was happening. And when they were pitch black, I guess… maybe I just—quirks are instinctive, and I just reached so easily to the void. I burnt the barrier between the real and the abyss. It was just there, this impossible doorway to something horrifying. But also, something I couldn't look away from."

She swallows. "And you walked through."

He opens his eyes, so bright with knowledge and a hint of madness.

"No. I was stopped by a member of the Royal Guard. They were watching me ever since my quirk activated the first time. Just casual monitoring form low-level agents. But as it changed, as I touched the godflame more and more, the news reached the Royal Guard. They stopped me and explained what was happening. And that's how I learnt more about what was happening. They taught me about the abyss and its influence on the real world."

"And you started working for them?"

"Yes. A job here. A job there. And then I wanted to know for myself. I travelled the depths of the abyss. I learnt secrets, brokered a thousand deals, and spoke to gods. I walked so many miles to learn the true nature of things, of all the seasons under heaven and the fundamental laws of the void. I saw different realities. A lot of them were beautiful. I loved each world I could spy on where things were normal, where you and Izuku and Mikumo lived happily. But there were so few of them compared to the worlds consumed by dead gods and converted to infernal engines by endless legions of thralls. Touching the void is dangerous and the ramifications are extinction. This world had been lucky so far. Do you remember Shikoku?"

I remember you in white, silent and cold and indifferent to the suffering. I remember how weak I was to not ask.

She doesn't say any of that. It would be too confrontational and may very well cause him to flee in fear of her anger.

"Everyone remembers the Purge."

"It wasn't my warp quirk that day. They had another, a man named Goro Hanazuki but that's not important. When the imperial heir sunk Taiwan, he killed twenty million people. He sacrificed them over the coast of Shikoku. Unintentionally, he sacrificed them to a dead god and brought it to life just a tiny bit. The Purge wasn't an act of madness. It was the only way I could save Japan."

She stares at this man who so casually speaks of the deaths of millions. "You purged it? You killed them?"

"I organised it. The Emperor and his Guard." He raises one hand. Then, slowly, he raises the other. "The greatest villain of Japan. I brought them together to face the threat. I gave the villains reason to attack during the purge to distract the heroes and police. And whilst this happened the Royal Guard would cleanse every place the abyss had infected. I moved the Emperor and All For One like chess pieces. And when that was done, I sat them at a table to discuss peace. I gave them both what they wanted as an offering of goodwill.

"From then on I did jobs for them. I protected the imperial family and aided All For One's schemes. And I balanced them by the threat of siding with either. And all the while they worked together to stop any abyssal threats. That day when I left for Korea was just another job. Just one more thing to do to keep you and Izuku safe. To stop cultists from summoning memetic nightmares. It just all went wrong and I found myself lost in a different reality. That's my truth, Inko. I've done things that can't be forgiven and I'm not asking you to."

Her teeth are gritted so hard they feel like they will break. It would be so easy to summon her power and do… something. Her emotions are oscillating between hate and anger and grief and traitorous forgiveness.

Slowly, she masters those feelings.

"How many people have you killed?"

"Not as many as you think. I… I've manipulated things so people would die. But I've never taken an innocent life before. Only those who were tainted by the abyss and too far gone. And those who've threatened my family."

"You said they were monitoring you after your quirk activated. It wasn't because your quirk changed, was it? Are you—"

"You want to know if I'm related to the Royal Family. A lot of people want to know that." His smile is bitter. "And in this case, it doesn't matter and it never will."

"Why?" she asks, voice hard as tempered steel.

She won't let him side-step the issue.

The man she remembers dating was skittish and quiet and loving of life.

Her fiancé was awkward and magnificent in the depths of his love.

Her husband is scarred and haunted and only now does she know the reasons behind it.

"Anyone of Japanese blood can inherit the throne by technicality. It doesn't matter if they're part of the line of succession or not. But those who abdicate their right can never take it. People like me, and by extension Izuku, can't ever take it. For your protection, I brokered peace between two dangerous people but you were in the crossfire if anything went wrong. So, I worked another deal. Protection for you and later Izuku in exchange for losing my right to ever claim the throne. I could have been eighth in line for the throne but I never coveted it. I could have been a random nobody and I never looked to it as a goal. I never loved it as I love you."

He stands and crosses the distance between them. Then he kneels, maintaining eye contact at all times. It is an act of trust as she has always been able to tell the truth from his eyes. Right now, there is much love that it leaves her breathless for a moment.

"I knelt to the Emperor for your sake. I sold myself to a throne I hold no allegiance to keep you safe. Giving up the chance to sit in an uncomfortable chair for the guarantee that people I loved more than life itself would be safe was never a hard choice. You know the truth. What will you do now?"

The oddest thing is that she understands. She's seen the things that have clung to Izuku each time he has returned from exploring the abyss. She knows there's something wrong with her mind and that her powers have changed greatly because of it.

Sometimes, it feels like something is stuck in her throat and when she coughs it out, she finds crystal spiders skittering on the sink basin. And they all beg for a chance to arbitrate peace amongst shadow and spider.

"You'll protect Izuku?"

He smiles. "I would die for him." He says it as though it's the most obvious thing in the world, as obvious the runes of dead gods she sees in her visions and the chittering of endless spiders she hears.

"Then investigate that place. He wants to be a hero but I don't think this world will let him. If UA is a threat to him, if Nezu has his own plans, then we're going to dismantle everything he's ever created. We're going to do it legally. We're going to start by destroying their reputation."

"You've become vicious." But his smile is sharp. "If this is what you want to do, it'll take some time. And Izuku might hate us for this."

"I'd rather he knows the truth then live blissfully in ignorance. He can't stay naïve forever."

"Nezu isn't evil. Neither is UA. They're a net positive influence on Japan. I hope you know that."

"I do. I just don't care anymore."

In the back of her mind, she hears the chittering of a thousand spiders.

-TDB-

Fumikage Tokoyami has his phone in hand, watching the video feed from another angle. The table by the corner makes for a comfortable enough perch.

This may be the dozenth time he's seen the video, but he can't look away. Izuku Midoriya, his friend and peer, standing against the hero-killer. And not simply that but winning as well.

Yes, he has Shouto with him—when did I start calling him Shouto?—to help in the video, but Shouto isn't the one who tore down Stain's ideals. No, that honour belongs to Izuku.

Fumikage is equal parts proud and horrified. Not least because of how every news outlet is reporting the story. His news feed is filled with questions on Midoriya—and every third one asking about him references the Battle Trial to some extent, the worst which hold All Might, and surprisingly enough, Fumikage, responsible for Izuku's scars; not untrue but he has no idea how they got that information—and his inbox flooded with requests from reporters wanting an exclusive interview.

Simpering peasants wishing to speak to their prince. Pathetic.

Eventually, after the dozenth notification, he simply sets his email address to reject all new mail for the next few days. If there's something from school, he can log onto the school website and check there.

"He's a fool."

"He's charismatic," Maya corrects, walking over with a case in hand. "Smart like his father but with a will to match. He'll go far with that. Any place can be paradise. I suppose we need people like that to make changes to places like Hokkaido. Let him stand in the light whilst we battle in the darkness."

"You don't find his words upsetting?"

"I could care less about the heroics industry. If he wants to change it then he can go right ahead. And if you want to support him, we'll help you."

He cocks his head. "Why?"

"We support each other. Simple as that. We try to avoid stupid in-fighting. Now get off."

He rolls to the side, annoyed. She pauses at the sight of his tablet. For a moment, he worries he opened something he doesn't want anyone ever seeing.

"Are you actually reading the news?" she asks, incredulously. "Public news?"

"Yes?"

"Oh, you young fool. Those outlets are useless. They aren't talking about what's going on with the underground heroes and vigilantes. They aren't ever going to touch on the unaffiliated quirk users."

He frowns, taking back his tablet. "What makes any of them important?"

"Nothing. That's what makes them dangerous. They're not part of any accords like we are. They don't have a seat at the table like UA and the JSDF. That's why we monitor them. They don't have to follow the same rules. And right now, all their chatter is about your classmate and Stain."

"And what are they saying?"

"They're watching him, for now. Someone called Crawler keeps mentioning his name. We don't know his motives right now."

"But you are monitoring him?"

"Just send a message to someone in information to keep you updated."

He nods as if that means anything. "Sure."

"Here," Maya says, sliding a case towards him.

He's seen it before a few times, the sort you use to carry a costume. The first, and only, he had received had been from UA. It opens to his fingerprint and iris scan, hissing as the lid rises slowly.

Inside is a cloak just like the one he wears made from the same light absorbent material. He picks it up and unfurls it.

And then he sees the white. Where the outside had been purely black, the inside is a semi-reflective expanse of white. The same shade of white that Maya wears.

"No," he says on principle. "I will not be branded by you."

"We fight the same war. Besides, it has utility." She reaches in and removes a clear canister. Within are white pellets. "These make a large burst of light when destroyed. There's a tiny shard of trapped hardlight in them. It's a protection against Dark Shadow. I saw how you failed to control him at sea."

Shame fills him. Two dead, and whether they were too far gone or not is irrelevant as they were torn apart when he failed to control the demon. That burden and the consequence from it is one he must bear alone.

Such as Asui's dismissal of any friendship they held before. That is one that leaves him filled with anger, so much that he needs to meditate more often or he's prone to break something.

Maybe the nightmares of Dark Shadow rampaging without restraint and his dragon setting cities on fire at his command that cause his frustration. They share space with dreams of that boy on the altar, a sacrifice to madness and power. Either way, he hasn't slept well since before the internship.

Maya takes the cloak and holds a pellet. She crushes it slowly.

Blinding light fills the room and sears his eyes, leaving him blind. Fumikage groans, clutching his eyes in pain.

"Why would you do that?" he roars, still blinded.

She catches him before he can fall. Everywhere she touches is a line of heat, and if he wasn't blind it would send shivers down his spine.

"I'm always manipulating you. But I do so with earnestness and sincerity." She says this gently. "Why am I ruthless?"

"Because you're efficient." He blinks. The world is still blurry but not the overwhelming white of before.

"I want you to wear my colours. You're my Special Asset. My Inquisitor. I'll dress you in obsidian and pearl, pretty boy."

He steps away before he can get another whiff of her natural scent. It's already filling his nose and he wants to clear it.

"Vile wench. Stay away from me. I will not be corrupted by your influences."

She laughs. "I'm not the one making you feel that way. Besides, I'm willing to do many things but minors aren't included. Come find in five years when you've lost the baby fat."

She's got you there. And don't you ever dare use those things on me.

He blinks the last of the spots away, glad he can't show a blush with the feathers.

"I have no baby fat," he snaps instead.

Her shoulders shake with laughter, dark hair sweeping across her face. "I'll stop teasing you."

"Thank you."

"Anyway, the inside of the cloak reflects the light better. They won't be anywhere near as bright by themselves. But, for when you want to let Dark Shadow work his—it, she, whatever gender—magic, we've got these beauties."

She removes another canister, this one filled with black pellets. She holds one of the pellets then flicks it to the side. It hits the wall. A dark gas comes to life at the impact point, perhaps large enough to conceal two people side by side.

"Standard smoke pellet with an internal trigger mechanism. The gas is laced with the same light absorbent material as your cloak."

Fumikage, I think I'm in love.

Shut it.

Inside are a pair of goggles, the glass tinted the same odd purple-black of Dark Shadow. He wears them and looks to Maya.

Who happens to be holding another white pellet.

"No!"

He sees her smile just before crushing the pellet. The flash of light is bright, yes, but no blinding. He may not be able to make out her details at its brightest point, but he can still see afterwards.

"Highly advanced light-filtering technology in those. No point in blinding yourself as well."

He nods. "I take it they enhance low light vision?"

"Yup. Lastly, armoured vest and trousers. Light enough they won't impede your movement. Though given that you're a long-range fighter I'd rather have you armoured head to toe."

The vest is surprisingly light despite having thin plates of dark armour running sideways on its front and back. The trousers are the same and provide protection to his thighs.

He removes his current cloak which leaves him in his long-sleeved shirt. This one regulates his temperature against the cold. He's learnt since USJ not to assume the weather will be perfect all the time.

The vest fits him well but there's no way in hell he's wearing those trousers with her still in the room. He stares at her until she gets the message and turns with a sigh.

He shrugs the trousers on quickly, glad they aren't tight by any measure. They're surprisingly stretchy. There is a belt inside and he wears it. On either side are three pouches, each with odd grooves; the ones to his left white and those on the right black.

"You done?" Maya asks, turning without waiting for his response. "Oh, you found the belt. You see how those grooves are curved. Put your fingers in them."

He does so, finding they fit so well he must wonder exactly how they have his measurements down to the millimetre.

"Now drag your fingers up."

The shape of the grooves forces his fingers close. Right at the end, there is a moment of tension, and then he finds himself in possession of three white pellets trapped between his fingers.

"Huh," he says.

He flings the pellets to the far wall. Two fly true whilst one veers off greatly.

The flash is bright, and without his goggles darkening, he likely wouldn't be able to see for the next five minutes.

"You named yourself Tsukiyomi, god of the moon. The light in the dark. You're the middle ground between extremes. And now you look it."

She's right. With his cloak fully closed, he doesn't look changed from his previous costume. But when he opens it, the white shines through, brightening the surrounding area.

He frowns and inspects the way the cloak is latched to the vest right beneath his throat. He removes one of the two latches and flips the cloak around to expose the white side. He latches it closed once again. As he suspects, it is noticeably brighter around him in a radius of five metres.

"Who designed this?"

"Remember the idiot from the office?"

"The things you learn."

She laughs beautifully. "Yeah. He wanted to add obsidian knives but I thought that might be excessive."

He glares at her. "Under what circumstances do you consider knives excessive? Or swords? Any bladed instrument really."

"Oh, you're such a teenager. Let's finish this last job and get you home."

"The knives are still an option, right?"

"Let's just get this over with."

An hour later, Fumikage and Maya observe an illegal deal from their balcony perch. There are two vans out in the open, shielded from sight by the tree cover to the west—or maybe south, he's not sure. The people wear suits but he can make out guns on some of them.

Two though, simply talk slightly away from their guards. They are arms dealers, and they specialise in the equipment Maya is dedicated to hunting down.

"Where did you get this information from?"

"Giran."

"I need to know. Is he a villain?"

One of the dealers is invited to look at something in the boot of the SUV. He says something and the other dealer laughs. They seem amicable given that their guards look ready to shoot each other.

Maya hums. "I suppose you could say that. He certainly doesn't work for your side of the law and sells information to the highest bidder. Admittedly, he does have a fondness for the League."

"Then I've worked with a villain. It starts off easy, does it not? Let a few die to save a thousand. Let a villain walk free so you know about the few you'll let die. How long before I'm supporting a dictator?"

"Stop being so cynical, little crow. Giran's an information broker and a middleman. He has utility and his own form of honour. He honours his deals with everyone and picks no sides, providing a neutral ground for anyone to make deals. We use him. The League of Villains uses him. A lot of underground heroes use him as well. Taiwan and China and Australia use him. He never sells information on clients unless they give him permission. Everyone trusts him simply because he can burn us all with everything he knows."

He frowns. "You said all the information he got from me was free. Why?"

"To protect you. Things are coming to a head soon. The villains are moving —they're seizing Yakuza assets up and preparing for something—and UA is preparing in the background The Heroics Industry and the government are sitting with their thumbs up each other's asses after their raids on the League." He frowns at the imagery. "And the three of you exist. Letting everyone important know you're with a Royal Guard protects you. Because no one wants to face my wrath, let alone all the power I can bring to bear."

"Keep the assets like Giran and me. Ignore the non-entities. And neutralise threats. Is it really that simple?"

"Yes. Just like the threats you're going to deal with. "

A guard brings forward a briefcase to the dealers. He opens it and shows the stacks of what may be either silver or platinum to the other dealer.

Maya taps him on the shoulder. He nods and steadies his breathing.

He swipes his fingers through the grooves on the left side and comes away with three white pellets. He flicks them forward.

The goons don't have a moment to react before the bright light blinds them. Dark Shadow, he commands and the demon materialises.

It grips the edge of the building, and like a catapult, it sends Fumikage flying. He removes a handful of the black pellets and throws them down in the middle of the group.

Dark smoke fills the area. Fumikage lands in the middle of the smoke, his knees screaming in pain, but he forces that feeling down.

It isn't like true night in the cloud, closer to dusk than anything else. It still empowers Dark Shadow. The demon lashes out without hesitation, revelling in its power when it should be weakest. Bullets are fired, but the demon flings goons aside with impunity.

Fumikage isn't foolish enough to stay in the same spot. He weaves through the darkness and finds a goon. He isn't specialised in close combat, but against an opponent that's disorientated, it's easy enough to sweep his legs out and punch him in the throat.

The crack of a bullet makes him duck. The bullet hole is a few feet away but Fumikage scrambles back as more cracks fill the air. He rolls under the SUV just as a bullet nearly hit him right in the arm.

He rolls to the other side away from the source of the bullets. And comes face to face with someone holding a long knife. Or rather, his beak comes uncomfortably close to the pointy end of the knife.

Note to self, get a knife.

Dark Shadow slams into the man before he can slice Fumikage. The demon feels jubilant in its strength. Fumikage jabs his thumb to the side where the bullets came from.

Dark Shadow rushes over. Fumikage waits until he hears a scream and a crunch before standing.

Only a minute has passed and his opponents are defeated. Two weeks ago, he would have struggled greatly to beat more than two.

You would have rushed in like an idiot. Also, let me catch you before you hit the ground like an idiot.

"Note to self, don't land like an idiot ever again," he says, humouring the demon.

He ambles over to the boot. In the centre is a metal case, locked seven ways to Sunday by biometric encryption.

He extends his hand; Dark Shadow's claw materialises around it. He tests the weight of it, watching how the darkness mirrors his actions. It's a small thing, but the level of symbiosis between them is higher now than ever before.

One day, when you trust me fully, my darkness will be your armour, my talons your blades, and Watatsumi's wings your wings. One day you will look like a king.

Perhaps one day, he agrees. But not today.

He feels a thrum of displeasure from his oldest companion but chooses to ignore it.

He places his hand over the edge of the case. Then he curls his fingers. The claws follow the motion and tear through the layers of metal like paper. He drags his hand across the case until its contents are laid bare.

Inside is an egg.

He calls it an egg because that is the closest term he has to describe the object. The shell is made of glass unshattering, the outermost layer is shattered glass of fractal patterns but the deeper layers, the ones closest to the core are untarnished glass.

He doesn't bother with the fact that the glass looks like clear steel and each shard seems to hold another egg trapped in a mirror dimension. He's come to expect these things.

A flash of light heralds Maya. She looks at the egg in the case.

"Keep it," she says after a moment.

"I don't think I can."

"Why not? Disparity and life are your domain, right? She grabs one of the briefcases with the metals and opens it. "Platinum. Well, this is yours now. Would you like it in cash or just like this?"

Fumikage blinks. "I like how you think I have any idea what to do with that much money."

She shrugs. "Buy some games. Go on holiday. Do something with it."

"And how do I explain that to my parents?"

"Not my business. Though, if you want a sword…"

He blinks and considers how awesome a sword would be. "Is this love?"

She laughs. "Boys. You only want one thing. Anything the looks cool and causes destruction."

He holds the strange egg. The edges, despite being sharp enough to cut molecules, do not harm him. Perhaps they never can.

A chain of pure black rises from his hands and wraps around the egg. The chains drag it down to the darkness of his soul.

He shudders, feeling the way the egg adds weight to his soul. It isn't one egg as he suspected, but thousands sharing the same metaphysical space.

Oh. That's interesting.

What is?

You know how I call you prince of crows. Well, you may just have adopted a flock of crows.

He laughs at the absurdity of it all. Maya watches him patiently.

"I think I want that sword."

She rolls her eyes.

-TDB-

Shouto Todoroki sits in a hospital room, watching the outside world and valiantly ignoring the glaring contest between Iida and Izuku. Not that it's much of a contest when Izuku's eyes look like green bolts of lightning, mystifying and uniquely dark. Iida, at the very least, is stubborn enough, and perhaps acclimated to the weirdness that is Izuku, to match that glare.

He knows how hypocritical that is when his right is all kinds of fucked up. He can make out the shapes of the people congregated on the grass outside, but it lacks the sharp outline his normal left eye can see. At the very least, he can see the networks of energy that make up a person, the most orderly structure of godflame made manifest in neurons and obedience to laws of electromagnetism and gravity and all the other laws of this universe.

Still, normal colours are losing all vibrancy in his right eye. Maybe a few weeks from now, or perhaps a few years if he is lucky, and Shouto will only be able to see the unseen: the glimpses of other worlds and layers of the abyss; the magnificent potential of the human and the immaterial links between person and quirk and the world around them.

It will be a different kind of sight, but no less valid.

Izuku gets up, drawing Shouto's attention. His friend is bandaged where he took a blade to the shoulder for Iida and has a small cut on his brow. They should both heal perfectly well, especially once Shouto gets an opportunity to corner Izuku.

"He's not angry with you," Shouto says after Izuku has left the room to use the toilet.

"I'm sorry, but he punched me in the face."

"He… developed a habit of doing that. And besides, I healed that. He's just worried and annoyed and doesn't know how to process it. We're usually worried about him, not the other way around."

"He kicked me in the fight."

"Do you want the honest truth?" Iida nods. "Well, that's because they were having a conversation and you kept on interrupting."

Iida glares. "A conversation with the hero-killer. That's why he's angry at me?"

"Look, Iida, you would have died alone. You just don't have the same experience we do. Izuku could have beaten Stain alone, but he was busy making sure you didn't get killed. You're just not at that level. All you were doing was interrupting their conversation."

"I'm not weak."

"I never said you were. But Izuku spent the last three weeks fighting for twelve hours a day against a pro-hero. And Endeavour's raised me to be a fighter. It's just a matter of experience. They weren't fighting to see who was stronger, they were fighting to see who was in the right."

"And what was the answer to that?" Iida spits out.

"That they were both right, even if they didn't agree with each other's methods."

The silence that falls between them is heavy and awkward. Shouto doesn't particularly care to continue the conversation. Especially not when Izuku returns and the mood darkens further.

They stay like that until another person walks in. Shouto blinks at the mutant with a dog's head and errantly wonders if he loathes cats or is sensible and likes them. The others are Iida and Izuku's respective mentors.

Endeavour not being here is nothing surprising. He likely fully expects Shouto to talk his way out of this as another lesson.

Thankfully, Izuku seems more than willing to do all the talking for them. He lets his friend argue with the three people and pays attention to the reporters outside.

"Everything you said is on national television," he hears when the chief-of-police raises his voice. "All three of you have blatantly broken rules and regulations.

"I have a combat authorisation," Izuku says defiantly. "Limited to that one night. I haven't committed a single crime. I know quirk laws like I know my scars."

"His authorisation was approved through the proper channels," Izuku's mentor says.

"And you," the man says, rounding on Iida, "were trying to kill him. You acted outside the bounds of any authority you might have had."

"Then maybe Stain was right," Izuku says spitefully, which doesn't shock Shouto.

It doesn't make much sense to Shouto. His only reason for wanting to be a hero was out of hate and spite for his father. And without that, he doesn't really have any reason to care. As it is, being a hero is just a fun diversion and an excuse to spend time with Izuku and Iida and Fumikage.

Shouto hasn't paid much attention to the conversation with the mongrel. He's more than indifferent to such nonsense at this stage. It's some petty accusation that Shouto would normally ignore. Except, Izuku looks upset and angry.

And that's just not happening.

"You're just proving Stain right," Shouto says softly. "You care more about regulations than you do about heroes saving people."

"You're unlicensed children who tried to kill—"

"Correction, we're unlicensed children that did what pro heroes failed to do." The room is dead silent. "Hosu was on fire. There was nowhere we could go. Stain wanted us dead in the first place. Both of us were going back to meet up with our mentors when he attacked us."

"That's not how these things work. You said it yourself."

Shouto scoffs. "Did you want us to lie down and die whilst we waited for some paperwork?"

"The laws are intended to keep you safe. To keep people from taking justice into their hands. Because if we let that happen, then we get kids trying to kill people."

Shouto raises a single brow, imperious and contemptuous. Mostly, it's to give him time to see past the real world and witness the fight again.

"Technically, no one said anything about killing Stain. Go over the footage as many times as you want. Everything we did was self-defence, and no matter how you feel about it you can't prove it."

"The police department will still seek out full compliance in the law with UA and the hero agencies you were working with."

"We did nothing wrong. We have logs spending time with each other after a workday. We both had authorisation from our mentors to do so. It's not our fault nothing was done about the hero-killer by proper authorities or that Hosu started burning on our way back."

The chief-of-police glares at him. Then he sighs, all the formal bluster disappearing.

"Look, kid, let me level with you right now. Personally, I think you guys did a good job. But the law is the law. Had this been private, I would have had it swept under the rug. As it is, there's a picket fence of reporters trying to get access to you."

That explains why they're there.

"Then tell the truth," Izuku says. "Come clean with it all. I had a combat authorisation. They were just going home when they were cornered. There was nowhere to run so we just did what we had to."

"And that included criticising the entirety of the hero association and agreeing with a serial killer?"

Izuku twitches. "I agreed we needed reform. I never agreed with killing people or eliminating heroics. And there's nothing illegal about that."

"Stain's ideas were dangerous. People are going to twist your battle for their own dangerous ends. What is the reform you're talking about? Something as broad as that is something villains can use."

Izuku snarls. "Don't you dare."

The chief shrugs. "No one will care what you meant. All they'll care about is the loudest story. You think people will pay attention? No, they're just going to watch some analysis of your fight to support whatever political belief they hold."

Someone bursts into the room, frazzled and dripping sweat. The officer looks terrified but still manages a salute.

The chief looks to the lower ranked office. "What?"

The officer points at Izuku. "Chief, his parents are here."

"And?"

"Sir, you might want to see this yourself."

"Stay here," the chief says, glaring at the three of them. "I'll be back. Mizushima, Sorahiko, with me."

Just like that, the three of them are left alone. Shouto returns to his bed, leaning his back against the wall as Izuku and Iida resume their staring competition.

"Maybe Stain was right?" Iida spits out. "What's wrong with you?"

"I am trying to get you out of this without being expelled or sent to prison," Izuku hisses back. "Don't act like a petulant child."

Iida crosses his arms. "Coming from a broken child like you?"

The moment he says that, Shouto is ready to teleport Iida out of the room. Because the shadows instantly darken, anathema monsters threatening to rise up and consume everything. It takes more effort than he'd like suppressing Izuku's powers and shielding Iida.

Worst of all is that songthatwillendlife that he can barely hear, a whisper from something so unnatural and immense that it makes Shouto sick. It is from the depths of the darkest and cruellest parts of the abyss, a place that the godflame's heat doesn't reach.

Izuku shoots Shouto a dirty look, before returning his glare to Iida. "Fuck off."

"Why is your dad being here important?" Iida asks blithely, ignorant of how close he was to dying.

Rationally, he knows Izuku wouldn't willingly hurt Iida. Rationally, he also knows that Izuku only wears the skin of a human. Beneath that cracking veneer of civility is a wealth of power the matches Shouto but is fundamentally opposed to him.

Izuku, thankfully, doesn't glare or blow up. "He may or may not be vaguely affiliated with important people and why the hell am I answering anything. I'm still pissed off with you. You know what, I'm getting lunch because I might just punch you if I don't."

Shouto shrugs and follows behind after a few minutes, following the trail of dark smoke and green sparks that only he can see. A part of him instinctively doesn't like the darkness but it is easily smothered by the affection he has for Izuku.

His classmate is in a small cafeteria, hunched over a meal. Shouto approaches slowly, making enough noise not to startle Izuku. He doesn't want to be stabbed.

Shouto lays his hands on Izuku's shoulders, sliced up by the Nomu. A sheen of frost spreads down it. Such is the trust between them that Izuku doesn't even look up from his third plate of food. With a mental twist, the entropic properties of his ice reverse, and time flows in reverse to a point when Izuku's shoulder wasn't injured.

"You gonna do the same for Iida?"

Shouto considers it for a moment, unsure of why Izuku asks it like that. Like it's a test of some sort.

"He's a… friend? You don't want me to?"

"How did you even—no, too tired to care. Just help him. Probably won't even understand how lucky he is to have a -get-out-of-permanent-injury-free card lying around."

Shouto shrugs and heats Izuku's frosted side enough for the frost to melt, but not enough for it to evaporate. He can tell the water is close to freezing.

Izuku yelps in annoyance, wiping away the liquid.

"I hate you," Izuku says, a small smile gracing his features. "And your jokes suck."

"I know."

He wonders if there will come a day when he isn't surprised by how much joy Izuku finds in simply being with people, no matter their flaws, or the depths of his forgiveness. Perhaps one day when he's old and grey, but not now.

"If there was a hard choice to be made, you know I'd make it for you so you don't have to?"

Izuku pokes him in the chest, finger bright with One For All. It hurts and will likely bruise, but Shouto can deal with such things easily.

"That's the problem. You're not supposed to be fine with making choices like that." Izuku rubs his eyes in frustration. "I get it. You lost a lot with the godflame. You wanted to be moral and good and a hero because you hated Endeavour. You wanted to be a decent person because the person you loved most betrayed you, and you don't want to continue that cycle. I get that you lost you reasons for doing that, I get that you're relearning it all. But I'm not going to let you make those choices."

Shouto wonders how likely that is.

Sitting upon a throne of crystal madness and darkness from the far reaches of the abyss, in a place where time and space and order have no meaning, Izuku-the-shadowking surveys the endless tribute of fell gods. Izuku-the-shadowking makes endless universes of true darkness, imposing anathema laws unto the fundament of reality.

This ancient God wearing a walking corpse thinks his ideal world can be won with peace and kind words. Maybe that's why Izuku acts weak, as though he isn't a god. That lie he constantly tells himself.

Shouto lets his sight slip into realms unseen, surveying an infinite number of futures. It's impossible to see Izuku—or Fumikage, for that matter—but he can see the patterns of those around them. He can see the likes of Kirishima or Asui or Ojiro.

I'm so sorry.

"For your sake, I hope we don't have to," he says instead because the future can still be changed. They aren't bound by fate and never will be. They're the ones who decide the future.

He takes a seat opposite Izuku and steals an apple from his plate. It doesn't taste of anything special. There is no special crunch or a perfect combination of tartness. No, it's just an apple he won't remember eating in an hour.

Just like every other meal he's had, it means nothing. It makes him yearn to walk the abyss and find a crystal heart to eat. Because this does nothing for him.

"I want to save people. And that doesn't mean killing people first."

Shouto leans back slightly. "Sometimes I see things and they aren't pretty. I saw how Stain killed those people and there was nothing good in it."

"Then let's make a deal: you tell me what you see, and I'll tell you if we should do it your way."

"I can live with that compromise. What happens now?"

"Probably my dad just speeding things up a bit."

"I know that. I meant with Iida."

"Oh, I… I'm not sure."

"You'll forgive him after a night's sleep."

Shouto startles, staring at the space right above Izuku's shoulder. "Is that your dead twin brother talking to you?"

"Unfortunately," Izuku says bitterly. "And no, I don't want to talk about Mikumo."

Shouto nods slowly, but even then, he can't help but stare at the person who looks like Izuku but with dark eyes and long dark hair. And Mikumo is staring right back at him.

The apparition raises a hand. And then, excruciatingly slowly, he lifts his middle finger.

"Your twin is a little shit."

"I said we're not talking about him."

The police chief shows up whilst they're in the middle of a game of blackjack, the pack pulled from Izuku's shadow. Izuku is winning. There was never a chance in hell Shouto could. But, it's a fun enough way to pass the time.

"You're cleared to go," the Chief says, disgruntled.

Izuku frowns. "I'm sorry about my dad."

"Just get out of my sight already. I can't get angry with kids because of their parents."

He can't help the slight laugh that escapes his lips. No matter what, Izuku always causes trouble. He receives an elbow to the side before Izuku pulls him along.

A few minutes later, when they're both lost and somehow in a supply closet, he regrets his decision to follow Izuku. There is little space between them and the closet is dark. Even then, he knows every shade of green in Izuku's bright eyes and could paint a picture of his scars without sight. Maybe his favourite is the starbust on Izuku's lower torso from their clash during the Sports Festival. Perhaps it is the scar from cauterising an infection Izuku picked up during the abyss or maybe it's the burn scars that have come to define him so much.

Here, where no one can see them, Shouto grabs Izuku by the shoulders and shoves him violently against the wall. The act is abrupt and sudden, no indication given of his sudden mood shift.

"Shouto," Izuku says gently, a soft warning of green lightning. There is nothing friendly or kind in that voice, just a promise of violence.

In the darkness, he can feel the presence of the dead gods dreaming within Izuku. They are old and ancient gods of desolation, beings that existed before light and time were even ideas. But, no matter how powerful they are, this Earth is still his domain.

Fire consumes their presence, their future intent on this plane of reality. Infernal fire dances with true dark, two ancient forces that, if truly allowed to fight, would end all life in the universe from the aftershocks of the clash.

He doesn't look down to the long blade of shadows pressing against the artery in his thigh. Fair, given that he's pressed a long shard of ice against Izuku's kidney. Whatever kindness and compassion exists within their friendship is built on a foundation of conflict and death and choking hate.

"Some days, I see you and I just see everything I suffered through."

"I know," Izuku says gently, his breath tickling Shouto's ear.

It sends a shiver down his spine, a prickling sensation he loathes. It makes him feel weak and vulnerable, a teenage boy and not a living god, someone terrible at making friends and not a being who decides the laws of the universe. Every day, he teeters between the two: the being of infernal fire and the boy who wants to leave his father's shadow. He wonders what will happen if he fully embraces one side.

"I hate you more than anyone else alive," Shouto says coldly. "I killed my mother and sister because of you. I trusted you and you broke that trust. Every day, I wake up and I want to kill you. I want to burn away every trace of your existence."

"I know. I feel the same way."

And then Shouto smiles. It is awkward and feels uncomfortable. It might very well be hideous for all he knows.

"You're still my closest friend."

Izuku smiles back, all crystal madness and compassion. His grin is as natural as gravity, a fundamental force that draws everyone towards him. No one can resist that smile. Izuku's grin is as sincere as he is, and that sincerity is as sure as the inevitability of death. Nothing can stop it and it will always find you.

"I know."

Gently, he lays his forehead against Izuku's.

He stares at those green eyes, so much like lightning, and wonders what Izuku sees in his eyes. Does he see someone scarred by a mother's betrayal and broken by a father's cruel love? Does he see the screaming boy forced to suffer for months in the abyss, fighting and killing ceaselessly? Who does Izuku see when even Shouto himself doesn't know who he is?

Slowly, with a grace that will always surprise him, Izuku raises his hands. His fingers have been scarred by his quirk and his ceaseless training, yet, he moves as though Shouto is delicate. As though Shouto is a fragile statue, Izuku touches his face.

He bites the inside of his cheeks to stay calm, to keep from moving and exposing himself. Izuku taps a pattern on Shouto's skin with his finger, one side unbearably warm and the other almost frigdi. It means nothing but perhaps, because of that, it means so much more.

Cautiously, deliberately, Izuku says three words with all the care in the world.

"I see you."

Those words are said softly but with so much force in them, as though he is willing Shouto to see the same things with only his words.

That just makes him angry. He has no right, absolutely none, to find faith in Shouto. No one should have that kind of boundless compassion and he knows Izuku doesn't, knows it from every fight and cruel argument and promise of death.

"It's not fair," Shouto snarls, dark flames surrounding him. And yet, they don't harm Izuku. "Why can't I just hate you? Why can't you just be my enemy? Why does this have to be complicated?"

Through it all, through every drop of blood spilt between them, something formless will always bind them together. Billions of years from now at the heat death of the universe, Shouto will be able to find Izuku, drawn to him forever and ever.

Formless darkness rises from Izuku's skin. It is chilly as the void, alien and abominable. It won't harm him and perhaps never will.

He watches as a strand of darkness meets his infernal flames. The two powers slip and slide against each other, a momentary interaction that is infinitely long, neither gaining dominance over the other. This is the nature of the universe, light and dark, void and fire, enslaved to their base desires.

"Love and hate are two sides of the same coin," Izuku says. "I love my friends and I'm willing to die for them. I'd rip off my arm and shred my heart if it meant keeping them safe. There's nothing I wouldn't do for them. For Fumikage. For you. But you're the one I want to kill the most."

Shouto forces a smirk to regain even the barest hints of confidence and control. "Eternity would be boring if we didn't fight."

Izuku's grin softens and becomes a gentle smile. "Yeah."

Here they are, two scared kids with the power to end the world, lost in a closet. The passage of time doesn't matter right now. Nothing does, except the space between them and the rhythm of their powers, opposite and alien, yet dancing to the tune of their heartbeats.

A blink and eternity would pass by, and they'd still be here, bound and chained to each other. Loyalty borne of blood and hatred forged through compassion keeping them here with each other. He wants to see Izuku burning on an altar of Shouto's hate and knows Izuku wants to see Shouto drowning in darkness. It would be so easy to take that step, to let everything between them turn to endless hate and rage.

But right now, with no space separating them, he doesn't want to do that.

The door opens, harsh light filling the room. Instantly, their powers vanish and they're scrambling away from each other. His leg catches on something, and then he's falling to the ground, dragging Izuku with him.

He groans in frustration, shoving Izuku off him. His classmate yelps as Shouto finally gets a good look at the old man watching them from the doorway.

"Kids these days," Gran Torino mutters. "I'm too old for this shit."

"Wait!"

Gran Torino throws his hands up. "Not my business."

"I hate my life," Izuku says after the old man is gone. "He's going to tell Toshi and Toshi's going to tell Jin who's going to tell Ojiro who'll tell Shinsou and then Ochako's going to know. Fuck."

Shouto rolls his eyes, standing. He extends his hand to Izuku who takes it. He pulls Izuku along as they follow Gran Torino's trail, knowing he'll get lost without someone to drag him there.

Waiting in the private parking lot are Izuku's parents are waiting for him. Shouto waves at his friend as he gives his mother a hug.

Shouto makes the mistake of looking at Izuku's father.

The man is watching Shouto. No, not Izuku's father in the real world—who is still focused on his wife, joyful in a way so reminiscent of Izuku that it floors him—but the infernal machine residing in his soul. The immaterial machine watches Shouto, and he knows it is devising a dozen different ways to possibly kill him should he prove himself a threat.

This one greets you, one-eye-king, the things says finally, its voice that of a thousand worlds in his bones. May you find love and hate once more.

And even when Izuku's father turns away with his wife and son, Shouto can still feel the machine watching him, cataloguing his weaknesses and making a dozen plans to kill him. It won't make the first move, despite how much Shouto wants it to. Izuku's father looks like a fun challenge.

Shouto smirks.