25 The Weight of Living

'The disparity between those with quirks and those without will always be a cause of friction and tension. With power comes inequality, and quirks are another form of power. The ebb and tide as power exchanges hands will inevitably lead to conflicts. Look to Vancouver Island whose system of heroics we adopted without thought. They suffered, and still do suffer from insurgencies and protests. Japan has yet to face the same issue due to the unifying presence of the Emperor and the overwhelming power of hero agencies. Yet, for all their strength, they do not fairly treat the people of Hokkaido who have the highest percentage of quirk related mental illnesses. The Imperial family is permitted to act freely and never steps in to eliminate the threat of villainy. Inevitably, these tensions will reach a boiling point and a new wave of anti-quirk riots will erupt.'

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

Izuku keeps his grip on Todoroki firm as he can with just his arms. His limp legs are hoisted between Todoroki's arms and sides as the boy trudges across a desert of green sand.

They say no words as Todoroki carries him, stopping occasionally when they find caves with crystal spires emitting the light of reverse entropy. They stop only long enough for Todoroki's body to be rejuvenated—truthfully, the light of the crystals changes the direction of the arrow of time for a few hours; too short for Izuku to heal his spine—and for Izuku to reapply the shadowed veil over Todoroki's eyes.

Without the veil, Todoroki is exposed to the full horrors of the abyss. With his powers misbehaving ever since his spine was severed, and he believes the red orb at its base to be damaged as well, Izuku is deadweight.

He is also Todoroki's only hope of surviving the infinite wastelands.

Todoroki kneels and lets Izuku slide partially off his back. He uses one forearm to stabilise himself in the awkward position, his other arm tight around Todoroki's neck.

Todoroki forms shards of ice and hands them to Izuku who bites through them easily, swallowing them as the only form of water they have available. Todoroki does the same though Izuku notices he takes a few minutes longer than usual before picking Izuku up again.

"I'm sorry."

Todoroki says nothing and keeps on walking the path that will lead to a higher layer of the abyss. There is a way to track how long they have been travelling. Todoroki's stride is even and constant, each step taking about the same stretch of time and covering the same distance. All Izuku needs is to measure the time it takes for a single step—point eight three four seconds—and count how many steps he takes. Of course, he accounts for variance in stride and standard deviations, but the answer is still chilling.

Will you hide the truth? Mikumo asks, genuinely curious.

I don't know.

They near the next waypoint a long time later. It is a shimmering barrier of ephemeral time, constantly fluctuating with neither rhyme nor reason. Izuku taps Todoroki's right arm. His classmate lifts his arm and places it against the barrier.

Ice spreads rapidly, a massive wall reaching to the heavens above and the horizons to either side. And then, the ice shatters. Shards as large as building crash to the ground, kicking up explosions of sand. Todoroki ignores this and walks past the waypoint.

The giant skeleton appears suddenly and without warning, eight too large heads and more decaying wings than a caterpillar has legs. Izuku points to the largest head, the one with a giant sandworm caught in its vicious tusks. The sandworm writhes in agony, its lifeforce slowly being consumed to return this dead thing to life.

"What do you see?" Izuku asks.

Todoroki takes a deep breath even as he forms a highway of ice to the head. "The sight you gave me show a creature with multiple heads eating a giant worm."

"And what does your soul tell you?"

Something swoops towards them. Todoroki stomps his foot on the ice ramp and a large spear emerges from it, striking the creature through the wing.

He does this with the same ease as the last five over the few hours they've been in this layer.

"I see a nightmare consuming the warmth of life."

Izuku nods against Todoroki's shoulder.

"Both are wrong," he says softly. "The worm is a godling of the desert mind, and that winged creature lost a battle in the diamond dust rebellion. Now it's having a conversation on who should own this desecrated world."

Todoroki shudders as they land on the skull. He takes care to keep his distance from the giant worm and its field of eternal starvation and dryness.

"It's dead," Todoroki says instead. "It looks and feels dead."

What measure is alive to ones who have felled stars and consumed the void which binds?

"I'm not sure what life looks like to you," Izuku admits. "This thing is having a metaphysical conversation with a godling of this world to determine who will control the desert. You see it eat, and if you had the same senses I did, you would see how its consciousness moves through the deep desert. It thinks and has intent, and though you may not perceive them, it has senses as well. What is that if not life?"

"Your senses that apparently aren't working but are fucking telling you all this." Izuku's upper body stiffens around Todoroki who sighs. "Sorry. I'm angry and tired and upset."

"I know. And it's my fault." He points Todoroki to what might be an eye socket on another creature but here is simply a molten pool of refracted time. "That piece of shrapnel severed my spine and crippled my powers. I can use them a bit, mostly as a plug to stop the bleeding and to figure out where we're going next. But it's all hazy. I used to be able to make worlds of shadows here. I was… I suppose I was a God here once as well."

He lifts his hand and concentrates hard. A tiny wisp of shadow surrounds his index finger. But, he feels the shadows keeping whatever remains of his spine intact fade away. The pain hits him hard in a wave. He grits his teeth and forces the shadows to reform.

"You alright?" Todoroki asks, his voice strained.

"I'm fine."

Todoroki stops where the eye of refracted time starts. "You're not because I'm seeing the things your powers are hiding."

Izuku concentrates harder on Todoroki and the shadows keeping his classmate sane. He solidifies them, anchors them to memories of the beach where he met All Might; all the happiness and joy and warmth of that moment against this desolate world.

"Better?"

"Yes." Todoroki skates across a thin railing of ice right to the centre of the eye. "How long have we been here?"

"Do you really want the answer to that?"

"Yes."

"Three days."

-TDB-

Inko Midoriya holds a room together through the sheer force of her will, moments after the explosion that tore through the stadium. Only she stands between the other parents and certain death.

And she feels her body breaking with the strain.

Her nose bleeds heavily, and she feels something in her brain snap—in the cracks of her mind she hears the endless chittering of spiders and their unhallowed gods. She can see how her hands pale as the blood flow to them is constricted, turning blue at the tips in the few seconds that she has her quirk active.

The beat of her heart is erratic, oscillating from a thunderous staccato to mind-numbing silence for two beats. A part of her vision is dark, perhaps from exhaustion or perhaps from blindness.

"Out," Jin Mo-Ri orders, standing tall and serene before the danger. "Hallway part of superstructure. Move!"

Thank you, she thinks as Mitsuki ushers her husband off the ground.

Her friend does her best to pick up one of the parents who is unconscious, a deep gash across her forehead. It galvanises the other parents to get the fuck up and help. Because if they don't then Inko's sacrifice will be for nothing.

"Will stay," Jin says once he's managed to get the last civilian out the door.

"Don't be a fucking idiot," Mitsuki snaps. "It's going to collapse any moment."

Jin looks to Inko, assessing her for a moment—no matter that she is losing hold of the outer edges of the ceiling and smaller stones tumble to the ground.

"Quirk is speed. Will escape with Inko." He nods to her and places a hand on her shoulder. "Release power when ready."

Inko takes a long breath even as something in her neck cracks painfully. "Now."

There is a rush of air and a blur of motion. When she regains her bearings, Inko is in the hallway. The stand they were just in collapses, an onslaught of rock and steel and concrete that would have killed them all.

Only now does she smell the smoke and the familiar scent of glycerine from Mitsuki's sweat. Her legs give out and someone grabs her, laying her down gently against a wall.

"That's not practice," Mitsuki mutters.

"Can we please just not do this."

"I agree," Marasu says, looking her over once with trained eyes. "Come on."

He lifts her, hoisting Inko's arm around his shoulder. Any other day she would be galled by having someone practically carry her, but right now everything hurts and she wants to feel safe.

"Where are we going?"

"Anywhere that's safe," someone else answers.

It gets harder to stay present. Her brain hurts from the strain of holding a room together. She blinks and loses a few minutes, finding herself carried over Marasu's broad shoulders.

"Stay with us," he says softly.

She blinks and they're in another part of the hallway, this one better lit and not completely ruined. Her head sways and she gets a look at Mitsuki helping another parent and Jin at the front of the pack. One of the rooms they pass has a glass wall and it creaks ominously.

Wait, that… that shouldn't be making that sound—oh shit.

She is too slow to recognise the creaking for what it is.

Inko is no hero and lacks the instincts that make one. She only reacts after the glass wall shatters and instinctively catches the small shards of glass without looking.

A spike of pain drills through her mind as she calls on more power than she should have. It's like looking at the past and present and a shimmering barrier of frozen and ephemeral time.

But it gives her the power to catch most of the shards.

The pieces of glass that would have killed them all fall to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces and forming the runes of to summon a dying god. She nudges one out of the way errantly before things get worse.

She is too late to stop everyone being hurt. The woman with a hawk's head is peppered with glass along her side and bleeds heavily.

"We need to find medical supplies quickly," someone says.

"Fan out. Pick a direction. If you find any rooms marked green, they should be sealed safe rooms."

Inko would help if not for Mitsuki keeping her down. She understands her worry. Inko is tired and the world wobbles when she tilts her head. That doesn't include the horrible nosebleed she has or the creeping darkness in one eye.

"Don't you dare move," Mitsuki orders, pressing torn cloth to her nose.

Inko simply nods and leans her head against the wall. Her neck hurts, she notices. She looks to the woman bleeding on the floor, her towering husband holding a bloodstained shirt against her side as he applies pressure to stem the bleeding.

She closes her eyes for a moment.

It is a moment that seems to last forever. Her mind drifts across all that is and can never be, to places that should have no name and times yet to come but still long past. Somehow, she sees a churning vortex of chaos and a tower of spiders, climbing the endless links to a shadow and a wisp of flame.

Someone shakes her awake.

The vision vanishes and she is back in the dark corridor. The world is made of simple atoms and gravity and time moving in one direction.

She looks up to see Marasu, weary and tired and close to breaking like everyone else. And yet, there is a core of steel resolve that gives her hope.

"Hey, we're moving her to a safe room."

Inko blinks and sees Tokoyami's mother being loaded onto a makeshift stretcher, made from the remnants of a long dress and tattered cloth. The towering form of her husband carries one end of the sling, his face a mask of silent and bloody rage.

"How long was I out of it?" Inko asks, not wanting to spend any more time thinking about the invisible but bloody chains surrounding the man's forearms. They bear a legacy of rage and death, the weapons befitting a god of war made human.

"Be gentle," the husband says in a gravelly voice to Jin, who nods and takes the other end.

Marasu helps Inko to her feet, keeping her steady when she wobbles. "Not long enough. You look like you're about to pass out."

"I think I did."

With his help, she walks forward, leaning heavily against his bulk. Mitsuki is somewhere ahead, talking intensely and, surprisingly, politely, with one of the other parents.

They are a convoy of broken and scared civilians being led through the dark bowels of the stadium by a foreigner and a doctor. It could be worse. None of them are dead. Yet.

It becomes hard to focus. Her mind hurts and her eyes burn with smoke. She closes them, trusting in Marasu to guide her forward. And focuses on ignoring the sounds of something crawling in the walls, something with too many legs and too many beady eyes.

When she next rises from the murk of exhaustion, she's been laid against a corner of a room. It is bright, almost blindingly so, but smells surprisingly clean. It takes her a moment to understand that there are likely oxygen tanks pumping clean air into this room.

The safe room is still structurally sound by her estimation when she casts her senses outward, and someone has lit the chemical lights, bathing the entire room in harsh light. There are sixteen of them in total, some staring dully in shock and some shedding tears. It is Marasu who tends to the injured with the medical supply after he has stabilised Tokoyami's mother.

"If we don't find a way out, then we might not all make it through this."

It is the single thing she hoped no one would mention. Not because she is avoiding that truth—no, her son taught her the consequences of ignoring truths—but because it leads to the cascade of voices shouting.

Inko bears it for exactly a minute. Then she stands and walks towards the door, the voices dying down.

"The hell are you doing?"

"The room we were in," Inko says through the silence. "The floor collapsed. We can crawl through there."

Mitsuki stares at her, equal parts shocked and angry. "You're being fucking ridiculous and you know it." She glances at her husband. "You have to agree."

"Busy," Marasu mutters as he tends to Tokoyami's mother, his training as a physician coming to use.

"I can help," Inko says and offers a gentle smile. "That's all that matters."

That is how she finds herself accompanied by Jin Mo-Ri and Mitsuki Bakugou through the dark bowels of the stadium, back to the room that they very nearly died in. The room that very nearly broke all that she is, scattering her mind to a thousand different realms to be consumed by the monsters waiting above clouds of blood.

Marasu Bakugou tends to the wounded in the safe room, guarded by a massive mountain of a man who she assumes is Tokoyami's father. Surprising considering how tiny his son is by comparison.

Jin is surprisingly strong despite his lean frame and he moves rubble away from the door easily. She helps even if Mitsuki tells her to conserve her power for later. They enter the room that Inko held together through only the force of her will.

The hole through which they will crawl reminds her of a descent into madness. The red lights and destroyed nature of the room only lend credence to that. The smoky air is no reassurance but she has no other choice, not after volunteering.

It terrifies her to think she may be the strongest person in the area. The others don't have quirks suited to this like Mitsuki or completely lack quirks. If they must crawl through a dark tunnel then it is in their best interest to have someone who can hold back the danger if it collapses.

Jin leads the way through the tunnel, not at all intimidated by what they are about to do. She nods to Mitsuki before going in second.

Space is cramped, and she is grateful that she has shed a few pounds. A barb of metal scrapes her shoulder but she ignores it, only whispering a warning for Mitsuki.

Inko raises a piece of metal. It causes the rubble to shift.

Her powers come to life and she holds their impending death back with only her mind. She whispers the name of a dying god and solidifies the barrier. She isn't sure what the cost of that will be later, but she has little choice if they are to survive.

She moves faster, nose bleeding and mind cracking under the strain. Jin catches her when she exits the tunnel and they wait anxiously until Mitsuki exits.

"Give a moment."

Inko lets her power fade and the tunnel collapses. Good, she'd much prefer a ramp. She brings her hands down, her power compacting the tunnel. Metal groans and concrete shatters beneath her might until a ramp between the two levels exists.

"You ever going to tell me what's going on with your quirk?"

Inko rolls her eyes tiredly, blinking away the darkness.

"I've never practised and pushed my limits until the last few years. Can you just accept that I'm not going to remain the same person you knew?"

Something snaps.

She sees the steel cable speed towards her and faster than the thought to it takes to stop it. She fully expects to lose her head by the force of the braided steel cable.

A gust of air and Jin stands between the cable and her, one arm raised casually to stop it. He doesn't even flinch when it strikes him. In fact, it bounces back as though it hit a wall of diamond.

"Stay vigilant," Jin growls, his eyes already scanning the rest of the floor they are on. "There." He points to a stairwell where the upper level is collapsed beneath the rubble.

They walk down the stairs, Jin taking the lead. It gets darker on the lower level, most of the lights having been destroyed.

"I think there's someone under there," Mitsuki says, pointing to a pile of rubble.

Inko rushes over fast as she can with how painful everything is.

She is careful to lift the topmost pieces of rubble first. She can't tell what state the person beneath the rubble is in, but she can't risk possibly worsening their condition. They're strapped for time and resources and an escape route. They can't add another injured person to that list.

There comes a point when the load has lightened enough that the person beneath claws their way out.

Except it isn't a person but a shadow, deep and miserable. There is a sudden whoosh and she finds herself a few feet away between Jin and the shadow creature. It stumbles forward and the shadows dissipate.

Jin catches the person.

She raises her brow, partly shock and partly amusement.

Mostly though, it is simply profound exhaustion.

"Tokoyami?"

-TDB-

Fumikage Tokoyami awakens slowly.

He blinks through the haze of darkness until he realises, he is very literally in the dark. Smoke chokes his lungs and his torso is a mess of pain.

Reaching out and finds something solid and heavy above him. He pushes with his arms first, and then, after planting his feet firmly on the object, he pushes with his entire body.

It creaks ponderously, and though his legs strain badly, he doesn't stop until it is shoved aside. Red light fills his world.

Emergency lights, he realises as he crawls through the small opening, ignoring the concrete and metal shards that scrape his skin. He groans once he's out of what might have been his tomb and rolls to the side.

A dead body greets him.

It is a woman by the soft line of her jaw and the long cascading hair now burnt and in clumps. Both her body and uniform are charred, tattered white strips of fabric the only things denoting her status as being part of the Imperial Household.

He notices this errantly in the back of his mind, cataloguing those facts without much thought.

The rest of his mind is more focused on turning to the side and vomiting.

It is nothing like the horrors the wish that wore Izuku's body as a second skin showed him in the true dark, but it is a horror all the same. Perhaps worse for those were horrors beyond the ken of mortality and the mundane laws of spacetime.

This is someone he had been talking to, even if she had planned on arresting him, and now she is dead and gone.

"Dark Shadow," he croaks, throat burnt and lungs full of smoke.

The demon rises slowly from his body, its form small despite the dimness. He senses weariness and hurt from his companion.

You're up, it says, its weakness mirroring his own.

It glances at the dead woman and then places itself between Fumikage and the body without prompting.

Close your heart to the pain.

Fumikage looks around, glad for his companion. There is rubble beneath him, and to the left, the steel superstructure seems to have collapsed. Ahead, where the should be a door, there is a small mound of concrete. He doesn't look to the right where the dead body lay covered by Dark Shadow's bulk.

He doesn't want to think of what might have happened to the other bodies. There were five, maybe six people in this room with him.

"What happened?"

Explosion. I can't tell if it was a quirk or manufactured. Dark Shadow snakes away from the corpse. I was too busy keeping you alive.

Fumikage bows his head. "You have my thanks. But we need an exit route."

You could stay here and wait to be rescued. Moving things might damage the superstructure further. And the only way to move things is…

"To summon it," Tokoyami finishes even as he stands. "It is still shackled. It will obey."

Give it any leeway and it will consume you. Dragons are creatures of the abyss. It knows no love, no compassion, no loyalty. Only the laws of power.

Fumikage scoffs. "Just like I give you leeway. Move this rubble aside."

Dark Shadow obeys without question, though Fumikage senses displeasure from the demon. It takes a few minutes for the rubble blocking the doorway to be removed. The hallway beyond is dark with only flickering emergency lights casting it in sickly ambience.

He chooses a direction at random and walks to the right. With his sense of direction as bad as it is, he's more likely to find an exit at random, letting chance and probability dictate his survival.

Fumikage keeps a hand on the wall and walks slowly, unwilling to risk placing his entire weight on what may be a collapsing floor waiting to happen. The hallway ends in a wall of rubble and a stairwell with only partial access. The stairs leading higher are collapsed whilst those below are dark, hidden even more, and remind him eerily of the battle trial.

This time, though, Dark Shadow does not battle him. The demon is ever-present at his shoulder, watching for falling rubble should the need arise. And, should Dark Shadow fail, Fumikage has another option now.

He hears quiet whispers as he descends. It makes him quicken his pace. Perhaps it is people that can help. And even if they cannot, he is honour bound to help.

Turning the bend, he finds a group of civilians sitting or kneeling or lying unconscious on the ground. There is an air of desperation to them, heightened by the red gloom and the ashy air. He wonders if everyone is like this, at least those graced by fate to live another day.

Will you be their hero? Dark Shadow asks him and only him.

Fumikage takes a deep breath.

"Hello there," he says for it is the only thing he can think of.

A man, perhaps in his forties, with dark hair rises from his spot by the wall. He shambles towards Fumikage with the air of someone forced to be in charge and not used to the responsibility. The others look at him tiredly, their energy seemingly reserved only for themselves.

"You're the boy from the finals," the man says, voices gravely from smoke and ash.

Fumikage looks past him and at a woman whose breathing is laborious. "Yes. I will ensure you all make it out." He bows his head in respect for his elder. "What is the situation?"

The man's glare is hard. "Why the hell should I trust you? I had family in Shikoku."

And like that, Fumikage understands his hostility. So many died that night and his dragon wields flames the same colour. It is why members of both the government and the Imperial Household had nearly arrested him before the explosion.

"I take it you have family elsewhere? If you choose to oppose me, then I find it unlikely for you to see them again."

"Why you—"

"Had you the power to do so, you would have escaped already. As it stands, you have not." He nods to a man who has bandages on his neck and shoulder stained red. "I take it you found the medical supplies. I commend you for that. Now, let me save you."

"Just trust… the d-damned brat," the lady with laboured breathing says, more a pained wheeze than anything else.

The man looks to her, his features darkening with shame. He turns back to Fumikage.

"I don't like you. My sister was burnt to death by those flames."

"You do not have to find my presence calming. But I only ask that you let me help you and fulfil my duty."

After a long moment, the man nods. "Help them."

Fumikage sniffs, smelling the air. "Tell me the situation."

The man points back to the stairwell Fumikage came from. "The floor above us is closed off with rubble and the staircase higher is collapsed. Down here the only path has a sealed blast door."

It takes him a moment to place the door in his mind. "That is the path we must go. I will unseal the door."

"There's no power."

Fumikage nods as he walks down the hallway. He checks some of the civilians—the woman with laboured breathing, and he knows too little to help treat her; the man with bits and pieces of shrapnel in his neck and side, bandaged heavily and fitfully unconscious; a girl with a large gash on her forehead, unconscious; and a teenage boy crying with his blank eyes wide and staring at nothing, the sight disconcerting but one Fumikage must ignore as he is not Midoriya who always knows what to say.

The sealed doorway is bulky and made of interlocking steel slabs. He knows there is a manual override, one that should appear on the opposite side of whatever caused the door to appear. Fumikakge orders Dark Shadow to inspect the topmost sill.

The override is on the other side, Dark Shadow says.

Fumikage nods. "Stand back," he orders.

It takes a second for the man to comply. He focuses on his soul and the chains connecting him firstly to Dark Shadow, and secondly to his latest creature.

He tugs on the chain. Commands in his mind, Slice through the door delicately. Allows the dragon's arm to emerge from his torso, forcing it smaller than it was during the stadium.

The black scales seem to suck in the little light they have. Its five claws on strangely human-like hands are the only source of light, a reflection of a future sliced away. It stabs through the central crease, and with only the force of the muscles in its scaly paws, it forces the doorway open a smidge.

Fumikage feels his energy drain as he summons the other arm. The dragon's arms push the doorway open fully. He can see a sliver of light in the distance, perhaps the outside world or perhaps just a bright light.

Either way, it is more hope than they had before.

"Get everyone out," Tokoyami hisses through clenched teeth. "Now."

The doors want to close and strains against the two arms. Tokoyami stands between the arms and the doorway, sweat dripping down his neck. He has little energy after the match with Uraraka and Bakugou, even less after the explosion and Dark Shadow saving him. And now, the dragon draws upon his tiny energy reserves to keep the door open.

But he lets none of his weakness show. If there is one thing he knows about heroes it is that they may never show weakness when rescuing civilians.

The man whose sister burnt to death by godflame rushes the lady and the little girl to the other side quickly. Fumikage looks over back as he lifts the man with shrapnel in a fireman's carry, ducking beneath the dragon's arms and laying the man gently against the wall. It is the teenager who takes the longest as he actively resists any attempt to be moved. When he hears something above snap, his hand is forced.

"I'll get him," Fumikage snaps through clenched teeth. "Get to the other side."

The man nods without question and scrambles to the other side as a piece of rebar falls from the ceiling.

Dark Shadow, retrieve him.

He feels the last dregs of his energy vanish as Dark Shadow grabs the teenager and drags him to the other side, depositing him roughly even as concrete falls to the ground on both sides of the door. The dragon's arms vanish without Fumikage's strength to sustain them.

He sees the doors approaching, giant steel slabs of death he can't avoid, not with how he is between them. And then, he feels something tug him back to the hallway they were in before.

Dark Shadow surrounds his body as concrete and rebar fall. He doesn't fight as Dark Shadow puppets his arms to catch a long piece of steel. Fumikage collapses beneath its weight, but it does not crush him. He breathes rapidly as other pieces fall on him.

He is glad he is not claustrophobic right now. The weight is immense, and alone he would be dead. It is only the union of his physical body and the power of his first companion that he even has a chance at survival.

What now? Dark Shadow asks when they are buried beneath the rubble.

He is also glad he chose not to fight Dark Shadow. There is a comfort in knowing the impossible shadow that is part of his quirk protects him from the weight pressing down.

I don't know. The override is on the other side so hopefully, they will find people to open it and find me.

Do you believe that?

I must. How long can you protect me like this?

A few minutes at best.

Then we must have faith that fate does not wish we perish this day.

Despite their disagreements, Dark Shadow is still his oldest companion. Wrapped in his misty form of unbridled potential, Fumikage feels at peace.

He thinks of the story the man at that special day-care told him, a story of children of bravery unmatched as their village hidden in leaves was destroyed by hateful people. Under the crushing weight of rubble, minutes from death, he wonders if dying for a few civilians is all his life will amount to.

He thinks of Midoriya and knows his friend would make the same decision without hesitation. And there is no one he respects more.

Still, it hurts that this is all he will amount to. A scared boy dead beneath the rubble.

Faith is a fool's gambit, Dark Shadow says, always knowing his thoughts, but I think you humans need it. This may be my last life cycle. I don't know what will happen once you die. Maybe I'll go screaming back to the void-which-binds to my people. Perhaps my existence truly is chained to yours eternally. But, I don't hate you. I think your life will have meaning.

That makes him smile.

Thank you, my friend.

How long have we been together?

A decade now since I reached for you.

A long time for humans. When you tore me from my home, I lost most of my memories. Instinct is all that remained.

I'm sorry. I always will be. But I was a child who has no idea what they were doing.

I know, and I forgive you. Ever since you went back there, my memories have been coming back. Not all of them, but bits and pieces. I've lived longer than this world, perhaps longer than your universe. I've seen eternal Ayatan Sculptures and gods in the frames of war eternal. I've led the council of my people by virtue of being the oldest and I pioneered our final life cycle. You took me as a weak new-born after my final rebirth. I should hate you. But despite all that I've seen, you're the first to call me a friend. I don't regret all that I've learnt amongst your kind.

Perhaps in the future, we will be able to understand you better.

Dark Shadow hums in his mind. You must never let that happen. The abyss is anathema to true life. I don't know why, but humans touching other aspects of the abyss should never happen. Even though the void has touched life here, it should not have happened to this extent. It is the godfflame that reigns supreme here. There are too many quirks and bloodlines tainted by eternal dark.

Is that truly so wrong? I would never want to imagine life without you.

Is that your command, my prince? Dark Shadow physical form vibrates and Fumikage's nostrils clear, letting him breathe unimpeded. There are too many kings, here. I hate your friend, though I understand why now more than ever. He is the shadowking, and the deep abyss is his to claim. He is anathema to void life and true life both. Too human and too nightmarish at once. But you are also a king who has chained me to your will. A king of slaves.

Do not call me a slaver.

Dark Shadow chuckles. It is what you are, my prince of crows. One of three though none should exist.

The thought makes him uncomfortable. What then does that make him, truly? If he is to die today, then he would rather not have that be his last thought.

Do you think they'll miss me? He asks, changing the subject badly.

Dark Shadow humours him. Who?

The children. They'll be alone without me.

They have their caretaker.

Yes, but he isn't… he's a mutant, but he's not young. They don't relate to him as they do me. They look up to me.

Dark Shadow thrums, the sensation oddly soothing. Then visit them after this is done. This is not the time to give up on your dreams.

I never did get a real sword. I still want one.

You'll have one, Dark Shadow says, and even Fumikage knows it to be a weak reassurance. It'll be magnificent. Long and sharp and maybe even on fire.

Fumikage would laugh if his chest wasn't being crushed. The impending certainty of death crushes the little cheer he can muster in this situation.

He hears footsteps moments before someone says, "Ah, shit, this way's closed as well."

Fumikage opens his mouth and shouts, "Help."

"Oh shit, there's someone here. Someone help me move the rubble."

He hears another set of footsteps, no, two more. "Move, Mitsuki."

You were right about faith, Dark Shadow whispers in his mind.

The omnipresent weight of the rubble lightens as pieces of it are removed. Slowly, he feels the spectre of death that had been looming over him vanish. The moment he can, he claws his way past the last layer of rubble and tumbles out onto the ground. Someone catches him. He looks up to see a man with stars for eyes.

"Tokoyami?"

He looks to the side and sees Izuku's mother.

"Mrs Midoriya?" He lets Dark Shadow fade away, the dark armour disintegrating and leaving him in his soot-covered gym clothes.

"Thank you," he says to the man and steps back cautiously, instinctively knowing something is strange about the man.

There is another adult with them, a blonde woman who looks like Bakugou's older sister. Which he knows can't be right because Bakugou doesn't have a sister.

He stretches his back and feels something crack loudly. "I am glad you found me."

"We weren't going to leave you," Mrs Midoriya says, dried blood staining her face "We've been looking for exits but the upper floors are wrecked. We had to crawl through a hole to get to the floor above us."

Fumikage nods. "That doorway should lead to the arena, but rubble has collapsed it on either side."

"Mitsuki, Jin, why don't you guys check if there's a way to open it." She pulls him aside to the staircase and forces him to sit. "You're shaking."

"Am I?" He looks to his hands and finds them trembling. "How odd."

"You're experiencing a stress reaction. How do you feel?"

"Nothing. I don't… feel anything, right now." And yet, there is a deep pit in the bottom of his stomach, a gnawing sensation that he is terrified of looking at.

She holds his gaze, her eyes shining brightly in the dark just like her son's. Her features are harsh in the red light, sharp and angular. The is a strength to her that he can't place.

She is nothing like his simpering mother.

"Where you with my mother?" he asks sharply. "And father?"

"They're safe for now. They're in a room where the superstructure is still strong. There's clean air and medical supplies."

He exhales slowly. "Secure panic room. There are a few in the stadium. Now we just need to break past the rubble there."

"The godflame can melt that door," Mrs Midoriya muses.

Fumikage stills, ice running down his spine. It is the name the fabric of the abyss branded in his bones when he chained the dragon to his will.

He looks to Izuku's mother, really looks at her past the superficial features, and senses the echoes of ancient knowledge in her eyes, the cold tendrils of nightmares coiling around her neck, and the spectre of witnessing eternity around her shoulders. Most of all, he sees the spectre of a dead god attached to her soul, endless eyes observing him back and long legs wrapped around her.

"You're aware of its true nature," he says at length. "He told you of that place."

Her smile is tight. "I'm his mother," she says as though that is all the answer that matters and perhaps it is. "And I'm not happy he took you to the abyss."

"Forgive me, but I reached for it long before I met your son." He lets Dark Shadow materialise for a moment, just long enough for her to truly see his companion. "I suppose that is no excuse for not asking your permission."

Her lips are thin, eyes drawn in. "No, it isn't. But it isn't my place to tell you how to live your life." She looks back to the door. "Why haven't you burnt through the door?"

"Can you not smell it? The gas in the air." He inhales once more and yes, it still is in the air. "I did not wish to risk setting off another explosion."

She nods. "Alright. Stay here and I'll open the doorway." He moves to stand but is stilled by her glare. "I don't care if you're training to be a hero. One day you'll be a hero, but right now you look like a scared kid. So, keep your but on that step and don't move."

"Yes, ma'am."

She observes him for a moment before heading towards the door. She says some words to Bakugou's mother, a harsh and whispered argument that he can't hear. The man adds something to the conversation which only sets Bakugou's mother off, and right now she looks just like her son. It makes him wonder how much of what Bakugou is—was, an insidiously forgiving voice that sounds like Midoriya whispers—results from his parents, and how much is simply who he is and can never be changed.

She's right. You're experiencing a stress reaction.

"You don't even know what that is," he whispers as Izuku's mother extends her hands and he watches her lift the rocks through some unknown force.

But the more he pays attention to it, the more he can see an echo of dying gods in unhallowed words, immaterial runes of power forming in the patterns her power leaves behind.

It's always been a give and take between us. I can amplify the negative emotions you feel. But I can also take them away. You don't need them right now. I'll return them with interest later.

He grimaces. "You're more trouble than you're worth."

With the rubble gone, Izuku's mother thrusts one hand forward and pulls the other back. A surge of power, perhaps invisible to normal humans, pulses out from her at the action. The dragon chained to his soul focuses on her as the door groans and creaks. Slowly, like the petals of a lotus, the door unfurls in snaps of broken metal and stems of deformation.

She stumbles, only to be caught by Bakugou's mother who whispers something tenderly to her. Izuku's mother shakes her head and steps forward, wobbling, and pushes both hands forward. The rubble on the other side slides forward. Bakugou's mom catches her before she falls and helps her to the ground.

Fumikage stands and walks over as the adults talk amongst themselves.

"She will be fine," the man says. "The others no. We need to get them."

"We're not leaving her alone."

The man shrugs. "Boy can watch her." He's looking at Fumikage.

"This is ridiculous."

"Mitsuki," Izuku's mother says, exhaustion colouring every word. "Please, just go. We'll be fine here."

"Oh, you can't be fucking serious." She throws her hands in the air and walks with the man, meeting Fumikage's gaze for a moment. "You keep her safe, you hear."

"Yes, ma'am."

Fumikage picks a particularly large stone and sits beside Izuku's mother. Her eyes are closed, features tight with pain.

"What is your quirk?"

She opens just one green eye. "Moving objects with my mind."

He hums. "With that level of power, you could easily be a hero. What was it originally before the darkness altered it?"

"I don't have to answer that."

"No, you do not. I always thought my quirk was Dark Shadow, that creature you saw just now. It seems it has always been to bind the creatures of the void to my soul."

"The dragon was why you went to the abyss," she guesses. "You were looking for power."

"Partly," he says honestly. "I was fulfilling a personal oath and completing a final wish. I've told you about my quirk. Will you return the courtesy?"

"You're very politely arrogant. Not good with people in the slightest, are you?" He would flush if not for his feathers and the soot clinging to him. "I could move small objects with my mind. Now, well, I don't know if I have an upper limit."

"General telekinesis." He thinks of the power she drew from. "You were invoking a dead god with your power."

"I know. Izuku's told me more about the abyss than he should have. And some things cling to him on occasion."

They stay in an uncomfortable silence until the rest of the adults are brought down and they head outside to the arena. The centre which is untouched by destruction has been converted to a makeshift field hospital, with Cementoss make more stable structures with his power.

He stands with his father as his mother is carried to a critical tent, her side bleeding badly despite the bandages. His father stays silent, a looming presence behind Fumikage. It is the only comfort he will ever receive from the man, paltry though it is. The assurance that his rage and violence is not directed at his son, at least not now.

"Will she live?" he asks of the man who sired him.

And just as he expects, he receives no answer. Fumikage sighs. "I'll be with my friends."

Fumikage looks to him in confusion and follows his gaze to the side where Uraraka and Iida are setting up supplies for another field tent with Shinsou and Kaminari.

He feels eyes watching him and sees All Might. The hero nods to him from across the stadium. There is no expectation in his strong gaze, just the reassurance that any action is permitted. He walks towards his friends and forces his tense limbs to loosen. He smiles at Shinsou who has dropped a box.

Only then does he notice the thick swathe of bandages around his hand is because his friend is missing a finger.

Fumikage swallows, feeling guilty for his weakness when others are strong.

"Where do you need me?" he says, staring at that hand missing a finger.

-TDB-

Izuku decides that of all creatures he hates, spiders rank the highest. He can only grip Todoroki tightly as his friend fights a horde of the creatures, each chittering step on steel making him shiver.

They're climbing the corpse of what might very generously be called an elephant, but one that is the fetid remains of something consumed from the inside out. He can see the miles long spires that could be considered a ribcage, the twining row of repugnant tusks upon which creatures are burnt in dark flame, their futures consumed by the flames and the lines of tribute the kindling to this massive pyre.

The waypoint is somewhere inside the elephant, which means climbing it. And the only way to do that is to scale the gleaming yellow chains tying it down to the vortex of churning chaos, a vortex that has already consumed an ethereal serpent long as a continent.

Each link takes Todoroki hours to scale, and Izuku dangles uselessly on his back. It surprises him that Todoroki has the pure physical strength to scale what amounts to a vertical cliff face whilst carrying a cripple.

That, and face off against a horde of spiders.

When Izuku looks down, he can see the thousand thousand corpses of dead spiders, each large as a building and each with a glowing red orb protected by their steely carapaces. Shouto has killed so many of them that they form a tower of corpses, the base of which is fathoms below the vortex of chaos. And still, there are more.

Todoroki sets Izuku down in a hollow where the chains have chipped. At that scale, a small chip is the size of a cave. He's breathing hard when he sets Izuku down, rougher than he usually is. Izuku doesn't complain that his arm is grazed by metal chips or that his unfeeling legs are probably in a bad position.

With his left hand, Todoroki makes a thick shard of ice and extends it to Izuku. They've done this often enough that Izuku doesn't hesitate and snaps it in half and chews a chunk. It doesn't taste as ice should, there's some quality that affects time itself distorting the flavour profile.

A loud shriek pierces the air. It is a battle cry from the host of enemies seeking their death.

Todoroki sighs. "Give me a moment."

He forces himself up and walks towards the entrance of their temporary rest stop. Izuku watches him walk to the edge before jumping off.

He's getting used to this place.

Izuku looks to his brother, a shimmering apparition who sits on a steel mound like the king of a fallen kingdom. He looks so similar to the image he sees in the mirror that it startles Izuku. Their colouring may be different as Mikumo has dark eyes and darker hair to Izuku's light green, but anyone who could see them would assume them twins trying to look different.

"That's not a good thing," Izuku says as a high-pitched whining fills the air, the sound of steel grinding on steel at high speeds. "I can't help him."

I'm sorry, brother mine. Things will become worse. The chains of this dark universe are slowly forcing you into a role. You must become a caricature for the sake of this world's theatre.

Izuku blinks. "What?"

I truly am sorry. You are his guide and burden. The universe acknowledges this role you must play. But without the entirety of your powers in the skin you wear, you can't escape the weight of Todoroki's story.

In the depths of his soul, he understands. Without the power that makes him Shadowshield in the real world, that makes world-ending dragons and ancient trees call him shadowking, he is nothing more than a puppet.

The wailing of a host of spiders dying reaches him, a chittering sound in his bones of crushed carapaces and dead dreams and legions singing a violent dirge: /A thousand curses upon you, corpse of the shadowking. The debts of your kin must be paid in blood/

Izuku ignores it as best he can. They aren't the first to demand he pay a debt, but it's only been since he returned to this place. He isn't certain what has changed between the few real days since he last came here and the Sports Festival, but something drives the denizens of the abyss into a frenzy.

When Todoroki returns, he is covered in blood and broken armour and feathers. He walks towards Izuku, stumbling at the last moment and crashing to the ground.

"Fuck."

He scrambles towards his friend, dragging himself across the ground with his arms. Shouto's breathing harshly but silently, his pupils dilated beneath the veil of shadow that keeps him mostly sane.

He places a hand over Shouto's chest and feels the rapid beat of his heart. Beneath that common sound of the mundane living is the song of ice and fire that make up his soul. The sound is discordant, waning the longer they spend like this.

"Your body's failing," Izuku says bluntly.

"How much longer?"

"You're slowing down," Izuku says, ignoring the question. "You haven't eaten since the stadium. How are you managing?"

"Survival training with my father."

"Not pleasant?"

"No. Are you going to tell me how long we've been here?"

"Six days now, Going on seven." He taps Todoroki's cold arm, a fine layer of ice clinging to it. "Your ice is morphing, changing to suit this world. Those crystals that kept you going have altered it, granted it properties of entropy. But it isn't a substitute for food."

Todoroki sighs and pushes himself up, grunting with his exhaustion. He pulls Izuku and wraps his useless legs around his waist. A cloth ties Izuku's legs to Todoroki's waist so they don't interfere and they set off once more, climbing the seemingly endless chains.

It takes them another two days of fighting hordes of spiders and climbing the thick chains before they reach the summit, and only because the distance is relative in the abyss. Todoroki carries him to the hollowed-out husk of the elephant and together, the journey to another layer of the abyss.

The first thing Izuku can tell of this new layer is that they are in something like a cave, the ground too smooth to be anything but the physical litanies of a god and too bright to be anything other than prayers from a throne world.

In the centre of the cave is a creature of many arms, a distorted vision of humanity's gods of war. It possesses antlers dripping slimy fluid skyward, a head that vaguely reminds him of an octopus, and legs like a raptor.

Izuku blinks before tapping Todoroki on the shoulder. "There's food."

Todoroki tilts his head to see Izuku out of the corner of his eye. And his gaze is every type of perplexed.

"You've got to be shitting me."

The creature finally notices them, standing from its throne of blood and war made physical. It raises a dark weapon, one that emits a thick smoke of darkness and carries a burning edge. Instinctively, he knows it to be an infernal engine shaped by the godflame's heat.

A Blade of Disparity, Mikumo whispers, awestruck. I never thought I'd see one.

Izuku ignores him and instead grins at the approaching monster.

"Godlings taste delicious."

Todoroki, thankfully, is interested in living and that means killing the godling. It isn't a particularly powerful creature, hardly capable of doing more than swinging that sword and sending continent-shattering waves of power.

And in this place, that level of power makes you insignificant.

Hours later, Izuku is deep in the torso of the creature, parting potentially healthy flesh from the bits that will poison them slowly. The thing he generously calls a heart for it channels most of its power is his main priority, hidden beneath layers of alien metals and complex logic and flesh that exists at different points in time.

Eventually, he finds it and rips out the crystal and bone spur heart, as large as his torso. He carelessly tosses it to the side, and with only his arms pulls his way out of the eviscerated body of the godling. He lands roughly on the ground and drags his body to the small bench made of alien glass with one arm, the other holding the heart.

Todoroki is somewhere to the side, not willing to watch this act of butchery. Personally, Izuku thinks he's something of a pussy after killing an endless horde of spiders.

"This will give you strength," he says, once he's finished preparing the heart and moved on to the other bits of flesh. These will be for Izuku, the dregs for he has no right to claim the heart.

"It's alive. And not organic."

"That's not the point, Todoroki. I'm not sure why you keep on using rationality to classify life, but here, metaphors are more important. You killed it."

He pokes Todoroki in the chest with his bloody hand. It leaves a smear of ichor on Todoroki's ripped uniform. From the way Todoroki winces, it may be mildly acidic.

"And by eating this heart you will consume its strength. Humans call it the law of the jungle. Some gods call it sword logic. You ended the concept of the creature, and now you need to eat wholly of its flesh to survive."

The heart shines brightly, still carrying the last wishes of the godling.

Todoroki is pale, hand trembling. "I can't even tell if you're just mad and sincerely believe this or…"

"Or?"

"That you know what you're talking about."

Izuku shrugs. He finishes slicing the nasty portions of the creature like the unhallowed colony of void leeches, and hands Todoroki the ichor covered heart. The ichor is every colour of the rainbow and, in another time, would have looked beautiful to Izuku.

"Cleanse it with your flames."

Todoroki hesitates, just long enough for Izuku to realise it isn't anything as simple as being wary of eating the heart or anything mundane. No, it's something they absolutely do not have time for.

"Oh, for the love of everything good and just in the world, are you seriously hesitating because of your fucking daddy issues. No, shut up, and listen to me. We're trapped and fighting for our survival. We only have each other. If you collapse, something eats me. If I lose concentration, you go mad. Stop fucking things up worse."

Todoroki lets him rant a few minutes more. Izuku doesn't care that his argument soon loses steam and he is being humoured more than anything else.

"Are you done?" he asks dryly, to which Izuku nods. "I know something will change if I use my fire. They've changed just like my ice has."

Izuku looks around. The cave system behind the god's throne isn't physical even if he can sit on the ground and slam his fist against the wall. It is a latticework created by a litany sung by endless rows of thralls and paradox runners. The spot he's currently sitting on is the part of the litany where they describe in gruesome detail the tortures they will inflict upon entire star systems in the name of the god if it appears.

It probably won't.

Todoroki has already killed it.

Mostly.

"We'll be fine. Use it and burn that god in your image."

Todoroki closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Calls upon his fire.

Izuku understands his earlier hesitance. The flames aren't the bright crimsons and warm yellows he remembers, they aren't the colours of summer and sunset. No, this red is the red of congealed blood, the blood of a corpse left to rot for a week. The yellow is the yellow of pus, the colour of sickness and plague.

It is fire, hot as any can be, but they are not the same. And in the echoes of the flame, he can hear the screams of the dead and forgotten, people damned—through torture, through bondage, through their own sins—and the dreams of those Todoroki killed, the spiders begging for forgiveness and all the rest.

Todoroki looks at his flames in disquiet. And then, with a resilience Izuku will always admire, he incinerates the physical form of the dead god.

For a moment, it returns to life and Izuku curses. It emits a scream that tears apart the crystal lattice that is their current world.

And then they are falling.

With a defiance that amazes him, Todoroki grabs Izuku with one hand even as he continues purifying the god returning to life. They battle, creatures of concept more than the physical: the god declares its right to exist, citing the legions that sing its name; Todoroki counters with the memory of slaying the god beneath waves of ice; the god counters with a psychic scream that Izuku counters with a mist of shadows even if his back bleeds; and Todoroki rejects the reality the creature tries to impose upon them.

Fire races across the world, purifying and cleansing the monsters in bondage and the influence of the dead god.

When they land in the next world Izuku holds the heart out to Todoroki. He meets Todoroki's eyes and does his best to impress the importance of what comes next.

"Consume of its flesh and grow fat with strength."

Todoroki eats it without question.

-TDB-

Momo Yaoyorozu is stressed. Partly because she's trapped in a collapsing structure. Mostly because of one person.

"We are so screwed," Kaminari says for the third time in the last a minute.

"Stop panicking."

"Jirou, check Bakugou," Momo says, knowing someone must take charge and having no other options. "Kaminari, check for any medical supplies."

"How the heck is that going to help?"

"It'll get you to keep quiet. He gave us the answer," Momo says, looking once more at the tiny hole Bakugou blasted.

There are cracks spreading out from it, and eventually, it will all collapse under the strain. But it will also be their salvation.

"How the hell is this going to help, Yao-Momo?"

The new nickname throws her for a loop for a moment. She likes Jirou. The other girl's bluntness is refreshing. And after USJ, they have an experience that can't be replicated with anyone else.

"It's an intentional weak point," she explains, "that Bakugou gave me to use. He knows my quirk and how it works. This is a simple physics problem."

She generates seven thick bolts and a pneumatic bolt gun, very intentionally ignoring how the ceiling above them creaks, threatening to crush them.

"The resonant frequency of steel is much higher than concrete." She loads the first bolt and brings the nozzle to a point a metre above the ground on the wall.

"How the hell was he supposed to know you were going to do this?" Kaminari asks, staring at Bakugou.

She pulls the trigger and the bolt embeds itself in the wall.

"He didn't. This is just one possible solution to the problem."

She fires another bolt beneath the first and the final an inch above the ground. She repeats the pattern a metre to the right. The final bolt goes between the topmost two.

"Okay, but how does that stop the entire wall crumbling?" Jirou asks as she checks Bakugou's pulse once more. She nods to Momo. It means he will live despite the shattered arm and the fever gripping him even in the throes of unconsciousness.

It is a bad wound, one that might have long-term consequences. But receiving that wound means that he gave Momo a chance to keep them all alive.

Momo activates her power and makes multiple long strands of a silky material. She is glad she recently checked the chemical composition of the material in the scientific journal that came out last month in preparation of the Sports Festival.

"What are those?"

"A meta-material that transfers vibrational waves perfectly."

She braids the material between the bolts quickly. It takes her no more than a few minutes but each minute they spend here is another opportunity for the superstructure to collapse.

"This makes no sense," Jirou says. "Unless… you know I can't generate sound waves at the frequency."

She stumbles a bit, not having expected that limitation. Still, basic physics is her friend.

"That's why we need Kaminari."

Momo creates a simple audio amp and a more complicated modulator.

"Me? I'm pretty useless."

"No, you're not." She hands Jirou the audio amp cable and Kaminari one from the modulator. Then, she attaches connections to each of the metal bolts.

"Jirou, blast that with the highest frequency you can. Kaminari blast that with as much electricity as you can"

"You know—"

"We won't ditch you."

She meets his eyes, steady as a mountain, and sees the fear hidden in them. "I promise."

He nods, swallowing thickly. "Okay."

She nods to Jirou who blasts the audio amp with a frequency that makes her teeth chatter. Nowhere near high enough just as she said. She nods to Kaminari who takes a deep breath before bright yellow lightning fills the room. The sound goes past hearing range. It doesn't stop her stomach from churning.

The hole becomes larger, the cracks spreading and the concrete falling to the ground as a fine mist.

The section of the wall crumbles beneath the combined power of the setup. She holds her breath and thankfully, the crumbling stops when the metal rods fall out of the wall. She checks the ceiling. Good, still relatively stable. She switches off the setup and smiles at Jirou.

"Help me carry Bakugou." She hoists his good arm over her shoulder.

Jirou rolls her eyes. "I don't even like him." Still, she props Bakugou up by the waist, carefully avoiding his ruined arm.

"That's exactly why. We've got to be better." She nudges Kaminari forward, glad that in his… less mentally capable state, he is docile to her suggestions.

"He's violent and vindictive."

"He is. But he got stabbed for our sake back at USJ. And he risked his life to help us escape."

"It doesn't change what he's done."

Momo nods as they emerge in the light of the arena. "It doesn't. But he's trying to be better. We don't have to be cruel."

A medic with a stretcher runs towards them looking frazzled by the devastation. With his help, the two of them get Bakugou on the stretcher. And when Momo asks, he points her to a supply station for the two of them to help. They tie Kaminari to a post so he doesn't go wandering around and causing trouble in his addled state.

The work is long and tiresome, but no matter how hard she tries it never seems enough. There is always one more person who needs medication from this box and a medic who needs a new IV line from the ambulances that stream in; Kamui Woods co-opts her power and has her generate thermal blankets until her vision wavers and Mt. Lady forces her to sit and eat a ration bar.

Whilst she sits, she catalogues those placed further away and covered in simple blankets. They are those dead. Already there are hundreds of dead civilians, and she knows the death toll will only rise. All she can do is hope no one she knows is amongst the dead.

Hours later, when it is done and everyone in critical condition has been or is currently being attended to, she sees Iida talking to an official in dark uniform. His posture is stiff as though receiving bad news. She calls his name when he walks past but does not hear it. There is a blankness and silent rage that frightens her so she does not follow. Uraraka and Shinsou and his real friends are nearby. They'll help him.

There is someone who needs, if not a friend, then a friendly face.

-TDB-

Katsuki Bakugou awakens in pain. His right arm is a burning line of pain. He grits his teeth through the pain, fights through the haze of darkness, and opens his eyes fully. The darkness he thinks might be another layer of unconsciousness turns out to be the nighttime sky.

He is on a stretcher, one of many. There are rows upon rows of stretchers filled with people with injuries ranging from simple head wounds to significant burns. The only unifying factor amongst them is that they are all relatively stabilised. No one, even the person who is more bandage than thick red fur, needs any further attention at the moment.

Katsuki looks to his arm in a temporary sling. It is bandaged heavily, specks of red dotting it. He tentatively twitches a finger and feels a line of pain explode through the arm.

"Fuck!"

It is his dominant arm, already dislocated this morning and recently crushed by rubble. He doesn't know how well he will recover, can't even guess if they're just holding off on amputating it until a later date when the stadium doesn't still have pockets of fire and everyone has been sorted and sent to the hospital.

"Hey, you, don't do that." Katsuki looks to the side and sees a man in a luminescent vest that has a bright red cross and the Caduceus sign. "We just stopped the bleeding. Don't make it any worse."

The more he looks, the more people he can see in the same medical vests. There are dozens of police officers and more pro heroes that he remembers when the Sports Festival began.

"Will I lose it?" he asks, voice breaking at the idea.

He knows he has done some shitty things and doesn't deserve the forgiveness and kindness so freely given, but it doesn't change how he feels. He wants to be a hero and he doesn't know if he can become one without an arm.

"Look at me," the medic orders. "You'll need to go through surgery, and you might have issues with mobility and feeling in that arm. But you aren't losing it, you hear?"

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, relief gripping him in its cool embrace. The medic reaches for something in his pouch and hands Katsuki two pills.

"Take those for the pain. And don't try to leave until we give you permission or we'll sedate you."

"You can fucking try," he snaps without any heat.

The medic rolls his eyes. "You'll be just fine, kid."

"Don't call me that," he mutters to the retreating medic.

He looks around and spots some of his classmates helping. The fucking crow and the zombie and Uraraka are all helping move supplies from one tent to a group of medics operating under chemical lighting. It is only then that he notices the scent of illness and death, so pervasive before that it was indistinguishable from the gust of fresh air that cleanses the foul air.

"Bakugou."

He glances over his shoulder and sees the mother of fucking creation herself. "The fuck you want bitch?"

She falters, her smiles dying a bit. He only feels guilty for a moment until he remembers he has a crushed arm and can be as spiteful as he likes.

It's not like anyone expects anything other than a violent, brash thug.

I'll be the villain in your story if it'll make you feel better. I deserve it anyway.

Yaoyorozu looks him over, her gaze lingering on his arm. She does so in silence, taking her time. It leaves him nervous.

"You wanna say something or leave me the fuck alone?"

"I'm trying to figure out why Midoriya has so much faith in you," she says after another beat of silence.

He scoffs.

It always comes back to him.

Everything that makes Katsuki who he is, the melting pot of anger and determination and regrets so deep it is invisible, all of it is tied to Izuku in one way or another.

There's a mess of emotions that his therapist keeps poking and prodding at which only ever seems to leave him raw and angrier than ever. And sometimes in tears, screaming at her. Somehow, she thinks that's progress.

"Because he's a bleeding-heart pansy with no sense of preservation," he says angrily, putting the walls up. He refuses to let her see how shaken he is.

She laughs which shocks him. It is a quiet thing, the only spot of happiness amongst the injured in the shadow of a broken stadium, and it stuns him that she can still find amusement in someone who is broken and violent and not worthy of kindness.

Why the fuck are you here?

"I can't really argue with that. But I think you might not be a bad person." That makes him freeze. "You saved me twice so far."

He swallows. Forces his jaw to work again. Says, "Bitch, what are you smoking?"

She raises a brow. "At USJ. You took a knife to the shoulder for me when you could have just blown everything up."

He clenches his fist regardless that his arm hurts worse for it.

"It was the simplest and most efficient strategy," he grits out. "And I dodged in the wrong fucking direction."

"Funny, that's what Midoriya said about the Battle Trial." She nods at his arm. "And just now you did it again."

"I was fucking delirious after having a giant rock dropped on my broken arm. Besides, I couldn't fucking trust any of those other shitty side characters to make sure I didn't die like a stupid ass plot device. Stop trying to find some altruism in my actions."

"I think you're trying to be a good person."

Doesn't matter how hard I try.

"And I think you're a bitch who won't leave me alone."

Someone twists his ear violently. He startles and bats the hand away, nearly falling off his stretcher.

"You need to stop calling women that," Jirou says, completely unrepentant.

Bakugou stares at her for a moment. Who the hell did she think she is to just touch him like that?

"You're a cunt. Is that any fucking better?"

"I think if we stuck you and Midoriya together we might get a normal human being instead of the emotional wrecks you two are."

"I am not an emotional wreck," he roars.

"You'd get a mess of bad emotions and stupid actions," Jirou says. "So, you wouldn't really change anything. They're foils for each other."

"No, you do not get to steal my fucking story tropes. You keep your dirty whore hands away from that shit."

-TDB-

"Welcome home, good shadow."

Those are the first words he hears when they enter the next layer. He smells blood in the air, some fresh as a newly spilt arterial blood, and some rotting yet cloyingly sweet.

They are in something of a grand cathedral, a place of worship to the gods of the cosmos. The ceilings are high, and the idols of the gods are startlingly tame, only the slightest hints of insight necessary to see them. It is all rather mundane compared to the memetic nightmares and infectious logic plagues. He might be tempted to think they are in the real world if not for the dark assurance they have dozens of layers to ascend.

That, and the pale woman floating before the beast on the throne. Her hair is cascading waves of liquid silver and her eyes the grey of a frozen wasteland.

Todoroki is stiff beneath Izuku, his entire body tense and ready to bolt. He can see the familial resemblance and grieves what will come. This world is blood and cruelty and sacrifice. But it will not be Izuku's sacrifice.

This isn't really his journey any longer.

It never was, Mikumo says. We're all parts of his story now.

"She's an ally," he whispers to Todoroki as the woman approaches, gliding across the stone floor.

"Come, you need garb befitting you, good shadow."

He prods Todoroki to follow her and the boy does so in shock, his movements stiff.

She takes them to a side chamber past the beast on its throne. She stitches their tattered gym clothes and incorporates them in the garb of what they wear in this dream, leather cloaks and metal armbands. He thinks he looks ridiculous but her touch is tender and without pity as she bathes and dresses him. It is the first time he has felt clean in a long time, and he feels safe in her arms.

Something in the way of Todoroki's bearing shatters at her gentle actions, almost as if the past has returned to haunt him. It sickens Izuku to know he must be part and party to what is to come.

"Seek the altar of despair and ascend the astral clocktower," she says when they are dressed, the warrior and the cripple bound together in this nightmare. "Free us from this eternal nightmare."

/Fulfil the deals of your kinsmen. Prepare him well for what must come, good shadow/

Those words belong only to him. Todoroki cannot hear them. He isn't ready yet to hear the alien speech of the abyss.

And so, they journey through a world of blood and eternal misery.

They fight a saint stained in the blood of those he hunted, less a single conscience and more an amalgamation of crimson and hate and fury. Todoroki sends waves of ice and gouts of flame, never standing still for more than a moment until finally, the monster falls still.

And then it stands, returned to life once more, a glowing blade burning with the light of the cosmos in one hand, and pure enlightenment in its many eyes. The fight only becomes more frantic and Izuku hates how useless he is, stuck with making callouts of the saint's actions. Every blow is designed to cleave them in half, every kick powerful enough to crush stone.

When the saint finally falls, Todoroki breathes harshly. They are both bathed in blood from head to toe. Izuku rubs Todoroki's shoulders until he can move past this slaughter, this act of taking life from one who spoke mortal words deep in the throes of madness.

Todoroki walks to the skull and incinerates it and the moonlight blade. In this blood-soaked chamber with the souls of the damned still howling there should be no peace. Yet, somehow, Todoroki reminds him of a still pool reflecting the stars in the sky.

Their guide returns, ethereal and haunting. Her hair forever reminds him of spun silver and her eyes are the coldest grey of the Arctic. She tells them to venture forth and find the astral clocktower. They continue onwards past dungeons filled with nightmares of men gone wrong and children of the cosmos.

Todoroki sets him down a few hours later at the base of a staircase. Izuku shifts his legs to a more comfortable position as Todoroki makes ice for them to drink. He takes the opportunity to bandage the many wounds his legs have received but that he has yet to feel. One if infected, a long line of barbs growing along his thigh.

Izuku swallows thickly and reaches for a knife. He plunges it deep in his thigh and excises the infection. And when that is done, Todoroki cauterises it with his flames.

"She looks like my mother," Todoroki says, pale and shaking after what they have just done.

Izuku looks up towards where they must go to unveil the secrets of this world and unlock the next waypoint. "I'm sorry."

"What aren't you telling me?"

He smiles sadly at Todoroki, feeling the weight of Todoroki's story enslave him. Perhaps under different circumstances, he would be able to spare his friend the pain.

"It'll weaken your resolve to know now," he says in a deep voice. "There is a time for every season and a clock for every measure of time. In my crystal bones and eternal shadow, I know it is not your time yet."

"You're being more dramatic than usual."

Izuku extends his arms theatrically, hoping Todoroki understands. "In this place, the theatre of a thing is just as important as the nature of the beast. And it is all I can do. I'm a passenger you don't want, the final train to nowhere."

Todoroki carries him through a place of tainted research where nightmares bottled in bone casks have gone awry and mutated the monsters even further. Todoroki's yellow and sickly flames have no mercy for the patients here and they soon make it to the garden, a single tree stretching toward infinity in the centre.

They are caught off guard by the first meteorite and the shambling mistakes that summon them. Izuku is ready to expend what little control of the shadow he has to stop the attack.

"Enough," Todoroki whispers.

Flames spread outward from him, and from these flames, a shade of red closer to black, hands rise out, fighting past earth to grasp their attackers. He sees whispers of the enemies Todoroki has killed, revenants made real for a moment as they grab at the living failures and drag them down to a world of internal flame and suffering.

Izuku stays silent for the long moment it takes Todoroki to regain control of his breathing. The boy is tense underneath the leathers, his neck muscles taut and strained.

His flames consecrate everything they burn in his image, Mikumo explains. Naraka, a place of torment. That is his personal hell.

"Hellfire," Izuku says eventually, using language Todoroki will understand. "Everything you've killed—"

"Don't," Todoroki snaps.

Do you remember the truths you were given by Eao?

"Everything you've cleansed in your flames finds it's way to a world of flame and torment. I thought your heart might be brittle ice, but I think it might just be fire eternal."

"If you don't shut up right now, I'm leaving you."

Izuku shakes his head. "You burn so brightly, Todoroki. But you feel just as much. I'm sorry for what you must do."

The glare at each other for a few minutes. Eventually, Izuku looks away, conceding this argument. With one arm, Todoroki picks him up, careful not to hurt his leg any further.

Todoroki opens the large doors before them and they ascend the clocktower.

It is a chamber lit by ethereal light streaming from the glass clockface taking up an entire wall. A single person sits in the chair, pale as an angel, and almost as haunting.

The person raises her head, grey streaked with red, and says, "You should leave a corpse well enough alone, Shouto."

"Fuyumi," Shouto whispers, reaching out as if he can cross the distance between them with intent alone.

Izuku reaches over and slaps the hand down. The sound echoes in the clocktower, reverberating through old wood and the ethereal foundations.

"That's not your sister. It's a dream of blood and fire made for you alone. That chair is an altar of this world's despair. Free her from this nightmare."

The battle tears the hall apart, gouges from the fake Fuyumi's blade taking out chunks of the wall and Shouto's flesh. Ice covers the ground and fire from both their attacks meet in the centre, corrosive stream of strange entropic effects eating through the walls and ceiling.

The battle is fast, and some of this world's strangeness fills Todoroki as he quickens past blades of blood. He becomes faster and faster till he is a blur, dancing between blows. Had he been alone, he may have come out unscathed. But with Izuku on his back, he takes dozens of blows.

Eventually, Todoroki throws him to the side and makes a barrier of ice to keep him safe from the battle as it intensifies.

When it is done, the fake Fuyumi is trapped in a layer of ice and Todoroki covered in blood. He sways tiredly, almost toppling over.

"I wish you had just killed her," Izuku says after Todoroki retrieves him. "This would have been so much easier."

"Midoriya, don't you dare make this any worse."

Izuku looks to the still twitching Fuyumi clone, seeing all that she is. Another fucking metaphor, he thinks bitterly, but unable to say those words.

"I said it was an altar of this world's despair. You've cleansed this world in hellfire and entropic ice. This world is yours now by right of bloody conquest. Now, you must bathe the altar in her blood and unlock the way to the nightmare's source."

Izuku is thrown hard to the ground. He gasps, shocked and in mild pain from the ice shards on the ground that stab him.

Todoroki stands over him, wrath in every hard line. There is fire wreathing him and he looks so much like Endeavour that it hurts, tall and imposing and cruel.

"Why does it have to be this!" Todoroki screams, his voice cracking at the end. "She's looks and sounds like my sister."

"She is a metaphor of your attachments. You must kill her to be free of this world that represents your past."

"This. Is not. My past!"

"It is. This world is a nightmare of the past and this world belongs to your soul now. Blood is the only currency of this world." He raises a hand and fails to summon even a wisp of shadow. "I'm sorry, Shouto, truly I am. If I could, I would take this burden from you."

Maybe it is his honesty, not a single lie has he spoken to Shouto since they came to this place. Maybe Shouto is changing, or being changed, by this world and becoming more like it. Perhaps a part of him understands what it means to survive in the cruelty of the abyss.

Regardless, Shouto walks to the creature that looks like his sister. Every step echoes in the clocktower, filling the air with dread and finality.

"I thought you loved me," Fuyumi whispers, her voice lilting and enthralling.

Shouto picks up her broken sword.

"I love you."

He slices her throat.

Deep red arterial blood gushes forth, more than a human should have, and drenches Shouto. He lets the ice fade away and drags the corpse towards the chair. On this altar of his despair, Shouto sacrifices someone who looks and speaks and feels like his sister. In this world of metaphor and intent, it is the same as doing it in the real.

The clock unwinds, and a glass pane vanishes. Shouto grabs Izuku and hoists him over his shoulder. Izuku doesn't comment on the thick and sticky blood, its smell cloying and tempting. Instead, he points to a spot where the nightmare must end.

A highway of ice forms over the fishing hamlet and they skate across it, avoiding the giants and fish people down below.

"I'll have to kill her, won't I?"

Izuku tightens his grip around Shouto. "Yes. Renewal and undeath are much the same here. We've passed through a… rebirth of sorts for you. There are more to come."

"I hate this."

"I'd be worried if you didn't."

There, where sand meets water is a dead godling. As they approach, something emerges from it.

Man-like in basic shape, it wields the umbilical cord of its parent as a weapon. Shouto battles the new god. It becomes stronger and more ferocious the longer the fight goes on, shifting from simple physical attacks to calling on the power of celestial bodies for brief moments. All that falters against Shouto's ice that accelerates entropy and his dread flame that has consumed world's in its insatiable hunger.

Soon, after a battle that lasts most of a day, the orphan falls still. It dissolves down to a crystal umbilical cord. "Consume of—"

"Shut up."

Izuku does so as Shouto takes the umbilical cord. There are eyes on it with insight into the cosmos. Shouto eats it and shudders, hunching over in pain. Izuku can't be certain of what understanding he comes to, can't be certain of what abominable knowledge his classmate learns. All he knows is that there must be a cost.

He masters himself in short order and walks to the godling's corpse. That mastery is a mask to protect himself from this nightmare.

The woman who has the appearance of his mother stands on the water, materialising in a shimmer of light.

"It is time. Good shadow, have you prepared him? Have you fulfilled the deals of your kin?"

"Yes," Izuku whispers.

She looks to Shouto. "Then you whose heart is of flame, do what must be done."

Shouto sets him down on the sand and walks towards his mother. She takes his hands and brings them to her neck. "It must be your choice to consecrate this nightmare."

Shouto squeezes.

It is long and drawn out as he chokes the life out of his mother. His tears are silent and when he is done, he drops her corpse in the water. The waves carry her body away past the horizon, and when the sun and water and her corpse meet, Shouto sets fire to the ocean. The flames spread and touch the sky and land and fabric of this nightmare.

The cruelty of this mad world burns away and the pathway to the next level of the abyss opens.

"How long have we been here?" His voice is ice and glacial cruelty, a well of hate reserved purely for the one he speaks to.

Izuku takes Shouto's extended hand and doesn't complain when Shouto roughly throws him off his shoulder. Together, they walk past a burning workshop.

This world is ending and there is nothing left for them here. The battles have been fought and Shouto has emerged different than he was.

"Maybe three weeks." He grins though it will not be seen. "I lost track two levels ago."

-TDB-

Enji Todoroki looks to the children behind him, equal parts shocked and terrified. A blonde boy with a tail he has seen before somewhere and the girl with green hair from the quarter-final; and others still he doesn't recognise. They haven't fully processed what has happened. He knows that confusion, remembers when he first saw the world change irrevocably and could not understand why—the day his flames first manifested and he lost control after seeing what should not be seen.

He plants his feet before the deep thrum of the explosive shockwave reaches them. He does not topple over when the ground shakes and wobbles. No, he is as immobile as his wall of flame holding back the concussive force of the blast.

When the initial shockwave fades, he looks back to the children. Fear grips their faces and he feels the slightest twinge of sorrow. They are not ready. They do not know to fear.

"Get up," he commands for he has no other choice.

He lets the wall of fire fade. Beyond is the devastation of shattered walls and crumbling ceiling, concrete slabs and red-hot shards of metal on the floor. He doesn't think of the body count. Any number above zero will be too high regardless.

"I said get up," he snaps when they hesitate. "None of you are injured. All of you are students at UA. Now get up and prove your worth."

That shames and galvanises them in equal measure. There is a place for cruelty even if All Might will never agree. Society may one day find out all he has done to teach his son to fear the flames, the ruin that is his family, but he will sleep with the certainty that his actions are right.

The arena is behind them. He can see past the walls and senses the burning flame that he associates with All Might. "Help in the rescue operations."

"Where are you going?" the blonde asks.

Enji glares at him. "To find the one responsible. My powers are not suited for rescue operations."

The boy nods once. "Yes, sir."

Enji turns away from them as they head towards the stadium and lets flame cover his eyes. Like this, he can sense more than just simple heat. He searches for stains and residues of passion, the heat of cruel crimes. There, a sickly purple flame he has come to think of as calculated murder over his decades as a hero.

He follows it through the bowels of the stadium, incinerating rubble and steel doors with contemptuous ease. Where he can, he helps trapped civilians and students escape. But they are not his focus. No, this isn't an attack organised by an anti-quirk extremist. No, the attack has been too surgical, the loss of life to restrained for it to be anything other than an attack by a well-organised villain group.

He heads through a tunnel, not on any maps. It leads directly outside the stadium. He looks around. This is the areas Kamui Woods was stationed to. The hero in question is busy holding the superstructure of the stadium together.

Endeavour chases the smudges of purple fire through the forest. This ability is why he has the highest tally of solved cases. He senses things that others cannot see, feels the fires of old crimes and tracks them relentlessly.

In the corner of his vision, he sees something thin and mobile. He doesn't hesitate and sends a wave of fire to block off the exist. The person switches direction but Endeavour fires off a dozen lances of fire to block the villain.

"You're trapped," he says when all avenues of escape have been burnt away.

The villain whose body remains unravelled only laughs. "I've already won."

Endeavour intensifies his flames and makes a cage around the villain. "Turn back or be burnt."

The villain returns to his standard form. Enji blinks because he looks like a child no older than seventeen, still with a few vestiges of boyish fat. He wears the uniform of a security guard from the festival. He even has the ID badge that even Enji would fail to forge with his numerous connections.

"Not what you were expecting," the boy says, indifferent to the cage of fire around him.

"Who are you?"

The boy tilts his head curiously. "Oh, just a former UA student. You can call me Nagisa."

-TDB-

Toshinori Yagi toils ceaselessly as All Might, never resting for more than the moment it takes to identify the next location to help. He removes rubble and metal with imposing strength, and aids people with impossible gentleness, his smile perpetually giving hope.

He has done this before and knows the trauma of what it may bring. He does not shed tears when he finds a little girl no older than three crushed beneath rubble with her fathers. It may hurt to remove a sidekick from the rubble whose legs will have to be amputated at the triage centres Cementoss builds with his powers. And it may make whatever happiness he's built over the last year vanish to see his students carted off in stretchers.

He lets none of his grief and despair show. He is All Might, the shining pillar of a society and he can never falter. To falter is to admit that society is fragile and that an attack like this can shake it to its very core.

He directs his students, those physically—and mentally, he amends, after Rikido Sato breaks down crying over the corpse of a girl close to his age—able to help in setting up the triage tents and organising the evacuation. Iida and Ochaco fall into a natural system of organising everyone they can. Shinsou joins them after his hand missing a finger is bandaged. The police are a great help in monitoring them, and even the few members of the Imperial Household still alive provide aid as well.

Young Yaoyorozu helps lead a group of her peers out of the rubble and All Might feels proud. They are battered and weary, and all too likely traumatised, but they show strength and unity. He lets Yaoyorozu, Jirou and Kaminari carry Bakugou to a triage centre without interrupting them. He hopes Young Bakugou's arm will heal fully. Then he remembers Bakugou's ferocity and sheer drive to prove himself the best. That injury won't put him down for more than a few weeks. And even if it proved permanent, he knows Bakugou will find a way around it.

It is a relief to see Tokoyami alongside the parents. Inko Midoriya looks tired and bloody and about ready to collapse, but she is with his teach Jin, and Bakugou's parents so he has no worries for her. No, it is Tokoyami he worries for. The boy stands with his father as his mother—a woman with the head of a hawk—is carted over with substantial injuries. It is never easy seeing a close relative or friend injured. But there is a strength to the boy, and he proves All Might right by helping Iida and Shinsou.

There comes a time when the authorities have things in hand and there is little All Might can do to help. In fact, his presence becomes a distraction, so he excuses himself to a small room he finds. Ostensibly it is to fill out a preliminary action report. And he does write out the report. But mostly it is to allow himself time to recover from the experience.

All Might sighs, ready to let his power fade and become who he truly is. This day has made him weary, his smile stiff and his soul despondent.

The door opens before his power fades. Endeavour enters, no fire shroud covering his body. The man's gaze is indifferent, assessing.

"You look like shit."

All Might snorts. "You look no better."

"This shouldn't have happened. This is the kind of security failure that'll have people screaming for heads to roll."

"People will blame the villains responsible."

"Even if it's a former UA student?"

All Might closes his eyes. He knows the villain responsible for much of this is one of Aizawa's expelled students. Still, it changes nothing.

"He made that choice of his own free will. He could have chosen to live a good life even if he never became a hero. This was his choice and his alone."

And very likely All For One drove him to this.

"How much of what he became is because he was left to drift without guidance? Children are fools without constant observation."

He thinks of Bakugou, and how Midoriya asked if they would shoulder the burden were he to become a villain. His words seem so poignant now. This is the scenario his successor so feared for Bakugou taken to an extreme.

"We do what we can and hope they take our good traits when they succeed us."

"Relying on a successor is a fool's gambit."

"The future generation will always be stronger than us. They have the lessons we teach, our experiences and knowledge. And they have their own strength. They can learn to smile and be strong even when they are weak."

"What strength do you have when you simply parrot Nana Shimura." His smile cracks slightly, not having expected that attack again so soon. "That was cruel of me."

He pauses, assessing Endeavour. The man isn't one to apologise. Even now, he doesn't offer an actual apology. But it's as close as it comes.

"It was," All Might says, accepting the apology.

"Perhaps your successor can learn your lessons and benefit from them."

All Might stills, blood-chilling in his veins. A heavy weight settles in the back of his throat, and the scar on his side seems to flair in pain. Endeavour isn't someone he trusts to know this secret and from experience, not someone you can coerce.

"Don't have one," he lies, taking a page out of Izuku's book.

"Izuku Midoriya," the bastard says, killing any hope of maintaining the lie. "I know. I've always been able to see the flame of your power, All Might. I know it's dying in you and growing strong in him. I've always been able to see the shadow of your flame, even when you don't have your power active."

He grits his teeth so hard he fears they will break.

"What will you do about it?"

"Nothing. Does it change anything?" Endeavour sits, tired as well. "My son is a fool. I tried to teach him to fear the flames and not reach for them. I don't know if he ever learnt that lesson."

"But why? Fire burns, yes, but any quirk can hurt its user. And he was so powerful when he used it."

Endeavour scoffs. "Not powerful enough to beat MIdoriya. Is this a cycle that will continue long after we're gone?"

"It doesn't have to be."

"Fear the flame for it will burn you. I always told Shouto that. I never told him that only when you fear something, when you truly respect it, will you be able to control it. I had hoped he might understand it in time. The first time he really used his fire, he nearly broke the world."

All Might tilts his head at the way Endeavour phrases that. "Children are more resilient than you think. They heal from things that would break us."

"Do they really? Or do they just hide the cracks better?" Endeavour stands. "I hope my son is strong enough for what comes next?"

"I hope so too."

"You should. Without him, I don't think Midoriya will make it." All Might frowns. "You really should check the missing person's report."

When Endeavour is gone, and he is alone once more, All Might checks the report. Izuku Midoriya's name is there and linked to Shouto Todoroki. The two were in Chiyo's office based on the video archives minutes before the explosions. And now both are gone, not a trace of their presence remains.

He feels his heartbreak once more. Steels his soul against what may come. Becomes All Might once more.