Memories

It's… cold.

That was the first thing Izuku noticed, well, apart from standing in an almost blank space. Everything was white, top to bottom, except for him, of course. Whenever he takes a couple of steps forward in the said white space, nothing seems to be happening.

Is he even moving? He knows he's walking, but his senses are very, very confused. He sighed, seeing that walking is futile, halting on his steps. Looking around, he placed a finger under his chin and started mumbling, "Hm… afterlife, maybe? I died? Well, if I did die… where's everyone else? Oh, yeah… Miku? It seems like her quirk failed to send me… huh… but it shouldn't fail, right? I mean, it is Miku I'm talking about… but if I really did die then…—"

He paused as soon as he felt something drip on his head. He froze as the cold liquid trail down to his cheeks, dropping on the white floor. He slowly looked down, eyes locking on a crimson red liquid that was quick to cover the once white ground. He looked up without fail, trembling as he met familiar gazes.

Kacchan, Ochaco, Shoto, Kyoka, Momo… everyone was up there, standing upside-down on the ceiling, seemingly reaching out to him with their bloodied hands. Some doesn't have their complete limbs, some were even rotting. They stared down at him with sadness and disappointment lingering on their faces.

The look on Izuku's face was horrid. He paled, colour draining from him as his eyes started to produce never ending tears of regret. He failed everyone—that must be it. They had so much fate put onto him, all looking forward to a new future with the so called Rising Symbol of Peace. But he failed them. He got them killed, protecting someone unworthy to even live.

He believes that he's the person to blame for their deaths. He doesn't have anyone to prove him otherwise… or so he thought. Feeling a familiar sensation, his eyes widened as a luminescent light appear in front of him, its figure forming as though it's cupping his cheeks and leaning its forehead onto his. It wiped his tears off of his face, its blurred face smiling at him.

Then, he woke up with a cold sweat, tossing the blanket that once covered him and quickly closing his eyes immediately after for the sunlight had surprised him. Wait— 'Sunlight?' He thought, slowly opening his eyes again, blinking away as to confirm whatever he's seeing.

The light rays went through the gaps between white curtains, hitting his pale skin gently. It has been too long when he had last seen the sun shining through the land. Back in war time, dust and pollution had covered the sun's mighty rays, limiting them with dim lights to work with. It wasn't really a con, and, in fact, the darkness helped them to sneak about around the villains' base when needed, but, it really was been far too long since the sunny warmth had touched him.

It was unbelievable. A small smile and a spark of hope appeared on his face. He gently let the warmth linger on his skin, taking time to regain the warmth he thought he wouldn't be able to feel again. "It worked, Miku…" His soft voice cracked, tears escaping his eyes, "I'm… alive…"

Sure, he'd rather prefer to remain dead, but if being dead means sulking in a blank space and having guilty thoughts, he'd take a life back again to settle things straight and fulfil a promise. Though, he's not really ready to complete the promise yet. The war time is still fresh from his mind, after all. It literally had just been yesterday for him, and coming back to a now peaceful world that he really isn't used to is going to take a lot of time to adjust.

Like an alert hero he is, he narrowed his eyes and turned his head swiftly when the door to the room gently swung open. He was used to be being attentive, so when someone came in, he was gone in an instant, appearing on top of the short, corner bookshelf at the end of the room, cautiously eyeing the person who came in. From his slow reaction, he thought to himself, 'Had I gone that rusty?'

To be fair, he just woke up so it's reasonable that his senses has been dulled. Also, if he weren't so deep in thought, he might've picked up that someone's coming a few seconds earlier.

"Woah—" The person who came in raised his hands in a surrendering manner, appearing as calmly as he could to not startle the mysterious boy any sooner. "Though I am wondering how you're standing with your current state right now, I think this might be a great opportunity to introduce you to someone who might actually be familiar to you." Ectoplasm, Izuku finally recognised him, spoke in a fair tone.

The boy tilted his head, wondering who could the person he'd be familiar with in this world. He started to panic, mumbling even in his thoughts, 'Did they found out already? If, so, it's soon. I didn't even had the time to do anything, and they already discovered that I'm from the unknown future—' He halted as a familiar set of lazy eyes stared back at his tired ones.

Shōta Aizawa stepped in.

A living Aizawa.

A… moving, non-rotting Eraser Head.

Izuku couldn't believe it really. One time the person's dead, and now, he's standing there—breathing. He held his head with one hand and the other clutched onto his chest.

The images of the said hero getting torn in half is still fresh in his mind. He clearly remembers how the hero shielded him, taking that blow that was supposed to be his. They were still with Kacchan… Todoroki-kun… and Miku when all of that happened. It was too fast for them to react quickly. All for One had swiped an attack with no remorse, spilling all the blood and gore from the person who had been guiding them from the beginning.

They didn't have the time to react.

They didn't get the chance to save him.

Shōta narrowed his eyes at the boy who stood frozen on top of the bookshelf. He's hyperventilating, he knows that for sure. "Oi, oi. Ectoplasm—the boy's gonna fall." He warned in his lazy tone, but it was evident that he was also worried. What was it that triggered the young boy's… trauma? He looked so pale and tired of everything, like, he's about to tip over any second, but he's there, standing still and managing to stand and hold himself together while hyperventilating.

Well, it looked like he's trying to keep himself together, whoever he is.

When the boy was about to tip forwards, Ectoplasm cloned himself and helped to catch the boy in his arms. The said boy was incredibly light. He carried the boy before, but he's not going to get used to the young boy's light weight any time soon. It's just… the boy's pretty muscular and one won't expect for him to be incredibly light.

Now that the young man's cleaner and not bathing in his own blood nor in any filth, he can actually see why he's so light. The bone on his cheeks are definitely showing through his skin, and his body? Man, he could definitely feel the young man's ribs through the light clothes the hospital gave him.

Placing the young man back to his bed, Ectoplasm backed up, looking at him with concern. Aizawa, too, was concerned about the young man, who's now lying on the bed with sweat. They don't really know why there's a faint sense of familiarity lingering around the boy, but it's there.

A clone of Ectoplasm then came in with a glass of water, giving it to the young man.

Izuku gladly took the water, drinking it slowly to calm himself down. Though reacting like that is very reasonable, it's not very good for him. It's definitely stressing him out more than anyone else. His sanity maybe going down at this moment. "I'm going insane…" he breathed, shivering as he gripped the now empty glass with his hands, causing it to shatter in his hands. 'Definitely.'

He gritted his teeth as he stared at his bleeding hands. He really didn't pay much attention to the two pro heroes panicking over the glass he just shattered, them calling for a nurse, or someone just to treat him and clean up the mess. His mind is too occupied with the horrendous memories of the people dying in his hands.

He's still in shock, really. He knows he had travelled back in time with his supposedly young successor's help, but his mind still can't process everything in one go. To think that another life was spent just for him to survive, in another timeline too, is just… to know that people's lives were spent just for him to get here is… it's traumatising.

Even in this timeline, someone, somewhere in the far future, is rooting for him—it's a great pressure for him. The one thing he could ever thank about over everything is that… he's alive.

He should be thankful… He should be… But why does it hurt to be alive?

Is it because he knows what will happen in the future?

Is it because he knows that everyone will die?

Is it because he knows, deep inside him, that no one's there to tell him that it's going to be alright?

Is it because he knows that… he's alone?

Izuku Midoriya. He knows what he had to do in order to make things straight—but he doesn't know how. He doesn't know where to start... he doesn't know how to start.

He placed his bleeding hands onto his head, tears spilling from his eyes. A shaking smile ran over his lips as he laughed silently, then it soon became louder and louder, his anxiety, fear and paranoia growing steadfast. He gripped onto his fluffy hair, not minding the shards of glass in his hands to dig deeper, for it rather feels good for him. The pain feels rather energising.

He's definitely going insane. No questions about that.

Nurses flocked into the room, with Ectoplasm and Eraser Head behind. They heard the young man's insane, pitying laughter. It somehow resembled a cry, a cry that was meant to reach someone, someone who could, who can help him. It sounded as though he had went through so much that he's past his limit.

The young man sounded so broken.

Prying his hands that was gripped onto his hair tightly off, the nurses jumped into action and restrained the young man before they continued to treat his bleeding hands any further. They had to be extra careful to not reopen any other deep wounds located in his arms and body as the young man had just came out of the operating room an hour earlier. The nurses too had many questions as to how the young man can stand and, moreover, be fully conscious—but those can wait.

For now, they just need to treat him and not get distracted by his handsome face. A shame, really. He's one of those attractive type… he'd be more handsome if he put on more weight and… maybe minus his insanity too.

After successfully taking out all of the tiniest shards of glass from his hands and wrapping them, they had to inject him something to calm him down. It was effective for the first few seconds, but it seems like the young man's fighting the effects of the sedative, tired, red eyes fighting over the sleepiness.

He just sat there, leaning his back onto the pile of pillows behind him, staring emptily at his bandaged hands, as if he's in deep thought about something. The shaking smile that was once shown from his face disappeared like it was nothing, and it was replaced with a lost yet neutral expression.

It's true. Izuku calmed down a bit. He's still on the verge of tipping over to the insane side, just about standing on a thin thread, but he's managing. He thought back for a moment, thinking that this isn't the time to sulk over and go insane over something that he could actually fix, now that he's back to where things are just about starting. Well, things already started, but he still has the time to fix something.

He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, recollecting his thoughts. He then took a swift look at the living Shōta Aizawa sitting on a chair across the room, dropping a quick smile when he looked back.

Maybe fixing things now wouldn't hurt.