Chapter 29

"—and I don't know, I just… that was it, for me."

Izuku stares up at the sky, feeling the grass tickle at the back of his neck. The clouds move slowly above him, thin and wispy in the early summer. His back itches, from the grass or the damp shirt pressed against his back, but he doesn't move. His mouth feels dry, even though he just took a drink.

"I-I'm not—it wasn't just—" He tries to continue, but he just can't find a good way to say it. "I weighed my options. Or… I tried to, at least. A-and I thought of a couple ideas to win, o-or at least… the beginnings of ideas. But they all—they all depended on getting Bakugou to work with me, and I just didn't know how to do that. Because I already tried, and I didn't—" I didn't want him to hit me again. He doesn't say that. It's too embarrassing to admit that allowed, especially in the company he's currently keeping. "I couldn't figure it out, and I knew I only had so much time before All-Might came looking for me. So I left. Bakugou went to try and fight All-Might, and I went straight to the gate."

There's no answer for a while. Izuku can imagine what Uraraka might say, or Iida. They would reassure him and sympathize, whether or not they really approved—Uraraka would side with him for sure, and Iida might point out that they, of all people, ought to know the good sense in running from a hopeless fight. But Iida and Uraraka aren't here right now. His classmates decided to give "study group" another try after summer break, to give Iida time to organize their ground rules, if nothing else. So it's just him and Todoroki again, like it used to be, and how he'll take this is anyone's guess.

Sympathy isn't Todoroki's strong suit. Izuku can see how much he struggles with putting that sort of thing on display, and that his experiences have left him with lopsided standards for what is and isn't acceptable. Besides that, he has over ten years of punching bag treatment to Izuku's five, and he still finds the strength to face Endeavor every day.

So maybe Izuku could have picked a better sympathetic ear among his school friends, but Todoroki is here and trustworthy and Izuku could do a lot worse, too.

"Do you think less of me?" He tries to keep his voice neutral, as if he's commenting on the shape of the clouds.

"No," Todoroki answers readily enough.

It's so immediate and characteristically blunt that "Really?" slips out before Izuku can think of an actual response.

He can hear Todoroki shifting in the grass, uncrossing his legs to keep his feet from falling asleep. "Did you expect me to?"

"N-no?" It comes out too hesitant for Izuku to simply brush it off. "Maybe. I don't know. I guess I thought it'd take you longer to decide, if the answer was no." He hesitates, swallowing in the hopes of dealing with his dry throat. "So you don't think I should have stuck it out?"

"That's not what you asked," Todoroki replies.

Izuku cranes his neck to look at him. "It isn't?"

"I don't know what your situation is, or why you and Bakugou don't get along," Todoroki tells him. "If you think you could have done better, then that's fine. You know better than I do. But you asked me if I thought less of you for it, and I don't."

"I could have done more," Izuku admits.

"Then do more, next time," Todoroki replies, simple as that. He pauses, and Izuku finally shifts over to see his friend sitting with his knees to his chest, picking at the grass at his feet. "Though—" He hesitates again. "You were the one who told me that avoiding things that hurt you isn't weakness, weren't you?"

"Only if I have a choice—"

"You did," Todoroki says. "So did Bakugou, and he made it. Not your fault it was a crap choice."

Izuku huffs out a laugh and sits up, wincing when cool air touches his back. "Yeah, it was a pretty terrible plan."

"I wouldn't go that far. Technically it worked."

At this, Izuku jerks his head around to stare at him in confusion. "Huh?"

"You said his plan was to lead All-Might around by the nose while you stayed out of the way," Todoroki points out. "I don't see why he's so upset—you followed his plan exactly, and it worked."

Izuku laughs. It starts as a surprised little short, and in the next moment he's curling over and wheezing a little because honestly, he never thought of it that way. It's not a justification that Bakugou would ever accept, not in a million years, but Izuku will take it. And it's consolation coming from Todoroki, which somehow makes it mean more.

"Ready to go again?" Todoroki asks, once he's done.

"Sure, gimme a second." Izuku retrieves his water bottle for one more drink. "Just a couple more rounds, I think. I don't want to be too tired for tomorrow."

Todoroki blinks at him for a moment before he seems to remember. "Ah. You're taking Kirishima up on his invitation?"

"Yeah." Izuku allows himself an excited little grin. "I don't think I've ever hung out at the mall with friends before."

"Oh," Todoroki says awkwardly, and Izuku remembers that Todoroki probably hasn't hung out at the mall with friends before, either. "Well, have fun."

"You're not coming?" Izuku tries not to sound too crestfallen.

"It's my last chance to visit my mother before we leave," Todoroki explains, and the apologetic tone in his voice makes Izuku feel unreasonable and whiny.

"Oh, I'm glad," he says, and he's not sure of there's a tactful way to say Sorry if my need for validation makes you feel like you have to apologize for taking the time to further repair your relationship with your mom, but he's sure that if he tries to find it, he'll only embarrass both of them.

Luckily, tact isn't a requirement for launching the first punch in a sparring match. Sometimes the nice things in life don't require words.

The Kiyashi Ward mall is even cooler than Eijirou expected.

To start with, it's massive. When they say it has the most shops of any mall in the prefecture, they aren't kidding. Eijirou wouldn't be surprised if it has more shops than the rest of them put together. He counts at least four distinct levels, and they're all pretty jam-packed. Not that that's much of a surprise; it's the start of summer, and this place is a pretty sweet hangout for kids getting out of school.

Holy hell is he glad to be here. Thank god for Aizawa-sensei and his logical ruses.

Almost the whole class is here—Kaminari, Ashido, and Satou are especially psyched, and so is Eijirou. Iida's already trying in vain to corral everyone into something resembling order, but the mall is crowded and everyone's hearing the siren call of the surrounding shops, food stands, and kiosks. Eijirou already has his sights set on something to buy, but he's not quite ready to run off just yet. He does a quick sweep of the area to see if anyone else is showing up. It looks like not everybody who said they were coming made it, which is a shame. He was really hoping to talk to—

"Hey, Kirishima."

He startles in place, and looks over his shoulder to find Midoriya standing there as if he's been there the entire time. "Oh hey, dude! I was wondering if you were gonna make it."

"Wouldn't miss it." Midoriya smiles back, but there's a nervousness in his face that Eijirou can't deny.

"You okay?" Eijirou steps closer and lowers his voice, just in case Midoriya isn't comfortable with him broadcasting his emotional state to the rest of the group. "I, uh, meant what I said, before. Bakugou isn't coming."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I believe you." Midoriya's grin brightens. "It's just, um… it's a little embarrassing but I've never… actually… done this before?"

Eijirou blinks. "Done what?"

"Y-you know. Malls. Friends. Hanging out." Midoriya shakes his head. "A-anyway, where are we going first? There's a whole bunch of places to choose from, and I have some ideas for what to get, but I don't mind walking around and browsing, because I might see something useful that I didn't think of, and I also don't really know my way around, but I guess there are directories and stuff so that's not really much of a problem—"

"Midoriya. My dude." Eijirou lets his hand fall on Midoriya's shoulder, cutting off the nervous chatter. "Chill. All is cool."

"R-right. Oh, hi, Uraraka!" Midoriya catches sight of a few of the others and waves.

It looks like everyone who was going to come is now here. Bakugou is a no-show, and so is Todoroki, but that's all cool. Bakugou was never interested in the first place, and Todoroki isn't really the buddy-buddy hanging out type—unless it's for sparring, apparently.

"Hey, Kirishima?" Midoriya speaks up again, and the embarrassed look is back. "I have an awkward question—"

"Hey look over there! Are those Yuuei students?" As crowded and bustling as this place is, voices still carry, and Kirishima glances over to see a group of other high-schoolers whooping and fist-pumping at them.

"Yeah, those are the freshman!"

"Woooo, Sports Festival!"

"Hot stunts!"

"Wow, there are people who still remember us," Uraraka remarks. Yeah, Eijirou's sort of glad Bakugou and Todoroki didn't show up. They probably would've gotten mobbed. He can see Tokoyami surreptitiously hiding behind Shouji, and Eijirou can't blame him. Third place might be high enough to attract attention, and Tokoyami's not really strutting-his-stuff-in-public kind of guy.

"Sorry, what were you saying, man?" Kirishima turns back to Midoriya once the rowdy high schoolers move off again. "You had a question?"

"Yeah, um…" Midoriya shifts from foot to foot awkwardly. "Did… did you pass after all? The practical exam, I mean. I just remember Aizawa-sensei said something about remedial classes, but you're apparently going to the camp with us, so…"

And ooh, that stings, but Midoriya looks so embarrassed to ask, like he knows exactly how sensitive it probably is, that Eijirou can't even be upset. "Ah, right, that. Oh—I forgot, you weren't… you weren't there, when Aizawa-sensei told us." Awkward. "Yeah, apparently that was another play to get us motivated. Turns out we're going after all—me and Satou, and Kaminari and Ashido, too!" Eijirou grins. "I mean, there'll still be remedial stuff, but at least we get to go."

"Logical ruses," Midoriya mutters.

"Yeah, my brain's still a little scrambled. But hey! We're going camping in the woods and I get to come, so you won't hear me complaining."

By now, everyone seems to have a plan, and everyone has a different plan; Jirou and Yaoyorozu are going off to look at kit bags, Uraraka needs bug spray, Ashido's going with her to look at camping supplies, and so on.

"You have your eyes on anything, Midoriya?" Eijirou asks.

"Wrist weights," Midoriya answers promptly.

"Huh. Like what the teachers had on, during the exam?"

"Yup." Midoriya nods. "That's where I got the idea—they were weighted down but still free to move, and their hands were free. I think it'd be good weight-training."

Eijirou brightens. "Well hey, you can probably find stuff like that in sporting goods, and that's where I'm headed."

"Did you say sporting goods?" Hagakure pokes into the conversation. "Me and Kaminari need good outdoor shoes, so we could totally head there together!"

"Sweet!" Eijirou brings his hands together. "How about we set a meeting time and split up? We can get back together and grab some food when we're done!"

It doesn't take long to reach an agreement; everyone is eager to run off, shop, and explore. Eijirou leads the charge with Midoriya, Hagakure, and Kaminari, for all that this is technically his first time visiting this place, so he doesn't exactly know his way around better than any of them. But he's still riding the high of his own excitement and relief, because even though Aizawa-sensei has threatened rigorous training, a class camping trip is still a class camping trip, and rumor has it that Class 1-B is gonna be there too! Maybe he can hang out with Tetsutetsu if they have the chance.

"So I know there's this super-amazing sports store in here somewhere," he says. "We might end up running into the others there anyway, 'cause I bet loads of us are looking for camping gear, right?"

"Well, none of us have been here before, so…" Kaminari glances around at the sprawling shopping center and shrugs. "Should we wander around til we do?"

"We could do that," Hagakure says. "Or we could look at that directory, over there."

Kirishima joins Kaminari in scanning the place. "Where?"

"It's right there!" Hagakure huffs. "Where I'm pointing!"

Kaminari gives her a pained look. "Hagakure, you're wearing a tank top."

"I see it," Midoriya says, and his voice shakes like he's trying not to laugh. Hagakure sighs with relief (and annoyance), and she and Midoriya lead the way to the sign.

The shop they're looking for is on the second floor, closer to the opposite end of the mall from where they stand. Still, the layout of the place isn't too complicated; as long as they find their way upstairs, it should be pretty easy to get to.

Of course, that's when they reach their first obstacle: an escalator roped off with caution tape and a brightly colored "out of order" sign.

"Awww, man, that figures," Hagakure blows a raspberry. "Is there another one close by?"

Eijirou casts about quickly, before his eyes alight upon a pair of double doors set into the wall nearby. "Even better—there's the elevator, guys, c'mon."

"Sweet, is it one of those glass ones?" Kaminari keeps pace with him as he leads the way over, and they end up racing each other to be the first to hit the button. It's a close race, but Kaminari wins by virtue of gently zapping him when when Eijirou tries to jostle his way to the front. It's a bold and sneaky move, and Kirishima can't even be annoyed.

It is not, in fact, a glass elevator, but a normal metal one, which is a little disappointing, but hey. If the elevator ride was gonna be the highlight of their trip, then that would probably make it a pretty crap trip, right?

"Um." At the sound of Midoriya's voice, Eijirou looks over his shoulder to find Midoriya hanging back and checking their surroundings. "I'll meet you guys up there. Second floor, right?"

"Huh?" Eijirou frowns. "C'mon, don't get separated now. It's pretty crowded here, and you did say you've never been, right? It'll be better if we stick together."

"I'm not going anywhere, don't worry." Midoriya flashes him a quick grin. "Just trying to find stairs, that's all. Can't skip leg day, right?"

The elevator doors open, and Eijirou rolls his eyes as he catches Midoriya gently by the arm. "C'mon, dude, I know you're hardcore, but you have plenty of time for leg day at camp, right?" Kaminari and Hagakure are already inside, holding the doors open for them, and Kirishima tugs him in. "You don't have to be hardcore twenty-four seven—"

Thud.

Eijirou swears he feels the elevator shake when Midoriya catches the frame. He doesn't just hit it—he slams it, hard enough for all that he doesn't use his quirk. Shocked, Eijirou freezes where he is, still holding Midoriya's arm. His friend hasn't followed them in; he's gripping the edge of the door frame with one white-knuckled hand just to keep Eijirou from pulling him in.

"Kirishima I will pay you cash money to let me take the stairs." Midoriya looks him dead in the eye, and Eijirou is too shocked to form a proper answer.

"Um. What?"

"I'm not kidding, name your price." The desperate note in Midoriya's voice is what makes Eijirou let go, and Midoriya pulls his arm back like he's been burned.

At the last moment, he sees Midoriya's eyes widen, as if he's only just realized what he said. He opens his mouth to say something else, then turns and hurries away. Kirishima takes a step to go after him, but the elevator doors slide shut in his face.

Midoriya doesn't meet them on the second floor.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Izuku weaves through the crowd, bumping and shouldering people as he goes, ignoring all the odd looks he gets as he hurries to put as much distance between himself and the others as possible. His heartbeat rattles in his throat and fills his ears with static. Dimly he's aware of Rei close to his side, as she always is, but he can't talk to her, can't risk it, not when he's too addled to be discreet about it.

That was stupid. He should have been braver than that. Or if nothing else, he should have been smarter than that. But he wasn't, and now three of his classmates know or at least have an inkling about something he's tried so hard to keep to himself—and they'll have questions, questions that he won't want to answer because they're uncomfortable and pathetic and humiliating and what kind of hero panics over something so harmless and common? He should have kept his head, he should have slipped away before they got close, he should have snatched his arm back before Kirishima could pull him in, he should have gone ahead and met them instead of opening his stupid mouth and giving them a chance to argue, he should have bitten the bullet and followed Kirishima in, it's just an elevator, a stupid elevator, not even a closet—

Izuku sucks in a breath that hitches in his chest. Avoiding things that hurt you doesn't count as weakness, he said that, he remembers saying that, he remembers Todoroki telling him he said that, but it's so much harder to follow advice than to give it, even when it's the same damn advice.

His eyes burn but stay dry, and at least that's something. Even if he just humiliated himself, even if he dreads meeting them again later because they'll ask questions and Kirishima will look at him with sad, guilty eyes like it's somehow his fault Izuku has a weakness like that—at least he isn't crying.

It's a close thing.

Izuku is lost in his head as he makes his way through the throng. Eventually his mind comes to terms with the fact that he has no real idea where he's going, and no intentions that might help him remedy that. He'll have to get to that sporting goods store eventually, if he wants those weights—or he could find Uraraka. Or Iida. Iida will be easy to find, with Tensei following him around like usual.

That's it—he can find one of his other friends and follow them around, try to salvage whatever fun might still be squeezed out of today. If he needs to, he can always come back later, or buy weights online or closer to home. He just has to calm down. Breathe. Get his head out of this mess of choppy emotions and back where it's supposed to be.

It's only when he starts to do that, that he realizes Rei is urgently swatting him in the shoulder and hissing. Izuku blinks his way out the haze and back to the present, just in time to avoid crashing into someone. He swerves out of the way with a yelp, earning a bewildered look from a passing shopper. Izuku blinks back, matching their confused look, before he glances back and realized he just clumsily pirouetted out of the way of a ghost. Rei jostles him by the shoulder and bares her teeth, glaring around him like a suspicious bodyguard. Faint alarm trickles into his veins, and Izuku follows her example to scan their surroundings.

That's… an awful lot of ghosts.

The mall was already crowded, but the spaces between the shoppers are now filled with white-eyed spirits, and their voices pitch above the white noise of conversation. Izuku can't quite pick out words, but what he does hear sends a crackle of fear up his spine. Moans and sobbing, quiet wailing, a few pitched shouts, all of them echoing in his ears and his ears alone—sadness, fear, anger, desperation, despair.

The dead aren't happy. There shouldn't be this many of them, not in a place like this, and not so suddenly, unless a whole lot of people just died simultaneously nearby, or…

Are some of them looking at him?

Izuku checks the news app on his phone, but there's nothing of note happening anywhere in Kiyashi Ward. He scans the crowd, spots a woman who seems lucid enough in spite of the gunshot wound in her throat, and creeps over to her. He sees her face change from anxious fear to shock when she realizes he's looking at her instead of through her.

"Um, excuse me?" He keeps his voice low, barely moves his mouth. "Is something happening—?"

"You can see me?" Her voice shakes. "You can… you can see us?"

"Yes, so please just—"

"You need to leave." She presses her hands to his chest and seems shocked that she can touch him. "You need—you're the one in the photograph, you're not safe, please, just leave before he finds you—"

"Before who finds me?" Her words twist his confusion into a tight coil of fear, and he almost forgets to keep his voice down.

She grips his arms, and he feels her cold touch even where his shirt sleeves cover his skin. "He's here—dark jacket, with the hood up. You're—you're the kid in the photo, the one he's always talking about—you need to get out of here. Go home." She sees something over her shoulder, and her face goes a shade paler before she vanishes.

Izuku chances a glance behind him, tries to be casual about it, and spots someone in a dark hooded jacket amid the crowd.

Heart in his throat, he starts walking again.

He uses the crowd to his advantage, or at least tries to. It's harder for him to hide in this crowd than it is for someone else to hide from him. But he tries to make do, ducking in where it's thickest, taking roundabout and circuitous routes through the mall. His phone vibrates in his pocket, but he ignores it. He'll worry about that when he's safe on the train home; maybe he'll make up some excuse about being called home by his mother. For now he just has to get out.

He tosses another glance over his shoulder, and the dark jacket is nowhere in sight. He's not sure whether to feel relieved or more worried. Has he shaken his pursuer? Is he close to an exit? Maybe he can just—

Rei shrieks a warning, and Izuku follows her voice to a nearby pillar. She stands next to it, baring her teeth at the spot behind it where Izuku can't see, and he doesn't need a warning clearer than that. He turns to walk the other way, and that's when his luck runs out.

They're all clustered here, these dead, and that's how Izuku knows he's close—too close to save himself, too close to escape. There are too many bodies in his way, warm and cold alike, and the latter are so used to people phasing through them like mirages that they don't know to part for him.

"Move, move, move," he pleads, and even at a whisper his voice is pitched with desperation. "Please move—"

An arm settles around his shoulders, tight and heavy.

"No need for that." The voice is a familiar one. Izuku finds himself reaching for One For All at the sound—because what are laws and consequences to him, when Shigaraki Tomura is close enough for his stale breath to waft so close to his ear?

Before he can make a move, or even form a thought about what move he could possibly make, the arm shifts. In the next moment there are four fingers on his neck, rough and dry, with untrimmed nails digging into his skin.

"Clever you, spotting me so quickly," Shigaraki murmurs close by his ear, and Izuku can barely hear him over the static ringing in his his head.

(Oh wait, that's not his head. It's Rei—Rei's here. Izuku gropes through empty air until she reaches back and clutches his hand. He can feel the bones in her fingers shifting, forming something something long andmisshapen and grotesque—)

"Don't struggle," Shigaraki advises. "We're just old friends catching up, yes? Just talking. That's all I want to do, is talk. Don't struggle. Maybe take a moment—breathe slow. Don't let anyone know, or else—I have four fingers on you. You remember what happens when I add one more?"

The memory flashes across his eyes, unwelcome and sickeningly vivid—Aizawa-sensei's arm, the sleeve crumbled away and the flesh quick to follow—

"It's slow."

The fingers twitch against his neck. "What was that?"

"Your quirk." He's good at this—at observation, at analysis. He can do this in his sleep, so why not do it amid the fear? "If you could dust me with one touch, you'd have done that to Aizawa-sensei. It doesn't work that fast. Of course—" He swallows, and—no, better not do that too much, it makes his throat bob closer to that fifth finger. "—you had his arm, n-not his neck. But—I'd give myself a few seconds at least, to get out of your grip before it reached anything vital. It'd hurt, but I could survive." He has to pause there, because he knows those chances are slim. "And even if I didn't, I wonder how many heroes there are in the crowd."

He keeps his grip on Rei's hand, because he can hear her tensing, gathering herself, ready to make her objections known one way or another. He jerks on his grip until she looks down at his free hand and the words he's spelling out at his hip, outside of Shigaraki's field of vision. Don't. If he panics, he'll touch. She squeezes back, and keeps quiet.

"I wonder how many people I could kill before any of them reached me and took me down," Shigaraki answers, and Izuku has to risk swallowing again because it's that or gag. "Look at them, all those little NPCs running around. Like little bags of EXP." He sighs with something like longing. "That's the difference, between you and me. I don't care how many people I kill on my way out."

He feels it—the panic coming in as inexorably as the tide, each wave bigger and higher until he's ready to drown. In his mind he thrashes and flounders, desperate to stay afloat, to keep his head above water and keep breathing. He's a finger's width away from being dust on the ground. He's so close to death, he's never been so close to death before—

The icy grip on his hand tightens, and the chill spreads through him like thorny vines, reaching ever closer to his core. They prick as they go, returning the feeling to things that were otherwise muted by encroaching panic. Hope and joy are quick to drown like sparks plunged in water, but then the chill reaches his anger, and it blooms warm in his chest.

He's never been so close to death before. What is he talking about? He's been close to death since he was small. He's been surrounded by things that only he could touch, that only he could be hurt by, and Shigaraki is volatile and hungry for death and destruction, but he is not one of them.

Shigaraki grips his throat, but Rei grips his hand.

You are only a man, Izuku thinks. A man who eats and sleeps and breathes, and my friends are scarier than you.

"That's better," Shigaraki says. "Come on, hurry up. Let's have a seat together, shall we?"

He lets Shigaraki guide him to a bench and sits down gingerly with him, mindful of how close that finger hovers over his neck. He can't risk a deep breath before he speaks. "So. What did you want to talk about?"

"You're annoying," Shigaraki tells him.

"I'm sorry."

"Shut up." His fingers twitch, and Izuku presses his lips together. "You want to know why you're annoying? Because I can't decide—whether I hate you or not." He hisses through his teeth. "You piss me off. But you know who pisses me off the most right now? The Hero Killer."

"That's reasonable." Izuku hopes his voice sounds as calm to Shigaraki's ears as it does to his own. He wishes he could control his own heartbeat, because Shigaraki must be able to feel it, with his fingers positioned where they are.

"It's partly your fault," Shigaraki snarls. "Because you ran into him. You fought him. And now everyone's talking about him." His fingers tighten again, nails digging into flesh. "About him. Why aren't they talking about me?"

Izuku keeps silent, not sure if that's meant to be rhetorical or not. Of course, if it's not, then he might piss off his captor by taking too long to answer. He can't risk turning his head to try to gauge his expression, not without possibly bumping his fingertip. "Um—"

"That's what pisses me off," Shigaraki goes on. "I did—I did so much. Right? I released those Noumu in the city. I attacked the USJ—I infiltrated Yuuei, and nobody's ever done before, ever, and what do I get? Nothing. Nobody. Everyone only cares about Stain." His breath rattles harshly in his throat.

"Sorry," Izuku says. He's trying to come up with a plan, but all he can think of is exactly what he's already doing. There's no promise of help coming like there was at the USJ, or when he fought Stain. He can stall for time, but for what? He can't risk going for his phone, because Shigaraki is close enough to feel that, and there's no way in hell Izuku is luring one of his friends straight into Shigaraki's hands.

All he can do is keep Shigaraki talking until he gets bored, and maybe, if Izuku is very lucky, all he'll do then is leave.

"Sorry for what?" Shigaraki snaps.

"Tried to keep it quiet," Izuku says. "Fought him in a dark empty alley and everything. No witnesses. I didn't even get credit for it."

Shigaraki hisses through his teeth again, but he doesn't dig his nails in this time. "Then why? Why does everyone like him so much?"

"You might be asking the wrong person," Izuku says. "He stabbed two of my friends and knifed me a couple times, and… most people haven't had that happen to them."

"I have," Shigaraki snarls. "When we told him to join our party, he stabbed me and Kurogiri."

"That must have been awful."

"There must be some reason," Shigaraki goes on. "And you're no help at all."

Whatever Shigaraki wants, he still hasn't gotten it yet, and Izuku scrapes his mind together and tries to wrap it around the question. He falls silent, watching the crowd. The dead watch him back, waiting—always waiting. They're wondering if he's going to join them. If anyone's going to join them today. Everyone is waiting for Izuku—the ghosts are waiting for him to survive or to die, Shigaraki is waiting for him to answer, Kirishima and the others are waiting for him to meet them on the second floor, his mother is waiting for him to come home—

He can't afford to keep them waiting.

"What's your favorite video game?" he asks.

He feels Shigaraki go still, and this time he risks turning his head just slightly. His first glimpse of Shigaraki Tomura's face is not a pleasant one—his skin is almost gray, with pale hair falling into his beady, bloodshot eyes. Tiny scars and nicks mar the skin, and his lips are chapped and bloodless. Izuku averts his eyes again.

"…What?" Shigaraki says at last.

"I know you like them. What's your favorite?" His own lips feel dry, so he runs his tongue over them. "Mine's Undertale."

Shigaraki is silent and still for a few moments. Just when Izuku is starting to think he won't answer at all, his captor's raspy voice reaches his ears again, less of a snarl than a subdued mumble.

"…I like Bioshock."

"That's a good one." Izuku almost nods in agreement, but thinks better of it. "I, uh. I bet you always harvest all the Little Sisters, huh."

"You get more ADAM that way," Shigaraki snaps. "What's your point?"

"People like a good story," Izuku says. "Most people—everything happens on the news, not to them, so it's just—it's just a story, to them. And a good story needs a good villain, right?" He doesn't wait for Shigaraki to answers. "Bioshock has—has Andrew Ryan, and Frank Fontaine, and—I guess, depending on how you play, you could end up the villain, too." He swallows against the tickle in his gag reflex. "And all those villains—they all want something, right? F-Fontaine wanted money, and power, and Ryan—"

"Ryan wanted to be free," Shigaraki murmured. "He wanted to do whatever he wanted, without any parasites telling him what to do." For a split second the grip tightens enough to close Izuku's windpipe, but it loosens again. "Free will. No stupid laws." Izuku can hear his teeth grind. "That's what I want, too. What's your point?"

"My point is that nobody can tell," Izuku answers, and braces himself for a touch, for pain, but it doesn't come, so he keeps going. "Everyone knows what Stain wanted. He had an ideal, that he was working for, and—and it wasn't right, and his methods weren't right either, but he had that ideal." He swallows again, tasting bile. "That's what people like. That's what's interesting. And nobody can tell what you want. You just destroy stuff, and… that's not interesting."

"But I want to destroy things," Shigaraki snarls. "I want to break the things I don't like."

"What for?"

The only reply he gets is silence, broken by the hum of activity around them. Shigaraki is quiet, thinking, and Izuku isn't sure if he's thinking about the question or considering whether or not to kill him.

"I guess… people like villains who—who break things, in order to make new ones?" Izuku pauses. His eyes are starting to burn, and he prays that they won't spill over. "Andrew Ryan wanted to make a utopia. Stain wanted to make a better world." He blinks back tears. "Is there something you want to make, Shigaraki?"

The silence stretches further, and Izuku has run out of things to say. His analogy has run its course, and still nothing. Shigaraki is still here, the ghosts are still here, Rei is still here, and—

"I've decided," Shigaraki says, and his voice is… brighter, now. It's almost lively. "I've decided. I think I like you, Midoriya Izuku."

His grip loosens enough for Izuku to turn his head again, and he comes face to face with a nightmare of a smile. There's something different now, something heavier in the air, like a new layer to Shigaraki's eerie presence. It's barely a fraction of what he feels from most poltergeists—from what he felt from Stain, moments before his fall—but it's similar enough to bring the bile creeping up his throat again. So Izuku does what he always does, when death is staring him in the face and the fear is too powerful to trick.

He parts his lips from his teeth, and smiles back.

"Deku?"

Shigaraki's head turns to look for the voice, which is good because Izuku's smile takes on a desperate note when he recognizes Uraraka's call. "Ah—so you had company? You should've said. I should've known your little friends would be running around here, too."

The hand leaves his throat, and his grip was never hard enough to throttle, but Izuku's next breath shudders on the way in all the same. Rei hugs his arm, and that's all that keeps him from pitching forward off the bench. Now free to moves, he spots Uraraka and Kirishima weaving through the crowd. Uraraka's phone is in her hand.

"Well, seeya." Shigaraki rises abruptly from the bench. "Don't try to chase after me—you know what'll happen if you do."

"Uh-huh." Izuku's head swims. "Shigaraki—"

"Yeah?"

"What about All For One?" His voice cracks. "What's he trying to make?"

Shigaraki turns his head, just enough for Izuku to see the curve of his smile. "Wouldn't you like to know? Maybe you'll get to ask him someday."

And with that, he's gone, vanishing into the crowd. Izuku struggles to his feet just as Uraraka comes rushing to his side with Kirishima close behind her.

"Deku, I got your message—" Whatever his face looks like right now, it must not be good, because Uraraka goes pale when she sees him. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"Who was that?" Kirishima asks, twisting around to search the crowd.

"Oh, that was Shigaraki," Izuku replies faintly. The wave is back again, higher and heavier than ever before. He's used up the delay. "He wanted to talk. Can you guys call someone?"

If one of them replies, he's beyond hearing them. The dead are filtering out of the crowd once more, and Izuku knows that Shigaraki will be long gone before any police or heroes reach them.

He makes it to the nearest trash can before being violently sick.