Chapter 40

The world stopped feeling real either minutes or hours ago; Izuku can't be sure. He can't be sure of a lot of things: where he is, what time it is, whether or not he's really all that safe.

The wave is coming. He can feel his mind turning somersaults in his head, a surefire sign that all the pressure and sickening terror, everything he has spent the past three days pushing back and pushing back, is about to come crashing in at last. This may be the longest he's ever delayed it, and so much has happened within that time. He's going to drown.

But—that's okay. It's okay because he's holding on to someone's hand, and as long as he doesn't let go, he can always follow it back to the surface.

There are people talking, but it feels as if his ears are stuffed with cotton. He can hear words, but he can't pick them apart to understand them. Blackness creeps in from all sides, but he can just make out—lights. Uniforms. Police and paramedics, he realizes distantly.

The warm hand tightens around his, and he squeezes back. People hold things tighter when they're afraid they might lose them. Someone speaks, and the voice is familiar—Iida. Iida's here. Iida never left. The hand grips his, the wave towers over him, and he braces himself to drown.

The hand loosens, and lets go.

In a panic, Izuku finds himself floundering, scrambling away from the encroaching wave as it moves in. He reaches back, frantic.

It comes back, only this time it rests on his right shoulder, so warm it's nearly hot through his shirt. A colder hand comes to his left arm, avoiding the burn—Todoroki. Todoroki's here but he's leaving why is he leaving—

Words come into focus.

"Midoriya. You have to go with them."

Izuku chokes.

The hands squeeze his arms gently. "Listen. I don't like it either, but they'll take care of you. It's safe. It's over now."

Don't leave, he tries to say, but his mouth won't obey.

The hands move again, from his arms to the sides of his face, and suddenly Todoroki's forehead is against his, and his eyes are close enough that Izuku can see them even through the tunnel vision. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise."

And then there are uniformed bodies between them, and Izuku stumbles and flounders along, and once again he can't afford to drown just yet.

He presses back against the wall of the ambulance, wide-eyed and fighting against the tunnel vision. He can't hide. He can't drown. He can't go blind. He can't afford to do any of those things, not when he's alone like this, not when his living friends are gone and the only company he has are the paramedics treating his shoulder and—

Rei.

Rei's still here.

At least that's something.

Shouta isn't entirely sure where his suit is at the moment, and he's even less sure that it's all in one place.

He vaguely remembers throwing the jacket in Sekijirou's general direction after the press conference ended. With the knowledge that the rescue raids were taking place, he'd felt simultaneously strangled and exposed without his gear on.

But now, with his jumpsuit on and the weight of his capture weapon settled around his shoulders, he feels more like a pro hero again, and less like a trained monkey dolled up for the crowds to stare at.

In the end, there's neither room nor time for him to join in the battle or rescue operations. He knew there wouldn't be; there's too much distance between him and the two locations in Yokohama.

He sees the news broadcast, though. He doubts there's a living soul in Japan who doesn't.

Clean-up is still underway by the time he reaches the site of All-Might's last stand. A team of pros headed by Endeavor has already cleared up the Noumu at the other location. And while Shouta knows that the part he played was necessary, he can't help but feel extraneous. Like an extra piece, tossed to the side and taking up space.

"Sensei?"

He startles at the familiar voice, though he doesn't show it. Yaoyorozu is here—what is Yaoyorozu doing here?—dressed to blend in with the crowd, approaching him with clear trepidation.

"I didn't engage with any villains," she says quickly, as if reading the look on his face. "I just—here. Midoriya said to give you these. I don't know what they are."

She pushes four small external drives into his hands, and hurries away.

Before he can pursue her to question her further, a text from Tsukauchi directs him to a hospital in Kamino Ward. As much as he hates to leave this be for now, he's needed elsewhere, so he pockets the drives and files away Yaoyorozu's strange appearance for later.

The hospital is not the one where All-Might will be; that one's kept under wraps for security's sake. But Shouta isn't there for All-Might.

He finds Bakugou first.

The reason for this is that Bakugou isn't in a hospital room. He's sitting with an officer, stone-faced but not scowling, and looks to be quietly and tersely answering questions. There's gauze over his collarbone, but otherwise he looks unhurt.

His hands are shaking.

The officer does a double-take as Shouta approaches. "Ah, Eraserhead. We're just debriefing—it'll just be a few more minutes."

A few more minutes for this session, Shouta knows. They'll only do basic surface-level stuff for now, and come back for more in-depth questions once Bakugou's had time to recover.

He locks eyes with his student for a moment. Bakugou can only meet his eyes for a few seconds before looking away.

"All right?" Shouta asks.

Bakugou winces, but nods. Shouta doesn't blame him; this is the gentlest he's ever spoken to Bakugou before.

"I'm glad," he says. "I'll be back when I've checked on Midoriya." He steps away.

"Sensei."

He looks back just in time to see Bakugou look away again, lowering his eyes to his lap.

"I used my quirk on him," he says shortly, and Shouta's heart leaps up into his throat. "It was complicated, and I didn't want to, and he told me to, but the point is I did it." He pauses, throat bobbing as he swallows. "That's all."

Shouta frowns. He's not sure what that means. Something tells him he won't be sure until he has the chance to talk to Midoriya.

"Thank you for telling me," he says after a moment. "We'll talk more later."

He doesn't have to ask around for where his remaining student is, because another officer intercepts him. This one he recognizes; it's Tamakawa, one of Tsukauchi's closest colleagues.

"A little outside your jurisdiction, isn't it?" Shouta asks.

"A little." Tamakawa's ears flick backward. "But I was called in ahead of time, given my familiarity with your students. And on that note, I could use your help."

Shouta's eyes narrow. "Is something wrong with Midoriya?"

Tamakawa starts leading him further down the hall. "He's in considerably worse shape than your other student. Nothing overtly serious, but he'll be staying overnight for treatment. But that's not the problem; the problem is that he's awake, but… not very responsive."

"Catatonic?" Shouta asks.

"Not exactly."

The officer leads him into a smaller hospital room, empty except for its single occupant and a nurse checking his vitals. The boy leans away from her, as far back as he can while still submitting to treatment, and watches the nurse as if he half-expects her to sprout fangs and spit poison. His face is empty of expression, but his eyes are constantly on the move, roving from the nurse to to the window to the doorway. As soon as the nurse steps back, he presses back as far as the bed will allow, grips handfuls of the hospital blanket, and continues watching the window and the door.

Checking for threats, Shouta notes absently. And keeping an eye on escape routes.

The nurse looks as if she'd like to protest, but she sees the look on Shouta's face and reluctantly backs off. Shouta steps forward with a quiet sigh.

"Midoriya."

His student zeroes in on him in an instant, as if just noticing him, and Shouta spends a moment assessing what he sees. Tamakawa was right; he's considerably worse off than Bakugou. Bruises mottle his body, standing out sickly purple and green on his face in particular. His left shoulder is bandaged, his hand is splinted, and his arm hangs in a sling.

Shouta brushes him accidentally as he moves to sit by him, and his student twitches as if shocked. Shouta is careful to sit on the side opposite the injured arm, careful not to think about the fact that the last time he spoke to Midoriya, the last time he touched Midoriya, was three nights ago when he reset that arm.

"I guess I can't fault your honesty," Shouta says. "You said you'd see me once everyone was safe, and you've technically kept your word."

Midoriya's right hand still clutches the sheets, white-knuckled and shaking, until he lets go and transfers the vicelike-grip to Shouta's arm. Hollow green eyes meet his, and Midoriya may not be making a sound, but Shouta knows a plea for help when he sees one.

His student looks away again, to the doorway. "Midoriya." He shifts his arm, starts to pry Midoriya's hand loose, but stops when he sees the spike of panic it causes. So instead, he curls his hand over Midoriya's grasping fingers, until his student is looking at him again, the way a drowning man looks at a life preserver. "It's over. You're safe."

Midoriya breathes in, wheezing a little, and shakes his head as if to clear it. He lets go of Shouta's arm to squeeze his hand instead.

"There's no one here you need to protect," Shouta tells him, and the dam breaks.

It's probably hours overdue. For all Shouta knows, it's three days overdue. It would not surprise him in the least if Midoriya has spent his captivity suppressing a breakdown.

It's eerie, for all that it's not Shouta's first panic attack. The problem is how quiet it is. Even the wheezing breaths are muffled, and tears stream down his student's face with no accompanying sobs. Shouta keeps talking, quiet and calm, as Midoriya falls apart and squeezes his hand numb.

It's only when his breathing has evened out—though the tears haven't stopped—that Midoriya shifts, and suddenly his head is pressed to Shouta's chest.

This isn't his area. He's never been touchy-feely, not with students nor with civilian victims—not even with friends, really. He's Midoriya's teacher, not his mother.

Unfortunately, his mother isn't here at the moment. She won't be here for a couple hours.

Shouta ignores Tamakawa, ignores his own misgivings, and wraps his arms around his student's trembling shoulders until the panic finally runs out.

It is not over quickly.

By the time it is, Midoriya has exhausted himself so thoroughly that he falls asleep against Shouta. Shortly after that the nurse returns, helps Shouta extricate himself, and makes Midoriya as comfortable as a hospital mattress will allow. Shouta stands up, feeling far more tired than he has any right to, considering that he hasn't faced a single villain tonight. The nurse shoos both him and Tamakawa out.

"Sorry," he says. "You probably wanted to debrief him."

"The boy's well-being comes first," Tamakawa says with a shrug. "It can't be helped, and besides, we aren't going anywhere. Everything life-or-death urgent has already passed."

Shouta nods, and goes to check on Bakugou again. He has a hospital room to himself as well, though he's awake and alert and still dressed in his own clothes.

"Where's Deku?" he asks, the moment he sees Shouta walks in.

"Asleep," he replies. "Injured, but not badly." He pauses. "His shoulder was bandaged."

Bakugou looks away. "I didn't want to," he says. "He asked—he yelled at me until I did it anyway."

"Why?" Shouta's careful not to make it sound like an accusation.

"He had—he had some kind of plan. I dunno." Bakugou shrugs roughly. "He played nice. Got them all thinking he was on their side, and they bought it. Then—he helped spring me, and told me to burn his shoulder. Figured he wanted to make it extra convincing. I don't know why. He didn't tell me and there wasn't time to drag it out of him."

Shouta sighs harshly. Bakugou is aggressive and rude, but not a liar. And besides, it would explain quite a lot. If Midoriya has spent the past few days playing dangerous games with villains, then no wonder he looks so battered and exhausted.

It might explain the drives that Yaoyorozu thrust at him, as well.

"It'll come out when he has the chance to explain himself," Shouta says. "They'll probably have more questions for you later, but for now, they'll be sending you home tonight."

Bakugou nods mutely.

"I'm sorry for not preventing this," Shouta goes on. "And I'm glad our mistakes didn't cost you more than they already have. It's good that you're safe."

His student fidgets, and won't look at him. "Whatever," he mutters, but he sounds more embarrassed than anything else.

Shouta makes his way to the front to wait for Tsukauchi to arrive. It's awkward to discuss important things over text, but as far as Shouta knows, Tsukauchi is still wrapping things up with Endeavor and the horde of captured Noumu.

He hates the waiting. It feels as if this entire ordeal has been nothing but waiting, and Shouta has been denied the physical release of a proper fight. It's as if he's been on cleaning duty the whole time: first damage control with the school and the parents and the media, and now he's left to help sweep up the mess in the aftermath.

When Shouta steps out to the front lobby of the hospital, he bites his tongue and curses his poor luck and troublesome students that keep showing up where they shouldn't be. Standing at the front desk are Todoroki Shouto and Uraraka Ochako, faced with an over-tired receptionist who looks as if she'd rather be anywhere else. Shouta can relate.

"—don't need to see him or anything, we just want to know how he's doing," he hears Uraraka argue.

"Seeing him would be nice," Todoroki bites out.

"I'm sorry, but I can't give out that—" The receptionist catches sight of Shouta approaching, and her eyes flash with a silent plea for help. His students see her attention shift, and both of them look over their shoulders and freeze at the sight of him.

It's been a long night. It's only going to get longer. Shouta doesn't need this.

"What do you two think you're doing here?"

Uraraka at least has the grace to look apologetic. Todoroki meets his gaze with sullen defiance.

"Where's Midoriya?"

"Resting. Do I even want to know how you two knew to come here in the first place?"

Todoroki blinks, and his face twitches but gives nothing away. Uraraka is a little worse at hiding her guilt. For a moment, Shouta's memory takes him back a short while ago, when Yaoyorozu thrust a handful of external drives at him, jostling his arms and brushing at his sleeves. He'd been distracted of course, but now, in hindsight…

It takes a bit of searching, but Shouta finds the tiny tracking chip caught in the fabric of his sleeve. It was deftly placed; under different circumstances, Shouta might have been proud of Yaoyorozu's quick hands. He looks at the chip, then at his two students.

"That was my idea—"

"Sensei it's not Momo's fault, I told her to—"

"Stop," he cuts them off. They fall silent, and Shouta takes a second look at them. They look… scruffy. Dirty, and a little bruised. Far more dirty and bruised than they ought to have looked if they'd been standing at the sidelines. Shouta's heart sinks. That means broken rules, and broken rules mean a lot of difficult choices about consequences. "By rights I should be calling your parents right now, at the very least."

"He's a little busy at the moment," Todoroki says flatly.

"I, um, don't live at home," Uraraka adds.

He sighs. "Midoriya's resting right now," he says, and the two of them stand a little straighter. "He's injured, but not seriously. I can't make them let you back there, but I can tell you that he's been treated. Bakugou's probably going to be out soon." Uraraka's already pulling out her phone, texting someone. Or texting everyone, for all he knows.

The hospital doors slide open, and a flurry of running footsteps turn Shouta's head. The moment he sees who it is, he takes his students firmly by the shoulders and draws them to the side, away from the front desk.

Mrs. Midoriya nearly trips and falls over the desk, wild-eyed and frantic. "My son is here," she says. "Midoriya Izuku. Where is he? Can I see him?" She fumbles out her ID card at the receptionist's request.

Evidently she has a much easier time of getting through than his students had. "He's received treatment, but we'll be keeping him overnight just to be safe," the receptionist tells her. "But in the meantime, you can go in and see him. Second floor, room 209. Actually, if Eraserhead is free, he can show you where—"

Mrs. Midoriya looks over and seems to notice him for the first time. Then her attention shifts to the teenagers standing with him.

Shouta happens to glance at Uraraka just in time to see her meet Mrs. Midoriya's eyes. He doesn't recognize that look that they share, but it probably means they know something he doesn't know, and should.

Mrs. Midoriya turns back to the receptionist. "Thank you very much. Those two are my son's friends—could I take them back with me?"

"Ma'am, we're currently only allowing family and law enforcement—"

"I'm his mother," Mrs. Midoriya says in a tone that discourages argument.

"I understand that, but—"

"You look as if you've had a long night," Mrs. Midoriya says.

"Well, yes, but—"

"I've had a very long three days," she continues. "And so have they. Would you like me to sign a waiver? Would that make it easier?"

The receptionist puts up a valiant fight, but Shouta knows a losing battle when he sees one. Mrs. Midoriya turns away with a gracious victory in hand, and beckons to his two students.

"Come along," she says, with a tired smile at them. "It'll make him happy if you're there."

Neither of them need to be told twice. As they join her, talking over each other's gratitude, Mrs. Midoriya brushes them off and turns her exhausted face to Shouta.

"Thank you," she says. "For what you said."

The press conference. It feels as if weeks have passed since then. Shouta nods to her mutely, and Mrs. Midoriya takes his students and leaves.

He shares a brief commiserating look with the harried receptionist, and takes a seat to wait for Tsukauchi.

Izuku is cuffed to the chair again. But that's wrong, he knows. It's wrong and it's a cruel thing for his mind to do, so he thrashes and struggles until he claws his way back to wakefulness again, back to stiff hospital sheets and a white ceiling above and Rei's cold hands clutching his.

But exhaustion won't leave him be without a fight. Again and again he's pulled under, forced in dreams to return to the warehouse and the room and the threat of encroaching black sludge and All For One's poison words. He flounders and fights, clinging to consciousness like the edge of a cliff, but it crumbles in his sore, tired hands, and he keeps falling.

He stays asleep long enough for the dreams to take him further; the blackness comes, the swirling dark of a warp gate that he falls through. The mask and the voice return to him, consuming the entire world of his nightmare until nothing exists within it but All For One's toxic presence. He tries to find Rei's hands again, so that he has some way to pull himself back out, but he falls deeper and deeper, until he can't tell which way is out anymore.

And then, pain breaks through. Rei's nails dig into his hand, nearly breaking skin until the sting brings him gasping into the waking world again. He can't see the white ceiling anymore, not through the tears. He lies awake, gasping for breath as he cries silently.

And then there are arms around him, and Izuku is wrapped in warmth and softness and the smell of the shampoo his mother uses.

"Izuku, I'm here. I'm here. You're safe, I promise. It's okay. It's okay, I've got you."

He clings to his mother as the tears fall away and clear his vision again. His face is pressed to her shoulder, and when he finally opens his bleary eyes, he sees that she didn't come alone.

Uraraka and Todoroki are here, standing back to give his mother room. And with them—

There's Ms. Morino, and Mrs. Matsuda and Kurosawa from the apartment. There's Hino, and even Ms. Suzuki. There's Tensei. There's Nana.

Nana sees him looking at her, and smiles. "Hey, munchkin. Toshi's at a different hospital, but he's okay. He won, kiddo. We won."

His mother finally pulls away and lets him sit back, then steps away and motions his friends forward.

"Hey, Deku." Uraraka's voice shakes. "Iida, Momo, and Kirishima said hi. Momo did what you asked."

Izuku's next breath trembles on the way in. There are things he wants to say, but he can't with his mother in the room—especially since he'd need her to translate anyway.

"Your mom knew about what they did," Morino tells him, as if reading his mind.

"I tried to tell her to stop them," Tensei says, looking shame-faced. "All things considered, I'm… kind of glad she didn't."

Izuku taps on the side of his bed, to make sure Mom is looking. He looks to his two friends, lifts his trembling hands, and signs.

"He says, 'Thank you for coming for me,'" Mom tells them.

Todoroki gives him an odd look, and Izuku realizes with a jolt that he's never seen his friend look close to tears before. "Thought you were gonna yell at us," he says quietly.

"I want to." Mom keeps translating for him. She smiles shakily at what he says next. "I'll do it later, when I'm less happy to see you."

This startles a watery chuckle out of Uraraka, and she reaches over to squeeze his uninjured hand. The world goes blurry again.

The next time he wakes up, he gets the feeling that more time has passed than before. He thinks this because Uraraka is gone and Mom is in her place, still holding his hand. She's dropped into a doze, but her hold is firm and warm.

Consciousness slips from him again, and for once Izuku lets it. If the nightmares do come back, then she'll still be there when he wakes up.

Shouta sits in for Midoriya's debriefing the next morning.

Midoriya is dressed and sitting up, arm still fragile but otherwise in one piece. Once this is over, he'll be cleared to go home, and if Shouta has anything to say about it, this will be quick. He shouldn't have anything to worry about, not with Tsukauchi handling things, but Shouta is both unable and unwilling to let go of the protective urges quietly seething within him.

Tsukauchi's first question is simple—What happened after you were taken?—but Midoriya doesn't answer.

The thing is, he tries. Shouta can see it. His mouth cracks open, and his breath quickens a little, but no sound comes out. His uninjured right hand tightens into a fist, and a look of frustration darkens his face. Beside him, his mother keeps her hand on his shoulder.

"He can sign," she says. "I can translate, if you need."

"That would be wonderful, thank you," Tsukauchi tells her, and offers Midoriya a smile. The boy looks uncertain for a moment, then starts answering.

The story is a grim one. Midoriya and Bakugou were kept together, physically restrained and under constant surveillance, for three days straight. They made an unsuccessful joint escape attempt on the first day, which falls in line with what Bakugou said. Most disturbingly, the League's leader, All For One, took an interest in Midoriya for his quirk and its similarity to All-Might, and made a concerted effort to manipulate him to the villains' side.

And Midoriya, to Shouta's retroactive horror, tried his hand at manipulating right back.

Midoriya's face is stone-blank and exhausted as he describes his attempt to free Ragdoll, and its subsequent failure. He can't describe the theft of her quirk without stopping and shaking his head.

"It's all right," Tsukauchi tells him. "And she's okay. She was rescued from the facility—unconscious at the time, but I hear she woke up this morning." Midoriya sits a little straighter at this, eyes wide. "I was wondering, though, about these." He produces an evidence bag, containing the drives that Yaoyorozu had given Shouta the previous night. "Can you tell me what these are, Midoriya? And how you got them?"

Midoriya's face goes dark.

His mother stumbles several times as she translates his answer.

"So let me get this straight," Shouta says quietly, once Midoriya has finished his story. "You played nice with the League of Villains and lied to the face of the most dangerous criminal to ever exist in this country, and got away with their electronic files?"

Midoriya stares at his lap, and nods.

He looks up again at Tsukauchi's voice. "Midoriya, I have one more question for you, at least for now." He pauses. "When searching the remains of the facility, we came across—a body. Dental records came back, identifying him as Dr. Tsubasa Kento." There's a sharp intake of breath from Mrs. Midoriya, and her son stiffens. "We looked into his background, and found that you used to be a patient of his, years ago. Do you know anything about him, or why he was there?"

There's no hesitation. He answers sharply and jerkily, and his face is still angled downward but Shouta can see the pain on his face. Any pity he might have had for the dead man evaporates when he finds out what he did.

"It's my fault he's dead," Midoriya tells them. "I cuffed him to a desk. I wanted to keep him from leaving so he could be arrested. I didn't know All For One was going to blow up the building."

Midoriya Inko's voice breaks as she translates, and she stops to embrace her son.

"Will there be legal consequences?" she asks, her voice muffled.

"Doubtful," Tsukauchi replies. "My quirk lets me detect lies—and yes, it does work with signed languages—and your son has been nothing but truthful so far." He pauses, noting something down. "It would be very difficult to pin blame on either your son or Bakugou-kun for any destruction or injury they caused to villains during their imprisonment. For one thing, the combat authorization that Eraserhead gave them was never retracted. For another, All For One himself is far easier to find guilty. He's… not exactly in a position to defend his innocence at the moment. We'll go through the proper channels. I don't doubt you'll have a great deal of support behind you, after everything that's happened."

Her relief is palpable. Midoriya's face crumples, and he simply nods.

The interview ends shortly after that. Tsukauchi leaves, but Midoriya intercepts Shouta before he can follow suit. Once his student has his attention, he signs again. This time, it's simple enough for Shouta to understand without a need for translation.

"All-Might was taken to a different hospital," he answers. "As far as I know, he's still being treated, but he'll be fine." That he'll be able to return to hero work is highly unlikely, but… that can be left until later. Midoriya deserves to think about himself for a while.

Except…

"Midoriya." His student looks up at his voice. "That burn on your shoulder. Bakugou told me you asked him to do that to you."

Mrs. Midoriya suppresses a sharp gasp. "Izuku, why would—?"

"Is this true?" Shouta asks.

Midoriya nods. He keeps his signs simple when he answers, finger-spelling more words than he probably would normally. All For One had enough quirks to bring us both back if we ran. I stayed to stall them, because they thought they were turning me to their side. I told him to burn me so it'd be more convincing.

Shouta sighs heavily.

It worked, Midoriya says.

"We'll talk more about that later," Shouta says at length. "For now, go home."

"It's safe, then?" Mrs. Midoriya asks.

"Police and underground heroes will have eyes on your home, around the clock," he answers. "But after a loss like this, I doubt you'll have anything to worry about from the League for a while."

That seems to soothe things, at least a little. Shouta leaves them with a polite nod and a single hospital room number, and moves on. There are other matters that need attention.

His students showing up in places they shouldn't, for example.

Izuku doesn't bother looking at his messages.

They're all from the night of the attack on the camp, and he isn't ready to read messages asking him if he was okay at a time when he wasn't, and wouldn't be for another three days. There's one recent call to All-Might's number from a couple of days ago, and he makes a note to ask Mom about that later.

As they make their way through the hospital, Izuku steals a glance at her. She hasn't said much since they left Aizawa-sensei. Mostly she's just looked… thoughtful.

On his other side, Rei hasn't said much either.

The other ghosts have gone back, but Rei is still here, following him like a silent little shadow. Her hair hides her face, and Izuku can't guess what she's thinking or feeling. He hasn't heard her voice again since last night. He hasn't even heard the old noises she used to make instead of talking.

His mother seems to steel herself. "Izuku," she says quietly. "There are… there's something I need to tell you, later. And some conversations we need to have. I'm not upset with you," she says quickly, and gives his hand a quick squeeze. "I'm very, very happy you're all right. I'm proud of you. You've been so brave. But… we do need to talk about this later. All right?"

This brings a nervous flutter to Izuku's stomach, but nothing more than that. He gives her a weak smile, and nods.

"I-in fact, you may be the one who's upset with me," Mom continues, but falls silent when Izuku jerks to a stop.

He does that because of the hand that catches hold of the hem of his jacket, curling into a small fist until he turns to see who it is.

Kouta stares up at him with wide, watering eyes.

Izuku barely notices Mandalay a few steps behind, barely notes that this is the first time he's seen her dressed like a civilian, barely sees Mr. and Mrs. Izumi close by like they always are. He turns around, bending down to reach Kouta's eye level, and the boy throws his arms around his neck and holds tight.

"You're back." Kouta's voice is muffled against his good shoulder, while Izuku fumbles to return the embrace with one arm. "Y-you're back, and you're alive and—" He breaks off, choking on a pitched sob. "You saved me. E-even though I hit you and yelled at you, y-you saved me and you made me laugh instead of getting scared a-and—and Aunt Tomoko says you t-tried to save her too and—"

"Kouta," Mandalay says gently. Izuku shakes his head at her.

"'M sorry," Kouta says. "'M sorry—you got hurt, because of me, and they…"

Izuku pulls back, and Kouta reluctantly lets go and scrubs at the tears on his face. Izuku looks up at Mom to make sure she's watching, and signs.

Mom smiles down at Kouta. "He says you shouldn't apologize for things that aren't your fault. It's better to say 'thank you' instead."

Kouta puts on a wobbly brave face. "Th-thank you," he says.

"He was up late watching, when you were rescued," Mr. Izumi tells him. "After he heard you were safe, he finally slept without any bad dreams."

"How come you're not talking?" Kouta asks.

Sometimes when I get scared enough, it scrambles my brain a little, Izuku explains, while his mother translates. I'll be okay in a little while, promise.

"Midoriya," Mandalay says cautiously. "I know you probably want to go home as soon as you can, but… Ragdoll's been asking after you. If it's not too much trouble, I think it might do her some good to see you."

"We were just on our way," Mom answers. "Aizawa—Eraserhead pointed the way for us."

"We were getting stuff to drink," Kouta says, wiping his nose on his arm with the sort of brusqueness of someone who wants to pretend he hasn't just been crying. "We're on our way back."

Izuku grins back. Lead the way.

The first thing he sees when he steps inside is Tiger. He's hard to miss, and he's still in his battered hero uniform. The next is Pixiebob, half-sitting, half-leaning against the hospital bed as she talks quietly with its occupant.

A small push from Mandalay urges him further into the room, and Ragdoll catches sight of him. Her eyes are red and puffy, like she's only just stopped crying recently, but she smiles when she sees him.

"Hi, kitten."

The world goes blurry. It'll be a cold day in hell before Izuku ever runs dry of tears.

He feels Pixiebob push something into his hands as he walks unsteadily closer, and glances down to see a pen and a piece of paper. He looks up, still teary-eyed, and the heroine gives him a comforting grin. "Mandalay said you might need that."

With shaking hands, he puts the paper on Ragdoll's tray and starts writing.

I'm sorr

His head tingles, and Mandalay's soft voice speaks directly into his mind. Come on, now, Midoriya. What did you just tell Kouta not to do?

Izuku dries a fresh wave of tears on his arm, scribbles out what he just wrote, and tries again.

Thank you for saving me.

Ragdoll laughs quietly, and it sounds all wrong. Laughter isn't supposed to sound that sad. "I wouldn't go that far," she says. "From what I heard, you did plenty of your own saving."

He shakes his head vigorously. You gave me his weaknesses. His handwriting is terrible, but he wants to get this out as fast as he possibly can.

"Wasn't that much," Ragdoll says softly. "Just a last-ditch effort so I wouldn't just leave you with nothing."

He hesitates, hand shaking, teeth grinding, before writing again. When he took your quirk, it weakened him. It was like you told me. He couldn't focus. He missed things that were right in front of him. You gave me his weaknesses before you even met him.

Ragdoll laughs again, voice breaking. "Good," she says, wiping her eyes. "Good, I'm glad—I'm glad if it had to end, I could go out on a note like that."

Izuku glares at her, flips the page over, and writes again.

You'll always be a hero.

She smiles and thanks him, still wiping her eyes, but he can tell she's only humoring him. He circles the always several times, until the point of the pen almost digs through the paper entirely.

"Okay, okay, I get the point." Ragdoll squeezes his shoulder. "I'm glad you got out. I'm glad he didn't do the same to either of you. Because—I've seen it, now. Just a little bit of what you're capable of." Her smile widens, taking up more and more of her face until it's almost what it used to be. "Kitten, you're going to be amazing."

Not ten minutes later, Izuku steps outside of the hospital, looks up, and stops in his tracks yet again. The small courtyard out front is crowded—with ghosts, yes, but also with the living. And among the strangers and passersby going about their business, Izuku sees a cluster of faces he recognizes.

Todoroki is the first face he sees, and then Uraraka, Iida, Kirishima, and Yaoyorozu—the group that came to Kamino to find them. And beyond them, it seems as if the rest of his class showed up, too. Even Bakugou is there, looking down and away as he sits squashed between Kaminari and Ashido.

For a few moments he can only stare at them, wide-eyed. He draws in a breath to make one last fruitless effort to say something, even if it's just a bitten-off thank you. Before he or anyone else can make a sound, he sees Todoroki step forward, struggling a little with something in his arms.

Mika lets out a high-pitched, trilling meow as Todoroki lets her down, and keeps meowing as she trots up to Izuku, tail held high and curling. She circles his ankles a few times, then leaps from the ground to his arms. It's only when Izuku's holding her firmly that her meowing turns to a noisy purr.

Something clicks in his mind, as he holds Mika and watches his friends and classmates move in to greet him. It's only when it happens that he even realizes that it hadn't yet until that point—that he has been walking around, living and functioning without quite internalizing the fact that it's over, that he is safe again and beyond the reach of any villains, and he can go home and eat real food and sleep in his bed and talk to his friends.

They're all around him, warm and real and happy to see him, as Izuku hides his face in his cat's fur and breaks down sobbing.

It feels a bit like this.

He 'sees' All-Might coming, and rushes to meet him in the middle. The feeling of something dragging at him stays, and it's enough to register in his mind as something outside of the ordinary but it's not enough to hold him back.

There's a blow coming, but—

It never lands.

Instead, the world shifts abruptly, like a train breaking from its tracks, and suddenly the air is different.

He can't see, or hear. He can't feel.

He stays like that for what feels like an eon compressed into a few scant minutes, and then the world returns to him.

All-Might does not.

The blow never lands.

Instead, he's sitting on a surface he doesn't recognize. It's not uncomfortable, far from it in fact, but not knowing exactly where he is and how he got there is quite uncomfortable enough.

He reaches out with his senses, probing carefully, and finds himself in a fairly small room that smells of metal and sanitation and quietly thrums with whirring machinery. There is one other individual here with him, but there must be something wrong with his infra-red vision, because he only knows that because he hears them moving and breathing. Beyond this room, he has no idea.

He opens his mouth, ready to probe for information and gauge his situation, but his companion speaks before he has the chance.

"It's been so long. Would you believe me if I said I missed you?" The voice is odd, awkward and halting like a voice not often used.

(Or, more like, a voice whose owner does not know how it sounds.)

He's speechless for a moment, and then he sighs. "This is quite an interesting trick," he says. "I have to wonder how you found out about that—enough to replicate it, even. I look forward to learning."

Soft, hoarse laughter answers him. "Come on, nii-san. Can we skip this part? I've been waiting a long time to talk to you again."

"I also have to wonder what you're trying to accomplish," he says. "You see, he's dead. He's most likely been dead for longer than you've been alive, whoever you are."

"Of course I'm dead," is the reply. "How else do you think we're talking right now?" He ends the question with something else. Just one word. Just a name.

It's then that his mind makes the switch, that he goes from patient skepticism to a simple understanding that this is real. There are quirks in existence that deal in minds and memories, capable of reaching into the deepest crevices of the psyche and dragging ugly, squirming things into light. Perhaps such a quirk might have falsified his younger brother's voice.

But there is no quirk that could force his memory to resurrect his own name.

"I see," he says.

He tries to use his quirks. Any of them, really. He cycles through them one by one, but they all seem so far beyond his reach.

"Hm," he says.

"It takes some getting used to," his brother tells him. "I don't know if you'll get your sight back. I still can't hear. I can read your lips, though."

"Where are we?" he asks.

"That's trusting of you," his brother says. "You have no way of knowing whether I'm telling the truth."

"You always were endearingly honest. Such a pity, because you were clever, too."

"True." His brother laughs softly. "We're in a secure facility, in the room where your body is being kept."

"Ah." That would explain the smell, and the smallness of the place. "Then we're still… here?"

"For now." His brother heaves a sigh. "My line of successors have mostly moved on by now, but I stayed."

"Interesting." This had never occurred to him, the idea that there might be more to do after his death. Perhaps he can salvage the pieces of his legacy. Perhaps, in some small way, he can still guide Tomura from beyond the veil. "Perhaps I'm not quite as finished as I first thought."

"Oh, no," his brother says. "You definitely are. No matter which you choose, your path ends here."

Annoyance pricks at him, sharper than it ever did when he was alive. "Do you think that you have a say, just because I can hear your voice again?"

"It's not about what I want," his brother answers. "It's more about what the others want."

This gives him pause. "…Others?"

"Nii-san," his brother says patiently. "What makes you think I'm the only one who's been waiting for you to die?"

For a moment, the small room seems just a bit colder than before. His senses are dulled in death, the quirks that sharpened them no longer answering his call. And yet, it seems as if the walls are creeping closer. Fear, he realizes distantly. He had forgotten what that felt like.

"The old stories are true, you know," his brother says. "The more painful and violent the death, the more powerful the ghost."

"I see." With that drop of knowledge, the fear is beaten back. "This is good news, then, considering the nature of my death."

The room is quiet for a moment. Then—"Oh." His brother sounds surprised. "Oh, you aren't dead yet."

"…What?"

"You aren't dead," his brother repeats. "But you're never going to be alive again, I'm afraid. It wasn't All-Might's blow that killed you, as it happens. The life support in your helmet malfunctioned at the last minute—shut down your brain functions. You're still on life support, technically, but you aren't going to wake up again."

"I… I see." There must be a way around this. Isn't there? Doesn't he always find a way?

"They'll be keeping you alive," his brother continues. "You're a biological marvel, given the nature of your abilities.. Apparently they believe there's still much to be learned from you. But eventually it'll run out, or their funding will run out, and they'll give you something that I'll bet you never thought you'd have."

No—

"A peaceful death," his brother says. "You'll die in your sleep, surrounded by family. Deaths like that never leave much of a ghost behind."

"And then what?" he asks. "What happens after that?"

"That's where your choice comes in," his brother says. "You can try to stay in this world. You can try to leave this room. You can meet all the souls who are waiting for you just outside."

He doesn't need to breathe anymore, but it still hisses through his clenched teeth.

"I convinced them to stay there, by promising to tell them the moment you finally died. But I'm not always honest, because that can very well be a lie, if you choose the other option." He pauses. "We can leave, when you die. We don't have to go anywhere special to do it. We don't even have to leave this room to leave the world."

Hands clasp one of his, cold and slender but strong. He tries to pull his hand back, but he doesn't try nearly as hard as he could.

"Come with me," his brother says. "You've been here too long. And I know it's hard to be honest with yourself, especially for someone who lies so well as you do, but you know that this world isn't yours anymore. It hasn't been for a very long time. Come with me."

"Merciful, aren't you?" he says. "You spent a lifetime fighting against me, hating me and everything I stood for. And if you really have been waiting for me, then you've seen all the things I've done while you've been gone. Why would you try to help me now?"

"Because this world isn't mine, either," his brother says. "There is nothing for me here—nothing but you. I can't say whether or not you deserve what's waiting for you outside this room. I can't say whether or not it would help their pain to make you suffer." His voice catches, and he pauses. "But you're all I have left, nii-san. We're all we have left."

The hands release him.

"But, like I said. You aren't dead yet, and you won't be for a while yet, not until they're done with you. You have plenty of time to think about your choices, and decide what you want and what you're willing to risk."

His brother's voice sounds farther away, as if he's settling himself into a far corner to wait.

"Take your time, nii-san. I can wait a little longer for you."