Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The mist hung low amongst the roots, rising as the night grew and air chilled, reaching for the interwoven branches straining to fill the forest. The branches hung with ropes, ribbons and all manner of trinkets, reflecting the moon’s light as it filtered through the thick leaves of the ancient woodland. The frigid cold pierced his lungs as he trekked along the forgotten path, grass crunching with frost beneath his feet where it had grown over the dirt trail, neglected and forgotten.
His laboured breaths looked like the smoke of a dragon, oh how only a few years ago as a young boy he would sit with his father and pretend that he too could breathe fire, exhaling the cold air of his little lungs with a soft whoosh sound. His father would always laugh and Inko would giggle behind her hands as she fondly watched on, the experience so similar to when Izuku would lie next to her on the couch staring at his figurines trying to pull them through the air to his hand.

He would’ve given anything for it to have worked just once…

Just one lick of flames…

Just a twitch of movement…

Anything.

The cold water of the crystal river soaked through his ripped hightops, red as the day he got them, but no longer with dye, no, that would be far too nice. At least the shoes will forever have a piece of himself? The glacial water dancing around his ankles to the ancient tune of the wind, unfathomable to his mortal ears, twirling and spinning not a care for the boy within it, flowing unchanged as it would any other day.

The shallow water soaking his feet created a perfect contrast to the warm fluid saturating his face, the putrid, sweet smell of his burning flesh long since faded into the air, the only reminder the crimson coating his skin, the newly formed stiff scabs ripping when he moves, dripping viscous red onto his lips, creating a nauseating coating in his mouth. His eyes filled with blood, no emerald green to be seen.

The crackling of Kacchan’s palms.

The pop of explosions.

Smoke curling off his skin.

The screaming that went on until his throat was raw unheard over the treacherous sound of his own heartbeat.

The searing pain, the last thing he saw was the vicious grin of his former friend, destined to be a great hero as Izuku SCREAMED!

As Izuku wailed.

As he tried to pry the hands from his face.

As the nitroglycerine ignited.

As the explosion threw his head back.

As he saw a bright light and then nothing. All he sees now is black and red.

The forest of rich greens and sky of sparkling lights no longer comfort the boy as he walks his familiar path, known only to him, walked only by those who enter the forest but never leave. The natural beauty of spiraled bark, the blue and green lichen lost to the boy’s unseeing eyes, so burnt that blinking causes layers to fall off like shaved cheese.
As he sobs the scars over the top of his face rip, dripping more crimson down his head, into the small stream as he steps out, continuing deeper. The only sound is the ringing of his ears, the hiccuping sobs and the calm winds blowing through the trees, an immortal melody of elegance.

For the forest cares not for the boy, nor does the world outside of it, a city of those who scorn and spit, beat and kick, mock and disparage the dreams of a boy too young and too kind to save himself. As tears fall from the boy’s worn, unseeing eyes, like water through a crack in a brick wall he reaches the middle of the forest. He may not have a map, nor have ever gone this deep but in his bones he can feel it, he is deep in the forest, surrounded on every side, never to find his way out of its magnetic pull.

He sits between the roots of the banyan tree (A.N. Look it up, so cool, so magical looking), hidden from the world, surrounded by the same darkness of night that haunts him. A faint rattling can be heard as his hand slides into the burnt and bloodied gakuran, out comes a small clear tube, a cracking sound as he rips off the lid losing it beside himself in the maze of wood, not that he would need it again.

Swallowing one after another, no more tears drop from his eyes, ducts long since scabbed over, coagulated blood blocking any attempts at the Midoriya flood. His stomach rumbled and roiled, the pills the only filling to his empty stomach in days, he had to buy them after all, he may be leaving but he would not be stealing from a poor shopkeep.

His esophagus burned with acid attempting to rise out as he waited.

As his body shook.
As his ears rang between the sounds of his own fast beating heart.
As the internal chill met the external.
As the thumping of his heart began to slow.
As his muscles burned with an attempt to do something, anything.
As his heart grew quieter and less active.
As froth filled his mouth and spilled out his lips, sticky as it mixed with blood.
As his lungs burned for air.

As

his

heart

stopped

beating

The wind blew, the river danced and the mist blanketed the forest.

-=+=-

His eyes did not close, he didn’t have a moment of restful peace, no calm before death, just searing pain filling his insides, matching his outsides for hours as his body shut down. His body had trembled, muscles tore themselves in an attempt to save their host, heart fought to keep pumping. His body, tangled with the roots, grew cold as the night went on and the sun peeked over the trees.

-=+=-

At school the next day Bakugou was the only one to glance at Deku’s desk, his classmates laughing jovially about the boy not coming in. The teacher silenced them with a smile on his face, marking Midoriya Izuku absent.

At home Inko sat in her one bedroom apartment, none the wiser that her spawn had finally offed himself, content that he was already dead, dropped on the streets years ago.

In the alley filled with analysis notebooks and a small blanket stash a few cats meowed wondering where their little green spaceheater was to warm and pet them.

On a rooftop Eraserhead wondered where the young boy he had been following was, last night coming back home meal still in hand, Hizashi trying to comfort him saying that maybe the boy had forgotten their nightly dinners, that the little green listener might have found a shelter for the night too far from their meeting spot. Yeah, the kid was allowed to miss one meeting with a stranger every once in a while, after all they had been meeting for months, something could have come up.

In the forest a body lies limp amongst the oldest tree, another corpse in a forest of hundreds, but as this boy’s blood soaks the roots and the soil the forest shifts, enclosing the boy for while it cares not for him, he is now apart of it, his soul forever trapped in its foliage.

‘Perhaps this boy could be more?’ The forest wonders as it hugs the boy tightly, ‘Perhaps we could help the one who helped so many others?’

And Izuku inhales.

Chapter Text

People say that the forest beside Mustafu was alive, that it was born before quirks and would still exist long after. People say the forest will never die, the root systems too complex to be removed for city scaping and the plants too dense to ever dry out. People say the forest is strong, no matter how many tried it still stood.

People say that the forest beside Mustafu was alive, that its roots held memories, its leaves the future and the winds its will, and tonight the winds howled.

The winds howled as the oldest tree in the oldest forest, the unkillable forest, splintered, sap leaking from each deep crack. The tree split with the sound of thunder cracking, the birds moving en masse, the deer startling and the forest crying at the loss of one of its oldest members. As the tree broke down to smaller and smaller pieces its roots began to move, ripping the earth as they ascended.

The roots plunged into the small boy’s body, cracking bones and tearing apart flesh. The roots embedded themselves on the boy as the sap flowed down them, filling the wounds with milky white as the roots themselves also shattered. As the last pieces of the tree crumbled to nothing a gentle wind surrounded its now dust covered place in the forest, swirling around. The wind kicked up the ancient dust, twirling and dancing in the most spectacular of patterns, the zephyr so gentle compared to the storm it rages outside the canopy, coating the boy in the wood powder like a mother would lay a blanket upon their young child.

Like that where the mammoth of the forest once stood a young boy now lies, as much a human as he is the son of the forest, the new seed of the bayan tree, the holder of the wisdom of the winds, the power of the branches, the grace of the rivers and the intelligence of the roots. The forest chose this boy for greater things than the one tree could achieve, the spirit believing its power better placed in the hands of the young boy who decided his final resting place amongst its roots.

-=+=-

It was rainy, it was windy, it was the biggest fucking storm Shouta had ever seen! The rain pelted against their windows, trees thrashing as cafe chairs and signs flew down the streets with the force of the gales. The air outside felt like ice, he was meant to patrol today but his capture scarf wouldn’t even get 30 centimetres in front of him before it flew wherever the wind wanted. His eyes couldn’t stay open against the winds and he was slipping on the flooded roof tops.

To say the least, most heroes were relieved of duty today and villain activity was at an all time low, no one without a death wish was going outside. There were no muggings with no pedestrians, no robberies when most businesses were closed, heck the rain was putting out any fire that dared start. UA was closed for the day because no students could get there and Shouta’s cats were hiding under the lounge and behind the fridge because of the thunder.

Yet during all of this all Aizawa could think about was the too thin boy he would feed on his patrols, that boy was out there in the deadly storm. All he could see when he closed his eyes was the drenched corpse of a young green haired boy lying in an alley somewhere and Aizawa couldn’t do anything! He hadn’t seen the boy in days. Maybe he got to a shelter before the storm started? That though was immediately shut down with the memory of the too young voice;

“Yeah, as if a shelter would take care of someone as useless as me.”

Shouta sits alone in his house, his cats long since fallen asleep, wind hammering the water against his windows, the lightning shorting his building’s power and all he can think of is the little green boy.

-=+=-

Hizashi just wanted to be home and cuddled up with his husband, not in the cold police station during this damn storm! But of course they just needed him for this case. He sits around the table, head of police on his left (at the table’s head), Nedzu next to him, Kaumi Woods to his right, the Wild Wild pussycats on the other side of the table.

Couldn’t they wait until tomorrow to brief them? No of course not, because of course this storm wasn’t just a storm, because of course it was localised and of course the forest for some reason had no storm activity in the middle and of course that same forest was the epicentre at which the winds were coming from because THAT MADE SENSE! Gosh, he feels like Sho right now with his pounding headache.

“Thank you all for coming here on such short notice and I’m glad you made it safe. As I’m sure most of you know the forest bordering Mustafu has been there as long as the city itself, every attempt to cut it down has resulted in failure, every body a criminal dumps there is spit back out and almost everyone who has gone in hasn’t come back out. Every camera around the forets has been reduced to parts by the storm but there were reports of a child entering earlier this evening. We believe this child could be the cause of this storm, they were said to look around the age of a young teen in a middle school uniform. It is to our understanding that this could be a quirk specific attack, either willingly or he has been threatened.”

That poor little listener, they must be terrified even if it is their own quirk.

“On top of that we have called all of you in the name of safety. The Wild Wild Pussycats are here to aid in forest navigation, communications as the storms are damaging our radios and as defence. Kaumi you are also here as defence and capture. Present Mic you will be our heavy hitter if something goes wrong and Nedzu we need your help identifying the quirk when we enter and finding the best way to stop it.”

On that last word the chief stands with the scrape of his chair, leading everyone to one of their heavier villain transport vehicles as they drive to the forest edge. On his shoulder Hizashi can hear Nedzu’s chittering mutters only catching a few words here and there of storm, boy, UA and honestly he doesn’t want to know what is going through that rat’s head.

-=+=-

As they exit the vehicle into the thrashing winds, water like rocks on their skin the forest seems to churn and twist. Walking in, Present Mic at the front, Kaumi Woods flanking and the Pussy Cats in the centre, Nedzu perched upon Tiger. The Police Chief wished them well and drove back to the station, needing to instruct his men through the power outages of the storm.

Walking into the dark forest, soil flooded and soft beneath their feet, cold soaking their skin, Hizashi felt as though every tree was watching him, every leaf whispering beneath the gales surrounding, he felt as though every drop of water brought with it an ever impending doom.

After over 20 minutes of inching into the forest to the supposed epicentre a BOOM louder than any thunder that night shook the very earth, the sound alone forcing all but Hizashi to the ground, too used to loud noises and hearing aids already low to block out some of the thunder.

“Oohoohoo, now that was spectacular!” Nedzu says with a wide grin, his excitement palpable, terrifying.
“What was? That fucking thunder?” Replies Kaumi Woods now mud-soaked.
“No, no, that wasn’t thunder, that was energy, pure energy made from pure destruction! Ooh, how exciting!”

-=+=-

As Izuku rose it seemed as though the forest bowed, the grass bending, the flowers turning to him as if he were the sun, the streams slowing, quieting, waiting for the word of the boy.

-=+=-

The heroes stared in wonder as the storm raging silenced within the forest every movement stilled, somehow a whisper of calm and hope flooded through each of them, but also fear.

-=+=-

Nedzu is proud of his animalistic nature, but at this moment, at this moment he wished to be human, to be ignorant to the natural world. At this moment Nedzu can feel a shift, the forest that has breathed life into Mustafu, into Japan for years is about to change and he is but a simple animal within the system, it will change with or without him. He hasn’t felt this helpless since he was created.

-=+=-

Hizashi had never seen Nedzu truly stop, no smile, no tail movement, no gleam in his eye, no, he was dead still and that, that was terrifying.

-=+=-

The boy was not the forest’s king, no, their king was now gone, reduced to dust. This boy, this boy was the champion of the banyan tree, the bridge between the old world of the forest and the new world of quirks, this boy is the sprite of the forest, he is destined for so much more than he could ever know.

Long is the day, and long is the night, and long is the waiting of the forest’s sprite. But Izuku needn’t wait any longer; he could see now.

No, not with his eyes, they were scarred over, the tree’s healing only fixing what it deemed necessary and the forest didn’t see, the forest felt .

Izuku’s hair had faded from vibrant green to the white of the bayan sap, his burns now scars as strong as tree bark, his eyes unseeing of the physical but seeing so much more.

Izuku could see everything, every life, every connection, he could see the bugs beneath his feet as they loosened the soil for the awaiting seeds, he could see the trees as they housed young birds, he could see how the sick mother owl still lives to see its chicks fly, he could see how the rotting branches on the forest floor’s life fade but beneath it the snakes flourish.

He could see every connection.

He could see a beauty he never imagined.

He could see the perfection of the forest and how limited those outside of it were.

He could see what he needed to do.

-=+=-

Izuku’s dream of family and friends died with him.

Izuku’s love of the forest was reborn with him.

The forest saved Izuku where no one else did, and he will help it grow!

-=+=-

And with that the forest exploded outwards, the heroes flung from its dense grasp into a now stormless city, the skies instantly cleared and the forest closed off. The trees shifting and writhing, blocking any vision into the forest.