Chapter Text
Izuku felt the best. He felt soooo good. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good. And not emotionally. Not at all. What he felt currently was purely physical. Also strikingly familiar, though he couldn’t quite place it. Gosh, if only his eyelids didn’t weigh fifty metric tonnes each, then he could try looking around.
Wait a second. That wasn’t normal. Eyelids didn’t weigh that much.
Maybe if he just-
FUDGE!
Izuku felt the worst. The pain that accompanied the act of opening his eyes was unbearable. It made him want to die. Tears had already begun to well up as he got a good look at his surroundings. That’s what this was all for, right? He forgot the pain and focused on what was in front of him.
White.
Wait, not just any white…
The hospital! That’s where I am! It all felt familiar because he was hopped up on his regular high dosage of pain-killers! Wow, I’m so good at analysis. Why didn’t I make a career out of that?
Izuku got distracted as he thought more about his old hero analysis notebooks and how he hadn’t picked one up in months. There was a time when he’d spent half of his life on hero analysis. Then he got One For All. Then his first year at U.A. happened. Then the wa-
Reality washed over him in a cold shower as memories came flooding back. An overwhelming number, all simultaneously flooding his mind until it seemed to triple its capacity. Thoughts he couldn’t bring himself to think. Thoughts for later, he promised himself, his mind too addled by drugs to inform him of how stupid it was that he was lying to his own mind. All that mattered now was that he was safe. He was safe. It was over. It was done. All For One was done. All For One was dead. Dead. Dead. Ka-
No.
Izuku hadn’t noticed it throughout his internal battle, but that battle was causing his heart monitors to go wild. He was also unaware of the sleeping figure in the corner of his room, who was pulled out of uneasy slumber by the sounds of the machines. Izuku was only pulled out of his thoughts by a timid voice he’d known his entire life.
“Izuku?”
That voice anchored him. It pulled him back down to reality. Not the mangled one that had begun to take shape in his thoughts. This was the real thing. He was Izuku Midoriya. He’d just fought and ended a war spanning generations, and he was now covered head-to-toe in bandages in casts. On a bed in what was most likely Central Hospital. He was in pain, but it was a fraction of what the many tubes of medication being pumped into him were actively hiding. There were alarms sounding around him trying to alert doctors of his current state, but they were beginning to quiet down as a fragile calm overtook him. Remembering the pain from simply opening his eyes, he felt a small sense of dread as he opened his mouth to reply.
“Mom?”
He could hear the sound of shuffling, and from the bottom of his frame of vision, his mom came into view. It hurt to see her in the state she was. She appeared to have not slept at all recently, with pronounced dark bags below her eyes. Her green hair usually pulled back into a ponytail was loose and unkept. And she looked heartbroken, tears already pouring down her face.
Before he could physically bring himself to protest, his mom immediately alerted the doctors that he was awake. His feeble ‘no’ went completely unheard, and he didn’t press on since his mom had now fallen to the knees at his bedside, crying into an exposed part of the mattress.
“Izuku, I’m so sorry.”
A sharp pain followed Izuku's watering eyes, remembering this moment twelve years ago. How he wished more than anything that his mom would reaffirm his dreams. How he just needed someone, anyone, to believe in him. In his dream.
Here he laid. His dream was accomplished. Deku, the successor of All Might. Deku, wielder of the most powerful quirk in the world. Deku, the vanquisher of the world's greatest evil.
Deku, the hero.
Now, all he wanted to do was apologize to his mom. He wanted to say the words that had been in the back of his mind for his entire life. He wanted to ask his mom the one question she’d never answered, that had come to him when all seemed lost. But he couldn’t, and tears had always come even if he didn’t want them. So he cried with her. Cried until his broken ribs threatened to crack under the sobs. Cried until the doctors finally came. Cried until Recovery Girl had to beg him to stop before he damaged his body any more.
He never did, and the world went black.
***
When Izuku opened his eyes again, things had changed significantly. For one thing, everything hurt much less. He’d also had the bandages restricting his head movement completely removed, freeing him to look around the room. It was a different one, and his brain quickly supplied that he’d been moved out of emergency care. The room felt much less hospital-like, though the only real difference was the light blue walls and black curtains. When he turned to his left, his eyes widened.
There was a mountain of, well, what he had to assume was everything. Flowers, cards, boxes upon boxes upon boxes, and then some more flowers. There were drawings too. Some likely drawn by little kids, and some belonging in a museum with their intricate beauty. And they were all of him. Some of them with the words ‘Deku’ or ‘hero’ or messages he couldn’t quite make out in the dark. Not one looked like the other, either. He wondered how many people had put in the time to make these gifts for him. It was too sweet.
He didn’t deserve any of it.
He turned away to find the other side of the bed with a similar mountain, if only a little smaller, and asleep on a chair beside the mountain was his mom. He swore not to cry again this time. He felt better. Doctors would not be storming in again. There were things he needed to say.
“Mom.”
She opened her eyes immediately. Relief washed over him as he noticed that his mom appeared to have left his bedside while he was out. The relief was quickly washed away as his mom appeared to be ready to press the button again. She was also crying again, but Izuku knew better than anyone that she couldn’t help it.
“Mom, please don’t.” His voice came out raspy. And no wonder it did, because his mouth felt completely dry. Inko did not understand what he’d meant, and froze at the words. “No doctors,” he managed. Her look was only of concern.
“Izuku, I have to,” she explained, getting to her feet.
“Mom.” It was all he could manage. He needed water. He spotted a bottle by the foot of the chair his mom had just risen out of. He pointed at it and Inko scrambled for it. After she’d finished delicately pouring it into his mouth with trembling hands, he gasped with a swallow.
“Thank you.”
Their eyes met, both filled with tears despite neither of them crying. Well, Izuku wasn’t.
“Izu-”
“What happened to dad?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Even if he needed to know, his mom didn’t deserve to have those be the first words she heard from him after what he could only assume was at least days of recovery. He was being selfish. Cruel, even. But a man he barely knew was one of his last thoughts on death’s door. Patience was a luxury that he couldn’t afford anymore, for better or worse.
He waited for his mom to wail. That was usually her response when he inquired. He’d obviously understand if she needed a little time before giving him any answer, but he was a little shocked to see the crying had stopped. She only stood frozen, as if she’d seen a ghost.
He waited.
Waited until he wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. An answer? Acknowledgement? This was stupid, he thought to himself. He was about to apologize, but then his mom spoke.
“Your father, Hisashi and I… we fell in love young.” Inko pulled the chair closer to his bedside and sat down so they were at the same height. She reached over and placed her hand on his hand, or rather the thick cast that covered it. Looking at his mom, he saw a look he’d never seen on her before. Nostalgic.
“We were in high school, getting ready to enter a broken world, when we met. You need to understand, Izuku, Back then, the world wasn’t the one you grew up in. Not as bad as now, but it was bad. There was crime, violence, and death everywhere. When you found happiness, you stuck with it. And we were happy. We were happy when we married. When we had you.” Any positive emotion on her face drained after that. “But when the new era of peace came, a lot of people my age and older began reconsidering their lives. Myself included, I’m ashamed to admit, but especially your father.”
“He was always very ambitious. Very intelligent. Headstrong. He was a lot like you in that respect. But it could make him very selfish sometimes.” Izuku suppressed a sob, not wanting to interrupt his mom. “When he got offered a big job in China, he took it immediately without asking me. He left with promises of returning every weekend to see us, but there was something off about the whole situation. It all got worse when we learned you were quirkless.”
“That night, while you were in your room watching that All Might rescue video, we fought. Hisashi struggled to come to terms with it, especially when it was such a rare thing for kids your age. I hadn’t expected it, but he brought up moving to China permanently for the first time that night. Alone.”
Izuku racked his brain for any indication of that in his memories. He’d never forget that night. It had defined his life, his relationship with his mom, for over a decade. He was pretty sure he’d remember hearing fighting in the background, but no recollection came. He was only four, after all.
“I screamed at him. For everything. For being an awful father. An awful husband. Then I made him take the few possessions he left at home, and I kicked him out. For good.”
Izuku failed to contain his sob, and how could he when his world was falling to pieces around him. Over a decade. Over ten years of quietly resenting his mom. All that time, never opening up to her even when his life brought him nothing but pain. Of longing for a father that was out working to ‘support their lives’. Years of fractured confidence and doubting his worth as a person. Hoping for a dream that he would still secretly consider certainly unattainable if he hadn’t already gotten it, because that was the only thing that would fix everything.
All of this stemmed from a misunderstanding? Yeah, he was crying. He was sobbing uncontrollably. And his mom sobbed with him, unaware of the true reasons behind his feelings at all. Unaware because he’d never let her in.
When he settled down, he had to confirm what he’d already puzzled together. “When you came into my room…”
“You remember?” she asked, sniffling. “It all just came crashing down on me. The fight. You not being able to live your dream. It was the one thing every parent in the era of peace wanted their child to have. What we didn’t. It all felt like it was my fault. You probably had no idea what I meant…”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” It came out broken. “I thought y-you were telling me I couldn’t live my dreams, mom. Why didn’t you tell me?” He was pleading now. Inko wanted to respond, but no words would come. She couldn’t bear to see her son in that state. Izuku continued sobbing, his body shaking, and his mom got out of her chair to wrap him in a delicate embrace.
She held him as he cried, not saying a word, and Izuku wanted to hear more. He wanted to finish this long-overdue conversation. But he hadn’t realized how tired he was, and sleep overtook him once the sobs had subsided.
***
He woke up for the third time in the same room as last time, the only difference being that it was daytime. His body was still in the same state as when he’d fallen asleep last, although the bandages seemed fresh in some places. When he turned to the side, looking for his mom, he was shocked by the sight in front of him.
Kacchan!
His first thought was immediately disregarded, as he quickly realized that it wasn’t Kacchan, but rather Mitsuki. Masaru sat beside her, and they both noticed he was awake as soon as his head turned.
Mitsuki was fast to call the doctors, while Masaru kept him distracted by overwhelming him with questions. He could only widen his eyes.
“Fuckin’ back off, you’re overwhelming him,” Mitsuki barked at her husband. He obediently took a step back.
“Sorry, Izuku,” he said sweetly, and Izuku could only croak ‘water’ since his throat had completely dried up again. Masaru handed his wife a bottle from the bedside table and rushed out of the room to fulfill the request. Mitsuki made sure he got enough water before she sat back down. Seeing her - seeing both of them - brought back old memories of playdates at the Bakugou house. Playing with his friend while their parents laughed at their antics.
Then came much more recent and painful memories of his friend.
“Is Ka-”
“He’s in a coma,” Mitsuki answered easily, though he could tell she was masking her true feelings for his sake. “The brat had to go ahead and come back from the dead to get even more injured, didn’t he?” He could tell it was hard for her to maintain a positive exterior. Something told him that he wasn’t the only Midoriya she’d done this for, which made him grateful.
“How are you feeling?” Izuku flinched at the sudden change to concern. Seeing the way her face melted into something so affectionate, especially with the practically identical child she’d mothered that he knew all too well, was a little terrifying in all honesty. “You had me completely terrified, Izuku. Watching you fight for your life. For all of us.” She paused. “For him. Nobody will be able to repay you for that.”
“I’m fine. K-”
“Don’t lie to me, Izuku. You’ve been out for almost two weeks now. Hell, I’d just tell you to look at your body, but I’m not sure you can physically do that.”
Izuku smiled a little at that, but something deep inside his mind that he wouldn’t visit screamed at her to just talk about fucking Kacchan! He was about to try again, but Masaru interrupted with a team of doctors and a water bottle in hand.
The doctors then took him through the most agonizing hour of examinations he’d ever endured. It wasn’t physically painful in the slightest, but having to answer all these questions when he just wanted to hear how Kacchan was made it a torrid affair. And an hour was a long time with a mind that went as fast as his. Kacchan stayed, but All Might joined him. Then his classmates. Ochako against Toga. Shoto against his brother. All his classmates, all the pro heroes that had fought All For One. He’d seen them all. Seen their bloodsoaked bodies. That wasn’t just in his dreams. That was real. Were they okay? Were they alive? How many people were lost because he’d let Toga waste his time like an idiot?
Kacchan was lost, wasn’t-
“Deku, sir, would you please look up?”
Izuku looked up and was met with an awful sight. He then wanted to cry because the doctor was holding up a mirror. And yes, that was exactly like a joke Kacchan had targeted at him when they were younger, which only brought his thoughts right back to square one. He was genuinely unable to hear the head surgeon’s words though, completely fixated on his face.
He’d never had much issue with the scarring One For All had caused his arms since, well, they were arms. Sure, sometimes he felt eyes on him when wearing a t-shirt, or in the locker room. Sometimes he wore extra long-sleeved shirts in hot weather. But that was manageable. His face on the other hand…
Plain was a word used to describe him by most people in terms of facial appearance. There was nothing to his face, and that was okay. Now there was definitely something, and that something was a scar running down from the top of his forehead to under his eye on the right side of his face in the shape of Shigaraki’s index finger and thumb. He’d only touched him for a split second, but that had given Decay enough time to leave a scarring similar to those left by One For All. Who’s going to want someone this ugly as number one?
Izuku was beyond grateful that the thoughts coincided with the doctors’ exit, because he started to tear up. Mitsuki and Masaru instantly went to comfort him, but Izuku wasn’t weak. He sniffled and looked up determinedly.
“I want to know how Kacchan is.”
The husband and wife froze. Masaru turned to his wife, but she wouldn’t move. Izuku started to feel bad for pushing it, and felt awful when she rushed out the door. He tried to apologize, but Masaru placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.
“She’ll be okay, Izuku. She just has a lot of feelings about Katsuki that she’s holding until he’s conscious enough to get the full brunt of it.”
He said it like it was the most normal thing in the world, and Izuku felt himself smiling a little because that was the exact sort of petty thing he’d expect Kacchan to do. Not just petty, though. Because Mitsuki and Kacchan were more similar than just in looks. That was how they showed they cared.
If you cared about Kacchan he wouldn’t-
“How is he?”
“He’s doing much better than expected,” Masaru said confidently, still smiling. “Doctor’s estimate a 50% chance of waking up soon.”
Yup. That was the breaking point. He started sobbing. Masaru’s smile fell.
“Right. I’m sorry, I should’ve said before: it was single digit chances of survival two weeks ago. He’s progressed amazingly.”
And the rational part of his mind told him yeah, that’s amazing. Kacchan’s amazing. The rest of his mind was horrified that Kacchan had had such low chances of survival. Because that just served to prove the truth that had been stirring in his mind in every waking moment. It was his fault. He’d almost killed-
“Enough of this!” He completely lost his train of thought as Mitsuki burst into the room, looking furious. “Stop crying like he’s fucking dead, because he’s not. He’s going to wake up and he’s going to live so he can suffer through what he put us through by pulling that shit. When has he ever been anything less than the top percentile? When has my son ever been anything less than the best? Tell me, Izuku!”
She was completely right, and he deserved to get yelled at. Because when has Kacchan ever been less than the best? Never, his mind answered, despite the question obviously being rhetorical.
“Thank you, Micchan,” he said, the childhood nickname slipping out. He remembered how it bothered Kacchan when they were little because it sounded too much like Kacchan, and the tears stopped. Mitsuki calmed down, her fury being promptly replaced by guilt.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you, hon,” she said. “I-”
“Don’t apologize. I-I needed that. Thank you.”
Izuku stayed with the Bakugous for the next hour, until a nurse came with his lunch. Izuku insisted that they go and get some food, assuring them that he’d just sleep after his meal. It took some convincing, but he was eventually left alone with a table brought high enough that he could crane his neck down and drink the bowl of miso soup. Before he could start, he glanced out the door and locked eyes with two familiar sets of eyes.
Within seconds, Denki Kaminari was bursting into his room, followed by a reluctant Hitoshi Shinso. They were both holding trays of food similar to his, except they got to eat solids.
“Midoriya! When did you wake up?”
Hitoshi scowled at him, before giving an apologetic look to Izuku. “Sorry Midoriya. Denki’s only still here because his quirk permanently fried his brain.”
“Hey!”
Izuku was smiling. Hearing people were alive was one thing, but actually seeing them right in front of him put him at ease. “It’s okay, Shinso-kun. And this is one of the first times I’ve been fully conscious, Kaminari-kun.”
Denki's mouth opened comically in surprise. “Dude, are we the first people you’ve seen?” And the question confused Izuku since they must’ve been close enough to see the Bakugous leave his room seconds before their arrival. He wasn’t wrong either, if Hitoshi’s renewed exasperation was anything to go by.
“I can brainwash him anytime if you want to be alone.”
Before the two could start bickering, Izuku cut in. “A-Actually, do you guys want to eat here?”
Izuku liked both of them. They were both his friends, and they all shared an unbreakable bond now. That’s why he offered. Not because he was scared to be left alone to his thoughts for a minute too long.
Denki was giving him the brightest smile. “Of course we do, man!”
Denki immediately demanded that they start going through the gifts, which Izuku quickly agreed to out of curiosity and because he did need physical assistance in the whole ‘opening’ department. Izuku asked to open the cards first, because that felt courteous. When Denki opened the first one (“hey, Kami-kun, be gentle with the envelope!”,”It’s an envelope.”), there was silence between them as a piece of paper fell to the ground. Denki picked it up and his jaw dropped.
“I-” he chose not to finish the thought, and instead handed it to Hitoshi who was seated closer to him. Hitoshi held it up for both of them to see the slip of paper. It was written in English, and appeared to be from America. But what caught Izuku’s eyes was not the country of origin, but rather the large number scrawled on it. There were a lot of zeroes.
“The card says that it came from the United Nations. The governments of the world put the money together for you so you wouldn’t need to work for the rest of your life.”
The silence that followed was a strange one. Izuku didn’t know how to react because why would he? This hadn’t even been on his radar. And it was so much. What was he going to do with what he was pretty sure converted into trillions of yen (pre-war)? Who in their right mind possibly approved giving that much to a teenager?
“Midoriya? Are you alright?”
Obviously not Shinso-kun, I’m now the richest child in the world. Izuku disregarded that thought, because there was a pretty clear solution.
“It can be used to rebuild the country,” he said out loud, barely believing it. Not that it wouldn’t be used for that purpose. Izuku would make sure every bit of it went towards fixing the country. What worried him was that, despite it being an unfathomable amount of money for him personally, it was only a fraction of what would be needed to restore Japan after the last few months had razed the country.
The consensus between them was to ignore the gifts for now, and Izuku was grateful because he was now a little terrified of people’s generosity (though he doubted anyone could touch the unattainable levels of ‘unnecessary’ that was the governments of the world trying to fund his entire life).
So they ate. The soup was actually very good, and Hitoshi explained that a lot of professional chefs, along with professionals in all other areas, were all volunteering their services for the recovering heroes.
“I’m telling you, Mido,” Denki said before swallowing his food, “when you’re up and moving, you’ve gotta come to the dining area with us for dinner. All the students get this huge table, and it’s like the one time a day we get to just hang out. When are you getting all this removed?”
He didn’t have to gesture at his body awkwardly for Izuku to understand. “They said that I’ll be able to move in a wheelchair with assistance soon. That’s when they’ll remove everything but the stuff on my arms.” That’s at least what the doctor’s had told him, though Izuku omitted that the casts might never come off of his arms. Because he’d come to terms with that a long time ago, and he didn’t want to worry his two friends.
They tried to continue chatting, but stopped when the door opened again. It was the second time he watched a furious woman storm into his room in the last hour, only this time it was Recovery Girl sending death glares at his visitors.
“What are you doing here? Can you not let this poor boy rest? After all he’s done for you?”
Denki and Hitoshi hung their heads in shame, but Izuku knew he felt more guilty than they did. He was the one who invited them. “Recovery Girl, don’t-”
“No, Mido, she’s right. You need to recover as fast as possible so we can hang out again.” They both got out of their seats and went to the door, walking past a stern Recovery Girl. Before they left, Hitoshi turned around.
“Thank you, Midoriya. For saving us.”
“Shinso-kun…”
“Mido, you’re our hero,” Denki insisted, knowingly preventing him from refusing their thanks. “The world saw what happened that day. Nobody’s saying you did it all alone, but… there’s a reason you were given all this stuff.”
Izuku knew it was pointless to argue. Plus, he’d started to notice just how tired he was. “Thank you for coming. It was nice to see you both.”
Recovery Girl looked a little guilty for making them leave, but she barely showed it as she made him finish his soup and used her quirk. When she left, she demanded that he get some rest. Izuku wasn’t going to fight her. It had been an overwhelming couple of hours, preceded by an extremely emotional night with his mom. As soon as he shut his eyes, the familiar darkness took over.
In his rest, Inko came and went. Mitsuki and Masaru checked on him again. Doctors and nurses seemed to be constantly in and out of his room.
Not one of them was able to tell that Izuku was screaming. Crying. Dying inside as he saw Kacchan’s corpse. Only this time he didn’t get up. He didn’t take his hand. Didn’t save All Might. Izuku could only watch as All For One reached Tenko. A bystander as he destroyed the country, killing the people he loved the most.
It was the first time Izuku had a nightmare of the war. And it was far,
far
from the last.