Chapter 21: Oh, Father Time
To the pedestrians far below, he might've appeared as a comet. Maybe he was a burning meteor rending its way through clouds, a red tear in the blue sky; but he wasn't a meteor, nor a spatial anomaly. He was Endeavor, and there was an emergency. He'd left Endeavor Tower before he'd even received the official announcement from the Hero Network, the explosion already having alerted him. He doubted there was a single person in Tokyo who hadn't heard it.
His sidekicks were racing alongside him, though more lawfully on the whims of the highway. His agency's niche made bombsquad work a priority. The official request for aid was an All-Hands-On-Deck order, so at least fifteen of his subordinates were on their way. The only people not dropping everything to help were his secretaries, who were busying themselves with getting ahold of his part-timers.
As for himself, flying was the fastest, though most draining way to travel. Enji couldn't afford conserving himself, however; in these situations, speed was key. Every second could be a person's life, every minute could be everyone's. He had a job to do; even if he wasn't the most equipped for the job, it was his duty, his expectation to put in more work than anyone else.
That notion fueled him, pushing him to redouble his efforts. His eyes narrowed into slits as the wind pressure increased alongside his speed, blurring his vision. He could only pray he wouldn't hit a bird at this altitude.
The bridge came into his view easier than it should've, given the strain on his eyes. Perhaps on any other day, he might not have even registered it. Today, however, he couldn't even take his eyes off it; the fire that had burned away its infrastructure had stolen its mundanity alongside it. Instead of the beautiful view of the river's archway, towering plumes of smoke and a red, angry glow consuming everything below met his eyes.
It was a mess, to be certain. The explosions had flipped cars, spun them out, and forced drivers to abandon the rest bumper to bumper. Chunks of concrete were falling away from the floor, leaving gaping holes a bus could fit through. Even one the towers, which held the majority of the suspension, had an unnerving tilt. Almost everywhere he could see, fires raged.
Where the flames weren't burning, there were huddles of people. Each group was disproportionate to the last, and while many weren't in danger, the gluttony of the flames meant their safety wasn't long-living. There was no group in more danger than another, nor a solid concentration of people he could give special attention to.
Landing, Endeavor set himself down on top of one of the non-damaged towers. Screams from far below scarcely reached his ears, but what did make it through made his stomach crawl; terrified pleadings for help, agonizing screams, the whole nine yards. What stuck with him, however, wasn't the screams. It was when someone screaming stopped. Endeavor grit his teeth, forcing himself not to move. The situation was too delicate to just go in without care, and he couldn't just play taxi with everyone. Not only would his flames burn them, he'd run out of time and energy long before everyone made it.
His eyes cut a path across the bridge, seeking the best possible pathing. On one side, an eighteen-wheeler lay overturned and blocked the entire road, while on the other side a massive blaze was going strong, trapping the survivors in the center. The gap between the road and the water was too high, lethal for most people.
Endeavor wasn't All Might; he couldn't carry every person on his back, nor could he punch hard enough to extinguish flames. Still, he was the Number One Hero, the best of Japan, and it was up to him to see these people through this nightmare.
He stepped off the tower's peak, allowing himself a brief free fall towards the road before shifting gears. Enji pushed himself towards the nearest group of survivors, making sure his exhaust didn't bother them.
He landed into a kneel, allowing his legs to absorb the weight of his fall. Standing to his full height, he hurried over to this small group.
"Don't worry, the heroes have arrived." He said, trying to offer some sort of comfort. The words felt strangled in his throat, awkward and unusual. Endeavor had never been a rescue hero; how things changed when your number ticked up.
Endeavor stood before two women and a baby. One was unconscious and drenched in blood, but breathing. She was missing a leg, but the wound was clean, like it'd happened a long time ago. What puzzled him was the red slice of flesh clutched in her hands. Clean on one side and bloody on the other, it appeared ground to mush.
The other crouched above her, one hand holding her child and the other gingerly checking the girl's vitals.
"Thank god—I didn't know what to do! She's too heavy to move, and she won't stir!" The first woman said, stepping away from the girl for Endeavor to check her. First thing was her pulse, which was firing regularly, then her breathing, which came out smooth. She didn't seem to be in any danger. He patted her on the cheek, trying to wake her. If she was awake, it would be much easier to move her, even if she couldn't walk.
The girl shifted a little, but didn't regain consciousness. Enji grit his teeth; he couldn't waste his time here much longer. People could be dying by the second, and this girl wasn't in any more danger than anyone else. Standing back up, he looked to the mother.
"Is she yours?" He asked. Protocol, but perhaps a bit awkward, given the mother's apparent age. The injured girl seemed far too old to have come from her. She shook her head.
"No, I was asked to watch over her while he helped the rest." She admitted, rocking her baby as it began to whine. Endeavor wavered, confused.
"He? Who asked you to do this? I'm the first hero to arrive."
"Oh, it was this little green haired kid. He saved me and little Sai from falling off the ledge. Well, in my case, he saved me afterwards." She said, a smile in her voice. Sai whined a little louder, bubbling into a half-cry. Endeavor felt something flicker in his stomach—disbelief, maybe, at his gut reaction. There was only one little green haired boy he knew who would risk vigilantism. Perhaps it was because of Sai's whining or the sudden jolt of fear in his stomach, but a small hand on his ankle caught him off guard.
"Izuku?" The younger girl mumbled, staring at him unseeing. Fuck. He reached down, shaking her shoulder.
"Midoriya!? You know Izuku Midoriya?" He asked, whisper-shouting at her. The fog in her eyes lifted a bit, recognition growing in her eyes.
"You're… Shoto's dad." She said. Not Endeavor, the best of Japan. Not the Number One Hero. Shoto's father. The rock in his stomach was bulging, morphing into a boulder that was beginning to weigh him down.
"Yes," He said, ignoring the way the other woman's eyes widened to the side. "You know my son?"
"Yeah, he… sucks at racing games." She whispered, before her eyes finally cleared. Her gaze flicked around, wild and uncertain. "W-w-w-where is he? Is he okay, is he alive? Where's Izuku? Where—" Her alertness flickered, before deteriorating again. She leaned back against the stone pillar she'd been resting at, falling asleep once more.
"Umm, he went that way." The older woman said, pointing towards the eighteenwheeler's side of the bridge. Endeavor shot to his feet, already turning in her directed path. He didn't want to leave these people high and dry, but he couldn't evacuate them. His only solace was that they were already seemingly in the most secure place on the bridge.
"Stay. Here. I'll go make sure he's okay." He said, before pushing off with a microburst of Hellfire.
[x]
"Pull! Keep pulling!" Izuku screamed, both to the six people behind him, as well as his own quirk. After saving that mother, he'd rushed to those cars on the brink. Along the way, he picked up and helped whoever he could along the way. Now, Blackwhip, wild and unruly as it seemed to be, had wrapped around both the car and his charges. Alone, he didn't have the strength to haul the car back onto the bridge, but with six helpers, they just barely had the manpower to edge it to safety.
"Hurry, brat! The other car could fall at any moment." Five shouted in his ears. Danger Sense flickered to life, showing him that the other car was getting close to the breaking point. Gritting his teeth, he pushed more Blackwhip out of him, the dark energy whips bursting out of his shoulders to wrap around more of the car.
"Heave! One more pull! One, two, GO!" He screamed, throwing all his body weight backwards alongside all six of his helpers. In one fantastic motion, the car's undercarriage screeched against the concrete, sparks flying. All seven gave their everything until the front wheels caught the ground, allowing the rest to roll back onto the bridge. Izuku collapsed, cutting One for All off as his six helpers rushed forward, easing the passengers out of the car.
The driver had a glorious handlebar mustache and a thick stomach that belied what Izuku suspected to be a great strength. Still, as soon as the macho man was over secure ground, he stumbled to his knees, kissing it. Two other passengers, a mother and daughter with darker skin, slipped out arm in arm. He couldn't be sure of their ages, but with the way the mother pulled the daughter into her chest to ease her tears, she wasn't very old.
He couldn't bring himself to stand back up immediately, instead focusing on staying conscious. Blackwhip rippled under his skin like how Danger Sense did within his brain, causing fogginess and jitters when they were loose and uncontrolled. Danger Sense had worse side effects, but was easier to control. Perhaps there was more to the power, but on the most basic level, it was just about regulating its use. Blackwhip, on the other hand, reacted in subtle ways. It was rebellious, and while it didn't quite debilitate him, it exhausted him while using it. It also left his skin bruised and numb where it burst from, which was beginning to wear on him more and more as he called forth the power.
Izuku groaned as he tried to get to his feet, his knees shaking and shoulders pins-and-needled. He pushed Danger Sense up for a moment, trying to find out the state of the other car. A spike of panic hit him when the full limpression of their danger registered.
"Kid!" Five said as Izuku began running.
"Guys, hurry!" Izuku screamed as he jumped over a flipped car. He tripped as he fell, landing in a half-roll that killed his momentum and sent scalding pain over his palms where they scraped against the concrete. His recovery was too slow, his body weakened and exhausted.
He limped around one last car, his mind focused on the last location he'd felt the car was at. Izuku froze. Muffled screams stabbed his ears as all he saw of the car was the brake lights before they disappeared over the edge.
"Guys!" "Kid!" He and Five yelled in unison as Izuku lurched forward, digging deeper into One for All than he'd done all day, more so than he'd ever tried before.
Blackwhip exploded out of his outstretched hand, slipping over the edge and snagging the back bumper. Izuku didn't account for the momentum, though, and was consequently slammed into the concrete road himself. His arm was ripped out of its socket immediately, a handful of ribs cracking right after. His jaw exploded into pain where his head bounced against the ground. He didn't stop—he couldn't. To stop would be sentencing these poor people to death.
He screamed as he let more Blackwhip out of his back, the dark whips sprouting around him like eldritch flowers. They rooted themselves against everything they could find. Supports, upturned cars, even the cracks in the road made for leverage that the whips exploited, holding Izuku's battered form down like a fulcrum. Even with all his effort, the weight still dragged Izuku against the concrete further and further to the edge, the car's fall simply slowed rather than stopped.
Incredible pain wracked Izuku's form as broken bones, quirk exhaustion, and a growing number of scabs worked together against him. Izuku's vision blacked out for a moment, flickering back to life like a battered light bulb. He was slipping closer and closer to the edge, seconds away from falling. Tears welled up in his eyes—at fucking this up, at the pain, at his imminent death.
Then the pressure eased, the strain on Blackwhip relaxing. Something thick and warm filled his ears, muffling all the sounds around him except for the roaring flames.
Izuku's vision flickered between darkness and vivid, burning brightness as the fallen car rocketed up past the edge, carried by the blazing form of Endeavor. The effort had stolen the strength necessary to smile, his soul too tired to celebrate, but deep in his chest, far from the broken ribs, he felt warm.
[x]
When she awoke, she did so in silence. She didn't jerk awake or call out in surprise, though her spirit was a tsunami of fear and anxiety. Though worry and stress filled her up like a water balloon, none of it showed on her face. She was stone as she pressed the call button on the side of her hospital bed. When the nurses arrived, asking a million and more questions, she didn't let their stress get to her. Setsuna simply asked a question.
"Is Izuku alright?"
They hadn't been able to answer her, at first. None of them were familiar with the boy, and this was not the only place ambulances had brought the injurd. She was in a clinic for minor injuries, while the more unstable victims were in more serious wings or other hospitals entirely. It was an honest mistake, she thought. She lost a leg, though her powers left that vague and not obvious at the first or even second glance.
In time, however, the nurses answered her with a hesitant affirmative. He was in the more urgent side of the facility, though he was no longer in critical condition. That had been a hard pill to swallow. How was he injured? What had happened after she'd blacked out? Did she fail him? The nurses were tight-lipped about the nature of his injuries, only spoon-feeding her the bare minimum of what she asked.
Her mom was the first to visit her; dad was too unwell to make the trip, though he video-called soon after her arrival. Alongside her person, she also brought a new set of clothes, given her old ones were either destroyed or covered in blood. She seemed to fret over Setsuna's leg more than she did herself, worried beyond anything at her health. Setsuna, on the other hand, felt a sort of detachment from the missing limb. It didn't feel quite real, nor very consequential.
Already, she could feel her quirk beginning to work on it, a rather itchy process that drained her of energy and was starting to drive her up the wall. She'd lost fingers before, but those took mere days to heal. She could ignore how itchy it got with an ice pack and some lotion. This was on much too large a scale to ignore, too deep in her tissue to fix with any ointments.
Aesthetically, it wasn't very disconcerting either. She'd gone without limbs before; it wasn't like this was very different. Another factor could've been hanging out with Izuku. The boy almost normalized his lopsidedness, making it comfortable. Even if she didn't feel it regrowing every waking moment, she wouldn't feel broken or unwhole. Izuku was certainly whole, in his own way, so why shouldn't she be?
Still, she let her mother fret over her like a damsel. She couldn't bring herself to talk much. With all the thoughts swirling around her noggin, it was surprising how hard coherency was. Her mom fetched her snacks, helped her to the bathroom, and even called the nurses in her stead. Setsuna thought it made her mom feel useful, so she just let it all happen.
A specialist came in to observe her quirk, to make certain she'd recover as well as possible. He was a larger man, with a thick white mustache, but he was cordial and gentle. Though he had to touch her growing leg, he did so in a way that didn't feel invasive or uncomfortable, and for that she was thankful. Her mother, on the other hand, was stiff as steel whenever he got close, like this strange doctor would want to test her regeneration more than was appropriate. She supposed her fear was valid; it wouldn't be the first time a hospital abused a patient for their power.
Two days passed by before the hospital discharged her, though her leg had only regrown to the top of her calf, barely an inch in four days overall. They provided her with a wheelchair and some dietary recommendations in order to speed up her natural regeneration, but otherwise left her untouched bar asking to keep her wounded nub. She, in all honesty, didn't want it and would rather never think of it again, so she consented despite her mother's disapproval.
She spoke little in these times, her thoughts often too loud and emotions she'd rather not grasp too tight around her throat. Still, she was able to whistle a tune as her mother wheeled her out of the hospital room for the last time. The melody followed them across the facility into the recovery rooms from urgent care. It was there that her silent anxieties abated, and the guilt arose.
Izuku was asleep when she found him, Inko hovering above him like a mama bear protecting her cub. Flowers and well wishes filled his bedside table, most coming from people Setsuna'd never met. Her mom and Inko chatted, terse but full of a silent relief that even Setsuna, who endeavored to ignore them, could hear. She spent her time watching over Izuku, raking her eyes over him for injuries she could've saved him from.
Thick white bandages covered his arm, as well as his forehead, jaw, and chest. An IV was drip feeding him, though it was less dramatic than she was expecting. Bar the IV, the only aparatie attached to him was an obsolete oxygen mask that didn't seem turned on. Though none of his injuries appeared to have come from the same slab of concrete that gored her, she couldn't rule it out. He looked like a bus had run him over, or another concrete slab had come hurdling his way.
She couldn't wrap her brain around it; any of it. What had he done after she saved him, why'd she vaguely remember Endeavor, and how did he hurt himself? A thousand similar questions slipped on and off her tongue, her mouth never quite able to form the perfect words. Then, her mother excused herself for the bathroom, leaving her alone with his mother. It was like some mental barrier had broken, the dam released. Perhaps her mom's intensity had embarrassed her, or her vigilance had been too invasive, but for the brief window she left, her throat loosened.
"What… what happened? I just… I feel so lost." She said, talking more to the sleeping Izuku than anyone else, but only Inko replied.
"He went overboard, sweety. You know our boy. He'd take the stairs in a burning building if it meant everyone else got to ride the elevator." Inko murmured, placing a soft hand on her shoulder. Setsuna smiled, but it wasn't with teeth.
"I like to think he'd be more liable to just jump out the window." She said, making Inko giggle.
"He woke up for a little bit, y'know. Yesterday. Almost everything he said was thank you, over and over. I haven't a clue who he was talking to. Do you?" She asked, turning to her. Setsuna didn't return the gaze, instead choosing to keep vigilance over her friend.
She thought about him for a while, counting how much he'd done for her. Saving her and her mom, for one. Spending so much time helping her with her stupid training, for another. Confronting her on the bridge, breaking his silence. The conversation still weighed heavily on her mind, even now. Setsuna fiddled with her blonde hair as it hung over her downturned face, watching how it reflected artificially in the sterile light.
Seeing it, not for the first time, made her want to throw up a little bit. Much of the early confidence from the new look had waned over time, but she'd never been brave enough to switch back. It felt like abandoning something halfway through, like she'd failed to complete something. She looked over to Izuku's head, her eyes tracing out how his hair framed his face.
He looked cute with the dark green hair, and tried to imagine him as blonde. It just… didn't work. His freckles clashed with the bright curls, his eyes the wrong shade. It didn't feel right for him to be anything other than himself. Izuku was very clear, on that bridge. Green was good. Her stomach felt like a melting pot of nostalgia and affection, with rock-hard anxieties and fears floating along with the motion of the spoon that stirred it.
"I couldn't be sure." She replied, after a time. It didn't feel right to claim his thanks as her own, like she hadn't earned it. "It feels more like he should've said "you're welcome," don't you think?"
Inko didn't reply immediately, though her hand shifted from rubbing her shoulder to playing with the tips of her hair. She hummed a small tune, something that she couldn't recognize but still had a knee-jerk reaction to, like Deja Vu. She wordlessly took a hairband from Setsuna's wrist and began tying up her hair, Setsuna doing nothing to stop her. The normal disgust that came with other people touching her hair never rose when Inko touched her, never bared its teeth. Even her own mother was liable to feel her wrath when she played with it, but not Inko. She couldn't find it within herself to snap at the woman, not when her son was comatose below them.
"It wasn't the only thing he said, young lady. He may have been delirious under all those pain meds, but after all the "thank yous" came and went, he told me about what you did. "Momma, she saved me, oh, but she got hurt, oh, oh, oh. Setsuna pushed me. Thank you." Inko finished, both with her retelling and with Setsuna's hair. It was up in a high bun, pulling her bangs out of her face but leaving curtains along with a little length in the back. It was like a replica of the woman's own favored style, just blonde.
Setsuna's cheeks burned like a thousand suns, and with her hair out of her face, she couldn't hide it. Inko giggled again, before pressing her lips against her temple.
"You saved my son. Maybe it doesn't mean much to you, with your ability, but to us it means the world." She said, gesturing down to her malformed calf. "There are no more words I can say to that. You're welcome in my home whenever you want, and anything we have is yours."
[x]
The first thing she did upon arriving home after the whole ordeal was trip. In her haste to hug her father, she lunged forward, only to end up forgetting about her missing appendage. She toppled to the floor before him, squeezing her eyes shut while bracing for an impact that never came. Opening them revealed a soft green glow, holding her aloft. The action alone almost made her cry; he shouldn't have been using his quirk at all, let alone carrying her with it.
Helped up by her mother, she gripped him by the waist and held him close for a long, long time. A lot went unsaid between them, though in some ways, her father had a more telepathic quirk than telekinetic.
"It's alright, sweetpea, I'm here…" He whispered, clutching her as close as she did him. They'd almost lost each other, and their last interaction had barely been one at all. Despite his obvious weariness, he helped her over to the living room couch, where they sat together and watched TV. Her mom made them a quick dinner, but she filled it with love and left them all feeling sleepy.
Setsuna sat between the two, snuggled up to her father like her mother did her. A long time passed in silence, only broken by an occasional laugh or sigh in reaction to whatever movie coasted along their channel surfing. Only when her mother's soft snores reached her ears did she speak up to her father.
""M sorry." She whispered. Her father hadn't been sleeping quite yet, but he'd been close. He startled, before pulling her deeper into his flank with his warm, thin arm.
"For what, baby?" He asked. Setsuna wasn't sure.
"For being evasive, I guess. Blowing you guys off when you were worried."
"Well, you're alright, so that's all that matters."
"I guess." She replied, before wavering, uncertain. She couldn't promise anything, but she felt different. Like things could change. "I'm still gonna be a hero, dad. I just… maybe I'll slow down a bit, take things easier."
Her father hummed, lowering the volume of the TV with his free hand.
"That's good. You're a good person as is, and working yourself to the bone wouldn't have proven anything, in the end. That leg is all the evidence you need that you're a hero, after all."
She tucked her face into his side, enjoying his warmth. His sharp ribs may have made for a poor pillow, but his scent calmed her, his heat relaxed her. It felt like, within no time at all, she was on the sandman's doorstep.
Her last thought was on a pair of scissors, and what Izuku's reaction might be to their consequences.
Chapter 22: Orchard of Alleviation
Izuku recovered long before he woke up. With the power of healing quirks and exceptional doctors, he was as good as new within a handful of days. The trade-off for such efficient healing was a lengthy sleep, however, causing him to lose ten days of his life to the dream world.
Had someone asked, he wouldn't have been able to explain his dreams. Not because he couldn't remember them, no, but because they were simply indescribable. His existence had been a kaleidoscope of fire and nightmares, yet between the cracks had been a comfort he hadn't felt in ages. It was easy, to bathe in the flames of his mind, to soak in the heat of his soul. They were intimate, yet public. One for All had held his hand all the way, keeping him grounded.
No vestiges or embers came to him, yet he could feel them watching, waiting. Never once did he step foot within the castle, yet it was a backdrop in every scene, every moment. Wading through the oceans of his quirk had been simple, like he was a prophet blessed to walk on water. He'd never felt closer to the quirk, despite the distance between himself and the thrones.
When he finally did wake, he was thirsty. It was ironic, really. After swimming within One for All, he still woke up dehydrated. When his eyes cracked open, he was alone but for the steady drip of an IV and a muted television playing a children's cartoon.
There was no headache. That was the first thing he appreciated, coming back to the realm of the living. The second was the extensive pile of vases with flowers, cards, and little gifts piled up at his bedside desk. Bandages held him steady, denying his desire to reach over and explore them, though no pain seeped through when he struggled against them.
The Call Button was on the left side of his bed, to his annoyance. He struggled against his confines, wriggling and inching his way onto his side so that he could press the button. Eventually, he sagged back into the cushions of the bed, unsuccessful. Izuku was stuck.
Or was he? A devious part of his brain whispered, One for All coiling in his gut. A small warmth sneaked its way up from his core and into his shoulders, making the skin underneath girate between itchiness and pins and needles. The sensations migrated left, pooling into the stump of his left arm.
Izuku glanced around, making sure no one was watching him. Deciding it was clear, he let the tiniest bit of One for All loose, a little black strand slinking out of his arm like a garden snake. Blackwhip was weird, he'd decided.
He could both feel through it and not. While the temporary limb didn't have sensation like his flesh, it did transmit those feelings to the place it grew from, like teeth or finger nails. Yet the places it sprouted from grew numb with long exposure, obscuring such feelings. Regardless, the quirk was amazing.
It was easy work summoning the limbs, but it was difficult beyond comparison to tame them. Five, when he'd still been whispering to him, had been clear about that. Asserting dominance was key, but even after throwing all his willpower at the limbs, they only half-listened to him. He wondered where Five went, now that he thought of him.
After spending so much intimate time within One for All, however, Izuku was confident they'd bend the knee to him. It was only one little strand, after all.
That was not the case. As soon as he pushed the quirk out, it slipped right past the Call Button, curled around the biggest vase, and swiped it onto the floor.
The shattering glass surprised him enough that One for All cut off on its own. It was just in the nick of time, too, as a pair of nurses burst into the room, just to see Izuku staring at the destroyed bouquet in shock.
No one said anything for a moment, the nurses stunned into silence and Izuku too busy cringing from embarrassment.
"Uhm—" Izuku began, interrupted by a dry cough. "G-good morning."
The nurses looked at eachother, then at the vase, then to Izuku, before bursting into action. One nurse ran out the room, calling for a custodian and a physician, while the other rushed to give him a checkup.
Within minutes, adults swarmed him. Soon, his surgeon, doctor, and the pair of nurses were checking him over, looking for irregularities. His burst into the room, shoving past the nurse checking his blood pressure to wrap him into the tightest hug she could manage. He let her warmth sink into him for a moment before pushing her away, afraid the nurse would escort her out if she held up the procedure any longer.
It wasn't long before someone came in with scissors, cutting him free from his bandages. They started with his arms, freeing his shoulder first, telling him to roll it around. No pain. Then his torso, telling him to breathe deep. Still nothing. Finally, they unwrapped his forehead and chin, telling him to roll his neck and work his jaw.
His neck was fine, but his jaw stung. The corner of his right face, where his mandible met his neck, had a small square patch of rough, pink skin. His mind reeled, trying to remember what happened to it as a nurse passed him a hand-held mirror. Izuku hesitated to look at it, transfixed by the small sadness in his mother's eyes.
His stomach boiled as a nurse placed a hand on his shoulder, as if that would calm him.
"I'd be thankful the damage was this small, if I was you. The damage could've been much worse; everywhere else, the concrete only scraped away skin. By the time we got to you, most of the flesh right here," She pointed at his jaw, her fingers ghosting over the rough flesh, "was gone. The first responders could see the bone after wiping away the blood."
The tiny mirror shook in his hands as he raised it, trying to find a flattering angle. The task proved hard.
It was pink and awkward, following the curve of his jaw but not limited to it. Like a toddler unable to color within the lines, there was a good centimeter spread to his neck, still following the overall square shape. It was no more than four square inches, but it was eye-catching.
For a moment, he was at a loss. Despite his arm, disfigurement was… it wasn't any easier to accept. It was ugly and felt gross under his shaking fingers. After a few more tests, doctors started to file out, but his mother stayed, holding his hand. When they were alone, he leaned into her shoulder.
"It's good to see you up, baby." She whispered into his ear, placing a kiss on the top of his head.
"Is it that bad?" He asked, turning to look up at her. From the short distance, his mother's eyes seemed huge, bigger than the moon. Unlike the moon, however, they radiated warmth.
"Not at all. You're gonna attract some stares, sure, but that's nothing new, is it?" She asked, her voice confident. Her conviction eased his nerves, even as he felt her shoulders twinge with the shiver that raced down her spine. She was as scared as he was; in a way, that made him feel better.
"You know," she continued, trailing her knuckles against his shoulder. "Your arm was tragic. It was a total loss, with no brightside other than introducing us to Sasaki and Sorahiko. This time though, you traded a little bit of skin for a lot of lives."
Her knuckles followed the path of his shoulder down to his hand, where she intertwined their fingers once more. Under her guidance, they lifted their hands, and she pointed them toward the pile of well-wishing gifts. The vase may be in pieces in the trash, but that did little to diminish its meaning.
They were from the people he helped, he realized. It was the only possibility. He spied a little baggie from his friends and a card from Nighteye, but everything else? Izuku reached over, grabbing a random card out of the pile. Inside was a polaroid of the woman and her baby he'd saved next to a heartfelt note and a small handprint. Tossing the card to the side, he grabbed another one, finding it to be from the man with the handlebar mustache.
His mother was careful to pick them up where he left them, replacing them amongst the other gifts.
"It hurts me to see you in pain, baby. It really, really does. I can't stand it; it drives me up the wall just thinking about what kind of life you'll be leading. But for all the stress you put me through, for all the anxiety and panic and fear, I'm very proud. You helped… so many people. I just—it's hard to wrap my brain around, what kind of person you're becoming. So, you might've gotten hurt, and I might hate that, but I love you for who you are, and the hero you've become. It might make me a bad mother for saying this, but even if you had to do it all again, I hope you wouldn't change a thing."
Mother and son stayed quiet for a while after that. The silence wasn't awkward, or somber, however. Izuku was a raging mixture of emotions, but the energy had dwindled alongside his mother's speech. He was thoughtful, getting out of bed and hobbling around the room, checking himself out in every mirror available. The nurses left with the IV, sending an order for a delicate lunch his way.
It was the first meal in a long time his head wasn't screaming at him, his pain receptors overloaded. He ate in quiet peace, something that he could appreciate more than ever. Just for a test, he used Danger Sense a smidge, feeling out the room next to him. The familiar ache returned, alongside the knowledge of a woman's first degree burns. He dialed it back down, flexing his fist in accordance with the effort.
It was euphoric, to be able to control it. Like a dream come true. Blackwhip, on the other hand, was a growing headache, but thankfully not in the literal sense. Still, now that he knew of it, he could train it, practice it.
He was growing.
"Hey, mom, get over here!" He said, scooting over to her. Whipping out his phone in a flash, he snapped a picture of them, his right profile showing. His finger hesitated for a moment, a million and one pounds of baggage holding him back from pressing the "send" button, before hormonal willpower saved the day.
Izuku Midoriya: *You sent an image*
Izuku Midoriya: I lived, bitch.
Izuku Midoriya: I'm so sorry I thought it would be funny. Are you okay?
[x]
It took a few days of convincing for his mom to let him free. After getting him back home, she babied him for as long as she could manage. He thought he'd be free when work forced her back in the office, but even afterward she was still reluctant to let him out of the house. He received a summons from Nighteye, Gran Torino, and even Endeavor, but his mother nipped those in the bud. He needed his rest, she'd said. He could talk to them later, she continued.
Izuku didn't blame her—he couldn't, with what happened, but it still got on his nerves. His energy was penting up faster the longer he stayed cooped up. He'd spent the last few days regaining his strength after his coma, but static exercises just weren't enough. On the fourth day home from the hospital, he finally found his excuse.
"Hey, mom, look at this!" He called across the apartment, holding open the fridge door. They were low on most things, but most importantly, they'd run out of all their juice. His mom walked up, closing in on the fridge as if she could find a drink that he could not. About ten seconds of tense scanning later, she sighed.
"Alright, fine. You can go get us groceries, if you turn your location on." She said, caving to his transparent ploy. Izuku fist pumped, before rushing her down with a hug around her midriff. She gave him a few pats on the shoulder before pulling away, grabbing her work shoes.
Izuku matched her, cobbling together an appropriate outfit at the speed of light. He moved so fast that he didn't even register how his socks didn't match, or how pink his tank top was. They left together, her towards work, and him towards freedom. Despite his haste, he still made sure to honor her condition, turning on his phone's location on their family tracking app.
He bounced down the road, light on his heels with excitement. The fresh air felt great on his tongue, the sunlight great on his skin. Autumn was around the corner, but the weather was still in the warm and glorious era of summer.
With time, however, he slowed. His bouncing turned to speed-walking, his speed walking into a stroll. His energy, despite how pent up he'd been, was still low after the hospital. It'd take a bit longer to retrieve his stamina, but that wasn't his only reason. As his physical energy depleted, so too did his emotional energy. It was like a fog was settling over his eyes, or coming out of an adrenaline high. About halfway to Tokage's Groceries, it clicked where he was going. Who he was going for.
Blood was his first thought. Setsuna's crushed leg, lost to the bottom of the sea. The way the slab mutilated her calf, and how he'd begged her to save herself, even after spending everything to save him. He thought of how he'd left her alone for others, risking her safety on the low chance of helping anyone else.
A little niggle of embarrassment also crept up his spine, remembering his lips on her forehead. Had the moment not been so drastic, such an action would've killed him from sheer shame.
Could he really face her, not even considering the conversation they'd had not moments before the catastrophe even began? He wasn't sure. Would she want to? The Tokages had sent a card as a unit, so it could've just been her family. He wasn't sure who visited him while he slept, but with her injuries, he couldn't exactly blame her if she couldn't make it.
When he texted her a few days ago, all he'd gotten in response was like on the picture he sent. Not a verbal reply, not even an emoji. Radio silence had followed, leaving their chat feeling almost dead in a way.
Apprehension filled his bones as he got closer to the grocery, and for a brief, infantesimal moment, he considered just going to a different food market. It might be easier, he thought, than seeing her. Really, she'd lost a leg because of him. Her family could've just sent that card as courtesy, and might secretly hate him.
Izuku was still wrestling with these thoughts as a faint bell tinkled over him. He startled from his introspection, realizing he'd just waltzed in like normal. Cursing the muscle memory in his legs, he forced a smile onto his lips as Mr. Tokage turned to him, thin eyes cracking open wider than normal.
The frail man lurched to his feet, stumbling from around the counter. Izuku staggered, unsure whether to spontaneously combust or meet the man in the middle. His heart was in his throat as he took a step toward the man, praying the man wasn't trying to kick him out. Mr. Tokage looked strangled, like he had a million words to say, but couldn't quite get any out.
Another step toward the man put him within the shopkeeper's range, which only deepened his sudden anxiety. Neither said anything for a moment as the gentle man's eyes raced across Izuku's face, narrowing in on the fresh scar. Izuku shifted, subconscious of his scrutiny, but didn't step away as the man's hand reached out for a hesitant shake.
Izuku stared at it, perplexed, but with some hesitance, he took it in his own. A firm shake, however, was not what the man had in mind. As soon as Izuku's hands touched his, Mr. Tokage pulled him into a deep embrace, held by the man's thin arms. He froze, unsure what to do for a moment, before relaxing. Perhaps the Tokages didn't hate him quite yet. The moment ended after a few seconds, but the warmth of the man stayed with Izuku. They walked over to the counter, where the man slid into his seat with a thankful sigh.
"So, my boy, what ah… what caused the blemish? Set couldn't save all of ya, could she?" He asked as Izuku leaned onto the counter.
"No, no! She did more than enough. I got this," Izuku said, pointing at the scar, "after."
"Ah, that makes a bit more sense. Wreckless heroism, aye? Be more careful next time, kid. You don't wanna wear your body out before you retire." He replied, pointing out his gray hairs and wrinkles. Izuku couldn't help the small wince that he let out. To his eyes, Mr. Tokage looked ancient, despite the fact that his mind knew that he'd yet to crack fifty.
"Y-yeah, I guess. It was kind've pointless, though. I stopped a car from falling off a bridge, but couldn't pull it back up. Its weight turned the bridge into a cheese grater on my face."
"Oh, yeah, I remember that. The news was going ballistic over that before Endeavor came in and lifted them. Seemed confused about whether to congratulate you or prosecute you at the time." Mr. Tokage said. Izuku's jaw dropped, unaware of this tidbit.
"Wait, that was broadcast on the news?" He asked, his mind racing back to when he'd kissed Setsuna's forehead in the spur of the moment. That was on national television? Only for a brief moment did he consider the legal implications. No police had showed up at his door, so he imagined he might be in the clear. He'd have to ask Nighteye about that later.
"Oh, you didn't know? Just the bit of you rescuing those cars made it. Man, it's wild to think that was you. Setsuna's mother and I were freaking out when it happened, and that was before we knew you guys were there, fighting for your lives."
"No, no," Izuku said, raising his hands, "you're giving me too much credit. I wouldn't have been able to do any of that at all without Setsuna saving me first. Really, she saved my life. Hard. I'll never be able to repay her."
"You make it sound like I wasn't just evening the score." A familiar voice said, echoing across the store. Izuku's eyes flicked to the hatch, where Setsuna was sitting. He couldn't see her head from this angle, but he could make out everything below the waist. His eyes drew themselves to the lazy swinging of her knees, his pupils especially drawn to her bare ankle
Seeing her made his heart seize for a moment, both in fear and joy. Her leg, despite its previous mutilation, was regrowing. It wasn't healed yet, if her lack of a foot told anything, but it was on its way. It relaxed a part of him he didn't know was tense. The last thing he wanted was for her to be like him, especially in this regard.
Izuku looked to Mr. Tokage, who tilted his head toward Setsuna and gave him a wink. He swallowed, nerves building, before fishing his list out of his pocket and sliding it over the counter. Mr. Tokage took it with special gentleness; a glint in his eye promised a slow enough service to make Izuku's visit last. He gave the kind man one more glance before making his way over to the hatch, where Setsuna still sat.
Upon arriving below her, however, his mind stopped working. All his thoughts, his worries, and his fears grew silent at the sight above him.
The glow of her living room light overhead haloed her silhouette, giving her a golden aura that made his heart stutter. That, in itself, was enough to give him pause. What made him freeze in his tracks, however, was the silhouette of her head itself.
Her long golden locks were gone; they were still a strawberry blonde, but their length was a fraction of what it'd been before. The sides were shaved, with just a single fluff on top, resting off to the side of her head. Although it was shorter now than even Izuku's, it wasn't boyish. No, it was still feminine, and did nothing to detract from her appearance.
He worked his jaw, trying to come up with some coherent reply, but only managed to agitate his scar. Setsuna gave a small giggling noise, before hoisting her legs out of the hatch, waving him up.
"Hurry up, man. We don't have all day for you to look up my skirt."
Izuku cringed, indignant, but her father laughed behind him, cuing him in on her joke. Setsuna's giggle expanded into a full blown laugh as Izuku ascended the ladder, muttering to himself.
At the top, he found himself standing over the sitting Setsuna, confused as to why she'd yet to move. He blinked. Ah.
"Uppies!" She said, still laughing as she held her hands out for him to hoist her up. Even Izuku, despite his anxiety, cracked a smile. Pulling her to her feet, she leaned into his armless flank.
"Uppies? You're not a baby, you know?" He said, helping her over to her room. She huffed, rolling her eyes.
"Ugh, it feels like it. Walking is a pain, so I've resorted to crawling around. Leaving the house is a no-no, too, given I can't really use the ladder." She grumbled. Izuku raised an eyebrow.
"If you can crawl, why're you using me as a walking stick?" He asked, easing her onto her bed. Izuku hesitated, unsure whether to join her or sit at her desk. She gave him a flat look.
"Mr. Midoriya. Are you asking a girl to crawl on all fours for you?" Setsuna asked. Izuku's face was like a blazing furnace. He decided to sit at the desk.
The silence they eased into was a hybrid of awkward and comfortable. It made him feel warm inside that she was treating him like normal, like how she used to. Still, the uneasiness that'd haunted him since his arrival still lingered.
He tried to think of something to say. Something profound, or heartfelt, but nothing came to mind. The silence grew louder as neither said anything, each studying the walls or floors or looking out the window instead. Finally, Izuku caved.
"So, uhm… your hair?"
"I cut it."
"Sorry."
"Huh?"
"What? I mean sorry for throwing up in it. That's why you cut it, right?"
"You did what!?"
"Kid, that was about the worst thing you could've said." A masculine voice appeared, causing Izuku to whip his head around. Setsuna flinched, eyes widening at his sudden motion. Five sighed, the man's face appearing in the corner of his visions. Turning his head, however, didn't give him a better view. It was like the man's face was locked into the side of his eye socket. "Why on earth would she cut it because something threw up in it? She could just, I don't know, wash it? The cut's probably for a different reason."
"Excuse me," Izuku said, before rushing off to her bathroom. Setsuna reached out to stop him, but he'd already left.
Slipping into the bathroom, he closed the door with as much force as he dared. Looking into the mirror, he gasped.
Five was hovering right behind him, his form hazy below the belly button. It was like a badass genie was shadowing him.
"What the hell?" Izuku whispered, hoping none of the Tokages could hear him. Five shrugged, pulling a cigar out of the ether.
"Got a light?" He asked, holding out the ghostly cigar in front of Izuku before yanking it back, laughing. The cigar lit by itself.
"Five, what are you doing here? I thought—I thought that was a one-time thing." He continued, even as Five ignored him for the smoke. "Five!" He whisper-shouted.
"Huh? Didn't I explain this?" He said, looking around confused. Izuku shook his head, brows furrowed.
"Oh. Me and Four slipped through right before Nana helped you out on the train. She messed up our whole order, so this was our way of salvaging this whole thing. Four got stuck half-way, though. You got his quirk, but his spirit is stuck between your dreams and your consciousness. I, on the other hand, am just chillaxing. Say, you ever heard of Carl Jung?"
This was way too much to drop on him at once, Izuku thought. He bit his lip, nodding at the question.
"Well, I didn't in life. One, Four, and Six, on the other hand, are big psychology nerds. Neither are blabbermouths much, but even they couldn't help but sing the man's graces. Bored me to death with it, to be honest. Anyways, his concept of the unconscious is kinda congruent with One for All. You may not be actively aware of us, but subconsciously, you are 100% aware of us. Unlocking our quirks is like… like pulling our knowledge out of the deep recesses of your mind. On top of that, the more you learn, the more you can communicate with us directly."
"So… why aren't you guys… why can't I talk to you anymore? And why are you here, when I can barely even activate Blackwhip?" He asked, confused. This all made his head hurt—he wished, at the very least, Five could've told him earlier.
"Beats me. Seems like something happened in the big transfer that set us into Emergency Mode. As for myself, me and Four realized that Blackwhip would've been harder to control, so I was the priority to escape before the gates locked. If we knew his quirk would've done that much damage, though, I definitely would've pushed him through that last closing gate instead. It was cool, like a metaphysical version of those dudes in action movies slipping under vertically closing doors."
Izuku stayed quiet, absorbing the explanation for a while. He washed his hands in the meantime, alongside his face. Scrubbing the cold water into the bags under his eyes, he glanced behind him again. Perhaps Five would disappear. He didn't.
"Danger Sense… It ruined the whole of last year for me. That's a year I'll never get back." He whispered. Five frowned, dispersing his cigar and placing his meaty hand on his shoulder.
"Really, kid, I'm sorry. I'd like to pin it all on Seven, given how rash she was, but really, we can only blame All for One. He's the one that made you this way, Seven was only doing what she thought was right."
"You keep saying that," Izuku said, shifting the hand off his shoulder. He couldn't look the man in the eyes normally, but he stared daggers into the mirror where the man's eyes were. "You keep complaining about her like she did something terrible, but you haven't even explained the bare minimum of what she did wrong!"
Five looked at him, confused, before a light seemed to go off behind his eyes.
"Oh, didn't you know? When she touched you on that train, she thought the best way to comfort you was to give you Float."
[x]
When Izuku came back into her room, he looked odd. It was hard to describe his expression; pale, far away, but full of an emotion she wasn't familiar with. His shoulders looked relaxed but hung low, like between his abrupt escape and return, someone dropped another weight onto them.
She didn't know what to say; he was acting weird, but she couldn't blame them. Their lives felt… different than before. The bridge was still hazy in her mind, but everything around it felt weighty and important. Setsuna couldn't blame him for an odd tick or two; she knew she'd been out of sorts as well. She hadn't touched her phone since Izuku woke up, nor had she left the bed, or even turned on the TV. She'd spent her time cocooning since visiting Izuku, dull but purposeful, like her room was a chrysalis and she a butterfly.
So, when he returned, she didn't give it more than a second thought. Izuku was weird, she was weird, and they lived a weird life.
"Uhm… sorry. Had to go to the bathroom." He said. He did not flush; so he was either nasty or lying, and Setsuna preferred the latter theory. It didn't matter to her, either way.
"Ok dude. What was that about throwing up in my hair, though?" She asked, a little disgusted. His faraway look faded away as he blushed, unable to look her in the eyes.
"O-oh, well, after you saved me, I was in my own head for a bit. Blood in, uhm, that quantity makes me… feel difficult. My stomach just… y'know."
"Oh." She replied, her distaste fading a bit. She could hardly blame him for that. In any case, the hair was gone, anyway. As if trying to prove that to him, she ran a dramatic hand through her scalp, showing off the new cut. She got her mom to do it, and for once, it didn't feel invasive. She'd done a good job, though if Setsuna was honest, she might've preferred a buzzcut to a pixie. Her mom didn't agree however, so here she was.
"So…" She said, dragging it out as she tilted her head towards the boy. "Wanna touch it?"
Izuku's blush doubled down, but he nodded, sitting beside her as he raked his fingernails through the buzzed parts. He leaned in close to inspect it.
"It's nice." He said. She smiled, before whipping her head around to face him before he could pull away. Their noses brushed. The boy's eyes almost rolled into the back of his head as he scrambled away. "S-s-sorry!"
She laughed. It was something she'd been doing more and more since he'd showed up today. It felt like she hadn't done this for a while—laughing with him. Their last conversation was so… heavy, and before that, her single-mindedness had stopped her from truly enjoying his presence.
Setsuna caught him before he scrambled too far, choosing to lean her head on his shoulder. It was a little awkward, given she still had an inch or so on him, but she made it work. Izuku seemed to short circuit, which was nice.
"Thanks." She whispered.
"For what?" He replied, his eyes staring mean holes into the wall. It was cute, how nervous he was.
"Just… pulling me out of that… headspace. In all honesty, I was kinda jealous. You're so… heroic, y'know. You inspired me. But then I got bitter because I just didn't measure up."
He shifted, but didn't break contact.
"You shouldn't talk about yourself like that." He whispered. She snorted.
"It's not self-deprecation. I wanted to be an equal, like Shoto is. I went so far as to—to dye my hair to hype myself up. I just… I thought working hard would make up for not having a mentor. Like, you've got three pro heroes training you."
Really, thinking she could compete was delusional. The boy had more drive than her, more talent than her, and more resources. The only thing she had on him was limbs; and even then, she'd almost lost one.
Her gaze fell, landing on her nub. It still itched deep in the tissue, but it'd grown enough that it felt like a leg again, rather than just a thigh. She wondered how she'd feel if she couldn't regenerate. Thoughts of grief came to mind, of bitterness and fear. Perhaps she would be brave, like Izuku. The boy had lost his in a total freak accident with his quirk, and wasn't that just the most ironic thing? That his quirk did that to him, while hers did the opposite.
Izuku seemed to struggle with himself, like he wasn't sure what to reply with at first. After a few moments, however, he seemed to find the words.
"Even if…" He began, clutching his chest like the next words physically hurt him, "you aren't as polished as I am, you're just as much a hero. You… you didn't know your leg would grow back, did you? And you still pushed me out of the way. That… that's amazing. You're amazing. I don't know if I could do that."
Something warm squirmed in her gut. Pulling her head away from his shoulder, she reached around a cupped his right cheek, pulling him towards her. Her fingers brushed over his new scar, pink in its freshness.
Izuku would never get his arm back. There were no do-overs. No second chances. For him, what was gone was gone; and he had to approach life differently than her. That difference, she realized, was foolish. They were kids, but he acted like an adult, throwing caution to the wind and his childhood to the side. The remaining shards of his carelessness rested in the hands of his family, his friends. In hers. He gave himself to them in exchange for the ability to dedicate himself to something.
It wasn't fair. That much was clear. But to whom? Hard to say. How could he just join her life, change her, inspire her, only to turn around and tell her to not be like him? Yet was it fair to him, to break his trust, to break herself to be like him? It wasn't fair to either of them, she decided.
She couldn't say she knew what he went through. Despite how deep their ties went at this point, she couldn't say she knew him like the back of her hand. She couldn't say she knew what it was like to lose a limb forever, she couldn't say she knew what it was like to deal with those consequences.
She learned, however, a fraction. A piece. Of what it was like to lose a limb, to wake up in a cold sweat, her mind filled with gore. It was like learning about Izuku himself, why he was so odd at times, so dysfunctional. It was eye-opening.
Izuku would never get his limb back, but she would. He would continue to make errors, fail himself, and overextend at every opportunity. He will do all of it with a smile on his face, because it is his only option and he is beautiful. He'll continue to push himself like a madman, he will hurt, bruise, and bend, but he will not break, because he does not have the chance.
She will get her limb back. One day soon, she'll be whole once more. She has shattered, collapsed, and broken again and again, because she has the chance. The privilege.
Izuku had told her that she was a good person. That she didn't need to be a hero to prove it, unlike him. Setsuna wasn't sure if he understood the irony in that. Just by being himself, being honest, he'd shown her a glimpse of bending, instead of breaking. It was in his nature; he did not have the chance to break. Yet he risked everything every time he helped someone, every time he put himself on the line. It was foolish, that inadequate feeling of never putting everything on the line for others, that difference between them. It'd drowned her, convinced her to change. Yet still he pulled her out of it, showing her how to bend.
Setsuna believed he'd keep doing that. Izuku took punishment like a champion, but he wasn't invincible. A nagging fear in the back of her mind surfaced, reminding her that he wasn't infallible. A missing appendage proved that. One day he might break, instead of bend. It scared her. But in this silent moment, this lull in the conversation while she caressed the symbol of his efforts, she made a vow. A promise to lend him aid, to help him heal if he ever broke. Because she knew that he would, one day, if he continued to be such a damn ray of sunshine.
"I do. I know you would."
A sudden urge to kiss him pulled her thoughts away from his character to the soft flesh of his lips. She leaned forward, lips parting. For a split second, she almost did it. The warmth in her gut pushed and shoved all doubts away like a bully, overtaking her base senses.
Then she came back to herself, and a smooth recovery, slipped her cheek past his and wrapped him in a surprise hug. He was ice in her arms, but within moments he melted against her and returned the hug.
"I'm glad you're ok, man." She whispered. He nodded into her shoulder. They stayed like this for a while, basking in eachother's warmth. Too short a time later, in Setsuna's opinion, Izuku pulled away, his eyes flickering between her own and to the far side of the wall. He gulped, his spit audible as he sucked it down his throat.
"I-I… I made you a promise on the bridge; do you remember?" He murmured. Her eyes widened, a little confused. She didn't remember any kind of promise from their conversation.
"N-no?"
"W-well, it happened after you… lost your leg. I s-s-said—I was begging you to pop your leg off your knee. So you wouldn't bleed to death, yeah? Ring any bells?"
"Not really... kinda? It's all so hazy." She replied. He nodded, closing his eyes and hanging his head for a moment as if to gather the strength to finish his thought.
"Well—you w-weren't waking up, and I was crying, and you were sleeping and you know… I started throwing things at the wall. Just things to try and wake you up. But the thing that worked, in the end, was me promising "anything." He finished.
She blinked, sort of recalling it. At the time, it felt like her brain was mud, her ears filled with silt. The only constant had been the dull pain where her leg should've been. The thing that had made her stir, however, was the faint, dull voice of Izuku.
Her mind tingled as the thought overtook her, reminding her of the moment with a clarity she'd thought she'd never get. Izuku was blurry, on account of her half-closed eyes, but he was over her, covered in her blood, crying his eyes out.
"O-oh, yeah. I think I remember. What about it?" She asked, confused. Izuku blushed, looking away.
"W-well, ever since I woke up, I've been giving it some thought. Just a little—it's not like I've been thinking too hard about it, but I had an idea. Maybe that's too strong a concept; I had a niggling of what you might want." He said, still not looking at her. The warmth in her gut squirmed again.
"And what would that be?"
"W-well, I've got a couple of mentors, yknow, but nowadays Nighteye does most of my instruction while Gran Torino is just kinda his second fiddle. I was thinking, since you wanted to improve so much… why don't I—and I don't know if he'd agree—but what if I asked him to give you some pointers when your school is on break? Like during the summer or on weekends?"
She stared at him, flabbergasted. Here he was, trying to get her to relax a little, but then he turned around and tried to help her with it. For a brief moment, it seemed backwards, but after a moment of thought it seemed… good. Really good.
What she needed wasn't to quit. She needed to dial it back, of course, but that wasn't the real problem. Setsuna was directionless, with no real sense of where to stop or begin. In the past, she'd basically been googling hero exercises and trying her best. It ended with her stressed out of her mind, depressed, and didn't leave her particularly more skilled than when she'd begun. A mentor, even on the most basic level, would be a huge step forward. On top of that, with Izuku using those green puppy dog eyes, how could she refuse?
"Dude, that sounds fucking cool as hell."
[x]
A knock on Izuku's front door brought him out of his school work. He frowned; he needed to get back to the grind soon; he was two weeks behind, and even though he was further ahead than his age demanded, how would he help Shoto with his own advanced math if he himself fell behind? Still, he kept his face polite as he swung open the door to his apartment, expecting a neighbor or perhaps the landlord to swing by for an inspection.
He did not expect the hulking mass of muscle standing before him, civilian clothes barely covering his thick arms.
"Alright, boy. I've given you your due break. Now, it's time for answers." Endeavor said.