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Well, he was screwed.
Or, more like, mildly inconvenienced.
Regardless, he wasn’t in an ideal situation… Actually, nothing about this situation was normal—or right. All around him were trees—a forest?—and the sky taunted him with its bright blue expanse. No, none of this was right.
Izuku looked around, hoping to find something, anything, to help make sense of his situation.
He shouldn’t be in a forest. He hadn’t been in a forest only moments ago. Now, Izuku knew his memory was average at best, and not something to entirely rely on, but he was pretty sure he would have remembered wandering into a forest, especially if he had just been in the middle of a fight.
A quirk? Teleportation possibly? That didn’t explain the clear sky though—there’s no way the clouds could have just up and vanished into thin air… unless he had been teleported far enough away… but that wasn’t right. Something about that explanation didn’t satisfy him. Still, it was the only explanation he could think of—he’d just have to be wary of anyone with that possible quirk once he found them—them being those punks he had been fighting—again; if he could navigate out of the forest, that is.
Izuku’s gut twisted, momentarily causing him to stop. It almost felt like a pull, like someone or something had been trying to yank him back towards them or it. It left a cold, hard weight in the pit of his stomach—a bad omen for sure.
Over the years Izuku had learned to trust his gut, and right now, his gut was telling him something was wrong, very wrong.
Everything about today had screamed
off,
and now his doubt-filled thoughts seemed to be coming to fruition.
The mission—it wasn’t a mission so much as it was a self-proclaimed declaration because he was bored—he had gone on should not have been as much trouble as it ended up being; the vigilantes that he had encountered had been awfully prepared to fight him specifically, his partner not so much; the fight had been going too smoothly for anything but disaster to follow.
All of it added up to one thing: something was wrong.
It really shouldn't have come as a surprise. If Izuku thought about it, lots of people were out to get him. He had built up quite a reputation over the last couple of years, these last few months specifically.
That didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying when some wannabe vigilantes tried to attack him when he had just been going to the nearest convenience store—why he had been at the said convenience store was another matter.
He sighed as he continued to trudge forward.
The forest itself wasn’t dense, it was more akin to a grove of trees than an actual forest as he was easily able to traverse through it. There was a seldom patch of brush here or there, but otherwise, the forest was utterly bare.
Izuku shook his head, “Stupid vigilantes, thinking they can just warp me away…”
Now that he thought about it, the quirk could have been a warp quirk, similar to Kurogiri’s quirk. If that was the case… well, he knew how rare Kurogiri’s quirk was which begged the question: had Kurogiri warped him?
That didn’t make sense though, Kurogiri wouldn’t have any reason to warp him, and if he had it surely wouldn’t have been to a forest. No, the quirk had to be a coincidence.
Izuku continued his walk, muttering all the while and occasionally tripping over a stray root. He wasn’t the most dexterous of people, at least, not at the moment it seemed. During a fight, Izuku prided himself on his agility and quick-footedness.
It wasn’t too long until his aimless meandering of the forest floor brought him to its edge. The area that lay before him was strangely familiar.
“This… this almost looks like—” He cut himself off as he realized where he was. He couldn’t believe—of all the places in he could have stumbled upon. It had been a long while since he had last made an appearance here.
There was a reason he didn’t go there anymore.
Some tragedies needed more than time to heal.
It had been years,
so many years
, since it happened, but the memories burned fresh in his mind. Even to this day, the jagged scar that ran down his arm reminded him of that terrible night.
The night when his dreams morphed into nightmares.
Izuku stopped, unconsciously gripping his right arm, trying to stifle the memories as they came to him. He looked down at his arm… freezing as terror gripped him by what he saw. It wasn’t
his
arm. It couldn’t be.
Scars spider webbed up
his
arm, with a long jagged one marking him from his elbow down his forearm, but when he looked at his arm now… there was nothing. A few scars adorned his hand, but not nearly enough to make up the riddled mess his arm had been not even hours ago.
Something was wrong.
He whipped his head up and gazed over the courtyard before him, the cold headstones stared blankly back at him. A cold gust of wind blew through him.
Izuku turned away from them, not able to stand their uncaring gaze.
“This has to be the work of a quirk, there’s no other explanation…” he muttered to himself, clenching his fists. It had to be. There just was no other reasoning here… but then, what was the quirk? Transportation? Healing (of his scars)? A combination of both? He was missing something. If he could just figure it out, he was sure he’d be able to fix this mess he had found himself in.
He was startled out of his musings by an all too familiar feminine voice, “Izuku? I never thought I’d see you here…” It was a voice he’d dreaded hearing again, “I was just walking by when I saw you. What are you doing here, Izuku?”
Izuku was frozen, horror struck as she spoke. Her voice was calm, pleasant even, not a trace of the anguished cries that had marred it the last time they had spoken… but then Bakugo Mitsuki had always been a strong woman.
He turned to face her, “I, uh, was just—” he cut himself off. He didn’t have an explanation… but more importantly: why was Mitsuki even talking to him? She hated him, didn’t she? Or, at the very least, she couldn’t stand being in his presence for longer than necessary.
He didn’t need to answer appropriately it seemed, as Mitsuki continued, “Shouldn’t you be at Alliance Heights right now… or did you get permission to visit Inko?”
The question was innocent enough on the surface, but there were two things disturbingly wrong with what she had just said. One, was the facts that Alliance Heights was for the U.A. students; and, even more troubling was the fact that Mitsuki just mentioned his mom… but she… she was dead.
What the hell was going on?
Nothing was right; everything about this situation was just… wrong.
“Ah, no… I was just,” he said shakily, hoping Mitsuki wouldn’t notice, “I should probably head back now.” He turned heel and started to walk away, not giving any explanation as to where he was ‘heading back to’.
Mitsuki called to him, her voice as sweet as ever, “Okay, it was nice seeing you, and next time you see him, tell Katsuki he better be staying out of trouble.”
Izuku stumbled then.
He must be going crazy… “K-kacchan?”
“Yeah, tell that little shit he better not be causing trouble for you or any of his classmates.” Though the words were rather uncouth, the inflection had been endearing enough… and sincere.
This told Izuku one thing: either she was delusional, or he was, because, from where he was standing, both his mom and Kacchan had been dead for years.
He didn’t turn to meet her—he didn’t think he could, instead, he nodded stiffly and walked away.
This couldn’t be right… there had to be something else at play here. Nothing made sense, not the people, not the location he had been tossed into, and not the lack of scars that adorned his arm.
It begged the question: what exactly was going on, and how could he reverse it?
Was it reversible even? Or was this something permanent? He didn’t think want to think about that at the moment, so he focused on trying to reverse it.
There had to be something he could do… someone who could fix it… though the question was, who could he go to? It had to be someone he trusted. Could he even trust anyone anymore? Well, it wasn’t like he
really
trusted anyone anyway. This world was full of liars, and his friends were some of the biggest frauds he had ever had the misfortune to meet—he loved them dearly and would not hesitate to fight anyone who disagreed… actually, he had, on more than one occasion.
However, there were two people he trusted with his life. If he could find them, even just one of them, maybe he could figure out whatever was going on.
Though… finding them was a different matter. Izuku was fine when it came to general directions, or
he
thought he was, but the truth of the matter was… him trying to navigate someplace he was unfamiliar with was like someone who was quirkless trying to be a hero: impossible. He didn’t know
where
he was, nor did he know where he was going. Finding those two, as elusive as they were, was going to be an entirely new can of worms.
Izuku just didn’t have the patience to find them right now anyway. As much as he was loath to admit it, Izuku was enervated, even his bones were weighing him down.
As Izuku walked, his feet dragging, the fatigue became more prominent. He shouldn’t be this tired—he hadn’t done
anything
noteworthy enough to cause this kind of exhaustion… but then, maybe that quirk, or whatever the hell it was, had something to do with it.
Either way, he was drained, of both energy and strength. He needed to find a safe place to sleep—any alleyway, abandoned building, anything really would do. Izuku was within the city limits now, he could see the buildings towering in the sky.
He was familiar with the city—he couldn’t navigate it with precision, his partner usually did the navigating—but he
could
navigate it well enough… though, as he neared, this city felt foreign to him, not at all like the city he had grown up in. The buildings were wrong, no, not wrong, more like… misplaced. Walking through it, he felt like he was looking in a mirror: everything was there, but his perception of it was skewed ever so slightly.
He could have sworn that the theatre had been on the left side of the street… from this direction at least, but here it was, taunting him on the
right
side of the street. Wearily, he scanned the area for any viable place to spend the night—though, by the looks of the sun beating down on him, it was closer to noon than dusk. Eh, naps were never
not
an option.
He didn’t care what time it was, he felt like he could sleep for a week. Actually, he had… once… that had been a
rough
week.
He shook his head of the thought.
I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit—I need to figure just what the hell is going on… but first, I need to find a place to rest. I don’t know why I’m so tired. It must be the quirk that’s sapped me of all my energy. This
has
to be the work of a quirk. But… what
exactly
did the quirk do?
Trying to dispel the odd inquiries from his mind, Izuku continued to walk through the city, taking in the familiar-but-not-quite-right sites. He passed by a bakery with pastries on display in the window—it was weird, he mused as he had never seen nor heard of this bakery before—when he caught sight of his reflection.
Izuku stopped.
Instead of seeing his reflection, he just saw a knock-off copy of himself—and not even a good one at that. He had the same messy mop of green hair as always, the unruly curls running wild. He looked about the same height, and he was wearing a white T-shirt that said ‘T-Shirt’ which
was
something he would wear—it wasn’t what he
had
been wearing, but it was still something he would wear. So, if anything his impeccable style hadn’t changed… but then… he looked at his face, more specifically, his eyes.
They were both a brilliant hue of emerald, shining diligently in the glass.
That
wasn’t
what he had been expecting. It looked wrong, seeing two perfectly normal eyes ornamenting his face.
Very wrong.
Faintly, his hand went to touch his right eye, not quite believing what he was seeing. It was one thing for his injuries to have healed… it was another for his eye to have regenerated completely.
What
had
previously been the muddled almost-brown green of his iris, had been replaced with his natural sparkling green hue. It had been so long since he had seen his eyes the same color, not since…
On shaky feet, Izuku took a step back. This—he clawed at his eye—wasn’t—it couldn’t just be back—right.
None of this was right. Not his eyes, not his looks, not this whole goddamn world.
He bolted.
He didn’t know where he was going, and he kept his head down, but he didn’t stop. Exhaustion gnawed at him, and he stumbled a few times, but he didn’t stop until his feet had carried him far away. He was panting by the time he turned a corner and found himself in an alleyway.
Oh good, a dark alleyway hidden in shadows. Absolutely nothing could possibly go wrong in a place like this. Still, despite the distinctly ominous mien of the place, Izuku remained there, deciding it was better to try and calm himself down in a shady alleyway than out in the streets. Right now, discrepancy was vital.
This was crazy—this whole thing. Everything was so odd, the same but somehow different. It was like an entirely different world, but that couldn’t be right… so it had to be a quirk, right? If it was a quirk, then it was a powerful one..
It could be some kind of illusionary quirk, or perhaps a nightmare quirk—he’d been struck with one before, and they were not fun.
“What’s a kid like you doing in an alleyway like this? Shouldn’t you be out with friends or something?” A menacing voice taunted from somewhere beyond his line of vision.
And there went his moment of peace.
He looked up to see a person coming from the wall. It was an odd sight, and it threw Izuku off a little bit, seeing a man just straight up come into being from the wall. He had seen stranger, of course, but it was still kind of jarring and unnatural.
Izuku just rolled his eyes at the villain wannabe. Even the lowliest of thugs new to leave him alone… if they valued their lives and sanity.
“You think so?” Izuku parried. “And what about you… shouldn’t you be out robbing a convenience store or something of that caliber? Seems about your speed.” He quirked an eyebrow—confused and slightly freaking out or not, snarky commentary had always been a fun hobby of his.
The supposed villain—he figured any guy trying to mug, if that’s what he was even doing, a teenager was probably a villain, though a pretty low tier one—was clearly not amused with his witty banter. A shame, really. Izuku thought he was pretty clever, if he did say so himself, and he did… a lot.
“You think you’re funny punk,” the villain (wannabe) said, trying, but failing, to intimidate Izuku. “Guess I’ll have to teach you a lesson in manners.”
See, the problem was, when you were as experienced with these situations as Izuku was, though he usually wasn't the one getting mugged in a dark alleyway, it was tough to be intimidated.
So, instead of quaking in his shoes, he stood firm, crossing his arms and deadpanned, “Uh-huh. I’d just
love
to see you try.”
He smirked when he saw the villain—at this point he wasn’t sure he could call the person a villain anymore, they hadn’t even tried any underhanded tactics yet—trembling with rage.
In a way, Izuku was glad this guy had stopped him, it took his mind off the pressing issues that he
really, really
didn’t want to think about.
He saw the guy’s arm twitch, indicating that he was going to attack; in retaliation, Izuku activated—or rather, tried to—his own quirk. Much to his ire, his quirk didn’t react in the way it should have. While he did, indeed activate a quirk, it wasn’t…. his quirk. Green lightning crackled to life, engulfing him in a cowl.
He staggered backward until his back hit the wall, not used to the fire running through his veins like this.
What the hell is this? This isn’t my quirk… this is… what the hell is going on?
Luckily for him, the other guy was just as unprepared for his green-lightning-quirk-thing as well, because he fumbled a bit, backing away from him and blending back in with the shadows.
As much as Izuku wanted to teach this thug a lesson, his own worry, and anxiety at the arising problem he was facing forced him to make a tactical retreat. He fled.
With the lightning covering his entire being, he ran faster than he ever had before. Though his speed was impressive, his control was lacking… a lot, and therefore he crashed into walls more than he was willing to admit.
As he ran, not taking in where he was going, he thought about all that had happened today, from the very beginning to now, to try and figure out what just what the hell was going on. It just didn’t make any sense.
The day had been typical, like any other day before it. Sure, he had run into a crew of vigilantes, but they were—they should have been—easy to deal with. In fact, if he recalled correctly, and since there was no one her to refute him it was correct, his partner and him had been about to lay those vigilante’s to waste when he ended up in the forest. He still didn’t know how that had happened, and it was bothering him to no end. He hated not knowing things… but he knew someone who would—if they couldn’t help him, then he was royally screwed.
The green lightning continued to spark to life even after he had stopped several blocks away, in another abandoned alleyway, from where that wannabe villain had been. He gritted his teeth in frustration at that—he had run away, only cowards ran away. He wasn’t a coward.
Izuku knew he needed to calm down, think things through clearly and figure out what exactly was happening, but that was easier said than done. How could he calm down when everything was topsy turvy and wrong.
He took a few calming breaths, the lightning that was this new, unknown quirk he somehow possessed, was still flashing across his being, covering him in its green cowl-like state. He clenched his fist, he really didn’t know what to make of the quirk; it appeared to be some kind of speed-enhancing quirk, possibly. It had made him faster, but it would be naive to think that was the only thing it could do. Quirks often had layers, they weren’t just what they appeared to be at the surface level.
This quirk was powerful, he could tell, just by the way the energy it emitted burned through his veins. He wasn’t using it at full power and, much to his disdain, he wasn’t confident he could use it at full potential without injuring himself in the process. The more he thought about it and looked at the way the quirk manifested, the more he thought it might be a strength augmentation quirk—a really strong one.
Izuku rolled his eyes; strength augmentation quirks were overrated, and he hated them with a passion.
“Of course, I get the
one
type of quirk I despise the most.” He quipped to himself as he leisurely started to walk—of course, he had dropped the quirk before blending in with the public.
It had to be around six now, with the sun as low as it was, and his earlier fatigue came back full force. As exhausted as he was, there was still something Izuku had to do. He just didn’t know where to find him. Izuku didn’t expect to find him in his usual hideout, not when everything here was so messed up from what he was used to.
As he wandered, ignoring everyone on the street, he noticed all the signs and posters advertising up and coming heroes. There were a few he recognized, such as Hawks and Miruko, but there were others that he had never heard of either.
This didn’t bode well; Izuku was well versed with
all
of the heroes in this area, even the underground heroes didn’t go unnoticed by him… but these were… these were some of the highest ranking heroes, and he had never heard of them.
That settled it, he couldn’t waste any more time leisurely strolling through the city; he needed to find All For One. If anyone knew what was going on and could fix it, it was his dad.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He had to find Dad. He would know what to do—he always knew what to do. Like that one time, Izuku had been stung by that bee and it turned out he was allergic, his dad had been able to remove the stinger and administer something along the lines of an Epipen to him.
Now, he killed every bee, wasp, and hornet he saw. With his quirk, it had been easy… but now… his quirk was green lighting that enhanced his strength and speed. He supposed it would still be reasonably easy to kill a bee, but a lot more tedious than the task had been before.
Okay, so that wasn’t really relevant to his current status, but the thought rang through his head regardless.
It hurt, to not have his quirk… to not have those quirks right now. They were as much a comfort as they were a force to reckon with. They were his keepsakes from the two people he lost… he lost due to heroes.
It was why he loathed the hero society.
The circumstances didn’t matter to him, because regardless of the crime they were stopping, they
killed
the only people Izuku had cared about.
No, he couldn’t trust those egotistical people who branded themselves as heroes; he’d instead be labeled a villain any day. Sure, the work he did was underhanded… and illegal… but he never,
never
killed anyone without reason. Only once had someone’s heart stopped beating by his hand and to this day, Izuku could see the blood that covered his hands. It would never leave.
He was careful though, with his quirk and he made damn well sure that no innocent bystander would die because of his recklessness, he’d sooner die.
No, Izuku could never bring himself to kill just anyone… his father, on the other hand, had no problem ending a half-beat’s life because he found them to be annoying.
They had often argued about that. It was probably the only thing he had gotten into an actual fight with his dad over… the subsequent scar on chest told him not to go headfirst into battle with an, for all intents and purposes, immortal cryptid.
A scar you probably no longer bear.
He thought cynically. This body had scars sure, a lot too, but they weren't
his
scars; they were someone else’s.
Needless to say, his father and he did not get along great, it wasn’t the best father-son relationship, but it was all he had. For the most part, they tolerated each other. At their best, they bantered with each other, and at their worst… well… let’s just say it’s a good thing Kurogiri was as calm and collected as he was.
Still, his father had been there when no one else was, even if he had missed the first five years of his life—he never did forgive his father for not being at Mom’s funeral.
Thinking about all this now aggravated Izuku, he didn’t want to be thinking of these things. Not when he had to find his dad and sort out this mess.
Feet dragging, shoulders slumped, head down, and mind lost in his own woe, Izuku didn’t notice the guy walking towards him until their shoulders connected roughly.
“Hey, watch it, buddy,” the other man growled. His voice sounded familiar, but only faintly.
Izuku didn’t bother with a reply as he grabbed his shoulder—it ached slightly from their collision, but it would be fine. He looked up to see the man already leaving.
Oh… he knew who that was. The question was, why would
they
try to pickpocket
him.
It wasn’t like they were friends or anything, but even Griare knew not to mess with him.
He stood up before calling out, a menacing threat lying in wait on his tongue, “Hey, Griare… I’d like my wallet back.”
Griare stopped, then leisurely turned around, his brown eyes shining mischievously, “Oh, so you’ve heard of me. Interesting, I don’t recall having ever met a kid like you before.” He had a calm charm to him, it was how he got away with his petty theft. He smiled at Izuku with that so-called charm, “Am I already so notorious that random street kids know of me?”
Izuku shook his head, he wasn’t in the mood for Graire’s theatrics, nor did he want to deal with yet another person acting out of character. “Save it Griare, I’ve had a day like you wouldn’t believe. Just give me my wallet back, you should know not to steal from me.” As an added measure, he activated his quirk—if anything the green lighting that cascaded around him affixed to his intimidation.
“Oh wait… no, I do know you.” Izuku smiled, finally he was coming to his senses. “You’re that kid, that kid from U.A.… the one with that insane quirk.” Griare was either itching for a solid punch to the face or he was having as off a day as Izuku, because not only did he
not
give Izuku his wallet back, but he had the audacity to call him a
U.A Student.
It looked like he was going to have to fight someone today after all, “Griare, buddy, friend,” there was nothing friendly about his tone, “I suggest you give me my wallet back, then walk away. Cut your losses.”
When Griare didn’t immediately move, Izuku lurched forward and socked him in the jaw, grabbed his wallet—he had known Griare a long enough time to know where he stowed his stolen cash—and started to walk away. Griare had never had a chance with an enhanced speed and powered-up punch from Izuku. He didn’t even look like he was conscious anymore, splayed on the floor like the idiot he was.
“I did warn you, Griare. You should know by now to heed my warnings.”
A U.A. student? First Mitsuki talks about Alliance Heights like I live there… then Griare of all people calls me a student at the most prestigious hero academy. What is wrong with everyone today?
As he walked, preoccupied with his thoughts, he pulled out the three wallets he had managed to snag off of Griare—extra cash was extra cash. Of the three wallets, one was brown, one black and the last one had an All Might color scheme—it had been a long time since he’d last seen anything All Might related.
He opened the brown one first, wanting to see just how much cash he actually had on him—he had made it a rule to never carry a lot of cash. He pulled out an ample amount of cash, nothing fancy, but more than he thought there would be. The black wallet was similar.
Then, jokingly, as he didn’t really think the All Might-themed wallet would actually have anything of worth in, he went through the final wallet, pitying the poor sap who had such terrible taste in fashion.
His joking and pitying face fell into shock, though, when he opened the wallet to see a school I.D. Now, typically, that wouldn't matter to Izuku, he didn’t really care who he stole from; however, he wasn’t expecting the I.D. to be for U.A nor was he expecting to see his name and face plastered on the card.
Admittedly, his first thought was ‘
It’s not even a good picture of me,’
but then the more explicit problem came to mind.
That was a picture of him, clear as day. It was missing several scars, and the eye color for the right eye was wrong, but it was, without a doubt, him. Izuku stared at it, trying to see something, anything to prove that this was a fake, a joke, or a prank, but had no such luck. It checked out, was genuine, the real deal.
This was a disaster, a nightmare, the worst possible scenario.
Now, Izuku wasn’t an idiot, he was quite smart and he prided himself on his intellect. He didn’t rush headfirst into fights without some sort of plan and he always tried to analyze a situation before making huge decisions, so, Izuku decided it might be in his best interest to take a moment and go over the facts.
He knew for sure that his quirk had changed; it was completely different, not similar or anything, and it was the only one. He only had one quirk. It was strong as hell, he could tell, but it was only one.
His scars were gone. Most if not all of them had just vanished without a trace.
None of the villains around here seemed to know who he was, even though he was the son of the most notorious villain and had made a name for himself as well.
Griare, a pickpocketer that he
knew
thought he was a U.A. student as well as the fact that his I.D. labeled him as a student there.
Most harrowing of all though had to be Mitsuki’s insinuations. If her words were to be taken seriously, then it implied that not only was he enrolled at U.A. but also that Kacchan was there as well—that Kacchan was alive. And his mom… she had asked if he had been visiting her… did that mean…
That couldn’t mean…
Could she be alive?
Was it possible that he might, maybe, perhaps possibly be in a different world altogether?
It seemed implausible, but then… he
had
read up a bit on the multiverse theory, but he hadn’t really considered it a possibility until now… not with things so similar but different.
This was all too confusing to think about and he was too exhausted to be bothered to even try. He needed sleep, yes that’s what he needed. To clock out for a solid twelve hours. Then he would attempt to figure this mayhem out—or maybe it was just a nightmare and once he passed out he would wake up in reality.
The question now though… where should he sleep? If this was a different world, then he needed somewhere obscure, somewhere where he wouldn’t raise suspicion.
He recalled Mitsuki’s words from earlier today,
“Shouldn’t you be at Alliance Heights right now… or did you get permission to visit Inko?”
Alliance Heights or home with his mom… both viable options but… if he had—the other him—taken the weekend off to visit his mom—because she was still alive—then it might raise suspicion to go to Alliance Heights.
And besides… if his mom was alive here, if she was truly, undeniably alive, then…
he had to see her.
He turned his heel and started towards his old apartment, towards home. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t lived there in years, he would never forget where his real home was, because he may live with his father currently, but mom had
always
been his home. He just hoped that this world’s Inko lived in the same apartment his world’s had.
It didn’t take him nearly as long as it should have to reach what had once, long ago, been his apartment. Maybe an hour or so, the sun was still peeking through the horizon, but it was much lower and would soon disappear altogether. As it turns out, even if he felt as though he might pass out from exhaustion, the thought of seeing his late mother not… well dead, was enough to allow him to use his newly acquired strength-enhancing quirk.
He stopped at the entrance of the building catching his breath and building up the courage to enter. Now that he was here, he hesitated. It had been so long and… what if she wasn’t there. He still wasn’t wholly convinced he was in another world or that this wasn’t some elaborate trick—once Shigaraki had convinced him that there was a color called ‘
Marsquet
’ and that he was the only one who apparently couldn’t see it. Even Kurogiri had joined in… it hadn’t been his proudest moment.
This was an entirely different situation of course, but he still wondered. However, his body decided to answer for him when his knees started to buckle and he lurched forward to keep his footing. Lassitude had finally had enough of his disregard for it and was taking a final stand. So basically, he needed to rest or his body would pass out regardless of his location.
Heaving a sigh, and stealing himself, Izuku took one step forward, reaching for the door when it opened unexpectedly and slammed into his face.
In his fatigue-dazed stupor, he stumbled backward a few feet, grumbling all the while. This was ridiculous, just yesterday he was one of the most feared people on the streets, and now people were opening doors in his face. What a fall from grace this was.
Maybe it was time he started acting like the villain he was… it would come as quite a shock to people here who thought he was an aspiring hero (he spat at the mere thought of trying to become one of those ingrates with an inflated ego) that was for sure.
Now wasn’t the time though, he shook his head of the thought, but he did send a glare to the person who had opened the door in his face.
It was a man, tall, taller than him with an incredibly thin, almost skeletal structure. His hair was a golden mess of wild, unruly hair.
He looked familiar… very familiar. It was unsettling.
When the man turned, his eyes a luminescent blue encroached upon by a hollow blackness, Izuku realized who he was looking at.
He could never forget those eyes, no matter how much he wanted to.
This was All Might—he may look different and less threatening, but Izuku knew not to underestimate him.
“Ah, young Midoriya, I was just talking to your mother. She was wondering where you’d gone off to. She seemed quite worried,” he spoke as if they were old friends.
Izuku narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He had no words for All Might, the person who was responsible for one of his most grievous injuries.
Once, a long long time ago he had fleetingly thought of All Might as a wondrous person, amazing and awe-inspiring, someone he wished to be, but then... the truth had not been as kind as his dreams had.
All Might looked at him with perplexed eyes. Huh, they almost appeared to be sad, his eyes, but that couldn’t be. It had to be a trick of the eye.
“Is everything alright young Midoriya?” He questioned. It was innocent enough, but Izuku didn’t trust him.
He brushed past All Might, waiting until he had made it to the door, before replying, “As long as you’re still considered a hero, nothing will ever be alright.” It had the pitch of a whisper, but the venom of a snake.
His hatred and distrust for All Might ran deep. Izuku thought it was a reasonable response, considering what All Might had done. Having your eye ripped out when you were but a child of nine left lasting scars, ones that weren’t readily admissible.
He didn’t wait for the reply he was sure All Might had ready on his lips, instead, he headed straight for the stairs and bolted up to the fourth floor.
However, if there was something positive to take away from seeing All Might, it was the fact that it confirmed that he was in the right location, seeing as All Might had been talking to his mom for some reason or another—this also meant she was alive.
His heart clenched at the realization.
Though, this did bring up the question as to why All Might was talking to his mom… did he find out about her connection to his father? He doubted it, dad had done a pretty damn good job of keeping that a secret—up until Izuku’s debut as a villain and his son, but by then, Mom had been buried six feet under for five years.
He did wonder why it was that All Might was in that form though. As far as he knew, All Might didn’t look so… well weak. He was sure it was just a front unless, of course, All Might had found a successor… that would be annoying to deal with. He didn’t want to have to deal with some up-and-coming hero, especially if they were anything like All Might was—that would just be torture to deal with. One All Might was already too many, in his humble opinion.
He was standing in the hallway now, but he didn’t dare take a step forward. He could see his door, it looked just like the rest, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it. Mom was there… he missed her. He missed her a lot.
He visited her frequently… at the cemetery. He would go after dark, sneak into the vicinity, and sit in front of her grave for hours on end. Ten years, he thought bitterly, since he had last seen her smile… what…
what did it look like?
He had forgotten. His failure to recall simple features bothered him the most.
Izuku didn’t want to forget her.
He rubbed his eyes vigorously to chase the stinging pang away. There were vague memories he had of her; her hair had always had a citrus scent to it, and her voice had sounded melodic… that was back when he still had dreams when he believed in heroes and the good in the world.
Life had proved his ideals to be wrong and that people weren’t to be trusted, especially heroes.
He was so close to seeing her, but then… if this was a different world, she wasn’t
his
mom. The thought caught him off guard. Of course, if this was a different world, then it wasn’t her… it was just a look alike. Why hadn’t he realized this sooner?
It suddenly became very difficult to breathe.
He couldn’t do this. It would be his mom… but it wouldn’t be. It wouldn’t be
her
, just a look alike. He couldn’t deal with that. It would crush him…
Dragging a weary hand down his face, Izuku lethargically turned away from the hallway, making to leave the vicinity. He didn’t even care how tired he was, his bones ached and his muscles strained, but… though he would never admit it, the thought of seeing his mom, even if it wasn’t truly her, again… it, well it scared him.
This was a pain.
Behind him he heard a door open; he froze instinctively. The door that had opened had been one fairly close to him, and from it, very faintly, he could smell the scent of citrus.
His eyes widened as the memory of his came unbidden. It was stupid, it was a common smell, he didn’t need his brain associating it with such memories. They brought nothing but anguish.
There was an intake of breath and it took Izuku a moment to realize it was him who had drawn in a breath.
“Izuku?” It wasn’t really a question, more like a confirmation.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned. He wouldn’t look her in the eye—he couldn’t. “Uh, hey m-mom.” the word felt foreign on his tongue.
She let out something that Izuku could equate with a sigh of relief. “Oh good, I was starting to get worried about you,” she laughed it off as if she saw him every day, “You just missed Yagi-san, he had wanted to discuss your training, but I’m sure you two can figure it out some other time.” She was saying words, but their meaning had just washed through him. All he could do was latch onto her voice.
It was angelic, a soft melody—it was the single greatest thing and the worst thing he had ever heard. It was his mom… but this wasn’t
her.
It sounded just the same as it had all those years ago, just as loving and caring.
“Izuku… honey, are you okay?” She asked worriedly and he internally wilted, keeping his gaze down. If he didn’t look at her then it wasn’t real, then he didn’t have to acknowledge how cruel a joke this was.
He felt like Tantalus, reaching for that sweet temptation that was right in front of him but never being able to grasp it fully.
He walked forward, there was no sense in running away now, it would just raise suspicion. “Y-yeah, I’m fine just… just tired.” He wasn’t lying. He was beyond exhausted.
“I can see that. Why don’t you come in and I’ll fix you up some dinner.” She ushered him into their apartment.
The stinging in his eyes had returned to full force. He hated this, this was almost worse than her being gone because at least then he had closure, he knew she wouldn’t come back… but here… this… he was seeing a life he’d never be able to attain.
His mom was dead, this person right here wasn’t her. Everything about them may be the same, personality, looks, even the way she smelled, but… they weren’t the same person. He knew that, and yet…
His heart still ached as though they were.
This was his home, everything about it reminded him of when he was a kid; it made him want to laugh and cry and scream and punch something all at once.
He heard his mother tell him to wait in the living room while she made dinner. In a moment of thoughtlessness, he lifted his gaze and met a pair of brilliant green eyes to match his own.
Ten years may have passed since he had last seen her, but she looked the same, she radiated the same, kind, gentle aura as always. Everything about her reminded him of his mom. She may have gotten shorter over the years, or perhaps he had just gotten taller, but she was still the one person Izuku looked up to more than anyone else.
They said that curiosity killed the cat, but maybe just this once, satisfaction brought it back, because… seeing her didn’t cause him nearly as much pain as he thought it would, as it should have. Instead, it gave him a sense of clarity.
This wasn’t his mom, he knew that and while everything about her seemed to be completely identical to his mom, there was something different about her. It wasn’t something he could pinpoint, nor did he care to. It made him feel relieved almost, to know that even if his mom was dead, this world’s Midoriya Inko was still alive and breathing.
It just made sense to him. He couldn’t explain it, it was irrational, as most feelings were, but it was undeniably there.
With his mind somewhat eased—there were still a lot of questions he had, but before he could even attempt to sort through them, he needed to sleep—he headed over to the couch.
It was old and worn down, as if used frequently, but was still in good condition. He sat down, his own weariness pulling at his eyelids. Now that he looked around, he realized that was how most of the furniture looked, old and worn but loved. It was a comforting thought, and subsequently his last one because he was out before his head even hit the armrest of the couch.