Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Swan Song

Izuku Midoriya felt completely and utterly encased in darkness.

He shouldn’t have been so surprised. He expected this, didn't he? He knew that things would end up like this one way or another. There was no hope for him -not an inkling of chance- that he would’ve ever gotten that happy ending he’d always wanted. He was quirkless, for goodness sakes; quite literally powerless. This ‘hero dream’ had long changed from an actual desire to help others, to a desperate attempt to reassure himself of his own self worth.

To make things worse, he had troubled his own mother over this. She watched helplessly as he faded away, falling into his own pit of despair. The longer he allowed himself to suffer his delusions, the more he denied her of any and every attempt to help. He thought about the constant arguments that had started over his neglect of his mental and emotional wellbeing. It sent shivers down his spine just thinking about the nights she stayed up crying over him. He would disregard her at every turn, refusing to see a therapist or get any sort of medical aid.

If he had accepted either of them, it would be him ultimately admitting that there was something wrong. He didn’t want to believe that. He wanted to continue to be clouded by his own desires and delusions. He wanted to stay in his own fairytale world where anything was possible if you just stayed determined. He didn’t want to see the cracks in the walls. He didn’t want to believe that anything could have possibly been wrong. But there was, and he knew it. He was all sorts of messed up in the head, so why didn’t he just take her hand?

It was too late now. The only hand he could see in this moment was the hand of the grim reaper himself. His cold and eerie embrace awaiting Izuku just over forty feet away from him- downwards. It would only take a split moment. The worst part would be the fall. Just a few seconds of fear and weightlessness; then it would all be over. There wouldn’t be any pain. Izuku made sure to choose the highest point of the Aldera middle school building. It stood right over the roundabout drive through, so there was no chance of cushion.

He swallowed, slipping off his red sneakers and placing a small folded piece of paper inside of it. His mother was sure to get the note once the police discovered his shoes. Hopefully, he didn’t miss any important things to be said, considering it would be the last thing he’d ever relay to his mother. Of course, that didn’t have to be the case. This didn’t have to be the case. Yet, he refused to step down from the edge of his school roof. With the way things are now, he couldn’t bring himself to leave that spot.

Everything in the past that led up to this moment held a grip on him so tight, it was like there was a noose tied around his neck, and it was choking him relentlessly.

Years ago, when Izuku found out he was quirkless, it not only shot a missile size hole through his dreams, but it also shattered one of his most significant relationships. He had been best friends with a boy whose family knew his own. Bakugo Katsuki. Izuku called him ‘Kacchan’, because that is just how much he cared for the boy.

They were inseparable. Whenever one of them were in trouble, the other would not be far from them. They’d do anything and everything together, and they had even worshiped the same hero: All Might. Kacchan worshiped All Might’s strength and undisputed win streak. Izuku worshiped All Might's valor and joyous light, a light no other hero could fathom competing with.

They would fawn and swoon over the symbol of peace, playing games that honored his name and taking turns to imitate him.

They would back each other up in every moment of conflict. Typically it was Kacchan protecting Izuku. The freckled boy wasn’t much of a fighter when he was young, and was pretty prone to being bested in each and every battle. Kacchan, however, stood tall and secure. Even when it was clear he wouldn’t win, he’d stand and fight until his opponents grew tired and left. Then he’d turn around with the brightest smile -stained red from his bloodied nose- and he’d flex his little arms as if he had been winning the entire time.

Goodness, how Izuku admired him. The young boy would constantly fantasize about the type of hero duo they’d be when they grew up. They’d fight together, and that time Izuku could protect Kacchan, and give the same bloody smile.

But that would never come to happen. Eventually, they had gotten to an age where their quirks began to manifest. Kacchan’s quirk had been publicized at school almost immediately. He was a pretty popular kid; known for his bravery and infectious confidence. Everyone watched in awe as small flutters and flickers of light went off in his small hands. They were explosions, small but brilliant. The class praised him, and teachers encouraged him. They had already deemed him the best.

Then it was Izuku’s turn.

And again the next day.

And again the next day.

In the end, the teachers settled for him doing a show and tell when he knew it arrived.

He never did the show and tell.

He never got his quirk.

Izuku became the laughing stock of the century. Everyone viewed him as pathetic. When it came time for gym class, he was left out of every team. ‘He doesn’t have a quirk’ they would say, ‘How can he help us win?’

When it came time for lunch, no one would open their tables to him. ‘He doesn’t have a quirk,’ they would laugh, ‘no way can he sit with us.’

When it came time to group work, no one would claim him. ‘He doesn’t have a quirk,’ they would whine, ‘I don’t wanna be stuck with him.’

It hurt, but he thought he could shrug it off and lean on those who he called friends. He thought he could lean on Kacchan; and take comfort in the older boy's normally warm shoulder. Kacchan always let him lean on his shoulder; but not this time. This time it turned cold. Nothing hurt more than that day.

“You’re quirkless, Deku.” Kacchan chided, “I’m supposed to be the greatest, so why would I be friends with someone so pathetic?”

Izuku winced, looking up at the boy with a bowed head. “T-that’s not nice, Kacchan! I can still be strong, with or without a quirk.”

With a chuff, the older boy turned his back to his friend. “You’re mental if you think that.”

Izuku had tried to maintain their relationship then, following the blond around and trailing behind his new friend group. Each time they’d make fun of him, and beat him up if he ever got in the way of their fun. They’d abandon him if the opportunity arose, and he’d be left in his tears, wishing they’d come back and tell him it was only a joke. A cruel, and unfunny joke.

As they got older, Izuku stopped trying. He’d actually end up avoiding Kacchan, trying to stay completely out of his way in hopes of getting home without burns and bruises. It normally worked. He’d keep his head low wherever he walked, and wouldn’t utter a peep. Even his classmates would walk right past him without a remark. He had learned how to become invisible.

But similarly, around this time, the loneliness began to set in. He would find himself holding back tears as he watched others converse, socialize, and unite. All the while he’d sit in the corner of the lunchroom, class, or wherever he was; unwanted and worthless to everyone.

He would say to himself ‘at least I have family’ to remind himself that he was never truly isolated; but even that wasn’t true. His mother, Midoriya Inko, was his only provider. His father had left them when he was young. Inko would often tell Izuku that he was just in another country, America to be precise, working away with his business to make money for them. But as Izuku grew, he began to ask questions. Why hadn’t the man ever come back? Why has he not called to speak to Izuku? Where is all this ‘money’ they were supposed to have?

By and by, Inko stopped lying and Izuku learned the truth. His father did go to America on a business trip, but he never planned on coming back. Neither of them knew why. All they knew is that Inko got a call in the dead of night that broke the news. So she worked long hours, slaving so that Izuku could have a good school, good home, and a good life. The irony of it all. Izuku rarely got to see his mother, and often had to make his own breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He’d leave dinners out for her when she got home, and she would eat them and apologize in the morning. He’d always forgive her.

But sometimes he wished she’d just take a day- just one- to stay with him. To be his mother, and to show him the love he’d seen all the other kids get from their parents. The closest he’d ever gotten was when he’d cried about not having a quirk, and she held him tightly as she accompanied him in his tears. Unfortunately, that was not the time in which he wanted a hug and affection. That day, he had wanted encouragement and support.

Izuku would soon find himself exceptionally depressed. His social life was nonexistent, and his self confidence was so low he’d often trip on it. He felt unwanted, severely unloved, and extremely unhappy. He would have been better off sitting in his room and never leaving. Its not like people would have noticed his absence anyway. He could feel himself slowly floating away, detaching from reality with every god-forsaken day.

Thankfully, there was one thing that did keep him grounded. One individual thing that made every morning breath worth it.

Yuuei, the number one hero school in all of japan.

Ten months ago, he had found out that they were allowing applications from youth without quirks. He was a youth without a quirk. He had a chance. So he filled out the application and took the written exam. He passed -not with flying colors, but he passed. He turned in his application to his teacher the next day of school and sat at his signature ‘back of the class’ desk. Everything felt hopeful.

Their teacher had ignored the class activities for the day, knowing that the students just wanted to get involved in the hero festivities. Everyone had applied to their schools and were awaiting the results. Kacchan had applied to Yuuei, of course. He bragged to the students about it, calling them ‘extras’ and telling them they were nowhere near his level.

Things could have just ended there, and the day could have gone on as normal. But for some reason, their teacher desired to see Izuku suffer more than he already did. He outed the freckled boy, announcing how he also applied to the most prestigious school in the nation. Kacchan’s face had never been more red.

Izuku had lost his invisibility cloak, and he was once again the bag for punches. Everyone laughed, mocked, and shamed him for even going through with such a deranged attempt. Kacchan silenced them all, slamming his fist down onto Izuku’s desk, igniting a small explosion hot enough to make Izuku wince.

“Listen here you damn nerd,” He growled. “You’re worse than these rejects. You’re quirkless. They’d never accept somebody like you.”

Izuku struggled to sit himself up after falling onto the floor. “T-that’s not entirely true! They got rid of that rule. I can-”

Another explosion silenced him. “I think you’re missing the picture, Deku. You wouldn’t even pass the physical exam! You’re just wasting everyone’s time!”

The berating went on for a while longer. Only when the bell rang did it stop. The teacher had done nothing about it -as always- so Izuku was quite literally saved by the bell. He didn’t know how much longer he could take the harassment. It was like a thousand negative voices were in his head, beating him down internally. It was as if he were surrounded by demons and devils, pulling at him with the desire to drag him into the depths of hell. It was working. Every moment felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper into the flames. Every class, every insult, and every lonely night made him feel like he was drowning in the fires of hades.

He sloppily stood from his seat, carelessly dragging his items off of his desk and into his bag. All he wanted in that moment was to go home and wallow in the darkness of his room. He’d thought to text his mother that she’d need to pick something up for dinner. He didn’t feel like eating, let alone cooking. So he pulled out his phone, only to have it snatched away by two familiar sweaty hands.

“We ain’t done here, Deku.” Kacchan looked even more vexed than he did earlier. “I plan on being the only student to graduate from this crappy nothing school, and you’re not gonna ruin that.”

“Not that he can, anyway.” One of his lackeys snickers from behind him.

“W-we don’t know what the practical exam is y-yet.” Izuku pushed himself up against the wall behind him. He wanted out of this entire situation. “I-I could p-pass.”

Kacchan shook his head, dropping Izuku’s phone negligently to the floor. “You’re not even going to get in. Even IF they accept you -which they wont- you’re going to do right by everyone and stay far away from Yuuei. I’m not asking.”

“W-why? T-that doesn’t even make sense! It’s not going to bother you-”

“Knowing a worthless weakling like you was given a pitiful opportunity to join the country’s highest hero academy is going to bother the HELL outta me.” Kacchan looked over to Izuku’s desk. Izuku’s breath caught in his throat as he realized he had left his hero notes on it. It was now in Kacchan’s clutches.

The blond twirled it around in his hands, eyes glued to Izuku’s face. “They’d be wasting precious time and energy on you, trying to figure out ways for the quirkless student to keep up. It’ll take away from the rest of us. But you’re too damn selfish to realize that. Some hero…”

Then there was a blast, and Izuku’s book fluttered feebly out of the window. His heart sank into his stomach. Before he knew it, he was up on his feet and rushing over to the opening. There was absolutely no chance he could grab it; it was already far beneath him by now. But it certainly put more distance between him and his oppressor, and that was something he could be thankful for.

“Now do yourself a favor, Deku.” Kacchan continued. He opened the classroom door, stopping just at the threshold. “If you want to be a hero so badly, take a swan dive off the top of the building and pray you get a quirk in the next life.”

He had left Izuku in that room feeling more forlorn than he had ever felt before. Izuku didn’t think that was possible. If only for a second, he did wish he could be like his journal and fall forsakenly to the ground below.

On the way home, it was like his thoughts of death had come to punish him. A man made of slime had attacked him as he strolled through a tunnel under a bridge, and for a second, Izuku really thought he would die. It wasn’t until he found himself waking up just outside the underpass that he realized he was alive, and not alone. Before him stood a man he’d believed he’d only meet in his dreams. All Might.

He smiled a genuine smile for the first time in a long time. They had only talked for a short while before All Might tried to leave, but Izuku was not yet ready for their moment to end. He had grabbed onto the hero as he took off, and All Might had to land them on some building to get him off. Izuku did not regret his actions.

On that rooftop, he told All Might everything; from his quirklessness, to his bullies, and his desire to be a hero. He hadn’t spilled his heart out like this in forever. He hadn’t told anyone about how he felt, or what he was going through. He didn’t even really want to tell All Might. But he was so desperate for a change. He wanted so badly to have hope again; to have happiness again. He didn’t want to wake up every morning in fear of failure. He didn’t want to have to convince himself that he had a chance, or to stare in the mirror and tell himself he had value.

Izuku didn’t want to suffer anymore.

So he outed himself to his idol. Now, first he had to get past an insane discovery of All Might’s terrifyingly scrawny and sickly form -he would take the hero’s secret to the grave. Only after that promise did the man stand to address his question.

And the answer broke him to pieces.

He didn’t know why he expected anything different. It’s his own fault for holding onto the delusion when he KNEW the outcome was going to be failure. Everyone had told him so, it wasn’t like the option was still up in the air. His own mother had never even told him there was still a chance, and she avoided the topic entirely. Now the symbol of peace, his Idol and love, was telling him he could not be a hero. Not without a quirk.

All Might had left him there on the top of that building. He said something while walking away, but Izuku didn’t hear it. He was too stuck in his own head. ‘We told you so.’ That’s what they’d all say. They’d laugh at him, and make a joke of his traumatic realization; if it was even really a realization.

What was he to do now? Move on? Simply pretend as if he didn’t ineptly put everything he had on this unlikely future of heroism? He needed it. He needed it to feel worth something. Where could he go that wouldn’t expect some level of quirk use? There would be no place where he wouldn’t be seen as a quirkless Deku. He couldn’t do anything else. He couldn’t be anything else.

He had failed and he was nothing. Everyone would move on in life and forget about him completely. He would live and die alone, invisible and forgettable.

It took him forever to get off of that roof -the right way, that is. When he got home, his mother had been sitting on the couch in their small living room. She looked stressed. She met him at the door and began rambling on about how he had worried her with how late he had gotten home. She had gotten off work early and wanted to surprise him with dinner, but he took forever. It was 9:15. He had been on that roof since around 5:00.

He coerced himself to eat dinner and went to sleep almost immediately that night. The one time his mother was home to greet him, and he couldn’t even summon enough of himself to talk to her.

He spent the weekend moping about, unwilling to leave his room. He utilized his time trying to decide whether or not he’d ask to be placed in the support course, or maybe general ed course at Yuuei. It would be the wiser decision, yes. But… What if he could use support items to make up for the quirk he lacked?

One would think he’d give up and accept the reality of his situation, especially after a pro themself told him he’d basically fail as a hero. Yet, Izuku was never told that support items would make no difference. He’d spoken about quirklessness as if his body and mind itself would suffice. Could it hurt trying another route?

He…

Who was he kidding?

He was far gone. He was so broken that he was holding hope only out of habit of doing so. He was a broken record, repeating things and praying that the power of words would take control and put him where we desired to be most. There were tears streaming softly down his face while he drew out forms of gear and weapons he could use to his advantage. He could still be a hero.

He could still be a hero.

When Monday came around, Izuku had to fight to get himself out of bed and to school. He had entered the class in a zombie-like state. There was chatter about a monster attack that had happened a few days before, and for a second Izuku thought it was about him; but evidently it was about Kacchan, who had been abused by the exact same slime monster. Supposedly, the infamous Present Mic had arrived to save the day. He was a good choice. Strong sonic waves like his were sure to make the slime man unstable and unable to maintain any form.

Izuku scanned the room for his old friend; but Kacchan wasn’t at school that day.

Ten months later. This month, last week. The practical exams. Izuku had gone, regardless of his mother’s pleading. He didn’t allow himself to stand out. In lieu, he tried his hardest to blend in, to be invisible. Kacchan had seen him and scowled at him, but he didn’t make a scene. Makes sense, considering they were in a very important place. One wrong move and the blond would find himself looking for another school.

When they got into the auditorium, they went over the rules of the test. Izuku should’ve walked out then. He should have just gotten up and went home. There was no way he would be able to get even one point in a task like this. How would he take on any of these things? Had he known beforehand that this would be the case, he would have at least tried to make a plan. Support items were allowed for those without quirks, or strong abilities at all.

Kacchan scoffed beside him, “Don’t get cold feet now, nerd. This is what you wanted.”

When the exam started, Izuku couldn’t stop himself from crying. He was running around like a headless chicken, pathetic and powerless. He could do nothing. He was barely dodging enemy attacks, let alone responding to them. He was embarrassing himself. The boy felt -and definitely looked- insane every time he attempted to fight a bot, only to end up running and screaming.

Then the zero pointer came out, and everyone began to rush in the opposite direction. One girl got stuck under a stone and Izuku was foolish enough to try to save her, as if he wouldn’t die himself. He ran over to her and grabbed her arm, pulling miserably to get her out from under there. He managed it, but just barely. The bot’s foot came crashing down just as he got her from her binds, and they ran as fast as they possibly could to get away from it.

The running felt like an eternity; and when the buzzer went off and the exam was announced to have ended, Izuku remembered that he had gotten not a single point.

Today was the day he had received the news from the school. He wanted to be alone, so he went to the Aldera Middle School building and climbed to the roof. The sun was setting when he arrived. No one would possibly find him there.

He sat down on a vent box, internally preparing for the results. He had to fight through a stomach of butterflies and bile before he could play the report system.

“Hello examinee Midoriya Izuku” It was All Might. He was a teacher this year? “I remember you, and I must say I was shocked to see you in the exam this year. You are a stubborn boy for sure, and I do admit that your determination is to be admired, but…”

He trailed off, looking for the right words to say. “I told you before, young man, that being a quirkless hero would not be easy. Those bots are nowhere near as dangerous as a real villain with tactics and intent. You barely survived out there, Midoriya. You can see for yourself now that being quirkless in the hero world is the equivalent to being a liability. Now I must say, you certainly left an impression on someone. A young girl came to speak on your behalf-” A video played of the girl from the exam. She was asking that some of her points be given to Izuku.

“You weren’t without points, so it wasn’t necessary. Saving someone is what heroics is all about. Therefore, you gained 60 points for your valiant act, young man.”

Izuku felt his heart jump. He had 60 points. That was above the amount necessary to get into the school. Did he…

Did he just make it in?

Him, a quirkless nobody, made it into Japan’s number one hero school. He wanted to scream, to faint, to cry, everything. He could feel his body starting to shake with shock, and his eyes growing hot with tears. No one believed in him. HE didn’t even believe in him. Yet, he gained 60 points and passed an exam that he should’ve failed without any power. He would be the first quirkless hero.

“-But… saving a life can be done in many ways.”

Izuku wavered.

“You don’t need to be a certified hero to pull someone from rubble. You don’t need to be a certified hero to pull someone from a burning house, or stop them from being assaulted. I told you before, police work also allows for you to be helpful and more importantly to be safer. Heroes are expected to take on missions that no one else can take, and risk our lives above all else. Son, we just cannot allow you to enter the hero course.”

Izuku didn’t breathe. He didn’t blink. He even stopped hearing. He felt cold.

“If you had applied for the support role, or even the general education course alongside the heroics course by the due date, we could’ve gotten you into one of those. But you got tunnel vision, and your eye was on the impossible. We truly thank you for coming here Izuku, but unfortunately, we do not think you should attend our school this year. If you desire to apply again next year, we would love to have you.”

It cut off then, and Izuku sat there, frozen.

Heh, so he didn’t make it in after all.

Of course he didn’t.

Izuku would never be a hero…

So there he stands, at the edge of that roof, looking down into the lot.

‘Take a swan dive off the top of the building and pray you get a quirk in your next life.’

Kacchan is probably laughing at him right now, wherever he is. He likely already knows that Izuku didn’t get in. Hell, everyone knows. How can a quirkless nobody like him get into a hero academy, let alone Yuuei. What can he do for anyone?

Izuku feels a familiar warm tear streak down his cheek. He smiles lightly. He really is insane. Truly delusional, useless, and insane. Did he really waste a portion of his life trying to succeed in a fairytale?

He inches closer to the edge of the roof.

He’s already wasted fifteen years of his life hoping for something that would never have come. He didn’t prepare a back up plan, nor did he believe he’d succeed in anything else. Even if he managed to get into another career choice, how would he have felt for the remainder of his life? Izuku can only imagine the many mornings he will wake up wishing things had been different. He doesn’t want to live his life with regrets. He doesn’t want to feel this way for the rest of his life.

He stands on nothing but his heels now.

There is nothing he could do. He has no quirk, no strength, no friends, no pride, and now he has no school to attend. He should have just applied to general studies or support like he had thought. It would have been better to be a student outside of what he wanted than to not be a student at all. But it’s too late now. Too late for another application, too late for a change of mind-

And too late to leave the roof.

Izuku looks down at the rounded lot once more.

At least there’s something he can’t fail.

When he jumps, it becomes the first time in a long time that his mind is empty and fretless. Something about rushing winds and weightlessness just strips your head of any and every thought; maybe it’s shock, maybe it’s adrenaline, or maybe it’s just cold fear. Whatever it is, he’s thankful for it. That ten to twenty seconds of tranquility and emptiness were the best seconds he has had in a long time.

Above him, the stars begin to take shape. It’s an attractive sight; the sky, that is. He smiles gently at the image of little lights sprinkled messily across the dark earthly ceiling like a black table cloth sprinkled over with sea salt. It’s peaceful, and it’s heartwarming. It’s just the thing he needs to see before the rest of the world goes black.

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“Well, things certainly worked out for us, didn’t it.”

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“Wake up, boy. I don’t have all day.”

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“We’ve only just met, and you’re already beginning to annoy me.”

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… Fogs of dark silver clouds Izuku’s vision as he lies baffled on the ground. Starry skies and windy breezes give way to complete, utter darkness and dense air. This space is full of contradictory energy; He feels cold, and yet so hot. Everything feels heavy, yet so light. He feels so at peace, and yet terrified. Where is he? Didn’t he die? Is this the afterlife; a black void full of stone cold nothingness?

“Quite dreadful, isn’t it? Or should I say, aren’t you?” at the sound of the deep and gruff voice, Izuku’s head rises from the ground to peer behind himself. The speed of the movement immediately throws him off balance. The gravity of this place is unstable; it feels as if he’s bouncing back between lightspeed and sluggish delay.

He finally manages to get to one knee, facing the direction of where the voice came. It’s hard to see in this void, and he can just barely make out a silhouette within the darkness. He blinks the fog away from his eyes in an effort to see the person better. As if the individual can sense his struggle, they take a few steps forward, and their being becomes almost as clear as day- or night.

A large man, definitely just below the seven-foot range, stands dominantly over Izuku’s kneeling frame. His eyes are a striking golden color with thick arrow-like eyebrows. There is a noticeable scar that runs through his left brow and eye, ending just at his cheekbone. His undercut hair is short and curly at the top, brightening from a dark brown at the roots to a golden blond towards the ends. He is admirably muscular and lean. He has a stubble, Klingon beard that is as dark as his roots.

Izuku can’t help but to eye a strange collection of symbols that is tattooed on his right pectoral and trailing down his arm. Izuku notices among the symbols a more familiar one in the center of his pec; the kanji symbol for “death.”

Is he currently kneeling before the grim reaper?

“No, you are not.”

With a choking start, the freckled boy’s eyes meet the mysterious man’s. “How did you do that?”

The man is stoic, glaring down at him as if every second is an exhausting waste of time. Time that Izuku isn’t even sure exists in this place. “Do what.”

“Read my mind.”

“I didn’t read your mind, boy.”

“Bull. Just then I thought something and you responded to it.” Izuku gets to his feet, stumbling against the abnormal gravity around him as he did.

“Yes, but I didn’t read your mind. I don’t need to. I’m a part of you. What you think, I know.”

“What I think, you know?” He repeats. “Okay, what- wait- just- who are you? Where am I? I’m supposed to be dead-”

“You ARE dead. For now.” The man cuts him off with a wave of his hand, “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be talking to me right now.”

“For- for now? Wait-” Izuku backtracks, “Okay, again. Who are you? And what do you mean, for now?”

“I am your quirk. Shinō.” The man answers with a withering look. “And I mean what I said. ‘For now’. I’m sending you back into your world once you are done here.”

Izuku blinks, his mouth twitching in search of a response to give. He doesn’t have a quirk. That was, quite literally, the reason he jumped from the school -among other things, of course. So how is it that in death, he was being told otherwise?

“I’m sorry, you’re mistaken. I don’t have a quirk, and I certainly don’t want to go back.”

The man, Shinō, clenches his jaw in visible agitation. Someone has anger issues. “You have no authority here yet, so I will do as I desire; and I desire to send you back.”

“Yet? What are you talking about!” Izuku huffs, “Also, It’s MY life that I wanted to end, what right do you have to counteract that!?”

“The right of being your quirk.”

“I don’t have a damn quirk!”

“Do explain then how you are standing here, boy.”

“Because I’m dead and in limbo!?” It’s a reasonable guess. “Or maybe I’m not dead at all yet, and this is some stupid pre-death hallucination!”

“This is not limbo, and you are certainly deceased. This is you. We are standing within a space known as your ‘Kosei Shin’. Anata no Kosei no shin, the core of your quirk. Every person has a space like this, where quirks manifest and grow. It typically resembles their abilities.” -He gestures to the space around them. “Someone who’s quirk is poisonous, for example, would find this place to be dead, toxic, and the intensity of it all would depend on them entirely. Should he be an angry and vengeful fellow, that place would be unbearable. Granted, few men will ever lay eyes on a place like this. You’re a rare case. Your quirk requires you to come here for it to even activate.”

Izuku looks at the man with an expression fit for a braindead fool. “Wait, hold on. None of this is making sense. You’re telling me that I’m currently dead and standing in my- a place where my quirk should have formed inside of me?”

“That is exactly what I’m telling you.”

“So what, I just have some invisible quirk that hasn’t shown itself yet?” This had to be a hallucination.

Shinō bares his teeth. “Listen to what I’ve been saying boy, it HAS shown itself to you. I am your quirk.”

“I’ve never heard of a personified quirk. I mean, there are quirks that spawn individuals or animals to respond to the quirk bearer, but for the quirk itself to be another being-”

“That’s because this quirk is so rare that humanity has yet to recognize its existence. It’s a ‘Spirit Type Quirk’. Most, if not all spirit types, appear later into the quirk bearer’s life, if they even appear at all.”

“Until it appears, huh? So I’m guessing there’s some sort of trigger involved in this?” Izuku looks down at his hand. The man had mentioned earlier that Izuku’s death was necessary for his quirk to activate. Was his suicide the trigger for this ‘quirk’ he has?

“You’re quick, for an idiot.” -Izuku shoots the man a glare- “Yes, spirit types must go through a sort of experience, state, or circumstance that resonates with their spirit. A spirit of love must be triggered through love. A spirit of life must be triggered through life…” He trails off, offering Izuku the opportunity to interject.

“A spirit of death must be activated through death…?”

“Your suicide awakened me, your spirit. I am Shinō: King of Death.”

It’s silent for a moment. Izuku needs time to process, and Shinō is kind enough to give it to him. Izuku’s eyes sort through the darkness, taking in this place that was supposedly his. “So I hold a spirit of death. No wonder everything is so dark. But why is it so- uh…”

Shinō steps beside him, copying his actions and scanning the area. “Clashing? Both hot and cold, heavy and light, calm and panicked? Because you haven’t yet decided the type of vessel you want to be.”

Izuku looks off into the voided distance. “The vessel I want to be?”

“You and I are the same, yet we are also different. How you use me and occupy my power will determine what this space will look like.”

“Your power…” Izuku breathes, “I- so I’m not just a body for a body? I’ll have actual abilities that come with this?”

Shinō raises a brow in his direction, probing into the boy's question.. Izuku continues, “I- uh- I just thought that with all the things I’ve been through, It would’ve been devastating to find out I had a quirk that was so- well, pointless. No offense. It just would have meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. If all I could do was talk to someone who lived inside of me then…”

“You don’t have any abilities. Not yet. We haven’t bonded. So technically, yes. All you can do is talk to ‘someone who lives inside of you.’. And even that is limited.”

Izuku groans. This man has a habit of saying anything, and explaining nothing. “Elaborate. Bonded? limited?”

Shinō rolls his shoulders, searching for the best course of delineation. “Manifesting me was only the first step. The second step is known as a ‘Bond’. It allows me to grant you my strength and power and make it yours. You become me, minus my actual nature.”

“And how do we do that?” Izuku queries. “In what ways do I become you?”

“It depends on the type of bond, which depends on the will of the vessel. There are three bond types. First, there is the separated bond.” -He holds up a finger as visual aid- “An oxymoron, yes. The separated bond means that the will of the vessel is weak, and the Spirit overpowers them. This destroys any chance of communication between the two. Not to mention that, depending on the type of spirit, the vessel can be usurped. Imagine a man whose spirit is a spirit of nightmares. Should that man go to sleep, his spirit will be in a state that gives him strength. That spirit can, and often will, overthrow the vessel and take control of his body. When the vessel finally comes to, they would see the aftermath and damage. Or not, if the spirit is kind.”

Izuku shutters at the thought of someone waking up from what they thought would be a typical night’s sleep, only to find themselves in a compromising position at another location. They would never be able to stop it, from the sounds of it. Nor would they be able to address the spirit inside of them.

“The second, is a centered bond.” Shinō continues, holding up a second finger. “This typically means that the control between vessel and spirit is almost equal, teetering back and forth depending on the will of the man. Communication is limited. When we do communicate, it will be under certain circumstances. For us, your anger, hatred, and bloodlust are three states in which I will be able to speak with you. I wouldn’t be able to commandeer you, but you will become more like me when you begin to lose yourself.”

Shinō says it with one of the creepiest smiles Izuku has ever seen. The man, being the monarch of death, probably enjoys taking lives or manipulating them at the very least. Izuku really should have been more specific in his wishes. Now he was an aspiring hero with a villainous spirit. The irony.

“Lastly, the full bond. The will of the vessel is strong, and therefore they have complete and utter control over their spirit. They can coerce their spirit to do as they please, and they are not restricted from any sort of communication.”

Izuku nods his head thoughtfully. “What’s the deal with that, the whole communication thing?”

“We spirits do not enjoy being under the control of humans, although we do enjoy interacting with the real world.” Shinō traces the markings on his arm nonchalantly, seemingly uninterested in answering the question . “There is a natural barrier between us and that realm, and our ability to speak to you is highly dependent on your desire to speak to us. The stronger you are, the weaker that barrier. The stronger we are, the stronger that barrier.”

“So these bonds can change, then? I can get stronger and eventually completely overpower you?” It was all starting to seem more real. Hell, Izuku was starting to believe it was, and if that was the case then there was no way he could deny this.

If this wasn’t a dream…

If he was really speaking to his quirk…

Shinō smirks. “I’d love to see you try.”

“Then let’s do it!” Izuku clenches his fists, determination growing deep within him. He hasn’t felt like this in a very long time. “Give me that second chance at life and bond with me!”

“Not so fast boy. I want you to understand something first.” Shinō takes a step in front of Izuku and his height becomes more evident at the shortened distance. He is definitely just under seven feet. “My name is not just for show. I am the KING of the dead. I am a necromancer. A god of the dark arts. Once you bond with me, these things will become you, especially as you get stronger and our bond gets tighter. The dead speak to me, boy. They speak to me and they will speak to you. You will see and feel the flames of hades, tortured souls and raging demons. Midoriya Izuku, you will not come back from this. This power is strong, and so are its consequences.”

“I’m dead.” Izuku reminds him. “I have no reason to go back to my sad life if it’s just going to be the same. If you’re going to send me back, I’m going back with a quirk others can see; not just a voice in my head that I can talk to when I get upset. I’ll take the risk.”

Shinō studies him for a moment before cracking the first smile Izuku has seen from him since he arrived. It’s creepy, to say the least; like a man smiling down at his prey right before he feasts. The necromancer stretches out his tattooed right arm and extends his hand, smile widening as he waits for Izuku to take it. “Then we have a bond.”

Izuku reaches out with the typical opposite hand, and Shinō flicks his wrist in the direction of Izuku’s left arm, signaling for the boy to switch them. Izuku does so, and hesitates just before their fingers touch. “You said spirits were against working under humans, yet you seem eager to bond. What exactly do you get out of this?”

Shinō shrugs, flexing his muscles in anticipation of a sealed deal. “One hell of a show.”

Izuku narrows his eyes, willing himself to notice any sort of malice or ill intent in the spirit. When he’s sure he can notice nothing out of the ordinary, He takes the final step and grabs onto Shinō’s hand with such an awkward angle. Within an instant, the grips tightens and a gust of wind begins to circle around them. Izuku watches in awe as the markings on the man’s arm and chest begin to emanate a black smoke with a glowing golden hue. The smoke begins to creep forward, wrapping around his own hand and slowly trailing upwards. Izuku doesn’t know how to react when he notices a mirror of the spirit’s markings printing themselves on his own arm in a trail behind the smoky ring. The smoke reaches his chest before it completely dissipates, and before he could rationalize what just happened, Izuku finds that he now had the exact same markings as Shinō on his left arm and chest. The only difference was that he was giving off a bright green hue within the discharging smoke.

Izuku pulls his arm away, studying it with reverence.

“A symbol of our bondage.” Shinō explains. “It appears we are centered. Good.”

“How do you know?” Izuku asks, not taking his eyes from his markings.

“If it were separated, you would’ve been kicked from this place immediately. You’d have been too weak to stay in my presence. If it were full, I would feel a sense of power emanate from you, one that overwhelms me. The fact that you are here and I am unfazed means we are too balanced.”

“How often do people switch from one stage to another?”

“Not often. It’s hard for humans to overpower their spirits. If there were thousands of you, only one would be able to do it. If even that.”

Izuku finally looks back at Shinō from his arm. “We’ll see.”

Shinō lets out a short laugh. It sounds like a demon’s laugh, deep and scratchy. “We will.”

Izuku takes a moment to let the quiet settle before opening his mouth to speak again. “Now what? Do you send me back?”

Shinō tilts his head. “You’ve got a handful of questions dancing around in that small brain of yours, and you don’t intend to ask any of them?”

Oh right, he knows what Izuku is thinking. “I- uh, I didn’t think you’d want to answer them.”

“Once you leave here, it will be a while before you can speak to me again; and when we do, it won’t be for long.” Shinō reminds him.

“Okay then, yes. I have many questions-” Izuku begins to organize the jumbled thoughts in his head.

Shinō looks at him, an addled expression on his face. The man himself can’t work out any of the thoughts he can see. How Izuku manages to think with such an unorganized brain was beyond him.

As Izuku gets himself together, he can’t help but to feel a sense of excitement and joy in his heart. Things were beginning to change. He’s no longer going to be the helpless little ‘Deku’ everyone always saw. Every person that had ever doubted and hurt him will come face to face with a new and improved version of him. He could already hear them begging for his forgiveness and rethinking all that they thought they knew.

‘I thought he was powerless’ they’ll say.

‘He’s so strong’ they’ll praise.

‘We were being stupid.’ they’ll apologize.

Will he forgive them? Maybe. Izuku has never been the type to hold grudges, but as of recently he’d just tried to jump off of a building. He’s now seen the lowest of lows. He’s now felt pain so harsh that happiness feels unfamiliar.

So may the world forgive him if he doesn’t come out of this the same man.

But may the world be grateful if he doesn’t come out of this a vengeful one.