Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hitoshi is dead.

Hitoshi is dead.

Hitoshi is dead.

The tears have come and gone multiple times, but he felt them welling up again.

He stared at the gravestone, and the gravestone stared back, mocking him.

Here lies Hitoshi Shinsou
Adored son, brother, and treasured friend
Dedicated to making the lives around him better
1 July 2xxx – 23 December 2xxx

The flowers he brought, a small bouquet of purple hyacinths and purple and black roses, hung limply in his hand.

He hadn’t been able to do anything to help.

He had seen Hitoshi spiraling down his self-destructive path.

And he’d done nothing.

He clenched his hands into fists, the thorns tearing into his palm as the stems snapped under the pressure.

Dimly, he registered the pain in his hand, but it was nothing compared to the agony in his head and in his heart.

With a gasping sob, he fell to his knees in front of the gray slab, free hand clutching his chest. He dropped the flowers and stared at the blood dripping from the puncture wounds in his hand.

It was a welcoming pain.

No one had done anything to help Kaminari, not really.

No one had been able to help Hitoshi, either.

Not even himself.

Everyone knew that something was wrong. From the very beginning, when Kaminari killed-

He stopped that train of thought abruptly. The familiar name rested on the tip of his tongue. He parted his lips, half-expecting the name to pour out like water.

Instead, all that came out was a meager “Ka…”.

He sniffled, head bowed and flowers strewn around his knees. It was all just so painful.

No one had been able to stop the inevitable.

So many deaths. Even more lives ruined.

His jaw clenched, mouth twisting into a scowl.

The heroes had done nothing.

Heroes were supposed to save lives, yet no one’s lives had been saved.

They had to pay.

For Hitoshi.

For Kirishima,

For Sero.

For Kaminari.

And for Kacchan.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Denki Kaminari was dead.

Or, he was close enough to it.

Izuku Midoriya watched his former classmate from the other side of the one-way mirror.

It pained him to see Kaminari as broken as this.

The once-cheerful blond had been reduced to a dull husk, occasionally babbling nonsense to himself.

Izuku felt his blood boil at the knowledge that no one had helped him, had even noticed something was wrong until it was too late to save him.

And Hitoshi…

His vision tinted red as he dug his nails into his palms.

Kaminari had murdered him, just like he’d murdered Kacchan.

Izuku felt anger unlike any he’d felt before. Is this how Kacchan always felt? he idly wondered. Even now, he could visualize the blond’s spiky hair, his red eyes that seemed to glow in the right light, making him look borderline demonic.

Izuku had admired him all their lives.

And now he was gone.

His oldest friend.

That had been the lynchpin that had started this whole shitshow.

That damn Quirk accident.

He could almost hear Kacchan’s raspy growl in his ear.

Izuku felt the anger flow through him again, even more intensely this time.

He had to get justice for Kacchan. To make sure his death wasn’t ignored.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izuku was nothing, if not thorough.

By the end of the day, he’d compiled a list of people who had failed Kaminari and his Hitoshi. A list of people who he intended to make suffer.

Izuku had seen the myriad of welts and bruises that dotted Hitoshi’s pale skin, before he was expelled. The marks of his increasingly-reckless vigilantism.

It hurt that he had pushed him away, when all Izuku wanted to do was hold him and comfort him.

But at least Izuku had tried.

No one else had been there for him.

People ranging from Aizawa – who had known that something was wrong, but did nothing about it – to the head of the Hero Public Safety Commission – who had swept the last seven months under the rug for fear of “bad publicity”.

A small voice in Izuku’s head whispered that Aizawa was hurting too, but he ignored it.

Aizawa was just as much to blame as anyone else. More so, even. He’d known about Kaminari’s declining mental state, and he’d seen Hitoshi spiraling in the months after.

Izuku made up his mind.

Aizawa would be first.

Once every offending party was snuffed out, only then would he allow himself to rest.

To join Hitoshi on the other side.

Wait for me, ‘Toshi? Just a little longer.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The window was easy to get past, and Izuku allowed a disdainful sneer to cross his face. Pro Hero Eraserhead lived here?

The apartment was barren, dust and grime coating every surface. A foul smell radiated from the direction of the kitchen.

Soundlessly, Izuku tiptoed towards the back of the apartment. He’d visited Hitoshi once or twice before, so he knew the layout – and had sketched out a map in preparation.

The air was eerily still, a stark comparison to how it’d been the last time he was here.

He briefly saw warm light, bright smiles, and tired eyes. Yamada’s humming drifted from the kitchen, and the scent of coffee lingered in the air.

They’d been so happy.

Before.

The vision faded, along with the happiness, leaving him vengeful and angry.

Hitoshi’s room was deserted, and Izuku was hit with a pang of regret at the sight, but he pushed it away.

He steeled himself and peeked into the master bedroom.

Also untouched.

The room at the end of the hall, Eri’s room, was the only one left.

Inside, through the cracked door, Izuku saw a sight that made his lip curl.

Aizawa was sitting with his back against Eri’s bed. He was scrawny and his face was passive, and Izuku noted that his eyes were dull and rimmed with red. His hair was matted and greasy, beard mangled and speckled with gray. Clutched in his trembling hands, he squeezed a plush unicorn, white with a lavender mane.

Izuku remembered that stuffed animal. He’d gone with Hitoshi to buy it for his new sister. They’d specially altered it to make the horn more like Eri’s – off to the side and curled slightly.

She’d loved that unicorn. Not because of the horn that was so similar to her own.

But because the mane was the same color as Hitoshi’s hair.

She’d called it Hito, after her new big brother.

Now, Aizawa was staring blankly as his fingers dug into the soft fabric.

This man was such a far cry from the Aizawa he knew, Izuku could hardly believe it was the same man.

Gritting his teeth, Izuku pushed open the door.

Aizawa didn’t move, and Izuku considered the fact that he hadn’t even registered his presence.

The teenager walked forward until he was right in front of his old teacher. He leaned down, observing the man in front of him.

Neither of them moved for a while.

Finally, Izuku grabbed a fistful of black hair and wrenched it back until Aizawa was looking up at him. He grunted involuntarily, but he didn’t retaliate.

“So pathetic,” Izuku murmured. Black eyes blinked at him, and Izuku wondered if Aizawa was too out of it to even notice him.

His free hand unsheathed his steel blade and brought it up to Aizawa’s face, the tapered tip resting against his former teacher’s cheek. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,” he hissed, not really expecting an answer.

But he got one: “Do it.”

Izuku blinked. Aizawa’s voice sounded like he’d been eating glass, and it grated on Izuku’s ears. He blinked sluggishly up at the teenager, all the fight and defiance he used to exude nowhere to be seen.

He snorted and readjusted his grip on the knife. “Not so fast.”

Without another word, Izuku set to work in making Aizawa suffer, beginning by targeting the former Pro Hero’s eyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After Izuku carefully positioned his new calling card so that it wouldn’t fall out of its placement, he stood back and admired his work.

Blood spattered the formerly cheerful bedroom, even reaching up to the ceiling. In the middle of the floor, the carpet was drenched red. A coppery tang filled the air, but Izuku relished in it.

It meant his job was one step closer to being done.

Resting in the child’s bed was most of Aizawa’s body. His shirt was gone, kanji carved into his emaciated chest, reading, ‘過失’.            

Negligence.

But the part in which Izuku took the most pride rested in the middle of the gory puddle.

His teacher’s decapitated head was propped upright so that his empty eye sockets would stare down whoever opened the bedroom door. Resting between his teeth, arranged so that it wouldn’t fall out, was an orange lily.

Izuku wasn’t an expert in hanakotoba, but he was confident in the symbolism here.

Hatred. Revenge.

It was fitting.

Aizawa had failed Kaminari when he couldn’t help him.

Aizawa had failed Hitoshi when he wouldn’t stop his self-destructive path.

And Aizawa had failed himself by allowing the people closest to him to suffer.

Justice had finally been served.

So Izuku checked his name off of his list while he left as quietly as he arrived.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Endeavor grunted as he tossed the newspaper onto his desk. The front page glared up at him.

NEW SERIAL KILLER?

As of January 7th, the third victim of the newly-titled Lily Executioner has been discovered. Analysts are working hard to pinpoint if the Executioner is following a pattern or is simply slaughtering for fun. His victims – Shouta Aizawa, Yumiko Ide, and most recently Kaori Masi – do not seem to be connected in any way. In his most recent public appearance, Pro Hero Endeavor declared that the Executioner was in his crosshairs!

“It is shameful that those so-called ‘professional analysts’ have yet to determine a pattern. Every villain has a pattern, and it shouldn’t be so difficult to find this one.”

Inwardly, Shoto sighed. I’m sure they’re closer to figuring out the pattern than you are. Outwardly, though, he nodded.

He intended to get through this meeting as quickly and painlessly as possible.

“Which is why you are going to find the Executioner and bring him in!”

Shoto jolted in his seat at those words. “You can’t be serious! No one even knows where to start. He always covers his bases and leaves no trace of himself.”

Endeavor glared. “Are you running from your true potential, Shoto?”

The teenager pursed his lips together and turned slightly away from Endeavor.

“Just think about it! This will be a great jump-start to your career! Imagine being the person to bring in the newest serial killer before you even graduate high school!”

“I only have a provisional license,” he argued, wracking his brain for a way out of this conversation.

To his annoyance and frustration, Endeavor simply waved a hand. “That is no concern of yours, Shoto. It’s child’s play to work around.”

Shoto clenched his jaw. His old man might be a bastard, but he was a clever bastard. “And if I won’t?”

Endeavor pursed his lips into a thin line. “I’ve worked hard to provide for you and the rest of our family. Natsuo, Fuyumi, and your mother would all be very disappointed if you didn’t pursue your true potential.”

Shoto narrowed his eyes at the thinly-veiled threat. He’d thought the number one Pro to be above bullying, but apparently he shouldn’t underestimate the slimy son of a bitch.

Setting his jaw, Shoto nodded tersely and accepted the job.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izuku was feeling good.

He was working his way through his list efficiently and with little trouble.

They all had to die.

For Hitoshi.

Izuku had just finished with his fourth victim: Tenya Iida.

Back when they were friends, Izuku had looked up to Iida. He took charge and was able to lead the class better than anyone else.

But he had ultimately failed as well.

When he had found out about Hitoshi’s vigilantism, Iida had reported everything. Hitoshi had gotten expelled, only pushing him farther into the darkness.

Izuku grew to resent Iida for living by the rules, ignoring how one of his classmates had been hurting and ultimately deciding to report it instead of helping.

So, Izuku had enacted his revenge, all in the name of justice for Hitoshi.

Iida had met his fate, bleeding out in an alley similar to where they fought Hero Killer Stain. Izuku had thought it somewhat poetic.

Positioned in a mock running pose, Iida’s body still pooled blood from the stab wounds. His crinkled and torn mufflers were sticking out of random places on his arms and torso. Of his legs, however, Izuku took special care.

Using his mini-executioner’s blade, Izuku had meticulously written out kanji on each of his former friend’s thighs: '偽君子'. '不十分'.

Hypocrite. Inadequate.

Izuku turned his nose up at Iida. He thought he was so high and mighty just because he followed every rule to the letter. Even at the expense of his own friends.

Izuku turned to leave, walking past the disembodied head – propped up, eye sockets empty, and mouth spilling orange lilies – before a shout stopped him in his tracks.

“Do you really feel nothing when you murder innocent people?!”

The teenager froze.

He knew that voice.

He slowly turned around, trusting his hood and black mask to hide his identity.

Ochako Uraraka approached him, giving Iida’s body a wide berth. She cringed visibly, and Izuku felt his lip curl at her weak constitution.

“I don’t feel nothing,” he said calmly, answering her question. “I feel like justice has been served.”

“Justice for what?” she countered.

Instead of replying, Izuku lunged towards her, bolstered by One For All. Green lightning crackled across his form as he closed the distance, blade outstretched.

But she was fast, faster than he had anticipated. Uraraka swept one foot back in a method Izuku recognized.

Gunhead Martial Arts.

Her next move will be to grab his wrist.

Behind his mask, Izuku grinned. He angled the blade towards her outstretched hand.

She couldn’t stop quickly enough.

Uraraka cried out as the blade plunged into her palm.

Wrenching the knife ruthlessly, Izuku grabbed her forearm and pulled her over his shoulder, slamming her down on the ground.

Uraraka lay on the ground, mouth agape as she tried to catch her breath.

Before she could, however, Izuku had leapt on top of her, eyes wide and manic. He slammed her head against the concrete, and her body stiffened before going limp, a reedy moan escaping from her lips.

Izuku grasped her hand and laid it flat against the ground, tightening his hold on his knife.

Methodically, he cut off her fingers, tiny groans telling him that she was coming around.

Not that it mattered. She was useless now.

He was just setting the digits aside, when she finally spoke again: “Why?”

Izuku turned back and leveled a blank look at her. “No one is innocent.”

“Is that what you are? A Stain copycat?” Her voice was getting stronger now.

Izuku chuckled, low and dark as he climbed up over her torso. He brandished his knife again and, angling Uraraka’s head, began to cut into her cheek.

She whimpered, lucid enough to feel the pain, but too out of it to do more than twitch weakly.

“Who… are you?”

Izuku looked up into her eyes, finished with the kanji symbol '障害'.

He saw her eyes searching his, trying to unmask him with her gaze. Her breaths were becoming more and more shallow. The blood from her head injury was spreading, mingling with Iida’s still-fresh blood.

He chuckled again, basking in Uraraka’s resulting wince.

Deciding to humor her, he reached up and pulled the mask off of his face.

Her eyes flew wide open as she registered his features. “D-Deku?!”

“Not anymore,” he muttered darkly. “The only person who could call me that died seven months ago. Not that anyone cared.”

His left hand shot out and grasped a chunk of Uraraka’s bangs, pulling her head up slightly. She cried out in pain, but it fell on deaf ears.

Izuku leaned down until his face was only centimeters away. He hissed, “I am the Executioner,” before bringing his blade to her throat.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When police arrived on the scene, accompanied by Shoto, they found a gruesome sight.

Tenya Iida’s head had fallen over to the side, but his empty eye sockets bored into Shoto’s soul. His jaw was propped open, the orange lily inside bright against his pallid skin.

Suspended in the air above Iida’s body hung a second victim. Ochako Uraraka’s headless body had been strung up by her ankles, leaving her blood to drain over Iida.

Worst of all was Uraraka’s head.

It was propped up in Iida’s arms, nearly drowned in the blood still dripping from her body and mouth stitched up in a sickening grin. Cut into her cheeks, Shoto could read the kanji for ‘hindrance’.

An orange lily had been stuck in each of her eye sockets.

It was horrific, and Shoto felt his insides roil as a few officers vomited.

His friend's face grinned up at him, and he nearly lost his nerve. This sick son of a bitch… Does he have no conscience at all? 

The lilies stared at him. 

He stared back. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Shoto slammed his fist against the table as he stared at the police report. “This isn’t following his pattern! Why would he choose a second victim?”

Tsu hummed thoughtfully as she read the report over again. “What if he didn’t plan on killing Ochako?” Her voice caught on the name of one of her dearest friends, but she held herself together.

That got Shoto’s attention. His head whipped up at her words, not quite understanding.

“He called her a distraction. A ‘hindrance’. What if she got in his way? And that’s why he killed her.”

“To make an example out of people who try to stop him?” Shoto’s gut sank in realization.

Tsu nodded, croaking, “I think that’s what happened. The coroner didn’t put Ochako’s death until a bit later than Iida’s, right?”

He nodded reluctantly.

“Then it would make sense that she tried to stop him, ribbit,” she whispered, eyes watering again.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and groaned. “This is very bad,” he muttered, almost to himself. As he lowered his hands, he fixed Tsu with a stare. “This bastard has now, not only targeted our teacher, but our friends.”

Tsu nodded, curling her hands into fists.

“Now it’s personal.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been Tsu's idea to follow the trail of flowers. By her logic, the Executioner had to be getting them from somewhere. 

If they found that, they had a lead. 

While the first flower shop had been a bust, Mr. Yakimera was all too eager to talk about his recent break-in. 

"I tried reporting it, but flower theft isn't really high on anyone's priority list, y'know?" 

Shoto inwardly sighed. "We're listening now."

The short man grinned at that, revealing his forked tongue. He retracted it, looking sheepish. "Anyway, I came to work about a month, month and a half ago, and found that the front door had been smashed and all my orange lilies were gone. Only them. The guy didn't even try to open the register or the safe! That's why my insurance claim didn't go through," he muttered the last sentence, clearly still upset about the incident. 

"Do you have any security footage of the night in question?"

Mr. Yakimera nodded and reached under the counter. "Although you probably won't get anything. I've watched it so many times, but there's no clue to who it is."

Shoto eyed the tape skeptically. "Can you play it here?" 

A few minutes later, they were sitting in front of an old screen, watching the silent footage. At 2:37 am, the glass of the front door seemed to explode inwards. 

Shoto watched, transfixed as shards of glass flew everywhere. Suddenly, a figure flew in, heading straight for the lilies. 

Before he could think, Shoto had paused the video. He leaned in close to the still image of a person until his nose almost touched the screen. 

He could just barely make out lightning covering the figure's body. 

Smashed glass. 

Super speed. 

Lightning. 

The puzzle pieces slid together with an almost audible click! and Shoto felt himself grow nauseous. 

His heart ached in his chest. 

He didn't want to believe his gut instinct. He didn't.

But he couldn't stop himself. 

He knew he was looking at the image of Izuku Midoriya. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tsuyu couldn't believe it either. 

Sweet Midoriya… turned villain? 

It didn't make sense. 

But, at the same time, it made perfect sense. 

She'd seen the video of the theft and couldn't think of any other explanation. 

She'd seen how much that realization had affected Todoroki, how he'd stumbled back to their brainstorming room in the station, how he was borderline unresponsive. 

Even now, he stared blankly into space. 

Tsu refused to believe that Midoriya was the Lily Executioner. 

They were friends. And she was confident that her Midoriya would never do something like this. 

She set a steaming cup of coffee and a note in front of Todoroki. 

He'd see it when he came around. 

Hopefully, it would all be over by then, and she could put his fears to rest.

She left the room, but not before she caught a glimpse of tears glimmering in Todoroki's cloudy gaze. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Someone was following him. 

Whoever it was, they weren't very good at it. Izuku had been able to hear the quiet footsteps easily in the silence of the early morning. 

And then there was a strange, wet sound. 

Izuku was wearing his dark hoodie, but didn't have his mask on, so he knew that whoever was following him would be able to identify him. 

So he concentrated on acting as nonchalant as possible. 

He had his hands in his pockets, strolling down the street. Not a care in the world, he thought, even though that couldn't be further from the truth.

Ducking his head, Izuku slipped into an alleyway. He hid behind a dumpster as he heard the footsteps grow slightly faster.

Finally, they stopped, right in the entrance to the alley. Izuku peeked out and caught a glimpse of… nothing?

Squinting, Izuku faintly made out a dim outline. Ahh, Asui's gotten better with her camouflage. He would have felt a surge of admiration if it wasn't overshadowed by his anxiety. 

So she's been put on the case.

Reaching into his pocket, Izuku grasped the edge of his mask. 

She didn't do anything to help, either. 

She's as much to blame as any of them. 

Izuku felt his mouth twist into a cruel smile as he slipped the mask on. 

She has to pay too.

Calling upon One For All, Izuku leaped into the air. He felt more than saw Asui's shock, but she recovered quickly. 

Her tongue shot out and wrapped around him in midair. 

But Izuku had anticipated that. 

His peers really needed to be less predictable.

A flash of the blade and a pained cry passed in a blink, and Izuku found himself falling.

He landed on his feet, ankles protesting, but immediately stood and looked up. 

Asui had finally dropped her camouflage, so he could see how she was hunched over, mouth open, blood flowing from between her lips. 

Impassively, Izuku detangled himself from Asui's severed tongue. He held the muscle in one hand, considering it before looking up at her. 

She blinked teary eyes at him as she tried crouching into a fighting position, but she was at a heavy disadvantage. 

And they both knew it. 

Without a word, Izuku launched himself at her, still holding her tongue. He whipped it around and slapped her with it. 

Disoriented, she didn't realize he was right in front of her until it was too late. 

He wrapped her tongue around her throat and began squeezing it, strengthening his grip with One For All. 

Her hands clawed at her throat, trying fruitlessly to rip her tongue away. Her face turned a pale blue, then purple.

But still, Izuku squeezed. 

Before he could duck away, her trembling fingers reached towards his face and pulled off his mask. 

Her eyes widened as she took in his cold eyes, his scowl, and Izuku relished in the vague expression of despair that crossed her face before she lost consciousness. 

Still, Izuku squeezed. 

He wasn't sure how long he pulled her tongue tight over her neck, but there was no pulse when he pulled away.

A voice in the back of his head whispered that she didn't have to die. That she had been one of his closest friends. 

That whisper was overshadowed by a voice that sounded suspiciously like Kacchan's: "She was just as much to blame as any of them. She followed the rules just as much as Iida. She was already corrupted by hero society, rotting from the inside out." 

He hadn't realized he was speaking out loud until he stopped.

Shaking his head to clear it, Izuku set to work making a crime scene. 

Maybe he should wrap her body up with a little bow, just for the police.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izuku Midoriya. 

The teenager had always been the source of strong emotions for Shoto. 

With his compassion in hearing about his past, his almost-excitement to lose to Shoto, his willingness to include him…

Shoto hadn't been able to help himself, fond feelings arising whenever he saw Midoriya. 

He had admired the boy who seemingly had a death wish, ruining himself at every turn for the good of those around him. 

He had hoped he could grow to be someone like Midoriya. 

But now… 

The tears finally came and he doubled over, body trembling as sobs wracked his frame.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, feeling more sorrow and grief than he'd felt in nearly ten years. 

He drowned in it. 

When he finally resurfaced, the first thing Shoto noticed was a cup of coffee in front of him, next to a note. 

Bringing Midoriya in for questioning. Be back soon. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone.

It wasn't signed, but Shoto recognized Tsu's handwriting. It took a moment for the meaning to sink in, but when it did, icy claws of dread sank into his heart. 

Cautiously, Shoto reached towards the coffee. 

It was frigid, left there a long time ago. 

Shoto ran. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He… 

He had…. 

Fuck. 

He had fucking gift-wrapped Tsu with her own tongue. 

Shoto fell to his hands and knees, a short ways from his friend's desecrated body. His body trembled as he vomited the meager contents of his stomach.

Tsu's body had been folded forwards almost completely in half, with her tongue wrapped around the back of her knees and tied into a bow on her back. 

Her head… 

Was nowhere to be found. 

Shoto coughed and retched again. He moaned, high and weak.

Izuku…

Was he even beyond being saved? 

No. 

Shoto couldn't believe that. He knew his friend, and he had to do his best to reach him. 

Strengthened by his resolve, Shoto climbed to his feet. After reporting Tsu's body - and giving a moment of silence for his friend - he set to work tracking Izuku down. 

Maybe… just maybe… he'd be able to talk some sense into him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Shoto hadn't slept well in weeks, but he was single-minded in his pursuit. 

Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his friends, eyes gouged out and put on display in grotesque positions. Flashes of green teased his peripheral vision, and Shoto was sure he was imagining the light giggles he was hearing. 

He shook his head to clear it and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, he was staring straight into fluffy, green curls and a cold, emerald gaze. 

Shoto’s lips barely moved, the whispered ‘Izuku’ more breath than voice.

"Hello, Shoto," Izuku's voice was harder than he'd ever heard it before, his eyes more piercing. "Come to take me in, have you?" 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Shoto shook his head. "I just wanna talk, that's all."

The other teenager laughed, mocking and bitter. "That's all every hero wants to do. But they don't save people when they truly need saving, do they?" 

"I want to save you." 

"Save your breath." Izuku's hand shot out and grasped Shoto's collar. He pulled him down until their faces, their lips, were mere centimeters apart. He whispered, "You can't save me. You can't even save yourself." 

An icy chill ran down Shoto's spine at the words. He wrenched himself free and staggered back a few steps. He stared as Izuku bared his teeth in a sharp grin and crouched into a fighting position.

Frost formed over his right hand as he tried to encase his former friend in ice, but Izuku leaped out of the way. 

He ran towards Shoto, hands outstretched and fingers curled like claws. At the last minute, he feinted to the side, out of Shoto's line of sight. 

Shoto whirled around, hand already aflame, but was abruptly hit in the chest with a basketball. 

A wet… hairy… basketball.

Shoto felt his body and mind freeze as he held Tsu's decapitated head in his hands, her eye sockets staring at him and her hair smoldering from his fire. 

Her head fell from his grasp and hit the ground, but Shoto couldn't move. He stared at his empty hands, trembling from the shock and smeared with blood. 

His brain stuttered. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shoto caught a glimpse of Izuku. 

Fight now. Freak out later. 

Without warning, Shoto spun into a roundhouse kick, slamming his foot against the side of Izuku's head.

The other teenager gave a small cry before falling to the ground. He groaned, hands weakly moving to his head. 

Shoto's breath caught in his throat as tear-filled green eyes peered up at him. 

"Sho… to…? What… happened?"

Shoto felt a sob climb up his throat. He fell to his knees and pulled Izuku into a hug, cradling his head next to his own. 

"Shhh, shhh," he soothed, fingers gently carding through green curls. "It's okay. It was just a bad dream. I promise."

Izuku drew back a bit, enough to meet Shoto’s gaze. “What happened?” His voice was stronger, tears shimmering in his eyes.

Shoto felt his own tears begin to fall down his cheeks. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Sho, I lo-,” Izuku sniffled, cutting himself off. “Please help me,” he whimpered before leaning forward and crashing their lips together.

Shoto’s eyes flew wide open before fluttering closed and leaning into the kiss. His arms tightened around Izuku and he could feel his trembling form press even closer, and, for a single moment, it was all fine. 

A sharp pain erupted in the back of Shoto’s neck, and he screamed as his body seized uncontrollably. 

When he opened his eyes, Izuku had pulled away and was glaring at him. "You're just as much to blame as any of them."

Another sharp pain, this time deep in his stomach.

Red erupted. 

Shoto fell to the side, no longer held upright by Izuku. 

He felt cold. 

Copper dribbled out from between his lips, but he choked out one word: "Now."

The next minutes were a blur. 

He knew that his team had heard his signal, because there was chaos all around him. 

His vision was rimmed with black, but he saw Izuku's legs, sparking green lightning as he prepared to run.

Without warning, Izuku jerked and staggered back. He sank to his knees, colored darts blooming from his arm, eyes clouding with confusion and sleep. 

He fell forward, face turned towards Shoto, less than a meter away. 

Their eyes met.

Shoto coughed weakly as he inhaled blood. 

It was so cold. 

So dark. 

His heart fluttered.

He lost the strength to keep his eyes open. 

The shadows were suffocating. 

They converged on him… 

…and Shoto drowned.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Inko Midoriya could divide her life into 'before' and 'after'. 

Before her son was exposed as the ruthless Lily Executioner and after. 

Before then, she was happy, if a bit lonely. She spent her days working, her free time with Mitsuki, and her nights spent alone. 

The days when Izuku visited were special days. 

She doted on him, made sure he had more than enough to eat, and peppered him with kisses and questions alike. 

He never turned down her hugs. 

He loved her katsudon. 

He was always smiling.

After the arrest, she isolated herself in her house, refusing even Mitsuki's company. 

She stopped going to work. 

She forgot to feed and bathe herself, caught up in her grief and worry for her son. 

She oftentimes found herself sitting on the kitchen floor, unsure of how she even got there.

Other times, she'd sit on the couch and stare at the dark TV screen for hours before she recognized the buzzing in her ears as her phone ringing repeatedly. 

Her weight rapidly fell away and, with it, her health. 

Sometimes it was so hard to remember. 

Inko occasionally found herself making katsudon, becoming confused and worried at dinnertime when Izuku wasn't in his room. 

He'd been here… just the other day… right? 

He wouldn't leave her… would he?

Sometimes she had a visitor… Katsuki, was it? 

Why didn't he bring Izuku with him? 

His hair was as spiky as ever and his eyes were still red, but he seemed softer… gentler with her. 

His voice was high, light and comforting.

She would ask him where her Izuku was, when he was coming home. 

Her face always darkened, tears filling her eyes. 

Her? Inko's vision wavered. 

What was happening? 

Everything was so confusing. 

It didn't really matter, though. 

Izuku would explain everything when he came home from school. 

Inko made katsudon, just for him. 

He never came. Inko wrung her hands, worrying. 

She couldn't smell the smoke. 

Her vision was getting cloudy, eyes stinging. 

She couldn't hear the fire alarms.

Inko Midoriya fell asleep, slumped over picture books with her smiling son. 

She couldn't feel the flames that engulfed the building. 

All from the botched katsudon she tried to make for her son who was never coming home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Toshinori Yagi stared as young Midoriya’s apartment complex was engulfed by flames.

With his mother still inside.

Toshinori was helpless. Again.

He hadn’t been able to save anyone.

Not young Bakugou.

Not young Kaminari.

Not any of their friends.

And now… not even young Midoriya or his mother.

He was a failure.

Some hero.

And now…

One For All was gone forever.

Toshinori knew that young Midoriya, even in his fragile state of mind, would never give up his Quirk.

The same Quirk that had killed so many of his students.

Young Midoriya’s friends.

Nana Shimura would be ashamed of him.

That broke Toshinori’s heart even more than it already was.

He… had nothing left.

It would be shameful any other way, but maybe now… Toshinori could pretend that he had died honorably.

Heedless to the warning cries of the onlookers, Toshinori Yagi ran headlong into the flames.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He hated this feeling.

He came to slowly, feeling his head pounding.

He tried to lift his hand to press against his temple, but it wouldn’t respond.

He wrenched his eyes open, squinting against the bright lights. His lips tightened against something cold.

“Ah! You’re finally awake!”

He’d recognize that booming voice anywhere.

“How are you feeling, Shoto?”

The teenager grimaced, but before he could answer, the door opened. In walked a short man with a bushy mustache. “Good afternoon. I was just going over your charts.”

Endeavor waved the doctor in. “He just woke up. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to hurry it up. I have a patrol in twenty minutes.”

Shoto mentally sighed. Some things never change.

The doctor approached Shoto’s bed and referred to his clipboard. “It appears that you have an acute spinal injury to your C4 vertebra. Now,” he was staring intensely at Shoto. “Blink once for yes and twice for no.”

Shoto blinked once.

“Are you in pain?”

One blink.

“Is it a headache?”

One blink.

“Scale of one to ten, how bad?”

Shoto thought for a moment before blinking eight times.

The doctor whistled. “That must be pretty painful.”

Shoto knew it was just an empty platitude.

“Any pain anywhere else?”

Shoto blinked twice.

The doctor was cut off by Endeavor, scowling. “I don’t have time to play these games. Get to the point.”

The short man turned and glared at Endeavor. “Your rank means nothing here. You’ll just have to wait.”

“Well at least speak plainly and tell me what’s wrong with him!”

The doctor threw his hands up in exasperation. He turned to Shoto again. “Can you feel your limbs, torso, etc.?”

Two blinks.

The man sighed. “We ran some blood work when you first arrived here, as well as extracted some spinal fluid. Both of those, plus your definitive answers can lead to a concrete diagnosis: complete quadriplegia.”

Shoto blinked at the name, but waited for the doctor to continue.

“In layman’s terms, the knife severed your spinal cord and left your limbs and torso paralyzed. You’ve also been in critical condition for the past six days. Due to how high up on your spine the sever was, you will have a lot to change in your daily life.”

Endeavor leaned forward, his frown deepening.

Shoto wasn’t convinced he was concerned for his wellbeing at all.

“For one, you will need to stay on the ventilator constantly due to your loss of control over your diaphragm. Another is that you will be wheelchair-bound until further notice.”

With each word that came out of the doctor’s mouth, Shoto’s dismay grew.

“And he’ll need a carer,” the doctor said, turning to Endeavor.

“I’ll do it myself,” the flame hero said. “I wouldn’t want my Shoto to receive sub-par treatment.”

“Oh! Speaking of ‘treatment’” - the doctor reached into his pocket and handed Endeavor a business card - “Off the record, I offer exclusive treatments that have been quite successful. Think about it, then give me a call.”

Endeavor peered at the card. “Ujiko, huh? I’m interested; what are you offering, in particular?”

Unseen by the two men, Shoto felt tears gather in his eyes and streak down his face.

No where to hide from Endeavor’s doting.

No way to become a hero.

No friends to make his life bearable any more.

Shoto looked down and watched his chest rise and fall mechanically, thanks to the tube down his throat.

No way to die.

Before, Shoto Todoroki would have called the trainings with his father ‘hell’.

But this was worse.

Because there was no way he could escape.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The guard walked down the hall towards the cell.

His shoulders were back, his gait strong and purposeful, but a grin stretched wide across his face.

He schooled himself back into a more neutral expression before the other guards noticed.

He flashed his badge, and the female guard nodded, stepping aside.

He knew that the holding cell was soundproof, but only because everyone did.

And he was grateful.

It was exactly what they needed.

He opened the door and caught a glimpse of Izuku Midoriya, sitting handcuffed to the table in front of him, with a Quirk Suppressing collar tight around his throat.

He closed the door behind him and did a cursory glance around the room for any cameras.

Seeing none, he walked around to the other side of the table and sat on it next to Midoriya, swinging his legs and watching the teenager.

The watching became a staring contest until the guard suddenly grinned.

“I knew he had his eye on you for a reason.”

Midoriya raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

The guard leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knees, his chin cupped in his palm. “You’re so much hotter now. And I loved all that blood in all of your crime scenes!” He scooted a bit closer. “How would you like to get out of here?” His voice was lowered into a conspiratorial whisper.

The teenager still said nothing, and the guard grinned wider as he saw cold, emerald eyes trying to take him apart piece by piece.

“Y’know, he was a big baby about you before, but now he’s really interested. Thinks you might be a valuable player in his party.” He chuckled. “I know you’ll be a super powerful asset.”

“Stop speaking in riddles,” Midoriya finally growled.

The guard giggled. “With your little stunt, you’ve gotten Tomura’s attention. And he’s willing to break you out of here if you join the League.”

A slow grin crossed Midoriya’s face until he looked feral. He leaned forward as far as he could, locking his gaze with Himiko’s.

“Tell me more.”