Chapter Text
Izuku’s body ached with protest, old wounds throbbing like new, and muscles straining with exhaustion, but he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Every second he wasted was time he could spend improving. Time he could spend catching up to his classmates, because he knew, he knew that he was already so far behind. Too far.
His eyes drooped, but a quick splash of cold water from his bottle woke him right back up. He was tired, but once his head hit the pillow, his eyes would never close. That had been the routine for the past week. Weeks? Months? It didn’t matter. He still wasn’t doing enough. The sun hadn’t risen. He wasn’t going to get any more sleep anyway. Izuku didn’t bother checking his phone for the time. He already knew he didn’t have time to waste.
Izuku picked up the battle ropes, making sure they were the heaviest he could handle– Izuku didn’t bother checking how much heavier they got, though if he had he would realize he was almost at the limit– and got back to work. Sweat soaked through his T-shirt, and finally he dropped the ropes with a dull thud that echoed far longer than it should have through his head. Sucking in air, Izuku grabbed his water bottle and poured the contents into his mouth greedily. But only a few drops came out.
Unfortunately, he had wasted the last of his water on his cooldown before. He would have had more water, but he’d forgotten to fill it before he started working. Stupid mistakes. Ridiculous, stupid mistakes he couldn't afford to make. Wasting his water, wasting time, wasting space.
If he’d just remembered then maybe he wouldn’t feel like passing out now. Maybe if he’d been less weak, he wouldn’t feel this way after such a simple workout.
Izuku grit his teeth and ignored the way his vision spun as he stalked over to the punching bag.
He’d seen his classmates do this kind of routine before. They never looked as bad as he did.
Izuku pulled the kumpur tight around his knuckles with his teeth and took the proper stance. It wasn't good enough. If he could get his head to stop spinning, his legs wouldn’t be so wobbly, but he couldn't even manage that.
Like Kirishima, effortlessly using every machine in the training gym and still having the energy to spar with Kacchan. Kacchan.
Izuku punched the sand-filled bag hard.
If Kacchan were here he’d have no trouble. If Kacchan had been in his position, no one would have gotten hurt. If he was just more like Kacchan–
Izuku hit the bag relentlessly, and he couldn’t hear anything but his own thoughts over the ringing in his ears.
If he were more like a hero–
He hit the bag. Again and again and again and again and again.
Like All Might wanted– deserved–
Izuku couldn’t breathe as his fists plunged into the bag relentlessly.
Then no one would have gotten hurt and Kacchan wouldn’t have been taken and if he had just been faster, taken down Muscular sooner, stopped them. If he hadn’t wasted time, wasted energy, wasted space like the useless Deku he was. If, if, if, IF, IF–
The bag burst under his next strike and Izuku gasped for air. He wasn’t sure if he’d been breathing for a while now.
But he'd gone and ruined something else. He would have to tell Aizawa-sensei and he'd have to pay for it. His mom would try to help, but money was tight, he couldn't do that to her. Izuku huffed and spun the rapidly deflating bag around to its undamaged side.
He regrouped himself and threw another punch, but his arms felt like rubber, burning and flimsy and weak. Izuku grit his teeth and hit again. Harder. Faster. He wouldn't stop until he was better and he wasn't getting better. The training camp made that fact abundantly clear. The licensing exam was just around the corner and he couldn't fail All Might by missing that chance. He couldn't waste their time. He couldn't be a waste of space. He couldn't- breathe.
He couldn't breathe and that's why it took him so long to realize that alarms were blaring. His weak, dizzy mind had the passing concern that it was because of the broken punching bag. The portal opening behind him– dark and smokey and swirling and big and terrifying– quickly proved that theory wrong. Izuku couldn't breathe and staring into the purple smoke in front of him felt like a vice grip around his throat. Especially as Shigaraki stepped out.
Izuku forced his limbs to stop trembling. He forced the air sharply into his lungs and forced his stupid, weak legs to work.
He would not fail again.
"Isn't that sad?" Shigaraki hissed, red eyes flashing and sending an involuntary shiver– stupid, stupid, weak, deku– down Izuku’s spine.
"Don't bother fighting, ninth." Shigaraki grinned at the surprise on Izuku's face because he shouldn't have known that, he couldn't know the secret, "Master has plans for you."
"You aren't getting away Shigaraki!" Izuku cried, his voice shaking from fear, or exhaustion, he wasn't sure which.
"You must not understand, little hero." Shigaraki’s grin somehow widened further, "You're coming with me."
Izuku had never fallen through one of Kurogiri’s portals before. He had dreamt of it plenty. Imagining how it would feel had he been the one taken. He had imagined it suffocating him like the sludge monster– another thing that was his fault, it should have suffocated him, it should have been him– or maybe it would feel like he was being sucked through a vacuum. He'd imagined it tearing apart his atoms and reassembling them on the other side– that was one of the worst versions he'd come up with.
In reality, it was as easy as walking through a cloud. It was strangely welcoming. Warm and soft like fluffy cotton candy. The disorienting part was the cold concrete he landed on.
Izuku’s breath was knocked out of his chest, but he didn't pause to recover. He whirled around, throwing himself at whoever was closest. His fist flew through empty air and Izuku stumbled forward, legs tangled and he still couldn't breathe. Someone was grabbing his arms and Izuku was pulled backwards into a hard wooden chair. He struggled against their grasps but his muscles were weak and he was so tired.
There was nothing he could do as they bound his wrists to the chair arms.
No, Izuku wanted to scream. He couldn't let this happen. They would find out about One for All and they would hurt his mom, his friends, everyone all because he was too weak to fight back. This couldn't happen. No. No no no no no no NO.
"Please don't struggle. We don't want you getting hurt,” someone said. Kurogiri, Izuku recognized.
"Not like you can do much against the cuffs. We use these on the nomu, so don't bother." A low, smokey voice said. Izuku recognized it as Dabi’s. And someone was kneeling just beside him. His vision finally began to clear, the black at the edges fading out alongside his adrenaline.
Shigaraki stepped through the portal, a cruel grin splitting his face at the sight of Izuku tied to the chair. The purple mist swirled and faded away behind Shigaraki, and Kurogiri stepped back, seeming content to just observe while the other villains crowded around Izuku.
"I'm not scared of you." Izuku choked out around his panting gasps, and immediately regretted it. Shigaraki let out what could only be described as a cackle.
"Poor little hero. You're shaking with fear. We've only started the game. I promise you'll have much more reason to fear us soon."
Izuku was shaking with exhaustion. He barely registered the threat as he tried to work out where he was. Toga was kneeling at his side and Izuku could barely tear his eyes away from her sparkling fangs. Dabi stood behind her. Mr. Compress and the lizard man, Spinner, were standing to his right. They were towering over him. Leering down at him.
Shigaraki stood in front of him now and Izuku’s heart hammered in his chest, hard, deafening, painful.
It suffocated him. His own heartbeat was suffocating him. Like at the mall. Izuku had let him get away. He couldn't let it happen again, and yet he was frozen with fear.
Shigaraki ran four of his fingers over Izuku’s cheek, and Izuku pulled away, but the chair stopped him from escaping.
"The Doctor has plans for you." Shigaraki said, "You should prepare. Rest. Good night little hero."
The lights went out and the villains left Izuku alone in the room, alone in the suffocating darkness. Izuku pulled on the handcuffs and tried to activate Full Cowling, but the quirk was unresponsive. His arms felt flimsy and weak as he struggled against the bindings.
His breaths came out in short, gasping sobs, and he was so pathetic. He couldn't do anything because he was as good as quirkless now. Useless, quirkless, Deku. How could he be a hero if he couldn't even save himself? His head spun and he knew he should try to plan or escape or do something, but he was too busy falling asleep. Sleep.
He hadn't really slept for a long time.