Chapter Text
Midoriya, my boy.
The dreams vary, but his voice remains unchanged. Even in the realm of sleep, All Might’s words echo in Izuku’s ears with the same gentle reassurance as on his last day. But no amount of softness can change the fact that Toshinori Yagi is gone and Izuku Midoriya is alone in a world he does not understand.
The memory of All Might’s final, knowing smile haunts his successor with more malevolence than an actual ghost.
Sometimes, Izuku’s dreams feel so real he thinks for a moment it is All Might’s vestige—some tangible, true piece of the man’s soul—and his eyes shine with tears of joy. But slowly, he realizes it is just a figment of his unconscious mind. Only a dream.
And then he wakes with wet cheeks and a broken heart.
The vestiges have not visited Izuku since All for One was defeated, so he knows he should no longer be surprised or disappointed by their absence. Still, he finds himself huddled close under the comforter, knees tucked to his chest and arm wrapped tightly around himself when he wakes up. He presses his face into the pillow, wishing it were his mentor’s broad chest.
This is a position he finds himself in often, chasing comfort in the lonely dark of his bed. The fleece of his blankets is a lame replication of affection, though, and he knows as much. Izuku has tried everything he can think of to recreate the warmth of All Might’s fatherly embrace—standing close in the corner of his shower as the hot water cascades over his back, swaddling himself in blankets like a newborn. He’s even allowed himself a few nights of mutual comfort with other broken souls.
But nothing ever feels the same.
When the sun streams in through his bedroom window, Izuku unravels himself, swiping his hand across his face to collect the tears and snot so he can face the breaking day. Life for a Hero in the reconstruction of Japan allows no rest, even for the weariest veterans.
Because in the aftermath of war, new battlefields have emerged.
Navigating those proverbial frontlines is something Izuku has had to learn on the fly. His entire career feels like a macabre improvisation; moving through the remnants of the world he thought he was defending only to find he’s lost in a place that looks nothing as he expected.
The fight for restoration, compensation, and accountability wages with equal vigor from public pulpits and family dining tables. When everyone has lost so much, the new mission becomes how to lay the blame at someone else’s feet. It is impossible to move forward without first seeking closure. A scapegoat or a villain—a target for grief and anger in the wake of loss.
Izuku Midoriya knows and understands this now, but it does not make the reckoning any easier. The burdens of the world are heavy, even when balanced on Deku’s muscular shoulders.
The death of All Might heralded the coming of a new age in a way even his retirement hadn’t. Without him, the doubts and insecurities the PLF had fed upon and exacerbated bubbled once more to the surface—the value and meaning of Hero society lays bare now for public consumption and comment.
You’re a Hero.
While some argue the new era should include the elimination of Pros altogether, others wonder loudly at the sanity of leaving cities and countries more vulnerable to attack from the sinister dregs, even as the world continues to bask in the shallow splendor of its victory.
One thing Izuku knows is that just because they’ve won the war does not mean his work is finished. Even now, scattered followers of Shigaraki and All for One linger in the shadows, wreaking havoc when they can and biding their time otherwise.
These factions, fractured though they may be, are convinced the fight is not over; that eventually a new leader will rise to power and carry them into the light. In the meantime, they continue to wage war against a society they believe has wronged them. Some are rightfully bitter—people with mutation quirks they have no control of are still often cast aside at a young age or tormented for the way they look. Those few still born without quirks often suffer a similar fate. Orphanages remain overrun with unwanted offspring whose only crime is coming into existence.
But many others extoll virtues more akin to Muscular’s; believing they should be allowed to murder and destroy as they wish without repercussion. These are the villains Deku relishes apprehending. Not because he enjoys the fight, but because he knows once they are locked away in the depths of Avernus, the world is demonstrably safer.
Izuku never anticipated spending so much of his young adulthood on a battlefield. His desire to be a Hero had always been true and pure. But as a young, naïve student at U.A., he expected to save people from more accidents and natural disasters than terrorist attacks. He thought he would spend as much time smiling reassuringly at victims as he would bleeding from his mouth in a life-or-death fight.
The only son of Inko Midoriya never meant to become a frontline warrior in a crusade for the future of humanity.
The road had been a thousand times more treacherous than anyone expected, punctuated by heavy losses and grim moral decisions. Izuku is not always proud of the things he’s done. He tries to remember All Might’s smile as they said their final goodbye; the one that told him it would all be okay in the end. The same generous grin a young Izuku had viewed on a continuous loop on his family’s computer screen.
When shame and regret creep icily up his nape, Izuku holds tight to the comfort in that expression; reassurance he did the right thing, even if it does not always feel that way.
But the world that welcomed Pro Hero Deku as the smoke cleared is so vastly different from the one All Might departed from. How could Toshinori have known Izuku’s actions were justified, if he had no idea what the newly formed terrain would look like?
The landscape of Japan—of the world—has been so altered that Izuku is often unsure of his place in it. All he can do is claw his way through the ruins in search of some meaningful expression of justice.
Heroes finally triumphed over the greatest and most widespread evil the world had ever known; a poison which had seeped into the soil of every continent over generations.
Discrimination. Social unrest. Lack of education. All left unchecked by society’s forebears as they buried their heads in the sand and drafted perfunctory quirk regulations as if that was the answer. Of course, such policies mostly lifted certain abilities on high while demonizing others, and only achieved further division; a quirk-based caste system Izuku himself had experienced before he met All Might.
If Izuku is honest, perhaps true reform would never have been possible without the destruction wrought by Shigaraki and the Paranormal Liberation Front. It’s a persistent, intrusive thought that never fails to send a shiver up his spine. A consideration that claws through the dark shadows of Izuku’s mind when he lets his guard down.
Because when has reform ever come without sacrifice? Has any society ever truly been born into a new age without shedding blood? Izuku thumbs his way through history books when sleep eludes him, but he finds no revolutions that were both peaceful and succeeded. Now the world has been broken open like an egg; the surge of quirks and their ever-increasing power as much an assurance of humanity’s evolution as it is an existential crisis.
Even if he disagrees with every word that ever fell from Shigaraki’s mouth, Izuku understands why people like Stain or Spinner or even Himiko Toga believe what they do. He knows that, but for his own ruthless obstinance, Izuku might have fallen prey to the same rhetoric had he not crossed paths with All Might at precisely the right moment.
He only hopes the eventual legal amendments and social programs offer real hope for future generations. Because the cost of stagnancy is death. The choice is progress or nothing.
The world has already changed, and everyone is just now realizing they must struggle and scrape to keep up if they do not wish to perish.
By the time the main conflict was over and Shigaraki’s body laid strewn in pieces across an entire city, the fight for peace cost millions of lives. Following the armistice, Izuku spent countless hours at the funeral services of friends and allies. He attended so many ceremonies, he eventually memorized the complicated prayers. Where he had once been obvious and unabashed with his pain—letting hot tears streak down his face at the smallest provocation—now the hardened planes of his face hold secrets. His eyes are tough and determined, even in the face of inexorable sadness, because they must be.
Stoicism is expected of Deku, the lauded Hero who vanquished All for One. He doesn’t smile as broadly for civilians and the cameras as he once did—he is no Symbol of Peace. But his determined stare is an important reminder of the hope his existence inspires in the wake of tragedy.
Izuku did not cry at All Might’s funeral. Nor Endeavor’s. His eyes were dry as the desert when they eventually bid farewell to Kamui Woods, Ectoplasm, Nedzu, Eraserhead, Lemillion, Red Riot, Earphone Jack, Grape Juice, Welder, Lizardy, and all the countless others they’d cremated and buried. He dutifully attended each ceremony, head bowed and arms clasped in front of him respectfully. He brought his offerings and lit incense, dodging the accusatory glances of those who still did not understand his power or what he did with it.
It’s okay, my boy. I am here.
And though it pains him, he refers to the fallen only by their chosen monikers because remembering the names Eijiro Kirishima or Kyoka Jiro feels as if someone has poured hot coals down his throat and left them to simmer in his belly.
During each ceremony, Izuku wrestled with his anger and hollow disappointment. Each superficial greeting, all the wary glances at his prosthetic, the frowns and hushed whispers when they thought he wasn’t looking.
He deals with it even now; the distrust and misunderstanding.
Do they honestly still believe things would be different if he’d stayed at U.A.? Do they somehow not realize everything they’ve won—despite all the losses and suffering—is only possible because of his sacrifices, and the sacrifices of other Heroes far greater than he can ever hope to be?
Deku was only the harbinger; the wheels of fate were spinning long before he broke his first bone in pursuit of his dream. It frustrates Izuku that so many people—Heroes and civilians and even his own mother—cannot see that everything he’s done has been not only necessary, but inevitable.
When Shigaraki grasped his left hand in battle, Stain did not hesitate to cleave Izuku’s arm from his shoulder, nor was Todoroki reluctant to sear the wound closed so his former classmate could continue fighting. Those were comrades who understood hecatomb; the greater good. They were two men Izuku would not hesitate to stand beside in battle again.
Izuku is still unused to the prosthetic Mei Hatsume created for him, and he often hyperextends the elbow when attempting to use it during everyday tasks. Eventually, he knows, the artificial limb will feel more natural, but the process of adaptation is slow, and he still sometimes wakes in the night clutching at the shoulder as phantom pain lances through the ruined joint.
In the darkness, his fingers play across the puckered skin like he’s trying to find a melody to soothe him back to sleep.
Worse, though, than the limb he surrendered or the comrades lost in battle, are the friends who remain beyond his reach despite still living. The invisible strain of abandonment and the memories of war fed upon the bonds Izuku worked so hard to forge in his youth until there was nothing he could do to repair the frayed connections. Like his arm, most of those friendships are now severed beyond repair.
Tenya Iida retired immediately after the confrontation was declared over, intent on caring for his family. Ingenium would always be heralded a true Hero, but the loss of the engines in his right leg at the hands of Dabi had syphoned the last of Tenya’s resolve to pursue a professional career once the Liberation Army was defeated. Instead, he runs the Idaten Agency alongside his brother Tensei, working to rebuild and defend Tokyo and the surrounding cities.
Following the deaths of her siblings in the Aichi Offensive, Froppy buried herself so deeply in her work abroad that she has not even seen the shoreline of Japan for nearly four years. Izuku knows the remnants of Tsuyu Asui’s home country are too painful a sight for her to bear. After she pulled the bodies of her family from the wreckage herself—refusing to let anyone else touch them—it was no wonder she took her leave in search of new horizons and unfamiliar faces. Izuku still remembers the determined look in her eyes as she searched for the bodies, even as fierce tears streaked down her cheeks, leaving pale trails in the ash that stained her skin. Though they sometimes see one another in an official capacity, she no longer asks Izuku to call her Tsu.
Katsuki Bakugo and Shoto Todoroki mostly abandoned their heroic path, committing themselves instead to the political restructuring of Japan. Currently, along with Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu and Manga Fukidashi, they were leveraging their war hero status to fight for quirk legislation and reform. The quartet also campaigned in favor of capital punishment for several Liberation Army survivors.
It was here that Izuku disagreed, and because none of his frontline companions saw much point in debating with him, he had not spoken with them in several months. He did see that Todoroki and Momo Yaoyorozu were finally married, a fact which brought an unusually bright smile back to Izuku’s face, even if it was only fleeting. As he’d stared at the tabloid headline on his phone, the sensation of his own grin was so foreign he almost dropped the tea pot he was pouring from at the time.
And Ochaco Uraraka… Well, Izuku prefers not to think of her at all if he can avoid it. His memories of the Zero Gravity Hero are tainted and he doesn’t have the luxury of time to parse through them.
I’m proud of you.
Izuku knows they won. He knows what he lost in the desperate gambit to save the world was worth it to protect the Earth from true and utter destruction.
He can’t help that sometimes the cost feels too high. Izuku knows the bitter taste in his mouth is only a minor inconvenience, a sensation to be brushed aside as he strives for a better world in the wake of disaster. He sits diligently in Hero Alliance meetings, offering his suggestions and fulfilling his duties as required, even when he finds them pedantic or gratuitous.
Izuku thought he was prepared to be the new Symbol of Peace, but he never dreamed he would rein as the protector of a broken dystopia. The realization always recalls that acrimonious burn on the back of his tongue; the bitter taste of smoke laced with smoldering hair and animal fat that blinded him and singed his nose hairs as he danced with Shigaraki in the skies over Musutafu. It scrapes up his esophagus dragging whatever he’s eaten for the day with it. But even as his eyes water, Izuku dutifully swallows the bile back down and returns to his work.
Even if the landscape he protects is shattered—even if one day he finds it broken beyond recognition—Izuku knows he will continue to oversee its resurrection. As the skeletons of victims continue to be pulled from demolished buildings even years later; as the charred forests of Aokigahara, the Congo, and the Amazon decay, they will fertilize the new growth so necessary to their own rebirth and the revival of the world.
A world where Izuku and his fellow Heroes can smile again. A society where people are judged on their merits and not the ways in which their quirks manifest, or if they have any quirk at all.
At least, that is what he hopes.
And Deku is still the name of a hero, even if being a Hero doesn’t mean what it used to. Izuku knows he will never become a savior the way All Might was; that dream is no longer within reach. A society so close to the precipice has no room for pedestals or those who wish to climb atop them. Even Katsuki had long ago relinquished his dream of becoming “number one.”
Regardless of what the news anchors say in their falsely cheerful voices, there is no number one anymore. In the aftershock of a conflict devastating enough to be dubbed World War III—even if that is only an unofficial title whispered in certain company—rank no longer matters. In this new world, everyone is only trying to survive one day to the next with some modicum of joy and security; Heroes, civilians, and even most villains blindly seek meaning in a foreign landscape.
No one knows where they belong anymore.
But you have to let me go.
The rebuilding is slow. Tedious. Wounds heal, but their scars remain, a repugnant reminder of all that has happened. Restitution will come in pieces. There will be trials, inquiries, and new legislation.
There may even be executions broadcast on live television.
But for now, Deku sits atop the tallest building left in Musutafu, flexing his robotic arm as he surveys the still unfamiliar landscape.
His home will never be the same, but his resolve to defend it remains steadfast and unchanging. His determination to become a Hero who saves people with a smile will not waver, even if that smile is more of a grimace than a grin. Deku will spend the rest of his days sacrificing himself for the greater good, the last true Hero of Japan.
Izuku clenches his artificial fist.
He will keep these people safe, even if he has to climb over the corpse of All Might himself to do it. The losses he’s suffered—that they’ve all suffered—must equal something. Because if it was all for naught, Izuku is not sure he will be able to survive the reckoning.
The death of All Might must matter.
The murder of his mentor has to be worth something greater than the man himself.
Otherwise, Izuku is not certain he will not end up in the newly completed Avernus; a disgraced Hero cast down to atone for the sins of his predecessors, the scapegoat the world so collectively yearns for. A criminal buried deep underground in a brief and terrible waystation between life and whatever comes after.
Rejected. Dismissed. Exiled. A lost cause.
A villain.
A title he has surely earned, though only he and the lingering memory of Toshinori Yagi know it. He wonders if All Might were alive, whether the man would still think Deku a worthy successor of One for All.
Izuku, my hero.
As he leaps from his vantage point to continue his rounds, Deku does not think too deeply on the question. Because he is afraid Izuku Midoriya already knows the answer.
