Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Izuku wakes up and everything is just…off.

His consciousness returns in pieces, but he feels like he is swimming through a pool of tar. Wakefulness teases him from above, close enough to see yet impossible to grasp. Every attempt to rise feels futile—thick resistance dragging him down, keeping him trapped beneath the surface. And the way he feels—it feels like the world is pressing down on him, weighted by some unspeakable force and making his head feel like a cloudy mess of fog.

He can’t move, thanks to this strange numbing force. And his mouth feels oddly dry with a bitter aftertaste that kind of tastes like metal.

Is there blood in his mouth?

His heart races—he can sense it even through the overwhelming heaviness. A wave of panic tries to crawl its way up to the forefront of his mind, blaring at him, horrified at not only his current predicament but the taste, yet his body is too slow to react. Too dull.

So instead, he blinks. Once, twice—each blink too long. There are things around him; it’s all blurred and haloed from the light that shines around him. And when he turns his head, slow and lethargic, he can’t help but wince as a coil of sudden nausea ravages through his body, the sensation mixing with the dizziness from the blending colors that smear his surroundings like wet paint.

“Hmph…” He weakly grunts, urging the feeling to go away, but the agony lingers.

Panic claws back up. It’s weak, dampened by whatever is making him feel this way, but he listens because he knows something is wrong. Very wrong.

He tries to move, but he is met with resistance. He looks down at his hands, vision warped and unsteady, and sees leather straps biting into his wrists. And when he moves his legs, they meet the same unyielding resistance.

Izuku’s heart races, hearing its roaring beats pound in his ears and making his head ache. But he pushes through because this place—it’s not safe. He doesn’t know where he is, he doesn’t remember being brought here, and this feeling…what he is feeling can only mean one thing.

Something sinister is at play.

He knows he should get up and run; escape from whatever situation he got himself into. But he can’t. The heaviness, his muffled thoughts, and the dizziness keeps him planted, glued to his seat. So instead, he sits there, half-conscious, barely holding on even when alarms are clamoring, pestering him to get out.

Time goes by in a blur. He doesn’t know how long he is there.

Minutes?

Hours?

Days?

Time just meshes into a confusing mass.

At one point, he closes his eyes, drifting back into the unnatural sleep, but the screeching of metal wakes him up. He slowly lifts his head, opening his eyes and forcing his head to stay upright even when gravity fights for control.

“Oh, good, looks like you are coming back to us.” A voice announces. He immediately shuts his eyes, the noise too loud for Izuku’s sensitive ears. “You scared me there for a bit. I was about to give those guys a serious lesson if they gave you enough to possibly kill you. They should know to be careful around healers, especially one as special as you.”

Izuku tries to listen, but it feels like he has a pair of sound-dampening headphones, muting his words and the settling sounds emanating from this strange place. All he wants to do is sleep and let the warmth and comforting heaviness consume him, but he knows he shouldn’t. Especially not when this guy is here, who is clearly the one keeping him trapped.

So, he listens—he stays awake. But most importantly, he speaks; he needs to know what is happening. His thoughts are slurring together, ideas half-formed and words without meaning. They wanted to slip away before he could grasp them, but he tries—he reaches out. He needs to know.

“W—hy…” Izuku manages to mumble out, barely recognizable. He attempts to say more, but he can’t. His mouth feels so dry, as if cotton has been stuffed into his mouth.

The guy walks up to him, and Izuku can hear shoes tap dully on the pavement, each step firm and with purpose. Soon, there is screeching as the man grabs a chair and drags it along the floor, legs scraping the hard surface with a shrill cry that cuts loudly through the room.

Too loud for Izuku’s muddled head.

He spins the chair around and sits on it, chest pressed on the backrest, and his legs sprawling on either side.

“Why you ask?” He speaks. Izuku watches as his navy-blue eyes gaze at him, his jet-dark, wavy hair leaning to one side as he tilts his head. “Because of your quirk, of course. You have an extraordinary healing power, one that you will be using for our purposes.”

Izuku’s world seems to clear slightly upon hearing those words, eyes widening in shock. “My q’irk…”  

The guy nods, smiling, “It’s quite a miracle that we were able to grab you. You seem to have a group of bodyguards with you 24/7, so it was hard to find the right time. But we have been watching you for a while, actually. Since word came out that an extraordinary healer was studying at UA. We kept our eyes peeled, and before we knew it, we found the perfect opportunity when you were seen alone one day, coming home from school, from the looks of your uniform.”

The teenager glances down and notices that he is wearing his UA uniform. That sight itself starts to bring up memories from before, yet slow and distorted.

And those memories—those flashes—even half-drugged causes his chest to tighten, his breath stuttering.

He was on his way home after another day at school. Normally, Iida, Uraraka, or Kacchan are there with him, making sure he’s not alone. But they were busy, and since he had homework to do, he said he would just make his way home on his own. Of course, they disagreed, and Kacchan was ready to skip his remedial classes just so he could accompany him, but he said that he’ll be fine—he’ll text them when he gets home. And so, he left, and well, his first time on his own did not turn out as expected.  

He was cornered, outnumbered. He did fight; he remembers that. But he soon remembers struggling and then things becoming fuzzy before the world switched to black.

Soon, he wakes up here, disoriented and tied up.

Realization hits him. His eyes flicker wide with shock, but the overwhelming haze forces them halfway shut as if preventing him from fully reacting.

But he can feel the pit deep in his stomach.

He’s been kidnapped. He’s been kidnapped because of his quirk.

That message, his words; it didn’t sound real. It’s as if he carved that message in heavy, intangible fog, staying and floating through his mind even after the voice fell silent. And his mind keeps lagging a few seconds, keeping the fragments as formed as possible, but the news—his explanation hit him like a wave of icy water.

“You are going to do something for us.” The guy states, causing Izuku’s attention to snap back at the man, his blinks weighted by lead. The man seems to notice the glassy sheen in his stare, “But it’s best I explain myself what that is when you’re in a—better state of mind.”

He stands, and Izuku tracks his every movement, the chair scarping as it’s turned and placed back beside the table to his left. The man walks to the door and pulls it open, and for a fleeting second, Izuku reacts. He moves. Tries to stand as alarms flicker back to life. But the bone-melting weakness pins him down, drowsiness washing over the last remnants of his strength.

“I’ll see you later, Izuku Midoriya. Rest well.” He chuckles. The door closes, and suddenly, the room is plunged into darkness.

Unable to hold on, the darkness around the room seeps into his thoughts. He lets it overtake him, and before he knows it, he falls. His head droops forward like a rag doll, heavy and lifeless. Wrapped in a bone-melting warmth, he slips into a dreamless sleep.

Izuku’s eyes flutter, consciousness returning back to him.

He forces his eyelids open, which are heavy but not as pressing as before. However, upon opening them, he is met with darkness, not a spec of light to be seen. He doesn’t know if he even lifted his eyelids, but the faint sensation of blinking tells him they’re open.

His thoughts are clearer, no longer wrapped in a heavy haze, but his perception is still off. He can string his words together, but they snag and slip like he’s piecing them together underwater. And although the fog is lifting, he does feel light, floaty even. But he has more control now—more autonomy.

But as his mind clears, he can finally start to grasp what’s happening—and piece together what occurred the last time he was awake. And that awareness sends jolts of panicked shivers through his body.

“You are going to do something for us.”

That guy…it was hard to conceptualize who he was with the drugs running rampant through his mind and body. But he can remember those words.

“But we have been watching you for a while.”

That’s right.

His quirk.

They grabbed him.

He’s been kidnapped.

Izuku tries to pull on his restraints, but it’s no use; they dig tightly into his skin, making it impossible to move even an inch. But he knows he has to—he needs to get out. He does not want to find out what this guy wants with him, and there is no knowing if the heroes are looking for him. They probably are, but they might not reach him in time, not before he’s forced to do something he’ll regret.

So, he pulls. And pulls and pulls, yanking against the leather fabric with barred teeth. The bindings bit into his skin more and more as he jerks and pulls. He winces and growls, noticing the redness that is forming around his wrists as he twists them raw. But he doesn’t care, even when his skin burns with agony.

He has to get out. He needs an escape.

But to his dismay, the bindings do not budge, and instead he is left with angry red welts that sting and leaves his skin tender and inflamed. He breaths, taking deep breaths, in and out, as a line of sweat trickles down from his forehead. He yanks again, and this time an audible wince escapes his lips, sounding like a cry—a wail. His face twists in pain, the corner of his mouth trembling as he tries to mask the pain, but every fiery sting that runs through his nerves makes it harder to fight the need to give up.

It hurts so much.

But he pulls, more desperate with every attempt.

Yet, he remains trapped. The cords remain stubborn, mocking every ounce of strength he has left.

“Izuku…come on…” Izuku whispers, voice echoing in the desolate, dark room. “You have…to.”

And again, he pulls—he yanks. But it's weak, the pain becoming too much for him to muster.

He knows his wrists are an angry color of red; he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s bleeding or close to staining the floor with the crimson liquid. But with the darkness, he doesn’t know.

But that doesn’t matter.

What matters is getting out.

Izuku takes another deep breath, preparing to try again, not caring how his wrist will end up after all of this. He just hopes his kidnappers don’t arrive while he is—

“Knock! Knock!”

Izuku immediately stops and freezes as he hears a muffled voice announce from outside the door. His eyes glue to the structure sitting in front of him (or where he thinks it is), his heart spiking with anxiety.

“Are you up?”

The door soon creaks open, and immediately light from outside floods in. Izuku squints as the harsh light enters his sensitive eyes.

“Oh, you are! Good.”

Then he hears a faint ‘flick’ and instantly the room is shrouded in artificial light. He closes his eyes, the brightness stabbing his pupils. After being in that suffocating darkness, the flare of white is violent, burning through his retinas with destructive force.

“Seriously, kid?” Izuku hears the man as footsteps approach him. “I leave you alone for one second, and this is what you do.”

When he feels hands touch his wrists, his eyes pry wide open and instinctively flinches, pulling away but only meeting with the familiar sting from the deep, red welts around his skin. But then, his gaze roams somewhere else. Now that he can see, he sees them—his wrist. Izuku’s stomach twists, feeling like he might throw up.

The skin on his wrist—they look…bad. Thick lines of irritation circle his wrist, reddened ridges marking where the leather has bitten down. And he can see blood beginning to trickle down, pooling along the edges of the armrest where his hands are pressing down.

“You were sure trying.” The guy chuckles, “I mean, you have grit, I admire that. But even if you did manage to escape, we would have found you. You probably don’t have a map of this place, huh?” The man taunts, kneeling and gazing at the teenager. Izuku immediately recognizes the guy…he is the same one from before—when he first woke up. “Well, I can’t have you getting hurt more than you already are. So, you either stop that, or we will be forced to use our ways to make you stop, your choice.”

Hearing his words, Izuku at first resists, but he soon relaxes. He is right, even if he did escape his bindings, he doesn’t know where he is or even how to get out. He would just be running in circles and eventually recaptured, and he can’t forget his self-inflicted injury. It's best that he doesn’t risk some kind of infection if he keeps hurting himself. So, the best option for his survival is to just go along. Endure. The heroes should be looking for him; he just needs to comply and find an opportunity—a window for escape.

“O-Okay…I’ll stop,” Izuku whispers, hating how weak and yielding his voice sounds.

The man smiles, as if proud, “Good choice. I would rather not hurt our precious healer, and obviously, I don’t want you hurting yourself. Granted, your quirk still works even if you are hurt, so honestly, it doesn’t matter to me if we have to break every single bone in your body. As long as we keep you alive, it doesn’t really matter to us what we do with you. But you don’t want that type of agony, right?”

Izuku doesn’t reply. However, he stands his ground. The haze may be thinning, but he still feels light, clouded, yet he keeps his stare firm and his unwavering scowl centered. If there is one thing Izuku can do is keep his image of strength visible. He will not let these villains see him as weak—as someone they can easily take advantage of.

Izuku’s gaze quickly roams over to the door and notices that there are others standing guard and blocking the incoming light. And this guy…he just continues to stare at him, analyzing him like he is the most intriguing painting he has ever seen. It makes Izuku uneasy.

“What—do you want?” Izuku states, trying to break that piercing stare of his.

The guy jumps, as if shocked by that question. “Wow, there. Where are the introductions? Just going straight into questions? How rude.” The guy stands up, and now that Izuku isn’t drugged out of his mind, he can better perceive the man in front of him.

The man, who Izuku assumes is in his early 20s, considering how young he looks, is dressed head to toe in black. A long trench coat drapes to his knees, its fabric shifting faintly as he moves. He’s on the shorter side, perhaps Izuku’s height, maybe even a little less. Under the stark light, his navy-blue eyes catch a glimmer, while his unruly, wavy hair bounces with each subtle motion, giving him an oddly untamed presence despite his composed demeanor.

“Anyway…my name is Akio, and I’m kind of the co-founder of this underground organization you find yourself in. We do all types of things from trading, selling, and providing certain services like hitmen, for example.” Akiro explains, and Izuku simply listens, horrified. “Those two behind me are a few of my men; make sure you are nice to them.” He smiles. Izuku has to restrain himself from scoffing at his face; anything to remove that vile grin of his.

The villain places his hands behind his back, rocking casually on his feet as if the whole scene were nothing more than his stage, his playful sway dripping with arrogance. Izuku is disgusted.

“I would ask you to introduce yourself, but we all know who you are, so why even bother,” Akio says. “Izuku Midoriya. A prodigy healer currently attending UA as a hero course student. You can heal anyone, no matter the size of the injury. That is quite an amazing quirk, an incredible gift, and that’s why we want you. If you cooperate, we will make sure to let you go without any injuries to you…or—those you hold dearly.”

Panic flares in Izuku’s eyes. His last words…

“Those I hold dearly…” He whispers, mouth going dry, “What do you mean—you better not have hurt anyone!” He yanks again, wanting to pounce on the villain. But he is pushed back, and the skin around his wrists scream at him.

“Careful there!” Akio warns, “And don’t worry! We haven’t done anything…well, yet. If you don’t do as we say, we won’t hesitate to bring say…your mother over here and have you watch as she takes her last breath. I mean, we do know where you live, so obviously, we know where she lives too.”

His eyes go wild with terror, a nameless dread engulfing him. He tries to hide his blatant fear, his terror-striking gaze, but he can’t. He can deal with pain, injuries inflicted on him, or threats of death, but to those he loves? Especially his mom? That is where the line is drawn.

Knowing that he is stuck, truly trapped, he speaks again, “What do you want from me?”

Akio looks at his unwavering stare and chuckles, “Ah, what a switch! I bring up your dear mother, and now you are cooperative. How nice. The way you were looking at me before made me assume you would be all like ‘I will never do that!’ or ‘over my dead body!’ but now you seem curious—willing even.”

Izuku quietly scoffs. He can’t wait to beat that smug smile of his.

“As for our request! I want you to use that special quirk of yours for something…special.” Akio begins, pacing the room. Izuku’s eyes track his movement. “It’s nothing much we just want you to…bring someone back from the dead.”

Izuku startles, unsure if he heard that correctly, “You want me to…what?”

“You heard me.” Akio stops, that stupid grin of his never wavering, “I want you to bring someone who is dead back to life.”

Izuku is speechless, his words stuck behind his throat.

“I’m sure it won’t be hard. After all, you are a healer, aren’t you?”

Chapter Text

Izuku didn’t know what to say.

That request…it was completely out of the blue; he was not ready to hear such an outlandish remark.

This guy—this villain—wants to use him, his quirk, to revive someone and bring them back from the point of finality, yank them towards the land of the living. That is completely absurd, outlandish. Only something that one would see in a fantasy book or a sci-fi film. Not here.

This guy should know that. He should know something like that is impossible. There is no quirk in existence (at least to Izuku’s understanding) that can revive the dead—his quirk can’t do that. If they know so much about him, if they have been following him and observing him for so long, they should know that he is not capable of playing with something like death.

He can’t heal someone whose cells—whose organs—have ceased to work.

Izuku clears his throat, attempting to clear the rising panic that wants to clench his vocal cords. “I—I can’t do that. My quirk…I can’t revive people from the dead; it doesn’t work that way. It’s—it’s impossible.” He explains, remaining firm and standing his ground despite his piercing fear.

Wait…

Now that he said that…what now? What’s next? Izuku’s heart races.

Would they discard him? Will they see no use in him and throw him away in some lake or something? His terror mounts as every possible outcome floods his mind, especially after revealing something so life-altering.

“Oh, we know that,” Akio says, interrupting Izuku’s ruminating thoughts.

“Huh?” Izuku blurs out.

“We are well aware of what you can and can’t do. We know that you can’t revive the dead…well, not in your current state at least.” The villain adds, a grin tugging at the side of his lip.

The longer he sits there, listening to his words, the more he can feel his body shaking with trembling fear. Instead of the drugs weighing him down in a haze of relaxing bliss, dread presses down on him, holding him in its invisible grip.

“I have a feeling that if we give you a little ‘boost’, then you might be able to accomplish the impossible. I mean, you can already do miracles, I’m sure if we gave your quirk a little ‘wakeup call’, it’ll do what we ask of it.” Akio elaborates. He then sees him walking towards the back, and Izuku can feel him, his presence right behind him, “Wouldn’t that be exciting! And I also heard a little something about your quirk. Something quite fascinating.”

To his horror, fingers land on his head, sinking into his green curls before ruffling them as if he were a child. Izuku jerks and twists his head away, unnerved by this strange and disturbing action. He wants to swat the offending hand but can’t, but thankfully, he stops. But even with the touch gone, the weight of his presence still presses against him from behind, heavy and unshakable.

“I’ve noticed that with those we grab, they are just so…uncooperative. They are always so stubborn, and every single time they refuse to do as we say, so we have to use certain methods…or force whatever we want out of them. But for you…” He appears in view, and Izuku keeps his gaze on him, eyes glistening with dread, “You tend to get a bit ‘excited’ when you’ve used your quirk too much, similar to a manic state. That’s perfect! Looks like we won’t have to address your willingness to do our bidding.”

Izuku feels like his throat has dropped to his stomach, as if he were on a rollercoaster going down at extraordinary speeds. What he told him—he did not expect this guy to know that aspect about his quirk. He is careful not to get to that point, and his “episodes” have never been televised or even talked about for his own protection. So, then how…how does this villain know? Izuku is rightfully horrified. Hearing about the supposed “boost” and his knowledge about his “manic-like state”—if he were standing, he knows he wouldn’t be able to stay upright with how weak and wobbly his legs feel; each marked with terror.

“Well!” Akio clasps his hands, a loud clap ricocheting off the walls of the desolate room. “Let’s not waste any more time! It’s time to see your gift in action.” He turns to the two guards standing by the door, “You two, help me take him to the room where the boss is.”

Izuku’s eyes go wide. They’re boss…

Now he understands. He knows why he’s here. The person they want him to revive is the very one who runs this vile organization. Izuku realizes he can’t let that happen—helping them would mean aiding the villains, and under no circumstance can he allow that. He has to stop them, or at the very least, keep them from giving him that boost. But more than anything, he has to stop himself from slipping into what he calls his “hyper stage.” Once he overuses his quirk, he will slip into that state almost immediately, and when he does, he won’t stop. He’ll never stop. No sleep, no pause, no heed to anyone’s concern. In his mind, he’s beyond limits, a god who can keep healing forever, blind to the toll this state will take on his own body.

And if it keeps going, if he doesn’t stop, he will exhaust all his energy. He can slip into a coma. For days or weeks. Or if it’s really bad…years.

He has never gotten that far, thanks to his classmates who are there to stop him, Shinso specifically. But they are not here—he isn’t here. Nobody is here to stop him. Once he finds himself slipping, he knows there is nothing he can do; he would be done for. So, he has to—no, needs to do everything he can to prevent that from happening.

The two masked guards approach him, and Izuku glares at them. Whatever they gave him was wearing off, so he could fight. Make it hard for them to use him. Maybe he could—

“I know what you’re thinking, young one.” Akio voices, his arms crossed. “Don’t forget what will happen if you disobey me.”

Izuku’s breathing hitches.

The threats.

His mom. His friends.

His words—they come rushing towards him.

His safety…

He can risk injuries to himself. That’s fine. But to others? Those he loves—even civilians. He just can’t. He is a healer; he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anyone got hurt because of his actions.

His clutched fingers relax, and his gaze lowers.

He can’t—he just can’t do anything that can hurt them; he wouldn’t live with himself if something happened to those he’d sworn to protect.

He wants to fight, more than anything. He does not want to agree to this ridiculous request. But he is stuck…this villain has him ensnared in his confining claws.

“Good. I’m glad you understand.” Akio approaches him. Izuku recoils. “Now, before I take you anywhere. I need to, well, mess with your senses a bit. I can’t have you memorizing this place; I know how smart you are.”

“Huh?” Izuku can’t help but voice, his mouth going dry.

“Don’t worry. It won’t be for long.”

Izuku watches in horror as a hand reaches for the skin of his exposed forearm. He wants to move, verge away from his alluring touch. But he can’t. He tugs, but he remains pinned. All he can do is watch as skin meets skin and as the world immediately goes dark.

His panic explodes.

“W-what is—what did y-you—do!” Izuku tries to say as his head darts frantically, trying to see—look at anything. But it's dark, everything is pitch dark. Izuku can feel himself hyperventilating and his heart pounding between his ribs.

He can’t see.

He can’t see.  

“Don’t worry. I just turned off your sense of sight; it’ll be back soon.” Izuku turns, attempting to “see” where the voice is coming from. “Now for hearing.”

Before he knows it, the touch returns, and Izuku does not have time to react before his ears start ringing. And it’s overwhelming. His ears explode with sound, shrill and merciless, echoing without pause. Ringing and ringing and ringing, loud and unbearable. The screech, it claws at his skull, and Izuku screams, he knows he does because beneath the agony, he can hear—although mute—his own roaring voice. But then, as suddenly as it started, the ringing fades…only for something else to take its place.

Silence.

Nothingness.

There is nothing.

Panic claws at him. The silence isn’t calming, and the darkness is not soothing—it presses him, feeling like a heavy blanket has been thrown over him, leaving him gasping as its suffocating hold keeps him wrapped.

And the way everything feels. It’s too much. Every brush of air against his skin feels sharp, too “there”, as if the world has become nothing but touch. And the wood under his hands—he lets his fingers gently trace the coarse material, feeling the splintering yet smooth pattern underneath his fingertips. He can feel everything…too much.

While the silence…the void—is constant, he can’t tell if the silence was inside or outside his head, whether his eyes were open or closed.

Soon, he feels something, a constricting force being removed. Izuku doesn’t move; he knows he should, but he can’t. Oddly, he feels like his floating without a tether, lost in a space of nothingness. Also, the fear. It’s overpowering. Something grabs him and picks him up. He jerks and his heartbeat thunders in his chest, so loud it seems to shake his body.

He needs something, a grounding force. He is falling, going down, down, down. He scoots his hand and soon it meets his arm, his wrist to be specific. He winces; he can feel the stinging pain as it radiates through his skin. But he wraps his fingers around the tender skin and grasps, tightly, forcefully, clinging to the only sensation left in him.

Then he feels movement, a forward motion. He is moving, someone is moving him somewhere, and he can’t see—can’t hear. His stomach lurches with every subtle up and down, up and down. And every sharp turn, his senses rattle as if confused as to what moved when visually nothing did. The motion is nauseating, the presence of nothingness, yet the absence of everything is a disorienting mix; its powerful jolts crashing waves inside his head.

He holds onto himself, gripping his wrist, squeezing tightly.

A turn here.

Another turn there.

Up here.

He wants to keep track, but he can’t. It’s all too much. He has no sense of direction, no anchor to let him know where he is.

It’s like this for a few minutes. Minutes that feel like hours in Izuku’s estranged mind.

Then, down.

He is going down.

And soon, plop. His body slams onto a hard surface, his face unknowingly smacking onto the stinging cold. He knows he yelps. He says something, based on how his mouth moves, but can’t hear it—can’t sense the audio.

Suddenly, a touch. Instincts take over, and Izuku recoils. Palms braces against the cold surface and pulls, shoving himself back and away from the sinister grip. But it’s no use. The touch returns, and just as quickly as skin meets skin, the ringing returns—torturous and relenting. His hand moves to the first place his mind registers—his ears. He clutches, fingers digging to the outer regions of his ears as he cups them, hoping that it would force the voice out. But his efforts do nothing, the ringing simply continues—the agony remaining.

“Coming…back…”

Izuku senses—no, hears something. It’s soft, barely a whisper, fighting its way through the all-encompassing ringing.

“Hearing…soon…back…”

It’s louder. He can grasp it and the sound, the piercing noise, it’s getting softer. His fingers relax…is it ending?

“Good, soon…then.”

He can barely make out the words, though they’re clearer now. Then, without warning, a burst of brightness floods his vision before everything blurs. Curious, Izuku pushes himself up on weak arms. His hands tremble as he rubs his eyes, forcing the haze to fade.

“There you go.”

Izuku blinks. Once. Twice.

“Sorry about that, I’m sure it must’ve been scary, but we made sure to keep you safe.”

He looks up, and his eyes meet his captor, smiling brightly at the teenager.

Really. He is sorry for that. Izuku has never experienced something so horrifying in his life. For all he knows, they could have been bringing him to a ditch to dispose of him, and he would have had no idea. And he is not sure if suddenly dropping him on the ground and smacking his face on concrete would be considered “keeping him safe”.

“Well! We are here!” Akio proclaims, his arms spread wide as though presenting some grotesque game show. But Izuku’s gaze doesn’t stay on him—it drifts, searching, until it lands on something that makes his eyes widen in horror. Akio notices the shift, his expression twisting as he registers Izuku’s reaction. “Oh! You noticed! Yeah, we um…tried our best to keep our boss as well preserved as possible, but it’s been quite expensive to keep him from rotting away.”

Izuku can’t look away, his gaze shaking in terror as he tries to process what the hell he is looking at.

“It’ll be best for all of us if we solve this predicament soon, before we truly lose him. We are excited to see what you can do, Midoriya!” The villain adds, but Izuku barely hears him, eyes glued.

There, just a few feet away, stands a body, suspended in a tube-like glass chamber filled with purple liquid. The man is fully dressed, tubes running across nearly every inch of his body, with a respirator strapped over his mouth. The sight is disgusting, uncanny.

He wants to run away.

He wants to flee.

But he can’t because Akio appears in his line of vision and in his hand—something glints in the dimmed lighting.

“Well, shall we begin then?”

A syringe.

A deep red liquid slushes inside.

His thoughts blare.

Instincts take over. His legs fire with adrenaline.

Run.

Run!

RUN!

And that’s exactly what he does.

Chapter Text

Izuku doesn’t think, he doesn’t hesitate, he gets up and runs. His vision tunnels, stars sparking at the edges from how fast he shot to his feet, stumbling as he forces his legs forward. His heart thunders with adrenaline, and one thing is clear—whatever trigger drug that man has, he does not want to find out what it is or worse, what it can do.

He needs a way out.

Somewhere, anywhere.

As his legs push, he looks around, searching for an exit, an escape from this nightmare.

But there is nothing, not a single opening, and the guards—they are ready. They surround him; predators circling their prey. Briefly, he stops, but Izuku keeps his footing, planting his feet and maintaining his ground. His chest heaves, but his jaw tightens as he braces himself, ready to face them head-on. He may just be a healer, but he studies at the best hero school in Japan. Plus, he’s trained in various martial arts. He knows how to fight; he knows how to protect himself. He won’t make this easy for them.

One of the guards rushes towards him, arms ready to snatch him and seal his fate, but Izuku stays true to his words. His fists fly and his elbows strike, sending a brunt blow to the guard's exposed abdomen. This man is taller and clearly stronger than him, and from the way he reacted to his attack, it didn’t even faze him. The man simply smiles and delivers his own blow, but Izuku moves with a sharp edge, his body a blur of desperation as he maintains his space—away from the approaching mass.

“Oh, Midoriya. I thought we could do this without any unruly behaviors.” Akio’s voice echoes. Izuku’s eyes flick wildly, searching for the man yet keeping his attention on the group, “I really didn’t want to use force, and I wasn’t going to go through with my threats. But I guess you forced my hand.”

Adrenaline is crashing through Izuku in massive waves. He can’t see the villain, only the disorienting blur of the guards, each ready to snatch him. But Izuku stays vigilante, he won’t let him do whatever he wants to do with him.

“You can back away.” His voice announces from somewhere.

And they do. They follow. Immediately, they back away, but Izuku stays planted, snarling.

“I won’t let you—”

“Let you what?” Without warning, he appears right beside him. Izuku’s breathing stops. “Like you could do anything to stop me.”

“How did you—” Terror steals his words. He does not have time to react before a sharp jab meets his stomach. Izuku immediately blenches, and he coils over, falling to the ground.

“Oh, just some tricks I have up my sleeves,” Akio says, standing above the teenager. “Now…” He kneels and grabs Izuku’s chin, lifting it to meet his piercing gaze. “If you are done with your tantrum, let's get started then.”

Izuku gazes in horror as he sees the same syringe from before glistening in his vision. He tries to push away, move away from the horrifying device, but the man shoos his head and quickly grabs his arm. He keeps him planted on the ground, preventing him from running away.

“Just hold still…”

But Izuku doesn’t. The needle’s alluring glint approaches his exposed forearm, and he panics. He pushes. He leans and squirms, non-stop. He finally frees his other hand and twists, breaking Akio’s grip just enough to flick him aside.

Akio sighs, “Can someone pin him down or something. This is getting annoying.”

Suddenly, he feels large hands grab his head and back and push him firmly onto the ground, stomach first. A breath burst from his lungs, forced out from the impact. He tries to push back, but something, a knee, digs in between his shoulder blades, pinning him in place and allowing the unforgiving floor to bite against his ribs.

Izuku struggles. He wiggles and trashes against the individual’s hold, but he remains stuck. Captured.

“Finally. Alright…” Akio scoots over and gently traces a finger against his forearm. He turns his arm around, allowing the back side to face him. “Time to see what you are made of.”

“No! No, no, no!!” Izuku wails. He flails and jerks with desperation, fueling his actions. He needs to get away; he needs to wrench free from the hands that shackle him. He will not—he does not want that needle to pierce his skin.

But it’s no use, Izuku remains caged against the floor, his body raging a storm of fear and panic.

Soon, he feels it. To his terror, Izuku feels the odious pinch. He can’t help but hiss as his senses the sharp metal pierce his skin.

“There we go,” Akio whispers.

It isn’t long before he registers the contents being pushed into his system, and all Izuku can do is lie there, horrified. However, the drug—it’s warm, bearable. It’s actually not…bad. He has never been injected with trigger before, so he isn’t sure what to expect. He assumes it would feel like being hit by a truck, but right now it’s…okay. Maybe this drug works differently on him—

“AHHH!!!”

He spoke too soon.

Instantly and without warning, Izuku feels like his entire body has burst into flames—as if hot lava has been poured into his veins, flowing through every corner of his body. It’s excruciating; the worst pain that Izuku has ever felt. And it's horrifying; it literally feels like he is being cooked from the inside.

“STOP!! MAKE IT—STOP!!!” Izuku cries. At some point, the large hands let go of him, but the relief from the release does nothing to stop the agony flowing through his body. He curls into a ball, his hands grasping his head—his skin—anything and scratching.

Scratching and scratching, urging for the suffering to stop.

But it does nothing. The heat swells in his chest, crawling up his throat and pushing down to his fingertips. Every shallow breath he takes sears; his lungs burn. His body continues to writhen against the ground, jerking in desperation, eyes wide with terror as an invisible fire consumes him despite his skin remaining cold to the touch.

“Oh yeah…forgot to tell you, the initial effects aren’t very…pleasant. But it’ll go away, and then you’ll feel nothing but euphoria.” Akio says, but Izuku can barely hear him through his own pained pants.

It hurts. It hurt so, so much. He wants it to go away, but the sensation comes in pulses, wave after wave. And all Izuku can do is lie there, let it pass through him in torturous bouts. But soon, the sensation starts to fade and the burn simmers to a steady warmth, comforting and almost soothing. Izuku relaxes, breathing heavily—it’s going away.

“Oh, good! Looks like it’s starting to kick in.” Akio comments from somewhere.

He sinks into the feeling before it mixes with something else. Elation. Euphoria.

He feels…nice.

No wait. This is bad—he feels better, but his quirk, it feels…different.

Like it’s too much.

It wants to explode. He feels it, bubbling and brewing. And he wants to let it out. He has the urge to unlock the lid and allow it to burst, but he knows he shouldn’t; whatever is happening to him is bad—dangerous even. Izuku knows that the amount of power that is mounting in his body will backfire in ways that he does not want to imagine.

“Alright, Midoriya. Seems like you are feeling better. Time to do what we brought you here to do…or have you forgotten about my little threat?” Akio voices from above him. With trembling hands, Izuku pushes himself to a sitting position and stares at the villain, still shaken from the agonizing experience. “That power of yours must be urging to be let out. What better time to listen to your body than now.”

Izuku moves to stand, his legs dangerously wobbly, as if they have been reduced to gelatin. He can feel gravity pulling him down, but he keeps his stance. Now more than ever, he needs to remain strong; he has to do everything in his power to prevent these villains’ plans from coming to fruition.

Somehow.

But his quirk…it’s seething and growing at hazardous levels. He feels like a teapot, steam building within the thin walls as the water boils. Pressure rises, more and more, until it escapes through the spout. He knows that if he doesn’t release it—this power—it will spill over, bursting out like a shrieking kettle forced to vent its excess.

He does not want to see what that looks like.

But he can’t risk using his quirk. Something’s off about it—he can feel it.

He glares at Akio, a snarl curling his lips. There’s no way he’s going to be dragged into something so immoral that easily.

“Seriously? Even with my threats, you are still this stubborn.” Akio sighs, “Well, I don’t have time for this. Someone grab him and bring him up to the opening.”

The same rough hands grasp both of his arms and drag him.

“No! Let go of me!” Izuku shouts. He trashes and tries to break free. But the more he struggles, the tighter their hold becomes.

Against his will, he is led up a set of stairs that lead to the top of the eerie tube containing the floating body. Once at the top, Akio looks at him and smiles.

“Dunk him. And make sure his hands touch him, only bring him up when he is close to passing out.”

Izuku’s eyes go wide.

“What—”

But he does not have time to say anything because swiftly the arms grab his entire body and in one quick motion, submerge him into the cold and blinding water. He doesn't have time, not even a second. From that brief moment of shock, a gulp of air fills his lungs. But as soon as his head hits the water, it is gone—swallowed by a roar of bubbles and the shock from the crushing cold.

He panics. There is no air. He can’t breathe. The chill of the water wraps around him like chains, dragging him deeper as he struggles to keep himself from inhaling the water.

But the breath—at least one, taunts him.

They don’t pull him up, even when he struggles and his lungs burn; they don’t allow him to breathe. Instead, someone grabs his hand and guides it somewhere, and soon, they touch something. Skin.

Izuku’s eyes open, and his vision seems to sharpen for that one second.

He is touching the guy. The one in the tube. And there is green, an emerald light flowing from his hands.

His quirk.

It’s flowing out.

But it’s too much.

It’s too much!

He tries to yank his hand away, but whoever is holding him is keeping him firmly in place, unable to move. In his frenzy, he unknowingly yelps and swallows a mouthful of water, and then he breathes. The burning substance runs through his nose, flowing like molten steel scorching through his airways.

He’s choking.

He screams.

His quirk—it’s rushing out; it won’t stop.

His vision is blurring, and there are dark spots floating in his sight.

Is he dying?

Is he going to die?

But wait…

Don’t they need him alive?

But he can’t breathe! They are killing him! He needs to breathe! He needs to—

Then suddenly, he is pulled out, sudden and quick. Too fast. He resurfaces and he gasps, violent fits of coughing escaping him as he tries to blink despite the way the world spins. He hacks for air, his chest heaving painfully, fighting to replace the water he’d swallowed. It hurts; it hurts so much. Every ragged breath he takes is so sharp like it might rip his throat apart.

“S—stop.” Izuku wheezes, attempting to speak despite his throat stealing his words so he can expel the foreign fluid from his lungs. “P—lease…”

Akio looks at him, then at the guard who is standing at ground level; Izuku waits, half his body drenched.

“Hmmm, doesn’t look like that did the trick. How about another round?” Akio asks, a sinister smile creeping along his lips.

Izuku’s blood freezes in his veins. “N-No, no, no…plea—” He coughs again, coming out in harsh, splintering bursts.

“Too bad you don’t have a say in this. Dunk him.” Akio orders.

Adrenaline pumps through Izuku’s body and he tries to fight the two men grabbing him by his arms, but his limbs are protesting against him. Izuku takes a deep breath (as best as he can muster), and he is plunged into the icy cold, forced to repeat the same agonizing process.

.

.

.

It continues. Over and over. Dunked, forced to use his quirk, re-surfaced, then dunked again. He doesn’t know how long this lasts, but to Izuku it feels like he’s been in this torturous cycle for hours. And the exhaustion—it’s growing. But something else is happening, something that tells Izuku he’s reaching his limit.

A dangerous limit.

He is resurfaced again, and he gasps, once more. But this time, something is changing within him. He feels light, and there seems to be this strange buzzing sensation in his limbs, like some kind of fuzzy, unstoppable thrill.

“That is the 6^th time….” Akio mutters, “And nothing is happening.”

This feeling—Izuku knows it too well. The way his heart is beating, faster and faster. It’s as if his heart is rising into his throat. He knows what is happening, and he panics. This can’t be happening, not right now. Once he reaches that stage, there is no knowing what he will do. But he can’t stop it. He’s pushed his quirk to its limit, and now his body is slipping into survival mode, one he can’t escape unless he stops. But he knows he won’t.

What’s happening—it’s not pleasant; the various sensations are cascading all at once, a dizzying rush that steals his breath and makes his breathing shallow and shaky. Everything feels alive, too alive. Every nerve surges with a relentless bout of unnerving warmth, each lit by a spark that makes standing still impossible.

Feeling the explosive rush, Izuku pushes and stands up, catching Akio and the guards’ attention.

“Hey! What the hell—” The guards rush to grab him, stunned by the sudden movement.

But Akio raises a hand and stops them, “No. It’s fine. I think our young healer is entering his excitement zone.”

Izuku turns to look at him, a smile plastered on his face. This energy—it’s coursing through his body, rushing through every corner of his limbs. And he just feels joy—euphoric even, as if anything is possible. As if he could do anything he wants, and it would come effortlessly.

And he wants, more than anything, to release that energy, to let his need to heal flourish.

I can do it.

I can do anything.

I can do anything.

Because I am…

“Midoriya?” Izuku hears Akio speak, but his mind is focused on one thing. “You in there?”

I am…

“Young man?”

I am…

A God.

Izuku’s eyes shoot wide open. Then, he smiles, a bubbling laugh escaping him.

“Oh?” Akio voices.

Suddenly, Izuku turns toward the opening of the tank. He seems to gaze at it, analyzing it, as if it’s the most interesting thing he has ever laid his eyes on. And it is, because someone is in there. Someone who needs him is in there. Someone he can heal. They are dead, right? This is perfect. What a great way to show how amazing he is.

How phenomenal he is.

Without a second thought, he bolts. His fingers tremor with excitement, everything becoming bright as if the air itself hums with possibility. But before he can plunge into the water, a hand grabs his wrists and stops him.

Izuku jolts and quickly looks, hands already expelling the copious amount of power building inside him.

“Wow, there, little man,” Akio says. “I think you did enough. You are sure excited, a nice change after your annoying stubbornness.”

Izuku tries to listen to him, but his thoughts are scattered like leaves flying in the wind, every rational thought and plan forgotten in the euphoric rush. Everything seems obvious; his need to heal and do the impossible seems right. But somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows. The touch, the tank, that person—they are all warning signs, yelling at him that he is in danger. But he doesn’t care. The need—the glow in his chest drowned out everything else.

But this man…he is stopping him from fulfilling that buzz.

He tries to yank, but the man simply squeezes. Hard.

“Calm down. We’ll help you expel that energy of yours. We thought that with trigger, you would be able to ‘heal’ him, but I’m not sure if your quirk is capable, even with the drug. But I don’t want to rule things out just yet, so we are going to try a little experiment. With some…people. I’m sure it’ll be worth wild.” Akio says, smugly.

All Izuku hears is “heal” and “people”. He explodes with excitement.

“Heal? W-where? Show them to me. I need to heal them! I must heal them!” Izuku screams, eyes wild with desperation.

Akio lets go of his hands and eyes the boy. “Follow me and you can heal as many as you want.”

His legs bounce with relentless energy, and his focus lasers on Akio, thrilled beyond belief.

Akio begins walking and ushers him to follow him, “Come on. Don’t want to keep them waiting.”

Izuku skips after the man, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Something—some voice deep inside—warns him to stop, to turn back. But the thrill pulls at him, stronger than caution, and more than anything, he wants to give in to that urge. His heart thunders in his ears, a drumbeat drowning out reason.

His hands glow green, brighter by the second.

He will heal millions.

He will do the impossible.

And nothing.

Absolutely nothing will stop him.

Chapter Text

Izuku is brought somewhere; he knows that, and he should flee. He should, but he doesn’t.

Excitement fills every corner of his mind, warmth and anticipation seething in his heart. His eyes stay glued on the man walking in front of him, not caring for the other two that are following behind him. His eyes are locked in, hoping to get the first glimpse of the thing—event—or something that he is awaiting him.

His mind is roaming, moving at miles per hour. But his body; it’s tired. He can feel it; he can sense it. The way he wobbles, the way his vision blurs and swims with even the slightest tilt of his head—he knows, logically, he should stop. He’s crossing into dangerous territory, and if he doesn’t pull back now, he’ll stumble onto an even more perilous path. But the rush, the warmth bubbling in his chest, the giddy spark that thrums louder than his body’s plea for rest, keeps pushing him forward.

He wants to heal.

He needs to heal.

Because he can do anything. He is everything, and his power can bring about miracles.

Eventually, they arrive. There is a metal door, and it feels cold. Too cold.

Anyone in their right mind would back out, but Izuku—his eyes fall wide, shining, as if the rarest All Might figurine was standing just behind those doors. The spark explodes. Izuku’s thoughts rush in crashing waves of mismatch and incoherent bundle of words.

“It’s cold…” Izuku whispers. “Are they in there?” He pushes ahead, eyes fixated on the door, steaming with frost. “H-Hyperthermia! They’re cold! They must be in pain! Let me in there! I can help them! I can make them feel better!”

“Don’t worry, we will!” Akio comments, causing Izuku to turn to look at him, eyes pleading. “We don’t want to ruin your fun, so…” He grabs a pair of keys and moves to unlock the door. “Go ahead.”

The door opens, and Akio pushes it wide open with a quick swat.

A flick of wonder lights up in Izuku’s gaze. He bolts in, and the moment he does, the air hits him like a sudden cold front, settling in his skin and stealing the warmth from his breath. His body shivers, and his breathing quickens, puffs of pale mist expel out of his mouth as the chill crawls inside his throat. Yet, Izuku does not pay attention to his own body’s reaction to the piercing cold; his gaze lands on the bodies, clothed yet lying motionless on the racks placed along the walls of the room. They are each lined shoulder to shoulder, and the way they are just there, lying there, triggers immense exhilaration in him.

He can heal them.

He can save them.

“Haha!” Izuku laughs, almost hysterically. “Perfect! Amazing!” He turns to the man standing outside the room, watching him. “I’m going to heal them; they’ll be good as new!”

A chuckle spurs from Akio, “Good. Well, get to it. We are excited to see what you can do, great healer.”

Great healer?

That is right.

He is great.

No. More than great.

Outstanding.

Izuku goes to the first person he sees, just a few steps forward from the door, and stands before them. Their face is slack, emotionless, and lifeless. Izuku wonders how long they have been passed out like that, in this cold, but that doesn’t matter right now; he just needs to heal them.

He brings his hands up and startles at how much of his quirk is already spewing out. The green cloud of light envelops his hands, creating a cloudy sheen of emerald mixed with a mesmerizing silver glow that pulses gently, like a steady heartbeat.

Something about this sight should be worrying, but right now, concern is not at the forefront of his mind. His patient is.

He places his hands on the person’s chest, and he can’t help but let out a small hiss as the fabric seems to almost burn from the immense cold, but Izuku continues because he wants to.

He needs to.

His quirk flows freely, nonstop, and without restraints. But then something pulsates, almost shocking him from inside.

“Ah!” Izuku yelps. His hands reflexively move away from the individual, feeling an immense pain shoot out from not just his hands but his head.

He folds forward and clutches his skull. The pain. It feels like an ice pick has driven into his head; sharp, merciless, and radiating outward in pulses that blurs the edges of his vision. It’s so painful—it hurts so much. Why is it hurting?

“Midoriya. What are you doing?”

Izuku hears the voice of the person. He looks up, towards the entrance, and notices him, standing with his arms crossed and an irritated scowl plastered on his face.

“Don’t you want to heal them?” The guy says, coaxing.

Izuku shuts his eyes, willing the pain away.

He does want to heal them. More than anything.

The propulsion—the need is so strong, and he just wants to act. Izuku opens his eyes and smiles at the guy, “I-I do…I’m fine, I want to heal them!”

“Go on then.” The guy informs.

Ignoring the various screams coming from his exhausted body, he continues. He places his hand on the ice-cold body and lets his quirk bleed out and seep into the person.

Izuku watches, transfixed. The room lights up in green, and it flows, and flows…and flows. Without stopping.

And the more that comes out, the stronger the stabbing sensation in his head becomes, feeling like thousands of scorching, hot knives are poking and twisting in his head.

He clenches his jaw, the muscles in his face twitching as he fights through the increasing agony, more and more of his power flowing out. It’s starting to become unbearable; it hurts so much, but he bites hard and keeps going. He will not cry; he will not let even a whimper out. He is a healer, one who saves, no matter how grave the injury may be. This person needs him, so he will persevere.

Izuku watches intently for anything. A flinch. But nothing happens.

“Why is nothing happening?” Izuku thinks. “This should work! No, it’s me…I need more!”

He expels more.

More and more.

The pain is excruciating. His nerves feel like they have been poured with lava, and his body feels like it's being shocked with unbearable volts of electricity. And his legs—it’s getting harder to stand. He is swaying, but he keeps himself planted; he will not fall. Not now.

Izuku grits his teeth and pushes through.

More.

His quirk surges.

More.

It spouts out, never-ending.

More.

It doesn’t stop. Izuku pushes forward—he will heal this person!

More!

Then it explodes.

“AHHH!!!”

The entire room is plunged in green, the glow flickering and writhing across the walls as if alive, making the air hum with restless energy. And Izuku…he’s had enough—or at least his body has. He plummets to the ground, letting the glow envelop him like a heavy blanket.

“No…I have to—I need to…” Izuku tries to say, attempting to pull his body up, but when he pushes down, pressing his palms on the frigid concrete, his arms give out, gravity winning. “No! I have to—heal them!” He at least tries to see, painstakingly twisting his neck so he can witness his work.

Did he save them?

But he can’t see. Why is his vision so—blurry?

But he can hear movement and voices? Multiple. Are there more people here?

“No way…” Someone speaks. One of the guards? “Did he really just do that!?” He sounds shocked. What did he do?

Someone chuckles—amused. “He really did. I knew he had it in him.”

The blurriness clears but only barely; his eyes feel heavy. But he manages to keep them open, enough to see someone approach him, and the once-unconscious figures around him begin to sit up, each dazed and confused.

“Great job, Midoriya.” The guy crouches down. Izuku turns to look at him, his body trembling. “You can actually do it after all. And you have more in you, what a surprise.”

More in him? What did he do? Is it the people? Izuku needs to know; he needs to check on them. Heal them. Help them.

“Wow, there, you’ve done enough. I do not want you to die on me.” The guy says, a hand on his shoulder, keeping him pinned to the ground. “How about you rest while I take care of…this.”

This? What is “this”?

Izuku has to see what is happening and why they all sound so surprised, and why there are people talking—no crying.

Izuku’s heart flutters.

“No! I have to see! I need to help them!” Izuku pushes the hand away and forces himself to stand, but his body is drained beyond belief. He can barely lift his head. Yet, Izuku is insistent. “I must help them!”

“Midoriya. It’s okay, we’ll deal with this, you just…”

“No!!” Izuku shouts, body convulsing with strain. “Let me help them!!”

The guy sighs, “Give me the sedative.”

Izuku hears him, and he panics.

“No! Just let me help them! I can heal them! I can!!” Izuku trashes and struggles against the restraints of his own body. But no matter what he tries, his limbs stay lead heavy, stuck to the unforgiving ground.

“It’s okay. You did well, you’ll get to have your fun again very soon.”

Soon, he feels something. A prick. Then a warm sensation forms. First in his arm, then throughout his body. Whatever he was given works fast. His limbs begin to feel distant, his thoughts lagging a few blinks from the rest of himself. His struggles stops and he just lies there, feeling increasingly distant from his body, making him feel like he shouldn’t be in it at all.

“There you go. Just rest, Midoriya. You did well. We’ll talk soon.”

His heavy eyelids close, unable to keep them open. Sleep hangs on him like a wet cloak, and his mind struggles to pull free. But the cloak—it’s warm, comforting. Why should he pull free?

Knowing he’s lost the battle, he lets himself fall.

Fall and fall…into a dreamless sleep.

Awareness creeps in by inches. Izuku feels heavy, weighted like rubber. It’s as if he is rising from thick water, his limbs too stubborn and refusing to answer. He tries to move, but he can’t. He can feel himself melting onto the soft fabric pressing to his back, smelling and sensing the dry and musty air circling around him. He tries to open his eyes, but his lashes stick while his lids keep them shut, pressed down by an invisible force. When he attempts to pry them open, his head hurts—everything hurts.

Izuku can’t help but weakly wince as his joints twitch and his muscles quiver.

Then, something moves.

A muffled scrape, something besides him, metal on metal, his pulse jumps.

He wills himself to open them—his eyes. He feels something on his wrists. It’s cold. Panic stirs before he can name it. When he finally does, light welcomes his vision, but it stabs him like thousands of tiny needles pricking his cornea. The headache gets worse, pulsing and piercing just behind his eyes, blurring his surroundings and causing his stomach to stir.

He tries to reach for his head, but when he does, the sound from before rattles. And it’s loud. The rhythmic jingle and clatter create a jarring chime that echoes in the musty and dusty air. He stops, his heart begins to pound against his ribs, and his breathing quickens, chest straining as he tries to draw in the fleeting air.

This isn’t right.

His eyes focus on the source and notice that he is lying down on his side, on some bed. His hands are in front of him, and there, on his wrists, is the source of the sound. Metal shackles strapped to his body. Panic flares in his eyes. Immediately, he tries to sit up, pushing through the massive fatigue invading his muscles. His arms tremble ferociously as he pushes and pushes, mouth formed into a grimace. But his joints buckle, and he crashes onto the soft material, the shackles rattling loudly as he plummets.

“D—Dammit…” Izuku whispers, words heavy in his mouth.

Then, there is another noise. Another screeching noise, and it hurts. Why is it so loud? And the light…it engulfs the place, Izuku can’t help but shut his sensitive eyes.

“Oh, good. You are finally waking up.”

Izuku perks up. He knows that voice.

“You were out for quite some time, but after your little performance, I don’t blame you. You probably would have knocked yourself into a coma if we didn’t step in.”

“P-Performance?” Izuku stutters.

His little performance? What is he talking about—

Izuku stops.

Wait.

The way he feels.

The overwhelming exhaustion, his weakness, the nausea, and the way his mind and body are lagging seconds behind each other. This is quirk exhaustion—HIS quirk exhaustion.

That’s when it hits him.

The guy in the tube.

The drug.

The needle.

And water…

Drowning.

He couldn’t breathe, and there was someone pushing him, grabbing his hand and pressing it onto his skin while his hand glowed green—his quirk. They were using his quirk on him, and there was too much of it.

Everything went blurry—then black. When he came to, he was here.

That means…he reached that stage, didn’t he?

His “little performance” was the hyper state he enters when he has reached his quirk’s limit. That means he did something; it’s never good news when he gets to that point. And he usually doesn’t remember—well, he does, kind of. It’s more like a blur, a dream. Now that he is thinking about it, he vaguely remembers being brought somewhere cold, almost like a freezer but his memories are all scattered.

But he knows he did something. When he is in that vulnerable state, he will not stop until he has accomplished the task he has set in his mind.

Dread creeps down his spine. What did they make him do?  

“Interesting. You don’t seem to remember your actions when you reach your so-called ‘hyper state’.” Akio voices, kneeling to face him. “It’s like you go on autopilot, motivated by your one out-worldly goal. But even when you accomplish it, you don’t stop. You keep going even if it’ll kill you. Good thing we dealt with that before you dropped dead on us.”

“What…” Izuku is baffled, horrified. What the hell did these villains do with him? Did he actually—revive him?!

Akio seems to notice his panic-stricken expression, “Oh, don’t be so scared! You did nothing wrong while you had your little episode.” He brings a hand to ruffle his hair, but Izuku immediately flinches away. “You actually did something amazing! We weren’t seeing results with our boss, so when you entered your excitement stage, we had an idea. A test to see if you could actually revive people with trigger in your system. We brought you to the cooler where we store a few bodies of those that have well—died on us, you could say.”

The teenager’s eyes widen. What the hell did he just say?

“We wanted to see what you would do with them, and to our shock, you managed to revive every single person in that room! It’s actually outstanding! And you didn’t have to go to them individually; the room got all green and poof! They were all alive!” Akio voices with excitement, a complete contrast from the pure terror circling in Izuku’s heart. “So that means…” The villain places his hand on his shoulder, but Izuku, once again, tries to shake him off, but his grip tightens, “You can revive people. That’s good news! For a minute there, we thought we would have to dispose of you.”

“Huh?” Izuku whispers, shocked. So, if he didn’t meet their demands, they were going to get rid of him…as in kill him.  

“But that is not the case!” Akio stands, yet his eyes remain on the lying teenager. Izuku follows his gaze, eyes trembling with panic. “Healers are so rare in our society, but one who can revive the dead? Well, that definitely puts you in the ‘one-of-a-kind’ category! We sure struck the lottery with you! Well! Let’s not waste any more time. It’s time for you to do exactly what we brought you here for. It’s been a few days, I think you rested enough.” Akio grabs something from his pocket, and immediately, fear floods through Izuku’s being.

A syringe.

The same drug.

No.

In that moment, adrenaline takes over, mixed with overwhelming terror. He twists and pulls and tries to move away, escape from the needle glinting in his vision. But the shackles clang loudly, reminding him that he is trapped. Unable to escape the impending metal.

“N-No! I—I haven’t r-recovered! I can barely—move!” Izuku pleads, helpless to do anything but beg him not to force the drug into his veins…not again. “I-It’s too dangerous! I—I could e-enter that stage again! F-Faster this time! You could—you could kill me, and I won’t—be useful anymore!”

Akio smiles. “I know. But that just means you’ll be more cooperative sooner. And don’t worry, this drug will force you to move even if you physically can’t. I also know that it may not work now, but someday you will revive him. You can do it, we saw it. But maybe for him, it’ll just take a few sessions. Even if it takes days, weeks, or even months.” He chuckles, “Don’t worry, I am very patient.”

Months!?

Izuku’s heart is hammering against his chest.

“And don’t worry. We won’t kill you. We’ll just stop you if we notice you shutting off on us.”

He continues to speak. He hears him, but right now, he can’t focus on what he is saying because the needle—it’s getting closer. He is cornered; his back pressed against the rough fabric. There’s nowhere to run. All he can do is watch as the villain seizes his trembling with his ice-cold arms. With a precise, almost clinical motion, the needle pierces his skin, and the contents are slowly pushed into his veins.

The effects are instant.

Burning.

It burns. It burns

Immense and blinding.

Chapter Text

What happens next is mostly a blur.

He can sense one thing—pain…burning and excruciating pain.

They don’t give him time to fight or at least breathe through the agony spreading down his veins. There is clattering, metal smacking against metal as someone grabs his wrists and releases the thick shackles sitting on his skin. Izuku processes this, and his adrenaline screams. He would run, knowing that he is no longer confined, but he feels like he has been dropped into a pool of lava, slowly sinking into the depths of the inferno.

Then there are arms, multiple. They tug and forcefully pull him up to sitting. The sharp movement forces a grunt out of Izuku as the pain—the burning—ramps up to indescribable levels.

It grows and grows.

It’s too much; Izuku screams.

“AHHH!!”

He wants them to stop. He squirms and howls, attempting anything to deflect the source of the agony.

So much is happening at once. His nerves are in shock, overwhelmed by the sheer force of pain flooding his senses and clouding his thoughts. But they ignore his pleas. They force him to stand, and fire rips through his veins, raw and merciless. He stumbles at first, but hands grip his shoulder and keep him from falling, the abrupt stop and up causing the world to blur at the edges. They move, and he moves with them, forced to follow their brisk march. Akio speaks to him as he walks, but the voice sounds muffled, silenced by the thundering heartbeats pounding in his ears.

One, two, three.

One, two, three.

He steps, one after the other, each leg replacing the next. Every breath tears through his throat like smoke; every heartbeat pumps more heat into his limbs. But suddenly, just as quickly as the pain arrived, it dissipates, like fog off some terrible lake. And all he feels is calm, yet an immense energy—his quirk—spirals in his core, begging to be let out.

And for some reason, it’s stronger than before. More ravenous than before. Through the sweat stinging his eyes, he can see his hands, his fingertips—they are glowing a bright, emerald green.

Izuku knows.

He’s back.

He can’t control this. The energy is begging to be let out. Yet, Izuku tries—keep it in. But his hands shake, pressure building up under his skin and flooding every nerve. A lighting-like sensation rushes through his veins, causing his muscles to tense involuntarily. He grits his teeth, forcing it down, but the harder he tries to contain it, the more it presses against him, clawing for release. And the more he forces his muscles to keep it contained, the harder he clenches, but the power simply leaks—the dam seconds from bursting.

Izuku knows, and he is scared, terrified, but for some reason, he is excited. He aches to release it. His eyes dart, hungry, searching for someone—anyone—he can heal. The craving to use his power, to fix everything, burns through him like electricity.

Izuku notices this, and the rational side of him knows that this is not a good sign—he is already reaching quirk exhaustion. Well, he shouldn’t be surprised. His quirk is through the roof and leaking, plus, he is still exhausted from the last session; his body is essentially at its last stretch.

But the villain doesn’t seem to notice or care about his predicament.

“And here we are,” Akio exclaims, snapping Izuku out of his focused attention. He didn’t even notice how quickly they got there. “This time, we made it easier for you. We removed him from the containment chamber and put him on a full life support system here at our medical ward. We shouldn’t keep him waiting, especially while he is all wired up.”

Akio looks at him, analyzing his expression before focusing on his hands. A smile tugs at his lips. Does he know?

The villain opens the door, and Izuku briefly shields his eyes as a bright light suddenly shines into his retinas. What he sees immediately makes his heart jump. There are beds—rows and rows of them. Instantly, his excitement flows and the colour in his vision seems to sharpen.

There are patients.

His heart pounds.

There are people who are hurt.

The air around him seems to vibrate as his elation begins to flow.

There are people whom I can heal.

He is pulled forward.

He wants to heal them.

No. He needs to heal them.

Ignoring his body’s screams to stop, he pushes forward, ready to sprint ahead. But a hand holds his wrist, preventing him from taking another step.

“Well, that was quick. But I am not complaining, this will make things go faster on our end.” Akio says, but Izuku doesn’t look at him; his focus is zeroed in on the beds inside. “Calm down, young one. You’ll get your fill. Let’s take you to our person, someone who I’m sure will fill that need of yours.”

Izuku’s breathing hitches.

Is there someone who is very sick…more than the ones from before?

“Show me!” Izuku shouts, pushing ahead.

Akio chuckles. “Alright.”

He is led down a series of beds, watching and analyzing each one of them. Many are covered, but he can hear coughs, whispers, and the occasional pained moans. Izuku’s adrenaline bursts, a tingling rush spreading through his chest, neck, and fingertips.

There are people he can heal, so many of them. A laugh slips out, quick and breathless, and his grin widens.

“Once you are done with him, you can work with them if you want,” Akio informs.

“Oh my god, really? Yes!” Izuku is so excited. He wants to heal them so badly—because he believes he can do anything. He’s a healer, after all. A healer who can fix everything.

Soon they arrive at a bed, and he sees a man strapped to a multitude of wires and tubes. They are everywhere, and beeps fill the space, layering over each other until the noise becomes all he can hear. All he can feel. Izuku wouldn’t have even realised someone was there, buried under that tangle of wires.

“They are very sick, as you can see. But you can heal him, isn’t that right? Go ahead and use that power of yours to heal him for us.” Akio informs.

His heart pounds, eyes glistening as he analyses his patient. “Of course!” He steps forward and, without a moment of thought, his hands press on the person’s arm, ignoring how cold it feels. His quirk glows brightly, filling the space in a hue of green.

But the power—his quirk—it hurts.

But Izuku ignores it; he needs to heal him.

His quirk flows.

More and more.

More and more.

And Izuku fights to stay focused, even as darkness pricks at the corners of his sight and lightning burns through his veins. He watches for something—anything—and then he sees it. A finger moves. He’s almost there.

“I am doing it! Just a little more and—”

BOOM!

The world suddenly splits open with a strong, intense, and shattering crack. Light burst through the opening that was once a door—now a gaping hole—the remains of the structure now flung outward in a spray of metal. The blast punched through his lungs, slamming into him like a brick wall, stumbling and falling from the force. Dust washes over him, staining his eyes and causing him to cough.  

“W—what…” Izuku coughs, trying to see through the debris swirling in the air.  

“I see him! He’s here!”

Someone screams.

“What the hell!! How are the heroes here!!”

Heroes?

But why? Why are they here? He is just healing someone, helping others.

“Someone grab him! We need to—”

“No, you don’t!”

There are screams, but his attention moves as someone appears next to him. It’s one of the guards. They grab him, firmly; it hurts.

“OW!”

The guy looks panicked, “We are getting the hell out of here—”

“Are you sure about that?” Someone speaks from within the smoke.

The man looks frantic. “Where are—” But he freezes. It’s as if someone flipped a switch—his eyes go cloudy, and his face slackens.

Izuku stops. Wait. He knows that reaction.

“Oh my god, thank god we found you.” A boy with messy, lavender hair appears. He is wearing his hero outfit from what Izuku can see, complete with his capture weapon. He pries the guard’s hand off him, essentially slapping it away. “Are you okay?”

Izuku meets his deep purple eyes and sees the worry etched across his face. Cuts and bruises mark his skin—clear as day—and something inside Izuku stirs. That familiar pull, that aching need. The need to heal.

That’s when it hits him, when it urges him. He looks away and looks at the man on the bed and the various other patients lying helplessly, panicked by the commotion.

What is he doing?

Why is he just sitting here?!

He needs to heal them. Every single one of them.

They are sick, and he is a healer with a quirk that could heal God himself.

Excitement begins to stir again, washing away the initial shock of his friend and teacher’s sudden entrance. Izuku smiles at him, letting out a short but audible laugh.

“I’m fine! More than fine!” Izuku exclaims.

“Huh?” Shinso replies, clearly thrown off by his response.

Then, Izuku abruptly pushes Shinso away and stands up, rapidly scanning his surroundings with an uncanny smile on his face.  

“I’m going to heal them, every single one of them!” Izuku bounces on his feet, turning in circles like a carousel, spinning endlessly. Energy is pulsing inside him, too much to keep still. And there is so much green—he can see it, brightly, and it makes his heart pound as his breathing quickens.

“Especially that one!” He points at the man with the various wires. “He is very sick. So sick! But I am going to heal him, Shinso! I’m going to do it, because if anyone can do it, it’s going to be me!”

Izuku moves, ready to spring forward, but—

“Midoriya.” Shinso states, standing and moving carefully towards him. Izuku stops and watches him, his grin stretching wider and wider as Shinso grabs him and forces him to look at him.

“Oh! Do you want to—”

A switch.

Immediately, Izuku’s mind fuzzes over, and a cloud of haze rushes through his mind, turning off his thoughts and leaving him in a blissful fog of nothingness.

“Midoriya. Sleep.”

Izuku hears him. His order. He is compelled to listen; the invisible strings tied around his mind pull him, forcing him to follow, to do as he says. And he can’t argue. He is too lost in a mind-melting haze to even think.

So, he falls.

He closes his eyes and falls.

And falls.

Like a ragdoll that has lost its string.

He wonders if someone will grab him, if someone will—

“I got you.”

Someone catches him. They are warm, comforting.

“It’s okay, Midoriya,” he says. “Just sleep, everything will be okay.”

He holds him, and it’s nice, the way his arms wrap around him like a weighted blanket. He feels secure—and safe.

He lets his eyes droop; impossible to resist the order to fall into slumber.

“You are safe. Don’t worry about anything else. Just sleep.”

Don’t worry about anything else…just sleep…

His thoughts clear, the impulse calms down. It’s nice, the serenity. He lets himself fall, pulled into the abyss until he lands inside the chasm where darkness envelops him and he drifts into a deep sleep.

He feels like he is on fire.

His body jolts with electricity.

“His quirk…won’t stop…”

The darkness continues to consume him, but there are voices…they sound worried. He wants to know why, but sleep pulls him.

Yet, it burns; he can’t fall deeper into its embrace.

Why does it burn?

“Aizawa…where…”

It’s hurting. He wants to say something because it hurts. It hurts so much. But he can’t…he can’t say anything, not even a word.

“H’lp…”

It hurts.

It hurts.

Someone help.

“Here…”

Another voice.

Burns.

Fire.

All over.

“I’m here…”

Then it stops. The burning, the pain…it ends. It ends.

He falls. Again. Sleep consumes him, and he falls once again.

The world comes back to him in fragments—light first, too bright, cutting through his eyelids. Then there are sounds…so many of them—too loud. There is also a steady beep coming from somewhere, melodic and constant, and soft voices coming from elsewhere. And he can hear the faint sounds of hissing near his face and an invisible, gentle push coming through his nose.

Everything is so muffled, as if someone has put a set of sound-dampening headphones over his ears. The clatter, the voices, they all mesh together, becoming a confusing mass of indistinguishable vibrations. But there is a sound here he recognises, even through the fragmented haze of his mind.

“M—idoriya…”

He knows that voice. He forces his eyes open despite how heavy his eyelids feel—he wants to know what is happening. Who is speaking and where he is.

“Kid…y—ou there?”

His eyelids inch upward, and he blinks. Once. Twice, squinting as he does.

Too bright.

“Midoriya. Hey. There you are.”

He turns his head and continues blinking until the blur around the person sitting beside him clears, the edges around him becoming more and more defined. He looks at him, confused and dumbfounded, struggling to process where he is—and well, the reason why he is here.

“A—izawa?” Izuku asks, coming out raspy and horsed.

He nods, “Yup, it’s me, kid.”

Izuku’s gaze moves away from him and observes, attempting to piece together his surroundings.

“W’ere…am I?” Izuku asks.

“The hospital.” Aizawa immediately states. “You have a very bad case of quirk exhaustion. You are mostly here for observation and to treat your symptoms. But you are also here because you were acting erratically, and the trigger drug was found in your system. A large amount of it.”

Izuku listens, but his words seem to come through one ear and out through the other. His head feels heavy, weighted by an envoy. And his thoughts are running thin, fading into static at the edges of his mind. Sleep hangs thickly around him, forcing him down, but he remains up, his focus on his teacher despite how badly his eyes want to close.

What he said. What does he mean by all of that?

“Q’irk…ex’austion…t—rigger…how?…” Izuku says, stumbling through his words as they come out in a slurry mess.

“Right…you have said that you don’t remember much when you reach that state—or things are kind of fuzzy. You are probably having a hard time remembering what happened during your kidnapping.” Aizawa begins, sighing. “Well, kid. To put it simply, you were kidnapped by a trafficking group, but instead of selling you, they kept you to try and revive their leader, who was killed a few weeks ago.”

Izuku’s eyes widen, the haze seeming to dissipate.

“I—they w’nted—me too—what?” Izuku says, shocked, his words struggling to come out.

“Yup. They were after your quirk. Of course, they weren’t sure if someone like you could revive someone, but we found high traces of trigger in your system, and you were in your excitable state when we found you, in the process of ‘healing’ their leader.” Aizawa pauses but promptly continues. “When Shinso stopped you, and it was safe for us to take you away, we found the man in a comatose state, shocking us. We weren’t sure if that was you who changed his status from ‘dead’ to ‘comatose’, but we rescued the rest who were trapped there, and their testimonies confirmed our suspicion. We interview a few, and they let us know that they remember dying and then coming back to life. They saw someone glowing in green, but you were very quickly brought out of that room so they couldn’t get a good look at who it was.”

Izuku listens, his gaze fixated on his teacher, horrified by what he is hearing. The more he speaks, the clearer his memories become.

Waking up in that room. Seeing the man in the tube. Nearly drowning as he was forced to heal him. Then—flashes of faces, bodies, people he didn’t recognise. And suddenly he was back in a room. Only to wake again, everything blurring all over. And the pain…the horrible pain. He remembers that, clearly. He also recalls, vaguely, being in some kind of hospital…just before rescue arrived.

“But based on that information—and the evidence—we concluded that you did revive them from the dead. And as for their leader, you nearly brought him back, too. But thankfully not fully, only up to a comatose state.” Aizawa explains. He rubs his eyes before looking at Izuku, analyzing his frightened look. “You managed to do something unimaginable, but unfortunately, in a not-so-desirable circumstance. I did not want you to discover this aspect of your power in a place like that, drugged to the point where you couldn’t control your quirk, or your thinking. But here we are…”

Izuku’s lips wobble, threatening to expel a weak whimper, his chest tightening from the swirl of emotions churning inside him. He turns away from Aizawa, eyes finding the white tiled ceiling above, tracing the bland outlines of the panels as if the pattern could steady his thoughts, give him something, anything, to hold onto while the weight of his teacher’s words hangs heavy in his heart.

He raises a hand to his eyes to wipe the stubborn tears, but pauses midway, his breath catching as something odd draws his attention. His hand. They are…bandaged. Why?

“Oh, that,” Aizawa intrudes. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s wrong with your hands. The doctor bandaged them because your quirk wouldn’t stop. Trigger was still in your system. I was able to stop it, but of course, I can’t keep my quirk activated on you the whole time, so your hands were bandaged so you don’t accidentally use your quirk. You should be fine now. You are currently on a quirk blocker until the drug is fully flushed out; that nasty thing has a long shelf life.”

“Oh…” Izuku says, slowly crunching and extending his fingers, feeling the rough texture of the medical fabric. He lowers his hands and takes a deep breath, “Mr. Aizawa.”

“Yeah?”

“My quirk, the villains—I—I did something I—shouldn’t have—done.” Izuku begins, looking at his lap, trying to keep the knot in his throat from turning into tears. “The dead—reviving them is not—I mean, it’s—wrong. I m-mean, it’s—amazing but—it’s—it’s scary. Especially when—when I don’t have—control. I did something—wrong.”

Aizawa leans forward and places a hand on Izuku’s lap. He jolts, quickly looking at him. “What you did was not your fault. You were put in that situation. You were forced to do something you didn’t know you could do. I know it is scary, but this only happened because you were pushed beyond your limits. Physically and mentally.”

Izuku takes in his words, staying focused despite the haze. He is glad to hear that, but still, the guilt remains, deep inside him, stubborn to leave. He knows the people he brought back will celebrate him. Their families will thank him, maybe even worship him, call him a miracle worker. A god. But he doesn’t want any of that.

It isn’t right.

Deifying science…nature. That isn’t right.  

“How about the public…those I—I revived. Have they—have they told—anyone?” Izuku says, hesitating. Scared to hear what the answer is.

Aizawa nods. “No. Tsukauchi told the ones who were revived and their family to remain tight-lipped about all of this. We told them why, that it’s to maintain your safety…I mean, your quirk already puts a target on you. Imagine if word came out that you can revive others. Thankfully, they maintained their promise, and no word of what you did has reached the public. The only news coverage that was made is that you were rescued and that the missing people were found injured but alive. Of course, Shinso knows what happened, but your classmates don’t. It’s your decision if you want to tell them or not.”

“Okay…good.” Izuku sighs, relieved. He’s glad that the news didn’t reach the public, and he hopes it stays that way. He is freaked out by what he did; he really does not want even more attention to be directed at him. With a quirk like his, he’s already on everyone’s radar—heroes and villains alike. And what happened is a perfect example of what that kind of attention, that kind of fame, can do. The news of what occurred would completely destroy his safety.

He thinks about the last things his teacher said. His classmates.

Should he tell them?

They are his classmates; he trusts them. But that’ll be too much attention, at least for now. He can at least tell Kacchan, though, and All Might. Yeah…maybe he’ll start with that and let everyone else know some other time.

Soon, Izuku yawns, fatigue peeking through. All this talking is sure making him tired, and his teacher seems to notice.

“Well, I guess I should let you rest, and I should get some sleep as well—or try. The doctors say you should be fine with the quirk blockers, so I shouldn’t be needed. Oh, your mom should be here soon. She was here earlier, but you were still knocked out. I’m sure she will be happy to know that you are awake. And talking about being awake—I should probably let your nurse know.” Aizawa chuckles.

His teacher stands up and turns to leave, but Izuku quickly stops him. “Wait!” He immediately coughs, his strained throat spasming from the sudden rise in volume. “I—thank Shinso for me! He—if it wasn’t for—him—I—”

But Izuku stops, hearing creaking coming from the entrance. The door to his room opens, and lavender hair peaks in before sleep-ridden purple eyes come to view. “Mr. Aizawa, should we—oh, you're awake.” He says, slowly opening the door and stepping inside. He is wearing his hero outfit. Izuku wonders why.

“Shinso!” Again, he coughs. He quickly lowers his tone. “I’m—glad to see you. You are wearing—your hero—outfit.”

“Yeah.” He shyly replies, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m going to be doing some night patrolling with Aizawa here in a minute. How are you?”

Izuku smiles, “Tired but okay—” then his smile fades, “Well, and worried…scared, I guess…so much happened, and well…it’s scary.”

“I’m sure it is, but everything will be okay.” Aizawa intrudes. “I am here if you need to talk, and I’m sure your classmates are there to listen if you need them. And there’s All Might, too. Don’t be afraid to seek help if you need it. What you went through is difficult for anyone, especially a kid like you. It’s okay to not be okay, but understand that you will be okay.”

Izuku takes a breath and glances at the two. “Y-Yeah.” Izuku yawns again, “Sorry, looks like—I’m a lot more—tired than I thought.”

“Don’t be,” Shinso says. “We are about to leave anyway. I’ll see you back at the dorms.”

“Yeah…” His eyes start to droop, but then he remembers something. “Oh, wait!” The two stop before they can reach the door. “I just want to say—thank you. To you, Shinso…thanks for—stopping me back—there. I know—I can always trust you—when—when I’ve lost—control. And Aizawa—thanks for saving me—finding me back there…”

Shinso lets out a quick chuckle. “What would you do without me. But it’s no problem; it’s what heroes do.”

“And you—are sure good at it.” Izuku smiles.

Aizawa doesn’t reply to the comment but does give him a warm smile. “We should get going. Make sure you rest up. If you need anything, you can call or text me.”

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

The two leave and quietly shut the door behind them. Not long after, a nurse walks in, asking him a series of questions and running a few tests. She soon leaves; the room once again basked in silence. The subtle sounds of the heart monitor and the slight hissing of his nose canula bounce across the walls and fill the space with its mellow soundwaves. Now Izuku can hear every creak and crack coming from around him and the muffled conversations happening outside—the chaos that is common in this place. Izuku turns to look out the window, the light meeting his pupils.

The sun is setting. He watches as the sky melts into gold and rose, clouds glowing like embers before dimming into dusk. It’s beautiful—the way the sun paints the tall buildings in strokes of light that slowly fade into a blanket of darkness.

As stunning as the sight is, Izuku can’t help but sigh. It aches…everything does. He feels like the sun, slowly burning out.

He is not okay. But as Aizawa said, it’s okay to not be okay.

He has a long journey ahead.

But he needs to remain optimistic. He is a healer, and a great one. He will continue forward and become the best healer he can be.

He lays his head on the pillow and closes his eyes.

Everything will be okay.

Healers heal others…although he can’t heal himself, he hopes that saving others will be enough.

And enough is all he can ask for.