Chapter 36

Inko is awake to hear the knock at her door at dawn.

For a few moments she considers not bothering to answer it. She hasn't slept much since getting the call, for all that she wore out both herself and her carpet with pacing and spent the following hours lying in bed. The thought of moving has been unbearable, as if her world is a fragile thing suspended on a fraying thread, and one twitch of a finger will send it shattering.

The jolt of frantic energy strikes her in an instant—what if they have news? What if Izuku found his way back?

(It wouldn't be the first time. Once when he was nine years old, his teacher called her frantic, saying he'd gotten lost on a field trip—scant minutes before Izuku turned up on her doorstep, none the worse for wear as he thanked the ghost that led him home.)

Inko throws on a sweater and doesn't bother with her hair before she goes to answer the door.

Her hope—what little she'd managed to drum up—is for nothing in the end. It is not Izuku on the other side, but a man that Inko has not yet had the pleasure of meeting.

Her son's homeroom teacher stands on her doorstep, and amid all the fear and worry that Inko has been drowning in all night, there's just enough room for her to feel compassion. Aizawa Shouta stands crookedly, as if favoring a recent injury, and he looks like he's had no time for a change of clothes or a wink of sleep. There's a scar beneath his eye that's barely noticeable beneath the bruise-like darkness of exhaustion.

He's holding her son's cat. Inko reaches forward automatically, and Aizawa deposits Mika in her waiting arms. Mika squirms for a moment before settling.

Before Inko can get a word out, Aizawa bends before her in a deep bow.

"Forgive me." His voice is deep and hoarse as he straightens again. "You entrusted your son to my protection, and I failed to live up to that trust. I take full responsibility for what happened." He meets her eyes briefly. "And I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to ensure that your son returns to you safely."

Behind her, Inko hears something fall and clatter, somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen. She hopes that it isn't Kurosawa again—she can't handle another of his episodes, not now. Not when Izuku isn't here to calm him down.

Mika struggles out of her arms, jumps down, and darts into the apartment, leaving Inko's hands free to grip the doorknob and ground herself.

"See that you do," she says. Aizawa nods to her, and that ends her first face-to-face conversation with the hero Eraserhead.

When he's gone, Inko locks her door and goes to dress herself. She's lucky today; a few more objects fall seemingly of their own accord, the lights flicker and the bathroom mirror rattles, but none of it grows into a full outburst. And so, she dresses herself and fills Mika's bowls, and goes to the kitchen pantry where she keeps the weak flour.

She spreads it on her largest cutting board, a thin layer of white powder, and steps back.

"Do you know where my son is?" she asks. "Any of you?"

For a moment, nothing. And then, as Inko watches, words form in the flour as if traced by an invisible finger.

He's not here. That's Kurosawa writing—she recognizes his careful hand.

If he were dead, he'd come back, Mrs. Matsuda adds underneath. He's a good boy.

I haven't seen Rei, Morino writes.

That's—that's good. If Rei didn't come back, then that means she's either with Izuku or out looking, and if she's looking then she'll find him. It makes her feel—not quite better, but definitely not worse—to know that Rei might be with him. At least he isn't alone.

Whatever else happens, Izuku never has to be alone.

We'll look, Morino tells her. If we find anything, we'll let you know.

Inko feels something like a draft against her back, and pulls her sweater tighter around her shoulders. At her feet, Mika winds around her ankles and mews unhappily.

"I know, sweetheart," Inko whispers. "I know. He'll come back, don't you worry."

She's already crying as soon as the words are out. Because it's true—he will come back, and she knows it, and because she knows it, it can't even be a true comfort to her.

One way or another, her son will come back to her. All she can do is pray that their next conversation is one that she hears, and not one that she reads traced in flour.

Izuku awakens to someone anxiously patting at his face, and the pain hits him before he can even open his eyes. Ribs. Shoulder. His face, too—Muscular did a number on him, and Dabi certainly didn't do him any favors.

"Deku. Deku. Asshole, wake up!"

He pries his eyelids apart to find One For All standing over him, lips pursed with worry. Beyond him, in the other chair, Bakugou scowls at him groggily. He must have slept off the drugs they gave him, Izuku realizes faintly. His left foot, the one nearest Izuku, strains against the strap securing it to the chair leg as if he'd been trying to kick him awake.

His first question is what time is it? But he doesn't bother asking it—Bakugou probably doesn't know, and the only other people in the room are Toga, Compress, the club-wielding Magne, and Spinner, the lizard man who dresses like a Stain cosplayer, and none of them are likely to—

Wait.

"Hey," Izuku says, or at least tries to say. His throat is dry, making his voice horribly raspy. Spinner sees him looking, and glances over. "Um, what time is it?"

"It's about eight in the morning," the lizard man replies, and yelps when Magne nudges him roughly.

"Spinner," she warns.

"Nonono, it's cool," he says. "This is Midoriya Izuku. This kid's got Stain's seal of approval and everything!"

Bakugou jerks his head around to glare at him sharply, and Izuku can only offer a pained look in return.

Shigaraki's on his way, One For All warns.

"To be honest, I'm not really sure what we're bringing him in for?" Spinner goes on. "I mean, I figure if Stain thinks he's good, we might as well let him keep doing what he was doing already. The angry explosion kid I get, but what was the point of kidnapping him?"

Bakugou glares at Izuku like he's trying to channel his quirk through his eyes.

The single door opens, and Shigaraki comes in with only a single disembodied hand masking his face. "The point is my problem, Spinner," he says, a bit dismissively. "I don't know—or care—what Stain had planned for him. We've already talked. Haven't we?" Around the edges of the hand, Izuku can see the outer fragments of Shigaraki's grin.

Bakugou spits at him.

"I'm here too, asshole," he snarls when Shigaraki turns to look at him. "If you think I'm dangerous enough to try and take me out this early, then don't be stupid enough to turn your back on me."

"Take you out?" Shigaraki echoes, with a trace of a laugh.

"What's the matter?" Bakugou gives him a smile that shows plenty of teeth and a little bit of gums, as well. "Want me dead already? Are you that scared of me that you have to tie me up first before you try? Coward." He spits again.

Shigaraki laughs.

The unsettling thing about that laugh is how menacing it isn't. It's almost friendly, as if Shigaraki honestly finds Bakugou funny.

"You've got it all wrong," he says. "Well, except the part about you being dangerous. You are. We like that. Well, I like it, anyway. But we're not out to kill you." His smile widens. "We want you to join up."

For a moment Bakugou gapes at him. Then he laughs right back.

He laughs hard. He laughs so loud and so long that Izuku wonders if he's going to pull a muscle.

"Are you serious?" Bakugou almost chokes laughing. "You dumb shit, is that seriously what your goal was?" He laughs and laughs until he runs out of air, then takes a breath and laughs again.

Well, that's one way to do it, One For All remarks dryly.

That's Bakugou's way, Izuku answers. Always has been.

"Thought you might say that," Shigaraki says, once the laughter has died down enough for him to get a word in edgewise. "And that's good too! You wouldn't be nearly as useful if your resolve was that weak. We just have to convince you. And believe me, we can be very convincing." His eyes, half-hidden by pale fingers, alight glittering on Izuku. "How about you? It looks to me like you've already got one fan here. And you took a beating from Dabi without passing out. I know for a fact Sensei wants to get to know you."

Izuku stares at him for a moment, forcing himself not to look to One For All for help. There are two possible answers, of course. One, he could follow Bakugou's lead and laugh in Shigaraki's face—which is tempting. Two, he could say yes and see what happens. Except—would anyone even believe him if he did?

"W-well—" His voice cracks, and he coughs. "I-I mean, um." He tugs at his wrist restraints. "I'm k-kind of… this isn't exactly a vote of confidence. You know?" He looks to Shigaraki hopefully.

"Nice try," Shigaraki tells him, in the kind of tone that makes Izuku feel nine years old and ridiculed. "But after all the crap you gave us before we took you in, I think you're the one who needs to prove himself. Don't you?"

"I—uh—" Izuku hesitates.

Watch what you say, One For All tells him. Make it too easy and they'll never believe you. Don't say yes, but don't say no, either.

In the end, Izuku can't think of anything clever or eloquent to say, not with five villains and his childhood bully watching. So he averts his eyes downward, squirms uncomfortably as much as his restraints will allow, and shrugs. "I-I just don't see why I should?" he says softly.

"Deku, what the fuck," Bakugou hisses. Izuku tries not to flinch.

"See?" Shigaraki shoots a grin at Compress. "Told you he might come around."

Izuku clamps his mouth shut and tries not to feel sick.

One thing no one mentions about hostage situations is the monotony.

A few hours pass, and Izuku drifts in a trancelike state mind fogged with—of all things—boredom. He only startles out of it when Shigaraki returns and starts messing with his restraints.

"Don't get excited, I'm not letting you walk around free by a long shot," Shigaraki says. "Sensei wants another word with you. I'll come get you later, okay?"

He hears Bakugou's voice, but can't make out the words over the roaring in his ears. The moment the restraints are off, the floor under Izuku's feet shifts and turns to black tar again, sucking him down into the choking dark before he can even cry out.

The room is much the same as it was the previous night.

"Ah. Hello, again."

Izuku wonders why All For One bothers with that, sounding surprised even though he was the one who brought Izuku here and they both know it. "H-hello." His own voice sounds weak and thin, even though he isn't the one with tubes in his throat. "What do you want?"

"Mm." All For One tilts his head thoughtfully. "Is it not enough to say that I simply enjoyed our conversation last night, and would like to continue it? You're an intelligent young man, Midoriya Izuku. And when it comes to conversation, well, you can imagine that I don't have the luxury of variety, or speaking freely, the way I live."

"I can't imagine whose fault that is." Izuku flinches, and not just because One For All flicks his ear in warning. Nerves make him jittery, loosening his tongue until he's careless and jumpy at the same time. It's not a good combination, and in a place like this it's more likely to get him killed than not.

Izuku bites down on his lip until he tastes blood. He braces himself for that cold menace he felt the night before.

All For One laughs.

It isn't cold or malicious, nor is it a thin mask over anger. No, All For One sounds delighted, and somehow that's even worse.

"No need to be so nervous," All For One assures him. "That would make me a hypocrite, wouldn't it? To espouse the luxury of speaking freely, but forbid you from doing the same? And you're right, anyway—I am the cause of my own situation." He waves his hand in a gesture that encompasses the hospital bed, the medical equipment, and his own sightless face. "My own choices were what led to this, regardless of my intentions." He pauses, lowering his hand again. "And, speaking of choices… I trust that Tomura has explained his intentions to you?"

Izuku's mouth goes dry. He tries to swallow before he speaks again, but cannot gather enough moisture in his mouth. "Yes." His hands are in his lap, folding and twisting together.

All For One gives a soft hum of approval. "Have you given it much thought?"

A cold hand closes on his shoulder, gripping it with equal parts caution and reassurance. Izuku shoots a quick glance at One For All, glad that the villain before him can't see it. "I-I… yes, and I've been thinking about it—"

"Do not lie to me."

It's like the flip of a switch. Izuku can't even tell how he feels it, or why—is it the sudden chill in his tone? Is it the way All For One sits? Is it a quirk? It feels like it could be, the way the menace curls around his throat, tightening like a warning tug on a choke chain. The room is just as empty as it's always been, but Izuku finds it hard to breathe. This is nothing like what he felt from Stain. Stain's menace was a hammer, or a meat cleaver—heavy and blunt and unwieldy, a tool made to crush and break. All For One's menace is a scalpel, sharpened and thin enough to slide under the skin and peel.

"Come now, my boy." And in an instant it's gone, leaving Izuku huddled in his chair, trying not to gasp for breath. "Speak freely. There are many sins in this world worth punishing. Honesty has never been one of them."

"W-what do you want me to say?" The words are out before Izuku can stop them. "You know who I am. You know what I am. You can't—you can't possibly think I'd join you. You want to talk choices? I've made mine, and you know that already." His voice cracks. "So why—why am I here? What do you want from me?" He has never felt so alone. Rei couldn't come with him. Nana isn't here. Tensei isn't here. None of his friends, living or dead, are here.

The hand at his shoulder squeezes again, and he watches it sign in the corner of his eye. Don't lose heart now, Izuku. You can do this. I know you can.

One For All is here. Outside of this room is every ghost, every soul that All For One has ever killed.

However he may feel, he's not alone. He's not alone.

"Yes," All For One says. "I know this already. And, at the end of the day, I have no quirk that can take away your free will, no matter what you choose to do."

(Izuku glances at One For All. Well, he's not lying about that, at least, the spirit tells him with a wry look.)

"But with a decision as heavy as this, Midoriya Izuku, I think you deserve to make it with your eyes open. You deserve to make the right choice."

"I—what?" Izuku stares at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I—" For the first time, All For One seems to hesitate. "I won't patronize you by pretending to understand your feelings, and your experiences. Because, quite simply, I don't." He heaves a sigh. "So many of my successes were the result of luck of birth. Right from the start, I was gifted with something so… so unique. I know that. And because of that, I don't know what it's like to struggle as I know you probably have. Being born functionally quirkless, in the world we now live in, is a painful, lonely thing, and an ordeal that I will never truly understand." He pauses. "But that doesn't mean I cannot sympathize. And I can still wish you the best, in spite of your circumstances."

"Um," Izuku hesitates. "Th-thank you? I still don't understand what you—"

"You see me as an enemy," All For One says. "As the ultimate enemy, even. Well, I'm sorry, but I cannot say the same." He pauses, and when Izuku doesn't answer, he shakes his head. "No. I see a child with a clever mind and limitless untapped potential. Potential that it would be a tragedy to waste."

"Don't worry," Izuku answers quietly. "I don't intend to."

All For One falls silent for a moment. "Then, are you sure you've made the right choice?" he asks at length.

"Yes—"

"I don't just mean the right choice for the world," All For One says. "What about the right choice for yourself? For others like you?"

There are no others like me, Izuku thinks. I've looked. Out loud, he says, "I'm going to be a hero. That's all I've ever wanted."

"And you will, I'm sure," All For One tells him. His voice is warm. "You always could have been. I wish All-Might could have seen it."

Izuku jerks his head up at this. "Wh-what? He did see it."

"No," All For One says sadly. "He didn't. That's the true tragedy of this, I think. Of your potential. You could have been so great, and he couldn't see it."

"You're wrong." Izuku's voice shakes. All of him shakes. "He did see it, that's why he gave me his power in the first place—"

"Yes," All For One says. "He gave you his power." For a moment, he sits silently and seems to watch Izuku with his scarred, eyeless face. "Did he see your potential? Truly see it? Or did he simply see the potential of a new vessel—one that would take his power and make it stronger than before?"

Izuku grinds his teeth.

"It isn't his fault," All For One goes on. "I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you, or to devalue you. But as I said, the man lacks imagination, and it keeps him from trusting in others, and believing in them—"

"He did believe in me," Izuku snaps, ignoring when One For All hisses softly through his teeth. "He does trust me, and you're not going to—"

"How much did he tell you, when he first offered it to you?" All For One asks. "Did he tell you what you were truly inheriting, when he forced his power on you?"

"He didn't force anything on me!" Izuku's nails bite into his palms. "It was my choice—!"

"Did he tell you about me?" All For One asks. "What I am capable of? What I did to him? What he, in turn, was forced to do to me? I'll bet you he didn't. And can you really say that it was your choice, when you made it on half-truths and lies by omission?"

"St-stop it," Izuku grits out.

"He forced a legacy of death and tragedy on your shoulders," All For One tells him, in a voice so full of compassion that it makes Izuku's stomach squirm. "Because that was the only way he knew. I bet he told you that you could be a hero, didn't he? Even that would have been a lie, because he did not believe that you, yourself, could be a hero. He could only truly believe in you if you had a quirk. If you had his quirk."

"You're wrong—"

"And if I am, I will happily admit to it," All For One replies. "I will not claim to be infallible as he does. Because that is the society that All-Might has created: one where he stands as a paragon while hiding his weaknesses behind a smile, and others are encouraged or even forced to do the same. All-Might lies, my boy, whatever his intentions are. He lies and keeps the people beneath him ignorant—even you. If he kept my presence from you, what else do you imagine he's hiding? But I—" All For One places his hand over his chest. "I will not lie to you. The world that I live in, in shadows and street corners that All-Might's light cannot reach, is a harsh one. It is a cruel one. But that is only because it is an honest one. I will not always be able to protect you, but I swear to you, Midoriya Izuku, I will never lie to you. Even if there is no trust between us, I respect you too much for that."

Izuku opens his mouth, furious, ready to lay out exactly why everything he just said is bullshit—because of course All For One lies, and just because All-Might was wrong about something doesn't make All For One automatically right—before a cold hand closes gently over his mouth.

Let him win, One For All tells him. Let him have these victories.

Izuku clenches his teeth, and his nails dig further into his own flesh.

It's advice that he's heard before, and recently. Make him go after a weakness that isn't there.

Tell a lie without talking.

There's an easy way to fold, of course, without having to come up with words. Tears have always come easily to Izuku, even at times like this, when he has to force them. It's not so difficult.

He thinks of Nana standing in his room, broken and bleeding. Sachi vanishing from the beach and leaving an empty car and a ring behind. Kurosawa, forgetting that the night of his death happened years ago. He thinks of Todoroki holding onto him as the portal closed. He thinks of Iida spiraling into darkness after Tensei died.He thinks of the second grade, of the look on Kacchan's face as he slammed the closet door shut before Izuku could escape.

All For One can't see the tears that drip down to Izuku's chin, but he can hear the quiet, shuddering sobs that wrack his body.

"I'm… sorry," Izuku hears him say. "I did not want to push you so hard, but it was the only way that you could understand. You deserved so much better, and I would like a chance to give it to you."

Izuku's hands shake as he muffles his sobbing into his sleeve, but he doesn't answer.

"That's enough for now," All For One says gently. "I'll give you a moment, and then I'll call Tomura to walk you back."

Izuku lets the tears run their course. He's still sniffling when Shigaraki comes in, and he knows his eyes are probably red and swollen, but that's fine. He's made it through another meeting with All For One alive, and that's all that matters.

The hallways nearest to All For One's room are…

crowded.

Shigaraki keeps four fingers on his arm and fills the silence as he leads the way back, but Izuku barely pays attention. He's too busy nudging ghosts out of the way, and memorizing the route. Even if he can ask ghosts for directions in a pinch, it's nice to know his own way around. It's not easy, which is why he only half-listens to what Shigaraki is saying. The path twists through hallways and corridors, and it's lucky that some of the doors are numbered, so there are at least a few landmarks that he can count on. The lights flicker on and off overhead. The wiring must be faulty in this building, wherever or whatever it's supposed to be.

You did good, One For All tells him at one point. I'll be right back—there are a lot of us, and I want to make sure everyone knows about you.

It's after One For All leaves him that Izuku passes by a partially open door.

With a quick glance at Shigaraki, Izuku risks slowing down to have a quick look inside. A passing spirit sees him do it and helpfully tries to push it further open. She seems surprised when it actually works. Izuku flashes her a grateful smile and looks in—

His heart drops to his stomach. His hands are shaking, and he prays that Shigaraki doesn't notice.

Shigaraki's still talking, but now there's no way that Izuku can listen. He'd thought that he and Bakugou were the only ones the villains took from the forest. But even with a brief glimpse into the room, Izuku recognized the third prisoner's face, and the bright blue hair that stood out vividly against her hospital gown.

Ragdoll. They took Ragdoll, too.

It should have been obvious. He should have thought of it before now. Ragdoll had been isolated from the other heroes, and even from the other students. She's quick and clever but she lacks a combat-oriented quirk, and—

Her quirk.

Tracking. Locating. Seeing weaknesses. It's a useful quirk—the kind of quirk All For One might want. Has he taken it from her already?

If he has, then that could mean that he can find them at any time. That could mean escape is completely impossible. That could mean—

"De-ku."

Izuku almost trips.

Shigaraki has just led him around a corner. Up ahead, at another bend in the hallway, is Tsubasa.

It takes a moment for Izuku to force himself to walk again. Tsubasa's broken wings trail on the floor, and his black eyes watch Izuku come closer and closer. Izuku clenches fists and tries to steady his breathing, but it's hard—it's hard when Tsubasa reaches out to clutch at his arm and tug him in the opposite direction that Shigaraki is leading.

Izuku shakes his head stiffly, hoping Tsubasa has enough lucidity to understand. His luck holds— Tsubasa tugs him once more before letting go and wandering away. Izuku watches over his shoulder as Tsubasa takes a different path, and vanishes around another corner.

"C'mon, quit making me drag you," Shigaraki snaps, and Izuku ducks his head and follows.

Shouto spends far less time at home than he does at the hospital.

And that's fine. Endeavor is busy, now that the League of Villains has made such a bold move. He isn't around to tell Shouto what to do or where to go. And so, when he's finished having his wrist treated, there's no point in going home.

Compared to some of the others, Shouto got off lightly. A simple fracture is an easy fix for a doctor's quirk, and he's left with healed bones and instructions to keep the wrist brace on for at least a week. Jirou still hasn't woken up from the gas, along with half of Class 1-B, and Aoyama inhaled enough of it to need medical attention. Yaoyorozu half-starved herself overusing her quirk. Shouji, Uraraka, and Asui needed stitches.

By now, Yaoyorozu is up and about again, though Shouto hasn't seen much of her. He's glad of it; she was worried about Midoriya, and once she finds out he was one of the last people to see him, she'll…

Well, she'll want to talk. She'll have questions that Shouto won't want to answer.

But until then, Shouto can keep things at an arms length. He can drift along among his classmates and friends, shielded by a barrier of fog that keeps the barbs from digging in deep and locking in his flesh.

He doesn't want to think about it. If he thinks about it, then he'll feel it, and if he feels it then…

Well, then he'll probably stop being able to think at all.

"Todoroki."

Shouto starts. He feels stupid for it a moment later; he's not in the woods, he's not on a battlefield; he's in a brightly-lit hospital hallway in broad daylight, and it's only Uraraka. She isn't even shouting at him. Her hand is on his arm, but she isn't grabbing or squeezing. It's just a touch, just to get his attention.

He keeps his voice quiet. He has to, or he'll snap at her, and whatever he might be feeling right now, she doesn't deserve that. "What, Uraraka."

"I need to talk to you." Her hand doesn't leave him.

"Then talk."

"Not here." Now her hand presses, pushing him to turn around and face her. When he does, he has to look away almost immediately. Her eyes are bright, too bright, and every bit as desperate as Shouto is trying not to feel. "Todoroki, please."

"Are… you all right?" The moment the words are out, Shouto shuts his mouth to keep from asking another, equally stupid question.

"I—" She isn't crying, thank goodness, but she looks close. She looks like she might cry if he refuses. "I need—I need your help."

However Shouto might feel right now, he can't ignore those words.

He lets her lead him out of the hallway, down a flight of stairs, and outside to an empty courtyard. Even with no one in sight, Uraraka scans the area just to be certain, as if she's checking for hidden cameras, or making absolutely sure that no one's hiding behind that potted ficus in the corner.

"Uraraka, what is going on." Shouto is tired. He is tired and frustrated and helpless and scared witless, and that combination does not translate well to patience.

By this point she's let go of him. Now, she presses the palms of her hands to her eyes. It takes her a moment to answer.

"I don't know who else to talk to." She whispers it, and Shouto steps closer to hear her better. "I shouldn't have even found out, I wasn't supposed to—Momo wasn't supposed to tell me, and it's not her fault, I was panicking and she was just trying to help, and I—I'm scared to ask Iida because after what happened to his… I don't know how he'll react, I don't…" She lowers her hands from her eyes to look at him—ah. Now she's crying. "I need you to talk me out of something. And if you can't, or you won't, then I need you to help me do it."

Shouto shakes his head. "You've… lost me. What wasn't Yaoyorozu supposed to tell you?"

"She tracked it." Uraraka's eyes shine with tears and desperation, and her arms move stiffly to cross over her chest. "The Noumu that the villains brought to the camp. She put a tracker on it, and that's how they're going to find them. That's how they're going to get Deku and Bakugou back."

Something stirs deep within the hollow pit in his chest. Shouto forces himself to ignore it. "I don't understand," he says, forcing his voice steady. "What's there to talk about? That's a good thing, isn't it?"

Uraraka's fingers tighten on her arms, pinkies raised so she won't use her quirk on herself by accident. "Yes," she says. "I-it is. It should be. But…" She's so tense now that she's trembling. "It would be easy, if I talked to Momo. She—I know how she feels, and I bet I could convince her to let me…"

"Let you what?" Even as he asks, he can feel comprehension knitting itself together in his head. "Uraraka, what are you trying to do?"

She jerks her head up to look at him, and her eyes bore into his. "Go after Deku and Bakugou. What else."

It's only now that Shouto realizes how tightly he's clenching his fists. His nails bite into the palms of his hands. "The heroes will already—"

"I know, Todoroki!" It's the closest Uraraka has ever come to raising her voice at him. She thrusts her arms to her sides as she snaps at him, hair falling into her face. "I know. I know the heroes are already on it. I know All-Might's going to be there. I know it's dangerous and stupid and pointless and I know there's nothing I can do." Her voice cracks, and he's close enough to see the tears gathering in her eyes. "But Todoroki, I—I can't just stand back and do nothing. I can't do that again."

"What do you mean 'again'?" Shouto breaks in. "You did plenty. Asui told me you fought one of the villains yourself. You made it possible for us to go after them in the first place!"

"And what good did it do?" Uraraka's hands move to her hair, fingers twisting in the brown strands. "At least you—y-you, and Shouji, and Tokoyami, you faced them, and you fought against them and you did everything you could. You—you even got hurt, Todoroki." Her eyes fall on his splinted wrist, and Shouto moves it behind his back, but before he can get another word in, her tears are falling and his tongue is caught fast in his own mouth. "And I didn't help. They took him—they took both of them, I didn't do anything."

"Are you not hearing me?" Shouto steps closer, taking his chance to talk when Uraraka stops to scrub at her streaming eyes. "You helped us reach them—"

"I could've gone with you," Uraraka rasps out. "I could've used my quirk on myself and I could've gone with you and I could've helped, but I didn't—"

"Doesn't that just make you sick?" Shouto points out. He feels helpless, and it's nothing new. He can't stand that he's used to feeling helpless.

"I know." Uraraka presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. "I know it doesn't make any sense, and I know it's stupid, and that's why—that's why I need your help. So please." Her voice gives out, cracked to pieces by her tears. "Please. Talk me out of this. Tell me it's a stupid idea. Help me."

It should be simple.

By rights it should be simplest thing he's ever done, the easiest truth he's ever told.

"It's a stupid idea," he says.

He opens his mouth to tell her more, to tell her that he'll bring Iida into this if he has to, because it's stupid and pointless and by law and common sense they shouldn't do anything except stay safe at home and let the heroes handle it.

"You gave me two choices," he says. "To talk you out of it or help you do it."

Slowly, Uraraka lowers her hands from her face. Red-rimmed eyes stare at him in shock.

"Damn it, Uraraka," Shouto shakes his head. "Now I'm the one that needs to be talked out of this."

Bakugou initiates the first attempt.

It's in the evening, during one of their scheduled restroom breaks. The villains watch Bakugou like a hawk, and Compress in particular always accompanies him, ready to use his quirk at a moment's notice. It's not until he's coming back, and it's Izuku's turn to go out, that either of them catch an opening.

It's mostly Spinner's fault. He jumps the gun, undoing Izuku's restraints before the others have Bakugou secured. Izuku slips one arm free a little quicker than Spinner probably would have liked, and Bakugou catches his eye right as Compress is about to start locking him down again.

Apparently he's had a lot of time to build up sweat on his hands. A well-aimed blast knocks Compress back, and Izuku sees his own chance and takes it.

The chair is made of plastic and cheap metal, easily bent and broken enough for Izuku to break free. A kick to Spinner's face clears the way, and he looks up to see Bakugou already going for the door. Izuku hurtles after him and slams the door behind them, if only to buy them an extra split second.

"Don't fucking follow me," Bakugou snarls at him, and for once Izuku sees sense in it. If they stay together, then they're more likely to get caught together. But if they split up, then one of them might just slip through.

"They have Ragdoll too," Izuku tells him. "Their leader can steal quirks. Be careful." He sees Bakugou's eyes widen, right before they split at a fork in the road.

By rights, Izuku should search for an exit. It won't be hard; there are plenty of dead here to ask. He doesn't know that Ragdoll's quirk has been taken. There might still be hope that he can escape unnoticed. Even if he has to leave Bakugou behind, he can take what he knows back to the heroes.

Or at least he could, if that plan weren't horrendously risky, because once he's gone they'll definitely respond accordingly. They could change location, or far worse.

And besides.

He isn't the only one here who needs help.

He gets turned around at one point, out of necessity. There are footsteps behind him—whose? He has no way of knowing. It could be Toga, or Spinner, or Dabi, or…

Or Compress. He really, really hopes it isn't Compress.

Hands yank him out of the main hallway and drag him around a few corners, until the sounds of his pursuers fade. One For All has him by the shoulders, and then releases him to sign.

I can take you to an exit. There's no guarantee you won't be intercepted, but it's the best chance you have.

They have Ragdoll, Izuku says. You didn't tell me they had Ragdoll.

One For All goes still for a moment. I'm sorry, he says. I should have. But I was worried that you wouldn't be able to focus on your own survival, kind of like you're doing now.

Has he taken her quirk? Izuku asks. One For All shakes his head. Good. What's the fastest way to get to her?

One For All fixes him with hard stare. She's sedated. You'd have to wait for the drugs to wear off, or carry her out.

Izuku grinds his teeth. He's frustrated. The sensible thing to do is run and escape, but—

There's just too much. There's too much he's seen, too much he knows, and—

One For All sees something over his shoulder and stiffens. A wordless groan reaches his ears, and Izuku whirls around right as familiar cold hands latch on to his arm.

"De-ku."

Tsubasa isn't alone this time. There's a man, tall and lanky and every bit as distorted and deformed as he is. He stands hunched and half-naked, pale-skinned with six drooping eyes that leak viscous black ooze.

A memory comes to Izuku unbidden—the bullet train to Shinjuku, heading through Hosu City. An emergency stop, seconds before a hero came crashing through. And climbing after him, shrieks and moans grating in its throat, with six staring eyes—

"Noumu," Izuku murmurs. "You both—you're—"

Tsubasa tugs at him desperately. "Deku."

Izuku shoots One For All an apologetic look, and follows.

The distorted figures phase in and out of view. Sometimes Izuku barely sees them at all, and can only follow images flickering in his peripherals. He knows that ghosts lose stability and control when their emotions are high, but these ghosts… It's like they never had stability to begin with.

Before long, he finds himself in a familiar hallway. The room where he saw Ragdoll isn't far. He can get to her if he hurries—

Tsubasa takes hold of his arm again to pull, and Izuku can only follow, eyes burning with unshed tears.

Izuku follows Tsubasa down a different hallway, around a corner, until the hallway ends at a single small room. It's barely big enough to be called such; it's more like a tiny anteroom, leading to whatever is beyond the heavy metal door that Tsubasa is drawing him toward. Once Izuku is inside, Tsubasa lets go and vanishes through.

Izuku takes hold of the handle.

Locked.

A hand descends on his arm again. Izuku turns around and finds himself staring into One For All's wide white eyes.

He's coming, he says. It's Compress, and he's about to corner you. They won't hurt you or kill you for this, I promise. Don't fight, don't give them a reason to—

Izuku is already looking past him, at the masked, sharply dressed villain stepping into the anteroom with an irritated sigh.

"Try not to throw up again this time," Compress says.

The room lights up green as Izuku activates his quirk. He aims not for Compress but for the empty space next to him, leading out to freedom—

The villain's gloved hand flashes out. Izuku opens his mouth to scream, and the world goes tiny again.