Chapter 54

Izuku is in for several surprises, the next time Nighteye calls him and Togata in for an office meeting.

For one thing, it's not just a meeting for members of Nighteye's agency; Kirishima is there, along with Amajiki-senpai and their internship supervisor, the hero Fatgum. There are a few others that Izuku somewhat recognizes, faces from other agencies. Even Aizawa-sensei is here.

For another, there's the topic of today's meeting.

"My colleague and I have suspected for a while that the separate cases we've been pursuing are linked," Nighteye says, with a respectful nod to Fatgum. "Today the test results came back on the quirk suppression bullets recovered from Fatgum's recent encounter with villains, and he was good enough to share them with me."

"Not just my encounter!" Fatgum breaks in. "My fine young interns did most of the encountering, in fact—and did quite well for themselves!"

Amajiki tries to sink lower in the seat, until Togata gives him an encouraging nudge. The meeting is somewhat informal, at least by Nighteye's standards, so there's not much of a seating arrangement. Fatgum actually encouraged the interns to sit together, which is fantastic because office meetings are so much easier for Izuku to sit through when Kirishima is next to him.

"I don't think I need to remind you all that the information I'm about to divulge must not leave this room except through the appropriate authorized channels." Nighteye's hawklike gaze settles briefly on Izuku and Kirishima. "And if talking about policy doesn't convince you, then keep in mind there's a little girl on the line."

Kirishima stiffens. Izuku sits up a little straighter in his seat. The look that his classmates shoots him promises questions in the foreseeable future.

"Thanks to my interns' efforts, we were able to retrieve broken and intact bullets from the scene," Fatgum continues, with a proud grin at Kirishima and Amajiki. "And therefore, we could send the quirk-suppressing serum to labs for analysis."

"Do we know the serum's chemical makeup, then?" one of the other heroes asks. "Or how the villains synthesized it in the first place?"

"They didn't," Nighteye says grimly. "At least not in the way you're thinking."

Izuku looks at him, shocked. This has to do with Overhaul, or Nighteye wouldn't be involved at all. Does this mean he isn't the one making quirk-suppressing drugs after all? He shoots a quick glance at Togata, but his upperclassman seems just as startled as he is.

"Upon analysis, the contents of these bullets proved not to be synthesized chemicals," Nighteye continues. "At least, not entirely. There is chemical modification, presumably to refine it, but the serum is largely biological, composed of blood and cells."

A leaden pit lodges itself in Izuku's belly, heavy dread pressing him down into his seat.

"As some of you may know, my own interns encountered a young girl fleeing capture from Overhaul," Nighteye continues. "They were able to extract her, and she is currently recovering in a location that I will not disclose at this time. The cells in the bullets are a perfect match for her DNA."

Izuku can feel his heartbeat in his ears. The sounds around him turn muffled, as if everyone is speaking underwater. His eyes are fixed on Nighteye's grave face, and when he turns to Togata again, the latter is staring at him in horror.

"But… why?" one of the other heroes asks. "Of all the ways to create a drug like this… why make it out of some little girl's blood?"

Izuku's teeth grind.

"It's likely that it's something to do with her quirk, which we haven't discerned yet," Nighteye answers. He sounds tired. "She's currently suppressing it, most likely due to the trauma."

Fatgum gets to his feet. "If this is the case, then finding and detaining Overhaul is of the utmost importance!" he says. "She isn't safe until he and his organization are off the streets!"

"We also have the rumors to think about," Aizawa-sensei speaks up now. "Underground heroes and their informants have heard whispers of Overhaul meeting with the remaining major figures of the League of Villains. With All For One gone, they'll be looking for new ways to remove heroes' quirks from the equation."

As Izuku puts his hands under the table to hide how his nails dig into his palms, Nighteye nods. "We are no longer accepting a rotation of nurses; her current caretakers remain on-site, and the building is under heavy surveillance to prevent Toga Himiko from infiltrating by replacing one of them. We'll also be moving sites in the next few days, because one of the cameras outside caught a man whose physical build is a bit too similar to Compress's. There are other measures…"

Izuku hears no more of the discussion, because as soon as Toga and Compress come up, his ears are already roaring. A gentle nudge from Kirishima makes him look over at him just in time to see his mouth form the words you okay?

Izuku nods, not trusting himself to smile. It seems like just yesterday that he reassured All-Might over this very thing, that for once he would face an enemy who wasn't the League of Villains.

As soon as the meeting is over, Izuku leaves his seat and heads for the nearest empty hallway. He just needs to get his head together; if he doesn't, then Nighteye might notice, and Izuku can't be sure he won't remove him from this assignment for getting emotionally compromised over it.

The pounding in his ears has barely gone down when he hears a warning hiss from Rei, followed by a voice he only barely recognizes.

"I remember. I remember now."

Izuku's heartbeat jackrabbits in his chest. The ghost is back—he's close, but Rei has him by the hand to keep him from getting too close. Quickly, Izuku takes in his surroundings and spots the nearest restroom—one of the single-stall types that can be locked directly at the entrance door. He leads the ghosts into the bathroom, then shuts and locks the door and turns to Eri's ghost.

"Tell me what you remember," he says.

"Blood." The ghost flickers. Rei lets go of him, but keeps a close eye on him in case he gets more agitated. "He took her blood. Other things, too. Bone marrow."

"You mean Overhaul, right?" Izuku says. "He took Eri's blood?" This is far from new information, but Izuku needs confirmation and a coherent ghost.

The ghost nods. "My daughter."

Izuku is glad to hear that she's not really Overhaul's daughter, but his heart still sinks. "Did he do this to you?"

"No." The dead man shakes his head, and keeps shaking it as if trying to clear it. "No, she—god, what was she thinking?"

"What did Overhaul do?" Izuku asks.

"He took her blood," Eri's father tells him. "He wants—he wants to use it, so he took her blood, he took pieces of her, again and again and again until she couldn't give any more, and then…" He breaks off with a strangled sob, ducking and twisting his hands into his hair.

"He took her apart," Izuku says softly. "And put her back together again, good as new. Right?"

"It hurts," the ghost sobs again. "It hurts her so much she can't even cry anymore."

"Is that his quirk?"

Another nod. "It's—it's so crowded." The ghost trembles. "Anyone he doesn't like, anyone who disobeys—he takes them apart, and leaves them in pieces. Sometimes they're just a smear on the wall. Some of them won't stop screaming."

"Why does he want her?" Izuku presses. "What's in her blood?"

"No. No, you don't understand."

"You're right," he says. "I don't understand. That's why I need your help. I need to know what she has that he wants. If it's her quirk—"

His back hits the locked door hard enough to drive the wind from him. "It wasn't her fault!" the ghost screams at him until he's afraid his ears will bleed. "It wasn't her fault. She didn't know. I didn't know. None of us knew."

"Knew what?"

A hoarse sob rips itself from the ghost's chest, and he answers.

Nighteye is reorganizing case files in his office when Midoriya finds him.

"Sir, do you remember the ghost I told you about?" he asks, closing the door behind him. "The one following Eri?"

There's a note of urgency in his tone, as well as a hint of breathlessness, as if he was in a rush to reach Nighteye's office. There is not, however, any trace of sarcasm, which means Midoriya somehow expected him to forget that there is a ghost involved in all of this. "Yes?"

"He's lucid enough to remember things." Midoriya crosses the room to his desk. "I was right, he's her father." Nighteye stops what he's doing and looks up at this, silently urging Midoriya to continue. "At first I thought Overhaul killed him to take Eri, but I was wrong. He died when Eri's quirk came in." Midoriya meets his eyes. "She rewinds things. It manifested when he picked her up, and she rewound him so far back that there was nothing left of him."

Nighteye already has his phone out, tapping out a quick message to Eri's current caretakers. He's lucky they won't ask him how he came by this information.

(His heart sinks with pity. This is always a risk, in quirk society. Quirk manifestation can be a dangerous thing. No one can expect a four-year-old child to have control of a power they've only had for a few seconds.)

"Does he know how she ended up with Overhaul?" he asks, his voice tight.

Midoriya's face darkens, and his mouth twists with contempt. "His wife—Eri's mother—is the daughter of Overhaul's yakuza boss. They're estranged, but when her husband died, she left Eri with them and ran off. Once Overhaul found out what her quirk was, he started torturing her." He lifts his chin. "That's how the serum must work, right? He must've modified it so her quirk would just… rewind people's quirk factors until they don't exist anymore."

"A logical guess," Nighteye says grimly. He never thought he would find himself at this point—making judgments on the words of a dead man. But it's a solid lead. "Could he tell you anything else?"

"I was lucky to get that much out of him," Midoriya says. "He's still not all there. Watching his daughter go through that for over a year must have messed him up."

After his intern finishes delivering his information and leaves, Nighteye puts down the folder in his hand and closes his eyes to process everything. He still isn't used to this. He's been in this line of work for twenty years, and he shouldn't be this squeamish, but something about having the dead answer back with words instead of tissue samples and DNA analyses unnerves him.

Like an autopsy, he reminds himself. Evidence is gathered from the dead every day. That's all that Midoriya's quirk is, in the end. It shouldn't be any different from forensic science.

But it is. Cadavers don't have feelings, but if Midoriya is to be believed, the same can't be said of spirits.

Dark thoughts stick with him after that, even bleeding into his meeting with Eraserhead the following day. They're right at home there, because the underground hero's news is grim.

"They're on the move," Eraserhead says as they go over intelligence reports. "The city's crawling with Overhaul's people, looking for leads, keeping watch. Footsoldiers mostly, with a few bigger threats among them."

Nighteye passes his hand over his face. He's known this would be the case. It was obvious even before they knew the full extent of Eri's role in Overhaul's operation. But he's never been able to find hard evidence of it, at least through normal pro hero intelligence channels. But Eraserhead is no normal pro; underground heroes have their own methods, their own channels, their own tactics—the kind that heroes who work in the open would balk at. It means that Overhaul is making his moves on a massive scale, and covering his tracks so well that he's nearly undetectable to normal police work.

He says as much to Eraserhead, who grimaces. "That's the problem with obsolete criminal entitiess," he says dryly. "Yakuzas are small-time symbols of the past now. They're like—scenery. A backdrop to modern criminal activity. And that means the structures to keep track of their movements just aren't there anymore. Overhaul knows that, and he's taking full advantage of it." His lips turn up and he shows his teeth—it's a smile, technically, but there's no happiness or humor in it. "Another downside to our former Number One hero's run." His words stir up the settled ire within Nighteye. It must show on his face, because Eraserhead grimaces again and moves on. "Regardless, it's taking all I have just to stay on top and ahead of them—if you can call it that."

"Be cautious," Nighteye says, a bit snappishly. "If you get yourself caught, it won't help anyone in the long run." A thought occurs to him then. "You may very well be in danger yourself. If Overhaul's aim is to erase quirks, then yours would be of interest to him, as well."

"Believe you me, I know." Eraserhead doesn't appear affected by Nighteye's tone. "But caution is becoming less and less effective. Overhaul's people are closing in. If they continue this way, then they'll find where we're keeping her eventually—either by process of elimination, or by catching you in the act of moving her. The only options are to take them down before they find her, or wait for her to be found and take them then."

"I won't use a little girl as bait for her abusers," Nighteye grits out. "Nor will I risk open war with criminals in the streets. The safety of the public is unstable enough as it is."

"Open war may happen whether we like it or not," Eraserhead said grimly. "They can afford to now, do you know why? Overhaul's alliance with the League of Villains may be considered hearsay officially, but in unofficial circles it's well past the point of being a rumor. In fact, it's the only reason why I've been able to track Overhaul's operation at all; the League may be quiet lately, but at least their movements are recognizable."

Nighteye clenches his teeth and says nothing.

After a moment, Eraserhead lets out a sharp sigh. "All I'm saying is this: you can't keep this quiet and subtle and safe. It's going to get ugly. However it ends, we may very well lose good people by the time it's over."

"I can't accept that," Nighteye says tightly. "I know our worlds are different, Eraserhead, but I won't accept that. Nobody has to die here." He waits, but Eraserhead doesn't answer, so he continues. "It would at least help to know who Overhaul's main contacts in the League are. Do you have any idea who that is?"

But Eraserhead doesn't answer. He's staring straight ahead, eyes misting over as if lost in thought.

"Eraserhead," Nighteye says.

The underground hero blinks slowly, as if coming out of a deep daydream. "Say that again," he says.

"What?"

"What did you just say?" Eraserhead is frowning, more present but still deep in thought.

"I wanted to know who Overhaul's main contacts are in the League of Villains—"

"No," Eraserhead says. "Before that."

Nighteye has to think for a moment. "I said that nobody has to die."

"That's…" For a moment Eraserhead just looks lost. His brow furrows, and when he speaks again, he seems to sound the words out carefully. "That's not really up to you, is it?"

It's not an odd thing to say so much as an odd way to say it. For the briefest of moments Nighteye is almost tempted to have a look at Eraserhead's fate for a clue, but it's an easy idea to squash. "Are you feeling quite all right?"

Eraserhead shakes his head, not to say no but to clear it. "Yes. You just reminded me of something one of my students said to me once—at the USJ, no less, when the League first showed up. Things must be pretty desperate, if you're starting to quote my students by accident—especially if it's that student." The shadows under his eyes deepen.

"Have you slept recently?" Nighteye asks, though he suspects that he already knows the answer.

"By my standards," Eraserhead answers unhelpfully.

The discussion resumes and doesn't touch that topic again, but Eraserhead remains quiet and thoughtful throughout it.

This time, when Izuku leaves campus right after school, Kirishima is the one to watch him leave.

Now that Todoroki knows firsthand where he keeps disappearing, he barely gives Izuku's departures a second glance. This has the unexpected bonus of getting Uraraka and Iida to stop giving him weird looks, too. They must assume that Todoroki worries about him enough to be a trustworthy gauge of whether or not Izuku is doing something stupid, which he's glad of, because it's hard to reassure them when security issues prevent him from telling everyone about what he's doing for his internship and why.

All this just means that Kirishima's attention is that much more noticeable. Izuku returns the look with an apologetic shrug. He'll ask Nighteye later about how much he can tell Kirishima, especially since the two agencies seem to be working together on this.

For now, he has a visit to make. He's a little excited today; he called his mother recently to ask about some of the children's storybooks she stored away after he outgrew them, and now five of them are crammed into his backpack.

One of the higher-level office workers from Nighteye's agency comes to pick him up. Togata can't make the trip with him today; Nighteye has him on patrol, so he'll probably show up later if he decides to come in at all.

(He will. They haven't gotten Eri to smile yet.)

Izuku gets a text from Nighteye alerting him to a change in the watch schedule; Centipeder is supposed to be the one screening people who go in and out of the building where they're hiding Eri, but he called in for a replacement after taking sick during his watch shift. Izuku's heart goes out to him; it's well into autumn, and that means flu season is upon them.

Bubble Girl is nice, though. She greets him with a smile and a lightbulb joke when he's dropped off (How many ranked heroes does it take to change a lightbulb? Just one, they don't like to share the spotlight.) and they trade code words before she lets him through.

"Anybody else come through?" he asks hopefully. There's a small chance Mirio has already finished up.

"Nope! And Centipeder said the same thing when I asked him." She passes him the com device. "Here's your panic button, you know the drill."

"Yeah, thanks."

Izuku picks up his pace to jog through the lobby, adjusting the straps on his backpack. This area is usually empty; everyone who enters knows exactly what they're there for, and the heroes at the door are the ones controlling access, so there's no need for a receptionist desk. There's definitely something to be said about secret operations: they're very efficient.

Rei darts ahead of him through the first door, and he can't help smiling at her excitement. She likes being around Eri, even if Izuku is the only one who knows she's there. Sometimes he thinks she misses the days when he was smaller than her, and being around Eri reminds her of them.

One of the medical technicians steps out into the hallway and spots him. "Oh, hello, Midoriya-kun," she greets him. "Did you need something?"

By itself, it's an innocuous question. There's no real reason for Izuku to do anything but offer a polite no and keep walking.

And yet…

Izuku pauses, because it's odd. It's an odd thing to say to someone who's just arrived, who's scheduled to be here, who's walking in a straight line because he knows exactly where he's going.

"No?" he says, almost asks. "I just got here. Eri's not in a different room, is she?"

The technician blinks at him, confusion clouding her face. "She shouldn't be," she says. "Is that why you're back down here? Did you have trouble finding her?"

And Izuku's heart sinks low, low in his chest, so low it has to be reaching his stomach.

"What do you mean, 'back'?"

"I mean I just spoke to you a minute ago," the technician says. "If you're back down already, then—"

Izuku is already running, tearing off his backpack to rid himself of excess weight. He barely remembers comming Bubble Girl before he has his phone to his ear, dialing as he runs down the hallway and makes for the nearest stairs.

Nighteye, to his credit, picks up on the first ring.

"I'm at the facility," he says, as soon as he hears Nighteye breathe over the line. Rei is long gone by the time he yanks the door open and launches himself up the steps with One For All. "I just got here and one of the technicians told me she already saw me pass through."

Nighteye's breath hisses as if through clenched teeth. "I'm sending—"

Izuku doesn't hear the end of that sentence, because someone knocks his feet out from under him on his way up the stairs. His phone flies from his hand and out of reach. His chin hits the corner of a step, and he narrowly avoids biting his tongue.

With a yell, he flips over to face his attacker and struggles to his feet, still dazed as blood trickles down his throat. The stairwell is dim, but not dim enough for his eyes. He knows the villain standing over him; he hasn't seen her since Kamino, but she's unmistakable.

"You," he spits at Magne. "Seriously? Don't tell me you people are working with yakuzas now. Is this how desperate the League is?"

The villain doesn't rise to his taunt. He struggles to his feet, or tries, but Magne's foot comes down hard on his chest, pinning him to the stairs. With her shoe crushing him like that, he can feel her shaking.

"Holy shit," she grits out. "It's true. It's true."

"What are you talking about—"

"It's nothing personal," she says. "Well—that's a lie. It's very personal. But not against you." Her lips stretch wide in a smile, showing the blood in her teeth. "Are you worried about Overhaul? Don't be. Soon as they get him the girl, he'll hand over the formula, and then—and then—he'll be all yours. Shigaraki'll wrap him up in a nice little bow for you. Maybe he'll send him in pieces." She laughs, and it's high and clear and cold.

His eyes adjust further, and Magne meets his gaze.

"Do you understand?" she asks, fixing him with her blank, dead-white eyes. "He has to pay first. He hurt Compress. He killed me. And we're not like him. No one's a tool, no one's a pawn. Every one of us is in it together, and that's why he'll get what's coming to him. You heroes—" Her shoe digs further into his chest. Her voice rises. "You two-faced hypocrites can have what's left on a silver platter. All yours. You won't even have to lift a finger. All it'll cost you is one little girl—"

Rei appears without a sound, but by the time she hits Magne the stairwell is echoing with her howling. Magne falls back, flickering as she screams, and Izuku scrambles up and keeps running. He makes the mistake of looking back, just in time to see Magne revert back to what Overhaul left of her. It isn't much.

The next floor is Eri's. Izuku hears Magne's screams and Rei's snarling, forces down the sickening horror, and prays he won't be too late.

Eri has been quiet since Deku got here.

She's almost never quiet when he's here. If anything it's the only time she isn't quiet, because when Deku comes, he brings so many things to talk about. Books. Pictures. Funny little movies. Sometimes he just sits and tells her stories, tells her about things and places she's never heard of before. He talks, she listens, and—best of all—he lets her ask questions.

She loves it. He's scary sometimes but she isn't afraid of him, and she knows he isn't afraid of anything because he's scary. No one who's that scary can be afraid of anything, and if she stays with someone who's scarier, then… then people who hurt her… well, then no one's going to hurt her, right? She feels safe. She's never felt safe before.

And she doesn't feel safe now.

"What's the matter, Eri-chan?" He smiles at her, again, but it's all wrong. When he smiles at her like that, it feels like his eyes are raking over her, digging under her skin and catching.

Eri knows what to do around people who look at her that way. She presses her lips closed, looks at the floor, and doesn't move.

"Aww, don't be like that." He touches her face, and when she pulls away without thinking, he touches her again anyway, squeezing until his fingers dig into her cheeks. "You're so cute and soft, Eri-chan, and you have the sweetest little voice."

Eri's heart sinks low, low, low in her chest, and it doesn't come back up. Deku doesn't touch her unless it's okay with her first, but now he is, and that means it's finally over. It's always like this, with her babysitters. They're nice to her, they speak softly and give her things, but eventually they get tired of it. They stop asking and start making her do things, and Deku—

Deku was better at it, it lasted longer and it felt different but now it's back to the same, all over again, and it feels so much worse because Eri forgot to be ready for it.

"That's such a sad face, Eri-chan!" Deku frowns at her, squeezing her cheeks again. "Tell you what—I brought you something that might make you feel better. Do you want to see what it is?"

Eri doesn't answer. People who talk to her like this never actually want her to, even when they ask her questions.

"Come on! I'll show you." Deku gets up and pulls at her, forcing her to her feet while Eri's stomach ties itself in knots. She raises her eyes again, and there's nothing right about the smile on Deku's face. His voice is quiet but eager, like he's sharing a secret with her. "Hurry up, Eri-chan, let's go! You'll love it, I know you wi—"

He's tumbling across the floor in the next moment, over and over until he stops, and then Eri's view of him is blocked.

"Sorry, Eri." It's Deku's voice, but Deku isn't talking—he's still on the floor. His voice is coming from the person in front of her. Eri looks up, and sees another Deku standing there.

This Deku isn't like the first. This one looks angry.

"I'm sorry I didn't get here faster. You must be really confused, huh?"

Eri stares.

"Do you remember what book we read together, yesterday?" Deku—the one standing in front of her—asks. She nods. She had asked him about birds once, and he brought her a book full of pictures. Deku turns to her, and she sees his face fully. "Would you like to try asking that one what book it was?"

For a moment Eri forgets where she is, and when she is. She's not sitting in the playroom with the nurses' station right outside, wearing a soft clean robe just her size. She's out in the street, the rough ground scraping her sore feet, in a dirty, itchy smock that slips off one shoulder because of a tear in the neck. Deku's face looks the same now as it did then, teeth bared and eyes bright, angry but not at her, scary but not to her.

She doesn't need to ask, Eri realizes as she curls her fingers into his pant leg. She knows which one is her Deku.

The other Deku—the fake one—is standing again, smiling that wrong smile again. His teeth look sharp. "Did you know I was here?" he asks the real Deku. "You did, didn't you? You totally knew I was here. Were you excited to see me again, Izu-chan? I've missed you sooo much!"

Deku is glowing. He's sparking green all over, but the sparks don't hurt even then they touch her. It feels warm. Warm and strong and safe and just a little bit frightening, but for someone else. Someone who isn't her.

He doesn't say anything. He just stands in front of Eri and waits. The Wrong Deku's smile fades a little.

"You were so much fun, before," he says—almost whines. "But now you won't even talk to me. It's been so long, Izu-chan. I missed you. Didn't you miss me, too? Even just a little?" When Deku doesn't answer, his face changes. It's stretched and ugly, and not-Deku's face was already wrong before, but seeing this makes Eri want to curl up small and hide. "I know you did. Don't try to lie. You're special, Izu-chan! You're special to me, and I'm special to you! I know it! I can prove—!"

Eri hears nothing more.

The room vanishes—the floor, the walls, the toys and books and Deku and not-Deku, all vanish. Eri is somewhere small, curled up and cramped with no idea which way is up or down. She can't hear or see, everything is dark and silent, closing around her, crushing her into nothing. She tries to cry for help, but she can't even hear herself scream.

And then, as suddenly as it started, it's over. She's back in the world again, but the playroom is gone, and there are arms around her, pulling her close.

Deku's arms. She's so close she can hear him breathing, fast and short and noisy.

She hasn't seen this hallway before. It looks like the rest of this place, but she doesn't know where it is. She's too scared to leave the places she has already been, too scared of straying far enough for him to find her. She doesn't know where she is, only that Deku is here, holding her. He got her out, he got her away from him, and when she asked him not to let go, he didn't.

There's a man in the hallway before them. She can't see his face behind the mask, but she can hear his voice. The Wrong Deku is gone, and the real one is beside her, breathing funny and shaking against her.

He's shaking.

Eri twists around to look at him. He doesn't look back, because his eyes are on the man in the mask, and he won't move, won't talk, won't look at anyone or anything else.

She's never seen him scared before.

"Ah," the man is saying. "I was wondering if you remembered me. But you do, don't you?"

"Stay away." Deku's voice shakes.

"You know I can't do that, Midoriya," the man tells him, and steps toward them. Deku pulls back, but there's a wall in the way. "But you don't have to worry, because I'm not here to take you back. I'm here for the girl only."

"I'm warning you." It doesn't just shake; it cracks, like Deku's voice is breaking apart and the rest of him is going to do the same.

There's someone Deku is scared of, Eri thinks. There's someone who's so strong, so terrible, that Deku can't do anything but shake and cry in front of them. She knows what that's like.

"I can take you back all the same, if you make this difficult," the man says. "Is that what you want? I'm afraid it would be a much longer journey, with Kurogiri out of reach for now." He lifts his hand, and Deku flinches.

The man is fast, and there's nowhere to run, but Deku throws her out of the way. She hits the floor and rolls, and when she looks back, Deku is gone and the man is holding a shiny marble. He sighs, annoyed, and flicks it away. It breaks, and Deku hits the wall and slides down. He doesn't make any sound except his sharp, quick breathing, but there are tears on his face as he presses himself back.

"You are trying my patience," the man says. "You try all our patience, and I've half a mind to take you along anyway, but you've always been more trouble than you're worth. I could always use my quirk on you and leave you here. How long do you think it would take them to find you?" He steps forward and raises his hand again, and Deku shrinks back just like her old babysitters before they died, just like his people when he's angry, just like—

just like her

"Wait." She stands, and her heartbeat rattles in her chest, and her throat tastes the way it always does when she's about to be sick. But that's okay.

That's okay, she tells herself, and wishes she could believe it.

The man is looking at her now, she thinks. His hand hovers over Deku, and she makes her feet carry her forward until it lowers.

"Wait," she says again. "Don't. I'll go—I'll go with you."

"Eri." Deku's voice hisses and rattles out of him, but the masked man's hand comes up again, and he chokes on her name.

"I'll go," she says, and she's already crying but she says it anyway, because Deku is nice and good and he doesn't deserve to be scared, not for someone who's cursed and broken already. Not for her. "I'll go, if you don't hurt him. You can do it to me, not him. Please."

"Interesting," the masked man says. "You say that when you don't even know what I'll do. What I've been told to do."

"Eri, just run," Deku sobs, but she steps closer again.

"You're here to take me back." She knows that's what it is. It can't be anything else. It was never going to be anything else. "Right? You'll take me back to him."

"To Overhaul, yes," the man says. "It's part of our agreement, you understand." She doesn't, but that doesn't matter. That's not important right now.

"Then it doesn't matter," she says. "What you do. Because no matter what, he'll put me back together. So it doesn't matter. Please don't hurt him." She blinks, and she can't see them through the tears. That's probably better. Maybe it will be like shots. Maybe it will hurt less if she doesn't look.

"You had such bold words before," she hears the masked man say. "But look—here's a child with ten times the backbone you have. Pay close attention, little hero. You might learn something."

She blinks again, and he stands over her. His hand comes down, and she shuts her eyes.

It's just like before, when the fake Deku tried to take her. It's like a breath of wind against her face, a cry of pain, and the sound of a struggle. She opens her teary eyes right as she's swept up off the ground, the masked man is no longer there and instead—

She's seen him almost as much as she's seen Deku, but not like this, in bright colors and a pretty red cape—not since that first day, when she ran barefoot through the streets into Deku's arms. Into safety.

He grins at her as he holds her out of the masked man's reach, strong and bright with no trace of fear. "Don't worry, Eri!" Lemillion tells her. "I've got this. You go with Deku, alright?"

She passes from his arms into Deku's and clings once she's there. Deku isn't on the floor anymore, but he's on his knees and still shaking while she presses close and watches Lemillion with wide eyes, listens to him tell Deku take her, get downstairs, there's backup, I'll handle this.

The masked man staggers up, and when he talks again he sounds breathless. "Well, this has been interesting. But I think it's time I took my leave."

And Lemillion grins, all white teeth and shining eyes. "Oh!" he says cheerfully. "Is that what you think is going to happen?"

That's all she sees before Deku carries her away and out of sight. Then Lemillion is gone, the masked man is gone, the fake Deku is gone, they're running away and there's safety up ahead. It's okay now. They're going to be okay.

So why won't Deku look at her? Why is he still crying?

It's only with the help of several ghosts that Izuku makes it to the safety of Togata's promised backup with Eri. There's no room in his mind for thoughts and directions, and hardly any room in his eyes for seeing the path ahead. When the tears finally blind him, he lets Rei hold on and tow him along, follows her static and the tug of her cold hands.

Magne is gone, Arai and the rest of Toga's victims are gone, and there's no sign of any more villains or their ghosts, just Nighteye's people. That is one of two reasons that Izuku doesn't fight and scream when someone tries to pull Eri from out of his arms.

The other reason is that he can feel himself rapidly unraveling.

The marble prison still surrounds him, suffocating and small as it closes around him and shuts him in a tiny void. The past few months may as well have been rewound, and he's back in Kamino, back in the warehouse, back in the woods, screaming as Compress traps him again. He can't fall apart yet, not with Eri there to see—

And what does that matter? some small part of him thinks viciously. She already saw you fold and cry. She already saw you almost give her up to the enemy without a fight.

The back of his throat tastes like bile and rot. His bones feel brittle, and his blood is ice water. He doesn't have long.

Someone—one of the medical staff (not Toga, Izuku checks and double checks the ghosts nearby, watches Eri's father for any sign of distress) finally takes her from him. She clings as she's taken, holding on to his sleeves until there's too much space between them for her arms to reach, and then she's gone and Izuku is alone, shuffled into another vehicle.

Bubble Girl is the one who slides in next to him, talks to him as he stares blankly straight ahead. As Nighteye's sidekicks go, Awata Kaoruko isn't bad; she's nice and she likes him, and he kind of likes her too. Her quirk is interesting and she's a good hero in every way. She's kind and sweet and her jokes are terrible. There are worse people to fall apart in front of.

It's too hard to hear what she's saying through the cotton-wool feeling in his ears, so he doesn't try. But he does look at her, and he does ask, "Is Eri gone? She can't see me?"

Awata frowns, looks out the car window, and shakes her head. She asks him something else—maybe she asks him if he wants to go see her when things settle, maybe she asks if he wants to ride in the same car with her.

"No, that's okay," Izuku tries to tells her, but his tongue locks in his mouth and won't let the words through. I just wanted to make sure she couldn't see.

The marble prison closes in, and Izuku lets himself crumble.