50

Chapter Text

When originally following Midoriya back through the trenches, Shimura had called out to him. She'd yelled at him, soon screaming, even throwing her hands out, watching as they passed directly through him without notice. She stood to block Midoriya's path, only to have him, as well as a trail of strangers, walk through her, as if she didn't exist. Which, she supposed, to most of them, she didn't.

It had been about that time that she'd gotten a good look at the man, or, should she say, boy. Sucking in a breath, she studied the face, youthful, familiar and wrong. He couldn't have been more than fifteen, and his eyes. His eyes were nothing like what she was used to. Still tired, still calculating, but there was warmth. A spark. They weren't the eyes of her Midoriya.

Shimura's eyes followed him as he continued on, leaving her behind without so much as a glance, and with few other choices, she turned and trailed behind him, deeper into the trenches.

…

The meeting room was tense and quiet, the silence a razor's edge from breaking. The gentle padding footsteps of the diminutive president distinguished themselves in the silence as he stepped up to the table. Much of the hero faculty that had responded to the incident was in attendance, alongside both Kurose and Sekijiro.

"Ahem. As I am certain many of you witnessed at the USJ, we have had a breach of security."

"A breach of security? Bullshit. This is a clusterfuck." Nedzu sighed before glancing over at Hizashi.

"Yes, it is a breach of security. However, you are also right. Clusterfuck is a good word for it. Let's start with Shuzenji, shall we? Could you give us the status of the students?" The silent question of whether they had lost any of them hung heavy in the already tense air.

"Well, let's start with the fact that I don't have Honenuki or Shishida's statuses. Both were life-flighted to Musutafu General after they were pulled from the flood and conflagration zones, respectively. I can request that information after this meeting." The venerable nurse looked as if she hadn't slept that night. It was quite possible that she hadn't. "The rest of the students that required medical attention were able to be treated at the student hospital here on campus. A good opportunity for them, if under awful circumstances."

"That is good."

"With all due respect, sir, we 'ave two students in critical care, and that's good?" Sekijiro shook his head slowly. The blood loss had made him lethargic now that the adrenaline was out of his system, his skin pallor sickly from anemia.

"You weren't there, Snipe. Only two kids in critical is good news." Silence followed, broken abruptly by the president.

"Yes, well, the media won't see it that way. But that is a conversation for later. Shuzenji?" Again, the nurse sighed.

"Let's start with Kaminari."

…

The medical technicians had released him to go back to the dorms fairly quickly. It was just a bad case of quirk overuse. Rest and recuperate. Quirk overuse. He had gotten away with quirk use while Honenuki…

A fist cracked into the wall, dust pluming and just as quickly fleeing down the drain. Lightning crackled across his body, even as he dully registered that it was his own fist that had broken the tile. That it was his own fist now bleeding into the water.

The horror on Asui's face as his consciousness trickled back to him, the raw desperation on Itsuka's as she straddled Honenuki, the dull resignation in Nirengeki's eyes as he leaned against the wall.

Another tile broke as he slid down and curled into the bottom of the shower stall atop the jagged shards. He cried and would remain there even after the water trickled into cold.

…

"Itsuka, Asui, and Nirengeki were with him, as well. They did well and applied our rescue lessons proficiently. Exhaustion at worst for them. They'll be fine."

…

Asui sat in the corner of her room feeling like her throat was clogged with spit. She stared at her hands. She was never good with emotions. They had been muted for so long that when they hit her like this, she didn't know what to do with herself. She couldn't stay still, couldn't seem to keep her mind off…

The image of Honenuki's still body, the feeling of his ribs breaking under her hands. The lightning coursing across the water. What would have happened if I were... Asui felt her throat tighten and tasted the bile before her head was in the trash can.

Her skin buzzed and her head swam. She couldn't seem to breathe, she couldn't. She just couldn't seem to breathe.

…

Itsuka knocked on Nirengeki's door. He hadn't come out since they had been dismissed by the medical tech. She needed something to do, anything right now.

There wasn't any response from Nirengeki's room.

She felt her hands twitch before she tightened them into fists and took a deep breath. Rikido was stress-baking downstairs, she thought. She'd go do that. Yeah, she'd go help Rikido.

…

"We got lucky with a few of the students. Those at the entrance alongside Kurose were able to not only hold their own but get away relatively unscathed." Kurose grimaced.

"Only because Midoriya stopped me from using my quirk. I have multiple questions." Kurose was first and foremost a pacifist. She didn't like fighting or anything involving it. She was a rescue hero for a reason. The loss of life at the USJ was abominable, but still. But still... If it hadn't been for him… So many villains are dead, though…

"Are they pertinent at this stage?" Most of the staff raised an eyebrow at the president's question. He seemed almost… apprehensive to answer. Kurose simply stared at the rat.

"Why did Midoriya know the villains in question, and why are we not discussing that we have students that seem happy to take lives?" Nedzu seemed to relax at the questions. Were they not the ones he was expecting?

"What I am about to say does not leave this room, and you will all be signing NDAs at the conclusion of this meeting. Snipe, you already know this. Go print out the agreements." The president waited for the cowboy to exit the room before he continued. "Midoriya often works with both police and underground heroes as an information broker. Where he gets his information is unknown, even to those who work with him, but it is generally both complete and accurate."

That got a reaction out of most of the staff. Varying levels of shock, disdain, or interest showed across the room. A select few heroes had been told before of course in the teachers lounge. Midnight and Kurose, for example, knew that he was an information broker. But the argument needed to be made again. "Excuse me? Why was this not disclosed to the staff when he entered the school?" Midnight appeared livid even if it were for the sake of her fellow staff.

"Because he is my student, not yours." The cold smile on the president's muzzle had the room freezing, reminded just exactly who they had chosen to work for. "As it stands, there are three members of staff that do know the exact details of this arrangement. Had I decided that more needed to know, you would have been informed." It was an apathetic response that had Kurose's fist stiffening on top of the table. Before she could open her mouth to respond, the president continued.

"Before you ask, yes, we will be questioning Midoriya once he awakens from the major invasive surgery he needed to undergo after protecting the students and your fellow faculty. The students who took lives will also be questioned. But for now, that is hardly our priority." Kurose's teeth clenched, though she remained silent. The question of where the villains had found a class six warp quirk was left unsaid. A quick nod to Shuzenji.

"Yes, well, Tsunotori was experiencing extreme keratin deficiency when she was brought in. Uraraka and Tokage both are suffering from multiple lacerations and breaks but will recover. Rikido and Fukidashi are experiencing symptoms from quirk overuse but will recover, as well."

"Then moving onto the landslide zone…"

"From the landslide zone, we have an issue. Todoroki escaped with a few scrapes, but the same cannot be said for the others.

…

Todoroki remained still in his seat beside Hagakure's bed. She had finally fallen asleep after the doctors had upped her painkillers and sedated her. Todoroki's eyes trailed dimly over the bandages on Hagakure's feet and calves.

When he'd landed on that mountain, he had simply frozen the area. He hadn't thought about the consequences. He hadn't thought about his classmates getting caught in the crossfire. He hadn't even considered the amount of damage he could do.

Hypothermia, a key part of the trauma triad of death. The words echoed in his head on repeat, like a mocking specter. Todoroki could only hang his head. He had frozen Hagakure a quarter of the way up her legs. He had done that, and she had still torn her legs out of the ice to save him. He felt like throwing up when he saw the scans of the damage done to her lower body. Entire regions of skin were torn from her feet and legs to kill to save him. She had been lucky that she hadn't bled out from her feet with that stunt.

Todoroki felt himself shudder and twitch as the door opened and two of the Class B members were wheeled into the room. More shame for him. Tsuburaba and Kaibara had been trapped in a frozen cave under his ice. Unable to escape through the thick block, the two had simply bunkered down and waited to be rescued. It took two hours in that subzero cave for them to be rescued.

Todoroki couldn't look them in the eyes, wouldn't be able to stand what he might find there if they were awake. Shame kept his gaze on his hands. Perhaps, he mused, perhaps it wasn't his quirk that was cursed. Just him.

…

Kuroiro hadn't been able to extract Komori from his side since they'd been rescued from the hellish unending rain. That was fine with him. Her presence was as much of a comfort for him as he was for her. He could live with her presence. Had they been rescued? Was it a rescue when every threat was dead? He could still see them even now that they were back in the dorms. The look on their faces, the horror, the pain, the realization that they were going to die.

He could still see their eyes burning into his, burning into the back of Komori's head. The anger and the accusations. They were supposed to be heroes, and yet here their opponents had died. Komori had finally sobbed herself into a fitful sleep. He was sure that she could still feel their eyes as much as he could see them. The sound of rain rang in his ears, the feeling of concrete hard under him and against his back. They were still there, still in that unending rain. Why hadn't they been rescued yet?

…

Tokoyami just felt drained and numb. He had killed so many. The feathers that he had finally smoothed down fluffed up again, much to his annoyance. Or, it would have annoyed him if there were anything left in him to be annoyed. Instead, with shaking hands, he once again started poking his feathers back into place. One by one, he preened, and one by one, the feathers went awry.

Dark Shadow usually helped him with his preening, saying that it helped calm them both. He suspected after the fight that they'd had, Dark Shadow wouldn't be helping him with much of anything for a while. It could also have been the 5000-lumen bulbs that he had turned on throughout the room. Tokoyami couldn't stand to see their other half right now. Even if Dark Shadow had argued that they never wanted to go into heroics.

Even if Dark Shadow had done what was necessary to keep them alive.

…

Monoma couldn't bring himself to move from beside Ashido. Ashido Mina. He had found out who she was after they had escaped from the USJ. Quirk: Acid. Too late, he had learned her quirk. A shuddering breath had him pulling a trash can closer to him again.

He hadn't been able to get that awful smell out of his nose. The smell of liquified and burnt human flesh, of seared hair. Monoma felt himself retching again. They were dead before they had hit the ground, he was certain, but the speed of the act didn't make him feel any better.

His quirk had always been a curse growing up, the way people had treated the copycat, but this. This. He had never considered his quirk a dangerous one, and look at what he had done with it when he was cornered. He preached how he was better than 1-A, but looking at how the others in that fiery hell had acted, he couldn't be sure.

Did smoke inhalation stop Shinso? Sero's tape had caught fire, he recalled, burning his elbows and arms as the intense heat surged up, claiming possession over everything in its path. They had fought like the devil was hunting for them. Without thought, without concise decision, they had continued to fight until the end. And what had he done when he was cornered? What had been the great Monoma's reaction to being unable to use his quirk? To kill someone with the first ability he could latch onto.

Ashido still hadn't woken up, but the doctors were feeling positive about her chances. That was great. So why didn't it feel great? Because it was his failure that had put her here.

…

"We did not see too many issues to speak of from the other two zones. Midoriya was able to pull the group from the ruins zone without too much fuss, and Yaoyorozu treated their injuries well. They're exhausted with a few cuts and scrapes, aside from Yanagi, who has a rather severe concussion. The mountain zone group suffered a few broken bones but ultimately made it out unscathed." The faculty let out a sigh at the extensive list of injuries. The president hummed, folding his paws together in front of himself.

"Hound Dog, I am afraid you are going to be busy with this year's hero course. Make sure that you push for multiple sessions with the students that terminated someone during this incident. You humans are far more squeamish about these kinds of things." The faculty tensed at the casual comment. "Oh, and make doubly sure that you corner Midoriya into a session. Understood?"

"I'll do what I can, sir, but I have no interest in forcing students into coming and seeing me."

"Do as you will. Now, onto the next topic, the dead."

…

Shimura had long since followed Midoriya back into the bunker that he seemed to call home. Calling it home was generous, of course, even by her own standards. When she had been fighting in the Urbans, her unit had building-hopped all the time. Sometimes, it would be rubble one day, the next, they would luck into a climate-controlled office space.

But never, never had she or hers had to live in such squalor. The room was little more than a small hole dug into the side of the already sordid trench outside. Six men were crammed into a space they shared with rats, lice, mosquitos, and some kind of horrid large biting fly.

Still, the men seemed to be in good spirits. After all, it seemed that not all of the men had rooms of their own, even to share. It wasn't uncommon that Shimura stepped out into the trenches just for a breath or a moment to herself and would find men sleeping against the legs of their fellows, keeping watch over the lip of the pit.

Everyone, Midoriya included, spoke in a language foreign to her, and no matter the amount of effort or focus, she simply couldn't seem to get a grasp on it. She'd always heard people say that immersion was the best way to learn a new language. That assumed, of course, that you had some kind of starting point in the language, or at least someone there to help you parse through the unfamiliar vocabulary.. What little Shimura did understand came from Midoriya's obsessive habit of journaling when he came in from watching over the trench. It was a miracle that despite whatever it was he was speaking, he still wrote in Japanese, though her brief stolen glances over the pages told her relatively little about where they were.

The first time that the men living with Midoriya pulled off their masks to eat had been a shock for her. She had wondered, initially, what, or perhaps where, the men's quirks were. Having only ever lived in a society saturated with the casual use of these extraordinary abilities, she had been quick to notice their absence here. But knowing that she was somewhere far away from her home was different than seeing it undeniably in these strangers, in their otherness. The pointed ears of the man closest to Midoriya, it seemed, had indicated something that even Shimura didn't want to admit as a possibility.

She had thought that she had seen the worst of what life was like here. She really had thought that after she'd witnessed the rolling white fog bank that burned the skin and lungs of those soldiers that weren't quick enough on the uptake. That's what they were, soldiers. She couldn't mistake that now, not after she'd watched the men come charging out of the cloud, only to be cut down by a ring of gunfire.

She'd thought that she'd seen the worst of life here until the explosion inside the trench had sent her skittering back into a wall. Until she had seen the shell-shocked face of Midoriya, dull and glassy-eyed, trying to stuff the elf's guts back into his nonexistent lower half. A whistle blew, a whistle that Shimura had long taken note of and dismissed. The men went up, over the ladder, after that whistle blew. They went over and very rarely did they come back.

Shimura had disregarded the whistle because Midoriya hadn't gone over the trench at the sound, though time and time again, his group had tensed up as it was blown As if it were a demented god bestowing death upon its followers.

That's why when Midoriya picked up his ally's weapon and pulled himself over the lip of the trench, Shimura was sent scrambling after him. It's why, when she reached him again in the trench across from theirs, she missed the opening salvo wreaking havoc in the enemy's lines. She'd missed Midoriya getting a knife stuck in his shoulder and had missed when he'd dug out the man's eyes before clubbing him with the weapon in his hands.

Shimura felt it unfortunate that she didn't miss what came next, Midoriya walking through the trench, unloading shells from what she now understood to be a shotgun into men far too close for the weapon.

Shimura was there when he ran out of shells and received two bullets from an officer's pistol in his chest. She was there, sick, as he clubbed the man's head in with the butt of the shotgun before discarding the weapon and taking the man's firearm to continue his way deeper into the trenches.

Four bullets, two knives, and a bayonet were stuck in Midoriya's frozen form. The man he'd been strangling in the shadow of the imposing artillery piece was stuck in a seemingly unending state of dying. For the first time, Shimura looked at Midoriya's still face and felt her heart break. Fear, pain, fury. All present, all justifiable. But most prevalent was sorrow, as tears ran down his face.

When Shimura looked up from the frozen figures, she found an older man, also Midoriya, she realized with startling clarity, staring at her from his seat on a discarded ammo crate.

Notes:

Warnings for:

PTSD

Panic Attacks

Medical Trauma

General Trauma

Trauma <-------- Really can't emphasize this one enough.

Anxiety

Depression

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