Chapter Text
Her heart ran rampant in her chest; she could hear her breathing quicken. The influx of memories scrambled her already jumbled thoughts. It was supposed to be over; the scenarios were long over. It’s been two years, how could her life fall back to shit. She could hear the destruction behind her, and even feel the overwhelming power of the 10th Akatani’s successor.
She could remember moments that were and weren’t hers. A life years ago, a worldline that was loved by another. She remembered the pang of jealousy and joy in her heart as those two grinned like idiots dressed in black and white suits respectively, the soul-crushing feeling of knowing that they’d be each others but her’s they’ll never be. The part that cried her heart out on the darkest of nights, knowing they shouldn't have been greedy. No, they should've been content with 49% of Shouto. How the memories of Kyōka Yaoyorozu who lived to write. How she loved a girl who knew Kyōka’s heart would never belong to her.
She looked back as the world went quiet.
He was tall and slender, with freckles and crimson eyes that shone in his destruction. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Him , but subtle differences set them apart. His eyes were cold and unyielding, unlike the familiar bright green ones with nine-prong stars that she knew so well. Those eyes had been hardened by a long and strenuous life, filled with sacrifices she could only know. Not malice and satisfaction at death.
Father and son were nothing alike, but the Prophet thought otherwise. Despite the similarities, the Regressor had a heart of gold. Once, despite how many years had passed, he was still a child at heart. He was only fifteen years old and too young to become a monster.
She sneered at the man, words flowed with the pain of the ten lives she prophesied in her writing. Kyōka Jirou was many things, someone who gave up wasn’t on the list. Black flames flickered in her hand as a legacy burned. The man was at her, held in the air by her throat she could only spit in his face.
As she felt the pain of her throat being squeezed and saw black spots covering her vision, she could only recall the last message she got.
---
Ready for a redo, let’s begin 'Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint'. - Constellation, Endless Voyage
~*~
The sound of raindrops hitting the ground echoed through the cemetery as Katsuki sat in front of a grave. He never thought he would find himself here, not in a long time. It was a nightmare he never wanted to experience, especially after the first few weeks of school. But here he was, two weeks after it all happened. Two weeks since he pushed Izuku Midoriya over the edge, or rather two weeks since he put the idea in his head. It was a Monday when it happened, and now it was Friday. The funeral occurred on Wednesday afternoon, but Katsuki found himself back at the cemetery again. He stared at the grave, unsure of what to do. It was the final resting place of his childhood best friend, the boy he had tormented since the diagnosis.
Katsuki sat motionless in front of the grave. The rain was pouring down relentlessly, creating a sombre atmosphere. Suddenly, he noticed a shadow reflecting off the grave. He turned to see a boy standing beside him, holding an umbrella over his head. The boy was around the same age as Katsuki, with straight white hair and a slight curl at the ends. The rain made it seem like his hair was straight, but Katsuki noticed the curls upon closer inspection. The boy had a soft smile on his face that reminded him of Izuku's gentle smile. The boy's green eyes were the same shade as Izuku's but with a unique difference. Instead of pupils, the boy had nine-pronged stars in each eye. The boy even had freckles like Izuku. It was uncanny how much he resembled his childhood friend. Katsuki wondered if he was hallucinating or if there was something more to this strange encounter.
“It’s not your fault, Kacchan.”
Katsuki was startled, looking at the boy. He knew... he knew he had caused Izuku’s suicide.
“I don’t blame you.”
Katsuki froze before his head snapped towards the boy, who slowly walked away. He wanted to call out, demand what he meant, but he already knew. That boy was Izuku, and that was his ghost. Because it couldn't be anyone else, he felt dumb after all that it was De- Izuku, and he didn't realise until the fact was thrown in his face. Midoriya Izuku was alive and Katsuki was taking that secret to the grave.
~*~
He shot up, and he felt the phantom pain of hitting concrete. Blood was running down his face, and bright red eyes wide from the edge of that ever-looming building. His eyes went back into focus. They shone brightly with nine-prong stars. His eyes drifted to the coffee table, a set of clothes and a note placed on top. His eyes drifted to thigh tops and red high-tops. His expression became grim as he looked at the gakuran uniform he wore.
The uniform reminded him of everything he hated about himself, every reason he had let himself fall. But now wasn’t the time to hate himself, he could do that at the funeral. Let Midoriya Izuku be put to rest and have Akatani Mikumo be reborn.
~*~
She stared at the TV in annoyance, it had only been a week and he was already on the news. Shoto Todoroki ran away, it was a scandal. After all the allegations against Endeavour, he lost custody of the remaining Todoroki children. But after the incident, he got it back. Now with Shoto gone, the allegations are back again. She hoped Himura had a plan that didn’t involve him sacrificing himself.
After figuring out a plan for the latest stunt, she’ll need to figure out how to get in contact with the duo.
~*~
Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi was tired, more so than ever. Two weeks ago, the son of Endeavour, Shouto Todoroki, went missing, followed by the incident with Izuku Midoriya. Not even a week later, Kyoka Jirou went missing. He was in charge of the Todoroki case while Sansa was in charge of the Jirou case. And then, a vigilante calling themself Salvation showed up. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe it was bad luck, but he didn't believe that. He believed in facts and hard evidence, so it couldn't be a coincidence, and he had a feeling Salvation had something to do with it.
~*~
Moya Jū-Hoshizora was not satisfied with what he saw. Bakugou Katsuki was depressed, and it wasn't as entertaining for him as he had hoped. Moya knew what Katsuki had done to Shishō, and he was not happy about it. Although Shishō might have forgiven Katsuki a few times, those were complicated situations. The fact that Shishō could have died before they met properly made Moya very angry.
But now was the time for Moya to be a good Samaritan and give a speech about hope and other inspiring things. Although Shishō was a bad influence, the vestiges were not any better. Moya's golden eyes, with ten-prong stars, glowed as he smiled, and so did the face of the figure that grabbed him.
~*~
Kinzoku didn’t want to be a soldier anymore, not for the HPSC. He grew up in their program, just like Hawks and Lady Nagant. His quirk wasn't Steel, nor was his name Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu. Who names their kid Iron Iron and has it repeat? Kinzoku Tetsuyama was a kid who grew up in a random apartment in Kabukichō, one of Japan's red-light districts. His quirk, Steelsmith, allows his body to become steel and transform his limbs into most bladed weapons. He could even turn into a sword! But after an act of public quirk use, his older sister sold him off to the Commission as protection from the Doctor, hoping it’d keep him away from the man who worked with their mother.
When he was sent to UA, he wasn’t surprised. The Commission always wanted the rat and his school in their hands. When he read the file of who he’d be for the unforeseeable future, he was upset. They could have just said he could make parts of his body into weapons, it would be so much easier.
So when he got into UA, he was shocked at the liveliness of his yearmates. He hadn’t been around such excitement since his recruitment. Did none of these posers understand what they were signing up for? Only the Todoroki and Iida boys understood, mostly Todoroki. But his eyes were open during the sports festival. Shouto Todoroki vs Izuku Midoriya was a sight to be seen. If Todoroki was still in the hands of his mother's family, he’d be just like Kinzoku, a weapon. And then there was Midoriya. He would make quite the weapon. He moved like a pro at times, but his eyes were always glazed over like it was his subconscious. Whatever it was, the Commission wanted him. But he was likely All Might’s kid, so it was a pipe dream.
But then the scenarios hit and his cover was blown, but it didn’t matter anymore. It was the apocalypse and he was too busy fighting demon kings and Greek gods to care about secret identities.
But he found himself back in the place he had dreaded for five long years and it was like reliving the nightmare all over again. He was fifteen and desperately needed to find the others. First, the children, and then the rest. He knew where to start. Izumi Kota was probably still living with his uncle while Tenko's whereabouts remained unknown, most likely still connected to Tomura. The situation was a mess, and being dropped five years into the past was a nightmare. Half a decade in the scenarios was a long time, and he couldn't do it alone. He needed help but doubted that Akatani would return to UA, let alone go anywhere near All Might.
But he knew there was someone left, someone he knew that could help, and it wasn't Himura. He would say he was lucky that Mera was part of Dekuto, and Giran was still a sly bastard who was loyal to Dekuto.
~*~
As he stood on the building, the sound of the subway echoed through his ears, a constant and familiar background noise in the city. Despite the distraction, his thoughts were focused on the task at hand. He needed to return to Mikumo soon, but something caught his attention. Glancing down at the alley below, he saw three figures engaged in what appeared to be a mugging. His instincts kicked in and Without hesitation, he made a split-second decision to jump down into the alley. He’d shot forward, grabbing the gun and backhanded them in the face. Grabbing the back of his head and slamming his head into his knee. Bringing him up and slamming his head into the wall.
He spun on his heel, slamming his steel-toed boots onto the other mugger’s face. The man collapsed into a heap on the floor. He turned to the woman, but she was gone. He tied the men up and stood at the sound of approaching sirens.
In a sudden motion, black wings spread from his back, revealing themselves in all their glory. He turned his gaze upwards, staring intently at the sky above. His white coat, now billowing behind him, created a striking contrast against the darkness of his wings. The intensity of his heterochromatic eyes seemed to intensify, as he took a deep breath and readied himself. And then, without warning, he shot into the sky like a speeding bullet.
Shouto was tired, 9873... 1864... 999... were numbers to others but for the Director, the Puppet, and the King it was lifetimes.
Shouto Himura-Todoroki was tired.