Chapter Text
Friday, 3rd January: 02:04 - Musutafu; border between industrial sectors and lower-class habitation areas.
Winter’s cries whistled through narrow alleys, tousling Izuku’s hair with careless gusts as he wandered along, long since numb to the sub-zero temperatures. For the third or fourth time, he regretted not grabbing a hoodie when he fled the house.
Idiot.
He shivered. It was dark, long past midnight, and the boy was dressed in little more than pyjamas. Truth be told, a coat and shoes were details very low on his list of priorities when he'd scrambled out the window over half an hour ago. As his leaden feet tripped over yet another raised slab, numb to sensation and about as useful as two crumbling bricks, Izuku mourned that particularly poor decision.
Inko followed, two steps behind, as always. She was clearer than usual tonight, her feet more strongly in this world - likely out of concern for him. He appreciated it, just as much as he appreciated her distance. They’d danced through this charade more than enough times over the years; she knew better than to push him by now.
Ghosts of hands whispered over his skin, squeezing and pressing in memory of shame, and Izuku shuddered.
Focus on the cold.
It was sound enough logic. Your nerves can’t remind you of events passed when they’ve been frozen out of commission. Your mind can't spiral over an awful situation if it's so fogged by exhaustion that it can only just remember how walking works. The nightmares can't trap you if you don't sleep. The itch beneath his skin, crawling with revulsion, was harder to ignore.
A tugging in his chest re-focussed his wandering mind, and Izuku paused in his half-hearted shamble, frowning slightly.
“There’s someone ahead,” he murmured, for Inko’s ears as much as his own. “I can feel them. They’re close.”
As if summoned by his words, metaphysical strings flickered into existence around his heart, tugging him onwards, towards the dimly-lit soul in the darkness ahead of them. Steeling himself, Izuku let the strings guide his numb body forwards, towards the poor soul dying in the cold.
His quirk worked in strange ways. He could sense the structure of every soul within his immediate vicinity, living as well as dead. Generally he shied away from any creature bright with life. Izuku had messed with more than one living soul in his lifetime, but he had long since swore to never do so ever again. One long day of regrets, never to be repeated. Dead and dying souls held far more interest, far more sway over his impulses. Guilt still lurked in the background, but it was lesser, here.
The woman was hard to spot at first. She was wrapped up tight, with a hat and a coat and thick trousers, a scarf pulled up around her face as she curled against a dumpster, evidently hoping for some meagre protection against the wind. On a night like this though, where the wind cut in a hundred directions and burrowed beneath even the thickest layers, she didn’t stand a chance.
Izuku drew closer, careful to relax his posture as much as he dared, unsure how much awareness the woman would retain this close to death. That she was close was undeniable. Her soul stirred around her body, fuzzing the edges and wavering, trembling on the verge of detaching entirely. Auras, visible only to Izuku's eye, flickered fitfully over her skin, the spirit within struggling to stay hooked to its own flesh. The sight never failed to send a chill through Izuku's bones, wrapping him in threads of melancholy as he watched nature take her course.
Once he was within arms reach, Izuku dropped to a crouch, ignoring the cold for a moment in favour of providing whatever comfort he could in her last minutes. The woman was little more than a girl herself, in her early twenties at most and thin as a rake. Wisps of black hair danced around her head in the omnipresent breeze, but her sunken eyes, discoloured skin and hollow cheeks presented health issues far deeper than hypothermia.
Had Izuku owned a phone, or access to one, he may have tried to be the hero. He could have tried running for help, or getting her to a warm place, or calling an ambulance to save her. Sometimes though, you couldn’t be that kind of hero. Sometimes you find a poor soul, lost and alone, and the best you can offer them is a guide into the darkness, a hand to hold as the night falls down.
It wasn’t heroic - Izuku knew that. He knew that what he did with people like the woman before him was barely a step above villainy, and yet he couldn’t help himself. Letting them die alone in favour of fighting for the slimmest chance that they might pull through seemed… wrong somehow. Being a monster who offered some small comfort was a thousand times better than being a passive bystander, just watching as innocent people suffered towards a lonely death.
All Might would fight. He would never resort to this, would always strive to save the day, no matter the odds.
Izuku had long since forgone pretending he was anything like All Might. Even a monster was capable of kindness.
Gulping away his nerves, the boy reached out a hand, holding the woman’s shoulder gently as he inched forwards. She didn’t move, and her breaths came shorter and faster with each passing moment.
“Hey there,” he murmured, unsure if she would be able to hear. Once she died, communication at the very least would become a little easier. “My name’s Izuku. I don’t know how you got out here... but I know you’re probably cold, alone... maybe a bit scared too.”
The vestiges of her soul flickered stronger, tendrils of bluish light reaching towards his hand.
“I can make the pain go away,” he murmured, shuffling forwards to cup her face. She was near freezing to the touch - body heat having long deserted her extremities. “You don’t have to be alone this time. I’ll be your guide.” The woman sighed gently, stirring only enough to lean her head slightly further into his hand.
“It’s so cold.” A murmur behind his ear, a young woman’s voice distinctly not belonging to Inko.
He probably wouldn’t get much better in terms of consent.
Bracing himself for the fallout, Izuku pulled with his quirk. The process, mercifully, was quick.
The blue and silver light of the woman’s soul swirled around his hand briefly, before shooting up his arm all at once and disappearing into his chest. The woman fell limp under his arms, her last few breaths coming in raspy bursts, a morbid sense of finality as her health decayed rapidly now that her soul had jumped ship. Unfortunately, Izuku had no opportunity to respect the body's final moments.
With a strangled gasp, he fell backwards, struggling to control the sudden onslaught of a new consciousness under his skin.
“What’s going on?” cried the voice in his skull, near deafening as it drew frantically on his own energy reserves. “Where am I? What happened?”
It always surprised him how quickly a consciousness could flip from almost nothing to relentless fury.
Grimacing in concentration, Izuku curled up, fighting to soothe the newest inhabitant of his mind without allowing her complete control. It had happened once or twice, in the early days. He’d pull a soul in and lose control for days at a time while a stranger ran rampant with his body, feeding off his energy like a starving lion on a feast of crows.
He had better control now, hadn’t lost autonomy in years, but that didn’t make the process of calming her down any easier.
“Listen to me,” He pleaded, conscious of Inko hovering only a few feet away. She would wait for his signal to intervene, which he was thankful for. “You were dying, out here in the cold. I only wanted to spare you doing it alone.”
“No! Take me back and leave me the hell alone, you bastard.” Her rage vibrated through his bones, and Izuku shuddered as he felt the emotions blend with his own, forcing his carefully maintained apathy into a simmering frustration.
“Breathe,” he muttered, for her benefit as much as for his own. He pulled his emotions back, trying to project at least a semblance of calm and comfort. “My name is Izuku. I’m sorry. I can’t put you back without sending you to your death as well. That’s always an option if you need, but,” he sighed, glancing over to where her body lay, still slumped against the dumpster. “Your body died about sixty seconds ago. I can’t bring that back for you. What I can do is help you transfer to the other side.”
“...I… I died?” The burning fury in the back of his mind wavered, uncertain and confused. New ghosts were often emotional, volatile and ruled by impulse. They resented the loss of autonomy, many falsely assuming some sort of authority over his body now that he had taken custody over their soul. Fortunately, if somewhat sadly, this soul did not have the strength of will to last against Izuku's long-practiced control.
Time for Inko to work her magic. Izuku gave her a nod as a young woman flickered into being beside him, the chaos of her emotional state slowly coalescing into the form of a pretty girl in her twenties, dressed in shorts and a strappy top despite the cold, yet draped in a deep melancholy as she distinguished herself from Izuku, beginning to acknowledge her new reality.
Weather had little effect on ghosts, but emotions were everything.
Inko dropped to the ground beside her, more faded than her younger ghostly counterpart, yet exuding motherly warmth despite her increased transparency.
“Hey sweetheart,” she cooed softly, tilting her head into the woman’s line of sight as she rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright. Izu-kun knows what he’s doing. He’s got a couple people like you nestled in that big heart of his, and once you’re all ready, he’ll be able to help you across to the peace you deserve.” A flicker of discontent flashed across her face as she murmured those last few words, but Inko did a good job of hiding her distaste.
She would never approve of his methods, but that didn’t undermine their necessity.
Speaking of, Izuku quested inwards while Inko and the woman (called ‘Kou’, his eavesdropping supplied) conversed softly, mentally examining his own capacity. No less than seven different consciousnesses rested in his body now - he was nearing his limit. Almost time to reset. They were calm souls, dozing for the most part, or silently observing the world from his perspective. Izuku had almost enjoyed the past few weeks since his last reset - it had been a long time since his skull had been so quiet.
Still, there was an end time to all things. He’d gotten lucky recently with his soul-findings. That wouldn’t last forever. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down, not even in his own mind.
As his numb hands started to fade from pink to white, Izuku recognised the tell-tale early signs of frostbite as a clear sign to wrap things up.
“Kou,” he interjected softly, interrupting her quiet description of her family - nice folk, but clearly unaware of their daughter’s nasty piece of work for a boyfriend, who had locked her out in the cold after a particularly unpleasant argument. “I need to get back. Inko will show you how sleeping works in your dimension, but I don’t recommend straying far from me if you insist on staying detached. It’s not really pleasant for either of us, now that I’ve locked onto your soul.”
That much, he knew from experience. Scared or upset children did brief runners from their parents all the time, dead or alive. Izuku learned quicker than most that such immature impulses didn’t work so well when said parent’s soul was irrevocably chained to yours.
Kou hesitated at the new information, before nodding in mute acquiescence and letting herself fade away under Inko’s murmured instruction.
Izuku hauled himself to his feet, his joints protesting rather noisily at the motion. He resisted the urge to attempt to massage away his pins and needles, growing increasingly conscious of the risk of further frostbite in his extremities if he stayed out here any longer.
“Come on mum,” he sighed, avoiding the reproachful looks she was sending his way. “Home time.” She wanted to tell him to go somewhere else. The words probably burned on her tongue - they certainly blazed behind her eyes when he made himself meet them - but wisely, his mother remained silent on her protests.
Gritting his teeth, Izuku spun on his heel, back towards the way he had come. As his aching feet stumbled into motion, he forced himself into a hasty shamble.
He had no desire to lose any fingers tonight.
“Why do you use the window to get into your own home?” Kou’s voice, hesitant yet curious, murmured from behind his ears.
Izuku ignored the question in favour of not slipping from the windowsill as his quivering arms pulled him through the tiny gap he’d allowed himself to make, into Sora’s room with all the grace of a drunken cat.
Her home was a small apartment halfway up one of Musutafu’s smaller tower blocks, standing a good hundred metres tall and making for a rather terrifying climb. The fire escape helped, but scaling window sills fifty metres above the ground could make even the bravest men a touch dizzy.
Izuku made no claims to the title of ‘brave’.
They were in a more run-down area of the city, meaning he was unlikely to run into heroes wondering what the hell some guy was doing clambering around the wrong side of a building’s walls. It also meant that at any moment, his handhold could crumble under his feet and give way, sending him hurtling to his death in a matter of seconds. As he straightened up, his heart finally stuttering back into its usual rhythm now that his death was a little less imminent, a more familiar voice sounded through his skull in response to Kou.
“Don’t pry into his life, kid. Just take the break for what it is and settle in for the long haul. You’ll get your peace soon. This world is no longer yours to concern yourself with." Hajime, an old butcher Izuku had picked up when the man collapsed of a heart attack on an abandoned road only two weeks ago. He’d been senile and confused in his twilight years, most of which had cleared up following his abrupt demise. Still, the man prided himself on never peering through Izuku’s eyes unless invited, something the boy appreciated to no end.
Sora was still asleep, thank god, one arm stretched over the bed space that Izuku had abandoned perhaps an hour before. The sight of her contentment, brown hair splayed carelessly across pillows, face relaxed as if she hadn’t been re-enforcing his worse nightmares mere hours prior, was sufficient to bring bile boiling up Izuku’s throat.
He turned away hurriedly, scourging his mind of too-fresh memories. First things first - he had a frostbite problem to deal with.
He slipped through the bedroom, out the door and down the hall to the guest bathroom, where Sora wouldn’t be able to hear the pipes running. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, prioritising quiet over efficiency as he hopped over the squeaky floorboards, dodged the occasional patches of broken glass (he’d need to remember to clean those up later, or he could wind up walking in them or worse), and slipped through the bathroom door.
It hung on its hinges and creaked dangerously when touched, but Izuku had long since learned to keep it open slightly ajar - not so much that he felt a person could barge in with no warning - but enough that his smaller frame could slip through without too much difficulty.
It wasn’t until he was sat in a shallow bath of lukewarm water, fully clothed in case Sora woke up and hands carefully submerged to offset the effects of frostbite, that the events of the past few hours finally began to catch up with Izuku.
He drew in a shaky breath, suddenly glad that his resident ghosts had settled down at last.
-
One hand cupped his jaw, the other holding his hip as Sora pressed him into the wall, breath coming warm and damp against his face as she hovered over him - like a lioness over prey, helpless to her whims.
“ Izuku,” she cooed, a sickly smile decorating her face, dark eyes holding his even as he ached to turn away. “What did I tell you about avoiding me? You’re not backing out of our agreement now, are you?”
-
He swallowed hard, barely conscious of the burning in his hands as they began to thaw, his reality swimming with recent memory in a sickening haze, thickening with every second that passed with his mind left too idle.
“Not now,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Come on Izuku, pull yourself together.” He needed an outlet - something else to focus on - and fast.
With automated movements, his breaths coming in faster as hazy flashbacks flitted behind his eyelids, Izuku groped through his pockets, searching for that little bit of metal that could set his nightmares free, banishing them to the corners of reality with stinging lines and beads of red.
He left the bathwater pink, hands trembling as he taped loose tissues around his biceps. The tiny blade was returned to his inside pocket, its purpose complete.
The world was sharper now to Izuku’s eyes, his heart rate calmed as he assessed his options with cold logic. Sora expected him to stay. She would be upset if he slept elsewhere, especially after she caught him staying out late one too many times this week. It’d be okay. He could stay in bed with her.
She never did anything in the mornings, anyway.
At least... Never anything like that.
He rubbed his arms, letting the flaring pain redirect his thoughts away from Sora’s groping hands and towards the exhaustion embedded in his bones. He could tolerate her proximity until the woman woke up again in a few hours. Then he’d make her breakfast; an apology of sorts for his recent avoidance, and a less obvious bribe for her to overlook future shortcomings. He’d let her fuss and pretend to love him, he’d play along and smile as if everything was okay. He’d keep her happy until he waved her off to work, the picture of a grateful roommate.
Then he could relax.
Looking in the mirror, Izuku let out a long breath. How she could tolerate, let alone desire, a face like his was something he’d never quite understand. At fourteen years old, he was short and still soft-featured, something that never quite abandoned him no matter how much weight he lost. His cheekbones and eye sockets were hollow and shadowed, tendons standing in stark contrast on his neck, clearly connected to his collarbones and shoulders. Izuku was all crooked lines and dark shadows; anxiety laying its mark in the set of his shoulder blades; depression haunting his eyes and slowing his movements.
His hair was limp and overly long - almost past his shoulder blades now, having gone years without a proper cut. Izuku tended to leave it tied back, brushed into a loose bun at the nape of his neck where Sora was less likely to pull it in her more playful moods.
He frowned at a bruise on his neck - too high up to hide under a hoodie. Maybe it was time to invest in a scarf. His friend at the library always got a bit funny when Izuku showed up scraped or bruised, even when the marks were more innocuously placed like this one. Somehow, Izuku suspected, they knew that he was lying about his home life. It was really only a matter of time before they got fed up enough to challenge him on it. Best to try to hold that day off for as long as possible.
With a decisive sniff, Izuku turned away from his reflection, using the sharp ache in his arms to ground himself as he squeezed back out the bathroom door and picked his way down the hall, towards Sora’s room.
Just don’t think about it. You’re going to bed.
Somehow, as he eased trembling limbs under the blanket, and Sora’s leaden arm fell back over his torso, holding him with a possession he would never truly be comfortable with - Izuku wondered just how much longer he could keep up this particular charade.