MHA: Undying

(Izumi)

I stare up at the now familiar ceiling, thinking back on how I ended up here. The verbal abuse. The physical abuse. How me ignoring Izuku at home led to me not realizing that our parents were also ignoring him. All the regrets I have.

No… I started having regrets about what I was doing a long time ago. Before Bakugou suicide baited him. Before I would wrap his injuries and bring him home after finding him passed out somewhere, apologizing all the while even knowing it would happen again. Before middle school. Before he met Shoko. I’ve had regrets ever since I stopped acting like his sister.

I just buried them under the flimsy justification that it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as what would happen if he tried to become a hero. I always held the shovel that would have let me dig them up, to stop and act like the sister I should have been. But I let someone else hold onto it too.

Bakugou’s hands were on the shovel. He didn’t try to take my hands off of it, he didn’t even hold it tightly. But the fact that he was there, the fact that I would have to pull away from him to let myself realize just how badly I wanted to stop.

“I think… that I was scared.” I whisper.

“What scared you?” She asks gently.

I swallow. “That I’d lose the only friend I had. Even if I had stopped, I don’t think that Bakugou would have. He might have even started doing worse to him.” I let out a self deprecating snort at the thought. “Not that things didn’t end in the worst possible way.”

She holds out a tissue to me, and I use it to dry some of the tears that have leaked out. “And you didn’t think that your brother would have forgiven you.” It’s not a question, but I nod all the same.

“Things had gotten bad. Even though you helped me come clean with the detective about everything we did to him, I don’t think they really understand. Even my parents, when I told them about him covering up the scars we gave him, they just told me that it’s ok.”

I accept another tissue and hold both of them against my eyes as the tears won’t stop. “They acted like it wasn’t my fault. Like I wasn’t one of the biggest reasons he jumped. Like he wouldn’t have blamed me.”

“Would he?”

I choke out a laugh as the tissues are overwhelmed, a stream of tears now flowing steadily past them. “That’s the worst part. He wasn’t the type of person to hate others. No matter what we did to him, he’d never look angry. Just sad. Any time I saw him when he wasn’t with Shoko he was sad. I’m the reason he was always sad!”

My breathing starts to come in quick bursts, the now familiar signs of me starting to hyperventilate being curbed when my therapist places her hand on my own. A calm feeling flows up my arm and to my chest, slowly returning my breathing to normal.

I swallow back the bile that wanted to come out, something that the trash can next to me can attest is also something that’s become familiar. “Thank you.” I whisper.

“Of course, Izumi. I’m here so you can come to terms with everything and heal. It’s a bit hard to do that with the smell of vomit though, which is why I’m glad you agreed to allow my quirk to be used in our sessions.” I don’t look at her, still just staring at the ceiling, but I can hear the smile in her slightly joking tone.

Her quirk, Calming Touch, does exactly what it’s named for. When she touches someone, she can send them feelings of calmness. It’s not strong though, so if other feelings are strong enough it can be fought off. Hence the can.

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I recenter myself. “Ok. I can continue.” I swallow. “I don’t think he would have hated me. At least, not until that day. But he also never would have given up on his dream. I would know.” A small sardonic smile appears, one that disappears as I continue.

“But when things got to be too much for him? When the hero he admired the most told him his dream was unattainable? The brother I knew wasn’t capable of hating anybody. But the one who jumped? I think that he deserved to stop holding himself back, to let himself hate the people who put him there.”

I finally look away from the ceiling, meeting my therapist’s hazel eyes with my blue ones. “So yes, I think that he would have blamed me. He would have blamed all of us. And I’m glad he did. None of them are casting blame, even though we all deserve it. So the thought of him blaming us from wherever he ended up makes me happy. He doesn’t need to hold himself back anymore.”

She’s silent, casting a quick glance at the clock to gauge the time. She’s not wondering how much longer I’m here, or rather, she is, but not in the way most people would. She’s not thinking of when she can go home, but which of my issues she can address in the time we have left. She has a hero’s heart, always wanting to help. Just like Izuku…

She sighs, seeing that we’re just about out of time for the day. Still though, she’s kind enough to send me off with some last bit of advice as I stand. “You are trying to change for the better. You are making progress. I think that he’d be proud of how far you’ve come from who you were when you first walked in here.”

I smile sadly as I drop the tissues in the trash can. As I pull my jacket from the rack next to the door, I whisper, “Too bad he isn’t here to say that himself.”

I’m gone before she can respond, not that I want her too. I deserve to feel like this, I deserve to suffer just like he did. But I’m a coward,

I think as I make my way to the place I’m doing my community service at.

If I wasn’t, then I’d be making sure I feel the same things he felt every day for years. Thoughts of how I should have been better, of how he deserved better than someone like me swirl in my head, and before I know it, I’m at Trash Beach. It’s the nickname everybody gave it since it basically became a landfill. But I’ve definitely made some progress.

I look on at the section of the beach I’ve managed to get clean with some pride, my mood lifting just a bit. I’m glad that Dad managed to get this place to count for my community service. Once it’s clean, it’s going to be beautiful.

Speaking of Dad, I can see him in his normal form over by the dock. I send him a wave which he returns. He sits on his chair as he watches me clean, shouting suggestions while he does.

Things have… changed, since that day. And it only got worse when I helped bring everything to light. The house is a lot quieter, and our meals that were once filled with lively conversation are now eaten in silence. Mom tries to get us talking while we eat, but it rarely lasts long. Honestly, while what happened clearly affected Dad and me, it feels like she hasn’t been affected at all.

I hate it.

Bakugou is another person who hasn’t changed, though his situation has, from the way his mom tells it when she comes over. Apparently Masaru isn’t letting either him or Auntie curse in the house anymore, though he hasn’t been able to do anything for either of their shouting. He set up a couple of swear jars for anytime either Bakugou or Auntie mess up, and he thinks that he’ll have enough to go on a personal vacation soon.

As for my own relationship with Bakugou… Well, there isn’t one. Not anymore. After I came clean about how bad things were, he got mad and shouted about how I was ‘selling him out’ and ‘looking down on him’. After that we haven’t really interacted anymore. And I think that’s for the best. I was lonely for a while, but have managed to make a couple of friends at my new school that have helped me to realize what a toxic person he is.

Speaking of, Aldera has been closed down, with Principal Nezu helping to get most of the students enrolled in other schools as quickly as possible. Well, for the ones that didn’t get arrested at least. When everybody was investigated, it was revealed that some of them had actually committed crimes beyond what they were doing at school to Izuku. So they got sent to youth detention centers.

Most of the teachers were arrested as well due to encouraging and sometimes participating in Izuku’s abuse, as well as allowing the students unrestricted use of their quirks. The few who were found to have done their best to oppose and change the school were found jobs elsewhere, to which they were incredibly grateful for.

Shoko vanished, and I haven’t heard anything regarding how she’s doing. It’s only expected though, it’s not like she would have any reason to reach out to us. She has every right to hate us, and it’s not like we were friends anyways. I only hope that she won’t do anything that she’ll regret. I know just how much it eats away at you.

The rest of the day passes like that, with me cleaning the beach both physically, and with my quirk. Dad told me that he got permission for me to use it so I wouldn’t get in trouble, which I appreciate. It turns out that cleaning this place is great training, and I’m confident that when the time comes I’ll be more than ready for the UA entrance exam. I just hope that Bakugou is making progress with his own therapy so that I can actually take it…

[You don’t deserve it. You aren’t a hero, and you shouldn’t pretend that you are.]

I know…

[Why are you even trying? You’ll just end up hurting someone the same way you hurt your brother.]

No… I won’t make the same mistake!

[Aww, someone’s in denial. Remember the nicknames you two had for each other?]

Stop it…

[Zuzu and Zizi! The future hero duo of Midoyume!]

Shut up…

[But that didn’t happen, now did it? The nicknames stopped after he was diagnosed as quirkless. The dream is dead. Hey! How about Yumekira for your new fake hero name! Dream Killer~, Dream Killer~.]

SHUT UP!

I crush a dilapidated washing machine into a crumpled ball, using the sound of screeching metal to try and drown out the voice.

[Because that’s what you are. Your entire family killed his dreams, so he decided that he might as well follow. It’s. All. Your. Fault.

]

“I know…” I whisper.

I work the rest of the day in silence, finally getting my mood back to normal by the time the sun begins to set. I’ve long gone past the time required for my community service this week, but I need to do something to show that I can be helpful. Something to prove to myself that I can be a hero.

Normally dad would take the both of us home for dinner now, but he holds up a hand to stop me from heading to the car. Curious, I watch him take a deep breath. “You know that I’m really All Might, and you know about my injury, but you don’t know the whole truth. You don’t know about my quirk.”

I breathe in sharply, my eyes going wide. Even after he revealed himself as All Might, and a month later Mom told me the truth about her quirk and being Cufflink. But even then, Dad never talked about his quirk, always seeming sad whenever it was brought up.

“My quirk’s name is One For All, and it’s special among all other quirks.”

I hold back the urge to roll my eyes. No two quirks are exactly the same, so of course it’s special. All quirks are special! But when he continues, I feel as if someone poured a pool’s worth of cold water on me. I shiver, I freeze, my entire body stiffens in shock.

“My quirk can be passed down to someone else, outside of them simply being born with it. I can transfer my quirk to someone else.”

I say nothing, my mind racing. My thoughts jumbled into a ball with nothing making sense. Only for them all to crumple at his next words.

“I want you TO INHERIT MY QUIRK.” He says as he goes into his All Might form and plucks a hair from his head. “EAT THIS, AND THE POWER OF THE NUMBER ONE HERO WILL BE YOURS!”

I don’t reach out for it. I don’t move at all, my face shadowed as I stare at the ground. After five minutes, he clears his throat and prompts me with the hand still holding it, wanting me to take it.

Finally, I move. My hands clench into fists, I wrap them in my telekinetic power -a new trick I’ve managed to do to reinforce my body- and swing upwards. My fist buries itself in my father’s gut, going deeper than it should due to him missing some of his internal organs. But I’m too pissed to think about that.

As he drops to his knees, reverting to his normal form with an expulsion of blood, I growl at him, my eyes literally glowing with rage. “You’ve had a quirk that can be passed on this entire time! And you didn’t think to give it to your quirkless son! Or even mention that it’s a fucking option!”

He struggles to his feet, one arm across his stomach as he tries to stammer out a reply. I talk over the pathetic attempts at justifying himself. “DO YOU NOT REALIZE HOW MUCH YOU COULD HAVE PREVENTED IF WE HAD KNOWN!? HE WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN BULLIED! I WOULDN’T HAVE BULLIED HIM! HE COULD HAVE BEEN A HERO! WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU NOT TELL US THIS!?”

He swallows, clearing the blood dribbling down his chin with his sleeve. “I-I-I didn’t want him to end up like me. You’ve seen my injury! I didn’t want to have to see him suffer the same way!”

My mind latches onto the first thing he said, and a horrifying feeling washes through me. “Dad… you said that your power can be given away.” My words are a whisper as I take a step forward, and he takes a step back. “Was your quirk given to you by someone else?” Another step forward, another step back. “Were you quirkless?”

A final step has him bumping into the stairs of the pier and falling backwards onto them, one hand held up as if to ward me off. “Y-y-yes, I was, but that’s not important now! I regret not giving him One For All before, but I’ve seen how hard you’re working to be someone he could have been proud of! That’s why I want you to have it now! To be the hero he would have wanted you to be!”

I stumble backwards, as if his words were a physical blow. Tears pour from my eyes as my breathing becomes erratic. I scramble through my jacket’s pockets, pulling two things that I always have on me now. The first is a bottle of my prescribed pills, of which I take one and swallow. The second is a paper bag that I hold to my mouth, watching as it rapidly inflates and deflates.

The pill, plus the bag helps me to calm down without too much time passing -only ten minutes?-, and I pocket them again as I look at my father, who’s standing in front of me with his hands raised as if unsure of what to do.

My glare has him flinching back, and I scowl as I turn around, deciding to walk home. Before I do though, I leave the most honest words I can say behind. “You could have helped him achieve his dream at any point in our lives. You chose not to. You were the same, and you decided that he wasn’t good enough because he didn’t have a quirk. I don’t know who it was that passed One For All down to you, but they made a mistake.”