second act calamity.

                                                      —   friedrich nietzsche.

“  i’m the one with the quirk, remember? oh no, that’s right. you were given one after i died, weren’t you? by the same “hero” who told me i was worth nothing, the bastard who told you the same and then had you offer up your life to him. who’re you putting up on your pedestal next, izuku? how long until you realize how easy they are to knock down? when are you finally going to give up!  ”

spitfire sears off his tongue, the shadow cast over his face highlights the glow of overflowing tears. all the good left inside of hisaki had leaked out into the cold reality of daytime. whatever benevolence once thrived had been muddled down into cowardice. he’s not particularly talented at antagonism, and yet it’s oh so easy to bite the head off of his own brother. memories of children pretending to be heroes couldn’t reconcile the rift between them now. whether it be some tragic misunderstanding or fate for them to foil each other — bitterness festers like ivy, poisoning the roots until the tree collapses. 

 “  why … why weren’t we enough for you?  ”  his voice quivers as he casts his gaze aside. izuku could have been anything he wanted except the one thing he dreamed of. he resented izuku, albeit reluctantly at first, for always looking towards the horizon instead of by his side. dreams so large that he wished so horribly to rip them from the sky and whittle them down to dust. because at the end of the day, when the light dies out and there’s nothing left but stray thoughts meant for capturing, it wasn’t enough for him. it was never enough for him. hisaki, mom, their life together, it would never be enough for izuku midoriya.

          𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 mere numbers left to lick at their wounds,  hardly a victory from the heroes but nothing less from failure on their end as well.   Oh it stings,  the hit never came as a surprise  ( faring in the streets does that to you,  honed instincts that never quite leave )  but it still hurt.   Geten was close in not making it but Redestro is gone,  prison bound,  and with everyone else gone their separate ways once again to retreat and regroup it left the ice user no great satisfaction in his correct assumptions prior to the attack:   the next time he comes across that winged hero himself,  he swears…

          But vengeance was hardly on the mind right now.   From all the commotion,  he had lost someone else much more important than a payback.   The worry didn’t cloud his perception,  he judged the next best area to the next until he finally found the kid.   Geten sighs silently but advances slowly,  silently,  the first fall of snow is always quiet and gentle,  in one’s slumber suddenly the earth is all covered in white as the eyes spring open.     “  Izuku?  ”     he calls,  unsure,  frowning now as he takes a better look at the younger’s state.   Geten hurriedly kneels down,  cold hands just hovering over scarred ones.     “  Izu…  ”     

          He doesn’t want to startle the boy,  but the concern is back and the lights of his eyes scan over the curled up frame for any delicate cracks.   Oh child,  don’t bear this alone.   Geten’s hand lands on Izuku’s back,  rubbing,  the other grabs one of the boy’s hands and lifts up the pressure.     “  Hey,  you’ll hurt yourself…  ”

his name placates his warring thoughts  as it breaks through the quiet sob filled silence. izuku recognizes the voice without having to see anything -  “  g-geten?  ”  he responds, stuttering over the name he’d said thousands of times as gentle touches bring aid. “  geten.  ”  izuku doesn’t move much, not when one of his hands is being removed from his head and that voice is telling him he’s going to get hurt. it doesn’t matter, he wants to say, he deserves it. 

fingers dig into dark green curls  like holding onto a life raft in the middle of a stormy sea. he’s alone in the warehouse, or at least he thinks he might be, believes he was before time lost most of its meaning to his shell-shocked interior. the presence doesn’t weigh on his instincts, he doesn’t acknowledge it but simply holds himself tighter until the harsh edge of his fingernails threaten to break through the skin of his scalp. it wouldn’t matter if he drew blood, the pain is secondary if not a grounding resolve from all that troubles him. 

he flicks through his phone to see so many unanswered texts sweep by, izuku thinks he should have expected that. probably should leave well enough alone after what happened. after everything. but he’s never been an expert on giving up - punishingly persistent to the point of causing constant annoyance. it’s in his nature to be a nuisance, he just needs to see him - needs to know he’s alright even if the sentiment is selfish. maybe there’s something he can do - a naive thought that there possibly exists a remedy for any of this. that’s why he shows up at the hospital, slinking in under the radar like he knows he shouldn’t be there. and he shouldn’t be. 

so following canon up until he is killed, izuku’s last and first altercation with all might is when all might tells him he can’t be a hero. izuku is absolutely crushed and makes the rash decision to try and save bakugo from the sludge monster that promptly kills him when all might fails to act in time. izuku dies believing he could never be a hero because his hero told him to his face that he wasn’t good enough without a quirk. this is a huge reason why izuku then will eventually agree to garaki’s experimentation with his resurrection quirk. while under threat and pressure he is also under the assumption that maybe if he can get more quirks, he can still be the hero he always wanted to be, however he is gravely mistaken and finds out to his bitter disillusionment.