Work Text:
Well if you come inside
Cold. Hard. The concrete, rough and ragged under his smooth, scarred body. That watery feeling enveloped his senses, not in his eyes but in his lungs, his tears had long dried, his chest felt heavy as he attempted to breathe. He chokes and sputters, the taste of old copper pennies danced on his tongue. His ears are ringing, yet those cries of devastating desperation invade his mind. His chest rises. His chest falls. Once. Twice. His eyes unfocused on the sky as black spots crowd his vision, he can no longer see the stars, he can no longer hear the begging, he can no longer feel the pain. Instead, he lays in the warm embrace of several mysterious figures. A newfound soothing emotion grew from the same aching chest. A feeling so foreign, so forgotten, ever since his tragic heartbreak. He felt wistful most nights, wishing for a sense of belonging and all it took was one step to finally get what he wanted. It’s as if he’s travelled back in time, to when his life was carefree, before everything went downhill. A warm hand brushed his mangled curls to the side, the ringing from before had slowly ebbed away, all that was left was soft muttering and that strange blossoming feeling in his torso. Small droplets fall onto his forehead, yet there are no clouds in this benevolent world he’s in. He shifts his head upwards, viridian eyes meet charcoal, a familiar looking woman gazes upon the mess of dirt and blood that mars the boy’s soft baby-like image. A half-baked attempt of a smile adorns her face as tears freely roll down her plush pale cheeks. Her hair, her eyes, her smile. They all remind him of his mother. His throat contracts and tightens as he lets out an shameful whimper, he mentally berates himself for mentioning the woman who gave him life and raised him, he was all she had left and now he was just like the insouciant man who had abandoned them both, the man he feared he’d become. Rough, calloused thumbs swiped at the single drop of grief that rolled down his smooth, tan cheeks. Soft lips met his slightly freckled forehead as the other six unknown silhouettes came into eye-shot. The first real smile in a while blooms on his face as they all speak in unison. “Welcome home, Ninth.''
I promise to keep you warm
Time seems to be futile in whatever realm he’s been placed in. He spends the majority of his “time” basking in the warm void, maybe he’s one with the sky, one with the stars. Before everything went downhill, his friends would speak highly of his approachable nature, a rosy cheeked girl who he had once been so close to would rant for hours about his sun-like smile and his homely aura. How he had the potential to turn every person on the planet into a heliophile with just one grin, how he may just be the reincarnation of Apollo with his “ability” to radiate such comfort that he could melt down almost anyone’s walls. He wills away the memories in hopes to prevent his brain from leeching onto the smallest bit of doubt that festers at the back of his mind. He remembers the nights of continuous studying, not on quadratic equations or the first quirk war, but of the constellations, how intricate and detailed the Greeks were with the backstories and designs of every little glistening speck in the sky. Despite his extroverted nature, he believed that he would blend in with the stars, iridescent, delicately put together with a toxic mix of his overtly forgiving nature and his overbearingly heightened emotions, a star begging to burn out with an inevitable explosion. There was something about this place that felt so euphoric, it may be the lack of expectations or that bubbling sensation that carried all throughout his body. The feeling of comfort that bloomed in his chest whenever the illusive figures decided to pay him a visit, the itching under his skin to be held, to be welcomed, to finally be the first choice. Here, he had no one to worry about, no self-sacrificial decisions, no life-threatening ultimatums, no trivial hormonal teenage drama, just nothingness. A never ending oblivion that kept giving no matter the costs. The petite boy wonders, whether or not this is where the vestiges of One for All reside, a world catered to their selfish whims, somewhere deep inside his quirk, so tucked away that only the shortcomings of death could bring its sweet arrival. This world is selfless, providing that constant stream of positive emotions and building a barricade to keep away the negative. As much as he longs to be, the boy knows he isn’t a star, stars are admired, uniform yet so utterly unique that each formation has its own name and story. The stars are loved by thousands and he wallows in pity and self-loathing. His innate primal desire to be cherished is a beast that he keeps on a taught leash, in fear that it would maim and kill anyone’s inclination to befriend him. He keeps his walls high as his chest rises and so do buildings, a blinding smile replaces his neutral face as he calls out two names that bring him unbridled joy and that same odd warmth in his chest, lithe arms wrap around a woman and a man’s neck as he cheerfully cries out “Nana-san! Daigoro-san!”
I'm sorry if I scared you
The imaginary city was a ghost town. Neon bright lights glistened and flashed, stores were open with no tenants inside. It was bustling yet so empty. Everything here seemed so surreal and unobtainable, yet there he stood among the famed late heroes he had idolised so much. They had been his comfort and joy, the people who he could genuinely be proud of unlike the others who had proclaimed to be his friends. It had been scary at first. The way that he settled into the world with so much content and comfort. He was so used to being paranoid in new surroundings yet the way the ground rumbled when taking the form of a bustling abandoned city or when he was simply sitting in what seemed to be the vestiges throne room, provided him something he had never felt before and that was terrifying. The last he felt like this was the early days of UA, that ineffable feeling of achievement because he had made it, he truly made his dream a reality. His heart picks up the pace at the thought. Thump. Thump. Thump. His heart violently knocks against his ribcage, rhythmic yet chaotic, his heart soars. The adrenaline of this world was jubilant. The impossible became possible once more, shattered dreams were rebuilt from their ruins and he was no longer Deku . In this world of crumbling, overgrown buildings and buzzing luminescent neon signs, fear and paranoia was no longer a constant, he didn’t need to turn his head every five minutes because of that persistent shitty feeling of dread that lay deep down in his heart. Yet, in this dimension where everything was so mundane, but simultaneously bursting with an unmatchable ecstatic energy, he felt at home for the first time in years.
When I slammed the car door
His lunch with Seventh and Fifth was anything but quiet, despite eating not being essential to living wherever he was, he integrated it within his non-existent schedule to have some sort of meal with at least two of the vestiges at a time. It was a way to catch up, to talk about taboo topics, about One for all, subjects that he was forbidden to speak about to his f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s̶ classmates. Today was not an exception, laughter echoed across the street while a noise akin an asthmatic half-dead pig escaped out of the bald man’s mouth. In between snorts and tears, the green haired boy managed to get out a sentence “So you’re saying that, Yagi-san, THEE ALL MIGHT , cried at the end of Shrek 3?” More cackles filled the empty valley, the noirette swiped at her under eyes as small beads of liquid joy leaked out of her graphite orbs. “Yeah, it was honestly the best thing I ever witnessed in my entire life.” Guilt pulls at the Seventh’s stomach as she laughs alongside them, she’s never seen the greenette smile so brightly, so wide and unrestrained, painfully blinding with sheer joy. She was there in those meetings with the other vestiges, watching over her successor, watching how the Ninth’s class dealt with their comatose friend. Bile rising up her throat, she disguises her discomfort with outlandish laughter, she can’t think about that now, she refuses to, not because of the flash-flood of guilt that comes with those thoughts of sending the boy back to the land of the living but because Nana cannot stand the idea of losing the small viridian force of nature.
But that doesn't matter now
Shimura Nana reminisces about the days before him . Cold. Desolate. Burning. Bustling. Ash falls like grey snow, covering the land. She takes a deep breath in. She cleans, she speaks, she watches, then she disappears to her “void”. Rinse and repeat. Some days are different, some with casual conferences with the rest of the holders tracking their Ninth’s progress, others are private conversations between each other, mostly with Banjo-san. Her bones ache for change, her quirk thrums under her skin, her desire to float, to soar, to feel . But today is like any other. She wakes, she takes a deep breath and she gets to cleaning. Then it happens. The fall. The tip of the iceberg. The warmth. This shortstack peppered with freckles had appeared here and everything fell into place. Constantly bouncing around the void, with analytical commentary and serendipitous smiles that she couldn’t help but reciprocate. He was the light in the dark, the viridescent boy never fails his attempts to help everyone yet he can’t seem to do the same for himself, so she takes it upon herself to do what others failed to do. Time passes differently here, that she knows for a fact, days in the real world are worth years in this skyless domain. She spends half a decade with the sun kissed boy and she realises that he wasn’t meant to be here. The rest of them, sure, fulfilled their duties by carrying One for all and for battling a centuries old villain but him? He barely had a chance to be a hero and it makes her heart ache. She tells her brain to regret it all. She tells her brain that she wishes she never got attached, she wishes her bleeding heart never approached him, never invited him out to lunch with En. Yet she can’t bring herself to actually feel remorse for lending a much needed helping hand. All she can really do is give a bittersweet grin and live with the knowledge that the young gentleman sitting opposite to her will change the world, but first he must face some of the most difficult hardships life has to offer.
You're still plastered on my walls
Each vestiges void is unique to themselves, with the First’s being a vast flower field that stretches for miles on end whereas the Fifth’s looks eerily similar to the city of Shinjuku, with loud neon advertisements pasted on each highrise. Each dimension is suited to the secret desires of all the holders, so it is no surprise when Izuku’s void is an office of what seems to be a hero agency. Light reflects through the large windows that allow him to view the mellow city below. Gleaming orange sunlight peeks through the large glass panes and the greenette smiles as it hits the image on his desk. Pasted around the office are framed photos of his loved ones and those he wished he was loved by but the pictures around the room won’t ever compare to the one that's sat in his direct view at all times. A little worn at the edges, the polaroid showcases vibrant blush coloured cherry blossom trees with petals that elegantly fall but what’s in the foreground is what he keeps buried in his heart. A boy who holds all the world's wonders in his heterochromatic eyes and another whose eyes are normally glossed over in a grey haze yet here they gleam with newfound joy have chosen a cheek to kiss of the grinning teen in the middle whose rosey face puts the trees in the background to shame. It’s moments like these where his heart falls deep into his stomach and thoughts like dangerous smoke tendrils curl around his brain and drag him into the depths to spiral, constantly going through hypotheticals and what ifs? As much as he bathed in the never-ending warmth and comfort, the moment he glances at that forsaken frame, he feels as if he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. So when he’s called in for a meeting with the others, he suppresses those thoughts to the back of his mind, ready to resurface for when he returns.
And I just can't bring myself to cover you
The meeting room was simple and a tad bit arrogant as there had been a throne for each ghost who had put their lives towards taking down All for One. The mindless chatter flows through his ears as he takes his seat. These meetings are normally boring minus the quips from En and Daigoro that get under the Second’s skin. Filled with status updates on the First’s evil brother and All Might, they never really speak about other pressing matters, they take this opportunity to get to know each other better despite most of them spending over centuries together. Regardless of the decades spent together, all the holder’s always find out something new at each gathering, whether it be a new addition to their individual dimensions or even a detail of their past lives. It would always be lighthearted and loving. But as soon as the Ninth sat down in the red velvet chair, the sinking feeling from earlier only grew.
With bands that don't even like at all
“So wait, there are no DVD stores anymore? How else are you supposed to watch movies?” Yoichi speaks with such vigour, with his pale skin and lanky stature, he looks as if with one more mention of Netflix or anything of the sort, he’ll pass out. He will never get tired of the way everyone will actively facepalm and take the time to explain modern technology as if the First was a student in kindergarten. The boy lets out his iconic blinding grin when he witnesses the sickly man detest the idea of illegal streaming sites and his wishes that they had been invented sooner. The friendly discourse among everyone will be his favourite memory of the group, not the shouting matches about resolve and borderline idiotic optimism. Leaning back into the cushioned throne, the almost feral grin subsided into something more tender and gentle, like a daffodil in the summer sun, he soaks up the warmth for what feels like the last time.
Cause I'm a ghost in training
He joins in with the laughter that encompasses the room, he ignores the voice that screams to let him know something is horribly wrong, that through all the euphoric cheerfulness that echoed against the walls, the optimism in this new world would come crashing down very soon. Yet those pleas fell on deaf ears and he continued his mindless laughing to some incomprehensible grumble from the Third. He feels weighed down in the moment, which is ironic, since he is a translucent phantom. Lost in his thoughts of irony and minor trepidation, he doesn’t notice that the chuckles stopped and the room is dead quiet. A boney hand meets his wrist as he snaps out of his mini thoughtless daydream and that is when he is met with concerned stares and the gaze of a certain woman whose eyes are shining like silver, fresh with tears.
Because my heart's be waning
The overbearing silence had him worrying. What was there left to say? They had their banter and laughs, normally this was when the rest of the vestiges would say their goodbyes and disappear off to their own little world of selfish desires, where he could either return to his existential crisis or where he’d follow his predecessor’s mentor into her cottage where he would wander the fields of the small farm house and tend to the plants whilst wondering about the more positive memories from when he was alive and kicking it. That’s when the second holder speaks in that gruff monotone that he’d learn to decipher over the time he’s spent here, a̶̶̶l̶̶̶l̶̶̶ ̶̶̶t̶̶̶h̶̶̶r̶̶̶o̶̶̶u̶̶̶g̶̶̶h̶̶̶o̶̶̶u̶̶̶t̶̶̶ ̶̶̶i̶̶̶t̶̶̶ ̶̶̶I̶̶̶z̶̶̶u̶̶̶k̶̶̶u̶̶̶ ̶̶̶h̶̶̶a̶̶̶s̶̶̶ ̶̶̶n̶̶̶e̶̶̶v̶̶̶e̶̶̶r̶̶̶ ̶̶̶o̶̶̶n̶̶̶c̶̶̶e̶̶̶ ̶̶̶m̶̶̶e̶̶̶n̶̶̶t̶̶̶i̶̶̶o̶̶̶n̶̶̶e̶̶̶d̶̶̶ ̶̶̶h̶̶̶o̶̶̶w̶̶̶ ̶̶̶h̶̶̶e̶̶̶ ̶̶̶l̶̶̶o̶̶̶o̶̶̶k̶̶̶e̶d̶ ̶̶̶s̶̶̶o̶̶̶ ̶̶̶s̶̶̶i̶̶̶m̶̶̶i̶̶̶l̶̶̶a̶̶̶r̶̶̶ ̶̶̶t̶̶̶o̶̶̶ ̶̶̶t̶̶̶h̶̶̶e̶̶̶ ̶̶̶m̶̶̶a̶̶̶n̶̶̶ ̶̶̶w̶̶̶h̶̶̶o̶̶̶ ̶̶̶h̶̶̶a̶̶̶d̶̶̶ ̶̶̶t̶̶̶o̶̶̶r̶̶̶m̶̶̶e̶̶̶n̶̶̶t̶̶̶e̶̶̶d̶̶̶ ̶̶̶h̶̶̶i̶̶̶m̶̶̶ ̶̶̶f̶̶̶o̶̶̶r̶̶̶ ̶̶̶y̶̶̶e̶̶̶a̶̶̶r̶̶̶s̶̶̶ ̶̶̶o̶̶̶n̶̶̶ ̶̶̶e̶̶̶n̶̶̶d̶̶̶.̶̶̶ ̶̶̶ The scarred man opens his mouth and the freckled boy pauses. “We’re sending you back.”
Because of all the shit I've eating
White noise. Buzzing, ringing, that incessant humming, crumbly and fizzing deep in his bones and brain. He couldn’t have heard it right. Leave? Here? He had to be wrong, they had to be wrong. When he was finally getting comfortable here, when he was starting to feel accepted. When he started to feel warm again, they suddenly decided that they were bored and wanted him thrown to the side. A weight on his back, one unnaturally soothing, he snaps out of his daze as he turns around to see Yoichi, the first with his pale twig-like hands resting comfortably on his shoulders as he speaks, Izuku feels like his world shatters with just one sentence “I’m sorry Ninth, but you must go back”.
I know one day my heart will stop beating
His heart stopped. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. He was supposed to stay, he was supposed to breathe and to live here where he didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was supposed to bask in the warmth, be one with the vestiges. But it wasn’t his time, he knew that deep down in his subconscious, it was sobbing and begging for release, for the crisp fresh air that the campus of UA had to offer instead of the stale smog esque air that polluted his lungs.
I'm sorry for everything I've done
A vestige with two black markings down the left side of his face stepped forward and spoke, voice unwavering. “It’s not your time to die yet, Midoriya Izuku”. A sharp yet gentle exhale escapes his mouth, he sighs as a defeated smile lightens up his face, his freckles contort strangely as he lets out a soft chuckle and a mutter “It’s never my time to die”. His head hangs low, he refuses to meet their eyes. He can feel their pitiful stares burn into his head. Nothing was ever enough to anyone, he had done too little in the land of the living, far too little and retribution day was here to send him back to his own personal hell.
I'm sorry for every tear that's dropped
The woman who had become reminiscent of his own mother stepped up, no words needed to be said as the glimmer in each other's eyes and sagged shoulders spoke louder than any phrase ever could. Nana’s heart drops at the sight of the teen’s face, throughout his time in the void his smile had been radiating during all times of day, not a single serious frown on his face had been spotted, not even once. Yet at the telling of news, his facial expressions couldn’t have been so heart wrenching. His freckled nose bridge was tensely wrinkled in a shoddy attempt to not let his dams burst, his sclera red from trying to hold the floodgates from ruining his fantasy world of never ending joy. The part that made her heart drop into the depth of her stomach was the resigned smile that sat unnaturally still, the same expression he carried during the fall. She can’t help but let a tear slip at the sight as she brushes the greenette’s untameable bangs to the side as she pulls the small boy into a bone crushing hug.
I'm sorry for all the times you didn't get to drive me home
He doesn’t react to the sudden contact whatsoever. Standstill, stuck in a freeze frame, in his head his knees and elbows dig into the rich vantablack void as he implores that fate keeps him stuck in her and death’s joint dimension, to stay rotting six feet under if that was where his body resided. As if the cosmic figure scolded him, he returned to semi-reality, in the arms of his predecessor's mentor whilst she let silent tears fall. He had so much more to learn, the stories of the heroing world back in the day and joint quirk analysis at their weekly lunch. There was so much to do yet too little time. He lets out a calm sigh as the woman speaks up.
Well if you come inside
“Izuku. They need you.” His eyes shimmer, he doesn’t want to let go of the warm-hearted woman. Every fiber of his being screams and claws, begging him to stay with the lady who had shown him what it was like to live. Nana never coddled him like his mother did, never apologised for anything, never treated him like he was a glass china doll. Arms loop around the tall woman’s neck as silent tears fall from viridian dams. The air got knocked out of his lungs as the other vestiges joined in on sending him off with a proper departure. Pit in his stomach, heart in his lungs, he acknowledges that this will be the last hug he receives in a while.
I promise to keep you warm
His limbs tingle, a familiar feeling spreads across his body. Blood rushes through his veins with renewed vigour, a crooked and feeble grin adorned on his face. He thinks “so this is what they meant by a proper parting gift”. Lightheaded from the recent quirk transfer, he smiles sensing his life will never be the same.
I'm sorry for scaring you, being the selfish fuck I know
He knows now. He doubts he’ll ever feel as warm. His arms shiver at the loss. He simply cannot afford to be selfish.
I am.