Chapter Text
Days blurred together when there’s nothing to focus on but four walls and a dirty floor.
Mora learned to accept that reality years ago. How many years? She didn’t have a clue.
Without a bed, Mora pressed herself into the furthest corner. The rough concrete dug into her back. She kept the cell door always in view.
A drip from a broken pipe grew louder, swallowing the silence. Mora sometimes listened to the rhythmic beat. A light bulb hung loosely from the ceiling, casting the darkest shadows.
Something low and human grumbled complaints beneath heavy breath.
Mora straightened. Low rumbles became formed words. They drifted in her direction. She lurched into the wall and smacked her head.
From the shadows, a boyish figure emerged. The boy spoke again, but Mora shook her head. Something dawned across his hidden features.
“Are you okay?” he asked in English, sleep oozing from his voice.
Mora rubbed the last remnant of sleep from her eyes. The boy sat up. He looked around her age, she guessed.
The boy caught her gaze with mismatched eyes. Mora turned away.
“We’ll get out of here,” the boy told her.
Determination laced through his tone. Mora almost laughed.
Standing tall, the boy stepped closer. Mora dove into the wall again, instinct overriding her brain. If the boy noticed, he didn’t say a word. He plopped himself beside her.
“Where are they?” he mumbled.
“Who?” Mora asked.
Her body froze.
The word slipped off her tongue before she could think. Mora had been in that cell for so long her senses had faded, or she wouldn’t have uttered a word. She found no point in escape plans. They were foolish.
“My friends,” he answered. “I don’t know how long I was out, so I have no clue if they know I’m gone yet.”
He paused. Mora wished he hadn’t continued.
“How long have you been here?"
Mora’s heart plummeted into her stomach. Minutes had become hours, hours twisted into days, and days blended into weeks.
She grimaced through a small smile. The boy frowned.
Someone kicked at the door. Mora wandered towards it. A slot slid open, and a tray of food smacked the floor. Mora shoveled fallen food onto the tray.
Without a word, Mora set the tray between them. The boy grabbed a piece of stale bread.
The drip in the corner lulled Mora back to sleep. She turned her back to the boy and curled into a ball. The floor underneath was freezing, but it didn’t bother her. It kept her grounded.
The boy gripped her shoulder and shook her. When Mora’s eyes finally opened, he stepped away.
He plopped down beside her like the night before. His eyes locked onto the metal door, eyeing it carefully.
Mora pulled her legs into herself and rested her chin on her knees. She studied the boy’s face. He had a scar over an eye, and his hair parted straight down the middle in two different colors.
“I never got your name,” he said.
“Does my name matter?”
His mouth opened to reply, but the door swung open with a loud bang. An angry teenage boy stood in the doorway.
“Found him,” he grumbled to someone behind him.
Another boy brushed past the angry blond. He pulled his friend to his feet. Mismatched eyes caught hers again, and his face drooped.
Mora hadn’t gotten up; she hadn’t moved a muscle. She didn’t want to leave. Mora had accepted her fate long before she entered that cell.
Alarms and shouts echoed against the walls and bled through the open door. The angry blond continued to stand in the doorway. Mora stared up at him, confused. Then she caught his puzzled look.
A hint of recognition hid behind red irises.
“Come on.”
“Why?”
The boy’s eyes widened. Without a word, he marched further inside and yanked her off the dirty ground by her shirt.
“You’re coming too,” he said through gritted teeth.
He gripped Mora’s wrist while he led the way. Mora pulled at his grip, but it wouldn’t budge. Tears pricked her eyes. Why was he so determined?
She allowed him two left turns and a dip down a right corner before she dug in her heels. “Let go,” Mora whispered. “I’m only going to cause trouble.”
“Stop,” he spat out.
“But–” she argued.
“No.”
He silenced all her retaliations. Her wrist went limp in his grasp.
Echoed thumps drew their attention toward the opposite end of the hall. Guards were closing in. The boy didn’t allow Mora room to argue further. He tossed her over his shoulder and bolted.
They turned several corners before he dropped Mora on her feet. Mora brushed her torn t-shirt back into place and stared up at him.
Mora opened her mouth to speak, but a hand slapped over her mouth. In retaliation, Mora licked his gloved palm. The boy ripped his hand away.
“Gross,” he hissed.
Thumping feet followed them again.
He turned toward two routes. “Shit,” he muttered. “Which one was it?”
Mora turned toward the growing sounds of footsteps. The first guard emerged from the darkness with a sickening grin. A handgun rested in its holster at his hip; the guard’s hand reached for it. But before he could, Mora raised an arm and flicked.
The guard flew backward and rammed into his comrades. They tumbled to the ground in a pile.
Mora grabbed the boy’s hand and pulled him into the left hall. Lights flickered above before showering them in darkness. Mora was familiar with that, so she kept on running.
She pushed through a door and stopped when she heard a metallic click. A metal beam shot across the door’s width. It locked them inside.
The man at the center of it all snickered. He taunted them with a slow, aggravating clap.
“Never in my life did I think a girl like her,” the man chuckled, “would be such a high priority! Do you, Mr. Dynamight, even know her name?”
The boy stiffened in her grasp. Cold eyes turned to her. The man, an American just like her, watched him. Confusion clouded the boy’s eyes, fueled by frustration and anger.
“I stumbled upon a goldmine when I found her hobbling through the alleys,” the man continued. “No one wanted her. No one has come looking for her in months! But you came running the second your little friend got scooped off the street. So what do you want with her?”
The boy pushed himself past Mora to stand guard in front of her. “Come on, surrender, dear, and maybe blondie here might get out of here alive.”
Mora stepped forward, but the boy stuck his arm out. He looked back at her, and she caught the gleam of dumb, naive determination in his gritted smile.
With a yell, he lunged. The man stepped to the side, and the boy flew past him. He ran into a wall. A crunch filled the air. When he stood up, blood dripped from his nose.
“You’ll die for that!” He raised his palm toward the man.
The man’s confidence vanished. Mora clocked why.
She lurched forward to stop it, but she was too late. The whole room lit up like fireworks, leaving nothing but smears of char.
It happened so quickly. One moment, Mora stood, watching the boy fight to protect her, and the next moment, she lay limp in a pile of rubble.
She shut her eyes tightly to keep the air from burning them. A second explosion ripped her from the pile and into the sky. She hit the concrete with a thud. Something in her body cracked.
Mora gazed up at the sky. She ignored the smoke and smog. The pinks and reds contrasted with the clouds.
Something blond blocked her view.
She blinked a few times before her eyes focused on him. His mouth quivered up and down as he clawed the debris away.
He pulled her from the rubble. She hunched over her knees, rubbing the side of her neck. Pain entangled itself in her muscles. A thrum in the back of her head traveled forward before her ears popped.
The boy watched with his lips pressed into a thin line.
Something warm trickled down her neck. Mora didn’t look, didn’t move to touch it. She knew.
The ringing grew louder. The pitch sent shockwaves through Mora's veins. Mora buried her head into the boy’s side. He wrapped his arm around her. She brushed her nose against his collarbone as she sobbed.
Mora, through her tears, saw it. Heroes rushed to gather survivors from the rubble, others handcuffed guards, and paramedics patched the wounded.
She collapsed into his chest, her eyes closed. He moved underneath her body, and his hands tightened around her waist. They rose together to their feet. Rubble got kicked and stepped on as someone joined them.
The dark-haired boy observed Mora’s injuries with furrowed brows. Mora brushed it off and tried to limp toward him. She caved from the screaming pain in her left leg. The blond boy gripped her torso, but it aggravated her broken ribs.
He ripped his arm away and stumbled back.
“Kacchan–”
“Just get her to the Meds, nerd,” the other spat.
Mora turned. Kacchan’s eyes failed to shield his guilt with a glare. She extended an arm to him but hissed in pain. A piece of her humerus stuck out past her elbow.
“Oh,” Mora muttered.
Nausea clouded her vision, but she still saw Kacchan turn and walk away. She cried a little as his back grew further away.
Blood splattered from her lips when she coughed up vomit.
Mora tilted backward, the ground below unsteady. She waited for the impact. The dark-haired boy had scooped Mora into his arms before she fell. He sprinted towards the closest ambulance.
Everything after that blurred together. Mora barely registered the voices around her or the hands touching her everywhere. She reached for the boy who carried her. She missed his fingers, and her arm hit the railing with a thump.
Then the world went dark.
Chapter Text
Morning clawed Mora’s bag of bones out of bed.
Mora swung her legs over the edge. She sat there for a while. In her long shirt, her bare legs mocked her in the closet mirror. Mora sneered at her reflection.
Scars littered her skin: electricity, acid, old wounds, and whatever she had forgotten happened. Mora never had the securist memory. She might’ve, when she was younger, but not anymore. Her scars told stories Mora didn’t want anyone to know.
The class held their tongues around her. Mora knew what settled at the tip of their tongues. In time, someone would gather the courage to ask. Mora hated the day that happened. One question always turned into two, and then they multiplied like bunnies.
She hobbled around her room to find her uniform skirt. It took less time now that she had practice under her belt. She scowled in her bathroom mirror. Her pale skin looked translucent beneath artificial light.
The hall was quiet when she limped to the elevator. When the doors opened, she faced Bakugo’s scowl. Mora rolled her eyes at his sneer and stepped inside.
The doors shut behind her, locking her in a metal cage.
“Have you cooled off yet?” Mora asked.
“You’re a liar.”
“I am many things.”
Bakugo pushed himself off the elevator wall, inching close to Mora’s face. His scowl deepened. “I don’t like you.”
“That sounds like a you-problem, Gremlin.”
Bakugo seethed. He gnashed his teeth together, holding back what could’ve been a growl. Mora wanted to laugh at the face he made, but she knew it would only anger him more.
“You know, for someone who was determined to save me from captivity, you’ve got a lot of beef with me.”
Guilt flashed across his face for a second. He distanced himself, and the two rode in silence.
Mora stood beside the teachers at a distance. They would try to start a conversation. Every attempt, her disinterest twisted the interaction. Mora felt proud when they distanced themselves. She didn’t need more unaccountable adults in her life.
A bell sounded. She leaned against her crutch and watched the class’s exercise.
“You must be Eaton,” a booming, bright voice shouted. A shriveled cough ricocheted through the owner’s chest.
“It’s Mora, actually.”
“Ah, yes, Young Midoriya did tell me that.”
Long, blond locks framed a sunken face. Faded blue eyes locked on Mora. The man stretched a frail arm in her direction. She shook his hand.
“Toshinori,” Mora said.
The man flinched, but he didn’t correct her. He wasn’t much of an All Might these days. “I’ve spent some time in America when I was around your age,” Toshinori noted.
Mora gazed up at the sky to hide her eye roll. “Yeah?”
“It was nice,” he replied. He scratched beneath his chin. His gaze pulled away from her and returned to the exercise.
“I’m sure it was.”
He paused. Mora glared at the monitors broadcasting the current run-through of the battle simulation. The class had split into three teams. Each team must capture the opposing team's flags.
Capture the flag, really?
Mora rolled her shoulders back.
“A lot has changed since 2010,” Toshinori said softly. Mora twisted her attention to him then. She gritted her teeth. She should’ve known Midoriya couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“What do you want?” she asked.
Toshinori shrugged. He gritted through a grin. It wasn’t convincing in Mora’s opinion. “It’s a peculiar observation, that’s all.”
“That's your way of saying I’m lying?”
He shook his head and wrung his hands together. “No,” he replied.
“Who’s the liar now?”
Toshinori didn’t say much after that, and Mora was more than happy to stand in silence. They watched as Bakugo and Midoriya flew through the sky. The two worked as one to tackle a trio from another team.
Bang!
Mora froze.
Bang! BANG!
A clear blue sky burst into darkness and rain. Lightning struck the pavement, breaking it into pieces. Through the chaos, a booming voice cackled.
“You thought a simple collapsed building was enough?” the voice taunted. “Guess again!”
Mora sniffed the air and then groaned to herself. The rain moved further towards Class 2-A.
“Damn it.”
Toshinori scrambled after her as she limped into the fray. The other teachers shouted at the two, but their calls went unanswered.
Within seconds, the rain glued her clothes to Mora's skin. She barreled through the chaos. The voice grew louder. It egged on the rain.
Shadows converged and swirled into nothingness. They left a man in the middle of a fake intersection. Mora glared. His eyes glowed purple.
She should’ve known. It smelled too similar. Phobos .
Mora could still hear his cackling manipulations in her ear. She dropped her crutch and marched closer, even on her broken leg. Electricity bubbled down her spine. It sparked her anger into rage. She screamed through her lunge.
He vanished into thin air, but his voice circled her. “It took some time to regroup, I can admit,” it said. “But then I realized, I don’t need anyone!”
The ground rumbled. Mora stumbled backward. Her misstep opened her up to an attack. Shadows pushed onto her back. They pressed her into the concrete. She clawed at them, but all that came back was smoke.
“He followed you here,” he taunted. “His essence now seeps through my fingers. You can’t outrun us .”
Fear filled her chest and festered close to her heart. Then she remembered the screams and the thumping feet. People were coming to her rescue. It would’ve been different if they had another ten seconds.
Mora pressed her palms and summoned the electricity that had bubbled up. It encircled her arms and burst through her palms. The shadows whimpered into whispers of nothing. Mora scrambled to her feet.
She ripped her cast off her arm. Her rage simmered beneath her skin and thrummed in rhythm with the electricity’s static. A silver glow began to surround her. It scarred off the remnants of the man’s shadows. With a heavy step, she cracked her cast off her leg.
The silver aura circled her. It brightened as anger flooded her veins. Mora was sick and tired of Chaos and Fear. She summoned the winds to break through his mirage of clouds. They dissolved and unveiled the bright, blue sky.
She stalked closer. Her eyes gleamed gold with sparks of electricity humming in her ears. It drowned any other sound.
“What are you?” the man hissed.
“Come on,” Mora laughed. She shuffled closer. She splayed her fingers before she sliced them through the air. Wind knocked the man to his feet. “Think! Phobos must’ve told you, right?”
Blood trickled over her lips and dripped off her chin. She wiped it away but came back with gold. Mora gritted her teeth.
On her knees, she dug her palms into the pavement. It rumbled beneath her. Cracks spread around her. They slithered towards the villain. He gasped, and in a wisp of shadows, he vanished.
Mora settled on her side with her knees tucked into her chest tightly. She closed her eyes. The electricity coursing through her neurons burned behind her eyes. She gritted her teeth. She exhaled through her nose. She took a breath, then inhaled through her mouth. It wasn’t helping.
Coldness layered over her body. Mora shivered at the layer of ice crawling up her bare skin. Her sweat had cooled in her stagnant state.
“Mora?” someone called.
She curled into herself. Her stomach knotted in protest to seize control of her throat. She rolled onto her stomach and had a half-second before she vomited. Gold glared up at her. She sobbed at the sight. Her vision started to fade.
On her side, while her vision came and went, she saw Bakugo in one blink and then the entire class in another. She screwed her eyelids shut.
Multiple voices converged on her, but her mind scrambled to focus on one.
Aizawa’s voice cut through the chaos. His hands cupped her face. She felt the warmth melt the thin layer of ice.
“Mora?” he whispered.
Mora croaked, bloody spittle sprayed from her lips. “I used too much.”
She fell limp in his grasp. Her consciousness circled the drain long enough that she felt arms wrap around her body. They pulled her up and onto a backboard.
Chapter Text
Her eyes fluttered, but burned beneath fluorescent lights. She screwed them shut. Mora tried again. She found herself in a hospital.
Pain blanketed her body. An inch of movement spiked white-hot flares down to her toes. Mora clenched her teeth, biting down her sobs, after a poor attempt to sit up.
A big window occupied space to her left. The sun fell behind large buildings. To her right, a door, open wide, spilled into a bustling hall. In the distance, there was a nurse's station.
A young man stumbled through the door. It made Mora chuckle.
When the doctor got his balance, he fixed his white coat and calmly walked farther inside. Mora nodded at him in acknowledgment. He moved towards the monitors, pressed buttons, and fixed the wires. After a while, he turned back to her.
He stood at the foot of her bed, his clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. “My name is Dr. Sasaki. What is yours?” he asked.
“Mora,” she whispered hoarsely.
Her throat burned. She licked her cracked lips and coughed. Dr. Sasaki rushed toward a tray and filled a cup of water. The water felt like heaven. Droplets fell from the cup into her mouth, soothing the dryness.
Mora downed the drink in two seconds flat. “Thank you.”
“Would you like more?”
“No, I’m alright for now.”
Dr. Sasaki continued his questions, and Mora answered to the best of her ability. That was until he came to one she couldn’t answer at all.
“Do you have any next of kin we should notify?”
Mora paused. She wasn't an orphan, but it wasn’t true that she had any family there. She was all alone in the aspects that mattered. “No.”
“Do you have anyone you can call?”
“No.”
Dr. Sasaki’s expressions twisted into pity while we continued through his questions. Mora hated pity. It was stupid and did nothing to ease the pain. The doctor could shove it down his throat for all she cared.
“Alright, that’s all the information I need right now,” he said. “The boy who rode with you asked if we could notify him when you woke up. Is that alright?”
“That’s fine.”
Mora was left alone for a while. A nurse brought her a notebook and pen to doodle with to pass the time. Mora scribbled down her thoughts and mapped out plans.
Her eyes wandered across the horizon. The sun sat high above the mountain of buildings. She wondered how long she’d been unconscious. Has it been days or weeks?
Someone knocked on the doorframe. It was the boy from the ambulance. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
The boy stood in the doorway awkwardly, waiting for an invitation. Mora waved him inside. He sat in the chair closest to the bed.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Alright,” she replied.
The boy's features slowly registered. Freckles littered across his face, the startling green eyes, and the green hair to match. “Are you Midoriya Izuku?”
“I am,” he answered, his smile tightening. “And you?”
“Mora.”
“Mora Eaton?”
Her heart hammered in her throat like a sledgehammer. How did Midoriya know? He opened his mouth to explain, but a knock ripped them from their conversation.
“Todoroki, it’s nice to see you here,” Midoriya greeted as he stood. He ushered Todoroki closer. Todoroki didn’t acknowledge Midoriya; all his attention was on Mora.
“Are you going to tell me your name now?”
“Mora,” she paused, her gaze flickering toward Midoriya’s direction. “Eaton. Mora Eaton.”
With a hand stretched out, “Todoroki Shoto.”
Mora accepted the handshake.
“Are you American?” Todoroki asked.
“Yes.”
He nodded at that. “Well, it’s nice to know your name, Eaton.”
“Call me Mora.”
“Okay, Mora .”
Midoriya watched while they exchanged odd pleasantries.
“Do you know if Kacchan will come to visit? The doctor said I’ll be here a while.”
Midoriya jumped when he realized Mora was talking to him. Then he chuckled a little to himself at the blond’s name. Mora was a little confused by it.
“I don’t know, but I’ll ask him.” Midoriya turned away and pulled out his phone.
Mora turned back to Todoroki, whose gaze never broke away from her. His eyes held no pity. Mora smiled at him. He smiled back.
Todoroki settled in a chair, and the two began to chat freely.
They didn’t talk about anything specific, but Mora found it comforting. The pleasantness filled her with relief. Here she could slip into a sense of normalcy, even if it were for a short while. It doesn’t last long for her, so she takes it where she can get it.
Midoriya huffed, “I’ll try to get him to visit. I promise, Mora.”
“Okay.”
Midoriya left after that.
“Do you think he’ll get Kacchan to say yes?”
“I think Midoriya might be the only one who has any chance,” Todoroki said. “I know Midoriya already asked, but how are you?”
“Fine, the doc says I have a bad concussion, and I shattered my arm and leg. Fractured and bruised a couple of ribs, too.”
“Did they try healing you with Quirks?” Todoroki asked. “Midoriya has those injuries all the time, and he’s out in a day or two.”
Mora tensed. Why didn’t she think that wouldn’t come up so soon? She eyed the window and watched a flock fly by.
“My- uh, quirk doesn’t react well to healing quirks,” Mora explained the best she could. For the most part, what she said was true. The whole truth required convincing. Lies were easier.
“That is frustrating.”
Mora chuckled. “You have no idea.”
“Are you in a Hero Course at your school?”
“No.”
“What course are you in then?”
“America doesn’t do that.”
Todoroki balked at that, and Mora laughed. She spent a good hour explaining the American public school system. When she finished, he looked more confused than when she started.
“And you’re telling me that high school over there is four years?”
“Yes.” Mora smiled.
“What does that make you?”
Mora’s smile fell.
“An eleventh grader, I guess.”
Todoroki’s eyes bugged out of his skull. It eased the tension in Mora’s shoulders. “The years don’t start over?”
“Yep, in elementary school, you start at Kindergarten, then first, and then you just keep going up one grade each year.”
“Odd.”
The two fell into a conversation of nothingness again. Mora welcomed it with open arms. There were moments where she didn’t answer, but for the most part, Todoroki asked questions Mora didn't have to lie about. She was grateful for that.
The sun dropped behind the buildings, the moon taking its place. Todoroki had to leave. Mora’s smile faded for a moment.
“I need to go, but I’ll try and visit you soon.”
And like that, he was gone.
Mora sat in a dark hospital with nothing to do. Her journal lay in her lap, but she had no idea what to write. All her thoughts were too murky and incoherent to jot down.
The monitors beside her thrummed, beeping out of sync. She turned to the window and gazed at the moon and stars.
The crescent moon shone brightly, casting moonbeams onto the tile floor. As if they were dancing, the stars blinked and swayed in rhythm. Mora lay back, gazing up at the ceiling. She searched for cracks or crevices to count. There were none to find.
Her eyes grew heavy, and her breath grew longer. Her eyes drooped, and soon sleep took her into comforting nothingness.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Mora swatted at the nuisance. The annoyance disappeared, and she relaxed back into her bed. It was warm, and the pillow fluffed and puffed like a cloud.
Someone tore her pillow from her face, leaving the blinding lights to shine through her closed eyelids. Fingers prodded at her good arm again. Mora opened her eyes and glared at her assailant.
“What?” she hissed.
“Want to go for a walk?” her green-haired assailant asked.
Mora dragged herself to sit up in her bed. There she scrunched her face and motioned to her shattered leg. “What do you think?”
Midoriya smiled sheepishly, “Oops, I forgot about that.”
From the doorway, another voice chimed in. “I can get a wheelchair.”
“Oh, that’s perfect, Todoroki!”
Todoroki disappeared. Mora gawked at the empty doorway.
Her shock was short-lived as Todoroki returned with a nurse and a wheelchair. Mora swatted the boys away when they drew nearer to help. She refused the nurse’s help, too. The last thing she needed was to look fragile.
“Where are we even going?” she asked Midoriya, who walked beside her as Todoroki pushed. “Also, I can’t be out there long; my leg and arm are getting new casts today.”
“Trust me,” Todoroki leaned into her ear. “This will only take half an hour of your time.”
“Todoroki!”
“What, you expect him to handle much of a conversation?”
“Give him more credit than that.” Midoriya ended the conversation there.
Something Mora knew well glinted in green eyes. Midoriya was withholding information. Mora leaned back in the wheelchair. He knew something about her, and Mora began to think it involved Kacchan.
When they reached outside, they turned onto a path that led to the gardens. A breeze whistled through bushes and trees, shaking the leaves. Pink petals fluttered to the ground. Mora reached out a hand and tried to catch one.
Todoroki slowed the wheelchair and stopped her a few feet from a picnic table.
“What did Kirishima say?”
Mora perked up at that. She remembered that name– he was the one who could harden his entire body. Invincible, like Superman , Mora thought.
“They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Todoroki nodded. He rolled Mora over to the picnic table. Mora pushed herself out and plopped onto one of the benches. “Mora!”
Midoriya’s head ripped from his phone. “You can’t just do something like that,” Todoroki chastised. “Don’t you want your leg to heal correctly?”
“I’m fine,” Mora replied. “I have a good leg, remember?”
“Oh, right.”
Mora chuckled a little. She thought his surge of concern was adorable.
The boys sat on the other side. Mora watched Midoriya squirm in the silence. “You okay, Midoriya?” Todoroki asked.
“You’d think I would be the nervous one,” Mora joked, “since I’m meeting new people.”
Midoriya laughed with uneasiness. Mora knocked her knuckles against the wood in front of him. Green met blue. “Everything will go just fine.”
Midoriya flashed her a smile. “I appreciate your confidence.”
Mora leaned back, eyeing a couple of teens walking their way. With more inspection, it was more like the redhead was dragging his blond friend behind him. The blond one dug his heels in as much as he could. “It’s not confidence but a fact,” Mora replied.
“Come on, Bakugo,” the redhead said, his voice carrying far. “Why is one girl getting you all bent out of shape?”
“Shut it, Shitty Hair.”
“Guys!” Midoriya waved the two over. Mora turned to Todoroki.
“Bakugo? I thought it was Kacchan?”
“What about Kacchan?”
The three at the table turned to the newcomers. Midoriya smiled sheepishly at the blond, whose scowl tried to burn a hole in Midoriya’s skull. He opened his mouth to explain, but Mora beat him to it.
“Is Kacchan not your name?”
Kirishima burst out into laughter. He doubled over his knees. “Oh, that’s good,” he laughed.
“It’s not,” the blond said, gritting his teeth.
Mora saw a fading scar mar the right side of Kacchan's face. It covered half his face and bled down his neck. And if Mora had to guess, it traveled to his toes.
Pain struck Mora’s heart. She grasped the front of her shirt and lurched forward. Todoroki rushed to her, pushing Kirishima and the blond out of his way. When he crouched close, Mora pressed her palm into Todoroki’s shoulder. She stared straight into red eyes.
“You’re Bakugo Katsuki.”
There was a flinch.
“Yes.”
“Hi,” Mora said. She reached out her hand to him. “My name is Mora Eaton.”
Chapter Text
Bakugo had stormed away. Kirishima had run after him, but not without apologizing on Bakugo’s behalf. Mora had yanked her wheelchair from under the table and pushed herself back into it. With one hand, she rolled the chair back onto the pavement.
They gave her space, a week's worth of it. When knuckles rapped against the doorframe to her room, Mora hoped it was one of them. She was mistaken.
The man wore an eye patch, and the metallic thuds against the tile suggested he wore a prosthetic. “Hello, Ms. Eaton. I'm Aizawa Shota.”
“I know who you are. You’re not so underground anymore, Eraserhead.”
A little smile broke out on Aizawa’s face. “I guess you’re right there.”
“I know it’s customary in Japan to call others by their last name when you’re not so familiar or close,” Mora said. “Can you call me Mora? Eaton doesn’t feel right.”
“Okay, kid.”
Aizawa sat in the chair next to Mora’s bed. “The boys have wanted to visit.”
“Are you the reason they haven’t?”
He nodded.
Mora had been by herself for a week. One day of being treated like a person again, she fell back into craving for others’ company. Mora spent months in that cell alone without a care in the world!
“I understand,” Mora said. “School comes first.”
“Not always,” Aizawa replied.
“Why are you here, Eraserhead?”
“If I’m calling you Mora, you should call me Aizawa.”
“Okay, Aizawa, why are you here?”
An older woman shuffled into the room, using a cane to keep her balance. “Hello, dear.”
“This is Shuzenji Chiyo, also known as Recovery Girl.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Mora said. Her eyes flickered between Recovery Girl and Aizawa. Then it dawned on her. “Did Todoroki tell you what I said to him?”
“We find it odd, is all,” Recovery Girl replied, “it’s not often we find those who are resistant to healing Quirks.”
“Well, it’s not impossible because here I sit,” Mora motioned to her broken body. “Are you here to see if this applies to you?”
“Mora,” Aizawa interrupted, “Recovery Girl’s Quirk is different from other healing Quirks. It’s about people’s energy and stamina.”
Mora laughed. Her power was starting to sound a little too much like a certain someone’s: hers.
“I see you’re here to offer your assistance in my recovery. The doctors say I’m healing quite nicely.”
“Yes, but without Quirk intervention, the process will take you well over a year,” Recovery Girl said. Mora rolled her eyes. Back home, superpowers held no value. Doctors relied on medicine and procedures rather than supernatural abilities to do their job. The idea that successful medical assistance was based highly on doctors’ quirks was foolish.
“My answer is no.”
Mora learned she had no choice.
She found herself leaning against a crutch, staring up at an unfamiliar school. Big, bold letters glared down at her.
Kids in school uniforms, plain clothes, or costumes covered in dirt and grime scurried through the school’s walkways. They ran about the property with little to no worry.
Mora didn’t want to spend her time in a school dedicated to heroism.
Aizawa shouldered a bag of clothes from Mora's team of nurses. It was their farewell to her. They didn’t let her leave without giving her the biggest hugs. “You’ll do just fine at U.A.,” one had whispered into Mora’s ear.
Midoriya met them at the gate. He beamed at Mora. “You’re going to love it here.”
Aizawa didn’t say a word. Instead, he shoved the bag into Midoriya’s chest and walked away. Mora glared at his fleeting back. Coward , she thought. He couldn't bother to escort her to her doom like a man. “I guess that means you’re staying with us, Class 2-A.”
“Whatever,” Mora mumbled.
Mora limped her way through the property. She eyed the renovated infrastructure from temporary housing. A war swept through their nation, but in six months, they washed away the evidence among the buildings. But scars littered the cracked pavement Mora walked on.
Earth scars the same way humans do in battle and war.
Those scars don’t fade. No matter how much plaster and paint people use, nothing can erase the memories. They stick forever. They stick in the brain and play in the mind. No one can run from that. Or hide from it.
Todoroki stood on the front deck of the 2-A dorms. His head bowed, and his fists shoved deep into his pockets.
Todoroki's head whipped upward when he heard their footsteps. He attempted an easy smile. Todoroki looked more anxious than if he had just frowned. “It’s nice to see you, Mora.”
“Do you think their plan will work?” she asked him. Todoroki only stared. “For all its worth, I hope they are.”
Todoroki sputtered. Mora stumped him thoroughly into silence. She hobbled up the steps onto the deck and pushed through the front door. She left both boys in her dust. It was now or never.
To her surprise, there weren’t many students milling about the first floor. Mora found a group of girls huddled around a couch to her left. They sprang to their feet at the sound of the door closing behind Mora. Smiles and grins plastered their excited faces.
“Welcome!” a girl with short, tight pink curls exclaimed, leading her pack straight toward Mora. Her skin was pink, her hair a brighter shade; she beckoned everyone closer. “I want to introduce you to our class.”
Soon, Ashido, the pink one, began parading Mora around the building to introduce her to everyone . Mora limped the best she could. There were moments when Mora nearly face-planted, but Ashido got too caught up in her mission to notice.
They went up to the top floors. Luckily, there was an elevator. When Ashido decided enough was enough, it was past ten o’clock. Mora did learn that a few of their classmates decided to move schools after the war. She understood their choice instantly. When you’ve seen the reality of heroism, there’s no saner choice than to get the hell out.
Mora's mind got screwed over too many times. She lost memories and found them again too often. Throwing herself into someone else’s battle hadn’t helped.
By the end of the night, Mora began to remember Class 2-A. She could say she knew these students well, too well, in her words. She was relieved when Uraraka, one of the few girls in the class, offered to show Mora her new room. Mora accepted. The elevator doors closed, encasing the two in a small metal box.
“For what it’s worth, everyone here is excited to have you,” Uraraka said, “we’ve all lost so much. We all think a new face feels like a fresh start.”
“I hope for your sake it’s not mine.”
Chapter Text
The sun seeped through the blinds and filled the room. Mora rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Birds had settled on the balcony’s guard rail. They chirped happily and fluttered back and forth. Her calm morning didn't last long.
It started with her clothes.
Mora struggled to find pants that fit over her cast. She settled for loose shorts. Pulling them up aggravated her broken arm. Mora frowned at the scars littered across her legs.
She gritted her teeth at the sight of her shirts. Grabbing the loosest shirt she had, Mora yanked it on before the pain settled deeper into her bones. To her dismay, it only covered half her upper arm. Her wraps had unraveled and fallen under her bed during the night. Gods, her life sucked right about then.
Lines of lightning strikes spiraled up her arm, with more scars layered beneath. The lightning had begun to fade to white, her only evidence of how long ago it had been. Mora was grateful her cast hid the worst of her scars.
She remembered the face of her healer and how he debrided her arms and nursed her back to health. Mora owed that man her life.
There was a hoodie crumpled in the back of her closet. It was a zip-up that Mora could slip her cast through without fuss. Mora turned to the mirror in the closet to see herself drowning in clothes. It was the best she could do for the time being.
With the crutch underneath her healthy arm, Mora limped toward her door. Mora opened it, only to be met with Uraraka’s fist in her face.
"Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Eaton!"
Leaning against her crutch, Mora held her bloody nose. "Mora," she corrected. Uraraka’s face shifted from worry to confusion. "I would like it if the class referred to me by my first name."
"Okay," Uraraka said. "I'll be sure to let the others know."
"Thank you."
Uraraka and Mora made their way to breakfast. Even on a Saturday, the whole class was awake and ready by seven. Uraraka led her toward the open-plan kitchen where Iida, their class president, was dishing bowls of oatmeal. He paused when Mora was next in line. "Eaton, I hope everyone has been treating you well."
"I go by Mora," she replied.
"My apologies, Mora," Iida said, her first name struggling to roll off his tongue.
"No worries, I understand."
"And to my question?"
"It’s only the first morning," Mora replied, "so it’s hard to say right now."
Iida nodded. He scooped a good-sized portion into a ceramic bowl and handed it to her. Mora eyed it, but before she could ask, Uraraka grabbed it with her empty hand. She followed the brunette to a table where Midoriya and Todoroki were seated.
Mora pulled out her chair with the bottom of her crutch and plopped into a seat across from them. One table over, a certain grouchy blond huffed before stomping his way out of the room.
"Bakugo! That is so unmanly!" Kirishima yelled at him, chasing after him just like the other day.
Midoriya squirmed under Mora’s steely gaze. Mora didn’t say a word, but her look said it all. She didn’t know what was happening, but she would figure it out. Mora always did in the end.
"So, Mora, where are you from?" Uraraka asked through a spoonful of oatmeal.
"America." Mora poked at her food.
Uraraka’s eyes glittered. "What’s it like there? I’ve always wanted to visit."
"Why?"
Mora couldn’t remember the last time she felt happy to be American.
There wasn’t anything good about it from what she saw. The government was corrupt; adults who hated children filled the education system. Cruel people have ruined the land. It baffled Mora how much excitement lit up Uraraka’s face.
Midoriya leaned into the table, his eyes on her. His lips curved into a frown with his brows pinched together. “What’s it like for you?” he asked.
Mora shrugged. Images slipped back into focus. She found an older man in a lab coat blinking at her. She struggled against the restraints. Mora shivered at the memory.
“Mora?” Uraraka called.
“Sorry, what was the question? My Japanese isn’t the greatest.” Midoriya nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.
“A lot of us haven’t been overseas,” Midoriya explained. “New sights and whatnot. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Multnomah Falls?”
Uraraka beamed. “Where’s that?”
“Oregon.”
“That’s a state on the west coast, right?”
Mora nodded.
“I guess it’s nice,” Mora replied. She dug into her food. “The bridge was falling apart the last time I went.”
“It was cool, though?” Uraraka asked.
Midoriya had pulled out his phone while she spoke. He looked up at her and asked about the bridge. “Yeah,” she said. “The cobbling was falling away around the railings. I’m sure Park and Rec has fixed it.”
He scrutinized the article he’d pulled up. “When did you go?”
Mora squirmed in her seat. She started to catch on, but to what, she wasn’t sure. “2010, I think. I don’t know, I was like seven.”
Todoroki’s spoon dropped to the floor with a clang. The way his eyes bulged out of his face almost cartoonishly told Mora all she needed to know. She answered wrong. “2010?” he whispered.
"Mora, what year do you think it is?" Uraraka asked softly.
Knowing her answer would be wrong again, Mora stood and pushed her untouched bowl of oatmeal away. She grabbed her crutch and limped outside. Mora didn’t want her whole morning spent in an interrogation.
She marched herself into the school’s patch of woods. Trees towered above her. The sun trickled through the treetops, lighting the walking path.
Her head swarmed with fragmented memories of what she used to call home. The doctors did their best to rid her of them. Blind obedience was their goal. She fought hard to win just her name. Her past life was worlds away.
Tears gathered in Mora’s eyes. Her lungs burned for oxygen she could not wheeze in. Her heart pounded in her ears while her chest clenched in knots. The sun beat against her neck. She leaned against a tree. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Mora buried her face deeper into the bark.
Mora’s ears began to ring. They rang and rang and rang. She sobbed loudly while attempting to claw the noise out of her ears. Skin scraped away. Blood got stuck beneath her nails.
Echoes of screams ricocheted against the sides of her skull. Why won’t they leave her alone?
A whimper rumbled in her throat. She dug deeper. Mora would do anything to make the screams go away. Warmth rolled down her neck. A strong hand yanked Mora’s hand away from her ear.
Mora craned her neck to see the terror on Todoroki’s face. His gaze wasn’t on her but the dripping blood beneath her fingernails. Sobs wracked through Mora’s chest, plunging her bruised ribs into star-seeing pain.
Mora leaned against the trunk and slid. Todoroki held her waist tightly and gently eased her down to the ground.
They strapped her down like a monster.
She was a monster in their eyes, nothing more than a lab rat. No matter how hard Mora yanked and pulled, the leather restraints wouldn't give. Mora contorted her body in any which way to get out of her bonds, but nothing would work. She was stuck, forced to endure whatever piss-poor test the doctors wanted to run on her that day.
They glued wires to multiple spots on her head and body. Mora had failed to rip any off before their test began. They shoved a mouth guard between her lips to prevent the breakage of her teeth. It masked her screams, too.
From the back of the class, Mora struggled to understand the lesson. She understood the math equations, but the teacher's words not so much. Her Japanese was decent enough to pass by. The classroom setting was a whole new ballpark.
When English rolled around, the thing she understood since she could talk, read, and write, Mora was asked not to participate. She had to swallow her retort.
Yamada scribbled English sentences on the board. The class groaned at the lesson of the day. Yamada waited patiently for a hand. Minutes ticked by, but not a single hand rose in the air.
Mora glared at the figure curled up in a yellow sleeping bag.
It took years of training her brain to focus on specific details in texts to understand what neurotypicals got without trying. To be told she couldn’t use her skills felt like a slap to the face.
Yamada sighed and pointed in Mora’s direction with a piece of chalk. Mora tucked her crutch under her arm and limped to the front of the classroom. Their eyes were glued to her back. The attention made her shiver.
Yamada asked Mora to explain which sentence was wrong. She pointed to number four.
With a simple swipe against the board, she fixed the sentence. "It needed a comma to separate the two clauses."
Yamada asked her to explain further. Mora tossed him the chalk and limped back to her seat. She refused to do his job for him; Mora had done enough of that already.
Class 2-A started to understand, and after a few questions, hands flew into the air. Mora turned to her notebook and doodled.
Mora dreaded the end of English class. It meant she had to meet Recovery Girl for their appointment.
She hated every second she had to spend in the woman’s office. It smelled too clinical for Mora’s liking. The other girls shot Mora sympathetic smiles as Recovery Girl stood in the doorway.
In the nurse’s office, Recovery Girl patted a bed and sat in the swivel chair next to it. Mora swallowed her complaints. It went by quicker when she obeyed their wishes. Recovery Girl held her clipboard tightly.
"Today, I want to ask some questions to understand your Quirk."
Mora twisted. How could she explain it without sounding like an absolute nut?
"You know how Midoriya has multiple quirks. I'm in a similar situation," Mora explained. The edges around the woman’s eyes softened. Recovery Girl's hand rested on Mora’s knee.
"Eaton," she spoke softly, adding a comforting squeeze, "did All For One hurt you?"
Mora jerked away. "No, not at all!"
"Did you work for him?" she asked next.
"No!"
"Why are you being defensive?"
Mora jumped off the bed onto her good leg and hopped to her crutch. "Because you’re accusing me of working for that monster! You know nothing about me. Why do you think you have any right to assume something so horrible?!"
There was a moment of silence. Recovery Girl hesitated before she opened her mouth again.
"Pro Heroes saw you drag Bakugo’s body away from the Search and Recover site."
Mora broke down.
She wasn’t at U.A. to be healed by Recovery Girl. Mora was there to be interrogated and determined a danger or not.
Liars. They were all liars.
Chapter Text
Thirt scrambled up the rocks, avoiding loose and decaying pieces the best she could. Jagged rocks had left cuts across her face. The backpack strapped to her back jostled at the commotion. Her heart hammered.
She’d be safe in a few more feet.
Sweat streaked through the dirt and blood. Hair glued to the sides of her face. One little mishap, and she was dead.
The burns on her shoulder brushed her cheek when she reached further up. Pain flared in her body, shrieking in agony. It felt like her arm was burning itself off from the inside.
It took hours to climb the wall back to the Underworld. Thirt didn’t understand how she could claw her way out of Tartarus, but banished Gods and monsters couldn’t.
She didn’t give two shits as long as she got out and stayed out.
Relief flooded her body when the palm of her hand slapped the smooth floor. The relief only lasted for a moment.
She lost her footing when the rocks beneath her feet crumbled. A hand gripped her arm and pulled her up. Skin-to-skin contact popped a bubble of pain. She screamed.
The person who saved her called for someone in the distance. Tears clouded her vision, but she could sketch out a raven-haired man who beckoned for a taller blond.
Two heads hovered above her. Even in pain, she couldn't help but smile. "Am I in the Underworld?" she asked.
"Yes," the raven-haired man said.
"Finally," she whispered to herself before everything went black.
Will stood at the girl’s bedside. He wanted to assure her she was safe when she woke up.
Whispers floated through the long one-room infirmary. Will found his younger siblings scribbling in their notebooks at the check-in station. Some demigods scattered across the rows of cots, talking amongst themselves at a respectable level.
The quiet hum of the room was a stark difference to the chaos lying just outside the building.
The girl stirred.
"Good morning," he said without looking up from his notes.
She coughed, "Morning."
The notebook fell from Will’s lap as he moved to grab her a glass of water. He eased her into a sitting position and helped her hold the glass to her lips.
"You gave us all a good scare," Will said, "no one could detect your heartbeat. We only knew you were alive because Nico sensed your soul in your body."
"Okay."
Will fell silent. He pondered his next move. The girl could easily still be in shock. A trip to Tartarus was not one to envy.
Will watched her eyes scan the infirmary, expecting something to happen any second. Her shoulders never eased away from her ears.
Will's sisters took charge of her care in the infirmary. He had barely sat down after the go-ahead to take notes of her injuries for himself when she woke up.
“Do you remember your name?”
"I don’t remember. People used to call me 31 when they needed my attention. Sometimes kids call me Thirt for short."
Will scribbled harshly into his notebook. He wanted nothing more than to stab his pen into the jugular of the person responsible. "Do you remember how old you are?"
"Last time they told me, I am seventeen years old."
"Who told you?"
"The doctors."
Heavy steps forced Will’s attention away from his patient. He looked up to see Percy standing beside him. "I thought I’d come by to help."
Will stood up and walked Percy to the opposite side of the infirmary. He whispered harshly, "What number does she make?"
"13 we found, 54 that we can confirm."
"Have the files Annabeth recovered helped any?"
"I can tell you the girl’s name," Percy said. He turned toward her direction, a frown on his face.
"You recognize her, don’t you?"
"She was seven at the time," Percy replied. "I helped her find her dad while Frank, Hazel, and I were trying to find Ella."
"If you know her, why do you look so confused?"
Percy handed him the folder. Will opened it to the picture of the girl in his infirmary. She looked younger, the file’s initial document showcasing a scared twelve-year-old.
"The girl I met in the Multnomah Library wasn’t named Mora Eaton."
"What was her name then?"
"Eliza."
Aizawa tracked Mora down. He was furious at her when he found her, but Mora did not care a single bit.
She had tucked herself into a nook in the school’s library, a book in her lap. It wasn’t like she was trying to hide. "I know why I’m here. There is no point in caring about my well-being now," Mora said.
The man sighed and sat down in the seat next to her. Mora swallowed her pain before she tried to speak again.
"You brought me here under the guise that you wanted to help me, but I should’ve known that was a lie. You wanted me here so you could interrogate me."
"Yes," Aizawa admitted, "we wanted to bring you to the school to see who you are. But we wouldn’t have brought you inside the school’s walls if we thought you were dangerous."
A tear rolled down her cheek.
"You have a strong Quirk. It was evident when Bakugo limped out of an alley with his wounds healed enough that he was out of the hospital in three weeks."
She tried to swallow down a lump in her throat.
"Recovery Girl took the wrong route asking you, and I’m sorry. We want to know how you healed him so well, but can’t do the same for yourself."
Because it wasn’t just me, Mora wanted to say. She may have been able to hold on to his life force long enough to drive him to the hospital, but alone, Mora couldn’t have saved Bakugo.
"Does Bakugo know I helped save his life?" Mora asked instead.
"No, he doesn’t remember walking out of the alley," Aizawa explained, "he said the last thing he remembered before waking up in the hospital was Best Jeanist’s voice."
Good . Mora didn't want him to figure it out. It’d only exacerbate the problems Bakugo already had with her.
Aizawa didn’t say much to her after that. They walked back to the 2-A dorms together, where the girls waited for her.
Aizawa spoke before he left her alone with them. "I don’t care how you did it at this point. I’m just grateful you did."
The girls tangled Mora in the webs of whatever chaos they wanted to inflict in the dorms that night. They tackled and coerced a few of the boys into joining. Soon, an assortment of blankets and pillows covered the living room floor and couches.
"How was your appointment with Recovery Girl?" Todoroki asked while he sat beside her on the couch.
A bowl of popcorn flew over Mora’s head. Uraraka giggled when the bowl plopped itself into Midoriya’s lap.
"I don’t want to talk about it," Mora said, staring at the open credits of the movie.
Ashido told her it was a popular movie in Japan. She turned on the English subtitles just for Mora.
"Did you figure it out at least?" Todoroki pressed.
"What did I just say?"
"Alright, I’ll leave it be for now."
"Thank you," Mora huffed.
The night drew long, and Mora wandered back to her room before anyone else.
She settled on her balcony and watched the stars dance. The moon was the show-stopper, shining brighter than any star in its crescent glory. Her peace was interrupted not long after she settled down for the night.
"Mora?" Bakugo shouted, barging straight into the room and onto the balcony. "Mora Eaton?"
"Nice to see you too, Gremlin," Mora muttered. He sneered at the name.
She returned his glare with an equally pissed-off one.
First, he avoided her like the plague, and then he dared to barge into her space like she was the one in the wrong.
Mora shoved her crutch under her arm and marched into her room. She sat on the edge and pushed her crutch into Bakugo. He fell right into her desk chair.
"What do you want?" Mora asked.
"Mora Eaton," he repeated, ignoring her.
"Yes, that would be my name. Is there something wrong with it?"
"You are not Mora Eaton," he began. "Mora Eaton is dead."
Mora groaned and collapsed onto her bed. If this is how the conversation was going, it would be a long night. "Wow, look at that. You found a coincidence!"
"Don’t be smart with me," he hissed.
Mora sat up, sending him an unimpressed stare. Bakugo huffed.
A book landed next to Mora. She scowled at it. Mora thumbed through the pages. It was in English.
"You know what that is?"
"No.”
"Liar."
"What do you want from me?" Mora threw the book at Bakugo's chest. The book smacked all the air out of his lungs. "All I have done is try to be civil with you, and you turned around and spat in my face!"
"This book," he started again. "This book came from a relative in America."
"So?" Mora spat.
"It talks about the tales of the first heroes of America. Those who were crucial to the acceptance of Quirks. The book follows Mora Eaton."
"That sounds like a nice storyline. One question: what does that have to do with me?"
His knuckles turned white as he gripped the book harder. Anger flooded his eyes, but pain marred his face. Bakugo wanted the book to be factual.
No, not a want, but a need. He needed the story in that book to be true.
With a bang, Uraraka barged in swinging. She swung her metal bat in Bakugo’s direction. Bakugo ducked out of the way before it hit him.
"Who—" she stuttered, her brain waking up from sleep. She groaned and dropped the bat to her side. "What the hell is going on?"
GlassCeilingsAreMyEyes on Chapter 1 Fri 29 Aug 2025 12:33AM UTC
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