Izuku hurried through the forest, leaving scattered foliage behind him. His lungs screamed for a rest, but he ignored their plea, only gripping his fist tighter around the magical compass that was leading him. The reinforcements that trailed behind him were moving much too slow for Izuku’s taste.
They had all been tricked, and there wasn’t a second to lose.
He could hear the sounds of combat up ahead, metal clashing against metal and voices crying out. The ambush had already begun, but there was still a chance that Izuku wasn’t too late.
When he made it to the top of a small cliff, he could see the clearing where the battle raged. Scanning the area with his eyes, he could see his comrades scattered across the battlefield, collapsed and clutching their wounds or still locked in battle with a member of the rival group of rogues that terrorized the nearby villages. His blood froze in his veins when he spotted the leader of the group: Shigaraki Tomura.
Shigaraki’s hand was drenched in blood, and something was held between his fingers. In front of him lay a crumpled, unmoving body with a gaping hole in his chest.
Izuku’s throat tightened like he was screaming, but he couldn’t hear a sound. Shigaraki seemed to sense his presence, turning his head up and looking Izuku directly in the eyes as he wrapped his fingers around the warm, pulsating human heart, and let his magic turn flesh into dust.
“Instead of decaying all of him, I decided I should leave you a little parting gift,” Shigaraki taunted, lightly kicking Kacchan’s body with his foot. “You took Kurogiri from us, and I’ve repaid the debt tenfold. Now, stay out of our–”
Izuku crossed the distance between him and Shigaraki in the blink of an eye, his sword raised and ready to exact revenge. Shigaraki moved to dodge at the last moment, and Izuku’s blade avoided his vitals—but hit something else instead.
When Izuku landed back on his feet, he was holding one of the severed hands that Shigaraki always carried on his body. Shigaraki looked at the hand, and revealed his teeth in a snarl.
“You -”
The sound of the reinforcements approaching just behind the cliff caught his attention. He gave a signal, and all of his allies began to retreat. Shigaraki only stayed behind long enough to toss Izuku one more murderous glance, and then he was gone too. A part of Izuku wanted to give chase and bury his weapon into Shigaraki’s body, to take so much more than a single hand, but a familiar voice caught his attention.
“Midori…ya…”
Izuku turned around and saw Kirishima. The man had sustained serious injuries and his tears were flowing freely as he struggled to crawl where Kacchan’s body lay.
Kacchan.
Izuku knelt next to the body and took in the fact that there was nothing to be done. The heart had been plucked out directly from his chest, which meant no amount of healing potions would mend his wounds and get his blood running in his veins again.
Feeling as if his own heart was being ground to dust, Izuku closed Kacchan’s empty eyes—the eyes of his oldest friend, his partner, the man he had vowed to follow until the ends of the earth.
And yet, he hadn’t been able to prevent this.
Izuku’s body wouldn’t stop trembling, but in his core, something new began to form. A resolve harder than steel, forged in the furnace of his dark, seething rage. He took the severed hand and tucked it inside his belt pouch.
That day, Izuku swore that no matter what it took, he would fix this. He would bring Kacchan back.
“You want to see Kurogiri?”
Izuku had known to expect Todoroki to express doubts at the request. Even though Izuku had been the one to cooperate with the Royal Dragoons by handing the dark mage Kurogiri over to the crown after his and Kacchan’s band had captured him, he was still technically a traitor who had abandoned his post in the ranks after deciding to run away and join his childhood friend’s group of bandits. Izuku had already asked so much of his friend and former comrade, but he was convinced this was the only way.
After ensuring that his other friends managed to survive the fateful battle, Izuku had thrown himself into research to restore Kacchan’s life. For weeks and weeks, he had pored over endless books and scrolls, consulting the sketchiest of practitioners and, to his dismay, plenty of charlatans. His only true clue was an ancient scroll describing a complex revival spell—but Izuku lacked the most important ingredient.
“Kurogiri could have the key to helping Kacchan,” he pleaded. “Please, Todoroki. You’re the only one I can ask.”
Todoroki looked conflicted, but eventually he gave a resigned sigh.
“Very well. But I’ll stay with you the whole time.”
As the son of the Dragoons’ Chief Commander, Todoroki was able to take Izuku into the deepest dungeons underneath the palace, where the dangerous mage was held captive.
Kurogiri was the type of person whose expression was almost impossible to discern, his face perpetually engulfed in a dark shadow with only his eyes glowing through. Still, Izuku could swear he saw a glimmer of something—perhaps surprise—in those eyes when he saw Todoroki lead Izuku towards the cell.
“Do you know about parallel worlds?” Izuku asked without any greetings. He and Kurogiri had little love for each other, and there was no reason to pretend otherwise.
“Of course,” the mage replied. “Multiple realities existing independent of each other, where our own mirror images live so similar and yet so different to us… It is even said that the magic we know today was brought over from another world, hundreds of years ago.”
“And is it true that your portals can open a path to one?”
“Midoriya—” Todoroki sounded taken aback, but Izuku only focused on Kurogiri.
“Is it true?” he pressed.
“I have lifted the veil between worlds for Master Tomura when he has wished to make someone disappear and never be found.”
“And is it possible to return?”
Kurogiri looked at Izuku with something akin to amusem*nt.
“What is it to you? I will not soon forget that you put me behind these bars—why would I aid you in whatever scheme you have in mind?”
Izuku opened his belt pouch and took out the severed hand. Kurogiri twitched.
“Sh-Shigaraki Tomura’s…!”
His hand made a compulsive movement, trying to reach for the hand.
“I’ll tell you how I got this and everything I know about Shigaraki…after you do what I ask.”
Izuku didn’t exactly know why the mage was so protective of Shigaraki, but right now he was happy to use that to his advantage. He demanded Kurogiri open a portal to a parallel world and bring him back after his mission was complete. With fervent glances towards the hand on Izuku’s palm, the mage acquiesced.
“Midoriya, think about this.” Todoroki interrupted, grabbing Izuku’s shoulder and forcing him to meet his eyes. “He wouldn’t help you if he thought it would hinder Shigaraki in any meaningful way. You could be walking straight to your death.”
“I know it’s a long shot,” Izuku said. “But it’s the only chance I have. I have looked for every other possibility, but I can’t bring Kacchan back unless I travel to another world.”
“What could you possibly need from such a place?”
Izuku looked at him.
“A heart.”
Todoroki drew a sharp breath at the words—he was well aware of the events of the battlefield, and Izuku wondered if he understood what Izuku’s mission truly entailed. He prayed that Todoroki wouldn’t try to oppose him.
Todoroki was quiet for a long while. Then, he unfastened the clasp of his green cloak and handed the garment to Izuku.
“...Take this, to remind you that you’re not alone.”
Izuku accepted the gift, taking off his own, worn and tattered cloak and putting Todoroki’s around his shoulders instead. The left side of the fabric felt warm.
“Alright. Todoroki, please tell Kurogiri to open the portal again in three days’ time. If I don’t return, you can assume I failed my mission. Don’t let anyone come after me.”
Todoroki’s face was grim, but he did not protest.
Kurogiri flicked his hand, and a dark, swirling portal appeared just outside the bars of the cell. As soon as the portal appeared, Izuku noticed a faint glow under his shirt. He took out the enchanted compass, imbued with a spell to show his way to Kacchan. It had been a wedding gift, a promise to always reunite if the world tried to tear them apart. The compass had lost its glow after the fateful battle, and seeing it awaken again made Izuku’s chest ache with new hope.
There really was a Kacchan in the alternate world.
Without looking back, Izuku jumped into the portal.
He landed on something soft, but unexpectedly cold. His vision swam for a moment after the bumpy ride, but when he regained his bearings, he saw that he was surrounded by a snowy landscape. Other than that, the world didn’t seem outrageously different—the sky looked just like it did in his home world on a cloudy day, and the trees around him looked completely ordinary, as well.
The considerably lower temperature was a surprise, but the best way to handle that would be to keep moving. Whispering brief words of gratitude for Todoroki’s cloak, Izuku got on his feet and took the compass in hand. It still continued to glow, the arrow pointing him towards his goal.
Traveling in the roadless forest was no easy task. Izuku didn’t see any people or man-made structures on his way, and he couldn’t move nearly as quickly as he would have liked with his feet plowing the freshly fallen snow.
It’s okay, he thought to himself. I have three days. Three days should be more than enough to find him.
There was a very particular reason why he had wanted to visit a world where a version of Kacchan lived. The necromancy spell would only work if the heart he used was connected to the soul of the deceased; otherwise he would only be reviving a hollow puppet. Since Kacchan’s own heart had turned to dust, there was only one way.
Izuku would seek out this world’s Bakugou Katsuki, and bring the man’s heart back home with him—and only his heart.
The forest was enveloping into twilight when Izuku noticed another traveler ahead of him. Despite the different clothes and the distance, he could recognise the build of the body and the blond hair—it was this world’s version of Kacchan for sure.
Pushing the glowing compass under his shirt so its light wouldn’t give him away, Izuku readied his weapon. His presence hadn’t yet been noticed, so he had the upper hand. He couldn’t believe his luck when he saw the figure kneel down to inspect something on the ground, making it even harder for him to evade an attack.
Good. Izuku wished to make this as quick as possible. One clean slash to incapacitate the target, and then…
Swift like the wind itself, Izuku sprinted towards his opponent and leapt in the air for a more powerful strike. He aimed his blade at the exposed nape of his target—only to be intercepted by the largest wolf he had ever seen.
Izuku could feel the sting of its fangs even through his thick leather bracer, hissing as he angled himself to land on his feet; he would be dead meat if he fell on the ground. Luckily, the beast let go of his arm and chose to merely growl at him without attacking again.
His original target was now well aware of Izuku’s presence. He had turned around and assumed a battle stance, his long spear blocking the way to his body.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Izuku ignored the question, merely pulling a knife from his belt to wield in his free hand. If he was to fight against both man and wolf, he could use a secondary weapon.
Art by Mellow-daydreams
With his next attack, Izuku dodged the wolf’s lunge and aimed his weapon at the human once more, but was forced on the defensive by the long spear. Unrelenting, he changed his angle and went for the kill again and again while dancing around the canine’s attacks. He was dimly aware of the wolf’s claws piercing his skin in places and the spear’s shaft dealing bruising hits, but he didn’t really register pain. He had no choice but to win here.
Izuku heard the twang of a bow, and before he could raise his eyes towards the source of the sound, an arrow flashed past his head. Instead of hitting his body, it caught onto Todoroki’s cloak, the force of the projectile throwing Izuku backwards and against the trunk of a tree behind him. He tried to get back on his feet, but the arrow had him nailed on the tree.
“Don’t move. The next shot will go straight through your heart.”
Finally able to get a good look at the surprise assailant, Izuku almost felt like laughing. The man’s moderate stature was compensated by the size of the ram he was riding, holding an arrow at the ready to shoot it at any given moment. His clothes were similar to those of the spear-wielder, but his face was so familiar Izuku might as well have looked into a mirror, complete with freckles on the cheeks and green locks peeking from under the hat.
Three against one and an arrow aimed at him to kill. This was a checkmate.
“Throw your weapons to the side, now,” the doppelganger said. Izuku tossed his knife and sword away, letting them fall beyond his reach. The other lookalike stepped closer slowly and held out the blunt end of his spear, lifting Izuku’s chin to look at him. He jolted when he realized what he was looking at.
“What the hell…”
“That’s…me…?”
They were all quiet for a moment, until a cold gust of wind made them shiver.
“A snowstorm’s coming from the east,” the Izuku-lookalike said. “We should go home and figure this out.”
Izuku’s hands and legs were bound and he was tossed on the back of the enormous ram, his head dangling upside down against the animal’s side.
The home of this world’s Izuku and Katsuki was apparently a small, wooden hut that was more spacious than it seemed on the outside. Izuku was promptly tied to one of the vertical logs that supported the ceiling. As soon as the two inhabitants had made sure the knots were secure, they lost interest in him.
“Kacchan, you’re hurt,” the other Izuku grabbed the arm of his companion to observe a spot where Izuku’s knife had cut the cloth and slashed the skin open.
“Just a little nick,” the blond shrugged.
“It could still be dangerous if it gets infected,” the other insisted. “Take your coat off and sit down, I’ll boil some water to clean it…”
Izuku shivered in the corner as he watched them, heart trembling at the intense sense of deja vu. He had had the same exchange with Kacchan several times, nearly word to word. He could see traces of his memories in the way the other Izuku dabbed a wet cloth over the injured skin, in the way he glanced up at Kacchan’s face to detect signs of discomfort that Kacchan was so keen to avoid showing, in the way Kacchan’s frown smoothed over as he relaxed in the company of the one he trusted the most.
It all pushed him towards a realization he had wished to not make—that the inhabitants of this world weren’t disposable imitations wearing familiar faces. They were as real as anyone Izuku knew from his own world, with feelings and fears and desires of their own. If Izuku had succeeded in his mission, he would have been no different from Shigaraki.
Even though Izuku had stolen many things since he had chosen the life of a bandit, he knew that the heart wasn’t his to take.
He had failed.
The desperation that had driven him forward so far evaporated, leaving behind a cold, dark pit of grief and hopelessness. He would never hear Kacchan’s voice again, never get to touch him and tell him how much he loved him. He wouldn’t even get to say goodbye. Unable to do anything else, Izuku hung his head and wept quietly.
A foot gently prodding at his shin interrupted his descent into misery.
“Your turn, asshole,” came a voice from above.
“H-huh…?” Izuku raised his head in confusion. He had honestly kind of forgotten about the alternate Izuku and Kacchan.
“You’re injured, too,” the other Izuku said, scooting the hot water basin closer to him. “And you look like you’re worse for wear than either of us.”
“Don’t wanna have you dying on us,” the other Kacchan said as he grabbed his spear from where it was leaning against the wall. “Still don’t trust you, though, so no sudden movements.”
Izuku gave a resigned chuckle.
The other Izuku loosened the restraints on Izuku’s wrists and began to take off his shirt, at times having to peel it off from where the fabric had stuck to the dried blood. Noticing the other’s frown, Izuku looked down and the outline of his ribs was more pronounced than he remembered. Then again, food had been little more than an afterthought for him lately.
“As payback for not getting an arrow through your chest,” Kacchan said, “you could tell us who the hell you actually are, and why you attacked me.”
Izuku had absolutely nothing to lose, so he told them everything—about alternate worlds, Kacchan’s demise, the spell that brought him to the world to hunt for the heart that Kacchan could house in his body. It felt good to have the truth pour out of him, like opening a window in a dark and stuffy room.
At the end of his story, the water in the basin had turned into a muddled mix of gray and pink, and all of his wounds had been treated. The alternate world’s Izuku and Kacchan stared at him with wide eyes, visibly incredulous.
“I just have one request,” Izuku said, voice hoarse after talking for so long. “I know it’s impudent to even ask after what I’ve done, but…please, let me go back to my own world. You can keep me tied up and toss me through the portal yourself if you want. I…I have to give him a proper burial, at least.”
The couple exchanged a glance.
“We…have to talk about it,” the other Izuku said.
Izuku’s hands and feet were bound again, and a quilt was thrown over him to keep him warm. The inhabitants of the house went outside, announcing that they would go take care of the animals. Izuku could hear them talking, but couldn’t quite make out more than a word here or there. Exhaustion was finally taking its toll on him, and he started to nod off while listening to the crackle of the fire.
When he woke up, the fire had turned into glowing embers. His gaze wandered across the room, and he saw the other Izuku sitting and mending what looked like Kacchan’s torn tunic.
“Keep your voice down. Kacchan’s sleeping,” he said and nodded in the direction of the fire. Izuku could see blond hair sticking out from under heavy blankets.
“You know…I want to hate you.”
The words were spoken more calmly than their meaning would suggest, the other Izuku’s eyes never leaving the work in his hands.
“When I saw you attacking Kacchan, I…it took all of my self-control not to go for the kill with that first arrow. A part of me still wishes I would have done it. But after hearing your story…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make it right, but the more I imagine losing my Kacchan in that way… I can’t say I wouldn’t be desperate for any way at all to change it, no matter how despicable the method.”
“How does Kacchan feel about it?”
“He thinks you’re an idiot,” the other Izuku chuckled. “But I can tell he doesn’t like seeing you suffer. He seems to have a soft spot for you, and I’m not sure how I should feel about that.”
The conversation died down for a moment, and the other Izuku’s expression grew serious again.
“...Look. I’ve heard of a man who was brought back to life after his heart stopped beating,” he said. “I don’t know any details, and it might be a complete dead end. The place I think they live in is a full day’s trip from here, and if they have moved, we’re completely out of luck.”
He finally looked Izuku directly in the eyes.
“Do you still want to try and meet them?”
It was hardly even a question as far as Izuku was concerned. He could feel the smallest glimmer of hope return to him, fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t even muster words for a moment, just nodding fervently. The other Izuku must have recognized a new spark in his eye, and he gave a small smile.
“Thought you would say that. You’re me, after all.”
The trip was indeed long and arduous. Traveling in the snow was slow, and Izuku couldn’t help but feel anxious as he watched the sun draw its mournfully short arc across the sky before beginning to set again. When the other Kacchan announced that they would make camp for the night, Izuku wanted nothing more than to insist they continue even in the dark—but he knew he had no power to argue the matter. He slept curled against the fur of the wolf, haunted by the distressing dreams that had been his constant companion for months.
It was mid-morning when they finally reached a cabin that the other Izuku claimed was their destination, and the light smoke rising from the chimney seemed to promise good things.
The door was opened by a tall man with strikingly blue eyes and gray hair. He wore an elaborate vest over his tunic, and his hands were clad by gloves that seemed to be more for show than to shield him from the cold or stains.
The man raised his eyebrows when he saw the two Izuku’s bearing the same face, not to mention the wolf and ram behind them.
“May we come in? We have had a long trip,” this world’s Izuku said, bowing respectfully. “We bring you no trouble.”
“Very well.”
The man stepped aside, motioning his guests to come inside.
It was a blessing to be inside a warm house again, even if it made Izuku’s fingers and toes tingle as his circulation returned to normal. The man, who had introduced himself as Tobita Danjurou, served the guests tea that was different from anything Izuku had tasted—it was a rich, reddish-brown color, and the taste was slightly bitter, yet pleasant.
When Izuku explained what he was looking for, recognition bloomed in Tobita’s eyes. Slowly, he removed his glove and unbuttoned his vest just enough to pull the tunic aside, revealing a scar on the left side of his chest.
“Indeed, the heart that once beat in this very chest could not hold out to the end. I didn’t expect to see another dawn.”
Izuku’s hands trembled so much that he set his teacup back on the table, afraid of breaking it.
“Then…it can be done? How can I use that magic? Please, I’ll do anything!”
“That is beyond me, I’m afraid,” Tobita righted his clothes and slipped his glove back on.
The sound of the door opening, bringing a shiver of cold air inside, caused everyone to turn their eyes to the entrance.
“Excellent timing. May I introduce my wife, who is the reason I still draw breath today.”
The woman was called Manami of the Aiba clan. She and Tobita made a comical pair as he was nearly twice her height, but there was an air of ease and warmth between them that made Izuku’s heart throb with longing. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and demand answers, but forced himself to wait as she shed the outer layer of her clothing and kneeled at the low table as Tobita introduced the guests.
“They are here to make use of your…particular ability,” he said meaningfully.
After hearing the story of Kacchan’s premature demise and Izuku’s determination to right the injustice, Aiba was quiet for a while, stroking her berry-red hair thoughtfully.
“The hearts of human beings aren’t static, separate entities,” she finally said. “We trade pieces of ourselves with each other through experiences we share and memories that we make. There’s no way to control or measure these exchanges—all we know is that they happen and sometimes, very rarely, they can lead to things that would otherwise be impossible.”
She put her cup down and looked at Izuku with a stern expression.
“I want you to understand what it is you’re subjecting yourself to,” she said. “I can use my magic to split your heart in two. It will be very painful and difficult for you, and there is no guarantee that it will work. One half will remain in your body, and you have to place the other half into your beloved’s body. If the magic succeeds, it will keep beating—but only if there is enough of his heart residing inside yours.”
“I understand.” Izuku nodded. He didn’t care about pain, and having even the smallest chance of resurrecting Kacchan was worth the risk.
“There’s more,” Aiba held up her hand. “You can’t live with only half a heart, nor can the pieces be stitched back into one. If the heart does not take root, you will also perish. And even beyond that…the two halves are bound together forever. When one stops beating, the other will as well.”
“Bound together, huh…” Izuku clasped his hands over his lap. “In a way, that doesn’t sound too different from what I’ve felt my whole life.”
He turned his eyes to the other Izuku and Kacchan, who were sitting side by side.
“It’s the same for you, too, isn’t it?” he asked. The other Izuku took Kacchan’s hand in his and nodded, eyes full of something resembling pride.
To have the thread of his fate woven so tightly with Kacchan, not only in life but in death, so one would never leave the other behind. Even if the offer came poisoned with the threat of utter defeat, it still felt more a blessing than a curse.
“I understand the terms,” Izuku said, turning his attention back to Aiba. “Please help us! We don’t have much time.”
At Aiba’s instruction, Izuku stripped his torso bare and laid down on a mat spread on the floor. She put several tools on a wooden tray next to him, including a knife decorated with detailed heart motifs. It looked brittle enough to shatter at the smallest contact, but the edge was so sharp it seemed to cut the very air around it.
She handed him a piece of cloth, and Izuku slipped it between his teeth, guessing its purpose without an explanation.
“It’s a procedure rooted in magic, so numbing potions don’t do much good,” she said, glancing at the other Izuku and Kacchan.
“Prepare to hold him down."
The two took positions next to Izuku’s shoulders and his right hip, while Aiba completed her preparations. Then, she took the knife in her hand and gave Izuku a meaningful look. Last chance to back down.
Izuku didn’t take it.
Watching a stranger bring a blade to his body was always a difficult thing to do for one who had honed his instincts for survival. The challenge grew hundredfold when the knife gained a luminous, pink and purple glow just before it pierced into flesh, Izuku’s body firing endless signals to his brain to move, to defend himself, to end the violation that he could not justify to his screaming nerves. The other world’s Izuku and Kacchan were quick to act, putting their weight on Izuku to stop him from spasming and jerking under Aiba’s delicate instrument of agony.
Under the cacophony of his body’s primitive reaction, Izuku found it strange that he did not bleed. As Aiba’s knife cut into him, he could see the blood vessels split apart, but the red inside was covered by the magical light, as if held back from bursting out. But while he may have been granted the boon of not bleeding dry, the sensations spared him no detail of the experience. He felt Aiba’s tiny knife cut into his sternum with impossible finesse, splitting the bone in the middle and allowing her to pull his ribcage open and reach inside for his heart fluttering with the desperation of a trapped bird.
After the day of that fated battle, Izuku had approached a number of his friends and allies with demands to tell him exactly what had transpired before he had made it to the scene. Although his loved ones hadn’t had great desire to revisit those memories themselves, let alone share them for Izuku to torment himself with, it had felt like Izuku shouldn’t be afforded the mercy of glossing over the details. He needed to know the exact weight of the shame he carried, to understand the cost that Kacchan had paid for a mistake that wasn’t his own.
As Izuku watched Aiba pull his convulsing heart from his chest and hold it in her hand, he wondered if he had reached an inkling.
Was this how Kacchan had felt? No, surely he had been beyond sensation at this point, when the heart was no longer in its rightful place. Surely he had not felt Shigaraki’s fingers press into the heart and desecrate the most precious thing Izuku had known.
This trail of reasoning could be followed no further, for when Aiba’s knife began to slice through the heart, the pain chased all other thought away.
Izuku awakened to the feeling of someone jostling his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he saw the blurry reflection of his own face—then he remembered he was still in the alternate world.
“How are you feeling?” the not-Izuku asked warily.
Izuku tried to answer, but only a croak came out of his mouth. His throat felt terribly sore, though he had no memory of screaming.
Aiba appeared from behind him and handed a cup of tea to the other Izuku. Another set of hands—Kacchan—helped push Izuku to a half-sitting position before the cup was brought to his lips. Izuku drank with great enthusiasm, but had to pause to catch his breath after only a few swallows.
“Your body is still adjusting,” Aiba said. “Magic or not, your heart still needs to pump blood to your body with half the strength. It’s best to rest.”
“No time,” Izuku shook his head. He could see daylight peeking in through the windows, which meant that he had slept through the night. “...Portal.”
That was all he could get out, but luckily it was enough.
“You’re right…the three days are almost up,” the other Izuku gasped. He and Kacchan looked at each other.
“The wolf is faster,” Kacchan said.
They made haste to prepare for the journey. All extra baggage was loaded on the ram so Kacchan’s wolf could travel light. Izuku’s body was strapped to Kacchan with the help of Todoroki’s cloak and some rope that Aiba produced from inside the house. Izuku didn’t have much with him—only his weapons and the other half of his heart, which he tucked inside his shirt. It felt just a little bit easier to breathe when the glowing, warm organ was safe against his chest.
The trip was far from comfortable. Izuku shivered constantly despite being sandwiched between Kacchan and the wolf’s body heat, and his body ached with the jostling caused by the animal running through the forest at top speed. He kept shifting in and out of consciousness, and Kacchan likely had his hands full trying to steer the wolf while making sure Izuku didn’t slide off.
Unlike the day when Izuku had arrived, the sky was clear and the rapidly setting afternoon sun dyed the sky in breathtaking pinks and purples. Under normal circ*mstances, Izuku would have found the display beautiful, but now it felt like the colors were spelling his doom. Izuku wrapped his hand around the pulsating half-heart—the part of it that belonged to Kacchan, for better or for worse.
“That’s gotta be it!”
Izuku craned his neck to see, and he was enormously relieved to see the dark, swirling portal. Todoroki had done his part of the deal.
“Sorry…for trying to kill you,” he muttered as Kacchan helped him off the wolf’s back.
“I’ve been through worse,” the other shrugged.
Izuku laughed weakly.
“Show-off.”
They were now right next to the portal. Kacchan looked like he was going to say something more, but decided that there was no time to waste. He pushed Izuku into the portal and yelled:
“Better stay on that side, you hear me!”
Izuku possibly lost consciousness during the trip, because he felt like he was waking up from a long and confusing dream. Then, the nausea struck.
“Midoriya?”
Todoroki’s face hovering above him looked incredibly worried.
“Is…is that…?”
“Long story,” Izuku rasped and tried to pull himself up, only to tumble back on the floor. “Please help me, we have to hurry.”
They made their way to the part of the castle where Izuku had entrusted Kacchan’s body for safekeeping. It was a small side chamber with very little furniture, but the guest didn’t need much: Kacchan lay on the simple bed, tiny ice crystals floating around him. Todoroki had used his magic to functionally halt the march of time.
Izuku supported himself against the bed and nodded at Todoroki, who understood the gesture. He placed his left hand over the body, moving it steadily around to remove the spell. Kacchan’s skin lost its bluish hue, but didn’t quite regain its usual complexion.
Izuku took the half-heart in his hands. It was beating so much more sluggishly now, the magic weakening as it was still unfulfilled.
Even as Izuku opened his mouth, he had nothing to say. No words to communicate how deeply he prayed for the spell to work.
“Please,” he whispered eventually, pouring all of his hope and fear into that single word.
He put the heart inside Kacchan and held his palm over the wound, squeezing his eyes closed.
For one terrifying moment, he felt the heart’s other half still in his chest. Then, it twitched slightly, hesitantly, before settling into a steady if labored beat. He opened his eyes to see the gape under his palm gone, a star-shaped scar in its place, and Kacchan’s chest rising and falling with his breathing. He pressed an ear to the scar, rejoicing how the rhythm of the heart matched the one in his own chest exactly.
“Midoriya…!”
Todoroki’s gasp made Izuku raise his gaze, meeting crimson eyes that he had missed more than life itself. His field of vision was blurred by tears of joy and relief, but that was okay—he didn’t need to actually see Kacchan to plant a gentle, loving kiss against his lips.
“How are you feeling, Kacchan?” he asked after pulling away, caressing Kacchan’s jawbone with his thumb.
“Out of…f*cking breath.”
Kacchan’s body was probably also adjusting to its new limits.
“It’ll pass, I think. Do you think you can sit?”
Todoroki was at their side in a heartbeat, helping to pull Kacchan up. Looking at the other two in turn, Kacchan frowned.
“The hell’s happened here?”
No matter how many times Izuku wiped his eyes, the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. Kacchan was here, alive and safe. For as long as either of them would live.
“First, let’s have a meal,” Izuku said and clasped Kacchan’s hand in his. “And after that…I’ll explain everything.”
Art by Mellow-daydreams
