MHA: Undying

“Oh sweet niblets.” I complain the moment I open my eyes and see that I’m surrounded by UA staff. AKA, half a dozen accomplished pro heroes who all rank in the top hundred for Japan’s hero rankings. Not including Eraserhead, being an Underground hero and all.

Sure, that’s not something I’d typically be overly concerned about, but given the fact that I’m strapped down to a hospital bed and still moderately injured…

Yeah. This is not a good situation to be in right now.

Standing on the foot of my bed, Nezu, the principal of UA, cheerily waves at me. “Hello there-”

“-General Kenobi,” I interrupt, completing the meme. “There you go, the ritual is complete. Can I go home now?”

Present Mic snorts, being hit by immediate regret when some of the glitter still stuck to his face goes up his nose. Ignoring his hacking as he tries to get it out, Nezu chuckles.

“Haha. Of course not.” He stops laughing, peering at me with his beady little eyes. “Now, Midosagi -or do you perhaps prefer Midoriya? Or Usagi?”

I try to shrug, stuck in place as I am. “Since you still have your hero license, Midosagi.” I send a quick glance around the room to confirm that the room lacks the irritating presence of a certain oaf before nodding my head. “Glad to see that your intelligence hasn’t been overstated. And that you aren’t easily intimidated.”

“Of course not.” Nezu says, immediately understanding what I mean. “A delicate situation requires a touch of grace, and he’s already caused enough of an issue as it is.”

“Mhm.” I hum in agreement. “On that we agree. Though the other two aren’t any better. But let's not pretend that we’re here to talk about how much my blood relatives suck. What do you want, rat?”

Eraserhead huffs, scowling when it comes out as glitter. “Watch it, brat. We have you on video confessing to the murder of dozens of heroes.”

I mock gasp. “Who, me? Couldn’t be.”

“Then who?” Midnight asks, a hint of amusement in her voice as she side-eyes her co-workers. Probably since she’s not covered in glitter.

“All For One, obviously,” I say, enjoying the way the room stills. “Oh, did you all think he was dead? Or do you not know who that is?”

“You’re lying.” Nezu says with a flat voice.

I let a grin stretch across my face. “Nope.” I pop the ‘p’, letting it hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “But I guess I can’t really blame you, for not knowing. After all, it’s not like quirks are so strange and varied that someone being able to survive without a head is normally possible. You totally don’t have a student in one of the hero courses who doesn’t have a head, but instead a speech bubble. Or another who can casually remove their head whenever they like. Someone surviving when half their head gets destroyed is absolutely impossible. Nay, it’s inconceivable!”

I give him the best droll look I can from my position. “In a world of quirks, you never assume someone is dead unless you have a body. And even then you double check it’s not a fake.”

There’s a tense silence as the teachers glance between us. Nezu knows I’m telling the truth. I know I’m telling the truth. The dog knows I’m telling the truth. He just doesn’t want to admit it. Because despite having a reputation as one of the smartest beings in the world, All For One’s reputation is larger. Even with how few know of him, his reputation extends a large shadow.

All For One. The Quirk Merchant. King of the Underworld. Sensei. He has had many names over the course of his long life. His reach extends to the far corners of Japan, perhaps even extending beyond its shores. A nightmare that keeps those in the know up at night, fearing for their quirks.

I wonder how they would feel knowing that he’s planning to retire and live in Fiji?

Nezu abruptly hops off my bed and walks towards the door. “We have much to discuss, Midosagi. But for now, rest. You need to recover, and Recovery Girl’s healing can only do so much for an exhausted body.”

The rest of the heroes file out after him, none of them taking their eyes off me as they walk out the door. Midnight is the last, and her quirk fills the room before she closes the door behind her.

I sigh as I feel myself slip back towards unconsciousness. “Man, Himi is going to be so mad at me for getting caught.” But even still, a small smile pulls at my lips as my eyes fall shut.

But at least it will be interesting.

`~`

(Before Izuku woke up)

Heroes comb through the tunnels under the stadium, searching for any signs of the bombs Midosagi claimed to have placed. They’ve been searching for a good thirty minutes, but so far nothing. They checked all the support columns, load-bearing walls, anywhere they could have been placed to cause any significant amount of damage. But they’re all clear.

Eraserhead sighs in annoyance as he rubs the corners of his eyes, on his way to check the preparation rooms. Sure, they’re separated from the crowd so that the participants won’t get distracted while they get ready, but it’s worth a shot.

That is if he was telling the truth and actually planted bombs. He grumbles to himself. But he knows what the threat poses, even with the stadium long since evacuated. They didn’t have enough time to get a proper headcount given everything that was going on, but at the very least most of the people have left.

It’s impossible to get a completely accurate count given how people could have been out grabbing food, gone to the bathrooms, etc while the evacuation was taking place, but they did their best. Still, he can’t help but worry about the students who weren’t at their seats when everything went down. Especially-

Eraserhead comes to a halt as he rounds a corner, the sound of a voice reaching his ears. His eyes narrow as he walks more cautiously, his ears straining as he tries to identify it. If he recognizes it, then odds are good it's lost students, or a hero who’s widened their search area. If not, it’s an accomplice to Midosagi.

But what he doesn’t expect is to recognize it and feel dread rise up inside him. Because-

“-I’m safe, don’t worry. Stay calm.”

-it’s Midosagi’s voice.

He slowly raises his hand to his earpiece, putting him in contact with everyone. He keeps his voice to a whisper as he follows the voice down the hall. “Midosagi has escaped. I repeat, Midosagi has escaped. I’m hearing his voice come from one of the preparation rooms. Moving to engage.”

“Shota, wait-”

But he doesn’t listen to Recovery Girl’s words, because he hears something that causes the blood to rush from his face and prompts him to rush to the door.

“Izuku…”

He hears his student’s voice.

The door slams open, his hair and scarf floating around him as he prepares to take down the villain as quickly as possible. But he doesn’t see a villain. The only person he sees in the room is Todoroki, looking at him in surprise. In her hand is an old tape recorder.

And then there’s a boom, and all he sees are sparkles.

In different parts of the tunnels, heroes open doors to preparation rooms only to be blasted with glitter, much like the Underground hero.

Meanwhile, in the infirmary, cursing and reports are made, causing Recovery Girl to sigh. If any of them had listened to her, they would have known that Midosagi is still unconscious and strapped into the bed in the infirmary. Next to her, Midnight laughs her ass off at being one of the very few who won’t be cleaning glitter out of her ears for the next month.

Midosagi never said what kind of bombs he planted.

`~`

I wake up and after taking a moment to take in the sameness of my surroundings from the last time I woke up, am surprised to see that I’m substantially less bound than before. Instead of straps holding me down against the bed, I’m simply handcuffed to the rails. Though my left arm is almost completely covered in a cast, only my hand is free for whatever reason.

I’m also alone this time, so I have no one to antagonize. I’m sure someone is watching me through the camera in the corner though, so I flip them off with my right hand, instinctively flinching when I do. But no frying pan comes flying at me in punishment, no scolding for trying to find loopholes in the ‘no cursing rule’. Just silence.

I sigh, letting myself flop back onto the bed. It’s cold.

I stay like that, refusing to move. Hours pass with no one entering the room. And I’m content with that. I spend the whole time thinking about all the fun times Himi and I have had together. Not in a ‘we’ll never see each other again’ way, but with a casual fondness. Even if they send me to Tartarus, I know that she and the LoV will get me out as soon as they’re able. And I’d do the same for her. Neither of us would ever settle for anything less.

But for now, me and whoever is on the other side of the camera will play the waiting game. A game I grew up playing. All the time. It took ten years before I stopped waiting for something that would never happen, so they have absolutely no chance of winning.

I admittedly zone out at some point, so I’m not really sure how long it takes for someone to show up. At least sixteen hours, judging by the sensation my stomach is causing. Hunger pains. Which don’t affect me other than as a warning and distraction, since I don’t feel actual pain.

Through the door walks Eraserhead, Underground pro, in his usual outfit that doubles as both casual and hero clothes. Practical, so he’ll always be ready should he need to fight. I approve. My villain outfit is the same way. Though the way his hair still sparkles kind of ruins the intimidation factor.

In his hands is a table, and behind him walks Midnight, who’s carrying a chess board. He puts the table directly next to my bed while shooting me a warning glare, prompting me to snap at him playfully, my teeth clicking together. His glare intensifies as he steps back, letting Midnight lay the chessboard on top almost reverently. Or she’s terrified of scratching any part of it.

After carefully lining up the detailed marble pieces, she steps back towards the bed next to mine and takes a seat. Now that it’s set up, Present Mic enters the room, kicking the door closed behind him since his hands are full with the chair he’s carrying. He puts it on the opposite side of the chess board and retreats back to the door, leaning his back against it instead of leaving.

Finally, Nezu pops out of Eraserhead’s scarf, hopping down into his seat. He delicately raises the white knight on his left side, placing it in the same column as his bishop. He looks at me, challenge reflecting in his beady little eyes.

“Your move, Midosagi.”