The multiverse theory is the idea that there is not only one universe but, instead, an infinite number of universes, parallel to one another.
You and Tenko were heroes in your universe. The war came and went, and that left only you. When you are thrown into a universe parallel to yours, you find out the hard way just how similar and different it is from your own.
A/N: Basically, hero!reader x villain!Shigaraki. I'm still in denial about Chapter 423. Who is she? I don't know her. Anyways, quick disclaimer that the beginning of this story reflects the inner turmoil Horikoshi has caused me. That being said, godspeed, Soldier.
If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Otherwise, enjoy!
♡ ♡ ♡
PROLOGUE
Was that refrigerator always there?
Falling from the sky?
Barreling right for you?
No. No it wasn’t.
You threw yourself to the side just in time for the massive hunk of metal to crash into the pavement where you had been standing. As you released an exasperated breath, you noticed a glint from the corner of your eye. It was a set of kitchen knives flying through the air at an alarming speed.
Their path also appeared to overlap with the space you were occupying. This time, the predicted points of contact were varied and too spread out for you to avoid. They were only a few inches away from impaling you when they stopped midair.
You sighed. Times like these, your quirk really was a blessing. It got the name ‘freeze frame’ once you’d enrolled in UA, but you always felt the name was a bit dramatic. Your quirk allowed you to freeze any nonliving thing within a sphere less than 40 feet in diameter.
You released the blades as you shakily got back on your feet, the metal ringing out as the knives fell against the pavement. Looking around, you couldn’t see the villain your team had been called out to address. However, the yelling and loud crashing coming from a few streets over gave you a pretty good idea of where you could find him.
Your agency had received a number of reports describing a funny-looking man downtown who was materializing kitchen appliances out of thin air. All the while, items being sold at several stores around the area were mysteriously vanishing.
The man himself was just as perplexing. He had a gray buzzcut as well as a long swirly mustache, and he donned what looked like an outfit suited for a medieval jester. Appearances aside, he would be sighted at one location just to disappear and be spotted several blocks down only moments later.
Your team went in under the assumption that he had a teleportation-type quirk.
As soon as you had arrived on the scene, items were being hurled at you left and right. All the while, your coworkers were able to engage the man relatively unimpeded. His ability to pop in and out of existence however he pleased made it difficult for anyone to land a blow or immobilize him.
Your quirk was your best bet at containing him. He seemed to know that as well, keeping you too busy playing professional high-risk dodgeball to do anything.
However, now that you were out of his line of sight, you were relieved of the tiring onslaught of potentially deadly blows. Brushing yourself off, you wasted no time rushing back into the battle, cutting through an alley to the other side of the block in hopes of catching it in time.
You could already see some of the chaos in action as you exited the alleyway, culinary equipment flying through the air accompanied by an occasional shout. As you were about to rush back into the fray, you were forced to skid to a halt.
The man of the hour had materialized just a few meters ahead of you.
On instinct, your arm jerked forward, aiming an open palm in his direction. By the time he noticed you, it was too late. A translucent sphere shot from your hand and expanded to encapsulate him. It appeared as though he was about to clap his hands together, but his clothing froze his arms in place before they could make contact. His face twisted into a scowl.
Your chest swelled with accomplishment as a prideful grin forced its way onto your lips. It had been quite a while since you’d gotten so frustrated over a villain encounter, and finally putting a stop to his nonsense was satisfying.
Walking forward, you reached behind your back to unlatch a pair of quirk nullifying restraints from your belt. You had a plethora of equipment strapped all over your body in order to be prepared for whatever you were called in to address. Most was for rescue assignments, as that was an area your agency excelled at, but you also had to be ready for the occasional villain encounter here and there.
You entered the sphere you’d created to secure the restraints around the man’s forearms. Though nonliving objects within the sphere were frozen, anything new entering it would be unaffected.
Electrical tethers emitted from either wristband, latching onto the other. When you released your quirk, the sphere dissipated and the tethers jerked the villain’s arms together. By design, however, they maintained roughly half a foot between his wrists.
The police rushed to surround the both of you. A few grabbed hold of the villain, dragging him to the cop cars parked down the road, while two others pulled you aside so you could debrief them on the situation. You shared whatever information you had, and as they walked away, a new, unfamiliar figure was bounding up to you.
Their skin and clothing appeared as if it were melting and being sloughed off. You scrambled to remove a large piece of fabric you always had secured to your back and threw it over your friend before she was rendered nude to the world. You’d used to wear three or four at a time when going out on rescues, and it made you look as if you were wearing a ton of capes, trying to be dramatic. However, they served a very real purpose—
Well.
They used to.
Nowadays, you only needed to wear one. Afterall, somebody had to preserve your friend’s modesty.
“Hah…Finally!” Toga sang, enveloping herself in the fabric as the last bits of her disguise washed away. Her blonde space buns looked as if they had just been done up a few minutes ago. Their perfectly put together appearance did not reflect the fact that she had been relentlessly duking it out for the last half hour. “I was beginning to think we had no chance of catching him.”
You glanced over at the car the villain was forced into, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. It was a ways away, but you could just barely make out his face behind the shrouded glass, staring unblinkingly at you.
It wasn’t unusual to have a few glares thrown your way after apprehending a suspect or villain, but for some reason, his gaze sent an ice-cold wave of discomfort through your body. The frigid rain drops that had begun to land on your bare skin only amplified the unsettling feeling.
You thought the weather called for clear skies, but it was completely overcast.
Forcing your eyes away, you sent a soft smile to the girl beside you. “You know I wouldn’t let that happen on our last assignment together.”
Toga’s blissful expression fell.
“I’m sorry I didn’t let you get the last move in,” you chuckled in an attempt to delay what you knew would be a difficult conversation.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way…” she hummed, looking down as the skin under her eyes as well as the tip of her nose began to flush, “I’m gonna miss you always being there to save the day.”
Your dear friend was moving on from your agency to a much larger hero organization. After the war, several countries agreed to band together to create a group of stellar heroes who would tend to assignments all over the world. The position was offered only to the best of the best or to those with particularly useful quirks–the selected few would receive private training as preparation for the jobs to come. It was no surprise to anyone that they reached out to Toga, impressed by her skill and versatility.
Many aspects of her new job would be confidential–which you could understand–and communication with those outside the organization would be extremely limited. So although you were elated about the news, you were also understandably upset.
Her hair tickled against your cheek as you pulled her into a hug. “Give yourself more credit. I’d never be able to pull anything off if it weren’t for you always setting me up for success.”
She wrapped her arms around you and pressed her cheek against yours. Her skin was mostly cold and wet from the rain but there were also warm tears intermingling with everything else. You could feel your eyes starting to burn and glaze over.
“You’re going to be amazing,” you murmured.
You felt her nod, and the two of you held each other for a while before she finally pulled away, the redness in her face dissipating. She puffed up her chest and gifted you another one of her signature smiles.
“I’m ready,” she said.
You nodded with taught lips.
She took her leave, waving a hand with a fistful of the fabric you’d wrapped around her. “I’m keeping this by the way!”
You choked out a laugh.
You were happy for her. Really you were. She was only a year younger than you, and she had stuck by your side through the majority of your high school years, following you to the agency you worked at now. You two had worked together for almost the entirety of your hero careers.
Working without her by your side would be a difficult adjustment. Recently, there were many aspects of your life that changed in ways you weren’t too fond of. As a result, you were beginning to grow used to having to adapt to such undesirable circumstances.
But this was good for her. She could start a new chapter in her life, and leave behind the dark stain the war had left on you both. She was still young, and there was so much left for her to work towards. Her new position would be perfect for setting her in the right direction.
You, however, had become far too attached to the life you had before. The relationships and dreams you held dear were wrenched away, leaving you grasping for empty air. Whether it was due to unwillingness or lack of energy, you couldn’t find it in you to rebuild what you had lost.
“Goodbye, Toga. I’m gonna miss you.” Your arms hung at your sides as you fought to retain a smile that felt too heavy for your face.
She turned to look back at you over her shoulder as she trotted away, her eyes squinted from her abnormally large grin. “I’m gonna miss you, too! Make sure to take good care of yourself!”
Of course. That was no challenge for you.
Your definition of ‘taking care’ was akin to tending to a houseplant or a pet hamster. You made sure you’d eat and drink water. You spent more than enough time sleeping. And you settled on hero work as your preferred form of enrichment.
A couple years ago, it would have been something like video games or training. Maybe it would be those rare but oh-so-joyful nights where the whole agency would go out to celebrate a promotion or someone rising up the hero ranking.
A couple years ago, you wouldn’t have to worry about taking care of yourself. If you didn’t, one of your friends would be on you in a heartbeat, nagging at you to get your shit together. Spinner and Toga would snitch to Magne, and she’d waste no time in hunting you down.
A couple years ago, you were in the midst of a war between heroes and villains. You had full faith in yourself as well as your allies that you’d all save the country, if not the world, and live to tell the tale.
The moon is full, but the village below is none the wiser as black clouds blanket the sky, moonlight replaced by lightning, streaking and cracking endlessly through the night. Beyond the village is a steep, rocky hill, and atop that hill sits a lonely stone tower, teetering on the edge of collapse.
Metal rods protrude from the rooftop, creaking and groaning as they’re thrashed by the harsh winds, and they lead to a large complex machine within. At its center is a glass tank filled to the brim with pigmented fluid, which, occasionally, spills over the rim as gusts slip through gaps in the stone walls. It produces a subtle glow, illuminating the room just enough to see the Doctor’s expression–lips taught, creases between his brows, lower eyelids squinting slightly, framing his intense stare.
It mirrors your own but for very different reasons, you’re sure. The Doctor is leaning forward, propping himself up with a splintering wooden chair. His grip on it is tight, but his fingers continue to fidget. Then there’s you, slightly shrinking into yourself, holding your writing paper to your chest as if it's a shield. Your pounding heart is intensifying by the second.
This isn’t the first time this experiment has been conducted, and at this rate, you’re fairly certain it won’t be the last. Every attempt so far has failed. You’re used to that being the case by now, but it’s those few times…those few times where a ‘failure’ gets a little further than the others. That is the outcome you stress over most.
That outcome means you won’t be leaving the laboratory unscathed.
The silence between the two of you is filled with the howling and rumbling of the storm outside. Each bolt of lightning lights up the chamber, and your heads jerk up to stare intently at the murky tank. Each time, you’re plunged back into the dark with only the slightest bit of light emanating from the vat of chemicals.
There’s a flash and crack so loud you feel it in your bones. The floor is shaking beneath your feet and you barely catch the jagged streaks of electricity coursing through the metal rods and into the machine. It fully illuminates the tank to reveal the silhouette of a man suspended within, back arching as the lightning rushes through it.
The machine groans as metal grinds against metal and smoke puffs from the joints in the piping. The various parts appear to slump as they make one last creak before going quiet.
The tension in your body dissipates–another failed test.
Your back straightens, and you release a shaky breath as you look down at your papers. You’ll have to write up a report identical to a dozen others. You think you prefer it that way. Slouching, the Doctor slowly lets go of the chair and mutters curses as he turns around to go back to his work desk.
The silence returns, this time filled with both disappointment and relief.
The next few days will be filled with repairs. You walk forward to disengage some of the mechanical components, releasing some of the built up pressure within the pipes. The rusted knobs are cold and rough, and they squeak loud and unpleasantly as you turn them.
Maybe that’s why you don’t notice the massive glass tank judder behind you.
You’re walking back to the Doctor when you hear a deep pop followed by a crack from behind you. You spin around just in time to see the tub falling from its metal frame. The pipes that were previously attached to it are showering the room with chemicals, filling it with a pungent odor–sulfuric.
Alarmed, you shout for the Doctor as you rush forward in an attempt to stabilize the tank, an absurd decision on your part. The only way that ends is with you being crushed beneath it.
It crashes against the floor before you can even reach it. The liquid spills over the rim just before the glass shatters. You step on the pieces and slip. The ground is hard and cold when you collide with it. Your head is spinning, and you get to your hands and knees just to be knocked onto your back by the body–the failed Nomu.
You’re sprawled out, clothes and hair thoroughly saturated as the body lays across your lap and lower abdomen. As you prop yourself up a harsh chill racks through your body from the feeling of the naked hodge podge of corpses on top of you; it’s cold and stiff. You hesitantly reach out to push it away but pause before running your thumb across the deep stitched up incisions that wrap around its arm. You remember how it felt to weave a needle through the tough, dead skin, much more difficult than working with something still alive.
A low moan emits from the Nomu, your hand freezes, then it shifts in your lap, head rolling to the side to face you. Its eyes blink open to reveal blood-red irises, a slight haze of white film making them appear cloudy. You get the sense its looking through you until they flicker up to meet your gaze, and you go tense.
Then it winces and curls in on itself, releasing an even louder, strained groan. Your heart is battering against your ribs, but you gentle rub the creature’s arm in an attempt to soothe it. Its arm lifts to grasp onto your shirt.
You hear loud footsteps splashing over to you, and the Nomu is yanked off and away from you.
“It’s–I–I think it’s–”
“It’s alive…” the Doctor finishes your sentence for you, face alight with excitement.
You don’t get even a moment of reprieve as he ushers you into action, ordering you to take his place as the Nomu’s crutch. Eyebrows pinched, those red eyes never leave you, even as soaked powder-blue hair falls in front of them. You find your place against its side, arms wrapped around its waist to keep it from teetering. It’s shivering.
The Doctor is talking to himself, boasting about his success and how eager he is to report the good news. He examines the Nomu as you keep it from collapsing, and you startle when you feel its arm press against your back. You get the sense that it’s trying to mimic the way you’re holding it, and your eyebrows twitch.
You’re too focused on the creature to realize the exam is complete and the Doctor is taking his leave. You only snap back when he orders you to move his new creation somewhere it can be contained.
He also gives it a name. Tomura.
You do as you’re told, carefully shuffling the weak Nomu–Tomura–out of the lab and down the narrow staircase. The first few steps are challenging to coordinate, and your bodies bump against each other as you struggle to stay in sync. Gaps in the wall meant to let in light during the day now allow gusts of wind to blow through, whipping your hair against your face.
Gradually, you make your way down to one of the few unoccupied chambers that isn’t actively crumbling away. It’s cold and damp from the gaps in the stone wall that fail to separate indoor and outdoor conditions. There’s a constant whistle from the wind sweeping across the exterior of the tower.
You don’t recall a time when this room was in use, so it is no surprise that there are no lamps or candles to shed light across these dingy walls. The only things you in here with you are a wooden bedfram and a secretary desk, both rotting away.
You lead Tomura to the bed for him to sit, and as you bend over to make the transition a little easier, he becomes off balance. He stumbles and, because of the way you’re latched onto each other, so do you. The wood creaks, giving way slightly as you collapse onto it together in a heap.
Tomura releases a soft groan as you attempt to clamber off of him, careful of your hand placement as you do so. You adjust him so he’s sitting up, albeit a bit slumped, and watch him for a moment.
His skin is a mosaic of stitched-up incisions, each piece a slightly different shade, but everything about him contains a sickly undertone. His head hangs but his eyes are open and staring back at you. You feel small and vulnerable under his gaze, and your breathing is shaky as you shift closer to move him so he’s lying down instead.
You’ve done as you were told, so there’s no reason for you to linger–part of you is eager to leave and let this night be over with–but you decide to sit with him for a while longer, for observation purposes. At first, you feared he would be hostile, but from what you’ve seen thus far, he appears to be docile.
You brush his wet bangs out of his face to look closer at his eyes. At some point the white film faded, leaving his irises more vivid than you imagined. You’re disappointed and confused when he shuts them. You notice your hand is still entangled in his hair and quickly draw back. Tomura grunts, and his eyebrows slowly press together. It almost looks like he’s frowning.
The room is cold. You can’t imagine how Tomura must feel without any clothes, and you wonder just how much he’s capable of processing external stimuli. You should get him something to cover up and stay warm with, just in case he’s cold, too.
Opening his eyes, Tomura finds the strength to push himself up and groans out when you stand up and walk to the door. It’s hard not to notice the way the rise and fall of his chest quickens the further away you get. He starts shifting to the edge of the bed.
“No,” you say quickly, and he pauses. “I need to go.”
His eyebrows knit together, and he makes a disgruntled noise in response before sliding a leg off the bed frame.
“No,” you repeat and walk over to move him back. “I’ll be back.”
You wait for any sort of response from him, but he’s silent and still even as you leave the room. You hurry further down the tower, your footsteps echoing through the staircase, until you reach the room the Doctor has lent out to you as you help him with his research. It’s smaller than the one you found for Tomura, but you don’t mind much. You pull a basket holding a stack of extra linens out from underneath your bed and gather them into your arms.
You try to be swift as you ascend back up the tower to return to Tomura’s chamber, but the sound of clattering urges you to go even quicker. You come to a clumsy halt when you see Tomura stumbling past his doorway. His eyes are wide and his facial features have contorted into something harsh and unpleasant. A shiver crawls its way down your spine.
You’re hesitant to call out. “Tomura.” His eyes dart over to look down at you, and you frown. “You need to go back inside.” You’re not sure how much he truly understands, but you try to reason with him anyway.
His hunched shoulders heave as he sucks in a deep breath and takes an unsteady step in your direction. His legs buckle, and he crumbles against the stone wall but continues to inch in your direction. The hairs on the back of your neck rise, partly due to the cold that creeps its way through the halls of the tower and partly due to your nerves.
Tomura huffs as he reaches the first step leading down to you, and you urge yourself to do something other than just stand there. Your quick steps echo off the stone as you rush to him before he stumbles closer.
He pauses when you stop just in front of him, reaching out as far as you can without letting the linens drop to the damp floor. He copies you, hand hovering in the space between the two of you. You stare at it then look up at him. At some point, his expression softened, eyelids more relaxed and lips lifted from their earlier grimace, the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen from him.
You take his outstretched hand and move around him to give a gentle tug towards his room. He doesn’t put up a fight and lets you direct him back inside. You let him go to close the heavy wooden door behind you and place the stack of blankets on top of the desk, giving them a soft pat to flatten them out.
You don’t need to hear him to know Tomura is looming behind you, his presence thick and potent. Taking a sheet from the top of the stack, you face Tomura and hold it out, offering it to him. He looks down then back at you.
You raise your hands a little higher and say in a soft tone, “These are for you.”
He raises his arms up in a way that makes you think he’s mirroring you rather than understanding what you want from him. Still, you place the sheet in his hands and grab another for yourself, walking over to lay it across the bed frame for cushioning. Tomura follows you over and drops his sheet onto the bed in a crumpled ball on top of the one you neatly laid out.
You cover your mouth to stifle a surprised laugh and glance up at him with crescent eyes. He looks back at you, and the corners of his mouth twitch into an unnatural grin. His lips are dry and look as though they might crack if he smiles any wider.
You continue to make him a bed to the best of your ability, handing him a few more blankets as you go just for him to toss them like he did with the first one. You wonder if it’s to get a reaction out of you like before, but last you checked, the Nomu aren’t supposed to have that much cognitive freedom. The Doctor is creating them to take orders, and that’s it.
As the wind continues to whistle across the exterior of the tower, you can’t help but think it might be nice to have another person to talk to. It’s only you, the Doctor, and whoever the Doctor reports to here. Socializing is a foreign thing within these walls.
It’s lonely.
“Tomura,” you say as you lay out the final thick blanket across the rest, “Do you want to sit down and try it out?”
He looks at you, then the bed, then you again. You sit down to show him what you mean, and he follows suit, the bed creaking under his weight.
“How do you like it? Comfier now, isn’t it?” You smile at him, even though it’s likely you’re just talking to a wall. You can still see goosebumps across his forearms and decide you’ll wrap him up next. It’s a little awkward being around a naked man anyways, regardless of his condition.
“To—To—” his voice comes out as an unsteady rasp. His vocal chords were stripped from a corpse, so that doesn’t come as much of a surprise. What does, however, is that he can talk at all.
“Tomura,” you finish hesitantly, assuming that’s what he’s trying to say. You stay quiet for him to respond, but he doesn’t.
You breathe out a soft sigh and grab one of the wadded blankets he dropped earlier. As you rise to your knees to wrap it around him, you feel heat radiating from his body. As you adjust it, his skin gives, no longer stiff with rigor mortis.
Your brows furrow, and you don’t miss the way he does the same. You purse your lips before sitting back, earning a huff from Tomura. He frowns, bottom lip pouting, subtle enough for you to miss.
There are a few uncomfortable moments of silence where the two of you stare at each other and do nothing else. You’re each waiting for the other to act first, and eventually, you give.
“Tomura,” you repeat, glancing to the side. He takes in a sharp breath, and when you look back at him, his features have relaxed some. You release a shaky exhale and reach towards him to adjust the blanket so it covers his lap for modesty. Your hands linger as you elaborate, “That’s you.”
His chest swells beneath your fingertips. “You.”
You lean back again, and his eyes narrow. It’s unnerving, and you retract a hand but leave the other to press firmly against him—against his chest, where his beating heart hides behind skin, bone, and muscle.
“You—” Your fingers give a gentle tap. “—You are Tomura.”
He frowns again, and this time, you copy him, hand slowly pulling away.
“You,” he says again with a voice that puts the wind and thunder to shame. Your heart lurches when he throws a hand into your chest, knocking you backwards onto your palms.
You figure the moment of peace is over and begin scooting away. The Nomu before him, the ones who also had brief moments of life, were mellow at first, too.
Until they weren’t.
He leans forward to grab you by the shoulder and pull you back to him as if you weighed nothing. Your breathing is rapid and your heart pounds in your ears as you clutch to his arm with trembling hands. You’re trying to pry him away, but he doesn’t so much as budge. He glowers down at you through his tangled bangs, eyes wavering between yours.
“You.” There’s nuance behind his voice, a demand, maybe even curiosity. Your eyes widen and lips part. He does understand.
He does…
Your vice-like grip on him loosens as your body relaxes. You tell him your name, and his eyebrows rise.
Then, he says it back. His hand releases you and glides down to hold your arm so gently you almost can’t feel it. His breathing slows in sync with yours as his rough thumb brushes against your skin. He repeats your name once more under his breath, eyelids lowered and a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Kurogiri, hiring League members: Whats your reason for becoming villains?
Dabi: Rejected by my father
Magne: Rejected by society
Spinner: Also rejected by society
Toga: Rejected by my parents
Kurogiri: I see. And I imagine you were rejected by someone as well?
Mr Compress: Me? Oh no, I just like causing problems
The moon is full, but the village below is none the wiser as black clouds blanket the sky, moonlight replaced by lightning, streaking and cracking endlessly through the night. Beyond the village is a steep, rocky hill, and atop that hill sits a lonely stone tower, teetering on the edge of collapse.
Metal rods protrude from the rooftop, creaking and groaning as they’re thrashed by the harsh winds, and they lead to a large complex machine within. At its center is a glass tank filled to the brim with pigmented fluid, which, occasionally, spills over the rim as gusts slip through gaps in the stone walls. It produces a subtle glow, illuminating the room just enough to see the Doctor’s expression–lips taught, creases between his brows, lower eyelids squinting slightly, framing his intense stare.
It mirrors your own but for very different reasons, you’re sure. The Doctor is leaning forward, propping himself up with a splintering wooden chair. His grip on it is tight, but his fingers continue to fidget. Then there’s you, slightly shrinking into yourself, holding your writing paper to your chest as if it's a shield. Your pounding heart is intensifying by the second.
This isn’t the first time this experiment has been conducted, and at this rate, you’re fairly certain it won’t be the last. Every attempt so far has failed. You’re used to that being the case by now, but it’s those few times…those few times where a ‘failure’ gets a little further than the others. That is the outcome you stress over most.
That outcome means you won’t be leaving the laboratory unscathed.
The silence between the two of you is filled with the howling and rumbling of the storm outside. Each bolt of lightning lights up the chamber, and your heads jerk up to stare intently at the murky tank. Each time, you’re plunged back into the dark with only the slightest bit of light emanating from the vat of chemicals.
There’s a flash and crack so loud you feel it in your bones. The floor is shaking beneath your feet and you barely catch the jagged streaks of electricity coursing through the metal rods and into the machine. It fully illuminates the tank to reveal the silhouette of a man suspended within, back arching as the lightning rushes through it.
The machine groans as metal grinds against metal and smoke puffs from the joints in the piping. The various parts appear to slump as they make one last creak before going quiet.
The tension in your body dissipates–another failed test.
Your back straightens, and you release a shaky breath as you look down at your papers. You’ll have to write up a report identical to a dozen others. You think you prefer it that way. Slouching, the Doctor slowly lets go of the chair and mutters curses as he turns around to go back to his work desk.
The silence returns, this time filled with both disappointment and relief.
The next few days will be filled with repairs. You walk forward to disengage some of the mechanical components, releasing some of the built up pressure within the pipes. The rusted knobs are cold and rough, and they squeak loud and unpleasantly as you turn them.
Maybe that’s why you don’t notice the massive glass tank judder behind you.
You’re walking back to the Doctor when you hear a deep pop followed by a crack from behind you. You spin around just in time to see the tub falling from its metal frame. The pipes that were previously attached to it are showering the room with chemicals, filling it with a pungent odor–sulfuric.
Alarmed, you shout for the Doctor as you rush forward in an attempt to stabilize the tank, an absurd decision on your part. The only way that ends is with you being crushed beneath it.
It crashes against the floor before you can even reach it. The liquid spills over the rim just before the glass shatters. You step on the pieces and slip. The ground is hard and cold when you collide with it. Your head is spinning, and you get to your hands and knees just to be knocked onto your back by the body–the failed Nomu.
You’re sprawled out, clothes and hair thoroughly saturated as the body lays across your lap and lower abdomen. As you prop yourself up a harsh chill racks through your body from the feeling of the naked hodge podge of corpses on top of you; it’s cold and stiff. You hesitantly reach out to push it away but pause before running your thumb across the deep stitched up incisions that wrap around its arm. You remember how it felt to weave a needle through the tough, dead skin, much more difficult than working with something still alive.
A low moan emits from the Nomu, your hand freezes, then it shifts in your lap, head rolling to the side to face you. Its eyes blink open to reveal blood-red irises, a slight haze of white film making them appear cloudy. You get the sense its looking through you until they flicker up to meet your gaze, and you go tense.
Then it winces and curls in on itself, releasing an even louder, strained groan. Your heart is battering against your ribs, but you gentle rub the creature’s arm in an attempt to soothe it. Its arm lifts to grasp onto your shirt.
You hear loud footsteps splashing over to you, and the Nomu is yanked off and away from you.
“It’s–I–I think it’s–”
“It’s alive…” the Doctor finishes your sentence for you, face alight with excitement.
You don’t get even a moment of reprieve as he ushers you into action, ordering you to take his place as the Nomu’s crutch. Eyebrows pinched, those red eyes never leave you, even as soaked powder-blue hair falls in front of them. You find your place against its side, arms wrapped around its waist to keep it from teetering. It’s shivering.
The Doctor is talking to himself, boasting about his success and how eager he is to report the good news. He examines the Nomu as you keep it from collapsing, and you startle when you feel its arm press against your back. You get the sense that it’s trying to mimic the way you’re holding it, and your eyebrows twitch.
You’re too focused on the creature to realize the exam is complete and the Doctor is taking his leave. You only snap back when he orders you to move his new creation somewhere it can be contained.
He also gives it a name. Tomura.
You do as you’re told, carefully shuffling the weak Nomu–Tomura–out of the lab and down the narrow staircase. The first few steps are challenging to coordinate, and your bodies bump against each other as you struggle to stay in sync. Gaps in the wall meant to let in light during the day now allow gusts of wind to blow through, whipping your hair against your face.
Gradually, you make your way down to one of the few unoccupied chambers that isn’t actively crumbling away. It’s cold and damp from the gaps in the stone wall that fail to separate indoor and outdoor conditions. There’s a constant whistle from the wind sweeping across the exterior of the tower.
You don’t recall a time when this room was in use, so it is no surprise that there are no lamps or candles to shed light across these dingy walls. The only things you in here with you are a wooden bedfram and a secretary desk, both rotting away.
You lead Tomura to the bed for him to sit, and as you bend over to make the transition a little easier, he becomes off balance. He stumbles and, because of the way you’re latched onto each other, so do you. The wood creaks, giving way slightly as you collapse onto it together in a heap.
Tomura releases a soft groan as you attempt to clamber off of him, careful of your hand placement as you do so. You adjust him so he’s sitting up, albeit a bit slumped, and watch him for a moment.
His skin is a mosaic of stitched-up incisions, each piece a slightly different shade, but everything about him contains a sickly undertone. His head hangs but his eyes are open and staring back at you. You feel small and vulnerable under his gaze, and your breathing is shaky as you shift closer to move him so he’s lying down instead.
You’ve done as you were told, so there’s no reason for you to linger–part of you is eager to leave and let this night be over with–but you decide to sit with him for a while longer, for observation purposes. At first, you feared he would be hostile, but from what you’ve seen thus far, he appears to be docile.
You brush his wet bangs out of his face to look closer at his eyes. At some point the white film faded, leaving his irises more vivid than you imagined. You’re disappointed and confused when he shuts them. You notice your hand is still entangled in his hair and quickly draw back. Tomura grunts, and his eyebrows slowly press together. It almost looks like he’s frowning.
The room is cold. You can’t imagine how Tomura must feel without any clothes, and you wonder just how much he’s capable of processing external stimuli. You should get him something to cover up and stay warm with, just in case he’s cold, too.
Opening his eyes, Tomura finds the strength to push himself up and groans out when you stand up and walk to the door. It’s hard not to notice the way the rise and fall of his chest quickens the further away you get. He starts shifting to the edge of the bed.
“No,” you say quickly, and he pauses. “I need to go.”
His eyebrows knit together, and he makes a disgruntled noise in response before sliding a leg off the bed frame.
“No,” you repeat and walk over to move him back. “I’ll be back.”
You wait for any sort of response from him, but he’s silent and still even as you leave the room. You hurry further down the tower, your footsteps echoing through the staircase, until you reach the room the Doctor has lent out to you as you help him with his research. It’s smaller than the one you found for Tomura, but you don’t mind much. You pull a basket holding a stack of extra linens out from underneath your bed and gather them into your arms.
You try to be swift as you ascend back up the tower to return to Tomura’s chamber, but the sound of clattering urges you to go even quicker. You come to a clumsy halt when you see Tomura stumbling past his doorway. His eyes are wide and his facial features have contorted into something harsh and unpleasant. A shiver crawls its way down your spine.
You’re hesitant to call out. “Tomura.” His eyes dart over to look down at you, and you frown. “You need to go back inside.” You’re not sure how much he truly understands, but you try to reason with him anyway.
His hunched shoulders heave as he sucks in a deep breath and takes an unsteady step in your direction. His legs buckle, and he crumbles against the stone wall but continues to inch in your direction. The hairs on the back of your neck rise, partly due to the cold that creeps its way through the halls of the tower and partly due to your nerves.
Tomura huffs as he reaches the first step leading down to you, and you urge yourself to do something other than just stand there. Your quick steps echo off the stone as you rush to him before he stumbles closer.
He pauses when you stop just in front of him, reaching out as far as you can without letting the linens drop to the damp floor. He copies you, hand hovering in the space between the two of you. You stare at it then look up at him. At some point, his expression softened, eyelids more relaxed and lips lifted from their earlier grimace, the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen from him.
You take his outstretched hand and move around him to give a gentle tug towards his room. He doesn’t put up a fight and lets you direct him back inside. You let him go to close the heavy wooden door behind you and place the stack of blankets on top of the desk, giving them a soft pat to flatten them out.
You don’t need to hear him to know Tomura is looming behind you, his presence thick and potent. Taking a sheet from the top of the stack, you face Tomura and hold it out, offering it to him. He looks down then back at you.
You raise your hands a little higher and say in a soft tone, “These are for you.”
He raises his arms up in a way that makes you think he’s mirroring you rather than understanding what you want from him. Still, you place the sheet in his hands and grab another for yourself, walking over to lay it across the bed frame for cushioning. Tomura follows you over and drops his sheet onto the bed in a crumpled ball on top of the one you neatly laid out.
You cover your mouth to stifle a surprised laugh and glance up at him with crescent eyes. He looks back at you, and the corners of his mouth twitch into an unnatural grin. His lips are dry and look as though they might crack if he smiles any wider.
You continue to make him a bed to the best of your ability, handing him a few more blankets as you go just for him to toss them like he did with the first one. You wonder if it’s to get a reaction out of you like before, but last you checked, the Nomu aren’t supposed to have that much cognitive freedom. The Doctor is creating them to take orders, and that’s it.
As the wind continues to whistle across the exterior of the tower, you can’t help but think it might be nice to have another person to talk to. It’s only you, the Doctor, and whoever the Doctor reports to here. Socializing is a foreign thing within these walls.
It’s lonely.
“Tomura,” you say as you lay out the final thick blanket across the rest, “Do you want to sit down and try it out?”
He looks at you, then the bed, then you again. You sit down to show him what you mean, and he follows suit, the bed creaking under his weight.
“How do you like it? Comfier now, isn’t it?” You smile at him, even though it’s likely you’re just talking to a wall. You can still see goosebumps across his forearms and decide you’ll wrap him up next. It’s a little awkward being around a naked man anyways, regardless of his condition.
“To—To—” his voice comes out as an unsteady rasp. His vocal chords were stripped from a corpse, so that doesn’t come as much of a surprise. What does, however, is that he can talk at all.
“Tomura,” you finish hesitantly, assuming that’s what he’s trying to say. You stay quiet for him to respond, but he doesn’t.
You breathe out a soft sigh and grab one of the wadded blankets he dropped earlier. As you rise to your knees to wrap it around him, you feel heat radiating from his body. As you adjust it, his skin gives, no longer stiff with rigor mortis.
Your brows furrow, and you don’t miss the way he does the same. You purse your lips before sitting back, earning a huff from Tomura. He frowns, bottom lip pouting, subtle enough for you to miss.
There are a few uncomfortable moments of silence where the two of you stare at each other and do nothing else. You’re each waiting for the other to act first, and eventually, you give.
“Tomura,” you repeat, glancing to the side. He takes in a sharp breath, and when you look back at him, his features have relaxed some. You release a shaky exhale and reach towards him to adjust the blanket so it covers his lap for modesty. Your hands linger as you elaborate, “That’s you.”
His chest swells beneath your fingertips. “You.”
You lean back again, and his eyes narrow. It’s unnerving, and you retract a hand but leave the other to press firmly against him—against his chest, where his beating heart hides behind skin, bone, and muscle.
“You—” Your fingers give a gentle tap. “—You are Tomura.”
He frowns again, and this time, you copy him, hand slowly pulling away.
“You,” he says again with a voice that puts the wind and thunder to shame. Your heart lurches when he throws a hand into your chest, knocking you backwards onto your palms.
You figure the moment of peace is over and begin scooting away. The Nomu before him, the ones who also had brief moments of life, were mellow at first, too.
Until they weren’t.
He leans forward to grab you by the shoulder and pull you back to him as if you weighed nothing. Your breathing is rapid and your heart pounds in your ears as you clutch to his arm with trembling hands. You’re trying to pry him away, but he doesn’t so much as budge. He glowers down at you through his tangled bangs, eyes wavering between yours.
“You.” There’s nuance behind his voice, a demand, maybe even curiosity. Your eyes widen and lips part. He does understand.
He does…
Your vice-like grip on him loosens as your body relaxes. You tell him your name, and his eyebrows rise.
Then, he says it back. His hand releases you and glides down to hold your arm so gently you almost can’t feel it. His breathing slows in sync with yours as his rough thumb brushes against your skin. He repeats your name once more under his breath, eyelids lowered and a ghost of a smile on his lips.
♤ Ghost! Shigaraki who lurked in your home and scared you. He loved watching you jump and scream when he knocked things over or scratched his nails against the wall.
♤ Ghost! Shigaraki whose presence sent a cold shiver down your spine and made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.
♤ Ghost! Shigaraki who liked to pull your hair or clothes while you got dressed to go out.
♤ Ghost! Shigaraki who scared your friends or dates off because he wanted to be the only one who was close to you.
♤ Ghost! Shigaraki who appeared in flashes behind you when you stood in front of mirrors in your home.
♤ Ghost! Shigaraki who liked to trail behind you when you turned off the lights and raced up the stairs to your room. He got a laugh out of acting out a scene he saw so many times in horror movies.
♤ Ghost! Shigaraki who liked to sit on the bathroom counter and whisper your name while you showered. He enjoyed the way your heartrate picked up and the way you froze.
♤ Ghost Shigaraki! who picked up the habit of leaving dead bugs in random places around the house because it annoyed you.
♤ Ghost! Shigaraki who left little clues for you to find. He once left you a picture of his dog, Mon and an old hairclip his sister loved. He gave you little glimpses into his life before he died.
♤ Ghost! Shigaraki who was shocked when one day he heard you talking to him.
"I know you're there. Are you lonely? Is that why you keep scaring me?"
Your words echoed in his mind and he went silent for weeks. Was he lonely? He'd always chalked it up to having fun but your question stung. How long had he been alone before you'd moved in here?
You were worried that you'd made him angry until, one day, you were coming back from the grocery store and as you opened the door and stepped in, a dead spider fell onto your shoulder.
Needless to say, you shrieked in surprise and swatted it off, when realization kicked in. You huffed before speaking out loud.
"That's such a mature way of making a comeback Ghostie,"
Your words were followed by the feeling of a flick to the forehead.
"Very funny," You'd rolled your eyes.
♤ Ghost! Shigaraki who tilted his head when you left a notepad with small notes on the kitchen table and a pen.
"What's your name?" You'd wrote.
"Why do you care?" Was written on the page the next morning.
"You've been haunting me for two years. I think I have a right to know," You'd scribbled before you left for work.
"My name's Tenko Shimura," He whispered as you fell asleep.
♤ Ghost! Shigaraki who stood behind you one day as you got ready for bed. You saw him in the corner of your eye but he didn't make a move.
"I... I have to go," He'd said suddenly.
His red eyes bore into yours as you met his gaze in the mirror. The frown on his face pulled the scar at the corner of his lips down as he spoke.
"Go? Go where? You're literally a ghost," You'd laughed.
"I can't stay anymore. I was trapped here because of an unfulfilled desire and now it's been granted," His eyes were filled with tears.
"Unfulfilled wish? Tenko what are you talking about?" You eyebrows furrowed.
"When you die.. you're supposed to cross over. I couldn't because I had regrets. I'd always hoped to find someone who could love me for who I was but everyone pushed me away. They treated me like an outcast and when I died.. that wish became an anchor that held me back," A tear glided down his cheek, "I was alone for so long until you came. You brought life back into these walls. You brought warmth and comfort. You didn't chase me away even when I scared you. I.. I was happy. I fell in love with you,"
"You.. love me?" Tears welled up and spilled over.
"I think I'll always love you. Even when I'm long gone. Even when I'm reborn. I'll find you and I'll fall in love with you all over again. And I'll give you the chance to love me too," He reached out and stroked your cheek, "But you have to let me go now. Let me go so I can find you one more time and love you in a life where you can touch me too,"
That night there was no flash of light or a voice that called him. He was there as you both shed tears over what could have been had he lived or been able to stay with you in spirit. He was there until he wasn't and you woke to an empty house.
For years, there was no tapping on your walls, no random bugs on the table, no whispers of your name and no one chasing you up the stairs at night. Yet, you still spoke to him.
You spoke to him when you met someone. You asked for forgiveness that you weren't able to love him in this life. You spoke to him even on your wedding day. You spoke to him when you gave birth to your son.
"His name is Tenko," You'd whispered.
And when you drew your last breaths you spoke to him, "Find me Tenko Shimura. You promised,"
Imagine you and Tomura are out on a mission, when you hear the distinct sound of crying— a baby crying.
You follow the noise and find a baby, lying on top of garbage bags in a dumpster.
You go to pick them up and Tomura stops you, “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks.
“We’re not leaving them here.” You argue, as if he’s stupid.
“You’re not seriously suggesting we take a baby back to the hideout? We’re not babysitters. The league isn’t a place for babies.” He argues back, as if you’re more stupid.
“Tomura, they’re a baby. They’re helpless… defenseless… vulnerable! What if it were you all alone in an alleyway, begging for help?” you ask.
Tomura pauses as he stares at you, his eyes drifting over to the baby, but his mind clearly fixated on something else.
He sees snippets of him walking the streets alone, small, and scared. Begging for someone— anyone— to do something. Like a nightmare, he remembers taking refuge in an alleyway, his tiny hands still covered in dried blood. Why won’t anyone help?—
“Tomura?” You ask, him snapping out of his thoughts. He looks down in his arms, realizing he’s holding the baby.
He quickly places the baby in your arms. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me when you can’t handle playing house anymore.”
—
Cut to hours later, Tomura is sitting with the baby in his lap as he plays Mortal Kombat. “That’s called a Fatality.”
The multiverse theory is the idea that there is not only one universe but, instead, an infinite number of universes, parallel to one another.
You and Tenko were heroes in your universe. The war came and went, and that left only you. When you are thrown into a universe parallel to yours, you find out the hard way just how similar and different it is from your own.
A/N: My roommates and I totally got knocked tf out with the bad luck stick. This chapter already went through the first rounds of edits, and I was going to do a final round... but that was just not gonna happen today. So please excuse any typos or whatnot <3
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Organization for Transformative Works
Otherwise, enjoy!
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CHAPTER FOUR
Toga made an unpleasant face when you dropped your large wad of rain-soaked clothing into her open arms. She was the lucky duck that was chosen to escort you on your trip back to the hotel. It turns out she was typically the one volunteered to run errands and shop for the boys thanks to her quirk being perfect for going out undetected.
For your brief outing, she took on the form of the woman you’d seen outside the convenience store with Shigaraki the night prior. Her pretty face was contorted in distaste as it was clear she wanted nothing more than to drop the soggy pile on the marble tiled floor. Unfortunately for her, you had to check out of the hotel first, and you needed both hands free in order to do that.
You thanked the receptionist with a friendly smile and dipped your head politely before turning to leave. Toga was quick to shove your hero suit into your belly, forcing you to take it back from her. She had enough strength behind it to make you stumble back a step or two.
“Agh! That was so not cool,” she complained as she rubbed her wet forearms off on her sweater.
You rolled your eyes. “It wasn’t even a full minute. You’re fine.”
“You could have at least warned me! That felt so gross.”
You snickered at her, receiving a childish pout in return. But then, your smile dropped, and Toga’s body stiffened as the two of you spotted a pair of police officers passing through the entrance of the hotel.
You pushed against Toga, directing her to the outskirts of the foyer, which was decorated with a generous number of potted plants that would give you cover. It was hard to feel completely hidden when your arms were full of not only your dripping clothing but also several bags from the light shopping you had done before coming here. Making a silent escape would be a feat.
Maybe you were overreacting. The officers would never be able to recognize Toga with her current disguise, and you were much older than your villainous counterpart. Surely, you looked different enough to slip by without catching anybody’s eye…
But that was probably a reach.
“They don’t know what you look like,” Toga whispered to you, tugging on your sleeve to get you walking towards the exit. She always had a knack for knowing exactly what was going through your head. It was somewhat comforting that this version of her was the same way. Then again, it could very well be that you were just easy to read.
You gave her a questioning look. You remembered seeing pictures of yourself in villain garb during your little research project this morning. They had to at least have an idea of what you looked like. Then again, you recalled that in each of them you had been wearing a mask.
You glanced back over at the cops who were walking up to the receptionist, and you allowed Toga to pull you away. You were almost out the door when you overheard a piece of their conversation.
“—card statements alerted us that she booked the night here. She’s been missing for over a week now.”
“Oh…What did you say her name was again?”
You knew you should just keep walking—you were almost out of view—but the sound of your name caused you to look back out of habit. Just then, the receptionist’s wide eyes locked onto yours. She looked confused, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for her words.
“Go,” you hissed, pushing Toga out the door and causing her to trip over her own feet. Your firm hold on her shirt kept her from falling as you hauled her out of the building and down the sidewalk. She whined and tried to wiggle out of your hold.
The hotel was supposed to be your last stop. You decided then that you would have to tack on a few extra to be sure you wouldn’t be tailed. The last thing you wanted was to lead the police straight to your villainous friends’ hideout. The two of you filed into the nearby station, and just as you reached the platform, one of the trains pulled up. You wasted no time in hopping on.
You never imagined you’d be the one running from authorities.
And now that you were, you hated it.
The way your head spun and your heart raced. How your hands were shaking so badly you were struggling to hold onto your bags. The anxiety that rushed through your veins, overwhelming and taking over your mind with dread over what was to come.
You knew you weren’t a villain, and realistically, you shouldn’t actually be in any trouble. They were looking for you because, in this world, you had a missing person’s case. If they caught you, the worst-case scenario would be an interrogation into why you disappeared. You wouldn’t be arrested for any real crime.
Still, you couldn’t help but panic. Maybe it was because you were with someone who was wanted as a villain. Even then, she was unrecognizable in her disguise. Most likely, you were so worried because never before had you been the one the authorities were after. You never imagined you’d find yourself in this type of situation—and you certainly didn’t know how to get yourself out of it.
In the end, you weren’t really the person they were looking for—rather, you were just a doppelganger of sorts—and you had no explanation for them if they did bring you in for questioning. You knew close to nothing about your past in this world. There was no way her life had been identical to yours considering the vastly different outcomes.
She had money, but how did she get it? A proper job or crime?
Who were her closest friends?
Where did she live?
Your best bet if you were ever caught was to fake amnesia, you reckoned.
Your heartrate only slowed down after seven or so stops. Toga was patient with you, but you could tell she was getting antsy and eager to get off the train. It was maybe the tenth stop when you finally stood up to leave.
The train let you off at a street full of shops and bustling people, very similar to the one you’d gone to earlier in the day. The air was full of chatter loud enough to be heard over a cacophony of music resulting from various playlists intermingling. Had you been in a mall, the music may have been a bit more in sync, but this was what happened when multiple stores want to create an ambience for their customers.
Getting to the end of each block proved to be quite the chore as Toga’s attention was caught by every other window display. She whined about how she never got to buy nice things for herself anymore because she had no money. Needless to say, your soft heart would give in, and you’d walk away with her beaming and admiring her new apparel.
Your attention was caught at one point when you passed a shop selling a variety of used gaming consoles. Some of the posters taped to the front entrance were advertisements for games Tenko and Iguchi had introduced to you. Toga didn’t bat an eye, continuing on her way, but you paused to wonder, if you hadn’t died in this world, would you make similar memories with Shigaraki and Spinner?
You missed the days when the three of you would gather at one of your homes. Beanbag chairs and a plethora of pillows would be gathered in front of a TV, surrounded by a mountain of snacks to last you days. Tenko never failed to provide enough energy drinks to kill a horse. He wanted to ensure that you—in a food coma bliss—wouldn’t pass out before it even hit midnight.
The sun would be peeking over the horizon, and your bloodstream would still be saturated with caffeine, resulting in you badgering them mercilessly to prevent them from nodding off. You’d be buzzing in your seat as the three of you played on, framed by two zombies who wanted nothing more than to knock you unconscious. Once he had enough, Tenko would pull the plug and drag your whining ass to the makeshift beds Iguchi had set up earlier in the night. You’d only settle down after several minutes of Tenko’s arm latching you to the floor.
You’d like to think that your counterpart shared experiences akin to your own. Although, you wouldn’t be terribly surprised if being wanted criminals took precedence over finding the time and money to play games through the night.
You turned away from the shop to follow Toga back to the hideout.
Twice was quick to jump on you both as soon as you walked through the door. He wanted nothing more than to dig through the bags of new goodies you brought with you. Compress wasn’t so invasive, but he still hovered to catch a glimpse at whatever was pulled out. When Twice reached the plastic bag you used to carry your soaked garments, he made an alarmed noise and shoved it off on Compress who was also fairly displeased.
“What on Earth is this?” he said, aghast.
“It’s my hero suit… It was raining in my universe before I was sent here, so it got totally soaked through,” you explained, taking the clothing back from him.
“Oh, I was wondering why you looked so miserable last night!” Toga chimed. You pursed your lips.
“Anyway, I’m gonna go get changed into something a bit more palatable,” you said, digging through a large paper bag full of new clothes.
You glanced over at him as he lounged across one of the battered sofas, gnawing on a candy bar. You couldn’t necessarily blame his distaste for heroes being that he was on the receiving end of their dutiful efforts. It was more understandable given you knew just who they really were—without this universe’s societal views blurring your beliefs into following them instead.
“Of course not,” you said as you pulled out a cozy pair of pants along with a soft sweatshirt.
“So, your morals align with theirs then,” he said, and you didn’t miss the mildly sinister undertone in his voice. You looked back over to see his eyes boring into you. He was waiting for your response, his body visibly tense. It was clear that the wrong answer would trigger an exchange with an unappealing outcome, and that seemed to be what he anticipated, though his deep frown suggested he preferred that not be the case.
“No…” you said softly, watching him carefully. You felt like Shigaraki wouldn’t think twice about going after you while your back was turned. You knew Tenko would never do that, but you also knew he was passionate about his world views, intense and driven to defend them. With him already being on the opposing side of the law, you weren’t sure where Shigaraki drew the line when it came to fighting for what he believed in. You’d like to think he was as sensible as you remembered.
Thankfully, you wouldn’t need to find out today. “No, the heroes here were my enemies where I come from.”
He scrutinized you, gauging whether to believe you or not, but after a moment, his narrowed eyes and tensed muscles relaxed. “Mm,” he grunted in acknowledgement before turning his attention back to his food, pretending to investigate whatever was written on the wrapper.
Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked back down at the outfit you picked out. You hadn’t noticed your heartrate was elevated until that moment, feeling it slow down.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit curious as to what we’re like as heroes,” Compress pondered, a hand tucked under his chin.
“Me, too!” Toga said and attached herself to your back, putting most of her weight onto you. “Are we, like, so awesome?”
You glanced over your shoulder at her and chuckled. “Oh, definitely, but I’m sure you’re just as awesome here.”
She giggled before pestering you to share more.
So, you did.
“Our agency’s focus was mostly on rescue. We were usually the first to respond to natural disasters or the destructive aftermath of villain activity. Sometimes we’d be given assignments to gather intel to help out other agencies,” you explained.
“I’ve got a hard time believing Dabi’s good at rescue. He should just scorch them!” Twice butted in.
“I said mostly,” you laughed. “Dabi… kind of had his own role.” Speaking of, both he and Spinner were missing from the common area. “Is he around right now?”
“No,” Shigaraki clipped with a mouthful of food, “He’s out recruiting for us.”
“What about Spinner?”
You didn’t miss the way his eyes shot over to look at you, causing a slight shiver down your spine. You couldn’t pinpoint why, but in this universe, his energy had a menacing edge to it.
“He’s sleeping.” Shigaraki swallowed his last bite and dropped the wrapper beside him. “Why were you using past tense?”
“Was I?” It hadn’t even crossed your mind. Apparently, Compress noticed it, as well, nodding along as if he would have asked about it if no one else had. Toga and Twice seemed confused, looking between you and Shigaraki.
You drew back slightly. Telling all of them about the tragedy that had struck your group felt wrong… You understood that things were different here, but you also didn’t want to put meaningless fear into their heads. They wouldn’t be playing the same roles as they did in your past, so it wouldn’t make any sense for them to face the same fate.
“I guess…I guess it’s because I’m technically from the future?” You shrugged with a shamefully false smile. Lying about this didn’t feel all that great either. What if—because of weird universal parallel laws or whatever—they will meet the same ends as they did in your world? If telling them could change that, then that’s what you would want to do.
You would do anything to change what had happened to your friends.
Spinner’s words from earlier in the day rang through your head. There was still a chance that manipulating their timeline could create a paradox, the aftermath of which could be devastating—according to the limited SciFi media you’ve consumed on that subject matter.
You wanted to rip your hair out. You hated being in this position, and you were eager to get out of it. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too long for you to hunt down Dai Uchuu and convince him to send you home.
There was a sharp tug at your heart.
It occurred to you that home wouldn’t have all the people you cared so much about. That should have been obvious, but it was easier to forget than you’d think. Still, that’s where your life was, and you had to live with the outcome of your own battles.
You pushed past that uncomfortable feeling with a little help from Toga and Twice badgering you for more details on their lives as heroes.
You continued to tell them about Toga’s success and promotion, and how Twice was invaluable for his productivity and utility on the field, amplifying everyone else’s capabilities tenfold. Compress and Tenko were excellent at clearing debris, freeing anyone trapped or injured. There were a few people you brought up who the others were unfamiliar with, such as Minji, Sakiko, and other old classmates of yours.
You wondered if they had yet to meet.
“That sounds like so much fun,” Toga said. She was plopped down in front of you, hugging her knees to her chest as she listened to you share stories about where you came from. She stared at the ground with a blank expression. “I wonder how we ended up so different.”
“Me too,” you muttered
“I’m glad we’re not heroes,” Shigaraki spouted, kicking his legs off the couch so he could sit up. His eyes settled on you.
“What?” you asked, a bit jarred by his comment. “Why? I can’t imagine living in hiding is all that fun.”
“Because we don’t have to conform to the shallow ideals of society. Heroes like to act like they keep the peace when, in reality, they turn a blind eye to those they deem beneath them. I’m not interested in playing pretend.”
You blinked.
Some heroes could be like that sometimes, but they were the vast minority. Most of the people you knew were genuine and loved being given the opportunity to help others. You were sure Tenko felt the same as you, but Shigaraki’s opinions were the stark opposite.
You assumed that could be attributed to the fact the heroes here were just as corrupt as the villains you knew them to be. Shigaraki was their villain, and they were his enemies. If you were in his shoes, you probably wouldn’t want to join the opposing team either.
The energy in the room had changed, and you all silently agreed to drop the topic. Toga stepped into the spotlight to start showing off everything you’d bought her, which led to Twice begging you to buy stuff for him, as well. Compress tried to be subtle about it, but it was clear he wanted in on the gift giving by the way he began listing items he lost or wished he could buy.
At some point, Dabi had returned, and Spinner had risen. Dabi made a b-line for the scarce looking bedroom, but Spinner was eager to join in the conversation. He was a little less self-centered about the things he thought you should buy, more so concerned with what the group needed as a whole.
Shigaraki was silent from his spot on the couch, seemingly uninterested in the conversation, but his eyes were locked onto you all the while. There were a few moments where you’d look over but quickly look away when you saw he was still staring. It felt like he was in deliberation with himself regarding your presence, like he had yet to decide whether he’d let you stay or not.
You weren’t kept in suspense too long.
Spinner was in the middle of arguing with Twice about needs versus wants when Shigaraki butted in to announce you’d be staying with Toga overnight. Then he left, you assumed to retreat to his own bedroom. Compress and Twice turned in not long after, but Spinner hung around until Toga dragged you away to give you a tour of her room.
Hers was the one that looked like a bomb had gone off inside. Her clothing was overflowing out of her wardrobe and across the majority of the carpeted floor. You could barely see her bed underneath the mountain of plushies she’d accumulated, and you had to watch your step to be sure you did crush any of the scattered makeup.
You were soon thankful her messiness made you more attentive of where you were walking, because you noticed the gleam of a knife peeking out from beneath her clothing. You crouched down and carefully picked it up. “Um… Toga? Why do you have this in your room?”
She gasped as her eyes widened and a gleeful smile stretched across her face. She pranced over to you. “You found it! I’ve been looking everywhere for that!” She plugged it from your hand and held it to her chest, giggling and skipping away to find a new home for it.
Okay…
You elected to ignore her absurd behavior in favor of helping her clear a spot on the ground for you to sleep. She began handing blankets and pillows off for you to arrange however you preferred.
You dodged an oversized teddy bear, covering your head for safekeeping. You lowered one of the fluffy pillows being lent to you to send a playful glare at Toga as she rifled through her stuffed animals. She began pelting you with anything she thought would be a good addition to your makeshift bed.
“This is gonna be so fun!” Toga sang as she tossed another plushie in your direction. You caught it this time. She turned around to start helping you gather everything into a somewhat bed shaped pile. “Tomura and I just bought a bunch of snacks and stuff, too—Oh, that’s when we found you!”
“Right. You guys left some stuff behind, by the way,” you hummed with a soft smile. You tucked a blanket around your mound of a mattress to help it keep its form. “I tried to give it back, but you guys were long gone, so I returned it to the clerk.”
“Hm, I would have kept it if I were you,” she said, side-eying you. “I know where Jin’s food stash is. I’m sure he wouldn’t care if we took some.”
“He wouldn’t care if you asked? Or wouldn’t care because he wouldn’t notice?” you catch, giving her a suspicious look. She grinned wide, showing off her sharp canines.
“Jin’s a sweety. He’ll understand,” she said, waving her hand as if she was shooing away the conversation topic.
You finished working on your sleeping arrangements, and Toga dug around in her closet for anything she could use to give you a makeover. You were offended at first with the way she chose to phrase it, but you could recall all the times you’d spent with your Toga. The horrors she put your hair and skin through had long since been buried away—way more than six feet under.
Your body was stiff as she began working with your hair.
“If only Magne were here, too. The three of us were planning a girls’ night before—” Toga paused, looking off to the side as she emitted a strained hum. “She said it would be good for team building.”
You looked down at your crossed legs.
Losing Magne was hard. No one could have anticipated such an outcome. The planning that had gone into that assignment felt endlessly meticulous not only for guaranteed success but also to avoid serious casualties. Everyone believed all bases had been covered.
But reality never goes exactly as planned.
There was no plan to account for the unexpected adversaries. No plan when so many of your allies’ lives were at risk. There was no plan to prevent Magne from jumping ahead to act as a buffer. She made her own plan, and she went through with it, and she succeeded. She saved all those lives at the cost of her own.
You weren’t sure how she passed away in this timeline, and you didn’t feel it would be appropriate to ask, but you had no doubt it was for something just as noble. This world may have deemed her a villain, but you knew her as a hero. You knew her ideology and goals, and it was a shame she—like all the others—wasn’t recognized for it.
You wanted to know how the morals of this society got flipped around. How were the real villains able to pull it off?
With copious manipulation tactics, you were sure.
“Were we ever able to hang out?”
“Huh?” You blinked back to attention. To be fair, you both had gone silent for a minute, allowing your mind to wander. “Oh. The three of us?”
“Mm,” she affirmed.
“Yeah…” You began picking at your nails. “Yeah, we got to hang out a decent amount.”
Her hands, which were busy at work with your hair, slowed down. “What kind of stuff did we do?”
You weren’t sure what to say. You wouldn’t have to worry about causing any paradoxes, since your stories were in both of your pasts at this point. Still, it wasn’t good to dwell too much on the past, or on what could have been.
That probably made you a hypocrite, but you weren’t too keen on taking your own advice on such matters.
“Magne would take us shopping sometimes,” you said softly. “Our work studies didn’t pay all that well, and she felt bad, so she’d want to buy us all sorts of things while we were out.”
“Like a big sister,” Toga suggested, her hands returning to her normal pace.
“Or a cool aunt or something.” You smiled and turned slightly to look over your shoulder at her. Her eyes were focused on her hands, but she was smiling, too.
The multiverse theory is the idea that there is not only one universe but, instead, an infinite number of universes, parallel to one another.
You and Tenko were heroes in your universe. The war came and went, and that left only you. When you are thrown into a universe parallel to yours, you find out the hard way just how similar and different it is from your own.
A/N: And the moment we've all been waiting for!!
♡
If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Otherwise, enjoy!
♡ ♡ ♡
CHAPTER THREE
You staggered down the hall as best you could. The majority of your joints had been encased in hardened clumps of clay from your last match. It turned what should have been a mindless task into quite the obstacle.
Carefully putting all of your weight onto one leg, you would swing the other in front of you before transitioning your weight to that one. It was tedious, as there were a couple times your balance was off and you’d wobble for a few seconds before regaining your footing.
You felt like you were practicing for the next Lego movie.
Every few minutes, you would pause to hammer at the clay deposits with a metal water bottle you’d found on a bench. You didn’t know whose it was, but you’d be sure to return it once you were done.
Part of you hoped it belonged to the bastard student that put you in this situation to begin with.
You understood that the UA Sports Festival was all about competing and whatnot, but the guy could have at least removed the clay once the round was over. Now, you were stuck being somewhat incapacitated until you got it all off.
You were barely making a dent with the water bottle, so you prayed that the nurse had something in her arsenal that could at least help you wiggle out.
You leaned down once more to start battering away at the large clump around your knee. By the time you realized your footing was off, it was too late as you slowly began falling forward. You yelped and waved your arms around in hope of regaining your balance, but it was all for naught.
Your body thudded to the floor, and you could hear metal ringing as the water bottle bounced and rolled out of reach. Groaning, you rolled onto your back and sat up as best you could. It took a moment before you concluded that you likely wouldn’t be able to get up without being able to bend your knees.
Maybe if you pushed yourself into a split, you could slowly inch your legs closer and closer together?
No. Even if you could get into the position, you would only be able to push yourself up as far as your arms could reach, then you’d be stuck again.
Finally, you rolled onto your belly, deciding that imitating an inch worm would be your best bet. You were able to make some progress as you pushed your butt into the air and walked backwards with your hands.
You were almost to a 90 degree angle before the clay plastered to the front of your shoes lost traction and began to slide away. Cursing under your breath, you quickened the movements of your arms, but rather than pushing you up, you were pushing your entire body backwards down the hall.
Until your feet caught onto something behind you.
Tilting your upper body around to look, you saw a pair of legs, and your feet were lined up perfectly with theirs. Immediately, you dropped back down to the ground and turned onto your butt to face the teenage boy. Your face was already burning up from being caught in such an awkward position, and when your eyes met the stranger’s, the heat flourished to your ears and neck.
“Oh, jeez. I’m sorry…” You adjusted your arms to better support you sitting up while you showed off a lopsided grin. “I just had the–uh–sudden urge to do some yoga. No one was around so I figured there was no better time than the present.”
The boy, no doubt an upperclassman, with crimson eyes and jet-black hair stared at you for a moment before kneeling down.
“Downward dog?” he asked as he reached forward to touch one of the massive clay chunks engulfing your knees. “I thought that pose was supposed to be stationary.”
“I took some creative liberty with it.” You looked away for a moment before you quickly jerked your leg away from him. “What are you doing?”
His eyes were harsh as they flickered up to your face. He grabbed hold of your leg and pulled it back toward him, causing you to fall back.
“Hey!” you yelped. Pushing yourself back up onto your elbows, you shot a glare at the stranger.
He paid you no mind and cupped one of your knees with his hand. “Helping. You were clearly struggling.”
“I think you and I have different definitions of help—"
The clay began crumbling away as if it were made of sand.
“Woah…” You stared as he freed you from your earthen shackles.
You bent your knees and elbows once all the clay was removed. Standing up never felt so good. You turned to thank your savior only to see he was already walking away.
“Uh, hey!” you shouted and trotted after him.
He looked at you from the corner of his eyes when you matched his pace.
“Thanks for that. I was gonna go to the nurse, but I don’t think she would have been much help,” you gleamed, watching him with a wide smile.
“It was no problem,” he said while keeping his gaze ahead of him as you trotted along at his side.
♡ ♡
Your footsteps echoed through the ominous hallway as you kept pace with Shigaraki. You were certain he thought you were out of your damn mind after you regaled him with all that had happened to you. He seemed the most interested when you expressed your detest for the ‘heroes’ of this society.
“So…when did you dye your hair?” you asked to break the painfully uncomfortable silence you’d fallen into.
He looked at you out of the corner of his eye but kept walking. “Never, why would I?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” you said and made a gesture towards your own head. “But your hair used to be black. What happened?”
“I don’t remember,” he grumbled, scrunching up his nose. “That was a long time ago.”
“Your hair’s supposed to be black.”
He made an exasperated noise and began walking faster. You had been bouncing questions off of him for the majority of your journey. He had been patient with you for the most part, but you knew you could only push him so far before he got fed up.
“Hey!” You quickened your pace to catch up. “Tenko, wait—”
You thudded into him when he stopped abruptly and spun around to face you.
“Don’t call me that,” he warned, piercing into you with his eyes. “I shouldn’t have to tell you again.”
Your gaze bounced between both of his eyes before you stepped back. The two of you stayed that way for a moment before he turned around with a huff and continued down the hall. You followed in silence.
Shortly after your public freak-out, he corrected you for calling him Tenko. He went by Shigaraki Tomura here. You weren’t sure why he took on the surname of your sensei, but that was the least of your concerns. He also insisted that the people who were heroes have always been heroes, and the same went for the villains.
You were beginning to come to terms with the fact you were most likely in some kind of alternate reality. It wasn’t comforting by any means, but it was the best explanation you’d come up with thus far.
\Your eyes bore into Shigaraki’s back. He was vague when you asked where he was taking you. However, the warehouse you were in now was the same one that filled the space your agency once occupied. It felt somewhat eerie. You were walking through the ghost of the building that should have been there with a person who should be dead.
In a weird way, it was also comforting.
He led you through another open corridor and stopped at a large set of double doors. He paused for a moment, trying to be subtle as he glanced back at you, before pushing one of the doors open for you to walk through.
You waited for him to go in first, but you quickly got the message he was waiting on you. He stared you down as you passed by him. You felt as though you were under a microscope, like he was analyzing even your slightest movements and expressions.
To be fair, you were staring, as well. He was clearly much different than the person you remembered, and you had yet to figure out just how much of him was the same. You loved Tenko, but you also knew he could be touchy at times, so it was best for you to test the waters before diving in.
Upon entering the dilapidated room, you froze.
You had dreamt more dreams of your old friends than you could count. And not even one could compare to what you were seeing right now. You never would have imagined you’d find yourself in a room with everyone all together again. But here they were.
Everyone looked a little different, but even so, the familiarity that rushed through your veins made your eyes prick with tears. Your heartrate was picking up as your eyes darted around the room.
Years. It had been years since you’d last seen half of the people standing before you. You’ve stood beside them countless times before, and you’d imagined it many times since. However, in this moment, you were at a loss for words.
How often is it that you get to be reunited with your late comrades?
You opened your mouth to say something—anything—when your eyes landed on Jin, and you choked on whatever words were about to come out. Your throat constricted. It felt like everything around you was fuzzy, but it was clear around Jin. He was all you could see.
His death was something you would never forgive yourself for. Had you been where you were supposed to be, it never would have happened. Instead, you were distracted and acting on impulse. By the time you’d finally gotten to his side, it was far too late. In the last few moments you had with him, he never blamed you, not once, but you knew. You knew that you could have changed that outcome.
The memory of the way he had clung to you and wept was haunting.
You took a shaky step forward, your bottom lip quivering. You would have embraced him, but he beat you to it. His arms were wrapped so tightly around your shoulders, and you had to stand on your tiptoes as you were raised above the ground.
He choked on a sob of his own. “I knew you couldn’t really be dead. Good riddance!” Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, dragging you down with him, and began rubbing his face against the top of your head.
“Jin…” you whispered.
“You really got us good. I totally fell for it! Worst prank ever!”
Another pair of arms grappled you from behind and their tear-soaked face pressed against the back of your neck.
“I couldn’t believe it at first…” you recognized the voice as Toga’s, “but you’re really here!”
“I don’t—What are you talking about?” you stuttered. Your body trembled under the weight of your friends, and your mind was reeling as you tried to comprehend what they were saying. “Why would you say that? Why would you think I died?”
“Because we buried you ourselves. That’s why.” You looked up to see Iguchi walking towards you, his face a blank slate you couldn’t read. “So that begs the question, how did you dig yourself out of your own grave?”
“Iguchi—”
“You’ve never called me by my real name,” he cut in, raising his chin to look down his nose at you. “Who are you?”
Your confusion vanished, and all you could see was red. Your body grew impossibly tense, fists balled so tightly your nails would leave crescents on your palms.
“That’s such bullshit,” you spat as you pulled away from the arms of your friends to stand up abruptly. Your glare was booring through his thick skin. “What else would I have called you? Spinner? We’ve never used our hero names outside of work.”
He drew his head back as a scowl etched across his face.
Maybe he was like Shigaraki, and he created a new name for himself. Like Touya, too, now that you thought about it.
“Let’s not get too heated,” Atsuhiro spoke up with his hands raised as if to break apart a fight. “The circumstances may be out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t mean we should be jumping down each other’s throats.”
“You don’t even look the same,” Spinner added, ignoring Atsuhiro’s attempt at abating the growing conflict. “There’s no way you could pass as a teenager.”
“Okay, well, that’s just rude,” you bit back after taking a solid blow to your self-esteem.
“Can we go back for a second?”
You and Spinner both looked over to Shigaraki, mildly surprised after he seemed to have taken a backseat in this reunion of sorts. He pushed off the door frame where you entered the room and stalked towards you.
“To the part about using hero names,” he continued, stopping just a few feet away. “See, what you explained to me earlier gave me the impression that you felt the heroes’ actions were akin to a villain’s. What you’re implying now sounds a lot more like—”
“We’re heroes,” you cut in. The fire that had ignited inside you—the hope that everything wasn’t as warped as you initially perceived—was dwindling. “You’re all supposed to be heroes.”
Your eyes became softer, not out of sadness but of exhaustion. You were tired of all the mental hoops you were throwing yourself through trying to piece this new reality together. You certainly didn’t have the energy to force these people to believe in you.
Your spirit was crawling in on itself, and you wanted so badly to turn your back on everything that distressed you. It wouldn’t be impossible to walk away from your current engagement, but you’d still be forced to come to terms with the rest of this messed up society. You were surrounded by stressors with no place to hide.
“What on Earth would make you think that?” Shigaraki glowered at you.
“You mean, like, heroes to each other?” Toga chipped. She wrapped her body around you, resting her chin on your shoulder. “’Cause you’re totally my hero! You saved Jin and me from those nasty gangsters!”
“The Hassaikai?” you asked. You were pretty sure that’s what she was referring to. You remembered when the three of you had to face Mimic and the pillars he tried to crush you with. They would have killed both Jin and Toga had you not frozen them in time. “That did happen.”
“Of course it did. That’s the whole reason we thought you died!” Jin said as he threw his arms out for emphasis.
You shook your head. “No. I would have died if you two hadn’t saved me.”
“Ah, yes, just as I remember! That’s not how it went.” Jin waved his arms in denial. “We tried, but you were too far away.”
“I was far, yeah, but you guys were able to get me out of the way in time,” you corrected, “I was hospitalized because of the injuries, but I didn’t die.”
Jin didn’t respond. His hands fell to his sides and his shoulders dropped. You could feel Toga’s embrace tense before she slipped away from you. You glanced back at her, but her eyes were covered by her bangs.
“Look, I’m not the same person you know,” you sighed and walked back a few steps so you could face everyone, “But I remember dealing with Overhaul and his people. It was years ago, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same as what you’re talking about. I was in a coma for weeks following that fight, so it only makes sense that I—she would be in a hospital somewhere…”
Your voice fizzled away as you reflected on what Spinner had said earlier. They never lost your body. You weren’t considered missing to them. If they really did burry you, then there would be no doubt about your condition.
And if they hadn’t found your body, they wouldn’t be so quick to claim you were dead. Granted, you were assuming they had similar mindsets to the people you remembered them to be.
“I can’t be dead, that doesn’t make sense,” you murmured, shaking your head and backing away further.
You had thought that everyone’s roles within society were the only things different about this new timeline. Magne died here around the same time she did when you had lived through it. From what you read, the ambush on the Shie Hassaikai was conducted almost exactly the same as you remembered. Everything else was the same. Everyone was alive at the time they should be, but you were the outlier.
What happened differently here that resulted in your death rather than measly mutilation?
“The fact you’re standing here is what's really perplexing,” Shigaraki remarked, looking you up and down before his eyes settled on yours.
“I think…I’m pretty sure I was teleported,” you said with a new firmness in your voice. Subconsciously, you were pretty sure you had come to that conclusion a while ago. However, the lack of evidence that Dai Uchuu could teleport people and things across timelines made you hesitant to fully accept it.
You expected him to write off your theory as nonsense, possibly even laugh at your outlandish proposal. But Shigaraki’s gaze on you didn’t waver, didn’t so much as flinch. In fact, it seemed as though he could see right “By a quirk?” he asked. His arms unfolded, and he raised a hand to his neck, the tips of his fingers grazing along the scarred skin.
You nodded. “I had a run in with a villain whose quirk allows him to teleport objects. We never considered it could be anything more than that, but, before that point, everything was still normal.”
“Quirks have become more complex with each generation,” he remarked, looking off to the side. “It’s unlikely for such an overpowered one like that to exist, but it’s not impossible.”
He looked back at you with eyes that were no longer harsh. Your chest became light as all the stress that had accumulated over the past day withered away. You needed to sit, but before you could even consider finding somewhere to relax, there was a tug on your arm.
Toga was staring at you with wide eyes and a grin that felt all too familiar. “So, like, does that mean you’re from the future or something?”
Your eyebrows scrunched, and a corner of your lips tugged upwards. Of course that would be what caught her attention.
“I guess so. I’ve probably gone back almost three years,” you hummed.
“Ooh! Ooh! What happens between now and then?” she beamed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “Do we win?”
Your stomach churned.
The question itself was simple and could easily be answered by a civilian or governmental figure. You defeated the villains and locked them away. Society was safe for the time being, and everyone could go on with their lives as usual.
Obviously, there were some exceptions.
“If she is from the future, telling you what happens could mess everything up,” Spinner pointed out, putting a hand on his hip. “In every movie and game where they deal with time travel, they always talk about the consequences of changing the past.”
“I’m just asking what happens. I never said I’d change anything,” Toga retorted before blowing a raspberry in his direction. “Besides, if we’re heroes where she’s from, I think things are already messed up.”
The two began to bicker over the topic. Eventually, Atsuhiro joined in, bringing up the issue of paradoxes, which favored Spinner’s side of the argument. Jin seemed to do his best to follow along, taking on a supporting role for everyone involved in the conversation.
Touya had kept silent for almost the entirety of your little reunion, but you glanced over in time to see him kick off the wall he had been leaning against. He walked towards you with a lopsided grin.
“You’ve grown up nicely,” he ribbed.
Your upper lip curled at his implication. “I’m not sure I can say the same for you.”
He cackled. “What, do I start going grey?”
“I’d be a little more concerned with skincare if I were you,” you snipped, crossing your arms and turning your torso away from him.
Shigaraki was mostly keeping to himself on the sidelines. He looked like he was listening in on the argument between Toga and Spinner, but his eyes squinted after your retort, giving away his mild amusement. Touya followed your gaze and scoffed.
“You say that as if I’m the only one with skin issues,” he said with a raised voice, still facing Shigaraki.
At that, Shigaraki’s eyes shot over to Touya and narrowed.
“Do you have a preference for what I call you?” you inquired with a raised brow. You were heckled by two people about names at this point, so you might as well make it customary to check before offending anyone else.
“Dabi,” he stated in a flat tone. His teasing demeanor dropped completely. “If you call me anything else, you’ll be joining the fucked up skin club.”
Your lips pursed. “Noted.”
“What’s your plan until you go back to wherever you came from?” he asked, crossing his arms and turning away to face the intensifying commotion the others were causing.
That was something you still needed to work out. You couldn’t stay here forever, nor did you want to. Seeing friends of old was wonderful and all, but you still had a life you needed to get back to. You had a job to do and bills to pay. You weren’t sure if time was actively passing back home, but you didn’t want to take any chances.
Finding Dai Uchuu shouldn’t be too difficult with the right amount of research and public records. It would be tedious work, but you didn’t have many other options. Roaming city streets with your fingers crossed that you’d run into him would be like finding a needle in a haystack. He could have even fled to another country for all you knew.
“I stayed at a hotel last night. I’ll probably keep the room until I find the guy that sent me here. I was out to buy clothes and toiletries before—”
“You’re staying with us,” Shigaraki stated, walking up to the two of you.
Dabi cackled. “You’re really not wasting any time now that she’s your age.”
Shigaraki stood taller and raised his chin before turning to face you, opting to cut his comrade out of the conversation. “You said it yourself. We don’t actually know you, and it would be stupid to let you go off on your own. You’re a hero, which means you put the public’s best interest before all else.”
“I’m not so sure the public’s interest aligns with me here. Still, I understand where you’re coming from,” you conceded.
“Dabi, tell the others we’re done. You, come,” he demanded. He didn’t wait for a response and walked out of the room.
You found yourself, once again, trailing behind him. He led you back through the corridor and down a staircase to the basement level of the sketchy old building. You looked around at the various pipes that protruded through the cracked concrete walls. Some of them dripped, creating murky puddles that you had to dodge or hop over.
You got a bad feeling you were going to end up in a cell of sorts.
He did say he didn’t want you wandering freely…
The two of you stopped in front of a rotting wooden door that likely led to a closet or electrical room. However, he opened it to reveal a much larger space that appeared finished with painted drywall and linoleum flooring. There were no pipes to be seen aside from beneath a faucet that helped make up a kitchenette.
The room was clearly lived in from the wrappers, takeout containers, and stray articles of clothing that littered the ground around a beaten-up pair of old sofas. The cabinet door beneath the sink was missing, and some of the others looked as though one good tug could take them off their hinges. The countertops were also overdue for a good wipe down.
“Have you all been living here?” you asked, doing your best to hide your displeasure.
The closest you’d gotten to living with roommates was when UA forced all its students into dorms. Even then, you were all expected to clean up after yourselves and upkeep the place.
It at least looked like everyone got their own rooms judging by the hallway that branched off of the common area. You didn’t count, but there seemed to be enough doors for everybody. A few of them were open, allowing you to see a bedroom that was fairly put together. Right next to it was a room that looked as though a bomb went off inside.
“You’ll share a room with one of us until you figure out how to fix your whole…situation.” Shigaraki went over to one of the couches to pull a balled-up blanket from between the cushions and threw at you without warning. You only partially caught it, most ended up draped over your head.
After a moment of befuddlement, you slipped the blanket off to see him standing in front of you. Your heart pounded as you watched his eyes roam over your face before looking down at your chest. You could feel an embarrassed blush begin to bubble in your cheeks.
He reached forward and pulled at the shoulder of your shirt. “I still don’t get why you’d wear something like this.”
You scoffed, swatting his hand away. “I thought we already went over this. My options were limited.”
“And that was really the best thing you could find?” he rolled his eyes.
“You know I was actively trying to buy something else to wear instead when you jumped me,” you quipped, crossing your arms.
“Toga has too many clothes. Go put something of hers on,” he demanded before turning away from you to plop himself on one of the couches. The creaking of the wood and springs under his weight made you cringe. It was only a matter of time before that old thing gave out.
“Or I can go back to my hotel to get my stuff, and I can buy a thing or two while I’m out,” you bargained as you paced over to him and leaned against the arm of the sofa.
“I told you, you’re not leaving.”
“Just go with me if you’re really that concerned,” you proposed, tilting your head with and equally crooked grin. “You owe me a shopping trip.”
Shigaraki had been trying to appear busy by fiddling with a TV remote, but his eyes flew back to you. He just stared until you raised your eyebrows expectantly. His attention went back to the remote. “We can figure something out later.”
