#midoriyadiesouchthathurts

[moonflaregal]

Nothing to Say Except “Ouch”

This may contain sensitive material for some. Please read at your own discretion. I would say “enjoy,” but ouch. You’ll see.

“Midoryiya,” Shouto began, the boy’s hero name long forgotten. “Midoriya, I need you to stay with me.”

The pro hero was kneeling, rocks pressing into his shins through the fabric of his hero costume, pricking him and telling him to abandon the companion resting in his lap.

Midoriya’s face was beaten and bruised, cuts running along his nose, down his jaw, and through one of his eyes. He looked as if he had walked under a red-stained waterfall, one eye closed, the other always open to witness the crimes of a humanity he needed to protect. The red curtain meant nothing to Izuku, for if he simply held his hand out from under the crimson water, he could still save.

“Midoriya, please, don’t die,” Shouto scrambled as his hands combed their way through the boy’s hair, shivering each time his fingers ran into a knot. He choked on his own spit as he realized hot smoke was curling into his throat, making it difficult to breathe. As much as it tried, it did not stop him from calling out to the boy in his care.

But, the hero in his hands was tired, and half of his hearing had been obliterated by the last hit, and he wanted to move, yet his body was numb. All he could do was listen to half of the world, and he wondered, in his semi-delirious state, why only the screams were audible. Those, and the soft voice of fear that seemed to be attached to the gentle feeling of his hair being smoothed out over and over and over again.

“Izuku,” Shouto tried, “Izuku, I need you to stay with me. With all of us.”

Izuku waited. He continued to take in fifty percent of the world and wondered if Shouto knew how heavy the pain was, how difficult it was to only have one-half of oneself. Asking a question in his state was impossible, but all he wanted was an answer, so he continued to wait.

It might not have been that he desired to wait. It was more likely that he had no choice, with a torn up voice and a shattered-up-everything on the inside. 

Shouto began to feel numb, began to slip into the white noise, allowing the world to become nothing, quiet, serene. He was in shock.

His best friend was lying in his arms, slipping away from him down the rapids as he remained on a lonely rock. Where was everyone? Probably dead. Probably fighting. Most likely dying.

Beyond the matted hair in Shouto’s eyes, the tangled, white nothingness, the heroes were winning. If he looked up through the screen of hazy air, he could have seen the shadows of heroes rising up to the challenge. He would have noticed the way the sky was desperately close to clearing into blue.

Still, he focused on the boy he needed to hold. 

The boy in question was 29 years of age with his own agency and his own golden reputation. He was a man with trustable friends and caring rivals, one with kindness to spare, as if it were never-ending.

And the boy in question was also just that. A boy. Dying and wheezing, body crumpled and wringing itself dry, hands rotting away as his remaining eyesight clouded over. A strangled whine let itself escape into the heavy atmosphere that pressed him into torn up road.

“Yes? Midoriya? Izuku?” Shouto responded immediately, having barely caught the sound at all.

A scarred hand came up to his cheek and brushed something away, before falling slack again.

The barely living boy then started to rasp. 

“Todoroki-kun...”

“Yes, I’m here. I’m here, Midoriya.”

“I hear... half... of the world.”

Shouto froze, not understanding what was being said to him. Midoriya continued on.

“It... sounds afraid...”

More silence as strength was picked up in broken little pieces and stitched together by sheer will.

“I’m afraid... that I won’t live to save it...”

Shouto let out a sob and clutched Midoriya’s hand. His voice cracked. “You already saved the world. You did it. And you can save as many more worlds as you want. You just need to hold on. Just... hold on.”

Was it his imagination, or did cracked and bloodied lips twitch as if they wanted to quirk up into a reassuring smile?

“I know... you got over it... when we were kids,” the boy gargled, “but... remember that life... is not meant to be... half lived.”

Resting his head against Midoriya’s, his body trembled and fought to tear itself apart. Was he hot? Was he cold? What he still? Was he falling? It was glacial and volcanic, and it hurt.

“Please, Midoriya, you’re my friend. You’re the one who saved me. Breathe. Just breathe. Don’t ever stop. Please. Life may be meant to be lived fully, but it’s okay if you don’t take full breaths. Just please keep breathing. Stay with me. Please, please, please. I can’t lose you. You mean so much to me.”

“Shouto-kun.” 

Shoto’s eyes snapped open wide, vision blurry beyond the tears.

“Shoto-kun, it’s o-”

“No, no, no, no. Don’t tell me it’ll be alright. I need you to breathe. Cry if you have to. Sob, cry, wail, anything. It’ll mean you’re alive. Even if you have to cry, please just keep breathing.” The irony of asking Midoriya to breathe and then cutting him off was lost as Shouto desperately grasped at straws.

“My chest hurts... it all... it’s fine, really...”

The look in Midoriya’s eyes unfocused further. Shouto screamed.

“Why can’t you just cry,” he shouted at his dying friend, “you used to cry all the time. When did you stop? Why won’t you cry? When did it change?”

The body beneath him shakily hoisted itself up and wrapped its arms around the one holding it, the one tethering it to earth, and green lightning danced along the rubble.

Shouto found it harder to speak through the tears. “It- it’s okay. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to cry.” He repeated himself without ceasing as he clung to the world’s greatest hero, unsure of who he was speaking to.

Then, something warm fell onto his neck, sat there, and cooled. His first instinct told him that it was blood, and his intuition was rarely incorrect.

But there, sliding down to his shoulder, proving him wrong, was a cold tear.

Against his neck, hidden by a mass of green curls, a bewildered voice spoke. “It’s... been so long since I did that. It’s... been so long.”

Utter silence.

“M-Midoriya?”

Quiet.

“Midoriya, M-Midoriya, Midoriya, Midoriy-”

Previously the number three hero, now the number two hero, the son of Endeavor erupted in fury.