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damaless · 5 years ago

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Instead Of Getting Hit, Don't

Chapter Six: A Good Night's Rest

Being killed by his father never gets easier. He comes back shaken to the core every time. The only bright side is that he inevitably arrives back at the House before his father, so he can openly accept comfort from Izuku.

Once, victory had seemed to be within his grasp. He'd fought with everything— everything he had; he'd been blessed with the power of All Might, Selkie, and Recovery Girl, and he had managed to drive his father to his knees. It had seemed like— he had seemed to be on the brink of death.

But then his father had stood back up. More powerful than ever. Attacked Shouto with renewed vigor. Until Shouto had nothing left.

He’d floated there in the pool, tears streaming down the sides of his face and mingling with the blood, until Izuku had waded in and pulled him out.

“Maybe he can’t be beaten,” he’d whispered into Izuku’s shoulder.

Since then, demoralizing thoughts have swirled in his mind incessantly. Relentlessly.

Maybe his goal is simply impossible. But his mother had escaped, somehow — maybe his father hadn’t been able to bring himself to kill her.

Maybe he had… loved her.

But she’d still left. Left Shouto, too, before he had even been old enough to remember her. Maybe Momo had it right — maybe his mother hadn’t… wouldn’t love him, even if he did manage to find her.

Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.

And when the Olympians find out that his reason for escaping isn’t really just to join their ranks, maybe they won't want him, either.

“You know, I have a lot of experience talking to people who have just died,” Izuku says, carefully, after Shouto’s most recent resurrection.

“Uh-huh,” Shouto says, raising an eyebrow.

“And I can't imagine it's good for someone to die over and over again like you've been doing.” Izuku twists his mouth, brows drawn together in sympathy.

Shouto sighs. “Are you telling me to give up?”

Izuku shrugs. “I know better than to try that. But you could take a break, at least? Get yourself, I don't know, more centered, or something.” He puts a tentative hand on Shouto’s knee. “Seems like your nerves have been little bit frayed, lately.”

Shouto rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, know any good spots to relax around here? Maybe a spa?”

Izuku sighs. “You could try sleeping, for once. How long has it been?”

Of course Izuku would suggest sleeping.

Shouto busies himself picking at the skin around his fingernails. “I'm not sure. I don't remember. It's not like I need to, anyway.”

Izuku nudges him under the chin, capturing his gaze. “Have you slept at all since you learned of your mother's existence?”

“Does losing consciousness due to death count?” Shouto blinks slowly. His eyelids are just so heavy. Everything seems so distant, suddenly. He yawns. Izuku’s eyes are so green.

“No,” Izuku murmurs, at the edge of Shouto’s awareness. “That doesn't count.”

***

Shouto inhales sharply, opening his eyes to darkness. He's tangled up in something. Had he died again? No — he's not immersed in blood. He's… comfortable? He's in his bed. He's tangled in his blankets.

“Please don't kill me, Shouto,” Izuku says, in the darkness. “I mean, I know I would just come back, but still, I'd rather not go through all that.”

Shouto sits up and squints, pushing his blankets down to his waist and willing his eyes to adjust. “Izuku?” Sleep has made his voice raspy. “Why would I want to kill you?”

“You were just so tired. You really needed to sleep.” Izuku takes on a vague shape in the dark room, and Shouto reaches out in his direction.

“You used your powers on me?” Shouto makes contact, and Izuku grasps his hand gently, squeezing a confirmation.

Something about having Izuku here with him in the dark is making his heart race. He tamps down the impulse to tug on Izuku’s hand, pull him closer, lie back down with him. He shakes his head to clear the fog — he must still be disoriented from sleep.

“Shouto…” Izuku starts, after a few moments. “If— if you decided to stay, maybe…” He trails off, falling silent again.

Maybe what? Shouto blinks. Izuku sighs heavily.

“I'll bet you can beat him now, after a good night’s rest,” Izuku says, too cheerily, and apparently abandoning his previous thought. Something's off.

“Good night's rest… It's always night, here. How long was I out, really?” Shouto frowns. “Is Endeavor back? What if he finds out you're in my room? It's not safe for you here, Izuku.”

“I have a— a good feeling about the next time you try,” Izuku says, voice wavering. He— sniffles? “Remember: instead of getting hit, don't.”

He releases Shouto’s hand. “Goodbye, Shouto.”

“Wait, Izuku—” Shouto stops. The room is empty, now. The vague shape of Izuku is gone. His sudden absence is painful, hollow.

He's nowhere to be found in the House, either.

***

Instead of getting hit, don't.

He makes it all the way to his father again. He borrows the powers of the gods. He brings him to his knees, again.

His father stands up. Shouto could scream in frustration. Instead, he doesn't. He takes a breath, refocuses.

And then next time he brings him down, he doesn't get back up.

“If you… leave,” his father wheezes, “you can… never… return.” Coughing wracks his father's hulking body, wet with the blood in his lungs.

Shouto strikes the final blow with all the fury of a thousand deaths.

He won. He won! He actually did it; took down the Lord of the Underworld!

All it had taken was a little bit of sleep. He can't wait to tell Izuku that he'd… been… right.

Oh. Right.

His chest hurts.

His mother. He'll find his mother. He has to. That's why he did all this in the first place.

***

The living world is so big. The land sprawls out — rivers, plains, mountains, ocean — with no end in sight. And it's so bright — it's hard to keep his eyes open against the relentless assault of the sun. How can the Olympians stand it? How can the mortals stand it?

He doesn't… he doesn't have any idea where to start searching for his mother.

A mountain, looming huge even in the distance, catches his eye — Olympus. It must be. All Might and all the other gods had said he would be welcome there, but if he tells them his true purpose, will they be willing to help? Would it turn them against him entirely? They are already inherently suspicious of the ‘denizens’ of the Underworld; they may not take it well if they interpret his lie by omission to be equivalent to active deception.

But with no clear goal in mind, wandering the land is unlikely to be fruitful. The mountain, with its overwhelming domination of his field of view, makes an appealing target. He'll have to take his chances with the Olympians.

He just needs to wait until he's healed enough to make the journey — he hadn't made it out of the fight with his father unscathed. Far from it.

In the meantime, he finds a suitable little cave — dark enough to feel like home, and lights a fire. His flames aren't as powerful as his father's, but they'll do for something as simple as this. The flickering of the firelight against the walls is much more comfortable on the eyes than the flaming monstrosity in the sky.

He leans his sword against the wall of the cave and huddles close to the fire, shivering. He hadn't exactly been able to bring along an abundance of supplies. There's weather on the surface, and it's cold. Really, really cold. He's lost a lot of blood.

Can he die of starvation? Hypothermia? Infection? What would happen if he did?

His father had said he could never return — had he meant that literally, as in his dying will no longer result in returning to the House? Or is he just no longer welcome there? Would he end up in Erebus, awaiting judgement like a mortal soul?

Is he mortal now? No — his father couldn't change the fundamental nature of his being, no matter how much he might want to… could he?

If he dies… will Tokoyami come for him? Or would he just… cease to exist? He shudders.

He should try to get some sleep. He lays down on the cold, rocky floor of the cave, and closes his eyes, wrapping Inko’s shawl around himself.

The ache in his chest returns. Sleep finds him immediately.

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