Chapter Text
Midoriya is currently paralyzed. Not by fear, or anxiety, or a stray thought. No Midoriya was paralyzed by a quirk, wielded by a classmate before they stabbed him and left him to die. Midoriya is having some trouble processing that as a whole. Considering he can’t move, see, or call out for help, he figures he has all the time in the world to try to wrap his brain around those facts. Well, he at least has however much time it takes for him to bleed out on the cold linoleum floor by himself. He tries to go over it once more, slowly, as though if he carefully places each piece he will be able to better understand the finished image before it falls apart.
He hadn’t been able to find his latest notebook anywhere. That in itself was odd because he was so sure he had it with him. He was usually so careful with those notebooks. He had re-written all of them in code after Aizawa-Sensei had picked one off Midoriya’s desk once thinking he was passing notes. The teacher’s face quickly blanched upon reading one before he looked back to Midoriya with an appraising eye. “See me after class, problem child,” the older man grumbled. The other students of 1-A started to shout and hoot out ‘ooh’s, ' and ‘you’re in trouble’s.’ Midoriya had been certain they were correct. A U.A. teacher had finally noticed his weird habit and was going to scold him or kick him out for being creepy. He could already feel the anxiety clawing its way up his throat.
Before he could spiral further, the exhausted teacher shot the rest of the class a quirk-enhanced glare, silencing them. He then looked back to Midoriya, noting his increased nervousness. “You aren’t in trouble,” he stated bluntly, and without further preamble, he set the book back on Midoriya’s desk and walked away to resume their lesson. Despite the teacher’s assurances and Midoriya’s rare trust in the man, the boy still couldn’t fully erase the lingering anxiety that loitered in the back of his head. When the signal for class to let out had finally sounded, Aizawa sensei walked over to Bakugo’s desk and sat across from Midoriya, regarding him silently for a moment. Midoriya really wished he wouldn’t. As if reading his mind, or deciding he had inflicted the correct amount of psychosomatic torture, the teacher finally spoke up. “Midoriya, how many of those do you have?” Midoriya gulped before pulling out the notebook his sensei had picked up earlier in class. “I’m c-currently on volume fifteen, s-sensei. I can burn them all if needed, or stop! I k-know people think they are creepy!” Midoriya rushed out before his teacher had a chance to reply.
Aizawa’s eyes widened for a moment before he cut in. “Midoriya, it’s fine. The reason I wanted to talk to you was because the analysis I saw was very good, but that also makes it dangerous.”
Midoriya hadn’t known what to process first, the fact that someone was complimenting his analysis, and it was Aizawa of all people, or that it was dangerous. He made the smart decision and just gaped at his teacher like a fish. Aizawa just stared back at him patiently, one eyebrow raised.
Midoriya flushed a no doubt impressive shade of pink before he finally stuttered out a “D-dangerous, sensei”?
Aizawa dipped his head to him once, confirming. “Have you ever thought about using a code? If someone else reads them, it could put multiple heroes at a disadvantage.”
Midoriya just blinked at him. “B-but it’s just a silly h-hobby.” He sputtered back.
Aizawa regarded him for a moment, his eyes flickering back and forth between Midoriya’s green ones. Midoriya had felt so very seen, it was gratifying and terrifying all at once. Some type of understanding flashed through the man’s dark eyes before he came forward and crouched in front of Midoriyas’s chair. “Kiddo, that’s a talent. Not everyone sees the things you pick up on easily. It can be a great advantage to you in the field if you continue to hone it, however, you should also learn to take the proper precaution so that only you can take advantage of them.”
His teacher had said it so matter-of-factly. Midoriya didn’t remember the details of the rest of that conversation, only that Aizawa-sensei had helped him develop a code that just he and Midoriya knew the cipher for. He arranged for several weeks of after-class time where he helped Midoriya rewrite every single one of the books, even the one from when he was five and had written them in Crayola, which had been mortifying. He had also gone as far as answering some of Midoriya’s questions about his own quirk. Confirmed certain theories and denied others. It had made Midoriya’s trust in his teacher grow even more. Ever since then, however, Midoriya had been even more meticulous with his notebooks. While all the books were now written in code with the originals burned, Midoriya kept all the books except the current one he was working on under lock and key. He kept that one with him at all times, so for him to not know where the book was, had been beyond odd.
Midoriya remembered how Aizawa had stressed that the books in the wrong hands could get a hero killed. His anxiety bubbled up, hiding just below his skin. He was so sure he had placed the book in his bag; vividly remembers doing so. However, when he had returned early from lunch as he often does and gone to take the book out, it had been missing. He rushed back to check the lunchroom but no sign of it there. This wasn’t altogether surprising as he never takes it with him to lunch, too scared it would be dirtied somehow. Before he had a chance to look anywhere else the warning bell was ringing. He got back to class just barely in time and took his seat. He could feel the anxiety mounting under his flesh, crawling up and down his arms as he thought about all the things that could go wrong if someone else had it. How disappointed Aizawa-sensei would be in him. The dread had been a led ball in his gut, one that shifted uncomfortably. He looked up from his desk to the man in question and was surprised to see dark eyes already watching him. Midoriya squirmed nervously and Aizawa-sensei sent him a raised eyebrow. Deciding that in this case, the truth would be safer, Midoriya raised his hand.
“Yes, problem child?” The dark-haired man asked.
“I-I think I left my notebook in another room,” Midoriya had stuttered nervously, hoping the teacher would understand which one he meant.
An eyebrow just barely twitched as the older man pieced together what Midoriya said with the nervous behavior he was exhibiting.
“Do you know where you left it?” The man asked calmly. It was concerning, but they had coded the notebooks for a reason.
Midoriya thought about it for a moment. The only other place he had the book was during the break when he had visited Present Mic and they had talked in English about the blonde’s quirk. Present Mic was quickly becoming the second addition to the very short list of teachers Midoriya trusted (All Might not included since he was his mentor). He was certain he had used the notebook after that during ectoplasms class, but that had been taught in this room. Present Mic’s classroom was the only one he hadn’t checked so it was worth a shot.
“M-Maybe Present Mic’s classroom?” The boy hedged.
Aizawa gave a small sigh, but he didn’t sound all that mad which relieved Midoriya’s nerves greatly.
“Alright, go grab it real fast,” Aizawa said nonchalantly as he nodded his head towards the door, giving the boy permission.
Midoriya all but tripped over his own feet as he bowed to his teacher before practically running out of the classroom and over to the room just one hallway over.
He came upon the classroom where the general class students usually resided. The lights were out and the sliding doors were closed snuggly. More than likely they were in Gym or maybe even quirk history with one of the other teachers. Midoriya almost worried he wouldn’t even be able to check, but when he reached for the door it slid open easily with a small sssssssshhhhhhk. As light from the hall filtered into the empty dark room, Midoriya could see that all the desks were pushed up the back of the classroom. It was a little odd, but Present Mic was always moving desks around to suit whatever plan he had for the day. He said rows were boring and didn’t foster the same connection between students that eye contact would. They were regularly rearranging desks into circles or trapezoids or any other odd number of shapes and configurations in their own class when Mic-sensei taught. He would be more surprised if the blonde didn’t do the same for his own homeroom.
Midoriya’s shoes tapped softly against the ground as he made his way into the classroom. He glanced over Present Mic’s desk which is where he had been talking with the teacher during the break, but there was no sign of the book at all. He could feel the panic beginning to flood back in when out of the corner of his eye he noticed the blue book sitting on one of the front desks that had been pushed to the back of the classroom. His eyes widened in surprise as he hurried over to it, wondering how it had even gotten over there.
That was one of his many mistakes, but lowering his situational awareness and thinking he was safe in school was the one that really did him in.
As he looked over the book wondering if maybe Mic-Sensei had moved it to give back to him later, he failed to hear the soft sssssssshhhhhhk of the classroom's sliding door being closed behind him.
That doesn’t make sense, Mic-Sensei knows how important these are, he surely would have taken it with him if he noticed me leaving it behind.
Midoriya once again thought of how he was so sure he had it with him in Ectoplasm’s class as he flipped through it looking for any signs someone had tampered with it.
Something isn’t right!
The hair on Midoriya’s neck stood up as he suddenly realized how much darker it was in the room, the only light muted and seeping through the opaque curtains covering the large windows. He went to flip around, becoming all too suddenly aware that he was not alone. He does so just in time to catch blue eyes flashing in the dark. The stranger reached out and tapped the boy's face. Instantly, his body locked up, red hot fire shooting down his spine. His limbs seized with the feeling and stopped listening to him.
All the boy could do was stand there in muted shock as Monoma walked out of the shadows and into a beam of light, his hand still touching Midoriya’s face.
“Hello Midoriya,” the blonde practically purred. The sound was grating and off-putting. It sent shivers up Midoriya’s spine. The 1-B student sounded calm and collected, quiet, soft, far too calculating.
He must’ve seen Midoriya’s shock, his lips quirking up into a smirk, one far more sinister than anything Midoriya had seen him sport before.
“Ah, yes…….. no rants about 1A for now. That gimmick was getting old and boring. I was practically annoying myself.” The blonde moved his hand down, gripping Midoriya’s jaw with harsh unyielding fingers tilting his face side to side with each couple of words. “Plus, 1A’s wittle golden child didn’t even notice he was walking into a trap!” he sing-songed with a pout as if speaking to a younger child. Still, Midoriya can’t move. His mind whirs as it tries to get the gears to catch, trying to piece together what was happening. Was this a prank? Another vendetta against 1A?
“That should paralyze you for about 15-30 minutes. That should give us enough time. I chose today’s quirks very, very carefully” The blonde continued as he set his timer on one of his watches before picking up the second one.
“It was pretty difficult getting them all in time, making sure they all would last long enough once in effect. I was supposed to stay as U.A’s little mole problem a little longer-”
Midoriya’s eyes widened. The only part of him he had any control over.
He can’t possibly mean-
Where once Midoriya held fear of embarrassment or a practical joke was clearly turning to ice-cold dread.
“But alas, none of the rest of the league seems to be able to kill you, so Shigaraki decided to make me a playable character,” the blonde continued, confirming where Midoriya's train of thought had been heading.
Monoma is the U.A Traitor.
And he is going to kill Midoriya
Midoriya desperately started thinking up a way out of the situation, his mind racing with possibilities.
“Ah ah ah!” Monoma chided as he leaned forward. “This one lasts 3 days.” he said with cruel amusement as he leaned forward and blew into Midoriya’s face.
Immediately Midoriya's vision got blurrier and blurrier until his vision disappeared altogether.
He thinks that if he had control of moving his own vocal cords, he would be whimpering as fear overtook him.
“You may think this one is overkill,” he heard Monoma’s voice in front of him, “but you have a track record for being quite the slippery one. I refuse to take any chances like the other idiots in the league.” Monomas' voice got closer and closer until the blonde was practically whispering the last bit in Midoriya’s ear.
Midoriya didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, couldn’t see. All he could do was stand there and wait, hoping someone would find him.
Suddenly there was some shuffling. Midoriya thought he heard Monoma moving around his watches before cool metal was pressed to his cheekbone.
“Now this one, this one is just a knife” Monoma whispered, venom and intimidation lacing his tone as he dragged the flat side down Midoriya's cheek. “Rest in peace Midoriya,” Monoma’s voice rang out with clear disdain before red hot pain sliced through Midoriya's chest. It paused a moment before Monoma twisted the blade as he pulled it out with a wet sound before slamming it into Midoriya twice more.
On the last strike, he dragged the knife down and left it in its fleshy grave. All Midoriya could do was exhale, he could feel tears running down his face but he couldn’t even cry out in pain.
“Consider that a parting gift.” Monoma said as he flicked the hilt of the knife, sending vibrations down the metal. The pain was unimaginable, and Midoriya felt like if he could see, his vision would be blacking out around the edges. All he could feel was pain and dizziness.
Monoma gripped the collar of Midoriya’s shirt before throwing him across the classroom to the ground. What was left of his stomach flipped at the vertigo. He slid across the floor the tips of his fingers brushed across the sliding door. It let him know he had landed just inches away from the exit. Maybe He could’ve stuck his arm out the door from where lay, but he was still completely paralyzed, the door still firmly closed. He could feel blood already pooling out around him, hot and wet. The air filled with the scent of iron.
He still had his notebook clenched in his right hand, unable to release it. He could feel the blood spreading out and no doubt soaking the book. He felt remorse for the book being damaged after Aizawa-Sensei had taken so much time to help him rewrite it. What a silly thought to have as he bleeds out.
He heard a small satisfied chuckle as Monoma stepped around him and exited the classroom without another word.. Another Sssssshhhhkkk sound letting him know he used the door farthest from him. He could hear the lock turn followed by the echoing clicks of the boy’s dress shoes as he pads down the empty hall, no doubt leaving U.A before Midoriya's body could be discovered.
-----
Midoriya is paralyzed, blind, and bleeding out on cold linoleum floors in an empty classroom, and no one will even know about it till they find his body. He wants to cry out and simply can’t. He can only feel his stuttering, panicked breaths as they tear from his lungs and the silent hot tears that slide down his face.
Midoriya had always thought he would be okay with dying, especially if it meant saving someone. In this case, however, he had saved no one. He had trusted the wrong people. He had gotten too comfortable. And now he would pay for it by dying alone.
His impending death terrifies him more than he ever thought it would.
The darkness is suffocating. He tries vainly to keep his breathing calm,
But he is scared, so scared. He doesn’t think he has ever felt such fear before. So vulnerable. It clouds over his mind and turns everything into white static. He had taken seeing the threat for granted, and now inky blackness and the sound of his own labored breathing will be the last things he experiences.
He thinks about how the others will react when they find him. It had taken time, but he understands he is cared about, understands they will be sad when they find his body. He wonders who will find him. He hopes it isn’t Mic-Sensei and his students. He doesn't want to traumatize them.
He wonders how Bakugo will feel. He wonders if Aizawa will blame himself like he did at the USJ. He hopes not. He hopes the teacher knows that this is Midoriya’s own fault.
He wonders how All Might will react when he returns. If he will mourn Midoriya. He thinks about how he is taking One for All from the world and can only be glad that All For One is in prison. He thinks about his mom, how she cries enough to fill a room but that he knows when she is truly sad, she cries silently just as he does. That the tears will slowly slide down her face. He hopes she can be happy. That she won’t regret fueling his dream to be a hero. He wishes that people would be able to tell her that Midoriya had died for something. He wants his mom, wants to see her so badly. Wants to call out for her. Instead, Midoriya is dying for nothing. He annoyed the wrong chess player and now he was a pawn being taken off the board.
He wonders how Present Mic will feel when he teaches in this room. He hopes they are able to clean his blood out of the grout, that the teachers and students in this room won’t be haunted by his memory.
It occurs to Midoriya suddenly that he has accepted his own impending death and he mentally grits his teeth. At the very least, if he is to die he will not go so compliantly.
He tries once more to think of anything. During this time of day, few walk down this hall and that is true even now as he hears only silence on the other side of the door.
He tries to activate one for all. It takes a moment but he can feel green-lighting arcs across his body. As it does it eats up energy. He doesn’t know why he even activated it. If he can’t move, then he can’t do anything but hold one for all and all it will do is kill him faster. He twitches his toes in agitation.
Wait! Did his toes really just move?
The green-haired boy wiggles them once more. The movement is feeble, small, and delayed, but it’s something. In some way whatever is causing his paralysis, One for All seems to eats away at it. It’s not fast enough, however. He doesn’t have a lot of time. He moves all his power to one limb hoping it will speed up the process. He feels the familiar rush of raw power move to his left arm. It’s something he hasn’t done in a while and he can almost feel his bones creak in protest. He is only able to hold it for just a few moments before it stutters and dies out. He tries to activate it again but he is too weak to hold it anymore. He can feel his fingers twitch, he tries t move the whole arm. It isn’t much but mayb-
He lifts his left arm but it’s like he is lifting a 10-ton weight. It takes more effort than ever before, just to move his hand towards where he thinks is the sliding door, but as he gets it there his hand falls back to the ground. The motion just barely pushes the door outwards and off its sliding track if the slight thumping rattle is anything to go off. He can’t get the momentum to open the door, however, and even if he did it’s not like he could leave. Still, he refuses to give in till the very end.
Midoriya’s arm shakes with the effort as he raises his hand once more, before letting gravity pull it back down and across the door. The door continues to make soft barely-there thumping sounds as it is pushed off its track and then falls back into place. From the outside who would even notice? Midoriya can feel frustrated tears leak out of his eyes. He can just barely feel the pain from his wounds and he knows it isn’t a good sign.
He is the ninth holder of One for All, the successor of All Might,
And he will die all alone,
in a classroom,
A hallway away from his teacher and friends.
Blind and unable to even ask for help.
For all the times Aizawa had scolded him for not asking for help when needed, for going into things recklessly, now when he is finally able to do so he is unable.
Instead of a reckless battle, he will die in an empty classroom on campus.
It’s almost ironic. He wants to laugh and can’t even do that.
His arm is getting heavier and heavier, harder to move with every passing moment. He doesn’t think it’s the paralysis that’s the problem anymore. All he can smell is iron as he cries, small whimpers make their way past his throat. It seems like maybe the quirk is starting to wear off, but for every movement he gains, the blood loss takes it away. He is so... so tired.
What if…. He just took….. A small…..nap?