Chapter Text
Commision/Artwork by wonderdoud
Commission/Artwork by Rycca/Ray
Commission/Artwork by nottspocket
Izuku Midoriya ignores the scratching and growls slipping into his subconscious as he cradles a delicate head into his lap, his hands lightly rubbing soothing circles along the temple above his mother's brow. Her eyes appear watery, and unfocused as blood seeps from the crease between her shoulder and neck. The greenette swallows heavily, a lump lodged into his throat as his eyes train on that very spot.
He doesn't know what to feel as his mother shudders in his arms, one of her smaller hands digging into the fabric of his shirt. Izuku murmurs to Inko Midoriya with a wobbly smile, "We're going... to be okay."
He knows that's a fucking lie.
Because this is his fault, thinking back.
He should be dead by now, or at least succumbing to the mindless and endless urge for human flesh. However, Izuku has to wonder as he touches his forearm's uneven and lacerated skin why he hasn't turned yet.
When Musutafu falls, he's twenty-one, and the world falls to pieces right alongside it. It starts slowly, with only a few cases here and there. It alarms the community to hear of humans suddenly displaying ravenous behavior and seeking out flesh to sink their teeth into. The violence spurred was unlike anything he had ever seen before -- but at least it is from a distance. Society begins to fall like stones into a river — just like the bodies littering the streets and the smell of human decay tainting the air. Plop. Plop. Plop.
At first, Izuku and his mother barricaded their apartment and settled, hoping perhaps this would pass somehow. Realistically, how do you prepare for an apocalypse when it starts? How do you formulate the thoughts necessary to steel yourself as you watch the entire world crumble from beneath your feet? When the numbers begin to steadily decrease and a state of emergency is called, the two of them pack everything they can of value and decide to follow the masses and seek shelter with others.
An even grander mistake.
In a matter of weeks, structures and buildings begin to crumble and sway. Foilage and plant life spread over unnatural places of growth. There are no longer businesses, currency means nothing, and the government is radio silent. News coverage is long gone and their population is dwindling steadily. Power plants lose the ability to run properly. Water is becoming scarce. Resources are depleting amid sheer panic. Quarantine Zones did nothing to stop the infection from spreading, proving nearly useless. Their city has fallen. They find sanctuary at a university that is quickly renovated into an impressive fortress in the middle of the wilderness outside of the city. Izuku finds comfort and relief in knowing perhaps they are safe.
But Fort Killmoor isn't the haven Izuku thought it would be, the image flashing through his mind of the intimating and large steel structure forever embedded into his mind.
He and his mother are assigned their cots, and a chest for storage, and given daily tasks. Inko is assigned to help with the crops and kitchen preparations. Izuku has little to no experience with combat. He has gotten into scuffles as a child here and there — an easy target for bullying — but never has he held a weapon in his hand. His mother protests relentlessly, begging for Izuku to do anything else.
Izuku assures his mother with his usual facade he'll be alright. He has to be. He wanted to give back to protect her.
The very first-time Izuku is face to face with a grotesque and unsteady creature, its jaws snapping in his direction and its eyes piercing through his soul, the greenette stutters to breathe. A sigh sounds at his side as one of his unnamed companions simply takes a gun and at point-blank range, shoots the damned thing right between the eyes. No hesitation. No fear.
After several routine supply runs, Izuku feels he is handling himself well enough. It is difficult to focus when facing death. In the fortress, he heas these undead creatures called by many names — Walkers, Biters, Rotters — too many to fucking keep up with. While he hasn't formed any bonds worth mentioning, most of the teams he goes out with merely keep up the pace and set to the task of completing the job without so much as an uttered word unless it was a warning, he is taught much about the undead walking among them.
Kai Chisaki oversees the operations at Fort Killmoor, and at first, Izuku sees a man with a vision to survive and keep those who entered safe from the undead. He appears to have an order to things and Izuku respects that. After all, he and his mother can survive for months because of his generosity in taking them in — to offer them solace in an unjust world.
They have rationed food and water, crops are abundant, and teams are sent out to hunt and gather medical and food supplies, as well as ammo. There is impressive weaponry and those very devices are provided to those who participate in the search parties and a log is kept for what is taken and placed back. Izuku learns far too quickly how to handle a gun, as well as wield knives. Silent killers, they are. Which is favorable in stealth operations.
He'd come back each time adorned in crusty blood, the smell of death, and dirt smeared and caked into his hair and skin.
But he does it for his mother. He does it because they have hot water to rinse the decay away from their bodies. They have food to fill their stomachs. They have blankets to keep warm during the harshest of outside conditions. He does it to survive.
One night changes everything.
Izuku is patrolling atop the walls surrounding the fortress, aimlessly watching as the undead twist and snap while trying to find their next meal. Do they feel? Do they still have a conscious? Is any activity left in their brain? There isn't enough information to the public on how these savages came to be. At this point, nearly six months later, does it matter? While Izuku is curious by nature, he doesn't try to piece together what's happening anymore.
He simply pushes forward.
As the songs of the crickets rise in the air amidst the growls and groans, Izuku hears something far in the distance that makes his blood run cold.
A scream. A woman's voice.
Izuku holds his heavy gun closer to his form, his eyes searching desperately in the darkness for any signs of actual life. He finds nothing. He seeks out a comrade but finds they're scattered. Matter of fact, Izuku feels he's the only one out here at this post. It's not unusual for him to be alone, but there are rules for keeping together even while on watch.
The screaming becomes more urgent, and desperate.
Izuku doesn't hesitate as he uses the ladder to climb down onto the solid ground and runs hastily toward the sound. Someone is in trouble. Someone is in danger. Why isn't anyone else as alarmed as he is? Heart palpitating in his chest, the young man continues to sprint and realizes the sound is from outside of the walls. Shit. Using his best judgment, the greenette slips through one of the metal panels and shuts it securely behind him.
Rules be damned, someone was going to die if actions aren't taken.
The cries are blood-curdling and chilling and Izuku finds he's losing himself deeper and deeper into the overgrown foliage surrounding him. He runs and runs, and runs until he stops abruptly as another voice reaches his ears. One that is all too familiar to him now.
Kai Chisaki.
Izuku's heavy footsteps became cat-like as he narrowly avoids a walker trying to advance on him. He dodges the clumsy arms reaching out for him easily, not bothering to spare another glance. Why is Kai out here? What the hell is going on? Did he decide to patrol himself? Izuku knows the man never steps foot outside of the walls unless it's dire.
A bright light catches Izuku's gaze and he stills behind a nearby tree. He shrouds himself in the darkness and narrows his eyes to find what appears to be a small pond, illuminated by the full moon above. As the young man observes more closely, his eyes widen.
He can't fucking breathe.
Wooden rods are embedded into the ground surrounding the pond, forming a circle of some sort.
But people are tightly bound to them. Their ages range widely.
It's like something Izukus's seen is a distorted horror movie, one that may have given him nightmares in the past. He clamps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from gasping and being heard. The woman he heard earlier is still screaming and Izuku now sees the reason why.
Being held only by a loose leash is a biter, its eyes wide with recognition and hunger as its jaws open. He leaps toward the woman and she screams again, her face turning to press against the wood near her face, trying to hide herself away. She can't be much older than seventeen or eighteen. It isn't just her, however. The wooden stakes are all occupied and muffled cries and whimpers rise in the air like the smell of rotting flesh.
"Takio," Kai sighs, almost as if he's speaking to a child. "You do know why I've brought you out here, correct?"
The woman, Takio, nods her head swiftly and starts to sputter, "I-it's because I took medicine from the infirmary. But, I promise you, sir, I was only trying to help my little sister—"
"You didn't take, you stole. I don't need to remind you of how that shit doesn't fly with me. There is an order to things here."
"B-but sir, we brought her to the infirmary weeks ago for an infection and we weren't g-given enough antibiotics. S-she was going to die if I hadn't—"
"We ration our medical supplies for a reason. If your sister wasn't responding to the medication, we could have simply found another solution."
"Kai," the woman pleads. "Please. I spoke with you and your officers about this multiple times. For God's sake, she is only eleven years old!"
"Then we made a judgment call, didn't we? Only the strong survive this hell and it seems your sister wasn't in the plans to make the cut."
Takio's mouth falls open just as Izuku's does. Is he hearing this right? He has to be dreaming.
"She's a CHILD! I'm all she has left!" Takio shrieks and it seems to entice the walker even more. It struggles against its bonds and every muffled mouth watches in pure horror as Kai lets the leash go.
Izuku can't fucking breathe he can't fucking breathe he can't fucking breathe—
"Please!" She screams as teeth sink into her cheek, her eyes fluttering from the pain and sending her into shock almost immediately. Her body convulses and blood spills down from the post like rain. Izuku gags and nearly dry heaves, his chest so tight he feels like he's suffocating.
"As for the rest of you who knew of this transgression, you'll be made an example of. This is what happens when you bite the hand that feeds you."
Kai has no remorse in his eyes. No shred of humanity was left in his gaze.
Izuku swiftly turns and runs again as the screams drown out the sound of his footsteps.
Savages, he thinks as he makes a wild dash. Fucking savages.
His furious heart matches the tempo of his boots slamming against the harsh earth, his eyes blind with tears. Oh God, what did he just witness? What kind of sick and demented shit did he just see? He can't erase the screams of agony, the wails for forgiveness.
As his tears obscure his vision, he misses the dark figure in front of him. He knocks into it noisily and falls to the ground with an oomph. As he quickly and furiously wipes his eyes, all he sees is a deformed blur lunge at him. A startled noise escapes Izuku's throat as the rotter's weight presses solidly into his. It's marred hands pin Izuku down and the greenette struggles like mad to overthrow the creature. It's strong, though, and has Izuku in it's sights. Film gray eyes focus on Izuku's face and it snaps its teeth.
"Get... off of me!" Izuku whispers harshly, attempting to reach into his pocket for his knife. He uses his forearm to keep the biter back but it's set on Izuku's unmarked flesh. Izuku's actions become frenzied, and desperate as he watches the walker attempt to sink its teeth into him several times — unrelenting and carnal.
A pain pulses through Izuku's exhausted body and he becomes alarmed. No time to think, only act. He snatches the handle of his blade and quickly brings it up and with a sounding thump, lodges it right into the side of the rotter's skull. He exhales shakily as the creature stops struggling against him and the man uses all of his strength to overthrow him.
Izuku sits up and pats himself down, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He doesn't realize how harshly he's breathing and he sighs, running a bloody hand down his face.
Wait, bloody?
Feeling a jolt shoot up his spine, the greenette pulls back and gazes at his trembling fingers. His knife falls onto a pile of leaves and as his eyes travel down, he finally sees it. The protruding mark was as red as the blood on his weapon, an angry circle embedded deep into his skin. Izuku's entire frame begins to quake as his eyes never waver from his forearm.
"No..." he whispers, shaking his head. "No, no, no—Please, God, no. I... I can't leave her. I can't leave her yet. Not here."
It would be his fucking luck that he was bitten trying to save someone who couldn't possibly have been saved. It would also be his luck at how utterly careless he is to miss the set of golden eyes settling on his shaking form.
Izuku hums a tune from his childhood, his eyes closed as his hands are not stroking his mother's hair. Here they are, in some run-down shack miles and miles away from Fort Killlmoor. It's disgusting and filthy. The floors shine with a film of grime, insects buzzing, and an odor as unpleasant as can be lingering in the air, but it's enough to keep them sheltered from the elements and the undead. The greenette does his best to drown out the sounds of walkers vigorously trying to infiltrate their unsteady home for the night.
"I... used to sing that to you... when you were just a baby," Inko whispers, smiling softly at the memory. "You... were such a colicky baby. Kept me up all day and... night."
Izuku reopens his eyes and his gaze falls onto his mother's face. When he notices a wetness spreading over her cheeks, he feels his orbs struggling to hold back his tears. He gently wipes his mother's tears with the pad of his thumb. He doesn't realize he's quivering, his lips wet and his face disgusting as dirt and tears mix.
"But... you were... always... such a good... boy. A good... man."
"Mom..." he whimpers, smoothing out her hair again. Her face is beginning to take on a grayish hue and her eyes appear to be sunken in. As Izuku soothes her, he can't help but realize just how hot to the touch she is. He bends down and buries his face near the crown of Inko's head. "This is... my fault."
"Hush," she breathes out, her chest rising and falling far too quickly. She struggles to raise her hand and caress the side of Izuku's soiled face. "You... saved us... from those monsters."
"This shouldn't have happened. I... I should be dying with you."
"Sweetheart, no..."
"How am I supposed to live without you? I have... nothing left without you here."
Inko smiles softly and says, "You're going... to... survive."
"Mom—"
"No, listen—" Inko winces and shifts uncomfortably in Izuku's lap and he does what he can to keep her comfortable. He blindly reaches for a water bottle that has about a third of liquid left and brings it to her lips. She shakes her head and nudges the bottle away weakly. "I'm going to die, son. I'm turning... and you... can't stop it."
Izuku sobs openly, no longer hiding behind the facade of a strong son. He cradles his mother close.
"You're going to... make it... for me. You're going to... protect this secret... because this world is... unjust and cruel. I saw... what Kai wanted to do with... you and others will... weaponize you."
Izuku's mouth feels so dry, his fingers are tingling, and his eyes burn.
"But... never forget... there are still kind... people out there. You... have always been... so incredibly perceptive and smart. You... will survive."
"I--I can't—"
"Promise me right now, Izuku."
"Please, Mom—"
"Promise. Me." Her voice is firm, full of resolve.
Her words become more slurred as she speaks and Izuku knows there isn't much time. Delirium is beginning to set in and it isn't hard to miss. He blinks back his anguish and stares up at the dusty ceiling, hoping and praying for a divine miracle to take place and save the only person he has left. How is he supposed to go on alone? What is the point?
Knowing it won't be long now, Izuku finds his resolve and grasps the fragile hand touching his cheek. He kisses Inko's palm and whispers, "I... promise."
Inko's hand drops like a stone from Izuku's and she sighs shakily, her unfocused eyes closing and her lips lifting into a soft smile.
"Thank you... Izuku."
Izuku doesn't know how much time has passed, or how long he sits there in silence. He closes his eyes and basks in the presence of his mother for as long as he can. They don't speak. They don't utter a sound. The moments tick into hours and he can feel when his mother takes her final breath. He also feels when her form shifts against him and a raspy, drawn-out moan reaches his ears.
His eyes cut open and glance down and he can't stop the heartwrenching sob that rises from the confines of his throat.
Inko, or the shell of her, twists in Izuku's arms and tries to reach out to him while her mouth is gaping, jaw unhinging and snapping softly with a click of her teeth. The greenette gazes down at her for a short while, noting how weak she truly is at that moment.
Fully turned, he has to wonder if she still has the memories of the two of them baking miso cookies each weekend, or the visions of her teaching him how to ride a bicycle or watching his very first school play in grade school. He wants to believe she does. He wants to believe the memories of running into her room when he had nightmares and she cradled his small form into her arms would be forever embedded into her memory.
He wants to believe that as he reaches for his knife, crusted with dried blood.
He brings the sharp object close to her skull and spends a final moment gazing at her, trying not to imagine that just hours prior she was looking up lovingly at him.
Now, she's looking up at him with hunger in her eyes.
With a quivering exhale, Izuku quietly slips the knife into the side of her skull, and her body stills completely.
Movements nearly mechanical, Izuku respectively covers his mother's body beneath a worn, tarnished sheet. He doesn't have the strength to admit he needs to move her and find a proper place to bury her. He has no tools. He has no means other than his knife and whatever he managed to salvage from their previous home. He moves about the shack in a hauntingly hollow way and does his best to gather the supplies he and his mother had managed to snatch and stuff into a backpack after escaping Fort Killmoor. A flashlight, some alcohol, and bandages.
As he gazes down at the rations he has, he realizes there isn't much left. Two days, tops. Maybe enough water to sustain him for three.
He tugs at his disgustingly sticky shirt, hating how it feels against his skin. He wishes more than anything that he had something else to wear. He briefly glances down at his stained, navy blue shirt, ripped black jeans, and sooty boots with distaste. All he smells on his clothes is...
The smell of death.
He pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind as he shifts some objects around in the dark, the sun finally setting. He finds a small room for storage on the opposite end of the shack and decides that is where he's going to sleep for the night. He swallows heavily as he peers over his shoulder and at his mother's covered form, sighs shakily, and situates himself into the small corners. He wraps his arms around himself and keeps his knife close to his chest, his heavy eyes downcasting as he attempts to rid himself of the anguish and agony he's feeling.
He takes time to wrap up his arm, taking his mother's words to heart. It's not as if he's expecting to meet anyone alive any time soon, but he's always tried to be cautious even though that has come around and bit him right in the ass in the most painful way. When he finishes his task, he holds up his arm and observes it. It merely looks like a wound, nothing more. He takes a few tentative sips of water, chews a few pieces of dried meat, and can't figure out what to do next.
It's maddening in a sense to feel this alone.
As the sound of soft snarling begins to lull him to sleep, his mind and body utterly spent, he hears something else that causes him to raise his head quickly. He shifts slightly and presses his ear against the flimsy wood separating him from the outside world, the pulse from his heart pounding in his ears. He holds his breath and tries to piece together the noise from the outside and realizes something with unbelievable dread.
Voices.
Which meant...
"People," Izuku whispers in horror, his eyes widening substantially. He quickly pushes himself as far back as he can until his back is pricking with splinters from the wood of the supply closet, dressing in the darkness for cover as the front door is suddenly kicked in with enough force to rattle the entire shack. Izuku holds his knife up to his chest while placing the other hand over his mouth. He's afraid to even breathe at this point.
Has Kai Chisaki found him? If he has, the young man would sooner stab himself than fall back into that man's hellhole again.
"Fuck, this place is a goddamned dump," a voice bites out in disgust. Izuku's brows rise as he realizes... he doesn't recognize this voice. Rough and menacing at the same time. Heavy boots creak against the dirty floor and Izuku can see the figure partially shrouded in the darkness. Flashlight in hand, the enigma ventures further in. The greenette notes he isn't alone, either.
"Can't leave any stone unturned, man. Gotta make sure we scout the entire area. I've heard his men have been spotted around here the last few days." A friendlier voice, less threatening in his opinion.
Izuku's forehead creases and he wonders if the new voice is talking about Kai. That would mean he's been actively searching for Izuku and his mother. Fuck.
"Unless he wants to die, he'd best stay to fuck where he belongs." After several long, agonizing seconds, the rough voice continues, "There ain't shit here. This was a waste of fucking time. And for fucks sake, that smell—"
"Hey, man..." Footsteps echo through the structure. "Look. Damn... it's probably coming from her."
The figure moves swiftly and both of the men are pulling the sheet off of Inko Midoriya's body. Izuku grinds his teeth together, feeling the urge to step out and stop them. He hasn't had a moment to figure out where to bury her yet, dammit. Leave her alone, please!
"Shit," the rough voice admonishes. "She's fresh. A couple of hours, tops. But she's already..." The voice trails off, and Izuku is suddenly feeling alarm course through him. The two men probably realize that there is a clean, clear knife wound on the side of her head. "Someone stopped her from turning. Or mercy killed her."
"But... no one is here."
The rougher voice grunts, standing fluidly and taking a look around. Izuku doesn't know what they're searching for. Izuku has his supplies next to him and he doesn't believe he's left any other indication of his presence. Still, he keeps his hand tight against his lips.
"Yeah... you're right. Let's get the fuck outta here. There ain't shit here. No food. No supplies. Nada. This place is giving me the damn creeps. Fuckin' rathole." A pause before adding, "And cover her back up. Someone cared about this hag."
Izuku silently bristles at the term hag.
As the sound of retreating footsteps causes Izuku to exhale, he feels his heart suddenly fly into his fucking throat when he's suddenly hoisted up in the darkness and pinned against the wall. Izuku lets out a startled cry, his eyes clenching shut from the pain. As he reopens them, he meets the most memorable pair of crimson eyes he's ever seen. Calculating. Piercing. Cunning.
Most of all, dangerous.
A subtle smirk forms on the man's striking face as he says, "Found ya."