Work Text:
It started a year ago.
When a cure for cancer was distributed throughout the world.
It was a miracle.
Just in under two years scientists were able to cure cancer.
People celebrated. Headlines were calling it one of humanity's greatest achievements.
But miracles come with consequences.
And this one was spreading.
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
March 23, 2019
It started like any other day for Midoriya Izuku…
The sun filtered through his windows, casting a soft glow throughout his room.
The sweet smell of pancakes clouding his senses.
The smell was familiar and comforting.
His alarm blared like it always did.
He got up.
Made his bed.
Put on his school uniform.
Then made his way into the bathroom to brush his hair and teeth.
Once done, he shut off the light and made his way into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Izuku! How did you sleep?” His mom asked cheerfully as she stood by the stove.
“Good morning, mom,” Izuku responded brightly. “I slept alright, I didn't go to bed until later in the night though.” he said while yawning.
“Oh, honey, don't tell me you stayed up late reading those All Might comics again.”
“MOM! You know I grew out of that stuff!” Izuku responded blushing furiously - out of embarrassment.
“Then why do you have all that merch still littered around your room?” His mother asked - raising an eyebrow at him.
Izuku knew the answer.
He never really grew out of it. He discovered All Might comics when he was four and he’s been obsessed ever since.
He was amazed by All Might.
In the comics, he saved people with a smile that never faltered - even when it came to the worst situations. He was kind, strong, and brave. He stood strong like nothing could break his confidence. He was everything Izuku aspired to be.
Maybe in another life, he really was a hero. Maybe in that life he was able to save others with a big smile plastered on his face.
“I don't know, mom.” Izuku said with a shrug, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Guess it's just nostalgic.”
“Well,” she said with a chuckle, “maybe one day we’ll finally sort all that stuff and clean it out. I'll even get you new bedsheets without All Might's face plastered all over them.”
Izuku snorted.
“Sounds good, but only if I can get curtains with his face on them instead.”
Inko laughed, shaking her head as she slid a plate across the counter - two fluffy pancakes stacked perfectly - still steaming.
“Okay, okay - enough joking. What really kept you up so late?” She tilted her head, concern flickering across her face. “I know that look. You didn’t sleep.”
“Nothing big. Just school.” He shrugged. Poking at the pancakes.
His mother watched him for a moment - an awkward silence spreading over the two.
“You worry me with those short answers, Izuku.” she spoke softly. “If anything's happening, you know you can talk to me right?”
He nodded
“Yeah. I know.”
She smiled at him - not convinced
“Okay. Just making sure.”
Seconds passed before she spoke up again.
“Well I need to get to work. It's going to be a late night for me at the hospital - there are leftovers from last night in the fridge.”
“A late night? That's weird - you haven't had one in forever. Everything alright at the hospital?”
Inko offered him a smile as she poured her coffee into her to go cup.
“Nothing much. Just… patients who've been taking this new medicine for their cancer have been getting these weird symptoms. It's probably just a side effect.”
Izuku watched her quietly, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
“Just be careful. Alright?’
Inko smiled as she placed a kiss on his head
“Dont mother your mother.” She ruffled his hair before walking to the coat rack
“I'll be fine. I've handled many long shifts before.”
“Yeah…okay.” He said - watching as she put her coat on and walked out the front door.
He stared at their apartment door for a moment too long, before returning his gaze to the untouched plate of pancakes - appetite long gone by this point.
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
Izuku had never really liked school.
Not because he struggled with his work - if anything, he loved to learn.
It was the people.
They didn’t talk to him much.
Or if they did it was to whisper. Laugh.
Call him weird. Too quiet. Too much.
Most days, he was invisible. Other days, he wished he was.
And the teachers…
They always stuck him in the back row. Never called on him.
They just didn't like him. Why? He didn't know.
Except for Mr. Aizawa
An ex-Marine turned teacher - the kind of man who walked into a classroom and made everyone go silent and sit up straighter.
He didn't smile much.
And he always looks like he has RBF
or he's just severely constipated.
Izuku never figured out which it was.
Still, in the two years he’s been in Aizawa's class, he's never once felt small or invisible.
He wasn’t picked on or ignored.
Mr. Aizawa…saw him. And for once Izuku enjoyed going to school.
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
March 23, 2019 - 2:05 pm
The day had been like any other - long and boring.
Izuku glanced at the clock. It read 2:05pm.
There were still fifty five excruciating minutes left of the day and ten minutes left until the final period.
He sighed quietly and returned his gaze back to his notebook page - it was filled with a variety of sketches. Some were mindless doodles. Shapes that formed an intricate pattern across the paper. Others were more than that. Detailed drawings of All Might scattered across most pages of his notebook. Each one was drawn with detail and precision. But one page that stuck out to him the most was the one with the river.
He doesn’t really know what made him draw it. He hasn't seen the river since he was a kid - hasn't even thought about it either.
And yet…there it was, scrawled across the page - haunting him.
He kept telling himself the drawing meant nothing to him - it was just another sketch. But something about it stuck with him. Like one of those thoughts in the back of your mind you can't get rid of.
It was the first place he made a friend - and lost one.
He closed his notebook after that and turned his attention to the window. His mind wandered without consent.
And it found its way to a day filled with the hot sun, sunburn, the slow movement of the river…
Kids laughing.
A scraped knee.
Loud voices.
He’d just fallen in front of all the kids he went to school with - even the bigger ones, two grades ahead.
His knee stung. His face burned. Not from the sun, but from the kids laughing - at him.
No one helped him up.
He was six at the time - so he doesn't remember much about the day. Just the sound of his sniffles and the awful taste of dirt that made its way into his mouth when he fell.
Until a voice cut through the crowd of laughter - it was loud and sharp.
But somehow also bossy and unimpressed.
“You gonna sit there all day, or get up?”
He angled his head up, already dreading what or rather who he’d see.
Of course.
It was Bakugou Katsuki - the worst of them all.
He was two years older than Izuku. He was loud and mean. But everyone viewed him as royalty on the playground.
And there he was standing on a dry patch of land with his signature smirk - it was smug and stupid. And his eyes gleamed with mischief. Kind of like a racoon who just learned how to open a trash can.
Izuku wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
“Well, are you?” He said - moving into the river to stand in front of Izuku.
He had as much flair as a bratty teenage girl.
“Y-yeah…in a moment.”
“A moment? Seriously?” he scoffed, grabbing Izuku's arm and yanking him to his feet.
“Hey! Maybe a warning next time?” Izuku yelped.
Bakugou just stared at him.
“It was embarrassing. You want these extras to keep laughing at you?”
“N-no.”
“Didn’t think so,’ he muttered, already turning to leave.
“U-uh…thanks.”
Katsuki didn't bother looking behind him as he responded.
“Whateverrrrr, Deku.”
After that day, Katsuki and Izuku formed a strange kind of friendship.
Bakugo had gotten…weirdly protective. If anyone said something rude to Izuku, he’d snap back at them, stand up for him, even shove people if it got bad enough.
He was still an asshole about it. If izuku thanked him, he’d just grumble,
“Whatever, shitty Deku.”
He acted like it meant nothing. But Izuku didn't mind. He was just happy someone wanted to be around him.
Then one day - Katsuki stopped showing up at the river.
Days passed. Then a week. Nothing.
It wasn't until school started again that he learned - Bakugo had moved to America.
Just like that.
No goodbye.
The bell rang, snapping Izuku out of his thoughts.
Students began to shuffle into the hallway, their footsteps echoing off the tile as they headed towards their last class of the day.
Izuku lingered behind, taking his time packing up - quietly sliding books into his bag, slower than usual.
After zipping his bag shut and slinging it over his shoulder - he turned toward the door -
But his teacher's voice stopped him.
“Midyoria, you got a second?”
“Uh…y-yeah,” he murmured, his voice soft.
He approached Mr. Aizawa's desk slowly, keeping his head down, shoulders slightly hunched.
“I wanted to speak with you about the paper you recently submitted. It was good - better than good, actually. You analyzed every aspect of the article I had assigned. You put detail and effort into your essay. Most of your classmates didn't even bother reading what was assigned. I'm sure half of these were written with the help of outside material.”
Izuku shuffled on his feet, staying quiet. He didn't know to respond to the praise given to him - so he kept his head down.
“No one's really ever said something like that before,” Izuku mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think the paper was anything worth noticing. I just…put it together.”
“Come on, Kid. Dont cut yourself down before anyone has the chance to lift you up. You’re too concerned about what everyone else thinks of your work. What they think doesn't matter. Most of them aren't even capable of thinking.”
He paused and slid the paper over to Izuku - who waited several beats before picking it up.
When Mr. Aizawa finally spoke, his tone was flat - but there was a softness threaded into his words.
“What matters is what you think about it. You need to start trusting your judgment. Stop shrinking yourself into the space other people have forced you into.”
He leaned back in his chair, letting the weight of his words fill the silence.
“Your work matters, Kid. Even if no one else sees it - so don’t waste time trying to impress people who don't even pay attention.”
Izuku's chest tightened at the words - his ears not used to hearing the words coming from his teacher. He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the crackling of the intercoms
“Attention all students and staff. This is Principle Nedzu.”
Both of them looked up - Aizawa narrowed his eyes.
There was something off in the tone.
“Effective immediately, all students are to return home. Classes are dismissed for the day. Please remain calm. This is a precautionary safety measure due to a public health concern.”
Izuku's stomach dropped.
“Health concern?” Izuku echoed
Aizawas haze lingered on the intercom a little too long.
“Midyoria,” Aizawa said, tone sharp. “Come on. I don't like this.”
He was already standing. Grabbing his coat and keys. Moving toward the door.
Izuku followed - the hallways were crowded - too crowded. Voices clashed together in a mess of shouting and confusion. Panic buzzed in the air.
Students were pushing past one another, some yelling into phones, others crying, a few were sprinting towards the exits.
Izuku kept his eyes locked onto Aizawa, who was moving swiftly through the hallways, shoving through students without an apology.
When they finally reached the exit, Aizawa didn't hesitate. He yanked the door open and stepped outside the school - holding it just long enough for Izuku to follow.
“Kid, listen to me,” he said, voice low and urgent. “Get home. Lock every door. Don't open it for anyone - not unless you're sure you know them.”
He paused, just for a second. Making sure his words sunk in.
“If you see someone who looks sick - skin pale, eyes red, moving sluglishly - run. Don't wait. Don't try to help. Just run.”
“What? What's going on?” Izuku asked, his voice cracking.
“Go home, Midoriya.”
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Izuku standing in the growing silence - alone with nothing but his thoughts and the tightening knot growing in his chest.
Izuku watched as his teacher disappeared down the street - growing smaller and smaller. The crowd eating him up.
Someone knocked into him. Snapping him out of his trance.
“Move it, kid,” the stranger said in a very aggressive way. “People are trying to walk here.”
“Rude much,” Izuku muttered under his breath - starting to move in the direction of his apartment.
He jammed his hands into the pockets of his pants as they started to shake.
He picked up his pace - noticing the world around him was moving much faster than it had this morning.
The sidewalks were more packed now. People walking fast, shoulders tense, eyes were locked on their phones. Sirens blared in the distance.
He tried taking a deep breath - but the air felt thick enough to choke him.
A woman passed by him, muttering something he couldn't catch. A man was frantically typing on his phone. His hands were trembling. A group of high school students were crying.
His chest felt tight.
His throat burned.
He passed a crowd that was surrounding a TV in a store window.
While passing by Izuku managed to catch some of the headlines.
“OUTBREAK AT MUSUTAFU HOSPITAL. PATIENTS TURNING VIOLENT - A NATION WIDE LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT.”
Izuku froze.
His mom.
That was her hospital.
He took off running, heart crashing against his ribs - trying to break free.
Get home. Get home. Get home.
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
Izuku busted through the front door and immediately turned on the television,
His hands were shaking so badly - he almost dropped the remote.
Every station was an emergency broadcast.
Red banners. Sirens in the background. Newscasters speaking too loud and fast.
“-SPREAD CONTINUES TO WORSEN. VIOLENT ATTACKS IN SEVERAL WARDS. AVOID THE FOLLOWING AREAS AT ALL COST.’
Izuku's stomach twisted into a knot.
He flipped to another channel.
Then another.
They were all the same.
Static. Sirens. Chaos.
He finally landed on a station that had a live shot of the city skyline. There was smoke rising.
“As of this evening, we advise civilians to return home immediately and lock your doors. Do not attempt to go near hospitals or quarantine zones. Stay inside. Do not engage with anyone who is displaying erratic behavior-"
He turned to where his backpack lay on the ground, rummaging through it until his hands came around his phone.
He pulled it out and dialed his mother.
Straight to voicemail. He tried again.
Then again.
He tuned out all the noise around him - the world around him going silent.
There were no sirens. No rambling from the newscaster. No screaming.
It was peaceful and for just a second he felt like everything was going to be okay.
He knew it was a bad idea the moment the tears started.
At first, they slipped down his cheeks in silence - then something inside of him cracked, the tears started to pour down faster. And he couldn't stop them.
He curled into the couch, shaking, and clutching his phone like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. He redialed his mother again just so he could hear her voice.
“Hi there! You’ve reached Inko. I'm so sorry I missed your call - please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”
He sobbed - ugly, broken, shattered noises tore from his throat.
Ones he didn't even know a person was capable of.
They echoed off the apartment walls and crowded the space he once called home.
He tried to quiet himself - bit down on his tongue, curled into the couch - but nothing helped.
It kept coming.
So he laid there letting the grief consume every piece of him - until there was nothing left.
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
Minutes. Maybe even hours had passed and Izuku finally calmed himself down.
The only noises coming from the tiny apartment were his quiet sniffles and the TV.
The newscaster was still going on about the death toll, staying away from hospitals, seeking shelter, and how the world has come to an end.
He tried blocking it out and turned his attention to his phone.
It sat on the ground - dead along with any hopes his mother was still alive.
The apartment felt cold - that warm, comforting feeling it used to carry had since vanished completely.
He stared at nothing before finally standing up - not even bothering to shut off the TV.
His legs were numb as he moved towards his mothers bedroom.
It was untouched - like she'd only stepped out.
He curled beneath her sheets - still faintly smelling of her shampoo - and he let himself fall into a restless, uncomfortable sleep.
In his dreams, it was summer.
The sun was golden. His mothers laughter filled the air as they walked along the river bank. Her hand was holding onto his - just tight enough.
It made him feel safe.
He smiled up at her.
She returned it with that same bright smile that always made everything feel okay - even if it wasn't.
They continued walking in peaceful silence, the sunlight dripped through the trees above them. It danced across her - making her glow.
A moment passed before she spoke again.
“Say, why don't we get ice cream after this?”
“Really?!”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“Thanks, Mama!”
She laughed as Izuku bounced up and down beside her, vibrating with excitement.
And then -
Izuku jolted awake.
The warmth of the dream vanished instantly.
His eyes were wet. A single tear was clinging to his cheek, drying fast in the cold.
He blinked. The room had gone gray. Hollow.
He turned toward the digital clock on the sightstand.
2:03 am.
Sometime while he slept the sirens had gotten louder. More constant. More real.
He flinched and pulled a pillow over his ears, trying to drown them out.
Trying to hold on to the sound of her laugh.
But it was already gone.
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
By the time Izuku finally pulled himself out of bed it was already six in the morning.
And this wasn't like every other morning for him.
The golden glow of the rising sun did not spread throughout the apartment.
The comforting smell of whatever his mother was cooking was missing.
There was no cheerful “Good Morning!”
Just silence.
He moved to where his phone lay and picked it up, plugging it in. Nothing.
Weird - no power. When did that happen?
He walked over to the light switch to double-check. Still nothing.
The power was out.
He opened the door of the apartment.
The lights above flickered weakly - one was completely out, others were buzzing like a dying bug. The air was stale. No voices. No footsteps.
Not a peep from the other units.
Izuku stepped out - cautiously.
Apartment 304 - the Yamada’s - their door was open.
The door that was always shut and locked now hung crooked off the hinges, like someone wrenched it open and didn't have the time to close it.
He inched closer.
There were no lights on inside the apartment - the flickering hallway lights, combined with the natural light filtering through windows, casted the only glow into the room.
In the living area couch cushions were sprawled everywhere, a lamp was shattered on the ground. In the kitchen there were appliances knocked over and food littered the ground.
By the looks of the apartment - the Yamada’s left in a panic.
He opened the balcony door and peered over the edge - gripping the metal rail.
The cool morning air bit at his eyes, he barely felt it. He scanned the courtyard below. Other balconies.
There were no signs of life.
Just the same suffocating silence.
Officially freaked out, he turned and shut the balcony door and headed for the exit.
He stepped into the hallway - then he heard it.
A guttural groan. Not human at all.
Izuku rushed back into his apartment - locking the door behind him.
He slid down with his back pressed against the door, trying to steady his breath.
What was that?
Before he could think further, a soft scratching sound came from the other side of the door.
He stood slowly, careful to not make any noise - he looked into the peep hole.
There it was. Just standing there. Its skin was dull, sickly gray, and clinging to its bones. Eyes glazed white and unseeing, twitching in different directions. Its mouth hung open - too wide. Jaw cracked and lolling. Each breath it dragged in sounded wet and shallow, like it was drowning. Parts of its body looked broken - one arm hung limply at its side, twisted and bent in angles that weren't natural - its other arm dragged its nails down the door - which were jagged and caked with filth. It looked like it had once been wearing hospital scrubs, but they were barely that now - torn, soaked in blood, and barely hanging to its frame.
Izuku could smell the rot through the door.
He covered his mouth, biting back a gag.
Moments later, the figure shuffled away. And Izuku let the breath he was holding free.
In that moment, Izuku knew: he wasn't alone. He needed to leave.
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
Izuku packed light - some clothes, a little food, some water, and a photo of him and his mother. Weapons could wait; right now, he just needed to get out.
Before he left, he grabbed a flashlight from the hallway closet.
He stood still for a moment, letting his eyes sweep over the apartment. The faint smell of his mothers cooking lingered. It was bittersweet and haunting. Every hug, every laugh, every smile - every memory rushed at him like a tsunami tears through a city. The worn fabric of the couch, the slightly cracked picture frames, the way the floors creaked beneath his feet - they all whispered stories of a life that was slowly slipping away.
He swallowed, hard - and with a final glance Izuku turned on his heels and walked away.
Shortly after Izuku exited the apartment complex, and somewhere off in the distance, a bone chilling scream pierced the air.