You're Supposed To Be Dead...

[NicTheDjinn]

Izuku groaned as he pushed himself out of the pile of trash he’d unceremoniously landed in, rubbing at the side of his head. Man, that was a tough fight. He didn’t even see the punch that had knocked him out, but surely that's what had happened. He hadn’t overused One for All or any other aspect of it, he wasn’t sick, he hadn’t been injured. He slowly got himself out of the trash pile, looking around. Well, this was definitely not the street he’d just been fighting on. And it was just the middle of the night, now the sun was rising. “Guess I was knocked out for a while there…” he mumbled to himself, deciding to start making his way back to the agency.

He replayed the fight over in his head, recalling that it really had gone pretty well. Where things got fuzzy was after that smaller villain had managed to press his hand to Midoriya’s chest and there was a bright flash of light. That must’ve been what did it. Some kind of knock out quirk or something similar. He sighed, looking around at the early morning joggers and the overworked, underpaid workers making their way to their jobs. He gave a smile and a polite nod and wave to those that noticed him but… he began to see a trend. Many of the people walking by him seemed… shocked to see him.

That was odd, to say the least. Izuku knew these streets well and patrolled them often, he even recognized a few of these civilians!! So why did they seem shocked and, in some cases, scared to see him? They began to avid him all together, Izuku pausing to watch a pair of young kids start crying, their mother gathering them into her arms before running away. “What was that about..?” He wondered to himself, his thoughts being cut short but the sound of sirens. Before he knew it, police cars had screeched to a stop on the street and officers were surrounding him, demanding that he put his hands up and come with them peacefully.

They put him into the back of his car and took him down to the station, not telling him what was wrong or why he was being arrested. No, they just responded with “You know what you did” and “Real sick joke you’re playin’ here, man” or nothing at all. They got him into an interrogation room, trying to get him to admit to being a villain, how he thought it was a good idea to walk around looking like he did. He answered his questions as best as he could but he was so confused, it just provided them with no answers and more frustration.

They left him alone for a while, Izuku holding his head in his hands. He sighed heavily, his head pounding. His head snapped up as he heard the door open, a familiar face stepping in. But not in a good way. “Tenko…” he murmured, swallowing. Tenko Shimura, or Tomura Shigaraki as he’d last seen him going by, former leader of the League of Villains. Free. Out of Jail. And with both of his arms.

What. The hell. Was happening.

-----

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The clock on the bedside table droned on and on. Sometimes it would be in time with the turning blades of the ceiling fan and sometimes opposite them but never quite in sync. An urge deep within in him wanted to reach over, to take the clock in all five of his fingers and render it silent for good. Render all of it silent and still, finally, make it all stop like it should have when he’d left this world. Apathy won out and those hands remained gloved and the clock remained noisy and whole. The man’s arms were curled around a pillow, his pillow, holding it tight against an aching, empty chest. As if it wasn’t just an object. As if it could exude the warmth and comfort of the man who had once laid his head upon it.

The room was unbearably empty except for the person laying on one side of the bed, curled around that pillow almost in the fetal position. The only light that penetrated the space was from what sun dared invade cracks in the window shade, giving the expanse of the space a fuzzy, washed-out feeling. In proper light, the room was a cozy shade of grey-green. It had taken a full day of paint-splattered madness to get it perfect. The two of them had been absolutely covered in it when the project was all said and done, but… The way he had smiled when they finished, wet paint still shining on the walls, had been more than worth it. They’d ordered take-out and ate it sitting right in the middle of their bedroom’s carpet while watching the paint dry in the comfort of the other’s presence.

Now he was alone staring out past his own ragged, overgrown bangs over the expanse of the empty half of their bed. His mop of a mane came almost to his shoulders, poking out haphazardly from the hood of a scavenged All-Might hoodie he’d dragged out of the closet. It was too big, a birthday present to a man who’d been quite a bit bulkier than he himself was. Laying on his side like this, he could almost pretend what little warmth the fabric trapped against his skin came from a strong body wrapped around his own, comforting him after this nightmare of a reality-

Vvvvvvvffff- vvvvvvvffff-- Vvvvvvvffff- vvvvvvvffff

In the empty apartment, the sound of a phone going off echoed like the buzz of a particularly insistent wasp. Fingers tightened on the pillow, a pale and scarred face tucking into the comforter a little more. With a deep and raspy inhale, the figure on the bed waited for it to pass… Likely it was another one of their friends, calling in to check on him. That happened less and less as time passed- he just. He couldn’t sit and chat with them like everything was how it used to be. Like everything was still okay, like the world had meaning, like it wasn’t his fault he’d-

Vvvvvvvffff- vvvvvvvffff-- Vvvvvvvffff- vvvvvvvffff

Heralded by a slow exhale, the man relinquished the pillow, placing it carefully against the headboard where it belonged. In the silent apartment, the susurrus of his clothing dragging along the comforter was nearly deafening. He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, pins and needles traveling up his numb legs when they impacted against the soft carpeting. Black fabric clung to his feet- much like the fabric on his hands. Exactly so, in fact, only two of his toes bared and the others snuggly hidden away. Bones creaked and tendons snapped as he stood, a grimace accompanying a painful roll of his neck. The yellow hood drooped over his eyes, the man then pushing it back and freeing blue-grey hair. The first few steps forward were shaky, a gloved hand reaching out to brace himself against a wall while the feeling slowly returned to his stiff legs. The world past the bedroom door was dark, the barest traces of sunlight finding its way in, illuminating the edges of furniture here and there. The only bright light came from the kitchen, a bloom of blue through the oppressive darkness. The vibration and factory-ringtone hadn’t let up once, the caller quite persistent. Red eyes squeezed shut as he lifted the offending object to his ear after sliding the green phone icon across the screen.

“What?”

The word came out sharp and raspy like his voice hadn’t been used to communicate in much too long.

“...Tenko Shimura? This is Officer Tamakawa with the Musutafu Police Force. We’ve been trying to get ahold of you, there’s… A situation. It’s about Mr. Midoriya... We need you to come in.”

There was no answer for a long moment, enough time passing that officer spoke again.

“Hello? Mr. Shimura-”

“What do you want? To hear the whole story again? About how his blood felt on my face after that villain tore open his chest? How no one made it in time to save him? Or do you finally want to throw me in a cell for what I did afterward?”

It’s more than he’d spoken in months, each word taking effort to be pulled from his throat.

“I’m done with this. All of this. Or did you all forget? I’m not a Hero, anymore, Officer.”

“Mr. Shimura, please. This isn’t about… before. It’s sensitive information, I can’t tell you over the phone, we need you to come in.”

Maybe it was something in the officer’s voice that persuaded him… or maybe it was just that he had nothing to lose, anymore. A long breath escaped his dry and cracked lips.

“I’ll be there.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up, not interested in listening to the Officer’s further assurances. The phone clattered as it hit the counter, sliding a bit before hitting another phone of the same model. This other phone was in a red, white, blue, and yellow case, and covered in a thin layer of dust. Tenko didn’t bother charging that one anymore.

The lanky man made his way to the bathroom, eyes narrowing as he flicked on the too-bright light. Red welts glared back at him from the mirror accusatorially, sharp points of contrast at his neck and around his eyes. Some were decorated in thin scabs, a small trail of dried blood indicating the recent addition of one thin line. Old habits died hard. Like so many things, it seemed pointless to try and stop himself now. The sink counter was littered with various lotions and creams. Many of them had gone unopened long enough to expire. Tenko’s eyes roamed over them but he settled on a wet washcloth, wiping his face and neck with it. He’d mustered enough energy to shower the day before, at least… His bed-mussed hair still smelled faintly of Izuku’s shampoo- like cinnamon and sweet pastries. Tenko had been so, so carefully portioning it out, pouring a little water in it to help stretch it further. Sure he could buy more but then it would just be his… Not theirs. After that shower he’d found the hoodie, curled up on their bed, and… Let go of the hours.

The crusty blood wiped off, he went to slip on his red shoes. They were right by the front door where he’d kicked them off last week after a trip to the convenience store. Izuku would have been upset by the amount of junk food and microwavable meals Tenko ate these days- when he ate at all.

The sunlight was near-blinding on the other side of the door. Birds were singing, trees were in bloom… Yet none of that reached the pale man as he turned around, locking their front door tight. Few things mattered to him anymore, but… This was their home. Izuku’s home. The home they’d eaten together in, watched movies and news broadcasts in… Loved each other in. It was all he had left, and he would protect it as much as he could.

Tenko’s feet carried him down the steps to the ground floor, then out to a small car that was covered in leaves and dust. Most places he went these days were close enough to walk to, so it had been left unattended. The inside smelled of stale fast food and a hint of mildew. A bleached All-Might figure hung from the rearview mirror with it's ever-present almost mocking smile. A bit of anger rose in Tenko as he ripped the figure from its cord only for guilt to wash through him. He set it down carefully on the passenger's seat. Had he any tears left they likely would have spilled in that moment. The entirety of the drive to the Police Station was silent. Perhaps it was some cosmic joke that there was no traffic lest other drivers see the disgraced former Hero out and about in the sunlight.

The Police station was familiar, and that familiarity set his stomach at ill-ease.

Flashes of red, too-warm, splattering against his face and neck. Those green eyes, looking down into his, full of pain and relief. A wobbly smile. He'd protected him, saved his life. That was so like him, to risk it all for someone else. Izuku’s body against his, falling, pushing them both to the ground. His hands had been shaking, careful to hold the body against his with all but two of his fingers. He’d tried everything. They’d been taught what to do as heroes. How to administer CPR, to call for an ambulance. Chest compressions had left his hands stained sticky with blood, his gloves soaked through with it… It did nothing when said chest had a gaping hole in it, but he had to try something.
Even as the light left Izuku’s eyes, he had to try.

Even as his world crumbled around him, he had to try.

Tenko had made it all the way to the Station’s front door before he was able to pull himself out of the painful memory. He took a moment and waited for his hands to stop shaking before pulling the handle and stepping inside.

He was recognized immediately, an officer standing and coming to meet him.

“Mr. Shimura, thank you for coming. We know this is a sore subject, but we didn’t think we should call Mrs. Midoriya until we had a clearer picture of what was going on…”

Tenko could feel the eyes on him as he was escorted to an interrogation room. They all looked like they were expecting something from him. Some seemed weary. Others hopeful. There was a weird energy in the station, everyone quiet and on edge. Like… The calm before the storm or the final moments before a branch bent too far and snapped.

Tenko didn’t know what he was expecting on the other side of that door, but what he got washed all the color from the room and all the warmth from his body. He stood there, neck covered in scratches, dark circles under his puffy eyes, body swamped in an All-Might hoodie, looking at the last person he ever expected to see again.

Izuku.

Sitting across from him… Was the man he’d lost. The man who's body had grown cold before help could arrive.

How.

How?

The world felt like it was crumbling under his feet again, but he pushed past it when the mirage spoke. That… Wasn’t how his Izuku said his name. There was fear in that. Anxiety. Even in their worst fights, Izuku hadn’t spoken to him with that tone of voice. Other details began to pop out, little things rising to the surface. Scars he didn’t recognize. The lack of warmth in those clear green eyes. Differences in the Hero Suit.

This… Wasn’t his Izuku at all.

Red eyes narrowed, something like anger finally filling the emptiness that had been aching within his chest for so long.

“Who are you?” It was a hiss between chapped lips, Tenko not realizing he’d moved forward until he felt the officer’s hand on his shoulder. “What game are you playing? Is this fun to you, wearing the disguise of a dead man?” There was venom in his voice as he leaned over the table, defying the officer’s grip. “Izuku Midoriya is dead. I should know, he died in my arms.”

[MTheQueen]

Izuku's mind ran about a mile a minute, trying to process everything that was going on. Everything had seemed to similar up until he was suddenly arrested, and now...

He leaned back slightly as Tenko got closer, hissing at him from behind chapped lips. The cop was holding him back, but not in any way that a cop would a criminal. Especially one of Tomura's infamy.

There was always a line between Tenko, the childhood friend, and Tomura, the supervillain, that Izuku had hopped he could help the blue-haired man cross once more. It broke his heart to find that that was no longer a possibility. There was too much gone of the friend that Midoriya once knew. The same could almost be said here nut... Tenko was different. Different than any way Izuku had ever known him to be. There was genuine anger and rage behind his eyes at seeing Izuku instead of crazed joy at having the hero trapped.

He blinked, letting out a breath as the other continued. "Dead? N-No... No I- I didn't-" He blinked, his bright green eyes flickering from Tenko's face to the cop's, then back again.

"Tenko, I- I don't understand what's happening here. How are you- I thought I had--" He cut himself off. He couldn't just say that he thought Tenko was still in prison!! That would just set the other off. And something here had very clearly changed. Tenko had both of his arms. The only way to defeat him... Izuku could never forget the sound of bones snapping and breaking apart, flesh and muscle tearing, Tomura's screaming... It had been a gruesome, terrifying act, but it was the only thing that Izuku could do to save everyone. It was nothing he'd ever make up in his mind.

He swallowed, his eyes focusing on Tenko's. "I don't know what's going on... I don't. But please... I am Izuku Midoriya. This isn't a disguise. I swear, it isn't."

[Final]

Red eyes narrowed imperceptibly.

Tenko had years and years of practice reading his fiance’s expressions and body language, and whoever this was happened to be doing a pretty good job at imitating it… But there were some differences. The way Izuku looked at him, and back at the cop… Like he was expecting the cop to step in, or save him. Like he was some sort of regret. It was the way he looked at funerals of civilians that had died before he could save them… But tinged with a bit of… was that fear? Apprehension?

His Izuku would never fear him. He’d loved him, they-

They’d loved each other...

“Mr. Shimura?” The detective finally spoke up, after Tenko didn’t move or make a sound for a little too long.

The ex-hero in question straightened up before waving the detective away, pulling the chair across the table from ‘Izuku’ out and taking a seat. His eyes never once left him, as if he expected him to try and get away, or vanish into smoke… Or maybe both.

“I’ll handle this, Detective… You didn’t tell Mom yet, right? Don’t. She’s suffered enough.” Tenko’s voice was calm and detached, the man carefully schooling his emotions into something more neutral and professional.

At least as professional as one could be in an oversized All Might hoodie and bedhead hair.

“...Fine, we’ll keep Mrs. Midoriya in the dark for now.” The detective didn’t seem pleased with the decision, but gave in all the same. He gave the two men a long look before shaking his head, sighing as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

They were alone. Just Tenko and ‘Izuku’... and anyone behind the one-way glass that took up a whole action of one wall.

For a time, all Tenko did was stare at the man across from him. It was so uncanny… while also being off. He almost didn’t blink as he stared, something that didn’t help his puffy, bloodshot eyes feel any less sore. Tenko knew he must look a mess, nothing like the image of Dust that the public was used to seeing, once upon a time. His hair was too long, his scars interlaced with fresh, self-inflicted wounds. Even the most studious imposter might have trouble recognizing him, now.

“So.” He starts, looking away from the man’s face, eyes drifting down to ‘Izuku’s’ hands. There would have been no point in cuffing the real Izuku, he would have managed to bust out of handcuffs with no more than 5% of his quirk… Tenko knew that. They’d tested it. Though, it would have been just like Izuku to keep them on anyway if he was arrested, just to help the cops feel safe…

“It’s a cliche, but I’m going to ask you some questions.” He started, leaning the chair back a little, one foot pressing against the edge of it to keep him balanced. Both dangerous hands settled on his own leg, a pinkie raised even though he was wearing his gloves. “Questions only the real Izuku Midoriya would know.”

Tenko took in a long breath.

“Try to do your best. No penalties for guessing, except, well. Being exposed as a fraud and going to jail… So let’s start. I’ll give you a couple of easy ones to start out. First… When’s Izuku's birthday, what’s his favorite food, and… Where was our first date?”

The first two wouldn’t be too hard for someone to learn, Izuku had done plenty of interviews over his career as a Hero… Even though he’d never quite managed to stop being stiff in front of the media. Tenko had always thought it was kind of cute, how nervous he’d get no matter how often they’d practice.

The last question, though, was more personal, private. Tenko held onto that memory like it was made of glass, as fragile as a newly-emerged butterfly.

He’d planned it all out, every last detail… and it had still somehow managed to go completely wrong. The All-Might Museum had abruptly had to close because of a leak in some of the building’s old pipes. The fancy restaurant had accidentally overbooked, and they’d had to wait an hour to get their seats- and not even the seats he’d been promised with the view of the city… No, they’d been shoved back into a corner, where the only view they got was of other people eating. On top of that, they’d been out of so many ingredients Izuku had to settle for his _fourth choice_ of a meal. Tenko had felt horrible.

Then, as he walked Izuku home, they’d stopped at the little preschool daycare where they’d first met, and… Izuku had kissed him, for the first time. It had been so soft, so hesitant… And Izuku had looked like a strawberry, he’d turned so red… And thanked him. Izuku told him he’d seen all the effort Tenko had put into the date and had been touched, even though it didn’t work out.

Even now, tinged with sadness as it was, the memory made his cold, tired heart warm a little… They’d never talked about it in interviews, only with a few close friends.

No imposter could tell him that...

[MTheQueen]

Izuku had been hoping for literally anything to start making sense any second here, but it seemed the universe had other plans. His eyes jumped between the bristling Tenko and the officer, his mind racing as the two conversed. Mom? He was calling Inko mom? They were close enough to do that? Other things weren’t adding up on top of that.

The way the officer addressed him as Mr. Shimura.
The way he actually responded to Tenko instead of insisting that he be called Tomura.
The oversized All Might hoodie that all but drowned the other man.
The way he seemed to actually care about someone else’s suffering.

Combine that with everything else and, well….

Stranger things had happened before, right?

The officer leaves them alone and for what felt like forever neither man speaks. Izuku remained in his seat, trying desperately not to sweat bullets and chase that strange idea any farther. Plenty of the information he was presented with made it seem like it was the case but… he needed more. More information. More proof.

He felt like he was going crazy.

Tenko’s voice drags him out of his thoughts almost immediately, Izuku leaning in slightly, the chain on the cuffs rattling softly as he moved. He hung onto every question as if the answer to it- his answer to it- would somehow illuminate the situation. Yet, he still assumed he misheard the last question.

’Where was our first date?’

For a moment, just a moment, Izuku’s mind is clouded by the sound of Tomura’s screaming- his own screaming- the sound of muscles and tendons stretching well past their limits and tearing and tearing tearing tearing

The sound is pushed away as Izuku lets out a slow breath, blinking a few times. He was certain now. Absolutely certain.

This was real. This was actually happening.

This was Tenko Shimura, a different version. Somehow, Izuku had been booted from his reality.

“My birthday is July 15th. My favorite food is katsudon, but it’s always the best when my mom makes it. She insists she does nothing different than most people but… I think it’s all the love for me that she puts into it.” His eyes don’t waver from Tenko’s as he speaks, even as he ventures into the question that can spell his doom. He hesitates for only a moment before continuing. “And… I can’t answer that. Because I don’t know. Because it never happened for me. The last time I saw you Tenko was only a few days before… when we were four… Your mom was still around then to help out the ointment on your scratches. Hana still watched out for you and snuck you pictures of your grandma… We played with Mon-Chan all the time… Your hair was still black.”

He swallows thickly, tears coming to his eyes. He does his best to blink them away, trying to build himself back up. “I… I am Izuku Midoriya. I can answer any question about myself to prove that. But… I don’t think I’m the same Izuku you knew.”

[Final]

July 15th. Tenko held out his left index finger, expression bland, unimpressed.

Katsudon. His left middle finger joined it. The flavor text about Inko’s cooking was almost enough for bonus points… But Izuku had always been a Momma’s Boy and he doubted it would be hard for a third party to pick up on that.

Not the same Izuku you knew. Red eyes went hard, cracked lips pulling into an even tighter frown. The two points Izuku managed were wiped off the board, Tenko’s fingers fanning out in a gesture of emptiness.

He stared at ‘Izuku” for a long moment, letting the ambient noise of the nearby wall clock and buzz of the fluorescent lights fill the silence. This ‘Izuku’ … Knew. Maybe not the full story, but he knew something, enough to hesitate. A few days before… when we were four. That prologue had been scrubbed out of his character the moment the HPSC had scooped him- broken and bloody- off the street. Their convenient lie was instead spoonfed out into the world- a horrible, murderous villain attack and the terrified child that had destroyed his home trying to save his own life. His whole murdered family and the villain had been reduced to nothing but dust. That was the tragic public origin of Tenko Shimura- the Hero Dust.

To this day he remembered the drills with an HPSC officer- First, you saw your sister’s, then your mother’s and your father’s bodies. You were hiding in a coat closet. The villain was wearing a mask. Keep it simple, a ski mask. He found you, tried to kill you with some sort of blade quirk. You were terrified and your quirk awakened, destroying everything- day in and day out, with little embellishments here and there to make it more believable.

Izuku had been one of the few he’d told what he knew of the truth- that the murderous villain and terrified child were one and the same. The memory was obscured, locked away in a desperate attempt to save his child mind… But flashes came, mostly in nightmares of blood and screaming often necessitating the other man waking him up. He’d had to tell him after they’d found each other again... Even more so when they became more than just childhood friends. There was no part of him he’d wanted to keep from Izuku, his Izuku… even the worst parts.

Tenko tilted his head.

“Not the Izuku I knew? Which Izuku are you then? A spare man!? An animated blowup doll!?” He spat. “There isn’t another Izuku, no secret telenovela long-lost twin, no robotic Izuku from the Izuku factory, no fucking Izuku clones, just assholes with transformation quirks and a deathwish so who the fuck are you!!??”

He didn’t know when he’d stood up, but Tenko found himself leaning over the table, eye-to-eye with ‘Izuku’. A few spiderwebbing cracks distorted the shiny metal where five fingers briefly brushed the tabletop.

“Don’t think that you can shed a few tears and seem credible. Izuku could fill buckets when he was really in his feelings.” He hissed softly.

He barely registered his reflection in Izuku’s eyes, but it seemed a visage befitting of the ex-hero that had turned a full five city blocks into a crater while clinging desperately to the gory remains of his beloved.