Fractured Wings

This game world shifted like clockwork, it's players dispersing like ripples across a fractured mirror. Ritsu Tanigawa, perched on the jagged remnants of a rooftop, watched the sun crest the horizon, the illusion of dawn cast in cast in binary hues of orange and red. 

Below him, Tomura Shigaraki stood amidst the league members that were also in this game. Ritsu's sharp mind dissected the man who had forcibly drawn him into this chaos. 

Ritsu's motivation's had always been and intricate labyrinth, one whose exits and entrances were constructed by his own hand. He sought a world where intellect reigned supreme, where the weak—those that were unable to navigate his mental mazes—were swept away in favour of the chosen few. 

It wasn't hatred that drove him, it was disdain, sharpened by years of listening to his fathers self-righteous diatribes. Hideki Tanigawa, the cold and calculating headmaster, had spent Ritsu's childhood trying to bend him into a cog for his perfect machine. 

Poisoning him at fifteen had been Ritsu's first act of rebellion—and his first triumph. 

His thoughts turned to Tomura Shigaraki. He was fascinating, but not in the way Ritsu admired. Shigaraki burned with chaotic fury, a maelstrom of destruction fueled by deep-seated anguish. Such unrefined potential, Ritsu mused. Tomura had raw power, but his vision lacked precision, a jagged edge in need of honing. 

"You're staring again." Shigaraki rasped, breaking the quiet. 

Ritsu pushed his glasses up to his nose, a faint smirk curling his lips. "Merely observing. It's rare to see someone carry so much weight and yet seem so unbalanced." 

Tomura's red eyes narrowed. "You always talk like that. Spit it out if you've got something to say." 

Ritsu descended from his perch, his sleek black suit catching artificial light. The digital green patterns stitched into the fabric flickered like veins of energy. "You have ambition Tomura. That's undeniable. But ambition without understanding is a candle in a hurricane. It flickers, it burns, and then its snuffed out. You should be the storm, not the flame." 

"And you're the one to teach?" Tomura scoffed, scratching his neck. 

Ritsu's smirk deepened. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I'm here to ensure you don't waste what's been handed to you." 

"You're weird. But go on then. Enlighten me." He was listening. Even if there was a slight dismissal in his tone. 

"The Hero Killer Stain," Ritsu began, his tone sharpening. "became a cultural phenomenon not because of his strength, but because of his ideals. Stain's philosophy resonated. He embodied something people, both civilians and villains, could latch on to. You on the other hand, have made noise, yes, but noise without harmony." 

"So I'm not good enough, because I don't spew nonsense about honour?" Tomura sneered. 

"It isn't about honour. It's about the message," Ritsu replied. "Stain's ideology painted him as a necessary evil in a corrupt system. You, are painted as a brat throwing tantrums. That perception is what keeps you from seizing the narrative. The public fear you, but they do not understand you. And fear without understanding breeds resistance, not allegiance." 

Tomura's fingers twitched. He stared at the ground, silent, his thoughts rippling like disturbed water. Before he could respond, the rooftops tension fractured. 

"Tomuraaaa! We found some goodies!" Toga's sing-song voice broke through the air as she and Twice ascended the stairs. She spun on her heel, blood-streaked knives dangling from her fingers like macabre charms. Twice followed, muttering a contradiction filled monologue about how successful their scavenging had been. 

Tomura didn't flinch, if anything, his lips quirked into a feint approximation of a grin. He waved them off, his attention drifting back to Ritsu. 

"They're loyal," Ritsu noted, his voice tinged with something almost approaching envy. "Loyalty is a currency worth hoarding, but even that has it's limits." 

"You talk like someone who has everything figured out." Tomura replied, the edge returning to his tone. "But where's your loyalty, Ritsu? What do you even want?" 

Ritsu met his gaze, unflinching. "A future shaped by intellect, where the chaos is controlled and power serves the mind, not the other way round." 

Before Tomura could retort, Toga's high-pitched laughter cut through the air. "Look! Look! Down there!" 

The group turned their attention to the streets below. Amid the shadows, a cluster of figures emerged. One recognizable figure was Crust. Another was the younger brother of the Iida family. Next was the son of the number two hero. Some other no names that Tomura wasn't interested in, and a face that made him smile, not with happiness but anger. 

Izuku Midoriya. 

But instead of flying into a fit of rage, Tomura carried something darker in him and he spoke lowly, almost to himself. "A new idea..." 

Tomura pulled something from his pocket. Insurance from his 'Master.' 

Ritsu watched him, intrigued. The pieces were shifting again, the maze taking on a new shape. The game's stakes had risen, and Ritsu couldn't help but wonder, was this the moment chaos became calculation? 

____

The sun hung low on the horizon, it's warm hues bathing the fractured cityscape in fleeting calm. The air was charged with an eerie tension, though Midoriya and his group were unaware of the storm about to engulf them. Luckily for them, they were all able to quickly reconnect with each other after the last rule split them apart, largely thanks to Todoroki as well as Class B's Setsuna Tokage. 

"I'm just glad we found each other again." Uraraka said, her voice a buoyant note in the silence. She leaned slightly on her knees, catching her breath, though her smile remained steadfast. 

Crust, standing like a shield among them, nodded firmly. "The new rule might have been chaos. But that just means the three days we have together cannot be taken for granted. Now we focus on strategy." 

Todoroki glanced at the surroundings with his mismatched eyes. "We need to find a way to communicate since those of us with phone's have no service in this world." 

Tetsutetsu's voice rang out with a defiant edge, his steel-coated fists clenched. "Yeah, maybe we find one of the players that already have points and make them add a rule for that." 

Midoriya, a little worried, projected confidence. "It's worth looking into. For now though we should continue moving as a group." 

A sharp whistle cut through the air. 

Crust's hand shot up. "Positions! Defensive grid!" 

The group snapped into formation without hesitation. Iida's engines flared, and Todoroki's hands shimmered with frost and heat. 

They were the first to see it. 

In the fading light, a figure moved, no a thing. The grotesque outline of a Nomu, although it wasn't as big as the one they had fought in the USJ. It shambled into view, it's body dripping malice. It's blank eyes stared forward, empty yet somehow unnervingly aware. Behind it, another appeared, this one different. It's leathery wings stretched wide, gleaming blood-red against the sky, it's movements eerily graceful. 

"Nomu," Uraraka whispered, her voice shaking. 

Midoriya clenched his fists, with the Nomu here, to him that only meant their leader must be here. "Tomura Shigaraki." And he was right, as soon as the name spilled out of his mouth, a figure appeared flickering into the light with deliberate malice. 

"Hello heroes." He rasped. "I really didn't expect to see so many UA students here without their little guardians to fall back on." 

Crust stepped forward, smashing his shields together to create a overbearing presence to try and scare them back. 

"Well, that's fine. I will happily be that replacement for them." He said in a crushing tone. 

Crust was a strong hero, Midoriya knew that. He was happy knowing that he was at the front leading them. He was happy to have him by his side in this moment. Not as happy as he would have been with All Might, but he was happy. 

The hero was kind and acted as a hero should. He had helped Midoriya with training when he woke earlier than the others, he always made sure to be the last one to fall asleep and make sure that no one would come near them to attack. 

Shigaraki's voice cut through again. "Twice, Now!" 

With a cackle and exaggerated movements, Twice created more clones, but not of Shigaraki and himself, of the Nomu. The duplicates joined them, the red-winged Nomu letting out a guttural screech as it took to the skies. 

"Hold the line!" Crust yelled out, raising his shield like a hand to block an oncoming blow. 

Todoroki unleashed a massive wave of ice, the ground trembling beneath it's weight. Frost surged forward, engulfing the nearest Nomu and pinning them in place. His breath fogged in icy air, his face a mask of focus. 

But even as the ice crept and the battlefield fractured. The group was being forced apart, each hero drawn to their own desperate fights. Iida darted through the chaos, engines roaring as he tried to reach out to Tetsutetsu, who was locked in a brutal melee. 

Midoriya himself was cornered, he had dispatched of three Nomu with a few hits and they had fallen. A nomu loomed over him, it's hulking frame blotting out the light. He lunged forward wit One For All, a resounding smash cracking it's arm. But before he could press the advantage, the creature melted into a viscous, mud-like substance, dissolving before his eyes. 

"What-?" Midoriya's voice faltered as the muck pooled away, revealing two figures standing in it's place. Shigaraki and another man, one who was taller than the former by a leap, he had on dark clothing with green accents, he wore round glasses that were squidged up to the bridge of his nose. 

Shigaraki's lips curled into a sadistic smile. "Surprised?" 

The other man stood silently, his hunter eyes fixed on Midoriya. His gaze was devoid of any empathy. After a moment he spoke. "Are you certain about this?" 

Shigaraki gave a curt nod. "Do it." 

The man's expression didn't change but his eyes began to glow. Midoriya's vision wavered, the world blurring at the edges. He staggered, clutching his head as a dark fog seeped into his consciousness. 

"No," Midoriya gasped, he remembered a similar feeling from the sports festival, he believed the vestiges would help him again, but they didn't. His mind slipped into an abyss. The last thing he heard was Uraraka's voice, piercing through the haze. 

"Deku!" she screamed, her voice breaking. "DEKU!" 

And then silence. 

***

The man called himself Ritsu Tanigawa. His voice was smooth as silk and deep giving it a more mature tone compared to the other League members Midoriya has met. 

"Three trials Midoriya Izuku," he announced, his tone drenched in some untold disdain. "Quick, efficient and clear. Complete them, and then you'll wake. Fail and you will remain here till your death." 

Midoriya stood at the edge of the void with his fists clenched. The air was thick and suffocating yet weightless, like the breath of something unseen pressing on his skin. 

Before him, a door materialized: black wood veined with green lines. 

It had the Kanji sprawled across it for: Hall of mirrors. 

The room swallowed him whole, it's walls stretching into infinity. A thousand fractured reflections stared back at him, twisted versions of himself. One bore angry scars of failure. Another had hollow, lifeless eyes, another was cloaked in blood, it's face a mask of guilt. Each one whispered accusations. 

Coward. Imposter. Burden. 

'Was that me?' he thought to himself. 

One reflection stepped forward, it's movements a grotesque parody of his own. It sneered, it's voice dripping venom. 

"Yes. I am you. And I know you. You're terrified that they'll all realize you're not good enough. You're terrified they'll realize what you truly are... quirkless, weak, disposable." 

Midoriya shook his head violently, but the images closed in, surrounding him, suffocating him. "I'm not that kid anymore... I'm not you." he repeated like it was a lifeline. 

And it was true. After he moved to Tokyo he made friends, Iida being his first one, and his best friend. He met All Might, he got his quirk a couple years after, his mom got a better job, she looked happy, he applied to UA and he got in. 

"I'm not you." 

His fists slammed into the nearest reflection, the glass shattering into light. The fragments exploded outward, each shard dissolving into nothingness. The whispers faded. 

Another door appeared. 

Midoriya now stood in a vast empty space. Two platforms floated before him, suspended in a void. On one, his friends stood bound and helpless: Uraraka, Todoroki and Iida all tied up and gagged. On the other, a faceless crowd of civilians cried out for his help as fire raged out in front of them. 

"Save one group. The other... perishes, no tricks no escape. Choose." 

"I can't..." Midoriya's voice faltered. "I can't do that. There has to be another way." 

'If only I could move like All Might.' 

"Optimism does not save lives. Decisions do. And quick, the clock is ticking." 

The platform began to crumble. The civilians screamed. His friends looked at him, their eyes pleading. 'How did they even get caught?' Midoriya didn't want to believe it, but to him, the fact that the class B students or Crust were not here only could have meant that they were still fighting. 

"I can't lose them." he whispered as he clenched his hand over his heart. 

The options clawed at his chest, ripping him apart. He leaped into action, using One For All to blast forward, trying to save both. But as he reached out, the platforms disintegrated into smoke, leaving only silence. 

"No!" He yelled out into nothingness. He looked around him only to see black, a wide space filled with nothing but this dark shade. 

"Times up! Seem's you failed them both. Perhaps you should learn limits, Izuku Midoriya." 

Again he was somewhere else, but this time it was familiar. He stumbled forward, his boots scraping against cracked pavement. He recognized the place immediately... the alley outside Aldera Junior High. The sharp scent of damp concrete filled the air, and the feint, acrid tang of distant smoke tugged at his senses. The world around him was drenched in an eerie, muted light, like a film perpetually stuck in twilight. Everything looked smaller, more confined, as though the alley itself had shrunken to swallow him whole. 

The sound of laughter echoed, sharp and cruel. Midoriya froze, his stomach twisting. He turned to see them: a younger Bakugou, flanked by two lackeys, their grin wide and merciless. His younger self stood before them, shoulders hunched, clutching a charred notebook to his chest. The notebook's edges were blackened and curling, smoke still trailing faintly from it. 

"What's wrong Deku?" Bakugou's voice sliced through the air, dripping with mockery. "Gonna cry? Maybe you should've written down a way to grow a spine in one of those stupid books of yours." 

The young Midoriya shook his head, clutching the notebook tighter. "I-I just wanted to—" 

"Wanted to what?" Bakugou's hand snapped forward, grabbing the notebook and yanking it away. He glanced at it with feigned disinterest before tossing it over his shoulder. It landed in a puddle with a hollow splash. "You'll never be a damn hero. Not in this life." 

The memory replayed as if it were freshly unfolding, a vivid and inescapable. Midoriya's fists clenched, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to yell, to stop it, but his voice felt strangled, his body an unwilling spectator to his own torment. 

"Just leave me alone," the younger Midoriya mumbled. The words were feeble, barely audible. 

"What was that?" Bakugou leaned closer, his grin turning feral. "You think anyone's gonna save you? You think they'll care about a quirkless nobody like you?" 

In the corner, he could see someone standing silently, a senior of the school. He stood there as if he was wondering if he should call for help or not. As if to prove Bakugou right... he left without uttering a word. A silent condemnation. 

The scene shifted abruptly, like pages being ripped out of a book and rearranged. Now they were in the school's courtyard. The air was heavy with heat, the sun glaring down mercilessly. Midoriya was on the ground, his uniform singed. Bakugou loomed over him, small sparks crackling at his fingerprints. 

"You really don't get it do you?" Bakugou sneered, crouching down to meet Midoriya's teary-eyed gaze. "You're not cut out for this. Just give up." 

The younger Midoriya didn't respond. His lips trembled as he struggled to keep the tears at bay. His hands clutched the edges of his burned notebook. 

"Better yet," Bakugou's voice dropped, cold and venomous, "why don't you take a swan dive off the roof? Maybe you'll get a quirk in your next life." 

The words hit like a physical blow, reverberating through the dreamscape. Midoriya staggered as if the force of them had struck him now. He clutched his chest, struggling to breathe. The memory replayed again and again, Bakugou's cruel words looping like a broken record, each iteration louder and more distorted than the last. 

I should have realised it then, that we had stopped being friends a long time ago. 

"Stop it," Midoriya whispered, his voice cracking. "Please stop." 

But the dream didn't relent. It dragged him forward to the next scene. He stood on the roof of Aldera Junior High, the city stretching endlessly around him. The younger Midoriya was there, his back to him, standing perilously close to the edge. 

His uniform was scorched, and his notebook was clutched tightly in his trembling hands. Tears streaked his dirt-smudged face, his lips moving silently, mouthing words that never reached the air. 

Midoriya wanted to call out, to stop himself from taking that step. But his body wouldn't obey. He watched in helpless agony as the younger version of himself climbed onto the ledge. The wind tugged his hair, his too big shoes slipping slightly against the concrete. 

"All I wanted," the younger Midoriya whispered, his voice raw and broken, "was to be a hero. I thought we'd be heroes together Kacchan. I though..." His voice cracked, the words dissolving into quiet sobs. 

Midoriya's heart shattered. He could feel every ounce of despair that had consumed him in that moment, the weight of years of rejection, ridicule, and loneliness pressing down like a vice. 

The younger him took a step forward. The world seemed slow, each movement dragging like a film reel caught in molasses. His foot hovered over the empty air, and for a terrible, heart-stopping moment, it looked as though he would fall. 

But then the world went black. 

When Midoriya woke up, the transition was jarring. Bright, sterile light flooded his vision, and the hum of machinery buzzed faintly in his ears. He blinked, disoriented, his mind struggling to piece together where he was. The scent of antiseptic and clean linen grounded him: a hospital. 

"Deku!" 

The voice cracked with emotion, and when he turned his head, he saw Uraraka sitting by his bedside. Her face was pale, streaked with tears that she made no effort to wipe away. Her hands clutched his with a desperate intensity, as though afraid he might disappear if she let go. 

"You're awake," She said, her voice trembling. 

Midoriya's throat felt dry, his voice hoarse as he spoke. "What... happened?" 

"After the League left, you went unconscious and have been for the last day." She explained as her grip on his hand grew tighter. 

The memories of everything came rushing in, like a tidal wave. The nightmares echoed. He squeezed his eyes shut. Every insult, every sneer, every shove Bakugou delivered, every time he'd been told he was nothing without a quirk... it had carved into him, reshaping his spirit in ways he hadn't understood until now. 

That version of him had been broken, fractured beyond recognition, a boy who didn't see a future. 

But that wasn't him anymore. 

The air felt lighter now, even in the antiseptic room. His mind had whispered to him that the boy on the roof had died that day, and maybe... that was okay. Maybe that's what had to happen for him to be reborn. He wasn't the quirkless child anymore, he wasn't the victim. 

He was a flame rekindled, burning brighter for all the times it had nearly been snuffed out. 

You're still here. You survived. 

Midoriya let out a shaky breath. He wiped at his eyes, his hand trembling as it brushed away tears. The ache in his chest lingered, but it felt like a reminder now, a scar that proved he had endured. 

"You really scared us you know." She admitted. "I thought we lost you." 

"I thought so too," Midoriya murmured. He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the worry etched into her features. He swallowed hard, guilt and gratitude swirling in his chest. 

Uraraka's eyes softened. "Are you really okay? I mean... really okay?" 

Midoriya hesitated. The easy answer would have been to nod, to reassure her that everything was fine. But he wasn't the same boy who masked all his pain and scars with smiles and apologies. 

"No," he said firmly. "But I will be. I... I've been holding onto a lot for a long time. Things I never wanted to face. But now... I think I'm ready to let go." 

Uraraka tilted her head, her brows furrowing in concern. "Let go?" 

Midoriya's gaze drifted to the ceiling, his thoughts swirling. "The past. All the hurt, all the things I let define me." He explained. "I want to grow, and keep getting better, be the best hero there is, even better than All Might. And become: Champion." 

He had decided. He didn't think that it would be in such a setting but Midoriya had finally found out his hero name.

Her expression softened, her lips curving into a faint smile. "That sounds like you. Always moving forward and doing his best. And good name by the way. " 

"Thanks." He chuckled weakly, the sound raw but genuine. "It's all I know how to do." 

The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable but contemplative. Then, her Uraraka's fingers fidgeted with the glove in her hands. She glanced at him, her cheeks tinged with a blush. "Can I... can I ask you something?" 

Midoriya blinked and nodded slowly. "Of course." 

She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the fabric. "Can I call you Izuku?" 

The question caught him off guard. For a moment, he stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. She wasn't just asking to use his name. She was acknowledging the real him, not the nickname that was used by his bullies in the past that she just found 'cute'. 

She was acknowledging who he was becoming. 

A small genuine smile stretched across his face. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'd like that." 

Uraraka's face lit up with a mixture of warmth and relief. "Thank you Izuku." she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Before either of them could say more, the door opened. A nurse, one of the few in the game, came in. Her expression was grim. 

"Excuse me," she said, "Crust is in the next room. His condition has worsened."