"But now I think I know why you were in Chicago. And maybe that's why I got this."
The moment was singed into Ace's memory. He watched Izuku freeze as his finger pressed play — the light in his eyes flickering out. No scream. Just silence.
"Woah, woah, Izuku?" Ace remembered himself asking. "Are you-?"
In slow motion, Ace watched Izuku begin falling, fear the only emotion in his mind. "IZUKU!"
Ace scrambles to him, grabbing the boy midair. Checks his breath. His pulse. His core temperature spikes, then plummets. His skin flashes once — faint light, like phosphorescence, then dims.
Inko crashes in from the hall — pure panic behind trained composure. Sees the MP3 player still glowing. Hears the final whisper of a spaghetti string guitar before-
"New blood joins this Earth, and quickly he's-"
She yanks the earbuds out. No response. Nothing.
Ace crouched with Izuku in his arms, heart pounding against flame-slick ribs.
"C'mon, kid. C'mon, you're okay. You're okay, right?"
But Izuku's eyes didn't flutter. His breath was faint, like wind trapped in a bottle. The pulse at his neck flickered — there, then gone, then there again.
"Ace—what happened?!" Inko's voice cracked like thunder.
He didn't answer right away. Just pointed with one trembling hand.
The music player, splayed out and active, still played.
Its glow pulsed faintly from the carpet like a dying heartbeat — and from it, the song sang:
"With time, the child draws in. This whipping boy done wrong! Deprived of all his thoughts—"
Inko's breath hitched. She stepped forward on instinct, eyes flicking between Izuku's still face and the device.
She reached for the player.
Ace caught her wrist — not rough, but urgent, raw. His voice cracked.
"Wait! Don't leave me too!"
Inko froze. Her eyes locked on his.
He looked wrecked. Not from the smoke on his skin, or the blood drying at his temple — but from the terror of watching something be taken. Again.
She bit her lip.
Then — deliberately — she took the earbud and plugged it into her ear.
"What I've felt, what I've known..."
Her eyes widened at the weight of it.
"Never shined through in what I've shown."
She snapped into motion, barking orders like she'd done in combat. "Ace — get three jackets. Find my spare medkit. Now."
She was already dialing.
"SSSP emergency line. Midoriya residence. I need a licensed hero unit, a secure line to Medical Command, and override clearance for priority evacuation."
"Never be, never see..."
Ace fumbled the jackets. Inko caught one mid-toss, Izuku's old green one, and wrapped it around him with trembling precision.
"Won't see what might have been."
She scooped Izuku up in her arms. He didn't stir.
The earbuds stayed in her ears, a whisper of metal and grief worming through her every nerve.
YOU ARE READING
Inheritance of Giants
Science FictionIzuku Midoriya learned early that the world was stranger than most people admitted. The skies were too loud. The shadows moved wrong. And sometimes cities vanished off the news, only to reappear in whispers and scars. Kaiju exist - not as legends, b...
