Something Further than the Universe

Chapter XVII ~ Slow and Subtle Sunrise

All of a sudden, his words came back to haunt him. He regretted them so, so much, almost more than he regretted anything else in his life, as they were so uncharacteristically unlike him. He was just so mad, he guessed, in that moment, so sick of everything that'd happened, that he had to let it all out somehow, use whatever he could as his outlet. He hadn't done anything inherently wrong, per se, and if Mina had just let time run its course, he wouldn't have even had to have such a crude conversation in the first place.

But that didn't make it okay. It wasn't okay. It would never be okay. For at least a little bit of the weight to be lifted off of his shoulders, he'd have to say sorry.

Hopefully that'd fix things. Make her hate him a little bit less, make up for at least one shitty thing he'd done. The list was long.

And he owed her. For a lot of things. Yes, he'd be a dunce to say she didn't mess up, but admittedly, he did too.

This was the least he could do.

Izuku finished his breakfast, mind once again on Uraraka. He was terrified, truly transfixed on the fact that he had nothing to offer, no plan. He'd be going in blindly.

Maybe he could ask for some advice, vent to someone, beat himself up over all of the dumb decisions he'd made in peace—just him and one other person, someone he could trust—for every last ludicrous thing he'd done, everything that brought him shame to his name, everything he wished to take back. And as of right now, there were a lot. His words, some of the things he'd said, and maybe, if it counted, falling for Mina and keeping quiet about it until it was too late. (He definitely did not regret the falling-for-Mina part, but hiding it from Uraraka was undoubtedly debatable.)

And so, in a frightened frenzy, he texted the only person he knew he could. He was honestly pretty sure he was the only person willing to listen to him at all.

~+~

Dagobah Beach was especially sandy for the dawn of a new day during a relatively relaxing week, and it was all because of the wind—breezy, airy, rough and sharp like the dead of winter barely beginning into spring. Running toward his confidant, Izuku had to keep his eyes closed to prevent from going blind, having to kick stray grains of sand out of his shoes every once in a while in order to stop his socks from getting caught on nearby shards and seashells. They were sharp, digging deep into his skin, and honest to God he wished he'd picked a better spot—not the bitter, blustery beach at 6:00 a.m.

Hurtling toward his Hero, hands high up in the air, Izuku frantically waved all over the place. "All Might! You have no idea how glad I am to see you!"

"Is that right, my boy? What's got you so worked up so early in the morning?"

He froze, had no clue where to begin. "Oh, everything. I just have to get it off my chest."

"Alright, then. Go ahead. You did say it was an emergency."

Izuku scratched his cheek. "Well, sort of."

All Might reacted overdramatically—and a little sarcastically—with histrionics. "And to think! I had so much work I could've gotten done—"

"No, no, no!" Izuku started, hurrying to try and correct himself. Yet another mistake to mark down in the books. His cheeks were red, knowing what was ahead. "It's not like that! It just doesn't involve... Heroics. And I was thinking, y'know, since you're really only my mentor for that, this wouldn't be a big deal to you, but, um, it's a big deal for me."

"Midoriya, listen"—putting a firm hand on his shoulder, All Might gave his successor a simple smile, the kind of smile Izuku had admired ever since he was a boy—"I am your mentor for that, but that's not all. I'm here to help you with anything you might need. Life problems, friends, school work, anything. If it's a big deal to you, then it's a big deal to me. So, tell me. What's on your mind?"