Chapter 18: Renewal

The start of the fall semester brought with it new dormitories and old faces. Auburn leaves blanketed UA's grounds, the air crisp with the smell of apples, and Izuku hadn't realized how much he missed those two towering glass skyscrapers. To think he had almost been denied the opportunity forever! His mother (a broken mess greeted him at the hospital, aged ten years with a face so red and puffy she looked as if she had been stung by a scorpion) had been against him returning, and it had taken nothing less than penitence from All Might himself to change her mind. What was fall? A shedding of the old, preparation for the new.

And the world, without All Might, spun on. He had refused all public appearances since he announced his retirement. Neither had there been news from the man in Tartarus. The League, what remained of it, was also silent. The Kamino Nightmare filled the news for a week before being upstaged by a political scandal. Now, the most trending topic was some celebrity's marriage. All that effort and sacrifice, forgotten. A more optimistic man might've called it resilience, a sign of Japan's ability to recover from any catastrophe. A less sanguine but still confident person might've called it an attempt to cover up a wound, a willful turning away of the eyes onto other things. Izuku only felt a hollowness. He remembered the raspy voice of the man with disembodied hands: Bunch of filthy ingrates.

"Izuku? You there? We're heading back to the dorms."

Iida stood over his desk, Ochako next to him. The sunset glowed outside the window. The classroom was nearly empty. The bell must've rung a while ago.

"I'm heading down to the development studio."

"Don't overexert yourself," Iida said, but he couldn't disguise the relief, like a sigh, in his voice. Ochako, too, gave a smile that was too quick to be polite.

It was the subtle things, Izuku thought, that told you the world had changed. Patched-up windows of a shop you used to walk by. Parents telling their children to come home earlier. For the first time in decades, crime was on the upswing.

His classmates said nothing openly, and he appreciated their kindness in trying to hide it, but small signs had revealed the wall that now separated them. He felt like he was back in middle school. But it hurt more to be shunned by those he had once been friends with than bullies. Conversations paused when he stepped into the classroom each morning. Over-politeness whenever someone spoke to him. Being left out of certain insignificant activities like eating together in the cafeteria or swimming in the pool. Even when they showed off their dorm rooms, his room, covered in All Might collectables, had drawn looks of guilt and nervous laughter, and the class had hurriedly moved on to the next one.

His capture had isolated him. Barely a day went by that he didn't catch the tail-end of some student whispering rumors. I heard they tortured him. I heard they tried to steal his Quirk. Nah, they wiped his memory and now he's like a vegetable. Despite the efforts of those who were present that night – even Bakugou, screaming irately at a group of General Education students, I never got captured, you idiots! – the rumors grew. His friends in 1-A were not immune. They were as curious as the rest, like zookeepers enclosing an exotic animal. Some dropped subtle hints and some not so subtle that they wanted to know what really happened that night. None of them understood why he remained silent. His refusal hurt them, but telling them would hurt them more.

It was not their fault. Had Izuku returned with the same fervor he always displayed, the same faith, he had no doubt the class would've welcomed him with open arms, rumors be damned. But he had changed. He spoke less. He no longer offered to help others with their homework. In the evening he stayed in his room or headed down to the training grounds, turning down offers to hang out, and that no doubt was part of the reason why few people offered any more. What was solid was now fluid. What was once unbreakable was brittle. If he could wipe his memory of that night, would he? If he could return to the same person he always was? Before, he would've said yes.

He heard the development studio before he saw it. Mei had been especially energetic the last few days, dead-set on finally getting that jetsuit working, and the booms, cranks, thuds, formed a melody as he opened the door and was immediately assaulted by the smell of oil and smoke.

"You're late! Get to work on those turbines. I changed the blueprints again."

He set down his bags by the door. Power Loader wasn't here today. He had been waiting for such an opportunity – rather, he had been putting it off with that excuse.

"Is something wrong?"

Mei! The oil smudge on her chin, the concerned look in her cross-eyes, those strange goggles hiding even stranger hair. Her enthusiasm bordered on insanity. Izuku secretly suspected the reason why so many machines exploded in her presence was because she carried so much electricity. Was there a more intelligent, enthusiastic, purer, single-minded girl in the world? His heart swelled with gratitude. If one person deserved happiness, deserved success, deserved her name to become a household word, it was her.

"I have something to tell you."

Mei put aside her tools and sat down, her expression sober.

I could be ruining myself, Izuku thought. A suicide as fatal as any bullet. He was entrusting his heart to her, and she could do with it as she pleased. Embrace it, ignore it, throw it to the dogs – did she realize the power she would have over him? Did she even want it? No doubt he was being unfair. He had been planning it for a long time, he reflected, recently accelerated by his meeting with the man on the television. The world would not wait for him to be ready. The man's prophecies would come to pass. Izuku's only salvation lay in facing that future on his own terms.

"I don't have a Quirk," Izuku said. The words came out so easily. "I've never had a Quirk. I lied about having one in order to get into UA. I don't have the ability to slow down time or plan ahead or anything like that. I'm just a Quirkless boy with a few support items."

Mei cocked her head.

"You're trying to get out of work again, aren't you?"
"What? No – "

"Well, it won't work on me!" Mei's eyes sparkled devilishly. "Just because you don't have a Quirk doesn't mean I'm going to give you a pass on those hours you owe me! All six hundred and forty-two of them. Six hundred and ninety-eight now, actually, after my heroic rescue. And don't think I won't work you just as hard as before. You don't need a Quirk to tighten a few screws."

"I'm serious – "

"So am I," Mei said, stamping her foot. "So what if you don't have a Quirk? Does that change you somehow? Are you no longer the Izuku I know? If you ask me, not having a Quirk just makes everything you did more impressive. You're not secretly bragging, are you? Scoring the highest score on the entrance exam, the sports festival, capturing Stain – look at me! I did it without a Quirk! Well, let me tell you, my Quirk hasn't done much for me either, you know? Anybody can do what I can do with a pair of binoculars! Who cares if you don't have a Quirk? Support items are much better anyway."

Mei! He wanted to cry and he did. After several seconds, Mei awkwardly put a hand on his shoulder, leaving a trail of engine grease. She looked miserable, probably cursing whatever stupid thing she had said to make him cry. She had never been good with people. If Izuku were a machine she could fix him right away. But there was nothing wrong with him.

"Thanks," he said, wiping away his tears. "Let's get to work."

Relief washed over her face. She punched him on the arm. "Look at you, making a girl worry." He laughed, the tears threatening to come out again, and she smiled, and he realized how silly he had been, how stupid, he of all people, not giving Mei enough credit! Because among the many expressions that had paraded across her face – solemnity, anger, frustration, fear, relief – there was one emotion missing.

She wasn't surprised.

"Let's get to work," Izuku repeated. "Let's get to work."

He could do it forever.

A/N: This marks the end of Argumentum Ad Absurdum. 35k words! It took eighteen weeks, and I'm pleasantly surprised I managed to uphold my schedule of releasing weekly. I purposely left the story open-ended, which I understand can disappoint some people, but I felt this was a natural place to stop. In canon, the plot slows to a crawl after this point (I haven't even caught up on the latest chapters), and I don't feel comfortable building on something that hasn't been expanded in canon. I hope you all enjoyed reading, and special thanks to everyone who left reviews!