Chapter 13: Ikiji Kokotsu
"Stop that thieving brat!"
The small boy, emaciated and scrawny, pushed his way through a sea of turned heads and condescending glares as he made his grand escape with his prize in hand: a small bag of rice. This particular outdoor bazaar was a favorite haunt of his—easy to slip into and easy to slip out of, regardless if he was caught in the act of stealing or not.
But that didn't make the stares and whispers anymore tolerable. Oh, no one ever dared to stop him, but he absolutely abhorred being looked down upon by others just because they were so much better off than he was. So beneath them he was, not worthy of intervention or the slightest bit of compassion or, worse than that, pity. He would take pity over this any day of the week.
But no, they never gave him pity. Just their contempt, without malice. The one thing the masses gave freely and it was the one thing he didn't even want, let alone ask for. No, they never gave him anything. All he knew in life was loss, so it only made perfect sense to the boy that the things he needed and wanted—those things had to be taken.
There can be no winners without losers. One cannot be rewarded with gain without another having loss inflicted upon them. And he, a boy with naught but a name and the rags on his back, was tired of losing throughout his life.
As he darted through throngs of shoppers, the boy made sure to scarf down the rice as quickly as possible. He always made sure to eat as soon as he stole, lest he lose his prize as well, especially if he were to be caught and beaten. He could at least fight back against angry vendors, but hunger? Starvation was not an enemy he could punch into submission.
Slipping through mounds of garbage in an alleyway, the boy stopped for a brief respite once he was sure the vendor he'd pilfered from this time had either lost him or was no longer giving chase. He never rested for too long—the sky still shone with sunlight, and so long as the sun hung in the sky, there was time for him to steal—to gain.
Tossing the empty rice bag into the nearest garbage heap, the boy peered out across the nearest string of shops, his eyes vigilantly looking out for his next target. He soon found it: perusing through a roughshod vegetable stand was a man wearing an odd assortment of brown and golden vestments—obviously a man possessing wealth, wealth that would soon be his for the taking.
Closing the distance with his target, even through crowds of shoppers, was easy enough. Slipping his fingers into the man's pocket and swiftly pulling out the first object he had come to grasp was even easier—pickpocketing was a science he had long mastered.
Snickering at the ease of his crime, the boy slunk back to the alleyway he had first emerged from to inspect his prize.
What the heck is this? He thought as he scrutinized the object—a double-looped ring of some kind. Its luster was extremely poor and the inscriptions engraved on it were nearly unreadable. Bah! This catch was worthless! He wouldn't be able to barter this piece of junk for any food!
No matter, The boy thought as he pocketed the ring. I'll just double back around and see what else I can take from him—oh, no.
The boy was scanning the crowd for the man he had just stolen from only to find the face of said man staring intently right at him. He had been found out, and his pickpocket victim began rushing through the crowd straight toward him.
"Shit!" The boy swore as he bolted back down the alley, looking back in horror as his pursuer effortlessly leapedover the swarm of shoppers, landing steady on his feet and barreling straight towards him.
Turning back to focus on running away, the boy's feet suddenly connected with some debris in his path and he collapsed to a painful halt. As he picked himself up, a harsh hand gripped him by the shoulder.
"You've nowhere to run," The man he'd stolen from said sternly. "Now return what you've stolen."
"Let...me...go!" The boy angrily cried out as he swiped at him with his hand, instinctively activating his Quirk. The man swiftly jumped backward, eyeing the boy in surprise. The groaning boy picked himself up and was now clutching his bleeding, scarred hand. It happened every time he used his accursed Quirk.
"Damn you..." The boy said with a pained groan. "Now I have to steal medicine before the day is done..."
"Wait—" The man said, but the young thief would have none of it.
He took off again, this time using the debris to his advantage as he knocked over whatever he passed and kicked up as much dirt as possible. Emerging on the other side of the alley, the boy instead stuck to the side of road instead of diving into the crowd of people. Following the road until he reached a drain opening, the boy hurriedly squeezed his way into the sewer drain just as his pursuer reached down for him, grasping him by the scruff of his neck.
"No!" The boy cried out, knowing he'd have to activate his Quirk again to get away. And activate it he did, howling in anguish as his chaser released him with a surprised gasp. Now his neck was bleeding as well as his hand, and he cursed the golden robed man as he squeezed his scrawny body down the pipe and into the dampened cistern, limping his way back to his safe haven.
Rain—or just the sound of dripping water—was always soothing to him. It was why he enjoyed sleeping beneath bridges. The water that dripped down and collected, or the current that flowed right on by—it never failed to calm his nerves. He would need that, as he emerged from a drain pipe and sloshed his way through the runoff to his encampment of rusted bins reinforced with cardboard and newspaper.
The blood had long stopped flowing, but the protrusions on his neck and hand had yet to retreat, which only served to draw out his torment. He was unable to secure any medical supplies before night fell; he would have to settle for ripping off pieces of what little clothing he wore and wrapped it around his injured skin.
Settling in for the night, the boy mentally went over his winnings for the day, all of which he'd quickly eaten: a couple of potatoes, some unidentifiable greens, and a bag of rice. Not a great haul, but not a bad one either.
Oh yeah, The boy thought as he fumbled with the weird ring he'd nabbed from the robed gentleman. Then there's this.
He was still sour over that. On top of taking an object of seemingly worthless value, that man had given chase and forced him to use his Quirk twice on top of that. But if the man gave chase, then that had to mean this ring-like object held some kind of value, right? Maybe it would be useful for bartering, after all...
No matter. He would dwell on that tomorrow, after some well deserved rest. He nestled underneath some ratty blankets and closed his eyes, focusing on the methodical dripping of water. Only it was pretty hard to focus when a bright red light was illuminating your face.
The boy jumped to his feet as a vortex of bright red sparks opened before him and the man he'd stolen from casually walked through, staring him down. Before he could turn tail and run toward the drain pipe, the fire from the portal encircled around his fingers and he launched it, ensnaring the boy's legs in some kind of flaming whip.
"Unfortunately for you," The man said as he knelt down beside the boy. "I don't require a Sling Ring to open a portal."
A Sling Ring? So that's what he'd stolen. But why would it be required...?
The boy yelled out in defiance as the man roughly searched his pockets until he'd retrieved back his 'Sling Ring'. He panted and rubbed watery muck out of his wild, white hair as he noticed the man was still looking down at him, seemingly still unsatisfied.
"What more do you want!?" The boy screamed as he huddled, bringing his knees to his chin as he glared up at the man. "You got back your stupid ring, now leave me alone!"
The man did not budge.
"A-are you going to beat me? Kill me?" The boy gave an empty laugh. "Go ahead and take my life. It's all I have left to lose..."
"Where are your parents, child?" The wizened man asked as his demeanor calmed remarkably.
"...What parents?" The boy spat after a moment of silence. "I've been alone out here for as long as I can remember."
"You are injured," The man said softly, motioning to the boy's hand and neck.
"My Quirk does that whenever I use it," The boy responded, showing the man the bloodstained protrusions still jutting through his skin. "My Quirk...is Bone Spurs. I can manipulate the bones in my body, but...you see what happens when I do."
The man said nothing but instead reached for something in his back pocket, causing the boy to flinch. "Relax," He said as he showed the boy a bundle of cloth. "I'm just applying some clean bandages for you."
The boy struggled slightly as the man removed his dingy wrappings and secured the clean bandages in place. He was not being openly defiant...he was just mostly confused. Why was this man helping him? He'd stolen from this man! The boy was expecting a beating, not...whatever this was.
"...Kaecilius," The man said as he secured the last bandage around the boy's neck.
"What?" The boy blinked in surprise.
"My name," The man—Kaecilius—replied. "Surely someone such as you, who has known nothing but loss, has not lost something as precious as their name?"
"...Ikiji," The boy replied cautiously. "Ikiji Kokotsu."
"It is a good name," Kaecilius nodded as he released his fiery bonds around the boy's legs, freeing him at last. "It is a name befitting one that displays the kind of strength you do, struggling from day to day."
"What do you care?" Ikiji spat maliciously, wrapping his arms around his legs as he watched Kaecilius carefully. Kaecilius, however, remained unperturbed by his asocial demeanor.
"I care because you have a strength in you, boy," Kaecilius said plainly. "And it would be a devastating waste for such strength to die in these alleys or beneath a bridge."
"I'm not going to die here—"
"Eventually you will," Kaecilius quickly interjected. "The next time someone you steal from finds you down here, it's very unlikely they'll offer you bandages."
"And what would you have me do about that?" Ikiji mumbled, his eyes softening in abject sorrow. "This place...is all I know. Whether I like it or not, this place is...home."
"It doesn't have to be," Kaecilius said.
"...What did you say?" Ikiji asked, startled.
"This 'home' is a place where all you've known is loss and pain," Kaecilius said. "The place that I once called home was very similar to me as well. But I soon found a place where I could try to find meaning in my pain and loss. That place is 'home' to me now. And if you'd like...it could be your home, too."
Ikiji was staring up at the man in amazement. A place to call home? A place to find meaning in all of his pain and loss? Ikiji shut his eyes and shook his head. "You don't have to lie, you know," Ikiji said, eliciting a frown from Kaecilius. "You don't have to make stuff up just to try and make me feel better."
"Ikiji, I assure you—"
"How could you even say that to me with a straight face!?" Ikiji exploded with indignant anger, glaring daggers at Kaecilius. "How could you look at my predicament, and at me—" He held up his scarred, bloodstained hands. "—and tell me that I could possibly have something better!?"
Kaecilius was still and silent as Ikiji laid bare the frustration and bitterness that had enraptured his heart so thoroughly.
"I don't want to hear any of that!" Ikiji shrieked. "I don't need you feeling sorry for me!"
Ikiji raised his shaky hand, struggling to keep his fingers curled as he pointed at Kaecilius accusingly. "I. Don't. Need. Your. Pity!"
Kaecilius abruptly stood up, shocking Ikiji and fearing that he'd lash out in anger. The wizened man instead swirled his fingers and opened a ring of fire around Ikiji, causing him to fall through the ground with a yell. He landed in the middle of a stone courtyard, looking around in shock at the sudden change in his surroundings.
"W-where am I!?" He demanded as Kaecilius jumped through the portal, closing it behind him as he stood before Ikiji.
"You seem like the kind of child that needs to see in order to believe," Kaecilius said. "And I do hope you put as much effort into learning magic as you do your anger."
"Magic...?" Ikiji asked, dumbfounded.
"Yes, magic," Kaecilius responded as a sea of curious faces emerged from the various buildings surrounding them. "Welcome to Kamar-Taj, Young Ikiji."
Ikiji was...dubious, to say the least, when he'd first arrived at Kamar-Taj. Kaecilius had promised him a way to search for meaning behind the pain and grief in his life, how would parlor tricks help him with such a task?
Oh, how little he knew, and how large his world—and mind—became over the course of a single day. After witnessing the feats of the Masters of the Mystic Arts, and learning of other dimensions and realms, he was begging the Masters to take him in.
The Masters—Master Strange in particular—seemed more than eager to take the young orphan under their wings. Master Strange viewed Ikiji's ruptured hands with sympathy, as he'd suffered from somewhat similar injuries in the past.
"Listen, Ikiji," Strange had pulled him aside to speak with. "When you complete your training, you'll not need to feel powerless in regards with your Quirk anymore. This, I promise you."
Ikiji was loathe to admit it, but he'd cried many times during the beginning of his stay at Kamar-Taj. To be so readily welcomed and offered help by so many people at once...the feelings of sympathy and compassion were foreign to the boy, and he was slow to understand them at first.
One thing he was not slow to understand, however, was magic.
He was praised, by masters and fellow students alike, as a prodigy for the Mystic Arts. It came so easy for him, gathering energy in his hands, watching the fires he conjured dance between his fingertips like tiny fireflies—some said it came to him far too easily, and Masters such as Master Wong and the Ancient One herself began training him less and less, much to his smoldering frustration.
He ascended the ranks seamlessly from Novice to Apprentice and then from Apprentice to Disciple, far quicker than any student in the history of Kamar-Taj as Strange and Kaecilius noted.
And as Ikiji ascended further and further above his peers, so too did his desire for knowledge ascend to new heights. Knowledge was an equivalent to power, after all, and it was only with power that he could hope to understand the meaning of all the loss he'd suffered in his life.
Why had his parents seemingly abandoned him? Why couldn't he remember them? Why was he supposedly destined to a life of poverty, struggle, and torment?
And the more knowledge and power Ikiji attained, the harder it became for the young boy to find any reasonable answers to his existential queries. And the harder he struggled, the harder it became to approach his fellow peers and his masters for help with these questions. The other trainees did not understand pain and grief like he did, and the only Master that he felt a semblance of kinship with was Master Kaecilius. Sure, Master Strange definitely knew pain—his hands were proof of that—but the man had not lived through pain like Ikiji had.
But Master Kaecilius was different. He was the only other man who was at Kamar-Taj for the same reason as Ikiji: to search for meaning in the loss inflicted throughout his life. Over time, Kaecilius had opened up to the boy about his own dejected past, about his son and wife whose lives were ripped away from him; lives that he was powerless to save.
Ikiji could see the similarities they shared: they both had lived lives marked with untimely suffering and pain, coupled with an inability to understand the meaning behind any of it. Their frustration only grew as their search for answers seemed impeded by the other Masters time and time again.
"You think the answers you seek lie within that ancient tome?" He recalled the Kamar-Taj librarian scolding him as he tried skimming through the Book of Cagliostro. "Such knowledge is forbidden to anyone beneath the Sorcerer Supreme herself."
But why? Ikiji thought to himself angrily as he paced back and forth across his barrack. Why would knowledge that he might need be deemed off limits? By what right did the Sorcerer Supreme and the other Masters have in keeping the answers he sought away from him!?
His frustration had reached a boiling point when he was approached one night by Master Kaecilius...along with a group of other trainees he'd recognized.
"Lucian? Adria?" Ikiji questioned two of the trainees when Kaecilius approached him slowly. "Master?"
"Do you remember what I offered you over two years ago, the day I brought you here, Ikiji?" Master Kaecilius asked quietly.
It would be hard for Ikiji to forget. "You told me...that this place would help me find meaning and truth in the suffering of my life. That it would help me find answers."
"And do you feel that you have found the truths and meaning you had sought out when I brought you to Kamar-Taj?" Kaecilius asked.
"...I haven't," Ikiji gulped and replied honestly.
"And if there were more that I could teach you...?" Kaecilius asked. "If there were answers we could retrieve—together—that others would seek to hide from us?"
Ikiji stared into his Master's imploring eyes with understanding as he nodded. "Then I would be eager to learn."
Time. People were so quick to think in terms of good and evil, but really, time is the true enemy that Ikiji faced. It is time that kills everything, it is time that inflicts loss, it is time that imparts suffering unto all.
It all made sense now. The answer he and Master Kaecilius had sought for so long, an answer to the suffering they could not wrap their minds around until now. To be subject to time is to be subject to death and the suffering and pain that follows it.
To transcend death—to rise above the waves of suffering that wash over the world each and every day—one must transcend time itself.
"And how will we accomplish such a feat, Master?" Ikiji asked hopefully.
"We will summon a timeless savior to our world, Ikiji," Kaecilius spoke resolutely to the boy and the rest of his fellow Zealots. "We will summon Dormammu and, with the help of a newfound ally of mine, merge our world with his Dark Dimension, a realm beyond time, where we will be gifted with life eternal!"
Ikiji could only grin at the prospect of life eternal in a world above time itself, and by merging their world with Dormammu's, it would ultimately save every person in the world from the horrific grip of death! Before the coming day was over, the very ideas of time, death, and suffering would be the thing of myths and legends.
And so into the library Ikiji, Kaecilius, and the rest of the Zealots snuck into, stringing up the Head Librarian that had denied them the answers they sought with their eldritch whips.
Without a word, Kaecilius reached behind him, pulling out his fabled Scythe Daggers—twin curved blades of magical might—and brandishing them before the Librarian. Kaecilius gave the man an amused look before slicing both blades toward his neck with accurate precision and power, severing his head clean off his shoulders.
As the man's head hit the floor, Ikiji gave his Master a stunned look as he turned to face him unapologetically. Ikiji hadn't been expecting such swift brutality.
"A noble first sacrifice for our worthy cause," Kaecilius spoke firmly, easing any concerns and doubts the rest of the Zealots might've been having.
Further down did the Zealots go, until they finally reached their destination: the Ancient One's personal collection of tomes, hooked and chained in place. Kaecilius unchained several of the books, stacking them on the nearest desk before pulling down the book they truly sought: the Book of Cagliostro. Kaecilius mindlessly skimmed through page after page until the sketch of a certain symbol caught his eye.
"Gather around, my students," Kaecilius said as he set the book down, displaying the ritual for all there to see. "For with this spell we invite immortality into our realm."
In a circle the Zealots gathered, their hands in the proper positions to begin invoking Dormammu as they began the incantations listed in the Book of Cagliostro.
Some of the other Zealots seemed doubtful, weary, fearful even, but not Ikiji. As he recited the incantations, he thought back to how Kaecilius had introduced him to this world in the first place, how it was because of him that he could gain the power and knowledge he so desired, and now, standing alongside his Master, they could free themselves—the world—from the pain of time and its shadow of death.
He would place his complete and utter faith in Master Kaecilius. He was ultimately the only one he could rely on for answers, not the Ancient One, not Wong, not even Strange.
Ikiji winced as he felt the symbol of Dormammu burn into his forehead upon contact with the entity. It was small, fleeting, but it was enough. He could feel what power could be imparted into him through Earth's mystical defenses flowing into his body. But the power of the Sanctums kept the immense bulk of Dormammu's power—and the promise of a timeless eternity—at bay.
As the Zealots each inspected themselves and each other over the changes the ritual had bestowed upon them, it had become startlingly clear what had to be done in order to complete the pact with Dormammu: they had to tear each of the Sanctums down in order for the Dark Dimension to merge fully with their world.
And they would've set out to accomplish this feat posthaste had the Ancient One and the Masters of the Mystic Arts not burst into the library right as the ritual ended, their magic and spells blazing with infuriated furor.
With a pained groan, Ikiji forced a piece of rubble off his head, his mind swirling in disorientation as he struggled to regain his senses. He thought he could make out the form of his Master in the distance, but..he couldn't be sure.
Ikiji stood up but quickly crouched back down as thick smoke smacked against his lips and nostrils, burning at his already irritated eyes. He coughed as he crawled his way through the debris of what remained of the library, using his hands to feel his way to safety.
His hands grasped what felt like a singed tunic, prompting Ikiji to tug on the person he'd somehow latched on to.
"H-hey!" Ikiji cried out as his eyes slowly regained focus. "Get up, we have to—!"
His heart sank into depths of pain he'd dreamed of escaping for so long. "L-Lucian!" Ikiji tugged on the body of his fellow student, but to no avail. There was neither breath nor life to be found anywhere on Lucian's stunned, quiet face.
"No, no, no..." Ikiji whimpered as he saw Adria's body nearby, her once flowing hair and fair skin rent asunder by flame and debris. "T-this can't be happening...!"
Glancing around wildly as his eyesight returned to him, Ikiji could only yell out in anguish as he was surrounded by the corpses of his fellow practitioners, crushed under red hot rock or scorched by eldritch magic.
Why!? Ikiji thought dejectedly as he sobbed over his allies' bodies. All we wanted was to be rid of the suffering of this world!
He looked across the barren room, through the pungent fog as he caught sight of his Master valiantly resisting the combined onslaught of Strange, Wong, and Clea. The Ancient One was nowhere in sight. His brows furrowed in unkempt anger and rage.
What was so wrong with that, that you had to kill us all!?
"Ikiji!" The voice of his Master rang out across the room, snapping the boy out of his rage. "You must flee from here!"
"No, Master!" Ikiji yelled back, trying to crawl his way over to him through the fiery ruins. "I won't leave you to die...! We were supposed to escape our pain together!"
"Promise after promise has been made to you, but so far every single one has been irreparably broken," Kaecilius mused as the Masters he faced down combined their magic into a flaming vortex that was beginning to suck Kaecilius into its swirling embrace. "I hope you will forgive this old man who disappointed you so, Ikiji."
Kaecilius bowled over as he swirled his fingers beneath him in a tight circle, resisting the pull of the vortex just a little while longer. Ikiji flinched as a fledgling portal opened up above him, and three objects fell through into his hands: Kaecilius's Sling Ring and his twin Scythe Daggers.
"You must run, Ikiji," Kaecilius reiterated as he looked down at his student through the portal apologetically.
"But you're the one who led me this far!" Ikiji cried out tearfully. "How can I go on without your guidance!?"
"You will survive this!" Kaecilius yelled. "You're a survivor, Ikiji Kokotsu! You will survive this and gain guidance from another!"
Ikiji slipped the Sling Ring on his appropriate fingers and tearfully looked back up at his Master one last time before turning to flee.
"You must find the ally I spoke of earlier!" Kaecilius yelled as the vortex's strength proved too powerful, pulling him into its molten core. "You must find the man...called All For One!"
Ikiji woke up with a start, panting wildly as the nightmare soon passed into memory. He grasped the arm of the chair he had drifted to sleep in, keeping himself grounded and sure of his surroundings as his pulsing heart stilled and the adrenaline faded.
With a quick glance, he confirmed his location: he was still in the hovel that he, Shigaraki, and Kurogiri had appropriated for their upcoming operation. He heard a series of clinking noises coming from downstairs: undoubtedly Kurogiri, early bird that he is.
"You must find the man...called All For One!"
Ikiji shook his head, desperately trying to shake the nightmarish memory from the front of his mind. Over five years had passed since that day, and with the help and shelter of his Master's old ally, he finally felt ready to move against the Masters of the Mystic Arts.
The symbol of Dormammu, displayed proudly on his forehead, burned fervently as if in anticipation as the door into his room was knocked on and then summarily kicked open. Clad in his usual dark hoodie, Shigaraki strolled in and gave a strained smile to Ikiji with those appallingly cracked lips of his.
"Rise and shine, Player One," Shigaraki sneered. "Today's the big day."
Chapter 14: Izuku vs Ikiji
"This is it?" Shigaraki asked in a tone that could be taken as either incredulous or insulted.
Ikiji looked over to his left and gave his impulsive comrade a passive stare as they grouped together for their assault. Kurogiri flanked Ikiji's right, and they had all donned blackened cloaks to somewhat mask their appearances and to avoid drawing attention to themselves.
Kurogiri because he valued anonymity and he was unwilling to draw curious eyes with his anomalous mist-like body. Ikiji because they couldn't risk any practitioners from Kamar-Taj recognizing him if any were stalking the streets of Kathmandu, which Ikiji knew they were frequent in doing. Shigaraki...well, he only ever wore a cloak to conceal himself whenever he was denied the embrace of Father, an order he was loathe to comply with, even if it had come directly from his precious 'Sensei'.
All three villains stood together, huddled close across the street from the door that gave entrance into Kamar-Taj. It was a dingy wooden door—more like a slightly sturdier plank bolted in place—and the building that it accompanied looked impossibly unimpressive, as squalid and unkempt as any other hovel within the confines of this Himalayan city. It was small, crammed in between two larger residences that seemed to crush it from both sides.
"I thought you said this place was a compound," Shigaraki hissed, his fingers twitching in agitation. Whether he was going to attack his neck, or a comrade, Ikiji was unsure. "This is just a hovel as nondescript as any other in this dump."
"It is a compound," Ikiji reaffirmed. "And make no mistake: that door is the entrance into Kamar-Taj."
"I assume the size discrepancy is the result of their...magic?" Kurogiri added to the conversation, his hesitancy at the end of his statement showing how even he, after all his time spent with Ikiji, could not fully wrap his mind around the very concept.
"Correct," Ikiji nodded. "The Masters of the Mystic Arts conceal themselves well wherever they go, and their compound and Sanctums are no different. What you see before you is merely an illusion, one designed to fool the ignorant passerby and the purposeful seeker alike. One does not comprehend the sheer size of Kamar-Taj until they have already entered its halls."
Ikiji leveled his glare directly at the door, recalling its interior and layout, it's winding stone corridors and passageways, its meditation rooms, burning with the stench of incense, and its expansive library, packed to the brim with the knowledge he had starved of for too many years now.
"Under normal circumstances, one does not simply enterKamar-Taj," Ikiji continued. "They must be invited in, either from the inside, or by accompanying a Master."
"Well then," Shigaraki's hideously cracked lips twisted into his trademark ghoulish grin. "We'll just have to invite ourselves in, I suppose."
"Shigaraki," Kurogiri said warningly. "Have you already forgotten the plan Sensei and Ikiji laid out? The moment you play your role, you will be whisked back to the bar to await our return."
"Sensei's orders, I know," Shigaraki growled in annoyance, his fingers twitching more erratically now.
"If the door were to be forcibly opened, any intruders would be faced with the illusion of a barren hovel, denying them access to the compound within," Ikiji explained. "This is because of a magical seal laced over the other side of the door that protects Kamar-Taj—the Seal of the Vishanti."
"But there are ways to get around this Seal, as you have explained, correct?" Kurogiri inquired for affirmation.
"That is where Shigaraki comes in," Ikiji replied. "He will dissolve the door from the center just enough to expose the Seal. With my spatial magic, I can disrupt the seal just long enough for you to enter before the illusion is activated. Once you are inside..."
"Chaos reigns," Shigaraki finished Ikiji's statement, reveling in the thought of how much disarray and panic will be sown with the attack. The confusion as Kurogiri warped Ikiji and their waiting allies in from as many points as possible. How annoying, he thought, that he would not be allowed to contribute to the carnage directly, that he would be denied the sweet sensation of crumbling flesh falling between his calloused fingers.
"Make sure you warp me in first, Kurogiri," Ikiji turned to face the Black Fog, ensuring the mist man was nodding in confirmation. "Warp the rest of your allies in after, and avoid battle until I make my way to the library."
"All this meticulous planning just to check out a book," Shigaraki said with a grunt. "And I'm being forced into NPC status for this quest. This book better be worth it."
"This is all necessary for my plans, as well as the League's," Ikiji whirled on Shigaraki. "Or do you object to using what power is available to grant a semblance of new strength unto your Sensei?"
Shigaraki glowered at Ikiji, his fingers flexing and tingling in a mad dance of depraved digits, before he suddenly lunged. Not toward Ikiji, but rather, the door into Kamar-Taj, slapping his hand onto the center of the wooden surface is it crumbled without hesitation. Kurogiri's fog roared to life as it circled Shigaraki, ready to whisk him away to safety now that everything was being put into motion.
"Return me home then, Kurogiri," Shigaraki called out as Ikiji took a stance, the space around his hands rippling unnaturally as he prepared to pierce through the Seal. "I can't stand being around this Player One any longer."
When the first shockwave rumbled through his barrack, Izuku didn't think much of it. He'd figured Rintrah—hulking behemoth of a fighter that he is—was merely giving it his all in training. That, or he'd triggered another landslide again outside the city while training in the mountains, which sparked Izuku's worry just a tad. Figuring it was ultimately nothing to get too worked up over, Izuku settled back on his wool sheeted bed, intent on resting before his training for the day.
It wasn't until a second, stronger, closer shockwave quite literally lurched him off his bed that he knew something was wrong.
Izuku face planted onto the stone floor as he flailed off the bed, picking himself up with a groan as he rubbed his sore nose and cheeks.
A chorus of panicked screams made Izuku perk right up, a flash of fear jolting down his spine. The entire barrack rumbled a third time, bits of dust and debris sprinkling down from the ceiling and onto his messy green hair as it groaned and shook. Izuku glanced out his sole window as he brushed the dirt off of him, a cloud of acrid smoke obstructing the morning light and his view.
What on Earth is going on!? Izuku thought as he rushed out of his barrack and down the long, dark, stone corridor without another thought. Approaching the door to the outer courtyard, Izuku could definitely hear a cacophony of whooping, yelling, the loud crashing of bodies, and the fiery whizzing of magic flinging through the air.
Izuku pushed the large door open as quickly as he could with all of his bodily weight. Forcing himself out into the courtyard, Izuku yelped and darted behind the nearest stone pillar as a burning substance landed right next to his feet. Izuku sweated in a panic as he glanced down to see what had nearly struck him, and he paled as he saw a flaming acidic blob burning through the stone tile.
Izuku peered out from behind the pillar; the courtyard was being overrun by nearly a dozen unruly figures whom he didn't recognize in the slightest. Many of his fellow practitioners were engaging the strangers in the courtyard, beneath the shade of the walkways, and Izuku could even see duels raging through the windows of the upper floors as well. Izuku caught sight of a sadistically grinning man covered in tattoos waving his arms around as his body pumped noxious smoke through the crowded courtyard. Only Rintrah, his bulky sparring partner, stood tall above the all-consuming smoke in the courtyard's center.
W-we're being invaded! Izuku realized with a pallor of dread washing over his face. Kamar-Taj is under attack!
Just then, a swirling black mass opened in the air in front of the boys' barracks and six people came pouring through the dark void before it dissipated back into nothingness.
S-someone is warping people in!? Izuku thought as he observed the new throng of people splitting up, three rampaging into the barracks and the other three bulldozing towards Rintrah. I've never seen a portal like that! Was that caused by magic...or from a Quirk?
"Aw, no need to be shy, little boy!" A deep voice drawled from behind Izuku, and before the boy could whirl around, his entire body was ensnared by slinking, constricting limbs that yanked him into the air. Izuku yelled out in pain as his assailant, a wide-eyed balding man with a horribly crooked smile, tightened his elongated arms around Izuku's body, crushing the breath right out of him. "I promise to make this quick!"
C-crap! Izuku tried moving his arms to conjure some magic—any magic—to help him, but they were firmly clamped shut within his attacker's coiling embrace. Another constricting squeeze made Izuku yell out, his pained shrieks drowned out by the crescendo of chaos unfolding all around him.
"Izuku!" A voice sounded out from the encroaching smoke, garnering the attention of both the boy and his attacker. From out of the fog, a bright glow emerged, followed by a long wooden object snaking out and wrapping around the constrictor's neck.
"W-what the hell—!?" The constrictor choked out as the luminous object tightened around his larynx, forcing him to release Izuku as he struggled to regain his own breath. Izuku plopped to the ground on his hands and knees, taking in deep breaths as he rubbed his pained abdomen.
"Away with you!" Jack Holyoak leaped out of the fog with the extended Staff of the Living Tribunal already wrapped thoroughly around the thug's throat, its glowing segments churning out smoke itself as it burned into the man's exposed neck. With a roar, Jack lifted the man into the air with his end of the Staff and sent him crashing into the ground, the glowing segments erupting in a fierce burst of energy as Jack released all the magic he'd stored within its links. The constrictor wheezed out a puff of smoke and fell limp as he fell into unconsciousness.
"J-Jack!" Izuku sounded out with cough, Jack standing over him defensively as he caught his breath and shakily returned to his feet. "Thank you..."
"Don't thank me yet!" Jack yelled as the floor above erupted in a torrent of flames, debris from stone and wood alike raining down on them like tiny meteors. Izuku jumped to Jack's side, erecting a mandala shield to deflect the flaming rubble and the waves of heat undulating from the top of the building.
"Where is Master Strange!?" Izuku yelled out as the raining debris trickled to a halt, prompting him to lower his defenses for the moment.
"...He's not here," Jack said morosely after a second of silence. "It makes me wonder if this attack was purposely coordinated around his absence."
A flash of realization struck Izuku as he buried his hands in his pockets, desperately digging around until he pulled out a card. "I-I can summon him with this!"
"You can what!?" Jack yelled out, his strained face threatening to erupt into a grin.
"Y-yeah!" Izuku nodded. "Master Strange gave me this card months ago, and I can use it to summon him if I were to ever find myself in danger!"
Wasting no further time, Izuku flipped the card over to the side displaying Strange's Sanctum Seal, circling his thumb clockwise around the seal as he'd been instructed to do and waited for...nothing to happen. No portal opened up beside him as Izuku was expecting and there was no Sorcerer Supreme in sight to right the chaos being strewn about. Izuku's heart sank, as did Jack's hopeful face.
"T-this doesn't mean anything!" Izuku cried out to Jack, gripping his shoulder. "He's on his way, I just know it! We just have to hold out long enough for him to reach us in time!"
"Then I'll go make sure the barracks are clear—" Jack began before a deep bellow echoed throughout the courtyard, followed by a deafening crash within the plume of smoke. Jack and Izuku looked over to see that the towering form of their bullheaded comrade was nowhere to be seen. The Mighty Rintrah had somehow been toppled.
"Rintrah!" Both boys yelled out together as they rushed through the smoke, using Rintrah's rumbling groans to pinpoint his position. Izuku nearly gagged as they ran through the fumes; they weren't suffocating by any means, by they sure were noxious and putrid.
Approaching Rintrah's downed body, Izuku spotted three villains keeping their comrade restrained. One was a masked man whose fingers took on the shape of thick ropes, and he had used these to ensnare Rintrah's arms. The second villain was a loosely dressed woman with snakes for hair, and the dozens of tiny serpentine threads were wrapped around Rintrah's neck and biting into his face. The third villain was a portly man with a glue-like body, his viscous form firmly sticking Rintrah's legs to the ground.
"Get away from our friend!" Izuku roared as his magic flared to life in his hand. Jack similarly had his Staff blazing once again with energy as they charged the villains keeping Rintrah subdued.
Izuku leaped atop Rintrah's body, magic mandala blazing in his hand as he brought it down above the female villain's scalp, severing all the snake-headed tendrils with a swift slicing motion. The woman shrieked in pain, clutching at the bleeding serpentine stumps on her head as she fled into the smoke.
Jack launched his Staff forward the rope finger villain, the glowing links extending as they caught all the rope-like appendages and burned them away with a sizzling snap, causing the masked man to leap back and shout profanities at Jack.
The glue body villain, his sludgy eyes widening at the sudden assault by the two boys, suddenly found himself hanging on for dear life as the green furred bull he had just helped bring down after a long struggle slowly but surely got back up on his two massive cloven feet.
"Guh, no hard feelings pal?" The goopy man gurgled out, earning a hard stare from the bull before being flung high into the sky and out of the compound with a rough kick by Rintrah, who stomped his feet several more times to rid his fur of the mucilaginous residue that was left behind.
"Rintrah, you okay buddy?" Jack asked as he inspected the wounds littered across the bull's body by the villains. Blood oozed from his face and arms, staining his green fur somewhat red, but Rintrah snorted defiantly, peering through the smoke with squinted eyes.
"Rintrah is fine," Rintrah bellowed before patting both Izuku and Jack on their shoulders. "Rintrah is thankful."
The pat snapped Izuku out his thoughts as he was stuck thinking about the show of force he'd displayed against the snake-haired woman, whose shrieks of pain startled him out of his anger. "Yeah! N-no problem!"
"Smoke is bothersome," Rintrah flared his nostrils and exhaled, momentarily displacing the smelly gas before it quickly filled back in the space around his nose.
"I have a solution for that," Jack said as he looked over at Rintrah. "You think you got enough energy in you for thatspell?"
Seeing Rintrah nod in confirmation, Jack turned to Izuku, who appeared confused. "Stay behind us, Izuku!"
Jack and Rintrah stepped forward and, side by side, made identical hand motions and incantations as a vortex of energy whirled to life in their hands all at once.
"Winds of Watoomb, build and swell, and swirl at our command...!"
Together, Rintrah and Jack extended their opened palms forward, the magic gathered in their hands thrusting forward in the form of a huge gale of turbulent energy that seemed to latch onto the rancid smoke and carry it high into the sky, clearing the courtyard in an instant.
Izuku crossed his arms over his eyes to shield himself from the roaring wind, but as he cracked his eyes back open he was stunned to see the courtyard clear of any obstruction. Every intruder and ally could clearly be seen now, and Izuku saw the tattooed man who was spawning the smoke with his Quirk gritting his teeth in frustration as new wisps of the fetid fog began rolling off his body. The fighting had only halted for a moment as villains and disciples alike collected their bearings before clashing against one another once more, though the tide of battle in the courtyard seemed to swing firmly on the side of the sorcerers.
"Smoke Man is mine," Rintrah snorted angrily as he prepped for a charge.
"Hold on, Rintrah!" Jack hollered, grasping his friend by the arm. "Before we go charging back into battle, we need to know where the Masters are!"
"Masters Minoru and Hamir went toward the entrance," Rintrah said, his fury and desire to jump back into the thick of it barely being constrained. "Master Wong went toward the library. Rintrah knows not where the other Masters are."
"Izuku, head to the library behind us and inform Master Wong of the situation out here," Jack ordered while keeping his focus on what was ahead of him.
"What!?" Izuku cried out in protest. "I can't just leave you both out here to fight for yourselves! I can fight—!"
"Don't get me wrong!" Jack yelled, stifling Izuku's protests. "You are...undoubtedly strong, Izuku. I can see the potential that Master Strange sees in you. But you still have a long way to go. If helping us is what you want to do, then help us by helping Master Wong secure the library and not letting any of these villains get to the tomes inside!"
Izuku trembled at the thought of any of the magical books escaping the confines of Kamar-Taj or being stolen away like the one he had taken nearly a whole year ago out of Strange's Sanctum. He had taken that book out of ignorance, but if any of these villains were to take one with their malicious intent...Izuku didn't even want to think about the repercussions.
Filled with renewed determination, Izuku nodded and bolted for the library as Jack twirled his Staff between his fingers and Rintrah readied his charge.
"You called dibs on Smokey, right?" Jack said with a grin. Receiving a snort for verification, Jack grinned. "Shall we, then?" Both practitioners charged headfirst into the throng of villains with a fierce battle cry, rallying their comrades together against the hapless invading thugs.
"You're on the wrong side of history, Master Wong," Ikiji spoke as he slowly approached one of his old teachers who stood in his path. Wong took a defensive stance before Ikiji, blocking his way toward the forbidden tomes of Strange's collection.
"The gall of you to return here, Ikiji," Wong uttered vehemently. "I always knew Strange made a mistake by untethering you instead of killing you all those years ago!"
"You cannot halt the march of progress," Ikiji said as he pressed his palms together, readying his attack."You can impede it...you can slow it, like you did us...but you cannot stop this. This is all inevitable."
"We will see about that," Wong spat as his fists burst with the bright energy of the Ruby Rings of Raggadorr.
Ikiji slid his hands apart, conjuring a translucent shard that shimmered and rippled the very space around it. Admiring his handiwork for little more than a moment, Ikiji raised his blade directly at Wong. "Such a shame that you will die before this world ascends to its rightful place."
"Heretic!" Wong yelled as he and Ikiji charged each other at once. Stout though he may be, Wong was swift and agile and could pack one hell of a punch. He crashed his Ruby Rings against Ikiji's Space Shard, resulting in a mystical impasse as Master and fallen Apprentice struggled against one another.
"I will not let you succeed...!" Wong rasped as he began pushing Ikiji back with his sheer bulk. "I know what you have come for! The Book of Cagliostro will not fall into the hands of a Zealot once more!"
"Very intuitive, Master Wong...!" Ikiji growled back, struggling against Wong's might as the tip of his Space Shard pressed against his rings but could not pierce them. "But as I said...this is all inevitable!"
Ikiji suddenly ceased his pushing and leaned far backwards, allowing the bulk of Wong's momentum to barrel over him. A swift knee to Wong's gut knocked the breath out of the portly man and he suddenly found himself thrown across the room before he could properly recover.
"Now Kurogiri!" Ikiji suddenly yelled out as Wong was dazed from the blow.
The space near the back of the room erupted in a back swirling mass, reforming into the vague shape of a human as it approached the forbidden shelf, perusing the books calmly before locating its target.
"The Book of Cagliostro," Kurogiri said as a foggy appendage reached out to undo the chains and take hold of the tome. "This will serve the League of Villains well."
"No...!" Wong cried out as he sent a fiery lash hurtling toward Kurogiri's body. The lash stopped just short, however, and Wong cried out in agony as Ikiji's Space Shard pierced into his right shoulder, prompting the man to fall to his knees as the Shard faded and lost its tangibility.
"Seems it went well," Kurogiri said, regaining his composure after nearly being entangled by flame. "Shall we depart posthaste?"
Ikiji, however, seemed none too rushed to leave. "You know, last time I was here this place was in ruins," Ikiji said, slowly stepping toward Wong. "Fire. Debris. Oh, and how could I forget the corpses strewn about?" He stared down at the writhing form of Wong and pressed his palms together, conjuring a second Space Shard to finish the deed. "I think that look suits this place." Ikiji raised the Shard, about to bring it down to end Wong's measly life—
"STOP!"
Ikiji ceased his attack and looked toward the stairs, perplexed at the voice that interrupted him. A green-haired boy, slightly younger than him from the looks of it, jumped down the stairs to confront him.
Announcing your presence with a desperate shout and jumping down to confront a man who just defeated a Master that bested him as quickly as he was bested by this stranger was probably not the best idea, but Izuku Midoriya would have been loath to simply stay hidden as one of his Masters was struck down.
The man—no, boy—who looked only slightly older than himself turned to face Izuku with a studious glance. Izuku was met with jagged white hair, a face full of freckles much like his own, and piercing, cracked eyes that made Izuku take a step back in intimidation. It was as if the skin around his eyes was a mere shell, and the silver cracks belied a violet monstrosity lurking just beneath its human host.
"A new face," The boy said with a slight chuckle. The black mist man—Izuku assumed he was the one ultimately responsible for warping the villains into the compound—stood silent as he observed this interaction. "The Masters of the Mystic Arts sure do like to get them young, don't they?"
"Step away from Master Wong!" Izuku yelled, trying his best to marshal his courage against what he knew to be a superior opponent.
The white-haired boy seemed none too keen to comply and instead pressed on with more questions. "With those red robes you must be an Apprentice, correct? You are very brave to stand against one who bested a Master before your very eyes. I would commend you if I knew your name."
"M-Midoriya," Izuku said with a blink of surprise. "Izuku Midoriya." He didn't really know why he was entertaining the questions of this villain, but if the other boy was not going to make an aggressive move against him, then he would be fine with that.
I just have to buy time until Master Strange returns...!
"Kokotsu," The boy said with a mocking bow. "Ikiji Kokotsu at your service."
"G-get away from Master Wong!" Izuku repeated a second time, sliding into a combat stance and steeling his nerves as best he could against such an eerily calm and calculating opponent.
Ikiji, however, seemed either unimpressed or unworried. Or perhaps both. "Cease your hostility, Izuku Midoriya. Your fighting will get you nowhere, and it certainly will not stop this."
"This? This?" Izuku said shakily, motioning toward the cacophony of fighting happening right outside and above their heads. "I don't even know what this is! What was the point of all this!?"
"This? This is the end, Izuku," Ikiji spoke. "And the beginning. The many becoming the few, becoming The One."
"...You're not making any sense," Izuku said, shakily maintaining his stance as he shot a look toward the black mist man in the back of the room, who seemed motionless and unwilling to intercede in any capacity.
"The One being the benevolent Dormammu, Izuku, the entity that will save this world from the time that enslaves it," Ikiji explained, causing Izuku to stand still in shock. The shock did not go unnoticed. "...You know who I speak of, don't you?"
"Dormammu," Izuku croaked. "I-I saw the rituals in the Book of Cagliostro. A realm beyond time. That is the Dark Dimension..."
"Very good, Izuku," Ikiji said with a pleased grin. "I am pleasantly surprised that revolutionary minds so similar to mine are still cultivated in such a stagnant place such as this."
"My mind is nothing like yours," Izuku said fiercely.
"No, Izuku, you are a spitting image of myself from just a few years ago," Ikiji rebuked. "Naive, willful, full of promise...and broken."
Izuku shook and looked down at his scarred hands, something that Ikiji picked up on as well, raising his own scarred hands for Izuku to see. "Sorcerers like Strange are people who like to collect broken things, Izuku. We are all led to Kamar-Taj with the promise of being healed, of being given renewed purpose, but all he and the other Masters have to offer us are parlor tricks and the joke that is their morality. They try to make us think in terms of good and evil, but time is the true enemy, time is what enslaves all who walk this Earth, time is the source of all our suffering and pain, time is an all-consuming insult that kills all that we hold dear!"
Izuku stepped back in the middle of Ikiji's rant as a lone tear cascaded down the zealot's cheek. He's crying, Izuku thought, stunned. H-he really believes what he's saying...
"Izuku," Ikiji continued. "I don't wish to rule or ruin this world, I wish to save it, to have this world join alongside so many others in the Dark Dimension, to be free of time and suffering and pain alike for all eternity as part of The One."
"You say time kills what we hold dear, but what about the people you killed!?" Izuku retorted, recalling all the carnage he saw just moments prior, how his friends were fighting for the very lives all throughout the compound. "What about the lives you've ruined in your so-called quest to save the world!?"
"All worthy sacrifices for my noble cause," Ikiji said with a callous smirk.
"You're insane," Izuku uttered, tightening his stance.
"You will eventually see things my way," Ikiji responded, extending an open hand toward Izuku. "Once you side with me."
There was a moment of silence that befell the room as Izuku studied Ikiji's open hand, an earnest invitation that he felt was sincere and honest.
Not that Izuku bought it for a single second.
Swirling his hand, Izuku opened a portal beneath Wong's crumpled form and let him fall through, away from the soon-to-be confrontation between him and Ikiji. The black misted figure tensed up, preparing to leave or enter the fray, Izuku wasn't sure.
"...Leave us, Kurogiri," Ikiji hissed dangerously as he glowered at Izuku. The black mist—Kurogiri, Izuku was sure to remember that name—nodded and disappeared in a dark swirl of his own bodily mass, vanishing with the Book of Cagliostro in tow. Izuku was none too pleased to see the forbidden tome whisked away by a villain...but he had bigger problems to worry about right now.
"If you will not help me rid the world of its pain," Ikiji said, sliding his palms together. "Then I will rid you of yours."
Both Apprentice and Zealot alike surged themselves with magic: Izuku summoned his shimmering mandalas over his fists and squared off against Ikiji who conjured his translucent Space Shard that rippled through space like an existential error.
Izuku took a defensive posture as Ikiji took the approach of a direct assault, battering the boy's mandalas repeatedly with his strange, rippling blade. It was a magic unlike any Izuku had ever seen before and it frightened him a great deal.
"Your mandalas will not repel my blade like Wong's Ruby Rings did!" Ikiji yelled as he gave a piercing thrust, nearly splitting Izuku's shield down the middle with the edge of his Space Shard.
Izuku gasped as the tip of Ikiji's blade stopped short mere inches from his face, and the energy that constituted his defenses began to fade as Ikiji destroyed them utterly. Thinking quickly, Izuku recalled what energy remained to his hands, coalescing it into the fiery whips he was familiar with. He swiftly wrapped the fiery lash around Ikiji's arm, locking his elbow so Ikiji could no longer flay him with his blade.
With his opponent all but disarmed for the time being, Izuku quickly capitalized with a few well-aimed punches to Ikiji's side, hitting flesh twice but striking something incredibly hard upon the third punch, causing him to recoil in pain. Ikiji yanked himself free of Izuku's sizzling bonds and he whirled in the air, bringing his blade up in a slicing motion to cleave Izuku in two.
Izuku recovered from his pain, however, and nimbly took advantage of Ikiji's spin by lashing him across the face with his flaming whip when he turned back around, knocking him to the floor. Izuku adopted his defensive posture yet again as Ikiji launched himself back up on his feet, showing Izuku the extent of the damage inflicted on him.
"Y-your face...!" Izuku exclaimed.
Latched onto Ikiji's cheek was a singed, bony plate that soon popped off his face and landed on the floor with a clatter, exposing perfectly unharmed skin where Izuku's lash had landed.
"Yes, that is the work of my Quirk: Bone Spurs," Ikiji said with a confident grin. "My training here at Kamar-Taj helped me hone the power of my Quirk as well as my magic. It is no longer the...debilitating curse on my body that it once was. So hit me with your strongest punch, land what paltry magic you possess against my indomitable body. You are little more than a paper tiger before a storm, Izuku."
I-I need backup! I can't beat him on my own! Izuku thought as he turned to escape up the stairs, sweat pouring down his forehead and back as the pallor of dread swept across his body. He didn't make it very far.
Ikiji waved his palms before bringing them together, stretching them toward the staircase as the entire room seemed to creak and groan. Izuku raced up the staircase, but realized he wasn't getting closer to the upper floor. Glancing down as he raced upward, Izuku was stunned to see the floorboards of the stair rapidly moving downward as if it were an escalator. Izuku was essentially running in place as the descending floorboards kept him for ascending; it might have looked comical were it not for the evil sorcerer trying to skewer him.
Resigning himself to his fate, Izuku ceased his running and allowed the moving floorboards to carry him back down to the floor before Ikiji. All of the floorboards seemed to alter in shape as sharp ripples tore them out of their stillness, rocking the numerous bookshelves in the room to and fro. The walls, too, seemed to ripple and warp as if they possessed the consistency of waves prepped to crash against the shoreline.
"W-what are you doing...?" Izuku dared to ask, horrified by the display of magic before him.
"You see now the strength that Dormammu grants me?" Ikiji boasted, causing the walls and ceiling to violently convulse with a squeeze of his hand. "I can bend space as easily as you might bend rubber!" The ceiling suddenly grew taut and regained its solidity with another flex of Ikiji's hand. Horrifying Izuku yet again, Ikiji suddenly leaped up to the ceiling and flipped himself upside down, landing on it as if it were the flat floor. "And his power allows me to nullify the effects of gravity on myself as I see fit!"
Ikiji took off in a sprint toward Izuku, closing the distance before the boy could muster up a strong enough shield. He coated and closed his hand into a bony plate before crashing it against his mandala, punching straight through and landing a solid direct hit onto Izuku's cheek. Grasping the boy's shoulders as he recoiled in pain, Ikiji violently tossed him into the ceiling before letting him collapse back down to the ground.
But Ikiji's onslaught did not end there. Raising his hands as if framing for a picture, Ikiji rotated them to the left and to the right, causing the room to rotate and spin as his hands did. Izuku tumbled helplessly as he rolled from floor to wall to ceiling and back to floor repeatedly, his body slamming into sliding bookshelves and being pelted upon by airborne books sent flying from Ikiji's spatial magic. Ikiji righted the room suddenly, sending Izuku's battered body and the splintered and rent remains of the room's bookshelves crashing back down to the floor.
Still, Ikiji was not yet satisfied. He would make this boy suffer for his insolence.
Ikiji raised his hands and tilted them down, the room mirroring his hand movements as it, too, began to tilt. Izuku clawed for something to grasp onto as he slid helplessly against the wall, what was now the bottom of the room. With a yell, Izuku rolled to the side, just barely avoiding a falling pile of hard cover books and splintered shelves before Ikiji suddenly tilted the room yet again, this time tilting his hands up as the room began to shift once more. Izuku jerked as he suddenly found himself falling, falling, directly into the bony grasp of Ikiji, whose osteal hand clenched his throat in an iron-like vice.
The room suddenly jerked back to normal, shelves, books and desks all guided by gravity as they crashed to the ground once more in abysmal heaps. Ikiji slammed Izuku into the ground and knelt down, digging his knee into the smaller boy's gut to keep him firmly in place. Ikiji released Izuku's throat and swiftly conjured a Space Shard with his palms, staring down at his sibling student with pitiful disdain.
"It's a real pity," Ikiji said as he raised his Shard above Izuku's head, readying it for the killing blow. "I can see in your eyes that you've experienced a great deal of pain and suffering in your young life. You have my sympathies, Izuku Midoriya, but not for long, as your pain will soon be over in an instant."
"Fade into the timeless void of Death!" Ikiji yelled as he brought down his wrathful Shard upon Midoriya's bloodied head...only to have his arm and blade entangled and halted by a dark green fabric of some sort, keeping the tip of his piercing Shard hovering an inch above Midoriya's eye.
"You have my sympathies, Ikiji Kokotsu," A deeply stern voice sounded from behind him, laced with a boiling fury that he hasn't had the misfortune of hearing in over five years. Ikiji dared to spare a glance behind him as a levitating Stephen Strange bore down on him furiously, blasting him away from Midoriya with a burst of ethereal lightning. "But not for long!"