Under his measured gaze, sneers faltered, and doubts crept in. His logic pushed through the uproar, icy clarity challenging the crowd's malice, bit by bit melting their certainty.
Amidst all the turmoil and suspicion, the unwavering glow of loyalty refused to dim. In that storm of division and betrayal, those loyal to Izuku blazed all the brighter, holding his name above the rising flood of scorn, determined that he would not be lost to the darkness of their prejudice.
—
Izuku tossed and turned beneath the tangled sheets, sweat beading on his brow as sleep became a battleground. A brief flinch jolted his limbs, hands pawing frantically at the mattress as the nightmare tightened its grip. In the confines of his mind, the hateful comments warped into snarling, living shadows, each insult and accusation materializing into mocking figures that stalked him through the darkness. Their voices layered into a deafening racket, every spiteful word mutating into a new message bubble that hovered menacingly, closing in with every step he took.
He tried to run, heart hammering in his chest, but the swarm of taunts chased him relentlessly, dogging his heels no matter how desperately he fled. His breathing hitched, shallow and panicked, as the mob surged closer, voices slashing at his spirit. He collapsed, crouching low with his hands clamped over his ears, willing himself to shut it all out. The sound pressed in, merciless and overwhelming waves of ridicule crashing, louder and louder.
Too loud.
"Just stop." He begged, but it was drowned out by the comments.
"Stop!" He woke up yelling.
His chest heaved rapidly. His brain was going a mile a minute.
'I need to know." He thought.
He ran to find his phone. Once he retrieved it, he opened the comments.
. . .
Shigiraki slipped quietly into the dim room, intent on checking on his omega. Izuku was sprawled across the bed, hunched over his phone, the faint blue glow staining his skin in the half-light. A low chorus of muttering reached Shigiraki's ears before he even crossed the threshold, a tense, agitated sound. Drawing closer, he glimpsed the vile parade of comments on the screen.
Izuku's eyes were locked on the flood of reactions, each one nastier than the last.
'I've been telling you guys something was up with him!!! It makes more sense why all the teachers were enamored with him.'
'What a slut.'
'He never deserved the recognition from us citizens. Justice has been served.'
'Bet All Might's ashamed.'
'Anyone know where he lives?'
Distraught, Izuku flicked away from the cesspool, switching apps in a futile search for refuge, only to have his scandal dominate the very next feed. Shigiraki's sigh was heavy, sympathy and anger warring as he reached for the phone to spare Izuku further torment.
But before he could intervene, a new complication appeared. Inko's name surfaced. Why was Izuku's mother getting drawn into this storm? Tension mounted as Izuku tapped the comments, landing on a video. Shigiraki's hand shot out in warning, but Izuku, heart pounding, jerked upright to watch, defying Shigiraki's attempts to shield him. The video began to play, its presence hanging like a storm cloud over the room.
"Hello everyone, I am Inko Midoriya, the mother of Izuku Midoriya. I am here to apologize first." She said, bowing down at a 90-degree angle.
"I want to express my deepest apologies for the way my son has misled all of you," she began, her tone brittle with forced composure.
"Izuku was never intended to walk this path, but somewhere along the way, I lost control after he shared his acceptance into such a prestigious school. I'll admit, I was caught completely off guard. As his mother, everything I've ever done was meant for his well-being. And yet, I see now that I failed to instill in him a proper understanding of his place in this world. He's become convinced that he can stand alongside alphas, that he belongs on their level. This fantasy has spiraled out of control. I've spent a lot of time reflecting, and I intend to make sure he fully understands the gravity of his mistakes." She straightened, her words final and echoing with regret and resignation.
"Izuku, please come home. You've overstayed your welcome with your friends," she said, her tone shifting from maternal concern to an icy firmness that allowed no argument.
Her gaze hardened as she turned to the camera. "I have another announcement to make. I am actively searching for a suitable partner for my son. He will atone for his actions and return to the appropriate role expected of an omega. I urge you all, please, do not continue to cast him out or isolate him." The words hung in the air, chilling and resolute, cloaked in the trappings of public appeal but edged with the threat of unyielding control.
The phone slipped from Izuku's hand, clattering to the floor, a sound swallowed by a rush of agony. His own mother, selling his fate to the world, sewing shame and duty into his future as if it were a favor. A storm of betrayal, confusion, and sharp, seething anger roiled inside him. He wanted to scream, to beg her for dignity, but rage and heartbreak locked his limbs in place.
The harshest voices in his mind surged forward, now unmasked and merciless echoes of every insult, every accusation, twisting his memories and confidence with venom. He shrank into himself, a thousand invisible claws scraping along his skin, the vast world outside suddenly hostile, pressing in from every direction. Shadows seemed to close around him, choking out hope.
A hesitant touch brushed his shoulder, Shigiraki's attempt to anchor him, but Izuku recoiled violently, as if burned by kindness he no longer believed he deserved. His agony broke at last: a shattering sob, sharp with bitterness, wrung from his core. Waves of shame and self-hatred crashed over him, poisoning even the simplest parts of himself. He despised his secondary gender, despised his own body for what it made him endure.
Shigiraki tried to calm him, letting soothing pheromones fill the air, but Izuku twisted away, needing distance from comfort, unable to accept solace when raw self-loathing clawed beneath his skin.
Every gaze in the world suddenly felt accusatory, and Izuku wondered if they were right; maybe he was guilty, after all. Guilty for daring to hope, guilty for wanting more, guilty for ever believing he could shape his own destiny.
"Why was I even born?" he whispered loud enough for Shigraki to hear.
"Why am I here?"
"How is it my fault? I never wanted to be an omega."
"Why?!" Izuku yelled indignantly.
"Why is it the world hates me for something that should be trivial?"
"Should I die for my sin—"
"Enough!" Shigaraki's voice cracked through the room, raw and commanding. In one swift motion, he seized Izuku, pulling him forcefully into his arms. Panic exploded in Izuku's chest.
He thrashed instinctively, kicking, shoving, clawing for freedom, adrenaline and anguish lashing through his veins as he struggled against Shigaraki's unyielding grip.
"Let go, Tomura!" Izuku spat, fury crackling in his glare. But then he froze, his gaze snagging on a pale pink stain blooming across Shigaraki's cheek, a stark bruise, left by Izuku's own desperate blows. Shock drained the blood from Izuku's face. The world seemed to skid to a halt. Guilt crashed over him; he'd struck his alpha. His breath hitched, the fight within him stumbling into horror and regret.
Shigaraki released a weary sigh, his patience battered but unbroken. "Are you calm?" he asked quietly, voice gentler but edged with exhaustion.
Izuku's eyes were glued to the faint, bruised mark on his lover's face, shame flickering deep in his expression.
"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely, sincerity trembling on every word.
Shigaraki's crimson gaze lingered on Izuku's face, seeking a sign of control.
"Have you calmed down?" he murmured, the unwavering grip on Izuku still as much for comfort as restraint.
Izuku parted his lips to apologize again, but the words died on his tongue. He remembered well Shigaraki's legendary temper, but had never been so close to its edge. Swallowing hard, he simply nodded, silent and chastened. Slowly, cautiously, Shigaraki let him go. Crimson eyes still burned with banked fire, but every motion, careful, considerate, spoke of gentleness fighting to keep the storm at bay.
He stepped back, putting distance between us, his shoulders hunched and rigid. Without a word, he turned away, presenting me only with the tense line of his back. One hand rose to rake through his hair, fingers threading roughly at the roots, a nervous, frustrated motion that betrayed the storm brewing beneath his carefully composed exterior. The silence hung heavy.
"S-Shigiraki, I'm so—"
"Izuku, I'm not angry with you," he said, reaching towards Izuku.
"But I—"
Izuku flinched instinctively, squeezing his eyes shut as if bracing for a blow, but kept his arms stubbornly at his sides, refusing to shield himself. Shigaraki reached out, brushing a gentle hand through Izuku's unruly green curls, carefully clearing them from his tear-stained face with a delicate, almost reverent touch.
Shigaraki let out a quiet, frustrated sigh and lifted Izuku, escorting him back to the bed with an oddly tender determination. He guided his omega down onto the mattress, arranging the covers around him with careful hands.
"It's late," Shigaraki murmured, voice low and final.
"We'll talk about this tomorrow." The words closed the conversation, weighted with all the emotion left unspoken. The quiet room hummed with exhaustion and the promise of uneasy rest.