Solstice and Eclipse: Part III

Chapter XI: What Makes a Hero

The atmosphere in Class 1A had changed considerably since the last time they were in class. The entire world seemed to have been flipped on its head in the last three weeks and the once naïve students who had been so eager to fight the good fight, were gone and replaced by veterans still shaken by the horrors of war. Since the last time they'd sat in class a lifetime had seemed to pass, but also no time at all. The stress had taken its toll on them all and could be felt in every breath they took.

What happened over the summer had left scars on them all. Some were still sporting bruises while others woke in the middle of the night drenched in cold sweat. The laughter nowadays seemed hollow and forced, and a sense of dread seemed to radiate from the vacant chair that sat at the back of the classroom.

It's not as though it made much of a difference, really. Kaminari often joked that (L/N) was so quiet it might as well have been like he wasn't even there. But seeing the seat actually empty was a perturbing sight. Over the past four months, (L/N)'s absent presence had become a norm amongst the class. But now his present absence was being felt by them all.

"It's weird." Uraraka said quietly. "Even though we weren't friends, I can't shake the feeling that one of us is missing."

"I know what you mean." Sero said as he looked over his shoulder at (L/N)'s empty desk. "It's like we're not whole without him here. Like we're not Class A."

"That's the problem though, isn't it?" Oijiro said thoughtfully. "(L/N)'s as much a part of Class 1A as any of us, but we've never treated him like it."

"Well, he isn't exactly one of us." Kaminari said. "Not that I've got anything against the guy, but he's not a hero like the rest of us."

Jiro rolled her eyes. "You're one to talk."

"And he is a hero." Ashido said firmly. "When we were all separated at the USJ he and I wound up together. He fought off a whole horde of villains all by himself. I don't... I don't think I'd even be standing here if it weren't for him."

Tokoyami crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully. "He saved many of us that day."

"It's not just that." Hakagure added. "During his internship, he stopped that Ferris wheel from crushing all those people. He saved Yaomomo's life. And again, in the forest."

"Ashido and Hakagure are right, ribbit. The media really only gives attention to more personable heroes like All Might and Hawks because their personalities make them more popular."

"Yes, Tsu makes a good point." Iida pushed his glasses back up his nose. "And when the hero billboard charts were first introduced it changed society's understanding of the word. Sometimes I think people have forgotten what makes a hero. I'm ashamed to admit, but recently I seemed to have forgotten myself. But the truth is, (L/N) is a hero."

"The guy's a real man!" Kirishima said fervently. "He's placed himself between us and danger more times that I can count!"

Listening to his classmates, Midorya looked down at his scarred hand. "Sometimes I wonder how many of us wouldn't be here without (L/N)." Curling his hand into a fist, green energy sparked from his clenched hand. "The truth is he's more of a hero than any of us."

With that final thought the room fell silent.

[My Hero Academia]

(L/N) had been discharged from the hospital midmorning and he found himself trading one prison cell for another. His room in the 1-A Alliance dormitories was located beneath the main floor. It was the only building amongst Heights Alliance with a sublevel. Built specifically with him in mind, it had been intentionally separated from the others to provide him relief from any unwanted noise.

His few belongings were sat in a neat pile in one corner of the room. His tattered clothes had been separated by shirts, pants, and his neatly folded school uniform. Given his situation the school had been generous enough to provide him with some basic furnishings. There was a plain but decently sized desk and combined bookshelf that sat against the eastern wall. An overhead lamp was built into the bottom side of the shelf for practicality but unnecessary for him. A full-sized bed was positioned with its head in the middle of the northern wall where next to it stood a waist-high nightstand which housed two small shelves that sat atop one another.

(L/N) moved to sit on the bed, surprised at how his weight sank his body into the mattress. It was soft and comfortable. Swinging his legs up onto the bed, he sank into the soft mattress and allowed his head to fall into the pillows. It was barely past two in the afternoon, but he was so tired. The past week had exhausted him, and it seemed no amount of sunlight could cure the fatigue that had washed over him. He rolled onto one side and tried to fall asleep, then to the other side. After thirty minutes of tossing and turning he tried flipping so his head was on the other end of the bed, but still sleep would not grace him.

There was something off putting, he noticed, about sleeping in the middle of the room. It made the room seem so big and him feel isolated and exposed. So, (L/N) pushed the bed so it was tucked away in one of the corners. With the walls surrounding him he felt more secure. He rolled to one edge of the bed and pressed his back against the drywall, its solidity and presence allowing him to fall asleep.

When he awoke, he was once again drifting at the bottom ocean. He had been sinking in these waters so long, drowning, and he forgot how to breathe. When did the pressure stop crushing him? When did the water stop feeling cold?

(L/N)'s body had long since gone limp. His breathing slowed as he teetered on the edge of consciousness, just one small push away from sleep. He had given up the struggle a long time ago. Given up on the hope that someone might dive after him to pull him back to the surface. A cloud of sand churned in the water as his back collided with the seabed. His body bobbed off the surface and he was rocked by the water and his buoyancy, lulling him until he slowly settled atop the soft sand.

And then came the pounding.

Four muffled 'thuds', like someone hammering against a thick layer of glass, or the sound of four drums, echoed in his ears. At first, he thought it was the sound of the blood in his brain, but the rhythm was off, and the noise was panned too far to his right, the distribution of sound uneven.

One, two, three, four.

Still in a stupor, he turned his body towards the noise.

One, two, three, four.

Pushing off against the ocean floor, he began searching for the source of the noise. But the sound was carried through the water and made the origin difficult to pinpoint. (L/N) made slight adjustments in direction with every set of 'thuds', swimming further and further along the bottom of the ocean in search of the sound of drums.

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

Slowly, the noise gained clarity until the muffled bass was sharp as a snare. It came from where the water was warm, pouring out from the fissure. Carefully, (L/N) reached a hand out towards the mysterious source of warmth, quickly retreating it as another set of drumbeats sounded from its depths. Apprehensively, he pressed his palm against the fissure and leaned in, placing his ear against to the sand.

"(L/N)?"

There was something beneath the ocean floor, on the other side of the fissure.

"(L/N)?"

Something calling his name.

His body lurched at another set of four knocks, and he sat upright in his bed. His throat was dry, and his body was covered in cold sweats. Pushing the hair from his face, he turned his ear towards the door as someone called his name.

"(L/N)?" Yaoyorozu asked, her voice muffled by the door. "It's Yaoyorozu. I was hoping we could talk."