Cross the Divide

Shattered Familiarity

Morning arrived too quickly. Izuku hadn't slept much, his mind still reeling from his conversation with Kacchan the night before. His words haunted him—"Don't make me bury you again." It felt like an impossible burden to carry, but wasn't that the story of his life?

Class resumed, though the atmosphere was tense. Everyone pretended things were normal, but the glances, the stolen looks, told Izuku they were anything but. He caught Ochako's worried eyes once or twice, but she said nothing. Neither did Todoroki, who often stole glances his way. It was as if the entire class was holding their breath around him, unsure how to act or what to say.

The teachers, on the other hand, maintained an eerie calm. Aizawa lectured without acknowledging the turmoil swirling in the room, though Izuku knew he had to feel it. He always did.

When lunchtime came, Izuku found himself feeling even more out of place. He grabbed his food and hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was better to eat alone or sit with the others. But before he could make a decision, Shinso appeared beside him.

"Mind if I sit?" Shinso asked, already dropping his tray down.

Izuku blinked, surprised, but nodded. "Of course."

They sat in silence for a few moments, neither touching their food. Shinso, much like Aizawa, had a calmness about him that felt oddly comforting amidst the chaos. He wasn't one to push or ask awkward questions, which made it easier for Izuku to just be in his presence.

Shinso eventually spoke, his tone casual but pointed. "This whole thing's been a mess, huh?"

Izuku let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Look," Shinso continued, "I don't know what it's like, being thrown into this version of... everything. But I get how it feels to not belong somewhere you're supposed to."

Izuku looked at him, startled by how accurately Shinso had nailed the feeling. The other world's Midoriya had sacrificed himself, had become a legend in this place. Meanwhile, this version of him felt like an intruder, a replacement who hadn't earned his place.

"It's just..." Izuku paused, struggling to find the right words. "I keep thinking I'm doing something wrong by being here. Like I'm betraying everything he did."

Shinso's gaze was steady. "You're not him. You don't have to be. No one's asking you to step into his shoes, Midoriya."

"Yeah, but what if they expect me to?" Izuku asked, his voice quieter now. "I don't even know how I feel about what he did. I mean, in my world... I survived. It wasn't because I chose to, it just happened differently. And now... I don't know if I would've been brave enough to make that sacrifice."

Shinso leaned back in his chair, watching Izuku with a level of understanding few others had shown. "That doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."

Izuku's throat tightened at the simple truth of it. He'd been trying to carry the weight of two worlds—both the one he came from and the one he now found himself in. But maybe he didn't have to. Maybe that was the point.

Shinso broke the silence again, his voice softer. "You don't have to be the guy who saved the world. Just be you."

Izuku nodded, though his chest still felt heavy. He didn't have all the answers, but Shinso's words offered him a bit of clarity—enough to keep going, at least for now.

As they finished their meal in comfortable silence, Izuku couldn't help but feel grateful for Shinso's presence. There was no judgment, no expectation—just understanding. And right now, that was exactly what he needed.