Cross the Divide

Beneath the Surface

The morning came too quickly, sunlight barely filtering through the curtains of his dorm room. He groaned, pushing himself up, his body heavy with exhaustion. The fight before lingering on his mind.

With a sigh, he headed down to the common room, where some of the others were already gathered. The tension in the air wasn't as heavy as before, but it was still there, lingering like a bad memory. Every glance, every whisper reminded him that he wasn't the Midoriya they had lost, and no matter what he did, that wasn't going to change.

As he grabbed a quick breakfast, Aizawa's voice cut through the air.

"Midoriya. In my office. Now."

Izuku's heart sank. He hadn't expected Aizawa to seek him out so soon, especially after everything that had happened with All Might. With a quiet nod, he followed the teacher down the halls of UA, anxiety building in his chest with every step.

When they reached the familiar door, Aizawa pushed it open and gestured for him to sit. Izuku hesitated for a moment before taking a seat, avoiding Aizawa's eyes.

Aizawa shut the door behind him, then leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. His expression was unreadable, but Izuku could sense the concern buried beneath the surface.

"You've been here a few days now," Aizawa began, his tone blunt but not unkind. "How are you holding up?"

Izuku swallowed, his fingers twisting in his lap. "I... I don't know. It's hard to explain."

Aizawa's gaze softened slightly, though he didn't move from his position. "You're dealing with a lot. More than anyone should have to."

Izuku bit his lip, his thoughts racing. "It's not just that I'm dealing with it, though. I... I don't even know if I should be here. This isn't my world. This isn't my fight. And yet, everyone looks at me like I'm supposed to be him."

Aizawa's eyes narrowed slightly, as though considering his words carefully. "You're not him. And no one expects you to be."

Izuku shook his head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "That's not how it feels. Everywhere I go, I'm just... a ghost. A reminder of the person they lost. And I don't know how to live with that."

For a moment, Aizawa didn't respond, and the silence stretched between them. Then, without warning, he moved from his spot, pulling up a chair and sitting directly across from Izuku. His gaze was sharp, but there was something deeper in his expression—something almost paternal.

"Midoriya," Aizawa said quietly, "what you're feeling right now is normal. This situation you're in—it's not something anyone could have prepared for. But you're not here to replace the Midoriya they lost. You're here because you still have something to give."

Izuku's breath hitched, his throat tightening. "But I'm not a hero here. I'm not anything."

Aizawa's eyes softened, and for a moment, Izuku could see the exhaustion in the man's face—the years of battles, of loss, of protecting students who sometimes didn't make it. "You're more than just a hero, Midoriya. You're a person. And right now, you're a person who's grieving. That's allowed."

Izuku blinked, not expecting Aizawa's words to cut so deep. Grieving. He hadn't thought about it that way before, but maybe that's exactly what he was doing. Grieving the loss of his other self, of the future he thought he would have. Grieving the world he left behind.

Aizawa continued, his voice steady but quiet. "No one here expects you to be okay overnight. What happened—what's happening—it's going to take time to process. And even then, it might never make sense. But that doesn't mean you're alone."

Izuku felt a lump form in his throat, his hands trembling slightly. "I feel alone."

Aizawa sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're not, though. You have people who care about you, even if you don't see it yet."

Izuku looked up at him, his vision blurred by tears. "I don't know if I can do this, Sensei. I don't know if I can be here, knowing what I know."

Aizawa reached out, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to do it all right now. You just need to take it one day at a time. You're still Midoriya Izuku, whether you're in this world or another. And that means something."

The weight of Aizawa's words hung in the air, and for the first time since he arrived, Izuku felt a flicker of something inside him. It wasn't hope exactly, but it was something close—a small piece of resolve that hadn't been there before.

"I'll try," Izuku whispered, his voice barely audible.

Aizawa nodded, standing up and giving him one last, reassuring look. "That's all anyone can ask."

As Aizawa turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder. "And Midoriya? If it gets too much, you come find me. You don't have to carry this alone."

Izuku nodded, watching as Aizawa left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. The weight on his chest hadn't disappeared, but it felt a little lighter. Just enough to breathe.