Cross the Divide

On the Edge

Izuku hadn't intended to find himself on the rooftop, but there he was, staring out at the wide, open sky. The cold breeze cut through his uniform, but it didn't stop the storm inside his chest. His mind had been swirling ever since the fight with Bakugou—No...ever since he'd seen his own name on that memorial.

The view from here wasn't much; the rooftop didn't have the same skyline he remembered. It felt grayer, dimmer, just like the world he was trapped in. And somewhere, deep inside him, there was a gnawing thought—one he couldn't quite shake.

Would they be better off without me here?

His hands gripped the railing tighter. He didn't want to admit it, but part of him felt like an intruder in this world. He was a ghost of the boy they had lost. They'd mourned him, moved on, and now here he was, reopening wounds he wasn't sure could ever heal.

He wondered if the other version of himself—their Izuku—had ever stood in this exact spot. If he'd ever felt the weight of the world in his chest the way Izuku did now. Maybe he'd been stronger. Maybe that's why he'd been the one to make the ultimate sacrifice.

A quiet voice broke through the fog of his thoughts. "Midoriya?"

Izuku didn't turn right away, though he recognized the voice instantly. Uraraka. She stood a few feet away, hesitant but concerned. "We've been looking for you," she added softly.

"I... I just needed some air," Izuku muttered, eyes still fixed on the sky.

There was a pause, and then the sound of footsteps. She moved closer, standing beside him, her eyes scanning his face. "This world... it's not easy for you, is it?"

Izuku's shoulders slumped. He didn't need to answer. His silence spoke louder than words.

"Do you... ever think about him? The other you?" Uraraka asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Izuku swallowed hard. "All the time."

"Do you think he ever felt the same way?" she asked. "Like he didn't belong?"

The question caught Izuku off guard. He blinked, finally turning to look at her. "I don't know. I mean... he sacrificed himself for all of you. Maybe he didn't feel like this. Maybe he had everything figured out."

"Maybe," Uraraka said, "or maybe he felt just as scared as you do now."

Izuku's breath hitched. He hadn't considered that—hadn't considered that the other him might've been just as lost, just as unsure. That maybe he hadn't been so different after all.

Uraraka took a step closer, her hand brushing his arm. "You don't have to carry all this alone, Izuku."

He didn't respond at first. His gaze dropped to the ground below them, a dizzying distance away. The thought he'd had earlier crept back into his mind, uninvited, unwanted. Would they be better off?

"You're not alone," Uraraka said firmly, as if sensing the dark turn his thoughts were taking. "We're here. I'm here. And I'm not going to let you disappear."

Izuku closed his eyes, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill. "It just... it feels like no matter what I do, I'm a reminder of what they lost."

"That's not true," Uraraka said. "You're more than that. You're our friend. And maybe... maybe you don't have to figure everything out right now. Maybe it's okay to just... be here. With us."

Her words were like a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge. Izuku let out a shaky breath, the weight of his thoughts slowly beginning to lift.

"Thank you, Uraraka," he whispered.

She smiled, her grip on his arm tightening just slightly. "Anytime, Deku."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Izuku allowed himself to believe her.