A State of Decay

Chapter 8

Midoriya sits next to a very nervous Tomura at the bar. Kurogiri had made them both a drink, but neither of them had spoken yet. Himiko and Atsuhiro sit at a table a short distance away, pretending not to be watching, but Tomura knows better. 

Himiko loved nothing more than to bury her nose in Tomura's business. 

Midoriya is focused on the drink in front of him, his gloved finger tracing the top of the glass. Tomura takes another sip of his drink, silently thanking Kurogiri in his mind for making it strong. 

"So," Midoriya says, breaking the silence. "You got me here. What did you have to say to me?"

Tomura opens his mouth, but all the words he'd planned to say shrivel up and die on the tip of his tongue. he isn't sure what to say to Midoriya. All he knows is that he doesn't want the man to make the same mistakes that he did. 

"You don't smile anymore," Tomura says. He isn't sure why that's the first thing that leaves his mouth. 

"There's not a lot to be smiling about these days," Midoriya replies. Tomura glances at the green-haired hero seated next to him, noticing the faraway look in his emerald eyes. 

Midoriya's eyes used to be full of so much passion and warmth. It was something that always drew Tomura in, even when he claimed he hated the hero. But now, there wasn't a hint of warmth in those eyes. He hated this fact and wanted to do something to fix it, but someone like Tomura wouldn't even know where to start. He hardly smiled himself. 

"Isn't that like your whole thing, though? 'Save everyone with a smile' or something like that?" he replies.

"Like I said, there's not a lot to be smiling about." Midoriya had yet to look at Tomura, instead keeping his faraway gaze fixed on some point behind the bar. The hero takes a swig of his drink before setting the glass back down on the countertop with a light thump. His gloved hand flexes around the glass.

Tomura puts his hands in his lap as he feels the tell-tale itching sensation in his palms. If he's not careful, he could disintegrate something by accident again. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, and if he didn't get himself under control soon, the drink on the counter would be nothing but dust. 

"You can't always fix everything," Tomura finally states. "You're not going to be able to control every outcome all the time. Sometimes, you have to know when to quit." 

"I can't quit," Midoriya says, clenching his jaw. "Yeah, I might not be able to fix everything, but the second I quit is the second they win. I can't let them win. As long as I'm alive, they need to know that there's at least one person out there who's willing to do what it takes to put a stop to their crimes." 

Tomura digests Midoriya's words. He's not sure what he can say to the hero anymore. Midoriya has the same sense of justice he's always had, except this time, he's all on his own. He's a strong hero, but it will take a lot more than one person kicking and punching their way through the streets to take down an entire system. 

"How about this?" Tomura starts. I'll help you, but only if you promise to stop trying to contact other villain groups."

Midoriya's head whips to the right, looking at Tomura with a shocked expression. 

But Tomura is just as shocked as the man next to him. 

"Shiggy, you can't be serious!" Himiko says from the other side of the bar. Tomura looks over to his friend, forgetting she'd been listening at all. He waves a dismissive hand at her. 

Does he really want to help Midoriya? No. But if it keeps him from making bad mistakes, he'd do it. He doesn't know why he's feeling so adamant about this, but it's the only way he can think of to keep Midoriya out of trouble. 

Midoriya doesn't know it, but it's a slippery slope. The minute you start sacrificing even a fraction of your morals to reach your goals, you're lost. The things you're willing to give only get bigger and bigger, and the pieces you cut from yourself and give to the cause only get larger and bloodier until there's nothing of you left. 

"You don't mean that," Midoriya says, looking back to his drink. "You all seem to be doing well. I wouldn't want to mess any of this up." 

"I don't want to mess it up, either," Tomura tells him. "But I don't want to see you mess yourself up, either." 

Tomura wishes that Midoriya would just listen to him and stop it altogether. He doesn't know why, but the thought of the hero tearing himself apart for a cause like this makes his chest hurt. He knows it's a fruitless effort. There's nothing the hero can do all by himself. So, if the only thing Tomura can do is at least watch out for the hero, he'll do it. 

"I'll think about it," Midoriya finally says. 

"You're not leaving here until you give me an answer." 

"You don't really want this, Shigaraki," Midoriya says, looking back at Tomura. His green eyes sweep across the ex-villain's face. "This is my battle. I don't need anyone else getting involved or getting hurt because of me." 

"Who looks out for you, then?" Tomura finally snaps, raising his voice, his crimson eyes piercing into the man next to him. "When you're out there, all alone, shoving everyone and everything away, who watches your back? Who makes sure you get home safely? And not even that, but you'll never see the world you want. The best you can do is stick to normal hero work. Do what you can. You can't control everything, and you can't save everyone. I thought you, of all people, could understand that." 

"But I can try," Midoriya says, his voice small. "Even though the heroes technically won and everything, it feels like nothing's changed." 

Midoriya takes another swig of his drink, finishing off the contents of the glass. 

At this point, Tomura doesn't know what he can say to the hero sitting next to him. He looked down at his hands around his glass, stared at the new pile of dust under his hands, and cursed under his breath. 

"Sorry, Kurogiri," he says, sweeping the pile off the counter. The man behind the bar says nothing as he replaces Midoriya's and Tomura's drinks. Midoriya utters a quiet thank you before sipping the new drink. 

"I don't know what to tell you," Tomura says quietly. "I don't know what to say other than that you'll run yourself into the ground. Change isn't going to come in this lifetime, so you're just wasting your time. I..." he trails off, unsure if he wants to say the next part out loud. 

I don't like to see you feeling so down. I don't want to see you get hurt anymore. 

Midoriya meant more to Tomura than he knew and more than he liked to admit. Midoriya saved him and allowed him to have a second chance at life. And now, Tomura felt like this was his chance to repay him. 

He wanted to save Midoriya from making a terrible choice, but he didn't know if he could. Midoriya seemed sure of what he wanted, and there didn't seem to be any stopping him. 

"Is there any way I can convince you to just... stop?" Tomura asks. He already knows the answer to this, but there's no harm in asking. 

"No." 

"Fine. Have it your way. But you're done talking to villains about this shit. They don't care about you or the 'greater good' or whatever you want to call it." Tomura says the last part with finger quotes. "You have any more idiotic ideas; you run them by me. End of story. Or I'll put a stop to you myself, got it?" 

Midoriya rolls his eyes at Tomura. "Fine. If you want to help, I won't stop you." 

It was a small compromise, but at least it gave Tomura an in. If anything, this gave him another chance to convince the hero to stop. Tomura was going to do what he could for now, and at least someone would be keeping an eye on the idiot.