They moved in a grotesque manner, as if they were a swarm of ants that, despite the dimorphism of their limbs, advanced without getting in each other's way. Somehow, they moved as one.
"I've got a few seconds left, at best, a minute."
"Let's see if this can slow them down, even just a little."
He drove his arms and roots into the ground, spread them in every direction, and waited for the creatures to draw closer.
Once they were in position, Wildvine retracted the entire structure he had formed beneath the surface. Instantly, numerous large tunnels weakened the pavement, creating a massive trench that swallowed the monsters whole.
He didn't celebrate victory and, choosing caution, directed his arm to his back to grab a few seeds and seal off their escape.
The creatures were faster—they burst out of the rubble like cockroaches.
Wildvine had to leap several meters backward to create distance; by then, the formation had already reassembled.
"There's little time left, and there are too many of them."
The horde reached him like a wave. Fortunately, he managed to extend his arm to the opposite end of the street; his claws planted firmly and pulled his body to that position.
The wave did not falter—it curved in unison and changed direction. Little by little, due to their number and proximity, the mass lost its individual shapes and became one single entity.
A fleshy, whistling structure that followed its target until it could consume it.
Wildvine slid a few centimeters, brought his arms behind his back, and took three seeds in each hand. He placed them between his fingers and, with a spin many would call unnecessary, launched his artillery in such a way that the mass crashed against a wall of vines, like a breakwater.
Grotesque impact sounds echoed through the lianas; they did not give way, but bulged outward. In response, Wildvine used his ability to manipulate his plants, causing them to overlap the mass. They extended several meters above it and, once they reached the necessary length, he ordered the vines to curve downward, as if they were a massive blanket cradling a particularly violent and restless school of fish.
In a matter of seconds, a vegetal sphere settled over the street. Its composition seemed rubbery, as whatever it contained moved violently and uncontrollably inside, struggling and twisting in every direction.
He threw three more seeds to reinforce it. Then, with a simple command, hundreds—no, thousands—of spikes formed within. As he clenched his fists, the sphere began to shrink, and while shrieks of anguish and pain spread through the street, Izuku felt a kind of relief knowing that such creatures had abandoned this plane.
As soon as resistance ceased, Wildvine returned the vines to the earth. The cocoon had vanished, and with it, its plagues.
In turn, he dissolved—like a flower blooming—what had kept the child safe. He gently extended his arm and pulled him to his side.
Beep-beep-beep.
A red flash returned him to his human form.
—As usual, just in time—he sighed in relief.
He fell onto his back and gazed at the sky. —This time it was closer than usual—.
"If those creatures had grabbed me in human form…" He shuddered just thinking about it.
The child beside him imitated him, and soon both contemplated the solemnity of the stars, indifferent to the life-or-death confrontation that had taken place millions of kilometers away.
—I-it's finally over… r-right?—he asked, trembling.
—Y-yes, for now—he looked away, unable to conceive that someone like that could escape.
—Don't worry, they won't go far—he assured him. —I'll take care of stopping them myself—.
There was a brief pause before he received an answer—the hesitation of a child sunk in despair, so deep that, in his imagination, he presented that atrocious act as the most natural response to the actions of two inhuman beings.
—I-I'd rather k-kill them… They don't deserve to keep breathing after what they did—.
—T-th-that's n-not!…—
And even though Izuku had expected that answer, the pain that surged within him struck so hard that he couldn't provide a coherent response at once.
—K-killing them will n-never be the way!—
His answer wavered—not because of his conviction to do good, but because of the doubt that had been tormenting him since he arrived in Fuyuki.
"How do you act when someone is beyond salvation?"
The very idea tormented him. How could he live after taking a life?
—T-th-then w-what is the way!?—he asked through tears. —W-what g-guarantees me they won't escape in the end and keep committing their crimes!?—
—…You weren't there. You don't know how it all started—. He paused and wiped his nose with his hand.
Izuku chose only to listen.
—I had just come back from playing and I was really dirty. Mom made me take a bath and then we went to eat. It was like any other day. The news about the murders was on, and my p-parents decided I couldn't go out anymore until they caught the killer… I g-got mad and w-we yelled at each other, th-then I went upstairs to sleep—. He paused briefly. —I heard the volume of the news and I k-knew they were still awake, but I didn't want to go down until they went to bed so they'd feel bad. In the end I couldn't resist, and when I went down… th-they w-were all d-dead.
A-and h-he was smiling—smiling like seeing m-me come down from m-my room was exciting—. He covered his face with his hands. —A-and h-he i-introduced them to me, a-all of them, l-like they weren't p-part o-of my f-family—.
—Th-they l-left me b-behind… I-I'm alone…—his tears spilled freely. —C-can you g-guarantee me th-that s-someone like that d-doesn't deserve to die!?—he asked.
—I-I understand. I'm not saying you're wrong, but having an answer and acting on it are two different things… I want you to know that I understand you. I understand the pain, the suffering, the helplessness, the despair. I know that inside you, it doesn't only hurt because of what happened to you, but because of everything they've done—. He paused. —But right now, there's something that has to be engraved in your heart. Live for them. Be happy for them. That's what they deserve—.
—I wish I hadn't been the kid you saved in the end… maybe it would've been better to go with them… My l-little sister—he sobbed. —The last time we talked, we argued. She wanted to come play with us at the park, but I didn't want her to come so she wouldn't bother the others. It broke me when I saw her crying, but I couldn't apologize. Now I'll never have the chance—.
It was impossible to hold back the tears. This time, both were submerged in that well of sadness.
—I-I'm sure she'd be happy that you have the chance to visit the park another day—Izuku wiped his tears with the back of his hand. —W-wherever she is, she'll enjoy watching you play in that park… Swinging, playing hide-and-seek, lying on the sand, or watching a line of ants… Those who love us never abandon us. They enjoy seeing us find joy in even the smallest things—.
—Do you th-think I'm a bad person for wanting them to die?—he asked.
—No. That only shows you're human. That hatred comes from the immense love you feel for your family, and I know that deep in your heart, that feeling extends to others as well. But I want you to understand this: I'm sure your family would never have wanted you to stain yourself this way. Once you cross that line, there's no going back—.
—Live for them. Breathe for them. Do good for them. There is no better way to honor those who gave their lives for us—.
He paused when he heard the familiar sound of the Rust Bucket approaching their location.
—I can't give you an answer today—Izuku said. —Maybe it'll take me days, months, or years before I can make that decision easily, and to be honest, it scares me to reach that point. I'm sorry to disappoint you, truly. This night will stay in my memory for a long time. I could have arrived sooner—that's a reality—. He said this as he stood up, brought his arms to his legs, and bowed.
—Y-you d-don't h-have t-to!—
—So please, never blame yourself for surviving. Blame those who caused the harm, and me—the one who couldn't stop it—. He straightened up and extended his hand. —This is my first step toward fixing my mistakes: offering you a hand—. He took it, and only then did he realize that the green-haired boy was also trembling from head to toe.
—Sometimes, no matter how insignificant it may seem, it's the first step toward healing… toward becoming something greater—.
—Tonight I'll make up for my absence. It's a promise of life. As long as I breathe and can move, neither of those two will ever touch anyone again. This will be the last time they hurt someone—.