Shadows of Betrayal and Redemption

Izuku Midoriya stood frozen, his heart pounding as he watched the stretcher being wheeled out of the alley. The bloodied, lifeless form on it barely resembled the Jace he knew. The rain poured relentlessly, masking the tears streaming down Izuku's face as paramedics loaded the body into an ambulance. He wanted to scream, to cry out, but the words caught in his throat, strangled by disbelief and despair.

Class 1-A had gathered in the common room later that evening, the weight of the news crushing their usual chatter. Nobody spoke at first, their grief too raw to put into words. When the announcement came, it had been like a collective punch to the gut. Their friend, their comrade, was gone.

Izuku sat near the window, his gaze fixed on the storm outside. He clenched his fists tightly, the memory of Jace's determined face during the Sports Festival flashing in his mind. Jace had always been strong, composed—a pillar of strength in their chaotic world. And now he was gone.

The day of the funeral was bleak, the sky mirroring the somber mood of those gathered. Heroes, students, and faculty from U.A. lined the grounds, all dressed in black. The coffin, draped in a dark cloth adorned with the U.A. insignia, rested at the front of the gathering. It felt surreal to Izuku, as though this couldn't possibly be real.

Shoto stood beside him, his usual stoicism replaced with a quiet sadness. "He deserved better than this," Shoto murmured, his voice barely audible. "He was one of us."

Izuku nodded, unable to find the words. He looked around, noticing the hollow expressions on everyone's faces. Bakugo stood a few feet away, his fists shoved into his pockets. Though his face betrayed no emotion, Izuku could see the tension in his shoulders. Even he wasn't immune to the weight of Jace's loss.

When it was time to speak, Aizawa stepped forward. His usually monotone voice carried a rare vulnerability. "Jace was more than just a student. He was a fighter, a protector, and someone who inspired those around him. His loss is not just a blow to U.A., but to the world he was meant to protect."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. Izuku felt a lump form in his throat as he recalled his last conversation with Jace. It had been just days ago, filled with casual banter and mutual encouragement. How could everything have changed so quickly?

Each classmate took their turn paying their respects. Ochaco laid a single white flower on the coffin, her tears falling silently. "He always believed in us," she said, her voice cracking. "We have to keep going for him."

Kirishima stepped forward next, his usually boisterous demeanor subdued. "Jace was the manliest guy I knew. He never backed down, not once. I'll miss him."

Izuku's turn came, and he hesitated, his legs feeling like lead as he approached the coffin. He stared at it for a moment, his mind racing with memories. Finally, he spoke, his voice shaking. "Jace… you were a hero in every sense of the word. You taught us how to be strong, even when things were tough. I… I promise I'll make you proud."

As the ceremony concluded, the coffin was lowered into the ground. The sound of dirt hitting wood echoed in the silent field, each thud like a dagger to Izuku's heart. He turned away, unable to watch any longer. The image of Jace's lifeless body haunted him, a reminder of how cruel their world could be.

Back at the dorms, the silence was oppressive. Nobody had the energy to speak, each person lost in their thoughts. Izuku sat on his bed, staring at the All Might figure on his desk. It felt wrong to have anything cheerful in the room when his heart felt so heavy.

Shoto entered the room quietly, his face still drawn with grief. "Midoriya," he said softly, "we need to talk."

Izuku looked up, wiping his eyes quickly. "What is it, Todoroki?"

"About Jace," Shoto began, his voice measured. "Doesn't something about this feel… off to you?"

Izuku frowned. "What do you mean?"

Shoto hesitated before continuing. "I don't know. Just… the way it happened. It doesn't make sense. Jace was too strong, too skilled. For him to die like that… it doesn't add up."

Izuku's mind raced. He had been so consumed by grief that he hadn't questioned it. But now, Shoto's words planted a seed of doubt. Could there be more to Jace's death than they knew?

The following days were a blur of classes and training, but the weight of Jace's absence lingered. Izuku found himself glancing at the empty seat in their classroom, half-expecting Jace to walk in with his usual quiet confidence. But he never did.

Aizawa seemed more withdrawn than usual, his lessons carrying an unspoken heaviness. The students of Class 1-A tried to push forward, but the loss had left a hole that couldn't be filled.

Late one night, Izuku sat on the roof of the dorms, the cool breeze offering little comfort. He stared at the stars, his thoughts a tangled mess. "Jace," he whispered, "if you can hear me… I'll keep fighting. For you. For everyone."

Unbeknownst to him, in the shadows far from U.A., Jace—now Nine—watched through hidden eyes. The funeral, the grief, the mourning—it had all been part of the plan. But as he turned away, his chest tightened ever so slightly. A flicker of something he couldn't quite place.

For the first time since his transformation, Jace felt the faintest pang of regret.