Floating.

He knew this feeling. On the edge of a dream. Step forward or fall back? Muffled voices reached his ears.

"Two…-cent… rate. We'll see how long… lasts."

"Let's check on the others."

Tension grew in his muscles. He didn't know those voices. Did he?

He heard the ocean nearby, or was it a dream? Calling him back. Floating. He heard a child's laughter, excited steps splashing in the waves. He tried to move towards the sound, he knew that laughter. Something familiar. Something away from those voices. What voices?

His stomach lurched, and his eyes flew open. He was underwater! Instinctively he tried to draw breath but liquid filled his nose and lungs. No, they were already filled! His hands clutched at his throat as panic blinded him. One, two, three seconds. His heart rate slowed. He was not drowning. He then took notice of the wires and electrodes on his chest. Hospital?

Am I hurt?

His field of vision was limited, and his head ached but nothing severe. He hummed and warmth filled his chest. He tested his arms and legs, and moved normally despite being underwater. This is no hospital.

He reached out and touched glass. His arm jerked back, and he fought off the claustrophobia that threatened to freeze his will. His heart pounded, but he moved closer to the glass and felt around for a crease. None. He knocked on the glass and sensed that it wasn't very thick. He wondered about its strength. He traced the wires to the top of the tank and tugged. No movement.

The heat in his chest grew with his frustration, and he let out a lungful of warm water, only to have it fill up again. He accepted the fact that there must be something about the water that made it breathable, so whoever put him here didn't want him to drown.

He shook his head. He tried to remember something. Anything useful. He froze.

What's my name?

The panic he held back earlier unleashed itself, and he lashed out at the glass. It shattered easily, and he along with the water spilled out onto the floor. He took a ragged breath and gagged. The water he had so easily breathed before spilled out of his lungs and he wheezed until his throat was raw. He gulped at the cold air, and his lungs felt like they were on… Fire?

He let out a few more coughs and he saw bright little flickers of light that danced in front of his face. He stared at the tiny lights, and his breath grew stronger. He forced more air in and out of his lungs and the lights grew from embers to sheets of flame. Fire! Yes, that's mine. That's me.

He took off the electrodes, and looked around. He spotted a white shirt folded neatly on the table next to his broken tank. No, not mine. That tank is not mine.

He took uneasy steps toward the table, and hissed when he stepped on a small shard of glass. Blood mixed with the water on the floor and spread. He ignored it and finally reached the table. He lifted the shirt to his face and memories tried to flood into his mind. But something was in the way. His brow creased. Nothing.

His anger only grew. Careful not to set anything on fire, he took calming breaths. He snapped the shirt in the air and heard something slap on the ground. He looked down and saw a black wallet. He reached down to grab it, and froze as a piercing alarm filled the air.

He spun, flames roaring around him and saw a man drop his hand from a button along the wall.

The man smirked, "I'm sorry, it's still too early for you to wake up."

The man reached for something in his pocket just as gas started to hiss from the floor.

The room tilted and grew dim. Why?

A second pair of footsteps grew closer and addressed the man by the wall, "The winged-boy won't do. Put him with the others."

A shadow passed over him, "But you're in luck Mr. Midoriya, you may not have to share his fate."

Midoriya? Inko…

"You have a strong quirk that might be of use to me."

"Izu…"

"Goodnight Hisashi."