Chapter 63: Perfect Practice
"Yeah, you got this! And so does Tamaki. And Mirio. And me. Let's do it!"
"We don't even know what's going to happen," Mirio says. "I mean, they wouldn't throw something we couldn't handle at us, but we're completely blind here. Maybe we should be careful?"
"Boo! Caution is for the boring." Nejire spins in mid-air, continuing to make lazy circles a meter or so off the ground. She stops right beside Izuku for a moment. "I wanna have fun today. Work has been getting kinda serious lately."
"It's been the same for me, too," Mirio agrees. "Sir… he's not the same. He hasn't been for a week or so."
"Fat Gum's nervous about All Might's vacation," Tamaki mumbles. "I am too, but seeing him worry is just." He purses his lips. "I hate it."
"Which is why we should try to relax a little." Nejire lands on her feet and leans against Izuku's side. "Things are only going to get more and more dark and difficult, but we shouldn't let that get to us. We're heroes, yeah? We're supposed to smile and be reassuring. No angst while in costume!"
Izuku cracks a smile and wraps an arm around Nejire's shoulders. "Fine by me. Being confident in and enjoying the same thing sounds great. When's the countdown going to start?"
Silence. Thick and tense. No one moves a muscle. Somehow, they keep straight faces for ten whole seconds. Then Izuku catches Tamaki's eye and it's all over. They all start to laugh at once, clutching at their sides and leaning against each other for support. It's impossible to get it together, not when Mirio's snorting like a pig and Nejire's giggling right in his ear.
"Oh… oh, god, you had me for a second."
"I… I didn't think you guys would believe me!"
"It's just… a countdown. Us. Getting one. Like we would ever!"
"I needed this."
"Yeah."
To the surprise of no one, the stadium starts to rumble. The ground they're standing on is all concrete, but the grass around them slides away, revealing a massive hole in the ground. Their platform starts to descend, and glowing red eyes greet them. Mechanical whirring fills their ears, hydraulics start to flow, and pistons fire. Izuku looks into the eyes of a zero-pointer as he sinks. But just one would be too easy. On his own, he could probably take one or two. But there are four of them fighting today. So by Nedzu or Aizawa's logic, that means that there should be nine, all with varying heights, widths, and armaments.
The platform stops at the bottom, and the robots begin to move. They shake the earth with each step, each crash of a foot on dirt making Izuku's heart jump. "Plan?" he says, exchanging glances with his friends.
"Go for the joints," Nejire says, almost uncaring in spite of the massive machines bearing down on them.
"Good idea," Mirio agrees. "I'll go right for their knees and knock 'em off balance."
"You and Tamaki can be distractions," Izuku says. "Just try to keep them moving. If they don't settle, there'll be points where they're off balance. Nejire and I can take care of it from there."
Tamaki nods. "Sounds good."
"Perfect. Let's go!"
Izuku kicks off the ground in the nick of time. A massive metal fist comes down, blocking out the sun and stirring up wind. Izuku flies to the side, trailing tentacles that pierce and grip the metal. Spinning mid-air, he grabs his whips with his hands, pulling back with his legs and stressing his muscles. His whole body goes into the pull, and the first veers off course.
The robot stumbles, off balance and vulnerable. A blast of golden light slams into the back of the machine's head. Grinning, Izuku dives, pushes off the arm, and spins. He builds up momentum, somersaulting until he's almost dizzy. Then, he explodes. His upper body extends, fists pulled back and elbows tucked into his ribs.
"Double California Smash!"
The wind rips through the air, screaming as it spins. The backlash shoots Izuku upward, all the way to the top seats of the stadium. From above, he watches as metal crumples and snaps. Shrapnel flies, and the machine moans. It goes down, crashing into one of its fellows as it faceplants. One down, eight to go. Or so he thinks.
The machine rises, slow and deliberate. Nejire attacks it again, redoubling her efforts. But attacks from other robots force her away, and Izuku realizes that the things have some kind of AI. Diving down again, Izuku stomps on the fallen robot's head. It buckles, joints locking up. He keeps the pressure up, casting Blackwhip to grab the ground below and pulling. It starts to sink, and Izuku prepares to target the thing's neck. But he hears a whoosh from behind, and backflips over a swipe from a different enemy.
The robots are staying spread apart. A few are paired up, but the space between them makes it impossible to start a domino chain. Izuku weaves around under the robot that forced him off the first one to go down, kicking and punching at the metal in an attempt to start wearing it down. He's surprised at the amount of damage he can do with simple attacks, and he's left stunned when he breaks a finger off of one of the hands with a basic axe kick.
Deciding that it won't hurt, Izuku picks a robot and lines up with its chest. He pushes off the one closest to him as hard as he can and angles his body. His shoulder rams into the robot, parting the metal and wires. Sparks fly, his own and the machines. Instead of hitting a brick wall, Izuku pierces the robot. He's buried in the heart of the beast, the engine dying around him and oil slicking his clothes. He comes out the other side dazed and scratched.
Wiping the motor oil from his face, Izuku watches the machine collapse. It hits the ground with a massive crash. It does not rise. Millions—billions, maybe—of yen worth of technology and labor are reduced to nothing but scrap. The world freezes for a moment. Izuku stares at the destruction he caused, awed.
"Huh."
A half-second later, one of the remaining robots bends down, grabs the arm of the dead one, and rips it from its socket. And all of sudden, Izuku has a couple thousand kilos of steel hurling at him at fifty miles an hour. He dodges easily, but the metal arches, slows to a stop, peaks, and rockets back down to earth in just a few seconds. Izuku dodges again, but he grabs at the metal, creating a net with Blackwhip. He doesn't jerk to a stop. Instead, he slows the fall as best he can. Even with all of his strength, he feels the weight. Yet it's not as bad as he thought it would be. Closer to a struggle to succeed than a fight to live. Hard, but doable.
Izuku stops with the arm ten or so meters off the ground. Around him, robots move. Mirio and Tamaki prove to be the perfect ants—annoying, small, and impossible to stamp out. From above, Nejire rains down hellfire, unleashing full-power blasts every second, denting metal and burning exposed wires.
Izuku hefts the weight. It's not awful, but he still feels like he's holding up a few hundred whales. Briefly, he considers his options. He could rip through the rest of the robots like he did before. It would be efficient and end the fight quickly. Or he could push it and have some fun, like he said he wanted. And like Nejire wanted to.
He pushes. Forty-five percent swells to fifty-five—enough to make his bones creak but not break. The weight feels lighter below him, and he pulls. The force causes the arm to bounce, testing his grip. Izuku holds form and starts to rock his body back and forth. Like a pendulum, the hunk of metal begins to sway. The living robots seem to know what's up because a few try to close in. But it's too late. His friends cover him, and if the robots get close, they could be knocked off balance and he'll get away anyways.
The weight climbs higher and higher, and Izuku starts to fly back and forth. Every change in direction causes the arm to whistle through the air. Momentum builds and builds, all the way until Izuku's sure he can't add any more or stop the arm if he had to. On the last swing, he watches carefully. The arm rises, slowing as it approaches the heavens. Right before it's about to stop moving, Izuku heaves. The arm jerks towards him, the line going slack before completely disappearing. It starts to fall again. The angle is almost perfect. The arm crashes into two robots, beheading one and knocking the other to its knees.
Izuku bursts towards the ground, driving his feet into the top of the robot's boxy head. He pierces it, digging a few meters into the mechanical guts, before pushing out the side. The robot is still moving, however. It tries to bat Izuku to the side, but he's much too fast. Diving under the arm and dashing towards the feet, Izuku pulls himself upward. He punches through the chest of the machine in one fluid motion, taking pride in the sound the bot makes as it hits the ground.
"Trying to show off, huh?" Nejire whizzes to his side, practically vibrating with excitement even though she's covered in sweat.
"You said you wanted some fun," Izuku says, gesturing to the carnage below them. "There you go."
Nejire laughs. "You killed three giant robots all for me? How romantic."
Izuku smiles. "Yeah. All of that was totally for you."
"Mmkay. Well, I guess I better start knocking down a few, just so we're even."
Izuku raises an eyebrow. "You think you can match the three I've already gotten?"
"You think I can't?"
"I think I wanna find out."
"You're on!"
They dive down together, spinning back to back. A helix forms, half lightning, half golden spirals. The robot they hit is utterly pulverized, its armor and gears weak in the face of a hundred percent of Nejire's power and forty-five percent of Izuku's.
There's so much shrapnel that Izuku has to grab some of it with Blackwhip, or else run the risk of getting one of his friends impaled. He chucks the shards of metal into another robot, and they dig deep into its armor. Izuku then rushes it head-on, cocking his leg back like he's going to try and kick its head right off. The robot's hands start to move up, looking to block. Izuku sharply tucks into a dive, and the robot jerks as though surprised. He dashes between its legs, landing on the ground feet first before pushing off with his fist raised. He spins like a drill, cutting through the underside of the massive machine. He continues to push even when he feels it start to fall, ignoring the way metal scratches at his skin and rips his clothes.
The sky greets him as he rips through the final layers of metal. Izuku flips, letting Float take him. He smiles, finds a new target, and zips to it. Blackwhip easily wraps around the machine's neck. Like an anaconda, it constricts, crushing the robot's nonexistent windpipe. The head starts to lean to one side, and Izuku kicks it. It falls off, crashing into the ground beside other bits of robot. The body continues to move, almost hobbling on its feet. Izuku dives through its chest cavity and watches it collapse, keeping an eye out to make sure his friends don't get caught up in the damage.
Izuku takes down seven by the time everything is over. It's technically six and a half, but Nejire insists that the one they hit together fell exclusively to her, and Izuku can't bring her to a compromise. So he claimed he got the full seven and that she got two. It leads to petty bickering but also a kiss on the cheek, so he can't complain.
The bottom of the arena starts to rise once they've finished. Hundreds of thousands of kilos are pushed up, shaking and shifting the whole way. Everything locks into place once they reach the top. From Izuku's point of view, everything looks like the aftermath of a robotic gladiatorial match.
"You may fly up to the press box," Nedzu's voice echoes through the stadium. In the stark emptiness, it ricochets off the walls and amplifies due to the shake of the stands.
"Izuku, you've got us?" Mirio asks, slipping into a pair of gym pants.
"Sure." Izuku snatches Tamaki and Mirio up with Blackwhip and looks to Nejire.
"You, uh… might want to put on some pants."
Izuku looks down and realizes that his gym uniform is gone, leaving just his compressions. Even his shoes are gone. "Where… where am I going to get pants?"
"Oh, you poor fool," Mirio says.
"Please don't," Tamaki mumbles.
"It's too late. You should really learn to keep a spare pair with you at all times—that way, you can change… on the fly."
Izuku blinks. "I don't get it."
"Good," Nejire says, smiling like she's trying not to laugh, "because it's really stupid."
"Oh, come on, that was a good one!"
"No, it wasn't."
Izuku ends up having to fly without actual clothes. It's not bad or painful, just embarrassing and weird. One for All keeps him plenty warm, which is good. But Mirio cracks awful puns the whole way up, which is bad. They all get there in less than a minute, and somehow Izuku hears six different jokes about missing pants.
"Good work, young man," All—Toshinori greets. It's Toshinori from now until he puts his costume back on, even if his surgery is scheduled for next week. Izuku catches Nedzu's eye and nods, and then tries not to look at Aizawa because he's not hiding his suspicion at all. "Of course the rest of you did amazing as well. And, uh… Izuku, you should find some clothes."
"Yeah, I. Yeah," Izuku says, and suddenly the room feels ten times more awkward.
"Thank you, sir," Mirio says, trying to cut the tension. "I hope we didn't scare you away from working at UA."
Toshinori laughs from his seat between Nedzu and Aizawa. "That could never happen. This is my old school, you know. I'd be happy to give back."
"So you're hired, then?" Izuku asks hopefully.
Toshinori smiles. "Well, not technically. I still have to deliver my critique."
"I've already received it," Nedzu says. "It will be evaluated over the coming week, and the board will make their call. But I'm sure he'll get approved. He's one of the best in the business, after all."
"Cool. Can we hear your thoughts?" Nejire asks.
"No," Aizawa answers before anyone else can. "He's not employed by UA and, while he has experience training heroes, we are unsure of the quality of his analysis at this time. Should he be accepted as a teacher here, then you will be allowed to hear from him. For now, however, you'll have to wait."
Izuku and his friends seem to slump at that. Partly because getting a new insight on their fighting styles would be beneficial but mostly because talking about beating up giant robots is almost as fun as beating up giant robots.
"There's no need to be so harsh, Aizawa," Nedzu chuckles. "You all did wonderful today, though I'll admit our little challenge favored the… well, calling you brutes is rude, but that was what you were today."
Izuku feels his cheeks redden. "It was the easiest and simplest option."
"And the funnest," Nejire adds.
"Indeed. There's no shame in playing to your strengths." Nedzu checks his watch. "You're all free for the day. You may pick up work if you desire, but most assignments for today will be waived because you were helping us with this. Bye!"
The four of them walk out of the press box, waving to Nedzu and the teachers as they start down the stairs. "You'll talk to that blond guy about how we did, right?" Nejire asks, lacing her fingers in Izuku's.
"Definitely," Izuku says. "I fully expected you to ask, actually, but I would've talked to him and gotten his thoughts even if you hadn't."
"He's got you figured out, there, huh?" Mirio teases. "He's practically a mind reader. Pretty soon, you'll be finishing each other's…" He looks at Tamaki, who blinks and stares back blankly.
"Huh?"
Nejire snickers. "Swing and a miss. Maybe the childhood friend's bond doesn't count if you meet after preschool."
"Shush, you," Mirio says, holding out a hand with finger raised. "No teasing before noon on weekdays."
"That's not a rule."
"It really isn't," Izuku agrees. "I mean, you broke the rule you just made up, like, twenty seconds ago."
"Yeah," Mirio says, "but that was before I made the rule."
"That's not how it works."
"Sure it is."
"Whatever, bicker another time," Nejire interrupts. "What're you guys gonna do with the time off?"
"Spar, maybe put in a few more hours at the agency," Mirio says. "Actually, Tamaki, do you wanna go a few rounds? Just so we actually get to fight instead of playing tag with real-life mecha-anime robots?"
"Fine with me," Tamaki says. "I'll probably go into work a little early, too."
"Nice. Dinner after we get off?"
"Sure."
"I'm gonna hit up the support lab, probably," Izuku thinks out loud. "My costume is fine, I think, but I have a feeling it'll change once I start going on patrol again. Actually, I'll see if I can get a version that's more fireproof, just because. You know."
"Yeah, you're a big shot now," Nejire says, shifting closer to Izuku and grabbing the crook of his arm with her hands. "Learning from number three and number two in the same year. No need to act humble in front of us, huh?"
"You're with Ryukyu. She's going to crack the top ten next year," Izuku points out. "Also, Tamaki spent some time with Best Jeanist."
"It was awful."
"But you made it through and learned a lot," Mirio says, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders. "Not all bad, right?"
"I guess."
"Anyways, we all fought All Might, too," Izuku says. "That's… we're all amazing. Just because I get to work for who's probably the strongest person in Japan right now and fight a bunch of his sidekicks doesn't make any of you guys worse than me."
"We know, dummy," Nejire says, gently poking Izuku on the cheek. "I'm just really happy for you. It's gonna be great."
"Yeah."
They reach the bottom of the steps and walk out the doors of the press box. They wind up outside in the cool fall air. Mirio and Tamaki walk off towards the school to spar, but Izuku slips back inside. Nejire follows. "Not going to make for the lockers and change?" she asks.
"No. I'll let them have some time and then I'll hunt down something. I should've just worn my uniform," Izuku admits, "but I… I didn't feel like putting on the tie."
"You're such a delinquent sometimes." Nejire steps in front of him, grabs his right hand with her left, and spins. She takes a half-step back, pushing her back into his chest and taking his hands. "It's kinda cute. Midoriya Izuku: troublemaker."
"I'm not that bad," Izuku says, resting his chin on her head. "I just… look, I don't want to break the rules. I just happen to run into a lot of situations where I kinda have to."
"I know," Nejire says, pushing back a little to playfully try and knock him off balance. Izuku, however, is much too strong to budge. "Still cute, though—the little stuff I mean. Not the…"
"I understand."
"Thanks. It's just—you're so nice and sweet, and then you rip out a robot's heart and we all kinda go, 'Oh. That's right, he can do that stuff.' I like it."
Izuku smiles. "Yeah, I surprise myself a lot. It's weird being so strong, you know? But I'm happy I've got this power. It means I can save more people."
Nejire nods, her long, blue hair brushing against her skin. She shifts, leaning to one side and twisting to look up. Izuku keeps hold of her, looking down. "I love you," she says.
"Love you, too." She juts her chin out and Izuku leans down.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Izuku nearly throws Nejire away, jumping up half a foot, pulling her up with him a little. "Toshinori! Hi."
All Might chuckles into his fist, holding out a stack of neatly folded clothes. "Sorry, my boy. But you should probably get dressed. I would also like to talk with you."
"Sure," Izuku says, taking the gym uniform from All Might. He can tell it's a little loose, but it's better than nothing. "What about?"
"Private matters," All Might says, looking right at Nejire. He doesn't do so unkindly, but he makes sure that they both know that she shouldn't be here.
"I'll get going," Nejire says, watching Izuku get dressed before glancing at the door.
"Yeah." Izuku straightens his jacket and zips it up. "Do you wanna find a sparring room? I don't think our conversation will take long, and we're free all day."
Nejire shakes her head. "Sorry. I gotta go into the agency early today. I've got therapy tonight. How about a date Friday night?"
"Not Friday, but Saturday would be great. I've gotta go in for Endeavor after school at the end of the week, and I don't know how long I'll be there for or how tired I'll be when I'm done."
"Saturday, then," Nejire says. She leans in and stands on her toes to kiss him on the lips. "I'll text you about it later. See you tomorrow!"
"Bye."
He watches her go, smiling warmly at the door. After a moment he turns to All Might, who looks contemplative. "I'm glad to see that you're still happy, even if he's still out there."
"I told you before that letting him rule my life with fear would be letting him win," Izuku says. "The last thing I want is for him to claim victory in any way. So I'll keep smiling and finding joy, even if I'm scared."
"If you can bear it, you're not afraid," All Might says. "Nana told me that, once. I'm so, so proud of you and how far you've come."
"You tell me all the time," Izuku says with a smile. "I don't think I could ever forget, either."
"Good." All Might slips his hands into the pockets of his well-fitted suit. In the previous week or so, he's been dressing and eating better, putting on a few pounds as he rests. His cheeks are fuller, though he still has that skeletal look. "He's making moves."
"I thought that was obvious?"
All Might shakes his head. "Not like we knew before. He's alive, yes, and no doubt crawling around like a scavenger, trying to reclaim bits of his empire. But we have concrete evidence that he has people, and he has some kind of plan."
"What happened?"
"There was a raid on a prison transport. One person, working solo. They kidnapped that villain you fought on the highway, getting away from police and heroes alike. No deaths, but heavy casualties."
"How do we know it's him?"
"Tsukauchi has ears in the underground. Not many, or ones that are reliable, but enough to pick up on who makes a grab for what. With transport raids, it's usually gangs and Yakuza getting their members back, or a family member freeing their kin. That villain was unaffiliated with any gang, had no living family, and his Quirk was of high interest."
"He's trying to improve those things. Like the one that got into my head, but big and strong. Not an assassin or torture specialist—a super-soldier."
"Indeed."
"But that's a good thing, sort of." Izuku slumps against the wall and thinks. "If he's trying to replicate himself with other multi-Quirked monsters, then he's not confident in his own abilities. If I had to guess, he's wary of taking you in a head-on fight again. Maybe. Maybe it's the same with me, even though I'm much weaker than you are right now. He's trying to spread his resources out. It makes him easier to fight, but it makes his supporters more dangerous."
"Killing the man himself is the most important. Mopping up his subordinates will be easier once they're without a leader."
"Yeah. I… Should we be worried about an attack? Since you're taking time off."
"Not as much as you think. He… All for One is a sadist when it comes to the people he hates, and I am perhaps the one he hates most. If I had to guess, he would try and make a mockery of me. Wait until I'm fully healed to strike and then break me for all the world to see. There'd be mind games, disgusting tactics, and more than one villainous monologue."
"That's…"
"Grim. Scary. Nightmare-inducing." All Might shrugs. "I've dealt with it before, you know—back then. It was hard, and I am older now. But he is weaker, and I have you. When the time comes, we'll do it together."
Izuku smiles. "Together."
They eat lunch together in the cafeteria, talking about school stories. They don't once consider that a rather tired man heard every word they said.
[x]
Friday comes more quickly than Izuku expected. It feels like he blinks and appears at the doors of the agency, ready to walk in. It's just as tall and imposing as the last time he was there, but when he steps through the door, he finds that the lobby is completely empty. The secretary at the front desk is an actual secretary this time, not a hero. They recognize Izuku immediately and send him upstairs. The elevator ride up is quick, and Izuku knocks on the doors to Endeavor's office.
"Enter."
Izuku does, dipping his head in a slight bow to Endeavor, who's in full costume. "Thank you for having me," he says. The man huffs in return and picks up a package on his desk.
"Put these on when you change," he orders, tossing the package to Izuku. He studies the items inside, finding that they look like bandaids, but not quite.
"What are they?"
"Energy monitors," Endeavor says, stepping out from behind his desk. "Follow the instructions on the paper inside. They'll measure your Quirk and send data to one of my computers. Hurry."
Izuku changes in the lockers again, but this time he has to stick the things in the package to his skin. One goes over his heart, another halfway down his spine, one on each arm, and one on each thigh. His costume goes on over, and he makes his way to a different section of the building. Unlike the last room he used for sparing, this one is boxed in completely. There's just one door and an air vent—no windows—though there's plenty of security cameras.
Endeavor stands in the middle of the floor, solid like a statue. He stares as Izuku walks in, almost sizing him up even though he's seen him fight plenty of times. "Limit yourself to thirty percent this time," Endeavor orders. "That's how you keep track of your power output, correct?"
"Yes," Izuku says, "it's like an engine, almost. It has the fuel; I just regulate how much it pumps in."
"I read your description," Endeavor grunts, "I understand how your power works. It's not that dissimilar to mine."
"Re—"
Izuku ducks under a flaming fist, bending backwards to stand on his hands. He drives his legs into Endeavor's chest, forcing the man back even if the contact is brief. Izuku rights himself, lowering his stance. One for All pokes against his skin. It knows he's lost to the man before him, and it doesn't like that one bit.
"Well?" Endeavor says, throwing a wave of flames at the floor to punctuate his words. "Are you going to stand there? I am a villain, strong and deadly. But this is an unstable building where your full power is a hindrance. Bring me down!"
Izuku slips his goggles on and charges. Float pushes him through the air, and he puts no pressure on the ground. Blackwhip races in front of him, wrapping around Endeavor's limbs. Izuku dashes closer, aiming a punch right at the head but intending to flip over and kick the man in the back. A wall of flames stops him, a brilliant orange and white. It's far from solid, and Izuku and his suit are somewhat fireproof. But Endeavor's flames are hot. They burn the fabric of Izuku's goggles away, causing them to fall to the ground. His eyes are exposed to the raw heat, and he backs off. All of that in just two seconds.
Izuku slides to a stop on the ground, flicking a few fireballs aside with air blasts. He has to be careful with his strength. If he misses and hits the walls, he'll lose before even getting a hit in. He rushes again, four whips poking from his back. Endeavor meets him in the middle, propelled by flame. Fire swells as they clash, Endeavor reading the feint and blasting Izuku in the chest. Izuku rolls out of the way, keeping the pressure up. He goes low, kicking at the man's knees. Another massive burst of flame forces his retreat, but Izuku doesn't let Endeavor drive him away for free.
Wrapping one of Endeavor's angles in Blackwhip, Izuku pulls. Endeavor throws a bolt of white-hot fire at him, but Izuku dodges. Endeavor's body moves with him, jerking and twisting mid-air. More fire spews. It scorches the floor and Izuku's costume. He creates some more distance, giving himself more time to react to attacks. Once he feels safe enough, Izuku throws both of his hands out. Strands shoot from his fingers and arms, wrapping Endeavor up from the neck down.
Cautiously, Izuku lowers the man to the floor. He slowly approaches, keeping the grip tight. "Did—"
Fire roars. Izuku shields himself with Blackwhip, but not before his face is thoroughly singed. He dives forward, tackling Endeavor before a second hit can come. This time, he fights blind. Lashing out as wildly as he dares, he snatches the man up. "That's all for now."
Izuku lets the whips dissipate, One for All shutting off in his skin. He looks at Endeavor, who stands tall despite a few bruises. "What now?"
"Evaluate yourself."
"I should've led with the suit of armor. I also should've tried to end it sooner."
"Good. You're not an idiot." Izuku feels a little bit of frustration build as Endeavor looks him over. "You fight too fancily."
"What?" Izuku asks. "I've been told that before, but way early in the year. I don't anymore. I do my best to not waste movement, and I try to keep on the offensive."
"Yes. But you don't start with the best attack. Even in that All Might video or the fight from the highway, you didn't start off with a strong enough hit. Why?"
"I have to feel them out first," Izuku says, feeling that he's explaining a really simple concept. "I'm too strong to just hit someone with everything. They could die if I do. I have to be careful."
"That mindset will get people killed," Endeavor says. "Do you have any idea what causes the most deaths in villain attacks every year?"
"… I don't think I do."
"It's showboaters and flashy idiots trying to look good for the camera," Endeavor spits. "Most schools pump out borderline narcissistic teenagers with licenses to use their powers to get popular. Those idiots end up dragging out fights. Why?"
"More screen time," Izuku answers. "All Might ends most of his battles in one hit, but that's because he's All Might. Other heroes have to work to get popular."
"Yes. But do you give a damn about that?"
"No."
"Good. You belong here." Endeavor starts to walk out of the room, his long strides forcing Izuku to half jog to keep up. "Do you know the story of the first world war?"
"Vaguely," Izuku says. "Um. In the early twentieth century, everything was really unstable and stuff. There were a lot of big countries who wanted more and smaller countries that didn't want to be controlled. Someone killed a duke, and it spiraled out of control."
"Good enough. In the early stages of that war, every general thought they'd be home before Christmas. But Christmas came and they were still fighting, dying in the mud by the thousands. That war dragged on for four years. The second world war lasted six. They both claimed millions of lives. And yet, do you know how many died in the early months of both?"
"No."
"Fractions of what was to come." Endeavor pushes through the locker room door and gets on an already-open elevator. "A quick fight is ideal. Everyone wants one. Do you know why?"
"Because fighting isn't good?" Izuku tries.
"No. Because the longer you fight, the bloodier it will get." The elevator starts to descend, the city street rapidly approaching. "Statistically speaking, the longer a villain fight lasts, the more damage will be done. It's been proven time and time again. Do you want to risk the lives and livelihoods of innocents?"
"No," Izuku says firmly.
"Then you will learn to end every fight in a single hit." The flames of Endeavor's beard swell, warming the elevator car. "Efficiency is the key to everything. The faster you can end a fight, the faster people are safe. Nothing else matters. Understand?"
"Yeah, but I can't just start knocking villains down with forty-five percent!" Izuku exclaims as the elevator stops. The doors open and Endeavor walks out to a floor of cubicles and computers. "The human body can't take that level of power! I need to be careful and figure out what needs to be done."
"That is what those monitors were for." Endeavor turns around a corner and snatches a stack of papers off a nearby printer. Office workers around them cower at the sight of the man in full gear. The papers are thrust into Izuku's hands, and they start to walk again. "You will be drilling for three hours a day."
"I already have school combat training."
"Yes. Combat training, not drilling. How often do you practice your supermoves?"
"I get them down as good as I can and then do dry runs a few times a month," Izuku says.
"That is unacceptable. Follow that plan to the letter and maybe I'll consider you up to snuff."
"You want me to practice my simplest moves for hours," Izuku says, flipping through the papers. "I… and then you want me to meditate for forty minutes? I'm not against more training, but this seems a little… condescending."
"Wipe that idea from your brain, boy," Endeavor says, opening a door to an office. "Practicing the basics is fundamental for people like us. Each and every movement you make must be like breathing. Instinctual. Easy. Mindless. It's like learning to drive a car or play a sport. First, you get one aspect down, and then add another. You continue until the entire complex exercise feels like you've been doing it for years."
"That still doesn't explain how I'll be able to end every fight in one hit without risking injury."
"That's what those monitors are going to tell you. They kept track of you during our brief fight. They'll give you exact readings on what's safe to use on who. Everything else will come from in-field experience."
"Fine," Izuku agrees, "I'll do this. When's my first patrol?"
"Next week, when you've improved greatly."
"I—"
"You're already good enough," Endeavor interrupts. "Amazing, even. But you don't want to be just good enough or just amazing. You want to be perfect. Right now, you could walk out and get hired by any agency, even some of the top ten ones. But you're here. With me. Because you want to be like me. This is what I did, starting third year at UA and continuing to today. You will do the same, and you will improve."
Izuku nods stiffly. "Yes, sir."
Endeavor's eyes gleam, but Izuku can't catch exactly how the man feels. He watches as his new teacher takes a half step into the office and yells, "Shoto! Out. You have a new companion. Make sure he doesn't get lost on the way to his practice room."
Izuku stands there, lost as Endeavor marches to a window, opens it with one hand, and jumps out. He looks into the office, where a stoic boy with split-colored hair sits in a chair, feet on the desk. A bowl of cold noodles sits in his lap. "My father's a bastard," he says, lifting the bowl to his lips and slurping up some noodles.
Izuku, who has no clue what to do in a situation like this, tries to be as friendly and relatable as possible. "Yeah, same."
Chapter 64: Shifting Perspectives
"So, uh… Endeavor, huh?" Izuku taps his foot on the floor, tense as a brick. The boy—Shoto, he reminds himself—calmly eats his soba and stares at him blankly. The boy's mismatched hair covers part of his face, the shadow just barely obscuring his left eye. But Izuku can still make out the splotchy red of an angry burn scar there, and he finds himself thinking that it's a miracle that the guy can still see with it. His mind starts to wander, but before it goes too far, he reigns himself back in. "He's not the nicest guy to talk to, I guess."
Shoto doesn't reply. Instead, he sets his bowl down and stands. He's dressed like an athlete, with fitted sweats and a tight yet comfy-looking shirt. It's something Izuku would wear when he lifts or goes on a run. Shoto's probably training with his father, or at least training at the agency. It makes sense that Endeavor would want to help his son grow, though maybe Shoto isn't on the same page. The boy's emotionless expression and overall muted demeanor gives it away.
"Uh. How long have you been training?" Izuku asks, trying to be casual. Shoto starts to walk out of the room, navigating the floor of office people with practiced ease.
"Since I got my Quirk."
"Yeah, I've wanted to be a hero for forever too," Izuku says, hurrying to follow. "You must be really dedicated."
"No."
"Oh. Not sure about what you want?" Izuku asks, following Shoto around a corner and to a different set of elevators.
"Yes."
"Oh. Okay. I guess it's kinda usual to have second thoughts," Izuku says, stepping into an elevator beside Shoto. "But I'm sure your dad wants you to follow in his footsteps."
"No."
"N… no?" Izuku tries to catch Shoto's eye. The other boy looks away, giving him the cold shoulder.
"No."
"I…" Izuku shuts his mouth, unsure and uncomfortable. "I hope you get what you want?"
Shoto hums and continues to ignore him. Izuku tries to distract himself with the view of the city below, but the lack of elevator music makes it impossible. The silence is too strong, too stiflingly in his face that he can't help but feel jumpy. Would it kill the guy to not act so standoffish? He's not blaming Shoto for being quiet. Tamaki's quiet. Izuku likes Tamaki. Shoto just feels… off. Like he's separate from the world as a whole, and in a pretty bad way.
"My father's a bastard," Shoto says as the elevator stops and opens.
"You said that already." Izuku follows him out and into a long, broad hallway made of concrete. Shoto grunts in affirmation, and Izuku is left scratching his head. "Oh!" he says after a moment, "um. Yeah, my dad's not the best either. Actually, he's not around. Actually, he might be dead. Er, he's… I'm going to stop talking now."
"Okay."
They walk down the hallway in silence. Izuku keeps track of all the doors they pass, each one made of steel and clearly a few centimeters thick. At the end of the hall, there are two doors. One reads Endeavor and the other reads Shoto.
"I'm going to train. Just pick a room and keep busy until he comes to get us."
"When will that be?" Izuku asks. Shoto shrugs and opens the latch on his door, leaving Izuku in the hallway alone. "Thanks for the help," he sighs, taking a few strides over to a different door. He picks the latch up and pushes it open, finding that it's surprisingly light.
Inside the door is a largeish room with nothing in it. Everything is a matte grey, lacking the sheen the rest of the building seems to have. There are no lights, but there also isn't an ounce of darkness in the room. Everything seems to just glow uncannily. Izuku sets his stack of papers on the floor and walks around. The floors aren't metallic or stone. They almost feel like plastic, which doesn't make sense. This is a fire-based agency. Why would plastic be the material of choice?
Carefully, he pours One for All into his leg. Izuku stomps on the ground, and his foot nearly bounces back. The floor holds strong. He stomps again with forty perfect. It cracks a little, but the line doesn't spread too far. Satisfied, Izuku snatches his papers back up, sits against a wall, and reads. He concludes that Endeavor is a madman.
He knew that it would help a lot from his brief skim. He expected to spend a lot of time on the basics, but he's supposed to spend upwards of four hours alone, just turning his Quirk off and on for a good chunk of it. The plan has a few exercises, but they're all boring. Jump at a low power level, turn it off mid-air, land without it, one details. No contact should be made with the ceiling, alternating between vertical and lateral jumps.
The meditation is also pretty boring, and it isn't even technically meditation. He's supposed to just hold his Quirk steady. First, the plan tells him to start at the lowest output he can and work up in even increments, holding at each one until he's at his max. Then, he has to work back down before jumping up in bigger increments and going back down again. Each time—because he's supposed to do five sets—the jumps get bigger. And then he has to hold at five percent, ten percent, twenty percent, forty percent, eighty percent, and as high as he can go for as long as he can. Never mind the fact that Izuku's never tried to feel out power levels that high, doesn't Endeavor know he can hold onto five percent indefinitely?
Frustrated, Izuku puts the papers aside. He stands and stretches. One for All flares to life. He'll warm up a little before trying what Endeavor wants him to do, and if it gets too boring, he'll take a break. He won't make it through otherwise. He's decently good at focusing, sure, but that level of dullness and time is something different.
Izuku's still plenty warm from his brief spar with Endeavor, though there's some lingering stiffness in his thighs. He jogs a little, just to get his blood pumping; does a few quick stretches and runs through a few punches and kicks. Once he feels ready to go, he lights up the room and bounces. There's no pattern to it. He jumps from one wall to another, occasionally jerking around mid-air. He gradually ramps up the speed until he's at his max, and freezes to a stop. His blood rushes, but his mind feels clear. Calm. Grudgingly, he looks over to the stack of papers.
First up is the meditation that's not really meditation. Izuku sits on the floor, legs crossed and arms resting on his knees. He keeps his back straight, looking directly ahead. He closes his eyes and breathes. He reaches, and the power takes his body. It's there, floating around gleefully.
But Izuku doesn't try to restrict or use it. He lets One for All do its thing, feeling the pushes and pulls of its consciousness. The vast ocean of power rises and falls inside of him, currents swirling about and tides shaping the water. It feels familiar—safe—no matter how massive.
Tenderly, he reaches out and touches the ocean. Molding it with his hands, he takes just a tiny drop. One percent of the water. He lets it sit inside of him, spreading out aimlessly. After a moment, he takes some more. Two percent. He lets that sit for a moment, feeling the power in his flesh and bones. He takes more and more, gradually working upward. He hits his safe limit after a while, forty-five percent sitting comfortably in his gut.
He reaches for more, adding power to his body. As he reaches sixty percent, his body starts to feel full. Eighty makes him feel like he's bursting at the seams, the sheer scale of the energy too much for any normal being to handle. But he presses on, pouring the entire ocean into his body. He holds it, for just the barest moment. But he has to let it go or risk hurting himself.
Izuku relaxes and opens his eyes. His body feels tired and sore. He looks around at the room. The walls, ceiling, and floor are cracked. Bits of the plastic material are scattered on the floor like glass, sharp and almost camouflaged against the stuff that still holds. Carefully, Izuku tests the floor with a kick. The pieces jump, but the room holds. The ceiling doesn't want to collapse in. Gingerly, Izuku relaxes. Danger Sense flows through his mind, aware of the small bits of plastic that could cut him. It doesn't detect anything else. With nothing better to do, he starts the second round of jumps.
He goes up by fives. Then tens. Then fifteens, then twenties. He skips over twenty-fives to go right to fifties. Each time, he gets a little more sore, but the ocean feels easier to contain. It's always been his, ever since he ate that hair. But after holding it all for just a few brief periods, it doesn't feel as vast. It's not as impossibly powerful. It's just his, and he's not anything too grand. The end result is almost scary, in a way. So much power, and he's looking at it like it's nothing special, even though it certainly is.
Izuku decides to move on before he can think too hard about it. He lets a steady flow of five percent into his body and sits. For a while, everything is fine. One for All pulses happily, enjoying the small exercise it gets from being used. But sitting there doing nothing starts to chip at his focus. There's just so much he could be doing. Flying, fighting, practicing for real. But he's stuck here, holding a tiny ember in his hands. It's warm and interesting, but it pales in comparison to the majesty of the full power that he longs to feel. Mind wandering, he thinks of his friends and how they trained in the past. He thinks of everyone he's saved, and how their lives might be going. He doesn't realize that the power has crept up to ten percent until his mind wanders back to what he's doing at the moment.
He severs his connection to the power immediately, letting go of the warmth. He rests for a moment, regaining his bearings. One for All is like a fire almost as much as it's like an ocean, he supposes. There's the ebb and flow, and the crashing of waves. But water doesn't feed and grow. It doesn't really have a heart or life. Fire does, in a way. It needs fuel, like One for All needs his body to be activated. It's strange to feel a second heartbeat beside his own, but he's felt it for months now. It's a friend rather than a stranger. Bright and familiar like a campfire. He activates it again, feeling the power. He corrals it down to ten percent, squeezes his eyes tight, and holds.
It's a little easier to focus this time, since there's more volume to control. Even then, it's still boring to sit and hold. His mind itches to delve into the depths of One for All. The Quirk is pure living energy, passed down to him. It's his and his alone. He doesn't want to sit around and do nothing with it. He doesn't need to feel out how ten percent feels. The lower percentages are practically ingrained in his mind since he uses them so much. And One for All itself tugs at him, pulling him inward. It's bored too. It doesn't particularly hate being on and inactive, but it knows what Izuku wants to do.
Again, he starts to slip out of focus. The power goes from rigidly defined to blurry. His mind dulls, and the steady movement of the Quirk lulls him into a sort of trance. He feels less and less attached to his body, gradually letting the Quirk take him. He sees light, even with his closed eyes. Green and red and yellow and purple swirl together. Oddly, he catches a whiff of old books and cinnamon. And then the voices start.
He… can't tell what's being said. Not in the slightest. But the voices are familiar. Friendly, too. He knows he can trust them, even if their words are warbled and unintelligible. He compares it to hearing a song in another language. The feeling, soul, and mood are all there, but the real meaning is lost entirely. He feels longing in the noise, sorrow and grief close companions to it. There's an air of melancholy and a very present what-if. Yet there's hope. Joy, too. He can tell that whoever is speaking smiles as they do.
Izuku pulls himself back when he feels a hand rake through his hair. He jumps, almost crashing into the ceiling. But he's alone. Danger Sense confirms it, or at least that he's still safe. His heart thumps in his chest, stirring his blood up in a frenzy of adrenaline. Swallowing, he sits back down. He feels tired, mentally. There's soreness in his muscles, too, and there's weight behind his eyes, and he feels sluggish. His thoughts are a tangled mess, and the room spins around him. It feels like gravity's been flipped, or maybe tied in knots around the room. Nothing feels real. Nothing feels right. Izuku starts to feel himself slip back in, seeking the safety of the voices. But he holds, and forces himself to stand.
His hands clutch at the necklace under his costume. He pulls off a glove and fishes it out, tracing the lines of the lightning bolt with his fingers. The metal is warm from contact with his skin, and the heat seems to alleviate the unevenness of the world. Things stop twisting and turning, settling at the right angles. Izuku blinks and takes a few deep breaths. His first instinct is to write everything down, but he can't. Not in a place like this. Endeavor takes security seriously, sure, but it's nothing like the bunkers under U.A. So Izuku ignores the way his pencil and notepad burn in his pocket and grabs the papers detailing his training. He skips over the rest of the medication and takes a look at the first real exercise. He stands, puts his glove back on, and gets to work.
Endeavor finds him down there hours later, sweaty and exhausted. Izuku didn't mean to start working harder than he was supposed to; it just sort of happened. He blames the fact that repeating the same moves over and over starts to grate against his mind after a while, and, well, when that happens, he needs to work the kinks out. Endeavor seems to know this and doesn't act mad, though Izuku can't shake the feeling that the man is somewhat frustrated.
"Do you have any idea how strong this room is?"
"No?"
The flames of Endeavor's beard swell, and the man raises a fist. Izuku watches a fire ignite and burn. He watches as it soars past red and orange, pausing on yellow before stopping at a cobalt blue. With a grunt of effort, Endeavor hurls the fire at the wall to his right. Izuku can feel the entire room heat up a few degrees, and the force of the fire hitting the wall creates a strong gust of wind. Yet the wall is barely scuffed—other than the damage Izuku did hours earlier, meditating.
"Ah."
Endeavor scoffs. "You're shocked at the level of your own strength. Disgusting."
Izuku winces. "I know it's bad that I don't know how strong I am, but I hold back all the time! It's safer that way. I'm here to correct that."
"Did you even read the report on your strength?"
"Yes, but it wasn't anything I didn't know before. Approximately fifteen percent is the rough limit for the average human body to handle."
"Listen to yourself. 'Approximately', 'rough'. That is no good for what we're doing here. Throw a punch at ten percent, now."
Izuku nods and cocks a fist back. One for All pours into his arm, and he punches.
"Again, but harder."
"What?"
Endeavor glares. "What is UA teaching kids these days?" From his tone, Izuku can tell the question is rhetorical. He doesn't answer, so Endeavor makes another flame in his hands—a beautiful cherry red. "This is currently burning at exactly nine-hundred-fifty degrees Celsius. Watch." He effortlessly throws the flame at the wall. Nothing substantial happens. Endeavor lights another flame but throws it too quickly for Izuku to properly pick up on the color. There's a smack and a roar. Izuku feels a warm gust of wind. "How hot was that?"
"About fifteen hundred degrees?" he estimates.
"Wrong. They were the same temperature."
"How?"
"Your Quirk and mine are like gunpowder. Potential energy. How much power is put in the charge determines the yield of the blast. But the shape of the charge also matters. What makes things explode?"
"It's in the name," Izuku says. "Expansion, right?"
"Yes. The heat makes the air expand outward, creating energy. But the same amount of power doesn't always yield the same amount of energy. How?"
"Well, there's environmental conditions. If it's humid or cold, the blast won't be as powerful."
"Wrong answer. The shape of the charge is more important."
Izuku cocks his head. "How?"
"When you're laying in bed, how much do you want to move?"
"Not a lot?"
"What about if you were trapped inside of a one-meter square box?"
"I'd really want to get out."
"There you have it."
"What?"
"The tighter an object is packed, the more force it will exert trying to expand," Endeavor says, bringing his hands together. "Gunpowder in a line or small pile doesn't do much more than fizzle out. But packed in barrels, it can bring down buildings and sink ships."
"Okay," Izuku says, understanding a little, "but how does this relate to my Quirk?"
Endeavor holds out a palm. "Punch, no Quirk." Izuku does, making sure his form is as clean as possible. "Harder." Izuku repeats the process, putting a little more force into the strike. "Do the same thing again, but with one percent activated." Izuku obeys. On the first hit, Endeavor doesn't budge. On the second, he stumbles back.
Izuku watches him nearly fall, at a loss. "How…"
"Your percentages are like the kilos of gunpowder," Endeavor says, "and how much effort you put into your attacks is how tightly you pack it."
"Effort," Izuku says, still not quite grasping it.
"You hardly ever lift the maximum weight you can," Endeavor says, "but that doesn't mean you don't have the strength to do so."
"Oh," Izuku says. "I… okay. Okay, I think I get it. I might be using fifteen or twenty percent Full Cowling, but the strength I put into the punches I throw determines the power."
"Yes. It's why you can pick up an egg without crushing it even if you could easily break the shell. This is a basic principle that you should've known from day one."
"I've only been able to use this much for a few months," Izuku defends. "When I got into UA, I was stuck at five."
"That's no excuse," Endeavor says, glaring down. "You have lightning in your veins, boy. Raw power the likes of which the world has only seen once before. And yet you have an elementary grasp on how to use it. Your focus is weak, and you treat it like some kind of dial for you to spin sloppily. Left unchecked, you could level a city. You already fried those energy readers. You damn near shattered this room just by sitting at your max. Those exercises I gave you weren't punishments. They are vitally important to your future as a hero. You must be able to balance on a knife's edge, perfectly in control. You must be ready to snap to full power in an instant, or let the power fizzle out. Most of all, you must know your own strength. Every half percentage must be ingrained in your mind or else one lapse in judgement could get someone killed."
Izuku looks up at the man, taking in the cold fury. The flames roar, scratching at his face. He pushes back with his lightning, feeling the power form in his gut, spread to his flesh, and leak out of his pores. He tastes copper, smells ozone, and feels his hair stand on end. The room brightens, and the green bolts scorch the floor.
"I understand."
If Endeavor is impressed, he doesn't show it. Instead, he takes a step back. "Walk through those exercises again under my direction. Study up on your power yields and percentages on your own time. You've wasted enough of mine already."
It stings a little to know that he's been doing something wrong for this long. But Izuku bears it. The sting is infinitely less painful than losing someone because of his own incompetence. It may be tedious and mind-numbing, but Endeavor doesn't hide the fact that it's what he did to become so strong. Izuku knows his power cap is above that of Endeavor—or anyone, really. Realistically speaking, he could carry himself on raw power alone, except for one fight.
Even if he's with All Might, Izuku doesn't want to bank on anything less than being as ready as possible for All for One. He's seen that scar. He's felt the pain it caused. He knows full well of All for One's callousness and horror. And if he's making more of those multi-Quirked things with the power of the villain Izuku beat on the highway, he'll need to be able to take them down, too. So he'll train. He'll forge his mind, body, and instincts into the hardest steel he can.
Precision, power, speed, and planning. Tossing an egg from hand to hand with Full Cowl on at forty-five percent might not feel like combat training, but it is. And it's just as important as all the weights he lifts and the miles he runs. So he lets Endeavor push him hard, and he completes every order to a T. By the end of it, he's exhausted, mind dull and muscles sore. But it's worth it. He can feel a closer connection with One for All, not emotional—he's been smiling with the Quirk the entire time he's been training—but rather physical. He can shape the ocean and grab the flames. He's not directing the power anymore. He's molding it to his will.
Izuku passes out that night without showering. He doesn't dream. He wakes up the next morning and reads the packet of information he got as he gets ready for school. He'll show Endeavor and everyone else how much he can improve. And when the time comes, he'll blow right past their expectations. For himself, and for One for All, but also for the people he'll protect when he's grown. For them, it's all or nothing.
Izuku's fire lasts until he looks Aizawa in the eye. Stepping foot into class, he trips over his own feet upon seeing the man looking well-rested and clean-shaven.
"Morning."
"Morning."
Izuku stares at his shoes for a moment, awkwardly chewing his lips. "Well, I'll be going!"
"All for One."
"Excuse me," Izuku says, forcing a smile. He tries to hold the man's gaze, but he has to look away. "Er, uh… what was that?"
"All for One."
"A… and One for All?" Izuku tries. "Y'know, like the three musketeers?"
Aizawa looks at him flatly. "I've been working in the underground longer than you've been alive. I only found out towards the tail end of his reign, but I know of him."
"Knew," Izuku corrects, and realizes his mistake.
"So you do know about him." Aizawa leans against the wall, cool and impassive. "Enough to know he's dead."
"Y-yeah."
"You're an awful liar."
Izuku winces. "No one's supposed to know."
"That's logical. If the HPSC knew or, god forbid, the general public, there'd be chaos." Aizawa narrows his eyes. "Nedzu knows. Yagi knows. I'm betting that Torino man knows, too."
"Tsukauchi as well," Izuku admits. "It's a very exclusive group, I guess." He laughs a little, nervous and on edge.
"Yes," Aizawa says, eyes drifting over to the door. "Come in, you're part of this too."
Izuku watches as a flushed All Might walks through the door. The man bows, straightening and keeping remarkably steady even though he's clearly nervous. His fitted suit hides his skinny limbs and makes him look just a little more full than he really is. "Perhaps we should get some tea?"
"How'd you sneak behind me?" Izuku asks.
"It doesn't matter," Aizawa says. "He's nosing around in his own business, anyways. Right, All Might?"
All Might coughs up blood, covering his mouth with a hand. Izuku fishes a towel out of his backpack and hands it to him. "How?"
"I'm not an idiot," Aizawa says, managing to make it sound like the only reason he needs. "Your hair, for one. Really, a toddler could figure it out. The fact that Nedzu hired you so easily, and the fact that you're two meters tall."
"But I'm so skinny?"
"Transformative Quirks exist."
"Yes, well…" All Might trails off. "Shit, okay. I'm All Might. But this mustn't leave this room."
Aizawa shrugs. "Fine. But back to All for One. You killed him, years ago."
"Thought I killed him. It… I was very thorough, and yet..."
"He's alive," Aizawa says. "Alive and unwell, but alive. You're trying to recover so you can battle him again, banking on the villain's pride and desire for a symbolic victory."
"Yes."
"But why Midoriya?"
"Ah, well…"
"He wants me to take his place," Izuku says. "He's… he'll be gone, eventually. All for One, too. But there are other evils. He wants someone he can trust to carry on his legacy."
Aizawa stares, long and hard. "You have his Quirk." Izuku feels the color drain from his face.
"It's not what you think!"
"Is it?" Aizawa looks at All Might. "You let him take it."
"Yes," All Might admits. "I—hold on, what?"
"You let him take your Quirk."
"I don't follow," All Might says, resting a hand on Izuku's shoulder, offering some comfort.
"Don't play dumb with me," Aizawa says, clearly peeved. "Multiple Quirks even though he has the extra pinky toe joint. No father on record. A meek and apologetic personality, which often stems from abuse. He's All for One's son."
Izuku's heart stops. He… he can almost see how one would think that. But Hisashi… "No!"
"You don't have to lie to me. I won't judge you by your blood. You've already proven to be a good person, dedicated to saving people."
"He's not my father!" Izuku cries, feeling the urge to vomit. Aizawa recoils like he's been burned. "He's… he's a bastard. He's killed so many people; he's hurt people that care for me. He is not my father! There's no proof!"
"I'm sorry," Aizawa says, rough and low. "That was out of line."
"Yes." All Might pulls Izuku closer, letting him rest his head against the silk of his suit. "I think it's best if we have a break and reconvene later."
"Alright. I just… I have a few questions."
"Make it quick."
"Did you find him or…"
"I saw him rush in to save a life at the cost of his own. I couldn't ignore him after that."
"So you didn't raise him on your own."
"Neither did All for One."
"Yet… never mind. You're not using him to get back at the man who ended your career, at least."
"I thought he was dead until a few weeks ago. And I would never use Izuku like that."
Aizawa nods and then hesitates, chewing on a new piece of info but hungering for more. Satisfied but curious, he asks, "How many?"
"Eight. He can't use them all; they're… locked."
"I understand. How?"
"How what?"
"You've both used the power at once, yet it's the same. How does that work?"
Izuku feels All Might shrug. "Quirks are weird. There are… vestiges of the past holders—memories and connections of those long past. What's to say he can't have one with someone who's still living?"
"I understand," Aizawa says. "Thank you. For explaining."
"Don't thank me. Thank him. It's his secret now. I'm just an old man. He calls all the shots."
"Not really," Izuku mumbles, pulling away and steadying himself. "You're still in charge. I just train and prepare to face him."
"It's brave of you to do that," Aizawa says. "I… I'm sorry for springing this on you. I should've thought ahead."
"Yeah, a little preparation time would've been nice," Izuku says, flashing a smile. "It's not every day that you… well, my life's already so weird that it's not completely out of left field."
"If you need help…"
"I know you're there. Just… ease up on the ambushes. I… I trust you; I just wasn't ready to share. I'm still not completely. If you want to know something, ask. I'll tell you if I can't answer."
"Fine." Aizawa stands up straight and rakes his hands through his hair. "You said Detective Tsukauchi knows?"
"Yeah."
The man nods. "I'm going to mess with him for this later. Nedzu, too."
All Might chuckles. "Good luck with that. The man is, how should I say... borderline omnipotent."
"Worth a shot, though," Izuku says.
"Yeah." Aizawa starts to leave, waving lazily as he does. "Don't die or do anything stupid. It's not exactly safe for you to be out and about, but I can't really stop you. Remember your training. Bye."
Izuku watches him leave and sits on a desk once he's gone. He looks All Might in the eye. "How traumatic was telling the truth?"
All Might blinks. "Considering I first had to convince people that my Quirk really was given to me and I wasn't some offshoot of All for One's line, who had a thing for stealing strength Quirks? Very."
"Wait. You don't mean…"
"This is far from the first time people have made the connection, even if it is incorrect in its details."
Izuku lets his shoulders slump. "At least what we told him wasn't total bullshit."
All Might's lips twitch up. "One day, Izuku, one day. For now? Enjoy the fact that he's not breathing down our necks anymore. I know I will."