Ryoma stood shakily , his outstretched hand pulsing with the green glow of his quirk.
His son's screams—, desperate, soaked in despair—echoed in his ears, each one a knife to his heart.
But he didn't turn back.
He couldn't.
Not now.
Ryoma's gaze locked onto All For One, the monster stirring amidst the rubble.
The villain's mangled body was a grotesque sight—one leg a bleeding stump, his face half-gone, a single eye dangling from its socket.
Flesh bubbled and knitted together, his quirk forcing life back into his broken form and ultimately failing due to overload.
That sneer, twisted and cruel, bore into Ryoma, but he felt no fear.
Only rage, cold and sharp, burning through decades of guilt and grief.
"You took everything from me," Ryoma said, his voice low, steady, cutting through the cave's chaos.
His words weren't loud, but they carried the weight of a lifetime—of loss, of choices, of a past he'd buried but never escaped.
All For One's sneer widened, his rasping laugh grating against the stone walls.
"Everything?" he mocked, his voice like splintered glass. "You're nothing. A speck. What could I have taken from you that i already didn't have ?"
Ryoma's jaw clenched, his fists tightening.
He didn't answer.
Not with words.
His mind churned, memories flooding back, unbidden but vivid.
He'd been someone else once—a villain, a fool, a boy in love with a girl who shone too bright for his shadowed world.
Decades ago, when Ryoma was a teenager .
He was classmates with her—Maverick, Nana Shimura, the girl with a smile that could light up the darkest corners of his heart.
She was fearless, kind, everything he wasn't.
He loved her, a quiet, hopeless crush he never dared voice.
They were friends, or as close as a screw-up like him could get to someone like her.
But their paths diverged.
Ryoma failed to graduate.
His quirk wasn't enough, his grades worse.
Bitter and lost and all alone, he fell in with the wrong crowd—thugs, then worse, a gang that promised power and purpose.
He became a villain, small-time at first, his barriers shielding smugglers and enforcers.
Nana, though, soared. She became a hero.
Years later, their worlds collided again.
Ryoma's gang was busted, torn apart by a raid led by none other than Nana.
He'd been cornered, his barrier flickering under her onslaught.
She could've ended him, but she stopped.
Her eyes met his, and beneath the hero's resolve was grief—disappointment that broke something deep inside him.
She recognized his quirk, his face, the boy she'd once laughed with in school halls.
That look wasn't anger. It was pity. It was worse.
He loved her, always had, but it was never meant to be.
Nana was a star, and he was a shadow.
Her gaze shattered his illusions, forced him to see the monster he'd become.
When the cuffs snapped on his wrists, he didn't fight.
He served his time, her face burned into his memory, a reminder of the path he'd lost.
That encounter changed Ryoma.
When he got out, he swore off the villain life.
He lived simply, guiding kids out of the darkness he'd once embraced.
Street punks, runaways, wannabe thugs—he showed them a better way, using connections he'd built to steer them toward jobs, homes, hope.
It was his penance, his way of honoring the woman who'd seen something worth saving in him, even if she'd never know it.
Then he found Issei.
It was a rainy night, the kind that drowned the world in gray.
Ryoma had been cutting through an alley when he saw a woman, stabbed to death, her clothes torn, blood pooling beneath her.
Probably raped, murdered anddiscarded like trash.
His stomach churned, but what stopped his heart was the stroller tipped over in the garbage, a baby wailing inside.
Ryoma picked him up, the infant's cries softening in his arms.
He could've gone to the police, but his criminal record made that a risk—they'd pin the murder on him, no questions asked.
So he took the boy, paid old contacts to dig into the woman's past.
What he found was nothing.
No police report even when the police found her body, no missing person's file.
Just whispers of a rich family, a name erased, a life swept under the rug. Issei's mother was a ghost, and he had no one.
Ryoma raised him.
Issei became his world, his reason to keep going.
The boy's quirk were a marvel awakening at a very young age.
He wasn't his blood, but he was his son.
Now, in the cave, All For One's laugh snapped Ryoma back to the present.
The villain stood, his leg half-healed, black tendrils coiling around his hand.
"You're wasting my time," All For One said mpre cleary, his voice healed now dripping with disdain.
Ryoma's green quirk flickered in his palm.
His body ached, blood dripping from the gash on his forehead, but he didn't move.
He thought of Nana, her disappointed eyes.
He thought of Issei, his screams echoing as the shield carried him away.
He'd failed so many times, but not this one..
He knew the boy would be sad but he needed this...
Was it peak foolishness...? Yes.
But Ryoma knew he was dying anyway.
"You took her," Ryoma said, his voice steady despite the pain. "You took Nana. You broke the world she fought for. And now you're here, destroying everything else." His eyes burned, not with tears, but with a fire he hadn't felt in years. "You won't touch him."
All For One tilted his head, amused. "Nana Shimura? That weakling? She was nothing. And you—" He raised his hand, tendrils sharpening into spears. "—are less than nothing."
Ryoma smiled, small and bitter. He knew he wouldn't walk out of this.
His quirk was spent, his body failing.
But Issei was safe, speeding toward the mainland, toward a chance at life.
That was enough.
Now it was time to be selfish omce again.
Ryoma's barrier broke, fragile as glass under All For One's attack.
Faster than Ryoma could think, his clawed hand tore through Ryoma's abdomen in an instant.
Pain seared through him, white-hot and absolute, blood gushing from the wound as the villain's fingers twisted inside.
Ryoma's knees buckled, but he didn't fall.
Because Ryoma knew better.
He'd always known.
A washed-up villain, a man with a weak quirk, standing against All For One? He never stood a chance.
His barrier had been a gesture.
To pour everything he could master at close distance.
But as the world dimmed, blood pooling at his feet about to deliver his part, Ryoma saw it—oh so clearly.
A pulse, deep in his core, like a second heartbeat.
His quirk, dormant and feeble for decades, surged to life, awakening in the face of death.
Green light flared around All For One's hand, still buried in his abdomen, and Ryoma's face twisted into a snarl of pure hatred.
"You don't get to win," he growled, voice thick with blood and defiance.
In the next instant, All For One's body erupted from within.
Jagged green spikes, harder than steel, more solid than Ryoma's shields had ever been, burst from the villain's flesh.
They tore through his chest, his arms, his throat, each one glowing with emerald fury.
All For One's hand, lodged in Ryoma's gut, twisted and shredded, minced into a pulpy mess as if caught in a blender.
The villain's scream was inhuman, as his body convulsed, spikes pinning his organs, his regenerative quirk dysfunctional under the onslaught.
Ryoma staggered, the spikes holding him upright even as his vision blurred.
Blood poured from his mouth, but he smiled—a grim, satisfied curve.
He'd done better than he hoped for.
For Nana. For Issei.
For every life this psycho sack of shit destroyed.
Outside, the cave shook as a figure landed with a thunderous crash.
All Might staggered into view, his massive frame barely holding together.
His abdomen was a ruin, guts missing, blood soaking his tattered suit.
His blonde hair hung limp, his eyes burning with a will that defied death itself.
He froze, taking in the scene—All For One, incapacitated, his body a pincushion of green spikes, organs shredded, regeneration faltering as the crystalline barriers blocked his healing.
All Might's gaze flicked to Ryoma, understanding dawning.
The man was a stranger, yet his sacrifice was unmistakable.
Ryoma met his eyes, nodding faintly, his strength ebbing.
All For One twitched. "You… can't…" he rasped, blood bubbling from his ruined throat.
All Might didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward, his boots crunching on shattered stone, and seized All For One's head in his massive hand.
With a roar that shook the cave, he crushed it like a grape, bone and flesh collapsing under his grip.
The villain's body slumped, the green spikes fading.
Silence fell, broken only by the drip of blood and the distant crash of waves.
All Might swayed, his willpower finally giving way.
The realization hit—All For One was dead.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed, his broken body hitting the cave floor with a dull thud.
Ryoma's sank to the ground, blood pooling beneath him, his breath shallow.
The cave spun, but he saw Issei in his mind—his boy was safe and he had just made sure to kill All For One.
He saw Nana in his vision, her smile.
He'd failed her once, but not today.
His eyes fluttered shut, a faint smile on his lips.
He'd given everything. It was enough.
This was a good life right ...?
...
Issei lay sprawled on the beach, the coarse sand digging into his back, the salty tang of the sea heavy in the air.
The faint, earth-shaking roars from the island had stopped, leaving only the gentle lapping of waves and the distant thrum of a helicopter slicing through the night sky.
It swept over the shore before vanishing, a sign that the chaos was over.
All For One was defeated.
Issei's senses, caught no more tremors, no more screams.
The world was quiet.
He'd dragged himself here, a secluded spot along the mainland's rocky coast, after the green shield started disappearing.
It had dissolved completely a few seconds ago, leaving a minuscule ember of emerald light in his palm.
Issei clutched it tightly, even as it faded to nothing.
It wasn't warm, not really, but in his mind, it was his father's.
Ryoma's final gift, the last piece of the man who'd given everything to save him.
Issei's small hand trembled, his chest tight with grief too big for his five-year-old body.
That smile—bright, ruthless, ignoring his screams—haunted him.
Ryoma hadn't planned to survive.
He'd stayed behind, facing a monster, so Issei could live.
A sudden beam of light cut through the darkness, blinding him.
Issei squinted, raising a hand to shield his eyes as a torch shone directly in his face.
A shadow loomed above—a policeman, his uniform damp from the sea spray, his face creased with concern. He crouched, the torchlight softening as he tilted it away.
"Hey," the officer said, voice gentle but edged with worry. "Are you lost?"
Issei stared up at him, his throat raw from crying, his cheeks streaked with sand and tears.
The man's question hung in the air, simple but heavy.
Lost? The word didn't begin to cover it. He'd lost his father, his anchor, the only person who made this strange, quirk-filled world feel like home.
He'd lost the life he'd known, however brief, and now he was alone again.
His lips trembled, and for a moment, he couldn't speak.
His hand tightened around the empty space where the shield's ember had been, hoping thwy would magically return.
Then, in a small, broken voice, he said, "Yeah. I am."
The policeman's face softened further, and he extended a hand.
"Come on, let's get you somewhere safe." His tone was kind, but Issei's senses picked up the strain in it—the man had seen too much tonight, just like him.
Issei didn't move at first, his gaze drifting to the dark horizon where the island smoldered, a faint glow of fire and smoke marking the end of the entire settlement that was there.
Alongside their own home too.
Slowly, he took the officer's hand, letting himself be pulled to his feet.
His legs wobbled, his body heavy with exhaustion and grief.
As the policeman led him toward a cluster of flashing lights—more officers, maybe heroes, gathering along the shore—Issei's small hand curled into a fist.
...
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Power Stones and Reviews please