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Kirishima flopped onto the couch nearest the outlet where his phone was charging (Kaminari was still asleep so he couldn't charge it for him). "So bored," he announced to the room. "We’re supposed to get a day off when there’s a long staff meeting like this! But they’re not letting anyone leave campus…”
"Surely the teachers have a good reason to restrict access for the day!" Iida declared. "A small sacrifice is well worth it for our safety!"
"You're just saying that 'cause you already went shopping yesterday," Mina muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.
Over the class rep's stammered protests, Shouto perked up. "Conspiracy theory," he started. (Everyone within hearing range braced themselves.) "They're neutralizing an outside threat."
"That’s not a conspiracy, it’s the truth," Shinsou scoffed from the other couch. He'd kicked his feet up on the coffee table. "There’s no other reason for them to seal the gates."
"Every day I draw closer to the truth," Shouto murmured.
"We can still go outside on campus," Shouji observed to no one in particular, "if we want." From the attention he was paying to his phone, it was obvious he wasn't going anywhere.
"Ooh! We should play some games!" That was Uraraka, brightly, from the corner. She punctuated her suggestion with the heavy thud of a textbook closing. "I can't study on a day this pretty - let's go outside!"
"I mean, we could play tag or something?" Ashido shrugged.
"Hide and seek, kero?"
"Those are all stupid as hell!" Bakugou shouted. "If we're gonna play something, no fucking kids' games."
“What about ‘Heroes and Villains’?”
Everyone whirled around. Had Midoriya been at the kitchen counter the whole time?
"..What's that?" asked Shouto.
Izuku gasped. "You've never played Heroes And Villains?" Wide green eyes turned to Bakugou. "Kacchan, can you believe it?"
"I have not heard of this game either!" Iida supplied.
“I only played once,” Shinsou wrinkled his nose. “They typecast me as the villain. It wasn’t fun.”
"There weren't any kids my age nearby to play with," said Uraraka.
"I think I saw some of the neighborhood children playing it?" Yaoyorozu thought aloud.
The more people spoke up, the more it seemed like Izuku and Bakugou were the only ones who'd played the game very much - them and Shouji, who reiterated that he didn't want to play anything but Animal Crossing today. (Koda seconded this, holding up his Switch.)
So, cajoled into joining by the top two troublemakers of 1-A, the group that emerged from the dorms and headed into Ground Beta that morning consisted of:
Uraraka, Shouto, Iida, Tsuyu, Hagakure, Shinsou, Sero, Kirishima, Momo, Mina, Bakugou, and Izuku.
At the training ground in question, Bakugou whirled on the rest of them. "Here's how it's gonna go," he declared. "Since we've got a bunch of people, there are three villains - two minions and a supervillain. The rest of us are heroes, and one of us gets to be the main hero. Obviously that's me-"
"Kacchan, you can't be the main hero every round, that's boring!"
Bakugou huffed. "Fine, we'll draw straws or something. But I'm keeping the rules from when we were kids, Deku - no quirks, and when you're KO'd, leave the damn field!"
The group collectively stared down Izuku - who immediately caved under the weight of their expectations and, as they’d hoped, gave a better overview of the game. Heroes and Villains, Midoriya-Bakugou Edition, was less about fighting (the way most children played it) and more about role-playing - adapting the game to their current ages and maturity levels meant they could use martial arts, parkour, and so on, and even act out their quirk-based attacks - but quirks themselves could not be used. (“Kacchan and I played this when we were really little. It was the only way he’d behave when my parents were babysitting him.” “DEKU-”)
Yaoyorozu crafted a set of straws for them to draw from - two red sticks for the villain minions, a black stick for the supervillain, and a blue stick for the leader of the heroes, the Symbol of Peace. "No repeat villains," Bakugou insisted once straws had been drawn. "If you get it again next round you have to switch with someone else." He sent Izuku a sharp look and muttered something about 'keeping it fair'.
They tried a practice round, with Iida as the supervillain, and Uraraka and Shouto as his minions.
…To put it bluntly, they weren’t very good.
(“Iida, help!”
“I apologize, Uraraka-san, but I am finding it difficult to get into the role-”
“Hero team, this is Kirishima, I’ve captured the villain Uravity-”
“We surrender!”
“IIDA!”
“You have to at least TRY,” Bakugou complained as he wrestled the non-resisting Iida to the ground and pretended to get him in handcuffs.)
It was so bad, in fact, that they agreed it wouldn’t count against the ‘repeat villains’ rule.
The second round went a little better. Momo, Shinsou, and Kirishima used the practice round as their guide for what not to do, and got so far as to secure a ‘base’ in one of the buildings. It lasted nearly half an hour, and the tension on-scene was rising as two heroes sent out to scout didn’t come back - but was over in minutes once Izuku had enough terrain information to supply an attack strategy to the heroes’ side.
(“Is Midoriya overpowered?” Mina stage-whispered to the other people who’d been taken out, watching their friend direct his teammates on the raid while the actual hero leader was out with Bakugou on the front lines.
Tsuyu, sprawled on the grass a few feet away, said kero, which she took as an agreement.)
In the third round, Bakugou drew a red straw. For a tense moment, most of the group worried he’d take it badly - he’d hated the media calling him one, back when the League’d kidnapped him - but the moment the Ashido-Bakugou-Sero team had all met up-
“YES!” he yelled. “I’ll show you all how to really be a supervillain-”
“Move aside, Blasty, I’m the boss this round,” Mina proclaimed, strutting into the forefront of their group in the alleyway. “Alien Queen is here to bring the pain!” she announced, striking a pose - and comically oblivious to the figures approaching from behind them.
Asui tripped her with her tongue from the shadows. “Heroes win, kero.”
Mina proposed they get to use their quirks for the fourth round.
Immediately, foreboding dragged its claws in a shudder down Katsuki’s spine. Everyone was loudly agreeing to pull their punches, their excitement building in the air; he knew he couldn’t stop them, but something told him he should at least have tried.
And he was right.
Because Izuku drew the supervillain straw.
“Oh, hell,” Katsuki muttered, and of course, nobody heard him. They all thought it was hilarious - Deku as a supervillain? No way! - and jokingly betting on how long he’d be able to keep a straight face while playing the part.
If only they knew.
“Kacchan, look!”
Katsuki looked down.
He’d drawn the superhero straw.
“Double hell.”
Everyone had started putting on their costumes after the second round, when it was emphasized that yes, hand-to-hand combat was allowed. Now, under Bakugou’s command, they had completely geared up, including - especially - their communications systems. It was starting to feel less like a playground game and more like, well, an unsupervised combat exercise.
Particularly since, per their leader’s insistent demands, they took a fifteen-minute planning break before the start of the round.
“Check-in over the comms every three minutes until we engage,” Bakugou was snapping out his orders to the team. He actually sounded more serious than he did during class. “No one travels alone. With quirks involved, there’s no telling what’ll happen, and we don’t have medical backup.”
They used a map of the training ground to outline patrol and search patterns; Bakugou identified several rendezvous points, whispering passwords for them to use, to signal if they’d been followed. Kirishima and Mina exchanged a look over their friend’s head when he got to that part. Is he serious? There’s only three villains.
“I’m not dumb, you know, I know you assholes don’t believe in me.” Several in the team flinched, caught. “You’ll understand soon.”
This level of immersion, of competition, was going to make the game more fun - but his real goal was to beat Izuku, and for that, all this preparation was not only fun - it was necessary.
They’ll see, he told himself. Soon, they’ll all see.
He ignored the goosebumps raising on the back of his neck at the ominous thought.
The round started smoothly: the first fifteen minutes went as planned. Regular responses from his team, confirmation of the security of the rendezvous points, all-clear on the patrols so far. They had just been practicing search patterns two days ago; the strategy was fresh in everyone’s mind.
Perhaps too fresh. “Ugh, it’s still all-clear,” Mina muttered into the comms. “Are they avoiding us?”
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Bakugou barked. Something was bound to happen any minute now, he just knew it.
Another five minutes passed, before the first person missed check-in. “Insomniac,” Bakugou hissed, “come in, Insomniac - oh, hell. Icy-Hot, where’s your damn teammate?”
“Block 10C, we scouted around a building from opposite sides-”
“I said no splitting up!”
“We thought-”
“You thought wrong, get to the nearest regroup location. Pink Cheeks, Soy Sauce, meet him there.”
“Copy that.”
“Copy, over.”
“...”
“...Icy-Hot, do you copy?”
No response.
Bakugou swore under his breath as the comms lit up with chatter. “This is what I was warning you idiots about,” he muttered.
Despite his best efforts, it became a pattern: someone would miss check-in, their partner wouldn’t have an answer for where they went, and before they got to the meetup point, the partner would also disappear. The suspense was getting to those remaining, especially because there were no signs of the fights that took them out, when teams went to investigate.
They managed, at last, to catch Asui and Hagakure in the middle of their snatch-and-grab act, but Uraraka’s teammate had disappeared at the same time - her gasp echoed over the open comm line, and now they were all heading for the last rendezvous point, as fast as they could.
It wasn’t fast enough.
“This is kinda scary,” Kirishima whispered nearly an hour into the game, sticking closer to Bakugou with every roll call that came back with fewer responses.
“Keep your eyes fucking peeled, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou whispered back, eyes sweeping the vicinity. “Round Face, anything in the park?” She’d just reported reaching the location a few minutes ago.
No response.
“Oi, Pink Cheeks, are you there or what? Goddamnit,” he backed up against a wall, “Shitty Hair, keep up, we’re going to the park - be ready to fight.”
“Aye aye, captain,” joked Kirishima nervously, activating his quirk while he ran.
This is a game, Katsuki reminded himself, and we’re still winning. Deku was the only one on his team left; even with quirks, Katsuki was sure he could best him in hand-to-hand, when they had their final confrontation.
He ignored the part of him that knew victory in Heroes And Villains depended on more than just strength and combat skill. It was about strategy, and style, and teamwork, and - where was Shitty Hair?
“Kirishima,” Katsuki barked into the comms, resisting the instinct to panic. “Get your ass over here, you did not just leave me!”
“Sorry! I had to pee! I’m coming back now!” At least Kirishima sounded suitably embarrassed.
“We’re three blocks down, catch up with me,” urged Katsuki, but he didn’t wait for him; no, there was something up ahead, he could feel it in the air. He’d recognize later just how much of a mistake he made in this moment; but his gut instinct told him to go forward, and so he did.
He found hints of a struggle, at the edge of the park. Uprooted signposts; pieces of broken sidewalk; a whole bench bent in half. (How had he not heard? How had such a vicious fight been so quiet?) There was no sign of Uraraka, only a trail of clues leading further in, and Katsuki grit his teeth against the urge to follow that trail, common sense returning.
“Shitty Hair, ETA?” he muttered into the comm.
…
No response.
So he was alone, now. Fuck, okay . Katsuki swallowed down a grimace, and crept along the path into the park. Open space that it was, the location had a small hill in the middle that made it an ideal vantage point for watching everywhere around it - fun for picnics, too, when they weren't playing this game. Taking the hilltop would mean a defensible location for the final fight, so he went for it, sneaking between the shadows of the trees on the park's east side.
So what if it was down to a one-on-one game? He'd known it would come to this; had known the moment he and Izuku drew the most important straws. Katsuki ignored the racing pulse he could feel in his palms when he clenched his fists to gather more sweat. He was supposed to be the Symbol of Peace, the All Might, just like when they were kids - and that meant not showing fear, even if he couldn’t manage a smile right now.
There was… someone lying on the hilltop, he realized. He propelled himself upward, to get a better look, and then rushed in closer, in a panic.
“What the - Round Face!” he whisper-yelled, crouching beside his downed teammate to check her pulse. (She blinked twice for ‘yes’). “Hey - look at me, shit, c’mon-”
This was a fundamental part of the game; those damn extras had better be paying close attention to his acting from the sidelines. Katsuki checked Uraraka over for injuries: she was bruised and scratched, and keeping pressure on a wound on her side, from which a bunch of (fake, courtesy of Yaoyorozu) blood was staining her costume, and breathing shallowly when he bent his head to listen.
“Baku..gou…” Uraraka managed, lifting her free hand to his face. He met her gaze wide-eyed, distressed; she looked back at him pained, but certain. “He’s too dangerous,” she went on, barely a whisper. “You have to run.”
“What? Wait - Round Face - Uravity - stay with me-”
"You have to... keep going..." Her hand fell away, and she lost consciousness.
Even knowing this was just part of the game, Katsuki felt a prickling heat behind his eyes, a tightening of his throat at the sight of his fallen teammate. “It’s gonna be all right,” he promised Uraraka, standing up again. “I’m gonna beat him, and bring you to the medics-”
The birds in the park had gone unnaturally silent, he realized, only a moment before a shadow swept over the scene. Slowly, dread settling in his stomach, cold creeping over him like ice, Katsuki turned around.
When it became obvious that this round was going to go longer than the others, everyone who’d been ‘killed’ headed for the observation room beside Ground Beta to nurse their bruises and scrapes. Shouto provided ice, and Momo provided bandages, and Iida grabbed snacks from the dorm kitchen. Not long after the first half of Bakugou’s team had settled in, the room was invaded by the teachers: whatever staff meeting had kept them away all day was now over, and everyone - even Nedzu - had come out to see what the majority of 1-A was up to in the training ground.
They all watched, murmuring commentary, as each remaining hero got picked off, numbers dwindling, until only Uraraka and Bakugou were left - and Aizawa seemed particularly interested to hear how no one had actually seen Midoriya during the exercise so far, only felt a (dulled, wooden) knife at their throats or dug into their guts before they were told they were ‘out’.
“Haven’t even seen him on the cameras,” someone griped, cycling the feed onto the section of city Bakugou was approaching. And it was true - not a single camera had caught Midoriya Izuku all round.
(He must have taken advantage of the blind spots Nedzu set up, Aizawa thought. And if there were no signs of a detection device being used-
Then Midoriya must have memorized them.)
It meant no one was truly prepared to see Midoriya when he did appear - seemingly out of nowhere, right behind Bakugou and the fallen Uraraka, to gaze down upon them with utter cold in his once-vibrant green eyes.
Yagi Toshinori sucked in a gasp.
“He’s not wearing any gear,” Yaoyorozu noticed aloud from the opposite side of the observation room. “It’s not going to do much for him in combat.”
That may have been true, but from the look of thinks, he didn’t need it to. For the retired pro staring at the viewscreen with shaking hands, that black suit and heavy gold watch emanate enough of an ominous aura all on their own.
And Young Bakugou, it appeared, felt the same. He went pale, stricken with such shock that the audience forgot it was mere play-acting; mouthed a word, but didn’t voice it, as though he were too afraid to speak.
He didn’t have to.
“It’s too late, Ground Zero,” the supervillain spoke, soft but carrying. It was lower than Izuku’s normal voice, a practiced, smooth rumble that Toshinori shuddered to hear.
That Toshinori had hoped he would never hear in open air again.
“Your predecessor,” his gaze flicked in Uraraka’s direction, “has made her last stand, and lost, just like those who came before her.” A breeze swept over the hilltop, jostling loose strands of his white hair.
(White and gleaming, luminescent: Toshinori squeezed his clasped hands together, reminding himself it was only a costume. It wasn’t real.)
“Every generation of heroes proves itself weaker than the last,” Izuku went on, walking a slow circle around Bakugou and the body. His posture, the gleam in his eyes: monstrous. “And I only grow stronger. You stand against me, again and again, and doom yourselves every time to the same fate.” A shift in tone. Almost - sad.
“I’ll fight better,” Bakugou snarled, choking back the (fake) tears he’d been on the verge of shedding over Uraraka’s corpse. “For the good of all humanity. All those heroes you’ve slain - their will lives on in me, Demon King!” He glared, standing tall, arms raised for a strike. “We will eradicate your darkness! We’ll fight until the bitter end!”
“Oh, Kacchan,” Izuku sighed, and they all saw Bakugou flinch back at the change in tone, the pitying look in his eyes. “You go so far for an ungrateful world.” A step out of the circling, closer; another. “A hero’s legacy is short. The people’s memory shorter. And I am kind enough to spare you from becoming jaded by reality. Don’t you see? Your death here-”
A hand held out, for a handshake, for Bakugou to take-
“-would be a mercy.”
(“Damn,” Present Mic whispered to Aizawa. “That’s cold.”)
“Maybe a normal hero’s legacy is short,” Bakugou granted, baring his teeth. “But if that’s it, then I’ll make mine stand longer. I’ll be the Symbol of Peace that overturns your legacy of evil!”
How is it, wondered All Might, feeling the ache of his old injuries now more than ever, that they came up with this? This act, so similar to the years-past confrontation between him and All For One that had left him so weakened in the first place.
(Izuku had been there at Kamino, which explained the suit and the voice, but how had he known what That Villain’s hair looked like?)
“You should be thanking me,” Izuku murmured, “but then, I expected nothing less from… her successor.”
(Was it the Vestiges he talked about, sharing memories of the past holders in his dreams?)
Bakugou let out a wounded cry and moved, quirk activating, in a right hook aimed straight at Izuku’s face-
The audience all seemed to suck in a breath at the same time-
Toshinori hid his face in his hands, but still watched through his fingers, horrified at what was about to happen-
They wouldn’t maim each other for a game, would they? he thought desperately. But Young Midoriya has already proven he’d hurt himself for lower stakes-
The barest flicker of green lightning accompanied the strike to the gut that threw Bakugou down the hill, landing on his side in a cloud of dust at the very bottom.
Fallen.
Izuku turned to face directly into the main camera trained on the confrontation, a frightful gleam in his eyes, and smiled that familiar chilling smile, full of teeth.
“Villains win.”
~
When Izuku, Uraraka, and a thoroughly bruised (but practically unharmed) Bakugou arrived in the observation room five minutes later, it was to an onslaught of applause and excitement from their yearmates.
"Omg how did you do that it was so scary-"
"You guys are really good actors!"
"For a minute I thought it was real!"
Izuku scratched the back of his neck, cheeks burning. “Um. It’s how we always used to play the game when we were little. We couldn’t fight, so we decided the winner by performance..?”
"And the speech was the best part!" Uraraka exclaimed. "I was getting chills - you have no idea how hard it was to pretend to be dead for that scene!"
"It was a more polished monologue than anyone expected," Shinsou agreed. "The tone and the delivery... you made for a fearsome villain, Izuku."
"Ehehe," Izuku's face was even redder. "I can’t take credit for that - I was just copying how my dad used to play the role for Kacchan and I. He always wanted to be the villain-”
"We both memorized the lines," Bakugou announced loudly, "but Deku delivers it better, so I won't complain that he got to be supervillain and I didn't - this time."
"What about..?" Shouto gestured at Izuku's costume, which he was still mostly wearing. (He’d slung the jacket over one shoulder and rolled up his sleeves.)
“Oh, this?” Izuku giggled. “Dad always dresses like this. I can’t imagine being the supervillain without it!” He smiled a fond, distant smile. “He makes sure there’s a well-fitting suit in my closet no matter what. I just got this one when we moved to the dorms.”
“What, like he still picks clothes for you?” someone wondered-
“Only the suits,” interrupted Bakugou. “You think Deku’s awful outfits are anything but his own idea?”
“What about the wig?” Mina asked. “I mean, it’s gotta be a wig, right? No way could you bleach your hair that light, that fast.”
Izuku brightened. “It’s a disguise wig! After the mall incident I started wearing it again - so nobody recognizes me and asks for autographs. Sometimes it gets weird looks from people in the bad parts of town, but…” he trailed off.
“It reminds me of my brother Natsuo,” Shouto contributed. He squinted. “You almost resemble my family like this. Are you sure you aren’t-”
“Shouto no,” Izuku groaned, “I am not anyone’s long-lost family! I talk to my dad every month! He sends me money on my birthday and Christmas!”
“Wait, you have a dad?” Shinsou blurted out. “I thought-”
Everyone, collectively, rolled their eyes.
Izuku flopped onto a chair, face in his hands. “Not you too! I’ve been telling everyone all along that All Might isn’t my dad - why does no one believe me?” He didn’t let anyone interrupt that with an attempted answer - no, he sat up and fixed everyone with a stern look, explaining, very slowly as though they were all idiots, “My father, Midoriya Hisashi, who works overseas, looks just like me but tall with white hair-” he gestured to the wig- “and dresses like this-” he gestured to the suit he was wearing- “and does in fact exist, thank you. Just because I haven’t seen him in a while-”
“Ten years,” Bakugou coughed-
“-doesn’t mean he’s not real!”
Shouto looked like he wanted to ask another question. Izuku glared at him, but it wasn’t as menacing a glare as Endeavor’s, so it didn’t do anything to stop him this time. “You only talk to him on the phone, and haven’t seen him in ten years, so how do you know he isn’t-” a hush went around the room, everyone waiting to see what the next theory was going to be. “-a sophisticated deepfake created by AI?”
Bakugou snorted. “What, that’s the latest you can come up with? Not ‘Midoriya Hisashi is a deadbeat dad’, which is way more believable?”
Shouto stared Bakugou down. Unlike Izuku, Shouto’s flat stare was creepy enough to shut people up. "Conspiracy theories are how I maintain my childlike wonder," he deadpanned. "Don't kill the vibes, Explosion."
Asui and Uraraka choked on laughter at the look on Bakugou's face.
“I refuse to believe that on any level.” Izuku was on his feet, a wild look in his eyes. “Deepfake technology hasn’t been adapted for the post-quirk era - quirk-based forensics can absolutely tell if content has been tampered with - and you know what? It’s early enough Dad’s probably still awake in his timezone, I’ll call him right now!”
He pulled out his phone, showing everyone the contact labeled Dad on the screen (Aizawa squinted at the long string of numbers - distinctly longer than American phone numbers were) and hit, Call.
Izuku put it on speaker, while it was ringing. Not a single person in the room made any sound.
The ringing stopped.
“Henderson’s Morgue, you stab ‘em we slab ‘em, this is Eight Ball speaking.”
Izuku wheezed. “Dad, no!”
A chuckle from the other end. “Hey there, Izu. Did you need something? Anything for my favorite son, you know.”
Izuku rolled his eyes. “Aren’t I your only son?” Before his dad voiced an answer, he went on, “My friends don’t think you’re real.”
“Well, have you tried getting new friends? Kidding, of course,” the man added too hastily. “I mean, if you still have Katsuki then there’s probably very little that anyone could do that you’d drop them for…”
“What the hell, old man!” Bakugou shouted over the rising murmurs of the rest of the class.
"Ah, but back to the subject at hand, you said they want proof that I'm real?" Hisashi huffed a laugh. "And not, what, a well-trained AI?"
"That's what I said," Shouto whispered, shocked.
"Lucky coincidence, actually. For you see, Izu..." Hisashi paused for dramatic effect, of course. "...I have a small surprise for you."
Izuku blinked at the phone. "You do?"
"Yup. I was about to call your mother, so we could surprise you together, but this will do. Take a few steps back from where you're standing for me?"
Confused, Izuku did as he was bidden-
And then everyone was backing up, jaws dropping, because where Izuku had been standing, there was suddenly a small, glowing light.
A line.
And another, and another, drawing in thin air the crisp outline of a door.
A door that opened, onto a shifting dark abyss, before a tall, broad figure stepped through.
Izuku's claims about his father's appearance were spot-on, everyone saw. Black suit, gold watch, hair like Izuku's but white - the man had his freckles, too, the four-in-a-diamond arrangement on both cheeks. His eyes weren't green, though; they were red.
And they were bright with glee as Midoriya Hisashi surveyed his new surroundings, mysterious warp-door closing behind him, until his gaze lit upon his son and he seemed to gleam even brighter. "Surprise!" he beamed.
"What the- how did you-?"
"I bribed my coworker, of course," Hisashi smirked, ruffling his son's hair - as if that weren't highly illegal in pretty much every country. The teachers, being pro heroes, were well within their rights to arrest him on that confession alone. If they so chose, anyway.
Izuku decided not to worry about it, and went in for a hug. "You were originally going to take a plane or something though, right?" he asked. "..Right?"
Hisashi very blatantly changed the subject, tugging on the strands of Izuku's white wig. "Now this is new," he teased. "I seem to remember you having green hair in all the photos. Did you use a quirk for this?"
"Dad, it's a wig."
"Sure, if you say so," Hisashi shrugged and stepped back. His attention turned to Aizawa, who was watching him suspiciously from a few feet away. "And you must be Izuku's teacher, Aizawa-sensei. I've heard excellent things about you, of course." The man stepped closer, which only exacerbated their height difference, such that Aizawa had to crane his neck to look up at Hisashi when he went to shake his hand-
"Wait! Don't touch him!"
All eyes turned to All Might, who leapt in between them and bodily shoved Aizawa several steps back. The look on his face had the students reeling even more than they had been when Izuku's father first appeared in the room.
"Yagi Toshinori," Mr. Midoriya said brightly. "I've heard plenty about you, too. I'd wondered how you were doing, now that you're retired, but you look well enough."
“Yeah, so do you, for someone who was in Tartarus until last night,” All Might snarled, “All For One.”