Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue 

The street burned under the setting sun — smoke painting the clear spring sky grey.

Midoryia Izumi leaned against the telephone pole, knees threatening to give out. Her fingers trembled from where they pressed over her mouth, body shaking with the barrage of explosions thundering down the block. 

It was chaos. It was horrible.

The air reeked of smoke and melted plastic. Sparks snapped overhead as loose wires swayed from the collapsing street lamps. Izumi stumbled forward; taking one step, then another. Through her tears, she saw the writhing arms of the sludge villain who attacked her earlier. The crowd of bystanders were rumbling with discomfort around her as the sounds of heroes calling out to each other wafted in from the fray. 

Why weren’t they doing anything? All the heroes assigned to the area stood still, staring as the flames climbed higher. 

Why weren’t they moving? 

Izumi pushed through the sea of people, making her way to the front of the crowd.  Apparently there was a kid in there. The heroes had called out for them to hold on for just a little longer. Were they okay? How could they hold out for this long? Izumi had only been in the sludge villains grasp for a few seconds and she was sure she was going to die… How is that kid -

Wait.

Tearful green eyes met the gaze of a watery, slitted red.

Silence fell; muting the screams and booms of explosions until the only thing Izumi could hear was the sound of ringing in her ears.

Those eyes… they were familiar to Izumi. She would know those red eyes anywhere, even if the look in them (terrified terrified terrified, he’s so scared), was one she’d never seen before.

A gasp slipped out Izumi’s quivering lips, like it was punched out of her.

“Hey! Stupid, dummy, Zumi, get back from the edge! You’re going to fall in like a loser!”

“Oh! I’m sworry Kacchan! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Those were Kacchans eyes.

That was Kacchan.

“Pfftt! I wasn’t scared! Stupid Zumi… I’m not scared of anything! If you fall I’ll just catch you! Duh! I can do anything!”

A hiccup. A gasp. Stars shined in little green eyes.

“Oh, wow… Kacchan sugoi!”

A single quivering step.

Two.

Suddenly, Izumi was sprinting.     

There is a universe where Midoryia Izuko was born quirkless.

In this universe, a world of heroes and power, he would never amount to anything; forever destined for a life of uselessness, and cursed with the fate of a nobody.

(Or so he thought.)

In this reality, all Izuko wanted was what was out of reach. To have a quirk, to make a difference - to be a hero.

In another universe, separate but parallel from Izuko’s, Midoryia Izumi was born with a quirk. In this universe she was born perfectly normal and fundamentally average.

(Or so she thought).

She did not know true struggle or strife like Izuko did. She was not singled out or ostracized. She was perfectly comfortable, and perfectly complacent - a trait she learned from her mother who raised her.

Izumi did not grow up with a desire to go beyond, or to be a hero, because it was never not an option for her.

Izumi had the privilege of choice.

In both these universes, despite the differences between Izuko and Izumi, there were some similarities between them.

One similarity between them was that they both were born with a selfless heart, too big for such a cruel world, and a deep-rooted sense of right and wrong.

Another similarity was that they were both born with a destiny greater than anything they could’ve imagined for themselves… even if how they got there was a little different.

The third (but not final) similarity between the two young heroes-in-the-making was that they were both in love with Bakugo Katsuki.

.

.

.

(So help them Gods.)

“Kacchan. Kacchan.”

“Ugh! Go away, Zumi! Leave us alone,” firecrackers and a tiny boom sounded from the little blonde boys fists, “we’re busy here.”

A young girl, no more than four years old, quivered behind the three leering boys. Izumi had been playing on the bench by herself when she heard Kacchan’s voice and another boy’s cries. She had come to see what was happening (who was crying?) and was horrified of what she found.

Kito Aiko was on the floor, hugging his scraped knees; bleeding.

Izumi began to cry harder, fists clenched into her dress, and eyes closed. She felt so scared.

“Kacchan, why are you being so mean.. stop it! Please. You’re hurting him!”

“Ugh, get lost loser! No one wants you here anyway, stupid.”

A cry tumbled out her trembling lips. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

“Please, Kacchan… why are you being so mean?” A gasping breath; the next words that came out of her mouth came weak and thready, like a question. “If you… if you don’t stop it… I’ll tell on you? You’ll get in trouble, Kacchan.”

A blonde head turned, red cat-eyes slitting over a tiny shoulder. The smirk the little boy gave was taunting. Menacing. Though, Izumi did not see it. Her eyes were still closed, tears leaking out of the corners. 

More firecrackers.

“Oh, yeah? You going to tell on us, stupid Zumi? Yeah right. You’re too much of a scaredy cat to do anything. Stop wasting our time and go cry in the bushes like the cry-baby you are.”

The little boy turned back to his prey, preening, and little Izumi turned away from the scene, green curls tumbling widely from her pony tail into her tear-stained, freckled face. Chubby fists rubbed into shut eyes as the young girl ran,  a single sob escaping her lips.

Izumi ran in the direction she knew a grown-up would be, though she wasn’t sure she would be able to even get the words out through the squeeze, squeeze, squeeze in her throat. Why was Kacchan acting like this? He was hurting Kito -

Izumi stopped, sneakers skidding into the rocks on the ground.

She turned back to where the boys were a couple feet away. Kacchan was pulling Kito’s purple hair, palm crackling and pointed next to the boys ears. Kito was cringing and shaking, trying to pull away from the heated palm, but the other two boys were holding him in place. Izumi couldn’t hear his cries through the pounding of her little heart.

“Stop it.” She gasped through a sob, fists clenched and trembling by her sides. She needed to go get a grown-up, she needed to…

Kacchan pulled Kito’s hair hard, shark teeth biting at his ear.

“Stop it.”

Izumi needs to go get a grown-up, that’s what mommy said to do if something bad was happening,  but… how can she leave Kito behind?…

A cry slipped out of Kito’s lips - this one Izumi heard. The other boys laughed.

“Stop it.”

Why was Kacchan doing this?

A big feeling rose up in Izumi’s chest. It felt hot and sticky, like vomit, but not really. Her hands tingled, they felt itchy. Her heart ached.

“Stop it.”

Without thinking Izumi pushed her arms out, and that big feeling got bigger, moving from her chest into her palms and outside of her, into the world.

Little Katsuki, and his two croonies, toppled over out of no where, shoved by an imaginary force. They landed in a pile of struggling limbs and snarls on top of Kito. Kito pulled himself from under the pile and ran away crying.

“Hey! Hey! Get off me, dummies!”

“Hiro pushed me!”

“It wasn’t me!”

Izumi turned and ran away.    

Chapter 1: The Cherry Blossoms Bloom Sideways 

「風に逆らう桜も、咲くことをやめない。」

Even the cherry blossoms that bloom against the wind do not stop blooming.

- Japanese proverb

Morning (the same day)

In Musutafu, under a clear blue sky, the cherry blossoms bloomed sideways -falling gently from their branch and wafting with the spring breeze.

As the blossoms fell, a single petal landed onto a mass of long and unruly curls, decorating the moss-green of Midoryia Izumi’s hair pink as she ran from one side of the sidewalk to another.

Izumi batted the petal away from her hair, pushing back her bangs from her round -freckled face, and skidding to a stop at the corner of an intersection. She looked left and right, bounced on her toes as she waited for the crosswalk to signal she could go, then crossed the street once it did. Izumi’s scoffed white-high top sneakers tapped against asphalt in a pit pat as she weaved in and out of the sea of morning commuters, calling out hasty apologizes and ‘excuse me’s’ when she narrowly avoided bumping into the adults in her way.

Izumi was in a hurry. She was running late for scho-

annndddd the enormous villain with a monster quirk interrupting traffic was not helping matters.

Izumi skidded to a stop, narrowly avoiding bumping into a man with star-fish antennas(?) on his head. A crowd had amassed to watch the villain rage from below.

This is dangerous, Izumi mused, wide eyes peering up at the spring-blue sky. The villain could mess with the power lines which could cause, at best, a power outage in certain areas, and, at worst, mass electrocution.

Not great.

“Oops,” Izumi mumbled to the back of the star-man’s head, still thinking of the possibility of mass electrocution, “sorry, sir."

Where did those power-lines hover over? What street? The heroes should definitely evacuate that street immediately, just in case any of those poles were to fall in the fight that was about to happen once a hero arrives.

Wait- what agency patrols this area at this time of day?

The man said some things, and Izumi mumbled a response, a delicate thumb rubbing at her chin as she thought, mind whirring. To her front, the villain roared, a man called in late to work from somewhere to her left, and Izumi tried to recall the patrol schedule for that side of town. She began to mutter to herself, assessing, “well, I know Backdraft and Deatharms are usually active around this time but we’re a little farther out thentheirusualroutesandtheirquirkswouldn’tbeofusewithamonsterqui-”

Somewhere in the distance,  school-aged girls (Izumi’s age) began to scream. Izumi jumped, just slightly.  Kamui Woods swung by one of his arms into the fray, eliciting more screams from his adoring fans. Izumi perked up; eyes shining amongst the pinks of falling leaves. Oh, good!  She thought excitedly, mumbling forgotten.  Kamui began to battle the raging giant villain. The heroes are here!

The Wood Hero: Kamui Woods, Quirk: Arbor, was new to the hero scene, but quickly rising the ranks; with his versatile quirk, wicked reflexes, and heroic presence, Kamui was one of the more popular up and coming heroes that’d debut in the past year.  Especially, amongst the demographic of young girls.

(If Izumi blushed a little too, well, that was her own business).

“Get away from me, or I’ll break you toothpick!”

“Assault, robbery, and illegal use of power in rush-hour traffic… You are the incarnation of evil!”

Gasps echoed across the crowd, tension rose in the air as steadily as the rising sun. Izumi’s phone vibrated in her blazer pocket with her second alarm, jerking her out of her awe.

Oh! 15 minutes until the first bell rung.

With the threat of certain death no longer as high of a possibility, Izumi turned on her heel and ran the opposite direction. There was a shortcut she could take around the building.

“Oi! Where are you going, kid? Not going to watch?”

Izumi’s skirt over her black leggings blew in the wind, cream-colored backpack bouncing against her back as she ran off; clipped to the side of her zipper on her bag was a tiny Mirko plushie, and an old hospital badge on it that spelled out in Kanji, Midoryia I. 

Her mothers first hospital badge.

“Pre-emptive Binding…

“Not today!” Izumi called over her shoulder, white teeth smiling against the backdrop of Musutafu’s city-scape and clear sky. Izumi had  seen the whole ‘hero taking down a villain’ scene a hundred times before by that point. She could miss one more. “I’m running late for school! ”

… Laquered Chain Prison-!”

“ Canyon Canon!”

A great crash echoed off the concrete in the distance, but Izumi was already gone, the pink petals of a Japanese spring trailing behind her as she went. 

“Oh, Midoryia, you’d like to go to U.A too, right?”

Freeze frame.

Record scratch.

Silence fell, and Izumi looked up from her notebook. She gripped her pen tightly, shuddering at the amount of eyeballs pointed in her direction. She hadn’t really been paying attention to the class discussion after everyone started talking about the Hero track. Izumi had even forced herself to tune out Kacchan’s impassioned speech about how he’d “be the richest hero of all time” and everyone else could eat his dust.

The entire speech made Izumi sad.

She knew Kacchan was capable of becoming a hero. He was capable of becoming the best hero, no doubt about it. But, that wasn’t what he said. Kacchan didn’t want to be the greatest hero… he wanted to be the richest.

It was disappointing.

Kacchan was made for more than that. He was capable of more than just fame and glory and fans to himself. With his abilities, his quirk, his brains, his drive, Kacchan could be- would be - unstoppable. There would be no one in trouble Kacchan couldn’t’ save - like All Might.

He just didn’t see it yet - or he saw it, but he saw only half of the bigger picture. The admittedly more self-centered half.

Again, disappointing.

It’s okay, though. Izumi had faith in him. He would get there in time, and see himself the way she saw him. Until then, Izumi said nothing, stayed in the shadows, and swallowed how sad Kacchan’s regression into becoming a self-centered bully made her.

There was no hiding or staying quiet now. Not when those fiery red-eyes were blazing right at her.

Heat blossomed over freckled cheeks, nerves alight under pale skin. On one hand, Izumi hated public speaking and being the center of attention so having everyone in class stare at her was nerve-wracking. On the other hand, it had been almost 98 days (not that she was counting) since Kacchan has made eye contact with her and she was not prepared for today to be the day it happened. She’d forgotten to brush her hair this morning.

Just her luck.

“Umm..sorry, sir?”

“Izumi”, Yuri to her right whispered, “you want to go to U.A?”

The red blaze burned brighter - Izumi could almost feel the heat from his stare, but she ignored it, choosing to stare at her desk instead.

“To the General Studies Course, yes.” She mumbled.

“Haaa?” Kacchan snarled, taking one menacing step towards Izumi’s desk, palms clenched. “You?”

It was little things like that that gave Izumi hope that her Kacchan - the Kacchan that was her childhood best friend - wasn’t completely gone yet.

He never opened his palms at her.

Ever.

Izumi’s heart thumped with something that could be pain or anger. Who knew.

“Yes, Kacchan,” Izumi whispered, still staring at her desk, fingers trembling around her pen. “I want to go to the General Studies program. U.A is the best school in the country, and if I want to get into a good medical program after high-school I have to stand out…”

“You? Get into U.A? You?!”

Kacchan was starting to steam up now; pops crackling out his hands. Izumi felt small.

  “I mean, even if I don’t get in… I can still try, can’t I?”

The room was quiet, sans Kacchan’s heavy breathing, until Yuri said, “Of course you can, Zumi!”

“Right!”

“Yeah!”

“Sure, Izumi.”

“Good luck, Midoryia!”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

It would have all been heartwarming, if not for one thing…

“Bullshit!” Kacchan cried, slamming a a palm onto his desk. Sparks flew. Wood charred. Izumi was so shocked she yelped, and glanced up. Kacchan’s teeth were bared at her. “U.A only takes the best of the best. Do you understand that, I-zu-miii” Kacchan’s tongue lulled, face contorting around her name like a curse; like it was something that tasted disgusting on his lips. Izumi cringed, and for the first time in years, Izumi’s eyes watered at Kacchan’s words. It hurt more than him calling her stupid, or nerd, or - when he’s feeling particularly placid- freckles. Kacchan only called Izumi by her first name when he was being particularly serious… or particularly mean. “You don’t even know what it means to be the best! All you do is sit on your ass, write in your dumb little journal, and daydream like a freak. Your grades are mediocre and your exam scores are shit - yes, I have eyes, stupid I can read! You think you’re getting into U.A like that? You’re even stupider than I thought! Do yourself a favor and give up on that shit now. Focus on getting your shit together and then maybe, freaking maybe,  you can make it into some shitty- B-list high school.”

Katsuki turned on his heel and stomped back into his seat, still muttering to himself, “ Fucking dumb-as-rocks, nerd. U.A?!  Make it to top 5 in this stupid ass class first, what the fuck. Stupid Izumi… ”

Izumi’s insides shriveled. Tears leaked down her cheeks. In the room a symphony of “Cut it off,Katsuki!", and “Chill, Bakugo,” and the teacher’s “Bakugo, enough! Sit down.” ( “I am sat down, idiot! Look with your eyes!”) echoed in her head, mixing in with the pounding of her heartbeat.

God, everything he said hurt. It hurt.

A familiar feeling rose up in Izumi’s chest, like a balloon filling with hot air, she felt it bubble in her solar flex and push against her lungs, swelling up her body and her arms. Izumi slammed her eyes closed, and breathed steadily. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Steady.

Steady.

Izumi’s pen dug into the fleshy part of her palm as she hunched over her desk, quivering and shaking slightly, tears leaking; her journal entry detailing the mornings commute to school and her to-do list for later forgotten. She focused on that feeling in her chest, and imagined the balloon in her chest deflating, steadily.

Breathe. Breathe.

Class continued, used to Kacchan’s infamous temper and random outbursts as they were, but Izumi stayed still and silent - stuck in that awful moment.

Eventually, that feeling in Izumi’s chest disappeared, but if a few pens scattered around the classroom, and the teachers coffee mug were a couple inches further away on the desk from where they were in the beginning of class… no one noticed.

(It would be over a year until Izumi looked back at that moment and realized that Kacchan was right. That those were words she needed to hear, but wasn’t ready to understand - not then at least.

And, it would be more than a decade and a half later, as she lay in her shared bed with her husband, stirring for a long day of teaching (for her) and pro-hero work (for him) ahead, that she looked back at that moment and realized something…

He said their classmates would be lucky to equate to D-listers.

When he referred to her future he said B-list. High praise from a teenage Katsuki.

“Awww, Kacchan! You believed in me even then.”

A snort, a groan. Soft snores were interrupted.

“Ughh ha? What the shi-, Izu. It’s too early! Jeez… whispering in my ear like a psycho first thing in the morning … Shoulda never let you watch Dexter. See if I let ya watch another serial killer show.”

“Aww but Kacchan! I’m watching “YOU’ on Netflix next!”

“Like HELL.” )

Afternoon

Here is a story:

According to family legend, the Midoryia’s were people of the river and sea.

Since before the Edo period, before there were quirks and heroes and modern technology, the Midoryia’s lived by the water. They were simple fisherman and strawmakers; known for being a diligent, courteous, hardworking, and kind clan. Favored by the water Diety, whose name was lost to time and memory, the Midoryia clan never had any accidents or mishaps out in the water, no matter how tumultuous the tides, and were always bountiful in their catch.

They were so highly favored by the water Diety that one day the youngest of the Midoryia clan, a young woman who married the local shoemaker, had a premonition. She felt a pull, a calling, to the water; and, so the young woman left her new family, took one of the wooden boats carved by her father and grandfathers, and set out with the tides.

The village spent months looking for her - then months grieving her.

After the ninth month of her disappearance, they say the youngest Midoryia daughter returned in a great boat, like the one of her father carved but not, shrouded in mist, pulled by an invisible force back to the village.

When the great boat finally arrived to the dock, and the village people ran to see what lay in the mysterious boat, they found the young Midoryia laying on a bed of moss - covered in vines and mildew, smelling of the salt of the sea, and previously porcelain  skin freckled by distant suns. The same as the day she left, but different. Almost older - yet not; with dazed, vacant eyes and a syrupy smile

But that was not the strangest part.

In her arms lay a child: tan skinned and freckled as her mother, with hair and eyes as vibrant and green as the bed of moss below them. A child of the tides.

Izumi’s mother said that whatever it was that happened that prompted such a legend, whatever kernnel of truth lay hidden in the story that’d been passed down through generations, lay the explanation in their quirks.

Push and pull -

like the tides, or the waves.

Like the moon to the sea.

Like the water of the beach by Mustufaso where  Izumi grew up in. (Inko wanted to find a home by the water - it was the one thing she never budged on).

It was also, according to Inko, why the Midoryia’s were such gigantic cry babies.

Highly inconvenient.

Izumi sniffled and wiped at her eyes one last time. Her face was damp, her knees wet from the puddle that stretched out beneath her feet and bled into the stalls to either side. Izumi rose shakily from the toilet seat (pants on, thank you); skinny knees unsteady with the force of her emotions, swaying from dehydration now that her water reserves were completely depleted. Sadly, sobbing into a toilet was a necessary evil when you produced as many tears as a Midoriya did. But thankfully, Izumi at least had enough sense—before collapsing onto the tile—to hang her backpack up on the stall door.

She reached for the tan straps; the tiny Mirko swayed with the movement, and the youthful face of her mother beamed back at her from the hospital badge clipped to the zipper.

Izumi paused. She reached out, dainty fingers catching the plush gently between her fingertips. She stared at the defiant expression on the Rabbit Hero’s face. Unyielding. Cocky. Taunting.

Like someone else Izumi knew, though just the thought of him had her eyes stinging again.

No. Izumi huffed to herself. No more crying.

A breath left her lips—shaky, but controlled. She brushed at her eyes again, once, then twice. Her reflection in the scratched chrome door latch stared back at her; a hazy figure, too-green unruly hair, eyes red-rimmed and blotchy.

“Okay,” she whispered to no one, jutting a quivering, pointed chin. “Okay.”

Izumi slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped out of the stall.

The bathroom was empty. Just the echo of her footsteps and the soft drip of a leaky faucet. Izumi paused by the sink and washed her hands with cold water. Splashing her face too, she stared into the mirror this time—really stared.

Her freckles. Her wide eyes. Her puffed cheeks and bitten lips.The badge on her backpack still gleamed faintly under the fluorescent lights.

Her mom had worn that badge every shift. Every single one - sick kids. Broken bones. Grieving families. Battle-worn heroes. Unlucky bystanders. Her mother had faced them all—smiling kindly, moving steadily, always standing tall.

Or at least—as tall as a Midoriya woman could stand.

(Midoriya women were mighty in spirit, not height.)

And Mirko?

Mirko didn’t wait for applause. She kicked first and asked questions later.

Izumi straightened her spine.

Let Kacchan rant and belittle her. Whatever. Izumi had a goal in mind—a vision of what she could do.

She might not be hero material, or anything particularly special, but she could be of assistance.She could try.

And to try, Izumi didn’t have to be the strongest, or the smartest, or even the loudest.

She just had to keep going.

That’s it.

That’s it.

Izumi walked out of the bathroom, shoulders still a little heavy—but her feet steadier than they had been all day.

The hallway was mostly empty now that the last bell had rung. A few students lingered near the shoe lockers, voices distant and muffled. Izumi slinked past, bangs hiding her eyes as she quietly traded her indoor shoes for her sneakers and stepped outside.

The sun had dipped lower, the last of its light burning in the distance like the flame of a waning candle, casting long shadows across the pavement. A cherry blossom petal drifted past her face, catching on her bangs for a second before floating away.

Izumi adjusted her backpack, unzipping and digging through the side pockets until she felt the familiar edge of her medical terminology flashcards. She pulled the color-coded notecards out of her bag, zipped the sides back up, tugged her blazer tighter, and began the walk home.

The city was humming with quiet life—distant sirens, laughter from a nearby park, the soft rhythm of her shoes on the sidewalk. Her backpack shifted with each step, lighter than before. The acrid taste of Katsuki’s cruel words still sat at the back of Izumi’s tongue. She tasted it every time she swallowed. Remembered them every time her mind drifted too far from the difference between the suffix -itis (inflammation) and -penia (deficiency) in medical terminology.

But Izumi wouldn’t let that get her down—not while the sun was still up and she had more studying to do.

(At night, when the moon is wan and the dark is deep... that’s a different story.)

I’ll ask Mom at dinner tonight to quiz me, she thought with forced cheer and very real stubbornness. It’ll be fun for the both of us.

Beyond the horizon, the sun hung low, its red hues mirroring the crimson in a slitted pair of eyes that watched Izumi’s form disappear around the corner.

They looked... guilty.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: What I See in You

「見えぬ糸は、心で結ばれる。」

The invisible thread is tied by the heart.

- Japanese Proverb

Izumi hated the tunnel beneath the bridge on Jakkuara Street.

The sky was beautiful—burnt gold by the lowering sun and soft with the spring breeze. There was no reason the view should be obscured by some random, eerie tunnel on her way home

Her sneakers echoed off the concrete as she stepped under the arch of the tunnel’s entrance; head low, fingers rubbing at her chin as she walked. The tunnel stretched ahead 20 meters.

“What city official thought of this?” she muttered. “Why would anyone use tax money to build this? Maybe some sort of sewage situation? But that wouldn’t make any sense, what water pipeline is- ”

A hush fell.

The smell came first.

Acrid and repellent. It singed her nostrils, sizzled on her tongue, and raked like iron through her lungs. The air itself felt toxic, a chemical fog rolling around her.

Then, the sound.

Izumi froze.

Thick liquid shifting. Metal scraping against the ground. Deep, rattling breaths -too low, too heavy to be human.

The hair at the back of her neck stood. Fear locked Izumi’s knees beneath her skirt. Her heart hammered a bruise into her ribs. A sick, heavy feeling coiled in her stomach.

Slowly, trembling, Izumi turned.

The sight was the worst part.

The villain’s body writhed—green sludge coiling and folding on itself. His face was wide and fish-like, with cracked lips and yellowed, blunted teeth. His mouth gaped; a thick, gray tongue lapped at his lips like he was hungry. There was a smile there, cruel and jagged as a dull knife.

When he spoke, his voice was gravel and gurgles - almost inhuman.

“Oooo, a little schoolgirl. A perfect meat suit to hide in.”

A villain.

Then, there was movement.

Her body moved before her brain could catch up. Feet slammed against the concrete; her scream was sharp and raw as the villain’s thunderous laugh chased her down the tunnel.

Izumi barely made it a few steps before slick green arms reached for her - sliding in and out of her vision, circling like sharks in dark water.

They caught her, curling around her arms and twisting torso.

For a second—two—the tunnel echoed with the sound of cruel laughter and girlish screams. Izumi thrashed blindly, terror ripping through her. A cold heat burned through her; swelling in her stomach and crackling under her skin and up her arms. The slime wrapped her ankles, heavy as chains. Her kicks landed uselessly. Tears streamed down Izumi’s cheeks. For the first time in her life, her mind went blank.

In the distance, a hero’s march began to play, the intro of an orchestra swelling in the background, as a gold-draped and hulking figure appeared at the end of the tunnel.

“Never fear. I am he-”

That feeling in Izumi’s gut surged upward, sizzling her nerves, burning icy-hot through her chest and lungs, until it exploded.

“Wait, wha—? Aaugh!!”

The villain’s grunt and cry cracked against the walls like thunder. The symphony stopped.

Next thing Izumi knew, she was on the ground with a thump. It should’ve hurt, but adrenaline and that strange tingling under her skin drowned out the pain.

She gasped wetly, spit and snot slick on her face as she pushed herself up. Izumi’s head spun. The smell was gone.

When Izumi turned, still panting and teary-eyed, the villain was on the other end of the tunnel. Green slime decorated the walls, dripping and sliding down concrete. The villain blinked a single eye as what still remained of him swayed through the air, formless.

He looked… confused.

Izumi blinked twice, her own confusion piercing through the fog in her brain. What just… How did he…?

A lone eyeball rolled on the ground beneath Izumi’s feet. It looked confused too.

“Wha,” the sludge villain rumbled, single-eyed and swaying. “Did you just.. Did you just… push me?”

Izumi shrieked at the roar the villain left out. She must’ve been drained from the struggle because she didn’t even bother to run. She crouched low, folded into herself on the ground, and wrapped her arms over her own head. Green eyes squeezed shut.

Please, please, someone please-

Music swelled in the distance again- a hopeful tune.

“Detriot…”

The villain stopped his rush and turned. Izumi gasped at the voice.

“SMASH!”

A gust of wind so strong it lifted Izumi off the ground slammed into her. She flailed midair, another gust following - shorter, sharper. Something yanked hard at Izumi’s collar. She yelped, the world a blur of motion: air howling in her ears, her own hair whipping across her face, the tunnel’s blues and blacks crashing like waves around her.

The ground vanished, sound fractured - light faded to black.

“Hmmm…now that’s something you don’t see everyday.”

Slap, slap, slap…

Slap, slap.

Izumi twitched at the taps on her cheek, scrunching her nose. Her eyelids felt heavy. A voice was speaking to her but… that couldn’t be…

A familiar laugh echoed, the sound almost soft. “Looks like you’re waking up. That was quite the defense you put up.”

No, of course not. It can’t be… how silly of me…

Green eyes fluttered open, then widened in shock.

All Might was lingering above her, teeth gleaming and eyes shadowed. He wasn’t in uniform, but Izumi (anyone) would recognize that face instantly.

Izumi screeched, flailing and crawling backward. She probably looked like a green crab.

“All Might?! Oh!” Izumi scrambled onto two legs, unsteady. Her head swam, but propriety demanded she ignore it. “Ah. Mr. All Might, sir.” Izumi bowed hastily, cheeks flaming. What is going on?!

A hearty laugh; he sounded exactly like on TV.

“ No need for all that, young lady. That was quite the defense you put up. How are you feeling?”

Defense…?

All of it came back in a rush- the green, the voice, the slime around her ankles. Izumi quivered, raising from her bow. She hugged her own torso, clapped a hand over her lips; green eyes watered. “Oh.”

A warm hand settled on a thin, quivering shoulder. Oh my goodness, that just… that just happened?

“Settle down, now. I know it was scary.” A soft tap on the shoulder. The sun was warm above. “You were incredibly brave.”

The compliment broke through her fear and horror. Izumi leaned back in embarrassment, eyes shifting to the side and down to the concrete to her left.

“Oh! I wouldn’t say that. I was just… well, I don’t know, actually what happened…” A memory, a feeling. She rubbed the tears out of her eyes.“I think maybe I pushed him? But… but, my quirk has never felt like that before? How did that happen?... Maybe the physical manifestation of my adrenaline made my push stronger? But, how would that even work? Ithastobesomesortofphysiologicalresponse,likeflightorfight-”

Muttered phrases manifested and circled the space between Izumi and All Might, comical and multicolored. All Might watched with intrigue at the frazzled, odd young girl - but his smile had a strain to it that Izumi didn’t notice. The corner of his mouth leaked red.

“ Well,” He boomed, interrupting Izumi’s muttering. Izumi jumped; she forgot he was even there. “I’ll be off now, time to get this villain to the station. Can you get home safely? Is there someone you would like to call?”

“Oh! No - no sir, I’m okay… I live a few blocks away. I was just on my way home- ”

Izumi stopped at the thought of home. Not because she’s running late, or her mother would be worried. Not because she needs to go cry after being attacked and traumatized, or any other practical reason. It was for something much more embarrassing.

Freckled cheeks flamed a delicate rose; when she spoke, her voice was soft and light as it's petal.

“Mr. All Might? Can - I - Thank you for saving me. I - I’m sorry to ask, but… but…”

Izumi crouched and fumbled with her bag, her plushie, and the hospital badge, jostling. She grabbed her pencil case, unzipped it with shaking fingers, and peered inside. Next to her favorite pens and pastel highlighters, along with her travel-sized sunblock, was a laminated card. It gleamed with the sunlight as Izumi pulled it out.

“Wow! Kacchan! It’s All Might! Your favorite.”

“Yeah!” The voice was tiny, yet self-important even then. Arrogant in that innocent, charming way only a child could manage. “Yeah it is! Now I have two, mwhahahaha!”

Izumi wilted, little lips quivered. She looked down at her card - No. 13 Hero: Wash. “That’s so cool, Kacchan. I want one too.”

Izumi didn’t want her card. She wanted the same as Kacchan so they can match. Before any real tears escaped, a grubby hand wrapped around Izumi’s wrist. She yelped at the yank, then suddenly she was holding something. Izumi glanced down.

It was the All Might card; up close it was so shiny, like a rainbow.

Izumi looked up with wide eyes. Kacchan was tugging at the edge of his black skull t-shirt, blushing underneath his blonde spikes. The little boy huffed, looking anywhere but at Izumi. “There, dummy Zumi. Don’t be a crybaby. You can just have that one since I have two.”

Under a golden sky, Izumi held the All Might special edition holographic card up. It was in mint condition despite being over ten years old.

“Mr. All Might, can you sign this for me… please?”

A beat, then a booming laugh swelled. “Ahh! A fan! Of course, I should’ve known. Here you go.”

A gust of wind- Izumi blinked, batted her curls away from her eyes and pushed her bangs behind her ear. Her hands still trembled from left over fear, but this was more important right now.

Within a second, the card was signed - literally in the blink of an eye. All Might’s huge fingers and hand holding held the signed card to her face.

Woah, so fast.

“There you go! I apologize, I usually knock that out early, but I saw the Mirko merch on your bag and assumed. Mirko is an incredible hero and an inspiration for young girls everywhere.” All Might winked at Izumi, giving her a thumbs-up and a blinding smile. “Fantastic choice.”

A girlish excitement flared up in Izumi as she held the card in her palm, almost reverent. Kachann’s birthday was next month, and even though they hadn’t exchanged gifts in years (Izumi wouldn’t think of the last time she tried), but this. This would be…

“Amazing,” Izumi whispered and glanced up at the Number One Hero. He was so tall and radiant- even more so than on TV. With the sky as his backdrop, All Might stood like a second sun. Izumi almost didn’t want to look he was so bright and overwhelming, but she couldn’t look away either. She felt… hopeful. Wondrous. Those few dark minutes in that tunnel seemed so far away now. There was no place for shadows around so much light. Izumi bowed again, hugging the card to her chest. “Thank you, Mr. All Might.”

“Of course! Anything for a future hero.”

Izumi straightened. Okay, yeah, maybe Izumi was a fan again. She should get an All Might plush for her other zipper; she’s sure she has one hidden away somewhere from when she and Kacchan-

Wait.

Wait.

Did he just say…?

“A hero?”

“A hero!” All Might affirmed, jumping into a pose as he flexed his bulging muscles. “I know an aspiring hero when I see one! That was an impressive use of your quirk and quick thinking in a high-stress situation. Those are important skills to have for a Pro. It’ll serve you well.”

Izumi hands flailed as she stumbled back, gaping around a sweatdrop, mind whirring. Her? Her? A hero? No, no way. The thought was so absurd she tripped over herself.

“Oh! No, no sir. You have it mixed up. I’m not a hero-or, hero material anyway.” She scratched the side of her cheek, blushing. Even she was surprised at how much the thought had her flustered. What a crazy day. “I’m just, ah, well… me.”

Another chuckle, warm again. “Young lady, from where I’m standing, ‘just you’ looked pretty heroic to me.”

Oh.

Izumi was so shocked she couldn’t even blush again. Her? A hero? She thought of everything anyone has ever said to her, about her - knobby elbows, skinny, ugly freckles, too tan face, weird eyes, awkward, shy, timid, quiet, plain-looking, nerdy, dummy…

And, now hero.

Paradigm shift.

Izumi shook her head, mentally batting away the praise. This was All Might. Of course, he wa just being nice. Izumi sighed, almost relieved, a little resigned. Of course, All Might was just being nice.

That made more sense.

Izumi went to bow again and thank him; truly, she was touched.

It was just like the Number One Hero to try to go and uplift everyone around him, and he signed the card for Kacchan, but a sight made her stop. A rising red staining the white of his shirt on his left side.

Was that…?

“Mr. All Might, you’re bleeding.”

All Might jumped, glanced down. The next laugh he let out sounded strained - unsure.

“Ah! An old wound, don’t you worry. You can’t be Number One without a few bumps, right?” All Might turned, Izumi couldn’t look away from the red. “ I’m off to the station now, stay safe!”

Then All Might, the World’s Greatest Hero, was off; launching himself into the sky in a single powerful jump.

Izumi didn’t even realize she had reached out for him, her body moving on it’s own, until she was midair too.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

A great hand wrapped protectively around the young girl’s quivering, suspended frame as she hung to his pant leg; whether she was shaking with fear or the cold, he wasn’t sure.

The air was chillier above the skyline.

All Might sighed deeply.

Children.

A short flight later, they were on a rooftop.

The city roared below and Izumi looked like she was having some sort of seizure or malfunction, but really she was bowing; deeply and repeatedly.

“Sorry,sorry,sorry,…”

“Young lady, there’s no need to apologize anymore. I just need to know why you did it. That was very dangerous.”

Izumi shrank into herself, chin tucked, bag hugged to her chest, and card clutched between two fingers. Thank goodness she never let go of it. “I don’t know sir, I’m so sorry. I just… you looked hurt.”

All Might started, weathered and battered heart swelling with a feeling it used to carry in it always - something like awe or hope. Misguided and impulsive yes, but this was a sweet and intuitive girl.

He dulled the steel in his voice, tried to ignore the steam wafting up from his pores. There was no need to scold her anymore. This instance will have been lesson enough -and he’s running out of time.

“Very well. I understand, but remember young lady, that cannot happen again. That was dangerous and you coud’ve been very hurt, or hurt someone else. Sometimes we have to think before we do impulsive things, even if you have good intentions.”

“Yes sir.” Izumi whispered, then because she was nosy and never learned, “ Are you going to be okay?”

The red on his shirt was deep and crimson, stark against the pristine white. Izumi could still see it clearly from there, even as he turned to jump away.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me. I’ll get it looked at after the station.”

“Okay… thank you again, sir. Sorry for -” Wait. “Uh, Mr.All Might? Where am I?”

All Might stopped in his tracks. Dammit, he miscalculated - a rookie oversight on his part.

Poof!

Izumi yelped at the cloud of smoke that burst from nowhere. From the fog, a dishiveled, skeletal-looking man appeared, with frail, unkempt hair and clothes too baggy for his sunken frame.

Izumi shrieked.

All Might - no - Yagi Toshinori sighed, deep.

He was getting too old for this.

The sun was setting just slightly over the horizon. Not long had passed between the rooftop and now, but Izumi’s world was shaken.

“The villain was that bad?”

“Yes, he was that bad.”

The street around them glowed with the last gold of day. Long shadows pooled beneath telephone wires, the low hum of the city folding softly into the quiet. To anyone passing them on the sidewalk Izumi and her companion must’ve looked ordinary, like two normal people walking back from the store or school. Unassuming.

The man bathed in that fading light next to Izumi, sunlight and shadow caught in the folds of his clothes, looked nothing like the hero she knew.

He was too thin beneath his overly large shirt, his shoulders too slouched, but there was no doubt it was All Might. She’d seen him literally shrink with her own eyes. A secret she would now have to keep for the rest of her life.

(Izumi would probably freak out about that later.)

Izumi clutched the card still in her hand. She looked down at the picture of All Might in his prime. Her heart ached when she glanced back up at the skeletal-looking man beside her. Izumi felt almost silly - how could she not imagine the cost of being the Symbol of Peace?

All Might always seemed so unstoppable on TV and in the the videos online but, well -

A hero was still human too.

“Is it… is it safe for you to still be out there? Patrolling?”

A car honked in the silence between the two. A lark began to sing. All Might looked startled, his sunken eyes wide, then he laughed -warm and low. The spiderwebs by his eyes crinkled with mirth. Izumi beamed.

“Yes, young Midoriya. It is.” A skinny arm flexed. “I’m still the Symbol of Peace, aren’t I? The job’s not done yet.”

Stars shone in green eyes. “Sugoi.”

All Might chuckled again. He supposed he should be more concerned about a random young civilian knowing one of his most closely guarded secrets - but he just wasn’t. He’d always trusted his instincts, and this young girl…

All Might wasn’t worried about finding his secret on a Reddit thread anytime soon, that was for sure.

The duo stopped at an intersection; All Might was heading south toward the police station, while Izumi was heading west - toward Musutafu General Hospital. The rooftop All Might had dropped them off on was closer to her mom’s workplace than home, so Izumi decided to walk there and surprise her.

It worked out perfectly, really. Despite the light feeling blooming in her chest from spending the past thirty-five minutes in the presence of the Number One Hero, the thought of going home to an empty apartment and sitting in her room alone - after everything that had happened today…

No, thank you.

“All right then. I’m off now. You sure you will be okay by yourself, young lady?”

Izumi nodded, she knew she would be fine, but she did find herself oddly nervous. “ Mhm. I’ll be fine. It’s only a few blocks away.”

“Very well, take care of yourself. Please, no more grabbing on to strangers.” A pause, then a breath, “ I know you understand, but I would be remiss to not say it again… the secret of my injury and my true form…”

Izumi nodded again, resolved. A sense of responsibility swelled in her chest.

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll keep your secret, no matter what.”

“Hmm. I’m sure you will.” All Might turned, and Izumi watched as this unsuspecting - borderline scary-looking - man, with a villain trapped in a Coke bottle tucked into his cargo pocket, started down the street.

He lifted a hand and waved lazily over his shoulder. “Be careful on your way to the hospital.”

“Yes, sir!” Izumi chirped, waving wildly in the middle of the sidewalk. Adults looked at her oddly as they passed. She made a note to herself to pull one of her old All Might posters out of storage once she got home. “Bye! Thank you again!”

Izumi never made it to the hospital.

Three blocks from her destination, there was a commotion that caught her attention instead-it was so loud.

The air burned around the edges, singeing her throat the closer she got to where the crowd amassed. Heroes in the fray yelled, shouting over each other, orders tangling in with the crowds rising whispers. Thick smoke and blazing flames darkened the street, bathing it grey.

Izumi should’ve been done with horror and villains for the day, that instance made three just today, but curiosity got the best of her. She didn’t realize she had pushed herself off the pole into the heart of the crowd until her eyes started to sting she was so close to the scene. Pressed right against he crime scene tape.

Liquid, writhing green. A thick sludge pulsed at the heart of the inferno, hidden by the fire but, Izumi still recognized him.

Her stomach dropped.

“Call for backup! I can’t get to him!”

“Wood and fire don’t mix, better to wait for someone with a more suited quirk to arrive.”

“Where’s Backdraft?”

“Just hold on a littler longer kid!”

An explosion, the ground shook. Izumi leaned against a pole. She felt woozy. This was… this looked…

How? How was he here?

Another rattling boom, smoke rose and fell like a breath. Izumi saw the whites of a beady eye, rolling in it’s socket.

Hadn’t All Might…? Izumi groaned as her gut clenched in realization. She was breathing heavy and sweating with the sweltering heat coming in from her front, where the sludge villain cackled wildly, firelight glinting off his slime. Horror pulsed in Izumi.

She had done this.

All Might… when she grabbed him… during the flight, he must’ve…

Why weren’t they doing anything? Izumi thought with horror. There were plenty of heroes around, but they stood still, staring as the flames climbed higher. Why weren’t they moving?

Izumi pushed through the sea of people, making her way to the front of the crowd…

Tearful green eyes met the gaze of a watery, slitted red.

Silence fell; muting the screams and booms of explosions until the only thing Izumi could hear was the sound of ringing in her ears.

Memories, a short lifetime full of them, flashed across her mind, rapid as the tides.

Kachaan and Izumi as children, tender-cheeked and hearted. Kachaan alone, cheering on the hero on TV, declaring he was going to be a cool hero too. A shark-toothed smile. Sweaty palms clasped with her own.

“Dummy Izumi, hold my hand. You’ll fall.”

A single quivering step.

Two.

Suddenly, Izumi was sprinting, feet pounding against scorched asphalt. The world blurred. Fire danced at the edges of her vision, mixing with the red-orange blur of cars lined along the street past the flames and the gray haze. Heat stung the skin of her cheeks and smoke clawed at her throat, scorching her lungs with every ragged breath. She must’ve looked as unsteady as she felt - tripping over herself, backpack thumping against her spine as she ran. Adults screamed behind her, calling for a kid to come back and stop being an idiot.

“No!”

“Who is that?!”

“Come back little girl!”

“What is she doing?!”

Izumi barely heard it through the thunder of her heartbeat and racing thoughts. What do I do?! What do I do -

A single eye zeroed in on Izumi, one she’d make eye contact with barely an hour ago.

“Whaa… the girl?”

Izumi’s backpack was shrugged off within a second, she grabbed the straps, spun and launched the pack into his weird, overly exposed eyeball.

“Ughh!” The villian yelled, rearing back. Kachaan’s face popped out from the mess of smoke and slime, gasping.

A feeling lanced through Izumi - sharp, white, and all encompassing - as the air around her shifted.

It wasn’t fear - or wasn’t only fear - it was something else. It was an instinct, raw and visceral, pressure building under her ribs and swelling. The air trembled in sync with Izumi’s pulse. Ash lifted off the ground in tiny bursts, swirling like dust caught in a breath as she ran.

That electric feeling sizzled beneath her skin, tingling in her palms. Pressure rose. The smoke no longer moved naturally, curving ever so slightly, away from her.

“Get off me!” Kacchan roared, another explosion rattling the nearby buildings.

Izumi stumbled backward, barely dodging a stray tendril of slime that lashed toward her. She hit the ground hard, launched herself back onto two feet, and finally closed the distance between them. Her arm rose, palm out toward the villain, her voice was hoarse with smoke and panic -

“ STOP IT!”

And the pressure snapped.

A crescendo.

It crashed over Izumi like a wave, rolling through her, then pushing out.

The air warped, bending outward in a flash that carried force but no sound. For an instant, Izumi’s whole world —the fire bowed, smoke scattered, and the asphalt cracked in a perfect ring around her.

The sludge villain’s body tore mid-laugh, fragments of green splattering against the street. He was flung backward, crashing into the nearest building with a sound that wasn’t quite an explosion, but something deeper. 

Izumi’s hair whipped around her face. The force rattled her bones. Pain lanced through Izumi’s temples as she crumpled with a whine, scrapping her knees through her leggings under her skirt. Izumi gripped her pounding skull, and tried to open her eyes, but it hurt.

Izumi felt woozy.Izumi ground her forehead into the concrete below her from where she was on her knees. The pounding radiated down the back of her neck now, making her stomach flip.

Voices bled in through the rushing in her ears—

“As if that’ll work on me twice. I’ve had enough of you, meat suit!”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Someone screamed.

“Grab her!”

“It’ll kill her!”

Another explosion detonated close enough to rattle her teeth. She couldn’t see it, but a lean silhouette ricocheted toward her through the haze of fire and smoke. Heat washed over her, followed by the sickly scent of burnt caramel. In her daze, she couldn’t place it.

Rough hands seized her - one at the scruff of her uniform collar, yanking her back into a thin, heaving chest; the other locking around her torso like iron. Sweat dripped onto the slightly exposed skin under collar. Not hers.

“Die, green scum!” A familiar voice yelled - grating and ugly.

Oh - it’s Kacchan. Kacchan…?

Izumi’s breath hitched as Katsuki dragged her lower, shoving her flat against the ground. The heat radiating off him swallowed her whole. He dropped over her in a shield of sweat, smoke, and explosive crackle; body braced, and breaths snarling.

Pops and sharp cracks detonated inches from her skull, blending with the screams and the ragged, furious rasp of Kacchan’s breathing. Izumi felt every tremor of him—every explosion primed under his palms.

A powerful jolt shook both of them, sending them rolling across the asphalt until Katsuki’s full weight landed flat over her, arms caging her head as he shielded her. Izumi’s ears rang violently; her whole body tremored. Gods, her head hurt so bad—like something was clawing at the inside of her skull.

“You die, kid!” the villain snarled, voice warping through the smoke. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Katsuki’s muscles locked above her, bracing for the next strike—

—when a shadow blotted out the firelight.

Izumi’s breath hitched as she felt two giant hands clamp around the backs of their collars. Something colossal slammed into the street, force rippling outward in a shockwave, then -

“SMASH!”

The world cracked open. Wind roared. Iuzmi and Katsuki dangled above ground, blowing roughly with the wind.

And then, rain.

A sudden downpour hissed against the smoldering asphalt, steam curling upward as the world went quiet all at once.

The last thing Izumi saw before her vision blurred was the unmistakable silhouette towering over them, shopping bag swaying useless in the artificial wind.

It was All Might.

Rain cooled the burning air. Confused murmurs wafted toward Izumi with the breeze as she swayed. Her world dimmed at the edges, heat and smoke peeling away into soft static.

Somewhere above her, still clutched in All Might’s grip as well, a voice cracked - raw and furious and scared.

“Oi! Freckles! Don’t you dare pass out right now, idiot! Go die somewhere else!”

Izumi tried to turn her head toward him. Her eyes were still closed, the darkness deepening

“Sorry Kacha…”

Then nothing. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: Rises the Moon

細い流れでも、川の流れを変えることができる。

“Even a faint current can change the rivers course.”

Japanese proverb

Izumi woke up to moonlight and tachycardia.

Light spilled through the hospital window in sheets of cool silver, scattering across her blanket, her bandaged palms, and the supple curve of tan cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open. The shimmering light caught the green in them, turning them bright and glassy despite their haze.

The memories came back in pieces, drawing out the sound of her too-quick heart.

The heat. The screams. Kacchan’s weight over her, protective and shaking. The sound of her own voice and the wave of her push.

Izumi sucked in a breath. It caught her in her throat. Her chest ached. The heart monitor sped up even more.

Beep-beep-beepbeepbeep…

She turned her head carefully, vision sliding across the room until it landed on a familiar round figure, folded uncomfortably into a wooden chair by her bedside.

“Mom…?”

A delicate snort and a start. Another pair of green eyes watered, twinkling under the light of a wan moon.

“Oh, Izumi, dear.” Her mother whispered softly, voice trembling with the quiver in her lips. She was out of her scrubs, wearing her normal pink sweater and white button-up. The only visible sign that they were at her workplace was that her hair was in a tight bun behind her neck, not the usual half-up, half-down green bun. Izumi squinted in confusion. How long…?

“Izumi, how are you feeling, baby? Confused? Disoriented? Can you tell me what day it is?”

“Mom?” Izumi whispered, voice thready and feather soft. “What happened ?”

“Oh, Izumi, there was an attack.” Heavy tears dripped a river down cool, pale cheeks. Beyond the window, a cloud drifted steadily, and it’s shadow swept across Inko’s face. “A villain got poor Katsuki -he’s okay- but that seemed so scary. Baby, it was the same one the police said attacked you earlier.”

Izumi’s head swam. She recognized the words individually, but together they weren't making sense. Distant memories shuttered through Izumi’s mind in stills of blotted greens and blurs of orange-red.

“My poor baby you fought off a villain twice. You should’ve called me right away after the first attack, I would’ve come pick you up immediatly. And, with Katsuki… what got into you? You were so so brave, baby - but why did you run into the fight like that? You could’ve been seriously injured.”

Oh. Right. Izumi remembered clearer now; before the fire, there was the tunnel.

The tunnel. All Might’s secret.

The syrup in Izumi’s brain churned, her thoughts gummy and slow, but one thing spiked through her confusion solidly.

Izumi shot up from the bed, or tried at least, ignoring the twinge of the IV in her arm. Inko fluttered as the already fast beat of Izumi’s heart sped up. The heart monitor machine rang an alarm.

“Mom,” Izumi gasped, wet-eyed and shaking. She thought of the broken, gaunt man with the bloody shirt. “All Might - Mr. All Might- where is he? Is he okay?”

Her mother opened her mouth to say something, but the voice that answered wasn’t hers. It came from Izumi’s left; lower, heavier.

“Young Midoriya,” a man rumbled, baritone deep and reverberating as the rumble before a storm. It sounded nothing like the bright, booming cadence of All Might.

Izumi whipped her head to the side, ignoring the dull throb in her temples. When All Might stepped out from the shadowed corner of her hospital room the shadows stayed in his eyes.

“Mr. All Might, are you okay?”

A breath and a laugh.

“Young Midoryia, I should be the one asking you that. You gave us quite a fright. I’m glad you’re okay. You had us worried there for a minute.”

Us?...

Izumi was confused - until she wasn’t.

Oh!

Izumi squeaked and whipped her head to her mother, who sat primly in her seat, spine straight and lips pursed - not a hint of surprise in her expression. Izumi looked between the man and her mother, a little frantic. Oh no.

“Ahhh, um… mom - uh.”

Dang. Izumi couldn’t even keep his secret for a full day.

At least, she assumed it had been less than a day.

“Settle down now, Young Midoriya. I spoke to your mother; she knows. I couldn’t hold my form any longer but I needed to make sure you were okay.”

Izumi turned to her mother, then back to All Might. “And, that’s … okay?”

Inko and All Might shared a look - woah - and both nodded. Inko rose from her seat and ducked down to give Izumi a little hug. Izumi leaned into it - her mother smelled like water and pine. Like home.

“All Might asked to speak to with you when you woke up. He’s been here all evening - it’s almost midnight, and you’ve been unconscious since you got here. I’m going to step out and call the nurses to let them know you’re up. You’re okay, thank goodness, no injuries. Just some quirk exhaustion. You should be discharged by the morning, baby.”

Inko leaned back and moved to the hospital room door, but Izumi stopped her.

Explosions, heat on her cheeks. Pain in her temples, then a hard, thin body over her own.

Fire, the smell of burnt caramel, and fear in red eyes. A familiar voice - scared and grating.

“If you’re going to die, do it somewhere else!”

Izumi exhaled a shaky breath. “Mom- Kacchan… you said he was okay?”

Inko’s wide eyes went glassy, luminescent with the light of its own moon.

“Yes, dear. He’s okay - no injuries or anything. He was so brave, protecting you like that. You guys were always so close… Mitsuri and I worried about how you two have been over the years, but,” Inko’s voice cracked with emotion, “ the way you two showed up for each other when there was so much danger…”

Izumi blushed, glancing down at the cotton beneath her palms. Feelings she couldn’t name swirled in her chest, a little embarrassment, lingering fear, and something else - something warnm and girlish. Potent, but muted by her exhaustion and the rhythm of her own unsteady heartbeat.

She’d make sense of it all later. This was all too much. 

Izumi’s mom sniffled, then said one more thing before drifting out of the room, still wiping the tears in her eyes.

“Oh! I’ll have to call Mitsuri. The Bakugos only just left an hour ago. Katsuki was refusing to leave, but he got discharged so long ago, and it was getting late…”

Izumi gasped.

Kachhan… was refusing to leave?

Next to her, All Might hummed low with laughter.

“Young Bakugo is something, isn’t he?”

“You spoke to him?”

Izumi wondered how the Kacchan, now - hot-headed and mean and so complicated - reacted to meeting All Might.

“Yes, Young Izumi. Young Bakugo is… spirited, but his heart is as loud as his quirk. It just seems dangerous to those who don’t pay attention. He showed bravery, exceptional talent, and, despite his abrasive personality, the ability to put the safety of someone else over his own. It was incredibly heroic.”

“I know! He’s going to be such a great hero, isn’t he?”

If only he knew it.

“I’m sure he will be. They say the sign of a true hero is when your body moves on its own. Today his did… as did yours.”

“Oh! No, no - it was nothing really. I just ah, uh - well-”

“Izumi,” All Might interrupted. Izumi sucked in a breath at the gravity in his voice. Something in the air shifted; a hush settled, and a heaviness unfurled in the moonlit space between them.

“Young Midoriya,” All Might continued, voice lowered with meaning, “you showed exceptional bravery today - the heart of a true hero. You moved when no one else would. Not me. Not the bystanders. Not even the pro heroes at the scene. Your heart answered a call before your mind could. And that instinct… it propelled all of us, Young Bakugo and myself included,  forward.”

Izumi trembled beneath her covers without realizing it, eyes wide and unfocused. His words… they sounded…Not her -

“That kind of selfless courage,” he said gently, “ it reminded me of a teacher I once knew.”

He paused. Moonlight caught the gaunt edges of his face — softening nothing, but revealing everything.

“You, Izumi Midoriya… remind me of her.”

Izumi’s breath hitched. All Might's gaze softened further, touched with something like grief - and hope.

“Without you, I would’ve been a worthless bystander today, so thank you.” A pause and a breath. “The woman you remind me of was a brave woman with an unwavering spirit and a heart that beat only for justice. My old master… Nana Shimura.”

The room went impossibly still. “I see her in you, young Izumi,” he finished, voice trembling at the edges, “and I would like to believe she would agree with the decision I am about to make.”

“The decision…?” Izumi whispered, head spinning. Goosebumps showered her skin, tingling down to the tips of her fingers. She didn't realize it but she’d started to cry, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Everything All Might was saying… it sounded like… Izumi didn’t even know what it sounded like. She just knew that it was too much for someone like her.

All Might drew in a slow breath, steadying"

“Young Midoriya… there is a power that can be passed from one person to another. A sacred torch,” he said gently, eyes gleaming with something ancient and aching. "My quirk it’s called One For All. It’s a stockpiling quirk, passed down through the generations, gathering the strength of each of it’s wielders.” He stepped closer, moonlight haloing the sharp, sunken planes of his face. “I received this power from my master, and she from the user before her. It’s a quirk only someone with a true hero’s spirit can inherit…. someone like you, Izumi.”

Something thrummed low in Izumi’s chest, faint but insistent - a pressure that wasn’t her quirk and wasn’t her heartbeat, something in between. The air felt thicker, denser, as if it was waiting on his next words too.

“Young lady, you too can become a hero.”

And then, under moonlight and between dawns, All Might told her how.

After he finished, the moment lingered - fragile, unreal, and impossibly huge - until Izumi felt her heart finally stumble back into her chest.

One second passed.

Two.

Izumi asked to see her mom.

“Oh. I forgot to mention…

This is the story of how I became the world’s greatest hero.”

Yagi’s Interlude

The hospital corridor was quiet when Yagi Toshinori finally stepped out, the door clicking softly behind him. Midnight pooled through the long windows, pale and thin, the hospital’s chill seeping through the bandages beneath his shirt. He exhaled slowly, letting tension drain from his ruined frame.

What a day, All Might…

Yagi walked.

Down the hall, past quiet nurses’ stations and dim emergency lights. Each step echoed louder than he intended; he had never gotten used to how small he was and how heavy his footsteps sounded in this body  - or how tired he constantly felt.

The day had been long, and the night was even longer. It was morning now, though the sun was nowhere to be found. He had stayed another hour with both the girl and her mother, talking through the truth of One For All. Then another hour with just the mother - Inko, she’d insisted he call her - discussing the potential dangers, the responsibilities, and what it would mean long-term if Young Midoriya were to say yes.

Gods, Yagi wanted her to say yes.

His thoughts drifted back to the day before - the girl’s sudden, desperate push against the sludge villain, her immediate worry over his health, and then her dash into the fire for her friend.

The girl was quiet and mousy and soft, unlike his master, who had been loud and brash; but in her selflessness, in her kindness, in the unwavering way she moved to protect others…

She reminded Yagi of Nana Shimura.

It didn’t make much sense, even to him, but he saw it clearly. There was something in the essence of the girl - a steely warmth and unyielding grit beneath her timidness.

And the boy…

It had been years since Yagi abandoned his investigation into the earliest wielders, so maybe his memory was faulty, and he was just an old man seeing ghosts, like men his age tended to do; but Yagi was almost certain he’d seen the First User in Young Bakugo’s face.

The red eyes. The smooth skin. The high cheekbones, sharp chin, and mass of spiked hair.

Yagi saw it first when the boy had thrown himself over Young Midoriya — eyes narrowed, palm raised. He saw even more of it in the boy’s side profile later, after he’d finished growling and snarling at hospital staff and had finally calmed down. Eyes lowered, chin tucked into his collar, face smoothed into something unexpectedly young.

Uncannily similar to the picture tucked away in a case folder in a box in Yagi’s attic.

Seeing them together - side by side in the heat of danger - he had glimpsed two echoes of the seven wielders staring back at him.

Yagi Toshinori was not a spiritual man, but he was a man of strong belief, and that had to mean something.

It had to - or at least, Yagi was choosing to believe so.

Yagi Toshinori - better known as All Might - walked out into the cool morning air with a tired smile and eyes twinkling beneath their shadows. The neon of the kobini light flickered across the street, the sun prepared to rise in the east, and One for All inside Yagi burned low.

For the first time in years, All Might wasn’t afraid of what came next.