Chapter Text
If Denki Kaminari got the chance, he'd go back and stop it.
But that's not an option.
***
The argument that night had been intense. Denki’s mother had been especially harsh, her words biting, cutting deeper than any reprimand. She had found out about his slipping grades and his "daydreaming" in class — too distracted and too ungrounded, according to her.
But more than that, it was the fact he was still so reckless with his quirk. However this time, it wasn’t about how “dangerous” he was. There was this thing that happened to his brain when he exceeded his voltage limit: It short-circuited.
His teacher noticed that during physical education. when they were training quirks. To Denki those short-circuits weren’t comfortable, if anything, it felt like something was forcefully making him act dumb, but his mother hadn’t let him speak all night, so he never even got to tell her.
“You think the world will tolerate that?” she had hissed, voice low but dripping with contempt. “You don’t think your… your accidents have consequences? People like you — you’re not made for mistakes, Denki.”
Denki had clenched his fists, but he’d said nothing. Not like he could have, anyway.
The words echoed in his head long after he went up to his room, repeating over and over like a tape on a loop. He didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to believe it — but somehow, the weight of it pressed down on him anyway, sinking deeper with every repeat.
He wasn’t made for mistakes because he was stronger than many other people. He wasn’t made for mistakes because his mistakes could hurt people.
But he wasn’t alone! All Might could crush someone with his strength, Endeavor could set someone on fire…. why was his mother scolding him like this!?
Denki tossed and turned in bed. He didn’t know how long he lay there, staring at the ceiling, his mind looping back over her words, her anger. He was getting older now, his quirk getting stronger — but all he ever heard was how much of a problem it was. How much of a risk he was.
With a sigh, no, more of a groan, he pulled the blanket over his head. If he kept thinking about this, he’d surely go insane.
Sleep came slowly, but it came.
Not for long, though.
Something stirred within him.
In the quiet depths of his mind, a presence, not yet distinct, but not “Denki” anymore, began to wake — the part of him that refused to stay silent, the part that wanted to unleash the full, crackling power coursing through his veins. Where Denki hesitated, this other part felt alive, eager, but all it could usually do was sit back.
Not that night. That night, “Other Denki” — not yet fully conscious, but driven by a need to let his quirk free — took over, forcing his body out of sleep, clinging to this newfound control
And with control came, for the first time, a real conscience. The anger had boiled over, the frustration had become too much.
This wasn’t the simple need to let his quirk run wild, no, this was new. “Denki” blinked, staring down at his hands. He wasn’t Denki, at least not the one he usually had to watch from the back of his mind. He was different.
“Denki” moved his body, standing up slowly. His room was dark. the only source of light the two big roof windows. Moonlight shone onto the grey covers, the yellow carpet, the All Might posters, and the unfinished homework on the desk.
He knew it all but none of this belonged to him. Well, it did belong to him, just not, him.
“Denki” closed his eyes and felt for the other presence in his mind, but he was still asleep. He rubbed his face. And then decided that he wasn’t gonna question the “how”s and “why”s of this.
He was his own person now, so he’d use this damn freedom.
No longer than 15 minutes later, found himself standing in the middle of the empty sidewalk outside his house, electricity crackling in his hands, the blue light casting an eerie glow in the night. And this time, he didn’t hold back.
“Denki” ran across the street, away from his block, until he found an empty alley right next to a power box.
Electricity surged out from his fingers, lashing out to the power lines above. One by one, the streetlights burst, going dark, until the entire street was blanketed in darkness. The raw energy spilled over, and he pushed it farther, letting the surge pulse out to the blocks around him, his quirk stretching across the neighborhood, lighting up power lines until the surge became too much, cutting out the grid.
It wasn’t long before the entire district lost power.
He bent over, resting his hands on his knees for a moment before shooting upright again. There were noises - people shouting, doors opening. As quickly as he could, he ran back to “his” home, climbing up the balcony and leaping into his father’s office. He slid across the wooden floor a moment, before coming to a halt just in front of the white bookshelves, then he turned on his heels to rush into “his” room.
Changing back into your pajamas is easy, but changing in a way that, the next morning, no one will know you even had them exchanged for something else, that’s a task. A task “Denki” managed to do perfectly.
His head hit the pillows and his presence faltered, flickered until it was at the very back of his mind again.
The next morning, Denki awoke feeling as if he hadn’t slept at all. His body was calm and exhausted at the same time. Maybe from the nightmare he had.
He sure hoped these nightmares wouldn’t become a regular thing.
***
Meanwhile, in a worn-down building not far from Musutafu, a man wearing a dark suit and seated at a large desk tilted his head slightly as the news of the blackout reached him.
“Sir,” a man in black-and-blue tactical gear spoke with urgency, glancing nervously as he continued, “we’ve detected an unusual quirk signature near Musutafu. The entire district’s lost power.”
All for One raised a gloved hand, silencing the lackey with a slight wave. His head tilted just so, as though he was listening more intently than usual.
“An entire district? An unrefined power, no less…” A smile curved beneath his mask, sharp and calculating. “That’s not the kind of signature that belongs to an ordinary delinquent.”
He considered it for a moment, letting the implications settle. An electric quirk with the potential to cut power to a whole district, barely controlled but potent, filled with untapped energy. It was rare to encounter one so raw. But with the right guidance… the right control… the right influence...
“Send me his location,” he said finally, his voice a soft rumble, barely audible but entirely commanding.
This would be worth investigating personally. He’d have to get his gear.
***
A few days passed, and the blackout incident already fading from news reports. But “Denki” still remembered, his chest swelling with a faint sense of pride at the thought of what he’d managed.
It was a quiet night, with only a few lingering streetlights left to illuminate the street -well, they stopped illuminating anything after he was done with them - He was happy to be out again, a faint smirk on his face, ready to see what he could cut next, when he felt it — a strange, tingling sensation, as though the atmosphere had shifted around him.
The power box, not the same one as last time, he had made sure of that, wasn’t far from his reach. But he paused, seeing a shadow move behind it.
/
The boy, with his blond hair and slouched posture, had looked out of place here in the dead of night. But as his hand rose, fingers stretching toward the streetlamp, All for One had watched as arcs of electricity danced across his skin, lighting up the night in a flash of blue.
With one quiet flick of his fingers, the boy had overloaded the streetlight, sending sparks raining down and plunging the street into darkness.
And he hadn’t stopped there. He walked past another, then another, pulling every drop of energy from the lights around him until the entire street went dark. For a moment, the boy just stood there, hands glowing faintly with residual energy like he could feel the hum of power beneath his skin.
He was staring in the direction where All for One stood, as if he sensed him.
It was then that All for One stepped forward, his figure shifting in the darkness, a shadow emerging from behind a power box.
“You,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur, but cutting through the quiet night like a blade. The boy’s head jerked toward him, his eyes narrowed in surprise. All for One took another step forward, his calm, measured gaze fixed on the boy. “You’re the one causing all of this.”
The boy’s expression wavered, a hint of defiance in his stance, but All for One raised a hand, a strange kind of reassurance in his voice. “Relax,” he said, watching as the boy’s shoulders remained tense but his expression softened slightly.
“I’ve seen many with gifts like yours,” he continued, voice rich and persuasive, as if speaking to an equal. “But rarely one with such raw, untempered potential. You don’t have to waste that power, not if you’re willing to learn to refine it.”
/
He had been caught. The quiet thrill of draining all the electricity from the streetlamps had disappeared, replaced by a rush of panic. He wanted to bolt, to run, to get away before whatever had just happened — whatever had noticed him — could catch up.
But then, the man’s gaze met his, and for reasons “Denki” couldn’t explain, he didn’t run. He couldn’t.
The stranger’s presence didn’t just scare him. It intrigued him. No one had ever really noticed him before. Not like this. The people around him just saw his quirk as a risk, a danger, something they couldn’t control. His mom, his dad — they treated his power as something to be suppressed, something dangerous. He wasn’t supposed to let it out. Ever.
But here was a man, standing before him, looking at him as though he were something… special.
“Denki” swallowed, unsure of what to do, his fingers still twitching with leftover electricity. He had half a mind to leave, to just get out of there before things went further. But something held him there, like he was stuck in place by invisible chains.
“What do you want from me?” “Denki” asked, the words almost slipping out before he could stop them. His voice wavered slightly, despite his best efforts to sound unaffected. It was hard not to, though.
This man radiated something “Denki” couldn’t quite place. Power? Maybe. But there was something else there, something… calming. As if this stranger knew exactly how to handle someone like him. As if he had experience.
The man tilted his head slightly, “Denki” could tell he was studying him with a kind of casual curiosity that made his skin itch.
“I want nothing,” he replied smoothly, almost like he was toying with “Denk”’’s expectations. “Not right now. But when you’re ready, I’ll show you what your quirk can truly do. Your potential - it’s extraordinary.”
“Denki”’s chest tightened. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until now. He had always felt that there was something more to his power, something hidden deep inside, but it had always been buried under a cloud of uncertainty — the fear of hurting someone, fear of losing control was so deeply planted inside of him that even he, who wasn't supposed to hesitate, felt it.
But now… this man was telling him there was more. More than just the jolt of energy he used to turn lights off. More than just a dangerous, uncontrollable force. This stranger was speaking as though his power was… valuable. Just a few words, and “Denki” already felt like he would agree to whatever.
As the man took a step back into the shadows, he gestured with a slow, inviting motion for “Denki” to follow. “Walk with me,” he said, his voice soft but steady, a quiet command rather than a request.
“Denki” didn’t hesitate. Something about this man’s presence felt magnetic, like a force he couldn’t — and didn’t want to — resist. Here was someone who didn’t look at his quirk with fear or frustration. Here was someone who saw power and knew how to wield it. He could sense it.
They turned into a narrow alley, the glow the street fading behind them as they walked deeper into darkness. “Denki’’s footsteps echoed alongside the man’s, each one feeling like a beat that was pushing him forward, pushing him into something bigger than himself. He felt a strange excitement building — the feeling that this path might finally take him somewhere other than dead ends and disappointment.
Not that he ever was on the receiving end of that disappointment. He had learned that not even Denki realized he existed. To him, what “Denki” did was barely a memory, and his parents had no idea that he was causing the outages.
He existed to no one but himself, and now, that man.
The man’s gaze lingered on the boy before him. Small for his age, but holding that unmistakable, volatile energy, sparking around his fingers, lighting up his face in flashes of pale blue. Interesting. He was almost… disappointed the mystery was solved. He had hoped for a stray villain with a unique quirk, not a child.
And with how much electricity was sparking off of this boy, he clearly hadn't had enough yet.
He took a step closer, watching as the boy’s stance didn’t shift, eyes narrowed in challenge. “You’ve been causing quite the disturbance lately,” The man noted smoothly, his tone a mixture of mild curiosity and something darker, almost amused. "Tell me, what’s your name?”
“Denki’’s eyes narrowed, his mouth setting in a hard line. He hesitated, a scowl edging into his expression, suspicious of the question — suspicious of everything.
“Denki,” he said, spat almost, but the word came out cold, disinterested, as if it barely mattered. He wasn’t here for small talk.
The man chuckled, as if entertained by the detachment. “Denki, then. Call me All for One. You’ve got some power in you, don’t you?” He gestured to the distant streetlamp he’d seen flicker out only moments before. “You seem to enjoy a little destruction.”
“Denki” gave a short, sharp nod. “Maybe,” he muttered, eyes drifting back to the path ahead of him. There was no need to hide it. Denki might have cared about things like approval, but him? He was born to disrupt, to cut through the city’s calm like a razor across silk.
All for One’s footsteps slowed slightly, and he glanced at the blond with renewed interest. “You know, Denki, most people would be afraid to use their power like that. They’d be too busy worrying about… consequences.” He leaned down, his voice lowering. “But not you, it seems.”
“Denki” felt a faint thrill run through him, though he kept his expression blank. This man, whoever All for One was, saw him for exactly what he was — not a tool to be managed, not some problem to be fixed, but a source of raw, dangerous potential. Someone who could tear things down if he wanted to. And oh, he wanted to.
“Denki” shrugged, his gaze flickering with a touch of defiance. “I don’t care about safe. Safe is… weak. I can do more than that.” His voice held no hint of question, only cold certainty.
Safe. That was the word his mother described the thing he should aspire to be. Disgusting.
“You have potential, Denki,” All for One continued, his voice smooth, almost soothing. “I can show you how to use it. I can give you the tools you need to be feared and respected, just as you were meant to be.”
“Denki”’s eyes narrowed again, gaze cautious, but his curiosity was piqued. Feared and respected. Those words stuck with him, making a strange kind of sense. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? To be something more than what the people around him thought he should be. He didn’t care if they liked it or not — he wanted them to feel it.
“You’re saying… you’ll help me get stronger?” he asked, tone still suspicious, but the edge was softened, more interested now. Vulnerable even.
All for One’s smiled ever so slightly. “Stronger than you could imagine. All you have to do is follow me.”
And for the first time, “Denki” felt that, maybe, he didn't need to use his power in secret. He didn't need to hide it. He had power and he could show it. And for that, he'd follow the stranger anywhere.
***
One late night, in a forgotten, desolate corner of Musutafu, “Denki” found himself waiting, his heart pounding as he heard footsteps that he had become familiar with echoing down the alley.
He glanced back at the shadowy figure behind him — All for One, watching from the darkness, almost invisible but unmistakably present, like a ghostly commander.
“Tonight is different, Denki,” All for One’s voice drifted from the shadows, cool and measured. “You’ve played with power. Now it’s time to use it.”
“Denki” didn’t respond; he didn’t need to, All for One knew he was listening anyway. The man took some steps towards him and gestured towards a different alley.
A man stood there, holding a small see-through bag in his left hand, glancing around nervously. His face was mostly covered by the shadows of the night, but “Denki” could see him biting his lips.
“A drug dealer.”, All for One hummed behind him. “Denki” shifted to look at him. “He's gonna sell that package to some kids. And we don't want that. We don't want him here at all.”
“Denki” blinked as realization crept up on him. His heartbeat was drumming his ears, but before he could think, All for One gave him a gentle but telling nudge, pushing him into the other alley.
Excitement overshadowed reason.
“Hey, kid, what are you doing out here?” the man asked, taking a cautious step back.
Denki took a step forward as he took one back, his hands buzzing with electric energy. And in a split-second, he released it, letting the power leap from his fingers toward the man, no filter, no control, just pure, undiluted voltage.
Blue bolts leaped forward, slashing against the walls and the man’s eyes went wide as the electricity struck him, muscles locking up as the voltage coursed through his body. He staggered, his shout lost in the hiss and crackle of energy as he dropped to the ground.
***
Denki barely recognized himself in the mornings anymore. His nights were haunted, filled with images he couldn’t explain, memories that were his but didn’t feel like his. Every night, he would fall asleep with a sense of unease, just waiting for the next nightmare.
The nightmares always started the same way: He was in a dark place, an abandoned building, a ragged alleyway, a worn-down block, his hands sparking with blue electricity (blue wasn't even his color!?) his body taut with an aggression that felt disturbingly familiar. And then, the scenes would twist — a shadowy figure watching him, pushing him forward, urging him to use his quirk, to unleash it without restraint.
Denki would feel his fingers crackling, feel the familiar buzz, but in these dreams, there was no filter, no containment. He’d lash out, and suddenly, he was hurting people — strangers, faces twisted in fear, figures dropping to the ground under the force of his voltage, their bodies convulsing and twitching until… they just stopped.
He’d wake up gasping, hands clenched so tight his knuckles were white, yellow electricity sparking involuntarily at his fingertips.
He’d shove his hands under his blanket, hating how the power pulsed through his veins and along his skin. And each time he dreamed, each time he woke up, the memories stayed a little longer, settled a little deeper.
He’d sit up in bed, his body always exhausted from the horrors he saw when asleep.
Were these nightmares warnings that his conscience was sending him? Telling him that, if he ever dared to let his quirk run wild, he'd only end up as a weapon, hurting people?
Even his friends noticed he wasn’t the same. He was quieter, more distant, and when they’d ask if something was wrong, he’d force a smile, try to laugh it off. “Just tired,” he’d say. But he felt like he was living a lie, putting on a mask every time he went to school, pretending to be the same cheerful, slightly clueless kid everyone knew, pretending like his nightmares didn't haunt him.
When he went home, his mother’s voice grated on him more than usual. Every nag, every sharp word, every frustrated sigh felt like it was aimed at the core of him, like she could see something inside him that he didn’t want anyone to see. He would hear her talking to his father when they thought he was asleep, her voice laced with worry, frustration — fear, even.
“He sti short-circuits all the time!!”, she'd say, “He won't ever get into U.A., hell, any hero school like this. Denki needs to look for other stuff he likes.”, she'd say, “Noone wants a hero who can't control his quirk.”
And his father’s responses didn’t help. “He’s a kid. He’s still figuring things out,” his dad would say, trying to calm her down, but there was an unease in his father’s voice too. Denki could hear it, feel it, and it settled like a heavy weight on his chest, like even his family didn’t quite believe he was in control.
But he was. He was getting better. Denki was close to hitting 1 million as his voltage limit, why could noone see that!?
Why did they only ever see his mistakes!?
***
Late at night, when the city lights dimmed and the streets fell into their usual hush, "Denki" found himself once again wandering through quiet alleys, alone.
Well, alone for now.
But that didn't matter. The charge within him was weaker than usual — as if something in his power was holding back. Even as he had reached out toward a streetlamp earlier, he found it only dimming, rather than sparking to his will like it usually did.
And now, even as “Denki” stood here, facing his own reflection in a grimy puddle, he couldn’t shake that feeling. Weakness. Inadequacy. “Why can’t I do it tonight?” he muttered bitterly, as though his own quirk were somehow betraying him.
A quiet chuckle echoed behind him.
“Struggling with a bit of control tonight, aren’t we?”
He knew, of course he did. Probably saw my run in with the streetlamp, “Denki” thought to himself.
The voice, low and smooth, belonged to the man with the strange mask, the one who had been meeting him on these nights for weeks now. The figure stepped out from the shadows, his presence as imposing and calm as ever. All for One. Even though “Denki” felt that strange wariness whenever he looked at where those masked eyes would be, tonight, he couldn’t help but feel oddly relieved by the familiar presence.
“I guess,” "Denki" muttered, trying to shrug it off, though his frustration lingered in his voice.
All for One tilted his head, studying him with a gaze that seemed to pierce through every layer of his mind. “You’re distracted. By that scrape, maybe?” He gestured subtly toward Denki’s shoulder, which still throbbed faintly from the impact that happened at school today.
“What?” "Denki" glanced at him, trying to hide the surprise in his expression. “It’s nothing.”
But All for One only raised an eyebrow. “Denki, let me teach you something about true power.” He stepped closer, his voice growing softer, almost fatherly. Almost “Strength isn’t always about brute force. Sometimes, it’s about precision, about restraint. Tonight may not be your strongest night, but even on these nights, you are formidable. Remember that.”
“Denki” felt his gaze drop, a strange feeling welling up in him, something unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Part of him wanted to brush off the man’s words, but the other part, the one that was always seething and hungry for acknowledgment, absorbed every word like a sponge. He didn’t expect All for One’s next move, though — a gloved hand reaching out, resting gently atop his head.
The touch was so slight that "Denki" almost thought he’d imagined it, but the warmth lingered, and that strange surge of recognition — of something he’d once yearned for but never received — washed over him. It was… soothing. Steadying. The simple gesture left him almost frozen, wide-eyed and silent, his usual cocky facade momentarily slipping.
“Don’t let anyone make you feel inadequate, Denki,” All for One continued, his voice low and cold. “You have a gift, one that most people can’t begin to understand. You may be young, but potential like yours is rare. Powerful.”
“Denki” swallowed, feeling an odd tightness in his throat. He wanted to roll his eyes, to shake it off, to scoff at the sentiment, but he couldn’t muster any of it. The mask of bravado cracked just a little, and for a brief moment, he felt like a kid — a kid who was finally seen, finally appreciated.
Maybe I'm not half bad.
“Right,” he muttered, his voice almost a whisper. “I… I’ll do better next time.” He straightened a bit, the simmering anger and frustration in him beginning to shift, blending with a new determination.