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it is said that men have two faces. one smiles, the other cries. the same is true of the greatest hero of all time.
—who now finds himself dazed in front of the glaring studio lights of a morning variety show.
the adoring crowds cheer:
”all might!! look over here!”
”you’re the greatest!”
"i love you!"
he wonders how they can love him when they don't even know him.
“so, all might.” the show host leans in, almost as if they were sharing a secret. "what‘s it like to be the number one professional hero?!"
all might smiles without looking happy. "it's wonderful!"
the lights catch in his eyes, the sound of a young woman’s laughter echoes in his mind. his baby blues dart around briefly.
the host says some witty line in response, and the cruelty of the manufactured laugh track is only a poor facsimile of her laughter. an overwhelming need to leave this place burns red-hot in his head.
shit. we’re almost done with the interview, get yourself together...
rambling on, the host continues, “do you have any thoughts in mind? it’s a beautiful, sunny day! there are plenty of japanese beaches...”
he laughs. “actually, there are many beaches that i’ve had the great fortune to visit!”
that was five years ago, yet—
yet the laughter of that young woman still swirls around his head, like a fly buzzing just out of sight.
this particular day at the seaside park is blessed with good weather. even though midoriya izuku hadn’t really understood that part of being a hero at first, but she had caught on quickly.
as he watches the young girl, humming a small ditty to herself as she cleans up the garbage on the shoreline, a thought springs to his mind.
you will probably make some man very lucky some day, my girl.
deku offers him a smile that stretches from ear to ear, and holds up a pair of conch shells. "you know, you can hear the sound of the ocean if you listen closely enough!"
the lustrous nacre on the outside of the shell is nothing before the brilliance of her smile. the blonde listens in to the shell to humor her, but doesn’t have the heart to tell her he can’t hear much.
she then raises her shoulders bashfully. “do you...know how seashells are formed?”
“no, i don’t, my girl!” he laughs, takes a seat next to her on the blistering sand. “i’d be happy to be educated!”
”well, they’re formed by...” she says. “by laying down protein to form their shells and pouring minerals over them. so, seashells grow from the bottom up, by adding material at the margins.”
if only he was ten years younger.
“they grew from the bottom up, and their strength comes from inside them,” deku concludes, picking up more trash. “so they’re a little like you...! like the person i want to be.”
or twenty years younger.
he shakes his head, puts the thought out of his head, and gazes far ahead at the shoreline. the sea’s waves crash onto the sand.
he laughs, and thinks about telling her to stop nerding out!, but it’s a compliment, so he lets it go. the two of them go to the pier of the boardwalk after their clean up of the park.
there’s no use in wishing on things that have passed.
as he steals a glance at her, he notices deku has kicked off her patent leather shoes, and now dangles her feet off of the boardwalk’s pier. she turns to him, and asks:
“hey... if this is all what being a hero is about, then do you really need a quirk to be a hero...?”
he smiles, and tells her about how she shouldn’t question herself now. but looking at that girl now, he swears that he’ll do anything to protect her smile, shield her from those harsh waves so that they would never find her.
“you know what, that’s-that’s just great. let’s go to commercial break!” he doesn’t seem to particularly care about his opinion on the beaches. turning to the camera, the talk show host says, a grin plastered across his face— “after the break, all might’ll discuss his new sponsorship deal with asahi breweries regarding their new brand of beer!”
he proudly grins at the studio audience, puffs up his chest for extra bravado; but it feels like his muscles are being pulled taut over his bones.
after heading to the dressing room, the older man washes his face in the sink, the water runs peach as he rubs off the stage makeup. as all might looks up into the foggy mirror, he notices his flax-blonde hair is greying at the temples.
even the greatest hero of all time isn’t immune from the endless march of time.
he looks up at the ticking clock which won’t stop its incessant sound. all might walks out of his dressing room, dazed.
someone’s voice calls out, “hey, someone get all might back in makeup, he looks like a corpse–!”
stumbling, he wills himself to maintain this form, for just a little while longer.
as his face is being powdered; the older man recalls recovery girl’s voice scolding him. “you know, why do YOU have to be the one to go on this talk show?”
aizawa’s dull, hoarse drone. “if you go on, you’ll regret it...”
as he’s yanked back into the glaring spotlight; that hero realizes he has so many regrets, but never the time to dwell on them as he should.
the day she drops out of yuuei academy, the day after her mother inko dies, is a heartachingly sun-drenched afternoon.
that hero meets deku, back turned at the gate of the academy. ”your teachers say they didn’t see you at class today...”
she greets him with a crumpled–up stack of paperwork. he peers at her, betrayed, confused at this turn of events.
"what’s this, my girl?"
she’s quiet, but her shoulders are hunched over sadly. upon closer examination, he notices boldly lettered NOTICE OF TRANSFER printed across the top of the page.
at a loss for words, he can say nothing at first. “i’m... i’m very sorry about your mother.” he manages to say softly. “but please, don’t be hasty! your mother would have wanted you to continue on your path to be a hero...”
“...my mother loved me for who i was born as." she shakes her head. "i want...to be me. thank you for the opportunity," she says, with a slight bow of her head. her words sound like a cruel, bitter joke, something out of the mouth of a particularly ironic villain.
"i won't force you to be the vessel, my girl. but you're making a grave mistake...!" he argues. "you've come so far! you have so much raw potential...”
her face screws up into a tight, unhappy grimace, and turning away from him, she walks a few paces in front of him. “i-i don’t want to be a pro hero if people can’t accept me for who i really am!“
he calls out to her. ”that’s a shame!”
she bites down on her lip so hard that he sees that it has drawn blood. her bottom lip trembling, deku says quietly, "why... why is it a shame?” she asks.
indignant anger brings tears to her eyes. "what do i have to be ASHAMED of?”
“it’s a shame that people like you who deserve to be heroes, can’t be, because of their birth!” he shouts. “the world is cruel, and unkind! people will make you ashamed to be different! i thought i had made this clear to you before, my girl! being a hero isn’t an occupation that people without quirks are cut out for!”
he concludes with:
”it may be a sad fact, but a fact it remains! that’s just the way the world is- some people just aren’t born equal.”
"i know... that people aren't born equal. but if people are going to treat me different, because of the way that i was born, then—" she halts in her tracks, scratches her head anxiously. "then m-maybe..."
that young woman clenches her fists, and he notices that the lump in her throat has disappeared. swiveling on her heel, she declares:
"...it's them who needs to change, not me!”
a brief, painful silence fills the air. “is that what you have to say to me...?” he finally says. all might then asks, “where are you going to go?”
"don’t worry about me! i survived when my favorite hero of all time called me a s-second-class citizen," she smiles shakily at him. "i survived, when he told me that i'd never be a hero without a quirk."
"so i know that i can live now."
he licks his dry lips, swallows down his throat that is now dry. "i.. don't understand— this is what you wanted! listen to me, my girl. it's difficult, no, nigh impossible to become a professional hero without a quirk.”
“for the sake of your dreams..." he reaches out to her, his tanned hand is outstretched. “just a little more— your dreams are within your reach!”
with a sharp intake of breath, deku says quietly:
“you know, i wanted to be you. but..."
she shakes her head. "...your dreams aren’t mine anymore.“
it’s quiet for a moment, then he utters four words.
"i just don't understand...!”
...how can you accept yourself as you are, when i found all of my efforts woefully inadequate?
there is a silence that lasts for an infinite eternity of silences. with a choked up sob, that small girl then says:
"...i don't think you ever will."
turning her narrow back to him, she leaves him in that place, the cruel sun beating down on his back. the distance between the two of them widen, until she has made it to the bus stop at the bottom of the hill. he turns away, wills himself to walk towards the academy.
—but he can’t help but to look back at the bus stop, and catches sight of a girl whose thin shoulders shudder with wracking sobs.
the number one hero of all time can’t bear to see her off like that—so he dashes after the bus, as far as his strong legs will take him, but his strength fails him, and she's gone with the marunouchi shuttle bus.
and he, hopelessly, realizes that he never held that young woman's heart in his hands.
this world where all might is the greatest hero, a messiah, the savior to be held up to the praise of all, is rapidly reaching its limits.
the world spins around him; he feels so weak, as if he’ll waste away into nothing.
this put-upon facade of a show finally reaches its end, with the question he knew everyone was waiting to ask. ”do you have any idea for good heroes? anyone who you think could take on the mantle of the greatest pro hero of all time?”
laughing anxiously, all might throws a couple of names from yuuei‘s graduating class out without any particular confidence in their abilities.
“ah, we see! we’ll definitely keep an eye out for them. that’s all that we have time for today, everyone. please thank all might for coming out!” the phony smile of the tv host stretches from ear to ear, almost as if to mock him.
after making his way out of the claustrophobic television studio, he takes a large, greedy breath of fresh air.
he realizes that girl’s convictions were no fool’s gold, no ideals plated in the glossy imitation of what a hero should be, realizes that that extraordinary kind of love was one that couldn’t simply be walked away from on a weekday afternoon.
seagulls call to each other overhead. glancing up to the sky in in this sea side city, a pervasive sense of jealousy threatens to overtake him, a sharp pain makes his chest ache.
how could they fly so free, while he’s so trapped in the cage of ideals he‘s built for himself?
he looks down to see two police officers, a man and a young woman making idle chatter as they buy coffee from a street cart on the side of the road.
he stands at a distance, and watches the woman. her badge glints fiercely off of her breast pocket. that bright eyed policewoman sits and burns her mouth on her cup of coffee, and embarrassed, she turns away from her colleague.
narrowing his eyes, he notices a smattering of a flush across her freckled cheeks, a bright, uncommon happiness in her clear green eyes.
my girl, are you happy?
the seagulls call from overhead.
if you were, then that’s all i could’ve asked for.
she turns and looks at the blonde. and just looks.
he looks back, and realizes—
he had never truly listened to the song that little bird had been singing.