Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

I Island Lecture Hall 34R,

I tapped the link, and my tablet screen blinked as it transitioned from the homepage to Hero Vision. The app logo flashed, a white circle within a silver box against an all-white background, before turning black once more.

It starts with the buffering animation, a small hero-avatar flying tight circles around the play icon wearing a little cape that left a rainbow trail. It made an incomplete cycle before fading away to the start.

The video opens with a shot from above, aboard a news helicopter, with the shaky camera-work of someone scared out of their wits but too curious for their own good… or paid too much to complain.

“Coming to you live, in Hosu city this is Hero News Network’s Junko Takeda with Breaking News. We have this just in…” the reporter lady starts her piece, talking in that rapid fire most news anchor speaks in.

“- a previously unknown villain has just been apprehended following the UA Kidnapping. Police sources speculate the man to be the mastermind behind the Villain Alliance and the massa… wait,” a hand falls to her earpiece, ten seconds of silence follows before suddenly shouting, “-there has been a development… Orlando, zoom in and crank up the audio… I wanna hear everything,” all the while, slapping the camera away from her, pointing it to the scene down below.

“-going to fight, then I will too,” a man says, and through the smoke and dust on-screen, the camera shakily zooms in to focus on him.

The speaker was a mountain of a man, I could tell even on video, standing at somewhere just over eight feet tall… that is four heads above the average household door height or a head short of a lamp-post. He wore and dirtied yet somehow immaculate black suit with a velvet lapel that clung tightly to his heavily muscled form, a blood-red tie paired with a stark-white dress-shirt and black pants.

The sleeves of his suit were torn, and his shoes looked to have been melted of by friction burns.

Covering most his face was a strange and ominous broken black mask, with respiratory pipes at the bottom and a neck-brace to hold it in place. The glass visor was broken, the entire top half missing completely, revealing the face of the man underneath… rather lack thereof.

The man had no facial features what-so-ever to speak of. No eyes where eyes should have been, nor hair, nor nose – just one, ugly burn-scar where most of his feature should have been and an ever-benevolent smile on his lips, the only discernible facial feature he had.

“In the past, that fist of yours crushed one after another of my comrades, and you were extolled as the Symbol of Peace,” said the faceless man as he raised a hand to the sky, then brought it down in a gesturing motion.

For dramatic effect I imagined.

Looking past him for the time, I noticed just how everything behind him was either on fire, catching fire, decimated or was falling apart. It looked like the End of the World.

‘Who is he?’ I wondered to myself, and more importantly, ‘Who is he talking to?’

I made a habit of knowing heroes and villains, chronicling whatever information I could get in my notebooks. Recognizing heroes and villains from something as insignificant as a silhouette was a point of pride for me, so it stung me something fierce that I didn’t recognize this clearly powerful villain.

“The view must have been magnificent, you Hero you,” the villain said, mockingly.

‘He’s talking to a hero then?’ I thought, ‘Which one?’

“What did it feel like, boy?” he shouted, taunting, “As you stood atop the fruits of MY sacrifices. Answer me All Might!”

The camera swerved to the right so fast it was almost jarring. So fast as a matter of fact, it took the camera precious seconds to adjust. As it was, it could only make out the blurry, horned outline of a man shrouded in a cloud of dust, smoke and fire.

The silhouette was a familiar sight. The two horns sticking up in a ‘V’ shape, and th herculean physique were unmistakable.

That was All Might.

The dust cleared and clarity returned. The camera zoomed in on the muscled silhouette to reveal a heavily wounded All Might wearing scraps and tatters of his costume, steaming coming out of his body and…

‘… is he losing muscle mass?’ I noticed. It was a detail so minor I almost dismissed it, thinking that I must have imagined it, but I trusted my eyes. All Might’s costume, like most Power-Type hero costumes, which was designed to be skin tight with very little give to accentuate musculature was loosening.

“I have nothing to say to you All For One,” All Might said. Behind him were various B-rank and C-rank pro-heroes evacuating the civilians.

I recognized some of them.

I caught a glimpse of Raptor-Rex, the lizard hero holding up the collapsed support pillar of an office building while Onihime, the Yokai hero, subdued the rampant fires with her quirk, moving the flames out of the way to allow passage for rescue-workers to slip in.

Endeavour was on the sidelines, face set in grim expression as he watched helplessly from the sidelines. He looked like he wanted to jump in, but held himself back admirably… Late night media will have a circus about his non-involvement later as they often do, but I thought it was a wise decision, there was very little he could have done to help in this fight, even with his hottest flames.

Kamui Woods raised platforms of wood to ferry civilians away from the area, and Barrier Terrier was casting shield of pale yellow that sheltered the heroes from flying debris.

“It all ends tonight…,” All Might declared intently, as he clenched his fists so tightly they made an audible ‘crack’ noise.

I winced at the sound and continue watching, enraptured.

In one breath, the fight started in earnest. I blinked once, I think, and the next thing I saw was the desolate scene of a devastated street, and a blurry streak in place of the hero. One moment All Might had been there in the frame, standing defiantly before the faceless man and in the next he was only a blur of blue and red streaking on a course for the villain.

“[SMASH]” he shouted his signature war cry, and launched a devastating punch at the faceless man, who for his part caught it with ease. A deafening noise resounded from the clash as fist met open palm, followed by a sonic-boom that shattered all windows in sight and knocked back anything still standing with eyeshot of the two.

The force was great enough to push back the camera-man who must have toppled over and the lenses was promptly pelted by debris and blanketed by dust – thankfully it was a professional setup, the protective cover in front of the lens dislodged, showing unmarred footage without a spiderweb crack running down the screen.

The cameraman stood up, quivering all the while and pointed the camera back to the fight.

“[NEW-ENGLAND SMASH]” - not to be deterred by the ease with which he’d been countered, All Might shouted once more as he retaliated with a deadly barrage of punches, alternating between straight-lefts, rights and hooks. Each hit imbued with enough force to form a cone of wind-pressure that shorn chunks of flesh from the faceless man, and fast enough that his hands were literal blurs travelling too fast for a phone camera to pick up.

The barrage of punches sounded almost akin to a minigun, as each one broke the sound barrier.

“[SHOCK-ABSORPTION + ADAMANT SKIN + DAMAGE RESERVOIR + AUTO-PARRY + COUNTER]”

The Villain calmly canted, all the while standing his ground in the face of it all, somehow parrying each one of All-Might’s blows – pushing away every punch he can aside, attempting to counter sometime but mostly just receiving.

For each gouge of flesh All Might tore from his body, a black-gel like substance seeped from the wound to replace the flesh.

For each blow he received, the impact was lessened by a strange rippling effect that seemingly dispersed all the force to the rest of the man’s body and into the earth beneath him, shattering and forming a crater where he stood.

… and for each blow he couldn’t shrug off or slap away, a counter was attempted. The faceless man gave as good as he got, turning the fight into a slugfest.

[REFLECT] the faceless man shouted and rained deathly blows on All Might with equal fervor to match the hero in terms of speed, power and technique.

My breath stilled, and my heart skipped a beat. It was like watching a clash of gods – one, a paragon of virtue and the other, a symbol of evil.

The two exchanged blows. Punching away at each other with fists that shattered the earth beneath them, until finally All Might felled the faceless man with a sweeping kick that send both men tumbling to the ground.

All Might roared and the Faceless man choked back a strangled gasp as they both fell, and the hero went for the coup de grace.

The villain, in a desperate attempt to disengage used his quirk… rather, I was beginning to suspect he had multiple and used a different one to create a massive explosion that sent All Might flying into the sky and crashing into the side of a skyscraper nine city blocks west.

A small figure joined the fight. Black domino mask to cover the eyes, white bodysuit, golden gauntlets and greaves with a billowing golden cape. White hair, mottled skin and a slightly hunched back – the small hero was old…

The domino mask and emblazoned belt around his waist added a bronze-age aesthetic to him, if not for that I almost wouldn’t have recognized him.

Gran Torino.

Without a word, the senior hero shot off like a bullet, steam coming out the soles of his boots, and crashed into the faceless man’s uncovered throat legs first then back to the ground again before shooting off in a different direction towards the rubble which he used as a platform to ricochet back to the faceless man’s uncovered belly as he once again crashed into him knee first.

“… you annoy me little boy…,” The faceless man said as he tried and failed to swat the elderly hero, who continued to pester him with kicks from unsuspecting angles. Stalling for time and harassing.

“… I remember you,” the elderly hero stilled, visibly flinching but unwavering in his assault, “-yes, the little sycophant who chased number eight’s tail… Suga… no, Sora…Sorahiko. Yes, I remember you Sorahiko.”

The old man remained unaffected and continued his assault with increased fervor.

“How devastated you must have been when I felled her,” Gran Torino stopped and stared at the faceless man, his face a rictus of anger and shock, “shall I regale you with her last words shared to me as I snuffed out her embers.”

Gran Torino offered no reply. He crouched low to the ground, palms flat against the earth and back jutting upwards in a runner’s start.

[STORMVOGEL] he hissed and disappeared.

I heard more than I saw cracks of metal boot against enhanced flesh, the whistling of air left in the man’s passing and the faceless man’s grunting as he was assaulted by Gran Torino, who must have been going faster than All Might at his best.

Even in old age, he was still one of the fastest – I watched with awe.

“She had many-,” the faceless man spoke with a conversational tone, ignoring the barrage all the while.

“-regrets do you kn-,” his head whipped back from the force of Gran Torino’s [Mach Speed Dropkick].

“-ow. Her loveless marriage in shamb-,” a foot against his throat again cutting him short, “-les. Her ideals waning… as it would turn out, she was not the parag-,” he stopped midsentence, dropping a hand to his down to intercept an attempted crotch-kick. The only effort he’d put into his fight with the old man, if it could even be called a fight.

“-paragon you thought her to be. Her husband left, took the children with him. He turned out to be an abusive father without the stabilizing presence of Nana.”

Gran Torino disengaged and jumped back a distance away to catch his breath.

“She spoke of you do you know. She was of course delirious at the time, but death’s door has a way to reveal hidden truths.”

“I’ve heard of your silver tongue. I’d be stupid to listen to anything you say, so be quiet and take your beating like a good villain. I don’t want to hear it All for One,” the elderly hero said, defiantly.

“… I’ll say it anyway. She wondered to herself what life might have been like had she chosen you. Isn’t that great little boy – a little growing on your part and you might have had a future together.”

“… wha-,” shocked, the old man exclaimed, although cut short before he could make out the word by a red and black tendril latching around his neck. The camera paned, following the black and red tendril to its source to the faceless man’s fingers which were partially made of flesh and other part whatever exotic material the tendril was made of.

“I dare say – life might have been easier for all involved. She neglected her flame to make time for a thankless job and found comfort in you… a trusted friend and confidante, wishing for more all the while. You’re a good man Sorahiko, and I imagine you the attentive sort… nothing like the push-over chaff she foisted her children to,” the faceless man taunted, twitching his fingers slightly as he tightened the grip he had around Gran Torino’s neck, “You might have been a better husband.”

“Possibilities, Possibilities. What was can’t be changed, so… no point dwelling, no. Not that I would change it if I could mind you… It all worked out for me quite well. Her distant nature is what led to my fateful meeting with Shigaraki Tomura… her grandson and the heir to my empire.”

Through the strangles struggling and choked breathing, Gran Torino somehow managed to convey shock in his expression.

The faceless man seemed to stumble. He paused and coughed into his free hand before spitting blood to the floor.

“hmm – It appears my time is short. Any last words Sorahiko,” he received no answer save for choked expletives and rude gestures, “very well. Pass my greetings to my little brother and Nana in the after life when you get there.”

“Oh Fuck,” the camera man cursed, “oh shit. We have to cut… this is live.”

“No,” the reporter refuted, “keep shooting… no matter what happens, keep shooting.”

[AU REVOIR]

The red and black tendril pulsed and squirmed as it squeezed harder against the old man’s neck, finally, with a jerky motion the man stopped moving and fell to the ground as the tendril retracted back to the faceless man’s fingers.

“… a man just…,” breathless, the cameraman whispered.

“Keep quiet, Keep shooting.”

“…”

‘D-did he just kill him?’ I thought. I contemplated rewinding a few seconds back to be sure, but decided against it when something landed into the frame with a thunderous crash.

All Might was back.

He looked down beneath, to his feet where Gran Torino laid prone.

“S-sensei,” his voice was low, but high enough to be heard through camera. He fell to a knee beside the elderly man, a finger pressed against the neck all the while.

“Sensei… oi sensei, wake up.”

“They’ll be none of that, I made sure of it. His C2 vertebrae has been fractured – a textbook perfect hangman’s fracture If I do say so myself, and the C3 has been completely dislocated from the entire column, severing the spinal cord as a result,” the faceless man supplied unapologetically, “If it’s any consolation, death was instant. He felt no pain in his passing.”

“…”

All Might stood up, his form spewing out smoke as he gradually, and quite visibly lost muscle with each second that passed. His arm on the other hand, figuratively, seemed to suck in all the lost mass from the rest of his body and grew larger and larger until it was as wide as his now thin torso.

He looked almost… desiccated in a way, skeletal eve with gaunt cheeks, sunken eyes, vibrant blue eyes, prominent teeth sticking out and a shock of graying blonde hair.

“No more… No more All for One,” All Might declared as he cocked his grotesque arm back in a windup. “By my hand, I swear….this ends now - your empire, your legacy.”

“Oh… no longer holding back are we. How reckless…,” the faceless man mirthlessly chuckled, “… in which case, allow me to reciprocate.”

The faceless man lifted his right arm and pointed it to the sky. The arm bulged and gained mass, growing to an equally grotesque size as All Might.

Wisps of red lightning danced and arced down the length of his arm as barbed metal bits poked out from underneath, bursting through flesh with spurts of black blood.

His nails turned to a black slurry sludge that hardened and became like chitin, his skin blackened and took a shimmering metallic shine, and the bones underneath snapped and jutted out in placements along his arms like vents.

Lines of black and gold formed along the surface of his now metallic skin, like circuitry as the faceless man cocked his hand back to mirror the back-standing feet away from him.

[UNITED STATES OF SMASH]

[ALL FOR ONE]

The news chopper maneuvered to a better vantage point, somewhere much lower and slowed to a hover above a single story building as it neared the scene for a better shot.

Too fast for the camera to catch, villain and hero clashed. Wind picked up and the force of their blows threw rubble every which way.

Like samurai of old the two stood before each other. Grotesque, oversized hands outstretched.

The fight was over. I knew and understood this, but I didn’t rejoice – the outcome had yet to be determined, so I watched with bated breath, and offered a silent prayer.

‘I have a bad feeling about this,’ I resisted the urge to close down the video.

The first to fall was the villain. The faceless man punch had been off mark when he struck All Might and had completely missed, either that or the hero had evaded and countered.

“N-not a… pun-punch b-but a s-spear hand thrust. H-ow u-n-heroic. Y-yo-u a-ren’t quite th-the blu-unt tool I t-thought you…,” the villain gurgled the words out and coughed a wad of blood, the racking fit sounding more like laughter as he hacked and wheezed. He fell into a fit of raspy coughing, convulsing with each one before finally letting out one final one and fell silent, limp against All Might’s shoulder.

The hero pushed the faceless man’s prone form off him, who slipped off his arm wetly as the hero’s arm was pulled back from his chest where it had quite literally perforated through.

The camera moved away from the villain, so to not show the sight of the hole in his chest and focused on All Might who looked up and stared straight into the camera and raised his bloodied hand to the sky, pointing.

He was covered in blood from head to toe, his form even more desiccated than it was before with a massive gaping wound in his chest… a pre-existing wound that had burst open during the melee, exposing his lower ribs on the left side and letting a veritable fountain of blood leak.

I could not, at the top of my head, think of any quirk that could heal that. He was already dead, his body have long since fallen apart. His mind just hadn’t caught up yet.

“You’re… next,” he announced, the words a whisper on his lips before he fell to his knees.

The camera paned back to the news chopper, where a disheveled reporter stood, rested against the door, mic in hand and a shocked expression on her face.

“… my god. All Might… All Might is…”

The lecture room lights flashed on as the projector was turned off. Some words were spoken, a joke by the professor followed by some courtesy laughter from the front-seaters.

I paid all of it no mind.

“…Izumi-san…”

The screen turned blurry, and my shoulders shook.

“…Izumi-san…”

Fat tears rolled down my cheeks and a heavy lump formed in my throat. I choked back a sob and… I had to get out of here.

I needed air, and time to process this. Oh god, Melissa… I had to make sure she didn’t see this.

“…Izumi-san,” the professor, a short balding man in flannel called out my name. Had been for a while now I realized.

He was giving me that look he gives his students when he catches them distracted in lectures, a mix of disappointment and sadness.

“Care to share with the rest of the class what you were watching that you found more interesting than Lindhart’s study on Exotic Energies,” he said, hand resting by his hip.

“…”

“Well, we’re waiting.”

“All Might…,” I started, the lump in my throat grew heavier as I tried to articulate my thoughts.

“…well.”

“He… he’s dead.”