Chapter Text
“Now… It’s your turn.”
All Might turned away from the camera, soaked in his own blood, with a finger outstretched. The crowds rejoiced, tears of relief flooding down people’s faces as the Number One Hero took his final stand. Criminals cowered back into the night, fearing his wrath falling upon them. The tension building and breaking and forming again was palpable; everyone could feel those words sinking into their skin and filling their bones with conviction.
In a crowd of thousands, the next One For All holder, Izuku Midoriya, stood as those four little words sank into his brain.
Now, it was his turn.
Oh God. Oh my God.
Panic filled his lungs as he struggled to breathe. He was frozen, paralyzed, staring at the screen. He couldn’t move . All he could do was react as thousands of thoughts tumbled into his head and screamed at him.
He was a kid! He was barely 15 years old. He had just started high school. He had his mom. He had his family. He had a silly little crush and a friendship to repair and people around him who for once cared about him. He had his whole life ahead of him and for the first time, the weight of the Symbol of Peace fell on his shoulders and he was terrified about his own mortality. Seeing All Might, weak and frail and bleeding, made his body grow cold as he thought about what he would look like one day, grey and unmoving.
He thought back to that time on the roof, All Might’s form smoking and steaming around him. He remembered how frail he looked. Deflated is what he called him. Izuku wanted to throw up when he saw the divot on his side. The white scars were like spiderwebs mixing with the red and purple cauterized tissue that was holding the rest of All Might together. Suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach, one that All Might no longer had. Instinctively, he wanted to reach out and hug his side to make sure it was still there, but all he could imagine was a gaping hole and blood pouring over his hands.
When All Might had told him he could be a hero, Izuku was flooded with so much hope it overwhelmed him. He remembered falling to the ground, tears pouring down his face, grasping at his shirt because the feeling physically hurt to contain. He was no longer the useless, Quirkless kid everyone thought he was. He was going to be someone who saved people. He was going to be someone who could save himself.
Now? The decision to take on One for All seemed like a naive, impulsive, and utterly stupid choice. Izuku couldn’t handle the weight of the legacy, the pressure of the world, his own untimely and inevitable demise. Sure, he had never felt apprehension to his own pain. In fact, all those years of bullying probably built up a terrifying tolerance to it, something that scared even his teachers who had seen people die in front of them. But this was different. Pain was temporary. People’s lives were not.
Izuku was too empathetic, throwing himself at every little conflict with his goddamn savior complex. Like he needed one more life on his long list to prove to himself that he’s not worthless. Like he needed the hope like a drug. Like his life depended on it. Because maybe he could have been a little faster, little stronger, little smarter, little more useful he could finally prove to himself that he was a hero. A true hero.
Stain was wrong.
He wasn’t a true hero.
He was selfless because he selfishly wanted to prove himself to none other than the own voice in his head.
But his life was not temporary. Izuku wasn’t going to just accept his fate lying down. He was going to fight, every single day of the rest of his life to live. He didn’t care how bruised and battered and broken he would get. He wasn’t going to let go of that hope that he clung to, his fists turning white and his fingernails digging into his skin. He would stare into the faceless divots of All For One and the glowering red eyes of Shigaraki and scream it for all he cared.
He was going to live.
He was going to save people.
He was the next Symbol of Peace, damnit!
That title hit him in the gut. He wanted to gasp for air, but he was still frozen, locked in his own mind. The Symbol of Peace. Could he even live up to All Might? Could he do that? He was still so young and so tiny and so frail. How could he be the deterrent for every criminal alive? How could he save others with a smile on his face when he was absolutely terrified? How could he be the one force in the universe that keeps the evil at bay?
He couldn’t.
Izuku was just a kid, on the precipice of something great. His legs were shaking and his bones were all cracked and he was breaking himself to be something. It had only been a couple months and he was already having chronic pain in his knuckles. Just hours ago, he had been told that his arms were basically done if he even tried to use them again. Again, his own mortality hit him.
How was he supposed to make it through three years of this? How was he supposed to make it through life like this?
He had more scars on his arms than ever, even overlapping with the scars from being pushed around and beaten and burned. There were so many new ones, so fresh that they still looked pink. And he had gained them so quickly. Sure, he was getting better at controlling One For All, but could he really do it forever? He barely survived the encounter with Muscular and he had just accepted his end.
God, he accepted it.
Bile rose to Izuku’s throat. He was so close to death. He was always so close to death that it was breathing down his neck. Its grip was beckoning him to follow, like an old friend he would be ever chasing. Was Death chasing him or was he chasing Death?
Heroes seemed to be untouchable. The villains would knock them around, but the heroes would always win. Hell, All Might definitely always won and he did it with a smile on his face. But now? All For One has taken down the Number One with a haunting message for all.
No one is invincible. Not even your beloved Symbol of Peace.
Izuku was a kid, thrust into this world powerless, given nothing but hope to survive off of. Now, his power would crush him. He didn’t know if he was referring to One For All or hope at this point. Either way, they would leave his body broken and cold.
So, he cried.
He cried for All Might, who was bleeding and a broken, broken man.
He cried for his mom, who was his only solace. Who worried about him. Who cared so deeply and emotionally for him.
He cried for his friends, the ones he would throw himself into battle over and over again without second thought.
He cried for the beating of his heart, the flushing of his cheeks, the butterflies in his stomach that made him feel alive. He cried for the girl they were for.
He cried for One For All, burning in his chest with a spark of electricity, threatening to take him down with it.
He cried for Izuku Midoriya, the naive, impulsive, stupid, empathetic, emotional, hopeful little boy that would soon be lost to the world full of fire and brimstone.