Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In later years, when Izuku would look back at the moment the sky split in two, he would acknowledge he really had no other choice. Not in that moment. Not if he wanted to save lives. 

If he had the time again—if he could have played it over in real-time or plan it out beforehand—there were no less than a dozen other options that would have saved the day. 

But the moment the lightning rose from the ground into the thick clouds, stirring slowly and crackling with electricity, Izuku didn’t think. 

He moved. 

A hunk of concrete spiralled through the air, swiping dangerously close to the side of his head. Izuku jumped out of the way, another piece of debris shattering the ground where he’d been moments ago. 

To Izuku’s right, a wall of ice stopped a splintered tree in mid-air. “Go ahead,” yelled Todoroki, knocking a hunk of metal away with a stream of flame. “I’ve got this here—I’ll follow when I can.”

Izuku nodded curtly and took off. Todoroki’s ice would hold the debris back and keep the people evacuating the building safe. 

Izuku had been doing the hero thing for a few years now; he played the game and smiled for the photos and, in his third year of being a pro-hero, he’d found that he’d snagged a spot in the top ten. Next year, he had his fingers crossed he’d crack the top three. 

But as much time that had passed, he was still that same impulsive, reckless fourteen-year-old. His legs moved before he could think. Whatever destructive storm was brewing in the centre of Kijimi Ward couldn’t hold him back. There were people in those buildings, children in the park, commuters on the train. If Izuku held back, if he hesitated, what hope would they have? 

One for All buzzed under his skin. Air whipped through his hair as he ran forward, inhumanly fast. The brewing storm was tearing up buildings—Izuku used the chunks of concrete tumbling through the air as lunch pads, pushing himself toward the eye of the chaos. There were other heroes on the perimeter who were helping evacuate the area. At the moment, Izuku was the only one who could cut through everything to find out what was happening. 

Come on . He urged more power into his muscles. He jumped further and, when he landed, his knees absorbed the shock with groans of protests. After all this time, he could use One for All at 100% of its power without destroying his body. 

The catch was that he couldn’t do it for long. 

And now wasn’t the time to play around with his limitations. 

Izuku leapt forward again. Around him, the world blurred away. He gritted his teeth as his blood pounded through his head. 

None of it made sense. There’d been no warning, no declaration. As far as he knew, no one villain had even claimed the attack yet. 

The thought that it could be the league of villains back again after all of these years made Izuku’s gut knot itself up. 

He pushed that thought aside; he couldn’t afford to worry about that now. Izuku landed on a clear spot of concrete and raised his hand to shield his face. The sheer strength of the wind stung his eyes. Even standing still required concentration; the heavy force knocked against his chest and sent his heels sliding back on the pavement. 

The dark clouds knitted themselves together so thickly he couldn’t see more than five meters in front of him. It was as if he’d stepped outside not only in the dead of night, but also in the middle of a power outage. This is the eye.

At least, Izuku hoped it was. If it wasn’t, he didn’t know what he was in for. 

Izuku crouched down. He found his footing; he raised his head against the gale and let the forced knock against his body with everything he had. 

Izuku did not move. 

With a smile, he rocked his weight back onto his heels and launched himself into the air. The tips of his fingers tingled; around him the world drew into hyperfocus. Despite the darkness, he could make out the chunks of rubble that turned with the storm clouds. Bent metal car frames tumbled past.  Specks of concrete hammered against his arms. 

Come on. Izuku readied himself for whatever it was in the centre of the destruction. He fought to keep his eyes open and his path steady. What kind of quirk caused something like this? 

Izuku narrowed his gaze. A stray chunk of debris caught his side—a stinging pain blossomed up through his rib cage. Almost. There. 

Darkness knitted itself together. 

Izuku couldn’t see his own hands. 

The flurry made it hard to breathe; there was no air to suck in. 

Would this swallow him up?

Before Izuku’s thoughts could slip into the endless rumination of exactly what might lay at the centre of the storm, the world opened up in front of him. 

The darkness parted to a blue sky. 

No longer fighting the force of the wind, Izuku tumbled forward and landed less than gracefully. He rolled as he landed, his ankle protesting the movement and his shoulder catching the ground as he lifted his head to protect his skull. Thick as it was, he hardly needed a concussion. 

Izuku blinked at the sky. Maybe he already had a concussion. There wasn’t so much as a trace of the storm from moments before; a stray cloud floated lazily above his head. Warm sun fell on his face. That heat certainly hadn’t been there before. 

As he shifted to sit up, his body rioted. Was he really so beat up? All things considered, he’d been through so much worse. Somehow, though, he felt as if he’d been hit by a truck. 

Or spat out of a tornado , he mused. Izuku pressed his palm against the pain shooting up from the wound on his side. The rubble that hit him might’ve been small, but it moved fast enough to leave its mark. Likely, he’d broken a rib. Maybe two. His breath hitched as he pushed himself to his feet. 

Izuku blinked. The fog of the sudden change peeled away from his mind. 

He stood in a giant crater. 

A city block, at least. Maybe more. Hunks of cement shored up; stray metal supports arrowed out of the debris. More than that, he was lower than he should have been. Pipes, bent like straws, were nested in the chaos. The city skyline in the distance shot up higher than it should have. 

What had happened? Could whatever quirk the person making the storm had really push down the earth? From pictures that Izuku had seen, the damage around him looked similar to that of an asteroid impact. What kind of power would that take?

And, more importantly, who had caused the damage? Izuku tapped his chin as he thought. Whoever it was should be close. Unless it was a long-range quirk, that was. But long-range quirks were rare (though not impossible) and the damage done seemed much more suited for close range. How could anyone direct that much power from far away?

Izuku shook his head. He was muttering, again, and the last thing he needed was to have some villain get the drop on him because he couldn’t pull his head out of the clouds. 

“Todoroki?” he called. He said he’d be right behind him, but as Izuku looked around, he couldn’t see any trace of him. 

For that matter, he couldn’t see any other heroes. Or sidekicks. Or cops. Or paramedics.

By now, someone should’ve been coming in to help. Right? Izuku might’ve made a name for himself as a hero, but he was clearly injured.

“Anyone?” He looked around the edge of the crater. Still, no one was there. What the hell? Maybe he’d hit his head harder than he thought. 

With a sigh, he resigned himself to walking himself out of this mess. With his ankle still aching from when he first landed in the crater, Izuku was fairly certain another jump would seriously put his bones through the wringer. Recovery Girl retired last year—he didn’t want her worrying when she should be drinking tea and reading books. 

Not to mention All Might. He still fretted every time that Izuku had so much as a splinter. 

In the distance, a wail of a siren cut through the air. Good, Izuku thought. Backup was finally there. 

Izuku relaxed—he let the tension fade from his shoulders and lowered his guard ever so slightly. Why was he so exhausted? He hadn’t even ended up fighting anyone, only doing some basic search and rescue. That was hardly much more than a normal shift. 

But as soon as Izuku started to let himself be at ease, the alarm bells in his head exploded. 

“Woah,” Izuku dogged to his left on instinct alone. Where he’d been a split second before, a massive fist came down into the concrete. Although the ground was already turned up, it crumbled further—chunks of the cement rose into the air from the impact. 

Izuku clutched at his side. The pain knocked out his breath; he’d definitely broken a rib or two. 

A massive hand came at Izuku again before he had the chance to recover or even clearly see who was attacking him. 

With a grunt of effort, he lept back and out of the way. The striking force of his landing sent a wave of pain up from his ankle, one that radiated through his leg and deep into his core. “Hey, hey!” he called from the ground, his head lowered. He scrunched up his face in concentration and pushed down the wave of nausea. 

“Stand down,” came a booming voice. 

A voice that Izuku knew well. 

Slowly, he raised his head. No. It couldn’t be. 

In front of him stood All Might, in all his power and glory.

Chapter Text

“All Might?” Izuku’s voice was a whisper. Around him, the wind whispered back. In front of him stood All Might, in all his former glory—his shoulders were broad, his muscles looming, his smile wide and eyes shadowed. How long had it been since Izuku saw him in this form? The last time he could think of, it lasted for a few scarce seconds at that. 

But here, undoubtedly, was All Might. Costume and all. 

“Stand down,” he repeated. His hands stayed on his hips; his imposing figure nearly blocked out the sun, even though Izuku was nearly as tall and broad as All Might was now. All Might would never stop being larger-than-life in so many ways. 

“What’s going on?” Izuku’s voice cracked in a way that it hadn’t for a long time. His heart slammed against his ribs and threatened to crawl up his throat—One for All buzzed under his skin as if it were ready to jump out of his body and start to act on its own. Izuku held the power back. That didn’t stop every nerve in his body from screaming: something is wrong wrong wrong. 

All Might stepped forward and bridged the space between the two of them. Under his feet, rubble bounced. “What’s going on? I was hoping you would tell me.”

His voice—the same voice that Izuku had so often heard affectionately calling him my boy —held no warmth. In his dark eyes, there wasn’t even a flicker of soft recognition. 

Izuku took a step back and raised his arms. “Toshinori?” he tried. 

Which, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. 

Another swift blow came crashing toward him. Izuku stood there, too stunned and unprepared to even think about moving out of the way, let alone to jump. 

All Might’s fist met his jaw in an explosion of pain. The world blurred around Izuku; before he could catch his breath, his body slammed into a pile of rubble and a glancing pain sparked up his back. 

Izuku shifted and rolled. His impact had reduced the shattered concrete to dust even further. A bent metal support beam angled out of the ground next to him; he clutched at it and tried to find his balance once again. 

Izuku coughed and the sound that came out was wet and ragged. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a blow at full force unprepared like that—if he even ever had. Even at his lowest points, he would raise his arms in defence or punch back or roll to the side. 

What was going on? Nothing, nothing, nothing was adding up. Not only had his whole world shifted from where he’d been only a few moments ago, not only was Todoroki not coming to his side like he’d promised he would, but something was deeply wrong with All Might. 

Izuku pushed himself to his feet, clutching the splintered ribs in his side and wobbling on his rolled ankle. The coopery of his blood flooded his mouth and he wiped it away as best as he could on the dusty sleeve of his uniform. The suit was torn and dirt-black. 

The world shook. 

To Izuku’s left, All Might stood in a crater of his own making. How many times had Izuku watched him on TV as a kid and admired the sheer power it took to indent the earth with a landing? As a kid, there had been nothing but wild admiration in that sight. 

Now, Izuku was certain he’d be sick. Both the pain and fear clashed in his gut in an unhappy marriage. 

“Wait,” he sputtered, raising his hands in front of him. He needed to think. He needed to figure it out. 

As it stood, there was no way this was the All Might—the Toshinori—that Izuku knew. Which meant one of a few things: either someone was impersonating him or All Might was being controlled. 

But that last option didn’t make much sense when Izuku thought further. Even if someone had managed to wrestle All Might under a Shinsou-type mind control, there was no way his body would be able to maintain that form or fight in the way that he was. It also wouldn’t explain Izuku’s sudden change of scenery. 

“Surrender, villain,” All Might boomed. Distantly, something hummed and when Izuku looked up to the blindly blue sky, a helicopter appeared from behind an office tower, circling low and toward the damage they were currently standing in. 

“Villain? All Might, it’s me. It’s me!” He sounded desperate in a way that might’ve been embarrassing if Izuku wasn’t so damn scared for his mentor. 

Izuku would be fine. He would push through. As for All Might? He was getting older. He’d been injured, he’d been hurt, he’d been broken, and he’d built himself up again in spite of it all. 

How much more could he take?

“Let’s talk this through,” Izuku pleaded again. He needed time. Time to calm All Might down. Time to give to Todoroki to appear at his side and smooth everything over. Time to make a plan and move ahead. 

All Might chuckled darkly. 

“You want to talk now? After you’ve done all this?” All Might gestured wildly to the destruction surrounding them. 

“What? No—no. That wasn’t me. I didn’t do this. I just appeared here! I don’t know what’s going on either, but I’m sure we can figure this out. You know I wouldn’t do any of this.”

All Might cocked his head. “Usually villains are all too quick to claim their actions.”

Yes, yes see through this . 

“But I don’t even know who you are.” All Might stepped forward again and Izuku stood there, open, without reacting. 

Izuku took as deep a breath as he could manage. His ribs protested the movement. If this continued, All Might was likely to hurt himself. Izuku needed to deescalate the situation with words, not with fighting. “Then we can work this out,” he said. “I didn’t do this. I just ended up here.”

A metal pipe folded like paper under All Might’s foot. “The police are on their way, along with other heroes. Come peacefully and I won’t fight you anymore.” 

Izuku’s breath picked up again against his will as another wave of panic washed over him. This was wrong, still. All wrong. 

What had happened? Where did he land? Logically, he pushed through. The changing colour of the sky. The different scenery around him. The All Might who didn’t recognize him, the All Might who was still in his prime. 

It wasn’t that everything else had changed. 

Izuku, in all likelihood, was the one out of place. His stomach dropped with the simple realization—and, as Iida liked to say, the simplest explanation usually tended to be right. 

“I’m not your enemy,” Izuku promised. “I’m a hero—I swear. I don’t know how I got here.”

“You don’t.” The disbelief in All Might’s voice would’ve been apparent to anyone, let alone Izuku. 

“It wasn’t me.”

“There’s no one else around.”

Izuku pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. One for All was flaring up again, bubbling under his skin, desperate to get him out of the situation. But Izuku couldn’t leave. Not yet. He had to figure out whatever the hell was going on. 

“I’ll come with you,” Izuku said. “I promise. I’ll do what you say.” The background buzz of the helicopter grew louder and when Izuku looked up, there were now two overhead—one, it seemed, with a news camera and the other belonging to the police. They circled like vultures over the scene. 

All Might reached forward and wrapped a hand around Izuku’s bicep. It wasn’t like when he was a kid and All Might dwarfed him, but All Might did still have a strong, controlled grip. There would be a bruise there, later. “Then let’s go.”

Izuku nodded dully. When they reached wherever they were going to, he’d half to re-evaluate his plan. Once there were others around, he could gauge better if there was something going on with All Might or not. If things did not, in fact, look good, then Izuku would have to make a run for it, but he doubted that would be too difficult. If no one knew him, then no one would know what he was capable of. 

All Might’s grip tightened. “Come on,” he said and jerked Izuku forward. “I don’t have time for this.” 

Izuku’s arm jerked forward and the rest of his body followed the sudden movement, careening toward the debris and junk littering the ground. 

Before his face met a half-destroyed cinderblock, Izuku caught himself mid-air. For a moment, he stayed there, floating. A jagged shard of cement jutted up, dangerously close to his eye. 

Still using Float, Izuku shifted his weight back again until he was upright and lowered himself down, gentle, careful of his busted ankle. 

The grip around his arm slipped away. 

“Sorry,” Izuku mumbled.

All Might didn’t reply. 

“All Might?” Izuku turned. 

Before this, the image of All Might’s face dressed in pure, unadorned anger had nearly faded from Izuku’s mind. His mentor so rarely wore it that Izuku was half-certain he’d only imagined the bright features darkening, the smile slipping away. 

  “Who. Are. You.” All Might’s voice bubbled with rage. His brows knitted together. There was no smile, not even a trace, on his face. 

Izuku knew, deep in his core, he had fucked up. “No—no wait—”

“You’re him, aren’t you?” 

“No, I swear, it’s not what it seems—”

“It’s a joke to you, isn’t it? Using her power in front of me?”

Izuku didn’t have time to respond before a fist flew through the air toward his face once more. This time, at least, he reacted. Or at least his body did, even if his mind was still playing catch up. 

Izuku jumped back, out of the way. He threw up his hands, he rolled, he dodged. All Might’s fists kept coming, again and again. The ground shook. Cement splinted.

“STOP!” Izuku screamed; the noise tore through his lungs. 

All Might did not stop. “How dare you.” He kept coming, relentless, even if Izuku was too swift for a blow to land. 

“How dare you,” All Might repeated, his deep voice rippling through the angled rubble and metal, “how dare you use her power in front of me!”

“It’s not what you think!” Izuku jumped again and dodged a Texas Smash with a scarce few inches to spare. He landed not far away, but his ankle buckled underneath him once more. The pain was white and blinding. 

All Might didn’t say anything—he let out something between a shout and a battle cry as he leaned back and then sprang forward, both fists in the air, smattering down toward Izuku. 

Izuku couldn’t move; the pain and confusion held him in a vice. Without thinking, he called Blackwhip up from the edges of his mind. The black tendrils caught All Might mid-air and held him there, pulsing with energy.

All Might thrashed in the bonds, but Izuku held him tight. “Just—just stop,” he sputtered out. 

The buzz of helicopters overhead became an ocean of noise. Izuku glanced up. There must be half a dozen, now, still tittering around the edges of the ruined block. Sirens pitched in the background, too. Red and blue lights pulsed not far in the distance. 

Izuku blinked. There was something familiar about this place. Something that scratched a part of his memory, deep and secure, that he’d rather not touch. 

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Izuku promised. 

All Might still pushed against the liquid mass of Blackwhip. “I’m not playing your games, All for One.”

“That’s not me!” It didn’t matter what he said, though. Izuku’s words were lost in a roar of noise as All Might pushed himself free and landed in the destruction with a deafening thud. 

All Might was back on him before Izuku could act. “You know my name,” All Might spat. “You used my mentor’s power in front of me.” 

His fist came down once more. Izuku didn’t have the heart to stop it. The force, like a train, caught the dead centre of his chest and sent him flying back. Izuku hit the ground like a rag doll and rolled into a broken water pipe that was still spitting wildly. Water poured over his head. His hair was plastered against his cheeks. The dust streaking his face must be thick and muddy, he thought, even if he couldn’t see it.

“Is this a joke to you?” All Might’s hulking form pushed through a cloud of mist and dust. He grabbed Izuku again, lifting him by the collar of his shirt into the air. 

Izuku’s feet searched for the ground. He raised his arms and grasped at All Might’s fingers as he tried to pry them loose without hurting his mentor. “No! You don’t understand! I’m not him!”

“You’ve taken a new face. Who did you take that power from?”

Izuku’s head began to swim. He couldn’t stay here, not forever. Sorry. With One for All crackling in his muscles as low as he could while still making an impact, Izuku swung his good foot forward and sunk his heel into All Might’s stomach. 

Instantly, the hand on his collar let go. Izuku dropped into the dust. All Might doubled over and let out a familiar cough; blood splattered out of his mouth and into the rubble. 

When he straightened up again, there was still red on his lips. 

“I promise, I’m not him.” 

“Why did you do this, then? Why did you destroy a whole ward?” 

The noise, the cacophony of sirens and helicopters and shouts, it was all too much. Izuku thought his head might blow right off. “I DIDN’T!” Izuku crouched down, ready to explode into action in a fraction of a second. 

There were people gathering at the edges of the destruction. Dozens of them. All with cameras and phones and eyes. A child pointed toward All Might. A woman pulled her back. 

“Then who did?” All Might’s voice seeped in a poison that Izuku had never heard before. “Who destroyed Kamino Ward?”

“Kamino?” The word could hardly form on Izuku’s tongue. It couldn’t be—this had to be a nightmare. “No.”

But it was Kamino. Those buildings in the background. The hills in the distance. Who could forget?

And the cameras. The people. Every eye in all of Japan was on them, every person watching. 

No. Izuku’s breath caught in his lungs. This couldn’t be happening. What sick joke was time playing?

All Might broke into a sprint like a bullet train with Izuku as his final destination. 

What would happen if Izuku jumped? He had all of All Might’s power, plus the strength of all the previous users bubbling under his skin. If he didn’t pull his punches, Izuku had no doubt that he’d win in a heartbeat. 

But what would happen if Japan watched the number one hero get defeated on live TV? Trust in heroes remained shaky, at best, even when All Might had one. For him to lose? It was unimaginable. 

Izuku closed his eyes. He planted his feet. 

He braced himself for the force of the impact. 

His muscles were coiled, his arms were up, his jaw was clenched, and the force still came in all its blinding light. The blow of All Might’s fist knocked all the air out of Izuku’s lungs. Something in his core spasmed; he could hardly manage to suck a breath back in. 

Izuku’s world went white. A heavy fog rolled over; he couldn’t find his sense. Something warm bloomed at his temple. Had he hit his head? 

Izuku blinked. The sun was so bright he had to squint to block it out. Something was happening—the noise around him crescendoed. 

All Might’s figure loomed over him. His teeth were gritted. Sweat dripped down his brow. His hand lingered by his side where Izuku knew his injury sat, out of sight from the rest of the world. To his credit, if Izuku didn’t know it was there, he never would’ve guessed. Everything All Might did, from the way he held himself to the way he fought, hid the fact his side was decimated. If it was showing, now, even slightly...

Toshinori . Izuku grimaced at the thought of All Might being in crippling pain. But it was different, this time. All Might was stronger than Izuku expected. His muscle form didn’t seem as limited. 

But Izuku couldn’t afford to linger on that right now. Weakly, he raised his arms, palms out. “I surrender,” he said. “I’ll come with you.” 

His eye must’ve been swelling shut; the field of vision in his left eye narrowed. For now, he had no choice but to let All Might win. Everything else they could figure out later. Izuku didn’t even know the first things about what was happening and, around him, the world grew distant. 

His consciousness was flickering in and out of lucidity. 

People—heroes and paramedics and police—came rushing in from the edge of the destruction. Darkness. A hand on his arms, forcing them behind his back. Darkness. Ringing in his ears. Heavy metal clamping his hands in place and running up to his elbows. A thick metal collar pressing against the bruises on his neck. 

And, in spite of everything, cheers. Deafening cheers. From all around. All Might stood tall in the ruin. In moments like this, he hardly looked human. He was a myth, a legend, come to life. He was larger than the rest of them. Moments like this cemented his status as the symbol of hope—the title was not unearned. 

All Might raised his arm into the air. The crowd yelled, louder this time, and someone hauled Izuku to his feet. When he reached for the familiar warmth of One for All, nothing reached back. That alone was enough to send another wave of panic up in Izuku’s chest but this time, he couldn’t act. He couldn’t do anything about it. He could only stand there and let the police and heroes manhandle him—like he was some type of villain. 

And, to them, he was. The crowds were cheering for Izuku’s defeat. 

The panic and dread were enough to stave off the edges of darkness in Izuku’s mind. 

“Come on,” said a hero—a sidekick?—that Izuku didn’t recognize and pulled him forward. 

Izuku stepped down and nausea rolled in his gut. “My ankle—”

“They’ll fix it up when you get there.”

“Okay.” Izuku shuffled forward, head down. His cheeks burned red. Everyone, everyone, was staring at him. Yelling at him. As they moved away from the rubble and toward a relatively untouched swatch of road, the cameras appeared. White novas of light blinded his face. 

“You have any comments!”

“Who are you! What’s your name, villain?”
“Are you associated with the league—”

“Do you have any remorse?”

Izuku only dipped his chin lower. His hair was still wet, his face covered in dirt and dust and mud. He burned. 

“Please, out of the way,” said the hero and the crowd parted, even if the noise and light didn’t. “Our agency will have an official statement prepared shortly.” 

That only seemed to ignite them further—a wild roar and frenzy clattered behind them. Izuku didn’t dare look back. 

Finally, with the hero, he reached a van. An armoured van. The type they used to hold high-risk villains which, in their minds, Izuku was.
“Get in.” 

A rough hand shoved Izuku forward, toward the back. An officer in a nondescript uniform opened the back door. 

Inside the van sat a metal chair. Thick straps dangled from the edges. Izuku had seen this once before. 

This was the same type of system they used to restrain All for One.

“No—no wait,” he started to say. 

No one around him cared for what he had to say. They simply moved him forward, toward the restraints. Whatever they’d already done to him, Izuku couldn’t grasp for his quirk. 

Even if he could, he still couldn’t, not really. Escaping now would still mean a defeat for All Might. Japan still had their eyes on him. 

Izuku grimaced as he accepted his fate. “Where are you taking me?”

The hero raised an eyebrow. “Where do you think?”

Izuku’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Have fun in Tartarus,” he said. “They’ve got a special place for you there.”