Chapter Text
All Might laughed down at his young successor who was jumping up and down, just like the rabbit his hero costume made him out to be. “Calm yourself, Midoriya-shounen. It’s not such a big affair.”
Izuku was vibrating in excitement, eyes wide and bright as lamps. “Have I said thank you yet, because thank you, thank you, thank you! This is so amazing! All Might, look at it! It’s so much bigger than I imagined! Not that you don’t need it, or deserve it, you do! It’s nowhere near big enough to show off all of your amazing rescues! It would take a skyscraper to—”
“Easy there, my boy,” All Might chuckled. “I’ve been thanked enough. It is a pleasure to enjoy a trip to the museum with you.”
Understatement of the year, in Izuku’s humble opinion. This wasn’t just a trip to a museum, it wasn’t even a trip! This was the grand opening of the All Might Heroics Memorial Museum, a three-story futuristic building dedicated to hero history and with its main floor dedicated to none other than his favourite hero, All Might. The shiny silver exterior shone as a beacon to everyone that what was inside was priceless, and All Might’s statue was proudly in the center of the two-sided entrance, a testament to the good the museum was dedicated towards. It was like Izuku’s perfect, hero nerd haven.
All Might had invited him—HIM!—to be there! Standing right next to the man of the hour during its ribbon cutting. Izuku was liable to pass out from sheer exhilaration.
The museum’s management welcomed them with wide arms and led them inside well ahead of time to get the advance, exclusive tour of the exhibits. The crowds would start gathering outside soon, but for now Izuku geeked out over the exhibit while the manager took them through the chronology of All Might’s career, costumes, enemies, sidekicks, etc. All Might watched his successor mumble and screech his way from exhibit to exhibit with mirth, feeling all too sure that he would never have enjoyed this trip on his own without the young boy there to stand with him.
The manager wasn’t the only one with them. The curator, an older lady with a soft step and a no-nonsense attitude was with them. She followed with a tablet to record All Might’s words from exhibit to exhibit, occasionally adding one of his exclamations or clarifications as direct All Might quotes on their digital display plaques. It made Izuku ridiculously proud to see All Might still making history in his small form—in his heart, he always believed that the heroic tale of All Might would never die and would live on as a legend, no matter his retirement, and Izuku was watching the legend being written and preserved for posterity right here. You couldn’t fake the stars or tears in his eyes.
It was hilarious how both mentor and successor steered the management away from the section on All for One in unison, and even more comical how Izuku said, “There’s so much to see! No need to worry about someone so unimportant, right, All Might?”
All Might had guffawed up some blood at the scandalized look of the manager, but the sour face on the curator was by far the best reaction, earning giggles from both him and the young hero. Goodness, what he wouldn’t give to have All for One hear Midoriya say such things.
Towards the back of the museum was a large room dedicated to “The Making of a Hero.” From left to right, from the most recent to the oldest, it was a collection of All Might’s most influential relationships. More recent ones were the current number one hero—they explained that the legacy of the Number One Hero lived on in the next holder of the title—then his sidekicks of the past, Sir Nighteye and David Shield. Sir Nighteye’s mannequin had been made with startling accuracy. He held up a stamp with All Might’s old agency logo on it and stood before a backdrop of villains as if they would all take him by ambush. All Might lingered in front of him, and with a sad sigh, asked the curator to add the words for Sir Nighteye, “I could never have asked for a more loyal and caring friend, nor a more passionate hero to stand at my side.”
Izuku spent a little too long there as well looking at the likeness of his old mentor before moving with All Might to the next section. Before he did, though, he placed a careful hand on All Might’s shoulder and, together, they shared a moment in front of Sir Nighteye. All Might’s gaunt face, filled with mourning, have way to a heartfelt, grateful smile.
“I’m glad you came with me, my boy,” he said. All Might placed a thin hand upon his and squeezed softly. “Thank you.”
The next section was dedicated to his years at UA, with special recognition to Gran Torino. Izuku pulled out his best impression of the man, “Bring me more taiyaki!” and All Might laughed heartily.
When they reached the end of the exhibit, though, All Might’s face went blank. Not the sadness for Nighteye nor the mirth for Torino. Izuku looked up to see—for the first time outside of his quirk—the likeness of Nana Shimura floating above them, smiling down on the pair of them as Izuku knew she would do if she were there. He looked over to All Might, but his mentor wasn’t looking. He had turned his head quickly away from Nana and was already moving on.
“Anything to add for this one, All Might?” the curator called, a little too curious for Izuku’s taste.
All Might paused in the exhibit exit, then shook his head. “No. No, nothing to add.”
Izuku rushed after him. “All Might, are you alright?”
His mentor looked up to him and gave him a shuttered look. “It’s nothing, young Midoriya. I am…glad that Nana is being remembered.”
He wanted to press, but he knew now wasn’t the time, not with the curator behind them recording everything and the manager walking them to the next exhibit, so Izuku simply nodded and carried on alongside him.
The event was ready and the stage set for the museum’s opening, and All Might took to the stage to give his endorsement.
“It is odd to stand in front of a museum dedicated to myself,” All Might joked. “I feel rather like a fossil, ready to take my place in the exhibit.”
The crowd laughed or ‘awwwed’ at his words, some yelling encouragement to their retired Number One Hero. He smiled fondly at the crowd.
He bowed his head. “Still, I am honoured. The importance of one’s history is never to be understated. My path in heroism would never have existed if not for those who came before me, and looking back now, I know I will never forget them for as long as I live. My forebearers will always be held in special reverence within my heart.”
There was a moment of silence as All Might dipped his head, as if praying to those who had long departed. Izuku could feel One for All inside of him and wondered, perhaps, if All Might was speaking to the small ember inside of himself and to Nana, who he had so harshly avoided.
Then he raised his head and clapped, a broad smile on his face. “Let us now honour history itself. In time, I’m sure more and more heroes will be remembered in these halls. Welcome all to the All Might Heroic Memorial Museum!”
With large golden scissors, the bold All Might-red ribbon was cut, and patrons started flooding into the museum. All Might was pulled aside for photos and interviews, leaving Izuku standing with the curator to watch the excitement unfold.
The curator hummed a little under her breath, then sighed. “Well, I suppose that’s the hard part done, isn’t it, lad?”
Izuku nodded, a little awkward. “Umm, yeah, I suppose. The museum’s wonderful, by the way. I don’t know if I told you, but I mean, you could probably guess that I’m, uh, a big fan.”
She chuckled and toyed with the pearls on her necklace. Her crinkled lips turned up slightly. “Oh, I can tell. You are quite close to your mentor, aren’t you?”
Red flags started going off in his mind, so he kept an eye on her movements. “Erm, yes, I suppose. He is one of my teachers.”
“You forget, I saw you comfort him inside,” she pointed out, and he felt suddenly foolish. This woman hadn’t been talking about One for All, just a moment in front of the Sir Nighteye exhibit. She turned to look up at the tall building, a sad look about her ancient face. “I hadn’t expected that reaction to his mentor’s exhibit, I’m sorry to say. You must think I have no tact, to put that in there and ask about it like that.”
“No, no, not at all!” He quickly reassured her, “He is really happy his mentor’s going to be remembered, he said so!”
Her face pinched in worry. “You think so? He looked away so quickly…perhaps something in the language offended him? I should check…”
“I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with it,” Izuku insisted. “I-I’ll come with you! We can take a look together, but I’m sure it’s just, just a hard thing to deal with, you know?”
Izuku shuffled the older woman inside, feeling terribly guilty. Being an All Might fan himself, he would have been devastated if his mentor saw his notebooks and had dismissed them. Imagine someone like this lady putting her all into an exhibit and offending him! He wanted to reassure her the best he could.
The found their way back to Nana’s exhibit, the room sparsely occupied compared to the rooms earlier on the way as people hadn’t made it this far yet. They stood in front of the exhibit once again, and in front of the newspaper clippings and Nana’s floating mannequin.
“You’re right, you know?” the woman said softly. The other patrons likely couldn’t hear a word. “I’m sure it’s a terrible thing to lose a mentor. They become like family to you.”
Izuku nodded. “Yes, I’m-I’m sure that’s why he was upset. Please, don’t be offended. I’m sure he appreciates the effort.”
“If you care to know, I had a mentor too,” she continued, almost like she didn’t hear him. Her voice was airy. “Quite a handsome man, in his day. He was so eloquent and caring. He taught me so much, and gave me the tools I have to do my job. He was a second father to me.”
Izuku listened with heavy heart. “I’m, I’m sorry you had to lose him like that.”
“Is All Might like that for you?” she asked. “Like a father to you. And you, a son to him.”
Izuku rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m, erm, I’m not sure it’s like that. I’m just his student.”
“Oh, don’t be shy,” she whispered seditiously. Her hand lingered on his arm. “I was listening, remember? He treats you with such familiarity. We all start as students, and then become more. He sees you like a son.”
His cheeks warmed and Izuku turned his head away. “Erm, well, he is important to me.”
“I thought so,” she hummed, satisfied. Her grip tightened. “My mentor, well, he knew All Might extremely well. Perhaps you can help All Might remember him…and remember what it’s like to LOSE A MENTOR!!”
Before Izuku could move out of her grip, the older woman’s quirk activated. His body went numb and he felt dizzy, like nothing in himself was right and his skin was too loose for his movements. In his vision, the older woman’s face fell away to a lithe man with a serrated knife and one scar over his pierced nose.
Izuku felt the blade go in, but it felt wrong again. Like it wasn’t him? Or was? It didn’t hurt the way knives always hurt. (Uraraka and Iida would kill him for comparing this stab wound to previous ones like he got them with the same frequency as junk food, but he didn’t eat out a lot, okay? Junk food was just as rare as knife fights!) It wasn’t as sharp, is what he was saying.
“He took All for One from me,” the man growled in his ear as the blade twisted in with a sickening squelch, “But don’t worry, kid; I won’t kill you yet. I’ll wait until it hurts the most.”
Other museum-goers screamed and Izuku activated One for All to fight back against his attacker, but in his disorientation, they’d vanished. They could change faces, he knew, so he probably slipped through the crowd. He resisted the urge to pull out the knife and instead cradled the hilt in his arms to keep it from moving around as he ran out to the exit. Maybe the attacker was fleeing! He could catch someone running in panic!
But they were nowhere to be seen. The crowd parted easily in front of him, luckily, because he seemed to be running a lot faster than he was used to. He looked down at his feet to check and came to a screeching halt.
Those…weren’t his feet. They hadn’t felt like his feet before, but he had though that had been one of the person’s clearly gifted quirks from All for One. Now, looking at the smaller feet and longer legs attached to his torso, the white boots and the navy pants, his lungs went empty. He felt it then and saw it, the skirt-like red cape around his waist, then the larger cape on his shoulders that was the same untarnished white. His newly gloved hands flew up to his head and he gulped to notice a half-bun in his suddenly long, straight hair. He brushed the loose hair in front of his face and gawked. Black. His hair was black.
He couldn’t think of this right now, but before he could start running again he was stopped by security.
“Stop!” he was suddenly faced with two stony-faced guards. “Hold it there, ma’a—sir?”
Izuku surreptitiously checked his chest and breathed a sigh of relief. “Sir.”
His hand went to his throat. Woah. That was not his voice. And it definitely wasn’t the voice of a ‘sir’ even if he had those parts. He sounded like…like…Nana.
“Sir, we’ll call in the paramedics,” the taller one said. “You shouldn’t be running with a serious wound, hero or not.”
“My attacker got away!” Izuku yelped. “We have to find him. He has a scar on his nose, a silver stud piercing on the left nostril, brown eyes, and he can transform into any…one…”
Izuku pressed a hand to his head. Woozy. Wonderful. Probably blood loss.
“Sir, we need to tend to your wound,” the guard said. “If he’s got a disguise quirk, the perp is probably gone by now. Let us staunch the bleeding while we wait for paramedics.”
All Might burst through the doors then, wide-eyed and frantic. “Midoriya! Midoriya, where are you!”
“Here!” Izuku called, but then immediately grabbed his throat. That was too feminine to be him…right? He tried to deepen it. “I’m here, All Might!”
All Might ran towards him, but immediately halted in his place and went deathly pale. “NANA?!”
“No, it’s Izuku!” he called out. “There was a man, he said he was working for All for One, and he—”
All Might fainted.
In the end, All Might was placed in the office and Izuku was brought with him, lowered to the floor and the knife was carefully removed by the in-house emergency responder. The knife came out immediately, but when Izuku tried to remove the shirt he was wearing, it wouldn’t move. They had to attend to the wound blindly underneath his clothes. Paramedics arrived and luckily, one of them had a quirk that let him feel liquids, and he knew that the wound was clean with no sign of internal bleeding.
“It’s strange,” the paramedic said, “but it’s like you weren’t stabbed at all. You were, but none of the structure was damaged. Like you were run through with a ghost blade. You’re bleeding, but nothing inside was hurt. Like—”
“Like they stabbed through a mannequin, or a picture,” Izuku murmured, thinking about it. They hadn’t moved to strike until Izuku was standing in front of Nana’s facsimile, or maybe it had been the newspaper clippings with her picture? So it might be that they could only make the person they touched reflect on a nearby image. Like adopting a mask. Wearing a new skin. It must also provide some protection for the user, which was handy for them since they clearly used the quirk on themselves. Maybe they had copied a nearby museum-goer? They might be able to track them if they saw the security tapes in that exhibit…
“Erm, sir,” the paramedic waved a hand in front of his face, “are you still responsive?”
Izuku blushed. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Just mumbling to myself. Do you, erm, happen to have a mirror? I don’t know what I look like.”
“Oh, I do!” The museum manager pulled a little desk mirror forward and Izuku gratefully accepted.
He was…different, but he wasn’t exactly Nana. Clearly, he didn’t have her breasts and he had checked, he still had his own bits and pieces downstairs. Everything else was pretty close, though. His hair, face shape, lips, size, they were all Nana’s. The only difference was gender and his distinctive features—his green eyes and his freckles. He was an Izuku-ed version of Nana Shimura.
Everything felt wrong, sounded wrong, was wrong. His hands were too slim and his gloves too sleek, so he didn’t grip a mug properly and dropped it. His legs were too long now and he felt like he took up too much space. His hair prickled and irritated his neck and shoulders since it hadn’t been that long before. He hoped this didn’t last.
----
Toshinori couldn’t look at his successor when he woke from his fainting spell. Aside from a quick glance to confirm that Midoriya now sat there, looking like an injured Nana Shimura, the pale retired hero didn’t acknowledge him at all. He even left the room when Izuku started speaking to the police about what had happened.
It wasn’t professional. It wasn’t kind. But he couldn’t bear to see her, let alone see her with a knife sticking out of her stomach and a lost look in her eyes. Hearing her voice was worse. It filled him with longing and grief like he hadn’t felt since just after her death.
Finally, Midoriya gave his statement to the police, they were cleared to go back to UA and get him checked out by Recovery Girl, and to see if Eraserhead’s quirk would work to reverse this one. All Might drove them back in silence.
At the UA gates, Toshinori was all set to go inside and escort his successor to Recovery Girl himself, but then Midoriya reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. But it wasn’t Midoriya’s hand. It was a familiar glove, a familiar scent, a familiar firm but slim hand. Toshinori flinched so far away that he was surprised he was still on the sidewalk.
“You should, herm, go see Recovery Girl,” All Might murmured, eyes lowered. “I’m sure this is all temporary.”
“What, All Might—!”
With nary another word, Toshinori got back in the car and left. Cowardly, perhaps, but he couldn’t be there with the reminder of Nana. There was one place to go—Gran Torino probably had some sochu in his cupboards for special occasions. He would have a drink and in the morning everything would be back to normal.
---
There were no words to explain how Izuku felt when All Might flinched away from him and then left in a hurried escape. He didn’t even enter UA. Izuku was practically abandoned on their stoop like a wayward toddler at an orphanage. The dagger from All for One’s agent had hurt less.
Even more insult came with his injury when he entered the school. The security system recognized his ID badge, so the doors to the school opened, but before he could take more than a step beyond them, they slammed shut and Izuku was forced to dodge an electrified net while an alarm fwup fwupped from the door behind him.
“WOAH, HEY!” Izuku activated One for All and dodged to the right, letting the capture net crash into the gate behind him. The familiar green lightning was the only thing that made this situation worthwhile. Yet, his body still was too big and his legs too long, and his dodge threw him too far and crashed him into the bike racks. “Oww!”
THWIP!
Two strips of capture scarf grabbed at his wrists and Izuku screeched reflexively. What? Don’t judge. If you’d had Aizawa-sensei as a teacher, then you’d know those capture scarves were nightmare fuel, and 15/20 students would scream when caught in them suddenly.
“Who are you?”
Eraserhead was above him on the wall, hair raised and expression as dark as his eyes were light. Izuku felt the tingle of One for All dying down in his mind, but the gloves never disappeared from his hands, and Nana’s hair still tickled his shoulders and neck. He felt more upset at the revelation that Izuku was stuck as someone he wasn’t than at his teacher glaring him down with red eyes and a dangerous expression.
“Hi, sensei.” He waved awkwardly at him. Well, tried to. The capture scarves made it difficult to move his arms, but he did his best. “It’s, ah, well, it’s me, Izuku. There may have been another villain attack. All Might’s okay, but he didn’t, well, I turned into…this. I, erm, also had my life threatened and got stabbed. But that’s healed now!”
Eraserhead squinted at him, looking him over from left to right, side to side, and then right into his still green eyes, then sighed. His hair lowered and a look of sheer frustration crossed his face. “Problem child. Why? Why is it always you? I’m starting to think I should never let you leave campus. EVER.”
“That makes two of us,” Izuku joked. His good humour was marred by the motherly voice, and he cringed. “So, umm, can I go to Recovery Girl now?”
Eraserhead herded him inside and to Recovery Girl’s office fairly quickly to be checked out. While they waited, Eraserhead decided to address the elephant in the room.
“So, where is All Might?” he asked somberly. Aizawa took one look at Izuku’s discomfited expression and scowled. “He left the student he was escorting at the gates while affected by an unknown quirk, unrecognizable to the security system. It was him that left you here, correct?”
“Yes.” Izuku stared down at his hands. “He didn’t tell me where he was going, sir. Sorry.”
Aizawa cursed under his breath in a foreign language. Midoriya looked different, but the mien his now-androgynous body gave off was of pure devastation. The something that had led to Midoriya looking nearly completely different had clearly been meant for All Might, and it clearly had succeeded.
“I’m going to kill that idiot,” he sighed, popping his back and stretching out. It looked like he wasn’t getting any more rest tonight, so might as well get ready to move. “Don’t worry, Midoriya; Nezu will know where he is. Let’s focus on getting you looking like you again.”
“Easier said than done.” Recovery Girl hobbled back, clipboard in hand. “Nothing is ever easy with you, is it, child?”
He flushed.
“Well,” she hummed, “the good thing is, you’re in no danger of further harm. Everything appears to be stable. The unfortunate thing is, since it’s stable, there’s no telling when the quirk itself will wear off or if it even will.”
Izuku’s lung froze in place. If it will?! He hadn’t even considered that the quirk would last a long time. He had been so focused on how wrong it felt, but he could be stuck like this?
Recovery Girl continued with a small, comforting pat to his knee. The touch sent uncomfortable shivers through him—it didn’t feel like his knee, even! It felt like he was wearing another set of skin over his real skin—wrong, disturbing, and very much like he wanted to peel his own skin. “I understand it may be a somber thought, but there is no guarantee one way or another until they catch the person responsible.”
With a groan, Izuku sunk a little lower in his chair. “That’s…not likely. He seemed close to All for One. If he wasn’t caught yet, then he’s good at hiding. His quirk probably makes it easier to hide.”
“Well, we’ll keep an eye on it,” Recovery Girl said. “It could wear off in five minutes or five weeks, or it could be a permanent change. Considering that you are unable to remove the gloves or cause changes to the image that has been projected onto you, I’m inclined to believe it will be temporary. I make no promises, but there is every reason to believe this is an illusion quirk, and quirks such as that usually wear off quickly.”
He let out the breath he had been holding and let himself relax. Okay. Illusion quirk. They were rare, and the average length of duration for illusions quirks was one hour. Izuku was already well past that first marker, but the longest-known acting illusion quirk was only two weeks and had belonged to a villain responsible for a long string of counterfeit charges. They could change small items into gold, jewellery, currency, anything for up to two weeks. That was the maximum. He could hold out that long…. Right?
“My greatest concern was the stab wound,” Recovery Girl pointedly poked his chest, “but the paramedics did a good job, and it appears the illusion acts as if you’re wearing this body as body armor. You’re probably less likely to hurt yourself like this.”
“Does this mean I still have to go to class?” Izuku joked. Aizawa stared dead into his eyes until he backtracked, “Just kidding! Of course, I’m not skipping class. That would be…irresponsible?”
Aizawa let Izuku squirm for a bit before giving an approving nod.
Recovery Girl added, with a hint of reproach towards Eraserhead, “You will still need to take it easy. We don’t know what kind of effects this quirk has on his body. Changing into someone else is bound to have side-effects.”
With that parting warning, Aizawa escorted Izuku from the nurse’s office and out into the afternoon sun. Class had obviously been out for a while, and the sun was skimming the horizon, only the glow of it peeking over the lofty wall of UA. It would have been beautiful if he were seeing it with his own eyes, and not tripping over someone else’s feet.
Aizawa walked him across the lawn then waved him on on his own.
“Go get some rest, problem child,” Aizawa instructed. “And don’t go running off. We’ll find the man who did this soon. And if you do have any more information or turn back into yourself, find the nearest faculty member immediately. Middle of the night or middle of class, understood? Now, go.”
Izuku obeyed and started the longer walk to the dorms before he froze mid-step. “Wait, they won’t know it’s me! How will I—”
Aizawa was already gone, dematerialized into thin air. Izuku’s shoulder dropped dejectedly. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He had convinced Aizawa-sensei pretty quickly, after all, and Class A were his friends. He would be able to convince them that it was him, Izuku.
Even if he didn’t feel like Izuku.
----
Grant Torino heard the soft knocks and assumed that it had been Mrs. Jaru checking in on him again. She claimed it was her job to make sure he hadn’t died since she’d last seen him. To his surprise, it wasn’t the mild-mannered yet tenacious widower down the street, but his old student who knocked so meekly.
He’d only needed to look once at Toshi’s bleeding-heart blue eyes before he opened the door all the ay and hobbled over to his locked kitchen cupboard to grab a much-needed drink.
“Shut the door on your way in,” Gran Torino gruffed, pulling down a dusty bottle and a couple of chipped glasses. “And sit down, boy! You look older than me!”
Toshinori didn’t even chuckle. Such a small thing to most, but Gran Torino was used to hearing shaky laughs, hearty guffaws, and even the world-weary, exasperated sighs to his banter. The silence in comparison to Toshi’s loud mannerisms was as oppressive as an elephant in the room. It was so quiet that Gran might have been worried that his student had gone if Toshi hadn’t sat himself at the creaky table that sat comfortably in his field of vision.
“So, what brought you to my dismal hovel, eh?” He poured a couple of glasses of sochu and slid one over. The way Toshinori threw it back told him enough. “You never visit for fun, boy. What happened?”
Toshinori looked down at his hands, thinking hard about something.
“All for One’s people are still out there,” he announced darkly. Gran Torino leaned forward intently. “Do we know any of All for One’s associates that have illusion quirks? Quirks that can transform him or others into someone else? Disguise them?”
“You realize how hard they would be to identify?” he pointed out. “If he has people like that, they’re hidden and hidden well.”
“We need to find them,” Toshi declared. “Someone working for All for One was able to disguise themselves as a museum employee today, and they attacked. It’s clearly another branch of his operations we haven’t dismantled. I’ve already messaged Tsukauchi and the Chief, and they’ll take over the case—”
Toshinori was raring to go punch villains again, take down All for One, and take out whatever frustration Gran could see building up in him out on this illusionist. Gran Torino hadn’t seen him so worked up since they had learned that All for One was alive once again. It was clear that something had shaken his student and that said student was pushing his emotions into justice instead of taking the time to sort through them rationally.
“Stop that,” Gran Torino gruffed. “Have you learnt nothing? You still let any mention of that man drive you into a frenzy.”
Toshinori grabbed for the sochu, poured, and downed another drink with a bitter expression. “He must be stopped.”
“He already has been,” he reminded his student. In concern, he watch as Toshi downed another glass. “Easy now, you don’t have the same, well, stomach for it that you used to.”
“Don’t care,” Toshinori groaned. “You don’t understand, sensei. This associate…they were dedicated and ruthless. They found their weak point and slammed their blade through it. We have to find them. We need to get this case handled.”
“What case, and why?” Gran Torino pushed. “What happened, Toshi?”
All Might’s focus went inward, and Gran Torino watched as something dark haunted his features. Another drink was poured, and it immediately went down his throat.
“That bad?” Gran Torino asked.
Toshinori made a twisted face either from his next bit of drink or from his question before he answered, “That bad? Yes, yes, I think so.”
Silence was their only companion for a long while, the occasional sound of sochu being poured and the clink of a glass on cheap wood the only thing keeping time. Finally, with red eyes and hoarse voice, Toshinori looked up. “Sensei, why did you make me leave? Why did you take me away?”
Gran’s eyes went wide. “What?”
Toshi’s face contorted into something unspeakably guilty but altogether fierce, like an anger he wanted to but couldn’t surpress. “I wanted…I wanted to stand by her! I wanted to fight that man alongside her! I never wanted to leave her! And I know, I know you took me away because Nana asked, and I know it was the right decision, but I abandoned her! I didn’t get to stay and try to save my master!”
All Might’s fist, enlarged for only a moment, slammed down on the table and his face contorted with tears. “Now that I know the power I had, I wonder if, in the moment, I might have unlocked it just for her. If the desperation would have done anything. I’ve watched Midoriya fight people far beyond his level of skill with his power if only because he would never let them win. Because he had people to save! I hate that I’ll never know if I could have saved her if I hadn’t been taken away.”
Old tears from decades prior were slickening his student’s face, and Gran Torino listened with as much understanding as he could. These grievances weren’t ones that could be mended. Some things were just born from grief and could rarely be assuaged. Not my him, who had run Toshinori from the battlefield, not by Toshinori, who had clearly never truly learned to live with the uncertainty of whether he could have saved his master.
“I don’t regret taking you away,” Gran Torino said.
All Might looked down at his hands. “I know.”
“It was a sacrifice Nana was willing to make to protect you.”
“I know. Still,” Toshinori gulped down another sip, “I hate you sometimes. For taking that away from me. Wondering if…you took her away from me.”
With a sigh, Gran pushed the bottle back towards him. “No use living in the past. But that doesn’t mean we don’t remember and sometimes feel old wounds flare up. Tell me what happened with that villain today.”
With the alcohol loosening his tongue, All Might explained what happened at the museum. How one of the employees had been either impersonated or had never been normal to begin with, and how they had put an illusion on Deku to look like Nana.
“They stabbed her,” he said with haunted gaze far away. “I saw Nana bleeding out with a knife sticking out of her stomach.”
For a moment, that image gripped Gran Torino the same way. But…
“The boy got stabbed?” Gran Torino chuckled morbidly. “Great. I suppose Nezu won the pot for injury BINGO. Never bet against that chimaera, I’ve said it before, but I still bet good money that he would contract some kind of illness or plague. He seemed the type to end up with the least likely injury, eh?”
When Toshi didn’t laugh, Gran redirected. “The kid’s alright though, yeah? You wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t.”
Toshinori’s elbows slid with squeaks down the table as he buried his head in his hands against the wood. “He should be in the dorms by now. He still looks…looks like her.”
“I doubt it,” Gran Torino said with a smirk. “Let me get my album out. Kid couldn’t possibly make the same expressions she made. Let’s see…”
He went to go grab the photos, but Toshi put a hand on his arm and begged, “Please, Sensei, not today.”
With a sigh, he sat his old, creaking bones back into his chair. “Maybe later, then.”
All Might looked out the window, away from his sensei, and into the setting sun. He ached in his heart at the old wounds tearing up their stitches. Would such wounds ever truly heal enough to look upon the face that had once been everything to him? That had protected him and died the same way?
“Maybe later,” he agreed.