Chapter Text
"Hello, citizens of Japan."
The man says with a small, polite smile on his lips.
It's not at all what said citizens are accustomed to when seeing the numerous screens change their pictures to the same setting.
The frequent occurrence these days.
They see not the face of a sneering villain but the docile young man.
"My name is Midoriya Izuku, I'm quirkless and I'm going to blow up Tokyo."
The words were uttered softly, almost losing the impact they should have. Almost not stopping the hearts of thousands.
"I'm sure you have many questions. I will answer them to my best of ability."
He looks directly at the camera, catching the eye of many viewers. The green eyes are agonisingly calm in the wake of rising panic.
"How? There are numerous bombs planted in numerous places. I would not recommend disarming them. The effect won't be worth it. Trust me."
He smiles reassuringly, as if oblivious to the threat he made.
"Why? Isn't that a packed question..." He laughs to himself. "I guess I'm a terrorist. I'm doing what every terrorist do - proving my point. I want someone to listen. And I won't be heard without drastic measures. I want just to prove something. It's as simple as it sounds."
The big eyes wander to his intertwined hands.
"What exactly do I want to prove?"
He's silent for a moment, lost in thought.
Thousands of people are keeping their breath, not daring to interrupt the silence.
Waiting.
"Long time ago, when I was a kid, young and naïve, I had a friend. He was the best, strong and caring," the man smiled wider. "But not for a quirkless kid. No one cares about my kind. No one ever was, no one is... hopefully someone will." He ended wishfully.
The man paused to take a breath.
"But I have to admit - it's more personal than that. I won't paint myself as a selfless hero. I'm not. I’m anything but." He stressed.
Slim fingers started to wring themselves, in a nervous habit.
The words stayed as smooth as ever despite the signs of distress.
"My friend one day told me something that upset me greatly.” He recalled with his gaze seemingly far away from the present.
“It was not the first time he insulted me, but it was the first time he really meant it. "You're weak and useless," he said. He was amazing, I was never doubting him because how such an amazing boy could be wrong? I was too trusting, but contrary to the opinion of everyone I knew, I never was dumb. So I told him what I thought. "I'm not," I said because I knew it to be true. The naïve child I was wouldn't have ever predicted what would happen next.”
The speech was mechanical, detached. An old tale.
“That little, strong boy, the bestest friend I ever had just laughed at me and "Prove it," he said. And while I wasn't weak, I wasn't nearly strong enough to stop the onslaught of heated punches the most amazing person I knew had given me. I was not powerful. I’m not."
He shook his head, finding the mere idea ridiculous.
"I wasn't strong in the physical sense. But no one seemed to notice how strong I am with kindnesses alone, so I figured I had to prove myself… differently. Preferably with the things, the boy who was once my best friend valued the most - violence and destruction."
Words are uttered almost breathless. Dreamy.
"This is for you, Kacchan. Even you can't blow the whole city up. I hope you're watching, so I can finally prove that I'm not weak. The quirkless are not weak. I am not a relic of the past, a grandma's porcelain that will shatter upon touch, left in the cabinet to catch dust and take away the precious space.”
A pause. And then a whisper.
“I won't jump from a building, because that's normal for the likes of me."
The man closed his eyes for a moment, getting his bearings back.
Words are just a little more forceful than before. Unsettling nevertheless.
"You're still the best, aren't you, Dynamight? I hope you will rest easier knowing that the quirkless boy you've been burning so passionately turned out to be a villain. So you can still see yourself to be a hero. Nothing's wrong here. Never was. It was just the natural flow of things. The future hero instincts."
His smile turned a little bitter, losing this edge after a moment.
The polite, unassuming young man was back, as if the whole city wasn’t on the verge of distinction.
"Well... Back to you, Japan. The question you must be interested in the most is probably when? I won't say I'm sorry, because I know that for lots of you it's the last thing you'll hear. I wouldn't want that thing to be a lie.” He said with sincerity.
“The bombs will be triggered the moment this transmission ends or when someone will "defuse" one of them first. I can't afford the time to let you evacuate. I learned that the bigger, the flashier the show is, the more they're inclined to listen."
The great greens lined up with the camera. His eyes were looking straight at the mob. confidently
"I'm not sorry. I hope that your lives won't be lost in vain. I hope it'll be flashy enough to be of any importance to the rest."
The man smiled brightly
"Thank you for listening."
And then Tokyo burned
Almost as bright as that last smile.