Work Text:
Everything hurt.
The dirt ingrained into the deep slashes over his back stung violently, and every single fracture along his arms and legs pulsed in time to his heartbeat. His hands were slipping in the sheer volume of his own slick blood that coated them, face stained red from the gash on his forehead and cheek and just under his eye and there was just so much blood . Blood everywhere , from the multitude of slashes and puncture wounds on his legs, to the slices over his shoulder and bicep, winding down into scratches and gouges over his forearms and palms from his attempts to get closer to his opponent.
Blood everywhere, and too many wounds to count.
Izuku was tired.
Were the world a kinder place, maybe Izuku could have claimed that he was able to ignore the pain, the fear, the eternal exhaustion that came with his existence on this planet. He could have told the others that he powered through anyway, gave it his all and then gave even more. He could have pretended that it was all freely given, rather than endlessly taken.
But the world is not kind, and Izuku had nothing left to give. Not anymore.
Dust and smoke intermingled with one another to create a choking fugue, one that infiltrated his lungs with every gasping breath, clogging up his alveoli with sinister greed. What little air was left was hot and dry, burning Izuku’s throat as it passed through.
The battlefield was mere hours old, and yet already the city of Musutafu was little more than a wasteland of dust, blood and fire. Bodies littered the ground; friend and foe alike frozen in death, expressions contorted into agony or fury wherever you looked.
So many, dead. How many of them were people he knew? How many were friends, teachers, family?
But Izuku couldn’t look, couldn’t mourn. Not yet, not now, not while there was still a war to be won.
Not that there seemed to be much of a chance of victory, not anymore.
He was entirely alone in the centre point of destruction, sprawled atop some chunk of crumbling debris while the remainder of the battle waged on endlessly in the distance. Well… Almost alone.
Izuku coughed, feeling the ominous metallic tang of blood enter his mouth with the motion while his mind re-booted back into overdrive. That latest blast from All For One had been… a lot. Too much, if he wanted a chance of surviving today.
Speaking of, the boy could already hear the telltale crunch, crunch, crunch of the villain’s boots in the asphalt as he stalked closer, the slow, steady pace painful in its assured confidence. All For One knew all too well how weak his opponent was. He knew how close he was to victory.
Gasping, Izuku forced his burning arms to move, pressing them underneath his exhausted body despite the myriad of burns and wounds that decorated the screaming limbs; despite the way they shook and trembled and ached in ways that could only remind him that the end of his limits had long since passed.
Izuku knew, knowing in the bruises mottling each limb and the agony that wreathed them with every movement, that every joint had been fractured over and over again already in this battle; that he had thrown everything he had at the villain, past every limit set on him by teachers and his doctors alike, and yet…
Still.
He.
Came.
Closer and closer, the only sounds past the distant cacophony of battle and Izuku’s own ragged breathing being that damned man’s assured footsteps. Closer, ever closer, and Izuku knew that once they reached him, he would die.
Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing-
No. Squashing the thought as soon as it formed, he used that fury and self hatred as fuel for his exhausted body, finally able to heave himself back up into a sitting position in order to see his exact predicament a little better.
“Never take your eyes off the enemy,” Aizawa-Sensei’s voice echoed in his skull, and Izuku forced open red eyes, irritated and streaming from the dust clogging the air, to confront his nemesis.
All For One.
A measly fifty feet away, the monster of Izuku’s nightmares stalked closer, all seven foot - five inches of horror-inducing villain , and the sole cause of this battlefield. Of Japan’s country-wide warzone, even. His mask was a heavy, garish thing of heavy glass and thick tubing, and according to the Hero Commission, had been the man’s biggest weakness.
That had proven to be nothing but a goddamned lie .
The villain’s biggest fucking weakness was his fondness for chatter, and Izuku had lost his voice from yelling hours ago.
Now…
Now he was injured, exhausted, pushed beyond his limits and the bastard was still fucking standing. Barely sweating, All For One didn’t even have the consideration to at least limp a little - to pretend an injury for Izuku’s own ego if nothing else.
They’d told him that the villain was injured, weak.
Another lie.
(Izuku was getting really sick of lies.)
But there was no point in sitting here and complaining until the villain got within range for yet another devastating attack, now was there? With a heavy exhale, Izuku forced himself to his feet, doing his best to fight through the waves of dizziness crashing through him at the motion.
I’m losing too much blood.
Stab wounds - from one of All For One’s ridiculous supply of quirks - released copious amounts of the fluid to run in red rivulets down his torso, arms and legs. It would probably be a good idea to keep track of how much he had been losing, but honestly Izuku was having a hard enough time keeping his fuzzy thoughts focussed on the target before him, let alone waste it agonising over wounds out of his control.
All For One paused.
He lifted his arm.
Izuku moved to engage.
…
At least, he tried to. In fact, he had every intention to force One For All back into his veins, to power up Float for ease of movement and use Danger Sense to help avoid the villain’s attacks. He had it all planned out- to dodge the initial blast, then counter it with some kind of super-powered kick of his own - hopefully right on the man’s hideous mask, to disconnect his life support and end this battle once and for all.
He tried; he really did.
Things just… didn’t quite work out that way.
One moment; fragmented, shivering tendrils of power wormed their way around countless hairline fractures on Izuku’s bones. His entire body trembled as his vision blurred and nerves screamed with renewed pain.
The next, he was on the ground again, a mere five metres from All For One’s boots, brought there by an attack he barely even saw .
And gods did it burn .
Izuku gasped, winded lungs refusing to cooperate enough to pull in even one wavering breath. His eyes teared up, entirely obscuring his already distorted vision as sheer agony vibrated down his body, each and every wound crying out for his attention.
It was too much- far too much for his body - for his mind - to take. He just wanted to fucking rest , to give his damned limbs a moment of reprieve from the torture he’d forced them through.
But rest was for the dead in this land, and Izuku wasn’t dead yet. Not yet. Not when he still had so much to do. Damnit, he still had a duty to fulfil, he couldn’t be done yet!
Fucking weak, I need to get up. He’s not defeated yet. All Might put his trust in me, damn it! I can’t disappoint them, it’s not over yet so I need to get the fuck UP!
Shallow, panicked breaths had transformed into gasping sobs before Izuku could stop them, and wasn’t that just humiliating . Crying at the feet of the Symbol Of War like a goddamn baby when he had a battle to win.
“Fuck this…” he mumbled, trying halfheartedly to move away from the villain’s reach, before groaning as pain flared anew at the feeble attempt to move his battered body any more. “I’m pathetic .”
May as well just let it happen. All Might should have chosen someone else. I’m so clearly unfit…
The sound of crunching gravel barely registered past the blood roaring in Izuku’s ears, the distinct presence of a person kneeling down beside him seemingly insignificant in the face of his mindless self loathing.
“I’m going to have to disagree with you there, my boy.”
The low rumble of his enemy’s voice was almost enough to startle Izuku back to his senses. Almost. Unfortunately, blood loss combined with the overpowering knowledge of his own worthlessness drove any emotions he may have had against this man out the window.
He’d lost. Who the hell cared what happened now?
“I’ve already let everyone down…” he hiccupped past new sobs, screwing his eyes shut against the amused expression he imagined was painted across All For One’s face.
“ No , Midoriya.” The sheer gentleness of the man’s voice only made Izuku cry harder. How was it that his worst enemy was being kind to him, in the one moment when he deserved it least? “Don’t you see? You’ve done so well, to get this far against me. ”
The distinct sensation of large fingers brushing ever-so-softly through the tangled matts of his hair surprised Izuku, but he found his limbs far too heavy to attempt to reject the unnaturally docile gesture.
“Stop that… I’m supposed to beat you, remember?” He croaked, relaxing against the villain’s hand despite his initial misgivings. There’s no point fighting when you’ve already lost, after all. “It’s my purpose, the reason I got this power. You know-”
“Shhh now, none of that. It’s okay,” All For One interrupted soothingly, his hand never ceasing in its gentle carding through Izuku’s hair. Confused, he cracked open blurred eyes, widening them when he recognised the distinctly kind expression adorning the man’s face.
He’d removed his mask.
All For One’s face was… really not good, for lack of better words. All Might had made his mark in the mass of scarring above the man’s mouth, his eyes and nose obsolete against it. And yet, there was no fury in the man’s eyeless gaze. No hatred, or condescending amusement at the pitiful state of his enemy. Nothing but… his mouth, twisted into a soft, sad smile, almost fatherly in its concern for the boy before him.
And didn’t that just ache .
Noticing his confusion, All For One’s smile shifted slightly, hinting at a wry amusement at the questions hidden behind Izuku’s swiftly dulling eyes. “I can get away for a little time without that blocky thing,” he explained, taking Izuku’s increased responsiveness as a cue to pause in playing with the boy’s hair, instead looping muscular arms beneath his youthful frame, hoisting him into the air with ease.
Strangely, Izuku couldn’t find the energy to protest. He could feel his body slowing down now, responses and reflexes growing weaker and more hesitant as the world spun around him with ever more urgency. Breathing became more and more difficult, and it burned in every fibre of his being. The only thing halting his louder cries was that he no longer contained the capacity, or energy, for screaming.
So instead, he cried silently, writhing pathetically in the villain’s arms when too much pressure was put on his aching bones. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted it to be over already .
Why must fate prolong my suffering?
“Pathetic…” The whisper escaped Izuku’s lips, and he let it hang in the air even as All For One’s displeasure at their presence became apparent.
“Far from it, young one,” he muttered, taking slow, measured steps forward now that Izuku was secure in his grip. The boy found himself being lulled by the rhythm, frazzled nerves calming in the face of this villain’s truce. “I’m proud of you, my boy, really. It was too cruel of them to force you into this battlefield- this war , against me. You could never have won, certainly not alone, as they deigned to send you. It’s not your fault, I promise.”
Disbelieving, Izuku groaned softly, shifting towards a more comfortable position in the warm arms of his nemesis. The heartbeat pulsing behind his eyes was slow now, which was probably a bad thing, the more logical part of his brain warned. Not that it mattered. Not anymore.
“I failed, didn’t I?” His slurred words were barely audible, but the villain still heard, his heartbreak and unadulterated fury audible in his response.
“Success was never an option for you. You never stood a chance, not against the likes of me. I think they knew that, honestly. You… You were nothing but their last resort, in the grand scheme of things. Hell, you knew this, and still you allowed them to place you before me on this battlefield, never once trying to shirk the duty they forced onto your shoulders. For that, you have my eternal respect, child.”
Against every instinct, Izuku found warmth in those words, the feeling momentarily chasing away the encroaching cold hugging his core. The fear he anticipated at the villain’s anger never came, a part of him comforted by the vengeful rage at his predicament found in All For One’s soul. “Thanks…”
“I’m proud of you, Midoriya Izuku.” The gentle fingers resumed their play in his hair, and Izuku let out a soft breath of satisfaction, vision going dark at the edges now that he was no longer fighting against it. “Now rest. You did well. So, very well.”
A shallow breath in. A shaky release.
Black spots swarmed across Izuku’s vision, that deep cold in his chest overwhelming his fading senses to incomprehensibility.
He found… he couldn’t quite force that next breath.
And… that was okay.
I’m tired.
“Rest, my child. Rest, and hope for a kinder world when you are next reborn.”
The darkness won, in the end.
Izuku found, in those final, fleeting moments of consciousness, that he didn’t really mind.
In fact, he smiled, the first real one in far too long a time.
His heart halted, and its silence echoed.
Society had forced their hopes onto a child, against the villain who was centuries old. They placed their bets on a teenager, putting power on his shoulders and begging him for aid when they discovered their own helplessness against great evil. The world had rested its weight on the back of a boy still years from adulthood, ignoring his cries for help in favour of their own selfish self-preservation.
A crow cawed, his message all too clear.
The world had lost.
***
All For One held a dead child in his arms while he stalked through the battlefield, and he was furious.
This boy, who even in his dying moments had not truly acknowledged how wrong the world was for forcing him into such a position. This boy, who All For One could not restrain himself against because the child would only prolong the process of breaking himself, in a futile attempt to defeat the strongest and oldest villain in Japan. This boy, who was only just hitting puberty, had been sacrificed in a vain attempt to end the war by 'heroes' who knew not the weight of his passing.
As such, All For One raged at the stupidity of heroes who thought it was a good idea to place the expectations of an entire country on the shoulders of a boy, before sending him into battle against a supervillain, alone . He fumed at the thought that All Might himself had picked this mere teenager to succeed him, knowing full well the dangers associated with such an ancient and bloodied legacy. He seethed in the knowledge that it had been up to him to comfort the budding hero in his final moments, for no one else had been brave enough to draw near to their battlefield.
And so, All For One walked, the too-young hero cradled in his arms, limp and pale in the early moments of death. His infra-red quirk allowed him to observe how the tangled mass of the boy’s hair hung limp from his skull, unkempt and neglected from stress long before their battle had come to be. He could trace the fragile worry-lines adorning the child's face, lines that shouldn't have been made form for another decade at the least.
The stress that Midoriya Izuku had been put under for the sake of this measly war was nothing short of despicable .
All For One planned to make them all pay. Today, the entirety of this rotting hero society would understand the depth of his fury, and tremble in the knowledge of his purpose. All For One had won, and soon the world would know it.
Of course, it was not the defeat of One For All that granted him his victory. It was not the demise of the hero Deku, of Midoriya Izuku, that assured him of his domination.
It was the sacrifice of a child, in the end, that would spell the heroes’ defeat.
So when All For One marched through the burning battlefield, he did not smile at the horror decorating those very heroes’ faces. He did not grin at the shrieks of fury from pesky, self-righteous teachers, who seemed to think they deserved such an emotion in the face of this tragedy. He did not laugh when the tears finally came, when the eyepatched homeroom teacher fell to his knees, when the lovestruck schoolgirl dissolved into sobs, nor even when the ‘overprotective’ mother found for once that… she had no more tears left to give.
No, he remained stony faced and silent as he faced his hoards of loyal allies, and all knew better than to cheer this victory.
For as T.S. Eliot once said, all those hundreds of years ago:
“ This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.”