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“But, well, from your perspective, I guess we haven’t met since the attack on UA, huh? Why don’t we have tea or something, Midoriya Izuku?”
Izuku froze as he finally realized who had sat down next to him. “Shigaraki Tomura!”
“Act natural, like I’m an old friend.” A thumb and three fingers made their way around the back of Izuku’s neck. “Don’t make a fuss, okay? I want to talk to you, that’s all.”
Around him, the hustle of people shopping continued, blind to the tension playing out on the small bench tucked behind the water fountain. But to Izuku, his whole world narrowed to just himself and the hooded villain beside him. “A hero will come and catch you in no time—”
Shigaraki chuckled darkly, and the rough sound made Izuku’s skin crawl. “Before I’m caught I could crumble twenty—no, thirty people…”
And just like that, bam, the mall came back into focus for Izuku. The throngs of people, families, children, his friends, all milling around without a care in the world, without a clue of the danger they were in.
Izuku swallowed heavily, feeling the fingers around his neck shift with the movement. “I’ll come with you peacefully, but let’s go somewhere quieter. You want to talk to me? I’ll listen. Just—not here.”
“Hmm,” Shigaraki said, absentmindedly stroking along Izuku’s pulse point. “You’ll listen?”
“Yes.” Izuku looked around, moving only his eyes so as not to accidentally brush against Shigaraki’s single raised finger. A-ha, there, behind the potted tree. A service door. Izuku pointed to it. “In there.”
“Yes, in there, good,” Shigaraki repeated. He tightened his grip on Izuku’s neck as he stood, giving the hero-in-training no warning as he struggled to keep up with Shigaraki’s long strides.
The doorknob was locked but swiftly turned to dust, and the pair were soon heading down a darkened corridor. Past backrooms, flickering fluorescent lights, and down multiple service staircases, Izuku soon found himself in a barren concrete room, just him and Shigaraki. Far enough down that the people in the mall were safe—and that they would never be able to hear Izuku’s cries for help. Shigaraki let go of Izuku’s neck as the villain pushed him into the room, shutting the heavy metal door behind them with a clanging finality.
“So,” Izuku said awkwardly, struggling to keep his voice from shaking with fear. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“What did I… want to talk to you… about?” Shigaraki repeated eerily. “I want to talk to you about… what did I want to talk to you about?” He paused and tilted his head in confused contemplation.
“Um, Shigaraki-san?” Izuku asked. “Are you okay?”
“I’m Shigaraki,” the man said. “That’s me. And I wanted to talk to you.”
“Right, we established that. That’s why I’m here.”
“You! You’re the kid from the UA sports festival, and from the USJ! You fought against my Nomu!”
“Uh, correct, I’m Midoriya Izuku. You already said that. Are you… feeling okay?” Izuku was starting to get really weird vibes from this entire conversation.
“Yeah, I’m—where are we? How did I get here?” Shigaraki looked over at Izuku and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Where did you take me? Are you here to help me?”
“We’re in a storage room under the mall. You brought me here, because there was something you wanted to talk to me about.”
“I did? Hmm.” Shigaraki took out his cellphone and pressed a few buttons, muttering to himself. Izuku strained to hear the soft words. “Why did I come here? Was there something All-for-One sent me for? Kurogiri will know. He’ll tell me what to do. Damn, no signal, we must be really far underground.” And then, still fiddling with his cellphone, Shigaraki walked over to the thick metal door, opened it, and headed back up the stairway.
Izuku stood stock-still, not understanding what had just happened. He waited nearly twenty minutes for Shigaraki to return, but the villain never did. And weaving his way back up to the mall, he found the service door still blocked by the mop Shigaraki had jammed through the handles. Shigaraki had just disappeared.
With a puzzled frown, Izuku unblocked the door and re-entered the mall. He needed to find his friends, but then he would need to make some phone calls—Aizawa-sensei and All Might for sure, and probably to the police as well. He just wasn’t sure exactly what to tell them. What had even just happened?
“And then he just… left?” Eraserhead confirmed, frown etched into his face.
Izuku nodded, and kept his focus on the police detective who was taking his statement. “And the door was still blocked off, so he must have used a different exit.”
“Right,” the detective said, closing his notebook. “He just disappeared?”
A shrug and another nod. “He was muttering to himself, and seemed really confused. I think there’s something—”
“That’s enough, Midoriya,” Eraserhead cut in. “The detective took your statement; it’s time to leave this to the pros.”
“But—”
“Enough,” his teacher repeated, dismissing the police officer with a wave of his hand. “You did the right thing by calling the police, but that’s where your involvement in this ends.”
Izuku twisted his mouth displeased and didn’t say anything else. But there had just been something so off about Shigaraki’s behavior. Izuku’s concerns were soon put to the back of his mind as his classmates were finally allowed forward to gather around him, asking what had happened.
The next day in a side classroom, however, Izuku brought up his concerns to All Might.
“All-for-One? Are you sure that’s what he said?” All Might’s voice was tight in a way Izuku had never before heard it.
“Yes,” Izuku confirmed. He remembered it well; its striking similarity to the name of his quirk had etched it deeply into his mind. “Does that mean something to you?”
All Might let out a pained sigh. “All-for-One. A quirk that could steal quirks from others and make them the holder’s.”
“All… everything for one person?”
“Yes. He stole quirks from people, committing evil acts to his heart’s content. I fought him—and was finally able to defeat him! At least, that’s what I thought. But he survived, and has started moving again as the brain behind the League of Villains.”
“Are you saying that Shigaraki isn’t the leader? That he’s… a follower of this All-for-One?”
“That’s right, my boy. And that’s why Shigaraki is dangerous and must be eliminated with prejudice.”
“But that’s what I’m concerned about—once we were in the basement, Shigaraki suddenly seemed really confused, like he didn’t know how he’d gotten there. Is it possible—”
“Shigaraki is dangerous. Don’t fall for his tricks; you need to be smarter than that, Midoriya my boy.” All Might’s phone chirped, and he checked the screen. “Ah, drat, duty calls. If there was nothing else…?”
Izuku shook his head morosely. He’d hoped All Might would at least hear him out, but it seemed like the hero’s hatred and fear of All-for-One was too large. He watched All Might fly out the window and felt his heart sink.
“Ah, Midoriya-kun,” a new voice chimed up, startling Izuku.
He looked around in puzzlement before finally looking directly up, where the UA principal was poking out from an innocuous air vent. “Principal Nedzu?”
“I, erm, happened to overhear—” was eavesdropping “—your conversation with Yagi-san. He can be a bit short-sighted when it comes to All-for-One.”
“You don’t agree with him?”
The principal waved a white paw back and forth in a seesaw motion. “I’m interested in your thoughts.”
“It’s dumb,” Izuku said, face pinkening. “All Might is right, Eraserhead is right. Shigaraki’s dangerous. I’m not a pro hero, I don’t know what I was talking about.”
“Nonsense,” Nedzu said, finally fully dropping into the empty classroom and perching on the desk nearest Izuku. “You have a good head on your shoulders, and you’re the one who actually spoke to him. I’m interested in your thoughts.”
“Well.” Izuku paused, unused to the intent interest. “Shigaraki seemed really confused once we got to the basement, and we were pretty deep underground and went through several metal doors. All-for-One has been collecting quirks for hundreds of years at this point, right? Isn’t it possible that he’s added some sort of… I don’t know. Influence quirk? Or telekinesis or mind control or something like that?”
“Are you suggesting that All-for-One is controlling Shigaraki?”
“Just a thought,” Izuku said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Or maybe Shigaraki’s as evil as everyone thinks he is. It’s just—he seemed so young. Like only a few years older than me. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Nedzu disagreed. “But there’s nothing really for the heroes or police to do, even if it’s true. Shigaraki is still dangerous, and from what you said sounds like he’s at least a willing participant in All-for-One’s schemes.”
“Yeah, but—” Izuku sighed, unsure how to frame his thoughts. There were degrees of dangerousness, degrees of malice. “So I’m just supposed to let it go?”
“Ah, now, I didn’t say that. The police and heroes won’t do anything different, but the actions you take are entirely your own.”
“What… what does that mean?”
“Midoriya-kun, you always have a choice. You can continue to show up here to UA every day, learning to be a hero, and leave it to the police or heroes to handle. And maybe it’ll turn out okay for Shigaraki, or maybe it won’t. But it’ll be out of your hands.”
“The way you worded that makes it sounds like you’re about to say something ridiculous, like ‘or you can leave UA and go after Shigaraki yourself,’” Izuku laughed. And stopped, once he saw the look on his principal’s face. “You cannot be serious. You—you can’t be suggesting vigilanteism! You’re a hero!”
“I am indeed a hero,” Nedzu confirmed. “And I am also a quirked animal. I have an impeccable moral code, but you must never mistake it for a human’s moral code.”
“That’s crazy. You’re crazy.”
“Maybe.”
Izuku began muttering, pacing among the empty desks in the classroom. “What would I even do? Try to find Shigaraki, and then what? Go up to him and ask whether he’s being brain-controlled by All-for-One—and if he is? Wouldn’t All-for-One know I’m asking Shigaraki that, and just take over his body then and kill me? Well that’s not going to work. And if I’m wrong, and Shigaraki is just as evil as they say he is? Argh.”
“If I may make a suggestion, Midoriya-kun?” Nedzu handed a small slip of paper over. “Two new associates just joined up with Shigaraki’s forces, but they’re both followers of Stain, not All-for-One. They might be willing to talk to you.”
Izuku took the paper. “If you have their names already, you were already planning on having me or someone else go after them, right? Why aren’t you doing it yourself?”
“This is how I operate,” Nedzu said with a shrug. “Not to diminish you or any other hero, but at times it feels as if I am Rube Goldberg and you are all just cogs in my machine.”
“I don’t think I like that metaphor.” Izuku frowned.
“You don’t have to like it to participate,” Nedzu said, not incorrectly. “I estimate your probability of success at 75% and your probability of death only at 10%, which is frankly kinder odds than many other heroes I considered for the job. Though if it makes you feel better, I can come up with a cover story to give your mother and classmates that will cover any outcome satisfactorily.”
It didn’t make Izuku feel better.
The contacts on the slip of paper Nedzu had slipped Izuku had been hard enough to find, but now that Izuku had tracked them down the next issue was how to approach them.
“Hi, I’m Toga! Himiko Toga!”
Or he could luck out, just be standing awkwardly on a street corner and be the one approached. “Um, hello?” His voice was muffled under the black medical mask he’d been wearing to disguise his features as he followed the contacts through the bad part of town.
“You’ve been following us,” the blonde girl said impishly, a small pout on her thin lips. “Are you a follower of Mr. Stainy too?”
“Think carefully about your answer,” a gravelly voice came from behind Izuku. “She’s certifiable.”
Izuku whipped his head around to see the other contact—the one Nedzu’s note had called Dabi. He stumbled back to get both of the presumed villains in view. “I—”
“Ooh, when you’re flustered all the blood runs to your cheeks,” Toga cooed. “I like that.”
“Still waiting for an answer,” Dabi said. “Why have you been following us?”
“I—” Izuku swallowed, hoping his instincts weren’t leading him astray. “I’m a former hero student. I dropped out—”
“Like Mr. Stainy did!”
That wasn’t something Izuku had known. “Uh, right. I dropped out because I didn’t think the heroes or police were going to go after the League of Villains correctly.”
Dabi snickered cruelly. “So you, a literal child with minimal hero training, dropped out with the intention of—what, taking down the League yourself?” He gathered a blue flame in the palm of his hand and stared at Izuku incredulously, threateningly. “And you thought you’d start by taking us down?”
Izuku shook his head, waving his hands quickly in denial. “No! Oh, no, I’m not here to fight you.”
“Then why are you here, kid? Go play heroics somewhere else.”
“Wait—Shigaraki Tomura. You’ve met him, right?”
“Tomura-kun?” Toga tilted her head curiously. “Sure. We’re helping him carry out Mr. Stainy’s message.”
Once again, Izuku shook his head no. “Shigaraki isn’t on Stain’s side—he’s trying to destroy all of hero society, including All Might. Shigaraki’s working under someone named All-for-One.”
“But Mr. Stainy said All Might is a good hero,” Toga pouted.
“All-for-One is a myth,” Dabi said, uncertainly. “A boogeyman, a bedtime story.”
“All-for-One is very real,” Izuku said. “And not just that—have you ever noticed Shigaraki doing something weird? Forgetting where he was or what he was doing, changing things abruptly?”
Toga nodded eagerly, but Dabi just arched an eyebrow and replied in a slow drawl. “Are you suggesting that Shigaraki is just… what, a puppet? That the boogeyman of the underworld is the one pulling his strings?”
Izuku shrugged but nodded. “It fits, right? I mean, I don’t think that Shigaraki himself is actually a good guy—he’s completely off his rocker and dangerously destructive. But he doesn’t seem like he’s end-of-the-world destructive, in those moments when he seems to slip from All-for-One’s control, right?”
“So. What.” Dabi frowned. “Why should we care? In case you missed it, kid, we’re villains.”
“What part of end-of-the-world destructive don’t you get?” Izuku asked anxiously. He needed their help—he had no plan without it.
“I don’t want end-of-the-world destructive,” Toga said, sticking her tongue out at Dabi. “I live in this world.”
Dabi let out a painful, angsty, resigned sigh. “Fuck you and your ‘just cause,’” he grumbled. “Fine. What d’you need us to do?”
“First thing I need,” Izuku said, finally lowering his medical face mask. He saw flashes of recognition jolt through both of the villains’ faces. “You’re going to help me join the League of Villains.”
Toga tipped her head cutely, tapping her chin in thought. “Did you know that Tomura-kun carries around a photo of you in his wallet?”
“Wait, what—!”
Izuku shifted from foot to foot nervously as he stood behind Dabi and Toga. It had taken several days, but he was finally going to be formally brought into the League of Villains—as long as Shigaraki didn’t kill him in the process first.
“Quit your twitching, kid,” Dabi growled as they ducked down an alley. “Shit, you’re making me anxious.”
“Sorry,” Izuku mumbled, dipping his head. He tried to still his body as he looked around the seemingly dead-ended alley.
Dabi was already pulling out his cellphone and placing a quick call. “Yeah… same alley, right… we’ve got a guest we think Shigaraki’ll be excited to see… uh-huh… yep.” He ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket before turning to Izuku. “Hope you don’t get motion sickness.”
A purple-black portal opened in front of them, showing the interior of a run-down bar. Toga hopped through excitedly, and Dabi followed at a more sedate pace. “Better hurry up if you don’t wanna get left behind,” the man called out behind him.
Izuku took a deep breath and stepped through the portal.
Only to find three fingers and a thumb closing rapidly around his neck, a perfect fit for the almost-faded bruises that were nearly healed.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Shigaraki said, though his tone was more bemused than angry. “Why’d you bring this hero brat here?”
“Not a hero brat anymore, apparently,” Toga said with a broad grin. “He’s going to help us.”
“A likely story,” Shigaraki said, tightening his hand around Izuku’s neck.
“Please—” Izuku choked out, scrabbling against the fingers impeding his breathing. “I’m—”
“I do recall reading about it in the Mustafa Times,” the dark-smoke-like bartender spoke up—Kurogiri, Izuku remembered the name. “A small article that Midoriya Izuku had left UA due to stress over the recent attacks.”
The fact that there was only that article—and that his mother hadn’t initiated an all-points-bulletin manhunt for her child—had Nedzu’s paws all over it. Izuku supposed he should be thankful.
“True—” he coughed, massaging his neck as Shigaraki finally released him. “I couldn’t—couldn’t stop thinking about what you said at the mall. About hero society.”
“At the mall… ah right. Yes.” Shigaraki nodded, and steepled his fingers together in pleasure. “I’m glad what I said was able to get through to you.”
“So what’s the plan for today?” Dabi interrupted. “You actually need us for anything?”
“There are some new recruits coming tomorrow,” Shigaraki said, doodling absently on a scrap of paper as he looked over at Dabi. “I want you and Toga to be there to look them over with me.”
“Yeah, whatever.” “Sure thing, Tomura-kun!”
“And me?” Izuku asked, voice shaking but attempting to sound confident.
Shigaraki laughed dryly. “Yeah,” he said, patting Izuku’s back with a tucked-in pinky. “You can come too, hero-dropout.” With that, and mumbling something about video games, the villain headed towards the back stairs of the bar.
Izuku looked at Dabi and Toga, now unsure of what to do. They both shrugged at him, and he knew he’d get no more help from them—they’d done their parts, getting him to see Shigaraki. Now it was up to Izuku to figure out what to do.
He sighed and squeezed into a booth, sliding his hands into his hoodie pockets and thunking his head on the polished wood surface. But wait—what was that he felt in his pocket? Furtively, making sure that Kurogiri couldn’t see, Izuku pulled out a scrap of paper. How had that gotten there?
Wait 5 minutes then come to my room. -S
After furtively looking around the bar to make sure no one had noticed—from what Toga said, it had sounded like Kurogiri was also under All-for-One’s control—Izuku shoved the scrap of paper back into his pocket. He idly waited until he thought five minutes had passed, before sliding out of the booth.
“Um, Dabi,” he said nervously, trying to motion with his eyes. “Where’s the toilet?”
Thankfully, Dabi seemed to understand the look. “There’s one in the back but it’s rank; pretty sure I caught gonorrhea from the toilet seat last month. You should use the one upstairs. The stairs are right there—” he pointed to the door Shigaraki had left through “—up one floor, second door on your left. Right across from Shiggy’s room.”
Izuku crinkled his nose in disgust but nodded gratefully, heading towards the stairs. Kurogiri eyed him up but quickly dismissed the sight, though Izuku was glad when he was finally away from the hazy bartender. The upstairs bathroom was easy to find, as was Shigaraki’s door—though the “KEEP OUT” and “FUCK OFF” signs in the otherwise barren hallway would have been enough of a pointer without Dabi’s guidance.
Contrary to the instructions to “FUCK OFF,” Izuku knocked at the door.
“Keep it down,” a voice hissed. The door opened a sliver, just enough for Izuku to be tugged into the room, before it was shut behind him.
The room was… shiny.
The walls and ceiling were plastered with tin foil, overlapping sheets taped and stapled and tacked together to be one large silver cube. A rounded mass of foil was also curved over Shigaraki’s head, a horrifying halo of silver atop greasy ice-blue waves.
“Um,” Izuku said, looking around. “So I’m guessing you figured out that All-for-One is in your head.”
Shigaraki snorted. “Yeah. He lets me get away with a bit of—” the villain gestured around his room “—teenage rebellion, but it’s about 50-50 who’s in the driver’s seat.”
Izuku frowned. “And you’re okay with that?”
“Hero society refused to help me when I needed them most—All-for-One was the only one who cared about me. Together we’ll bring about the downfall of heroes.”
“Sounds to me like you’re the one shouldering all the risk,” Izuku said. “All-for-One is hiding who-knows-where, and you’re here taking all the action. Heroes will catch you, and maybe kill you—and All-for-One will get off scot-free.”
“Watch your mouth,” Shigaraki growled, jabbing Izuku’s shoulder with an ungloved finger in a clear threat. “You don’t know anything.”
“I know that you’re the fall-guy for a centuries-old feud that doesn’t even matter anymore. I know that you’re probably going to fail, and that All-for-One will just move on. Like he has so many times before. This isn’t your fight. This isn’t our fight.”
Shigaraki snorted cynically. “So what, you’re saying I should just leave? And do what? Go back to school, get a job, friends, a little house with a fenced-in yard for a dog?”
“I mean, if that’s what you want?” Izuku said, unsure. “What do you want?”
“I want to survive,” Shigaraki said, bluntly. He pointed at the tin foil contraption on his head. “And right now, that means going along with All-for-One. What I want doesn’t matter.”
Izuku looked at him solidly. “It does matter. And I’m going to help you get out.”
“Do what you want. Just don’t come crying to me when you fail.”
To Izuku’s massive surprise, it was actually Toga who’d found someone to help with his request. He was incredibly leery of agreeing to meet her contact, who it seems had been a childhood girl friend (and maybe girlfriend? Izuku wasn’t sure) of Toga’s. For all Izuku knew, the contact was equally bloodthirsty as Toga, and he was going to wind up getting stabbed in this back-alley workshop he’d been directed to.
A rusty sign hung above the slab metal door: Tinker. This must be the place—the shuttered workshop where Toga’s friend had agreed to meet up with Izuku. He hesitated at the door, worrying about waking up in an ice bath missing a few essential organs, and then pulled himself together enough to knock.
The metal door whipped open, Izuku felt himself be grabbed by the collar and yanked into the workshop, and then the door whipped back closed again. Once his eyes finally adjusted to the dim yellow gaslight lamps, he realized—
“Hatsume Mei?!”
“Mister Ten Million! How’ve you been?” She looked him over with an assessing eye before grabbing him in a tight bearhug. “Himiko was all hush-hush about who she was sending my way. Am I surprised to see you! Especially after what happened last night!”
Wait… what? “What happened last night?” Izuku had been staying at a no-questions-asked lodging house in Kamino near the bar, and hadn’t been keeping up with the news.
Hatsume gasped theatrically. “Why, class 1-A being attacked by the League of Villains, of course!”
She pulled out a clearly-handmade phone and flicked through pictures—up close and personal, of the UA first year students confronting the League of Villains. Pictures that could have only come from someone there. One additional swipe through the photos showed a selfie of Toga making a kissy-face.
Izuku pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. Dabi and Toga had been arranging to do something with Shigaraki, and they’d all made it clear it would be better if Izuku wasn’t a part of it. Attacking class 1-A must have been it. They were all just making it harder for him to get their involvement separated from All-for-One. He was trying to help save their lives, dang it!
“Was anyone seriously hurt?”
“Hmm? Nope.”
Izuku sighed in relief. At least that was something he wouldn’t have to worry ab—
“—though they did kidnap the blond bomb kid.”
Fuck. Izuku had never before been a fan of profanity, but it seemed like the appropriate time to start.
“We might have to move our window up,” he admitted, fishing the rough plans he started from out of his pocket. “Do you think you can make something like this?”
“With the—hmm. What does this—oh, I see.” Hatsume rotated the sketch, eying up the detailed notes Izuku had left. “Yeah, this is do-able. Two weeks?”
“Two days?”
“That’s asking a lot. I’m good, but—”
“It’s the best chance for all of us—Toga included—to make it out of this alive.”
“Two days,” Hatsume confirmed with a nod, already starting to dig through a basket of wires on the nearest workbench.
Izuku let himself out of the workshop, back into the night. Plans were finally in motion. He just hoped that the League’s recent actions—and good god was he going to kill Dabi for not telling him that they were planning on kidnapping Kacchan—didn’t move the timetable up too far.
There had barely been time to get ready before Izuku realized the heroes were about to storm the bar in Kamino. Overheard chatter on a police radio gave them a scant few minutes, though luckily Izuku had already been upstairs planning with Shigaraki. When the warning came over, Izuku hurried down the stairs to the main room of the bar—coming face-to-face with their new captive for the first time in nearly a month.
“Shitty Deku!” the blond boy exploded. “Is this where the fuck you’ve been? I should’ve know you were working with the fuckin’ bad guys.”
“Shut up,” Izuku stammered in a hushed whisper, hands up as he approached the chair Bakugo was tied to. “The heroes are going to be here in less than five minutes. When they get here, I need you to run, okay? Clear out.”
“The fuck are you on about?” Bakugo hissed back, though he had stopped struggling against the ropes.
Izuku approached the chair and, pulling out a pocket knife, began sawing through the quirk-resistant ropes. “I’ve got a plan, but you’ve got to get out. Trust me. Please, Kacchan.”
Bakugo rubbed his wrists as the ropes dropped away, but looked at Izuku wryly. “Dumb-ass. You couldn’t even become a villain correctly, eh? Should’ve figured you’d be too much of a goodie-two-shoes hero fanboy to ever turn evil.”
“Thanks, Kacchan,” Izuku said, returning Bakugo’s half-smile. He flashed his eyes over to the door, and then back to his former friend. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Don’t get yourself killed, idiot. Shitty-Hair and Round-Cheeks aren’t half the rivals you are. And don’t even get me started on Tape-Face, Pikachu, and Racoon-Eyes. You better come back and give me some real competition once this is over.”
It was the biggest compliment Bakugo had ever given Izuku, and the grin that split his face was blinding. “Same to you.”
And then Izuku was hurrying up the stairs to return to Shigaraki, Dabi, and Toga. And then a commotion was coming from downstairs as the heroes busted into the bar, and then Izuku and the other League of Villains members were spitting up a gray sandy sludge, and then they found themselves in a derelict lot outside a warehouse—and was that All-for-One in the flesh!?
Shigaraki re-affixed a preserved hand to his face, though the rest of his creepy hands were missing; he was still in a black hoodie and sweatpants, a gaming headset hanging around his neck instead of the expected hand-choke neckpiece. But nonetheless he stood next to All-for-One and took a fighting stance too eerily similar to his sensei’s to be anything other than under control in that moment. Kurogiri was missing—had the heroes at the bar been able to capture him?—but Dabi and Toga stood with Izuku on All-for-One’s other side. Several of the beastly Nomus stood behind Shigaraki, alert but unmoving.
In front of them—a defeated All Might, pounded into the ground by All-for-One before they’d been summoned there. The hero wasn’t dead yet, Izuku could see his chest move up and down in small increments, but he wasn’t moving otherwise.
A news helicopter was buzzing around in the sky, shining spotlights on the scene below. Izuku could picture the headlines—All Might Slain in Fight of the Century! But the fight wasn’t over—not yet. He briefly met Dabi’s and then Toga’s eyes, and nodded. Now. Izuku reached into his pocket and pressed the keycharm-sized switch.
The headset around Shigaraki’s neck whirred to life, flashing yellow before a cybernetic dome began to fold up around his head. All-for-One shouted in alarm, as the still-controlled Shigaraki began to scrabble against the contraption.
But wait—the dome wasn’t closing. Shit, it was being blocked by the hand on his face. There was only one thing to do.
Izuku let One-for-All gather in his legs, green lightning beginning to crackle as glowing red cracks formed in his skin. “One-for-All, Rhode Island Smash, one thousand percent.”
“Springlike-Limbs and Kinetic Booster,” All-for-One growled, figuring out what Izuku was planning and bringing two of his own quirks to the forefront.
With a flash of electric green, Izuku leapt towards Shigaraki. A hammer of a fist rammed into his side, turning him slightly off course. Izuku felt several of his ribs shatter—ouch, was that his lung?—but kept moving forward with everything he had. He reached out, now too far from Shigaraki to physically touch, but flicked his fingers in a long-since-perfected puff of air.
“Delaware Smash,” he wheezed out, unable to even look and see if his shot had landed. His body fell to the ground in a sliding crash, tearing up skin as he rolled painfully across the surface.
But a strangled cry from All-for-One let him know the flicked air had aimed true—it had knocked the hand off of Shigaraki’s face, allowing Hatsume’s contraption to seal off around Shigaraki’s head and fully break All-for-One’s conditioning. And then All-for-One was no more: instantly turned to dust by the boy he’d saved, by the teenager he’d groomed into villainy. Years, decades, centuries of evil—just gone in a single instant.
Body protesting, Izuku pushed himself up on one elbow to look over at the remaining League of Villains. In the insanity, Dabi and Toga had destroyed the statue-like Nomu. Together with Shigaraki, the three of them slowly wandered over to Izuku.
“Fuck, kid,” Dabi said, taking a hard seat on the ground next to Izuku’s broken body. “You sure put on a good show.” Under the flashing spotlight of the helicopter, he put his hands up in a wry surrender.
“I’m hungry,” Toga said, neatly arranging her Nomu-innards-splattered skirt before taking a seat next to Dabi and mirroring his position.
“I’ve heard surprisingly decent things about prison food,” Shigaraki said dryly, taking his own surrender position. “Though I don’t think their wifi’s fast enough for gaming.”
With immense effort, Izuku flopped over so he could see the three villains. “When the police get here, ask for Principal Nedzu.” He drew in a shaking breath, wincing in pain. “He’s a long-standing advocate for rehabilitation programs. Let me ask you a question—how would the three of you feel about going back to high school?”