Chapter Text
It was a warm, damp summer evening, the sun still beaming, in no rush to set.
All for One stood on top of a skyscraper, far away from everything, the clouds almost brushing against his pale hair.
The man who used to be known as the Demon Lord had fallen far from his old title: people in the streets were able to enjoy the sunny day, completely oblivious and unfearful of his gaze.
Like all of them weren’t just useless trash under his feet.
The Villain, however, had a satisfied smile on his face.
His white eyes were pointed like those of a predator. A normal man, from that far, would have hardly been able to see anything deserving of such interest.
But All for One wasn’t a normal man.
A small child, no older than five, was crawling under a bridge, looking for protection from the merciless sunbeams.
All for One, despite himself, couldn’t help feeling a little of respect for the poor creature.
Of course it was no more than the kind of esteem a human would reserve for a particularly stubborn ant refusing to die squashed under a shoe, but still.
The child had walked for two days straight before finally giving up. Now, like a stray animal, he was hiding away to die.
“Ah, Nana Shimura, you’d be so proud of your student!” Said All for One, his pleased grin unfaltering. “He created such peacefulness that none of the civilians you died to protect would feel compelled to lift a finger to help your own grandson!” He chuckled, but the way his eyes widened prevented his amusement from looking in any way contained.
“I don’t get it,” said a voice behind the Villain. All for One turned, and found his oldest friend, Doctor Garaki Kyudai, looking towards the bridge as well. “Why did you still give him the Quirk? Now that I found a way to engineer a new body for you, you could have just killed Shimura’s family off without using the child.”
“Why, and waste such a precious investment?”
“If I may, I don’t understand how that brat is a better investment than Decay itself.”
All for One smiled, and looked back to the bridge.
“Don’t you find it interesting, Kyudai? How little it takes for Hero Society to show its true colors? All I had to do was create some chaos to make sure there were no patrols around, and look!” He shook his head, bemused.
“All that preaching, and for what? Human beings really are all the same, selfish and self-serving.”
All for One turned to his friend, widening his arms as if he was monologuing to an audience.
“Why take the kid in? Why waste my time doing the job myself, when it takes so little for this world’s cruelty to show? If these masses are capable of abandoning a wounded, barefoot child to fend for himself, what will they do to a walking weapon? A murderer by nature?
I might not need his body anymore, but I can still put Shimura’s heritage to good use.
Let her blood pay the price of hero society’s hypocrisy.”
As his master spoke, Garaki’s lips had been gradually growing a cruel smirk of their own. “Ah, I see. Your vindictiveness never stops surprising me.”
All for One laughed.
“And it never will. What do you say, has he had enough? If I want to go through with this I’d better call the police soon, or young Tenko Shimura will die from dehydration.”
He pulled out a burner phone, so small for his huge, well manicured hand, and dialed the number.
“Too bad about Decay though. I spent a lot of resources cultivating that Quirk. I had to consummate all of Chisaki’s blood samples to figure out how to isolate the destruction part of Overhaul.”
“Ah! Worry not, my friend. Maybe destiny will have us cross paths with him again, and depending on how it plays out, you might even get your precious creation back.”
The emergency number finally answered. Before stating his emergency, he cleared his throat, and the voice that came out was suddenly not his own, but that of an old lady. It was rather disturbing to watch.
“Hello? Yes, I need to report the sighting of a lost child. He’s…”
As the man who just destroyed his life proceeded to save it, Tenko Shimura felt his eyes grow heavy with sleepiness. He had sat down next to a garbage bin under the bridge, uncaring of its dirtiness.
The air was damp, making his irritated skin flare like fire. He was so thirsty, to the point he couldn’t feel the hunger, and his legs hurt so much. The wound on his lips was still pulsating.
The blood on his hands was sticky.
Soon he fell asleep, too exhausted for his battered body or the memory of everything he knew and loved being destroyed by his own hands to keep him up.
He was unaware of the fact that he’d wake up to a doctor tending to him, kindly holding his hand, the man’s arm disintegrating as soon as he regained consciousness.
He was unaware that he’d be covering his eyes and ears as nurses and doctors rushed in his room, proceeding to amputate the limb before Decay could eat the screaming man’s whole body.
Unaware that the first words he’ll manage to whisper after the death of his family, when questioned by the police days later, will be: “I-I… I was itching so much… I’m-m sorry, I just wanted it to stop…”.
Unaware that these words would be his ruin, condemning him to years of Quirk counseling for violent behavior, caused by the nature of his weird Quirk.
Unaware that anyone who heard his story in the hospital thought that it was really best that nobody tried to touch him or help while he was on the street, or he might have ended up killing somebody else.
Unaware, he fell asleep.