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Eight years after the war
The automatic door opened, and Bakugo walked down the silent corridor to the meeting room, where only a couple of lights remained on. The tech support headquarters had closed hours ago, and the echo of his footsteps revealed that almost no one was still working at that hour. Apparently, Hatsume had finally decided to go and rest.
All Might stood by the central table, checking the final adjustments to the suit stored in its container. He had landed from the United States just an hour earlier without telling anyone, going straight to the current building to deliver the crucial briefcase they had worked on for years and to meet with the young man before him before the big moment. Over the years, his figure had become even thinner; the physical toll was evident in the stiffness of his shoulders and the deep wrinkles that marked his face. But what never changed was the serenity with which he greeted his students: that gentle, understanding gaze that survived even when his power was gone.
Bakugo walked through the door and stopped in front of him.
—So... is it ready?
All Might looked up and placed the suit's paperwork on the table. A calm smile spread across his face.
—Yes. All the final calibrations are complete.— He gently ran his hand over the surface of the briefcase with a slight smile—It will function exactly as planned from the beginning.
They both knew it; they had worked together on that design for years.
Bakugo clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, not out of annoyance, but because he somehow needed to hide the excitement growing inside, which he clearly would never admit.
—As long as it can withstand whatever it has to withstand, without suffering any harm.
All Might's smile softened slightly.
—Class 1-A contributed so much, even those who were no longer heroes wanted to participate. But you… —He looked at him with a slight gesture of gratitude —You were the one who practically shouldered the entire investment and design. Without you, this would have taken many more years.
Bakugo looked away, tense.
—That doesn’t matter. —His voice softened slightly —I’m not going to let him return with something imperfect and without proper protection — He paused and took a deep breath.
—…He’s going to come back.
All Might watched him for a long moment without analyzing him, because he recognized the emotional truth behind every word.
—He will, — he said with serene conviction, placing a hand on his shoulder—Because you’re calling him back too —
Bakugo shrank slightly, looking away with a restrained gesture.
—It’s not that. —He put a hand to the back of his neck—I just want everything to be up to standard when he decides to return
All Might didn't argue; over the years, he had learned to read what the young man never said.
—Do you want to give it to him?
The younger man froze. The words seemed to have stopped his breath, his hands clenched into fists. He took another deep breath.
—...No
All Might frowned gently.
—No?
He looked up, and the hardness of his expression was enough to reveal a vulnerable side.
—He needs you right now. Not me. —He swallowed, uncomfortable with the honesty. —If I'm the one to give it to him, he'll think I'm pressuring him. That he has to come back because I... because I want him around.
The silence that followed was tense, but not cutting. Bakugo forced himself to continue, his voice low.
—I just... I don't want him to misunderstand my intentions. We're a good team, yes, but... I don't want him to carry anything else because of me.
All Might inhaled slowly, as if those words had pierced his chest.
—You're afraid he'll see it as an emotional obligation.
Bakugo lowered his head.
—He's already had enough to deal with because of me. I'm not going to add to it.
All Might leaned back against the table, needing a second to contain the emotion that surged through him. Seeing this boy, the same one who used to roar at the world, now weighing every word so as not to hurt... it was too stark a contrast.
—You're much more considerate than you think.
—Don't start —he growled, his voice weak.
Between them, the metal briefcase rested on the table with a soft sheen. It was more than just metal and circuits: it was a point of transition.
All Might gestured to it with a slight nod.
—If you want me to be the one to deliver it, so be it. But I know there's another reason.
Bakugo glanced at him for a moment, then looked down at the suit. His voice came out barely a whisper.
—He started this journey with you. Not with me. If he's going to get back on his feet, he needs to receive it from the person who believed in him from the very beginning.
All Might's eyes widened slightly. This kind of sincerity from Bakugo was rare. When it appeared, it always carried weight.
—Young Bakugo…— he said gently— You speak from a heart that cares for him more than it lets on.
Bakugo pressed his lips together.
—Don't overthink it. Just do it. —He took a breath, turning away to hide his embarrassment— I'll do my part so that when he receives it, nothing will stop him this time.
All Might nodded and took the container in both hands as if he were holding something sacred.
—Okey. I'll give it to him, but when I do... it will be thanks to you.—
—It's thanks to his own determination— he corrected.
He turned, determined to leave, but his footsteps no longer sounded the same; they were soft. He could finally relax after eight years of work and effort. It was finally over... or rather, it was all about to begin.
As he watched Bakugo walk away, All Might remembered that time—years ago—when the boy arrived at his door without even saying hello, almost desperate, breathless, demanding alternatives, searching for any way to help young Midoriya become a pro hero again. That moment had revealed more than Bakugo would ever admit, filled with a determination that still moved him. And as he thought about it, he understood that that drive had never faded.
You always knew how to push him forward, young Bakugo… and now you also know when to let him walk on his own.