Chapter Text
What is power? Dictionaries may call it the ability to control people and events, but in practice, it is far broader than that. It can mean strength, influence, authority, or simply the capacity to shape the world around you. Throughout history, humanity has been both blessed and burdened by it. Sometimes, to gain power in one form is to be humbled in another.
In one world, humanity develops abilities drawn from fiction and myth, where power rests in the body and in the hands of heroes and villains. In another, human progress reaches the stars, granting tools once thought to belong only to science fiction, where power comes from technology, wealth, and knowledge.
For either world to exist, one must understand that power takes many forms. Its shape matters less than how it is pursued, maintained, and used, and how the world chooses to accept it. In one world, quirks reshape society; in another, science and discovery do the same. In one, people use gifts of nature for selfish ends. In the other, human invention is turned against itself.
The names change, and the people with them, but the cycle remains. Power does not change human nature; it reveals it. For some, it removes limitations and consequences. For others, it exposes what they have always wanted to do. To call it simply good or evil is too easy, too shallow.
The only question is this: if you were given power, how far would you go to get what you want? To protect what you love? To destroy what you hate?
It was a fair summer day over Musutafu, one of many cities in Japan, and not one that stood out for anything in particular. It was safe, largely clean, the sort of place where a family could live in relative peace. That was why so many people chose it over the larger cities and their better-paying jobs.
“Hurry, Mom. We’re going to be late!” a young boy called out to his mother.
The older woman sighed, though she could not have stopped smiling if she had tried. “Izuku, we’re already early. They won’t vanish if we take our time.”
At a glance, the two were plainly related. The thirteen-year-old was the spitting image of his mother: the same slightly tanned skin, the same large, round, friendly green eyes, and, after a single conversation, many of the same odd habits.
The only real difference, aside from the fact that his mother was plumper and he was a skinny little thing, was their hair. Both had healthy green locks, though hers was a darker shade.
She could not help but smile as her son tugged her along. Even so, his excitement never turned rough or impatient. The day itself was lovely, with the scent of last night’s rain still hanging in the air and clouds softening the worst of the sun. It was the kind of weather that made people want to go out and do something.
Maybe, if she were ten years younger, she would have been among them. As it was, she would have preferred to stay indoors with the windows open, a cup of tea in hand and a good book in her lap. But for her son, she could make an exception.
More than that, she could not refuse him when he had asked for this several days ago, not with that excited smile of his and the way he had seemed unable to sit still. He had always been energetic about this sort of thing.
It was one of the few things that seemed to bring her child any real joy, even with how busy she was managing a house with her husband all but out of the picture. And her son had been struggling ever since he started middle school.
“Oh, hey, Mom,” he would say, though his smile always carried a trace of worry.
“I’ll be off for school, Mom,” he would say goodbye, though his smile always looked strained.
“Things were good. We got our tests back. I got 84%,” he would report one day, though his smile looked tired.
“Oh, I’m going out with Kacchan,” he would say when she asked what he was doing on a weekend, though even then his smile seemed guilty.
He smiled often. He smiled a lot like his hero, that All Might fellow. But she had noticed that his smiles were many things, and none of them were as carefree, as open, or as unashamed as they once had been.
She knew he was only trying to spare her feelings, but that made it hurt all the more. She had long suspected he was not having an easy time at school. As the only child around who did not have a quirk, he was either left out of games or came home so roughed up from what he insisted was only “playing” that she found it difficult to believe.
As if there were any clearer sign of bullying. Yet no matter how she approached it, or how often she spoke with his teachers, the answer was always the same: no bullying, only roughhousing, boys being boys, over and over again.
He claimed to have friends, but she had never seen them. He could not even come up with convincing lies about them. He would mention Kacchan, but she had not seen him invite Katsuki over since they were four. And when she spoke with Mitsuki, she confirmed that Izuku was not going over there either.
Both mothers knew their sons had simply drifted apart, but neither boy ever spoke about it, and it did not seem fair to force the issue, so they let it lie.
All of which was to say that when he asked if she could take him to some big pro hero convention over the summer, she was more than ready to agree.
Such thoughts remained unseen by Izuku. He could set aside the pain of having no friends, the shame that came whenever someone who knew him spoke of his dreams as though they were a fantasy, and the sting that came whenever Kacchan looked at him and let it show, if not instigated it himself.
All of it was banished from his mind because today… today was going to be a good day. It was his thirteenth birthday, a day he usually spent with his mom over a delicious dinner and cake. Still, it felt as though the universe was throwing him a bone.
Why? Because there was a major pro hero convention, one that was usually held in August but had been moved up this year, and thanks to help from U.A., it would be jointly hosted by the top hero school outside Tokyo, right in their backyard. How cool was that?
“We need to get there really early, Mom! This year they’re going to have panels and booths for U.A. courses, even the hero course, with real students there. I can ask about the entrance exams!”
Izuku was as happy as a puppy, missing how his mother’s smile twitched at the reminder that he still dreamed of attending U.A.’s hero course.
“That seems a little early to be worrying about, doesn’t it?” She tried to stay upbeat. She had promised herself she would not say or do anything to upset him, not on his special day.
“No way. I need all the time I can get if I want to make sure I get in too. They just removed the rule barring quirkless students.”
Izuku had thought about it carefully and reached a conclusion: he wasn’t doing nearly enough. Kacchan was many things, but lazy or stagnant was not one of them. For all his faults, all his anger and cruelty, he was perhaps the hardest-working person Izuku knew. Kacchan did not believe in failure or defeat, and he always fought to be the best at everything he did. Even without his quirk, he was top of the class in PE, just as he was in academics.
Izuku could study until his brain gave out, if that was even possible. Still, if he neglected physical training, he would never make it into U.A., much less become a hero. So who better to ask what he should focus on than students who had already gotten in?
“And on top of that, they’ll have booths for pros like Hawks, Edgeshot, Mirko, Best Jeanist, and a lot more. There are even rumors that All Might will make an appearance!” he chirped as he adjusted his backpack.
It was a clunky, oversized thing, but necessary. He had packed it with no school supplies at all, only the pro merchandise he felt comfortable bringing out of the apartment. If he could get each of them to sign just one item, he would make his day. Better yet, if he could get them all signed, then as All Might would say, he could truly call it the best birthday ever.
All Might used to do events like this all the time. Lately, though, he had been focusing more on hero work. Mirko was even more of a surprise. Izuku had no idea what had been said to convince her, but this would be the first meet-and-greet she had attended. It could very well be the last, and he would be damned if he missed it.
And maybe… maybe he could ask a real hero his question. Ask whether they thought he could become a pro like them, even though he lacked something eighty percent of modern humanity had: a quirk. He might not have amazing powers like they did, but he still wanted to save people. He had wanted that for as long as he could remember, ever since he watched All Might save over a hundred people with a smile on his face.
His classmates, teachers, and even Mom did not think it was possible, but he hoped the pros would. The people who truly understood what a hero meant. For his thirteenth birthday, he wanted nothing more than to ask his hero, the Symbol of Peace, whether he could be like him even without a quirk. Whether he could bring hope and smiles just like All Might did for him, and for so many others around the world.
He could say he was not sure. There had never been a quirkless pro, at least not officially. Izuku could not help that dark thought, but he shook his head. He had long since researched it, and aside from the first generation of vigilantes, who had included plenty of quirkless people, there had not been a quirkless pro since.
It does not mean they cannot, he countered. U.A. was one of the few schools that had changed its rules to allow quirkless students. Izuku could very well be part of that new generation, even if most of them were middle-aged. And if he did not achieve it, he at least wanted to give it one hundred and ten percent of what he had. If he gave it his best and still failed, it would hurt, but at least he would know he had tried. Before he made that attempt, though, he needed to ask, to learn, to prepare.
“Well, you shouldn’t let yourself get too worked up,” Inko reminded him. At times like these, she half expected he had some sort of high-speed movement quirk, or something that made him think three times faster than everyone else.
Izuku gasped and quickly covered his mouth. “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize for being yourself, Izuku. I need you to know that.” Inko gently lowered his hands. She was not the most confident person in the world, but when it came to her son’s right to be himself, she would fight All Might on that. “Just speak clearly so those heroes can see how amazing my little man is.”
“Mom, I’m not a kid anymore.” Izuku tried to squirm away, though not very hard, as she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
“You could be thirty, and you’d still be my little man, even when you finally find a girl with some sense and make me a grandmother.”
She laughed as his smile turned into a shocked look of embarrassment, made worse by the way the other adults around them giggled at his misfortune.
“Mom!”
“I’m kidding, mostly.” Another mother in the crowd laughed as her daughter’s face matched Izuku’s in redness. Fortunately for both of them, neither mother made any further comment. “So, what’s the plan for the autographs? I know you want everything signed, but you should be considerate. There’ll be others in line.”
Izuku worked to steady his embarrassment and managed it. “I was thinking of asking them to sign just the most important things. Does that sound okay?”
“How about the things that matter most to you? That’ll make them even more special, right?” Inko suggested.
“That’s genius, Mom. Thanks!” Izuku’s mood could not have risen any higher.
“Then afterward, we can have a nice picnic like we used to.”
He had to revise that assumption when his mother revealed that the bag she was carrying was really hiding picnic supplies, since they could simply have their usual birthday meal later. Still, it was a beautiful day, and it would have been a shame not to make use of it.
“Best birthday ever!”
His excitement proved infectious as they headed through town and boarded a train that would take them most of the way to the convention center.
Twenty minutes into the train ride, Izuku was still practically vibrating in his seat, while his mother only smiled and shook her head. At least he had not been mischievous when he was younger, because goodness knew she would never have been able to keep up with him.
Maybe she should take Mitsuki up on that offer to join her volleyball matches.
“Excitable one, isn’t he?” a voice said from beside her.
Inko turned and found a young woman beside her, or at least someone who looked young enough to be one. She had one of the most striking pairs of crimson eyes Inko had ever seen. Even more eye-catching, though, was the raven-like head she wore, with glossy light-purple feathers that only made her look more put together. It was enough to remind Inko a little of Mitsuki, in the sense that the woman clearly took good care of herself.
Inko realized she had been staring and quickly apologized, but the woman waved it off. “It is quite all right. When you have a unique appearance, you tend to get looked at.”
“Even so, it was rude of me,” Inko said with a bow. She was certainly more polite than this.
The avian-headed woman seemed to consider that, then smirked as she leaned back in her seat, carrying herself with an easy elegance that somehow suited the train perfectly. “Perhaps. But you seemed more intrigued than offended, so I will take it as a compliment.”
Her smirk deepened as she glanced over Inko’s shoulder. “Besides, I can see your curious nature passed on.”
Inko followed her gaze and turned to look at Izuku, who had unknowingly matched his mother’s earlier stare. This time, though, his attention was fixed on a large old man in the next seat. He had greying green hair, a similar shade to hers if she was honest, or at least similar to what it used to be, but that was not what stood out most. It was his toad-like appearance: the broad, flattened head, the oversized hands and feet, the comically large shoes, and the brown-and-green frog-like skin that had gone a little flabby with age.
Just like his mother, Izuku looked completely awestruck. No doubt, he would have already had his notebook out if he had brought it with him.
“Izuku…” she sighed, because unlike her, he had not quite caught himself in time to realize how rude he had been.
The old man did not seem to mind the boy’s staring, even if it was difficult to tell; his expression was fairly flat. “Oh, he reminds me of my granddaughter,” he croaked with a chuckle, which only made Izuku more interested.
“Sir, does your quirk have anything to do with why you’re so muscular? I heard that even people who keep in shape and eat well lose a lot of physical strength after sixty, but you seem to be an exception.”
Izuku had left his notebook at home, but he had his phone, and his notes app was already open so he could record everything later.
“Well, the missus certainly doesn’t seem to mind,” the old man joked. Inko’s cheeks flushed, while the purple-feathered woman’s brows rose.
For Izuku, the comment went completely over his head. He only looked a little confused as he replied, “I mean, I guess. It means you can do more around the house.”
The old man chuckled again. Izuku had either passed some unspoken test, or he was simply polite enough not to comment. Either way, the elder seemed to like him.
“Yup, just like my granddaughter. As for your questions, you’re quite bold to ask them so directly.”
And there it was, the realization hitting him harder than one of All Might’s signature smashes. Izuku shrank back like a turtle retreating into its shell. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”
“You should work on that,” the old man said plainly. “But in this case, I don’t mind. When you get to my age, passing on knowledge is a good use of your time.”
He did not wait for Izuku to respond before continuing, gesturing toward his bulk. Despite being a senior citizen, he was still well over 1.9 meters tall and weighed almost 100 kilograms. As his little Tsu once put it, he was one chonky old frog.
“I wouldn’t say I’m in especially good shape. My quirk just made me this way, so I’ve always been something of a bullfrog. That’s probably why I took it as my quirk name.” He shrugged, as if some might think that private, though he clearly did not.
More than anything, the quirk talk pulled Izuku right back in. His hands flew over his phone as he frantically typed up notes about the man, already regretting not downloading a drawing app so he could sketch him later. Still, no matter. He would do it from memory.
It could be treated as training, since plenty of pros would need to give a description of villains in those rare cases when they escaped. Or it could simply be seen as saving lives, which mattered more than making an arrest.
“So can you do all the things a bullfrog can do?” Izuku asked. Animal-based quirks tended to come in pieces, a single trait, a limb, an appendage, or sometimes the whole animal.
“Just about,” the old man replied. “I can rotate my eyes independently, and I’ve got an iron gut, which means I’ve never been a picky eater. It also means my sense of taste is somewhat dulled. And, as you can tell, I’m pretty big. Back in my prime, I could jump about seven times my height. Now, if I try for anything more than twice my height, I’ll end up in the hospital.”
To prove the point, one of the old man’s eyes stayed on Izuku while the other turned toward the passing cityscape. Both remained sharp enough to keep track of the two of them, and the old man noticed the diamond-pattern freckles on the boy’s face.
He was also very skinny. If the missus ever saw him, she would probably feed him until he was stuffed, because no growing boy ought to look that slight in her book. As his daughter liked to joke, that probably explained why their household was always so well fed.
Another memory surfaced as the old man snapped his fingers. “Oh, and I can do something called estivation.”
Izuku paused, thinking over the word while his mother and the other woman wondered what it might mean. Then recognition lit up in his eyes. “I think we learned that in biology. It is like hibernation, right?”
The train tracks rattled softly beneath them, the ride smooth, and the nearly empty carriage made it easy to talk. “Smart kid. It’s like that,” the old man said. “Only I can choose how long it lasts. Could be up to ten months if I do not dry out. Scared my parents the first time I did it by accident.”
The old man chuckled at the memory. Back then, he had been terrified; he thought he was dead when he realized he was not waking up for school. When he finally did wake up, he was in one of the few sensible hospitals around, being told he had spent a week in a self-imposed coma.
It was one trait he was glad his daughter had not inherited.
“Can you shoot your tongue out? What about sticking to walls?” Izuku kept asking, his thumbs flying over his phone at an impressive speed. The old man guessed that was probably some minor speed quirk at work.
“Yes and no. I am far too big for that, and bullfrogs are not built for it either. I do handle heat better than most frogs, though, which only makes the cold that much worse for me.” He mentioned that he hated winter and, when he could, would head down to Okinawa for it. It was something of a family tradition.
The questions kept coming, and not just from Izuku. His mother and the woman beside her chimed in now and then, and before long the conversation turned into a discussion of heteromorph quirks and how they affected daily life. Certain clothes were hard to wear, some fabrics irritated his skin, and both diet and posture were different from what most people would expect.
Through all of it, he never once detected malice, disgust, or fear in the boy. Izuku was simply in awe, endlessly curious, and delighted by every new detail, even the inconvenient ones. The old man and the boy talked at length as the train moved on. It made a few stops along the way, people got on and off, and the carriage slowly filled up, but everyone seemed content to let the conversation continue.
At last, Izuku typed in the final note, saved it, and even sent a backup to his online account in case something happened. “Thank you, sir.”
“It is Asui Fukasaku, and it is fine,” the old man said. “Like I said, people my age enjoy passing on what they know to you youngsters. It is nice to find someone so interested in frog facts.”
The old man let out an amused grumble. It was good to see that this new generation was far more tolerant than the one he had grown up with. He hoped his grandkids had friends and classmates like this fine young man.
“You said you have a granddaughter?” the avian-headed woman asked.
“Two of them, and a grandson. I had just the one daughter, but she went and had three tadpoles of her own. The eldest should be about… what’s your name again?”
Asui realized he had spent twenty minutes talking with them and still had not asked their names.
“Midoriya Izuku,” Izuku said, followed by his mother, Inko, and lastly the apparently not-so-young woman, Tokoyami Airi.
With that done, the conversation could continue. “Right. She is around Midoriya’s age, but she is usually too busy with schoolwork and helping around the house to act like a child should.”
“Comes with being the eldest,” Tokoyami said with a smile. “You often end up as the unsung parent.”
Asui shook his head and let out a stubborn croak. “Well, she needs time to be a kid. That is why I am glad I talked them into coming here for this. I will meet them at the convention center and watch them for the day.”
Inko asked about that, and he explained that his daughter and son-in-law had agreed to let the kids spend some time with their grandfather. After that, he would take them back to his place so their grandmother could see them too. They planned for it to last about three days, giving his daughter a chance to relax while his grandkids got to have some summer fun here in Musutafu.
Inko thought it was a lovely idea, though it was also a little bittersweet. She had no parents of her own, and Hisashi’s parents… the less said about those bigots, the better. She was glad they wanted nothing to do with her or her wonderful son.
“You are referring to this hero convention?” Tokoyami asked. When both the Midoriyas and Asui nodded, she smiled in amusement. “What a small world. I am going there to pick up a few things for my son. He is not the sort to admit it, but I think he will appreciate having something from it.”
Izuku politely asked, and learned that her son, Fumikage, was about his age and shared many of his mother’s traits, at least in appearance. Tokoyami also mentioned that she worked as a curator at a local history museum.
As she spoke, she muttered something under her breath that Inko only barely caught. “It will certainly be better than all that edgelord nonsense he has, I swear. Kano-kun spoils that boy.”
Inko pretended she had not heard a word.
“Anyone in particular? I heard Fat Gum and Ryukyu will be there. They are good role models for children, if you ask me,” Asui commented.
“Anyone whose heart is in the right place would do, except Hawks. That boy is far too flippant,” Tokoyami said, rolling her eyes at the Wing Hero and ignoring the way a group of girls in their twenties turned to stare at her like she had just committed blasphemy.
“Finally, someone who agrees,” Asui said, sounding much the same. “I am just glad my daughter had the sense not to be into that sort of thing when she was younger. Have you seen how Hawks handles interviews? Far too unserious.”
“Is he really that bad?” Inko asked, now thoroughly out of the loop.
“Yes.”
The two of them answered at once before continuing their discussion about the kinds of heroes they wanted their children to look up to, which left Izuku feeling like the sore thumb in the room.
Some of the younger people around them looked at him with pity, but not one of them stepped in to help, and for once, Izuku understood why.
‘Oh no, I want to say something, but’… One glance at either parent made that feel like a terrible idea. Tokoyami looked like the kind of mother who would ground him and somehow make it stick, while Asui had that granddad look, the kind that said he would not even need to raise his voice to make you feel like you had done something very stupid.
‘This is one battle I will have to leave alone.’
Eventually, they reached their stop, which was a little nicer than the one near the Midoriyas’ apartment because it lay farther into the city. There was more foot traffic around them even before they stepped into the street.
Their destination was still some way off, but according to the map and Izuku’s memory of the route, they were only about eight blocks from the convention hall, the largest in the city, as an event like this would require. They could have taken a cab, since plenty waited outside the station, but speed no longer seemed quite as important to Izuku as the company did.
Since they were all headed the same way, the group decided to go together. The Midoriyas certainly did not mind, and for Inko it meant having people she could talk to more freely. For Izuku, it meant the chance to meet this “Tsuyu” he had heard about…and been warned not to get any funny ideas about.
The implication that he had any luck with girls, much less the confidence to actually ask one out, left him redder than his high tops.
He would be happy if she were even half as nice as her grandfather had promised, since that would mean he could make a friend… a girl friend, maybe. All right, perhaps he needed a minute to think about what he would actually say without embarrassing himself. First impressions mattered, and he could not afford to say something stupid to her or her siblings.
In the meantime, they talked about other things. To his shock and relief, his quirkless status got little more than a surprised “ah” and “didn’t expect someone so young” from Tokoyami and Asui, respectively. In the end, neither of them seemed to place much value on quirks when it came to judging a person.
“I would be a hypocrite if I held such archaic beliefs while raising my son to value character over anything else,” Tokoyami said, and it was that response that left Midoriya so relieved
Asui’s answer was simpler. “I grew up when about half of people did not have quirks, and I got plenty of grief for my own. I am not about to repeat that madness.”
Moving on to more pleasant topics, Tokoyami was happy to talk about her quirk as they walked away from the station toward the convention hall. It was called Dreary Apparition, and it allowed her to send a bird-shaped apparition into people’s heads, draining their mental energy.
If it lasted only a little while, people would feel down for a few minutes. If it went on longer, or hit harder, she could leave someone depressed, lethargic, and apathetic for hours at a time. It depended on her mood, too; the angrier or gloomier she was, the stronger the apparition became. On the other hand, if her mood was, in her own words, “worrisome,” she lost control.
Inko vetoed Izuku’s request for Tokoyami to use it on him, which the other adults agreed was wise
They found it amusing, and a little refreshing, to see how Izuku reacted to all of it. Neither Asui nor Tokoyami thought about their quirks in quite the same way. To them, they were simply part of who they were. They did not hide them, but neither did they show them off. They were just there.
Izuku did not seem to think so. He was completely enthralled. Tokoyami had dealt with boys like that before, especially teenagers who were only being complimentary because they thought it might get them somewhere. Izuku, however, was one of the rare ones who was simply sincere.
She only wished Fumikage had been with her. He would have liked the boy, and maybe it would have pulled him a little further out of his “revelry in the dark” phase.
“With a mind like that, I would not be opposed to having you as an intern, if history ever becomes an interest of yours,” Tokoyami said.
Izuku’s cheeks colored, but neither he nor his mother corrected her about what his real dreams were. They were kind people, and clearly open-minded, but neither wanted to push their luck.
“Bah, the boy seems to like quirks too much for that,” Asui said, taking a different view.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Tokoyami asked. She barely changed her expression, but both Midoriyas could tell she was not amused at being challenged.
Asui noticed it too, but did not back down. “Quirks have not been around nearly long enough for him to devote himself to history. Add in his hero obsession…
“I would not call it an obsession…” Izuku muttered, though his mother’s smile made it clear that arguing would get him nowhere.
Asui carried on as though he had not spoken. “And he is clearly the sort who will make it big in quirk studies, or maybe support. I know I will feel better knowing my tadpole has someone like him handling her costume and gadget work.”
Izuku did his best not to think about the implications of working with someone else’s costume… a girl’s, no doubt. Sadly for him, his reaction did not go unnoticed. By this point, though, both Asui and Tokoyami found it more amusing than anything else, since it was painfully obvious he was neither the sort they needed to worry about nor woefully inexperienced with girls, as so many boys his age were.
Asui felt he could warn Izuku about his granddaughter and how blunt she could be…but he figured it would do the future quirk researcher, or support engineer, some good to go in blind.
Also because he thought it would be funny.
“You make a good point,” Tokoyami said after a moment’s thought. Quirks had only been around for maybe a hundred and twenty years at best, and so much had been lost in the chaos of that first generation.
Sighing, she decided to let it go, but before any of that could continue, she turned to Inko. “I trust you are making sure he focuses on his studies, Mrs. Midoriya?”
Inko seemed to glow with pride. “Of course. He is a diligent boy, and I rarely need to remind him to do his homework or study.”
“Good. But studying means little if he does not take the time to properly understand the material. Izuku, please do that, and I know you will go far in life.” Tokoyami’s warning came with a smile so warm it was almost maternal.
Izuku nodded, his face still red, though now it was from having so much praise aimed at him. Was this what other people took for granted? If he got this kind of encouragement once a month from anyone besides his mother, he thought he would be over the moon.
“So, are we any closer? I would have thought we would be seeing more signs of it by now,” Asui asked, since the area seemed perfectly ordinary, nothing like what he would have expected for such a major event. For now, he would have to wait until they reached it before spotting his family.
“I believe so, though I have not been to this part of town often,” Inko replied. She did not work in this area, and there was nothing here important enough to draw her to it otherwise. In some ways, she was as new to it as the rest of them.
“No, this district is quite normal,” Tokoyami said. She, on the other hand, knew the area well, since it had a clothing store she trusted. Unlike her son, she had feathers beneath her clothing as well, and needed special garments so nothing would press against or damage her plumage.
Without warning, an explosion rocked the street. The crowd froze in confusion, but the moment passed as everyone realized what had happened. Smoke rose into the air, followed by a second blast that sent what looked like a motorcycle crashing into the side of an office building.
“What the devil is this?!” Tokoyami asked, her feathers puffing up in alarm.
“It’s a villain attack!” someone shouted.
“Run!”
Izuku heard the cry, as did everyone else, but many people still did not move. For him, it made sense. Villain attacks happened often enough that most of the time they were contained or handled by pros without much trouble. With so many heroes in town, plenty of people probably assumed they were about to witness a show and stayed put.
“Villains?!” Inko looked ready to grab her son and bolt back the way they had come.
Now? Here? At a time like this? Who would try something with so many top pros in town? Izuku wondered. It seemed like a terrible idea, unless the villains were desperate. Or had a plan. He doubted it would work, but they probably believed it would.
“Another one? (Kero).” The old frog sighed. “It is a shame. So many youths with nothing better to do than stir up trouble. Well, let’s keep moving. We do not need to get involved. We can take another route to the convention center.”
The old man wanted to leave this to the professionals, and Izuku agreed with him. It made no sense to head toward danger, especially when he had no quirk to defend himself if things went wrong. He could always look up clips later if he wanted.
But curiosity sparked in him anyway. He could still see it all from here, right? Besides, the pros would keep things under control, so what was the harm
What he could not know, not yet, was that today would prove him wrong.
“Look out!” someone cried, and they all ducked as a beam of something passed overhead
“(Kero)” Asui groaned, finding it difficult to crouch the way he once could because of his size and age. Midoriya quickly moved to help him, and by then it was beginning to dawn on the civilians that this was not going to end the way they had hoped. They turned and fled en masse as whatever was happening spiraled further out of control.
“Are you okay?” Izuku asked. The old man nodded, and the group began backing away from the fight. It was too chaotic, with too many bodies for Izuku to see who was handling things. Still, he thought he heard someone yelling about Death Arms, a local pro, though he could not tell whether they were announcing that he was already there or on his way.
What Izuku focused on more was the crowd around them, which quickly pulled him away from his mother. Inko immediately tried to reach for him through the chaos.
“Izuku!”
“Mom!”
It did not matter. The mass of people made it impossible to get back to her, not when Izuku needed to make sure Asui was not injured. Asui might have been able to jump to safety if he were younger, but he did not have the space for his limited hops now, and Izuku doubted he could carry him and do it anyway.
Things only grew worse as the villains fought more desperately. Attacks and their effects flew everywhere; people ducked and weaved, rushed harder, and made it even more difficult to move through the crowd.
“(Kero) We can take the alley!” Asui yelled. He grabbed Izuku and, paying for it already, took off in a single bound, vaulting over the heads of the crowd and landing in an alley. Landing was too generous a word, though, because he nearly buckled to his knees if not for Izuku’s support
“Grandpa Asui!” Izuku cried as the old man hissed in pain. Asui’s legs, which had seemed powerful and muscular before, were more like glass cannons than Izuku had realized.
Asui nodded, biting through the pain. “I’m fine… I’m fine. Legs are not what they used to be, that is all. But we are out of the worst of it.”
“But we have another issue now…” Midoriya muttered. Still, he did not argue and looked around the alley. Years of running from bullies had made him unusually good at finding places to escape through, or in this case, places to get away from danger.
The alley was dirty, dark, and cluttered with debris, from old trash cans to dumpsters. The smell made it clear to both the elder and the youth that there had been food waste left to rot there for far too long. But beggars could not be choosers, not when both of them were trying to get out of this alive and return to their families.
As they moved through it, they had to stay cautious every step of the way, because the fighting seemed to be getting worse, which made no sense to either of them.
“Top heroes, my ass. Where are they? Do they not know about this?”
Izuku quickly pulled out his phone and checked the news. His usual sources had plenty to say, and none of it was good. “It is not just here. There are at least three other incidents right now.” This should not have been happening. It never happened. Not here.
Worse still, none of the biggest names were handling this one. They were all occupied elsewhere. Mirko, the closest pro, had already been sent to another site. Would she get here in time? He hoped so.
“Of course it is…” Asui grunted. His legs were losing strength, and he had to lean more heavily on Midoriya as they moved deeper through the alley, away from the fighting. Even so, the chaos seemed to be spreading faster than they could move.
“Take this, hero!” someone shouted, probably a villain.
Then the six-story building beside them began to shake. Cracks spread across it as concrete, brick, and steel groaned under the strain.
“Just what the hell is he—” Asui began, but Midoriya was already moving. He grabbed the old man and pushed forward with everything he had.
“Move, keep moving!” he screamed, his lungs already burning from the dust and whatever else he was breathing in. Asui was large, and he was not fast, but Izuku could not—would not—leave him to die. So he kept pushing, kept forcing him onward, even as the building behind them began to buckle, its walls and supports snapping apart
It felt like the end. He almost offered a silent apology to his mother. But at last, they burst out of the alley just as the building collapsed, and tons of debris flooded the space they had just escaped.
But they were still in danger.
"We got civilians!"
Izuku's gaze swept the battlefield. The street had become a warzone—villains swarmed the area while Death Arms stood alone, clearly overwhelmed. Behind him huddled a group of terrified bystanders
He couldn't reach them. The villains knew it, too. Arms, orbs, and in one case, a tail aimed straight at Asui and Midoriya. Their attackers' eyes were bloodshot, tongues lolled, one villain blackened from head to toe. They weren't villains with a purpose—they were animals set loose to rampage.
Panic seized him as quirks charged, some ready to fire. Where to turn? What to do?
His eyes darted to Asui, kneeling in pain, exhausted from their desperate escape. No escape left. No strength to jump to safety.
The attacks launched. Death Arms cried out.
Midoriya's body moved on instinct, throwing himself onto Asui, knocking him to the ground. He couldn't see what came next, but he caught the terror dawning in Asui's eyes—realization a moment too late.
No All Might smile to offer reassurance. Just agony as the impact struck his back, pain searing through every nerve, down to his fingertips.
Then nothing. An explosion of matter and space-altering effects, and he was gone—erased without a trace.