Toshinori hadn't left his office, hadn't even moved, since Nana and Izuku had left. He just stared quietly out the window, cursing his own stupidity. Why had he told Nana everything? He'd known what it would do to her, and he'd done it anyway. This was his fault. He'd seen the look on Nana's face when Izuku had gently ushered her away; he had the horrible feeling that it had quickly turned into the same look of hopeless devastation she'd worn on that awful day thirty years ago.

And this time, he'd caused it.

Toshinori felt…hollowed out by that. He didn't know what to do, or whether he was feeling grief or anger or helpless resignation. He'd done what he'd done with good intentions…but it had caused even more problems in the end, problems he didn't know how to fix.

That was the story of his life, really.

Toshinori's thoughts turned again, to the other revelations of the day. Nana was… dating his successor. And judging by their actions, it was no short-lived fling or infatuation, either. No, they really, truly loved each other.

Toshinori supposed that he shouldn't be surprised; after all, with the link they shared, the two shared their emotions and thoughts to a degree that he doubted anyone could really understand. It was easy to love someone when you knew them as well as they knew themselves, could see the good and the beautiful in them without even trying. But for all that, Toshinori still felt…well, he guessed shock would be a good description. Maybe conflict, too.

His mind knew that it wasn't his business, that Nana was truly young again, that her husband was dead and that there was nothing stopping her from loving who she wanted. His heart, on the other hand, screamed that that was his mother, unable to let go of who she had been, of what she'd meant to an orphan with no concept of safety or home. The thought of her in a relationship like that was…he couldn't even imagine it. It felt wrong, for some reason he could never explain.

But more than that…there was a part of him, a strange part he'd barely known existed, that screamed something else. It was protective, in a way that Toshinori wasn't familiar with. It made him inclined to be suspicious of his own successor, wary of what might happen if he broke his daughter's heart-

His daughter?

" Ah," Toshinori realized, "that's what this is."

God, he really was a mess. He was at war with himself, logic struggling against old love, struggling against new love. The situation was wound in knots, and his thoughts had gone with it, winding around each other until he could never untangle them.

Guilt coursing through him even as the thought entered his mind, Toshinori wondered just how cruel One For All had to be, to bring Nana back to this, to strip away her memories and leave it up to him, the flawed, useless, helpless man he was, to bring her crashing back to earth as soon as she got her feet underneath her.

Had they misinterpreted the quirk's intentions? Was Nana's faith in its benevolence misplaced, and it had developed a cruel, manipulative streak as it gained sentience? Was it laughing at them now, at their own belief, their faith that things could be good or true or bright?

Had One For All even brought Nana back, or had some other force done it? There were too many questions, and no answers. Toshinori was haunted by them, left unable to free himself from the crushing guilt of his own failure. Some successor he was, bringing the mentor he'd loved so much, the newfound daughter he already loved just the same, so much pain. Every kind word, disproved. Every promise, broken. Every failure, absolute.

There was nothing he could do, now. The damage had been done; Toshinori doubted it could ever heal. There would be no second chances, no opportunities to make this right.

Then, his phone went off. Robotically, Toshinori pulled it out, eyes barely registering the text message.

At least, until he finally processed the words he was reading. As soon as that happened, his eyes shot open, his heart skipping a beat as the situation went from bad to worse.

The text was from Young Bakugo, and it read: "I need your help. Shimura blew up and revealed OFA by accident in front of the entire class, then ran off. Izuku followed her. The class is demanding an explanation, and I don't know what to tell them."

Toshinori cursed softly, but something in his chest felt almost…hopeful at the news of a new problem he might be able to fix. He couldn't take back his words, or heal Nana's shattered heart…but here was a crisis where he could be useful. He didn't know what he was going to do, or what this might mean for the secret he'd carried nearly all his life…but it didn't matter.

He had a purpose, a goal he could reach for, something he could save or fix or make better. That was all a hero like him needed.

Katsuki put his phone down gently, letting a sigh escape his chest as he focused back on the present.

He didn't like calling for help like this, and he didn't like having to text All Might, but…well, aside from the fact that he wasn't going to reveal one of the most important secrets in Japanese history without the approval of the man who actually held it, Katsuki was out of his depth here.

As if to prove his point, Mina called out to him from her position on one of the couches nearby, demanding, "Seriously, Bakugo, you can't just demand that we all sit here and do nothing after what Shimura said!"

Katsuki turned to face her, his red eyes level and cool. "That's exactly what I'm demanding," he growled, "because if I don't, you'll all go running your mouths and making shit up."

"How are we supposed to do that when we don't even know what's going on?" Jirou pointed out, irritation plain on her face. Several others nodded.

Kaminari chimed in, "Yeah, we're all still really confused. What the hell was Shimura talking about, anyway?"

Katsuki ground his teeth and scowled as he fielded a host of questions after that. He couldn't blame his classmates for being confused and worried-buried in Nana's angry rant had been facts that had clearly shaken them. Without concrete ideas of what was going on, they were turning to gossip and speculation. Katsuki could only wince as they brought up theories he'd once believed, only to learn that the truth had been kept from him for a reason-it was stranger than any lie he'd ever heard. After Sero asked aloud if Shimura being related to Shigaraki of all people was evidence of her being a villain, Katsuki had had enough.

Again, Katsuki snarled, "Everyone, shut the fuck up!"

Most people did, though they didn't look happy about it. Yaoyorozu's stare seemed to cut through Katsuki like butter as she coolly demanded, "Look, Bakugo, I agree that trying to keep people from drawing the wrong conclusions is a good thing, but you can't just leave us in the dark like this. Shimura said some things that are really confusing, and really worrying. Can't you tell us something?"

Katsuki hesitated; he really didn't have much to tell them, and what he did have might only make things worse. He'd caused enough trouble for Izuku and Nana; he didn't want to exacerbate the problem by spreading incomplete information. That was what had gotten them all into this mess, after all; a web of half-truths and partial pictures, everyone having a different piece of a puzzle they didn't know the size or depth of.

But on the other hand…despite it all, Katsuki actually considered these extras his friends. He actually fucking respected them, for God's sake. And they were scared, and concerned about the things they'd learned. The war with Shigaraki and the League had left them all a bit more paranoid and suspicious than they'd been, and anything even associated with the man who had destroyed cities for his own twisted pleasure was enough to make them jumpy. If he wanted them to trust him, he didn't have much of a choice.

So Katsuki sighed, clenching his fists, and told them, "Look, I'll tell you what I know, alright? It's far from everything that's going on, but it should be enough to keep you morons from freaking out too much."

That got him a round of nods from the class, and Katsuki took a deep breath.

"A couple weeks ago, I found an old newspaper article in the UA archives," he explained, "about a woman named Nana Shimura. There was a picture of her in her hero costume."\

There were a few odd looks at that, though most people didn't seem to be too bothered by Katsuki's words. Mina tilted her head curiously and asked, "So what? She's All Might's daughter, it wouldn't be that unusual for there to be a news article about her."

Katsuki's voice was soft but steady as he responded, "The article was thirty years old…and it was an obituary."

There was dead silence. The class looked shocked, disbelief written clear as day on their faces, but nobody called him a liar. They could see the truth in his eyes.

Quietly, Yaoyorozu asked, "Are you saying-"

"Somehow, the girl who's been sharing our dorm for the past month or two came back from the dead," Katsuki confirmed. He didn't mention her confession of how she'd returned; that secret wasn't ready to come out yet, and he wouldn't be the one to reveal the existence of One For All. He'd made enough mistakes already.

Of all the confused murmurings and stunned responses to that one, Tsuyu's was the simplest, cutting through the noise to resonate above the rest. "How?" she asked bluntly.

Katsuki hesitated again, wondering what to say. At last, recognizing the eyes on him, he simply replied, "I'm not sure."

Tsuyu's wide, unreadable eyes were just as piercing as Yaoyorozu's as she stared at him. "But you have a theory?" she asked, though her tone made it clear that it was a statement and not a question.

Katsuki tensed, ever so slightly, Was he really that easy to read? He didn't really have much of a choice but to respond to that, unfortunately.

Still, he tried to dodge, saying, "I can't tell you that."

"Why not?" the green-haired frog girl asked. Katsuki didn't answer, not trusting himself to come up with a good enough answer.

That earned him another round of angry glares and discerning looks from the others, save for Kirishima, who looked at him with more respect than Katsuki could ever remember seeing in the redhead's expression. Katsuki couldn't quite understand it, but then, he never could quite understand what Kirishima saw in him that was worthy of respect, so he ignored it.

Then, Jirou interrupted, "Hang on, didn't Shimura say that…what was it again? "One For All?" Yeah, I think that's it. Didn't she say that that brought her back?"

Shit. Katsuki winced, mentally cursing the purple-haired girl and her incredible hearing. Jirou turned to him, and her expression was merciless as she asked, "Am I right, Bakugo?"

Katsuki muttered, "Maybe."

All that did was earn him even more scrutiny. Jirou said, "So you don't have a theory, you know."

Dammit, Katsuki was really fucking bad at this whole lying thing. He decided to stop trying, instead opting for as much honesty as he could give without causing even more problems.

"Yeah, I know what that is," he confirmed, "but I didn't know that it had brought Shimura back until she yelled it at me in front of all of you."

Jirou nodded, as did most of the class. Then, Mina snapped her fingers and asked, "So, here's the million-dollar question: what is One For All?"

The pink girl's lips formed the strange English words in an almost reverential way. Katsuki couldn't blame her, not knowing what he did about it. Something about the power it held, the knowledge that somewhere out there was an unbroken chain of power, of greatness, stretching back to the dawn of the age of heroes itself, made you feel small whenever you considered it. Katsuki had made use of that feeling a few times recently, reminding himself that for all his own success and greatness, Izuku had earned his, and power earned is always wielded better and more truly than power inherited by birth.

But here, Katsuki came up against the limits of his own promises, and his own refusal to reveal a secret that wasn't his to keep. So he repeated, "I can't tell you that."

"Can't, or won't?" Tsuyu asked, earning nods and pointed stares from their classmates. Katsuki had gone from being shouted over to being the center of attention in the space of two minutes, and for the first time, he found that he really didn't like it.

But he couldn't get away from it, or from Tsuyu's too-observant questions. Katsuki fidgeted as he answered, "Won't."

"Well, too fucking bad," came a new voice from the doorway, "because we deserve the truth, whether you want to tell us or not."

Katsuki turned his head to see Ochako standing there, arms crossed over her chest, and glaring at him with danger in her eyes. He winced, even as he knew he deserved it. He'd failed to keep the promise he'd made her, and he'd failed it badly. All he'd done was cause both Nana and Izuku more pain than they'd ever deserved, and he hadn't even gotten his answers, his full answers, to show for it.

But still, Katsuki raised his eyes to meet Ochako's gaze, letting the rest of the room drop away.

"You do," he agreed, much to Ochako's shock judging by the way her eyes suddenly went wide, "but I won't tell you."

Incredulous, Ochako snapped, "What kind of fucking secret is so important that you won't even tell us now? Hell, how long have you known about something that's apparently so important we don't deserve to know it?"

Even though his emotions were in turmoil, not helped by the fact that Uraraka had returned without Nana or Izuku, Katsuki kept his expression even, fighting off his temper to reply, "The kind that isn't mine to tell."

Ochako didn't look satisfied by that, but before she could open her mouth to retort, Mina interrupted, "Hey, Uraraka, did you manage to talk some sense into Midoriya?"
Ochako smiled, with not a drop of humor in sight. "Oh yeah, I sure did," she replied sarcastically, "but Shimura had already flown off, and he decided to follow her. The same way."

Katsuki didn't need to look around the room to see the stunned and confused expressions on the faces of his classmates. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he was doing a good enough job of controlling himself to avoid joining them. Since when could Izuku fly?

Ochako turned back towards Katsuki, and her false-friendly smile was the most ominous portent Katsuki had ever seen.

"So," the brown-haired girl said brightly, "if you could explain to me how my best friend somehow got his resurrected girlfriend's quirk, I would appreciate it."

Katsuki managed to shake himself loose of the confusion that was gripping him after a few moments. He asked, "So…Shimura flew off?"
Ochako looked like she wanted to tear into him even more as she snapped, "Why do you care?"

"Because we both know that Izuku would follow her to hell itself," Katsuki replied, struggling even harder to stay calm, "and I don't want-"

"If you say you don't want him to get hurt," Ochako spat, "I'll call you the liar that you are. You've been hurting him for years, Bakugo. You bullied him, then attacked him when you realized he was getting to be stronger than you, and even now that he's finally found happiness, you're still hurting him."

All around him, Katsuki could hear gasps, and hisses, and the beginnings of angry murmurs he'd been dreading ever since he truly began to consider the people in this room his friends. His past being revealed had been a source of constant fear for him for years, and now, here it was, thrown out without fanfare or ceremony. He could feel the glares on his back already…and that strange look of respect on Kirishima's face seemed to be wavering, in danger of disappearing entirely. That hurt…a lot. The fact that he couldn't blame his redheaded friend in the slightest for it hurt more. And past it all, Ochako's righteous, honest rage poured over him, searing into his soul, reminding him that she knew what he was, that she'd always known, that he'd lost his chance to keep the promise he'd made to her.

But it wasn't in Katsuki's nature to take the ground shattering under his feet lying down. His hold on his temper shattered, and he was on his feet before he knew what was happening, puffs of smoke spilling from between his knuckles, flashes of heat setting off in his clenched fists.

Katsuki could feel that heat in his blood as he met Uraraka eye-to-eye and roared, "I FUCKING KNOW THAT! I know better than you can imagine how much of a monster I was to the kid that only wanted to be my friend. I know that power went to my tiny little brain because I was too stupid to stop a flashy quirk and a little bit of praise from poisoning everything about me. I was a bastard who did nothing but hurt someone who was better than I could ever be, because he was better than I was. But…but I was a kid. A shitty kid, one who didn't deserve the quirk he had, should have never been able to stand here and try to be a hero because I was a bad person, but still a kid."
"And you think that excuses what you did to Deku?" Ochako asked in an unmoved voice as hard as iron, "what you're still doing to him?"

"Never," Katsuki hissed in a voice that cracked again and again, "it never will. As hard as I try to be better, I'll always have to live with what I did. But…but I'm trying to use that, to remind myself why I need to be better. I can't let the shitty kid become a shitty adult…become a shitty hero."

At that, Ochako's face changed, ever so slightly. She still seemed angry, still seemed unmoved…but her eyes softened just a tad.

Katsuki didn't even notice it as he continued, "I gave him that name, you know. Deku. You all treat it like a great hero name, something brave and inspiring…and you're right to. It's what he's made it into. But when I see it, all I can think of is the bright-eyed, heroic kid I called useless. All I can see is the shitty asshole who looked at a quirkless boy and-"

Katsuki caught himself, stopping as soon as the words left his lips. The secret of One For All might be dragging itself into the light piece by bitter piece, but he intended to keep his word, for what little it was worth. Ochako caught the lapse, and she tilted her head in shock and confusion, her lips forming the word quirkless. He couldn't read the look in her eye.

Katsuki felt drained now, like the last of an enormous reservoir of self-hatred was flowing out into the open, exhausting him utterly. But he still had things he needed to say.

Katsuki took two steps towards Ochako, bringing him into the center of the common room; the class watched in stunned silence, background figures in the drama playing out on center stage. Katsuki rasped, "I'm trying, Uraraka. You know I am. I'm really fucking bad at it, but I'm trying. And now…now all I can do is try to hold the shit I broke together. But…but I guess I'm out of time. Time, and second chances."

Katsuki fell quiet, and his eyes wandered across the room. Most of the class wouldn't meet his gaze, and some didn't even bother to hide their expressions of rage or disgust or heartbreak. Good; they shouldn't. He deserved every bit of it. But Kirishima…Kirishima's expression confused Katsuki to his very core.

Because Kirishima's eyes were gleaming with pride. Pride, and admiration, and a little bit of that teary look he got when he saw something particularly "manly." He bared his teeth in a sharp-toothed smile as Katsuki met his eyes, and Katsuki had no idea why.

And then from behind him, he heard Ochako whisper softly, "No, you're not."

Katsuki froze, blinking in confusion. He heard himself ask, "What?"

Ochako looked up again, and the smile on her face was truly bright, with not a dark, foreboding cloud in sight. Her eyes were shining with a strange mix of wry amusement, respect, and grief as she repeated, "You're not out of second chances."

Katsuki thought his legs would fail underneath him. Swallowing heavily to control the enormous upwelling of emotion in his chest, he gasped, "I…I don't deserve any more of those."

Ochako raised her eyebrow as she smirked at him. "You don't," she agreed, "and you're getting one anyway. Deal with it."

She didn't need to say another word; Katsuki was speechless in the face of such simple, assertive truth. What was he supposed to say when someone rejected the very concept of recrimination in favor of giving a damn about other people?

Nothing. But he did know what he needed to do.

With a nod to Ochako that contained more gratitude than he could ever put into words, Katsuki turned back to the others, wetting dry lips to speak.

In a voice as strong as he had ever had, Katsuki finished, "I know it's confusing, guys. Trust me, I'm in the same boat. But I promise, all your questions are going to be answered soon. Someone's on their way right now to explain everything, way better than I could."

Nobody spoke; some people nodded at Katsuki's words, while others refused to even meet his eyes. But that was fine; Katsuki couldn't blame anyone who refused to forgive him. After all, he would never forgive himself.

Then, Ochako asked, "So, when will this person be here?"

Katsuki froze, trying to figure out what a good response would be. He was about to open his mouth to offer some vague assurance, when there was a knock on the door.

Well, talk about good timing. Katsuki couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he replied, "Right now."

At last, All Might strode into the room, his body weak, his eyes mournful, and a cane in his hand, and for a moment, his presence felt just like it always had to Katsuki. A beacon of light, a symbol of hope. A promise that everything would be alright, now that he was here.

A few minutes later, Toshinori sat in the common room with his students around him, surrounded by confused and curious expressions. It felt…oddly like a grandfather telling his grandchildren stories by the fireside, if with a slightly higher percentage of teenage angst and its decidedly more troublesome adult counterpart.

To his right, Young Uraraka asked, "Hang on, so you're the one Bakugo asked for help after Shimura's outburst?"
Toshinori nodded wordlessly, his mind whirring. He'd gotten a basic explanation of what had happened from Young Bakugo, and the guilt was close to crushing him. Nana had broken and done what she did because of what he had told her. This was the consequence of his own actions. Knowing that he'd been responsible for the revelation of arguably the biggest secret any one man had ever held was not a pleasant feeling.

Neither was knowing that both Nana and Izuku had disappeared, with Izuku desperately pursuing his heartbroken girlfriend over the horizon. But Toshinori had to focus on the problems he could fix.

Toshinori was jolted from his thoughts when Young Yaoyorozu asked quietly, "Shimura isn't really your daughter, is she? She came back from the dead."
Deciding that truth would serve best, Toshinori nodded. "Correct," he confirmed, "I apologize for lying, but…well, the old adage that truth is stranger than fiction certainly applies here."

"What do you mean?" the tall, black-haired girl asked.

Toshinori couldn't help but give a tiny, humorless chuckle as he responded, "Well…in truth, she's the closest thing I ever had to a mother. Or was, anyway."

There was a heartbeat of silence, as everyone, even Katsuki, stared at him in shock and confusion. Then, there was shouting.

"Wait, what?" Mina yelled, "no way!"

"How does that even work?" Jirou wondered.

"Man, that must be really weird, calling your mom your daughter," Sero mused.

"Hang on, does that mean that Izuku is going to become his own step-grandfather?" Todoroki asked. Everyone stopped talking for a moment to stare at the two-toned boy in confusion and mild exasperation. Toshinori wasn't really sure what he'd said, but he joined in anyway out of sheer confusion.

Eventually, he coughed, "Um, no, Young Todoroki. It doesn't mean that."

Todoroki looked mildly disappointed as he replied, "I disagree, but fine."

Slightly worried for his sanity if he tried to understand that any longer, Toshinori opted to continue, "Yes, Nana was…well, she was my mentor. I would never have become a hero if not for her."

"Why not?" Young Uraraka asked, "your quirk is…was…so powerful, you must have had heroes lining up to mentor you!"

"Actually," Toshinori said reluctantly, though with a slight feeling of amusement, "before I met Nana, I was quirkless."

Once more, dead silence reigned. There was no shouting, just hollow-eyed shock as the students had their world changed once more.

Then, Young Uraraka's eyes widened, and she said, "Bakugo said something earlier that made me think…was Deku quirkless, too?"
Toshinori nodded. "He was," he confirmed, "before I gave him my quirk, as Nana gave me hers."

In a hushed voice, Young Yaoyorozu asked, "That's what One For All is, isn't it? A transferable quirk."

Toshinori replied, "You're right…but it's so much more than that. It's a sacred torch, carried by generation after generation for two hundred years; it has existed since our society of heroes and quirks-in fact, it helped create that society. It is a beacon of light and hope, giving its wielder the strength to be a wall between the innocent and those who would do them harm. It was created by unfathomable evil, and used for incredible good. And…as we learned recently, it is sentient to some degree. It has will, and intent…and enough power to bring back one of its wielders, who has been dead for thirty years."

In the reverential silence, there were many different expressions on the faces of Toshinori's students. Awe, and surprise, and envy, and relief were there, as were hope and the stunned realization of the burdens that Nana, then Toshinori, and now Izuku bore.

At last, Young Uraraka said slowly, "That sounds like…quite the story. Can you tell it to us?"

Toshinori hesitated, remembering what had happened earlier that day, when he'd last told a story with so much pain and loss. Carefully, he replied, "It is…not a happy story. As strong as One For All is…it has a counterpart; it must. For all the good in the world, there must be evil. And in this case…the shadow this evil has cast is long indeed."

Suddenly, Young Uraraka's expression hardened, her eyes turning from shimmering deep pools to hard, intense pits. In a tone Toshinori had once associated with the heroes of old, who had been tested in fire and come out of it like clay, strong and tempered but with invisible cracks at the edges, she said, "We're used to evil. We can handle a story."

There were nods from her classmates, and Toshinori realized with a jolt that they all wore the same tough, tested look as the brown-haired girl who smiled so readily and loved so deeply.

But of course they did. Toshinori recalled the League, and Shigaraki, and the hell that had been these students' first year of UA. It had been a trial by fire like no other, and though the students were stronger for it, they had been forever changed by it.

That made him realize that he should stop treating these young people as students, and instead see that they were heroes. Strong, capable ones, who had faced down the worst threat to Japan in decades without blinking.

And that realization made Toshinori think. He wondered what this class, bound together by the ties of battle and forever marked and strengthened by their victories, would achieve in five years. Or ten. Or twenty. He was not sitting among a class of students, but among the heroes who would shape Japan for decades, centuries, to come. And he had inspired so many of them, and Izuku had inspired more. Each of them looked up to him as an example of all that a hero should be; in twenty years, millions of children would look up to them, and Toshinori would be the hero of the heroes.

It was humbling, and inspiring, and more than a little terrifying. But it got him to thinking of what could have been, if he'd had something like this; if the Top Ten heroes were not a list of constantly competing rivals with often-strong mutual dislike, but comrades, friends. He wondered what could have been, if Nana hadn't fought All For One alone, but alongside the greatest heroes of the age, moving in perfect sync from long years of practice, laughing and joking and bantering as they brought down the greatest evil of their day.

He wondered, and he knew that the answer was before him, in the faces of the new generation of heroes who were his legacy, his last, greatest gift to the world he had protected all his life.

Twenty pillars would be much, much stronger than one; all he had to do was trust them, trust their strength.

So Toshinori let out a long, deep sigh as he stared upwards, wondering if this was the realization that One For All had been leading him to. And he looked back down again, and met the class eye-to-eye.

And then he began, "Two hundred years ago, at the dawn of the age of quirks, there were two brothers…"

Izuku took to flying far faster than he thought he would. Within minutes, he was moving through the sky like he had been born there, feeling the night wind sing through his hair and play over his clothes like a mischievous lover-a comparison he was more than familiar with.

But then, was it any surprise that flying felt so natural, so right, when he had spent so many days in the sky above UA with Nana, listening to her laugh and tease him, feeling her gentle hands and gentler lips as she taught him what it was like to break gravity's hold?

Izuku fought off another wave of regret and sadness as he thought of Nana. He had failed her, yes, let her slip out of his arms, left her to face her pain alone. But he wouldn't let it happen again. He would find her, he would.

But he didn't know where to go. Nana had moved too fast; she'd been long gone by the time Ochako had gotten him to follow her, and it was dark now. Worst of all, the link wasn't working. Somehow, Nana had shut it, or at least weakened it to the point where he couldn't feel her, or see where she'd gone. He had no chance of finding her…not without help.

So as Izuku flew, he called up One For All, letting green lightning spark and leap across him. He closed his eyes, and he begged, "Please, help me find her. Show me where she's gone. I can't lose her."

Again and again, he asked, pleading with something he still barely believed could hear him. It was all he could think to do.

And when it answered, the shock nearly knocked him out of the sky.

It was subtle at first; a fresh prickle on the skin, a new warmth in his chest, emotions he couldn't recognize. But then, something snapped into place in the back of his head, and he gasped at the unfamiliar sensation of knowing.

The green lightning faded slightly, mixing with purple at the edges, turning yellow and red and blue here and there, though Izuku barely noticed any of it, let alone the pure white electricity that sparked around his eyes and jumped between his fingers. He was too busy making sense of the unmistakable feeling in his chest, the one that told him what he needed to know, the one that brought him home like a glowing path in the sky, shimmering like an aurora.

"We hear," it seemed to whisper, "and we know. You will always have us."

Taking a deep breath, Izuku let the power play over his skin, and followed it.

Izuku flew for hours, twisting and turning with the winds, following the heat in his chest as it laid a path he didn't see, exactly, but knew was there all the same. It led him so far, he stopped trying to guess which cities were laid out like glowing webs beneath him-he had never seen any of them from above, so he couldn't possibly get it right.

At last, Izuku felt himself being led lower, down to a city so heavily covered by fog he couldn't make out how big it was, or the shape of the buildings, or anything else for that matter.

He dipped down, close to the ground, trusting One For All not to lead him facefirst into a bridge or a skyscraper or something. The fog clung to him, filling his breaths with cool water vapor, soaking his face like tears.

He pushed on; he could tell he was close. Nana was here somewhere. He just hoped she was okay.

When he realized where she was, Izuku's blood froze. He saw the green spaces, dotted with granite headstones, and knew that whatever had happened, Nana needed him. He poured on the speed even more, following the tug in his heart to where he needed to be.

At last, he saw a shape in the fog below, a woman sitting against a giant oak tree. His heart sang, and he knew that he'd found Nana.

He set down gently, almost ethereal in the way his feet made no noise as they suddenly gained weight again, the damp grass under his feet greeting his return to the earth. Slowly, softly, he made his way to Nana; she was staring at a grave in front of her, showing no signs that she'd heard him land, or even sensed his presence. If it wasn't for the soft sobs he could hear coming from her, Izuku would have thought she was asleep.

At last, he reached the tree. Izuku didn't immediately run to her, even though he desperately wanted to; instead, he softly asked, "Nana?"

She didn't respond; Izuku wasn't even sure she'd heard. Her soft crying sounded like the dying embers of a sobbing fit, the last few desperate, dry gasps when there were no tears left to shed.

"Nana!" Izuku repeated, louder this time, desperate.

Nana froze in shock, before finally lifting her head to look at him. Red-rimmed eyes were full of surprise and fear as she whispered, "Izuku?"

Without even thinking, Izuku fell to his knees, folding Nana into his arms. She remained unresponsive as Izuku held her tight, burying his face into her neck and whispering, "I love you."

Nana stared at him with hollow eyes until he let her go, pulling back but keeping his arms around her, refusing to let her go. She asked, "H-how did you get here?"

"You taught me to fly, didn't you?" Izuku retorted, a tiny smile cracking his worried face.

Nana shook her head a little; her movements were jerky and hesitant, like she was scared that touching him would make him dissolve into the fog that clung so tightly to them.

"No, no," she said, "how did you know to find me here?"

Izuku explained, "One For All brought me here, to you."
Nana froze. She stared at him in horror, which dissolved suddenly into bitter, angry laughter. Izuku watched, worried, as Nana hissed, "Of course our fucking quirk isn't done with me yet. No, it brings you here just to watch me break! The last good thing in this whole damn world, and it brought you here so I could ruin that, too."

Horrified and confused, Izuku asked, "Nana, what are you saying?"

Nana looked back at him, and he saw the anger in her eyes. It scared him, because he could tell it was directed at herself as much as it was at One For All.

"I'm saying," she said bitterly, "that I followed One For All here, too. And you know what it showed me, when I was looking for something, anything, to help me come to terms with what I did? It showed me that!"

Nana gestured at something behind her, the hate palpable in her voice. Izuku turned to see what she was pointing at, and his eyes went wide as he saw the two graves, their names, and the words written on Nana's grave.

Izuku thought he was going to be sick. He let go of Nana and rolled to sit next to her, slumping in shock as he breathed, "God…"

Nana laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, that's right," she hissed venomously, "the quirk I fucking trusted to be good led me to my own fucking grave. Not to mention the grave of the husband I can't remember."

Nana turned her head, and Izuku watched the anger evaporate instantly, replaced with raw, total vulnerability.

"Do you know what it's like?" she whispered in a voice that wavered and threatened to collapse into sobs at any second, "Do you know what it's like, to look at a grave and know that it should mean something to you, only it doesn't? To know that your grief has been stolen from you, along with all the memories of the person you lost? Do you know what it's like to see your own grave, and know that you were buried here, that you died for nothing, and then you came back, but the person you were buried next to didn't?"

Nana was shaking by the end of it, and Izuku pulled her tight again. She still didn't respond, but she didn't fight it, either. Izuku met her eyes, and the shattered, terrified look in them tore him apart.

Trembling from cold or fear-Izuku couldn't tell-Nana admitted, "I don't even know who I am anymore, Izuku."

Izuku couldn't take it anymore, couldn't stay quiet when Nana was so broken, so pained. Forcefully, love lending him depths of certainty he hadn't known he had, he told her, "But I do."

Nana stared into his eyes, searching for the lie, for the thing that would finally, truly break her. She couldn't find it. "Then tell me," she demanded, pointing back at her own grave as she spoke, "Because I'm not her. I can't be her, because she's under there. I can't be Nana Shimura, because she's dead, and she did things I never thought I was capable of. I gave away my own child, Izuku."

Izuku refused to be cowed. He decided to take things one at a time, determined to piece Nana's heart back together. Quietly, his voice as solid and sure as the truths he spoke, he whispered, "You are Nana Shimura, the girl who came back from the dead. The strongest, most terrifying woman I've ever met, who came into my life and turned it upside down with a smile. The girl who taught me how to fly. The girl I love…and the girl I'm scared is about to break my heart."

Nana stared at him curiously, at the tears welling up in his eyes by the time Izuku was finished. "What, by leaving you?" she snorted, her voice full of heartbreak, "Apparently, I leave everyone, Izuku. Don't take it personally."

Then, as if scared that those words would drive Izuku away, Nana added in a wavering voice, "I…I could never hurt you."

It was then that Izuku understood. Nana still loved him. Nana didn't want to leave him. She was just…scared, and struggling to come to terms with her past, and utterly certain that nobody could possibly want her around once they knew what she'd done.

Gently but firmly, Izuku told her, "You don't understand. Seeing you like this, in pain and afraid, convinced that you're completely alone in the world, that's what's breaking my heart. You aren't alone, Nana. You'll never be alone, as long as I have the power to do something about it."

Nana's body tensed in Izuku's arms, but it was as if she had to force herself to do it. "And how do you know you will be strong enough?" she demanded in a weak, hollow voice, "We're all weak and stupid and cruel in the end."

Izuku swore that whatever had shattered Nana's faith in humanity wouldn't survive another hour. He understood why Nana felt the way she did, though; everything she thought she knew about herself had just come crashing down. She didn't realize that she was the same woman she'd always been, not the one so wracked by grief and fear that she had made an unthinkable choice in a situation where all the choices were unthinkable. He said, "Not you, Nana. And I haven't spent my life aiming to become the strongest man in Japan just for bragging rights. I'll do it; I'll bend the future a million times if I have to, until you can be happy. I promise."

Nana stared at him, as if searching for the truth in his eyes. She wanted to believe, Izuku could tell, but she was terrified of being wrong again.

A second later, she asked in a voice filled with tears, "And what if I screw it all up again?"

"You won't," Izuku responded quickly. Too quickly.

Nana fixed him with a stare that revealed depths of sorrow he wasn't sure if he could ever touch, ever fix. Bitterly, she said, "You don't understand. I'll always screw it up."

"What are you talking about?" Izuku asked, confused.

"If…if I go back with you," Nana said, and the way she said it made it desperately, painfully clear that she wanted to do it with every fiber in her being, "I…we'll spend the rest of our lives together. Even if I didn't love you so much it hurts, the link would bring us back together anyway."

Izuku nodded slowly, reminding her, "I love you just as much, Nana. That life…we'd make it work, I know we would."

"You don't understand! If I…if we have-" Nana began, only for her voice to choke up and fail her utterly, breaking on the word like a ship on the rocks, "if we have…kids…how do you know I won't just…just leave them, too?"

Izuku's eyes widened as he understood Nana's fear. Even though his heart seized up at the thought of a future like that, with him and Nana and children, he knew that Nana's fear came from her past. But he knew her heart, and he knew the truth. He told her, "You wouldn't leave them, Nana. I know you wouldn't."

"I did before," she pointed out numbly. She was huddled against him by now, the two of them clinging to each other under an oak tree as the world faded into distant fog around them.

Izuku pulled Nana's chin up until they were facing each other again. "You gave up your son to protect him," he corrected, "or do you think that All For One wouldn't have killed him, too?"
For a second, Nana seemed to believe that. But then, her eyes fell again, and she muttered, "He died anyway."

Izuku didn't have an answer to that that didn't sound callous and heartless, so he just wrapped a hand around Nana's waist and dragged her tighter.

But Nana pushed back, just a little, refusing to slot herself against Izuku like they belonged together; it was as if she knew that once she lay there, she would never be able to escape it again.

"It's not worth it," she whispered to Izuku, her eyes pleading and desperate, "I'm not worth it."

Izuku stared at her so passionately, Nana fell silent with words still on her lips. Izuku told her, "You are worth it. You are worth everything. Everything."

Nana shook her head, but she couldn't disagree out loud, not when every word from Izuku's lips threatened to stoke the hope she tried to crush, knowing it would only fail her like everything else.

"Please," she begged, "don't. Let me go. You don't deserve to be saddled with me and all the baggage I've got."

Izuku wrapped his arms around Nana's waist, dragging her up and to him until they were eye-to-eye again, their faces inches apart, noses touching.

"Never," he hissed, low and deep, transfixing Nana with his heat and his strength and his passion, "ask me to let you go again. I won't. I won't do it. Not now, and not ever. I'll say this as many times as I have to until it gets into your damned stubborn head: You are the love of my life. I don't care how much baggage you have from your first life. I don't care if you want to sit in this graveyard and cry for years; I'll sit right here and wait with you until you're done. I'll sit here until the end of time if that's what it takes. You can yell, you can scream, you can do whatever you need to do; I'll be waiting here, at the end."

When Izuku finished, his lips were an inch from Nana's, and every atom in her body was screaming for her to reach out and kiss the life out of the big dumb idiot who loved her so damn much. But she couldn't; dark claws of fear and doubt and self-hatred still held her back, leaving her feeling like she was going to be torn in two. It was agony.

In a voice like cracking glass, she demanded, "Why don't you hate me?"

Izuku blinked, confusion clear on his face. "What?" he asked.

Nana was trembling as she spoke, but the words wouldn't be denied; they flowed from her, unstoppable, inescapable.

"I left you," she reminded him, "I hurt you, I broke your heart because I was too weak to stay and face my own mistakes. I ran away and left you behind because I was scared. I'm not the hero you think I am; I'm a coward."

"You say that like the two can't coexist," Izuku observed, utterly unaffected by Nana's words, "you can be a hero and be terrified the entire time. You can't be a hero all the time, just like a coward won't always be cowardly."

Nana snapped, "Shigaraki is my fault! He exists because of me! How much pain and suffering did I cause with my choices? Everything he did to you and your friends, all the destruction he caused, all the people he killed…it was all because of me, and what I did to my own son."

Izuku stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable and Nana realized that he was, at last, seeing her for what she was. Maybe he would finally understand that she wasn't worth loving.

Izuku looked at her one last time, then simply said, "No."

Nana blinked, not understanding. "Um, what?" she asked.

Izuku shook his head as he stared at her. "I said, no," he replied, "no, I don't hate you. No, Shigaraki isn't your fault. What he did was nobody's fault but his own…and All For One's. Did you kill his parents or attack the USJ? No, he did. I know you blame yourself because you abandoned your son…but he made his choices, too. You aren't responsible for what your descendants did, and you definitely aren't responsible for the actions of someone you never even met."

Izuku paused for a moment, and Nana could feel him stare into her soul, and find it good. "But more than that," he continued, "I love you. I love you more than I could ever hate you. For being the best woman I've ever met, for teaching me to fly…for promising to show me the stars. How could I ever hate you?"

"Please," Nana thought, "just let me leave, don't make me fall for him all over again, don't make this harder than it already is, please-"

Nana kissed him. It happened before she even realized; one second she was begging herself not to believe him, the next she was grabbing for him like she always did when he made the nightmares go away. The feel of his lips drove away her fears like it always did, let her get lost in the warmth and love he offered, made the world perfect. She forgot everything when she kissed him, and for a moment, she was herself again.

Then she let him go, and she remembered where she was, what she was. And then she panicked.

As Izuku was slowly coming to again, regaining his breath, Nana staggered to her feet, pulling up and away from him, from the tree, from it all. The unbreakable claws of her pain settled on her again, and she knew she could never escape.

She whispered, "Damn you, Izuku Midoriya, for making me love you."

Nana stood, and turned to try and run. That was all she was good at, running. She'd never be any different. As soon as it all became too much, she would sprint for the hills, leaving behind ruined lives and shattered hearts. Her feet lifted off the ground without a sound, and she turned her eyes skywards.

She made it half a foot before Izuku's hand closed around her wrist. Nana staggered in shock, not expecting him to get up so fast.

"Not this time," Izuku whispered, and the look of pure determination on his face broke Nana's heart all over again, "I'm not letting go of you this time."

"Please, Izuku," Nana begged, frantic to get away, to escape before it all crushed her.

When Izuku didn't listen, desperate rage bubbled up in Nana's gut, and poured from her lips, tempered with the desperation of her heart to tie her down, to let Izuku win, to keep her here, on the ground, with him.

"Dammit, Izuku, if you know so fucking much about this, tell me something and I'll stay," Nana snarled, the venom on her lips searing her heart.

"Anything," Izuku answered immediately, earnest and true to the end.

Nana demanded, "Why did I come back? Even if you're so sure I'm good, why would One For All let me back into the world, when I've failed so much?"

Izuku froze; he didn't know the answer. Neither of them did.

Desperately, he told the truth, saying, "I think it was a second chance. An opportunity to fix what hurts you so much."

"A second chance for what?" Nana demanded, "my old family is dead! I can't fix anything!"

Izuku had no reply, and they both knew it. Nana wanted to weep as his grip only tightened; he wouldn't let her go, and she loved him for it.

"I'm sorry, Izuku," she gasped out as the tears shattered her, "but I can't."

She tugged again, and her wrist slipped free. Izuku's hand clenched again, but it was only on her fingers; as she strained, his grip loosened.

And then, there was a new voice from the fog, one that neither of them could place.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help but notice you two were having an argument. Perhaps I can help?" it said, kind and soft, with an undercurrent of sorrow so deep it infused the speaker's every word.

Izuku and Nana froze, no longer struggling. They both looked around frantically, trying to spot who had spoken. At last, they saw the man who had spoken.

He was sitting no more than fifteen feet away, on the stump of another enormous oak tree which had died at some point and been cut down. He was skinny, sick-looking, with pale skin and raggedy hair. But for all that, his smile was bright as the sun, and he had a presence about him that felt deeply familiar, though neither Izuku nor Nana could remember ever seeing his face. His hands were interlaced in his lap as he leaned forwards, as if contrite or about to leap into action.

"Wha-how did you get here?" Nana gasped, cancelling her quirk in shock and dropping to the ground. Izuku never let go of her hand.

The man didn't reply; instead, he said, "It's good to meet you in person like this, Izuku. And Nana, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

Izuku's eyes went wide. Forcibly suppressing a shudder, he demanded, "H-how do you know our names?"

The man smiled lightly, almost playfully. His eyes danced with light and laughter as he replied, "You don't know me, but I know you, bearers of the quirk my brother forced on me. I don't think you would know my real name; I barely remember it myself, if I'm being honest. But you can call me...the First."