QUICK A/N: Formatting is very different to AO3... This story has references to the Dad for One theory circling around the internet, for those who don't know what that is, it's the theory that Izuku's father is All for One. There are mentions of death, violence, attempted murder, stalking, obsessive behaviour etc. It's rated T+ because it won't contain major gore or adult-themes. I'm challenging myself to write a thriller/mystery so I hope it works out.

Thanks for reading!

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"From the look of the empty streets, there have been talks with an anonymous tip that they may have found a lead on the notorious AFO murders."

"Mama!"

A small child with fluffy green hair rushed towards a slender woman with matching jade locks, his small hands clung to her skirt as if his life depended on it. Straight away, she muted her television and gave her son the attention he currently needed;

"Izuku?" the woman, his mother, blinked in complete surprise. Raking a hand gently through his unruly hair while taking note of his sniffles, muffled by the fact his face was currently buried in her legs. "What-" she jostled around, bending her body so that she could meet her toddler's eyes, "What's the matter?"

The mother couldn't conceal a small frown that etched across her face. Had something happened? She'd only taken her eyes off of him for a few minutes while he was playing in his bedroom…

"It's them!" he wailed, unable to hold back his outburst. His entire frame was quivering, like he was genuinely terrified and for his mother, that scared her. Immensely.

"Who?" she was able to muster through a choke of her own. Goosebumps crept up her arms at the thought of an intruder inside their small home and she squeezed Izuku closer. "Who?" she repeated, voice harder this time.

She felt her own legs buckle when Izuku pointed to the empty hallway with a trembling finger and then whispered, "They're standing right there."

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Cleaning red liquid from sharpened steel, Hisashi Midoriya let out a small huff. Glancing down at the blood-soaked sheet on the ground, he bit back a groan of frustration.

He'd be here for a while cleaning this…

A soft buzz coming from his blazer pocket momentarily distracted him and he immediately fished out his phone.

A message from Inko? He immediately unlocked his phone and clicked on the notification, eyebrows rising high enough to cause his forehead to crinkle.

He did it again.

A simple phrase that was often very common with most parents. This usually meant that their child had caused a giant mess at home, got into a scuffle with another child or had a minor injury. Typical juvenile behaviour.

But not his child. His only child.

As a baby, his son Izuku had often babbled baby-talk and stared for long periods of time at areas of their house that had nothing there. When he was learning to talk, he had a tendency to point at places indoors and outdoors and then tell his understandably concerned parents that he could see people smiling back at him.

The problem, though?

Every time Izuku had one of these outbursts, there had been nothing there. Inko and Hisashi had shrugged it off and tried to blot it from their minds, choosing to believe that it was just the overactive imagination of a highly strung toddler.

But the final nail in the coffin for his father, at least, was when Izuku had tugged his shirt sleeve and uttered the words that still shook him to his core;

"Uncle says thank you for the flowers."

His younger brother was dead. Had been for a long time yet it didn't stop Hisashi from paying his respects and leaving flowers at his brother's grave. Now, in most circumstances, if Hisashi had heard this from anybody else, he may have teared up a little. But this time? It frightened him.

Izuku had never been told about his younger brother. Inko and Hisashi had been waiting to explain once their son had gotten a little older to understand the concept of life and death.

There was a low moan and Hisashi looked over his shoulder at the chained-down figure in the background with a grunt. It seemed like his wife could read his mind as another message pinged underneath the first;

I know you've been busy with work lately but I think we need to talk about this with a professional. I'm worried, Hisashi.

Another moan from the background, this time it was slightly louder. Hisashi made a small guttural sound of complete annoyance at his captive's rudeness. He was looking forward to snuffing out another foolish member of the criminal underworld that dared show their ugly faces around his territory.

Apologies, work has indeed been rather strenuous lately...

He paused, glancing down at his selection of his tools of trade, ranging from the sharpest, longest knives to various types of heavier artillery. His rank and feared status in the criminal underworld did make it extremely easy to acquire such deadly weaponry after all…

Hisashi hummed, making a decision as he turned his attention towards a small handgun with a twisted expression that made him look more uncomfortable than annoyed.

I should be home within an hour. Two at the most.

"Consider this a mercy," he growled, cocking the gun against the temple of his victim with an expression that was completely lacking any kind of remorse. His eyes lit up in childish glee at the click of the weapon under his fingertips and a grin spread out across his face as the firearm bellowed and shot a bullet straight through the skull of his victim; killing the man instantly as he fell from the chair and hit the floor face first.

He could make a quick phone call to Giran. His associate and his young ward could clean up the aftermath together. It wasn't a massive job to complete.

After glancing down at the screensaver on his phone of his beautiful young family with a soft smile, he finally pocketed it and turned to the carnage across the floor of the warehouse.

It was time to return home.

As he reached for his coat, the sound of the front door being suddenly being pounded against caused his hand to falter. Hazel eyes flashed in fury when he heard several shouts followed by the repeated slamming motions.

He slowly made his way to one of the boarded-up windows and squinted through one of the many cracks in the old, decaying wood until his eyes landed on the cause of the loud slamming motions against metal.

The Police Force.

Cursing darkly, he quickly pocketed his handgun and tore his tie from his shirt and discarded it thoughtlessly on the ground. With a restrained grunt, he shrugged off his blazer and yanked his buttoned up shirt roughly, tearing several buttons from the fabric as they bounced along the ground.

"Sorahiko," Hisashi muttered darkly. If anybody on the damned force had found him, he had no doubt in his mind that it would have been that bitter old fool who was responsible for this. He hoped that the old cretin stepped through the doors first, he'd happily shoot the fool dead on the spot for daring to get in his way.

However, for the first time in a very long while, Hisashi was rendered speechless when the door was forced open and a raven-haired woman stepped through first, armed with a massive firearm that was pointing straight at the killer.

Before he could even act, Nana Shimura open fired. The bullets soared towards their target like tiny comets, ready to do as much damage as they could.

Flashes of his kind-hearted wife flooded his mind as he felt hard, hot metal pierce into his body. Strangely enough, it didn't feel as excruciating as he'd previously imagined.

Letting out a choked gasp, he felt his own weapon slip from his hand and he watched with tired eyes as it clattered to the ground. The noise echoing through his head like a never ending echo through a dark tunnel.

What is this feeling?

Was he dying?

Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, he looked up at the flickering lights above him, eyes following along the cracks formed around the cheap plastic. A sharp pain suddenly emitted from his head and his thoughts turned fuzzy, like his brain had turned to static.

Izuku was still so young…

This couldn't be the end.

He didn't want to die like this.

Oh, God. Inko. What would she say, or do? If they found out the truth; they'd discover his family and…

Darkened eyes focused back on the trembling woman, piercing onyx orbs reflecting absolute hatred despite the stream of tears leaking down her face as her jaw trembled while her knees threatened to give out underneath her.

"That was for Daigoro," Nana choked out, body slumping when the demon in front of her eyes hit the floor face-first.

Hisashi's eyes zoned in on the cold, rough ground that his face was currently pressed up against. There was one chance at protecting his wife and child.

Just one.

He'd be sealing his own fate but if it meant protecting them?

Hisashi would do anything.

Shaking hands slowly reached towards his trouser back pocket. The small firearm wouldn't do much for trying to fend off Shimura, but thankfully that's not what he was planning on aiming for.

"One for all," Hisashi breathed out, cocking his gun and ignoring the screams from Shimura and her lackeys, "and all for one."

A single, deafening gunshot rang out and then within seconds, alarms began to blare and the shouting became more panicked and erratic. Hisashi vaguely took in the abrupt feeling of a harsh heat spreading and a sickening smog that churned his insides. He closed his eyes, nausea and pain merged together into one and he allowed himself to fall deeper into the shadows that clung to him.

Guess I'll be seeing you sooner than I thought, Izuku.

It would finally be over.

Right?