Part III

Kamino Ward.

Christmas Eve, approximately ten years before the League of Villains attack on the Unforseen Simulation Joint.

Kagero meandered along the snowy streets of Kamino Ward, navigating along a new route as he did every night. Christmas was just around the corner, and he was feeling particularly jolly this evening. Over the bay, commercial airliners made their approach to Haneda International, red and green position lights flashing in the dark.

"-better watch out… better not cry… hmm, hmm, hmm, tellin' you why…" He cut left, into the mouth of an alley. A gritty mash of ice and cinders crunched under his boots. With a swift kick, Kagero sent a discarded tin can careening down the alley. It made an ungodly racket along the way. From a corner between an overflowing dumpster and the alley wall came a shout; a mishappen bundle of rags with watery eyes stuck its head out of a pile of trash bags.

"-cause Santa Clause is comin' to town! Merry Christmas Touma, you crusty old bastard!" Kagero flicked a folded-up thousand-yen note into Touma's face and watched him scramble to fish it out of the refuse. Touma's unique stench, combined with the scent of menthol and tar was something else. It made Kagero's eyes water.

"You know, I been keeping my nose real clean lately, real clean," Kagero leered down his nose at the vagrant, puffing away. "So, what's Jolly old St. Nick got to put under my tree this Christmas Eve? Come on, give me a hint, I won't tell nobody, I promise!"

"Haven't seen anyone. N-not th-that you-you w-w-w- "

"That I'd wa-wa-wa-? No one that I'd wa-wa-wa-?" Kagero made a coaxing gesture with his hands, "come on, man, while I'm still young." Touma's face screwed up in clear frustration.

"No… one-one-one… t-that… you-you… w-would… wa-want." Touma sagged from the exertion.

"Christ on a trike, that was like pulling teeth!" Kagero straightened up and flicked his butt into the dumpster, "you ought to get that stammer checked out man, it seems pretty bad. What is it, speech disorder? Congenital defect? Brain injury? You put a hot coal in your mouth as a wee babe?" He shook his head and whipped out his revolver, twirling it with a flourish before he pulled the trigger.

Touma wailed and dove under his blanket of trash bags.

A little jet of blue flame hissed at the muzzle. Kagero holstered it, puffing on a fresh cigarette. "C'mon, c'mon", he snapped his fingers, "you gotta gimme something man, remember the reason for the season!"

Touma's arm shot out of the trash, pointing further down the alley. "G-g-g-girl. You-you-young. A-alone?"

Kagero's eyebrows rose lazily, "Girl? Young? Alone? Hey, what kind of sleazeball operation do you think I'm running here? Man! Just when you think you know a guy; he turns out to be a diddler."

Touma's head popped up, flinging rubbish every which way. "A-a-asshole!" He went cross-eyed at another thousand yen note, dangled a scant few inches from the tip of his greasy nose.

Kagero pulled the money just out of his reach, clucking his tongue all the while. "So, what can you tell me about this little girlfriend of yours? Age? Looks? How long she been around?" Greed flashed behind his little round glasses, "What's her quirk?"

Transfixed by the money, Touma choked out what he could. "S-she's r-real you-young. S-six? Um-um-um-um- ", he flapped his hands around the top of his head, "e-ears, b-b-b-b-big e-ears. Whi-white e-ears. S-saw her-her-her a d-d-d-d-day a-ago" Touma licked his lips and furrowed his sweaty brow, concentrating intensely. Little puffs of steam rolled out of his mouth as he muddled along. "R-r-r-r-r… R-r-r…"

Kagero rolled his eyes. This was taking too long. He could feel the jollies hollying out of his body, right alongside his good mood. "Come on, be a good little elf, spit it out! Spit. It. out!"

The thousand yen note in his hand became two. Touma's eyes bulged, and his tongue wriggled in his grubby little mouth.

Kagero grinned, he would have to get Compress to teach him another bit of sleight of hand when he next met the loony magician.

"R-ra-ra-ra! Bi-bi-bi-bit! Qu! Qu! Qu! Quirk!" The last word shot out of him like a rocket and left a trail of spittle in its wake. Old Touma looked like he was about to have a stroke or blow a blood vessel.

"So, we've got a lost little bunny wabbit camped out somewhere in this shithole, that about sum it up?" The money flittered out of Kagero's hand and disappeared in a flash, devoured by Touma's ratty coat. He didn't wait for Touma to confirm, he didn't need to, the bum was usually good for his information. Even if it was a royal pain in the ass to drag it out of him.

The trash hermit very rarely roamed away from his little hidey hole, and he never left his alley. That meant this girl had wandered past him at some point in the last day. Kagero shrugged. It wasn't much to go on, and heteromorphic quirks were usually hit or miss when it came down to potential profit, but collecting strays was his most lucrative side business.

If he found the girl, if she proved useful, and that was a big if, then he'd set her up with a job with one of his clients. Maybe he'd have her run jobs for him in a few years if she lasted. If she wasn't useful, well… Kurogiri might take her. He seemed to have a thing for strays too. Regardless, it was better than the alternatives for a lost little girl in this part of town. Probably.

"Did bunny go this-a-way," he pointed back the way he came, "or that-a-way?"

Touma jerked his head further down the alley.

"Right, that-a-way it is, and look! I won't even have to go out of my way! You have my thanks, as usual Touma." Kagero leaned down and patted Touma on the cheek.

His jaw went slack, and he slumped into his refuse pile with vacant eyes.

"Don't let it go to your head now, you hear? Merry Christmas!" he waved over his shoulder as he departed.

As he trudged along, his mind wandered back to his biggest client. Kurogiri was a different piece of work than the rest. He was too calm, too proper, too clean. Too damn nice. It made Kagero's skin crawl to think about him. In his line of work, the more normal clients seemed, the more fucked up they were. At least, that was the trend, and Kagero had plenty of dirt to back that claim up. He had the lowdown on just about everyone in Kamino, most big names in Yokohama, and even the who's who of Tokyo proper. It was simply good business to know the skeletons in your client's closet, especially if they had no compunctions about turning you into one of those skeletons.

As things turned out, Kurogiri was about as ghostly on paper as he looked in real life. He rolled into Kamino one day and quietly set up shop in his little bar. No one knew who he was, where he came from, or what his angle was. Despite the mystery no one could deny that the seedy underbelly of Kamino had experienced a sort of revival after Kurogiri showed up. His little operation – and no one knew what the fuck it was, but it was his – turned Kamino on its ear, nearly overnight it seemed.

Kagero only had two solid facts about Kurogiri:

He couldn't find anyone in this godforsaken country had ever heard the name Kurogiri before he showed up in Kamino. After Kurogiri showed up, a criminal renaissance kicked off, the likes of which hadn't been seen since before All Might's debut, and that was, what, nearly thirty years ago?

So, overall, he knew nothing useful about the guy. The population of local thugs, crooks, and bona-fide villains boomed. Everyone was rolling in cash, jobs, and their vice of choice. The cops were nowhere to be seen. The wild part was that nothing was coming from Kurogiri. At least, not that he could tell, and he had his fingers hardwired to the pulse of this shithole town.

It was baffling to Kagero, maddening even. Kurogiri wasn't dealing, not in drugs, guns, or whores, and he sure as shit wasn't buying any of the above. He wasn't racketeering, counterfeiting, or running protection rackets. His business model was nonexistent if you were outside looking in. On top of – what was, in Kagero's mind – a damning lack of evidence, Kurogiri was never seen anywhere but inside his bar. Kagero couldn't even say with certainty that the misty bastard ate, drank, or fucked anything.

At the end of the day, rather than waste time by chasing purple ghosts, Kagero rolled with the changes and covered his own ass. He kept his feelers out but didn't pursue the issue further, content to take his cut out of the new wealth the local crooks had. Things carried on like that for about a year. Then things got weird. People started disappearing.

Sometimes people got picked up off the streets. Sometimes they got a job and moved up in life. Sometimes they died. It was sporadic. It happened. Dealing with it was part of life here. Especially when you worked as a broker. If anything, the disappearances made Kagero more careful. Kept him on his toes as it were. When people started to go missing with regularity though, that's when he started to feel uneasy. At first, it was the used-up wastrels and societal rejects that drifted into town. When they vanished, Kagero looked the other way and moved on. When yakuza mutts and two-bit villains got sucked into the vanishing act, Kagero stopped taking the same route home every night. When kids, the occasional licensed pro, and nosy cops started to go, with no sign of imminent retribution from the Law, Kagero walked straight into Kurogiri's bar and pitched his services. They quickly reached an agreement. Keep your enemies closer, right?

He ambled further down the alley until he came to a crossroad.

"Left, right, or straight? If I were a little runaway bunny, lost and alone in the dead of winter, where would I hide?"

He'd probably plant himself in a spot where he could eye everyone who came and went. Somewhere dark and cozy. Straight ahead was the way to go, or so his gut told him. He continued that way for a while. After roughly a half hour of aimless wandering, Kagero was ready to call it quits.

"Guess it wasn't meant to be. Ah well."

He turned around to leave and did a double take. Against the wall was large cardboard box, soggy and half crumpled. It read SUPER SPECIAL SOY SAUCE: ALL MIGHT BULK EDITION on the side in blocky black letters. He had passed it only a moment ago. It was laid on its side, flaps haphazardly bent closed. The box itself was unremarkable amongst the myriad bits of trash strewn about the network of alleys in this part of town. Kagero wouldn't have given it a second though had there not been a foot-long rabbit ear sticking out of the top of the box. A rabbit ear that hadn't been there until he turned around.

He could not believe his dumb luck. The ear twitched and swiveled towards Kagero when he stepped forward. With some amusement, he shuffled from side to side, scraping the soles of his boots on the concrete. The ear swiveled back and forth like a periscope, tracking his location perfectly.

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, shuffling closer to the box.

When he was about three meters away the ear disappeared, sucked down into the box so fast that Kagero about gave himself whiplash following it down. The suddenness of it reminded him of some ocean creature he had seen on TV once, one that sucked its feelers into its body whenever something big and hungry swam by. He nudged the flaps of the box open with his toe and crouched down, peering inside.

Jackpot!

He'd found the kid – she couldn't have been older than five – curled up like a fried shrimp in a soggy soy sauce box. The only thing missing was a big bow to go on top.

Merry Freaking Christmas.

Not twenty minutes later saw Kagero and the bunny kid just down the street from The Golden Cat. A secular establishment, it was open for business on Christmas Eve. Naturally. Working girls – there were five or so – in tacky furs, thick perfumes, little else made eyes at every downtrodden bastard that shambled down the road. It worked well to get people in the door; most of the poor saps were eager to pay for an hour of saccharine warmth in this frosty weather.

Kagero didn't get the come-hither eyes from the girls when he walked up. No, he got furtive glances and a few colorful jeers. A few doubletakes too, at the scruffy little kid holding his hand.

A pretty young thing with bottle blonde hair, Sally, trotted up and barged right into the kid's personal space. "Oh my goodness, oh my goodness! You are so freakin' cute! My name's Sally, what's your name sweetie?"

The kid cowered under Sally's swift barrage of affection. Her teeth chittered softly, and she looked around wildly, like she was waiting to be strung up and gutted like a fish.

Somewhere, deep, deep within a traitorous part of himself, Kagero felt sorry for the kid. He didn't dwell on the thought though, that line of thinking wasn't profitable.

"Aww, it's okay baby, you don't have to be afraid." Sally cooed and stroked at the kid's hair.

Kagero rolled his eyes at the woman's fussing. She was one of the younger girls at the Cat, so she still had that little spark that let her give a damn about people she wasn't trying to bill. He gave her six months before she had the same dead eyes that all the other whores in Kamino shared. Call him a pessimist, but he'd already seen it before, and he doubted life would stop beating the hope out of people anytime soon.

"Brat's name is Brat until further notice. She's not the talkative type, so see if you can get something out of her, will you? Found her in a soy sauce box over in block 62."

Sally turned her head so fast that her stout blonde curls smacked the kid upside the head.

Brat flinched and whined.

"That's… on the edge of Kurogiri's turf, isn't it?"

A group of eavesdropping girls next to the entrance stilled, no longer feigning disinterest in the conversation. Their apprehensive whispering undercut Kagero and Sally's conversation.

"Nah, it's right in it now." He stretched arms and bit back a yawn, "Everything south of block 70, right up to the bay. Y'all are practically neighbors now."

One of the girls by the door went inside abruptly, probably to share the news of Kurogiri's expansion with the madam.

"Look, Sally, I'm not here for a business call," he winked, and she sneered back, "I've got work to do. Watch the brat for me, will you? And give her a bath, she reeks." The kid went cross-eyed when he stuck his finger in her face. "Miss Sally here is going to feed you and find you a bed for the night, so you better behave. Understand me?"

The kid perked up at the mention of food and nodded quickly. Satisfied, he walked off with a lazy wave.

A litany of vile words seeped from Sally's mouth.

He wondered how long it would take Sally to realize that those giant parabolic dishes on the kid's head weren't just for show.

"Hey, you can't leave a kid here, you're not even supposed to bring them here in the first place! Don't you walk away from me!"

"Too late Sally, no take backs!"

"WAIT!"

Kagero stopped mid step. That squeaky little voice couldn't have been anyone but the brat. Now she decided she wanted to talk? He turned and looked down, raising an eyebrow in askance. "What's up, shrimp?"

The kid hesitated for a minute. She bounced from foot to foot. The cold sidewalk must have been hell on her bare feet.

Idly, Kagero wondered how much longer she would have lasted if he never found her.

"My… my name's Rumi."

Kagero blinked.

"Well, nice to finally make your acquaintance Rumi." The streetlights glinted off his glasses. "You can call me Giran."

"I know…"

Rumi sat, alone, in the purest sense of the word. There was nothing. She was nothing. Lost in nothing.

"I…"

Just her, and she wasn't sure that she was actually there either.

"I know that I push you away sometimes. It… I love hearing from you. Feeling you. But…"

Death was curious. Curious and strange. There was no pain. No fear. She wasn't floating on a cloud or boiling in brimstone. She was just here. Surrounded by nothing. Blackness wherever she looked. Silence wherever she listened. Seated on a ledge she couldn't feel or see, legs dangling over an infinite void or just a hairsbreadth above some imperceptible floor.

"I'm afraid, Izuku. Of so many things. If I let you in… If I really let you in…"

Her body was whole again. Or rather, it was whole here, but… "I've gotten my hopes up. So many times." She turned her hands in her lap. The arm she'd lost to the grenade was back in place. "Every time it's led to nothing. I found nothing. I won nothing." Was it really her body? Was it even a body to begin with? "I fought. I raged. I died. And… nothing." She flickered intermittently, glitching out of reality.

Dark vapors swirled from her skin, vanishing against the empty backdrop of this place. The tan, warm tones were gone. The scars. Her hair. Her ears. "I'm so afraid that you'll find nothing." She was a shade, a murky silhouette shaped vaguely like the person Rumi Usagiyama once was. "Like me."

A vestige.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Nana smiled her perfect smile as she sat next to Rumi on that imperceptible ledge.

"Nana Shimura." There was no accusation or curiosity, no fear or warmth, just the matter of fact statement that this woman was Nana Shimura.

"That's me."

Rumi was silent for a moment. Minute? Years? Who knew? "Why?"

Nana sighed comfortably. She reached out with an arm, gently grasping the younger girls shoulder and pulling her into a sort of one armed hug. Rumi rested her cheek on Nana's shoulder, and Nana gently stroked Rumi's hair.

"Why has always been a complicated question."

"I'm dead."

"I hope so. Being alive and in All For One's possession isn't a fate I'd wish on you."

Rumi stilled at his mention. "All For One. All Might's nemesis. An Archvillain with a quirk that lets him steal other quirks. The creator of One For All, a power stockpiling quirk that's been passed down for generations. To you, then to All Might, and finally, to Izuku. A quirk you and I are currently inside." She frowned, and with a bit more of her personality bleeding into her voice, she said "Two dead women having a conversation. That about sum it up?"

Nana laughed. It was a pleasant sound. "Yeah, I'd say so. Crazy, isn't it?"

"Fucking batshit insane…"

Nana laughed harder. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "You know, I've been watching you for a long, long time. Since you were five or so."

Rumi looked up curiously. "How on earth?"

"Ah, 'how's' are much easier than 'why's'. And to answer you, I have no idea."

The girl squinted up at nana, narrowing large, featureless eyes, glowing with eerie similarity to Kurogiri's acid yellow gaze.

"I had assumed that you were the ninth inheritor. And honestly, I was pretty pissed about that. All For One can only be bestowed on the next inheritor if the holder wills it. Which would have meant that Toshi passed it on to a young child. But it wasn't the case, because he was still glowing like a beacon when I first discovered you."

"Toshinori Yagi? You mean All Might?"

"The one and only. My star pupil!" She grinned, pushing her cheeks up with her fingertips. "When he picked Izuku that boy lit up like a supernova. I was honestly surprised that he didn't explode the instant his body integrated One For All. But to answer your question, I exist within One For All because I was one of its inheritors. When I died in the real world, my imprint here came to life. Sort of. I'm not the real Nana Shimura, if that makes sense. Anyway, you have some sort of connection to One For All. I have no idea what that connection actually is, but you wouldn't be here otherwise."

"Oh. All Might didn't give me One For All though."

"Yeah, hence the confusion." She squeezed Rumi's shoulder. "The hard truth of it is this. You're somehow connected to this quirk, and you died because you're here now and we're actually talking, but that's where it gets weirder than usual."

Reaching up, Rumi felt around where her ears should have been. "Because I don't look like me."

"Yeah. You look a lot like Toshi's vestige. The other inheritors and I, we're all here, but we can't really talk or interact. We occasionally catch a glimpse of one another though. Since I've seen Toshi in here, and he looks like you, it's a fair assumption that you aren't fully dead. Or maybe you died and were revived. We have no way of knowing, unfortunately. Again, I really do hope you're dead."

"Thanks? But... well, I saw… when All For One used Rivet Stab on me, I went into his mind…" Rumi shivered. "I saw... he's using my body to get One For All."

Nana grimaced. "Well, stealing One For All fits his M.O., that's all he's really cared about. I think? It's not worth your sanity to dissect his motives." She let go of Rumi and leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. "He… found my husband. Forty some years ago. Used him against me… That was when I decided to train Toshinori. To invest in the future, as it were."

With some hesitation, Rumi squeezed Nana's shoulder in a way she hoped was comforting. "He isn't planning on stealing it. He wants Izuku to give it up willingly. To me."

Nana blinked once, twice, and then swore colorfully. "Of course. Of course, he does. Of course, Toshi would choose your boyfriend as the Ninth Inheritor… Shit."

"Sorry?"

With a sigh, Nana sat up straight. "Ah, It's not your fault. Not even remotely. Don't apologize for the schemes of a madman."

They sat in companionable silence, both mulling over their own problems.

Then: "Nana? You… said you've been watching me for a long time…"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I have. What's on your mind?"

Rumi turned her hands this way and that, watching the static-y flickering of her skin. "Am I… When… Fuck, I have no idea how to ask this."

"Are you still you?" Nana grinned and ruffled Rumi's glitchy hair. "Yeah, you are. You've always been you, and you'll keep being you until you decide to be someone else."

"But All For One-"

Nana raised her hand. "Ah, ah, let me stop you. I can say with one hundred percent certainty that All For One hasn't rummaged around in your head. I've seen it before, and the signs are obvious. All For One and One For All resonate with each other in a painful way too, so I doubt he's done anything to your quirk or given you any new ones. At least… not yet." She winced, "Sorry, shouldn't have said it like that. My point stands. You were, are, and continue to be Rumi Usagiyama."

"Okay, pause everything. How do I know all this crap? The One-For-All-All-For-One shit and who you are, and how the hell do you know what I want to say? Just, what the fuck is going on? I feel like losing my goddamn mind here." The frustration colored her voice with warmth and life, and something distinctly Rumi bled into her voice.

"Oh, that one's easy. There are no secrets here." Nana chuckled. "If you've left an imprint on One For All, then you've left a bit of everything that makes you, you. At the same time, what one inheritor knew, we all know now. Though it doesn't do much good, since we're all dead. The Superposition of One For All. It's part of what allows the quirk to be handed down, and part of how it stockpiles energy. As far as I, or we, know, the vestiges are just a side effect of it all."

Whatever Rumi was about to say was cut off. She gripped her head and screamed, body flickering wildy. She fell to her side and curled inward with a whimper.

Nana shot to her feet, prepared to do whatever the shade of a woman forty years dead could. She figured out the problem in an instant. "Oh no, Izuku! Izuku, stop!"

"-hurry up, one of the Johns just threw up all over Koko's bed."

Izuku wrinkled his nose and carefully laid the bedsheet he'd been folding in the basket with all the others. "Yes, Miss Marguerite."

"Are you giving me lip, girl?"

He scurried around the madam and out the door, keeping his head down as he went. "No, Miss Marguerite."

Wait… this isn't….

.

Izuku sprinted through the city, the outraged cries of a woman echoing in his ears. People were following. Chasing. He ran faster, clutching the purse to his chest. The stolen purse. Thief.

He careened through the crowd, bouncing off people's legs as he went.

"Wait, stop!"

Izuku turned, looking over his shoulder.

A slender woman with green hair. She was closing in. She looked worried.

Mom? I… I don't…

Tires screeched. A horn bellowed.

Izuku fell flat on his butt, in a pedestrian crossing. The plastic bumper of a car just shy of the tip of his nose. He lurched up. He kept running. He ran, and ran, and ran, all the way back to the bullet train. Back to Giran.

Giran? What the hell?

He was supposed to meet Giran after he got the purse. He wasn't supposed to be caught, but that was okay, because Giran would know what to do. Giran was good at talking to people. Especially angry people. Giran could fix this.

He rounded a corner so fast he crashed into the far wall. The crowd of people boarding the train was dense, but he spotted Giran through it. There he was, just inside the first passenger car! In a high, sharp voice, he screamed. "Mister Giran!"

Giran looked over casually. Lazy as ever. Unconcerned.

His sensitive ears picked a racket. The green woman skidded into the same wall he had just a split second earlier. "Please, stop running!"

The train doors slid closed.

Giran turned away from the window. He made no move to intervene. He didn't spare a second look. He just… left.

The purse slipped from his arms. Its contents spilled across the tiled floor.

The woman crashed into him from behind. "Oh my God! Are you okay? Are you hurt?!" She spun him around and urgently checked him over. Fat tears shimmered in her eyes. "Please, please never run into traffic like that ever again!" The woman pulled him into a crushing hug and-

That IS my mom, what on earth? Is this a dream?

.

He was curled into a ball, pressed into the corner of the room. His ears twitched. People were coming. Three. Two women, one man. One of the women worked here. The other one, and the man, were both strangers.

"- is a bit… cagey. She's had a rough time from what the police and Miss Inspire were able to figure out. She also seems to really distrust the staff here, so it might be best if I wait outside the door for you. Just… take it slow, alright?"

There was gently murmured agreement.

The door opened.

He grimaced silently, curling his arms tighter around his legs.

A woman with blonde hair and a man with brown hair and glasses peered in.

The woman gasped softly and turned to the man. "God, look at her." She whispered.

If she thought she was going to keep him in the dark by whispering, then she was sorely mistaken.

Wait, Kacchan's parents? That's them, but they look so much younger. Why… oh… oh no.

They carefully closed the door. The woman knelt on the floor where she stood, on the other side of the room. Her friend crouched next to her. "Hi, sweetie. My name is Mitsuki."

"I'm Masaru." The man smiled gently. "What's your name?"

They already knew his name. He heard them talking in the hall. Maybe they were just being nice? Regardless, they didn't push the issue.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly.

Mitsuki opened her mouth to say something, but Masaru gently nudged her shoulder.

He shook his head faintly when she looked over.

She made an 'o' shape with her lips and nodded sheepishly.

It took a while, but eventually: "I… I'm Rumi." He said softly.

Oh god. These are memories.

.

"Rumi! Katsuki! Get your little butts in here, we have company!" Mitsuki called cheerfully.

He hopped off his bed with a grumble.

Katsuki shoulder checked him into the doorframe of their room as he trotted past.

"Ouch, you jerk!"

He sneered in an ugly way over his shoulder, laughing. "Dumb bunny."

He loped after Katsuki, intending to whack him upside the head. Coming around the corner to the kitchen, he saw her. The green haired woman that caught her at the train station. He stopped dead.

"Hi Katsuki. Oh, Rumi, hello!" She smiled brightly. "Do you remember me?"

He suddenly felt like he was going to throw up. The fastest way out of the house from the kitchen was through the front door. He could probably make it if he moved quickly. "Y-yeah… guess so…"

The woman – mom – blinked. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you. I… maybe we got off on the wrong foot. O-oh dear, uhm-" She floundered. "I'm Inko Midoriya, and- and this is my son, Izuku. It's nice to meet you. Properly, that is. I, uh, hope there's no hard feelings or anything?" She smiled awkwardly.

A boy with goofy looking green hair peeked around from behind Inko's legs. "H-hi…" He murmured. He looked curious, but also so… sad.

That's me. This… this is so weird. How am I seeing this? Why?

.

Kacchan swung at him lazily, oozing confidence.

He ducked sharply and rose, turning his body, putting everything he had behind the punch he threw into Kacchan's gut. If the asshole didn't want to take him seriously, it was his loss. The punch connected.

Kacchan hit the ground, wheezing.

"Don't fucking call him that!" he snarled.

"R-Rumi! Stop!" Izuku threw his arms around his middle and dragged him back.

"He isn't useless you fucking asshole! What good are you anyway?" He stomped forward, ignoring Izuku's efforts. "I dropped you with one punch, didn't I? So, how's it feel to be a stupid Deku? Huh?!" He was going to stomp Kacchan's goddamn teeth in, and then kill his dumb fucking friends, and-

"Rumi! STOP!" Izuku shouted right in his ear.

He froze, suddenly self-aware.

From behind, Izuku hugged him tightly. "Y-you won, Rumi. You won, so please stop. Don't hurt him anymore. Please."

Kacchan looked up from where he lay, shaken and stunned.

He couldn't remember him ever looking scared before now. All the anger withered and died. "I- I wasn't going to…" Izuku looked absolutely terrified of him, and that hurt so much more than anything Katsuki could do or say. "Wait, don't look at me like that, I wasn't… I'm sorry, I..." Panic reared in his gut.

The first time you stood up for me, and the only time I was ever afraid of you...

.

"Happy Birthday, you unrepentant little brat." Mitsuki leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

He shied away. "Bleh, mom!" He froze immediately.

They slowly made eye contact.

She grinned brightly. "You called me mom."

"Oh… you know, we all, uh… make mistakes sometimes?" He took a wary step backwards.

With a snort, she leaned down and gently snagged one of his ears. "Admit it, you finally called me mom."

Up on the balls of his feet, he swatted at his mother's hand. "Ai! Alright, fine! I called you mom, now leggo!"

Mitsuki released him with an evil little snicker. "Took you long enough, I feel like I've been playing catch-up with your father for months."

He backed away with a grumble, cupping his ears protectively. There was a moment where he hesitated, unsure of what he wanted. Then he rushed forward, seizing her in a hug. "… thanks, for… for…" He muttered, blushing bright red.

Mom crouched down and pulled him into a proper hug. "You don't have to explain a thing."

Wait, she… Mitsuki isn't my mother. I'm not Rumi, I'm Izuku. My mom is Inko, not Mitsuki. I… oh, this is confusing.

.

"FUCK! YOU!" He slammed the door to her room in mom's face, turned, and pressed his back against it. A frustrated tear dripped off his chin and he pulled the tips of his ears down tightly. There was so much confusion. So much anger. Always there, waiting to ruin every good thing that happened in his life. Or at least, that's how it felt. "Why? Why the fuck am I like this?!"

.

Tomorrow was Valentine's Day, the foulest of all holidays. Well, it was currently one in the morning, so technically Valentine's Day was today.

Izuku never got anything from anyone on Valentine's Day.

He was going to change that. Now. Or tomorrow. Actually, later today, but whatever.

Only… everything he'd written out so far was utter garbage, as witnessed by the mountain of crumpled papers that hid his wastebasket from view.

His forehead thumped gently against the desk. He needed something, goddamnit, and he wasn't going to bed until he figured it out.

Oh, Rumi.

.

"This might be the worst fucking idea you've ever had." After watching Rappa pulverize three fighters in a row, Katsuki's bravado crumbled.

Izuku, seized by the heights of anxiety, muttered up a storm. Totally oblivious to their conversation.

"Pfft, I'll be fine. Besides, look at the guy. He's got to be worn out after all that. How bad could it be?"

Izuku lit up. "Wait, look, he's favoring his right side, is he hurt? There, under his arm, he's bleeding!"

He slung his arm around Izuku's neck. "There's my favorite nerd. Welcome back to the real world!"

You idiot… It was so much worse than any of us imagined. Why didn't I try harder to stop you?

.

Hawks' neck burned white hot in his hands. He let go with a gasp, flinging himself across the room, back to the wall.

Hawks sat up gingerly and fished his goggles out of the blankets. He replaced them over his eyes and beamed. Like he hadn't just been assaulted

His fingers went numb, the tingling sensation spread to his palms and up through his forearms. Saliva pooled in his mouth.

"So… you remember those, ah, violent and territorial urges I mentioned? Anything you wanna tell me?"

He lunged for the waste basket and vomited.

Holy shit, Rumi. Why did you hide this from us?

.

He lied through his teeth to Hawks that morning. Now, he was pacing in his room, anxiously worrying at the tip of an ear. "'I'll do my absolute goddamn best to save everyone, or my name's not Mirko the Hero'!? Was I fucking high? Shit, shit, shit. Fuck! Why did I sign that stupid contract?" Regret, bitter and dark, dragged him down. "No. No, this is fine, I can make this work." Would he be able to go to school? Could he balance UA and the Commissions freaky little goon program? Was he a gigantic fucking moron with eyes bigger than his stomach? He had an answer to one of those three questions, and it wasn't a hard answer. Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. "I can do this. I will do this."

You didn't have to do it alone. Did you think we'd hold you back? I know I didn't have my quirk yet, but… Why? Why did you take all of this on by yourself?

.

He stood in front of the President of the hero commission, back ramrod straight. He was dressed conservatively. Simply. An oxford in blue and a pencil skirt in charcoal. The fur at the base of his ears was immaculately fluffed. Hawks stood off to the side, visibly conflicted. Could the president see it like he could?

On one hand, Hawks looked like he wanted to abort the whole thing right then and there. On the other, he was practically vibrating in his boots. Happy. Proud.

He wasn't backing down. Not now. Not after two years of hell. So, he stared the President in the eye, raised his hand, and took the oath. No hesitation. No fear. No regret. He was Rumi Usagiyama, and always would be. After today, Rumi Usagiyama was Mirko the Hero, acting for the safety, security, and wellbeing of the people. There was a stirring in his chest. A savage thrill. A rush of defiance. Hard won pride.

.

He was so goddamn stupid.

Cocky.

Arrogant.

Because of that, Toga killed two people. Escaped. Would kill again.

That should have been the worst thing about this mess. The loss of two human lives. He should have been horrified by that. By his failure to act.

The blood was so much worse though. It just wouldn't come off his hands, no matter how hard he scrubbed. Beneath a bridge over the Tama river, he knelt in the mud, scrubbing, and scrubbing, and scrubbing, and-

.

Boiling ash fell over Kamino, painting the dying city grey. The fires raged, consuming everything. Buildings and people, old and young. Police and gangsters. Rioters and bystanders. All burned.

Embers seared his hands as he tore at a half-collapsed wall. There was someone behind it, screaming for help. Someone that needed to be saved. He almost had it. "Just hang on, I'll get you out!" If only he could budge this goddamn beam!

Nejire swooped in, colliding with his shoulder. "Mirko, we have to go, come on!"

He grit his teeth and pulled harder on the beam, screaming his frustration.

"Mirko!" Nejire grabbed her by the chin and wrenched her head around. "The building's coming down, we have to go, NOW!"

"I…" he looked, between Nejire and the collapsed wall, horrified. Panicked. "No, we can still-"
The ceiling buckled and groaned. Nejire swore and grabbed him around the waist. A powerful wash of golden energy launched them clear from the crumbling high rise.

"No, NO! Don't leave me! Please! I don't want to-"

Curse his goddamn ears. The dying pleas of the person – the living, breathing human life – that he'd tried so hard to save, they hooked into his eardrums like a parasite. He didn't even know who they were.

Nejire had been right in the end. The building came down just seconds after she dragged him out.

Enraged, he swung at the hero.

She didn't back off, or block.

The punch connected firmly with her cheek. The meaty smack should have been so satisfying, especially with how Nejire had stomped him in their earlier fight.

To Nejire's credit, she tanked the hit without buckling. She didn't even flinch.

"I HAD IT! WHY?" There was no satisfaction in landing the hit. Just empty distress. "WE COULD HAVE SAVED THEM!"

Nejire, ever so gently, took his wrist. "We can't save everyone. Sometimes… sometimes we have to save ourselves. What good can we do if we die trying to save the day?" The tall girl pulled him into a tight hug. "It's terrible, and I hate it, but sometimes the only way to win is to save yourself."

He wanted to scream, to rage, to push her away and break her goddamn face, but the energy left him. He gnashed his teeth together, biting down on a traitorous sob.

Nejire murmured against his neck, "I'm so, so sorry, Mirko."

The one comfort, he supposed, was that Nejire sounded as broken up about it as he felt. Even if she was holding herself together better than he ever could.

Oh god, Rumi. Why didn't I stop you from leaving! What the hell is wrong with me, you never would have had to… No… No, you would have gone anyway, no matter what I said. Isn't that right? Rumi?

.

Bullets skipped off concrete. Quirks fired off haphazardly. Adrenaline sang. He skipped through it all, untouched. So much festering anger and creeping stress, all of it, vented into a violent rage. A bloody fight, one versus many, where a single misstep could be the end of everything.

He felt strong. Powerful. Incredible. Alive, for the first time since the fires died.

Bouncing off the hood of a car he careened upward, snatching a firebomb out of the air, and whipping it back at the sender.

Their scream both turned his stomach and sent a jolt up his spine.

The Yakuza never stood a chance.

.

The memories were coming faster now. A disjointed rush of violence, adrenaline, and hurt, coming so fast that it gave Izuku whiplash and forced him out of Rumi's shoes. He found himself spectating, no longer confused about who owned the memories that he was seeing.

He didn't want to see any more. The Rumi he remembered, sweet and wild, he saw her less and less. Something changed in her after the fires. After Toga. She got angry. Angrier than normal for Rumi. Brutal. Ruthless. Mean.

"Stop. Stop, I don't want to see anymore." Desperate, Izuku reached for One For All, hoping his quirk could help, could do something to shake him out of this horrible trance. The power brushed against him and shied away, staying just out of reach. That by itself was of great concern. His problems with One For All had always been a result of drawing too much too quickly. He'd never failed to summon its power before now. "Stop! I said stop!"

He spiraled down, literally, though a kaleidoscopic nightmare of beatings, maimings, and blood, all at the hands of Rumi. His Rumi. Izuku tried to rationalize it. The people she fought – no, broke – were very clearly not innocent. Drug pushers, crooked cops, and vigilantes. Gangsters. Even villains.

He had seen her entire life up to this point. He knew what she knew. He relived Rumi memorizing the HPSC justice code. He listened to her thoughts as she chose who to engage, and when, and where, and why. She never threw the first punch. She documented everything meticulously. She was well within the limits of engagement set by the hero commission, but the excessive force… Was it more concerning that, legally speaking, Rumi wasn't out of line? Or was it worse that she was pushing the limits of her legal authority as far as she could to utterly destroy the people, she set herself against?

Should he be more horrified that she was crippling, even paralyzing people in the name of justice and security, or that she could get a medal for what felt like government sponsored villainy?

He watched – emotionally frayed, wishing for numbness – as she slowly rebuilt a decade old relationship with Kurogiri. Watched her help the League of Villains plan the USJ attack. Felt how cornered she felt as she sent damning evidence to Hawks and got radio silence in return. The hopeless fury as she ripped the sink off a wall in a subway bathroom. The grim acceptance as she stepped through the portal.

The tidal wave of bright, brilliant joy she felt when she saw him for the first time in more than a year felt… alien. After everything he'd just seen, he recoiled. Not that it did anything, along for the ride as he was.

Their first kiss. Her stomach fluttered and her fingers shook with nerves. It should have been a happy memory to see. But when he watched that kiss from her eyes, all Izuku could think about was the sensation of a femur snapping under her boot. Did that make him a terrible person?

Did it make Rumi a terrible person?

She was working under the dash of a freight truck, ripping out wires. The whole scene glitched out. A spike of pain hit Izuku. By the time he regained focus, she was driving through a checkpoint. Bullets thudded against the cab of the truck. The radio was screaming.

"Kurogiri, now!" A portal swallowed her and a good chunk of the truck's seat.

Red lights flashed. Steel boots clattered harshly down polished hallways. Shigaraki and Toga slaughtered Shingen troops left and right. There was so much blood. So much death.

Izuku felt sick. It was a small relief that Rumi felt the same. Had felt. She wasn't helping them, but she wasn't stopping the massacre either. Why? Why!?

Another stab of pain, and the scene shifted. The memories themselves were becoming less stable. Splitting apart at the seams, losing detail at the periphery. He couldn't tell if they were in order anymore.

There was a guy with a reptilian quirk looking at her like a lost puppy. Toga, murderous, deranged, and predatory, acting like a normal girl for just a moment. Laughing with Rumi over some silly thing. The oily bite of shame and self-loathing that Rumi felt in that moment was overpowering. A swarm of silvery fish-like drones destroyed everything they passed by.

Gigantomachia.

Black ichor gushing out of her mouth.

Izuku screamed. His skull threatened to burst.

Thick concrete pillars stretched high above, supporting an untold number of city blocks. A massive drainage facility, meant to divert just enough of a raging tsunami to protect the city above. Nothing had permanence. Some pillars flickered between different locations. Some were frozen in time, shattered to pieces with gnarled rebar twisting through the air like lightning, falling eternally. Deep craters formed, vanished, and formed again. Some unseen force eroded the walls, floors, and ceiling, eating great holes through the reinforced concrete, spreading decay. On the other side swirled black nothingness, with the occasional hint of purple vapor.

Izuku looked down at his- at Rumi's arm. It was a bloody stump midway up her bicep. Shredded muscle and shards of bone dangled grotesquely.

He/she/they lunged, kicking off as hard as he/she/they could on the concrete.

All For One

He/she/they ricocheted through a barrage of large rods launched by him. The cause. The source of all this horror. Faster, faster, faster, faster! Izuku/Rumi snarled, leering at death, spurred on by the absolute conviction/rage of a person/hero sacrificing themselves for a better tomorrow/world.

All For One

He/she/they stopped breathing, withdrawing from the world/existence.

"Eh? Oh, how brilliant! You're certainly full of surpri-"

Deku/Mirko flickered back into All For One's perception just when it was too late for him/it to do anything about it. "SMAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!" At damn near half the speed of sound, he/she/they hammered his/her/their size eight steel tipped boot right into the center of All For One's scarred face.

All For One

Death came softly. It was over. Izuku/Rumi watched-

All For One

-branching fingers, razor sharp-

All For One

-surge of/forced-forced-forced quirk activation-

ALL FOR ONE

-nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing-

ALLFORONE

-zuku! Izuku, stop!"

ALLFORONE

"You're killing what's left of her, you have to stop!" Nana Shimura's fist stuck true, drilling into Izuku's left cheek, throwing him to the ground.

The memory thread snapped. Everything vanished. There was nothing but black void, as far as they eye could see. The only thing that stood out from the void was a woman. Nana.

Izuku's chest heaved. His head spun. He wanted to retch but found the lower half of his face bound by swirling blackness. It was heavy, and clingy. Weighing him down, tying him to the floor of this god forsaken realm. He would have gotten up, or tried, but he had no energy. Honestly, what was the point of trying? After all that, what was the point of anything?

Nana crouched, rolling him onto his back gently. "I'm sorry, Izuku." She smiled beautifully, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I couldn't think of any other way to stop you."

He groaned, saying or asking something, he didn't know, but the swirling gag muffled his words completely.

"I know you're hurting, and you're confused, and have so many questions." She combed the hair out of his eyes, softly, like his mother used to do. "But you need to rest. Recover your strength. A brush with All For One, even second hand, is taxing in the extreme."

The familiar feelings washed over the decaying bond between himself and Rumi. Trust. Hope. Warmth.

She kept playing with his hair, humming softly every so often.

Izuku's eyes felt so heavy. He wanted to curl into a ball and sleep forever.

"Rumi isn't gone, not completely. She's here. With me. Though, I suppose you can't see her. I don't fully understand what's happening, but I swear to you, we'll figure it out." Nana's voice was so soothing. Low and caring. Soft. Kind. "Together."

Izuku closed his eyes.

"Just focus on getting stronger, and never lose your smile, Izuku."

Izuku woke sluggishly. Peeling his eyes open he saw the familiar white drop ceiling in Recovery Girl's infirmary. He still wore his UA gym uniform. The lights were comfortably dimmed.

His mothers soft snoring caught his attention. She sat in a chair beside his bed, resting her head on the edge of his mattress.

"You're awake. Glad to see it." All Might's skeletal body occupied a chair on the other side of the bed.

"All Might," Izuku croaked, "what happened?"

His mentor frowned, wearily rubbing his hands together as though they ached. "You suffered a seizure during your match against Young Bakugo. You've been unconscious since. It's been," He turned to look at a clock on the wall, "a few hours. Four or so." All Might leaned forward, equal parts concerned parent and veteran hero. "I was hoping you could answer your own question. Something happened. Something with One For All. I felt it, and I think you did too, Young Midoriya."

Izuku carefully pushed himself upright, careful not to disturb his mother. "I…" The groggy feeling was fading quickly. Reality came through more clearly as the clock ticked. He wished he was still asleep once he realized. He bunched up the blanket in his fists. One For All crackled for a fraction of a second before he reigned it in. He was sad, and scared, and tired, and so unbelievably angry. "All Might. You've changed my life in so many ways, and I'll always be grateful that you chose me to succeed you," he said thickly, "Believe me… but… I can't… I will not work with you any further unless you answer me honestly. Here and now." A rattling breath left him. He knew he was crying now, and for the first time he didn't really care who saw it. Maybe he was out of line, but part of him felt justified. For All Might to omit the existence of All For One when he offered his power... It didn't feel fair. He was certain that All Might had his reasons, and he was certain they were good reasons, but Izuku didn't want to think about things logically right now. He needed to do something. He needed to find Rumi, to find some way to fix this nightmare.

All Might laced his fingers together, steeling himself. He knew, somehow, what was to come.

Izuku stared down All Might, his hero, the hero of heroes. "Who, or what is All For One, and how do we stop him? Permanently."