I remember when All for One started, better than anyone else.

It wasn't in an office, when I chose to rip the quirk out of a man, as some rumors said. The same rumors that spoke of me as a man that is nothing but evil. I suppose they aren't wrong about one of those things.

Nor was it when I started to build an empire, for one reason and one reason only.

No, in the end, I suppose no one knows. That knowledge is lost to the world, and even I can only guess as to when it all started.

Fire was raging all around me, as my father tried and failed to fight against the unstoppable behemoth only known as Surtr.

My father, bless his soul, was never a kind man, but he tried for me and my brother. He knew that leaving the life he once lived would have consequences, but he did it anyway, because he knew that staying would lead to something far worse happening to me and Yoshito.

Revenge, he always said, made the world go around. Everything you do is something you do as revenge, again and again, until eventually someone took revenge on you.

That is the world that rose with quirks, one with no mercy for those who lagged behind. Growth, that is what you must aim for, he said.

In that fire I took my first quirk, and took the first step towards becoming All for One, the Symbol of Evil. The first step on my journey of revenge.

Fire and smoke crawled it's way out of my mouth as I smiled, but burning that man didn't bring Yoshito back. I would have to take him back myself.

Maybe All for One was made on that journey, the journey to saving a brother.

Was it my followers, I wonder?

Was it them, who used the scraps of power they held to hurt and take revenge the moment I gave those scraps to them, that taught me that for every good person in the world, there are thousands vile ones, so why even bother?

Was it them, who taught me the lesson of humans? Those that took the hand of the devil, who sold their soul for revenge, that taught me that once I start, I never leave.

Was it the killings, where I disregarded my morals again and again to do the dirty work of others, for those same scraps of power that I granted to my followers?

The cults, the devotion was necessary, I told myself. Only the most loyal could be allowed to exist. Only the ones that will, the moment they see my brother, bring him to me, no matter what it costs them.

I wonder, now, if it was?

I stood before Sartr, and I wonder who Goliath is anymore. Am I the David of this story? Or am I Goliath now?

But even so, he burns, but it doesn't do much more than make him smile.

It will do so much more.

He plays with fire, sending waves and torrents of it towards me, and it does nothing as it washes over me, as the people around us cry, trapped inside basements and apartements, as the heat starts rising.

But it wouldn't end with that, no, as I make the city dance to my tune, an army to crush this giant.

Streets buckle, bend and rise, turning into walls of spikes as houses turn into the teeth of gaping maws that bite down on what was once an unstoppable opponent.

And I know now, that the roles have changed, now he is hiding, now he is running, as the city itself swallows him with teeth and gaping maws, and thousands of hands.

All that remains in the end is an arm.

An arm and my brother.

My brother... doesn't see things the way I do. All he sees is lunatics (that's what your followers are, a voice that sounds like me but far too young whisper) where I see loyal and caring friends.

But.. He is my brother. He is my brother and I have to protect him, and I will not fail that.

So I leave, not telling him anything as my followers fall out of favor, and eventually contact. And then the house burns down, and I rescue my brother by the skin of my teeth.

A heartbroken sister breathes fire into my face, and I realize that I can never leave this path of revenge, this path that only ends evil.

So I embrace it, becoming the symbol of evil.

Even as my brother dies, I continue. I continue because I must, because when I stop I am no longer the symbol of evil, and then what would I be?

Nothing, but another corpse.

So I make emperors, kings of good and bad, and then I tear them down for a little more power.

I build temples for gods that I raise to the top before tearing down, for just a little more power.

I tighten and loosen my grip on the world over and over, to let power grow, and then to reap the rewards others had sewn (and deserved).

One for All is nothing but a nusiance, a tool that slips out of my hands again and again, but it matters little to me, because I had a thousand other tools.

And at some point, I become All for One. One goal, one I can never stop following. Growth.

And then One for All become more than just that. A blone child runs away with it to America, and I can't leave Japan.

The moment I do more, so much more, will burn. Maybe even I will burn, this time.

Quirks grow stronger and stronger, each generation, and eventually I would lose.

I would fall behind in an arms race I never noticed before it was too late, but then One for All enters the picture. A tool that will grow, faster and faster.

A tool that will win me this arms race, the moment it is in my hands.

But... it was out of reach, hidden in America. I would have to fight against every other villain and hero at once before I could leave Japan.

So I sat and waited, hoping that the tool would be brought into my waiting hands, as I built more and more weapons to ensure that no one would ever take revenge upon me.

And it is then I met her. A green haired slip of a woman, and as I spent time with her I wondered if I was in love.

As I found out later, as I held a small green haired boy in my arms, no, I was simply normal once more.

"Let me hold him," she said, exhuasted, and it took everything in me to not kill her there and then, only the fact that she brought this gift into the world stopping me.

SCENEBREAKSCENEBREAKSCENEBREAKSCENEBREAKSCENEBREAK

Tomura Shigaraki will be a replacement, a pawn that will take the final fall of All for One.

And then I fall victim to it, revenge. A blonde man screaming in rage as I rip his stomach open and he responds by crushing my head, I fall victim to this cycle.

I wonder, is it because I tried to leave? Is it because I, like my father before, wanted to not be a symbol of evil.

I will never know.

Shigaraki will, whether he likes it or not, become the next me, as I stay alive only with wires and tubes running through me.

And then I fail, again and again, to kill that blond buffon.

And so I sit here, staying alive on a chair of stone as my body fails itself more and more, forcing me to use more and more of the few quirks I could use at any time to cling to life.

And so, I die slowly in the darkness, as the last sensory quirk falls from my still fingers, and I smile mockingly, pretending it never happened.

How I wish you never got that quirk, that curse. Without it, I might have been able to care for you, to help you.

But now, as you show that you can use quirk after quirk with ease, without crashing and falling I know what has to be done.

I did it with ease on Shigaraki, despite his hatred.

Your body will be mine, a replacement for this failing husk.

"You're..."

But I had a child like you once, right?

I can simply replace you with another.

"Next."

Right?

Despite sitting in the most comfortable chair that can be designed, and with the best life support that can be offered, I still feel far worse than in tartarus, where the life support slowly killed me.