Izuku avoided Mirio for the following days. Just looking at the boy was enough to make him uncomfortable; and that wasn't even including the embarrassment from losing control. Izuku had broken the rules, and therefore lost the match, even as he pinned Mirio with ease. It wasn't the loss that frustrated him, but the meaning. He'd lost control and he needed additional help. It didn't matter that Mirio had years on him in training; Izuku felt it. He could've won without Blackwhip, if only he hadn't lost control.

Nighteye had been dedicating most of their time to Mirio. Even as the winner of their bout, Izuku could tell the training was a sort of consolation prize. He wasn't enthused or quick with him, nor was he trying his hardest to teach. The instructions he gave Mirio were excellent regardless, however. The boy spent more naked than clothed, and even over the course of a handful of days, Izuku could see progress.

On the first day, Nighteye had him drilling for speed. He'd taken too many wide openers, he'd said, and that meant he needed to increase his reaction time. Setsuna had answered the call, then, testing Permeation's speed with her quick telekinetic punches. Izuku declined to assist. Over the course of only a few hours, however, he showed remarkable improvement. What once took him a second to pull off now took him a fraction.

It was here Izuku realized what a sponge Mirio was. Even looking back on their fight, he'd dominated with his own quirk, even as the older boy got in good shots. Izuku'd done everything in his power to undermine and counter his quirk, yet Mirio had come out the victor. Perhaps Izuku had struggled to pace himself towards the end, but still; Mirio had watched him, learned from him, and eventually overpowered and outmaneuvered him.

Izuku watched as Mirio ducked beneath the floorboards, popping out in Nighteye's instructed places. Even now, with such a volatile and physics-altering technique, he was improving at a rapid pace. A frown tugged at his chin as Blackwhip fluttered around him, curious in his idleness.

Blackwhip would do as he says, so long as commanded it to move. The relationship was much like a dog and its master, but Izuku was no dog-whisperer, and Blackwhip was no loyal pup. Tightening his grip, he urged half the tentacles to pick up some dumbbells, and the other half to work together on a couple of barbells. Izuku didn't have much use for barbells, but he made it work; collaborative projects like that were the lifeblood of the quirk's training.

So long as they kept moving, they bent the knee to him. It wasn't ideal, but it was all he could manage at the moment. It took a tremendous amount of concentration to keep them from going off on their own, picking up random things or chucking what they already held. He was beyond simply picking things up though, and forced himself to move. After all, what good was an archer who could only shoot standing still? In his focus, however, he might've drifted a bit too close to Nighteye.

Mirio flashed beside him in all his naked glory, startling Izuku out of control. All around him, the heavy plates and bars thudded against the ground. Each dropped weight echoed around the warehouse like a thunderbolt, drawing everyone's eyes to him. Mirio looked sheepish.

"Sorry for startling you, man." He said, pulling his pants up to his waist.

"No, it's my bad." Izuku said, backpedaling as Blackwhip picked up its mess and followed him.

Izuku kept to himself for the rest of the day, only communicating with Setsuna via text.

The third day after Mirio and Izuku's spar, Mirio didn't train in the gym. Nighteye had taken him on a patrol, leaving Izuku alone with Gran Torino for the day. It should've released the weight in his gut, but it only made that stone feel a little heavier.

Even exercise did little to elevate his mood; the adrenaline just didn't give him enough dopamine that day. When Izuku finished his squats, stretches, and run on the Course, he found himself sitting beside Torino, empty minded. He picked at the skin on his stub, not bored, but close to it. The area where his tricep used to be felt like ants were crawling over it.

"What's 1Z?" Izuku asked, not looking at the older man. Gran Torino paused from his drink, raising an eyebrow at him. Wiping his red lips with the back of his hand, the older man sighed, leaning into his chair.

"U.A.'s doing somethin' new this year. Guess they want more child soldiers or sumn'. From what I've heard, it's the highest tier of class they offer for the hero course. Apprentices only, the best of the best the country's got."

"So… me, Set, and Shoto?"

"Endeavor's brat? Yeah, you lot. Can't think of stronger kids."

What should've been a pleasant compliment tasted sour on his tongue.

"Mirio is stronger. Has more talent, too. Have you seen his new movements? He could've thrashed me if he had that precision during our spar."

"And you could've pulverized him if you used Blackwhip from the beginning; or unlocked float, or super strength, or any other crap One for All has in store for you. Not to mention he's not even a kid. He's a young man. A deprived one, at that."

Izuku wasn't quite sure what to say. He supposed it was true, but that didn't make it any better. He'd had Blackwhip for two years, and he still barely could keep a lid on it. Mirio seemed like he was mastering his quirk overnight.

"...Deprived? He seems pretty vigorous to me."

"I think you're under the wrong impression, here. Togata isn't some super learning prodigy, he's a dry sponge. U.A. is great, but it ain't perfect. It may churn out the best heroes, but that doesn't mean it's got the best teachers. Those guys know how to make rough diamonds shine, but they struggle with forging raw iron into good steel. The reason he's improving so much is because he finally has someone who can actually help him. Just 'cause he's learning faster than you now doesn't mean he's always like that. You have your own ups and downs, don'tcha?"

Izuku's eyes were burrowing holes into the floor. Ups and downs was one way to put it. The itching feeling spread, covering his phantom elbow and forearm. Flakes of dry skin were coming off under his fingernails where he scratched at his stub.

"How fast did… did Eight master One for All?" Izuku asked, the words falling out of his mouth faster than he could close it. Gran Torino froze. It was like his casual demeanor melted off his skin as he stood, walking around to face him. Each movement was solid and mechanical, even as he left his cane behind. Like rust flaking off a bike once the chain started spinning, the man who looked down on him now felt sleeker, sturdier. Like a surge of memories had eroded the years off him in waves.

"Counter question, brat. How fast do you think Mr. Togata could do it?"

Izuku's eyes shot wide as he staggered to his feet, backing up. That stone in his stomach ballooned outward, crushing his organs against his ribs and muscles.

"I-I—I d-don't—"

"You think we don't see it, too? We may not have been on speaking terms, but I knew Toshinori for decades before you were even born. Nighteye grew up in his glow, and was closer with him than any mundane sidekick would've been. Even Setsuna, who among us never even had the chance to meet him, can see it."

Izuku's lips opened and closed, but no sound came out. He continued.

"You'd have to be blind not to, you know. Bright, full of life... Really kid, I'm not blaming you. It's obvious to anyone who looks at him."

"...What is?" Izuku asked, mumbling. He already knew.

"That warm nostalgia. Have you heard his dream?"

Izuku shook his head; he hadn't talked to the guy much.

"He wants to save a million people. Even named himself after it. Lemillion. He's still working on the epithet, though."

Izuku stared at the man, shocked. His knuckles shook a bit, unnerved at the boy's apparent resolution. All the thoughts in his head flew back in time, remembering how he'd put everything on the line to save… what? Like ten people? The effort hospitalized him for weeks over just that few.

He looked at his hand, his one remaining hand, and wondered for a moment if it'd be enough. All Might had saved millions over the decades; that much was certain. Perhaps billions, if you counted hypothetical lives that would've been lost without him. With his strength, nothing could've stopped him. Had All Might wished for it, he could've done it all with a hand tied behind his back; so why was Izuku feeling that loss so hard right now? That empty, cumbersome weight of nothing that sucked at his shoulder like a leech. That dull itch that raced under his skin like static shock, yearning for freedom. That awkward balance, that uncontrollable power, that weakness in his flesh that made him want to explode.

Had Izuku been All Might, it would've been easy. Get shredded, learn to fight, stop crime. A three step process; streamlined and easier done than said. He imagined golden hair falling around his shoulders, thick, corded muscles wrapping his frame like a suit just as the darkest alleyways glowed blue under his vigilance. Shotguns and assault rifles tickling his stomach, just as he shielded a hundred citizens with his right arm and stopped a hundred criminals with his left.

His imagination ran wild. In these visions, his strength was a thousandfold what he'd ever hoped for, his powers fluid and easy to call upon. He clouded entire evil lairs, sensing out danger across cities, snatching up every villain in one big tentacled swoop. And at last, when the only man strong enough to challenge him stepped up, he needn't worry.

All for One's smile was bright, his destroyed face whole once again as he pulled a fist back. A thousand stolen quirks compiled for the penultimate strike, the speed of the punch blurring somewhere between the speed of sound and light. Even still, the wielder of One for All didn't even budge. It ripped through his chest, yet All for One's smile fell apart as his hand came back bloodless and seamless.

And when Nine threw the ultimate smash of his life into All for One's face, he didn't bother with avoiding his block. His fist phased through it, connecting with his perfect chin like a nuclear missile. The thought, while glorious in a bubble, felt like poison as it spread in his mind.

"...His spirit is exceptional. Perfect." Izuku said, his voice dry as bark.

Gran Torino shrugged.

"You could say that. Things like that aren't universal, though." He replied; but Izuku wasn't finished.

"His physique is far beyond mine."

"Not relatively. You're probably more fit than he was at fourteen."

"He's older, and'll be out on the field sooner."

"Being in 1Z will make you better equipped when you start, though."

"He's a better natural fighter."

"You knocked him down just as much as he did you, even though he's a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier."

"He's got better quirk control."

"Not from where I stand. You blew him out of the water with Smokescreen."

"...He's getting better way faster than I am."

"You have far more to learn than he does. Mastering two quirks requires exponentially more energy than mastering one. You have three with more to come."

The stone in his gut was shifting, growing hot. Izuku worked his jaw as the next words spilled out, annoyance building up.

"...He was born with a good quirk… I'm adding nothing to the legacy."

Torino shifted, giving Izuku a hard look. There was a glint in his eyes that he couldn't quite decipher.

"If you really want to give it to him, why haven't you? The decision's always been up to you."

It was like a truck hitting him at full throttle. Izuku slumped back down in his seat, exhaling all his anxieties.

"I-I don't know. I don't want to… I just feel like—"

"Then don't."

A beat of silence.

"Why?"

"A hundred reasons. A thousand, maybe. Who did All Might entrust it to?"

"...The only person he could."

"And that's where you're wrong. To him, he'd effectively killed his nemesis; hell, I would've believed so too if I smashed that bastard's brains in. There was no reason to just hand off One for All. Its job was done. Why would he risk passing it along to someone when the world didn't need it anymore?"

"He m-might've known t-that he wasn't dead for real. He might've panicked."

Gran Torino said nothing for a moment, mulling that over. Izuku watched as that youthful vigor he'd assumed crusted over with age, his withered form hunching as he started speaking again.

"I've never asked this once, and I will never ask again. How did Toshi look when he died?"

It wasn't like how it'd used to be. Izuku wasn't teleported back to the moment; iron wasn't the only thing he could smell, nor helicopter blades the only thing he could hear. The images had an odd haze around the edges, time having stolen portions of the memory's strength. Still, the visceral horror he once felt crept up his spine, the nightmares under his eyelids reminding him every time he blinked. He swallowed his spit, the saliva going down his throat like a golf ball.

Instead of hiding from it, however, this time he let himself hover, remembering. All Might. Blood. EMTs. All for One. All Might.

He remembered his ears popping as All Might delivered the finishing blow. How his glorious smile had faded into that of a grin, choked with blood. The memories flew overhead like clouds, obvious, vast, and untouchable. Each felt bigger than anything he'd ever seen, yet there were a thousand in the heaven of his brain.

His gentle hand in Izuku's own; the ragged, but accepting rise and fall of his chest. His dim eyes filled with a small satisfaction. It was like Izuku was a sponge, and the memories were wringing out his water through his eyes. All Might hadn't known. In the real world, his fingertips traced the path of his spontaneous tears, curious at the sensation.

Maybe Five was talking to him, but Izuku couldn't hear him. One for All churned as always, each wave purposeful.

"He was… almost satisfied. He'd completed his goal, and his only regret was not passing on the power. He made me… swear an oath. Of honor. Then he fed me his blood. Told me he believed in me. And died smiling."

Gran Torino listened, still and silent as Izuku choked out the words. It was like by telling him, it relaxed some eternal intensity that Izuku'd never noticed, allowing his shoulders to sag.

"Years ago, when we first started teaching you, you were holding onto the quirk like a lifevest. Yet after all that turmoil, you think it'd be best to give it up?"

"Until now, I hadn't seen anyone worth considering it. Livewire was just a faceless name to me. But Mirio? Lemillion? With One for All, he could be a great hero."

"He's already going to be one."

"But he could be invincible! Imagine my varied quirks, Eight's strength, and his Permeation! He'd be… he'd be the perfect Pillar for a new age of peace, sir. And I… I don't think I could measure up to that."

"Did you know that Toshinori was quirkless?"

Izuku's jaw fell open.

"N-no, I don't believe I did…"

"Well, he was. He was also a scrawny idealist. No power to back it up. An absolute wiener. Don't you think he considered giving the power to another hero with a better quirk? What could've stopped him in those early years, when his power was little and his skill even less?"

"I…"

"Sheer. Fuckin'. Will. The same thing that stopped him from passing it on as he got older. He never saw the point, because he couldn't think of anyone that worked harder than him."

"But he passed it on to me?"

"And he passed it on to you. I'm not no fuckin' therapist, kid, but let me tell you somethin'. Toshinori was brutally honest. He knew his way around the world, and it was like his eyes could cut through your own, right to your soul. A million kids asked him if they could be like him, and he turned 'em all down, pointing their way down a different, more suitable path. If he allowed the greatest power of the world to fall into your hands, giving you his blessing all the while, then I'd take that as a fuckin' honor."

"...I do. But—" His voice was small.

"Then you should know that all the holders had two things in common. For one, they were selfless, good hearted heroes. Not a single one of them had a shred of evil in their bones, even if some of the earlier ones were rough around the edges. As for the second…" He said, turning away from Izuku, "was a massive fuckin' ego. You can't fight an eternal, undying evil without having balls of steel."

"But I don't—"

"Ego may sound counterintuitive to selflessness, but you need to be a certain type of demented to dedicate your life in service to others. It's hard, it's scary, and it's draining beyond hell. You have to believe in your own hype to be of any use, and that even went for All Might. He might not have been perfect, but—"

"I don't have an arm! I'm just… I'm just wasting your time with guys like Mirio running around!"

And with that, the fear was out in the open, staining the air with its stench. Gran Torino turned to him, slow and mechanical. A small shock grew over his face, his brow furrowed and lips parted. It was the first time he'd ever seemed grandfatherly, even over the four years he'd known him. It all came snowballing out, now that he'd said the worst of it.

"I-I've been stuck on Float for years! I was out of commission for months just because Danger Sense was overloading me… I almost choked to death the first time Smokescreen activated… I can't manage Blackwhip… I've still got more quirks to learn of, let alone unlock…" Izuku said, pausing to cough into his elbow. "And on top of it all, the cherry of failure on this freaking cake of disappointment, I can't even use the superstrength! That should've been the one thing, the one-fucking-thing, that I couldn't mess up."

Gran Torino only stared at him in shock as the rant dragged on. Izuku paid him no mind as he shuffled over to his original seat, grabbing something.

"I'm lopsided, a terrible student… I don't even have an original quirk to fall back on—" He never saw the cane coming as it thwacked against his ear, knocking him out of his chair. The pain exploding across his head almost drowned out the man's next words.

"When did you become such a sissy? Just because you saw someone who might make a better hero than you, you fumble? Falling apart at inadequacy is unacceptable. You're too young to give up now, you moron. Who's to say you won't be a hundred times the hero Mr. Togata is by the time you're his age?"

"I-I—" Izuku tried starting, only for the wracking pain in his head to twist his tongue over itself. Swallowing hard, he got to his feet, nursing his head. "Mirio would've been the perfect candidate. He's already just like All Might! He'd be better, with that power!" Danger Sense exploded as the cane rocketed past the tip of his nose, his perfect dodge the only thing saving the cartilage.

"Damnit, son! Who knocked your senses loose? There's no such thing as a perfect candidate! The power is only what you can make of it; to trust the power to anyone but yourself is admitting you're not good enough, and would Nana entrust her quirk to someone who wasn't worthy?"

A burst of bitterness welled up in Izuku's gut, drowning out his misery and loosening his tongue even further.

"...If One for All is Mjolnir, then it's pretty obvious I can't lift it. I don't even have the barest hint of All Might's strength. Mirio could; he's practically All Might's son."

"Oh, like Girlie called you that one time?" Gran Torino said, forcing Izuku's jaws closed. He opened them for a retort, but only air came out, no words. His cheeks felt warm.

"T-that was a total misunderstanding…"

"Well, it makes sense." He replied, planting the butt of his cane against the floor.

"W-what? No, that was just a random thought that slipped out."

"Doubt it. Girlie's always seen the best in you, kid. But that doesn't mean she's the only one. If you know that we all see Mirio's greatness, then you gotta acknowledge that we all see yours, too."

Gran Torino settled back into his chair, not looking at Izuku. That small warmth on his cheeks grew, flushed with fresh blood.

"W-what?" He asked, feeling like a balloon expanded in his chest. Torino grunted, a slight annoyance audible over his tone.

"Don't make me spell it out, kid. Let an old man have some dignity."

"B-but I don't…"

"Gods above, kid." Gran said, sighing. "You're exceptional. You're bright, honest, hardworking, and talented. In that, you are no worse than Togata. But that isn't it. Do you think Nighteye would bend over backwards for a mere exceptional child? To make the world wait for someone who was just "great?"

The air was turning stale in Izuku's lungs.

"You're more than just a good candidate, Midoriya. You have the capacity to be a key."

His lungs fought him as he spoke, unable to intake any new breath under the sudden pressure.

"...A key to what?" Izuku asked, his voice just above an exhale. Gran Torino shrugged.

"Anything you want. Even as you are, stunted and broken, you might be able to change the world. That's the kind of power you hold in your hands. But what's more important than the power is the wielder, and in that role, there is no one better. Mirio is as close as we've ever seen, but even he lacks what you have in spades."

"...I still don't understand. There isn't a single thing that I have that he doesn't have more of. What could I possibly have over him?"

Gran Torino was still looking away from him.

"The answer would be different coming from anyone. Me? I'd call that seventh element of yours Urgency. Nighteye might call it Heft. I couldn't be fucked trying to read a teenage girl's mind, but even she'd have a name for it, if pushed."

He didn't stop there, only pausing to wet his drying throat. Gran didn't usually talk so much.

"Mirio is an easy read, you know. Bright, strong, with a good head on his shoulders. But he's cautious in a way you never are. He's confident and self sacrificial, but calling him brave would be wrong. He's dutiful. He's dedicated to the profession, and wants to save a million people to prove it. A million is a substantial, borderline impossible number, yet…"

Words felt weird on his tongue, like he was speaking with a different mouth.

"Yet what?"

Gran Torino coughed into his fist, rising to his feet.

"Yet your goal isn't to just save a million people, is it? You want to help everyone."

With that, the old man walked away, escaping with only his cane for company. Izuku remained sitting, shocked, and could only watch as Torino turned the corner and left the complex, shutting off the lights beforehand. Right before darkness settled over the facility, however, Izuku saw it.

A faint blush marred the old man's cheeks.

[x]

He couldn't do it the next day. Nighteye was all over Mirio, correcting his form, drafting up at-home exercises, theorizing about his quirk, putting every effort towards Mirio. It seemed their patrol had gone well, given the man's sudden urgency. Izuku would rather not admit that he couldn't even bring himself to interrupt their breaks, however. At several points in the day, Mirio would be sitting alone, rehydrating on his break.

Izuku would hover around him, though he avoided Mirio's line of sight like he had a death glare. He found himself getting close, but when he tried to grab his attention, the words would turn to sand in his throat. Their bodies just felt like polar twins, the magnetic field between them always propelling them in opposite directions.

When he wasn't drilling his own quirk, his phone was in his hand. Setsuna texting between her classes kept him occupied; though they came few and far inbetween. Her last year of middle school was busier than any other, and neither of them wanted her too distracted.

It was an odd time. With Setsuna in school, Nighteye drilling a different guy, and Gran too embarrassed to talk to his face, Izuku found himself adrift in the warehouse. His workout already finished, he just meandered around, trying out the machines he didn't touch often. He hung by the hook of his toes, tried leg presses, and even grabbed a jumprope before realizing how stupid that was.

When the session was over and he still couldn't bring himself to talk to Mirio, he made a resolution. If he didn't find the courage tomorrow, his last day with them, then he'd do something crazy.

What crazy was, he couldn't say; a thousand situps in a week? Pull a prank on Setsuna? Either way, not something he wanted to happen.

The next morning, he walked into the warehouse fully prepared. He'd taken careful observations of Mirio and Nighteye as they worked, and during a lull in his instruction, Izuku would slip in. It was the perfect plan.

But when he took his first steps in, Nighteye wasn't there; nor was Gran Torino. Across the wide, open floor plan of the facility, only a single body stood amongst the machinery.

Mirio waved him down, jogging over with evident confusion on his face.

"Hey, have you seen Sir? What about the older guy? They're nowhere to be found." He said, coming to a stop. It was automatic, the way Izuku bit his lip and stepped back; he didn't mean anything by it. To Mirio, however, that didn't matter. His eyes widened as he too stepped back, giving him space. "S-sorry. Forgot."

Izuku's eyes widened.

"H-huh? N-no, you're fine." Izuku said, forcing himself to step forward. "I actually don't know either. You got Dangerous Places?"

Izuku pulled out his phone for emphasis. Mirio nodded, mirroring him as he opened up the active hero news map. Together, they both gasped as the top story revealed a dozen odd heroes easing civilians into ambulances, fires burning in the background.

"Holy hell…" Mirio said, to which Izuku bobbed his head.

"Damn. Another bomb? Is that the fourth this year?"

"Yeah… Sir's on the front page again. Wait, is that little yellow guy Gran?" Mirio asked, turning the phone around. If it wasn't for the man covered in grime and soot, he might've laughed. His suit stood out horribly in the grim setting.

"Wow… they're both there? Must've been serious." Izuku said, looking around. Half the lights weren't on; Mirio must've only lit the ones at the entrance. Going over to the hidden panel across the building, he flipped on the rest, highlighting the gym area. Mirio watched him like an owl, his face never moving from Izuku's own.

Izuku stood on the precipice of the weight wrack, digging his foot into the floor. The words stuck in his throat; he could only hope the way his eyes flicked between his senior and the weights conveyed the right message.

The blonde looked between him and weights for a few seconds, a blank expression clouding his eyes. Exasperated at his own weak communication, he forced himself to nod his head in the weights direction, looking into the boy's eyes. It was like a lightbulb went off above his head, understanding dawning in his face.

They were silent as they changed, and that silence remained even as they began. For Mirio, it was a leg day, while Izuku was in the middle of a pull day. Izuku was a poor spotter for squats most times, but with Blackwhip, he kept the older boy steady even as he began lifting closer and closer to his PB.

Mirio gave him an odd look as Blackwhip whirled around him when they finished, no longer under any direction. Izuku coaxed them to fetch him one of his preferred dumbbells; twenty kilos was way out of his league, but the fifteens were good for warming up.

Rows were easy, but Mirio still stood nearby incase Izuku dropped anything. Blackwhip held him in place, since he couldn't hold himself without an arm. Towards the end of a set, Izuku felt a shiver run down his back where one of the whips sprouted.

Pausing mid row, Izuku turned to Mirio, who looked like a kid caught awake past his bedtime, a single finger brushing the whip. Without thinking, he let his control of that particular whip loose, allowing it to do whatever.

It smacked Mirio across the nose, as if offended by the touch. He yelped, stepping back just as Izuku laughed.

"Don't touch it without its consent, man. Rule number one."

Mirio cringed, but managed to bark out a laugh anyway. He was good at rolling with punches, Izuku thought. Well, he already knew that, given the first hand experience.

"My bad, guy. What's rule number two? Don't rub its belly?" Mirio retorted. This time, Izuku was the one who found himself laughing. He repped out one more row before having a whip restock the dumbbell. Stretching, he let the burn simmer before ordering a different whip to grab his water.

"Basically. These things do whatever they want if they aren't actively commanded. Makes them hard to control, since I don't always want them to do something. If they activate while I'm distracted… Well, you saw what happened. I-I guess I'm trying to say sorry about that. Really. I should've had more control."

"Hey, hey, it's no problem. I shouldn't have suckerpunched you; I thought you were still in the moment."

"You had no way of knowing I was trying to hold these guys back, though. The blame still falls onto me."

"...Alright, fair enough. When they first grabbed me, I almost pissed myself. I'd been wondering what Gran meant by "ropes". Crazy that you were holding out on me the whole freaking fight. You kids are amazing."

"No, no. What's crazy is how much you've improved since then. I'm basically the same, while you're like, twice as good."

Mirio seemed to dim a bit at that, like it saddened him.

"Yeah, well… My second year hasn't been super kind to me so far. I'm pretty good, but I'm definitely the oddball of the class. No one really knows how to handle me. I'm so glad Sir decided to take me on; the guy's really putting me through it. I appreciate the hell outta it."

"Agreed. He's a hardass and a manipulator, but I couldn't imagine a better mentor. He's been teaching me since I was ten."

"No wonder you're such a monster. Even… without the arm, you had me on the backfoot more than once. It's a godsend to have such a proficient man working with you when your quirk is so… strange."

Izuku didn't say anything for a moment. The conversation itself was simple, yet freeing. He'd been so worked up since their spar that he'd almost missed this; this warmth, this easygoing joy that Mirio radiated. The muscles of his face pulled upwards, just below that of a smile.

"The arm isn't off limits, by the way. It's fine to talk about; I lost it when my quirk awakened, if you were curious."

Mirio's eyebrows shot up, surprised.

"Oh!? If my genes manifested any differently, unphasing inside objects would've obliterated me. I got lucky; my cousin lost a hand when she was five, so I can sympathize. What, uh, happened to you?" He asked, his voice full of hesitance. Izuku appreciated his thoughtfulness, though it wasn't his questioning that was making his gut squeeze. He still couldn't quite see it, that quality in himself that apparently made him such a good Ninth. His nub itched. In his peripherals, Five grew into existence.

"Well… my quirk is weird; I think you noticed." Izuku said, to which Mirio nodded. "You saw the smoke, and obviously the tentacles… think of them like side effects. My real power is having a lot of energy, which fuels my superstrength. The other things are just unique ways I can manipulate that energy."

The blond's reaction was quiet, but even Izuku could see how the cogs were twisting in his brain, the teeth not quite biting.

"Wait… superstrength?"

"Yeah. Like, ultra-superstrength. Like the bench-pressing-buildings superstrength.. You know how I called us all finesse and technique?"

"Uhm, yeah?"

"I kinda lied. I should be a powerhouse-type, but the first time I ever…tested it out, well…" Izuku said, gesturing to his nub. Mirio put a hand to his mouth, scandalized.

"No way…"

"Yeah. Now, I can't even find it within myself to try again. It just… doesn't come when I ask. The extra powers are great and all… but I'm basically defective."

They lapsed into silence, lost in their own thoughts. Izuku felt apprehensive, wondering what Mirio would say. He knew that the guy wouldn't just spit on his shoes and leave, but whether his reaction would be good or bad was still debatable.

He wasn't sure what he wanted to hear. The small, weaker part of him wanted Mirio to scorn him, to complain about not having such a power himself. That weaker part wanted to pull away the curtain, to reveal the fact that, yes actually, he CAN have such a power himself.

The other part, the portion born from the conversation with Gran Torino, his seventh element, held fast. It was like his head was tearing itself apart as anxiety crept up his spine.

Before his thoughts could begin drifting, however, a hand pressed against his shoulder, calming him. It wasn't warm; it wasn't flesh and blood, despite how realistic it appeared.

"Relax, kid. Look; the guy's about to say something." Five said, pointing one of his thick fingers in Mirio's direction. Following its direction, Izuku realized that the boy seemed to be building himself up for something, his lips pursed. Only when it seemed like the boy was about to burst did he speak, flooding Izuku's ears like a broken dam.

"I've been thinking about you a lot, since our spar. It just… boggled my mind how competent you were. I figured our fight must've been a daydream, or you were some super prodigy in the flesh; but I think I get you now. You're not some demigod, or some hallucination… you're just… really cool. I was worried I pissed you off, after our spar."

Izuku tried to reply, but the surprise in his throat stole the air out of his lungs.

"You avoiding me and stuff kinda hurt my feelings, but I can kinda figure why now. You just felt bad about throwing me around when you lost control, right? Keeping your cool and staying in control is important."

A flush spread across Izuku's cheeks as he swallowed down some lifesaving air. He hadn't thought that Mirio had noticed.

"I—Uhm, well… Kind've? I might've avoided you a little… but it wasn't exactly… because I went loose on you…" Izuku said, ducking his chin into his chest. He wanted nothing more than to just stare at the floor and evaporate, never wanting to meet Mirio's eyes again. There was nothing he could do to stop Five, however, when he lifted Izuku's chin for him.

Mirio looked a little surprised, embarrassment stricken across his face. Izuku couldn't blame him, this was really weird. He tasted the next words on his lips, and found them almost edible.

"I… just got to thinking about my quirk. I can't use my strength, I'm missing an arm, I'm barely proficient with any of the abilities I do have… I just wondered… what if—and I know this is impossible, but I just imagined what it would be like if you had my quirk instead. You seem so… pleasant and talented, that I couldn't imagine using my own power better than you could."

Mirio barked out a laugh.

Izuku stayed dead silent. The older boy paused, looking scandalized.

"Wait, you're serious?" He asked, his eyes roaming Izuku's for the joke. Izuku nodded, though the motion took a thousand years. Mirio just blinked for a few seconds, flabbergasted.

"I—wow. That's not something I've thought about for years. I-I guess I can see your point; I'm older, I'm a little bigger, and I've got a little talent under my belt… But I think you're wrong." Mirio said, firm and full of a confidence surprised him.

"Really?" He asked; Mirio nodded, a clear conviction in his eyes.

"Yeah. No offense, but I've got my hands full with what I've got. If I sprouted sentient tentacles and farted clouds, I think my head would pop like a balloon." He said, forcing a chortle out of Izuku. "Plus, if there's one piece of advice that got me through my first year of U.A., it's something my dad once told me."

Izuku leaned, intrigued and silent. Mirio's chest seemed to puff up when he brought up his dad, a fun smile plastering itself over his lips. He put his hands out in a performative manner, clearing his throat for the quote.

"No one is better at using your power than yourself. Someone might be able to teach you, to guide you to be better, but you are the only master of your power. It didn't click for me at first, but I think I've figured it out. He meant that it's a waste of time to covet someone else's power, and I guess it works vice-versa. I wouldn't wish Permeation on anyone, just like how I wouldn't want whatever you got. It's a total nightmare to navigate. Only I can bring Permeation to its maximum potential, just like how only you can maximize—wait, what's your quirk called again?"

"One for All—" Izuku slapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. He swayed in place, a sudden alien nausea overtaking him. His stomach felt like a boiling, angry pot for a few seconds as Izuku regained control. Mirio flinched, alarmed at Izuku's reaction. "Oh, fuck, uhm… Ignore that. That's the name… Nighteye has for it, but if we're being honest, it doesn't have a legal name. I unlocked my quirk at a later age, so I'm not in the system. I'd appreciate it if you forgot that, please."

Mirio looked torn between suspicion and surprise, but after a moment of silent contemplation, seemed to lean towards the latter.

"You… unlocked your quirk late? And you're that good with it? When?"

Well, the cat was already halfway out of the bag.

"Uh… ten?"

"You're unbelievable. I refuse to believe you're a real person, standing in front of me."

"S-sorry?"

"Don't apologize. I'm just mourning my future world records, given that demons like you will be my underclassmen next year."

After that, they lapsed back into silence, returning to the workout. All the while, however, Mirio's advice was bouncing around his head, destroying old anxieties and creating new ones alike.

The thought that he was the only one who could master One for All was a comforting one. It made sense, too; Izuku couldn't imagine mastering Permeation. Relief surged through body as his words solidified in Izuku's brain. Mirio wouldn't want One for All. It was like he was Atlas shrugging off the weight of the world. The euphoria he felt was only matched by a new anxiety, a silent fear which before now had only existed in the ether between his conscious and unconscious.

Could he really master One for All's quirks, if he was not their original user? Could he ever tame the wild Blackwhip; or grab the elusive Float, which had been hiding from him for so long?

"It may take time, kid, but I think you'll get there. The vestiges are always with you, after all. No hero has yet mastered One for All; until you, we didn't even know there was something to master." Five said, his will o'wisp form manifesting an imitation of Blackwhip off his left hand. "The only way to know for certain that it's impossible is if you give up. Forget your anxiety. Forget your doubts. Damnit, forget your arm! The only way to find out is to act, kid, so that's what we'll do!"

It was like someone flipped a switch, or added a semicolon to the end of a broken line of code. Five, otherwise known as Banjo, otherwise known as Lariat, raised his left hand up in the air, urging Izuku to mirror him. He wasn't sure what was going on, but One for All was building up inside of him. It raged like a wild dog, barking and biting and scratching against the door in a frenzy. Izuku, for a moment, didn't know what to do, but a sudden yearning in his heart guided him. No thoughts were necessary; his next movements were instinctual. Izuku let the rabid dog in.

A surge of prickles washed over his stub just as a dozen Blackwhips exploded outward. Mirio stumbled from where he stood nearby, mouth agape as the storm of tentacles started spinning like a tornado. Weaving themselves into a braid, they stuck themselves to Izuku's shoulder like an octopus. Thinner whips wrapped his body like a climbing harness, concentrating and growing out of his stub like a wild tree sapling. To say the whips calmed themselves would be an overstatement; they stabilized, forming a rope-like trunk a few feet long. The tips of the branches remained restless, always moving, always shifting, but the general shape remained the same.

The arm was a bit long; longer than his real one, hanging down as far as his knees, but that didn't matter. He didn't force his will into the whips, instead urging all of them to move as a group. The hand wavered; some threads frayed a bit, but it moved, and it was wonderful.

Mirio was staring at him, star struck.

"Is… is that new?" He asked, his voice far away in Izuku's booming ears, blood pounding like sacred drums.

"Remember when I said that if we kept going… we'd become better?" Izuku asked, almost unable to hear his own voice. Mirio nodded. "Then how about we spar again? I've got eight months until the entrance exam, and I get the feeling I'm going to need all the practice I can get."

A wild smile replaced the shocked look on his face, his teeth dazzling in the warm light of the warehouse. He really did look like All Might.

"It'd be my pleasure, partner."

[x]

AN: Chapter 29 was a nightmare to write, I'm not gonna lie. I actually had to rewrite it, and even now its kinda dubious if its good or bad. Eitherway, this chapter was a mess of talking, but the ending is fire, no? I'm excited to start chapter thirty today or tomorrow; it's gonna be a blast. One review said that Izuku's pov last chapter was kind of floaty? Did we get the same feeling here? I kinda feel bad for that guy, especially since 29 is notably floaty too. A lot of seamless cuts between inner thoughts and reality.

I might make a personal fanart of my own Izuku soon, but that's not gonna be for a while. I wish I was good at digital art; I can only work with real paper.

Review! Now that I'm uploading less, I want more reviews per chapter if I can manage it. I can always count on five, but I'd like more, ya know? i think twenty five got like twelve, which was crazy. Keep on reviewing, and I'll keep writing!