Chapter 2

The odor in the alleyway after the encounter with the sludge villain is enough to make Izuku feel like he's choking down poison. The stench makes his eyes water and sting, but he doesn't care. Bakugou is climbing to his feet with all the energy of an eighty-year-old man—unsurprising, given what he's just been through—but Izuku can't bring himself to do even that. He stays where he is, back pressed against the cold bricks of the wall behind him, leftover sludge and muck from the defeated villain slowly spreading towards his feet.

All Might… Something is wrong with All Might.

The world around him might as well not exist for all that he's paying attention to it. Such a small, fleeting moment, but powerful enough to take hold of his mind even over what just happened with the sludge villain. Just one tiny cough of blood and Izuku's entire worldview shatters and tears at the seams. All his life he's wanted to become just like All Might, the undefeatable, invincible, immortal hero who smiles through every challenge life throws his way. Becoming like All Might means discarding any weaknesses, any doubts. It means shielding oneself from all the anxieties and all the upsets life can throw their way.

Or it's meant to mean that for Izuku. One cough of blood tells Izuku it's all been a lie. One cough of blood to show Izuku that he might never rid himself of his doubts and anxieties—that he might never become a hero, because even someone as amazing as All Might isn't weakness free. If someone with the strength and power of All Might must still deal with his own weaknesses, then what the hell chance does Izuku have? Skinny, weak, weird kid with only one overly aggressive friend and a quirk he doesn't even understand? Izuku's mind spirals into a pit of self doubt and self-consciousness as he lowers his face into his raised knees.

"What the hell were you thinking, kid?" a gruff voice asks from above Izuku. Hands reach under Izuku's arms and hoist him to his feet as though he's nothing more than a naughty child who won't do as he's told. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

Izuku's eyes are wet with tears as he looks into the squared jawed face of the pro-hero Death Arms. His face is set into a firm scowl as he looks down at Izuku, lips pressed together and brows drawn like he's got a foul taste in his mouth. Izuku flinches at the sight of him. With Death Arms in front of him, a combination of anger and disbelief in his eyes, it's enough to lift Izuku out of his sorry state and crash back to reality.

"You were incredibly reckless," Kamui Woods adds as his entirely wooden body comes into view besides Death Arms. "Quirk or not, you can't just run into a dangerous situation like that! There's a reason we heroes need to have a license in order to face villains. You could have gotten yourself and the hostage killed with your vigilantism!"

Vigilantism? It's stunning to hear the word thrown out so casually. He is no vigilante! Anything resembling hero work without a license has been strictly outlawed ever since quirks started appearing in society, and Izuku is anything but a criminal. His eyes find Kacchan a few feet away, now surrounded by heroes himself. Instead of the scolding that Izuku is getting, however, Bakugou is getting shoulder pats and admiration about his power and bravery. He's ignoring them easily though, staring back at Izuku with a completely indecipherable expression. Izuku's never seen a look quite like it on Bakugou's face.

"M'sorry," Izuku mumbles under his breath, lowering his eyes to avoid the disappointment in the two heroes' eyes. As much as he wants to tell himself that what he did wasn't vigilantism, he knows that in the eyes of the law it absolutely was. His only intention—and considering how much his actions had been instinct more than logical thought, it might not even qualify as an intention at all—was to save Kacchan, but that doesn't matter. He'd used his quirk in public when he himself was not under attack. Against two people, too, even if one of them was a villain and the other his friend. Legally it's not a shade of gray, merely black and white.

I was a vigilante...

"You got lucky here, kid. What if your quirk hadn't worked the way you wanted? Pro heroes undergo years of training with our quirks so we understand our strengths and weaknesses. Fortunately, this time worked out for you," Death Arms voice is heavy with judgement.

"But what if things hadn't worked out?" Kamui Woods asks the question that Izuku doesn't want to consider. "By attacking the villain, you forced us to act, too. If All Might hadn't shown up, not only might you and the hostage have died, but us as well. Is that what you want?"

"N-no," Izuku stammers, shaking his head forcefully. "But I couldn't just stand there and watch Kacchan die..." His eyes move once again towards his friend, still studiously ignoring praise from the heroes and now several cameras and interviewers surrounding him. He's watching Izuku with a side eye, but his face is still impossible to read. He doesn't look at all interested in jumping to Izuku's defense, probably too proud to consider thanking him. In fact, if Izuku knows his friend at all, then Kacchan is probably not just going to be thankless, but might even blame Izuku for him looking weak enough to need saving.

Izuku's words at the very least seem to soften the approaches of the two pro heroes standing over him. They share a brief look, almost like a silent agreement passes between them to take it a little easier on him. Death Arms even lets out an audible sigh and rests one of his giant hands on Izuku's thin shoulder. "It was lucky that it worked out this time," he says, tone much softer now, "but the vigilante laws are in place to protect you, not prevent you from being able to help."

"I know," Izuku admits softly, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides like a nervous tic. "I didn't really think before I was moving. Kacchan is my friend, and my legs just kinda… moved on their own."

"You're going to try out for the hero course though, right?" Kamui Woods asks, his previous glare all but disappeared. "You shouldn't have jumped in like that given the circumstances, but you've got the heart of a hero, that's for sure."

On any other day, at any other time, Izuku would feel like he could jump to the moon if a pro hero uttered those words to him. But not now. All it does now is remind him of All Might—of a lifetime worth of dreams that now seem shaken. Every hope and dream Izuku has ever had about becoming a hero has had its source in All Might. Now it all feels so much further away, maybe even too farto reach. All Might is still a hero, yes, the most powerful hero and the symbol of peace, but he's not what Izuku thought. Does that mean that Izuku's dreams aren't what he thought they were, either?

"I-" Izuku cuts himself off before he can say anything. His eyes lower once again and he shifts nervously where he stands, unable to meet their intense gaze. A mere ten minutes ago, that question would've been easy to answer. Hell, ten minutes ago, he was more sure than ever that he could become a hero like All Might. He got Kacchan free when the other heroes in the area could not and also discovered a new aspect of his ever enigmatic quirk—yet it doesn't matter much to Izuku in the face of All Might's problems. How will Izuku ever be able to help anyone if he might never shed himself of the doubts and fears that plague him? How will he shed those weaknesses if even becoming like All Might won't make them go away?

How does Bakugou do it? He's always so confident, so sure that he'll become an amazing hero. Not only that, but he makes every person around him believe it as well. Izuku can't help but feel inferior in comparison. Bakugou wants to be like All Might too, but Izuku can't imagine that finding out that the number one hero has his own weaknesses would overly bother his explosive quirked friend—especially not that way it has affected Izuku. Bakugou relies entirely on himself. He has no shortcomings, no hindrances on his path to becoming a pro. Izuku wishes desperately he could say the same, but his dream of becoming a hero is so inexorably tied up with the idea of becoming exactly like All Might that it's difficult to see past the revelation of his invincibility being a lie.

If the situation surrounding Izuku wasn't already chaotic enough, it becomes even more so once more heroes and the police arrive in the alleyway. Mt Lady has shrunk down and is speaking to the interviewers and their cameras, even pulling Kacchan into the picture with her as though to siphon some of his five minutes of fame for herself. The police and the other heroes gather all the spattered sludge and muck from the villain. When the villain eventually reforms, he'll wake to find himself in prison.

"Hello there, is this the young man who jumped in to save his friend?" The man that approaches Izuku and the two heroes has black hair, a tan overcoat and trilby hat. Unlike how Death Arms and Kamui Woods had initially approached, however, this man wears a kind and approachable smile. He reaches into his jacket pocket to display a shiny silver police force badge.

"I'm Detective Tsukauchi," he announces, without waiting for any verbal confirmation that Izuku is who he's looking for. "I was hoping to cut in and get a witness statement from this young man, if you don't mind."

Death Arms and Kamui Woods give a quick nod and head over towards Kacchan and the rabble of heroes and reporters. Death Arms turns back after a moment. "No more heroics, kid, okay? Not until you get yourself a hero license."

Izuku nods meekly. As much as he admires heroes, and the two of them particularly as heroes in his local area, he's a little relieved to see them go. In all his daydreams about pro's, Izuku would never once have believed he could be on the receiving end of a hero's lecture. He lets out a sigh. If they're that intimidating towards teenagers they believe headed down the road of a vigilante, it's hard to fathom how terrifying they might become towards a genuine villain.

"I hope you don't mind answering my questions," Detective Tsukauchi says, his kindly smile a firm fixture on his face.

Izuku shakes his head firmly, even offering the detective a wobbly smile of his own. "I-I hope I can help," he says, voice still nervous and shaky. The detective seems nicer than most people, not looking straight through Izuku like he's too plain or unassuming to bother with.

"What's your name?" Tsukauchi asks, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looks Izuku up and down in inspection. Even on the best day Izuku mustn't look like much, short and lacking even the slightest definition, but he must look a proper mess, now. He's covered in mud and sludge, sticking his normal mess of hair to his skin and almost certainly giving the impression of a drowned sewer rat.

"Izuku Midoriya, sir."

Tsukauchi looks around the alleyway, his nose wrinkling at the fading but still ever-present repulsive odor. "Perhaps we should go elsewhere? The station isn't far, and you look as though you could use a hot chocolate."

Covered in mud and sludge from head to toe and reeking like a seldom cleaned public bathroom, Izuku doesn't think that's a terrible idea.

Izuku has never been inside a police station before. Being brought inside by a detective, even just as a witness to a villain attack, feels a little bizarre. He eyes the handcuffs dangling at Tsukauchi's waist, just hiding behind his open trench coat. If Death Arms and Kamui Woods had been a little tougher with him, it might've ended up with him being charged with vigilantism and paraded through these same doors with his hands behind his back.

The thought makes him queasy.

The interior of the police station isn't particularly well decorated or architecturally fascinating, though he really doesn't know what he was expecting. It's only a two-storey building, with the wall signs indicating the upstairs for more clerical work than anything Tsukauchi would need Izuku for. Instead, Tsukauchi takes him straight through the main doors on the bottom floor and into a bullpen, almost like one would find at any newspaper office. Police officers and suited detectives are sitting at desks across the room, tapping away at their computers and not even looking up to see Izuku, mud and sludge covered and making a mess of the shiny marble floor. Apparently, even his appearance isn't remarkable enough to warrant more than a glance from a room full of police officers.

Tsukauchi urges Izuku towards the door nearest to the entrance of the bullpen, a small desk with a plaque with his name on it. He takes a seat in the black leather office chair behind the desk and gestures for Izuku to sit in the uncomfortable looking wooden chair in front of his desk.

"Oh, uh, I-I don't want to ruin your desk," Izuku reminds nervously. Not only is he filthy, covered nearly from head to toe in dried up sludge and mud from the villain attack, but he also smells like a sewage station, too. The last thing he wants is to have his stench hanging around the detective's desk for days. Not to mention the drying mud and gunk on his clothes is quickly becoming itchy and uncomfortable.

"Oh, of course, I'm sorry," Tsukauchi takes his hat off and places it on his desk. "If you head through the doors back there," he points towards another set of double doors towards the back of the bullpen, "you'll see a sign for the men's locker rooms. Should be empty at this time of day. Why don't you go get yourself cleaned up first? We need to wait for someone else before we get started, anyway."

Someone else?

Not that Izuku understands normal protocol in taking witness statements, but he doubts it's normally a job requiring two officers. He eyes Tsukauchi suspiciously. Come to think of it, why would Tsukauchi only call Izuku for a witness statement? Kacchan was the one who nearly died, so shouldn't he be here, too? More than that, what about the heroes who were on the scene before Izuku? They would know much more about how things escalated than Izuku, right?

Are they going to charge me with vigilantism?

His heart is thumping like crazy in his chest when Tsukauchi offers him another smile. This time it does little to soothe Izuku's nerves. "Nothing to worry about. Just head back there for a shower. I'll send an officer with some spare clothes. I daresay you'll need a new school uniform…"

His walk to the men's locker rooms feels slow, like a long walk through a hall full of judging eyes. Realistically, he gets barely more than a glance from the officers as he passes between desks, but that's not how it feels. Suddenly, he feels like a criminal walking through a gauntlet of police ready to pounce and lock his wrists in handcuffs. He tries to swallow his nerves, but they remain like gum caught in his throat. He imagines his hands being cuffed behind his back, his mother crying in the corner and dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief—all his classmates laughing that now he's really got no chance of ever becoming a hero.

He pushes through the thoughts clouding his mind and finds the locker room easily enough though, and like Tsukauchi had thought, it's empty. Izuku catches sight of himself in the mirror. He looks awful. His normally green hair is brown, dry and feels like straw to the touch—a combination of dried sludge, mud and sweat. Even the most ferocious clean won't rescue his school uniform. Where once it was gray, it's now a sort of brownish green—not to mention still damp and absolutely fetid. He peels the clothes off, wincing as the drying mud and gunk sticks to the hairs on his arms and legs. He heads into the bathroom beyond and steps under the showerhead.

The shower makes him feel about a thousand times better, but only physically. His insides feel like a melting pot of anxiety, fear and complete and utter dread. For all he knows, he's about to walk back out to Detective Tsukauchi only to be arrested for vigilantism. Logically, he knows it's a foolish thought. If he was going to be charged, surely they wouldn't drag it out like this. But then, why else bring him to the police station at all? He'd been too distracted to consider it before, but Tsukauchi's story about wanting to take a witness statement definitely doesn't add up.

Perhaps an official warning? Even that thought feels unwelcome. True, he probably deserves an ear-bashing for technically breaking the law, no matter that the outcome was a positive one. That doesn't mean he relishes the thought of being judged by a local Detective. What if it ends up on his record? Could it be held against him in the future? His potential future as a pro hero feels like it could be slipping further and further away from him.

"Hey, kid," there's a soft knock on the bathroom door. "Tsukauchi asked me to bring you some clothes. They probably won't fit, but they're the best I can do on short notice, sorry." The door opens slightly and arms reach through to place a pile of folded clothes onto the wooden bench next to the bathroom door. The door closes. Izuku tries to shout his thanks, but the words catch in his throat behind his panic. The thought of being arrested, as much as he's trying to convince himself logically that something else is going on, has his brain practically short circuiting.

As the officer suggested, the clothes he'd brought are multiple sizes too big, but the bottoms are elastic so it's not that big a problem. It's a simple gray hoodie with the kanji for Musutafu Police Force etched onto the front in black. The bottoms are simple tracksuit pants. The outfit hangs on his thin frame like a sheet thrown over a skeleton, but it's better than being in his sticky, mud covered school uniform.

When he returns to the bullpen, a tall, thin blonde man is standing in front of Tsukauchi's desk. His face is gaunt and hollow, and his eyes are sunken into his angular face. He has long limbs, and his arms and legs look as though they could very well snap in a firm breeze. His hair sticks up in tufts above his head, with two distinct strands that reach out over his face. He sticks out even next to the skinny and massless Izuku.

"Ah, that must be more comfortable," Tsukauchi says, looking away from his sickly friend and towards Izuku as he approaches. He holds out a styrofoam cup with a lid. Steam billows out the top, and even from a few feet away Izuku can smell the rich chocolate through the open lid. The detective smiles. It makes Izuku swallow his nerves once again. Surely, this is not a man who is about to arrest him. Still, he definitely doesn't believe the detective wants a real witness statement from him, either. Izuku takes the hot chocolate, smiling through his nerves in thanks.

The blonde man stares at Izuku with his sunken eyes and gaunt face, yet somehow the man comes across as a little intimidating. He looks as though he should be lying in a hospital bed, but the intensity of his gaze is bewildering, completely at odds with his delicate frame. He searches Izuku's eyes as if weighing his worth.

"Let's go into one of the interrogation rooms, shall we?" Tsukauchi either doesn't notice the man's staring at Izuku, or was expecting it. Either way, he doesn't mention it, even beckoning for the other man to follow as well.

Is he the man the detective was waiting for? It was easy to assume it would be another detective, or at the very least another officer. If this stranger is coming as well, it means Izuku's assumptions were right—this is no witness statement. Even without this stranger coming along, heading off to an interrogation room would be an unusual request. If it were just to talk about the incident with the sludge villain, then why not do it here at Tsukauchi's desk?

Izuku doesn't feel like he has the option to refuse, so he steps after the pair as they follow the signs to interrogation, off at the right side of the bullpen. It looks just as it does in the movies, a white room with a metal desk and a groove for handcuffs, and two chairs on either side of the table. A one-way mirror takes up half of the left wall. It's a little disconcerting knowing that there could be officers behind it, watching Izuku as though waiting for him to make a mistake that could see him sent off to prison.

"Um, should I call my mom for this?" Izuku asks. His stomach has re-tied itself into knots upon entering the interrogation room.

"No, no," Tsukauchi answers easily. "You aren't in any trouble, and this probably won't take very long." He smiles again to soothe Izuku's clearly frayed nerves. "There's no reason to worry, I promise."

It makes him feel a little better, but his brain is working overtime to figure out what this could all be about. At the very least, he feels physically safe and comfortable in the heart of a police station, and Tsukauchi seems nice despite the enigma of what Izuku is really doing there.

"Midoriya, I'd like to introduce you to—"

The blonde man coughs into his hand before Tsukauchi can finish introducing him. He lowers his hand to stare into it. His palm is spattered with blood.

Izuku's mind snaps into focus and he sucks in a breath. "All Might," the words are reverent in his mouth, almost like a prayer. Izuku automatically lifts a hand to cover his own mouth. There's no doubt in his mind now that this skeleton of a man is somehow his all-time favorite superhero. A horrified surprise cuts right through him. Seeing All Might cough blood after the sludge villain was one thing, but this? Surely his mind is playing tricks on him, or All Might has been hit with some sort of bizarre quirk. The man who saved one thousand people in a matter of minutes could not possibly be the same man standing in front of him.

All Might and Tsukauchi look at each other, worry etched onto their faces. All Might lets out a loud sigh.

"Yeah, kid," he admits, though he doesn't seem at all happy to confirm it. It's not too surprising. In his mind's eye, Izuku can see the real All Might appearing, all muscle and heroism against a bright sunrise. 'I am here!' His mind automatically imagines All Might's signature catch phrase, his deep booming voice resonating between Izuku's ears as though the hero had actually uttered them aloud. The imaginary image is a stark contrast with the depressing reality of the man standing on the other side of the table. All Might simply stands there, completely unexpressive.

"I can see why you wanted to talk to him, All Might," Tsukauchi says, letting out a small laugh. "Midoriya here is quite perceptive. Do you want a few minutes alone with him?"

Izuku watches All Might nod, but it's not something that registers in his brain. It's like a bomb has gone off in his brain, evaporating all conscious thought. His greatest hero is before him, a situation so similar and yet so very different from one he has daydreamed of thousands of times. Meeting All Might… getting the chance to ask him questions—it's a dream come true, but not like this. Tsukauchi leaves the room, and All Might takes a seat, looking as tired as his body suggests he must be.

"Take a seat, young Midoriya," All Might sighs. "I think we need to have a chat."

Izuku stares back at him. It takes several long moments to even register what All Might said to him, but eventually he takes a seat too. He doesn't stop staring.

In near an instant, the thin, hollow form of All Might expands until sitting across from Izuku is the All Might he's always known. Muscle bound and heroic in every way possible, to Izuku he looks like the epitome of everything good and pure in the world. This is the man who has inspired a thousand heroes, whose mere presence keeps the crime rate from skyrocketing. The Symbol of Peace and Pillar of Hope. Izuku can't help the smile that spreads across his face, even in the face of knowing that it's not his true form.

"This must make you more comfortable, right?" All Might asks, eyebrow raised in question. Izuku almost nods until guilt curls in his stomach at the thought of what the question really means. Izuku clearly hadn't been able to hide his shock at seeing the frail, weak form that All Might had just been. He's transformed just to make Izuku feel better about seeing him this way. For all Izuku knows, and can realistically infer, All Might is sacrificing his own comfort for Izuku's sake.

Izuku shakes his head firmly, despite it being a lie. His hands nervously grab at the fabric over his thighs. "W-whatever is comfortable for you, is comfortable for me," he stammers out.

With a sound like a rush of wind, along with a brief and faint plume of smoke erupting from his seat, All Might returns to what Izuku can now say for certain is his truest form, enfeebled and weak. Yet in his face and sunken eyes, he doesn't look as terribly weak as Izuku believed. He's offering Izuku a smile—not the same smile that All Might offers the world as a hero, but no less bright, either. It's almost like his true heroism is hiding just beyond the facade.

"That's nice of you, kid. I'm sorry you have to see me this way," All Might says with complete sincerity.

That's why he wants to talk to me. That statement alone is enough for the puzzle pieces to click into place for Izuku. As he thought, Tsukauchi wanted nothing to do with a witness statement. Izuku was brought here to speak with All Might, to ensure that Izuku would keep what he saw—the cough of blood—quiet. All Might cannot remain the world's symbol of peace if the world knows of his weakness, after all. Izuku knows that now more than ever. Just seeing him cough blood once after fighting the sludge villain has sent him hurtling into an abyss of self doubt about whether he can truly become a hero, so why would the rest of the world be any different? Even rumors of All Might not being as strong as the world believes him to be could have their society hurtling into chaos.

"I won't tell anyone," Izuku says, his voice strong. Conviction is written across his face, no hint of anxiety or doubt to be seen. "I swear it. I know how important it is how the world sees you."

All Might laughs, and it surprises Izuku that despite his form it doesn't sound so different from his muscle form. Despite this form being as weak as it clearly is, the heart of a hero still beats inside his chest. All Might is clearly All Might despite his appearance. If Izuku closes his eyes, he'd hear the same All Might that has saved more lives than any other hero.

"You really are perceptive, young Midoriya. I hate to ask you to keep such a secret. Nobody was ever meant to see me like this, but for the good of our hero society, I have to ask."

Izuku shakes his head firmly. "I would never tell anyone. You—" he cuts himself off before he can blurt out what's on his mind.

Just say it, coward. You might never get the chance again.

Izuku bites his lip. "You're the reason I always dreamed of being a hero. I want to be just like you, All Might!" He leaves his self doubts unsaid. The last thing All Might needs is to hear that while he is the inspiration for Izuku's dream, the revelation of his weakness is making Izuku doubt himself, too.

Izuku has watched countless interviews of All Might on the internet, so he's expecting something like him being proud to inspire the next generation of heroes. There have been countless times Izuku has heard him say such things. But he doesn't say it to Izuku. Instead, his brows furrow, pressed together in contemplative thought. He rests his giant, bony hands on the metal surface of the table.

"Why is it you want to be a hero?"

All Might's question takes Izuku a little off guard. In every interview he's ever seen, All Might never hesitates to state his belief that anyone can become a hero. Yet with Izuku he's asking why?

"I don't—" Izuku starts and stops himself when he meets All Might's intense gaze. He's looking straight into Izuku's eyes, as though trying to peer straight through his retinas and into his brain to read his thoughts. Of course Izuku knows why he wants to be like All Might, but that doesn't necessarily make it an easy question to answer, especially given who's question it is.

"I want to be able to save people," Izuku explains it as simply as he can. If he's really honest with himself, the real answer is far more complicated, but his dream at its core is all about saving those in danger—no matter the cost. "You're always able to save everyone, all with a smile. I know now that you aren't invincible, but that… that just makes me want to be like you more! If I become like you, it means I can overcome all my worst instincts, all my fear and all my anxiety about not being good enough or strong enough…"

All Might continues to stare at Izuku. His expression changes though, almost a mixture of sadness and sympathy for Izuku.

"You will never be All Might," the number one hero says simply.

Izuku's entire world freezes. For a moment, every doubt Izuku has ever had about himself seems true. He's too weak to become a pro hero. Every doubt anybody has ever had about himself: his quirk isn't enough, despite all he doesn't know about its capabilities, he's too small, and lacks all the conviction that someone like Bakugou has in spades.

All Might isn't done, though, and his next words seem completely at odds with the previous. "You have the potential to become an amazing hero, you proved that today, and you were my inspiration."

It only serves to baffle Izuku more. How could I ever inspire him?

"I was there, in that crowd, watching as helplessly as all the other heroes."

Izuku frowns. A flash of a memory passes through his mind, of himself pushing past someone in the crowd watching the incident with the sludge villain. All Might. It was definitely him, not his muscular, heroic self, but the one sitting across from Izuku now, too powerless to get involved and save Kacchan. It's hard to believe. For years Izuku has followed All Might's career, watching and reading about his fights with the most powerful villains, and he never sits back helplessly. From the shame that sits heavy on All Might's face now, it's not something that he's admitting lightly.

"Watching you run in to save your friend was incredible. You were afraid, and you ran in without a plan—"

Izuku flinches. Despite All Might saying it inspired him, it almost sounds like the man wants to chastise Izuku for how reckless he'd been.

"I've known some of the greatest heroes in the world, and almost all of them share something in common… Almost all of them said their legs moved without conscious thought. Today, you reminded me of what it means to be truly heroic. It's not about fighting to save people by being fearless, it's about doing the right thing despite your own fears and weaknesses."

Izuku lifts his gaze to meet All Might's, although his own vision is becoming blurry with tears.

"You don't need to become All Might, and you shouldn't," All Might says again. "You're enough on your own, and you will always become a greater Izuku Midoriya than you could ever be trying to become someone else."

Izuku is properly crying now, tears spilling down his cheeks, his nose running with snot. If All Might's words weren't so impactful, it'd probably be embarrassing to be such a mess in front of him. Right now he can't bring himself to care. He feels his earlier anxieties and fears simply fade away. In a bizarre way, it's both dream crushing and dream creating at the same time. Izuku has always wanted to become exactly like All Might, and now he's getting told from the man himself that it will never happen. But maybe it doesn't need to. Izuku is full of weakness, full of doubt and anxiety. But he can't deny that All Might is right, too. When it really mattered, Izuku did his best to save a life despite those weaknesses. Perhaps that's what's really important.

"I didn't just want to talk to you because you saw my weakness," All Might continues despite Izuku's crying across from him. "I saw how upset it made you, and I had to let you know how you inspired me. Focus on a new image—not of you becoming me, but of you believing in yourself and becoming your own hero. Go out and show the world that I, Izuku Midoriya, am here!"

All Might isn't just Izuku's favorite hero because he is the most powerful, or the number one hero. It's not even because he's always felt that becoming like All Might would make him infallible. All Might is Izuku's favorite hero because more than anything else, he is truly good. He's honest and inspirational, and his words mean something. He's not just telling Izuku what he wants to hear, he's saying it because he believes them to be true.

I can become a hero…

Believe in myself…

It seems like such a simple concept, but not so simple as just making it happen. One thing is for certain, it's never going to happen without truly understanding his quirk. For so many years Izuku has believed his quirk is summoning Butterfree, but now he knows it's likely far more complicated.

Kacchan didn't believe I could become a powerful hero with just Butterfree, but what about now?

Izuku shakes the unwelcome thought from his head. All Might is absolutely right. His journey shouldn't be about becoming All Might, nor should it be about comparing himself to Kacchan. It needs to be about himself, about becoming strong enough to save people on his own, or at least as alone as his quirk allows.

A smile flits across Izuku's face at the thought of his quirk. Of course—he's never actually alone. Butterfree is always with him, and now, probably Solosis as well, no matter that he doesn't fully understand his quirk. Perhaps he doesn't just have to believe in himself. Believing in the creatures he summons… that's the key to his future as a hero. If ever his shortcomings seem too much to overcome, he can look to his strengths, Butterfree and Solosis and whatever else his quirk might make possible.

I can become a hero...

Izuku Midoriya smiles and waves enthusiastically back at All Might and Tsukauchi as he leaves the police station. He'd been blubbery and teary in the interrogation room when All Might had told him what he'd probably been waiting a lifetime to hear, but afterwards he'd been cheery, almost giddy. He talked about his 'Butterfree' like it was family, despite it being a part of his quirk rather than some beloved pet. It doesn't surprise Toshinori. To have a quirk that can summon real living fantastical creatures… this Izuku Midoriya definitely has a unique quirk, perhaps more unique than any he's ever heard of. If he hadn't seen it in action himself, he'd never believe such a quirk could even exist. Even if the boy doesn't truly understand it, it's clear that it's a quirk meant for a hero.

Toshinori and Tsukauchi wave from the front steps of the police station, watching the small green-haired boy until he's around the corner and out of view. It's hard to come to grips with how the day has affected Toshinori. A few hours ago he was fine, wrapping up his daily hero work against a sludge villain who'd taken up robbery. It had gone off the rails quickly. His carelessness meant the villain got away free, and Toshinori had nearly used up too much of his time to prevent the murder of two teenage boys.

It's unacceptable. He's loved being All Might all these years, being the symbol of hope that people could hold in their hearts and that villains everywhere would fear the name of. But if today has proven anything for certain, it's that his time as the Number One hero is at an end. It's all just a facade now, an act to prevent the scum of society from rising like a backed up sewer pipe. He'd decided to pass on One for All years ago, but he's never been more serious about it than today.

"He's a good kid," Tsukauchi whispers, "Death Arms and Kamui Woods were pretty hard on him."

It's not unheard of. Pro Heroes train not just to save lives and defeat villains, but to enforce law and order as well. That doesn't mean they have to arrest every single person who breaks any law, however, and the best heroes use their best judgement in any situation. In seeing a kid save his friend by using his quirk, they'd have every right to arrest him on a charge of vigilantism, but they would be deeply, deeply wrong to do it. Even so, they can't ignore it completely—just scaring Izuku enough to not act so carelessly again must have been their intention.

"You think he might be the one?" Tsukauchi asks quietly. He fixes his eyes on Toshinori, as if staring at him could probe his brain to get the truth of whether he's finally ready to give up One for All and everything it's meant for both Toshinori's life and hero society.

Toshinori takes a long moment to answer. "I'm… not sure," he says. "He's got the heart, I know that much. The way he ran in towards that villain to save his friend, you should've seen it. This kid was full of fear, but he charged anyway. The holder of One for All should have that kind of instinctive courage."

"But?" The question hangs in the air.

Toshinori is silent for several moments more. "My master told me something, once. She believed that anybody has the strength to be a hero who saves people, but not until that person can find strength in themselves."

A part of him wants to ignore his logical side and offer the boy his quirk, to set aside his doubts and finally name a successor, but he can't. Nana Shimura's voice is in his head, telling him to wait. Time might run out as his body slowly degrades, but this isn't a decision that he can take lightly, even if in his heart of hearts Izuku seems like the perfect fit.

"Young Midoriya needs to accept himself for who he is, his strengths and his weaknesses, before I can honestly consider him for my successor."

Tsukauchi nods as though he was expecting just such an answer. He lifts a hand to rest on Toshinori's thin left shoulder. "But you'll be keeping an eye on the kid, won't you?"

Toshinori smiles. His detective friend really knows him all the way through to his core. He's asking questions, but really he already knows that Toshinori will watch the kid's progress with keen interest.

"Whether or not he ever becomes my successor, you better believe that kid has a hell of a future ahead of him. You mark my words, he'll become a great hero."

Maybe greater than I ever was.

To Toshinori, that's a comforting thought.

Notes

So I've been sitting on this chapter for ages because no matter how much I tweak and rework, I just cannot bring myself to like it. Posting anyway because Im well sick of this chapter and want to get to exciting stuff. NEvertheless I hope you find something to like in it.