Season IV: Ascension
Chapters 43-56
'There are a group of phenomena commonly called the Seven Great Mysteries and have been avenues of speculation. The Great Warp Quirks, of which Master Railroad was the first, was the Initial Mystery as it could not be explained. To this day, Warp Quirks are the most anomalous of all quirk types and the rarest. He would be responsible for the second mystery, his disappearance which took the peak of Mount Kilimanjaro. Over centuries, we would learn that there were a group of Immortals such as Hawkmoon and Hinata Ononoki who ignored the passage of time of centuries.
In quick succession, the Twin Bombings, and the Raoul Island Upheaval would occur. The former befell Tianjin and Juba, and they are twins for they possess the same fallout composition. The latter would see Raoul Island suddenly increase to thrice its size and become an inhospitable wasteland actively harmful to life. In more uncharted territory is the secondary mutation trigger of space, lending credence to the theory that quirks are a cosmic phenomenon.
Finally, in recent history, the Brazillian Ghosts have manifested. They are the recorded imprints of the dead who style themselves as gods. Currently, a necromantic quirk gone awry is the leading theory.'
—Excerpt from 'The Beginner Scientists Guide to Quirks'.
Fumikage Tokoyami stares at the wall, tired in a way that isn't just physical. The wall is plain and without much embellishment but for the very subtle pattern that he notices only out of the corner of his eye, a texture to the wall that can be seen at only a few angles. Stencilled so carefully on the white wall to not be noticeable on cursory inspection is a rose bush, not the chrysanthemum he expects.
He doesn't know where he is.
A bedroom, obviously, but not the geographic location. The room may be bigger than his entire house, it may have a set of ornate furniture near the fireplace in the corner and even a breakfast table in delicate wood, but he can't get shake the mild disquiet he feels.
The bed, at least, is comfortable enough that he has no qualms about doing nothing to relieve his ignorance. No bed should be this comfortable.
A sharp knock forces him alert. He sits up, only now noticing he's slept in his school shirt and combat pants.
"Enter," he says on the second knock.
He sees the cart before he sees the man pushing it. The man is dressed in a white uniform, one more formal than anything Fumikage has ever worn in his life.
The man bows upon entering fully. "Lord Inquisitor," he says. "It is a pleasure to host you today."
Fumikage simply watches the spectacle of someone laying out a full breakfast in silence. This is absurd. The cutlery alone looks more expensive than anything he owns and he still doesn't know where he is and perhaps, he is being willfully ignorant, but Midoriya has managed to do so perfectly well for months if not years.
I can choose to ignore things for another hour, he thinks.
He finally steps out of bed. The tile floor isn't cold as he expects. Then again, underfloor heating is centuries old.
Fumikage slides into the chair the man pulls out. "Thank you," he says.
Despite the ornate crockery, the meal itself is something he's familiar with: brown rice served in a simple bowl, a perfectly rolled egg omelette, a soup he assumes is Miso Shiru, and a salad served with delicate slices of apple. It looks like something he would eat at home, not the place he's being willfully ignorant of.
"Guardswoman Izanami stated you would enjoy a plain breakfast," the man says.
And that explains enough. Of course, she would know. There's not much he assumes she doesn't know about who he is and the things he tries to hide from himself.
He takes the chopsticks and takes a bit of the rice. It tastes magnificent in a way he's never expected out of breakfast.
"This will likely be a confusing period," the man says.
He has bright yellow eyes, Fumikage notices, like liquid gold against darker features that aren't Japanese. South American, perhaps, but not Asian in the slightest.
"It is," Fumikage agrees after a bite of the salad.
"Lady Izanami is out for a few hours dealing with matters of importance to the Emperor. This wing of the Villa hosts the members of her OTA and that of Guardsman Itinerant."
"Hm?" he asks around a sip of soup.
"Organisational Taskforce Assignment," the man says, waiting for Fumikage to gesture him on. "Every member of the Royal Guard commands an OTA, each dedicated to fulfilling one task. The OTA you are an informal special asset to is dedicated to battling the abyss."
"I see."
"You didn't read the dossiers at all." The man sighs. "Fuck, she's getting sloppy. I think she genuinely likes you."
He blinks.
"I'm sorry, but who exactly are you?"
"You can call me Itinerant of the Royal Guard."
Fumikage blinks once more, annoyed and amused. He sends a tiny tug to the creatures connected to his soul, awakening them should he need to fight this man. He might not win, but he has no interest in any games.
"Why did you put up this farce?"
"Oh, I just wanted to get to know you," Itinerant says. "Look, I know what it's been like. I sat right there at one point. Well, not there exactly, but you get what I'm saying."
"I don't," he growls.
"Okay, look, your handlers out for business and I thought you'd be better off having someone explain things to you before you go running off and making a mess of things. It can be a bit awkward."
"Speaking from experience?"
"The last Itinerant recruited me as a Special Asset. You see, there's always an Itinerant in the Royal Guard." He grins, showing off his perfect teeth. "One warp quirk for every generation of the Royal Guard. The last Itinerant ditched me here just to see how much havoc I could cause."
"I take it you know everything about me."
"Enough, but I didn't come here to threaten you or anything. Just to explain a few things since I know for a fact that Maya can't explain shit. Ask your questions?"
He finishes his rice and sets it aside. There's still a bit of the salad and he's rather hungry.
"Who are you, really?"
"I'm the Itinerant, the Guard's warper," he says with a smile. "Alexander Petros is my name. I'm half-Grecian if you haven't figured out."
"I take it not all of the Guard is Japanese."
"Just Ryujin and your handler." The Guardsman pours tea for Fumikage. "The rest of us are recruited across the world. Ra's from Zimbabwe, though I think she may be Egyptian. Our dear Oberon is from New York."
"I hate whoever comes up with your names."
He sighs. "Everyone does."
"What is it that you do?"
"I just make sure no heroes or villains destroy the balance of power." His smile is bitter. "Your friend is making my life very difficult."
"Midoriya? He's a good person."
Itinerant stands. "Yes," he says angrily. "You can do whatever you want within reason. Fucking shout and someone will probably help you."
"I've angered you."
"You think. You're not very good with people."
"I've been told. Why does Izuku bother you so much?"
"I just don't like his father. Have a good day, Inquisitor. And welcome to the household."
-TDB-
Izuku Midoriya smiles uncertainly at his counsellor. She looks much the same as the last time he saw her to the best of his memory. But that was months for him, closer to six months than the five or so weeks since she last saw him.
He hates how it's hard to remember details about her. Did she always wear large glasses or are those new? Was she a redhead when they last spoke or has she dyed her hair?
Forcing his muscles to relax, Izuku says, "I haven't seen you in a long time."
"Only a few weeks," she says kindly, unaware of how wrong that is. "It's good to see you as well."
"Were you injured?"
"Thankfully not. I watched the festival at a friend's home." She smiles then, small and bright. "No, tracking you down was far harder to have a conversation."
"I guess there wasn't much time between the Sports Festival and the internships."
Her smile slips. "You're glossing over something important."
"Oh, you mean the kidnapping." He shrugs. "I guess it happened and no, I'm not trying to hide from a traumatic event. It's just not that important. Yeah, it wasn't fun and hurt and I hated seeing my friend suffer when I couldn't do anything to help. But, and this is going to make you upset, pain brings clarity."
"We've talked about that attitude."
"We have," he agrees. "It's not like I want to hurt myself. It's just that seeing someone else in pain, someone similar enough to me that… I guess, it was like looking at myself from an outside perspective. I acted like I was a victim all the time and twisted everything to shift the blame. People tried helping me and I just kept on pushing them away. I didn't try making things better. I just lashed out as much as I could. Does that make sense? It hurt me because I was seeing what I used to do, but that hurt made it more apparent, made it clearer."
She says nothing for a long time, fiddling with her pen. Izuku waits patiently, used to being observed at this point. It doesn't make him nervous or uncomfortable as it used to.
"I'm glad you're recognising your behaviours," she says eventually. "I don't like the context behind them and I don't like how blasé you are about that context, but I'll accept those steps forward if you promise we'll revisit the topic. Honestly and without pretence."
He nods, running his fingers along the rough fabric of the armrest. "There's a lot about my quirk I'll have to tell you. Things I've kept hidden from a lot of people. Next time we sit down and talk, I'll tell you all of it. Just not today."
"Next time," she agrees. "Tell me how you feel."
"Angry. I feel sick with it some days. My father's back, you know. Just up one day out of the blue. I punched him immediately."
She scratches something on her notepad. "And why did you do that?"
"Because he left me for a decade," he snarls, the anger flaring up again. "I understand why he had to leave, but logic and emotions don't mix well."
"If you did understand, I believe you wouldn't harbour these feelings." She smiles gently. "You're a kind person. If you can't forgive him, then it isn't just because he came back suddenly."
"No, it's… I don't know."
"Try."
"What do you do when the image you have of someone isn't the person they are?"
"You can try to reconcile that image by learning about who they really are. You forgive them when they don't live up to that impossible image you have and cherish every moment when they're perfect or excellent."
"This is a pretty fucking hard image to reconcile," he says tersely, fingers digging roughly into the armrest. "My father is everything I can't stand. Everything I can't abide by."
"What exactly?"
He takes a breath. "I'm his child, his genetic legacy on this earth. I'm supposed to be everything he failed to be. My father told me that his ceiling is my floor, that his best is just my starting point. But I just want to burn the foundation he laid because it makes me sick."
"You make it sound like your father is a villain," she says delicately.
And he understands why. It wouldn't be the first time a villainous parent and a heroic child were embroiled in a rivalry. Too often it turned violent and rarely did both walk away.
"I'd rather he be a villain. At least it would all make sense then. It would be simple." He sighs, scratching the couch errantly. "One day I'm going to have to face everything he represents and I don't know if I'll be ready. I don't know if his love for me is greater than his loyalty to his oaths."
"What oaths?"
"I'm not going to tell you, no matter how much you pry." His smile is thin, wan, and false. "That's my past I'll have to face. Pick something else to poke and prod at. Not that."
"Tell me about your friends, then."
That should be a safe topic. They may argue occasionally, but he never worries they'll leave him. Today, however, it's anything but safe.
"One of my best friends has been expelled and if I talk to Aizawa I'm afraid I'll start a fight. And I don't want to do that." He sighs. "When I saw him yesterday, all I saw was red and I knew I couldn't talk to him. Because all I wanted to do in that moment was break in half and I refuse to act like that."
Once more, she writes something on her notepad. He catches a glimpse of very neat handwriting.
"Tell me about him. Your friend," she clarifies.
"He's got an honourable streak a mile long. I think it's stupid but it's what makes him who he is and I would never take that away. It's why I trust him with things I can never tell my other friends."
"Things like?"
"My quirk," he admits. "The things in my head when everything's just too loud. He taught me a lot, gave me a book actually. He added all these personal notes to them. It doesn't feel right to know that much about him without asking, but he wouldn't have given me that version if he didn't want me to see it. It's like seeing a glimpse into someone's mind without all the awkward barriers."
"And why do you think he wanted you to see it?"
"To know I'm not alone in doubting my right to be a hero with my quirk. To know that someone else understands having a voice in your head. I don't really care much for concepts of duty and honour. I care about people. But he cares for people by the rules he sets, the things he's honour bound to see through."
"That seems like a heavy burden for someone so young."
"It's a burden we're choosing to accept."
"I think he saw something his honour demanded he fight and Aizawa wouldn't let him," Izuku continues. "Or something else, I don't know. He's pretty stupid about things like that. He thinks he can do everything by himself and would rather be in pain than ask for help. And that's… just like me. Fuck."
She makes a sound of amusement.
"Maybe that's a good thing in some regards. You're a kind person and I don't think anything will change that." She smiles. "You talk about All Might often. He's a teacher here. I think he'll listen to you if you think what's been done is unfair. And I don't think you'll punch him."
"No. He's too tall for that."
It's a bad joke at best. She inclines her head but says nothing, waiting. Waiting for him to make the next move.
He sighs.
"You want me to tell the truth."
"The same way you told the truth in that interview," she answers. "I was so proud when I saw you there because you were facing your past, you were facing the things that hurt you."
"The truth is hard."
"It is. But I think you're at your best when you're telling the truth. It doesn't matter what it is. Just tell the truth."
Secrets are power, brother mine. I am the keeper, lock and key. Tell the truth if that is your power.
"Alright. I spent a long time thinking about dropping out and staying in Hokkaido. Maybe I'd be able to make a difference there. I don't know if I need to be a hero to make things better. It was just the only way I knew how to help people, but I've learnt saving someone doesn't mean you've helped them. Saving someone doesn't change the reason they were helpless. And maybe that's why Fumikage's not here. Maybe he can make things better elsewhere, but it needs to be his choice. I'll put my faith in him to be a good person and trust him to call me if he needs help."
"Go on," she says encouragingly, her smile bright.
"I talk to Mikumo all the time. He's always there."
Mikumo grunts in surprise. Are you really going to—
"Have you been taking—"
"My medication? Yes, every day. And they've helped a lot. I might be angry and bitter and upset, but I think that's the normal kind. I feel like I'd be a lot worse without them." He smiles sadly. "Mikumo told me to keep on taking them. I know it sounds ridiculous, but what if he's just how my quirk manifests, at least a part of it?"
"The issue is that I can't say if that's true or a product of your delusions."
"I know. My father has something similar and his quirk is close to mine. I'm not saying you did anything wrong when I… back when I nearly lost my mind. But maybe we were working under incomplete information."
"And I'm more than willing to make adjustments. Tell me another truth."
"Shinsou's my best friend and Ojiro my second. But I feel like I don't spend enough time with them. I feel like I don't pay enough attention to them. I didn't call them during the internship."
"You can go and talk to them. That's always an option."
"I know." He grins. "Another truth. I want to start a hero agency with them. All my friends. Together. Fighting the battles we think need to be fought. I'll be strong when they're weak, and they'll do the same for me. And if we try our best, maybe we can change things. Really change things. If even one of them was with me, I might have been able to save the girl in a sunflower dress."
"That sounds like a noble goal."
"It is. I'll have to tell them the truth about my quirk and why I am the way I am. But I trust them. I'll go tell them at camp."
It becomes so much easier to speak after that. They're small truths, perhaps inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. But perhaps they're just as important so long as he's telling the truth.
-TDB-
Fumikage Tokoyomi has spent most of the day in his room. He's calmer now after a few meals and a good shower. Currently, he's dressed in simple blue shirt and darker blue waistcoat.
There's a closet attached to his room. Whilst the clothes within fit well, half of them look too formal for anything but a meeting with the Emperor. And he certainly refuses to wear any of the white uniforms. He may have been expelled, but he doesn't work for them.
The shirt and waistcoat were pilfered from two separate outfits and the trousers are a simple black. He considers three ties, each carried by a glass crow for his inspection. Perhaps it's a misappropriation of his powers, but they may as well make themselves useful. He settles on the sky-blue tie with a geometric pattern.
The crows float back to the closet and pack the ties away delicately. He watches in amusement as he ties his tie, one crow perched on his shoulder.
It's been a day since his conversation with Itinerant, and he's spent most of that time in his room or wandering the common areas of the wing. It is nowhere near as formal as he expects out of the Imperial Villa. At least, this wing isn't. People are just people. Some are reverent and some are rude, though all call him Inquisitor with genuine respect.
He doesn't trust them by any stretch.
It's why there's always a crow near him. Right now, the crow is perched on his shoulder as he heads to the dining hall. It's a bit after lunch, so the hall isn't crowded or busy. His first instinct is to take a seat where he can observe the entire hall and not have anyone sneak up on him. Unfortunately, everyone else had that idea already.
There's a spot near the window that takes up the entire wall. It overlooks the small field and garden. There's a body of water and a bridge crossing it. On it, he watches two children playing a game of some sort, balancing on the bridge struts.
He orders food absently, entertained when one of the children falls into the water. A chuckle makes him look up and he notices a few other people watching the spectacle. There's a table with teenagers his age. One sneaks a wave that he returns uncertainly. She smiles at him, brilliant and simple.
"I see you're making friends."
He looks up. "Maya," he says as she sits.
She is wearing sweatpants and an old shirt, looking nothing like the lethal and dangerous member of the Royal Guard he knows her to be. It makes her features just the slightest bit softer.
"Rumour has it you've been walking around like you're about to be attacked," she says. "I thought I told you what we're like."
"Brutal and efficient."
The group of teenagers head out. The girl glances over her shoulder and meets his eyes.
"And honest."
The meal comes soon after.
He eats quickly and in silence, aware of the absurdity of a glass crow roosting in his feathers. Not least because she fucking starts feeding it strips of bacon. Within a few minutes, even the people outside are laughing at him.
"Was that necessary?" he asks once he's done with the meal and walking through the hallways.
"You need to trust us. You've been kicked out of school and your home. At the very least, don't be rude."
He sighs and returns the crow to his soul, stepping aside to let a group of women in white uniforms pass by. They're deep in conversation, not noticing either him or Maya.
"I'm in a place I've never been to and I know none of you. I don't know this place and I don't know the people."
"That's because you have to try. You've done what outside of eating and wallowing in your room? Usually, most people who get kicked out find themselves on the street."
They step outside.
The air is crisp and the heavy with the scent of newly cut grass. This section of the Imperial Villa isn't traditional in the slightest. It looks more like a post-modern piece of architecture, sweeping lines and sharp angle and a surprising amount of function—he's paid attention to how there are sections where barricades will pop up and there's wireless charging everywhere.
"And what, you expect me to just say hi to someone."
She waves at a group of soaking wet children. One waves back, smiling, before being dragged back and thrown in the water.
"Yeah, like that girl who was trying to get you to say hi. It's not like she's going to walk over to the big and scary Inquisitor, the bane of the abyss and horror to the horrors."
"They call me that?"
"No, they don't. You're special, but not everything revolves around you. They think you're lonely and weird and need to smile more. Just put a tiny bit of effort into talking to people here." She flicks his ear. "You're part of the household now."
He grits his teeth. "I never wanted this."
"Do you trust me?" Maya asks, sitting on a bench.
"Unfortunately."
There's a wall behind the bench. Fumikage leans against it when he sits, glad for the tree that shades him from the harsh sun.
She laughs. "You're growing older, my little crow. My Special Asset. If I asked, would you join the Royal Guard?"
"No," he says without hesitation. "We fight the same battle out of necessity. But I would not serve your Emperor. I would never die for him. You know that."
"I just had to ask. Sometimes things change after a full night's sleep."
"This never will. I may have burnt my bridges, but I will not take that step."
She strokes his head, removing a leaf that's tangled up in his feathers.
"Well, if you won't swear an oath of fealty, would you like to become a formal special asset?"
"What difference does it make? You people already show me respect."
"Everything," she answers. "Right now, you command respect because you fight the war, but you don't hold any true command. You're an ally, an outsider, not a true part of the household. If you formally become a special asset, you'll join us without swearing to protect his life."
"I see no benefit in doing this."
"You'll be granted the Imperial Mandate of Heaven," she says gently. "You'll be granted a dispensation to act with our name and be protected by our treaties. You'll become a commander of my forces."
"Just like that?" he asks, incredulous. "You would give me power over your people when you hardly know me. Trust given so easily is trust lost easily."
"I know you. You're honourable to a fault. It is your greatest weakness but also your greatest strength. You wouldn't betray us. Ever. One day you might leave but you wouldn't betray us, not unless I taught you how to hold a knife in the dark."
He doesn't answer immediately.
There are people here that he doesn't know and doesn't care for. But they've yet to harm him, yet to do anything to make themselves out as enemies. Perhaps this is all a grand manipulation and the children playing the water are actors. Maybe the girl who smiled at him is a plant designed to lull his senses.
Perhaps this is who they are. People with their own hopes and dreams and failings.
"Would you do it for me?" she asks when he's been silent for an hour.
"Why?"
"Because you're mine. And I want everyone who sees you to know that I stole you from UA. I want you to wear white silks with your head high and not be afraid of what anyone thinks. I want you to become mine in truth."
She is cold and calculating. But there is nothing about her that makes him doubt her words. This is nothing more than another means to bring him closer, to chain him to her influence. And yet, there is no malice.
"This oath goes two ways," Fumikage says, seeing the shape of it. "You will be mine as well. We'll be tied till the very end of all things."
"Yes."
Fumikage sighs. "For you, I will."
Only he can see the chain that wraps around his neck, that loops around her neck and binds them together. It isn't tight yet, hasn't been completed, but the shape of it is powerful. Because behind her he can see the dozens, perhaps hundreds of chains that bind her to a white chrysanthemum.
They bind her to the teenagers lying on the grass and talking. It binds her to the adults walking from one location to the next, bowed in deep conversation. One chain, thicker than all the rest, binds her to the tallest building in the Villa, the one that can only belong to the Emperor.
"How much did you manipulate me?" he asks.
She shrugs. "Every step of the way. I called one of my colleagues and he said you'd respond best to honesty and trust. So that's what I did. I never lied to you. I told you I was manipulating you and how I was doing it. I showed you something you would have to fight and hoped Aizawa would fall into old patterns of expulsion. He did that just that. A simple plan, don't you think?"
"What would happen if he didn't?"
"You'd chafe against the restrictions they imposed on you. You'd argue and lash out until you finally left."
"What happens now?"
"I'll organise the ceremony for later tonight. Make sure you're in full combat dress. And maybe talk to someone."
A burst of light blinds him. He blinks away the spots in his vision. When he can see clearly, he's alone once more.
Fumikage sighs. He doesn't know what to do. Every decision he makes only seems to make one thing worse no matter what he does. Lying to Aizawa got him expelled and the led to being kicked out. And now, he's binding himself closer to the root cause.
With a shrug, Fumikage picks a direction and walks.
"Excuse me," he says after an hour of walking and somehow walking in a circle four times.
He's speaking to someone close to his age that he picked out at random. "Inquisitor, right? That's what they call you." Fumikage nods. "Well, how can I help?"
"I am attempting to get my bearings of this place. Unfortunately, my sense of direction has betrayed me and I've circled here for the last hour."
"Alright, I can help."
Maybe it's not much, but he does get to know the man more. He's from a rather minor family in the Royal Family, so far from inheriting the Throne, he jokes that Fumikage would get it before he does.
He points out a few important locations: the different compounds housing the groups underneath the Royal Guard; the many training halls and their differences, some meant purely for quirk combat and some for more traditional forms of combat like the sword; the many security offices which he apparently has access to; and the compound which the Emperor and the most important of the Royal Family reside in—which he's allowed entrance to without question after a quick biometric scan.
It's a city within the city, the Imperial Villa within the Royal City, housing the thousands who are part of the household. Unlike the original Imperial Palace in Tokyo, this city was built for the express purpose of housing the Royal Family and those loyal to them. They're the largest employer in the region, run the police and are the local government.
He's somehow found himself playing a game of soccer with some of the boy's friends. His pants are wet and his waistcoat splotched with grass stains. But at least it lets him ignore his life problems.
A message pulls him away from his fun. It is from Maya, telling him to get ready. He sighs and says his goodbyes to the group, heads to his room and takes a shower.
He stands, dripping wet, and stares at his hero costume.
"This hasn't been a hero costume for a long time," he says, waiting for Dark Shadow's caustic response. Then he remembers and closes his eyes, bitter and angry.
There's a spot in the closet with his combat clothes. There are a few copies with minor variations, all useful in different situations.
He wears the black vest with its dark armour plate running sideways on the front and back. The trousers are still comfy and protective with their thigh plates and shin guards. He buckles them with the thick belt, checking the each of the pouches is full of pellets.
For a long moment, he stares at the cloak. One side is a light absorbent black and the other side is perfectly white. In the end, he puts it away.
He's not ready yet for that.
Without it, he just looks like anyone ready for a fight. With it, however, it reminds him too much of the hero Tsukuyomi he envisioned as a child.
Finally, he takes the knives that were gifted to him. There are two, both long as his forearm and straight edged. They are bone white with blue ripples, incredibly heavy for their size. Each is perhaps five pounds, absurd when he knows a katana is barely half that.
They are abyssal knives and don't need to follow conventions he is used to. The metal of the blades is frigid and sucks away his energy. When he flips one, it slices the air and leaves brilliant sparks. The sheath is white wood and there are straps on the back of his belt for them.
He sets off for another night of mistakes.
-TDB-
Toshinori Yagi is weary and feels his age more now than ever before.
His soul feels old and worn down by time, his spirit weathered by the winds of this changing era. Deep in his bones and in the wildfire of One For All, he knows he'll have to face the villain soon. Face him and win because no one else is strong enough to stand on that stage.
They call Toshinori the Perfect Fighter. Perhaps he isn't always the fastest and strongest and most experienced and technically gifted in every fight, most yes, but not all, and in those few fights, he still won.
He worries that he will not be able to match the man they call the strongest alive. By they he means those in the highest echelons of power, those who know of the secret wars fought. They have clashed once before, matched blows like two gods of war, and ultimately Toshinori came out the victor.
From the very jaws of defeat, broken and bleeding and practically dead, he struck down the villain.
With the return of his physical prime and with all the knowledge he has gained, perhaps the story will be different. One For All isn't the endless fire of his youth but a smaller wildfire, one that burns brighter and hotter. He lacks the hidden reservoirs he took for granted in America. There are limits to his strength.
Perhaps it will be enough. Perhaps it won't. Either way, he's prepared for the final battle.
"Izuku."
His successor turns, the false grin on his face replaced by a smaller, truer, smile. "Sensei."
"May we speak?"
Izuku nods.
Soon, they are in All Might's office, hidden and tucked away from the rest. It's not a particularly large thing, a rather recent acquisition at Nezu's insistence, but it has the advantage of being windowless and away from traffic.
Here, he can be Toshinori Yagi instead of All Might. Here he can let his power fade and return to his natural body.
He does, waiting for the pain. It takes him a moment to remember that there is no pain in his side thanks to Eri.
"My boy, I've treated you unfairly."
Izuku hums. "Tell me how."
That isn't the immediate rebuttal he expects. Toshinori isn't sure if that's a good thing or not.
"I am not so arrogant as to ignore my faults. I'm… I fail often as a teacher. There was no opportunity for you to pass. I gave you no options and you still forced one. At the skill level I fought at, you had every reason to win. Because you were smart and determined and brave. Taking that victory from you was cruel. I hope you can forgive me one day."
"I'm angry and upset but I forgive you."
"You shouldn't forgive so easily but I believe that is what makes you strong." Toshinori smiles. "I told you that years ago I was injured and a limit imposed on my abilities."
"Um, yeah?"
"Recently I battled a yakuza group. In their possession was a girl with an interesting quirk. You see, it can… reverse time to a degree."
"What does that…" His successor cocks his head in thought. "She healed you. Does that mean you still have One For All?"
Toshinori shakes his head. The fire is there, burning hot and bright. But it's nowhere close to the endless flames of his youth.
It certainly is nothing compared to the glorious lightning of his successor.
"No. One For All belongs to you and only you. In a few weeks, perhaps a few months if I am lucky, it will fade completely. But until then, I am stronger than I was before."
"Will you tell me the truth?" Izuku asks strongly. "I want to know. About Nana Shimura and the villain and this quirk. I want to know the truth about everything."
His successor stands tall when he asks this, unafraid of rejection. He's come far since he grabbed Toshinori's leg and revealed his greatest secret. There is a confidence he once lacked. The terror he once held when he discovered his true quirk is tempered now by resolve, his eyes a bright green well of determination and dark knowledge.
Izuku looks like a hero and it makes Toshinori prouder than ever before.
"I suppose it's time I tell you the entire truth about One For All and All For One."
And so Toshinori tells him the truth of the two great quirks. He tells Izuku what little he knows about the quirk and the monumental battles that have been fought in its name. He tells Izuku of the line of succession and the heroes that have fallen against the great villain.
"Nana died in Tokushima. She fell to All For One. It was a bad place to fight. Too many civilians. Anywhere else, I want to believe she could have won. But she would rather die than let a single civilian die. And she wouldn't let me get hurt."
Toshinori closes his eyes, remembering her glory.
"She was my mentor. I loved her greatly and she loved as you do. Fiercely and bravely. She would go the distance for any stranger. And for those she loved, she would hold the line till the end of time. She never asked that you stand as tall as she could or fight as long. All she asked is that you tried. And if you failed, she would carry you on her back and keep you safe.
"My smile is how I honour her legacy. She taught me to smile despite my fears. She taught me the power of smiling when it came to saving people. When I look at you, Izuku, I see the best pieces of her. You're just as determined and just as brave. I see her strength and nobility in you. If she were here, I know she would have taught you better than I ever could."
"But she isn't you," Izuku says. "You respect her, yes, but you're my teacher. My mentor. You're my friend. I grew up calling you All Might but I call you Toshinori now. Hawkmoon and Hero could come right now and offer to teach me."
Izuku smiles gently, something so innocent and compassionate that Toshinori feels his heart stops. This smile is the reason he put his faith in Izuku. Seeing it reaffirms his decision to trust Izuku.
"And I'd say no. Because they're not people. They're legends. And legends can't ever be your friends."
"Friends," he says, testing it. "Yes. I think it would be an honour to call you a friend."
"Why did you accept me when I lied about not having a quirk? I want to know if you chose me because I wouldn't stay dead."
"I think that may have been a part of it. It was an additional reason to entrust you with it."
Izuku swallows, his expression falling. "I see."
"My boy, I know I've failed you before, but I would like to think you know I care for you." He smiles. "Even without it, I had already chosen you. You, Izuku Midoriya, the kind boy who jumped in to save his bully. I didn't choose you for your quirk. I chose you because of your love for people. You love life like it's the most important thing in the universe. There's no one I could possibly trust with One For All more than someone who would love everyone they're saving without having met them. That's what makes you a good person, my boy."
Izuku stays silent, considering his words. He almost speaks, then stops. Toshinori is content to wait until he is ready. Things may be happening quickly, but he is willing to savour every moment with Izuku.
"I don't know if I like what society is right now," Izuku settles on. "I can't stand police offers suppressing children for having no idea about their quirks. I can't stand what the Imperial Family has done. I can't stand what my father did. I think I hate what UA stands for. Every day I spent in Hokkaido made me sick with grief and anger because I'm part of the problem. I want it all to change. I want to save the people we forget about. And I don't know if I can."
Toshinori nods, understanding more than anyone else possibly could.
Some days it seems futile to try. Some days it seems that his efforts amount to nothing. And when those days come, he forces himself out of bed and tries harder.
Better to try and fail, then fail to try. One step forward at a time. Do that, and eventually, you'll meet the rising sun.
"Then make me a deal."
"What deal?" Izuku asks.
"Let me battle the villain and wipe the slate clean for you. Let me end All For One's threat, and once that is done, the legacy of One For All shall fade."
Everything ends. Sometimes, though, the way it ends can be chosen. And what is an ending but the beginning of another story?
Toshinori smiles because he has faith in the boy-becoming-a-man to make something noble out of that ending.
"You are my successor and I trust you to choose a path to the future. I've always had to be an exemplar of the present against the dark past my nemesis represents. I've always had to remind people that they can choose to stand tall and walk towards the sun. But you can show them the road to walk."
"That's a lot to bear."
"Yes, it is. But I don't think anyone except you can carry that burden. You've come farther in such a short time than most will in ten lifetimes. When you stood against Stain, I knew I had made the right decision. You care about being both just and right in a world where most can't even care about one. Most importantly, you care about people."
"What if I'm not strong enough?"
"Then you make a strong foundation and pass on that responsibility to someone worthy. I'm not going to make you perpetuate a cycle. I want you to make your own choices free of the legacies of the past. That is the responsibility I place on you. I give you power without direction. It will be up to you and your morals to choose a path."
"What if I'm wrong? What if I make the wrong choices?"
"You won't."
"What about Tokoyami? Didn't he make the wrong choices? Isn't that why he's gone."
"I will have words with Nezu and Aizawa. I have no spent as much time with him as I would like, but he has never seemed anything less than an ideal hero candidate. Worry not on the matter and do your best at camp."
"I don't know if I even want to go," he says honestly. "I want to be a hero but I think the hero I want to be isn't the hero UA wants."
"Take it one day at a time and I'll sort things out. If after camp, when you aren't so angry, and you choose to move away from UA, then I will support that decision."
"Thank you."
"You can always call on me."
Izuku huffs. "Can I ask you a question?"
"You already did. But you can always ask me another."
"Do you regret anything?"
"I regret many things. I think what I regret most is never having my own children." Toshinori sighs tiredly. "Knowing that it makes me wonder if I became a teacher to fill that void."
"I thought you came to look for a successor."
"I did but… being a teacher is much like being a parent. I'm responsible for shaping who you become, responsible for setting an example you can follow. But I do that as All Might. No, it's all things around it that I've been seeking." He smiles. "In knowing Asui's refreshing bluntness or having Ashido tease me. It's seeing Kirishima's grin when I tell him stories about Crimson Riot or Bakugou staying quiet when I give him advice."
"How do you even have the time?"
"I make it. You're my successor but they're also my students and have lessons to learn. Not from the Symbol of Peace, but from their awkward teacher. Everyone knows the Symbol. There aren't any lessons All Might has to teach that they can't learn by reading about me. But an autobiography isn't the same as talking Monoma through the practicalities of his costume or showing Kendo how to deal with a sudden unbalanced mass."
Does doing so mean he doesn't spend as much time as a hero? Yes. But it also means spending time with the people he believes will shape the future. And that's more than worth it.
"I was proud of your interview and how you conducted yourself," Toshinori says gently. "When you're being honest, the qualities that make you who you are shine through brightest. Your kindness, your compassion, your empathy. Most of all, your genuine interest in people. I know you have doubts, but just remember that you're trying to save people and things will work themselves out."
"I'm terrified I won't be good enough to match you," Izuku admits. "I think it might be my greatest fear."
"It isn't.
Izuku frowns. "Then what is?"
"I know your greatest fear and I know you aren't ready to know it."
"I haven't been lying to myself."
"I know you haven't. This isn't because you are trying to hide from yourself but because you simply don't know who you are. I don't know the circumstances you'll discover it, but I want you to remember that I knew and that I still believe you're the only successor I could have."
Toshinori stands. "Take care at camp."
Izuku stands as well. "I will."
"And if you see a boy called Mirio Togata, tell him I said he's doing good work as a hero."
-TDB-
Fumikage walks through a dark corridor at night, tense and worried. This is another mistake that he's making, one that can't be undone. But it's already too late to run away. He's honour bound now to follow through with this. An oath once made must always be kept.
"They'll let me enter with weapons?" he asks, fingering the handle of one of his two white blades.
He doesn't know how to use them in a fight. Then again, he's always been a ranged fighter. And now, he's less that and more a commander of a horde.
"The entire Guard will be there," Maya says. "All six of us. I'd be able to stop you long before you even thought of hurting him. And though I like you, my little Inquisitor, I would gladly kill you to protect him."
He nods as they walk.
The draft is cold and he smells the saltwater. They're by the sea, he guesses, unsure since they took him in a helicopter with blackout windows. Given his sense of direction, all they had to do was circle a few times before he was completely lost.
"You won't have to bow or kneel," she tells him, her grip on his shoulder harsh. "There is no ritual or ceremony to this. But there is one rule. Speak only when he tells you to."
"Understood."
She nods, letting go of him. She vanishes in a burst of light, leaving him alone. He sighs and walks to the end of the corridor. Stairs greet him, a long flight that he takes carefully, unwilling to slip on the slick surface.
He's breathing hard by the time he reaches the top, his thighs burning. The knives weigh him down, pulling him back with their absurd weight. That is only compounded by the armour he wears.
For a moment he waits to hear Dark Shadow's insulting remark.
"I suppose you have every right to be angry," he says to the emptiness.
He exits and walks towards a new fate.
On either side are tall platforms, three chairs on them. He spies Maya and Itinerant on the left but isn't certain who sits next to them. The other side is just as foreign to him. Like this, they can scrutinise his every action.
The Emperor is an old man, eighty-three and in his twilight years, odd given that his daughter is a youth. His robes are traditional and emblazoned with the chrysanthemum of his dynasty. The man sits on a throne taller than those the Guard use and there is a sheathed blade across his lap atop a bundle of fabric.
He stops at the base of the dais, staring up at arguably the most influential man in Japan, a man capable of destroying cities whose line led to genocide. His wrinkles are deep and prominent, set in a sallow face. He's bald and has only a thin moustache for facial hair. You would never take him for someone who wields a quirk capable of destroying a landmass if you saw him on the street.
Until that is, you saw his eyes. Sharp, calculating, but deeply compassionate. An odd combination, one that makes Fumikage uncomfortable.
"State your name before us," the Emperor says, his voice deep as a mountain and just as loud.
He could lie to himself the shiver is from the cold wind on his bare arms. A man that old and frail looking shouldn't sound that strong.
"Fumikage Tokoyami."
The Emperor observes him for a long moment, judging him. Fumikage wonders what he sees. A scared boy? Someone in over his head? A piece on the board? Or someone worthy?
"You have fought where others would flee," the Emperor continues. "Age and nationality do not matter to the Imperial Household. They matter to the Throne. Are you of Japanese descent?"
"Yes."
"The Throne may be claimed by anyone of Japanese birth. As a Formal Special Asset to the Royal Throne, you are raised in precedence. Do you understand?"
No, I don't, he thinks. Maya told me no one of this.
"Yes," he says instead.
The Emperor stands.
He carries the sword and fabric in both hands, walking down the five steps of the dais to stand on the same level as Fumikage. The Emperor is taller than him, unsurprising given Fumikage's short stature, but even in his advanced age, the Emperor is an imposing figure at over six foot.
Fumikage might not be kneeling, but he feels tiny before the frail man.
"Guardswoman Agonist"—some amongst the Guard bursts out laughing, and there is the tiniest undercurrent of humour to the Emperor—"has vouched for your character. She claims you are honourable, just and compassionate. She claims you believe in human dignity and the sanctity of human life. Does she speak true?"
"Yes," he whispers.
"This blade is your oath," the Emperor says, presenting it to Fumikage. "You shall be an exemplar of mankind. Where others would flee from the dark, you will enter the battlefield first and leave it last. You shall be a Special Asset against the horrors of the abyss, the final shield between mankind and the desolation, and the first weapon against the nightmares of the dark below."
The Emperor extends the sword.
Fumikage takes it, finding it light and easy to carry. The sheath is made of leather he can't recognise, a dark metal that hurts to look at wrapping around its length. All in all, it is a beautiful thing.
He unsheathes the sword and recognises he blade immediately.
It is dark as midnight and emits smoke of true darkness. It is one of the abyssal weapons they searched for that day on the water with the Doki Mariner and Asui, cut down for a human to wield—just over a metre in total length, perhaps eighty centimetres devoted to the straight edged blade. He remembers the creature that wielded it, strong enough that it held off his dragon, Watatsumi, for a few minutes by wielding the sword now presented to him.
That blade reminds him of losing Asui as a friend, of being expelled and leaving home. It is his regrets and fear in physical form. It will forever be a mark of his shame.
It is also a sign of freedom.
This is his choice, no matter the consequences. No one has forced or coerced him to do this. Perhaps he has been driven to this, manipulated by outside forces. But, knowing the threat of the abyss, he would always come to a path like this. Perhaps not the Imperial family, but he would always fight to protect mankind from darkness. Maybe he would do it as a lone vigilante and maybe he would start his own group, but it would always come to this.
The blade is light as a feather. For the first time, he knows the weight of true freedom. And it is freeing.
"This oath, I do accept," Fumikage says.
He sheathes the blade and holds it protectively. He can feel the power it holds. More importantly, he can feel the destructive potential it holds.
The Emperor extends the dark bundle to Fumikage.
"Accept this token of our favour."
The cloak is thicker than he is used to but just as functional as the ones he wore before. But where the first was a plain black, and the second had a white interior, this one differs more than just the white fur hood.
The black side has the symbol of the Emperor, the Imperial Chrysanthemum: the flower is pure white against the dark background, but where the ornate gold swords would be are white blades, and where there would be a simple shield is instead intricately stitched to look like links of a chain.
The white side, however, differs greatly in loyalty. There is a moon, below which are a dragon and a crow and a hound. Gold chains bind the moon to the creatures. He styled himself after Tsukuyomi, the god of the moon. He is the moon binding a horde to his command. And stencilled in the moon is a tree.
Dark Shadow, he thinks, feeling the grief crash down on him.
"The white chrysanthemum represents loyalty and honesty," the Emperor says, unaware of Fumikage's turmoil. "Be loyal to your oaths. Be honest to your peers and to yourself. Do you understand the realm you have entered?"
No.
"Yes," he says instead, voice steady and deep.
"What is your true name? The name given to you by my Agonist." Someone behind him laughs again. "The name of your promise. The name to whom that blade was given."
He swallows, seeing the chains that will bind him to these people by doing this. And yet, all of this has been his choice. In the deepest parts of his soul, he knows he would make the same decisions again.
"I am the Inquisitor."
"Your duty shall be simple, Inquisitor. Seek corruption and cleanse it from this world. Protect it where others cannot. You will do this with the protection of the Imperial Household and with our authority. Wear the symbol of our household with pride."
He means the cloak. There's a choice to be made: to wear the side that represents the moon or the one that represents the imperial family.
He chooses the option that won't have a chance of pissing off six people who can kill him. The cloak is heavy, the material thick and sturdy. The white of the cloak is incredibly bright against his dark clothes.
He feels the straps on the cloak and figures out what they're for. With one smooth motion, he slots the sword in place. The slots run horizontal across the cloak and the sword follows with it. Which is for the best. At over a metre, the sword is two third's Fumikage's height. This way, at least, he can walk without feeling like an idiot.
This isn't meant for it to be unsheathed from his back. That's horrendously impractical. But for carrying a sheathed weapon at a formal event, this works.
"Accept this Mandate of Heaven and join your power to ours."
A part of him understands that this ritual is not complete. There is something more, the final act to bind them together.
Power.
The Emperor gives him trust, but most of all, he gives Fumikage power. This is the power to act as he pleases, backed by one of the mightiest entities in Japan. To have no doors barred to him, to be the highest authority in any city. This power may bring Fumikage success, but it may also bring ruin to the Royals should he abuse it. And now he must show the power he will, in turn, give, the power that may bring the Emperor success or perhaps ruin Fumikage.
Long chains of darkness materialise from his body. Slowly, his hounds manifest behind him, a legion of quicksilver beasts that feasted on time itself. They drip acid from the dark maws, bristling in annoyance that there are no enemies to battle. A flock of crows, their feathers formed of glass unshattering hover above him, patient and cunning and ready to devour gods at his command.
Finally, his second companion appears. Watastumi is large, towering over the gathering and casting a shadow that encapsulates them all. This darkness is the shadow of his intent, the vessel of Fumikage's right to rule as a king. Tonight, he grants it to the energy to be as tall as a building.
"This mandate, I do accept."
The Emperor hands him a simple octagon. It has the white chrysanthemum on one side and a moon bound in chains on the other.
"We recognise you, Inquisitor," the Emperor says, not afraid of the beasts arrayed before him. "May the odds ever be in your favour."
There is a flash of light and the entirety of the Guard stands behind their Emperor. He notices one of the men is turned around, facing the wrong direction, and another looks queasy.
"This island was raised by my power for your vigil," the Emperor says. "It will exist only for this night. Use it as you please."
Itinerant steps forward. A wave of something that hurts to look at—frozen time, his soul supplies—engulfs the group. In a moment, they are gone, leaving him alone.
He stares blankly for a minute.
"I was just ditched," he says bitterly.
Then he gets up and takes a walk.
The cloak, at the very least, keeps him warm as he explores the island. There isn't much in the way of vegetation though the scent of dead fish is cloyingly strong the longer he walks. The island is sloped, gently where the gathering occurred, and more severely near the centre.
In the centre is a bowl filled with dead aquatic life and plant matter. It's new since he can't see any obvious signs of rot or infection.
Fumikage shrugs and lets his hounds and crows free. They may as well clean up.
He finds the highest spot of the island on the opposite end. It takes perhaps two hours of hard hiking before he reaches the spot. From here, he can look over the entire island. His dragon is flying somewhere in the distance whilst his horde is busy eating.
Right now, his soul is empty but for one entity. He sits cross-legged in concentration, the sheathed sword resting on his thighs.
Dark Shadow, he says, searching the deepest recesses of his soul for the demon. He finds it and pushes at the bond between them lightly.
What do you want? it snaps venomously.
I have a gift for you. This is not an attempt at an apology. Please.
The demon rises to the top of his soul and manifests in the real world. It is large in the darkness, eyes a cruel yellow. It observes his thick cloak with disdain, bristling in annoyance.
You've chained yourselves to them.
"Yes," he agrees. "It is a mistake but I have no other choices. Being a hero is beyond me now. But, protecting this world is not."
Dark Shadow makes a sound of disgust, looking around carefully. It spots his horde tearing into the dead marine life. Right now, they're fighting over a whale carcass. They watch one hound dart across and steal the carcass as the crows fight off the rest of the pack.
The King who bows. That is what they will call you.
"I did not bow. But I also did not come to battle you."
He raises the blade in both hands reverently. It is light, much lighter than a sword its length should be. Very literally light as a feather.
"This is my gift. I do not know what metal this is forged from, but I know it can sever the bonds between us. If you wish to stay with me, let it be by your choice. I will not force you to stand by me. No matter my anger, I can never take away you will. Not when you hold that blade."
Dark Shadow takes the blade between two long talons. It examines the dark sword, tilting it this way and that.
It was made from a shattered infernal engine in the depths of the abyss and forged to this shape by the godflame's might. This blade represents the dominions between your two peers. It is a Blade of Disparity between true dark and eternal heat. You would give this treasure to me without hesitation?
Fumikage nods. "You were my first friend even when you opposed me. I will not force you to stay. Not you and never you. There must be trust between us even if it is held by a sword."
A/N:
Welcome to Season IV of the Dark Below. There are moments in this that I've been waiting to tell for what feels like years. Some scenes are almost entirely unchanged. This season is the culminating of most of the plot threads I've built up over this story. I promised you that things would be wild and crazy. I promised you a war and I mean to deliver it very soon. It won't be pleasant, and it might very well not be happy, but it's time.
This is the Season of Ascension. But for one person to ascend, another must fall. Brace yourselves because people don't pull punches in this story.
Thank you and take care.