Short Interlude, because I wanted to share a little of All Mights mindset with you. He's not necessarily an asshole - he's just not a hero for everyone anymore and he's lived in a black and white world for a while. Hope you like this.

Thank you for your comments! They're a great motivation for me!

Answering Section:

Shadowing: Yep, he's really not the best with words and kinda has a habit of only seeing what he wants to see imho.

KrypticKoala:Thank you, I'm glad you still enjoy this story :)

wildtrance: Haha, yeah, her head's kinda in a bad place right now and interesting theory :D

ThePirateQueen367: He's far from perfect, which will be (hopefully) explored a little more throughout the story, but I won't go and bash him - at least I hope I won't. Not that much of a character-bashing fan - altough he will get his ass handed to him in one way or another.

History will decide if I'm a villain or a hero - Harlan Ellison

Interlude: The Number One Hero

All Might wasn't one to ponder over his actions very often. If there were good guys, he helped them, if there were bad guys, he punched their lights out. It was as simple as that.

And then there was her.

He'd been quirkless before, but it felt like a lifetime ago. He only vaguely recalled the feelings of envy and disappointment that left his shoulders hunched and his head bowed back then. It hadn't been that bad, being quirkless, had it? He remembered the smile of his teacher - so bright and full of happiness.

It couldn't be.

He'd saved her from a villain, evil and ghastly and the stuff of nightmares. But before he did, as he jumped over her form, he'd looked down – just for a moment. And he'd seen it.

A smile.

Not like his teacher – full of hope and not like a person happy to be rescued, no. It was a bloodcurdling one, edging on feral.

He'd rescued her anyway, although he wasn't sure about her being one of the good guys.

And while he rambled on, he observed her. Watched as her fist close tightly around a knife of all things, noticed the long leggings covering her legs – allowing free movement even with the skirt the local middle-schools uniform consisted of and the way she stood surely, ready to fight or run at a moments notice.

Her eyes were wide – filled with a cautious wonder and he wasn't sure.

So he'd prepared to leave, her stare making him slightly uncomfortable, reminding him of something – someone?

And when she'd told him – confessed to him – about her quirklessness and asked him if she could ever be a hero – because that had been all her question amounted to, he'd been prepared to be nice, to put her down gently.

But her eyes had been spitting fire at him, green slits alight with something close to a wild, uncontrollable forestfire, lapping at trees, animals and humans alike – without a care what she took down with her.

And he'd decided he didn't want her to be someone. She'd felt more villainous and dangerous in that moment than many he'd seen for a long time.

It unsettled him.

But she was quirkless and him taking her down a notch would only help her in the long run. Playing hero with that gaze – she'd get everyone around her killed.

He tried to remember back then, before One for All –

It hadn't been that bad, had it?

It couldn't have been.

In an alley, only two building blocks away, a villain left his plastic prison.

He could not believe his luck.

Who knew the number one hero could be so easily distracted?

A gurgling laugh echoed eerily.