Izuku's feet had barely touched the earth before Mina was sprinting towards him. He had scarcely lowered Fumikage to the ground before she leaped into his arms, sending him staggering backwards.

Mina pulled him close, and brought her lips to his, feeling his arms encircle her in return; only when her lungs finally screamed for air did she let him go. Some part of her refused to believe it, could not comprehend that he had kept his promise to come back. The rest of her was too busy crying with joy to care.

Izuku smiled as he held her tight. "I'm glad you're okay," he murmured softly.

Mina forced herself not to cry, blinking back tears of relief as she answered, "Me too." Then, calmer and in better control of herself, she glanced down at Fumikage, who was sitting up, but it seemed like that was all he could do; he was bruised and broken, but somehow, impossibly, alive.

He looked up at her, recognition blossoming in his eyes. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something to her.

Then, her eyes hardened, and she looked away. Fumikage could only watch her, something fading out of his eyes. He hung his head, and the moment passed.

Carefully, without looking down at the man who had tried to kill her, Mina asked, "So, you didn't…"

She couldn't find the words to complete the question. How could she explain the whirlwind of hopes and fears that had suddenly been left lurching in her chest, how seeing Fumikage beaten but alive at Izuku's feet somehow stoked a spark of hope in her chest?

Izuku didn't need her to explain; he could read her at a glance. He nodded once. "No," he said softly. "I almost did…but that wouldn't have been justice."

Mina felt something in her soar at that, proof that, despite everything, Izuku had listened and listened well to Faultline. But still, she had more questions than answers.

"What is justice, then?" she asked softly.

Izuku hesitated-then, slowly, turned to look at Fumikage too, who was looking up at him with guarded, cautious eyes. There was danger in that gaze-but there was hope, too.

"I was going to ask…the same thing," he rasped.

"I don't know," Izuku admitted, a soft smile on his face as he looked around at the burning, bleeding city. "But….but I don't think justice is a thing you find like that. It's a thing you seek."

Fumikage raised an eyebrow. "Please don't make my head hurt any more than it already does," he muttered.

Izuku snorted, and even Mina managed a smile. Izuku shrugged sheepishly. "I don't have all the answers," he said. "But if either of us are going to find them…we'll have to work together. Take this one step at a time. We'll figure out the path forward-I promise. But we have something else we need to take care of, first."

Fumikage looked around, then, at the pitch-black city, the air still filled with smoke and screams. He nodded heavily.

"This has to end," Izuku said firmly. "Your war is over, Tokoyami."

Fumikage met his eyes. "And so is yours," he replied, still resolute, still powerful even when he could barely sit up.

Izuku nodded. "Do you have a way to contact your people?" he asked. "To have them stand down?"

Fumikage raised a hand to the side of his head, clearly checking for something. When it came away, he held a communicator-somehow, incredibly, still intact and functional. He replaced it-but when he met Izuku's eyes, there was still steel in them.

"And how should I tell them to stand down?" Fumikage asked. "My people have been dreaming of this day for years-decades, for some of them. They won't stop just because I tell them to, not in the heat of the moment. What could I tell them that would make them listen?"

Izuku met his gaze evenly. "If they won't retreat," he replied, "Tell them to come here. To let us explain. I'll tell the heroes to stand down too-we'll get everyone in our line of sight, to make sure this ends."

Fumikage's expression remained stony and unreadable. "Will they listen to you?" he asked. "Will they think it isn't some trick, or that you've lost your nerve somehow?"

Izuku smiled, though it held no humor. "They trust me," he said simply. "All of them. Can't say I understand it, but they'll follow me. They'll listen. Can you say the same?"

Mina watched as a thousand emotions suddenly flickered across Fumikage's avian features; surprise, recognition, awe, bitterness, respect, and, finally, the raw sort of understanding that can only come from recognizing a kindred soul.

"Yes," he said, with the air of a man finally accepting a truth he had run from. "Yes, I can."

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. And then, finally, Fumikage stretched out a bloody, twisted hand, half flesh and half shadow. Izuku's smile widened, and he took Fumikage's hand with his own.

Slowly but surely, Fumikage allowed Izuku to help him to his feet. Once he was standing, swaying a little with the effort, Fumikage told Izuku, "I don't know if this is foolish or not. But if it is…then I suppose we'll be fools together."

Izuku nodded. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For trusting me."

Fumikage sighed, slumping against the twisted metal of the fallen statues, exhaustion plain in every line of his body. "Don't waste it," he said, low and rough and deep.

"I won't," Izuku promised. "I swear, I will never fail you or your people again."

Fumikage raised his head at that, eyes glittering with an emotion Mina couldn't name. "You," he informed Izuku, "are the strangest abovegrounder I have ever met."

Izuku grinned, recalling Mina's bright eyes as she told him the same thing. "Yeah," he replied. "I get that a lot."

With that, the two of them raised their hands to their ears, and spoke.

As the words rippled out over the airwaves of the broken city, what was supposed to be the fiery beginning of a war became its quiet end. One by one, heroes and mutants paused, ferocious battles coming to stunned, confused, awkward halts, brought up short by the impossible orders they were receiving.

Stand down. Cease fighting. Come to the central plaza at once.

Men and women who had been trying to rip each other apart minutes before began to lower their fists-slowly, nervously, not quite trusting their enemies to not prove treacherous. But they did not, and bit by bit, a strange, eerie quiet settled over the city. There were no more screams, no more battle cries; only silence, and the lingering crackle of the flames.

Mina watched, stunned, as they began to trickle into the plaza; there were no curses, no threats, no insults. Just two armies, bearing their wounded on improvised stretchers, tired and stunned and more than a little out of sorts-but relieved that, one way or another, it was all over.

All any of them had ever wanted was for the madness to stop. Perhaps it had. Maybe this bizarre, impossible sight wasn't a world gone mad-maybe it was, instead, a world gone sane.

Mina waited anxiously for the others to appear in the steady tide of Outcasts and heroes taking up positions on either side of the twisted remnants of the statues of Craton and Faultline (a divide as practical as it was symbolic-nobody wanted tensions to flare back up again.) She hadn't seen them since the battle started; the thought of losing one now, when everything was finally seeming to go right, scared her to her core.

It was a long, tense wait, though it wasn't without odd, memorable sights; Chojuro Kon being carried into the plaza by his men, broken and twisted and smiling like a man blessed, the dark form of Kugo on his heels, radiating a presence that made men stand aside as he carved a swathe through the crowd; Akari limping along, her eyes wide at the impossible sight in front of her, staggering-only to be caught by an equally beat-up Keigo, who grinned at her as they made their way to the nearby medics.

And then, finally, Mina saw a now-familiar shock of red, spiky hair, its owner grinning widely as he appeared.

The sight of Ejiro upright and walking and alive nearly made Mina crumple to her knees in disbelief. Before she could realize what she was doing, she raced across the plaza to tackle him into a hug, making him grunt with surprise.

"Didn't think you were the hugging type," Ejiro cracked as Mina's grip threatened to crack his ribs.

Mina scoffed, though she did break off the hug and step backwards, golden eyes glinting with suppressed tears. "Sorry, I don't normally watch people fucking die in front of me, you bastard," she snapped. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Ejiro smiled, far more understated and gentle than he usually was. "Thanks," he replied. "But you should know by now that it takes more than that to kill me."

Mina nodded. "Figures you'd be too tough to die like that," she sighed. "You're like a cockroach; too annoying to die."

Ejiro staggered back, clasping a hand to his chest in mock pain. "Ouch, that's harsh," he muttered. "I think I liked you hugging me better."

Mina snorted. "Don't get used to it," she warned him. "And try not to get yourself almost killed again, please?"

It seemed Ejiro knew when not to push his luck; instead of retorting, he simply nodded. Then, he said, "Oh, yeah. I ran into someone who says they know you."

He gestured over his shoulder with a grin. Mina craned her neck to see what he was pointing at-then broke into a run again as she saw who it was.

Mezou didn't even flinch as Mina's arms encircled his torso, though he did grunt a little at the unexpected hit. He shifted the weight in his arms-which Mina now saw was Kamakiri's unconscious body-and wrapped Mina up in a tight, many-armed hug.

"You came," she murmured softly.

He nodded. "Always," he rumbled, his voice deep and heavy in his chest.

"Hey, do I get a hug?" another voice cracked from just behind them. Looking up, Mina saw Ochako and Tsu limping into the plaza, Ibara carried over their shoulders. All three of them looked beaten up, but they were alive-and Mina knew how much of a blessing that was.

"I'd ask for one too, ribbit," Tsu agreed, "but I don't think my bones can take a hug right now."

Mina gave her one anyway-gently, of course. Ochako, too, although catching Ibara in the middle was a little awkward; the vine-haired woman bore it with as much grace as she could, considering the circumstances.

When Mina pulled back, her eyes were shining. "I can't believe it's really over," she said.

Mezou raised an eyebrow, his monstrous jaw twisted curiously. "Is it?" he asked. "Everyone in the city saw Atlas take down that giant monster. If Fumikage's dead-"

Mina winced. "Uh, about that," she muttered, interrupting Mezou.

Mezou blinked, stunned into silence; beside him, Ejiro watched them with a strange look in his eye. Ibara's eyes, which had gone wide with horror, shimmered with something that might have been hope.

Sighing, Mina motioned wordlessly for them to follow her. As they did so, they worked their way through medical personnel arriving, treating heroes and mutants alike; Mezou left Kamakiri under the watchful eye of one of the medics, and finally, they all came to a stop in front of Izuku, who sat in quiet, focused conversation with Fumikage.

It was a bizarre sight; the two men clearly barely trusted each other, but they were working together all the same, managing the chaotic scene that was half speech and half refugee camp, fielding questions from confused heroes and lieutenants.

At last, Izuku turned away from one of those questioners, and his eyes landed on them as Fumikage lay back against the twisted metal of the fallen statues, clearly still exhausted. His eyes brightened.

"It's good to see you again, Shoji," he said warmly after accepting hugs from Ejiro and Ochako, holding out a hand for him to shake.

Mezou didn't take it; he merely held Izuku's gaze evenly, wearing an unreadable expression. Behind him, Ibara ignored it all to fly to Fumikage's side, ignoring her injuries to bury her face in his chest, sobbing frantically with relief.

"Atlas," Mezou said tonelessly. "I would say the same, but you are fucking my sister, and I haven't decided yet whether I'm going to kill you for that or not."

Ejiro let out a short, surprised wheeze at that, doubling over in an attempt to control his laughter. Mina and Ochako felt no such need; they started howling with laughter, while Tsu simply watched with pride and satisfaction in her eyes.

"You're just now realizing this, ribbit?" she asked her husband.

An eye formed on one of Mezou's hands, looking at his wife.

"It's the first time I've been unable to make myself not think about it," he replied. "And I have to admit, I really want to punch him right now."

Izuku winced. "Please don't," he muttered, lowering his hand. Mina stepped up beside him, taking his hand in hers, lacing their fingers tightly together. She glared at Mezou, as if daring him to protest.

Mezou held her gaze for a long moment, then, without saying a word, nodded slowly, a smile creeping across his wide face.

That smile didn't last long, but it was long enough to make the world a little less dark, before he turned to look at Fumikage, who was weakly patting Ibara on the back as the woman cried with relief.

"What the hell have you done, Atlas?" he asked, though there was no anger in it.

Izuku grinned sheepishly. "Something stupid, probably," he replied.

Mezou nodded. "I can see that," he said dryly. "But why?"

Izuku looked up at him, and there was no sheepishness in his eyes when he spoke. "Because I refuse to kill him," he answered. "That wouldn't be justice."

Mezou looked like he wanted to say several things to that, but before he could, Fumikage stood-with great effort and more than a little help from Ibara-and came over to Izuku, though he couldn't meet Mezou's gaze at all.

"Everyone is here, Atlas," he rasped, "but now…we need to figure out what to tell them."

Izuku nodded. Scanning the perimeter of the plaza, he spotted a news crew, camera out and rolling as they panned over the impossible sight-two armies, side by side, sitting quietly and peacefully as they treated their wounds.

He held out a hand to Fumikage. "Let's give them an explanation, then," he answered.

Fumikage nodded, and took his hand. With a single leap, Izuku got both of them up onto the fallen head of Craton, right in front of both the heroes and the mutants. Fumikage stood beside him, looking out over the sea of thousands of people watching expectantly.

They trusted him and Fumikage. They were willing to listen.

As the cameras rolled, Izuku knew that that was all they could hope for.

He took a deep breath, and lowered his head.

The greatest hero in Japan, the little quirkless boy, the legend of the Underground, spoke.

"My name is Izuku Midoriya," he said, voice booming in the sudden silence. "Most of you know me as Atlas. I am the protector of this city-the protector of all of Japan. The Symbol of Peace. And I have failed you all."

A rustle went through the crowd at that, the mingled voices of mutants and heroes alike, unsteady, uncertain-but listening.

Izuku took another deep breath. He would do what he had promised to himself; tell the truth. No more lies. No more secrets. No more hiding. He said, "This battle…this war…it's my fault. It is because of my failings, my blindness, that the mutants of this city felt pushed to this. I should have seen the Underground for what it is-a lie built on the backs of the oppressed. I should have recognized that an unjust peace is not something to protect-that without justice, there is no peace at all."

Izuku paused again, searching for resistance, for contradiction in the eyes of the armies beneath him. He saw none.

"I should have been better," he said in a voice that felt like a whisper, but carried like a shout in the dead, still air. "It should not have taken so long for the most amazing person I've ever met to change my mind, to open my eyes to how things really were. And for that, I am more sorry than I can ever put into words."

He bent at the waist, into a deep bow, head down as he faced towards the cameras. Then, he rose again.

"But I know an apology must ring hollow, with the blood I have shed, all the pain that I and other heroes have inflicted," he acknowledged. "So…it can't just be my words, but my actions that change. And they will."

The crowd began to murmur; Izuku saw shock on the face of heroes and mutants alike, disbelief mixing with grief, turning to hope. It was then that the last hesitation drained out of him; he knew in his heart, finally, that this was right.

He raised his head further, until his eyes were boring into the unblinking, infinite pits of the camera lenses. Without flinching, he said, "To the people of this country, and to all the mutants of the Depths: this war is over. And peace will be different. Never again will mutants be trapped beneath the ground, or treated as lesser. The discrimination, the abuse, all of it ends today. This is the promise I offer you, Outcasts: from this day forward, I will stand beside you as you demand the world change, that it be better. You have won."

There were no cheers, no rounds of applause. There was only stunned, hopeful silence, from the heroes as well as the mutants. The whole world seemed to fall silent, as if nobody knew what to say.

Izuku turned, and stepped down from the head of the statue. As he did, he extended his hand to the tired, staggering form of Fumikage Tokoyami.

Tokoyami took it. They shook.

It was then that the cameras flashed, and the cheers began-slow at first, hesitant, but growing and spreading from hero to mutant and back again, as a war ended and a new peace came, as those who had fought the same war for decades upon decades realized that it was, finally, going to be over.

But it wasn't over yet.

As Fumikage stepped up to speak himself-a speech laying out the Outcasts' next moves, delivered with shocking poise and ease for a man so utterly exhausted-Izuku slipped behind the statue, exchanged a brief, meaning-laden kiss with Mina, then leaned against the bronze behemoth, waiting for the backlash he knew was coming.

Sure enough, it took less than five minutes for his phone to start ringing. As soon as Izuku accepted the call and held the phone to his ear, the voice of the Head Commissioner came blasting from the speakers.

"Atlas," the man hissed, "What the hell was that?"

Izuku didn't even bother hiding his merciless, bared-tooth grin; it wasn't like the Commissioner could see it, anyway. "Head Commissioner," he said warmly. "Did you like it? It should be on every television in the country by now."

"That was the most egregious insubordination I've ever seen!" the Commissioner nearly shouted. "You are a hero, Atlas, not a government official! You don't have the authority to negotiate a…a peace treaty with terrorists!"

Izuku snorted. "Funny," he replied. "I just did."

The Commissioner slowed down, for just a moment, taking a deep breath. "I don't know what you were thinking," he growled dangerously, "But it doesn't matter. You cannot promise to repeal laws-you don't have that power."

Izuku shrugged. "I don't," he agreed. "But here's the thing: the people who do are afraid of me."

The Commissioner went silent, and Izuku kept talking. "Not of my Quirk," he continued. "Of my popularity. They're elected officials, after all. How long do you think they'd last if it became common knowledge that the Number One Hero considered them to be bigger threats to justice and peace than any villain?"

The Commissioner stammered, clearly searching for a retort, and failing to find one. Finally, he weakly insisted, "You can't."

Izuku's grin widened. "I don't even have to," he corrected. "I just have to imply it. You see, the more I think about it, the more I realize how big of a bully pulpit being the Symbol of Peace really is. I don't need to endorse candidates; I just have to convince politicians that I might. And that'll be enough to send them scurrying. I guarantee you, after my speech, those laws will be repealed within the month."

The Commissioner's willpower seemed to finally return to him. Once more, his voice dropped low, threatening. "You will pay for this, Atlas," he snapped.
Izuku raised an eyebrow. "Will I?" he asked.

"Of course you will!" the Commissioner thundered. "I'll have you disciplined-"

Izuku sighed. He wished he didn't have to do this, but it seemed like the only way to get it through the Commissioner's skull. He thought of Craton and Faultline, of what he'd given up to be with her, of what he had said to Izuku and Mina, down there beneath the world.

He turned to Mina, who was standing beside him, watching the whole thing play out. There was a question in his eyes.

She hesitated, golden pupils glistening with fear. She shook her head. "Don't," she whispered, knowing what he was going to do, knowing what he was willing to give up, knowing she wasn't worthy of it.

Izuku smiled. "I love you," he mouthed. Then, he turned his attention back to his phone, and his eyes hardened once more.

"Very well," he sighed. "I quit."

The Commissioner went instantly, utterly silent. It stretched on and on, a shocked, helpless void in the air.

Finally, the Commissioner whispered, "What?"

"You heard me," Izuku replied, unyielding, digging the knife in deeper. "I. Quit. Early retirement. I've been thinking about it, and I've decided it's time to settle down. Maybe start a family, you know?"

He smiled at Mina as he said it. She gaped at him, a little scandalized-and then she thought about it more, and blushed. She…didn't hate the thought as much as she thought she would've. Especially if it was with him.

Once more, the Commissioner was silent. Eventually, he said quietly, "You're bluffing. You have to be bluffing."

Izuku's smile only got wider, and more brutal, an unnerving sight in the dark city as Mina looked on. "Are you willing to take the risk that I'm not?" he countered.

Softly, the Commissioner asked, "You're really willing to stake your whole career on these…these mutants?"

Izuku's grip on his phone tightened. "This is my career, Commissioner," he replied, no longer smiling, voice deadly soft. "Helping people. Protecting people. I don't care who I protect them from; villains, monsters…or you."

That, once again, silenced the Commissioner for a very long time. Izuku wasn't in the mood to give him the time to mull it over, though.

"Time to choose, Commissioner," he pressed. "Your Symbol of Peace, or the status quo. You can't have both-and if I go, then how long will it last, anyway?"

When the Commissioner spoke again, it was soft, nearly defeated. "You're not the man I thought you were, if you're willing to let innocents get caught in the crossfire," he said.

Once, that would have seared Izuku to the bone, would have made him renege on everything. But not now. Not when he could feel Mina's eyes on him-could see the city burning around him still. "You're the one who put a whole city in the crosshairs of an army, Commissioner," he said, low and dangerous. "This whole damn war-it happened because you wanted it to. Again and again, we begged for peace. And you said no. And when it came, who was fighting? It sure as hell wasn't you. I argued and begged for peace-but when war came anyway, I ended it. You hid in a bunker."

The Commissioner didn't respond, for so long that Mina thought he'd called Izuku's bluff. Then, finally, he sighed, "Fine. You win, Atlas."

Izuku smiled. "Always a pleasure, Commissioner," he said, a vicious light in his eyes. Then, he hung up. Looking at Mina, he said, "Well. That worked out alright, didn't it?"

She laughed, but her eyes were afraid. "You've just made an enemy of the Head of the Hero Commission," she pointed out. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
Izuku shrugged. "I'm not afraid of making enemies," he said softly. "If I was, nothing would ever change."

Mina sighed. Instead of arguing the point, she slipped her arms around Izuku, pulling tight to him as he held her by the waist.

"It's over," she murmured. "I can't believe it's really over."

Izuku smiled sadly, then shook his head. With one hand, he pointed outwards, to a dark figure making its way towards them. Mina's eyes hardened when she saw who it was.

"Not quite," Izuku murmured. "There's just one last loose end to deal with."

Mina's smile was an ugly, vicious thing when she wanted it to be, cruel and hateful, bared fangs and bloody teeth. She was smiling that smile now.

"By all means," she chuckled. "Go ahead."

Izuku never let go of Mina's hand as Mayor Takao puffed his way through the tangled, celebrating crowd towards them.

When the man finally arrived, it was with a red face, sweat on his brow, and that same smarmy politician's grin on his face all the same. He held out his hand for Izuku to shake.

"I'll be damned, Atlas!" he chuckled. "You've truly outdone yourself."

Izuku didn't take Takao's hand. The only emotion on his face was faint amusement and disdain. "Hello, Takao," he said without emotion, eyes fixed on the mayor's face. "Have you met my girlfriend?"

Eyebrow raised, Takao finally picked up on the tone of Izuku's voice. Dropping his hand, he replied, "Our acquaintance has been…brief."

As Takao's gaze swept over her, Mina snickered, white teeth flashing. "You could call it that," she agreed. "And yet, I'm already tired of you."

Takao looked irritated at that, but said nothing. Instead, he turned back to Izuku, and said, "You've done one hell of a job here, I have to admit. Tell me-is their leader dead, or just in custody?"

Izuku grinned. It was a brutal expression, vicious and flickering with lightning. "About that," he replied. "It seems you're a little out of date, Takao. Haven't you seen the news lately? My broadcast should be all over by now."

Takao frowned, wheels clearly turning in his fine-tuned mind. "It's not like you to play games, Atlas," he said, simpering. "What are you up to?"

Izuku's smile broadened. "Something big, actually," he replied. "I'm done being a pawn. I'd rather be the player, you see."

Takao's eyes narrowed. "And what does that mean?" he asked.

"It means that you aren't going to be oppressing the mutants of this city anymore," Mina said, speaking instead of Izuku.

Turning to her, Takao said, "Oh? And who's going to stop me?"

Izuku smiled again. "Us," he said simply.

Takao opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of footsteps made him whirl. Seemingly out of nowhere, in response to Izuku's words, their friends slipped around the crevices of the shattered statues, into the private, invisible corner they'd now trapped Takao in. Ejiro, Ochako, and Momo were there, smiling ominously; so too were Mezou and Tsu, their eyes hard and unnerving.

For a man now hemmed in by some of the most dangerous people in Japan, Takao did an admirable job of not showing any fear. Indeed, he seemed mildly amused as he asked, "Is this supposed to be a threat, Atlas? I thought you knew better than that."

"It shouldn't have to be," Izuku replied. "The fact that this country has to be threatened before it changes is a black mark on us all."

Takao snorted. "You're so goddamn naive, it's touching," he said. "And I still don't see how you think this will change anything. You can't touch me, and we both know it."

Izuku raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?" he asked mildly, lightning traveling lazily down his neck and across his arms, flickering in and out of view.

Mina saw Takao hesitate, then; perhaps it was the dark, smoky landscape of the burning city all around them, or the murmuring mass of mutants and heroes in the square, or just the look on Izuku's face as he stared Takao down, but uncertainty crept onto the mayor's face and refused to leave.

When he was sure Takao understood that the old rules might not protect him here, Izuku leaned in, and smiled viciously.

"Now," he said. "Let's you and me have a talk, yeah?"

Takao recovered enough to meet his eyes with that same smirk on his face. "I don't see what we have to talk about, Atlas," he shot back. "After all, I still own you."

Izuku and Mina exchanged a glance. Then, they laughed.

"What, your pictures?" Izuku asked dryly. "Takao, we've been filmed kissing on national television at this point. Everyone in Japan knows about me and Mina, now. You have nothing on us."

Takao's eyes went wide; it seemed he'd forgotten that crucial detail, in the whirlwind of violence and chaos that had consumed the night. He took a nervous, unsteady step backwards.

"So," Izuku continued, "would you like to hear what I'm thinking you should do?"

Takao hesitated, eyes flicking to the faces of the heroes and mutants behind him. Then, he sighed. "Very well," he replied. "Let's hear it."

Izuku grinned. "Let's see," he began, running down the list. "I would suggest you begin by repealing city laws that oppress mutants or deny them rights, ban them from the upper levels, that sort of thing."

Takao nodded slowly.

"Next," Izuku continued, "You're going to publicly agree to Fumikage Tokoyami's demands, and recognize the Outcasts as an organization."

Takao said nothing.
"And finally," Izuku finished, "You're going to step down as mayor."

That finally got a reaction out of Takao. He scoffed loudly, and snapped, "Now that's going too far, Atlas. I'll admit, you almost had me there-but what makes you think I would ever resign just because you tell me to?"

Izuku snorted. "Oh, I don't expect you to do it because I tell you to," he answered. "I expect you to do it because of what the alternative is."

Takao raised an eyebrow. "And what is that alternative?" he demanded.

In response, Izuku stepped forwards, towering over Takao, their stark physical difference highlighting the contrast between them. "Simple," he said. "I out you for attempted blackmail-and probably arrest you right afterwards. And before you think I'd be too afraid of public backlash, I assure you, I do not care. My actions today are already going to cause plenty of blowback. I don't think your precious pictures will change anything-assuming they don't just get drowned out by the flood of much more interesting news coming out of the Underground today."

Mina saw Takao go pale at that; it seemed the thought hadn't occurred to him, of the risk he now faced.

Izuku advanced, relentless, refusing to let Takao get space. "In case you don't already realize, let me make this clear," he said. "You can't stop what's coming. Your reign is over, Takao. You're going to step down, withdraw from the election, and let your opponent-the one who actually supports mutant rights-take your place. If you don't, I'll be coming for you personally."

Takao was very pale now-but he still had his acid tongue, his agile mind. "Why not just take me in now?" he wondered, still mocking, still capable. "Surely you could do it. Is it really worth all the trouble to try and turn the tables on me?"
Izuku chuckled. "You're right," he admitted. "I could. But quite frankly? You're not even worth my time, Takao. You're small fry-a pebble in the road. And honestly, I have better things to do than deal with you. So…here's my offer. Step down, accept that this city is changing, and I'll let you go in peace. I'll even write up a nice statement of farewell, instead of hauling you off to jail."

Takao…wavered. He seemed old then, older than he'd ever looked before; his hair was gray, his face sweating. He sagged, as if bone-tired.

And then Izuku delivered the finishing blow. "You've got a choice, Takao," he said. "A man like you, he starts worrying about his legacy, what he leaves behind. What's your legacy going to be? The disgraced former mayor who tried to blackmail the Number One Hero and failed? The hateful, bigoted man who kept this city under his iron boot for decades? Or the man who finally listened, who did the right thing in the end, who accepted the mutants and joined Atlas to change the world?"

That was what did it; Mina saw the moment Takao's decision was made. He sagged further, sighing, "Damn you, Atlas. I know when I'm beat."

Izuku said nothing, simply grinning and reaching out a hand. Takao stared at it for a moment, then shook it. As he did so, a faint glimmer of a smirk slipped across his features.

"I have to admit, I didn't see this coming," he admitted. "I still can't quite believe you beat me at my own game, Atlas. I've grown sloppy in my old age."

Izuku smiled, but said nothing. Takao turned and left, slipping past Ejiro and Mezou and disappearing into the crowd. Within moments, he was gone.

Instantly, Izuku sighed, slumping with his arm around Mina. "Finally, that fucker's dealt with," he muttered.

Mina nodded. "I don't trust him as far as I can throw him," she agreed. "We'll have to keep an eye on him."

"Definitely," Izuku said. "But for now…I think we've won."

Those words touched something deep in Mina, some crust falling away; the fear she held at bay broke free, but turned to joy as it struck her heart. Her walls came down, and her knees almost gave out as it all crashed down on her at once.

Fumi, the war, the Depths…it was all over. They'd won. The world was, at last, beginning to change.

It would not be a quick process, or an easy one; she knew that all too well. But now…now they had a chance. That was all they'd ever wanted.

Mina looked at Izuku. "Now what?" she asked.

Izuku turned to their friends. Ejiro, Ochako, Mezou, Momo, Tsu; they were smiling indulgently, approvingly. They knew it was over. Mina and Izuku had earned their peace.

Mina became aware of the cameras flashing in the dark, all around them; they were focused on her and Izuku, stealing pictures of them entwined in quiet, easy love, wrapped around each other until they were utterly tied in knots.

They were no longer secret. Mina was now famous; she was Atlas's girlfriend, the mutant woman who had won his heart, who had changed the world in some small way. But she wasn't afraid; for the first time, she was comfortable with the flashes on her pink skin, glinting off her golden eyes.

Let them look. She was here, and she was loved. That was enough.

Izuku looked back at her.

"Now," he said softly. "We live."

Mina beamed. She reached up to kiss him, and the cameras flashed even brighter.

As their lips met, the day gave them one last gift: the power, so recently knocked out by the Outcasts, flickered once, twice, and was, finally, restored. The lights came back on in the Underground, a rolling wave of brightness that chased out the last of the dark, to the cheers of heroes and mutants alike.

The false sun rose on a city-and a country-forever changed; changed by the actions of a few brave souls. By the hero who was willing to change, by the monster who was willing to rise. But most of all, by the pink-skinned, golden-eyed girl who had only ever wanted a home, and people to love her.

Sometimes, there is only one way the story can end: with a kiss, and a victory, and two armies celebrating together, in a city of light beneath the ground.