Chapter 32: Where Are We?

Shoto came-to tied to a chair in the corner of a dingy bar.

Faking sleep, he shut his eyes again before they'd opened more than a fraction; he struggled against his restraints. With the cuffs he was wearing, he could easily use his ice to shatter them and break free, although there was something around his legs too, likely rope. He could burn that and run.

These thoughts of escape buzzed in his mind so quickly that he'd barely even processed what had happened to him by the time he knew how to break free. He didn't open his eyes, but that tell-tale smell of a bonfire was all he needed.

Dabi was here.

And then he remembered – he remembered what had happened at the summer camp – the magician, the portal.

Wait – Midoriya. Midoriya was here too, right?!

Without thinking, he opened his eyes in a panic, whipping his head around in a desperate bid to locate his friend. But Midoriya was nowhere to be seen.

"There he is."

Shoto slowly turned his head, and his furious eyes lay upon that of his brother.

"You came to quite suddenly there," Dabi chuckled. "Don't worry, you're perfectly safe."

"How did you find us – at the summer camp, no one knew where that was supposed to be."

Dabi rolled his eyes and pulled from his pocket, a brick phone, the red, number 15 painted across the back. "I bugged your stupid brick phone before we went to Hosu – although I didn't think you'd actually be stupid enough to run off. Luckily enough, it came of use after all."

Shoto didn't reply, mainly because he couldn't think of a response to that. Instead, he gazed around, taking in his surroundings. He'd been right in his first guess of being in a bar. It was small, dark, and stunk of a mixture of odours that he'd rather not describe, let's just say overall, it was a cocktail of death and smoke.

Out of all the random places he'd mysteriously woken up in, this was by far the worst.

It was not improved by the fact that it wasn't just him and Dabi there. The magician who took them stood in the corner, flicking through a pack of cards. Beside him, were three other villains Shoto didn't recognise, one with a lizard Quirk, one wearing a black and white costume of sorts, and the last being tall, with shoulder length hair and large sunglasses. Worst of all, was the leader of the League of Villains, Shigaraki himself, sitting in a bar stool close to Dabi, in front of that warp villain, Kurogiri, who absentmindedly cleaned glasses behind the counter.

"You got a haircut," Dabi acknowledged.

Shoto bared his teeth at him.

Dabi raised his hands, "Just trying to make conversation! Come on, it's not like you to be this aggressive towards me."

"Shut up," Shoto snarled. "I don't want to hear anymore from you – where is Midoriya?"

"Well, technically, to know about that you'd need to hear from –"

"I wasn't talking to you," Shoto snapped at Dabi, shutting him up.

Shigaraki looked up, turning his head, Shoto saw he was still wearing one of those gross, detached hands, covering most of his face.

"He'll be back soon," Shigaraki replied slowly.

"Where, is he?" Shoto demanded, a little louder this time.

"With Sensei."

"…Who?"

At that, Shigaraki stood up. Dabi watched as he strolled over to the middle of the room.

"You've caused us a lot of trouble," he said.

"Good," Shoto replied.

"We're not against you, Shoto," Dabi reasoned.

Shoto shook his head, "I'm not falling for this again. I've made up my mind, and that's final. I'm not joining your stupid little club of villains."

Shigaraki gave Dabi a look, who sighed and stood up, walking until he was right in front of Shoto, where he knelt down so he was a little below eye level. "So, you're on your dear old dad's side now, huh? With the heroes?"

"No – yes – Not with Endeavor! I couldn't care less about him."

"Shoto, I don't know why this is so hard for you!" Dabi laughed, "Endeavor, is a hero. If you're with the heroes, you're with him! So, if you want me to help you, we've got to start seeing eye to eye again, alright?"

Shoto was this close to kicking him – if his feet weren't tied together and to the chair, that was.

"The world isn't as black and white as that," Shoto snapped. "He's an awful person, but… he still helps people. I'm going to fix this, and I'm going to fix it the right way."

"Oh? And how's that? By doing exactly what he wants you to do, and prance around, being a hero?"

"You talk like you're so much better than him!" Shoto lashed out, surprised by the volume of his own voice, surrounded by all these frightening people. "But you're not. You know, I've come to realise that you're not that different from him. Hurting whoever gets in your way – burning people – doing whatever it takes to get to the top. Endeavor was raising me to be like him, and you're saying that by being a hero on my own terms, he's succeeded. Well, it was between that, and letting you raise me to be like you."

He paused to take in the darkness that came over his brother's face.

"You may be on opposite sides," Shoto breathed, "but you're the same."

Unspoken words moved between them –

Like father, like son.

Dabi stood up, "They've gotten in your head."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It is."

"Well, once, you did the same to me. If you really wanted to help me, you would have gotten me out at the start. That's why you joined this stupid League of Villains – because they tried to get to me. Well, I'm not going to be a weapon for you to use against the heroes anymore. So, let me go, or kill me. I'm of no use to you."

Dabi walked back to the bar, perching on a stool again.

Silence overcame them all, filled only by the sound of the magician shuffling his cards.

"Would you stop that?" hissed the lizard man.

The magician held the cards away from him, "A deck of cards must be thoroughly shuffled before they are of proper use! It is an art form that you clearly do not appreciate."

Shoto realised, as the cards were shuffled, that there were numbers inked on the back of some of them, 1 to 20, with two copies of number 19, one crossed out. It was obvious what they stood for. He must have caught the magician's eye under his mask, because with a flick of his hands, he perfectly pulled two cards from the deck, now held between his index and middle finger – the numbers 15 and 18 glared back at him.

The magician turned away and kept shuffling, until the lizard man had enough, and knocked them straight out of his hands, scattering the cards across the floor.

"How rude…" the magician muttered, not bothering to pick them up.

Shigaraki did though. He bent down and carefully selected a particular card, not far away. It was the king of hearts, from what Shoto could see. When he turned it around, he could see the number 18, written on its back.

"It was my sensei who found Dabi," Shigaraki explained, staring down at the card. "He led him here. The rest soon followed. We have a mission – to show the world where the heroes have failed us, to highlight how fragile it really is. Heroes like All Might hold society up like a puppet. We will cut the strings – take down the illusion of control. Because we're all villains – really. They put you in class A because they know the risk you pose. We are a team – dedicated to uncovering the lies that hold heroes together! I know you see it too; all of your little class A does." He showed him the 18 on the back of that card again, red eyes gleaming with malice. "We can help free you, free you all –"

"I'm currently tied to a chair," Shoto spat. "And you speak of freedom."

Shigaraki glared at him.

"And the heroes haven't done the same?" Dabi spoke up, grinning because he knew he was right.

"I'm on my side," Shoto insisted, spitting the words like venom. "Class A's side – and you're right, we do see what's wrong with the heroes. But unlike you, we can see what's wrong with you too. Say all you want. I'm not helping you."

Silence.

Shigaraki continued to stare, as though willing Shoto to disintegrate before him, without the use of his Quirk. Eventually, he broke that hold, tossing the card into the air and walking back over to the bar. He reached for a remote, and turned on a TV screen, suspended above the counter.

"– days since the disappearance of two members of UA's class 1-A, for the rehabilitation of villainous youths. The head of the class, Izuku Midoriya, and his classmate, the son of the number two hero, Shoto Todoroki," said a news anchor, standing outside of the iconic, H-shaped building of UA, just beyond the gates that blocked the mob's entry to the school. "A majority of the first-year hero course remains in hospital after an attack at their summer training camp by so-called League of Villains, who the heroes believe to be concealing the missing students. Moreover, a member of the hero team, the Wild, Wild Pussycats, Ragdoll, remains unaccounted for. More on this story tomorrow, at the press conference held by –"

The TV was turned off unceremoniously, and Shigaraki slowly turned back to Shoto.

He couldn't believe it – why were they making it out like they wanted to go with the League?! Some of class A had to have been injured too – what happened to them?!

"Don't worry," Shigaraki grinned. "You've already helped plenty."

"Worst field trip ever," muttered Mina, sitting with her legs huddled against her chest in the living room.

"Of all time," echoed more than one voice in response.

Uraraka simply sniffed, closing Deku's notebook before she could smudge it with anymore of her tears.

It had been three days since the abrupt end of the summer camp. They were taken back to UA as soon as they had the chance too. Every day since, few had spoken, silent words of comfort drifting in the air.

They'd been sitting like this for a while now, in silence, gathered in the common room area in their dwindling number. Sato had been making cupcakes and cookies – a great comfort in such a difficult time.

Mr Aizawa was out somewhere, about to lead a press conference alongside Vlad King and Principal Nezu. Midnight was keeping an eye on both classes in the meantime.

Hagakure and Jiro were in hospital, asleep like so many of class B. Momo was with them for a while too, with a serious injury to her head. Mr Aizawa had promised he'd find a way to allow them to visit soon enough, but Momo had been discharged from the hospital anyway. She kept in contact with them via their brick phones and should be back within the hour.

And then of course, there was Shoto and Deku…

They'd desperately attempted to contact them through their brick phones too. But much to their disappointment, Deku's phone was soon found amongst his belongings at the camp, and although Shoto's couldn't be located, he wasn't answering.

However, they did find the answer to something Deku had wondered about during their first escape attempt:

No, UA did not put trackers in the brick phones.

Moreover, they couldn't trace Shoto's if he didn't use it! Likely, it had been confiscated from him or destroyed.

Speaking of trackers, class A currently weren't wearing theirs. No one had arrived to put them back on, and the anklets were likely sitting in a drawer somewhere in the main school. UA was a little too busy at the moment to deal with such matters, and class A wasn't exactly complaining.

"We have to know," Tsu suddenly voiced, making everyone perk up. "Tell us, is someone here a traitor?"

No one replied. A few shifted their gaze around, perhaps trying to locate guilt in another's expression.

"We won't tell anyone," Uraraka added quietly. "Maybe you didn't know their plan… it's ok, we'll… understand."

More silence followed.

"I don't believe anyone here would do that," Kirishima nodded to himself, eyes sure as he gazed back at Tsu and Uraraka, who were sitting next to each other, squished on an armchair.

"Me neither," Shinso spoke up, followed by numerous nods around the room.

Uraraka ran her thumb over the notebook in her lap, examining the fading scorch marks on the splodgy, red A that spanned the entirety of the front cover.

"…Bakugo?" she said.

He stood up immediately, "You think it was me, huh?!" he retorted, anger quickly rising.

"W-Well… I –"

"I'm not a freaking villain!"

"None of us are, Bakugo!" Kirishima exclaimed, leaping up to stand between him and Uraraka. "That's the whole idea! But…"

"But what, huh?!"

"S-She has a point, you know! Not that I think you'd ever do such a thing – but out of all of us, you are the only one who's gone against Midoriya – and you don't exactly get along with Shoto either, man! We're not putting the blame on you, we're just pointing out what… what the Detective might ask, because he's bound to come around here eventually, ok?"

Bakugo just stared for a moment, looking… betrayed. "That's just what you've all always thought of me, isn't it…?"

No one replied. Kirishima frowned at him, confused.

"You think I'm the villain."

"No, Bakugo, that's not what we're saying –" Kirishima tried.

"No!" he yelled, pushing Kirishima away harshly. In that moment Uraraka could see a look on his face she'd never seen before – he was… scared. "Why am I always the bad guy?" he sounded so hurt that Uraraka almost broke.

She shuffled away from Tsu and got up, still holding onto Deku's notebook. Hesitantly, once she made eye contact with Bakugo, she flipped through the book to a highly graffitied page and handed it over.

It was his page.

He took one look at it and tossed it to the ground. Undeterred, Uraraka picked it back up again, and started to read.

"17, Katsuki Bakugo – Kacchan – class 1-A," she paused and looked up, expecting him to stop her and storm off, but he didn't. He just stood there, arms crossed, his head hung low, staring at the ground. "…Villain. B-But… that's what's written in nearly all our pages – mine, M-Momo's, Deku's." She flipped to the page and showed it to him. It was essentially blank. He'd written barely anything on himself, just his name and number, the word villain, and then Quirkless, written in big, bold letters. "You're… like us."

As more silence followed, Uraraka decided to continue.

"Weaknesses: the rain and water, the cold, and a competitive nature."

Bakugo's hands balled into fists.

"He struggles to work in a team and cooperate with others.

"A powerful Quirk is not what makes a hero."

The room was deadly quiet. The calm before the storm, as they waited for his inevitable outburst.

"…There's also a drawing of an angry pom-pom dog."

He snatched the book back off Uraraka. She leant over to point it out, "I drew the dog."

Bakugo sighed deeply, dropping his arms to his sides. After a moment, he closed the book and stared at the front cover, matching his fingers up with the prints he'd left behind months ago.

Iida stepped forwards, "You have what Midoriya does not – a powerful Quirk. However, you must appreciate that in turn, he has something that you don't. I don't think I need to explain to you what that is."

Bakugo didn't reply, but that was far better than any backlash one would usually expect from him.

"A powerful Quirk is not what makes a hero," Iida repeated, stepping a little closer and tapping the top of that notebook. "But it is unfortunately an important aspect of it. You said that Midoriya cannot be a hero because he lacks one. In return, he said that you cannot be a hero, because although you possess a heroic power, you do not have a heroic nature."

Tsu nodded from her armchair, "That's why Midoriya put you here, isn't it?"

"Think about it, man," Kirishima interjected, resting a hand on Bakugo's shoulder that he quickly shrugged off. "Midoriya's smart, and he never would have put you here if he didn't believe you had what it takes to be a great hero! He said that himself, remember? All of us have had to learn something here, it's not a bad thing that you're feeling like this. We've been through it too."

"It's like what Mr Aizawa said," Uraraka added, meeting Bakugo's eyes with a look as confident and sure as she could muster, "right at the beginning of term! If we want to graduate, we have to answer the questions we ask ourselves. We have to understand why we're here, and what we're gonna do about it!"

"Yeah!" Kirishima exclaimed, grinned fiercely. "So, come on, man! What are you going to do about it?"

He stared down at that notebook again, flimsy pages, crumpling under his grip. After a moment, he began to frown. He looked up at the whiteboard before them, with their butchered names scribbled all over. Even Shinso had gotten a few cruel nicknames since he joined.

And then, Bakugo began to smile. It was strange, how much he mirrored Deku, as he turned back to them all and said –

"We're gonna break out of UA."

Midoriya didn't know where he was. But what scared him more, was that he didn't know where Shoto was either.

He remembered being pulled through that portal, roughly tossed into an unfamiliar room, and desperately trying to get to his feet, ready for another fight. But he didn't know where his sword had gone, and he held no other weapons. He caught a glimpse of Shoto's two toned hair, and before he could think his situation through any further, he blacked out.

Now, he was awake again. He wasn't where he'd found himself when the villains first took him, that was for sure. He didn't remember much of the place, but the floor had been wooden. Here, the floor was either stone or metal. He wasn't touching it, so he couldn't tell.

He lay on a bed. He could hear the gentle, rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor, gently beginning to increase in frequency as he felt his panic rise. He clocked the IV-drip, noted the bandages across his arms and legs and sticking out from under his shirt, and after a moment more, finally acknowledged his aching pains.

He could barely remember his fight with Muscular – not a good sign, but the villain wasn't trying to kill him. Maybe he broke a couple of bones, but Midoriya wasn't quite sure. He'd been so hyper-focused on saving Kota, and then rescuing his classmates, that his brain seemed to by-pass any natural measurements of self-preservation.

Regardless, he felt better now. He pushed any feelings of being glad he never got around to realising how much pain he'd really been in away, as he sat up and gazed around him. This was not the time for feeling remotely thankful.

"Good, good, good – perfect timing."

Midoriya's breath hitched in surprise when a stranger casually strolled into the room. An older looking man with short stature, a hefty, white moustache, and steam-punk styled goggles. Midoriya narrowed his eyes, come to think of it, this stranger had a strange air of familiarity about him, but he couldn't quite place it.

"The predictability of Quirkless subjects!" the man exclaimed. "No surprise complications, no mysterious alterations to metabolism. Oh, the beauty of human normality!"

There were a whole host of questions Midoriya could have asked. For some reason, what slipped out was: "Who are you?" His voice was croaky from disuse.

"For now, your doctor!" the old man answered, approaching him and beginning to disconnect wires and tubes.

Midoriya made no objection and let him do his work. It was clear he'd helped heal him, so he couldn't have been in much danger in the current moment.

"…Where am I?" Midoriya asked after a few minutes more, spent watching the doctor scurry around the room.

"Perfectly safe," he replied. It… wasn't much of an answer. Again, he made no complaint.

As the man started to replace some of the bandages on Midoriya's arms, he risked a third question, "Why am I here?"

"You are here –" he paused as he cut a length of bandage off with a pair of scissors – "to speak to a good friend of mine. He has taken good care of me, as I have done for him! He will do the same for you."

The answers were so vague and cryptic that Midoriya concluded that it was best not asking any more. Instead, he sat there and waited, letting the doctor go about whatever routine he had established during however long Midoriya had been here, unconscious and healing.

"Where is Shoto?" Midoriya suddenly found himself asking, despite the conclusion he had come to.

"With his brother."

Midoriya blinked. How did he know…? "…Natsuo?"

"Dabi."

That couldn't be good. Well, Shoto being with Dabi was bad enough, but Midoriya was more referring to the fact that this strange doctor knew about Dabi's relationship with Endeavor, which was supposed to be a secret.

His panicked mind whirred to many distant places, from Shoto to the League to Jiro and back again. He didn't know how much time had elapsed before the doctor was standing by his bed side again, waiting.

Midoriya turned to stare at him, awaiting instruction.

"Up you get then!" he insisted exasperatingly, as though he'd already asked this once and was now repeating it.

Midoriya did as he was told, kicking his legs off the side of the bed and getting up. He felt a little unsteady, but his legs luckily didn't give out underneath him.

"Good, good! Come with me," and he walked off, to the far side of the rather dark room, and opening a door for Midoriya.

He followed, now vaguely aware that the floor was indeed concrete. But other than his shoes, he was not wearing the same clothes he'd disappeared in, likely because they'd been ruined. As they wandered underneath lights down a cold corridor, Midoriya noted that he was wearing a black T-shirt, and matching black trousers. The white of the bandages stood out almost as much as the red of his shoes.

In the darkness, he was acutely aware of the sounds that surrounded him as they walked through this maze of a building. They must have been in some kind of tower, like maybe a skyscraper. He could tell from all the stairs, and the way the corridors twisted and turned in a circular fashion. He could hear the distant whirring of machines, the humming of computers, the bubble of some kind of liquid.

His eyes focused on the back of the doctor's head. He must have been one of the villains, probably with the League. Strange, if they had a doctor on their side, surely Shigaraki's wounds would have been healed faster. Like Midoriya, he'd been shot at the USJ, and from what Midoriya could gather from his few interactions he'd had with him since, they weren't fixed nearly as quickly.

At the point where Midoriya was worried he couldn't go on for much longer. The doctor came to a door. There was no lock; he pushed it open without hesitation, and Midoriya cautiously followed.

He couldn't tell, but Midoriya was somewhat convinced they were on the top floor of the building, or at least near to. This room was messy. He picked his path carefully, following the doctor the best he could before he disappeared around the corner and out of sight. There were wires and machines littered everywhere. He almost tripped more than once, before reaching the centre of the room.

He found himself facing someone. The lighting was minutely better here, so it was easier to see his face. But… Midoriya couldn't say the same for him. He wore a black mask, in which there didn't appear to be any sort of hole for his eyes. A few pipes came out of it, and like Midoriya had been back in his make-shift hospital room, this man was connected to numerous machines that the doctor instantly began to tamper with.

The man sat in a chair, and wore a clean, neat, black suit.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Izuku Midoriya," the man said calmly, his voice strangely soothing, yet muffled and slightly distorted by his mask.

Midoriya said nothing, he just stood before him, unsure of what to do.

"Please, take a seat," he said, gesturing slightly to Midoriya's left.

There was a chair there he hadn't quite noticed before. Not wanting to go against the man's words, as he was most clearly the one in control here, Midoriya grabbed the chair and shuffled it forwards slightly, so he was directly opposite the man, three or four metres apart.

"You must have a lot of questions," the man realised. "Ask away."

Midoriya was very aware this was likely a… very bad man, for the lack of a better description. However, he didn't really want to get on his bad side. He chose his words carefully. "How did this happen? T-To you, I mean."

"I was injured," the probably-villain explained. "I am aware that you have met All Might."

He… fought All Might…

Midoriya hesitated. "…Who are you?"

"Well, I have many names. Recently, the two most relevant have been sensei, or All for One."

"Shigaraki's sensei…"

"Yes. I assume he has spoken of me."

"…Um, yeah."

A moment of silence more, whilst… All for One, waited for further questions.

"What do you want… from me?"

"I wanted to speak with you," he answered simply.

"…Why?"

"Why would one not want to speak with the likes of you, young Midoriya?"

Midoriya twiddled his thumbs, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

"I can see you are scared," All for One acknowledged. "You do not need to be. But fear comes with the unknown. To conquer fear, you must conquer the unknown. You, above all, know the true power of knowledge. Such a power can face any force, of any magnitude. However, there always comes that moment when that is simply not enough. Being… normal, in a world where the abnormal, has become average, must make you feel… insignificant. I feel your pain, my child. I too, have no power that is truly my own."

Midoriya frowned. A… Quirkless man did such damage to the number one hero?

"I see you're confused."

"I-I err… a little…"

"Yes, by a certain coincidence, you are already some what familiar with my Quirk –

"For I have the ability to take other powers."

And suddenly, it all made sense. How the Nomu had multiple Quirks, how a man with 'no power that is truly his own' could take on the likes of All Might, how someone like Shigaraki could organise such an extensive operation. Because he didn't – it was his sensei who pulled the strings. He spoke about freeing society when he wasn't free himself.

"Would you like to know what All Might's power is?"

Midoriya blinked out of his thoughts, so shocked by the previous revelation that his head was still reeling.

"All Might possesses the ability to pass on his power. That is it."

"I… what?"

"It was my brother's Quirk, mind you. Rather useless at the time. Until I graciously gave him a stockpiling ability, thinking he was Quirkless. It merged with his own power and he passed it on, down generations of heroes, cultivating more power as it went, until it reached young Toshinori Yagi – All Might. He was Quirkless too, once."

Midoriya stood up, almost stumbling backwards over his chair, heart pounding.

"The Quirk is called One for All – poetic, is it not? But almost backwards. You see, in his case, all the power is kept within one individual, whilst my power, All for One, is one which can be utilised to achieve balance across all kinds of people."

Midoriya wanted to get away, to run as far as he could, but some morbid fascination kept him rooted in place.

"Some people don't deserve power, do they, Midoriya?" said All for One.

Endeavor, Dabi, All Might, Kacchan –

"But they do have it," he added. "And some people, they do deserve it. Imagine the difference they could make if they had that power instead."

Midoriya didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to think.

"That is what I can offer to you," All for One proclaimed. He stood up, now disconnected from the wires that had bound him to his seat. "All I ask in return, is for you to help me find One for All – the power stolen from me so long ago. All Might has passed it on now, you see. He possesses but a dwindling flame of what once was."

His heart was beating so fast he thought it might break free of the cage that was his ribs, "W-What kind of power?" he heard himself say.

"Anything you want! A Quirk of your very own."

He tried to take a step back, but his feet wouldn't move, "B-But… you're a villain…"

"If there is no such thing as a hero, this day and age, young Midoriya – is there such thing as a villain? The world looks upon you and labels you as such. Do you think it will ever treat you differently? Don't you want me to help you change their minds?"

"The Quirkless soul you are – they don't care! You're here for one reason, and one reason only, because you can see through the cracks – the cracks All Might's illusion holds!"

"– Someone has to do something about it – if it's not me, it doesn't look like it's going to be anyone! And if that means burning the bloody whole thing to the freaking ground, then so be it!"

"You've become a monster."

"– you're just the Quirkless kid pretending that he can be a hero!"

"You're in denial; you're delusional – have been ever since that bloody day you realised your Quirk was never coming! And you still think you're a hero! You're not! And it's freaking annoying! Do something useful with your life! Where you can for once not be the stinking Deku you've always been!"

"I think the name Deku sounds like dekiru – can! So it's like… you can do it! And I thought that was fitting."

"Heroes are people with the Quirks to help where other people can't! Deku doesn't freaking have that!

"So, is it really your lack of a Quirk, or is it the people, holding you back?"

"I can be a villain – but I can't be a hero. I can ruin everything – but I'm not allowed to help."

And Midoriya did – he wanted to change their minds.

He did so badly. He wanted to make a difference. He wanted to leave his hurt and pain behind. Once, he would have said he'd do anything for a Quirk.

He looked up at the man before him, knowing, not too deep down, that this was a man preying on the childish spark of hope that remained.

"I am a patient man," All for One said after too long of a silence. "Have some time to think it over." He turned to his doctor, "Could you escort our guest back to his room? And perhaps bring him something to eat? If it is not too much to ask."

"Of course, of course!" the old man replied, reappearing from whatever shadow he had been lurking in, "Come with me –" and he started to wander off again.

Midoriya wavered before following, turning back to All for One.

"Come!" the doctor called out.

Midoriya tore his gaze away and followed him into the darkness.

He had a lot to think about.