Shigaraki's body trembled in Izuku's arms, the bitter wind cutting through the battlefield, swirling ash and dust around them like restless ghosts. The remnants of their war echoed in the distance—distant explosions, faint cries—but here, in this still moment, it felt as though the world had stopped. The chaos that had raged for days now faded to nothing but an eerie silence.

Izuku's breath caught in his throat as he stared down at Shigaraki, the man who had once been the symbol of everything he was meant to oppose. But now, that same man was broken and fragile, the weight of his own choices and pain etched deep into his pale, blood-smeared face.

"Deku…" Shigaraki's voice was a rasp, barely audible over the soft howl of the wind.

Izuku leaned in closer, his heart pounding so loudly he could hear it in his ears. Every instinct screamed at him to pull away, to distance himself from the man who had caused so much destruction, but something in Shigaraki's eyes—something raw, desperate, and painfully human—held him there.

"I'm here," Izuku whispered, his voice wavering as the knot of emotions in his chest tightened painfully. He wasn't sure what to feel—pity, sorrow, anger, guilt. They all tangled together in a mess he couldn't untangle.

Shigaraki's breath hitched, a weak cough rattling through him. His lips moved again, trembling, struggling to form words. "It was… never enough," he gasped. "All of it… the destruction… the hate… I thought it would free me… but all it did… was chain me tighter."

Izuku's throat burned with the weight of those words, each one heavy with years of torment, madness, and regret. "You don't have to carry it alone anymore," Izuku said, his own voice trembling with emotion. "It doesn't have to end like this. We can still find a way."

But Shigaraki only gave a small, bitter laugh, his body shuddering with the effort. "No saving someone like me, Deku…" His voice was barely a whisper now, the flicker of life in his eyes growing dimmer. "But you… you can still make things right."

Izuku's breath caught as Shigaraki's hand twitched. He felt it then—a low hum of energy, weak but growing, building between them like the steady rumble of distant thunder. He recognized the feeling all too well. But this time, it was different. Darker. Colder.

"No… no, Shigaraki, please, you don't have to do this!" Izuku's heart raced in his chest as he realized what was happening. He gripped Shigaraki's wrist tightly, trying to pull away, but the pull of energy between them had already begun. It was too late.

Shigaraki's lips curled into a faint, almost peaceful smile, a strange serenity washing over his battered features. "It's not a choice," he whispered, his voice fading. "It's… fate."

And then it hit.

The force of the quirk transfer slammed into Izuku like a tidal wave crashing against him, knocking the breath from his lungs. It wasn't just One for All—it was something more, something dark and insidious, creeping into the very core of his being. It twisted inside him, burning through his veins like molten fire and freezing his bones with the cold weight of an ancient, malevolent power.

Izuku's eyes widened in shock, his body seizing up as the two forces collided within him. He gasped, his hands trembling violently as the energy surged through him, ripping through his mind, his soul, his very sense of self. The raw power of All for One tangled with the bright, relentless force of One for All, twisting together into something monstrous and chaotic.

His vision blurred, flashes of memories not his own flaring before his eyes. He saw All Might, standing tall and proud, his legacy bright and noble—but just as quickly, the image shifted. He saw All for One, his shadow stretching out over the world, his hand pulling at the strings of fate, bending it to his will. Then Shigaraki—alone, broken, a boy abandoned by the world, twisted into something dark and violent by pain and hatred.

Izuku screamed as the legacies clashed inside him, his body convulsing with the sheer force of the power trying to rip him apart from within. Every muscle in his body burned as though it were being torn asunder, every nerve fraying under the pressure of containing two immense, opposing forces.

"No!" Izuku cried out, his voice hoarse and desperate as he tried to resist the pull, to separate himself from the dark presence worming its way into every corner of his mind. "Stop it! I can't—!"

But Shigaraki's grip tightened on his wrist, a final surge of strength as he forced the transfer to completion. Izuku felt the full weight of the power settle into him, the sheer enormity of it crushing down on him like an iron fist around his heart. His body shook violently, his teeth clenched as he fought to remain conscious under the strain. The shadows of All for One clawed at his mind, whispering promises of control, of dominance, of an end to the chaos and suffering—if only he gave in.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

The energy dissipated, leaving behind a suffocating silence. Izuku collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, his limbs trembling uncontrollably. His heart raced, his body slick with cold sweat as the remnants of the transfer reverberated through him like a distant echo of thunder.

The world was dim, his senses dulled by the overwhelming fatigue and the crushing weight of the powers now residing within him. He could still feel them—the presence of the vestiges, not only of One for All but of All for One. They loomed in the recesses of his mind, the heroes and villains watching, waiting.

He barely registered the limpness of Shigaraki's body against him, the last flicker of life gone from his eyes. There was no more hatred, no more madness, only a strange, peaceful stillness as Shigaraki's face relaxed in death.

Izuku's chest heaved with ragged breaths, his vision blurring with unshed tears. His body ached, his soul weighed down by the monumental burden of what had just happened. He stared at Shigaraki, his heart heavy with sorrow and regret.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely a breath, the words falling like fragile glass in the quiet aftermath. "I'm so sorry…"

But even as he grieved, the dark whisper of All for One's vestiges remained in the back of his mind, a cold reminder of the power he now carried—a power that could either save the world or destroy it.

Two Weeks Later

The hospital room was still, bathed in the soft light of the fading afternoon. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only thing that seemed to tether the room to reality, a distant reminder that life—however fragile—continued. Izuku sat by the window, staring blankly at the fractured skyline beyond the glass. The once bustling city below him was now marked with the scars of war—jagged shadows of crumbled buildings, streets marred by battle, and the quiet hum of reconstruction.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since Shigaraki's final moments. Two weeks since the unthinkable had happened.

And yet, despite the passage of time, it all still weighed heavily on Izuku's chest—the feeling of those powers merging inside him, the clash of legacies both hero and villain intertwined within his soul. It wasn't just a memory; it was an ever-present sensation, like two tides fighting for dominance within his body. The heroes who had carried One for All. The villains who had wielded All for One. They whispered to him constantly, like shadows on the edge of his consciousness, urging him, testing him, pulling him in different directions.

The door creaked open behind him, a sound that barely registered against the storm in his mind. He knew who it was without turning. All Might had been coming by every day, checking on him, offering what little comfort he could. But even his presence, once a beacon of hope, felt dulled by the weight of what had happened.

"How are you feeling, young Midoriya?" All Might asked, his voice carrying a softness that Izuku wasn't used to hearing from him.

Izuku didn't respond immediately. He continued staring out at the city, his reflection barely visible against the glass, fractured like the world around him. Finally, after a long pause, he spoke, his voice low and distant. "I don't know… I feel… different."

All Might hesitated before stepping further into the room, pulling a chair closer to sit beside Izuku. There was something tentative in the way he moved, as if even he wasn't sure how to approach this conversation. The sight of his former mentor, once so strong and unshakeable, now burdened with worry, only added to Izuku's own sense of unease.

"I never wanted this for you," All Might said after a long pause, his voice heavy with regret. "You were supposed to be the symbol of peace. You were supposed to carry hope forward, not… not this."

Izuku finally turned to look at him. His eyes, once bright and full of determination, were now clouded, as if he was staring into an abyss he couldn't climb out of. "I didn't ask for this," he whispered, his voice shaking. "But it happened. And now…" He took a breath, his fingers curling into fists. "Now I have to live with it."

The words hung in the air like a weight neither of them could lift. All Might's face tightened, his brow furrowed with concern. "You don't have to bear this alone," he insisted, his voice rough with emotion. "You've always had people by your side, Izuku. We're still here. I'm still here."

Izuku wanted to believe him. He really did. But the reality was far more complicated than that. He could feel the power—their power—coursing through him, battling for control, twisting his thoughts in ways he couldn't fully understand. Every time he tried to access One for All, All for One seemed to slither in, a dark echo undermining everything he had ever stood for.

"I know," Izuku said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But this… this isn't something you or anyone else can help me with. It's not just about saving people anymore, All Might. It's… it's something darker. Every time I close my eyes, I feel it—this pressure, this… hunger." His voice trembled as he spoke, his hands gripping the windowsill until his knuckles turned white. "All for One… it's like a void inside me, trying to consume everything."

All Might's eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, the silence was deafening. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. He had seen the power of All for One up close, fought against it, and watched as it destroyed lives. But he had never imagined it would be inside Izuku. His protégé. His successor.

The pain in All Might's eyes was palpable, and he reached out, resting a hand on Izuku's shoulder. "You're stronger than this, Izuku," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "You've always been stronger than I ever was. You're still the hero I believe in. We all believe in."

"But what if I'm not?" Izuku's voice cracked, the fear in his words sending a shiver through the room. "What if… what if this power changes me? What if I can't control it?"

All Might's grip tightened, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Then we'll face it together. We'll figure this out—you will figure this out. I've seen you overcome impossible odds before, and I believe in you, Izuku. More than you'll ever know."

Izuku's gaze softened, but the doubt remained. He turned back to the window, staring out at the world that was supposed to be his to protect. It all felt so fragile now, like one wrong move could send everything crashing down again.

"Whatever happens next," Izuku murmured, his voice a little stronger now, "I can't afford to fail. Not with this much power. Not with everything that's at stake."

All Might stood beside him, the warmth of the sun casting long shadows across their forms. "You won't fail," he said softly. "Not as long as you remember who you are."

Izuku nodded slowly, though the conflict still raged inside him. He wasn't just a hero anymore. He was something else. Something far more dangerous.

But he was still Izuku Midoriya.

And he would hold onto that for as long as he could.

Later That Night

The hospital was unnervingly quiet. The kind of silence that wrapped around everything like a suffocating blanket, punctuated only by the occasional hum of machines and the distant shuffle of footsteps in the darkened halls. Izuku lay in his bed, the pale moonlight seeping through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. It should have been peaceful, but peace was a luxury he hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity.

His body ached with exhaustion, his muscles heavy from the countless battles fought, yet his mind refused to rest. It raced, thoughts colliding in a chaotic storm he couldn't escape. Sleep had become elusive, slipping away the moment his eyelids grew heavy, chased off by the constant hum of power that pulsed beneath his skin—two opposing forces locked in a ceaseless battle for control.

The warmth of One for All, once so comforting and familiar, now felt foreign. It buzzed within him, trying to offer its support, its guidance. But it was always countered by the cold, insidious presence of All for One—a darkness that lurked deep within his soul, whispering, waiting, testing his resolve.

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to breathe, but it was no use. The voices were there, always there—persistent and haunting. They were shadows in the corners of his mind, neither fully present nor fully gone. Heroes and villains alike, their spirits intertwined, watching him from a distance. He could feel them like ghosts standing just beyond the edge of his perception, each of them waiting for him to make a choice, to prove himself worthy—or to fall.

He shifted in bed, throwing off the covers in frustration, trying to escape the weight of their presence. His mind kept circling back to one moment—one figure—that haunted him the most.

Shigaraki.

That look in his eyes, just before everything ended. There had been something there, something that made Izuku's heart twist with a mixture of sorrow and regret. It wasn't the madness or hatred that had defined Shigaraki's existence for so long. It was something else. Something far more painful.

"This power… it doesn't belong to him anymore… or me. It's yours… Deku… it always was…"

The words echoed in Izuku's mind, cutting deeper every time he heard them. He could still see the way Shigaraki's face had softened in those final moments, the way his voice had trembled with something that almost felt like remorse. Despite everything—despite all the destruction and chaos—Izuku had tried to save him. He had reached out, hoping to pull Shigaraki back from the edge of oblivion. But in the end, it hadn't been enough. Shigaraki had made his choice, and now Izuku was left carrying the burden of that decision.

A burden that felt too heavy to bear.

Izuku clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as the memory lingered, refusing to fade. The weight of both legacies—one of light and one of darkness—pressed down on him like an iron chain around his heart. He had inherited their powers, their stories, their lives. And now, he was expected to carry them forward, to find some way to balance the impossible.

He didn't know if he could do it. He wasn't sure if anyone could.

But as the doubt twisted in his chest, something else began to stir within him. A flicker of resolve. A determination that had always been at the core of who he was, even when everything seemed hopeless.

"I'll use it," Izuku thought, his jaw tightening as the determination grew stronger. "I'll use both powers to protect everyone. I won't let All for One win. Not now. Not ever."

The words gave him a fleeting sense of clarity, a purpose to cling to amidst the chaos. But even as that resolve formed, he could feel the shadows growing darker. The whispers in the back of his mind grew louder, their presence wrapping around him like a cold fog, creeping into the spaces where his hope had begun to take root.

"You could change everything," a cold, smooth voice echoed in his mind, its tone dripping with temptation. "With this power, you could reshape the world. No more pain. No more suffering. Just order. Control."

Izuku's heart pounded in his chest, the steady rhythm quickening as the darkness pressed in closer. The voice was so familiar, yet so alien—like something ancient and powerful had taken root inside him, its presence twisting his thoughts in ways he couldn't fully comprehend. The pull was strong, insistent. It promised him everything he had ever wanted—the ability to save everyone, to stop the suffering, to create a world where no one had to feel the pain he had felt.

But it came with a price. A price that made his blood run cold.

Izuku gritted his teeth, his breathing shallow as he fought against the temptation. "I'm not you," he whispered under his breath, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "I'll never be like you."

But the whispers didn't stop. They were patient. They knew the battle had only just begun.

As the night deepened, Izuku could feel the weight of the vestiges pressing down on him. The heroes who had come before him—those who had carried One for All—stood as beacons of light, trying to guide him, to keep him on the path of righteousness. But the darkness of All for One was seductive, its promises wrapping around him like chains, pulling him toward the shadows. He could hear the villain—the one who had originated All for One—whispering in the recesses of his mind, his voice sharp and mocking, urging him to embrace the power for what it truly was.

"It's only a matter of time," one of his reflections sneered, its voice low and menacing. "You'll see the truth eventually. This world… it doesn't need saving. It needs someone to control it. Someone like you."

Izuku's pulse thundered in his ears, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the weight of it all threatened to crush him. The lines between right and wrong, between hero and villain, were blurring in ways he had never thought possible. And for the first time, he wasn't sure if he could hold onto the person he used to be.

But despite the darkness, despite the whispers that clawed at his mind, there was still a light. A faint, flickering light that refused to be extinguished. It was the part of him that had always believed in heroes, in justice, in doing what was right no matter the cost.

"I won't let you win," Izuku thought, the words steadying him even as the storm raged inside. "I'll protect this world… even if it destroys me."

The darkness twisted and writhed in response, but Izuku held firm. He wasn't Shigaraki. He wasn't All for One. He was Izuku Midoriya. And as long as he could remember that—no matter how hard it became—he would keep fighting.

The vestiges might have been patient, but so was he. This was his fight now. And he wasn't going to lose.

Not to them.

Not to the darkness.

Not to himself.

Three Days Later

Izuku stood amidst the ruins of the Hero Public Safety Commission headquarters. What had once been a grand symbol of order, justice, and strength was now a mangled pile of rubble, crushed beneath the weight of the war that had torn through the city. The once-proud edifice now lay shattered, the wreckage a stark reminder of how fragile everything truly was.

Around him, heroes moved through the debris like shadows, their faces etched with fatigue and loss. They worked tirelessly, pulling apart the remnants of their old world in a desperate attempt to salvage something—anything—worth rebuilding. Their hands were steady, but their eyes told another story: exhaustion, grief, and the hollow ache of too many lives lost. The war might have ended, but the real battle, the one against the aftermath, had only just begun.

Everywhere Izuku looked, he saw devastation—buildings leveled, streets torn apart, people wandering through the chaos with empty eyes. Families were still searching for their loved ones, and some would never find them. The weight of that reality bore down on him, making his chest feel tight, his breath shallow. It was a weight that Izuku knew he couldn't escape.

He clenched his fists, the power of both One for All and All for One humming like a volatile current beneath his skin. It surged and swirled within him, two forces that had no business coexisting, both seeking dominance. In the days since the final battle, Izuku had spent most of his time in isolation, trying to find balance, trying to understand how to harness these conflicting energies without losing himself in the process.

But it wasn't easy. The vestiges of the past—heroes and villains alike—were always there, watching him from the recesses of his mind, their presence a constant reminder of the immense responsibility now resting on his shoulders. They whispered to him, sometimes guiding him, sometimes taunting him, their voices like echoes from a distant dream that he couldn't quite shake.

His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar sound of footsteps approaching, sharp and determined.

"Deku."

Izuku turned at the sound of the voice, and there was Bakugo, standing a few feet away. His usual scowl was softened, though not by kindness—it was exhaustion, the same exhaustion that weighed on everyone now. They hadn't spoken much since the battle ended. There hadn't been time, and truthfully, Izuku wasn't sure what he would have said. Everything had changed.

Bakugo came to stand in front of him, arms crossed, eyes narrowing in the way that only Bakugo could manage. "What the hell's going on with you?" His voice was gruff, as always, but there was something else there too, something Izuku wasn't used to hearing from Bakugo—concern. "You've been acting weird. Weirder than usual."

For a moment, Izuku didn't know how to respond. The truth of it all was too heavy, too complicated to explain in a few simple words. He hadn't told anyone about the transfer of powers. Not All Might, not the other heroes, not even Bakugo. How could he? How could he make them understand what it felt like to carry both One for All and All for One? To be the vessel for both the greatest hope and the darkest evil?

"I…" Izuku hesitated, glancing down at his hands, his fingers curling as he felt the hum of power beneath his skin. "I'm still figuring things out," he admitted, his voice quieter than he intended. "There's… a lot I have to process."

Bakugo's eyes narrowed further, suspicion and worry battling for dominance on his face. "Look, I get that things are messed up right now. But whatever's going on with you, don't keep it to yourself." He leaned in closer, his tone more insistent. "We're all in this together, Deku. You're not some damn martyr."

Izuku looked up at Bakugo, searching his face for a sign of the fiery temper that had defined their relationship for so long. But what he found instead was something unexpected—understanding. Bakugo, for all his bluster and rage, had been there. He had seen the darkness up close. Maybe he hadn't carried the same burden, but he knew the weight of expectations, the weight of failure.

Izuku nodded slowly, though he wasn't sure how much he could share. Not yet. The truth was too raw, too dangerous. Bakugo would probably explode if he knew the full extent of what Izuku was dealing with. Not because of anger, but because of fear—fear that Izuku was heading down a path he couldn't come back from. But Izuku needed time. Time to figure out how to control this power without letting it consume him.

"I'll be okay," Izuku said, trying to reassure both Bakugo and himself, though he could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. "I just need to take things one step at a time."

Bakugo stared at him for a long, tense moment, his eyes searching for something—some sign that Izuku wasn't lying, that he wasn't on the verge of falling apart. Then, with a frustrated grunt, Bakugo rolled his eyes and crossed his arms tighter. "Fine. But don't think you can do this on your own, you damn nerd." His voice softened just a fraction, a rare show of vulnerability. "We're not letting you turn into some crazy overpowered freak. That's my job."

Izuku couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Leave it to Bakugo to cut through the tension with his usual bluntness. "Thanks, Kacchan."

"Yeah, yeah," Bakugo muttered, waving him off as he turned to leave. "Just don't screw things up."

As Bakugo walked away, Izuku felt a strange mix of gratitude and guilt swelling in his chest. Despite everything they had been through—despite the battles, the rivalry, the anger—Bakugo was still there, still pushing him, still looking out for him in his own rough way. It was a reminder that no matter how much had changed, some things would always stay the same.

He wasn't alone.

And yet, as he stood there surrounded by the rubble of a world they had fought so hard to protect, Izuku knew that his journey was far from over. The power inside him was a double-edged sword, and the balance between hero and villain had never felt more precarious. Each step he took now felt like walking a tightrope, one wrong move away from plunging into the abyss.

He turned his gaze out over the city, the sun dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the broken landscape. The horizon was jagged and scarred, a testament to the destruction they had endured. But in the fading light, there was still a glimmer of hope. A fragile, flickering hope that had survived, even when everything else had crumbled.

"I'll carry this power," Izuku whispered to himself, the words a solemn vow. "I'll carry it for all of them. For everyone who believed in me."

With that promise burning in his heart, Izuku turned and walked forward, the weight of two worlds resting on his shoulders.

NOTES :-

Hey guys,

Been a while, how are ya'll doing

I recently read the official ending and it didn't sit well with me, I felt like Izuku deserved a better end and i hope I can give him that through this.

I am getting back into writing and with some help I hope I can finish some of my other works too.