All Might stood at the entrance, his hands curled into fists at his sides. The weight in his chest was unbearable, but the world didn't care. This was something he had to do.

Beside him, Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi adjusted his coat, his usual calm demeanor hardened with the grim task ahead. They had spoken to countless families before—victims, grieving loved ones, broken parents—but this one felt different.

Tsukauchi raised a fist and knocked twice. For a long moment, nothing.

Then, soft footsteps, hesitant, slow. The lock clicked, the door cracked open just slightly—just enough for a single green eye to peek through. A tired, puffy-eyed, fragile gaze.

"…Yes?"

"Mrs. Midoriya," Tsukauchi's voice was careful, measured. "I'm Detective Tsukauchi from the Public Safety Commission. This is—"

"I know who you are," Inko's voice was barely a whisper. "We've talked before… Tsukauchi." All Might flinched.

She opened the door wider, revealing her small frame wrapped in an oversized sweater. She looked like she hadn't slept and eaten in days. Dark circles clung beneath her swollen eyes, her cheeks pale. A mother drowning in grief.

"Please," she said, voice shaking, "come in."

They stepped air in the Midoriya household was thick with unease.

All Might had never been here before, but something about the space felt almost suffocating. The walls were lined with pictures—old photographs of a smiling young boy with messy green hair, his eyes brimming with hope. A small All Might figurine stood proudly on a shelf, its colors slightly faded from years of wear.

Toshinori Yagi shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hands resting on his lap, trying to steady himself. Beside him, Tsukauchi sat with a much more composed expression, though his shoulders were stiff, and his eyes betrayed the weight of what they were about to do.

Across from them sat Inko Midoriya.

She was smaller than he had imagined. Frail, almost. She clutched the hem of her sweater with shaking hands, her hands white. Her eyes—red-rimmed, hollow, desperate—hadn't left them since they arrived.

"Do you have any information about my son?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Tell me. Tell me everything."

All Might swallowed hard. This was already going south.

Tsukauchi exhaled, setting his hands on the table between them. His voice was calm but firm, practiced in handling situations like this. "Mrs. Midoriya," he began carefully, "before we continue, I need to emphasize that what we discuss here today must remain confidential. We are still in the midst of an ongoing investigation, and any leaks could put lives in danger—including Izuku's."

Inko stiffened at the name. Her lips parted slightly, her breath uneven. She gripped her sweater tighter, nodding. "I understand. Please… just tell me where my baby is."

A silence settled over the room, heavier than the walls could bear.

All Might hesitated. Every word felt like a blade against his throat. How could he say this? How could he tell her that her son—was now suspected of being a villain?

Tsukauchi took over. "We have reason to believe that Izuku is currently with the League of Villains, and that he might be aligned with them."

Inko flinched like she had been physically struck. For a long moment, she didn't speak. Her breath hitched. Her fingers trembled. And then—she laughed. A hollow, broken sound.

"You're mistaken," she said, shaking her head, her voice laced with a strange disbelief. "That's impossible. Izuku—my Izuku—he wouldn't… he wouldn't…"

All Might felt his throat tighten.

Tsukauchi remained steady. "I understand this is difficult to hear, but all evidence points to him being taken by them after the attack on U.A. We are doing everything we can to find him."

Inko shook her head harder. "No. No, you don't understand." Her voice rose in pitch, her breathing unsteady. "Izuku wants to be a hero! He's always wanted to be a hero! He—he worshipped you, All Might!"

All Might clenched his jaw, this was difficult to hear.

"Mrs. Midoriya," Tsukauchi pressed gently, but she didn't hear him.

"You think my son is with villains?" Her voice cracked, her hands trembling violently. "My son, who was bullied his entire life for being quirkless? Who cried himself to sleep because the world told him he couldn't be a hero?" She let out a breathless, bitter laugh. "You expect me to believe that the same Izuku who never hurt anyone is now in league with murderers?"

All Might flinched at her words. She was right. It didn't make sense. And yet, the evidence…

Tsukauchi carefully chose his next words. "We don't know under what circumstances Izuku is with them. That is why we are working to find him as soon as possible."

"Then bring him back," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Please, just bring him back home."

A long silence stretched between them. Tsukauchi glanced at All Might. The unspoken weight of what they were about to say next hung in the air like a guillotine.

All Might inhaled sharply. "Mrs. Midoriya," he began, his voice unsteady, "we need to let you know that your son may have killed a pro-hero."

For a second, everything in the room stopped. The walls felt too tight, the air too thin. Then a sharp gasp, Inko paled. "No…"

Tears welled up in her eyes. She understood what they were implying.

"No, no, no. That's not true." She shook her head violently, her breath coming out in rapid, panicked gasps. "Izuku is not a villain! Nor is he a murderer!"

"Mrs. Midoriya—"

"I SAID HE'S NOT A VILLAIN!" she screamed, slamming her hands against the table, her entire body shaking.

Tsukauchi immediately held up his hands in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. "Please, calm down. We are not saying he is beyond saving—"

"You're lying." Her voice cracked, her entire frame trembling. "You're lying. You're trying to turn my son into some kind of monster, just like everyone else did! I read one of his journals, just before he finished Junior high… Izuku met you once."

"That's not—"

"Ever since he was a child, everyone treated him like garbage!" she spat, her chest heaving. "They called him useless. They told him he would never be a hero, it happened everywhere... students, teachers, family, friends... And you—" she turned to All Might, eyes blazing with a grief-stricken fury—"YOU TOLD HIM THE SAME DAMN THING!"

The words slammed into him harder than any punch he had ever taken. All Might stiffened, his breath hitching.

"I—I…"

The memory flashed before him, he did remember now—Izuku, teary-eyed, looking up at him with hope.

"Even without a quirk… can I still be a hero?"

"It's not bad to dream, but you also have to be realistic."

He had crushed that boy's dream. Inko was sobbing, her hands covering her face. "You—" she choked, "You were his hero. You were everything to him. And you—you told him he couldn't…"

All Might felt sick. He had told Izuku to give up. And maybe, just maybe, Izuku had finally listened.

Tsukauchi sighed, rubbing his temple. "Mrs. Midoriya, please understand—if Izuku is innocent, we will do everything in our power to bring him home safely."

She sniffled, wiping at her tears. "And if he's not?"

"We're not saying anything for certain," Tsukauchi interjected. "But we need to ask you a few things. We need to understand."

Inko swallowed, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. Her hands shook. "…What do you want to know?"

A long silence weathered over them. Then, finally Tsukauchi spoke. "Did Izuku ever talk to you about his quirk?"

A sharp, unnatural silence fell over the room.

Inko's face froze. "…What?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

All Might and Tsukauchi exchanged glances.

"Izuku's quirk," All Might said slowly. "Did he ever tell you about it?"

"Izuku doesn't—" Inko inhaled sharply. Her hands flew to her mouth as she stumbled backward, her back hitting the counter. "He—he never had one—"

Her voice broke apart, her eyes flicking between them, searching—begging—for this to be a misunderstanding.

Tsukauchi's gaze softened. "Mrs. Midoriya, Izuku has a quirk."

Inko shook her head rapidly, tears spilling over her cheeks. "No, no, no—he was tested many times! The doctor said—"

"Isn't it a bit odd that he passed the hero exam?" Tsukauchi pressed gently. "Did Izuku ever explain it to you himself?"

Her fingers clutched at the fabric of her sweater, and her lips parted slightly in horror.

Izuku had never—not once—spoken about it after he disappeared for the first time.

Because she had been so wrapped in her own grief, in the despair of knowing her son would never be like the others—she had never stopped to ask if he had lied to protect her.

She thought of all the nights Izuku came home late. The first night he ever dissapeared, gone for months. The same boy who had spent his entire life dreaming of being a hero.

She sank into the chair behind her, her hands trembling as the truth came crashing down around her.

"Izuku," she whispered, "he… he was hurting… and I didn't see it." Tears spilled onto her lap. "Izuku is a good boy," she choked, her body trembling. "He wouldn't do this—he wouldn't—he wouldn't—"

All Might closed his eyes. Because she wasn't wrong. He had been. But something had changed. Something had broken inside him, and they had failed to see it in time.

Tsukauchi leaned forward, voice gentle but firm. "Mrs. Midoriya."

She looked up, her face streaked with tears, her hands still trembling.

"We will find him," Tsukauchi promised. "And we will bring him home."

Her lip trembled. "Even if it means dragging him back as a criminal?" she whispered, voice barely audible.

Neither of them answered. Inko stared at them. For a moment, there was nothing. No words. No sound. Just the suffocating weight of grief. Then, finally, her lips parted, her voice barely a whisper. "You swear to me."

All Might met her gaze. And despite everything, despite the weight in his chest, the doubt in his mind, the pain in his heart—

He did. "I swear."

Izuku sat in his dimly lit room, the wounds from his earlier outburst still fresh beneath the wrappings. Dried blood crusted against the gauze, but he didn't care.

He didn't feel it. He didn't feel much of anything anymore.

Then came a knock. Not a frantic, impatient one. A deliberate, careful tap. As if whoever was on the other side already knew he was awake. Already knew he was waiting.

Izuku didn't move at first.

Then, after a beat, he stood. His body moved as if on autopilot, as if he was no longer in control.

He opened the door. Tomura stood there, his crimson eyes sharp, unreadable. His usual sneer was absent, replaced with something closer to wariness. Behind him, Kurogiri loomed, his mist swirling lazily, waiting.

"The Master wants to see you," Tomura said, his voice oddly careful.

Izuku tilted his head slightly, observing him. The way he spoke, the way he stood. There was a hesitation. A slight flinch in his movements.

Fear. Not of the meeting. Not of All For One. No.

Fear of him.

Izuku's gaze flicked to the side.

The rest of the League stood further down the hall, lingering near the lounge room, pretending not to watch—but their eyes were locked on him.

Toga's grin had faltered. Her golden eyes traced him carefully, as if seeing him for the first time. Dabi, usually amused by everything, was silent, his cigarette burning between his fingers, forgotten. Even Spinner, who normally paid Izuku little mind and rearely spoke to, stood tense, his grip tightening on the hilt of his blade.

It was as if they had seen a ghost. Or rather—something that had crawled out of its grave, empty and hungry.

Izuku didn't react. He merely stepped forward into Kurogiri's mist portal.

When the fog cleared, Izuku stood in a room he had seen once before.

The air was cold, yet the lighting was warm, dimly flickering across the deep mahogany walls and black marble flooring. A fireplace crackled gently, casting jagged shadows along the walls. The furniture was pristine, almost royal—a throne disguised as a lounge.

And there, seated comfortably in an armchair, was him. All For One.

The man exuded something more than just power. He was presence itself. A force, a construct of inevitability. He did not move, yet he controlled the entire room.

Izuku stepped forward.

"Midoriya Izuku," All For One said, his voice smooth, unfaltering. "Sit."

Izuku obeyed. The chair across from All For One was cold. He sat straight, hands folded over his lap. His face was unreadable, his posture perfect.

All For One studied him. And then, he smiled through the mask.

"You are different now." A statement, not a question. Izuku could feel the way those hollow, unseen eyes traced his form. Analyzing. Weighing. Measuring.

"You did well at USJ," All For One continued. "Exceeding my expectations, as I said before." His voice was calm, thoughtful. "Yet, you lied to me."

A pause. Izuku did not react.

All For One's smile did not falter. "When I asked you what you desired—what you truly wanted—you told me something quite simple."

Izuku tilted his head slightly. "To watch everything fall."

"Yes." All For One nodded. "A very poetic response." A sharp silence stretched between them.

"Tell me, child," All For One murmured, "was that a lie?"

Izuku blinked slowly. His fingers twitched, just slightly, before stilling. All For One was testing him, but not just his loyalty. All For One already knew. He always knew.

This wasn't about whether Izuku had been honest. This was about how much of himself he still had left.

Izuku exhaled slowly. His emerald eyes met the darkness behind All For One's mask.

"Yes it was." His voice was soft, absolute.

All For One was silent. Then—he laughed. A rich, slow chuckle, deep and knowing. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping against the armrest. "Ah, Izuku," he mused. "You truly are fascinating."

All For One regarded him for a long moment before leaning forward. "Tell me," he said, voice smooth, "do you regret it?"

Izuku's fingers curled slightly over his lap. The blood. The screams. Thirteen's throat spilling red onto the concrete. His hands twitched.

Regret? The shadow of his past self whispered in the back of his mind. You do. You know you do.

Izuku lifted his gaze, and smiled. "No."

A slow silence filled the room. Then, All For One chuckled again, standing up smoothly. "Good," he said simply. He walked toward the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back. "There is something you must understand, my boy," he continued. "Loyalty is earned, but power is what maintains it."

All For One turned his head slightly. "I see potential in you, Midoriya Izuku."

"You are not like Tomura," All For One said. "He is… unfinished. Impatient. A child jumping around in a world he barely understands." He exhaled lightly, almost disappointed. "But you? You have the heart of something greater."

"Or at least," All For One mused, "you did." Izuku's fingers twitched. All For One turned to him fully. "I have been watching you."

"You are shifting, my boy," All For One said, his voice like silk, his head tilting ever so slightly. "Something inside you is unraveling."

"You killed without regret," All For One mused. "You stood before the greatest heroes and spat in their faces. But I wonder…"

His mask tilted ever so slightly, and Izuku felt something slither beneath the words. "Do you truly belong here?"

For the first time, Izuku moved.

Izuku's expression did not change. All For One smiled. "I want to see what you will become." The air in the room thickened. "Tell me, Izuku," All For One murmured, stepping closer. "Your heart is cold. And yet… you do not burn like Shigaraki does. You do not seek to destroy for the sake of destruction."

All For One's head tilted slightly. "You seek to break. To tear away the illusions, to drag them into the light—to show them the truth of this world."

The air tightened. All For One's voice curled around him, whispering. "Do you wish to become my successor?" The words felt like an execution.

"You have already proven yourself beyond expectations," All For One murmured. "Your mind, your deception, your ability to see the cracks in the world—you are meant for more than this."

"More than Tomura. More than any of them."

A quiet, deadly promise.

"You can become everything." All For One said as he stood towering above Izuku, one hand moved closer for acceptance.

The room felt smaller. Tighter.

All For One waited.

And waited.

Izuku stared at his own hands. His lips parted—slowly, deliberately. In a voice that was not a boy's, but a monster's, he whispered "What do you need me to do?"

All For One did not move immediately. Izuku had given his answer. He had chosen his path. And yet, there was no reaction. No triumphant proclamation, no grand declaration of loyalty.

Then, slowly, All For One's hand lifted. "Do not move."

Izuku's body locked in place. All For One's fingers stretched outward, the air around them thickening with a force beyond sight, beyond sound. It was something else entirely—something unnatural.

"Before we proceed," All For One mused, voice smooth, almost thoughtful, "you must understand that a choice is never made freely. It always demands something in return."

Izuku's pulse remained steady. "What do you want?"

All For One chuckled softly. "Not what you expect."

Then, suddenly his fingers clamped around Izuku's face, the leather of his gloves pressing into his skin, the sheer weight of his grip forcing him still. It was not painful. It was suffocating. Izuku's breath hitched as something tore through him.

The world around him collapsed.

Weightless. Silent. Infinite. Izuku couldn't breathe. Or maybe he could, it didn't matter.

The sensation was immediate. One moment, he was in the hideout, his body solid, real and then he wasn't. He was falling not through air, not through space—through something deeper. It was primordial and unknowable.

The world around him wasn't just dark—it was absent. No light, no sound, no sensation beyond the feeling of being pulled downward. He couldn't move.

He reached for something, anything, but there was nothing to grasp.

No walls.
No sky.
No ground.

Just an endless void, stretching infinitely in every direction. Then, something changed as the blackness shifted. A ripple, like a drop in an ocean without end.

And suddenly, memories.

Drifting. Flickering. Slipping through his fingers.

A schoolyard, Bakugo's sneer burned into his mind—"You think you can be a hero?" Gone.
His mother's arms wrapped around him, soft, warm—"You're my little hero, Izuku." Gone.
His first notebook, filled with pages upon pages of notes, drawings, observations. Gone.
The moment he met All Might, the rain soaking his clothes, his heart pounding with hope. Gone.

Everything—gone, gone, gone.

Faster now.

Scenes flashing before his eyes, one after another, unraveling like torn pages in a book. Then, the shift.

The moment he entered the League of Villains. Gone.
The training. The battles. The nights spent planning with Tomura, Giran, Dabi. Gone.
The faces of his comrades, the ones who saw him as something more. Gone.
All For One's words, his presence, his promises. Gone.

Izuku gasped, trying to hold onto something, trying to force his mind to remember.

But the blackness tightened. Squeezing, pulling, suffocating.

"Wait." Izuku reached out. There was nothing to grasp. The blackness tightened, like a cold grip wrapping around his skull.

And then… Laughter. It slithered through the void, curling around him, into him, burrowing deep into his mind like a parasite.

All For One's voice, yet he did not recognise it anymore.

"Ah… there it is." It rasped. Izuku's breath came in ragged bursts, his limbs weightless, useless. "You feel it, don't you?" The words coiled around him like smoke, seeping into every crevice of his mind.

"That little hole inside of you. That gaping emptiness where something should be." Izuku clenched his jaw. "Do you know what that is, my dear boy?" The voice slithered closer, right behind his ear. "That is the cost."

Something shifted around him, the void was no longer still.

It was moving, twisting and breathing. And then Izuku saw it, the water. It was everywhere. An endless black ocean, stretching beyond comprehension. It was still. Too still. Not a single ripple, not a single wave. A mirror, reflecting nothing but the void itself.

Yet, Izuku felt it pulling him down. His body jerked as something wrapped around his ankles.

Hands.

Black, withered hands—*hundreds of them, thousands, endless—*rising from the depths, their fingers clawing at his skin, their grip tightening.

They were familiar, too familiar. He had seen them before. He had killed them.

Thirteen's fingers wrapped around his wrist, dragging him down.

A strangled, gasping voice whispered against his ear—

"Why?"

Izuku kicked, the water rippled. More hands. More faces. Aizawa, his body broken, reaching, pulling.

"Why?"

Ochako, her eyes hollow, her hands outstretched.

"Why?"

Bakugo, his corpse laying on the school ground, broken, his fingers twitching, grasping.

"Why?"

Izuku screamed, the water collapsed. The hands tightened as he began to sink, drowning as he was swallowed whole.

And through it all—laughter. All For One was laughing. Izuku's chest burned, his lungs screamed. And in the final, desperate moment…

He closed his eyes.

Pain.

It was always pain.

The first thing he registered was the aching weight pressing into his ribs, a dull, insistent agony that pulsed with every breath. His skin burned, his body stiff and sore. His wrists were raw, metal biting into them that refused to let go. His throat felt scraped, hoarse—like he'd been screaming for days.

His mind was slow, fogged, fractured.

His fingers twitched, dragging against the surface beneath him—a cold, hard cot. Concrete walls loomed around him, damp and suffocating. The air smelled wrong—stale metal, dried blood, the faint scent of something rotting.

Where—

His breath hitched. His eyes snapped open. The room lurched, his head pounded as his vision swam, colors bleeding into one another before settling into harsh, sterile gray.

A room… a prison.

Shackles wrapped tightly around his wrists and ankles, bolted to the wall, restricting movement.

He was trapped. He had been kidnapped.

The memories crashed into him all at once—sharp, disjointed fragments splintering into his skull like shattered glass. USJ. The villain attack.

The panic, the fear. His classmates were scared for their lives as shadowy figures emerged from the mist. A monstrous Nomu, the sickening crunch of bone beneath All Might's fists, the way the ground shook with the force of their battle.

A figure lunging from the shadows, too fast to react. Hands grabbing him, the sharp crack of his skull hitting concrete. The world spinning sideways with suffocating silence.

Izuku's breath quickened. Days. It had been days. Who knows how many?

He had screamed for help until his voice broke. He had fought until his body collapsed. He had begged. No one had come. No one was coming.

The walls felt smaller now, the air pressing against his ribs like an iron cage.

Izuku clenched his fists, the sting of pain was sharp, grounding. Focus. He needed to focus.

Something wasn't right. The chains rattled as he shifted. His arms felt weaker than they should have been, his muscles sluggish and unresponsive. Had they drugged him?

His breathing slowed. He forced himself to focus. What did he still have? His quirk maybe it could help him somehow.

He reached for it. And—Nothing.

His stomach plummeted. Izuku's quirk wasn't there. No spark, no familiar pull of power beneath his skin. Izuku's breath hitched. No. No, that couldn't be right. He was just disoriented. He just had to try again but against whom?

He grit his teeth, focused.

Something answered.

But it wasn't his quirk. It felt wrong, different. Power coiled beneath his skin, humming, crackling, stronger than before—but alien. It wasn't the same. It wasn't his.

"What the hell had they done to me?" He exhaled, steadying his shaking hands. His mind raced, clawing through the memories, desperate for an answer. Had the villains taken it from him? Had they done something to him?

The door shifted, forcing Izuku to go still.

A lock clicked. The handle turned and the door creaked open as the figure stepped inside. Tall. Refined. Cloaked in darkness.

A mask obscured his face, smooth and featureless. Yet his presence alone was suffocating, filling the room with something cold, oppressive, unnatural. Izuku's body tensed on instinct.

A slow exhale. "You're awake." The voice was deep, calm, slithering through the air like oil.

Izuku didn't respond. His shoulders were tight, his muscles burning with the effort to stay still.

The figure stepped forward, his movements slow, deliberate. "You have been through quite an ordeal," he continued, his tone deceptively gentle. "Taken from your school. Beaten. Left alone."

Izuku clenched his jaw, every nerve screaming. "We did not want this for you," the masked man murmured. "We would have preferred an… easier path."

A pause.

"But you fought us."

Izuku's breath hitched as more memories flashed. The screams, the darkness, the pain. Hands gripping his arms, voices murmuring in the dark, offering things he couldn't understand—promises he couldn't grasp.

He had refused. He had fought and they had punished him for it. Izuku swallowed against the bile rising in his throat.

The man crouched in front of him now, his mask mere inches away. "You are strong, Midoriya Izuku," he said. "You survived where others would have broken."

"Tell me…" The man tilted his head. "Do you wish to be saved?"

Izuku flinched. The words hit something deep inside him, something raw and bleeding. Because of course he did, he wanted to go home. To see his mother. To return to U.A. To sit in class with his friends and pretend—pretend that things could ever be normal again.

But… something was missing and felt wrong. The pieces didn't fit. And for the first time, he found the words, "What did you do to me?"

The man did not move, did not react. Until finally a smirk formed with a small clap of the hands, almost seemingly in awe.

"You'll understand in time."

The words slithered into his skull like a parasite, wrapping around his thoughts, embedding themselves in the cracks of his broken mind. The man straightened, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. "We will speak again soon."

He turned toward the door. "You will be released soon, Midoriya."

A final pause.

"But for now…" The masked man tilted his head, his voice a quiet, twisting thing. "Rest."

A/N: Can you guess where the story is going next? What will happen? I can't wait to find out. Let me know what you think so far.