Izuku, now thirteen years old, hovered midair as a sharp, stabbing sensation flared behind his skull. With a skillful flick of his finger, he twisted midair, narrowly avoiding Gran Torino's high-speed kick.
UA Principal Nezu observed him closely, taking notes on his clipboard with keen interest. The principal had his paw on his chin, looking intently as the successor danced in the air dodging attacks.
"Good!" Gran Torino barked in approval, jumping away before slamming his heel into the floor, kicking up dust and debris from the ground. He quickly dashed forward towards the teen and threw another roundhouse kick which was countered with an elbow block before Izuku followed up with a precise punch to Gran Torino's face, sending him flying back to the ground.
Nezu clapped as he observed their fight, his eyes sparkling with glee at what was happening. His beady eyes showed admiration to the boy's fighting prowess as he moved gracefully in the air like a leaf dancing with the wind, seemingly weightless yet always remaining grounded no matter how high he went.
"Are you okay, Gran Torino?" Izuku used a blast of air to catch the old hero.
"And just as heroic as his father," Nezu muttered under his breath with delight before turning to the two. "I have seen enough for today! Please take a break, you two!"
"Understood," Gran Torino grumbled as he landed safely on the ground next to Nezu before walking away from the fight, rubbing his sore shoulder with a slight grimace.
Izuku sighed in relief at seeing Gran Torino was alright before using another burst of air to land safely on the ground, kicking up dirt. He frowned, thinking he'd need to work on his landing. It was fine for most situations, but if he needed to sneak up on someone, it'd be an issue.
He doubted he'd ever need to sneak around—his Quirk was strong enough to face his father head-on. Still, the option was there, and he wouldn't be satisfied unless he was prepared.
He turned to look at Nezu, wondering what the Principal had observed so far before asking, "How was I?"
Nezu hummed thoughtfully as he reviewed the notes written down on his clipboard, "Well..." he trailed off as he read through some pages before finally looking back up at the teenager with a wide grin. "You were excellent!"
The compliment caused a bright smile to appear on his face, "Thank you, sir!"
"You've grown into quite the fighter!" He remarked cheerfully as he scribbled some more on his notepad.
Gran Torino raised a brow curiously as he looked over Nezu's shoulder to read the notes on his notebook, "Oh? You noticed that as well?" He asked in surprise.
Nezu nodded with pride as he tapped his paw against the paper. "Indeed. It seems Yagi has improved greatly over these past few months."
"That's for sure," Gran Torino agreed with a grunt as he crossed his arms across his chest while watching their pupil stretch out his limbs. "He's been doing great with One for All lately. And the kid's got a knack for combining his Quirks, too."
Nezu nodded before letting out a sigh and turning to look at Gran Torino with an amused smirk, "Even with all this progress, I can't help but wonder—how much further can we push him?"
"I guess so." The older hero shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, not really caring too much about it. "I mean, we already know he can handle the power of One for All just fine and how strong it is. But what if something happens while he uses it, especially with how many Quirks it contains?" He pointed out with concern evident in his voice.
They'd seen firsthand what happened when multiple Quirks were forcibly stacked onto a single person. All for One's victims were proof enough of that. Izuku never showed any signs of them, but...
Gran Torino eyed the green teen suspiciously. The kid just like his father, through and through.
Nezu nodded, tapping his notes. "Recovery Girl found nothing physically alarming, and Hound Dog didn't detect any mental instability..." He lowered his voice. "But he looked more tired than he let on."
"You sure it's not those extra Quirks weighing him down?"
"For now, there is simply no evidence linking those two things. Though my hunch is telling it's something else. In any case, I'm sure it's going to be fine for now. We will be monitoring him. The best thing I suggest is to give him a break or something."
"Where's Toshi, anyway?"
"Dad said that he heard someone shrieking for help so he went there. That was 10 minutes ago, though..."
And just when Izuku wondered about that, the underground facility shook. Izuku, coating himself with 100% One for All, rushed outside, worrying something happened to his father. It sounded ridiculous, but he was his dad—of course, he was worried about him!
The other two tried to stop him, but by the time they blinked, he was gone—no shockwave, just a streak of lightning cutting through the air.
Above ground, he saw roads cracked and some cars flipped over. Panic stirred in his chest as his eyes darted around, searching desperately for his father. Another quake struck—the ground trembled beneath him as dust and debris burst into the air, clouding his vision.
And then—
A massive villain lay unconscious, the body rapidly shrinking back to normal size. And atop the villain, completely unharmed, stood his father.
That was...predictable, of course. But still, relief flooded his chest. "Dad!" Izuku rushed toward him.
"Hahaha!" All Might did his characteristic bombastic laugh. "It's okay, young one! Everything's okay!" He assured his son with a big thumbs up while flexing his finger muscles.
"Here we are in Tatooin Station as All Might managed to incapacitate a large villain," a voice behind Izuku announced. The news crew immediately started approaching them, with reporters and camera operators hurrying toward them. "And it seemed that he's joined by his son! What a heartwarming sight to see."
The reporter turned toward the boy beside All Might. "Hey there, Mr. Izuku!" she said cheerfully, offering him her microphone. "What do you think of your dad's victory here today?"
Izuku gave her a charming smile, something perfected in a mirror, and chuckled, "I just got here myself. But I'm glad Dad's okay."
"Was there any doubt?" the camera man, a young adult, asked incredulously before snickering. "You guys know All Might! He never loses!"
"True. But you never know!" Izuku joked along with him and shrugged dramatically, making them laugh. He turned to the camera, smiling widely as he struck a heroic pose next to his father who followed suit soon after.
"Thanks for watching everyone!" they shouted simultaneously as they waved goodbye at their audience.
The camera panned over the crowd as cheers erupted in the background, the station basking in the Symbol of Peace's latest triumph. Meanwhile, miles away in Mustafu, a man sat in silence, watching the screen with a scowl.
Ever since eight years ago, he couldn't help but feel like All Might's shadow grew bigger. He'd always be in the limelight no matter where he went, even if it was just for a second. And when it wasn't All Might being in the spotlight, it would always be his son.
The boy was practically born in the spotlight—always looking so happy and content. Unlike himself. The media adored the boy—he didn't even have to do anything, and he was already being praised. 'Even when he did nothing!' Enji smashed his fist to the wooden table, cracking it and sending splinters across the living room.
His daughter could only watch in fear at how angry her father had become.
Enji, for a moment, caught a glimpse of his son, also glaring at the screen—now dark, yet still reflecting the phantom of a grin. Despite his little rebellious phase, Enji had no doubt—when the time came, his son would do exactly what he was meant to.
"Shoto! To the dojo!"
His youngest flinched at the sound of his voice before nodding slowly and heading out of the room. The walls were made with fire-redundant materials. In the corner of the room, was a small TV, playing recordings of All Might's son. Every interview, every world record shattered, every exhibition—all playing on loop, an endless reminder of what Shoto had to surpass.
Enji wanted to carve the hate into him, to ensure his masterpiece never forgot why his training would only grow harsher.
While the Todorokis trained relentlessly under Enji's watchful gaze, elsewhere across Japan, young people tuned in to the Yagis' latest appearance—each with their own reactions.
One was letting out explosions, declaring that he would surpass both All Might and the 'leaf-haired twerp.' The shouting between mother and son echoed within the walls.
Another was a young girl, being teased by her mother, noting the flush on her cheeks. While the father protective of his daughter, reminding his wife that their baby was still young. The girl hid herself behind her hands, embarrassed by her parents' affection.
There was also a girl watching as her cross-haired eyes glinted at the opportunity of pitching her babies at the up-and-coming hero soon.
In a grand study filled with books and elegant decor, a dark-haired girl sipped her tea as the broadcast played. Her parents had spoken highly of All Might, but now all eyes were on his son. She adjusted her posture, determination flickering in her gaze. Another name to remember, another hero to match.
In a cozy living room, a pink-skinned girl leaned forward on the couch, eyes glued to the screen. "Man, All Might's kid is gonna be crazy strong, huh?" She grinned, elbowing her friend. "I bet he's gonna be in U.A. someday—guess we better start leveling up now!"
Yet in a tiny room in Jakku, away from the young people who watched in admiration or determination, was a man with silver hair and eyes. It had been years since he was surprised that his latest toy passed down his little brother's Quirk. Yet careful investigations behind the scene led him to discovering that wasn't the case at all.
The boy naturally inherited the Quirk.
A tiny miscalculation.
It was around now when he wanted to strike, to grab what was his back. But the existence of the boy complicated things.
None would please him more, but taking both users on right now would be nothing short of suicide, even for him. The reports were unsettling. If they were to be believed, the boy wasn't just matching his father's power. He was surpassing it.
How irritating.
The man clicked his tongue. It seemed he had no other choice but to bide his time. Eventually, regardless of his current growing strength, the world's 'Symbol of Peace' would grow weaker. Frailer.
And then prying it would be no more difficult than taking a candy from a baby. It would boring but even he get weary of the constant bugs getting in his way.
And when the dust settled, there would be no one left to stop him—not the father, not the son. Not anyone.