"No," Izuku said, his voice low, tendrils of black energy writhing up his arms like sentient armor. They wrapped Eri gently, a living cocoon secured to his back like a protective shell.
"I'm not."
'60%!'
"Wait."
Chisaki raised both hands, his tone suddenly even, like a negotiator stepping into dangerous territory.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot. Who are you—and what do you want with my daughter?"
A beat of silence passed, thick with suspicion. The two locked eyes, both searching for cracks in each other's resolve.
"Your daughter?" Izuku asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Are you her father?"
"That I am."
"Strange. For a father, you seem awfully calm talking to your child's kidnapper."
Chisaki's gaze didn't waver, though his fingers twitched slightly.
"...Because I don't want her getting hurt. She's all I have. She's priceless."
Izuku nodded.
"I get it. But then, maybe tell your mole to stop phasing through the walls before I dig him out and rip out his fucking spine."
The entire building rumbled. Subtle—but startled.
"...What? How—" Chisaki blinked rapidly, for once caught off guard.
"Irinaka. Stop."
Joi Irinaka, codename Mimic. A Quirk user who could possess and manipulate objects, reshaping the very architecture around them. But there was a flaw: he didn't merge with the material—he simply hid inside. And now, someone had seen through it.
Panic tinged the tremble in his voice.
"B-Boss, he's bluffing. I can trap his legs, then bury hi—"
"I said stop."
"Y-Yes..."
Chisaki turned back, frustration leaking into his otherwise composed mask.
"So. That angle failed. What do you want?"
"I'm taking the girl."
"Why?"
"Classified."
"Where?"
"Also classified."
Chisaki's brow twitched. The calm father act was crumbling.
"...Who are you? Who do you work for?"
"Nameless. Government."
That stung. Chisaki's thoughts raced. Had they finally traced the source of the Anti-Quirk bullets? Was this a warning or an execution?
"Are you a hero?"
"I'm a soldier."
"..."
"Still buying time?" Izuku asked.
"I don't know what you mean."
"You've got a guy with a dizziness Quirk, right? Waiting for it to kick in?"
"...How did y—"
"I killed him."
?!?
"Kidding. Choked him out. He's still breathing... probably."
Izuku chuckled, the sound cold and dry. His smile faded as his eyes sharpened.
"Now. Move—or I'll kill you."
A silence fell over the space like a death shroud.
Chisaki didn't speak. But he felt it. A primal chill in his spine. If he misstepped here, he wouldn't just lose the girl—he'd lose everything.
He swallowed the fear down.
"You think strength makes you untouchable? Drop the child. We part ways, pretend nothing happened, deal?"
He extended a hand. Bare for a handshake.
Izuku inhaled deeply. Then exhaled.
"You really think I'm that stupid?"
His voice dropped like lead.
"That'll cost you dearly."
He pointed at Chisaki's outstretched hands.
Both men knew what this was: a stalemate.
One touch from Chisaki—Izuku dies.
One hit from Izuku—Chisaki dies.
But Izuku held the edge. He knew Chisaki's Quirk. Knew the mechanics. The rules. The limits. And Chisaki? He was groping in the dark.
He didn't even know his real identity.
He didn't need to drag this out into some flashy anime brawl. One clean shot was all it would take. Chisaki was still human. Still mortal. Still made of meat, blood and bones.
He needed tissue to reconstruct. If Izuku obliterated his heart? No spare, no chance.
No heart. No healing.
No brain? No Quirk.
Izuku approached him menacingly.
Chisaki's eyes narrowed. Still trying to play angles.
"Ten times what you were paid!" he blurted.
There was desperation in his voice now.
Izuku blinked. Then tilted his head thoughtfully.
"...Hmm."
Chisaki's face lit up.
"Y-You see? You're a businessman. Name your price."
"How will you pay me?"
"A card, of course."
Izuku laughed. Loud and sharp.
"Oh, you're good. Do I look like someone dumb enough to let you into my finances?"
"No, no! I'll give you a card, ready and everything!"
"To track me whenever I withdraw? You think I was born yesterday?"
Izuku rolled his eyes.
Chisaki's composure cracked.
His opponent wasn't just strong—he was smart. Paranoid. Dangerous.
"Fine. Cash. I'll pay in cash."
"Too much heat. That amount of cash gets flagged instantly."
"...Just out of curiosity. How much were you paid?"
"Ten million dollars."
He smiled, cold and amused.
"You offered ten times that. So, one hundred."
"Guhk—t-that's..."
"Can't afford it?"
Chisaki didn't answer.
He touched the ground. A surge of jagged earth shot out—spikes aimed at Izuku's feet, trying to bind him.
Bad move.
Izuku spun, his body a green-and-black blur. The tendrils flared and shattered the spikes as he exploded forward like a missile.
"Y-YOU—!"
Chisaki screamed, forming thick layers of hardened stone and metal over his torso.
But it didn't matter.
Izuku tore through it like wet tissue, his clawed shadows slashing deep into his chest, ripping muscle from bone.
"GHHRRAAAGH!!"
Chisaki screamed, hand flying to his chest as he healed the damage instantly. But then—
A gunshot.
Izuku's Danger Sense screamed.
He caught the bullet midair, eyes narrowing.
A Quirk-erasing bullet.
His gaze snapped to the shooter, who dove behind a wall, trembling.
No time to process. Chisaki lunged, his hands reaching for the writhing shadows—
Too slow.
Izuku moved faster than the eye could track. With a flick of his wrist, the tendrils morphed into a blade.
SHHK.
One hand dropped to the ground.
"AAAAAAGHHHH!!!"
Chisaki screamed, stumbling back, grabbing the stump.
And then the second hand fell.
"NO—NOOOO!!"
He collapsed to his knees, bloody stumps trembling as he realized—he couldn't heal. He couldn't touch. He was powerless.
Izuku kicked him once, hard. The man flew backward and slammed into the wall, lodged deep in it and losing consciousness.
Izuku picked up the severed hands and crushed them into pulp with an audible squelch, taking them with him to drop into the sea for fish to eat.
"I'm done here."
He looked up. Time was running out.
His body coiled in tendrils as he crouched low. He kicked off the ground with a sonic boom, blasting through the floors, higher and higher until he punched through the rooftop into open air.
At 400 meters, he steadied himself midair.
With a mix of Float and self-taught Geppo, he locked onto a direction—and flew.
"Hang in there, Sensei..."
---
Musutafu General Hospital – Emergency Ward
The walls trembled under the weight of fading hope.
Recovery Girl stood hunched over the thin frame of Toshinori Yagi, her gloved hands trembling as she pressed the defibrillator paddles again.
"Charging—clear!"
The jolt ran through All Might's body. It twitched once. Then lay still again.
His heartbeat, soft and irregular, pulsed weakly on the monitor beside her. The line jerked, staggered, then dipped into a lull that lasted too long.
"Don't you dare quit on me now, you idiot," she muttered under her breath, her voice thick with urgency. Sweat dripped from her forehead despite the room's chilled air. "You promised me we were done with this kind of drama…"
Her words were half a scold, half a plea.
All Might's lips parted slightly, a dry rasp slipping free, unintelligible. His sunken eyes fluttered beneath bruised lids, as if dreaming. Of what, no one could say.
Visions of past figures looking at him, seven of them led by his old sensei, Nana Shimura.
Assistants moved frantically, passing scalpels, saline, syringes; doing everything that decades of emergency training demanded—but none of it felt like enough. None of it was enough.
"BP's dropping again, patient entering cardiac arrest!" a young nurse shouted.
"I'm aware!" Recovery Girl snapped, biting back panic. "Give him two more units and prep a stabilization injection. I'm going to overuse my Quirk if I must—he's not dying here, not while I'm still breathing!"
Outside the ward's sealed glass, the dean of Musutafu General watched in frozen horror. He was tall, aged but sharp, his silver hair slicked back with oil and order. His expression, however, cracked.
A small figure ran up to him.
"Where is he?" he asked, turning.
A small voice beside him answered.
"On his way."
It was Nezu.
The Principal had just arrived, panting slightly, his suit rumpled from running through half the hospital. His paws curled tight over the small communicator at his hip. He'd received the message minutes ago: Izuku was coming.
"Yagi…" Nezu whispered, eyes locked on the figure inside the glass room. "Hold on just a bit longer, old friend."
Then his ears twitched. Something was approaching.
He turned to the dean. "He's near."
---
Entrance Hall – Musutafu General Hospital
The automatic doors hissed open, cold wind sweeping through the corridor like a breath drawn before a scream.
Izuku Midoriya stepped inside, his clothes torn, blood drying along his arms and the tips of the tendrils that slowly peeled off his back like shadows shedding from skin. In his arms was a small girl, unconscious, bundled tightly in strips of his green uniform to keep her warm. Her little horn jutted out above tangled white hair.
"Midoriya!" someone cried.
Tenya Iida sprinted toward him, flanked by Ochako, Kirishima, and Momo. They looked as though they'd been standing guard near the entrance for hours, tense and pacing.
"Are you alright?!" Ochako asked, reaching instinctively toward the child. "Who is that?"
Izuku shook his head, sharp and tired.
"She's safe. For now. Her name's Eri," he said, voice low, urgent. "She's our last hope, where's Nezu?"
Iida blinked, flustered by the sharpness in Izuku's tone and his lack of sleep.
"He ran past us not a minute ago," he said. "Went up the stairs with the hospital director."
Izuku didn't wait. With a surge of wind and a flicker of movement, he vanished up the stairwell in a blink—no time for farewells.
Momo stood in silence as the air stilled again. Her eyes were on Eri's bandages.
"She looked… broken."
Ochako nodded slowly. "So did he."
"Let's go!" Iida shouted, running up the stairs.
---
Fourth Floor – Intensive Care Unit
The dean and Inko Midoriya watched through the screen, Inko's tears fell in uncontrollably while the Dean's expression was a solemn grimace.
Nezu was behind them after checking on his students with Aizawa.
"Condition?" Aizawa quickly asked.
"Bad, he's dying soon," The dean didn't hold back, directly telling the ugly truth.
"..."
Aizawa scrunched his eyebrows in frustration, feeling helpless as he looked at the crying woman beside him.
Nezu had barely caught his breath when the sound of footfalls thundered behind him.
He turned—
"Midoriya!"
"... Honey? Where did you disappear to?!"
Izuku stopped, breathing shallowly, his shadow arms tightening protectively around the limp child. His gaze landed first on Nezu, then on the old tall dean behind him, and then—through the glass—on All Might.
Even through the smudged window, he could see it.
The monitors were failing.
The Symbol of Peace was dying.
He can feel it, his figure was flickering in and out of his Quirk space inside One for All.
With the death of All Might, Japan will fall and the economy of the entire world will be impacted, crime will rise globally until things heat up to a global trade war that could lead to a world war IV in less than three decades.
Toshinori Yagi is the most important person in the world, he must not die yet. Not while the world isn't ready for his absence.
Izuku didn't speak. He walked past them, quiet and determined, heading for Recovery Girl and the wall of despair waiting just behind that ICU door.
"Wait!" Inko rushed after him.
"Who is that child?" Aizawa followed.
Nezu didn't move to stop him. Instead, the mouse-like genius smiled, gently and unexpectedly.
"I trust you, Midoriya Izuku!"
---
Musutafu General Hospital – Intensive Care Unit
The heavy doors hissed open.
A rush of compressed air hit Izuku in the face, mixing antiseptic and panic, cold steel and human desperation. The beeping monitors, sharp orders, and muffled sobs created a dissonant symphony of helplessness.
But as Izuku stepped through, time slowed.
All Might lay barely alive—more spirit than man. His body looked like wax melting into the bed, skin thin as paper, veins glowing faint blue under bruises. His chest rose, then struggled. His Quirkless form could no longer hold the weight of the world.
Beside him stood Recovery Girl, her breath uneven. Her gloves were stained, her hair clung to her forehead in damp strings, and for once—for once—her hands trembled openly.
She turned when she saw Izuku.
"Midoriya," she breathed, her voice cracking with unshed tears. "Please tell me you have something—anything. I've tried everything. He's not responding—his body's too damaged. My Quirk… it's not enough."
Inko gasped from behind, startled by the clear sight before her, her hands over her mouth in horror.
On the far side of the room, Eraserhead stood near the window, eyes narrowed but unreadable. Yet something in his posture, some crack in that wall of composure, showed: he was afraid.
His idol that he looked up to his whole life is falling.
Izuku looked down at Eri in his arms.
Her face was peaceful now. But behind her closed eyes, he knew the trauma still spun like a storm. Her horn—glowing faintly—looked too fragile to be asked for anything again.
He swallowed hard. Guilt knotted around his throat like wire, saliva feeling like acid.
He took a step forward. "I need space. All of you—move back."
Recovery Girl hesitated, but something in his voice made her obey. She stepped away from All Might, eyes wide. Inko didn't move until Aizawa gently guided her back, though they remained in the room.
Izuku knelt beside All Might's bed, laying Eri down with reverent care.
Then he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else:
"I'm sorry, Eri…"
He reached down and brushed her white hair back.
"…just this once…"
A single black tendril slithered out from his back, slick and glistening like living shadow. It arced slowly, deliberately—
"…one final pain."
And stabbed her.
Eri's body jolted.
Her mouth opened—and she screamed.
The sound was not human.
It was too raw, too wounded. The room shook with the power of it. Her horn ignited like a starburst, flaring with golden arcs that crackled and tore through the air in wild, chaotic pulses. Her Quirk exploded awake, primal and uncontrolled, as time spiraled backward all around her.
Golden light flooded the ICU, bending walls, lifting tiles, blowing monitors into static. Recovery Girl screamed something, but her voice was lost in the quake of unbridled energy.
Izuku didn't move. He reached out, cradled Eri's hand—
—and let go.
One For All: 200%.
A surge of power so great it turned the very air into thunder.
Izuku's muscles erupted, tearing apart in spirals of blood. His veins lit up like molten wires. Crimson flooded his eyes before they rolled white, body thrashing violently as every nerve in him shattered under the weight of 200% power, skin turning deep red as his body entered a state of constant explosion.
His screams were silent.
His body convulsed—and then collapsed to his knees.
A ring of blinding gold swirled out from Eri, sweeping across the room like a divine shockwave.
All Might's eyes flew open.
He gasped—and the monitor beside him screamed to life.
Color returned to his skin. His bones mended, lungs reinflated. Muscles stirred under his once-shriveled frame. His hair grew fuller, thicker. The Symbol of Peace was returning from the grave.
Beside him, Inko fell to her knees. She looked at her own hands and gasped.
Smooth. Strong.
Her face was no longer tired and drawn. She looked like she was in her twenties again, breathless and overwhelmed. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"GUCK! HAAAAHHH!!!!" Resisting the attacks of the enrgy that was reverting him back in time, Aizawa directly opened his eyes, stopping both Eri and Izuku's Quirks.
Eri fell back, leaning on Izuku's chest.
Izuku fell back, back leaning on the wall as his head fell down, unconscious.
His injuries vanished.
Hands returned.
Scars reversed.
Bones realigned.
But the damage he'd endured to activate that much power—the pain—would linger somewhere far beyond the flesh.
Eri's injury disappeared alongside her horn.
The light returned to the room, flickering back to life, with it, another heartbeat flickered back to life with a war cry.
All Might, breathed in deeply, enjoying the large amount of air that entered his two lungs, he flexed his body and felt thrilled as strength surged through him like a never-ending river of gold.
A deep sense of hunger enveloped him, as if he hasn't eaten in years.
His stomach is back.
His muscles are back.
His lungs are back.
No injury, nothing.
He got up, ripping the tools over his powerful body and directly hugged his pupil.
"Boy... Boy.. You did it... You saved me!" he began to cry, his voice younger and full of a sense of gratefulness.
The spectators looked at the scene in shock and disbelief.
"Ya... gi?"
A voice called out, femenine, kind, sweet and young.
Toshinori turned his gaze, staring at the figure for a while until realization struck him.
"Inko?!"
Inko, now back in her young twenties, looked like a beautiful angel, her glossy hair and kind gaze filled with tears sent critical damage into Yagi's heart.
Inko directly hugged him tightly, her head nestled over his chest, she looked up towards him with a bashful, tearful expression.
The sight was so unbearably cute that Yagi directly passed out with a smile.
"YAGI?!?"