Chapter Text
Serene was a word you could have used to describe Musutafu, Japan. Especially when it was winter. But serene did not apply to this particular day. Since morning the frigid winter wind had brought with it an overcast so bleak, and snowfall so penetrating, that somber was the only word for it.
Late in the afternoon the snow continued to float down onto the white-covered balcony belonging to Naomasa Tsukauchi’s apartment and obscured the view of the city. Perched on the couch staring at the TV, Toshinori was doing nothing more than watching the anchorman’s lips move as his mind—and rapidly darkening thoughts—drifted elsewhere.
For Toshinori, Sunday had started with the pain of waking up. It was the kind of pain that he had been living with for the past eight years—so nothing new. He spent the first part of his waking hour stretching out the stiffness from his body, assessing his pain levels, sorting out his medication for the upcoming week, washing up, throwing on whatever outfit he had picked out the night before, and then heading down into the common room for a light breakfast and some tea. Sunday was his free day. All week Toshinori taught Foundational Hero Studies to his aspiring hero students at U.A. High School . Saturday was his lesson-planning day. So Sundays were really the only days he could spend however he pleased.
Toshinori left U.A.’s campus each Sunday afternoon and rode with Naomasa to either a café they had picked out or his apartment for a home-cooked meal. They had started this because their jobs made it hard to schedule regular meet-ups during any other days of the week. They usually spent their time together as most long-time friends did: speaking about whatever the other had been up to all that week, sharing funny stories, and taking the opportunity to wind down after a toiling workweek. Sometimes Naomasa would ask for Toshinori’s input on a case—but not often. (Toshinori was officially retired from hero work, though he still loved to help and always lent his services eagerly.)
Up until after seven o’clock of this Sunday evening, things had been going fine.
It was one of Toshinori’s better days pain-wise, though breathing in the frigid temperature outside had irritated his lung, resulting in more than one coughing fit. Villain activity had been wondrously low recently; Toshinori had even managed to put on some weight over the past year, thanks in part to his retirement and lack of having to push his body beyond its limit anymore. He and Naomasa had opted to drive to the detective’s apartment and share a home-cooked meal. They took turns preparing each week’s dinner. This week it had been Naomasa’s turn, and they had eaten fish, rice, and vegetables. It wasn’t until after the table had been cleared, and Naomasa had kicked him out of the kitchen to the living room that Toshinori’s day had taken a sudden turn for the worst. Now, staring blankly at the TV, he silently cursed himself for not having managed to put a stop to this oh so many years ago.
“How?” was all he could manage.
“We don’t know,” said Naomasa, almost collapsing onto the couch beside him, his hand keeping his mug of tea steady. He took a small sip of it and then set it down on the wooden table in front of them, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. Heavy eye bags and unusually pale skin spoke volumes about the Beta’s exhaustion. He sighed, “It happened during the storm last night. There was a power outage that lasted five minutes. The prisoners all reacted in tandem—almost like someone was coordinating their moves. All For One’s cell was broken into by another inmate. By the time security got a handle on things and power was restored, it was already too late. It’s the biggest security failure we’ve suffered to date.”
Toshinori’s left side ached. He covered it with one hand and stared down at his own tea mug, faintly steaming and mostly untouched. “You think All For One planned it somehow?”
Toshinori saw Naomasa wince unpleasantly in the corner of his eyes and lean back heavily onto the couch cushions behind him. “I don’t know. Tartarus is the highest security prison in the country. All For One was completely isolated from the other inmates, but we both know how many Quirks he has stored in his body. It’s not impossible to think that he might have found a way to communicate with the other prisoners and coordinate an escape during the storm. Either way, it had to have been an inside job.”
“And Shigaraki?”
“No sign that he was involved.” Naomasa was quiet for a moment, resting his head on the back of the couch. Then he opened his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry.”
Toshinori shook his head. “Don’t be. It was bound to happen sooner or later. I should have known better than to think that even Tartarus would be able to hold him.” He stared down at his hands, crooked and scarred, resting limply on his lap. His left side where the sunburst of scar tissue remained from his second-ever encounter with All For One throbbed as his muscles tightened. It had been almost three years since his fight at Kamino Ward—almost three years since All For One was locked away—
There was a moment’s silence, and then Naomasa asked him, “What do you think he will do?”
Toshinori rubbed his forehead, and he sagged back loosely on the couch. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “He might go into hiding for a while—he’s never been the type to rush into anything without some sort of plan. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t resurface again for years—” His hand fell limply back unto his lap. “But beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”
He felt Naomasa’s hand on his shoulder. He was squeezed reassuringly, his friend’s Beta scent exuding calmness like the soft wind rippling through the trees. He thought briefly of his own scent. It was undetectable thanks to the various suppressants he took.
“We’ll try again,” Naomasa told him.
Toshinori barely heard him, too occupied by his own thoughts. He had already given it his all twice up until this point. He couldn’t even buff up into his muscle form anymore. There wasn’t another fight left in him.
“Right,” Toshinori said, sighing. He bent forward and took up his mug of tea.
Outside, the snow continued to fall.
* * *
It was nine when Toshinori got up to go home. Naomasa came to wait outside on the stairwell with him in the chilly evening air, bundled up tightly in that beige overcoat of his. Though both men were shivering, neither one suggested that they wait inside, preferring instead to stand in thought and watch the opaque clouds sail across the night sky at a languorous pace.
“You should have let me drive you back to U.A.,” Naomasa said, breathing into his hands to try and warm them up.
Toshinori waved him off. “Thanks, but you need to sleep. You look like death warmed over.” He nudged his shoulder against Naomasa’s and turned to look at him, and Naomasa shook his head with a tired smile.
“Besides,” he continued, turning back to look over the railing: “that’s my ride pulling up now.”
Both men looked down into the parking lot below where a black taxi was pulling up, the glare from its headlights cutting through the falling snow.
“That was quick,” Naomasa said, blinking and lifting his hand to smother a yawn. Toshinori nodded and pulled his coat tighter to himself, the freezing air making him cough. Naomasa reached up his hand and clasped his shoulder. “And try not to worry so much. Get some rest. We’ll figure something out.”
Toshinori nodded a little, but he didn’t believe him and did not answer. He shook from the cold and stepped back from the railing. At last, he said, “I should get going if I want to make it back in time to check on the students. Goodnight, Naomasa.”
“Goodnight,” his friend called after him, as Toshinori went down the stairs to the parking lot.
Overhead the sky was a ferocious grey, but fractures of darkness shone through the spreading bank of clouds. It was still lightly snowing, and snowflakes collected in his hair and melted.
As Toshinori approached the taxi car he could see the silhouette of a man sitting in the driver seat. He pulled open the back door with burning hands and ducked into the backseat. Here, he attempted to shift his body into a comfortable position—a task made all the more difficult due to his seven-foot frame.
Between arranging his body and putting on his seatbelt, he glanced at the driver. His naked head, with the wrinkles and discoloration of age, had the apparent texture of a shiny avocado. Presently the driver asked in a raspy voice, “Where to?”
“Ah—to U.A., please,” Toshinori replied.
The driver made no answer but put on the car’s turning signal as he pulled up to the curb, stopped briefly, and turned out of the parking lot onto the street.
Toshinori sighed. It was as if one of his worst nightmares was playing out in real life. And all because I made the mistake of thinking he was dead, he thought. I should have checked to make sure. What a fool I was. Damned if he isn’t the reason I turned out like this. I lost everything . . . Nana . . . my health . . . Now he’s not only still alive, but he’s broken out of prison—the highest security prison in all of Japan, at that! And I can’t even fight him. One For All no longer exists within my body . . . this weak body . . . now I’m the one who needs protecting. My students mean well. They're shaping up to be great heroes, I can see that. Midoriya hardly ever looks back at me anymore. Doesn’t need to . . . What a hero he’s turning out to be! Couldn’t have chosen a better kid as a successor. If he manages to master One For All, with that kind of headwork, and the heart and courage he has, what a hero he will be. That’s one thing that’s gone right. I hope I live long enough to see him come to his own as a hero. Wish he didn’t have to have a target on his back . . . my fault somehow . . . I should have fought harder the second time I faced up against All For One . . . thought he was dead . . . but he wasn’t . . . if only I had fought harder . . .
Toshinori looked wearily and unseeingly out the window, watched the snow that was floating down in thought for a moment, then stared down at his hands in his lap and allowed himself to be distracted by the way the light from the street illuminated all the scars and roughness of them.
The driver’s raspy voice jolted him out of his concentration—
“Somethin’ on your mind tonight?”
“You could say that.” Toshinori rubbed his hands together in his lap. Idly his eyes were fixed on the indescribable faces of the few pedestrians that they drove past. He caught fleeting glimpses of colorful scarves and hunched shoulders and hoods pulled up to cover rosy cheeks.
“Worried about those students of yours?”
“Students of mine—Ah.” Toshinori ran a hand tiredly over his face. He had hoped that the driver would just ignore the part about him requesting to be taken to U.A. at so late a time on a Sunday, but he supposed he couldn’t blame him for being curious. He just prayed that the driver hadn’t recognized him. As All Might he could deal with the pressure that came with being at the center of attention, but as Toshinori Yagi he still felt uncomfortable when strangers' looks roved over his skeletal frame.
This skinny body had come only as the result of a battle he ultimately hadn’t even won considering All For One was currently neither dead nor locked up. What a joke —
“I know all my students will make fine heroes someday,” he said. And then with a note of genuine laughter in his voice, “But even then, I’ll still worry about them. Once a worrywart, always a worrywart—or so I’ve been told.”
The driver did not answer, but hummed a thoughtful little tune and continued to drive down the snowy streets. Perhaps it was the lilt in his voice that gave Toshinori pause. He looked up at the driver curiously for an instant—
He could see nothing but the back of the head and shoulders of the man sitting in the driver seat, and the darker, rough patches between the folds of the skin. Then he glimpsed the man’s smile in the rear-view mirror, and the silhouette vanished as his mind immediately grabbed hold of the man’s identity under the passing streetlight.
Toshinori felt his heart stutter.
“Ah,” All For One’s voice rang out on a note of clarity. He was smiling widely, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Probably because his face was made up of scar tissue. He no longer had eyes. “If I were you I would be more concerned with what is going to happen to you—” His grin spread. “ Former Symbol of Peace .”
“SHIT!” Toshinori instinctively tried to reach for One For All and inflate into his empowered form—
And the world went dark and silent.
* * *
Toshinori opened his eyes.
He was lying on his back on a mattress on the floor.
He was still alive.
And it seemed like quite possibly the worst thing that could have happened.
He blinked and sat up slowly, trying to gather his wits. The room was shrouded in heavy darkness yet he could still see everything in crude detail. How long had he been unconscious? He went to move forward, but something prevented him from doing so. He raised his hand up to his neck. Something cold and smooth met his fingers. He braved a glance over his shoulder.
It was a chain. He was collared and shackled to the wall.
Swallowing against the uncomfortable tightness of the metal pressed against his throat, Toshinori looked around and tried to make sense of his surroundings. There was no one else in the small dark room with him, from what he could tell, though he could not help but feel uneasy as if some invisible force was watching him. He put his hand on his collar and felt around experimentally just to see if there was some sort of lock he could try to pick.
He found nothing.
Toshinori fought back the feelings of panic starting to rise up and tried to keep a clear head of what was happening. Panicking now would do nothing for him. As All Might he had been in worse situations than this. He could handle this—
Except he wasn’t All Might anymore—not another fight left in him—now Quirkless and his body weak—he had never had to wear a collar as All Might—if only he still had One For All, then he could buff up and break out of there easily—
His hands were cold and trembling as he let them fall back onto his lap. He tried to breathe more easily by shutting his eyes for a moment and focusing on the thud of his loud heartbeat in his chest. Then he reopened his eyes and looked down at his hands and saw something that made him freeze. His hands—
His hands were no longer scarred and crooked from years of fighting; they were youthfully shaped with lovely, smooth, undamaged skin. He reached up and touched his face—his cheeks were full and not sunken in like a skeleton—his brittle blonde hair had the same fullness and soft texture as when he was young. He took a deep breath. He could breathe without pain. He lifted up the bottom of his white dress shirt—his long coat and scarf and shoes were missing—and watched, fascinated and frozen, as it revealed a healthy chest and stomach that was without the concave scar that took up his entire left side like an angry, throbbing, thick spider web. He touched the spot with his hand. There was no twinge of nerve pain.
An illusion, Toshinori thought. A hallucination brought on by a Quirk or possibly some drug I was injected with while unconscious. Either that or I’m still dreaming.
Suddenly Toshinori heard the sound of a deadbolt grating as the door across the room opened. Then entered the erect, heavy figure of the man whom Toshinori had hated through the years—All For One, adorned in his black suit and life support tube connected to his throat, walking casually towards the end of the mattress—
Toshinori’s spine went rigid. He was about to inflate into his muscle form but he remembered that it was a transformation no longer available to him. It had been lost to him after his final clash with All For One at Kamino Ward around three years ago: afterward, the best he could do was buff up for a few moments before transforming back into a giant cloud of steam. Now he couldn’t even do that much.
So instead he settled for sitting very erect and stiff near the head of the mattress while his eyes burned with a glow of wrath and defiance.
All For One stood at the foot of the mattress, regarding him with that faceless head of his.
And then finally All For One spoke.
“Look at you, Symbol of Peace,” he said, his voice as clear as it had been since the day Toshinori had first encountered him on that oil rig, so many years ago. “You who obliterated so many of my comrades with that body of yours—and now a mere chain can hold you down. Even after I blessed you with the restoration of your youth, you are weak .” He shook his head. “You are an echo of your former self, All Might.”
Toshinori said nothing. He refused to give the villain the reaction he was hoping to evoke. The scent of a powerful Alpha was in his nostrils, and in the stuffy room, he could smell nothing else. He could feel his instincts going wild at the trapped feeling he had building up inside of him. Alphas weren’t supposed to want to flee—
“What’s this,” remarked All For One, in a mocking tone. “Not going to attempt to break free and attack me? The All Might I knew could have broken that with a single finger. I know you are Quirkless, but I had expected some fighting spirit from you at least. How disappointing.”
Toshinori said nothing. He knew the villain had a tendency to monologue on and off the battlefield in hopes of manipulating or getting a rise out of people.
“Not going to answer?” said All For One.
Toshinori said nothing.
“What a shame. I always enjoyed exchanging words with you while we traded blows on the battlefield. You were so talkative then.” He remained silent, and All For One spread his arms out wide. “Oh come now! I’m sure you have questions you want to ask me. Such as why I brought you here, instead of outright killing you. I would be happy to answer any questions you may have.”
That much was true. If there was one thing All For One liked to do and was good at, it was talk. He was as skilled with his words as he was with his fists—maybe even more—
“What do you want from me?” Toshinori grit out at last.
“Straight to the point,” smiled All For One. “I always did admire that about you. I preferred it even to that ridiculous smile you always wore. Where is your smile now, I wonder?”
“I don’t see the need to smile in front of you,” Toshinori said.
“Is that so?” remarked All For One, still smiling. “I suppose I should feel honored. The great Symbol of Peace no longer feels the need to hide behind a smile in front of me.”
Toshinori said nothing. You’re wrong, he thought. I smiled for the people to give them reassurance and hope. I wanted them to feel safe. You always did mistake it for my weakness.
“Even your predecessor felt the need to die smiling. And the way she died was so pathetic . Shall I tell you all about it?”
From long experience, Toshinori bristled immediately. He knew that All For One was aware that with one twist of the tongue he could plunge Toshinori into inner turmoil by bringing up the death of his former master at the villain’s hands. After years of tactical study, Toshinori knew his enemy but, although he had fought and beaten him twice in the past, he had not yet learned how to repair the enemy’s tongue-lash damage.
Some of what he was feeling must have been known because All For One continued to rub salt into the old wound: “How embarrassing for me, the creator of One For All, to see someone like her inherit its powers: a weak woman who couldn’t even live up to her own ideals. And then to pass it on to a subhuman such as yourself, an Omega —with no Quirk of your own to amplify its powers—”
“So why not kill me? Just what is it you want?” Toshinori interrupted. He spoke mildly, but inwardly he was seething. Give me just two minutes with One For All back in my body and I’ll have United States of Smashed his face in all over again. If only I still had One For All within me—I shouldn’t let his words get to me—
All For One smiled. It was a ghastly sight. “Kill you?” he said. “Why would I want to kill you? You are of no threat to me. What purpose would your death serve now? When you have already been reduced to nothing?”
He was looking for the most hurtful ways to tell the truth, but Toshinori already knew the truth. He had spent the last three years on the sidelines being treated like a fragile relic in need of protection by the very people he had once fought alongside—unable to do anything but watch helplessly when his students were in danger—unable to do anything but transfer his accumulated wealth of combat knowledge through words.
“What do you want?” Toshinori said flatly, suddenly impatient for whatever was going to happen.
“Oh come now,” the villain said, “there’s no need to pretend like you don’t know why it is I brought you here.”
Here it comes, Toshinori thought. He’d known from the start that All For One had never planned to kill him—
“I want to break you.”
* * *
Toshinori didn’t move from the mattress. He kept his head held high and his eyes on the villain with a challenging light.
“Not going to respond?” All For One asked.
Toshinori didn’t answer.
“Surely you have something you want to say in response,” All For One said.
Toshinori clenched his fist on the mattress beside him, lifted his chin, and glared at the villain. “Regardless of what happens to my body, in my heart, I will always be the hero who was once the Symbol of Peace. Nothing you’ve ever done has managed to take that from me, nor will it ever.”
“Is that so?” All For One said, his face splitting into a malevolent grin. “That may have been true for All Might the Alpha , but your breed is hardly deserving of the same level of respect bestowed upon him.”
Toshinori’s heart stopped.
He couldn’t mean—
There was no way he could mean—
There was no way he could know that .
No. No . He was taking suppressants that masked his scent. He had been on them for longer than even All For One had known him—
“Don’t act so surprised,” said All For One. “Surely you would have expected that I would find out sooner or later? I have eyes and ears everywhere in Japan.”
Toshinori felt his stomach clench, like he was preparing for a blow.
“Imagine my surprise,” All For One continued, “when I learned that not only was the world’s great Symbol of Peace without a natural Quirk of his own but that he was an Omega as well. To think that the world’s greatest hero was actually an Omega, who not only lied about his true self to the public, but was also an unbonded Omega working in the hero industry at that. What would they think of you now, I wonder?”
Toshinori’s heart began to pound, and he swallowed to relieve the dryness in his throat.
“If they were to find out, that is. I wouldn’t have brought you here if humiliating you publically were all that interested me. I already know from our battle at Kamino, which revealed to the world your true appearance, that it alone wouldn’t be enough to annihilate your golden heart.”
Toshinori realized what it was All For One planned to do with him, too late.
Black tendrils with red lines shot forward from All For One’s fingers and shoved Toshinori back until he was flat on his back against the mattress. Before he had a chance to react, the tendrils from the villain’s fingers had enveloped his extremities, pinning him immovably to the mattress.
“I couldn’t help but notice that during all our encounters throughout the years,” All For One continued, “you were always completely devoid of any scent.” He slowly circled around the mattress to stand near Toshinori’s side. “While I find it difficult to believe that an Omega of your age has never had any partners, I suppose you always were the type to focus solely on your career.”
Toshinori said nothing. Inwardly, his terror was mounting. Not once had he ever taken a partner. You might assume that as All Might he had plenty of bedding experience, but the opposite was true. He had refrained from being intimately involved with anyone due to both a fear of the truth about his status as an Omega being leaked to the public, as well as an instinctual desire to preserve himself for a mate, should he ever decide to take one.
Not that he ever had.
All For One grasped his face and pressed it almost painfully. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you,” he said, bending down so his disfigured face was close to Toshinori’s. His Alpha scent was nearly overpowering this close, but Toshinori’s sensitive nose could also pick up on a rather sickly smell that emanated from him—a pungent scent of wrongness that had his Omega instincts recoiling. All For One released him, sliding his right hand down toward Toshinori’s chest. Instinctively, Toshinori’s quick mind grasped the fact that he was still within striking distance and he smashed his forehead into the villain’s face. The pain from it brought tears to his eyes, but for a split second, the tendrils gripping him loosened. He yanked himself free, but in the same instant, All For One slammed a fist into the side of his head. He felt the pain in his teeth, his eyeballs, down to his fingertips. His first thought was that the blow had damaged his brain.
Amid the dizzy spell that overtook him, All For One flung him roughly backward so that he was flat on his back against the mattress again. He felt something cold and hard fasten around his wrists and ankles, so tight that it cut into his skin. The feel of it broke the spell and resurrected a primal desperation in him. He tried kicking, twisting, flinging himself wildly, but the shackles were strong. All For One seized the neckline of his white button-up shirt, and in a series of deft movements, used his hands to rip it away in pieces from his body. Toshinori snarled, trying to dodge the hands now touching his bare skin, but they stayed with him. All For One landed another blow on his head. He was dizzy, vomit rising in his throat. Had he even an ounce of One For All in his body—
All For One was tearing away his pants, leaving scratch marks on his skin under where his clothes had covered his thighs and hips. The air in the room was cold, and he was naked but for the metal collar around his neck and the cuffs on his wrists and ankles. His skin prickled. He felt All For One’s hand on where his scar had previously been and was unable to hold back a flinch.
“I cannot help but feel conflicted,” All For One said, and with his body so close to his own, Toshinori’s nose filled with the terror-inducing smells of the Alpha. “Should I inflict pleasure or pain? What I want most is for you to suffer. Perhaps a bit of both is what will finally shatter that indomitable spirit of yours.”
Toshinori opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His mind felt like liquid, spilling out of him, unable to hold a thought—
All For One was grinning broadly, wildly, almost triumphantly, as if the lack of a response was exactly what he was looking for. His black dress pants and briefs were now off. He lowered himself onto the mattress. Toshinori tried to fight him, twisting and squirming, his arms yanking uselessly at the shackles. All For One hit him again, and he felt his body sag. Then All For One pushed himself into him and his mind shut down completely.
It wasn’t over quickly. It continued for what seemed like an impossible eternity. Enough time for the earth to rumble and split, dragging him into a dark place, where there was a gap between him and the person he had been. He bled for hours afterward.