Chapter 4
The dusk painted shadows across the unfamiliar street as Izuku checked the address on his phone again. His hands still trembled, not from the evening chill but from the encounter with Bakugo just hours before.
I could have done it.
The thought came unbidden, accompanied by a familiar burning sensation behind his eyes.
He'd had Bakugo on the ground, for once looking up at him instead of sneering down. One more hit would have wiped that arrogant look off his face forever. The memory of Bakugo's taunts still rang in his ears, each word stoking something dark and ancient within him.
He deserves worse than what you gave him.
Izuku shook his head violently, trying to silence the voice that had grown louder lately. The only thing that had stayed his hand was imagining All Might's disappointed face.
The Symbol of Peace wouldn't approve of such violence, no matter how justified it felt.
Why should you care what he thinks?
The burning behind his eyes intensified, and Izuku had to stop walking for a moment. This wasn't their usual meeting spot at Takoba Municipal Beach Park. Instead, All Might had texted him an address on the other side of town, nestled between what looked like abandoned shops and offices.
Why would All Might want to meet here?
The thought mercifully distracted him from the lingering rage. Izuku's footsteps echoed against the empty sidewalk as he approached the building. Its weathered facade and dark windows gave him pause. Maybe this was where All Might actually lived? The thought made him nervous - he'd never been invited to his mentor's home before.
The door creaked as he knocked, the sound seeming to bounce off the empty buildings around him. No response came. Izuku shifted his weight from foot to foot, unsure whether to try again or wait. After a moment's hesitation, he tested the handle. It turned easily.
Should I really go in?
The inside was dim, dust particles dancing in what little sunlight filtered through the grimy windows. And there, in the middle of the floor, was a sight that made Izuku's blood run cold, all thoughts of Bakugo instantly forgotten.
Toshinori lay crumpled on the ground, a dark pool spreading beneath his skeletal form. Blood. There was so much blood.
"A-All Might!" The cry tore from Izuku's throat as he rushed forward, his knees hitting the floor hard beside his mentor. His hands hovered uselessly over Toshinori's still form, afraid to touch, afraid to make things worse.
The pain hit suddenly, like someone had driven an ice pick into his temples. Izuku's vision swam as panic clawed at his chest. The Symbol of Peace lay broken before him, and he had no idea what to do. The headache intensified, a familiar burning sensation building behind his eyes.
Think!
What do I do? What do I do?
His breath came in sharp gasps as the pressure in his head built to a crescendo. Through the haze of pain, one thought cut through with crystal clarity:
I can't lose him, too!
The world shifted, edges sharpening as a deep crimson began to seep into his vision. And with it came a clarity that pierced through his panic like a blade.
The blow caught Izuku in the back before he could even register movement, and another hit his side before he could even gasp in pain. He stumbled forward, barely catching himself before hitting the ground next to Toshinori's prone form.
Behind me!
He spun around to face a diminutive figure standing in the shadows. The man's features were obscured in the dim light, but his presence felt like a storm contained in a bottle.
"Did... did you do this?" Izuku's voice trembled, gesturing towards All Might. The figure said nothing, just tilted his head slightly.
Then he vanished.
A rush of wind was all the warning Izuku got before another hit slammed into his side, sending him sprawling. The attacker ricocheted off the walls like a pinball, each bounce punctuated by another strike against Izuku's increasingly battered body. Left shoulder. Right knee. Small of his back.
I can't see him. I can't see anything!
The impacts came faster now, a rhythmic beating that left Izuku gasping for air. He tried to raise his arms in defense, but the attacks seemed to find every opening, every vulnerable spot. His legs buckled as another blow caught him behind the knees.
Someone help. Please, someone...
The familiar pressure began building behind his eyes, but it wasn't enough. Not yet. Another hit sent him stumbling into a wall, and he could taste blood in his mouth. The pain was overwhelming, but worse was the helplessness. Just like with Bakugo, just like every other time in his life.
All Might is dead, and I can't do anything!
"Stop!" he screamed into the darkness, his voice cracking. "Why are you doing this? Why did you hurt All Might?"
The only response was another devastating blow to his ribs. Izuku fell to his knees, tears of frustration mixing with blood from a cut above his eye. The pressure in his head built further, a pounding that matched his racing heart.
I need to see! I need to fight! I need to...
His gaze fell on Toshinori's motionless form, and something inside him snapped. The rage that had been simmering since his fight with Bakugo erupted into an inferno, bringing with it a pain so intense it felt like his eyes were being torn apart.
"I'll make you pay for this!!!" The scream ripped from his throat, raw and primal. "What did you do to All Might?! Why?! Why?!"
The world suddenly shifted, colors bleeding away as a crimson overlay tinted his vision. Each shadow became crisp, each movement leaving tracers in the air that his mind could suddenly process. The pain in his head transformed into a sharp clarity that cut through his panic like a blade.
His attacker was coming again, but this time Izuku saw it coming. He shifted just enough that the blow only grazed his shoulder instead of catching him full force. His attacker seemed to pause for just a fraction of a second - surprise, perhaps?
But Izuku was already moving, driven by an anger that felt older than himself. His movements became more precise, each dodge bringing him closer to catching his target. His eyes glowed red in the darkness, tracking patterns that were becoming clearer with each pass.
I'll make him suffer.
The thought wasn't entirely his own, but Izuku embraced it anyway. His fingers curled into claws as he anticipated the next attack, ready to grab, to hurt, to make this man pay for what he'd done. The crimson in his vision deepened as his rage grew, and with it came an almost predatory focus. He wasn't just trying to defend anymore - he was hunting.
The pain of his injuries faded beneath the burning need for vengeance. Each movement now had purpose, each dodge calculated. Where before he had been prey, now he felt like something else entirely - something that made the darkness feel like home.
His attacker changed direction mid-air - a maneuver that should have been impossible to track. But Izuku's eyes caught the subtle shift in stance, the minute adjustments that telegraphed the next attack. He twisted away from the incoming blow, his body moving with an instinct he didn't know he possessed.
"Who are you?!" Izuku's voice had changed, deeper and filled with a hatred that surprised even him. "Why did you hurt him?!"
Another attack came, faster this time, but Izuku was beginning to see the pattern. The man wasn't just fast - he used something to propel himself, creating bursts of force that launched him from surface to surface. The realization came with crystal clarity, his enhanced vision picking up details his normal sight would have missed.
There's a pattern. There has to be!
The next exchange was brutal. Though Izuku could see the attacks coming, his body couldn't keep up with every movement. A kick caught him in the chest, sending him stumbling back, but he managed to graze his attacker's costume with his fingertips. The contact sent a thrill through him - he was getting closer.
"You hurt All Might," Izuku snarled, the words tasting like copper in his mouth. The rage that had started as a spark was now a roaring flame, feeding something ancient and terrible inside him. "You'll pay for that. You'll pay!"
His vision tunneled, the crimson deepening until the world seemed bathed in blood. Each movement of his attacker left afterimages he could track, like a deadly dance written in the air. The pain of his injuries became distant, secondary to the burning need to catch, to hurt, to destroy.
This power... I need more!!!
The thought scared him, but he couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. Not while All Might lay bleeding on the floor. Not while this monster was still standing. His eyes burned brighter in the darkness, twin points of red that reflected a hatred older than himself.
He was no longer the same Izuku who had walked into this building. Something else moved with his body now, something that understood violence in a way that should have terrified him. But in that moment, bleeding and burning with rage, he welcomed it.
The scattered planks creaked beneath Izuku's feet as he circled the room, his crimson eyes tracking every shadow. His breaths came in sharp pants, each one carrying the metallic taste of blood from his split lip. But the pain was distant now, secondary to the burning need to end this.
I can still catch him. I have to catch him!!!
The thought came with perfect clarity as he snatched up a loose board, hurling it towards where his instincts screamed his attacker would appear. The wood splintered against the wall, but Izuku was already moving, grabbing another, then another. Each throw more precise than the last, guided by eyes that could now track the minute disturbances in the dusty air.
There's a pattern. Three bounces, then he strikes.
He scattered debris in a wide arc, creating a makeshift minefield of obstacles. Dust billowed up from his movements, and through his enhanced vision, Izuku could see how it swirled and parted around his invisible opponent's path.
Got you!
The attack came exactly where he predicted, but this time Izuku was ready. His fist shot out, enhanced by the crystalline clarity that came with his transformed vision. The impact sent shockwaves up his arm, but the rage burning behind his eyes demanded more. His other hand was already moving, clawing for his attacker's throat.
Make him pay. Make him suffer.
The voice wasn't entirely his own anymore, rising from a well of crimson that threatened to drown his thoughts. Each movement became more vicious, more precise, guided by an anger that felt ancient and terrible.
"Young Midoriya! Stop!"
The command boomed through the room with the force of a thunderclap. Steam erupted as Toshinori's skeletal form expanded into the towering figure of All Might. But even the Symbol of Peace's voice seemed distant, muffled by the roaring in Izuku's ears.
He hurt All Might. He has to pay. Has to bleed.
"This isn't you!" All Might's massive hand caught Izuku's wrist mid-strike. "Control yourself!"
The touch was gentle but firm, and something in All Might's voice - the worry, the command, the faith that Izuku was better than this - began to pierce through the red haze. Izuku blinked, his enhanced vision flickering as two warring impulses fought for control.
No... this isn't... I'm not...
The clarity that had made every movement so precise began to fade, replaced by a crushing awareness of what he'd almost done. His legs buckled as the rage receded, leaving him gasping on his knees. The burning behind his eyes dulled to a persistent ache, a reminder of the power that had almost consumed him.
Steam hissed as All Might deflated back into Toshinori's form, followed by a wet cough and spatters of blood on the floor. The sight made Izuku's heart clench, but for a different reason now.
"Young Midoriya, are you-"
"Don't!" Izuku's voice cracked as water formed around his eyes. "Don't ever scare me like that again! I thought... I really thought..."
His hands were shaking, and not just from exertion. The rage might have receded, but he could still feel it there, waiting in that deep well of red behind his eyes. What terrified him most wasn't the power itself, but how natural it had felt to want to hurt, to destroy.
"I'm sorry," Toshinori said softly, wiping blood from his mouth. "But we needed to see-"
"See what?" Izuku's voice was barely a whisper. "See that I can't control it? That I might hurt someone?"
The diminutive figure that had been his opponent stepped forward, and for the first time, Izuku really looked at him. The professional hero costume, those distinctive gauntlets... recognition flickered through his exhausted mind.
"What you just experienced," the old man said, his gruff voice carrying an unexpected weight, "is exactly why you need training."
Izuku stared at his trembling hands, remembering the clarity, the power, the rage that had felt simultaneously foreign and familiar. Like an inheritance he'd never asked for, a legacy written in the crimson of his transformed eyes.
What's happening to me?
The question hung unspoken in the air, heavy with implications none of them were ready to address.
"Young Midoriya, let me introduce you to Gran Torino," Toshinori said, gesturing to Izuku's opponent.
Izuku blinked as he stared at the diminutive elderly man before him, the crimson bleeding from his vision. Those large gauntlets, the old-fashioned hero costume... something clicked in his memory. His eyes widened as recognition finally dawned.
Gran Torino... THE Gran Torino?
His mind raced through what little information he'd managed to find about the retired Pro Hero in his research. There wasn't much - the man had retired early and kept a low profile - but what Izuku did know made his breath catch. Gran Torino had been the fastest hero of his generation, his speed almost unmatched even by today's standards.
"You... that was the Jet Quirk," Izuku breathed, awe replacing his earlier rage as he realized what he'd been witnessing. The way the old hero had bounced off walls, his incredible speed - it was one thing to read about such a legendary Quirk, but to experience it firsthand…
Then the full weight of what he'd done crashed over him like ice water.
I tried to kill him.
His legs felt weak as the realization sank in. He'd been ready - more than ready - to destroy one of the most respected figures in hero history. No questions asked, no investigation, not even a moment's hesitation.
Just blind, burning rage and a desire to hurt.
What kind of hero acts like that?
The memory of that crimson-tinted clarity made his stomach turn. He could have stopped. Could have checked for vital signs, called for help, looked for evidence. Done anything other than give in to that overwhelming urge for violence.
"I..." Izuku's voice cracked. "I'm so sorry, I didn't-"
"Young Midoriya," Toshinori cut in, his voice gentle but firm. The look in his mentor's sunken eyes suggested he knew exactly where Izuku's thoughts were heading. "Perhaps we should hear Gran Torino's assessment of your combat potential?"
"The kid's got fire, I'll give him that," Gran Torino grumbled, adjusting one of his gauntlets where Izuku's last attack had connected. "But his form is atrocious. No discipline, all instinct. What kind of sloppy training have you been giving him, Toshinori?"
All Might seemed to shrink even further into himself, if that was possible. "Ah, well... you see..."
"We haven't actually started combat training yet," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
"What?!" Gran Torino's voice cracked like a whip. "You're telling me you chose a successor who can't even fight? Have you lost what little sense you had?"
The casual analysis of his fighting style, as if Izuku hadn't just tried to seriously harm him, made the guilt twist even deeper in his chest. But maybe that was the point - to move forward, to learn from this, rather than drowning in self-recrimination.
Still, the memory of that rage lingered, a reminder of what lurked behind his eyes, waiting to be unleashed again. He tried putting the thought at the back of his head, back into the deep well where his rage had come from.
"Um, excuse me?" Izuku's voice came out higher than intended, hysteria creeping in at the edges. "Can we maybe address the fact that you made me think All Might was dead?"
Heat was building behind his eyes again, but this time from embarrassment and lingering fear rather than rage. The memory of that horrible moment - seeing his mentor's body, thinking he'd lost everything - made his stomach clench.
"Ah, yes, about that..." Toshinori had the grace to look ashamed. "I apologize for the deception, young Midoriya. But I needed Gran Torino to see your Quirk in action for himself."
"My... Quirk?" The word felt strange in Izuku's mouth, especially with the lingering memory of that foreign rage still burning in his chest.
"Those eyes of yours," Gran Torino interjected, suddenly serious.
"They're not just for show, are they? Your whole fighting style changed when they activated. Started predicting movements, analyzing patterns. Could've been dangerous if you'd had any actual training to back it up."
Izuku's hand unconsciously rose to touch his face, though his eyes had long since returned to their natural green.
He knew the old hero was right - when his eyes changed, everything became sharper, clearer. But there was something else too, something that felt like it came from a deep well of red inside him. Something that whispered of power and vengeance and-
"Still," he managed, pushing those thoughts aside, "using ketchup to fake your death isn't exactly a normal teaching method!"
Toshinori's cough might have been hiding a laugh. "Perhaps not. But I needed to see how you'd react in a crisis. When faced with..." he paused, something dark passing behind his eyes.
"When faced with loss."
There was more to that statement, Izuku could tell, but before he could press further, Toshinori turned to Gran Torino.
"Well? Will you do it?"
The old hero snorted, looking Izuku up and down one more time.
"Kid's got potential. And that eye Quirk of his could be something special with the right training." He jabbed a finger at Toshinori. "But you've done him no favors letting him run wild like this. Raw talent needs discipline, structure."
"Then you'll teach him?"
"Teach me?" Izuku blinked, looking between the two pros. "Teach me what?"
Gran Torino's grin was all teeth.
"How to fight, kid. Really fight. Because whatever that was just now? That was just scratching the surface."
Izuku swallowed hard, remembering the clarity, the power, the rage that had come with his transformed vision. Part of him wanted to run from it, from what it might mean. But a deeper part, one that pulsed with the color of fresh blood, whispered that this was exactly what he needed.
To protect. To fight. To avenge.
The thought came unbidden, and Izuku wasn't entirely sure it was his own.
A WEEK LATER…
The muscles in Izuku's arms burned as he hauled another tire across the sand. Behind him, Gran Torino's voice cut through the morning air.
"Faster! You think villains will wait while you catch your breath?"
I can barely keep up with both.
Two months.
That's all the time he had left to clear this beach, and now Gran Torino's training had been added to the mix. The old hero's apartment - if you could call that decrepit building an apartment - had become Izuku's second home. Between hauling trash and learning how to throw a proper punch, sleep had become a luxury.
"Your stance is still wrong," Gran Torino barked as Izuku dropped the tire onto the growing pile. "Show me your guard position."
Izuku raised his fists, trying to remember the corrections from yesterday. His body ached from their last sparring session, but the pain felt different now. Purposeful.
This is what it takes to become stronger.
"Better," Gran Torino admitted grudgingly. "But you're still thinking too much. Fighting isn't about fancy moves or perfect form. It's about surviving."
The words struck a chord. Survival. Wasn't that what he'd been doing all these years? Surviving Bakugo's torments, surviving a world that told him he was worthless?
"Watch," Gran Torino demonstrated, his movements quick despite his age. "See how I use the wall? Everything around you is a weapon. That garbage you're cleaning? Could save your life in a real fight."
Izuku's eyes tracked the movement, though they remained stubbornly green. The clarity of his enhanced vision only came with strong emotion, something Gran Torino had noted with clear disapproval.
"You can't rely on those eyes of yours, kid. They're a tool, not a crutch."
If only even I knew what they really were.
The thought came with a familiar burn behind his eyes, but Izuku pushed it down. He'd been doing that more often lately - suppressing the rage that seemed to bubble up from somewhere deep inside him.
Something that felt older than himself.
THREE WEEKS LATER…
Days turned into weeks.
Each sunrise found Izuku at the beach, moving debris while practicing the footwork Gran Torino had drilled into him the day before. The old hero would appear without warning, testing Izuku's reflexes with surprise attacks that left him sprawled in the sand more often than not.
"Always be ready," Gran Torino would say, helping him up. "The world won't wait for you to activate those fancy eyes of yours."
The bruises became a constant companion, but so did the improvements. Izuku noticed it first in small ways - how he automatically checked sight lines when entering a room, how his body shifted to maintain balance even when tired. Gran Torino's lessons were becoming instinct.
One evening, after a particularly brutal training session, the old hero caught Izuku staring at his reflection in a broken mirror they'd just hauled off the beach.
"Something on your mind, kid?"
Izuku touched the dark circles under his eyes - still green, though the pressure behind them never truly went away anymore.
"Sometimes I wonder..." he started, then stopped.
How could he explain the foreign rage that coursed through him during their spars? The way his vision would sometimes blur with red even when he wasn't using his "Quirk"?
"I... I never properly apologized," Izuku finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
"That first day, I was ready to... I didn't even ask questions. Didn't try to understand the situation. I just-"
"You talk too much, kid." Gran Torino's voice cut through Izuku's stumbling apology like a knife. The old hero didn't even look at him, instead staring out at the beach.
"You've got a rage in you that could swallow you whole, kid. I've seen it before - raw power that burns too hot, too fast."
Something that wants to consume everything.
"The way you came at me that day?" Gran Torino continued, his voice hard. "That wasn't fighting. That was pure destruction. No thought, no control, just blind rage looking for a target."
Izuku's hands clenched at his sides, the familiar pressure building behind his eyes.
"You need to learn when to stop," Gran Torino said. "Because one day, you'll cross a line you can't come back from."
Like I almost did with you.
"Raw power like yours?" The old hero finally turned to look at him. "It doesn't care about right or wrong. Doesn't care about heroics or villainy. It just wants to burn. And if you can't learn to pull back from that edge..."
He left the sentence hanging, but Izuku understood. The memory of that crimson-tinted clarity, of the destruction he'd been ready to unleash, made his stomach turn.
"One For All changes everyone it touches," Gran Torino simply said, his words carrying a kind of burden that had seen many trials and, with Izuku here, will likely see more of them again.
"The question is whether you let it change you for better or worse."
But what if the power isn't really mine?
The thought came unbidden as Izuku stared at his reflection in the broken mirror. The eyes that looked back at him held something ancient and terrible, waiting to be unleashed again.
A MONTH LATER…
The walk to school then became a series of mental exercises. Every alley became a potential battleground, every piece of trash a possible weapon. He shadow-boxed his way through empty streets, earning strange looks from early-morning commuters.
"What's wrong with Midoriya?" he overheard one classmate whisper. "He's acting weird lately."
Bakugo watched too, his red eyes narrowing whenever Izuku practiced his footwork between classes. The explosive teen had kept his distance since their last encounter, though his glares carried promises of future violence.
Let him try.
During one particularly grueling session, Gran Torino had Izuku practicing escapes from holds. "Villains fight dirty," the old hero explained, demonstrating a particularly nasty grab.
"So should you. Bite, scratch, use their momentum against them. Honor gets you killed in a real fight."
The lesson hit home when Izuku managed to break free using a technique that would have made All Might wince. But Gran Torino just nodded approvingly.
"Good. Now do it again, but faster."
All Might visited occasionally, watching from the sidelines with an expression Izuku couldn't quite read. Pride mixed with concern, perhaps. The Symbol of Peace never stayed long during these sessions, but his presence served as a reminder of why Izuku was pushing himself so hard.
To become a hero. Not a vessel for this rage.
The days blurred together. Morning beach cleanup, afternoon combat training, evening studies. His mother worried about the bruises, but Izuku assured her it was just intense workout routines.
He wasn't entirely lying - Gran Torino's idea of training often involved creative uses for the very trash Izuku was supposed to be clearing.
"Use your head, kid!" Gran Torino would shout as Izuku dodged another lightning-fast attack. "Those eyes of yours see more than you think. Trust your instincts!"
But instinct was exactly what worried Izuku. Sometimes, in the heat of training, he'd feel that familiar burn behind his eyes. The world would start to take on a crimson tinge, and with it came thoughts that didn't feel entirely his own.
Make them hurt. Make them pay.
Those moments scared him more than any of Gran Torino's attacks. The old hero seemed to notice, too, his expression turning grave whenever Izuku's eyes began to shift.
The changes in Izuku became more noticeable as the second month progressed. His movements grew sharper, more deliberate. The timid boy who apologized for existing was being replaced by someone who understood the value of controlled violence.
One afternoon, as Izuku passed Bakugo in the hallway, their eyes met briefly. For a moment, Izuku felt the familiar pressure building behind his eyes, that deep well of red threatening to overflow. Bakugo's step faltered, just slightly, before he looked away.
Is he… scared?
The thought should have bothered him more than it did.
"Your movements are getting sharper," Gran Torino noted during their evening session. "But you're still holding back. Afraid of something?"
Izuku didn't answer. How could he explain the fire that burned inside him? The rage that felt like an inheritance he'd never asked for?
The beach was nearly clear now, but Izuku's reflection in the water showed someone different from the boy who'd started this journey. His arms were stronger, his stance more confident. But sometimes, when he looked too long, he swore his eyes flickered with something ancient and terrible.
Is this really who I want to become?
The question haunted him as he continued his training, caught between the hero he wanted to be and something else - something that whispered of power and vengeance in the depths of his soul.
Training with Gran Torino had taught him more than just how to fight. It had shown him a side of himself he wasn't sure he was ready to face. The old hero pushed him relentlessly, but Izuku sensed a purpose behind the brutal regimen that went beyond mere physical conditioning.
"Combat isn't just about the body," Gran Torino had told him one evening, as they sat catching their breath after a particularly intense session. "It's about knowing yourself. Your limits. Your darker impulses."
Izuku followed with a thought that always crept up to him whenever he looked at himself in the mirror.
My inheritance.
The thought came unbidden, accompanied by that familiar burning sensation. Izuku looked down at his hands, calloused now from months of work. They were stronger hands than before, capable of both building and destroying.
Just like the power that lurked behind his eyes.
As the deadline approached, Izuku found himself spending more time staring at his reflection, searching for signs of the person he used to be in the face that looked back at him. The changes weren't just physical - there was a new intensity in his gaze, a readiness for violence that both thrilled and terrified him.
I'm becoming someone else.
Or perhaps, whispered a voice from that deep well of red, he was becoming who he was always meant to be.
The beach was almost clear now, but Izuku's true transformation was just beginning.
A MONTH AND A HALF LATER…
The setting sun painted Takoba Beach in shades of crimson, reminding Toshinori too much of his successor's transformed eyes. He stood with Gran Torino at the edge of the sand, watching the waves lap at the shore. The beach was half-cleared now, evidence of Izuku's relentless work.
"He's making good progress," Toshinori offered into the silence.
Gran Torino didn't respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the red horizon.
"That rage of his," he finally said, "it's not natural."
Toshinori's hands clenched in the pockets of his oversized suit.
"I know."
"No, you don't."
Gran Torino's voice carried an edge Toshinori hadn't heard in years.
"I've trained heroes who've lost everything. Seen vigilantes driven by revenge. But that boy's rage?" He shook his head.
"It's different. Primal. Like something carved into his bones."
Like something inherited, Toshinori thought but didn't say.
"That's what worries me," he admitted instead. "One For All... it amplifies everything. Not just physical attributes, but emotions too. If young Midoriya can barely contain this rage now..."
"You're thinking of not giving it to him."
It wasn't a question. Toshinori's silence was answer enough.
Gran Torino snorted.
"You've gotten soft, Toshinori. Too used to your perfect society where everyone smiles because the Symbol of Peace will save them."
"What-"
"But what about the ones you can't save?" Gran Torino cut him off.
"The kids getting beaten down for being Quirkless? The people discriminated against because their Quirks make them look different? All the injustices happening right under your nose while you're busy punching villains through buildings?"
The words hit harder than any villain's attack. Toshinori thought of young Midoriya, of all the scars that had nothing to do with training.
"Your boy?" Gran Torino continued, "He's living proof. All those years of torment for being Quirkless - where was the Symbol of Peace then?"
For a while, the only sounds at Takoba Beach were the waves crashing on the shore.
"Maybe," Gran Torino's voice grew quieter, "what this world needs isn't another soft hero preaching about peace. Maybe it needs someone who understands rage. Someone who's felt the injustice firsthand."
The sun dipped lower, the crimson light deepening to blood-red. Toshinori watched the waves for a long moment before speaking.
"You think I don't know about the cracks in our society?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "The discrimination, the bullying, the quiet suffering that happens in the shadows of my smile?"
Gran Torino remained silent, waiting.
"I see them. Every day, I see them. But I also see what happens when people lose faith in peace." Toshinori's hand unconsciously moved to the wound in his side. "When they decide that violence is the answer to injustice."
"And what's your answer?" Gran Torino challenged. "Keep smiling while kids like Midoriya get beaten down?"
"My answer is to build something better!" Toshinori's voice rose with sudden passion. "To show people that peace isn't just the absence of violence - it's the presence of justice. Real justice, not just for the ones in the spotlight."
"Pretty words," Gran Torino scoffed. "But how many more Midoriyas will suffer while you're building this perfect world?"
Toshinori deflated slightly.
"That's exactly why I chose him, you know. Not because of his rage, but because despite everything he's endured, he still wants to save people. Still believes in heroes."
"And if that belief breaks? If that rage finally consumes him?"
The question hung in the air like smoke. Toshinori watched another piece of debris wash up on the shore, thinking of the burden he was preparing to pass on.
"I have to believe," he said finally, "that what I've built isn't so fragile that it needs to be rebuilt on the foundation of a young boy's rage. That the peace I've worked for won't end up being another weight for Midoriya to carry."
Gran Torino made a sound that might have been disappointment or understanding.
"And if you're wrong?"
Toshinori looked up at the darkening sky, where the last traces of red were fading to purple.
"Then I pray he forgives me for failing to build a world where his rage wasn't necessary."
The words settled between them like a prophecy neither wanted to see fulfilled.
In the distance, the sound of waves continued their endless cycle, indifferent to the weight of legacy and responsibility being discussed on their shores.
A MONTH AND THREE WEEKS LATER…
Days blurred together at Takoba Municipal Beach Park. The morning sun painted the gradually clearing shoreline in gold as Izuku heaved another tire onto the growing pile in his truck. Gran Torino watched from atop a nearby refrigerator, his expression unreadable behind his mask.
The beach was almost clean now. What had once been a dumpsite was slowly revealing pristine sand underneath, like uncovering a forgotten treasure. Izuku paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, his muscles aching in a way that had become familiar over the months of training.
*Almost there. Just a little more.*
"Your form's still sloppy," Gran Torino commented, hopping down with an agility that belied his age. "But at least you're putting your back into it properly now."
Izuku managed a tired smile. The old hero's criticism had become almost comforting in its consistency. "Thank you, sir."
"Don't thank me yet, kid. Let's see how you handle a morning run."
They set off along their usual route, weaving through the quieter streets of Musutafu. Izuku's breathing was steadier now, his endurance built up through countless similar morning exercises. Gran Torino kept pace beside him, occasionally correcting his form with a sharp word or a quick tap from his cane.
The sound reached them first - the dull thud of something hitting flesh, followed by muffled crying. Izuku's steps faltered as they passed an alley, his enhanced hearing picking up the unmistakable sounds of a fight.
No, not a fight. A beating.
Through the shadows, he could make out several larger figures surrounding a smaller one. A middle school student, by the look of his uniform, cowering as the others took turns shoving him around.
Just like back then.
The thought came with a rush of memories - Bakugo's sneering face, the feeling of being helpless, of being alone. Of watching others turn away, pretending not to see.
Before Gran Torino could speak, Izuku was moving. His body acted before his mind could catch up, just like that day with the Sludge Villain. Fear gripped his chest - what was he doing? These weren't training dummies or piles of trash. This was real.
But so was every hit I took when no one helped me.
"Stop!" Izuku's voice carried more authority than he felt as he stepped between the bullies and their victim. "Leave him alone."
The leader of the group, a tall boy with spikes protruding from his knuckles, turned with an amused smirk that made Izuku's blood boil.
"Oh? And who's gonna make us? This little shit owes us his lunch money. Been dodging us all week."
Another punch flew toward the cowering student. Without hesitation, Izuku caught it on his forearm, the impact sending sharp pain through his body. The moment brought him back to that first night with Gran Torino, when he'd thought All Might was dead. How his instincts had taken over, how clarity had come through the fear and rage.
"This is your last chance," Izuku said quietly, his voice dropping lower. "Walk away."
The leader laughed, a harsh sound that echoed off the alley walls. "Get him!"
Well, at least I asked first.
His training kicked in as the first bully charged. Just like that night with Gran Torino, Izuku used the environment to his advantage. A trash can became a barrier, forcing one attacker to stumble. A loose piece of cardboard caught another in the face, disrupting his balance.
Each movement flowed from his training, but this wasn't practice anymore. This was real, messy, and raw. He slipped past wild swings, redirected momentum into walls, just as he'd learned. One bully went down with a sweep to the legs, another backed away after a precise strike to the solar plexus.
The leader watched his cronies fall with growing rage.
"You little shit!" He charged, spikes gleaming.
Something in Izuku snapped. The familiar pressure built behind his eyes, but this time it came with a wave of hatred that felt ancient and terrible. His vision bled crimson as memories flooded back - not just of Bakugo now, but of every bully who'd ever made someone feel small, feel worthless.
Make them pay. Make them all pay.
The counter-strike was devastating. Izuku caught the leader's spiked fist and twisted, using the boy's own momentum to slam him into the ground. Before anyone could react, Izuku was on top of him, fist raised and eyes blazing red. The first punch connected with satisfying force. Then another. And another.
More. They deserve more.
"Young man."
Gran Torino's voice cut through the haze like a blade. "What would All Might do?"
Izuku froze, his raised fist trembling. Behind him, the student he'd saved whimpered, pressing himself further into the corner. The sound broke through something in Izuku's chest, dousing the rage like cold water on hot coals.
The remaining bullies took advantage of his hesitation to grab their fallen leader and flee, but Izuku barely noticed. He was already turning, kneeling before the frightened student, his eyes fading back to their natural green.
"Hey," he said softly, remembering all the times he'd wished someone had been there for him. "It's okay now. They're gone."
The boy looked up, tears streaming down his face.
"W-why did you help me?"
"Because..." Izuku paused, thinking of what All Might would say. But while his mentor's words would be perfect, inspiring, Izuku had his own truth to share. "Because I know what it's like. To be afraid. To feel alone."
He reached out a hand, helping the boy to his feet. "But you don't have to be. Report them - to your teachers, to the police. And..." he thought of his own journey, of the strength he was slowly building.
"Learn to protect yourself. Not to hurt others, but to be strong enough that they can't hurt you anymore."
"Like... like All Might?" the boy asked, hope beginning to replace fear in his eyes.
Izuku smiled, but it was tinged with something older and sadder.
"Like anyone who decides they're done being afraid."
He didn't see Gran Torino's proud smile, or the way the old hero nodded to himself. He was too focused on making sure the boy got home safely, on being the hero he'd needed when he was younger.
I couldn't save myself back then. But I can save others now.
The thought felt right, even as something deep inside him whispered of darker ways to deal with bullies.
For now, at least, he knew he'd made the right choice.
TWO MONTHS LATER…
The last refrigerator groaned as Izuku dragged it across the sand. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored them, focused only on this final piece. The rising sun painted the newly revealed beach in shades of gold and pink, reflecting off waves that now lapped at pristine sand instead of rusted metal.
Almost... there...
With one final heave, Izuku lifted the refrigerator onto the pile. For a moment, he just stood there, chest heaving, staring at what he'd accomplished. Then he turned, taking in the full expanse of Takoba Municipal Beach Park.
Clean.
Actually clean.
Every scrap of metal, every tire, every broken appliance - gone. The morning light sparkled off untouched sand, the ocean breeze carrying only the scent of salt water instead of rust and decay. Months of work, of pain, of early mornings and late nights, had transformed this place back to what it was meant to be.
I did this. All of it.
The pride welled up in his chest until he couldn't contain it anymore. Izuku threw his head back and screamed, a sound of pure joy and triumph that echoed across the water. His voice cracked, but he didn't care. This moment was his.
"Well done, kid." Gran Torino's voice carried from behind him. The old hero stood with Toshinori at the edge of the parking lot, both of them watching with unmistakable pride.
Izuku jogged over to them, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the rush of achievement. Gran Torino was pulling something from a small cooler - bottles?
"Is that... beer?" Toshinori asked, his skeletal face creasing with concern.
"The kid just cleaned an entire beach by himself," Gran Torino snorted, pulling out three bottles. "I'd say he's earned it."
He turned to Izuku. "Ever had a drink before?"
Izuku shook his head, suddenly nervous. "N-no, sir."
"Then this'll be your first. A proper celebration." Gran Torino looked at Toshinori. "Give him some slack. He's not going to turn into a delinquent from one beer."
Izuku looked at his mentor hopefully. "I did finish the cleanup..."
Toshinori sighed, but there was a fond smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "One drink. And stop if you feel strange, understood?"
"Yes sir!"
They settled on the clean sand, the bottles clicking together in a toast that made Izuku's heart swell. The beer was bitter and strange on his tongue, but sitting here with his mentors, watching the sunrise over his accomplishment - it felt right.
"You've grown, kid," Gran Torino said after a while, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Not just in strength. I've watched you learn to channel that fire inside you, to use it for good instead of letting it consume you. Those are lessons some never learn."
Something in his tone made Izuku's heart skip. He stared into his bottle, watching the amber liquid swirl as memories washed over him - the burning rage when he thought All Might was dead, the dark satisfaction when he'd finally landed a hit on Gran Torino, the violent urge to keep punching that bully in the alley.
Have I really learned to control it?
The question haunted him.
That ancient force inside him, the one that seemed to pulse with the color of fresh blood, had only grown stronger with his training.
Yes, he'd learned to channel it, to use it in defense of others instead of pure vengeance. But sometimes, in quiet moments like this, he could feel it stirring - a deep well of power and hatred that felt older than himself.
His free hand unconsciously touched the space beneath his eyes, remembering how they changed, how the world sharpened and bled red when that power surfaced. Gran Torino had taught him to use that clarity, that enhanced perception, but the rage that came with it... that was something else entirely.
What happens when I get One For All? Will it make that force stronger? Weaker?
"Indeed," Toshinori added, setting his barely-touched beer aside. "You've proven yourself ready, young Midoriya. In more ways than one."
The atmosphere shifted, the celebration giving way to something more solemn. Gran Torino nodded slowly.
"It's time."
"Time?" Izuku asked, though something deep inside him already knew.
That same something that whispered of power and vengeance now seemed to coil in anticipation, like a predator sensing prey.
Toshinori straightened, and for a moment Izuku could see the shadow of All Might in his gaunt frame.
"Time to pass on One For All."
The waves crashed against the shore, marking the moment. Izuku's hand tightened around his bottle, his heart thundering in his chest. This was it. The moment everything had been leading to. But beneath his excitement, a thread of fear wound its way through his thoughts.
He'd learned to temper his rage, yes. To direct it towards protection instead of destruction. But something told him his greatest test was still to come. That ancient force inside him, with its crimson dreams and burning hatred, wouldn't be so easily tamed.
To protect. To fight. To save.
The thought came as it always did, but this time it didn't feel foreign.
This time, it felt like a promise.
"A rite of passage," Toshinori's words echoed in Izuku's mind. All this time, cleaning the beach wasn't just training - it was preparation for this moment.
"What... what do I have to do?" Izuku asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You have to eat this."
Toshinori pulled out a small ziplock bag from his pocket. Inside was a single strand of golden hair.
The tension broke as Izuku blinked, his expression turning incredulous.
"Your... hair?"
"One For All is passed down through DNA," Toshinori explained, his tone serious despite the absurdity. "A willing heir must consume a piece of the previous holder."
Izuku stared at the tiny bag Toshinori held out to him. Such a small thing, to contain so much power. All Might's power. The power to save others, to be a true hero.
Take it. Use it. Make them pay.
The voice from that deep well of crimson stirred, eager in a way that made Izuku's stomach clench. He took the bag with trembling fingers as Toshinori spoke again:
"Whenever you're ready."
Ready.
Am I?
Izuku's mind raced through everything that had led him here. The years of torment at Bakugo's hands. The moments he'd wanted to fight back but couldn't. But also - the student he'd saved in the alley, the pride in becoming stronger, the drive to protect others from suffering as he had.
How much of a hero do I really want to be?
Only one way to find out.
(ALL MIGHT'S POV)
The hair went down easily enough.
For a moment, nothing happened. Izuku could feel Gran Torino and Toshinori watching him expectantly, their disappointment almost palpable when nothing grand occurred.
"This is normal," Toshinori assured him. "I had no reaction at first either. The power will come when you need it most, when your desire to protect others is strongest."
No reaction. That was good. That was normal.
Izuku closed his eyes, taking inventory of himself. His body felt the same. His emotions steady. Even that deep well of red that usually churned with ancient rage seemed quiet.
Then he saw them - eight points of light shimmering in the darkness of his mind.
White, blue, red, green, orange, purple, pink, yellow - a rainbow of power that filled him with inexplicable peace. He watched, fascinated, as a piece of himself manifested as green light, reaching out to join this constellation of power.
But as his green light approached, something else stirred in the darkness. From that deep well of crimson came another light, ancient and dark and red like blood, pulsing with the weight of centuries.
It rose beside his green light like a shadow given form, and for a moment, they orbited each other - two aspects of the same soul, light and dark, new power and ancient force.
The crimson light seemed to recoil at first, as if rejecting the very presence of the colors. It twisted away from the other lights, trying to pull Izuku's green light with it. The crimson had paused as soon as it saw the other lights begin shining light that could only make Izuku feel as though he's swimming in an eternal sea of peace.
And then, all of a sudden, the crimson light turned that sea into a torrent of blood that started to boil in the hot fires of… not rage, but excitement. It's as though the crimson light recognized the power in that eternal sea and the lights contained within it.
Izuku could sense a hunger awakening in the crimson light. Its desire to consume. To control.
The two lights began to shake violently, locked in a battle for dominance. Izuku's green light tried to join the others, but the crimson force wrapped around it like chains of blood. The other lights seemed to pulse in warning, trying to repel the ancient presence that sought to corrupt their power.
Pain exploded through Izuku's body, the spiritual battle manifesting in physical agony. Every nerve felt like it was being seared with electricity. His eyes burned as if they were being torn apart from within, the crimson vision forced upon him rather than called. He felt himself hit the sand, his body convulsing as the two powers warred inside him.
Too much. It's too much.
His mind became a battlefield as One For All and the ancient force clashed within him. Each pulse of power sent fresh waves of agony through his body. His bones felt like they were trying to tear themselves apart, his blood burning in his veins.
Someone was screaming - it might have been him.
Through the haze of agony, he saw Gran Torino and Toshinori kneeling beside him, their mouths moving in words he couldn't hear. His gaze locked with his mentor's, seeing his own reflection in Toshinori's horrified blue eyes.
There, in that reflection, Izuku saw his face overlaid with another - something ancient and terrible, with eyes that promised vengeance.
No reaction is good, Toshinori had said just seconds before.
But as darkness claimed him, Izuku knew with terrifying certainty that nothing about this was good at all.