The green static was just beginning to crawl up Izuku's arm when a soft chime interrupted the moment. His phone was ringing.
He paused, the glow fading from his fingers. For a moment, the mask of the glitch god slipped, replaced by something almost... human. He pulled the phone from his pocket and looked at the screen. His expression softened.
"One moment," he said to the trembling figure on the table, as if excusing himself from a mundane task. "Daddy has to take this."
He turned away, walking a few steps toward the window, and answered the call. "Hello, my little star."
Kazuki gasped on the table, Nana's body heaving for air that wouldn't come. Through the fog of pain, he heard a small, excited voice crackle through the speaker.
"Daddy! Daddy! Guess what? We went from America back to Japan in just ONE second! It was so fast! Like 'whoosh' and then we were here!" A child's laughter, bright and joyful, filled the room. "Did you build that, Daddy? Did you make the whoosh thing?"
Izuku's laugh was warm, genuine—nothing like the cold sounds he had made while torturing his brother. "Of course I did. My Eri was getting bored of the same old toys, so I made something my daughter would love. Did you enjoy it?"
"YES!" The word was practically a scream of delight. "It was the bestest thing ever! Can I play with you, Daddy? Can you come home soon? I miss you!"
"I'll be home as soon as possible, my love." Izuku's voice was gentle, patient. "Daddy has some work to finish first."
He turned back toward the table, walking slowly. Nana's body lay there, trembling, blood still wet on her skin from the last healing. The eyes—Nana's eyes, Kazuki's consciousness, seven trapped souls—watched him approach with terror.
Izuku held up the phone, angling it so the camera faced the table. On the screen, a small face appeared—a little girl with silver hair and red eyes, her expression curious and innocent.
"You see this lady?" Izuku said, pointing at Nana's form. "She's been a bad girl for a while. And you know Daddy doesn't like bad girls, right?"
Eri's face scrunched up in thought. "Bad girls get scolded?"
"That's right." Izuku smiled. "So I'm going to teach the bad girl to be a good girl. Then I'll come home."
Through the phone, Eri's voice piped up, clear and serious. "You should be a good girl! Being a good girl is better! I'm a good girl and Daddy loves me lots and doesn't scold me at all!"
Inside the merged consciousness, seven souls experienced something beyond horror.
This child—this innocent, loving child—was being raised by the monster who had just spent an hour torturing them. And she adored him. She called him Daddy. She was 'happy'.
The contrast was unbearable.
Nana, who had raised a son, who had loved children, who had believed in protecting the innocent, felt her soul twist at the sound of Eri's voice. That child had no idea. No idea what the man she said she loved and called him daddy was capable of. No idea that the same hands that held the phone for her had just been covered in blood.
Yoichi thought of his brother, of how All For One had once been human, once capable of love. 'Was this how it started? Was this the beginning of another monster?'
The second user's rage found no target. What could he do with this? How could he hate a child?
En, who had taught Nana about sacrifice, about protecting the innocent, felt his ancient heart crack. They couldn't even warn her. Couldn't scream that the man she called Daddy was a god of destruction wearing a human face.
Izuku brought the phone back to his face, his expression soft. "Daddy will be home soon, darling. Until then, make sure to do exactly what Mother Rei and the others say, okay? Be a good girl for them."
"I will, Daddy! I promise!"
"And if you do," Izuku's voice took on a playful tone, "I'll give you anything you want. Anything at all."
Eri's eyes went wide with excitement. "ANYTHING? I can get ANYTHING from Daddy?"
"Anything."
She bounced on the spot, thinking hard. Then, with the pure, unfiltered honesty of a six-year-old, she asked: "Can we have ice cream together when you come home? With the sprinkles that rainbow? And can you read me a story? The one about the bunny who saves all his friends? And can we—"
Izuku laughed, and it was the most genuine sound he had made all night. "Yes, yes, and yes. We'll have the biggest ice cream in the world, and I'll read you every story ever written."
"YAY!" Eri's squeal of joy was so loud it distorted the speaker.
The phone was passed to someone else. Maki's face appeared, her expression shifting from the warmth she showed Eri to something harder, more focused.
"When are we starting?" she asked, no preamble.
Izuku's smile faded into something serious. "Very soon. Let Momo know she's getting her revenge soon. And tell her to decide exactly how she wants it—every detail. I'll make it happen."
Maki nodded. "She's been waiting for a long time for this."
"I know." Izuku's eyes flicked toward the table, toward the trembling form of Nana's body. "I'll call you soon. My brother is... dying to finish what I started."
He said the words with a slight smirk, and Maki caught the double meaning. She snorted.
"Don't take too long. The girls are getting restless without you. Especially Eri, she wants to tell you everything she did in America as soon as possible, don't waste much time on that idiot when you are going to kill him anyways. Stop playing with your toy."
The call ended. Izuku pocketed the phone and walked back to the table. He reached into his pocket again and pulled out his actual wallet, flipping it open to reveal a photo tucked inside.
He held it up for the trapped souls to see.
The photo showed a family scene. Rei and Fuyumi stood together, both smiling softly. Kaina leaned against a wall, her expression relaxed in a way it never had been when she was Lady Nagant. Maki stood with her arms crossed, a cocky grin on her face. Momo was there too, elegant and warm, her hand resting on—
On Eri. The little girl sat on Izuku's shoulders, her small hands gripping his hair, her face split in a massive, joyful grin. Izuku himself stood at the center, surrounded by all of them, and he was 'smiling'. Not the cold smile of the glitch god. Not the too-wide grin of the psychopath. A real smile. Warm. Protective. 'Human'.
"This," Izuku said quietly, "is my family."
He pointed at Eri's tiny face in the photo.
"You see her? She's barely seven years old. You're begging for mercy after just a few hours of what I've done to you." His voice hardened. "Eri here suffered constantly for 'months' when she was only six. Experimented on. Cut open. Her blood drained and replaced again and again. Her quirk forced to activate over and over while they tested its limits."
He let that sink in.
"When she died—and she died many times—they resurrected her like fixing a broken toy being patched up over and over again. And the same process repeated for god knows how many months, if not years. Every. Single. Day. For months. When she was just 'six'."
He looked at them, his eyes cold.
"What were you doing? What was the great Symbol of Peace doing while a six-year-old was being tortured to death and traumatized for life on repeat? Does lack of intelligence make an excuse to forget? To not know? Or maybe the heroes were in it all together and no one never said anything because she wasn't theirs."
His finger moved to another face in the photo—a blurry figure in the background that none of them had noticed before.
"All Might's own sidekick. His trusted partner. He had intel on Eri's situation. He knew about the experiments. And he did 'nothing'. Not a thing. Just filed it away and went back to smiling for the cameras, giving himself the excuse that we cannot infiltrate or attack now because we don't have enough evidence.
A child was suffering so much and they didn't do anything. Why? Just because they didn't have enough evidence to act on it."
Inside the merged consciousness, the accusation landed like a bomb.
Yoichi looked at Nana. Her student. Her legacy. Toshinori, who was supposed to be the Symbol of Peace, whose sidekick had known about a child's torture and done nothing.
Nana felt the weight of that look. Her soul, already fractured, cracked further.
Izuku moved his finger to Maki's image.
"This woman. Her family hated her. Ostracized her. Threw her out like garbage. Why? Because she got a quirk that 'looked' villainous. Not because she did anything wrong. Not because she hurt anyone.
Just because of how her power 'looked'. And where were the heroes? Where was the system that was supposed to protect people? Nowhere. They were too busy polishing their rankings."
His finger shifted to Momo.
"Her parents were killed right in front of her. Murdered. She watched them die. And the heroes? They took statements. Filed reports. Moved on. No justice. No closure. Just another case file gathering dust."
Then to Rei and Fuyumi.
"These two women. They suffered directly because of your dear student. Your successor." His voice dripped with venom. "Toshinori's existence, his rise, his 'symbol', created the environment where Endeavor—the number two hero—decided he needed to breed the perfect child to surpass him."
He pointed at Rei.
"He married her for her quirk. Treated her like livestock. Domestic abuse—physical, emotional, constant. And when she finally broke—when she couldn't handle looking at her own son because he reminded her of her abuser, when she poured hot water on his face in a moment of complete mental collapse—what did the system do?"
His finger traced to Fuyumi.
"They threw Rei in a mental hospital. Locked her away. And this girl—this child—had to hold her family together with her bare hands making sure her family didn't break completely all while her father raged and her mother was imprisoned and her brothers fell apart. She was a 'child' having to be an adult because the heroes did NOTHING."
Inside, the silence was absolute.
En, who had taught Nana about protecting the innocent, felt his teachings curdle. 'Where was the protection? Where was the justice?'
Hikage, who had hidden for eighteen years, who knew what it meant to be failed by the system, felt old wounds reopen. This was what they had built? This was what he died for?
Banjo's Blackwhip writhed with shame. He had been a hero. He had believed in the system. And it had failed everyone.
The third user's kindness curdled into something bitter. All that sacrifice. All that fighting. For 'this'.
And finally, Izuku's finger moved to Kaina.
"This woman. Lady Nagant, you might know her. The Hero Commission turned her into a killing machine. Told her to eliminate threats—not to the country, but to 'themselves'.
Anyone who might expose their corruption. Anyone who might ask too many questions. She killed for them. She became a monster for them. And when she was no longer useful? They threw her away too. And tried to assassinate her."
He looked at them, his eyes burning.
"So tell me. All of you. Where were you? Where was All Might? Where were the other heroes when all of 'them' were suffering? When a six-year-old was being tortured to death on repeat?
When a mother daughter duo were being abused by the number two hero? When a girl was being turned into an assassin? When a girl was called a monster just for her quirk? When a girl had to watch her parents die right in front of her?"
He leaned close to Nana's face.
"You were 'dead', Nana. You passed your torch and you died, and you left the world to rot. You trusted Toshinori to carry your dream, and he couldn't even see the rot right under his nose. His own sidekick knew about Eri. 'Knew'. And did nothing."
Nana had no defense. None. Every word was true.
"This world was corrupted from the start," Izuku said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Built on lies and suffering and children's bones. I'm not destroying something good. I'm 'cleaning house'. I'm going to tear down everything they built, everything you built, everything the heroes built—will fall and from the ashes of your world I'm going to build something better."
He gestured at the photo again, at the women surrounding him.
"A world where all of 'them' can live freely. Without fear. Without abuse. Without being used. A world where Eri never has to be afraid again. Where Rei never has to flinch at a raised voice.
Where Fuyumi can finally rest. Where Maki is accepted for who she is. Where Momo gets the justice she was denied. Where Kaina can stop running away from people who want to kill her."
He looked back at Nana's face.
"And you? All of you? You're going to 'suffer'. You're going to carry the burden of every pain they endured. Every scream Eri let out in that lab. Every bruise on Rei's skin. Every tear Fuyumi cried alone in her room. Every kill Kaina was forced to make. Every moment of Momo's grief. Every ounce of Maki's isolation."
He straightened up.
"No matter how much you beg. No matter how much you plead. You'll feel it all. Forever. That's your punishment. That's your 'purpose'. To know, eternally, what the world you built cost the innocent people that had nothing to do with it and just wanted to live freely."
Inside the merged consciousness, there was nothing left but horror.
Yoichi, who had hoped for redemption, felt hope die.
The second user, who had fought for freedom, saw the cost of failure.
The third user, who had been kind, felt kindness become a curse.
Hikage, who had hidden, realized hiding was just another form of complicity.
Banjo, who had loved being a hero, saw the truth behind the cape.
En, who had taught sacrifice, understood that some sacrifices were demanded, not given.
And Nana—Nana, whose torch had lit the way for generations—Nana finally understood.
She had not saved the world. She had only delayed its reckoning.
And now, that reckoning wore her face, screamed with her voice, and suffered in her body.
Izuku pocketed the phone, his expression shifting back to the cold mask of the glitch god.
"Now," he said, green static crawling up his arm again, "where were we? Ah, yes. I believe I was about to show you another form. Something... 'creative'."
Kazuki screamed in Nana's voice.
The transformation began again.
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