Sam was barely clinging to consciousness.
Luck—if it could even be called that—saved him from immediate capture. In his delirium, his hands found a manhole cover. He wrenched it open and fell into darkness.
Cold water. Filth. Concrete.
The sewer swallowed him whole.
If… if I don't… heal…
I'll die… in minutes…
With trembling hands, Sam clawed open his bag and pulled out the first-aid kit.
Good news: Endeavor's flames had cauterized the shoulder wound.
Bad news: he was burned, bleeding, and standing knee-deep in bacteria.
Infection will kill me.
Sam bit down on his knuckle and poured the alcohol over his burns.
White-hot pain tore through him.
His vision went black.
Instinct dragged him back.
He cleaned the wounds as best he could, wrapping bandages until he ran out.
"Shit…"
He tore the remnants of his plaid shirt into strips and wrapped himself tighter.
Construction site… forest… there's a manhole there…
He forced himself up.
Every step felt like it might be his last.
Hours passed in a blur of pain and fading consciousness. Sweat soaked his hair. His skin turned pale and clammy.
Finally—
A ladder.
Sam climbed.
Each rung sent agony screaming through his body.
He shoved the heavy cover aside and collapsed onto the surface, gasping.
"I'm scared," he whispered. "So scared…"
Africa bled into Japan. Concrete became dirt. Sirens became gunfire.
I promised her…
He stood.
Ahead—
The construction site.
And beyond it—
The forest.
Salvation.
"Almost… there…"
Then—
"I AM HERE!!!"
Sam froze.
A massive shadow fell over him.
All Might landed.
The crowd erupted instantly.
"It's All Might!"
"He's here!"
"It's over now!"
"Way to go, All Might!"
Dread flooded Sam's chest.
"IT'S OVER, YOUNG SAMUEL! IT'S TIME TO GIVE UP!"
Something inside Sam snapped.
"Hahahaha…"
The laugh crawled out of him—broken, sharp, wrong.
"Hahaha… HAHAHAHA!!"
People recoiled.
Even the news helicopter hovering above tilted slightly, the camera zooming in.
"Wipe that fucking smile off your face," Sam screamed, voice cracking, "you mother-fucking piece of shit!"
All Might flinched.
"I understand you're angry," he said carefully, "but this isn't the—"
"The way?" Sam spat. "Then what is the way? Lying to all these bastards watching?!"
The helicopter blades thundered overhead.
"You're a liar, All Might," Sam continued, blood spilling from his lips. "A fraud."
Silence fell.
"You call yourself the Symbol of Peace," Sam rasped, "without knowing a damn thing about the world outside this bubble. Sure—Japan looks fine. Clean. Safe."
His hands shook violently.
"But all you do is punch villains! That's it! No change! No progress!"
Sam staggered forward.
"You could've gone to schools. You could've stood in front of kids and told them not to bully the quirkless. You could've advocated for us."
His eyes burned.
"Why don't you fight for quirkless rights? Why don't you tear apart the corrupt maggots rotting inside the HPSC?"
He laughed weakly.
"I'll tell you why."
He pointed at All Might.
"Because you don't see us."
Sam coughed violently.
"I spent years in Africa," he whispered. "Years. Just trying to survive."
His voice broke.
"I saw kids… little kids… wearing shirts with your smiling face. Saying 'I am here.' Saying 'Symbol of Peace.'"
Tears streamed down his face.
"And those same kids… were riddled with bullet holes."
A collective gasp rippled across the nation.
"Wearing a shirt that says 'Symbol of Peace' while being gunned down by warlords who thrive on suffering."
All Might's smile vanished.
His eyes widened.
Shock.
Then horror.
Then something like fear.
He's right.
What have I been doing…?
Sam stumbled forward until he stood directly in front of him.
"Why…" Sam sobbed. "Why…?"
He began punching All Might's chest—weak, desperate, meaningless blows.
"Why… why… why!"
All Might dropped to one knee to meet his height, tears streaming freely.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm so sorry."
He reached out.
"Please… come with me. I'll make sure you're healed. You don't have to suffer anymore."
There was a pause.
Long.
Heavy.
The world held its breath.
Sam stared at him.
Then—
"Liar."
In one fluid motion, Sam shoved a smoke grenade into All Might's mouth and pulled the pin.
"GAAAH—!!"
All Might collapsed, coughing violently as smoke poured from his nose and mouth.
The crowd screamed.
"ALL MIGHT!!"
Sam raised a pistol with shaking hands.
"Die…"
"SAM!!"
The shout tore through the chaos like a gunshot.
Sam froze.
"STAND DOWN, SAM!!"
He turned.
Lieutenant Donald Simmons pushed through the crowd, uniform dusty, eyes locked on him.
"You don't want to do this!" Simmons yelled. "This isn't you!"
"Lieutenant…" Sam sobbed.
"You're right," Simmons said firmly. "The world's broken. It's unfair. It's cruel."
He stepped closer.
"But you're not in Africa anymore."
Sam screamed and clutched his head.
"I can't escape it!" he cried. "I can't walk down the street without being judged! They look at me and see a monster!"
He shook violently.
"A scarred, dangerous monster! That's all they see! Even now—they call me a villain!"
He collapsed to his knees.
"I can't do this anymore! I can't—!"
Simmons rushed forward and pulled Sam into his arms.
Sam clung to him like a drowning man, sobbing uncontrollably.
Eventually, his body gave out.
Simmons lifted him carefully.
"I NEED MEDICAL—NOW!"
Sirens wailed closer.
All Might coughed himself upright, eyes hollow, smoke still drifting from his lungs.
No one cheered.
No one filmed.
How could they?