“Show the world your pathetic form, ‘Symbol of Peace’.”

  All for One’s tone drips with badly suppressed glee, and he raises his arms like a magician showing an audience their special trick. Even the outlines of his eye sockets seem to grin. “Hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. What a pitiful display for the so-called Number One!”

  All Might’s form deflates like a popped balloon, and Toshinori Yagi is left in his place. The remains of his hero costume flap loosely like oversized rags on a scarecrow as steam rises from quivering arms and bloodied fists.

  Toshinori is afraid.

  The greatest villain, his worst nemesis, is before him, and all he has is the fading embers of a quirk that he’s already passed on. He can’t even take a single breath without hacking up blood. Here he is, six years past his prime, missing a stomach and half his lungs, yet he still stands.

  There’s a civilian behind him.

  It’s a young woman with brown hair, caked in dust and caught beneath the wall of a collapsing building. Maybe she wasn’t able to evacuate in time. Maybe there was an accident and she was left behind. It doesn’t matter.

  He is here, and the day he lets someone die in front of him is the day he dies too.

  Today is not that day. It can’t be. Toshinori doesn’t care if this is the day Mirai foresaw six years ago. He doesn’t care if he’s only got a single punch left in him.

  He still has too much to do. He needs to be a mentor to Young Midoriya. He needs to teach the students at UA. He needs to apologize to Mirai for being a stubborn fool. Selfless or selfish, big or small. There are still things he needs to do.

  It’s hard.

  The dim rumble of the news helicopter in the background tells him that his current appearance is being broadcast across Japan. Millions of people see the weak verity behind the invincible facade, see Toshinori Yagi instead of All Might. It feels as if the sky itself is bearing down on him, trying to push him into the ground, telling him to give up. What can he even do? With the amount of power remaining in him, he might be able to use his muscle form on a single arm.

  One arm. That’s all he has to beat his sworn enemy.

  Of course, All for One senses his weakness. “You know, Tomura Shigaraki is Nana Shimura’s grandson. Your master’s grandson.”

  “It’s a lie.” Denial.

  “It’s the truth.” And Toshinori knows the man isn’t lying, if only because this truth is so much more entertaining than a lie.

  He screams into the night, raw despair scorching his throat and burning his lungs. The story of All Might is one of victory and justice. The story of Toshinori Yagi is one of failure. He failed his master— he didn’t defeat All for One. He failed Young Midoriya that day on the roof, crushed his dreams.

  And now he’s failed his master’s family as well.

  “Where’s your smile, All Might?”

  In the city square.

  All Might’s gaunt face is plastered across giant TVs and billboards on the sides of high-rise buildings. The news commentators are in shock, and so is the crowd of people who have gathered in the plaza— no one ever expected the Symbol of Peace to be a skinny stick of a man who looks as if the slightest bit of wind will fold him in half.

  Izuku Midoriya has never been so afraid in his life.

  Not when the Sludge Villain was suffocating him and he thought he would die.

  Not when he saw the beginnings of a warp gate forming in the USJ and watched Aizawa-sensei face down forty villains.

  Not even when he realized Kacchan had been kidnapped by the League, or when he felt All for One’s aura.

  It starts as one whisper.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Uh…Why’s All Might so thin?”

  Becomes ten.

  “Are you all seeing this?”

  A hundred.

  “All Might… shrank?!”

  “If even All Might can’t win, who can?”

  In an instant, fear grips the panic-stricken audience, sweeping through them like a wildfire hungrily leaping from person to person. Izuku thinks he might choke on the dread creeping up his throat and stifling his breath. It’s a cacophony of babbles, of questions and frantic reassurances.

  Then the atmosphere transforms. People look at their Symbol of Peace, who has always given them hope in the darkest situations.

  “All Might, you’ve always been able to save us somehow.”

  “You can do it!”

  It’s a collective shout.

  “WIN!”

  Izuku curses the weakness he thought he left behind the day he got into UA. If he were a better successor, if he were stronger, if he could use One for All to its full potential…A thousand ifs. The only thing he can do now is cheer his heart out and hope his voice reaches All Might, one way or another.

  With tears in his eyes, Izuku Midoriya shouts.

  “ALL MIGHT, YOU—”

  Katsuki Bakugo had always been assured of his own superiority. Even in the deepest recesses of his mind, where he acknowledged that he wasn’t on All Might’s level yet, he never doubted for a second that he would reach it in the future.

  Watching All Might reveal his true form on the screen, he grits his teeth and clenches his fist as sparks flicker in the palm of his hand.

  All Might is Number One. That’s an immutable fact.

  The Number One never loses. That’s another fact.

  All Might always wins, and this time will be no different.

  So why is he afraid?

  Why does sweat roll down his neck, as if he were uncertain?

  All Might will win, right?

  In the corner of his eye, he sees the shitty nerd bawling his eyes out as he cheers All Might on.

  Katsuki Bakugo roars out, miniature explosions igniting and vaporizing his sweat.

  “ALL MIGHT, YOU—”

  “—CAN’T LOSE!”

  “—HAVE TO WIN!”

  “You have to smile to show you’re okay. Because in this world, the ones who are smiling are the strongest.”

  Toshinori apologizes to his master. The smile which came so easily to him in his persona as All Might is nowhere to be found.

  He stares at All for One, who has done nothing, content to gloat and watch as Toshinori crumbles. His gaze traces the contours of the villain’s tailored black suit, the respiratory mask on his face, and meets the gaping outlines of sockets where All for One’s eyes once were.

  His gut aches in pain, sharp as the spike that gouged out his flesh six years ago.

  Then a trembling voice reminds him of why he’s fighting.

  “All Might… help...”

  He’s a hero.

  “Of course, miss.”

  And suddenly that smile comes a little bit easier.

  Toshinori’s right arm swells, becoming the muscular form so familiar to All Might’s fans. Lightning, the same color as his blonde hair, crackles as One for All empowers him.

  That girl’s voice tells him what he needs to hear.

  Toshinori, no matter what you look like…you are still everyone’s Number One Hero!

  “That’s why…I won’t lose!”

  All for One’s right arm bulges as well. Jagged rivets of metal and spiraling spikes of bone sprout from underneath the skin, turning it into a limb larger than his entire body, fit for an apocalyptic horror movie.

  Their fists collide in midair. An omnidirectional shockwave erupts from the epicenter, tearing up what remains of the concrete buildings and discharging a storm of dust and debris high into the air. Blood erupts like a fountain from Toshinori’s arm, while he’s pretty sure All for One doesn’t even feel the pain.

  He’s being pushed back. His opponent laughs mockingly, as if he’s already won— he knows that One for All is on the verge of being extinguished.

  Then, Toshinori’s heel digs into the ground and All for One comes to a halt, his momentum completely arrested, as wind pressure shakes the sky in a howling thrum.

  Are you watching, Young Midoriya?

  Are you watching, master?

  Within him, the dying coals of One for All blaze more brightly. It’s a tangible presence now, a warm core that he can feel in his chest.

  He transfers his remaining power into his other arm as a feint, landing a hit on All for One’s scarred face. The man scowls, perhaps annoyed that All Might hasn’t gone down yet, scoffing at the futility and rearing his oversized arm back for a final blow to end it.

  “Little tricks like that aren’t like you. It’s weak!”

  “That’s because my back wasn’t in it!” Toshinori reaches back with his right arm again. This is it.

  Eight generations of crystallized power gather in his hand. With it, he can hear the voices of his master and the other six previous wielders. Their despair. Their anger. Their hope. Their belief in the next generation.

  He thinks he hears Young Midoriya cheering him on as well.

  A hundred years of resistance, of passing on One for All and ensuring its survival. Of defying the strongest villain in the world and spitting in his face even after death.

  It was all for this moment.

  The distance between him and All for One is closed with a single step. His foot shatters the ground, his waist rotates, every muscle screaming from exertion.

  For this instant, in this second, One for All is not dying, not a fading wisp. It roars, and sheer will stirs the flames into a raging inferno beyond even Endeavor’s Hellfire.

  One voice, bearing eight wills, thunders resonantly.

  “UNITED STATES OF SMASH!”

  His fist descends, wilder than a hurricane.

  His heart ascends, freer than a feather.

  Farewell, All for One!

  Farewell... One for All.