The afternoon sky over Musutafu was painted in streaks of orange and gold, the sun lazily dipping toward the horizon. From his vantage point atop a small building, Izuku Midoriya scanned the streets below with a casual ease, hands tucked in his hoodie pockets. The city was relatively calm for a weekday, but his enhanced senses could pick up the subtle ripple of tension in the air — faint, but unmistakable.
Something was happening a few blocks away.
He didn't need to guess twice when he heard the muffled boom, followed by the sharp cries of panic.
"Multiple heat signatures… seven villains… large kinetic impacts," he muttered to himself. His eyes narrowed, a faint glow in the irises before he dialed his senses back down. It wasn't his fight — not yet. He had promised himself to play things carefully, revealing only what was needed.
So he simply leapt down from the building, landing silently in the shadows of an alleyway, and made his way closer.
By the time he reached the scene, the crowd had already gathered — smartphones out, cheers echoing through the street. Standing in the center of it all, like the sun itself had decided to wear a cape, was the man everyone knew: All Might.
The Symbol of Peace moved with an effortless confidence, his powerful frame swatting villains aside like they were cardboard cutouts. Each punch was calculated, not overly flashy, but brimming with controlled might. One by one, the thugs fell until they were nothing more than groaning piles on the pavement, wrists bound and waiting for the authorities.
Izuku lingered at the edge of the crowd, studying every detail. All Might's timing… his energy output… the way his punches landed with just enough force to incapacitate but not kill. It was artistry.
Still, beneath the cheers, Izuku could see it — the faint twitch in All Might's jaw, the tightness in his shoulders, the small shifts in stance that betrayed a clock ticking in his head. He knew what that meant.
Time's running out for him.
When the police sirens wailed in the distance, All Might gave his usual booming laugh, waved to the crowd, and disappeared down a side street. Izuku's gaze followed. He already knew where this was going.
The alley was dark and narrow, the warm colors of sunset giving way to cold shadows. The moment All Might turned the corner, the transformation began.
Like air leaking from a balloon, the towering muscles deflated in seconds, leaving behind a tall, gaunt man in a plain suit. His golden hair, still upright like twin horns, looked almost too large for the frail face it crowned.
Toshinori Yagi — the man behind the legend.
He pressed a hand to his side, coughing once into his fist. A wet, ugly sound echoed faintly off the alley walls before he steadied himself against the brick. His breaths were shallow but controlled — he was used to masking pain.
That's when he noticed movement at the alley's mouth.
Toshinori's eyes went wide. A boy stood there, stepping calmly into the dim light — green eyes watching him with an unsettling clarity. The same boy who had been in the crowd.
"You—!" Toshinori straightened, eyes narrowing, ready to explain or deflect… until he realized there was no shock in the boy's face. No wide-eyed gasp, no accusing finger.
Instead, the boy smiled politely and gave a small bow.
"Good evening, All Might," the boy said, voice calm and measured. "Or… should I call you Toshinori Yagi?"
For a moment, Toshinori felt his pulse spike. He had been caught before, but never like this. Usually, the moment people saw his skeletal frame, their faith cracked, and the questions came rushing in like a flood. But this boy's tone wasn't laced with betrayal or disbelief — just… familiarity.
"And who might you be?" Toshinori asked cautiously, his voice thinner than his hero persona.
"Izuku Midoriya," the boy replied, taking another step forward. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."
The politeness caught Toshinori off guard. "You… you don't seem surprised."
Izuku chuckled softly. "Should I be? People are more than what they appear. Besides… if you're here, fighting in this state, it means you care enough to keep going even when it hurts." His voice was sincere, almost too knowing for someone his age.
Something in Toshinori's chest tightened — not from injury, but from the way those words landed.
"Why are you here, Midoriya?" he asked, his tone still guarded.
"Because I saw the Symbol of Peace struggling and thought maybe I could offer my help… in a different way," Izuku said. He tilted his head, the corners of his mouth lifting in a knowing smile. "You look like you could use somewhere safe to catch your breath."
Toshinori blinked. He had expected a dozen things — questions about his power, about his injury, maybe even someone trying to take advantage of the truth. But an offer of help? That was new.
"I… appreciate the thought," Toshinori said slowly. "But it's not wise to involve civilians in—"
"I'm not asking to fight alongside you," Izuku interrupted gently, his tone respectful but firm. "Just to give you a place to rest for a moment. A place where you don't have to pretend."
Those last words hung in the air.
Toshinori's sharp eyes studied the boy's expression — calm, unwavering, sincere. He wasn't sure why, but he believed him.
"And why," Toshinori asked carefully, "would you do that for someone you barely know?"
Izuku's gaze softened. "Because in another time… you inspired me to keep moving forward. You were proof that one person can change everything. Maybe… it's my turn to return the favor."
The older man felt an odd warmth in his chest — something between gratitude and suspicion. The kid spoke with the weight of someone who had seen more than his age suggested.
"…You're a strange one, Midoriya," Toshinori muttered with a faint smile.
"I get that a lot," Izuku replied with a small shrug.
For a moment, the only sound in the alley was the faint hum of the city beyond. Toshinori glanced toward the street, knowing he shouldn't linger — but also knowing he was pushing his limits.
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "All right. I'll take you up on your offer. But if you tell anyone—"
"You have my word," Izuku said instantly, without hesitation.
That level of certainty in a teenager's voice was rare… and strangely reassuring.
Toshinori straightened his suit, still looking a little out of place without his hero form, and nodded. "Lead the way, Midoriya."
Izuku stepped back, motioning toward the street with a polite gesture. "It's not far from here. My mom's out, so it'll just be us. I'll make something for you to eat — it'll help with the fatigue."
Toshinori raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The kid's composure was unsettling, but… oddly comforting at the same time.
As they walked out of the shadows, side by side, Toshinori found himself wondering — not for the first time that evening — just who exactly Izuku Midoriya really was.
But that, he decided, was a question for later.
For now, he was content to follow the boy toward the promise of food, shelter, and perhaps — though he wouldn't admit it — a rare moment of peace.