Chapter Text
Midoriya Inko wasn’t a special woman. At least, not in the way of epic movies or sweeping romance novels. It had made her perfect for his needs.
All for One had no illusions about his ability to connect with romantic partners. Tenuous at best, and painfully shallow at the worst. While he was excellent at manipulating people, he doesn’t quite get enough out of interreacting with them to bridge the gap. If he was honest with himself, old age wasn’t even to be blamed.
Which might be why he clamps down like a vise when he meets those so few that can hold his interest.
Inko was a little plain in a world full of vast mutations. The green sheen to her dark hair would have turned heads back in his childhood, but now stranger’s eyes skip right over the detail. He doubts if a crime happened that it would even make it into a witness report. She was petite, easily fitting into his arms when he swept her off her feet. It settled something deep in his chest, the ability to catch her in his hands so easily.
The woman came packaged with an unremarkable family name. Deceased father and estranged mother. No other family meant that when they marry on a sleepy September afternoon, he can take her name with no fuss. The best fake identities are grounded in truth. A little legwork, and alibis go from believable to airtight.
His wife doesn’t ask many questions and doesn’t balk at vague answers. All for One doesn’t actually know how much she suspected about his work, but he has far too much on his plate to interrogate her. She knew enough to lie through omission if questioned, and if she proved to have a change of heart later it was an easily resolved problem. No one in his network held all the cards, not even the good doctor and certainly not his lovely new wife.
He was content with brief interactions whenever he dropped by Musutafu. They curled together on the couch in the quaint apartment he bought her and put on a movie neither of them ended up watching. She told him of her passing attachment to their neighbors and calling the phone company to block her mother’s calls. She worked to keep herself preoccupied. Pulling odd shifts as a nurse at the local hospital. She gushed to him whenever her rotations left her in pediatrics; a glaring red flag in hindsight.
He returned to the apartment late one night, toeing off his dress shoes trying to be as quiet as possible. He had a cot at the lab that he would have normally preferred, but something in him was craving a real bed with a warm body tonight. With any luck Inko would sleep soundly as he slipped into bed.
So, it is a surprise to find his wife on the couch sitting nearly in the dark, soft yellow lamp light highlighting her face. She didn’t really react to him, instead staring off into space.
“Inko? Dear?” He prompted, setting down his briefcase unworried that Inko would ever open it to read the contents. “Why are you up so late?”
“Hisashi…” She said, finally her eyes tracked toward him. “I didn’t know you were coming back tonight. How was Osaka?” Her tone made it quite clear that she didn’t particularly care about Osaka. Inko was sweet and accommodating, so it took quite a lot to make her so self-reflective. For an amusing moment, he wondered if he had murdered her mother and simply forgotten. It would be convenient for him, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.
“It was fine.” He said, voice sharp. “What’s wrong?” He took her hands as he sat down beside her.
“It’s not bad… it’s just…” She started and then stopped again, eyes darting. She actually had him at a loss. As far as he knew nothing cataclysmic had occurred and Inko wasn’t one to be derailed by petty circumstances. She got upset plenty, but she would cry suddenly like a summer storm only to clear again minutes later.
“Hisashi I’m…” She grabbed something resting on the arm of the couch next to her, presenting it to him in lieu of finishing her sentence. Hisashi, because in this moment that was who he was, blinked at pregnancy test. He would never admit it, but it took him a few seconds to actually see the pink plus sign.
“You’re…” And now he was the one unable to speak.
“I’m pregnant! I mean, it must have been the new pills the doctor gave me. It could have interacted with…” Inko rambled on medical jargon blending into the muttering explaining exactly how this mistake had happened, but it was mostly lost on him, because the test still had his full attention.
“Are you sure?” Which was the wrong thing to ask as his wife’s nose crinkled up in response. “It’s not a bad thing it’s just…”
It’s just what? That he didn’t want to get his hopes up?
Inko’s nervousness made more sense now. He had very purposely not talked about children or expanding their happy little arrangement. Inko hadn’t seemed put out, but clearly, he had miscalculated her discontentment with their status quo.
Or maybe her medication had honestly failed.
“Hisashi.” She angled her body so she was fully facing him. The test was gripped tightly in her fist. “I won’t tell you how to feel, but I’m not unhappy about this.”
He nodded at that, not quite sure what to say. Also not hating the unfamiliar steel in the woman’s voice.
“I’m keeping them. You didn’t ask for this, so I won’t ask more than you can… provide, but I wasn’t…” She cut herself off with a hand on her flat stomach. Hisashi felt his own tighten, with anticipation and anxiety.
Many identities ago, in a different place with different faces, there had been a woman whose face he can’t even remember. A companion, with ideals not the same but at least compatible with his own. He hadn’t truly learned his lesson after the debacle with his brother and allowed himself to get far too close. He had been enamored with the idea of being a father, and she was far enough in her pregnancy that the miscarriage had been devastating to them both.
Things had been less stable then; her fate was unknown to him. Or perhaps he hadn’t looked very hard to know it. Was he ready to take such risk? He looked his wife in the eye, this would elevate her. This would become a much more permanent fixture in his life.
He had a child on the way.
His hand shot out and covered her fist still holding the test.
“I would love nothing more than to raise a child with you.” Her intake of breath and tears spilling over loosened something inside more than it had been in years. He finished leaning in taking her lips in a passionate kiss, sealing the agreement.
In the end, Inko does not keep up her half of the deal.
That’s how seven years later he ended up called to the same local hospital Inko had worked at years before. All for One tuned out a doctor trying to walking him through his wife’s death, distracted by a small green haired child slumped next to a tired social worker.
It was not as if little Izuku had never met him before, but that doesn’t make it better. The child held his hand and nodded like a bobble head at the social worker’s inane questions. The situation was going better than could be reasonably hoped for, yet All for One wasn’t pleased.
Cerebral hemorrhage had taken Inko out of the blue. Random freak medical event that happened on a Sunday when it was just her and Izuku in the apartment. It was a shame; she was a good woman. and perhaps he had been around one of his healing quirks could have been enough to revive her.
As it was, he took a moment to crouch in front of his grieving son and inform him of how proud he was that Izuku had promptly called the police when Inko collapsed and recited their address. It wasn’t enough, but positive reinforcement of rapid response time was crucial. Especially with the night being so traumatic for him, All for One had found that horror had a way of cementing lessons.
Izuku had been a good baby, a curious toddler and now was an obedient and emotional child. He loved his gentle little son, but his enthusiasm when Inko was pregnant was quickly snuffed out when he realized exactly how fragile his progeny actually was. His work had suffered greatly standing over Izuku’s crib, large hand on the tiny chest just to ensure it was expanding with breath.
Inko had snapped three months into the spiraling obsession he had for his son’s survival. This expressed itself with her kicking him out of his own home with instructions for him to find work, a hobby or anything to divert his smothering attention. He relented and staged a business trip to appease Inko.
It worked wonderfully allowing him to calm down marginally by killing drug dealing upstarts, and thus began the trend of Hisashi having brief interactions with his son, largely living elsewhere. Then, things in the underground became more active and All Might became an even bigger pain and All for One became even more scarce.
Izuku grew, clearly very clever, but so fragile. All for One could see his son, but not a successor in the boy. He intended to provide for and protect both mother and son for their lifespans, but the greatest gift he could give his delicate son was a light hand in his life. That was until Izuku developed his quirk and plans derailed once more.
Inko had called him, no greeting and had to try multiple times to make any sense.
“His quirk, I… it came in but…”
“What is it?” Hisashi snapped impatient, wanting to know how much trouble this development would be.
“A light projection quirk? I think, he can make little projections in his palm.” That was a very random quirk, not similar to his or Inko’s and while mutations weren’t unhear of it was more likely that…
“But dear! Izuku’s kindergarten teacher, she had an assistant. The girl has the exact same quirk! And she’s been absent for a ‘medical emergency’ ever since Izuku’s came in.” Inko explained, voice approaching shrill.
Hmm, he wondered if Inko had been pacing for days, staring at the evidence and not liking the implications. It was not that he discounted the possibility that Izuku could inherit a version of All for One, but he had hoped it wasn’t the case. Pull would have been a much more appropriate quirk that would have been useful without attracting the wrong type of attention. But it would be fine, he had no intention of repeating the same mistake he had made with his brother. He wasn’t so clouded by sentiment that he would allow another copy of his powerful quirk to run wild.
“Is that so.” He replied unconcerned. Inko made a noise he was hard pressed to describe and silence stretched long enough to be uncomfortable. She must come to decision finally though because…
“A quirk like this is… Hisashi? Is there a way you can, ah, take care of this?” Bless this woman, she was worried that Izuku would be judged harshly for owning such a frightening quirk. And she wasn’t wrong.
“Who else knows?”
“Just us.” She answered, voice tentatively hopeful.
“Right, I can take care of it, but you will have to make a sacrifice.” He warned.
“Okay, okay. Just come back to us soon, and we can discuss it.” She replied ever cautious. “I love you. We love you.”
He could feel his face stretch into a grin only a smidge predatory.
“Of course, my love.”
He had countless quirks that he could give Izuku to make up for stealing his natural born one, but this was too perfect of an opportunity to pass up. He gave her the choice to transfer her own quirk, Pull, to her son. No one would find it strange that the child has telekinesis. Inko surprised him by agreeing quickly, only a little sad expression when he pulled her quirk through their clasped hands.
She looked concerned as at breakfast Hisashi threaded his fingers through his son’s hair and swapped the quirks.
Izuku only giggled, flailing a bit like the five-year-old he was.
“That tickles daddy!” Izuku declared to a stunned AFO. He shouldn’t have been taken so off guard, but giving quirks had never been so simple. It was seamless. If he had to relate the experience, he would say it was the difference between placing the last piece of a well-made puzzle versus hacking away at an invasive root structure. Normally the task was annoying, difficult and painful for all parties.
They must have a secondary mutation that allowed for storage and access to multiple quirks. Izuku was practically made to interface with All for One.
He contemplated his son’s potential as a future storage container as he dutifully spread jam on the four-year old’s toast. Inko eyed him with new-founded wariness from across the table, but she opted to not ask too many questions which was for the best. She did break out in a smile when Izuku knocked over his glass of apple juice by unintentionally pulling on it. His confused face was comically adorable as he blinked wide green eyes at his parents.
“Oh, baby you have my quirk!” Quite literally. “That’s wonderful.”
“but I thought my quirk was that other thing?” Izuku looked so lost that all he can do was laugh and ruffle the boy’s curls again. The light projection was soon forgotten and he personally ensured that the quirk’s original owner wouldn’t be talking to anyone about her unfortunate bout of quirklessness.
The child’s undivided attention made him miss Inko all the more. She had a good, if short life and produced a remarkable child, so he refused to be maudlin about her passing. Those facts are not enough to stop the desire to revive her so that she could take care of this mess.
Izuku’s hand is tiny in his as they cross the threshold into the apartment. He was greeted with furniture rearranged from the positions he had seen them last. Had he really been gone so long? Izuku certainly seemed uncomfortable around him. Then again, the child was only six and dealing with grief. His behavior could have many reasons.
To be honest, he did not want much from the household. Most of it had been purchased by Inko. His wife had been practical and not prone to collecting clutter, that being Izuku and his own domain, so that left little of value in the apartment. He decided to tackle the most difficult task first and pulled Izuku along to the child’s room. The only warning All for One got to brace himself was the All Might themed name plate on the door. Izuku’s characters were etched on it with pride.
Maybe Inko hadn’t been as practical as he thought.
If wasn’t as if he hadn’t known his son had a fondness for heroes, he thought as he took in the veritable shrine for All Might that just happened to have a twin bed crammed in a corner. He just hadn’t realized that it had gotten this extreme. It was perhaps a mistake to leave Izuku to his own devices during such formative years. This… could become a problem.
“Pack your things. Let me know if anything is too heavy.” He set a medium sized black suitcase next to the boy who blinked up at him with owlish round eyes, startled. He could complete the task much faster, but doing it himself might make Izuku feel better about the move.
“Pack? Why?” Izuku asked, voice reed thin almost inaudible. It’s the first thing the boy had said in hours. All for One hadn’t told the boy that he would come live with him yet. He didn’t feel the need to. Tomura no longer questioned his demands. He expected obedience from the children in his care, but it seemed he hadn’t impressed that upon his son yet.
“You’ll need clothes and toiletries for your new room, and books I suppose. Of course, you’ll be living with me from now on. Did the social worker not tell you this?”
“The nice lady? She said you didn’t make up your mind yet.” Izuku said, sounding dazed enough that he was tempted to check for a brain injury. Maybe after he murdered the social worker, it was inappropriate to tell a child that their only remaining parent perhaps didn’t want them. Even if it was the truth.
Izuku might be better off in the foster care system, and it was tempting to go that route. Even more tempting as horror dawned on the boy’s face and tears started to gather.
“But this is my room.” Izuku said, voice thick. On the verge of sobbing.
“Not anymore. You’ll come live with me.” It was tempting to not take him. Foster care was still terrible, but not the capital sentence it was back when Hisashi was a young man. A smart boy, with All for One’s backing from afar could still thrive and excel. It would be obnoxious if the child’s grandmother tried to claim him, but that was easily solvable if a bit messy.
“No I…This is my room.” Izuku repeated, breath coming quicker. “This is where we live.”
“Your mother isn’t coming back and you can’t live alone, pack your things.” He stated trying to be as calm as possible. He could use some power, intimidate the child into submission, but the long-term damage would be unfortunate. “Clothes, pack them now Izuku. Leave the toys. I’ll buy you new ones.”
Which is exactly the wrong thing to say apparently. Izuku threw himself to the ground and started bawling, not even responding as All for One tried to call his name. With a shake of his head, he cut his losses and left the wailing child on the floor. Izuku won’t win in a game of stamina with the centuries-old villain.
He walked the familiar path to Inko and his bedroom for the final time. He selected items with intention. There are important documents; her passport he had insisted she get for ‘paperwork reasons’, financial statements to destroy later, certificates, their copy of Izuku’s quirk registration among other things. He already had been given her wedding ring at the hospital. A couple of photo albums also go into his bag, they would be nice for posterity and perhaps they could chase away the image of his wife’s cold grey body. With that it was time to scrape the puddle of his distressed son off the floor. But he hesitated at the doorway.
It was a little pathetic, but after a second of silent contemplation he picked up Inko’s bottle of perfume off the vanity. An unassuming bottle, pink to white gradient of frosted glass and as he brought it to his nose, he could catch a faint scent of fresh currants. She may as well have been standing behind him.
Memory and smell were tightly linked. Maybe it would be valuable in dealing with Izuku later on. Especially now that the boy had no hope of a civilian future. He made a quick promise to Inko’s ghost, that their child would be brilliant, a legend in his own right, as he wrapped the perfume bottle in an abandoned cardigan and tucked it into the bag as well.
Said future legend has in fact not calmed down by the time he reentered Izuku’s bedroom.
The boy had pulled his All Might themed comforter off the bed and wrapped himself in it while clutching multiple All Might plushies and action figures. All this was made more pathetic by the laptop open to an old video of his nemesis’ debut, which his son watched while still sobbing uncontrollably.
“He can’t save you.” Hisashi told him, which just made the crying somehow stronger than before. “At least not from this little one.”
He crouched down near the desk chair, shifting the blanket down until he could see his son’s face. It was red and blotchy, but there was more determination in those eyes than when he had left. Curious.
“Why this video?” They don’t really have time for this discussion, but he needed to know. Most children would be enamored with how ‘cool’ All Might looked fighting villains, but this one had chosen disaster footage to comfort himself.
“H-he alwa-y-ys smiles, no matt-er how bad things g-get.” Izuku hiccupped, tears still streaming. And then his son tried to smile. It was a pathetic attempt looking more manic wobbly than happy or reassuring, but it was enough to get All for One thinking.
Izuku was nearly opposite to Nana’s grandchild.
Perhaps Izuku shouldn’t be raised separate from Tomura. They could potentially balance each other out. Hmm, something to think about later. He reached out and snapped the laptop shut, despite Izuku’s cry of protest.
“All Might would want you to be brave.” That was difficult to say, but he gritted it out through his teeth. He would convince the child later that his idol was a pathetic sham, but if he let Izuku keep wailing their neighbors would eventually call the cops. “Pack your things right now and I’ll let you keep three hero things.”
“Only three?” Horror was a mild word for Izuku’s expression
“It will be nothing if you don’t go right now.” All for One let the full weight of his authority bleed into his voice and finally the child sprang into action gathering random articles of clothes and flinging them into the suitcase. That was fine, anything he didn’t approve off could be destroyed later.
A couple minutes later saw his son agonizing over whether to take a limited-edition movie or an All Might plushie, when suddenly he looked over at Hisashi.
“Um… dad?”
“What?”
“My notebooks don’t count, right? Cause they got heroes in them, but I can’t leave them and there are more than three sowhatdoIdoIcan’tleaveAllMigh-“
“Izuku, breathe.” He ordered. “What notebooks?”
Izuku jabbed a finger up at a shelf near the closet door. Thin composition books are stacked together with Gang Orca and Ragdoll action figures serve guard as bookends. At first glance he had assumed they were workbooks for Katakana and Hiragana, maybe some English too, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. All for One flipped through one at random and felt a smile break out on his face. He was looking at a child’s clumsy attempt at quirk analysis.
His son wasn’t just worshipping heroes, he was watching them, attempting to analyze them. Izuku was more like him than just messy hair and similar quirks. He had almost made a mistake. Had Inko not died… or if he had dropped the child off at a strangers’ house.
“I’ll let you keep them. Finish packing.” He smiled down at his son for the first time in years. “We have a lot of work to do.”
The child smiled tentatively back.
Izuku’s hand was a little sweaty, but his dad still pulled him along. He didn’t know much about Midoriya Hisashi, just that he worked a lot and bringing him up sometimes makes, well made, his mother sad. Just the thought had tears pricking in his eyes again. He tried his best to smother them, breathing wetly, crying seemed to irritate his father. Izuku couldn’t forget that the lady at the hospital had not seemed sure that his father would even want him. Izuku didn’t have anywhere else to go.
And neither did the pair of them either, he was surprised to find them at the dead end of an alley. He peaked up up up at the tall man that was supposedly his father with confusion. Could he try and offer help? Dad was an adult, but maybe he didn’t know his way around and like Kacchan was too proud to ask for help?
“Are we lost?” Izuku asked, as his father typed on his phone. It looked nice, something his mama would call ‘expensive’. Dad did work enough that he was never home, maybe he had a lot of money. Everyone in Izuku’s class had their dad’s come home though, and if they didn’t, they spent the weekend visiting them. Izuku was about the repeat his question when the air started to move in front of them.
Black inky mist swirled in beautiful patterns forming a person sized circle. Izuku gasped as he took in what had to be a quirk. Someone else’s maybe, because he was pretty sure mama said dad’s quirk was fire breathing. It was against the rules, but Izuku couldn’t help it as he pulled a little with his quirk and the mist distorted a tiny bit.
“Already experimenting?” His father asked, his voice much happier since they had left their home. A thought with he must stop right now so he wouldn’t start crying again.
“Uh sorry! Um, will this person get in trouble?” Izuku still didn’t know why they were here watching this person’s quirk anyway. “Nara-sensei said your only supposed to do it at home.”
“Didn’t you just use yours?” Dad said with a raised eyebrow. Izuku’s face flushed red; he didn’t think anyone would notice.
“uhhh I’m sorry!” He had no defense. He hadn’t been thinking, but dad just laughed.
“It will be our secret, no worries.” With that Hisashi started to pull him toward the mist. Oh, it was not just pretty mist.
“I don’t wanna go in.” He said, trying to yank his hand out of his dad’s grasp.
“Izuku, I will not argue with you on everything. You mother just died, but I have been exceedingly patient with you.” And with that Izuku was yanked clear off his feet and through the mist to the other side.
Everything was different. Somehow it was even more dark here than the alley, and it was chilly enough that Izuku wished he had kept his hoodie out and not stuffed in into the suitcase. His arm hurt, but rather than start screaming again he tried to take the big gulp like breath the lady at the hospital made him practice.
His dad let go and he slumped onto smooth concrete that maybe been cleaned wrong? It was weirdly blotchy. Izuku pulled his suitcase closer as he took in the tables covered in papers and computers shoved against the wall. There were also maps pinned to the wall with sticky notes stuck next to pins, and they show everywhere not just Japan. Well, mama did say his dad traveled for business a lot. Maybe he had even been to America.
“Izuku play quietly, your minder should be here later today.” His father ordered and made his way to a sitting man that he hadn’t noticed until now.
“Tsubasa-sensei! What are you doing here?” Izuku burst out.
“He works for me.” His father answered. “Now, no more interruptions. We have work to do.”
“But…” That didn’t make sense. Why would his doctor work for his dad? And Tsubasa-chan live in Izuku’s neighborhood, so how would that kid’s grandfather and his dad who was always away work together. He must be mumbling again, because his father sighed, sounding annoyed.
Hisashi reached around a stack a paper and grabbed a handful of blank ones, then plucking a pen from an abandoned cup, he tossed the supplies on the floor next to him.
“There, write your thoughts on the portal quirk.” His father’s voice sounded more like something a tv characters would than a parent. “Impress me and I may let you watch tv.”
And so Izuku set out to impress him.