Chapter Text
Soaring high above Chiba, taking in the jarring shift in perspective that comes from seeing a familiar sight from the all-empowering bird’s eye view, Mirio Togata realized something that he had, apparently, never thought of before: he was quite afraid of heights.
There is, of course, something to be said for specific moments in one’s life which plant the seeds of a lingering phobia, and Mirio suspected that this might be one such moment for two reasons:
- He had previously climbed very tall buildings and looked down at the familiar in an unfamiliar way with no trouble.
- He was much higher than any of those buildings, now, and, being as this was more of a jet-propelled absurdist nightmare of a quirk sandwich, he couldn’t actually fly. Ergo, he couldn’t actually come back down to earth safely.
So, in retrospect, “soaring” might have been less apropos than “rocketing across the sky at speeds he was not used to and which he did not consider a possibility before eating an aging man’s (admittedly silky smooth) hair." We’ll call that the Narrator’s fault.
In any case, at the rate his gigantic ass was careening through the lower atmosphere, Mirio roughly guessed that he would most likely end up in the water somewhere, whereupon he could, hopefully, use his permeation to circumvent the surface tension of the water. I mean, theoretically, he could circumvent the surface tension of the sun, but that was an estimate he (that is, Tamaki) had calculated back when everything made sense. Back before he could crush ingots of cast titanium. Back when charming Sir Nighteye was as easy as pie.
Back before a massive human juggernaut was inexplicably careening along the same flight path in front of him, lightly slapping his face with a hand the size of a school textbook.
“Focus up there, young lad!” All Might shouted as comfortingly as possible through the cacophonous rush of wind. “If you’re going to get through even more dire straits than this, you’re going to need to keep your wits about you!”
“Bwah!!!” was all Mirio could muster as he flailed pointlessly for a correction to this situation. “All Might?! You can fly?!”
All Might guffawed at this, striking a stately pose in mid-air. “Not even a little bit!” he answered boldly. “And if those reports that I thumbed through are to be believed, neither can you!”
“ Thumbed through?!”
“Skimmed, man! Perused! Given a very respectable single read! Are we going to keep doing this all day or are we going to solve this little predicament, you and I?”
Mirio swallowed hard, clenched his eyes, and withdrew his limbs.
“‘Atta boy! Cool as a Christmas cucumber!” All Might bellowed reassuringly. “Now, based on how fast I had to run and how hard I had to jump to overtake and then match pace with you, I figure you’ve got another five seconds of momentum! Get ready! It’s gonna feel mighty weird when-”
Mirio proceeded to vomit as his stomach was gripped with the mighty weird sensation of drastically losing forward momentum and beginning to arc back towards an increasingly ambivalent surface of the Earth. In that moment, his body became ice cold, his vision grew dark, and his head lost all sense of its connection to gravity. Time moved at a rate so incomprehensible that it no longer seemed to exist. Any awareness of safety and self-preservation vanished. Also, there was an insane amount of stomach salvage lining his favorite All-Might © tracksuit (“Guaranteed to work for your quirk, or your money back!”), which sucked.
As he struggled to maintain his rapidly-fading grip on reality, Mirio was hit with the strangeness of it all. The sense of before and that of after, the here-and-now vs the way-back-when. Earlier this very year, he was some two-bit washout scrambling hopelessly at the UA Sports Festival, and now here he was, too powerful to succeed. A mere two weeks ago, he had become bearer of the torch to light the way for all mankind. Now? He imagined himself being nothing but a gross meat feast wedged into some shattered concrete alongside a tracksuit covered in semi-ramen.
“I can even tell you how much he farted,” the coroner would say to his parents, “And trust me, it was a tremendous amount.” His dad would cry. His mom would just stare off into space like she did.
Slipping into unconsciousness as a teenage boy is a weird sensation, but as he finally crossed the threshold, he was at least thankful that he wouldn’t be awake to feel any of what came next.
What came next was a gentle rush of familiarity that coaxed him back into the waking world. From the kitchen, he could hear his dad, Benjiro, exchanging “man talk” with All Might (an expression which All Might did not conceive of, but categorically did not resist using). His mother, Yukihime, sat in comfortable silence (generally quite different from aggressive, judgmental, and forward-thinking silence) at the dining room table. From the sound of it, she was drinking tea in an air of pensive stillness courtesy of one Shota Aizawa (alias, “Eraserhead,” AKA: “Ren Togata’s secret crush”). He was one of two handlers brought in to mitigate such disasters during training, and, if he was here, it was probable that he knew that Mirio had been doing unapproved exercises with his quirks, which would be a costly mistake. Mirio, for his part, couldn’t tell whether he would be more or less nervous if this had happened during Sir’s shift.
“You awake, you big dummy?” whispered a voice from someone he soon realized was his little sister, Renkiri, who held his head in her lap as he lay stretched out on the couch. Mirio began to say something, but Ren stopped him. “More specifically, are you okay if everyone knows you’re awake? Use the signals, you dummy.”
Mirio had to struggle to stifle a chuckle, and found himself relieved that the sudden flexion didn’t trigger any pain. Slowly and methodically, so as not to attract suspicion, Mirio practiced the pretending-to-sleep communication protocols he and Ren had developed over the last 12 years. He carefully rotated his body to be facing up toward the ceiling so that she could see his hand signals clearly. Then, sliding his arms up to his chest, he signaled thusly:
- One finger
- Thumbs-up
- Two fingers
- Thumbs up
“Okay,” Ren whispered after a sigh, “You asked for it. Just know that I still love you.”
Mirio made a small heart on his chest with his hands.
Ren smirked, then proceeded to shout, “Hey, he’s pretending to be asleep!”
The energy in the room became as electric as three work-a-day schlubs and a dying demi-god could muster as Ren proceeded to hammer several surprisingly heavy strikes directly into Mirio’s face. While the pain was real, there was a conceit in this, a commonly-used gambit among the two. If at all possible, in the event that Mirio or Ren got in trouble for something, it was the responsibility of the unoffending party to visibly castigate the hooligan in question so as to generate even a modicum of extra sympathy from their parents or any other adults they needed to convince. On their own time, when the pair could converse alone, they would hash out the things that felt needed to be said to one another. For the moment, however, Ren thought the world of her older brother, and had already begun planning to be his marketing manager, when he became a famous hero.
Which he couldn’t do with all these nerdy adults pestering him about being cool.
“If you ever do something stupid like that again,” she continued through the furious clobbering, “Whenever I get into UA, I’m going to tell everyone that you and Nejire were dating the whole time! How could you do this in front of Mr. Eraserhead?! You know he’s my future husband!”
“Renkiri, for God’s sake, be quiet,” came the placid but very direct voice of Yuki, who stared in dead-eyed bemusement at her daughter.
“And please stop punching your brother in the face!” chimed in All Might, grabbing his chin purposefully. “He’s going to have to take the place of all this, someday! He needs that bread-and-butter intact!”
Ren dutifully stopped pummeling Mirio’s face. For a moment, there was awkward silence, which gave way, in due time, to the snorting laughter of Mirio, Benjiro, Ren, and All Might himself.
“And on that note, missy,” Benji spoke up through the laughter (which a cursory glance at the dining room table would reveal was approaching unacceptable levels), “Your brother here has some very important things to discuss with your mom and Mr. Aizawa. So, what do you say you and I go and get snacks? Ruby chocolate wafers! My treat!”
“But I don’t want ruby chocolate wafers,” Ren posited firmly. “I want to see Mirio get in trouble. I won’t even say anything, I promise! You won’t even know I’m here!”
“Renkiri,” Yuki said coolly, in that intense mom way that all moms evolved to tell you that things were about to get hairy.
Ren puffed up her cheeks and blew a raspberry, signalling defeat. She then kissed her hand and punched Mirio once more with it before getting up to join her father. As she put on her shoes to head out the door, she called back, “Do you want anything, Mr. All Might? Mr. Aizawa, do you still only like bad candy?”
“Oh, come on,” said Benjiro, “Now you’re just being ridiculous.” He hustled her out the door, leaving the apartment bathed in an intense wash of quiet.
No one was entirely sure of how to proceed. The two people who wanted the answers spoke the least, and the two who had the answers spoke the most. Which might be a preferable arrangement, had anyone wanted to speak.
After a moment, All-Might sat across from Yuki at the dining room table, cleared his throat, and said, “Well, I think it’s quite clear that I’m at fault, in this situation. I know the deal. I knew I needed to wait for Aizawa or Nighteye to supervise a training session, and I understand why.”
“So, then,” Shota Aizawa spoke up for the first time since Mirio had awoken, “Why didn’t you wait for me? You knew I was on my way.”
“Ha, well,” All Might chuckled weakly, “You know, I see it in the boy’s eyes.” He gestured to Mirio. “He’s just got that fire. That spark of youth. I know you feel it when you teach these kids, my friend! Makes you feel young, again!”
“We’re not young anymore, All Might,” Aizawa retorted firmly. “Fires cause damage. And as I recall, so did a very young All Might. The only way this is going to work is if we keep these impulses in check, which, as you’re no doubt aware, is why Principal Nedzu only agreed to this if myself or Sir Nighteye were present for the entire process.” At this very somber barrage of purely logical thought, All Might turned his attention to the table.
“No one’s told me what actually happened, yet,” Yuki said. “I would like to know what, exactly, put Mirio in so much danger.”
“Ah,” All Might began, “You see, I-”
“Not from you, All Might,” Yuki interrupted, “But thank you. I want to hear Mirio tell me about it. And if you so choose, you can jump in to correct anything he may be misremembering. I feel that’s a fair request.”
All Might nodded pointedly forward. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Now, Mirio,” Yuki continued, sliding out a chair beside her. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”
By this point, the joviality that had preceded this conversation had completely left, in Mirio’s mind, and he was left feeling little but shame and spite. Realistically, there wasn’t much anyone could do to punish him, but that was hardly the problem at hand. He was disappointed in himself, and he knew that at least Mr. Aizawa was disappointed in him. If his mom was disappointed in him, as well, he might as well pack in this whole One For All business. How could so much shame be overcome, even with the punching power of a thousand suns?
He could see all the hope and optimism of the past two weeks begin to unravel, and the sudden emotional dump left him unable to do much besides stare at the floor and shed a tear. “Do I have to sit over there?” he asked.
“It would be the most logical-” Aizawa began before Yuki interjected with a silent hand.
“You can sit wherever you need to, Sugar Lump,” she said calmly. “But we do need you to talk to us.” At this, Mirio took a deep breath, composed himself and began from the couch.
It had rained the night before. Mirio had awoken in the middle of the evening, aching to his bones from all the training, and found himself hoping against hope that there would be a downpour, that All Might would sweet-talk either of his handlers into skipping training for the following day.
Of course, this was simply not to be. Indeed, as he arose the next morning to a chorus of popping joints and his own agonized grunts of discontent, he could immediately see that the sun had risen to greet him (and was probably laughing at him). To make matters worse, the rain from the night before had puddled up and was steam-cooking the entirety of Chiba prefecture in the summer swelter. Verifying what he already knew for certain, Mirio opened his bedroom window and was immediately blasted in the face with a searing wave of humidity that made him begin sweating almost immediately. He sighed, closed the window, and began the stiff and procedural trek around his room, dutifully tidying up what he knew he would be far too exhausted to clean, that evening, before zipping up his All-Might© tracksuit (with matching backpack) and shuffling out to the dining room.
“Good morning, good morning!” Benji beamed from the kitchen as he diligently made what was, quite frankly, too much food for four people, but just passing the mark of “Sufficient” for four people that included a twelve-year-old girl and a thick chunk of artificially souped-up teenager. “How’s everyone’s favorite superhuman this morning?”
It was hard to keep from smiling at the warm and fuzzy embrace of the ever-loving Togata family, and Mirio flashed the best smile he could muster as he anxiously rubbed the back of his head. “Stiff,” he said. “And sweaty.”
Benji laughed as he expertly shuffled an omelet in its pan. The sizzling goodness wafted into Mirio’s nose, and he instantly felt a sense of relief as he approached the table.
“Come sit down, Sugar Lump,” Yuki said softly as she patted the chair beside her. “Take a load off for a bit.”
“No!” Ren chimed in past the noises of her favorite beat-em-up ( All-Might vs The Hell Porpoises , if you must know). “Sit next to me! I wanna show you my Eraserhead loadout!”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Yuki playfully scolded, grabbing Mirio’s head firmly and pressing it to her body, kissing him the whole time. “This stinking hunk of mustard is gonna sit right next to me” (kiss) “and tell me all about” (kiss) “what it’s like” (kiss) “being the next number one hero” (several kisses).
“Mom, please!” Mirio laughed as he gently struggled to get away. “I’m already sweating!”
“Oh, I don’t care,” Yuki responded, squeezing him tighter. “Better to get this out of the way before you go off to training.”
“I say he stinks, either way,” Ren huffed without looking up from her custom Eraserhead-themed Nintendo Switch.
“Now, now, my favorite ladies” Benji chuckled as he came around the corner with a piping hot stack of omelets, which he placed on the already obscenely full table “You’re each going to need both hands if you have any hope of defeating…” he flexed his well-crafted muscles several times.
“ The Saturday Morning Thick Boys’ Breakfast! ” everyone said in unison with their best pro-wrestler voices. Benji guffawed at this, as he did every single time the family indulged his bombastic behavior. He grabbed and locked Ren’s console mechanically and sat down beside her. She blew a raspberry at no one in particular and began grabbing at food as Benji patted her head.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Honey Bee,” he growled playfully. “I may not be the next All Might, but I’d say I make a stellar breakfast buddy.”
“Mhmm,” Ren mumbled through a mouthful of steamed squash, refusing to look at Benji. “I’m filing for emancipation by the end of the month.” Everyone laughed at this, and Mirio’s stress seemed to melt away as he felt his mother’s chuckles in his entire body. She gave him one final kiss and released him.
“Love you,” the pair said in unison.
Breakfast was as jovial and fun as could be expected, but, deep down in their collective heart, a sense of doubt and dread had been percolating for the past several weeks. Nobody seemed ready to talk about it, preferring, instead to let Mirio take his newfound responsibilities day by day, but it was hard to ignore the shivering truth that lay behind the veneer of superpowers and smiles. Indeed, it was a truth that plagued Mirio’s mind with every popping joint and strained muscle, and one that, sooner or later, he would have to face, regardless of whether or not he and his family were ready to discuss it.
In accepting the role of the next Symbol of Peace, Mirio Togata, young as he was, had begun painting a gigantic target on his back.
“It’s a titanic responsibility, doing what we do,” Aizawa chimed in calmly. “Was this not something that had crossed your mind before you accepted this responsibility?”
Mirio looked down at his twiddling thumbs. “Yes? No? Maybe?” he sniffled. “I don’t really know. Everything has moved so fast lately. I guess it’s hard to say what it feels like when your idol tells you that you have what it takes to be his replacement. Especially being…” his voice cracked, and he had to choke back the urge to start crying again. “Being a loser, and all.”
“That’s hardly a reason to take on such a huge burden, Mirio,” Aizawa answered. At this, All Might, still smiling as broadly as ever, slapped him on the back an audible thud. Aizawa glared at him for a moment, then sighed heavily. “What I mean is, if you can’t get out of your own head, it’s going to be that much harder to focus on the task at hand. And when you do what we do, those tasks can mean the difference between life and death, for you, and for scores of innocent people around you. You’re a bright young man, Mirio. Surely, you understand all of this.”
“Yes, sir,” Mirio answered glumly. Yukihime gently began rubbing his back with a delicate, but firm, hand.
“It’s okay, Sugar Lump,” she whispered. “Please, go on.”
Ever true to his word, Mirio had jogged from his home to the Hoshizaki Overpass, and arrived just in time to see that the nearby alleyway where All Might usually met him was completely vacant. Huffing, puffing, and positively drenched in the foulness of his own embarrassing brand of teenage boy sweat, he paused for a moment to catch his breath and take stock of just how exhausted he felt, as a general rule, these days. It was a deep fatigue, the kind that made his head spin just from waking up in the morning. The kind of exhaustion that embitters a young man. And Mirio was, despite his best efforts to prove the contrary, the kind of sensitive young man that internalized such exhaustion on a personal, emotional level. It wasn’t that he would rather be home playing video games with his sister as opposed to training to be the world’s greatest superhuman, per se. More like he had been putting in his damndest effort, his best foot forward, for weeks, and expected some sort of globalized reciprocity for all of his diligent hard work.
Or, at the very least, he expected these secretive sons of bitches to match his determination by showing up on time.
Wait… what time was it?
He pulled out his cell phone, now unappealingly moist in his pocket, and flipped it open.
9:46 AM. Had he seriously shaved nine minutes off of his run time?
It didn’t seem possible, given that he had only been at this for two weeks, but the numbers, such as they were, didn’t seem to lie.
“Surely it couldn’t be…” he thought aloud, wiping his brow pointlessly with his soaking forearm. He paused for a minute to breathe deeply and consider the very real possibility that his newfound powers were becoming reflexive, which would be tight as hell . Figuring that he had some time to spare, he looked around the alley for some way of testing One For All in such a way that, ideally, he wouldn’t rip up a city block with his little experiment.
A jump? Probably not, if he didn’t want to end up swimming in the Hoshizaki’s asphalt.
A shout? Might be cool, if he didn’t blow out everyone’s eardrums on the entire block.
A punch? Come on, man. Seriously?
Nothing seemed like a particularly good idea, if he didn’t want to be liable for mass destruction, or worse, but that didn’t diminish his need to try. Whatever he did needed to be concentrated, but indirect. Small, but explosive. Something like…
He glanced at his phone again. 9:49. Time was running out, and he was getting flustered. Flustered enough that he strongly considered throwing his…
Oh. Oh, HELL yeah.
Stifling the urge to toss his phone into the stratosphere, he looked around for something that he could send skyward. Spotting a nearby trash can, he quickly grabbed a lid before reconsidering at the thought of it careening back to earth like a buzzsaw with a bone to pick. Instead, he grabbed a bag from the can, figuring that this experiment was for the greater good and that he could stand to get just a little bit of tetanus if it meant progressing this process at a faster rate. Mercifully devoid of sharp objects, the bag could only stink in his hands as he retreated to a spot in the alley that was clear of overhead impediments. He breathed in, slowly at first, then sharply and rapidly as he prepared himself.
“Okay,” he finally said to himself, “You got this.” He took three quick steps forward, rotated his arm, and released the trash directly into the guardrail of Hoshizaki Overpass. It splattered violently against the concrete, and Mirio winced at his mistake.
“...Shit,” he groaned, “Bad release. That was a bad release.” He looked around to ensure that no one could see him, then grabbed another bag. “Good idea, bad release. That’s all.” He returned to his position and braced himself. This time, he would plant his feet firmly in place instead of trying to get a running start. In that way that teenage boys do, he convinced himself that that would make all the difference. He took a deep breath, focused his mind, and put his plan, such as it was, in motion.
“Trash… uh… Smash!” he shouted to the heavens. He squatted, spun his arm, then arose with as much explosive power as he could muster as he opened his fist. In an instant, the bag was sailing into the sweltering and unforgiving atmosphere like a missile. An instant later, Mirio could no longer see it at all, as though it had disappeared entirely. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he tried to regain sight of the unfortunate refuse, then, realizing that he couldn’t, smiled broadly. His smile turned into a chuckle, which turned into a laugh, which turned into a raucous, full-body hooting noise that seemed to suck all of the doubt out of him with every spasm of his diaphragm. He reclined against a wall to regain his composure, but couldn’t stop smiling.
“Having fun?” a weak voice chimed in from the entrance to the alley. Mirio bolted upright to see a rail-thin shell of a man he had come to know very well. His sunken eyes and broad, jagged smile did their best to communicate amiability, but his hollow, ragged body was that of a man operating on borrowed time. If one could see beneath his circus tent of a shirt, they would immediately catch a glimpse of enormous telltale scars plaguing his abdomen; scars that told a story of a battle to the death without words or pictures.
Scars that had very nearly undone the greatest hero the world had ever seen.
“All Might!” Mirio gasped as he approached his mentor. “Are you okay?”
All Might chuckled weakly to himself. “Oh, don’t worry about me, young Mirio. Just needed a bit more time to relax on my walk here. You’ll know how it is, one day.”
“Heh,” Mirio responded, limply kicking some dust up with his shoe. “Erm… How long have you been standing there?”
“Oh, just long enough to know that there’s a young man back here doing things he’s not supposed to,” All Might remarked with a smile. “What, exactly, that entails, I can only imagine.”
“Sounds gross, when you say it like that.”
All Might began to laugh vehemently at this, only to promptly cough up a cartoonish amount of blood.
“Oh, jeez!” Mirio gasped, pulling a gym towel from his backpack. “Here, please take this. I haven’t used it yet.”
All Might raised one hand, and, with the other, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the blood from his mouth. After a moment, he cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and flexed every muscle in his body simultaneously, transforming himself into the hulking man mountain that everyone knew and loved. Mirio, admittedly, felt a great sense of relief at this, but also a sharp twinge of guilt. While he hadn’t been the one to completely undo All Might, he was, at the very least, responsible for taking the man’s power away from him.
As if reading Mirio’s mind, All Might clapped him heavily on the shoulder and laughed a trademark All Might chortle. “Think nothing of it, boy!” he said. “One way or another, I wasn’t going to be young forever. Besides, I quite enjoy not being the center of attention, sometimes, if you can believe it.”
Mirio smiled brightly again. “I don’t believe it,” he laughed.
“Sharp lad,” All Might said, winking at him. “Now, who’s ready to get sweaty?”
“Funny,” Aizawa muttered, thumbing through his folder rhetorically. “If I remember correctly, I told you that I was going to be late this morning because I had a meeting with Principal Nedzu, to discuss, among other things, Mirio’s training.”
“Heh,” All Might coughed, looking away from the table. “You might be right. I don’t really-”
“No, no. I’m right,” Aizawa answered confidently and coolly. He set down his folder with purpose and reached into his pocket. “Oh, yes. Here it is.” Calmly, he produced an almost comically hacky voice recorder from his pocket and set it on top of the folder before pressing “play.” Immediately, All Might’s voice could be heard booming from the speakers, rattling them with his unmitigated volume.
“-and so the goat says to the farmer, ‘Where am I? In Ohio?! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“... Are you done?” came the voice of Aizawa in reply. “I called you in to tell you something important. If I wanted to hear jokes, I’d-”
“Call your GIRLFRIEND?!” All Might cackled madly at his own joke and took the better part of a full minute to calm himself. He sighed, sniffed loudly in satisfaction, then continued. “Sorry, old sport. You had something you wanted to tell me?”
“Yes. Thank God. I have a meeting this morning with the principal. Shouldn’t be too long. I’d say we should be done around 10:30, 11 at the latest.”
“Really? Why wasn’t I invited to this little meeting of the minds, eh?”
“Couldn’t say for certain, but the principal does like his one-on-one meetings, where he can get them. Besides, we have orientation in a few months. Should give us plenty of time to gather more data about Mirio’s progress. Be sure you touch base with Sir Nighteye before then. Heaven knows nobody else can reach him.”
“Oh, you know that old so-and-so. Dour as a widow and sour as a lemon. I’m surprised you two don’t get along better!”
“Yes, well. Opposites attract, I guess. At any rate, before I lose your exceptionally short-lived attention, I want your reassurance that you won’t start training with Mirio until I get there.”
“Well, I mean… certainly a little physical education won’t hurt anybody, right?”
“All Might. We do this right, or we don’t do it at all.”
“Oooooooooooh… alright, old sport. Twist my arm, why don’t you?”
“All Might.”
“Yes, yes! I promise, chum!”
“I sincerely appreciate it. And All Might? You know you don’t have to approach me in disguise, yes?”
“Oh, well… Glory days, and all that.”
"Well, then,” Aizawa actually stammered as he shut the recorder off. “I think we all get the picture.” The air in the room became toxic with newfound silence. All Might nervously stroked the back of his neck as Aizawa stared triumphantly ahead.
“Well…” Yuki began calmly. “I’m guessing the two of you didn’t listen, then.”
Mirio buried his head in his hands. He was, at the very least, grateful that All Might’s secret seemed to be safe. But, on the other hand, his own secrets were coming to light in that dreaded way that makes one’s parents disappointed rather than angry. He wanted to think of something, anything, to say that would save face with his mother, but he knew her well enough to know that she didn’t need to punish him in any way other than this: the agony of revealing his own misdeeds out loud.
“I’m sorry, mom…” he said weakly, on the verge of tears for the umpteenth time this evening alone.
“No, wait,” All Might chimed in, noticeably devoid of his usual joviality and approaching something that finally seemed like sincerity. “Don’t blame young Mirio. Please. I gave my word to Aizawa, to Sir Nighteye, to Principal Nedzu, and to your wonderful family that I would follow the rules. That I would trust in the process. And that I would…” he trailed off as he stared at the floor. “That I would keep Mirio safe. I broke that promise today. And, well…” He stood up at this, bumping the table with his mountainous kneecaps, and bowed. “I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart.”
“No!” Mirio cried out, tears now streaming freely down his face once more. He stood up and bowed in turn. “It was my fault! You all trusted me to accept this responsibility, and I blew it! Please, forgive me!”
There was silence again, broken only by Mirio’s occasional sniffles. Eventually, Yuki stood up, took one of Mirio’s hands, guiding him to the table. She then one of All Might’s, and forced them to limply chop each other on the head. The two behemoths stood straight, confused, before All Might began to belly-laugh at the gesture. As always, Mirio could scarcely contain himself in the face of All Might’s earth-shaking laughter, and he found himself laughing in response, in spite of himself. Yuki cracked a smile and bade them both take their seats once more.
“Now that the blame game is over,” she mused calmly, “I’d like to hear the rest of the story. Think you can handle it, Sugar Lump?”
Mirio wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded confidently. “Yes, ma’am.”
While he couldn’t deny that he needed the caloric intake, Mirio was regretting the decision to participate in the Saturday Morning Thick Boys breakfast, after his 500th burpee. Even with his recent revelatory experiment with the trash bags and the outstanding improvement to his run time, All Might’s circuit training regiment was as brutal as ever, thanks in large part to the fact that all of All Might’s 560 pounds insisted on being part of the circuit. Pushups? That’s an All Might on your back. Squats? Grab an All Might! Burpees? Well… There’s not really room for All Might in those, but they’re still just horrible.
“And, time!” All Might shouted as Mirio rounded out his final burpee. The boy collapsed in a heap against the brick wall as All Might checked his stopwatch. “Hmm…” he mused cartoonishly, staring at the time. “Say, good fellow! This time can’t be right! Have you been training without me, you scamp?”
“Heh…” Mirio panted, wiping his face off with a towel. “Actually, there’s something I should tell you.”
“Oh, indeed?” All Might beamed, reaching his hand out to help Mirio up. “Dish, my boy! I do so love tales of youthful vigor!”
Mirio, exhausted as he was, took All Might’s hand and stood briskly at attention. He chugged a bottle of water, took a deep breath, and dove right in. “Okay, so. First of all, I beat my run time this morning. But I didn’t just beat it. I beat it by a lot. I got here nine minutes faster than I usually do, and I did it without even trying.”
All Might laughed at this. “My goodness! That is a lot, for only two weeks of training!”
“Then, get this,” Mirio resumed, spinning All Might around to look at the overpass. “You see that stain on the guardrail, there?”
“Hmm… the one that looks like Jane Fonda?”
“Yeah, that one! I mean… I think so? I don’t know who that is, but I made that! I tossed a bag of trash and hit the overpass!”
“Huh… That’s, like… 400 meters away…” All Might shook his head and chose to ignore the fact that he was genuinely impressed. “I mean… no, sir! That is littering, and I do not approve!”
“No! I mean, yes! I mean… that one was a bad release! Look, I can show you what I did after I whiffed that one!” Without hesitation, Mirio returned to the trash cans and dug out another bag, taking his position at the back of the alley as he had before.
“Now, young Mirio,” All Might tried to interrupt. “That’s just disgusting, and I don’t just mean the littering-”
Before he could resume his thought, Mirio had begun to recreate his results from earlier. Only this time, something was different. This time, he was more exuberant. This time, he was more focused.
This time, he would deliberately channel One For All.
With nothing to go on but sheer desire in his heart, Mirio planted his feet, spun his arm, and began his release. Time seemed to move at a fraction of its normal speed as he spoke to nothing in particular until something like raw willpower spoke back to him. A vibrant blue light filled the alleyway, emanating from Mirio’s body itself. Like a propane fire, the light trailed away from him until it faded into translucent wisps whose ferocity filled Mirio’s eyes and ears. It felt powerful. It felt pure. It felt good as hell.
An instant that felt like an eternity later, Mirio launched the bag into the air. This time, he didn’t have a chance to watch it careen into the clouds, because it simply evaporated within a few dozen meters of travel. A warm, putrid scent of burning garbage filled the air, and as Mirio began to reflexively cover his nose, he noticed a profoundly sharp pain in his throwing arm. For a moment, it seemed tolerable, only to give way to an even sharper ache that radiated from shoulder to wrist.
“ Holy… ” the pair said in unison. Mirio rubbed his arm fruitlessly as he bent over in pain.
“Young Mirio,” All Might said after a moment of silence. “How did you do that?”
“Ah, jeez,” Mirio half responded, half grimaced. “I don’t even know, to be honest. I didn’t even notice I was getting better during training, this morning. But when I saw the times, I guess…”
“You could feel it, couldn’t you? Like it was calling to you. One For All.”
Mirio finally stood up straight again and stretched out his shoulder as the pain began to dissipate. “Yeah… Yeah! Something like that!”
All Might took a deep breath, then bear-hugged Mirio with arms like tree trunks, laughing all the way. Mirio, solidly built as he was, felt all the air crushing out of his lungs against All Might’s titanic, rock-hard pectorals. Unable to laugh completely, he settled for a befuddled chuckle as All Might swung him around like he weighed nothing at all.
“My boy!” he shouted with glee. “Don’t you see? You’re a natural!”
“You think so?” Mirio asked breathlessly, his smile becoming wider and wider with each passing moment.
“Son, I’ve been at this game for a long time! I know natural talent when I see it! And you’ve got that in spades! To say nothing of that youthful tenacity you’ve got burning within you! Why, I daresay you could be-”
“The next All Might?” Mirio chuffed as All Might finally set him down.
“Actually…” All Might mused, stroking his chin in deep thought. “That gives me an idea. Mirio, my lad. What time do you have?”
Mirio dutifully pulled his phone from his backpack and flipped it open. “10:52,” he responded, still smiling broadly.
“Oh, crumbs,” All Might said, snapping his fingers. “We shouldn’t. I mean, I’m already going to get an earful from Mr. Aizawa for letting you train early. But, well…”
“Come on!” Mirio said, pumping his fists in excitement. “Tell me!”
“Well… okay! I may be jumping the gun a little, here, but what do you say to trying out some quirk combinations?”
“What?! Seriously?!” Mirio literally jumped off the ground with pure glee. “You think I can?”
All Might laughed loudly. “I literally have no idea! Never had a quirk, myself! But you know, you never really know how much you can achieve until you try!”
“Yes! I’ll do it!” Mirio shouted, looking around the alleyway for a surface to permeate before realizing that he still had very little idea what he was doing. “Um… How do I..?”
“Oh… Right,” All Might said. “I never had a quirk to combine.”
There was an immediate decline in excitement as the pair mulled over how, exactly, to proceed. Time was running out quickly, and Aizawa wouldn’t stand for this kind of experimentation so early in Mirio’s training. After what seemed like forever, Mirio got an idea.
“What about my propulsion?” he offered. “Maybe if I channel One For All as I come back into form, I can propel myself with more force?”
“Well, it’s not a bad idea, per se,” All Might said. “But the thing is, young Mirio, One For All isn’t a quirk to be taken lightly. It’s easy to, well, go overboard, so to speak.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, my boy… you’re no doubt aware of what I’m capable of. But you see, I’ve had decades of training to learn how to mitigate my strength when I need to. You can’t imagine how many good dishes I broke, how many buildings I destroyed, how much infrastructure repair had to be billed to the government on my account, when I first started out. All because I didn’t know how to contain myself.”
“So, what did you do?”
“Heh heh,” All Might chuckled weakly. “The funny thing is, I’ve been at this so long, I barely remember how I started changing my power output. It’s just sort of… reflexive, at this point.”
“But aren’t I doing that already?” Mirio almost pleaded, not wanting to let this opportunity slip away. “You saw it yourself. I’m getting better already. Please! I can handle this!”
“I suppose…” All Might said nervously. “But I must insist that we decide how we’re going to keep your power in check, first. What we need is some kind of visualization. An image, if you will. Something to focus on that will correspond to your power output.”
They mused for another moment before Mirio said, “What about something like a fire hose?”
“Fire hose, eh? Explain.”
“You know,” Mirio answered impatiently. “You pull the handle all the way, and the nozzle releases water at maximum pressure. But if you only pull the handle a little bit…”
“Then you can control the pressure output!” All Might beamed before laughing giddily. “Now there’s a fresh idea, young Mirio! Now, all we need to figure out is timing…”
Mirio smiled and flashed a confident thumbs-up. “Timing, I can handle. I figure I just need to channel One For All the second that I return to physical form.”
“Very well!” All Might said, responding with his own thumbs-up. “Let quirk combination test number one commence! And then let’s never talk about it out loud so that we don’t get into heaps of trouble with our fuddy-duddy handlers!”
The pair clasped hands in agreement and enthusiasm.
“Go beyond!” Mirio began.
“ Plus Ultra! ” they shouted in unison.
“There’s a good lad! Now, where shall we test out this little hypothesis of ours?”
Mirio paused to consider this for a moment. If only there were some sort of area with a wall directly perpendicular to open air.
Oh. Right.
Immensely satisfied with himself, Mirio pointed silently at the rear wall of the alleyway and cocked his head to the side, waiting for approval.
“Oh. Right,” All Might said. “Well, hell! This seems like as good a place as any!” The pair high-fived and Mirio trotted to the entrance of the alley to take a running stance. “Remember, now!” All Might continued, “Control is key! Be the firehose! Or, the nozzle! Really, whatever keeps you under control and me out of an astonishing amount of trouble!”
Mirio closed his eyes to focus and chanted repeatedly, “Be the firehose.” When he was satisfied that he was ready, he charged full-tilt at the wall in front of him. Mere moments later, he launched himself from the ground and, with all the reflexiveness he had been cultivating over the past year, changed his body to its incorporeal state. Darkness overtook him immediately as the light of the sun passed through him. Relying only on instinct, he confidently fell through the brick wall and began the steady mental process of channeling One For All as he prepared himself for lift-off upon reincorporating.
“Just a little,” he thought soberly. “Be the firehose.”
As suddenly as darkness had become his state of being, Mirio became blindingly aware of the light emanating from his body once more. As calming as it was intense, the blue shimmer lit up the darkness like a vibrant beacon of hope and security. And it was at this point that Mirio’s focus was broken up by the appearance of shining yellow lights that seemed to pierce through his own iridescence and meet his gaze as he tumbled through solid matter itself. Time being as nebulous and strange as it was, in this state, Mirio had what seemed like exactly enough time to count eight pairs of lights, watching him in the darkness like…
Like eyes, ghostly and yet vivid all at once.
He could have sworn that the eyes had bodies attached to them, spectral and wavering, but by the time he had noticed this, he had already crossed the threshold of lost focus. Whomever or whatever they were, they didn’t seem to mean him any harm, and yet, basking in the unfamiliar glow of so many shining lights in the darkness, he could swear that they had souls attached to him. Souls that he could feel. Souls that were examining him, waiting to see what he would do next.
What he did next was explode forth from the alley wall in the span of a millisecond, leaving behind only a single pop of light and sound as his body was propelled into the open air like a human bullet. Even All Might, deceptively quick and nimble for his size, was left flummoxed by the sudden disappearance of his ward.
“... Mirio?” he stammered, trying to regain sight of the young man. As his eyes eventually locked onto Mirio’s spiraling body in the open skies above Chiba, his heart seemed to skip a beat. “Oh, hell…” he said to no one. “I’m in trouble.” Surging with terror and running on a lifetime of instinct, the giant charged with total abandon at the edge of the alleyway and put every ounce of strength he possessed into flinging himself after Mirio.
“And I guess you know the rest,” Mirio concluded somberly, still highly embarrassed.
“That sounds…” Yuki thought aloud. “Sugar Lump, have you ever hallucinated like that during a permeation, before?”
“I don’t think so,” he answered. “But, can I be honest?” The three adults nodded in unison. “It’s hard to remember anything before this,” he continued. “It feels like I’ve always had both of these quirks, even though it’s only been a couple of weeks. I don’t know how to explain it, but when I tapped into One For All, it felt like it’s always been there. And when I saw all those lights in the darkness, it didn’t just feel like they were watching me. I felt like… like someone was rooting for me. For once, I didn’t feel like such a failure.”
“Mirio Togata,” his mother said sternly. “You are not a failure. You are the bravest young man I’ve ever met. If you weren’t, I’d venture to say we wouldn’t be here. Isn’t that right, gentlemen?”
All Might gave a massive thumbs-up and said, “I’ve never doubted once that I picked the right successor, son! And if you want someone to root for you, then I’d say you needn’t look any further than your own mother!”
Yuki actually chuckled, in spite of herself. “Well said, All Might. Now, Mirio, sweetie. Are you okay?”
It occurred to Mirio, then, that he had blacked out during the event, and didn’t remember getting back to terra firma or coming home. He checked his person for injuries, then, figuring he must be fine if he had been able to come home, said, “I think so. Am I okay, All Might?”
“Good as gold, right as rain, and everything in between, my boy!” All Might laughed. “I managed to pluck you out of freefall, after you passed out, and guided you smoothly and safely back down to a safe landing.”
“You landed on a station wagon,” Aizawa remarked quickly.
“Yes, well,” All Might continued, “How many station wagons would it take to replace our boy Mirio, after all? Big fella was able to bathe himself, wasn’t he?” Aizawa said nothing except to sigh heavily in exasperation.
“Then, if you’re okay,” Yuki continued, “I’d like you to apologize properly and like the distinguished young man you are.” Mirio knew what this meant: no crying, this time. Pity wasn’t something this world would offer him, as he grew older, so it was a concept he needed to distance himself from, where possible.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mirio sniffled, standing up for his final cavalcade of humiliation. One by one, he bowed to the three of them.
“I’m very sorry, All Might,” he began. All Might laughed wistfully to himself and tousled Mirio’s hair.
“No more sorry than I am, young Mirio,” he said. “I daresay we could both stand to learn a bit of impulse control.”
Mirio smiled weakly and turned to Aizawa. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Aizawa,” he said, fearing the dour man’s stern reprisal.
“You’re a young man,” Aizawa sighed. “Forethought isn’t necessarily your strong suit.” There was a noticeable thudding of the table as All Might intended to kick Aizawa gently, managing only to bump his gigantic knee on the bottom of the table. Aizawa glared impatient daggers at his counterpart before looking at Yuki, then back at Mirio. “But, I guess it’s not really any of our strong suits when we men are your age.”
All Might howled with laughter. “I should say not! The stories I could tell you about this guy as a kid!”
“You didn’t know me as a kid,” Aizawa grumbled, attempting to keep it together.
“Yes, but I suspect that you weren’t so innocent,” Yuki replied. “And you certainly weren’t on track to become the next All Might.” Aizawa shrugged to give her the point as All Might stared directly at him and high-fived himself.
Finally, and perhaps most dauntingly, Mirio turned to Yukihime and bowed as deeply as he could.
“I am very sorry, Mother,” he choked through a dry and jagged throat. He remained bowing as she spoke softly.
“You’re growing up so fast, Mirio Togata,” she said. “One minute, you’re wearing a strainer on your head and calling yourself The Fearsome Five-Year-Old, and the next, I’ve got pro heroes in and out of my home pushing papers around for me to sign and asking me for more and more time away from you because you’re going to be the next All Might.” She sighed, brushed a tear from her eye, and chopped Mirio on the head softly. “So, if I am going to miss out on all this time with my sweet Sugar Lump, he had better be using that time wisely. And that means listening to the people trying to help you.” She used her hand to guide his face back up to meet hers. “If you’re going to spend your life doing the right thing, do it in the right way.”
Mirio wiped his tears (and a fair amount of snot) on his shirt sleeve before saluting her. “Yes, ma’am!”
Yuki smiled at her beloved son and patted his face. “And, with all that out of the way, I assume you have a disciplinary measure in place, Mr. Aizawa?”
“Oh, well, more or less,” Aizawa remarked, pulling out the fattest folder that Mirio had ever seen from his briefcase. “There are a few details I could hammer out…” All Might suddenly began to cough and shot a pleading look at Aizawa, who began packing the bulk of it back up. “Well, that is,” he continued, “I can hammer those out tonight, at home. Provided Mirio understands what he did wrong and why he needs to be disciplined..?” Mirio nodded at this. “Then all I really need is for you to sign this nondisclosure agreement, Mrs. Togata.”
“Another one?” Yuki remarked, fiddling with her glasses. “Didn’t I sign one of these, already?”
“It’s complicated,” Aizawa responded. As he spoke, an increasingly antsy All Might stood up and hurried out, coughing softly to himself.
“Apologies!” he managed to call back. “Summer pollen, and all!” No one seemed to be paying attention, which was largely by design. Aizawa was accurate in his assessment that a non-disclosure agreement needed to be signed, regarding any such training-related incidents. But the timing of the request was such that it deflected attention from a dark reality lurking within the body of the Symbol of Peace, belied by his ever dapper and inspiring demeanor and, for now, revealed to the world only by a pernicious cough.
Mirio vacillated between sleep and wakefulness that night. His body continued to ache all over from the intensity of the past two weeks, which made it difficult to ever get comfortable. But, in reality, it wasn’t the pain or knowledge that it was only going to get worse, after Mr. Aizawa and Sir Nighteye finished hashing out the severity of the previous day’s mistake. Rather, every time he managed to slip into the bizarre and unknowable realm between the waking world and the world of dreams, he was seized by an innate and disquieting sense that he was being watched. Several times, he could even swear that he saw the eyes watching him in the darkness behind his own eyelids. Try as he might to shake the sensation, it came for him every time he closed his eyes.
Mercifully, the sun would rise on a Sunday off of training, soon, and he would at least have the day to spend with his family and try to get back to something that felt like normal. But, deep down, whether or not he or anyone else was prepared to accept it, Mirio knew that there was no turning back from this. Life would never be normal again.
And despite his efforts to ignore the oncoming storm of reality, Mirio Togata was being watched. Closely.