(Rei POV)
I hit the ground hard, knees scraping against the dirt and gravel. My hands trembled violently, uselessly, like they didn't belong to me. The air was thick and wrong, humming with pressure that made it hard to even lift my head.
But when I did—when I forced myself to look—I saw him.
The myth.
The nightmare.
All For One.
The same name Dad had mentioned on rare nights, usually when I asked about the darker days of hero society. He never liked talking about it. His voice always changed—got quieter, heavier. He said that some villains were more like forces of nature than people.
He never said one would appear in front of us.
This… thing standing before me was no story.
He wasn't just a name in a textbook or an old villain warning told by cautious parents. He was real. Towering. Cloaked in black. Like the world had torn itself open and let the fear crawl out to take shape.
And Dad—
I turned my head toward the tree where Dad had fallen.
He was slumped there, back against the bark, his limbs loose and unmoving. His head lolled slightly to the side. His eyes were closed.
My breath hitched, throat closing as my voice shrank into a whisper. It didn't sound like me. It barely sounded like anything.
I opened my mouth again, but no words came out. Only silence. My lungs burned. My chest felt tight, like something invisible was squeezing it from all sides.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to move. To leap to my feet and rush to his side. To wake up from this nightmare and hear Mom calling from the kitchen like she always did when we got home late.
But the man in black stepped forward, slow and calm, like there was no rush. Like he already knew how this would end.
"So fragile," he murmured, stopping in front of Dad's body. His voice was deep, smooth, like polished steel. "A shame. He would've made a fine tool… if he'd just been more obedient."
A crack ripped through my chest.
"Shut up!"
The words ripped free without thought, raw and jagged, trembling with rage. With something worse—fear.
He turned his head slightly, just enough for me to feel his full attention like a spotlight pressing down on my soul.
Amusement radiated off him.
"You have spirit," he said. "That's good. You'll need it, in the days to come."
I scrambled backward, boots scraping against dirt and root. My limbs barely responded, heavy like I was wading through water. I tried to summon my quirk, anything—my chest buzzed with that same electric tingling, the heat I knew so well.
A translucent hand flickered out from my side. It twitched in the air, unstable, but it was there.
My ghost hand.
All For One paused. His unseen eyes studied it with interest.
"Fascinating," he said. "A most peculiar ability… and one I've observed with growing interest for years."
Years?
My stomach twisted. "What… what do you mean?"
He took a step closer. I could hear the faint crunch of grass under his boots.
"You've been watched, Rei. Since long before you even knew what power was. And now… the time has come."
"No!" I forced myself to my knees. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"
I threw my ghost hand forward—it snapped out like a whip, aiming straight for his chest.
But just before it connected, a wave of shadow pulsed from his form. The hand buckled mid-air, cracking like glass before it shattered and vanished into smoke.
He smiled, barely.
"You don't have a choice."
My legs burned as I pushed myself up. I turned, sprinting, each step an explosion of panic. I didn't know where I was going. To the car, maybe. Maybe Dad's phone. I had to call someone—Mom, a hero, anyone.
I didn't make it far.
The ground beneath my feet twisted. A black tendril surged up from the soil like a serpent, coiling fast around my ankle. I yelped as it yanked me off-balance. My back slammed into the dirt. The breath was knocked out of me.
I clawed at the earth. My fingers dug into cold stone and grit. I twisted, kicked, anything to get free—but it was no use.
He stood over me, calm, composed, as if this was just another step in a long plan.
"Don't worry," he said, almost gently. "You'll learn in time. All that anger… that pain… it can serve something greater."
"No—!"
Darkness surged.
I screamed as the world vanished into black.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(AFO POV)
Rei, the child who had sparked my interest all those years ago, now lay still at my feet—unconscious, quiet, vulnerable. The final echoes of his scream still rang faintly in the air, like the fading strike of a bell long after it's been silenced.
I looked down at him and allowed myself a moment of reflection.
He is like a rare fruit—one that grew unnoticed high on the branch. Untouched, unspoiled, left to soak in the sun and the seasons. No interference. No tampering. Left alone, it ripens. Slowly. Carefully. Until the moment it is ready to fall into waiting hands.
And now?
Now, the ripening is nearly complete.
The boy's power… raw, yes. Still fractured and uncertain. But beneath the surface? A storm. A deep, tremoring pulse, one that's grown stronger with every year. Like a heartbeat buried beneath layers of flesh and bone—beating faster, louder, calling out.
Calling out to something he cannot yet name.
He doesn't realize how loud he's become.
Nor how many have been listening.
I knelt beside him, moving with the precision of someone handling something precious—and dangerous. A lock of hair clung to his damp forehead, matted from sweat and adrenaline. I brushed it back gently, like a father might.
His brow twitched. Even unconscious, his body remembered. The fear was still there—etched into the tightness of his jaw, the tension in his limbs.
Good.
Fear is a seed. Properly sown and nurtured, it can sprout into many things. Strength. Rage. Despair. Each a useful branch, depending on how one chooses to shape it.
"You'll do fine, boy," I whispered, the words barely more than breath. "They'll think they made you strong. They'll take pride in your growth."
I smiled beneath the shadows of my mask.
"But I will be the one to guide your edge. The one to make you into a blade. And when the time comes—I will be the one to swing it."
The familiar sound of shifting mist rose behind me, gentle and rhythmic like a tide rolling in. Kurogiri's presence formed slowly, his glowing eyes materializing through the swirling darkness. His timing, as always, was impeccable.
"Prepare the facility," I said, my gaze never leaving Rei's face. "We begin tonight."
"Yes, Master," came the smooth, loyal reply.
The portal began to widen, curling outward like ink blooming in water. He didn't stir. His body had surrendered to unconsciousness, but his mind would wake again—eventually. And when it did, I would be there.
So many years. So many steps, threads, careful plans laid with surgical precision.
The heroes believed the danger was past. The world let its shoulders relax. They tucked their children in with stories of peace and promises of protection.
Let them.
Let them bask in the illusion of safety.
Let them celebrate their little victories, their quiet days, their golden hours.
Because peace… peace is a lullaby. Sweet and fleeting. A song that ends.
And I?
I am the silence that follows.
The silence before the scream.
Let the storm begin.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I walked behind Kurogiri, my trusted assistant
The underground facility welcomed us in silence, humming faintly with the quiet pulse of machines buried deep beneath the earth. It was a place untouched by sunlight, hidden even from whispers. The kind of place where things were broken down… and rebuilt.
Kurogiri carried the boy carefully, almost reverently, into the central chamber. Around us, lights flickered on—motion-sensors triggering with our presence. I followed him down the corridor, my steps echoing with slow purpose.
As we passed a sealed door, I let my gaze linger.
Shigaraki…
His name drifted through my mind like ash on the wind. My successor, my weapon. Not yet complete. Not yet stable. So much power, so little control.
A visit was overdue. But that would have to wait.
The boy came first.
He is a different kind of tool. Subtle. Unripe, yes—but full of strange promise. Like a locked vault with no key, daring me to crack it open. His quirk… it doesn't scream with violence like Shigaraki's. It whispers. Quietly. Obediently. Perfect for shaping.
The doors to the procedure room slid open with a hiss. Cold light poured out, bathing the floor in sterile white.
"Kurogiri, begin preparing the monitoring systems," I ordered. "I want every shift in neurological activity tracked. Every flicker of his quirk cataloged."
Kurogiri gave a silent nod and vanished into mist, passing the boy gently to the awaiting restraints. They were not crude chains or harsh clamps—no, I didn't need to harm the boy. Not yet. I needed him intact. I needed him to believe, for a time, that he could still choose.
That the world hadn't already chosen for him.
I turned from the door, letting the shadows rise around me again.
Let them celebrate peace in the world above. Let them build their schools, raise their young, sing the songs of heroes.
I am building something, too.
And when it is ready—
The world will listen.
Whether it wants to or not.