Uraraka Ochako, though Izuku Midoriya did not yet know it, was correct in her perceptions: U.A. Academy was not for plodders, and foremost, there was something oddly wrong with him. The willow tree lilt of his shoulders, like bricks slid across the planes of his clavicle, and the decidedly dreary clouds over jewel-tone gaze— he swayed on his feet as he marched sedately to Aizawa's homeroom class. Izuku reflected on the fact that, if he had an energy meter like a videogame, he'd already be drooping from canary yellow to flame orange. His phone felt heavy in his hand.

He passed his homeroom class slowly, didn't stop to peer in, and ducked around a series of blue-gray corridors to weave methodically towards the faculty lounge. Izuku stared firmly at the ground, lips worried into a thin crease. All Might is in there, he kneaded his thumb and forefinger together, rubbing an invisible worry stone, maybe I'll talk to him about… no. Midoriya's brows furrowed, and the trickle of heroic determination which had swept away the dense uncertain fog began warming his body. These questions are so stupid. Why am I like this? It was an odd dichotomy which he settled on uncomfortably.

Despite that thought, he picked up the speed, and skidded towards the faculty lounge door. He swallowed, glanced down to the scrubbed tile— so clean he could see the whisper of worry on his face— and then back to the yellow-oak door. It took three solid seconds before he raised his fist, knocked thrice, and heard the grumbled nasal of All Might's voice.

The door slid open before he could reach for the handle, and Uraraka gave him a warm smile as she ducked out of the lounge. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyebrows thin and risen in high arcs. He started, and the pair exchanged a nervous pair of synchronized, wilting half-waves and terse greetings.

"H-hey, Uraraka," Deku stammered, shuffling backwards. Her cheeks blazed a little brighter, she knit her lips, and glanced down.

"Hi Deku," she practically whispered, before scurrying off.

He swallowed. She seemed weird. Then again, he grabbed the door before it swung shut, we haven't really talked in awhile. Everything will be normal during lunch, probably, he sighed nervously, scratching the back of his head and casting a rearview glance towards the receding girl, then again, she wasn't in Hosu with Todoroki and Iida. She still thinks Endeavour caught the Hero Killer. Maybe… Maybe I'll tell her—

"Young man," started All Might from inside, eyeing him under heavy set brows and wide, uncanny black eyes, "please, sit down. I have a pot of tea," his long fingers grasped the teapot's handle, before pouring steadily into a pair of cups, "please drink some with me. It isn't really my normal style," his lightning bolt bangs lilted as he tilted his head, watching the stream dribble the last drops of tea into the cup, "but principal Nezu recommended it for these kinds of conversations. He's paternal at heart, so I trust him, even if he has a habit of rambling."

"Y-yes, sir," Midoriya pressed his back against the door until it clicked shut behind him, and then sat across All Might.

All Might's baggy suit pooled in his elbows and knees, wrinkling across the pectorals and crinkling into a mess at his abdomen, straight pinstripes a salad of squiggles and bumps, disguising his injury. He was careful and methodical when he twisted his ribs, gingerly avoiding the proximity of the purple-red mess of an impact crater. Izuku winced, and covered up the expression with a long, slow sip of tea.

"You wanted to talk to me about One for All," Midoriya started, brows furrowed as he set down his cup.

"That I did, young Midoriya," he sighed, did the same, and lounged across the back cushions of the couch with a groan— he'd quirked his ribs funny. "You know that One for All is passed down from user to user, right?" He closed one eye, peering into Izuku's soul with the other.

"Yeah," he mumbled, shoulders stiffening up to his ears and fingers gripping the knees of his pants intently and tightly. He didn't make eye contact with All Might's piercing blue pupil, like ice which bled into the soul by sheer osmosis. "I sort of surmised that when you gave it to me. You've said it before," he broke away a hand and scratched the back of his head.

"Well, I suppose I need to tell you how it came to be. But first, my injury," both eyes were suddenly open, and the glare and glaring expectation was obvious: All Might expected a terse, electric line of eyesight. The whole room suddenly felt on fire. "You know it was five years ago when I received this injury, but what you don't know is that it is your fight too." All Might, the All Might Izuku knew, would break away and massage his temples, or inflamed, jump into his muscle form with a burst of steam, but this All Might was intense and unyielding. A stone wall, granite, sheer, unbroken to erosion. "His name is All for One."

Izuku's spine jumped, like he'd been ran clear through with an electric wire. He could hear the tinny rattle of his own breaths. "A-All for One," he tasted the name. The syllables were sickly sweet, like rotting fruit.

Sagely, All Might slowly began to recall the origin of Izuku's quirk, the same supple electricity which made his veins sing like bells, his body scream with power. The pain he'd endured was like mortar to brick, the egg-in-microwave silly metaphor he chanted to himself slowly building muscle out of resin instead of fiber, bones of steel instead of stone. As he went on, Izuku had to drink more tea, and whether he knew it or not, was pressing against the back of the couch so adamantly he hoped he'd phase through it. There was a tremble to his fingertips, and he quashed it by shoving his hands into each armpit and hoping the world stopped spinning for a second.

It was a split moment in time when he felt the same familiar slur in words as All Might continued his story, like tongues running over knife scarlet-spattered blades, and blood moons in black nights, shattered visages mumbling, rambling forward, his blood curdling into cheese then stone… Stain…

"Our quirk may be a gift from a villain," All Might exhaled, "but it is no doubt a thing that shouldn't come under the thumb of a criminal or ne'er do well again. You have to be careful with this power of yours, young man," All Might leered forward.

Izuku nodded slowly. What would I do before? Izuku screamed to himself mentally, lower lip almost breaking into a quiver. What would I do? I'd… I'd be serious. Cool. Determined. I want to be a hero, god damn it! His face fell into one of firmness. He wanted to be a fucking hero. What on earth was with the abstraction between himself and Deku lately? They were the same person! Izuku wanted to scream, but the black inky space of All Might's firm watch didn't yield any room for air.

"I have to fight All for One," he breathed, "he can steal any quirk and gift it to others… that's probably what the Nomu's are," Izuku's voice was grim, but his eyes looked almost on the verge of tears. "I'm just…"

"It's a long story," All Might said, tone conciliatory, "one that has been continuing since the birth of quirks. All for One's longevity is something of a marvel," he admitted, scratching the back of his head, "but ultimately, there are two forces in this world, Izuku Midoriya," All Might winced, blood trickling quietly from the corner of his mouth as he rested his elbows on his lap, and leaned forward with steely intent. "You know them both already, I'm sure."

Izuku's mouth was dry with uncertainty. He offered a nod, but his mumbling habit had transcended into crossing channels of mental thought. Good and evil aren't really real, but they might be, and I just don't know, or maybe I'm going crazy, and maybe I don't deserve All for One, maybe I need to pass it onto someone better before All Might— SHUT UP. That train of thought skidded to a halt before mortality was touched with a ten foot pole.

"Justice and injustice," All Might let the words hang stagnant. Golden light pooled in the corners of the lounge, and froze the space between them in sun. "All for One is an injustice against humanity. A plague. No one person should have the power he does," All Might's teal specks for eyes glanced down to his balled hands. "He gets to choose his own order. But we get to stand against it, young man. One for All lets us do that, and it is for this reason that it is so important you keep the most sacred of secrets."

He glanced to Izuku. "The Hero Killer had abhorrent methods," he started, "but he wasn't entirely wrong. Heroes are not free of corruption. You need to understand the responsibility of One for All's secret, and the weight of the quirk and the title of Symbol of Peace. I believe in you, young Midoriya," his gaze pierced into his soul.

The harsh sunlight framed the jagged, broken edges of All Might's silhouette in liquid ambrosia, his face firm set in stone and the tiniest of encouraging smiles, the same determined I am here! ringing in his posture and dark matter sclera. It was so hard to believe he was as real and pure as he was; someone like that was truly existent as Olympian and great as he; and that the tiny jade speck that was himself— stupid Izuku Midoriya— would one day live up to it. Surpass it, in his words. He settled for awe, and tucked away the insecurity for later. Standing in the shadow of All Might was like being in the sun. Izuku didn't move for a long while, nearly crying at the sheer joy of being in his presence, being able to have his approval. It made the past weeks seem like a foggy reverie, the same visions as though he were staring out the window in class. Utterly not-real.

Izuku had heard so many things in the span of a half-hour, but there were four phrases which clanged in his mind after the fact, frying pans clapping together. After the meeting, he typed them all in the same note on his phone as before, his soliloquy to himself. Notes to quirkless Izuku Midoriya.

There are two forces in this world, injustice and justice (?)

All for One is a plague, because he chooses his own order

The Hero Killer is right

All Might believes in me, Izuku Midoriya

His spirit was clouded. Everything held such a new level of weightiness, and for the first time he almost disagreed with his idol.

But the thoughts dissipated as he read the last comment over and over, and he let his soul sing.