I feel a hand on my back. Small, I looked up and there he was, Nezu.
His dark eyes meet my blue
Then I realize how miserable I probably look. I guess the dream impacted me more than I thought. It clings to me, making my chest feel tight.
God, how annoying.
I hate this. Hate feeling vulnerable, hate showing weakness, especially in front of someone like Nezu who notices everything. So I pull myself together.
I stand up, legs sturdy beneath me. My hands sheathing Excalibur inside Avalon.
It worked. It worked. It worked. I can heal other people.
The thought circles in my mind. I gaze at Aizawa-sensei's face. He looks less tired now.
"Aizawa," Nezu's voice rings out in the office. "You may leave now."
There's a gentle dismissal in his tone.
Aizawa nods towards Nezu, then he looks back to me. His dark eyes linger for a moment. He shifts his weight, testing his newly healed body, it's then that I realize that I haven't seen him blink yet. Finally, his voice emerges low and rough with as much emotion as a wet bag.
"Thank you, Arthur."
The words hang in the air between us. I smile.
"It's my pleasure," I answer back, and I mean it too.
He nods once more, a final acknowledgment passing between us. Then he turns and leaves the room, his footsteps barely audible on the floor. The door clicks behind him as he closes it, the sound soft.
"So," Nezu says as he flings himself to his chair with ease, the movement comical. He settles in, tiny paws steepling together. "You can heal other people. I thought your quirk was dragon heart, not that I mind, but I can only get more intrigued about those weapons of yours."
The statement hangs in the air, not quite a question but definitely an invitation. He's giving me an opening, a chance to explain, to share the truth about Excalibur and Avalon. About what they really are, what I really am.
I say nothing. The words stick in my throat. I don't think I'm ready to tell him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I only hear our hearts beat in the room. Without those we're in complete silence.
Said silence stretches. Nezu's expression doesn't change, except for a small almost imperceptible twitch of his whiskers, then I realize he understands, his next words proof of that.
"But I'm not going to push obviously."
There's no judgment in his tone Just acceptance. I look down to Avalon and Excalibur, my fingers clutching the hilt like I usually did when I was nervous, but I'm not hardening my grip, I simply feel them there. Maybe my family could include him too.
After the acceptance comes awkwardness.
. Turns out crying for a few seconds in front of another person doesn't help tension or anything. Who knew?
I shift my weight from foot to foot.
"So..." Nezu begins, breaking the silence. "Do you want to say something, like how much can you heal? It looks like injuries are simple enough, Aizawa's legs were completely restored, after all, but what about blood loss or disease? Chronic conditions?"
"Don't know," I reply. I'm wondering myself now. I had never grown sick since gaining Avalon, not so much as a cold or a headache. And I had never suffered any major blood loss. Most fights ended before I took any damage at all.
But could Avalon cure cancer? Heal genetic disorders?
I genuinely don't know.
"Well then," I cough, the sound rough and tired, I fiially speak up. "I'm gonna go back to bed. See you... tomorrow? Today? What time is it anyway?"
"3:04."
"Then today, see you later today Nezu."
"Bye lad," Nezu says warmly.
I turn and leave.
Narration POV
After Arthur left Nezu's office, Nezu himself sits on his chair, reclining back and forth in a slow, rhythm. His mind clearly elsewhere.
"So he can heal," he muttered to himself, the words barely above a whisper in the empty office. "Would he be able to heal All Might?"
The question hangs in the air. All Might's injury, the wound that had carved away his power, his time, his very future as the Symbol of Peace, could it be undone? And even if it did would it matter? All Might had already passed One for All, all All Might had were it's last embers. Although could the embers be reignited?
"But I don't want to make him feel like I'm using him," Nezu continues, his voice troubled.
He had taken him out of the vigilante life because he had seen him as kindred spirit, Arthur had a heroic heart, impossible strength and unmatched abilities but he was still a child.
He didn't want to implicate Arthur in a grand scheme, he wanted him lead a happy, healthy fulfilling life, but what did Arthur consider happy?
"I should probably ask All Might first," Nezu concludes, nodding to himself. "Then Arthur himself."
Nezu grabs his phone once more from his vest, the device tiny in his paws. He scrolls through contacts until landing on All Might's phone number. His finger hovers over the call button.
Then he hesitates. It's late, or early, depending on perspective. And for the first time in a long time, Nezu feels troubled. It always seems to be that way when it came to Arthur.
"Tomorrow," he mutters, setting the phone down on his desk. "I'll ask him tomorrow."
------------------------------------------
In another place entirely, far from U.A.'s halls and Nezu's careful contemplations, a room barely lit by the cold glow of multiple monitors exists in shadow.
A man sits within this darkness, his face deformed beyond recognition by old injuries that should have killed him years ago. Scars twist and pull at flesh. His face is a ruin, except for his mouth that seemed to be in a constant enlarged grin.
Monitors lay in front of him, each displaying different feeds. The only sound in said room, is that of his finger, tapping against his chair.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A habit even the man himself didn't know he had.
One of the monitors, positioned at eye level, shows a bar, dingy and dark even by the standards of the criminal underworld. In which, only two people lay, their figures grainy but recognizable. Tomura Shigaraki and Kurogiri. His disciples. His successors. His future, perhaps.
"He has grown quieter," the man says, his voice rasping through damaged vocal cords. "That is good."
His eyes lock onto Shigaraki more specifically, studying every detail visible on the grainy feed. His gaze travels down to Shigaraki's left arm, more specifically, the place where his left arm should be, where now only an empty sleeve hangs, pinned uselessly against his side.
The loss has changed him. Tempered him. The loss of his arm has taught him what All for One's words never could, that actions have consequences, that heroes would do anything to stave them off. After all what more insane person could there be than one that would sacrifice themselves for others.
No, all heroes, true heroes were insane. The man fervently believed that. Heroes believe they have a certain morality tucked away. They think they are better than villains. When really they were less.
"But that boy's quirk seems to be troubling," he continues, his tone shifting.
His eyes move to another monitor, slightly upturned from the one that showed the bar. This screen is brighter, displaying a frozen image from a very public event.
There a simple video of the Sports Festival loops, the same sequence playing over and over again. Arthur Pendragon moving with impossible speed. The image stops, frozen on a frame that captures the boy mid-strike.
"Arthur Pendragon," All for One says, speaking the name, like it would make the boy drop dead on the spot. "You seem like you're going to be a thorn in my side."
The boy is an anomaly. Too strong, too fast, too skilled for his age.
"That strength, that speed," he muses, leaning forward slightly, studying the frozen image with an intensity that borders on obsession. "I can't be sure but..."
His hand travels to the monitor slowly, almost reverently, fingers trembling with barely suppressed emotion. Anger. Frustration. Obsession. All mixed together.
"Are you the Ninth?" he whispers, as if wanting no one to hear him. "Is that sword your original quirk?"
Could All Might have passed it on already? Could this boy, this Arthur Pendragon, be carrying the power that rightfully belongs to him? The possibility gnaws at All for One's mind. It would explain the strength, the speed, the raw physical prowess that seems to dwarf even experienced pro heroes.
But something doesn't fit. The sword complicates things.
The uncertainty is maddening.
A black tendril suddenly extends from his nails, the quirk activating on emotion. It shoots forward with vicious speed, smashing into the screen with enough force to shatter it completely. Glass and plastic and circuitry explode outward, sparks flying, the image of Arthur Pendragon fracturing into a thousand pieces before winking out entirely.
"I'll kill you all the same," All for One snarls, his voice dropping, "and take back what is mine."
A giant screen suddenly turns on behind him, the light washing over the destroyed monitor and scattered debris. A doctor appears on it, his face oversized and distorted by the camera angle, eyes wide.
"Master," the doctor begins, his voice pitched high with barely contained excitement, speaking in a manic and almost reverent manner. "I know who Arthur Pendragon is."
"Speak," he commands.
"He was someone who we were going to take in," the doctor explains, practically vibrating with the satisfaction of solved mysteries. "Years ago, when he was just a child in the system. His true name is Aki Tadashi and his quirk is dragon heart."
"Dragon heart?" All for One repeats, testing the name, turning it over in his mind.
"It amplifies all his physical capabilities," the doctor continues, gesturing enthusiastically at something off-screen, presumably data and charts All for One cannot see. "Strength, speed, durability, healing, everything enhanced to superhuman levels. A multiplicative quirk rather than an additive one, which explains why his base capabilities are so extraordinary."
"Are you sure," All for One says flatly. It's not quite a question. More of a demand.
"Positive," the doctor replies without hesitation. "Some of his hair was on Nomu 2 after their encounter. I ran it multiple times, dozens of tests, actually. Triple-checked everything. The DNA is definitely his."
All for One nods slowly. DNA doesn't lie. If the doctor has physical samples, has tested them thoroughly...
"Have you analyzed his quirk factor?" All for One leans forward. This is the crucial test, the one that will tell him if his suspicions are correct. "Does he have One for All?"
"That's the weird part," the doctor says, and now his manic excitement shifts into something more unsettled, more confused. "And why it took me so long to get back to you. He doesn't have a quirk factor."
Silence.
"He what?" All for One's voice drops dangerously low.
"Yes," the doctor continues quickly, words tumbling over each other in his haste to explain. "He doesn't have a quirk factor. Or it would be better to say that his hair doesn't hold it anymore. It's almost like it died when it got cut off from the main body, almost like a protection of some kind, a biological failsafe. I have never seen anything like it in all my years of research."
The doctor pauses, pulling up something on his screen, data, probably, readings and charts that All for One doesn't care to see.
"The only reason why I believe that he had a quirk in the first place, is because there is still a trace," he continues, his voice taking on that particular tone of scientific fascination. "It's unusable but it's there, like an echo left behind. Enough to identify that a quirk factor existed, but not enough to determine what said quirk was, the genetic material that would let me replicate or steal it has been... neutralized somehow. Rendered inert. It's like the quirk factor self-destructs when separated from the living body."
All for One sits back, processing this. A quirk with built-in protection against DNA analysis? Against his own power to steal quirks from genetic material? That's... incredibly lucky on Arthur's part.
"What of his sword then?" All for One asks, redirecting the conversation to the other mystery. "It's just a simple sword?"
If the quirk is dragon heart and nothing more, then what of that golden blade?
"It seems so," the doctor replies, though he sounds uncertain. "At least, from what I can determine from the footage and Shigaraki's reports. There's no indication it's a quirk manifestation, it appears to be a physical object, something he carries rather than generates. But without examining it directly..."
"Then what of the light that Shigaraki spoke of?" The question comes out harsh, demanding. There has to be an explanation, something that makes sense of what he's seen.
"Perhaps he's able to amplify the sword with his dragon heart as well," the doctor suggests, warming to the hypothesis. "If his quirk enhances all his physical capabilities, who's to say it can't enhance objects he's in contact with? The light could be another application of his quirk working through the blade, channeling that enhancement into a concentrated attack. I'd have to get my hands on it and the boy to be sure, of course. Direct examination would answer so many questions."
All for One considers this. It's plausible. Quirk awakening had been a phenomenon he had studied. If dragon heart can enhance the body, perhaps it can enhance tools as well. It would explain the sword's cutting power, at least, but still doubt lingers.
"Hmm. How is Nomu 2?"
"Fine," the doctor reports, relief evident in his voice. "No permanent damage done to him. The regeneration took a few hours longer than normal, but full recovery has been achieved long ago. All systems nominal."
"Good," the man says, his tone suggesting wheels turning, plans forming. His gaze shifts once more to the empty sleeve on Shigaraki visible on the other monitor, comparing. Shigaraki could not regenerate, at least not yet.
"At least it seems like it was a good experience for Shigaraki. I think we'll be able to speed up making him my vessel because of this."
"Master are you sure about that," the doctor begins, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "Shigaraki-"
"Yes," the man interrupts, his voice carrying absolute certainty, absolute authority. There's no room for argument in that single syllable. "I'm sure. Even though he's quieter, his hatred seems to have grown beyond childish whims. He'll be a good test run."
Now even the doctor looks confused, his expression visible on the screen shifting to uncertainty. "Test run?"
"Yes," All for One confirms, his ever present smile spreading even more, cracking the skin around his lips. "I believe some of my plans need some changing. Just a bit. This Aki Tadashi has grown into a bigger variable than I thought possible."
Plans laid over decades may need adjustment. Timelines may need to shift. But that's fine. He's been patient for over a century, he can be patient a bit longer.
Everything will fall, and rise again under his control.
As it should be. As it already had been.
A/N: Sup dudes and dudettes, we got some villainy in here muahahaha. It's long overdue to get some villain POV cause Arthur absolutely is making big shifts to AFO's plans, I mean the guy can speedblitz and kill AFO in under a microcosm if he had the heart for it lol. AFO should be worried (even though he won't say he is).
Oh and AFO thinking that Shigaraki is quieter because of 'growth' and not because he's fucking traumatized is a distinction only a psychopath like AFO couldn't have made lol.
That's pretty much it for today. Send those stones if you want more, we gotta climb those rankings.
Thx for reading. Hero names are coming up next.
Author out.