"Um." Izuku stared out at the sea of expectant faces, all in rapt attention. The sun was too bright in his eyes, the cloudless noonday sky bright blue above the rustling green maples that shifted and whispered in the breeze. Black, round eyes of camera crews spied from all angles, taking in not just him, but the entire agency crew standing on either side of him. A group of what might the most publicized upstart hero agencies in history. They stood with him, his women and men. People he would trust with his life, and vice versa.
"I'm standing here today because of a lot of people," Izuku said, swallowing as he forced his hands into the pockets of fitted navy khakis he had no hand in picking or purchasing. He looked on, skimming the dozens of civilians and heroes before him. He saw Todoroki and Shinsou, shoulder to shoulder, the latter grinning like a loon. Classmates, his mother, Kacchan's parents, their teachers over the years - all waiting, watching.
Izuku took a breath.
"Some of them challenged me, encouraged me," he paused with a short laugh as he noted Aizawa in the crowd, wearing sunglasses, and received a nod in return for his attention. "Some of them terrified me, too."
He felt Kacchan at his side, chest puffed out from the periphery, full of pride.
"But there's one thing they've all had in common," Izuku said, his fists clenching within his pockets from the passion that bloomed within his heart. "They've all saved me. At some point in my life. Whether it was fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, or onward. Emotionally, mentally, or physically. These are the people who have made me who I am today, and the majority of them, you're seeing right here. Within the crowd, by my side, and all of them reflected within my words, living on. My mother, who stands in the crowd today. A woman who gave her all for me to be this person. Who instilled in me the heart of a hero like no pro or teacher ever could. The one who was my hero before I even knew what a hero was."
Izuku caught his mother's damp eyes, his chest filling with a lifetime of memories, hugs, smiles, scraped knees being kissed, nights spent sleeping in his mother's bed when he'd had a nightmare. The moments exchanged between them under the fresh autumn sky, immortalized in both of them, carried on by Izuku.
"And to my father," Izuku said softly, looking into the camera. He felt Kacchan stiffen beside them. This was a subject that never arose, not once since they were young – very young. Izuku had simply said, I don't know him, and that had been the end of that. "I have my father to thank, too. My mentor, the man who made the hero you see today. The man after whom this agency is named after."
Reporters erupted into a frenzy of questions, scrambling toward the front of the group.
"Stupid Deku!" Kacchan hissed in his ear, his mouth close. "Your wording sucks ass."
"N-n-not my actual father!" Izuku said, holding up his hands and waving them around, his smile wobbling and his brave hero face cracking. "My father figure. Figure! All Might!"
The hysteria of Izuku's comment failed to rest, and ripples of chatter and curiosity fanned out to the edges of the gathered crowd.
"Oiy, oiy!" Kacchan's words shot through the excitable mania like a machine gun as he glowered out at the crowd, one elbow propped upon Izuku's shoulder to slump against as he snarled. "Deku's shit at this –"
"Like you're any better," Izuku mumbled with a sidelong glance.
"So you figure it out. We don't need the long-ass speeches when I know you're just here for the street party and the free barbecue."
"Kacchan, that's not –"
"This guy," Kacchan said, knocking his fist lightly atop Izuku's head, his gravel voice mellowing, his profile stern, "Has seen some shit. Has been through some shit."
