A Collector

The Birth of the Second All For One

Izumi Yagi's P.O.V

Dad and I were walking back home after our chat. Finding out his hero identity and the secret of his power was shocking on two levels. Firstly, it was mind-blowing to know that my parents were two of the greatest heroes in the world, currently. And secondly, Izuku being quirkless finally clicked. He got it from dad, and it was even stranger because, him being quirkless, he should have understood what it would have been like for Izuku, right? He could have given his power to Izuku this whole time, and his life would have been great. His dream could have been obtainable.

Izuku would have been an amazing hero; however, it's not rocket science to know that without a quirk, becoming a hero would do more harm than good. Regardless of why he wants to be a hero, he'd just be in the way, and would likely put more people in danger than he would help. I mean, what would he be able to do against a power-hungry villain with a quirk that could send out projectile lightning bolts his way? Or that could create earthquakes, tornados, or whatever it is. Without a quirk, he can't become a hero in the way that he wants to be.

I honestly think that if he wants to help people, there are better ways to do it without a quirk. Like volunteer work, working as a police officer or a detective, becoming a doctor—I know he's got the brains—, etc. There are so many ways to help people or save lives that don't involve villains. And I mean, the only difference between becoming a doctor, or becoming a detective, and heroics is the recognition, but if all he wants to do is help people as he says, then that shouldn't matter to him.

Opening the door, a loud crashing noise invaded my ears. I turned my head towards the kitchen, searching for my mother, and found her holding a cup as she faced her head towards the ceiling. Her frightened and worried expression gave me a sinking feeling as my father and I glanced at each other.

"Mom? What's going on?" I asked her with caution polluting my voice. Finally acknowledging our presence, she turned to face my father and I before replying hastily.

"I'm not sure, sweetie. Izuku just ran into the house, crying, and shut himself in his room." She replied wearily.

Glancing between my parents, a sort of muffled and choppy scream erupted from upstairs—echoing throughout the house and bouncing in my ears. It sounded as if someone were being stabbed to death. We all dashed towards Izuku's room—realizing that was where the cry had originated from—and continued to hear choked sobs and violent crashes leaking out from inside his room.

Dad was about to open the door when it shot open, revealing a red, and puffy-eyed Izuku. He looked so defeated. Likely from what Kacchan said earlier.

I knew he took it too far this afternoon, but I didn't say anything. In hindsight, maybe I should have.

I glanced inside his room, as did my parents, to find it lying in ruins. His All might posters were torn, his figurines were broken, and his furniture was thrown around as if it were nothing. Everything was misplaced into chaos.

He treaded on past us all with his school bag slung over his shoulders; meanwhile, I stood, staring, into the room that seemed foreign, or out of place in the house that seemed so familiar.

Had it really been that long since I'd seen his room? I think it's been about a year now.

Processing the odd situation we had been placed in, the three of us followed Izuku throughout the house—closely behind him, but maintaining a distance between us and him, nevertheless. He looked so sad and vulnerable. I'd seen him cry a lot in the past—given our history—but this was different. There was something eerie, odd, or unnerving about the way he was staring at nothing.