A Collector

Gift

The world outside was covered in a blanket of snow, a stillness hanging over the city that only came once a year. Christmas Eve. The lights twinkling across the streets, the faint echo of carolers singing in the distance, the soft hum of festive cheer. The kind of cheer Izuku used to appreciate—before everything changed.

Now, in this fractured world, Christmas was little more than a memory, an illusion of joy that was out of his reach. The holiday's cheer felt like a cruel joke, one that mocked his current path. But still, there was something... calming about the quiet of the night. The cold, the snow, the way the world seemed to slow down and reflect for a moment.

He wasn't in the city tonight. No, he was far from the bustling streets and the festivities. His steps had brought him to a familiar place—the warehouse, his sanctuary, his prison. A place where choices were made, where paths were forged, and where the fire of ambition burned hottest. It wasn't the kind of place anyone would associate with Christmas cheer, but tonight it would be.

Inside the dark, cold warehouse, the usual oppressive silence hung in the air. The walls seemed to close in, but tonight, there was a small glimmer of warmth. Izuku's gaze rested on the single, solitary decoration in the corner. It was a Christmas tree, bare and simple, standing alone in the shadows. The tree wasn't much—just a sparse collection of branches decorated with a few mismatched baubles and strings of fading lights—but it was enough to make the space feel... different.

"Who would've thought?" Izuku muttered, almost to himself. He had never been one for holiday traditions, but tonight, for reasons he couldn't explain, he'd found himself putting it up. A small part of him, deep down, wanted to hold on to some semblance of normality. Some small piece of the world he'd once dreamed of. Something to remind him of a time when the world wasn't so broken.

A soft click behind him made him pause.

He didn't need to turn around. He knew who it was.

All for One.

The older man, his dark, ever-watchful gaze flicking toward the tree, raised an eyebrow, his voice dry with amusement. "I didn't expect to see such festive... cheer from you, Izuku. Christmas? Isn't that a bit beneath you now?"

Izuku exhaled a soft, rueful laugh. "I guess I'm still human, after all. Even if that's something I've tried to forget."

All for One took a slow step forward, his boots making no sound on the concrete as he moved. His eyes lingered on the tree for a long moment before his lips twisted into something resembling a smile. "You don't strike me as the type to hold on to sentimental things. I'm surprised, Izuku."

The young man didn't look at him, his attention fixed on the tree. "Maybe I'm not the same person I used to be. But sometimes... it feels like I still need a reminder. A reminder of what I thought the world could be, you know?"

All for One didn't respond immediately. Instead, he let the silence fill the room, his gaze lingering on the tree before it returned to Izuku, noting the faint sadness in his apprentice's eyes. He took a seat at the table nearby, the low creak of the chair cutting through the stillness.

"A reminder, hm?" All for One said, his voice laced with something that could have been sympathy, though it was impossible to be sure. "That's a dangerous thing to hold on to. It makes you weak, forces you to look back when you should be focused on the future. The past can be a prison, Izuku. Don't let it bind you."

Izuku turned his head slightly, his eyes cold but distant. "I know. But sometimes, I can't help but wonder... what if it wasn't all a lie? What if the world could have been something better?"

The older man's smile deepened, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. "Better? That word means nothing. What you're seeking—what you're trying to grasp—is an illusion. You've learned that, haven't you? Power is the only thing that endures. And power is the only thing that can remake this world in your image."

Izuku stared at the tree again. "I'm starting to believe that... but that doesn't mean I don't feel something. There's still a part of me that clings to that hope, even if it's fading."

A long pause stretched between them, the tension palpable. The sounds of the snow outside seemed to grow louder, as though the world itself was holding its breath.

Finally, All for One spoke again, his voice surprisingly soft, almost thoughtful. "Hope is dangerous, Izuku. It makes you believe in things that aren't real. But... I suppose that's what makes you human, isn't it?"

Izuku's lips curled into a faint, bitter smile. "Yeah. I guess it is."

The silence stretched again, longer this time, both men lost in their thoughts, the only sound the soft hum of the dim lights overhead and the occasional drip of water from somewhere in the shadows. The Christmas tree, with its mismatched decorations and struggling lights, stood like a forgotten symbol of a time when things were simpler, when the world wasn't so consumed by pain and power.

"You know," Izuku said quietly, breaking the silence, "I used to dream about becoming the greatest hero. To save everyone, to be the light in the dark. But now... I don't know what I am anymore. I don't even know if I can still call myself a hero."

All for One's gaze shifted, his dark eyes narrowing. "You still think of yourself as a hero?" His tone was slightly incredulous, but not mocking. "Heroes are a relic of the past, Izuku. They have no place in this new world. What you must become... is a force of nature. A creator of worlds, not a savior of men."

Izuku's expression darkened, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—something uncertain. "And what if I don't want to be that? What if I just... want to be something better? Something more than all of this?"

All for One didn't reply immediately. The flickering of the tree lights filled the silence, casting shadows across the room. The older man simply regarded Izuku for a moment before leaning back, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface of the desk.

"Better?" he repeated, as if savoring the word. "You are something better, Izuku. You just don't see it yet. But don't worry. You will."

Izuku's eyes flickered to All for One, but the weight of the conversation, the flicker of hope in his heart, made him sigh. "Maybe... Maybe there's still a chance for something more. Even if I have to walk down a different path to find it."

All for One's lips curled into a smile again, though it was devoid of warmth. "There's no turning back, Izuku. You've already taken the first step down that road. But remember—power is the only true gift in this world. Christmas is for children. But power... that's something even an adult can learn to love."

Izuku turned away, looking once more at the tree. The chill of the air seemed to seep into his bones as he stood there in silence, pondering his next move. Power, strength, the weight of the choices he had made—was that really all he had left now?

He heard a small rustle, and when he turned back, All for One was holding something in his hand—a small, perfectly wrapped box. He didn't say anything at first, but his gaze softened for just a moment, an odd contrast to the coldness that usually accompanied him.

"Consider this your Christmas gift, Izuku," he said, his voice tinged with something strange—perhaps a mix of affection and manipulation. "The gift of power, the gift of choice."

Izuku took the box from his mentor, his fingers brushing the cold wrapping. The box felt heavier than it should, its presence oddly unsettling.

Slowly, he unwrapped it, revealing a small, silver pendant—a simple circle with intricate, dark runes carved into it. Power, no doubt, in the form of something physical. A tool to help him further along his path.

A gift, indeed.

Izuku glanced up at All for One, who only nodded slightly.

"This is your world now, Izuku. Don't forget it."

And as the night wore on, the silence between them grew thick, both of them lost in their own thoughts, and the soft glow of the Christmas tree the only warmth that could be felt.

Maybe, just maybe, this Christmas was different after all.