The day of mourning had arrived.
Across the country, flags hung at half-mast. Schools and offices were closed. Citizens were asked to step outside at noon, face the sun, and remember what had been lost.
Destro stood at the window of his private study, looking out at Deika City. The streets below were quiet. Empty. The usual bustle of MLA sympathisers going about their daily routines had been replaced by a hush that felt almost reverent.
He did not feel reverent.
He felt tired.
"The new year has been terrible," he said, not turning around.
Behind him, the room was full. Curious sat on the leather couch, legs crossed, her sharp smile absent for once. Skeptic hunched over a tablet, fingers twitching, scrolling through data that probably made him want to break something. Kaede stood near the bookshelf, her pale lavender hair catching the weak winter light. Ren leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, her usual energy drained into something quieter.
Other leaders were scattered around. The core of the MLA. The ones who had survived Hero's Eve with their positions intact.
Curious spoke first. "We need your leadership. The rank and file are scared. They don't know what to do next. The attack failed. Koku is dead. And now the entire country is mourning the Symbol of Peace." She paused. "They are looking for someone to follow."
Destro turned from the window. He walked to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. Whiskey. Neat. He downed it in one go.
"We certainly let Kobe and Nagant do as they pleased with us, didn't we?"
The words were quiet. Measured. But everyone in the room heard the edge beneath them.
Skeptic looked up from his tablet. "What can we do about it now? They are gone. Probably buried under Commission protection by now. We should focus on Geten."
Destro set his glass down. "Geten. Yes. That was a surprise."
"A surprise?" Curious raised an eyebrow. "He was beaten by school children. UA students. Second years."
Destro's expression didn't change. "It is a surprise because I did not expect him to lose. Not because I underestimated UA. I never have."
He looked around the room.
"We should stop underestimating UA and other hero schools. That has been a recurring mistake."
No one argued.
Destro turned to Kaede. "You still have all of Koku's memories?"
Kaede nodded. Her silver eyes were steady, but there was something beneath them. Fatigue, perhaps. Or doubt.
"Yes. Everything. From the moment I extracted them until the moment he died."
"And you can hold them? Indefinitely?"
"I can keep them as long as I need to. Older memories will eventually filter out to make space for new information. But I have time."
Destro nodded slowly. "Good. Koku was the perfect candidate. Smart. Charismatic. Charming. He had already built a rapport with the people. They trusted him. They would have voted for him."
He walked to his desk and picked up a folder. Thin. Unmarked.
"We need a new figurehead. Someone to fill the gap he left behind."
He opened the folder. Inside was a photograph. A man with neat hair, a forgettable face, and nervous eyes.
"Kazuki Shiraishi."
The name landed like a stone in still water.
Curious frowned. "Who?"
"One of our miscellaneous members. He was picked up during the Hosu Game. Worked with Abyss for a time. Killed a few people. We brought him in to keep him away from Soryu." Destro set the photograph down. "He was terrified of the boy. We had to station him far from any operations involving Kobe."
Ren snorted. "And you want to use him as a figurehead? He couldn't lead a parade, let alone a political campaign."
Destro's smile was thin. "Not as a leader. As bait."
He turned to Kaede.
"Kazuki Shiraishi will receive Koku's memories. All of them. He will become Koku. He will walk like him. Speak like him. Campaign like him. And when Kobe Arakawa hears of Kanzaki he will come to finish whatever grievances they had."
Kaede's expression flickered. "Doing that will overflow Kanzaki's mind. He will probably get brain damage. Or die."
Destro waved a hand. "Then you take away his original memories first. Make room."
Kaede shook her head. "My quirk does not work like that. I can copy memories. I cannot erase them."
Destro paused. His fingers tapped the desk once. Twice.
"My mistake. I apologise." He said it simply, without embarrassment. "Then we do it differently. You overwrite his memories. His original ones will fade over time, won't they? If they are not reinforced?"
Kaede hesitated. "I have not tried that before." She thought for a moment. "But... I think it could work. If I layer Koku's memories over his own, repeatedly, his original self would eventually become... buried. Fragmented."
"How long would that take?"
"I do not know. A couple weeks, perhaps. It depends on how strong his sense of self is."
Destro nodded. "Then you will practise first. Find someone expendable. Test the process. When you are confident, you will do it to Kazuki Shiraishi."
Kaede swallowed. "And if he dies?"
"Then we find another vessel. Koku's memories will not go to waste."
The room was quiet. No one objected.
Destro turned back to the others.
"While Kaede works on that, we will go for Geten. Many heroes and officials will flood Japan in the coming days. They will offer aid. Some have been requested. Some of those requested will have capabilities similar to Kaede's. Memory readers. Truth seekers. People who can extract information that we cannot afford to lose."
He let that sink in.
"If Geten talks, our operations will be compromised. Our bases. Our supply lines. Our remaining allies. Everything we have built will crumble."
Skeptic nodded. "I already have the location. He is being held in a secure facility outside Osaka. They will move him within the week. Probably to Tokyo for further interrogation."
"Then we have a short timeframe." Destro looked around the room. "We move fast. We hit hard. We retrieve Geten before they can relocate him."
Curious frowned. "And if we cannot retrieve him?"
Destro's expression did not change. "Then we make sure he cannot talk."
No one asked what that meant.
The meeting began to disperse. Leaders filed out, discussing logistics, routes, contingencies. Kaede lingered for a moment, her gaze distant, before she followed.
Destro stood alone at the window again.
He did not tell them about the assassin.
He had hired her three days ago. A woman with no name, no face, no record. She specialised in quiet deaths. The kind that looked like accidents. The kind that left no trail.
She was already en route to Osaka.
If she reached Geten first, the problem would be solved. No information. No leaks. Just a dead villain in a holding cell, killed by persons unknown.
If his own team reached Geten first, they would retrieve him. Question him. Decide his fate internally.
Either way, Destro won.
He picked up his glass, considered pouring another drink, then set it down.
"And as for Kobe and Nagant..." He spoke to the empty room. "I will have something special planned for the traitorous duo."
____
The sky was the colour of old ash.
It had been three days since the news broke. Three days since the world learned that All Might was dead. Three days since the footage of All For One's victory had been broadcast into every home in the country. The government had declared a national day of mourning. Flags were lowered. Schools were closed. And now, gathered in UA's stadium, thousands of people sat in silence, waiting to say goodbye.
The stadium had been transformed. Black banners hung from every rafter, embroidered with the names of the fallen. Not just All Might. All of them. The civilians who had died in the attacks. The heroes who had fallen during the evacuation. The students who would never graduate. The memorial wall at the centre of the field was long enough to hold them all.
Todoroki Shoto sat in the second row of the student section, his hands folded in his lap. Beside him, his sister Fuyumi shifted in her seat. His brother Natsuo was on her other side, arms crossed, jaw tight. Endeavour was not with them. He was on the stage, seated among the other top heroes, his flames banked low, his face carved from stone.
The stadium was full. Families, heroes, officials, civilians who had travelled for hours to be here. The quiet was not peaceful. It was the quiet of a held breath. Of people waiting for something that would not come.
Todoroki stared at the memorial wall and thought about how strange the past few days had been.
Endeavour had not yelled once. Not at him. Not at anyone. He came home after the battle, stood in the doorway of the Todoroki house, and simply... stopped. Fuyumi had made tea. He drank it. He did not speak. He went to his room. The next morning, he was already gone.
"He does not sleep," Fuyumi had told him yesterday, her voice low, as if Endeavour might hear them through the walls. "I heard him pacing at three in the morning. Four. Five. He just... walks."
Todoroki had not known what to say. He still did not.
The news had named Endeavour the new number one hero. The announcement had been clinical. A statement from the Commission. A press conference where Endeavour stood at a podium, read from a prepared script, and answered no questions. He looked like a man being fitted for a coffin.
Todoroki felt sick every time he thought about it.
Number one. The position his father had chased his entire life. The validation he had sacrificed everything for. His family. His marriage. His children. And now it had arrived, wrapped in ash and blood, and Endeavour could not even pretend to be happy.
"I do not understand him," Todoroki had said to Fuyumi. "He should be... something. Angry. Triumphant. I do not know."
Fuyumi had smiled. A sad, strange smile. "He wanted to earn it. He wanted to beat All Might. Not inherit his grave."
Natsuo had shrugged. "Who cares what he wants? He's finally got everything he's ever wanted."
Natsuo did not care about Endeavour's grief. He had made that clear years ago. Todoroki envied him sometimes. The clarity of indifference.
But he could not look away. He kept watching his father. Kept noticing the way his hands trembled when he thought no one was looking. The way his flames flickered unevenly, like a heart struggling to beat. The way he stared at All Might's portrait on the news, his expression unreadable.
He is mourning, Todoroki realised. And he does not know how.
The thought did not bring him comfort.
Rows behind him, Bakugou Katsuki sat with his arms crossed, his jaw locked so tight his molars ached. His mother was beside him. His father was on her other side. They had not spoken since they sat down. They had not spoken much at all since Hero's Eve.
The stadium was too quiet. He hated it. He hated the black banners. He hated the memorial wall. He hated the way people cried softly into their handkerchiefs, the way they clutched each other's hands, the way they looked at the stage like something miraculous might still happen.
All Might was dead.
The words kept repeating in his head, a loop he could not escape. All Might was dead. The Symbol of Peace. The man who had smiled through every disaster, who had never once looked afraid, who had made the world feel safe just by existing.
He was supposed to be invincible.
Bakugou's fists clenched in his lap. The fabric of his trousers bunched under his fingers. He had not slept properly since the news broke. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the footage. All For One's massive form. The blast of light. All Might's body, crumpling.
And he had not been there.
He had been sitting in his dorm room like a coward, benched because he could not control his own quirk, because he flinched when people touched him, because he was broken.
The word tasted like poison.
He had not spoken to anyone in days. Kirishima had tried. Kaminari had tried. Even Deku had looked at him once, in the hallway, like he wanted to say something. Bakugou had walked past him without a word.
What was there to say?
I am sorry I was not there? I am sorry I am weak? I am sorry I let them carve her name into my skin and now I cannot even hold a conversation without wanting to explode?
He swallowed. His throat was dry.
He thought about All Might. About the first time he had seen him on television, young and dazzled, watching the hero save an entire city block with a single punch. He had known, even then, that he wanted to be like that. Strong. Unstoppable. A symbol.
And now that symbol was gone.
And Bakugou was still here. Still breathing. Still failing.
The anger burned in his chest, hot and constant, like a fire he could not put out. He was angry at the League. At All For One. At the heroes who had not been fast enough. At himself. Always at himself.
He felt like he was burning from the inside out.
His mother glanced at him. She did not say anything. She did not need to. She already knew.
At the front of the student section, Midoriya Izuku sat very still.
He had been told, several times, that it was okay to cry. That no one would judge him. That grief was not weakness. He appreciated the sentiment. He did not believe it.
The speeches had begun. Police Chief Naomasa was at the podium now, his voice steady but thick with emotion. He spoke about All Might as a colleague. A friend. A man who had once helped him solve a case by simply standing outside a building until the suspect surrendered.
The crowd laughed. A soft, sad sound.
Midoriya did not laugh.
He listened to Naomasa. Then to Gran Torino, who shuffled to the podium, looked out at the thousands of faces, and said, "He was an idiot. A brilliant, stubborn, reckless idiot. And I am going to miss him every day for the rest of my life."
Then he shuffled off. No one clapped. There was nothing to clap for.
Other people spoke. Heroes Midoriya had never met. Officials whose names he did not recognise. A woman who had been saved by All Might during a villain attack twenty years ago. She held her daughter's hand as she spoke, her voice breaking.
Midoriya looked around the stadium.
Is this it?
The thought came unbidden, sharp and unwelcome. He pushed it down. Then it rose again.
Is this what he would have wanted?
All Might had never been comfortable with ceremony. He had attended galas and award shows because they were expected, because the Commission requested it, because smiling for cameras was part of the job. But Midoriya had seen him after those events. The way his smile dropped the moment he was alone. The way his shoulders sagged.
He would have hated this.
The realisation settled in Midoriya's chest like a stone. He thought about the memorial wall. The black banners. The thousands of people gathered to grieve a man who had never wanted to be mourned.
He would have wanted us to keep moving. To keep fighting. Not to stand here in the cold and cry.
But they were here. And he was here. And he did not know if that was right or wrong.
Am I doing the right thing?
He did not know that either.
His hands were shaking. He pressed them flat against his thighs.
He thought about the battle with Muscular. The way his fists had kept swinging long after the villain had stopped fighting back. The way Aizawa had pulled him off, his grip iron-tight, his voice sharp.
"That is enough, Problem Child."
He had almost killed him. He had wanted to. In that moment, with Uraraka's blood on the pavement and Muscular's grin still stretching across his face, Midoriya had wanted to end him.
All Might would not have done that.
The thought came like a slap.
All Might had fought villains for decades. He had punched through buildings and shattered the earth and brought criminals to their knees. But he had never killed. Not once. Not even when it would have been easier. Not even when the world would have understood.
He was better than me.
Midoriya's throat tightened.
He was better than me, and now he is gone, and I have his power, and I have to carry this alone.
The weight of it pressed down on him. One For All thrummed beneath his skin, restless, grieving, hungry. He did not know how to describe it. The quirk felt different now. Heavier. Like it was waiting for something.
What do I do?
He did not have an answer.
His eyes burned. He blinked. The tears did not fall. He would not let them.
Nezu climbed onto the podium.
He was so small that the microphone had to be lowered. The crowd shifted, quieting, leaning forward. The principal of UA had not been scheduled to speak. But here he was.
His black eyes swept the stadium.
"I will not pretend that everything will be alright."
His voice was light, but it carried.
"The floodgates have opened. The days ahead are even darker than the ones we have already survived. There will be more attacks. More losses. More grief."
A ripple went through the crowd. Uncomfortable. Afraid.
Nezu did not soften his words.
"The Symbol of Peace is gone. That comfort is gone. The illusion that someone will always be there to save us is gone." He paused. "But that does not mean we are defenceless."
He turned. His gaze found the student section.
"The light we can provide, even if it is small, is valuable to everyone in need. A single candle in a dark room is not nothing. It is the difference between despair and hope."
He raised a paw.
"The lightbearers are here. They are young. They are frightened. They are grieving. But they are still standing."
He pointed.
"Lemillion."
In the third row of the graduating students, Mirio Togata rose.
His suit was black. His face was pale. His eyes were red-rimmed. But he stood straight. He walked to the aisle. He walked down the steps. He walked onto the stage.
And he bowed.
Not to the crowd. Not to the cameras.
To the memorial wall.
To All Might.