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Chapter Text

Natsumi is falling – down and down and down, her back to the incoming ground and the pain of her wounds numbed by adrenaline and fear. Her heart is up her throat and her mind is filled with flashes of thoughts, of memories; changing from one scene to another, faces of her friends and family in the forefront of it – images of them dead and gone, of the happy times long past and it aches something fierce inside her that –

She is scared and lost – and it’s not because she’s falling but because she knows she can’t go back. Can’t . The knowledge itches in her brain. Can’t go threatening to break her heart and soul. Can’t go back, and if she could, Natsumi would have screamed and cried her throat raw.

Instead; she falls and lands with a crash, like a comet falling on earth. It takes her long to stand, and even longer to reorient herself – instincts screaming at her, telling her that she’s in an unfamiliar place with even more unfamiliar people. A city, Natsumi can tell, seeing the tall buildings and houses – though the infrastructure is nothing she’s ever seen before, foreign in its design. And even more foreign in its people. No chakra, no signs of fighting or of war – no dead bodies littering the ground, no blood tracks or traces of jutsu in the walls or surface, no stench of death or hatred – just peace. 

Peaceful in ways her world has long since forgotten how to be. Filled with life, and quiet in the way Natsumi yearns in the aching sort of desire to go back to.

She feels a pang of guilt to have ended up in such a place the way she did, and absently takes comfort that she hadn’t hurt anyone with her rough landing. There’s an ache in her bones when she moves to stand, knees almost buckling from the weight of her injuries that are taking long to heal, but all of that is erased at the sight of the rift above her. 

It’s beautiful and dazzling, the cosmos and stars and universes flashing before her – mocking her for her displacement, an aching reminder that she’s now somewhere foreign and away . And above her is the cause of it.

Home is a place far beyond her reach, now. But she will be damned if she doesn't at least try going back.

Anger churning inside her, desperation filling her every breath and movement – her surroundings fade away and she’s moving and moving –

Hand outstretched, inwardly reaching for Kurama and his familiar and warm chakra – suddenly, but not soon enough, she’s in her tailed-beast form; reaching and reaching, ground cracking as she jumps – all Natsumi can think and feel is the aching and desperate need to go back to where she belongs. Energy crackles in her veins, gritting her teeth; she reaches.

But oh, fate is cruel and she falls short with the taste of blood and Konoha in her tongue.

She failed.

Natsumi failed. The thought repeats itself over and over again, a damning sentence – a death sentence that fills her with heart-wrenching terror and grief and before she could stop, she screams and screams and screams, hard enough that her throat is aching, hard enough that she tastes blood and stinging pain – her scream is nothing short of agony and despair, and she barely notices her scent wafting in the air. The scent of decay and rotting draws more than a few eyes – the stench of anguish, the scent of agony – telling everyone of a distressed Omega away from her pack, away from her family and aching to find them but can’t.

Barely, because despite her state; her instincts ring and she cuts her cries with a bite of her tongue, adding to the pain and metallic taste that floods her mouth but it does its job of clearing the haze in her mind enough to realise that she was no longer alone – that there were now people – Alpha’s – surrounding her. 

Red rimmed but no less alert, she tenses. Swallowing the urge to shrivel up and let loose, her despair is replaced by burning hot anger, all she wants is to be left alone – to be left alone to mourn, is that too much to ask?

Natsumi moves to stand, not realising how she’s been curled up after her failure, not realising she’s yet to leave her tailed-beast mode; or move from her spot in the cracked and cratered ground. Her body still aches but all of that is nothing compared to the fractures in her heart so she moves with ease, assessing her surroundings and the new foreign people around her. 

They’re all dressed weird, she can’t help but think, shaking off the cement and dust on her, sharp eyes observing them. Dressed weird as they are, she can clearly see that they’re all trained. Sharp movements and narrowed eyes – they’re not people to be underestimated, but still all clearly weak compared to her; except…

One. In a costume filled with blacks and whites and yellows, wearing a blue cape with hair that reminds her of her dad, if only because of its color. His strange outfit aside; Natsumi can tell he was the strongest out of all of them, but he’s nothing she can’t handle. 

She could beat them, Natsumi knows just from a glance. This world was not built for war like hers was; not built for the types of ruthless battles like she was trained to be. And in any other situation she wouldn’t hesitate to fight them – threats as they were. But she’s tired and still so injured. Kurama is silent but she can tell he’s still there – thank kami – and weakened from the war.

They both desperately just want to rest, recoup and…

And, something . Because Natsumi doesn’t know what to do from there, knows they both can’t go back not unless Kurama or this world has something for Kurama or her to work on. Her heart hurts at the thought, but Natsumi was never one to shy away from harsh realities, now, though, she wishes she was; just a little. 

Just for a bit, she wishes she can turn away from the reality she’s living in now.

( Some part of her wants to be small again, little Natsumi running away from angry villagers, little Natsumi hiding behind Oji-chan’s robes, little Natsumi, hurt but never so jaded as she is now.

Oh, kami, she wants to go back. Yearns to go back to Konoha before the war, before Orochimaru, before Sasuke – that bastard – turned away from them.

She wants to run like little Natsumi did with the angry villagers nipping at her heels.

Oh, but Natsumi was never one to shy away from the harshness that was her life, and though she wishes desperately that she was – she won’t start now.

The Will of Fire burns brightly within you, she clings to those words like how a drowning man clings to straw.  )

She doesn’t dare cling to those thoughts for long, she doesn’t have the time to do so now. Or the place. With so many people around her, tense and waiting for her to make the first move – in a new world where new enemies and little allies await for her –

Natsumi can’t. Not now. 

It doesn’t help that the air smells weird, foreign stench that itches at her skin and rubs her instincts wrong. Her friends – pack – nowhere to be seen in ways that make a whine itch her throat, wanting to be heard – wanting to call for them and to find them.

Her instincts haven’t yet made the connection – or maybe, it just doesn’t want to. Their scent still clings to her skin and clothes, memories still fresh, their voices still ringing in her ears and their smiles in her eyes.

It’s so hard to let go when they’ve been together for so long, been through so much. Harder still when grief aches her bones, wrapping around her heart and squeezing it tight.

It reminds her of where she is at this very moment. And as soon as a man – Alpha – steps forward, she snarls. A growl making its way out her mouth instead of the whine she so wants to give instead. Their scents reach out for her in ways she doesn’t let nor want. It only makes things worse.

How dare they try to erase her pack's scent? Foreign people, her mind growls, angry and oh so violent. The haze in her mind grows and not even biting her lips will help at this point, not when she’s so lost in grief and anger. The pain will only make things worse. 

She tries not to get lost in the haze, tries not to get lost in her grief - but the barrage of memories come all at once, the reality hitting her right in the face at the sight of these unknown people around her, in foreign clothing and even more foreign scents – the soothing stench they give out to try to calm her only makes her angrier. 

How dare they try to take her away? Natsumi snarls, body tensing, and her tailed-beast form bristles in preparation to battle – or run. Despite the angry haze in her mind, she’s not so far gone to forget her wounds, the aching of her bones and dried blood sticking to her skin is a constant reminder of her state of being.

Another steps up, cooing  soothing words, barring his neck and showing empty hands as a means of surrender and show of peace; releasing more of that calming stench that fills the air around her. It only serves to suffocate her and make her nose twitch  – and as the others tense – for the first time since she could remember, Natsumi runs.

Away and away , because as much as a part of her wants to fight – to do away potential enemies that could hurt her or worse, take Kurama away from her – she’s tired, bones aching and hurt in more ways than she could say. 

So she runs and runs, instincts guiding her away as her feet pump with chakra, she jumps around in speeds that would make her father proud and Bee grin. Around her, the surroundings fade away; her mind running in that single minded awareness – filled only with thoughts of getting away to somewhere secluded, somewhere empty – safe .

Somewhere no one would bother her – somewhere she can mourn in peace.

It’s the only thing she can do now.

In the end, she arrives inside a forest that reminds her a little bit of the Forest of Death. Trees that tower over her, sunlight filtering through them and that hazy soft atmosphere that makes you want to lie on a thick branch and sleep; minus, of course, the monstrous creatures that made rounds in between and the stench of danger that seeped in your bones the moment you stepped in it.

Instead, here, only peace and relief seeps inside her. Natsumi’s instincts calm—if only a little—and she takes a moment to just breathe; her tailed-beast form leaving her like a wisp.

Her steps make no sound, each one she takes is silent, no branch snapping in half or the crunch of leaves breaking. She’s too good of a ninja for that now, and her mind being riddled in grief won’t change that.

Breathe in and out, she reminds herself, the echoes of Iruka in her mind, his steady presence had always helped, back then when she was in a much similar state; and the memories of him work much the same. Steady, in two, three, hold—four, five, out six, seven.

Breathe, Natsumi. Iruka always said, his eyes kind and voice gentle; gentle in ways that was only ever directed to her. Up above her, she can hear flocks of birds flying up and about, the wind gently caresses her face – she can almost imagine Iruka doing it instead. Just breathe, I’m here.

Natsumi misses him. Will always miss him, and will always feel his loss like a gaping, aching, wound inside her.

Will always feel all of their loss like an aching wound that she thinks will never be healed.

The thoughts—nay, reminders —draw a shaky breath out of her and she has to swallow a sob that’s building its way up. Not now, she tells herself. Unscathed she may be from this world’s foreign ninjas nipping at her heels, that doesn’t mean she could let go without a safe place to hide in. Natsumi can’t let her guard down just yet.

( If she does, she doesn’t think she can gather the pieces of herself so easily. 

Letting the pieces of yourself go is easy, it’s gathering yourself back up that’s hard. )

Natsumi forges on. Step by step by step. Above her, leaves flow gently; guided by the soft caress of the gentle breeze.

It wasn’t until her feet — and body — were screaming at her that she found it. 

It being a tall tree, the tallest among the ones around her—tall and large. Clearly the oldest, as well, judging by the healthy and thick roots around it, spreading through the expanse of the forest. 

With how close she is, the smell of its life -- so healthy, so old -- is so thick it settles itself around her, brushing against her cheeks; her being. Each breath she takes fills her with it and the ache of her wounds settle, bit by bit, almost healing.

It’s strong enough that she can feel it despite not being in Sage Mode. The taste of it—the smell of it, reminds her of Konoha, of home; before the fighting. Before the war and unease—where she felt the most safest and protected despite the coldness of the villagers, despite their anger and indifference, despite the harshness before she became Natsumi Uzumaki, the Number One Most Unpredictable Ninja of Team Seven; and she was just Natsumi, monster and container.

It was almost bittersweet, how she could find this feeling, this smell, in a new world without her people.

The feeling of it wraps around her, and this time, she lets it. Natsumi’s shoulders untense, and like in a trance, she goes towards it. The anger that held tight inside her stomach now uncurled, replaced by blissful blankness.

This one, her instinct whispers, a mix of her omegan nature and her, honed, ninja one. Safe.

Natsumi doesn’t need further urging—she goes. One step forward, and then another. 

Above her she can hear the birds fly and settle on the branches around her. Chirping and tweeting as the sun slowly starts to set; settling down their nests to prepare for sleep. Nearby, she can hear fishes swim and how the lake water flows. 

From where she sits and relaxes on a thick branch, high enough that the leaves cover her from above and below, her shoulders untense.

It’s the most relaxed she’s felt since the war. It’s the most relaxed she’s allowed herself to feel. 

Natsumi’s almost envious, really, at how much nature this forest has. So filled with life, with tranquillity — quiet and untouched by the horrors of war. Almost envious of this world for having the peace she wishes her world had —her world could have had. 

Could have had if they hadn’t lost.  

And oh, the thought of it will never fail to make Natsumi’s heart clench and curl up just like a child. Just like what she did all those years ago, young and scared, hiding under her bed from all those villagers looking to blame her for things she never did, nor knew about. 

Natsumi could tell herself that she’s envious — almost angry — of the world she’s in, for having the peace she could only dream of having back home. 

But in truth, she just wishes she had her pack here with her so they could experience it together instead of doing so alone — she was never built for solitude.

Curled up and under the protection of the tree — Natsumi feels the crushing loneliness swirling inside her like a whirlpool, threatening to drown her in its intensity.

Natsumi almost wishes she could let it. 

The sound of nature around her is a calming one; birds chirping high above her, some resting on the very branch she’s sitting on; the lull of gentle breeze caressing her; the sound of water flowing; it’s almost enough to set her to sleep.

Almost. 

Instead, she lets out a breath, relaxes her tense neck and leans back against the bark. It’s rough texture prodding her skin despite the thickness of her clothes; she finds that she likes the feeling — the feeling of pin pricks strangely grounding against the torrent of emotions swirling inside her.

One moment, two, three; in and out, through the nose and out your mouth.

“Kurama?” She calls out loud tentatively prodding him within the depths of her mind. Natsumi can feel him, of course, a constant presence at the back of her head — but still, the relief that floods her is undeniable. Surging through her like waves at the familiar soft snort that answers her unspoken question. 

It’s enough to have her release a shaky breath. Something like a sob coming up her throat and out her mouth; quiet but only the start. Hearing that she wasn’t really alone; having the confirmation that she had someone with her — it abates one of her worst fears. And that’s enough — for the dam to break.

Surging out of her like a flood she cries. And cries and cries, tears streaming down her cheeks, ugly sobs coming out her mouth, it’s not until a moment does she realise that she’s shaking from the torrent of emotions that break free — emotions upon emotions, all the times she’s hid them away inside a box releasing like Pandora’s Box, wrecking havoc inside her. 

It’s all a mess — Natsumi’s not sure where one ends and another starts. She’s not sure whether she should be grateful for having found the excuse to release it all — if having found the perfect place; where for the first time she’s felt so safe — was suddenly a good thing.

She cries and cries and cries with Kurama, a soothing presence at the back of her mind — sobs coming out of her mouth, the only sound she can hear and her shoulders; the very same ones that carried all the heavy burdens of her world, for the first, shakes. 

And she cries.

Natsumi just hopes that she can stand tall after this.

Chapter Text

Officially, the incident was called The Fault. Un officially, it was called The Disaster, or, as some Hero’s liked to call the incident, a migraine and a half. 

Neither of those titles did the incident any justice; none of it truly encapsulated the utter gravity — the sheer magnitude of what transpired. The golden flames, the scream, the distress. The power they witnessed; felt down to their bones; discovered.

But all of them silently agreed it was the coming of something new. Something other .

Something none of them were prepared for. Not yet.

To be honest, All Might liked to think there was not much that could get him to lose his composure. Or facade. Not much that could cause him to falter, not anymore, certainly – perhaps when he was a newbie in the business, it would be different. Back when he was new, bright-eyed and more optimistic, it would be a whole other story. But he was older, now, a little bit worn-out, but never too jaded, never too tired, exhausted.

That thinking, though, was arrogant. Evident by the scene before him, evident by how his eyes widened and how he froze – not stiffened, froze. Him, All Might. Frozen, and rightly so. Rightly so – really, because, here, in front of him – in front of all of them , fallen from the wide fault-line from the sky, was an Omega. 

And there was no mistaking it for anything else. Because what else could they – this Omega – be ? The Scent of distress, the way something animalistic in them responds to it, the complete and utter instinct inside of Yagi urging him to run and comfort them.

All of it pointed to the obvious.

Except, it wasn’t obvious – he and the frozen hero’s around him begged to differ, but begging doesn’t make the problem – the Omega – any less real; it didn’t make the Omega and the rift in the sky go away. They would be subpar Heroes if they expected it to, they wouldn’t be Heroes at all, really.

And Yagi wouldn’t be a Hero if he didn’t learn to roll with the punches. He wouldn’t have the nerve to call himself a Hero, otherwise.

Let’s roll back a few minutes, or hours, before this –  this disaster.  

Not that, he was sure, the rest was any less of a fiasco. But – imagine this. Yagi, now All Might was patrolling Musutafu, not his usual route but – Nedzu had asked for a favour, and he needed an excuse to do something different lately. Routine, he found at his age, has become something of a cage. It was stifling, and something inside him craved for something new.

And later, he would soon regret that craving. As it  was answered in the form of a small city and a crack in the sky. And an Omega.

The thing was, was that – it was beautiful in a way forbidden was . In a way it wasn’t supposed to exist; in a way it wasn’t, exactly, supposed to be. It was horrifying – as if staring at a monstrosity beyond the mind's comprehension; he felt cold sweat drip down his back; cold dread down his spine; every hair on his body stood as he froze . Still as a statue, if not for the slight trembling of his hands – and it’s only through his training as a Hero that he doesn’t shake . 

Some of the heroes around him, new and old, did.

What, exactly, is the protocol for this? He couldn’t help but think, a slightly hysterical edge to his thought. He doubted anyone could blame him, if they heard him think. Shaking and frozen as his coworkers around him were. Because – really, what the fuck was this? 

A faultline in the sky, was what it was. A faultline and –

The scent hit all of them like a train. Left them confused, incoherent, and in disbelief. Almost in denial.

“An Omega,” someone whispered in horrified awe, a crack in the silence around them – a contrast to the screaming of the civilians that were now being ushered by the other Heroes now arriving at the scene. All Might, despite himself, couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. 

Because here, a faultline, and here, as the dust and debri settled, as it all became clearer; as the scent became all the more prominent – on top of the crater, distressed and very much alive , was an Omega; emerging from a streak of light coming from the rift in the sky –

Just like a shooting star hitting the ground. Except, this was no meteor, far from it. 

Processing the fact that an Omega was in front of them took time, but watching and feeling didn’t. Case in point, All Might felt his instincts at war, the urge to go and – and take and bundle her up and at the same time fight whoever had her distressed in the first place collided, and all he could do was worry and stand and tremble, hands clenched to a fist, nails digging into the palm of his hands and sure enough, it would have bled if he didn’t consciously try to relax.

The Omega was hurt, he saw that easily enough, torn clothes, scratches and bruises on her face. Tensed and distressed and in anguish. And small, something inside him whispered. Small and defenceless. But not weak, he could tell, call it instinct, ironed through his years of being a Hero. Or maybe something else – but he knew she was anything but weak.

(It was damning how something inside him – how his Alpha purred at the thought.)

“What do we do?” A Hero whispered, just to his right. Unsure and so clearly new to the job that All Might sympathised for them, for them to have this happen straight out of the bat was plain bad luck.

And yet still, there was no doubt that the Hero had just voiced out what everyone was thinking all the same. 

“Call for medical,” All Might said, once it was clear that they were all looking at him for guidance, and after a pause, he added. “Call Nedzu.”

He was about to say more. Call for backup, request for Beta Heroes and medics. As much as possible avoid Alpha’s. All of that, however, died the moment the Omega transformed. Quirk filling the air, the atmosphere. Eerily similar to how Endeavour unleashed his Quirk – hot on the skin, sweat inducing but unlike him, it felt warm, safe, comforting.

It felt – amazingly powerful and awe inspiring. To feel and to witness. Watching how this gold aura enveloped the Omega, shaping up to be this – some sort of fox, tall and large – so large that she towered over all of them and then some until all they could see was shadow and gold-like flames, several tails swishing behind her, lazily, then alert.

And then she jumped . And suddenly it was like watching the sun come to be. 

All Might knew he was strong, knew the strength of his punches intimately, how it left debri and wind currents in his wake, how it was – if he ever threw something – faster than sound. But he was never, as he found, never on the receiving end of it.

And now, he could say he was. Just not by him . 

Because the jump was just that – powerful. Enough so that all of them were thrown back despite how some of them had their Quirks dug down the asphalt. Enough that the crate on the ground deepened once more and cracked as she reached and reached for the faultline in the sky. Something like desperation fueling her every action, etched on the lines of her face.

And yet, despite the strength of it, despite the utter resolve fueling it – she didn’t make it, missing a few mere breadths away; so close and yet too far; gravity a cruel mistress. Her hand stretched, up and up and up but it was all in vain and she plunged back down to the ground, efforts gone within a flash – a mere second, not even minutes. Through it all, All Might watched all of this with his breath caught in his throat, eyes tracked down to the sides of her face, to the despair and realisation in her eyes, to the crushed hope and anguish that settled into her very being. 

Her scream – the misery in her voice, the despair coating it – only brought home as to what, exactly, she is. Who she is, and what she symbolised for all of society. For them.  

The weight of the realisation, the knowledge, settled into his bones easily, frighteningly so. As if he was waiting for this very moment. As if his Alpha knew this moment was coming, not when, just that it would.

Unbidden, a memory comes to mind with startling clarity. A distressed Omega, will wreak havoc among the Alpha’s. Their distress awakens an Alpha’s protective instinct in ways another Alpha or Beta could never; the instincts to protect, to guard, to claim, to destroy. 

An Alpha would raze cities for them. Towns, countries – nations, governments. The world, if need be.

Back then, he thought nothing much of it. Far too young, naive. Confident, even, in his own self-control. Confident that he was different – different from those Alphas, confident that he had his instincts under control. It didn’t matter much of what he thought, then, anyway. Most of the population had gone through all their lives not meeting, much less seeing, an Omega and he knew he would be no different regardless of the life he held now.

So of course, he would be proven wrong in more ways than one. 

He wasn’t stronger than his instincts, wasn’t stronger than his Alpha part, his self-control wasn’t strong enough to stop his fangs from peeking, from keeping his growl in check – from keeping the urge to destroy hidden. His Quirk flowing to his arms then surrounding his body in yellow sparks of electricity, fueling him, empowering him as if he was once again new to his Quirk; teeth gritting, throat closed from how much he wanted to howl. 

It’s almost a blessing that he wasn’t the only Alpha experiencing the exact same thing, no matter how much that thought grated that possessive Alpha-instincts howling at him, chanting in his mind; mine, mine, mine. Claim, destroy, distressed mate. It’s a wonder he can hear any of his thoughts at all.

Alpha’s would raze cities down just to make their Omega’s happy. He could see that now; understand that now. Because All Might wasn’t far off from doing the exact same thing, wasn’t far off from going completely and utterly feral. And what a fact that was – for him, the number one Hero, to think and feel and know deep in his bones he would and could do it. He would destroy governments, he would raze countries, nations – the world if it kept the Omega safe – happy .

(They would destroy the world, if need be. Summon disasters, take over countries, kill. All for an Omega. All to make them happy. All to keep them safe.)

And Yagi didn’t even know her name.

You’re a Hero , he reminds himself, taking deep breaths, willing his legs to move to help – you’re a Hero. Not a newborn Alpha. It was jarring, how much that thought did next to nothing. Heroism had nothing in the face of an Omega in need of help and an Alpha itching to protect. A distressed Omega would wreak havoc amidst Alpha’s. That was almost an understatement. Scratch that, it wasn’t almost , it was.

“Call for Beta’s .” All Might managed to grit out through the haze of feral instinct clouding his mind and body. His fangs prick his lips and he licks it away, the sharp tang of metal piercing through his mind, if only ever so slightly. Deep breaths, Toshinori, deep breaths.

He took back everything he said about routines. Half-heartedly, he swore to love them starting now.

“Remove the compromised Alpha’s on the scene, now .” he barked when the Heroes didn't move, a rare show of aggression – command. Adrenaline now fueled his veins, instincts versus rational competed to take a spot in his mind, his thinking; his actions . Never before had he been so at war with his Alpha as he was now. It was raging inside him, clawing his very being – his mind, howling and howling with no rhyme or reason. Claim, claim, claim, mark, mark, mark. Mine, mine, mine.

Protect, destroy, take, claim. Repeating the same mantra, over and over again. Protect, destroy, take, claim. He had to make an effort to keep the echo of Alpha out of his tone, only slipping up once – and even then he made a conscious effort to keep it – mild, unaggressive. Just, firm. An order to be followed but nothing more, nothing less. Nothing about the possessiveness pooling into his mind, or about the echoes of aggression, the type of aggression that spoke of deep-seeded violence and willingness to kill.

It was the antithesis to everything he's ever worked for, lived for, shed blood, sweat and tears for. His resolve that once was like the burning sun now was reduced to a campfire – and even then it was flickering precariously, as if it was going to give out to a mere breeze flowing its way. All of this happening mere moments from meeting – no, not even meeting, seeing an Omega, hurt and confused and lost.

It took a few moments to realise the quiet that now enveloped them – a few moments to chance a look at the Omega. The scent wafting towards and around the now meagre amount of Hero’s now beside and behind him; not as in distress, not as in agony but just as despairing as it was earlier. 

“Backup now in the area,” The comm buzzed, and just as the message was relayed, All Might felt the presence of several Heroes – thankfully, all Beta’s – arrived behind them. 

“We were briefed about the situation,” A Hero said, and All Might recognized him as Crimson Riot. All Might took a step back, reluctantly, he could tell,  but thankfully not noticed by the rest, who – were they not filled in on the situation, Pro-Heroes or not, would have been struck dumb by the mere scent in the air. As it was, all the newcomers did much better than the prior team and merely stared, some had even gasped as they took a step closer.

Those were the ones that almost made him growl — hackles that would have been raised if he didn’t make a conscious effort to relax, to take a deep breath. Soothed himself by taking an inch closer to the Omega; and of course, that worked better than the rest of his methods for reasons he’s not going to name – couldn’t name even if he wanted to. Because he didn’t know – if this was just instincts speaking and nothing more, or what that more even entailed, or if it entailed anything at all.

He could say that he wouldn’t know what he’d do if there was more , if there was something else underneath all the instinct and Alpha. He could deny, claim ignorance – and to an extent, he was ignorant – but, that would be a lie. 

Because he did know what he would do, just as he knew what he would do now , in all of this mess and confusion; what he has been tempted to do. All Might – Toshinori – would destroy everything he worked hard for, he would become the very thing he swore to fight against. He would kill, he would destroy his burning resolve and make a new one – and it would be all the more stronger than it was before, solely for one person. One for All would renew as something else.

And the worst part was that he knew that he would regret nothing in doing so. His mentor would weep – would roll on his grave, Gran Torino would destroy him for even thinking about it – everyone he knew would seek to get rid of him, would turn away from him – and he would regret nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The thought was chilling, as it was comforting – not quite to his rational mind but instead to his Alpha. Protect, protect, protect. It cooed, and purred. Appeased by his thoughts of his slowly, newly and building resolve and of his crumbling one, no matter how much he wanted to stop it from doing so –

You are a Hero , Toshinori, he told himself, the words weak even in his thoughts. A Hero, devoted to the people, devoted to the masses, devoted to peace . Words that once filled him with warmth; determination; purpose instead made him feel – empty. Like ash on his tongue; something incomplete, something not quite right. Oh, he still believed in it – he would still do it, it was his dream, it was his promise. An oath he took the moment he accepted One for All, one he made to his mentor, to the world at large . But –

Toshinori wasn’t quite sure if it was his priority anymore.

But it also wasn’t something he should be thinking about in the situation he was in; half watching the newcomers and half watching the Omega – as if he wasn’t already; he made sure his body was slanted to get the best of both worlds; taking note of what was being asked and what the answers were. The more professional part of him taking the reins — if only slightly, his instincts were still at war; a part of him was still howling to take over; clawing and biting and fighting, and it took a lot more to remain and be professional than he cared to admit. But – 

He wouldn’t be the best Hero if he didn’t learn to roll with the punches, to adapt. To learn. To control, no matter how well that was going.

“The area around us is cleared and the civilians have been evacuated,” another Hero informed him, kaleidoscope eyes swirling — he didn’t recognize them, which only meant that they were either new or not one of UA’s alumni. Admittedly, he doesn’t quite keep track of new upcoming Heroes, or ones that he didn’t regularly see during his patrols, or work with. 

He really should work on that, All Might thought guiltily, doing his best to keep the smile on his face – never fear, for I am here! Rang in his head, reminded him of who he was now ; All Might – and not his Alpha. Not Toshinori. 

“The only problem is…” The Hero gestured to the Omega, helplessly and not for the first time, he couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. It was as if they were all thinking the same thing, felt the same helpless-confusion and were asking the same question of what do we even do? Are there even protocols for this?

Protocols, All Might thought, if there even were any, he doubted it was even used, much less taught and remembered. Omegas, after all, were thought to be extinct, or at the very least, near nonexistent. Rarity couldn’t even begin to describe it. 

“We have some of the medical team over — Beta’s.” The Hero said after a pause, carefully watching for his reaction in a way that made him wonder and pause, too. But before he could say anything, the Hero beat him to it.

“All of the Alpha’s were asked to leave.” The Hero who’s alias he should really ask for said, “Especially the ones who were most compromised. HQ said that you could stay in case the Omega posed any danger but you don’t have to.” they added, earnest and sincere.  

Which really didn’t make any of what All Might was feeling to their words any fair. 

It was like the wind got knocked out of him – as if he got hit with a strong enough punch to deflate and leave him blind for a few minutes; minutes that felt like hours upon hours in pitch black darkness. It was almost dramatic, how a few select words could leave him feeling as such; as if the words themselves were fueled with the type of Quirk that could open up your mental state and fill you up with anger – pure, unadulterated anger. The possessive type of anger that only awakened through a few select words – except, no, it needed just one, really: leave.

All of the Alpha’s were asked to leave. Maybe make that a sentence. All Might was careful to let none of the – frankly irrational anger – show on his face. But he was sure, if anyone looked close enough – knew him enough – that they would find the frozen smile on his face suspicious. Worse yet, they would find him compromised.

And they would be right to think so. 

The right thing to do would be to leave, objectively All Might knew he should do that. Worse yet, he should have left the command to a more qualified Hero the moment he felt a shift inside him — before that, even, should have done it the moment his Alpha howled, the moment he felt his Heroic resolve crumble and soften. And yet—and yet.

He found that he was becoming more and more reluctant to do the right; sane, and even Heroic thing when it came to the Omega in front of all of them. The Omega who still smelt distressed; looked distressed; who was still on the crate, looking just as heart wrenched as she was before. 

Who was the cause of All Might’s dilemma – crisis, really – right this moment, and was entirely unaware of it. Rightly so, considering how they didn’t know each other one bit.

The right – the Heroic, the responsible, the correct – thing to do would be to leave. 

Pass on the command to a more qualified, uncompromised Hero; no matter how much his Alpha snarled and clawed and howled at the mere thought of having another person, having another potential mate near the – soon, theirs; soon his – Omega; All Might – the number one Hero, someone who promised, vowed, swore to prioritise the people first and his wants second – should do that. Needed to do that. 

Because if there was a protocol for this type of situation, it would be this. Because if he stayed any longer, he wasn’t confident that he could keep any of his thoughts hidden any longer. Because if he stayed, it would be as if he stepped in another world, opened doors that should have remained closed; indulged in his instincts, in his Alpha.

His campfire, that once blazed like the sun, would flicker and die. Another one would burn anew in its place, stronger and stronger , blazing without care or worry; casting deep, dark shadows upon the people who nurtured it; warming their skin until it became unbearable; and then – it would burn down forests’, towns, people. It would grow stronger from them, it would do as it pleases, because doors have opened and it will not close and no one will be able to stop it.

All for one person, all for one . It was a chilling thought – and it was telling how he didn’t shy away from it. 

( What had he become? A horrified part of him thought, asked, begged. Who have you become?)

All Might knew this, he suspected it, at the very least. And yet still, he smiled and said. “Not to worry, young Hero. It would be much safer for me to be around. Lest the feral Omega attack us.” 

And instantly, the Hero knew what he meant and paled and nodded. It was impossible to not feel the sheer power of the Omega’s transformation, the sheer magnitude of it. It was as awe-inspiring as it was terror-inducing. All Might wasn’t surprised that it was felt ways away from where they were; he would be surprised if it wasn’t.

“Right, of course!” The Hero said, nodding furiously and straightened. “That would be for the best, as of right now we were given instructions to calm the Omega down and someone with that specific Quirk was brought here to do just that.”

“Oh?” All Might said, tamping down the hackles that were raised at the thought of another person moving near the Omega.

“Yeah, it’s – ah, there he is.” The Hero nodded to someone who looked like he was from the medical team. Lightly glowing – a product of his Quirk, no doubt – and in a pale blue attire. “That’s Izumi-san, from the medical.” they said, proving All Might’s thoughts correct.

“Hello, All Might-san.” Izumi said, upon approaching them. “It’s an honour to work with you, I wish we had the time to exchange pleasantries but…” he gave an apologetic smile.

Izumi’s polite words only made All Might all the more guilty with his unwarranted aggression, no matter how hidden it may be.

“No, I suppose we don’t have much time for it, indeed.” All Might said, the words tasting like ash on his tongue, “Our work awaits no one.”

The people first, his wants second.

Izumi smiled, unaware of All Might's thoughts, his questions; his wants. He smiled as if he was admiring All Might; as if he was thankful. When the man should be anything but.

“Then let’s get to work.” Izumi said, nodding at him. “As you already know, my Quirk can manipulate a person's emotions. But in doing so I need to be in close contact with them, not touching, but close – and distracted.”

All Might instantly understood. “Very well, I’ll be following closely behind and draw her attention away. Enough so you can do your work.” he said, “there are also Pro-Heroes around the site keeping a close eye on what’s happening, ready to neutralise if need be.”

The mere thought grated something in him, but he did his best to push it aside. Now, after all, was not the time to think deeply on it.

“Alright, then, let’s go.” Izumu said, drawing a deep breath. And around him, the soft glow flickered to a calming blue.

From the moment they stepped near, All Might knew it wasn’t going to end well. 

Their close proximity obviously enough only did to further distress and anger the Omega, their bared necks and calming scents were of no help; furthermore, Izumi couldn’t get close enough to truly use his Quirk with how much her hackles were raised – All Might tried to distract her; neck bared, hands up in a show of peace – but; with how much she was tense and raring to attack, to maim – it only proved to incense her more. And yet, something seemed to be stopping her from – lunging in. From ripping them apart, from transforming; from using her Quirk.

Perhaps it was her injuries, but that wasn’t exactly right either; her eyes were haunted, her every action desperate and hurt. Her scent in agony. More and more he realised that there was something more to her, more to this . Much they all didn’t know, and was soon to find out. 

But he had no chance to ask; Izumi failed to calm her – 

Because in one breath and the next; in a golden burst of energy and power; she transformed and jumped – 

And it was like she was never there in the first place.

And all All Might could think of was her violet eyes and the strength in them.