The room was dark.
Not from lack of lighting—the mansion had power, generators, backups upon backups—but because All For One preferred it that way. Darkness was honest.
It didn't pretend to illuminate what couldn't be seen.
And right now, there was much he couldn't see.
He sat in his high-backed chair, fingers steepled, breathing steady through the ventilation system that kept his ruined body functional.
The television across from him played the news. Another story about the U.A. attack. Another analysis of the "mysterious author revelation."
Rei Takumi.
The name had been circling his thoughts for days now.
"Doctor," he said, his voice a low rasp that carried through the empty room.
A door opened. Footsteps. The Doctor emerged from the shadows, clipboard in hand, that perpetual manic energy barely restrained behind his professional demeanor.
"Yes, sensei?"
"Has any news returned?"
"Indeed. However, none bearing good news." The doctor replied, finding no need to consult his notes.
"Our contacts have confirmed that Tomura's body is not in police custody. Our attempts to locate Kurogiri through tracking have proved inconclusive as well. Regretfully, I would theorize that their corpses have most likely been disposed of."
"I see."
The voice was calm, contemplative. His face obscured by the darkness, Doctor Garaki couldn't make much of his master's expression, nor could he speculate how he felt at the moment.
The broadcast kept going, voice smooth and bright, as if reading from a script meant to entertain rather than inform.
[While authorities have not released official statements, sources confirm the boy was present during the attack on U.A. and may have played a key role in preventing casualties. This comes just three days after the incident that left the League of Villains presumed destroyed. Police believe the assault's leaders, Tomura Shigaraki and Kurogiri, were killed by an unidentified individual using a shadow-based Quirk. No bodies were recovered.]
All For One turned the volume down and sat back, silent.
He stared at the frozen image of the boy on the screen.
Rei Takumi. Or Ken Takumi. The name didn't matter.
So this was how it had all turned out.
Tomura's death had made headlines, but this—this—was what the public was actually talking about. A teenager who'd become a national celebrity overnight. The media had all but forgotten the League. The attack, the deaths, the failure.
All washed away under the noise of a bestselling author reveal.
And here he though Hero society had no more surprises left to bring him.
Tomura had planned to use it differently.
All For One remembered the conversation clearly—his apprentice excited by the irony of it. The Symbol of Peace being killed by one of his own students, a student whose words were shaping the nation's culture. A death that would shake society from both ends at once.
He could imagine how furious Tomura would be in the afterlife, learning that his plan hadn't even hit the evening news before being discarded to the back page.
'What a pity.'
Pity. This was all Zen Shigaraki felt for the death of his cherished apprentice. The loss of his valuable chess piece, the current cornerstone of his plans, ideals and ambitions. His vessel and most perfect successor, gone.
For the first time in years, his heart ached ... Barely for a fraction of a second, before being swallowed by the empty void that had long since engulfed it.
What use was there fretting over something that had no value?
The plan had failed. All Might survived, U.A emerged unscathed and whatever dent the plan had made on people's trust in Hero Society had been swept aside by the current headlines.
However, something needed proper addressing.
He opened one of the reports again, eyes moving over the lines. No data transmission. No trace of their location. No signal from Kurogiri. No backup.
That was the part that bothered him.
He'd expected setbacks. Losses. Even total mission failure was within the realm of possibility.
But Tomura's death? That wasn't supposed to happen.
Kurogiri had been built for one purpose—to keep Tomura alive. If Tomura died, it meant Kurogiri had fallen first. Reports stated U.A's hero course students being rescued from the outskirts of the city. Kurogiri's last known location was exactly at that point. His tracker went offline during the incident and the emergency beacon never activated. While all Might had been in U.A all along.
He tapped his finger slowly against the desk. No bodies. No camera feeds. No trace energy. Only speculation.
He had calculated everything, and decided that Tomura's exercise was worth the risk. Unfortunately, a variable had occured. And from the looks of it, the very same variable that occured earlier.
Project 47. If Tomura could guess it, so could he. All Might still lived. Meaning either Tomura never got the chance to interact with the NOMU Prototype, or something went wrong when he did.
"The mental conditioning failed," All For One said. It wasn't a question, or an uncertain statement.
All For One had lived for over a century. He'd orchestrated the rise and fall of hero societies across the globe. He'd stolen thousands of quirks, ended countless lives, shaped the world from the shadows with patience that would outlast nations.
And in all that time, very few things had genuinely surprised him.
This was one of them.
The Doctor adjusted his glasses nervously. "That seems unlikely, sensei. We followed standard protocols. The neural implants were verified before release—"
"And yet here we are," All For One interrupted, his tone calm but carrying an edge that made the Doctor fall silent.
All For One turned his attention back to the muted television.
Footage of Rei Takumi's house, surrounded by reporters and curious onlookers. The boy's face was everywhere now—newspapers, websites, social media. His identity exposed, his past revealed, his existence amplified from obscurity to celebrity overnight.
Interesting timing.
"What do we know about his abilities?" All For One asked.
"Limited practical data," the Doctor admitted. "Those documented by the Hero Commission— Do you suspect he could he have killed them?" the Doctor asked quietly, voicing the question All For One had been circling.
"Possible," All For One acknowledged. "He's shown two quirks. That doesn't mean there aren't more."
This misjudged variable had thrown a wrench in the gears of his plans. Years of preparation, grooming and grinding Tomura to become the next symbol of evil, wasted.
"What do you want to do, sensei?" the Doctor asked.
All For One was quiet for a very long time.
Finally: "Nothing."
The Doctor blinked. "Sensei?"
"We do nothing," All For One repeated, his tone measured. "I've lived long enough to recognize when a situation requires patience rather than action. Right now, we have no concrete evidence of what happened to Shigaraki and Kurogiri. We have only suspicions and variables."
He gestured to the television, where Rei Takumi's face still dominated the coverage.
"This boy has just become the most visible teenager in Japan. Every move he makes will be watched, documented, analyzed. If he was somehow responsible for my successors' disappearance, acting against him now would only draw attention we can't afford—especially with All Might still active and U.A. on high alert."
"So we wait," the Doctor concluded.
"We observe," All For One corrected. "There's a difference. Have our information networks monitor him. Quietly. I want to know where he goes, what he does, who he associates with. But no direct action. No attempts at recruitment or elimination. Not yet."
"And if he proves to be a threat?"
All For One's ruined face turned toward the Doctor, and though his eyes were gone, the weight of his regard was palpable.
"Then we'll deal with him when the time is right. I've waited decades for my plans to come to fruition. I can wait a bit longer to see what this interesting variable becomes."
He turned back to the television.
"In the meantime, we rebuild. Shigaraki is gone, but the infrastructure remains. The Nomu research continues. My body recovers. And All Might grows weaker with each passing day."
His fingers drummed once against the armrest.
"One boy, however talented, doesn't change the fundamental equation. Heroes rise and fall. Society shifts and evolves. But I endure. I always have."
The Doctor bowed slightly. "As you say, sensei."
"Leave me," All For One commanded. "I have much to consider."
The Doctor retreated, footsteps fading, door closing softly.
All For One sat alone in the darkness, surrounded by monitors and machines that kept his broken body functional, and contemplated the variables.
Interesting.
Very interesting indeed.
But not urgent.
Not yet.
He had time.
He always had time.
___
MUSTAFU, Japan.
The gates of U.A. High School had become a warzone of a different kind.
No villains. No combat. Just cameras, microphones, and the relentless pressure of public curiosity weaponized through journalism.
"—comment on the attack?"
"—true that Takumi-san fought villains during—"
"—students feel safe returning to—"
Midoriya Izuku hunched his shoulders and tried to make himself smaller as he pushed through the crowd of reporters. It wasn't working. His green hair and obvious U.A. uniform marked him as clearly as a target.
"Excuse me! You're in Class 1-A, correct? Can you tell us about Rei Takumi?"
"I—um—" Midoriya stammered, face flushing red.
"Is it true he's the author K.T.R.T.? Did you know?"
"Were you aware of his identity before the leak?"
"Please, I just—I need to get to class—"
"MOVE IT!"
An explosion of sound and heat cleared the space around them instantly. Reporters stumbled back, cameras swinging toward the source.
Bakugo Katsuki stormed through the gap he'd created, hands smoking, expression murderous.
"Back off before I make you back off," he snarled, veins throbbing on his forehead.
"Kacchan—" Midoriya started.
"Shut up, Deku. Keep walking."
They pushed through together, Bakugo's aggressive, ticked off aura creating a bubble of space that even the most persistent reporters hesitated to breach.
Behind them, other Class 1-A students were having similar experiences.
Uraraka smiled apologetically as she floated over a cluster of microphones. "Sorry! Late for class! Maybe later!"
Iida chopped his hands mechanically while speed-walking past questions. "Please respect U.A. property boundaries! This is highly inappropriate!"
Todoroki simply walked through the crowd like it didn't exist, face blank, ignoring every question with the practiced ease of someone who'd dealt with media attention his entire life.
There were those among the class who actively sought such attention though. However ...
"Hey. I'm over here. Don't you want a story or something? Hey! Look down!"
In the midst of the reporters, yet being ignored for his poor height, Mineta yelled at the top of his lungs.
Yaoyorozu tried to be polite: "I appreciate your interest, but I'm not authorized to make statements on behalf of—"
"Just one question about—"
"I really can't—"
Jirou grabbed her arm. "Come on. They're not going to stop."
They ran.
By the time Class 1-A assembled in their homeroom, everyone looked various degrees of harassed.
"That was insane," Kaminari groaned, slumping into his desk. "There were like fifty reporters out there!"
"Fifty-seven," Yaoyorozu corrected automatically, then caught herself. "Not that I was counting."
"This is so unmanly," Kirishima muttered. "Swarming students like that."
"They just want their story, ribbit," Asui observed. "We're the class that survived a villain attack and has a celebrity author. That's newsworthy."
"Yeah." Mineta gulped exaggeratedly. "Those reporter ladies were all over me ..."
"Ribbit. No one was watching you Mineta."
"HEY!"
"Speaking of which," Ashido leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity despite the chaos, "where is Takumi-kun? His desk is empty."
All eyes turned to the vacant seat near the back.
"Where is ..."
"TAKUMI!!!" Bakugo's roar cut through everything.
"YOU PIECE OF SHIT! YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME THEN MAKE ME ENJOY YOUR WRITING? I'M GONNA NUKE YOU INTO NEXT WEEK!"
"KAACHAN. Calm down."
"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN."
Bakugo stormed into the room. Eyes sweeping over everyone like an enraged bull.
"WHERE IS HE?"
"Maybe he's running late?" Hagakure suggested. "I mean, with everything going on..."
"Doubt it," Jirou said. "He doesn't seem like the type to be late."
"TCH." Bakugo crossed his arms, glaring at nothing. "Probably couldn't handle the attention and bailed."
"Kacchan! Don't say that!" Midoriya protested. "I'm sure there's a good reason—"
"There is."
Everyone jumped.
Aizawa stood in the doorway, looking somehow even more exhausted than usual. His capture weapon hung loose around his neck, and he carried what appeared to be an entire convenience store's worth of energy drinks.
He trudged to his desk, set down the drinks, and turned to face the class.
"Takumi won't be attending regular classes," he said without preamble. "As you all know, he's been on modified enrollment status since day one. Well that takes effect now."
Confused murmurs rippled through the class.
"How Aizawa Sensei?" Yaoyorozu asked carefully. "I thought he just had a different schedule."
"Given recent circumstances, his schedule is being adjusted further."
"So... he's not coming back?" Uraraka's voice was small.
"He's still enrolled at U.A.," Aizawa clarified. "You'll see him around campus. He'll be living in the dorms once they're completed. But his day-to-day schedule is separate from yours. It's not my place to disclose, so you can ask him when you see him yourself."
"U.A has dorm rooms?" Mineta asked wide-eyed. "Why am I just hearing of this?"
"It's a new arrangement."
"Why does he get special treatment?"
Aizawa's red eyes fixed on him. "Because his circumstances are different. His abilities are different. His needs are different. Life isn't fair, Mineta. Get used to it."
"No fair. I could write a killer story too if I wanted to. I want equality—"
"And I want to go home and take a long nice nap, so I guess we're both out of luck." Aizawa Interrupted, his voice turning hard.
"His situation is his business, not yours. Not the media's. His. If he wants to share details, he will. Until then, you treat him like any other schoolmate when you see him. No interrogations. No gossip. No feeding information to reporters."
His gaze swept the room.
"Is that clear?"
A chorus of "Yes, sensei" answered him.
"Good." Aizawa pulled out what looked like lesson plans, then paused. "One more thing. I know you're all curious. I know some of you want to reach out, offer support, whatever. That's fine. But give him space. He's dealing with a lot right now."
Midoriya's hand twitched toward his phone in his pocket. He'd tried texting Ken twice last night. No response.
"Now then," Aizawa continued, "let's talk about yesterday's disaster. We have a lot to review regarding emergency protocols and—"
The lesson began, but more than a few students found their attention drifting to the empty desk near the back.