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Chapter 47: Scars and Shadows
🕑 Added 2025-10-19 10:31:53 +0000 UTC"Blood pressure is stable, Master. Neurological response remains limited, but there is activity."
Dr. Garaki's voice was a low murmur, a clinical report against the soft beeping of the machinery that filled the lab.
"The artificial lungs are functioning at ninety eight percent capacity. Soft tissue regeneration in the torso and limbs is progressing faster than anticipated."
Garaki paused, consulting a tablet.
"But the facial reconstruction, the optic nerves and the main bone structure... it's a slow process."
A raspy, static filled sound came from the speaker built into the life support mask that covered what was once a face.
"...Full... report..."
Garaki bowed immediately, his tone shifting from clinical to servile. "Of course, Master. The damage to the lower jaw and palate remains the biggest obstacle to natural speech. But the tissue grafts are responding. In time..."
"Time... is a luxury." The voice cut out, followed by a wet, choked sound. "That day... I underestimated... his rage."
"Yes, Master," Garaki whispered, more to himself than to his patient.
The figure on the bed tensed, an almost imperceptible spasm that made the readings on a nearby monitor jump.
"...I still remember..."
All For One's mind drifted back, pulling him away from the sterile lab and into a day of storms and blood.
The sky was a mass of black and violent clouds. The intense wind threw the rain in horizontal sheets and ripped trees from the soaked earth. On a remote island that appeared on no map, nature itself seemed to convulse as two forces clashed.
All Might panted, his chest heaving spasmodically. Blood pooled at the corner of his lips, mixing with the rain that lashed his face. His suit, the symbol of an era, was in tatters, and his body was marked with deep cuts and rapidly spreading bruises. Every breath was a battle.
Across from him, All For One floated a few inches above the rocky ground, a figure of unnatural calm in the middle of the chaos. His dark suit was impeccable, and a smirk of satisfaction was on his face. The storm did not seem to touch him.
"Tired already, Symbol of Peace?"
All For One's voice did not need to shout to be heard over the roar. It was a quiet, condescending taunt.
"This is disappointing. I thought Nana Shimura's pet would have a little more stamina." He paused, letting the name hang in the air. "She, at least, knew how to die with some style."
The name, and the cruel description that followed, made the golden energy surrounding All Might flicker violently.
"Shut your mouth, monster."
All Might's voice was a low, deep growl.
"Today you end! I swear it on her memory!"
He lunged forward, a golden blur that left a trail in the rain heavy air. His fist was aimed at the center of his enemy's face. But All For One slipped aside effortlessly, almost lazily. Tendrils of black and red energy sprouted from his fingertips and plunged into the ground. An instant later, lances of sharp rock and pale bone erupted from the earth, shooting toward All Might from all directions.
It was a distraction. A simple trick.
While All Might, in his fury, was forced to pivot and pulverize the lances with a barrage of blows that shook the island, the real attack came: an invisible and perfectly focused shockwave that All For One fired from his open palm.
The blow struck his abdomen and ruptured him from the inside.
He felt his organs liquefy. A burning white void appeared where his stomach had been. The pain was so absolute that his mind shut down for a fraction of a second. The scream that tried to leave his throat became a choked gasp as the air was forced from his lungs. He fell to his knees, his body trembling uncontrollably. He coughed, and a surge of blood poured from his mouth, staining the soaked ground at his feet a dark red.
All For One landed softly in front of him, the sound of his shoes on the wet rock almost inaudible. He leaned in, his face inches from All Might's, savoring the moment.
"It's over, All Might," he said, his voice a whisper of pure victory. "Your era ends here. On this nameless rock, forgotten. You have failed. You failed to protect your master, and now you fail to protect a future you will never see. No one will remember your name."
He extended a hand, feigning a comforting pat on the fallen hero's shoulder.
But seeing the impassive mask, hearing Nana's name defiled again, something inside All Might ignited. The rage of a man who had everything taken from him, again and again, by the monster before him.
With a roar that did not sound human, a guttural scream of pure agony and hatred, he launched himself forward from his knees.
He grabbed the arm All For One was condescendingly offering him.
And he pulled.
He pulled with every ounce of strength left in his shattered body, with all the accumulated fury of a lifetime of loss, with all the power of One For All concentrated into a single act of desperate, brutal violence.
There was a horrific sound, a wet crunch and a tear of flesh and bone that drowned out the sound of the thunder.
All For One screamed. He looked down, at his own shoulder, and then at All Might's hand. He saw his own arm, torn off, still clutched by the hero. Blood gushed from the open wound, but even that did not seem to register in his shocked mind.
While the villain was off balance, stunned for an instant, All Might used that opening. He used his last ounce of strength. He staggered to his feet, his body a wreck of internal injuries screaming in protest. He gathered what little remained of One For All, the last of his power, in his right fist. The energy crackled around him, a golden storm within the natural one.
"FOR NANA!"
His voice was a scream that tore through the air.
"UNITED... STATES... OF... SMASH!"
The impact of the punch was a detonation. A point blank annihilation.
It connected directly with his enemy's face.
The face no one had seen in a century had no time to register anything before it disintegrated. The shockwave that followed the blow wiped out half the island, pulverizing cliffs and sending a gigantic wave across the raging ocean.
When the dust and seawater settled, All Might was still standing, barely. His body trembled violently. He stood over the decapitated and mutilated body of his enemy. The rain, now softer, washed the blood from his face and knuckles. He felt One For All flicker and weaken inside him, about to be extinguished. He looked at the corpse at his feet.
"It's over," he whispered to the storm.
And with that last thought, he collapsed, unconscious, onto the devastated land.
Hours later, the storm had passed. The sea, once chaotic, was now strangely calm. The surface broke as a small black submarine emerged silently a few hundred meters from the shattered coast.
The hatch opened and Dr. Garaki stepped onto the deck, his face showing sheer panic. He held a small tracking device in his hand that was beeping faintly.
"Master! Respond! Master!" he shouted, his voice sounding small in the vastness.
He did not wait for the submarine to get closer. He jumped into the icy water and swam to shore, scrambling over the slippery rocks. He followed the trail of destruction. His feet splashed in the red tinted puddles.
"No, no, no..." he muttered to himself, his eyes wild.
All Might was gone. Someone, probably that lackey Gran Torino, had found him. Had rescued him.
But All For One's body was there. Or what was left of it. It was a grotesque sight. Garaki fell to his knees beside it, his composure finally breaking. A dry sob escaped his throat.
"No... Master. It can't be! After all this time... all the work... Damn you, All Might! Damn you!"
He slammed his fist on the ground, again and again. Just as hope was leaving him, when the thought of a future without his purpose paralyzed him, he saw it.
A faint tremor in the mangled flesh of the chest. An almost invisible spark.
He froze. He moved closer, not daring to breathe. There it was again. A Quirk. One of the hundreds All For One had accumulated. A forgotten survival Quirk, useless in combat, one that activated on the verge of death, fighting to keep a single cell of its master alive.
The doctor's panic transformed into a fanatical devotion. His eyes widened and a twisted smile spread across his face.
"He's alive," he whispered. "He's alive!"
He began to laugh, an unhinged sound that echoed off the silent rocks.
"Rest easy, Master," he said, his voice now a soothing whisper as he began the grim process of recovery, carefully dragging the remains of his master back toward the shore, back to the submarine. "I will take care of you. Don't worry. I will rebuild you."
Back in the present, in the cold sterility of the underground lab, All For One finished his memory. The rhythmic beep of the monitors was the only sound.
His voice, still faint through the speaker but now filled with a chilling clarity, broke the silence.
"Doctor. The Symbol of Peace... is he still alive?"
Dr. Garaki, who had been changing one of the intravenous fluid bags, turned sharply. For a moment, he seemed surprised by the question.
"Yes, Master. He is still alive."
There was a long silence. The figure on the bed did not move.
"Continue," the distorted voice ordered.
"He is... broken," Garaki said, choosing his words carefully. "It's impossible for the wound you inflicted on him to have fully healed. He has withdrawn from public life. His power has diminished drastically."
The silence that followed was heavier than before. Garaki waited, motionless.
"No."
The word was so sudden and sharp that the Doctor blinked. "Master?"
"Unacceptable."
All For One's voice began to gain strength, a vibration that seemed to shake the air in the room, as if it were drawing power from the very machinery keeping him alive.
"The world must see their Symbol of Peace at his peak, at the height of his power... and then they must see him extinguished. They must see their hope destroyed. By my hand."
"But Master, his power has faded. It's impossible for him to..."
"We will find a way," All For One interrupted. "Or we will create one. Accelerate my recovery, Doctor. I don't care about the cost. Use every resource. I want my body back. I want my voice back. I want my face back."
He paused, and his next command was a whisper filled with calculated cruelty.
"And prepare Tomura Shigaraki. He has a part to play in the final act."
"Understood, Master. What do you need me to do?"
"He needs a push. His hatred is pure, but it is unfocused." All For One's voice was now that of a strategist. "Find something to break him a little more. Something he truly hates. Or someone... he can begin to hate. Give him a target. A real, tangible enemy, not just 'society.' Make sure his hatred has nowhere to go... but forward."
"As you command, Master," Garaki said, bowing to the motionless figure.
All For One's goal was not the world. It was a personal, theatrical, and utterly devastating revenge against the man who had broken him.
"Now leave," the voice from the mask commanded. "I have to... get used to breathing again."
