Chapter Text
The story of All for One and his brother was never written down in history, their tale was lost to time. all that remained of the man who created the heroes who would one day defeat his brother was a quirk. One that was not meant to be his.
One that was not meant to be Izuku Shigaraki's.
Me and my brother had always been close. We were all we had. Our world was small but it was a world nonetheless. It was simply a silent agreement that we would stick together, Hisashi protecting the life we had created.
He had promised we would always stay together. I could never grasp why he had broken his vow, though I couldn't understand a lot of things my brother did. I'm getting off topic.
I suppose I should start where things started going wrong.
Our parents had never been close, it didn't matter if they were home or on one of their many work trips, they were always distant. I suppose that was why it was so easy to just rely on Hisashi. My brother had always been the stronger of us, the smarter one too. In a loving household he would have been showered in praise, though for the most part our parents ignored him. Things only got worse when his quirk came in, the neutrality our parents had shown turned to disgust. The nights became longer, Hisashi begging me to stay in my room when he went downstairs, only to return bloody and beaten. Money became scarce, probably wasted on alcohol and beer. We had vowed to never be like them, to never be hateful. It's almost funny.
My parents didn't even bother to fight for custody when my brother took me, though I couldn't blame them. I had always been a weak child, the first to stay in bed sick and the one most prone to injury. I had been so easy to take advantage of.
It had been small things to begin with, like the time my brother spent at work becoming longer, leaving early and coming home later each night. When I had asked if things were okay at work I had been brushed aside and told not to worry. I found myself sleeping most of the day after that, the time spent awake without my brother a blur.
I had no reason to be suspicious though, I had always been prone to illness, drowsiness wasn't anything new.
Then came the screams.
It was midday, Hisashi should have still been at work. I was making food when a noise snapped me out of my daze. Screams were nothing new but I hoped I had escaped them when we left our family home.
I'd never seen myself as a hero, my brother had better fitted that title, but I still ran- my instincts taking over. I ran from the house, quickly approaching the noise, the sudden urge to help drowning out all reason.
I had expected to see a thief- a strange person who would be unfamiliar.
I did not expect the unmistakable figure of my brother crouching over someone- a very dead someone, a cold look in his eyes, almost as if he was dead too.
A smile graced the hunched figure's face when he noticed my presence.
"Izuku," the man purred. "Shouldn't you be asleep?" it was only now I fully took in his appearance, hands bloody and his business suit still tidy. I wanted to scream or sob, to ask for an explanation- anything to escape this harsh reality, but words would not form, any attempt at sound stuck in my throat. He didn't seem to want an answer though. "I didn't think they'd be so loud, the stupid bitch was asking to die."
My eyes travelled to the body and I properly looked this time. She had a warm smile that seemed to belong to most mothers, the ones the other kids at school had been given. She had had a family. Would they miss her? Would they mourn? I wanted to look away, to forget about all this and go back to the life that was me and my brother shared, the one that was mundane and simple, but i didn't. I stay still, not for me but for her. It was all I could do. My eyes returned to the smug face of my brother- no, he wasn't the boy who had stayed with me at night, who had protected me when alcohol stole all comfort from our home or blocked my ears from our mothers harsh words. This was someone else, an imposter. Someone else wearing his skin. It had to be.
I glared at the man who was not my brother. I knew I could not fight him, nor could I outsmart him. all I could do was glare, hatred that had so recently been kindness filling the atmosphere. My throat still hurt but I managed choke out a question, one that I knew was pointless but felt necessary. "Why?"
The man only grinned, not bothering to answer, knowing nothing he could've told me would make me forgive him. He came closer, I tried to back away but found myself frozen. He reached out to me, placing his hand on my forehead. "Goodnight, little brother." With that I felt my conscious slipping and with it my helpless attempts at trying to convince myself of lies were far from the truth. I fell asleep with a whole new perspective than when I woke up.
I fell asleep knowing my brother was a murderer