The shockwave from the collision of fists tore through the USJ like a hurricane. Dust blasted outward. Metal groaned. Glass shattered in a ring around the plaza.
When the air finally cleared, All Might stood tall — one arm extended, fist still pressed against the Nomu's. His dress shirt sleeve hung in tatters, fluttering in the settling dust.
Behind him, Takeshi lay motionless.
His stone armor had cracked apart, flaking away in chunks. Blood seeped through the fractures in his skin. His breaths were shallow, ragged. His lips were turning blue. A thin stream of blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth.
All Might's eyes widened, a lifetime of experience as a pro told him exactly what he was looking at.
Collapsed lung. Internal bleeding. He's suffocating.
Takeshi's life was on a timer.
And the Nomu stood between him and saving his son.
A rage deeper than anything All Might had ever known ignited inside him — a primal, consuming fury that burned away every restraint he'd ever held.
This had to end. Now.
The Nomu snarled, pushing harder, its massive muscles bulging as it tried to overpower the Symbol of Peace.
All Might's heels dug into the ground, concrete splintering beneath him.
His eyes blazed.
Consequences be damned. His limit be damned. For the first time in his life, he had a son who needed him — and he would not fail him.
Just for a few seconds, he reached for power deeper than ever before. Praying to anyone that would listen to let him end this. And he felt something seem to whisper an affirmative to him.
The pressure he exerted surged. The Nomu's arm twisted grotesquely under the force — bone snapping, muscle tearing, shock absorption overwhelmed — but regeneration immediately began to stitch it back together.
All Might's expression hardened.
Shock absorption. Regeneration. Massive strength.
He knew exactly what this thing was and what it represented.
He was back.
And that meant one thing:
He didn't have to hold back. He didn't have to keep the Nomu alive.
The Nomu lunged, swinging a massive fist toward All Might's head.
All Might ducked under it and countered with a blow to the ribs that would have sent any other enemy flying.
WHAM
The Nomu staggered — but All Might didn't let it move.
His other hand shot out, clamping around the Nomu's throat like a steel vice.
He pulled the monster in close.
Then struck.
A dent appeared in its torso.
Another blow — ribs shattered, bone fragments spraying.
A final punch — a thunderous, explosive impact — obliterated the Nomu's heart and surrounding organs.
The light in its eyes flickered.
Then died.
The Nomu slumped to the ground, lifeless.
Across the plaza, Shigaraki thrashed in Kurogiri's grip, his voice cracking with rage.
"NO! NOMU! GET UP!" His fingers twitched violently, desperate to decay something — anything. "He cheated! He's supposed to be weaker!"
Kurogiri's voice remained calm, even as Shigaraki writhed.
"Tomura. The teachers are here. We must retreat."
Shigaraki didn't hear him.
His bloodshot eyes were locked on Takeshi's broken body.
"Nomu… kill him… kill him… KILL HIM!"
There was no response.
The Nomu was dead.
Kurogiri activated his quirk and dragged a flailing, screaming Shigaraki through the portal and they vanished.
All Might appeared beside Takeshi in a blur.
Normally, he would never move someone in such critical condition — the risk of worsening internal injuries was too high. He would stabilize them first.
But Takeshi didn't have that kind of time.
He was suffocating.
Dying.
All Might lifted his son — for the first time — cradling him with trembling hands.
Then he ran.
Cloudy wisps of steam leaked off him slowly at first… then faster… and faster… as he pushed beyond every limit he had left.
His form began to shrink. His back stooped under the weight of his son. His breath rattled in his chest.
But he didn't stop.
He arrived at the hospital in a final blur and burst through the ER doors.
His body finally gave out.
He collapsed to his knees — reverting fully to his skeletal form — but even then, he refused to let Takeshi touch the floor. He held him in his frail arms, clutching him as if letting go would mean losing him forever.
Doctors and nurses swarmed around them.
Hands reached for Takeshi.
All Might — Toshinori Yagi — looked up, hollow‑eyed and shaking, as they transferred his son to a gurney.
He watched Takeshi being rushed down the hallway.
And for all his power — for all the strength he once had — there was nothing more he could do.
He bowed his head.
And prayed his son would live.