Chapitre 2: Chapter 2: The Smile That Never Came
All Might stood motionless in the vast bedroom, gazing at the iconic hero costume laid out on a mannequin nearby. Its bold red, blue, and gold colors radiated confidence, hope, and unwavering strength. Yet as he reached out and ran his fingers across the fabric, he couldn't help but feel a strange hollowness. It wasn't his symbol; it was All Might's.
"Are you ready, sir?" Sir Nighteye's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Turning, All Might nodded. His sidekick stood near the door, clipboard in hand, his typically analytical eyes betraying a flicker of concern.
"Yes," All Might said firmly. "Let's get to work."
Nighteye's frown deepened as he observed his mentor—or the man who looked like his mentor. The All Might he knew, even in moments of sadness, never failed to wear his trademark smile. It was the very essence of who he was: a beacon of peace, confidence, and warmth for the people. But this All Might... he didn't smile. His expression was distant, almost grim, as if carrying an invisible burden.
Nighteye wanted to say something, to ask if he was alright, but he stopped himself. After all, how could he expect All Might to be the same when he had just learned of Nana Shimura's death at the hands of All For One? To someone with amnesia, it must have felt like it had just happened, reopening a wound that had supposedly healed years ago.
"Sir," Nighteye ventured, "if you're not ready, we can delay this. You don't need to rush—"
"I'm fine," All Might interrupted. His tone was steady, but there was no cheerfulness behind it. He began putting on the costume, the movements deliberate and practiced, as if muscle memory guided him. Within moments, he stood tall, his frame filling out the costume as he activated his hero form.
For a brief moment, Nighteye felt a glimmer of hope. The sight of All Might in his full heroic form was always inspiring, a reminder of his unshakable strength. But then, All Might turned to him, his expression as neutral as ever, and that hope dimmed.
"Report," All Might said, extending a hand.
Nighteye handed over a detailed list of current crimes and threats in the city. He hesitated before speaking. "Sir, I must caution you. The public hasn't seen you in days, and any unusual behavior could—"
All Might didn't wait for him to finish. He moved to the window, opening it with a casual flick of his hand. "I'll handle it," he said simply.
Before Nighteye could respond, All Might leapt out of the window.
The sensation was exhilarating. Wind rushed past his face as he soared through the sky, the city sprawled out beneath him like a living, breathing organism. All Might couldn't help but marvel at the sheer height and distance he had covered with a single leap.
"Holy crap," he muttered to himself, landing awkwardly on a nearby rooftop. His legs wobbled as he stabilized himself, but he quickly adjusted. Testing his strength, he launched himself again, this time more controlled, leaping across entire city blocks with ease.
As he leapt, he glanced back and caught sight of the towering skyscraper he had left behind. The bold letters emblazoned across its front spelled it out clearly: MIGHT TOWER.
So, this was his agency—a headquarters befitting the world's Number One Hero. The realization was almost surreal. He'd gone from dying in a dark alley to becoming the most powerful hero in a world he had only known as fiction.
But there was no time to dwell. A flash of movement below caught his attention, and he landed heavily in front of a bank. A villain in a tattered ski mask was attempting to flee with a duffel bag stuffed with cash.
The man froze the moment he saw All Might. His grip on the bag slackened, and his eyes widened with terror. "A-All Might," he stammered. "I—I surrender, okay? No need to—"
The thief's voice faltered as he noticed something unusual. All Might wasn't smiling. His usual reassuring grin was absent, replaced by a stern, almost intimidating frown. There was no warmth, no kindness—only a quiet intensity that sent chills down the thief's spine.
All Might clenched his fist, gauging his strength. "Surrender?" he asked, his voice deep and unyielding. "Or are you trying to buy time?"
"N-no, I swear!" the thief cried, dropping the bag. "I'm done, man! I give up!"
But All Might wasn't convinced. He activated a small portion of One For All—20%, he estimated—and swung a punch at the ground near the thief's feet, intending to make a point.
The result was far more devastating than he anticipated. A deafening shockwave erupted, creating a tornado of force that flung the thief backward like a ragdoll. The man crashed into a lamppost with a sickening crack, his legs bending at unnatural angles.
All Might froze, horrified. He hadn't intended to use so much power. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, quickly pulling out his communicator to report the incident to the police. "A villain is incapacitated near Main Street. Send medical assistance immediately."
The thief groaned weakly, clearly in agony, but alive. All Might clenched his fists, the guilt gnawing at him. I need to be more careful.
The morning passed in a blur of action. All Might dealt with several other criminals, his powerful punches leaving trails of destruction in their wake. Broken arms, shattered ribs, dislocated joints—none of the villains he faced walked away unscathed.
But what truly caught the public's attention wasn't his strength. It was his demeanor.
Every citizen who saw All Might that day noticed the same thing: he didn't smile. Not once. Even when rescuing civilians from a burning building or stopping a runaway bus, his face remained stoic, almost grim. Gone was the comforting, larger-than-life presence they had come to rely on. In its place was a man who seemed... different.
By the afternoon, social media was ablaze with speculation. Hashtags like #SeriousMight, #AllMightOrVengeance, and #WhereIsTheSmile began trending worldwide. Videos of his encounters flooded the internet, showing the uncharacteristic brutality with which he dealt with villains.
"I've never seen All Might like this," one commentator remarked in a viral clip. "It's like he's... angry. And that smile—it's what gave people hope. Where is it?"
News outlets quickly picked up the story, plastering headlines like "The Smile That Never Came" and "All Might's Darkest Day" across their broadcasts. Theories ranged from burnout to personal tragedy, with some even suggesting that All Might was preparing for war.
By the time evening rolled around, All Might was utterly exhausted. He returned to his agency and collapsed onto his massive bed, reverting to his non-buff form. He stared at his hands, the weight of the day pressing heavily on his chest.
"How did it come to this?" he murmured.
He flexed his fingers, marveling at the raw power they held. If 20% of One For All could create such devastating force, how strong was 100%? And how had All For One managed to inflict such a grievous injury on someone so powerful?
He sighed, closing his eyes. The All For One of this timeline was likely far stronger than the villain he remembered from the show. If he wanted to survive their inevitable confrontation, he couldn't afford to wait for All For One to make the first move. He needed a plan.
Meanwhile, in the sprawling offices of the Hero Public Safety Commission (HPSC), the atmosphere was tense. The president of the organization, a stern man with graying hair and a sharp suit, leaned back in his chair as Lady Nagant entered the room.
"President," she said curtly, her posture rigid.
The president wasted no time. "You've seen the reports about All Might?"
Lady Nagant nodded. "Everyone has. He's different. Brutal. The public is already starting to question him."
"That's precisely why you're here," the president said, his tone firm. "Your task is to monitor him."
Nagant's eyes narrowed. "Monitor him? For what?"
The president folded his hands on his desk, his expression unreadable. "Something has changed in All Might. Whether it's physical, psychological, or something else entirely, we need to know what it is. Your job is to observe him, gather intel, and report back to me."
Nagant's lips pressed into a thin line. "And if it's something... dangerous?"
The president's gaze hardened. "You won't be killing him," he said sharply. "Frankly, you wouldn't be able to if you tried. But if he's compromised in any way, we need to know."
Nagant hesitated, her instincts screaming that there was more to this mission than the president was letting on. But she merely nodded. "Understood."
As she left the room, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that the HPSC was playing a dangerous game—one that could have catastrophic consequences for the world if they pushed the Symbol of Peace too far.
The chapter ended with Lady Nagant stepping into the shadows, her sharp eyes watching as the world's greatest hero began to unravel.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone