Izuku Midoriya’s pained breaths echoed loudly in the quiet of the training room. Drenched in sweat and with green eyes nearly shut in exhaustion, he readied his sword for another attack. It felt as though the sword was flaying him alive each time it connected with it’s target, the price he agreed to pay in exchange for the chance to challenge the Dragon King Katsuki Bakugou. The cuts burned agonizingly where the salt of sweat mixed in but Izuku barely felt them anymore.
Izuku grit his teeth and surged forward again, green lightning crackling around his entire body and casting an eerie glow on the black metal of the greatsword. He feinted at the last moment, instead of bringing his sword down upon his trainers’ head he swung it around to aim for a mid torso strike that would cleave his opponent in two.
“Much better, my boy!” Yagi Toshinori called as he shifted his staff around to block the strike. The staff still felt odd in Toshinori’s hands but he seemed to learn how to wield it easily enough. It was imbued with numerous magicks to protect its wielder. When Toshinori trained with Izuku, the staff nullified all magic that attacked it. This was for both the safety of its wielder as well as the young green haired man attacking. This wasn’t a real battle so there was no need for unnecessary bloodshed. Izuku gained enough wounds from the greatsword as the price its wielder chose to pay.
Izuku spun into action before Toshinori’s praise had even come to an end, the neat footwork that had been beaten into his head allowing him to not waste a single moment as he prepared a counterstrike. This was the part he always messed up. He’d stumbled on that same footwork each time, his feet moving faster than his mind could keep up with and-
He toppled backwards.
The sword clattered to the ground with a deafening noise as Izuku tripped and tipped backwards, arms waving in a vain attempt at stabilizing himself. He hit the floor with a pained yelp as his backside met the unforgiving concrete. The green lightning that Izuku had managed to keep conjured for twenty-four hours, the longest time yet, disappeared abruptly, leaving burnt impressions on both of their eyes. Izuku flopped onto his back, starfished out as he struggled to regain his breath and keep the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes in check.
“You did well, my boy. Do not despair,” Toshinori said gently as he shuffled into Izuku’s line of sight. “I’d say you’re ready to begin your journey.”
Izuku sat up so quickly his head spun. “You cannot be serious, Master Toshinori! I haven’t been able to best you even once yet, and I still cannot wield One for All without blood loss and without utilizing its power properly.” Izuku laughed weakly as he looked towards the greatsword with a mixture of anger, despair and bitterness. “You should’ve given it to another of your disciples, maybe Amajiki or even Mir-”
“You know that is not how it works, Izuku,” Toshinori cut Izuku off before his muttering could pick up any more speed and his self-pitying mood continued to deteriorate even further. Toshinori crouched down in front of the young man with a careful slowness that reminded them both how fragile the once-great mage now was. He placed a hand on Izuku’s shoulder and looked into green eyes filled with unshed tears.
“I know, Master.”
Toshinori smiled at the soft acknowledgement that had just a hint of petulance in it. Izuku had already sacrificed so much just to be able to call himself Toshinori’s successor. It was too great a burden to bear for any normal man of twenty-five and yet Izuku had taken the mantle willingly, eagerly even.
It wasn’t like Izuku had the option of refusing.
The greatsword Unus pro omnibus or One for All chose its wielder. No one thus far had been able to determine how the sword calculated whether someone was worthy or not. There was speculation that it preferred its wielder to be strong physically and magically, or possibly that it was looking for a wielder with great knowledge that could increase its power. Both of the men in this room knew that neither of those were what factored into how the sword chose.
Izuku, much like Yagi Toshinori, was magicless. He’d been unable to use magic since birth. No matter how hard he trained or attempted to follow the steps others had found their magic through, the ability still eluded him. He’d resigned himself to his fate the day he’d turned thirteen and he still hadn’t felt even a spark of mystical power inside himself. That was the age that magic matured for both males and females, their abilities settling into its chosen classification for the rest of their lives.
Being magicless wasn’t unheard of. It wasn’t even uncommon. If anything, having magic was considered uncommon. But to a young boy at the age of thirteen, it had been a devastating blow to his heart that he’d never fully recovered from. Izuku had spent every moment of his spare time researching ways to imbue oneself with magic. Even though his search proved fruitless time after time he still battled on, absorbing the knowledge of every single thing he read without even realizing it. He spent a good amount of time at the local library to this day.
At one point his mother worried that he’d become obsessed with magic power and how to obtain it, even going so far at a point in his youth as to ban him from visiting the library. It had caused the first and only heated argument between mother and son, Izuku standing his ground until his mother confessed she was afraid he would waste away looking for something that was never going to happen.
Her words had been like a blow directly to his heart. She’d apologized immediately after the words left her mouth, but the damage was done. Izuku still studied, only in secrecy from that point forward, and if his mother knew she never gave any indication of it.
That had been Izuku’s life until Yagi Toshinori had come to his village in the late summer of the previous year with life threatening wounds and a greatsword that appeared as though the gods had cleaved it in two, jagged edges making up one entire side of the sword gouging rough furrows as Yagi dragged the blade behind him.
Inko Midoriya was known for being the best healer in their part of the countryside, so it was routine for all wounded men and women to find themselves being attended to by the quiet woman. However, it would soon transpire that none of what was about to happen would be routine.
Izuku’s life had changed completely before he was even aware of it. On that fateful day, Izuku had been chasing down a lead on a known witch named Mei Hatsume that claimed the witch could brew potions no other magical being could. So Izuku had spent many an hour gathering information about Mei’s whereabouts before finally being able to seek her out. He was completely unaware of the great magical swordmaster Yagi Toshinori staggering into his village at the same time Izuku was headed out of it to meet the witch.
Only to find out that, while Mei Hatsume had a brilliant mind, she couldn’t do the impossible. Izuku’s hopes were dashed yet again as Mei explained that none of her ‘babies’ could give someone what they weren’t born with. If Izuku had even a speck of magical energy within him, Mei would’ve been able to draw it out. But try as they might, there was no magic within his soul to be found. Izuku had left Mei’s shortly afterward, his body numb as he hollowly admitted the truth to himself - he would always be completely ordinary in this civilization of extraordinary beings.
Izuku had come home exhausted and worn down from the constant turmoil he struggled against within himself, the pull of wanting magic no matter the cost so that he could protect those who meant something to him clashing against the bitterness in his heart that pushed him to despise all magic. He hadn’t looked up as he entered the small house, preferring to save himself from his mother’s lectures over his whereabouts. It was only when she called him by name did he finally snap out of his self-loathing and really take in his surroundings.
Izuku clasped Toshinori’s hand and allowed the frail older man to help haul him off the ground. He knew he was being ridiculous, whining about his lot in life even if he hadn’t spoken a word about the remembered pain of that day to anyone. But he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed sometimes. He’d always been just Izuku, a magicless nobody that people seemed to look right through. He had few in the way of friends, the other kids shunning him once he confessed to them he wasn’t sure he had any magic. But that was before the Dragon King, before Toshinori and before One for All. Izuku’s life now barely resembled the life he had before.
Izuku’s first impression of Yagi Toshinori was that he looked more like an emaciated mummy than the Hero everyone proclaimed him to be. Of course Izuku had heard of Toshinori’s exploits in the dragon clan’s territory, and his campaign to end the violence said dragon clan had brought to the human’s territory. Izuku respected the mission that this one man had taken on despite its impossibility, and now pitied him because this is what he wrought from attempting to control the Dragon King. A fragile and sickly body, sunken in eyes that still burned with passion but didn’t possess the physical strength any longer to follow that passion. More than anything, he felt sorry for the broken man.
Until about two weeks after that initial meeting.
“Let’s try it one more time before you call it quits,” Toshinori said with that knowing glint in his blue eyes, as though he knew exactly what had been on Izuku’s mind. Izuku gave the man a small smile even though he heaved a sigh immediately afterwards. Both men returned to their previous positions; Toshinori with the tall staff at the ready to block any attack Izuku might throw at him, and Izuku with two hands grasping One for All crouched down into his battle stance. There was a moment of silence as neither man moved, as though time had stood still. Then the moment was gone as green lightning encompassed Izuku and he darted forward to attack.
Izuku had accepted Yagi Toshinori’s part in his day to day life without complaint. He kept up his research, gaining knowledge of many forms of magic in his search to obtain it. As Toshinori recovered, he began to share the tales of his exploits; his great triumphs and his bitter defeats. Izuku was surprised that the man never spoke ill of the people he fought against, respecting their warrior spirit even as he cut them down with a sense of honor.
Early one morning, well into the gaunt man’s recovery, Izuku came downstairs to find that Toshinori had left before even Izuku. Izuku thought it odd but brushed it aside as he mentally went over his schedule for the day. What the former hero did with his time was his business. Izuku walked in quick strides towards the library once more, only to catch a glimpse of something bright shining by the pond to the right of the Midoriya’s house. It blinded him for a moment before he could make out what was causing the bright beams of light.
“What are you doing out here, Toshinori?”
“I was just polishing my sword, my boy.”
Izuku looked at the sword dubiously, his gaze following the jagged edge of the massive sword until it reached the hilt. He raised green eyes back to Toshinori’s blue eyes and asked the question he’d been dying to ask the older man since he first laid eyes on the sword. “What happened to your sword?”
“Are you sure you’d like to hear that story, Izuku Midoriya?”
Izuku swung the greatsword in a wide arc, attempting to cleave his opponent diagonally but Toshinori’s staff was there, blocking the attack and pushing the sword to his right in an attempt to throw Izuku off balance. Izuku loosened his grip on the sword just enough to allow the momentum to work to his advantage instead of tripping him up as Toshinori intended. Izuku spun on the spot, his eyes slipping closed as he allowed his body to move fluidly. The sparks of lightning still popped and flashed even though he could no longer see anything but them.
Izuku allowed the sparks to guide his movements, keeping his limbs loose and moving, feeling the greatsword respond to the slightest command. This was new. Izuku had never achieved anything of the sort in his many training sessions in the past. He didn’t allow the knowledge to distract him, keeping his mind blank and in tune with the greatsword. It felt lighter in his tight grasp; the lightning that danced up the blade, suffusing it with ancient magical energy, warmed Izuku instead of scalding him. Izuku smiled unconsciously.
Something about the way Toshinori spoke his given name, with such seriousness and weight behind the seemingly harmless question, told Izuku this would be more than a story. He could feel a heavy weight settle on his shoulders even as he settled next to Toshinori to hear the story.
It happened fast after that. Every day Toshinori would polish the sword in the early morning light, and every day Izuku would stop to listen to the man’s stories as he worked. Toshinori would tire out and go back inside to rest while Izuku would continue with the rest of his day. One day, Toshinori asked Izuku to hold on to the sword while he went to fetch Inko so that he may thank her for the wonderful hospitality she’d shown this fragile man. Izuku heard his voice as if from afar, too fixated on the feel of the sword in his hand.
It was surprisingly light for such a massive weapon, although it would still need to be wielded with two hands for accuracy and defense. He marveled at the jagged pieces of scored metal that had been sheared straight through, pondering on what could’ve possibly happened to break such a sword apart. Who had the strength to do so? Why did Toshinori allow half of his sword to be stolen?
Toshinori could tell that Izuku had finally managed to tap into the power of One for All. He’d only scratched the surface before, though Toshinori hadn’t told him that. Now he watched as Izuku’s entire body became one with the sword, moving as one entity instead of just a sword and its owner. Toshinori readied his staff, knowing that Izuku’s true strength was unlocked now. He would need to pay close attention so that he could stave off the very power he’d once wielded himself. Izuku was there before his staff was in position, his movement weaving as though in a dance instead of sword training. Toshinori barely managed to block the attack, though Izuku was none the wiser. The green haired young man was already readying his next move and Toshinori knew in that instant both that he wouldn’t be fast enough to block it and that Izuku truly was ready to go face the Dragon King.
While Izuku was thoroughly inspecting the blade, he nearly jumped back in surprise as he caught sight of a face within the metal. Certain his eyes were playing tricks on him, he angled the sword a different way before peering into it. Izuku’s eyes widened and his breathing stuttered to a stop as he angled the sword yet again to see if the image would disappear, as it seemed to do if Izuku was not looking.
Izuku was nearly vibrating out of his skin with repressed questions just dying for answers to the only important question: Why was he born without the ability to have magic? How could he have seen a face in the sword without some sort of magical assistance? Izuku liked to know things, he was like a sponge when it came to books and puzzles, this was just like a difficult puzzle to be torn down by Izuku’s hand so that he can build it back up new once more.
Izuku’s entire body hummed with power. The footwork that had never failed to trip him up came naturally, his mind not even thinking about the steps as he performed them. Izuku swung the sword to his side, getting a feel for the heft of the weapon now that it was lighter and exponentially easier to manage. The green lightning swirled around him as he spun, and if he were to open his eyes he knew a solid wall of lightning would be howling around him, like a tornado created by the raw power of One for All. He allowed the momentum to aid him as he jumped into the air to bring the greatsword down on his master.
Yagi had laughed; a laugh that filled the air and caused all who heard it to smile themselves as he asked Izuku what he saw in the sword. Izuku blushed and answered so quietly the older man couldn’t hear.
“Speak up, my boy, I do not have the best hearing,” Yagi said with the smile still upon his lips. It was then that he noticed how badly Izuku was shaken by whatever he had seen in the reflection of the sword. He studied the boy in front of him with shrewd eyes and a depth of emotion that neither man seemed to notice.
Yagi quickly swung his arm over Izuku’s shoulders in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. However, Izuku, who had been angling the blade to and away from himself repeatedly, flinched away from Toshinori at the touch. This movement just so happened to tilt the sword in a favorable direction for Toshinori to get a glimpse for himself of what Izuku had been staring into the metal at all this time.
A chill raced up his spine despite the warmth of the late summer day. Toshinori now understood why Izuku had been so transfixed. Toshinori felt that heavy weight of destiny that had sat heavily upon his shoulders for so long, from when his master had bequeathed the great sword to Toshinori after the nearly unbearable training beforehand. Now, that same heavy weight was pulling towards Izuku’s soul, and Toshinori could no more stop it from picking its successor than he could cut his arm off.
Izuku had seen the Dragon King.
The greatsword hit the staff and bounced off with a large crack as the two magical weapons clashed. Izuku was thrown back, his eyes flying open as the lightning dissipated around him and he realized a moment too late that there was nothing to arrest his movement save -
His back crashed into the far wall of the building, his head snapping back and cracking painfully against the wall. The greatsword flew from Izuku’s hands, spinning as it crashed to the ground with a deafening clang. All the breath left Izuku’s lungs at the impact, his body going still as pain flared along every nerve ending. He fell heavily to the floor and did not move.
Toshinori hadn’t faired much better. His staff had deflected the attack, but the recoil had pushed the staff backward too fast to avoid. It smacked Toshinori in the forehead even as he desperately tried to move his head out of the way from the projectile his weapon had become. Toshinori’s body, almost eerily followed the same path as Izuku’s. His back slammed into the wall and he fell, his backside flaring in pain as it met the unforgiving floor.
Neither man moved for several minutes. They both lay panting harshly, magical weapons forgotten as the pain in their bodies demanded their attention more. When Toshinori felt as though he could venture speaking without sacrificing oxygen to do so, he began to laugh. How ironic that what was once his own power could hurt so much. He’d known all along that he wouldn’t keep One for All, that he’d pass it on to whomever the greatsword chose to wield it after him. Izuku had been an excellent student, eager to learn, maybe a little too self-depreciating at times, but honest and good down to his core. Toshinori would miss Izuku’s bright smiles when Izuku left to carry out his mission. The thought was a sobering reminder to Toshinori that their time together was up. He needed to let Izuku go face his destiny head on.
Toshinori quickly took the sword from the young man, causing Izuku to look up in confusion at the older man. Toshinori merely shook his head and nodded towards the house, the silent language flowing between them as they turned as one and walked towards the Midoriya household. He used this time to beg any god or goddess listening to choose someone else, anyone else , not this pure, kindhearted boy that only desired magic to better the world around him. Izuku was untainted by magic’s neverending pull for power, and Toshinori didn’t want to place such a heavy burden on such a gentle soul.
Izuku couldn’t get the piercing red eyes out of his mind. Even though Toshinori now carried the sword, Izuku felt as though those eyes were still on him, sizing him up and finding him lacking, just as the rest of the world around him had. It stung for a reason that Izuku couldn’t name. Why should he care what ignorant judgment some disembodied face valued his worth at? Izuku didn’t even know who the heck the man was!
It didn’t stop Izuku from feeling that the man was going to be very important in Izuku’s life. He cast a sidelong look at Toshinori, trying not to stare at the fragile man as his blue eyes grew distant and pain flashed through his expression. Toshinori had gone from exuberant to introspective within a heartbeat and the change left Izuku reeling as he pondered its meaning.
Both men were settled in the living room when Toshinori finally broke the silence. “Tell me who you saw in the sword, Izuku.”
“How do you know it’s a who and not a what?” Izuku deflected. He wanted to know why the sudden change had come over the older blond man before admitting to what he saw in the sword. Something about it felt vitally important, like everything would change once Toshinori finally opened up to him.
Izuku finally managed to find the strength to sit up, his body protesting every movement with the dull ache of physical pain. It took a minute for the room to stop spinning and for his chest to feel as though he could draw a full breath again. When he was certain he was alive and able to actually move he slowly made his way across the room, crawling on hands and knees toward his master with intent to make sure he hadn’t killed the frail man. He didn’t care if he looked silly crawling around on the ground like a baby, the power of One for All had drained every ounce of strength and stripped him of his pride.
As Izuku journeyed steadily closer, he heard Toshinori begin to chuckle. This worried Izuku immensely. What if he’d accidentally scrambled the older man’s brain? People would shun him as they had Izuku, making fun of him and, oh gods, then he’d have to stay in the house and never leave, he’d hate Izuku, if he even still remembered Izuku-
“Young Midoriya, stop. I am just fine. I might not be the hero I once was, but I’m tougher than you’re giving me credit for.” Toshinori lightly reprimanded his student, though the sting was taken away by the big smile and pride shining in his gaze. He couldn’t stop smiling, knowing that he’d completed this last mission, making sure the power of One for All went into good hands. Now all that remained was to help Izuku prepare for his journey and he could finally hang up the mantle of ‘hero’ and go back to being just Yagi Toshinori. Maybe he would ask Inko if she’d enjoy a nice evening stroll with him someday soon.
“Sorry,” Izuku said sheepishly as he reached Toshinori’s prone form. The pride in those electric blue eyes caused a lump to rise in his throat. No one had ever looked at Izuku like that, as though he was worth something. He did his best to push back the tears, but in the end it was a fruitless endeavor as they spilled down his cheeks anyway.
Izuku supposed that someone looking at him with pride in their gaze probably shouldn’t be as big of a deal as he made it out to be. But it left Izuku reeling, struggling to understand how his life had changed so much. From ignored and forgotten to belonging to one of the most powerful people in the land and taking on the mantle of Hero. He clutched at his chest, giving up entirely on keeping the tears in check as he sobbed loudly. His body shuddered with the force of his sobs and he bent forward until he could place his forehead on the cool floor by Toshinori.
Toshinori smiled softly at the green haired boy, understanding without any words passing between them. Izuku had grown up believing that his only destiny was to gain knowledge he’d never be able to use. Toshinori had suffered through weeks of no human contact, only his sword and his calling to keep him company. He had believed that he was nothing more than a nameless person behind a hero mask, a person who fought and rescued, fought and rescued. Until he’d come to this bustling village and been attended to by the most beautiful and kind woman he’d ever met before. Until a green haired young man with a thirst for knowledge and an ache to find himself a place in their world had come to mean so much to Toshinori that he couldn’t imagine leaving ever again.
“I saw his face when you shifted, my boy. What stood out to you?” Toshinori had yet to look Izuku in the eye. He spoke to his lap and the hands clasped there. You could cut the tension between the two men with a dull blade.
“H- his eyes,” Izuku gave in and answered quietly, also not looking at the blond man, eyes too full of the strange vision of handsomeness he’d seen in the sword. “They pierced right through me, as though they were challenging me to a battle to the death. But that doesn’t make any sense!”
Izuku stood abruptly and started to pace in the small living room, a hand on his chin as he continued, “I’ve never seen anyone that looked like the man I saw. And yet I felt drawn toward him with something I’ve never felt before. It was as though my entire being was calling out to this man, and I felt…”
“You felt what?” Toshinori prompted the green haired young man to continue, knowing that Izuku needed to reach this conclusion on his own, without any help from Toshinori. It could ruin everything if Toshinori stepped within the sacred boundaries between what Izuku was slowly coming to realize.
Izuku looked at Toshinori with wide green eyes and paling cheeks. “I felt like this one man meant everything in the world. I looked at his sneering face and I saw the strength of a thousand men behind the mask of it. I felt as though I was being issued a challenge even though the man’s lips never moved from their frown. I felt… I felt…”
Toshinori leaned forward, waiting on pins and needles for Izuku to connect that final dot that would bring understanding. Izuku stopped pacing as abruptly as he had started, and his hands were shaking when he raised them to eye level and began clenching and unclenching his fists.
“I felt like my soul belonged to this man I’ve never seen before.”
Izuku’s declaration hit like a bomb between the two men, Toshinori sucking in a sharp breath as Izuku’s aura flared up with the most brilliant explosion of fire, phantom flames licking at the green haired man that seemed more dazed than alarmed. As suddenly as the spectral flames appeared they were gone, Izuku’s aura crackling with green lightning that caused both men’s hair to stand up on end.
Toshinori couldn’t contain himself any longer, he jumped up and pulled the young man into an exuberant and tight hug. He was laughing once more, his eyes shining bright as they looked down at the pure soul before him. There was no doubting it now, Izuku had found his soulmate, and the sword had chosen him as the successor. It was time for Toshinori to pass the torch on to the next generation.
Izuku laughed nervously as he was pulled into a fierce hug from the older man, his grip almost too tight around Izuku’s shoulders. Izuku still wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but he did know that the red eyed man was his, just as he belonged to that man. The moment the words had left his lips he had felt the rightness down to his soul, his entire body flaring up with a comforting warmth that smelled of campfire smoke and home. He couldn’t find the words to describe the feeling as it coursed through him, so he allowed himself to be caught up in the beauty of the moment and the flash of electricity that ran through his body like a live wire.
It was as though he’d found his purpose and his home in the same moment. Izuku didn’t even notice the magical energy that coursed through him with how wrapped up he was in this mysterious stranger.
Now, Izuku knew more about the stranger. He knew about everything the public whispered in fear, unsure of how long the Dragon King’s reach was, tales and information exchanged in soft breaths for safety and security. He knew everything the library had to offer as well, though there wasn’t much about the Dragon King personally, current events articles and recent history books favored describing the country the dragons inhabited as a whole, the leader only mentioned for the atrocities he’d committed and how many wars had been brought to countries since his crowning.
Izuku refused to believe the person that was his soulmate could be as evil as the writers made the Dragon King out to be. He wanted to get to know Katsuki Bakugou, the man first, and then the ruler of the Astea. Toshinori had given him every scrap of intel he had on the fiery leader, gathered both throughout his journeys as well as firsthand knowledge from visiting Astea as part of an elite team tasked with spying on the day to day life of the Dragon horde and how the country worked, and was inevitably caught.
“You’re ready, Izuku. You’re ready to go find the Dragon King and tame him,” Toshinori said with electric blue eyes that held both sorrow and joy. Every fiber of his being believed that the green haired man was capable of bringing about the change needed to stop the Dragon King’s wrath from reaching to the ends of the world. Toshinori could admit to himself that he was afraid, afraid of what the tyrant would do to such a pure and kind hearted soul like Izuku Midoriya, and afraid of Izuku’s life being snuffed out before even being given the opportunity to speak to the brash young ruler.
But the sword had chosen Izuku just as it had chosen Toshinori, and his master before him. There was a reason the spirit of the sword saw fit to fall into Izuku’s hands, and mere human minds couldn’t hope to contemplate the intricacies of the ancient sword. All Toshinori could do was hope that the sword would protect the younger man in his long and no doubt arduous journey ahead, and hope that Izuku was strong enough to change the black heart of the Dragon King.
“Y- yeah? Then I must prepare for the trip. Master Toshinori, I shall do my best and be worthy of both yours and the sword’s legacy.” Izuku was proud that his voice came out stronger than he felt. His stomach twisted itself into knots at the thought of the lonely journey ahead and the task he’d been set with. He tried to see in himself what the sword and Toshinori seemed to see, but the only person he saw was just Izuku Midoriya, the only son to the village healer. A magicless nobody. Even his father hadn’t stuck around once Izuku had been born. He wasn’t anyone special, he’d been made to see that plenty in his relatively short life. Izuku pulled himself together and forced himself to think more productive thoughts. There was plenty Izuku had to do before he could actually set off on his journey.
It was hard for Izuku to wrap his head around to this day, that Toshinori and the great sword picked him out of all the young adults in his village. Izuku was sure there were more competent sword wielders, and certainly others with magic that would increase the swords power instead of a magicless young man who had never journeyed beyond a day’s time in any direction from the village.