Chapter Text
The witch swung the big basket in her arms back and forth, and gave a big sigh. The books said these herbs, but all of her previous potions had been busts. One had turned into tea that didn't taste very good, one had become some sort of slimy dye, and one had exploded.
"This is what happens when you try to use magic, Midoriya..." She told herself.
Midoriya Izumi could never make spells work. Any potions with a lick of magic would turn into useless cauldrons (and sometimes pots) of boiled substances in water. Because Midoriya Izumi was a witch with no magic. She couldn't see magical creatures and she couldn't hear the crackle of magic. She couldn't speak to creatures unnamed and she couldn't see or feel the threads of enchantment that constituted any curse or spell, much less untangle them. She couldn't even cause Intentions, much though she tried. Sometimes she didn't believe in magic at all.
"Most of it's Psychology," Old Lady Shuzenji had told her.
"It's just simple stuff but most of it's in people's heads."
So Izumi tried. Old Lady Shuzenji, the Youthful Witch, as they called her, was a healer. She knew many cures that did not require - at least not directly - magic from a magic user. Some of the plants she picked definitely had magical properties of their own. But generally she didn't have to put in any of her own except an Intention to Heal. And even Izumi could do that, she had said. Anyone could. Everyone had a baseline level of *that much*, at least.
And so she'd tried to train Izumi, the big-eyed, desperate little girl who had flung herself at the Youthful Witch's feet when everyone else told her she couldn't be a witch - much less a wizard! - with no magic. And she had succeeded, to a degree. Izumi was a fine healer, who made good potions, knew much medicinal lore,was good at delivering babies, and studied magical theory as if her life depended on it.
"You could be a scholar," Shuzenji told her.
But Izumi had shaken her head.
"I don't want to be *just* a scholar. I want to be able to USE magic. I want to be a wizard!"
But they both knew she could never go to a magical university. They accepted you on the basis of your knowledge of practical magic. Of which Izumi had none. And so, after a few years of training, Old Lady Shuzenji finally admitted defeat, and sent Izumi away to her own village to work as a healer.
"After all," she said, "You have to do SOMETHING now you're this old, and I cannot teach you any more than I already have."
So she packed her off with some books and a cauldron, and sent her to work in her own village.
Izumi lived in a cottage all alone somewhat outside of the village proper. She was surrounded by pretty meadows and the forest past her cottage. And she loved it. She *did*.
Her parents, who lived all the way across the village at the other end, were worried about her. But she was a good healer and she made a good living and she Insisted she was happy, so what could they say?
They simply came to visit her as much as possible and sternly told her to visit them, and sent her away with good food and clean, mended clothes, or left her with a clean house and a fresh loaf of bread. They loved her, and she was very grateful to have parents like them.
But she wasn't happy, not really. She wanted to study real Magic. She wanted to use it. And so she studied books to find out its Origin, and she did experiments, and she tried to make potions that involved a very little bit if magic, just so she could start off, nice and easy.
But it wasn't nice and easy.
And today, after failing for so many days, and foraging for so long, Izumi was tired. She plopped down. And she sighed. And then she screamed. Because a magical staff flaming huge magical flames was making right for her. She started to run. And she ran until she heard, someone else, hacking and coughing, call out to her.
"Wait, please!"
And Izumi turned.
It was an old man. A very thin, hacking, and coughing up blood type of old man.
"Oh my goodness ARE YOU OKAY?"
And Izumi started running TOWARDS him, despite the magical flaming staff, which now stood politely out of the way.
The old man put a handkerchief to his mouth and also stood respectfully. He spoke only once Izumi stood in front of him, arms partly held out towards him, in concern.
"I am not," he said. "I am about to die."
This was said very impressively.
"I was looking for a child to pass on my power to, but my staff has led me to you."
"Eh?"
"I am the great sage All Might. And while I am sorry that I cannot be here to train the weilder of my power once I pass it on, I want to get to my next reincarnation. Or at least, to my rest. These past nearly two hundred years have been Very Tiring. And now I want to sleep. So tell me, Midoriya Izumi, Will You Accept My Power?"
"How did you know my name?"
"I am a Wizard! Of course I know. It's called Precognition.
...Also I asked someone from the last town. I had a feeling it wouldn't be a baby and anyway knowing the local witches Never Hurts. They told me you didn't have much in the way of magical power, and I must tell you that before my master passed her power down to me, I also had none. So will you accept my power?"
Izumi blinked. There was nothing to gain by saying no.
"Okay."
All Might trained her. He insisted that she needed to have a strong body to accept the power he called "One for All." And he annoyingly refused to accept anything less than the best. He taught her many things, like the rise of One for All, about the previous users, about the rise of the evil that they were meant to hold back. And then, one day, he pronounced Izumi Ready. And he passed on his power in the form of a hair she had to eat.
Izumi grimaced.
"Ew."
All Might shrugged.
"This is the best we can do, kiddo. It's either this or cannibalism."
"This is cannibalism."
But Izumi ate it. Even though it stuck in her throat and made her feel ick and caused her to hack and cough.
And as she felt the power flow into her and out of Yagi Toshinori, he gracefully began to fade out of existence, until he was nothing but dust, and a vestige within One for All. The staff leaned into her hand.
He had warned her that she'd need to practice using the power gradually, building up her tolerance.
And so Izumi began to train.