You were his real hero all along— he can’t believe he didn’t notice this sooner. You, his otōsan , the man that had supported him more than anyone in his life, even his own mother, was his hero. Not All Might, not any pro hero, not any person ever. His father. The real definition of a hero but wasn’t a registered one. The one who helped so many people without violence envolved, helping the poor, teaching disabled kids, the list goes on. Yet, Izuku still thought of All Might as his hero, not you, but you were okay with that. He didn’t know why. He wished he could turn back time, tell you that you were more of his hero than anyone else, that you shouldn’t have went in that burning house to save a small family you didn’t know, and that you would still be here and continue being his hero. But he can’t. He was a foolish kid that dreamt of becoming a hero, when the real hero was living with him in his house. Maybe if he acknowledged it sooner, he wouldn’t be standing at your grave right now, for the seventh time this month, still mourning your death after so many years.