Before you continue, I'd like to thank my new followers: AnimeDrummer, Dan Nivanny, DhanaRagnarok, FrancisTTM, JMA Blazer, MrDyzio, WinterValentine, buubaa, and kasiemheim.

I'm sorry I didn't make any reference to it earlier, but this is the final chapter of Allmom AU; in my defence, I literally did not know it was the final chapter until tonight. If you'd like, leave a review or PM after you've read, and I'll get back to you, I promise (though maybe not for a day or two,life's pretty busy right now).

For anyone who's interested, I'm considering doing a Q&A or a little commentary on some of my thoughts regarding this and putting it up on my tumblr (same name as my ff account). Leave me a PM if you have a question you desperately want answered.

Last bit of housekeeping: there's a song partway through. If you've heard Susan Boyle's "I Dreamed a Dream", it sounds very much like that.

I would like to thank everyone who's favourited and/or followed this, and anyone who recommended it to someone else, and everyone who left a review. I hope you guys enjoy this, and have enjoyed reading the story so far; I know I loved writing it.

13. Symbols of Peace

Inko was hammered by déjà vu as she followed Miss Kano backstage. She was fourteen again, at another concert commemorating a new album. Her heart thumped in her chest. She glanced over her shoulder.

Toshinori was there, breathing just a bit laboured. This heartbeat wasn't one of doubt, of feeling she wasn't good enough to stand before thousands—millions, since this concert would be broadcast live—thanks to his gentle support, the secret fire he'd shown so few. His power, All Might's power, felt just like hers? Was this what he'd given Izuku, this inspiration that could carry a country on its shoulders?

This heartbeat wasn't one of doubt. No. This was her heartbeat when she had musical ass to kick.

Miss Kano stopped and stood aside with a small bow, a broad grin on her thin, hard face. Inko felt the familiar weight of violin in one hand, every string meticulously tuned, bow in the other, thoroughly rosined, microphone ready, hooked into her neckline. She didn't look, but she felt Toshinori behind her, a pillar of support for her now as he'd supported Japan for so long.

Up the stairs. Behind the curtain, to her seat behind its own curtain, which she'd not so much requested but needed. The audience—she'd heard their constant rumble as she'd prepped—picking up in anticipation. The screen would read "Ladies and gentlemen, after twenty-five long years, Shikoku Records is proud to present, live from the U.A. Stadium, Kimeru-chan!"

She sat. She knew the screen had started playing its message when the audience quieted. The lights clacked on. And Inko was struck by a magnificent idea that hadn't occurred to her for twenty-five years. She'd never dared try it; even as the voice of Japan, she'd never had the courage. One breath, one harsh, raw breath, and it was there, trembling in her chest like a tiger desperate to pounce.

She rose.

The gasp from the audience, the surprise of millions. She stepped out from behind the curtain as if she always had. The sambar were running, and the tiger sprang.

Without a word, Inko put rest to cheek, bow to string, and played.

(A Couple Minutes Earlier)

Ochako had been to a few concerts in middle school. Some good, some bad, some terrible, some great. She'd never been to one like this.

"This is incredible," Deku whispered beside her.

Ochako nodded, only slightly warm under her collar. "Yeah." That this was a date made it even more special. But now, everything out in the open, she felt so much more relaxed. Deku was looking extremely handsome in a plain sort of way in his suit, and the red tie brought out his eyes. He'd liked her own plum-velvet suit, too, and his stammering was minimal. "We competed in front of an audience like this too, didn't we?"

"Yeah." Deku looked slightly nervous. "But when we competed, there were eighty-plus students the audience was watching. Mom's all alone down there."

"Uh, Deku?"

He turned to her. "Yeah?"

She put her hand over his. "She's not alone. Neither are you, or me. We've all got so many people cheering us on, and—"

"Shhh!" Kyoka leaned down from behind them. She looked like she was at a rock concert. "It's starting! And try not to talk or do any 'couple' things, okay? I wanna hear this without distractions!" Yao-momo's chiding nudge was ruined a bit by the fact she looked on the verge of giggles. Kyoka had an awful lot of kiss-marks on her face that looked suspiciously close to the colour Yao-momo was wearing.

Before Ochako could point out this hypocrisy, Bakugou turned around—he and Kirishima were in the row in front of them—and whisper-yelled, "Will you idiots shut up! I'm about to listen!"

Kyoka leaned forward. "I was walking by the boys' baths early this morning, and I swear I heard him singing along flawlessly to one of your mom's songs, Midoriya."

Ochako covered her mouth. The image was worth a penthouse suite.

The house lights dimmed, the stage lights snapped on, and the audience quieted. Eerily so. Ochako was sure she could hear a pin drop on the far side of the stadium.

She certainly heard the click of shoes as the ripple of curtain marked Mrs. Midoriya's passage behind it. They stopped. According to Present Mic, Mrs. Midoriya had always performed behind a curtain. Did other musicians do that? Either way, the curtain was spectacle enough. It depicted—Deku confirmed that his mother had specifically requested this—the clash between All Might and the villain at Kamino Ward. The screens about the stadium zoomed in on it; the detail was breathtaking.

"This was named the 'All Our Thanks' concert commemorating him…" Deku muttered beside her.

The audience gasped as the click of shoes resumed. "Is she—" Kyoka hissed behind them as the curtain parted, and Mrs. Midoriya stood before an audience of thousands.

"She's beautiful," Deku said. She was. Ochako loved the cherry petals embroidered on her dress, and the glittering strings of stones in her hair caught the light, demanded attention. The screen zoomed in on her eyes…

Ochako couldn't put her finger on it, but suddenly the curtain with All Might's final battle on it made sense.

Without a word of explanation, Mrs. Midoriya started playing Remember the Sun. The recording they'd listened to months ago did not do the song justice. The acoustics of this stadium were marvelous—how did they give one voice and one violin so much power? Ochako looked back at one point, and Kyoka was silently bawling her eyes out. Yao-momo beside her also looked deeply moved. Kirishima below them was also sobbing, and Bakugou… maybe a bug had flown into his eye or something? Deku was, somehow, the only person Ochako could see through her own tears who wasn't crying.

The song ended, to a standing ovation. Mrs. Midoriya bowed. The screen behind her read: "Nothing like a good cry, right folks? This next one should pick up the pace." The screen read "You Say Run", and the audience started moving as Mrs. Midoriya plucked at the strings of her violin. And… was she whistling?

Bakugou got up, pulling Kirishima with him. "Bakugou! Wh—"

"We need to move." Mrs. Midoriya made her violin shriek as she raked her bow across the strings. It was a perfect contrast, the delicate beauty and slow power of Remember the Sun against the wild energy of this. Ochako got up, pulling Deku with her, and they and all the rest of Class 1-A danced on the stairs as people flooded the open space below.

Mrs. Midoriya played on. Ochako glanced at the playlist everyone had been handed at the door; Idiot Kitsune was apparently one of those classy retorts Kimeru-chan had levelled at a less classy artist who'd tried to smear her; it was fun and bouncy. Turtle and Dragon was a song about some maritime disaster from long before Ochako was born. Blue's Journey was about a lonely ogre who traveled the world; it was sad, because he'd left his friend behind forever. The New Satin Gown wasa critique of some of the luxuries the corrupt rich had indulged in when thousands struggled to get by; the anger Mrs. Midoriya's violin conveyed made an incredible duet with the oblivious happiness of her words and voice. There were others—lots of others—and Mrs. Midoriya never left the stage. Her dress swirled and rippled as she danced to her own music. There was a… an untitled new piece? And then an award presentation at the end.

And then, as Ochako checked her antique pocket-watch—her grandfather had collected them—and wondered where two and a half hours had gone, there was a pause.

"What's going on?" Kaminari said from a couple rows down.

"Apparently this is a song Mom hasn't published yet," Deku said. A light went on in his eyes. "She was talking about this. Not even Shikoku Records has heard this one, so we might be the first to have ever heard it played!"

"That's amazing!" Kyoka said, planting a foot on the back of Deku's seat. "Bring it on! Let's hear it!"

It was like Mrs. Midoriya heard her. She raised her hands for quiet. "Please rise". Her voice was quite gentle when she wasn't singing, but there was a command in it that Ochako didn't think anyone would ignore.

She took three steps back, turned around, and set down her bow and violin. Then returned to the front of the stage, and set her hands over her heart. When she began to sing, Ochako realized that she wouldn't hear the equal of this ever again.

"In spring I set a fire in you,

So bright and hot it lit the world.

The dawn light shone from in your heart,

Voyage begun, your sails unfurled.

Symbol of Peace, thank you so much.

All Might, we know you are not gone."

Deku was already crying. So was Ochako, and everybody she could see, for that matter. Mrs. Midoriya's voice… how could the woman who'd softly offered tea and cookies while they studied at Deku's sing so wonderfully the gods took notice?

"The summer came, and up you rose.

Peerless knight who knew no bounds,

Who fought so hard in noonday sun,

Even now, your laugh resounds.

Symbol of Peace, you changed the world.

All Might, we loved your guiding hand."

Ochako didn't need the big screens to see Inko turn to the curtain, and beckon, ever so gently, with one hand. The curtain stirred.

"What the—" Kyoka's curse was blocked out by Deku.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god—"

All Might was on stage, tentative, but obedient to Mrs. Midoriya's summons.

"Now autumn's here and you must rest.

The world knows what you have done.

What you have given to us all:

You parted clouds, you brought the sun.

Symbol of Peace, your fire's not out.

All Might, it burns within us all."

That last note carried for so long, Ochako wasn't sure when it ended. She'd never heard anything so overwhelming, the power and emotion of that one voice, its thrum in her chest from so far away.

And then the curtain rippled again. And a figure came out who Ochako had not been expecting to see here, who's picture she'd only seen in school and recent history textbooks, but who made everyone in that stadium stand up straighter.

Behind her, Kyoka hissed, "Holy shit, is that—"

(On Stage)

The Empress. Toshinori froze, then bowed as low as he could manage. He chanced a sidelong glance at Inko. She had bowed low to the Empress and her attendant carrying a small black case, but did she have just the hint of a mischievous smile? He'd known there was an award presentation after the show, but he'd never thought—

"Rise." They rose. Empress Sakura was seventy-five years old and perhaps seventy-five pounds sopping wet, yet there wasn't a grey hair on her head. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she met Toshinori's gaze. "You refused a National Honour Award from the Prime Minister a number of years ago, All Might," she said, covering her microphone. "I hope you will not refuse me today."

"N-no," Toshinori almost jumped out of his skin at the thought, "Of course not, Heavenly Sovereign! I-it is a great honour to—" she gently raised her hand, and he was struck dumb.

"Kimeru-chan," the Empress said, and Inko inclined her head, "since your career extends before that of All Might, and I hear you originally inspired him to become the Symbol of Peace, I believe your award takes precedence." Inko did look taken aback at that. The Empress's attendant opened the case. There were two awards in it, identical to one another, and a diploma with each.

"In honour of a lengthy career of distinguished service to and advancement of the Japanese people and culture in times of great need, I, Empress Sakura, Heavenly Sovereign of Japan, award to Kimeru-chan, the Voice of Japan, the Order of the Rising Sun, Third Class." Inko flushed beet-red—Toshinori chuckled to himself—and bowed low, while the Empress hung the medal about her neck, and handed Inko her diploma. "Thank you." Inko looked like she might actually be beyond tears.

Then the Empress turned to All Might. "In honour of your lengthy career and the great personal risk and sacrifice therein, for ending a lengthy period of strife, and re-defining Japan for the last generation, I award, to All Might, the Symbol of Peace, the Order of the Rising Sun, Third Class." Toshinori pushed himself into muscle-form again and knelt. The Empress slid the medal over his neck, and handed him his diploma, even as he deflated. Then she raised her voice. "Show these heroes of Japan your respect, my people. They are a rare thing." And she bowed to the pair of them.

(After the Concert)

"So, to be clear," Inko said as she opened her dressing room door and held it for Toshinori, "you had no idea you were going to be receiving an award tonight?"

"None." He turned to her, and there was a grin on his face. "Did you know you were going to be receiving an award tonight?"

Inko shook her head. "I'd heard that the Empress liked my poetry, but to receive a national award from her…" She giggled. Then her arms were around Toshinori, and she pulled him down for a kiss. He twisted and stumbled, and she fell with him against the door. She looked up at him, into those incredible eyes. She locked the door. "I don't want any interruptions." She felt Toshinori's skin shiver.

"Miss Kano?"

Inko shrugged, reaching around to the zipper on the back of her dress. "I'm a grown woman. She'll try the door, I'll… imply what's going on, and she'll stand guard down the hall."

"She's worth her weight in gold." Toshinori brushed a hand against Inko's now-bare shoulder.

"I agree." She unbuttoned his suit jacket and dress shirt, and pulled them back. The scar in Toshinori's side was horrible to look at, but not because it was ugly. Inko gently ran a hand over it, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to the crater in his skin.

"Toshinori?"

"Yes?" he sounded like he could barely speak.

"What was worth this?"

There was a quiet moment. She looked up. His expression was so loving and gentle she started crying. He kissed each eye.

"Everyone."