The night air was so frigid that even he braced his arms against its bite. He allowed himself to shiver, glaring daggers around the corner of the wall of the dock building he leant against.
The blackness that surrounding him was as unrelenting as the cold, suffocating perhaps, but he had never been one to struggle for air so he paid it little mind.
Shit. He was being kept waiting. He detested many things, and one of those things was being kept waiting.
The skin constricting his neck itched, like it was crawling with mites. Restless. He scratched it. The itch didn't recede. It worsened.
Shit. Damn damn damn it all.
There was a voice, maybe two, in the distance, the soles of feet stumbling on dampened concrete, and the filthy human heart that jumbled up this filthy human ribcage skipped a beat. Something like hope clogged in the back of his throat. Just for a moment. Then his hearing sharpened and filtered the voices for him, translated their distant rumbles into slurs and catcalls, stupid office drones permeating the air around them with their drunken stupor. He slouched back against the wall, swallowing the hope in his throat with a growl. Another fucking false alarm.
How he loathed this world and the despicable race that tarnished its fringes. Why fate continually cursed him to wallow in the fringes of its existence, he would never understand.
He scratched.
Human voices taunting my ears. Their stench cloying my senses.
Scratched.
I could silence them myself. It would be so simple.
Scratched scratched scratched
Force this shell's hands down their throats, rip out their tracheas in a second flat.
Scratched scratched scratched scratched-
Yank the ribs from their chest, one by one, drill them through the fleshy part of their hands like stigmata, oh it would be easy, S Y-
His shell's fingernail splintered against the skin of its throat the exact moment he caught a familiar scent.
Human sweat and skin and heat mingled with dust and sulphur and soot and thick thick drying blood-
He launched his open palm towards an exposed jugular the exact same second his arm was grasped by an unmovable hand. He turned his gaze to the left and narrowed his eyes at the newcomer before him, a three-piece suit shrouded by a form seemingly composed of superfluous purple smoke. Yellow slanted eyes cut into the fog that lingered from the neck of the suit up, the only possible feature that could be interpreted from the ether that was the creature's face.
Neither figure moved an inch further. The newcomer's pupil-less slants narrowed, slicing even further into the smog of its face.
Silence.
"Took you long enough," Tomura Shigaraki rasped, twisting his arm from the smoke's clutch. His associate's eyes considered his neck, thinly weeping blood in the places where the skin had been broken by cracked fingernails.
"You were restless, I take it," Kurogiri said evenly. Shigaraki levelled him with a stony glower, massaging the skin of his wrists where the circulation had been cut off.
"You made me wait," he snapped.
"You know as well as anyone that I couldn't risk being followed. You know how… persistent U.A's agents can be."
"And you made me wait."
A pause ghosted between the pair. Kurogiri bowed his head, ever so slightly.
"I apologise."
Shigaraki scoffed.
"It doesn't matter. It'll heal, anyway." He traced a scratch on his throat, the skin already threading itself back together as if it were never marred in the first place. "This vessel may be contemptible, but it is resilient."
Kurogiri said nothing. He turned his eyes towards the docks, the expanse of water that stretched before them swallowing the horizon with opaque blackness. Not even the moon's reflection was visible in it.
"So," he murmured, "Is it true?"
Shigaraki huffed, an effort to quash the sense of something that leapt in his chest. "Yes."
"They really found it?"
"Yes."
"After all this time-"
"I have it on good authority."
"And whose authority is that?"
Shigaraki ripped off the splinter of his nail with his canines. "His."
Kurogiri hummed in response, bolstering his mask of placidity, but the edge of raw excitement that buzzed in the noise could not be missed.
"If this is really true, then very soon… this world is going to change," he mused, folding his arms, "And the humans have no idea what's coming."
"You're wrong."
Kurogiri quirked his head towards Shigaraki. "Oh?"
"You said this world is going to change," he muttered, scratching at the ants beneath the now-healed skin of his neck once more, eyes drinking in inky blackness of the water that rippled before them, "You're wrong."
"How so?"
"This world isn't going to change,"-
- another fingernail split, and Shigaraki's features twisted with sadistic glee-
"This world is going to end."
"Guys," Izuku began, as his eyes accustomed themselves to the hazy stars that cluttered his vision, "I think I have a concussion."
"Oh for god's sake, Deku, again?" Uraraka groaned between gritted teeth somewhere to his left, "That's gotta be the second time this month!" There was a resounding thwack of her leg making contact with something that yelped, and it reverberated throughout every cell in his body.
Damn, she's strong, he mused at first, before realising that those tremors in his cells were most likely down to a possible head injury and not the sheer force generated by Uraraka's kicks.
"Midoriya, I don't mean to be rude, but now is not the time," a strained voice called to his right, sounding like it was struggling against something that was incredibly pushy and incredibly persistent. Oh. That's right. Iida's here.
Izuku blinked as hard as he could and at least half of the stars dissolved into the night air. Registering that he was laid flat against a slippery pavement, he sat up and instantly regretted his decision when his vision skewed to a ninety-degree angle. "Oh no."
"WATCH OUT, MIDORIYA!"
"Huh?" Izuku said stupidly, before-
THUMP. A small but solid mass rammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs and forcing him back against the concrete again. Izuku choked out a cry and braced his arms in front of his face, barely saving his eyes from being scratched out of his skull by the claws of the thing that weighed down his chest. Instead, it tore through the left sleeve of his jacket and left a stinging gash across his forearm in its wake. Izuku swore and twisted his body against the mass, his vision sharpening as he took in the sight of his assailant.
Slimy green skin permeated every inch of its features, limp khaki locks of something like hair dripping moisture down a beaked mouth, a sunken visage twisted into a screech, webbed hands adorned with talons that were being brought down towards Izuku's face holy crap-
Izuku rolled his head to the right and narrowly avoided having a lovely new laceration carved into his cheek with mossy green talons. He struggled against the creature, twisting his arms around so he could get a firm grip around its beak before forcibly throwing it off his body with considerable force. The thing gurgled out a squeal as it was flung against the pavement, and Izuku took the momentary reprieve from constant unrelenting violence to clasp the hand that was offered to him and allow it to yank him to his feet.
"You're bleeding again," Asui stated, blunt as ever. Izuku poked at the brand new abrasion that ran up his arm.
"It's shallow," he assured, shaking his head in an effort to dispel any residual dizziness, "Besides, I can barely feel it, what with the possible concussion and all." Shit, now he just felt even more nauseous.
Asui rolled her eyes, but didn't comment on Izuku's remarkable allergy to not causing himself physical harm. Or perhaps she was distracted when she was forced to pivot her shin away from the oncoming jaws of a small, enraged devil-thing.
"Deku!" Uraraka reached his side, and she wrapped her hand around his wrist so tightly that it stung. She was sweaty and dishevelled, cheeks tinged even pinker against the bitter cold air, and panting heavily. "Have you got the ginger?!"
Huh?
Ginger?
Wha-
"Oh!" Izuku exclaimed as the pieces fell back together in his mind, "Oh, that's right! Yes, yes I do!"
"Eureka," Asui grimaced somewhere beside him as he rummaged in the pockets of his now-sodden jacket, bringing her staff down upon the creature that was now continuing its unrelenting assault. It skittered out of the way in the nick of time, its back arched indignation as it screeched at her. Iida was hot on the monster's heels, glasses skewed on his face and teeth gritted, darting this way and that in an attempt to wrap a sturdy length of cord around its body. He didn't seem to be doing a very good job.
Ginger. Ginger! Of course, because, yes, we're out on patrol, on a mission, and we certainly do need ginger, because even the most incompetent sad sack in our line of work knows that if anything's weakened by ginger, it's-
"For the kappa!" he exclaimed, producing the clear plastic sandwich bag of grated ginger from his pocket in triumph. He held out the sachet to Uraraka, who nodded wordlessly and instantly lurched forwards, a worn baton still gripped tightly in her hand.
"Asui, Iida!" she hollered. Asui seemed to grasp exactly what was being asked of her without words, as she tended to, and dodged to the side so that there was nothing blocking the kappa's path towards Uraraka. Iida promptly adjusted his position behind the creature and dove very pointedly and obviously towards it. The kappa squawked and clawed its way forwards on all fours, avoiding Iida's clutches and making a beeline across a patch of grass straight towards Izuku and Uraraka.
Izuku watched, not moving an inch, as Uraraka sprinted towards the advancing kappa, her pace unfaltering as she braced the baton in front of her, muscle memory predicting exactly what would happen next-
The kappa pounced at Uraraka with a squawk, practically foaming at the beak, and Uraraka halted her movement and quickly manoeuvred the baton so that it was caught in the creature's jaws rather than her throat, the force sending her stumbling backwards.
"DEKU!"
He didn't wait for Uraraka's call to surge forwards. He ran, ignoring the pounding in his head and tore the plastic bag of ginger open with shaking fingers. Just as he was reaching Uraraka's side, he dug a hand into the sachet and clasped a handful of its contents in his sweaty palm.
The kappa's eyes turned towards Izuku's advancing figure, beak still stuck around the baton in Uraraka's hands, just as he bent his arm back and flung a handful of ginger point-blank into its face. The creature wailed and shut its eyes against the assault, releasing Uraraka's baton from its gums and dropping to the grass like its limbs were leaden with stones. Asui was at its side in seconds, the end of her staff held mere inches away from the creature as it squirmed blindly on the ground. Iida skidded through a puddle to and braced his knee against the moaning kappa's back, winding the thick capture cord tightly around its body.
Uraraka exhaled deeply beside Izuku, and sank to her knees on the wet pavement. "Well, that was more of a pain in the ass than we expected." Izuku huffed out a humourless laugh as he prodded the newly tender spot at the back of his head.
"Tell me about it."
"The kappa is secure!" Iida called, knee still planting the bastard firmly to the ground as a
precaution, and Asui relaxed her fighting stance at his side. "The mission was a success!"
Izuku exhaled through his nose. Well. That was embarrassingly difficult.
"Nice work, guys," Uraraka beamed, tucking her baton into its holster in her belt, "Now, let's get this thing into the van."
The group wordlessly agreed (perhaps they, like Izuku, were all stewing over their inability to snag the most basic of Japan's minor entities without a hitch like they were supposed to) and followed Uraraka's route away from the edge of the park they'd been in.
"Next time," Izuku groaned, "Let's start with the ginger. Not with potential brain damage."
"Hey Deku," Uraraka called cheerily, "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Huh? What are you-" Izuku whipped his head towards Uraraka, only to be greeted by the middle finger that was proudly brandished in his face. He huffed as Uraraka laughed her head off at her own gag and Iida, ever the prude, bless him, let out a choked sort-of spluttering noise at the gesture. "Oh. Oh, very funny. Are you forgetting about the possible serious head trauma?"
"Cheer up, Deku. We'll get it checked out back at the base," Uraraka chuckled, lightly punching his shoulder, "Once we've got this critter nicely secured in its new home."
"I would hardly call it a 'critter'," Iida muttered as he lugged the violently fidgeting kappa along under his arm. Asui let out a hum of agreement.
Objective: Capture.
Location: Yoyogi Park
Target: At least one kappa has been sighted numerous times near bodies of water throughout the eastern parts of the park. The creature has attacked and injured up to 4 reported victims now. Apprehension urgent. Do not kill unless as a last resort. Bring back to U.A. labs for further analysis.
Izuku's aching mind lingered on the mission's details once more, and despite the pain pulsing across the back of his skull he felt a grin playing on his lips.
"Well," he concluded resolutely, "Here's to another night we're we almost died but didn't. Again." Not one of his teammates argued with him that one.
They were front-line agents for the U.A. Paranormal Investigation Agency, after all. Tasked with combatting and defending against supernatural powers beyond the average human's realm of understanding. They'd experienced enough horrors to make any hardened soul quake in their boots. Unfortunately for them, they had certainly seen much worse in the darkness than a typical grab-and-go mission like this at the dead of night.
An occupational hazard really- especially when your job, like Izuku's, involved literally combatting the stuff of nightmares on a daily basis.
"I need a vacation," he declared to the night sky.
He liked to think the night sky, and not one of his friends, hummed in agreement.
The boy resurfaced from the abyssal depths of his dream with not enough breath and far too much terror contorting his insides.
He sat up in his bed, spine rigid with anxiety and sweat dripping from his skin as the embers of the nightmare smouldered in his mind, hot and cruel.
And yet, the room was not as dark as it should've been. In fact, it seemed dimly lit.
It took a good few seconds of this for him to realise that the left side of his face was burning. Really burning.
He choked out a curse as his hand whipped to his face, extinguishing the flames that had risen from his skin in less than a second, and his room was plunged into darkness once again.
And yet-
The left side of his face still burned. Not with the involuntary flames of before, but- he realised, with listless horror- with something else entirely. Something he hadn't felt in a very, very long time.
"No," he whispered to the suffocating darkness, "Please."
The dark ignored him and said nothing back.
This can't be happening, he thought desperately, and yet it was.
Something ignited in his chest and flared throughout every fibre of his body like an incendiary hurricane, and he for once in his life he longed for this fire to be his own to control.
Instead, this boy spent the remainder of his night cradling his knees tight against a shuddering chest, wishing more than anything that his bedsheets would tangle their way into his cells and rip him apart atom by atom until he could no longer hear the call of flames.
