Vague recollections drifted across what of his consciousness remained. Images of a rosy cheeked girl staring down at him, worry shining in her eyes. The square jawed boy with the glasses shouting for a medic, waving his arms about in manner not dissimilar to the way the machines had been moving. A pink haired and skinned girl with white horns protruding from her curly locks, peering curiously at him. Her golden irises surrounded by black sclera were wide as she fidgeted nervously. Elsewhere, in the distance, a yellow haired boy stumbled about like a buffoon. His hands giving thumbs up as he murmured nonsense with a very stupid grin. Trying to corral him was another blond, the kid with that weird belt, clutching his gut and complaining of a 'tummy ache'. Then, an old lady hobbling on an equally ancient walking stick had approached with two robots, carrying a stretcher between them. No... get away... Something was said about an infirmary, his hand reached up to warn them away but was sternly, and gently, lowered by the brown haired girl. "Just rest, okay?" The only words yet to actually reached his mind, and they prompted a sluggish nod as he fell back into darkness. "Thank you..." A whisper following him into that abyss called sleep. "For saving me."
Whatever happened next went beyond his perceptions. All he knew was that, when he awoke, he was in what looked like a nurse's office. White, tiled ceiling, similar enough walls, shelves lined with medical texts and equipment. From the feeling of much of his skin he'd been thoroughly bandaged, he pobably looked like an ancient pharaoh laid to rest. Raising his hands found that observation to be correct. When his bleary eyes reached the IV in his arm he just about panicked. Someone had the brilliant idea of giving him a transfusion. A slight twinge in his head gave way to a trace inkling on the matter, but of only voices.
He's lost too much blood, A gruff, tired voice echoed in his memories as he looked at the IV bag, using your quirk on him will only kill him.
We can't just do nothing Aizawa. Said the voice of an elderly woman, Do you have a suggestion or are you just here to prevent me from treating patients?
...Give him a transfusion first. Was the reply of this 'Aizawa' character, Give him some strength back before jump starting his body's recovery.
Or was that what had happened? A glance around the room afforded no possible source for an answer. Laying back against his pillow he closed his eyes, giving in to his fatigue once again. At the realization that he wasn't hungry, he gave a bitter laugh and had to ponder whether his appetite had been curbed, those weeks ago at the beginning, with that first transfusion at the hospital. If it hadn't... what manner of dire turn might his recovery have taken? Such thoughts made him shiver, despite his present warmth, cocooned in blankets. He eyed the transfusion bag sourly, accusingly. Were it that he hadn't needed such a diet to survive... Not that there was much to be done about it now, nor that there ever would be. For the next few hours he lay there in silence, unable to contemplate much else but the ticking of the clock. At the sun falling to the horizon's crest he heard the door to the room open. Who would it be but the nurse of the school, The Healing Hero: Recovery Girl. Deku had to wonder if all the staff were professional heroes at one point or another... "Well," said she, "you look like you've got some color back." Approaching the bed she put a hand on his forehead. "Some temperature too." Brushing some of his hair aside she leaned toward his forehead and pressed her lips flush against it. Before Deku could question 'just what the hell she was doing' a fit of fatigue blindsided him. It was a feeling similar to that of stretching a long unused muscle first thing in the morning: rejuvenating, liberating and mildly tiring. Only in this instance it was outright exhausting, had he not been in bed already he might have fallen over.
"Wha-..." darkness encroached on his vision again, threatening another lapse of consciousness, "What did you do?"
"Oh just patching up your injuries." Recovery Girl laughed. "You don't think my name was chosen at random, do you?" He shook his head sheepishly after a moment, then she ruffled his already terribly fluffy, cow-lick ridden hair. "Well, give it a little while longer to rest. You'll be back on your feet in no time." Laying back, head slumping back into his pillow, Deku tried his best to relax. As Recovery Girl left the room his gaze turned to the IV bag. Really it was lucky that he'd been given a transfusion but it left him wondering. Just why was he given that instead of intravenous nutrient therapy? Considering his blood loss it wasn't altogether unorthodox but... no. Perhaps he was over thinking it. What did he really know about medicine anyways? Another bitter smile crossed his lips as a thought did much the same to his mind: More than I know about my powers. Just as the Healing Hero had said, he was ready to leave less than an hour later. Removing his bandages -miraculously he found a complete absence of scar tissue- and changing into the spare outfit in his backpack he pulled the IV from his arm and headed for the door. Once outside the building he winced at the setting sun, realizing he'd have to get new sunglasses. With a groan he fished through his pockets for some spare change. Not a lot, but it sufficed for the shopkeeper he spoke briefly with. At least for a silly looking pair. Perfectly circular rims... his least favorite, so it was with some dismay that he admitted these were stronger than the last pair he owned. That the lenses were tinted a blackish red made him wonder if the hands of fate -should they truly exist- were just taunting him.
His walk home felt as though it were taking far longer than his walk to the school. A text to his mother told her that he was en route, another few later and he'd eased her fear that he'd been gravely injured. He had been, of course, but that was by what he would now have to consider his previous standards. It seemed he was able to take quite some amount of punishment. If his bones hadn't been broken by that gargantuan machine, his mind staggered at the thought of what might be required for such injuries to be inflicted upon his person. Alas, he knew not whether they had been. His pain receptors had been quite overloaded in that brief round of combat.
Although, even if his bones had been broken, the injuries he'd sustained were beyond lethal. That he had no trace of a concussion was astounding, a feat bordering on miraculous. The amount of punishment he was capable of taking would be the thing of envy to most professionals. According to some rather amateur guesswork on his part, he'd really only been 'functional' for the first two thirds of what he'd endured. The majority of his injuries had been dealt to him in that final strike, before the others had destroyed the machine. Just why it was programmed to be so murderously hostile was a subject of worry for the poor teenager. If someone else had been that thing's target what would have happened? Could they have survived even one punch from it? Even if they did, the inevitable injuries wouldn't leave them in much of a position to escape. How many prospective students died every year trying to fight those things? With such gross incompetence on display for the entrance exams alone, he worried about the rest of the year might-
...Ah, that was right, wasn't it? His final score hadn't been that high. Barely competitive with the other students, if it could even be described as such. His final tally, if he was being generous with himself, couldn't have been higher than fifteen. Even if he was assuming that their performances were graded at twice the normal scale he hadn't even gotten the higher end of an ' F '. Still, he had to try. It had been his dream since he was old enough to even know what a hero was. If he hadn't tried he doubted he'd be able to live with himself, especially now that he was a blood sucking monster of the night. Speaking of which, he still didn't have any idea what he was anymore. 'Human' was the word he desperately clung to but had reservations for allowing full belief thereof. Spiders -he shivered considerably at the word- were the only thing other than ticks or mosquitoes that he could compare himself to. Butterflies could drink blood too, now that he thought of it... His range of abilities was too focused, too narrow and didn't align with any of those creatures. For one, he couldn't fly, so that ruled out two of them. Jumping incredible distances was the extent to which he was familiar with extraordinary methods of travel. He had fangs, his claws being the most recent development, now fed only on blood, enhanced strength and senses, evidently he also possessed astounding durability; or at least a hefty capacity to ignore his injuries well past the point of most people, let alone heroes. A lack of spinnerets -for which he was exceedingly grateful- ruled out the most unsavory option. So that left ticks and fleas. Not ideal comparisons. Of course, now that he thought of it, a hero named 'The Tick' or possessing powers similar to one sounded absolutely absurd. What was next? A villain who's only power was having a chair for a head? No. His powers had to be from something else, so said his claws.
Claws... only the most recent to the list. He was gaining questions faster than answers. Being alone in this, no guide or teacher to turn to, was rather discouraging. Finding that Lady, the one who'd bestowed these powers upon him, had crossed his mind but he hadn't the faintest idea where to begin looking. Lying in wait outside the butcher's shop all week seemed an unlikely option to work. She would doubtlessly be more watchful, more careful than to allow one such as he to observe her without her wishing it. But then why wouldn't she want him to find her? She was the one who sought him out, saved his life and made him like this. Well, it seemed as decent a plan as any. Maybe from her he'd get something, an answer, guidance; he'd take anything at this point. What he desired most was a method of self control. For some reason he doubted she'd have an answer for that one... "A hunger unlike any you've ever known, a life devoid of companionship..." That such was her prediction of his future seemed to betray her would-be answer to that line of questioning. So resign he did just to venture home and rest, to enjoy the quiet in his stomach for as long as it lasted.
By the time he fumbled inside his home, Deku had no energy left to work with. So off he stumbled to his bed, not bothering to do much more than strip before falling onto the sheets and wrapping himself up in them. A fitful sleep though it was, plagued by his usual assortment of nightmares, he found himself waking upon the floor. Not something he'd done since early in elementary school. Rubbing the stiffness from his neck he stood up and pulled some clean clothes over his frame. It wasn't exactly early, but he cared not. With no responsibilities to consider he shuffled from his room and searched for something his mother hadn't cleaned yet. Eventually he settled for vacuuming the house, with an encore of dusting the ceiling. Following up this act was a generous scrubbing of the bathroom and cleaning the kitchen sink. By the time Mrs Midoriya crossed the threshold of the family home he'd scrubbed the floors down too. "Izu," she smiled, "what's gotten into you?"
If you only knew... "Didn't really know what else to do today," admitted he, "just thought I'd make up for the last week away from home." He offered with a timid, little smile.
"Aww," she beamed squeezing the silly lad in the kind of hug only a mom could give, "you didn't have to do that." releasing him she said, "How about tonight we watch part three of those documentaries you like?" He had to bite back a scream. "They aired part three of it just a few days ago." But that happy almost excited look on her face...
The slight smirk he gave, had anyone been aware of the terror wracking his nerves, would have earned him an Oscar. For his acting betrayed not one iota of his fear. "Sure, that sounds great mom." Kill me now... So it was grim reluctance that he settled in with his mom for another night of spine tingling horror at the hands of nature. He half suspected the camera men rather enjoyed their work on this production a bit too much... Eventually, with knuckles gone white from the grip on his knees and color drained partially from his face, he sighed in relief as the documentary ended. To his surprise Mrs Midoriya only yawned, stretching her limbs a bit before standing up.
"And so the trilogy ends." she mused almost sighing a little. All Deku could do was thank his nonexistent gods that it was over. Ruffling his hair, Mrs Midoriya kissed his forehead. "Thanks for cleaning up, my little hero." He couldn't help the smirk that followed. Worth it. With another yawn she bid him goodnight and wandered off after he returned the sentiment. So there he was, in no mood to sleep, huddled up on the couch and fidgeting with the hem of his pant legs. With nothing better to do other than sit and try to erase what he'd just seen from his mind he did precisely that. Given his doubtless failure to enter UA he began fishing through his brain for other possibilities, other schools with hero courses he could still test into. After a few moments he grabbed a notebook from his room and began jotting down notes, looking up various things on his phone and coming up with a schedule for all the entrance exams he'd be taking.
Vrrrm... Vrrrrrm...
Deku's ears perked up at the sound of his phone going off. His hand drifted to the outdated device and swiped the notification open. Eyes fluttering, surprised not at the message but at the name of the sender: Aizawa, he'd heard that name before he'd woken in Recovery Girl's office. It was an address followed by a short bit of instruction.
Come alone, meet me in the alley.
A chill ran over his skin, sending ripples of goosebumps in its path. To say this was unexpected was a drastic understatement. What business did a teacher at UA have with him? Not wanting to waste time Deku stood up and slipped into his shoes. Sunglasses secured in his pocket he broke into a jog. Granted it was a jog that happened to be a good deal faster than most people could run, but still it was a jog. Reaching the address in less time than he'd expected the fanged one glanced around, searching for the one who'd summoned him. When no sign of the man was forthcoming -not that he knew the man's appearance- he half suspected he'd arrived too early.
"Think fast."
Before Deku could discern where the voice had come from a foot came roaring toward his head. Reflexes taking over, his hands flew up to meet the limb striking for his face. Fingers gripping the appendage he spun on his heels at the sheer force of the strike, stumbling in his efforts to redirect the attack. His would be assailant flew, tossed aside by the teenager who's head he'd sought to drive his heel into. Hair floating, swaying as though carried by some ocean current, the man landed like a cat. Agile and accustomed to combating foes significantly more powerful than he. Flowing in the air around him, winding like tendrils of some creature, was his long, white scarf. Adorned on his long, angular face were a pair of vented, yellow goggles. "W-why did you do that!?" Deku stammered. "Who are- Hey!" The man had made for the wall and started climbing up the fire escape with almost inhuman speed. Following his instincts Deku gave chase, leaping up the side of the building after him. To his grim surprise the man in black was waiting for him. With a sharp, downward jab of his elbow he'd halted the teenagers ascension and sent him reeling back toward the street below. In a desperate attempt not to get another mouth full of pavement he reached out, fingers clawing for the wall. As his digits scraped along the rough surface of the bricks he felt his descent slowing. Eyes open, as his world stopped spinning, he noticed that he'd stopped moving. Which was odd, due to the fact that his claws were sheathed and his fingers hadn't penetrated the surface. Yet his descent had halted altogether and his feet had never reached the ground. It was with increasingly widening eyes that reality dawned on him: he was clinging to the wall.
"As I thought." When Deku worked up the nerve to look up at his assailant, he saw him glaring down at him through his goggles. Hair still swaying as though underwater, his scarf lashed out like a mass of flailing tendrils and snared him. What followed was a rather undignified removal from the wall, a somersault over the man's head and a rather painful deposit upon the surface of the roof; all the doing of the man's scarf. "You're one of them."
Standing quickly, but keeping his distance, Deku eyed the man cautiously. "You- you know?" Answers though he wanted, he wasn't itching to get into another fight. Least of all with someone who was only after him. This man clearly knew how to fight, and without an innocent bystander to leap in and defend Deku found himself wanting to avoid confrontation.
But his aggressor had other ideas. Stepping forward every time the fanged teenager backpedaled he watched the younger one like a crazed hawk. "You're not very good at hiding." stated he, removing his goggles and revealing his narrow, bloodshot eyes. "As if hunting at a hero school wasn't brazen enough, you displayed multiple powers over the course of that exam." One finger raised, "Heightened strength," another followed, "agility, claws and incredible durability. Now either that was all you thought you'd need to survive the exam or you're not aware of your entire repertoire yet." The thought of yet more powers had Deku's head spinning, as did the prospect of his hunger growing with each power; Something that had only just occurred to him as a possibility. Granted he hadn't noticed any such thing happening but... that butcher had said The Lady cleaned out his supply of blood once a week while his own appetite remained at an even two gallons per month. At least so far. Cracking of the man's knuckles snapped his focus away from his thoughts. "Either way, I won't allow you to harm anyone else." He made a motion with his wrist, almost like he was drawing a dagger from his sleeve when a cackle split the night.
"Oh," and the voice attached to the laugh made Deku's spine tingle, "you wont have to worry about that." Turning around, he saw The Lady peering down at them from a nearby rooftop. She had a strangely bemused expression on her face, and- he couldn't believe what she was holding. "He wants to be like you when he grows up." And with a flick of her wrist she threw the tattered notebook right into his grasp. After a few moments of flipping through it the Hero's expression lost a hint of its severity. "Don't you think that's sweet, Aizawa?"
While it wasn't much of a revelation, it did surprise the greenhead to learn this was the man who'd summoned him here. What had his focus however was the notebook in the Professional's hand. "For the Future..." Aizawa murmured, glancing up at Deku, letting his scrutinizing gaze speak for him. After a few moments he looked back at The Lady. "So... you're the one who turned him then..." the sound of boots clattering onto the roof told him that she'd leapt down beside him. It was a minor miracle he hadn't leapt aside in fright, but for some reason his instincts told him he had nothing to fear from her. Although that was somehow unsettling in and of itself. Holding up the notebook he added, "what makes you think he can even do this?" Deku's eyes flashed between the two adults. "Not even you have ever managed to completely gain control of yourself." It was the most outlandish thing: where the hero made him feel afraid, threatened, the being he knew to be a predator actually comforted him with her presence. Even her clawed hand, resting lightly on his shoulder, only served to put him at ease. "He's only a child. What can you possibly say to justify turning him into that?"
While Aizawa had hidden none of the venom, the sizzling rage in his voice, The Lady hadn't cared. Reacting only with apparent amusement she lilted her head to one side with a casual little smirk. "I was no different when I was turned, my old friend." The hero seemed conflicted by being addressed with such a label, so said the subtle flinch of his tired features and momentary shifting of his eyes. "This little one," her hand patted almost affectionately at the younger man's shoulder, "he was there at that slime villain's little rampage." The confused expression Aizawa gave her prompted further explanation. "You had to have noticed," drawled she, "with those sharp eyes of yours, this little one running into the fray?" A slight widening of his eyes, sinking, lowering of his other facial features. "Didn't you notice that something -some one- had been tossed from the chaos?" Her smile widened, almost unnoticeably. "Quirkless, Young Midoriya here did what so many heroes already present hadn't dared, and it cost him his life." Slowly, the teenager in question turned to look at the woman speaking. When his eyes found her she almost seemed like she was looking fondly at him. "Wouldn't it have been a waste to let that be the end of him?"
Aizawa remained silent, contemplating her words while looking Deku up and down. It was true that he seemed harmless enough. That he hadn't retaliated for any of the attempts made to harm him was certainly a point in his favor. But... The man sighed, hands sliding into his pockets. "Does he even know what he is?" His tone had lost its edge, now denoting genuine concern. "What you are?" At The Lady's questioning glance Deku shook his head and Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "It's been almost a month since he turned..." grumbled he, pulling a hip flask from his pocket and taking a long sip. "You really haven't told him anything?"
Another smile, this one bearing a sardonic tint. "I wanted to see what he would do." Explained she. "If he would live up to my initial expectations." She released his shoulder after a gentle squeeze. "And he did. At every opportunity to give in, to let his hunger drive him, he resisted and prevailed." With a slight shrug she added, "There... might have been some slip ups here and there, but aren't there always with ones so young?" And she looked Aizawa right in the eye.
His only reply was to narrow his own as he gazed back. "Most other teenagers don't have to fight urges that could kill people."
And The Lady laughed. "We live in a world were people are born with the ability to decimate cities and you think he is the only one living as a possible liability? A threat?" She shook her head, only a trace of her little smirk remaining. "Tell me, what do you think would happen if a man such as All Might lost his temper? What do you think the fallout would be from that?" And the last traces of bemusement disappeared. "Can you imagine it?"
"I don't have to." Was Aizawa's simple reply.
"Then we understand each other?"
He considered the boy and the woman for a few tense moments. Eying them both with equal scrutiny until his shoulders sank and he let out another sigh. "Teach him about what he is," and he turned around, "he has a week to prepare for my class."
Deku's eyes widened. "What!?" he cried is disbelief. "You mean I passed?!"
Another, growling sigh escaped the hero's throat. "All of this and that's what you react to..." he dug a palm into one of his temples. "Yeah kid, you passed." he turned back around, obvious emotional fatigue plastered on his face. "In saving Uraraka you got sixty rescue points. Thanks your careless bravado she also passed because she had to save you." Deku blinked rapidly, jaw lowering a little as his breath caught. Some sliver of hope had just been planted back in his chest. "Funny thing about that entire encounter..." Aizawa remarked. "Had you not been there it wouldn't have been nearly so bad."
Another flutter of the teenager's eyes. "W-wha...?"
"See," Aizawa rubbed at a bloodshot eye, "we're not idiots. Those machines have safety measures which prevent them from killing prospective students. The only things they wont hold back against are known villains..." His eyes narrowed again. "Care to guess what else they attack with impunity?"
This time, it was Deku's turn for his shoulders to go slack with the weight of his emotions. "...People like me." His gaze lowered to the ground. "So... if I hadn't been there..."
"It likely wouldn't have been a threat to anyone." Aizawa attempted to soften none of the blow those words delivered. "You're lucky I didn't expose your little secret."
Wait... "W-why didn't you?" Deku asked.
A line of questioning that gave the hero pause. Rather than answer right away he turned back around, hands once again in his pockets, and considered what lie he might tell. In a twist of whimsy, he went with the truth. "I recognize heroism when I see it." An almost touching sentiment. "Figured you deserved a chance to prove yourself. What I didn't figure was..." he turned his face toward the stars above. "that my own prejudices would prevent me from following that through." For a brief moment, from the edge of the Man's sleeve, he thought he saw a glint of light, reflecting on metal. As the reflecting light flickered away Aizawa began to leave. "You have one week to prepare yourself." And he tossed the old, battered notebook over his shoulder with such precision that it landed right in Deku's hands. "Do not disappoint me, 'Young Midoriya'." At that sentence's conclusion, Aizawa bounded off the roof, into the night.
A lot of information to process... he hadn't the faintest idea where to begin doing so either. Pushing that concern well and truly away was the movement in the corner of his eye. The Lady must have been working overtime to resist the urge to latch onto the now absent hero's throat. A violent twitching of her arm, only ceased by her other hand grasping the shaking limb. To his surprise, Deku's hand had moved, reaching out unconsciously for her shoulder, out of the concern he felt for her. He stopped the motion cold, awkwardly putting his hand in his pocket, hoping she hadn't seen. Of course, she had however. Her little smile bore a hint of gratitude as she cast him a sidelong glance. "Worried, little one?" She put a hand over her forehead, squeezing fingers at her temples, massaging the sides of her skull. She chuckled, hummingly under her breath. "You needn't. I've just... not had enough to drink in some time."
Hesitant though he was to trust this woman, something in him compelled him to. There was this... disarming nature in her aura. He felt as though he were in presence of a very old friend, not that he knew the feeling from any other era of his life. "Are you alright?" Why did I ask her that...?
The smile perched upon her lips twitched. It was a subtle, fleeting motion but it was there nonetheless. "I'm fine, little one." she took a few idle steps toward the edge of the building and sat upon the ledge. His concern had hardly been eased, and that seemed to be something she felt compelled to address. "You really don't need to worry about me." Her tone left no room for doubt, it hit the young lad's emotional center like a stone. But... why? "I know I don't look it, but I've lived many a long year walking this earth..." She gave the night sky a longing glance, the nature of her little smile now becoming much clearer to the young man observing it. "The thirst for another's blood is not something creatures such as we can ignore for long. No matter how much you try to fight it..." she reached a slender, graceful hand toward the bright, blue moon. Fingers stretched out, longingly toward old, watchful Luna. "But my will is my own. When and where I lose that fight are well within my say." Though from the look on her face, he could tell -even with his limited interpersonal experience- that this was spoken more as a wish than a statement of any fact.
For a time, just a few quiet moments, he stood there and looked at her as the wind pushed gently over them. There was certainly an elegance about her, while it was something earned by the passage of her time spent wandering this world it bore with it a hint of something else. Something the young man had yet to learn, as only experience could teach what such a weight was bequeathed by. "Who are you?" Of all the questions he had, this one, somehow, seemed the most important. She'd given him a second chance at life, a fighting chance at his dream. He wanted to know. He needed to know.
Slowly, her gaze turned to his. Eyes glowing blue, now no longer hidden behind her sunglasses, blazing sharply into his. Considering his answer was no simple thing, from the look her face bore upon it. "You may call me Vanessa." She stood, much steadier than she'd been, and began striding toward the opposite end of the roof. "But that's not what you meant, is it?" She gave a knowing look, tone dropping some of its playful lilt.
"N-" stammered he, "not only..."
At his answer she drew in a slow, bracing breath. This was not a matter she'd spoken of since the day she was turned herself. Yet the topic demanded discussion, and so... "We're Vampires." Was Vanessa's simple reply. "The last Vampires..."
Some eons ago, at the dawn of the human race and when the world was young, existed a nomadic tribe. Traveling across the throat of the world -a mountain chain now long forgotten- they fell victim to the shifting of tectonic plates, though it was no simple earthquake that befell them. Rather than a tremor of the land the stone simply gave way beneath their feet. Thousands of humans fell into the abyss, screaming as the world swallowed them up. Many did not survive the descent, many more were devoured by the beasts that dwelled beneath the earth. When the dust settled, and the survivors found refuge in the underground caverns, it became clear that the dead were the lucky ones. No light with which to cook, or see by. No tools with which to hunt. In the barren land, so close to the center of the world, humanity carved a concept for itself in the stone that would reverberate forward, into the eons of the species and all that would be done to flee this one word: Hell. But humanity, as it was trapped in the underworld, survived. Several groups of them, three in total, splintered off from each other. Those without conscience or, perhaps sanity, were particularly adapted to this strange world. So it was, with such an advantage, that two of the groups managed to endure. Beneath the surface of world, one tribe became two. One resorting to a mix of cannibalism and near suicidal hunting tactics, taking on even the nastiest of predators roaming the underworld. Devolving to a prehistorically primitive state the members of this portion of the tribe forgot all that made them human, over time. Names, language, music, art, all forgotten in the madness that came from their need to live. The second portion of the tribe held onto their culture, their humanity in as many ways as they could. But the underworld is a place most unforgiving... their reluctance to change, to adapt to their new environment cost them dearly. For the first splinter of the tribe preyed upon them more so than anything else lurking in the dark. Their only method to avoid being eaten, killed or worse was to abandon light and fire. In doing so, as the eons rolled on, their eyes changed. Adapted to the complete, starless darkness of the world below. It was only through this miracle of evolution that they managed to linger on, and persist in their competition with the other splinter.
But this has said nothing of the third...
In the beginning, they were the smallest group. Thoroughly disadvantaged by sheer malignant luck, they'd fallen into the most inhospitable place in the underworld. Hounded by predators so ferocious they would be akin to a plague of locusts on the wildlife above, for they would consume all in their path. Such was the nature of their predatory habits upon these hapless humans. For centuries, beneath the soil and stone, they hounded them all, hunting them with relentless hunger until only seven remained. Born to the smallest, the youngest woman among them was a single child. A child they protected with their lives, until all but the mother were taken. Then there were only two. eventually, after years of running, they were cornered. Hiding the child away in a crevice in the rocks, she fought with all she had to protect her baby. Days went by, dozens of beasts were slain and eventually: she fell. Succumbing to injuries the most seasoned of warriors in the world above would not have been able to suffer, she died in time to assure her child that all was well. The danger was gone. There, cradling the dead woman in her arms, the child cried.
Were it only grief the little one had felt, history may have taken a much different turn. For in that moment, in the pitchest black any human had ever seen, the girl yielded to a hunger gifted to her by sheer, random chance of evolution. She bit into her dead mother's throat and drank. For every drop of blood she consumed her strength multiplied. Eventually, she moved to the corpses of the predators. Then she hunted the living ones, following their trails back to the other splinters and met more of her kind. Though the underworld had changed them, she recognized them as her own kin. The second splinter, those who could see in the black, were afraid of her. She was a goddess among insects, one with extraordinary power in a world where so few had the strength the cling to life's barest embers. A predator who possessed strength enough to rule as she saw fit. But in the trembling fear of the night-sighted ones, she saw her own reflection from when she was a child. So she spared them, aiding them in their bid to survive the underworld's harshest dangers. Into her twilight years, did she aid them, until she was made their leader. A wiser, more powerful leader they had not known since their descent into this rabid, merciless world. But it was not to last.
At the turn of that very year beneath the world, a new danger made itself known. For a creature, so horrid and ravenous it had been hunted to extinction in the world above, had fled to their home. A terrible, scaly thing with muscular, clawed limbs and breath of fire. It possessed an intelligence not seen in wilder creatures. It was ancient, angry and desperate. For with it was a small clutch of eggs, within were young it would one day need to feed. What better to feed them with than the human descendants lurking beneath the world? With a will unseen from most other creatures, it snared the minds of the first splinter, sending them to hunt at its bidding. It was then that these animalistic human descendants once again began to hunt their night-sighted kin. Only now 'The Lady' was there to defend them. With her immense strength she managed to fend off the attacking human offshoots and follow them back to their dens. It was there that she first laid eyes upon the creature, sending them to hunt their kin. When she saw it could snare the will of the living, replacing theirs with its, she fled in mad fear. But when she returned she found her tribe, those who trusted and followed her, had been taken away. In a rage, she tracked down more members of the cannibals in a desperate mission. Gazing into their eyes, praying with all she was, she found that she too could take the will of others and make it her own. Gifting them with their lost intelligence, surrendered to madness those long years ago, she led them against the creature and into war.
In the caverns, deep beneath the earth, the fire breathing monstrosity and its horde felled many of her followers. In the end, only a quarter of all humans living in the underworld remained. During the final moments of the battle the beast struck The Lady's chest with a savage claw as she drove a spire of stone through its head. So it was with a great tremor that the two goddesses fell. One the humans were glad to see gone, the other they would all sorely miss. With her dying breath she uttered the few simple words her mother had spoken at her passing: "Do not lose each other, for if you do, then all is lost." and then she died, gone to join her mother. For her funeral, she was placed on a raised, stone alter, looming overhead in the largest cavern. Her blood was made to flow freely, into pools at the base of the alter, and in her memory, they drank. The eldest of either kin walked to the top of the alter, after all had drank of her essence, and made a mighty declaration. She was the one who had, after so many years, reunited the tribe. The one who had seen them to safety and cared for them as if they were her own. In honoring the memory of her mother, of her family, she had become a mother to them all: She was 'The Night Mother', their guide in the dark and their savior.
over time, further centuries and millennia, the humans lost their differences to breeding together. From the first splinter, they gained retractable claws, the ability to cling to surfaces like spiders and great endurance. From the second, a great intellect and eyes of the night along with all other senses greatly enhanced. From the blood of the Night Mother, they gained strength and a thirst for blood which compelled them to leave the underworld, for they could not bear to harm each other any more. Not after her sacrifice for them all... so it was that their dwindled numbers headed for the surface in droves. To each corner of the world, exiting to find that much had changed, they joined the humans and started anew.
This, and only this, is the true origin of the Vampire species.
A gentle breeze wafted through an open window. Threadbare curtains, wisping in the wind like cobwebs, clung to what little remained of their anchor points. Moonlight shone into a dusty, bare apartment, afforded only a cursory amount of electricity; enough only for the fridge filled with blood. This was the place to which Deku had been led, and had been related the history of who were now his kin. "And now..." murmured Vanessa, a sad glint in her eye, "once again, we're only two." Her fingers fidgeted at the edge of her chair's armrest, picking bits of string and fluff from the fraying stitches. "Hunted by humanity until they thought us all extinct." With her other hand she raised a glass and half drained its crimson contents into her gullet. "That is... until one hunter took pity on one in particular."
From his spot on the floor, Deku could see a hint of tears at the corner of her eyes. At least... they might have been tears, were they not clearly so red. She reached up, and with her thumb and index finger, wiped the corners of her eyes. "You mean Aizawa?" she nodded at the mumbled question. "Why?"
All hints of joviality vanished from her face. "when..." she searched for a place to begin, "I was initially turned, I wasn't alone. It was me and my older sister." her eyes seemed to go dull, losing their color and glow as she spoke. "For a long time it was just the three of us, us and our teacher until he succumbed to father time." Pausing, she let out a long, slow breath. "Then Aizawa hunted us, us and our coven down." she was almost totally still, save for the movements of her lips and chest as she spoke. "He killed all but me and my sister. In a move I didn't predict, he threw a dagger at my heart. My sister, she..." her hand gripped the couch, face scrunching to hold in her tears. "Well, she's not around any more..." and she relaxed, having avoided the statement altogether, but it was obvious what had happened...
"But he spared you..." Deku mumbled. "Why did he do that?"
She looked him in the eye. "Rather than flee, after she died, I flung him aside and cradled her." The wounded, broken look in her eyes told all. "In that moment, as I cried over her without a thought to escape... I think he realized we were people." Her eyes shifted to the moon, Deku's to the floor in horrified contemplation.
Shota Aizawa, Eraser Head... he recognized the name now. A hero who avoided the spotlight like the plague, with such utter detest for the fame garnered for hero work. Was this the reason why? Was it guilt? Had it been because of that and similar incidents, because he had been a Vampire hunter all his career as a Hero? "So... what were you doing before you found me?" Deku asked, looking back at her. "Why did you save me?"
Her smile returned, though it was a somber little thing, perched on her lips. "Questions for another time, little one." She reached over and ruffled his cow-lick ridden hair. "I think it's time you headed home. Your mother will be worried sick if you stay out much later." She rose from her chair and wandered to the door, gesturing that she wanted to show him out.
Standing up, he complied. Following her to the exit she smiled warmly at him and waved as he left. "Will I-" why was he asking this? "Will I see you again... Vanessa?" It wasn't her last name, surely, but he felt like he was saying goodbye to family... what absurdity for that to be his feeling now.
In reply she nodded, "Goodnight, Izuku." Then waved as she shut the door. It was at a much slower pace than he'd ventured out with that he made the return journey. Trudging along, kicking up stray pebbles here and there, he tried to process all that he had just learned. He'd made it into UA, helping another student do so in the process no less. He now knew what Vampires were and that Aizawa had apparently killed quite a few of them here in Japan. At the top of that list however... he was one of two Vampires left in the world. Numbly, he reached for the doorknob of his home and entered. Sliding out of his shoes he wandered to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. After changing into his pajamas he climbed into bed, but found he could not sleep. So, with a breath that failed to alleviate any stress, he turned on the light and went to his desk. Opening the pages of his battered notebook for the future, he turned to nearest empty section and began to write everything he could remember about his powers. This particular chapter of his notes bore a rather obvious, though entirely necessary title: Vampires.
