Well, this took so long to update. I apologize for this. I am slowly leaving the fandom as something else had caught my attention so the updates will slow down even more. I'm also in college so this is understandable.

Trigger warnings: Talk of murder and the process of disposing of body (From first line break before the quote ""This cold and silent night calls to the lonely." to second line break)

Sir Nighteye stares at the desk in front of him. After his breakdown the last time, the pro-hero is now a little better if not tired. The murders are taking a toll on his mind and body, adding to the stress of the Shie Hassaikai. He doesn't understand. Doesn't understand how someone can be so sick and twisted. He can't figure out who it is without seeing his own future—something that is inexplicably impossible. Some of the words ring with familiarity but he cannot for the life of him figure out where or why.

Doing a bit of research, he finds some of them being excerpts from a Mexican-American author's works from a long time ago. He reads through some of the poems connecting some of them to the murders and messages that were being sent. There's one that catches his eye that Officer Sansa sent.

A Letter From the Darkness.

Bring no sorrows and bring no woes; give them no lies and give them no pain. Show no emotions and hide the rain. Hear the regret, hear the forgiveness but never forget. Kill the feelings of humanity, kill yourself and be reborn into a creature. Show that you are a monster and end the suffering. Kill the past and bring forth the future. Give yourself away to the Darkness, hide from the Light that holds agony. Carry the burden no more, transform your life and be free. Watch the fear in their eyes once they see the old you gone. You're a creature of death and losses. Never shall you be beneath anyone ever again.

Show them the monster you are, show them what they had made. Fight for your rights, for your life. Do not let them underestimate you, do not let them bring your spirit down. Scream at the tope of your lungs. Shout and cry out your pain, let the world know that you will now be pushed around anymore. Scream, "I am not yours to hurt!" You will not be silenced. Yell, "I am my own person! I am not a thing with no emotions! Can you not see the pain I hold inside?" Do not silence yourself for others. If you do, run. Run and leave those people alone—hide from the glares and hatred. Leave the past behind and start a new life.

Be gone and watch everyone forget you as if you never existed. Can you rest in peace? You were right; the Darkness hold you now and is comforting you. Now, go and act—it's your stage, on that can't be taken away. Now, keep your emotions hidden, monsters do not feel. Monsters are not human and now—and forever—will you have nothing. Hush, my child—the Darkness has you; it will never let you go. Join me, my child. Join the Darkness, for the Darkness shall care for you.

Sincerely,
The Darkness

"Acting human is not something someone like you should do. You are a monster, so act like a monster and show them why you are not to be messed with."

Nighteye's eyebrows furrow in confusion. Why would anyone write something like this? How can anyone write about this? He doesn't understand. What had the writer's goal been when writing such a letter? He shakes his head, not wanting to dwell to much on a dead author's work.

Inhaling, he hold his breath before releasing it. He does this for a couple of minutes to calm himself down. This isn't going anywhere and he has more pressing issues. The yakuza is starting to gain traction again. The murder isn't being put on hold, the police is handling it. Nighteye has to worry more about what's in his jurisdiction.

"This cold and silent night calls to the lonely.
The one continuously wishing to be free
From this life that's been complete hell.
For the wind carried the cries of the unwell.
Silence and isolation was all they've known,
Giving them cruel thoughts that chilled them to the bone."

—L.F. Garcia
"The Lonely"

Rising from his seated position, the Monochrome Figure decides to step off the ledge. He thinks of a story that he liked, one of betrayal and quite the twist in play. The crisp, autumn air bites at his ashy skin. His cheeks and the tip of his nose has white splotches instead of red.

As the town bustles around him, he keeps his head down, the area around him slowly losing color with each step forward. His quirk never shuts off, harmless but a lot of people find it annoying. He remembers well during his school days and the amount of humiliation he dealt with. The reason he turned to reading and with enough research led him to the writer behind the messages. He loves the work as she caught well on what he felt, allowing him to not feel alone. The darkness brought forth horrible, horrible thoughts and he felt like a terrible person—a monster. Then, he found her and her works and he thought, maybe I'm not alone in these feelings.

HIs first murder was sloppy. He threw the body into a river, making sure to gouge holes into it and weigh it down so that it could never resurface. He didn't tie the knots tight enough and the river ended up flooding. Terrible. He learned from that mistake.

He went and scouted for good dumping sites before his second murder. This time, he made sure to drain the blood and keep the body until after the gases dispersed. He then skinned the fingers and toes, pulling out the teeth, and scalped the head. The dumping of the body was unceremoniously, hidden in the small bit of woods. No news or anything came up on it, which he figured was an achievement.

From there, he spiraled, going after the weaker ones that hurt him. He made sure to start with the less noticeable ones, often depicting them as the Crimson Artist's victims when he felt like being a little adventurous and his confidence was at an all time high. Too bad they went on a hiatus, yet it had given him time to work around what he wanted. He wanted to target the focal point of his aggression and during the time the murders stilled, he came up with a plan.

He made a signature for himself. He had killed five people before deciding to go after the so-called hero. He sent four puzzles before killing an innocent bystander. From there, everything spiraled once more.

The Monochrome Figure breathes deeply, enjoying the scent of wet concrete after a thunderstorm, knowing well that red iron will be spilled tonight.

Seeing is believing. This is something said throughout time when confronted by accusations. No, Aizawa Shouta does not need to see it to believe it. He listens with rapt attention to his students and his blood boils. How dare‽ How dare Nighteye treat his student in such a way‽ He should have paid more attention to Midoriya but he has nineteen other students—he knows it's not his fault, but Midoriya is a troublemaker yet he feels like should have kept an eye on the kid.

If it hadn't been for his other students, he would have been left in the dark about this. He had trusted his student with this pro-hero and he is not going to let this continue. He is not allowing this to be swept under the rug. Nana Shimura is not here to help him, having gone to Indonesia to work with Justice's child. No, this is to be settled between him and the sorry excuse of a pro.

Once school let out, Shouta makes his way to the Nighteye Agency and he is not going to let anyone hold him back. The underground hero bursts through the front door with anger raging similar to Hell's fire ready to burn sinners. He glares at the receptionist, forcing himself to take a deep breath and request an audience with the hero. It takes a couple of minutes arguing with her to allow him clear access, which did nothing to quell his raging fury.

The inside of the man's office is cursed with so much All Might memorabilia, he doubts that Midoriya has. It's enough to make his stomach roll with revulsion. All Might was—is—the kid's hero and it probably doesn't help him seeing as another fan (and former sidekick) of said hero is harming him.

"Eraserhead, what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?" The green-haired man motions to the stacks of files. "Can you not see that I am busy?"

"I'm here to talk about Midoriya."

The emotions that cross his eyes do not settle well with the teacher, who is seriously considering murder and offering his body to the Puzzler.

"What of the boy is there to talk about?"

"What do you think?" he hisses, eyes flashing angrily with his quirk. "I've heard what you've been doing with my student and I am not happy. I am pulling him from your care and barring you from taking any future students this upcoming work studies. Nedzu has already agreed to this and you best count yourself fortunate that he doesn't make it public."

Sir Nighteye blankly stares at him, sighing as he closes the file and placing his interlocked hands on top of it. "Eraserhead, you come barging into my office and taking my intern, yet you do not say a word as to why that is. You accuse me of doing something to the boy, what did he say it was?" A faint smile crosses his face. "Did he even say anything or are you going off on what you believe?"

Oh, so this is how it's going to be. "Midoriya Izuku suffered from an injury earlier today during training. Recovery Girl gave a detailed report as to what was wrong with the boy. Shinsou Hitoshi came to me and revealed what Midoriya had trusted enough to disclose to him that lines up with Recovery Girl's diagnosis."

Aizawa Shouta might not be the best teacher, but he does care about his students' well-beings. He places the report down—well, "places" may not be the correct word as he is anything but gentle.

Fatigue.

Overworked muscles.

Physical exhaustion.

"And how do I contribute to any of this? I hear that you're a harsh teacher, not to mention U.A is known for its harsh training, pushing their students to work themselves." Yellow eyes pierce his unwavering dark gaze. "Must I remind you of what he did during the Sports Festival."

"You're mad because All Might chose him as a successor instead of Mirio." He leans forward, not once averting his gaze. He makes sure to keep his voice steady and not act rash. "You're mad because Midoriya has One For All when the kid you had been grooming didn't get chosen. So you target Midoriya, constantly comparing him to your perfect kid. You harm him with your words and do your best to tear the boy down when he has been doing his damn best to help on the serial killer case." A sharp smile pulls his lips, the air growing colder. "You wish to repeat a mistake and cause another killer to go on the loose? We both know that the Puzzler is after you for revenge Sir Nighteye. What? Did you constantly go around tormenting others?"

He's met with simmering silence, ready to burn the world if it means to shut the underground hero up. He doesn't care. He cares about the harm that this man—this so called hero did to his intern, to his student. How dare this man believe himself to be superior that he thinks he can abuse his authority? How dare this man hurt a kid out of pettiness?

Seeing that he won't be getting any answers, he decides to leave with a few parting words to drive it home, "For a hero bent on bringing smiles to the people, you have failed."

Shouta breathes deep and makes his way out of the agency, a scowl marring his face. Dialing Tsukauchi's number, he waits for the man's voice to cut through. It takes several rings for him to answer, giving him enough time to find the nearest cat cafe. "Detective," he starts.

Also, no, I am not going to be nice to Nighteye.

Thank you my lovely readers for staying with this story. For those interested, I will posting a Bleach one-shot sometime later today. (depending on the reception of that one, I may add another chapter to it.)

Yes, I am still writing a Bleach fic with a main, aro-ace OC, so no romance in it. I plan to post it once I have 10 chapters finished.

Questions?

Comments.