AN: Hey! Another fic! This one went way off track from how I originally planned it going, but hey, we learn to go with the flow. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy this new adventure! I should start posting on AO3 as soon as I get my email, so I'll link my account with an author's note as soon as I get it set up. Saint's and Sins is not abandoned, I've been working on that one too, but I had to do a lot of research for chapter nine. It's coming, don't worry! I'll shut up now. Enjoy!

!TW!: Blood, violence, anxiety/panic attacks, mentions of suicide, references to drugs.

"Poverty is not just a lack of money; it is not having the capability to realize one's full potential as a human being." ~ Amartya Sen

Light flickered through the beaten plastic blinds, forcing him to slowly open his sleep-laden emerald eyes. He rolled over, realizing that his poor excuse for a blanket was bundled up at his feet. He lazily studied the room with furrowed brows, the bare box spring mattress beneath him causing him his usual discomfort. The room was barren, flakes of white drywall covering the dusty wooden floor. Blank white walls sagged under the weight of the damp and probably rotting roof, patches of black mold sitting repulsively in the corners of the room. The window was the only source of light, the other having been mercilessly torn from the ceiling, repossessed in exchange for money that was probably dampened with a mother's tears, before being handed painfully over to a cold, dead, and heartless old man, who cared about nothing more than receiving his rent every month.

The sun beat down on his handsome brown freckles, seemingly splattered across his face at birth, and his short, but rather messy, sacramento green hair. It sat on his head in large disheveled tufts, which was a pain in the ass to tame without a comb. A wall clock sat on the floor against the wall next to the mattress reading '8:14'. He clumsily stood up, wincing as his pale bare feet touched the floor. Great, another splinter. He groggily crossed the small room to the doorway, which was missing a door, also mercilessly ripped from its place. He looked out his hell-hole of a bedroom to the rest of the house, which looked disturbingly similar. He released a depressed sigh as he noticed yet another rat scurrying across the floor in the living room.

Home, shit home.

He walked over to the living room, ignoring the rat completely. Now there lived three rats in this trashy excuse for a home. The only furniture remaining was a single broken beige loveseat and a wooden coffee table fraying on the legs. The kitchen was almost empty, except for a single mini-fridge and a small cooker for campouts. He almost felt pity for himself, but he couldn't help that this was what he considered home. His mother worked her damndest to make sure they had a place to sleep, and he worked enough to pay for a couple of dinners each week, but with bills, rent, and other expenses, they couldn't afford much else.

Living in the dingy slums of Tokyo was hell enough on its own, not to mention the danger of standing on his porch for too long. Even looking at someone the wrong way was enough to get shot, which he'd had his fair share of close calls on. No friendly neighbors here; just a bunch of higher-than-heaven druggies and ex-prison convicts making do with what the government failed to give them. His mother, however, was just a poor middle-aged woman working two jobs just to provide for herself and her son. Ever since his father had walked out, they'd either be going hungry to pay the bills or skipping bills to satisfy their stomachs. There was no in-between. He got sick a lot, more than a normal teenager would.

Normal. That word is used a lot for a world where nobody is normal. Each human being wielded a power called a quirk, which could be trained to become more powerful. If a person has enough training, they can become a pro-hero, something he'd given up on a long time ago. Childish dreams were nothing he could allow himself to dwell on. He had no quirk. Nothing that made him as special as everyone else. Even his mother had a quirk, just not him. He got a lot of shit from people for that reason.

He was smart but unmotivated. Innovative, but limited. Limited was an understatement. He always had to skip out on projects that required him to purchase materials, and always took those 'Fs' without doing anything to change them. He had to focus more on staying alive (like that was something worth doing at this point). He'd seriously considered looking one of those druggies in the eyes and telling them to shoot him, but the thought of his mother not being able to afford even his cremation and leaving her to grieve on her own had stopped him in his tracks on multiple occasions, though he'd still wish for some sort of break amidst constant stress of living paycheck to paycheck. Life is bullshit.

He walked past the living room down a small hallway to a room (if it could even be called that) where his mother slept on a bare box spring mattress similar to his. Contrary to him, she had no blanket, which pained him a little to see. He stood in the doorway, gazing dejectedly at her. He admired her long hair, which was the same dark green as his own. Her pale face was much cleaner and only bore a couple of freckles. She wore the same dirty red hoodie as always, with the same black sweatpants. She was thin, frail, and weak. She looked as though she'd wither away to nothing if he looked at her the wrong way. How she managed to work two jobs in such a state was a mystery to him. He walked over to her and crouched down, gently nudging her shoulder.

"C'mon, Mom. It's time to get up." She shifted in her bed before slowly opening her tired green eyes. She smiled up at him, her smile weak, but beautiful nonetheless. He smiled faintly back at her and pressed a kiss on her forehead before standing up and turning to leave.

"Happy birthday, Izuku," she chirped quietly. She released a heavy sigh as he turned around, startled. "Look at you, all grown up," she was sitting up on the mattress, wiping the tired from her eyes. "It's like just yesterday you were a little boy, and now look at you. Seventeen. It's hard to believe." Izuku let out a small laugh.

"Heh, to be honest, I almost forgot. But thanks." His voice was raspy and hoarse. Puberty is great. He walked back over to her, holding out a hand for her to take. She grabbed his hand and he helped her up onto her feet. She gazed into his eyes with a rare glow, still smiling. Placing her hand on his cheek, she softly caressed his face with her thumb.

"I'm very proud of you. You matured a lot quicker than I initially thought you would," she seemed close to tears. "I really appreciate you helping me out. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course," he replied, releasing a small sigh. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, baby," a silent tear strolled down her face. "Oh! I almost forgot!" she lit up, spinning around and bending down to pick up a small purse-like bag between her mattress and the wall. She turned back around, rummaging through it for something. She pulled out two thousand yen and handed it to him. He looked down at his open palm, astonished. He hadn't seen so much money in one place. He frantically returned the money to her. She needed it more than he ever did. She simply closed his hand for him and gingerly pushed his hand back towards him.

"Keep it. I spent a long time saving that for you since you never save the money you earn for yourself."

"But… it's so much," he exclaimed breathlessly. "I- Thank you…"

"You're welcome, honey. Now, you go get yourself a little something for your birthday."

"I will." He beamed at his mother before making his way back to his room. Waiting for him next to his mattress was his old beaten red sneakers from his birthday two years prior. He sat down on his mattress and pulled the sneakers towards his feet. Two socks were stuffed inside one of the shoes. Taking the socks from the shoe, he pulled them over his feet and slipped on the shoes, tying them with a quickness. He stood back up, adjusting his light blue t-shirt and fixing his black shorts. He made his way out to the living room where his mother was already warming up some eggs on the coffee table with the small camping burner. He came up behind her and gave her a kiss goodbye on the forehead and headed for the front door.

"I'll be back in a bit!" He opened the door and walked out to the porch. The slums looked as busy as always. A small group of druggies stood in the shadows of a filthy alleyway across the street doing their totally legal dealings. A brick apartment complex, only two stories tall and five apartments across, sat looming over his less-than-humble abode; a large shed just barely passable for a house. The landlord lived in the much more welcoming home behind their shit-shed, with light blue siding and clay-colored arched shingles on the roof. The home was more greek inspired, which was rare, but not unheard of. The rest of the street was littered with similar apartment complexes and sheds being rented as homes.

Izuku breathed in a whiff of the summer air. The faint smell of gasoline was his favorite, strangely, mainly because of how rare it was for a person to not only know how to drive but also afford a car. This was the cause for most convenience stores going out of business in the area, some staying open due to the general population's reliance on them for food.

He took a moment to appreciate that his birthday had landed on a Sunday this year, so he had a break from both school and work today. He already had two places in mind that he intended to visit. Hastily, he stepped down the old rickety wooden porch and through the short lawn to the cracked and distorted sidewalk. He strolled along for a while, admiring the buildings and somewhat busy passerby until he stopped at a small stone structure along the sidewalk.

A small cobblestone path led up to it, where a stone pedestal sat in the middle. A small house-like structure with open window shutters carved on the sides of the opening surrounded the top of the pedestal. The small structure was surrounded by a larger stone structure with an angled Japanese-stylized roof carved. Inside the small pedestal was a small blue glass bowl. A white glass fox sat to the left of the bowl, a small bell to its right, and some red cloth hung from the top of the tiny bowl's home. He stood in front of the pedestal and took out a five yen coin from his pocket, placing it in the bowl. He gently rang the tiny gold bell, becoming a bit self-conscious of any glances aimed his way.

Jeez, I haven't done this in a while…

He took a small step back and put his hands together in front of him, bowing twice, and standing back up straight, his eyes shut. Then, he quietly clapped his hands together twice. That's when he began to pray.

To whatever god is listening, please, just, help my mom out a bit. She could use a break. Please help her to stay healthy, and grant her some form of protection.

He bowed once more and opened his eyes again. The last time he'd prayed at a Shinto shrine was months ago when he could spare five yen to offer to the gods. He only ever prayed when he was sure the extra yen offered wouldn't cause problems later on. He turned back around, placing his hands in his pockets and staring dejectedly at the ground as he continued down the sidewalk with a sigh. As unfortunate as he was, his faith in such gods was dwindling. Could his situation be helped? He highly doubted it.

Eventually, he had made it to a thrift store in the small shopping district. It had a few signs in a display window declaring a sale of some sort. He walked in, looking around for clothes that looked halfway decent. The shirts were divided by gender and style, each section containing shirts hung on a single circular hanging rack. He found a section of long-sleeved shirts and started sifting through them one by one.

Eventually, he found a burnt orange t-shirt that had black and white striped long sleeves attached to the shorter sleeves. He took it off the rack and held it up to his chest, estimating whether it would fit him. Deciding that he probably wouldn't fit in any of the other shirts, he took it. He draped the shirt over his arm and began to look through the rack of women's shirts. Soon, he found a decent shirt for her, with partially long sleeves. He still had a good eight hundred yen left. He walked over to a cream-colored shelf where all the pants were displayed. There were many different colors, but eventually, he picked a dark green pair with open pant legs at the bottom.

He picked a pair of skinny jeans in his mother's size and made his way to the counter. The lady behind the counter was around his age. She had short brunette hair with small bangs and hazel eyes. Her skin was pale, so he reckoned that she rarely went outside. He placed the clothes on the counter and she frantically began to ring them up. She was focused almost to the point of breaking a sweat.

Impressive. At least she's motivated.

"That'll be one thousand six hundred ninety-five yen, please," she looked up at him. Izuku pulled the money out of his back pocket and handed it to her, watching as she placed it in the cash register and returned his change. "Um, you don't happen to be from around here, are you?" Izuku kept his gaze on his bags as he gathered them.

"No, I moved here with my mom a couple of years ago, but I've seen you around here before."

"That's right," she smiled faintly. "I've been here since I was born. Now I'm just trying to make ends meet for my family."

"Heh, same here," Izuku replied downheartedly. Finally. Someone he could relate to. "I'm Izuku, what's your name?" he held out his hand.

"I'm Ochako Uraraka. Nice to meet you," she took his hand and gave it a shake. "I have to get back to work, but why don't we hang out sometime?" A prickly sensation shot like waves through his hand. He suppressed the urge to shudder. How pathetic was it, being scared by a simple handshake?

"Sure. I guess I'll see you later, then." He smiled at her before leaving the store. Strange. Nobody had ever voluntarily conversed with him before now. It felt almost alien to him, interacting with someone more than just 'hi, how can I help you?', and 'have a nice day!'. Conversations with anyone other than his mother seemed so fake. Either way, he didn't feel comfortable speaking with strangers outside of work.

Izuku checked his pockets. He had three hundred yen left and he wasn't going to waste it. He took to the sidewalk and made his way to the clothing bank. It was rather empty for being a free place for clothes. He walked about before coming to an area for shoes. Three shelves, one atop the other, were packed with shoes. He looked through them for a pair in his size, but couldn't find any. It was after his third time skimming through the shoe sizes that he had found a single pair of shoes that fit him. They were red and had white tips and a white circle on the sides of them. They were rather stylish and seemed to be unisex. He took them off the shelf with a shrug and picked out a pair of comfortable tennis shoes for his mother. He brought the shoes to the front desk, had them rung up, and departed.

He had one last stop on his list, but it all depended on whether there was a line or not. Izuku picked up his pace as he made his way down the crumbling sidewalk once more, stepping on weeds and trash now and then. Why can't people just throw something away? Eventually, the stench of the slums began to fade away as the impoverished and trashy buildings became taller, cleaner, and more sleek buildings. He stopped at a much smoother section of sidewalk where the city had engulfed what was once a crumbling society of missed opportunities. He took a deep breath.

Finally, some fresh air.

He had no time to waste, it was nearly noon, and the foot traffic was starting to grow heavier. He made his way down a street, businessmen in fancy clothes and mothers with children giving him glances of concern at his tattered and worn t-shirt until he came to the same familiar corner that he'd known all too well. The smell of freshly cooked noodles filled his nose and he felt his lips tingle with hunger. As he turned the corner, there stood a ramen stand, unusually empty, but still open. He stood in front of the serving table and inhaled the sweet smell once more. Sometimes, it took him back to a time before money was ever a constant in his life. Before he worried about what he was going to eat tomorrow. Before he had any idea what happened in the background while he sat in eager silence practically inhaling his noodles as his mother sat next to him giggling. How he missed those days.

The man behind the counter wore a white chef's outfit and clear rubber gloves, with a short white sushi hat, a small red half-sun with short rays bearing the front of the hat. He was standing at a fryer, watching as the grease bubbled and spat at him. He seemed tired, which wasn't unusual for people these days. He turned to face Izuku, a small glint of surprise in his eyes.

"Hey, kiddo. What can I get for ya?" he leaned onto the counter with crossed arms, a raspy but comforting voice rising from his throat.

"I'll have two bowls of tonkotsu ramen to-go, please." He briefly held up two fingers, beaming. The man gave him a subtle chuckle.

"Coming right up." Izuku watched patiently as the man took a ladle from the fryer and grabbed two paper noodle cups that were set off to the side. He opened the cups and spooned a few scoops of noodles into each cup. Then, he pulled out a piece of pork from a drawer that seemed to be a steamer to keep food warm and set the pork on a cutting board to the left of the fryer. He took a knife from a knife block to the right of the fryer and began to dice the pork into tiny bits. He picked up the cutting board and used the knife to scrape the pork into the two bowls. Then, he removed a tray from underneath the steamer and poured the broth from it into the bowls as well. Adding the finishing touches, he scooped some peas and carrots from a pot of steaming vegetables and sprinkled them into the cups. As he finished, he closed the lids, grabbed two sets of chopsticks from a cup on the counter, and placed everything in a bag.

"That'll be two hundred yen." Izuku quickly handed him the money and took the bag from the counter. "You have a good day, kid."

"You too!" he smiled. He turned and began making his way back home, opening the bag to take in the smell of piping fresh ramen, the scent almost heavenly in a way he couldn't put to words. He didn't eat fresh food often, but he was sure to savor every bite when he did. He decided to avoid the bustling sidewalks. He didn't feel like dropping his ramen all over the ground, and he definitely didn't feel like painting himself a psychiatric ward escapee as he scraped his ground-ramen back into the cups and tucked them away into the bag.

Not doing that again.

He decided to keep going past the ramen stand instead of rounding the corner again. There was a quicker way to get home from the city, where people didn't brush carelessly past your shoulder without a turn of phrase. People can be so rude sometimes. He didn't take it personally though. People had places to be, things to do, people to meet. He didn't need to worry about any of that though. He had his mother, and that was all he really needed to be happy.

He turned into an empty alleyway, where the brick sidewalk gave way to a compact cobblestone path. Building sides towered over the street, giving it a disheveled wall of sorts. A segway bridge loomed above between two buildings, a greasy pipe protruding from the bottom of one of the bridge's support walls. He kept his gaze on the ground with his free hand in his pocket, the other hanging at his side holding his two bags. He kicked a loose rock out of sheer boredom. It tumbled lifelessly away from him, finally falling over at the shadow of the bridge. He stopped and looked above him, admiring the bridge as a segway train passed overhead. With a sigh, he continued down the path under the bridge. He was lost in his thoughts like he usually was. What was his mother doing right now? Would she even last much longer in her state?

He was so lost in puzzling over his misfortunes that he nearly tuned out the sound of a manhole cover popping open. His head perked up in alert as he turned around, startled. Nothing. Nobody was there. The alley was no more empty than when he had entered it. The manhole cover lied on the ground, still reverberating the sound of it rotating around its edges. He shrugged and turned back around, releasing another sigh. However, his relief was short-lived. Towering over him was what seemed to be a giant gloppy blob of snot with an unsightly grin and glowering red eyes. He stenched of old sewage water and musty wet carpet.

"You'll be perfect," the glob mused maliciously. "Don't worry, it'll be over soon."

It happened within seconds. First, he was engulfed in discolored green slime, then, he was drowning, choking on the stuff. It slid around his arms, tracing up his legs and creeping over his stomach underneath his shirt. He tried to fight it, tried to escape, but he was clawing at the water in an ocean as if he weren't already adding insult to injury. He felt his blood run cold as the slime surrounded his hair, mushing it around and disheveling it more than it had been before. He felt the slime enter his mouth and airways as he held on to what little breath he had. His lungs began to burn as slime seeped into them. It slipped through his pores and boiled under his skin. Welts began to form across his body, the goo burning in his nostrils like chlorine from a swimming pool. As his vision began to fade and blur, his stomach began to sear with pain, his hearing became a constant ringing, and his head began to pound, he finally bit the bottle and gasped as he inhaled the slime. He coughed and hacked, until the pain began to fade, and he slowly lost grip of his consciousness.

Some say that death occurs so quickly and so suddenly that your brain doesn't get a chance to process it. Some say that you're conscious long enough to realize that you're dead, and you're given about twenty seconds to accept that fact. Some say that you see a light that leads you into the afterlife. But there was no light here. Darkness was all that slumbered here. It was subliminal darkness he'd not been aware of before now that stretched as far as the mind's eye could see.

Wait… Am I dead?

Did I just… Die?

No. I can't be dead.

What about Mom?

Oh, God…

Mom. No…

No, no, no, NO, NO!

I refuse to die like this!

"NO!" He yelled. Or at least, he tried to anyway. All that managed to come out was a gasp mixed in with a whimper. Tears were strolling down his cheeks as the searing pain all over his body returned in waves. Every nerve ending rippled with agony, his chest burning with the same sensation as before. Just as everything had been dark before, a white light consumed his sight. His head was in excruciating pain, so much so that he felt like it could implode at any given moment. It took him a second to realize that the pain was gone as soon as it had appeared. His breathing was heavy, almost to the point of wheezing, and his mind was running a million miles a minute. Soon, his vision had returned to normal, and he quickly realized he was back in the alleyway.

He was sitting on the ground, on his hands and knees, practically begging the air to save him. He eventually caught his breath, and his train of thought came to a screeching halt as he stood. Terrified, he checked his arms.

No welts. It's like that sludge villain never attacked…

He checked his chest, only to receive the same results.

How in the hell?

Just a second ago, he was drowning. Now, he was perfectly fine, to a point. Somehow, he remained unscathed. What happened? He eyed the manhole cover that sat only a few feet in front of him. No traces of slime had remained. The sludge villain was seemingly never there. He could just be an insane schizophrenic, but he wouldn't take that answer, however realistic of an explanation it would've been.

This is so fucked up…

He ran stressed fingers through his hair, seeking one last affirmation that he wasn't crazy. He wasn't. His hair was the same amount greasy as it was before he was attacked. How in the hell was he supposed to prove that he got attacked in the first place? Then he noticed the small stone on the ground that he had kicked away before. Only, it was in the place it had been before he kicked it.

What the hell is going on here?

He finally decided that he would worry about this later, collected himself, and started towards the bridge once more. No sooner than he took his third step did the manhole cover pop open once more and the same green slime leaked into the cracks and crevices of the path. For a second time, the green blob formed and loomed over him, the same haunting stare piercing his chest. Panicked, he darted around the sludge villain and made for the bridge, his bags still in hand.

"Where do you think you're going?" the villain grimaced. A tentacle of slime shot out of his main body, aimed straight for Izuku. It grabbed a hold of his ankle and lifted him into the air, hanging him upside down. He felt all the blood in his body begin rushing to his head. "Don't even think about fighting back!" the tentacle thrust him into the concrete wall of a building. His head hit the wall first, a sparkling sharp pain traveling from the back of his skull down his spine. Blood splattered onto the wall as he fell to the ground, his entire body landing on his left arm with an extremely audible snap. He hollered in pain as another slime arm wrapped itself around his now broken arm, lifted him into the air, and brought him closer to the villain's eyes.

"Well damn it all! Now you're too beat up to use!" He complained, observing the tiny person with disgust. "Ugh, whatever, I'll just find another person." He tossed the boy to the ground and disappeared back into the sewers, not bothering to place the cover back over the manhole. Izuku lied on the ground, unmoving. A heavy weight sat on his chest as he struggled to breathe. He blinked a couple of times to get some drops of blood out of his eyes. He used his good arm to roll himself onto his back with a grunt. At least this time he was still alive, just not necessarily unscathed.

He looked up at the clear blue sky, his weak eyelids growing heavier by the second. Maybe a little nap wouldn't hurt? Just until he had enough energy to walk home, he decided, would he try to move. His entire body ached even more than usual, his arm causing him a sudden wrenching pain each time it was moved or touched.

Just a quick nap… he breathed. He closed his eyes, praying that the ramen was still good for eating. He'd hate to see his money go to waste, and he'd especially hate seeing his mother going hungry. He tried to fight sleep, but to no avail, and the distant whisper of cars and people and wind slowly lulled him to sleep.

His eyes shot open, or at least, he thought they did. Everything was dark again. He looked around. Darkness was all that accompanied him in the supposed void. He couldn't even see his own hand in front of his face. He was lying on something, so he had to be somewhere. He slowly stood, making sure he had a steady footing before he did so. He was alone. His pain was gone. His head no longer hurt and his arm was no longer broken. He stood for a moment, searching his mind for something. Something he was seemingly forgetting, but remembered just enough to know it was missing.

That smile… Who is she? Then, it hit him. I need to see her! As if his mind had telepathically commanded it, the empty void of nothingness went off like a flash grenade, and a white light engulfed the darkness, just like before. Then, the light faded, and he once again found himself lying somewhere writhing in agony. As the pain quickly ebbed away, and his breathing calmed, he looked around. He was back on his mattress. The sun was beating down through the beaten blinds just as it had been that morning. His blanket was all too familiarly scrunched up at his feet, and the same mold spots covered the walls. He shot up and checked the clock next to his bed. It was 8:14 again.

Holy shit…

He hopped out of bed and made his way back down the halls, stopping at his mother's doorway once more. He released a sigh of relief as he saw her sleeping soundly on her mattress. He slowly walked up to her and crouched down, nudging her shoulder to wake her up.

"C'mon, Mom. time to wake up." She rolled over, releasing a yawn. He gave her a smile as she sat up, wiping her tired eyes.

"Good morning, Izuku," She greeted him with a warm smile. "And happy birthday."

This happened before.

"Heh, thanks."

"Oh, I have something for you!" she turned and reached over her bed, grabbing the same purse from before. She turned back to him, rummaging through it.

She's going to hand me two thousand yen.

She handed him two thousand yen.

"This is for you. I've been saving it for a while."

She's going to insist I take it, so there's no point in trying to hand it back.

"W-wow, I don't know what to say," he exclaimed quietly, acting surprised. "Thank you!"

"No problem dear. Now, you run along and get yourself a little something for your birthday."

"Right." He stood and made for the door, before turning around and facing her again. "Hey, um, it could just be me, but, you don't seem to be experiencing some form of deja vu, are you?" he asked nervously.

"Uhm, no. Why? Is everything okay, dear?" concern glinted in her eyes.

"Y-yeah, sorry. Something just feels off," he looked at the ground, his brows furrowed. "It's probably nothing-" liar "-anyways, I'll see you later." He waved goodbye as he exited the room.

"See you later honey! You enjoy yourself!"

Izuku made his way to the door with haste. Whatever was going on, so far only seemed to affect him. But how was he supposed to find out for sure if anyone else was experiencing this anomaly? Surely he couldn't be the only person jumping through loopholes and ending up back where he started. He made his way out the door once again, starting down the street.

I'll just repeat my actions, and avoid that sludge villain, he told himself, Then all of this will stop. Suddenly, he stopped, and turned back around, retracing his steps on the sidewalk. The Shinto Shrine was missing. He blinked a couple of times. Surely he was just seeing things, or, well- not seeing things. But just as it had disappeared, the shrine reappeared.

This isn't right. He looked down at his hands and had to fight the urge to vomit when he realized they weren't there. His wrists sat in front of him, flaking away like chipped paint. He seemed to be the only one aware of this, as the passerby turned a blind eye. He watched as his wrists slowly faded to dust, then, his arms. Panicked, he started for the Shinto Shrine. He ran up the steps and tried to dig around in his pocket. Somehow, he managed to grab a five yen coin, place it in the tiny bowl, and frantically begin to pray.

Please, whatever this is, just make it stop. He fell to his knees as his eyes began to burn with tears. This isn't funny. Just make it stop. Please just make it stop. Make it stop, make it stop, MAKE IT STOP. His body began to shake as he sat there on the ground crying.

He opened his eyes and looked back up at the Shinto Shrine. One of the corners slowly began to flake away in chips, leaving behind an empty blackness in its wake. He looked back to the sidewalk. All of this was seemingly invisible to them. They couldn't see a thing. He turned back around to see that an entire portion of the land had chipped away, and in its place was the same black void. Only this time, a swirl of magenta light floated in what seemed like a vortex, strong winds ruffling his hair. He stood as he observed the swirl, which centered into a single purple glowing orb. Fear prickled down his spine as his blood ran cold. Somewhere in that swirling chaos was his mother.

MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTO-