The world is always turning. The world is basked in darkness and in light every second of every minute of every day. The world has always been there—older than anything else. The stars being there with it but dying every few thousand years. The moon and Sun are probably the oldest—older than Earth itself. But that might be wrong after all the cosmos has to be the oldest without it, nothing could exist. These things have been around and have been witness to the wrongness of humanity, all the suffering and pain, and death. They have been witnesses to the sins that continued being committed by frail, weak beings that have no place in this world. They have been the victims of the humans' rule and their ghastly ways.

The third Champion is still unknown and no matter how much they look for the other child, the two seem to keep hitting a dead end. If the child doesn't show themselves soon, then everything can go to hell. Shinsou will probably go on a killing spree just to find the one person in U.A. that is needed more than anything and they are too fucking lazy to show themselves! When Shinsou had said that out loud, it took both Todoroki and Midoriya to keep him from leaving the room. It took them both another twenty minutes to calm him down. "They may not even know who we are yet or haven't found the time to," the child of Death reasoned, smiling softly as he hoped that the other wouldn't punch him. Thankfully he didn't.

Now, onto another problem.

Izuku is not looking forward to the exams.

It's not because of being nervous or not having a lot of faith in himself. It's just that everyone—even Shinsou—has a super move. He—the child of the Grim Reaper—does not. What can he even use as a super move anyway? He hasn't a clue and he's running out of time. Aizawa-sensei and Shinsou have been giving him pointers on what he can try and do but nothing has happened—no plan, nothing. This is terrible, a strategist and analyst such as himself couldn't come up with a plan. He has the dreaded thing ever known to man: idea's block. It's similar to author's or artist's block or whatever's block. He can't come up with anything and look where that was getting him. His mind has been clogged with the investigations and the online school to get his P.I. license. No idea has come to mind. It can be due to the stress of everything that is around him. That may be what is wrong.

It isn't until the incident during training, which helped break it.

They have been in the building, on cement pillars with Ectoplasm's clones. Today—thank Fortune—Nedzu has something more important to do than be helping out with Class 1-A. "Fuck my life," he says, twirling his scythe in his hand. Boredom and frustration overtake his mind as he tries to figure out what to do for his super move. He goes through different fights with Ectoplasm's clone, using his scythe and quirk. A spar could be of some use after all.

CRACK!

The sound of rock breaking and crumbling rings throughout the air, bringing forth a silence. It's a sharp sound that catches everyone's attention, turning to look but not able to react in time. Midoriya—despite having been sparring—powers up One For All, shooting off and grabbing Ectoplasm out of the way. The piece of rock drops to the ground, pavement cracking slightly under the force and weight of the projectile. The young green-haired teenager pants softly as he placed his teacher down on his feet, giving him a meek smile. "Are you okay, Sensei? I hope I didn't hurt you when I grabbed you."

After a moment of shocked silence, a jaunty laugh responds to his question. The situation and the boy's words process through. His teacher pats him on the shoulder with a smile stretched behind his mask despite the boy not being able to see it. "I'm alright. Thank you, Midoriya."

Midoriya offers his teacher a different smile than before. In return, it's happy smile with a tinge of distractedness, his gaze focused on the sight of the fallen shard of cement which had broken off due to Bakugou's move. An idea slowly manifests in his mind. He hums and returns back to his position. Cementoss is the one to take care of the cement block, having it molded into the floor. However, once everything in his mind is set up, he fights with Ectoplasm's clone in an attempt to bring it to life. They have just three more lessons until the exam left and he is done wasting them. He will have to be done by tomorrow so that he can practice more.

He summons his scythe and aims a faux hit to the clone's leg, watching it as it evades it. The young One For All user takes that as his chance to connect the roundhouse kick to the clone's side. He'll have to figure out the basis for it. He goes on for the rest of the lesson without the usage of his scythe as he deals with doing several kicks, slowly forming a plan and a move he can use.

Kaminari watches in awe as the green-haired male works with coming up with the move faster than most would've been able to in such a short period of time. Each failed time pushes him to work on it harder to get it right. He notices that he uses and reuses some movements from previous attempts at getting it right and can't help but admire the other's skill and tenacity. The electricity quirk user knows that the other would have it down by midnight if his and his classmates' experience with Midoriya's determination is anything to go by.

Soon enough, he stops watching. His mind has come up with a good idea. "Hey, Kirishima." He turns to the red-haired male, a grin playing on his face. He decides to avert his attention elsewhere. "I'm gonna beat you in Mario Kart later tonight."

He bright smile is his facial response, but the blond can see the determined gleam in his eyes. "You're on." The blond feels like everyone in the class is starting to get too stressed out and need an outlet, one that involves Mario Kart, cake, and a ton of caffeine that would make even "I will shoot caffeine up my veins" Shinsou reconsider. It is going to be glorious night while the morning will be the worst. Although, it wouldn't be the first time they've all woken up from a night like the one he's planning and it won't be the last.

Of course, they will end up letting anyone join as long as they want. It'll be a treat for them for coming so far in just their first year of high school. They're planning on inviting everyone who wants to join in, hoping for another bonding experience. But this one, this one he's planning on no scary stories. He had nightmares for a week straight—all mixing the stories together and then the whole events with the training camp, let's say that he hasn't slept well for quite a while.

Denki hums, drumming his fingers on his thigh. His mind on the plans they have for that night. A night to relax and bond with each other without the hassle of schoolwork. Jokes and funny stories with the dash of kicking butt and junk food.

Sir Nighteye is going insane. The constant puzzles, the constant threats to him, it is all getting to be so much. The stress is finally setting into his bones. The hero rests his head in his hands, trying to come up with a better profile. He throws the papers onto the floor, a scream coming from his throat as he clears the desk off. His chest heaved harshly, breaths coming in short pants as he stares at the mess he made. His blood boils, he's glaring at everything and anything, he ignores the concerned knock at the door. "I'm fine! Leave me be!"

He listens to them walk away, sighing as he slumps back into his seat. Words—incoherent words spill past his lip, hands reaching up and grabbing tufts of hair and pulling at them. The mess he made, it's making things worse. It's not right. It doesn't look right. The mess doesn't look right! That's not how it should be! It should be clean and organize! Why is it not clean and organized?

Sir Nighteye calms down. He reasons with himself. He made the mess, had made it not look right. It's not clean because of him. It's okay. It's fine. Everything is fine. It's pitiful that he isn't poised. Pathetic that he has fallen so far. The killer is messing with him in an attempt to throw him off. If this continues to happen, he knows that he won't be able to see this case through. He'll have to keep his head with this. Don't lose it.

Sir Nighteye reviews the message from the killer. His anger boiling once again at the words. An email which has been sent to him via a victim's account just after they had died. No fingerprints, nothing have been found.

"It's all in good fun," he sang to the grim reaper.
A sinister smile adorned his bloody face.
His mind was gone.
His last words, his grace:
"It's all in good fun."

Sicko. Killing people? That's all in good fun? How can the world be full of these demons who parade around like humans? Is it so easy to take another's life and continue as if nothing happened? Do they ever get eaten alive by the remorse of the deed or do they feel nothing towards it? What gain is there to kill—to slaughter another? What gain is there to ruin the lives of those around—to keep them from living happily? How does it feel to be the one to break the trust of those around the victim? Is there satisfaction to watch as the victim comes to as top in trusting the world?

What is the goal of those people?

"To be, or not to be, that is the question" the famous line from a Shakespearean play known as Hamlet. Has anyone other than who perform and watch the play know what comes next after that line? Do they know of what Hamlet is talking about in that speech? Do the people know he speaks and questions about death? Do they know that he asks those who hear this speech if it's noble to continue living despite all of the suffering one has to endure? Or if it is better to take the troubles and stop them by dying? Do they know how he hates that in God's eyes it is a sin to commit suicide? That "to die—to sleep" is how he wishes to end the troubles of his mind?

Do those who have murdered not live with the fact of what they have done so they embrace the cold arms of death? That the troubles of their mind would want their end to finally come? Is this what the killer is saying? That he sang to the Grim Reaper, that those would be his last words that he would be famous for? That he wishes to die once he's caught? Or is there more to it? Is there something that he gains from all of these horrible deeds he has committed? Is this what the killer wants?

There has to be more.

The message is incomplete.

Quickly, the hero gets out of his seat. The man shuffles through the case files. He brings up the photographs, laying them out on the floor to get a better look at the pictures of the victim, seeing the words that have been etched into their skin: "It's all in good fun." How sick is the guy to have mutilated the skin like this?

The words. The way they have been placed. The way they have been written. Why?

Why do they sound so familiar?

They may sound familiar to you, Nighteye, for a reason.

Anyway, I am not as happy with the beginning of this chapter but the second part is what I am happy about. The poem used is called "It's all in Good Fun." One of my original works. I will be posting the full version on Tumblr if y'all don't have Wattpad or not in the discord server.

Tumblr: melancholic-lotus13

Wattpad: Melancholic-Lotus13

Discord name: Melancholic_lotus13#2463

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