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Fumikage could hear them arguing.

It was the fourth night this week they'd argued. His mother screamed at his father in a voice he could barely understand while his father screamed back just as loud, just as angrily. Something crashed, something slammed, and then, finally, there was a gut-wrenching silence.

The seven-year-old curled tighter into his bed and threw the thick, All Might themed blanket over his head, hoping the covers would somehow block out the noise of his family falling apart.

The space under his blanket was dark, though far from pitch black. Fumikage's room was sparsely decorated. There were a few posters of All Might, practically a staple for any child in Japan at this point, as well as some shelves holding a few old, worn looking toys.

Most notably, however, were the four, bright nightlights dotted around the room.

He naively held the belief that the demons didn't like the nightlights. They didn't like light at all. Dark Shadow was weaker in the day, so it made sense to his mind to keep as many lights on as he could.

The child hugged his legs tightly and buried his beak into his chest as best he could. A second later he put his hands over the sides of his head, hoping to block the world out.

Suddenly, there was another slam that echoed through the apartment, and he knew that both his parents had now left. He was used to this, being on his own. He knew how to cook his own food, pack his own lunches for school and prepare himself for each day. He'd had to learn, and he'd learned quickly.

Fumikage gulped and tried desperately to stop the tears from falling down his face.

Then he felt it.

The coldness of his quirk uncurling through his body, starting from his heart and pushing their way out through the skin on his back. The air around him took on a chill and the shadows of his childish hiding place seemed to grow ever darker.

"It's your fault, you know," Dark Shadow whispered softly into his ear, more serpent-like than the avian form they took, "They argue because of you."

"Sh-shut up." Fumikage stammered, refusing to open his eyes even when he could feel the dark, mocking gaze of his quirk-familiar upon him. "N-no it's not." Though he didn't believe his own words.

He sniffled again and tried to keep his fragile emotions under control.

It was, after all, his emotions that had caused all of this.

It was always his fault. Always. Because of the thing that lived inside him, because of what he had allowed them to do when he had become angry over a stupid toy of all things. The first time it'd happened, when he had hurt that poor girl, he hadn't spoken for a week afterward.

Within the year of Dark Shadow's awakening, there had been two other incidents. Both times Fumikage had shut down for almost a month, wordlessly moving through his days, cowering at every sound and refusing to allow Dark Shadow out of his body.

"It's true." The monstrous creature urged like the sliding of a blade along his throat. "Because of what you are, because of who you are to become."

Fumikage didn't reply. He simply tried to bury himself further into his covers, curling them around himself as tightly as his little form would allow. He was so thin, having shed weight in pounds since his curse appeared. His feathers wilted on his head and he constantly felt weak and drained and exhausted.

And he hated himself so, so much.

"My Fumikage. My Seventh Son," Dark Shadow moved through the covers like a serpent through grass, "Cursed by fate, the cost of an ancestor's greed. Do you know how long I fought for your soul to be mine? The things I've done to claim you as my own?"

"S-Shut up!" The boy stammered under his covers, his eyes squeezing tight as the tears continued to fall. "It's not true! It's not true!"

"It is true, my little slave," He could feel their shadow-claws moving through his feathers, almost lovingly, "And you know it to be the truth. You've seen it for your own eyes."

Fumikage's eyes creaked open, crimson and flooded with tears. Dark Shadow was at his shoulder, no bigger than a pet corn snake, but with eyes of burning, tempting gold and an avian head that mirrored his own.

Their long, lipless grin was like that of a wolf tempting a lamb to the slaughter.

"You are cursed, Fumikage. Your mother hates you, your father hates himself because you are his son. But I," They cocked their head just a little at the child, "I will never leave you. I, your familiar, your guide, your master."

Fumikage refused to reply. His fingers squeezed tight the blanket he had wrapped around himself in defense against the demon in his heart.

"Your soul is already promised to infernal pit, so why resist it?" They cocked their head the other side now, curiously birdlike in their action, "With my power at your command, you will cause such great evil upon this world."

"No," Fumikage hissed through his blankets, his eyes hardened even behind his tears, "I-I'm not evil. I'm not a villain," As he spoke, he seemed to gather his determination, child-like and small as it was, "I-I-" He swallowed, "One day I'm going to be a hero! I'm not gonna let you win! And I-I'm gonna banish all the demons back- back to Hell so no one will ever be hurt again!"

The shadow-beast only chuckled, the sound practically echoing around the blanket-space. "We'll see, Seventh Son, we'll see."


Fumikage curled up on the bathroom seat, the walls of the toilet cubical high and tight around him.

And he sobbed.

He sobbed openly as he gripped the sides of his head, black feathers running through his fingers.

He'd hurt another person. After years, years, of keeping his monster under tight control, after mastering his emotions and learning to command Dark Shadow through will alone, it had happened again.

Another person had been hurt, and it had been because of him. Because of what existed inside him, because of the fate he knew he was bound to no matter what he tried to do to avoid it.

Another person had been hurt.

And it was all his fault.

The boy's locker room toilet was quiet and cold, the rest of the sunny, noisy stadium utterly shut out. The walls were tiled blue and striped with the school colors, the floor white and pristine. There was a slight scent of bleach and other cleaning fluids to the air. The perfect place for someone to hide from the rest of the world.

Tears fell salt rich and thick down his feathers and his teeth grit hard in his beak. His breaths came in chest-aching shudders, and each one felt as though it was being forced in and out of his lungs. He tried to curl up tighter on the bathroom seat, but it seemed no matter how small he tried to make himself it would never be enough. He couldn't curl himself inwards and vanish from the world, no matter how much he wished he could.

He had fled the field the moment Cementoss had arrived. The full weight of his actions crashing down onto him as the rush of battle, the adrenaline and power that coursed through him whenever he used Dark Shadow in combat, had faded.

And the world, heavy and terrible, had come booming back through his mind.

He could still hear the screams of Neito through his ears. He doubted he would ever forget them. They were so like his own after all, when he had been only four years old. It had been midnight, on the day of his birthday that Dark Shadow had arrived.

His room had been torn to shreds by the thrashing of the demon as they had claimed his soul.

He was never quite sure how he had managed to survive their possession, though Dark Shadow had told him they had let him live simply to use him.

Things had been on a downhill ever since.

He could feel his demon even now, moving within him like a cold shadow moves across a wall. A darkness within his soul, always so cold, always so cruel.

They wanted to emerge, to talk. He couldn't hear their voice within his mind, as Izuku claimed he could with his own monster, but he could still feel their emotions. Their subtle, cunning tugs at his soul. Let me talk, they seemed to whisper in the very depths of his mind, we can explain.

No.

He needed to regain his balance, to repeat the well-worn mantas of spiritual and mental control that he had learned sitting beside his grandfather in the temple's inner sanctums. However, his emotions were spiking through his heart and no matter what he did he couldn't seem to gather his thoughts or calm his breath.

He was lost to his own panic, his own fears.

Fumikage's grip grew stronger, tighter on his own skull, threatening to pull his own feathers out.

The door to the bathroom burst open suddenly, and the teen jumped on his seat.

"Fumikage?"

It was Izuku.

And Fumikage did not want to talk to him. He didn't want pity, even from one who knew more than any other the pain he had gone through all his life. He didn't want company, or help, or anyone else. He wanted to be alone, to push all others away so they wouldn't be hurt.

Because at the end of the day, that's all he could really do to help others. Just push them away and keep pushing until he was alone. To feel nothing and hold no one close.

He stopped all noise, barely even breathing, and froze on his seat. Maybe if he was quiet enough, Izuku would simply go away. And yet, he also loosened the tight grip on his feathers, letting them go in favor of curling both hands together and holding them to his forehead as if praying for his friend to leave.

It had been such a stupid mistake to make friends, to think he had a shot at being normal with his mix of abnormal companions.

Stupid, stupid, Fumikage. His destiny was shadow. His destiny was Hell and damnation. It was not friendship. He was here to learn absolute control, to make Dark Shadow a weapon he could use to fight the darkness until the darkness finally claimed him.

He was not at U.A. to make friends.

And yet the boy, by some sixth sense Fumikage was sure belonged more to his demonic side than his human self, moved further into the bathroom.

"Fumikage? Are you here?"

He said nothing, and there was a long pause.

"I know you're here, Nemesis can sense you."

The statement may have been creepy coming from anyone else, but from him, it seemed bizarrely natural. The boy had an air of darkness that he was all too aware of. Not that Fumikage didn't have his own air of darkness. Maybe it was a soul-scarred thing.

A few more footsteps followed until he stopped suddenly in front of the Fumikage's stall. The boy paused for a moment before sighing and simply stating, "It wasn't your fault."

Fumikage's sorrow quickly turned into hot, tight anger that caused his still tear-wet crimson eyes to glare at the door of the stall. Still, he said nothing.

"And I know at this point, that probably sounds pretty hollow, but it's true. Fumikage, what happened wasn't your fault. If anything, it was mine."

He knew this was coming too. Izuku piling the world's sorrow on his own shoulders, as if he alone deserved to act as humanity's wastebasket.

Fumikage's beak opened, but he made no sound and quickly shut it again. Going into a mode of silence was another way of coping. His grandfather would argue otherwise, of course, telling him to speak his feelings openly and that any form of closing himself off was bad, but his grandfather wasn't there.

And his parents… well, he no longer gave a fuck what they thought, and hadn't done so for years.

"I should have defended the flag better, I should have warned you somehow, I should have thought about your feelings and- I- I wish I could go back and change everything that happened." There was a slumping sound, and Fumikage spied Izuku's lower half under the door, his tail curling up into the boy's lap. It seemed he had decided to sit by the stall. "Shut up," He suddenly hissed in a low tone before his voice picked up again, "You did amazing out there, you really did. I let you down. I let everyone down. I'm sorry."

Again, Fumikage went to open his beak, to tell him to piss off and shut up and stop piling other people's problems on his shoulders. But again, the words seized in his throat. Dark Shadow pushed something dark and cruel through his thoughts, a feeling of walking out there and strangling him, but he ignored it.

Though he did breathe out a sigh, one loud enough to let Izuku know that, yes, he was actually there, and he adjusted on his seat, wiped his eyes clean, and wrapped his arms tightly around his knees.

Izuku seemed to shift for a moment before sniffing and making a movement like he was wiping his own eyes on his sleeve. "I know how you feel, I do, but you should know no one was seriously hurt. Midnight put Neito to sleep and-"

There was another sudden bang of the bathroom door opening and both boys seemed to jump.

"Goddamnit- I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Fumikage blinked. It was Hitoshi.

Hitoshi was… a strange case, at least in Fumikage's mind. The boy had faced down one of the most terrifying Hell-beasts he had ever seen, three times in fact, and yet according to Dark Shadow his soul was unharmed. Well, not unharmed, it had certainly changed via contact with the monster, but rather than become blemished, it had grown… tougher, if that was the correct term. Dark Shadow hadn't quite managed to find the right word for it.

Nevertheless, Hitoshi's outright bravery and constant displays of courage in the face of demons was nothing short of astonishing.

There were a few sudden steps, and Izuku clambered back to his feet.

Another pause.

"Fumikage? Dude, are you okay?"

"He's not talking," Izuku answered in a soft tone.

"That's fine, we can talk at him," Hitoshi added swiftly, "You know that had nothing to do with you, right? I mean, that wasn't your fault."

"I already told him, it's all my- Ow!"

By the sounds of it, Hitoshi had punched Izuku right in the arm and Fumikage couldn't help a tiny, tiny smile cross his beak.

"Shut up, that had nothing to with you either, moron! You did all you could to avoid it! Damn it, what is it with you guys blaming yourself for other people's stupidity?"

There was a sudden, weird silence that settled on the bathroom. Fumikage wasn't quite buying everything Hitoshi was saying, he did blame himself as it was him who had jumped right into Neito and, with Dark Shadow's help, had thrown him as far as he could.

"I saw the whole thing," Hitoshi continued suddenly his voice surprisingly firm yet not cruel or harsh, "And if what you said was true, that Neito can copy quirks, then it's his stupid fault for trying to copy Nemesis in the first place, which I might remind you he didn't do because you managed to avoid him. And as for what happened with Dark Shadow, there was no way you," And Fumikage had the distinct impression that Hitoshi was glaring at him through the cubical door, "Could have known! So, stop beating yourselves up because, as far as I'm concerned, we all got off pretty fucking lightly!"

There was another pause from beyond the door.

"He's fine, you know. The teachers are taking the credit but, erm, yeah. I stopped him."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously," Hitoshi's voice took on a lining of pride, "I managed to get a word out of him, brainwashed him, and made him release the Dark Shadow copy. Midnight put him to sleep right after though. They're taking the credit for it, they don't want people to think that they can't handle their own students." He let out a dry scoff, "Fine by me, I'm just glad everyone is okay."

"Neito's soul has been touched by Hell," Fumikage finally spoke, his voice a croaking, audible whisper that echoed like a drowning scream in the bathroom, "He will never recover."

A cold silence settled in the bathroom. He heard Hitoshi take a deep breath before simply saying, "Dark Shadow said that an exorcism can be performed within the hour if a demon possessed a person. Neito only had that thing inside him for a few minutes," There was a folding of his arms, "And if you ask me, he looked like he was fighting back the whole time. Either way you don't know that, and either way, there's nothing we can do about it." There was another long pause. "Our team passed by the way. They decided that there wasn't enough time left in the match to justify continuing it. Us, and Todoroki's team went through to the final round."

"How long do we have?" Izuku asked.

"About an hour, they're running games for people who didn't pass, then they're having their halftime show. Franchouchou are playing."

"Oh, those girls from Saga?"

"Yeah, it's, like, lame idol group shit though."

"I bet Ochaco will like it."

"She's stoked. So's Eijiro."

"Eijiro, really?"

"Yeah, I know, right?"

Fumikage rolled his eyes as he got the message. They weren't leaving until he left, and as such, he slowly pulled himself back to his feet and opened the cubical door. Hitoshi and Izuku looked to him. Hitoshi's smile was his usual half-smirk, and Izuku's looked like it was drawn on by a child, but either way, they were there.

And they weren't going anywhere. They weren't running away from him, or laughing at him, or insulting him for being different. They weren't blaming him for what happened either, they weren't pointing a finger to him and screaming curses or blasphemies.

They weren't leaving.

And Fumikage couldn't help but feel his heart grow lighter because of it.

"We should talk to Neito, if we can," Fumikage mumbled, still not quite finding his voice, "He might have questions. It is only right we answer them."

Hitoshi nodded, and yet, what he said next surprised not just Fumikage, but judging by the look on his face, Izuku too, "You guys go. I need to have words with someone." For a moment the two shorter boys exchanged looks before Hitoshi brushed a hand over the back of his neck, "It's fine. I just…" His eyes narrowed at his own thoughts, "I have a question I want answered."


Toshinori Yagi frowned as his eyes scanned the busy eating hall set up for the students. He couldn't spot young Shinsou anywhere, though he did spot young Iida standing tall in the lunch line, and what looked to be the familiar bob of young Uraraka's brown hair beside him.

It seemed that the young Midoriya, Shinsou and Tokoyami were otherwise engaged.

The five of them were practically thick as thieves, and he had to admit, he had a tendency for pairing Izuku with at least one of them during their class exercises. He worked better when relaxed, and he clearly was more relaxed around his friends.

Maybe they were somewhere else, waiting to eat away from the crowds. It made sense. He'd noticed that young Tokoyami and Midoriya in particular, seemed to be wary of busy places. Midoriya, of course, he understood completely, and he suspected perhaps he had found someone who also suffered from an unstable, unruly quirk in young Tokoyami.

He'd have to check those records later, especially after today's events.

As well as perhaps some other things he now planned to look into.

The blonde shook his head and turned to walk back out of the hall. He would have to have his words with young Shinsou later, perhaps after the tournament was over.


The medical ward was surprisingly empty considering the day's activities. One might have thought it would have at least had a few sprained ankles, a couple of bloody noses or maybe even a broken finger or two.

But then again, U.A. did have one of the world's most powerful healers on staff. One kiss from Recovery Girl and the students were on their way, albeit yawning and looking for an energy drink.

Still, it didn't stop the two students from traipsing down the corridors, trying to ignore the growling of their hungry stomachs, along with the punch-scent of septic and cleaning fluids to the nose. It was a combination that tended to make one feel light headed and slightly sick.

And yet, Izuku and Fumikage were determined to make sure that Neito was okay.

Tenya and Ochaco both had apologized for not rushing to the scene earlier, but apparently, the students had been held back from doing so by Snipe, who had threatened to use rubber bullets on anyone who even dared. They had offered to come with the two to check on Neito, but Fumikage had insisted against it.

Besides, they had their future matches to prepare for, and since they didn't expect to be there long, they could help get tables for them in the lunch hall.

Izuku and Fumikage had been given the okay to see Neito after a quick begging session with Recovery Girl, who had given them both a raised eyebrow before finally sighing loudly and allowing it. Not that they told her their more unusual reason for being there, of course, but their argument had truth to it. The two boys did want to apologize to him, and they did want to see if he was doing okay.

All talk of souls and demons had been certainly left out.

She watched them with a beady eye as they moved past her, her blue tinted glasses shining with something that wasn't quite suspicion, but far from trust. Izuku, however, ignored her. Even if she assumed something other than altruism in their actions, it wasn't like they would tell her.

Izuku opened the recovery room door and was immediately greeted by the sight of the blonde-haired boy looking out of the ward window.

The ward was small, with only four beds within it. There was another room for the girls, of course, but really, the stadium wards were designed for quick examinations and not much else. They could do all one would expect they could do, but in terms of what Izuku knew personally from the wards back at the main campus, they were somewhat basic.

On the far wall was a single window, in which the glorious sun of the hot summer day shone through. The beds were all separated by white curtains, though they had all been tied back as they were currently not needed.

"Neito?" Izuku braved as the two stepped further into the room, causing the boy to jump suddenly and turn back to look at them.

Neito was sitting against the headboard with a single IV hooked to his arm, probably providing some form of nutrient-rich saline solution. He seemed to be dressed in the same clothes he'd worn during the battle, as they were covered in dust marks and had slight cuts in the stitching. His sun blonde hair was mussed and there was a paleness to his face, but otherwise, at least physically, he seemed fine. A result of Recovery Girl working her usual magic no doubt.

But it wasn't the physical the two teenagers were truly concerned with.

For just a fleeting second Neito seemed to have a look of fear over his face, especially as his eyes landed on Fumikage, but then, like someone donning a well-worn mask, he quickly smirked. "Come to lord your victory over me, huh, Demon of Class One-A?"

Izuku felt Nemesis slide through his system like a sword being drawn from a sheath, "Keep talking, Copy-Cat, and we'll tear your tongue out."

"No, not at all," Izuku swiftly covered, ignoring the growling of his inner monster, "We've- erm- come to apologize."

"Myself especially, Neito Monoma," Fumikage announced. The two of them had only just learned his full name a moment ago when Recovery Girl had told them.

Fumikage's voice cracked as he spoke and Izuku could tell that it was tearing him up to even be here. He placed every drop of blame on himself, unfairly so in Izuku's opinion, even despite Hitoshi's harsh but realistic assessment.

As good a friend as Hitoshi was, he would never quite get how much it hurt to know that a thing within you, a creature made of shadow and hate, had lashed out and hurt another. A creature that was up to oneself to control, to keep in check, to keep safe from the world around them.

Fumikage knew as Izuku knew.

It was a shame that only those touched by Hell could ever truly understand.

The bird-headed boy moved closer to the bed, though not close enough to actually be in reach of the blonde while Izuku moved and hovered nervously around the end of the bed.

The scarred teenager watched as Fumikage bowed low and deep and as he spoke, Izuku could almost hear him forcing the tears from his voice, "My name is Fumikage Tokoyami, and I take full responsibility for my actions. I'm sorry, so sorry, Neito for causing you to copy Dark Shadow."

"I'm sorry too," Izuku announced, matching Fumikage's bow but not the weighty sorrow of his words. Not that he wasn't truly apologetic of course, but he knew Fumikage was being far worse on himself than was truly needed. "I shouldn't have allowed any of that to happen. I should have, I dunno, done something."

There was a long pause. Long enough for it to become awkward and weird.

Then, Neito spoke.

"Are you trying to insult me?" The two boys shot up straight. Fumikage with wide eyes and Izuku already stammering out some new kind of apology, yet Neito quickly cut him off. "What happened, happened because I miscalculated not you two idiots."

The words seemed to strike both the cursed boys dumb, that was until Fumikage finally braved out, "But- But-"

"I should have known the Demon of Class One-A would keep some kind of bodyguard around him," Neito casually continued, running a hand through his hair and looking as irritatingly dismissive as he could in clothes covered in dirt, "Like always teams with like. Next time I won't be so blind. You reveal your hand with every mistake you make! Now I know what to expect from both of you! Ahahaha!"

His words were deliberately mocking and cutting, and yet his laugh seemed… forced. It was hard to tell though, as he seemed to be putting on an air of deliberate distaste as if he was purposely trying to get a reaction out of the two of them.

Fumikage clearly had no idea how to react, though Izuku couldn't help but notice him suddenly take a low and deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment in focus. One might think that it was a sigh of relief, yet Izuku suspected it was more to do with Fumikage suppressing whatever cruel emotion Dark Shadow was trying to influence his mind with.

And it wasn't like Izuku was fairing much better.

"He mocks us. He mocks us and laughs in our face, despite our attempt at diplomacy. We should strangle him and watch as the light fades from his eyes, just to teach him a lesson."

Izuku copied Fumikage for a moment, taking a deep breath and pushing his demon back down.

"Neito, I have something I want to ask you, if you don't mind," Fumikage suddenly announced in a low, almost conspiratorial tone. He looked away, his hands momentarily playing with the hem of his shirt before suddenly folding across his chest. "I- well- my quirk, Dark Shadow. They have… some side effects."

This was it. The million-yen question, as it were.

Izuku tensed as Fumikage spoke, his anxiety twisting and writhing within his stomach like a coiled snake. His tail seemed to thwip back and forth, betraying his nervousness. He hoped, he desperately hoped, that the answer wouldn't be what he feared it would be.

He hoped Neito's soul wasn't permanently scarred.

"I just wondered if, if you're… okay." Fumikage continued, his voice low as whatever old fears, coupled with their old reactions, came to the fore within his mind, "Have you… felt any different?"

It was impossible to breach the subject without sounding like they were both insane, which he knew Fumikage was desperately trying to avoid.

Still, Izuku wanted to try and help, if he could.

"You know, like, up here?" Izuku tapped his head suddenly, "You're not… I dunno-"

"What? Going crazy?" Neito suddenly cut in, his eyes narrowing at the two, "What are you implying? Because I've copied a hundred quirks in my life and not one of them has driven me crazy."

Fumikage and Izuku looked to one another wide-eyed and shocked.

"Whatever effects a quirk has fades when I let the quirk go. And even if I don't let it go, they fade after five minutes anyway," Neito suddenly continued, waving a dismissive hand, "So even if your quirk is difficult to handle, or has any kind of mental effect, they'd vanish the moment I was done with it."

Relief flooded through Izuku, almost cooling his always heated scars and his tail relaxed behind him. So, Neito was alright. Whatever effects might have lingered would have faded either way, that at least was a huge load off his mind.

"His soul is craven and envious," Nemesis suddenly hissed through his ears, "Yet… we see no shadow. The Parasite did not lodge itself into his being, not that we can see."

Izuku was unsure how to take the statement, yet it wasn't like he could voice the musings of his inner monster openly. At least not until he was alone with Fumikage again.

But he took some heart in the fact that Nemesis seemed to have confirmed that the demonic crow-beast was gone from Neito's soul.

The blonde paused for just another moment and looked over to Fumikage. "I don't envy you though. Your quirk awakening must have been hell."

"Yes," Fumikage answered, his voice suddenly low and heavy with memory, "Yes, it was."

The mood in the room sunk and for a moment it seemed a shadow passed over the outside sun.

Oddly, as if showing some mercy for the sudden chill in mood, Neito spoke again. "Your friend, by the way," He asked without looking to the teenagers and instead tried to scratch an itch around the IV drip in his arm, "That purple haired, middle-eastern guy?"

Izuku frowned back at Neito, a little annoyed he'd referred to one his best friends as 'that middle-eastern guy' when he was born and raised in Japan, and Nemesis hotly moved through his scars, reflecting his irritation, "His name is Hitoshi."

"Hitoshi, right, what did he do to stop it?"

"Oh, he brainwashed you," Izuku answered, "He's done it before to me to stop Nemesis."

"And I'm pleased to see it would apparently work with an unruly Dark Shadow," Fumikage added with a low, musing tone, "That is one good thing to come out of this accursed episode."

"Well tell him I want to thank him," Neito commented suddenly, causing Izuku to raise his eyebrows in surprise. Obviously, Neito noticed this and frowned at the boy as he adjusted his position on the bed. "Look, I'm not a complete asshole. You Class One-A jerks are all full of yourselves, and I meant what I said on the field about you giving U.A. a bad name," A flash of hellfire threatened Izuku's scars, but the boy again forced Nemesis back down, "But, well, he saved me when the quirk I copied was going crazy. I'd like to thank him for that."

"Erm, sure," Izuku nodded, "I'll let him know."

"And as for you guys, I guess I can gracefully accept your apology on the grounds that any groveling from Class One-A is worth it," He grinned again, and again Izuku didn't quite buy it.

Still, it didn't seem as though he was any different from before, though perhaps his ego was certainly bruised. Izuku again turned to Fumikage, who simply locked him with his deep crimson gaze before sighing and giving him a tiny nod.

It seemed they had as much of an answer as they were ever going to get.


The two boys had left soon afterward, giving another quick apology each before leaving. Izuku, the boy who literally looked like a cheap tiefling from a tabletop game, seemed to be in a better mood than the crow-headed boy, Fumikage, who had remained somewhat dour and distant.

Neito had kept his mocking smile up the entire time until the door had clicked back into place.

Yet the moment it had his entire façade dropped. Gone was the derisive, confident student who had so easily hand-waved away the concerns of the darkly edged teenagers. Alone, in that room, was the real Neito.

And he was scared.

Scared because the memories of what had happened less than half an hour ago were fresh in his mind, and even when others had come to offer help, he had refused them. Because surely, surely, they couldn't have known… they couldn't have felt what he had felt in that moment.

He had taken a lot of quirks in his time and knew that not a single one felt the same as another. Each had their own effects on him, and not just by giving him power. One had caused him to laugh uncontrollably, another to weep like a child. He had copied Katsuki's quirk in one training exercise and had felt a bizarre mix of sudden, white-hot rage and a deep-seated fear for something that he couldn't explain.

All were controllable of course, given a few seconds of mental and emotional discipline.

But not one had caused the pain he had felt when he had copied Dark Shadow.

It had felt- it had felt as though something had reached down through his heart and into something else, something deeper inside him, and had lodged its corpse-cold talons into him, never to let go.

He had never experienced such dizzying pain, such horrifying coldness and terror and fear and hate like he had in that moment.

Neito curled up tighter on his bed, suddenly finding that he was breathing deep, almost as if he was about to fall into another panic attack. He'd had two since coming around already, though Recovery Girl had only seen one.

Did Fumikage know? Did Fumikage feel that way all the time? How was it possible for any one person to live like that?

And that other boy, Izuku, was his somehow similar? He had never heard of such a thing, but the look of fear in his eyes when Neito had told him his intentions on the hill…

Scritch.

Neito's head shot up and turned back to the window in sudden shock.

Nothing.

And yet he could have sworn.

He gulped and shook his head. No. No, he was just tired. Tired and physically spent from making his miscalculation in the match. He had copied a bad quirk. It happened sometimes. Never like that of course, but… it happened.

He just needed to relax, and maybe a good night's rest.

Yeah, that was it.

His eyes glanced at the window again as he promised himself that he was fine, even if he felt as though he was once again putting on another mask.

Everything was going to be fine.


"So, what do you want, Hitoshi?"

From where Hitoshi was standing, the corridor was warm with the summer sun. It was empty though, being a student's only passageway. Beyond them was a brick-red pathway, bushes and trees, nature and birds and insects and who knew what else.

From somewhere within the stadium he could hear the sounds of thousands cheering and roaring and laughing. He could hear Present Mic's booming tone shouting out commentary, undercut every now and then by Aizawa's wry sarcasm.

But that didn't really matter.

Right now, the world considered of this half-shaded corridor, himself, and the teenager across from him.

Leaning against a wall, with a shadow cast across his face, was Shoto Todoroki.

His arms were folded, his gaze tight and narrow, his mismatched eyes both so cold and joyless. It had been Hitoshi who had demanded to meet him out here, and he had threatened to make it into a command, not a question, if Shoto hadn't agreed.

He had honestly been surprised when the teenager had simply nodded.

He allowed the moment to stretch a little longer. Hitoshi wanted to see if he could somehow put the teenager on edge, or at least make him show some sign of unease. However, already his instincts were telling him that wouldn't be the case.

This was someone used to hiding all emotion, all tells and ticks. They were experienced in this, and that alone caused the weight within Hitoshi's heart to grow.

"I wanted to talk to you," Hitoshi announced calmly, "About what just happened."

Gone was the trepidation he had experienced before, a result of how Shoto had rescued him during the U.S.J. The boy had, undoubtedly, saved his life, and Hitoshi had spent the last few weeks nursing a gigantic crush on him.

Now, however? Now he felt as though he'd seen a different side to him.

Now he felt as though his crush was no longer quite so warranted.

"Neito copied Dark Shadow. He reacted badly." Shoto shrugged, his voice flat and unemotional, "No one was hurt. Our teams moved to the next round. What else is there to say?"

Hitoshi's eyes narrowed, "That's not what I'm talking about."

He felt his stomach twist in anxiety and his heart ached again. Dammit, he didn't want to be doing this. He didn't want to keep having to play the asshole because it was the only way he could communicate with the world, but he had no idea how else to approach this with Shoto.

And dammit, the part of him that demanded he be a hero was the same part that demanded he do this.

"Well, what then?" Shoto asked, cool and calm, his expression unreadable.

"I told you Dark Shadow has a weakness to light, and asked you to use your fire. You refused," Hitoshi's eyes brow furrowed just slightly, "We could have saved him faster if you'd used it."

"He was never in any danger," Shoto calmly shot back, "We're in a stadium surrounded by heroes."

"But what if we weren't?" Hitoshi suddenly snapped, a flash of irritation biting into his words. This was making him so- so angry, and his usual uncaring, sarcastic façade was cracking, "What if we were out there?" And he pointed suddenly to the wildness around the stadium. He let his arm fall and the anger truly enter his tone with a cold chill, "Why didn't you use your fire?"

Something finally flickered in Shoto's eyes. Something dark and hateful, though Hitoshi didn't feel like it was reflected on himself. Rather, he felt as though it was something… deeper.

There was a long, long pause from the teenager as the two fixed their gazes. Mismatched frost blue and storm grey meeting royal purple. Hitoshi swore he could see the thoughts, like chess pieces, being moved across Shoto's mind, playing out behind the ice of his eyes.

And then he spoke.

"Have you ever heard of quirk marriages?"

Hitoshi easily hid his surprise, though his eyes did widen a little, even if his lips kept stoic. It certainly helped hide the sudden knot that formed in his stomach. "Yeah, where two people marry to cross their quirks to make their kids stronger. They're illegal though."

"As I'm sure you already know, my father is the number two hero, Endeavor," Shoto continued, his voice flat yet… there was something there, like razor blades at the very edges of his speech, "He grew up in a time when it wasn't illegal, when laws regarding quirks were still being formed and put into practice. He's a very rich and powerful man, no one tells him no and he used his wealth and power to force my mother to marry him, all for the purpose of passing his quirk along, with hers, to their children."

Hitoshi's skin went cold. He was standing in the sunlight, yet his skin was cold. A terrible, awful shiver moved down his spine and as Shoto continued, the pain, the razor blades in his voice, became sharper, more evident, as if they were cutting their way through his throat.

"All of it was to defeat All Might. He could never do it himself, so he decided his children should be the ones to take the number one spot." Shoto looked away for a moment as his thoughts drifted, "My brothers and sister were failures, at least in his eyes, that's how he described them to me. I don't know, I never really talked to them, I was never allowed to. I spent my entire childhood alone, going to school then training until night with my father."

He took a shuddering breath and for a moment his voice trembled as he spoke, "My mother… my mother was kind to me at first, but as the years went on, she became… distant. She became afraid of me. She called me a cursed child, refused to talk to me, to touch me." He raised a hand to the wine-red scar on his face, "She would tell me this birthmark was proof of my curse, where the devil marked me. When she came near me, my father would… stop her. When I was seven, she tried to kill me in my sleep," His voice threatened to shatter as he spoke, and Hitoshi felt his heart drop out through his shoes, "After that, my father sent her to a hospital and I've not seen her since."

Hitoshi wanted to speak, to say something, but it felt as though all the air had drained from his lungs. Shoto's words crashed like wrecking balls through his mind. Cursed child. Devil marked.

No. No, it couldn't be him. It couldn't be…

Something calcified within Hitoshi's heart as pieces began sliding into place and a terrible, awful suspicion began rising within him. A suspicion he wished against everything wasn't true because the fallout could ruin lives and shake the heroic world but a suspicion that he had to acknowledge.

Shoto's jaw set just slightly, and yet his fury was almost as hot as open fire, "My father. He always told me he sacrificed so much to make me perfect. To give me the flame he demands I use. To make me the tool for his failed ambition," He scoffed scornfully, "Sacrifice. That's all he talks about. Sacrifices to make me strong, to make me powerful enough to defeat All Might."

Suddenly his eyes locked back onto Hitoshi, and it was all the boy could do not to wilt under his gaze. There was hate there, hate and terror and fury, but so much pain. Pain that Hitoshi had never seen before, not in his own gaze, not even in Izuku's.

This wasn't pain brought on by the world around him due to fate's unkindness, this was a pain inflicted on a personal level. This was a lifetime of orchestrated, regimental suffering.

This was a lifetime of abuse carved into Shoto's soul.

"So, I refused to use his fire. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of watching me use it to rise to the top. I will do it without his gifts, and I will make all his precious sacrifices mean nothing. For what he did to me, my brothers and sister, my mother. I will never, ever forgive him, and I will do all that I can to ruin his dreams."

Hitoshi felt his heart go through a shredder. He felt as though he should reach across, grab Shoto and hold him until all the hate was drained from his body. He felt… he felt angry. Angry that anyone, any one man, could ever be allowed to get away with this. Why hadn't anyone said anything? Why hadn't a hero stepped in and helped? Fuck, why hadn't child protective services noticed the pain in Shoto's eyes and done something?

And yet despite everything, all Hitoshi could ask was, "Why are you telling me this?"

Shoto paused for a moment. "During the U.S.J. you could have died, yet even with all your injuries, you insisted we go and stop Nemesis together. I think you're the kind of person who won't talk about this to anyone else, and besides, you asked."

You asked. The answer was so simple it almost blindsided Hitoshi. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and nodded, "Fine."

Cursed child. Devil marked. The thought was now stapled into Hitoshi's brain. And a terrible, harrowing suspicion now curled uncomfortably in his heart.

And worse, was that he knew there was perhaps only one surefire way he was going to find the real truth of it.

"If that's everything, I've got the finals to prepare for." Shoto pushed himself from the wall and turned to walk away, out of the stadium and into his own isolation.

Hitoshi's heart seemed to remember it was supposed to be beating in his chest, and suddenly he felt all the weight of his own emotions on his shoulders. Sorrow, anger, emotional exhaustion on a level he'd only felt once before when Izuku had told them all of his own life, his own trip to Hell and his return to the world.

In a way, he felt as though he'd just run through it all over again, and in a way, he knew if he acted on his suspicions, he may well go through it a third time yet.

"Shoto." Hitoshi asked suddenly, looking up and over to the boy, who had already cleared a few meters between them, though at Hitoshi's call he stopped and turned to look back. "I've spent my whole life thinking my quirk was evil. That what I can do to people, stealing their will and control away? That I would never be a hero, not a real one, not like All Might."

What was he even saying? He wasn't even sure himself, just that he felt like he had to say something.

"But I never stopped trying to be a hero. To do good. Lately, I've discovered that evil isn't what I thought it was, and yet, it's so much worse than I ever thought it could be. But that only makes me want to fight even harder." He sighed and raised a hand to the back of his neck before eyes locked back onto the teenager, "I'm fighting to win, to show everyone I can be a hero, despite everything. You should too."

Shoto paused and raised an eyebrow at this, before simply nodding once, turning, and walking away.


SO! Neito isn't possessed, but something had certainly changed within him. Maybe a touch of the old temptaint? For those who don't know what that is, shame on you, on your house and on your cow, go watch/read Blue Exorcist right away for an explanation.

Secondly, Toshinori is looking for Hitoshi? Wonder what that could mean.

Thirdly, Hitoshi replaces Izuku for the Shoto backstory scene. Why? Because I said so. Also, because I'm building to things. THINGS I SAY.

Fourthly, I just wanted to quickly address a very common comment I've been getting lately. Yes, I do plan on giving Izuku some much-needed confidence in himself and his power soon, very soon, after all the Intern arc is coming and I have MAJOR plans for it. But part of it is gonna be Izuku getting some confidence. This arc is being purposely written to highlight just how opposed and conflicting Izuku and Nemesis are, it's literally part of the plot. So I apologise for those getting irritated at the seeming lack of progress, but I assure you it is coming, the story, however, needs to shape itself to that moment first.

So, with that said, I wanna thank you all for reading, hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll see ya next update for some Mei flavored fun!