Prologue
Disclaimer: I do not own My Hero Academia
Info
Thoughts
"The Voice"
"Speech"
"Mumbled/whispered speech/overheard speech/speakign to the voice"
"Loud Speech"
Sound effects
Awakening
Thump
"Take that you stupid bitch!"
Thump
"I bet you're enjoying this, huh?"
Thump
"Come on, get back up, we're not finished yet!"
"Mom? Dad? I'm home! Hiruko got his quirk today so class ended early! I wonder what my quirk will be...I bet it'll be supeeeeer cool, like mom's..."
The brightly smiling young child opened the door of his apartment only to stop dead in his tracks, witnessing something that would traumatize him for the years to come.
His mom was sprawled out on the floor, bloody and bruised from multiple wounds, one of which looked particularly bad, a mean gash on the side of her head which tainted her usually snow-like hair crimson. She had very probably been thrown at the table's corner. It was not hard to figure out what was happening a few seconds ago, especially with a man, his father, standing by the side, knuckles bloody and a manic grin on his face.
As the boy entered his home, confusion and horror passed through his face in quick succession at the sight of his unmoving mother, while there was only deep sadness in the charcoal eyes full of love of said mom, silently saying, expressing, "I'm sorry" and "I love you."
Meanwhile, the father got out of his drunken stupor, eyes widening in show as he saw his only son watching him, shaking, terror and panic recognizable in his also dark eyes.
"Mom? Dad? MOM?"
Sadly, the young child did not arrive to the logical conclusion and could not understand, nor process what he was seeing. The only thing he saw was the ever so quickly growing pool of blood on the floor next to his mom. Hurriedly throwing his bag to the side, he rushed to his mom and took her in his arms, hugging her as if his life depended on it and started quietly sobbing, panicking.
"What happened? WHAT HAPPENED DAD?"
"It was an accident, an accident! She fell down and hit the table…This bitch deserved it…"
It was at that moment, when he heard the last part that his father had mumbled a bit too loudly, -at least that's what the child thought-, that everything clicked in the mind of the poor four-year-old and that he realized the obvious; it wasn't an accident.
You see, in the mind of a young child, everything is often white and black, when he realized that it was his father that had injured his mom, all the love he felt for his mom and dad became hate, all directed to the same dad.
Needless to say, the young child was, naturally, quite emotionally distressed and in great shock and, also naturally, thoughts such as "It's his fault", "He killed mom", "Mom is gone." Those were further emphasized by the fact the he had always preferred his mom, he was mommy's boy all the way. Was.
"Dad -sobs- what did you do to Mom," he asked shakily, his voice mixed with sobs menacing to break every word he spoke.
"Nothing, damn brat! She's fine, only sleeping, ok? Now do you homework and stop bothering me…She fucking deserved it" He half shouted, half murmured, taking a long gulp of booze, no doubt not his first of the day.
"DAD, WHAT DID YOU DO TO MOM!"
"He killed her, that's what he did. K̷̡̯͌i̷̯̐l̵̳̘̤̈́̔̆l̵̢̓͛̋e̴̲̾d̸̼͒̉̈́ ̸̭̅h̴̡̝̓̈́̄ẽ̸̹̤̹̆ř̵̡̰͘."
The voice spoke darkly, coming from the depth of the boy's soul, it was deep and high, young and old, energized and tired at the same time, impossibly complex, yet so simple at the same time, a speaking contraction. But there were two sure things about it, it was powerful and so, so charismatic.
The child was forced to listen, the lights all around the small 3 ½ apartment flickered ominously as the boy's distress spiked the more he heard, small tremors starting to shake the whole building.
"He took her head, and smashed it on the table, can't you see? Č̶̡̥̗̘̤͇̠ā̸̧̹̤͈̭̲̉n̴̬̥̽͐͑̉̀̚'̵̗͇͚̪͈̱̝͗̀̍̀ţ̷̛̭̻̪̘̑͊͑̈͠ ̵͈̙̑̊͘y̵͍̥̥̋̈́͌͂o̸̖̟̚u̶̫̦̰͑̉̓̈́̃̑͜ͅ ̸̞͓̮̈́͆̀̉̚s̴̰͎͎̏̌ẻ̴̤̘̲͉͔̓͛̀e̵͙͓̮̙̙͍̗͗͊ ̸̭̺̒̿̉t̷̨̫̺̫̙̭̰̽̀̅̿̏ḧ̴̡͖̭̮́̈́e̶͈̯̻͆͆̈́͐ ̷̛̭͊͆̎̂͘b̴̗̞̯̻̤̠̎̄̈́̕l̸̝̱͗́̂͗ö̶̺̫́͆̿̒̍̚ǫ̸͙̗̻̖͗̀̀̋̐̄͝d̶͕̪̼̣̔̍̀̎͊̎͆?̸͕̞̯̮̤̺̝̇̈́̏͛͐͝
The voice continued, and the lights dimmed even more, the flickering intensifying and the tremors now a full-blown earthquake raging through the whole district, the boy's raging emotions fuelled even more by the voice.
"Fucking hell this earthquake can't a man drink in peace! Come on, let it to life to figure out a way to make this day worse…First, the fucking wife, then the fucking kid, and now a fucking earthquake."
The Dad took another sizeable sip of his drink, sitting on his favourite armchair, trying to drown all of his issues in alcohol - and succeeding.
"You still here, brat? Just go to your room already! She's gonna wake up soon and be perfectly fine, Mom's just sleeping..."
"Listen to him! He never cared about you, never did and never will. Only your mom did, and now she's gone. Because of him."
The boy curled up even more on himself, withering in pain and despair, his white air, identical to his mom's turned black from the roots and his pupil growing and growing until his eyes were completely black.
"Who are you? Stop it please. Stop it stop it stop it stopit stopitstopit..." He asked, no begged the voice. The pain was too much, but the boy knew he would not faint, no that would be too kind, and he felt the voice was not kind.
"I am yourself, your deepest desires and secrets...You can't escape me, and you won't. But don't ask me to stop, you already know how. Just face it."
"How? I don't know... Just stop it...sto...-The boy paused, as if suddenly enlightened by something.
"Yes, boy, v̵͈͖̳̩̱̽͊̅̇e̵̟̅̚n̶̢̾͆̔͒g̶̣͎̟̜̞̼̘͗̚è̵̦͠a̵͇͐̎͆͛ñ̸̛̠̺̭̰̀c̴͎̞̼̐é̴̡̛͍̼̫̟, make him bleed make him ş̸̝͇̲̏u̷̧̮̘̇̍̀̇͐̀̐f̷̯̜͙́̈̐͆̊̎̕f̶̙̼͍͓͈̉͜e̵̫͂̈́̏́̒̒͘r̷̝̖̟̝̱͇̻̀. He deserves it. We both know it… We both want it…"
The phenomenon started again, this time the boy's shadow changed, though only the trained eyes would be able to notice it, it was quickly changing between a formless monstrosity, too horrifying to be described by mere words and the regular one, a child. It was flickering as the voice influenced and manipulated the feeble and malleable mind of the young child, his great distress making it even easier.
As the voice became more and more powerful, black line appeared all over his body, as if his veins were tainted black, contrasting sharply with his ghastly white skin. Inexplicable phenomena continued as well, the hands of the grandfather clock on the wall spinning wildly, the sinks opening and closing at random times, the water pitch black, the people on pictures briefly moving, before immobilizing themselves once again, but in a different pose.
It was now almost impossible to see anything, a heavy fog-like gas permeating the entire apartment and the light so dim you'd think there were closed.
"Dad… -sobs- Did you… -sobs- kill mom? DID YOU KILL MOM DAD? DID YOU DAD?"
"YES I FUCKING DID! HAPPY NOW? NOW LET ME THE FUCK ALONE KID! -gulp-, His father shouted, alcohol no doubt having destroyed the last remains of restraint, patience and humanity he had.
"We knew it, we were right all along. Now what do we want?"
What do we want?
What do we want?
"We want him to ş̶̡̝̻̰̱̼̻̪̰͎̪̤͉̫͕̻̻̫̹͔͉̻͎̎̏̾͑̈́̃́͌̽ư̷̡̨̨̡̛̜̻͔̺̥̪̜̫̮̪̩͚̫̭̭̗̠͓̗͖̝̌́̈̇̀̉̿͛̒͆͗̐̽̈̿̿̔̾̂̎̃̋͊̉͘͜͝f̷̢̢̢̡̧̛̛̱͓̗̪̝̰̠̙͎͇̤͈͍͈͓͔̩̱̲̫̝͇͍̙̲̐̐̑̀͊̓̑̏̂͒̇͗͗̔̀̄̀͐͆̽̊͆̒̍̆́̾̚͘͠f̶̢̥͈͖̰̹̙̖̦͙̫̥̘̰̭̭̲̈́̂̂̋́̿̔͋̿͒̏͌̊̐͑̐̕̚͝ȩ̸̧̢̧̰̫̥̗̩̮̯̫̦̖͈̜̯̖̲̬͇̣̗̞̳͈̍̃̈́͊̐̑̋̈́̓̈́̂̀̈́̓̔̚͘͘͠ṙ̸̨͎̜͔͕̜̩̭̰̙̯̱͚̠͉͕̎̏́̓̃̅̓́̌̌͆̕̚̕͜͠͝͝ͅ "
"We want him to b̶̡̨͖̝̫̗̱̗̦̮͋͐ļ̴̮͓̖̮̜͇̣͙̺̮̜̗͓̪͓̙̺̫͙̂̄̆̒̒́͆̎̾̂͌̉̓̅͂͌́̚͠͝͝e̵̛̥̞̲͔̙̎̽̋͋̏̋̔̋̌̽́̾̈́̽̉̍̽́͗́̃͌͊̿͆͘͘̚͠ḛ̷̱̟̥͚̣̖̱̗̟͗̎͗̂̾̀̓̔̒̈́̀̌̍͒̐̔̈́̀̈́͋͂̽̓̊̊̚̕͘͝ͅͅd̵̡̡̨̢̻̱͙̠̘͉̮̦̭̝̯̝̹̦̬̝̱͕͙͙̜̈́̆̈́̍̈́̅͆̍͛̏͑͐͛̿̉̓̾̆͒̂̂͑̕͠͝͝ͅͅͅ
"We want…"
V̴̧̡̢̡̡̨̢̧̛̳͎̭̣̜̤̪͔̬̯͎͈̰̩͎̬̝̻͉̳̩͚̳̝̼̱̘̘͎̲̳̙̯̞̭̲͎̣̤͕͙̝̮͈͎̲͚̘̜̹͙̺͕͈̺͛͐̔́́̍̎̈́̏͂̿̎̿̋̉͛̒̏͂̉͊̽̿̿̎̓̇̎̉̏̍́͆͌͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͠ͅͅẹ̶̡̡̢̡̯̝̪̻̜͎̞̫̤̠̹̯̗̪͙̳͓̙̘̟̙̲̝̙͕̪͍̫͌͒̅͆͗̌̌̀͑̀̀̀̉̀́̓̍́̀̌̉͗̈́̽͊̆̑̈́̈́̓̏̀̓̿̈͂͒͘͘̕̚̚͘͜͠n̷̨̤͕̠͉̰̭̦̤̺̫̮̘̹͉̪̞͕̤̰͍̳̜̘̹̣̪̖͓̫͕̬̦͙̘͑̅̒͜g̷̢̧̡̨̨̛̘͖̠͖̖͉̰͕̬̳̩̻̮̫̠̠̮͔͎͙͎̮͍̩̹̭͇͉͉̗̥̩͖̣͇͈̹̯͇̳͍̹͚̲͎̘̭͙͍̺̙̼̠̲̹͔͕̭̞̜̣̤̯̈̊́̃̅̾͗͐̌̋̽̎͂̓̾́͘͜͜ͅe̸̡̢̢̨̡͎̱̮͕͙̬̱̦͎̠͓̺͍̥͚̻͕̦̻̗̼̣͚͖̩͍̓͒̃̌̂͌̀͑̾͊́̀͝͝ͅa̴̡̢̢̨̛͔̤̦̘̖̝̣͔͙͍̪͚̳̫̘̥͙̠̤̩̙̤̳̻̦͍̼̫̠̬̤̲̣̦̍́̎̊͋̇̓̀̅̂̃̑͒͋͆̄̇̀̑̃̊͑̏̾̃̿̐͊̚̕͜͝͝͝ͅņ̷̨̛͕͓̳͉͖͚̱̫̥̺̲̤̣̥̗̲̫̩̘̦̻͔̠̹̪̯̠̝̙̖̓̄̄̎̃̓͒̓̌́͂͐̊̓̄̀̏͗̆͛̇̓̀̓̑̌̃̿̐̐̅̀̐̐̆̒̽̈͐̊̇̔͊̽̈́̔̉̅̓͂̌͗̀͂̈̾̂̉͋̆̈̈̇̚͜͜͝͠͝͝͝ͅc̷̨̧̢̢̼̘̣̻̱̥͉͙͙͎̭͔͈̖̮̼̻̱̳̩̰͉̗͖̩̙̪̱̹̩̦̬͉͍̗̜̭̲̜̯͙̦̳̱̹̰̟̩̱̘̠͇̼̲̓́̿̾͘͜͜͜ͅͅě̵̡̧̨̡̛̦̮̮̰͔̠̦̹̞̲͖̤͓̗̥͉̺̹̗͖̖̣̦͓̝̳̱̮̫͉̠͇̮͉̫̯̫̫̝̱̰̺̖̮͎͉̲͓͖̟̹̝̫̀͂͑͒͒̆͛̅̇͆̐͊͌̈̎̎̌̔͋̑́͂͆̃͘͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅ
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The voice won, and there was darkness.