Full Summary:
One for All is a quirk that passes the power from one successor to another. Me, a dumbass writer, reads power as paper.
The AU in which One for All is a literal paper contract that as long as it stays a 'possession' of the holder, that holder will gain power greater than All Might.
Bakugou Katsuki deals with the loss of Midoriya Izuku. Meanwhile, the Prowler is either the most brutal vigilante or villain the world has ever seen.
Tags: Dead Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki-centric, Analyst/Villain Bakugou Katsuki, Deku's Notebooks
Graphic Depictions of Violence, Langauge Warning, Implied/Referenced Character Death.
Act One:
Ironbound
On the catwalks and rusting fire escapes, a prowler walks. On the creaking and groaning billboards, the hunter dances. On the ground with the grimy mix of ash and mud, is his prey.
On his hand is justice. On his hand is judgement.
He is the fowler, the prowler. And the city is his snare.
A certain Mudfight is about to find out what being trapped feels like. The minor-level villain weaves through the crowd, his muddy sweat pouring out of his skin madly and uncontrollably. It leaks all over the ground, spilling from the edges of his shoes. Mudfight knows he's leaving a trail. But he can't stop it.
"Get the fuck out of my way!" He screeches, slushing as he bumps into people in the street. Horrified people scream as they suddenly bathed in thick, sloppy mud.
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!" Mudfight vaults over the stalls, splashing bystanders. He melts under the cars and rounds about the street corners like an avalanche. He was much faster as a blob anyway.
He runs over a cyclist and vomits them as he passes. He needs to keep his speed. There by the alleyways - where the passage is too small to follow – that is where he must go. There he can blend in with the trash and dirt accumulated under the city rain, or he could solidify and acquire a more human persona.
The alleyway is only a few more feet to go.
He'll live to be the first to escape the strange prowler.
BOOM!
A piece of metal whizzes by in front of him, embedding itself into the store's wall right beside him. And with it, was a sudden outpour of water – gushing out from a nearby fire hydrant.
His mind's chorus erupts into curses.
In the mist was a figure clad in black.
"FUCK! SHIT! NO! MOVE!"
The figure draws closer.
He urges himself to move, but finds himself dramatically slowed down. The continuous bombardment of water forbid him from solidifying. He was continuously watered down, he was melting!
"NO! GET AWAY!" The figure drew closer.
He slithers down on the ground. Forget the arm and legs- he shrieks at the growing large pool of mud water spreading out on the asphalt - he could regenerate it later. He needed to get rid of the watered down body parts.
SLUSH!
He disconnects from the rest of the mud and speeds off. Watered down means he becomes faster, though terribly weakened.
He finally slips into the alleyway.
He approaches a handful of dirt and merges with it. It should be enough to regenerate his legs, not enough for his arm.
"Damn that Prowler!" He curses to himself under the warm glow of the streetlight. No one else would be around. He leans on the wall, panting, weak, and delirious. He closes his eyes as sweat pours from his body. His sweat now more water than mud. "Fucking Prowler, making me overuse my quirk."
"Overuse, you say?"
Mudfight spins- not enough time. A hand grabs his head and slams him down hard on the ground. The hand pushes him – presses him down on his back, it's so strong- he feels ribs break and his backbones creak. He couldn't breathe. At a final snap in his chest he cries in pain.
"Do you think you're smarter than me?" Prowler sneers. Mudfight's lungs are surely being crushed. What is with this monstrous power?! His fingers claw and scratch on the sharp stones of asphalt till they bled. "HELP! HELP! SOMEBODY!" His hands tremble like they were going to break- somebody save me.
Just a little more- he shifts back into his muddy phase, still human in shape but enough for Prowler's hands to phase through him. Prowler can't touch him if he's not that solid. There are no more hydrants around- he's safe, he's safe-
"FOOL! YOU CAN'T TOUCH ME!" He grins through the pain. He just has to flee now and he'll never see The Prowler again.
But The Prowler grins. A large, manic grin. That grin does not belong to a vigilante. Even Mudfight hasn't seen that smile in the villain's he'd come across.
The Prowler cackles.
"Thank you, bitch."
"What-"
The Prowler raises his right hand- and an explosion shocks the earth and sky. A burst of hot flame pours out of his hands like a rocket. Their surroundings are enveloped by scorching hot fire. Mudfight screams. He tries to flee but every direction is wrapped by fire. The Prowler grabs his leg and pulls, making him fall on the ground. How could he grab him- he was mud!
"Hey Mudshit," the Prowler grins. "You wanna know what happens when you expose mud to heat? What happens when you bake them?"
He shook his head violently.
"What if I expose baked earthware into a much higher temperature?"
His leg burns- and to his horror- he witnesses his leg solidify and crack. His leg was going to crack off.
"STOP!"
"I'll do whatever you want! Just stop…"
He shifts into his human form, closing his eyes which poured a stream tears.
The heat around him dies down. Something cold attach themselves to his ankles and wrists. His breath is shaky. Terrified. Too fast. Heart drumming in his ears. He cracks his eyes open. The Prowler had just attached quirk cancelling handcuffs to him. He glances helpless up. The Prowler stands in front of him, emotionless. On his hand is an old notebook. #11. Mudfight's seen it before - he couldn't remember when but he definitely has. The Prowler's lips tug into a smirk, but the man's red eyes doesn't sparkle with any mirth.
This man had just caught him, Mudfight! The elusive criminal! Why wasn't he satisfied after he nearly broke Mudfight's arms and legs off?!? Permanently?!?
"The plan works perfect, don't it." He sighs and closes the notebook. The Prowler steps closer, his heavy footsteps thunderous to Mudfight's ears. He kneels down, and Mudfight finds himself helpless in the company of bloody red eyes - eyes that blend with the nightmare black of the Prowler's mask.
"I need just one thing out of you," the monster spoke, tone eerily even and calm, "where is your leader?"
Mudfight whimpers. "I don't- I don't have one. I don't know what your talking about."
Mudfight's breathing is wet and at the same time airy. His heart is beating in his ears again, all the sounds of the world are cloudy, like spoken from behind thin film.
"I swear I don't! I swear I don't!"
Prowler's Cheshire grin returns, he stands straight up, and seen from such a low angle the Prowler's face looks more menacing. Mudfight feels himself become so small and insignificant. "Now... let's get your useless ass to the precinct, shall we?"
With a punch, Mudfight blacks out.
Later, he would find himself in a jail cell, with police officers busying themselves with his presence.
He looks at his hands and legs. Both had empty cracks running through them. There was no way to repair the cracks. If they had simply melted off, he would have been able to reattach or repair them. But with them this badly damaged- he'd have to give up using his quirk for good.
The Prowler was a dangerous man. The Prowler had been around for half a year, the man was notorious for his brutal and incredibly "effective" captures. The Prowler doesn't choose a side, it seems. He's seen sidekicks and heroes get taken down. He's seen minor and major villains taken down.
Mudfight tries to whimper, but no voice comes out. All the screaming and shouting he'd done…
"Alright then, Doro-san," A detective appears before him. He didn't notice the detective come in. His own sanity must be slipping from him now, Mudfight muses. "I'm going to ask you a few questions. And as a fair warning, I suggest you not to lie."
He gulps.
"Villain Name: Mudfight"
"Quirk: Mud Phase (he hasn't been caught yet so I don't know what's in the official registry!!!)"
"Quirk details: I'm calling the quirk Mud Phase because from what I have observed, Mudfight has turned into and is able to function in different phases of mud (solid and fluid-like (I'm too scared to say liquid haha))."
"Mudfight also exhibits characteristics similar to that of mud. He appears more solid/cakey during the summer, which I believe to be an attribute of clay or mud during drought. If this is true, then it is possible that Mudfight can be weakened or immobilized by high temperatures. It also appears that he is fastest during rainy days, but noticeably weaker in terms of strength. If the theory if him transforming or rephasing into mud or clay is true, the reason why he speeds up is because the concentration of water in his mud form is increased and makes him less viscous and flowy. This also seems to lower his density and decreases his force/strength."
"Plan in case of fight: Utilize depending on situation
Plan A) Mudfight must be first weakened and/or reduced into a more manage mass. Water him down to decrease his impact and hinder his fighting capabilities. Note: Mudfight will gain super speed once exposed to water. Keeping him exposed to water will be enough to out him in a life or death scenario.
Plan B) In the case that water is not available or not sufficient, use high temperatures. Mudfight's mud will begin to harden and may immobilize him. Note: This is a greater risk to his life and may cause severe collateral damage. If exposed to extreme temperatures, even hardened mud or clay will start to crack. Place him under-"
Bakugou slams the book shut, letting a small smile grace his lips. Deku's notes and plans were infallible. The Mudfight villain didn't stand a chance. It wasn't that hard to track down the villain, to keep tabs on their activities, and to chase them down. The "Prowler" didn't limit his searches and targets to a single neighborhood, district, or city. He would chase them as far as he has to.
But for now, he'll be heading home. It was a tough night. With a fond smile, he places the notebook back in it's water and fireproof place in his vest. He tips his hat forward, to further hide his face, despite having a black, feathery mask by his eyes. He adjusts his gloves, the darn thing keeps slipping off. He'd have to modify them sooner or later.
He takes a deep breath, and leaps from the rooftop of the police station. For just one moment, he relishes the feeling of the evening breeze, climbing atop the towering billboards and the buildings of bright, colorful city square. For one second he embraces the short moment where anger is asleep – one second is all he will allow himself in - for all who fly are like Daedalus, bound to be haunted sooner or later.
He stops at the apartment complex 4 blocks away. That one had so few tenants, an open staircase with a dimly lit area, and a blind spot every 7:15 PM. He changes his clothes. He merely placed the vest and capelet and atop his school uniform. Sure, it was hot, but that also meant that he is able to utilize his quirk better. He tucks the clothes into his book bag and walks home.
"I'm home," he announced. He takes his shoes off, grimacing at how muddy they were. He'll clean that thing later. He takes a plastic bag and shoves it in there to not make a bigger mess than he already has.
"Welcome home." His mother's voice greets him from the living room. Ah, she's watching those dramas again. His dad must be running late too. He clutches his book bag tighter as he climbs up the stairs to his room.
"Oh, what did you do this time?! You're filthy!" His mother exclaims.
"Yeah, almost got jumped on the way back from group study." He laughs. "I gave them a good beating."
"I'm sure you did." She sighs. "Take a shower, you look like a walking mud pie." His mother cries in disgust. "And you better not stain my floor! I just cleaned it!"
"I was already on it hag!"
"Then why the heck are you going to your room?!"
"Shut up!" He jogs back down the stairs (much to his mother's chagrin) and to the bathroom.
He dumps the book bag on his floor and takes out the vest and the capelet. He dumps it on a bucket full of water and pours detergent on it. He'll soak it there for now. He needs to get the mud off of him first. Deku didn't say anything about the mud guy being able to manipulate mud other than his body so he was probably safe from being invaded by a mud monster.
He takes off his school uniform and places it on a separate washer. It was a light color too. He missed his Aldera uniform, it was black and wouldn't obviously stain. Hs sighs, well, there was no going back now. And his costume wasn't that properly thought out as well. Just his uniform disguised with other elements.
He turns on the shower. Hot. Not scalding, for once. Just hot. He furiously scrubs the dirt off of him. It wasn't the first time he had to deal with a nasty and disgusting villain, or had a fight that left him covered in filth. That left him in his bathtub with fiery red skin (and a few wounds), brushing his teeth until his brush ran out of bristles and gargling for nearly 3 hours. Judging from the contents of the notebooks, he's far from being done with disgusting villains. He shivered at the thought.
A knock. "Katsuki, I'll leave your clean clothes here, okay?"
"Yeah." He replies, reaching for the soap.
"Let's have dinner together, okay?"
"Yeah- ouch!" His skin stings again. He's scrubbed too much again.
Dinner affairs were quick and strangely quiet. He gratefully spooned the hot chicken broth, relishing the way the warm comfort spread within him. There wasn't much to complain about, and he was sorely tired. He chewed on the chicken with growing satisfaction.
"You got your homework done at the study group, right?" His mom inquired.
"Yeah, it was easy anyway." He lies through his teeth. He's grateful that eating hid how his lips trembled at the prospect of lying. He had done his homework yes, back at school and it took him merely 15 minutes to get through the whole thing, but the study group was entirely false. There wasn't anyone in his class that wanted to be partnered with him. Good. Because he didn't want to be associated with them in anyway either.
Mitsuki lets herself smile. Bakugou stuffs his mouth with more food with so much force it spills on the table. "Dammit, brat, eat more slowly. You're wasting food!" He grins cheekily with sharp teeth at her.
Dishes were washed and plates were put away. Katsuki plods up the stairs once more and up to his room, his mother choosing to stay up until his father Masaru comes home.
He locks the door. And begins his ritual. Like every night, he pulls the worn notebook out of his book bag, turns on his nightlight. He sits on the bed legs crossed and gathers the courage to read.
He brushes his hands on the roughened cover,
"Hero Analysis for the Future #12"
and opens the notebook to the second page. For some reason, Deku refused to write anything on the first page. The smell of paper and ink greets him, welcomes him. Something flashes in his eyes, in his soul. He tunes it out, and focuses on reading.
"Hero Name: Eraserhead (underground!!!)
Quirk: Erasure!
Quirk Details: He has ability to nullify quirks as long as he looks at the owner. It seems that his quirk is unable to delete mutant types, as seen from his fight with mutant-type villain Dragoonsuperscriptpage56!/superscript. This quirk puts him and other heroes in a high advantage against emitter-quirks provided that the villains are completely or highly dependent on their quirks. It is very obvious however that his quirk is activated when his hair rises (haircut? hair tie?). He essentially fights quirkless (!!!!!! aahhh) but his cleverness and technique make up for it.
Weakness in a fight: In the event eyes are damaged, he is rendered almost useless. Protective goggles are worn but if they were to be broken… Perhaps a flashbang would disorient him. Because his eyes are his most apparent weakness he will be very defensive and conscious of it. Going for the eyes with a projectile is a good strategy, but while his attention is on the incoming threat/projectile, attack other vital points. (note to self: hide weaknesses/make weakness less apparent!
His capture weapon plays a huge part in his fighting style and contributes to his versatility. He cuts his capture weapon if needed, so if repeatedly placed in a situation where his capture weapon is trapped and shortened to the point it is useless, it is equivalent of rendering him quirkless. If faced with a foe equal or greater in dexterity and technique, the loss of this weapon would disadvantageous (note: don't trust equipment too well.)"
Katsuki hums to himself. He's read the entry and all the other entries in the notebook countless times, read the notes on now to improve his fighting countless times.
"Eraserhead is an amazing pro-hero. He could be an inspiration to quirkless kids or kids with less flashy quirks. He shows that skill, technique, and cleverness can make a difference and be able to stand on the battlefield."
He looks at the sketch again. Deku… had always admired heroes. Of course he admired Eraserhead. Perhaps out of all the heroes out there… Eraserhead is the one whom Deku saw himself in the most. Not even All Might could've stood in Eraser's place.
He stops at page 5.
"Anyone can be a hero. There are no villainous quirks, just bad people. Quirks don't determine… usefulness or whether someone is a bad person. So maybe…"
The next words are crossed out with a thick black marker. But obviously written back on the paper hastily and with shaky hands. "I can be the first quirkless hero."
He swallows.
He closes his eyes, and counted.
He flips to the next page.
"Hero Name: Frontier
Quirk: Geographic Barrier (official name for some reason)
Quirk Details: Can form a geographic barrier around a specific area determined by a map. It seems they cannot control the size of the area, since it is based on geography and general location, but it decreases the search area drastically since it traps people inside. However…"
Deku continued to ramble about the quirk in his notes. Katsuki never liked the nerd's mumbling. To be honest, it wasn't that loud but it was kept in such a perfect volume where the mutterings are indecipherable, and being only the tiniest bit louder than perfect silence, it kept strained ears yearning for it to just completely shut up or speak louder.
And gosh, don't get him started with the nerd's note taking. His writing can be silent, but when too deep in thought, Deku has this tic where the pen or pencil scratches the paper as he wrote. The scraping and scratching noise of the pen's edge against paper was unbearable.
…Katsuki could still see the indents and the deep lines within the inked letters. The kid wrote with too much pressure on paper, burning passion immortalized within the heavy markings. If he were to become blind, he'd still probably be able to read the notebooks through touch alone. Katsuki laughs morbidly.
57 heroes and 42 villains. 112 sketches and 99 quirks.
Such were the contents of Notebook #12. Sure, some notebooks shared the same heroes and villains, albeit the more newer ones had more detailed analysis of their quirks. And had a more concerning amount of contingency plans for heroes.
He stares at the notebook in front of him for another hour. An hour is all that he could give himself. An hour is all that he would allow himself.
Shiketsu High School. The only other school that could be as prestigious as UA High School. It was farther from their house than UA was, but it didn't matter to him. What was a longer walk, what was a greater distance compared to reaching a lifelong dream? It would be worth it. He just had one problem with Shiketsu.
He growled as he threw his damned hat on the floor. What ever did a hat have to do with being a pro hero?! UA had the bothersome neckties, and Shiketsu had the lousiest caps! At least a necktie could be used as a weapon! What was he gonna do with a cap?
He stuffs it in his bag and grumbles all the way to the station.
He liked to keep it that way. The pride of getting into a prestigious school is great and all, but not all things are to be boasted about. He'd let the crowd clamor for him. He laughs.
"Bakugou? That you man?" He freezes.
"So it's true, you didn't get into UA?" Shit. Fuck. Keep walking.
"Oh man, you sure did talk big back then, huh?" It was Sakemachi. One of the taller brats back in Aldera and had a quirk named Predator. Lanky, thin-boned, and graced a generally unpleasant face. He leered with a funny grin, hovering all over Katsuki's appearance. "What nobody school accepted you?"
Without the signature hat, he looked like a normal high school student. It's absence gave him anonymity of some sorts, unaffiliated with Shiketsu or any hero school. A part of him wanted to shove the hat up the guy's ugly mug. But as violent as wanted to be, Shiketsu isn't too keen on having a spot on their record.
"What, you're not gonna say something? That's new." Sakemachi hummed.
Bakugou snarls, turning fully towards the idiot. "Oh shut up. Like you're one to talk. You look like you got into a backwater school. And what's with your shirt color? Ever heard of 'laundry'?"
"It's crème!"
"No, it's piss." He says, a-matter-of-factly. "I have better things to do than teach you basic hygiene." Sakemachi flushes, something a toilet should do and not the human embodiment of a cathole he is. He hadn't won the insult battle, he knew that, but it was enough to reduce Sakemachi into a mass of sputtering. He'd make a comment of it (believe it when he says he has a lot of ammunition) but Sakemachi wasn't one of Bakugou's prey.
His grip on his book bag tightens, as he walks away. He had a train to catch.
Obvious from his appearance, Bakugou Katsuki wasn't the type to dwell on thought, at least, for a long time. There is only so much someone could do until the time for self-reflection comes. For those who ignore its calling, the time strikes like a thunderbolt from the blue. For those who listen well, it comes like a well-anticipated storm. Bakugou in the mean time is either ignoring, or ignorant of it.
But so cannot be said for the people around him.
Bakugou Katsuki of Shiketsu High was a far cry from the Bakugou Katsuki of Aldera Middle School. The younger boy was temperamental, like a torrent. Volatile, eruptive, untamable. King of the beasts, king of the best. The way he strikes is like the rolling of thunder: always foreshadowed by a bright light. The younger boy stood high above his peers and all his teachers, ego boosted further by his keen intellect and terrifying athletic prowess. Bakugou of Aldera was Kinetic. Bakugou of Shiketsu was pure potential.
Aggressive and arrogant, yes, but somehow reserved. Everyone knows what he is capable of, everyone fears what else he is capable of. He strikes devastating and quick. His attacks are unforeseen, you will not see him coming. He outmaneuvers his foes - he outsmarts them, and thus, he terrifies them. He is calculating, downright conniving. Bakugou of Aldera was a hungry lion, what was Bakugou of Shiketsu?
Bakugou flips his classmate over his shoulder and hard unto the floor. Kinro Hamada's shrill voice echoes in the training site. Kinro pounds his fists unto Bakugou's legs signaling he's given up.
A whistle. "Incapacitated." Bakugou lets go of him and runs off towards the next objective. The training session is not over.
"Geez, Kinro, you're too quick to give up! You had 18 minutes left. How are you gonna be a hero if you're going to back out in every fight?" The boy in question didn't have the time to answer for the whistle blows again, Bakugou had knocked out another of his opponents.
He leaps up and atop the makeshift tower, not even using his quirk to propel himself, and runs quick across the catwalks. The steel creaks and groans under him.
Hasegawa, the last opponent guards the flag. As soon as he hears the incoming footsteps, he turns and pre-fires a flurry of ice.
All that follows happened in a split second.
Bakugou had already taken to the air, blasting for himself a smokescreen. By the time the flurry reaches his initial position, Hasegawa had already received a blast to his face and blown over to the side. Bakugou lands. And with a smug grin, he draws the neon blue flag. "Objective captured."
"Katsuki Bakugou: 176 points!"
"Katsuki-kun, you really came!" Inko Midoriya greeted him, wearing the same kind smile she had whenever he visited. Her eyes finally had their life and shine back, but the lines in the corners of her eyes disagreed.
Bakugou lets himself return the smile. It was the least that he could do. But he averts his eyes.
"Is this about the notebooks again?" She inquired, as she leads him to the living area where hot cups of tea await.
"Yeah... I, I was looking through them again." He sits. Her smile softens even more.
"I really appreciate what you're doing, I can't say how much it means. To the both of us." She grabs her own cup, and takes a sip. Bakugou mirrors her. He doesn't know what to say.
"He talks a lot," he opened. Probably not the best thing to say.
"He does." Inko laughs, eyes glazing over. She runs her thumb on her hand, seeking comfort. "I… I really wonder what would happen if he had one himself, you know?"
They sat in silence for a moment, until Inko began again. "How's Shiketsu going for you?"
Bakugou shifts more comfortably. "The classes are good. They're more focused on the technical and legal aspect of hero work but the physical side is good enough."
"Izuku would've loved it there."
"Yeah…" Bakugou downed the rest of his tea. "He would."
Inko shook her head. "While the information is nice, that wasn't what I meant." She waves her hands in a vague gesture. "I wanted to know if you're happy there."
"It doesn't matter. I'm there to be a hero."
Inko laughs at his expense.
"I still have his notebooks around here. I couldn't bring myself to read them. Perhaps, one day I will."
"You will." Bakugou affirms. "I'm sure you will."
Inko smiles. Bakugou wishes she doesn't. Because while the smile is soft, genuine, and kind; he knows how much it pains her to pull it off. To get the crinkling of the eyes just right, to have the lips curl just right, to make her voice not waver at all.
Bakugou wishes she doesn't, because the smile and the pain looks exactly like his. He couldn't take that smile away from her, he couldn't do that again, so he could only hope and look away.
"I'll go get them," she says as she stands.
"I can get them myself!" Bakugou blurts out. Inko couldn't look at the room without crying. He knew that scene very well.
"No! It's fine. I'll be quick." She quips quickly, already rushing towards the stairs.
"Auntie Inko, you went last time. It's my turn to get it." He places a hand on her shoulder to calm her down before ascending the stairs. Inko follows him closely behind.
The stairs felt narrower. The last time he'd climbed these stairs was back when he was 4. Now that he was taller, bigger, the walls seemed closer. Each step grew heavier. He sees it down the hall. An All Might doorplate smiling brightly at him. Proof of Izuku's childish tastes.
He hears Inko's muffled sob behind him as he turns the knob.
The door opens to a miniature All Might museum. Tons of All Might figurines line the shelves; posters with the man's big, bright smile plastered on every available place on the wall; red, blue, and yellow-lined bedsheet; and drapes in the pattern of the American flag. The only difference or clue that it wasn't an All Might museum was the study desk by the wall and a drawer for clothes.
On top of the desk is a towering stack of binders, and a pen holder bursting with colored pens.
He builds courage to step into the room.
He heads for what he was after. He reaches beyond and above the desk – reaching into the shelf above that had numerous file holders, each one named and filled with neatly arranged Campus notebooks.
"UA" "Fight. Style" "Costume"
He draws out the one with the code "HAFF 7-14" written neatly in print.
Inko speaks up from behind him. "I'm sorry, I still couldn't find the first notebook. And the fifteenth. I've tried looking everywhere but I just couldn't find it." Hero Analysis For the Future #1 and #15. The only notebooks missing from the collection. The latter being the last notebook Katsuki had burned.
He picks up notebook #8 and #13.
"Two of them?" Inko asks.
He nods. He reaches into his book bag and replaces #12 back on the file holder. He slides it back snuggly into its place.
Inko follows him to the door. "Thanks for having me Auntie Inko,"
"Oh it's no problem! I could use the company. You're always welcome here Bakugou."
He waves her goodbye. They were literally neighbors, so he just had to walk a couple of steps home.
"Katsuki-kun!" She called. For the first time in a long while, he sees tears on her face, he sees a crack in her façade. Cracks you only see when people say goodbye. "I don't blame you. I never have."
He gifts her a small smile. It was the least he could do. He returns home and locks the door. The boy Katsuki Bakugou spends the remaining hours of daylight doing his homework, having dinner with his family, and resigning himself early to bed.
The Prowler struck at night. Another prey delivered to the station, but the nature and means of how they got there as mystifying as it has always been. Another conspirator delivered into unsuspecting police.
The Prowler pockets the notebook, and pockets the knife. He should be focused his prowl tonight, but only an unspoken reply was on his mind.
'You should.'
Hi! So this will be updated here and in Archive of Our Own. I prefer to update it there because it has tags but I'll still keep posting here though. i want to say a lot of things and post it right now so badly and it terribly pains me to keep my mouth shut!!!! (this note was written 5days ago. i can't take it anymore)
please leave some comments on what you think is going on - the whole thing implies a lot of stuff and i really wanna know if i'm leading you guys right
i'm forcing myself to write using prompts but it don't work for me at all and i'm literally just finding excuses to sneak the words into the chapter
this is never gonna go the way any of you think. HAHAHA
I just grabbed the japanese names and surnames off on google and mashed them together.
prompts: thunderbolt (i love the imagery a little too much), personate, deprecation, plod
SMOEONE HLEP WITH THE TITLE AHHHHGHHGHHH