CHAPTER 1: The Chapter Where Izuku Realized... He Fucked Up
You can do it, Izuku. Just walk in, grab something, and leave. Simple. You—
"Oi, Deku!" The loud voice startled the eight-year-old child out of his frantic thoughts. Wide eyes met narrowed red irises and a small squeak left the aforementioned child.
"K-Kacchan?" Izuku's voice came out in a higher pitch than he intended and he inwardly winced. The spikey blond standing in front of him had never liked his meekness and Izuku worried that this encounter would result in sparks burning his shirt again.
The red eyes looked him over, suspicious yet curious - that was never a good combination. Izuku shrunk back, tugging at the green hairs curling at the back of his head. "Wh-what do you need, Kacchan?"
Kacchan grumbled and folded his arms. "You shitty nerd, what am I hearing about you accepting that stupid bet?"
Izuku blinked, shock pushing aside his wariness. Was his childhood friend… worried about him?
" No I'm not! " Oh no, he had said that out loud. "I just don't want to deal with Auntie's yapping when she finds out you've been murdered by some freak, you damn Deku."
Izuku tugged at his hair a bit harder. "They said that they would include me in the next game if I did it..." He took a deep breath and looked at Kacchan with more confidence then he really felt. "I'm going to prove that I can do it!"
Kacchan snarled before simply turning around with a huff. Sparks erupted from his palms. "You're too weak to even handle a sappy movie. You're a fucking idiot if you think you can do this. I better not hear your damn crying if you chicken out."
The corner of Izuku's mouth twitched at the seemingly cruel reply and he nodded furiously. "I won't chicken out!"
The blond grumbled and walked away, leaving a determined child behind him.
Later he wondered if anything would have had turned out differently if he had listened to the blond's sad attempt at stopping him…
Izuku glanced from the alley to the piece of paper that had the street's name jotted down to the sign hanging loosely at the corner; it creaked as a soft breeze passed by. He gulped and suddenly wished that he hadn't accepted the bet. The sun had already begun to set and Izuku had a really bad feeling about the dingy alley. The whole area seemed to scream danger from the uneven cobblestones to the ripped garbage bags spilling waste all over the path to the foul stench of something decaying.
He wanted to run away.
But he had promised Kacchan (not that his childhood friend would admit to agreeing) that he would complete the bet. And besides, All Might always faced scary stuff with a smile. He took a deep breath in a pathetic attempt to psych himself up. It was hard to do that, though, when he was shivering because of the dropping temperature. Maybe… maybe it hadn't been the best idea to wear his All Might t-shirt and shorts for this.
The cold finally forced him to move; the want for his warm bed motivating him to finish the bet as quickly as possible.
They had only said to grab something that looked cool and get out of here. Anything... simple, right?
Izuku whimpered when a faraway light flickered on, causing the alley to be bathed in a soft yellow light; the shadows grew sharper as the sun disappeared. Time was running out.
He gathered all the courage he had and stepped into the alley, looking around him in hopes of spotting something that wasn't smelly or moldy.
Izuku trudged all the way down to the end of the alley, examining the old brick wall which was the only color to be seen in this desolate place. He swallowed heavily and turned back to the way he came from, deciding that nothing seemed exciting enough to bring back with him. He was exhausted enough from the constant fear he felt that the bet didn't seem as important as before.
Red shoes moved to dash out of the creepy place when a flash of light caught his attention. reflecting back from a shiny surface. Izuku froze and turned to the source, moving cautiously closer to it; he pushed aside a few garbage bags that were in his way.
It was probably a marble. Cool enough to show his classmates and to prove to them he was strong. He reached out to pick up the marble, only to touch something squishy and slimy instead of the cool surface he was expecting.
Izuku stiffened and raised the item higher to inspect it, revealing it to be a white ball that...
A scream reverberated throughout the previously silent alley.
Izuku threw the now confirmed eye away, realizing that he could see a face between the bags; a horror stricken eyeless face. Izuku felt bile rise up his throat and he released it onto the stained pavement. Tears streamed down his filthy face and he stumbled away from the corpse. Izuku ran through the alley towards the entrance on trembling legs, mind dizzy from the horrifying image he had just witnessed.
Oh my god! A dead person! A kid! It was a real person! He had held an eye! Oh god, oh god, he touched an eye! He touched a dead body! He had to tell someone! He had to run away!
Something about the whole situation kept nagging him though. It sounded awfully familiar.
Unfortunately, it wasn't until he was faced with a shadowed head at the entrance of the side-street that the nagging turned into a horrible realization.
The head wasn't floating. It was hovering in the air, a long rope-like neck connecting it to something out of his sight.
Its face was what had made the connection form in Izuku's mind.
The news had been talking about a neck manipulator killer that targeted children.
Izuku had agreed to go on a bet in the same district the killer was hunting in.
The killer was standing before him!
But he had no other way to run to but the beginning of the alley. He had to somehow get out. Maybe the head —
The body joined the head.
Why? Why couldn't he just catch a break?
He was openly crying now. He was going to get killed like that child by the brick wall.
He didn't want to die.
He didn't want to die.
He wanted momma! Momma! Help him! Momma!
As adrenaline pumped through his throbbing head, Izuku grabbed a bag of garbage and flung it at the body. The freaky killer yelped and flinched away with a high-pitched squeal, giving Izuku the chance to speed by them and escape into the maze of the streets.
Izuku heard footsteps close behind him as he zigzagged down roads, heart in his throat, and legs burning; sweat dripped into his eyes and they burned. His own shoes thudded against the cobblestones as he escaped.
What seemed like an eternity passed before he finally looked back, terrified the killer's head would be still following him, long neck trailing behind it.
He was alone.
Startled, he tripped and face planted into the ground. He cried harder as his newly scraped knees and hands throbbed. Covering his pounding nose and trembling lips he rose to his knees and took a look around him; his panting filled the silence.
His weeping grew to a full out panicked sobbing as he realized that he was lost.
He was so stupid! Why did he think that that stupid bet was a good idea? He just wanted to have friends for a change. But he had to screw up everything like the quirkless loser that he was.
Izuku curled up on the floor, hoping that someone would come and save him. Izuku wanted a hero to find him and smile down at him as they guided him home.
He wanted his momma.
A delighted squeal turned his insides to ice and Izuku scrambled to his feet. He snapped his head around to see that the killer's head had appeared around the corner. Wide doll-like orange eyes zeroed in on him and a large grin stretched full lips gleefully.
"Found you, my pretty."
Izuku shrieked and ran away again, praying for anyone to come save him.
Giran inwardly sighed in annoyance, raising the tip of his gun shaped lighter to the cigarette so he could light the tenth one that evening .
He hated dealing with fools as much as he hated vodka, but business was business. And as a broker for villains he couldn't afford to be picky.
He took a long drag from the cancer stick and gazed beyond his round spectacles at the overly rotund suit fitted man that was rambling about gaining new members and strengthening his trade routes with thugs or something. Giran nodded to make it seem as if he was following the conversation, but otherwise he was lost in his own thoughts.
Giran already knew what he had to do anyways. The slowly fading cartel's boss was a repetitive schmuck. He wasn't as idiotic as he appeared sadly – one leading a cartel could never be truly stupid – but the man could annoy even a saint to death.
Fortunately, the meeting concluded before he could start entertaining the idea of using his lighter for something other than lighting smokes. He bowed to the man and coolly sauntered to the exit, waving a goodbye as the doors closed behind him.
Leaning against the corridor wall, he heaved a deep sigh and watched the smoke fill his sight for a moment before floating calmly away. Giran chuckled and plucked the cigarette out of his mouth, waiting until he was outside to throw the remains to the ground and crush them under his dress shoe.
Absently he fished his phone out of his pocket - rubbing his tongue over the gap his missing tooth left - checking several unanswered messages and some recent news reports.
Nothing special to note. Just a slow, boring night. Giran sighed and turned off the device, switching it out for his cancer box instead as he began to walk down the sidewalk.
He slowed to a stop, though, when a terrified scream echoed before him. Giran's already squinted eyes narrowed further and the lighter gun was taken out and switched to fight mode. Giran started to walk away from the noise, but winched when the sound disappeared only for footsteps to quickly grow in volume. He wondered what kind of a chase was he hearing, but he didn't want to stick around when the chaser closed onto the screamer. He hated the unnecessary carnage.
Quick footsteps joined the panting and Giran watched as a small child appeared from the darkness and collided with his legs. The kid fell to the ground with a yelp before he started to sob in a pathetic show of tears, snot and blood.
He blinked and looked down at the small person at his feet. The child looked to be around seven or eight with a messy mop of green curls hiding a dirty face and a bloody nose. The kid looked scrawny and bruised up; clearly having been running for a while.
From what soon became evident when Giran noticed the orange eyes shining from the inky shadows faraway. The child whimpered and scrambled to hide behind his legs. It would have been a smart move if Giran wasn't who he was.
He demonstrated this by taking a step to the left. The child's breathing picked up and he tried to hid behind his legs again; the kid shook like a leaf. Giran smirked at the amusing sight.
"So you're using me as a shield against someone?" He inquired, gaining the other's attention. Bright green eyes raised to meet his, breath hitching as Giran's smirk turned malicious. "Now isn't that rude of you?"
The child immediately scooted back, eyes turning sharp as they took in their surroundings.
Now he was intrigued.
Despite the mucus and tears staining the innocent face, the eyes spoke of intelligence. Giran himself has had to deal with many different kinds of people and this had led to him becoming quite skilled at reading people.
And from what he saw the kid looked promising.
Perhaps tonight wouldn't be so dull after all.
Giran huffed out a snort and crouched down before the terrified child. "Are you being chased by a killer?"
He was answered with a hesitant nod.
The head was closing on them, their doll eyes turned from Giran then to the child who was trembling.
"You need help?" Giran asked. The child turned to him, wariness replaced by desperate hope. His chuckled, gesturing lazily at the child. "Of course, it would come at a price."
The child's eyes widened and attempted to get up and run away from him, only to be captured by a long slithering neck. The doll like head smiled maliciously at the struggling and shrieking prey.
The child killer, huh. If left alone the kid was guaranteed to die a gruesome death, which would be a shame since the kid could later prove to be useful.
The head reattached itself to the body of the killer who hugged the child possessively. The child clawed at the killer's hold and green eyes snapped to Giran's, begging him for help.
He smirked and brought his phone out. "Want me to save you? Remember that it'll cost ya."
The child nodded frantically, fat teardrops rolling down his cheeks. The killer snarled at Giran, clearly not wanting to surrender their prey.
Unfortunately for them, Giran wasn't deterred.
He only smiled, amused at the display.
"Then it's a deal." Giran took off his glasses.
He felt his quirk take a hold of his face as his gaze turned predatory. Giran knew that his eyes were glowing a faint red now, the effects of his quirk beginning to take place.
The child went slack, eyes widening. On the other hand, the killer's stance faltered, but still held strong with teeth bared at him. Giran sighed and made a show of shaking his phone a bit. "I have Acid Blood on speed dial. Leave the brat alone if you know what's good for you."
A long, tense moment passed, the child's labored breathing piercing the cold night air. Then, the killer slumped and buried his nose into green curls for a long whiff before unraveling around the small body; the killer set him down gently before slithering away in defeat. Giran waited until he could no longer hear the footsteps before turning to address his new slave. "Well—"
The kid shrieked and staggered back, tripping over a stone and falling to his bottom. He trembled horribly as Giran drew closer, the small body curling in on itself. The man crouched before him, quirking a brow up amusingly as he realized that he had forgotten to turn his quirk off. The child was probably close to passing out from fear.
He sighed and dropped his intimidation, putting his glasses back into their original position on his face. Giran took this opportunity to further examine the strange new addition to his life without the risk of the kid fainting..
"So what's your name, kid?"
He received a dark glare, the fear still clouding the small form, but now determination was bubbling inside through it. How curious.
"Alright then, no name. How about a quirk?"
A flinch. "I… I don't…"
"How peculiar. Quirkless?"
A small pause than the slightest of nods. Giran hummed and stood up. That quirklessness could be exploited. No one would take notice of him. No one would notice what should be discarded trash. It was as if that little child was a small gift wrapped up just for him.
He could predict that life was going to be much more interesting now.
With two swift strides he was by the small body and yanking the other up by their shirt collar.
The kid yelped and automatically kicked his legs out before he managed to plant his feet onto the ground so he wouldn't slip out of his shirt. Giran tugged the child forward and lowered himself once again, so bored, blank, red met fearful green. Giran grinned at the expression, relishing in the shudder he received. "From now on, I'll call you Ya'rok. Get used to it since you won't hear anything else."
"Wh-what?" The innocence was back, confusion evident.
"Get used to your new name since you're saying goodbye to your old life. I can't have you running around on your own after all."
Confusion melted into horror and the newly dubbed Ya'rok clawed at his hand. "Let me go home, you creep!"
Giran simply fished out a box of cigarettes. "You agreed to the deal. Now time to pay up."
He lit his cigarette and inhaled the smoke before blowing it into Ya'rok's face. "First lesson, kid – being saved from the brink of death equals a life debt. Now I own your life. You'll leave when I get tired of you, but then you'll have to leave life overall and you don't want that."
Ya'rok let out a wet hiccup which transformed into a yelp when his collar was tugged, forcing him to walk by Giran if he didn't want to be dragged backwards. The child wept, pleading with him to let him go.
After a few minutes, Giran twisted the fabric he held, digging two nails into the soft skin of the other's nape. The kid whimpered, unable to stop crying.
'How annoying," Giran thought, 'I'll have to nip that habit at the bud.'
"Second lesson, kid. Cry only when you want to be underestimated. Now knock it off or I'll give you back to that killer as a present."
That had shut up the child, who now forced himself to stop his sobs by covering his mouth, fist nearly buried into it.
Giran took another puff from his cigarette. "That's better."
They had half an hour before reaching his place; it better be silent.
He had a lot to plan after all.
please read and review on my stories. I would love to hear your thoughts and ideas. Who knows, maybe there will be a debate.
ENJOY~
(P.S. I don't own bnha or the characters except for my OCS, which I will say when they come into play)