"Going out again?" Kastuki's mom called from the kitchen.
"None of your business!" he yelled, slamming the door before she responded.
Walking down the street, he looked to the setting sun. This had been his routine for the past few months. It allowed him to think more clearly. Strange how he used to scoff at the idea of having moments of quiet to think on one's feelings.
His thoughts turned to the U.A. upcoming Entrance Exam taking place three months from now. He was feeling pretty confident. His quirk was powerful and he had the will to act. Anyone that got in his way he'd crush.
At least that's what he'd liked to think. Those kinds of thoughts had become harder to grasp and maintain over time. It all stemmed to that night.
He stopped as the feelings of that night rushed in. After going over what he had seen and remembered, he had managed to calm down before anyone could tell that there was something wrong.
The dork wouldn't go that far just from being taught a daily lesson by him. What he had said about jumping wasn't the worst thing he could say. No, he probably had just run off to do whatever nerds with hopeless dreams do.
That had to be it.
Gritting his teeth, he felt sparks pop in his hands. Growling, he thrust it to his left at wall, leaving a large scorch mark. After calming down, he looked around to make sure he was alone before moving on.
Sighing, he rubbed his face and tried to clear his mind. Whatever had happened that night, there wasn't any point in dwelling on it. Especially if he had no idea what really happened. Whatever his fears were had to be pushed down if he was going to achieve his dream.
As the night started to set in, he passed TV store and saw a news broadcast. Some gang of villains had been suppressed by Endeavor. Crime in that area had gotten rougher in past few years. As reporters tried to stop and interview him, the large, fiery man pushed through them, a look of bitter indifference.
He didn't know why, but looking at the Number 2 Hero made him feel uneasy. The cold, heartless look of his eyes cut into him like a knife. They almost seem to say 'none of you matter. There's only me.'
Is that what he saw in me? A voice in his head asked.
"Dammit," he growled, more sparks erupting from his palm. Turning the corner, he made his way back home, more unsure than before.
When he made it back home and went upstairs, he lay in bed. Turning towards his closet, he saw the pair of red shoes nearly hidden by darkness. Feeling a lump in his throat, he turned over and shut his eyes tightly.
"It wasn't my fault." Even after this long, saying it still didn't work.
As Ochako placed her sweaty workout clothes in a bag, her phone buzzed. Seeing it was her mom, she stopped and answered.
"Hey mom," she tried to keep the exhaustion out of her voice.
"Hey sweetie," her mother's voice rang out. "How was art club today?"
"It was good!" she said loudly, trying to drown out the sounds of fists on punching bags in the backround. "We're working on a new project that I'm excited about."
As she chatted about her day, she hoisted her bag up and made her way out the door.
"Nice job today, Ochako!" Her mentor called out from a nearby room. "Be sure to work on those punches!"
"What was that?" her mother asked. "Did someone say punches?"
"Ah- no! He said 'hunches'" Ochako stammered, quickly waving and running out the door. "That was the main focus today. Paint based off hunches!"
"Okay," her mother said in a suspicious tone. "Anyway, are you on your way home?"
"Yeah, I'll have dinner ready for you when you get back from work," Ochako responded, jogging down the street as night time settled in.
"Oh...um, sweetie I can't make it to dinner tonight." Ochako slowed down. She felt the energy she had before ebb away. She new why before her mom even said anything.
"The staff is a little short tonight, so I'm filling in. I won't be back till after midnight."
Taking a quiet deep breath, Ochako composed herself. "No problem. I'll put some stuff in the fridge for you."
"Thanks,"her mother said, trying, but failing to keep the exhaustion out of her voice. "Also, there should be some letters from U.A. about the Entrance Exam coming in today, so be sure to check the mail."
Her energy kicked back in with that information. "Awesome! Thanks for reminding me!" A voice sounded on her mom's side.
"Oop, got to go," her mother said wearily. "Goodnight sweetie, love you."
"Alright, thanks for calling. Love you too! Say high to D-" she stopped herself as the call ended. The night suddenly seemed darker than it should've been. As she walked in silence, she tried not to think about it.
She should've gotten used to this. She understood why her mom really took the shift, but she didn't want to press the issue. As she approached her home, she remembered to check the mail and sure enough, there the papers were. Walking up the stairs, she read the letter detailing the Entrance Exam and the date. Only a few months from now.
While she started to cook dinner, the thought of it made her feel excited and nervous. This was one of the best schools for hero training, as well as churning out some of the best heroes. This was her chance.
The excitement created a tingle in her fingers as she brushed a pan, causing it to float. "Dang it," she cried, placing her hands together. "Release!" The pan fell back down with a loud clang, causing her to jump.
As silence settled in, doubt nawed at her. All kinds of people with all kinds of quirks would be trying out. People with quirks that could help fight and attract more attention. She frowned as these thoughts buzzed in her head.
That's why I joined fight club, right? It had been four months since she had joined the fight club and her skills had certainly improved, but would it be enough?
Her eyes moved over to the nearby cabinet, where several pictures stood. One showed her and her parents. Looking at her dad, whose smile and large figure had made her feel safe, instead caused pain. The sadness hidden in her mother's voice as she told her a reason for taking the night shift while Ochako heard the real one.
Tears flowed down her cheeks despite her best efforts to prevent them. Sniffling, she thought about what he would say. But when she did, the image of him now replaced the one of him then.
It's not your fault, her mom had said as she sat crying in bed, her voice convincing enough for anyone but her.
Think you'll help anyone by feeling bad? Get up and keep standing. Her mentor's voice echoed in her head. Looking back at the photo, she wiped her nose and looked at the letter. Her future was detailed in that message and she would make sure it was.
I'll take care of us, she thought as she furiously cooked. She would make enough money for them. Anyone would who tried to stop her would fall by her word or her fist...when she improved her punches.
His hands moved almost mechanically as he focused on his work. The time had blurred to the point where hours and seconds were practically the same. Despite the aching of his hands, back, and eyes, Izuku pressed on.
"I have to finish," he muttered. This was important. He couldn't fail. But as he thought this, he suddenly realized that he wasn't sure what he was working on. Looking down, he saw that his hands were obscured in shadow.
This momentary pause let the exhaustion rush in. Groaning, he rubbed his tired eyes. He froze as a warm, wet feeling sparked as his hands touched his face. Looking down, he saw a crimson substance all over his hands.
"W-W-What the-." he stammered, his heart pounding violently. Almost as if in response, there was shifting in the darkness before him, followed by a pitiful, muffled mulling. Slowly, it morphed into a low gurgle, then a deep growl. A sickly green glow began to shine from beyond, shaping the shadows into a hulking shape. One with wide eyes, a beak like mouth, and an exposed brain. Blood covered its body, but it had no wounds. The motionless shapes at its feet told him enough.
Backing away, he felt a pair of hands stop him, grasping his shoulders. Turning, he saw a twisted black figure with several hands, bluish hair, and hollow eyes, grin wildly at him.
"You're guilty by default," it rasped, pointing to the bodies at the feet of the abomination. Before he could respond, the beast ran at him, screaming. He tried to run, but the figure's hands held him in place. To his horror, he felt the skin and muscle beneath the hands break and turn to dust, sending pain stabbing into his body. The darkness rushed in, pain and terror consuming him. The image of his mom appeared briefly, faded and blurred. Frantically, he reached out to touch it.
Izuku woke up, crying out in terror. As his heaving chest slowed, he looked around. He was back in his room, the darkness minimal, the light a dull orange.
Looking down, he was sitting at his desk with several papers littering the surface.
Groaning, he rubbed his eyes, grateful that they were clean of any blood, physically at least. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The time read 3:17. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes, grateful that they were clean of any blood, physically at least.
A knocking on the door caused him to jump. Standing, he opened it and found Kurogiri standing there.
"Are you alright, Izuku Midoriya?" the warp villain asked, his normally robotic tone laced with concern.
"Yeah, I'm okay," Izuku replied, trying to sound less tired. "Just….trouble sleeping."
"You have been working yourself beyond your limits these past few months. Perhaps you should rest. I could get you something to help ease-"
"No!" Izuku said, too loudly. Clearing his throat, he tried to calm his tone. "No, it's fine. Thank you, Mr. Kurogiri. I need to keep my mind clear if we're going to win."
Kurogiri nodded, though Izuku could almost see a frown in the expressionless mass of dark energy. "Very well. Let me know if you change your mind." He closed, leaving him alone.
Sighing, he turned back to his desk, determined to finish his work. He had to. As he moved back, he noticed his reflection. The sight disturbed him. His darker hair was longer, unkempt, almost wild. His bare chest, while more muscled and defined due to his increasingly harsh training, looked strangely thin, with ribs noticeable beneath the pale skin. Looking at his face, he saw deep shadows under his eyes.
This strain was more than he thought would be required. But his pale right eye reminded him why he couldn't sleep right now and he looked away.
The images and pain of the dream plagued him in the following hours, but he continued nonetheless.
"I'm not guilty," he muttered repeatedly, like a mantra. His mind was so murky that he couldn't tell if that helped. Did he still care?
"How is he?" Tomura asked later that day while playing a game.
"His body and mind is under constant strain. It's a miracle he hasn't completely broken down yet." Shigaraki felt amusement at the trace of annoyance in the man's voice.
"Aw, have you gone soft on him, Kurogiri?" he said mockingly, grinning as the boss he was fighting neared defeat.
"Not as much as you did." His character's attack missed and the boss hit him, killing him instantly. Turning away from the game over screen, he glared in shock and hatred.
"What was that?" he said quietly.
Kurogiri, realizing what he said, cleared his throat and backed up a step. "I meant no offense, Tomura Shigaraki. I merely point out that despite you vouching for his usefulness and character, you seem content with letting him destroy himself."
Shigaraki calmed down as he pondered these words. Ever since Izuku had started helping with their plans, his normally perky and nerdy attitude had waned to a certain degree. His training, while progressively yielding better results, showed signs of change. His student fought with a sort of wild, desperation. This, combined with the anger that Tomura occasionally sparked in him with taunts, made him formidable, but sloppy at times.
"It's the work in the lab," he said. "That's what's making him like this. I expected him to feel a little less righteous after he understood what he was doing with Nomu." His reaction to what Nomu really was had been priceless. Even though he wasn't doing the messy bits of the work, Tomura could see the stress and disgust in his eyes as he worked.
The whole 'I won't kill anyone' was ridiculous. Sure, his plan to ruin All Might's image was one way to get points, but it still didn't change the endgame.
"One way or another," he said, passing the warp villain," we're all gonna have blood on our hands. He just hasn't accepted it yet." As he made his way out into the hall, he remembered that day.
His hands were wet with blood, the room dark and silent. His body was nothing but puddle, all except a hand.
Alone, he had thought. I'm all alone.
He looked into Izuku's room, where he was sleeping. His body jerked and his face contorted in horror. Walking over, he placed his hand on the boy's head, keeping his thumb off. "You'll understand," Shigaraki whispered, as Izuku squirmed more in whatever nightmare he was having. "When you finally do it, you'll be fixed."