Hello, dears! Yes, we know, it's been exactly 7 days since we posted this story and we're finally coming out with a prologue lol. We were debating whether to post one or not but here it is! :)

LunairiaBlaze and I would like to thank all of everyone who has submitted an OC so far, you guys are amazing. We're still going over every OC, we had way more than we even planned on, so it's taking us a while to finish reviewing them. This is still open for OCs, so please feel free to apply if you'd like to. We decided it was only fair to give you guys some kind of prologue to go off of to set the tone for the overall plot, but also give you guys a feel for our writing styles. Please excuse our mistakes, and I hope it's not too awful XD

I'm still trying to PM everyone back, so please know that if I haven't answered your messages yet that I am working on it and I'll have everyone answered soon. Usually, I'm very quick to reply, but with all of the PMs I've been receiving at once and the limited time I've had to be on here, I haven't fully messaged everyone back. I am so sorry, and I am very thankful for all of your PMs. Every time I read one, it makes me so happy to know someone cares enough about our story to participate with us. Thank you a ton! So remember, if I haven't messaged you back yet about your OC, you should receive a PM within the next day or two. I work and go to college, so it's a bit difficult for me to find a lot of time to be on at once, but I do try my best to get on every day or every other day.

Because of this prologue, we're actually changing the rating of the story to M, just to be safe. Things took an EXTREMELY DARK turn LOL and at first, we didn't plan on it but it just kind of happened so here you go XD There will be descriptive/graphic scenes of violence, horrific events, death/murder, language, and angst. However, the whole story won't be as dark as this prologue, we promise! Let us know what you think of it!

The first chapter will definitely be a huge contrast to this one, much more light-hearted and humorous, so please look forward to that!

Thank you guys again and let us know what you think! This story is still OPEN FOR OCS!

LunairiaBlaze: Sorry for the long wait guys, here's the prologue! Thank you for reading and don't be afraid to review even if it's all criticism, it can only help us in the end. All the spots haven't been filled yet, so there's still plenty of time to submit more OCs. You can even send in multiple OCs if you haven't already.

Disclaimer - We do not own My Hero Academia. This story is merely a work of fiction.

Rating - M - for graphic scenes of violence, horrific events, death, murder, language, angst, etc.

Warnings - THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA, GRAPHIC SCENES OF VIOLENCE AND DEATH THAT ARE NOT FOR THE LIGHT HEARTED OR UNDER-AGED CHILDREN. You have been warned. Please read at your own discretion. Turn back now if this is not for you.


Prologue

Every human's life is a story. We all have different characters and plotlines that are told in unique fashions specific to one person and their experiences, no two stories the same. The days are pages and years are chapters. And finally, after all of these numerous, lengthy chapters, Recovery girl was at the end of her arc at U.A, the prestigious hero academy of Japan. She was writing the closing paragraph of her life here, finishing up the last sentence before slowly turning the page to a fresh start successfully ending her long arc and tearing a hole right into her aged, fragile heart. But it was time; she couldn't continue much longer here. Even though this was a dark time for her students, they had to go on without her now.

Students from all over the world came to attend this school to become proper heroes, and she has seen a great many grow and prosper, while just as many if not more have failed; their hopes and dreams dashed into the dirt, tossed aside like yesterday's leftovers. Some were reckless in their desperation to improve while others simply stopped putting in real effort as soon as they passed the entrance exam. But one thing was for certain over these years, she loved them all like her own children, and she certainly didn't hold back when it came to reprimanding them, especially if they really needed a good lecture.

Recovery Girl's movements falter when her hand comes across something that feels like paper, shoved in the deep crevices of the jarred, bottom desk drawer. My my, what is this? She was pretty sure she had already cleaned this drawer out last night, so what could this be? Curiosity always kills the cat, as they say, and they couldn't be more right. Curiosity usually did get the better of her, probably one of the reasons why she took this job in the first place.

She squints at the paper-like material as she pulls it out to get a better look with the overhanging lights, illuminating the newspaper clipping of a certain someone with wavy, unmanageable hair, wide-eyes, and freckle covered rosy cheeks. Goodness, what a sweet sight for such tired old eyes. Her heart was swelling to the brim with affection, and the elder didn't bother containing the smile that curls its way onto her face from joy in the midst of this bittersweet transition as she remembers one troublemaker in particular. Times like these were when she wanted to chastise herself for getting attached to her students, but it was something she couldn't help.

The newspaper clipping was from the boy's first year, right after he had selflessly, yet foolishly, jumped into action to save his much angrier and crass classmate. After these three years, she had forgotten she even had this picture in the first place, all jagged at the edges from her careless cuts and wavering in her wrinkled hands as her heart sang in its confines. No, Izuku was a special boy, and she loved him much like she did everyone else, but he would always hold a place in her heart, the same place that she wanted to seal him away from the cruelties he would face as he got older. And it would just be getting worse. Especially at a time like this.

Yes, he was a very genuine kid but so utterly reckless when he first started out. Saving and protecting others came as easily to him as breathing, but control over his quirk often felt like pulling teeth, and he would yank them out with bare hands. My god, she shook her head with a faint chuckle reverberating around the now empty nurses quarters, he had grown so much over these past two years, and now he was in the next graduating class. She would have loved to see him go all the way, but these old bones of hers may not hold out until then. Izuku needed support in a time like this, such a critical time for the future of heroes where the world's every worry was placed on his wiry shoulders to carry, and she feared he couldn't do it alone, but he was being forced to. Bless the poor child's soul… But he had no option now.

She had fought against it, had demanded that the school board and fellow heroes give the boy some time, give his class a chance to be children for just a little longer, but their hands were tied. And she, who was she? She was just an old lady whose time was coming to an end. No matter how much she stayed up shedding tears in the walls of her home for that poor boy and his classmates, that wouldn't change his fate, or anyone else's. All Might was too ill to carry on, despite him attempting to deny it and refusing to follow the doctor's orders of bedrest. So there wasn't any way for him to continue as the number one hero and now the world was aware of this. They were all aware that their "invincible" hero was anything but.

Morale had lowered in the last month and a half from both civilians and students alike, after the fall of the number one hero and she had been at her wits in trying to boost the mood of the students, but hope was dwindling away. She feared it was only a matter of time before crime went up tenfold and a revolts started rearing their heads around Japan. Yes, everyone would most likely see this as a bad time for her to leave but she couldn't be here any longer. She finalized her decision days ago, and she was sticking to it. These helpless children, with their hearts shattered and dreams coming to a halt, needed someone else to fill this spot and she wasn't going to deny them that. And honestly, she didn't agree with all of the choices the school itself was making regarding the graduating class, and she would not stand by anymore and let this go on.

It was surreal to know that she's packing up the last of her supplies; her notice of retirement already placed on principal Nedzu's desk some two hours ago seems almost like a vivid dream, some reality far away from here. This was her home, for many years and now she would be moving on and leaving this life behind, letting someone else have their own chance to fill such a critical and tiresome position. Now, it was time for another hero to start a new chapter of their journey here, much as she had many years ago.

Recovery Girl sighed aloud to herself as she placed the newspaper cutout along with the last bottle of antiseptic in her briefcase. Her worn, rough with age and effort, tanned hands seem just to be going through the motions, forcing her to latch the clasp of the very last, white pristinely cushioned briefcase, laying the massive, sterile case on her now clear desk, weary of knocking off the old monitor of her computer. She couldn't shake the odd sensation of seeing the metal surface void of her jar of cute pens and pencils in many different animal themes and glittery prints, her box of colorful paperclips, the container of rainbow lollipops, and piles and piles of paperwork and health files on the students and teachers alike. Instead, it was just absent, lonely and cold.

She had to acknowledge the reality that she was trying to ignore and face head-on at the same time, two clashing and contradicting truths that she now couldn't stop. Recovery Girl cleared her throat, listening to the guttural sound echo off of the blank white walls and empty hospital equipment, trying in vain to ignore the pang in her heart. Without her sweet touch, the room lacked any warmth or familiarity; it lacked that motherly feel that she hoped to establish in this school as a haven for her children amongst such a rough life. Goodness, she expected that whoever took this room over after her would do the children some justice, give them that little light of hope and security that they all needed to succeed because she wouldn't be able to fulfill that duty anymore.

Now, that was gone, and all that was left was an empty, standard metal desk situated in the corner by the closed door, dark monitor on top and erased of all of her previous files. Two crisp sheets covered the vacant hospital beds, a plain white privacy curtain bunched up by the wall, dangling forgotten as it hung from the ceiling and several empty shelves and cream colored file cabinets, doors opened and empty and her hollow heart. With one last sweeping glance of the room, of what she told herself was to check for any forgotten supplies and not to mourn her retirement, that was it. She didn't have any other excuses for staying behind. The room was clear of her presences, wiped clean of any evidence of her even existing there. Like the chapter of her life was ripped away and crumpled up to be tossed aside and like a ghost, she would come and go in the night, leaving nothing behind.

This life was no more. The world she once loved and knew with opened eyes and eager intentions were finished. No, this was a new time that she wasn't a part of.

The feeling of pinpricks was overwhelming behind her sockets as the sterile white room blinded her, but she refused to let sadness take over and tears form. She shook her head, now was not the time to cry. She could cry later, but not now. She swallowed to keep herself from giving into the emotions she told herself she wouldn't, she was a strong woman after all, and reached out and taking the briefcase by the handle, tugging it off of the table to fall at her side. The weight of the medical supplies seemed to drag her small frame down, but in reality, she knew it was only about a few grams of medications and bandages, but at that moment it felt like she was lugging cement, not just in her hands but in her chest. Her stomach twisted into knots as she glanced over her shoulder one last time and then faced her gaze on the closed door.

It was time now, time to leave. She couldn't just stand here all day long like a lost puppy waiting for an owner that would never come; she had to vacate the area for the next employee to take over. The stinging of her eyes amplified ten-fold as she receded from the room, her free hand turning the doorknob and revealing to her the dark empty hallway and with careful steps and a heavy heart, she makes her way down the halls. Yes, she would miss this place dearly, all the boys and girls that were like children to her along with the new ones that came in every year.

Her gaze wandered the vacant halls and classrooms, taking in the building she knew and loved for most likely the last time, trying to burn the memories into her mind forever, every detail clear as day for her to look back on. Her steps were hobbled, this old body barely making it through the school. And by the time she's out of the building and standing at the gates, she has to will her tears not to come. She would not cry, after all, she can still watch them grow during the sports festival broadcasts. Recovery girl - no she was no longer recovery girl, she was Chiyo Shuzenji now - Chiyo looks up at the grand building one last time, a sad, watery smile wrinkling her features, glassy eyes bright with unshed emotion. She caught the chuckle in her throat, goodness; she was a bit ridiculous. She wasn't dying, after all, but it felt like it.

The words echo from her lips before she can stop them, flowing through the air and disappearing like the wind in a gentle whispering tone, almost as if she hadn't even said anything at all, a warmth flooding her veins and chest.

"Good luck, my children," before exiting the gate and heading towards her home, her thoughts filled with curiosity on who would take her place and what the new students would be like come time for the entrance exam.


This was his big break; the number one hero was now a ghost of his former self, all gaunt and sickly figure. The time was here, just waiting to be snatched. If he wanted to succeed, then it would be now. He had to act.

Everything was left in his hands, the fate of their future relied on how things played out here, and he'd be damned if he let it flit away into the night. He wasn't some amateur who didn't even know the basic knowledge of pick-pocketing. He was well past that, so he shouldn't mess this up. He would follow his role as the good boy he was. An amused smirk quipped up his lip, curling and bright, sharp, pearly white teeth bared to the dark, eyes ablaze with humor. Oh, good boy, he would be. They would be so proud of him, so proud. It's not like he could even mess something as thoughtless and straightforward as this up.

A light breeze carded through short, pitch black, slicked back locks, sending chills down his muscular form, but he clenched his teeth in refusal, both at moving or shivering but the nasty smirk stayed etched onto his features. His body was buzzing pleasantly, a familiar excitement coursing through his veins and lighting up his pale amber eyes, making them glow unearthly from behind the leaf-covered branches. He could hardly contain himself, almost like a child in a toy shop. There was just so much waiting for him; he had been waiting for such a moment. God, he was just so damn sick of petty crime. It was the same shit for weeks now, alternating between stealing cars for quick cash and robbing unsuspecting store owners. He was just so bored with it all. The same routine day in and day out. It was well past time for some real fun. He hadn't felt this alive, well, since the exposure of All Might himself.

Yozaki snickered to himself at the memory with a lazy grin. The soft sound floating out into the crisp night air, drowning in the busy city streets that surrounded him, car horns blaring and music playing in the distance, voices, so many talking and laughing at once, crowding him in like a playpen and swiftly masking his sounds, sealing him away into the darkness. Oh, the lovely memory of how the hero had looked so frail as if a simple breeze could make him collapse. Their hero, the nation's idol was now down for the count. His ears give a quick twitch; yes the number one hero was for the better part a complete zero now. With that hulking mass of muscle efficiently out of his way, Yozaki could spend more of his hours playing instead of running. His eyes, glowing with malice and glee, drift up to the prestigious building ahead of him.

"What better way to have a little fun than to dirty up such a pretty building?" Yozaki's tail begins to sway, and he chuckles to himself, then lazily moves to flip the switches on the backs of his red and gold gauntlets with the ease of practice.

Oh, he was going to have fun with this, his fingers curl and flex as the metal paw pads begin to heat. Yozaki looks up at the darkening sky from his perch on a broad tree branch, thick with leaves, noting that it should be half-past eight by now. He knew he was alone, the sidewalk outside of U.A High was somewhat vacant at this time of night. He couldn't detect any other movement or noises outside of his own raging breath in his ears. Most students and teachers alike had already gone home hours ago or turned into their dorms for the night, so this was an excellent time to commence with the operation.

His smirk widened until it becomes a twisted grin; just a few more seconds and his target would be walking home for the night. But God, this was just too easy. This predicament was almost downright laughable. This job was handcrafted for him, made to suit his tastes and there were no doubts that he could pull this off.

Almost as if on cue, a young woman with silky blue hair draped over her shoulders in medium length choppy strands, steps out from the gates, her head lowered in what looks like exhaustion. A long brown fitted trenchcoat is securely tied around her waist, brown flats clicking soundlessly out into the ticking nothingness.

The thing about this is that Yozaki doesn't know her name, and he doesn't care ever to learn it, but he recognizes the face- the pretty features and soft expressions. He has seen it hundreds of times, scrolling across the news on television, painted on billboards in the center of the city square, and hanging from skyscrapers, even flashed in pictures thumbtacked to a bulletin board. He knows her in the hunched way she carries herself, thin frame almost threatening to blow away in the night breeze, the shine of her bright blue strands in the trickle of lamplight. For once, he almost feels bad for her, almost. With the slump of her small shoulders and slow strides she makes, she looks worn down to the bone, barely making it outside of the school grounds on her own two feet. Just the sight of her makes his stomach churn in uncomfortable sloshes, and the urge to punch something is overwhelming. Pathetic, and she calls herself a hero? She's the one, and the only thing on his mind is when to pounce.

The woman makes the fatal mistake of pulling out her phone, most likely to text a family member or lover and Yozaki takes that opportunity the same way he would snatch candy from a child. She was asking for it. He knows its time, can tell without even sparing her a second glance. His body is humming and ready, quivering with excitement and thrill as he makes his way down from his hiding spot. Though he might be tall, with exceptional muscles and an intimidating stature, his body moves as slyly and careful as a feline. He twists himself over branches all while dodging any lights from the lamppost and buildings close by, shielding himself from view and away from prying eyes, keeping the advantage. He is quick and clever and not a sound is made as his bare feet hit the solid ground.

The next few minutes are a blur of speed and predicted movements as Yozaki leaps at her with the grace of a jungle cat. She doesn't notice him, not until it's too late and she doesn't make a sound. Just a small, horrified gasp leaves her red, glossy lips but is muffled by the paw he shoves against her face, muffling her screams, so she doesn't alert anyone standing close by. He works thoroughly, not sparing her a second to take the upper hand and skirt away from him. It is times like these he doesn't control himself - can't control his own movements. It's like someone else is taking over his body and mind and all he can do is numbly watch behind cruel yellow slits.

It's painful and long and seems to last the whole night, something he planned for and honestly he isn't that surprised. Her pale, long, spindly fingers, nails short and painted a light pink, alternate between clutching helplessly at her sides and grabbing ahold of his tight-fitting ebony sleeves, trying in vain to push him away. But they both know that it's too late, that her struggling, the frantic kicks and punches and thrashes are not getting her free. It's pitiful and pathetic, and Yozaki finds sick satisfaction from it. Yozaki almost jumps in surprise when something warm and wet touches his paw. What the hell is that? He snaps his eerie eyes up to her face just in time to see fat, crocodile tears falling in streams down from her wide brown eyes. Her eyes are glued to his face, refusing to blink as she continues to cry and for some odd reason he's annoyed by it. A wave of disgust washes over him, and he frowns. Where's this hero now? Where is the beautiful fairy, with the happy eyes and fierce attitude? Is she the one everyone fonds over? In retaliation, he tightens his hold on her body, harshly pressing the burning paw to her face and finally finds comfort when she screams into his hand.

And when he's done, he lays her down, carefully as one would a precious object, displaying her for the world to see on the bloodstained concrete below.

Her body is prettily laid out, blue hair fanning out around her head almost forming a wispy halo. Her skin is paler than usual, the tinge of pink on her marred face slowly draining away with what was left of her life and one thought circles his head, 'beautiful.' Now that she's not thrashing around and crying like a helpless child, she's actually pretty cute, he silently muses. Ahh, what a lovely day, a perfect little afternoon.

The smirk is still there, plastered on his face as he gives her a last once-over, admiring his work like any artist, before turning away, disappearing in the night. His job was done, of course, he added little extra touches here and there, his own flare, but it was finished, and he was proud. His smirk only grows when his ears perk up at the sound of a woman's blood-curdling scream from behind him, other frantic cries and voices echoing through the night.

The next morning, other faculty members are greeted with the gruesome sight, the dark, drenching, eye-opening reality of blood etched into the wall of U.A's gates, and no one can stop the sick feeling welling up in their stomachs. The red stains look as if they were painted on; some even shaped into paw marks and written in surprisingly neat letters made from the chilling liquid was a simple message: "the cat has come out to play"! A good hundred feet away, they find the body of the newest class 1-B teacher, her crumpled body covered in dozens of deep gouges and furrows. Most look as if they were done by claws but others have the tell-tale black charred edges of intense burns. However, the worse marks of all are the two obvious paw marks charred into the poor woman's mouth and nose as well as her neck; another message etched into her arm most likely done with claws as well. It read: "enjoy your gift, heroes," and stood out bright red against her stark white skin. Whoever had killed her had taken their twisted time tormenting the teacher before finishing her off with the burns to her face and neck, tying up the whole brutal mess with the demented messages.

Thousands of civilians and reporters crowd the sidewalks, pushing to get a front-row view of the horrific scene, straight out of a horror movie. Whispers, voices murmuring quietly engulfed the throng of people, but no one dared to raise their voice above a mere low tone, almost as if they were afraid to break this fragile glass that kept everyone from drowning. But the glass was already cracked, the putrid stench of blood an effective hammer against their fragile minds.

Cries were heard from all parts of the crowd, people, students, heroes, everyone, were sobbing out of horror or fear, even sadness, and uncertainty for the future of Japan, all mixed into one throbbing, boiling pit of despair flooding everyone's minds and taking over. It was as if cold water had been poured over each of their heads, waking them up to the outside world, to the truth. Everyone was shocked at the horrific display, scarred for the entirety of their lives. Not one hero looked to be calm or in their right mind. Mouths were dropped open and eyes glued to the crumpled, once courageous figure laid out in a heap on the dirty sidewalk, her clothes torn and ratty, blue hair matted in sticky redness and turning a disgusting maroon. And for once, the reporters just wordlessly stared, faces bleak and absent of color, mics clutched in their hands until their knuckles turned white.

She had no known enemies and yet there was her disfigured body, put on full display at U.A. for all the world to see like some cruel piece of artwork, the looming silhouette of the U.A. building, standing tall and proud just behind her body; a slap in the face. She was a model hero, a kind person with a heart of gold. She left no stone unturned when searching for a criminal and never let a single child cry out of pain or fear. And no one could figure out why this happened to her. Why, out of all of the people in Japan was she a victim? One who was so gentle and lovely, who opened her heart to the world and brought a sense of security to Japan's citizens. It was disgusting - cruel. Everyone was thinking the same thing, 'Why her?'

And that was the moment that everything broke, All Might was at the very end of his hero days and events like these, brutal murders of innocent people, were only the beginning. Was no one safe from this senseless violence? They had left their mark, made it known to the world that they were here and now, it was coming.