2. BREAK
Midoriya Inko paced worried by her front door. She was anxious, and it was turning into fear. Call her paranoid if you must, but her dear son Izuku had never been later home than seven before. Something must've happened. Something she didn't want to think of.
Why isn't he calling? She was holding her cell phone in her hands, Did he forget to charge it? Did he break it? Lose it?
Katsuki-kun had already returned from school hours ago. And Izuku had never been with any other group of friends. What could have possibly happened? As the alarm in her phone rang for dinnertime, she realized that something was terribly, terribly wrong.
And so she kicked off her indoor slippers and stepped into outdoor ones, running out of her house, not bothering to lock the door as she looked around the street.
No sign of her child.
She ran to the Bakugous, pressing the doorbell quickly. Her hand shaking in a panic, she pressed it twice.
An annoyed woman dressed in a spaghetti strapped top and shorts opened the door, yelling "Who the fuck?!", scratching her head and glaring at the intruder. Upon noticing who it was, she put on a calmed, friendlier face, "Oh, Inko!" she called, "What brings you?"
"Uhm, I'm sorry to disturb," the Midoriyas were awkward people that held a wimpy touch toward the confident, bright Bakugous, and the fact didn't change at all through the generations. "But have you seen my Izuku? It's getting late, and he hasn't returned yet..."
"Izuku?" Bakugou Mitsuki said, "Didn't he come home with Katsuki as always?"
That was a very obvious question, but it was just that ridiculous of a situation. Izuku, unlike her son Katsuki was a very good and obedient child. He was a dear, a particularly wimpy and awkward and clumsy one. Him coming home late was a one in a million chance in the world, much less coming home late without Katsuki.
Something was very worrying here.
And so she turned to her house, yelling at the top of her lungs, "HEY! Katsuki! KATSUKI!"
"CHRIST, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?" came the irritated complain from the only son of the household.
"YOU SEEN IZUKU AROUND?" the mom hollered back.
"HOW THE FUCK WOULD I KNOW WHERE DEKU IS?!" and cue the slamming doors.
"QUIT FUCKING SWEARING!" Bakugou Mitsuki shouted angrily.
She sighed. Someday, she was going to teach that son some freaking manners. But she turned to her old friend, concern ridden on her face. "That's the story, I'm sorry it's not much help. Have you called the school?" she suggested.
Midoriya Inko nodded. "They said that after he left the classroom, no one knows where he's gone." she said sadly, her head hanging in worry, "Hey, do you think something dangerous happened?" Inko was always a worrywart, but this was actually making Mitsuki feel unsettled.
"Gimme a second, Inko." She reached for a cardigan and stepped into proper shoes. "KATSUKI! I'M HEADED OUT FOR A BIT! WATCH THE HOUSE!" She heard no answer, but left the house anyway. She gave Inko a wide, toothy grin. "Let's look around for a bit,okay?"
Meanwhile, Bakugou Katsuki was lying on his bed, pretending to sleep. His eyes were closed, but something was very disquieting about the situation. Deku hasn't gone home yet. As far as he would know, this was a first.
Katsuki may be a horribly rash and overconfident punk (not that he would ever admit to that, of course) but he has never been home late even once without prior informing his parents. It wasn't that Katsuki was trying to be a good child or anything, he just believed that was what everyone did. Despite his appearance, Katsuki was a smart child. He knew a lot of what was wrong or right.
But Deku? That wimp wouldn't even dare to stay out late, whether he informed his mother or not.
He thought back to the events of this morning. When he'd proudly declared his aim to head to U.A, the teacher had broken his haughty spirit by breaking in the news that Deku, of all people, was planning for U.A as well.
How dare he.
He had shoved Deku around harder than usual after that, and then went home ahead. It wasn't anything different. This happened a lot. Katsuki could compare Deku to an annoying little cockroach. After all, no matter how badly it's tossed around, it won't stop getting up.
(Katsuki wouldn't admit this, but he, perhaps, acknowledged this part of Deku. It was a sort of strength that the boy undeniably had-the strength to stand back up no matter what. It was a strength not many could have, not many could bear, and not many liked.)
It was vexing to think that something happened to Deku after he did that.
It made him feel really-
Really-
He furiously got up from his bed, furiously sat down on his chair and furiously began doing his homework, yelling something about FUCK THIS HOMEWORK DAMMIT over and over again. He was, furiously, worried.
-Really Guilty.
His eyes opened.
A room. The only light that he could find was shining neon green. The room, dimly lit, seemed a tad gloomy in the strange light. Test tubes, he saw. Measuring cylinders, beakers, syringes. Was this a laboratory?
A single desk and a single chair was in the room. The chair was made of oak wood, worn by age as the nails and screws that held it together were rusted but firm. Countless indecipherable notes was scattered over the whole of the table, and that was what his eyes landed on. Unconsciously, and by some strange instinct, he tried to decipher the weird jargon.
I'm too far away, he realized, I should get a little closer-
It took him a moment to understand himself. He was trying to get closer, right? He was struck with a little confusion.
Oh, he found out a second later, my limbs aren't moving... No, he corrected himself, my whole body isn't moving.
Not even his head could move. Only his eyes were in proper working condition, and so they drifted to where he knows his arms and legs were. His sight could reach far enough, but he noticed a medical, maybe, mask over his face. A mask that seemed to be proving oxygen for his lungs.
It soon dawned upon him that the room wasn't green in the first place. He was inside a cylindrical tube, filled to the brim with a neon green liquid.
The single door in the room opened. He couldn't catch the face of the man, but he was an older, much taller man. The man walked closer, and put a hand on the glass of the cylindrical tube. Another person wandered close behind. A sickly thin man, who strangely had a detached hand on various parts of his body. The second man was a little younger than the first, he guessed.
He saw the first man's mouth move, but heard no voice.
The water in the cylindrical tube began to drain away, and he felt his body slump against the back of the cylinder, something he guessed were shackles at his shoulders and knees holding him up. The front of the cylindrical tube opened like a door, and he could finally see properly.
And he met eyes with a man that had no face. Oddly, the boy did not find it weird. He found it intriguing, even. Interesting. Cool. The shackles that held him up were opened, and the boy found himself falling. The man caught him with one arm, propping the boy up on his feet.
The boy stood up with some difficulty. His limbs mild ly remember how to function. He hadn't been in that tube thing for very long, he deduced.
"I think it's a success." the other man spoke up, sitting on the chair lazily, the weird hand still on his face.
"It is." the first man agreed.
The boy merely tilted his head in confusion, still trying to analyze the first man completely. His upper face was full of scar tissue, all through his eyes, nose and ears. How does he hear? See? Breathe? Oh, the tubes all over his body must mean something. Are they to help him breathe?
"Can you talk?" the second man asked.
The boy opened his mouth. He tried making out a vowel. He was met with a very dry throat, and coughed. But when he tried humming out a low note, he could, so his vocal chords were working. He was handed a glass of water, and he drank.
"Y-Yeah..." after many attempts, he manged to force out the simplest single-syllable word he could think of.
The two seemed to meet eyes -the boy had no idea. He couldn't see the second man's face and the first man had no eyes- and turned back to the boy with a little more interest.
"Do you remember who you are?" the second man asked again.
This made the boy stop. Who am I? He thought. He was slightly confused. Why didn't he know who he was? Ah, right. "...Deku..." he said, as if recalling a very, very distant memory. "My name is... Deku."
(Memory loss? Why am I experiencing memory loss?)
Seemingly satisfied with the answer, the first man pulled his lips into a grin-a strangely creepy and evil grin. "It's a success, I see."
"Suc-cess?" Deku asked, pronouncing the syllables as if it was an unknown word, which it isn't.
"What the last thing you remember?" the second man asked the boy.
What's the last thing I remember? he had to take a moment again to think. "Falling." he said, lesser hesitation, "Dying."
(Suicide, the boy managed to remember. Then is this memory loss due to shock?)
"Exactly." the second man started again, "To be simple, you died." Deku was even more confused now. "And then, Sensei picked you up and decided to use you for an experiment." he explained. "Congratulations, you're a successful experiment."
The man's voice was husky, low, and difficult to catch, but Deku could hear it. And he didn't know what to feel. What emotion should be surging up at this moment. There was no fear, (what was fear again?), there was no anger, (anger? what's that?), he didn't feel wary or suspicions towards the two.
He was receiving 'information', and he sucked it all in like a sponge.
"Deku, was it? You're Quirkless, aren't you?" the first man spoke again. "You shall refer to me as Sensei."
Deku nodded.
I shall refer to this man as Sensei.
"And he," he pointed to the second man, "Is Shigaraki Tomura."
That man is named Shigaraki Tomura.
"From now on, you belong to the villain organization."
Villain...Organization?
Deku perked up. "Villain?" he asked. "Why?"
Sensei smirked. He put a hand on Deku's head. "You are henceforth, a tool I created." he said, "Because I gave you a quirk, and I gave you life. I am literally your father." he said in a joking manner, "And I am a villain. You have no right to refuse."
"Quirk?" he seemed to brighten up at that. Unbeknownst to him, the colour in his eyes immediately returned, turning into the bright, childlike eyes he once had, "A quirk?" I have a quirk?
"I see you're happy about it." Sensei chuckled lowly, "As I was saying-" he returned to topic, "You now belong to the villain organization."
I have a quirk.
I belong to them now.
"I don't really remember," he spoke up hesitantly, biting his lip before parting them to speak again, "But I know that I was a useless person that couldn't do anything." he said. "Are you sure you want me in your organization?"
"Of course." Sensei said without hesitation. "We are villains, the trash and scum of society." he told the boy. "When you jumped from the roof, did a hero save you? No, it was I, a villain, who saved you. Heroes aren't necessary in this world. For us villains, freedom is what rules us. Not the heroes, not the government, not the rules."
"Well, we gave you a quirk that we needed to strengthen our arsenal." Shigaraki Tomura spoke up, "it has nothing strength-based. That's why you're fine. A brainy former hero fanboy was probably the perfect choice." And upon saying that, he raised up a notebook that read For the Future: Hero Analysis Book 13.
I used to love heroes? it came to him as a surprise. Along with the details of his identity, he had lost all interest of his old dreams. It felt as if he was now a different person. Deku wondered inquiringly, they picked me, despite knowing I was a hero fanboy- What kind of quirk was he given? What kind of quirk would negate all that hero-loving self and turn him into something the villains could use?
And Deku noticed he was smiling. He felt something- an emotion known as joy. He was happy that he had been acknowledged for something, that he was picked to be of use to these people. He was excited to be, not a hero, but a villain. He felt unimaginably thankful that he was given a chance to be, not the one who was a biological waste of space, but someone that would prove helpful, someone that was needed by them-these villains.
"Can I...really be useful?" he asked.
"Well, depends on if you meet our expectations." Shigaraki Tomura mumbled.
Deku beamed brightly. Almost too happily. After all, he was overjoyed.
Seeking that, Sensei grinned. "Allow me to enlighten you regarding the quirk I gave you, Hyperthymesia."
Quirk: Hyperthymesia
The user possesses an extremely detailed autobiographical memory.