He's Got the Devil in Him.
Chapter 1: The Man Without Fear.
I spit the blood out of my mouth. Staring through my matted red hair at the man in the mirror, blazing silver eyes staring at myself in the mirror.
I wash my face over and over. Trying to get the sight to change. Trying to get the tirade I'm about to get from my father further away from me. My hands shake, my breath comes in fast. I can't go through that again. I can't.
I plunk down on the toilet, the door closed in front of me. How long until he comes raging home? How long until he scares Fuyumi? How long until he comes burning up the hallway to me? I bow my head between my legs and breathe out shaking.
"Shh… shhhh…" I shush myself, "It's okay, Ryusuke. It's okay."
I look up at the light shining above my head, "Please… please let it be okay." I hear the front door slide open from downstairs and my panic grows, I grab the sides of my head and plug my ears with the palms of my hands.
Eyes screw shut, darkness overtakes my sight and all I can feel are the clunking of my father's feet, the heat ratcheting up the closer he gets. I grit my teeth, bite the already bitten to hell inside of my cheek.
'This is it.' I think, 'This is how I die.'
The heavy footsteps open the gym door, go in there. I hear the muffled slide-chank of the weights as Dad loads them up. Dread creeps into me, slowly moving through my body like an electric current.
'God god god…' I think, 'Please not that…' I get to my feet and creep to the door, sliding it open. If I can just sneak out of the window and get to the station and get downtown I'll be safe. I have enough money in my shoes to buy me a room at a hotel at least until things die dow-
"Ryusuke. A word?" my father's voice rumbles to me, firelight glowing from his shoulders and face as he stands tall and mountainous near my door. I look down, make myself small as I shuffle towards him.
"Yes sir." I mutter.
As we walk towards the in-house gym, all I want to do is run. Just cut my losses and run and maybe make it out of this hellhole. The pristine traditional Japanese building hides the worst memories one could have.
Being the son of the number two ranked hero in the country shouldn't be hard. But… when you're quirkless it's like you just don't exist to him the same way your siblings do. I follow my father and he opens the gym door.
The bench press and barbell is waiting. Loaded to the brim with weight. So much weight that I swear my arms will break the second I lift it off the rest. Dad, no, Father. He looks at me with his bright azure eyes and motions to the bench.
"Sit down." he says.
I do so.
"Now, what happened for the past month, Ryusuke?" he asks. His voice taut like a bowstring, his flames heating up and making the room hotter. He knows I hate this.
"I got into… fights." I state, trying to avoid the shaking in my voice.
"Right! And their parents, oh their parents had issues. And when those issues are relayed to me, what happens?" he towers over me menacingly, leaning down with a cruel scowl. He's always so much bigger than me, stronger than me, no way can I ever bring him down.
I'm stuck here. Stuck. No matter what.
"You get pulled away from people that need he-help." I stutter a little at the end and he smiles.
"That's right." he says, "And when you get into fights, son, that reflects badly on me."
He pats the weight on his side, "And this represents what you do to us. What you did to your mother, your brothers, and your sister."
I lay back and grip the barbell tight, "Now I want you to lift it. Do ten repetitions and don't leave this room until you do." he sits down, pulling out a book and I tense. Slowly, I lift it off the rest, the weight pushing down on my arms hard, forcing them down against my chest.
"Guh!" I breathe out.
"Come on, Ryusuke!" he chides, "Lift it."
I struggle against the weight, all I can take is the burning sensation through my body. The anger and resentment also coursing through me. He reads.
"Do you feel it? That's the weight you put on this family. Because of you, I have to waste my perfect record, because of you Fuyumi has another mouth to feed, because of you your mother left us."
I hiss through my teeth, 'No. No. Mom didn't leave.' I think as I push hard against the weight, lifting it a little, 'No, Fuyumi doesn't resent me.' My arms scream in pain and my legs protest as I lift the bar, 'I won't… I won't let you…'
I push more, harder, lifting it over the bench, into the air, and bringing it back down with a breath out. But at that moment, it stuck on me. He watches me with little care in his eyes. All I want is to push more, to lift more, to show him that I wasn't scared of him and that I was stronger than he ever thought.
I push more, staying quiet, grunting only at the pain and still pushing. I don't care anymore. I keep going, two, three, four and five. Six, seven, eight and nine. Arms pushing and pushing, The weight getting lighter as I go.
On the tenth rep is when I can't do it anymore. The weight presses down on my chest and I can't even lift it off. I strain with sweat pouring down my brow. I can't push myself this far! It's only… only…
The weight lifts and my father looms over me. Eyes burning into my soul and he forces me back to my feet, my body aching and burning, pulling raw and strained muscle along with it. He presses me into the wall.
"You only live because I say so," he snarls, "I never wanted you. You're angry, your actions reflect on me and they reflect poorly. Control yourself!"
There's a red-hot feeling of something in my chest, rage. Anger. Sadness. All of it just floods me with a sick sense of bravery. No, something different. I break away from my father, falling to my knees, screaming.
A loud, primal sound that rips from my throat. I won't let him destroy me. I won't let him beat me. All I do is scream, lay there and scream. My father lets me go and I go back to my room, lurching towards it.
All I want is to break something. Just anything to make me feel something different. But I turn out of the breezeway, going towards the street. I had just grabbed a bag from my room and left.
I put on the suit, something of a graduation present from my teacher. I pull on the red and black body armor and the cowl clicks on with the chinstrap coming around and clicking secure too. I stand with the red lenses making the world tinted crimson.
"So you wanna be a vigilante? Rule One, kid, be smart."
I take a running start and leap off the roof, going from building to building. My aches and pains are dull and lifeless. All I want to do is help people. I don't need a quirk to do that. I land near the usual spot, listening and closing my eyes, that's when I hear it.
Frightened screams, over in the East. I leap into action and get over there trying to cover more and more ground. Just to land near the scene. A girl no older than I am is pinned down in a back alley by a massive man, muscles on muscles, tearing off her dress like nothing.
"Shhhshshshshsh… there's nothing wrong with this, girlie!" he shushes her.
"Someone, help me!" the girl screams, the dim lighting not showing her features but I can tell she's shaking and scared.
I land, beating my sticks on the wall, the guy turns. His eyes widen and he backs up, arms spread over the girl, almost as if he's trying to protect the girl he was about to violate. Without a single second to lose I rush him, my sticks blitzing across his chin, the sticks get caught there.
"Gahahaha! Seriously, Devil?! You really shoulda not rushed m-"
"Rule two, shut them the hell up."
I drive my foot into his cheek, dislodging my gooey sticks. All I gotta do is knock this guy out. Everyone with a quirk has a weakness, and I exploit those weaknesses. That's the key. Dad overheats, this guy is just really slick and gooey. But before I could snatch them up he lashes his slime around them and puts them back.
He grabs me and lashes me, my side flares in pain as I let out a loud gasping yell. In seconds he's on me, pummeling me. I try to weave backward but I must've telegraphed them too much.
He lashes and lashes, his goopy body like leather cords, my suit taking the brunt of all of it, but I kick him hard with all my strength, closing the distance with more. He slams against the wall, my sticks flying out of him.
I grab my sticks again, even if they just were inside this dude, I had a feeling I could win this. The girl behind him lashes out some green vines from her hair and grabs onto me, yanking me away from the Gooey Guy.
The Gooey Guy whirls around and tries to advance on me again.
I take that opportunity to get him from the front, the bones are still solid but the flesh is viscous and hard to grapple. I ram him into the wall with my body and he shudders from the impact. I get close to his ear. My breath fogs in the storming air. My entire body lit up in pain like a fire.
"So, you think you can just hurt a girl and not expect a hero to save them?" I growl, "Touch another girl again and I will know. I will make it hurt even more next time." The guy runs off and I watch him run right to a police station.
I turn and the girl I saved is covering herself with a shawl. Her dark green eyes take in my costume and she cowers into the alleyway's back wall. But I walk forward. Gasping and halting, shuffling gently to not hurt myself even more.
"Hey." I greet. My voice is thick and ragged, but she clasps her hands tightly and yells.
"Ge… get away from me, you devil!" I stop and sigh.
"Oh right, my mask. It's okay now. I won't hurt you." The moonlight goes behind a heavy thundercloud and rain pours down as I see the girl shudder in the cooling night air. I hear her heartbeat slow down as I realize something.
Did I really have a quirk? Normally I would probably be more hurt, but maybe my training really did sharpen my senses? I smile and the girl still cowers until I reach up and remove my helmet, feeling the rain hit my skin, the sound not deafening but soft and dripping.
The rain is cold, each droplet rolling off me in gentle waves. I smell the fear, the worry. Her gentle shock.
The girl steps forward lightly and I face her. Her hair whispers and writhes, the plant sounds singing softly in my ears. Her lips upturn into a smile, her delicate hands clasp together, closing around the shawl's gap.
"Thank you." she says, "My name is… is Ibara Shiozaki, Mr. Daredevil."
"Got it. Do you need me to walk you home?" I ask. Ibara considers her options as I offer her my hand. She takes it and I lead her out of the alleyway towards the station. But she squeezes my hand when I try to walk away.
"Shiozaki. I can't go in there." I bite through gritted teeth at the pain in my sides and she huddles close.
"I'm… I'm scared." she mutters, "Can you go in with me, please?" I try to rationalize it, I'm a vigilante. I can't be seen by cops, I'll be arrested. But at the same time she needs me. She needs me.
I squeeze her hand, "Shiozaki, I'll be right here. Or, better yet…" I dig around in my pants pocket, coming out with a small pocket stone, a worry stone I rub when I feel nervous.
"Here. Take this. When you get out I'll walk you home, deal?" I see her think even more, but she nods.
"Okay." she relents and walks towards the door as I clamber up to the roof. She goes to the front desk, even over the rain and thunder, and lightning. As long as I close my eyes and focus on her, I can hear her.
She's not so nervous, answering their questions serenely, her beautiful voice ringing out to me like a bell. The pain burns in my body but I still keep a vigil. It's what I've done every night since I started my vigilante work.
Knowing that my father could find out about this gives me pause every night. Makes me second guess why I do this. But the thing is… I do this for people like Shiozaki. I do this because I'm powerless without the suit.
But…
Just as Shiozaki was coming out of the station after her interview with the officers just as starved for action as I was, I heard something five miles away, a man screaming. I look down at Shiozaki.
"Keep the stone. I have to go." I state, "Stick to the well lit sections of town." I run off the roof in that direction, hearing her take out the stone, rubbing it.
"Thank you…" I hear her voice echo. I take off over the rooftops, swinging my way down towards the grubbier parts of the city. What I came upon was a grisly scene. The rain mixes with the red as a girl laps up what's left.
The lightning above flashes and thunder booms, getting a better look at my opponent.
I wish I didn't. The girl is pretty, her shining golden eyes full of life. Her tan cardigan and golden hair smeared with crimson. Cheeks red and hair messy and wet in the rain. The man is dead but she's enjoying the fact he died.
Giggling and blushing, cuddling it like it was her boyfriend. The boiling hot rage begins in me. Lighting yet another fire in me. All I want is to stop this girl.
My sticks slide out, and all I want to do is rage. But she gets to her feet, I rush her from behind with my sticks lashing at her, They get blocked by knives, being slammed back with her head. She turns and grins.
"Ooh… you're new~!" she coos, her messy hair falling into her face, I notice a heavy metallic smell coming from her face. It's not just her victim's blood. It's the Glasgow smile. All I can do is hope that she doesn't decide to make this a dynamic.
The whoosh of knives come at me and I bat them out of the way, her hands full of them and slashing at me with a vengeance. Carving gashes into me but my suit protects me. Mostly. A gash opens on my cheek, spilling hot blood down it.
I grit my teeth, feeling the rush of wind as she closes in on me. I focus on the swings of the knives, batting them away with my sticks. I just focus on trying to overpower her with my strikes. The rain makes my hearing almost null and void, so I focus on feeling rather than seeing and hearing and smelling.
I feel more slashes, the pain blinding and the rage coming through my strikes. Harder and faster than before. My body is screaming for rest but this girl won't stop. So I won't. My sticks leave my hands and I slam her back with my head.
Flipping over her, I sweep her from behind and grab one of her knives, stabbing it near her head. She lets out a gleeful laugh.
"What's so funny?" I growl.
"It's just the fact you're so cute with so much red!" she reaches up and licks the blood from my cheek, "Mm…" she coos before throwing me off. My body aches and the sharp pain of the cuts makes my head spin.
She smiles, leaning down and kissing me.
"See you around, Daredevil~!" she laughs, practically skipping away. I have no more energy to follow her or pursue anyone. My muscles yank stiff and unforgiving. I get up and lurch my way back home.
I had a long night.
My sister is the first person to see me. I changed out of my suit so she wouldn't bat an eye at that, but she gasps at the gashes on my sides and cheek.
"What happened?!" Fuyumi exclaims, her blue eyes full of worry as she lightly touches the gash, the cooling touch soothes the pain a little.
"I was out…" I huff.
"Yeah, I'll say…" she sighs, "Come on, let's get you patched up." I hold her hand and she guides me back to our bathroom. The thing is, Dad has an entire half of the house to himself and my older twin, Shoto.
Fuyumi brushes my red hair out of my eyes, "Oh Ryu…" she sighs, "I know it's hard."
"Listen, I need this." I answer, "I need to feel useful, or at least making things better for other people. Without me a girl would've been…" Fuyumi pulls the stitch shut and I wince.
"Ryusuke, you're already useful enough." she states, "You and Natsuo need to stop being so hard on yourselves."
"I…" I start, before closing my eyes, "I know. Sorry." I hear something shift over on Dad's side of the house and tense, flinching.
"Oh. He punished you for yesterday, right?" Fuyumi cranks up her quirk, my aching body and painful wounds soothing. I hiss a little and remember why I did this in the first place.
I go flying back, smacked away from my brother's side. The heat scathing me and the yell deafening.
"YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE HERE!" My father looms above me with his fists clenched, azure eyes burning holes in me. I ran away that night. I don't know if I ever had a goal in mind but I remember what I packed.
A bunch of leftovers still in their containers, some clothes, and one comic book.
Daredevil: The Man Without Fear. I related to Matt Murdock. Seeing how I had an eerily similar quirk to the senses he got from the chemicals. I rode the train and sat, eating and reading. There wasn't much else I could do.
Where could I go? I read on, lost in the pages of that same origin again and again. A little boy with leftovers and clothes. Riding a train that seemed to go on forever. When I got off I wasn't sure where I was.
Everything was unfamiliar. And I remember crying. I don't know why I didn't stop running around. Looking for someone. Looking for the white hair and the worried but gentle tone of my mom.
I wanted her back. That's why I left. I wanted to find her and live with her. Matt made me brave. That I could be The Man Without Fear. And because I didn't have the right quirk my father hurt me over and over.
The weightlifting, the mile runs, everything.
I remember plunking down on a bench, curling into a little ball and sobbing my eyes out. I wanted my mom and I wanted to go where she went. It wasn't fair. But that's when I noticed someone sitting next to me.
He's big with a trench coat and a mask, a pair of knuckles still on his hands. He pockets them with a soft tinkling noise. He looks at me. He takes off his mask and I see a jagged scar and graying dark hair. He smiles.
"Your favorite hero is Daredevil?" he asks.
"Mm…" I nod with a grunt.
"Batman's my favorite, kid." he states with a smirk. I dry my tears and gather my courage. I turn to him.
"Are you a hero, mister?" I squeak.
The man chuckles, "In a sense,"
I gasp, "Wow… so you're like Daredevil?"
He nods and I feel warm deep down. Someone finally understands everything. I remember that Knuckleduster sat with me for the rest of the night, I don't remember if I fell asleep, but he was more of a hero than my dad ever was.
And he made me who I am today.
Daredevil, the Man Without Fear.