Sensory assault

Izuku stared at the abomination.

His clock thundered in the silent room, his muscles tense as his frustration filled body hummed with agitation, his leg bouncing incessantly as he sat at his small desk. His creation was horrid. Its arms were uneven, its face too angular, its body disproportionate. He snarled, tearing the page from his notebook and flinging it. He rested his head in his arms, exhausted bloodshot eyes glaring at the image on his laptop screen. He sighed.

It'd started so normally.

A new hero had debuted and as usual he'd gone online to add their entry into his notebook, from her quirk to the possible uses it's all been so normal and yet the moment he'd started to draw her came all the issues. Each attempt failed in its own way, failing to accurately capture their grace and confidence, failing to capture the power of their quirk, the grace of her movements, her curves, failing in every conceivable way leading to damnation. Glaring insurmountable imperfections compiled until he was unable to bear the sight of it. He slammed his pencil on the desk as his hand ran through his hair.

Fingers dug into his scalp, the soft hum from his laptop beginning to gr,w, morphing into an ethereal giggling that inflamed his ever present migraine into toe curling pain. He clenched his ears and shut out the voices.

"Shut. Up." he growled; his body tensing so hard that the pencil in his hand shattered.

He starred as blood seeped out from the wound in his hand, each beat of his heart sending another throb of stabbing pain into his mind until finally a droplet formed and fell onto his desk. For a moment the world was silent as he eyed the blood. The same color as her costume. It wouldn't take much, just a few drops of blood and it'd be perfect. A medium to elevate his art to heights unknown, the whispers urged him to try to explore the rich colors he could find; he just had to act on his urge he only needed to indulge.

His hands slammed onto the desk as he forced himself up onto his feet. He needed a break.

"I'm going for a run, mom."

Crisp spring wind crashed against his skin, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the heat of the sun's rays against his body; chest expanding as he took in the scents of Mustafu in the embrace of spring. Fresh Karaage and urban filth, distant hum of passing cars and the sweet melody of song birds taking flight.

He let out a deep breath before stepping forward, his body rising before falling as his feet rose and fell like hammers against concrete, each shockwave entering and dissipating inside his body in a cacophony of vibrations. His heightened senses made each sensation tetter on the edge of overstimulation, from the flexing and release of tendons in his legs; to the increasing drum beat of his heart, notes of pleasure melding together into one ecstasy inducing chorus. His breathing became heavy, muscles tired as their fibers broke down yet he only wanted more.

Since his meeting with the prince, his senses had become enhanced by orders of magnitude, colors had become more vibrant, flavors more appetizing, sounds deafening. Existence itself had become pure, unrefined bliss. Like an addict chasing a new high, each decadent indulgence driving him further and further into excess. It wasn't long after he met the Prince of Pleasure that his cravings began to sour into something deplorable.

But temptations could be harnessed, and Slanesh for all their unholy debauchery craved the pursuit of perfection be it in artistic or physical means and he quickly found himself training himself on a near daily basis.

He lost track of time but eventually found himself alone in a shopping district. Turning a corner, his nose perked and his stomach roared. With his eyes closed he tilted his head towards the row of shops across from him as the scent of convenience store karage filled his nostrilsThe glass doors automatically parted and cool artificial air crashed against his warm body, sending another trickle of pleasure down his spine. The attendant smiled, ushering the usual greeting as brightly colored foods, drinks and magazines blinded his eyes. He turned, not noticing the hand that reached out to brush along the metal shelving as he made his way to the drinks in the back. It was only after he grabbed his drink that he took a moment to look at his reflection.

His green curls were as wild and unkept, his patches of freckles now flushed with exertion. Everything was completely normal…save for the creature on his right shoulder.

It was no larger than a small well fed house cat. It sat hunched with its four legs resting on him large clawed forepaws gripping onto him, it's emaciated reptilian form stared ahead with crimson frog like eyes as it's face contorted into an unnatural hideous mockery of a human smile filled with long needle like teeth. Its tail curled and swung slowly with a scorpion-like tip near Izuku's left shoulder.

He blinked, confused. This was no diseased ridden spawn of Nurgle, nor was it a sensuous deviant of Slaanesh. No, this was something else , a denizen of the warp that had attached itself onto him.

But why?

The two stared frozen in that moment before Izuku slowly put the juice back, the demon reappearing in his reflection when the door closed once more. An invisible weightless companion that sat perched unmoving and uncaring on him. He backed away from the reflection slowly, its dagger sharp tail swishing with the motion as he finally willed his legs to move. He was rushing towards the door only to stop when a rattling inhuman whisper invaded his mind, a singular word that made his skin crawl and his stomach writhe.

"Danger."

He paused in front of the automatic door sliding , his ears perked. The sounds of squealing tires pierced the distance,screams of panic and a bellow of power. He turned,e , lunging his body at the cashier just as a shadow encompassed the exterior window.

"Get down!" He screamed as a car barreled through the window. Shattered Glass and shredded magazines torn through the air with a shotgun blast of force His body slammed against the cashier sending them both sprawling onto the floor. A car horn sounded, shattering his hearing as the car slid to a stop; its inertia killed by a web of wooden tendrils

He felt his blood boil as Death arms and Kamui Woods entered the store, minor panic giving way as they saw the two uninjured civilians. Would they remember him? The quirkless boy that threw himself as they stood uselessly to the side as Katsuki drowned in the filth of a slime villain. The boy they ridiculed and reprimanded.Death Arms even had the audacity to suggest a night in jail for recklessly endangering them all with his actions. Kamui Woods had been much "kinder" by comparison; recommending that he be blacklisted to all future schools by putting the incident in his record. So much for heroes.

Kamui stood before them, his helmed face obscured before bending down and offering his hands to them. "That was close, are the two of you alright?"

The cashier nodded dumbly, awestruck at the sight of the hero. Izuku would've been too but compared to the sight of The Grandfather or The Lord of Excess how could a mere mortal pull such awe from him? "Y-Yeah!" The man turned to Izuku with sheer gratitude on his face. "I have no idea how you saw that coming but thank you, thank you so much!" His offerings of thanks mottled as Izuku continued to stare down the two heroes.

"Well i'm glad you're both well then, the police will be here shortly to take your statements." Kamui said before turning to him. He froze as the hero eyed him, until finally he reached out putting a hand on his shoulder. "That's a fine quirk you have, being able to sense danger, I know plenty of heros that would love something like that. Just be more careful next time, young man." With a comforting squeeze the Professional Hero departed the scene.

Yet, all Izuku wanted to do was vomit. That filthy hypocrite; there were places in the Great Swamp cleaner than he. How dare they? The worst day of his life completely forgotten all because of his perceived quirk. How was this any different to when he charged to save Katsuki? They save a selfless, quirked teen risking life and limb to save another, not the scared quirkless child that shakily ran forward to save another. His fists clenched, teeth ground against each other as his blood boiled. He glanced down as rough reptilian scales brushed invisibly against his now white knuckles. How ironic that a demon would show him more compassion than the so-called "Heroes". He needs to be better than these pretenders :A champion.

Author notes: First off just wanna apologize for the delay I had no intention for it to be that long but sadly personal issues kept me from writing, and to top it off I think this was perhaps one of the most difficult chapters I've ever written. The intent of showing Slaanesh's influence without resorting to the usual means (sex drugs rock and roll) was surprisingly difficult to express, and the chapter went through quite a few rewrites from the ground up.