Ah-HAH! You thought I was DEAD! Well, PSYCH! I am very much alive. And you know what, I told you I'd finish the story, even if it took me forever! This is obviously your fault for not trusting me, smh. (Just kidding—I don't blame you one bit.)
Well, today is not the end of the story, obviously. There's still a lot more to go. But here I present to you . . . the bloodiest chapter yet. All the other content warnings in the description apply as well, in case you forgot.
Alright, enough chatter, let's get into it!
—
"Ingenium . . . Attacked late last week by Hero Killer: Stain . . . in Hosu . . ." The words played through Izuku's mind, and his hands tightened their grip on his backpack instinctively as he scowled at the ground, a twinge of pain surging through him at the action.
I can't believe this! Izuku seethed quietly, his steps almost silent on the pavement. The chatter around him informed him he had entered UA's grounds, but he didn't look up, relying on his instincts to guide him to his class. This is going to spell out trouble for me, I can feel it. Gah, why didn't he listen to me?
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he glanced around, seeing Ida enter the school beside him, wearing a raincoat. His face was drawn in a glower, and he didn't notice Izuku as he strode past. Izuku blinked at the sight before turning his face up to the cloudy sky. How long as it been raining?
"Midoryia!" someone yelled behind him, and he turned, surprised to see Shoto Todoroki running toward him, umbrella in hand. "What are you doing? Where is your umbrella?" He held his umbrella out to cover Izuku from the rain, his breath coming fast. Had he run toward him the second he saw him? Why? It's not like they were friends.
"He probably didn't realize it was raining," a droning voice said from Izuku's left, and he swiveled to see Shinso standing beside him, also holding an umbrella above Izuku's head.
Izuku blinked at the two of them, both using their umbrellas to cover him from the rain, ignoring the fact that he was already soaking wet. Before he could even think to comment on how useless this all was, a third umbrella joined them, and he glanced down at Uraraka, who beamed.
"Hey guys!" she greeted, bumping the other two's umbrellas lightly. "Did Izuku forget his umbrella?"
"Sure seems that way," Shinso remarked.
"Uraraka, I didn't realize you knew Midoryia too," Todoroki added, his calm eyes fixed on his classmate.
"I met Izuku during the Entrance Exam," Uraraka explained.
This is so bizarre. All of these people, here to lend me their support . . . Izuku glanced between the three faces, noting their relaxed demeanors, a stark contrast to his own internal turmoil. Where were you all when I actually needed you? Pain lanced up his spine, and he bared his teeth in a grimace, shoving the thought back into the darkness where it belonged.
"We need to go check on Ida," Izuku said, interrupting whatever conversation they had going on. "I just saw him go inside. Come on."
The other three exchanged glances but followed him closely into the locker room, where they met Ida taking off his raincoat at his locker.
"Ida, how are—" Izuku began, walking toward him with a hand extended.
"If it's about my brother, there's nothing to worry about." Ida turned around quickly and smiled at them all. "Everything's going to be just fine." He exited the room almost before he even finished the sentence, not allowing any other words to fill the space.
Izuku stared after him as Todoroki and Uraraka shared some words, his eyebrows furrowed. He recognized the look in Ida's eyes. No, it was more than that. He recognized his expression, the way he carried himself, and the disheveled appearance he tried to hide behind his raincoat.
I, more than anyone, can recognize a burning desire for revenge. Izuku's eyes narrowed. Ida, if you choose this . . . Izuku sighed and turned back to his other friends, exchanging his shoes for his school pair. Oh, well. He wasn't all that useful anyway. I just hope it doesn't effect me.
—
Izuku listened to Uraraka's inane chatter as they walked, his fingers dully scratching his chin. Ida had mysteriously disappeared after school that afternoon, nor had he been present for lunch. Uraraka hadn't seemed to notice, instead chatting about her hero name and her upcoming internship. As much as Izuku was intrigued by the idea, he couldn't pay much attention to her words. He had far more important things to worry about.
I'm not sure why, but I think . . . if I don't intervene, this might . . . At the very least, I want to know what happened. His mind made up, Izuku dropped his hand from his face and turned his full attention to Uraraka.
"Do you know where Ida took his internship?" Izuku asked when there was a lull in the conversation.
"Yeah, I think it was Normal Hero: Manual. I believe he's stationed in Hosu."
Izuku's lips thinned, and he tilted his head to hide it. "Well, I hope you have fun during your internship. For now, I've gotta go this way." He pointed down the street in the opposite direction of where she was headed, and Uraraka waved goodbye, a happy smile adorning her face. Izuku waved as well, walking backward until she disappeared from view.
Once she was well out of ear-shot, he pulled out his burner phone and texted the only number in the contacts, unsurprised to see the answering text come in almost immediately. Throwing the phone to the ground with enough force to shatter it, Izuku grumbled to himself as he changed directions toward the meeting-place. As he walked, he retrieved his costume from his backpack and slipped it on, assuming his villain persona with ease.
Sometime later, he arrived at his destination and began to climb the building before him, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed.
He always picks the worst spots. Why can't we meet on the ground for once? His hand cramped and slipped from its place, and he muttered under his breath as he barely caught himself from falling ten feet onto the concrete. I swear he does this on purpose.
"Very good, Izuku," his master crowed as Izuku's feet alighted on the rooftops behind him. "I almost couldn't hear your approach." He didn't turn to face Izuku, and the soft sound of a knife scraping against a sharpening stone filled the air.
Izuku studied the back of the man's head for a moment, taking in his low crouch, his billowing scarf, and his hair, which was, as always, in complete disarray. All of it gave the impression of instability—of a maniac gone rogue. Under normal circumstances, he was a man to be avoided, or even feared, but to Izuku, he was much more than that. He wasn't just some psychopath or fanatic, no, to Izuku he was his master. Though they didn't always agree, through training they became of one mind, and that one mind was filled with only one thought: violence.
Something in his stomach eased, and Izuku smiled, suddenly forgetting his previous indignation. "Almost? I'll need to work on that."
The man chuckled before standing and turning to face him. Although he didn't quite straighten, the tops of his shoulders still caved inward, he still towered over Izuku. He tucked the knife into one of his many scabbards, his red eyes gleaming. "I haven't seen you for some time, Izuku. Come to train?"
"Y—" Izuku started automatically before shaking his head, the painful throb of his hands bringing him back to reality. "No, I can't. My hands were injured during the Sports Festival."
The man laughed, throwing back his head as his shoulders shook with mirth. "Ah, so that was you, Izuku. I thought I recognized those moves." He wiped at his face, and Izuku noticed the cloth that normally covered his eyes was missing. Izuku took off his mask in a quick, fluid motion to match his master's openness. "I assume you got what you wanted?" his master asked, his tone deepening as he asked the question.
A large grin overtook Izuku's face before he could stop it. "Yes, master, I did." He chuckled lightly and shook his head, trying to contain his mirth in front of his mentor. Even though it had been almost three days since the Sports Festival, he still couldn't shake the giddiness Bakugo's defeat brought him. "It went better than I had planned."
His master's face split into a wild grin, and his eyes glinted with pride as he brought his hands together in a loud clap. "As expected!" he exclaimed. "You truly were spectacular."
A tingle went down Izuku's spine at the praise, and he subconsciously straightened his back. A warmth he didn't quite understand stabbed at his chest, and he pressed a hand to his heart in surprise. "Th-Thank you, Master," Izuku stuttered, caught off guard.
The man dipped his head before glancing back toward the night sky, his grin fading as if in anticipation. "Well, Izuku, why have you called me here?"
"Right." Dread crawled up his spine, replacing the strange warmth, and Izuku shifted his stance suddenly remembering why he was here. "Mast—" Izuku cut himself off and took a moment to breathe as he gathered his thoughts. That's right. Tonight, I'm not here as his apprentice.
"Stain. I told you not to touch Ingenium."
—
They were arguing. Izuku wasn't sure of the exact words, but he could guess as the gist of it. He had heard it all a million time before, after all. His eyes lazily took in the scene from his seat at the bar. His master had pinned Shigaraki to the floor with a sword through his shoulder, preaching his disdain to the petulant teen.
I knew they wouldn't get along. They're complete opposites. Izuku turned his head away and glared at the wall, his mind turning back to his earlier interaction with Stain.
"You're the one who recommended Ingenium, Izuku."
"Yes, but then I told you to forget about it. Why didn't you listen to me? Do you have any idea how much trouble this could cause me?"
"That's exactly the point." Stain sighed with disappointment, turning his body away from Izuku, and pain splintered into Izuku's heart. "You rescinded your recommendation because you became friends with his brother, not because Ingenium was worthy of being spared."
"I never said that," Izuku shot back, taking a step forward, desperation clawing at his throat.
"Izuku," Stain answered coldly, his eyes narrowing. Izuku froze, cold fear dripping down his spine. "You should never let your personal feelings get in the way of your convictions."
That makes no sense, Izuku thought, but he couldn't get the words out of his mouth, his body still frozen with guttural terror. What are convictions if not feelings?
"Besides, I left him alive, didn't I?" Stain shrugged, dismissing the argument entirely with one fluid motion. "I hope your friend will turn out better than his brother."
And that had been that. Izuku grunted in frustration, scowling. After all this time, I cannot believe that still works on me! But Izuku knew his master was right. He had recommended against killing Ingenium because it would inconvenience him personally, not because he believed him to be a true hero. That in and of itself betrayed Stain's core principles. In truth, Izuku was lucky to have made it out of that encounter alive, much less with his position as Stain's apprentice intact.
He still believes in me, even after I betrayed him. I guess I should be grateful for that. Izukyushrugged and turned back to the conflict in time to see Shigaraki turn one of Stain's knives into dust. I wonder why Shigaraki asked me to bring him here if he was just going to fight with him? What a waste of time. Izuku rolled his eyes and glanced toward the computer through which All For One was watching. I wonder what he's thinking.
Kurogiri opened a portal, and Stain stepped through, presumably back to Hosu. He always kills four heroes in every city. I suppose he has three more left to go, Izuku thought as he stood from his seat. I wonder who he will choose . . . He's yet to go through all my recommendations. Izuku took a moment to nod toward All For One's computer before following Stain through the portal and back onto the roof they had come from.
Shigaraki and Kurogiri followed, and they exchanged a few more words. Izuku watched the exchange carefully, recognizing the perfectly practiced spiel his master gave out over and over again. After declaring that he would cleanse the world, Stain leaped from the rooftop, and Izuku followed close behind, matching his master's movements perfectly. They ran together for some time before Stain came to a stop in an alley.
Izuku slowed down and stared up at him, awaiting the words he knew would come.
"Why are you with them?" Stain asked. The words were simple, but they haunted Izuku more than Stain could possibly realize. "That child has no drive, no purpose. You do not belong with such mediocrity." Stain's mouth dipped into a sneer, and his red eyes narrowed.
Izuku blinked slowly, considering the words before he replied. Stain was right. Shigaraki held no reason behind his actions. The only thing they held in common was their hatred of All Might, and even that was just a child imitating the desires of his parents. All Shigaraki possessed was the wanton desire to destroy, and such was the truth for the other members as well, regardless of how much they might claim otherwise.
But . . . "All For One saved my life," Izuku answered simply.
Stain regarded him for a moment, his cold red eyes searching for something within his apprentice's disposition, and Izuku held his breath. "You are not their ally," Stain finally said. It wasn't a question, or an assumption. It was a simple truth that, for whatever reason, caused Izuku's eye to twitch.
Stain shuffled forward and placed a large hand on Izuku's shoulder, causing Izuku to crane his neck to look up at him. The man smiled, and although to anyone else, it might be considered creepy, to Izuku, there was nothing more genuine. "You should find your own purpose, Izuku. I have offered you mine. Will you take it?"
Izuku stared up at him, the question weighing heavily on his mind. His heart pounded loud in his ears, and his mouth formed around a single word: "yes," but at the last moment, his resolve died, and he dropped his head, unable to force the simple word through his mouth.
Stain nodded and stepped back, his smile not fading at his apprentice's rejection. "Of course, you would want to find your own way. I look forward to seeing it, Izuku." With those final words, he jumped into the fast-approaching darkness, leaving Izuku alone.
Izuku stared after him, knowing exactly what he was planning to do. "Take me with you," Izuku whispered, but his stomach twisted violently, and he shook his head, turning away from his master, his shoulders caved inward. He began his lazy journey home, his mind tied in knots.
Perhaps it's time I accept what I already know, he finally thought, his lips twisting into a frown. My master's cause . . . can never be my own. Even the thought felt like a fierce betrayal, and he stopped, staring into the sky as his eyes burned. Why can nothing ever be simple?
"Izuku," a familiar voice said, and he turned to see Kurogiri standing behind him, the portal he came from slowly closing behind his dark form. "I have a mission for you. Straight from All For One himself."
Izuku straightened, his heartbeat slowing to a crawl. "I'm listening."
Kurogiri sighed, and Izuku detected exasperation on his face, although it was hard to tell given his incorporeal nature. "It appears Shigaraki did not take a liking to Stain. He wants him gone."
A shock rippled through Izuku, but Kurogiri didn't give him time to process the information before he continued, "All For One has allowed three Nomus to be dispatched to Hosu. He also asked you to take care of Stain quickly so we may recover them before we suffer any more losses."
Izuku's lips tightened together, and he tapped his finger against his thigh, his stomach tightening at the explanation. "Why is All For One allowing Shigaraki to waste his resources like this?"
"All For One said Shigaraki must learn the hard way."
Truly a man taking care of his son. Izuku was grateful that his mask hid his sneer. "Understood, Kurogiri."
"Izuku . . ." Kurogiri eyed him for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was layered with concern. "Will you be able to complete your task? This is your opportunity to show your loyalty to All For One."
Loyalty . . . has nothing to do with it. Izuku's heart thudded in his ears, and his fingers danced over his knives, a slow grin spreading across his face. This is my chance to apply everything my master has taught me. How could I refuse? "You don't need to worry about me. I will take care of everything."
—
"Shouldn't you be worried about that guy?" Stain's voice echoed in the alley, and Ida's gasp of surprise followed soon after.
Izuku watched from atop a nearby building, his eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. Native—a pro hero he had compiled information on some time ago—sat against the alley wall, bleeding and no doubt held in place by Stain's quirk. Stain stood over Ida, one of his sword stuck deep into the boy's shoulder as he berated him for his mistake of prioritizing revenge over saving the man.
It was selfish of him, Izuku agreed, his eyes narrowing. Not hero-like at all. Stain is right. Under his logic, Ida deserves to die.
Izuku jumped off the building, flipping before landing behind Stain, who turned to face him, his red eyes bloodshot from the adrenaline of the kill. Izuku straightened, knowing his mask caught the meager light and reflected the blood-red smile thereon. "You always leave me out of the fun," Izuku drawled, drawing one of his knives and stalking forward.
Stain wrenched his sword from Ida, earning a grunt of pain from the boy. His grin widened, and his pupils dilated harshly at the sight of his apprentice. "You're here." He drew out the words, almost like an invitation.
Izuku nodded, his heart thudding loudly in his chest, so loud he was sure Stain could hear it. "I thought about what you said, and you're right. I do need a purpose." Izuku sucked in a breath. "And I think I finally found it," he growled, directing his face toward Ida. The boy's eyes widened at the sight of his mask, and terror overcame his expression. Izuku's heart leapt, and he allowed himself a moment to revel in the feeling before directing his attention back to Stain.
Stain raised his head, his straight teeth bared in an unnerving grin that somehow comforted Izuku despite the situation. His red eyes narrowed, seeming to pierce Izuku through like one of his swords. "Are you ready?" he asked, his voice dropping low. He gestured toward Ida with the tip of his blade.
Izuku nodded and stomped down on Ida's hand as he tried to bring himself to his feet, the spikes on his boots burrowing deep into Ida's flesh. "More than I've ever been."
Stain moved around him, his air that of an eager parent grateful their child had shown interest in their craft. "Tell me, do you think this boy is a hero?" His hand landed on Izuku's shoulder, a comforting weight as he guided him to the correct answer.
Izuku stared down at Ida for a moment, and the boy gazed back, his eyes wide and afraid. His eyes . . . Izuku's vision wavered, and for a moment, he saw a different pair of blue eyes, staring at him with the exact same fearful expression. The thought made his lips turn upward. Well, isn't this ironic.
"No," Izuku finally answered, slowly turning his head toward Stain, who stared down at Ida, his red eyes crazed and bloodshot as he waited for the kill. "But Stain . . . neither are you."
Stain's eyes widened, and his head snapped around, his sword coming up in defense a second too late. Izuku's knife bit into his neck, and, after a moment of resistance, plunged deep into his flesh. Blood gushed from the wound, rushing across Izuku's hand, down his sleeve, and dripping off his elbow onto the cold concrete. Stain's fingers clutched onto the knife as he stumbled backward, and Izuku followed him as his master collapsed against the alleyway wall, Stain's sword clattering to the ground behind them.
Izuku breathed in deeply, the scent of blood filling his nostrils, and he wished for a moment that he could take off his mask and taste it as well, just as he'd seen his master do many times. Instead, Izuku leaned forward, putting his mask up against Stain's ear, and whispered, "Bet you don't feel so gifted now."
Stain's eyes widened with surprise before relaxing into a smile, and he laughed, his voice gurgling through the blood flooding his throat. "Izuku," he murmured, his voice barely decipherable, "you found your purpose." Shaking hands lifted from his neck and pressed onto Izuku's mask, smearing blood over one of the eye holes. "I'm . . . so . . . proud . . ." The last gargled word faded away, and the light disappeared from Stain's eyes all at once. In the same moment, his hands thudded to the ground, leaving Izuku face freezing cold.
Izuku stepped back, letting his arms fall to his sides as he observed his handiwork. Blood covered his mask, his clothes, and the entire alleyway, it's metallic smell filling his nostrils. Images flashed through his mind, and he swayed momentarily before lurching forward to close his master's eyes, finding that the man looked just as terrifying in death as he had in life.
"I did it," Izuku muttered, letting his hand fall away from the man's face, smearing blood across it as he did so. Blue eyes flashed in his mind, and he stared at his bloody hand, his view of it fading in and out. Incredible relief passed over him, following by the overwhelming urge to vomit. He pressed his hand to his mask, struggling to breathe.
I think, after all this time, I can finally say it.
The words, hesitant and broken, came out in a voice barely above a whisper,
"I'm sorry."
—
8 months prior
Izuku strained to keep his leg from bouncing up and down as he stared into the dark space underneath him, itching his neck frantically. The hood of his new costume scratched his neck in an uncomfortable manner, and his breath bouncing against his mask made his face hot and sweaty.
A spiked boot lightly touched his own, and he looked up to see his master, Stain, staring at him with his red eyes narrowed. The message in his gaze was clear: Keep calm.
Sucking a quiet breath through his mask, Izuku held it for a moment before exhaling, allowing his body and his mind a moment of quiet. The antsy feeling in his leg disappeared, and his vision sharpened, focusing solely on the man beneath them.
He was a hero of average height and build. His quirk was nothing too special, only a minor telekinetic gift that allowed him to manipulate small objects. Currently, he was speaking on the phone, although Izuku hadn't been able to focus enough on the conversation to know what it was about.
A subtle shift of energy behind him cued him in on Stain's mind, but Izuku didn't need to be reminded by his mentor. Down below, the man lowered his phone, the call ended. Within seconds, Izuku launched off the building and drew one of his knives as he fell, aiming for the exposed skin of the man's neck.
Gotcha now, hero. I will prove to my master that I am ready! Izuku's mouth twisted into a narrow sneer as he approached his target, his blade poised for the kill.
The knife grazed against the man's skin as he turned almost too fast for Izuku's eye to follow. The knife in Izuku's hand jerked away from him, skittering down the alleyway, and Izuku's momentum carried him past the man, having completely missed the mark.
Izuku caught himself against the wall and flipped backward, landing on his feet facing away from the hero. His eyes widened as he caught sight of his knife levitating on its own, flying toward him as if intending to do to him what he had tried to do to the hero. I didn't plan for this! Izuku thought, barely dodging the knife as it swiped at him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stain shift on the rooftops above, and Izuku leapt into action, jumping onto the wall and running in a circle around his target, firing knife after knife at his the man. I don't need your help, Master! I can do it—watch me!
Izuku tossed another knife into the air, spinning around and kicking it toward the hero with as much force as he could muster. As he spun, he caught sight of several of his knives lying on the floor around the hero's feet, others still caught in the man's quirk in mid-air. He could almost hear his master lecturing him, but he shook off the feeling, instead flipping backward off the wall and soaring high above the man's head.
His booted feet hit the opposite wall, and he launched off it with surprising speed, his eyes on the back of his target's head. The hero's head was turning, looking in the direction he expected Izuku to be, quirk no doubt poised to catch his next knife. Izuku's eyes zeroed in on his exposed neck, and he pointed his knife toward the jugular vein, his entire body humming with anticipation.
The man, finally realizing his mistake, began to turn, but it was too late. The knife slid into his skin, and Izuku felt a lurch as the knife attempted to jump out of his hand on its own once again. But this time, due to the chain he had wound around his hand and the knife, it had nowhere to go except where he directed it.
A loud squelch sounded through the alleyway as Izuku's knife plunged deep into the man's neck, followed by a grating sound as the knife trailed across bone. Blood spurted from the torn artery, splashing onto Izuku's mask and clothes, and the smell of it made Izuku's heart soar.
With a oomph, the man dropped to the ground, and the knife, still attached to Izuku's hand, slowly pulled out of the wound as he did. The man shuddered while on his knees, his hands reaching toward the wound before his body finally caught up to him, and he collapsed onto his face.
Izuku stared down at the man, his limbs jutting out from his body at an awkward angle. Blood pooled from underneath his body, and it licked against Izuku's boots as it spread. Izuku raised the knife in wonder, staring at the glistening red liquid that covered it and his hand.
It was so easy, he marveled, twirling the knife in his hand and stabbing the air as a demonstration. Like cutting through nothing at all.
I did it, he realized, his lips twitching in a smile, and a laugh erupted from his throat, shocking him. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed. I actually did it!
A cell-phone ringing cut his laughter short, and he turned his head to where the man's phone sat, swimming in blood. Izuku wasn't sure when the man had dropped it, but he found himself picking it up anyway, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Anastasia 3 the contact name read, and the contact photo showed a middle-aged woman holding a toddler in her lap, both of them smiling widely. The phone continued to ring until, at long last, it fell silent, and the only noise in the alley was Izuku's own labored breathing.
Stain landed next to him, plucking the phone from his hand and tossing it across the alley. "Don't form connections," he scolded Izuku, but his voice softened almost immediately. "That was very well-done, Izuku." His hand alighted on Izuku's head in a rare show of affection.
It's so hot, Izuku thought as heat seared his entire body. Suddenly, every aspect of his costume felt restrictive, and he stumbled away from Stain, his shaking fingers undoing the clasps on his hood and releasing his mask from his face. He tossed it in the general vicinity of the phone before dropping to his knees, unable to stop himself from vomiting up the contents of his stomach.
Hot tears shuffled down his face, and he gasped aloud, sobbing despite his best attempts to stop himself. Fire erupted in his chest, and he lowered his face to the cool concrete, desperate to cool himself down. I'm dying, he thought desperately. Somebody—help!
From somewhere above him, he heard Stain sigh, and Izuku could practically feel him shaking his head. "I should've known." His footsteps retreated, and the last thing Izuku heard him say was: "You'll need more training."
Izuku stayed in his position for a few more moments before forcing himself to his feet, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. He stared at the prone man, his skin itching painfully. Without thinking, he reached for the man and turned him over, his mind repeating: I did this. I did this. I did this.
He opened his mouth but couldn't muster the energy to do anything but stare at the man's face, frozen in death.
Or, perhaps, not so dead, as his blue eyes opened moments later, gold flecks gleaming in the starlight. Izuku gasped and jumped backward, his hands searching for his knives.
A laugh bubbled from the man, and more blood squirted out of his wound. "Relax, kid. I can't hurt you like this."
Izuku paused, examining the man's features before dropping back to his knees right where he stood. He opened his mouth again, but just like before, he couldn't summon the words. He averted his gaze, his lips trembling.
"I forgive you," the man said suddenly, and Izuku's eyes snapped to him, surprised to see that the man hadn't taken his eyes off him.
"What?" Izuku whispered, his surprise forcing the word out of him.
"You're just a kid," the man continued, his voice fast and his words surprisingly clear. He knows he's running out of time, Izuku realized, and he crossed his arms tightly over his gut. "It's not too late to do the right thing."
A laugh sputtered from Izuku's throat, and he let it overtake him, relieved to feel something positive, even if it was a bitter kind of positivity. "No doctor could ever fix this," he said finally, his eyes burning.
"I'm not worried about me." The man shook his head, his words beginning to slur, but his eyes didn't waver from Izuku's.
Izuku's eyes darted to where the man's phone lay. Is he thinking about his family?
"Heroes are supposed to . . . look after other people." The man struggled to sit up, propping himself up on his elbows, and Izuku raised to a crouched position, shocked to see the man still had enough energy in him to move. "You're . . . the one . . . I'm worried . . . about."
Izuku's lip trembled, and he pressed his mouth into a thin line. "I don't need your concern or your forgiveness." I don't deserve it.
The man simply stared back, his eyes filling with something Izuku hadn't expected: compassion. The sight of it made Izuku squirm, and he gripped onto one of his knives, unsure of how to expel this unpleasant emotion.
"I forgive you," the man whispered again, his lips turning blue underneath the blood. "You're . . . better . . . than . . ." All at once, his strength gave out, and he splashed onto the ground, tiny flecks of blood splattering onto Izuku once again.
Hesitant, Izuku slowly got to his feet and approached the man, kneeling down next to him. He grabbed his shoulder and shook him. "Hey," he said, his tone authoritative. "Wake up." The man didn't respond, and Izuku gritted his teeth as warm blood soaked through his pants. "I said, wake up!" His voice broke, and he shook his head, hot tears searing down his face. "Tell me that thing that you said again." He released the man's shoulders and instead pounded on his chest, desperation building in his stomach. "SAY IT!"
Finally, his composure snapped, and he curled into a ball, his fists resting on the man's chest as he sobbed as loud as he ever had. A weight pressed down on him from above, and he yearned for the ground to open up and swallow them both, to sentence him to the same fate he had so arrogantly dealt. For a long moment, Izuku couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All he could see was red. All he could feel was red. All he could cry was red.
As red as the blood he had spilled.
Finally, his energy spent, Izuku sagged against the body before pulling himself up, directing his blood-soaked face to the sky. The night sky winked back at him, its tranquility mocking him. Pressing a hand against his chest, he marveled at the fact that he was still alive.
A ringing sound took him out of his reverie, and he snapped his attention back to the alleyway, his eyes zeroing in on the phone Stain had tossed. Slowly picking himself up, Izuku stumbled toward it, his trembling fingers struggling to keep a grip on it through all the slippery blood. He walked back to the man and tossed the phone onto his corpse.
The man's blue eyes still stared at him, and Izuku strove to ignore them as he picked up his knives and tucked them back into their sheaths, his breathing evening as he performed the simple task. Finally, he stood next to the body, the crime scene officially clear of anything that could be linked back to him. He held the bloody knife loosely in his hand, and he stared at the sky, not willing to force himself to meet those lifeless blue eyes once again.
He opened his mouth to say the words he had struggled to say before, but his throat seized, and a sob erupted from his mouth instead. Lowering his head, he covered his face with his mask, ashamed at his own cowardice and cursing his fragility.
Then, he ran. He ran as far and as fast as he could, no destination in particular in mind. He remained unseen, knowing his blood soaked clothing would draw attention if anyone were to notice. And as he ran, he sought to erase the memory of the blue-eyed man and the final phone call from his wife, to no avail. His mind swirled with too many thoughts, until at last they finally coincided into one emotion that he knew all too well:
Agony.
Izuku stopped abruptly and ripped one of his knives from his vest, not giving himself a moment to think before he drew the blade across his arm in one smooth motion.
The skin split with no trouble, and Izuku hissed at the sting of pain lancing up his arm. After a moment, blood oozed from the wound and dripped down his arm before splattering onto the concrete below. Izuku watched it, the smooth motion of the blood slowly calming his racing mind. The pain, as harsh as it was, caused his focus to sharpen, and for a moment, all his attention was consumed by the wound and the blood slowly leaking from his body.
It was beautiful—the patterns the blood stained onto his skin, the graceful way it traveled, and how it outline the pores of his skin perfectly. It was just like the hero's blood, only slower, more contained. It was pain, but a manageable amount. It was destruction, but not destruction anyone would care about. After all, it was just him.
It was perfect.
That's it, he decided, raising his knife to give himself a matching cut on his other arm. From now on, the only person who will bleed is me.
—
The masked man stood over the Hero Killer's body, bloody hand pressed to his mask. He shook almost imperceptibly, and Ida could hear him mumble something under his breath.
Ida's gaze traveled over to the other hero, who stared at the masked man with the same amount of trepidation Ida felt. It appears he can move now, Ida noted, rising to a crouch and focusing back on the masked man.
The man lowered his hand and directed his face toward the sky, his manic mumbling coming to an end. Ida tensed his muscles, unsure if he should attack while the man was distracted. While the person had saved his life, the familiarity he held with Stain suggested a deep relationship between the two.
But, he did save my life. I cannot repay such kindness with unwarranted hostility. In the next moment, a laugh cracked through the silence, and Ida's blood ran cold at the sound. I'm not sure if that could be considered a laugh, Ida thought hesitantly. It was a manic sound, one that spoke of pain beyond anything Ida could comprehend. Who is this man?
Steeling his courage, Ida prepared himself for an attack. "Snap out of it!" he commanded, and the man's face immediately twisted to face him, his laughter coming to an abrupt end as their gazes locked. Or at least, Ida imagined that was the case. Underneath that horrifying mask of his, there would have to be a pair of eyes, eyes that stared right at him. Cold adrenaline dripped into Ida's veins, and he froze, waiting for the man to make a move.
The man stared for a moment longer before slowly wrapping his bloodied knife with a cloth and tucking it back into his vest. Then, without another sound, he turned on his heel and approached the injured pro-hero.
The man squeaked at his rapid approach, and Ida lurched to his feet. "Get away from hi—" Ida's yell died as the masked man swung the hero onto his back, the movements both graceful and gentle. Hesitating, Ida watched as the man walked toward him, the pro hero nervously perched on his back.
"U-um," Ida mumbled, staring at the man as he stopped next to him. Wait, Ida thought suddenly. He's shorter than me. Could it be that he's actually . . . no, that can't be.
"Do you need me to carry you too?" the masked man's voice was blunt and distorted, most likely due to some sort of apparatus within his mask. His unfeeling mask faced Ida, slicked with blood, and Ida fought down a shiver of fear.
"N-no," Ida replied, straightening and attempting a smile. "I'm okay."
The man didn't respond, instead turning his head away and continuing toward the street. Ida followed behind him, his eyes scouring the man's back. Everything about him screams villain . . . but he saved my life.
It wasn't long before they reached the streets, and Ida raised his head, his ears ringing with the distant sound of a fight echoing through the streets. "What is happening . . ." he muttered, his eyes darting up and down the street, which was completely empty. "Where is everyone?"
Ida turned toward the masked man, who slowly put down the pro-hero before pointing down the street. Izuku swiveled to see what he'd seen, surprised to find the hero Manual and some of his side-kicks running toward them.
"Ida!" Manual yelled, waving his arms, his eyes wide and desperate. "Watch out!"
"Huh?" Ida barely had time to ask the question before something wrapped out his waist and tugged him into the air, squeezing the breath out of his lungs. Time seemed to slow, and his mouth popped open as the ground slowly receded.
The masked man's face turned in his direction, and their gazes met for a moment. Help, Ida thought, squeezing his eyes closed as he realized there was nothing he could do. Please, save me!
Suddenly, Ida felt himself jerk, and his eyes popped open in surprise. The thing carrying him let out a cry of pain before it began to plummet toward the ground. Everything blurred around Ida, and the claws holding him in place began to loosen. Fear stabbed into his throat, and he gasped as something grabbed the back of his shirt.
A moment later, he found himself rolling across the ground, and as he came to a stop, he raised his gaze toward the cries of the monster.
That monster . . . It looks similar to the one that attacked the USJ! Ida's eyes widened as he took in the scene. A chain wrapped around the creature's left wing, pulled so tightly it bit into the flesh, tearing it apart. And there, standing on top of it, was the man who had saved him, his mask grinning down at the creature as it squirmed. The man raised his foot, the spikes there still gleaming with Ida's own blood, and rammed it into the creature's exposed brain.
Ida winced as blood spurted from the impact, but the man didn't stop there, stomping the creature repeatedly until at last, its movements ceased altogether. The masked man gave it one last stomp before leaning over to retrieve the chain, yanking it from the creature's wing without care and tearing it even further.
Ida's body trembled, and he raised himself to his hands and knees as the masked man approached him, chain in hand and his mask drenched with blood.
"Wh-who are you?" Ida asked, his heart thudding in his ears as the man stopped in front of him. "Why did you . . ." Ida swallowed, his dry throat making it impossible to speak. Plop, plop. Droplets of blood splashed onto the concrete from the man's mask, and Ida grimaced.
The man stayed silent for a long moment, and Ida sought to find some glimpse of an expression behind the mesh eye holes of his mask, only to find nothing but darkness. After a moment, he turned and began to walk away, his heavy boots thudding loudly on the concrete.
He's leaving just like that? "Wait!" Ida yelled, but the man didn't respond. He's not listening! At least let me tell you this! "Thank you!" Ida yelled as loud as he could, his body trembling at the force of it.
The man stopped in his tracks, and his bloodied mask turned slowly toward Ida. There was an uncertain air around him, almost as if he hadn't expected the words. Finally, the man inclined his head before he took off in a dead sprint, disappearing into a nearby alleyway. A few heroes thought to chase after him, but Ida was certain they wouldn't catch him. Not unless he wanted them to. The thought made him shudder.
As Manual caught up to him and pulled him to his feet, Ida couldn't take his eyes off where the man had disappeared. Even as he related what had happened, and even when he was transported to a nearby hospital for his injuries, he still couldn't take his mind off the masked man. His mind swirled with questions, questions that the heroes, the police, and even the media asked him over and over again. Questions he wasn't sure he could ever find the answers to.
Just who was he? And, more importantly . . .
Why did he save me?
—
I disappear for almost a year and then come back with the longest chapter ever. Yeah, that seems about right. Well, I guess I'll see you in another year! (That's a joke, hopefully I'll be back before then.)
Sally