Okay. So, I'm a month late updating this. However, I have been focusing on the main story that I've been writing for a year now, so can you really blame me? Quality over quantity is my motto, and if you don't like it, then… too bad, I guess. Before we begin though, I want to address something.

On Fanfiction Dot Net: 186 favourites, and 226 followers.

On Ao3: 242 Kudos, 83 bookmarks

On Wattpad: 524 views, and 32 votes

Holy crap baskets.

This is by far the most popular story of mine in terms of favourites and followers on Fanfiction Dot Net, my second most popular on Ao3, and my third most popular on Wattpad. I can't believe that it got to that point, yet here we are. Granted, this story has barely gotten any updates in the past god knows how long. But seeing as Midoriya "what ifs" tends to be a popular genre in the MHA crossover scene, I don't doubt for a second that this thing is only going to get more popular as time goes on.

That being said…

WARNING! THIS STORY CONTAINS SCENES/MENTIONS/IMPLICATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING: CANNIBALISM, EXTREME GORE, BULLYING, ABUSE, BRUTAL DEATH, HUMAN EXPERIMENTATION, AND HEAVY BLOODSHED.

IF ANY OF THESE THINGS BOTHER YOU, TURN BACK NOW!

IF THE WARNING DOES NOT APPLY TO YOU…

THIS STORY IS A FAN-BASED FICTION

I OWN NEITHER MY HERO ACADEMIA NOR DEMON SLAYER/KIMETSU NO YAIBA

ALL I OWN ARE MY OCS.

[Vol 1 – 5: Slow Uprisings – Part 2]

The night sky shone with a brilliant bright silver light. Stars were dotted around the skies, amplified by the Moon being at its final part in its cycle. April 21st was set to be a Full Moon. Seeing as tonight was that night, it only made sense for things to go just a little bit differently. And it was all thanks to one slight change on that cold, lonely, and strangely quiet April night that the course of history would take a dramatic swing.

This one, small, insignificant action changed the course of history for decades to come. And this action was spurred on by one, exceedingly small, very insignificant death to most of the world. And thanks to that, it set the seeds of chaos, death, and destruction into motion. And what made things worse was that it was set completely unnoticed by the public, by the Hero Association, and by the world at large.

But just how different would the future be? What could one death do to influence the future so drastically?

Well… to explain that, and to explain why the future became what it would be, one would have to look at it from a different angle. The angle of the victims of this soon-to-be brutal crime. This quiet, cold evening was a turning point. The point in which history itself would be irrefutably changed for the near future, and for history to repeat itself.

Tonight, April 21st, 2111, 11:30 PM, would be known as The Rise of The Demon King. And it all started with an off-handed conversation between two pro heroes. Two pro heroes that were directly tied to the future being changed… forever.

"Did Ya hear? That kid we arrested a couple of days back got let off easy!" Altitude, a pro hero known for his daring flight-based rescues, spoke to another hero off to his left as he dusted off his red latex suit fitted with several wing-based motifs on his shoulders, waist, and ankles. The mask over his face only made his eyes visible, though they had been covered by bright blue goggles.

The hero beside him wore a similar costume, though it was a blue latex suit that had been fitted with wind-based motifs in the same places that Altitude had them. He also wore a similar mask to Altitude, though instead of bright blue goggles, he had dark red goggles.

"A shame. I mean, he was a kid though, can't really blame him too much, right? He got scared and killed those thugs with his Quirk, whatever it might have been. He was playing hero. Then he took a bite of something bigger than he could chew. Quite frankly, I can hardly blame him," Gale, which had been the alias of the hero in question, replied as Altitude shrugged.

"Honestly? I think he just did it because he thought it would be cool. I mean, dressing in all black minus that hideous white tie looks kinda villain-like if you ask me. Reminds me of those spooky mob bosses you'd see in those Pre-Quirk era movies," Altitude shot back, putting his hands behind his head.

Both Altitude and Gale were twins, both with Quirks that helped each other out. Altitude had a flight ability, and Gale could control the flow of the wind. Together, they made the perfect team when it came to flight-based rescues. They had also been known to stop suicides on a regular occurrence, but outside of that, to their fans, they were known to be sarcastic and sometimes outright refused to sign autographs.

Truth be told, they weren't in it for the fame, at least so they said. However, they took every sponsor they were offered, every kind of merchandise brand deal, and anything that revolved around making a lot of money, without even a hint of hesitation. That included the strange, bizarre stuff like signing their rights and likeness to doujinshi artists to make erotic fanfiction of them if artists so pleased, so long as they got a 25% cut of the profits. They regularly did ads for companies to promote products, and they even did movie deals with known producers to cash a quick paycheck.

Nobody ever told them that being a hero meant that they were only supposed to protect the people, and nothing else. That just came in the Job description of being a hero. They're meant to protect the public. What was so wrong with making some extra cash here and there?

Besides, they were once dirt-poor individuals with nothing to their names except the clothes on their backs. Growing up impoverished meant that, to them, every coin, every note, and every stack of yen, all of it, was something that meant more to them than they could've ever thought possible. Earning money was their main goal, no matter what, and saving people to do so was the best way they saw fit. Giving back to the community without having to spend a dime surely made up for all their sponsorships, right?

As children, they lived off donations from generous adults and the food bank. The two's mothers died of a preventable illness because they couldn't afford the trip to the doctors, and their father was neglectful, abandoning them when they were little children. So, for them, making money was priority number 1.

Yes, saving lives was something they had to do, but never once did they complain about doing that throughout their career as heroes. They saved lives as much as possible, and they did so with pride. The Sky Brothers would even go as far as to donate to homeless charities, namely because they knew what it was like to be homeless.

Truth be told, however, to the public, they were seen as cowards. And why? Well, they never got into fights. They still showed up to rescue people when a massive villain attack happened, but they never confronted the villains. That wasn't their job. They were rescue heroes, not combative heroes. Their Quirks weren't designed to fight villains. That, and even with the minimal combat training they had, it wasn't enough to take down a full-scale villain assault. Henceforth why they maintained their roles as those that stop suicides and stop planes from crashing.

Just because they made a lot of money, and mostly refused to do combat, didn't mean they, at least in their opinion, deserve to be called spineless cowards and to be hated by a lot of people—even their old friends from school. In their eyes, they saw it as needless hate that would die away eventually, which in turn would boost their ratings with the public, and therefore allow them to make more money so that they could help more homeless children, as well as splurge on themselves from time to time.

The pair also knew they were targets of The Hero Killer Stain, and whenever they caught wind of him being in the area, they'd go into hiding to avoid him for however long he was in the area for. They knew they were no match for the professional Hero Killer. Even if he did have a big bounty over his head, they weren't that greedy to be stupid enough to take him out. Those types of things were for the combat heroes, not them.

Was it cowardly? Certainly, and they knew it. But did that mean they were going to risk their lives fighting a battle they knew was fruitless? Absolutely the fuck not. In every interview they had, when the question came up about them going after villains, this is what Gale had to say.

"I've said this once, Altitude said it once, and we'll say it a million times over. We are not combat heroes. We have next to no combat training. We will never fight villains, and on the off chance we do, it'll always, always be with someone who has training in that department. We are rescue heroes. It is true that we will fight if we absolutely must, but if we have the choice to avoid conflict, and there are no civilians that we need to swoop in and save to get out of harm's way, we will avoid it like the plague. If you don't like it, then that's on you. We're human, too. The last thing we are tools that you get to command."

Many people were displeased with the interview, especially with that answer. But the Sky Brothers didn't care. They knew what they were, and they would stick with what they could.

Right now, the twin heroes were walking down the sidewalk in an empty part of the city doing one of their regularly scheduled nightly patrols. It was the only part of the city that lacked a severe number of villains, so it was safe for them. They had just gotten finished stopping a commercial jet from crashing into the ocean by the border of the Kanto prefecture, so to say that they had their fair share of action for the day was an obvious no-brainer.

The last thing they wanted was to run in to a villain hellbent on causing havoc. If anything, they were looking for suicidal teenagers or adults to save before they hit the ground, or even better, talk them out of it completely.

"Just because the kid dressed sharp, doesn't mean the kid was in it to look cool, and you know it," Gale said, rolling his eyes underneath his goggles as Altitude snickered.

"You're just saying that because you thought his suit looked cool, aren't you?" Altitude questioned as Gale groaned, facepalming as he shook his head, glancing over at his twin brother with an annoyed look underneath his goggles, one that Altitude could feel, making him shutter just a little bit. "Jeez man, don't get your non-existent panties in a twist. I was just joking!"

"Take this a little more seriously, Altitude. I mean, the kid was acting in the heat of the moment. I mean if that was Suki you would've done a similar thing, right? Besides, I felt bad for arresting the poor kid. He just wanted to protect his friend," Gale replied, putting his hands back to his sides as Altitude cringed.

"Hey man, that's NOT cool!" Altitude spat, smacking his twin brother up the back of the head, who grunted.

"Well, it's true! Besides, the only reason you wanted to arrest him was that there were people nearby! I told you it wasn't a good idea, and now look! Our reputation has hit rock bottom! Even worse than it was before! We should've just stayed out of it! I already feel bad enough as it is for letting that poor kid get the shit kicked out of her, and now I must live with the fact that she died when we could've prevented it!" Gale snapped, turning to face his brother, who waved it off.

"Well then perhaps she shouldn't have provoked those druggies, to begin with, ever think of that?" Altitude said, earning a deadpan look from Gale, who simply shook his head.

"There are some days where I wish I wasn't related to you, Tengen…." Gale muttered.

As they rounded the corner to enter a dark street devoid of cameras, Altitude heard a pair of footsteps walk up behind them. The hero spun around, but all he saw was the darkness of the road behind him. The hero scratched the back of his head, tilting his head. "Uh… Gale, did you hear that?" The pro hero asked, only to get no response. He waited a few seconds but continued to hear nothing. "Togashi, bro, this isn't funny," Altitude said, turning around to see no one.

The pro hero felt a chill run up his spine. He whipped out his phone, turned on the flashlight feature, and looked down at the sidewalk. He saw a small bloody trail leading to an alleyway, and upon seeing that, he felt his stomach drop. The pro hero shuttered, taking a step back as his eyes widened. "N-No way…!" Altitude muttered. There were only a few things he could think of that could've done that. Some sort of wild animal, or Stain. If it was the latter, that meant his brother was in serious trouble.

"Yo! Bro! You okay!" Altitude shouted, only to, once again, get nothing as a response. Altitude shook his head, muttering something under his breath before running into the alleyway.

His eyes widened upon seeing a cloaked figure with clawed hands. The security cameras were broken and sparking, and beneath the figure's feet was a de-limbed Gale, blood leaking from the back of his head. There were distinct climbing marks in the walls, and the way the cameras were broken made it look like they were destroyed from above.

A growling sound escaped from the figure underneath the cloth, their clawed fingers dripping with the crimson life liquid that belonged to his brother. It dripped on the floor, echoing in against the dark of the alleyway. No matter how hard Altitude tried, he couldn't make out who it was that was underneath the cloak. There were no distinct features to be revealed underneath it, and no distinct identifying mannerisms that made themselves known for him to identify who the villain was.

Whoever it was, they were new in town, and whoever it was, they had been after them. And without the ability to fight back due to his Quirk lacking said ability, there was only one thing he could do in his mind.

Out of instinct alone, Altitude screamed.

And that was the last sound that Altitude ever made as a single sound of a sword slashing through the air, skin, muscle, and bone rippled throughout the alleyway as Altitude's head slipped apart in three halves, his body coming to an unceremonious thud. A red eye glowed violently underneath the darkness of the cloak, a growl following soon after.

As the figure slinked back into the darkness, their footsteps echoing in the empty alleyway as blood dressed the walls, the stench of death reeking all over the place. Blood flowed from the alleyway and into the storm drain by the edge of a nearby sidewalk. Later that evening, a homeless man would stumble across the bodies of the two pro heroes and call the police, where they were taken in for an autopsy.

The results were clear. The two pro heroes were killed by some sort of blade. A blade that was consistent with that of one belonging to Stain. But the strange thing was how brutal the kills were. Stain was a killer that only did one Stab, and that was it. There were no signs of paralyzation either, so whoever killed these heroes, couldn't have been Stain.

What made things worse was that there was nothing to trace back to anyone. There was no security camera footage, as the cameras in the alleyway were destroyed. Before they were, they didn't catch any movement in the alleyway, either. It was like a ghost came by and destroyed them. The culprit behind the deaths of Altitude and Gale was completely unidentifiable.

The only thing left behind by the killer were the bodies of the heroes and a massive amount of blood that took two days to clean up.

The police commissioner of Musutafu did a morning address after the incident and declared that the death was caused by Stain, seeing as they didn't want to illicit panic by saying another Hero Killer had shown up. And with that address made, they shelved the event and moved on. If there was nothing left to investigate, and with their only witness being a drugged-up homeless man, they had nothing to go from.

And after two weeks passed, the case went cold.

XxXXxxXXxx

Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi was someone that could be called a workaholic. It didn't matter what case he was assigned to, whether it be a kidnapping or a murder he would be on the case no matter the severity. And despite his appearance, he was a lot older than some would assume. Most people assumed him to be in his early twenties and wrote him off as a youngster go-getter who had nothing else better to do. In reality, he was in his late thirties and a well-respected detective from the northern part of Japan.

He had what some may call a baby face, meaning he had no facial hair. He had pale skin and a plain-looking, average face that couldn't be spotted in a crowd. He also had what most might call a normal head of hair. He never styled it, despite the fact that he could style hair seeing as it was a hobby of his, and the only time he grew out facial hair was when he was stressed.

Normally, he kept his face smooth, one of the reasons being because he didn't like the feeling of facial hair, but seeing as he didn't like it, he never allowed it to grow out. This was all not to mention that his wife, Takamai Tsukauchi, disliked the idea of him having facial hair. It was something the couple agreed upon, which was a good thing given the circumstances.

He was tall, inching 6 feet at a height of 5' 11. He had an athletic build, mixed with broad shoulders and some lean muscles on his forearms and upper arms, giving him the look of a healthy 36-year-old male, to which he would say that he was; because, in truth, he was. Outside of that, however, there wasn't much else to say about the man. He was your typical, law-abiding, Japanese citizen, and THAT was more important to him than his job title.

Detective he might be, but to him, Japan and its laws were more important than anything else, sans his family, of course.

However, things had gotten... complicated, as of late. Which explained why he was standing across from his wife, arms crossed and expressionless.

Takamai was around the same height as Naomasa, give or take a few inches. She had short black hair and chestnut brown eyes, the inverse of Naomasa, minus the short hair. Her one defining feature was that she had a small circular birthmark underneath her right eye and that she had freckles. Outside of that, she looked like your average woman with an equally average Quirk, one that made it so that people would focus on her voice more than others.

"Are you even listening to me?! Naomasa, for once, just take a damn break!" Takamai practically shouted, trying to keep her voice low so as to not wake up their child. Naomasa sighed, lowering his head as he went over his thoughts.

"Takamai... you know that I can't do that. People rely on me. If I were to take a break now, then our tracking down of that killer will slow down, and it will result in more lives being put into peril. We don't know their motive, why they did what they did, or even what they look like or what their Quirk is! Me taking a break would cause untold damage to the community, and to the innocent lives at large. Besides, right now I'm tired of arguing, so—"

"If you're so tired of arguing, then do what I say, and take a damn break!" Takamai interrupted, stamping her foot down on the tile floor, Naomasa looking up at her with narrowed eyes. "Look, I understand that your job is important. But even All Might takes breaks. Fucking All Might, Naomasa! You know, the top pro hero in all of Japan!"

"That is NOT a fair comparison, and you know it!" Naomasa snapped, a frown taking up his visage, Takamai shaking her head.

"Yeah, you're right. At least All Might listens to others. You're too stubborn for your own good, Naomasa. It's our daughter's 11th birthday tomorrow, and you won't even take a break for that. If that is how much you genuinely care, then I am done," Takamai said, crossing her arms as she turned to walk away.

"W-What, but—!"

"But nothing! Naomasa, if you care about our relationship, and if you care about your daughter, then you will take a break and call in for the week. There are other detectives at the station, you do not NEED to be there all day, every day! Now, if you were smart, you would head to bed. Goodnight, Naomasa," Takamai said, leaving the kitchen, not bothering to wait for Naomasa to say anything. She walked up the stairs, and the last thing that he heard was the upstairs door to their bedroom slamming shut.

All Naomasa could do was stand there, body tense from the argument, eyes looking at the ground as he considered everything that Takamai had said. She wasn't wrong, which was the upsetting part. He had forgotten his daughter's birthday and had forgotten how old she was turning.

And the fact that he forgot that made his stomach churn. How could he forget that? How absorbed in his little world had he been that he had forgotten his daughter's special day? If Mikan had found out that he forgot her birthday...

"Maybe I do need to take a break..." Naomasa murmured, looking down at the floor. Shame weaved throughout his body as he looked back at the time. 11:30 PM. It was 30 minutes to midnight, and he had only gotten home 25 minutes ago. He had been held up at the office with important paperwork and seeing as he woke up at the crack of dawn to get to work, he never got the chance to see his daughter that day.

The detective looked down the hallway, the only thing he could see was the outline of a mirror at the end of the hall. There were a set of three doors, two on the left and one on the right. The one on the right was a bathroom, and the two on the left were a bedroom and a playroom. The bedroom belonged to Mikan, his daughter.

Naomasa slowly walked down the hallway, tiptoeing so he didn't wake her. He reached out to her door, gently turning the door handle and pushing it open slowly. Inside, bundled up in an EdgeShot-themed blanket, was his daughter, her medium-length brown hair resting on her back, her face turned away from the door as a silent snore came from her corner. Naomasa smiled, slowly closing the door as he stepped back.

"Goodnight... Mi-chan..." Naomasa whispered. The name he used to refer to her was a nickname that he gave her when she was two years old, one that now, even though she thought embarrassing, she still liked.

Turning to go up the stairs, he felt his heart skip a beat. He thought of his daughter, and how upset she would've been if she found out that her parents were separating. That kind of thing traumatized a child, having one or more parents leave their life, no matter when, was something that always messed with them.

And it wasn't as if any of it would have been the fault of his wife, either. Because, in all fairness, she was correct. Even if that meant he had to put his ego away, and face reality. It was a small price to pay to keep the wife and kid happy, and he wouldn't mind doing that. After all, why wouldn't he? Naomasa was a father and husband first, and a detective second. It should've always been like that, but with the recent Gale and Altitude murders, he let his compulsive need to finish something completely take him over.

Perhaps tomorrow, he could take a break... or maybe even the rest of the week. Besides, what was the harm in doing that? "Takamai is right... other detectives could fill in for me. My family needs me. The last thing I want to turn into is my father..."

And with that, Naomasa slowly entered the bedroom he shared with Takamai, who was already sound asleep. Quietly, he took his pants and shirt off, leaving his underwear on, then crawled into bed, turning the other way and closing his eyes. Just before he could doze off to sleep, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist, and the sensation of a head resting against his back. He glanced over to his shoulder and saw Takamai.

Turning his head back to where he was staring, he put his hand on hers, gently wrapping his fingers into her own, smiled, then felt whatever remaining energy he had in his body drain away as he was whisked away into the land of dreams.

XxXXxxXXxx

Izuku woke up earlier in the morning with a sense of fulfilment. There were very few things that gave him that sense of accomplishment, one of which was the sensation of completing a task. It had been two weeks since the two "pro-heroes" that allowed Natsumi to die were killed by his hands, and he did not go a single second without feeling that sense of pride.

Rather than guilt, which was what he expected to feel, he felt joy. He was glad that scumbag heroes like those were off the streets, but more importantly, he felt as if he got the revenge Natsumi so rightfully deserved. Due to their laziness, and due to their inability to do as they were supposed to, a human life was cut short that day. And even though Izuku may not have been human, he knew that human, bonded with that human, and grew to know them for the better half of two years.

And then, he got to thinking. There were more cases of these so-called "pro-heroes" costing the lives of thousands due to ineptitude. Even All Might had failed several times in saving the lives of innocents due to mistakes—common mistakes, mind you, but mistakes nonetheless.

Was it outlandish to believe that small mistakes were entirely the fault of heroes? Yes, absolutely. But major, life-threatening mistakes on the other hand? Now those were completely different issues. One that he had to think about.

How was he going to judge who to kill, and who to let live? The answer should be simple, but it wasn't. Several questions had to go into who had to be killed next. It wasn't as if he could just make up a reason. He wasn't a mindless serial killer. What he was doing, at least in his mind, was bettering the world of heroism. Ridding the world of those that infiltrated the system only for fame, money, and constant praise was a good thing.

But at the same time, he had to be methodical. He wasn't about to kill someone for doing one sponsorship. Heroes were people, too. They had lives, mouths to feed, and families to care for. If a hero needed money and took one, maybe two sponsorships to make ends meet, why not? He saw no harm in that.

However, doing it constantly, while reportedly being rich? That was crossing the line. Unless they had a history of donating the money, then those who constantly did sponsorships and barely helped out the community were those that needed to die.

That being said. There was another part of Izuku's mind that he had to overcome, as well. While balancing the idea of who to kill and who not to was already difficult, there was something else that, while not at all part of the conversation, was equally as dangerous as letting his anger get the better of him, like when he killed those villains in the alleyway—the same ones that killed Natsumi.

And that was something that he never had experienced before up until now.

That being the thrill of the hunt.

The thrill of chasing down prey, and the thrill of ending their lives. A part of him told him that it was natural. But another part told him it was wrong, that what he did to those heroes would be something that Natsumi wouldn't have wanted him to do. That he took it too far.

Sadly, it had been drowned out by the far louder noise, telling him that his job wasn't finished. That there were more "heroes" like them to purge.

Izuku was no fool. He knew about The Hero Killer Stain. Izuku wouldn't lie when he would say that he, in some strange sense, looked up to the Hero Killer. There were things that Stain did and said that Izuku found hard to ignore. He brought up genuine points, but no one was willing to truly listen, writing him off as some deranged lunatic.

Stain had killed several hundred heroes over 3 years, 45 heroes per year since his start. However, that was because he wasn't doing any research. Some of the heroes he killed were innocent, save an ad read or two. Sure, perhaps half, maybe a few less, of those heroes deserved death, but a majority of them? Not so much.

But unlike Stain, who did his killings based on instinct, Izuku would not fall for the same trappings. After all, why would he? He had months to prepare, and unlike Stain, who was widely known to be who he was with no alternative identity to hide behind, Izuku was an unknown force. Quite frankly, he didn't care for any attention either, so if his kills were blamed on Stain, then so be it. Having a scapegoat would make things far easier.

"Izuku! Have you done any more of those online courses?" Inko's voice called out from beyond his bedroom door, the 11-year-old boy glancing over his shoulder as he sighed. In front of the green and black-haired teen was a laptop, and open on the tab in front of him were college-level exam questions that Izuku was doing on a piece of paper over to his left, using one of his bone-whips to write the answers, while he lifted 20-pound hand-weights at the same time.

He technically didn't need to lift weights, seeing as he was twice, maybe even thrice as strong as your average adult human. However, if he was going to be taking down and killing "pro-heroes" during his pastime, he was going to need to get stronger. He wasn't going to settle for mediocrity.

"Yes, mother! I have! I'm finishing the last exam right now for biology!" Izuku shouted, earning no response from his mother. He assumed that she was happy with his answer, and continued working. Over the past two weeks he had been studying human biology for one express purpose: to learn more about the thing that he wasn't. Just because he was a genius didn't mean he knew absolutely everything.

Knowing about biology allowed him to pinpoint where exactly he'd have to go to disable his opponents before killing them. This way, it made it so that he could make up for what he lacked, whereas Stain did not have to worry about it. For Stain's Quirk was what allowed him to win against many pro-heroes he had a disadvantage against.

Blood Curdle.

Stain's Quirk, Blood Curdle, made it so that anyone Stain had stabbed, slashed, or even nicked by any of his blades and end up bloodied; if his tongue so much as tapped the then-now bloodied blade, his saliva would send a paralyzing wave throughout the blood's host, causing a ripple effect and ultimately paralyzing the person the blood belonged to. From what Izuku could gather, Stain used this to beat the opponents that he would, realistically, have no chance at defeating.

Izuku did not have this advantage. While yes, he was strong, fast, and overall more capable than a human, that didn't match up to those with power-enhancing Quirks, to which at that point he would have met his equal. Regular humans with no power-enhancing Quirks, he could kill them with ease. The moment someone factored in Quirks was when things got difficult.

Depending on what Quirk he had to run into, he had to strategize at that moment on what to do. Without the knowledge of the human body, he would be rushing in blind. But with his knowledge of the human body through and through, he wouldn't have to worry. One stray bone whip stabbing someone through the thigh and a vital blood vessel, even if they could still fight, 20 seconds later and they would bleed to death.

As brutal as that was, it was reality. It didn't matter what Quirk you had. The moment a major artery is popped, and you can't halt or stall the bleeding, you're doomed. Izuku didn't have to worry about that due to his insane regenerative capabilities, however, knowing was half the battle.

Putting down the weights, Izuku stood up from the chair, the bone whip putting down the pencil as it returned to his back. Walking to the entrance of his room, he opened the door, stepped outside, and looked over at his mother, who was standing at the end of the hallway with a basket of laundry. Her back was turned to him, and upon seeing that, something in the back of Izuku's brain turned on.

At that moment, he felt his pupils shrink, and for his mouth to slowly open, a small line of drool falling down his lips, his mind screaming at him to do… something. His claws fanned open and close, almost as if they were demanding he did… something. At that moment, Izuku was lost to his thoughts, and just as he was about to fully give in to the same primal instinct he felt when he killed those criminals, his mother turned around, her verdant green eyes staring into his crimson eyes.

Whatever animalistic feeling he had pent up in his chest died, and he stopped fidgeting. He clamped his mouth shut, and the vile thought that had told him to kill her left his mind.

"Izuku? What's wrong?" Inko asked, the green-and-black-haired boy shaking his head, hurriedly walking past her.

"Nothing, mother. I… I just had a thought that I didn't quite like. I'll make supper for tonight. You go relax," Izuku replied, walking toward the kitchen as several of his whips opened up cupboards, preparing to make dinner. Inko smiled, walking down the hallway and into her room to fold the laundry, all the while Izuku stood in the kitchen, the fingers on his left hand tapping repeatedly against the counter.

"What… was that? Why… why did I want to kill her…? She's done nothing wrong to me, so why…?" Izuku thought as he started to prepare to make Sushi. His mind craved for him to eat something raw, something fresh, and to do that now.

For no discernable reason at all, his heart began to race, his vision becoming blurry. The last thing he heard was his mother screaming as he hit the floor with a loud thud. Then, everything went black.

-To Be Continued-