Her eyes stayed fixed on the giant glass structure of U.A. It was miles out—but even from here, it loomed overhead like a holy mountain. With her class in tow, she intended to take the pilgrimage all the way.
…Even if she herself couldn't receive any sort of blessing. This time, there was no room to doubt—she was abandoning Midoriya. Before, when she'd chosen Reiko, she was somewhat guiltless. It was simply her gut reaction to guarantee the survival of the closest person. Here, however?
Here, she felt the weight more than ever. The cloak of responsibility had grown no lighter in her brief recess—and now she carried more than just the cloak. Now, she carried the entire class in a literal sense, and that was her duty. She couldn't forsake that for anything. Yes, Reiko was helping a tremendous amount, but now Shiozaki knew better. A leader isn't chosen by who does the most—they're chosen for their ability to make hard choices.
Reiko might be more capable than her, more sound of mind—but that didn't mean the divine right of kings fell to her. She was only so capable, Shiozaki now saw, because she didn't have to make those hard choices. There was no world where she put in the same admirable effort whilst also doing Shiozaki's job. They were at their best when they worked together, focusing on their individual skills. Even if those skills put them at disproportionate risk.
So, Shiozaki, with Reiko and Urarakas' help, flew the class away while Midoriya held off the hellhounds. It hurt—really, really bad. She wanted nothing more than to engage in a full-scale battle with the six monsters, but she couldn't. In her current state, she would be little help on the battlefield. Her role was simple. Support. Midoriya's was far more complex, she realized, but here, he was best as a combatant. That didn't mean she should hand the crown over to him, however—especially considering he abdicated for her once already.
He'd made his decision an hour ago when he'd appointed her as the Vice. Midoriya entrusted this job to her for a reason—one she finally understood.
She glanced down one of her bangs—to Reiko, far below. Her eyes weren't focused ahead, like hers—they were on Midoriya. Reiko knew how to do the hard jobs, but it didn't take a genius to see her dissatisfaction.
Her mind trailed back to before the explosion. When Reiko took charge, and led the class, she'd been amazing—but she stood her ground. Looking back, Shiozaki would've done things differently. There was a duty in their role: to secure as many people as possible. If they'd just ran away, none of this might've happened.
Likewise, Shiozaki's good friend—what were they?—wouldn't have been able to trust Midoriya as Shiozaki had. He'd earned it, she decided. Shiozaki resisted his intentions, fearing for his life—but the least likely person reminded her of her duty. Sero. After what he attempted before, she never thought the person to get through to her would be him. Yet, it was.
So, she flew, and kept her eyes ahead. With her at the head, they escaped the USJ using the very opening Darkshadow made for them.
This high in the air, she could see the road between the USJ and U.A., and it made her heart flutter. Along the path were three people running towards them. The distance was too great to make them out with any detail, but at this point, she would take anyone she could get.
"Hey!" She said, waving her hands. Perhaps it was a useless gesture since a giant floating array of students surrounded her. At this point, however, her mind was already lost in euphoria. There was an odd, wet swishing noise, but she ignored it. Her priority was acquiring aid. "We need help! We need—ack!"
Before she could finish her cry for help, something snapped her neck back. She tried to go further, to go higher—but the act only yanked her chin up higher. Her vines snagged on something.
Turning, she assumed a vine caught on a crack of concrete—but instead, she only saw smooth, cold stone. It took her a moment to process what she was seeing.
"A-aye!" Sero said, wriggling in place. His struggle traveled up her vines and into her scalp, letting her identify his position in an instant. She blinked. Despite nothing obstructing her vision, Shiozaki wasn't sure what she was looking at.
She could only see half the boy's face. The other half was stuck in the same cold stone as the rest. Like his face, most of his body was also trapped. He wasn't caught between cracks—not snagged on broken rebar. He was sunken in the stone like quicksand.
Around him, several of her vines met the same fate. They were all normal until they reached the USJ's walls, and then they just… cut off. Like phantoms phasing through a wall half-way. She flexed her hair, and knew she hadn't lost any control—in fact, on the other side of the smooth stone, her vines were perfectly normal. Her control didn't leave with her vision. Shiozaki still held her friends tight.
Most of the class surrounded her—but not all. She was missing almost half the lower students. Swinging around, she tried to spy some opening she could remanuever to—but there was nothing. The massive, building-sized opening was sealed shut like Darkshadow'd never broken it.
At first, she felt nothing. The confusion stole her anxiety, casting it aside for a whole second before her heart plummeted. If not for her weightlessness, the vertigo might've brought her vomit out for the world.
How? They were so Goddamn close! A million unladylike curses crossed her mind, in tune with her explosive heart rate, but after a split second, she calmed herself.
With quick eyes, she counted who was in and who was out—and immediately felt her gut turn. Pony, Uraraka, Hitoshi, Yui, Ojiro, and Jirou were still inside.
…And Reiko.
"What on earth!?" Mezou asked. He was the closest person to Sero. With a single push, she put him beside the boy. Despite his regeneration, she was reluctant to put him to work. Still, he was the strongest. Seeing her intent, Mezou reached out and grabbed Sero's arm and pulled—to his massive chagrin.
"Arrhhh! Shtop!" Sero said, half his mouth sealed shut. Immediately, Mezou released him, but didn't float away. He glanced at Shiozaki. They shared a nod. Rearing a fist back, Mezou punched the concrete as hard as he could. His fist hit the wall hard—but it didn't crack even a little. Liquid-like waves spread from the point of impact, no bigger than a pebble's splash in a pond.
Instead of those waves dispersing, however, something strange happened. While the waves were miniscule at first, they expanded, growing larger by the second. The smooth, concrete wall wavered with the waves, warping further and further until the crests and troughs became dramatic. They became so erratic that, once they hit Sero, it partially dislodged him. Free, Shiozaki immediately pulled him and Mezou close, making sure no nothing could get them. In the end, it didn't matter.
Those waves changed again, settling into awkward shapes—familiar shapes. A lengthy, vertical protrusion pushed outwards, flanked by two spherical bumps. Those bumps turned shadowed when a ridge appeared above, quickly matched by a gash opening further below. All at once, the image came together as the face blinked.
The stone man looked around, smiled, and then laughed. It was a simple, fierce sound. Like the howling wind between mountaintops; like the airy echo of a valley at sunrise. Pupils pushed forward, distinguishing themselves from the smooth boulders as they rolled around. They jumped around, mirth dancing in its matt complexion, before settling on her.
"Haha! You know, it took me a second to remember myself, but here we are! You almost got away too, didn'cha girlie?"
"Who are you? What have you done?" Shiozaki asked, flaring her vines. She willed more life to flow through her vines. Strength flowed through the strands not holding her friends. Two vines hovered around her shoulders, thorns and wildflowers dotting their sides. Pressing her hands together, she focused her whole attention on bulking those strands up.
"Boss said I was extra security! I'll have to ask for forgiveness—I've never taken so damn much, you see? Shit does things to your mind... I almost didn't notice your escape—but don't worry! Surrender, and I won't feed ya to the mutts, eh?"
The stone-man's face was massive—almost twenty feet from top to bottom—but he was only a face. There wasn't much depth to his expression—like a thin mask stretched around a flat canvas. Shiozaki wasn't sure how he fixed the wall, but if this was the extent of his control, then it was simply a matter of—
Bursting from the face's ears, two stone arms reached out and interlocked fingers behind her. They weren't human-shaped—rather, they were wide, with rectangular angles. With quick movement, she flung her thick vines up, bringing her full strength upon the limbs. Instead of breaking them, however, the same thing with Mezou happened. They simply bounced off, generating small waves on impact. These ones, however, did not birth a stone face. Retrieving her vines, she winced.
She'd spent a tremendous amount of strength reinforcing them, but they returned to her crooked and broken. Before she could recharge them, however, a shadow covered her view of the sun. Another pair of arms burst out, but these ones came from the opposite cardinal direction. They met in an X behind her and melted together, creating a sort of cage—one that was slowly closing its gaps. The arms were widening, with elbows that expanded closer and closer together.
The stone man clicked his stone tongue.
"Shame on you, tree hugger! Shoulda chose the less painful option." The stone man said, before turning. Like a revolving door, the face's left cheek melted back into the stone, with the right cheek chasing after.
For a brief second, the face disappeared entirely. Shiozaki tried moving, but the second she tried the left cheek reappeared on the opposite side. "Just checked your friend! He's having a shit fucking day. Once they're done with him, they'll want to eat you, too! Bahahah!"
"Damn you!" Sero said, flipping off the stone face.
Beside them, the gaps between the arms were rapidly enclosing them into a half-sphere prison. If they had any hope of getting out, it was right-Goddamn-now.
"We need to get out of this before he traps us!" Mezou said, whispering beside her. She nodded—but then remembered. Reiko was still on the other side. While most of her vines stuck were useless, one rested in the stone man's cheek. Leaving Midoriya to his chosen duty was one thing—cutting their losses was another.
Her eyes settled on the stone-man's mouth. It was a large cavity, with a fully-formed jaw and tongue inside—and thus the wall's weak point. When he spoke, he was animated. Despite his literal stone-face, his emotions were totally transparent. His mouth was always on the move. With her vine in his cheek, it was in the perfect position. If he could emote just the right amount, she could adjust the vine to be in the center of his "throat."
Though she couldn't pull her friends through the wall, she could still move the vines on the other side. She guided them inwards, pulling them towards where the man's mouth was. Shiozaki couldn't read minds or send telepathic messages, but she hoped this was enough.
"I don't believe you!" Shiozaki said, bringing herself closer to the stone-man's face. The sunlight dwindled from meters to feet. God, she hoped she was making the right choice. If she riled the man up enough… "Midoriya is greater than those evil beasts. He's as righteous as they come!"
"Bahaha! You're suckin' off a dead man, girl! Any moment now, I'm sure I'll hear his last scream. Overhaul wouldn't want him anyways—any moron stupid enough to take those freaks on isn't worth his damn time. Suicide isn't strength. You kiddies, however… I like you! You know how to run."
"You're fucking gross!" Ashido screamed. The stone-man froze, and turned to face her. Swallowing down her repulsion, Shiozaki smiled. Yes Ashido, Shiozaki thought. Pull aside his attention even further! Her vine was right next to his lips.
"And a bitch!"
Lord Father above, bless this girl. If only Hitoshi was on this side and not the other. The stone man's stone eye twitched. From his chin, a stone pillar tired to skewer her—but she was still under Shiozaki's protection. Saving her, she directed her further aside. Concrete sharpened to a needle's point stabbed through her vine, cutting her connection to Ashido—but it was enough. Knowingly or not, Ashido just saved them all. Redirecting all her reserves, she pumped the vine with as much life as possible. It bulged.
"Everyone!" She screamed, grabbing ahold of every single able-bodied peer. "Let's go!"
With one terrible wrench, she opened up a small hole behind the man's tongue. In the same moment, she flung every spare vine and person forward. Mezou was first as he leapt into the stone man's mouth. Planting his feet on the man's canines, he held his jaw open wide. Likewise, her vines shot past and forced their way into the hole. Gripping either side, she tore the hole apart, widening it ever-so-slightly more.
"A-aye! Wuh ah ooh ooin?" The stone man exclaimed, unable to close his mouth. His tongue lashed out, but Mezou pinned it with a stomp. Stone flowed inward like water, strengthening and enlarging the teeth, forcing Mezou to bend with the closing jaw. In a blink, the stone man turned every tooth into a razor-sharp canine. Despite it all, however, Mezou never faltered. The teeth stabbed into his shoulders, arms, and feet—but he held the mouth open regardless. Diving past him, Aoyama and Tsuyu leapt into the cavity.
Aoyama blasted a second hole into the man's throat, just as large as the original. Tsuyu, likewise, joined Ibara's vines with her tongue. Pressing her feet on either of the hole, she squatted and used all her strength to pull the gap open. Her strength was far above normal humans, and with her help, they widened the original hole even more.
As fast as they leapt into danger, Shiozaki sent more—Sero and Toru, working together, managed to finish what everyone else started. From Shiozaki's vantage point, she saw a pale arm fit through the hole they'd all made—and recognizing it by the strength held within, utilized the appropriate vine. In one giant push, she managed to retrieve Pony.
They came quickly after Pony, and Shiozaki did everything in her power to help. Yui came next, and Tsuyu even managed to grip hands with Ojiro and pull him free.
Her heart soared, seeing the next face peak through—Reiko's unmasked, unmarred beauty relaxed her. She was alright. Like with Ojiro, Tsuyu pulled her into the mouth—but all at once, it went wrong.
"Uh-uh-uh!" The stone man said. Retracting the spear-pointed teeth, the man dedicated his energy to growing thicker lips. More surrounding material flowed inwards, sinking his cheeks as the lips grew outwards.
"Get out of there!" Shiozaki screamed, but it was too late. Only Ojiro, Yui, and Mezou made it out in time before the lips sealed shut, imprisoning her friends. Quiet, dull screams broke through the layers of stone, and it was enough to shatter her world.
The stone man's face changed in an instant—before, it'd been the perfect image of a man—but now, its face grew twisted, demonic.
"You little shits thought you could break past me? I'm an unbeatable wall. Overhaul's impenetrable fortress! Sorry tree hugger, you've crossed the damn line!"
More material flowed from around the face, building around the eyes and making them bulge. A blink later, and two stone spears blasted out his eyes, aimed straight at her. She tried to dodge backwards—but her shoulders hit the stone prison walls. Crossing her arms in front of her face, she gathered as many vines between herself and the spears as possible. It wasn't enough. Not nearly.
The world slowed down as the spears pierced her only defenses like butter. Most of her classmates' eyes were on her. Many had their arms out, screams on their lips—but none were close enough to save her. Looming behind them all was the laughing stone man, and mania sang in his eyes.
Her eyes began to close—but after almost being crushed to death, dying in the dark was far, far scarier than dying by itself. So, she met her death head-on, and hoped 1A could use her as a distraction to save everyone else. With one final push, she flung her classmates as far from the danger as possible. She made the promise to protect them with no excuses, after all.
Yet, nothing happened. Even when the world sped back up and her name echoed through their prison, nothing happened. Not when the spears reached her, not when the laughing stone-man froze, not when she continued to breathe. And, at the same time, everything did.
All at once, cracks spread from behind her, ravishing the dome-shaped prison. They started slow, but sped up as they went. In seconds, the entire dome dissolved into concrete fragments—and then sand. The sun beamed down on her a moment later, warming her face even as her entire chest went cold. Looking down, a giant wall of ice engulfed her torso. She pulled, but she was stuck—and alongside her, the stone pillars. They were inches from her breast. It froze the moment of her death in time, extending her fatality into an unending moment.
"What?" The stone man asked, pulling his face outward, turning more shapely and less flat. His eyes whizzed from student to student, searching for the source. He wouldn't find it among them. None of her friends had this kind of power. "Who did this?"
"Fuck you, that's who." A voice said behind her, scratchy and thin and absolutely furious. They were ten meters in the air, but three individuals stepped past her, walking on the ice encasing her. Only one paid her any mind—a man in a blue fur coat. He wasn't the speaker, however.
She couldn't see the man's face as he walked past her, but his profile made her shiver. He had shoulder-length blue hair with streaks of black. A black suit hugged his frame with military-grade steel plates dotting his arms and spine. It wasn't bulky—they were thin sheets, molded to his imposing musculature. One hand was gloved, but the other was bare, and he held it out where he walked.
He strolled with an arrogant swagger—like a cop with a pistol. Yet, the man actually did have a firearm attached at his thigh. Shiozaki couldn't fathom why he'd feel safer bare-handed—nor could she quite fathom his existence in the first place. Was this disconcerting man a… miracle? Or did the situation just get so, so much worse?
Ice spread outwards where he walked, but she was positive he wasn't the source. It was the fur-coated man doing that magic. A third figure joined them, but he was nondescript. Dark clothes, brown hair, buzzcut, ear studs. Despite his boring appearance, however, there was a unique pep in his step, almost like a skip.
"Heheh…" He giggled, looking at the blue-haired man. "This is Mimic, Boss. Kinda ironic, right? He's not usually so powerful… probs overdosing on trigger."
"I couldn't care less about this loser," The Boss said. Turning, he looked at Shiozaki, and she shuddered. The contact only lasted for a microsecond, but it left a burning lump in her throat. This was not a hero. He turned to his fur-coated companion.
"...Hypothermia sucks, Iceman." The Boss said. Iceman waved a hand, and the freezing crystals encasing her vanished. "Not what I meant. Goddamnit—whatever. Freeze Mimic's dick off for all I care—just make me an entrance."
She flexed her wrists, but she was alright. Still hovering, she regrew some sun-fueled vines and steadied herself. The trio paid her no further mind—though her peers didn't reciprocate their disregard.
"Who the hell are you guys!? You don't look like teachers—" Satou began, before, like herself, a wall of ice cut him off. He peered through the see-through wall, fine but disgruntled. She hadn't even seen Iceman move.
"Don't obstruct official military business." Iceman said, glancing at him then her. She didn't understand her next actions—only that she did them, and didn't regret it.
"Wait!" She said, lunging forward to grab his arm. Instantly, ice crept up her hand, but it didn't swallow her like before. "You're going inside? Can you—can you help us first?"
Iceman hovered for a second, unmoving. After a moment, he turned his shoulders more toward her, and began to answer—before being cut off by the Boss.
"Cut the empathy. The mission comes first." He said. Without delay, Iceman shrugged her off.
"The mission?" Mimic asked. "You think you're going to complete a mission? I think—no, I know who you bastards are. You're just Met—"
Faster than she could blink, Iceman summoned a gargantuan ice-spear, piercing Mimic between the eyes. Shiozaki couldn't help herself—she screamed, afraid for her friends trapped within. It became clear a moment later, however, that she had nothing to worry for.
Mimic's face went slack, his stone-jaw melting open to reveal the half-collapsed cavity her friends were in. Without delay, she brushed past the mysterious trio. She grabbed every person she could—Tsuyu, Aoyama, Toru and Sero. Pulling them to safety, she handed them off to the nearest person.
Stabbing her vines into the stone, she pulled herself into the mouth, trying to find the hole she'd made—but it was gone. Or, rather, it had shrunk to the size of a golf-ball. Crawling down onto all fours, she peered through the hole, showing her the state within. She shoved an arm through, and found the stone wet and soft—almost clay-like. Pulling, she widened the opening.
"Reiko! Reiko, I'm still here! Guys, can you find me?" She cried, looking all around. She could feel where her vines were, but not see them.
"Hey, lady, I wouldn't get so close. He's not dead—" Iceman warned, but it was too late. Behind her, the jaws snapped shut, and the all-too-fast, the hole she'd made closed over her arms, trapping her. Shiozaki tugged as hard as she could, but it didn't come undone.
A tiny face, far smaller than the one outside, formed beside her head. Its voice was proportionally squeakier, but no less malicious.
"Stupid! Now that I have a hostage, I can—"
Ice burst into the mouth, ripping the jaws open and encasing her. It crawled up the walls, freezing them and the tiny face. Somewhere, Mimic screamed, but it was from no mouth she'd seen. Behind her, a set of footsteps echoed through the mouth. The ice around her melted half-way as she saw the trio step onto Mimic's frozen tongue.
"You're kinda stupid," the plain-looking man said. "But you're pretty!"
Bent over, half-frozen and fully panicked, she could only shiver. The Boss paid her no mind and stepped straight past her. He didn't do anything special—he didn't pull out a tool, or charge up an attack. Instead, he seemed to study himself in the ice's reflection. It didn't appear that he liked what he saw, because in the next moment, he placed his hand on the mirror.
It shattered. Or, rather, it broke, dissolved, and fell to nothingness—alongside the rest of the wall. The decay spread, encasing the ice-covered walls and the hole of Shiozaki's making, but it didn't spread to her, or the two men at his side.
The cold Shiozaki felt around her could not compare to the one within. This Boss—this quirk, was dangerous. She shrank away from him.
Iceman made a new platform beneath their feet just as the old one faded to nothing—and thus, a window to the USJ opened up to her. Far below, she could see Reiko, Uraraka, Jirou, Hitoshi and Yui clutching each other, yet her eyes couldn't stay. They dragged themselves back to the boss, time and time again.
Something about him was awful—but familiar. She couldn't place it. He radiated an aura that drew her in, comforting her—and yet, his demeanor was frightening. Even beyond his devastating quirk, his expression was awful. His eyes, hard, black things, glided from sight to sight, drinking in the chaos of the USJ. Dry, abused skin withered his otherwise handsome face. Each foot stood on the window's edge, as if totally unafraid of slipping.
From this angle, Darkshadow's rampage became so much more clear. From the ground level, she could only assume the damage—but from here, she could see the war-strewn field he'd left in his wake. His wasn't the only destructive source, however—from this pedestal, she could see the battle in the Plaza—and how poorly it was going. Mr. Aizawa's struggle seemed even more hopeless from here.
The Boss turned to Iceman.
"Go. Eraserhead is the absolute last thing we can allow to fall into the enemy's hands."
"But don't you want…?"
The Boss looked down, away from the Plaza. His rhythmic breathing hitched. For a moment, Shiozaki wasn't sure what he was looking at—then her eyes landed on Midoriya.
…By God.
He was still fighting strong. She'd seen him in the Battle Trial, and assumed that his exceptional skills began and ended in that ballpark—but Shiozaki should've known better. Animals always fought more viciously in a corner, after all.
Midoriya only used one whip, but he used it to masterful effect. He was little more than a green blur, dodging and weaving between hellhounds like he was untouchable. With the lengthy whip, he was an unparalleled artist. Sharp kicks cracked through the air, sending skinnier hellhounds down whilst using the whip to abuse their momentums. Leaping over one monster, he used another's collapse as leverage to slingshot him backwards, landing both heels against a large one's mouth. In five seconds, she saw him pull two hellhound's weights out from under them.
One got too close, and the misty-green armor exploded off of him, shoving the beast away before returning to hug his frame. Ducking under a swipe, he rolled under another's legs and popped up into a flip, evading another's bite. Half-dodging a devastating punch, Midoriya shoved the blow off-course, forcing it to land on a green beast's beak. Blood coated his face, but she saw no wound besides a scrape on his forehead.
Shiozaki could hardly follow his movements. What she could follow, she lost herself in, absorbed in the majesty of his skill. Was this the difference between them? His movements were so smooth, so natural, that she could hardly believe it. It was like he was made for this.
Was he always this strong? This young man who she'd so casually dismissed as a burden?
Beside her, The Boss looked back at Iceman.
"I'm gonna take a little detour. Just don't kill Hekiji. Save him for later. Oh, and Himi? Do whatever it is you do. I don't care."
"Yes sir!" The plain-looking man, Himi, said. The Boss nodded, looked back to Midoriya, and took one step into the open air. Shiozaki, surprised, lunged forward—but she couldn't reach him before he fell out of sight. Iceman and Himi didn't seem to care, however—in fact, they moved on like a death-defying stunt like that was normal. Himi even jumped after him, backflipping in another direction.
Iceman, however, just started sprinting on a self-made ice-path. He was fast, too—gone in a blink. That left Shiozaki alone, staring out in dull shock at the ongoing events. She'd never felt more confused.
"Shio!" Reiko said, calling her name. Snapping out of it, she leaned over the window and remembered her purpose. Her friends still needed saving.
"I'm here!"
[x]
Wind whipped past his ears, blowing through his hair. It cooled his scalp, relaxing him to the point of closing his eyes—then he hit the ground, hard. He landed in a kneel, sending a surging pain through his legs—but a moment later, he stood, fine as ever. Taking a step forward, his kneecap clicked, and that was that.
The dust he kicked up in his landing faded a moment later, revealing the battle to him. There was some commotion behind him—the girl and her friends screaming some nonsense—but he didn't care. He wasn't there for them.
Nor, he thought, was he there for the boy in front of his eyes. Tomura was only here for one reason: to pluck the crow's wings.
Yet, here he was. If he sprinted, he might've beaten Geten to the Plaza, but the moment his eyes laid on the battle, his plans changed. Something chimed in his chest—a resonance. A familiar tingle.
He wasn't sure if his curiosity was for the boy or the monsters he fought. They both radiated nostalgia in droves—though he was certain the Nomus were the greater source in that regard. Tomura was there, after all, when Garaki made them.
There were six of them in the fray, despite MLA's intelligence informing him of eight. That number was faulty to him, however—especially knowing his master only perfected three before his death. Despite all his master's knowledge and power, creating nomus was no easy task. Each was built from the ground up, using quirks from all over the world. Some used artificial quirks and bodies, but no one ever released them from their growing tubes. Artificial-nomus were often runts and too stupid for All for One's preferences. As failures go, they were Garaki's second most numerous examples—at least ten in total.
His fist squeezed, thinking of the bastard. His most numerous failures were his pathetic attempts at replacing Tomura.
Tomura strolled forward, absorbing the battle in blinks. The green-haired boy was evasive, playing a defensive battle—though Tomura couldn't say why. His speed was far outstripping these nomus, yet he only landed decisive blows on occasion.
Green, he named in his head, fought like the leaves in the wind itself—no matter how hard the nomus swung, he just fluttered away. It didn't make sense, at first. No normal human could've kept up—but then it clicked. These weren't Nomu, let alone the rare high-ends—these were the prototypes, the artificials. The weakest of the lot—and the most pathetic.
Heat flushed through his scalp, bringing his casual stroll to a stop. He resisted itching it, knowing it'd only exacerbate the problem—but then the pain redoubled, and he caved.
His fingernails dug between his hair, relieving the unbearable pressure in his scalp. A euphoric twang flowed down his body, culminating in his stomach. Leaning forward, he curled into his gut, trying to get closer to the sensation. He loved the brief reprieve it gave him—before a shadow covered him.
"Hey!" Green screamed. "Watch out!"
Tomura froze, hearing his voice—memories long-suppressed surfaced for a nanosecond before his body moved. Uncurling, he locked his knees and pushed his hips forward, bringing his gloved knuckles soaring up with his full strength. His black glove flew in an arc, slowing for only a moment as it met the soft spot on the jet-black nomu's under-jaw. The massive creature flew backwards as he shook murky blood from his hand.
The nomu landed on its back, skid once, then flipped onto its stomach. Its neck was crooked—and a sharp gash in his neck oozed with artificial life. Steel barbs retracted back into his glove.
Looking aside, he saw Green, frozen, staring at him. Meeting his eyes, the euphoric feeling in Tomura's gut squeezed, morphing back into that familiarity. Then Green squatted, ducking under a vomit-colored nomu, and returned to his ferocious battle.
Where had he seen this kid? He couldn't be older than fifteen, right? It wasn't like Tomura could've known him in the… before times. Neither had he seen Green whilst masquerading as a loser in the slums.
A dark blue nomu tried grappling Green, but he slipped out of it. Slipping under its flank, he twisted its arm out of its socket. As it opened its mouth to scream, Green gagged it with his whip-like appendage—and that's when Tomura noticed his total lack of an arm.
Dark alleyways—a lot of mud. Rain, he believed—though he wasn't sure. Utter, complete filth. Stabbing pain in his gut. Piping hot fury. A lopsided kid.
Ravenous, unending hunger. A panini.
He—or rather, the person he'd been at the time—was furious. So damn angry—and hungry, and on the run, and a million other things. Tomura forgot about that encounter, never once considering why his stomach seemed a little less empty in the following days.
Now, he remembered that little pest, feeding him and trying to help him out.
The muscles in his neck clenched, then spasmed. Bringing a hand to his face, he studied the bare skin of his right hand. Swallowing down a thick glob of saliva, he put it down. No, he decided. He wasn't shaking. That would be absurd.
…As would a stranger like this kid helping out a miscreant like him. Like always, his memory was playing tricks on him, he supposed.
When he rushed forward, it wasn't for Green's sake, or repaying some debt he illusioned himself into having—he did it to extinguish the fugly monsters Garaki had the arrogance to call "Scientific Marvels." He promised himself this, even through the painful squeezing of his gut.
Sprinting into the fray, he shoved Green out of the way of an incoming strike—a two fisted hammer-blow—and caught it. The force echoed through his body, cracking the ground beneath him. Matching the ground, cracks began to spread throughout the nomu's arm. It screamed at him, clicking its tongue as it tried pulling away. Tomura didn't try to stop it—he couldn't have, because the wrist he grabbed disappeared.
Decay crept up the creature's form inch by inch, then foot by foot, and then it faded. Dust in the wind. The other artificial nomu froze—even the one trying to eat Green froze. Likewise, Green paused for a moment, mouth agape.
"You… can kill them?" He asked. His voice was scratchy and thin—a perfect imitation of Tomura's. Up close, Green looked different than he thought—a giant, coarse scar cornered his jaw. It eased his concerns. No way this was the same kid.
With his curiosity sated, his attention returned to the nomus. For a moment, he couldn't say why they made no moves against him, but then remembered. They were stupid and cowardly. If a monster meaner than themselves showed up…
The artificial nomus turned tail and sprinted away—back towards their caretaker, presumably.
"Oh no you don't!" Green said, closing his jaw and slinging himself after them with his whip-arm. He closed the gap by half in a blink—but by then, it was too late.
Garaki's creations pissed him off.
Blitzing past the flying kid, he sprinted between the artificial creations and tapped three beasts before Green landed. Each beast screamed in agony—or at least, they tried. He tapped one on the throat and another on the chest. They gurgled to death. Only one was able to complain.
Before he redirected his course to catch the other two, Green recovered himself and flipped forward, snagging the final two by the ankles. The beasts squealed like pigs as Green reeled them in, putting them within Tomura's contact range.
He was on the closest nomu easily, rotting its leg away with a touch—but the second was a problem. Like a cornered animal, it flailed with wild abandon. By chance, it kicked him in the chest, forcing his lungs empty and sending him flying backwards. Stars flickered behind his eyes. His vision turned white for the split second before his back hit the ground.
Walking, or rather stumbling. Tomura—little Tenko, at the time—stumbling through the streets. That boy passed by thousands of people, blood on his hands, hunger stabbing his stomach, fear molding his lips. He must've been a walking beacon of tragedy, yet somehow, no one noticed little Tenko.
Hana coated his cheek. Grandma and Pops didn't leave much of a trace, but they still covered his arms and tummy in small amounts. Pops would've helped him if he saw little Tenko on the street, hurt and hungry. But he was dead. No one ever helped him, except Master, except Double.
Splitting, burning pain scorched his neurons. Thinking of Double physically hurt, like an iron brand shoved between his eyes.
…Was he misremembering again? He couldn't say…
His family's ashes were long gone. Stumbling through alleyways, wearing a blood-soaked shirt that couldn't hide his hunger-ravished ribs, he couldn't help but feel the bitter echo of his childhood. He was taller, but no less directionless… If no one helped him when he was cute and small, surely no one would've helped a ratty, grotesque man. No one except Green—
His eyes opened.
Something was stabbing him—not drawing blood, but damn close, and the pressure wasn't letting up. He tried to breathe, but something was crushing his lungs. Blinking away the white blindness, he sat up, and instantly regretted it. Looking down, the steel plate guarding his chest was concave. Slipping a hand into the plate's sleeve, he tossed it aside. The moment it was out, he took a deep, heavenly breath. It clattered beside him with a loud bang. A foot-shaped imprint deformed it to the point of uselessness.
Getting to his feet, his thoughts were slow and quiet. Pressure was building in his stomach and slowly floating upwards. It passed through his lungs and heart, settling at the base of his neck. It scorched his throat like bile, but instead of a wet, soft boiling, it felt like true fire.
Two Greens fought two nomus, their black whips wrapped around their legs. The Greens beat on the nomus relentlessly, fighting them with far more aggression than they'd displayed before. Their blows were viscous in ways their evasiveness wasn't—they were no longer the untouchable leaf, dancing through blows. Now they were the chainsaw, and he was roaring.
Their images solidified as Tomura's double-vision fixed itself. The two Greens morphed into one hero and the two nomus morphed into a victim.
Pulling the nomu's weight out from under him, Green launched forward, bringing his heel overhead as he twisted in a flip. His kick cracked against the nomu's beak, knocking the back of its head against the stone. Dazed, it struggled to get up, and only managed to because Green retreated. He didn't truly relent, however—he blitzed back in a moment later with his smoke in a disc-like form. Flinging his arm out, the disc mimicked him, flying forward and through the nomu's left arm, severing it.
Reattaching its arm, the nomu threw everything it had at Green. A wild barrage of wind-distorting punches occupied the space Green's head usually sat—but Green was always a step ahead. Though the nomu's left arm was slower than the right, it was still wicked fast. In this brief moment, Green might've eclipsed Tomura's speed as the nomu could only punch the boy's shadow, never quite catching up. In a cry of fury, it over extended, and that was its end.
Green mist gathered around Green's real arm as he punched—and despite being a foot away, the punch still landed successfully. Smoke launched from his fist in a ball, slamming into the nomu's gut. It didn't stop there, however.
The ball of smoke pulled away before condensing into a needle. With a war-cry, Green flung the stake forward, stabbing straight through the beast's eye and into its brain. It screamed, and tried throwing itself out of harm's way—but then something gruesome happened. The smoke-stake sunk deeper into its brain and it slumped.
Green beckoned with four fingers. The body dragged forward, pulled by the skull with an invisible string. With his fingers touching his palm, he released each finger individually, like counting to four. Each movement jerked the Nomu in a different direction, like a puppet. It was clearly painful, but it made no complaint—its brain was a dark green ooze.
Curling his pointer and middle fingers up, the nomu straightened onto its hind legs and spread its arms.
The puppeteer wore a hard face—scrunched and ugly and a little pale—but it was focused. His eyes were green marbles, carved by Michaelangelo to represent the concept of absolution. Green's breath came in and out hard—like he'd just ran a marathon. It occurred to Tomura that the boy might've been fighting these monsters for some time.
His expression didn't quite match Tomura's original impression of him. It held none of the sympathy, none of the serenity. Guilty, yes, remorseful, no.
This was not the naive face of a bright hero student, nor the kind face of a stranger willing to help Tomura at his lowest. This was someone pushed to the brink—with more vindictiveness than mercy, and more resolution than hesitance. Blood dripped from his lips like a predator after a successful hunt.
It made his stomach curl, but he recognized the expression in the mirror.
Before Green could eviscerate the abomination, however, something stung Tomura's nose and girlish screams filled his ears. Turning, his eyes caught onto the scene right as the fetid, nauseating smell grew a thousandfold stronger.
The stupid vine-haired girl was hanging half-way out of Geten's entrance, trying to get her friends out. It shouldn't have been hard, but after watching her dive into Mimic's trap, he couldn't discount her total incompetence. She had both hands reached out, grabbing two separate palms of her classmates—a black haired kid and a silver-haired kid.
In one giant pull, she managed to lift them into the remnants of Mimic's mouth. The others, however, were not so lucky. In a blink, they were consumed. From under their clothes, black sludge burst out and consumed their torsos. Before the vine girl could reach out for them, the sludge wrapped around their arms, legs, and finally their skulls. They screamed—all girls but for one purple haired boy—and then the sludge covered their faces. The sludge just shrunk, with them inside, and disappeared.
"Agh–ack!" Green gurgled. Tearing his gaze back to the kid, Tomura's eyes widened. Like the kids overhead, the sludge also grew around him. Unlike those ones, however, Green was somewhat prepared. Pulling his smoke free from the nomu's body, he tried eroding the sludge away. When that didn't work, he resorted to simpler tactics. With his hand, he tore chunks away from his throat as it encapsulated him, but it only enclosed his fist against his neck and trapped him further. His black whip thrashed, but the black sludge devoured it, too—and after a moment, it enclosed his whole body chin down.
Fear replaced his focused expression. His green marbles settled on Tomura's, concentration giving to panic. The sludge bulged around his shoulder. Green managed to push a hand out, breaking the surface ever-so-slightly. His hand grasped for the air, searching for something, anything. It reached towards Tomura for help.
"H-help…" Green said, his begging filled with chokes as the foul sludge crept closer and closer to his mouth.
Tomura blinked. The boy's face changed again in its fear—it was softer, more rounded—familiar. Had Tomura's delusion actually happened? Did someone actually help him when he needed it?
A sudden rage suffused his heart, burning it alight. This sludge came from Johnny—Garaki's most useful little pet. It could teleport anyone the quirk had seen at any time, at the detriment of its health.
As much as Tomura loathed Garaki, he hated the Crow even more. It infuriated him even thinking about his master's hard work being used by the idealist man-child Chisaki. That wasn't even considering Hekiji and Rappa, who alone made him want to burn the world to ashes.
Double wasn't the first person to show him kindness, but he was the first friend to show him respect. Master was his teacher, his guide—not someone Tomura could ever hope to call a peer. The old fart who died and left Tomura his shop wasn't much better. He'd been a bastard from day one, with no loving family left. Tomura was just the only option, in the end.
Redestro, likewise, was just greedy. He didn't even want Tomura—he just wanted other people to not have him. He was his boss in the loosest sense, and his partner in the most abstract. That just left Double. A friend, point blank.
Dead, point blank. For his sake.
Double literally pulled him from the wreckage of his old life and gave him a new purpose. Fuck if it was on Redestro's orders, it was Double's call in the end. And now he was dead for it, in the end. First was Hana. Then Master, murdered in the death match with All Might. Then it was Double, murdered in a terrorist tantrum by Master's usurpers.
Now, it was Green, stolen under his nose by the very same cretins who took Double from him. Everyone who showed him kindness met horrible ends.
It pissed him off.
His blood turned to fire, his muscles to magma. Heat flushed his whole body, a wave of unbearable itchiness devouring every inch of skin he had to offer. This time, he couldn't scratch himself—the spasming thunder in his nerves commanded his whole body as his vision warped gray and crimson.
He disliked Garaki. He despised Chisaki. He loathed Hekiji. He would murder Rappa a second time if given the chance, just for the euphoria. He hated his Master for dying and taking the one thing he hated most. All Might ignited him, his memory alone sending searing cascades of boiling-hot anger through his neurons. He hated his father. He hated being told what to do.
When he moved, he didn't move as Tomura, or as Tenko, but as a maelstrom of disaster, forged in the world's sick heart. His speed was inhuman, his power paranormal, his will unshakable.
After stopping Chisaki's plot with Green, he'd raze this world to the ground. Redestro might not want Tomura for Tomura, but he would serve him in Double's stead. Tomura would reforge the world Double fought for, even if it meant abandoning everything Tenko stood for. He would kill Chisaki.
Tomura wasn't a nomu, like Garaki wanted, nor a superhuman like his master intended. His strength was more than a man, but it wasn't thanks to implants or bioengineering. More than a man, he was hate.
In a blink, he was on Green. His fingers tore deep gouges in the slime covering his body. He didn't care that it smelled like feces, or that its thickness was just as inconsistent—he didn't care that he was probably scratching Green beneath it all—so long as he freed the brat, he didn't care.
Black sludge crept up the boy's neck, and he ripped it off. It re-covered Green's freed arm, and he pulled that away too. He tore some from Green's chest, then his legs, and his armless flank. Tomura ripped and tore until he could see the boy's shoddy hero suit—but as he reached for the next chunk, it happened.
Bursting from within his armor-plate sleeves, black sludge began to consume him, too. The smell, already strong enough to burn his nose from ten feet away, rose to new heights. It was like breathing pure distilled ethanol. He choked, but didn't stop—and now with Green free, they worked together to pull themselves free of Johnny's grasp.
Careful not to touch Green with his bare fingers, they grasped each other and began detangling themselves. With each other's help, they managed to delay Johnny's power far beyond the norm. If they could last just a little longer, Johnny would grow too strained to continue, and would have to give up.
Already, the black sludge's strength was waning, and its thickness was growing less and less consistent. It crept over Green's arm again, but he didn't even need Tomura's help pulling himself free. Likewise, Tomura pulled off a thick conglomerate growing over his chest with ease. Only thin, mucus-like strands hanging on by hair-thin threads remained. This time, it didn't regrow.
Tossing the sludge aside, he paused, enjoying the feeling of defiance. Even now Garaki's creations meant nothing to him. Likewise, Green seemed to relax as he tore a large chunk from his leg and mimicked Tomura's toss. It didn't regrow.
He glanced around. Immobile sludge clumps surrounded them.
"Where could the others have gone?" He muttered, quiet and scratchy. Tomura shrugged.
"It's Johnny's quirk, so anywhere, really—though it must be tired by now. Its range for activation must be shot. They're probably still in this stupid dome."
"J-Johnny? Like… that little nomu?"
Tomura only raised an eyebrow.
"Duh. Little guy can't fight for shit and gets tonsillitis every time he uses his literal shit-quirk. Surprised he hasn't died yet."
Green worked his jaw, setting his disbelieving eyes on Tomura's serious ones. He didn't say anything for a moment as he studied Tomura. There was an odd gleam in his eyes—something Tomura couldn't really place. At first, it was almost like sadness, but then it shifted. Caution crept over his face as Tomura's words sunk in.
"How… How do you know about the nomu? You're…"
All at once, Green's green eyes turned to dinner plates. He took a half-step back, surprised.
"W-wait, y-y-your hair is blue, but… those black streaks! That scar on your lip, your build, your… aura… You're that guy! You're—"
Before he could finish what he was saying, however, his wide eyes flicked over Tomura's ear. Something rustled behind him, cracking the stone below their feet.
"Watch out!" Green said, before lunging forward. He shoved Tomura to the side just as a massive shadow bulldozed straight through where he was standing, tackling Green. Tomura managed to brush his hand against the nomu's leg, but it wasn't enough. The monster's whole weight slammed Green into the floor just as Tomura fell on his ass.
Green screamed in pain, as did the nomu. Its leg was already gone, and its torso was cracking apart as well—but this one was different. It was a little bigger than the others, a little meaner—a little closer to a true Nomu. The best of the worst.
It fought through the pain, guiding its death throes into one last attack. Clutching its hands together overhead, it slammed down with its full, uncontested strength, cratering the ground beneath it.
"No!" Tomura screamed, trying to get to his feet as the monster crushed Green—but he couldn't make it. The sludge on the ground, scattered and weak, suddenly surged back to life. All their work discarding it came back to bite him as the discarded globs wrapped around Tomura faster than he could stop it. He slapped it with his bare hand, but his decay did nothing to the shifty liquid. It consumed him, swallowing his vision faster than he thought possible for little Johnny.
The last thing he saw was the nomu fade to dust, revealing an empty crater below him.
[x]
AN: This chapter was kinda messy at first, but I think the second half was pretty good. Coulda been better, but I'm tired. Also, frost, I very specifically called you out separately from the other group. You're a detractor, but I can't hate you lol. You're spitting.
Review!~