Chapter 15: Reminisce
"That's all for class." The mustached teacher said with authority, setting down a stack of folders with their daily quizzes tucked away. "Be sure to go over the readings through the weekend, and don't forget to comment on each other's discussions on Kanvas!"
Chairs pushed out from desks and the class collectively groaned or whined quietly to themselves. Most of his fellow peers rolled their eyes or huffed their annoyance at Mr. Hisashi's assignments that were constantly given out. Many of which were so dull and bland that it made watching grass grow more exciting.
The more studious, like him, gave their own silent affirmations to the teacher. It was far better to take care of things such as homework sooner rather than later. If he wanted to show off that he was well-prepared and organized; his records ought to reflect it.
Wasn't a better way than by breezing through essays and quizzes like they were trivial tasks. At least, that's what Shinso thought.
His classmates on the other hand…?
He peered over his shoulder to see a handful of them already yapping on about procrastinating and heading on over to the mall downtown.
It was painfully obvious that they didn't take the General Studies course really seriously… Who wouldn't? All around him were unfortunate souls who couldn't get into the Hero Course. Unlike them, however, he adamantly refused to stay in this field.
Two girls sitting behind him, which he likened to loud harpies, began their daily yapping.
"Did you hear about Mirko…?" Harpy number one said with a deflated tone.
"Oof…" Harpy number two took a deep breath. "Yeah. Really sucks what happened to her. Hope she makes it through surgery."
Shinso couldn't help but eavesdrop more on their conversation about the incident involving the infamous Mirko hero which happened last week. Articles and rumors kept the whole situation afloat.
Even the more vocal of Musutafu citizens, as well as those here in the U.A., called the Police Force's attendance in the matter a complete and colossal failure.
Some blamed Mirko for finally getting what she deserved for being too arrogant in her patrols – others defended her, saying something along the lines that she fought valiantly against some crooks who had the upper hand.
He still shook his head at the ridiculous claims that he was somehow helping or aiding the villains who attacked the USJ facility.
How could he? He had an alibi; Shinso was in class the day that was happening, so it was cleared.
Still didn't stop the other idiots who wanted to spread fear by claiming he wasn't in class. The fucking assholes.
His eyes shifted over to the usual suspects of girls and boys in their groups, whispering about whatever pointless thing was happening now.
His posture drooped lower at the thought of when the whole debacle happened. His classmates still occasionally passing around the usual rumor or two that he was secretly in cahoots with the Control Killer. All of it just idiotic talk.
"How else do you think those villains got into USJ? He must've handed them the keys and map!"
"Doesn't make sense why they didn't lock his creepy ass with the other criminals who got caught. I mean, didn't they say that the Control Killer was there? What's to say they weren't given advice by someone on the inside…?"
But now their attention entirely focused on the whole Mirko situation, which left him temporarily free of most harassment. It was a breath of fresh air, to say the least.
The bell for lunch rang and everyone quickly left the classroom, many of them eager to go check out the 'survivors' of the USJ attack.
At first Shinso thought it was a waste of time, but then again… He needed to get his motive out there. That he wanted to be a hero. To get away and solidify that he isn't some closeted psychopath that people think he is.
He followed closely behind the herd of varying students making their way down the hall to get to class 1-A.
"Woah… so that's them?"
"You think they're tough? T-that they beat those villains?"
"They don't look like much."
Shinso wanted to get past the giant congregation of students peering into class 1-A's classroom, but instead of getting by – they all whispered and parted for him, their eyes narrowing into suspicion and fear.
Tch… Really hoped they'd not focus on me.
"It's him…."
"C'mon… let's go; we don't wanna kill ourselves."
"Look who it is!"
As much as he wanted to retort back to their claims, Shinso figured it'd be better to not engage in their stupid rumors and suspicions. He wanted to see what the competition was like, that's all.
In and out.
He pushed past a few of the other students that were too reluctant or not afraid of him, trying to get a look in at the supposed all-mighty Class 1-A – the very class that tussled with the villains during the USJ attack not too long ago.
Shinso's eyes locked with a loud-mouthed ass that kept calling the other students extras and background characters. He was cocky, egotistical, and had too much of a potty mouth on him.
He continued to scan around the room, taking note of the students inside to see if any of them seemed interesting enough to keep an eye out for when the festival began.
"Out of my way, Control Killer Jr." The loudmouth demanded.
"That's not my name. Besides, I'm just here to—"
"Don't care; out of my way." He jostled against him, rudely pushing past while giving him a light shove as he walked away."
This was his chance; his moment to get out and transfer onto the Hero course. This wasn't a scouting mission for him. It was simply his own personal declaration of war to those who didn't deserve to be in that course – like that one. That wasn't a future Pro; it was a future egomaniac in the making.
If he could prove to the world that he had what it takes to be a hero, then that's all that mattered. There was no way in hell he was going to keep having this negative reputation plastered over his name.
He finished up his little declaration and left, content with getting his presence out there. It was time to get out of this ridiculous fad of rumors and suspicions. No more ghost stories of him somehow working with the villains. No more speculations of him begin in cahoots with the Control Killer of all people.
Just two weeks…. Two weeks until I can achieve my dream.
His usual commute to and from the U.A. High School was often filled with common banter, random hero entrances, and the day-to-day life of people here in downtown Musutafu.
The air was hot and humid today due to the oncoming season of Spring. Trees and bushes regained their usual shrubs and leaves.
Cars, bicycles, and joggers were all out and about, doing their daily routines of life itself.
Shinso sighed and scratched his head as he peered down at the news on his phone. Most of what he saw while walking down the sidewalk were articles of the recent attacks that happened last week.
Others were click-bait articles attempting to paint the picture that it was the Control Killer's doing – that they managed to wound one of the most powerful heroes, that being Mirko, and putting her out of commission for a while so another vile machination could happen.
It's been a whole week since that incident, and people are still trying to milk the idea for what it's worth. At least until something else juicy comes along for those types of internet vultures.
"Idiots, all of them…" He mumbled to himself as he stashed his phone away and continued to walk back home.
He'd really hoped that the hype and gossip around the Control Killer would be done with by now considering that the U.A. Sports Festival is coming up in a few weeks. Everybody was talking about how they wanted to show off their abilities and whatnot.
It'd make complete sense to hype yourself and those around you for such a spectacular and annual event.
Shinso glared at the ground.
There were always a couple of people who kept passing around the idea that it'd be a perfect spot for the Control Killer to attack once again.
What complete nonsense; it was so damn stupid. No sane person, villain or not, would have the mental capacity to think that the most heavily guarded, and most anticipated event of all time, would be a prime target.
It was gonna be his biggest chance at getting into the Hero course, and if something like that happened? All hell would break lose, and people would lose even more trust with him.
If there was any to even begin with…
There were more memories of his classmates' conversations that he eavesdropped in on swirling around in his head, and it further dampened his mood.
He just wanted to head home and forget about that nonsense. He was going to prove to them and to everyone else that he has what it takes to be a genuine, good Hero. The Sports Festival was his one and only chance at that, and more.
He looked upward to see a billboard playing a short clip of All-Might saving the day once again, and looking damn right heroic doing it…
Another ad played for Endeavour and a little message soon afterwards talking about suicide and mental health, with the flaming Pro giving advice.
The sight of their abilities almost sent him into a downer mood, but Shinso shook himself out of his thoughts. He stopped at a crosswalk – waiting for the cars to pass on by.
A pair of teens jostled past him as the green light signaled go, and he grunted in annoyance.
"Watch where you're going." He said nonchalantly, but like any middle-school kid, the young boys ignored his words and kept on running. "Tch…"
He had a lot of things on his plate – writing a twelve-page paper; drudging up a slide show for a project; going over history lessons on quirks and their respective effects on society and the economy; and contacting his group members on when to meet up to practice for presenting.
More headaches and work for me….
He sighed dejectedly and continued his way – moving to take a left from the busy downtown area towards the street leading further up to his neighborhood.
The two-story suburban buildings on each side of the street became clearer, and the fatigue from his commute was starting to settle into his bones.
Shinso couldn't wait to get into those U.A. dorms that were being paraded around for a while. It'd make this whole commute non-existent and save him some extra hours studying.
The bright sun glared down onto his back and made it a little unbearable with his school uniform. Sooner or later, U.A. ought to be switching the uniform dress code to suit a warmer climate.
He hated the restrictive feeling of so many layers in such a jacket. He unbuttoned it and swung it over his shoulder – feeling the cool breeze finally brushing against his skin, sending a slight shiver up his arm and shoulders. Shinso sighed in relief and felt a little freer.
The foul and sour smell of body odor soon invaded his nostrils as a man, ten-times larger than an obese person ought to be, struggled to walk on over to his spot at a stop-sign and stand beside him.
Even though he wasn't too close, Shinso could hear the odd gurgle coming from the man's bloated belly.
"Do you got the time…?" The man said laboriously as he pointed at Shinso's phone.
Shinso quickly averted his eyes from the man's stomach. "Three thirty in the afternoon." He said, scrunching up his nose.
"Hah…. Thanks, thought I was gonna be late." He walked off and, as he did, the man passed gassed, and left a foul odor which lingered in Shinso's nose.
A mixture of feces, eggs, and milk permeated the area as others tried to waft the smell away or walk off entirely.
He gagged and coughed with the other pedestrians as it was getting worse.
"W-what the fuck did that pig eat….? A corpse?!" A bystander said aloud, voicing what everyone was thinking.
The bile was beginning to rise up into his throat at the horrific taste forming in the back of his throat.
"Fix your hygiene…." He mumbled but the smell just kept getting even more foul.
When the fat man left, his odor remained. Even nearby pedestrians were walking away, trying to evade the smell.
It was at that point that he had to rush on over to the nearby park across the street, holding his mouth, trying his best to not vomit in public.
Shinso slammed the door to the bathroom and dashed on to a stall. He heaved into the ceramic bowl's contents as the smell began to leave and fade off…
He puked again, and hell it made his stomach churn and hurt as he kept emptying the contents of his breakfast and lunch.
He'd never puked this much… It was making him feel weak and light-headed.
"What the hell…?" He coughed and looked up at the bowl – pieces of it getting damp and collapsing in on itself.
Shinso peered closer to see that it was neatly folded to look like paper…. Almost like an origami version of a toilet. His eyes looked upward to see the stall around him beginning to fold in on itself.
Countless eyes popped up around the stall as the whole entire bathroom began to shift and change.
Before he could cry out, the entire thing clammed shut on him, trapping him in a tightly packed wrapping of paper.
"Mmmbll?!" He tried to scream or yell for help, but his voice was muffled by the paper as it continued to shape and keep him restrained.
He heard voices talking as they grabbed him by his head and ankles, taking him somewhere.
Shinso's heart was racing at the fact of being kidnapped. The teen squirmed and jerked around until his captors threw him in the back of some van.
No, not like this…. Not like this. I can't die. I refuse to.
He reaffirmed himself that he'd be saved, whether by the police or by a Pro Hero. This wasn't how he was going to die. His goals weren't achieved. He had to live!
Shinso felt something hard hit the back of his head before he saw darkness.
Shinso's body shook as icy water splashed against him. The ice cubes from bucket of water slipped into his shirt and slid down his chest, chilling him further. He coughed and sputtered out some water that got into his mouth. "W-what the hell…...?"
His eyes tried to look around to gain a better grasp of where he was, and he briefly saw expensive furnishings of a home. His eyes finally acclimated, and he got the visage of an elderly looking man dressed in a fine old-fashioned kimono and hakama. Alongside the elder was a buff-looking woman with a wild mane of white hair.
He was sitting in a metal chair with his hands tied behind his back. Looking down, Shinso saw his mouth was taped off, but how did they know about his quirk?
"Ahh, you're finally awake. Good. Good." The old man spoke with kindness.
Shinso's eyes wandered to the left to see that fat pig man from earlier, who made him so nauseous earlier, disemboweled – his enlarged intestines hanging out over his belly as he was slumped over in a corner.
The stench was foul still, and it was beginning to waft on over to him. His body looked fresh and likely died only moments ago.
On each side of the fat man were two others – a lithe woman with a scythe for an arm had a similar situation. Her entire upper midsection had been sliced by something – likely a sword or a machete. Beside her, a man riddled with bruises, a broken neck, and some origami littered around his bent legs.
The old man in front of Shinso moved his chin back to face him. "Don't worry about them. They won't be harming you any longer. I made sure of it." A dry chuckle came from his throat.
"Honestly, what was my old friend thinking – trusting a ragtag band of crooks to bring you to me." He shook his head in disappointment and clicked his tongue. "A shame we had to kill that origami one, though. His transportation quirk would've come in handy for smuggling lots of things. I mean…. He got you to me in a tiny little paper crane!" He barked out a laugh before settling back into a serious expression. "Still, if I'd known it was this easy to get you, I'd have not gone through the hassle of using their ilk. Ah, no matter."
Shinso was sweating at what was possibly going on here; he saw the giant Yakuza-like crest behind the old man. He was in an office of sorts. On each side of the elder were men dressed in fine suits with mean glares.
"Now, I know what you're thinking; I'm not going to kill you. Quite the opposite in fact, dear boy. You see, if it weren't for me, that piggish brute over there was going to eat you." He gestured again to the corpses and limped around him with a cane, circling him like prey. "I prevented that thanks to my quick thinking."
What do they want… money?
The old man stopped in front of him, bending down to his eye level. "I'm going to undo the tape around your mouth, and I trust you won't attempt to use that quirk of yours on me."
Shinso's eyes watched as the man's wrinkly fingers ripped away the tape and he gasped for air. He was about to order him to do something, but he felt the cold iron of a barrel pressed into the back of his head.
His heart began pumping in his chest and he was beginning to sweat more profusely. Shinso was starting to get nervous.
"Ahh, you see, I knew you were going to try something like that. But… I'm a very civil and generous man. All I want is your aid with a particular someone. It's all I ask, really. Nothing too major, I assure you." His wrinkled hands reached out to take a photo from the muscular woman and he placed it in his lap.
"I'm assuming you know who this is?"
Shinso's eyes scanned over the picture of a red-headed woman. She was wearing an office shirt, black slacks, and a tie.
Nothing too special or meaningful to him other than the fact she looked normal. "I don't know who this is… Look, let me go. I don't know why you have me here, or what you're doing. Just leave me out of it. I don't have any issue with you at all." Shinso pleaded and even gave him a panicked look.
The gun cocking back its hammer didn't ease his worries one bit.
With that, the old man frowned and sighed heavily. "Are you sure?"
What's with you? I don't know!
Shinso glared and wanted desperately to command the guy behind him to help him, but this wasn't possible. There were too many people here. Two guards beside the old man; one behind him; the muscular woman; and potentially even more outside this study room.
"I-I really don't know who that is."
"You're lying, and I was hoping we weren't going to go down this path."
"I-I'm telling you! "I never met—" Another polaroid photo was tossed into his lap and Shinso's eyes widened at it. His heart dropped and rose to his throat at the same time.
T-that's impossible…. I-I would've….
There he was at a train-station, in one of the cars, looking awfully comfortable talking to that very same red-headed woman. He was handing her something and she had her hand on his shoulder, looking at him with a smile.
His head was reeling at the photo. It took all his effort to skim through his head when that interaction happened, and nothing came up. He drew blanks.
"T-that's…. obviously photo shopped."
Again, the elder sighed disappointingly. "You're denying the truth, boy. You're working with her."
"Her?! Who is that?!" Shinso cried out. He attempted to scooch up closer to try and plead his case. "I don't know who that is—" He was smacked across the face by the muscular woman.
"Mind your tone, kid. Speak with respect to the Boss." She said with a piercing glare as she kept her hand poised to strike him again.
"The Control Killer, who else, boy?" The elder was losing his kind tone as it was slowly being replaced with an indignant tone. "Speak honestly now."
Shinso couldn't wrap his head around what was being told to him.
Him… being in cohorts with the Control Killer? The idea and notion were foreign to him. He'd never willingly team up with the very thing that's giving him such a terrible reputation.
And the photo, where had he seen that train-station and woman before?
Shinso struggled to search his brain for answers, and just like before, nothing came.
"I-I'm being honest! I really don't know what is going on. This is all some sort of misunderstanding. You must've gotten the wrong kid!"
Another incriminating picture was tossed into his lap, and it further sank his heart.
"Still denying what is true, boy?"
Again, he denied and tried to tell them that he had no recollection of meeting this woman, let alone plotting with her.
"Tch, I think we're going to have to do it my way, boss. He's not caving in to peer-pressure by your photos. Let me take over." She snapped her fingers at one of her lackeys that he couldn't see. "Oi, go get the pliers. We'll just have to rip the information out of him bit by bit."
Shinso's eyebrows shot up and shook his head as the woman was handed a rusty pair of pliers. He felt dread continue to form in the bottom of his stomach.
His mouth was beginning to dry up and a shivering cold shot down his back.
"Start with his fingernails first and, if he still doesn't cooperate, move onto his toes." The old man gave him a pitied look. "I really didn't want to do this to you, boy, but you leave me no choice. This isn't personal by any means." The old man said, leaving him alone in the study room with the woman.
She knelt and spoke to him with a semi-half pitied look.
"Sorry, kid. I don't take much pleasure in doing this." Her masculine voice tried to quell and ease his growing anxiety and dread, but it didn't work. Not when the cold metal of pliers pressed against his left index finger and latched onto its nail.
She pulled and tugged at it slowly.
He gritted his teeth as he could do nothing but try and shake in the chair he was tied to.
His eyes watched as the pliers gripped and pulled his nail from the nail bed. The small little flesh from his nail tore away and the pain was ridiculously excruciating. It hurt like hell, and he cursed, trying to activate his quirk to get out of it, and yet the gun pressed into his head prevented him…
"Sorry, kid. This is just business. Tell us what we need to know, and ya can keep nine of your fingernails." She waved the remnants of his nail in front of him with the pliers. "We can stop here if you cooperate." The muscular woman said as she latched onto the next fingernail.
"W-wait!"
She stopped and looked up at him.
"A-all…." He gulped; his face drenched in sweat. "I know is…. That I might've met her on that train! That's all I remember! S-she…"
His eyes widened at what he was possibly going to say, and his throat was going dry at the mention of it. "She must've controlled me! I-I might be under her control without knowing! I swear!"
The woman's eyes didn't look like she was buying it as she continued onto the next fingernail. "Sorry, but those photos of you speakin' with her say otherwise. We're gonna keep goin' till you say something useful." Again, the same pain wracked his senses as he felt his middle fingernail get wretched from its roots.
Shinso continued to scream as he went through hell. The pain was beginning to darken the edges of his vision as he began to pass out from the excruciating torture.
The doors to a train car opened slowly and an all-too familiar scent of a flowery perfume invaded his nostrils. A gust of wind from the outside rushed into the car as a woman sat beside him.
Her bright blue denim jeans and brown jacket were the first things he noticed about her. Though, his eyes shifted upward to see a light reddish hue of red hair on her head.
She spotted his gaze and smiled before briskly walking on over to sit beside him. "Hello there. Do you mind if I take this seat?"
"No. Not at all." He scooched on over to give her room as her perfume continued to slip into his nose. The scent a hint of white jasmine mixed with something more pleasant. It made him feel at ease as his nervousness began to waver into a serene calmness.
"Can I help you?"Shinso asked politely, as he looked into her eyes – their color a unique type he'd never seen before.
She didn't answer for a while and waited a few minutes to process his question, it seemed. She giggled into her hand and placed a hand onto his shoulder. "You definitely can, Shinso. You see that woman over there?" She pointed over to a middle-aged woman in an office dress on the phone with someone.
Shinso's heart began pumping fast. Like it was urging him to not listen for whatever reason. However, his mouth opened for him. "Yeah. I see her."
Again, the woman gave him a heart-warming smile that eased his anxiousness into relaxation. "Good. I want to see how your quirk works. Tell that woman, when you and her get off this train, to kill herself. Make it an accident for me."
The whole train-car dissipated into nothingness as he suddenly found himself outside of the train. He looked up to see he was at the train station that led to his home.
People were recording something grizzly on the tracks and an ambulance siren wailed in the distance. Beside him, the same woman from before smiled and placed her hand on his shoulder, offering him a reassuring nod. "You have a really, really useful quirk, Shinso. You did a good job. It looked natural."She patted him on the back as he backed off.
His eyes peered down to see the mangled body of the innocent woman he used his quirk on. Her body's many parts littered down the track as it dragged her corpse along for a long time.
"I'll talk to you again soon, Shinso." She spoke to him with such odd familiarity. Shinso awoke in a cold sweat, still finding himself strapped to a metal chair with all of his nails plucked out. He looked around to see he was locked in a damp, cold room somewhere with the lights out.
His torturers have long since gone and likely will return tomorrow. He wept and tried to make sense of the odd dream he had. It was the only thing that could take his mind off the pain he still felt all around his body.
AN: Ahh, flashbacks... my old nemesis in writing. That and my super-duper old fanfics I wrote in the past. We all have 'em. Locked away somewhere in the deepest recess of our computers, journals, or minds. Mine are shamelessly still up on this site, and I want to tend to them someday, but without the old notes I had on them from my former laptop, I fear they may never see the light of day again. I weep for my connoisseurs who've known me since the beginning that yearn to see Something Wicked Comes This Way or A Dark Soul & Painter Within Remnant - only to realize that those tales may be lost to time and an 11-year old laptop. But then again, they're sorta like living art pieces. Flawed and roughed up art, mind you, but art nonetheless. If you do search those up, be warned: I was a young lad at the time. You'd see a more foolish and less-wiser Sinakin in terms of writing XD
Old fanfics aside, I imagine it's the bane of many writers alike when it comes to writing flashbacks. Trying to fit it into a story while ensuring the format works... bleh. I just wish I magically had the idea of how to actually utilize them properly, so I hope the mixture of italics/bold lettering would differentiate it better. Though, I doubt I'd likely use this mechanic/writing tool in the future. Too many rules and situational needs for it to properly make reoccurences in this.
Long AN, I know XD
Hope all is well with you all and that Spring is treating you fairly! :D