Authors Note: I added Inasa and Hagakure to class 1A from last chapter, so for those who have been following the story feel free to read the ending of the chapter again.
Borrowed Breath
The loading screen's soft glow illuminated the dark wisps that constantly leaked from Shihai's skin. She'd gotten better at controlling them - most days they just looked like shadows clinging too close, rather than the writhing darkness that had terrified her kindergarten teacher into calling the Department.
Respawn. Die. Respawn again. Her character's deaths were starting to blur together, but at least virtual worlds didn't care that her quirk literally manifested as "living darkness." The Department had such creative names for it in their reports: "umbral manipulation," "shadow genesis," "void manifestation." As if scientific terms made it less scary. Less villainous.
Her last evaluation still stung: "Quirk presents with concerning aesthetic similarities to known villain archetypes." Because apparently even darkness needed a psychological profile these days.
The notification light blinked on her phone - probably another automated reminder about her monthly quirk counseling session. The ones where they asked the same questions over and over: "Have you experienced any aggressive impulses?"Are you having thoughts about misusing your quirk?" "Do you understand why certain quirk expressions need additional monitoring?"
But the message that popped up wasn't from the Department. No official letterhead, no registration numbers, no carefully worded warnings about proper quirk management:
"Tired of living in their shadow? Pizza included!"
She almost laughed at the pun. The Department never made jokes - humor wasn't part of their approved communication guidelines. This was probably spam, or maybe another cruel prank from classmates who thought darkness quirks belonged in villain origin stories.
The flyer that loaded should have triggered every warning signal she had. "League of Villains Kick-Off Meeting - Tomorrow Night!" Cartoon pizza slices bounced around text that could get her automatically detained if the wrong person saw it. "For those society decided were too dark. For those ready to step out of their shadow."
Her darkness curled tighter around her shoulders - an anxious tell she'd never quite managed to suppress. Unauthorized gatherings were explicitly forbidden for people with her quirk classification. She had the regulations memorized, had to recite them at every evaluation: "Quirks with villainous presentation require enhanced social monitoring..."
She should report this. That's what good citizens did. What people with "concerning" quirks did to prove they weren't threats. The Department's Anonymous Reporting Hotline was even on her speed dial - right after her mandatory quirk counselor and the crisis intervention team they'd assigned "just in case."
But...
Her cursor hovered over the screen as wisps of darkness danced between her fingers. How many years of being the scary kid? Of teachers flinching when her quirk acted up? Of classmates whispering "villain quirk" when they thought she couldn't hear? Of trying to prove darkness didn't automatically mean evil?
If it was a trap, well... she was already on every watch list the Department had. If it was a joke... she was used to being the punchline.
The RSVP button pulsed gently, and she swore the cartoon pizza slices winked at her. Someone had even added little shadow effects to the text - either they had a fantastic sense of irony, or they really knew their target audience.
Her darkness reached out before she could stop it, clicking the button with a tendril of shadow. The confirmation screen sparkled with tiny star effects that seemed to pierce the gloom around her.
She closed the browser, cleared her history (using private browsing was a violation of her quirk monitoring agreement), then went back to her game. Her character respawned in a pool of light, ready to face the digital darkness again.
Tomorrow would either be a new beginning or another entry in her Department file.
Hopefully there will at least be pizza.
Yumi stared at her phone's blank screen, darkness coiling anxiously around her fingers. No follow-up message. No meeting location. No nothing. Just that initial flyer with its dancing pizza slices and dangerous promises.
"Of course it was a joke," she muttered, watching her shadows twist into shapes that matched her mood. "Or a trap. Or-"
Purple-black mist erupted around her, swallowing her whole before she could even scream. For one terrifying moment, she was everywhere and nowhere at once. Then reality reasserted itself with all the grace of a slap to the face.
She stumbled, the world spinning as her inner ear tried to make sense of being everywhere and nowhere at once. Her darkness lashed out instinctively, trying to find purchase in a reality that had momentarily ceased to exist. For several heartbeats, she couldn't tell up from down, her body convinced it was simultaneously falling and floating and maybe being turned inside out.
When her vision finally stopped swimming, when her stomach decided to return to its proper anatomical position, she found herself in a warehouse space, but... different. Warm lighting that hurt her eyes, actual pizza boxes stacked on folding tables. And girls - dozens of them, each carrying quirks that would have sent the Department into conniptions.
A girl with crystalline horns that caught the light like obsidian was chatting with another whose skin rippled with toxic-warning patterns. Near the pizza, someone with shadow-powers not unlike her own was demonstrating something to an audience of girls with various predatory features - fangs, claws, eyes that glowed like warning signs.
"First time being warped?"
Shihai spun to find a girl with scaled skin offering her a slice of pizza. The scales shifted colors like oil on water, beautiful in a way the Department would definitely classify as "concerning."
"I... what?" Shihai managed, her darkness curling protectively around her shoulders.
"Kurogiri's warping takes some getting used to," Scales explained, gesturing at the lingering purple mist. "I threw up my first time. Though that might've been the nerves. Hard to tell when you're technically committing enough crimes to fill a Department file just by showing up."
A laugh rippled through the nearby girls - not cruel, like Shihai was used to, but understanding. Like they'd all had the same thought.
"Is this..." Shihai hesitated, years of Department conditioning warring with desperate curiosity. "Is this real?"
"The meeting? Yeah." Scales grinned, revealing teeth that would have sent her kindergarten teacher running for the quirk counselor. "The pizza? Definitely. That's from my family's place - they think I'm at a Department-approved study group."
More girls materialized through the purple mist - some landing with practiced poise, others catching themselves against walls and tables. Each bore the marks of quirks that made teachers nervous and counselors write lengthy reports. Shihai saw her own reflection in their eyes - that familiar dance between terror and possibility, between what society feared they'd become and what they might choose to be.
A girl with moth-like features that would have been beautiful if they weren't colored in warning patterns that screamed "predator" landed next to them. Her wings trembled slightly as she looked around, antennae twitching.
"Here." Scales offered her a slice too. "Pizza helps with the warp-sickness. I'm Shuichi, by the way. That's my actual name, not some villain thing. Though I guess we'll get to that part later."
"Shihai," she found herself saying, her darkness finally relaxing enough to accept the offered food. "I thought... I mean, when no one sent the location..."
"Can't exactly post 'illegal villain meeting' addresses online," Shuichi laughed. "Kurogiri handles transport. Safer that way. Less chance of the Department tracking anyone."
The moth girl - who introduced herself as Rin - was already looking less shaky. "I almost didn't RSVP," she admitted, her warning-colored wings finally settling. "Thought it was another cruel joke. People love pranking the scary bug girl."
"Society already decided we're villains," Shuichi shrugged, his scales rippling with the motion. "Might as well see what the other side is offering, right?"
Yumi watched her darkness dance with the shadows cast by Rin's wings, creating patterns that would have sent her quirk counselor into fits. Around them, more girls were arriving - each carrying quirks that the Department had labeled as threats, each looking around with that same mix of fear and desperate hope.
"Besides," Shuichi added, grabbing another slice, "my pizza really is that good."
She wasn't wrong about that, at least.
The lights dimmed. A figure materialized on the makeshift stage - hands first, pale fingers emerging from a black hoodie that probably cost more than Yumi's entire wardrobe. The hood was pulled low, but not low enough to hide the cracked lips pulled into what might have been a smile.
She was a hauntingly ethereal woman with skin like porcelain, so pale it seemed almost translucent under harsh lights. Her face carried an otherworldly beauty - the kind that belonged in gothic paintings rather than fashion magazines. Delicate stress lines traced patterns around her eyes, remnants of years spent scratching at persistent allergies, creating an intricate web that somehow enhanced rather than marred her features. Her lips, perpetually chapped and slightly uneven, held a certain cruel elegance, with a small beauty mark dotting the right corner like a deliberate accent to her unsettling smile.
Her hair fell in waves of grayish-blue, the strands varying in length with the longest reaching her shoulders, creating an untamed cascade that seemed to move with a life of its own. She wore it loose and wild, letting it veil portions of her face like living shadows. When visible through those ashen strands, her eyes burned a brilliant crimson - too bright, too intense, set in deep hollows that made them appear to glow from within. Those eyes rarely blinked, giving her gaze an unnerving fixation that made most people look away first.
A thin scar traced its way across her right eye, while another marked the skin beneath her lower lip - not the clean lines of a blade, but something more jagged, more personal. These marks, rather than diminishing her appearance, seemed to emphasize the dangerous allure she carried - like cracks in a precious porcelain doll that revealed something darker beneath.
Her beauty was the kind that made people uncomfortable - too sharp, too intense, hovering in that uncanny space between attractive and unsettling. The Department of Feminine Presentation would have had no idea how to classify her, which was exactly how she preferred it.
"Welcome to the tutorial, noobs."
Shihai felt Shuichi stiffen beside her. Near the pizza table, a girl with bone spikes protruding from her shoulders took an instinctive step back. But the moth girl, Rin, leaned forward slightly, her antennae twitching with interest.
"First time players, huh?" The figure's cracked lips twisted into something between a smile and a smirk. "Let me guess - spent your whole life being told your build type was wrong? That your character model was too scary for the starter zones?"
A nervous laugh rippled through the crowd. A girl with glowing red eyes whispered something to her friend, who nodded eagerly. Others shifted uncomfortably, years of Department conditioning warring with Shigaraki's words.
"Bet they gave you all the same tutorial. 'Try to look less threatening.' 'Consider a more appropriate quirk expression.' 'Have you thought about adding some sparkles?'" Her voice dripped with mockery that felt more like understanding than cruelty.
More movement in the crowd now. The girl with crystalline horns had stopped pretending to look uninterested. Even some of the more nervous attendees were starting to relax, drawn in by her peculiar charisma.
"Society took one look at your quirks and decided you were the bad guys. Didn't even let you pick your own class. Just stamped 'villain' on your character sheet and called it a day."
"And you know what? Maybe they're right." Her cracked lips curved into something sharper. "Maybe we are the bad guys. But they never asked themselves why that might not be such a bad thing."
The warehouse grew quieter, dozens of girls who'd spent their lives being told to take up less space, to look less threatening, to be less themselves, hanging on every word.
"See, they're so busy trying to make you fit their game that they missed something important." She scratched idly at her neck. "Being the villain? That just means you're playing by different rules. Better rules."
"But here's the thing about being the bad guy - you get all the best perks. While they've got you grinding boring side quests, filling out forms, proving you're not a threat... we're actually playing the game."
More movement in the crowd now - even some of the more nervous attendees were starting to relax, drawn in by Shigaraki's peculiar charisma.
"Starting benefits? No more appearance guidelines. No more quirk restrictions. No more monthly check-ins with NPCs who think having fangs makes you evil. Plus dental that actually covers mutations."
That got a real laugh - especially from a group near the back with various predatory features. Yumi watched her own darkness reach out unconsciously, drawn to the shadows under Shigaraki's hood.
"Level up with us, you get custom gear. Special missions. Places where your quirk isn't 'concerning' - it's just another build type. And unlike their pay-to-win hero system, we're running on pure player skill."
"Is she... always like this?" Shihai whispered to Shuichi, whose scales were rippling with barely contained excitement.
"Wait for it," Shuichi grinned. "She gets better."
"Weekly events, special quests, actual progression. No more being stuck in tutorial mode because someone decided your character model was too scary. Time to join a better server."
The bone-spike girl was nodding now. The one with toxic-warning patterns had stopped trying to hide them. Even Rin's wings had spread slightly, their warning colors seeming more beautiful than threatening in the warehouse's warm light.
"First quest? Those Department files they keep on you? The ones marking you as villains-in-waiting? Let's get ourselves a copy. See what they really think of us."
A collective intake of breath. Some girls looked terrified at the suggestion. Others... others looked like they'd been waiting their whole lives for someone to offer them this chance.
"Oh, and yes - pizza is a weekly drop. We're villains, not barbarians."
Her laugh was strange, glitchy almost, but it carried a warmth that made several girls smile despite themselves. Yumi felt her darkness uncurl slightly, reaching toward that sound like a plant seeking light.
"Time to decide if you want to keep playing their rigged game, or join a guild where your quirk actually matters. No pressure though - this isn't some forced tutorial. You can log out whenever you want."
She scratched her neck - a gesture that should have been unsettling but somehow just made her seem more real. More like them.
"So what'll it be, players? Ready to start a new game?"
The warehouse hummed with possibility. Shihai looked around - saw the same mix of fear and hope and desperate wanting reflected on dozens of faces. Girls society had decided were villains before they could choose to be anything else, now being offered a different path.
"Now, about advancement," Shigaraki continued, scratching at her neck. "Everyone starts at noob rank - no exceptions. Even me, back when I first logged in."
She gestured lazily at the hologram behind her. "Tier one gets you basic access. Training facilities, safe zones, weekly meetings with actual pizza - not that cardboard the Department calls food at their mandatory counseling sessions."
A few knowing laughs. Everyone had suffered through those stale Department-approved snacks.
"Hit intermediate, you get better perks. Custom gear. Specialized training. Places where your quirk isn't a 'concerning behavior pattern requiring enhanced monitoring.'" Her cracked lips twisted in a smirk. "Their words, not mine. Pretty sure they copy-paste those evaluations."
Shihai felt her darkness respond, remembering all those identical reports.
"Advanced tier? That's where things get interesting. Real missions. Actual impact. The kind of opportunities they'd never let you have because your quirk looks too 'villainous' on their assessment forms."
The warehouse hummed with possibility. Even the most hesitant girls were leaning forward now.
"Elite rank... well, let's just say it makes all those years of being labeled 'dangerous' worth it." Her red eyes scanned the crowd. "But you've got to earn each level. No pay-to-win mechanics here."
Then her voice shifted slightly, casual in a way that made Shihai's shadows curl tighter. "Of course, membership does come with certain... privacy settings. Can't have players leaking guild secrets to the admins, you know?"
The room temperature seemed to drop a degree.
"Kurogiri's very good at her job. Very good at finding people. Anywhere, anytime." Her smile never wavered. "Just something to keep in mind while you're considering your login options."
Then, like someone had switched channels, her voice brightened. "But that's enough tutorial text! Pizza's getting cold, and I've got a raid to prepare for. Kurogiri will port you home whenever you're ready to log out."
She turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and yes - the pineapple pizza is technically a war crime. But we're villains, so..." She shrugged. "Enjoy the snacks, noobs. Welcome to B.E.T.A, the better server."
With that, she dissolved into shadow, leaving behind a room full of girls who'd come looking for pizza and found something else entirely - a chance to rewrite their own stories.
Even if that chance came with some very specific terms of service.