Author's Note: To clear things up, I'm not just deleting anything that has anything negative to say about my story. I delete reviews that purely exist to be hateful toward me and people like me. Throwing slurs isn't criticism, it's hate speech. I'm well aware that the inclusion in my story likely costs me readers and reviews, but it's honestly not what I'm aiming for. I don't care if it costs me readers, because if that's what turns them away, I'm not sure that I want them.
Tomura awoke on the day he was supposed to present his findings to Master. It had been two days since the Sports Festival, and he'd asked Tomura to take some time after taking his notes to compile only what was the most important information about the Quirks that he'd taken an interest in. He had, of course, lazer focused on Izuku Midoriya, Hitoshi Shinso and Katsuki Bakugo, the ones who'd fucked him over during his attack on UA, with a secondary interest in Shoto Todoroki, the one who seemed to have two Quirks and was possibly Master's plant in UA. Tomura didn't recognize the name, but he knew that Master did have a sleeper agent, so it was possible that this kid was the one.
He got out of bed and showered, dully cleaning himself before emerging into the bar. Tomura stepped out into the well lit area, wincing at the lights that blinded him briefly. He wasn't ready for this so early in the morning. Tomura looked around, seeing that the screen for his call with Master was already set up. They wouldn't be speaking with each other for a while, so Tomura walked over and sat at the bar, where Kurogiri was standing and polishing a glass.
"Good morning, Tomura Shigaraki. How did you sleep?" Kurogiri asked in the same calm, serene tone that made Tomura want to vomit.
"Shut up. Why are you cleaning? Was someone here?" Tomura asked.
Kurogiri's misty body flickered in a way that told Tomura all he needed to know. The bartender sighed, and placed the glass he'd been cleaning upside down on the bar between them. He closed his eyes for a moment, the yellow glow that pierced through the mist around his head blinking out momentarily. Kurogiri looked back at Tomura with what could only be described as reluctant hope.
"Giran stopped by this morning to talk about recruitment. After all, we are going to need soldiers if we wish to go to war with Hero society," Kurogiri said.
Tomura clenched his fists as hard as he could. He fucking hated Giran. The guy just gave off a vibe that Tomura didn't like. Kurogiri had explained to Tomura that the Villain known as Giran was what was called an information broker. He was an intermediary between Villains, and oftentime groups of Villains who wanted to do business or combine forces for whatever reason. He had connections in the underground, and had ways to contact pretty much anyone that considered themselves bad enough to get in one of his circles. He also had a foot in the door at some of the companies that manufactured those ridiculous costumes that Heroes wore, so he could get equipment to help with a Villain's Quirk if they paid enough. Tomura didn't get why they needed him, though. They could do what he did, right? How hard was it to get some stupid NPCs to join their party and fight for them? Tomura bet he could do it. Giran's job couldn't be that special that only he could do it.
"I keep telling you, Kurogiri, we don't need that prick. All I need is a little more time, and I'll take to the streets myself," Tomura said, taking the glass off the bar and holding it in his hand. "Then, we'll have all the soldiers we need," he continued, gesturing to the glass as if it was one of the soldiers he was speaking of.
"I … understand that. You will be a fine speaker for our cause, but your injuries have only just completely healed. You need time, Tomura Shigaraki, as well as …" Kurogiri trailed off, his mist flickered once again.
Tomura narrowed his eyes at Kurogiri. He'd stopped himself from saying what he wanted to. A smile crept onto Tomura's face as he laid all but one of his fingers upon the glass he'd snatched from between them. He glared at Kurogiri, knowing that he cared for the bar beyond using it as a front for their operations; that included keeping everything nice and intact.
"As well as what , Kurogiri?" Tomura asked.
"You will make a great leader, Tomura Shigaraki. I simply believe that in order to become that leader, you must grow first. You are young, and have only just taken your first steps into the light of Hero society. What would happen if people were to reject your message? Some Villains enjoy the current order, profit off of it, even. What would happen if they were to oppose you?" Kurogiri asked back.
Tomura said nothing, simply pressing his fifth finger on the glass and shattering it instantly, watching as the cracks spread around it in the blink of an eye and fell onto the bar. Tomura shifted his gaze back to Kurogiri, whose eyes were widened in what looked to be shock at the display. Shaking the remaining shards of glass out of his hand, Tomura turned away, knowing that Kurogiri didn't want to be seen so desperately cleaning up the bar he cherished so much. Tomura looked over to the screen, waiting for the red light at the top to blink on. He wondered if Master would allow a video call, instead of the voice calls they often had with one another for these types of things. Tomura hoped for the best.
While he sat, waiting for Master to begin the call, he thought back to a strange dream he'd had the night before. He'd been in an odd kind of space that looked strangely like Kurogiri's mist. It was all black, and he couldn't see anything. Tomura had felt this searing pain coming from his head and his heart, and hadn't been able to escape it. It had felt so real, so vivid that he'd still felt that pain when he'd woken up in the middle of the night, sweating and screaming with one of his hands on his head. Tomura had no idea what it could've been, but he went back to sleep as the pain faded.
He had loads of weird, realistic dreams, like the one where he relived his first day with Master after he found Tomura. That was always one of the more tame ones, though. There were much scarier and extreme dreams that surfaced from time to time. Tomura could never seem to remember them, though, which was odd, since he remembered everything else almost perfectly. He never really questioned it.
After a few more minutes, the screen in front of Tomura flickered to life. The system they used was an invention of Master's, so nobody could trace the signal. The screen showed text saying 'No Video — Sound Only', which meant that Tomura was in for a voice call. That was fine. It was great! Voice calls often went longer than video calls, for some reason, so it meant that he likely had more time with Master than he would have the other way. This was only a positive for Tomura.
"Tomura. Are you there?" Master's voice called out from the speakers.
"Yes, Master. I'm here and ready to present the results of the task you set me," Tomura said, standing and moving over to where the camera attached to the screen could see him.
"Good. Sit and tell me what you've found," Master said.
Tomura smiled and pulled up the stool he'd used at the bar across the floor to where the camera could still see him if he sat on it. Kurogiri was silent, as he usually was unless he was called upon to speak by Master or Tomura himself. He just stood behind the bar and let things play out. Tomura sat quickly and pulled his notebook out. He flipped to the information he'd gotten about Izuku Midoriya and began to explain.
"The multi-Quirked brat I told you about — his name is Izuku Midoriya. He's scrawny and short, but he hides power underneath that smile. He has three Quirks that I could see. The first is some kind of strength enhancer, like the Nomu's. This one seems to be adjustable, though, because he almost killed me in a single punch when we fought, but he could barely leap across platforms from what I saw at the Festival. Maybe those big punches are like super moves that he can't really do a lot, and the smaller power he uses more often is his real strength. I don't know a lot about this, since he didn't use it a lot in the Festival, which is kinda bullshit if you ask me," Tomura rambled.
"Interesting. Strength enhancement that he can't use at full power. What a notion," Master said, a kind of humor in his voice.
"Right? It's like it's not even his Quirk! Anyway, his second Quirk looks like he can make these shadowy tendrils that can grab stuff. They also look like they're alive, because they defended the kid when he was … preoccupied during his fight with one of the other bastards. It seems like he has way more control over this Quirk, because he can shape these shadows into objects like barriers. It's fucked up how he just stopped using it in the second round, though. He could've gotten that headband back easily if he just reached out with his shadows. What an idiot," Tomura continued.
"Oh, that sounds like a lot of fun to play with. Dark tendrils with a wide variety of uses. Kind of like black whips, no?" Master asked.
"What do you mean?" Tomura asked, not really seeing the connection.
Master chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made Tomura's bones hurt. He looked over at Kurogiri and saw that the misty man was going about his business at the bar, dumping the shards of the glass Tomura had shattered into the trash. Tomura focused back on the screen in time to hear Master speak again.
"Well, a whip can be used to attack. But, it can also be used to restrain. It can also be used as a kind of transportation tool. These shadow manifestations sound a lot like shadowy black whips to me," Master elaborated, using that same phrase again.
Black whips . Why did that name stick out to Tomura? It sounded so distinctly different that he could take his mind off of it. Black whips? Black … whips. Blackwhip . It sounded like a good name for this Quirk of the brat's, so Tomura noted it down with a thick underline in his notes. Tomura chuckled to himself, and continued his explanation.
"I think the power the little prick uses the most is just straight up flight. He can like, hover in the air and shit. It pisses me off. He used it to avoid my Quirk when we fought, as well as set me up to get blasted by that blond asshole's Quirk. It's bullshit. If he's gonna cheat, he should at least try to download some lowkey ones. That Todoroki kid's got the right idea. At least he's sticking to a theme," Tomura ranted.
"Oh? Who is this 'Todoroki'?" Master asked.
"Oh, he's another multi-Quirked asshole. Two of them are in the same class . Can you believe that shit?" Tomura asked, gesturing wildly.
"Hardly," Master drawled.
"This kid can create ice, which it looks like he's better at, but he also makes fire! His hair's also weird, white and red split down the middle. I think that the white side makes ice, and the red side makes fire. Master, I wanted to ask if he's the agent you've planted in UA. He checks all the boxes," Tomura said.
Master laughed again, sending an unnerving shock through Tomura's system. It paid to have the King of the Underworld, the Symbol of Evil, in your corner, but it also cost Tomura sometimes. That cost was usually the nails-on-a-chalkboard laughter of the Demon Lord, but that was an easy enough thing to get past. Only nobodies, NPCs, were frightened of the gods above them. True heirs to the throne, like Tomura — they were the ones who faced those gods and took the power they possessed into their own hands and dared to challenge the ways in which the world worked.
"Ah, Tomura. Telling you would spoil the fun, no? Besides, we don't know who's watching or listening. It's best that I keep that close to my chest for now," Master said.
Tomura frowned, letting his shoulders drop slightly. Master seemed to notice this, and sighed.
"You will know when you are ready. You will know it all when that time comes. For now, though, you are in need of growth and maturity to truly claim that position. I am in need of elaboration, so please continue your presentation," Master reassured Tomura, who launched right back into his explanation.
"I didn't get much on the Todoroki kid, but he doesn't seem to be immune to the effects of his own fire and ice, let alone anyone else's. For such a powerhouse, it seems like he can't really take any real damage before he starts to slow down. What a waste of two good Quirks," Tomura said.
"Are you certain that there are two Quirks at play, Tomura?" Master asked abruptly.
"What else could it be?" Tomura asked.
"Think, boy. You said before that his hair is split down the middle, similar to his powers. If this young man's body is fashioned in such a way that it reflects the two powers …" Master prompted.
" … then they must be natural. That kind of thing has to be super rare! Maybe he's not your plant, but he could still be a very interesting player on the board. Shoto Todoroki, who are you?" Tomura mumbled, staring at the boy's photo that he'd printed off to stick in his notes about him. He'd done it for everyone he'd studied, but Tomura had taken special care of the pictures he'd used for the kids who'd slighted him at the USJ.
"Hmm, and interest Quirk indeed. No doubt the spawn of two incredible power sets. What else have you learned?" Master asked.
"Oh! The dick who controlled me at the USJ is Hitoshi Shinso. He's a jackass with a Brainwashing Quirk. Ha! The goons said my power's good for a Villain. Get a load of this guy; if you respond to a question he asks you, he can totally control your body. It's like he pushes you out of the driver's seat and you're forced to watch as he steers you around," Tomura explained.
"Oh? How did you learn of his power so intimately?" Master asked, interest creeping into his tone.
"He got me with it when we fought. I only got controlled after he fucked with me and got me to talk back to him," Tomura admitted.
"Hmm. Perhaps that is something you must work on, then," Master suggested.
Tomura's eyes widened at the realization. Master was right, he did need to work on that. Tomura had always gotten the last word in. Always. With this kid, though, that was going to get him beaten. It had gotten him beaten. It had allowed the Hero brats to stall enough that All Might had arrived and blasted his Nomu out of range for Tomura's commands. Tomura was slowly able to put it together that … he'd only failed because of himself . How? Tomura was ready for that mission, wasn't he? Maybe not, since he'd lost, but he'd done everything right. Hadn't he? Hadn't Tomura been everything that was needed? Hadn't he been the kind of man that Master wanted him to become? The thought that he'd hadn't even been a little bit successful hit Tomura like a truck, and it made him drop his notebook on the floor and cover his scarred face with his hands as he breathed heavily.
"Tomura, are you still there?" Master asked, a more stern tone to his deep voice.
"Yes," Tomura stuttered through the word. "I'm … here," he said, and Master sighed.
"It hurts to know that you've failed so spectacularly, and all because of your own faults. Good. You deserve that pain, that hurting inside. It was your fault, and there's nothing you can do to fix that. Tomura, tell me — how did Izuku Midoriya and Hitoshi Shinso beat you?" Master said, his voice grounding Tomura and allowing him to think clearly.
"Hitoshi Shinso provoked me with petty insults and jokes. He got me to talk back to him. Izuku Midoriya, the bastard , took advantage of my … my focus on All Might. I was so dead set on seeing the Symbol of Peace fall that he attacked me from the skies. I wasn't aware enough. I … let myself get beaten by them," Tomura realized, his voice faint.
"Precisely. They didn't beat you because they were powerful. Know this, Tomura Shigaraki, my apprentice and heir to my throne; they beat you because you're weak ," Master said, raising his voice just slightly.
Tomura felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. This couldn't be happening. Tomura couldn't be the weak one. He had to be strong, for Master's sake. Tomura was destined to be his heir, and so he needed to be strong when Master couldn't. He just … couldn't be the weak one anymore. He'd been far too weak when Master had found him, needing to be rescued off the street. Tomura needed to be strong, now. So why wasn't he? How did it make any kind of sense that he'd be beaten by a bunch of brats just out of middle school? Tomura tried to reject the notion that it was him, and that he needed to be better, but he just couldn't. Master had said it himself. It had to be true, then.
Tomura was weak, and he always had been, because of his own false confidence and attitude.
"You are weak," Master continued. "This does not mean that you can not be strong, however. Everyone was weak at some stage. Even All Might was once weak."
"Obviously," Tomura muttered.
"Even me ," Master said, which got Tomura to look up at the screen with wide eyed shock. "It may be surprising to hear, but I was once a powerless child at the Dawn of Quirks. I wasn't born all powerful, Tomura. I carved that path myself with the Quirks of enemies too weak to face me; but they were not weak in body. No, they were weak in mind . When our current society speaks of power, they speak of Quirks. They've become synonymous, and that just isn't right. Power is conviction, and conviction is everything. Not a single person without conviction has ever changed anything. I was able to hone my mind and place my energy and willpower where I could in order to make my own future. All Might and his mindless worshippers may be idiotic spanners in our works, but that's his conviction shining through, permeating the very world we live in. That's the kind of conviction that changes worlds and teaches everyone your name. Do you understand, Tomura?" Master said.
Tomura hung on every word. He laughed, a scratchy sound coming out of his throat. It felt strange, but he didn't feel the need to scratch. Tomura had been devastated before, but he still hadn't felt that need. It was as if everything was crystal clear, now. Before, when he'd need to scratch himself, everything would slowly fall away until all Tomura could feel was the burning sensation screaming to be soothed just under his skin. Now, it was as if that euphoric clarity had come without needing that trigger, and it was filling every corner of his mind, allowing him to come to the conclusion he'd been searching for.
If he wanted to kill All Might and burn the current order to the ground, Tomura would need friends. He'd need people who understood what it was like to be burned by the system, who knew what it meant to be rejected by the Heroes who were meant to save them. Tomura needed people who had the conviction he currently lacked, and he'd need those strong-willed people to join his cause and fight for him, inspiring fear and loyalty at the mention of Tomura Shigaraki's name. He couldn't continue like he had been; Tomura had to evolve. He had to become more than he currently was and truly build something, before tearing everything down.
"I understand, Master. I finally do. I need to speak with Giran," Tomura said, leaping to his feet.
"Perfect. If you manage to impress me with this newest scheme of yours, I may have a gift for you. Good luck, Tomura. I can't wait to see how you grow," Master said, before signing off.
A gift? Tomura heard the way Master had phrased that; he'd said it the same way he described Quirks. He knew Master was born and raised in an era where Quirks weren't the norm, and were heavily discriminated against in most places, but he'd never once called any Quirk he'd seen evil or bad , just more or less useful to him. Master was kind like that, always phrasing things in such a way that made everything feel like it had a unique value, even Tomura himself. Tomura felt like Master respected him, which he knew the Doctor didn't.
He was unsure about Kurogiri, as it felt more like an obligation for the mist man to care for Tomura, rather than a legitimate affection. Tomura had felt a true disconnect with Kurogiri as he'd grown older, but maybe that should have changed now that he was going to be more conscious of people .
"Kurogiri. Did Giran say anything about other clients he was seeing today?" Tomura asked, making his way over to the bar once more, his stool in his carefully positioned hands.
"No. He did not mention that he had other appointments that he must attend. Do you wish for me to call him here?" Kurogiri asked, a hopeful tone lacing his words.
"Yes. You said it before, we need soldiers. How about we playtest this particular feature of the game?" Tomura said, smiling at his caregiver.
"I am afraid that I do not understand your slang, Tomura Shigaraki," Kurogiri said.
"Ugh, seriously? Whatever. Before a game comes out, the publishers release a demo. It can be anywhere from ten minutes to the first few hours of gameplay, but it usually gives potential players an idea of what to expect from the game when it comes out in full. It's called a playtest," Tomura explained, setting his seat down and sitting on it as he spoke.
"So, you propose that we conduct our own playtest ? Dip our toes into the water, if you will?" Kurogiri asked.
"Exactly. Giran can help us find the perfect person to workshop our pitch with," Tomura said. He paused when he saw the uneasy fluttering of Kurogiri's mist form. Tomura had committed himself to this, so he reluctantly took a deep breath in and spoke. "What do you think?" he asked, the words coming out haltingly.
Kurogiri's yellow eyes widened considerably, the man looking more shocked than Tomura had ever seen. He stood stock still for a moment, seemingly looking at Tomura and trying to read whatever was going through his head. It was understandable, Tomura thought, that he'd be surprised. It wasn't normally like him to ask for anyone's opinions, but if he wanted to be a better leader, he needed to get feedback, and whether Tomura liked it or not, Kurogiri was the person he spent the most time with, his second in command, so his thoughts were going to matter in this journey.
"I think it is a wonderful idea. You are already growing, just as Master said. I am certain he will be proud of your progress when you next check in," Kurogiri said, warping a phone onto the bar and picking up the handset.
Tomura waited silently as Kurogiri dialed Giran's number into the phone. It was an old landline phone, which wasn't truly out of place in Master's possession. It was strange, however, when looked at in comparison with the kinds of phones Tomura saw when he was out and about in the city, or just outside the bar in general. Smartphones were in every hand, and some even had earpieces that functioned as phones, though those types were usually businessmen that Tomura rarely had the patience to examine close enough that he'd notice that kind of thing. All of the devices that Master had in his possession were old, old enough to be considered junk. It was a sacrifice they had to make in order to stay under the radar and out of sight from Heroes. If they were able to trace any purchases they made, all of them were fucked.
What had angered Tomura recently about this was that some little freak had decided to clean up the junkyard Tomura had gotten his gaming system, the PSPX from. He'd found the place on a walk one night and had found the system with a couple of games already with it just off the sidewalk, and had gone back there a couple of times since in order to see if any new systems or games had been left behind in good enough condition to be used. But, some weirdo he'd never gotten a good look at had decided to clean it all up. What a fucking loser. Tomura hadn't been able to go back since, but he always regretted not dusting that guy right then and there.
One of Kurogiri's portals opened up in the middle of the room, the man himself putting the handset down onto the base of the phone. The portal fluctuated for a few moments, the center a deep dark purple that seemed to dim the light in the room the longer it stayed open. Then, the tall, thin man that Tomura recognized as Giran stepped through, wafting smoke over at him. Tomura was about to tell him to put it out, but he wanted something from Giran, so he'd have to make do with it for now.
"Hey, Kurogiri. Good to see you again," Giran said, shooting a single finger gun at Kurogiri.
"Welcome back," Kurogiri said, nodding slightly to the supposed criminal mastermind.
Giran looked at Tomura, his smile dimming somewhat. Tomura stood and noted that he was just a bit taller than the man in front of him. He hadn't really ever stood face to face with Giran before, and Tomura smiled at learning this fact. He'd totally use it later. For now, though, Tomura reluctantly held his hand out for a handshake from Giran, who eyed him suspiciously.
"I know what your Quirk is, Bluey. I'm not shaking that hand 'till you put gloves on, boy," Giran said, his slow, grating voice making Tomura's carefully put-on neutrality crumble away like dust.
"Fine. Kurogiri," Tomura said, turning to find Kurogiri already holding out a single glove that covered his middle finger only. He slipped it on and once again held it out for Giran, who gladly took it in his own.
"Nice to finally have a proper meeting with you, Shigaraki. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Giran asked, taking a seat beside Tomura, who sat as well.
"We need your … help. We're looking to expand," Tomura said.
"Oh, I've heard all about that. What I want to know is why you've called me up here," Giran said, his sleazy smile only getting wider as he took a drag on his cigar.
Tomura took a moment to collect himself as he began to feel his whole body tense at Giran's coy attitude. He loved playing with people, and it pissed Tomura off when he did it to him. Tomura took a deep breath, feeling his limbs relax, and then looked Giran dead in the eyes between the fingers of Father.
"I need you to bring me the Hero Killer."