One.
Two.
Three.
Feet, unfeeling and numb pounding against the concrete. Leaves dance in flurries of twirls and dips, his only indication that wind still exists. Deep orange sunlight bounces along the cresting waves as his legs continue to trudge onward.
Four.
Five.
The city murmured around him, soft voices coming from beyond his caring perception. He felt slower now, the world rushing by as he flailed in water.
Six.
He counts, the numbers grounding him where nothing else will.
Seven.
He breathes, his mind imagining the chill that runs down his spine. What was once a novel way to see his new limits, a way to train for his dream was now just a habit. Like so many little things now.
Just a habit.
One.
So he counts, each step adding on and on a compulsion he wasn't aware he had. He wasn't sure, he wasn't sure if he knew the difference at this point. He found his memories were becoming muddled, blending together. He should feel heavy now he remembers; should feel hot and uncomfortable, sweat along his brow, his legs exhausted.
Two.
But he wasn't, try as he might there was nothing save the sensation of his existence.
Three.
Perhaps that was worse in a way, remembering how things were.
Four.
In rare moments when the fog lifted from his mind he could recall the faint memories of what he'd lost, how he'd get lost in excited murmurings at the sight of a new hero; of curling under the warm blanket on a cold night or the warmth of his favorite food. Glimpses of things he'd lost in exchange for power.
Five.
Pain.
Pleasure.
Hunger.
Passion.
All of it, he craved them; chasing them only for it to be replaced by the numbness time and time again.
Six.
He blinked as a metallic crashing rang out from the beach, his body stumbling to a stop as he took in his oddly familiar surroundings. "Takoba?" He mumbled out in idle curious surprise, it was a fleeting pause as his eyes took in the trash filled beach a small frown forming on his lips. He remembered when there was beauty here, a time when giggling children ran on warm sand as loving parents watched over them, a time when lovers would confirm their futures together.
Beautiful, serene even.
Now ancient rusted cars, the latest of last year's luxury appliances, and decaying unwanted filth merged together forming towering heaps of human refuge that dotted the landscape. Yet, for a moment as he looked over the area searching for the cause of the noise he couldn't help wondering if that in of itself was a statement, if that itself was not in a way art? An exhibition not confined to a gallery or museum, a monument to consumerism, to inevitability. To man's excess.
A fitting name.
He was pulled from his musings when another discordant metallic clang rang out, his head turning before landing on a crouched figure. Bright pink dreads stood out against her dark coveralls, her hands holding what appeared to be an old car radio which she twisted and turned as if inspecting for some deeper worth before placing it on a pile next to her. He watched in idle curiosity as she continued to dig at the tower tossing away small bits of trash utterly lost in her own mind, like a carrion worm picking at a long dead carcass.
He doesn't notice as his body trudges forward concrete giving way to soft warm sand, doesn't realize that he's now a fist full of feet away from her, her humming barely reaching him as he finally notices the grease stains on her arms and face. All moments before she disappeared diving headfirst into the mound, a metallic groan rang out as she dug at the heart of the heap and his body moved faster than he remembered it could and in what had to be an instant his arm plunged in after her fingers curling around her collar and yanked.
Whatever surprised screech she made was smothered by the unmistakable crash of gravity asserting itself, the hole she'd buried herself in filled instantly with sharpened metals and rot covered filth. She stared with wide yellow eyes at what would have been her grave. He remembered moments like this; the time the hero would reassure those in need. He'd gone over his own words religiously for the time he would do the same. A catchphrase? A witty one-liner? All of them went dead on his lips.
Her groaning scream told him it was unnecessary.
Oil slick gloves dug into her grime filled hair before gesturing towards the mound, her kneeled form trembling with barely restrained iration. "It was right there!" Her teeth clenched grinding as she groaned out before snapping her head to him, yellow targeting crosshairs bore into him as she pointed a protected gloved finger at him. "You!" She rose to her feet, her accusatory finger stabbing at him like a knife. "What's the big idea green!" His eyebrow rising in a momentary flicker of surprise at her outburst. "It took me all day! All day, to find the parts I needed for my babies and you just had to come in and ruin it!"
He blinked, brow furrowing as she let out an exacerbated growl, his throat shockingly dry as he found his voice. "I…I thought it would end badly if y-"
She turned fury in her yellow eyes as the crosshairs flickered. "Yea! Because now I gotta go through this thing all over again just to find what my babies need." Her hands made to strangle the air and shake before falling to her side as she turned away again focusing on the mound, then to a spot next to her. "At least my stuff is still where I left it." He wasn't sure if she intended for him to hear that, but with a huff she sat upon the sands once more and began to scavenge through the mound once again grumbling all the while.
An eternity passed in the span of heartbeats before he found his voice once more. "I'm sorry." Even if he didn't particularly feel it. There wasn't any emotion in his voice but she made up for it, her yellow eyes zooming out then in and back out as if needing a moment to calm down and regard him before letting a sigh escape her lips,
"Jeez green, no one ever tell ya it's rude to sneak up on people while they're creating?" She shakes her head, oil stained dreads bob in their messy ponytail, her full attention returning once more to the trash mound.
"Are you looking for something in particular?"
She shook her head. "Nah, just looking for anything that might be useful." A wide smile forms on her face as she turns to him in manic glee. "Hatsume Industries has to start somewhere, right?" She turns back again, her hands digging into the heap, his eyes landing on the pile next to her noticing recent cellphone models and even a speaker.
"Better than rusting."
"Exactly! See you get it, plus I got ten months for my entrance baby and I'm gonna make it perfect."
He blinked at that. "Entrance baby?"
"Uh yea, gotta have the best when applying to U.A!" Her hand clenched around an old can, targeting reticles aimed at him. "And once I go there it'll be straight to the top, Hatsume Industries! The best gear for the best heroes." Her hand raised as she said her tagline, scrolling as if imitating an ancient marquee. "Got a nice ring, don't it?"
He turns from her manic tooth lined grin, his eyes lazily trailing along the heap. "Good way to step into the industry I think."
"Exactly! See you get it."
He reached in, seeing a bright rainbow gag toy, his hand squishing it as its eyes popped out in what should've been a comical way. "Do you know what you'll make?"
She cackled as she returned to her scavenging. "Oh I got plenty of ideas for babies, I just need the parts to bring 'em to life."
He let out a hum, before he crouched down and began to search as well. "Maybe something for your eyes." He said tossing away an old box of cigarettes. "I'm guessing you can change how far your eyes can see, but you could always enhance it with tech or just give yourself new abilities like X-Ray or infrared." He shrugged tossing away some old dress shoes and continued. "Even if you don't use it, abilities like that would be vital for heroes."
"Huh." He turned and was greeted by her wide manic smile. "You know, I hadn't even thought about it like that." Her hand patted his back nearly sending him face first into the trash. "You'd make a great assistant! You figure out what baby a hero needs, then I bring it to life. Whatdya think?"
He paused for a moment at that, it'd been an off hand remark but wasn't that what his notebooks were? Offhand observations made by his hyper obsessive mind for a future that could never be, a passion he had completely forgotten about.
Why?
"I'll..think about it." He said a small smile tugging at his lips as she began to go over possible employee benefits and a spirited back and forth of baby ideas.
It was a few hours after the two began scavenging, that he finally made his way home, they'd managed to clear a small section of the beachfront together, Hatsume's manic flow of ideas leading to a large trove of reclaimed trash that she claimed to be useful while he dragged the rest away. A simple system that by the end of their time together ended with his muscles tingling slightly from the exertion from the makeshift strength training, and a promise to meet again the following day. His mother, anxious about his late return had bombarded him with hundreds of questions. Heto excused himself to the sanctuary of his own room, the wide smiling faces of countless heroes leaving him feeling hollow. His mind trailed on the events of the day and Hatsume's wild passion and creative zeal, had he been like that?
He remembered always scrawling in his notebooks, chasing after heroes and their grand fights, he could remember the hours spent researching all the practical applications for quirks of all stripes. Had he lost that passion? Or had his gift muted it like it had everything else?
He leaned back in his chair sighing as he ran a hand through grime covered green hair, before his hand dropped landing softly against the notebook cover. His eyes glanced down at the burnt ruined book and an odd tug urged him to open it. The water stained pages spread out streaks of ink left barely legible scratches along the ruined pages as smudged crudely drawn figures lept into view. He smiled softly, a reminder of better times he supposed, memories floating into focus as he ran his fingers along crisp edges.
He wasn't sure when he grabbed a pen, nor when he flipped towards a relatively undamaged page. Perhaps it was the last urges of a lingering habit, his pen gliding along the sheet as he began to fill out what information he had on Mei and her quirk. His mind, slowly coming into focus as thought solidified into words along the page, theoretical uses of her quirk mixed with possible strategies and limits until finally ending with a rough sketch of her. Pink dreads and yellow eyes took form until he leaned back and frowned.
It was all wrong.
He grabbed the notebook, bringing it closer as he inspected it, taking in every imperfection.
Her eyes, the markers were off and uneven.
So he began again.
He flipped to a relatively clean page and as if guided by an unseen muse glided his colored pencil against the sheet, in his mind he could picture her perfectly. The sun bouncing along the metal straps of her overalls, her grime and oil covered hands effortlessly taking apart her prizes for further inspection.
He could see the soft curves of her face, the sheer undeterred manic joy from creation that threatened to split her face in a tooth filled smile. The passion that radiated like a sun off of her. He saw it perfectly, yet when he looked down all he could see was a lifeless imperfect imitation. Each egregious mistake screamed at him, be it how her hair didn't sit properly when compared to reality, how her arms were disproportionate.
A flicker of frustration ignited as he tried again, her overalls lacking the distinct feeling of worn use that he'd associated with her. Eyes lifeless compared to the spark of passion she always had, her smile missing manic glee.
Wrong.
He tried again.
Hideous.
Again.
Imperfect.
Gentle scribbles became furious as his frustration rose, around him the crumpled rejected remains of all his attempts as a single minded focus took hold. His teeth clenched as his failures mounted, heart slowly pumping harder, his hand tugging at a green curl. Why wasn't it perfect?
The details always off.
Always wrong.
Imperfect.
The coloring pencil snaps in his hand finally snapping him out of his fixation, he lets out a frustrated hiss at the waste before staring at the abominable image. The light was wrong, the oil stains lacking the oily shine as the sun hit her face.
He ripped out the page, what he now knew was his final page. He blinked in surprise upon seeing the back cover, the notebook while damaged had been full so how? The crumpling of paper underneath his foot stole his attention and he looked down, finally seeing the full scope of his efforts, he swallowed at the waste.
He hadn't meant to do that.
Hadn't meant to get lost in the act of creation.
He flipped through the stripped book, his eyes lingering on his previous works, only to find more flaws, more imperfections. His old idols reduced to lifeless stills robbed of their glory.
Kamui Woods stood lifeless on the page, his acrobatic grace gone, death arm's stared out robbed of his superhuman might, Mt. Lady's playful beauty reduced to childish scrawls.
His head sank resting on his clawing hands as his frustration took hold, this couldn't stand not while he could change it.
It'd be perfect.
Hello everyone!
this was meant to release back before the holidays but family and vaction took priority, regardless i hope you all enjoyed your new year and celebrated however you wanted.
Chapter 4 is in the works, im hopeful that my new semester and work schedule will let me finish it in a timely manner. Once again thank you to my great beta reader Toastykit and to all of you for sticking by as i write this heretical little story, heres to 2025.