AN: credit for the song used during the opening sequence goes to 'Ticking Time Bomb' by McGwire. References are made to 'Hell Yeah' by Rev Theory and 'Rush' by The Score.
The night is young, the sun having only just set below the horizon. People are making their ways back home after long days of work and school. Businesses are starting to close their doors. And a young man is preparing himself to step out onto a stage.
He's only seventeen years old, with forest green hair that bounces around his shoulders in messy curls, bright emerald green eyes, and star patterned freckles on his cheeks. Currently he's wearing blue jeans with slight tears at the knees, a baggy black tee-shirt that has the word 'Disguise' written on it in white, bright red sneakers, and a matching red blazer.
There's a knock at his door followed by a man's voice.
"T-minus five. Hope you're all prepped, we've got a full house tonight."
The young man takes a deep breath. He stands up, grabbing an object that had been resting on the table in front of him and sliding it over his head. It's a porcelain mask designed to look like a black rabbit. Bright red lines cross over the eye holes, mimicking stereotypical depictions of a dead cartoon character. The mask only covers the top portion of his face, leaving his mouth exposed. Fake white hair attached to the top hides his green locks.
Tilting his head from one side to the other causes a loud crack sound as the bones within pop. He then grabs a glass full of an amber liquid. Swallowing it down in one quick gulp, he sets it back down with a loud clack.
"Alright. Let's blow this place sky high."
Now fully prepared, he exits the room into a dimly lit hallway. Muffled music reverberates in the air. As he walks down the hall the music grows louder. Soon it's also joined with cheering and screaming. Overhead the PA system comes to life with the same voice as earlier.
"You've all been waiting patiently for tonight's main performance. Well, have I got good news for you! No need to wait any longer! Coming to Mustafu live, I give you the one! The only! Black Hare!"
Stepping through a set of thick curtains, the young man finds himself on a stage. Dozens if not hundreds of people are crowded in front of the stage. When he steps up to the mic stand they go wild, screaming in excitement. He nods to someone off to the side of the stage and soon music begins to blast out of the massive speakers set into the stage.
It starts as a low hum deep enough to vibrate the wood under his feet for a few seconds before it's joined by a kick drum that sets a fast rhythm. Suddenly everything goes silent. But only for half a second. He grabs the mic just as the music kicks back in at a much higher volume.
"DON'T TAKE ME IN!"
The crowd goes wild as he starts to sing, his voice both smooth and full of emotion. Lights begin to flash above him. Lightning courses through his veins.
"I'm the one they hide from! I'm a ticking time bomb! Tick Tick Tick BOOM!"
As he sings he feels as though he was looking at himself from the outside. Just a passenger to something more powerful. More primal.
"DON'T TOUCH MY SKIN! I can feel your silence! Because you think my time's up! Tick Tick Tick BOOM!"
The music grows slightly softer, his voice dropping an octave. If the previous lines were a scream to be seen then this was him talking directly to the audience.
"Clip my wings and I just start crawling. Statues built to the gods I've fallen. Run away. Just run away."
Bodies blur together on the dance floor. Faces running with sweat and painted in every color imaginable. This was what he lived for. This was what kept him going when everything else in his life felt pointless.
"Drag my feet till my heels catch static. Slit my throat in a crime of passion. Run away. Just run away!"
The music starts to swell again, the crowd matching its energy with frantic movements. He lifts up the mic stand and swings it around, getting into the groove himself.
"High wire life, man my shit trapezing! Why is making my rules like treason?! Listen to the silence, louder than all the lies! And now you got the nerve, ask why I'm leaving?!"
He jumps. Sneaker clad feet slamming into the wood of the stage with a heavy noise. Fake white hair sways around his head like a halo.
"White hot rush pump through my body tonight! Would you stand on that code with your life on the line?! I'm not an omen, because I'm broken! I'm a shrine to the life you've stolen!"
As he finishes his line, the chorus starts up again. This time the entire crowd joins in with their own voices. If he didn't know any better he'd say that they were threatening to bring the roof down with all the energy in the air.
"DON'T TAKE ME IN! I'm the one they hide from! I'm a ticking time bomb! Tick Tick Tick BOOM! DON'T TOUCH MY SKIN! I can feel your silence! Because you think my time's up! Tick Tick Tick-"
Rather than let the chorus finish as it had before, he screams into the mic. Holding it close to his chest as he curls over it. Emotions raw and obvious.
"YOU FAKE! NEVER SUFFERED ALL I TAKE! THE TANGLED ROPES OF FAMILY FATE! I THOUGHT YOU WERE BY MY SIDE! WHY CAN'T YOU LOOK ME IN MY EYES?!"
He takes a deep breath as the music slows down again. The drum fades away. His heart pounds in his chest. When he continues to sing again his voice has softened again. Now sounding less infuriated and more resigned.
"Don't say sorry now. Leave no body count. My life's all in doubt. I can't feel you no more."
The kick drum returns and begins to pick up speed. His movements and the song both regaining their energy and then some. A hint of determination shines through the somberness of his last lines.
"Don't get sloppy now that you sought me out. You may knock me down, but it won't feel like before.
Turn you to a demonstration! Beauty in the devastation! Countdown to a detonation!
Sun arise, come alive, never miss a beat, just move in with a cold precision! New scars from an old decision! Scream only when no one listens! Get away, centigrade, turning up the heat, just burn!"
The chorus begins for the last time, repeating the more aggressive second version rather than the calmer first version. His voice blends with that of his audience. Drops of sweat fall off his face as he dances around the stage. His arms swing around in a wild rhythm that nearly looks like he's just flailing.
"WHY CAN'T YOU LOOK ME IN THE EYES?!"
As he sings that final line, he seems to return to himself somewhat. The haze of performing fading away slightly. Someone throws him a bottle. He snatches it out of the air flawlessly and drinks heavily from it. Whatever it is, it's definitely not water.
Within moments he's losing himself once more to the music as his next song starts up. Minutes turn into hours. It's as exhausting as it is exhilarating. But eventually all things must come to an end. When the sun begins to rise over the horizon, he steps out of the club's back entrance.
His blazer and 'disguise' shirt have been traded for a black leather jacket and a white shirt that says 'pants' in black letters. His jeans exchanged for a different pair without the tears in them. Without his mask he's no longer Black Hare.
Instead he's just Izuku Midoriya. A completely ordinary teenage boy. Granted, one that was running off eight hours of sleep over the last three days, had far more alcohol in his system than medically advisable, and was currently trying to light a cigarette with an uncooperative zippo.
"Here."
A feminine voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He finds a lit match in front of his face. Gratefully, he uses it to ignite the tip of his cigarette. Taking a long pull, he lets out a trail of smoke that rises up into the air as it slowly dissipates.
"Thanks."
Finally taking a glance at his companion, he finds himself looking at a girl roughly his age. She has dark purple hair and onyx black eyes. Her outfit is composed of an open red hoodie, a black tank top with the words 'suit and tie' on it in white, a black skirt that reaches her knees, fishnet stockings, and black combat boots.
What appear to be small aux cords dangle from her earlobes. At any other time he might have fallen into a spiral of thoughts wondering what they could do and how they work. As it is, he can barely manage the energy to note the fact they exist.
She blows a small cloud of smoke from her own cigarette. Izuku appreciates the moment of quiet. His head was currently pounding with a headache that he knew from experience was only going to get worse over the next few hours. The two of them remain in comfortable silence before she eventually speaks up.
"One hell of a show, huh?"
Izuku nods. It was certainly one of his most well received shows. Although it felt like that every time he went out, the crowds only got bigger and more energetic. Was this what it was like to be popular? Not that he'd ever be able to actually enjoy said popularity.
"Yeah. Black Hare really pulled out all the stops on this one. I was almost worried the roof was gonna fall down on us. Especially when he sang 'Hell Yeah'."
She chuckles, the sound surprisingly not grating on his aching ears. With a flick of her wrist she taps some of the ash off her cigarette before taking another drag.
"That one was good. My favorite was 'Rush'. It wasn't quite as heavy as the others, but it felt a bit more intense on an emotional level. Like it was all about pushing forward no matter what. You can really tell that it was written from the heart."
If it weren't for how tired he was, Izuku might have blushed at her words. He was always a little concerned that he was putting too much of himself into his songs. That nobody wanted to hear a stranger whine about their problems. Yet apparently people loved that sort of stuff.
Black Hare had debuted nearly two years ago, and had so far only seen his popularity rise. Part of it was the mystery of who was behind the mask. But people bought up his CD's like they were made of gold. You wouldn't see that level of enthusiasm if it was just idle curiosity driving them.
"Yeah, I get what you mean. It's like he's singing with his whole soul when he's up on stage. I kinda envy that."
Because at the end of the day, no matter how successful Black Hare was, Izuku would still be a nobody. Just another face in the crowd. A 'deku' in the words of his ex-best friend.
The girl stays quiet for another moment. Izuku finishes his cigarette, grinds it against a nearby wall to make sure it's out, and tosses it into the trash can that was sitting next to the door. He then speaks with an air of someone knowing they were walking to their execution.
"I should probably head out. Sun's gonna be up in a few hours."
"Me too. Shit, school's gonna suck today. More than usual at least."
They share a laugh at that. Apparently crappy school situations were universal. Though Izuku doubts that her troubles are quite the same as his. She stubs out her own cigarette and begins to walk away from the club.
"Stay safe Greeny. Maybe I'll see you around."
"You too, Purple."
And just like that, Izuku's on his own again. At least the walk home gives him some time to clear his head and lose the scent of freshly burnt tobacco. His mom was going to be upset that he was out so late, but it would be worse if he came back obviously half-drunk and smelling of smoke.
She knew about Black Hare. It would be impossible for her not to, considering the money he pulled in from his CD and merch sales. At least she was supportive.
Though that support tasted bittersweet. She wanted him to stick with the music as a career, as distasteful as she found the underground punk scene he'd slotted himself into. It was safer than following his real dreams. Not to mention more 'realistic'.
God did Izuku hate that word. Realistic.
As if anything about life could be easily divided into what was possible and what wasn't. As if people all around the world weren't constantly doing things that defied common sense.
But he can't stay mad at her. Not when he knows she's coming from a place of care and motherly worry. That just made his resentment towards her actions carry an undertone of guilt for the stress he was putting her through.
These thoughts weren't new to him. Nor did he suddenly have an epiphany of how to deal with them during his walk home. All he could do was push them to the back of his mind like usual and hope that he could keep holding himself together for a little bit longer.
Thankfully, it would seem that Inko had gone to bed before he got home. That meant that the lecture about staying out late would come tomorrow as opposed to right away. If nothing else it would give him time to handle the brunt of the hangover he knew was coming.
He's barely able to kick off his shoes and hang up his jacket before he finds himself falling into his bed. The moment his head touches the pillow he's out cold.
His dreams were usually chaotic and impossible to derive much meaning from. This was especially true after one of his shows. Apparently copious amounts of visual and auditory stimulation mixed with alcohol made you have really fucking odd dreams. Who knew?
The only coherent thing he can remember upon waking is the vivid image of a woman in purple robes standing under a sakura tree on a moonlit night.