Chapter 2: Canvassing II
"Mom," Izuku tugged at his mother's sleeve, pointing down an alleyway where a man lay on a piece of cardboard, surrounded by flies. "That guy looks hurt, shouldn't we help him?" His mother looked down at him, then at where he was pointing. When she saw the man, Izuku was shocked as she harshly pulled his arm down and marched away, her pace brisk.
"Mom!" He protested, wiggling under her grip. "Slow down, you're hurting me!" She stopped immediately, letting him go and kneeling down.
"I'm sorry, Izuku, but you can't just point at people like that!" She scolded him, massaging his arm gently. "What if that was a villain, or a criminal? You could've gotten hurt if he saw you!" Izuku nodded, not fully understanding but unwilling to get into a fight.
"But, shouldn't we help him?" He had to ask. His mother stood up and smiled down at him.
"Don't worry, I'm sure a Hero will help him eventually!"
Izuku peeked his head out from the corner, waiting for the restaurant worker to throw out the day's leftovers. He had been unlucky all week with his theft attempts, and he didn't have the time to plan out another scheme; he needed food now. The man came out with a stack of boxes, and from the way they were shuffling, Izuku knew there was food in them. He snuck out a little further, hoping to get a glimpse of where the man was going with them, but, before he knew it, the man was looking right back at him, a scowl sitting firmly on his face. He yelped quietly and ducked back into the alleyway, squirming behind the dumpster bin and holding his breath as the man's footsteps rushed towards him. The footsteps stopped once they reached the alley, but Izuku didn't dare show his face. His decision was proven correct when the man's voice let out an audible curse, his feet shuffling as he looked around for Izuku.
"Fuckin' bums!" The man spat, turning away. "The Heroes really gotta clean this area up, this many hobos is bad for business!"
The memories faded away, and the world around him was abruptly pitch black. There was nothing in sight around him except for a large, ornate mirror, bejewelled and polished. Instinctually, his mind reached for the familiar tide of panic, but it wouldn't come. Something was keeping him calm, like a lid over his heart. Instead, he walked over to the mirror and looked back at himself. He took in his reflection, the usual ratty hair that fell over his right eye, pale skin that stretched over his wiry frame. His eyes made their way down towards his legs, taking in his height. He'd always been tall for his age, another point to his mother's Quirk and the hormones that ran rampant in his body. He was skinnier than ever, but there was an undertone of hardness beneath the taut skin, a testament to the effort he'd put into living so far. He huffed out a laugh, not failing to see the irony in his work. A few months ago, he had been hunched over a toilet, trying not to kill himself, and now he was trying to live, fighting to live.
He backed away from the mirror, and he immediately noticed something was wrong. His reflection was almost…lagging behind his movements, like it was playing catch-up. He waved at the glass, and his reflection suddenly grinned and morphed slightly, its left eye bleeding black until it was the same shape and colour as his right. With a sharp intake of breath, he went to take a step back, but a wall appeared behind him, blocking off his escape. Left with no options, he looked back into the mirror, where his changed reflection was waiting.
"You did a great job back there, Izuku." It applauded him, a Cheshire grin wide across its face. "I especially loved the little bit of hesitation before you dropped the clay on him, he looked like he was gonna piss himself!" Izuku cocked his head to the side in confusion, unsure of what he was talking about. "You don't remember?" The creature simpered mockingly. "How about I give you a hint?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Izuku asked, exasperated. The thing held a palm out, clicking its tongue dissaprovingly.
"Not now! I'm trying to think." It hummed, stroking its chin. Izuku listened, albeit with reluctance, and just watched as his reflection acted without his consent, until, suddenly, it snapped its fingers.
"I know! I've got the perfect hint!" It clapped excitedly, jumping around like a rabbit. It turned to face him, a sinister grin that was at complete odds with its movements stretched across its face. "You killed Slugger!" Izuku recoiled.
"What?! What are you saying? I've never killed anyone!" He leaned back in aggressively, but the creature just smiled.
"Come on, think back! You don't remember him cornering you outside the bar? What about how badly it hurt when he slammed that baseball bat into your stomach?" It positioned its hands like they were holding a bat and swung, whistling before clicking its teeth hard. "He almost sent you for a home run!" Izuku's mouth opened to refute it, desperate to prove he wasn't a killer, but images were flooding his mind without a care. He dimly recalled screams, his own, followed by a different mans voice, begging for mercy before devolving into anger. He clutched his stomach as the memories came back, the image of Sluggers upper body exploding into a mist of blood and a shower of flesh.
"That's right, you got there eventually!" His reflection cooed, its grin somehow getting wider until it looked like his face was split in half. "I'm not exactly the biggest fan of yours, but man that was some beautiful work back there! That explosion?" It clapped. "Gorgeous!" Izuku had too many questions running through his head, but one fought its way to the front and through his clenched teeth.
"What are you?"
It froze in the middle of a clap, then it turned to him slowly, the grin on its face darker than before.
"Why, I'm you, of course!"
"No, you're not, I'm me." Izuku replied automatically. Whatever was keeping him from panicking was keeping him from delving too deep into his confusion, like it was pushing him away from confrontation.
"We're both you, idiot." The being's smile melted into a scowl. "We're just, different parts of you. Does that make sense?" Somehow, it almost did.
"What part am I?" The grin returned with a vengeance.
"You're what's left after I got locked up!" It declared, before banging on the mirror with a snarl. Izuku watched blankly as the glass cracked. "You locked me away because you couldn't handle me, Izuku, and now I'm back and stronger than ever!"
"Well, what part are you then?" He asked. His reflection looked almost taken aback by his lack of reaction, but quickly regained itself.
"I'm the anger, the hatred, the grief, etc., etc." It waved its hand nonchalantly in the air. "All of that good stuff, you know?" Izuku hummed.
"You're the voice that's been helping me steal."
"Ding ding ding!" He snapped his fingers into a gun, pointing it at him. "Looks like you've gotten smarter! So, got anything to say, before I get out of here and destroy you, that is!"
Izuku's mind travelled back to the past, to the life he'd lived and the pain he had experienced.
"Thank you, for holding onto those for me."
"What?" His reflection stepped away, confusion plain on his face, before it was washed away by anger. "Do you think a thank you erases what you did to me?! You think some lousy words are gonna keep me from tearing you apart?!" Izuku raised his eyebrows.
"I don't even remember what I did to you, and besides, it's not like I'm the one who stuffed you into a mirror." His reflection snarled.
"Yeah? Then why the fuck am I behind this glass while YOU get to live?!" It smashed its fist into the mirror, but the crack smoother over instantly.
"How the fuck would I know?!" He stepped to the mirror and, purely on instinct, slammed his fist into the mirror. His reflection flinched back, and they both watched as the glass recovered.
"What are you doing?!" His reflection called out in anger, but Izuku wasn't listening. He slammed his fist into the glass over and over, but there was no effect. "I asked you what you think you're doing!"
"Don't you want to live our life to the fullest?" Izuku panted out, hands on his knees as he gathered his breath. "You say that you haven't gotten to live, but neither have I! I can't even get angry at people anymore, do you know what that feels like!?" He stood up with a deep inhale and prepared to try again.
"Do you know what it's like to hear someone tell you to kill yourself and all you can feel is fear?!" Another punch. "All because, what, I have some mouths on my hands?!" Another one. "Daisuke can pull his eyes out of his sockets, but I'M the gross one?!" His knuckles were sore but he kept punching. "I don't want to live like that, not ever again!"
"What does that have to do with you breaking the barrier?!" His reflection growled, eyes flickering between the cracks his fist was creating.
"I have to live." The recovery was starting to lag behind his blows. "I have to live because our mother told me to, and I won't disobey her dying wish! I wasn't the one who locked you away, and God knows I hate them just as much as you do, but I'm not going to live with half of my feelings locked away just because the old US couldn't handle it!"
"You can't fool me! I-I can't get locked away again! I can finally poke my head out of this godforsaken prison, and you want me to just disappear now?! That's not going to happen, Izuku!" His reflection's face was angry, but it's voice was dripping with desperation. Izuku paused his fist before it could hit the mirror again and locked eyes with himself.
"I want to feel normal." The reflection balked, stammering out something in response but Izuku talked over him. "I want to live my life and not be tormented for something I couldn't control, not matter what the cost is! Isn't that what you've been saying this whole time? Is it really worth getting out if you can only be angry all the time?" His reflection hesitated, then drew back his own fist.
"I won't forgive you if you try to get rid of me again." He spoke, a shaky grin on his face. Izuku nodded, drawing back his fist and throwing it as his reflection did, the combined impact finally shattering the barrier between them. Glass shards danced through the air, glittering in the light, before slamming into his chest. Each shard was a memory, a burst of emotions that overwhelmed him instantly. Anger, pain, sadness, fear; all of them rose to a tumultuous peak in his heart. He stumbled back and fell, gripping his skull with both hands. The memories showed no remorse, each one a piece of trauma and suffering that he'd locked away and forgotten, pushed onto the half he had locked away.
"I don't need your help, Deku!"
A hand outstretched to his childhood friend as he lay in a shallow stream, a rebuked offer of help.
"That's so freaky!"
His classmates laughs echoing through his head as he held his palms out, fresh from his Quirk awakening.
"Your husband is currently being kept in our police station on charges of vigilantism. He will be released if it is determined that he acted in self-defence."
His mother's gasp of shock, the clatter of a bowl of cake batter falling and hitting the ground, and the crunch of dried clay.
"Izuku, stay in the closet and don't come out, no matter what you hear, alright?"
A watery smile followed by the click of a lock and the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, his mother's sobs and his father's shouts.
"I'm sorry, Izuku. Become an amazing artist, for both of us."
A police officer handing him the final words of his father, a crinkled piece of paper consisting of only two short lines.
"Izuku, put those things away!"
His mother's angry face covered in tears, her nails digging into his wrists as she glared down at his palms. There was a clay figure on the ground, smashed from the impact, but a man's smile was still clearly there, along with his herculean frame.
"Take a SwAn DiVe OfF tHe RoOf!"
"YoU'rE fUcKiNg PaThEtIc!"
"DEKU"
His brain was overloaded with pain and sadness, but it was all overshadowed by a wave of anger that washed over him like a tsunami. What had he done to make Bakugo react so angrily against him? What had his father done wrong to be arrested, to have his life ruined, by helping someone in need? Why had his father, his idol, his ideal, done that to his mother? Why had his parents killed themselves, why had they acted so selfishly and left him behind to rot in this broken world? Why did everyone hate his Quirk, why did they all hate him?! Why, why, why, whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy!
He clawed at his scalp, blood pouring down his face and dripping onto the floor in a cruel facsimile of tears. It was his fault, it had to have been his fault. No one could be that evil, no one could do that to someone who didn't deserve it, right? He must've done something, ANYTHING to have been treated like this! His palms opened and clay poured out, encasing his head in white until he couldn't see anymore. It was his fault, so it would be better if he just died, right? His right eye opened, but something stopped him before he could detonate it. He screamed, the sound muffled by clay and blood. Why couldn't he do it?! Why couldn't he kill himself?! If he couldn't kill himself, did that mean it wasn't his fault, that it was all some cruel trick, a joke played on the freak by everyone who'd doubted him, everyone who'd tormented him? What was going on?! Why was he so, so angry?!
Izuku clenched his teeth.
"I'll kill them, I swear I'll kill them!" He screamed, fingers tearing down his head and across the side of his face, tearing the clay away from his skull along with swathes of flesh and blood. The sight reminded him of what he'd done to Slugger, and a painful grin spread across his face.
"I'll turn them into art, just like I did to him! If they hate my art so much, I'll make them experience my art, FEEL my art!" Drool escaped the corner of his grinning lips and fell next to the blood on the ground. "That flash of light, the beautiful brevity, the instant where the blood and light mix together to become a brilliant blossom! That is art! They should be grateful to become art, to become so much more beautiful than they were in life!" Clay poured from his hands again, covering his torso in white.
"Because REAL art!" He lifted his bang away from his head and glared down at his body, his face aching from the unfamiliar expression. "Goes out with a BANG!"
With a flash of light
He exploded.
His eyes snapped open to a roof he didn't know, and to the smell and sound of something frying in a pan, but he didn't have the time to panic, his mind was going haywire. He groaned, clutching his head as years of repressed emotions and pain sank into his body, the memories running rampant through his head. The waves lasted for only a moment longer before they vanished, but it felt like hours to Izuku as a deep, stabbing pain throbbed through his skull. When the pain subsided, he stayed curled up in the fetal position, waiting for the next burst of pain to come in, only for a cold hand to fall onto his shoulder. He flinched back, sitting up quickly to find himself looking at a man made of mist, yellow eyes piercing through black and purple smoke that oozed from a metal collar, under which was a sharp suit and vest combo. The man, or at least, Izuku assumed he was a man, retracted his hand and stepped away before dropping into a western bow, his hand crossed over his chest and to the other shoulder.
"It's good to see you awake, young man." His voice was a deep baritone, low enough that a glass placed on the counter in front of him rattled and shook from the vibration. "I hope you had a good rest, we found you in quite the awful situation." Izuku noted with discomfort the subservience in the man's tone, like Izuku had saved him instead of the other way around, and scooched away further.
"Where am I, and who are you?" Izuku croaked out, his throat dry from his sleep. The mist, instead of answering him, turned around and handed him a glass of water. Izuku grabbed the glass, but he wouldn't drink, not until he knew what was going on.
"Master will be here soon, but until then, I'm afraid I can only inform you of my name, Kurogiri." He introduced himself with another bow, much to Izuku's chagrin. Turning his attention away from the cloudy man, he instead elected to take in the surroundings he found himself in. It was dim, to the point that his left eye struggled to notice any detail, and the air was thick with the scent of cleaning materials and bleach. He squinted, then gave up and opened his right eye, desparate to gain some sort of clue about where he was. Immediately, the world around him lit up as his eye acclimated to the darkness quickly, and he was able to see the shelves of bottles and the marble counter fitted with stools and glasses. Kurogiri was behind the counter, drying and washing glasses like he was some sort of maid, and there was another man in the corner of the room, slouched over a table and glaring over at him with genuine malice shining in his eyes. Izuku locked eyes with him, a strange anger taking control of his body, and sneered slightly.
"Kurogiri," He called out, keeping his eyes on the man in the corner. "Who's this guy in the corner, and why's he glaring at me like I ruined his life?" The sound of glass squeaking against a cloth stuttered and came to a stop, and the man, who's eyes were a sickeningly familiar red, rose slowly, yet gracefully, like a snake uncoiliing.
"That's of no concern to you, young man." Kurogiri's voice was still disgustingly polite, but there was a hard undertone now that wasn't present earlier. "I'd recommend you leave him be." Izuku grinned, the anger yet to subside from his mind.
"What if I don't want to?" He questioned, watching as the man shook slightly, whether with sobs or laughter, Izuku wasn't sure. "I don't like his eyes, they remind me of–"
The man disappeared, and the next thing Izuku knew, a whirling circle of purple mist was hanging in the air in front of him. He yelped, feeling the anger drain out of his body, leaving confusion and panic in its wake, and scooted back. Behind the mist was the man who'd been in the corner of the room, his hand outstretched and reaching through the cloud. His left eye stayed focused on him, but his right darted across the room until it caught sight of another circle in front of Kurogiri's bar. He watched, immobilized, as the hand gripped the last remaining bits of what had once been a wooden stool, now turned into a pile of dust that danced across the floor. His eye flickered back to the man, and a shiver ran through his body out of a mixture of disgust and fear. The first thing Izuku saw was the mans hands. They were as pale as a corpse and carried grotesquely long fingers, attached to equally stretched palms. They were pristine, not a single blot marring the canvas of his appendages, and as he watched, they curled gracefully, one finger at a time, each bending movement releasing a 'crack' that rebounded in his ears. As his eyes moved upwards, he realized how thin the man was, almost too thin. His shirt hung loose despite his height, and the skin on his exposed wrist was pulled taut around a wrist that looked no wider than a chair leg. Despite that, he was tall, even taller than Izuku. His hunched over form towered over the bar's decor, and the shadow he cast washed over Izuku's body. However, the scariest thing about him was his face. It was scarred and dry, flakes of dead skin peeling away from his neck and from under his crimson eyes, and his mouth was twisted into a scowl that emanated hatred and venom. Greasy blue-grey hair fell around his face and just above his shoulders in a matted and tangled net that only allowed his glimmering eyes to poke through, shining with a desire to kill. The malevolance in his eyes froze Izuku where he sat, fear pounding through his body in waves.
"Kurogiri." The man spoke. His voice was raspy, like he'd smoked for his whole life. "Why did you stop me?"
"Master specifically told us not to harm him, Shigaraki Tomura." Kurogiri spoke, his voice more exasperated than anything. "I'm sure you don't want to disappoint him, do you?" The man, apparently named Shigaraki, clicked his teeth and pulled his hand out of the portal.
"This is so unfair!" He…whined? Izuku blinked rapidly, drawing his head back in surprise as Shigaraki stomped on the floor like a petulant child. "I wanted to kill him! Why does Sensei want him alive anyway, what's so special about this brat!?" The aura of menace that surrounded Shigaraki was lightening by the second, but a sense of danger still lingered around him, despite his tantrum.
"He was in a very unfortunate situation with a Pro Hero, Shigaraki Tomura. I'm sure what he said was just a result of his mind processing recent events."
"That–Yeah, I'm not sure what–I don't know what came over me there." Izuku took his chance to apologize, bowing slightly in the bed. "I'm kinda–I'm just a little nervous after I killed–After I blew Slugger up." He stammered his way through the sentence, cursing his tongue's unwillingness to function. Shigaraki whistled lowly, pouring himself a drink with one long pinky lifted carefully away from the bottle.
"You killed a Pro? I guess Sensei was right to recruit you." He took a sip and sighed with contentment. "I'll let it go just once, brat, but if you're going to be one of my party members, I won't allow disobedience again." Izuku's brain was struggling to keep up with what Shigaraki was saying, recruit? Party member? Just what had he gotten pulled into?
"Shigaraki Tomura," Kurogiri's voice came with a warning in his tone. "Sensei will talk to him about that matter, do not interfere." Shigaraki's pinky came down, and the glass turned to dust.
"Kurogiri." The man spun around slowly, until he was glaring at the mist. "Don't you think you're trying to pull a bit too much weight around here?" He kept his glare up for a few moments longer, before turning around with a scoff. "Whatever. I'll be heading to my room, don't bother me until Sensei makes his decision, this boss is kicking my ass and I'm already down to two controllers." He stomped away, his heels clicking against the hardwood floor. Izuku watched him leave, his eyes involuntarily running over his body once more. It just didn't make sense, how was he so fast with such a thin frame? What muscles were pushing him forward? What kind of training had he undergone? The fear fell away, replaced by a familiar feeling rising in his chest, the same feeling that reared its head when Bakugo was able to use his Quirk without any consequence, while he couldn't even open his hands. A bitter yet burning envy that made his teeth grind against one another and his fists clench until his hands ached, an overflowing desire to have that luck, have that power, no, to overcome that power.
"Young man, I must ask that you refrain from antagonzing Shigaraki Tomura as you just did. He has a sharp temper, and it is not easily quelled." Kurogiri's voice was sharp now, which, ironically, made Izuku feel a bit more at ease than his politeness had.
"Sure, whatever you say." Izuku waved it off. Then, his mind caught up to his words, and he froze. Had that encounter in his head done this much to change him? He wouldn't have dared to speak this way even two days ago, but now he was waving off a man that could kill him without even a little effort? It…felt good to be confident, to speak without the stutter than had haunted him for years. He looked down at his palm and smiled back at it, watching his tongue loll out and pant like a dog.
"Art reflects the artist." He remembered his Father's soft voice echoing in the studio as his hands worked skillfully on the lump of clay in front of him. "Whatever you're feeling in the moment your art is made, that's what your art will show." The clay came to life in his father's hands, a body forming and the beginnings of a face appearing in the material. "For example, when I think about your mother, I think about how I wish we could be together forever, I think about the future." His mother's frame was carved out of the lump, and Izuku remembered thinking it looked just like her, from the dimples to the way her hair flowed over her shoulders. "That way, whatever I make becomes a representation of that hope, an everlasting wish." The clay statue was finished, a perfect representation of his mother mid-laugh, one hand thrown up to cover her mouth and the other one reached out to stabilize herself. His father let out a happy sigh, and put his hands on his hips. "Well, you're a bit too young to understand that for now, but keep that in mind when you start getting famous!" He laughed, reaching out to ruffle Izuku's hair. Izuku leaned in unconsciously, tilting his head forward, but his father's hand just passed through his head, and now he was back in the real world, where his Father was dead and his Mother was too. What did he feel when he made his art? Izuku wondered, clenching his fist. What was the thought behind his art, the feelings behind his art?
A loud static buzz cut him out of his thoughts, and he whipped his head up to see an old TV screen on a stand in front of the bar counter boot up into life, the static replaced by a blank screen.
"Are you quite alright, my boy?"
Izuku's head fell off of his shoulders.
He took a deep gasping breath, reaching for his neck, and his arm was cut off.
He choked on pain, trying to gather his thoughts, and his body was split in half lengthwise.
He burst into flames.
He drowned.
He died.
Over and over, for what felt like hours he felt a variety of different deaths, crucfixion, strangulation, shot, every way a human could die he felt it. He felt it until he was intimatewith the pain, with the darkness that followed.
"Oh my, I'm sorry about that!" The aura cleared up, and suddenly he was back in the bar, sweaty and shaking but undoubtably alive. He inhaled sharply and exhaled just as quickly, feeling his lungs expand and beg for air. "It's been a long time since I used that Quirk, it has a mind of its own sometimes." The voice mused casually, like it was talking about an old drill that didn't work as well as it used to.
"Who-who are you?" Izuku choked out. He was covered in sweat and his face was running with tears, but he forced the words out nonetheless.
"You don't need to know that at the moment." The voice hardened like steel, before softening again with the next words. "We found you in quite a peculiar situation, child, what with you killing a Pro Hero, especially one we were watching over." Izuku stiffened up, panic creeping up his stomach as clay slithered towards his palms.
"Are you guys some sort of vigilantes or something? Some undercover police force?" He questioned suspiciously. His hands were clenched tight around two balls of clay, and his muscles were tensed to their max, ready to throw out at a moments notice. If he could just break the TV before the man used his Quirk…!
The man behind the screen burst into laughter, his voice booming and low. He seemed almost hysterical in whatever amusement he'd derived from Izuku's words, and it knocked Izuku out of his tension immediately, his hands whining in disappointment as they ate the clay he'd asked them to form.
"Did you hear that, Kurogiri?" The man chortled, speaking through a few stubborn chuckles. "He asked if we were the police!"
"I did indeed, Master." Kurogiri nodded, although he didn't seem nearly as amused as his master was. Honestly, he looked almost…empty.
"Child, if we were some vigilante group or, it tears me up just saying it, the police, you would be in a cell right now." The man spoke, his voice now carrying a slight hint of laughter. "No, you've misunderstood. We weren't watching Slugger to protect him, he was the next one on our list!" His voice was disturbingly cheerful now, and something about it forced Izuku to ignore his base instincts.
"What was the list for?"
"Why, to kill of course!" The man said in the same joy-filled tone. Izuku's brain was falling behind the conversation. They were trying to kill Slugger? And if he was next, did that mean there were more before him? If that was true, and they were killing Heroes, then–
"You guys are Villains." He said, his tone quiet and fearful.
"Well, I thought that was rather obvious." The man said, his voice still carrying that bit of laughter. "We work in a bar, someone tried to kill you, and I'm not even showing you my face! Really, police officers were quite a wild identity to choose." He clapped his hands together before Izuku could even start feeling insulted, and cleared his throat. "Now then, since you've helped us out a bit, and you know that we aren't here to arrest you, I'll give you a choice!"
"A choice?" Izuku parroted, confused and overwhelmed. "What kind of choice?"
"A choice of rewards." The man said gleefully. "As my protege would put it, you helped us defeat the boss, so now you get to pick some of the loot, make sense?" Izuku nodded, but he had a feeling that even if he'd said no, the man would have continued as he was now. "Good, the choice you have to make is between three things, first, I can give you some money and you can be on your way, provided you take an oath not to release our location." Izuku nodded again, slower this time.
"How much money are we talking here?" He couldn't help but ask, curiosity and greed fighting in his head. The man hummed thoughtfully for a second.
"How about 150,000 dollars?" The number had Izuku disappointed, but the currency nearly had him spit out his heart in shock.
"D-Dollars?" He sputtered out, clutching his chest. "That–That's a ridiculous amount of money!"
"That's the bounty on the Pro Hero Slugger." The man corrected mildly.
"Pro Heroes have bounties?!" Izuku asked in shock. This was a whole new world for him! His thoughts drifted slightly, if Slugger of all people had a bounty that high, then how high would someone like Kamui Woods' bounty be? A few hundred thousand? Maybe even a million? The man cleared his throat again, this time with a slight annoyance.
"Are you paying attention again? Good, let's continue." He waited, maybe to see if Izuku had another question, but continued when he kept quiet. "The second thing I can offer you is a place to stay, whether you use it as a home or as a bunker is up to you, but you can stay there as long as you like." Izuku couldn't help but gulp down a ball of saliva that formed at the thought of a permanent home, one with heating and a bed, one where he wouldn't have to worry about getting kicked out or robbed.
"What–What's the third option?" He asked, his mouth dry.
"The third option," The man spoke solemnly. "Is a way to obtain both of the earlier two rewards at the same time." Izuku's jaw hung open.
"What do you mean?" He spoke, voice quivering.
"If you become a member of our group, our League of Villains, you can fight and kill Pro Heroes for their bounties as you like, and we will cover for you and assist you. If you are a member, we will house you and feed you, we will, for a lack of a better term, carry you to your goals. As a member, we will aid you in any way we can." He spoke like a preacher, his words filled with conviction and strength, but Izuku wasn't tricked so easliy.
"What's the catch?" He narrowed his eyes, but he couldn't keep the longing out of his voice.
"Well, as a member, you are expected to listen to our commands." The man said, his voice hard. "You will be asked to fight for us, to steal for us, to kill for us. We are villains, after all, and no one will be spared by us." Izuku shuddered.
"Can I–Could I have a moment to think?" He asked eventually, his body cold to the very bone.
"Of course, this is quite an important decision to make!" The man's voice was cheery again, like he hadn't just asked Izuku to be a murderer. Could he do it? He knew he could steal from anyone, he'd done it for a month at this point, but could he fight? Could he kill? He had killed Slugger, but that was in self-defence, could he really kill someone without a reason to? His thoughts drifted, until he remembered hiding in a dumpster from a store owner whose only motive was profit, until he remembered an entire street of people staring at a boy covered in slime and burn marks, and then staring right past him. He thought until he remembered his father being put in handcuffs, forced to march into the car as all of their neighbours watched, some of them filming.
What reason did they have to watch as they did? What reason did they have to stop from interfering, from helping?
He remembered All Might slapping him awake and jumping away without even a confirmation that he was okay, he remembered the figurine of Ryukyu, swung through the air by a child whose mother refused to even look at him.
What reason did they have to leave him behind, what reason did they have to betray their duty as Heroes?!
He remembered Bakugo's smoking hands, the burning pain that came from the explosions, he remembered his whole class cheering, trying to become Heroes.
What was their reason? Did he really need a reason?
He remembered Slugger. He remembered being pinned to the wall and beaten, he remembered being threatened and the bat swinging up, but, most of all, he remembered how he had blown his leg clean off his body. Slugger was beaten by that point, if Izuku really was acting out of self-defence he should have stopped there, but he didn't. Izuku had walked over and buried him in clay, enjoying every moment as Slugger switched from begging to blubbering to anger, and he remembered the beautiful mix of blood and ash that swirled together to create a truly beautiful piece of art. Finally, he remembered his parents.
'Find your own art, Izuku.'
'One day, you'll be even more famous than I am, your art is gonna spread across the whoole world, Izuku.'
"If I become a member, can I move as fast as Shigaraki did?" He asked, envy burning bright in his chest as he recalled the speed of the blue-haired man, the power he held. "Can you make me stronger?"
"Of course I can, I can make you as strong as you want." The man cooed, sounding pleased.
"Can you make me strong enough to destroy them? Strong enough to blow their heads to pieces so that they can't even look at me again?" Izuku asked, envy turning to wrath.
"I can make it so that they are all lined up in front of you, ripe for the picking."
"Can you help me spead my art?" Finally, the voice lost it's surety.
"Your…art?" Izuku grinned, rage turning to pride, and tossed a clay ball high into the air. He watched in awe as it exploded in a bright flash, the shockwave minimal.
"No one has any appreciation for my art." He said, relishing in the light. "To me, art is in that brief moment of beautiful illumination, the melded together mush of blood and ash, the beauty of the transcience of life, that is art. I want them all to feel my art, to become my art, and my art," He splayed his arms out wide, basking in imaginary applause. "Is an explosion!" He panted, out of breath after such a speech, and turned back to the TV.
"Can you help me spread my art?" He asked again, pride turning to desire. "The whole world should know my art, so can you help spread the art of Izuku Midoriya?" The man laughed, pleased with something Izuku wasn't sure about.
"I can make you the most famous artist the world has ever seen, Izuku Midoriya, I will make it so that countries tremble from you name and governments grovel at your feet. I will teach you to reach the stars and break them. I will teach you to destroy, and to rebuild. I will teach you to shape the land as you wish, and this, I swear on my name, the name of All For One." Izuku nodded sharply, then hopped out of the bed and kneeled down.
"Then I hope I can be a good student, Master."
Izuku Midoriya knelt at the feet of the devil, and he basked in the glory that would be his in the future.
"Very good, Young Midoriya." The voice crowed. "We will begin your training tomorrow." Izuku blinked.
"Tomorrow? Why not now?"
"We have to get everything set up for your initiation." The man's voice took on a cruel tone. "So for now, how about you take a bit of a nap?" Izuku's confusion only grew at the man's words, but suddenly his eyes felt heavy, and his body began swaying.
"A nap…sounds great." He yawned, falling to the side, but by the time he hit the ground, Izuku had fallen into a dreamless sleep.
When he awoke, he was no longer on the bed. His eyes were crusted shut, but he could feel stone underneath him, and there was a stuffy dampness in the air that made it hard for him to breathe. He wiped frantically at his eyes, but there was some sort of cloth covering his left eye, making it impossible to see out of his normal eye. He just managed to clear out his right, wincing in pain as it acclimated to the sudden burst of even dim lighting, when an intercom system clicked on.
"E-hem." An elderly man cleared his throat. "Hello, Izuku Midoriya. My name is irrelevant to you at the moment, so for now you may call me 'doctor'. You may have some questions right now, but I'll ask you to remain quiet." Izuku scowled, but elected to listen. Worst case, he was in jail, best case, All for One had actually helped him. Either way, he had nothing to lose anymore. "I am Lord All for One's faithful doctor, and as of now, your initiator. I'll give you 2 minutes to look around and familiarize yourself, use the time wisely."
Izuku listened, sweeping his eye across the bright darkness. The room was huge, like an entire office floor had been emptied and shoved underground. His eye twitched as it zoomed in and out to take in details, there was a full gym setup in one corner, and across from it was a large empty area. Closer to him, there was a small mattress on the floor that looked to be as thin as paper, and a bit further away there was a small desk with what looked to be an old laptop, and a tub of pencils that were all sharpened perfectly. Next to the desk were library-sized bookshelves that were all full to the brim, and placed on the opposite side of the desk was a giant bucket full of what looked like balls of dirt. In the middle of the space was an area where the ground fell in, from what he could see it was a dirt floor and there was an entrance tunnel not far from where it opened.
"Time's up!" The doctor's voice echoed through the area once more. "Have you gotten the lay of the land yet?"Izuku nodded, then remembered where he was.
"Yes, I have!" He called out, hoping the doctor hear him. Considering the hum that was released over the intercom, he assumed he didn't need to worry about that.
"Then, how many sections would you split this area into, and give each one a name." Izuku raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"What's the point of that?" He wondered, sticking his hands into his pockets.
"The Lord was kind enough to give you an opportunity to grow and you question his methods?" The doctor's voice was quiet now, menacing. Izuku's eyes widened, and he yanked his hands out of his pockets.
"No, no, I was just–!"
"Silence!" The doctor bellowed with more force than Izuku would have ever expected from his earlier tone. "The Lord may be kind with you, but I am not him! I demand obedience from my students, and if I cannot get it from you, I will just kill you! Now answer. The. Question!"Izuku felt his forehead break into a cold sweat, and this time he listened.
"Five sections," He called out. "The Gym, the Library, the Bed, the Arena, and the Empty Space." He waited with baited breath, biting his lip as the doctor hummed again.
"Not good enough." There was a loud click, and suddenly the area burst into light. Izuku let out a gurgling cry and clutched his eye, feeling it burn and sting like he'd been stabbed as it was assailed by the glow. "You missed what was in the empty space that made it a different area, and your sight failed to see deep enough into the Arena." Izuku was only partially listening, his mind was still consumed by agony. Mercifully, the lights dimmed, and he was able to stand back up, albeit shakily. He looked back over at the empty space, and this time he could see a range next to it. There were items, guns, that filled the racks next to its entrance, and at the other end was a long line of targets that were previously invisible to him. "I'll be continuing these tests as the months continue, see to it that your vision gets better."
"Yes sir." Izuku panted out, his heart racing from pain.
"Good. Now, let's get to what you're doing here. The Lord told me that you wanted power, enough so that the whole world would know your name, do you know how to obtain that?" Izuku opened his mouth, but the doctor steamrolled over him. "It's through working. Only through effort will you be able to grow, and only through breaking your limits will that effort prove effective. This area is a space designed for you to train in, to grow stronger in, and to gain experience in."
"How am I going to gain experience, sir." Izuku spoke, this time he was able to get the question out.
"How about you get a first-hand taste of it?" Izuku gulped nervously, something in the doctor's voice told him he'd regret asking. "Go into the tunnel and exit on my command." Izuku obeyed, fearful of the light turning back on. He stepped into the tunnel, each step building the fear in him up further and further, until he stood at the exit shaking. The exit was a jagged arch that opened up into a large dirt arena, and now that he was closer he could see what looked like fake, miniature cities and walls that dotted the floor.
"Step out and face your training partner, Midoriya." The doctor's voice, almost cruel in its delight, gave him his next instructions, and he obeyed once again. The dirt crunched under his feet, and as he got closer to the middle he was able to see the gate across from him slowly being drawn up. The loud grinding of stone against metal forced him to clutch his ears in pain, and as the door was drawn up higher and higher his tension only grew with it. The first thing he saw was a pair of light gray feet, digitigrade and clawed. The door lifted, and his eyes went with it, revealing long legs, thick with muscle that seemed to be trying to burst out of its skin prison. His eyes widened in horror, and bile rose from his stomach as the creature's arms were revealed, dangling below it's knees, clawed and webbed. They twitched as more of the monster's body was revealed, seizing and relaxing horrifically. Finally, the monster's head was revealed, and Izuku almost threw up. It had no upper skull, just an open brain with two blank eyeballs rolling around in the gray matter. It's mouth thankfully had skin, but its jaw was hanging open, drool escaping from its lips. Its teeth were sharp, like small pointed daggers poking out of its gums, and a longue, serpentine tongue lolled out of its mouth and down to it's stomach. As he watched, entranced by the monstrosity he was seeing, it's eyes rolled towards him.
It vanished.
Izuku blinked.
Why was his body upside down?
His world went black.
He woke up with a loud shuddering gasp and grabbed his throat, clawing at it frantically.
"So, how was your training session?" The doctor's smug voice rang out. "Did you have fun with Nomu?"
"What–What the fuck was that thing?!" Izuku panted, clutching his throat and chest. "And–I died! How am I still alive when that thing killed me?!" The doctor laughed, malicious enjoyment in his voice.
"You didn't think the Lord would give you just any training, did you?" He chided like Izuku was a child. "No, no, no, this is specially made just by him. No matter what happens in that arena, you won't die, not permanently anyway." Izuku felt a laugh bubble up in his chest, one of disbelief and fear.
"How–how is that possible?! I–I thought his Quirk was that death aura!" The doctor laughed again.
"Oh child, don't worry about that for now. Instead, rejoice in the opportunity granted to you!" This time, Izuku let the laugh out. An 'opportunity'? What was this guy talking about? What was so opportunistic about dying?! "We've provided you with a space to grow physically, a space to grow mentally, food, even a way to gain experience! Be grateful, Izuku Midoriya, for the chance that our Lord has granted you, the chance to grow uninterrupted and reach your true potential!"
Izuku felt like he was going insane, his eye was throbbing and his neck still felt…loose, for lack of a better word, but there was one thing he understood.
"This will make me stronger?" He asked, standing up once again.
"It will certainly help!" The doctor answered. "But that depends on your will. If you give up, we'll just get rid of you." Izuku chose to ignore the last words, and focused on the first.
"I'll do anything to get stronger." He whispered, moving towards the gym. "I've already sold my soul to the devil, why not work my body to the bone for him too?" He stepped into the area with determination and grabbed a pair of dumbbells.
"That's the spirit!" The doctor cheered. "Don't worry, you'll get out of here after one simple task!"
"Yeah?" Izuku grunted, his thin arms already screaming in protest at a mere ten pounds. "What's that?"
"Kill the Nomu!" Izuku nearly dropped the dumbbell on himself.
"I have to kill that thing?!" He cried out incredulously.
"That's right! Why? You don't think you can?" Izuku nearly cried out in agreement, but he remembered his father's words.
'Nothing good comes out of doing nothing.'
He barked out a harsh laugh.
"Fuck that, if I can't kill that thing, I should kill myself!" He picked the dumbbell up and started lifting, ignoring the doctor's cackle over the loudspeaker. His muscles ached, but his mind stayed determined. No matter what, he'd make sure nobody ever looked at him like that again, with pity and disgust, like he was subhuman, no, they'd look at him instead! He would make them all cower in fear, he would make them tremble in awe, he would make them fall to their knees in front of his art, and even if it killed him, he'd go out with a bang!
From behind the intercom, an elderly man in a labcoat watched as Izuku struggled with the weight.
"So begins your dive into hell, Izuku Midoriya." He mused, stroking his mustache. "I wonder if you'll ever make it out?" He chuckled lowly and walked away from the screen, humming an odd, disjointed tune as his shoes clacked against the tile.