New York City – Amidst the Chaos
Sirens wailed. Buildings burned. Smoke filled the air. The streets were a war zone. Villains ran wild through every corner of the city—hurting people, breaking everything, showing no mercy.
But under the streets—deep in the underground tunnels where no one looked—Izuku Midoriya ran. His green eyes burned with focus. His fists were tight. Sparks danced across his gloves as he raced forward.
Behind him, Maki kept pace, her eyes sharp and serious. She had already tied her hair back, her naginata strapped to her back. Her cursed eye glowed faintly in the dark. Even in the chaos, she was calm. Focused.
They reached a giant steel door marked "Main Power Grid – Sector 7".
Izuku slammed his fist into the panel beside the door. Sparks flew.
Maki watched him. "Are you sure this will work?"
"Ohh, of course it will," Izuku said with a breathless grin, his chest rising and falling quickly. "Momo said the system only needs one strong power source… and this is the biggest one in the city.
And even if it doesn't work—no big deal. You'll be totally fine, after all Momo won't let you get hurt. Worst case? New York goes dark for a month." He laughed, his eyes bright.
"A city that big can handle a little blackout. We'll just blame it on villains or lazy heroes. Either way… we win. While the people can enjoy a month-long purge night for all I care."
He turned to Maki and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, lingering just long enough for her to smile.
"Ready?"
"Always," she said softly, slipping her hand into his.
He pulled her closer and phased them both through the gate.
Inside, the power core buzzed like a living creature. Towering coils lined the room, humming with electricity. Sparks crackled in the air, and red warning lights blinked in time with the grid's pulse. The air was hot and sharp, filled with the scent of ozone.
Maki stepped in beside him, lifting a hand to block the heat. "We don't have time."
Izuku gave a small nod, already pulling off his backpack. He dropped it carefully, unzipped it, and brought out a sleek silver device—shaped like a helmet, wired into a curved control unit. It pulsed faintly with light, almost like it was breathing.
He set it down gently. "Momo made this so we could reach people in an emergency… or broadcast something big to the city."
He glanced up at Maki, his voice low with excitement. "But it needs more power than anything else could handle. A whole city grid's worth."
Maki stepped closer, her eyes scanning the helmet, then drifting back to him.
"And I'm the signal," she said with a smirk.
"Exactly."
He tapped a few buttons on the control pad. A soft beep followed, and the helmet lit up with a glow of cool blue. Static tingled in the air.
He turned to her again, brushing a few strands of hair from her face, and kissed her gently on the lips. "You won't feel anything up here," he said, pressing a finger lightly to her temple. "But your body—"
"I know," she interrupted with a grin, cutting him off with another kiss. "But I can take it."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, still smiling. "You said it yourself. I'm not like I used to be."
Izuku smiled, full of pride, and rested his forehead against hers. "No. You're stronger. Brighter. You're… incredible."
She leaned into him, laughing quietly. "Flatter me after we save the city, hero boy."
"Me a hero, now that's funny, I didn't know now heroes also do things like stealing a whole city's full month's worth of electricity." He chuckled and kissed her one more time—quick and light—then helped guide her toward the device.
There was tension in the air, but not fear. It felt more like adrenaline. Hope. They weren't just doing something crazy—they were doing it together.
And as the machine began to glow brighter, and the electricity buzzed louder, they stood side by side—hands brushing, hearts steady.
Izuku met her eyes. "Okay. I'll power it up. You focus. Project your quirk towards the citizens. Show them what their biggest fears are. But make sure not to target anyone younger than 15."
Maki nodded. Then she knelt beside the machine and placed the helmet on her head.
Maki sat on the wooden chair beside the machine and slowly lowered the helmet onto her head. The glow pulsed brighter, shifting from a soft blue to a more vibrant, icy hue. Her eyes fluttered shut as the device synced with her quirk—calibrating to her mental signature, drawing in data.
Izuku took his place beside the main coil.
The buzzing filled the room now, louder, like the walls themselves were vibrating. The warning lights flashed faster, and the coils sparked with a violent hiss. It was time.
He reached out and placed his hand on the control terminal, fingers trembling—not with fear, but anticipation. The system clicked.
Power exploded through him in an instant—fast, sharp, alive. White arcs of electricity burst around his arm, crawling up his shoulder and chest, flickering across his skin like living lightning. But he didn't flinch.
His glitch quirk reacted instantly. Emerald static spread over his body like a second skin, wrapping him in a shifting matrix of shimmering code and distortion. The moment the current hit him, his quirk fractured the raw energy, caught it, broke it into pieces that were easier to hold, to shape, to breathe.
It wasn't overwhelming but It was… exhilarating, as if he suddenly got addicted to a powerful drug.
The power grid roared through him like a tsunami crashing into a dam, but his body held—tuned by instinct, by experience.
His muscles locked, then relaxed, rhythmically pulsing in time with the electrical stream. It was hot, intense, but not painful. It vibrated through his bones, made his vision flicker at the edges—but he was steady. Grounded.
He let the excess bleed into the floor through his boots, arcs of lightning snapping down around him with sizzling cracks. His hands stayed locked to the terminal, skin flickering with fractured patterns of green and white. His eyes glowed, irises dancing with lines of flickering code.
The surge flowed into him first—furious and wild—and only what he allowed made it to the device.
The helmet on Maki's head responded with a high-pitched whine, then steadied into a hum. She let out a slow breath, her brow furrowing with focus. Her body stayed calm—no signs of shock or overload.
More current poured through him, and his glitch quirk adjusted, wrapping around each new spike like a net catching falling stars. He could feel the rhythm now—like syncing with a heartbeat that wasn't his own.
The current sang through his chest, up his spine, down his legs. Every nerve was lit up like fiber-optic wire, and for the first time, he wasn't resisting it.
He was riding it.
His eyes closed for a second.
And he laughed—quiet, sharp, and full of adrenaline.
It felt good.
No… it felt exhilarating.
"Steady," he whispered to no one, exhaling through his teeth.
A few feet away, Maki's body tensed as the signal activated. A pulse of pale blue energy radiated from the helmet like ripples in a still pond. Her hands curled into fists, grabbing the handles on the wooden chair and for a moment, a faint shimmer appeared around her like a heatwave.
The device was working.
Izuku felt the system pull harder, demanding more juice. He grit his teeth and pushed back against the surge, his glitch field sparking in tight, calculated bursts to keep the flow even.
"No spikes," he thought, focusing hard. "No overloads. Keep it clean."
Power flowed. Maki's quirk spread. The city would feel it soon.
Izuku glanced at her—calm, steady, bathed in that blue glow—and felt his heart twist with something warm and proud.
"NOW, MAKI!" he roared, his voice raw with effort.
The silver device hummed, its sound low and deep, shaking the ground beneath them. The blue light around the helmet grew stronger, pulsing like a fast heartbeat. Then, without a sound, the light burst outward, wrapping Maki in a soft, glowing aura.
Her eyes snapped open.
The faint glow in her cursed eye blazed brighter, turning into a sharp, almost blinding red. But then something unexpected happened. Her other eye—once normal—began to glow too.
The surge of electricity had done something. Her quirk, which had only been in one eye before, had spread. Now both eyes shone with the same intense red light. Almost bloody red light, as if it would suck blood from people just from looking at them. Her power had changed. Grown.
With both eyes now glowing, her vision sharpened beyond anything she had felt before. She couldn't see into people's desires before, only make people's brain remember their fear and show them, but now she could go deeper than ever—sensing people's hidden fears, dark thoughts, and buried emotions.
She didn't just reach out blindly. She could focus, pick minds, and pull their fears to the surface, mix them and combine them into one big bloody nightmare, just like tsukuyomi but nightmare version and she could control the intensity as well. A wave of strange energy shimmered around her, spreading out from the chamber like a soft shockwave.
She didn't scream. She didn't falter. She smiled. A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face.
Izuku stood behind her, grounding the current, his body sparking as he controlled the raw energy flooding from the city grid. His hands trembled as arcs of blue lightning danced across his skin, as his glitch quirk filtered and redirected the excess.
His body glowed faintly with static, veins flickering like circuits alive with voltage. It was overwhelming, yes—but it didn't hurt. Not really. In fact, he was starting to like it, as his body was absorbing the electricity more often using it to strengthen his own quirk.
Maki's breath caught in her throat, her lips parting slightly as she felt it—the moment her mind stretched across the city. Thousands. Tens of thousands. Each presence is like a glowing thread in her mind. Their emotions, their fears… all exposed.
And she could touch them. Shape them.
Her pupils narrowed to slits.
Above ground, for just a moment, the entire city seemed to hold its breath. A pause in the chaos. Quiet, tense, and waiting.
A hulking villain, mid-smash of a storefront, suddenly froze. His eyes, wide with terror, stared at nothing. To him, the bustling street vanished, replaced by a dark, cramped closet.
Maki's cursed eyes gleamed. Her blood-red irises pulsed as she locked onto him from afar, lips curling upward into a slow, satisfied grin.
"Ooh… closet trauma," she murmured, eyes flicking in pleasure. "Let's wrap it tight and personal."
She reached into his mind and spun the fear like silk, twisting and pulling—layering memory with raw emotion. A shriek echoed in his mind.
The air around him grew heavy, dust motes dancing in the single beam of light from a crack in the door. He tried to move, but his limbs were bound. And then—his nightmare's voice hissed:
"You'll never escape, little brother."
His worst fear: being trapped, powerless, at the mercy of the older sibling who had tormented him his entire life. He crumpled to the ground, sobbing.
Maki chuckled, her voice low and musical. "Such delicious helplessness."
She turned her head slightly, licking her lips. "Next."
Across the city, a seasoned hero, known for his unwavering courage, was mid-flight, pursuing a group of fleeing thugs. Suddenly, the thugs, the city, the sky – all dissolved.
Maki had found him.
Her pupils dilated. "Let's see what makes you twitch…"
The seasoned hero found himself back in a sterile white hospital room. The scent of antiseptic thick in the air. On the bed, his younger sister, pale and still, lay unresponsive.
The flatline from the monitor was a deafening roar in his ears. He reached out, his hand passing through her ethereal form.
"No no no—come on—no…"
He was reliving the moment he failed to save her. The guilt a crushing weight on his chest. He plummeted from the sky, thankfully caught by his own quick reflexes before hitting the pavement, his face ashen.
Maki's breath hitched.
"Guilt… fear… regret… mmm. You carry so much weight, little hero." Her voice was almost sultry, eyes half-lidded. "Let me help you drown in it."
A high-ranking Yakuza boss, barking orders at his subordinates, felt a cold dread seep into his bones. His lavish penthouse transformed into a dilapidated shack—the same one he grew up in, filled with the ghosts of his past. His father, drunk and enraged, stood over him, a belt raised high.
Maki giggled, eyes glowing like molten rubies. "Ahh… Daddy issues. How cliché… but always so effective."
The boss, a man who commanded fear, whimpered, shrinking back into the corner, a child once more.
"Fear," Maki whispered with delight. "Not just felt—but remembered."
A young reporter, frantically typing a breaking news story in a makeshift press tent, gasped. Her laptop screen flickered, then showed only a blank page. Her fingers flew, but no words appeared. Her voice, when she tried to speak, was gone.
Her nightmare: losing her ability to communicate, to tell stories, to be heard.
She screamed, but no sound escaped.
Maki's expression softened into a cruel smirk. "You wanted the world to hear you? Now it never will. Silence is so poetic."
A street artist, mid-spray on a vibrant mural, saw his colors drain away. The city around him turned to an oppressive grey. His hands, once so nimble, became gnarled and stiff, unable to hold a brush.
His nightmare: the loss of his art, his passion, his very identity.
He stared at his hands, tears streaming down his face.
Maki's grin grew wider. "I didn't just steal your hands—I stole your soul's voice. And ohhh, the ache it leaves behind…"
A young woman, no older than twenty but clearly above the age limit, was looting a convenience store. Her eyes glazed over, and she dropped the stolen goods. She was back in her cramped apartment. Her mother's voice, shrill and condemning, echoed in her ears.
"You're worthless! You'll never amount to anything!"
Her nightmare: becoming exactly what her mother always predicted.
Maki tilted her head with a mocking pout. "Poor thing. Turns out mommy was right after all, hm?"
A police officer, directing traffic, suddenly saw the cars around him transform into mangled wrecks, burning fiercely. The screams of the injured filled the air, and he was powerless, unable to move, unable to help, watching as everyone he swore to protect perished.
His nightmare: being helpless in the face of overwhelming disaster.
Maki's nails dug into her palms, her body trembling with euphoric thrill. "That helplessness… that is what you swore to fight. Now? You drown in it."
A social media influencer, posing for a selfie, saw her phone screen crack, then shatter. Her reflection in every mirror, every window, every polished surface, twisted into a grotesque, unrecognizable caricature.
Her nightmare: losing her beauty, her followers, her carefully constructed image.
She shrieked, frantically trying to wipe away the distorted reflections.
"Let the mask crumble," Maki cooed. "All that vanity rotting from the inside out…"
A construction worker on a skyscraper, high above the city, suddenly found himself teetering on a single, flimsy plank over a bottomless chasm. The wind howled, threatening to rip him away.
His nightmare: the fear of heights, amplified to an unbearable degree, combined with the terror of falling.
He clung to the steel beam, paralyzed.
Maki's voice turned singsong. "One little slip… and then you drop. But not yet. Let's keep you trembling."
A renowned chef, meticulously plating a dish in his Michelin-starred restaurant, saw his perfectly crafted food turn to stale and rotten food. His kitchen, once a sanctuary, became a desolate, empty space stinking with stale food. His hands, usually so precise, trembled uncontrollably, unable to create.
His nightmare: losing his touch, his creativity, his ability to cook.
Maki ran her fingers along her jaw. "You built your life with those hands. Now watch them betray you."
A grizzled veteran, scarred by countless battles, found himself back on a desolate battlefield, surrounded by the fallen comrades he couldn't save. Their eyes, wide and accusing, stared at him.
His nightmare: the unshakeable guilt of survival.
He dropped his weapon, his body shaking uncontrollably.
"Oh, soldier," Maki purred. "You wear your trauma like a second skin. Let it strangle you a bit."
A high-school teacher, grading papers, saw the faces of her students morph into judgmental, sneering masks. Their voices, once eager to learn, became a chorus of mockery, ridiculing her every word, every lesson.
Her nightmare: being seen as a failure by those she sought to inspire.
Maki scoffed. "A failure teaching failures. How comical."
A street musician, playing a soulful melody, heard his instrument produce only discordant, grating noise. The crowd, once captivated, turned away in disgust, their faces contorted in revulsion.
His nightmare: losing his music, his ability to connect, his gift.
"Oh yes," Maki whispered. "Play for me. Play your agony. Play for this soon to be destroyed city."
A corporate CEO, in the middle of a high-stakes meeting, saw his meticulously crafted empire crumble to dust. His colleagues, once respectful, laughed openly at his failures, pointing and jeering.
His nightmare: utter financial ruin and public humiliation.
"Your power meant nothing," Maki hissed. "And now? Neither do you."
A young couple, holding hands in Central Park, suddenly found themselves alone, separated by an insurmountable chasm. They reached for each other, but their fingers never met, the distance growing wider with every frantic step.
Their nightmare: eternal separation from the one they loved.
Maki's voice turned almost wistful. "Love is a fragile thing, isn't it? Let me show you how it shatters."
Above it all, Maki hovered in her own sea of madness, bloodlust singing through her veins. Her cursed eyes pulsed like twin stars of red death, bathing the city in an invisible light. She felt every pulse of fear, every cry of regret, every scream swallowed by silence.
The signal pulsed, a silent scream echoing through the collective consciousness of New York. Heroes stumbled, villains cowered, and ordinary citizens across the city were gripped by their deepest, most primal fears.
The chaos didn't stop—but it shifted. The external pandemonium now mirrored by an internal, terrifying torment.
And through it all—Maki laughed.
Not cruelly. Not like a villain. But like someone who had found something real. Something she knew she was craving for.
She opened her eyes slowly and whispered to herself, "So this is what it feels like… to be inside their heads."
She licked her lips, still glowing red. "And I like it."
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