Chapter 20: The Script is Bleeding
[Sunny Midoriya POV]
Six months is a long time in "Toon Years."
In six months, a normal person might learn a language or pick up a hobby. In six months, I've managed to turn the laws of physics into a series of polite suggestions that reality occasionally forgets to follow. But more importantly, the "Chaos Crew" isn't just a band or a group of weirdos anymore. We're a synchronized tectonic plate. When we move, the world shakes.
I leaned back against the air in the back of the classroom, my heels hooked into a cloud I'd pulled out of a nearby window. I was currently "meditating," which mostly involved me turning my brain into a literal lava lamp and watching the colorful blobs float around.
"Sunny! Focus!"
A pink, acidic hand slapped my shoulder. I didn't move, but my body let out a loud [SQUEAK] like a rubber duck. I opened one eye—which had turned into a literal camera lens—and focused on Mina Ashido.
"Arcade? Now?" she grinned, her horns practically vibrating. "I've been practicing my 'Gravity-Defying Glissade.' You're going down today, Gag-Boy."
"Mina-chan, you know the rules," I chirped, snapping my white gloves as my feet hit the floor with a rhythmic tap-tap. "Winners get the golden joystick, losers have to carry Aqua's shopping bags for a week."
Mina winced. "High stakes. I like it."
We'd been doing this every three days for months. The local arcade had a permanent 'Out of Order' sign on the Dance Dance Revolution machine because whenever Mina and I got on it, the floor started to melt and the music tempo hit Mach 2. It wasn't just a dance battle; it was a rhythmic war.
I looked around the room. The evolution was visible.
In the corner, Denki Kaminari was sitting next to Kyoka Jirou. They weren't even talking, which was the biggest miracle of the century. Jirou was leaning her head back, one of her earphone jacks plugged into the specialized "Tesla-Caster" amp Mei had built for Denki. Denki's hand was resting on hers—not a big deal for most, but for them? It was a tectonic shift. He wasn't vibrating, and she wasn't stabbing him.
"The frequency is stable," Tokoyami muttered from the shadows, Dark Shadow currently wearing a tiny, goth apron and serving him tea. "The storm has found its anchor."
"Shut up, Bird-Brain," Bakugo barked from his desk. He was currently drumming on a textbook with two pens, hitting the surface with enough force to create mini-sonic booms. He didn't look at us, but I noticed he was wearing the 'Chaos Crew' wristband Toga had made for him. He hadn't taken it off in three weeks.
"Izu-chan, how's the analysis coming?" I asked, appearing behind my brother in a blur of motion.
Izuku didn't jump. He was used to it. "Sunny, look at this. Mei's latest update to the 'Nitro-Kettle' drums has increased Kacchan's output by 14%. If we time the bass-drop with his explosion-climax, we could literally blow the roof off the next venue."
"Good. We'll need the ventilation," I laughed.
Then there was Toga.
She wasn't lurking in the vents anymore. She was sitting right next to me, her messy blonde buns bobbing as she sharpened a pencil with a knife that looked far too sharp for schoolwork. She felt... different. Closer. Not the 'I want to wear your skin' closer (mostly), but a genuine, grounding presence.
"Sunny-kun," she whispered, leaning in so I could smell the faint scent of copper and strawberry bubblegum. "You're staring again. Do I have something on my face? Is it blood? I hope it's blood."
"Just checking the script, Toga-chan," I said, reaching out and giving her a soft, bouncy head-pat. [SQUEAK]. She leaned into it, her eyes half-closing. "You're looking sharp today."
"Always," she grinned, showing her fangs.
And of course, there was my nightly "tutor."
Every night at 11:00 PM, I'd log onto the 'Chaos Network.' And every night, @Creative_Composition_100—or Momo, as I now knew her—would be waiting in a private Mario Kart lobby.
In the beginning, she was all "The trajectory of the shell is suboptimal" and "I find this digital recreation to be a fascinating study in physics." Now? Last night she hit me with a Red Shell at the finish line and yelled, "GET RECKED, CHAOS-BOY! EAT MY PIXELS!" into the mic before immediately apologizing for her "unrefined vernacular."
She was becoming human. And I was becoming... well, whatever I am.
The 6-month skip had been a dream. Even Aqua had become slightly less useless; she'd figured out how to 'bless' Mei's gadgets so they didn't explode every time they were used. She was basically our magical insurance policy.
It was perfect. It was happy.
And that's how I knew the "Genre" was about to shift.
[Sunny Midoriya POV]
It happened during the lunch break.
The TV in the corner of the cafeteria was muted, playing a fluff piece about a local hero rescue. I was busy trying to eat a sandwich that kept trying to crawl off my plate when a name scrolled across the bottom of the news ticker.
[POLICE INVESTIGATION: SHIE HASSAIKAI GROUP UNDER SCRUTINY FOR ILLEGAL QUIRK-RELATED TRADE.]
My heart didn't beat. It dropped. It hit the floor with a heavy [THUD] that only I could hear.
The sandwich in my hand turned into a gray, wilted piece of cardboard. The bright, saturated colors of the cafeteria seemed to dim by ten percent. My "Script-Sense" wasn't just tingling; it was screaming.
Overhaul.
Chisaki Kai.
Eri.
I looked at Izuku, who was laughing at something Kaminari said. I looked at Toga, who was happily stabbing a cherry tomato. They were safe. They were happy.
But there was a girl. A girl with a horn. A girl who was currently being disassembled and reassembled in a basement because the "Canon" was a cruel, unyielding engine of suffering.
In the original script, she was supposed to be three or four when this started. But I'd been here for years. I'd changed things. I'd made the world a gag manga.
If the world is a gag, why is she still crying?
I stood up. My chair didn't make a sound.
"Sunny? Where are you going?" Izuku asked, his smile faltering as he saw my face.
I didn't give him a cartoon grin. I didn't pull a mallet out of my pocket. I just looked at him with eyes that were suddenly very, very old.
"I forgot to return a library book, Izu-chan," I said. My voice was flat. "The fines are getting... expensive."
I walked toward the door. Tanaka-sensei stood in the way, waving a stack of papers.
"Midoriya! You can't just leave! We have a quiz on—"
I didn't look at him. I simply walked through him. Not around him. Through him. He didn't even feel it, but for a second, his entire body turned into a sketch on a napkin. By the time he realized I was gone, I was already at the school gates.
I wasn't Sunny the Clown anymore.
I was Sunny the Editor. And I was about to cut a scene.
[Sunny Midoriya POV]
The Shie Hassaikai compound was a gray, depressing blot on the landscape.
I was floating five hundred feet in the air, completely invisible. I'd literally erased my own opacity in the "Layer Settings" of reality. Down below, the yakuza guards were pacing, looking like ants in suits.
I focused my vision. My eyes zoomed in like a high-powered telescope. [WHIRRRR-CLICK].
I looked through the walls. I looked through the floorboards. I looked past the guards and the luxury and the grime.
And then, I saw her.
She was in a room filled with white tile. It was cold. There were no toys. There were no colors.
Eri.
She wasn't three. She wasn't four.
She was six. Maybe seven.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her small hands clutching her arms. Her bandages were fresh. Her eyes... her eyes were the only things in this world that my Toon Force couldn't touch. They were empty.
"The script is wrong," I whispered.
My hands, usually covered in clean white gloves, were shaking.
If she's six, that means she's been in that room for three extra years. Three years of "research." Three years of pain that I could have stopped if I hadn't been so busy being a "Gag Character."
I felt a surge of something that wasn't funny. It wasn't a BOING or a ZAP. It was a cold, dark weight.
I pulled a phone out of the air—not a gag phone, not a toy—but a direct, encrypted line to UA.
I dialed.
"Principal Nezu," I said when the call connected.
"Sunny-kun!" the high-pitched voice chirped. "To what do I owe this pleasure? Are you calling to discuss the property damage from your last music video?"
"Nezu," I said. The air around me began to crackle. A giant, black ink-blot started to spread across the sky behind me, blocking out the sun. "I'm at the Shie Hassaikai compound."
The line went silent for three seconds. The "Playful" energy on the other end vanished.
"I see," Nezu said. His voice was now as sharp as a scalpel. "And why are you there?"
"There's a girl," I said. I looked down at Eri again. She had flinched at a sound in the hallway. "Her name is Eri. She's been in a nightmare for six years. I'm going in."
"Sunny," Nezu's voice was a warning. "You are a student. You are a civilian. To raid a yakuza stronghold without a warrant or Pro Hero support is—"
"I'm not asking for permission, Nezu," I interrupted. My voice sounded like a record skipping on a scratch. "I'm informing you. If the 'Heroes' can't find this place, then the 'Chaos' will. I'm bringing my crew. We're ending this tonight."
"And Overhaul? Chisaki Kai is a dangerous man, Sunny. His quirk can deconstruct matter—"
"He can deconstruct matter?" I let out a laugh that had no humor in it. "Good for him. I can deconstruct the story. Tell the police to bring blankets and hot cocoa. I'll handle the rest."
I hung up.
[Third Person POV - Nezu's Office]
Principal Nezu sat in his oversized leather chair, the steam rising from his tea in a perfect, undisturbed spiral. He stared at the phone on his desk for a long moment.
"Sir?" Aizawa leaned against the wall, his eyes tired. "Was that the Midoriya kid? What did he do now? Turn a city block into a bounce-house?"
"No, Shouta," Nezu said. He turned his chair toward the window, looking out over the UA campus. "He did something much more significant. He grew up."
Nezu's eyes glinted with a terrifying intelligence. He wasn't a hero in this moment; he was a master of the board.
"He is going after the Hassaikai," Nezu said.
Aizawa straightened up instantly, his capture weapon tensing. "Alone? That's suicide. Overhaul will kill him before he can pull a prop out of his pocket."
"He isn't alone," Nezu countered. "He's taking his 'Crew.' And Shouta... you have seen what happens when Sunny Midoriya stops trying to be funny. You have seen the 'Void' he carries."
Nezu took a sip of his tea.
"Chisaki Kai believes he can control the 'Quirk' of humanity. He believes he can rewrite the world through science and fear." Nezu's whiskers twitched. "He is about to find out what happens when you try to fight a God of Lawlessness with a set of rules."
"We have to stop them," Aizawa growled.
"No," Nezu said. "We have to follow them. This is not a rescue mission, Shouta. This is a generational shift. If Sunny succeeds... the concept of a 'Hero' changes forever."
Nezu looked at a screen displaying Sunny's student file. The photo of the smiling, white-gloved boy seemed to flicker for a second, revealing a silhouette of something vast and unyielding.
"Let's see what kind of world survives the Chaos," Nezu whispered.
[Sunny Midoriya POV]
I drifted back toward the school, my body a blur of static.
I wasn't invisible anymore, but I wasn't "bright." I landed in the middle of the school courtyard just as the bell rang for the end of the day.
The Chaos Crew was walking out together. They were laughing. They were talking about the arcade.
Mina was mid-sentence. "—and then I'll do the spin-move, and Sunny won't even—"
She stopped.
They all stopped.
They looked at me. I was standing in the center of the path, my hands at my sides. The white gloves were crisp, but the air around me was heavy. Gravity was actually working—too well. The pebbles on the ground were being crushed under the weight of my presence.
The smiles faded.
Izuku stepped forward, his eyes wide. He knew. He'd lived with me his whole life. He knew the difference between "Funny Sunny" and "True Sunny."
"Sunny?" he whispered. "What is it?"
I looked at them. My family.
Bakugo narrowed his eyes, his palms crackling, but for once, he didn't yell. He sensed the predator in the room.
Toga's hand went to her knife, her face going pale.
Jirou and Denki let go of each other's hands, standing straight.
Tokoyami and Dark Shadow stood perfectly still, their shadows merging.
Mei adjusted her goggles, the lenses whirring as she tried to read my "output."
Aqua... even Aqua stopped complaining about her hair. She looked at me and for a second, she looked like a real goddess—serious and ancient.
I didn't give them a speech. I didn't make a joke.
I pulled my phone out and hit the group-call button.
"I need all of you," I said. My voice was a low, steady hum that vibrated in their chests.
"Now."
CLACK!