Chapter Text
His frail arms pushed him to his feet, heart pounding so hard he thought his skull might crack. His legs burned with the effort, his lungs on the verge of rupturing.
"Kacchan! I'm here!" he yelled.
Fingers scratched and peeled at the black sludge, but it clung stubbornly to Bakugo, tightening its grip around his neck and slithering down his throat. Izuku’s nails tore from their bases, blood smearing across the oily surface as he desperately tried to pull the sludge away.
What am I thinking?! I'm going to die...
"Get... out of here. Dumbass," the blonde rebel managed to speak. The black tendrils wrapped around his mouth and body, tightening around his neck.
Izuku cried at the desperation in his classmate's eyes. None of his efforts worked, and seeing his friend's eyes roll into his head shook him to the core.
The villain grew tired of his efforts. It started grabbing onto Izuku. A black tendril wrapped around his wrists and slowly crushed them. With his arms restrained, Izuku used up his remaining strength to pull the black sludge away from Bakugou and onto himself.
"Damn... nerd! You're gonna get us both killed!" Bakugou's freed hand started showing sparks, and before Izuku or the villain could react, a loud blast shook the entire alley.
The explosion tore through the alley with a deafening roar. Izuku was flung backward like a rag doll, his back slamming into the brick wall with bone-jarring force. For a moment, everything went black.
It was more than what his pre-teen body could handle.
The world blurred at the edges as Izuku tried to push himself up, his body betraying him with every breath. Darkness closed in, and before he could resist, it swallowed him whole.
Some time before...
The moon shone down over the ocean and sand. The friend trio ran across the sand as they laughed and chased each other. They had been running around lighting fireworks at each other unsupervised.
"Shit, I'm out!" one of them said. The others turned towards him with mischievous grins as they all aimed their fireworks at their unarmed friend.
He sprinted towards the water, sparks and flames whizzing past his shoulders, singeing the air around him. He sprinted so fast that laughter died in his throat. He plunged into the ocean before the fire reached him.
The others grunted in annoyance. "Stop being a coward and face us!" one cheered and tossed a box of rockets on the sand. It was far enough that the water couldn't reach it, but still too far that he knew if he reached out to it, his friends would show no mercy.
"I ain't falling for that cheap tr-!" Before he could finish, the sand suddenly gave way beneath him, pulling him down with a force that felt like a thousand needles. Water surged over him, and tendrils—tight as steel cables—wrapped around his limbs, squeezing the breath from his lungs.
He flexed his legs and prepared to jump out with his quirk, but the tendrils kept pulling. His struggle was put to rest when a few tendrils penetrated his thighs.
His scream was muffled by the crashing waves. The tendrils tightened, pulling him down with relentless force. Water filled his mouth and lungs, but with a desperate surge of strength, he broke the surface, gasping for air. "H-help me!" he cried, his voice barely more than a croak.
His friends stared from the shore in terror, "n-nice try. You can't pull this shit just because you're pussy!"
His struggle was abruptly cut. The water stood still for moments before the third friend walked out of the water, seemingly not bothered by what had happened.
The two friends tried to laugh off his poor attempt at a joke. But when they saw his eyes were a deep black, and he bared his fangs.
“Pff, you think you can scare us with that lame act? Seriously, put those fangs away—they’re disgusting. No wonder you can’t get a date,” the other two friends burst into laughter.
The pitch-black eyes bore into his own. As he stepped closer, his movements were stiff, almost mechanical, as if something was forcing his body to obey. The laughter died in their throats as the silence of the night pressed in, heavy and suffocating. The left arm flew up and aimed at his friends.
His friends just stared at him, dumbfounded. "The hell is wrong with you? Don't tell me your feelings are hurt."
"Maybe we should call it a night, man. You two just soured the vibe," the third friend spoke up, "pass me the box of sparkles, I'll light it up."
When his friend attempted to get the nearby box of sparkles, he was interrupted by the bare foot of his friend over his hand, "piss off, pussy!" he snarled.
Instead, the foot pressed down harder and stiffer.
"Hey, Hey! That hurts- stop that you idiot!" crunch after snap, his hand was losing its shape. The pain was unbearable, his screams choked by terror. His former bravado was traded for teary eyes and a runny nose.
Instinctively, he stabbed the ground with his free arm, and the sand began to vibrate. His idea to cause his friend to sink failed.
The tendril pierced his skull with a sickening squelch, and for a moment, his eyes widened in shock, his mouth gaping in a silent scream. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, his body went limp, and the life drained from his eyes.
"W- what the hell is wrong with you!?" The last friend collapsed on the sand, trembling in fear.
Then his friend turned stiffly towards him as the tendril returned to him.
"STAY BACK!!!" he joined his palms together and shouted, "Verdant Flame!" The green flame roared out of his palms, lighting up the night with a fierce, emerald glow. He poured everything he had into the attack, but as the flames died down, tendrils lashed out, smothering his final hope of survival.
Finally, a black palm covered his friend's mouth as he tried to shoot out another attack. The tendrils forced their way into his mouth, muffling his screams. His body convulsed violently as they slithered inside, twisting his insides, and stretching his skin until it nearly tore apart. Then, in an instant, it was over—his body crumpled, hollow, and lifeless.
With the carnage behind him, the hollow-eyed figure turned towards the distant city lights, a predator's gaze locked on his next prey.
Cold water rained over his face, jolting him awake. His head throbbed with dull pain, and his limbs felt like lead. The bright sun stabbed his eyes, and for a moment, he could only blink against the burning light.
Izuku jumped up on his feet but almost fell over again before an arm caught him. The following voice was calm, almost reassuring.
"Woah, there kid. Be careful," said a man behind him. he sounded to be around his late twenties.
When Izuku turned around, he faced a man dressed in a light blue and white uniform. A large fish-like fin on his head and a blue visor connected to it.
Izuku's head lit up at the man; he was a pro-hero that, although Izuku wasn't a big fan of, was still high up on the hero list.
"You- you're... You are Manual!" he said in a squeaking voice. Manual looked back at him with a tired smile.
"Settle down, kid. I'll do autographs later, but right now I need you to help me out. I heard a loud explosion around here and came as fast as I could," Manual pointed at the walls and floor, "there clear evidence of a blast here but you're the only one here. Want to explain yourself?"
Izuku’s heart raced as he took a step back, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Wait, no—you’ve got it all wrong!" he blurted out, his hands waving frantically in the air. "I’m quirkless, just a useless nobody! It was my classmate—he was attacked by this giant sludge monster!" His voice cracked with desperation, his mind spinning as he tried to piece together the fragments of his memory.
Manual's eyes softened, but hardened again, "What you did was very dangerous and stupid. What do you think could have happened if things went wrong? Where's your friend? And what about that monster you mentioned?"
Manual's black eyes stared intently, waiting for a response.
Thinking back, Izuku couldn't remember anything after passing out. Kacchan was in trouble, and he rushed in without thinking. The sludge monster had them both in its grasp before Kacchan used his quirk to fight it off. The explosion had hurt him so much that his mind was still fogged up.
He looked downcast, avoiding Manual's gaze, "I don't know, I'm sorry."
With his gaze still down, all he heard was a heavy sigh. Most likely a disappointing one. It was a silent reminder of how out of depth he truly was.
After a few more questions, Izuku was allowed to go. It wasn't clear if he had been of any help to Manual. The chances were low since Manual had refused to answer any of his questions and left without signing his journal.
What was I thinking? Being a quirkless hero? I'm not fooling anyone but myself.
He looked at his phone and saw that the screen was almost completely shattered. He couldn't tell how long he was out; therefore, he assumed that the store was closing soon, and he needed to get the stuff his mom had asked for.
"Urk! ouch!" his body strained at the slightest movement, especially his hands. When he looked at them, he saw that his nails were back in place and, although the blood still stained his hands and arms, the pain was minimal in that part of his body.
Still, he made his way to the store, despite his body burning with pain.
Unfortunately for him, the store was closed due to renovations.
Turning the doorknob, he entered his home with a downcast expression on his face and empty hands. His strain had made him late.
"Izuku, baby, there you are. Where's the food?" the honey-like voice soothed him, which made breaking the news even more painful.
“I’m sorry, Mom. T-the store was closed.” He gave her a tight hug, the warmth of her embrace almost making the knot in his chest loosen, before heading toward his room.
Inko’s eyes widened with worry as she noticed the slight limp in his step and the faint bruise on his cheek. "Izuku, did something happen? You look hurt, sweetheart. Was it those bullies again?" Her voice took on a firmer edge. "I’ll get my skillet ready if they laid a hand on you!”
He held onto his mom, "It's nothing, mom. I think I'll head to bed now."
"But it's still early Izuku, you're favorite hero show is about to start and since I came home early I thought we could watch it together!"
Don't be a jerk, she's your mom!
"Thank you, mom, but I'm just too tired today. I love you, good night."
"I love you, too, honey. I'm here if you need anything." Before he could get to his room, she pulled him close and kissed his cheek. She knew it was embarrassing to him, but as his mom, it didn't matter.
He shut the door behind him and took off his shirt for another one that said 'sleeping shirt.' His eyes lingered on the cracked screen for a moment longer, his heart heavy. He couldn’t let her see it—not after everything she already did for him. He’d figure something out, somehow.
A son with a quirk could help her more than I ever could.
He sank into the All Might mattress, and his eyelids heavy as sleep began to take him. But even as sleep claimed him, a dark presence stirred in the corners of his mind and body, its whispers curling through his thoughts like a shadow, cold and relentless.