Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[Volume 1, Chapter 1 – Rebirth of The Scorned King]

Rejection.

It was funny, really. Muzan was very intimate with that word. Far too much for his liking. It followed him since the day he was spat out into this world, and from that day forward, it haunted him like a shadow—always behind him, always reminding him that he wasn’t made for this world.

From birth, life rejected him, but he forced his way into being—forced the world to acknowledge his existence. The result of his insolence was that his body was far too frail—bones too weak, blood too thin, and flesh so tender that even the faintest of cuts would spell out his doom. Every doctor within the country that was willing to see him had told his family that he would not live past twenty years old.

Most people when they were told that they wouldn’t get to live past early adulthood, would shrink into themselves and allow themselves to wither away and die.

But not Muzan.

Muzan rejected that notion totally and utterly.

His parents, bless their souls, had done everything they could for him. They fetched every doctor from across the world to try and help him. To make him strong. To make him a true heir to the Kibutsuji Clan. But no matter what medicine those doctors gave him, no matter what combination of drugs that were forced down his throat, nothing would make him whole.

His parents despaired at that fact, and lost all hope for him. But Muzan refused to kowtow to fate. He would not die. So, despite his family telling him to give up and to accept his fate, Muzan continued to allow doctors to approach him.

Each doctor gave a unique method to try and cure his ailment, but nothing would bear fruit. Nothing would heal his rapidly failing body. It got to the point that upon his nineteenth birthday, Muzan had begun to even accept snake oil salesmen to approach the door to see if they could heal him. Not even they could do it.  

On the evening of his twentieth birthday, when his body had mostly failed him leaving him bedridden, the last doctor in a line of snake-oil salesmen approached him with a supposed cure-all medicine created out of a flower that was said to only exist on Mount Kumotori. That flower was The Blue Spider Lily, which was known for having healing properties if fully consumed alongside a concoction of drugs.

Muzan only ever consumed half of the drug before killing the doctor after being told that he had to wait an extra day to take the other half, and said other half had yet to be prepared. Because of his lack of patience, he had doomed himself.

Or, so he thought.

Because when he killed the doctor, some of the doctor’s blood had made its way into his mouth.

Perhaps it was because of the doctor’s blood mixing with the drugs and the blue spider lily that had turned him into what he became. Perhaps it was the gods punishing him for acting like a petulant child. But whatever the case might have been, all Muzan knew was this: He had become a demon. A monster of myth. A beast that wore the flesh of a human and consumed them by the dozen. A fate worse than death, some might say. But to Muzan, it had been a true gift. No longer was he weak. No longer was he frail. No longer would he die at the young age of twenty.

He would live forever!

Or so he wished.

The sun scorned him. Humanity feared him. The life he wanted to lead was robbed from him. Coupled with the unquenchable desire to consume flesh, Muzan fled his estate, but not before slaughtering his entire clan, save for one child, and disappearing into the night—after all, it was his clan that had birthed him in that frail, weak state. They were to blame for his fate.  

Over the months, he learned that by consuming others, he would gain more power. So, that was exactly what he did. He would consume, devour, and gain strength by night, recover by day, and repeat the process. For five years, he lived by those instincts. Like a beast hunting prey. Until, one day, he learned that he could turn others to his kind by sharing his blood.

It didn’t take long for Muzan to realize that he had become something more than a regular demon. While demon’s could not reproduce naturally—which he had attempted to do once or twice before eventually giving up—they could reproduce by having their blood inserted into either a corpse or a living person.

Muzan would proceed to amass an army of demons who were loyal to him and him alone. Granted, his army was not meant to take over Japan, but rather, his goal was to strike fear into humanity—to show them that they were the weak ones. That they were the ones who should fear an early death, not him.

To Muzan, it was the ultimate revenge.

Humanity had birthed him a weak body, and turned him into this thing. But instead of disappearing and becoming nothing more than a folktale, Muzan wanted to keep humanity on their toes. To make them watch their every step, to fear every shadow, and doubt their neighbours and family.  

From that day forth, Muzan Kibutsuji became The Demon King.

For 500 years, from the Heian Era to the Sengoku Era, Muzan lived as he pleased. Killing, eating, turning, and terrorizing towns. A group of people calling themselves The Demon Slayer Corp popped up around the Kamakura Era and the Muromachi Era to kill him and his demons. While a few of them had killed some of his weaker demons, none of them ever came close to those who he had dubbed The Upper and Lower Moon’s, let alone himself.

All except for one, and that man had two titles. The one the slayers gave him, and the one Muzan gave him.

Yoriichi Tsugikuni, The Sun Breather. The very first to invent breathing styles—the bane of Muzan’s existence. The man who struck fear into The Demon King. The man who made the once proud and boisterous Muzan Kibutsuji a meek, pathetic creature, and forced him into hiding.

Yoriichi Tsugikuni, The Great Bastard. Demon to demonkind. Wretch and terrorizer of The Demon King and all those who would serve his majesty. The man who would eventually pave the way for a new era of Demon Slayers more powerful than the last, forcing demonkind to lurk in the shadows.  

He and those who followed him wove fear into Muzan’s many hearts, prompting him to go even as far as turning Yoriichi’s brother into a demon. Even when Yoriichi died, Muzan still feared him. Still looked over his shoulder whenever he stepped outside, waiting for when Yoriichi would turn the corner and hunt him just as he had all those years ago.

It instilled a great fear into Muzan, and that fear was what eventually led to Muzan making the worst mistake of his entire life.

He created The Second Coming of Yoriichi.

He created Tanjiro Kamado.

Not literally, of course. But the simple action of killing the Kamado family out of paranoia due to their connection with Yoriichi caused a domino effect, which led to his current situation—his death.  

Muzan had been killed—his body poisoned and burnt by the sun, but not before throwing a final Hail Mary in an attempt to stay alive. He infected Tanjiro with his blood in a vain attempt to turn him into his successor—to create a secondary Demon King, one more powerful than the last, and usurp his body in order to achieve his life-long desire of finally basking in the sun.

And yet, despite his words of temptation—despite his desperation and his pathetic final pleas for mercy, Tanjiro rejected him. He purged the blood, and had somehow managed to cure himself of the infection using reverse-engineered demon blood, created by Tamayo.  

Muzan should have known that was what would have happened.

Muzan should have known that Tanjiro would have chosen humanity over demonkind.

And so, as he had so often encountered, for the third and final time, life rejected Muzan Kibutsuji. A man who feared death, only having ever wanted to live. A man who, despite his many, many faults, only wanted to have a chance at a normal life.

Muzan’s soul fell into the fiery pits of hell—the place where he belonged. All demons were sent to hell, ne’er to return to the land of the living. They were not even given the chance to reincarnate, for they had forsaken their natural born lives to become monsters.  

He felt the fires of hell encircling him, closing in, the crimson flames caressing his very soul. It burned worse than even the flames of the sun. He tried to reach out towards the light as he plummeted further and further into the abyss, but to no avail.

Muzan tried to scream, but no sound came from his mouth. His eyes, bloodshot and filled with a concoction of various emotions and feelings—anger, sadness, remorse, hatred, longingness—widened the further he got from the light of life.

It was ironic. When he was alive, he awoke on a bed of flowers ready to be cremated. In death, he was surrounded by the very same flames. The flames of death. His mind raced with various thoughts, but the one that kept circling back to him was a thought that he had never once had up until now.

What would be his legacy, if any at all?

Humanity never believed demons existed. Demon’s were seen as nothing more than fairytales, even during his time alive. He lived as he had died, an afterthought, rejected by society and the world. His family, for as much as they had cared for him, never tried to get to know him. The Ubuyashiki Clan, the descendants of The Kibutsuji Clan, despised him as much as he despised them.

The only ones who would be left to tell his tale would die before they reached thirty.

Then, it dawned on him. What would come of him and his memory.

He would be forgotten in the annals of history. Everything he had worked to accomplish and achieve would be buried. His name, face, identity, and work would be left to rot. His very existence would never be remembered, and his actions would only become folklore for his country.

And as he fell deeper into the fiery pits of hell, as his soul burned away into nothingness, the words of Kaguya wormed their way into his mind.

“I know what eternity is. Eternity is human feeling. Only human feelings last forever and are undying. My death will not be insignificant. If anything, it will only further boost their morale. For the first and last time, thank you, Muzan.”

Kaguya’s final words ate at him, just as the flames of hell were destroying him, and while at first Muzan believed Kaguya was mocking him, the truth was rather simple. Kaguya had seen him for what he had been. A man who was lost. Lost and without a purpose. Stumbling in the dark, trying to find meaning in life.

Kaguya, despite his hatred, did not reject him. Instead, Kaguya tried to understand him, and in that understanding, he had found the answer that Muzan had been longing for.

Kaguya, a human, had found an answer for eternity.

Memories.

Memories that would not exist of Muzan.

The Demon Slayers had accomplished their goal. They purged him of life and eternity.

The fires of hell crawled over his soul, dragging him deeper and deeper, smothering him, forcing him deeper into hell.

No…

This would not do.

Muzan’s arm breached the hellfire, heavily burned and covered in welts and rotting flesh. His claws hooked onto something, as he dangled off what his heavily damaged eyes could recognize as a small tear in the abyss.

With a herculean effort, Muzan swung his other arm toward the tear in the abyss that was hell, and tore it open more.

He would not be forgotten!

He was Muzan Kibutsuji!

He was The Demon King!

He was Eternal!

He was Perfection!

Muzan pulled with all of his might, ripping his still burning soul from the fires of hell, pulling himself toward the light he had made for himself. Just as he had been born in flames, he would be reincarnated from the depths of hell itself.

Whoever said that demons could not reincarnate was a fool. They had clearly never met him before. He refused to be rejected.

“Damn you!” Muzan roared, cursing himself as he pulled. His mutilated and burned body was crumbling, falling apart at the seams. If even just a sliver of his existence poured through, that was more than enough to grant him a second chance.

He reached his heavily burned hand into the light as he could feel his skin tearing apart. Muscle tore and bones began to crack as the hell fire tried to absorb him back into the flames, but as his hand breached the abyss and touched the light, a wicked smile plastered itself on Muzan’s face.

The fires roared, burning brighter than before, but that was fine with him. From the elbow down, his arm broke off, before sliding into the light. A victorious laugh echoed throughout the abyss as he was plunged deeper and deeper into the flames.

“I WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN!” Muzan shouted, the flames overtaking him as he cackled victoriously. “DID YOU SEE THAT, KAGUYA! DID YOU SEE MY TRIUMPH! EVEN IN DEATH, I AM ABOVE YOU!”

And triumph he did.

Because as that arm drifted about in the light, it began to twitch, shrinking down to the size of an infants arm and healing, before that arm grew the rest of its body. A small, healthy baby boy. As that baby drifted toward another, brighter light, parts of itself began to change. Tips of fingers were replaced by sharp claws, and the baby’s jaws strengthened to give it the capability to chew through human bones.

The babies teeth sharpened, and its sense of smell strengthened. Multiple hearts appeared within its body, all placed throughout in various locations, although smaller than the main heart. With that came multiple smaller brains attached to those hearts—a life insurance of sorts, in case the main heart and brain was to be destroyed.

Finally, the last change made just before the baby reached the light, was a crucial change. One that would alter the baby from now unto forever—even moreso than it was already altered.

There was a common saying that every living being knew instinctively.

The newer generation was always superior than the previous generation. It did not matter if it was a biological organism or a manufactured product. Advancements were always better.

And this was no different.

Because when Muzan died, and when his soul clung desperately onto Tanjiro as he had turned into a demon and conquered the sun, a bit of that power had passed down to Muzan.

And that power had passed down to this newborn demon.

The power to reject the sun’s damnation.

This newborn demon would be able to exist under the preview of the very thing that Muzan sought to conquer.

And as that baby crossed over from the light of life into the world of the living, surrounded by the sounds of beeping machines and extremely bright light, the baby began to cry—a sign of life. The male doctor that held the baby in his gloved hands announced the baby’s delivery, as the mother of the baby let out a tired cry of joy.

The wet nurse carefully took the child from the doctor, and passed the boy to its mother. The mother soothed the child, putting him close to her chest. The child, recognizing its mothers heartbeat, quietened down. The loud noises slowly disappeared, and the only thing the infant focused on was the breathing and heart beat of his mother.

And while the baby could not understand what the mother was saying, it did pick up one thing. A thing that sounded like a name.

“Izuku—”

Izuku… Izuku… The infants name was Izuku.

It was often said that a name was what completed the soul. Just as this newborn infant had been created from the remnants of a man who had been the supposed pinnacle of life, this newborn’s name reflected that previous purpose, even if it did not know that yet.

It wasn’t long after Izuku received his name, that his eyes began to open.

They were expecting something normal.

But Izuku was not normal.  

Unlike so many children before him, Izuku’s pupils were not soft and round like most human eyes, which was something that the doctors and the mother had expected.

Izuku’s eyes were sharp, and cat-like. Piercing and frightening.

And, what was even more bizarre, was that Izuku’s eyes were not green like his mother’s, nor were they brown like his father’s.

They were a bright crimson red—the same shade of colour as blood.

Words were thrown—words that Izuku did not understand. But what he did understand was the strange, yet welcoming look on his mother’s face. A face with bright green eyes, soft round pupils, and a youthful glow to her expression. Emerald green hair framed her face and draped over her shoulders, and her lips were turned up in a smile.

Her mouth opened, and sounds came out that Izuku didn’t understand. The only thing that Izuku understood was his name being spoke back to him. His clawed hand reached out at his mother, and as his mother stuck a finger into his tiny little hand.

A curious sound fell out of his mouth, which prompted his mother to make a sound that echoed with joy. Izuku had only been alive for a few minutes, but as far as Izuku had been concerned, his mother was someone who he knew he could trust.

And, as far as Inko Midoriya was concerned, regardless of how her son appeared, and regardless of his eyes, she knew that Izuku destined for greatness. After all, that was why she gave him that name. His name, Izuku Midoriya, was supposed to mean that he was destined for greatness, like what all mothers wanted of their children.

But whether or not Izuku, his mother Inko, or the doctors in the hospital room knew it or not, the reality of the situation and the implications of Izuku’s birth had not dawned on them.

Because for the first time in two-hundred years, a demon was created.

Now, in The Era of Peace brought about by All Might, where the world had long forgotten about the scourge that was demonkind, in an era where nicherin blades and their creation was long since forgotten by the communities that had once produced them, and in an era of Quirks, demonkind would once again encroach on humanity.

And this time, it would not go away.

This time, it would not be forgotten.

[To Be Continued]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: UNDEAD – By: Yoasobi]

[Volume 1, Chapter 2: Dawn Casts a Shadow on The Unfortunate]

Morning sun, bright and cheerful. Clear blue sky. White fluffy clouds. All the signs of a typical morning in the springtime in Japan with a small chance for rain. The sound of cars driving to and from work filled the busy streets within the city of Musutafu, which was wedged between the cities of Tokyo and Hosu, while still being a part of the greater Tokyo Prefecture.

Everyday civilians would walk down the sidewalks, approaching the train stations to get to their wanted destinations, young and old people alike. Crowded streets with cars trying to get ahead of one another, only to fail and be stuck behind yet another seemingly incompetent driver—that was why walking was seen as the better way of transport.

Multiple towering buildings of all varying purpose lined the sidewalks. Some were only a single storey, others had multiple. Some were meant for business, others held apartments, and even a scarce few were abandoned due to the building owners neglecting them. Like most other cities, Musutafu was home to several schools, but the one that was the most important right now was a little known elementary school called Sunshine Elementary.

The school wasn't really well known outside of those who lived in the poorer and lower middle class ends of the city. Not that the children who went to that school noticed. The staff there did their best to teach the children, even if they were mostly unruly. Those who were aware of the school had called it "the school for trouble makers" primarily due to the fact that those who come from it usually wind up being delinquents.

It was primarily a coincidence, though. But it didn't help when most of the kids there were always running around and constantly causing trouble for the less involved ones. One such case was a young boy with dark green hair, minding his own business, playing in the playground's sandbox.

The boy was dressed in a yellow shirt, a pair of brown shorts, ankle-high black socks and red and black runners. His skin was as pale as a ghost, though that was due to a genetic condition. His hands were clawed, and his crimson red eyes were sharp like a cats. He barely stood at four feet tall, and his aforementioned dark green hair was bushy and all over the place—like a shrub.

Izuku Midoriya, which was the boy's name, sat in the sandbox, moulding the sand to take the shape of a rough-looking tower that would eventually become a castle, all the while everyone else in his class was off swinging on monkey bars, sliding down slides, chasing each other in games of tag...

A part of him wanted to join in on the fun. But Izuku knew how he would be received.

He was an outcast.

No one wanted to be friends with him, because he was "scary-looking." Most people weren't as pale as he was, even in a Quirked society like the one he lived in. His claws were unusually sharp, so he found himself accidently scratching people with them, which didn't help his reputation much.

His eyes didn't help things, either. They were always so "intense" as one teacher put it. As if he was trying to glare a hole into something or someone. Even now, with his downcast demeanour, his eyes didn't really "relax" or "mellow out". They were always in a constant state of "pointed" and "alert."

As a result, he was often left alone. Not because he wanted to be alone, but because no one wanted to be near someone like him. No one wanted to hang around someone who was so "scary." Which was dumb in his opinion. There was a boy with a reptile face in the third grade right now, and Izuku thought he was scarier!

Not that it particularly mattered anymore. Izuku had accepted a long time ago that he was going to be alone for a majority of his school life.

Or, at least, that was what he wished to be the case. Just because he was left alone by people who he might to have wanted to be friends with, that didn't mean he was left completely alone.

"Oi, freak," a high-pitched yet also rough sounding voice spat behind him as Izuku looked over his shoulder. Spikey, explosive blonde hair, ruby red eyes, cream-coloured skin. All the defining traits of Bakugo Katsuki, of whom was dressed in a blue shirt with an explosive icon on the front and similar shorts to Izuku. "Get outta my sandbox."

"It's not your sandbox, though?" Izuku said, which prompted Bakugo to grab Izuku by the back of the collar and fling him out, causing Izuku to tumble for a few seconds and bonk his head against a nearby tree. Izuku hissed, a hint of pain in his voice as he rubbed the back of his head. He watched as Bakugo kicked over his work-in-progress sand castle, before laughing and running off.

Izuku stared, watching with mounting frustration. It was always like this. Even when he wanted to be alone, Bakugo Katsuki was always there to "put the freak in his place". That was all he was. A freak. He was a freak because of his appearance.

What was worse was that the teachers never did anything to correct his attitude. After all, he was "blessed" with a powerful Quirk, and it was "their job to ensure his bright future." He had caught them saying that to each other whenever someone would mention that Bakugo was being a jerk.

They had no intention of teaching him a lesson.

"Jerks…" Izuku thought as he came to his feet, brushing himself off, rubbing his arm as the bruise that had begun to form disappeared. It had been something he had learned that his body could do when he was very little—around the age of a toddler when he accidently cut his finger on a piece of paper. Which was rather bizarre.

See, Izuku's Quirk was, for the lack of a better word, weird. He had clear mutations with his eyes, skin, and claws—even his sharp and strong teeth. All clear signs that his Quirk would be mutant in nature. But then he also displayed Transformation-Type Quirk capabilities with his regeneration. Although, those two Quirk types were often paired together, so it wasn't all that bizarre.

However, it did get bizarre when you realize that neither his mother Inko, who's Quirk allowed her to bring small objects toward her using a weak form of telekinesis and his father Hisashi, who's Quirk allowed him to breath fire, had nothing in common with Izuku's Quirk.

It was that detail—him having a mutant Quirk—which caused his father to leave his mother when Izuku was three years old. Despite having similar facial features to him, and despite having the same hair growth, his father refused to believe that Izuku was his child. The only reason why they got child support from him was because a judge had ordered a DNA test and, shock to absolutely nobody, Hisashi was his father.

Not that his mother cared about that fact anymore. She had been done with him the moment the accusation came falling out of his face. Still, it was sad that their otherwise happy marriage had been broken apart by Quirkism. Izuku felt slightly responsible for what happened, if not entirely.

Not that he would ever mentioned that to his mother. The last thing he wanted was for her to be upset. She was already worried enough as it was, what with her having to consider taking up two jobs to support them. That was another thing about Izuku. He was more emotionally intelligent then most—able to pick up on minor things such as the twitch of an eye or a raising of the shoulder. It allowed him to get a better picture of the kind of person he was dealing with.

It was why he was so frustrated with Bakugo. Every action he performed was out of malice. Hate. Anger. All aimed toward the poor fool who happened to be in his way. Yet, he wanted to be a hero.

What kind of hero would take their anger out against those who didn't deserve it?

Izuku didn't know. But what Izuku did know, however, was that All Might would never act that way.

As he walked away from the sandbox, knowing full well that if he went back to it Bakugo would turn around and heckle him some more, Izuku went back toward the building. The teacher, who had seen the altercation, simply stared and said nothing as he walked past them.

"One day…" Izuku thought, his right hand balling into a fist. "One day, I'll show you. I'll show you all."

The rest of the day played out like every other day. Learn basic language skills that Izuku already knew because of his mother and his ability to pick up on things quickly, quiet reading time, and watching the daily show and tell—it was some kid named Kasuka's turn and he was showing off his limited edition Endeavor action figure.

When school was let out, Izuku walked home—not because his mother forgot to pick him up, but because they didn't have a car and his mother was more than likely just getting home from work; either that or she was just arriving at home. Besides, the elementary school was only a five minute walk from the apartment they lived in. His mother had enough trust in him and enough belief in him that he could get home safely.

The apartment building that he lived in was twelve story's tall, each with three apartments on every floor. The building itself was a muddy brown colour, and it was one of a group of three buildings—he lived in the first building. There was an outdoor staircase that took the person climbing it to the desired floor, which for Izuku was the top floor.

Upon reaching the top floor of the apartment building, he walked down the outdoor hallway/balcony, his expression blank as he approached his apartment door, 1204, and looked under the welcome mat sat in front of the door. There, sitting under the mat was a golden key. Picking up the key and inserting it into the front door, Izuku twisted the key to the left and upon hearing a click, Izuku removed the key and slipped it back under the mat.

Opening the door, Izuku stepped inside of the apartment and closed the door behind him, locking it just as his mother instructed that he do if he ever found himself home alone. He once heard that it was bad for a child below the age of thirteen being home alone, but more often then not, that was his reality. Not because his mother didn't care, but because his mother cared too much—so much so to the point where she'd pull double shifts to make sure they had enough money to survive.

In times like these, when he had a feeling his mother would be running late, Izuku would eat whatever leftovers there was, watch the TV until his mom came home or for a few hours—whichever happened first—then go to his room and teach himself how to do higher forms of education.

Why did he do that? Because he loved to learn. He loved to take notes. He loved to study. When he was born, the doctors had said that he had extra brains and extra hearts—not functional but also harmless. However, he was convinced they did do something because he had always wanted to learn. Even when he was a baby. According to his mom, he was always watching shows that were more learning based then the normal slop that someone like Bakugo would watch.

His favourite hero was All Might—then again, everyone's favourite hero was All Might—but after that his favourite hero was Thirteen, the space hero. Why? Because on top of being a hero, she was an astronaut and often taught lessons on TV. Those lessons were about physics and other extremely high calibre material reserved for final year students in high school.

Yet, Izuku always loved tuning into those when he was a toddler. Not that he understood what they were saying because of his infantile mind, but it was a start. He attributed that early development in his attitude part of the reason why he wanted to learn so much. Because he was exposed to it. It also helped that his mother was always on him to learn how to speak, how to walk, and how to play.

A perfect example of this was that he was ahead of everyone in learning how to write. He could write whole paragraphs with, admittedly, only a few mistakes. But everyone else was still learning basic hiragana. Meanwhile Izuku was leagues ahead of them. Once he was able to write a whole paragraph in hiragana with no mistakes, he'd be allowed to learn Kanji.

As for the apartment that Izuku lived in with his mother, it wasn't all that big. There was an entry hallway that broke off into a miniature closet that held coats and shoes. Ahead of that there was a joint dining room and living room split down the middle with the dark brown fabric couch being the dividing piece. Across from the split living room and dining room was the kitchen, which was adorned with several cupboards, a stove with an oven, a fridge with a freezer attached, an aluminum sink, and, of course, with some counter space.

There was a hallway off to the right of the kitchen and in that hallway was a bathroom with a standing shower, and beside the bathroom was his mothers bedroom. Across from his mothers bedroom was his bedroom, but aside from that, there wasn't much else about his apartment. It wasn't much, but it was home.

Taking his shoes off at the front door, Izuku stepped past the divot between the entrance and the rest of the apartment, and ran to his room. His bedroom was what one would expect from the room of a child; posters of his favourite heroes, a toy box filled with action figures, a dresser for his clothes, and a single sized bed with All Might themed coverings. There was also a desk off in the corner with writing and drawing supplies. There was a can full of pencils, a stack of papers, and a can full of coloured pencils, all of which were kept to the left corner of the desk.

Izuku made a beeline to his desk, pulled out the chair, hopped up on it, and sat down. Every day, after school, he always dedicated at the bare minimum a half an hour of practicing his Hiragana and Kanji, with at most giving himself an hour. Then, until his mother would come home, he'd draw whatever came to mind.

Although, his last few drawings were…. Strange.

Izuku was a talented drawer. He wasn't the greatest—he was only five years old after all—but his drawings were still good for someone his age. He was comparable to the drawing skill of a talented artist… in the second grade. Which, mind you, was better than the other kids in his grade. He wasn't drawing stick figures and scribbling. He had basic fundamentals and he knew depth and perception. He wasn't amazing, mind you, but he could draw a decent enough cityscape for a kid his age.

That was beside the point, though. His point was the last few drawings that he had been doing were bizarre. It depicted a battle. It was in Tokyo, and all the buildings were drawn to look like something from the early industrial era of Japan. In the drawing, several brightly coloured individuals wielding blades fought against a man with many mouths on his body with flailing thin tendrils.

He had drawn that exact scene for the last six times he had come home. It had been burned into his mind, and he had no idea why. But with each attempt at drawing it, he was able to flesh out more details. He wasn't great, and some of the parts were still sloppy, primarily how the people looked, but when he put his pencil to paper, he felt as if he was drawing out something that he had witnessed.

It was odd, and it bothered him. So, he reasoned that if he drew it out, it would go away. But the image persisted, alongside the aching feeling of failure. He didn't know why that was, but it was extremely annoying and frustrating.

Time slipped through his fingers as he finished the landscape of the scene in his head when he heard the front door close, followed by his mother calling out to him. Putting his pencil down, Izuku leapt off the chair, a smile on his face as he opened his bedroom door and ran over to his mother, who was standing in the entrance.

Inko Midoriya was a lot like Izuku, at least when it came to her hair. It was bright green with black roots, and it reached down to the center of her back, flowing out like a waterfall. She had cream coloured skin, and emerald green eyes. Her figure was cut slim, and she was dressed in a black business suit and a matching black business skirt that stopped just below her knees.

His mother worked at The Manual Agency as a receptionist—a new hero agency based in Hosu, which was a quick Bullet Train ride from Musutafu. Prior to that, she had worked at Genius Office as the same thing, but was laid off after seven years of working there.

It wasn't because of anything that she had done, but because it was expensive to go back and forth, and Best Jeanist knew that it would've been better if she had gotten a job at a different Agency that was much closer to home—he had even gone out of his way to hook her up with The Manual Agency, since it needed a receptionist! It was awfully kind of him.

"Mom!" Izuku exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her torso as he crashed into her, nearly causing her to go off balance.

"Whoa, Izuku!" Inko cried in shock before catching her balance and embracing him. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she lifted Izuku into her arms. "Sorry for being late. I was caught up in work…"

"It's okay!"

"Izuku…"

"Can we have dinner soon? I'm really hungry."

"Yes, Izuku, we can have dinner soon," Inko lowered Izuku to the ground, ruffling the mop-like hair on his head. "Let me get settled and I'll make some delicious katsudon!"

"Yeah!"

With help of Izuku, dinner was severed in no time. Katsudon, one of Izuku's favourite dishes since he could chew solids. After a brief "thank you" to Kami for allowing them to eat that day, they both dug in.

It's said that, between the ages of four to six, children will begin to experience their Quirk come into being. Sometimes, they need a trigger to awaken for the first time. Others simply exist as they naturally would.

When Izuku was born, his Quirk was more pronounced than others. His ability to regenerate, even if only a tiny amount, was significant since those kinds of Quirks were extremely rare. Although, it wasn't all that flashy or interesting. A cause of ridicule beyond his spooky appearance.

However, what no one, not even Izuku knew, was that it was just the beginning of his powers.

That said, a catalyst would need to happen in order for him to discover said powers.

And that catalyst was now.

As soon as he finished eating his beloved Katsudon, his stomach growled, as if upset. Inko looked at Izuku, eyebrow raised as Izuku covered his mouth, his pupils dilating.

"Izuku?"

Before Inko could get up and walk over to him to see what was wrong with him, Izuku bent over and vomited, barely digested food and bile spewing all over the hardwood floor as Inko rushed over to be by his side. It wasn't long before he was finished, when not even a second later…

Izuku passed out in her arms.

[Ending Song: Last Dance – By: Eve]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: UNDEAD – By: Yoasobi]

[Volume 1 – Chapter 3: Thusly, The Moon Rises Upon A New Epoch]

Change.

Change was something that Izuku didn’t like. Simply put, he liked the way things were; End of discussion. Patterns, information, knowledge, logic—it all lined up in a nice and orderly fashion that made it so that he didn’t have to alter a thing. Even at a young age, he had already grown to despise change.

And it was because of his hatred of change that caused him to be shocked at his current, unknown location. A sensation of doubt and confusion filled his mind, plaguing him with questions he didn’t have the answers to, which was yet another thing that he loathed.

There was a gap in his memory. He couldn’t quite remember what happened prior to blacking out. All he remembered was that he had been about to sit down and have dinner with his mother, when suddenly he threw up, and then… nothing.

Now, here he was, sitting in a hospital bed, the light of the moon shining down on him through the window he was sat next to. The white sterile curtains were drawn back, and the window itself was cracked open just a smidge to let air flow into the room.

“Why am I here?” Izuku wondered, looking around his surroundings. Five other beds were in the room with him, though they all had curtains drawn around them. He was the only one who didn’t. He couldn’t guess as to why, but it didn’t matter. Not to him, anyway.

Over to his left, there was a small table, and on it was a note. It was written in Hiragana so that he could read it, and the handwriting belonged to his mother—hers was the only one that looked a little scratchy, aside from his classmates, of course.

“If you wake up late at night and I’m not there, I’m talking to the doctors on the first floor, and you’re on the third. Be patient. I’ll be back soon – Love: Mom.”

Izuku blinked. Was he sick?

No… He wasn’t sick. He didn’t feel sick, anyway.

“What’s going on?”

Izuku never got sick. Not when he was an infant, not when he was a toddler, and not in recent memory. Hospitals were for sick people, and unless something changed, Izuku shouldn’t be here.

Izuku looked down at himself, blinked, then frowned. He didn’t feel ill, though he guessed he wouldn’t know what to look for or know what being ill felt like. Although, if he had to guess, it probably didn’t feel good. After all, “ill” was a term used for something bad. He learned that in Language class.

He looked over to the moon, of which stared down at him from the inky abyss. It was like a massive eye, wide and unwavering, observing him.

Judging him.

Izuku had always admired the moon. It was like looking at a familiar friend. He felt safe under the light of the moon. Unlike the light of the sun, which was harsh and demanding, the light of the moon felt like a soft blanket, or a gentle touch from someone who was filled with compassion and care.

He and the moon… in some bizarre way, he felt as if he was connected to it. He had heard tales of how the moon was actually the true form of a God. Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto. He was the brother God to Amatarasu-Omikami, and was responsible for the sea and storms.

Izuku wasn’t one to believe in Gods. He saw them as nothing but folktales for others to find safety in. But Tsukuyomi felt real to him. As if the real life deity shone down on him. As if it was trying to tell him something.

Alas, he knew he was too young to understand it. This was why he loved learning. So he wouldn’t be confused about every little thing that plagued his curiosities. Though, he supposed that was why he was born as intelligent as he was.

It was painful, at times…. Not being able to think like Bakugo or Matsuda.

Not being blissfully unaware of how boring the world really was….

Sometimes, a part of him wondered, if he was perhaps cursed?

“Izuku?” His mothers voice cut through his thoughts like a precise knife, and before he could register anything, she quickly embraced him, catching Izuku off guard. “Oh, my precious Izuku! You’re alright! I was so worried!”

“Ah! Mom!” Izuku squirmed for a few seconds, only stopping when he heard her sniffling. “Mom?”

“I’m sorry, Izuku…. I should’ve known, I’m so sorry!”

“Huh?” Izuku leaned back, a prompt from him for Inko to let him go, which she did. “Know what?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t be aware,” another voice, this one belonging to a stranger, spoke out as Izuku looked over his mothers shoulder. The voice belonged to a man of slim build, wearing a white lab coat and blue scrubs underneath. He had a pair of thick black framed glasses alongside a small comb-styled black mustache with matching black hair that stopped just below his ears.

The man was slightly taller than his mother, and he carried himself with an air of professionalism that unnerved Izuku just a tad. His arms were behind his back, and his expression was borderline somber—as if he was about to deliver dire news.

“Who’re you?” Izuku questioned, his eyes narrowing slightly. He didn’t trust the man—granted, Izuku wasn’t one to trust easily, given his circumstances. It was something that the man seemed to recognize immediately, clearing his throat.

“Young man, my name is Dr. Junichiro Hazamada. I’m a Quirk Specialist, and my Quirk allows me to see through walls. It is simply called X-Ray Vision. Firstly, I should inform you that you’ve been asleep for well over three days,” Dr. Hazamada said, catching Izuku once again off guard.

“Three days…?”

“Yes. It was caused by malnutrition, or, if that words too big for you, simply put, you’ve been starving.” As Dr. Hazamada said that, Izuku couldn’t help but scowl in frustration.

“But… Mom feeds me every day?” Izuku was puzzled. How could he have been starving? It didn’t make any sense. His mother fed him daily, and he ate three square meals a day. It didn’t make even a lick of sense. None at all!

“Yes. She does. However, with your mothers consent, while you were asleep, we ran some tests on you to figure out the root cause of your malnutrition,” Dr. Hazamada explained before pulling something out from behind his back. The object in question was a see-through bag of blood with a cap on top of it, like a water bottle. “You must be hungry, right?”

Izuku’s stomach audibly rumbled, prompting Dr. Hazamada to chuckle. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Dr. Hazamada stood next to Inko, glancing at her as she nervously nodded. “You see, during those tests, we found that your body rejects all forms of food, raw or cooked.”

Dr. Hazamada paused for a moment, before standing next to Inko, flanking her left as Izuku kept a trained eye on him. Then, he continued. “In a last ditch effort to save you from starving to death, one of my co-workers, Dr. Hiroichi, decided to feed you various kinds of blood. After many attempts at feeding you many different kinds of blood from varying sources, there was only one kind of blood that worked. I’m here to prove my hypothesis.”

Dr. Hazamada handed Izuku the bag of blood, as Izuku stared at it, a single eyebrow raised in curiosity. As he stared, he couldn’t help but feel tempted to rip into the bag. As if something was shouting at him to consume the fluid within as if it was liquid gold. Caution coursed through his veins as he blinked. “You… want me to drink this?”

“Yes. If you throw up after you’ve consumed the bag, then it will be marked as a fluke. However, if it is wrong… things could be even more dire than before. Should you not throw it up, then things will be less dire, although it will cause you problems in the future.” As Dr. Hazamada said that, his voice contained a hint of worry. Izuku looked to him, then to the bag of blood.

Blood…

Izuku didn’t know what to think of blood. It had always fascinated him to some extent. Whenever someone at the school would get a cut or a scrape, he could smell it from a long distance, usually about ten to fifteen meters away from where he was. He didn’t know why that was the case, and never really bothered to care about it either.

So, when he took the cap off the bag of blood, Izuku didn’t expect to be assaulted by a sudden fragrance that could only be defined as something… alluring. Like freshly cleaned laundry, or his mothers cooking, or the sweet smell of freshly baked mochi. Izuku could feel himself drooling, which he quickly wiped away with his free hand.

He wasted no time, putting his lips to the bag as he downed the whole of it in one go. He made sure none of it spilt over, and by the time he was done, Izuku felt refreshed. Inko looked mortified, and Dr. Hazamada looked intrigued. Unbeknownst to Izuku, his eyes were glowing, granted it only lasted for a few seconds before it vanished.

It tasted like what he imagined pure bliss distilled into a food would taste like. He was on cloud nine. Never in his life had he tasted anything as good as this. Not even katsudon could compare. He licked his lips, his eyes frantically looking from left to right to find more, but much to his displeasure there were no more bags around him.

“How do you feel, young man?”

“I feel…” Izuku didn’t know how to reply. Energetic? Amazing? Euphoric? What was there to say? “Better…” Izuku replied as he felt something within him stir. He felt… strong. Like he could punch a hole through a wall with ease.

“What does this mean, Doctor?” Inko asked as Dr. Hazamada hummed.

“It’s means that not only does your son possess attributes of a Transformation-Type Quirk with his regeneration, but, his body has also somewhat mutated. His body seems to only accept Blood. Specifically, human blood.”

“H-How am I supposed to get him blood to drink?!” Inko exclaimed, worry written all over her face as Dr. Hazamada frowned.

“When you get home, I suggest that you sign him up for the blood reciprocate drive. Pro Hero Vlad King set it up to help those with Blood-Related Quirks. Every month, you’ll get thirty bags of blood for a fee of just over 20,000 Yen, paid monthly. It should keep young Izuku sated,” Dr. Hazamada said as Inko frowned.

She looked hesitant, and who could blame her? She was already strapped for money as it stood, so paying for another expense was something she couldn’t truly afford to do. However, given that she would have to buy less food from now on, it could lighten the budget for something like this…

“I don’t have much of a choice,” Inko thought, looking over to Izuku, who was absently squeezing his hand into fists repeatedly, as if amazed by something. She had desperately wanted her son to be normal—as normal as one could get in a Quirked world, mind you, but still normal. This development threw that completely out the window.

She thought back to her mother, and how she chided her when she told her mother that she was going to be running off with Hisashi.

Before she had married Hisashi, her name wasn’t always Inko Midoriya. It had been Inko Soriyama, and she had been apart of a rather wealthy clan of talented Swordsmen and women. Inko, however, never had any talent with a blade, so she decided to be a simple stay-at-home helper. Her father was dissapointed in her, but her mother had shared the same talent with a blade, or more rather lack thereof.

When she met and eventually married Hisashi, her father wanted nothing to do with her, casting her out of the clan and forbidding her or any of her children to so much as even look at the estate ever again. A harsh punishment, but the Soriyama family was steeped in tradition, and were staunch upholders of it.

Apparently, from what she could recall of what her father had said, they were descendants of a once mighty clan that hailed all the way back from the Heian Era. What that clan’s name was eluded her entirely, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

It was unfair, but then again, so was life. If only she had their help, maybe things would be easier. But as it stood, she was on her own. Her ex-husband was a whole continent away, and had accused her of cheating on him due to Izuku’s Quirk. Her family had banished her and no one in her family wanted to talk to her. Mitsuki already had her hands full with her own son, and all of her other friends weren’t exactly overflowing with money.

A sigh escaped her lips as she looked over to the doctor, nodding. “Very well.”

“Good. Now, all I need you to do is sign the release form downstairs, and you’ll be good to go.”

Not too long after Inko did as she was told, and after a short walk to the train station to take the train home, sitting near the doors of the train, she glanced over at Izuku who was transfixed on the moon. She wouldn’t deny that she was extremely worried for him, but that was to be expected.

She wasn’t a fool. Inko was well aware of the bullying occurring at his elementary school, and had more than her fair share of angry phone calls to the school for not doing their job, but this was going to be worse. When his peers realize he’s no longer bringing lunch's to school or partaking in snacks, questions are going to be asked, be it by other children or faculty. Knowing Izuku, he would be blunt and forthright, and that will only make things worse.

Forget being bullied for being weird and stand offish. Rumours would spread that he would bite people to consume blood. He was going to become a prime target for bullying. Kami forgive that he fights back, because that would make things even worse.

The last thing she wanted was for Izuku to be a loner, but things were shaping up to be that way.

Getting off the train, the rest of the walk home was done in silence. When they finally got home, Inko made it a point to call the drive and sign her son up as soon as possible. She paid the upfront fee, and was assured that she would receive a box of donated blood within the next twelve hours. She also called her work to schedule a day off, which had been a struggle to do because her boss tried to guilt her into coming in.

After it was all said and done, she turned to look around for Izuku, who was seated on the couch, watching TV. Inko sat next to Izuku, who glanced at her, before looking back to the TV. He was watching another one of those educational documentaries, which… now that she thought about it, her son was never normal, was he?

Izuku had always been driven to learn and absorb knowledge—a trait he had inherited from his father. Although, there was also the fact that Izuku was more inherently knowledgeable than most kids his age. He was also… cold. Not as emotionally open as the others, which didn’t help with his reputation.

It made Inko wonder if he was a Sociopath, or if he was simply anti-social. “Another thing I should probably get him checked for…” There was also another thing she would have to do. She had to get into contact with her family, somehow, and see if their family had any history of blood-related regeneration Quirks.

She knew it would be difficult, but she had to know if this came from her side, or if this came from Hisashi. If it did come from Hisashi, then she had even more reason to not want to have anything to do with him.

Looking toward the documentary, it was about the medical properties of plants. Specifically, the episode had been about The Blue Spider Lily, a plant with the perceived supernatural ability to grant intense genetic healing properties if consumed correctly.

From time to time, as the documentary carried on, Izuku would glance over at Inko then back to the documentary. There was a curiosity in his eyes. After the seventh time he did so, Inko sighed. She had sat next to him for a reason, after all. “Izuku. We need to talk.”

“It’s about my need to consume blood, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Inko replied curtly, her tone serious. “You cannot, for any reason, tell anyone aside from the teachers.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Do you know why, Izuku?”

Izuku didn’t respond, having gone back to staring at the TV. Inko sighed, crossing her arms. “I know you’re being picked on at school, Izuku,” Inko pressed, causing Izuku to freeze, slowly looking over to her, shocked.

“How? I never told you anything.”

“Mothers intuition,” Inko said, turning to fully face Izuku as she put both her hands on his shoulders. “Izuku… It’s not healthy to shut away your feelings, or to keep things from me. Even if you think it will stress me out, or make me worry about you more than I already do, or no matter how dire it may be, I need to know. As your mother, it’s my job to help you.”

Izuku looked down at the couch cushion, embarrassed. “Okay, Mom.”

Inko frowned. “Izuku, I mean it. You can talk to me if something or someone is bothering you.”

“I know.”

Inko’s left eye twitched, inhaling sharply before exhaling. “That means, Izuku, you have to tell me who it is.”

Izuku then looked back up at her, his face devoid of any meaningful expression other than a blank stare, before opening his mouth and saying: “Everyone.”

Inko blinked. “What…?”

“Everyone. Everyone at school. Teachers, students, everyone.” Izuku paused, looking at the ground for a second, before looking back up at Inko. “My teacher, Ms. Kawakami, is the only one who tries. Everyone sees me as a freak. The other staff refuse to step in when Bakugo picks on me. Today, he used his Quirk on me and gave me a nasty bruise. It healed, but still. Other students also pick on me, but Bakugo is the worst.”

Inko stared. She had no words… Katsuki was picking on Izuku? Katsuki used his Quirk on Izuku? Motherly rage began to boil in her blood, and it took everything in her power to not drop everything, call Mitsuki, and berate her for not reigning in her unruly son.

But, Inko was a patient woman. She could wait until tomorrow. That being said, she needed to know more.

“Izuku… How long has this been going on for?”

“Since the beginning of the year.”

And slowly, that patience was starting to wear even thinner. Was Mitsuki dense? Did she know and not do anything about it—No. Mitsuki wasn’t like that. She hated bullies so defending one would be entirely out of character, especially if it was her own son. Inko banked on the fact that Mitsuki didn’t know.

“Do you… want me to handle it?”

“No.”

“What?” Now Inko was confused. “Izuku… Why? All I’d have to do is call Mitsuki and she—”

“Will only make it worse. I would be a snitch and Bakugo would make my treatment ten times worse,” Izuku replied, sighing. “As nice as it would be, I’d much rather put him in his place.”

“What do you mean by that?” Inko asked, confusion lacing her tone as Izuku balled his right hand into a fist.

“When I drank that blood… I felt… slightly stronger than before. Not by a lot, but it gave me an adrenaline rush, and even now, I can tell that my power has increased,” Izuku said, before calmly slamming is hand down on the wooden coffee table in front of them. When he did, a small crack appeared in the table as Inko’s eyes widened. So, he also gained extra strength when he drank blood, on top of it being the only thing he could consume?

But, more importantly….

“Never do that again, Izuku! That table cost me over 100,000 Yen!”

“Sorry!” Izuku apologized, bowing his head as Inko sighed. Nevertheless, it was good to know.

“Now, Izuku. When you mean “put him in his place” I hope you don’t mean you’re going to hurt him,” Inko said as Izuku raised an eyebrow.

“But… he hurts me. Why shouldn’t I respond in the same way?” Izuku asked, tilting his head as Inko smiled.

“Because, Izuku. Two wrongs do not make a right. However, that doesn’t mean you have to endure it. You could simply…. Embarrass him, if you truly want to get back at him. You don’t have to resolve conflicts with violence.”

As Inko said that, Izuku looked over at the TV. For a while, he stared, not saying anything as Inko waited. He was thinking—his eyes gleamed a certain way when he was pulled into deep thought. After five minutes passed, and the documentary went on an ad break, Izuku finally responded.

“Yeah, I suppose that could work.”

Inko let out a sigh of relief.

Truth be told, Inko was concerned about Izuku’s mental well being. With how he thought, and with how emotionally distant he seemed to be, Inko was worried that he would become a villain.

But Inko would like to think that she could be a good enough parent to prevent him from heading down that path.

And as the moon shone in the sky, it’s pale blue radiant light casting a shadow down upon the apartment building that the Midoriya family resided in, a haunting chill over took the night.

Whether Inko knew it or not, fate had different plans for the happy family of two.

A storm was approaching.

It would not be a literal storm.

It would not take the form of lightning or thunder.

It would take the form of something else.

Something small.

Something seemingly benign, but in reality, was the exact opposite.

It would not be a physical thing, either. Merely, it would be an idea.

What that idea was, however, would not be important for a long time.

And before either of them knew it, six years passed in the blink of an eye.

[Ending Song: Last Dance – By: Eve]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: UNDEAD – By: Yoasobi]

[Volume 1 – Chapter 4: Izuku’s Ordinary Life]

Time was a fickle thing. Ever marching forward to the beat of the eternal drum, never stopping for anyone or anything. A stalwart soldier, obeying its sole command to keep moving.

For that reason alone, Izuku often wondered what would happen if one day, time stood still. What would happen? Would anyone know if time had stopped? What if it stopped right now? Would he even know if it happened? Most likely, the answer to that question was no.

Sitting at his desk, staring down at his completed English test, Izuku frowned. It was too easy. Then again, perhaps that was his own fault for being too smart. Compared to everyone else at Aldera Junior High, he was considered as intelligent as someone in their first year of College.

It made a lot of people in his class jealous.

Not that Izuku particularly cared on how they thought. If they wanted to be jealous, then that was on them for not studying.

He looked around the classroom. Izuku sat in the fourth row near the back, specifically in the middle of the row on the right side of the classroom nearer to the windows. Everyone else still had their heads down, struggling to complete their work.

Even Bakugo, who was in front of him in the third row, was struggling, grunting and cursing. English was never his strong suit. It wasn’t must of a shock. Despite being the pinnacle in all of the school, even Bakugo had his faults and issues; discounting his personality, of course.

Izuku picked up his test paper, and approached the teachers desk with it in hand. The teacher looked up at him as he approached, and for a second, he saw the man shudder. That was to be expected. One look at Izuku would give anyone that impression.

Izuku was… odd.

While he wasn’t exactly the most bizarre looking, he reached that perfect blend between “normal” and bizarre. For someone of Japanese descent, Izuku was eerily pale, as if any prolonged exposure to the sun would cause him to burn up in an instant. His eyes, open, wide, and his pupils pointed and sharp with a menacing crimson red colour.

Despite being dressed in the typical Aldera Junior High uniform—A black button-up blazer, matching black pants and shoes—it still didn’t give him the appearance of a school boy. Rather, to those who viewed him, he looked like a horror monster disguising himself as a school boy.

Most school boys smiled.

Izuku never smiled.

Most humans blinked frequently.

Izuku rarely blinked.

Most people brought food to places that didn’t serve it.

Izuku didn’t even eat, as far as the rest of his class was concerned.

Izuku Midoriya was odd.

Despite all of those oddities, Izuku behaved like a regular person. Izuku was polite, and no matter how he was treated, he either ignored said treatment and carried on with his life, or politely requested it to stop. He never went out of his way to be violent, and despite his freakish appearance bordering on the uncanny valley, he never acted like what was expected of him.

“I’m finished the test, Mr. Adachi.”

The teacher gulped, taking the test away from Izuku and placed it in the “completed” bin. Izuku’s eyes glanced over at the time. 3:10 pm. Glancing back, Mr. Adachi nodded, taking the silent question and nodding.

Without so much as a word, Izuku walked back to his desk, gathered his pencil and pencil box, before making his way out of the classroom.

Izuku Midoriya was not normal.

He was more robotic than human. His ghoulishly calm demeanour. His emotionless voice. His far too rigid stature. His maturity being more than most adults….

Izuku was expected to act more like a child.

But, the problem with that was that Izuku didn’t feel like a child.

He wasn’t “childlike”, and he never had been. Even when Izuku was six years old—which was six years ago, making him twelve now—he had felt double his age. Even moreso now. He didn’t feel like he belonged, and it reflected in his test scores.

He aced everything.

He had top marks in his academics, in physical education, and even in the very few extracurricular activities like art he was compared to some of Japan’s famous artist from era’s past, especially with the particular “Otaku/Anime” style of drawing he and most others favored.

Izuku had even started his own Manga that updated weekly. It was a Shojo romance Manga about two girls who had been pining for one another, but had no idea how to express themselves, and wound up inadvertently in a love square with the two male leads, who had feelings for each others girl, and it sort of devolved from there.

It was ironic, because Izuku didn’t have romantical feelings, and yet his Manga, of which had started publication when he was ten, had consistently hit the top 20 rankings in its particular category.

The best part—at least to him anyway—was that no one knew it was him aside from his publisher, as he went by the pseudonym Michikatsu Tsugikuni. As for why he picked that alias, he didn’t exactly know. It simply sounded familiar and that had been the end of that.

Walking down the halls of his school, hands in his pockets, his messy bush-like hair swaying back and forth as he walked, he began to plan out what he was going to do when he got home. Studying first came to mind; his mother wasn’t going to be home for a few hours due to her increasingly demanding work schedule.

His poor mother… He hated seeing her overworked as much as she was.

He had heard there were ways for him to gain some extra money online. He knew where to look, too. It wouldn’t be too difficult for him to acquire some money.

“That can wait,” Izuku thought as he came to his destination—the front of the school. It was there where all the lockers were, split into six rows, with said lockers being split into two. Izuku’s was the first one near the entrance in the fifth row, on the top portion. Inputting his combination, he unlocked the miniature locker, put away his pencil kit and adjusted his school books, before closing the locker and snapping the lock shut.

Over by the entrance, there was a shoe cubby. His shoes were near the front, and after slipping off his school shoes, he put on his pair of home shoes just as the bell rung.

The reason as to why he liked getting a head start was so that he could avoid the drama that came after school dismissal. Being the top student in the entire school allowed him to get away with it, and he abused it to his advantage.

Stepping out of the building and down the small flight of stairs, Izuku walked into the bright morning sun. He shielded his eyes with the back of his hand, avoiding the suns harmful UV rays as he looked into the sky. It was cloudy, with clouds appearing grey. That meant that rain was a high possibility later.

“Midoriya! Wait up!”

Izuku paused midstride as he looked over his shoulder, before straightening his posture and turning back to face the entrance.

Izuku Midoriya was many things.

He was odd.

He was an anomaly compared to most of the other students.

He didn’t fit the mould assigned to him.

He was an outcast.

But the one thing that Izuku wasn’t, was a loner.

A girl around his age jogged toward him, long, flowing black hair trailing after her. Amber eyes with similar irises to his met his gaze as a devious smile ensnared her visage. Cat ears sat atop her head as a black tail bobbed in the wind. The girl was dressed in the female variant of Aldera Junior High's school uniform; it consisted of the same thing as the boys, swapping out the pants for a thigh-length skirt and black stockings.

Before Izuku could say anything, the girls tail snapped out toward him, wrapping around his waist and pulling him into an embrace that he had not expected, though in hindsight he really should have.

The girl squeezed, her arms wrapping tight around his body as he heard her giggle to herself. Izuku frowned. He was never a fan of physical contact. The only person who could get away with it was his mother, Inko, and… well, the girl currently squeezing him like a clingy girlfriend.

Which, for the record, they were not a couple. He had no interest in such things. The girl in question just so happened to be a very clingy person. Much to his dismay.

“Please, let me go.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Nakime…”

“Gotta say the magic word~!”

“I’m not saying it.”

“Say it~!”

“No.”

“Then I’m not letting go~!”

Izuku sighed. He didn’t want to do this, but, he supposed he was left with no other choice. He was able to get his left arm free, something that Nakime hadn’t noticed, as Izuku’s hand reached up to the top of her head.

Knowing full well the effect his next action was about to have, a small mischievous smirk took up his visage, and then…. He began to scratch behind the left cat ear on her head.

The second that he did that, Nakime tensed, her face flushed red as involuntary purr fell out of her lips. As he scratched, Nakime practically melted into him, purring like a domesticated cat, as if lost in the sensation.

Izuku had to hold himself still so as not to fall on the pavement. Finally, after a few seconds on continuously scratching behind her car ear, Izuku stopped, stepped back, and caught Nakime just as she begun to fall.

“You’re a jerk…”

“I asked you to stop. You didn’t. I simply responded as I said I would.”

“You’re still a jerk….”

“I know.”

“Good. Meanie.”

Nakime Natsumi. Her Quirk was called: Cat. It gave her the appearance of, and abilities of, a cat girl from those weird pre- Quirk era visual novels that he had heard some of his classmates talk about called Nekopara, and he had heard some of her classmates call her “Para-Chan” in reference to it, which made her extremely uncomfortable.

Curiosity got the best of him, and he decided to look into “Nekopara” thinking it to be nothing more than a wholesome game about cat girls.

And it was that day that he had learned why it was that Nakime hated the nickname.

Because, upon further research on the matter, he wished he could turn back time and prevent himself from ever seeing that. It was a perverted game about cat girls, a restaurant, and intercourse.

Lots.

Of.

Intercourse.

Why would someone make that? Were people really that weird in the pre-Quirk era? Or, perhaps, it was made by a degenerate? How did the game get funded? Who did the art? Why did it make him feel flustered when he saw it and why did he immediately think about Nakime?

Was it because she had been compared to the characters?

First of all, that was gross. Second of all, he had no idea that the human body could act like that—he hoped to whatever God or Gods that were out there that it was all a cruel joke because seriously, why was it still allowed to be purchased. He knew the inner and outer workings of the human body both male and female because he studied biology due to his innate desire to learn.

So, to see it in such a perverse way made him want to puke on several occasions, not because of the acts portrayed, but because of how hyper unrealistic it was and how grotesque it could get at times, because seriously the human body in any of its various forms was not supposed to do any of the things he saw there! Did they do no research on how it worked!? Why!?!

He also learned on that day that no matter how much bleach one used to try and clean one’s eyeballs, it did not take away memories of traumatic things such as what he bore witness to on that late Friday night, and it prompted him to destroy the laptop given to him by his mother, for it was cursed and he refused to touch it ever again. In order to avoid being punished by his mother, he lied and said that someone at school broke it.

Whatever the case was, Izuku didn’t quite know, but he remembered being severely upset at the universe that day, and since then, he had never looked at Google the same way ever again, having viewed it as having betrayed him.

The next day, he reported those students to the headmaster for harassment and sexual harassment sighting the comments, the source of the comments, and the information of what it refers to with Nakime by his side.

Those students had sense been expelled, and blacklisted from the district.

That aside, thanks to her Quirk, Nakime had enhanced stealth, flexibility, sense of smell and hearing, and she could elongate her tail like a lasso. She was also extremely fast, with a top running speed of over 45 kilometers an hour at top speeds, going from 0 to 45 in three minutes. He reasoned that she could get faster if she trained, but due to her lack of a desire to become a hero, she didn’t see the need to.

While they were at the beach over the summer holiday last year, Izuku found out that she also hated being submerged in water of any depth, could not swim, and had nine lives—though he wasn’t sure about that last one, as it had been an assumption on both their ends, and neither of them wanted to find out if it was true.

Nakime was like the little sister that Izuku never had. She was kind, dotting, and protective of him despite the fact that it wasn’t necessary. She was loyal to a fault, and defended him from his “bullies” as she would refer to them.

Personally, he referred to them as pathetic whelps with no destined future. Though, he supposed it was a bit of a mouthful, so “bullies” worked just fine.

“Okay, can you let go now.”

“Say it.”

“Wow, she’s stubborn today,” Izuku thought, sighing. “Fine. Hello, kitten, how are you?” Izuku shuddered from cringe the second those words came out of his mouth. Nakime snickered to herself, letting go of Izuku. It was only at that moment that he realized he had garnered an audience of people, all of whom staring at them as if it was weird.

Which, to be fair, it was.

As soon as Izuku looked around at the gathering crowd, they all turned and began to move in the opposite direction of him. It was both a blessing and a curse to be dubbed “the creep” of a Aldera Junior High. People wanted to judge, but the moment you gave them an ounce of attention, they want nothing to do with you.

“I love it when you call me that. Makes you look like a dork,” Nakime said, covering her lips with the tips of her fingers, a teasing gleam in her eyes as Izuku turned around, continuing toward the gates of the school.

“We’re going to be late to the train if you keep this up.”

“Ah, shoot! Chihiro is gonna be mad at me if I’m late!” Nakime exclaimed as she bolted for the gates. Izuku smiled, watching her leave. Shaking his head, Izuku followed after her, attempting to match her pace, treating it like a race of sorts.

Even if Izuku was a tad on the anti-social side, Nakime had been one of the increasingly few people who didn’t mind being around him. Of course, there were a few other people, but they were from different schools.

He wondered how they were doing? He knew that they struggled with their own set of issues, too. He just hoped they hadn’t gone off the deep end yet. One of his friends, who was two years older than him, was already dangerously close to snapping, though.

Hopefully, she’d turn out alright. He brought her diet samples of his blood bags every time he went to talk to her. Seeing her smile made him smile, so that was all that mattered. Apparently, she had a crush on a boy named Saito, although Saito seemingly had no interest in his friend.

Whatever the case was, he just hoped that nothing bad happened to her.

By the time the two made it to the train station, their little race ended in a tie, though Nakime was left out of breath, meanwhile Izuku was doing just fine. Nakime leaned over, catching her breath as her tail drooped, as did her cat ears.

“Damn Izuku…. You’re getting faster by the day!” Nakime said through laboured breathing as Izuku shrugged.

“What can I say? I’m just built different,” Izuku joked. Nakime wheezed.

“There is no way you just said that,” Nakime barked, laughing like a lunatic as Izuku felt a streak of pride surge through him. The cackling came to an end as they entered the train station proper, finding the line that would take them both to their desired location. Boarding the train and sitting next to one another, Nakime pulled out her phone, scrolling through Chirper—a truly repugnant website in Izuku’s opinion.

Izuku was never really that big of a fan of social platforms, like Chirper, Clapchat, FaceScroll, Nanogram, or StrifeCord. He never understood why people didn’t just, go outside and speak to others like regular people. Though, he saw the convenience of being able to talk to anyone, anywhere, across the globe. Still, he much preferred to speak in person.

“Oh my god! Izuku, did you see the leaks for next weeks chapter of I Really, Really Love Sakura-chan?! I can’t believe Miyuri and Sakura kissed~! Ah! Finally~!” Natsumi exclaimed as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of Izuku’s face.

“Are you kidding me? I thought Fuyuki-san told me she patched the leakers… Damnit,” Izuku thought, frustration evident with his right eye twitching slightly. “I see…”

“Oh c’mon! Can’t you see you exciting this is! I mean, it was an accident and completely not on purpose, but still! Finally, 80 chapters in and we finally get something! Ha! Take that MiYatsu shippers!”

“Wait, people ship Miyuri with her teacher!? What the hell!?” It was awkward enough to find out that Nakime was a fan of his Manga, but to find out that the fanbase surrounding it was shipping a child and an adult…? “I hate people…”

“Is that… a popular ship?” Izuku asked as Nakime turned to face him.

“Oh. My. God~! Do you read I Really, Really Love Sakura-chan too?!”

“Um… Kinda?”

Nakime squealed with excitement as the train came to a stop. The announcer came on the speaker and said that the stop was the one that Izuku and Nakime were looking to get off at. Exiting the train with their stuff, making their way out of the station as Nakime blabbered on and on about what her favourite ship was—the main couple pairing that Izuku was intending to canonize once the story got to chapter 180, assuming that MangaJump kept publishing him, of course—to all the reasons why MiKoshi and JunKura Shippers were the spawn of Satan…

By the time they made it to the apartment complex that Izuku lived in, Nakime finally finished her rant, sighing as she did. “That’s why I ship MiKura, because, I mean, they’re obviously going to get together. Please tell me you think I’m right.”

“Yup…” Izuku said dryly. “She must never know I’m the Mangaka,” Izuku thought to himself, keeping a mask of tranquility over his slowly furthering frustration.

“Good!” As Nakime said that, she gave Izuku one final hug, before turning to leave. “Alright, well, gotta go. Chihiro is gonna yell at me if I’m late. See ya, Midori!”

Izuku watched as Nakime ran off in the direction toward her house, which was a twenty minute walk from his apartment complex. Turning toward it, Izuku sighed. “I should be expecting about… I think 30,000 from MangaJump tonight for this weeks chapter. I could use that for a better suit…” As Izuku thought that, he reached his apartment, grabbed the key under the mat, entered the apartment, closed and locked the door behind him, put his backpack on the hanger where he always left it, then made a bee-line straight to his room.

Izuku Midoriya was many things.

He was a student.

He was a good, if not sometimes odd behaving son.

He was a smart, intelligent individual trying to make his way through an often times confusing life.

But, as Izuku walked into his bedroom, and opened up his closet, he smirked. Pulling out a pale blue Oni mask tucked within the recesses of his bedroom closet, alongside a box. Upon opening the box was a black yukata with various floral patterns. A smile took up his visage. Quickly getting changed into the outfit, Izuku dug deeper into the box.

Within was a simple Tanto that he strapped to his waist, alongside a pair of elbow-length white gloves. Walking over to the bathroom, Izuku took a brush to his hair after wetting it to straighten out the curls, before quickly doing his hair up into a chignon—as quickly as one could do that, anyway. Once it was all said and done, he slipped on the mask, opened his window, and herculean physical strength, leapt from his window, into the air, and across the street to atop the roof of a nearby building.

As the sun stretched out into dawn, the clouds turning their milky orangish colour to match the sky, underneath his mask, Izuku smiled.

By day, Izuku Midoriya was a regular student.

By dusk till dawn, however, Izuku Midoriya was not Izuku Midoriya.

He became The Moonscent, an infamous Vigilante who struck fear into villains all across Japan.

And tonight? He had one particular city that he had heard buzz about not too long ago. A city steeped in villainy, and ripe for the picking.

Naruhata .

[-Ending Song: Last Dance – By: Eve-]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: UNDEAD – By: Yoasobi]

[Volume 1 – Chapter 5: Pathological Façade]

Heroes.

The concept of them sounded childish. Big, strong, powerful individuals who's sole goal was to protect the innocent and nothing more. Pure idealism that ignored the complex reality of humanity. So, instead of directly addressing it, they brandished smiles, spewed slogans, and developed brands in order to keep up the guise.

Everywhere you looked, there was always something talking about heroes.

Heroes this, heroes that.

If one wasn't born into a society had been so hero obsessed, that individual would lose their ever-loving mind. Government churned out slop meant to do the job that many generations ago would've been handled by the police.

But sometimes, the big wig heroes like All Might, Endeavour, Best Jeanist, Crust, and Wash couldn't help due to either being busy or by simply way of not being on duty—of course there were other heroes besides the ones that had been listed, but they would take too long to list.

So, when the big name Heroes weren't around to help the everyday populous, a different kind of hero would take a step into the limelight—even if they weren't chosen by the government for that kind of thing. Even if their version of heroism wasn't exactly the same kind that was taught.

They were "heroes". Just the illegal kind of heroes. Which, while sounding oxymoronic, was true.

The "heroes" of Naruhata City, weren't really heroes at all. They were vigilantes—illegal heroes, labelled as villains due to their activities being, well, illegal.

But that never stopped them. After all, having a fancy license and being given permission to do the right thing was antithetical.

Of course, there were times where that label was misapplied to those who were villains, who simply used the guise of being a vigilante to do their nefarious things. Which made distinguishing vigilantes and villains harder and harder by the day.

Izuku wasn't particularly bothered by being labelled a villain. While Izuku had never killed someone before—truly, he didn't want to, but if he was forced to make a choice, he would—he had seen articles labeling Moonscent a villain.

It made sense. Vigilantes and villains were seen in the same light by the public. Only on very few occasions is a distinction made.

Vigilantes also worked in groups. Typically, anyway. There was one particular group known as The Naruhata Vigilantes that Izuku had done some research on, and had found that they, along with the help of Eraserhead, took down a massive villain with multiple arms handing out trigger to the populous.

But what was Trigger? Well, Trigger was a Quirk-Enhancing Drug. It did exactly as it said on the tin: Enhanced Quirks. However, depending on the variant, it could have multiple different side effects. One of those side effects was loosing ones sense of reason, and also lessening the blood-flow in an individuals body.

Over-doses on Trigger happen by the thousands every day across the world; which sounds like a lot—and it was—but in comparison to the global 15 Billion Human population, it wasn't all that much.

While stopping the flow of Trigger wasn't on Izuku's to-do list for tonight, it was something he always tried to keep an eye out for.

No, his real reason for being in Naruhata was because he was hunting down a fellow Vigilante. Someone who was going by the name of Stendhal. His reason for hunting down Stendhal was because of his tendency to kill the villains he faced. While it was typically a trait that Izuku didn't care much to hyperfocus on, Stendhal killed any villain, even those who were simply robbing a store for food.

That, to Izuku, was unacceptable.

Yes, killing villains who want to harm those for the sake of doing so, Izuku viewed as normal. Even if society at large disavowed heroes doing it, that's what vigilantes were for. To help the public in less than legal ways, without breaking the major laws.

But Stendhal… Stendhal was something else.

Stendhal killed for the sake of killing. He was no better than your average serial killer, and Izuku was not a fan of that.

To use the title of vigilante to simply kill those who didn't follow the law to a T was beyond unforgivable. In Izuku's eyes, Stendhal was nothing more than a villain—a true example of someone who the public and police at large would make as the perfect example.

Standing atop one of the many high-rises within Naruhata, Izuku stood, hands covered by the larger sleeves of his Yukata. The evening chill had finally come to embrace the villain encrusted city with building lights shining to make up for the lack of natural sunlight. It was times like these that Izuku was glad that he had night vision due to his Quirk.

Izuku Midoriya's Quirk. A topic that a lot of people, primarily his classmates, had a vested interest in, primarily because it was all over the place. Regeneration, Night vision, enhanced reflexes, increased physical strength, speed, and durability—all of it powered by the consumption of blood, never to dwindle, although his classmates weren't aware of that part.

That was why Izuku had opted to call his Quirk: Blood Boost. At least, on paper. For those who didn't read his documents, his Quirk and its nature were purposely vague. After all, his mother told him to keep it a secret, especially due to how stigmatized blood-related Quirks were.

While Izuku never really cared much for being a hero, it wasn't because he believed that heroism itself was bad. More rather, it was because he viewed the system as flawed. Looking out into the city proved that point. Most heroes were dubbed "Lime Light Heroes", meaning they only worked during the day.

They were fakes.

False heroes who refused to do any of the dirty work, only doing it when they knew people would be watching. Meanwhile, at night, people suffered.

Granted, not all of them were fakes. Heroes like The Wild Wild Pussycats were normal. So was Team Idaten, and various others that Izuku didn't care to mention. But there were also a lot of fakes. He counted Endeavour as one of those fakes, but Izuku was nowhere near the level of power to even stand a chance against someone like Endeavour.

Tangent aside, as Izuku overlooked Naruhata, a sigh escaped his lips. Tonight seemed relatively calm.

"Now, where is my contact? I thought that I had—"

"Yo! Moonscent!" A voice, high pitched, called out as Izuku sighed. Looking over his shoulder, he was met with a rather interesting looking individual. They were a girl, just a little older than himself. Over her eyes was a black mask, painted on, and her hair was tied up in a pair of puffy pig-tails. She was dressed in a devilish black and pink themed one-piece leotard alongside a black super mini-skirt, with a tiny heart shaped opening in the center of its chest, and a smaller one located on the small of her back, above which were two tiny bat wings.

She also wore a reddish-pink bow tie around her neck, a pair of silver pearl earrings, black elbow-length gloves, and on the belt portion of the super mini-skirt were three hearts that sat in the center. Alongside that, also wore a pair of black knee-high boots, and to complete her get-up, she had pink lipstick on to match her hair.

"Hello," Izuku began, turning to face the girl, who had a smile on her face. "Pop Step, correct?"

"Yup~! Gotta admit, when I was contacted by someone claiming to be the Moonscent, I didn't believe it—you're kinda a legend here, ya know?" Pop Step began as Izuku blinked.

"A legend?"

"Uh-huh!" A cheeky grin took up her visage, "personally, I don't see it. I mean, from what is known about you, you're just a kid, right?"

"So are you," Izuku retorted, prompting Pop Step to pout.

"Lies!"

"I saw you at school the other day," Izuku stated as Pop Step blinked.

"Eh? W-Wait, wha—"

"Pink hair, blue eyes—except your eyes are pink right now, my guess is due to contacts, and you're voice is the exact same," Izuku noted, a small smirk behind his mask as Pop Step's shoulders sagged.

"Darn…" Pop Step huffed, before blinking, realization gleaming in her eyes. "Wait, oh my God I go to school with the Moonscent!" Pop Step practically squeeled—Why? Was Izuku really that popular as Moonscent?

As Moonscent, he had been responsible for capturing upwards to ten villains, over two dozen thugs, and prevented several robberies across Japan. He had started when he was only ten years old—around the same time he began his Manga—so he had assumed that while he gained some street credit, he didn't exactly think he'd be known in Naruhata.

"I don't understand. Why are you excited about meeting me? I only contacted you because I heard you knew your way around Naruhata. I wasn't even expecting you to be someone from my school—I simply recognized you due to your hair," Izuku said as Pop Step brushed the comment off.

"Forget about me for a second—wait, actually don't forget, I, grrr! Nevermind," Pop Step said, clearly frustrated. "I didn't know you were this dull!"

"Dull?"

"And dense, apparently!" Pop Step pointed out, jabbing him lightly with her pointer finger. "You've got motion, dude! People respect the hell out of you here. Even mentioning your name causes some of the regular crooks to freeze up! You've got a tanto, right? I've heard rumours you've cut out someone's throat with it once!" Pop Step said, miming a thin line across her neck as Izuku recoiled.

"No. I've never killed, and I don't plan to."

"Phew, that's a relief," Pop Step murmured. "Whelp, I'd give you a tour, but I've got one of my shows to go do! If you want, I can take ya there," Pop Step said, a twinkle in her eyes as Izuku frowned underneath his mask.

"Naïve, fame obsessed, and annoying. My least favourite combo," Izuku thought, frowning. "No thanks. I'm not a fan of pop music." With that, Izuku turned and leapt off the roof of the building. Pop Step, both shocked and a little mortified, ran to the edge of the roof. She looked down below, and saw Moonscent as fit as a fiddle. No injuries or anything.

A sigh of relief followed suit—the last thing she wanted to witness was someone killing themselves, doubly so just before a show. As Moonscent ran off into the night, Pop Step had to wonder what exactly it was that he had wanted. One simply didn't contact her out of nowhere just to ask for a tour. There had to have been another reason.

Or, maybe she was just over thinking things.

Although, she had to wonder, how did Moonscent get her contact information? Did he guess? Or did someone else hand it over to him?

Confusion quickly took over her thoughts as she scratched the side of her head. It didn't make a lick of sense. "Oh well, he's just a kid, so it doesn't really matter. Although, I should probably make sure my phone isn't tapped…"

Leaping off elsewhere, Pop Step hummed to herself. Going from building to building, she couldn't help but get the feeling that someone was off about Moonscent. She didn't know what it was, but just being near him gave her the shivers.

"I should probably let the geezer and Crawler know… I don't know why, but I get the feeling that we'll run into him again…"

[XXXX]

"C'mon, just give us what we want, damnit!" A bulky looking man snarled, staring down a young woman who looked to be in her twenties. She had dark brown hair, matching brown eyes and cream coloured skin. She was dressed in a white shirt and black leggings—just casual attire, and nothing more. She had just left home to get groceries and a few things for her boss. Just her luck to get ambushed by a drunkard…

"I don't have what you want!" The woman snapped back, sneering as the burly man scowled.

"Oh, but ya do, little lady. But you do, hehehe…" The burly man spat, reaching out to grab the woman by the neck. The woman recoiled and was about to reach into her back pocket for some pepper spray, when suddenly, without warning, a hand grabbed the burly man's wrist, preventing it from moving as the burly, drunken man grumbled in confusion.

"Excuse me…" A calm, yet young sounding voice spoke out, as the woman looked to her right and saw quite the peculiar sight. The person in question was small—probably only standing around four feet tall, wearing a pale blue Oni mask with their hair done up in chignon. They also wore a black yukata with various floral patterns, and were seemingly wearing white gloves. On their hip was what appeared to be a sheath for a tanto, and from the looks of things, they seemed very restrained. "I believe that lady told you to leave her alone, did she not?"

"Let go of me, ya little shit," the burly drunken man growled, trying to yank his hand out of the individuals grip, but it didn't budge. "Eh?"

"That is quite rude. Perhaps you would like to try again?"

"I said, let got of me, ya little shit!" The burly drunken man slurred, slinging a punch at the individuals face, only for them to tilt their head to the left and completely dodge the punch. They then grabbed the drunken man by the other wrist, and effortlessly flipped him over themselves, the landing being rough enough to make the man gasp and pass out from shock.

"Hmm… Some people just don't have manners. Quite disappointing…" The individual said, before looking over to the woman, their expression covered by their mask. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

"Y-yeah! I'm fine. He didn't touch me or anything like that. I was actually gonna spray him with some pepper spray before you came along!" The woman said as the individual hummed.

"I see. Tell me, what is your name?"

"Tsukauchi Makoto! A pleasure to meet you…?"

"Moonscent. You may call me Moonscent."

"Ah, I've never heard of a hero going by that name," Makoto said, tapping her chin as Moonscent chuckled.

"That's because I am not a hero. I am a vigilante," Moonscent replied as Makoto did a double take.

"You're a vigilante! Oh, that makes more sense! Although… aren't you a little young to be running around like that?"

"Perhaps to some, but I've managed this much for over two years. I'm perfectly fine," Moonscent replied, dusting themselves off. "Before I let you go, however, I have to ask. Have you heard of anyone going by the name of Stendhal?"

"Sorry, kiddo. I don't anything about anyone going by that name," Makoto replied, bowing her head as Moonscent sighed, seemingly disappointed.

"Very well. I understand. Have a safe night," and with, Moonscent leapt away up to a nearby rooftop. Makoto had to admit, for someone seemingly so young, they had quite a lot of power if they were able to leap from the street to the roof of a ten story tall building. Although, she had to wonder what parent would allow their child to run around dressed up as a vigilante….

Then again, they were probably unaware of such activities.

"Eh, nothing for me to worry about. Now, what was it that Captain wanted…?"

[XXXX]

"Moonscent's here?" Knuckleduster grumbled, seemingly annoyed. "Great. Another psycho…"

Knuckleduster; what was there to say about him. He was a tall, extremely muscular man, with a bodybuilder physique. He was dressed in a long hunter green trenchcoat with a simple wrap around black mask. Underneath the trenchcoat, he wore a tight-fitting black muscle shirt and a pair of khaki jeans, black boots, black gloves, and a pair silver knuckledusters—hence the codename.

"He seemed fine to me," Pop Step said as Knuckleduster scoffed.

"Yeah, up until he tries to stab ya with that tanto of his for thinkin' yer a thug who wants to beat up on people." Knuckleduster grumbled, rolling his shoulder. "Guys got a few screws loose—pretty sure he's a kid, too, which ain't a good thing," Knuckleduster said, crossing his arms. "I've fought him once, too. He's slippery. Fast, too. We're about even playing field in that regard, but I'm physically stronger."

"Wait, you've fought this Moonscent guy?" A boy with short black, dressed in an All Might hoodie with biker protective gear on his arms and legs, alongside a pair of red lace-up sneakers, asked, tiling his head with confusion written all over his face. "Who even is he?"

Currently, the group of three were stationed in a nearby alleyway, with Pop Step and the boy standing next to one another, whereas Knuckleduster stood across from them. They were taking a bit of a breather from their patrol around Naruhata when Pop Step showed up and mentioned she had news about the contact, mentioning who it was.

He had never seen Knuckleduster's expression twist to annoyance like that before. "Whoever this Moonscent guy, Master doesn't seem to like him much… Wonder why? Is it really just because he ran away from a fight?" The boy thought as Knuckleduster huffed.

"No one knows. He showed up two years ago, started kicking ass and taking names, and declared that he was going to clean up the streets of Japan online. Sounds like he's way over his head, if ya ask me—a good idea, but not enough power to do it. Met a lot of people who were like him, and all of 'em ended up being deranged or die young. Sad to see, honestly," Knuckleduster said, huffing. "But, if he's here, he's gotta have a reason."

"What kind of reason? Like, the bad kind?" Pop Step asked, a hint of concern in her voice as Knuckleduster frowned.

"Dunno. But wherever he goes, there tends to be bloodshed. While he hasn't killed people before, at least as far as the public is aware, he isn't exactly reluctant to use his tanto to fight. Coupled with his strength, speed, and reflexes, he's not a fun guy to fight. So, if ya encounter him, do so with caution, and only engage if I'm nearby. Don't want you kids to get hurt, 'cause he doesn't discriminate," Knuckleduster commanded, his tone leaving no room for an argument.

"But, if he's a kid, wouldn't it be easy to just knock him down and tie him up?" The boy asked, scratching the back of his neck underneath the hood as Knuckleduster shook his head.

"Don't underestimate people just 'cause their young, Koichi. That's how you get killed. If there's one thing that I learned in this type of business, it's that kids are cruel. Especially ones who think themselves unbeatable," Knuckleduster stated, his tone serious. "Now then, you two can go back out if you want. I've got some business to take care of. Just don't get too in over yer heads, kay?"

"Gotcha!" Both Pop Step and Koichi exclaimed.

Koichi had to admit that being a vigilante, while stressful, was fun. He had a hobby, a few new friends, and life was starting to look up for him.

But little did he know, that tonight, things were going to take a drastic shift for the worse….

[XXXX]

"ACK!" A strangled voice cried out as a lean man with spikes coming out of his back fell to the ground, blood dripping down his nose as a bruise began to form. Izuku had to admit, out of the two people he had to deal with today, this guy was the most annoying.

Behind him, there were several spikes that were shot out at the wall, cracking the brick work. Had any of those hit Izuku, it would've ruined his Yukata—and it cost him quite a lot of money to get, so if it got damaged in any way, he wouldn't be a happy camper.

Izuku looked down at the spiked man, the man's tongue lulling out from the side of his mouth. It was tipped black. "Trigger. That explains the spikes…" Izuku thought, frowning under his mask. Izuku stared at the tongue, scowling. "Scoundrel," as Izuku said that, he went to reach for his tanto, but stopped. "No… Don't do that. Severing the tongue would cause a fatal bleed out. Just because he threatened to damage my yukata doesn't mean I have the right to kill him…"

That was one of Izuku's major problems. His lack of inhibition toward killing others, especially when he was out at night as Moonscent.

He didn't know why, but there was something about hunting people that made him want to kill—like an instinct that was getting harder and harder to ignore by the day. Especially when it came to those who did misdeeds.

Looking over his shoulder, he glanced at the unconscious man behind him—the spiked-man's victim. He wasn't dead, but he was injured. Reaching into the pocket he had stitched into the interior of the yukata, Izuku dialed 119 and reported the two unconscious individuals, gave the address of the neighbouring building, and specified the left alleyway, before hanging up and leaving.

He had to admit. Most nights weren't this active. Typically, in any other city, he wouldn't have to worry about several villains showing up in a night. But Naruhata was different. "Well, I guess it wasn't called The City of Villains for no reason."

As he leapt from building to building, Izuku caught a glimpse of something in the distance. It was a fight between a massive, rocky-looking villain, and some guy wearing an All Might-themed hoodie. The man was dodging from place to place, narrowing avoiding getting hit several times.

"He's losing…" Izuku thought, as he looked over to the sidelines. Pop Step was also there. "Are they a team?" Izuku narrowed his eyes as the crawling, sliding guy got caught in a pot-hole, and was seconds away from getting pummeled into the dirt, when suddenly, a man with a blue-tinted katana showed up, blocking the punch and protecting the other man.

His hair was styled in a ponytail, and he wore a red mask over his face. He was dressed in a red and black tracksuit, with a bullet proof vest over his chest, alongside bullet proof knee-pads and elbow pads. Attached to the front of his vest were six switchblades, three on the left side and three on the right.

As soon as he came into view, Izuku instantly recognized who he was.

"Stendhal… I've finally found you," Izuku thought, sneering underneath his mask. However, looking at his current situation, with there being multiple people, and two of which who would back him up if he needed it… "And it happens to be in a very precarious situation for me if I were to engage…" Izuku thought, landing just near the scene of the action, and from this distance, he could hear just about everything, deciding t o observe for now.

Down at a parking lot where the battle was taking place, Stendhal had to admit, of all the places to witness a villain attack, a basketball court was not the first thing that came to mind. But then again, most villains tended not to care where they attacked.

Which was precisely why he utterly loathed all forms of villainy.

It was why all villains would one day learn to fear the bite of his blade.

However, his main reason for engaging the villain wasn't because of the villain. No, more rather, it was because someone needed to be protected—fellow meddler, much like himself. The way he saw it, anyone who willingly went out of their way, license or no, to protect the citizens of Japan was a true hero in his eyes.

Therefore, it only made sense to aid his fellow cohorts in case they needed aid. He would except the same from them, too, should the need arise.

"Quite tough, aren't you?" Stendhal mused, switching his stances with his blade as he set himself into a wider stance, his muscles seeming to bulge slightly, before he unleashed several slashing attacks toward the rock-skinned man in various angles, from left, to right, to up, and horizontal up to eight times, in the same repeating pattern. "Blood Breathing – First Form: Hack n' Slash." Stendhal calmly announced, overwhelming the villain.

The blade cut through the first layer of rocky, catching the villain off guard. "Grah!" The Villain exclaimed, as Stendhal continued his advance, never once letting up. He reached for two of his switch blades, clasping them between his pointer, middle, index, and pinky fingers, forcing the blades out, before throwing them toward the villains face.

The blades lodged themselves into his his exposed cheeks, although the villain effortlessly knocked them out, snarling before lunging at Stendhal. Stendhal, for his part, side-stepped the charge, glancing over his shoulder. "The boy!" Stendhal thought, only for his worries to be alleviated, seeing as he was nowhere to be seen…

Primarily because he had gotten underneath the villain, ramming into his legs hard enough to make him trip. However, just before Stendhal could strike down the villain, the sound of sirens echoed out.

"It's the cops!" A pink-haired girl called out as Stendhal sheathed his blade. How unfortunate. The villain took that as his queue to pick himself up and bolt, further frustrating Stendhal.

"No matter, I'll track him down later…"

"We'd better hightail it outta here, too," The pink-haired girl exclaimed as the boy in the hoodie looked over to Stendhal, rubbing the side of his head as he spoke.

"Um, thanks for the save, there. Who are you, exactly…?"

Stendhal smirked under his mask. "The name's Stendhal, another meddler like you," just as he said that, he leapt away, using one of the nearby signs to get atop an adjacent building. These skills that he had read about from his families old scrolls had come in handy once again. He had been training said skills for well over a decade, and had decided to use them to purge the streets of filth like that villain.

Although, as annoying as it was, finding the materials to restore the blade that was left behind by his ancestors was difficult. Thankfully, he had found some in an antique rock store. Finding the right tools, though, was even harder, and he had nearly given up, had he not run into a blacksmith during his out-of-city travels.

The town he had visited was called Nichibotsu Town, which literally meant Sunset Town. It was a tiny place, with very few homes. Although, it's main tourist location was a blacksmith ran by a man named Kokori, who was said to have lived there with his family for generations, with Kokori being the latest.

When Stendhal had approached him with the blade, the man was positively beaming, saying that "he had been waiting for this day" before taking the blade and the scarlet ore with him. Stendhal had no idea what he meant by that, but whatever the case might've been, the man agreed to repair the katana, and even did so free of charge.

The repairing process took well over a week due to how damaged the blade had been, and he had just barely enough material to fix it, but by the time the blade came back, it was sharper and was of better quality. The material, Scarlet Ore, according to the scrolls his ancestors left behind, was found on Mount Yoko, which was on the southern side of Japan.

"One of these days, I'm going to have to go there if I want repair my katana should it break," Stendhal thought as he leapt from building to building, keeping an eye out for the villain. Just as he landed on another building, he heard a tiny thud from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, Stendhal tilted his head to the left, confusion on his face.

Behind him was a small individual. They were dressed in a black, floral patterned Yukata, with a pale blue Oni-mask covering their face. Their dark green hair was done up in a chignon, and on their hip was a sheath for a tanto. They landed with precision and practiced style, which immediately indicated to Stendhal that they weren't someone to be taken lightly.

"Can I help you?" Stendhal questioned as the individual huffed. Not out of being out of breath, but seemingly out of annoyance.

That could mean either one of two things. They were a meddler like him, or, they were hunting him.

And if they were hunting him, he would make sure they would never live to regret that mistake.

"Stendhal… Killer of Villains, or better yet, notorious Serial Killer. Your Quirk, Blood Curdle allows you to paralyze those who's blood your tongue comes in contact with. You primarily fight using a katana and other bladed weapons. It took me a while to find you, but now that I have, I believe it's time that someone puts an end to your rampage," The individual stated matter-of-factly as Stendhal narrowed his eyes underneath his mask.

"Ah. I see. Yet another person who doesn't understand. Very well. For interrupting my hunt, I shall deliver upon you a quick death," Stendhal said, unsheathing his Katana as the individual unsheathed their tanto.

"Do not misunderstand the situation, Stendhal. It's you who will be dying tonight."

[Ending Song: Last Dance – By: Eve-]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: UNDEAD – By Yoasobi]

[Volume 1 – Chapter 6: Expectations Versus Reality]

Combat was something that Izuku never truly excelled in. This was a facet of life that he simply did not care for, so one might wonder why he decided to become a Vigilante if he wasn't good at fighting.

The answer was quite simple: He wished to be better.

It was not out of arrogance that he desired to get better, either. Rather, his penchant for learning extended to physical education as well, and understanding how to fight would allow him to get a better understanding of how humanity as a whole functioned.

It was one of the many reasons why, when he got the free time to, he watch the recorded battles that heroes got into. It was to study how the human body functioned. How its muscles would bend and contort to get the optimal angle for an attack.

Truly, the human body fascinated Izuku more than anything else.

So, when Stendhal launched an attack at Izuku, an upward slash that cleaved up through his chin all the way out of his frontal cortex, he had to admit that he was frustrated that he didn't see it coming. Stendhal had moved like a blur, and struck even harder than he could've possibly imagined.

It was clear to Izuku that he had gotten way in over his head.

As Stendhal flicked the blood off of his blade and re-sheathed it, Izuku could feel the condescending glare emanating off of him. "Now, die, for your foolish mistake."

As Izuku hit the ground, hitting the cement with a light thud, mulling over his blunder, blinking as his face repaired itself, he was left to figure out how Stendhal moved as fast as he did. Was it pure training, or was it something else?

What was it that made Stendhal so fast? Izuku needed to find out—he desired to know more about him, his curiosity overtaking his common sense. But, before he could get up, he could already hear Stendhal retreating….

No.

He wasn't getting away that easily. Not when Izuku had become interested in knowing more.

Leaping up from his prone stance, before jumping into the air and hovering slightly above Stendhal's head, Izuku delivered a devastating spin-kick to Stendhal, sending him flying down from the roof of the building they were standing atop of down into the streets below, leaving a small crack in the asphalt.

As Stendhal slowly stood up, rubbing the side of his head, confusion quickly filled his mind as he looked around to see who had been responsible for such an attack, only to realize it had been the same individual who he had just cleaved into the face of with his blade.

"What…? But how?" Stendhal thought, confusion giving way to frustration as he stared into the fractured pale blue Oni-mask. Now that he could see underneath the mask, even if it was only slightly, he bore witness to an unnerving looking eye—pointed, glaring, and vacant of any real emotion outside of annoyance and curiosity. As if what Stendhal had done was nothing more than a brief obstacle to him.

It was made even more confusing, when there was the noticeable lack of a wound on the admittedly young-looking individuals face. As if his blade had never struck true.

"If that won't wound him, then perhaps this will," Stendhal thought, cool, calm, and collected. Gripping his katana, Stendhal assumed a more offensive stance, as the individual wordlessly charged forward. Noticeably, his tanto was nowhere to be seen. That meant that he left it on the roof—a rookie mistake, but a mistake that Stendhal planned on capitalizing on.

As the individual cleared the distance between themselves and him, Stendhal lunged forward, using his open stance as an opening. Unsheathing his blade and shrinking the gap in less than a second, Stendhal narrowed his eyes underneath the mask, honing in on his target, before thrusting his blade through the young man's chest twice in rapid succession, puncturing both lungs in the process. "Fifth Form: Pulse Fang."

Blood spewed from the wounds and from Izuku's mouth as he staggered back, clutching his chest whilst the wounds healed. But Stendhal didn't let up. He kept going, not wanting to lose his momentum, performing the same attack he had done on the larger villain from earlier, with eight precise slashing strikes aimed at Izuku body. "First Form: Hack N' Slash!"

The overwhelming series of slashes carved into Izuku's flesh, a hiss reverberating from his lips, blood coating the street as Stendhal kicked Izuku in the stomach, sending him to the ground. Stendhal watched him fall, blood flowing from his wounds as gravity took its course, before he fell onto the road with a sharp thud.

Stendhal stared down at the Yukata-wearing boy, his eyes narrowing under his mask. He watched as the slash wounds began to close up. If he hadn't already believed that the young vigilante had a regeneration Quirk, than this more than proved it.

"That means, given enough time, he'll get back up and start hunting me again…" Stendhal thought, scowling. "But, just because he can, doesn't mean I'll let him."

"Stay down, if you know what's good for you. I haven't the time, nor the want to battle fledgling like you." Stendhal paused, humming. "Your Quirk gives you regenerative capabilities; that's the only explanation for you to still be alive. It is a shame that it is wasted on someone like you."

Stendhal raised his sword in the air, pointed the tip of his blade right where Izuku's heart would be located, before plunging the blade down. Izuku choked, blood spilling out of his mouth as it leaked from under his mask.

Without fanfare, Stendhal removed the blade from the young man's chest, staring down at the body. It no longer moved. Perfectly still, as all dead things should be. He waited one second, then two, and after three seconds passed with no sign of moving, Stendhal relaxed. "Good. One less nuisance to deal with later."

And then, after sheathing his blade, and without bothering to stick around, Stendhal leapt away, using the surrounding signage to boost himself up to the nearby rooftops. He still had a villain that needed killing, after all.

But as he left, he couldn't help but feel… off.

Something was truly wrong about that boy. Something dark, and whatever it was, Stendhal didn't want to encounter it again. Not that he believed he'd have to. After all, he stabbed the boy in the heart, so there was no way he could come back.

Right?

"Of course. What am I thinking? That boy is dead, and better for it. This world… this cruel, hollow world would eat him up and spit him out. That boy lacked true conviction, and so I did him a mercy," Stendhal thought, troubled by his thoughts all the while.

[XXXX]

Knuckleduster, otherwise known as Iwao Oguro, was just having one of those days. His day job's paycheque was late, there were no good villains to fight, and to make matters worse? His daughter was still missing, his wife was still in a coma, and everything just wasn't making for a good day.

Walking down the streets of Naruhata, he was itching for a fight—a good fight, not a crappy one. The only good one he had as of recent was against that large fellow a few days back.

That fight… that was a real fight. He was dreaming of having another fight like that, and hopefully, it was soon.

Granted, he didn't want it to be too soon. He was still trying to get over being rattled by the last big guy—the rock looking dude. He heard that the cops were calling this pop-up villains "Instant Villains" or something to that effect.

It made sense, seeing as how "instant" they'd pop up. Iwao also knew that it was the trigger that was causing it, specifically the variant known as Ideo Trigger. It was a very potent, dangerous kind of trigger that not only enhanced one's Quirk, it blinded their sensibilities, making it difficult for them to think rationally.

He had seen totally perfect and normal lives ruined by it. Much like any other kind of drug, it was insanely addictive. While he had never seen an overdose before, he had heard horror stories from doctors at the hospital his wife was staying at. How the affected individual's Quirk goes haywire, and they have no choice but to kill the person in order to save the lives others.

It was tragic—horrifically so. It was why Iwao hated it so much. He never understood why anybody would use Ideo Trigger, or any kind of Trigger, for that matter. It was dangerous, and at a young age schools warned about its uses and the danger it represented.

"Bah, people are stupid… But the people who sell it even worse. Making victims out of clueless kids or those easily tricked. Worse than scum," Iwao thought, adjusting his mask. His reason for being back on the streets was because he had finished visiting his wife in the hospital, and it had filled him with a sense of frustration that he needed to unleash on some stupid villain.

That was his only reason for being out again.

Although, he also couldn't lie to himself. He was worried about Pop Step and Crawler. They were just kids after all—or, well, Pop Step was. Crawler was basically an adult, but even then, he acted like a kid, so he still counted.

"I wonder how Crawler and Pop Step are doing…. They better not've gotten into any—"

Iwao's train of thought halted as he stopped dead in his tracks. During his time as vigilante, he had seen a lot of messed up, terrible things. He had seen murders, he had seen kidnappings, he had even stopped a couple of in-progress rapes.

But what he saw, sprawled out on the side of the road, while not anything new, had made his blood turn cold.

Rule Number 1 about Iwao: Never hurt children around him—he was a father, for crying out loud, so that was your own funeral if you wanted to be that dumb.

Rule Number 2 about Iwao: If you challenge him to a fight, ya better make sure that you know what you're doing, or you're going to lose a couple of teeth.

And finally; Rule Number 3 about Iwao: If he ever caught the person who attacked, brutalized, or murdered a child, he would find them, and he would kill them.

What he saw in the side of the road was Moonscent, laying in a fool of his own blood. Iwao knew that Moonscent had been a child—no adult that small and a voice that immature would throw themselves into this line of work, that and with every other factor lining up, he had long ago deduced that Moonscent was, at most, a middle schooler.

So, to see Moonscent in a puddle of his own blood was worrisome, and it set off all of his parental instincts.

Without saying a word, Iwao ran over to Moonscent, stopped everything that he was doing, and inspected the young kid without doing too much. He still had a pulse—a faint one, but a pulse. He didn't appear to have any wounds, but the corners of his mouth that were bleeding told him otherwise. His mask was cut, which revealed a very child-like face underneath, which all but confirmed his suspicions.

"Who the fuck would do this to a kid?!" Iwao cursed mentally, picking up Moonscent carefully. His first thought was to take him to the hospital, but that most likely wasn't a good idea. After all, Moonscent was a notorious vigilante, and he was known for wearing that exact mask and yukata.

But, even still… What was more important? The kid surviving? Or his street cred?

The answer was blindingly obvious.

Iwao booked it.

Frankly, he was being stupid—he knew it, but that didn't change a damn thing. Iwao knew some basic first aid, but given that the kid didn't have any external injuries, that meant he probably had internal injuries. Which meant that the only people who could help would be trained professionals.

However, just as he turned the corner, Iwao had to do a double take, before not only was the kid no longer in his arms, but behind him, he heard the sound of feet touching the ground. Sharply looking over his shoulder, Iwao saw Moonscent, standing, cracking his neck from side to side as he wiped at his the sides of his mouth.

"Damnit. I've lost him…" Moonscent grumbled as Iwao scowled.

"Oi! Kid, the hell! You're injured, what are—"

"No, I'm not," Moonscent interrupted, turning to face Iwao. "Although, I appreciate the concern."

"The hell?" Iwao thought, confusion taking over his mind. "The hell you aren't! You had blood—"

"I'm aware I was bleeding. However, my healing factor is the most potent there is. My wounds are fully healed. While I am ashamed that I lost my target, it won't happen again. Although, I was massively outclassed. I knew Stendhal was strong, but—"

"Stendhal? Who the hell is that?" Iwao butted in, crossing his arms. Moonscent looked over to Iwao, his one eye narrowed.

"A serial killer masking as a vigilante. He wields a katana and has several throwing knives on his person. Knuckleduster. I am aware you are strong, but do not go after him. His Quirk paralyzes those who's blood his tongue comes into contact with. He is my prey, and no one else's," Moonscent spat as Iwao tilted his chin up, his expression one of disappointment.

"Kid. That's no way to think. You wanna help the weak?"

"What kind of stupid question is that? Of course, I do."

"Then don't go calling people "prey," for one. For two, if that Stendhal asshat is what did that to you, you ain't anywhere near his level. Throwing yourself at a wall won't break it. Ya gotta know what yer doin', first," Iwao stated bluntly as Moonscent looked down at his right hand.

He seemed… frustrated. But, that was only natural. Kids always believed themselves to be invincible—and this kid was pretty damn near close to that. If he could recover from internal injuries like that, he must've gained some kind of god complex.

The best thing for him right now was to break it. But, at the same time, he didn't want to pummel Moonscent into the dirt to get his point across. "Ya need to train."

"I figured. That's the only next logical step…" Moonscent said, before looking back at Iwao, nodding. "Thank you. Your words, blunt as they might have been, were kind. I'll be taking my leave now."

In a blur of motion, Moonscent was gone, although Iwao had seen him leap into the air and atop another rooftop. He frowned, bordering on scowling. Something wasn't right with that boy. He didn't know what, but whatever it was, it almost seemed… inhuman.

No kid, not even one with a hyperintelligence Quirk, spoke like that. No kid's voice sounded that mature. Especially one so young—at least, from what he could garner based on what was underneath the boy's mask.

Something wasn't adding up.

Iwao never was the conspiracy theorist type, and he never would be—not unless that conspiracy made sense—but Iwao had a feeling that Moonscent was more than what he let on.

And what that something more was had to have been dangerous.

[XXXX]

Kuin Hachisuka had to admit, out of all the people that she had the fortune of running into, Stendhal and Moonscent were not the ones that she had expected. But, all the same, the more people fighting one another and causing havoc, the better.

Sitting atop one of the many skyscrapers within Naruhata, Kuin adjusted her eyepatch, a buzzing noise murmuring just underneath. The current body she was possessing belonged to a runaway—she didn't bother to recall her name, Tamao or something along those lines. It really didn't matter. Just a face and a body that she could live vicariously through.

This body, in particular, had short orangish-brown hair, cream coloured skin, and had visibly sharp teeth. The clothing choice, though, Kuin could make on her own. Therefore, she wore dark green and white Varsity Jacket, underneath which she wore a white button-up shirt, a short pale skirt, and yellow and black striped stalkings, with brown slip-on shoes—her favourite attire, primarily because it allowed her to lure in unsuspecting morons to turn into Instant Villains.

Although, right now, the person who she had the most interest in had to be Moonscent. She had been watching him from afar during his battle with Stendhal, and, much like Number Six, had a regeneration Quirk of some kind. One that seemed to allow him to avoid death, if having been stabbed in the heart wouldn't kill him.

Although, it also seemed to give him enhanced strength and speed. Her first initial thought was that he had multiple Quirks, but she quickly dismissed the notion. All For One would have mentioned something about a recent experiment, and tell them that he had sent reinforcements to the area. Ergo, he couldn't have multiple Quirks.

That meant that there was something more to Moonscent.

Something that Kuin desperately needed to know.

"Wonder what that Quirk could do under the effects of Trigger," Kuin mused, smiling. Of course, he wasn't the only one who she was interested in. There were others, but if she could get him alone and secluded, inject him with Ideo Trigger, and watch the chaos ensue afterward?

That…

That would be interesting.

Standing up, Kuin cracked her neck from side to side, easing the strain that she gained from looking down all evening. She had already made up her mind. This week, she would learn more about Moonscent. Tomorrow, she'd have one of her bees follow him around out of sight, find where he lived, and find his school, and during it, inject him with Ideo Trigger, just to cause havoc.

Besides, it was in schools where the best tragedies could happen.

As she walked down the stairs along the side of the building, Kuin couldn't help but giggle.

Yes, truly, this was ingenious.

And the best part…?

Nothing would be traced back to her! Nothing at all!

That was why Kuin loved causing havoc like this. She loved making people hurt, loved causing problems, and most importantly of all, loved to watch people die.

Humans…

Humans were nothing but insects.

Humans ruined the natural order of things, so it was only fair to kill them for fun. To cause them as much pain and suffering as possible.

Kuin was a direct result of humanities hubris—an experiment to give animals Quirks. This was all self-inflicted. Even if the others who were apart of the experiments wanted nothing to do with her, including that damned Chimera, she would make everyone pay attention to her.

After she was done toying with Moonscent, she would destroy Naruhata.

She would make sure that Naruhata would be a message to humanity.

And that message would be clear as day….

You're all weak.

[Ending Song: Last Dance - By: Eve-]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: UNDEAD – By: Yoasobi]

[Volume 1 – Chapter 7: The Annoying Buzz of an Insect]

It had been well over three weeks since Izuku had gone to Naruhata. In that time, he had taken Knuckledusters words to heart. If he wanted any chance to fight Stendhal, he needed to know how to fight. He needed to get a grip on basic combat skills, but also street and performative.

There was just one problem.

His mother couldn’t afford to send him to any of the martial arts schools, and his wages as a Mangaka wasn’t earning him nearly enough to afford a monthly membership at any martial arts school.

So, he improvised.

He watched videos online, and practiced in parks. He would practice combos on trees, do physical exercise following a calisthenics routine, while also using the money he made as a Mangaka to pay for a monthly gym membership, because those were significantly cheaper than any martial arts school.

His only problem was not knowing how to test out his newfound capabilities. Not without going out again as Moonscent. He wanted to—he had been behind on his hunt for Stendhal, but for all he knew, Stendhal could’ve already been dealt with, which would sour his mood.

That being said, it wasn’t as if he was all out of options to test his strength.

Izuku knew one person who would love nothing more than to fight him.

Currently, it was after school. Nakime had already gone home, which gave him the excuse to linger around after the bell.

Aldera allowed students to be on campus grounds for up to two hours after school. A lot of students didn’t take advantage of it, but Izuku had in the past. Just like his previous school, he had a mental map of every facility, every room, and every knook and cranny.

Aldera, to him, was easy to navigate. As if looking at the back of his hand.

He also had a habit of noting every habit of those who he had labeled as “interest individuals.” The list was a very small one, but it consisted of three people. Nakime, Haneyama—aka Pop Step—and Bakugo.

Nakime always left school the first second she got.

Haneyama stuck around in the theater area to practice her routine.

But, the most important one for his current uses, was Bakugo’s.

Bakugo lingered around the front gates with his friends, read as cronies, so that they could go to the arcade in downtown Musutafu, which bordered on two cities—Hosu and Tokyo.  

That was where Izuku was headed right now.

As he did, the wind blowing harshly—a sign of an incoming storm—Izuku couldn’t help but feel as if doing what he was about to do was a bit of a meat-headed idea.

Izuku never really played into the “humiliating Bakugo” card often. In fact, he never did outside of intellectual disputes.

His reasoning for it was rather simple. Izuku would be the brains, and Bakugo would be the brawn.

Izuku was never one for combat.

But, his want to hunt Stendhal necessitated that he needed to get better.

And who else better than to “help” would be the same person who he had convinced that he had been weak.

Before Izuku even got within six meters of Bakugo, he turned to sharply glare at him. His annoyance was palpable, his shoulders tense, and his right palm already crackling with sparks.

Good.

That was a good sign.

“Oi, the hell do ya want, freak?” Bakugo barked, his glare intensifying, not that it bothered Izuku much. Staring blankly, Izuku adjusted his collar slightly—it had been annoying him—before speaking.

“Bakugo. I wish to spar.”

Bakugo stared at him as if he had gone insane, balking all the while. “The fuck? You? The scrawny freak? You wanna spar?” As Bakugo continued, he scoffed, brushing Izuku’s request, as if insulted. “Fuck outta here with that bullshit. Me? Spar with you? No thanks,” Bakugo spat, turning his back on Izuku.

“Well, there goes plan A. Time for plan B,” Izuku thought dryly, frowning. “What’s the matter, Bakugo? Afraid that you actually might lose?”

To that, Bakugo slowly looked over his shoulder, his eyes gaining a bloodshot tinge to them, his lips upturning into a slight snarl. “Excuse the fuck outta you. The hell did you just say?”

Izuku smirked. Good. He wanted that reaction from him. That meant he fell for the bait. Technically, he was stooping to Bakugo’s low right now, but he wanted to try out his new capabilities on a moving target. What better way to do that then to the one guy who had spent most of his life bullying him?

“I said: Are you, the great Katsuki Bakugo, afraid of losing to, as you put it, “the scrawny freak.” Because that is what this seems like to me,” Izuku replied, his voice calm, never once wavering as Bakugo snarled.

“Oh, that’s it! You’re dead!”

Bakugo moved faster than Izuku had initially expected, but he was able to make up for that by knowing what it was that Bakugo always liked to do first when it came to fighting.

And that was thrusting forward with his right hand to pop an explosion in his victims face.

Izuku side stepped the attack, got in extremely close to where Izuku’s fingers were barely even an inch away, and then, he struck at speeds that most people couldn’t possibly keep up with. The speed and force of the blow was enough to leave tiny shockwave impressions across Bakugo’s clothes and skin, making him spit up saliva all over the ground, staggering back as he began to wheeze.

“The One Inch Punch…” Izuku thought, but he refused to let up. Giving Bakugo a chance would simply mess things up. So, Izuku capitalized on his moment of weakness, lunged forward, and instead of going for a punch, keeping his momentum, Izuku did a spinning round kick. The sides of his shoes slammed into Bakugo’s arm and knocked him over.

Bakugo groaned and snarled, slowly coming to his feet. “YOU SHITTY FREAK!” Bakugo roared, snapping forward as he palmed Izuku in the stomach, followed by a point blank explosion. Izuku was sent flying into the brick fence around the courtyard permiter from the force of the blow, the brickwork cracking under pressure. Bakugo lunged for him, but Izuku was smart enough, and able to recover fast enough, to dodge to avoid the follow up explosion.

As he slipped to the right, he kicked Bakugo’s feet out from under him, causing him to face plant into the fence, before Izuku grabbed him by the hair, pulled him back, and flipped him over his shoulder to land on the grass. Then, with a definitive stomp to the chest, Izuku held him there as Bakugo squirmed. “Stay down.”

But, of course, because this was Bakugo, he refused to back down. Launching an explosion upward that Izuku narrowly dodged out of the way of by dashing to the right, he caught a right hook to the face, followed by a delayed explosion that sent him to the ground just as Bakugo was getting up.

The small burn on his face rapidly began to heal, as Bakugo sneered, looming over him in such a way that his entire face seemed to be covered in shadow, his eyes seemingly glowing red, and his sneer reflecting razor sharp teeth—like a monster staring down its next meal.

“Fucking freak, thinking you can step to me! Who the fuck do you think you are, you wannabe loser,” Bakugo snarled, and only then, when Bakugo was done spewing his repugnant garbage, did Izuku use his position to kick upward and send Bakugo backward, giving him enough space to stand.

“Shit!” Bakugo spat, blood leaking from his lower lip. “You asshole! You busted my lip!” Bakugo growled, staring at Izuku, who… seemed to be fine. Bakugo blinked, confused. How? How could he be fine? Didn’t he just sling an explosion at his face?

He knew how powerful his explosions were, especially from that range. That should’ve left at least a bruise.

But…

There was nothing.

“I think that will be all,” Izuku said, brushing off his sleeves, rolling his shoulder. “Thank you, Bakugo. I learnt a lot from this,” and as Izuku said that, he brushed past Bakugo, hands in his pockets as all Bakugo could do was stare.

What the hell was even that?

No, seriously? What the hell was that?

Since when could that freak heal from his injuries?

Or… Maybe, come to think of it, he had never seen a single bruise on him since the day he had met him.

Not a scratch, not a scrape, not a bruise, not a thing.

“What the hell…?”

Bakugo needed to know more, but, he honestly didn’t know how he was going to get that information. He sure as hell wasn’t going to ask the freak.

Maybe, he’d just jump the bastard at some point.

Yeah, that would work.

Off in the distance, standing across the opposite side of the street, lurking in an alleyway, Kuin had a smile stretching across her face.

She had been stalking Moonscent since she came to Musutafu, and had learned quite a lot. He was boring, constantly studied, and was a Mangaka. His Quirk seemed to have a mix of regeneration, some kind of strength enhancer, and enhanced defensive capabilities. She had also seen him drink blood, and only blood, meaning that his Quirk was blood related.

She had seen all of those kinds of Quirks on the effects of trigger. They got stronger, healed faster, and some even died as a result due to Quirk Overload.

But that explosion Quirk from that dusty blond boy…

“That would be so much cooler~!” Kuin thought, an excited buzzing noise rumbling underneath her eyepatch. She’d have to wait, though. Lunch time would be the best chance she’d get, so tomorrow. Tonight, though, she had other plans. Rokuro wanted her to look into something for The Villain Factory, so tonight, she’d have to wait to unleash anything big.

Stendhal was also busy, too. He had decided to head to Esuha to hunt down a few villains before he went after his next assigned target. Something came up, apparently, and he deemed it more important.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter, just as long as chaos rips across Japan, I don’t care,” Kuin said before giggling. She was half tempted to send out a Trigger Bee to jab that explosion guy mid fight, but he wanted him to be in a bigger place with more people before she did that.

After all, the most casualties was what made for the best “Instant Villain” as the police were now calling them.

“Instant Villains…. What a tacky name,” Kuin thought as she slinked back into the alleyway, frowning. The media always found a way to suck out the creativity of her ideas. “Oh well, at least it isn’t something lame like Pop-Up Villains.”

And as she walked into the alleyway, she had failed to notice that Izuku had been staring in that direction the whole time, eyes narrowed. He had never seen that girl before, and for her to be staring at the direction of the school…

“Suspicious…”

Izuku knew immediately that whoever that girl was, she was a threat. A threat that he, at some point, would need to tackle.

But, for right now, he was content to leave her to her own devices. The bite of Moonscent’s blade would evade her for now.

For now, he was focused on Stendhal, more than anyone else.

Stendhal would be his first, and only kill.

He knew the saying that “after the first, you can’t stop” but Izuku had enough self control to avoid slipping into the same trap that Stendhal fell into.

And so, Izuku walked away, making his way back to his apartment. He had ordered a new Tanto online with a false I.D., and it should arrive soon. His mother had gone to Jaku City for a business meeting, so she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

Which meant that it was time for Moonscent to come back to the streets of Naruhata.

[XXXX]

Naruhata at night wasn’t particularly any different from any other city. Just like any other city, crime rate spiked, but that wasn’t against the norm. Soga Kugizaki had seen his fair share of crime—he had committed some as well. Sometimes robbed, other times he did more… questionable things. Shakedowns, for the most part. Scaring and threatening someone into doing something bad if they didn’t hand over cash.

That Pop-Step chick was one of them. All he wanted was a couple thousand yen to buy a couple smokes. He was never serious about what he said he was going to do.

He wasn’t a freak.

He wasn’t like all those other punks.

His friends, Rapt and Moyoyuru. They weren’t like that either. They were just a couple of strung-up youths looking for a quick paycheque.

They weren’t freaks either.

Maybe it was because of his standoffish demeanour that he knew full well that people saw him differently. Saw him as a villain. His appearance didn’t help matters either. His spiked, dyed hair, his clothing, his smoking habit….

It was why when he was walking to meet up with that chick who gave them that drug, Trigger, for the second time that month he was going there to finish business.

Permanently.

She got his friends hurt.

She got them into trouble.

She got them beat up.

She was going to pay dearly for that.

Soga checked his phone, frowning. This was the meeting location, and the chick wasn’t here yet. His eyes narrowed, and just as he was about to ditch the place, a pair of footsteps echoed out from behind him. Soga looked over his shoulder, scowling.

There she was. Ginger hair, pale skin, dark brown eyes and that obnoxious outfit.

“Oh? You’re friends aren’t here? I thought you said all of you were going to show up,” The Chick said, her voice sickly sweet, like honey on bread.

“They ain’t a part of this no more,” Soga spat, his eyes narrowed in a glare. “You got a lotta nerve actually showin’ up, ya know that?”

“Why’s that?” The chick said as Soga sneered.

“You said that shit wasn’t gonna ‘cause problems. Just give us a boost. You neva said it would ‘cause us to lose our wits,” Soga spat as The Chick scoffed.

“It’s an experimental drug. Forgive me for not knowing what would happen. Besides, that batch was faulty,” The Chick replied cooly, before a smirk took up her visage. “Say, have you heard the rumours?”

“Hmn?”

“There’s a serial killer on the loose. He’s been taking down crooks left and right, and since you guys were on the news labeled as a part of the whole Instant Villains trend happening, he might just come after ya next!” The Chick said, putting on a face of faux worry, something that Soga saw through instantly. “You should tell them! That scary psycho’s gonna come after ya,” then, a viscous smirk took up her visage. “And you’re gonna need what I got to help you outta this mess.”

Soga’s sneer was so filled with rage that he could barely contain himself. Several veins popped out on his forehead, threatening to burst as he glared daggers at The Chick. “Then I’ll deal with ‘em myself. Without that shitty drug. I only came here to end things. I’m done with this shit.”

“Oh? Is that so?” The Chick said, a curious hint to her voice. “Huh. That’s crummy. Though, I guess you wanting to protect your friends is a true sign of decency. Maybe you aren’t that bad after all…”

“Enough,” a quiet, clipped tone of voice rippled throughout the alleyway as Soga’s eyes widened. There, standing behind The Chick, was a man in a red mask and jumpsuit get-up, with fold-out knives lining his chest, alongside a katana on his back, the blade gleaming in the moonlight, reflecting a crimson hue along the edge. “This charade has gone on long enough. You hide behind falsehoods, and for it I will cut you down.”

“Soga~! You sure you don’t want my help?” The Chick said, her tone venomous. This was a trap. He should’ve figured it was. Why the hell didn’t he put two and two together!

“Bah, piss off!” Soga spat, thin blade-like claws ejecting from his knuckles. “I’ll take you both on, without that shitty drug!”

“Bor~ing,” The Chick said in a sing-song tone of voice, putting both hands behind her back. “You’re no fun Soga. Forcing my hand like this… Oh well, guess I gotta make things interesting. You don’t mind, do ya, Stendhal?”

The masked murderer, Stendhal, said nothing. He simply got into a position where he could strike at Soga with his blade, and Soga knew at that moment that he was screwed. He had seen people who knew how to fight—how to properly fight—and Soga knew full well that he wasn’t like that. But Stendhal? He knew what he was doing.

Panic filled Soga’s eyes, his expression turning from stone-cold seriousness to fear as he took a step back. The Chick grinned as a horde of strange looking bees flew out of nowhere. “Time to make things interesting.”

A wave of bees with syringe bottoms flew out toward Soga. He covered his face, protecting his eyes with both of his arms, waiting for them to attack.

But nothing came.

The only sound that followed was the sound of a blade slicing through the air.

A gasp of shock fell out of The Chick’s face as Stendhal muttered something. Soga opened his eyes, and looked in front of him. A small, child-size individual adorned in a black yukata with floral patterns stood in front of him, wearing a red oni mask over his face. The boy’s hair was tied into bun with two sticks keeping it in place, and in his right hand was a tanto.

All around him were dead bees, sliced in half with eerie precision. Though his expression was masked, the bloodlust oozing off of him was more than enough to send chills down Soga’s spine. For someone so young to have that kind of aura…

“To think, now you target civilians Stendhal. Disgusting,” the boy said, his voice dripping with malice.

“You… I pierced your heart. You should not be alive,” Stendhal said matter-of-factly as the boy tilted his head.

“You stabbed a heart. But what about my six others?” The boy replied, flicking his tanto free of any insect guts. “I already alerted my contact that you’re here, and they’re bringing their friends, too. One of which includes Knuckleduster. Tell me something, do you wish to deal with four, potentially five people at once? Or will you take my offer of temporary mercy?”

“You…” The Chick hissed, glaring at the boy with nothing but contempt. “I thought you were cool, Moonscent.”

“Moonscent? This brat’s Moonscent?” Soga though, confusion swirling in his mind as Moonscent turned his attention to her.

“I am not talking to you, trash. I suggest you move along,” Moonscent spat as The Chick sneered.

“Fine, I’ll take two for the price of one,” The Chick spat as more bees swarmed toward Soga and Moonscent. Moonscent used his Tanto to cleave through dozens of the bees in an instant, but even he wasn’t able to keep up with the sheer amount of them all at once. Eventually, a few slipped by and stung both Moonscent and Soga.

For Moonscent, once the drug entered his body, it raced toward his brain trying to find a Quirk Factor to amplify. Only for a sea of strange, blackened blood cells to race toward the drug and demolish it within seconds.

When the drug did nothing for Moonscent, Kuin was taken aback. “There should’ve been an effect by now. But… nothing happened to him,” Kuin thought, her expression laced with confusion, before turning to look at Soga, which was when her expression turned into sadistic glee. “Oh well, at least I got one of them~!”

Moonscent looked over his shoulder, flicking the bee off the side of his exposed face, before looking up at the mass of skin and quills behind him. Soga let out a roar of fury, which in turn culminated in Kuin laughing.

“Have fun, you three~! I’m gonna bounce before anything else happens~!”

And then, she was gone, stepping onto a few bees and flying off. Moonscent glared at Stendhal, readying his Tanto as he gripped the hilt of his blade.

“You truly are an odd one, Moonscent,” Stendhal said, inhaling as he spoke. “First, you mention you have multiple hearts…. Then, a drug that is meant to boost someone’s Quirk Factor has no affect on you…. It makes me wonder… Just what are you?”

Moonscent sneered underneath his mask. He had no idea how long it would take for his back-up to arrive. He could hear Soga’s ragged and furious breathing behind him. He was moments away from charging like a wild animal.

“You’re name is Soga, yes?”

“Yeah,” Soga growled. He seemed to have control. Good.

“Then let us dispatch of this filth,” Moonscent said, raising his tanto. “Back up will arrive soon, but until then, it is just the two of us.”

“Whatever. This bastard is mine!” Soga roared as Stendhal huffed.

“So, you reveal your true colours. Fine by me. Then it’s time to die!” Stendhal declared, as they all lunged at one another.

[-Ending Song: Last Dance – By: Eve-]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: UNDEAD – By: Yoasobi]

[Volume 1 – Chapter 8: Seething, Bloodcurdling Rage]

When Stendhal lunged forward, he did not target Moonscent. He targeted the one named Soga. He reasoned that once he dealt with Soga, then Moonscent would be next.

But he made a critical error in not targeting Moonscent.

The moment Stendhal prepared to slash at Soga, Moonscent interjected himself between Soga and the strike, his tanto rising to cross blades with Stendhal’s katana. Whereas before the strike would have sent Moonscent flying like it had in their first encounter, Moonscent matched Stendhal in physical strength, perfectly blocking the blow.

“What?”

It should not have been possible.

There was no way for someone so young to match the physical strength of an adult. Not even in a society of Quirks.

As sparks flashed between the clash of blades, Stendhal had barely any time to react to the massive, razor-sharp quill covered fist that Soga threw his way. If Stendhal moved his blade, his hand would be gone. So, he took the punch head on, the fist slamming into Stendhal’s mask as it sent him flying.

Stendhal flew through the air, flipping uncontrollably before landing on the ground, tumbling along the pavement before skidding to a halt near the end of the alleyway. His head throbbed in pain as he growled under his breath before collecting himself.

For as strong as he was, he wasn’t particularly durable. He was what some might call a “glass canon.” Able to dish out damage but unable to take it very well. That being said, he was not going to allow the brute—who was currently charging at him with reckless abandon—to do that again.

Steadying his blade, Stendhal calmed his breathing, before adjusting his stance with his blade, the pummel just inches away from his right shoulder. As Soga drew closer, and just as he was three feet away, Stendhal struck.

“Blood Breathing – Second form: Vein Splitter!” Stendhal thought, lunging forward with a thrusting motion. The tip of the blade caught within Soga’s right bicep, and as it did, Stendhal sliced diagonally across his arm and down from the top right side of his chest down to his abdomen, blood spewing like a fountain.

Soga roared in pain, echoing out into the night sky as Stendhal smirked underneath his mask. A wound like that would be fatal, even to someone with Trigger in their system.

But even still, he did not forget about Moonscent.

Quickly turning on his heel, he blocked another strike from Moonscent’s tanto—a piercing attack that was aimed for his throat. “Quite bloodthirsty aren’t we?” Stendhal said, his tone mocking. Moonscent said nothing in reply, and just before Stendhal could say another word, Moonscent used the friction from his impact of Stendhal’s blade to flip backwards, and have the heel of his foot come into contact with the top of Stendhal’s head.

Stendhal barely had the chance to register the impact to avoid slamming into the ground mask first. Using the force of the blow and the direction of where it was taking him, Stendhal rolled like a ball and repositioned himself behind Moonscent, who, when he landed, quickly turned and blocked another strike.

“In the last three weeks you’ve clearly improved,” Stendhal commented as the two exchanged blows with their blades, sparks flying from each impact, but with Stendhal having the upper hand, pushing Moonscent back with each strike. “Alas, it will afford you nothing.”

On the next strike of their blades, Stendhal found an opening, smirked under his mask, and adjusting himself accordingly, Stendhal took the opportunity. “Blood Breathing – Fourth form: Arterial Reap!”

Slashing his katana downward toward the upper right hand-side of Moonscent’s body, he purposely missed to force Moonscent to prepare a block, before rising his blade back upward, carving into the lower left-hand side of his body, severing the Iliac, gastric, before finally diverting to the brachial arteries, all in one fluid motion.

Much like what happened to Soga, blood spewed like a fountain. Unlike what happened to Soga, who was starting to stand up, glaring daggers at Stendhal, Moonscent kicked Stendhal in the stomach, sending him backward a few feet as the cut healed over in the time it took to blink.

Blood stained Stendhal’s blade—Moonscent’s blood—as the aforementioned boy charged forward. He considered using his Quirk, but decided against it. He did not need his Quirk to best a pre-pubescent child. Beneath the mask, Stendhal could sense the killing intent coming off of him. Most people fell to arterial reap, but Moonscent and his pesky regeneration was proving to be difficult.

Stendhal thought back to what he said about having multiple hearts—or at the very least alluded to having multiple hearts. Most mutation based Quirks didn’t cause that drastic of a mutation. But, then again, if the rumours of Quirks becoming stronger every generation was true, then it made sense…. Up until that Trigger Bee did nothing to him.

He still hadn’t an answer to the question he asked Moonscent.

What was he?

Was he even human?

“Nonsense,” Stendhal thought, steadying his blade as he blocked a downward slash from Moonscent. “What else could he be?” Stendhal reasoned, continuing to block strike after strike as Soga finally regained his composure and rushed forward, flanking Stendhal’s right. Stendhal quickly disengaged from Moonscent to attack Soga, only for Moonscent to finally land a blow.

Moonscent’s tanto lodged itself just under Stendhal’s upper most switch blade, piercing just above his lung as Stendhal hissed. The blow distracted Stendhal as Soga slammed his right fist into Stendhal’s stomach, claws included, piercing his intestines as the force of the bunch of was enough to send Stendhal flying out of the alleyway and into the empty street proper.

Stendhal collected himself, steadying his breathing. From the scrolls of his ancestors, alongside learning about Breathing Techniques and how to create ones own, on top of that, there was the technique known as Total Concentration Breathing, which hastened blood flow and increased ones physical capabilities.

Stendhal hadn’t used it yet, but considering his wounds, and considering the fact that he was losing, he needed the extra boost in power. That, and with the threat of back-up coming for those two, he knew that if he didn’t dispatch of them things were only going to get worse.

As Stendhal breathed deep, he immediately felt the effects as his veins surged, his heart beat accelerated, and much like the effects of adrenaline, he felt the pain from the two wounds he had gained bleed away into the back of his mind.

Just as Moonscent and Soga walked out of the alleyway to meet Stendhal in the street, Stendhal lunged forward, cracking the pavement underneath his feet. He targeted Moonscent first, seeing as he was the most important threat at the moment.

Stendhal had been moving so fast that neither Soga nor Moonscent could react. Mid-lunge, Stendhal prepared his blade. This move was only used when in desperate need to end a battle. If stabbing his heart would not kill Moonscent, then severing his head would have to do.

And so, without a single note of hesitation, Stendhal readied his katana, and using his blurring speed, mere feet away from Moonscent, he unleashed it.

“BLOOD BREATHING – EIGHT FORM: FINAL HEMORRHAGE!”

The scene played out in his mind like a painting. Blood seemingly channelled all around Stendhal’s blade, coating it, surrounding it in pure crimson, as with a single, solitary horizontal slash, Stendhal’s blade carved through Moonscent’s neck, severing his head from his body.

Soga’s eyes widened.

Moonscent’s expression of horror was masked by the face of an oni overlapping his.

And just as Stendhal landed the attack, Pop-Step stood on the edge of the building, hands covering her mouth, eyes wide with horror and disgust. She was the first between herself, Crawler, and Knuckleduster to arrive.

And it had been too late.

Stendhal paid the new arrival no mind as Moonscent’s body crumbled to the ground like a ragdoll, his tanto skidding across the pavement. His attention then shifted over to Soga, narrowing his eyes as he ducked under a sloppy right hook.

Continuing his momentum, Stendhal followed up his last attack with another as Soga prepared a block, only for Stendhal to sneak behind him in the blink of an eye, and upon seeing how exposed his back was, struck like a serpent eager for pray.

“Blood Breathing – Seventh Form: Vascular Coil!”

Stendhal thrust his blade into Soga’s back, piercing through his chest and stabbing his diaphragm, ripping the blade out and kicking Soga to the ground as a pool of blood began to spill around him. The entire time, Stendhal kept his composure.

Two dead bodies.

Two villains scratched off the list. One his true target, and another that had stuck his nose in a place it didn’t belong.

But, Stendhal knew that this was not going to be the end.

He flicked his blade clean of the blood and side-stepped the incoming attack from above. A flash of black and pink registered in his eyes as he steadied his blade as a familiar sight took up his vision. The skimpy attire was recognizable to anyone familiar with the street performer, even as lame as it appeared.

“Pop-Step…” Stendhal hissed. “You do not belong here. Leave while you can, or you shall be next.”

“You killed a kid! A literal child!” Pop-Step raged, clenching her right hand into a fist. “You’ll pay for that!”

“Then you can join him!” Stendhal roared, lunging forward faster than Pop-Step could react, eyes wide as Stendhal readied his blade. Just moments before he performed the first form of Blood Breathing, something knocked into his legs, nearly sweeping him off his feet as he did a back flip.

“I admired you, ya know,” Crawler said, disappointment coating his words. “To think you were a killer… but I won’t let you hurt anyone else! That’s what a hero is supposed to do!” Crawler shouted, keeping low to the ground as Stendhal narrowed his eyes underneath his mask.

“Then you should know the importance of ridding the world of trash like those two. Villains. You two… you are pure of heart. Turn back, now. Or else I’ll will be made to force my hand,” Stendhal tried to reason, but it was no use, as Crawler surged forward, as well as Pop-Step, who leapt into the air.

A pincer attack.

A wise choice.

Too bad it hardly mattered.

Just leaping back to gain some distance, Stendhal waited for the perfect moment to unleash a move perfect for this exact kind of attack. Readying his blade in front of him in a sideway stance, just as both of them got within his metaphorical crosshairs, Stendhal surged forward in a leaping motion as he begun to spin his blade at blinding speeds—like that of a propeller on a plane as he mentally exclaimed the attack’s name.

“Blood Breathing – Sixth Form: Blood Petal Scatter!”

And just like a propeller blade, the attack carved and tore through Pop-Step and Crawler, drawing a significant amount of blood that even most adults would find debilitating. It caused Pop-Step to tumble to her side, hitting a light post and halting her in totality as Crawler flew backward, slamming into the wall of a nearby building, crashing into the side of it with a cry of pain.

Stendhal skidded to a halt, standing tall over the four bodies that were now in front of him. He glanced over at Pop-Step, her breathing slow and shallow. A non-threat. He then cast his attention to Crawler, who, despite the various gashes, slices, and cuts, came to his feet.

Blood leaked from him like a leaky pipe. Determination gleamed in his eyes, and in that determination, Stendhal saw the look of a true hero in his eyes.

It was sad, really.

“You don’t know when to give up. Look around you, Crawler. An ocean of blood separates us. I have yet to even use my Quirk. Do you truly think that you can take me on, knowing that?” Stendhal questioned, cocking an eyebrow underneath his mask. “Go on. Save yourself. Leave these fools to their fates. You needn’t trouble yourself anymore.”

“That… is not acceptable!” Crawler shouted, getting into a fighting stance. “Just because I don’t have a license… Does not mean I won’t stop a villain like you!”

“He has conviction, and an ample amount,” Stendhal mused, steadying his blade. “You truly are admirable, Crawler. Tell me, what is your name?”

“Haimawari Koichi!”

“Chizome Akaguro,” Akaguro replied, readying himself. “Haimawari. I shall remember your name. Now, come!”

Haimawari got low to the ground as Akaguro lunged forward. The two charged at one another, and just as Haimawari came close, he got out of his lowered, speeding stance, and surged upward, elbowing Akaguro in the stomach, causing the wound in his gut to tear open more—not that he would’ve been aware of that—causing Akaguro to cough up blood, losing his focus and interrupting his Total Concentration Breathing.

The force of the impact caused him to stagger backward. He quickly gathered his wits, continued his Total Concentration Breathing, and blocked another charging attack with the flat of his blade. Koichi slugged punch after punch, each sloppier than the last as the adrenaline began to leave his body.

This last stand… Akaguro knew full well it was out of pure desperation.

Haimawari’s blood still stained his blade.

He could, if he wanted to, use Blood Curdle and offer him mercy.

But no.

Akaguro knew that if he did that, all that would do would taint Haimawari and turn him into a vengeance seeker. It would ruin his heroic spirit and turn him into another villain.

Akaguro was The Villain Killer, not The Villain Maker.

As the two exchanged blows, Akaguro felt pity for Haimawari. It was in that pity that he decided to end things as quickly as he could. An opening appeared, and when it did, Akaguro capitalized on it.

“Blood Breathing – Fifth Form: Pulse Fang.”

With two, scarily accurate thrusts of his katana, Akaguro pierced both lungs of Koichi Haimawari. When Koichi fell to the ground, gasping for breath, Akaguro did not feel triumph.

He did not feel the thrill of victory.

He did not feel good about himself.

He felt…

He felt awful.

In Haimawari, he saw himself. Akaguro saw before him someone who wanted to be a hero, but could not do so due to restrictions and a seemingly weak, or in his case, taboo Quirk.

But just as he killed that past version of himself, Akaguro readied to do the same for Haimawari.

“Koichi Haimawari. I grant you reprieve from your life of suffering. You will be known for what you were: a true hero. One who died in the line of action.”

And just as Akaguro was about to pierced Koichi’s neck, Akaguro narrowly avoided a punch from a massive, brass knuckle adorned black gloved hand.  

“Yer wrong, jackass,” A heavy, anger fueled voice rumbled from in front of Akaguro as his eyes narrowed underneath his mask. “'Cause I’m here, and I ain’t gonna let ya kill my students!”

Standing before him, dressed in a dark green military-style jacket, black muscle shirt and sand-brown cargo jeans with a mask covering his face, Knuckleduster stood, a confident yet furious smirk taking up the uncovered portion of his face as the bandana mask covered the upper-half.

“Another one? Those two then, Pop-Step and Haimawari… They must’ve been the first wave of back-up. That makes Knuckleduster the last…” Akaguro reasoned, adjusting the stance of his blade.

“Knuckleduster… Truly, I do not wish to fight you. You follow the path of justice just as Haimawari did. We share a common goal—”

“Like hell we do,” Knuckleduster spat, teeth gnashing. “I’m an ally of justice. You’re just a crazed butcher pretending to be!”

“Hmm… I see. Another who refuses to see reason… However, perhaps it is I who cannot see the truth?” Akaguro murmured, readying himself. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am merely pretending. But what I do know, Knuckleduster, is that you cannot walk away from this alive.”

“Then I guess I just gotta give ya a knuckle sandwich!” Knuckleduster shouted as the two charged toward one another. Knuckleduster threw a blindingly fast jab, and had Akaguro not been using Total Concentration Breathing, he would’ve gotten hit. But, thanks to his use of the breathing technique, he was able to slip past the punch, and counter it.

“Blood Breathing – First Form: Hack n’ Slash!”

Akaguro unleashed eight slashes in varying directions, all of which were blocked by Knuckleduster’s forearms, blood seeping from the gashes. But Knuckleduster did not relent. He surged forward, ducking to the left to avoid a horizontal slash—a ninth strike meant to cut his jugular—and sent a right hook aimed for the side of Akaguro’s face mask.

Akaguro reared back, the punch grazing his mask and scratching it, leaving a line just above where his nose would’ve been as Akaguro leapt back, giving himself distance. Distance that was quickly closed by Knuckleduster, who unleashed a flurry of punches, all of which Akaguro used his katana to block.

Had Akaguro’s katana been a regular blade, it would have shattered.

But Akaguro’s katana was anything but normal.

Akaguro’s katana was made out of a legendary metal forged to withstand blows that would wipe out whole cities in a single go.

Knuckledusters expression changed from contempt and rage to battle lust-filled glee. Being the ravaging barbarian he was, Knuckleduster enjoyed a fight when someone could keep up with him and not backdown.

But, at the same time, his students were bleeding out, and from the looks of things, one was already dead—even if he didn’t consider Moonscent a true student of his, he had given him the advice to train. Clearly, it either wasn’t enough or he didn’t train at all.

But either way, he wasn’t going to let anyone else die.

So, Knuckleduster switched things up.

Knuckleduster stamped forward with enough force to shake the ground, causing Akaguro to falter briefly, and with the opening given, Knuckleduster surged his right fist forward, aiming to punch Akaguro in the face…!

Only…

“Blood Breathing – Seventh Form: Vascular Coil!” Akaguro roared, slipped past the blow like a snake and slashed just below Knuckledusters bicep, cutting his brachial artery as blood spewed from the wound, coating his blade.

Knuckleduster went to turn and punch Akaguro, only for Akaguro to lick the blood on his blade, and upon doing so, Knuckleduster felt a surge of something race through his body, causing him to collapse in the practical ocean of blood, most of which had dried up due to exposure to the air.

Akaguro stared down at Knuckleduster, sweat building on his forehead and face. Even while using Total Concentration Breathing, he knew that if he continued for any longer, he would eventually tire, and once he did, the fight would be over.

It was why he did something as dishonorable as using his Quirk.

Akaguro only ever used his Quirk on those who he hunted. He never used it in a setting where he had truly met his match. For that, he typically only used Blood Breathing. But, due to his condition worsening, he knew that he couldn’t fight for much longer.

“It’s over, Knuckleduster. You are paralyzed, and will be that way for several minutes. You have lost,” Akaguro said, reverence in his tone of voice. In the distance, he could hear sirens. The police and an ambulance no-doubt had been called.

In other words, that meant he needed to flee.

“You… bastard…! Cheating like that…” Knuckleduster spat as Akaguro frowned.

“For what it’s worth, I feel the same. We will meet again, Knuckleduster. Fair—”

Before he could finish his sentence, however, a black blur slammed a boot-covered foot in Akaguro’s face. Akaguro was once again sent flying backward, slamming into a wall as he cupped his mask, dizziness taking up his visage.

“What the…?” Knuckleduster muttered as Akaguro could not believe his eyes.

It was impossible.

It was beyond unrealistic.

It should not have been…!

And yet, he could not deny the truth.

Standing in front of Knuckleduster, Moonscent stood, oni mask covering his face, tanto in hand.

“How?!” Akaguro shouted as Moonscent hummed.

“Truly? I do not know. But what I do know is this, Stendhal. This ends here and now,” Moonscent spat as Akaguro sneered underneath his mask.

This could not have been happening. He decapitated Moonscent. He watched as his head flung off his shoulders. He should not be alive!

And yet, reality spat in his face as he was forced to accept that Moonscent was still alive.

Was his regeneration really that powerful?

Or…

Was there something else at play here?

Whatever the case was, Akaguro did not know, nor did he care.

“No. We will continue this later, Moonscent. By far, you are the most intriguing individual here. You survived two things that should have killed any regular human. Clearly, you are not like us. No human being should have survived that,” Akaguro said, his voice starting to shake.

The pain of his wounds were starting to get to him, even through Total Concentration Breathing.

He needed to leave.

“Before I go, Moonscent. I ask you one question. I expect an answer when we next meet,” Akaguro said, before levelling his sword in Moonscent’s direction. “What are you? Because it is clear to me you are not human.”

And then, just as Moonscent was about to lunge forward, Akaguro leapt backward, jumping off of a sign, and onto a nearby rooftop, before fleeing the scene, leaving Moonscent, Knuckleduster, Soga, Crawler, and Pop-step to their own devices.

Before Moonscent could do anything, though, a figure emerged from the shadows. They wore a black tracksuit, had a large grey scarf around their neck, had piercing black eyes, and stubble on their chin. Along his waist was a utility belt, and his expression was one of curiosity and concern.

“Saw the tail end of that… You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Knuckleduster. But first, I’ll talk to the police and first responders,” Pro Hero Eraserhead said as multiple police cars and two ambulances pulled up to the scene.

[Ending Song: Last Dance – By: Eve]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: UNDEAD – By: YOASOBI]

[Volume 1 – Chapter 9: What Is It To Be Human?]

Izuku was never one to ignore a question, no matter how uncomfortable the answer might have been. But, as he sat in a hospital bed for the second time in his life, the light of the moon once again shining down on him from an open window, he did not know what to do.

His fight with Stendhal once again showed him just how weak he was.

Once again, Stendhal cut him down.

Once again, Stendhal had bested him.

Once again, he had failed to kill Stendhal.

Izuku Midoriya hated failure.

The mere concept of failure made his blood boil like nothing else had before. Whether it be failure on his part, or failure of others around him.

The fact that five decently skilled individuals could not best one man had ate away at Izuku since the moment he had arrived here. Was the gap in their skill simply that wide?

Looking back on the fight, the fighting style that Stendhal had used seemed eerily familiar to him. Izuku knew not why that was the case, but the flow of Stendhal’s blade had reminded him of something. What that something was, Izuku did not know.

Just like those drawings he did back when he was little, of mid-industrial revolution Tokyo wroth in battle between a monster and several swordsman, he was plagued by a memory that made very little sense for him to have.

Memories of swordsmen with unique battle arts.

Memories of a boy with spikey black hair, a dual coloured haori, one half yellow and green and the other half pure red, underneath which was a black uniform. The boy swung a sword that flowed eerily similar to that of Stendhal, except less violent and more relaxed.

And then, he was pulled out of the memory when his head re-attached to the base of his neck, and he flung back into action the moment he saw Stendhal looming over Knuckleduster.

Which brought him to now. Maskless, dressed in a hospital gown with his Yukata being taken, and with a handcuff on his wrist attached to the hospital bed. A handcuff that, if he strained hard enough against, he could more than likely snap the chain of, but he decided against it.

He requested that his mother not be called, which thankfully Eraserhead granted his wish, but that didn’t mean he was going to be able to explain to his mother why he wasn’t at home in bed.

Maybe he could lie and say he had been out on a walk?

No… a walk that lasted several hours in the middle of the night wasn’t going to cut it.

Not to mention, he wasn’t alone in the hospital room.

Sitting across from him was Pop-Step, bandaged from the neck down. She was unconscious for the time being, and next to her was someone else that Izuku did not recognize. Short cut brown hair, a bland face with light brown eyes, and also unconscious with a breathing mask on his face.

Next to Izuku was a turquoise-haired man with tanned skin. He too had a breathing mask over his face, and much like everyone else, he was unconscious.

Knuckleduster was being kept in a different room, where the police and Eraserhead were interrogating him.

The silence gave Izuku time to think on the question that Stendhal had asked him.

“What am I?” Izuku narrowed his eyes as he looked at one of his hands, claws gleaming in the light of the hospital room.

As much as he wanted to disagree with Stendhal, he couldn’t help but feel that he had been right.

Humans could not survive being decapitated.

Humans did not have multiple hearts.

Humans did not have multiple brains.

Even in a world of Quirks, Izuku was not normal in the slightest.

So, if Izuku was not human, then what was he?

His mother was human.

His father, while a scumbag, was also human.

So how could he not be human?

Stendhal got away. That meant that he would no doubt run into him again, and Stendhal demanded an answer from Izuku when they next met.

But, if Izuku did not know what he was, then how could he give Stendhal an answer?

His stomach grumbled, and when it did, a wave of frustration washed over him. He had yet to have his bag of blood today. That meant that when he got home, he’d need to have two. One for yesterday and one for today, seeing was it 2:30 in the morning.

Izuku was at a loss for what to do. Frustration began to settle in his mind as he curled his uncuffed hand into and out of a fist multiple times, watching how his veins flexed, assessing how his claws barely scraped his skin, and how utterly frustrating this entire situation was.

He was only pulled out of his thoughts when the sound of footsteps drew closer to his bed, and when he looked up, he was greeted with Eraserhead standing at the left hand side of his bed. His left hand was in his pants pocket, and his other hand was at his side. The look in his eye reminded him of a tired, overworked office worker, but lurking deep within was both disappointment, curiosity, and interest.

“Well, kid. Seeing as you’re the only conscious one here, and seeing as Knuckleduster doesn’t want to talk, I guess all I’m left with is you,” Eraserhead began, pinching the bridge of his nose, seemingly at his wits end. “For the record, seeing as you’re a minor below the age of fifteen, you aren’t in any trouble. At most, you’ll be left with a warning, and no, I won’t tell your mother. Man of my word.”

Izuku nodded in acknowledgement, before looking back down at his hand, staring at his claws once more, then looking back at Eraserhead. “Will the others be in trouble?”

“That entirely depends on your testimony. Speaking of… Tsukauchi, c’mere,” Eraserhead called out toward the doorway as a man dressed in a tan overcoat and a matching tan fedora entered into the hospital room. In his right hand was a notepad, and in his left was a pen. He had a tired look on his face, and his eyes also reflected that of frustration.

The man, Tsukauchi, took one glance at Izuku, and frowned. “We’re going to take the word of this child?”

“This child was also there. In fact, he was the one who’s head re-attached itself. Remember?” Eraserhead said as Tsukauchi blinked, then looked back at Izuku incredulously.

“Wait a second… You? You’re the infamous Moonscent?”

“Yes, he is, and because he’s a minor below the age of fifteen, there’s nothing that we can do about it,” Eraserhead added as Tsukauchi’s frown deepened.

“You’re kidding…” Tsukauchi deadpanned, before sighing. “Well, the laws the law I suppose, but this will go on your record, young man.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, from the moment you arrived on the scene, explain everything,” Tsukauchi instructed, and that was exactly what Izuku did. From the moment he showed up, to the moment Stendhal departed, Izuku recounted everything, and did so while attempting to frame everyone, excluding the strange girl and Stendhal, in a positive light.

By the time Izuku finished, it was already nearing four in the morning. Tsukauchi looked at the notes, then back to Izuku and then over to Eraserhead, before sighing. “Yeah, that checks out. According to all eye-witnesses it’s exactly as he explained it.”

“So you’ve got a vendetta against this Stendhal guy. Why?” Eraserhead asked as Izuku narrowed his eyes.

“He spits in the face of vigilantes across Japan. He claims to stand for justice, but kills everyone he comes across. At least with most level-headed vigilantes like my cohorts, we report the people who we capture to the police. While we may not be licensed, at the very least we do not kill,” Izuku replied, anger leaking into his tone as Tsukauchi frowned.

“And yet, even then, it’s still illegal. It doesn’t matter what your reasoning is,” Tsukauchi stated as Izuku narrowed his eyes. “That being said, you are right. This Stendhal figure seems like he’s going to be a problem. But, from here on out, you’re to stay out of this.”

“With all due respect, he cut off. My. Head. I am not going to sit here and let him get away with embarrassing me in such a way,” Izuku spat, glaring at Tsukauchi, who met his glare with equal measure.

“I will not allow a child to endanger themselves, regardless of reason. You’re lucky to be alive! It doesn’t matter how powerful your regeneration Quirk is, or if you were under the effects of Trigger or not, whatever the case may be, if you run into him again, and he does that again, you could very well die!” Tsukauchi admonished, glancing over at Eraserhead, who hummed in agreement.

“Exactly. Without official hero back up, you would very easily get hurt, or worse,” Eraserhead said as Tsukauchi blinked at him, before a look of realization took up his visage.

“Aizawa… Don’t you dare!”

“Hm?” Eraserhead glanced at Tsukauchi, raising an eyebrow. “What? I said nothing,” Eraserhead continued, crossing his arms. “Besides, I’m not going to put someone so young in that kind of danger. It would be entirely illogical and completely irrational.”

“Uh-huh…” Tsukauchi grumbled, side-eyeing Eraserhead before leveling a stern glare at Izuku. “I mean it. If I find out that you go after Stendhal again, I will put you in a holding cell for a full day. You got it?” and with a huff, Tsukauchi left the hospital room whereas Eraserhead lingered for a few moments before following after him, but not before scoffing.

“Not that he can do that without heavy reprimand…”

Izuku heard that as Eraserhead left. Frankly, he couldn’t tell whether or not Eraserhead was encouraging him or just being flippant. But either way, it felt as if  he was trying to railroad Izuku into encountering Stendhal again.

Not that it mattered what either of them thought.

Stendhal was his.

He would not rest until Stendhal met his end by Izuku’s hands.

This was no longer about right or wrong.

This was no longer about justice and the mishandling of justice.

This was personal.

And once something became personal to Izuku, he never let go until it was over.  

[XXXX]

Kuin was not in a great mood.

Ever since her run in with Moonscent and Soga, she had been hung up on by the fact that Moonscent wasn’t even in the least bit affected by her Trigger Bee.

No change in his physical appearance.

No difference in his regeneration.

No nothing.

She had observed the fight from a distance between the group of vigilantes and Stendhal, so she would know. As brutal and as bloody as it was, it didn’t seem all that out of the ordinary.

Sure, Soga had changed—that much was obvious.

But Moonscent?

Nope.

Nadda.

Zip, zilch, zero.

And that was what frustrated her, beyond anything else.

In her time of using Trigger to create Instant Villains all across Japan, this had been the first time—aside from the odd Quirkless individual that she accidently stung—that nothing happened.

With Quirkless people, it made sense. They had no Quirk Factor to target. But, it was clear that Moonscent had a Quirk.

So then, why didn’t it work?

When Stendhal decapitated Moonscent, she was a little peeved that, at the time, she assumed he had died. But when his head was reattached by muscle strands that snapped forward toward his neck, needless to say, Kuin interest, and frustration, with Moonscent had doubled—nay, tripled.

It was clear to her that Moonscent was not human. After all, no Quirk functioned like that—not even Rokuro’s regeneration acted like that, and it was a direct copy of The Boogeyman's one for one, and his was the best in the business.

Of course, Kuin kept that tid bit of information for herself. She didn’t want to spoil the surprise when and if Rokuro ran into Moonscent.

Which led Kuin to lingering around where she was now.

“So, you don’t think he’s human?” Kuin asked, standing behind Stendhal—Akaguro, same difference really—who was busy wrapping bandages around his waist. A bright red stain had formed around the center mass of the bandage wrap, as Akaguro huffed.

“It’s obvious. No human can survive having their head cut off. Not even you could keep your host alive if that happened. You would need a new one,” Akaguro said, grunting as he tightened the bandage around his waist.

“Well, we can agree on that…” Kuin said, rubbing at her neck, a bit of uneasy whirling up within as she looked over her shoulder and out the window. “I’m surprised you bested Knuckleduster. By all accounts, he should’ve beat you. He’s faster, stronger, and more durable than you. How?”

“It’s a family secret. Just because we’re partners does not mean I am going to hand over familial secrets. Now, unless you have nothing else better to do, buzz off you annoying insect,” Akaguro spat as Kuin feigned offence.

“Bah! I’ll have you know “buzz off” is basically a slur!”

“Buzz. Off,” Akaguro repeated, raising the tip of his katana at Kuin’s left eye, mere inches away from the hair that was hiding her real form.

“Alright, jeez, you’re such a party pooper!” Kuin complained, huffing as she turned her back on Akaguro, stuffing her hands in her pockets, a scowl taking up her visage as she walked. When she exited the apartment building that Akaguro lived in, Kuin began to walk down the street, grumbling as she dipped into an alleyway.

The backstreets were the best way to get around in Naruhata. Nothing particularly happened at night, even as dusk turned to dawn. The city only really woke up around five in the morning, and right now, it was just bordering on 4:30.

She knew she had about five more trigger bees left before she needed to refill, but even then, that wouldn’t be enough for anything fun. For someone with low blood pressure, it took two to get a decent effect. More if she wanted something really interesting.

Rokuro wasn’t going to be around for a few days. The Boogeyman wanted to speak to him about something important, meaning that not only was she out of supplies till then, but she needed to keep on the downlow.

Kuin knew just how relentless Moonscent could be.

Word in the underground was that if Moonscent wanted your head, he’d have it. One way or another.

Sure, Moonscent wasn’t a killer. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t above mutilation. Many fellow villains lost limbs when they ran into Moonscent. Someone who she had a particularly close friendship when she was within a different body lost both his hands and one of his legs.

Then again, said individual was pretty ruthless, so she guessed it wasn’t undeserved. But, it’s as they say, there are some fates worse than death, and she’d say being crippled would be one of them.

Don’t get her wrong, she had zero care for this body. It was just another skin suit. But that didn’t mean the pain didn’t transfer to her.

Kuin was attached to her flesh suit’s brain, meaning any pain waves that went off transferred to her, and vice versa. She knew that the moment Moonscent was done with Stendhal, and now that Moonscent knew what her flesh suit’s face looked like, she would be next.

That meant that she could lurk around Aldera without being spotted.

At least, not physically.

“Well, I could just have a few of my children fly about… It’s not like he’ll know the difference between my regular bees and natural bees…” Kuin reasoned, smirking. She loved it when she had genius ideas—even if it was just basic reasoning.

It wasn’t like she was akin to The Rat. She was just a bee given a Quirk, not made hyper-intelligent and further increased that intelligence by being given an intelligence Quirk.

In a way, she envied Nedzu.

He got it easy, in her opinion.

Her entire hive was experimented with, not just herself. Technically, she could replaced at any time, but the consciousness would remain the same.

At the end of the day, Kuin Hachisuka was just a face to a name. Just how she lived within human shells, the Queen Bee could be different each time, and her mind would still wind up being the same.

Say what one will about The Boogeyman's doctor and his team, but they were extremely smart, and just about the only humans who she respected—which wasn’t exactly a good thing, because the more she respected someone the more she wanted to be them. Too bad they were smelly old men.  

Up ahead, there was an apartment building that Kuin had taken up residence. It was where she was switch hosts and leave the ones she was done with to either rot or she’d have her children eat.

Kuin specifically lived on the fifth floor, and no one else was any wiser, primarily because the only smell that came out of the apartment was the smell of honey.

After all, bees were just that.

Bees.

And bees made honey.

Honey smelt sweet. Which covered up the smell of death and decay.

One day, she would spread her bees so far spread that all of Japan would be one massive hive~!

And, better yet, she would have the boogeyman under her control.

She would be unstoppable!

“What do you guys think?” Kuin spoke out to the pair of corpses that sat at the table, propped up by a few bees taking residence within, rocking their heads back and forth in agreement. A dark chuckle escaped Kuin’s lips. “Well, of course you agree. What child doesn’t agree with their parents?”

Although, there was the issue of Moonscent.

But he wasn’t important. He was a fun prospect to mess with, but as a real threat? He wasn’t much.

Besides, what exactly could some pathetic, small child do to her?

That, and she knew exactly who Moonscent was.

Izuku Midoriya. That was the true identity of Moonscent. The only thing she needed now was to find out where he lived, and that wouldn’t be too difficult to do.

So, really, if he tried anything?

She’d simply find where he lived and kill his family in their sleep and steal everything as an act of revenge.  

[XXXX]

“Oh, my sweet baby boy!” Inko cried out as Izuku tried to push away from the overbearingness of his mother. “I was so worried!” Inko cried, squeezing Izuku tighter as Eraserhead stood in their doorway, leaning against the frame, his expression neutral.

Inko had been drop-dead petrified when she couldn’t find Izuku anywhere in the house. She called the local precinct, but all they were useful for was further worrying her about him being potentially kidnapped.

That was why she was relieved to have Eraserhead show up with her precious baby boy in hand, who looked more annoyed than anything. “Thank you so much, Eraserhead! Oh, how can I repay you? Do you want money? I can give you some food, too? You look tired, if you really need a place to lay your head I can—”

“It’s fine, appreciate the offer but I’m busy,” Eraserhead interrupted, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face. He glanced over at Izuku, a smirk on his face. “You’ve got quite the caring mom, problem child.”

“Where was he, anyway?” Inko asked, keeping Izuku close as Eraserhead adjusted himself, standing up straight as he fixed his scarf.

“Naruhata.”

“NARUHATA?!” Inko exclaimed, looking over to Izuku with wide eyes. “Izuku?! How did you get over there!”

“I walked.”

“You walked?!”

“Yes.”

“Anyway,” Eraserhead said, getting Inko’s attention again. “We found him poking and prodding at a crime scene. He didn’t tamper with anything, but we did give him a warning. That aside, you need to keep a closer eye on your kid.”

“Yes, sir. I won’t let it happen again,” Inko said, before looking at Izuku with a disappointed look in her eyes. “Come on Izuku. I know you’re smarter than this.”

Izuku said nothing, his expression one of pure neutrality as Eraserhead sighed.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ve got to go back on patrol. Have a good rest of your evening,” and with that, Eraserhead left, closing the door behind him, leaving Inko and Izuku by themselves. After a few more seconds passed, Inko let go of Izuku, stood up, and crossed her arms.

“No more running off at night.”

“Mom—”

“No. I mean it. Once it hits 10:00 PM, you’re not to leave home. If you do, I’ll take away all your books and you’ll lose TV privileges for a month. Do you understand me, young man?”

Izuku grumbled, saying nothing. For a moment, Inko felt bad.

Izuku was a naturally curious boy. He tended to get lost in thought, so it wasn’t all that farfetched to say that he walked from Musutafu to Naruhata. Even if it was a few hours away, he had been away for a while.

But even still, for him to have said nothing about leaving when he did. It was incredibly irresponsible. Izuku never usually did something like that.

Not unless he was hiding something.

“Izuku. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“No.”

“Izuku,” Inko gained a sternness to her tone, but if Izuku was hiding something, he wasn’t giving any leeway. “If I were to search your room, would I find anything I shouldn’t.”

“No.”

“Even if I were to go and do that right now?”

“Yes.”

Inko shook her head, and went to Izuku’s room. She half expected him to stop her, but all he did was walk over to the fridge and grab a blood bag. She supposed he hadn’t had any today.

When Inko entered Izuku’s room, it was just as it had been every other time that she had been in there. Bookshelf filled with books and journals, a dresser filled with nothing but various clothing. His closest was mostly empty save for a few boxes filled with paper and rough drafts for his manga, and it wasn’t as if his laptop could be checked seeing as it was still being repaired at the technology store in the inner city.

Inko even went the extra mile and checked underneath his bed, having used her Quirk to do so. She had been using it on increasingly heavier things to see if she could get it to lift heavier stuff. She was starting to get back pain and she didn’t want to have to bend over as much as she used to.

She searched the entire room from ceiling to floor, and found nothing unordinary. When she walked out of his bedroom, she walked past him, staring at his phone with a glare in his eye. Using her Quirk, Inko took his phone from his hand, breaking him out of his stupor to find that she was re-reading over messages.

>Nakime: Yo, dude, I’ve been trying 2 reach u 4 ever!

Apologies. I had my phone shut off. <

>Nakime: Were u on 1 of ur “walks”?                                                                                                                                     

                                                                                                          When you put it like that it sounds like
                                                                                                                    I’m doing something criminal. <

>Nakime: …

>Nakime: Well, it feels like it.

>Nakime: Where were u anyway?

[Typing….] <

“Can I have my phone back, mom?” Izuku asked as Inko sighed. Reluctantly, she handed Izuku his phone, staring at her with that same neutral gaze that always had on, before looking back at his phone to continue talking to Nakime.

Inko shook her head and walked to her bedroom, got changed into sleepwear, and sat on the edge of  her bed as she stared at the floor, her mind wondering to places that they hadn’t since Izuku had been a tyke.  

A part of Inko was frustrated with how… placid he seemed.

Izuku had always been emotionally stunted. While she would never admit it to anyone, she had always been creeped out by it. That wasn’t to say it changed anything between her and her son, but when she saw more parents with their kids, their kids are smiling, laughing, running around and having fun.

But Izuku?

Izuku wasn’t like that.

Izuku stayed indoors most of the time, and on the odd occasion that he did leave the house—outside of going to school—it was hanging out with that troublesome Nakime girl.

Then, of course, his tendency to never sleep.

Most children—scratch that, most people slept at least eight hours a day. Those that didn’t either had an energy Quirk that kept them awake longer, and even then, they still had to sleep.

Ever since Izuku was an infant, he had never closed his eyes to sleep. At first, the nurses at the hospital thought it was some kind of injury in his brain, which was when they discovered the multiple hearts and brains.

That was what the doctors chalked up his unwillingness to sleep to. Because of the amount of brains and hearts in his body, to them, the amount of circulation and refreshing of his blood and the constant firing of neurons had to have been the reason behind him not sleeping.

In other words, he never ran out of energy.

Inko knew that her little Izuku was never going to be normal. But a part of her wish he would just pretend to be.

Then again, Izuku had gone on record saying that he hated pretending to be something he wasn’t.

Which… was odd, because whenever Izuku went to the store with her he would always hang around the girls section of clothing isles. Always asking for girl clothing on top of boy clothing. Inko had asked him about it before, but Izuku never gave her an answer.

For a while, Inko was worried that her son might’ve actually been a daughter trapped in the body of a boy—worried that Izuku might have been Transgender.

Not that Inko would have been upset with that, but the mental anguish of that put on a person was bad enough as is. Inko knew someone who was Transgender, but they took their life in high school due to all the bullying and the less-than-accepting nature of their parents.

And so, Izuku had numerous styles of clothing, both boy and girl, and he would interchange between them from time to time while at home and only sometimes in public, but never at school.

Worries and concerns aside, it only further went to show just how not normal Izuku was. That wasn’t even mentioning the successful Manga he had been writing since he was nine years old. Sure, it wasn’t making a lot of money, but it didn’t need to. The fact that he had a foothold in the manga industry in such a competitive market—and in the romance genre of all genre’s—was insane to her.

She was proud of Izuku.

But, in the same breath, she was also concerned.

Inko had finally gotten an answer out of her estranged family. It took them six years to finally respond, but they did by way of letter.

To make a very lengthy letter short, no one in their families history had ever had the same type of Quirk as Izuku.

No one, but a man by the name of Muzan Kibutsuji.

But, there was just one small problem….

Muzan Kibutsuji was not only long dead, but had been dead since the Taisho Era, an era before that of Quirks were even thought to exist, which either meant that this Muzan Kibutsuji was the first human to ever have a Quirk, or her family was lying to her.

Furthermore, her family refused to explain any further details regarding Muzan, saying he was a forbidden topic in the clan, but that if she were smart, that she would find some way to put down Izuku before, and she was quoting them directly, “he becomes a danger to all of humanity.”

Needless to say she tore up the letter and kept the pieces in the trash.

The utter gall of her family to tell her that her child was going to be a danger?! After they abandoned her, now they were trying to control her life? It made her want to scream!

But, she ignored it.

She ignored them just as much as they ignored her.

Besides, the idea of her son being some kind of emanant threat to humanity was not only unreasonable, but completely insane. Sure, Izuku might not have been normal, but he wasn’t some super villain lying in wait.

Not her son.

Her son was good.

Her son would never even think of hurting someone.

…Right?

With that concerning thought, Inko laid her head down on the pillows, closed her eyes, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

[Ending Song: Last Dance – By: Eve]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: Violence/バイオレンス by: QUEEN BEE]

[Volume 2 – Chapter 1: The Sun Rises in The East]

Two months.

It had been two months since Izuku had dawned the moniker of Moonscent, and thusly, two months since he had been to Naruhata. He had kept his word to his mother, albeit begrudgingly, to not go out at night past 10:00 pm.

He would admit to only himself that he missed the thrill of hunting villains. It gave him an outlet for all of his… less than appealing thoughts.

Izuku Midoriya was a troubled boy. Barely even twelve years old, and yet with a palpable urge to bring harm unto others. A very easily repressed urge, mind you, and one he had fed by playing the role of Moonscent.

But, due to his lack of playing the part, his thoughts and desires were left to curl into themselves and spill over during his regular life.

If Izuku had been a lesser individual, he would have allowed for those thoughts to spill over. Thankfully, he had more restraint.

However, just because he had not played the part of Moonscent in a long while, that did not mean that he had given up on perfecting his fighting capabilities. If anything, this bit of downtime gave him a chance to hone his skills.

The sound of metal clashing against metal reverberated throughout a clearing in the forested park within the city of Musutafu. Metal scraping against metal, creating small sparks as sharp edges collided. Speed mixed with precision combining to create an almost work of art.

Tanto met carving knife at accelerated speeds as blurs of green and an almost dirty blonde clashed back and forth, each keeping up pace with one another almost to a tee. Golden yellow eyes met crimson red, each with their own look of emotion—one a furious excitement while the other was a reserved calm.

It all came to a head when Izuku's Tanto was able to slip past Himiko Toga's carving knife and land a small, shallow cut just below Himiko's eye, prompting Izuku to leap back and sheath his Tanto on his hip, causing Himiko to pout, shoulders sagging as she came to a halt.

"Jeez, Izu-kun! That stung!" Himiko whined, waving her arms up and down like a petulant child. Of course, it was all in jest—Izuku knew that all too well—as Himiko smiled. "That was fun, we should do that again!"

"Not right now," Izuku said, sighing as Himiko put her knife in a pouch she had strapped to her left thigh, before sitting down cross-legged in front of Izuku, still pouting with her arms crossed.

What was there to say about Himiko Toga? Well, for starters, Izuku had known her since he was ten, and she twelve. Now, he was twelve, and she was fourteen. Himiko wore her hair down to chin length, and she typically wore a white button-up shirt with a short dark blue mini-skirt that stopped just above the thighs, underneath which she wore a pair of shorts and black stockings and dark brown Mary Janes.

Her golden yellow eyes had the same slit-like pupils as Izuku, though they were fair less intense, and way more relaxed—less like a panther, but not like a cat like Nakime. It was more like a mix between a cougar and a mountain lion. Gentle, yes, but if provoked searingly deadly.

As for Izuku, he was dressed in a pink girls tank top—the kind with the thin straps instead of the thick shoulder bands that was typical for men's tank tops—alongside a pair of jean shorts that stopped just above the knees and a pair of white stockings that covered the rest of his legs, completed by a pair of black slip-on shoes.

His usual messy green and black hair was brushed down and tied up at the back into a low-hanging ponytail. His claws were also painted a bright red, courtesy of Himiko, who had matching nails, although hers had hearts painted on them as well.

Out of all of Izuku's friends, Himiko was easily the strangest. But, Izuku saw beauty in that absurdity. She was wild, untamed, and a breath of fresh air compared to the others at his school. Honestly, he wished that she would just transfer to Aldera instead of that shoddy prep-school her parents made her attend.

Reaching into his back pocket, Izuku pulled out a bag of blood and tossed it to her. Himiko caught it, eyes sparkling and a giddy smile taking up her visage. "Make sure your parents don't confiscate it this time. I'm only able to give one up per month without it completely messing up my diet."

"Thank you, Izu-kun," Himiko said, her tone genuine. "You have no idea how much this means for me."

"I think I do," Izuku replied before pulling out a smaller blood bag—a sample bag that he had told his mom that he was giving to Himiko when in reality he had always planned to give her the larger one.

Himiko's parents were… not the best. Oh, sure, they kept a roof over head, gave her all the clothes and food she could ever ask for, but when it came to her actual needs. Her blood-related needs to keep her sane, they completely neglected her and even went as far as to prevent her access to any kind of blood.

Sharp objects were prevented from being given to her in fear that she might stab a bird or rabbit or god forbid another person. She wasn't allowed to watch or read anything blood-related, just in case, and she was never allowed to be wild self in public or even at home.

Her parents reasoning?

"Because it's rude."

Rude?

No.

The only thing "rude" in that scenario were the parents repressing their child, and it made Izuku's blood boil.

The only time she was allowed to have any kind of blood was when Izuku gave her one of his blood bags, or when she was staying with her Grandpa who, while not actually related to her family in any blood related way, had adopted Himiko's mother at a young age.

From what Himiko told Izuku of her grandpa, or Grandpa Sushi as she nicknamed him, was that he was a shut-in. He never went out during the day and only ever came out of his apartment at night. He was a chronic painter who only ever painted a single woman in various ways, with that woman Himiko had said that her Grandpa considered "the greatest lady to have ever lived, and died far too young." It led Izuku to believe it might have been his wife or a lover that he had when this "Grandpa Sushi" was younger.

That aside, as of recent, he had convinced Himiko into becoming something of a sparring partner to help him practice his skills with his tanto and overall ability with a blade.

His primarily reasoning for doing this was because Himiko herself was well versed in using knives. Why? Because her parents, for as lousy as they were, had her take Kenjutsu lessons as well as acrobatics. After all, the Togas were an affluent family, thusly leaving them open to attacks. So, of course, they would want their only child to know how to protect oneself.

It also didn't help that her grandfather had expressly demanded them to do such. At least, that was what Himiko had told Izuku, so he was keen to believe her.

Of course, Himiko was confused as to why he wanted her to help him, and so he told her it was because he had a vested interest in learning how to use a sword in combat, but his mother nor he himself have enough money to afford it.

Himiko, though, didn't want to teach him Kenjutsu. Primarily because she saw it as "too rigid" and "not fun" so instead she taught him better ways at using short blades for fighting and how to make use of his naturally gifted speed, reflexes, and physical strength alongside his blade rather than using them separately.

As the two sat across from one another, admiring nature around them, Izuku sipped on the sample bag he was holding onto, meanwhile Himiko was moving the blood over to a canteen—a method to hide the blood from her parents, and one that Izuku had suggested to her when he first started giving her blood bags.

"Hey, Izu-kun," Himiko began as Izuku raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"My parents wanted to meet you," Himiko said as Izuku blinked.

"Huh…?"

"They… wanted to thank you for being my friend. I, um… don't have many of those, so when they found out I had a friend—a real friend—they… uh… kinda got excited," Himiko explained, an embarrassed blush on her face as she scratched behind the back of her neck. "They… also wanted you to stay for dinner…"

That was a problem, on account of the fact that Izuku did not eat food—no, not just that, but he physical could not due to his Quirk's bizarre draw back.

And considering her parents issue with Himiko drinking blood, they more than likely would not appreciate Izuku, her friend, also consuming blood.

Still, this could pose for an opportunity to learn more about Himiko's home life. What it was like, and how best to help her.

For as aloof as Izuku was, he was not that aloof to not recognize abuse for what it was. Even if it was not a physical, visible form of it, preventing someone from using or doing something that would be otherwise necessary to keep peace of mind was mental and emotional abuse, alongside child endangerment. His run in with the police after the Stendhal Incident provoked him into learning everything there was about his country's laws.

"This could potentially be a blessing in disguise," Izuku said, prompting Himiko to tilt her head in confusion.

"How? They won't let me hang out with you if you're like me!"

"Who's to say that they need to know?" Izuku countered as Himiko, now even more confused, looked at him as if he was speaking a completely different language. "I can simply tell them that my mother has put me on a very specific diet, and because of that, I am not allowed to accept food from others."

"I mean, that could work… But, I don't see how this is a blessing," Himiko said as Izuku smirked.

"Himiko, you underestimate me and my plans. Put your faith in me, and I promise you this will all work out in the end."

Himiko blinked, still just as confused as before, but the confidence in Izuku's tone convinced her to roll with it. She had known Izuku for two years, and in those two years, he had drastically improved her quality of life.

If Izuku believed he could continue to do that, then she'd trust him.

After all, trusting him had never backfired before.

"Okay, Izu-kun, I'll believe in you," Himiko said, ruffling his hair as Izuku blinked, seemingly taken aback. Himiko giggled at his puzzled expression, and then, in a rare scene that Himiko had never seen before ever since meeting him, Izuku smiled.

And what a radiant smile it was.

It was as if he was at peace with not just himself, but with everything around him.

He…

For a split second, Himiko could swear he looked far older than he actually was. The sun broke out over top of the clearing. It's rays shined down on him, and his shadow extended out to a tree coated in the sun, and in that split second, his shadow did not match his appearance.

His shadow looked like that of a man wearing a fedora, hand resting on his face, and staring forward—at her—but with no other details it was hard to decern the intent.

And then, it changed to a regular blob of nothingness, like most shadows.

It felt so insignificant.

It felt so surreal.

And yet…

Why did it feel like she just made a deal with The Devil?

"Himiko?" Izuku's voice cut through her thoughts as she blinked, staring down at Izuku, who's head was now tilted and a curious gleam rested in his otherwise piercing eyes. "When do they want me to be there?"

"O-Oh! Um, this weekend. Ya know, 'cause school?"

"Okay."

"So… you wanna run it back?" Himiko asked, and for a moment, Izuku went to decline, before changing his mind, stood up, unsheathed his tanto, prompting Himiko to smile ear to ear.

Unbeknownst to the two of them, however, a single, lone bee hovered just in the tree clearing, silently buzzing overhead, before quickly leaving the forest clearing to return to its hive.

[XXXX]

Katsuki wasn't normally one for remembering things about people. Hell, he had a hard enough time remembering names, or caring about remembering names for that matter. So tiny details never really mattered to him. Especially about extras and losers.

But, no matter how hard he tried to cast it out of his mind, his fight with that freak kept haunting him.

Katsuki hated him. Loathed him utterly. Always finding ways to make a mockery of him and looking down on him as if he was some lesser lifeform. It really pissed Katsuki off. It was why he constantly put that freak in his place.

So, when he showed up to the gates and demanded to fight, at first, Katsuki waved him off, not wanting to waste his breath.

Then, he taunted him, and being easily angered boy Katsuki was, he took the bait and proceeded to get his ass beat. Not to say he didn't land a few good hits of his own, and if that was all there was to it, he wouldn't have cared.

But, whereas Katsuki walked away with a sprained ankle and cracked rib that he refused to tell the hag how he got, the freak walked away unscathed.

Which was impossible, because he had popped him the stomach with a point blank explosion.

Katsuki wasn't a fool. He knew just how strong his explosions were. He could easily destroy walls or shake whole buildings if he really wanted to. It took an immense amount of control to prevent even the tiniest explosion from breaking something.

So, when he fired off an explosion strong enough to blow up a wall point blank into the freaks chest, at first, he was worried he killed the freak. After all, he still wanted to be a hero, and if he killed someone that would shatter his chances before he even had one.

But, when the freak got up without so much as a bruise of a scrape, and responded by knocking him flat on his ass, to say Katsuki was caught off guard and immensely confused was beyond an understatement.

In fact, Katsuki was pretty sure that even some D-List Villains and Heroes wouldn't have been able to handle an explosion like that—which was saying something since he had just turned thirteen a few days ago.

So, for someone who said he only had a hyperintelligence Quirk to not only have taken the hit, shrugged it off, and hit back with someone that felt like he got run over by a truck, but to also have not taken any form of damage from it?

Something wasn't adding up.

Either the freak was lying about his Quirk, or he had been training.

But training for what?

What could a freak like him be training for?

Unless…

"He's trying to be a hero… He's trying to steal my spotlight!" Katsuki thought, sneering as small crackles and smoke bellowed from his palm, causing a few people around him to startle and keep their distance.

Currently, Katsuki was walking to the store to get some shrimp and rice for the hag. She wanted to make shrimp-fried rice for dinner, and they were out of both shrimp and rice.

Personally, Katsuki thought it was stupid. To decide what to eat without making sure you have the ingredients was just stupid. But, then again, the hag was as much an airhead as the dunce so frankly he didn't know what he was expecting.

As he walked, head down and hands in his pockets, Katsuki kept to himself as he journeyed to the store. The hag made it clear that he didn't need to pick a fight with random people, and his anger issues made it difficult.

By the time he got to the store, and by the time got what he came for, he had nearly popped three blood vessels dealing with stupid people that, when he left the store he barely noticed the person he bumped into.

And it really set him off.

"For fucksake!" Katsuki roared as he dropped the grocery bag. The person he bumped into grunted, and when Katsuki turned to meet the person who he ran into, his scowl stayed the same as it had before.

Orange hair with bangs covering her left eye wearing a post-medical patch, a bright green varsity jacket with a bee insignia on the left side, a white dress shirt, a short blue skirt, and black and orange knee-high socks with brown Mary Janes.

"Watch where yer goin, ya dumb bitch!" Katsuki spat as the bee bitch smirked, revealing sharp teeth.

"Well, aren't you interesting."

"Fuck off," Katsuki growled, turning to leave, but before he could, the bee bitch grabbed his shoulder, and for a split second, Katsuki considered blasting her into the stratosphere as he turned to face her again, but stopped when he saw the gleam of mischief in her uncovered eye.

"Now, where's the fun in that~? Say, you happen to know a guy by the name of Midoriya Izuku?" the bee bitch asked as Katsuki narrowed his eyes. How did she know about the freak?

"Why?"

"Well, let's just say he's played with my heart a little bit, and I want to get some revenge. 'Sides, I was passing by when he kicked your ass at that crappy school you two go to. Figured you might want in on this."

On the one hand, he wanted to call her stupid for getting tricked by that freak. But, on the other hand, the idea of getting pay back on said aforementioned freak sounded like a wonderful idea.

After all, the smug bastard deserved it and then some.

Katsuki brushed the bee bitch's hand off his shoulder before giving a toothy smirk of his own. "Fuck yeah. What'cha thinkin'?"

"I can't tell ya yet," the bee bitch replied, before pulling out her phone. "Gimme ya contact information, and I'll tell when I fully put my plan together. It's gonna take place in Naruhata, so make sure ya got some free time, and then you and me will have our fun~!"

After exchanging contact info, the two went on their separate ways.

But little did Katsuki know he had walked right into a trap, blinded by his hatred, he was unable to realize the massive mistake that he had made, and the consequences therein.

[Ending Song: No title – by: Reol]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: Violence/ バイオレンス  by: QUEEN BEE]

[Volume 2 – Chapter 2: Revelations and Epiphany's]

Iwao wasn't one to mince words, so he meant this in as sincerely as possible.

Moonscent was insane.

Not insane in the "needs to be locked up for his and societies own good" insane. But insane to the fact that not only did he get his head cut off and come back up from it. But also because it didn't seem to effect him much.

Of course, for a child, there's a lot of red flags there. The kid basically died, and that might have been why he hadn't popped up for the last two months. Still though, he had to give the kid one thing, and that was the amount of determination he saw from the kid was intense.

Then again, children weren't exactly pessimists, no matter how fancy they talked.

Iwao was currently at Koichi's, sitting on the floor, drinking beer and watching TV as he usually tended to do. It wasn't out of disrespect to the kid. If anything, he just wanted to keep an eye on him, and for good reason.

Ever since the Stendhal Incident, Koichi had been down in the dumps. Still doing vigilante work alongside Pop and him, but there was a noticeable tension in his posture now. He barely survived the encounter alongside that Soga punk, and Soga was still in the hospital due to the damage to his diaphragm and, on top of that, some of the trigger getting into his lungs and really tearing it up.

What made things worse was that Stendhal was still out there.

He was not captured.

He had not vanished.

And as recently as yesterday, a few more bodies covered in slashes and cuts proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Then, there was also all that hub-bub with that Captain Celebrity fool, alongside that Makoto woman—the annoying detective's sister.

Don't get him wrong, Makoto was a good person. But the fact that she worked for that Captain Celebrity guy really rubbed him the wrong way. He was making a mockery of heroes, and caused more damage than he protected. All muscle, no brains, and let the people who worked for him sweep issues under the rug.

It really, really aggravated him.

Fools aside, in about a week and a half's time, there was going to be an event sponsored by Captain Celebrity for the Naruhata branch of the Marukane Department Store. Pop was going to be a performer, and it had been eating her up.

Usually, in times like this, a supportive figure would help. He wasn't the best at that, though.

Really, he wasn't, ask Tamao for her opinion on that.

Well, that would've been a possibility…

If she hadn't run away.

To make a very long story short, Iwao and Tamao gotten into a heated argument, something that was totally his fault by the way, and it resulted in her running away. Not too long after that, his wife and her mother got hospitalized, and since then he had been on the hunt to try and find her.

Seven months and twenty four days spent tirelessly looking for Tamao.

Seven months and twenty four days spent failing to find her.

Seven months and twenty four days spent chasing false leads and ghosts.

It had been eating away at him for a long time. How he failed Tamao, and was continuing to do so every second that she wasn't back home. God forbid something disastrous having happened to her, like getting kidnapped or worse….

He held out hope, though.

He had to.

His personal failing's aside, Pop had been cut-up badly by Stendhal, leaving her with more than a handful of scars across her torso, her left shoulder, just under her right eye and across her forehead, and a couple on her legs and one across the palm of her hand. Koichi too, but it was mostly along his back, seeing as he took the blow low to the ground.

It really messed with Pop's confidence. To the point where she nearly gave up street performing, had it not been for Koichi giving her a pep-talk. It seemed to work, or at least enough to where she was willing to accept playing at the event.

As for him? He wasn't too badly banged up. In fact, the only thing that bothered him was being cheapened out of a good fight. Made to become paralyzed, all because Stendhal was running out of stamina. Young people were supposed to have a pep in their step after getting the snot kicked out of them. Though, he supposed the guy's stomach was torn open, so he could give him some slack in that regard.

But that was beside the point.

Stendhal needed to be put away for good, and, if possible, he could figure out what made a guy like him be able to block several of his full force punches, and figure out why that sword of his didn't shatter upon being hit by him either.

"Yo, master," Koichi spoke up as Iwao looked over his shoulder.

"What's up, kid?"

"Have you heard anything from Moonscent?"

"Nah, why?" Iwao questioned as Koichi hummed.

"I… I just wanted to know if he was doing okay. I-I mean… you said he lived, right? He got his head cut off, too… That kid's probably messed up because of it, right?" Koichi said, concern weaved into his voice as Iwao rumbled, taking another swig of beer. It was earthy, it was devoid of any real flavour, and it dried his mouth out but damn if it wasn't good.

"He seemed fine to me when he got back up," Iwao replied, adjusting where he sat before continuing. "Though, I get what ya mean. My guess is that his parents found out what he was doing and are keeping him locked at home. I don't blame 'em. If I was his parent, I'd—"

There was a knock at the door, which was a little on the confusing side, because Pop was already here, and Makoto said she was busy. Speaking of Pop, she poked out from the curtains that she was hiding behind—practicing, she had said—tilting her head with a confused look in her eyes.

"Which one of you gonna get that? I'm still applying make-up," Pop said as Koichi sighed, standing up from the chair he was sitting on and walked over to the door. Upon opening it, he blinked in confusion, staring down at a child with… dark green and black hair. In his right hand was a small bag, before Koichi could say anything, the little kid walked past him, went into this apartment's bathroom, and came back out dressed in a now purple yukata with dragon iconography and a black oni mask with his hair kept up in a bun with two hair-pins keeping it in place.

"M-Moonscent?! How'd you find out where I lived?!" Koichi exclaimed as Moonscent huffed.

"I had Pop-step give me your contact information, and from there, I tracked your IP address, which led me to your house. I had no idea you lived on a roof. It must be rather lonely without these two here."

"Gah, Pop?!"

"What!? Better to remain in contact, right?"

"Regardless," Moonscent cut the two off from arguing, which saved Iwao the headache. "I was able to re-gather my supplies. Granted, I needed to get a new Tanto, which has been frustrating. However, I figured because it was my fault I got all of you injured, I owed you all something. It might not be much, but…"

Moonscent then proceeded to pull out a box, and inside that box there was a seemingly home-made cake that said "I'm Sorry" scrawled across the top of it written in Kanji.

"You… brought a cake?" Pop said, blinking as Moonscent adjusted his mask to stop covering his face before putting the cake on the table and removing the plastic lid.

"For all of you. My Quirk prevents me from eating regular food. Literally. I vomit if I try," Moonscent replied as Iwao barked out a laugh, confusing Moonscent. "What's so funny?"

"Kid, you really didn't have to get us anything. We expect to get banged up every now and again. It's part of the job," Iwao said, ruffling the kids hair, before walking over to the kitchen, grabbing a knife, cut a slab of cake, put it on a plate, grabbed a fork and dug in. "Oh? Chocolate and coconut? Nice."

"Aw, shucks. I'm allergic to coconut…" Pop pouted as Moonscent hummed.

"I can get you something later. Do you like ice cream?"

"Do I ever!"

Iwao watched from the spot where he was eating the cake as Pop and Moonscent talked about whatever it was that kids their age talked about. Seeing Pop smile and be genuinely happy was a nice change of pace. Her being down in the dumps and upset really off set everyone's mood, seeing as she was the morale support of the group.

Koichi got himself a slice of cake and sat adjacent to Iwao, the two sitting in silence with the other two's conversation as white noise. It was only when Moonscent's stomach rumbled rather loudly, giving everyone pause as even he looked confused.

"You okay, kid?" Iwao asked, eyebrow raised as Moonscent nodded.

"Yes… But, I shouldn't be hungry. I already had…" Moonscent mumbled before frowning. "I suppose I am growing still, so my appetite is bound to expand over time. But still…"

"You said you can't eat normally. What do you eat?" Koichi asked as Moonscent sighed.

"Due to my Quirk's drawback, I can only consume blood. Human blood," Moonscent said as Pop blanched, recoiling as he spoke.

"Huh?!"

"Relax. I get my blood from Vlad King's Blood Drive. It was made to help those with Blood-related Quirks like Vlad King's, all of which is ethically sourced from donators across the globe," Moonscent added as Iwao took another bite of the cake, swallowing soon after to speak.

"And what do you normally have in a day?"

"A single two pint bag a day. I've been able to make do with that for the last six years. This, however, has never happened before." As Izuku said that, Koichi wordlessly stood up, walked over to the kitchen, grabbed a glass then a knife, before hovering his hand over the cup and before anyone could interject, Koichi slide the knife across his palm as blood poured into the cup.

"Koichi!" Pop exclaimed as the cup quickly filled to the top. Once it did, Koichi positioned his hand just right side up to stop the blood from pouring, calmly walked over a cabinet, pulled out gaze and an absorption pad, and tightly wound it together, putting pressure on the wound and stopping the bleeding.

"You… really did not have to do that," Moonscent said as Koichi smiled.

"Well, you brought us cake, right? It's only right if I do something for you, yeah?"

"But—"

"It's like master said. We expect to get hurt out there. You don't have to give us apology cake because we got hurt trying to help you," Koichi continued, hissing at the pain swelling in his hand. Moonscent bowed deeply, lowering his head in respect before walking over to the glass of blood, took it, sipped it, and when he did, his eyes widened.

It was at that moment that Izuku had an epiphany.

Fresh blood… was leagues better than days old, potentially weeks old blood.

It's flavour was more rich.

It's texture was smooth rather than slow and thick.

It flowed like a proper drink. Like water, and it went down just as easy.

Greedily, he downed the whole cup in just a few gulps, and when finished, he exhaled, his pupils had dilated and the veins in his face, hands, and arms had surged.

More.

He needed more.

He needed more fresh blood.

He had never felt this level of hunger before….

It was almost…

Unsatiable.

"Um… Moonscent?" Pop-Step's voice snapped him out of his trance as he blinked. "Are you… okay? You looked like you were about to have an aneurysm." As she said that, her voice came out with the same amount of worry an older sister would have toward their younger brother.

Izuku cupped the side of his head, confusion quickly washing over him. "I'm fine…" Izuku muttered, trying to pull himself together. What was that? Why did he suddenly feel more hungry than he ever had before?

Why did he react that way to fresh blood?

And why did he want more of it?

So many questions, but no answers.

"I didn't hurt you, did I? M-My blood, I mean…" Koichi said as Izuku brushed his concerns off with a wave of his hand.

"No… No, if anything you… helped me. Words cannot express my gratitude, Crawler. If you excuse me, I'm going to take my leave…" Izuku said, straightening his mask and leaving the rooftop home. He was quick to vacate the area, leaping from the rooftop and quickly making his way through the backstreets of Naruhata.

It was taking all of his self control to restrain himself from…

From…

From what?

What was happening to him?

Why was feeling this way?

A small, animalistic growl seeped past his lips as he stopped in his tracks, standing in one of the many alleyways of Naruhata. He stumbled forward a few paces, pulling aside his mask as he bared his teeth. The ends of his teeth pulsed, and his claws twitched with barely kept back restraint.

In the back of his mind, he tried desperately to regain control of himself, but after tasting that fresh blood, he found it extremely difficult.

He needed—no, demanded more.

Snickering echoed out behind him as Izuku's straightened out. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a lizard-looking individual standing next to a larger looking one with a candlewick on the top of his head.

"Oh, hey! Ain't that the guy who saved Soga?" The lizard-looking guy said as the larger individual nodded.

"Yeah, it is. Hey! You! Thanks for saving our friend!" The larger man said as Izuku's eyes widened, still struggling to control himself.

Kill.

Devour.

Consume.

Izuku hissed, clutching the side of his head. No, why would he have those kinds of thoughts? Thoughts of killing, yes, he's had those thoughts before. But devouring people? Consuming flesh? Where was this coming from?

"Uh… dude? Are you okay?"

"You think he's on drugs?"

"Nah… He looks too young."

Izuku couldn't tell which one of them was talking, but he could hear their footsteps come closer. One of them was approaching his left whereas the other lingered further back. He couldn't tell which one was which.

He felt a hand grab his shoulder, and then….

In a blink of an eye…

There was a shout.

A scream.

Gurgling.

Running…

A thud, then a splat.

A shout.

The sound of cutting, slicing and tearing.

And then Izuku did… something. His jaw moved, he felt something in his mouth, but he didn't know what.

He sat there and did… whatever it was he did for a few minutes before getting up and going away. Only when he left where he had been and in a different section of the back streets did he regain control of himself and his faculties.

When Izuku looked down at himself, he realized he was covered in blood, or at least the front of his yukata was. There were a few splotches of blood on his mask, and his hands up to his knuckles were coated in the thick red substance.

He… wasn't hungry.

Panicked, Izuku looked over to where he had come, but he couldn't see much of anything aside from more back roads. He dared not reverse his steps, fearing what he'd find.

Whatever it was that had happened….

Hadn't happened.

He did not do what he thought he did.

Yeah… it was something else.

Someone else.

Izuku was not a murderer.

He was not…

He was not a monster.

Izuku bent over and tried to puke—to cleanse himself of what he had done, but no matter how much he heaved, nothing came out. He gripped at the wall, trying to force his body to discard of what he had put inside himself.

Minutes of trying to make himself puke.

Minutes of spewing up nothing but air and making the back of his throat burn and hurt.

Minutes of forcing something and nothing happening made the guilt that was building up in his head even worse.

Composing himself, Izuku shuddered, and he began to walk. He stumbled through alleyways, and on the way, he discarded of his yukata, throwing it in a dumpster alongside his mask. Those were the only things that had blood on them aside from his hands and the corners of his lips.

Despite the disgusting feeling welling up inside of him, he felt…

Stronger.

But it wasn't like when he drank from the blood bags.

If drinking blood added, say, for example, a point five enhancer to his strength. Consuming flesh—because that was what he did, he couldn't ignore that anymore and deny the truth—added a times two modifier.

Of course, the whole "modifier" talk was purely hypothetical. One simply could not quantify power with numbers and letters. It was merely a thing to be witnessed. To be experienced.

He couldn't tell anyone.

Not his mother.

Not Nakime.

Not Himiko.

Not anyone.

No one could know.

Izuku had no idea how long he had been walking for. All he knew was that as time went on, the blood on his hands crusted, which crumbled off his hand when he flexed his fingers.

By the time he realized he was standing across from his apartment building all the way back in Musutafu, it was when the sun was now high in the sky. His mother was away in Shinjuku with Manual for an annual meeting with sponsors and investors in The Normal Agency. She would not be home for a week and a half, at the minimum. Two weeks at worst.

That was why he had left to go do vigilantism when he decided to stop by at Crawler's.

Instead of protecting the innocent, he…

He…

He shut the memory out.

Their screaming faces.

The horror stretched on the large man's face.

The fear and anger in the lizard man's eyes.

School would be starting in just an hour. He needed a shower, and he needed to get dressed.

And that was exactly what he did.

Izuku had a shower, got dressed into his school uniform, then made his way to school with a heavy conscious, and conflicting emotions.

[Ending Song: No title – By: Reol]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: Violence/ バイオレンス  by: QUEEN BEE]

[Volume 2 – Chapter 3: Something Dark is Brewing]

Natsumi was what one might call a "people person." The exact opposite of an introvert. In fact, she made it a personal policy to befriend as many people as she could. After all, sometimes all it takes is a really good friend to save a life! Heck, that was why she met Midori!

Saving a life did not have to involve flying through the sky at ridiculous speeds, firing streams of searing flames at some arbitrary bad guy, or punching someone so hard their skeleton is an entirely differently country.

Some times, the only thing a person committing a crime could need is a conversation, a cup of chocolate milk, and a good snack. Some times, all they need is a hug or for someone to tell them that everything was going to be alright.

Not everything needed to become a spectacle.

Not everything needed to be a fight worthy of the ages.

And yet, that was what happened most of the time. Oh, sure, peaceful resolutions to villain attacks can happen, but most of the time it's a bunch of action packed, cinematic slop that makes no sense.

Well… no, it had to make sense, because that was what happened most of the time. Maybe it was her worldview that was wrong, but she'd like to think that there's good in everyone, even the "criminally insane" as some would say.

And it all seemed back from when she was younger.

When she was younger, around three years old, due to her have mutant aspects alongside her transformation Quirk, she was often bullied for looking different. Sure, there were kids who looked like her—having mutations to go alongside their Quirk—but even those people would pick on her because her mutations were basic, and not cool.

A lot of mean things were said. And, if Natsumi wasn't the bubbly, happy-go-lucky optimist that she had been for a majority of her life, there could have been a tragedy with her.

But, Natsumi wasn't like that. She always saw the good in those situations. That just meant that all those people who were bullying her weren't good people, so she could avoid them, and boy oh boy was Natsumi good at avoiding people.

Even back then, she was really good at getting away. It was almost like she was made for slinking in and out of places! Maybe that was why she was born with the ability to transform into a cat?

But even then, there were still days that the mean things those little kids would say would actually get to her, and it would really dampen her mood.

Thankfully, she wasn't alone.

During those days, her only respite was her older brother—he was Quirkless—and he would often give her the same advice every time she was having a particularly bad day.

Just smile through it.

Smile through the pain.

Endure.

Endure for as long as you can.

Because if you showed any amount of weakness, they would make it worse.

Endure and ignore.

Some would say that advice was cruel, and all it did would make things worse in and of itself. But, Natsumi didn't see it that way. She saw it as her brother trying to help her—and it did! It helped her a lot, actually. It got her past the first few years of elementary school, where she was then just ignored by everyone.

And anytime someone tried to pick on her?

Smile.

Endure.

Ignore.

She would repeat that in the back of her head as a mantra. It made Natsumi seem like a bulwark against bullies, and it garnered her a lot of attention. She made a lot of friends during that time, and it was made even better when she awakened to her Quirk.

Her older brother, Yutsuyo, was proud of her.

Yutsuyo was never proud of things often. He barely had the time to be proud with anything he did. But he was a wonderful writer and an amazing artist. He wanted to be a mangaka, and become super famous that way.

After all, even if he was Quirkless, he was her older brother.

Older brother's were meant to last…

But then, one day, Natsumi had walked downstairs late one night to get a cup of water, and her brother was crying on the couch. Natsumi didn't know why, but she tried to comfort him all the same. They sat down, watched their favourite TV show together, and Natsumi even got him his favourite candy from the super secret cupboard that she stored sweets in to hide from their parents.

That was when, for the first time, Yutsuyo smiled. A genuine, happy smile.

And then, he gave her a goal.

Yutsuyo told her that she should make a thousand friends. That way, those a thousand friends would be there for her whenever she needed them. Natsumi asked him why, to which Yutsuyo simply replied that "In case something bad happens to me, I want to know you're going to be protected."

What she hadn't known when Yutsuyo told her that, was that it was a subtle message to her.

A seven year old Natsumi just thought it was her older brother once again looking out for her.

But, oh how she was quickly made to look like a fool.

Because the very next day, when Natsumi was sent to go wake him up when he hadn't come down for breakfast that morning, she had been given a front row seat to watching him hang from the ceiling fan.

At the time, Natsumi had no idea what was happening.

But, deep down, she knew that it was bad.

The rest happened in a blur.

One minute, she was alone.

The next minute, she was sitting outside with her parents crying tears.

A funeral was held. Yutsuyo Nakime, seventeen years old, suicide.

There was no note.

There was no reason.

None of it really mattered in the end.

Her older brother had been taken away from her, and there was nothing that she could've done about it. But Natsumi didn't understand it.

She couldn't understand that it was Yutsuyo who took his own life, rather than some unseen villain being responsible for it. Because there was no way that Yutsuyo would do that to himself—let alone anyone else.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the last person in her life who would decide to walk away from it all.

Her father was the next to go.

She remembered nothing of his death. Not even his last words.

According to her mother, it involved her—not directly, but his reason for going out the way he did was because of her. It had nothing to do with her Quirk. It had nothing to do with anything that she had done.

But she had witnessed it.

It had made her cry, apparently.

And it took several weeks in a mental hospital with guidance counsellors to help her through it.

Somewhere along the way, she forgot what happened. So, she decided that it was for the best if she didn't remember.

Then, it was just her and her mom.

That was when she started to make true to Yutsuyo's final request. To make a thousand friends. After all, what kind of sister would she be to ignore his last request?

That was a year ago, and she was still only at three. No one really wanted to be her friend. She was too hyper, too frantic, and way too busy to do things with others.

That was what made her friendship with Midori even more special. Not only was he her first real friend, but he introduced her to Himi-chan and Saito-kun.

When Midori was busy, Himi-chan was always there to chat over the phone or hang out at the mall. Saito-kun was often busy with his father, so he wasn't available all the time, but that was neither here nor there. They hung out often enough, although maybe she wouldn't fully consider him a friend just yet.

Still, the point was made. She wasn't making good word on her promise to Yutsuyo, but then again, she had a long time to do it. It wasn't like she had to do it right here, right now. She was only thirteen, and had decades of time ahead of her.

That being said, another thing that Natsumi was really good at was being able to tell if someone was down in the dumps.

And that was why today, when she greeted Midori at the front of the school, she felt something was off about him.

Midori had two modes. He had super serious no fun time mode, and goof-off silly mode, the latter of which only really happened when it was just them alone by themselves, and even then Midori was still just as stone-faced, just with a bit more of an open, playful mind.

But today was… different.

When Midori showed up to school, he seemed… upset. Not just upset, but he looked… what was the word? Disgusted? Grossed-out? Like he saw something that made him feel bad and it stuck.

She tried greeting him the way she normally did, but he… didn't react.

And that was when Natsumi got a bad feeling that something really bad happened.

Not just something really bad, but something super duper omega bad.

Badder than bad.

But, no matter how much Natsumi tried to talk to Midori throughout the day, he just ignored her. Like she didn't exist. Even when she tugged his hair and poked at the back of his neck. Heck, she even hung upside in front of him at the playground, and he didn't even tell her to stop or else all her blood would rush to her head.

Right now, it was nearing the end of the day, and the only thing that Natsumi could think of was what could have possibly happened to make Midori all doom and gloom. She was barely even paying attention to what Mr. Kurosachi was saying, tapping her pen against her chin in thought—and she liked Mr. Kurosachi's lessons, so she usually paid attention to them all the time!

There weren't many things that affected Midori like that.

Did something bad happen to his mother? That would be awful…. She had never met Mrs. (Ms.?) Midoriya before, but from what Midori told her about his mother, she seemed to be nice. Better than some other parents she knew, but that was beside the point.

If something bad did happen to his mother, that would explain all the doom and gloom.

That was when the bell rang, bringing an end to the day. Mr. Kurosachi handed out homework as per usual, and dismissed everyone a few minutes. When she finished packing up her things at her desk, just as Natsumi was about to leave the classroom, her ears perked up as someone spoke near the back of the class about something that caught her attention.

"Did you hear? They found two half-eaten bodies in Naruhata the other day!"

"Wha~~~t! No way! You mean there's a cannibal in Japan now?!"

"Yeah, but you wanna know the crazy part? Some press leaks happened within the police station, and apparently, when they checked out the bodies, they couldn't find even a tiny bit of DNA!"

"Huh?! That makes no sense!

Natsumi stopped listening to the disturbing conversation her classmates were having, and decided to try and find Midori before he ran off again.

Turning into her cat form, Natsumi slinked through the halls, tail waving in the air as she ran alongside a small little backpack on her back—after all, anything she wore also shrunk when she turned into a cat, and the fur on her body represented her clothes.

She made it to the front gates just as Midori was about to leave, and when she saw him, a devious plan cooked up in her mind.

Natsumi circled around for a second, and then ran full speed ahead toward the brick wall. Then, she leapt up, landed on the flat part of the brick wall, then jumped again before turning back into her full form and landed specifically on his shoulders with her legs wrapped around his neck and her hands placed on his head.

Midori gasped in shock, nearly losing his balance as Natsumi cackled. It took everything Midori had to balance himself, and when he did, Natsumi took it a step further by smacking him on the side of the head and then jumping off his shoulders, flipping in the air, before landing in front of him; her gymnastics class with Himi-chan had been really paying off, it seemed.

Then, she inhaled deep, and as soon as she did opened her mouth again… "YOU BIG DUMMY!"

Midori blinked, seemingly taken aback as Natsumi jabbed a finger at his chest. "You've been ignoring me all day, and I've been trying to talk to you and you haven't said anything! I even asked if something was wrong but no, you didn't tell you were all upset and sad! Why, I oughta drag you down to pool and make you do laps!"

"N-Nakime—"

"Don't you Nakime me, mister!"

"B-But—"

"But nothing! We're going to my place now, and there's no getting out of it!"

And then, not giving Midori any time to explain or even protest, he was dragged against his will to Natsumi's house.

And, furthermore, the rumours that they were in fact dating doubled that day.

[XXXX]

Naomasa Tsukauchi was having a rather rough day, and to those who knew about what it was he was dealing with, they would know full well that it was for a good reason.

He remembered the call like it had been burned into his mind. A young girl, probably no older than twelve, called the police in a fit of hysterics. Screaming and crying that her older brother was killed. The operator had sent a few officers out to the location in Naruhata, and it wasn't too long afterward that he had been called to give his opinion.

In his short time while working with the police as an independent detective, he had seen several grizzly homicide cases, burn victims, victims of poison or radiation related Quirks. He had seen acid attacks and bombing attacks. He was even a lead detective in a missing child case that, thankfully, led to the safe return of a son to their mother.

Out of all the things that he had seen, though, none of them even compared to what he to bear witness too—and a lot of those things he had seen were pretty gruesome.

But none of them beat this.

Death, as a rule of thumb for a detective, was to be treated with reverence. It was to be treated as what it was—a tragedy that needed to be avenged.

But that didn't stop Naomasa from nearly vomiting when he saw the pure carnage on display for him when he arrived at the morgue in the police station.

First, starting with the first victim, and the one the police call had been about, Rapt Tokage.

From the initial description of Rapt, a young man who had the appearance of a lizard but was still very much a human, he had stood at five foot five inches, a small tail and aside from that, there wasn't much else uniquely interesting about him aside from his turquoise scales.

But now, the only reason they were able to identify him was because of his younger sister, someone named Setsuna, identifying him based on his favourite beanie and jacket, which had been completely stained in blood.

For starters, his right arm—the entire thing—was gone. Cut off at the shoulder and, aside from a few strands of muscle, was either destroyed or, as Naomasa had been forced to accept, devoured.

His stomach had been ripped open, and as a result, most of his entrails had been removed, and his entire bottom jaw and half of his snout had also been taken. His throat was ripped out—the first injury, according to the mortician—and his left eye had been plucked out clean.

And that was just the first victim.

The second victim, a man by the name of Moyuru Tochi.

The first wound inflicted was, yet again, his jugular being ripped out. But immediately after that? His entire face—the whole thing—was ripped off, and half of his skull had been devoured as was evident by the bite indentations.

Then came the rest of his body. Or, at least, what was left.

His chest cavity had been hollowed out, only leaving behind bits of cracked rib and spine. His right arm had been completely severed, as was his left arm and left leg.

The carnage had been so devastating that half of the police force that showed up thought that it had been a wild animal attack, but when no animal DNA showed up anywhere on the bodies, a chilling thought that made Naomasa's blood chill below zero hit him like a truck.

Someone, a fellow human being, was responsible for the attack.

When they scanned for human DNA, however, they similarly found none. The saliva found contained no DNA, as did the black hair follicles they found. Which, obviously, made next to no sense. The mortician was confused, and the DNA Specialist also couldn't make any sense of it.

Which brought Naomasa to what it was he was tasked with doing.

He was tasked with figuring out how someone could leave behind zero DNA evidence. What made it worse was that his Quirk would be useless here. His Quirk, Lie Detector, acted a lot like his sister's Quirk. The individual had to not only know that what they were saying was either a true statement or a lie, but he also had to have enough information to confirm if it was a true statement or a lie.

He wasn't omni-present.

He wasn't all knowing—much to his chagrin, because truly, that would've made his life a whole lot easier.

At least with his sisters Polygraph Quirk, it only relied on the person speaking to know if it was true or not.

As Naomasa sat at the table of his favourite café, Moes Icely which was just down the road from Musutafu train station, Naomasa had several documents and folders all laid out in front of him with a few other note pads sat down across from him, each of which full of details they already knew about the victims as well as a list of potential people who could potentially want them dead and had the criminal background to do it.

As it turned out, Soga, Moyuru, and Rapt had put a massive target on their backs, having attacked and robbed not only several people who were affiliated with The Yakuza but also a few locations that were tied back to them.

They had even targetted one of more notorious store fronts prior to their becoming of Instant Villains, The Shie Hissaikai, who's ranks included someone who had a Quirk that allowed him to eat anything.

To any regular, sane detective that wasn't named Naomasa Tsukauchi, that would typically mean that therefore had to be that individual—Soramitsu Tabe—but that was just the thing. Naomasa had met Tabe before, and Tabe's Quirk did not leave bite indentations like the ones that were left behind by the person who had done this.

Tabe's Quirk, Food, made his jaws strong enough to bite through solid steel. A very powerful Quirk indeed. If he truly wanted to, Tabe could more than likely eat a lot of people very rapidly, and the only thing that could stop him would be a hail of bullets.

But, the issue here was that, when Tabe ate something, he devoured it in one bite due to how his Quirk functioned. There was no tearing, and there was no chewing. Just a single chomp, and whatever came into contact with Tabe's mouth was simply gone.

Here, though, specifically with Moyuru, around his neck and facial areas, there was evidence of ripping and tearing with either very sharp teeth or claws. Tabe had neither traits, therefore, it was impossible for him to be responsible for it.

His second suspect was Moonscent. After all, he had the claws needed for such an action, and while Naomasa hadn't seen the boy's teeth, given that Moonscent was prone to mutilating people it wasn't as if he could have potentially been above cannibalizing people….

The only problem was that theory fell flat on its face when one considered the fact that the individual who did this had enough physical strength to overpower two near-fully grown men who, in records past, had been able to tussle it out with albeit low-ranking heroes.

Moonscent struggled with someone like Stendhal, who was about as strong as a low-ranking hero according to the information that Naomasa had. Moyuru and Rapt were able to handle their own against several low-ranking heroes before, and come out with barely a scratch. Granted, they weren't in any head-on fights, but that was beside the point.

Not to mention, Naomasa had spoken to the kid. Despite his faults, he had a very clear line of justice that he adhered to. He despised the act of killing just based on his opinions of Stendhal, and further than that, they took away all of his supplies.

In other words, Moonscent was not a true suspect, but if he didn't include him then the board would be all over his ass for not considering it.

However, his main suspect was a man by the name of Watsuki Akakawa, or as he had labeled himself, Moonfish. A serial killer who's whole Modius Operandi was to kill individuals then consume them. A true cannibal who had actually been recently spotted in Naruhata, posing as a dentist, of which he was trained in the field of, so, either two things were happening here.

Option A: Moonfish was trying to re-enter society and had given up his ways of cannibalism.

Or.

Option B: Moonfish was merely using that as a front to continue preying on people.

What made Option B more appealing was that, even looking back at his other cases, when his victims were found beaten, battered, slashed and partially consumed, they too had no traces of DNA on them, primarily due to how Moonfish's teeth were replaced with metal implants that he could control.

It took police two years to finally nail him, and when they caught him, arrested and sent him to trial, his lawyer was able to get him out of facing jail time sighting the insanity plea, which somehow worked. Moonfish then went on to serve a measly year and six months in a psych-ward and came out a "changed man", but Naomasa didn't believe it.

Those were his primarily suspects, and frankly, he was more in the belief that it was Moonfish over Tabe and Moonscent.

Now, what would've been really nice was if they had security footage to work off of. The only problem was that any place with a security system had been either too far away to catch the perp in clear lighting or any real defining detail aside from smudges, and the surrounding areas that could have possible clear footage said that those cameras hadn't functioned for months.

Naomasa had told Makoto that he was going to be busy all night, so she ordered take-out and left some for him when he came back. Perks with living with one's sister, they knew you in ways not even a spouse could—not that he was married or even looking into that prospect at the moment—and specifically they knew what you liked.

That chicken teriyaki couldn't come quicker. He had been foaming at the mouth for it since he was told it was there, but stuff at Moes Icely's until he finished getting his notes together and until he came up with someone to focus on.

The bell to Moes Icely's café rang, which was odd given how late it was, as footsteps approached the same booth that Naomasa sat in. A few moments later, someone sat down across from him, and when Naomasa looked up, he a look of confusion written all over his face.

Sitting in front of him was a young-looking man with mint-green hair that faded into black, ashen pale skin, and lavender coloured eyes. He was dressed in a white haori with blue spider-lily motifs covering the whole thing. Underneath the haori was a grey tunic and below that he wore a pair of black hakama pants kept up by a standard white belt with a black buckle.

Naomasa knew who this man was.

He was extremely notorious for living as a shut-in just south of the border between Musutafu and Tokyo. The man was a painter, which was what he had been famous for, but he was also an informant of the police from time to time, and had taken special interest in the Moonfish case for "personal reasons."

And now, that same man was sitting across from him.

"Tsukauchi-kun. Long time no see…" The man said, his tone of voice still as sharp as the day Naomasa had met him, which unnerved him even more.

"Yamamoto-san! What a pleasure to see you again. I—"

"Save it, detective," The man, Yamamoto, interrupted, narrowing his eyes. "I told you to get into contact with me as soon as another cannibal case came up, and you didn't. I only found out because of the news. Did you forget, or did those rats at the top tell you not to?"

"A-Ah, um… about that—"

"Damnit, Tsukauchi!" Yamamoto slammed his right, clawed, fist down on the table with enough force to shake the whole building, which gave Naomasa pause.

Clawed?

Yamamoto also had clawed hands?

In fact… it was just like Moonscent, too.

Were they perhaps… related?

Naomasa pushed that thought into the back of his mind for later, as Yamamoto glared daggers at him. "This is important to me. If it wasn't for the fact I came here to get my granddaughter something to eat, I would sit here and berate you some more. You're lucky I'm on a tight schedule…" Yamamoto spat, still glaring daggers at Naomasa as he stood up.

"I expect you to contact me tomorrow night. You know I can't be out in the sun, and I want whatever the police station has in terms of evidence. I don't care how against protocol it is. You either give it to me, or I take it by force."

And with that, Yamamoto left him alone. The entire time, Naomasa held his breath. Yamamoto was not someone you got into an argument with. You simply let him berate you, otherwise it got worse. But it never came out of a place of malice more than it came out of a place of frustration.

Contrary to popular belief, Yamamoto was a very old man, despite his looks. Some even claim to have seen him since the Pre-Quirk Era, but that was impossible. It was impossible, because no one could live for that long.

That aside, he really didn't want to involve Yamamoto. After all, he was a busy man. Yamamoto also tended to… complicate things.

For example, during the Moonfish case, Yamamoto had mentioned something about man-eating Demons.

It was complete lunacy, and was to be expected from someone who stayed inside 16 hours of the day, painting the same woman over and over again like a lunatic.

Irregardless, the point was that Yamamoto was trouble, but he meant well. If Yamamoto wanted in on something, he was in, no matter how much the board complained. He would give Yamamoto the copies tomorrow, fully unredacted, and he'll come up with his own conclusion which Naomasa would more than likely dismiss, before going after Moonfish.

After all, man-eating Demons were a bunch of nonsense. There was no way that could be real.

Right?

[Ending Song: No title – by: Reol]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: Violence/バイオレンス by: QUEEN BEE]

[Volume 2 – Chapter 4: Rivers of Blood, Mountains of Sorrow]

It was the dead of night. Everything was still—even the air. Night-life in Naruhata was not as active as a place like Tokyo, Shinjuku, Shibuya, Akihabara, or even Yokohama. But, for the locals, it was pretty hectic. After all, Naruhata was dubbed The City of Villains for a reason.

What little night activity there was, it was primarily composed of villains and ne'er-do-wells. Thankfully, it wasn't particularly dangerous. The worst that could happen to the average person in Naruhata was getting mugged. Things like rape, murder, and other nefarious crimes weren't all that common. It was thanks to the presence of the vigilantes, and with those two cannibalized corpses that came up two nights ago, most criminals, as well as regular people, were too scared to step outside.

But, that didn't mean that everyone wanted to stay indoors.

And those that didn't, were typically the ones that didn't have a choice. Either because of obligations or…

Because they were being hunted.

Dipping and ducking through alleyways, a sharp-dressed man was running for his life. A low-ranking Yakuza from the Shie Hissaikai. Someone who owed The Villain Factory a large sum of money, and was late paying it back by two months.

And now, his life was forfeit.

The man tripped and fell, face hitting the concrete with a sharp thud. The force of the fall broke his nose as he screamed. Blood seeped down his face as he scrambled to stand, only for a shadow to loom over him. Panic filled his eyes as he raised a hand—pleading. Begging.

"W-Wait..! W-W-We can talk about this! I-I—"

Akaguro's blade sliced through the man in front of him like a hot knife through butter, blood and ichor spraying like a shower of ritual and death. Crimson fluid decorated the floor and walls of the alley, painting it a thick sheen of red. The smell of iron filled the air, as Akaguro felt a sense of confliction.

Another villain slain.

Another devil killed.

And yet, Akaguro could not find the same joy that he once had when taking down scum like this one.

Another Instant Villain was dead—or at least that was what he had been told—and the chuckling hive that sat above the rooftops yet again was appeased. Had it not been for the fact that the real pest lived solely within the left eye, he would have cut her down long ago.

But until the hostage she wore like a body suit was set free or removed from the picture entirely, Akaguro was given no choice but to stick by her. It was both a way to keep an eye on the villain known as Kuin Hachisuka, and also the girl that she had invaded.

Akaguro might have been willing to kill Pop-Step and Koichi. Both of them were minors, but they did what they did willingly. They got in his way with a purpose in mind of making sure he was defeated. So he met their resolve with his own. He was the victor, and he would have delivered them to their ultimate fate, had Knuckleduster not shown up, and had Moonscent not come back to life.

Where he drew the line was with true innocence. Civilians, dragged into a mess they never wanted to be apart of. That was the state of the host that Kuin resided within was put into. Unconscious, and unable to make her own choices. A child stuck between a rock and the rest of the world.

Who was he, a vigilante, to decide the fate of an innocent soul? Someone who had yet to be corrupted by either world? It simply wasn't his, and it never would be until she made her choice of remaining a civilian, or going down either path.

There was also the small tidbit that Kuin knew about his true identity. Contrary to popular belief, he only moonlighted as Stendhal. During the day, he worked as a janitor at an elementary school. While it didn't make him a lot of money, it was enough to afford his apartment.

He made a decent living. He enjoyed the antics of the little children, even if their messes were annoying to clean up. There was also the fact that he acted as a secret warden. He helped the downtrodden of the children, and in turn, he was praised by them.

It was low, he knew. But it made him feel like the man he wanted to be, instead of the man he needed to become. For the sake of others and the sake of Japan.

If he was outed as the vigilante Stendhal, then he would lose everything.

He would lose his job. He would lose his apartment. He would be forced to live on the run, and furthermore, he'd lose the one friendship he had—a friendship that even he hadn't expected to gain.

A friendship with one Todoroki Fuyumi—daughter and heiress of the Todoroki fortune. A respectable woman, who was quite nice to be around.

If she knew what he did at night… that friendship would be shattered beyond repair. Fuyumi was too much a gentle soul, and he knew that well.

For a while, before he knew what Kuin was, he had half the mind to cut her down all the same. It was only until he had cornered her on a particularly frustrating day that he learned of the whole situation. It was what put him in his current predicament, and he hated all of it.

The more that Akaguro thought about this situation, the more screwed it got, so he put it in the back of his mind for now, sheathing his katana before looking down at the next grouping of photos.

Two more Former Instant Villains.

Two more bodies to sit on his mind.

One, a girl who looked no older than thirteen. A chipper smile on her face, bright and happy, gilded eyes that radiated life and joy. The whole world ahead of her not knowing that Stendhal was put on her trail.

And the other, a dark and brooding guy, cigarette dangling between his lips with cold blue eyes and patchy white and black hair.

He didn't know if he could bring himself to do it.

Knuckleduster's words had struck a cord with him. They are not of the same calibre. He wasn't an ally of justice. Just a strange masked murderer.

But… wasn't he?

He was taking out the bad guys all the same, wasn't he?

He was killing villains… wasn't he?

Or…

"Oi! Stendhal! Stop lollygagging!" The parasite's voice ripped through his thoughts, forcing a snarl to surface. "We've got one more for tonight!"

"I reserve the right to do what it is I please," Akaguro retorted, eyes narrowing underneath his mask. "And If I say that I am finished, then so be it."

All of his life, Akaguro believed in a single thing. That heroes and villains were the only way the world worked. For every hero, there were two villains, and those villains needed to be stopped. No matter what. He wanted to be a hero to cleanse the rot.

But then, he was told he couldn't be a hero.

His Quirk was too "evil" for that.

Akaguro tried to get people to see reason. Tried to get others to see him for more than what he could be. More than a potential weapon.

But that failed. He was cast away. Called a monster for his Quirk and ostracized.

And now he found himself in the exact same situation he didn't want to be in. Where he was a weapon for someone else. Where his talents with the blade were used against his will.

Now that he was seeing things for what they were, he knew that he needed to flee. But he wasn't going to flee without finishing the job.

He still had one more villain needed killing…

Akaguro would wait, of course. He would wait until the situation was either unsalvageable, or for when Kuin's back was turned. He would strike her down—non-lethally, of course, to preserve the host—and then he would rip that damned bug out of the girl's head. Then, once it was done, he would bring her to a hospital and hope for the best.

But that was best saved for another time.

Kuin glared at him from above, unaware of his current thought process. Both knew—or at least one of them knew—that neither of them wanted to get on the other's bad side. Working together was strictly that. Working together. One was not to command the other, lest it cause a rift deeper than the one that already existed in the criminal underground.

It was already bad enough that Kuin's plans were being delayed. It was even worse that somehow Stendhal hadn't been defeated. Rokuro had more uses for him though, so at least there was that. But Stendhal was proving to be more of a nuisance than an ally.

Kuin was the type of person who demanded usefulness out of her allies. If, for even a moment, they proved themselves anything less than, she would do them in. It was just her nature. To keep a hive running at peak capacity, you needed to cut the chaff.

But, when said chaff was strong enough to overpower you with a single sweep of their blade, it suddenly became a lot harder to cut. To put it simply, Stendhal was "that guy" and there was nothing that Kuin could do about it.

Frankly, Kuin had banked on him losing to Knuckleduster. After all, from the memories of her host, she knew that Knuckleduster was one unit of a man. Strong enough to break through walls like they were made of cardboard, and fast enough to keep up with speeding bullets even without his old Quirk.

Realistically, all things considered, Knuckleduster should have won. He should have beaten in Stendhal's face. Kuin knew it would've been cathartic to watch, especially given how pretentious the asshole was.

But, to Kuin's surprise, Knuckleduster did not win. Stendhal had won, albeit cheaply with the use of his Quirk, but still.

Kuin knew that Stendhal was a master swordsman—there was no denying that. She would be stupid to disregard a blade powerful enough to take a full powered blast from Knuckleduster—the same man who you could probably convince her could turn a street into a torn up line of rubble with enough force—and the blade didn't even bend.

She would admit that she was interested in finding out how that was the case, but at the same time, she was too lazy to actually look.

Kuin also had a feeling that Stendhal was going to try something stupid sometime soon. And so, she decided to go out of her way to seduce that explosive boy—Bakubo, or something like that.

Well, "seduced" wasn't the correct word. More like effectively bargained—and it was quite easy as to how she did it. Both of them hated Moonscent for one reason or another, and they both wanted to see him fall from grace, or straight-up die. She was set to meet him some point this week. Either before or after the big attack she planned on that department store. Total pandemonium. It would be wildly fun, that much she knew.

However, with Stendhal around, it could complicate things.

And if it complicated things, Rokuro would have a bit of a fit.

And if Rokuro had a fit, then The Boogeyman would need to get involved. Getting the boss man involved was a strict sign of failure. Failing him was like pissing off a dormant God. As much as Kuin liked to have fun, she also knew when things needed to be kicked into gear.

Kuin watched Stendhal disappear into the darkness. She had half the mind to throw an explosive bee his direction and blow him to bits. But, she decided against it at the last second. It would be a waste of time and resources.

"Oh well, I'll just have to think of some other way to do him in. Maybe… I can drag that explosion boy to the department store, trigger him up, then send Stendhal in to "deal" with him. It could lure out Moonscent, and all three of them can kill each other! Ahaha! I'm brilliant!"

With her mood elevated, Kuin turned around, smile on her face as she practically skipped toward the emergency exit door on the rooftop she was standing on. These next few days would prove themselves interesting, to say the least. All she needed to do now was bide her time.

[XXXX]

Izuku was hungry.

That statement, while typically normal, was not "normal" anymore. His hunger had expanded. His need for blood had spiked, and he knew why. Ever since he had gotten a taste of fresh blood, his mind demanded it. The stale, old, refrigerated blood made him feel disgusted. He didn't know why, especially when it had sated him before.

Now, though. Now, it was more like a morsel.

His appetite had become… richer.

He hated it.

He hated all of this.

He just wanted to maintain a normal life. But by the gods... when he felt the flesh between his teeth be ripped apart… when he felt the fresh blood pour down his throat like the nectar of the gods, as if it were a blessing by the God of the Moon…

It made him shiver with anticipation just thinking about it.

And he hated it.

His mother was also getting worried. His new found hunger had made him more… irritable, it seemed. He found himself becoming more snippy. More… aggressive. Even during his time hanging out with Nakime, he found himself unable to handle most of her usual antics.

And it was concerning.

Concerning, because if this kept on any longer, and if his hunger became worse…

He feared what he would do.

The frenzy he had found himself in with those two individuals… He didn't want it to happen again. He didn't want to devour again.

He thought about his mother.

He thought about what would happen if, in a frenzied, ravenous state, he might tear her apart.

Izuku shuddered at the sheer idea of it. Defiling his mother like that… he could never. He could never even stomach the idea. It made him sick.

And now, as he sat in his room, huddled on his bed, Izuku knew what needed to be done. If for nothing else but to keep his family and friends safe. If he needed to consume one of the villains he ran into as Moonscent, then he would do it.

"For my mother… That's what this is for…"

And so, he quickly dawned his attire—after finishing up this weeks chapter, of course—before making a beeline for Naruhata. Stendhal was still his prime target, but he had a feeling he wasn't going to run into him.

Even if the idea of ripping his jugular out of his throat made a part of him ripple with excitement….

It didn't take him long to reach Naruhata—an hour at most, which meant he was getting faster. Consumption seemed to boost his physical abilities much more than blood. It was… concerning. But he didn't put too much thought behind it.

He had a few villains in mind. Most of them were scum—some of the rare garbage that washed up on the normally calm streets of the city. One in particular was someone he had his blade pointed at for a long time; even before Stendhal.

The villain's name were the Hotta brothers. They were drug traffickers. Specifically, the trafficked trigger. The same drug that he knew Knuckleduster had a specific disgust for. They were also connected to The Yakuza and other villainous organizations, and while he would like to give them the benefit of the doubt, being linked to any of those kinds of groups, you became culpable in their actions.

Not to mention, the Hotta brother's were very, very dangerous on their own. Their Quirk allowed them to transform into grasshoppers, and they were very strong. One wrong move, and it would spell the end for their enemies.

But Izuku was different.

He was strong, but more than that, he needed to feed.

He needed to consume.

And while he could go to a different city and find a different villain to consume, he wanted to stay in Naruhata.

Typically, they were located at Hoppers Café. The place in question was in a low-rise building on the east side of Naruhata, and right now it was probably closed. Which meant that he could break in, get done what needed to be done, and leave before the police show up—if they show up at all.

The mere thought of cannibalizing someone felt wrong. Yet, he justified it as the safety of others. Those who he was more close with. His hunger was brewing, and he'd rather eat someone who wasn't close to him rather than accidentally eat someone who was.

Approaching the building, Izuku stared at it's entrance. It was a regular café, themed on cats. If he recalled correctly, he knew that Nakime liked to come here from time to time. Of course, doing what he was about to do would more than likely shut it down. It would make Nakime upset, and it made him feel bad.

But, at the same time, this was for her.

For his mother.

For his allies in Knuckleduster, Crawler, and Pop-Step.

For their safety, he did this.

To sate his hunger, he would need to kill.

With a powerful kick, he shattered one of the front windows. No alarms sounded, which was odd. Maybe they didn't arm the security system?

Stepping inside, he drew his Tanto, and kept it close by his side. The interior of the café wasn't anything special. There were cat trees everywhere, and he didn't doubt that there were actual cats somewhere in the building. Or, perhaps they were else where?

Either way, he wasn't keen on finding out. The rest of the café—while nice looking—wasn't what he was here to look at. Thusly, he advanced further into the building, and as he did, and as he stepped past the counter, a fist came swinging in his direction.

Izuku intercepted the fist with shocking speeds—even to him—grabbing the wrist and using the momentum of the swing, he slammed his assailant into the counter, shattering it to bits, made even more impressive seeing as it was a granite and concrete counter and not a standard wooden one.

"Grah!" His assailant shouted, hissing as he reeled from the counter. They didn't look that old—perhaps in their thirties, if that. He had short dark hair, a goatee, and sharp eyes with small pupils. He was rather physically impressive, and he had a twin-point mustache above his upper lip. He was dressed in the attire belonging to the café, that being an apron with the café name on the front, alongside a black shirt and pants.

Izuku didn't give the man a chance to give up. With lightning quick precision, he stabbed the man in the jugular. He choked, sputtered, and coughed up blood. But in the span of a few seconds, his eyes glossed over, and he died.

"Brother!" Someone behind him shouted, but Izuku didn't even bother to register them. He didn't even look at who they were. He knew by the addressing of the person he killed as "brother" that it was the other brother.

And so, he lunged.

It happened so quick, that the other brother couldn't even get out of the way in time.

In a single horizontal slash, Izuku slashed the man's throat open as blood spewed all over in front of him like a fountain. The brother choked on his own blood, falling to his knees, before collapsing. Dead.

It was quick.

It was mostly painless.

And now, it was time to do what he came here to do.

When he approached the brother he had downed first, and as he removed his mask from his face, having it sit atop his head, he thought that he would hesitate. But, he didn't. Like a rapid dog, he bit into the man's neck and teared.

It was messy.

It was animalistic.

In that moment, he abandoned everything that made him seem human. His hunger and instincts kicked in, and he tore as viscously as a starving lion would to a successfully caught elk. Bones crushed underneath the strength of his jaw, muscle tore as easily as peeling meat off a cooked chicken bone, and all the while his face became drenched with blood as it surrounded his lips.

By the time he was done, the first brother's face was gone. Only his skull was left behind, and his eyes were plucked out like grapes. His shoulders and the front of his chest was torn up badly, like a tiger had ripped him apart.

When Izuku regained his wits, he assumed disgust would be at the forefront of his mind.

Instead, it was… nothing.

He felt… nothing for what he had done.

He knew he should have felt something. Anything. But he didn't. He didn't feel a thing. At most, he felt annoyed he could stomach enough to finish the corpse in front of him. But, he also knew he needed to save enough room for the other corpse.

Something that, upon a quick reflection, was deeply disturbing.

A part of him wondered why his mind was functioning the way it was. Was there something that he didn't know about himself?

He knew he wasn't human.

Was that it? Was that why he looked upon another person as if they weren't even real? No normal human should feel the way he did.

But, then again, he wasn't human. As for what he was, Izuku wasn't quite sure. But, whatever he was, it made him feel as if humans were nothing but prey. Which was wrong. He was taught that it was wrong. The law said it was wrong.

So then why did he feel fine doing what he was doing?

Whatever the case was, Izuku didn't really care at the moment. He needed to finish what he had started. Then, he could leave, and when he did, he would wait until his next bout of hunger to consume. Of course, he still had other things he needed to do tonight, and so he wanted this to speed up. He had already spent enough time here as it was. He needed this to get over and done with.

And as he turned to look over at the other individual—bald with no facial hair wearing the same attire as the first—and just as he was about to do it all over again, he heard someone walk in. Light footsteps—concerned, possibly confused and scared.

Izuku froze, not moving a muscle, even as the flashlight of a phone was put on him. It illuminated him completely, showing all the blood dripping off his form. He dared not move as the phone dropped.

Then, there was a gasp, the sound of someone stumbling backwards…

…followed by a shrill scream.

A feminine, shrill, horrified scream.

And when Izuku turned to look at who had entered, his blood turned ice cold.

For the person who stood in the doorway…

Was Pop-Step.

[Ending Song: No Title – by: Reol]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: Violence/バイオレンス by: QUEEN BEE]

[Volume 2 – Chapter 5: Me and The Devil]

Fear.

Dread.

Anxiety.

Three of the most oppressive emotions, and they were most common amongst those who had witnessed a terrifying or traumatic event. Emotions like that would writhe and cause turmoil for the one afflicted. Like an illness, spreading deep, ravaging all rational thought and distilling the mind into nothing but pure instinct.

Izuku had never once felt those kinds of emotions, until now. Fear of being caught, dread of the consequences, and anxiety due to who had caught him.

Pop-Step, otherwise known as Kazuho Haneyama. Fellow vigilante, and also fellow student of Aldera Junior High. One of the last people who he ever wanted to have catch him—and on his second "hunt" no less.

The terror etched onto her face, and the fear that coursed through her eyes like shining, betrayed jewels was immense. The way her body shook, and the unmistakable sheen of tears made it very clear to Izuku that it was over. He had been caught.

He glanced at the body beneath his feet, it's ravaged appearance and the horrible stench of death that no doubt attracted her attention. It made him wonder if she had met up with the other two yet, or if she simply happened to pass on through on her way to meet them?

Whatever the case might have been, it did not matter.

"Haneyama…" Izuku whispered as her breath hitched in shock. "I know… how bad this looks. But, please… I can explain—"

"W-What?" There was pulpable sense of anger in her voice. Or was it justice? No, justice was not that cold-cut. It was not an emotion. It was paired with a sensation. He knew that well enough. It was hard to discern what coated her tone. Righteous fury, perhaps? Yes, it would make sense.

As Pop-Step blinked away the tears, her stance changed to a more guarded, but still terrified one. "Y-You… You can't explain any of this! You…! You killed them, and… oh my God… you… you ate one of their faces!" A strike of realization washed over Pop-Step's face as dread filled her expression, all colour draining from her skin. "You… you killed Moyuro and Rapt, didn't you?"

"I didn't want to…" Izuku muttered, clenching a bloodied clawed hand into a fist, his eyes narrowing sharply. "I had no choice. I… I lost control over myself."

"Nuh-uh! No way! That's not… that's bullshit!" Pop-Step shouted, glaring at him, before frantically shifting her eyes down to her dropped phone. She went to reach for it, but before she could—

"Stop! Please!" Izuku shouted, halting her in her tracks. She glanced up at him, eyes still narrowed, knit together in a fury. "Please… Don't escalate things. The others… they don't know you're here, right?"

For what felt like forever, the two stared at one another. Slowly, Pop-Step crouched next to her phone, hands on her knees, prone to grab the phone whenever. A concession. It was the best he could ask for right now. "Yeah…. I was on my way to meet them."

"Okay… Okay…" Izuku murmured, sighing out of relief. "Please, listen to me. I-I know this looks awful—and it is. It really is. But I… Ever since Crawler gave me his blood… something in me changed. Snapped. I dunno. The reason I left early when I dropped off that cake was because I felt this… hunger rise within me. Those two…. Moyuro and Rapt… they were at the wrong place at the wrong time when I… lost control."

"Lost control…?"

"Yes. I-I… I couldn't control my actions. It felt like I was starving, and my body went on auto-pilot. When I came to my senses, and when I saw what I had done… I was…. I was horrified. I didn't mean to do what I did. Really, I didn't. But, ever since that day, I've had this aching feeling in the back of my head. If I don't consume flesh, then… Then I might just snap again. It could be anyone. It could be my mother… It could be at school…. It could be, god forbid, if I was patrolling and with you guys… Or some random civilian…"

"And you think that makes whatever this is okay?!" Pop-Step shouted, causing Izuku to flinch. But that flinch gave way into something more primal. Frustration.

"They were trigger dealers! Criminals! Better them than an old lady across the road!"

"Or maybe no one at all! Did you think about that?!"

"So you want me to starve?!" Izuku snarled, and in that, he found nothing but contempt behind Pop-Step's eyes. She didn't speak, seemingly attempting to gather her thoughts. He watched as her hand drifted closer to the phone on the floor.

He needed to convince her.

He needed to find a way out of this situation without causing anymore unjust conflict.

And then, she spoke.

"You were fine with drinking blood months ago… Why not go back to that, huh?"

"I can't! It's not enough! If I could, I would! Do you think I want to eat people?! Do you think I like knowing that I have to rip apart the people who I wish to protect, all for the sake of ensuring I don't rip apart a child because I hadn't eaten?! You don't know what it's like! You don't know the feeling! But I do. And it hurts." Izuku replied, clutching at chest as he poured his heart out.

He hated this.

He hated all of this.

Why did he have to be born like this?

Why did his mother birth him into such a cursed form?

Why couldn't he be normal, like everyone else?

Izuku let out a shuddered breath, as he felt a guttural urge in the back of his mind. Strike her down. Get rid of her. It would make things so much easier if she was dead. There wouldn't be any conflict anymore, because conflict could not exist within a corpse.

But, at the same time, the idea of killing someone he knew was worse than what he had just done. The Hotta brothers were strangers. He did not know their strugglers. He did not know their beliefs. He did not know if they had families or lovers. All he knew was that they were criminals, and criminals needed to be rid of.

And while he wished he could have dealt with them more peacefully, he figured it was better to deal with them like this. If only he had known that their deaths and one of their consumptions would have led to this.

"Can't you see, Haneyama? I don't want to do this… But I have to. I don't have a choice. I beg of you, just turn the other cheek. Walk away. This doesn't need to get messy. I don't want to hurt you, but…"

Izuku paused, and suddenly, the air in the building shifted. From fear, dread, and anxiety to frustration, and it filled the air like a toxic gas; enough to suffocate even the strongest of men and women. Pop-Step flinched. Hard.

Izuku knew Pop-Step to be brave, but she also wasn't foolish. He planned to play to that strength of hers. He knew that he was faster, stronger, and more skilled than she was. She knew that too. Truthfully, he had all the power in the situation they were in.

Sure, She could call forth the rest of her friends, but… Would she even have the time to open up the app before he sliced her hand off?

Of course, he didn't want to think like that. He wanted this to end peacefully.

But…

"You know who I am outside of this life. You know where I go to school. You know my name. Frankly, you are my biggest threat right now. However, I'm willing to give you a chance. All you have to do is walk away, and pretend this didn't happen. Put this out of your mind, and forget it happened. That's it. I'm not asking you to be my friend, or help me cover up this mess. You just need to forget that it happened. But, should you pick up that phone—the instant you do… I will kill you."

The seriousness in his words were enough to strike fear into anyone with a functioning brain. And it seemed to do just that with Pop-Step. Her eyes widened, and the hand hovering above the phone shifted back.

There was a moment of consideration flickering through her eyes. But her resolve seemed to double back. However, before she could make her choice, Izuku spoke again. "Let's not forget that I'm faster and stronger than you. Suppose you do pick up that phone, and you try and contact your friends… you won't be able to before I reach you and do you in. It would be a waste of your life."

"What makes you think I won't just double cross you, huh?" Pop-Step said, a hint of nervousness hiding within her tone filled with faux bravado. "Didn't think about that, did you?"

"Are you saying you would?" Izuku questioned, raising an eyebrow as his right hand flexed, his claws gleaming in the reflection of the moonlight. Blood dripped freely, collecting at the ground underneath his feet. The sharpness in his eyes somehow sharpened, and for a split second, nothing but fear began to suffocate Pop-Step.

It was as if the very air was rebelling against her—as if the presence of this monster who she thought had been her friend was manipulating the very oxygen she breathed. Gasping for breath, sweat began to build up on her face and body as she crumpled to the floor, hands and legs bent in such a way that it appeared to be as if she was prostrating herself in front of a king.

Izuku walked over to her, each footstep akin to a judges gavel slamming against the ground. When he approached her, he knelt, if only slightly, to gently cup her chin and force eye contact. Tears welled in her eyes as she was made to look into the eyes of one Izuku Midoriya.

And what stared back was nothing but judgment.

"Answer me, Kazuho Haneyama…. If I give you the chance to run, to return to your family, and in repayment for my generosity, would you truly betray my kindness?" His voice was cold, bereft of compassion, filled only with malice. She tried to speak, but it was too difficult. Not with every emotion in the whole world fluttering in and out of her mind like a swarm of noise.

"You are at my mercy, Haneyama. Do not forget that. In this moment, I am your King. Do you understand me? I do not wish to bring harm to you, or your family—and it would not be difficult to find them, either. One quick search and that would be all it takes. I would have your address, and that would be that. Do you want your family to die, Kazuho?"

Something inside Izuku felt disgusted for what he was saying. Why was he saying this? Why did it feel like second nature to him? It was as if the mere utterance of betrayal had set something off within him. As if it had awoken something deep, dark, and old.

And he liked it.

"Kazuho… are you listening to me?" Izuku demanded, and the only thing that Pop-Step could do was whimper as the tears in her eyes began to fall. "Good. Very good, Kazuho… Now then. What is your answer? If I let you go, will you betray me?"

"N-No…"

"Good… Excellent, Kazuho. You've done well. Thank you," Izuku said, letting her go as he walked back over to the set of bodies, picked up his tanto, and turned back to face Pop-Step, who was now standing, her head bowed. For a moment, Izuku was confused. "Why haven't you left, Kazuho?"

"I didn't finish…" Pop-Step said, before lifting her head up to look at him, and within her eyes was nothing but hate. "I said "No," because I already did. While you were off yapping and threatening. They're gonna be here any minute, and they know exactly who we're up against. Now whaddya gonna do—"

It happened so fast.

Faster than it would take for someone to blink.

Pop could barely even register it had happened when it did. But she knew it did, when her hands instinctively went to her throat, and when she felt her breathing suddenly get cut off. When thin lines of blood trickled down the sides of her lips and when it began to pour out of her neck. The sudden rush of pain as she collapsed to her knees, coughing up globs of blood.

And behind her stood Izuku, his claws flexed and sheening with new blood as the rays of the moon fell down upon him. His eyes, cold and callous, peered down on Pop-Steps soon-to-be lifeless corpse.

When she fell to the ground, head woozy, as if wading through fog, the last thing that she ever heard were five, chilling, terrifying words. Five words that rocked her mind, body, and soul, and would now and forever be the last thing that she would remember in the fleeting moments of her remained existence.

"You shouldn't have done that."

And then, there was nothing.

[XXXX]

When Koichi got the urgent and sudden SOS message from Pop, followed by one of the most chilling audio he had ever heard. The voice sounded foreign. Deep, and menacing. Unlike anything that he had ever heard. East Naruhata was where it was located, and he knew that if he didn't get there fast enough, something bad would happen.

He knew it, deep in his bones.

He made sure to contact Master before he left, as well as message Ingenium—after all, a professional hero needed to be in the mix in case something big was happening. It would have been foolish of him to not.

But that audio…

"Good, very good Kazuho…" It was just those words. Kazuho… that was Pop's real name; it must've been. Whoever she had run into knew her outside her being Pop, and if that was the case, it could potentially be someone very dangerous.

And if it was someone dangerous—which it most certainly was—then he needed to hurry.

East Naruhata, Hopper Café. That was the address he was given. He made sure to be get there as fast as possible, and with enough luck, he could probably save her.

At least, that was what he thought.

Because when he arrived, and when he saw the state of the building, and when he saw her laying on the floor in a pool of blood with no culprit in sight….

"No…" Koichi whispered—the quietest thing in the whole world, filled with so much dread and terror that he could possibly muster. "Pop?" Koichi continued, but he dared not approach. Further in, he could see two more bodies. One of them was partially consumed. The Cannibal had been here… That was who she had run into.

His phone buzzed. No doubt Master getting back to him and saying he was on the way.

But now… what was the point?

Pop was dead.

Pop was gone…

He was too late.

He couldn't save her.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he fought the urge to collapse. He fought the urge to cry. Pop was his friend—albeit an conventual friend, but a friend nonetheless. Someone who he had saved and befriended, and someone who he had quickly gotten close to. Pop had been someone who brought a certain kind of atmosphere to his home.

And now she was gone.

Slowly, he approached her body. "Maybe" he thought. "Maybe she could still be alive." He knew it was silly. She was clearly dead. What else could it have been?

As he approached, he put a hand next to her throat… only to notice how deep the cut across her neck had been. Her head was only hanging on by a thin layer of skin. He nearly puked at the sight, staggering back as he gasped in shock.

He wanted to shout.

He wanted to cry.

But he was in too much shock to do either.

"Kid! Pop!" Master's voice cut through his silence and thoughts as he turned to look at the entrance, only to see the mortified look on his face. His usual haphazard expression was twisted into a look of total shock and dread. "Oh shit… No, not like this…"

Koichi was shocked, that Master had gotten here first before Ingenium. "Kid… What happened?" Master asked as Koichi tried to speak, but instead, all he could get out was a squeak of confusion and desperation. He tried to speak again, but all that came out was a babble mixed with a choked back sob.

And then, the reality of everything hit him like a ton of bricks.

Tears fell freely, as he came to the crushing realization that his best friend—Pop, no… Kazuho, was dead. He stumbled forward, and when he did, he was met halfway by Master—Knuckleduster—who put a hand on his shoulder.

"Oi, Kid, it'll be alright. She ain't gonna die for nothing. We're gonna find the bastard who did this, and we're gonna pound his face into the pavement, got it?" Knuckleduster said as Koichi grit his teeth, sucking back his tears as he nodded.

Right.

Right now, he didn't need to cry. He could save that until after Pop was avenged.

"You two, what's going on!" A boisterous voice shouted from across the street. Koichi looked up to see Ingenium, decked out in his hero costume. "Nice Guy! I got your message. Where's the villain!?"

"Gone… They left before we got here…" Koichi muttered, stepping out of the building. Knuckleduster turned to face Ingenium, his expression taut with impatience.

"Ingenium."

"Knuckleduster."

The two stared at one another, but there was no animosity for the other. It was more like a begrudging acceptance of the situation. Neither of them liked what was going on, and while it was illegal for vigilantes to do what they did, Ingenium wasn't the type of person who would rat on them.

That was why Koichi had contacted him in the first place. They knew one another, and that was that.

"What happened?" Ingenium asked as Knuckleduster grunted.

"One of the people I work with… One of my students… Died."

Ingenium visibly flinched. "Oh… My condolences for your loss, Knuckleduster."

"Thanks. But we have a villain to catch, and I wanna beat 'em up first," Knuckleduster said, cracking his knuckles. Ingenium went to speak, but stopped as the sound of something… crunching echoed around the surrounding area.

Koichi blinked, and for a split second, he felt fear stab him in the heart. Out of instinct, he slowly turned to look over his shoulder behind him. Maybe the villain had come back, hoping they wouldn't turn around.

But, what he saw instead was… something way worse than that.

It was a sight he never would've thought he'd see.

Ever.

Looming over one of the corpses in Hoppers Café, biting into a severed arm was… impossible. It couldn't have been real. His eyes must've been playing tricks on him, because there was no way what he was seeing was real.

And yet…

Pink hair, a neck suspiciously not cut, off-white skin with claws stained with blood. The tiny wings of the costume that was being worn seemingly looked… real, and… larger. The tips of her fingers were a dark shade of blue, bordering on black, and as she tore away from the arm, she slowly turned to look at the trio.

Pink sclera… black, sharp, cat-like pupils.

Drool and blood dripping from her mouth.

And a feral, almost guttural hiss like a cornered animal.

Somehow… Some way… Pop was alive.

But, Koichi had a sinking feeling that she wasn't Pop anymore.

Pop dropped the arm, but kept the crouched stance that she was in, her hands—claws—splayed out as they now dripped with blood. Her teeth were bare, revealing abnormally large canine teeth, and with a mix of what sounded like a shriek and a hiss, Pop stood her ground.

Knuckleduster, Koichi, and Ingenium could only stare in abject horror at what stood before them.

Whatever it was, it wasn't Pop anymore.

But what neither of them knew, was that this represented much more than they could ever dream of.

Because this signified something.

After 212 years…

A new Demon was made.

[Ending Song: No Title – by: Reol]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: Violence/バイオレンス by: QUEEN BEE]

[Volume 2 – Chapter 6: Skin of a Saint]

Koichi Haimawari would freely admit that he wasn't the bravest person out there. Anyone who said that they were instinctively brave was a liar. That was a trait one grew into, not born with. Small tangent aside, there were a lot of things that shocked him, but this topped the list.

Koichi did not know if what he was looking at was a trick of the eye, or if he was simply hallucinating. The person that was before him… it had to be Pop. It couldn't be anything else, but… at the same time, it wasn't Pop. It looked like Pop, but it wasn't. The whole thing was confusing, and it made his head hurt.

And as he stared at her, he couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and fear. Relief that Pop wasn't dead, and fear, because she was acting like a rabid animal, who hadn't eaten in days. What made things worse was the stance she was taking.

Crouched and hissing like a cat, claws spread out in a defensive yet offensive manner, and her eyes were pointed at him like he was a threat.

No.

Not as if he was a threat.

As if he was prey.

"Pop…?" Koichi whispered, looking at her as his eyes focused on her. "Pop, it's me. It's Koichi. Do you… Do you remember me?" Koichi asked, but he got no reply. Not a true one, anyway. All he got in response was a snarl.

"What the fuck…?" Knuckleduster rumbled, staring at Pop, as if the world had twisted in on itself. "Pop? What the hell happened to you?" Knuckleduster asked, his voice carrying a hint of disbelief as Pop's eyes snapped in his direction, bloody teeth still bare. Then, her eyes trailed over to Ingenium, who had taken a defensive stance.

"Knuckleduster, Nice Guy, step back!" Ingenium demanded only to earn a sharp glare from Knuckleduster.

"Oi! Why the fuck are you treating her like a villain!"

"In case you two forgot, she was eating someone!" Ingenium snapped, and that was when it sank in to the pair. It was Pop, or at least the creature in front of them look like Pop. But it was no longer Pop. Pop-Step, otherwise known as Kazuho Haneyama was gone.

This…

This thing had taken her place.

And as much as Koichi wanted that to be false, the evidence was quite clear.

"What do we do?" Koichi questioned, concern laced in his voice. Ingenium lowered his head slightly as he adjusted his stance, preparing to run straight ahead. A tackle attack—effective and powerful, especially from someone with super speed like him.

And then, just as he was about to attack, "Pop" lunged forward incredibly fast—faster than Koichi ever thought she could move. Her claws slashed against Ingenium's armour, and pierced through it, leaving behind a score of blood flowing in the air from the attack.

Both Koichi and Knuckleduster were taken aback as Ingenium staggered backward, pressing an armoured hand to his chest as he coughed. "Huh? How! This armour is reinforced!" Ingenium declared, confused. Just as he looked up, "Pop" was already on him again, except this time, she was aiming for his throat.

Knuckleduster stepped in, reeled an arm back, and slugged her hard in the side of her head, sending her tumbling down the road, skipping every few feet before crashing into a parked car, it's horn blaring. The sound of the impact echoed throughout the empty street as Koichi gasped in marvel at how strong his master was. Just then, Knuckleduster turned to face him, his teeth gritting.

"Kid! Get outta here!"

"I can help! Maybe we can convince her—remind her that it's us!" Koichi declared, as Knuckleduster nodded, before looking back over to where she was flung.

"Assuming she survived that punch…" Knuckleduster grunted, getting into a offensive stance, legs spaced out and arms in front of him with a glare in his eyes. From a distance, "Pop" came stumbling forward, clutching the side of her head. Her head had been split open, blood streaming down her face, but it seemingly repaired itself back to normal, the blood fading away like ash in the wind.

"That's… That's impossible. That should have killed her… Which of course is bad, but… Still…" Ingenium mumbled as Knuckleduster scowled.

"Reminds me of Moonscent. He had his head cut off and he came back a minute later."

"Huh!?" Ingenium shouted, but Knuckleduster waved him off.

"Later. We've got more important things to deal with, Hero."

Just as Knuckleduster said that, "Pop" dropped to an animalistic crouch, snarling as she propelled herself forward, completely avoiding Koichi and lunging directly at Knuckleduster, guttural screaming howl reverberating throughout the dark as Knuckleduster adjusted himself to avoid the incoming swipe.

In turn, Koichi activated his quirk. A tiny ring appeared in the palm of his hand—a new facet of his Quirk he figured out thanks to the Cat Bus incident a week ago—and slammed it into "Pop's" side. The impact sent her flying to the left, right where Ingenium was, who came in with a kick, knocking Pop to the floor as she hit the ground face first.

"Nice team work, Nice Guy!" Ingenium said as Koichi nodded.

Once again, "Pop" got up as the wings on her waist… flapped? He did notice how they looked real ever since whatever happened had happened. When they did, she seemingly gained flight, using her Quirk to boost her up into the air. It was a sight to behold, but Koichi didn't linger on the sight.

"Oh, no you don't!" Knuckleduster grunted, getting into a crouched position. "Kid, now!" With a serious gleam in his eyes, Koichi ran up to Knuckleduster, who lowered his hand down to boost him up. The moment he stepped onto Knuckleduster's hand, he was launched into the air. Using those air-rings, he jumped above "Pop," balled both of his fists together and lifted them above his head as he began to descend.

The second her got close to "Pop," she looked up at him with wide, feral eyes, mouth wide in what looked like shock, as if she hadn't expected him to reach her.

And with a loud, demanding cry, Koichi shouted "GIVE HER BACK! GIVE KAZUHO BACK!" And as he shouted to the heavens, his fists collided with the top of her head, the force added onto the rings of air his hands generated, sending "Pop" into the ground with enough force to crater the ground the landed in.

Koichi descended, nearly falling to the asphalt without any way of stopping, only to be caught by Ingenium. "Thanks…" Koichi said as Ingenium chuckled.

"It's my job, Nice Guy," Ingenium said before letting him down. Knuckleduster walked over to the crater as "Pop" laid inside it, her head and upper body a complete mess. Blood drenched her body, and Koichi felt really, really bad for what he had done. Even as she began to regenerate from the damage, that didn't mean it felt any pride in what happened.

"Stay back, Kid,' Knuckleduster said, stepping into the crater. He reached out to "Pop", but just as he did, she rocketed forward, slashed him across the face with her claws, before appearing behind him. "Shit!" Knuckleduster grunted, holding his face for a split second.

He turned to face "Pop", went to punch her, only for her to catch the punch with a single hand, twist his arm upward prompting his elbow to break, before throwing him into the ground as if it was second nature. Koichi watched it all happen, baffled as she licked the blood off her claws. Once she did, she turned to look at Koichi, that feral look in her eyes gone.

"P-Pop? I-Is that you?" Koichi questioned, only for Pop scoff.

"Who else?"

Koichi stared at her, and she stared back, before looking down at Knuckleduster. She blinked, huffing. "Old man."

"Pop…" Knuckleduster grunted, holding his broken arm. "What the hell… Happened?"

"Dunno. I just woke up. In a crater. Oh, and with a strange thirst for blood…" Pop said, her tone oozing with sarcasm. "I think I remember… Yeah, I… I think I was attacked by, what was his name…? Oh whatever, doesn't matter. Pretty sure I died, at least, I think so. Then I woke up, I've got wings now, and claws, and… well, night vision is pretty awesome."

"You attacked us," Ingenium stated bluntly, to which Pop waved him off as if he meant nothing.

"And? What's your point?"

"Pop… What happened to you…?" Koichi murmured as Pop… smiled. It was an honest, real smile. And it reflected nothing but coldness.

"I realized something. That you're weak. All of you. When I woke up, I felt powerful. You saw just how easily I man-handled the old man, right? Whatever He did to me, it made me stronger. Also really hungry, but… If I'm anything like Him I know how to fix it…." Pop paused, frowning. "Weird… Usually I'd be up in arms about that sorta thing. Now though, I can't really find myself caring all too much… Anyways, see ya!"

"You're not going anywhere, Vi—"

Before Ingenium could finish his sentence, Pop appeared in front of him, and socked him in the face. The helmet crumpled under her newfound strength as he was sent flying into a random building.

"Pop! Wait—"

"Bye, Koichi. We won't be talking. Oh, and next time you find me? I'm gonna eat you." And with that, she leapt away, leaving Knuckleduster and Koichi alone. As she left, the only thing that Koichi could feel was dread.

Kazuho was gone. Whatever fleeting hope he had that she might have been still in there was dashed away. Whoever had done that to her… Whoever had changed her…

"I'll find them… And I'm going to make them pay," Koichi said, palpable fury engulfing his words. Knuckleduster didn't say a word, for he also felt that way. Koichi looked at Knuckleduster, then blinked in shock. "Oh! I'll call an ambulance!"

"Kid…"

"I'll pay for it!"

"Ugh, fine…"

Everyone would later make a full recovery, for better or for worse.

[XXXX]

The evening came and went, and Izuku was left annoyed and frustrated. Annoyed, because of what he had to do to Kazuho, and frustrated that he had been caught in the first place. He thought he had been careful to ensure he hadn't been followed, but then again, it wasn't like he was perfect. He wasn't some mastermind plotting out something massive.

Still, it was frustrating. Frustrating because now he had a bit of a guilty conscious on his mind. He had killed someone who he had been otherwise friends with, and now it was going to haunt him. At least, for a little while.

"So, Midori, did you hear that Hoppers Café got sacked?" Nakime asked, an upset gleam in her eyes. Izuku glanced over at her with a curt nod.

"Yeah. A tragedy. I've never been there myself, but I heard it was a good spot for coffee and sandwich's," Izuku replied as Nakime hummed.

"I like it for the cats. The owner's pretty pissed. Said he was gonna put a bounty out on who killed his friends. A shame, too. The security footage did catch something, but it wasn't for long enough to identify who it was. Just a guy in a mask, and that could be anyone," Nakime said, glaring at the ground. "When they find out who did it, I hope they get locked up for life. The person who killed those two shouldn't be able to walk again."

"Wait… Two?" Izuku questioned. Nakime nodded.

"Yeah, there were two bodies. Jiro Hotta and Ichiro Hotta. Jiro Hotta had his head, shoulders, parts of his chest and an arm eaten, and Ichiro had his throat slit," Nakime said as Izuku blinked. That… wasn't right. There were supposed to be three bodies. The Hotta brothers and Pop.

Did that mean that Koichi and Knuckleduster took the body? That would make sense. That was the only real explanation, because otherwise—

"Heya!" A chipper, feminine sounding voice called out as Izuku snapped in the direction of where it came from. Much to his shock and confusion, dressed in the Aldera uniform, although with a much longer skirt that reached her ankles and less stylized, puffy hair and sunglasses, was Kazuho.

Which made no sense, because last he checked, Izuku killed her.

"Wha…"

"Oh, hiya Haneyama-senpai! Um… What's up?" Nakime asked as Kazuho flashed a thin-lipped smile.

"I hate to bother you two, but can I borrow your boyfriend?" Kazuho asked as Izuku sputtered, and Nakime paled.

"H-he's not my boyfriend!" Nakime declared as Kazuho smirked.

"Sure, sure. I believe you—millions wouldn't, but I do," Kazuho said, before snagging Izuku by the wrist and dragging him away. Izuku, still taken aback, struggled against her admittedly strong grip as Kazuho waved to Nakime. "I'll bring him back in one piece, promise~!"

Kazuho proceeded to drag Izuku a fair distance away from the cafeteria where he had been sitting with Nakime, all the way outside and behind the school before Izuku finally got his wits about him to wrestle himself out of her grip, and when he did, he glowered at her.

"How are you alive?" Izuku demanded as Kazuho frowned.

"I thought you would know, seeing as you did this to me," Kazuho said, lowering her sunglasses to reveal her eyes. Pink sclera, sky blue irises, and cat-like pupils. Izuku was taken aback once more. He did this?

"What the… But… how? I slashed your throat. How does that translate to you… changing? Wait a minute. Do you—"

"Feel the hunger that you described when we "talked?" Yeah. I do. I can't eat ice cream anymore, and I'm pretty sure I told Koichi I was gonna eat him."

"Did you?"

"No!" Kazuho shouted, incredulously, before sighing and crossing her arms. "But I did eat someone… I… I didn't want to. It felt wrong, but…. It was so good…" Kazuho groaned. "It was like I hadn't eaten anything in weeks. I didn't finish it, though. Got too full…"

"I see…" Izuku said, frowning. "That has me curious. This morning, when I got home, I felt something jolt in the back of my head. Like a connection of sorts. Does that mean…" Izuku snapped his fingers, and when he did, Kazuho's left arm jolted at her side, freaking her out.

"Gah! Don't do that!" Kazuho exclaimed as Izuku's eyes widened. It finally sunk in. He had turned Kazuho Haneyama into what he was. He could spread his condition like a virus—like a zombie movie, or a vampire to another vampire! He could also remotely control those he infected, too. It was… interesting, to say the least. The possibilities this showed him were vast. And yet....

"I can turn other people into what I am… But how? What causes it? Is it mere physical contact, or do I need to stab them with my fingers? Or, perhaps its something else entirely…" Izuku mused as Kazuho cringed.

"You're not thinking of making more people like us, are you?" Kazuho asked wearily as Izuku hummed.

"Perhaps, but not at this very moment. I want to see what will happen with you. This goes beyond anything that I knew about myself before. The fact that I can turn other people into what I am shows me that I have more experimenting to do, and I plan on doing so. I just have to find the right people, willing or otherwise," Izuku said as Kazuho shivered.

"That's dark…"

"How else am I supposed to figure this out? I am a deeply curious individual at heart. Speaking of which, what else changed for you, aside from your eyes and noticeable claws?" Izuku asked as Kazuho sighed.

"My prop wings that I wore on my costume fused with my body and became real. I have them tucked underneath my skirt, but it's gonna be problem for the rest of wardrobe," Kazuho said, pouting. "All my cute clothes are gonna have to be cut up just so I can wear them now."

"I see…" Izuku drawled, before frowning. With this information at his disposal, he needed to find a way to figure out how this worked. Tonight, he needed to return to Naruhata. He needed test subjects, but his question would be where…

"You look conflicted," Kazuho said as Izuku nodded.

"Yes, I am. I want to test out this new ability of mine, but I do not know who to test it on…" Izuku said as Kazuho smirked.

"Well, I think I know a way you can test it. Lemme ask you something. Have you ever been to Marukame Department Store?"

"No, I haven't. Why?" Izuku asked as Kazuho smiled.

"Well, before I went and, well… died I was supposed to perform there on behalf of the C.C. Corporation tonight. It was a really big gig. I was really nervous but… that nervousness is gone now—might have to do with the whole supernatural turning into a vampire-zombie thing, but whatever. No one else but Knuckleduster and Koichi know what happened so far as I'm aware. I can get you free access to the event, and there'll be a lot of people you could freely test on if you want."

As Kazuho finished her explanation, Izuku paused in thought. The idea was rather villainous, but then again so was eating people so it wasn't as if he wasn't acting out of turn. His morals, though, complicated the issue.

Morally, what Kazuho was proposing was vile, disgusting, and repulsive.

But, his curiosity screamed at the research that could be done. And he'd have free access, assuming Kazuho could pull her strings right. That, and such a massive event would no doubt attract Stendhal to keep an eye out for villains to kill. It would be knocking two-birds with one stone.

"I see… That is rather convenient. However, what if Koichi and Knuckleduster arrive?"

"Then we'll deal with them. I've already cut ties with them, so why not? Besides, if Koichi shows up, I can make good on my promise. I wonder how he tastes…" Kazuho said as Izuku raised an eyebrow.

"You know how awful that sounds, yes?"

"OH SHUT UP!"

Just as Kazuho shouted that, Izuku narrowed his eyes, before swiftly turning around and snagging a bee behind his head. The insect squirmed in his hand, and notably, it had a vial attached to its rear—or more rather, its rear was a vial. "I see, so you've been stalking me. I do not know you're name, but you have been following me for quite some time, and I've seen you multiple times. I know who you are. Relay this back to your master. When I find you, I will kill you and devour your corpse."

Izuku let the bee go as it buzzed away.

When it fled, Izuku snarled.

He would add a third thing to that list.

He was going to kill the bee user.

[Ending Song: No Title – By: Reol]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: Violence/バイオレンス by: QUEEN BEE]

[Volume 2 – Chapter 7: A Performance to Remember]

Kuin Hachisuka had never been more excited in her life. Which, to the outside world would seem weird, because her life had been threatened directly by the person who she had been following. But, that was for people who knew nothing about who Kuin was as a person.

Kuin was two things. A sadist and a masochist. She both loved inflicting and experiencing pain. It was why whenever she was attacked, she allowed the blows to land. Not just because her real body was protected by the shell she was currently in, but because even if her current self died, another one of her hive would simply recuperate and take her place.

To a regular, every day individual, that thought might scare them. But to Kuin, it was the circle of life. She knew that one day, one of her children would succeed her. It was merely a matter of time. What they would do, and what she would do would be two entirely different things.

And frankly? She was okay with that sort of thing.

Although, this was her before getting into a near-death situation. For all she knew, in the moment, she would be far more terrified.

What she did know, however, was that tonight was the night.

It was going to happen again.

And again.

And again.

Until she had her fun.

Marukame Department Store was the location of the heavily populated concert. It was starting in a few minutes, and she knew damn well that it was going to be a blast. And she meant that literally, because she had plans.

Plans that were supposed to be arriving in a few minutes, according to a very vulgarly worded text message. Kuin was a saint of patience, that much was for sure. Or, perhaps she simply just wanted to see what would happen when someone with an explosion Quirk was boosted on Trigger?

Originally, she had been eyeing up a kid with an Eel Quirk before she had her fated encounter with Moonscent, or as she now knew him as, Midoriya Izuku. The enigma that confused the hell out of her.

He was a boy with seemingly multiple Quirks, but someone that The Boogeyman had no memory of donating power to. He also wasn't effected by Trigger, and was seemingly Immortal given that he came back to life after having his head cut off.

Kuin wanted to know everything there was about him, and she did. She learned about his parents; how one was a stay at home Mom and the other was a deadbeat. She learned who his friends were, and she learned where he lived. If she ever encountered him in person again, she would use that as leverage.

After all, he had threatened to kill her and eat her vessel. Which, while not exactly terrifying to her, did strike fear into said vessel. That vessel being Tamao Oguro. A random run-away who was down on her luck and very, very easy to manipulate and control. Oh, and she had daddy issues. Which, honestly wasn't anything new.

With arms crossed, sitting patiently on a bench across the street, Kuin huffed. "C'mon, where the hell is he? Did he seriously ditch? I'll kill his family if he did…"

"Oi, bee bitch," a gruff, annoyed voice ringed against her skull as Kuin glanced to her left. A wide smile appeared on her face, flashing her teeth and all. Standing just a few feet away from her was the person she was waiting for. Katsuki Bakugo. Blonde, spikey hair, punk attire like a skull shirt and cargo shorts, and the classic sneer that made him look fed up with the world's bullshit.

If it wasn't for the fact that Kuin was just a tad too old for him, and the fact that the vessel actually seemed to like him—which that wouldn't do, no sir—then she probably would've drugged him and had some fun before turning him into a glorified decoy hive. Not her usual target, but it wasn't as if she hadn't done it before.

"Finally, took you long enough," Kuin said before standing up. Bakugo sneered, hands in his pockets.

"The fuck did you want me to come out to Naruhata for. You sure the freak is gonna be here? 'Cause I don't see him."

"Of course you're not gonna see him, silly. No one see's Moonscent before he's got his blade lodged in your neck," Kuin retorted, her tone bored and annoyed sounding. Bakugo recoiled, looking at her as if she had said something wrong.

"The fuck are you talkin' about? Ain't no way that shitty freak is that badass vigilante," Bakugo spat as Kuin shrugged.

"Dunno man. Looked the same to me. You're little friend there is pretty deadly, and a pain in the ass," Kuin replied, putting her hands behind her back as she bent forward a smidge, a wicked smirk on her face. "Now then, we just gotta wait a few minutes. Then, we'll begin the first phase of the plan. But first, you gotta get into that concert."

"Why the fuck would I wanna go to some promo concert! That's not what we agreed to!" Bakugo snarled. "We agreed to beat the shit outta that useless freak, not go on a damn date!"

"You're jumping the gun, pal," Kuin said, standing up straight, frowning. "Midoriya's gonna be at the concert. I saw him go in there with the lead singer. As to why, I dunno. Maybe they know each other. But what I do know is that he's in there. Once you're inside, I'll have one of my bees lead you to him. Then, I'll give you a boost. That way, you'll be able to take him down once and for all. 'Kay?"

"A boost?" Bakugo said, his sneer shifting into a frown as Kuin smiled ear to ear.

"You'll see. No spoilers~!" As soon as she said that, Kuin stuffed a ticket in his hand, then shoved him toward the entrance. Despite his protesting, Bakugo begrudgingly went, and as he did, Kuin sent one of her bees to follow him.

As soon as they faded into the distance, entering the line-up that slowly began to shrink as people entered the department store, the only thing that Kuin could think about was the potential for chaos.

She had anticipated this for the better part of two months now. All of her hard work, all of her bargaining with Rokuro, and now it was finally paying off. Their little Naruhata Experiment was turning into something that was worse celebrating, and it was all thanks to a little mischief and going outside the script.

Tonight was going to be one for the history books, and it was all thanks to her.

Unbeknownst to Kuin, however, someone was looming in the distance, standing atop a roof, holding onto a pair of binoculars. A large smirk took up his visage, albeit it wasn't one of joy. It was one of longing. "I finally found ya, Tamao. Don't worry, Pops is comin' to save ya."

Knuckleduster—Iwao Oguro—had finally ended his search. His daughter was here, and if he had overheard correctly, she was somehow involved in this Trigger mess. Though, if his theory about her being controlled was to be correct, then now he knew exactly what needed to happen.

He was lucky, too. Because he had made one hell of a purchase on a whim. A pair of high-voltage support weapon tasers, refitted into working as a pair of, what else, brass knuckles. This was a long time coming, and he was going to ensure that his daughter was safe.

One way or another, she was coming home. Preferably alive.

A pair of footsteps echoed behind him, as Knuckleduster turned around to meet the individual in question. His expression immediately soured upon seeing the person, his smirk turning into a full on scowl. Full red attire, knives decorating a Kevlar vest, and a single long flowing black ponytail and red face mask, alongside that katana on his back.

"Stendhal. Come back for round two? 'Cause ya picked the worst time possible for it," Knuckleduster sneered as Stendhal huffed.

"You would be incorrect, Knuckleduster. Or, should I say, Oguro Iwao?" Stendhal said as Knuckleduster scowled.

"You go digging into other men's lives for fun or something, punk? Is this supposed to be a threat?" Knuckleduster asked, his tone sarcastic. But nonetheless, Stendhal answered.

"No. I would not dare threaten a father and husband. Rather, I come offering a truce of sorts," Stendhal began as Knuckleduster's expression tightened. A bout of silence began, but it only lasted for a few seconds as Stendhal continued. "I'll will take your silence as you wishing to learn more. Very well. You see, we share a common enemy tonight. That person being the thing that is controlling that child. Oguro Tamao. Your daughter. Through a series of events, including our previous encounter, I've learned something."

"And what's that?"

"That you were right. I was merely posing for justice. I wasn't embodying it like I proclaimed I had been. I now wish to rectify that."

"And how do you suppose ya gonna do that? By cutting up my daughter like she's a scratch post? 'Cause if that's what you're suggesting then—"

"No. I do not intend to inflict torment upon your daughter's body. I merely think that my assistance might be of some use," Stendhal interjected, cutting Knuckleduster off. "My Quirk, Bloodcurdle. I rarely if ever use it. But, now would be the perfect time to do so. Once I lick my adversary's blood, it will immediately paralyze them. Depending on their blood type, this could last 60 seconds to a full two minutes. I believe you can see what I am suggesting?"

"You're thinking of trapping her, slicing her, paralyzing her, and then I knock her out, yeah?" Knuckleduster said, scowl still present on his face as Stendhal nodded.

"Yes. Once she is paralyzed and unconscious, I can remove the insect. I claim my spoils and satisfaction of killing the bug, and you get to take your daughter home. Of course, I've made sure to bring this, as well," Stendhal said, before producing what appeared to be a smoke bomb. "Inside is a chemical compound that will kill all insects within its radius. You trap her, get her cornered, and then I will throw the smoke bomb down, slice and lick, then you knock her out. It will be simple. It will be effective. And less injuries will result from this. It will also make sure that any of the bugs escaping the hive dies alongside The Queen."

"You got a means to communicate?" Knuckleduster asked, before being tossed an earpiece. He snatched it mid air, before putting it in his ear. Meanwhile, Stendhal put his in place, before nodding. "Smart. When ya wanna get this started?"

"Whenever you wish to, Knuckleduster."

And with a smirk as wide and as bloodthirsty—though that might not have been the correct word to describe it—as one like his could get, Knuckleduster spoke. "How about right now?"

[XXXX]

Izuku had to admit, when he was given more details about the concert from Kazuho earlier over the phone, he was expecting something less… impressive than what he stumbled upon. Marukame Department Store and the C.C. Corporation, or as he learned The Captain Celebrity Corporation, had invested a lot of money, time, and effort with the stage.

It was one of the most decorated stages he had ever witnessed—which was the only one to be fair, but it was the sentiment that counted. Bright red curtains, multi-coloured lights, and with the amusing costumes that they wore, Izuku was definitely intrigued.

The performance hadn't begun yet, but he had gotten a brief look at things from backstage. Of course, security had been confused as to why Kazuho had brought him back stage, but she said that it was alright. Koichi had also been there, which had caused some tension between them. Thankfully, as far as Koichi knew, Izuku was not the one responsible for her turning nor the murders.

Of course, Koichi had questions, and really wanted clarification as to what Kazuho had meant when she said what she had said, but thankfully it was allowed to be moved to a later point. The performance was mere minutes away from beginning, and things were moving smoothly.

The song that they were meant to sing was a glorified ad read, but Kazuho asked for a last minute song change. A song she came up with to fit her current mood, and emotions. Running it through the PR team, while it was definitely shaky, with a quick demo, the sponsors were okay with it, and the manager was sufficiently "wooed" by the faux charm Kazuho had put on.

It made Izuku, who was dressed in a more casual outfit tonight, that being a simple pink shirt and black leggings to help support Kazuho by repping her colours, want to test his power out of him first. Of course, it was unrealistic, so he decided to only do so on someone who he deemed worth it. After all, he had seen a success of his turning. He did not know what a failure would entail.

It was funny, though. The other performers, and the woman who she assumed was Kazuho's manager, the woman whom he had saved a few months back during his hunt for Stendhal, after reading the lyrics were confused as to what the meaning of the song was about. Kazuho explained that it was "dedicated to the one who had opened her eyes" which, if he had to guess, meant him.

The back-up dancers weren't really sure what to do for the song, so Kazuho suggested that they sat it out if they didn't think of something in the next thirty minutes, which, despite tensions and upset feelings, they decided to do.

Kazuho's sudden selfishness aside, Izuku was sort of excited for what was to come. However, Kazuho had requested that he waited until the performance was over before he started his testing. He agreed, of course. He wasn't going to ruin her spotlight. Curious, he might be, but he wasn't rude and nor was he heartless.

Although, Izuku was still confused. He still desired to know how it was he somehow turned Kazuho into what he was. Was it truly from just physical contact? Or was it something more profound. Sure, testing was a good idea, but what was he supposed to test with? Just scratching people wasn't going to cut it. He needed concrete information. He needed—

A black-haired man a stood in a crowd—No, he was the black-haired man.

He swiped at someone. A scratch, but it was coated in something.

In blood.

His blood.

The victim collapsed, convulsed for a second, and then he turned.

Inhaling sharply, Izuku stared at the ground, his head throbbing as if it had been slammed against the wall. His breathing was heavy, and his chest ached.

"What… what was that?" Izuku thought, his mind racing. It felt like a memory. He… remembered doing something like that, but it made no sense. The man in the memory, and his current self looked miles and generations apart.

Whatever the memory had been, or whatever it was that had sparked it, it gave him valuable information.

His blood.

It was his blood that turned people, not just physical contact. When he sliced Kazuho's throat, he must've instinctively injected her with his blood, most likely out of memory and instinct alone. A buried memory, but a memory nonetheless.

Gathering himself, Izuku cleared his throat, and put both of his hands in his pockets. He walked through the crowd, keeping an eye out for someone worth his time, while Kazuho did a last second rehearsal. Through her thoughts, he could tell that she was confident, which was good.

Just as Izuku was coming near the edge of the crowd near the back, the lights dimmed, as the spotlights came on, shining on the stage. Izuku turned his attention to the stage as Kazuho came out, dressed in the outfit she was being made to wear. It was her usual vigilante outfit, although it now sported a top hat and red un-buttoned waist coat, with golden stars lining the front as decoration.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, before they locked on him. She flashed him a smile, which he returned in kind, before she spoke. "Hello, everyone!" Kazuho greeted, smiling wide as an eruption of cheers echoed throughout the rooftop where they were located. Izuku recoiled at the sudden noise. He had no idea that Kazuho had so many fans. But then again, she was an idol, so it made sense.

"Hi! Hello! Thank you all for coming out tonight!" Kazuho gushed, her voice sincere. The cheers heightened again, which made Kazuho blush. After a few seconds, it died down, allowing her to speak again without being overtaken. "You all are wonderful, really. This is such a huge event, and it wouldn't have been possible without not only you guys, but Marukame Department Store's, and the C.C. Corporation! Please, give them all a huge round of applause!"

And that was exactly what the crowd, Izuku included did. After all, he was apart of the crowd, so why not? A roar of thunderous applause mixed with whoops and hollers echoed out into the night, followed by some chanting of the name "Marukame" for a few seconds, before it finally died down.

"Alright, thank you, everyone!" Kazuho exclaimed, waving and smiling as she gripped her microphone tight. "Originally, I was going to perform a different song than the one I'm about to tonight. But, plans changed, and… well, I wanted to dedicate this song to a certain someone who I finally met, for real. If it wasn't for them, I might not be here tonight. So, without further delay… Please, listen to me sing!"

A wave of cheers exploded from the audience, as the sound of electric guitars and drums rumbled out of the speakers, and when they briefly began and finished, mellowing out into a simple tune, as Kazuho sang.

"Ah again, all the fear that hides

within my dreams at night

will rise so high before my swollen eyes."

The drums kicked back in, matching the tempo of the peaceful guitar. At first, the crowd didn't know what to do, but then they started clapping alongside the tempo of the beat, whilst Kazuho continued to sing, stepping side to side alongside the beat.

"And as I expect, there's a rose

I find whose colour shines so bright

Like you and stirs my blood inside."

The drums cut off again, as the guitars rhythm changes to a more sharper chord progression, switching up the tempo for a third time as Kazuho continued.

"We don't talk and try all the time

Beyond what lies beyond all the scarring

Ah, I will burn inside and it's by

My only rising feeling, my darling."

The tempo changes again, the guitars rhythm becoming more hectic as the drums kick back in once more, all the while Kazuho continued inhibited.

"You are the only one who has no fear, it seems, and we meet

I only need to have you a long time, ah oh wa ohh oh!

Do not look or see ever deep

But always keep your gaze lookin' all night."

A synthesizer mixes into the beat, rising higher and higher as the lights began to sweep across the stage, before honing in on Kazuho, who continued, her eyes lighting up with anticipation.

"Tears overflow to my lips

Till I can't miss the rain of kiss, yeah oh!"

As soon as she said that, the beat dropped into a frenzied guitar riff, backed up by a steady thumping off a bass drum. As it continued on, the crowd cheered loudly, but not before Kazuho leapt into the air, shouting a single word.

"VIOLENCE!"

As soon as she did, fireworks roared to life across the edges of the roof, exploding into the stores signature colours of red and yellow. Kazuho lingered in the air for just a second, before landing back down gently with the help of her new wings, before continuing alongside the guitar riff.

"Rip and tear away at all you touch

Just like a surgeon's careful cut

Like a chef that's working a dinner rush

Put your tongue right in and let it go

Just as temptation overflows

It's our very own, oh, violence!"

The guitar came to a violent and abrupt end, stringing out a few final chords before it gave out, leaving the song finished, as a frenzied chorus of cheers filled the stage, leaving only a stunned Izuku. The song was definitely not something he'd expect out of someone like Kazuho, having listened to her previously released tracks, but it was definitely something.

"Huh. That was somethin' alright," A voice that Izuku instantly recognized rang out behind him, as Izuku turned to look behind him. His eyes widened, as he was greeted by the casual yet cocky grin of one Katsuki Bakugo. "When I came 'ere, I was expectin' some sappy shit. Not this though. Definitely a surprise. But whatever. I let you have your song—since it was obviously for you—but now it's my turn."

As Bakugo said that, everyone else was distracted by Kazuho saying her thanks and talking to the crowd. No one could have possibly expected for disaster to strike at that exact moment.

Because, as soon as Bakugo finished speaking, a single bee with a vial for an end poked into Bakugo's wrist, dumping what appeared to be trigger into his veins. The moment it did, Bakugo began to change. His muscles expanded, his hands grew larger, and his overall appearance took on more of a brutish, hulk-like figure.

His height nearly doubled, his eyes glowed like a fuse, and his hair began jagged like mountains. His teeth twisted into sharp points like kitchen knives, and as he grew, everyone turned to face the monster that had appeared—even Kazuho—as Bakugo cackled.

"FUCK YEAH! THIS FEEL'S GREAT!" Bakugo shouted, looking down at Izuku, who's expression twisted into frustration and fury. "I'M GONNA ENJOY BLOWIN' YA TO BITS, YOU FREAK! YOU AND THAT STUPID PINK BITCH, AND EVERYONE ELSE WHO GETS IN MY WAY!"

Almost immediately, people began to flee, and it soon became only Izuku and Kazuho. The two stared up at the towering behemoth, who sent a massive explosion toward Izuku, who leapt back, joining Kazuho on stage. "What the hell is that?!" Kazuho shouted as Izuku scowled.

"That, is Katsuki Bakugo. Long time nuisance of mine, powered up by Trigger…"

"Jerk ruined my show! I'm gonna rip out his spine!" Kazuho spat as Izuku huffed.

"As much as I would like to, we cannot. He is more than likely being manipulated by that bee user. We'll have to settle for knocking him out," Izuku stated as Kazuho scowled.

"Fine…"

"Hey, you two!" Koichi's voice rippled out behind them as he came running out.

"Koichi!?" Kazuho shouted, "Didn't I tell you—"

"Save it! We have a villain to deal with," Koichi declared as Kazuho scoffed, but sighed in acceptance.

"Fine…"

"I'm glad we could come to a resolution, but let's stick to what's in front of us," Izuku said, splaying his claws out, eyes narrowed. "We've got a bomb to diffuse."

[Ending Song: No Title – By: Reol]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: Violence/バイオレンス by: QUEEN BEE]

[Volume 2 – Chapter 8: Can't Hold Me Down]

It was almost instant. That was how quick the fight began. Bakugo, in his large, new form closed the gap between the group of three. He thrust a single palm out toward them, preparing to ignite an explosion, only for the group of three to disperse, each going in a separate direction—Koichi to the left, Kazuho above and over, and Izuku to the right.

The explosion erupted, blasting away everything in front of it, blowing away the stage and destroying large swathes of the roof.

"My stage!" Kazuho shouted, as Bakugo cackled. In retaliation, Kazuho sneered, narrowing her eyes before diving down on Bakugo, slamming the heel of her boot into the back of his head. Despite her extra strength, it barely made Bakugo so much as move, as most of the blow was absorbed by his massive head of hair.

Swirling around on his heel, Bakugo turned and grabbed Kazuho, catching her off guard. The palm of his hand began to glow, indicating that he was about to detonate a point-blank explosion on her. But, before it could go off, Izuku leapt into the air and round-house kicked his wrist, forcing Bakugo to let go and drop Kazuho, preventing the explosion from going off.

"YOU FUCKING FREAK!"

"Look who's talking!" Kazuho quipped, dusting herself off. Meanwhile, Koichi flanked Bakugo's left, positioning his palm at his knee and firing off a blast of concentrated air. Bakugo stumbled backward, if only slightly before regaining his balance, earning a smile from Kazuho. "Nice one!"

"Thanks!" Koichi called out, before narrowly avoiding an explosion from Bakugo that ripped up the flooring, and even created a few holes in the roof, sending rubble to the below floors. Luckily, the building was shut down for the concert, so no one was inside.

"Crawler, did you call for back up?!" Izuku asked as Koichi nodded.

"Yup! Eraserhead and Present Mic should be on the way, Moonscent!" Koichi replied. For a moment, Izuku was taken aback by how he knew that he was Moonscent, until he remembered that he did show him and the others his face.

"SHUT UP AND DIE ALREADY!" Bakugo yelled, throwing another explosion their way, prompting them to dodge, spreading out in a cone to avoid the devastation.

"Is he always this stupid?!" Kazuho asked as Izuku shook his head.

"No! It's probably the trigger dumbing him down!" Izuku replied, lunging forward, closing the distance between himself and Bakugo. He aimed to kick him the face in an attempt to knock him down, but it didn't pan out. Bakugo swatted him out of the air mid leap, causing him to crash into the ground and slam into the right ledge, barely avoiding falling to the ground below.

While Izuku's attack didn't do well, it left an opening for Kazuho, who flanked Bakugo's right, snuck behind him, and leapt into the air behind him to deliver a side-kick to the back of his head. This time, it actually made contact, knocking him forward. Koichi took the chance to sneak in front of him to blast him in the chest with short ranged repulsive blasts, spinning Bakugo to the side opposite of Izuku, as he let out a growling shout.

However, Bakugo thrust out his left hand, blasting an explosion toward the ledge, blowing it to smithereens but keeping him standing. Then, he kicked, his overgrown foot slamming into Koichi, sending him flying into the emergency exit, ripping the door off its hinges with the impact and shaking the small structure.

"Koichi!" Kazuho shouted, just as Bakugo turned to grab her again. She was able to fly out of his grasp, and just as he whiffed the attack, she dove in, claws at the ready as she sliced up his arm, blood spewing from the slash. Bakugo shouted in pain, but he didn't let it stop him. He slung explosion after explosion directed at Kazuho, who was able to barely dodge each one.

Until she didn't.

The final explosion in the chain of explosions hit her, clipping her right arm and some of her shoulder, blowing them off wholesale as she came crashing to the ground, landing with a thump. She hissed, pain searing across her body as it slowly, very slowly, began to regenerate.

"FINALLY HIT YOU, YOU ANNOYING BITCH!" Bakugo celebrated, raising his foot up to stomp on her, his shadow looming overhead. Kazuho sneered, panic fueling her body as she just barely rolled out of the way.

From the sidelines, Izuku finally got up, fixing his shoulder and putting it back into place after it was dislocated. Just in time to watch Kazuho avoid getting stomped on. Izuku lunged into action, grabbing Bakugo by the leg and tripping him, finally getting him to fall on his back. At which point, Izuku shouted over to where Koichi had been tossed.

"Crawler! ETA on the backup!?"

Just as Izuku asked, Koichi came out, holding his shoulder, clearly injured. "A minute… They'll be here in a minute!" Koichi replied as Izuku grunted in approval. One minute. They needed to keep him distracted for one more minute, just so he didn't rampage anywhere else. Even if Bakugo, in his drugged state of mind, was concentrated on them, who knew what could set him off in this state.

When he referred to Bakugo as a bomb, he meant it.

Bakugo was dangerous, even without being boosted by trigger. It was why he didn't want to turn him into… whatever it was that he and Kazuho were. Yes, the power would be nice, but setting aside their one-sided beef, Bakugo was not one to listen, and wouldn't like the fact that he could be controlled by a snap of Izuku's fingers.

Therefore, whatever idea he had to turn him into another creature like he and Kazuho was dashed the second it came to mind. Not to mention, he didn't want to give up the game in front of Koichi like this. It would be idiotic.

Izuku glanced to look at Kazuho. Most of her shoulder and some of her arm were regenerated, but she was pretty much down for the time being. All she could do was dodge, and act as a nuisance. He didn't want to risk her getting damaged again, so he decided to go on a full frontal assault.

Bakugo got up, and charged toward Izuku, roaring like a monster all the while. Izuku dodged out of the way of an explosion, then another, and another, before he leapt into the air once more, and landed a hammer kick down on his face. Using the propulsion to continue being in the air, Izuku fell back down to the ground, before hooking his claws into Bakugo's shoulder without dumping his blood into him.

Bakugo tried to swat him away, but Izuku flipped forward, passing by his face and scratching with his claws, tearing open his cheek. Bakugo grunted in pain, as Izuku kicked him in the jaw, forcing Bakugo to stagger to the left.

Koichi, seeing an opportunity to try and get a free shot in, closed the distance between himself and Bakugo's left, and using his good arm blast a propulsion blast into his left side, mimicking what he had done before. However, unlike before when he was kicked into the emergency exit, Izuku had him covered, kicking Bakugo's leg out from under him as he landed in front of him, forcing him down to a knee.

Bakugo thrust his palm out in front of him, directly aiming at Izuku as he shouted "DIE, FREAK!" The explosion went off, consuming Izuku in totality.

"MOONSCENT/MIDORIYA!" Both Koichi and Kazuho shouted as Bakugo smiled.

The dust settled, and all they saw was an armless, heavily burned and bloodied body. For any normal person, such damage would kill them in an instant. No one could possibly survive such a devastating blow.

But Izuku was not human.

And so Bakugo's smile quickly turned into a shocked and surprised grimace, as Izuku's flesh began to regenerate, and it did so extremely quickly. Muscle and bone grew back in seconds, as flesh quickly covered the new muscle. In just a few seconds, Izuku was back to normal, albeit lacking a shirt, revealing his fit appearance underneath.

"WHAT THE FUCK!? HOW?! YOU SHOULD BE DEAD!?"

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and say that the trigger flowing through your system isn't making you think right, Bakugo…" Izuku sneered, teeth bared and expression comprised of fury. "But you should know… if that was someone else, you would have killed them. Luckily for you—"

In an instant, Izuku was behind him. It was a burst of speed that not even Izuku knew he had, but he wasn't thinking clearly himself, fueled by nothing but anger and resentment toward the mutilation and humiliation he had received.

And as he floated behind him, his eyes glowed a deep, translucent red that shined in the night. Power surged through his body as something rippled just underneath his skin.

"I'm. Not. Normal!"

And whether Izuku knew it or not…

The years of consuming blood.

The bodies he had eaten.

It all finally converged into something beyond just mere physical strength.

8 years of storing power, of growing in strength, consuming what would amount to be over 1,000 people in terms of blood, finally gave way to something that resembled a true, "flashy" Quirk.

And in a glimpse of a memory, he recalled a name for this power.

And that power was….

"BLOOD DEMON ART – BIOKENSIS: BONE WHIPS!"

And in an instant, a flurry of thin, black, spiked whips exploded out of Izuku's back and rushed toward Bakugo, lashing him across his body so fast that the brute had no chance in dodging any of the attacks. All of the slashes tore up Bakugo's skin, like a razor wind of motion that whipped, slashed, and cut. Bakugo raised his arms to protect his face as much as possible, but it wasn't enough.

After just three seconds of Bone Whips being active, Bakugo finally felt exhaustion due to blood loss, all it would take was one more concrete attack to do him in.

And as the Bone Whips retracted back into Izuku's back, just as he landed, he was about to deliver that final blow, when suddenly….

"BOOYAHHHHHHHH!"

A loud, explosive cone of sound crashed into Bakugo, deafening the surrounding area as Kazuho, now with her fully regenerated limb, covered her ears, as did Koichi and Izuku. Bakugo, however, wasn't so lucky, as the deafening, bone rattling soundwave hit him square on, not only stunning him, but forcing him to pass out.

Just as that happened, a dark grey cloth suddenly wrapped around Bakugo's unconscious, mutated form, restraining him as Pro Hero Eraserhead landed atop the emergency exit, pulling on capture scarf. His eyes glowed a haunting yellow, blending into his googles, making it hard to see what direction he was looking in. Although, it was clear that he was staring at Bakugo.

"Hmm. His form isn't changing."

"It's because of trigger, Eraserhead! He's being doped, possibly against his will!" Koichi clarified as Eraserhead nodded.

"Another instant villain then. I understand. You kids get out of here before I have to write you up," Eraserhead said, as all three of them left as commanded. While they wanted to stick around to see what would happen to Bakugo, they also didn't want to get implicated in the brawl. Izuku had enough run-ins with the law for the rest of his life. He didn't need another.

Besides, he had a lot on his mind as it was.

"Blood Demon Art… Does that mean I'm a demon?" Izuku pondered, questions piling on top of one another. While it sucked that his experiment never went through, today had showed him that there was something more going on with him.

That, and he finally got an answer to the question that had been burning him up for the last few months.

He finally knew what he, and now Kazuho, were.

They were demons.

[XXXX]

Having watched from a distance, Kuin had been thoroughly disappointed. She had expected something more flashy from someone with an explosion Quirk while on trigger. Not for them to hulk out, grow bigger, and throw around more powerful explosions. She expected something like a suicide bomber.

"Man, how lame…" Kuin groaned. "This was such a bummer…"

"Not entirely, Hachisuka. This is good data. Not to mention it was much more cost-effective than your initial proposal. However, as much as this is fun to observe, and as much as this data is excellent for our research, we are going to have to pull the plug on the Naruhata experiment. The Boss wants us to focus our efforts on the one known as Moonscent, aka Midoriya Izuku."

"Bah! Are you kidding me?! He isn't even effected by Trigger! What's the point?!"

"It is not about whether he is effected by Trigger or not. It is about something more than that. Kuin, your new mission is clear. Isolate and capture Midoriya Izuku by any means you see fit. And yes, that is a confirmation for you to attack his family and friends. I know you have been chomping at the bit to do so."

A wicked smile took up her visage the moment those words fell out of Rokuro's face. "Finally!"

"However, I would like to point out that this does not mean you get to use them for hives. It is a simple assassination gig. Do not go overboard. We still need to keep the veil of anonymity with this attack. We do not need for there to be evidence that leads back to us. That would only make things worse. Do not fail me."

Kuin's expression soured, rolling her eye as she groaned. "Oh my God, Rokuro. Shut up. Stop your yapping, it's getting boring. I don't need a sermon about cost effectiveness right now, I'm tryna live in the moment, ya know?"

"Don't like sermons, huh?" A gruff sounding voice rumbled behind Kuin as the line in her ear went dead, prompting her to look over her shoulder. As she did, her eye—against her control—widened. "Big shocker. I don't think anyone likes getting lectured, especially young ladies. You're at that age where getting talked at just won't do."

While outwardly, her expression was cool, calm, and collected, internally she was panicking. "No way… It's… It's my—no… It's my vessels Dad… But how? I was keen on avoiding him!? How did he find me?!" As Kuin thought that, she sneered. "What's the big deal, ya old fool."

"I'm just sayin' I understand more than you think. So how about we make this short, yeah?" Knuckleduster grunted, as the large pair of electric brass knuckles sparked to life, flaring all around the massive metal contraption. He assumed an offensive stance, smiling as he spoke. "You're comin' home Tamao. Mom's waiting."

"Ha! Fat chance. 'Sides, I dunno who the hell you are!" Kuin spat, standing up as Knuckleduster scowled.

"I ain't talkin' to ya, Bee User. I'm talkin' to the girl who you forced yourself on. I'm talking to Tamao Oguro!" And as soon as Knuckleduster said that, Kuin couldn't help but laugh as he charged toward her, fist prepared and ready to strike.

She dodged to the left, unamused, "Way too slow… dude," however, just as she dodged that attack, a follow up came out of nowhere, slamming into the side of her face and sending her flying. It wasn't a taser blast, but a regular punch, and it hurt like hell. She landed on her feet, blood trailing down the side of her face as she sneered.

"You brought shock equipment just to hit me anyway?! The fuck is wrong with you, I thought you didn't want to harm the merchandise?!" Kuin shouted, glaring at Knuckleduster, who smiled, bearing his teeth.

"I actually don't wanna hit ya with a blast of this stuff. Top shelf gear, high voltage, high amperage. I graze a limb, and you drop like a sack of bricks. A hit to the chest could stop your heart. Real lethal, ya know?" Knuckleduster said, charging toward Kuin, who scoffed.

"A bluff then!" Kuin spat, as a swarm of bees came flying out from around her, swarming Knuckleduster, who laughed.

"Swarming me with worker bees?! What ya planning on doing to me, dosing me with Trigger?! That ain't gonna do nothing to someone without a Quirk! 'Sides, all I gotta do is smash that Queen in your head, right Tamao?!" Knuckleduster shouted, dodging in-between the swarm of bees, only for one of them to blow up, forcing him to block to protect his face.

Kuin's covered eye spluttered out blood as she laughed, although it was seemingly a pained laugh. "Ha ha ha! You moron! These ain't the drugging ones, these are special! Their bombs!" Kuin shouted, sinister smile taking up her visage as she pointed in Knuckledusters direction. "Eat this, ya crotchety old fool! Get swarmed by a buncha bomb bees!"

However, instead of dodging, like he easily could have, he smirked, and as the bees swarmed him and exploded, a cloud of dust covered the entire perimeter, enveloping Kuin as she coughed, but smiled all the while, laughing as she did so.

"KYAA HA HA! GET BLOWN TO BITS, YOU MORON!" Kuin shouted, but just as she did, she coughed…. And coughed some more. Until flecks of blood began to trickle out of her mouth and more blood began to pour out of her eye… followed by corpses of bees that hadn't even been deployed to fall out of her eye, and spew out of her mouth like a rushing waterfall of death and despair.

"HUH!? WHAT THE FUCK!?" Kuin thought, panicked. The dust settled, as all the bees that had swarmed Knuckleduster lied at his feet, dead. His smirk was large, and his eyes were wild.

"Nice try, but you should never underestimate your opponent…"

And then, she felt something slash across her back, sending her to the ground as a wave of paralysis shuddered throughout her body. Her eyes widened even more than they were before, as a pair of red boots landed next to her. She looked up, her expression twisting into something beyond fury.

Because the man who she was looking up at, was none other than Stendhal.

"…Or their allies, bug."

"You… you traitorous swine! We'll have your head! You hear me! I'll—"

"You'll do nothing. Your hive is dead. Everything you worked for is lost," Stendhal mocked, taking his mask off and throwing it to the side, revealing a rather attractive looking young man underneath, smooth skin, piercing black eyes, and maintained black hair. "You have a lot of nerve possessing one of the students at the school I work at," as Stendhal said that, he picked up Kuin's paralyzed form, hoisting her forward before looking Knuckleduster in the eyes. "Knuckleduster, if you would?"

"With pleasure," Knuckleduster said, smirking as he approached. He reared turned off the zapper, before slugging Kuin in the head. In an instant, she was unconscious. As soon as her head slumped, Stendhal took one of the switch blades out from his vest, before thrusting them into the empty eye socket. Knuckleduster was taken aback as something was pierced by it, only for Stendhal to drag out a bloated looking bee, his knife piercing the sack.

"And this, is our culprit. A mutated bee," Stendhal spat, dropping it to the ground before crushing it under his foot. "And now it's gone."

Tamao's body slumped, as Stendhal checked for a pulse, frowning. "It's weak" Stendhal said, before passing Tamao over to Knuckleduster, who took her with urgency written in his face. "Get an ambulance. I will depart for now. Go. Our truce is fulfilled. We will be going our separate ways," Stendhal said, turning his back. Just as he was about to leave, Knuckleduster spoke up.

"Hold up," Knuckleduster said as Stendhal stopped, looking back at him. "What are you gonna do now?"

Stendhal frowned, drawing himself into thought, his expression turning thoughtful. "I… am more than likely going to quit. I have done enough harm as it is. I will remain as a janitor, and possibly dig into my family roots. I have a feeling that something is going to happen soon, and it will come in handy."

Stendhal paused, looking away from Knuckleduster, preparing to flee into the night. But, before he did… "Thank you, Oguro. You have helped me see the light. I won't soon forget this."

And then, he leapt away.

Not too long afterward, a few ambulances were called to the scene. Both Bakugo and Tamao were taken to the hospital to watch over their wounds. While at the hospital, Knuckleduster, aka Iwao Oguro, would be informed that his wife's condition had entered critical condition.

Later that day, Tsunade Oguro would pass away.

Meanwhile, the next day, watching from the sidelines outside of the Naruhata hospital, expression devoid of emotion with narrowed eyes, a man dressed in a light blue jump suit and hat frowned.

"Well, that's a shame… Kuin and her hive are gone… Such a waste of time and money…" The man muttered, before looking over to one of the ambulances, his frown deepening as he caught the appearance of the person responsible for his plans blowing up in his face. "Midoriya Izuku… No. That ain't ya real name. That's your mothers married name. Soriyama Izuku… What the hell are you? And why are you so damn annoying?"

The man huffed, taking his hat off as he brushed a hand through his hair. He had seen both fights take place, and frankly, he was frustrated the Stendhal, Akaguro—whatever he wanted to be called—would betray them. But, he knew it was bound to happen. He was always more hero than he was villain. Just misguided.

He had been hoping that Kuin could've corrupted him, but, unfortunately that didn't happen. That old fart had set him straight, and it was a real disappointment. Overall, aside from the data samples that they had collected, Naruhata turned out to be a massive failure.

Not only was it a waste of money, it was also a waste of time.

"Oh well, maybe it wasn't a complete failure," Rokuro Nomura said, smirking, turning his back on the few ambulances, hands in his pockets as he walked away.

Naruhata might have been a failure, but his overall goal was still in motion.

Besides, now he had a new target to take his frustration out on, alongside that nuisance Koichi Haimawari.

He wondered what would happen if he applied a little bit of pressure…?

Soon, the news footage of what happened in Naruhata would spread, including the footage of Izuku's attack on Bakugo, although names were not given out, nor were descriptions, so their anonymity was kept.

In Sendai….

A man with white hair sat on a tatami mat, staring in front of a television with a scowl on his face, dressed in deep purple robes. Behind him, in the shadows, three sword-carrying individuals stood.

"What is your conclusion, master?" One of them asked as the white-haired man glanced over his shoulder, light purple eyes shining with determination.

"He's returned. Before he regains his power, we should kill him. Go. And while you are at it, get rid of that unruly sister of yours. She has gone AWOL."

"Your wish is our command, Master." And with that, the group of three departed for Musutafu, leaving the old man by himself. Once they were gone, the old man closed his eyes, a stern frown on his face, his right hand clutching into a fist.

"Oh, Inko… Why didn't you listen to me? I told you your son would be nothing but danger, but you did not listen. You never listened. Foolish daughter, why are you like this?" The old man, the great grandson of Kiriya Ubuyashiki, Suguru Soriyama, muttered.

In Hosu….

Yushiro Yamamoto stared at his TV screen, eyes carrying that of a judgmental glare. "So, you've returned, haven't you, Muzan?" Yushiro murmured, letting out a shuddered breath as he turned to one of his many paintings. "My lady… I'm sorry. But it seems your death truly was in vain after all…."

As Yushiro spoke, he stood up, and walked over to a sword holder just above his front door. It was a final gift from an old friend of his. A blade he had maintained long past his death, and had frequently repaired as it needed to be.

"But, perhaps… you won't turn out like the man you were before?" Yushiro hummed, reaching for the blade as he gently carried it, brushing his hand against the sheath. "Tanjiro… What would you have done in this moment? Would you have set out to hunt this new Demon King? Or would you have tried to reason with him?"

Whatever the case might have been, Yushiro knew one thing was for certain.

A new era of Demonkind was on the horizon…

And once again, humanity was at risk.

[Ending Song: No Title – by Reol]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: Memories – By: ONE OK ROCK]

[Volume 3 – Chapter 1: I'm With You, By Your Side]

The Naruhata Incident, i.e. the event where a Trigger amped Katsuki Bakugo, tricked into becoming an Instant Villain, happened yesterday. In the last 24 hours, so many things happened. So many revelations. So many possibilities opened. It was a lot for Izuku to handle, but luckily he was able to take it in stride.

For starters, he discovered that he could turn others into beings such as he, albeit much weaker like he was when he was first born 12 years ago. It was done by injecting an individual with his blood, and even then, there was only a chance it could work. Though he had only ever done it once, he had an instinctual feeling that there was also a chance for it to fail.

What the failure looked like, Izuku did not know, and quite frankly, he didn't know if he wanted to see what would happen. Although, he knew that some point in the future, it would not matter whether he wanted it to happen or not. It simply would.

The second revelation that he had stumbled upon was that, while he knew that consuming blood would make him stronger, he did not know that doing enough of it would allow him to awaken even more unique abilities. Said abilities were called "Blood Demon Arts" and his, in particular, was called Biokinesis.

Of course, he wanted to test it out right away. His curiosity spiking upon figuring out that he could freely manipulate his body. And so, that was exactly what he did.

The first thing that he learned was that he could alter everything about his body, even down to his genetic code. He could age himself to look older, he could make himself look younger, he could completely transform his gender into the opposite sex, and that was just the start. He could darken and lighten his skin tone, change the colour of his eyes, he could give himself both sets of reproductive organs both internal and external—the list went on and on.

Of course, there were also combative uses for it. He could transform any part of his body into a weapon, he could create multiple limbs. One of his first techniques was the ability to create razor thin whips made of bone from his back.

It was funny. When his mother had walked in on him experimenting with his body by doing from male to female, she almost had a heart attack. It was both amusing and worrying, but she was okay with it in the end.

Izuku also learned that it was a very painless process. And while it made his conflictions about his gender a tad on the worse side, it was a simple fix.

It was weird. There were days he felt like a girl, trapped in the body of a man, but then there were other days where he felt comfortable in his own skin as a man. Sometimes he felt like nothing at all. At the time, there was no remedy for it. But now, there was.

The third and final thing that he had discovered about himself was that now, he finally had an answer to the question that had been terrorizing him ever since Stendhal had asked it—someone who he was a little upset about not encountering at the concert or even after the fact, but that was entirely unrelated.

The answer as to what he was, was that Izuku Midoriya, child of Inko Midoriya, was not a human, but a demon.

Not the traditional "fire and brimstone" type of demon that those of the west believed in, but more in-line with traditional eastern-religion types of demons. Monsters born of humanities sins that fed upon the very people that created them. Creatures with power so fierce, so terrifying, that it eclipsed even the strongest of humans.

But, more importantly, as far as Izuku knew, he was the first. The was the progenitor. Making him the strongest demon of them all. Although, he didn't allow it to get to his head. He knew full well that he was still a solid ways away from becoming anything meaningful. He had only just unlocked his Blood Demon Art, which—if his math was correct—took him the equivalent of 1,000 human corpses worth of blood to unlock.

It was quite the pre-requisite, but it wasn't anything he couldn't do.

Which then brought him to the question of Kazuho Haneyama.

After the fight with Bakugo, she seemed less interested in eating Koichi. Which was good. Koichi was a good person, and the last thing he wanted was to have him die. He was a proper, well-mannered individual who he had grew to respect. His drive to help others inspired him, quite frankly, and it made him want to be a force of good in the world; even if his means would be seen as villainous by the rest of the public.

Kazuho was also the kind of person who, in hindsight, didn't make for a good demon. She was good natured, if now twisted more than likely due to his blood's influence. Demons were typically seen as evil, purely for sake of it. But Kazuho was not that. Kazuho was a good person.

What was he going to do with her?

With the knowledge that he could manipulate his cells, and with the knowledge that he could manipulate the demon's he created, he didn't know what to do with her. A dark part of his mind told him to be rid of her, but he shut it down before the thought could even process. He was not a monster. Not yet, anyway. He wasn't going to "get rid" of anyone just because it would inconvenience him.

He would have to discuss things with her once he got the chance too. But for now, it could wait. Because right now, he had a place to be, and he made sure to be well dressed for. Nothing too fancy, but just good looking enough that he didn't put the wrong foot forward.

Izuku found himself wearing a white, button-up V-neck, floral collar dress shirt and a pair of black seamless dress pants, with rolled up cuffs. His shoes were fairly expensive, being designer leather dress shoes with thin black laces. He also wore a dark red tie, to complete the outfit, alongside a watch.

The reason for the overly fancy attire was due to who he was going to see, and their presumed status. He had also nearly forgot about it due to the multitude of events that happened over the course of the week, but that was neither here nor there.

He was going to visit his friend, Himiko Toga.

Now, as to why his attire was fancy, it had to do with the fact that the Toga family was rather affluent. Not absurdly rich and politically powerful like, say for example, the Yaoyorozu family or the Neito family. But the Toga family was still well-respected, and was still a political presence. Being invited to their home was an honour, his feelings on them aside.

When his mother found out, she nearly had a heart attack. Thankfully, with his income as a Mangaka, he was able to save up for a decent outfit. It wasn't the best, and the brands weren't all designer, but it wasn't as if he was rich himself. He was 12, and he made a decent living of 8.9 million Yen a year, which was better than most office workers and teachers. It also didn't help that his Manga, I Really, Really Love Sakura-Chan, was on the top 20 selling Shojo Manga list this month, which gave a massive boost to his sales, and some bonus revenue for the end of the month.

As for the Toga's, from what he knew about them, The Toga family were entrepreneurs who invested in several business and were actually some of the investors of the concert that was attacked in Naruhata. Like he noted before, they were very influential people. However, it didn't reflect in their house.

The Toga household was a standard two floor house in a, albeit rather nice, neighbourhood in the suburb part of Musutafu, which was just a twenty minute walk from the private school that Himiko attended. The exterior walls were painted white, and there were two windows spaced out between the front door. One protruding from the left and the other off to the side on the right.

The second floor had a balcony with a sliding window door, and the roof was sloped with a chimney. The colour of the roof was dark brown, as was the balcony railing. Surrounding the house was a white picket fence, and they had a small garden in the front alongside the house. Notably, they grew red spider lilies—a symbol of death and moving on. It was a strange flower to grow for the heck of it, but who was he to knock on other people's hobbies?

He and Himiko had texted back and forth with each other over the last week, excluding the last two days for obvious reasons, and she had been rather worried when he had told her he was in Naruhata two days ago, considering the attack at the concert which he had mentioned attending. Of course, he didn't tell her that he was a vigilante nor did he tell her that he was the one who had actually helped take down the Instant Villain.

Himiko knew a lot about his life, but that was a part he purposely made sure to keep out. If Nakime didn't know, than neither would Himiko. Besides, he liked to separate his double life if possible. The last thing he needed was to for them to blend together. It would make a mess of things.

Of course, therein lied a bit of a problem.

Izuku was invited over for dinner.

Izuku could not consume regular food. In fact, the only thing he could consume was blood and, as he now learned, human flesh.

Himiko's parents were rather discriminatory when it came to blood-related Quirks.

Izuku's "Quirk" was blood-related. Not that they knew. As far as they were going to know, he could see in the dark and had enhanced reflexes, assuming the question was asked.

The excuse he was going to use come time for the dinner part of this arrangement was that he had a specific diet of raw meat due to drawback of his Quirk. On the way here—seeing as he had chosen to walk and take the train, was a slab of someone's arm, flayed and shaped to look like steak. The person he took it from was someone plotting to rob an old lady.

He never got the chance.

It was resting comfortably in a Ziploc bag, which itself was inside of his back pack. As it turned out, Himiko offered for him to stay the night and her parents accepted. Within, he had a change of clothes, a sleeping bag, as well as his drawing supplies. He needed to start work on his next chapter, after all.

With a sigh, Izuku looked up at the house, then approached the front door. He gently knocked three times, and after a moment and a scurrying of footsteps, the door opened to reveal Himiko.

Himiko's hair was down, her golden irises shining with delight. She was dressed in a casual set of clothes, that being a bright yellow shirt with a character on it that he didn't recognize, alongside a pair of loose-fitting dark blue shorts and white socks.

"Izu-kun! I'm so glad you're here!" Himiko exclaimed as Izuku smiled.

"Well, I wasn't going to miss this. It would be rude to not come when I was invited," Izuku said as Himiko brought him with a hug. He was a little taken aback, but he accepted it all the same and hugged back. Himiko was always a bit on the affectionate side, even if it was against her parents wishes. There were just somethings you couldn't change, he supposed.

She let go, allowing him to step into the house proper as he took off his shoes. The first thing he immediately noticed was the cross hanging one of the walls. These people were apart of the rare few in Japan who were Christian. Obviously, Toga did not subscribe to their belief, but he assumed that she played along to make them happy. So to shall he, in that case.

The rest of the entrance wasn't very interesting. There was a welcome mat, and directly in front of him was a hallway, and next to that was a staircase that went up to the second floor, which he assumed all the bedrooms were.

Off to the right of the hallway, from what he could glimpse, was the kitchen, and down the hallway he assumed was the dining room, and further inward he also assumed the living room was there.

"A very nice home you have, Himiko. Leagues better than my dinky apartment," Izuku joked as Himiko snickered.

"Don't say that, Izu-kun," Himiko said, blushing slightly.

"Himiko, is our guest here?" A voice called out from the kitchen as Himiko's mood soured slightly, noticeable in the way her eyes sort of glossed over.

"Yes, Mom! He's here!" Himiko replied as, after a little shuffling in the room adjacent to the hallway, a rather gorgeous woman walked out. She, like Himiko, had golden eyes, but unlike Himiko she had dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail. She was dressed in a long-sleeve pink shirt and a pair of black leggings. Noticeably, she had a birth mark above her upper lip, and her smile radiated a welcoming sensation.

"Hello, dear! You must be Midoriya Izuku! A pleasure to finally meet you," The woman said as Izuku bowed.

"Thank you, Toga-san, for welcoming me to your home. It's truly an honour," Izuku replied as the woman giggled.

"Oh, you're so polite. You're mother must be proud of you. And you're so young, too! How old are you, Midoriya-kun?" The woman asked as Izuku stood up straight, a faint smile on his face.

"I'm 12, ma'am."

The woman gasped in shock. "12! But you sound way older than someone's who's that young! And you're much, much more well-behaved than most other 12-year-olds I've met. Himiko, you made such a great friend!"

"Well, he more or less kind of forced himself to be my friend…" Himiko muttered as Izuku smirked. The way how they met was kind of silly, all things considered. Their friendship started when Himiko was having a panic attack. Her body was rebelling against her, due to her lack of blood, and she was a sobbing mess at the park.

Izuku, at the time, had been going on a walk and had a small packet of blood on him. When he asked Himiko what was wrong, she at first denied that he would be able to understand, but after poking and prodding a few times, she eventually told him what was wrong. When he offered her his pouch of blood she had to do a triple take to make sure he wasn't lying to her.

When he convinced her that he wasn't trying to prank her, she took it, and to say she felt leagues better than she had ever felt in years was an understatement. From that day on, they were friends. They would meet up at that specific park every few days, and he would give her blood. Overtime, two years to be exact, he genuinely grew to enjoy her company, which led to now.

"I didn't force myself to be your friend. I just wanted to help someone who I saw to be struggling," Izuku said as Himiko's mother smiled.

"That's so sweet of you, Midoriya-kun. I should probably let you go though. I'm sure you and Himiko have plans, right?" She said as Himiko nodded.

"Uh-huh! Just call for us when dinner's ready!" Himiko said, as Izuku blinked. He almost forgot.

"Right. I should probably mention," Izuku said as Himiko winced. This was the part that was going to either cause problems or not. "It's about dinner, tonight."

"Oh? Is something wrong? We're having stir-fry and shrimp, if that's okay?" Himiko's mom said as Izuku frowned.

"No, that's perfectly fine. But, this moreso applies to myself. You see, I was born with a chronic condition that does not allow me to consume food. At all. My body does not absorb it properly and it makes me violently ill. So much so I was hospitalized for it when I was four," Izuku explained as Himiko's mom gasped.

"Oh, dear! I'm so sorry to hear that! I didn't know… Himiko never told me. Oh gosh, now I feel rude…." Himiko's mom said as Izuku waved it off.

"It's not a problem. You see, I have a work around, and it was prescribed for me a while ago. I'm aware you and your husband do not… like Blood-related Quirks, correct?" Izuku asked as Himiko's mom pursed her lips.

"It's not that we do not like Blood-related Quirks. After all, Himiko has one, and my husband does as well. It more has to do with the consumption of blood. It's sinful, after all. God rebukes those who do as worshippers of the devil," Himiko's mom explained as Izuku nodded. At least now he knew the reason for their distaste for Himiko's Quirk. They used God as an excuse.

"How repugnant," Izuku thought bitterly, clearing the thought away before his expression twisted. "I see. Well then, unfortunately, I can only consume blood. However, I did so before I got here, so that way you won't have to see me do it."

Himiko's mother's expression turned into a frown, clearly unhappy. "I see. Well, as long as it does not happen under my roof, I do not mind. But please, do not try and get Himiko to do it as well. She has been good lately, and the last thing we need is for someone to corrupt her."

"I understand, ma'am. You can rest assured I've done no such thing. Himiko expressed to me how taboo it is for you and your family."

"Good," Himiko's mother replied, curtly. It was clear that she didn't like the conversation. "Well, off with you. I'll let the two of you know when dinner is ready. You will at least sit with us, yes?"

"Of course. It would be rude not too," Izuku answered as Himiko's mother expression returned to a smile.

"Okay!" Himiko's mother said, before looking at Himiko. "Oh, and Himiko. Your father is on his way home. Is your room clean?"

"Yup!"

"Laundry is folded?"

"Yuppers~!"

"And the kitchen table is set?"

"100%!"

"Alright then, you're free to go," and with that, Himiko's mom went back into the kitchen, as Himiko motioned for him to follow her to her room. Once they got up the stairs and turned the corner, they made it to Himiko's room.

Her bedroom was rather simple. It had a dresser, a single-sized bed with a few plushies, a wooden closet that was right next to her bed, and a desk to do homework and draw. Aside from that, there wasn't much else. There was enough floor space for his sleeping bag, assuming he was sleeping in her room.

"Welp, this is my room! It's not much, but ya know," Himiko said as Izuku nodded. It wasn't nearly as detailed as his room was, but then again, he was an anomaly as far as that went. Closing the door behind them, Izuku turned to look at Himiko, placing his bag down in the corner of her room.

"Did they find it?" Izuku asked as Himiko's expression saddened, nodding slowly.

"Yeah…" Himiko said, rubbing her arm uncomfortably. "They found all my hiding spots for it. I don't think I can bring it home anymore. At best, I can bring it to my grandpa's, but then they'd get suspicious of that, too…"

"I see," Izuku said, clearly unhappy. "You never told me your family was Christian."

"Well, I guess it never crossed my mind," Himiko said, sitting on the edge of her bed, hands resting firmly against the edge where her knees were. "I mean, yeah, I go to church with them. I play the whole song and dance. But I don't care for it."

"I wasn't judging you," Izuku said as Himiko blushed, embarrassed.

"I-I knew that!"

"Sure…"

"Anyway," Himiko continued, slouching slightly. "If you couldn't guess, my mom wasn't too happy about the whole reveal. And if she isn't happy, then my Dad isn't gonna be too thrilled either. Mom's the nicer of the two… My Dad, though…"

Izuku didn't need to ask or say a word to know the kind of man the Toga patriarch was. The way that she reflexively flinched at mentioning him, and the way how her arm seemed to shiver indicated to him exactly what kind of person he was.

"Himiko… All you have to do is say the word," Izuku said as Himiko shook her head.

"No… Izu-kun, it's fine. I'll be fine. I—"

"If that man so much as raises his voice at me, or even so much as thinks of hurting you because you can't control something you were born with, I don't care how much that person means to others, or if he's important, or if has friends in high places. Everyone is the same once they're dead and buried," Izuku spat as Himiko paled.

"You can't just go around saying that!" Himiko blurted, causing Izuku to calm himself.

"I'm sorry, Himiko. I just can't stand to see my friends in pain. I hate it. I hate those who make it worse, too. So, forgive me if I have questionable opinions about your parents," Izuku muttered. Himiko didn't say anything, she just stared at her wall.

They sat in silence for a few minutes until the sound of the front door closing alerted Himiko. Her expression tensed, but quickly relaxed. Izuku knew full well that the kind of reaction she had was not a normal one.

It made him wonder just how bad things must've have been for her to have that as a response to when the person who is supposed to unconditionally love and support her returns home.

It disgusted him to his core.

Izuku's own father wasn't great either. He was a dead-beat, who lived in America. His mother divorced him after an outrageous accusation and belief that Izuku was a mutant, which meant that he was Quirkist, as well. Frankly, both of them shared in common their shitty fathers.

Expect at least his father didn't beat him.

"I should… probably go say hi…" Himiko murmured. But, before she could leave, Izuku grabbed her wrist, stopping her. "Huh?"

"You don't have to if you don't want to. You're uncomfortable, I can tell," Izuku said as Himiko didn't move. She didn't say a word. Izuku pounced on the opportunity. "Is he really that bad, Himiko? You can tell me."

Slowly, she nodded, and whispered. "He beats me…"

"How often."

"Often…"

"And you're sure you don't want me to help?"

"And what could you possibly do, Izuku," Himiko snapped, her voice raising slightly. "You're good with a knife, but my Dad is an ex-hero! He's trained! He's smart! H-he's powerful! You'd just get hurt!" Tears welled up in her eyes as Izuku approached her, putting a hand to her cheek, and wiping away some of the tears from her eye.

"Himiko…" Izuku lulled, his voice calm and collected. "I can do a lot of things. For reasons I won't go into, I'm not just someone who can wield a knife well. I'm powerful in my own right. If you want this to end, all you have to do is say it. You're father won't beat you anymore, and your mother won't restrict you, either. All you have to do is allow me to do what I do, and you'll be free."

"Y-You promise?" Himiko's voice hitched, barely kept back sobs threatening to break through as Izuku nodded. It was at that point that Himiko cried, and Izuku hugged her again. They stayed like that for a few seconds, before breaking off. Himiko collected herself, before nodding. "Okay… If you promise… Just, please… make it quick…."

Implication was clear. Izuku knew what she wanted, and he was going to deliver. Besides. He was a vigilante, not a hero. Vigilante justice and heroic justice were two different kinds of justice. Heroism was pure justice. Legal. Vigilantism was true justice. Illegal.

"We'll see. At dinner. I'll act normal until I decide to end it," Izuku stated, a stern gleam in his eyes as he spoke. For the better part of the night, the two stayed in her room. Himiko painted his claws again, this time it was golden with sparkles, and they even played dress up. It turned out that Izuku looked good in a pleated skirt and red lipstick. They even did each other's hair, which with Izuku's it was rather difficult due to how bizarre it was.

Granted, he could have altered it, but he chose not to. He didn't want to reveal his new power yet. He would save that for when he confronted the parents.

After two hours of having fun and messing around, Himiko's mom shouted up the stairs that it was dinner time. The two quickly washed off all the make-up and the nail-polish. Izuku changed back into what he was wearing before, and the two headed downstairs and into the dining room.

There sitting at the head of the table, was a broad-shouldered man with golden blond-hair, the same as Himiko's, and chocolate brown eyes. His expression was stern, and he was dressed in a similar outfit to Izuku, minus the tie, and his pants were blue instead of black.

He looked at Izuku with a hint of suspicion, before finally speaking. "You're Midoriya Izuku." His voice was sharp. Stern. Demanding. He gave off a presence that would otherwise send chills down any normal person's spine.

But Izuku was unaffected.

"Yes, I am. A pleasure to meet you."

"My wife told me that you drink blood," Himiko's father said, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yes. I do. It is the only way I can nourish myself," Izuku replied.

"You told my wife that you are not the one supplying my daughter with blood. Correct?" Himiko's father stated as Izuku nodded.

"That is correct, sir. As I said to your wife, I will say to you. I am aware that it is a taboo within your family. I would dare not intrude."

"And how am I supposed to believe that? You, her only friend, who admitted to me that you consume blood—a sin, mind you—and would have a supposed steady stream of it. To be frank, I do not believe you."

"Honey, can we not?" Himiko's mother asked as he turned to glare her, making her flinch.

"You let this devil worshipper into my home, when I told you not to. I don't care if he's Himiko's "friend", you went behind my back, woman. We'll deal with this later," Himiko's father spat, before turning to look at Himiko. "And you. I was happy that you made a friend. But clearly, you made the wrong one."

"I—"

"Zip it, young lady," Himiko's father interrupted, glaring at Himiko with barely contained anger. "We will have a further discussion about this." Then, he turned back to Izuku, who by now was livid, although it didn't show on his face. "And you, are to leave. I did not invite into our abode, and if you do not leave within the next five minutes, I'll call the police."

Izuku could not stand this.

The utter gall that this man had…. To talk to him like that. Veins grew visible on his forehead, his lips curled back into a snarl, as his pupils shrunk and his eyes narrowed. His claws flexed, and his skin itched.

Himiko's father stood up, his body language clear in his intent. "Do I have to make you leave, boy."

And then…

The air grew still.

Tension bled into the air, as the Toga patriarch stood his ground.

Finally, Izuku spoke.

"You are everything that is wrong with the human race." Izuku spoke with such finality, such certainty, that it made Himiko's father wince ever-so-slightly. But before he could speak, Izuku continued. "You use God as a form of oppression. You beat your daughter over something she cannot control. You restrict the only thing that makes her feel normal. You force her into a box and prevent her from doing what she likes. And when she finally makes a friend who understands her, you try and force them away because they don't mesh well with your tiny little impudent bubble."

"Impudent. How dare you disrespect God in my household!" Himiko's father yelled, stepping to him and throwing a punch.

"WASUKE!" Himiko's mother screamed, but it was too late.

For the moment that Himiko's father, Wasuke Toga, threw that punch his fate was already sealed.

Without so much as trying, Izuku caught the fist and squeezed. The action crushed Wasuke's fist, breaking every bone in his hand and severing every vein, causing blood to explode everywhere onto the floor. Some even splashed onto Himiko's and her mothers face. Both of them screamed in shock, and Wasuke yelled in pain.

But Izuku was not finished. He kicked Wasuke's right leg out from under him, dropping him to a knee, before striking him across the face with the back of his fist, knocking him down onto his side as he clutched his broken hand by the wrist. All the while, Izuku loomed over him, nothing but contempt in his eyes.

"How pathetic. For someone who was a professional hero, I expected much more out of you. I wonder, what does that Quirk of yours do? It's blood related, isn't it? Ironic, given how much you shun your daughter for hers," Izuku snarled, as Wasuke seethed on the floor, writhing in pain.

"You… You little twerp!" Wasuke spat, the edges of his eyes congealing with blood, before they violently shot out concentrated beams of it directly at Izuku. The two beams pierced his chest, causing him to stagger.

"IZUKU!" Himiko cried as Izuku sputtered up blood. He hadn't been expecting to be blasted by blood lasers, but then again, he supposed he had worse things happen. The wounds regenerated almost instantly, confusing and shocking everyone in the house, all the while Izuku only served to get more infuriated with Wasuke.

"You know… You really are something special to have attempted to kill a child, Wasuke Toga. No wonder you are retired. That attack would have collapsed both my lungs. Had I not have the abilities I possess, I would have died on the spot," Izuku said, his tone calm and collected once again, although now there was a coldness to his voice that sent chills down everyone's spine.

"W-wha… What the hell are you?" Wasuke muttered, trying to stand up, but due to his broken leg, he wasn't getting anywhere with it. To which, all Izuku did was smile.

"I am a Demon."

And it was with that declaration that, in a single, masterful stroke, a whip ejected from his back and sliced Wasuke's head clean off, blood spurting from his neck like a fountain as Himiko's mother screamed in horror, her face twisted into a expression of pure fear and terror.

"Y-You…! You monster! You devil! Y-you—"

"Do not think that your role was so easily forgotten, ma'am," Izuku interrupted Himiko's mother's rambling, who froze in fear. As for Himiko herself, she was caught in the middle of this, back pressed against the wall, hands covering her mouth as her eyes were wider than dinner plates. Her thoughts were jumbled, and all over the place, and it was hard to even concentrate on what was going on.

And in the midst of it all, Izuku simply stood, as if he hadn't just brutally murdered Himiko's father, glaring at her mother with the same killing intent. "You allowed your husband to abuse your daughter under a misguided attempt to try and "help" her, based on the biases of your bible. You are as equally to blame for this as he was."

"Y-You don't know anything! W-Wasuke is—was—a good, God fearing man! Y-You…! You monster!" Himiko's mother screamed, although her voice was more noticeably hoarse. But Izuku did not care. He simply approached her, striding over with a calmness to him that would unnerve most individuals. With a single fluid motion, he stuck up his pointer finger, as the claw on it enlarged.

"You will be a part of an experiment. I meant to do this earlier, but I think now is a perfect time see what will happen. Do not fret. This will either be a good thing, or a bad thing," Izuku said, refusing to elaborate before he thrust his finger into the sternum of her chest. As soon as he did, he dumped a quick injection of his blood into her, before pulling out his finger, blood spurting from the wound.

Himiko's mother screamed, as her body began to twitch violently. Both Himiko and Izuku watched as her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears began to bleed, her skin rapidly darkened, her veins became visible and blue, her teeth fell out, alongside her hair, before a thick, oozing substance spewed from her mouth as she melted into a pile of decomposing flesh on her chair.

Himiko dropped both of her hands to her side, as Izuku stared in mild disgust. "So, that's what happens when someone does not acclimate to my blood? How… gross." As Izuku said that, he turned to face Himiko, before nodding once. "There. You are free now, Himiko."

Himiko said nothing, still in a state of shock. It took a few seconds for her to process what had just happened, before turning to Izuku, her face blank. She swallowed audibly, her breath shaky as she finally spoke. "W-Wha… what just happened…? H-How… How did you…?"

"Do not question things you cannot understand, Himiko. It is better left unknown, should you wish it," Izuku said, before approaching her, putting them only at an arms length of one another. Himiko stared at him, as Izuku stared back. "Now then, you have a choice. Continue to live as a human, or… I can potentially offer you something much, much better. Granted, you've seen what happens if you fail to acclimate, but…"

"You mean… You can turn other people… into—what did you say again?"

"Demons. I am a demon, Himiko. I was never human to begin with," Izuku said as Himiko nodded, slowly, processing the information.

"A-And… as a demon, I can have all the blood I ever want?"

"And more. Much, much more, Himiko."

"Then do it," Himiko said, resolutely, her face hardening as Izuku nodded.

"Alright. This will hurt," Izuku said, before jabbing the same finger he had used to kill Himiko's mother into the same spot. Just like her mother, Himiko began to violently twitch as she fell to the floor screaming. The process was clearly painful for those still living, which was something he was going to need to note for later.

However, unlike what happened with Himiko's mother, Himiko herself did not melt. Instead, her skin shifted in colour, from pale to an almost yellowish tint. Her hair gained light blue frosted tips, and her cheeks gained striped lines that started from the sides of her face to where her mouth was. Her already sharp fangs grew in size, her hands turned into claws, and her eyes changed.

Her golden coloured eyes now shifted. Her sclera turned red, although her irises retained the same shade of gold, and her pupils remained black. However, the biggest change came when she sprouted an extra pair of arms underneath her pre-existing pair, and due to them being bare, he was able to see the markings that no doubt marked her original set. Two dark blue rings wrapped around her wrists, around her bicep, and her claws were coloured black.

When the transformation was complete, Himiko looked down at herself and her new set of arms, her breathing shaky, and her eyes darting from side to side. Hunger took up her visage, and without saying a word, forced into a frenzied, feral state, she made a beeline for the first corpse in front of her, that being father.

All the while Izuku watched, impressed and proud with himself.

It wasn't long after that Himiko eventually came to after devouring a majority of her father's corpse, leaving barely anything behind. She pulled herself away, slowly, looking at her hands again now drenched in blood.

"I… Wha…?"

"Your body has changed, and, as it appears, evolved," Izuku explained, looking her up and down. "I must say, you look beautiful, Himiko."

Himiko blushed, wiping her mouth from the blood that stained, shuddering. "I feel… amazing. But, how am I going to explain this to Grandpa?"

"Why? Is he a problem, too?"

"No! Grandpa Sushi is a good man! I just… don't know how he will react…" Himiko murmured as Izuku hummed.

"Well, we will find out. Now then, do you want some help in cleaning up this mess?" Izuku asked as Himiko nodded.

For the rest of the night, the two cleaned away the blood stains, and together they finished consuming Wasuke's body, bones and all. As for her mother, she was disposed of in a trash bag that Izuku tossed into someone else's trash can.

And all the while, a tabby cat with a charm hanging around his collar watched from a distance, grooming itself before scurrying off.

Tonight, as it had been, was rather eventful, and no doubt its master would want to know everything.

[Ending Song: Nonsense Bungaku – By: Eve]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: Memories – By: ONE OK ROCK]

[Volume 3 – Chapter 2: Familial Bonds, Shattered Dreams]

Yushiro Yamamoto was old. Physically speaking, he was in his early twenties. Chronologically speaking, he was 247 years old. In that time, Yushiro only had a few things to keep him alive. His painting, his memories of His Lady, of whom he had now forgotten the name of, his pet cat Chachamaru—a tabby cat that was, like him, a demon—and his wonderful granddaughter in everything but blood, Himiko.

But also in that time, Yushiro had seen all the worst things humanity had to offer. He had seen the likes of the first World War. The "Great War" as it was called. Saw how the people of his country that he had helped fought for, to rid the world of the demonic threat, slaughtered other humans for sake of doing so.

He saw how his friends, his allies, were forced to join in on the war. Forced to take lives, and suffer while doing so.

He too, did the same thing.

He too, was forced into aiding in a war that he had no place in being in.

In the first World War, he remembered carrying a crippled Zenitsu out of the front lines under heavy fire. Even if Yushiro did not like him, to see the damage he had taken by his own brethren… The German military had been fierce.

As far as he knew, after the war, Zenitsu died only two years after the fact from complications of being hit by mustard gas and other debilitating toxins. Even with Kanao treating him, not even she could aid him in that time.

Poor Nezuko… left without a husband, and forced to raise their two children alone. Well, without a father, anyhow. The others helped. Aoi, Inosuke, Tanjiro, even himself.

But Tanjiro…

Tanjiro. The once bright, happy, cheerful young man—even after the battle with Muzan—had become bitter after the first war. He remained alive long enough to help raise his three children, but the effects of the Demon Slayer mark took him not too long afterward. That was when Yushiro was given his blade as a keepsake.

And then, The second World War happened, and now he had been made to fight alongside Tanjiro's children for a cause he didn't even believe in. Only one of them survived the whole of it, but they were only part of the "at home" army to make sure the conquering of the smaller islands went smoothly.

Yushiro, seen as a veteran of the old war, was given a much more dangerous task. The aiding in invading China. While Yushiro didn't participate much, the little he was made to do made him feel ill to his stomach. Even to this day, he still had flashbacks to it.

And when his commanding officer forced him help slaughter innocent civilians in Nanking…

He instead slaughtered the entire Japanese military sent there.

Needless to say, after that day, he went back to Japan. He swore off his countrymen in totality for twenty odd years after that, only caring about the children and grandchildren of his old friends.

Although, if what Chachamaru had relied to him was true, then he now had a bit of an issue on his hands. Of course, he had heard about Himiko's new friend. How they were nice and how they helped her with her blood issues—something his worthless daughter and husband seemed willingly ignorant to, but that wasn't important.

While Chachamaru couldn't speak, due to their shared connection via His Lady's blood, they were able to communicate through memories. The talisman around his collar was a cloaking talisman, something that Yushiro had created using his Blood Demon Art, Blindfold.

It was a very simple ability. He could create talisman's to erase or sense individual presences. Not exactly the best for combative purposes, but excellent for search, rescue, and spying related activities. He would use it from time to time to watch over his daughter and granddaughter.

Of course, he was unable to do much during the day aside from watching. He had bore witness to the severity of the beatings that Tsuki's scumbag husband had done to his precious granddaughter, and while he could have, at any point, broken into the house and turned that bastard to mulch, he opted against it.

The last thing that Yushiro wanted was to dirty his hands again.

If he recalled, the last time Yushiro had gotten his hands dirty by spilling human blood was when he came back from Japan and assassinated Emperor Hirohito in the dead of night.

But now, it seemed, he didn't have to.

However, it came at a cost

Tsuki was dead. A result of failing to acclimate to the new Demon King's blood, and Himiko was now a demon, having acclimated to the blood quite well. At first, he was furious. He loathed it. Absolutely despised it, and wanted nothing more than to kill the bastard who had done such a thing.

But then he saw Himiko smiling.

Saw her for the first time being happy, and genuinely enjoying herself.

Saw how the Demon King, who he now knew to be one Izuku Midoriya, seemed to cherish and care for her.

He saw the profound impact the two had on one another.

He saw how much he cared for her.

That, coupled with the previous things told to him about Midoriya, had him at a crossroads.

It was 8:30 PM, and it had been two weeks since he had witnessed the atrocities that happened that night. The Police were already investigating the murder, as he knew they would. The disappearance of Wasuke and the remains Tsuki had thoroughly disturbed everyone involved. But there was nothing that could be done about it now.

Yushiro was invited to take a look at the remains of Tsuki, seeing as she was his daughter on official records. When he arrived at the police station, and when he saw her remains, the only thing that stirred inside of him was disappointment, and perhaps a small tinge of grief. But, it was nothing compared to the vast sensation of frustration he had for her.

"I know this is… unsettling, Yamamoto-san. Take your time," Tsukauchi, one of his close friends, said as Yushiro frowned.

"Yeah…." Yushiro grumbled, letting out a sigh. "Idiot… Why did you have to marry that fool. Why did you ruin your life. Now look where it got you…"

Tsukauchi remained silent, but he could tell that the man was a little taken aback by his words. After a few second silence passed, Yushiro clicked his tongue. "Cover her up. Please." His words were curt, borderline a demand, but it was done. The coroner wheeled away the corpse not long afterward, leaving Yushiro and Tsukauchi alone.

"You know something, don't you, Yushiro," Tsukauchi said as Yushiro frowned. Normally, he would lie and say no. But you couldn't do that with Tsukauchi. His Quirk—humans version of Blood Demon Arts—made it impossible to do so. If there was one thing he disliked about the current age more than the new fangled technology it was Quirks. It made everything needlessly complicated.

"Yeah. I do. I know what happened to cause this. But believe me, detective, it's better to not get involved. If you did, you and your police force would be slaughtered in seconds. Less than that, actually," Yushiro answered, his tone blunt and remorseless as Tsukauchi gawked at him.

"You cannot be serious, Yushiro! There's a cannibalistic serial killer on the loose, and you're telling me not to get involved! I can't do that, and you know it!" Tsukauchi exclaimed as Yushiro glanced at him, his expression unchanging. Devoid of any real reflective emotion.

"It's just my opinion. You can get involved all you want. But you will die. You will be eaten. Nothing will remain of you, and either you'll be forgotten by time, or you'll join them in some way, shape, or form. That's typically the fate of those who make the mistake of getting into this mess," Yushiro said, crossing his arms.

Tsukauchi stared at Yushiro, trying to gauge the meaning of his words. When he didn't get an answer, her looked Yushiro dead in the eyes, his expression serious. "What are you getting at, Yamamoto."

"I've told you countless times, Tsukauchi. It's demons. You know it to be true—your Quirk tells you it's true, I can tell. You just refuse to believe it."

"Because it's a folktale! It's something that parents tell their children so that they don't go out at night! Of course it's not real! It's just a fluke of my Quirk, that's all," Tsukauchi stated as Yushiro scoffed.

"So the Quirk that allows you to detect truth and lies has a 0.1% margin of error then? I thought you labelled yourself with 100% guarantee on the truth? I guess you have to change that then, don't you?" Yushiro jabbed, as Tsukauchi frowned.

"Then prove it! Prove to me that demons are real, Yushiro. I need proof!" Tsukauchi demanded as Yushiro sighed. This was ridiculous. But, he also knew that Tsukauchi was the kind of person who relied on realism and facts to exist without having issues. Demons complicated the issue, and he didn't want to waste police resources without undeniable proof he could show to the board. Even then, it probably wouldn't do much.

But, it was the sentiment that counted. Besides, he had known Tsukauchi since he had gotten out of law-school, and had been somewhat friends with him ever since. He figured that the man deserved to know by now.

"Alright. Fine," Yushiro grumbled, rolling up his sleeve as his claws fanned out. "For the record, as far as you're aware, my Quirk only gives me claws and eyes that can see in the dark. I've called it Night-Stalker. It's drawback is that I cannot go out into the sun without burning alive. That is all true, is it not?"

Tsukauchi grimaced. "My Quirk is telling me you're lying…"

"Good. Then what I'm about to do will prove to you, without a shadow of a doubt, that demon's are a real thing," and as soon as Yushiro said that, using his claws, he slashed his own arm off. Tsukauchi staggered back, appalled and mortified. He damn near shouted in surprise when Yushiro did what he did. He was about to say something, call out to someone to get an ambulance or a doctor, when in a literal blink of an eye, Yushiro's arm grew back.

Tsukauchi stared, unable to process what had happened. "W-What… But that's—"

"Naomasa Tsukauchi. I, Yushiro Yamamoto, am a demon. I was born in 1880, during the Meiji Era of Japan, over 247 years ago. I am Immortal. I cannot die, save for the exception of burning in the sun, or having my head cut off using a Nichirin Blade. But unlike the demons I have warned you about, my body was augmented to such an extent to where I cannot even drink blood. I am subsistent only on sleep. I am the last of my kind. However, a new race of demons has arrived. Ones that do not share my condition. They are responsible for these murders, of which have spiked in recent memory, correct?"

Tsukauchi stared at Yushiro, and much to his horror… "My Quirk did not pick up a single lie… But, how? How can that be possible…? It doesn't make a lick of sense. There is no logic or reasoning in any of it…."

"There does not need to be logic or reasoning when it comes to the paranormal, Tsukauchi," Yushiro stated, pulling his sleeve down as severed arm turned to dust in the wind. Tsukauchi looked at Yushiro as if he had said something blasphemous, but, again, there was nothing that he could truly say.

"Things are only going to get worse, aren't they…?" Tsukauchi said as Yushiro shook his head.

"No. I've kept tabs on certain families. Each of these families are descendants of those who were apart of the few who ended the life of the previous Demon King. These people will be key in ending this cycle of violence. Of course, we cannot mobilize yet as they are too young, and if I am to be correct, there might be a chance that we can avoid this altogether, as long as our cards are played carefully. All I ask is that you maintain surveillance on one Izuku Midoriya."

"Midoriya?" Tsukauchi asked, confusion tainting his tone as Yushiro nodded.

"Yes. It is my belief that he is the reincarnation of Muzan Kibutsuji, the former Demon King. He shares his likeness and some of his abilities. Do not engage, if you wish to live. Any information you gain on him, I want it. I need to judge for myself whether he is a threat, or if he is something that can be dealt with amicably. Are we clear?" Yushiro said as Tsukauchi frowned.

"If he's the one who's eating all of those people, then by rights we should arrest him!"

"All you'll end up doing is provoking a beast you cannot contain. That is not an option," Yushiro retorted. Tsukauchi was about to reply, but stopped when Yushiro's eyes narrowed. "I mean that, detective. All you will do is give him a cage, and food. He will break out, and nothing you do will stop him. And, given what I know, he'll simply devour every prisoner in whatever jail you throw him in, regardless of their crime. That will only make him stronger. Do. Not. Imprison. Him."

"So then what am I supposed to do?! The board will have my head if I don't get an arrest warrant for the culprit! And we can't blame an innocent man for it! That would just make us look bad," Tsukauchi said as Yushiro shrugged.

"That's not my business to figure out, now is it. I told you what you need to do, for it is the only way to ensure that Midoriya Izuku will not become a major threat. After all, if you treat an animal like a monster for something that it needs to do to survive, all you are going to do is make it feel more inclined to doing what it was already doing at a larger level. That, and Midoriya Izuku isn't the only one. There are two other demons that I have been made aware of, but their identities are foreign to me. They most likely also are contributing to the count of cannibalized corpses."

Yushiro paused, before crossing his arms. "Speaking of that, how many have we reached so far?"

"In total? Over 300. Most of the people have a criminal history, petty or otherwise. Very few who were cannibalized were innocent. It's been happening all across the country, mostly in populated cities, and primarily at night. Though we've had some happen during the day. I think the exact number of dead people is sitting at 391, and if I had to guess that number is rising. The youngest that's been killed and eaten was 14, although they were charged with attempted murder on a fellow classmate."

After his explanation, Tsukauchi scowled. "Even if the people who are being killed and eaten are criminals, all it takes is a single slip up for it to be an innocent person. The public has been kept quiet about the amount of eaten people. We don't need there to be an uproar. But the HSPC is growing weary, and they've considered having Hawks look into the matter if we don't get our asses in gear."

"Hawks? Who's that?"

"The HSPC's new toy. Technically a hero, but is mostly a personal government assassin."

Yushiro sneered. "Pathetic."

"I know. It's upsetting, but who am I to question authority," Tsukauchi said as Yushiro shook his head, disappointed. He didn't comment on it, though. It wouldn't be proper.

"Whatever. If you need me, you know where to find me. I've gotta go before the sun comes up. Call me if anything interesting happens. Otherwise, leave me the fuck alone," Yushiro said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking away. He had a lot on his mind now. But the first and most pressing issue that he wanted to deal with was the likes of the new Demon King.

He wanted to know what Izuku Midoriya had planned.

He wanted to know to what extent Izuku Midoriya was going to go about this new surge of Demonkind. He already had the coveted immunity to the sun that his predecessor acquired. So what goal could he possibly have by raising a group of Demons?

Was it to crush humanity?

Was it on a whim?

Or was it something deeper than that?

Perhaps it was nothing, and he was overanalyzing the actions of a child who knew nothing of the power they held.

Either way, he wanted assurance as to what it was the new Demon King wanted to do.

Only time will tell, though.

And in that time, Yushiro needed to search for those whom had the lineage of the former Hashira.

[XXXX]

Natsumi wasn't having a good day.

In fact, she wasn't even having a bad day.

She was having a rotten day.

See, Natsumi was a very simple person. She had very simple needs. All Natsumi needed was to have in order to be productive day was to be fed, to have some social interaction, and to have fun.

But Natsumi hadn't gotten those last two parts.

You see, in the last two weeks, Midori hadn't hung out with her. He had been busy with hanging out around Haneyama-senpai. Of course, they still talked—Natsumi refused to leave him alone in that regard—but it wasn't enough.

Natsumi liked Midori.

Natsumi really liked Midori.

It was too the point where when she saw him talking to other girls it made her heart tie up into a knot and ache. It made her feel weird things and she hated it. She hated it when Midori would talk to other girls, but she knew it wasn't fair on her end.

Midori was allowed to be around whoever, even if they were older than him.

But… then again, Midori had always been weird.

Midori always acted older than he actually was. He spoke like an adult, had the same knowledge as an adult, and was always so serious.

But when Midori was around her, she could tell that he liked her. Maybe not like how she liked him, but she knew he wasn't uncomfortable around her.

It was weird, because it felt like he had been avoiding her recently. Although, she knew that it wasn't true. But, it was also weird, because she hadn't heard from Himi-chan or Saito-kun, either.

Something was going on, and she was being kept out of the loop.

Currently, Natsumi was walking home from school. Usually, Midori walked with her, but instead he stayed behind. Their art teacher, Yukizome-sensei, asked him to help her out with a project she was working on, and he decided to stick around. But that was a classic Midori move. Always staying behind to help people.

She couldn't complain. There were times when Midori would help her after school, or other students. This wasn't the first time that they hadn't walked home together. But, at the same time, it was a little upsetting. Every time Midori didn't walk with her, it made her feel lonely.

As Natsumi walked, she dwelled on her thoughts.

What was Midori and Himi-chan hiding from her?

What were they doing behind her back.

Were Midori and Himi-chan… together?

Where they hiding it?

That thought made her heart quiver.

As she turned the corner, Natsumi bumped into something that made her squeak. She fell to the ground, clutching her forehead as she blinked, staring at a pair of sandals and socks. Although, the sandals were made out of wood.

And then, she slowly craned her head up to look, and what she saw was both cool and a little scary.

The person who she bumped into was tall, and his back was turned to her. He was wearing a black haori with white ends. He had short, dark green hair. He had a pale complexion, and his eyes were also a shade of emerald. He wore a pair of black baggy pants, and the back of his haori had a set of kanji that read "Destroy All Demons."

Finally, he turned to see who had bumped into him, and his frown deepened. "Oh? Who are you?" He paused, and sniffed. "The stench of the Demon King wafts off you."

"The who…?" Natsumi thought, as the man knelt down to look her in the eyes. He frowned deeper.

"Your eyes. Their slit," his eyes wandered over to her hands. "And you have sharp finger nails." He then stood up, before reaching for the hilt of a sword that she only just realized that he had. Panic washed over her face as she tried to scuttle backward. "I was put on a mission to end the life of The Demon King. I did not expect him to have already created a Demon."

"Ichiro," a calm, serenade-esque voice rippled throughout the alleyway as the man, Ichiro, looked up at the top the alleyway. There was someone standing atop the building. They were dressed in a pink Haori with serpent iconography, wearing a black uniform with the same black hakama pants. As a matter of a fact, so did the man that had his hand on his sword.

The person on the roof had long white hair that faded into black, and when they leapt down, they did so gracefully, landing behind Natsumi as she craned her neck up at them. It was fairly clear that they were a woman, seeing as they had rather large boobs—something Natsumi was rather jealous of.

"What is it, Amaru? Can't you see I'm about to kill a demon?" Ichiro said as the woman, Amaru, shook her head.

"This child is not a demon. If she was a demon, wouldn't she have fangs? You didn't check for that," Amaru said as Ichiro frowned. Without warning, he grabbed Natsumi by the face and forced her mouth open, scowling, all the while Natsumi struggled against his grip.

After a few seconds, he let go, scoffing. "You're right. Tch, just as I was excited to finally use my Breathing Technique… Damned Quirk users…"

"Do not lament your lack of a Quirk on those who have one, brother," Amaru said, before patting Natsumi on the shoulder. "I am sorry for my brother's rudeness. Please do not hold it against him. My name is Soriyama Amaru. Tell me, do you know where Midoriya Inko lives?"

"Forget it, Amaru. She isn't gonna say anything. Let's just go," Ichiro grumbled, turning his back and walking away. A bead of sweat trailed down Natsumi's face as Amaru followed after him.

As they left, Natsumi couldn't help but wonder what that was about. Why did they want to know where Midori's mother lived? Why did they have swords? What was all that talk about demons? Natsumi was beyond confused, and now all she wanted to do was go home.

As she stood up and dusted herself off, she hurriedly made her way home, not wanting to be outside for any longer than she had to be. She really didn't want to run into those two again.

When Natsumi got home, she greeted her mother, then immediately went upstairs to her room. Once she got to her room, she smiled.

Natsumi's room was always a safe haven for her. It helped her forget the boringness of the day. Of course, she had homework to do in a little bit, but that could wait. She had a new chapter of I Really, Really, Really Like Sakura-chan. It came out just a few days ago, and she didn't want to be behind.

Opening the Shojo Leap app on her phone, she scrolled to the next chapter of I Really, Really, Really Like Sakura-chan. As she read, she laid across her bed, kicking her feet back and forth. Just as she got to the fifth page, she got a text from Midori.

Bad Boy <3: Nakime. I want to talk to you about something. Can you meet me at the train station in an hour?

Natsumi looked at her phone with a raised eyebrow. Why did Midori want to meet her at the train station? Was something going on?

Cat Goddess: Sure! Y tho?

Bad Boy <3: Because it is usually quiet at this time of day, and I do not want to discuss what I wish to in the open. I have a had a feeling of being followed recently, and I do not know why.

"Huh… Well, I guess there was those people who were looking for Midori's mom…. Maybe I should tell him? Nah, he probably already knows."

Cat Goddess: KK! C u in a hr!

Bad Boy <3: See you then.

Natsumi closed her messages app, then hurriedly walked downstairs. The train station was an hour walk away from her place, so if she wanted to be on time, she needed to be there now. As she made her way downstairs, she bumped into Chihiro—her step father—who blinked in brief shock. "Oh? Natsumi. Where are you going?"

"To meet up with Midori!"

"Oh? Where at?"

"The train station. He wants to talk about something. Dunno what though," Natsumi said, slipping on her shoes as Chihiro frowned.

"And why not just come here?"

"I dunno."

"You didn't question him."

"I did. He just didn't wanna come over," Natsumi said as she finished tying on her shoes. "I'll be back before dinner!" Before Chihiro could protest, she was already gone, bolting out the door as she ran.

Little did she know, however, that another individual was stalking her from the rooftops. They had split white and green hair, with dark purple eyes, and they wore a white fabric mask over their mouth. They were dressed in a purple haori with moon iconography, and their hair had been done up in a ponytail, with their bangs swept to the left. On their hip was a sword, and they too were dressed in the same black uniform as two prior.

Silently, the individual leapt from rooftop to rooftop, as silent as could be, following after Natsumi, who was unknowingly leading them to their target.

[Ending Song: Nonsense Bungaku]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: Memories – By: ONE OK ROCK]

[Volume 3 – Chapter 3: Shadow of The Moon]

The Musutafu train station was quiet at this time of day. It was almost eerie. Shadows encroaching in areas where it shouldn't, vague noises that sound almost absent yet they were very real, and the faint, arid wind that stank of disease and garbage.

It was a strange place to arrange a meeting, but to Izuku's credit, he had done so because he wanted the secrecy of it to be maintained. The last two weeks had been rather enlightening, and while he was a little uncomfortable with the fact that both Haneyama and Himiko were now competing to see who could eat more and get stronger first, he didn't stop them.

After all, Izuku had been participating in it, although he was finding it hard to stick to his morals when competing. That being said, he still kept it up. Even if he was running out of food, and he knew he would have to resort to the unfavorable option sooner or later. But that was beside the point.

In first place was him—of course. He had consumed 175 people—mostly because he was targetting whole rings of people that he had discovered by doing research. Primarily his targets wound up being traffickers, which were usually huge operations, all doing so under the guise of Moonscent to protect his identity. Granted, the crimes were never connected too Moonscent, but on the off chance any surviving trafficked individuals recognized him, it would be an issue.

In second place was Haneyama, who hadn't stuck to the criminal memo. She slaughtered and ate whoever she needed to. It was a little disturbing, but Izuku wasn't going to force her down a specific method just to sate his own morals. After all, his morals were his own. He would be pathetic to force them upon another. As for her count, she had consumed 113 individuals, and her progress was increasingly validated by just how fast she had been becoming.

Speaking of Haneyama; she still maintained contact with Koichi, but she had joined them in a mission in Naruhata in a while. Knuckleduster was busy helping his daughter recover, who apparently hadn't woken up yet, something which the doctors were concerned about.

And in last place was Himiko, but only by a hair at 107. Like Haneyama, she hadn't been one for sticking to his moral set. After all, he promised her unlimited blood when she became a demon, and he meant it. He wanted her to be happy, not enslaved and bound by duty.

Although, in that two week span, he had completely neglected his human friend, Nakime. He felt awful for doing so, which was why he had come here to speak with her.

He had a long, internal debate on how their friendship could be continued, but at the current projection his life was heading in, at some point, they would either stop being friends because she would find out the hard way that her best friend was a "cannibal" in the sense that he looked human and, to her at least, basically was.

Or, they would naturally drift apart, as their interests weren't really all that in common anymore. Izuku was far too busy both as a Mangaka, and while moonlighting as Moonscent to have any free time. And what little free time he had, he used to further his education and to continue his studying of his own anatomy.

Therefore, he came to the natural conclusion that if he wanted to continue their friendship, she needed to be turned into a demon.

Of course, logic dictated that she didn't need to be turned. But, he knew it would be easier. Easier to maintain. Easier to explain everything too once the cat came out of the bag.

The only issue was his mother. But that could be saved for a later point.

Besides, Nakime already looked the part of a demon. All she needed were the fangs and it would be complete. Although, he did keep in mind Himiko's transformation—with said transformation making her unable to attend school due to her mutated appearance. Himiko was a little disappointed, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it.

That, and Himiko was happier outside of school, it seemed, so it all worked out in the end. All he had to do now was track down Saito and hopefully convince him to turn so that Himiko could be even happier.

But, again, that could be saved for later.

Granted, if she didn't accept his offer, then he would respect her wishes. He wasn't going to splurge everything in this meeting. He would simply tell her what he was, what the benefits were, and that was it. Of course, if she accepted, he would tell her that she would have to start eating humans, and that might get her to change her mind at the last second, but he was going to be nothing but honest.

Izuku wasn't a con-man, nor was he a manipulator—at least, he didn't think so, anyway—and he was nothing if not honest. Izuku prided himself on that, and he wanted to make sure that the people he turned knew what they were getting into when they signed up for it.

Granted, his scheme at the concert fell through, which would have had him turn dozens of people unwillingly into demons for the sake of experimenting; which looking back on it, in hindsight, it was pretty bad. But, at the time, he was excited by all the new information and was eager to test it out.

Now though, as he stood in the train station, allowing the chill of the underground area wash over him, he felt a strange sense of calm. Areas like these, while they had creeped him out, gave him a level of serenity that not even his bedroom gave him.

Perhaps it was because of how still everything was.

Perhaps it was because of how strangely serene everything had been.

Or maybe he was just weird.

The more the thought about it, the more he banked on it probably being the third thing.

He heard a pair of footsteps running near the stairs as Izuku turned to see the familiar shade of wavey black hair, amber eyes that shone with more life than the average person, and cat ears that made her even more unique than most of the people at the school, along with the excited swishing of her tail.

"Midori! Finally~! It's been so long since we've seen each other!" Nakime called out as she ran over to him, crashing into him and hugging him so tight it made him want gasp for breath. It took a minute for Nakime to finally let go, and when she did, Izuku had to catch his breath. They needed to stop meeting like this…

"Hello, Nakime. I'm glad you could come," Izuku said, his tone clinical and subdued, but his smile betrayed his true feelings of their rendezvous. Nakime's smile beamed like the sun, a small giggle seeping from her lips as Izuku fought back the urge to hug her.

He didn't know, but she looked very huggable right now.

And… since when did he feel like that?

"Whatever, it doesn't matter…" Izuku mused, clearing his throat. "We need to talk. Something… important has come up and I cannot ignore it anymore."

"Is everything alright, Midori?" Nakime asked, raising an eyebrow as Izuku glanced to look at the floor. Was everything alright? That was a great question, actually. Things hadn't technically been "alright" since he started going to Naruhata. Especially recently, seeing as he's felt like he's being watched 24/7.

Someone, or something, had been following him.

And maybe it was just his paranoia, but he felt as if that it was going to come to a head soon.

"I… do not know. All that I know, is that things are becoming more dangerous around me. I also know that I would like to continue being friends with you. I would like to continue going to school. But at the rate things are happening, and with how my life seems to be going in a trajectory that I did not think possible…. If I don't do something about this soon, then I might never get to see you again."

"Huh…?" Nakime looked at him, confused, as Izuku pursed his lips. How was he supposed to explain this? He had it all planned out in his mind, but now, he was faltering.

Nakime had always had that effect on him…. How she could get him to drop his guard was a miracle. She always made him feel safe. Secure. Protected.

And yet, she was just a human.

She wasn't like him…

She wasn't a demon.

"I… have been avoiding you. Because I am scared."

"Whaddya mean? Scared of what?" Nakime asked, concern dressing her features. "Izuku… you can talk to me, ya know? Nothing you say is going to scare me. We're friends, right?"

"Even if I were to tell you I'm not human?"

Nakime looked at him, bewildered, before chuckling. "You're joking."

"No. I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. You have to be human, otherwise what else would you be?"

"Nakime…"

"I mean, c'mon, if you're gonna make a joke, at least make it funny!"

"Nakime…."

"Like, for real, you gotta be—"

"NAKIME!" Izuku's voice rang out throughout the underground train station, causing her to falter. They stared each other, dead in the eyes, as Izuku spoke. "My Quirk allows me to see in the dark, yes?"

"Yeah…"

"Then if that was the case, then I shouldn't be able to do this," As Izuku said that, he grabbed his arm…. And pulled. In a single tug, his arm from the elbow down was ripped off, and as he threw it to the wayside, the arm turning into blackened dust, it promptly regrew without even spilling a drop of blood. Nakime stared in wide-eyed alarm as Izuku maintained eye contact with her the entire time. "And yet, I can."

"Y-You… W-What the… Huh?!"

"Nakime. I am not a human. I am a demon. A flesh eating, blood-sucking, human eating demon. I was born this way, and I cannot control it. There are two others like me, and I am responsible for making them. I want to continue being your friend. Truly, I do. But the only way for that to happen is if I turn you into a demon as well. But I will not force this on you. Nor will I force you to continue being my friend. It is wholly up to you."

As Izuku finished his explanation, Nakime stared at him, horrified. The words finally sank in, as she took a step back. An almost upset grimace took up Izuku's face. He should've known this would happen.

"Y-you… You're the one who… who attacked that The Hopper Café…. You killed all those people… you ate all those people…." Nakime murmured. Izuku nodded, slowly. "A-and all those families…?"

"My subordinates."

"Subordinates…?"

"The other demon's I made. Haneyama and Toga."

Nakime looked like she wanted to puke on the spot. Fear. Unbridled, and unmitigated. Horrified eyes that seemed to gleam almost as if she had been betrayed. Izuku knew this would happen, and yet he wanted to believe that maybe she would understand.

But then again, this was the same thing that happened with Haneyama, was it not? She didn't understand, and she was still turned. Albeit, Izuku forced her to do so, and it was accidental on his part.

Izuku's expression changed to a remorseful, almost nostalgic look. "I'm sorry, Nakime. Truly, I am."

"Y-You're not Midori… You can't be…. Midori would never—"

"And yet, I have. 175 times, in fact."

"Y-You kept count?!"

"I'm in a competition with the others. I'm winning," Izuku replied, almost absently. As if what he had said wasn't horrific for someone like Nakime to have heard. "Nakime. The perks of being a demon are much better than being a human. Regeneration, Immortality… You will never die. The only real trade off is only being able to consume human flesh. But even then, I've been able to manage just fine."

"You're… I can't… I… Midori, why!? This can't be real… This has to be a bad dream, I-I must be having a nightmare, because I know Midori would never—"

"You can deny reality all you want. But what you are looking at is the truth," a new, almost sad voice rippled out behind Nakime, as a figure that Izuku had never seen before walked down the stairs.

They were short, around only 154 centimeter's tall, and had split green and white hair. They had a pale complexion, and they were dressed in a moon iconography littered haori, with a black uniform underneath consisting of a button-up shirt with a white collar, and black baggy hakama pants. They wore dark purple tobi socks and were wearing black zori sandals with purple straps. Around their waist was a belt with a moon-shaped buckle, and around their mouth was a distinctive black bandage wrap, covering down to the base of their neck that muffled their voice.

Izuku could tell, based on the smell of the individual, that they were a woman. Young, too. Possibly only sixteen. But they way they carried themselves was like that of an adult. They held the hilt of their sword closely, and with an iron-clad grip that made the veins on their hand prominent.

But, he could also smell….

"You are related to me," Izuku said, his tone drowned out and frustrated.

"Unfortunately, yes. I am related to you, Demon King," the woman said, before leaping in front of Nakime, gently pushing her back. "Run, young lady. Don't turn back. This is going to get messy."

"B-But—"

"I said go!" The woman shouted, as Nakime nodded, running away. Once she was gone, Izuku narrowed his eyes.

"You interrupted something."

"I don't care," the woman spat, narrowing her eyes. "I was tasked to kill you, while my brother and sister were tasked of disposing of that harlot. Honestly, we tried to warn her. Tell her that you would be nothing but trouble. Look what happened because of it? Birthing a demon… We knew she was cursed the day she was born with a Quirk…" The woman rambled as Izuku sneered.

"Are you referring to my mother…?"

"Yes. Inko Midoriya was a blight on our lineage. But we accepted her nonetheless. Our family was, and always has been Quirkless. But Inko was different. My eldest sister, someone who I looked up to growing up, ruined it all by running away. Then she had you…" The woman continued, before pulling out her blade. A katana, only this one had a dark purple sheen to it. "I'm going to rectify the mistake that was made. I, Mizuki Soriyama, the first Moon Hashira, will kill you, Demon King. Before you ever become a problem."

And then, in the blink of an eye, Mizuki lunged and before Izuku could even lift his hand, she drew her blade and slashed horizontally down through his head, body, and out of his pelvis in a crescent shape, appearing behind him before re-sheathing her blade, whispering just under her breath—

"Moon Breathing, First Form: Dark Moon, Evening Palace."

Izuku quickly regenerated, spinning around on his heel to land a chopping blow aimed for Mizuki's head, but before the blow could even land, she vanished into thin air, appearing above him as she held her katana to the left of herself, before swinging in a rotating, circular saw-like motion, cutting through Izuku like butter, destroying two of his brains in the process.

"Tenth Form: Drilling Slashes, Moon Through Bamboo Leaves."

Izuku felt pain surge throughout his body as blood splattered everywhere, and just Mizuki was about to continue her assault, she was forced by as several of Izuku's bone whips lashed out toward her, piercing the ground where she had been standing, all the while Izuku snarled like a beast.

He could feel his body regenerating the two brains that were damaged, but it was taking exceedingly long. So much so to the point where it would probably take about a minute and some change for them to fully regenerate.

He back stepped, trying to get away, only for Mizuki to keep up the pressure, closing the distance between the two in an instant, before unleashing three more crescent-moon shaped slashes that shredded through his body, missing his hearts by a hair-thread. The motion was so fast that it looked as if she didn't even draw her katana.

"Fifth Form: Moon Spirit Calamitous Eddy."

Izuku reached out to grab Mizuki. All he had to do was slash her with his claws, or maybe even one of his whips, and this battle would be over. But, before he could reach her, Mizuki slashed his arm into bits, faster than his regeneration could process.

"Second Form: Pearl Flower Moongazing."

And then, she followed it up with a vertical slash aimed for his neck. However, Izuku had the time to dodge, leaping backward and sending a barrage of his bone whips toward her. She dodged, side-stepped, and danced through the rain of bone whips sent her way. Each attack was like nothing to her, and with each passing second, Izuku continued to feel frustrated.

Why weren't his attacks landing? It was almost like she could see his attacks coming before they were even being launched. But, he could tell that she lacked a Quirk. He had noticed that those with Quirks gave of a distinct scent. But she lacked it. That meant she was Quirkless.

And yet…

Even while Quirkless, she was able to match him and exceed him in speed. Her blade clawed through him effortlessly, and made him look weak.

Mizuki leapt in front of him, before shifting her katana to the right, and unleashing a flurry of frontal crescent-shaped strikes that carved through Izuku like butter, slashing through one of his extra hearts.

"Seventh Form: Mirror of Misfortune, Moonlit."

Izuku snarled, blood coating Mizuki.

And that was when Izuku had an idea.

He could control his cells down to the molecular level. He could alter their properties as easily as he could think.

That included his blood.

And so, he decided to do something… unorthodox. And he would admit, that it was somewhat inspired off of Bakugo and his explosions.

Leaping back and kicking Mizuki away, Izuku lingered in the air for a split second, before snapping his fingers. When he did, Mizuki's eyes widened, and before she could do anything about it…

"Blood Demon Art, Biokinesis: Exploding Blood!"

In a burst of fiery red flames, the blood covering Mizuki ignited, sending her flying into one of the walls, cratering it as Mizuki grunted in shock. The blow was devastating, riddling her in burns and making her haori look tattered.

Izuku believed himself to have won right then and there.

If only he was facing a sane person.

Mizuki lunged, pushing through the pain and closing the distance just enough between herself, the blade, and him, shocking Izuku as she swung outward, extending her blade. Her katana cut through him like butter, going through his shoulder, curving through his stomach and catching another of his brains, and out through his right arm, severing it just as his other arm regenerated.

"Eighth Form: Moon-Dragon Ringtail!"

Izuku spat up a large volume of blood, all of it being avoided by Mizuki, who leapt backward, causing Izuku to fall to the floor, out of breath. Three of his five brains were destroyed, and one of his extra seven hearts were gone now too. They were regenerating, but it was taking forever. The first of the three brains was just about there, but his regeneration was constantly slowing down.

The more of his brains and hearts were destroyed, the more difficult it was going to get. They were all lucky shots. Mizuki was directly targetting them—that much was clear. Otherwise, she would have already had him down to nothing right now.

But as he stood up, and as he looked over to Mizuki… she was gone.

That was because she was already behind him.

Quickly, he turned himself around and leapt back, just barely avoiding a crescent shaped slash. Aside from the burns, Mizuki looked otherwise unbothered. Her expression was narrowed, and solely focused on him. It was… disturbing, to say the least.

"Your regeneration is slowing…" Mizuki noted. "I must be doing something correct."

"But you'll never know what it is," Izuku spat, looking around his surroundings. He had another idea. His blood was everywhere from the constant damage he had taken. Even if she didn't look haggard, he could tell in her eyes that she was running out of stamina.

He recognized that she was doing the same thing that Stendhal was doing. Except, whereas he called his "Blood Breathing" she was calling hers "Moon Breathing." The two styles were different, but it was clear she wasn't nearly as experienced as Stendhal.

Stendhal could go for much longer than she was.

It was a little disappointing, actually. And while she had been kicking his ass, her luck was going to run out.

"Before I kill you…" Izuku began as he pointed at her. "Why do you want to kill me so badly? I have done nothing to you."

"You're right. You haven't. I'm simply trying to prevent what happened over 1,000 years ago from happening again," as Mizuki said that, she lunged once more, she prepared an upward swing to go directly through his head.

But just as she got close…

She stepped right into one his blood puddles.

And when she did…

"Blood Demon Art, Biokinesis: Flesh Spear."

A massive spear made entirely out of flesh generated by his blood impaled through Mizuki's stomach, ripping out of her back as she coughed up blood, seeping through her bandaged mouth, before being dropped down like a slab of meat, only to be caught by Izuku.

When he caught her, she looked at him, eyes fading rapidly.

And for a brief second, he felt sympathy. She was young. Dangerously so. If he had to guess, her entire life revolved around training, and nothing but. She was never allowed to have a childhood.

It was sad.

And… it made him cry, just slightly. He allowed for a few tears to fall, and when they did, all Mizuki could muster was a single question.

"Why… are you crying…? I tried… to kill you…."

"Because you were robbed of your life, sent on a suicide mission, and forsaken. If you will allow it, I can remedy that. You can live the life you want. Free from any constraints. I ask for nothing in return."

Before she could say anything, Mizuki went limp.

And in the arms of the Demon King, Mizuki Soriyama, the short lived Moon Hashira died.

At least, that was what would have happened, if Izuku didn't create a single bone whip with a pointed tip, and pierced it into her chest, pumping some of his blood inside of her. Something in the back of his mind told him that she would be an invaluable asset. Like a recalling of a pact he had made a long time ago, but one that he had forgotten.

The change happened almost instantly. Mizuki's eyes snapped open, changing to deep purple sclera with black irises and white pupils. Her skin shifted to an almost ethereal pale, and her hands became clawed. Her hair became pure white with red tips, almost like tendrils, and a massive crescent moon tattoo obscured the left side of her face, emanating an ethereal yellow.

Mizuki sat up, looking over to Izuku, confusion taking up her visage.

And then, she spoke.

"Who… who are you? Who am I? W-What's… What's going on?"

Upon transforming into a demon, Mizuki Soriyama forgot who she was.

And in this, Izuku saw a brilliant opportunity.

[Ending Song: Nonsense Bungaku]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: Memories – ONE OK ROCK]

[Volume 3 – Chapter 4: House of Memories]

Inko Midoriya liked to think that she was a good mother. She prided herself in believing as such, because she knew that her son was different. Difficult, even, at times. But she loved him regardless. He wasn't like other children. He wasn't fussy, nor did he complain or whine if he didn't get his way. Sure, he would get upset, but he would never throw a temper tantrum, and often spoke with an air of an adult rather than a child.

At first, Inko was concerned. Concerned that her son was growing up too fast. That he would ostracize himself by accident. But, if his friend Nakime proved anything, it was that he could allow himself time for having fun.

Although, that did not mean that he would bend to the level of being childish. Izuku seemingly had limits, and he expressed them clearly.

But that was what made Izuku. Kind, if not strict. Caring, if only toward those he chose to care about. Determined in his goals and objectives. Resilient against the tides of danger and change. Clever to an unnatural, and sometimes frightening degree. And talented beyond all measure.

Frankly, it made her jealous of her own childhood—if it could even be called that.

When Inko was born, she was born with her Quirk, which she had dubbed "Minor Telekinesis." It allowed her to push and pull small objects. Nothing powerful, just something that was useful for stuff around the house.

But, her parents loathed that she had been born with a Quirk. Which is bizarre, because usually, most people would have been excited to finally have a child who had a Quirk.

The Soriyama family had been Quirkless their entire existence. From the dawn of Quirks to now, and Inko was an aberrant in their lineage. She was treated unfairly compared to her other three siblings, Ichiro, Amaru, and Mizuki—though the last time she had seen Mizuki she was only a toddler.

Back then, when she was growing up, she made to do menial things due to the usefulness of her Quirk. She was never given the chance to learn any of the breathing styles that her family taught and cultivated. At least, not with their permission.

You see, Inko had never listened to her family. At least not her father. Even if Suguru was a piece of shit, she would never hate her siblings for being raised by that raging narcissist. It wasn't fair to them for being indoctrinated, and she would never put it against them.

After all, it was Suguru's fault.

It was Suguru's fault that the family became nothing more than a glorified Yakuza clan.

It was Suguru's fault that the family lost their way.

If Kiriya had been alive, he would've been deeply disappointed.

And while she had never met Kiriya, she had met Kiriya's daughter—her grandmother and Suguru's mother—and Kiriya's daughter, Chizuru Ubuyashiki, was a sweet and gentle soul. A contrast between her and Suguru.

Whereas Chizuru was kind, caring, and gentle, Suguru was cruel, strict, and vindicative. When Chizuru died, Suguru refused to honour her wish to have her ashes spread about on Kumotori Mountain, and instant buried her in some random graveyard—not even the estates graveyard.

It rubbed Inko the wrong way, because she loved her great grandmother.

Maybe there was something that Chizuru did to Suguru when he was growing. But whatever it was, Inko didn't care. Suguru had always been that way, and Inko held a heavy loathing for him after disrespecting her grandmother.

But that aside, Inko had started to come to a crushing realization. She was getting old—that much she knew to be true. She was nearly in her 40s, being 37. If she recalled correctly, Ichiro would be turning 33, Amaru 27, and Mizuki would be 16. Each of them had been chosen to represent a different breathing technique, an ancient combat art for sword wielding.

Inko was jealous of them, not given the chance to learn a breathing style. At least, not with a master to train her. So, instead of getting permission, Inko would train herself using manuscripts left behind by the former Hashira that had used the style that she desired.

Ichiro made his own breathing style by studying the style that she chose, and Mist Breathing. Amaru used Flower Breathing, and Mizuki—ever the prodigy that she was—learned Moon Breathing; a style that's last user had been an Upper Rank Demon who's records had been retrieved after his dwelling had been found and raided after the battle against Muzan Kibutsuji.

Which left Inko.

Inko chose her style based on what she knew in her heart she would be good at—and good at it she became.

As for the breathing style that she chose to learn, she chose….

Wind Breathing.

Wind Breathing was all about being dexterous, agile, and violent. It was a style that was meant to be constantly moving, to be constantly aggressive—like a storming tempest. Something the calm, collected, and cheerful Inko was not. But, nevertheless, over three decades of practice, Inko had become surprisingly good.

Even now, when she had the down time, she would practice her forms, typically out of sight and somewhere that no one could really see her. She had even kept her katana hidden in her bedroom, buried in her closet so that Izuku would never find it. She rarely if ever used them outside of practice, and she never took them out aside from when she needed to care for them or for training, but nevertheless, she knew that one day it would prove to be useful.

Especially since she knew full well that her siblings would be here any moment.

It was why she had her blade at her hip, sitting serenely in the living room, waiting for them to show themselves. She knew they were coming based on her surroundings. How she could feel their presence rapidly encroaching on her.

And while it had been years since she had battled, she knew one thing was for sure….

They had come to kill her.

Her father, Suguru, more than likely wanted her dead for birthing Izuku. She knew that the letter they had sent was true. That her son was a demon. But that barely mattered. What he was, and what he could become were two very separate things.

Even if the cases of cannibalized individuals started to skyrocket.

Even if, in the back of her mind, Inko knew that it was Izuku doing it.

Inko was his mother, and mothers—parents in general—were meant to care for their children irregardless of their actions. Parents were not supposed to force their children down a certain road and demand that they stick to it.

Parents were not supposed to force their children to be something they weren't.

And besides, what could she do to stop him? Nothing. She knew that for a fact. If Izuku needed to eat humans to survive, who was she to stop him? It would be like him stopping her from eating pork. Besides, he wasn't human. She couldn't impose human rules onto someone who simply wasn't.

And she never would.

Of course, she wished Izuku wouldn't eat people. Aside from the moral complications, there was also that part of her that felt deeply disturbed about her son's activities. But, there was nothing that she could about it. She just hoped that his appetite would never turn to her direction.

As she sat in the living room, she felt the wall to her left rumble and begin to shake, she that now, the time for thinking was over, as she allowed Total Concentration Breathing to flow through her body.

At lightning quick speeds, parts of the left wall of her apartment crumbled instantly as she raised her katana to block the incoming strike as easily as it were for someone to raise a hand. The movement was blindingly quick, so much so to the point that her attacker was shocked.

Said attacker, being Ichiro.

"Well, well, well! Seems like someone kept their wits about themselves after all!" Ichiro exclaimed as Inko huffed.

"You're pathetic, Ichiro. Still daddy's little soldier, are you?" Inko spat, deflecting his white tinted nichirin blade before kicking him in the stomach, making him stagger slightly. "Yet for all that muscle, you still can't handle even a single kick from me? Truly, you are unremarkable."

"Shut up! Cloud Breathing, First Form: Tempest!" Ichiro rumbled, as he thrust his katana like a lance, aiming to pierce Inko's chest and into her heart, only for Inko to deflect the attack.

"Really? Using the technique that derives from my technique? Against me? Wow, you really aren't that bright after all," Inko mocked before spinning around and blocking another attack, only this time, it was from someone else.

Amaru.

"Sister," Amaru greeted, leaping backward.

"Amaru. Long time no see… Neither of you can win a one-on-one, so you have to jump me in my own home. I see how it is…" Inko said, as if disappointed.

"You should know by now that you were a prodigy compared to all three of us. Tell me, why, Inko? Why did you not listen to us? To father? We only wanted what was best for you… Yet you refused to listen to us. Father might not care, but I know we do. We can avoid this. All you have to do is forsake your son, and we can be a family again."

"Absolutely not. I love you three with all my heart, but I will never sit under the roof of that tyrannical bastard ever again," Inko rebutted as Amaru nodded.

"Very well," and as Amaru said that, she lunged. "Flower Breathing, First Form: Elegant Waterlilies," in three arcing slashes, Amaru attempted, and failed, to carve up Inko, who blocked each strike with ease, while Ichiro charged her left.

"Cloud Breathing, Second Form: Rumbling Thunder!" Ichiro pushed forward, bringing his blade up and slamming it down fast and hard enough to crack the floor underneath them. Inko was able to dodge out of the way, and when she did, she charged toward Ichiro, who immediately put his blade to block, only for Inko to seemingly vanish.

Panicked, Ichiro looked around his surroundings, trying to find Inko, only for him to swiftly turn around, meeting Inko's eyes, and in that moment—

"Wind Breathing, Sixth Form: Black Wind Mountain Fist," Inko said, as calm as she appeared but with a raging storm in her words. With an unnatural strength that Ichiro was not prepared for, just as he prepared to block the upward swing, as their blades clashed with each other, sparks flying about, horror quickly swirled in Ichiro's eyes as he realized that Inko was cutting through his sword.

Despite her stature and appearance, Inko was a very strong woman, made even moreso due to the effects of Total Concentration Breathing. The Soriyama family had married into very strong families when they had their children, and each child was born of a different mother.

And Inko had been the result of Suguru's first fling. A woman by the name of Nana Shimura. A result of a one-night stand that was meant to result in a child, that once born, would be handed over to the Soriyama family. It happened as it was, and that was how Suguru had his first daughter.

Her strength had been the result of Inko's mother's inherent strength passing down to her, and of Suguru's unwavering potential. Together, it created a demon in human skin. Despite her well-tempered attitude, Inko was not someone you wanted to fight.

But, luckily for Ichiro, he wasn't the only one fighting Inko.

"Flower Breathing, Fourth Form: Crimson Hanagoromo," Aruma whispered as a single slash carved into Inko's back, as Inko disengaged with Ichiro, ignoring the searing pain in her back as she swung a single slash at Aruma's ankle, slicing through her right foot, severing it as blood poured from the open wound.

Aruma bit back a scream as Ichiro roared—"Cloud Breathing, Eighth Form: Raging Wind, Storming Blizzard!" Ichiro rushed forward, unleashing several horizontal and vertical swings along his path, slashing into Inko rapidly who tried to keep up, but was unable to, only blocking a handful of slashes. In the back of her mind, she thought about using her Quirk to halt his blade, but it would have been too heavy, and it even if it did work, it would immediately have tired her out.

Still, she was able to stand, meaning she was able to fight.

And if she was able to fight…

As Aruma fell, clutching the stub where her foot had been, Inko unleashed a torrent of slashes around her like a tornado, causing Ichiro to stumble back, trying to block them as Inko shouted—"Wind Breathing, Third Form: Clear Storm Wind Tree!"

The attack served as both offense and defense. It cut up Ichiro's arms and nicked him a few times in the face, and while it completely missed Aruma, it was only really meant to keep Ichiro off of her. Then, immediately she closed the gap between herself and Ichiro, preparing to attack using the first form of Wind Breathing, when she stopped, blood spewing from her mouth.

That was when Aruma snickered, as Inko looked over her shoulder. "What… did… you… do…?"

"Poison. I used… Poison. Specifically, I used Tetrodotoxin. I knew we couldn't beat you fairly—you were stronger than all three of us combined—so I poisoned by blade before I left. I only needed to strike you once," Aruma admitted as Ichiro smirked.

"Yeah, and I bet Mizuki made quick work of your son. So much for that, right?!" Ichiro mocked as Inko blinked, trying to compose herself, only to fall to a single knee, coughing up blood. She felt her body slowly begin to shutdown, as she halted Total Concentration Breathing. Since it hastened blood flow, she had been unknowingly allowing the poison to spread faster throughout her body, hence by its effects were taking place now instead of later.

"I knew… you were always crafty… Aruma… but this goes a step beyond that…"

"I'll take that as praise…. Ichiro, help me up, please."

"Alright, alright. Jeez, you're so—" Before Ichiro could finish his sentence, a single sword slash carved through the air. None of the three moved, with Aruma and Inko's eyes wider than they were before.

And the reason for it was because…

…Ichiro had been beheaded.

Ichiro's head tumbled to the floor, as he collapsed to the ground, laying next to Inko's prone state as the two looked in front of them to see a demon, with pale skin, a moon tattoo covering the left side of their face, and deep purple eyes with black irises and white pupils. She was dressed in a purple haori, and she wore the same uniform as Ichiro and Aruma.

Which could only mean…

"Mizuki…?" Aruma whispered, mortified, as the demon looked to Aruma, raising an eyebrow.

"Who's that? My name is Mikoto," the demon, Mikoto, said, stepping over to Aruma, who tried to scuttle back, only to have a katana buried into her stomach. Aruma screamed as Mikoto slowly began to drag the blade through her body like a knife through butter. "And you dared to attack my masters mother. Scum. Rot in hell." And without even the slightest hesitation, Mikoto ripped the blade through Aruma, lengthwise, tearing through her torso and ripping out of her head. Blood and brain matter carpeted the floor as Mikoto turned to look at Inko.

Rasping and wheezing, Inko looked at Mikoto, then over to the entrance, as Izuku stood there, fury laced in his eyes, which quickly turned to somber and concern as he rushed to Inko's side. "Mother! Are you—"

"Izuku… Thank you… But we don't… have time… Hospital. I-I need—"

"Understood," Izuku said, grabbing Inko as Mikoto helped put her on Izuku's back. It was bizarre, seeing such a small child being able to handle all of that weight, but it hardly mattered to Izuku. He did not hesitate. The second he stepped outside, he ran as fast as he could to the nearest hospital. Thankfully, it was only a few blocks away.

By the time he got there, and by the time he entered, a few of the nurses noticed them and immediately brought them service. A stretcher was grabbed, and Inko was placed carefully on it.

Hours would pass, and Izuku, along with Mikoto, sat patiently. Mikoto doing so out of solidarity. When Izuku had turned Mizuki, he had not expected her to not remember her previous life, but it worked favorably. She was able to help track her two siblings, unaware of the fact that they were her siblings, and she made quick work of them.

As for what Izuku did in regards to filling her in, he told her that he was her master, that her name was Mikoto, and that she was his loyal companion. That she had been serving by his side since he was little, and that she only forgot her memories due to a tragic incident, and that her only previous goal in life was to help him and his mother achieve peace.

The effect was almost instant. She believed every word that he spoke, the while he pulled on her memories that he now had access to in order to learn more about her.

As it turned out, Mizuki had been stationed to be married off when she turned 17 to a different family with connections in the hero world.

She was supposed to have married a boy by the name of Todoroki Shoto, who apparently like her, was very against the marriage. It was arranged by Todoroki Enji and Soriyama Suguru. Despite her being Quirkless, it was an act of a favour that was being repaid to Suguru. For what, Mizuki and therefore Izuku did not know.

But, what he did know, was that this "Shoto" was the same age as Izuku, which made the marriage even more gross than it already was. It was a child marriage, and no matter what Mizuki tried to do to get her father to stop it, he would not.

It was crass.

It was gross.

It was humiliating to both parties.

Which meant, that Izuku had a family to visit.

But only after he was done with the hospital.

As he sat in the hospital, Izuku twiddled his thumbs, nervously fidgetting. He just wanted his mother to survive. His mother didn't deserve to be attacked. Looking through Mizuki's memories, he knew that the person who was responsible for the attack was his grandfather. Someone who he was going to pay a visit too. Assuming he didn't move locations.

Although, according to Mizuki's memories, they moved locations every few months, and tomorrow he was going to do so. A trip to Sendai would be a day-long venture. There was also a good chance that the police were called to his apartment, and there was also a very good chance that it was going to be broadcasted that there were two murders that had taken place in there.

Suguru was the type of person to watch the news. Later tonight it would be broadcasted, and he knew full well that the kind of person Suguru was, he would more than likely move bases the moment he caught wind his children were dead—not counting Inko. Hopefully.

"Master. If these fools cannot heal your mother, do you want me to kill them?" Mikoto whispered, to which Izuku scowled.

"No. Nothing so drastic."

"Very well."

If his mother died, the only person to be blamed would be Suguru.

Once he got his hands on her…

"Oi, is that you, Midoriya?" A voice called out that Izuku recognized. Turning to the direction of the voice in question, his eyes widened to have seen Knuckleduster—granted, he wasn't in his usual attire. He was dressed in a tight white shirt and a pair of jeans. Now that he was seeing him outside of his mask, he could see his dark brown hair and black eyes. His stubble was as noticeable as ever, and his physical appearance hadn't changed a bit.

"Hello, Oguro. Fancy seeing you here. How is your daughter?" Izuku asked as Oguro frowned, standing adjacent to him with his arms crossed.

"Not great. She ain't waking up. She's been in a coma for two weeks."

"And your wife?"

"…"

The silence spoke volumes as to what happened. Lowering his head, Izuku muttered, "My condolences."

"Thanks, kid. It's been rough…" Oguro looked over to Mikoto, raising an eyebrow. "Friend of yours?"

"He is my master," Mikoto replied as Oguro blinked.

"Uh…"

"Student. She is my student," Izuku stressed, glaring at Mikoto, who tilted her head.

"But, M—"

"Stop. Not here," Izuku hissed, to which Mikoto nodded.

"Apologies…" Mikoto whispered. Oguro smirked, shaking his head, but otherwise not pushing the subject any further.

"You got a student then? And she's older than you. Dunno if that speaks of your skill or her lack thereof," Oguro joked as Izuku scoffed.

"Nonsense. Mikoto is as skilled as they come," Izuku said as Oguro chuckled heartly. After a few moments, he frowned.

"So, what brings you here? Can't be for yourself."

"My mother. She was attacked. Tetrodotoxin poisoning from wrathful family members who she cut contact with and thought she would never hear from again," Izuku said as Oguro scowled, deeply.

"Fucking shit. Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't be. They'll get their day… I'll ensure of it," Izuku spat as Oguro's scowl deepened, but he didn't say a word. Another minute of silence drowned on, and eventually, Izuku spoke up again. "How long is the hospital giving her. Your daughter, I mean. Before they pull the plug for costs?"

"Another month. If the drugs don't wake her up, then they're not gonna waste anymore money, and I don't have enough to front the cost. Why?" Oguro asked as Izuku glanced at Oguro. Did he dare tempt him? Did he dare it? With how ugly Nakime's reaction was?

"No," the rational side of him thought. "Yes," the curious side of him demanded. He opted for a middle of the road response.

"I might be able to help."

"How?" Oguro asked—damn near demanded—which showed his desperation clear in his voice.

"I do not know how much you will like it. But, I have made some… revelations about myself. I will tell you more when the time comes, should it ever need to. If your daughter does not wake up in the next month, I will wake her up. I cannot tell you how. But just know that I can."

As Izuku said that, he grabbed a pen and scribbled down his contact information on a piece of paper towel, before handing it to Oguro, who put it in his pants pocket. "Call me when you need to."

"Am I gonna see ya in Naruhata again?"

"Maybe. I do not know. I feel as if there is some unfinished business there. Have you heard from Pop in recent weeks?"

"Nah. After she… became that thing she's mostly avoided us. I still dunno what happened to her, but after what she said to the kid, if I see her again, I'm gonna knock her in the face," Oguro said, frowning.

"I see…"

"Well, I'll leave ya be. See ya around, kid," and with that Oguro left. If he had to guess, he was probably going to get ready for vigilante work. Izuku considered doing that, but decided against it. He looked over to Mikoto, before grimacing.

"If my mother does not come out of this alive, then I will have you go to Sendai. There is someone by the name of Suguru Soriyama that I desire for you to kill. But only if my mother does not come out of this alive. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Master."

Just as Mikoto said that, a doctor came out from a set of double doors. He approached Izuku, before bowing his head with a solemn expression on his face.

It was from him that Izuku was informed of a most dreadful result.

Inko Midoriya died of Tetrodotoxin poisoning.

[Ending Song: Nonsense Bungaku]

Chapter Text

[Opening Song: Memories – By: ONE OK ROCK]

[Volume 3 – Chapter 5: Feels Like Lifetimes Ago]

It was a tragedy, beyond all reasoning.

When Izuku was given the news, at first, he didn't know how to handle it. When it first came to him, he was shell-shocked beyond all control. He simply stared at the doctor, who gave him a note to read at a later time.

Two days had passed since then, and now, he was sitting in his apartment—of which was now cleaned. Alone. In his hand was a framed photograph of him and his mother at a fair that he had gone to for his eighth birthday. In the picture, he was holding a massive plushy of the, at the time, up and coming hero Wash.

His mother was smiling, as was he; one of the rare times that he did. He remembered how much fun he had with her that day. How they went on all the rides that he was allowed to go on. How they ate overly priced food—or at least she did anyway.

Thinking about it made his hearts ache, but he didn't put much thought into it. His aunt Mitsuki—someone who he hadn't talked to in a very long time—was planning a funeral for his mother seeing as he was too young. They were trying to have it happen sometime next week. The only request that he made was that she were to be buried next to her grandmother, Chizuru, who was buried in the Kyushu national cemetery.

Izuku held tight the note in his hand. He had never let it go, the paper crumbling under his strength. His frustration bled deep into his soul, and his wrath knew no bounds.

"Master," Mikoto's voice rippled throughout the apartment, kneeling at the coffee table, her katana placed across it with, still in its sheath. "You still have not sent me to Sendai. May I inquire as to why?" Mikoto asked as Izuku glanced over at her, his expression still etched with anger.

"I simply haven't yet. That is all…"

"Do the others know of the passing of your mother?"

"No…"

"Would you wish to inform them?"

"Not yet…."

"Understood."

The two sat in silence. An eerie, endless, disturbed silence. Izuku could not even bring himself to put on something to watch. All he could do was stare at the picture of his mother, his blood boiling in rage. Why him? Why his mother? What did either of them do wrong?

Was it because he was a Demon?

Was it because she had abandoned her family?

Or was it something else he didn't understand? What was he missing? Was there something that his mother knew about him that he didn't? According to Mizuki's memories, the reason they were sent after him was because it was believed that he was the reincarnation of one Muzan Kibutsuji….

Muzan Kibutsuji….

That name sounded familiar to him. Too familiar. It bounced around in his skull like a ping-pong ball, and…

"My Lord. Forgive me for the treacherous thought. But… have you ever thought about what might happen should you somehow perish?"

"Hkkisbouo… You dare speak as if I could possibly die?"

"Forgive me, my Lord… I was merely curious. I shall purge my mind of such impure thoughts…."

"As you should. The mere idea of me dying is not a possibility. Not when I am so close to perfection…. But, I suppose, should it happen, I will resist it to the very end. I will never die. I can never die…."

Izuku's eyes snapped open, as he glanced over to Mizuki—Mikoto… her name was Mikoto now. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and for a split second, the visage of that demon—the six-eyed one with the long black hair and red tips—flashed over her face as she spoke. "Master? Are you alright?"

He blinked again, her face returning back to normal as he clutched the side of his face. What was going on? Why… why was he seeing things that looked so familiar to him, yet felt so distant?

Izuku also couldn't help but feel as if that Mikoto looked a little like that other demon. Except… inverse. Instead of black hair with red tips, she had white hair with red tips. Instead of six eyes she had two. Instead of being a grown man, she was a teenage girl. But one thing they did share in common was the same moon aesthetic.

There was also the fact that the other demon had markings in his eyes.

Upper Rank One….

"Upper Rank One… Upper Moons… Lower Moons… Why am I… Remembering this stuff? Wait, remembering? No… Not remembering. I… I'm only 12. Why would I be remembering something from someone I'm not…?" Izuku thought, confusion and worry painting his expression. Mikoto looked at him, true concern on her face.

"Master…?"

"I'm… fine…" Izuku muttered, though even he wasn't so sure about that. He slicked a hand through his hair, before adjusting the collar of his white button-up shirt and adjusting the waist on his black pants. He walked over to the front door, before grabbing a white fedora with a black ribbon off of the hat rack and placing it on his head. "I… am going on a walk. To clear my head."

"Do you require me to do anything while you are gone?"

"Watch the house. That is all," and with that Izuku left, closing the door behind him. As he left, he felt a profound frustration wash over him. The police had come to his apartment and when they saw the corpses of his mother's siblings, they immediately questioned if he had anything to do with their deaths. After all, to the police, he was a registered vigilante. One prone for crippling to potentially deadly violence being used. It took him three hours to convince them that he had nothing to do with their deaths, and a report being filed to Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi alongside a one-on-one interview with the man.

Of course, Izuku understood why. That didn't make it any less annoying. What's more was that the police were still watching him. Using civilian cars to do so. Not that he didn't know who they were. He had taken in a detailed registry of every police officer in the MPD, which was why when he got to the ground floor and stepped outside of his building, and noticed two officers in casual clothing standing next to a Toyota, Izuku grimaced.

They were engaged in friendly conversation with one another, talking about random things, wearing sunglasses. Their heads were turned to face each other, but he knew they were watching him. He could feel their eyes on him. It was unnerving.

"Officer Ichikuro, Officer Sadayo. If you're trying to spy on me, don't do so blatantly," Izuku said, walking past them as their attention fully turned to him, as if taken aback that he had spotted them so thoroughly. "Parking in front of my apartment and sitting there for hours waiting for me to leave is going to make you look suspicious."

The two officers didn't say a word, but nevertheless they were baffled. Possibly even scared. That had been the intended effect. He didn't want them to get comfortable. He wanted them gone. But he also didn't want to lash out at them, either. He knew they were just doing their job, and it would be wrong for him to simply attack them.

Although, with the police tailing him, it was hard to meet with Kazuho and Himiko. Hard for him to eat. Hard for him to sate his slowly building hunger. He hadn't eaten in two days—and while for most people that sounded like hell, Izuku could go a week without eating something.

Take Mikoto, for example. In the last two days, she had caught up with the other two's numbers in record time. Kazuho had eaten now well over 200 people, and Himiko was around that number, too, at 197.

But compared to Mikoto, their numbers looked like a midnight snack.

Mikoto had eaten 278 people.

Mikoto was good at catching people. Insanely good. So much so to the point where it was scary how fast she had gotten those numbers up. Apparently, according to her memories, she had found an entire hidden Yakuza organization known as The Old Guard. They were tied to several trafficking rings and trigger deals going on in Asakusa.

Suffice to say, Mikoto had wiped them out, and had feasted on their bodies until sunrise the next day. She was also an insanely fast eater, too. Demons, by nature, never got full, so that was why Mikoto was able to eat as much as she had—even more than Izuku had. Now, the list looked more like Mikoto in first, Izuku in second, Kazuho in third, and Himiko in last.

That, of course, was going to change tonight. Assuming he could get the police off his tail. While he hadn't been able to do any vigilante work, he had gotten an email from an anonymous sender detailing a base in Naruhata belonging to a group going by the moniker "The Villain Factory." No doubt the place where all those Instant Villains were being made. Or, at least the place where all of that trigger is sold.

He had a choice. Go find The Villain Factory tonight, or bide his time for when he felt as if he was ready. After all, he had no idea just how strong the people who ran The Villain Factory were. They could be pathetic street mobs, or they could be high power individuals.

For all of Izuku's power, his regenerative abilities, he was nothing still. Oh, sure, he was strong. Strong enough to fight a trigger-induced Bakugo, but that was Bakugo. Someone with no training. No battle intelligence. No nothing. Just a boy with a powerful Quirk on a booster. These people, whoever they were, had been strong. Scarily so. Strong enough to put the fear of God into a single city. Especially after what happened with the performance.

He needed to train.

He needed to get stronger.

He needed to take being a demon more seriously.

But, the issue was that, even though he wanted to—wanted to become powerful enough to earn the title of "Demon King" he felt as if he didn't have the heart to do it. After all, why would he? Being the "Demon King" implied you were a monster.

But….

Izuku wasn't a monster…

"Am I?" Izuku asked himself, glancing at one of his hands. Hands that have killed. Hands that have partaken in human flesh. Was it monstrous to eat? Was it monstrous to slaughter those who would hurt innocent individuals? Was it monstrous for him to live?

Was he a monster?

Or was he simply a creature trying to live?

Izuku did not know. Izuku only knew that he… she… they… it? What even was… it? Was it even a person? Or was it just a creature?

Was Izuku even alive—

Izuku heard a grunt and a mumble of pain as Izuku looked down at the source of the noise, eyes piercing, never moving, never budging.

Black hair. Yellow, cat-like eyes. Soft looking skin. An expression of pain and annoyance. Their frown was infectious in a cute sort of way. Izuku's hearts pounded against the ribcage of the body in which Izuku existed in. Izuku's brain fired off neurons that exuded positive emotions.

Because the person that Izuku stood in front of, who was on the floor picking up a grocery bag, was…

"Natsumi?" Izuku spoke as Natsumi snapped her head to look up at the familiar voice, and suddenly, she felt nothing but dread.

It was him.

That liar.

She had made it a point to avoid looking at him at school—not that he had been there—and she knew it had been a fluke because here he was now, looming over her with a dead, vapid look in his eyes. Eyes that she once sought comfort in. Eyes that she looked into when he wasn't paying attention and felt fondness for.

Now?

Now though, she only felt disgusted.

He was a murderer. A predator. Something to fear, not cherish.

Panic quickly rose up in her chest as she scrambled to her feet, her breathing rapid as she turned to run away. Izuku lurched back as if confused—why would he be confused? Wasn't it obvious that she was afraid of him? Or maybe he knew that. Maybe he was confused by her choice to run. Did he think that she would just let him eat her? Was he insane—scratch that, yes, he was. That much was obvious.

Natsumi ran. Ran as fast as her feet could carry her.

"Natsumi! Wait! Don't run!" Izuku's voice echoed out through the streets as she slipped past passerby after passerby. She wasn't going to listen. Obviously not. Why would she listen to such a monster?

Panting, she continued to run, all the while she could hear him following her. But just to be certain, she looked over her shoulder, and lo-and-behold she was right. She was running too, but clearly not at his fastest. After all, there were people in his way. People who he was shoving out of his way as he continued to zero in on her.

"Natsumi! Stop! Come back!"

"Leave me alone, you monster!" Natsumi screamed, before knocking someone in his way and dipping into an alleyway. She wasn't watching where she was going, still transfixed on trying to see if maybe she lost the monster that was chasing after her, when she slammed into what felt like a brick wall, only softer. More… fleshy?

"Huh? The fuck?" A gruff voice rumbled as Natsumi looked up to see a man with turquoise hair, slightly tan skin, and yellow eyes. He was dressed in a simple white muscle shirt and black pants, and he had a cigarette in his mouth. "Oi, kid, watch where you're—"

"Please, you gotta help me, there's a… a… a villain after me! Please!" Natsumi cried, grabbing onto his shirt with desperation as the man recoiled.

"Oi! I ain't some hero or shit, the fuck am I gonna do?!" The man spat as Natsumi looked up at him, pleading. The man scowled, before huffing out smoke and tossing his cigarette aside. "Goddamnit… That kid has too mucha an influence on me. Aight, whaddya need, kid? Soga, by the way."

"P-Please, just… just get him to go away! H-He used to be a friend but… but… He—"

"Natsumi, please, stop running. I just want to talk," Izuku's voice rippled throughout the alleyway as Natsumi froze in fear. She looked over at him, as did Soga, who blinked.

"T-That's him! T-That's the villain!" Natsumi screamed as Soga looked utterly bewildered.

"The fuck are you talking about?! That guy saved my life! Moonscent, right? I saw yer face when we fought Stendhal," Soga said as Natsumi's face took on a look of dread.

"Yes… That was me…. Natsumi, did you just call me a villain?" Izuku asked, tilting his head. Natsumi felt a vein throb in her head. Was he delusional? What else was someone who at another person other than a villain?!

"Yeah, kid, I dunno what you're talking about. He—"

"He eats people! He admitted to it! He said that to me! He said that he ate people and that he had done it over a hundred times!" Natsumi screamed, pointing at him as Soga looked over at Izuku with wide eyes.

At the hospital, when he had woken up from being unconscious for two months—basically in a coma—he awoke to being told that two of his friends had been killed and partially eaten. He was even shown pictures; much to his chagrin. What had been done to them was brutal. He only recognized them based on the clothes their bodies were wearing.

Even then, he had to do a double take.

Soga looked to the girl, Natsumi, then to Moonscent, before narrowing his eyes. "Oi… She tellin' the truth?" Soga said, staring at him like a hawk. Moonscent—Izuku Midoriya, the police had called him when he woke up—stared at him. Unmoving. Like a statue. His expression was like a blank slate. "Hey, I asked you a damn question! Is she lying or is she telling the truth, asswipe!"

The silence dragged on, and over time, Natsumi positioned herself behind Soga, as if using him for protection. Something Soga didn't know how to feel about, but otherwise did nothing to stop. It was clear to him that the girl was genuinely afraid. There was no possible way to fake that level of fear.

And the way that Midoriya stood there. The stillness. It was like staring at a thing rather than a person, and even he had to admit, for a hardened, former criminal, it was a tad unnerving.

Finally, he spoke.

"I do not need to answer that question, Soga Kugisaki. This has been one big misunderstanding. I am not a threat to Natsumi, or anyone, for that matter. This can all be explained rather simply. But it is only between me and her. I do not need others butting into a conversation between me, and her. So, if you could kindly step away from her, I—"

"Yeah, fuck no," Soga interrupted, causing Izuku's expression to twist slightly into frustration. That gave Soga even more of a reason. "This chick is scared out of her mind of you, and it has to be for some reason. Fuck, yer both the same age, but you act like an adult. You think like one, too… Yer also hella creepy. So, nah, I ain't leavin' this kid alone. If ya wanna talk to her, you can do so in my presence. I ain't gonna let someone get hurt 'cause I'm not readin' a situation right."

Once again, Izuku went stalk still.

But this time, it wasn't without emotion.

It was with frustration and annoyance.

And then, he spoke…

…and what he said sent a chill down Soga's spine.

"Why are humans like you so persistent? Don't you know when to stay out of other people's business?" And before Soga could even say a word, Izuku appeared in front of him, and drove a fist through his chest. Soga spat out blood as Natsumi screamed, scrambling away like the scared child that she was.

"G-Go…! Run…!" Soga growled out as Natsumi did just that. She ran out of the alleyway, as Izuku ripped his hand out of Soga's chest, who fell to his knees, blood flowing out of his mouth and gaping wound. He was running out of consciousness, and his eyes felt heavy.

But just as he was about to fall flat on his face, dead, he heard some of the most chilling words a person could hear.

"…I've been looking for something more… diverse for an idea that I've recently had… Perhaps you can serve as a jumping off point…"

And then, he felt something sharp stab into his head, and before he knew it, he lost consciousness.

[Ending Song: Nonsense Bungaku]

Chapter Text

[Opening: Memories – by: ONE OK ROCK]

[Volume 3 – Chapter 6: Stopped Searching For Miracles]

Natsumi ran.

She ran as far as her feet could carry her. What else was she supposed to do? What else could she do? Natsumi wouldn't lie to herself and say she hadn't been holding out hope for the idea that maybe, just maybe, this all had been one big misunderstanding like he had said it was, but after hearing what she heard, and after seeing what she saw with her eyes?

She could no longer deny it.

Her friend was gone.

And that monster was in his place.

Turning into a black cat, she ran as fast as she could, bouncing from head to head as she climbed up onto a lamp post, before using it as a leaping off point onto the top of a bus stop, and then onto the ledge of an apartment complex. Finally, she leapt up onto the roof top of said apartment complex, before transforming back into her human form.

She came to a screeching halt, doubling over as sweat dripped off of her face, terror in her eyes as she tried to collect herself. Tried to rationalize everything that was happening, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't.

All she could see was that man, Soga, getting impaled through the chest and… and…

And she threw up. She couldn't handle it. She couldn't handle everything she had just seen, because it didn't make sense. None of it made sense.

She felt weak, lost, scared, and confused. She felt as if she had lost one of the only anchor points in her life. Izuku… she would only ever admit to herself she had fallen in love with him, but after what she saw? How could she possibly feel that way for him now? After what she saw? After watching him mercilessly kill Kugisaki?

Natsumi felt tears stream down the sides of her face; hot, painful tears. She had felt betrayed. Betrayed by someone who she had thought would be a friend to the end. And to find out that Haneyama-san and Toga-san also became like Izuku was? It made it even worse.

Natsumi wanted to have 1,000 friends… She thought she had 3…

Now she had none…

"Are you alright, kid?" A voice called out as Natsumi looked over her shoulder. She saw a man with black, shaggy hair, equally black eyes, and he was dressed in a black jumpsuit with a silver utility belt and a large grey scarf. He looked like a homeless guy, but, he also looked like a pro hero.

All she did was stare at him as he approached, and just as he knelt down to place a hand on her shoulder, she latched onto him, sobbing and crying, making the man flinch. He didn't shove her away as she cried like she thought he would, but he instead patted her on the back with one hand, and with his other, pressed something in his ear.

"Eraserhead to dispatch, I think I've got a possible code yellow, that's a lost and or escaped child abductee. I'll take her to the nearest police station now. My location? Atop the Kebaku Apartment Complex. The nearest police station is…."

The man's voice faded into nothing but background noise as Natsumi stopped pay attention to it. She was too focused on her own thoughts. She was just glad that someone had found her before that… that thing had.

The rest happened in a blur. One minute, she was on a rooftop with Eraserhead, and the next, she was being walked into a police station by the man, before sitting down on one of the chairs, her head lowered and her body shivering in a mix of fear and confusion.

She was given water, a warm blanket to stop the shivering or at least help slow it down—the blanket was draped over her shoulders and it was actually really comfortable—and she was placed in what looked like a room with a desk, a chair, and not much else other than the walls being grey.

A few minutes later, a man in a white button-up shirt and black pants, slicked-back black hair and black eyes sat across from her, his expression unreadable but not in a scary kind of way. He looked concerned, but he also looked serious.

And then, he spoke.

"Hello, Nakime. Do you know who I am?"

"No…"

"I am Tsukauchi Naomasa. I'm a detective at the MPD. You're not in trouble, but we just want to ask you a few questions. Are you okay with that? I promise it won't take very long," the man, Detective Tsukauchi, said as Natsumi nodded. Tsukauchi smiled, before continuing. "Thank you, Nakime. Now, can you tell me what happened? Why were you on that rooftop?"

"I… I was walking home from getting stuff for my mom for dinner… A-and… A-and I wasn't paying attention to where I was going…. I-I bumped into someone, and I… I didn't know who they were until I saw them…."

"Okay, and what did they look like?"

"T-They… They were wearing a white fedora with a black stripe, a-a white shirt, black pants…. And…. And they had green and black hair and red eyes… I-I know them… H-His name is Midoriya Izuku…."

Tsukauchi's expression faltered for a second with recognition. "Midoriya? Okay…. What happened next?"

Natsumi didn't speak. She completely clamed up. After all, how was she supposed to explain to the detective that Midoriya was a man-eating monster? How he effortlessly killed a man by impaling them with his hand? How he sprouted a tendril from his back and stabbed that man in the head….

"Nakime. Do you need a minute to calm down? You look scared."

"N-No…. You w-w-wouldn't believe me if I-I told you…."

"Try me," Tsukauchi said, his tone playful as Natsumi shook her head.

"No…. I don't wanna waste your time…" Natsumi said as Tsukauchi paused, tapping his chin with his pointer finger, before adjusting how he sat and speaking.

"Nakime…. What if I told you that my Quirk allows me to sift through truth and lies," he snapped his fingers, "like that? Meaning that even if I don't believe you, my Quirk will, and if my Quirk believes you, then that means I have no choice but to believe you."

"Really…?"

"Yes, really. It doesn't have any physical tells, but I do have a habit of thinking or saying the words true and false whenever I hear a truth or a lie. So, for the sake of this, I'll audibly say it, okay? If I do that, can you promise to tell me what happened?" Tsukauchi asked as Natsumi faltered for a second.

If what Detective Tsukauchi said was true, and his Quirk really was that strong, then maybe, just maybe, Midoriya would be put behind bars.

And maybe, just maybe, the people who were killed could finally get the justice they deserve.

"…Okay."

"Alright. Now then, continue from where you left off. When you bumped into Midoriya. What happened next."

"I-I ran away from him."

"And why was that?"

"Because he eats people."

"Truth. Huh? Wait, hold on… Are you saying that he's a cannibal?" Tsukauchi asked, disturbed, as Natsumi shook her head.

"N-no… He…He called himself a… a Demon. H-He told me how he ate over a hundred people…. H-He said so a few days ago…. B-But I was too scared to go to the police. A-And… A-and… When I r-ran into him again, I-I thought that he was going to eat me…! A-And so, I-I ran away."

"Truth. Okay… So what happened next?"

"I bumped into another guy… His name was Kugisaki Soga," Natsumi said as Tsukauchi wrote the name down—he had been writing down everything, actually. But she had only just now saw the pen and paper.

"And then what?"

"H-He got in between me and Midoriya…. B-But… Because h-he wouldn't leave me alone with him… M-Midoriya killed him. H-He put his hand through Soga's chest, and stabbed him in the head with a tendril from his back. I-I fled the scene immediately…. Then Eraserhead found me, a-and then I was brought here…."

"Truth…" Tsukauchi muttered, muttering something under his breath, before looking over at Natsumi. "Alright. Your parents should be here soon. Thank you for everything, Nakime. If you, at any time, feel as if you need any help at all whatsoever, you can always call us. It's our job to help those in need. You're free to leave."

And with that, Detective Tsukauchi and Natsumi exited the room, as Natsumi was pulled into a hug by her mother, who was crying. It prompted Natsumi to cry as well, whilst her stepfather, Chihiro, spoke with Tsukauchi, not that Natsumi was paying any attention to it.

She was safe.

Midoriya could not reach her here.

And that was all that mattered to her.

[XXXX]

"I'm sorry, Mr. Oguro, but there's nothing we can do. If we keep her on life support, all it will do is take away from others that actually need it. Not to mention the medical bills for you," One of the doctors of the Naruhata Disaster Medical Center explained as Iwao narrowed his eyes. This was the exact same thing they said about his wife, and he knew what had happened with her.

She died, succumbing to the illness that had taken her.

And now, Tamao was nearing the same fate, only at an accelerated rate. Apparently, the quirked bee had one last nasty surprise for them when he and Akaguro defeated it. It stabbed her rear cortex with its stinger, which was spreading throughout her brain, and shutting down her body at a steady pace.

The worst part was that there was nothing that the doctors could do without opening up her head and risking even more damage.

And with her immune system being shot….

"So you're saying that you can't do anything?" Iwao demanded, sneering. "Nothing at all?"

"Nothing you could afford, that's for sure," the doctor said, crossing their arms. "Not to mention it's still experimental. So unless you have ninety-eight million yen to spare, and a whole lotta luck, your best option is to take her off life support."

Iwao wanted to snap. To punch the doctor in the face for even suggesting that. He had just lost his wife, he couldn't lose his daughter, too. If he lost her, then what the hell was the point? For sticking his neck out and nearly dying time and again? Sure, he wanted to protect the people of Naruhata. That was his life's calling. But he did it mostly for his family.

And if he didn't have them, then… why would he bother carrying on?

"No," Iwao spat as the doctor frowned.

"Mr. Oguro, I—"

"If you take her off of life support without my consent, I will personally see to it your bones are rearranged, you understand me?" Iwao snarled as the doctor flinched. "You gave me a month. It's only been a week. If she ain't gonna wake up after a month, then alright, I'll accept it. But I want my month. I'll find something to wake her up."

"Sir—"

"Shut up," Iwao grumbled, before walking away, and leaving the hospital. He had come to visit his daughter—and he had—but that was it. She had felt cold to the touch, and her breathing was now being done manually through the help of a machine. Her eye, while open, was glossy, and her heart rate was so slow, that it was a miracle she was still alive.

She might as well have been dead.

Iwao knew it.

The hospital knew it.

But Iwao didn't accept it.

He refused to accept it.

He would find something. He always found something. When Iwao lost his Quirk and became Quirkless, he found a job at construction. When his wife fell ill, he came to this hospital hoping to find a cure. He never did, but she died knowing that Tamao had come back to them.

But now, Tamao was on the verge of dying.

He had lost all hope, mostly.

The only thing that could save her now was a miracle, and he was fresh outta those.

He recalled the words that Midoriya boy had told to him, but he didn't believe it. How could he save his daughter? If professional doctors couldn't, then how the hell could he? Unless he could spread his regeneration to others—which he doubted.

Iwao believed that he was a good father. Or at least he tried to be. Sure, he didn't understand his daughter some times, and he had been a bit of an overprotective parent. But he had only wanted what was best for her. Traveling the world on summer vacation with no parental supervision was not something he was about to accept, and so when she ran away, he had tried everything he could to find her.

It was unfortunate that he never did.

Not until it was too late.

Not until she had been taken over by that parasitic bee.

And now she was paying for it. Dearly. She was going to lose her life, and he walked down the streets of Naruhata, hands in his pockets and expression downcast, he knew that by the time December came around, a week before Christmas, his beloved daughter would die.

The very person he had tried so hard to bring back, would die from a full body shutdown, all because of some vindictive bee and whoever created it.

"Sup, old man," a familiar voice called out as Iwao glanced over to his left. Standing there, dressed in a pink and white shirt with a star motif slapped in the center, alongside a large oversized black jacket and black leggings, pink sclera, black eyes with red cat-like pupils. Fingers with blue tips and claws about two inches long.

"Haneyama…" Iwao grumbled. "Been a while. You been eaten people still?"

"Naturally. Can't eat anything else."

"You know the only reason I don't pummel you is because I ain't in my get up, right?" Iwao stated bluntly as Haneyama scoffed.

"As if you could either way, but that's beside the point. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with that doctor. Three weeks left, huh? That's not a lot a time, and you know it."

"I'll find something," Iwao growled. "You stay away from her, you vulture."

"Aw, you're so mean, Oguro. You don't gotta be like that," Haneyama mocked, walking up to him and poking him lightly in the chest. He back-handed her, but she didn't even flinch. "Now that's just rude."

"Don't touch me. Matter of fact, leave me alone." As Iwao said that, he turned to keep walking. But just as he did….

"Ya know, we could also turn her into a Demon, right?" Haneyama said, making Iwao stop in his tracks. He didn't say a word, only standing still as Haneyama smirked. "Think about it? Your kid will instantly be healed, she'll never have to worry about getting injured ever again, and the only trade off is that she'll need to hunt other humans. But by that point, she won't be. It's a win-win for both of us. You get your daughter back, and we get another strong Demon added to our ranks. It's—"

Haneyama felt the indents of a set of knuckledusters slam into her jaw as she was sent flying into a wall, her jaw becoming dislocated from the force of the blow before it effortlessly snapped back into place. Haneyama stood up, wiping the blood from her face as it turned it fell to the ground before evaporating.

"Don't you ever suggest somethin' like that again," Iwao spat, glaring daggers at Haneyama as she scoffed.

"Her funeral then," Haneyama said, cracking her neck from side to side. "There ain't a thing in the world that can cure what she's got. But… We can. You know we can. You just don't wanna do it because you don't want your daughter to turn into a "monster" or whatever the hell you think we are."

"Piss off."

Iwao walked away, this time for real as he left Haneyama in the dust.

No.

He would make sure that Tamao would come back to him. He would bring her back from the brink. There had to be something. He knew that there had to be.

Because if there wasn't…

He would lose his daughter for good.

[XXXX]

He didn't know what was going on.

He didn't know who he was.

All he knew was that he was here—wherever here was. He looked down at his hands, big with sharp claws and spikes running up the length of his arms. Small spikes. Not large ones. His eyes, wide and open, and in the reflection of the mirror in front of him, he could see that they were a muddy brown with teal whites.

His skin was an off-yellowish colour. He looked… thin. Really thin. Like a simple breeze could knock him over, and yet he felt sturdier than before. He also had a fist sized hole through his chest, right where his heart would be, and around it was a black ring. He could see through the hole all the way to his back, and he could even see the edges of his ribcage poking through his skin.

His hair was longer, too. He felt like it was longer, anyway. It reached down past his neck, and was completely cyan with streaks of black. His legs and arms were elongated, too. His eyes were sunken in, as well. Look like an emaciated corpse. But he felt better than that.

He felt… alive.

He felt…. Strong.

But the problem was… Who was he?

"Kyojushu," a voice rang out behind him, as he turned around, responding to the word. Was that his name? Kyojushu? It sounded… like a name. Kind of? The person who said it was a kid. Red eyes, black and green hair, dressed in a white button-up shirt and black pants. It was better than what he was wearing. A pair of baggy orange hakama pants and a bandage wraps around his arms, leaving his thin chest bare.

Not that he minded.

"Huh…?"

"That's your name. Kyojushu. I must say, you've changed quite a bit. But I digress. Welcome back. Have you had your fill yet?" The child—no—his master said as he looked down over to a pile of half-eaten and mangled corpses. He sniffed, a sneer taking up his visage.

"All that food goin' to waste?" Kyojushu asked as his master shook his head.

"No, the rest is going to be eaten, most likely by me. It's been a while since I've eaten. Oh, and we're in a warehouse in Tokyo, by the way. I had to escape the police. You helped quite a bit. Those officers had no way of getting past you. Not without risking life and limb—not that they already hadn't."

As his master spoke, Kyojushu adjusted how he stood, before taking a knee. He did not know why he felt loyalty toward his master. He did not know why he was here. He did not know how he got here. But what he knew was that he felt an intense loyalty toward the child in front of him, and he would do whatever was needed to keep on his good side.

"Izu-kun~! I'm here, just like you told me to be~!" A voice called out as a four-armed girl walked through the front door, one pair of arms behind her head and the other pair lazily at their sides. She was dressed in a sleeveless red button-up asymmetrical tuxedo vest with a sleeveless white shirt underneath. She also wore a pair of dark blue pants.

Her hair was dirty blonde, and she had light blue highlighted tips in her hair. Her eyes had red sclera, golden irises, and black pupils. On either sides of her face, she had dark blue lines starting at the height of her cheeks to the ends of her chin, and she four more sets of dark blue lines around her wrists, elbows, and the tops of her shoulders.

"Yo, we having a meeting or something?" Another voice called out, but this one Kyojushu had felt some familiarity toward, though he didn't know why. The individual came out of one of the skylights at the top of the warehouse. She wore a black oversized jacket, underneath which was a pink and white striped shirt, and she wore a pair of dark blue shorts. She had pink hair that was let down past her shoulders, and she had off-pale skin with pink sclera, black eyes, and red pupils.

"I believe that was the idea," a final, cold, uncaring voice that radiated with sternness that sounded far too close for his comfort rumbled behind him. He turned around and leapt back a little, looking at a white haired, pale skinned woman with deep purple sclera, black eyes, and white pupils; over the left side of her face was a bright yellow moon marking, and it made her look a little ominous. She was dressed in a dark purple haori covered in moon iconography, underneath which was matching-in-colour nagagi, and a pair of black hakama pants.

"Everyone," His master called out, as they all lined up in front of him—the four of them—before taking a knee; something that he did in mimicry, not wanting to know what would happen if he didn't. "I am glad you are all here. I take it none of you had any issues?"

"Actually, master. There was an issue," the pink-haired demon said, frowning. "Ran into the old man. His daughter's on deaths door. Got three weeks to live. I suggested maybe turning her into a Demon, but he punched my jaw off."

"Hmm… Well, it will not be as if he has a choice in the matter. For I have a plan. A dream, more like it," His master said, before clearing his throat. "Of course, before I get into that. I would like to introduce you three to our newest member. Kyojushu, and you, Kyojushu, to Haneyama, Himiko, and Mikoto."

"It is an honor to meet you," Kyojushu said, bowing his head as Haneyama smirked.

"Jeez, dude, no need to be so formal!"

"I find it cute," Himiko quipped.

"It is only proper," Mikoto said, as she bowed her head. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Kyojushu." As she said that, Mikoto raised her head, as Kyojushu did the same.

"There. As for me, I am Midoriya Izuku. I am your… Leader, shall we say. The term "King" does not feel right to me. It means absolute authority, which I am not. I would like to believe I am fair in how I treat you all. I also believe that all of your opinions matters, and not just my own. Also, you have been calling "Master" in your thoughts. Please refrain from doing that. It annoys me."

"Yes, Midoriya," Kyojushu said as Midoriya nodded.

"Thank you. Now then, on to important matters," Midoriya began. "First. I want to say that I am proud of you all actively looking out to becoming stronger. Between all of us—excluding Kyojushu seeing as he was recently added—over 1,000 humans have been consumed. A mile stone, of sorts. That's enough humans for a small village. Because of it, I'm sure you three have acquired new abilities…."

"Yup! It's very pretty~!" Himiko said, smiling as Haneyama laughed.

"Mine's pretty cool! Way better than my useless Quirk!"

"My blade is my weapon, therefore my new ability is merely an extension of it…."

"Very good. But that does not mean I want you to stop. Keep consuming. Keep growing stronger. For what purpose? Merely to survive. As I have learned, there are people out there who would see our kind destroyed. I refuse that sentiment. We deserve to exist just as much as anyone else. Who are they to decide that we do not get to live? The simple answer is that they do not," Midoriya continued, as he narrowed his eyes.

"That is why, starting today, I will be converting more people I encounter into Demons. Any failures will simply be consumed. I am searching for an elite 12 Demons. Why, you might be asking? Simple. Because I know, for a fact, that there will be those out there who will try and kill us for the sake of doing so. While we are not easily killable, I would like to remind you all that there is still ways to end our lives. Incineration, cellular destruction, a nichirin blade, and wisteria. That is why I am seeking out 12 Demons who will become my elites, of whom I will dub… The Twelve Kizuki."

"Oh, shit!" Haneyama exclaimed, smiling.

"That sounds fun~!"

"I will not disappoint you, Lord Midoriya…."

"Now that's interesting," Kyojushu said, looking up at Midoriya. "I wanna know… What's the threshold for being considered?"

"For right now? I do not know. There are not twelve of you yet. But that will change in the coming weeks. There is also another reason why I am doing this. There is a group out there known as The Villain Factory. I intend on eliminating that group, but I am not going in blind. I am going to be prepared. I do not know what they have at their disposal. So, for now, go. Grow stronger. I will create more Demons, and should you all impress me, I will make you a part of the Twelve Kizuki."

And without another word, they all left, fleeing as a bee would their hive.

While Kyojushu might have only been one for a few minutes, he had to admit, that it felt good to be a Demon.

[Ending Song: Nonsense Bungaku]

Chapter Text

[Openings: Memories – By: ONE OKAY ROCK]

[Volume 3 – Chapter 7: …On That Moonlit Night]

The moon. A usually comforting orb of illumination. A beacon of light that brought him joy and thought. It was an event that happened every night, regardless of it being shrouded by murky clouds. But, tonight, it wasn't. Tonight, it was a light that reflected his own inadequacies. A beacon, yes, but not one of comfort. Of condemnation.

Four demons, not including him, were now skulking the streets of Japan.

Four demons, all with unique abilities, personalities, and ideals.

Four demons, all under his control.

And yet, for the life of him, he couldn't control even a single human. He couldn't bring them over to his side. He couldn't convince them that it was worth it.

That human was his longtime friend, Natsumi Nakime. The same human who had shunned him when she learned of his true self. The same human who had screamed at him to stay away. The same human who, only a few days ago, looked at him with wide eyes and a smile, now looked at him with terror and horror.

He was, in a word, rejected.

Rejection.

That word felt almost hauntingly familiar.

…And he hated it.

Not only did he hate that word, it made his blood boil. There was something so… harsh about that word that made him wish undo harm unto those who would thrust such a cruel thing his way. Rejection was a pure denial. Not a chance for something more later down the road. But true, honest, denial so total that not even The Gods could reverse its course.

It was a repugnant thing, rejection. Something he wished to snuff out.

Of course, in certain instances, rejection was needed. Like with overly clingy people, or creeps wanting nothing more than to bury their manhood into another individual, with consent or not. It was something that, while Izuku loathed, was needed to keep humans in check.

But when you attempt to apply such a thing to someone like him… To a being so devoid of that humanity, it dragged out something from the deepest, darkest parts of his mind.

The animalistic urge to reject the rejection spat out to him.

It was why he now hunted Natsumi.

For if Natsumi did not wish to be a Demon, then she would do well to be his food.

Of course, finding her was the easy part. He knew where she stalked, knew where she lived, knew where her favourite hangout spots were. School was the easiest option to find her, but to actually consume her there would put unnecessary attention on him. So, he crossed that option off the list.

The next place was her residence. And while however much he desired to ensure Natsumi became his, one way or another, doing so in the home that which she grew up in felt wrong. Not to mention her alerting her parents.

And so, he decided, what better place than the arcade she so readily frequented?

The Mikado Game Center, a popular brand of arcades all across Japan, was one of, if not that most active arcade in all of Japan. However, at night, the staff and those that go there dwindle to a meager fraction of a fraction those meant to be there. Izuku had been to the Mikado Game Center more than enough to have figured it out.

He also knew that was the usual time that Natsumi liked to be there. It was the quietest hours, and it was the best time to play her favourite games.

Through the rows and rows of machines, Izuku, dressed in his usual white button-up shirt and black pants combo, stalked through the arcade cabinets and claw machines, seeing where Natsumi would be this night. After all, he knew her pattern down to a tee. It was the weekend after all, and Natsumi loved to be here at night.

But as he walked through the building, he saw no trace of her. Not even in her feline appearance. She was not here. Not even remotely. Which… was odd. Natsumi usually liked to be hang out here at the weekend, so why wasn't she here?

Unless… she was avoiding her usual haunts in lieu of him?

That was also a possibility. A frustrating one, but one nonetheless.

"You lookin' for someone?" A voice called out, as Izuku looked over his shoulder. It was a human male. Tall, brown hair, brown eyes. He wasn't anything of note, just a regular citizen wearing an employee uniform.

"Yes. Someone my age. Black hair, yellow eyes, pale skin. Has a cat mutation Quirk," Izuku said, listing off traits that Natsumi had, as the employee frowned.

"Nah. Haven't see someone like that today. They you're friend?" The employee asked as Izuku paused for a moment, before nodding. "Ah. Sorry, but I haven't seen anyone like that. But, could you please leave? If you're not playing any games. You're scaring the customers."

Izuku looked around. There were no other customers, and the man had a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his head. He was most likely afraid.

Izuku frowned "If you are afraid, then be honest. Do not blame it on the lack of customers, good sir," and with that, Izuku left. When he did, he lingered by the entrance for a few seconds. Just as he was about to leave after nothing happening, his earing picked up a low whisper.

"Okay, I got him to leave, but if what you're saying is true, and he's some kind of stalker, you should get out of here, now."

"Alright… Just give me a minute to gather my things…"

"Liar…" Izuku thought, hissing. He could rush back in and go on the assault, but his prey was Natsumi—someone who was clearly in that building. Although, he had to wonder where she had been hiding? Perhaps she had hidden in the employee's shirt? That was a possibility. But either way, it was still frustrating.

At the very least, she was leaving.

But, then in that case, how was he going to catch her?

Very simply, actually.

By changing his appearance.

Ducking quickly into an alleyway, Izuku's form changed. His skin rippled as his height grew, his eyes shifted hue from red to black, and his hair completely altered into a shade of brown. His skin colour remained the sickly pale it usually was, but to further distance himself from his usual form, he changed into that of a female.

He grew out a pair of breasts, felt his genital's change, and his internal organs shift and re-orientate in such a manner that it would fit her new form. She became more slender to fit the mold of what she was trying to do, and as for her clothing, she used her blood to create string which altered into a bigger shirt and a bigger set of pants.

It didn't take long for her to get changed, and when she did, she discarded her old clothes into a dumpster. She could buy some new ones later. No longer was she Izuku Midoriya. No. She was Chisumi Atasuki. A disguise that she had been working on.

Chisumi was an adult woman, looking for a job, and willing to do just about anything to make money. She was kind, caring, and knew how to party. She was single, with no family, as they had all died in a villain attack, and the best part?

Chisumi Atasuki did exist.

At least, she did until Izuku ate her.

Chisumi, the real one, was a villain. An unknown one, but one nonetheless. She had tried to break into her apartment one night, and Izuku ate her for it, stole her I.D., and did some research on her to perfect his newest disguise.

With her mother dead, her income as a Mangaka was just enough to pay the rent on the apartment and all the bills. But more than that, he needed an adult to submit his work. Hence why he now had Chisumi. He was going to talk to Mikoto to see if she would be willing to do hitman jobs for some extra money, that way, it would make things easier.

But that aside, "Chisumi" stepped out from the alleyway, and walked toward the Mikado Game Center, just as Natsumi was leaving. As she did, she noticed "Chisumi", and smiled. "Oh! Hello!"

"Hi!" "Chisumi" replied. "You look lonely. You need someone to walk you home?" "Chisumi" asked as Natsumi looked around, before nodding.

"Y-Yeah. I think someone's following me, and… I don't think it'd be safe for me to walk alone," Natsumi said as "Chisumi" hummed.

"Ah, a creep, right?"

"You can say that…" Natsumi muttered as "Chisumi" beamed.

"Well, lead the way!"

And lead the way Natsumi did. "Chisumi" followed suit, keeping her company, humming a tune to herself to keep up the act, while internally "Chisumi" waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. After all, that was the reason for this "Chisumi" disguise. To get close to Natsumi and feed upon her flesh. A gruelling reminder of what would happen to those who rejected her.

The closer they got to the house, the more paranoid Natsumi seemed to get. Paranoia which led to her speaking. "I-I just don't get it… I don't understand… We… we were such good friends… And then he turns out to be a freak!"

"Oh?"

"Y-Yeah…. We knew each other for years. Friends, one of my first. A-and… I really liked him. Maybe a bit too much. The way he acted was a little weird but that was just his charm! I-I never… never would've suspected that he was a villain…" Natsumi said as "Chisumi" listened intently.

"Go on…"

"I… I thought that we would be forever friends… He treated me like a person… He helped me when he didn't have to. He laughed at my jokes, he smiled and complimented my clothes…. I-I… I liked him… I really liked him… But then…"

"It's okay, I understand," "Chisumi" said, nodding. "I had someone I was really close to as well. They turned out to be a liar, and I couldn't trust them after that. In fact, I decided to make sure that they could never lie to me again."

"Whaddya mean?" Natsumi asked, although there was a cautious tone to her voice. They were just a few blocks away from Natsumi's house. It was quiet. Alone. No one was watching. The lights were all off. If now was her time to strike, she should do it.

It would be so easy. To rip and tear. To dig into the flesh of this unworthy human. This spiteful little cur, who rejected her so thoroughly. Who spat in her face and call her a villain. Who ran when she shouldn't have. Who knew who she was.

Someone, who needed to silenced.

She was lucky thus far. Lucky that no one at school knew the truth. Natsumi had been away, as it had seemed. But she knew that it would only be a matter of time.

And so…

She attacked.

"Chisumi" moved with precision, slashing her claws across Natsumi's throat. Blood sprayed, painting the sidewalk as Natsumi's eyes widened. "Chisumi's" body shifted and altered, returning to his original form, the clothes sagging off his body, revealing nothing underneath, as he lunged.

It was primal.

It was violent.

Natsumi tried to fight back, using her own claws to dig into his back, but it did not matter. For when his jaws clenched down on her shoulder, and as he ripped the flesh and skin off cleanly, her guttural, gurgled screams were the only thing that filled that sorrowful night.

When tooth met flesh, and when blood met tongue, Izuku did not stop. He slashed, ripped, and bit. He pulled, rendered, and gnawed. Blood filled his mouth like a fresh glass of juice, as it tainted the colour of his teeth. Meanwhile, Natsumi's cold, lifeless corpse could do nothing as he violated it with his maw and fangs.

By the time he was done, his body was drenched in ichor and viscera. Natsumi's corpse was defiled to such an extent that, aside from the face, nothing much of it was left. As Izuku pulled away from it, taking a step back, his mouth and face covered in blood, he couldn't help to stare.

He let it sink in.

He had killed an innocent person.

He had eaten an innocent person.

He should feel nothing from it.

He should feel prideful.

He should feel as if what he had done, the stalking, the tricking, and the penultimate act of consumption, meant nothing to him. Just another meal to add to his tally.

And yet, he found himself horrified.

Not but a few days ago, this corpse belonged to his friend.

Not but a few days ago, this corpse was someone who he would bend over backwards to protect.

Not but a few days ago, this corpse… Natsumi Nakime… was someone who made him feel like a person.

And now, he had eaten her. Tore her apart and defiled her corpse to such an extent that only her face was what remained to resemble her, because a part of him could not stand the idea of ruining it.

Izuku slumped to his knees, staring at the body, blood soaking his skin as it all absorbed into his body via his Biokinesis, and all he could do was reflect.

Why did he do this? Where had his rationality gone? Why did he allow his instincts to kick in? Why did he allow himself to do something like this? Something so wrong, something so deplorable.

In the moment, he rationalized it to himself.

In the moment, it felt good. To unleash his pent up frustration in the form of a brutalist murder. Rendering nothing left from the person who had rejected him. But at the end of the day, once it was done, all he felt was hollow and disgusted. Disgusted with himself and disgusted with his actions.

He reached out, caressing her face slowly.

Oh, what a monster he was.

Oh, what a diabolic wretch he had become.

He truly was a Demon. For no human could possibly do something so barbaric, so disgusting, so vile. Surely, they couldn't? Right?

His first thought was to bring her back. To turn her into a demon. But his instincts told him it was impossible. Now it was, anyway. She was dead. Her body was cold and he had been sitting there for the better part of half-an hour. The heart was no longer beating, and the brain was thoroughly shutdown. The cells would have nothing to listen to, and could not parasitize to the body.

And so, with nothing else to do, Izuku fled the scene.

Not but a few minutes later, a jogger would stumble across the horrific remains of Natsumi Nakime. The police would be called, and Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi would be sent to the scene. Despite having a feeling of who could have possibly committed the crime, with no evidence of the fact and only spoken word from the victim a day prior, Naomasa left the scene with nothing but pure frustration.

[XXXX]

Rokuro Nomura had to admit, whoever the people were who were eating people, he had to give them props for their violence. The city of Naruhata, and Japan as a whole, had been trembling with fear as of the last few days. People were scared to go out, in fear of being eaten by "The Cannibal" as some were calling it.

Although, Rokuro would've liked to think that the better way to refer to the group was "The Cannibals" since it was clearly more than one person. After all, no single individual could eat 1,038 people in less than three months. While Rokuro wasn't for that persuasion, he knew from talking to someone like Moonfish that even eating one person a week was a feat.

While Moonfish was retired, and now working as a dentist, the insight was good. The more information he could obtain on this group, the better. Especially since it was actively interfering with his plans to spread chaos using Trigger.

Out of the 1,038 people who were targeted, over 30 of them were people who were affiliated with his organization, The Villain Factory, and All For One was not pleased. He was supposed to sew seeds of distrust and fear, but if his people were being consumed before they could even get their product out and onto the streets, then what was the point?

The funding money was going nowhere, and with Kuin being reduced to literal bug-paste, and things were going to be escalated in the coming days. The enhanced Trigger they were working on was going to remain incomplete due to the lack of research done on the original batch they were cooking up, and to make matters even worse, his dreams were crumbling all around him.

All he ever wanted was to make a mark on the world. To show the world that he existed, and to please his caretaker. Hell, if it wasn't for his caretaker, he wouldn't have known that he himself existed. Even the name "Rokuro Nomura" was given to him by All For One. All he was before that was "Number Six."

It pissed him off.

This world pissed him off.

How come he was born with such a pathetic excuse of a society that forgot about him?

He calmed himself. The café he was in did not need to see his more ugly side. Not while he was on recon. After all, there was a reason why he was here and not at his warehouse.

Koichi Haimawari… The person who helped defeat Bakugo Katsuki, someone who Kuin had taken interest in, was also here. Rokuro wanted to chat with him, but he didn't know how to approach it. After all, he didn't want to come off as weird. His confidence would not allow him to do so.

In other words, he had to wing it.

Koichi was situated across the café, talking to Knuckleduster about something. More than likely it was about the recent murder. It was quite gory and it was all over the news.

"12-year-old Nakime Natsumi found brutally murdered and partially devoured by an unknown attacker... Eyewitness reports claim that a shapeshifter was responsible…" Rokuro muttered as he read the article off his phone. "No DNA evidence found of the attacker, linking this murder in with the other 1,000 murders across the country, making the culprit, or culprits, the most violent serial killer or killers known to Japan."

It was astonishing how bland the news was. He looked over to Koichi, who didn't even notice him, stirring his coffee idlily.

"Might as well make my mark…" Rokuro thought as he approached the table. When he did, Koichi noticed him, and spoke.

"Oh, hello. Um… do you need something?"

"Hate to bother you two, but I gotta ask… you guys here about what happened last night?" Rokuro asked as Knuckleduster—Iwao Oguro—grunted.

"Yeah. It was fucked. Whaddya want? Can't ya see we're a little busy here?"

"Uh… Master, maybe you should—"

"No, no, no! It's fine, I get it. I'm intruding. But… I just wanted to give you two my two cents on the matter…. Recently, I've heard that the person responsible might be hiding in amongst the vigilante crowd, masquerading as one…. Don't say you heard this from me, but I think Moonscent is behind this."

A disturbed look appeared on Koichi's face as his expression soured. "E-Eh? B-But he's helped a lot of people! Why would he—"

"—Never judge a person by their actions. Judge them by why they act. A lesson someone taught me recently in their passing. A friend of mine, Kuin, died. But she was a wacko. So much so that I didn't feel the least bit sad about their passing. That being said, she died because she liked to hurt innocent people, 'cause it brought her sexual gratification. She was a weirdo, and died a deserved death. Now tell me, why does Moonscent hunt people?"

"To help innocent civilians. Are you dense? 'Sides, he's just a kid," Iwao said, his tone of voice tight, but somewhat wavering. Doubtful. Something must've happened recently that shook his perception of Moonscent, aka Midoriya Izuku.

Good.

"Yes. To "help" them. But, if you haven't noticed, those people later wound up eaten, especially recently? Coincidence? Doubtful. A little birdie told me that he was going to come back, having been gone for a little while. If I was a hero, or even a vigilante, I'd confront them. After all, if I were to work alongside someone like that, I'd want to make sure that their methods were clean. Especially someone who drank blood. Think about it? What's the logical conclusion after drinking blood…?"

"Eating flesh…" Koichi whispered as Iwao scowled.

"Moonscent would never do that."

"And how do you know that? You don't know them on a personal level, do you?" Rokuro countered, before scoffing. "Frankly, I see all vigilantes as morons. Same way I see heroes. But Moonscent… I think he's just a villain in disguise, using his pseudo-infamy to drag people in and eat them," as Rokuro said that, he saw how Koichi looked conflicted. Iwao didn't seem to change his stance in seeing that Izuku Midoriya was a good person, but all he needed was to get Koichi to question it.

Because if Koichi questioned it, he might just get himself killed.

And Koichi was part of the reason his plans were ultimately failing.

Using one of his enemies against the other. Yes, that would do nicely.

"You done?" Iwao barked as Rokuro threw up his hands in a placating manner.

"Alright, alright, I'll leave you alone. Just wanted to get my two cents out. Have a good day," Rokuro said, before walking off. As he did, he couldn't help but smirk. Sometimes, words mean more than actions. And, if he was right about this, and if his words rang true, then this might have been his best move yet.

[XXXX]

"Now arriving at: Musutafu City. Thank you for choosing Mitsuba Train Station as your place of destination," a robotic feminine voice echoed out as a man dressed in a white haori with black highlights stepped onto the platform. Underneath the haori was a white tunic, held together by a black belt, and white hakama pants.

The man, in his late 70s, with pale white hair and wrinkled skin, got stares from a few people. His attire was outdated, that much was for sure, but the man did not care. As a matter of fact, Suguru thought that the people's opinions were nothing but repulsive.

Quirked folk… they were nothing more than humanized demons. He had always seen them in that way. His children did not return to him, so he assumed the worst. Then again, the saying was "better to do it yourself than allow your lesser's to try and accomplish something."

Do not get him wrong. His children were talented with the blade, but they were not as practiced as him. Suguru had been mastering his technique since he was a child. It was why he was the heir to the Ubuyashiki Estate and not his siblings, who had moved away when he took over, severing their name and starting families outside of it.

Frankly, he found it pathetic. They couldn't stand his opinions, so they left? Honestly, if that was how they were going to be, then fine. To hell with them. Especially Jiriya, or as he was known widely as, Yoroi Musha. Not only did he become a "hero", he brought their arts into the public view, a taboo.

And yet…

"You come to greet me? Truly, Jiriya, you are a fool," Suguru said, his voice low and gravely. Compared Suguru's flowing white hair, Jiriya was bald with a full beard that covered his mouth. Compared to Suguru's full attire, Jiriya was dressed in a simple black kimono that covered his entire body, with his hands covered by his sleeves.

"I came out of curtesy, brother, and to confirm the truth. Is the Demon King truly back? Has he been reborn?" Jiriya asked as Suguru scowled.

"Yes. Now, if you're done, I have a job to complete," Suguru grunted as Jiriya coughed.

"You're going to die, if you intend on fighting him alone…"

"I'd rather die alone than fight alongside a blood traitor," Suguru bit as Jiriya scowled. "You married a Quirked freak, and had children with them."

"And you had a daughter with a Pro Hero, so what does that say about you?" Jiriya spat as Suguru shrugged.

"It was for political power, and nothing else."

"You're scum."

"And you're in my way," Suguru growled, putting a hand on the hilt of his blade. There was a pause in the air, as Jiriya narrowed his eyes. Suguru was armed, and Jiriya was not. There was only one way this encounter would go if hostilities were exchanged, and both parties knew it. "Are you still going to stand in my way?"

"No…"

"Then goodbye," and with that, Suguru walked away. Jiriya watched as he left, and when he did, he let out a sigh.

"Brother… you oafish fool…"

Jiriya knew this would happen. Deep down, he had a feeling that his brother would do something foolish. He just never knew it would be this foolish.

He could only hope that his moronic brother would not get himself killed. But, his rationality knew otherwise. Suguru would more than likely die trying to fight the reborn Demon King—assuming that Suguru wasn't simply being delusional—and that would leave it up to him…

And if Jiriya was being honest? He did not want to be the one in charge of ending the new Demon King.

But, nevertheless, The Demon King had targetted him.

His granddaughter was killed.

His dear sweet Natsumi.

And that… was not allowed.

"I swear, for you, my beloved Granddaughter… His head will be mine."

[Ending Song: Nonsense Bungaku]