TRIGGER WARNING: SLIGHT GORE
PROCEED.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

"Pick up, pick up, pick up!" I muttered, waiting for Izuku to answer my call.

"Hello?" He answered. His voice was deep and scratchy, and I could tell he had just woken up, probably from a nap before a graveyard shift.

"Izuku, you're gonna think I'm crazy, but hear me out," I stated more than requested, deadest on getting my theory across.

"I'm hearing, I'm hearing," he muttered, too tired to care about grammar.

"I think we're dealing with Stain."

The line was silent.

"You what?"

"Let me rephrase. I think we're dealing with a copycat of Stain, some super fan."

Is what I said. But something in my gut told me no, that we were dealing with Stain. The real, honest-to-god Hero Killer: Stain. I don't know, maybe I was crazy, but Stain was smart enough to do this. And yes, he died five years ago in prison, but he's smart what if he faked it? His whole death seemed sketchy to me.

What if someone with influence helped him fake it?

The line, again, was silent.

"You what?"

"The stab wounds on the victims body were created by something similar to a steak knife, but it was way too long to be a steak knife. Who had steak-knife-like swords and even said they were custom made? Stain. The Hero Killer: Stain. Does that make sense?" I explained it all in a hurry, knowing full well he would have many questions.

Why now? Why wait so long after Stain's death or even his imprisonment? Why go into quirk trafficking? Why not carry out Stain's old mission?

"You what?"

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Izuku held his wrist tightly, knuckles turning white as he stopped his hand from shaking.

Stain huh...?

He still remembered how it felt. To be stuck in place, hunched over at the waist, trying and failing to move a finger, a toe, flex a muscle, anything.

He felt so... helpless.

He had to watch as Shoto fought the villain off and then Iida as he regained movement, Iida was fine, so why can't he move?

Move goddamn it, move!

He couldn't. He was forced to watch as his friends did everything for him, he couldn't do a thing.

Move, just move! Goddamn it, why am I so useless?! Move!

He gasped slightly, his head dropping and shaking as he waved the memory away.

No. I'm not useless because... because I helped in the end. Yeah... I used my right arm and I helped.

"Izuku?"

His attention snapped to his phone once again, hearing the detective's voice on the other end. Relief washed over him as she pulled him from the middle of a downward spiral, his mind quickly shoving the potential breakdown into the back of his mind.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said, swallowing thickly, "yeah I'm ok. You just caught me off guard."

"I figured, sorry about that."

"You're fine, I apologize," he said, nervously chuckling as he stood from his bed. "So explain that to me again?"

"I think Stain has something to do with this, wether he be an influence or actually our killer and/or kidnapper. But—" she sighed, knowing her sounded crazy, "I have this feeling it's really Stain." She was ready to hear him tell her she was insane, that Stain was in fact dead and it that had to be copy cat.

"Why?"

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Tomura let out a yell as his fist collided with the stone wall for nth time that day. His knuckles were broken and bleeding, the wall smeared with his blood.

Solitary confinement was the worst.

He wasn't even supposed to be here, he didn't do anything!

He was trying to be on his best behavior so that he would be out when (Y/N) visited. It's a week until that date and he has no clue how long he'll be in here.

All the time alone in the cement box did give him something though.

Time.

So, with nothing else to do, he sat and he thought. He thought about her, the woman he was in love with, his rise to the top of the League, his leadership skills, that phase he went through where he listened to All for One.

Once he stopped listening to him, stopped following his ideals and his lessons, villainous acts became a lot more... fun.

Because of his previous villainous acts, Tomura knew the minute, no, the second he stepped out of line he would thrown into solitary.

Any other time that would've been fine, solitary was fine, but not this month. Not this month because this month (L/N) (Y/N) was coming to visit.

Granted, he threatened her into coming, but that's not the point.

The point is she was coming.

She was coming in a week.

A week ago, when two guards stormed into his cell, Tomura tried to be compliant. He tried to be nice and smile and ask if there was something wrong, but the guards wouldn't speak. They hoisted him up with ease, being much taller than him, and marched him over to solitary.

He kicked and tried to get away but their grip only tightened on his arms.

And here he was, a week into solitary, still trying to figure out why he was here. They never told him a thing.

That's when it dawned on him.

He hadn't done anything wrong.

He did chores, he was quiet, he didn't start fights, he didn't try to kill anyone, he wasn't caught for smuggling that stuff in.

If he'd done something, they would have told him.

The only reason he's here is because it was ordered from upstairs, higher than the guards, higher than the wardens, the supervisors, hell, the president of the prison himself.

"That bastard!" Tomura screamed, beating his fist against the floor only once.

But why? He thought, why did he do it now? What's the purpose? He doesn't do anything unless it's in his favor, so why—

"Shit," he muttered.

He needed to get out of solitary and he needed to get out now.

Before he got to (Y/N).

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The man huffed, rolling his eyes. He watched from his perch as she paced her living area, occasionally chewing her nail while she spoke on the phone.

The ground below hummed with an almost silent sound, the air filled with the late night noise.

She connected the dots. He knew it, he could feel it in the air, she had connected the dots and figured it out. Some of it at least, there's no doubt.

They'll never believe her though, it sounds too insane. No way. She's smart, but not that smart. There's a week until they're supposed to meet up, and then she'll find out he's in solitary. How long can I keep him there? They cannot, under any circumstances, speak to one another.

He had taken it upon himself to keep them apart.

And apart they shall be.

what's this? an update that's not a day late?🧍‍♀️

Fun Fact: One of Daichi's flash drives (the ones in his fingers due to his quirk) is devoted completely to pictures of his girlfriend.

Reminder: it's ok to not be happy sometimes. everyone has bad days, bad weeks, bad months and that's ok. because eventually it'll get better, i promise you. it will get better. i love you all💞💞

Over and out.