»»————- ☩ ————-««

                                             [ FIVE YEARS AGO ]

Shoto hadn't meant to hurt the poor thing. Although, as soon as he encountered it he knew only one of them would come back alive.

The young twelve-year-old stood rigidly in the middle of the clearing—the afternoon sun stark, painting the autumn leaves and blanket of grass, gold. Tears stained his cheeks, the droplets blowing sideways off his face as the south winds harshly wiped them off. It was the perfect day for hunting. Every boy in the village had already begun their first hunts months ago . . . He had been what one might call a 'late-bloomer'.

Too soft. Too shy. Too innocent to kill.

He watched as the small deer twitched and cried out, a stream of blood matting its fur down on the side of its neck. The gentle kiss of death slowly pressing onto the animal—its suffering drawn out and prolonged. It was torture.

His stomach lurched and twisted at the sight, mind numb and blank, and heart trying so desperately to free itself of the weak emotions only a twelve-year-old could conjure. Shoto wasn't supposed to be weak—he was reminded so everyday—if he was to be Ductor one day, then these foolish emotions needed to subside. However, as he stood there, watching the helpless animal bleed out his heart wrenched for the creature.

Another tear slipped past his cheek, teetering at the cliff of his chin until the wind blew it away. He stared down at his small hands, lathered and dripping red, handprints smeared across his pants. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop the blood from sticking to his skin.

As the boy stayed glued to his spot, his head spun with a plethora of thoughts . . . feelings. All too much for one person to comprehend.

His bones hardened like cement, locking down on itself till the mere thought of moving constricted his airflow. It's my fault, it's my fault, it's my fault. The chanting in his head sent his breathing into an erratic frenzy—his skin set alight and burned with each slight breeze that swept it.

The leaves of a nearby tree rustled, long after the wind had stopped blowing. Shoto snapped back to reality, momentarily forgetting the anguished cries of the deer as his two-toned eyes scanned the area. His knees slowly pulling down—prepared to lurch himself in any direction at the sign of attack.

However, before he could do so, the world he knew tipped on its axis as he fell to the ground with a thud. His vision clouded with locks of ash-blond hair and a pair of vermillion eyes. For a moment—one sweet and savoring moment—a smile tipped the corners of his lips up, inhaling Katsuki's sweet scent he had come to find comforting. But that moment ended.

And he was left with the blood still staining his hands.

"What's up with you—?" Katsuki's question died on his tongue as he pulled himself and the other boy up.

The blond boy was rather tall for his age, towering over Shoto by a good five or six inches. His sharp features were pulled down with concern and worry as he examined his friend, blood-splattered clothing, tear-stained cheeks, and mottled lips from biting them. Katsuki looked over to the animal a few feet away, its hind legs thrashing rapidly—breathing more labored and ragged.

Katsuki frowned at the sight, albeit realization colored his red irises. "Your father finally made you go on a hunting mission, huh?"

Shoto nodded solemnly, his defocused look snapping away at the mention of his father. "You can't be here—" he lightly pushed on Katsuki's shoulders, "—it's still daylight out, someone might see you."

The two were from different tribes, Shoto being the heir to Qui In Lingo and Katsuki to In Monte Populo. The rivalry between the two tribes was stronger than any other tribe in the province. With centuries of war and dispute hanging below them, the friendship between the two boys would only add fuel to the fire if anyone found out.

"I know," the young heir scanned the perimeter, "but I wanted to come and see you."

Before Shoto could press the matter any further, for his eyes were still a bit focused on the dying animal, Katsuki stepped away from him. He watched silently as the younger male bent down next to the deer, placing his hand beneath its jaw and neck before swiftly pulling on opposite sides. Snapping it in one swift motion.

"I know you don't like to see them suffer just as much as you hate to kill them," Katsuki mumbled, "Let's get out of here, though, before someone does find us."

Shoto wiped his wet eyes. "But what about the—"

"Leave it here, the mountain lions don't usually cross the border of my tribe. It should be fine here until we get back," he huffed, extending his hand out for the boy to take.

This was a usual reoccurrence between the two, a nightly one, in fact. Katsuki—a skillful tracker at the age of eleven—easily crossed the borders between tribes without anybody on either side noticing. Covering his tracks while marking the tracks of others as he did so. Albeit, this visit was quite different from all the others, for it was mid-day and the news he brought with him was anything but good.

Though given Shoto's current state of shock, the boy thought it'd be best to hold off for now.

"Are you okay?" Katsuki asked after they had settled into a canopy of trees, the branches arching over a waterfall nearby.

"No,"

The dual-haired boy ran his fingers through his hair, biting back the onslaught of tears that clouded his eyes. It burned to hold them back, the rims of his two-toned eyes painted light pink. His nose and cheeks matching in color as he watched the trickle of water descend into the abyss below.

"At first," he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, "I thought I'd be able to do it like he wanted. I mean, I've eaten deer before so killing one shouldn't be a problem, right?"

Katsuki remained silent, rubbing his back in soothing circles—allowing the boy to vent as much as he needed.

Shoto's voice broke. "But it's not the same. It wasn't bothering anybody, Kat, I don't even think the poor thing was mature yet. But if I don't come home with one my dad . . . he'll . . . I—"

For someone so young Shoto's heart was so broken. Scattered around the plains of his soul, finding the missing shards was like looking for a needle in a haystack in the dead of night. No guidance to help you—and if you were too quick you risk the chance of pricking your finger.

So, as the two boys sat there, legs dangling from a thick branch with nothing but the harsh lullaby of the waterfall to keep them company, Shoto wondered aimlessly in his mind. He wondered if his father had always been the same cruel and heartless man he came to know. He wondered if, whenever the day arose, he would turn out to be the same man his father was when he assumed leadership over the tribe. He wondered if the life ahead of him was set in stone.

Katsuki pushed Shoto's hair back using the heel of his palm—his own attempts at being gentle with the boy. "I know that face. Whatever it is you're thinking, stop it."

"Too late for that,"

The blond offered a gentle smile, a rare sight, as he cupped the side of Shoto's cheeks. "You're not him. You're not your dad, Sho . . . You're nice and sweet and caring—and you value the life of everything and everyone around you."

"That's the problem!" Shoto exclaimed, wrenching his face from the other boys' hold. "I can't be weak. All of those things . . . they make me weak . . . I—"

He fell silent, not wanting to continue his rapid train-of-thought. 

When Shoto's gaze remained downturned the blond boy tucked his finger under his chin, tilting his head up. The dual-haired heir gave him a soft lipped smile, though the gesture didn't reach his eyes. 

"C'mon, where's the fun Shoto I met all those months ago? Hm?"

"Oh, I was fun?" Shoto drawled, quirking a white brow.

"You are fun . . . Even when you're trying to court me," Katsuki grinned, briefly thinking back to all the times the elder had tried to flirt or coax Katsuki into a relationship with him.

Shoto sighed wistfully, his moment of despair seemingly dissipating. "Are you admitting that you see yourself marrying me when we're older?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Hell no," he had meant for the words to come out more hard and forceful, though the smile on his face gave his true emotions away.

"I still plan on marrying you one day, though," Shoto said matter-of-factly, his chin jutted in the air.

The blond stared at the water ahead. "I'm sure you do. I still don't understand why though . . . Wouldn't it be easier to court someone from your own village?"

While the two had barely just begun the slow and torturous process of puberty, they had the weight of the world settled firmly on their shoulders. For the two were both heir's to their own tribes—courtships were one of the many duties they had to uphold. Even at such a young age.

And Shoto was dead-set on Katsuki.

"Yes. It would be, but where's the fun in that?"

Katsuki shot the boy a deadpanned look, clearly unimpressed with his reasoning though still intrigued.

"I'm serious, Shoto, why do you want to court me?" Katsuki huffed, arms crossed and eyes locked into the two-toned ones before him.

"Why, do you already have someone in mind from your village to court?" Shoto countered.

Exasperated, the younger male swiftly swatted the back of his head. "Stop answering my questions with more questions!"

"Alright, alright," Shoto chuckled a complacent smile on his face. "I don't know. My mother had been preparing me for that day for . . . well, as long as I can remember. She told me not to make the same mistakes she and my father made—she told me to really put some thought into it, imagine who'd I want to spend the rest of my life with."

"And you want to spend the rest of your life with me?" Katsuki asked incredulously, tilting his head.

Shoto nodded solemnly. "Very much so, yes."

Seconds passed and the younger gave no response to Shoto's declaration. Only the sound of the waterfall filled the space between them. A bittersweet symphony.

The elder frowned, only for a devilish glint to ignite in his eyes as he slowly stood up on the sturdy branch. It was a rather imprudent action on his end, what with the chance of him free-falling a good thirty feet to a watery death, standing on the branch was a heedless choice. Though the twelve-year-old's balance was still good—he motioned for Katsuki to stand up as well.

"What?" Katsuki huffed, a smirk toying with his lips.

"I need to know, right here and now, what it's going to take for you to marry me when I become Ductor." Shoto declared, his eyebrows denting seriously and mouth taut.

Katsuki thought for a moment, balancing back and forth from one foot to the other—not doing much to soothe Shoto's anxiety. Though it did give the boy the opportunity to stare at Katsuki without the risk of him noticing, for he was too deep in thought. Shoto, a boy who knew not a thing about love at the time of their meeting, had a general idea of what it felt like on the fateful day that Katsuki tackled him mid-air and tried to slit his throat.

When they had met Katsuki had been everything his mother had warned him about in a Monte Populo villager. He was aggressive, serious, and ill-mannered. But what his mother failed to mention was that he'd be breathtakingly beautiful in every way possible. It made the twelve-year-old's heart skip several beats, synchronizing itself to match the rhythm of Katsuki's until they were aligned perfectly.

It was just a crush, he had reminded himself countless times after that. A deadly crush at that— since their tribes have been clashing with one another for years.

But as days dragged to weeks and into months, the small flame of Shoto's crush trickled into a roaring blaze. He had never felt such emotions for another person in all his life. Truth be told, it scared him in more ways than he could imagine. But he knew, without a doubt, that he had eyes for Katsuki and Katsuki only.

"Fine. One day . . . I'll marry you, but only when you're taller than me." Katsuki said with a lopsided grin, making a show of towering over the boy for emphasis.

Shoto pondered this for a minute, before withdrawing the small blade tucked within his armor. "Okay, let's seal this arrangement properly, then. We seal it with blood," he affirmed, wincing as he sliced a deep cut within the palm of his hand, holding the weapon out for Katsuki to take.

"Fine," Katsuki mirrored the action. "Good luck, Shorty."

                                             [ PRESENT DAY ]

War, death, repeat.

War, death, repeat. 

It was a never-ending cycle of bloodshed and torture, dating back years and years between the three tribes of the province. Nothing changed between them—and sometimes, Shoto felt like a fool for thinking otherwise.

Absentmindedly, he rubbed the faded scar that adorned his left palm, with a glazed-over look on his face as he paced. Thankfully, they had thought to bring extra pairs of armor and clothes on the trip to the Bunker. So, after what seemed like days of trying to find the right fit for Izuku's small frame, Shoto had finally found a piece that would suffice. 

Not that he was happy about the mission to come. 

It was bad enough he was forcing the unwaveringly loyal subjects of his guard to join him on said rescue mission—but for Izuku to come along with them? The thought scared him to his wits end. Albeit, he didn't quite trust the boy . . . but he was beginning to rub off on him. Even if that weren't the case, he had no training whatsoever in terms of combat—while Shoto had no doubt the boy could old his own, he hadn't the faintest clue of the dangers to come.

The young Ductor felt as though he were leading a lamb to the slaughter.

Meanwhile, Izuku's mind was in a directionless frenzy. An abundant amount of emotions and thoughts filling him to the brink of explosion as he paced back and forth in his late parents' room.

He had gotten dressed a good fifteen minutes ago, though he needed some time by himself before he could face Shoto again. Before he could face that look of despair, loss, and hollowness etched onto Shoto's features. 

While he knew that none of this was his fault, he still could not help but hold himself responsible for Katsuki and Shinsou's capture. If he had never killed his parents that day, if he let them turn him into a mindless Excor, he would have never met the Natives. He never would have led them to the Bunker. Shoto would still have the love of his life by his side.

Everywhere he went disaster seemed to follow. Lives put in jeopardy—or worse, lives were lost. So, he had come to conclusion to extract himself from the equation after this was all over. By the time they returned with Katsuki and Shinsou, the three women would be more than healed, and he would no longer be needed.

He would disappear. And never come back.

The young male examined himself in the long, body-length, mirror in the corner of his parents' room. The clothes Shoto provided him with were felt foreign yet surprisingly comfortable against his skin. His pants were sleek and black, yet soft and stretchable—probably constructed from the hide of an animal, had to guess. And his shirt was cool and pressed tightly onto every crevice on his frame. 

The chest armor, which he had come to realize was layers upon layers of leather, was hard but flexible. Definitely sturdy enough to withstand whatever spear of arrow anybody would try to attack him with. Izuku sighed, slipping on the matching pairs of leather gauntlets which cut off at the wrist. 

Just as he were about to leave the calming space, which had surrounded him with his parents' scent, something dazzling caught the corner of his eye. He soon recognized it to be his father's ring.

Its band polished, pristine, and vibrant silver—something his mother had worked to achieve for him. Nostalgia and guilt plagued Izuku's sanity, weighing on his consciousness like a life-sucking force. Not once did it let up. No, it continued its job at draining and draining, leaving the boy a hopeless pile of . . . nothing.

Without hesitation, he slipped the ring onto his finger. Taking in the room once more before pivoting on his heel and into the hall, reaching the storage room within minutes.

"Well?" Izuku prompted, fanning his hands along the length of his body. "Does it fit okay?"

Shoto faltered, eyes wide as he stared at the boy—clad in Qui In Lingo armor and clothes—before schooling his features. Trying his best to ignore the way the material hugged the freckled males' frame. 

"It'll do," he replied curtly, eyes darting back over towards the rows and rows of Rover's. "You're sure these'll work?"

Izuku nodded firmly, a coy smile plastered on his face. "Positive,"

Shoto raised a brow, his head tilted as he tried to find the double-meaning behind Izuku's words. The younger, still appearing rather pleased with himself, quickly walked over to the Rover he had activated minutes before. 

"I may or may not have made some adjustments when you were looking for some clothes for me," Izuku drawled, trailing his finger along the Rover.

"'Adjustments?'"

Izuku nodded, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "Well, it wasn't really my idea . . . It's something the engineers have been working on for while before—" he motioned the barren room. "—this. Anyway, I just hope it works,"

Shoto, still genuinely curious, joined Izuku at his side, staring with raised eyebrows at the Rover. "And what exactly are those adjustments?" 

"Cloaking features. You know . . . invisibility?"

"And how the hell is something as big as this—" his hands vaguely gestured to the Rover. "—supposed to be invisible?"

Izuku shrugged. "Through lots of science and mechanical modifications, duh."

The elder was a bit unfamiliar with most of those terms, only knowing a vague sense of what they did and meant. Though, for the time being, he'd just have to take Izuku's word for it. He knew that invisibility was the key, especially with them preparing to cross the border lines—because once that happened it'd be a free-for-all.

All bets off.

And when that happened . . . well, Shoto hadn't thought that far ahead. 

"Fine. Are you ready? I sent half of the guard we had with us back to the village to give orders and directions, the other half is still here. So, do you have everything you need?"

Izuku nodded firmly, fists balled at his sides. "What's the plan here . . . I wasn't exactly paying attention when you were yelling earlier,"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Shoto begins to tell the boy his plan. It was a rescue operation, designed to be quick and efficient while going unnoticed by the enemy. A distraction was needed if they wanted to draw as much as attention away from Katsuki and Shinsou. Thankfully, Kaminari knew the are of In Monte Populo well—he was key to finding out where they would be holding the boys.

Of course, they'd be traveling in separate groups. One group scouting ahead in the trees while the other stayed behind for a while before inevitably joining with the others in the Rover.

They'd send a small group to sneak in and secure the boys while another group stayed by the front lines to control and assess the situation following the distraction. Izuku would remain a few yards away from the front-line group—monitoring from the safety of the vehicle with medical supplies ready in case anything went astray.

A perfect plan, really. As long as they all made it out alive and unscathed, that is.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Shoto eyed the boy skeptically.

Izuku shifted under his long and hard gaze, cheeks puffed and nose scrunched. Truth be told, he wasn't. There so many fucking reasons he shouldn't have asked to join, to stay tucked away in a corner and never come out. He knew not a damn thing about what he was getting himself into—only what others had to say on the matter.

But damn it, he had to go. If he was going to die, it'd be doing something selfless and honest for a change. If he was going to die . . . it'd be in the place of someone who was the total opposite of him. Good.

If there was anything Izuku Midoriya was, good wasn't one of them.

"Definitely. Now, what're we doing just standing around for? You wanna go get your man or not?" he grinned, smug as ever.

Shoto pushed his hand against Izuku's cheek, as if trying to wipe the smile from his face. "You know, as much as you two butt heads you sure do act like him sometimes,"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that, for the sake of my sanity." Izuku gasped, mock-offence plastered on his face.

Within a few minutes, Shoto had gathered the small portion of the group that stayed behind. Going over the mission's details once more, determination soaked with each word he spoke. With that, everyone clambered inside the vehicle—the Natives trying and failing to conceal their awe as Izuku climbed into the driver seat. 

His hand hovered over the stick-shift, inhaling deeply through his nose with his other hand hovering over a small blue button on his side door. It opened and closed the Rover entrance which led outside. It's just like driving in the simulator, Izuku. He had tried to remind himself.

"Are you sure you know how to work this thing?" a girl with short black hair, whom Izuku had come to know as Xara, asked.

"Yes," Izuku hissed through his teeth, still making no movement to accelerate the Rover further.

A man with dazzling white hair, and a large piece of cloth covering his eyes, raised an eyebrow. Soiren, Izuku recognized him as. "Then why aren't we moving?"

With a glare, Izuku switched the Rover into drive, opening the hatch to outside and pressing on the acceleration pedal with excess force. Another wave of nostalgia hit Izuku then as he watched the leaves scatter off the hatch, revealing a stream of moonlight in its wake. He had watched the Researcher's leave on expeditions countless times from the safety of the Bunker, driving off into the forest in the Rover.

Never in a million years did he imagine he'd be doing the same.

It's just like driving in the simulator. It's just like driving in the simulator.

Though, if he were being honest with himself, it wasn't like driving in the simulator. It was so much more blood-racing and heart-pounding exhilaration than he could have ever envisioned. He weaved the Rover with ease through the colossal trees, beelining a path through the wildlife around him.

It was amazing.

Shoto, on the other hand, though the complete opposite. With his fingers clutched tightly around his seat buckles, knuckles white with strain, he breathed deeply in and out of his nose. The forest a blurry haze at his window, no real distinction between the tree trunks or the sky. No, it was all one big blurry blob.

Fuck.

"Slow down," he breathed, his feet planted firmly on the floor. 

"Awe," Izuku frowned, his playful mood resurfacing. "And here I thought you were the type who liked it fast."

Shoto managed to glare at him through his mask of horror. Eventually, he relaxed as the speedometer on the dashboard began to tick down.

"Do you always have to be a nuisance?" he'd meant for the question to be rhetorical.

Izuku shrugged, making a sharp turn for emphasis, causing the Ductor to crash into the side of his door. "Yes. Yes I do,"

"How long will it take us to get there?" Xara asked, anxious for a fight, it seemed. 

"Well, since the pussy over here wants me to go slow—" he enunciated the word sensually, throwing Shoto a shit-eating grin. "—an hour at most. Especially since we have to avoid all those traps you guys talked about,"

Soiren huffed, appearing just as eager as his sister was. "You know what's been bugging me?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell us anyway," Izuku huffed.

"Why the hell are we trusting you?"

Shoto gave the man a warning look. "Soiren," he spoke his name like a command.

"What? I have a point don't I?" he leaned back in his seat, lips pressed into a hard line. Izuku was sure if he could see the mans' eyes, they'd appear just as cold as his tone. "We just met you . . . what, two days ago? Now, you're coming on missions with us—being entrusted with the lives of our people,"

"I'm assuming there's a point to all of this?" Izuku prompted, ignoring Shoto's wishes from before as he subconsciously pressed harder on the pedal.

"Yeah, there is. I don't trust you, so explain to me—" he turned to Shoto, "—why the hell do you?"

It was quiet for a few moments as Shoto mulled the question, avoiding eye-contact with a stoic Izuku in the driver seat. Then he answered, blunt and quickly.

"I don't trust him."

Soiren unfettered a noise close between a scoff and a groan, his eyes most likely blazing beneath the piece of cloth that covered them. He gripped the back of Shoto's seat tightly. However, before he could respond with another rant, Shoto beat him to the punch.

"But that doesn't make him any less useful to us." he eyed Izuku now, watching as the corners of his lips twitched. "Now, if anybody else would like to question my leadership by all means, the floor is yours. If not, I suggest you all shut the fuck up and prepare yourselves for what's to come,"

The car was silent after that, nobody dare uttering a word. 

Shoto liked the quietness of the Rover, how it filled the air till it became its own person—taking up the empty seat behind him meant for Katsuki if they got him. When. When they got him. He wondered idly what the boy, his love and his entire world, was thinking right at that moment.

Two-toned eyes flickered to the vast sea of stars painted across the sky, he wondered if Katsuki could see the stars too. He wondered if it was those stars that kept him company in the face of his foes, if he was still alive and fighting . . . or . . . Shoto shook his head violently, no doubt drawing attention to himself from the other passengers, he mustn't think such things.

But it was hard not to.

Not when the boy he loved so dearly—ever since the young age of twelve—was in grave danger.

"Right there!" after almost an hour, Xara began violently slapping Izuku's arm. 

The Rover pulled to a stop, its lights flipping off and engine running at an inaudible hum, Izuku prepared to turn on its cloaking device. Xara was quick to slip out into the cool night air, stopping a few inches in front of the Rover to point at a large tree.

Its branches were all curved outward, large leaves hanging off and nearly brushing the floor as the wind blew them. Soiren was quick to follow after the girl, tightening the cloth covering his eyes as he did so. Izuku wondered to himself why he wore the piece of fabric.

"Look," Xara pointed at the tree bark once they had all exited the Rover, a small engraving dented it. A symbol. Freshly carved, too. "This is the others letting us know it's safe to come through this way,"

"Alright—" Shoto turned to Izuku, pointing at the large array of mountains a couple yards away "—the border is right over there past that stream. No doubt they'll have guards lurking somewhere in those rocks, so you need to stay here. Turn on the invisibility thing on the . . ."

"Rover?" Izuku supplied as Shoto searched for the right word.

He nodded quickly speaking to Soiren and Xara in Latin, sending them both jumping through the trees. 

Shoto glanced back at the boy. "No matter what I need you stay put, got it?"

"Okay, dad," Izuku scoffed, though he glared worriedly at the ominous mountains blanketed by the shadows of night. 

"I'm serious, Izuku." Shoto said firmly, "Stay here. If anything goes astray I'll send a signal, and you get the hell out of here and to the village—understood?"

"But how will I know what kind of signal you're—?"

Shoto quickly cut in. "You'll know," 

The two stared at each for a few moments, watching as the other was soaked in a glow of moonlight. Shoto opened his mouth . . . words . . . words . . . they never formed on the tip of his tongue. He did not trust the boy, he did not know the boy, but despite all the cons he felt responsible for him. For this boy who reminded him so much of himself when he was younger.

Izuku softly punched his arm, a smile on his face. "Go find him. I'll be good and stay put,"

"I mean it. If I find out you moved from this spot—"

"I'll let you tie me up and spank me as punishment," Izuku gave him a mock salute as the other male stifled a laugh. 

Within moments, moving so quickly Izuku could hardly register it, Shoto was hopping through the trees. Moving out of sight after seconds had passed. 

Izuku sighed, eyes slipping close as the moonlight washed over his skin. If there was one thing he'd never get used to it was how beautiful the world look at nighttime. Sure, the sun had its advantages with providing light and glowing on all the beauty Earth had to offer—but the night? It enhanced those beauties in a way the daytime never could.

Ominous yet tranquil. 

Beautiful yet deadly.

The night was home to many things, secrets that could never be decoded in the daylight, shadows that lurk in comfort of fear. But despite all of that . . . it was still oh so beautiful.

He turned on his heel, about to enter the Rover, when he heard. 

Snap.

Izuku froze, unmoving, unbreathing, hell he wasn't even blinking. He did not tell himself it was 'just the wind' or 'just an animal' because he knew better. No, after everything he went through in the past two days . . . he knew better. So, as sweat began to glisten on his skin and a cold tremor raked through his bones—Izuku was prepared to face danger in the eyes.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Just as he was about to break out into a sprint, his once standstill world had flipped on its axis. Something ramming into him from above, hard, like a predator pouncing on its prey. Just as he hit the ground, he landed a perfectly aimed punch to whoever launched at him, quickly trying to scramble away.

Izuku crawled backwards, eyes wide. His palms were flush against the grass, pulling small pieces with him as he went. Within moments his back hit a tree, no escape. His mind wasn't processing the situation correctly. 

Damn it, not now.

His memory was stuck at a impasse, he watched as the figured pulled themselves up to their knees. And his mind instantly went to his mother and father, remembering as he watched them do the same upon their transformation into becoming an Excor. The figure—face hidden in that blanket of shadows—smiled.

A devilish smile, one that made Izuku feel as though he were being devoured from the outside in.

Then it spoke. Clear in a low baritone. "Hello, there."

Everything went black.                                            

Hello Cricket Cultists!!

LONGEST FUCKING CHAPTER OF MY LIFE.

I edited this really late at night . . . so if you see anything that's messed up just let me know. Kay?

Anywho, what do we think?

Thoughts?

Questions/rants?

I guess I'll be posting every . . . ten days? Just until I can get my school schedule on track and everything. But love you guys!

Until we meet again!!!