{thinking}
[text/video/call]
(Action)
"Expression through Writing and talking"
-Point of View (POV) author notes-
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-3rd person pov-
At the door stood Izuku Midoriya—the protagonist of this world's story, the boy destined to inherit One for All. But right now, he was still just Deku, quirkless and nervous, unaware of the storm that lay ahead. Delsin's sharp mind ran the timeline in an instant: two days from now, the plot would truly begin.
His jaw tightened. Rei had been about to make things interesting at the table, and Toga was already buzzing with her usual chaotic energy. Now here stood Midoriya, interrupting what could've been the start of a very spicy evening.
Delsin's green eyes narrowed dangerously, his fingers twitching as molten heat built just beneath his skin. He didn't care if Izuku was his childhood friend—if Deku didn't have a damn good reason for showing up unannounced, Delsin was more than ready to throw hands for the interruption
Delsin: (fist clenched) "So, Deku… why are you here, my friend?"
Deku: (stuttering) "I-I just wanted to see if you're available… there's something I need to talk to you about. It's probably important."
Delsin: "…Get in, idiot."
Deku slipped off his shoes at the entryway, clearly nervous, before stepping inside. Delsin led him toward the living room, but not before exchanging a few quick words with Rei and Toga. With understanding nods, they began clearing the table, carefully setting the food aside for leftovers.
In the living room, Deku sat stiffly on the edge of a chair while Delsin moved with practiced ease. He handed his friend a juice box—simple, almost childlike in its casualness—before dropping onto the couch himself. A cold can of cola hissed as he cracked it open, the sound sharp in the quiet space. Tilting his head back, Delsin took a slow drink, green eyes fixed steadily on Deku over the rim of the can
Delsin: "Speak— and hurry up."
Deku: (stuttering) "P-please train me… you've always been the one to—" (gets interrupted)
Delsin: "Alright, I'll train you. And your first lesson—learn to keep your words to a minimum."
Deku: (smiles) "I won't fail you."
Delsin: "Good. Get ready tomorrow—it's the weekend. Meet me at the beach when you wake up." (waves him off) "Now scram."
After their brief meeting, Deku finally stood, bowed politely, and slipped his shoes back on before stepping out into the night. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the house in silence. Delsin exhaled heavily, the tension in his shoulders easing.
He made his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth methodically before changing into a set of dark clothes that clung comfortably to his frame. Grabbing a pen and scrap of paper, he scribbled a short note—going underground fighting—and left it where Rei and Toga would see. Moments later, the low rumble of his bike carried him into the night.
An hour later, the city lights had faded into the shadows of an abandoned industrial district. He parked, adjusted his mask into place, and stepped into the cavernous shell of a warehouse.
The stench of sweat, blood, and adrenaline filled the air. A sudden blur of motion forced him to duck as a limp body was hurled past, crashing into a pile of crates behind him. The crowd erupted in cheers, the air electric with violence.
At the center of the ring, a massive, muscular man stood preening, flexing his arms and soaking in the roar of the underground spectators. Delsin straightened, eyes narrowing behind the mask. The night had only just begun
Flexing man: "Who else dares to fight me—Flexing Man?!" (flexes)
Delsin stepped through the ropes and into the ring, his masked figure drawing only a fraction of the attention compared to the towering brute inside. The muscular man continued to gloat, veins bulging as he flexed for the roaring crowd, basking in their adoration.
Delsin didn't wait.
Heat surged through his arm, molten metal flowing and hardening into the exact shape of his clenched fist. The glow cast a harsh light across the ring as he lunged forward, no hesitation in his stride. His punch connected squarely with the flexing man's face, the impact reverberating like a thunderclap.
The crowd's cheers choked into silence as the fighter's massive frame launched backward, crashing out of the ring and slamming into the warehouse wall with a bone-jarring thud. Dust shook loose from the rafters.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. All eyes were locked on Delsin, standing steady in the ring, his molten fist still steaming. The arena, once filled with deafening noise, was now frozen in shock
Delsin: "So…" (looks at the crowd) "Who's next on the chopping block?"
Random woman: "…Let's beat him up!" (charges at Delsin)
And just like that, chaos erupted. The stunned silence of the crowd shattered into a furious roar as bodies surged forward, villains and fighters alike vaulting into the ring to swarm Delsin.
His molten fist shifted, metal shaping itself into a brutal set of brass knuckles lined with jagged spikes. With a hiss of steam, he cooled the metal to a solid sheen before driving his fist forward, slamming into the first opponent who dared rush him.
Another figure lunged from behind—a villain with grotesque mantis-like arms raised to strike. But Delsin didn't bother turning. From his back, molten metal shot outward and instantly solidified, tearing through his dark shirt as it expanded into a sharp slab of iron-hard plating. The impact crashed into the mantis villain's chest, the force knocking the air from his lungs. He staggered back, clutching his chest and wheezing in pain.
Delsin pivoted, the spikes on his brass knuckles elongating with a quick thought. He drove his fist into the next attacker, aiming to avoid lethal points—but he wasn't a doctor. Every strike was a gamble between survival and something far bloodier.
Suddenly, a heavy tackle slammed him to the ring floor. The world blurred in a mess of fists and snarls, but Delsin reacted instantly. From the spot where he'd been pinned, a molten spike erupted upward, cooling as it pierced into the assailant. The struggling weight atop him went limp in an instant, collapsing to the side as the crowd hesitated, realizing this wasn't just spectacle—this was survival
Delsin: "Damn… I was being merciful. Oh well — a villain's a villain; why should they deserve to live?" (chuckles darkly)
When Delsin pushed the limp body aside, he felt the cold air hit his face—his mask had slipped off in the scuffle. For a brief moment, he locked eyes with the crowd. They saw him. They knew his face now.
A low growl built in his chest. No loose ends.
By the time he was finished "cleaning up," the ring was silent, broken bodies scattered like discarded dolls. Without a word, Delsin slipped out of the warehouse, mounted his bike, and tore off into the night, the roar of the engine drowning out the echoes of chaos left behind.
An hour later, he was home. The first thing he did was strip away the ruined, bloodied clothing and toss it into flames of his own making, watching it curl into ash. He scrubbed the crimson stains from his skin, letting the hot water wash away the stench of battle until nothing remained but clean flesh and the faint hum of his quirk under his veins.
Finally, he stepped into the bedroom.
There, waiting for him, were Rei and Toga—both dressed in sleek, alluring playboy bunny suits that clung perfectly to their curves. Their eyes gleamed with mischief and desire.
Delsin's lips curled into a slow, hungry grin as he closed the door behind him, the night promising a very different kind of fight