"To stand at the peak, one must abandon weakness."
______
It was a dark sight.
The blood coated both the wall as the floor. A tall guy stands over two bodies that seemed to be both of his parents. The room during which he watched TV shows about heroes like All Might with his parents, ended up gradually turning into an interment for him.
The man's eyes remained purple, deep, and darkened, with yellow lines around the pupils that resembled twisted flower petals. They had their sights on (Y/N)'s grey eyes.
Thump. Thump.
The sound wasn't loud, just there, like a heartbeat he suddenly realized wasn't his own. As the man stepped forward, his silhouette sharpened, as if reality itself flickered for a second. A blur shuttered in front of him, distorted, violent, wrong.
Before he could even widen his eyes, the man was already there. Right in front of him.
Cold fingers clamped over (Y/N)'s mouth, iron-strong, cutting off breath and sound in the same instant.
His grin carved itself into his memory, sharp, mocking, unforgettably cruel. A smile that promised violence for no reason at all.
Then came a scream bursting past the grip,
"AHHHHHHH!!"
A raw, tearing cry that didn't even feel like it came from the young boy's mouth, but from the fear slamming into his chest.
The world tilted. The pressure on his jaw increased. And the grin grew wider.
Ĩ̵̧̡̧̡̛̺̘̬͔͙̫̺͕̫̥̲̰̗̯̖̦͈̓͌͐̏̈͒̐̀̍͊͆̑̚͜͝ͅT̸̢̡̛͈͇̰̱̝̯̻̬̀́̏̀̀̐̈́̂̀̋̊͛̿̀̿͗̽̆̌̄̏̀̆̎͘̚̚͘͠͠ͅͅ ̵̧̧̡͙̗͚̭̤̘̪͚̥̩̏͆́̉̀̊͊͛͋̔͌̉͠H̸̢̛͈̯̻̪̤͙̞͓͙͇̦̣̫̹̮̲̟̤̗̘͙̝̜͍̬̭͓͎̭̆̌͐̔̇̏̇́̈́̏̆͂̆̓̇̈́̉͐̉̅̀̊̀̆̚͝ͅǗ̸̲̂̌̏̉̿̌̑̌̋̑̎̓̚͝Ŕ̵̢̥̝̯̹̺̳͔͕̹̥̊̓̂̾̈́̓͒̉̽̎̈͒̈́̕̚̚͝T̶̛͕̬̥̼̤̟̳̠̩̝͖̦͎̦̰͓͈͕͛͋̃̍̄͆̆͋̎͊͘̚͜Ş̴̢̛̦̣̼̥̪̭̟̞̩̱̜̻͚͍̌̊̋̈́͗̎̽̓͆́͊̆̏̊͌͋̓̈͗͆͜͝͝
______
Present, Kayama Residence - Saitama Prefecture, Japan
(Y/N) jolted awake.
His heart slammed against his ribs, thump, thump, thump, not unlike the nightmare's echo. His breath came out in short, uneven bursts, sweat gathering at his temples as his eyes darted around the dim room. It took a moment for reality to settle in, for him to remember that he was no longer that terrified child cornered by a monster.
But the memory refused to fade. He could still see them.
Those eyes, empty, hollow, and vicious, staring at him with the kind of cold delight that only a true villain could have. Someone who hurt simply because he wanted to. Someone who toyed with him because he could.
A shiver crawled up his spine.
"Oh, it's just a dream," he muttered softly, though the lie felt thin.
He forced himself to sit up, to breathe, to move. Anything to push the memory back down where he had buried it years ago. He checked the time and found out it was still 9:30AM.
He swung his legs off the bed. One step. Then another. He grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom. The hot water pouring over his skin did little to relax him, but at least it grounded him in the present.
Minutes passed, slow, steady, until he finally shut off the shower and stepped out, water dripping down his shoulders.
He walked to the sink, leaning heavily onto his palms. He splashed cold water onto his face, once, twice, again, hoping the shock would clear the lingering dread.
But when he lifted his eyes to the mirror, everything inside him stilled.
There it was. The large scar carving across the left side of his face and down his neck. Jagged, uneven, ugly in a way that no doctor could ever fix. A permanent reminder of the day he was too weak to protect himself and his dear family
A reminder of the day he lost everything. His family. His childhood. His old life.
He stared at it for a long moment, jaw tightening. The bathroom hummed with silence, but inside, his chest felt heavy.
He reached up and traced the scar lightly with his fingertips, before staring into the mirror. His grey eyes, blinkering into a light blue. A trail of soldified darkness emitting itself from his body.
"I'll kill you, bastard. For giving me this large scar."
His voice deepened.
"And for killing my family."
A horrifying, cruel grin appeared on his face. An expression not even normal teenagers or aspiring heroes to make.
And for a moment, the monster's grin flashed behind his eyes.
Then a voice could be heard from downstairs.
"(Y/N)! It's time for breakfast!" It was his adopted mother, Nemuri Kayama, also known as the Pro Hero: Midnight.
"I'm coming," he replied, turning from the mirror and heading out of the bathroom.
____
(Y/N)'s P.O.V
After changing into proper clothing, I immediately walked downstairs to eat some breakfast. The smell of eggs and miso soup drifted through the kitchen, guiding me toward the dinner table where everything was set for the breakfast.
I was then met by an extraordinary sight, the sight of my own adopted mother wearing an oversized, loose-knit sweater that hung down to her thighs like a long shirt. She also had simple slippers on her feet.
I blinked, forcing myself to refocus before walking to the table.
"I thought you had classes in U.A this morning?"
"Well, I decided to take a break. It's been a while, anyway," she answered, stretching her arms lazily before letting her sleeves fall back over her hands.
I sat there for a moment, unsure how to respond, so I focused on my breakfast instead. The warm food helped calm the last traces of lingering dread. She quietly took her seat across from me, propping her chin on her hand as she watched me eat with that relaxed, motherly half-smile she only ever showed at home.
After living with her for years, I'd gotten used to it, the silence, the calm mornings, the way she always seemed oddly at ease around me despite everything she knew.
Being homeschooled under her watch had also become normal, even if it meant I spent more time indoors training than most teenagers my age.
She tapped her fingers lightly on the edge of the table.
"Hey," she said, her voice casual but carrying that unmistakable motherly tone, "the U.A. entrance exam is coming up soon. If you want, I can recommend you."
I paused mid-bite. Her words hung in the air.
U.A. The best school for any aspiring hero. But I had never seriously considered it. Not when all I'd ever chased was raw power... and revenge.
I'd trained on my own long before Midnight adopted me, back when I was still being passed from one foster home to another, clinging to the only thing I could control: my strength. Back then, being a hero was everything I dreamed of. The kind of dream kids have before the world shows them its teeth.
After she took me in, the training didn't stop. It only became more harder. Midnight didn't go easy on me, not even once. She taught me how to fight, how to think strategically, how to survive. And I thought that would be enough.
She looked at me knowingly, her smile soft but her eyes searching.
"No pressure. You'll decide when you're ready."
I let out a quiet breath, staring down at my plate.
"...I'll think about it."
...
After breakfast, I spent the day training, letting my body and mind push past every limit. Later, I wandered through the streets I had been forced to call home.
Revenge. The thought lingered like smoke in my chest, curling into every motion, every breath.
Eventually, I found myself in a quiet park. Laughter rang out from children chasing one another, their joy raw and unburdened. Something stirred within me, an ache I hadn't realized I still carried.
Was it envy? Or the simple longing for a childhood I never had?
I stopped, letting the breeze brush past me, memories rising unbidden. Faces, sounds, small moments before everything shattered.
Among them, one figure appeared, vivid and clear, a tomboyish young girl with orange hair, her eyes as teal as the leaves.
My chest tightened as I gasped softly. I tilted my face toward the sky, letting the wind pass me.
"Childhood, huh... I wonder how she's doing."
A sudden noise snapped me out of my thoughts, echoing from a nearby back alley. Curiosity tugged at me, and I found myself heading toward it without hesitating.
I caught sight of a villain cornering a kid, yanking a wallet from his hands while pressing a gun to the boy's forehead. The moment his eyes met mine, a twisted sneer turned into sudden panic. He bolted, sprinting deeper into the alley.
"Where do you think you're going?"
My voice cut through the narrow walls, low and sharp.
Darkness rippled at my feet. In an instant, several umbral spikes burst from the ground, spearing upward with lethal precision. They tore through the villain's legs and side before vanishing just as quickly, leaving no trace but raw agony.
He stumbled mid-stride, collapsing face-first onto the pavement with a broken scream.
"Not so tough now, are we, villain?" I murmured, pressing my foot against the side of his head, pinning him to the concrete.
A slow, twisted, cruel grin pulled at my lips, sharp, and far too similar to the one burned into my soul. Darkness itself was producing all over my body, as my grey eyes turned light blue when I began using my quirk.
"Do you know someone with eyes that has ring of petal-like yellow markings?"
"I don't know what you're talking!" The villain yelled, screeching.
"Are you lying?" I asked, my voice dropping lower as I leaned in, pressing my foot down harder. His scream sharpened, echoing off the alley walls.
"No! I swear, I don't know anyone with eyes like that! Please, don't kill me! I'll do anything!"
I let out a quiet sigh, more disappointed than surprised. So he really didn't know anything.
"I see."
I drew my arm back, fingers spreading as an executioner-style broadsword formed in my grasp using 'Hell', its weight settling naturally into my hand. One clean swing was all it took, the blade came down, and the alley fell silent.
I dismissed the weapon and stepped toward the kid, who stood frozen, eyes wide after witnessing everything.
I crouched to his level, pressing a finger lightly to my lips. A twisted grin curled across my face.
"Keep this to yourself, alright?"
The kid nodded as I made my way out of the backalley with my hands inside my pockets. I remembered Midnight's words.
"the U.A. entrance exam is coming up soon. If you want, I can recommend you."
The grin lingered, sharp and unyielding. U.A. wouldn't just be a school, it would be the first step, a ladder to strength, to power, and to avenge.
"I know what I have to do now."
___
Third Person's P.O.V
(Y/N) stood before the towering gates of U.A. High. The morning breeze tugged lightly at his coat as he took in the sight of the massive campus.
He had turned down Midnight's recommendation in the end, choosing instead to enter the same way everyone else did. A harder path, maybe, but one that fit him better.
His eyes drifted upward to the skyscraper-like main building before shifting to the flow of examinees passing by. Some were trembling with nerves, others buzzing with excitement, a few looking like they were trying not to overthink themselves into a breakdown.
With a quiet exhale, he started toward the auditorium, his 183cm frame standing noticeably taller than most of the crowd. A handful of students glanced his way, some curious, some wary, but he paid no attention.
A few students stared openly, not at his height this time, but at the large scar on the left side of his face and neck. Their reactions ranged from curiosity to discomfort, yet he didn't spare them a second thought.
He had bigger things on his mind.
(Y/N) felt a flicker of excitement as the practical exam drew closer. This was the part he'd been waiting for, the one place where his quirk and every year of grinding, relentless training could finally be put to the test.
He wanted to see how far he'd come, how sharp he'd become since the days he'd first started teaching himself to survive, since the days he was adopted by Midnight and get trained by her as well.
"Just watch, you bastard. Once I get strong, I'll find you and put an end to you."