Chapter Text
Musutafu was not proud of its dumpster beach.
Once upon a time, the ocean was visible from the side wall bordering the sandy floor, the vibrant blue sky effortlessly casting down upon those who bathed in the sun’s vibrant rays. Without the trash, one would be able to smell the fresh scent of salt from the waters, the chilly breeze against their skin, and the grainy sand clinging to under their feet.
But now, it was repulsive. The once beautiful scenery was replaced with piles and piles of trash. People strayed from the beach's presence, the view was horrid and the smell even more so. No one knew what exactly was causing it to smell so rotten, but it usually drove away those who lingered away.
It was a mystery why nobody did anything about the garbage piling up on the sand when it first started to get out of hand. Why did people sit back and watch the trash pile up? Who gave those the right to dump their waste on to such a pristine environment? This was shameful to Musutafu, and those who live in it. To willingly let people ruin such a place, it was disgusting.
Shame.
Shame on them.
Why must they treat things- no, not just things, people too like garbage?
He just couldn’t understand it. For those people that just sit back and watch when they could be doing something beneficial. Does compassion not exist anymore? Why rely on heroes when you could be doing something just as beneficial as them. One doesn’t need to risk their lives to save others, just something that would be better for the sake of others.
It was all so stupid. Nothing made sense.
Such as the main dilemma on his mind, how was he alive?
He swore he died. The memory was blurry, but he does remember something fatal being inflicted onto him. Well, he remembered the pain that came with it, that was the most vivid thing that he recalled. Hell, his legs were still sore as he sat upon a washing machine, even though they were…different. Fuck it, he couldn’t even recognize himself when he looked at his reflection in a shattered mirror.
It was stifling when he had first seen his new face, especially since, he was supposed to be Midoriya Izuku, the green haired quirkless boy that desired to be a great hero one day, like his idol All Might. But instead he was…something that could barely be called human.
He had always begged for a quirk, that one day that he would miraculously gain something that was not supposed to be. But never in a million years would he expect… whatever this was. His limbs were different, too skinny, too abnormal. Each finger was spikey, bone thin appendages that resembled claws. And his skin- it wasn’t the usual tan color he possessed, but instead a deep charcoal black that splitted itself into segmented pieces at the joints.
His legs ended into slender points, lacking feet yet still able to stand. His chest was coated in weird flexible plates and a robe of fine strands draped over his shoulders layers, just above his wrists and down to his feet. Though his face, it was the most notable difference compared to the rest- the most eye-catching of them all. It was a starch white, with two wide ebony pits for eye holes, and a mouth that had fangs sprouting from the bottom of his top lip. Horns swept from the back of his head, going into wide arches that made him look like something straight out of hell.
It was so- wrong . All of it was wrong. This wasn’t him- he wasn’t looking at Midoriya Izuku, but someone- no, something foreign. Whatever this was isn’t the young man he remembers seeing in a more furnished, clean mirror in a warm and comfortable home, but instead, a monster straight from the night. The thing children would swear seeing under their beds at night.
He looked like a Nightmare.
Oh…
Oh!
This- This had to be another Nightmare, one that his mind hasn’t made to torment him yet. Just another way to make him panic. There- There has to be a reason right?
Confusion had riddled his thoughts, it just didn’t compute. His memory was in a haze, like a fog had wafted into his mind. Even now he couldn’t recall what happened, but he sure did remember pain that came, the burning fire and the stench of smoke entering his nostrils. He could taste blood in his mouth, and the ache where his shoulder was.
That was real, reality was often more intense than in dream. His nightmares were much more twisted than whatever it is he’s been through, however, what other way would explain this transformation? The inhume features and amnesia?
He needed to remember, for God's sake! Why the hell was he here? How did he get here?
What happened?
THE PAST…
Izuku hated his nightmares.
When one thinks of nightmares, they’d usually think of something unfortunate such as falling, or being pursued by an unknown figure in the safety of your own home. However, when you would Izuku, he would tell you that they were filled with horrors, monsters that were not blanketed in the dark and instead having their grotesque faces in full. They have claws and teeth that could easily rip flesh into shreds, and a voice so damaged that hearing that laugh sounded like a nails on a chalkboard.
He hated the rush of panic he always gets when waking up, either in the dead of night, or a room filled with merciless teenagers that pick him apart for every time he so much as blinked. He disliked the ridicule he would receive in the day, but it was made so much worse by the dreams that plagued his mind during the night. Offhand comments turned into things that would claw and scratch at his back, giggling with sadistic glee as their spindly fingers raked through his bare tender skin.
While the insults were a little affair, it was those who absolutely despised his presence that made his night terrors that much more frightening. They were always bigger than they were in reality, towering over him in a way that made him feel like the mere pebble they say he is. And there was nothing he could do to defend himself within the dream, all the monsters and other creatures lurking within the dark spots in his mind would all get him eventually, no matter how fast or far he would run. He would hear the shuttering laughs they would emit as they catch him, remember their twisted smiling faces that would always make his heart race.
He would always remember that any and all noise was bad- don’t make a sound or they will catch you. They can hear you- sniff you out like a hound. They know- they know- just waiting to catch you off guard. They wanted to revel in your fear, they are watching .
And right now, he was being watched.
He doesn’t know where, or who, but he knows it is by something dangerous- it was always by something dangerous. He couldn’t linger in one place for too long, or else they were going to find him and do god knows what to him. Izuku can only imagine who could be chasing him this time since last he was here, he was running from tiny creatures that vaguely resembled his peers. Small, just like their insults and jeers, yet they still stab and nook him with every word they utter, just like in the Nightmare.
Izuku observed the small classroom he was in, eyeing all possible escape routes out of this dreary place. There was the door, but that was noisy, not to mention big for his current stature. A vent was also an option, however they were usually hard to open, as well as being placed up higher where he usually couldn’t reach. That leaves the window, something that he could actually reach and was fortunately already open. He needs not to worry about the fall, as all the windows in this demented version of his school are connected with one another, and by the looks of it, this one in particular leads into a hallway.
That wasn’t good. When there was a hallway, that usually meant a chase, either him ending up getting caught or trapped in another classroom- where the same cycle would repeat. Anomalies would happen, and depending on who or what was pursuing him, things would change.
The question was, who was going to chase him this time around?
Izuku dropped down onto the dirty tiling, a vibration traveling up his bones as his shoes collided with the floor. His joints cracked for a moment before he stood on both legs. The first he noticed was how dark the room was, and unwilling, he fished a light from out of his pockets with sweaty fingers. The metal casing was blocky, but it was all he had for a source of light, so like hell he wasn’t going to use it.
He flicked on the lighter…
The first thing he sees is blood red irises.
The rest is a blur.
As soon as he made eye contact with the beast in front of him, he immediately whirled around into a sprint, pushing his little legs till they went numb with exhaustion. There was no time to hesitate or freeze in fear in a place like this. It was do or die, and Izuku had perished too many times to not acknowledge this lesson the thousands of times he's been trapped here. However, despite being quirk on his feet and gaining a head start on the monster, he knows his efforts are all futile. Especially since he has known this person since he was just a child still hugging his mothers legs.
This thing, this person was his main tormenter for the past near decade he had known him for. Izuku can recognize the human traits this monster carried, the blonde hues, the red eyes, and the oh so familiar popping of explosions just beside his ears. He could say that this creature was his mind's version of Katsuki Bakugou, only that- It was him and yet not at the same time. As if looking through a demented mirror that showed horror instead of a person.
Katsuki did not have claws, this manic bloodlust, nor was so towering that he had to hunch to not hit the ceiling of the school's hallways. He didn’t have gouged out eyes with dried blood leaking from the sockets, nor had a smile so wide that it would be considered something inhuman. You could tell when the blonde was near, with his abrasive and loud personality, but with one, he was silent.
This was Bakugou, yet not at the same time.
This was his version of who he saw the teen as. Towering, terrifying, and so powerful that he was worlds above him.
And it shows, Katuski was right on his tail, only centimeters away from grasping him and blowing him into chunks of meat. Izuku could feel the heat behind him, burning the ends of his hair and charring his school uniform. However Izuku didn’t let up, continuing to push his bones to the breaking point, ignoring the pain in his lungs and shrapnel stabbing into his back.
However, it was an inevitable death by this monster, and Izuku knew this well. A final, cruel similarity between this Bakugou, and this thing, was that no matter how hard he tried, how hard he pushed his body to its limits.
He would always catch up…
Izuku startles awake, spine snapping up as he sits in a pool of his own sweat. His breathing was erratic and his heart was in his ears, booming with every crash against them. Thick tears began to travel down his freckled cheeks while his body shook violently with unyielding force. It was as if a gust of strong wind had infiltrated his room and was now assaulting him with its frost.
However after a few minutes of trying to calm himself down, relentlessly reminding himself that it was just a nightmare, and no one was here to hurt him, his breath finally got back under control and his shaking simmered to a halt.
Silence over took the room for a moment, bleeding into the air and making Izuku more uncomfortable by the second. Eventually, Izuku reaches out an arm to check his All Might themed clock on his night stand.
In bright red, digitized numbers it read, ‘3:07 am’
And like that Izuku deflated, air leaving his body all at once as slouches against his headboard.
It was another nightmare. Another fucking nightmare.
He doesn’t know why he has suddenly been getting those dreams, but for the past few months he's had them, his life has been more miserable than it already was. In the first couple years of being alive, it was like dancing rainbows and swimming in clear springs. But that day, that damned fateful day in which that doctor had diagnosed him with a disease so cursed, that people who knew would stray from him.
And that being, he was quirkless, a null, a dusty relic from the past. He was born without power, being weak and frail against those who were blessed with quirks. He is something to be pitied, disgusted by, cruel too. His presence was non-existent amongst those with something to show for themselves, an ability to establish them.
With this apparent weakness, it was as if a target was placed on his back. Izuku was of course the perfect test dummy for any child who wanted to display their quirk to their peers. What was he gonna do about it anyways? Tell a teacher? Fight back? He was actively discriminated against by the teachers and his skinny frame didn’t allow any strength to fight back with.
Which is why he dreams. Dreams of something more, of what he can be if he just had a quirk. Dreams were his escape from reality, the thing that picks him up when he’s down, what holds his aspirations in a tight vice like grip. They whispered to him that this is what he could be, what he would become if he hopes. He just had to believe that one day, he would be blessed with the chance that he’d become a hero, just like his idol. But of course, the universe has seen him withstanding all the suffering long enough, and had stripped away the only crutch that kept him standing.
That's when the Nightmares came, nearly half a year ago. They were so vivid, with him being able to feel the pressure of his own steps and the smell of the dastardly scent of the halls he’s been placed in. He was lucid, he knew he was dreaming, and endlessly he would wonder why he was here, why he was subjected to this torment in sleep. Except, this was worse, much worse than reality. These uncanny monsters would come after him, every night without rest. Either faceless or bearing a massive smile filled with razors that would tear him to shreds in an instant.
The effects were obvious after the first week of this torture, bruises rested uncomfortably under his eyes while his usually nervous and bubbly self was instead replaced with something tired and sorrowful. He looked even more pitiful than before, almost like a zombie still somehow fighting to stay on its feet.
Of course people took advantage of this, tripping him in the hallways, pushing him into lockers, but at some point, it just stopped. Izuku doesn’t know why they did, but he assumed that it must’ve looked so pitiful that people just stopped trying to harass him. He no longer gave the same reaction as he did after the first couple weeks this occurred. There was no more blabbering or even appearing to be flustered, but just cruel acceptance.
Izuku stopped the scalding hot water of the shower, reaching out the curtain for his towel and dried himself without much fanfare. He stepped out of the tub, and locked eyes with himself in the mirror.
He looked so different…
His eyes were that of a corpse, dead with no light reaching them, just pits of veridian. Dark rings surrounded his eyes while his overgrown bangs shielded them from any visibility from the outside. He looked rough, his hair a bush on the top of his head, even more untamable than before. And his complexion wasn’t helping either, with it being less tan and more pale than before. In other words, he looked like a street raccoon that just rummaged through trash from a dumpster.
Izuku breathed out of his nose, continuing to dry off and start another day.
This was going to be hell fun.