Chapter Text
People never consider the harm caused to others.
Not the people watching it happen, nor the people who are causing it in the first place. They have a naturally callous reaction to tragedy. The person on the receiving end must have deserved it in some way, or there’s nothing that can be done to rectify the causes. People go about their daily lives without thinking that they might one day be the one on the sharp end of things.
Like bad weather – people using their quirks for ill was just something you grew to accept. In response society adapted. When everyone had the potential to cause serious mass harm to others, you needed a response that was fast, proportional and effective. Society became enamoured with heroes, people who had trained their bodies and abilities into peak condition to fight back against those criminals.
I was one of those people. Mieru Miura: student, slacker and wannabe hero.
“Don’t move, don’t talk – and everything will work out for you.”
I swung my legs, kicking and writhing as his hold around my neck tightened; “Let go of me you fuckin’ bastard!”
He quirked his sunken brow with a chuckle, “Huh, a country kid? Don’t your folks know better than to let a bumpkin like you wander around the big city?”
I had been going about my normal business when some asshole had caught me by the back of my school blazer, dragging me away into some rank hideaway so he could use me to leverage something from the police. The reaction was quick. The half-built building he had tucked us away inside of was already surrounded on all sides by heroes from the local agencies.
“Stop struggling, kid, or I’ll finish you off for good!”
“You don’t have the balls!”
I felt my feet leave the floor as he pulled back on my chest and neck, throwing me over his shoulder and onto the ground with a heavy thud. The air left my lungs as he seized upon me and planted his larger body against me. There was nothing I could do but make noise. My quirk was useless for this kind of situation.
“Stay still!” The only thing I could see was the bare wall that rested to our left. He kept my head and neck still so that I couldn’t move. “I want a ride outta’ this dump! You hear me?” he yelled through the hollow building.
If he was expecting cooperation from the surrounding responders, he could think again. Before he could even air his full demands a coloured blur shot through the space and tackled him off of my body. I scrambled back to my feet and made a run for cover behind one of the stripped iron beams that supported the roof above.
“I’m going to kill you!” he cried in protest, “Both of you are dead meat!”
I peered around the edge and saw him struggling with the costumed crusader who had saved my ass moments before. His eyes were wide and feral, a murderous froth spilling from his lips and onto the dusty concrete. His eyes met mine for a brief second – and I felt a chill run through my entire being. He reached out with his left hand and pointed at me.
I didn’t realise what he was trying to do until I felt something coiling around my legs. I looked down to find a black, ink-like puddle growing under my feet. Long tendrils ran up along my body and constricted my limbs. The hero grappling with him turned to me with shock on his features. He had screwed up big time, and I was the one going to be paying the price.
I tried my hardest to keep myself above the water line as I was slowly dragged deeper and deeper into the pool, but it was a hopeless endeavour. My mouth was filled with sludge, and the encroaching tar soon covered my nose and eyes as well. I could feel myself drowning, being robbed of the precious air that I needed to live. It felt like I was trapped inside for a very long time.
But then, all at once, I was released back out into the world.
My half-unconscious body plummeted down onto something soft, and then I was out like a light…