Chapter Text
Enji Todoroki sits in his hospital bed, staring out the window, eyes unfocused and sparks drifting from his hair.
He curls his hands into the sheets, grips them until his knuckles turn white.
“I’m sorry Shoto” he whispers to no one, hands curling and sparks drifting from his hair, “I should have done more. I could have protected you more.”
Enji Todoroki silently weeps in his hospital room, not knowing what he can do anymore.
Himiko Toga hates blood.
She doesn’t like the way is comes out of people, the red liquid spilling out of wounds and holes in their bodies.
Himiko Toga doesn’t like her quirk.
Her quirk needs blood, and she doesn’t like blood, so she almost never uses it. She doesn’t like blood. To transform, she needs to ingest blood. She doesn’t like blood.
So, what if she freezes when she cut’s her finger by accident? So, what?
Dabi wishes he could have done more.
He ran away from home, because his mother was unbearable and his father was in the hospital for reasons unknown, and here he was, running with a rebel/hero group who call themselves “The League of Heroes”. Or some shit like that.
He enjoys being a hero, honestly, but just…there’s this part of him, a very small part of him that wishes that he got his younger brother out before their mother tipped over the edge.
All for One sits in his chair, hands folded as he remembers regret piled on betrayal piled of death.
There’s been an everlasting cycle of villains that come and try to kill him and all he does is look sadly at them and offer salvation.
None of them accept. None of them live after that.
Shigaraki Tomura dissolves cement piece after cement piece, trying to reach for the kid trapped under the rubble. Compress is next to him, large numbers of marbles sitting in a pile next to the entertainer-turned-hero.
The kid’s voice has gone quieter, and Shigaraki goes faster, tries to destroy the rubble before the kid dies.
And he prays requests begs, to whatever gods that haven’t lost their faith in humanity yet, that he gets there in time.
Kurogiri tends to his bar, washing cups and cleaning the countertops.
It’s a peaceful life, and he doesn’t think much of it. He’ll help with the League of Heroes’ escapes, but from that, he’ll rather tend to his bar.
Stain watches the world from his perch, sword sitting next to him, legs hanging on the edge.
What are true villains? True heroes? False villains? False heroes?
Just empty words piled onto empty words. He lives in a disgusting world, but what can he do?
So, he sits on his roof top, legs hanging over the edge, watching the sun rise on a desolate city full of people who kill and lie and steal whatever they can to survive.
He tries to not think about how the world is slowly falling apart.
“Mustard” stays in school and studies for his midterms.
He’s got too, or the League of Heroes will never let him join.
In this world, Heroes are villains, Villains are heroes.
In this world, Heroes just try to make the world better. They just try to help as many people survive until One for All is stopped for good.
It’s just a cycle of betrayal and death and pain after that.