Archive of Our Own

“Sorry we can’t do Halloween this year, guys” Izuku said. “I guess there’s next year.”

“There always is for Todoroki” Bakugou chuckled.

The three of them were sat around their table. Izuku and Bakugou had empty plates in front of them. Todoroki had nothing.

“It’s a shame, really. I was rather looking forward to it.” He said. “I had my costume planned and everything. I guess I should have checked the calendar.”

“There were posts about it everywhere in January, how did you miss them?” Izuku asked.

“How did you not remind me?” came the quick reply.

“Hey!” Bakugou interrupted. “I know tonight is going to be stressful, but it will be even worse if you two keep bickering at each other. Jesus, it’s like you’re already a married couple! Where am I in the equation?”

Todoroki leaned over to take his boyfriend’s hand. It felt warm to the touch.

“I’m sorry Katsuki. I know you’re stressed, but you’ve done this so many times before. How many is it now?”

“37. Over three years ago.”

“See? Tonight is no different to the first.” Todoroki leant over and pecked Bakugou on the cheek. He flinched.

“You’ll be fine. We’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

“No bodyguard better than Todoroki at night!” Izuku said happily.

“I guess.” Bakugou responded.

-----

“It’ll be ok.” Izuku looked up with wide, emerald eyes and took Bakugou’s hands to try and stop him wringing them. “Don’t be scared.”

They were standing with Todoroki in their basement corridor. It was dark and damp and cold. In front of them lay a large metal door, with three thick bolts spaced evenly down its length and reinforcing bars secured with rivets as thick as a thumb. The stairs up to the hallway cut into the corridor just behind them, and another similar metal door lay beyond.

“Why wouldn’t I be scared? Do you know what it’s like?” He looked down. “Deku, there is nothing to not be scared about. Just, check the locks. Please.”

“You know I will.” Izuku sighed. “Stay safe in there”

“It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

“Kaachan—”

“I know. I know. I’ll try my best. Try and get some sleep, Deku.”

“Oh, Izuku and I are going to stay up. Watch some horror movies.” Todoroki said.

“Good idea - the screaming won’t be so incongruous then.” He chuckled.

“Does the soundproofing not work?” Izuku asked, worried.

“It was a joke, Deku! Calm down, I’m starting to think you’re more on edge than I am.”

“I think I might be. I don’t know… I’ve got a bad feeling about tonight.”

Bakugou opened his arms and beckoned Izuku into a hug. Todoroki followed.

“Don’t worry about me. Go watch horror movies with your boyfriend.”

Izuku gasped slightly, as if offended. “But you’re my boyfriend too, Kaachan!”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They stayed embraced for a few moments. Izuku held on tighter than usual.

A sigh, and Todoroki withdrew. “It’s getting late.” He said, an air of melancholy stirring in his words.

“We should get going.”

He moved over to the door and began to open the bolts with three loud clunks. One gentle push and it swung open with a loud, piercing creak and a thud. Behind lay a large basement of concrete, the only furnishing being a single metal bench in the far corner.

Bakugou stepped inside and turned to face his boyfriends. “Well, see you guys in the morning.”

Izuku smiled weakly at him. “Yeah. See ya.”

Bakugou slammed the door shut.

-----

“So, horror movies?” Todoroki asked.

“Just a sec.” Izuku was still tracing the lines of the door with his fingertips. “I want to check the locks again.”

“You’ve already checked them twice. I think they’re secure.”

“I want to make sure he’s safe in there.”

“How is it any different to last time?”

“I don’t know. But I have a bad feeling about tonight. Better safe than sorry.”

“How about we go and watch the movies to take your mind off it?”

Izuku turned, his face drawn taught with worry. He hesitated.

“Can I… Can I stay here?”

“How will that help? Izuku, you’re better upstairs.”

“I know Todoroki, it’s just…” he trailed off. “I feel like I should be near him. Tonight is different. I know you can feel it.”

“It’s like this every Halloween for me, but I get what you mean. He will be safe in there though, I promise. And if he isn’t, you won’t be safe down here.”

“I know. I know. I’m overreacting. I just want to stay here. You don’t have to be with me if you don’t want to.”

“Don’t say that, of course I’ll stay with you. But let’s not be too long. Just until he’s gone, ok?”

“Fine. And then we can watch horror movies.”

“Deal.”

-----

Bakugou could hear faint mumblings slipping under the door and echoing through the room. His hands were shaky and fidgeting, his breath already slightly quickened. Though that may have just been stress.

A full moon was never a pleasant experience by any means, but there was a significant difference between the true process and whatever was shown on TV, be it a smooth, soundless transition from state-to-state or some fade to black. Reality was much less clean.

He felt it first in his fingers. They became tense, ached, and began to sag as they retracted inwards. The bone, with nowhere to go under mounting pressure, started to strain. The skin, once tight, was now covering a smaller and smaller surface area, and began to fold in on itself. However, the palm quickly took up the slack, extending into something that could bear load. This was much faster and more drastic that the fingers’ growth, and soon the skin was stretched taught again, then further until it broke.

Searing pain flashed out from Bakugou’s palm as his skin ripped open. Beneath it the tendons and muscle were clearly visible, hard at work straining at growing to form the new body. But before a single drop of blood could pool in the wound, it was healed, just in time for a another to creep open.

Meanwhile, the reforming of the metacarpals within the hand was ongoing, a process neither simple, nor quick, nor painless. A dull ache accompanied the scraping on bone-on-bone. If he were lucky then a nerve wouldn’t be caught in the mayhem.

Next was his back. The human back was one never quite designed for upright bipedal movement, but had adapted as best it could. This left some strange creases to be ironed out, including the complete reshaping of Bakugou’s shoulder blades to be flush with his shoulders and collarbone, the lengthening of the neck via the addition of multiple extra vertebrae, the relocation and alteration of the dorsal vertebrae, and the elongation of the tailbone. All of these began near simultaneously, shooting waves of pain up and down his spine. Thankfully, halfway through the process of vertebrae alteration in the neck, his spinal cord was severed and the pain stopped. Unfortunately, this rendered him temporarily paralysed, his body shifting against his will. All Bakugou could do now was watch.

His legs thinned and lengthened, his feet stretched, his muscles shifted from his chest to his neck. All this occurred under the skin’s surface, showing only a writhing and flexing, as if a family of parasites had burrowed into his body. Then, as the final pieces were fitting into place like a mad scientist’s jigsaw puzzle, his jaw shifted.

His teeth were jostling for positions inside his mouth, growing and sharpening into flesh that was slow to accommodate. Blood began to pool on his tongue, falling away as his hard palate grew forwards. His jaw followed suit, and now his teeth had too much room in his gums. This was the bit Bakugou hated the most; the simple fact wolves had more teeth than humans do.

The gaps became red and raw, and chunks of inflamed gum tore away as new teeth burrowed through. His skull enlarged, eyeballs squeezed, bright lights and darkness flashing across his vision. He could feel his skin again, tearing and moulding like clay, stretching to breaking point and healing to fill in the gaps. He could feel his tendons and ligaments scrape over each other as their anchor points drew patterns across his body. He could feel his organs squeeze and flow inside his chest.

His lungs had to push behind his stomach, his intestines falling forwards like mince from a grinder. It was enough to make him vomit, and he did, otherwise his stomach would have exploded from the pressure from his rapidly expanding lungs.

He clutched his face, still growing outwards into a whatever his body could be moulded into that best resembled a snout. The worst seemed to have passed, but what was left in the wake was an ever-present feeling of wrongness. As if everything was out of place, as if nothing about him was meant to be where it was. Barely lucid, mad with pain and sickness, he opened his mouth, and howled.

-----

Izuku was still sat on the floor, on the other side of the door to Bakugou. He had been tapping his foot to calm his nerves and distract him from the cracks and whimpers and countless other atrocities that snuck past the layers of foam, concrete, and metal.

Todoroki sat opposite, silent. He was having just as bad a time as Izuku, if not worse, but he did not show it. He had learned to keep his feelings mostly internal. He had been granted ample time to do so.

He looked up at Izuku, whose face was creased near to tears, and reached out to grab his hand. The gesture was interrupted suddenly, as a bellowing howl ripped through the air.

“We should get going.” He said.

Izuku didn’t respond, but instead looked down and chewed on his lip.

“Izuku, he’s safe in there. Come upstairs.”

“How do you know that?”

“What? That he’s safe?” his tone mellowed. “He’s been in there many times before, and not once has he come close to getting out. We’ve had this conversation before. Come upstairs, please.”

“And we know how it ends. I’m not moving. Why are you so against me staying here if it’s so safe?”

Todoroki was about to protest but knew how stubborn his boyfriend could be.

“Fine. I’ll go get some cushions then. Back soon.”

And so Izuku sat on the cold concrete floor, tapping his foot and tracing small patterns into the damp.

Beyond the door, he could hear panting. It moved around the room, sniffing the walls, as if searching for a scent to follow. It drew closer, growing louder, and when it reached the door, it stopped. It was the first moment of silence since the full moon had taken hold, and the air lay still. Izuku’s restlessness ceased, superseded by an intense dread that pooled like oil. The soundproofing had done well to deaden the noise from Bakugou’s room, he thought. Or maybe there wasn’t any more sound to muffle.

His heart grew cold, and he stood slowly. Reaching over to the cold metal of the door, he hesitated, then knocked three times. Three ringing clangs bounced off the walls.

Silence.

He waited for a few seconds, hoping for some kind of response. None came.

His hand was shaking as he again reached over to the door and gave it three more knocks.

This time, a response came.

Immediately it began to rattle and bang, something snarling as it crashed into the metal over and over. Izuku stumbled back as the hinges shook, his heavy breathing rising over the sound of howling and clattering and maddened snarling and banging and now dents were beginning to show between the reinforcement beams.

“Izuku, get back!” Todoroki’s voice called from the top of the stairs. Izuku was still backpedalling as Todoroki rushed down and planted himself between the boy and the door. One arm was splayed back, pushing Izuku away, the other driven forwards down the corridor. There they both stood, motionless, and the cacophony subsided. They were once again drenched in silence.

Moving towards the door, Todoroki placed his palm on the largest of the dents, as if he were stroking a dog.

“Bakugou?” He was calm, calmer than Izuku thought possible. “Are you in there?”

A scratching came in reply, a slow, tedious scrape of nail against stone. Todoroki didn’t react.

He could hear the padding of paws across the floor. It was languid, as if the thing were tired, or bored. Another sound, nail against metal. The noise was awful; high pitched and piercing.  

Todoroki listened again, and heard nothing but shallow panting. It had stopped just beyond the door.

“Izuku?” His voice was quiet and methodical. Some would call it calm, but Izuku heard the tension behind it. “I want you to turn around and walk to the safe room. Quietly, but quickly.”

He didn’t turn around, instead he stayed concentrating on the door. However, he did hear the light tap of Izuku’s footsteps as he made his way past the stairs, to the opposite end of the corridor.

“Open the door slowly.” His voice was now just above a whisper. “Don’t make any noise.”

Izuku gripped the handle with shaking hands and began to turn it as slowly as he could muster. His heart was racing, his head was spinning, but he focused on the task at hand. Degree by degree the handle turned, the entire process taking almost five minutes, and all the while Todoroki stood motionless, barely breathing. Finally, the handle stopped, and Izuku pulled hard.

The door swung open lazily, seeming to extrude from the wall until it was almost a foot thick. Izuku waited until there was a wide enough opening, then strained to stop the door from opening further. Then, he turned back to Todoroki.

“It’s open.” He whispered.

Todoroki seemed to sigh. He resolved himself, then made a final attempt at contact.

“Bakugou, if you’re in there, knock once.”

He stood still, growing more and more disheartened, until he finally turned to go. He looked up and gave a weak smile, before slowly, quietly, walking towards Izuku.

Until a single knock resonated through the air. He stopped.

Then another. And another, louder. Another, the dent in the door warped. Another, a crease formed in the metal. Another and the crease split into a crack.

“Izuku! Into the safe room! NOW!”

Todoroki began running away as the door clattered again. With a final triumphant bang, it flew off the hinges and into the side wall, and Izuku screamed.

Flashed of fur and skin as a gigantic creature barrelled towards the pair of them, lips drawn back into a snarl, dripping saliva. Izuku saw Todoroki pass him and began desperately pulling on the door to close it. It crept back inch by inch, all the while the thing that was Bakugou gained yards. It was 20 metres away, then 15, then 10, all the while the door between them creaked shut agonisingly slowly. There were only a few inches left when the creature made up the final distance and reached its giant claw out to Izuku. He watched it fly by his face as Todoroki swooped in and slammed the door shut, spinning the inner handle until it sealed with a clang, shaking as it took the full charge of the thing on the other side.

-----

“What do we do now?”

“We wait in here.” Todoroki was always flat and direct. Tonight, despite the circumstances, was no different.

“Todoroki, it’s now loose in the house! What the hell is going to happen if it gets outside? Todoroki, say something! We have to do something! How can you just sit there? How on earth are you so calm? He’s probably moving upstairs, so we can at least–”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said shut up.”

Todoroki was sitting completely still in the corner on the room. His head was bowed to his chest, his eyes focused on the ground. He looked up at Izuku for the first time since they had been sealed in. He looked pale.

“Todoroki, are you ok?”

His lips were shifting, as if he were rolling a sweet around his mouth. His tongue emerged to roll over his top teeth. It stopped hallway along.

“Izuku, I need you to go into the corner of the room.”

“What now? Are you seriously going outside alone?”

“Yes.” He answered flatly. “Now move to the corner.”

“Todoroki, do you have any kind of plan? If so, tell me.”

“Izuku, there isn’t any time−”

“Tell me!”

Todoroki twitched.

“Izuku, please. Corner. Now.”
His fingers were beginning to tense and fidget. He stood up, and made his way to the door, sidestepping to always face Izuku.

“Todoroki, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He tried to respond, but his speech caught in his throat. Instead, he redoubled his efforts towards the door, and once upon it, began to turn the handle.

“Todoroki!” Izuku shouted as he ran towards the door. Todoroki reacted quickly, and back peddled to the wall.

“Izuku,” he struggled to pronounce the words. “don’t come near me.”

A wave of realisation washed over Izuku like a cold tide. He looked down, and saw a small cut on his forearm, where the claw had just caught his flesh. It was slowly oozing blood.

Todoroki’s voice was slow, interrupted by deep, shaky breaths. “Corner.”

Izuku nodded, and backed away, until he felt two padded walls on his shoulders. Todoroki moved to the door methodically, breathing slowly with each step, as if he were trying to keep down a bout of nausea. His skin was near pure white, but thin like rice paper and stretched taught around his bones. His eyes were wide and staring, fixed on Deku’s right forearm. His mouth snapped, revealing two whitened gums filled with horrific teeth. Far from the romantic sharpened canines of pop culture, Todoroki’s teeth were now all thin and sharp as needles. His hair was somehow thinning, revealing a clean scalp so wan and taught as to appear non-existent, like the white of the skull was exposed.

He was still facing Izuku when his hand snaped back and caught the handle of the door again. It gripped tightly, and turned with such effort and struggle. His arm was obviously strong, but it was as though this strength was working against Todoroki, as if he were fighting his body to simply open the door.

Finally, the handle stopped. Izuku was sitting clutching his arm, trying desperately to stop the flow whilst never looking away from Todoroki. Todoroki himself was now pulling the door open with the speed and strength of a frail old man. His now thin, wiry frame completed the look, offset by the flat, wrinkle-less skin and wide, beady, staring eyes. His hand was twisted awkwardly behind him, but he could not look away from Izuku.

Inch by inch, the opening widened, and Todoroki squeezed himself an increment closer outside. His arm, twisted as it was toward the handle as he crept further and further behind it, took on such an acute angle he could no longer make progress. Seeing this, he let go which his hand, and with such speed that it blurred through the air, snapped in onto the other side of the door. It seemed he feared that his hand would become uncontrollable if left dangling in the air.

Still he stared, his face creasing in exertion. He had stopped changing by now. It had been subtle, but there was no longer any lengthening of his teeth forcing his mouth further open, nor hidden changes of biology under his skin that made it harder and harder for him to keep calm and still. He opened his mouth further, struggling to breathe, and his jaw snapped and he hissed. A hiss not just inhuman, but not animal either, something evil and alien that made Izuku shiver. Or maybe it was the blood loss.

He watched from across the room, too weak to protest, watched as the door grew wider and wider, and Todoroki pushed himself into the gap. The hinges were smooth, and made no sound as they turned. The only noise was Todoroki’s heavy breathing, hissing through his needle teeth.

He was almost halfway, his head the only point too wide to pass through the gap. His breathing quickened, and for the first time, the door stopped. The arm not pushing the door had previously been by his side, tense, the hand clawed, but now if was twisting and contorting backwards. His fingers reached out to scrape down the wall behind him. His eyes were wide with fear and pain.

Izuku stood up, woozy. His vision shifted, amplifying his movements. He stepped towards the door, and Todoroki snapped and snarled. Another step, and Todoroki’s fingers dug into the padding of the wall. He drew closer and closer still, and it was all Todoroki could do to remain where he was. Reaching out to the handle of the door, Izuku clutched it, and tugged once. He almost fell over, and used this to put his weight behind the pull. The door opened another centimetre, and Todoroki turned his head, finally looking away from Izuku and squeezing his body through the opening. He immediately began to snarl behind the door, shocking Izuku into reverse. He pushed against the door, leant on it with all his remaining strength, and it slotted into its frame with a clunk.

Izuku pressed his back against the cool metal, before his legs gave out and he sunk to the floor, handle turning a few degrees as one side was pulled with him. It was enough to engage a sliver of the bolts. He could worry about fully closing it later.

-----

Izuku woke up. He did not know how long he had been unconscious, but the pool of blood by his right arm was only small, so he thought it only to be a few minutes. He had been woken by a noise, a noise he had already heard that night, now in reverse. A screeching on nail on metal, piercing through the padded door.

It was joined by a growl. Low, reverberating, animal. Bakugou. He pressed his ear to the foam surface, hearing the slow padding of paws on the concrete, punctuated by scratches as the claws met the floor. And then, a snarl. Hissing, breathy, high pitched. Todoroki.

They were both just outside the door, waiting. It was unusual – they were both savage and unrestrained, it was odd for one to have not ripped the other to shreds by now. Perhaps there was still a vestige of humanity within them. More likely they saw it as strategically advantageous.

If their goals were not each other’s death, then they had things on their mind larger than senseless violence. And the only other thing that mattered to them was food. They were hungry.

The longer they failed to get to the choicest morsel of meat locked behind the door, the more likely they were to turn on each other. Whoever won in the encounter was determined almost entirely by who struck first. Giving in was, to a certain extent, advantageous. But then again, the winner would be drained and wounded from the encounter, and would find the loser a less than ideal fix for their appetite. Hair and sinew, or skin and bone. Neither were substantial.

And so they had reached an uneasy stalemate, at least as far as Izuku could make out from audio only. He was the prize they both sought, but they could not share him, and they may not be able to reach him at all. It was only by working together that the door could be breached, and only alone could the meal be enjoyed. A paradox, to be solved in blood.

The two of them seemed to be taking it in turns to search for a weak spot in the metal. The other was oddly silent as the searcher carried about their business, as though the two were competing. Each attempt was accompanied by scratching and tapping, either methodical or random and savage.

Tap tap tap.

Izuku was still lying by the door. He thought it best to move away, to the bench. If they did get through he would rather be able to escape, instead of being crushed by the door as it flew off its hinges.

Tap tap.

He summoned some of his remaining strength, and limped over to the bench. It wasn’t large, but it had been built with two in mind, so it was at least adequate. He sat and ran through the options available to him. This did not take long.

The room’s main purpose was protection. Two would hide against the one, and wait until daybreak, whereby the one would revert, and the aftermath could be dealt with. Therefore, it needed no secret exits or such; one could simply wait. Izuku did not have such luxury. Each attempt shortened tempers, and lengthened claws.

Tap tap tap.

The first option was the obvious – wait until sunrise and pray that the situation did not complicate during the passing hours. This was the default; until a better idea made itself known, Izuku would stay put.

Any other option involved opening the door.

Shit.

The door. It had only been half-secured before he passed out, and he did not think his unconscious self had had the decency nor dexterity to complete the job. Every degree of freedom the handle had was an opportunity. He had to close it.

His head swam as he stood. The normal rush of blood from the head was exacerbated by a portion of the available volume being pooled in a puddle on the floor. His vision faded to swirling static for a moment, and his body swayed. He managed to stay upright only through the manual firing of the muscles in his legs, as if he were control a limp string puppet. This effect faded as his vision returned, and he moved over to the door, not quite walking. His arm was leaking more blood, and he could feel it coursing like a stream across his bare skin. Close door, stop bleeding, plan actions.

He rested his shoulder against the padding of the door. The handle was level with his midsection, and he was almost bent over it. It seemed eternally awkward to use. He clasped the bottom of it, hand turned upwards, and pulled towards his body. His shoulder swivelled and shifted, his arm twisted into a complex linkage of bone and tendon. The handle slowly turned, until his posture could turn it no more. Now, he dropped, and keeping his hand clasped to the metal, pushed upwards to finish the rotation. The handle jolted into its locked position with a loud clunk, that almost drowned out the similar noise from outside.

Now on to task two. As he lurched back over to the bench, Izuku realised he had now grown accustomed to the sounds of scraping. Not to the point of blocking them out, but he now appreciated them only so far as they were background noise. He reached out to feel the wound on his arm. It had darkened, and the blood flow had slowed, but it was still oozing. Worse, the longer it was exposed the more likely it was to get infected. He didn’t want another reason to rue this night. 

His mind raced as he rifled through his knowledge for a course of action. A tourniquet wasn’t necessary unless other courses of action had been tried, so the first thing to do was apply pressure with something clean and soft. There wasn’t much at hand. Izuku had to take of his t-shirt and bundle it up, squeezing it against the wound. He had to admit it wasn’t all too clean, but it was the only thing he had. He immediately began to feel the cold. The kind of cold that can only come from being underground, as the earth sucks the warmth from a room. It mixed with his blood loss tremblings, to give him a constant background shaking, mixed in with wracking shudders.

Task three. This one was the hardest. Until now, he had been absorbed in the tasks at hand; they were not just life and death, but – however selfish it was – his life and death. Now he was not the one at stake. He could take all the time he wished, and emerge in the morning no more harmed than he was now. That was not true for those outside. Would he really ensure his own safety against that of his loved ones?

The only things he could do to help involved opening the door. Once that happened, he was on his own against the two… monsters. They were monsters now.

It would be a better situation if the opposite door still worked. It had flown off its hinges when the werewolf charged through it. It may have been an error to give it so much space.

If it was still useable then he could secure one of the creatures in one room, the other in another, and wait until morning. But then again, if that door was still useable he would not be in his current situation.

In essence, the problem could be distilled to the presence of three parties, none of which can be placed together, and only two locations. A wolf, goat, cabbage problem on steroids. The issue was not, then, how could everyone be saved, but who should be saved. Even the problem of who would survive a given situation was unclear, since either monster could kill the other. And this also assumed that the second door will hold.

On that note, why had it? The werewolf had a sufficient run up to overcome an identical door, and now it had the same run up plus the hallway. Why hadn’t it ripped the door open by now?

It was still tapping and banging, trying to find some purchase. That meant it still wanted to get it. So, it couldn’t do the brute force method. It wanted something easier. It was tired. And that meant it would lose.

The werewolf knew it was weakened. So it wouldn’t escalate. That meant it had the added disadvantage of being on defence. The vampire would strike first, seize the initiative, and the werewolf would die. Bakugou would die.

-----

The realisation flowed over him in waves as he sat. It pulsed, each time leaving more dread and fear and sorrow, until he was overcome. He waited and listened for what he knew was inevitable, counted the pauses in the scratchings as the two of them traded places in their strange game of strength and wits. He checked his watch. It was close to sunrise now. He must have passed out longer than he had thought.

The time between the pauses was growing shorter, and the volume and intensity of sound louder. There were hisses and growls of frustration. Izuku had nothing to do but stay still.

Another pause came, and he waited for the other to continue. He knew who was responsible for which now, and it was Baku- the werewolf next. He waited, but no scratches came. Instead, a snarl. It grew to a growl, and was accompanied eventually by a high pitched hissing and snapping of teeth. Dread filled Izuku’s mind.

The noises grew in intensity, snarling and howling and now the slashing of claws. A yelp of pain.

There are actions that are not taken through logic. Sometimes things are wrong; they will cause hurt or damage or otherwise adverse consequences, but they are performed anyway. There is something beyond the objective that seizes a person at certain moments, compels them beyond their judgement into acts of wrath, or hubris, or self-destruction. A force that is indescribable, yet in that moment so strong as to be palpable. An urgency of will and a compulsion of fervour.

It takes over, releases a person of thought before action. It is relief from consequence, it is liberation from the exhaustion of activity. It overtakes and overpowers, and one’s desires precede one’s wills.

Izuku stood, still clutching his bloody shirt to his arm. His walk had been eroded drop by drop, and was now a shuffling stumble, for he had no strength to lift his feet clear of the floor. Crossing the few metres of the room took an amount of exertion that should have near completely drained his energy, but he did not have to care for such things. He reached the door, and leaned his shoulder against it for a moment. Respite.

The impacts shook through his body, rousing him from his rest. One had thrown the other against the door. He took to the handle again, how many times now he did not know. Somehow, he turned it. He did not do it through conscious will, he simply watched as it span with his hand. It stopped with a clunk.

He moved aside, and fell against the wall. There he waited. Waited for them to notice.

Soon enough, among the clattering of violence came a great groan of exertion, and once again one of the creatures was slammed against the door. Except this time the door was not solid. It swung wide as the werewolf crashed through it, the vampire standing hunched and gasping in the hall. Blood was leaking from the werewolf’s limbs, neck, and mouth. There was blood on the vampire’s lips.

Izuku pressed himself into the corner as the werewolf stood up, and faltered. Its leg collapsed under its weight and it pivoted, its head crashing into the floor. There is lay, whimpering, as the vampire watched from the hallway. It wanted to make sure there was no competition.

Izuku was still in the corner. Wide eyed, he stared at the mass of matted hair and clotted blood. He saw its paw begin to lengthen.

Its silhouette shifted as the bones within its slumped form cracked and changed. The hair withdrew, revealing wide gashes in pale skin. The muscles were shrinking, the face shortened into something human-like and abhorrent. Still the vampire waited in the hallway.

It groaned, the thing that was soon to be Bakugou. A deep, throaty groan that cracked halfway through as the vocal chords shortened and gained complexity. It was the first time Izuku had seen the transformation. He had guessed its gruesome nature from the sounds he had heard many a night; the cracks, the screams. But seeing it in front of him, the skin shifting like wind-blown dunes, the tendons and muscles and sinew all moving into place like a living, bleeding puzzle box.

Still the vampire stalked the hall. Hissing, waiting, pacing up and down in a limping, asymmetrical gait. It stared intently at the growing pools of blood around the halfway human thing. The blood was pushed around the floor by sagging folds of skin, that promptly shrunk back tight to the skeleton with a dripping sheen of red.

Movement. The werewolf looked up, grimaced in pain, and in its face Izuku saw a crude image of Bakugou. He ran over as the werewolf tried again to stand, its leg again buckling, gushing a pulse of blood as it fell back down.

The vampire saw Izuku. It threw its head back, and drew its lips back across its long teeth, revealing them in their full extension; as long as a man’s finger and as thin as a leather needle. Its hands tensed into claws.

Izuku pulled himself into the werewolf’s changing skin, still soft with the remains of fur. It groaned and growled in pain. The vampire had locked its gaze on Izuku; its meal, its prize. The werewolf opened its eyes, and saw the vampire, poised for a swift attack. It rose onto its paws that were hands, slowly, minimising weight on its injured leg. The leg protested by opening the wound, squeezing out blood in a stream. The werewolf bared its teeth, that were now all shaped as a human’s. The vampire drew back, then ran forward, a headlong assault without fear. It was efficient, hungry, impatient. And as came forward, the werewolf lifted what remained of its claw, and slashed it across the Vampire’s waiting throat.

-----

The vampire staggered back, clawing at its neck. It did not bleed, the wound instead opened out like plasticine, tearing as the vampire attempted to fix it shut. The skin ripped off in great sheets of white flesh. Falling forwards, the vampire prepared for one last assault; to gain blood to stem the bloodless wound. It faltered and fell forward, and the werewolf’s claw drove down into its back and through its heart. Todoroki evaporated with an ear splitting hiss, and a spray of grey dust.

The werewolf’s form changed and changed, and it collapsed as a final bout of cracks wracked its body. Finally, naked and pale in the pool of its own blood, lay Bakugou. Izuku was beside him, hand still clutching his red-soaked shirt to his arm.

Bakugou could do nothing but lift his head, as his reshaped, reopened wounds poured blood. He looked into Izuku’s eyes, and his were red, deep and sparkling with droplets of light. His mouth opened a sliver, and a breath came out, shaped by strained vocal chords into a gasping wheeze. Another, this time more drastically formed. His lips curled into a smirk, as a single, smug chuckle echoed through the room.

And then his head fell to the floor, and his eyes grew dark, and Izuku was alone.