Chapter Text
He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't.
But he needs it, needs the pain and comfort that comes from the blade slicing across his wrists, his arms, his thighs.
The red blood drips on the tile, and Izuku smiles shakily with large droplets of water rolling down his face.
He knows he shouldn't.
He slices again.
It hurts.
Another cut, deeper this time.
I'm real.
Something clatters to the floor with the next cut, and Izuku shoots his fuzz filled eyes to the ground.
A small grey disk sits in the red pool, flashing with green light.
He almost forgets about the blood in his confusion.
Almost.
It takes only a few minutes before the room is clean and the bandages are set on his arm, leaving no trace he was ever there.
He sits in his bedroom, at the desk, studing the device which blinks still.
There's a word, a number, on the back, which he doesn't hesitate to search.
Nothing comes up.
He tries again, different working this time.
The laptop shuts down.
"Shoot..did I get a virus?.."
--
A bang on the door is the thing to wake him, instead of the usual All Might alarm and smell of his mothers homemade cooking.
He doesn't bother getting up, knowing his mother will answer and get rid of whoever it is.
His bedroom door opens, 3 people in black and white suits storming in, searching.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
"Found it." One lifts the device he found in the air. "No damage."
"Guys, look at these." Another throws a book at the first and third.
"Those are mine!"
"Impressive.." The third hums. "Boss is gonna want to see this."
"GET OUT!"
Well...they do get out...
After picking him up, and grabbing all his notebooks.
"Ma'am, you should find a hefty amount in your bank. Don't expect him to come back."
"W-what?.." Izuku struggles more against the hold, while his mother just nods and shows them out.
--
"Midoriya Izuku." He sits across the desk from a well dressed woman, who seems to enjoy staring at him till he squirms. "You know, a lot of people find our trackers, but most are dealt with a simple memory erase and therapy."
He gulps.
"You? You're quite smart, aren't you?"
"I wanna go home..."
"You won't." She smiles. "These notebooks are something else." She waves one in the air, taunting him. "Your analysis is impressive."
"Give that back."
"I don't think I will. I think, instead, you'll move in here."
"What?!"
"You are to become Emerald, an assassing and quirk specialist for the HPSC. You will do as we say, wear what we tell you, and train when we instruct you to. Marcus!"
The door opens, and a larger man walks in. "Yes, boss?"
"Escord Emerald to his new room, get his schedule, and introduce him to his neighbour."
He nods.
Izuku gulps as he stands, following behind the man with terror. "why me..."
--
The room, his room, is..bland, to put it simply. There are no posters, no toys, nothing but a bed, closet, and desk.
"This is where you'll stay to sleep and do homework. Physical training is down the hall, the classroom is there, and weapons training will be here. Any questions?"
"yeah, uh-"
"No? Great. Hawks!" Marcus yells, banging on the door to the room beside his, making him flinch and jump.
"What?"
"Get up."
"Already?"
"Yes."
"uuuuggghhh."
There's some shuffling, then a boy steps out the room, yawning. "What is it?"
Marcus shoves Izuku closer. "Meet your neighbour."
"oh.." The look Izuku gets from him is one of sympathy. "Hey kid. I'm Hawks, who're you?"
"I-izuku M-"
"No, the name they gave you. You're not allowed to use that one anymore."
"oh...Emerald, I think.."
"Emerald? You must be training for a good position to get a gem name."
"He'll be an assassin ans quirk specialist." Marcus glares at the hero in training. "I think that's enough, go do warm-ups."
"Yes sir." Hawks shoots a two fingered salute.
--
"Sit." Izuku rushes to the lone chair in the room, body trembling. "I'll be your mental trainer. You shall adress me as sir. I've read your notebooks, so don't dissappoint me."
He nods, staring at the quiz on his desk.
--
"Huh, they said you were weak, but I didn't think it'd be this bad." His sensei stands over him, sighing.
"Marcus, note. He will accompany Hawks' warm-ups for a week, then continue alone 10 minutes longer. 10 more minutes everyweek. Plus these lessons."
"Noted."
--
"No, you hold it like this." The weapon specialist sighs, fixing his hold on the fake gun. "You were too slow setting it up anyway. Again."
Izuku whimpers.
So this is hell?