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Iguchi Shuuichi didn’t watch television much anymore; not since he grew old enough to see the messages it was sending. As a child, he’d been captivated by tales of courage and heroism, blinded by their colors and glory; now, he couldn’t help but notice exactly who played each role and it got under his skin.
It was an easy pattern to recognize if one knew what to look for and deviations from it were rare. Those who were cast as heroes all looked the same — a flat, pretty face with a strong body and no offensive mutations — while the villains had an unsettling tendency to resemble Shuuichi, himself. Had it only been once or twice — had it been contained to fantasy and nothing more — then he wouldn’t have batted an eye; as it was, however, nearly every villain that stared back at him from the screen looked like a reflection. As he grew older, the fantastical displays of cinematic heroism lost their charm, for all he could see was the reminder of what society expected him to become based on quirk alone.
Reality was no better than fiction. The stigma bled, turning childish awe and innocence into adult hero-worship and prejudice. Those born with acceptable quirks went through their daily lives without having to think about it, but people like Shuuichi lived with it. To forget about his appearance would be equivalent to forgetting how the world viewed him, which only placed him in danger of being witnessed . People clutched their bags tighter and pulled their children close when he passed by and heroes — oh, he could always feel their eyes on him as their patrol routes suddenly changed so that they happened to be going in his direction. He’d never known that so many heroes were interested in second hand video games…
Even the individuals who defied the expectations of a society that resented them suffered for it. How many times had Gang Orca, a talented hero who consistently ranked among the best, been reduced to little more than his “villainous” appearance? All of the heroes ranked on the Heroes Who Look Like Villains chart had one very important thing in common; their looks outweighed the importance of their actions. Any time he caught even a glimpse of it, Shuuichi’s skin crawled.
There was no way to win when both reality and fiction were out to get him for something beyond his control. Video games were superior in every aspect for that very reason. It didn’t matter what he designed his character to look like; he would be loved and hated by others exactly the same way. No, Shuuichi didn't watch television much anymore, unable to stomach how the fantasy was dragged down by the reality he had to trudge through every day. He highly preferred the fully immersive escapism of a customizable game.
When the face of Stain first crossed his path, however, it came from the largest television screen displayed in the window of a store on one of the city's busiest streets. All foot traffic had come to a halt as people crowded around to watch the coverage of the story, making walking by and minding his own business impossible. Curiosity got the better of him in that moment, convincing him to see what had drawn the crowd rather than try to push through it. Rocking up on his toes to peer above the mass of heads, he finally caught a glimpse of what had captivated the attention of dozens of pedestrians.
The man whose image lit up the large television screen was haunting. He looked like a dead man walking; like an omen of death alive. His body was strong, yet battered, and his clothing had been torn to shreds. Over his eyes was a mask that wrapped up a look that screamed that he wasn’t to be messed with. Any audio coming from the television was too faint to process, but the words scrolling across the screen gave the masked man a name.
Hero Killer: Stain has been apprehended.
Hero Killer. The name alone was enough to give any listeners chills; it was designed to strike fear into those who believed heroes to be infallible. Here was a man whose very title was as horrifying as the acts he had committed; the very concept of him was dripping in blood. Any good, conscientious citizen would have been horrified; Shuuichi should have been horrified, and yet…
The image of the ruthless villain only prompted intrigue .
The crimes of the Hero Killer were well known, his reign of terror having been detailed all throughout the cities he tormented. Shuuichi had kept up with it in passing, occasionally catching the names of heroes that had fallen to his blade, but this was the first time he had a face to match the moniker. This was the man who had terrorized countless heroes across Japan? For a moment, he stared in wonder, straining in vain to hear the story behind it.
Hero Killer, huh? He certainly looked the part. It wasn’t as if some of them didn’t deserve it… Frowning slightly, Shuuichi stepped away from the crowd, electing to take the long way home instead. As much as he wanted to brush it off like any other story, Stain’s face had been burned into his retinas, greeting him every time he blinked.
It was nothing that a few hours of mind-numbing games couldn’t shake from his system, or so he told himself. Being the kind of person he was, he couldn’t afford to entertain these kinds of thoughts. Villainous thoughts. It would be in his best interest to forget about Stain; to replace his face with a world of pixels and power-ups.
Video games were far superior to reality, after all.
For approximately an hour, Shuuichi effectively forgot about Stain. The moment he returned home, he donned his headset and hopped onto his computer, ready to release the stress of reality by indulging in fantasy.
Welcome, [Spinner57]!
You Have [0] Friend(s) Online
Typical . The chances of someone being online at this hour were slim; many were just getting off of work or heading to dinner. This evening, however, the silence felt different. It felt empty . With nothing else to occupy his attention, he could feel treacherous thoughts threaten to creep back in...
Shuuichi started up a popular RPG and let himself get immersed. It wasn’t difficult — it was nice to play the hero the right way — but it was ultimately short-lived.
A telltale ping had him pausing the game in favor of pulling up the chat.
You Have [1] Friend(s) Online
You Have [1] New Message From: [RabidGamer199]
Pleased to be joined by a friend, Shuuichi didn’t hesitate to open the message.
[RabidGamer199] Have you heard of Stain?
Shuuichi’s stomach dropped, though whether from disappointment or anticipation was uncertain. Stain . Of course they would be talking about Stain . Despite not encountering the full story, he knew that the villain’s capture was major news based on the crowd his battered face had attracted.
[Spinner57] You mean the Hero Killer? I saw a story about him on the news
[RabidGamer199] Just the news??
[RabidGamer199] Then you haven't actually seen anything
[Spinner57] What do you mean?
[RabidGamer199] Check this out [link]
[RabidGamer199] Until you've watched this video, you don't know Stain
[RabidGamer199] Let me know what you think
Shuuichi clicked on the link, which opened up a site that was almost sketchier than the ones he used to torrent his favorite anime. The video began to play automatically, as if it feared that a second’s delay could prevent it from relaying its message. With every word the narrator spoke, he fell deeper into awe until mere intrigue failed to describe the connection he felt.
Heroes should not seek compensation.
The title of “hero” should only belong to those who embody self-sacrifice.
Present day heroes are fakes.
False heroes.
Stain’s impassioned speech echoed in his ears long after the video came to an end, his words even more potent than his face. Each syllable resonated deep within him, bringing those thoughts he’d trained himself to avoid to the surface.
Present day heroes were fakes. Heroism was lucrative, attracting the worst kind of people who stepped on others to better themselves. People like Shuuichi were always the first to find themselves under their shiny, idolized boots. People like Shuuichi were always the first to realize that heroes weren’t there to help them, but to protect others from them. People like Shuuichi were always the first to realize that all heroes were false, but saying as much was social suicide, so they were always the first to learn to bottle up and bear the injustice.
But finally— finally— someone said it. The words were so plain and straightforward, but dynamic all the same. Those who were paid to save others could never be trusted to exact justice, couldn’t be trusted with the lives of those who most desperately needed help. They were a perversion of true heroes who took advantage of their positions and made life a living hell for those who didn’t measure up.
Modern day heroes were a poison; one that needed to be purged from society in order for it to heal. It was something that Shuuichi had always known and kept close to his heart, but to hear it aloud…
He could have cried.
Quickly, he shot back a response.
[Spinner57] He's right
[Spinner57] He's so right
[Spinner57] Heroes that take payment for their work aren't heroes at all. They're products of this twisted, prejudiced society that line their pockets with the pain of others
[RabidGamer199] I knew we'd be on the same page
[RabidGamer199] Too bad the bastard Endeavor arrested him. He should've been his next target lol
While that message was clearly meant as a joke, Shuuichi saw the truth in it. Out of all of the false heroes that Stain had slain, the current Number Two should have been among their ranks. If there had ever existed an exact antithesis to All Might , it was none other than his fiercest competitor. Seeking only recognition and glory, Endeavor was the poster child of false heroism.
For someone who spoke so sweetly to Shuuichi’s soul to fall to someone so directly against his will was insulting.
[Spinner57] Yeah. It sucks. But someone will pick up where he left off.
Someone had to. If not the League of Villains, then himself.
Stain's will would not die.
Making contact with the League of Villains had been easier than he’d thought it would be. Much like a business that was hiring, it appeared that Stain’s allies were reaching out, hoping to get a few bites from their current position. Shuuichi didn’t have much on his resume — hell, he didn’t have anything but drive and determination — but what little he had to offer had been enough to earn an audience with the leader.
Truthfully, Shuuichi wasn’t certain how to feel about joining an organization called the League of Villains . The term villain was loaded with negative connotations, and as someone whose very existence had been equated to budding villainy, embracing it left a sour taste in his mouth. Some found the concept of villainy empowering, but Shuuichi was far too raw from the label being baselessly applied to him to find it appealing. Outside of his own reluctance to associate with the word, the name was just tacky . Had Stain really allied himself with a team that sounded like it belonged in a child’s All Might fanfiction? There must be more to them than the surface suggested.
That assumption was what placed him at the entrance of an abandoned bar in the Kamino Ward of Yokohama, donned in gear that resembled that of his idol and armed to the teeth with wicked blades. For a moment, Shuuichi studied it, debating whether to enter or turn around. They had yet to see his face, this League of Villains , so there was still a chance to change his mind…
No . All apprehension aside, he had made up his mind after Stain’s truth had settled into his mind. The Hero Killer’s will was his own, adopted the moment it graced his ears, and he would see it through. Turning back wasn’t an option.
Light peeked out from under the door, indicating that the room was occupied. They were expecting him — the broker had promised as much — but he couldn’t help his nerves. Presenting himself as something useful after growing up in a world that taught him to be small was nerve-wracking on its own, much less when the stakes were so passionately high.
Drawing in a deep breath to settle the fluttering nerves in his gut, Shuuichi finally entered the bar.
The first thing that greeted him was the bar itself. It stretched down the right hand side of the room, proudly boasting a wall of alcohol and a handful of stools. Standing behind it was a tall man enveloped entirely in smoke, his only visible features being two wisps of gold where his eyes should have been. On the patrons’ side of the bar, a young man sat on one of the stools, a sickly grey hand covering his face. Off to the side, a tall woman leaned against the wall, seemingly amused watching two of her younger colleagues engage in an animated conversation. They were both fair-haired and donned in school uniforms — did the League of Villains recruit kids ? — leading Shuuichi to wonder briefly if they were somehow related. The unsettling grin on the girl’s face and the mild perturbation on the boy’s told him otherwise, though; they weren’t quite on the same level.
Whatever was being discussed before Shuuichi entered the room faded into silence as all eyes locked on him. He cleared his throat and looked between the members of the little troupe before settling his gaze on the man with the hand on his face.
Shigaraki Tomura, leader of the League of Villains . He didn’t know much about the man outside of rumors, but two elements were consistent in every story; he had a childish temper and could kill with a touch.
“So, you’re the new recruit Giran sent?” Shigaraki started, resting his head in his deadly hand.
“I am,” he replied.
“Did he come with you?”
Shuuichi shook his head. “No. He just gave me the address and told me when to show up.”
Shigaraki’s only reply was a displeased hum.
"What's with all of those big swords?" the woman against the wall commented, a smirk dancing across her features. "Is our new friend trying to compensate for something?"
Offense flared up in Shuuichi’s veins, making him itch to grab his weapon, but he held himself back. Picking a fight with an established member of the group he was trying to join would be counterproductive. Instead, he gritted his teeth, steaming internally. Before he could defend himself, Shigaraki spoke up with a wave of his hand.
"Does it matter?" Despite not being able to see his face, Shuuichi could tell that the villain was studying him closely. "That's not what we care about. What we need are results." Finally, the villain pushed himself up from his seat at the bar to approach Shuuichi. He stopped a few feet away — just close enough to reach out and touch him if he wanted to.
"What's your name?" he asked expectantly.
Shuuichi hesitated. A name . Giving out his real name to a group of criminals seemed like a bad idea, but what else could he do? What had everyone else done? Was it safe to assume that Shigaraki Tomura was the leader’s real name, or was it an alias? And what about the others scattered around the room, staring straight into his soul while having yet to offer a piece of their own? What were they called?
Since when had his mouth been so dry ...?
Meeting a strong red gaze between the gaps of those fingers, Shuuichi felt his racing mind come to an immediate halt. His name wasn’t going to make or break this, but inadvertently displaying an inability to think on his feet just might. Shigaraki was looking for signs that he would falter and he couldn’t afford to show a single one.
“Iguchi Shuuichi,” he stated, voice ringing with a certain confidence that disguised the way his heart pounded in his chest. “But call me Spinner. ” The alias slipped off his tongue effortlessly, his online persona evolving into one he could wear outside.
“An alias?” Shigaraki commented. For a moment, Shuuichi feared that it had been the wrong thing to say before the leader shrugged. “At least you had the decency to introduce yourself properly first.”
He gestured at Shuuichi openly. “I can take a guess from your cosplay getup, but I want to hear it. What’s your goal here? What do you want to do?” There was a slight dose of irritation in his voice, but it was the kind that made people grind their teeth into powder rather than the kind that drove temperamental children to lash out; an old, tired annoyance.
Nerves gave way to eagerness as he was confronted with that question. These were Stain’s allies; surely, they would understand how this resonated with him!
“I am here to execute Stain’s will,” he stated. “Society is overrun by false heroes that need to be purged. I want to follow his principles and create a society in which only true heroes thrive.”
A society completely rid of the glorified parasites that make us miserable .
Shigaraki sighed. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Another Stain fanboy...” he muttered. Before Shuuichi could question it, the younger girl made her way over.
“So, you love Mr. Stainy, too, huh?” she chimed.
Shuuichi’s eyes widened. “I — love ?”
Entirely unperturbed, she stepped further into his space until he was forced to take one back. “My name is Toga Himiko and I love him, too. We all do — even the ones who aren’t here, like Dabi. We just want to make this world easier for us to live in, you know? Isn’t that right, Mustard? Big Sis?”
While the boy pouted and shook his head in protest of the term love , the woman chuckled lightly and nodded.
Make the world easier to live in . That wasn’t exactly what Shuuichi had anticipated, but he pushed the red flags aside in favor of nodding in agreement. “And using Stain’s ideals, we can make that happen. We can change things for the better.”
Toga turned to Shigaraki and clapped her hands together. “I like him! Let’s keep him!”
“You’re not the boss here. That’s not your decision to make,” Shigaraki snapped. Turning his attention back to Shuuichi, he sighed. “...But I guess that you could be useful.”
Useful . He had successfully convinced the leader of the League of Villains that he could be of use. Stain’s allies could be his allies. Shuuichi tipped his head inquiringly. “Does that mean that I’m...?”
“Yeah,” Shigaraki interrupted, giving him the approval he craved. Beside him, Toga’s face lit up. “Welcome to the League of Villains, Spinner. ”
A grin of his own started to tug on his lips. He’d done it. Even if it was by word alone, he had won himself a position alongside the man with whom Stain deemed worthy of association. This was only step one of a long journey, but a breath of celebration was warranted all the same.
Stain’s will would not die. He would make sure of it.