Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When your eyes open, you're greeted with the continuous expanse of utter blue that gets lighter in the distance. You see big, lazy white clouds drifting aimlessly above you. You let out a deep, painless breath. You almost closed your eyes again before you saw something flicker into existence right before your eyelids fully closed.

[Congratulations, Player 003!]
[You were hit by a car.]
[You have died.]

Odd.

You stared at the lovely rose pink color. The words blend. You feel a small smile grace your lips, and you just bask in the soft glow— you're dead.

You bolt up.

In front of you, like a taunt, inches away from you. A floating box floats just above you. It is a beautiful pink color, deep cherry rose pink, with a semi-see-through screen. It was almost... whimsical, like a dialogue box from a romance game, light and fluttery. The juxtaposition of the sweet box and the fancy... robotic text took you out. You are looking at a lie, a big fat lie.

[Congratulations!]
[You are eligible for reincarnation!]

“... Am I being scammed?” You mutter in shock. Your head whips around, hoping to find a camera crew or something that screams, ‘You're the Joke!’ But at last, you see nothing. “This isn’t funny! I’m going to wake up! This is just— this—!” You begin to walk away from the screen. Your feet feel sluggish, and before you know it, you're running at full speed through this endless paradise-like moment.

You ran until your lungs burned, until your legs burned, until your throat hurt badly. You collapse onto the ground, gasping for air as your vision blurs at the edges. 

Pop!

[Congratulations!]
[You are eligible for reincarnation!]

“AHA!” You yelp, falling onto your butt. You scramble to your feet. “Leave me alone!”

[Congratulations!]
[You are eligible for reincarnation!]

You walk left.

[Congratulations!]
[You are eligible for reincarnation!]

You walk right.

[Congratulations!]
[You are eligible for reincarnation!]

You turn around.

[Congratulations!]
[You are eligible for reincarnation!]

"Fine!!"

[Request Obtained!]
[System Main Quest: Completed.]
[Player 003 is now eligible for a reward request!]

"Eh?" Your mind goes completely blank. You recognize this scheme from the many manhwa you’ve read and the games you played. In this single moment, your mind couldn’t think of anything. You gaze around before pursing your lips in thought. “Erm…. can I ask a question?”

[System will allow it.]

“Is there like… a… system store?” You inquire slowly. You don’t know if this system is literal or can infer your intention. Was it fully AI-driven or is it person-led? You feel like it’s the first option. You shift awkwardly, waiting for an answer.

[There’s a System Store.]

“Okay! Um… I would like everything to cost… half.” You wonder if cutting it in half would be too much.

[Request accepted!]

You sigh with relief, your shoulder sagging. You know if this is like a game, things will be extremely expensive, and you’ll have to grind to get money or materials. Hopefully, this is more like a romance system reliant on love meters and reputation. "So... when will I return?" You have a life you need to return to.

[System is confused.]
[Player 003 will not be returning!]

"Eh?" you shouted, confused. You stared at the pink box for what felt like hours.

[Player 003 will be sent to a new world. The player will be expected to fulfill quests for the System. In return, they get rewards that will help them in this new world!]

"I want to go home! I have a cute cat!" You cry out, shaking the pink square. You grip it and ignore the shocks the screen was sending out into your palms. "Send me back!"

[System will penalize the user.]

“That’s not fair!” You lament loudly as you let go. What the hell does this thing want? Why is it here? Why you? Can't you just die in peace? "System... Why did you pick me?" You ask the thing. It responded to you once; surely it can respond again.

[Player 003 died too soon; therefore, System is allowed to use Player 003.]

You purse your lips. It is talking in the third person. What is it AM? How narcissistic... You silently judged the pink box. You couldn't tell if you wanted to laugh, cry, or scream, maybe all three; let all those emotions flow through you and away from you. You wonder if pleading to the System would get you bonus points or let you leave; it does sound like a narcissist. You sat down and looked up at the pink box. "What is this new world?" You say in a defeated tone.

[System is delighted!]
[Player 003 will be transported to Universe 501, to Earth. This world is filled with people with superpowers.]

"So Marvels? DC?"

[System is angry you interrupted.]

".... So no?" You said slowly. You would love to get close to your favorite Marvel or DC characters. Especially Batman and Spiderman. 

[System is tired of Player 003's stupidity.]

“Sorry…” you mumble quietly.

[Player 003 will be reincarnated into a random person's body and will be sent a quest that must be fulfilled, or you will be penalized. Your goal is to survive.]

And bingo... 

You wonder if you can be penalized for dying... or if it ends if you die... Could it bring you back to life? You wanted to ask the System questions without being penalized or being yelled at by a pink box. You sat there silently for a few minutes, but the pink box didn't change, so you assumed you could speak.

"So... what will I get penalized for?" You whisper.

[System has decided you will be born into the small, powerless population!]

Great... You sat back and sighed, looking at the screen before looking away. "So... what do I have to do?" You need a decisive answer to what you do.

[Player 003 will be doing Quest to fulfill the requirements. System will give rewards in return.]

“But if I’m powerless, then how do you expect me to win?” You inquire quietly. “Like if a world of superpowers and people with superpowers, it would be so unfair if I’m asked to defeat a villain with no power… The chance I get born rich and pull a Batman or a Tony Stark is nil.” You tried to sound as pathetic as you feel to wiggle out another “gift” from the system.

[Then you should have held off on your wish.]

“... I didn’t know I could.” You mumble and sniff in like you're about to cry. You force fake tears into your mind, which was a lot easier than you realize. You continue to sniffle loudly. “I’m not the smartest girl alive; my mind simply tries to conform to the rules.” The tears come faster and harder.

When did this become a real moment for you?

[“Don’t cry, my love.”]

You flinch and look up to hear a sweet, low, melodious voice ring out in this expanse of paradise. You look up at the box, which now looks like one of those flat lines. His voice sounds like honey and a deep baritone growl.

[“I am not a cruel man.”]

You watch as the line jumps up and down as the man speaks. You sniffle. The tears are far from fake now; they’re all too real. Somehow, when you were trying to manipulate the system, you manipulated yourself into tears.

“You're not?”

[“Of course, I’m not!”]

He barks out, making you flinch a bit. You draw yourself inward. You tried to calm yourself down, your mind still running miles trying to find another loophole, but that’s not your nature. Sneaking around and lying isn’t something you like to participate in.

[“I’ll give you a gift.”]

“What?”

[“That is for you to figure out.”]
[Is Player 003 ready to be reincarnated?]

"... Yes."

Everything goes white.

.

.

The soft warmth is replaced with a chill. Your face scrunched up, your breath ripped from your lungs. Your eyes open, but everything was far too bright— too painful to see. A cry breaks from your lips. A little wail that tumbles out like a roar.

You wailed.

You scream and scream for who knows what. Through your blurry vision, you see a world of grime and trash. You cried and cried. You tried to stand up but felt weakness in your body. You couldn't lift your head; it felt like a thousand pounds. You lift your arms and find a chubby limb appear in your line of sight.

You are a baby. 

You scream this time more in shock than fear. You didn't want to be a child again! To lose your autonomy, the freedom you grew to enjoy. People don’t care for children; they don’t see them as human. The worst part is school; you’ll have to suffer through school again. The drama, the hierarchy, the judgment. You cry and curse, but all that leaves your mouth are babbles of screams.

Nobody came.

The crying slowed down as your body loses all the momentum to fight. Your body shivers in the fabric wrapped around you. Then you got hungry, and the diaper grew uncomfortable. You hate being so helpless, so pathetic.

You hate this.

You started to cry again; this time, your entire heart was in those cries. Fear grips your heart, and you wonder if this is how you die for the second time. Where were your parents? Where were you? Hours pass, and your throat begins to hurt, but you cannot stop wailing for freedom, for peace, for anyone! Anyone... Someone, please come.

"Are you alright?" Your cries begin to dull as you see a boy walking closer to you. Dread hit you as the thought that this was your father hit you. He smiles at you, his hair like a flaming blue cloud, and his tan skin oddly suits him. 

You squint; he doesn’t look old enough to be a parent. Horror sets in your gut, bubbling out into an embarrassing heat in your cheeks. You start sniffling again. "Here, you look uncomfortable," he coos softly, a small smile tugging on his lips.

The boy reaches for you and gently lifts you. You get a good look at where you are, and you're abandoned in an alleyway. He sets you down on what feels like a dense blush pillow. You touch the thing and it feels… vaperous. Instantly, you realize what he was going to do, and you freak out. You didn't want a stranger changing your diaper or seeing you in this pathetic state. 

You wail, only making the boy more stressed out.  He shushed you and pulled out a phone, calling someone. He searched for baby stuff as he waited for someone to pick it up. Who is this boy? Who is he calling? You hope it's the police.

"Hizashi, can you come to my location?" The boy said, putting the phone on speaker.

“Why?” You hear a loud voice.

“I found an abandoned baby.”

“Another kitten?” The other boy, Hizashi, asks.

“No! Not a kitten, a baby!” The cloud boy said. He is dangling his finger right above your hand like he wants to play. You did not grab his hand or even try to. “Can you also buy diapers?”

“Man, that’s gonna be so awkward,” Hizashi grumbles, and we’re going to be late for school! You know how Sensei gets? He’ll lecture us over tea, and with that calm voice he has when he’s about to drop devastating news!”

“We’ll get a note from my mom!”

“... Ugh! You owe me, got it?” Hizashi grumbles through the phone.

“Thanks, man.”

His friend arrived shortly, huffing loudly and carrying a bag full of diapers. You kept your eyes averted, you felt your cheeks flush, but it probably matched your cries. The boy finishes cleaning you up.

"There you go, do you feel better?" He said in a soft baby voice. Your embarrassment dies as intense feet of hunger grip your guts, and your stomach growls like an empty gas tank. You begin to cry again. That's all you seem capable of doing, screaming and crying. He picks you up and bounces you around.

“Dude…” Hizashi mumbles, staring over the other boy’s shoulder, “I can’t believe your luck! Finding a goddam baby? Shouta won’t be able to believe this! Let me take a photo!”

“Hizashi, she’s hungry, let’s get to my home so my mom can figure out what to do.” Hizashi didn’t seem to notice his friend’s logical sound reasoning. You glared into the camera like you could turn the blonde boy into stone.

 "Just wait a little bit longer, I, Oboro Shirakumo, will make sure you are sent to a safe place!" He announced lifting you so you can see his face. Your glare slightly lessens as he goes back to cradling you. "We need to buy her baby formula—"

"Let's just drop her off at the police station, let them handle it. Don’t stress out your mom more than she needs to be.” Hizashi warns. Oboro didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he didn't care. He smelled nice, like a fresh breeze. What a sweet boy, you knew he made a great husband to some lucky man or woman.

“You can go to school. I need to get her baby formula.” Oboro said with a smile. Before the other boy could say anything, he jumped onto something, cloud-like. You look over your shoulder, you feel your heart drop, and you sink into the abyss of anxiety. You hope the boy doesn’t fall through the cloud.

Someone abandoned you in a secluded alleyway. Someone left you there to die… Did you have parents? Did they want you to die? The system really lets you be sent to an abandoned house to die from exposure.

The system really is an ass!

The boy floated along your baby's hands, grasping for the clouds he was sitting on. The clouds slip through your stubbly little fingers. How was he doing this? Was this his "superpower" as the system referred to? He lands, and you tilt your head, but quickly yelp as your big head pulls your neck into a funny position. You couldn't read what the sign said... was that Japanese? Or Chinese? You couldn't tell; all you know is it wasn't Korean. Oboro catches your head, supporting your neck as he walks inside.

Surely this place does have baby formula. You look around, and it looks like a drugstore. He walked around until he found the baby formula and a bottle. Never once have you seen baby bottles and formula in a simple drugstore; maybe they have baby food, but not baby formula. 

He sets you down on a bench as he begins to pour the powder baby formula into the bottle of warm milk and shakes it up. “Dink up!” He smiles as he picks you up and climbs back onto his cloud, “Now I need to call my mom, figure out what to do…” He mutters the last part.

You can hear the panic in his voice, even with all those big smiles and a happy-go-lucky attitude, you almost forgot this boy was a boy. He’s so self-assured even when he’s stuck in an unknown situation, like finding an abandoned baby.

"I can't leave anyone who needs help. I'm a hero after all!" Oboro declares as he puts the tip of the bottle in your mouth. You begin to drink quickly, your empty stomach filling up.  You don't know what to think of Oboro; he was a strange kid. Who goes to an abandoned building and finds a baby? This one is weird.

"Mom," Oboro speaks on the phone as he floats along, using his shoulder to hold his phone. A few people turned to him, some scowled, others smiled, but most looked confused. He kept walking, and the sky was still blue. Those people must think lowly of him.

The buildings look normal, but the people... Only some look human. People walked around with horns, colorful skin, tails, extra arms, wings... What was this place? It felt like you were watching a fantasy show, where different species were mingling together. It kind of reminds you of Avatar: The Last Airbender, some were pends, and others weren't.  "I found a baby in an abandoned building. What do I do?"

“Oh… baby,” you hear his mother’s muffled voice, “Bring her home and leave it up to me. You’re late for school.”

“Ok, Ma.”

Grief hits you, and you begin to cry; this time, real tears roll down your face. You missed your family. In this new world, you were abandoned. Who will stand behind you as you take a step forward? You know the government does not care for individuals who have no ties to power. 

You are powerless. 

You don’t know what gift the system gave you, nor what it entails, or how to turn it on. Will the system tell you? Or will you have to figure it out? Fear grips you; no one is obligated to care about you. No one is expected to love you. Your mind races; it seems a lot of people have some sort of power or oddity to them. You look down at your body, and you look normal. You wonder if anyone wants to adopt you when you have nothing special to offer.

Oboro bounces you up and down, trying to soothe your fearful cries. But fat globby tears roll down your face as you cry. People turn to you, but you can't stop mourning the loss of your old family, the loss of your cat, the loss of your friends, and everything you know. Realization hit you now, you're a stranger in a strange world, alien to everything you know.

From your blurry vision, you see something light pink. Your eyes widen, and a few more tears fall from your eyes. Above your head is a system window. You reach out with your chubby hands, and it passes right through, but you feel a slight electric shock fly down your arm.

[Welcome to Universe 5518, where 80% of the population has a power called Quirks. You, Player 003, are in the minority, 20% of the Quirkless population.]
[Main Quest: Get Adopted.]
[Time requirement: Five Years]

"Eh?" You babble out, staring at the pink box. The box has a small timer in the corner counting down from 60 seconds. You read the information over and over again. Main quest... Get adopted... Time duration... Five years. The pink box vanishes, and a new dread sets in your stomach. You're racked with anxiety and fear. The claws of fear and hands of anxiety rip at your small form, weighing you down. You were going to drown in all this stress. You started to cry again, stressed crying.

"Shh, we're almost home, you'll be safe," Oboro shushed up as he got off the phone. His words weren't very comforting.

By the time you two stopped walking, you were in front of a house, brutal in architecture, but on the inside, it felt homey, sweet, and warm. There, you see a woman walk out with hair like a perfect, puffy cloud. The woman worriedly walks forward, scooping you up and looking down at your small figure. "Where did you find her?"

"Where the Kato family used to live. I was doing one last kitten feeding when I heard a baby's cry." Oboro explains. 

"Well, go to school, I'll call the police." Oboro's mother said.

Oboro pauses for a second and looks at you.

Poof!

A pink box appears. 

[Hidden Quest: Oboro's Heart]
[Accept?]        [Deny?]

You squint. Time slowed. A pink hue engulfed your body. A 60-second timer begins. You freak out, not knowing what was going on. A hidden quest? What is this? If you refuse, will you be penalized? You steal yourself and sucked in a deep breath. You're a baby. You can't do anything. You stared at the box, indecisiveness hitting you like a truck.

5

4

3

2

1

[Time's Up.]

The pink hue surrounding you fades, and Oboro blinks. He frowns but sits down to put his shoes back on. You hold your breath, but you don't see any pink system box appearing. You let out a hiccuping sigh. You watch as Oboro waves goodbye to his mother and leaves for school. You felt a wave of dread hit you, and you didn't know why.

"Don't worry, baby girl," The woman coos at you, tickling your cheeks, "I'll call the police and they'll figure something out."

Of course. You'll be sent off to someone else, left for the government to either abandon you within the system or a lucky Samaritan to save you. It didn't take long for some police officers to come. By then, you have fallen asleep.

This is the last time you see Oboro in this timeline.

.

.

You were dropped off at a fancy-looking Orphanage miles away. You slept most of the ride there. You recognized this place; the busy streets of Shibuya caught your eye. You're in Japan! Tokyo, to be exact. Your eyes are soaked in the busy streets as the car drives by. The orphanage you were left at was large. A corporate building with glass and a small park on one side. There, in big English lettering, was Edan's Children Orphanage.

You were handed over to a large woman, old from the look on her face. She had a small smile. You looked at her badge, the random squiggle of Japanese characters made no sense to you.

This will be your home... You hope not for long.

You need to be adopted.

Chapter Text

The first night at the new orphanage, the other babies kept you awake. Every time you begin to doze off, one would wake up crying, for food or a diaper change. When morning came, you, too, were screaming with irritation.

Being a baby is hard.

You spent most of your time trying to understand the kanji. You had long realized you were in Japan; Oboro’s name gave it away. It didn’t sound Chinese, and it was definitely not Korean. The writing was unlike that of Thai, Hindi, or Arabic. The first time you looked at the kanji, it was just simple lines. But the longer you study them, the faster you can recognize each character.

The first year, you cried a lot, for attention, for care, for the sake you being bored. My, how a baby can scream. You were one of the “well-behaved” kids, so you would only get 5% of attention from the twenty staff members.

It’s so lonely.

No one looked at you like you were of value. They stared at you like a chore. You’re weak and unloved, small and pathetic. What a grand life you live. Crying got you nothing; you were one of the many criers, and unlike the others, your voice died.

No one looked at you.

You became the “easy” baby, the baby the nurses came to relax. It’s ironic, when you stopped begging, they came to you. You were usually left alone in your cot, with little stimulus. You could always faintly hear the sound of the TV, but most days you were staring at the ceiling.

Then you begin to dream.

Of Oboro.

You remember his words: I, Oboro Shirakumo, will make sure you are sent to a safe place! You wonder if he’d come to visit, and you begin to wait for him. You’d hear the announcement that the visitation hours are on. Every day you waited.

He never came.

‘If I had done his hidden quest…’ So many ideas fill your mind. Would he be here? Would you be fostered by his family? Would they even adopt you? That feels like wishful thinking.

You were the last one to hit milestones; there was no need to… to try. No one would care! You didn’t flip over until you could do it flawlessly. When you spoke your first word, it was in your mother tongue, not Japanese, and it was nearly a full sentence too.

The Japanese came to you a little slowly and clumsily. You repeated the sounds they tried to get you to say, without even knowing. You just tried. In all, you were a good baby with a little quirk of being the slowest.

Then the years went by. One, then two, then you were three. You were a loner, and you rarely hung out with the other children. It didn’t matter that you were isolating yourself; there were so many kids, you were simply a little drop of water in a bowl.

In all that time, you never saw the pink box, even when you were looking out for it. You waited, and waited, until you began to think it was just your own memory playing tricks on you.

Then you turn four.

You begin to notice one thing with the older kids: they either look completely normal or different, like a mutation, something visible. There were three types of quirkless kids: the bad ones, those who lash out and grow increasingly difficult to work with. Most of those kids ran away, and you didn’t know. The second group was the overachievers. They did everything to get noticed: good grades, good behavior, and good skills. The best of the best were usually adopted the others strived to be like those kids. 

The last case was where the loners, the quiet ones. They did very little to be noticed; they kept their heads down and did their own thing. But all the quirkless loners were an unspoken rule; they were all equal, and those who became bullies were shunned.

A lot of heroes came to visit; they always brought gifts and good publicity. They were in their hero suits and spent most of their days taking care of the toddlers and older kids. They always talked about heroism and becoming a hero; it was a pipeline from innocent child to hero fanatic. A few of the shyer heroes stood by you; you were easy to look after. 

It didn’t take you long to realize this was the number one orphanage in Tokyo, the orphanage that All Might donates his money to. All Might was the Superman of this universe; he came here and there to read to us and let the kids play all over him. You always sat back, stressed over getting adopted rather than playing.

Preschool was fine. You wore cute outfits that matched you with the others, forced to hold hands, wearing bright jackets as you crossed the streets. In all, everyone paid small children no mind; even the villains tried not to hurt them. 

The moment people began to turn, four quirks began to appear. One by one, like little crocuses popping out of the snow, quirks cropped up quickly. It was a girl first, then twins, then a boy, nearly every other day, quirks appeared.

The toddlers in the orphanage who got quirks were quickly adopted, still young enough to call their new parents mom and dad. At school, everyone was happy. All but you. You wouldn’t get a quirk; that’s what the system told you.

Around December, it was just you. At first, everyone thought you were a late bloomer, but when weeks turned into months. They all begin to lose hope. Kids started to talk, and soon you are ostracized, but you don’t care, you know. The nurses spent less time with you, and the probability of your getting adopted was close to zero, but you hoped.

.

.

It’s a week before your fifth birthday. When you woke up in your bed, you could faintly see the haze of pink. When your eyes focus, you can see the haze of pink. 

[6d 07:00:54]

It took you a second to realize what it was. ‘Oh… fuck! This can’t be happening! No, no, no, no!’ You feel your stomach churn painfully, and you feel ill, extremely ill. You tumble out of bed, tangling in your blanket. You didn’t care; you most likely bruised your knees. You run to the bathroom and hunch over the toilet, dry-heaving.

Your stomach churns again, your heart racing, chest tightening, and you gag again. And again, and again. You didn’t realize you skipped breakfast, not until a sharp knock on your door. You open the door, and the staff member stares down at you. “It’s time for school.” She spoke curtly If you were a burden.

“I don’t feel well,” you mutter, holding your stomach. The woman sighs and rubs her brow.

“Fine, but we still expect you to do homework.” You nod and close the door, climbing back into bed. You turn onto your stomach to hide from the counter. But as the second ticked on, the restlessness in your muscles began to seize up. Your foot bounced, you twist and turn.

‘I can’t do this!’ You look up at the pink box and kick off your blanket. You dress and leave the room. It’s empty, oddly empty. It feels like a liminal space, eerie. You feel like you’re breaking the rules, like you’re skipping class.

It’s eating away at you.

You walked in the garden and tried to catch fresh air. You stare up into the sky, and the biggest, fluffiest cloud slowly drifts by. You sit in a beam of light and let the warmth soak into your skin. You let out a sigh, your eyes downcast, avoiding the pink box.

You’re almost five.

You wonder if anyone will notice your five.

The time just keeps counting, and as you watch your body shudder and you feel the urge to cry. You wipe your hand on your pants, trying to rub the stress out of your body. It didn’t work, but you kept trying and trying. Maybe a run will be nice, or just exercising the stress away. The idea? It pained you.

By lunchtime, you’re hungry, but you know the orphanage isn’t serving lunch. You’ll have to wait until dinner. You get up and slip through the door of the main building and begin to mingle about the area where the orphanage resides. The street vendor’s food hits your nose, and your stomach twists with hunger. You have no money to buy food.

Being an orphan sucks. You wish Batman existed in this world, there’s a higher chance you’d be adopted by him than ever being adopted in this world. International adoption is greater than that of in-country adoption.

It didn’t take long for you to see other kids walking; school must have let out. You follow some of the kids to arcades, karaoke, and secondary study lessons. You trudge back to the orphanage and wander the hall.

It was around dinnertime when you were walking around the building absentmindedly. The line is too long; you’ll wait until after it subsides to grab food. The food here is good, but it’s not something you crave. It’s foreign, and you just want a taste of home.

You stop walking once you hear mild talking; you peek through the door to see a couple standing there crying. You didn’t know who they were. You wonder if this was your time to get adopted. You listen on.

“What child are you looking for?” the orphanage director asks. He was a money-focused person; to him, the children were like cattle— pets being sold.

“A quiet one; we’re quirkless and like a quirkless child.” Your ears perk, and you feel the excitement rise within you. 

This is your chance!

You step closer, and the floor creaks, and the adults turn to look at you. You poke your head in bashfully, well, more like Oh shit, you were caught. You knew the director didn’t know you; he probably only knows the high achievers of the coolest quirked kids out there.

“Who are you?” the director asks.

“(Y/n),” you offer, knowing full well this man doesn’t know who you are. The name sounds foreign on your tongue. It’s your name here… but you still like your original name.

 Often, you miss who you were. Especially your mom, sometimes you wish someone would have your back— no one does here.

“Go back to the dining hall!” he barks at you, and you feel paralyzed. Your gaze flickers over to the couple, and they look you over. You can see the gears turning in their heads. You open your mouth ready to say you're quirkless, but the look in their eyes says something. There was something off about them, and you didn’t like it. The ick formed.

You slowly turn around and walk away.

The pink box appeared. 

[Main Quest: Get Adopted]
[Status: Failed]

“What? But— but— I still have time—” You stutter out, your eyes blowing wide with confusion and panic. You weren’t about the barge in there and shouted, ‘I am quirkless!’ Hoping to be adopted.

“What am I supposed to do?” You ask, panicking and freaking out. Your stomach growls.

[Penalty Quest: Survival]

Your face blanched, and you felt your cheeks tingle painfully, fear and guilt eating you up.

[Rules: Survive the allotted time]
[Time left: 120 hours, 59 minutes, 59 seconds]

You hear a chime, a sharp boing noise like an instrument note being blared out. Everything around you changed like a snap of a finger. A gasp catches in your throat. Your stomach growls painfully.

It’s been nearly 24 hours since you last ate. You look around, you’re in a clearing on a grassy knoll. The air smells cling, not a single smell of pollution is in the air. You turn around a few times, confused. If you just have to survive in this wilderness, you think you can do it.

[Your goal is to survive a nightfall in this dungeon; in return, you will return to your universe.]

“D-dungeon?” You squeaked out your face, fully paling, your heart racing as tears rolled down your face. In the distance, you hear a guttural, bone-deep growl. Your knees give out, and you collapse onto the ground.

“S-system? Isn’t that like… like… more than three days? That’s so unfair!” You cry out.

[“I advise you to run.”]

You can hear the howl of the beast. You scramble onto your shaky legs and begin to run with all your might. The adrenaline courses through your muscles, gripping your mind. You’re not the paragon of humanity that lives above nature; now you’re just a mid-tear predator who will be prey for another beast.

You run for your life.

Something out there was chasing you.

“System— why?” You gasp as your side cramps up so badly you can’t run anymore. You kept speed walking, only the pain was stronger.

[“Just survive. You failed my quest. This is merely your punishment.”] 

His voice is cold, cold, and cruel. You feel a fresh wave of terror seep into your bones. ‘Why? Why? Why?’ You’re crying as you begin to jog. ‘Maybe I should just die again! I died once— what if I am sent into another system? A meaner system?!’ The thought horrified you.

You ran through the pitch blackness of the forest; you could only see from the glowing mushrooms on the forest floor. To your surprise, the ground wasn’t made of dead leaves and random sticks; it was moss, soft and gentle under your feet. You felt hunger grip you again, and you cursed yourself for not getting in the line!

You fumble and you fall hard, your knees scraping some tree roots. Instantly, a sharp sting hits you. You can feel blood dripping down your leg. You curse under your breath and shout into the night air. “This isn’t fair! System, when I catch you! Oh, when I catch you!” You stand up and wince from the sharp and spontaneous dull pain in your knees, but you keep moving.

The only time you stop running is when you find a strange white marble gazebo. 

[Congratulations, Player 003! You have found the safe zone. Here you are safe and can get anything you need, only for five hours.]

You collapse onto the cold marble ground, falling onto your back. You let out a deep sigh as your sweaty shirt sticks to you. You close your eyes. Five hours… that will actually cut into the time you have.

After you breathe steadily, you sit up and notice a table full of food and a small red box with a white cross on it. You hobble over to the table. You slowly wiped your scraped knees with alcohol and bandaged them up.

Then you devoured all the food you could; it was your native food, so it was a real treat. You ate until you were so full you felt like you were about to burst open. 

You passed out, tired as hell, body worn out.

.

.

Boom Boom Boom.

Your eyes shoot open, and you are lying on soft moss. You can feel the ground shake violently. Your eyes dart around. You see nothing but trees; the gazebo is gone. In the distance, you see a point and an arbitrary number; you get up and begin to run towards it. This almost felt like a video game, but you didn’t want to be inside a video game!

“System, I hate you!” You shout, finally letting out the emotions you’ve been harboring all these years, all the repression the orphanage pushed down onto you.

[System is mildly amused.]

“When I catch you!”

[Systems knows you’ll never catch him.]

“You’re no god!” You shout back, “A god wouldn’t pick the blushiest pink as their system screen!” You snap back.

[System is offended. System isn’t gay—]

“I DIDN’T SAY YOU WERE GAY! And stop talking in third person; you’re not HIM, you’re not AM!” you shout at the top of your lungs. You stumble into a clearing of wildflowers that glowed under a full moon. The moon hasn’t moved. Okay, maybe an inch or two, but not what you expected for a five-hour nap. It should be close to dawn!

“Hey, System, why isn’t the moon moving?”

[System rolls his eyes. You must survive nightfall; time moves differently here.]

“... No shit,” you grumble. Around you, the flowers bloom, their petals glowing before you. Soon they began to float the heads of flowers, twirling so elegantly that you were in awe before their petals turned into sharp blades. Your legs and arms were sliced like little paper cuts. You let out groans of pain and keep running.

“System, what is this shit?” you cry out. The little burns in your arms and legs were killing you. They sting, and blood oozes out. You hated this, all because you got the ick from the couple!

“System, you’re a cunt, you know that?”

[System is offended.]

“Good, you ugly, short, stupid, insecure fool!” The ground below you gives out, and you fall about a foot into a hole, rolling your ankle. You let out a strangled cry and glare upwards, seeing the pink screen before you, gloating.

[Do not offend System. I control if you live or die.]

You feel the urge to flip the screen off, but help back. You whimper as you gingerly crawl out of the pothole the system made. You look behind you to see a lumbering form of a giant monster running towards you. You scream and begin to scramble, hobbling as fast as you can towards the point in the distance.

The monster is gaining distance on you. ‘A little bit more!’ Your mind pleaded. You want to cry, to cry and cry, but you can’t cry here. The forest broke a little bit, and next to a small stream was the Gazebo.

As your first foot hit the marble stairs, something violently sliced through your back. You howl in pain and look back to see a giant owl-head lion with the tail of a snake. You crawl backward into the gazebo as the creature prowls around you. Its feet were like the talons of a hawk.

[Congratulations, Player 003, you have found the safe zone.]

You let out a cry, a deep, pained, childish cry. The pain is bad, and you can’t reach your back for that cut. You inch towards the first-aid kit and begin to do as much as you can. The number of Band-Aids you put on makes you feel stiff. Anything to stop the bleeding…

Time passed you in slow bursts and in hours. Every time you slept, the timer always had a dent in the time, but the moment you awoke, everything moved slowly. Every single time you wake up, your body is sore, weak, and in pain. You rain on a shitty ankle.

You cried so much. It was more than sadness and terror. It’s tears of exhaustion, rage, and pain. You were crying because screaming wasn’t good enough. You have so many emotions to express, but nothing but crying is good enough.

“I want to go home!” You shout, your voice cracking in the night air. It felt good screaming, but you know you’re screaming to a cruel god.

“System…” you call out quietly as you sit in the gazebo. The familiar glow of a soft, taunting pink box flickers to life in front of you. “How much longer?”

[Player 003 still has 72 hours left.]

“No, I’m killing myself.” You say calmly, This is the last time you’re running. 

[System will not let you.]

“And you can stop me?” You question back. The system’s sweet pink question turns blood red. Your eyes widen slightly.

[“You will do no such thing.”]

The voice that spoke was still the sensual voice you recognized, but it was low and growling. If you weren’t on the verge of exhaustion and the will to simply give up, you’d like to listen to this man read a book to you. Even with his shitty personality…

“And what will you do?” You inquire back.

[“I won’t let you die; you will suffer and suffer until I say so.”]

“I do not consent.” You mumble, feeling more emotions bubbling up violently.

[“I don’t care.”]

Your eyes widen, your breath hitches as you see the time for the safe zone lose another hour. You squeak out a pained noise. Curse your big mouth! 

You barely slept and barely recovered from your injuries. You moved like a zombie, barely comprehending what was going on around you.

You thought the system liked you.

Clearly, you’re stupid. It was only trying to manipulate you. You’re so fucking stupid!

All you did was run, patch up your wounds, and sleep when you could. You stop living and start to survive. 

All you can do is survive.

Chapter Text

You did try to give up, but every time you stop to accept your fate, something estranged happens. A sweet motherly voice that seems to ring out from within you and around you, like you were the epicenter of a gong. It was so strong, like a command from a queen mother. A simple command in a language you recognize simply by the sheer will of its own existence. Latin.

{“Retrorsum fluente aqua, tempus serpit.”}

You always found yourself in the moment before you decided to quit. And if you stop there, then you go back in time, and the timer goes back too. You’re stuck, stuck in a cycle, and someone doesn’t want you to leave. You found yourself crying. Crying from the absurdity, your situation, and because that was the only thing you could do.

You found yourself running from one gazebo to another, sitting there, huffing and puffing and feeling like you're walking through hell. It’s like every nerve in your system being set on fire, every fiber of your being screaming to give up. It’s like someone decided to turbocharge your brain and refuse to let you miss a single thing.

Your arm is broken, you poorly wrapped it like you see in a movie with a stick, but you don’t think you’ve done it right. Your right ankle? It’s fucked, you limp as you run. You hobble towards the marker. The dull pulsating pain is something you can’t acclimate to; every time you get used to one level, a fresh wave resets you. By the time you hit the Gazebo, you’re laughing, laughing, and crying.

Your side is splinting, your mouth is dry, and every breath hurts. Your vision is going splotty. You collapsed onto the step, drinking so much water you felt sick. You collapse and stay there until your stomach settles, until your nerves settle. You wonder at what point your tears will stop, and you regain control of yourself. But apparently, this prolonged horror could still pull tears from you.

"System!" You cry out in pain, "How much longer?" You plead aloud like some sinner to a god. Your ankle is pulsating painfully. Your ankle was ruined. If you didn't get help soon, you might have to amputate it.

[Player 003 still has 6 hours left.]

You almost screamed out in sorrow. You grit your teeth, and you grab another item from the first aid kit. At this point, you feel like a witch throwing one ointment on in hopes that something magical can happen.

[System can't believe player 003 is this pathetic.]

"System, I am five!"

[Player 003, are you stupid? I gave you a secondary gift because you begged so sweetly.]

Your face paled. Oh… so he did notice you were trying to wiggle another thing out of him. You gulp and look down at your hands. You ask for things to be cheap, and you wiggle another pity power out of him. “... What is my other gift?” You ask quietly.

[“My giving up already? But darling, you’ve been doing it already.”]

You flinch at his voice, how sweet and… protective it got. You sniffle, and something just washes over you, the need for someone to hear your plight. “Why? This… this feels too much!” You whine, feeling all 5 years of your new existence course through you.

[It wouldn’t be such a hassle if you hadn’t wasted your time. System gave you a gift, and you squandered the time.]

You flinch; the tonal shift sends a shiver down your spine. You look away. The pink box vanishes, leaving you there with nothing but your own thoughts. You check the timer; you have a few hours. You lay down on the cold marble floor and fell asleep.

.

.

The smell of salt hits your nose, along with the gentle sound of lapping water onto the shore. “... /n)….” You turn to see a beautiful man, handsome too, but beautiful first, like a son of Aphrodite. Skin as deep as dark brown sugar, the sun perfectly bouncing off his sweaty skin. His hair is shaggy, with long curls clumping to his temple. He has the most startling sky-blue eyes and the softest smile. Blue aquamarine quartz dangling earrings.

He’s walking up to you, a sword at his side. The winds blow his hair, and his eyes are trained on you. His mouth moves, but you can’t hear what he’s saying. You have a feeling he’s calling your name. You know him…

You know his name.

Teman.

As he approaches you, he takes your palm, his lips soft against your skin, lips warm and slightly wet. His sultry eyes looked at you directly into your eyes, holding it with such intensity. His other hand reaches for your waist possessively. His hand is warm, sending shivers down your spine. He was calling your name in a whiny pleading way, like he needed you. 

"Look at me, my heart, you should focus on me and only me."

.

.

When the gazebo vanished, you woke with a jolt as you landed on the soft grass of this world. You stand up hobbling. You couldn’t run; your ankle hurts so badly you can only stumble. The panic surges through you. ‘Run! Run! Run!’ Blares through your mind.

You feel like crying, but nothing comes out. You whine but keep stumbling forward. ‘Help me! Someone!… I’m going to die! Do something! Think (Y/n) think!’

The smell hits you first, the smell of saffron and the night, or the hot sand of a beach. Your walking slows to a halt, and your head whips around. You feel rough, gripping your face, curling into your hair, clawing at your messy hair.

{“Curre celer, curre velox, tempus fugit."}

Gold light surrounds you, and you feel this immense ease wash over you; the pain in your ankle fades into a dull pulsating form. Your cuts and scrapes begin to heal, and your broken arm even feels better. It feels like a mom kissing all your boo-boo away. When the gold light dispersed, you blink and then look up.

Your mouth drops open.

[Player 003, You have 9 minutes 59 seconds left.]
[Congratulations on discovering your powers.]

You let out a gasp. You stared at the ticking time before you heard a low growl. You almost jumped out of your skin. You were able to run now, albeit every step hurt like hell. You ran; the new wind you caught did have a downside. Full body pain, soreness, and aching feet.

You run every so often you check the timer. It felt like the time itself was slowing down, that the system was making the timer go slower, or was it the adrenaline? You can’t tell. You run as fast as you can, try to get enough distance from whatever beast is chasing you. You hope your shitty ankle won’t give out.

Run.

Your ankle twists, and you fall onto your knees, cutting them up again. You let out a loud, “fuck,” and climb onto your feet again. You’re not going to die now. Now, with the timer so close to being done, you feel your rage building. You have a lot to say to this… System.

[Time's up.]

You collapse onto the ground, gasping for air, your head buzzing, vision splotchy. "Can— you heal— me?" You gasp out. If he does that, you might not make him listen to you cursing him out. The pink box goes blank like the System is watching you, studying you from behind the screen.

[System will do no such thing.]

"... You're an asshole! I can tell you're single as fuck because no one would ever want your loser, pathetic, cruel ass! I hope the woman you love hates you!”

[System will not take disrespect.]

"Stop talking in the third person, I know who you are!" You snap. You think you know, you think you know who he is.. The pink screen goes blank. The System was looking at you. You could tell the thing was thinking. All of a sudden, the screen goes red and warning sirens begin to play.

"You're so dramatic, Teman." You point, feeling vindicated. The pink box vanishes completely. In the distance, you hear a deep guttural roar that rumbles your bones. You look around and begin to freak out. Your time is up!

You're free... right?

"Teman!" You shout, hoping to get the System's attention. All of a sudden, you feel someone behind you. You turn to find Teman staring at you with the most hateful expression. He was in Roman esc robes, gold dripping down his sculpted body. Your face flushed with a mix of fear and surprise. He grabbed you, lifting you to his face, veins popping out.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

“Me? Not your fucking punching bag!” You scream into his face. “You're just a pathetic incel torturing a kid—” He slams you right into the gazibo’s pillar, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Look

"Weak little girl trying to play with a God. I will explain this once and only once. Use your head, you pathetic fool! I will not hand-feed you victories." You let out a cry that really hurt, and you can’t help that your little boy feels pain a lot more viciously when you were older. “Now, who do you think you are?”

{Mother… Time…}

You hear a whisper in your ears, a woman's voice. His blue eyes were crystal clear, burning with hatred and rage. He was going to kill you here and now. You swallow and look dead in his eyes.

"Mother Time," You repeat. The moment your words fall from your lips, his grip loosens. His eyes soften into the man you saw in your dream. The veins in his neck relax, and he looks at you with a more intrigued expression. Behind you, a giant wyvern crashes through. Your heartbeat spikes into your eardrums, thudding like an engine. Teman flicks his free hand, and the wyvern's head is lobbed off.

He can really kill you.

He tilts his head and looks at you, truly looks at you. “... So that was why,” he said softly. All pretense of annoyance vanished. “My little wife has come back to me.”

“Eh?” You tilt your head, “me? I’m a child—”

“Time is relevant. You are simultaneously a child and a crone. In the past and future, alive and dead. You are past, present, and future.” You stared at him and wondered if they’res child protective service from the system. Could you petition for another system… system?

“... Okay,” you said, slowly dangling like a wet, moldy rag he’s disgusted to hold. You eyed the space, which is a lovely grove of mosses, a lake that looks crystal clear, and the sun rising in the background. And the prettiest man you have ever seen… What a waste. “So…”

“I expect more of you now. Do not fail, I won’t be as lenient as I was today.” Your mouth fell open at his words. He flicked you on the forehead, and you passed out.

You woke in a grimy alleyway. You leaned against the wall, a blanket draped over your body. Your ankle is killing you. You sit up only to feel your entire back feel bruised. Great… you now feel like shit, complete shit, and probably people think you're just some homeless kid. “... Fuck the system… fuck everything.” You sniffle. You didn’t want to cry in this alleyway, but you feel like it.

"Why are you lying there?" You stop sniffing and turn to see an older boy looking down at you. He looks around nine or ten. He was covered in large hands and wearing black, baggy clothes. In his gloved hands was a switch. You stared at him, and he stared at you. He lazily scratched his neck.

"...I have a really bad day—" Your voice cracks as a wave of tears rolls into you. The boy just stared at you with unkind eyes. You could tell he didn't care just bothered you're in his way. "Do you need me to move?" You ask, trying not to break down in front of this kid.

"You're in my way."

"... Yeah, no problem." You rolled over onto your stomach, not even bothering to get up. The kid walked by you, going back to his game. He stopped and looked back at you.

"How old are you?" He asks abruptly.

"Five."

"Where are your parents?"

"I don't have any." Dead silence fell between the two of you.

"Why are you all bloody?" 

"... Oh, you know... running for my life as a psychopath tries to kill me." At this point, you were crying, crying from how absurd this was; it was absurd and cruel all at once. You wanted to laugh, cry, and die. The boy crouched down before you, looking at you, his red eyes looking into yours.

"You're such a crybaby." He sighs out poking your swollen ankle like it was a fascinating thing. If you had the energy, you would have swatted his hand away, but you don’t, so you did nothing.

"Eh?" You said as more tears rolled down your face.

"Pathetic really."

He sat down beside you, his attention back on his game. You watch him play. He was stuck on this one round. His brows knit together, and he grumbled annoyance in his gaze. He lifts a hand and begins to scratch his neck angrily. He was getting frustrated. "Stupid game!" He growls out.

"Do you need help?" You offer. He looked at you, a quietness in his gaze.

"Here."

You shakily sit up and take the switch, your left arm pulsating in pain. You were dirty, sweaty, and drenched in muddy water. You quietly begin to play the level or fight that he was stuck on. He leans in, invading your personal space, his red eyes locked onto the screen. He watches with awe as you beat the fight on your first try. "How?" He asks, taking the console from your hands. "I've been stuck on it for a week!"

"Do you play video games?" The boy asks about his personality, doing a 180. He removed the hand on his face, a wide smile on his face. You could see him clearly; he clearly had a skin condition.

‘... He needs a full facial. A whole routine… he needs… hydration serum and snail mucin.’ You think to yourself.

"Yeah." You said opting not to mention that he needed lotion and or snail mucin. Maybe you can slowly convince him to take care of his skin; it must be pretty itchy.

"What games?"

"League of Legends," You spoke absent-mindedly. You played it in your old life, and you paused and mentally cursed yourself. Does he even know what League of Legends is? Is it even a thing here? 

"League? That old game? Why?" You turn to him with a small smile on your face.

“... Because of Arcane.” You laugh sheepishly, “I thought the girls were hot.” His blank stare said it all. Maybe you’re just a gooner… You are mentally older than him.

“Arcane? I liked the art style,” The boy confessed.

“What’s your name?” You ask.

“Tomura, Tomura Shigaraki.” You nod, it’s a pretty name, you think. It has a ring to it.

“I’m… (Y/n).” You introduce yourself with your new name, a name you haven’t fully accepted. You don’t really connect to your original either. You’re something new, and nothing feels right. It’s a walking nightmare.

.

.

It was dark before you knew it. Your stomach growls violently. The two of you sat there all day talking about games or "games" you would like. Tomura likes fighting games, games where the MC could get all-powerful and rule the world. He pulled out his phone and let you search for games. You found most of the games in your worlds were in this world, but most weren't known; they were considered "old."

"You should totally play Bayonetta!" You say happily, showing him the tall glass of water that is Bayonetta. The boy's face went red seeing her.

"That looks like a hentai game," Tomura said in a judgmental tone.

"It's not! It's a fighting game," so you're surprised YouTube existed in this world, too. You type in Bayonetta and let him see a rough gameplay. "She's a witch with guns that fight angels because she's on hell's side." You could see his eyes widen, and he grew incredibly happy.

"So she's a villain?"

"No, she's a witch." He stared at you, and you stared back.

“Is she a hero?” He asks sneeringly.

“No, she’s a protagonist.”

“... Good,” Tomura huffs, turns to you with this crazy expression. “Heroes are lame and stupid. They’re all about fame and wealth. They don’t actually care about saving people, just lining their own pockets.” You tell you.

“Oh… So less Justice League and more The Boys.” You mumble mostly to yourself.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you mumble.

Dark gas formed a little away from the two of you. You look over to see a gasman walking out towards Tomura. You grab onto him in shock, half because you're completely useless right now. He might actually be able to do something.

“I'm going,” he said, standing up. Before he left, he wrote something on your hand. Shado3handz. "That's my socials, I like to continue to talk to you." You look down at it and smile before nodding. With that, he walks into the gas portal, fading away.

.

.

You sat there in silence. 

You were too tired to even move. Your eyes close as you begin to drift off to sleep.

"Oh my god," Your eyes snap open, and you look over to see a masked figure. He has swords on his back, clad in red and black, leather by the look. "A kid," He jogs over and crouches down before you.

"Are you a hero?" You ask. He laughs and shakes his head.

"I am Stendhal. Are you hurt?" The moment he asked you that you started to tear up again. Finally, someone actually cares about you! You just started to bawl your eyes out and crawl into his arms.

"My arm and ankle are hurt."

"Rest," he said calmly, picking up your small figure and carrying it through the night street. You couldn't fight sleep anymore and fall into a deep, dark slumber, your body spent and tired. 

.

.

"And pressing News, Missing five-year-old child (y/n) has been found severely injured in an alleyway by a good Samaritan. She has been missing for a week, and Edan's Children Orphanage has refused to give a statement. The young girl was found with many cuts, bruises, a severely broken ankle, and a left arm. The perpetrator has not been found."

Chapter Text

You’re bed-bound. Your arm was in a cast, and the deep cuts in your flesh were stitched up. You’re covered in bruises, and you’re in low pain and soreness in every muscle of your body. You survive, but at what cost?

You are under 24/7 surveillance; it was a major shame on the Orphanage. How did this well-funded institution lose a child? You, on the other hand, were punished. They told you it was for your own recovery, which you know it’s not; they just wanted to punish you. So they lie with no form of entertainment besides the ticking of the digital clock next to their bed.

You didn’t mind.

You slept like a log. The first day the no form of entertainment didn’t bothered you. You just slept, it’s heavy and dreamless. The second day, the silence did get to you; you mostly lay there in bed, body so sore you felt like lead in a world of snow.

It was a few days in pure bed rest, solitary, before they let you. It wasn’t so bad, you had the oddest dream of a beautiful woman with flowing red hair and glowing eyes. She sings you songs and tells you tales of her creation.

.

“My dear,” Her voice is like butter smooth and gentle, “All creations are connected. For they should be nothing above each other. Even the grandest whales will die and be eaten by the lowest of bottom feeders.”

“Lady Sirelle, why does it matter?”

“My little Priestess of time, one day you’ll learn.”

.

When you come out of your forced isolation, you finally realize your entire disappearance was nationwide news. The moment you left your room, everyone was looking at you, pointing, whispering. You never wanted to be more invisible.

“Look, it’s her…”

“Quirkless people always want attention, so typical.”

“Where were the heroes?”

“She totally tried to run away, ungrateful.”

You walk towards the office, you need to pick up your school assignments, and your friends from school have left for you. At first, you didn’t notice the pain, the discomfort, but the moment you felt it, the pain rapidly grew. You found yourself leaning against the wall, tears threatening to trickle out of your eyes.

You weren’t sent to therapy even when you asked. They just looked at you like you're stupid, laughed, and said, “What did you go through?” The doctor asked condescendingly. You never felt more stupid than you did when you asked that question. You could have pushed it, but who would believe you went through five days of hell? You said nothing.

By the time you arrive at the office room your ankle is screaming in pain. You limp in the woman behind the desk didn’t notice you. You walk up, your small body barely passing the desk. “Excuse me?” You call out softly.

“Hmh?”

“I’m here to pick up my homework… For Y/n L/n,” you said softly. She looks up from her computer and sighs and gets up and walks to a cabinet and pulls out a thick stack of paper, and hands it off to you. You smile slightly, bow, and limp out of the office.

‘Since I’m down here… might as well go to the infirmary.’ You think before hobbling off to the nurse's office. When you arrive, you see a boy with a broken arm, matching your own cast. The old gentlemen turn to face you and smiles.

“Hello,” he greets.

“Um… My ankle is killing me; it hurts when I walk a lot.” You see the man pause and sigh. He turns away from the other kid and sits in his rolling chair.

“You’re the kid that got lost, correct?”

“Yes.” He nods and reaches into a box and pulls out some socks, and an ankle wrap.

“This came in for you. You’ll probably have chronic pain for the rest of your life, but these compression and ankle wraps will help you.” Your heart sinks at his old words. He gives you a sad, compassionate smile. You reluctantly take it. You leave the nurse’s office and head for your room to drop off the homework.

The homework probably won’t be hard, but it will take time. The walk back took a long time, slightly longer than you would have liked. You kick off your slipper, your ankle slightly swollen. You slip on the compression sock, and it helps before you put the ankle wrap on top of it.

When you left for the cafeteria, your ankle still hurt, but it was more manageable. You get into the elevator (you waited for what felt like fifteen minutes) before getting in with a group of older kids. Y’all head down toward the cafeteria. As you limp, an older quirkless boy notices and, without a word, he picks you up and carries you towards the cafeteria.  “Don’t overwork yourself, brat,” he said before shuffling off. You picked up some snacks and retreated to the elevator.

The homework wasn’t hard, but it did take two hours.

That night, a nightmare haunts you. You’re running, and something is chasing you. Your ankle hurts, and your heart pounds in your chest. As you run, your movement grows slow, sluggish. Until something caught you. Teman. His taunting, deep voice rumbles through your body. Teman catches you— a deformed version of himself, like an eldritch horror. It breathes into your ears and says something that makes your soul shudder. "You can run, you can hide, but you'll always be mine!"

You woke up screaming.

Your body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat. You tumble out of bed onto the cold floor, a nice remedy for your racing heart. It’s cold and it bites into your skin. You plopped down the coldness seeping through your cotton shirt into your sweaty back. Your breath shudders, and your heart finally eases up. You stand up and leave your room, and trudge down the hall to the girls’ bathroom. You splash water into your face.

You wonder what psychotic idea Teman has next for you, what impossible task he asks of you. You stared at the mirror at your own ruined reflections. Your eyes dropped to your hand, the Sharpie has long faded, but you remember the username handle. You even wrote it down on a sticky note.

You wanted to talk to that kid again; all the other kids at the orphanage were too hero-focused or stuck up. There’s no… normal kids, well, no normal kids like there were back in your own world. That kid was a breath of fresh air, a normal gamer boy.

Your mind then drifts back to the man, who was kind, gentle. He had a nice red scarf, and he smelled of blood. He made sure none of his swords or knives were touching you before carrying you off to the hospital. You were so tired that you passed out. You wish you had stayed awake; maybe you could have said thank you.

You trudge back to your room and crawl back to bed. You didn’t sleep, but you lay there. The next day you’ll be back at school, and probably will be stared at some more. Your classmates are nicer than the kids at the orphanage, but the competition wasn’t about being adopted, but being the smartest. 

And you’re the smartest in the entire school by far. You’re popular, but have no real friends beyond school. All the friends you have are heroes and celebrity heroes obsessed. All you do is nod and stay silent.

When it was time to get up for the day, your mind began to shut down, falling back into the same muddled sensation of mundane apathy. You walked to school, biting your tongue from the pain. Good thing most of school is sitting down, and the club you joined wasn’t physical.

.

.

You didn’t go to clubs and went straight back to the orphanage; you’re in too much pain to focus on your club. As you walk into the building, you see a tall man, one you recognize. All Might. He was dropping something off for the orphanage. No cameras, but all the staff members are geeked. You see piles of phones and tablets.

You can grab one. Are they for the kids?

“A-are you sure, Mr. All Might?” The orphanage director asks, rubbing his hands together.

“Of course, teenagers need phones to communicate.” The man smiles. They’re must be hundreds; one missing phone won’t matter, right? When no one was watching, you grab an older model and slip it into your back. 

Before you can leave, the hero turns to you and smiles, “Hello, young one,” he says. You smile back. Did he catch you? Your heart races painfully in your chest. “Is school already out?”

“No… my ankle hurt, so I returned home early.” The hero nods, and you see recognition in his eyes.

‘Oh shit… I’m fucked.’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a hard candy. You freeze and stare at the strawberry-flavored candy. You take it and smile at him. “Thank you,” you mumble.

“Run along.” You nod and scamper off.

Phone acquired!

You slip into your room, you’ll hide the phone package in your bag, and throw it out tomorrow at school before anyone can notice. You quickly set up your phone, new phone. You have no plan, that’s fine, as long as you're on WIFI, you can make a social media account and text your friend. Your heart races, but this time it's with glee; you can finally chat with Tomura!

You searched for the most popular social media account, and it reminds you of Twitter. It’s called Com. You looked up Discord, and to your shock, it still exists. You looked up the handle on the first app, and you found a public account that posts anti-All Might stuff with video games. You sigh and smile a bit. This boy gets ratio so often it’s kinda sad, but at least he’s consistent… right?

You made an account. You sat there silently, trying to think of a username that’s not embarrassing and not something you’ll regret in a few years. Something timeless. You landed on one; Cherriiblss and to you're surprise, it wasn't taken.

You follow Tomura; his last post was 36 hours ago, ranting on a level he can’t pass. And one of Tomura’s trollers ratioed him again.

Almightyfan: Skill Issues
Shado3handz: Dick-riding hero lover

It was a funny interaction that devolved into the normal online slurs and cusses… well, ones you recognized. Your hand hovers over the message button. A wave of nausea and anxiety hits you. Your finger trembles, and you suddenly feel like you're in danger again. You fall back into your bed. What do you say? ‘Hi! It’s the girl you found in the alleyway!’ No, that sounds… bold, you're not that bold. ‘I’m the girl from the alleyway—’ that makes you sound like a hooker.

You sit there agonizing over the idea for what feels like an hour. You sigh and stare at your ceiling. ‘Why do you care? You never cared before.’ An abrupt thought crashes through. You know why, it’s because you care. You care for this boy’s opinion. You let out a bitter laugh is old world, you saw the new world, you’d be disappointed. When did you care for a boy’s opinion? ‘Since I haven’t had any friends… real friends, normal friends, something… familiar,’ you answer your own thought.

You send a Dm.

.

Cherriiblss:
Hey, is this Tomura? I think we meet in an alleyway.
(3:45) read

Shado3handz:
Oh hey... Why were you in an alleyway?
(3:45) read

Cherriiblss:
I was kidnapped and dumped there...
(3:47) read

Shado3handz:
Why?
(3:47) read

Cherriiblss:
Look, the man who kidnapped me only did it to torture me... ༼ ༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ༽
(3:49) read

Shado3handz:
Did a hero find you?
(3:49) read

Cherriiblss:
No. A vigilante
Called Stendhal
(3:51) read

Shado3handz:
You're a slow typer...
I prefer vigilantes over heroes, but heroes and all this shit are unnecessary.
(3:51) read

Cherriiblss:
This is my first phone! Not used to the Kanji! T~T
(3:53) read

Shado3handz:
Oh... Do you have any games you like?
I'm looking into the games you suggested,
Trying to get that Bayonetta game, it's hard because it's not being sold anymore.
I've seen some games play really want to play them now.
(3:53) read

Cherriiblss:
Um… Minecraft is cool, we can play together.
(3:54) read

Shado3handz:
What's Minecraft?
(3:54) read

Cherriiblss:
( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖).... Oh, you'll love it! It's a game where you can build stuff, mine, do fun stuff...
It's hard to explain, you just gotta play it.
We can build an entire world there!
(3:55) read

Shado3handz:
That’s cool, like what?
(3:55) read

Cherriiblss
People usually build cool stuff.
You can even animate inside Minecraft!
(3:56) read

Shado3handz:
How long does that take?
(3:56) read

Cherriiblss:
… Hours.
I like building stuff.f
There’s also survival mode. You can also add mods to make it cool.r
(3:57) read

Shado3handz:
What system does it run on?
(3:57) read

Cherriiblss:
You can play it on the Switch, but it's best played on PC.
(3:57) read

.

You felt a large smile grow on you're face as you talked to Tomura. He was a bit dry, but then again, he was what? Only a few years older than you? He’s probably busy with school or something. You wanted to ask him a few questions: What’s your quirk? What school do you go to? Who was that gas man? 

You sit down at your desk, phone on the table, as you begin your easy homework.

.

Cherriiblss:
What’s your quirk?
(4:00) read

Shado3handz:
I can decay things with a touch.
You?
(4:00) read

Cherriiblss:
Quirkless
It’s alright, but I’m kinda sad people don’t care about me.
(4:01) read

Shado3handz:
I see
(4:01) read

Cherriibliss:
What school do you go to?
Also, how old are you?
(4:01) read

Shado3handz:
I’m home-schooled, and I’m ten.
(4:03) read

Cherriibliss:
Cool, never met a homeschooled kid before
What’s it like?
(4:03) read

Shado3handz:
Eh, I do what I want
(4:06) read

Cherriibliss:
Who was that guy who picked you up?
Your parent?
(4:06) read

Shado3handz:
Nah, he’s more like a babysitter.
(4:09) read.

.

You smile, lean back in your chair. You were answering questions in your homework every time he took his long break, so you assumed he was doing homework too. It feels like you're doing homework with your high school friends again, albeit you prefer to be in person.

He’s ten, he doesn’t really look ten. You thought a boy at ten would be taller; you thought he was seven or eight the first time you saw him. He’s really scrawny; maybe he’s simply a picky eater, and to be fair, you’re also small and scrawny. You’re long done with the English homework; it was so easy. Math wasn’t hard, but doing they’re way was rather unique. The one that took you the longest was Japanese.

.

Cherriibliss:
What do you think of quirks in general?
I feel left out. (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)
(4:11) read

Shado3handz:
Not all men are created equally.
Society itself is corrupt, too. The government, the heroes, the police
People are in a learn helplessness, if you understand.
(4:11) read

.

You completely understand where he’s coming from. He is also a lot more… thoughtful than you realize. Then again, from his online footprint, he seems to be deep into anti-hero stuff. He’s very… alternative, it’s very punk-rock!

You finish the last bit of your homework and lean back in your chair. You long forgot you got snacks, so you open it and begin to eat calmly.

This society does have a downside. People don’t help each other. You’ve noticed it, they always whisper, “a hero will help them,” and walk away. It’s so… cruel, so cowardly to walk away. They walk away thinking they’re good people. They’re not. They’re the same type of people to say “violence isn’t the answer” and perform covert violence on others by ignoring them when they are in need.

.

Cherriibliss:
Yeah, I notice that too.
People just watch or walk away.
(4:13) read

Shado3handz:
See? Heroes make people lazy.
(4:13) read

Cherriibliss:
I’ll never be a hero since I’m quirkless and poor (¬⤙¬ )
But heroism doesn’t seem fun, ya know?
Also, calling them heroes feels wrong.
Comic book heroes didn’t hero for money.
Heroes should be special, ya know?”
(4:15) read

.

He didn't respond after that. 

You stared at your phone at first, but when he didn’t answer for minutes, you wondered what he was doing. You hope it’s just that he’s busy with school, but the anxiety inside you screams another story. ‘He doesn’t like you; you came off too strongly. You’re a weirdo.’ You suck in your lips, feeling the thoughts consume your mind. You almost texted again, but paused. You don’t want to look desperate, you don’t want to spam him either.

[Main Quest: Get Good Grades]

"Eh?" You say allowed once you see the pink box. You stared at it, biting your tongue back, you were shitting yourself. “What?” It was such an easy, easy quest. Was this grace from the System? From Teman? You hope so, but you tried to keep your excitement down. If it’s not, this is good fortune. 

[Must System repeat itself?]

“Nope!” You squeaked out. You fiddle with the phone, as if it could save you from this nightmare situation you're in. "... For how long?" You ask shakily, your voice cracking and your face paling. You didn't want to be this pathetic, but he scared you; he scared you far more than he should. 

[Player 003, do you think getting good grades once means you are free?]

"... No."

[Player 003 will continue to get good grades until grades aren't important anymore.]

You sigh. You know your leverage of being a teenager in your past life would only take you oh so far. You’ve heard the reputation of the Asian grading system, how hell it will become. Yeah, you’re the smartest now that doesn’t mean you’ll always be the smartest. Being mentally fifteen and competing with five-year-olds is not an achievement.

The pink box vanishes, and suddenly a creeping horror sets into you, and you grab your Japanese homework and scan through all the kanji for a second time, making sure it’s perfect or as good as you can get it. Your entire next twelve years are going to be painful study sessions and crying into the pillow at 2 am due to lack of sleep.

The system is really trying to kill you, huh?

.

.

The next day at school, you felt nauseous. You hope your homework was good enough. Your teacher looks it over, eyes widening and studying you, only you. Your stomach drops, ‘I fail, didn’t I?’ you lament sadly to yourself.

“Alright, class, let’s look at (L/n)’s homework example, as it is well done.” You feel your dread collapse into pure embarrassment. You sink further into your seat as you see your classmate turn to you in awe. You just wanted them to stop staring at you!

“Wow, (L/n)-chan, you’re so smart,” your seatmate said with a big smile. You smile back and drop your head. You do not want to be the standard. You should not be the standard for preschool-age kids!

[Congratulations Player 003! You have passed the one-month marker.]
[Status: Complete]
[Reward: Allowance]

The world around you vanishes, and all you see is the reward. Allowance. Financial stability, and since you ask for the system shop to be cheaper… You can get rich. The little capitalist inside you was laughing like a villain in those Manhwas. If you keep this up, you might be able to afford college!

You hope that all quest reward is money. In that world where you’re powerless, you hope, hope that you can get wealthy, be comfortable in a world still not built for you. You just hope burnout won't consume you first.

Money is becoming your new religion.

‘Can I open a system window? See my stats?’ You wonder. You look around, and no one else has mentioned the giant glowing pink screen before you. So you assume they can’t see it. You lean back and frown. You’ll have to slip away to figure it out.

When homeroom ends, you slip out before the praising could begin and slip into the bathroom. “How… how do I pull up a system window?” You ask yourself quietly. You wave your hand, nothing happens. ‘System window,’ you think, and finally one pops up. “Wow!” You gasp happily.

[Player 003 is a little slow to discover things...]

Your face flushes, and you only mumble something incoherent. Maybe if he weren’t so scary, you snap back, but you want to live. ‘Um… System store?’ You think the question. Another window opens, and there you see 10,000 yen in your account. Your mouth drops open. That seems like a lot of money… wait, how much is 10,000 yen?

“Um… System, how much is 10,000 yen in USD?” You ask hopefully. You hope he will be useful for once and not a jackass. You waited and wonder if Teman is laughing at you for your stupidity; the idea only makes you feel worse about yourself.

[About $65.]

You blink in shock. What kid gets that much for allowance? Is it monthly? Even if it’s monthly, that seems like a lot. At this rate, you might be able to buy something actually substantial with that money!

You scroll through the shop, and a few things catch your attention. For around 1,500 yen, you can buy a chill pill, a healing potion, a stamina potion, and an ankle relief. The last one feels scummy. At 7,600 yen, you can buy a phone plan, maybe later. You didn’t even bother to look at the other category, where it gets into the six figures or anything higher than your allowance; no need to psyche yourself out.

Another portion was “Real-life Items.” Anything really, from feminine hygiene to entertainment. You’ll check it out later; for now, you need to return to class. You sat down right before the door opened again, and you saw the English teacher walking in. You tuned him out.

["Are you still struggling wth your time control powers?"]

You stiffen up as you hear Teman’s sweet, honey-filled voice. You turn to see him leaning against the wall. Your head whips around, wondering if anyone else can see him. No one addressed him. Maybe your stress is making you hallucinate.

“They can’t see me,” he said, looking at you with wistful eyes. It’s kinda creepy but also… romantic? You don’t know how to put it. “You can talk, you know, it’s not like they’re going to notice.”

“What are you?” You finally ask. You flinch at your own blunt coldness, and you begin to back track, “like what— I didn’t mean it rudely.”

“You truly don’t remember?” he asked.

“Remember what?”

“Of course not,” he sighs out with annoyance as he pushes his hair back. “You existed in a paradox of the prime world; it only took fate itself to knock you out of rotation.” You stare at him like he grew a second head. What the hell is he saying? What… what nonsense is this?

“What are you? You didn’t answer my question—” He abruptly gets up and walks to your desk. He looks down at you.

“I assume you're asking what role I play in all this?” You nod, “I am the guide of fate, the warden of correction.”

Warden… Sirelle called you that, too.

“Am I a warden?” You ask without fully thinking about your question. He paused, his eyes staring dead into yours. “That’s what Sirelle said.”

“Sirelle? You remember her but not me?” He said, jealousy filling his tone. You paled and looked away. Was this a love triangle? You hope not, that drama will be awkward.

“Who’s Sirelle?” You ask. That only made a small, amused smirk cross his face.

“So dense. She’s the only thing that can shatter an immortal soul that’s beyond multiverses and time itself, my dear priestess. She is your god.” You frown. God? Like… God god? Or like… Greek gods? You must have had a funny expression for him to laugh.

It’s rich, money-rich, yacht-rich. He sounds expensive; he looks expensive. Your cheeks flush. He’s so calm right now, you almost forgot he tortured you. Almost. ‘Get a hold of yourself, girl! He is not worth it!’

“You control fate?” You ask, trying not to let your own attraction to this man win. His laughter stops, and you eyed him.

“No. I’m not you or… her. I can’t control fate, but I can guide it,” he spoke calmly.

“... So are these quests under your control, or are you like… dishing them out from a pre-existing list?” You ask, your curiosity peaking. His smile sharpens, and he cocks his head to the side.

“How smart of you. I have more freedom than you think, but I still have a rubric to follow. A knight is lesser than a priestess.”

“And a priestess is less than a god,” you mumble. He nods.

You blinked, and he was gone. Your head whips around again as you scan the room for him. He’s utterly gone. You notice the teacher staring at you curiously, and you lower your head. He still called on you to answer a question. You looked at the board and gave him an answer. You barely paid attention to the rest of your classes, your mind lost in thought. 

He’s a warden, you’re not. He can’t control fate, but you can control time. He calls himself a knight. He said you have a god… was it this god’s intention? Was he simply a servant of a greater being? You spent the rest of your school day thinking, even on your walk home.

.

Cherriiblss:
Hey, I got Bayonetta.
(5:00) read

Shado3handz:
How did you get it? I couldn't find it.
(5:01) read

Cherriiblss:
Do you want to hang out?
(5:02) read

Shado3handz:
Sure
(5:02) read

Cherriiblss:
After school tomorrow, I can hang out, but your parent needs to come in.
And excuse me for a few hours.
(5:03) read

Shado3handz:
Ok.
(5:03) read

Shado3handz:
Yeah, my guardian can come, and we can pick you up.
Tomorrow, when does school end?
(5:07) read

Cherriiblss:
Around 3:15, but I'll get back to the orphanage around 3:30
(5:09) read

Shado3handz:
Ok
(5:10) read

Cherriiblss:
Ok. It's dinner time.
I'll see you tomorrow!
Bye!
(5:11) read

Shado3handz:
See you tomorrow.
(5:12) read

As you arrive at the cafeteria, you see a lot of older quirkless kids sitting at one table, the hetromorphics sitting at another. The outcast table. The other tables were for quirk-users. Of course, they had their own structure, but in all, it was less… isolating. You grab your tray and head for the quirkless table and sit down.

You sat there and ate quietly. You already did your homework. You ate and headed straight for bed. That night, you had another strange dream.

.

The marbled halls were made of wispy white, almost see-through columns in this great temple. Your footsteps are taking you through the hall, your golden yellow robes flow behind you, and your hair is pulled into complicated braids. Servant girls and vestal virgins all bow to you.

But you weren’t looking at them, you were scanning the hall until you stopped at a grand door, where, guarding the door, you saw him, your love. He didn’t smile at you, but his eyes did shift to look at you. The golden armor stands beautifully against his tan skin, his blue eyes softening as he gazes at you. “My priestess,” he greets before stepping to the side and opening the grand door for you. His eyes linger on you as you walk in.

As you walk into the room, you see her again. She sits on a throne of gold and diamonds, looking at portals to worlds around her. She didn’t greet you as you bowed in reverence. “My holiness,” you greet, your voice mature and warm.

“Rise, my priestess.”

“You called?”

“I need you to overlook this timeline, a little… rat is disrupting the timeline continuity.” She flicks her wrist, sending a portal right in front of you. You see a strange world, a world of fire and destruction. And a girl with a purple diamond on her forehead.

.

You don’t remember waking up, but when you came to, you were staring at your ceiling. You sit up in bed, you were recently moved into a bigger room (you think they did that because they already deemed you unadoptable), with three other girls. You have a top bunk. You look down at the other sleeping girl. Lucky them, they don’t get strange dreams.

You flop back onto your bed. Just seven hours… just seven hours of school and you’ll be free to hang out with Tomura! You turn to see the digital clock: 3 am. You sigh and roll onto your side and fall back asleep. You did not dream again.

.

.

You skipped your club and race back to the orphanage, hobbling a bit as you completely forgot your ankle wrap. Curse your pre-play date excitement and your airheaded nature. You arrive back and toss your bag onto your bed. You kick off your shoes and put on your ankle wrap before pushing out your phone. And told Tomura you’re ready.

You assumed you would be waiting for fifteen minutes. Maybe thirty minutes, for him and his guardian to arrive, but he replied saying they’re outside. You slip your phone, the game, and your homework into your school bag after tossing out everything else onto your bed. You race down to the office, skipping the elevator for the stairs. As you arrive, you see the gas man talking to the office woman and signing you out.

“Tomura!” You shout as he turns, and you wave happily. He’s not wearing that weird hand on his face, but he is wearing a hoodie with the hood up.

“Hey,” he said, waving. You can see he’s wearing artist gloves. ‘Was the glove for his quirk?’ you wonder. When his guardian signed you out, the three of you began to walk.

“Did you drive?” You ask curiously.

“No,” Tomura replied calmly. You follow after him curiously as they round the corner. The gas man opens a portal. And you freeze, quirk usage isn’t legal, but still, people use them. “It’s safe,” Tomura said, noticing your apprehension.

“Ok…” You gulp and walk through.

You see the 17+ age restriction and shrug it off, so did Tomura. “Ooh, turn up the volume, it’s voice-acted.” You said. The two of you walk to his small room. It is dark, but you don’t mind. You flick on his lamp, and he sits on his bed, and you join him.

“What level of difficulty do we want to do?” He asks. You stared at it. You’re rather a button masher, no rhythm or talent, and somehow you fail upward. However, you never actually played Bayonetta. Surely it can’t be that hard!

“... I hate this,” Tomura growls, scratching his neck as the ‘game-over’ screen hits the two of you. He hands the switch off to you. Every time one of you died, the other would take over. The two of you were stuck on a single fight, the fight with a white hair witch. Tomura had more… skills, but you button-mashed to more success.

“OH MY GOD!” You squeal as you pass the fight. Tomura leans against you. You smile as the story continues. Both of you agree to try to find all the lore. You weren’t as intuitive as Tomura. You wander a bit, finding more lore about the Umbra Witches and Lumen Sages. “Hey… I got homework you want to take over, I’ll still watch.”

“Sure,” he said, taking control. You grab your English homework, an essay that you wrote out with ease. It was something superficial, something a kid can do, and you wrote it in simple words. It didn’t take long; you wrote a stupid little story about a cat.

You turn back to find Tomura fighting a weird dragon with an upside-down baby head for a dragon's body. You mouthed ‘wow’ silently and leaned closer. Tomura is trapped in a small room, running back and forth, trying not to get hit. He lost the first round, but after the third, you realized he’s getting the hang of the battle, and in the fourth round, he won.

“How tall is she? She looks like a giant.”

“Um… the fandom likes to think she’s 8 feet tall, but Luka is taller than her, so… everyone here just has long legs, but I do think she’s like maybe slightly under 2 meters.” You shrug. You were about to give him the answer in feet, but you remembered this is a metric country.

You turn back to your homework. Math was also easy, just basic addition, subtraction, and a bit of multiplication. Finally, you open your Japanese workbook and begin to painstakingly write. You keep forgetting the correct way of writing Kanji and have to flip back to the beginning of the workbook. You were getting the hang of it, but you’re in the stage of second-guessing yourself.

It took you an embarrassingly long time to write down the kanji, but you’re getting into a rhythm.

By the time you finish, you look back to see Tomura upgrading stuff. You pull out your phone, and your eyes widen. It’s close to dinner time, and you need to return. “Hey, I should head back soon.”

“Why?” Tomura asks, his head shooting up from his hunch-shirmp position.

“It’s close to dinner and I’d like to get in line before it gets messy.” You see him frown. You can see his mind wandering around like he’s trying to find an excuse. He pouts and sighs.

“Ok,” he sets his switch down and turns to you. “You want to hang out again?”

“Of course!” You smile, shoving your homework into your bag. “What about this weekend? I got more free time!” 

“Ok, this weekend.”

The gas guy warped you back to the orphanage, and you walk in, waving at the lady at the front desk. You sign yourself back in. You rushed to drop your bag onto your bed and bolted straight to the cafeteria. They’re was already a line forming.

You grab your lunch, your favorite seat, and begin to eat. You watch as others walk in, the good quirk users skipping past the quirkless kids. They were the king/queens of this orphanage, and the staff members did nothing to stop this dynamic. You left before it got too crowded.

.

.

Tomura was one of the sweetest boys you know. He was caring in the ‘I’m emotionally stunted and can’t express myself, but I understand’ way. You turn to him and fish out the Bayonetta game. He pulls out his switch. 

You found yourself looking forward to your play dates. Before you knew it, you were being signed out of the orphanage every other day to hang out with Tomura. Homework is getting easier to finish, and you find yourself doing so at school during other classes, so you are free all afternoon. You two spent months on Bayonetta, the first two games; you didn't care for the third.

"Why are these baby angels so hard to kill?" Tomura growls as he takes his time trying to defeat Fortitudo.

"You have to do combo skills, but I just button mash." You explain. He’s a good strategist, and he gets the hang of battle quickly. You really need to get him into LoL.

"Damn!" Tomura grumbles, handing the switch to you. He looked mad, and to your slight surprise, he wasn't one of those destructive gamers, ones that destroy things constantly, but he did whine. He had this calmness when he played games, an odd calmness that you didn't see anywhere else.

"... Should we have picked easy difficulty?" You brought up the two of you thought could beat it in normal mode, confidence surging through your entire being. Tomura shot you a glower; it was your idea. He flops onto his book and groans, rolling around, a tantrum building up before he sits back up.

"You want to destroy something?" It was a simple request, more like a plea.

"Sure."

He wanted to play Minecraft. He just liked destroying things; he spent hours building things only to destroy them, and he completely enjoyed it. He likes to make statues of heroes, specifically All Might, and simply explode them. It was very Sims... You decided not to tell him about the Sims, which would explode his mind, and you could see him become addicted to mods and everything.

"You know that's your Nineth All Might statue." You spoke as you two walked through your server together. He never destroyed what you built, usually going off trying to figure out the lore of everything as you stand stationary, building another massive building.

"I just hate him." He was very misanthropic and hateful of society; he made it very clear. He thought All Might as a concept was creating problems, and he hated the man behind it. He didn't understand the idolization of heroes. He hated heroes and the weak who supported them, yet he has room for you, a weakling. You exist in an area he liked; it is impossible for you to be a hero in his eyes. You weren't the scum that was blinded by heroes; you were one of the liberated, like him. He didn't care if you took the middle part of the argument, but the slightest positive to the hero side, he "corrects" you. Every time you tried to steer his view away, he got more passionate; it became a forbidden conversation. It usually ended in silence and awkwardness.

"Where are you going today?" You ask, trying to change the subject.

"I am still looking for diamonds and hoping to go to the Nether." 

"Good luck," You say offhandedly. You added a lot of mods to the server, making it fun and unique for Shigaraki. The bare normal Minecraft is only fun with a lot of people, and even then, it's good, chaotic people.

"Still carving out that mountain?" He asks, looking at the giant pit you were making in the ground.

"Look, I have a vision, and madness can't be tamed." You protest, only making him smirk.

"Sure, sure." Tomura raided your chest for all the food, bread, and golden apples, and waltzed off into the sunset, looking for a cave to doom mine for Diamonds. You wanted him to know what it's like to play a simplified modded Minecraft game before offering to do challenges, surviving on a single block, maybe other survival games like Raft, and see what he can do.

The allowance was bimonthly. Every two weeks, you get $65 into your bank. It’s pretty nice, actually. You finally buy a plan that runs on a monthly payment and tell Tomura your phone number. He added you to his phone under (Y/n), so you labeled him under Tomura. Simple and sweet.

As the month ticked on and your grades were still the highest in the class, your allowance began to build up. You two explored other games, Raft (he liked that), FNAF (he hated the jumpscare, but the lore got to him), Poppy Playtime (he also liked, but you learned he has a hatred of dolls), and finally, when you two were dead bored, you invited him to play Sims. 

That was his new favorite game.

Soon, you found him hunched over his computer, giggling manically as he tortured All Might. Tomura studied All Might's face, making sure the Sims was a complete recreation. Soon it was an addiction, a painful one. He, of course, stopped when you were around, but it was clear he spent hours torturing the poor Sims.

When summer break arrived, you quickly did the homework packaged the school had handed out. Nearly every single day you were out of the orphanage, usually at Tomura’s. Today, you found yourself walking down the street of Tokyo with Tomura. After getting lost (you saw Sanrio characters, you wander off) one time, now Tomura insists on holding your hand so you don’t wander.

The two of you were walking the busy street of Shibuya. You two had never been to Shibuya, and you wanted to explore many things. The first place you two stopped was a claw machine place. Your little consumer heart was in heaven. Before you knew it, you had lost Tomura in the long line of claw machines. 

"Tomura?" You call out.

No response.

"Tomura?" You begin to walk little hands holding onto bags full of items. You didn't need them, but cute things are cute and can decorate your room. "Tomura?... Tomura... Tomura..." You called out, looking for the boy. You saw him in the video game aisle. He was interested in getting a specific game. You walk up and watch one, you stand to the side and begin to tell him right, left, forward, back.

"So close," Tomura said, as he was the closest he's ever been.

"One more time?" You ask. He nods.

"Yup."

Before you know it, the two of you spend the entire day at the claw machines. You got all that you wanted, and Tomura got some new games. The two of you walk the streets of Shibuya alone, looking for a place to eat. The two of you didn't know what you wanted to eat until a food stall caught your attention. "You want teriyaki?"

"Sure." The two of you sat at a bus station eating. You two will be taking the bus back to Tomura's place, and they will warp you home.

"What do you do in school?" He asks.

"... Sit for hours, getting lectured, and learning things." You state with a sigh. Tomura looks like that would be his kryptonite.

You lean against him, and he tenses up before bolting up. His face twists with shock, rage, fear, and then a slight blush. He begins to sputter out, "Don't touch me!" he blurts out. You frown and begin to panic; he's the only friend you have! You can't lose him like this, over something so mundane.

“I’m Sorry—”

"It's dangerous, I don’t have my gloves on.” He said, fumbling with the gloves he put in his pocket.

“Do gloves stop you from decaying things?” You ask curiously.

“... Well, I need all five fingers to touch something to decay them.” You nod, that’s such an interesting concept.

“Can you control it?”

“No.”

“Oh…” You mumble. Now his panic makes sense. You felt a bit of shame wash over you. You gave your friend a scare for a lifetime. "Can I see?" You ask quietly and as childishly as possible, putting in as much charm and sweetness as your youth can offer. Tomura stared off into the distance before he slowly took off his gloves and touched the empty can.

It crumbled away.

Your smile stiffens. Your gut told you to run, your mind tried to rationalize the fear, and your heart began to race— You felt cornered. He turns to your eyes, slightly narrowed, judging your reaction. You kept a straight face, hoping he didn't touch you... Can he disintegrate you? Or is it only objects? You mentally shake your head; that's something you don't want to find out.

"What do you think?" He finally asks.

"You can be the greatest environmental activist in the world," You said, saying the first thing that popped into your head that wasn’t fear-based. 'Shit... why did I say that?' You think sweat is beginning to collect on your forehead. You try to keep the smile on your face, trying to keep the air calm and not let your stress interfere.

"You think so?" He asks quietly, his pale cheeks turning into a deeper shade of pink. You were nodding before you realized, your anxiety faded a little, maybe this is your chance to change his misanthropic views of society.

"YEAH! With your quirk, you can save people." His face sours, and you feel a bang of panic.

"I don't want to be a hero."

"You don't have to be a hero, silly," You said, sitting up. "You can be like a demolition person!"

"A what?"

"Someone who destroys buildings and gets paid for it!"

"You think my quirk can be used for good?"

"Yes."

.

.

When you return to the orphanage, you see a couple, older, thirties... Maybe you’re not a good judge of people’s age. You can slightly hear them, “We're looking for a child, quirkless like us. Smart and obedient.” You feel your heart race, and a good anxiety seizes you.

You fit those criteria!

“We have a few candidates.” The woman smiles. You see your name in the folders, and you try not to smile like an idiot. The social worker notices you, “one of the kids is right there.”

Oh shit, you've noticed!

“Please come in, dear,” the social worker beckons you in. You take a step forward.